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astralaffairs · 4 years ago

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voltaire to versace 02 | thomas jefferson

title: voltaire to versace 02

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: 8.7k

warnings: honestly not much. sex jokes n references, dolley simping for james, broke college student meals

desc: from francis bacon to foucault, descartes to dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.

tags: @lunariasilver @tinywhim @nyxie75 @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @checkurwindow @katierpblogg — let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

"Dolley, holy shit; please tell me you're already home." Y/N's words were breathless as she hurried across the quad, muttering under her breath into her phone. She'd darted out of her lecture hall the moment they'd been dismissed, having no desire to stick around for the confrontation she knew was inevitable.

"I'm just getting out of class, dear," Dolley responded, but when she continued, her words were teasing. "What sort of trouble did you manage to get yourself into while I was gone?"

"I cannot begin to explain." Y/N let out a huff, glancing over her shoulder and ducking her head as she whispered, "but it's not good."

"Oh, good lord, Y/N; I was joking." She could hear the genuine worry begin to creep into Dolley's voice and couldn't help but wince.

"Yeah, I wish I was, too." She chalked the subsequent rush of static through the line up to Dolley's sigh. "Where are you right now? Can I meet you somewhere?"

"Want to go to dinner?"

"Too broke for that."

"Packaged ramen from the drugstore on the east side of campus?"

"Now you're speaking my language." Y/N grinned, and she could only picture Dolley rolling her eyes from wherever she was. "I'll be there in a few."

"You'd better. I can't wait much longer to hear what sort of nonsense you've been up to."

"You slept with a professor?!"

"Shh, Doll; not so loud," Y/N hissed, pulling her back into the soda aisle and frantically checking for any prurient eavesdroppers. Her voice was low when she added, "It was the guy at the bar last night. I had no idea he was a professor here."

Dolley let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is... a mess."

"You're telling me."

"So, what's the plan going to be?"

When Dolley folded her arms, raising an amused eyebrow (a little too amused, in Y/N's humble opinion), but Y/N furrowed her brow. "What d'you mean, 'what's the plan?'"

"What are you going to do the next time you run into him?" Dolley asked. There was a pause; Y/N hadn't thought that far. "You don't really think you can make it through the semester ignoring this, do you?"

"I... Maybe? I don't know!" Y/N let out a frustrated huff. "That's what I need you to help me figure out. What else are you here for?"

"Oh, you make an excellent point," Dolley sighed. "All I do is pay half the rent and help you get laid at bars downtown."

Y/N scowled. "You helped me get laid by a professor. Just help me."

"Mmh, I don't think I heard a 'please' in there."

"Please, Dolley, my white knight to whom I owe my life," she pleaded, clutching her roommates arm and sighing wistfully. Dolley's lips were pressed into a line, but that didn't stop her smile from showing through. "I would be nothing without you; just please, do me this one final favor."

"Alright, alright," she conceded with a huff, shaking free from Y/N's grip. "Drama queen."

Y/N shrugged shamelessly. "I bring excitement into your life. Don't be ungrateful."

"Whatever you say, dear." The defeat in her words made Y/N grin. "So back to your excitement, then."

"I'm so lost," Y/N groaned, finally emerging from the soda aisle with shoulders slumped in defeat. "If the sex hadn't been so good, I'd probably just pretend it never happened."

Dolley creased her brow. "Was it really that good?"

Y/N turned to her with a serious demeanor, a hand on her shoulder as she looked her in the eye. "Dolley. I am covered in hickeys from my neck to my hips. That man damn near threw my back out. I won't bullshit you; there's no way I'm gonna be able to sit comfortably for—"

"Okay, alright! A 'yes' would've sufficed," Dolley cut her off, pushing past her to the shelf of instant noodles. Y/N looked disproportionately self-satisfied when she followed. "That's about enough details for one evening."

"You asked!"

"But you can't spend the entire semester ignoring him, Y/N," Dolley continued, ignoring her words. "That class is notoriously difficult — the only people I know who didn't frequent his office hours were the ones who got 'C's."

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples as her roommate pushed cup after cup of beef ramen into her basket. "So then shouldn't I just put this whole thing behind me? I can't really start asking him to help me analyze Kant if I open the conversation with, 'hey, good to see you again, you're almost as good at teaching as you are in bed.'"

Dolley laughed at her dry tone. "I don't mean that, of course."

"Then what do you mean?"

"If you never agree to put this all behind you, I think it's going to be on both of your minds for the rest of the semester," she said matter-of-factly, hesitating when the freezer at the side of the room caught her gaze. "Should we pick up pizza rolls, too?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course we should," Y/N scoffed, brushing past her toward the Totino's section. "But if he and I both just ignore it, wouldn't that be an easier way to put it behind us?"

"Oh, grab a bag of the cheeseburger flavor, would you?" Dolley leaned in to look over Y/N's shoulder, ignoring her words altogether, and she glanced back with a raised eyebrow.

"Can you focus for five seconds?" She dropped three bags of pizza rolls — pepperoni flavor — into her basket with a huff. "Anyway, the cheeseburger flavor is disgusting. Get some taste."

"Don't discount the nostalgia of it!"

"Dolley." Y/N fixed her with a pointed look, and she sighed.

"We both know ignoring it is a poor idea, even if it is the easier option." Dolley didn't waste a second in pushing right past Y/N when she stood, grabbing a bag of the cheeseburger pizza rolls (an oxymoron in itself, as Y/N would've told her) before the freezer door could fall shut. "Just talk to him after class one day. Don't make it take more than five minutes."

"I don't even know where I'd start with that. I've dealt with awkward fallout from one-night stands before, but never with a professor." Her footsteps stalled within the last yard of the frozen section. "I've just gotta ignore it and focus on the coursework, Dolley. Wanna get some Ben and Jerry's?"

"Are you trying to distract me with a pint of chocolate fudge brownie?" Dolley asked incredulously, before adding, "Because it's working. Let's get two."

She grinned. "Excellent."

Y/N figured that was the end of it, that two pints of ice cream and an incredibly vague game plan would be enough to satiate her friend for the time being, but after they checked out, trying to figure out how many meals they could extend one pack of ramen to (because, really, if you just add more water, doesn't it make the servings bigger?), Dolley felt the need to return to it as they walked through the sliding glass exit doors, her words holding an air of finality.

"If you really want to insist on not just communicating with the poor man, Y/N, then fine." Y/N raised a quizzical eyebrow, not yet following where Dolley had abruptly turned the trajectory of their conversation. "But after his lecture on Wednesday, when you realize that leaving the subject untouched just makes it more unbearable—" ("'When'?" Y/N muttered dubiously.) "—then I need you to agree to go talk to your professor."

Dolley didn't wait for her response, squinting at the nutrition facts on the ramen labels as her focus drifted elsewhere (sure, it said two servings, but she was fairly sure that only the bourgeoise couldn't have stretched it to three), but Y/N let out a surrendering sigh.

"Wednesday's going to be just fine," she said, realizing but not caring that Dolley was no longer listening. "But if it isn't, I'll talk to him."

- -

Wednesday was not 'just fine.'

Y/N spent the entire class on edge, trying futilely not to let her thoughts drift back to the other night in the bar, then on the street in front of her building, then in the elevator, in her living room, even in the kitchen— but no, she was getting off track. Little did she know, Thomas was having precisely the same issue.

She jotted down his words almost robotically, the meaning of them going into one ear and out the other, more focused on the sound of his voice than on what he was actually saying.

Only once did she manage to focus for long enough to actually process a thought, but when he was fielding questions about the material, Thomas conveniently managed to miss her having raised her hand from where she was seated. She supposed she'd just positioned herself too far back and thought no more of it.

Despite how 'not fine' that day had been, she dismissed it as a fluke, showing up the next Monday with her head on straight, her readings prepared and annotated, and took a seat several rows further forward. Her motivation may have been misplaced, leaning a bit too far toward wanting to impress her professor and not far enough toward a desire to understand the material, but she was familiar enough with the content to feel comfortable giving her input on the questions he posed to the class throughout the lecture.

Again, her efforts bore no fruit. Her notes were better that day, so that was certainly something to count as a plus, but she left feeling put-out by the fact that she hadn't even had a chance to participate. Usually, she wouldn't have been so perturbed by this — sitting through a Socratic seminar playing tetris on her laptop was no unfamiliar experience — but this class accounted for six of the twelve credit hours she still needed for her chosen major. She didn't suppose that it'd be a good look to have the class dragging down her GPA to be the same one she was supposedly most passionate about; generally speaking, that wasn't what graduate schools were looking for.

Besides, she liked the subject, too. Surely that had to count for something?

And that was how she kept pushing off the inevitable conversation with Thomas — sorry, Professor Jefferson — and coming up with increasingly creative excuses as to why her efforts were being so plainly ignored, not only that following Wednesday, too, but also the Monday and Wednesday after. She'd made it through three weeks of classes before she could finally work up the nerve to confront him.

Unfortunately, that task proved to be no easier than her previous one.

Thom— her professor was always the last one into the lecture hall and the first one out, leaving no opportunities for chatter, or in her case, a supposedly inevitable clash she'd already begun arming herself for. She'd nearly caught him in the halls at various times, but he always seemed to have somewhere he urgently needed to be. The same doctrine followed in his office hours; apparently, another student had scheduled a meeting with him three minutes after every single time she arrived, without fail, so could she please just come back another time? Surely, another time would be better for both of them.

That time never came.

It was near the end of the fourth week that she was entirely fed up. They'd moved from Kant to Machiavelli, and so far, The Prince had her ready to tear her hair out. It didn't help that they'd all just finished the book, their first paper of the year on it due the next Monday.

She was far past lying to herself about her motives being purely academic while she continued to privately just want his attention — no, by then, she was hopped up on forty ounces of sugary coffee and just a touch of RedBull, and she hardly had a thesis for her paper. She'd read the same passages time and time again — she likely could've recited them word-for-word by the time she demanded feedback — and any shallow, vain desires for recognition were the furthest thing from her mind. She needed a professor, and she was pissed that Thomas didn't seem to have any interest in acting like one.

It was late Thursday evening when she marched across the green from the library to the building that housed his office in a fury. Yes, it was the last week of January; yes, the entire city was still coated in snow, but no, she could not bring herself to care about the very real possibility of frostbite as she trudged through the snow in sweatpants, slippers, and a tank top. Practicality wasn't her priority. Finishing her paper was.

Thomas's office hours were from 7 to 10 PM every evening, a schedule he stuck to religiously. It was 9:24 when Y/N began tracking snow through the bottom floor of his building, and 9:31 when she finally managed to locate and reach his actual office.

It was reluctant when she finally knocked, struggling to resist the urge to simply bust in and rip him a new one, but to her relief, it was simply met with a 'come in.' That was when she threw the door open in a fit of annoyance.

"You've been avoiding me," she said, eyes narrowed and tone accusatory before he could so much as react to her presence.

"Y/N, I—" His eyes were wide; he seemed to be at a loss for words as his eyes drifted down to her sweatpants and Hello Kitty slippers. He couldn't have convinced her it wasn't a dignified look even if he'd tried. "What are you doin' here?"

"We need to talk." She dropped her bag into one of the chairs in front of his desk, though she chose not to take a seat, instead glaring down at him, arms folded.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and though his head was down, his shadow of a grimace told her everything she needed to know: he'd been dreading this conversation far more than she had. "Look, right now really isn't a great time. I've got—"

"Don't bullshit me, Thomas."

"Professor Jefferson," he corrected her, the words hissed through gritted teeth, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"My bad. Don't bullshit me, Professor Jefferson." Y/N scowled as she took another step towards him. "Your office hours don't end until ten. There's no way you have time for a meeting between now and then if you haven't already started one."

He let out a heavy sigh. "Alright. Alright, fine. And I know what you're gonna say, but—"

"Do you really?" she challenged him, head cocked to one side. "Because the fact that you haven't given me one chance to speak to you in almost a month tells me pretty clearly that you don't. Generally, you find out what people have to say by listening to them."

"We can't have this conversation here. You've gotta come find me some other time." The urgency in his voice only served to infuriate her further. What right did he have to be dictating this when he'd tried to stop the conversation altogether?

"Oh, believe me, I've tried," Y/N huffed. "I'm done accommodating. If you wanted to talk about this some other time, I would've been happy to, but we're well past that."

He held her burning gaze warily for another moment, but she didn't let up. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. Say your part. I'm listenin'."

"You've been completely freezing me out. You haven't been answering my questions in classes; you haven't been letting me contribute to discussions; you, most recently, haven't let me talk to you for more than five seconds, hence why I'm here." She launched into an irate monologue without any further encouragement, and to his credit, Thomas at least had the decency to look guilty. "You've been turning me away at your office hours; for fuck's sake, Thomas, you haven't even answered any of my emails!"

"I know, I know," he said, and though she could see the exhaustion written across his face, she didn't let him continue. "But you've gotta understand—"

"I'm not done," she cut him off, and it was then that he raised an affronted brow. "Anyway, I get why you're keeping your distance. Really, I do. And honestly? I can't really blame you for it."

"Well, great, so—"

"But with that said," —she gave Thomas an expectant look as she continued to speak over him, challenging him to try and interrupt— "You've been doing more than keeping your distance. You've been outright ignoring me, and that's where I'm drawing a line in the sand. Refusing to engage with me doesn't help either of us."

She let out a heavy breath when she finally reached the end of her rant, and though he was certainly taken aback, Thomas looked unimpressed.

"May I speak now?" he asked mockingly, and she scowled. "Or are you just gonna keep cuttin' me off?"

"Depends how much bullshit comes out of your mouth."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure." He put his pen back into the cup on the edge of the desk before drawing himself up to the fullest height he could reach in a rolling chair. With how he was looking at her, with how cross his tone was, Y/N may have backed down in another context, but quite frankly, she was beyond having anything to lose. "I understand that you're hurt, Y/N, and for that, 'm honestly sorry, but—"

"I'm not hurt, I'm ticked!"

"Y/N." That time, his hard voice, his barely-contained anger, did make her shrink away, just a bit. "You've gotta realize that what happened is in the past. It was a mistake. I didn't know you were a student here — you even told me you went to school in Chicago."

"I did, for two years."

"Doesn't matter. Moral of the story is that you've gotta leave that in the past. I'm your professor now, and that's a boundary that can't be crossed. We both need to stop dwellin' on it." His saying 'we' rather than 'you' certainly didn't go unnoticed, but Y/N deemed it not worth addressing.

"Great. It's behind us. Can you stop ignoring me now?"

"Come on, Y/N—"

"Seriously? You're gonna argue with that?" She threw her hands up in a huff, beyond exasperated and crossing the line to indignance. "You wanna remind me that you're my professor? Then stop acting like I don't exist. It's that simple, Thomas."

"It's Professor Jefferson. And I'm not tryin' to ignore you," he defended. "But don't you see the position this puts me in? My job's at stake here. This can never happen again!"

"And who said I wanted it to?" she bit back immediately, and for just a moment, Thomas was rendered silent.

"If that's not what you're lookin' for, then what are you here for?" His voice was quiet, his gaze searching, and Y/N sighed.

"Seriously? I haven't made myself clear enough?" She raised an eyebrow, but his blank look told her all she needed to know. The tension in her shoulders dropped; her combative stance went neutral when she reached into her bag, pulling it from the chair in front of his desk. "You're the one who keeps emphasizing that you're my professor — and that's what I need you to be right now."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly lost as she withdrew Machiavelli's The Prince from her bag, beaten up and slathered in colored tabs around the edges. She added in a small voice, "I've been struggling with the reading. I did it all, but there are just a couple passages that... I need help with."

Thomas — no, Professor Jefferson (god, was she ever going to struggle with getting that down) — looked stunned, plain and simple. Y/N had expected all of his assumptions for why she'd shown up there. Two weeks earlier, they may have also been accurate ones, but ultimately, she was still just a student. He'd really had to have had a big head to think he'd take priority over that for any extended period of time.

His eyes were wide. He continued to look toward her, but his gaze was blank, slowly drifting to his desk, until finally, he sighed. "Well, shit. I, uh... I'm really sorry, Y/N. Really." If the growing guilt behind his shock hadn't been clear enough in his demeanor, it was woven tightly into his voice. His stare flickered back up to her, and despite her lingering irritation, the apology in it softened her. "I got so caught up in my own problems that I didn't even consider. I didn't mean to assume that you... y'know."

"Came here to try and get dicked down?" Y/N supplied, voice dry as she watched him expectantly. He cracked a sheepish smile.

"Somethin' like that."

"As though it'd be worth the effort," she snorted. "There are, like, thirty frats on campus, and I have a paper due Monday — in case you'd forgotten. If I wanted to get laid, I'd do it much more efficiently."

"Mm, but would it be as good?" At the clear ego in Thomas's playful stare, Y/N's eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

"Now who's crossing boundaries?"

Despite the skepticism in her voice, Thomas laughed. "'M just kiddin'. Promise."

"Hilarious." Her small, persistent smile undermined her sarcasm, and his gaze was soft.

"Alright, alright, come take a seat. Show me which pages you're strugglin' with."

"Yeah, so it's less full pages and passages than it is key phrases I just can't seem to connect to the rest of the work." Y/N lowered herself into the chair that wasn't already holding her bag as she flipped open her book to her third pink tab, turning it to show him. "Like, here. Chapter 19."

"Mhm."

"I understand what the whole page is getting at, but look at this..."

They sank easily into the text, despite being focused more on one another's voices than on the writing itself. Ten PM had long since come and gone, but as the night stretched on, the pair only continued to pass Y/N's book back and forth, bouncing from passage to passage, idea to idea as though no time had passed at all. Neither of them bothered to check any sort of a clock until Y/N let out a loud, drawn-out yawn. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"You gettin' tired?" Y/N gave a halfhearted shrug as he finally checked his watch, and his eyes widened. "Shit, it's past eleven. We should get you outta here."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." Her voice was weary as she lifted herself out of her seat, tucked her book back into her bag. "I've got everything I need for my paper, anyway."

"Glad to hear it." Thomas reached for his coat as she made her way to the door, but she paused when he asked, "You're not thinkin' of walkin' home, are you?"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "What if I am?"

Thomas furrowed his brow. "Tell me that's a joke. That's gotta be a joke." Y/N shrugged, and Thomas groaned lightly. "In that outfit, you freezin' and gettin' abducted are equally likely, you know that?"

"Aw, thanks for letting me know! Now I feel so much safer," she said, plastering on a mocking smile.

"Lemme call you an Uber," he offered, and Y/N quirked a brow.

"Are you that much of a one-trick pony?"

"If makin' sure women get home safe is my only trick, I think it's a pretty good one to have," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N had to laugh.

"I can appreciate that. An Uber would be great." Y/N pulled her bag up her shoulder as she returned to his door. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Mhm. Your driver's named Amy, and she's drivin' a blue Camry, by the way," Thomas informed her, and Y/N smiled. "G'night, Y/N."

"Night, professor."

From then on, Y/N began frequenting Thomas's office hours, only hesitantly at first. While her motives were genuine, all of them being centered around getting into grad school, she didn't want to become overbearing, especially with the one night, the sixteen stolen hours that still hung over their heads. She stopped by twice the following week, neither time staying long as other students began to trickle in, peeking nervously around the corner toward his office, knocking so quietly at first that neither Thomas not Y/N realized someone was there. She didn't need him any more than her classmates did, so she yielded her time gracefully.

Moreover, she knew that only very little of the time he offered to students wasn't already occupied, and while the reason for that was certainly clear to her, she wasn't sure whether it'd gone over his head. It wasn't until the fourth time she went to meet with him that she found he was every bit as aware as everyone else.

"Hey, Thom—" Y/N cut herself off with a wince. "Professor Jefferson, you around?" she called down the hall to his office, nose still buried in the email from the anthropology department that she'd pulled up on her phone (apparently they were having a bake sale on the east green; Y/N didn't bother to read further and learn why once she saw they'd have caramel brownies). She only glanced up when she didn't receive an answer, instead hearing chatter drift down the hall, and her footsteps slowed as she neared his doorway. Her eyebrows shot up.

Y/N recognized the woman seated — well, hardly still seated, at that point — with her back to her as Lucy Hart, who sat front and center during every single one of their lectures, who was now all but draping herself across Thomas's desk, leaned onto her forearms and with a pen between her teeth.

Though she seemed to find whatever Y/N had just missed to be hilarious, Thomas's amusement was forced, uneasy as he eased his hand away from where hers had fallen to cover it, holding the book open by one of its ends.

"Alright, Miss Hart, we'll see." Whatever the question was, Thomas wasn't about to give her a straight answer, but Lucy seemed to take that as a challenge. Her cleavage finally spilled back into the neckline of her dress when she sat back in her seat, but she traced one finger up Thomas's forearm.

"I guess we will," she replied. She hadn't seemed to have caught on to how wildly uncomfortable she was making him — Y/N could only assume Lucy had decided she'd left him 'flustered.' She reached for his copy of Hobbes's Leviathan, her perfectly manicured fingers brushing over his as she did so. "Now, where were we?"

Ahem.

From the angle they were seated at, neither Thomas nor Lucy had noticed Y/N standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised — when she cleared her throat, though, they both jumped. Their reactions to her presence couldn't have been more disparate. The relief written deep in Thomas's tiny smile was obvious, but Lucy was looking her over with a scowl.

"Hey," Y/N finally said, taking a step forward. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"'Course not." It was Professor Jefferson who answered, tone formal and body language neutral, but how quickly he'd answered, overtly cutting off Lucy, told Y/N she wasn't misreading the situation. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Yeah, Y/N," Lucy furthered, eyeing her dubiously. "Why are you here?"

Y/N's gaze flickered between the pair of them, the tension in Thomas's shoulders subtle but clear as he inched his arm further from Lucy's. "Last I checked, Professor Jefferson, we had a meeting scheduled for right about now."

Her smile was genuine despite how Thomas knit his dark brow; she hadn't yet moved past finding the ordeal wildly entertaining. "Do we?"

"I thought so," she added with a shrug, and when her pointed gaze fell to Lucy, who still looked irate sitting in the small tufted chair across from him, Thomas sighed, and Y/N felt confident it'd been a sigh of relief. He seemed to have realized the escape rope she'd thrown into his lionness's den. "Unless I got the time wrong? It could've been tomorrow evening, I—"

"No, no you're in the right," he cut her off a little too adamantly, and though she'd already begun to dig through her phone for the nonexistent calendar event, she looked up with her eyebrows raised. "'S my bad. I took the timing down wrong."

Y/N had to bite down her self-satisfied smile. "Are you sure? Because really, we can reschedule; I'm also available—"

"No. Now's just fine," he assured her, and the indignant look Lucy shot him had the beginnings of a smile creeping past Y/N's innocent mask. "Made a promise, and it'd be only right to keep it, wouldn't it?"

"It is your responsibility to model integrity, professor."

"Then I guess I've gotta make sure I don't give anybody the wrong idea."

Y/N wasn't sure whether the words, 'the wrong idea' were pointed at her or at Lucy, or whether they were even pointed at all, with her simply reading too far into a nonexistent subtext to take them at face value. She didn't dwell much longer.

"Well, thanks for stoppin' by, Miss Hart—" Vindication flashed in Y/N's eyes when she noticed his electing not to use Lucy's first name. "—I hope all this discussion's deepened your understandin' of Hobbes's view on human nature."

"Oh, I've learned quite a bit about human nature," Lucy said as she stood, and Thomas's discomfort hadn't faded. Y/N was struggling to comprehend what about her words possibly justified her tone being so suggestive. "I hope I can come back another night for you to teach me a little more of it, Thom— oh! I mean, Professor Jefferson."

She glanced bashfully at Y/N with her final few words, her sheepish front fooling no one. Y/N wasn't sure to what end, but this was a clear ploy for her jealousy — she'd been around the block once or twice. Y/N genuinely struggled to contain her amusement as Lucy shot him a wink before turning to leave, exaggerating the movements of her hips. The door fell shut behind her.

It wasn't until Lucy's footsteps were out of earshot that Thomas let out a heavy sigh, sinking down in his chair, and Y/N let out the laugh she'd spent the past ten minutes swallowing.

"So, Lucy Hart, huh? That's who you've been spending all your alleged 'office hours' with?" she started, and Thomas's glare was weak.

"C'mon, Y/N."

"Is that why your door's locked half the times I show up here? Today wasn't very subtle, you know."

"Y/N." His voice was hard when he gave her a pointed look, but with how tired he looked, she didn't push it further, just smiled.

"Relax; I'm just kidding." She shrugged off her jacket. "I know that if you were to sleep with a student, it wouldn't be Lucy. Don't worry."

He raised his eyebrows at her audacity, her smug grin, but he couldn't prevent the amusement that showed through to his expression. "Really? You're gonna go there?"

"Go where?" When she knit her brow, plastered on a confused frown, Thomas had to swallow his laugh. "Now, I'm just not sure what you're implying, professor. Do you plan on sleeping with Lucy?

"Hilarious, Y/N." His rolling his eyes left her undeterred. "In all seriousness, though, I think she really believes she is bein' subtle."

"Unfortunately, I'm well aware," Y/N sighed. "I've seen her at a few too many parties to have any illusions about what a painfully tactless flirt she is."

"You're tellin' me."

"Has it been like this all semester?" she asked. Sure, Y/N had seen how shameless Lucy was during lectures, leaving no stone unturned to draw attention to herself, but this seemed a new level of egregious. Yet, Thomas nodded.

"Once a week, every week. Least, when it isn't more than that."

"Sometimes it's more?" Y/N let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, and Thomas nodded his solemn confirmation. "Jesus. So this is why you look pissed every time she participates in class. I figured you just hated the sound of her voice as much as I do."

"Believe me; I've been startin' to."

"That's so harsh!"

"Aw, c'mon, and you wouldn't?"

Y/N shrugged, pursed her lips, but her eyes glinted with hubris. "Well," she said, "It'd depend on how hot the student was. I mean, in my opinion, if Lucy was me, it just might be a different story."

Thomas couldn't bring himself to look annoyed. "Yeah, yeah. Alright," he said, shaking his head at her words. "You think you're fuckable. I get it."

"Glad we agree." Y/N's lips quirked up into a smug smile, but Thomas raised his eyebrows.

"Hang on, now. That's not quite what I—"

"But if she's really bothering you," Y/N continued, altogether disregarding his protests, and Thomas sighed. "You know you could just, like, talk to Lucy about it, right? You're the one with the power, here."

She couldn't put her finger on exactly why he winced at the latter sentence.

"Guess so, I just... I dunno. 'S really no big deal; I'm just gettin' fed up with all that." He gave a halfhearted shrug that made her raise an eyebrow. "But don't worry 'bout that. Why're you here, if not for the meetin' we've supposedly got scheduled for tonight?"

His tone was light, playful with the question, but Y/N was still stuck on what he'd started with. "Hold on; you can't just deflect that easily."

"Deflect from what?" He furrowed his brow, but Y/N just huffed, walking toward the near side of his desk.

"From whatever you're getting 'fed up with all of,'" she said, and when she eyed him skeptically, his fatigued sigh told her she wasn't imagining things. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, sure, join me." Thomas beckoning her toward his empty chairs was almost absentminded. "But really, it's nothin'."

"No offense, but I don't know if I believe you." As she sank down into one of his guest's seats, a conflicted look flickered across his gaze, building further on the concern in her words. "What's up? C'mon; talk to me."

He hesitated. "'M serious, Y/N; it's not—"

"Thomas."

He raised an eyebrow, but it took her a moment to notice her own error. "Excuse me?"

"Professor Jefferson, I mean. Of course." Her smile was sheepish, but it just made him chuckle.

"Alright, alright. 'S nothin' serious, anyway, but 'm just gettin' sick of not bein' taken seriously."

Y/N's words were hesitant as she raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? People take you seriously."

"Mm, but do they?" He sighed as he sat back in his chair. "I'm the youngest professor on campus; half my office hours are taken up by undergrads hittin' on me. It's hard to feel like I'm gettin' a lot of respect when you don't even treat me like a professor."

"Hey, come on, I respect you," she defended, and he shook his head.

"I don't mean you, specifically, Y/N. Just... your whole class. I'm already hardly old enough to be teachin' at a university, but it also kinda sucks to see how many people pretend to care about learnin' just to get my attention," he said, and his voice was soft. His quiet sigh made Y/N frown, especially as his absent gaze wandered through his own office.

"I'm sorry," she said, and he glanced back over to her. "Keep in mind, though, you made the first move on me. Not the other way around."

Despite her having been entirely serious, her words made Thomas laugh — a full-bodied laugh, too, one that couldn't help but make her smile in return. "Thanks for lettin' me know," he said, and though she rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone, she was glad to see him lightening up. "Sorry to say it, sweetheart, but not everything's about you."

Neither noticed his casual term of endearment. "What a shame," Y/N sighed.

"Mm, I'm sure. I guess I just..." When he trailed off, Y/N raised a brow, and the concerned look in her eyes was what prompted him to continue. "I know I'm smart, 'n all, but it never feels great to feel discounted. Especially bein' new to the faculty."

"I hear that," Y/N said, her tone light but gaze solemn. "For what it's worth, I do come to your office for help because I know you can and want to provide it, not because I have some ulterior motive."

"Glad to hear it." Though his tone almost suggested he may have been being facetious, Y/N could tell that he wasn't making fun. "But on that note, thanks for givin' me an out with the Lucy fiasco. What'd you need, comin' here?"

Y/N's smile was small, all but apologetic as she unzipped her bag after pulling it into her lap. "Right. So, I know this isn't your job, and all..."

When she trailed off, Thomas eyed her suspiciously, especially as her lips only seemed to stretch further into a grin. "What's this about?"

"Is there any chance you'd be willing to read over my paper for my constitutional law seminar?" At the hopeful look she wore as she withdrew her printed essay from her bag, he had to laugh.

"Really? You're not even here for somethin' about my class?"

"Yes or no, professor?" She raised a brow, waving the packet back and forth expectantly.

"And why'd you decide to come see if I'd look through it? What makes you think I'm gonna?"

"You read over my French paper last week!" she pointed out, and Thomas sighed.

"Yeah, 'cause I speak French."

"You speak English, too. And you worked in government." Y/N shrugged, putting the paper down on his desk regardless. "So, please? I'd ask my roommate, but she's studying business, and you must know how that goes."

"You trashin' on business majors?" Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"If I was, would I be wrong?"

Her deadpan stare made him laugh. "Can't argue with that. Give it here."

He held his hand out for the essay, and she gave it to him with a wide grin. "You're the best."

"What else is new?" he asked, and despite how dry his tone was, his eyes were teasing. "You wanna go through it with me now, or should I get it back to you some other time?"

"Any chance we can go over it now?" she asked. "It might sort of be due in two days."

His eyebrows shot up. "Are you tellin' me I'm some kinda last resort?"

"Of course not!" she defended, but she hesitated before continuing, "Just an eleventh-hour supplementary resource who's going to help me get a diploma."

"I'm sure," he said, and the skeptical look he gave made the corners of her lips twitch. "You owe me, y'know that?"

"Really. I should start paying you, one of these days."

"To be fair, you do pay my salary."

"Mm, maybe some students do, but I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you."

Thomas furrowed his brow, confusion permeating every aspect of his expression as he looked back at her. "What, you 'n Elizabeth Warren linked up in a personal campaign for free college?"

"No, but the president of financial aid and I did." She shrugged. "Honestly, they saved my ass. Sorry I'm not raising your salary, or anything, but I hardly pay to go here."

When he slowly nodded, she could see the small, subtle smile tugging at his lips. "I'll try not to hold it against you. 'M glad you ended up here anyway."

Y/N's grin was exaggerated, a fact she did nothing to conceal. "Aww, professor, I knew you secretly liked having me here."

He rolled his eyes, but his smile mirrored hers. "I meant that I'm glad that money isn't holdin' you back from gettin' a good education."

"I'm sure you did."

Thomas cocked a brow. "D'you want me to read your paper or not?"

At his words, Y/N had to bite back her cocky grin, and she nodded. "Yes, please."

"Then get off your high horse 'n listen." Despite his words, amusement sat heavy in the way he was skeptically eyeing Y/N.

"Of course, professor."

"It's been shockingly chill."

Y/N was sprawled out on the carpet of her living room, a styrofoam cup of ramen in one hand and chopsticks in the other, while Dolley sat curled up at the end of the couch flipping through Netflix on their TV.

"No lingering sexual tension?" Dolley challenged, glancing down to where Y/N was slurping her noodles (she'd asserted that ramen on the couch was too high of a stain risk). Y/N shook her head, and Dolley raised an eyebrow. "Really? No secret desire to end up bent over his desk?"

"Okay, listen, what I want and what I act on are two very different things." She pointed her chopsticks at Dolley accusatorily. "I can have it both ways."

"So you're still looking for another night of fun?" Dolley raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N only grinned.

"Are you offering?"

"I could be convinced, dear." The wink Dolley sent her made Y/N laugh, broth sloshing down the side of her cup that she didn't hesitate to lick off of the back of her hand.

"Mhm, because my sex appeal is through the roof, I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll confess. I am only joking, after all," Dolley sighed, a wistful look in her eyes as she scrolled through the Netflix TV dramas category. "But only because things with James are going better than I expected."

Y/N's eyes widened; she spun in her spot on the floor. "Dolley, oh my God, spill! You've been holding out on me."

"There's not much for me to spill, really." She shrugged, and the smile she wore was coy. "He and I have just been getting on well. Nothing more to it."

"No. Uh-uh." Y/N shook her head, setting her near-empty instant ramen onto their coffee table. "You're gonna give me more than that. You have to. Clearly something's been happening."

Dolley bit her lip. "So, would we rather watch Stranger Things or The Good Place?"

"Don't you dare change the subject!"

"Alright, alright," she finally sighed, and her gaze was soft when she finally met Y/N's eyes. "So, we've been seeing each other more often. Getting coffee, grabbing lunch between classes. He's even had me read over different drafts of his thesis."

"Aww, he's using you as an editor? How romantic!"

"Make fun all you want, but he trusts me with it. Isn't that worth something?"

"Of course it is, Doll." Y/N smiled, unable to tease Dolley further when she had such a sappy look in her eyes. "But if you've been dating, why am I just finding out?"

She didn't meet Y/N's gaze, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. "We haven't been going on dates, really."

"Oh yeah? This is how you talk about hanging out with everyone else you aren't dating?" The challenge in Y/N's tone made her scoff, roll her eyes, but they both knew she had a point.

"It's nothing official."

"But do you want it to be?" Y/N quirked a brow. Dolley's smile was faint.

"Maybe a little," she said quietly, and Y/N's grin broadened.

"That's adorable. I'm thrilled for you," she said, but there was a heavy pause before she hesitantly added, "but be careful with him."

Dolley furrowed her brow, finally turning toward where Y/N sat. "What d'you mean?"

"You have a habit of quickly getting attached to men who turn out to be terrible for you. Remember Henry?"

"Knox or Clay?"

"Either. You're making my point." Y/N gave her a knowing look, but Dolley didn't seem overly offended. "You're just too quick to give people the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone deserves it."

"But that's what you love about me, dear."

"Don't you turn my undying love and affection for you against me!" Y/N protested, and though she rolled her eyes, Dolley appeared to be entertained. "I adore you for what a sweetheart you are, but it's also what men take advantage of."

"Yes, I know; you've given me this talk before," Dolley sighed. "But really, I think this time might be different. I really like James."

Y/N pursed her lips. "It'd better be. Otherwise he's gonna have hell to pay."

"I'm not too worried."

"I am."

"Would you feel better if I gave you a chance to screen him?" Y/N raised an interested eyebrow at Dolley's words. "Because I invited him to come over Wednesday night for dinner. If you'd like, it'll be a prime time for you to interrogate him."

She sighed. "I dunno, Doll. I don't want to third wheel."

"You live here. You won't be third-wheeling," Dolley pointed out. "And you wouldn't have to stay! You could just pop in, say hello, and either leave or just go wait him out in your room."

A small smile grew across Y/N's lips at her words. "And you'll seriously let me interrogate him?"

"Have at it."

"I'm in."

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: James is coming over in five minutes, so get home whenever

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: unless of course you've decided to grant him your tacit approval

Y/N sent: be home soon 😪

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: see u 😘

"Y/N?"

It was Wednesday evening, around 6 PM. Y/N's political philosophy seminar had just been let out, but she'd really spent most of her focus over the past three hours on figuring out exactly how to determine whether or not James was a piece of shit. Apparently he was bringing takeout to her and Dolley's apartment for all three of them, which she saw to be a point in his favor.

However, as her classmates filed out of the lecture hall, Y/N stood idly, taking hesitant steps forward out of her row as she tried to multitask, neither eager to stop texting Dolley or to trip all the way down the steps to the front of the room. It was Professor Jefferson who knocked her out of the reverie that'd been induced by the promise of James delivering what she imagined to be the best food she'd had in weeks.

She looked up with a brow raised, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "Hey, professor."

"You have a second to talk?"

"Oh, um..." Despite her deep-seated motivation to get home before dinner was cold, she supposed it could wait just a little longer. She nodded. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

She pulled her bag onto her shoulder as she stepped out onto the hall's staircase, maybe three rows up from where Thomas stood at the bottom floor.

He leaned nonchalantly against the first row of desks. "So, the TA I've had since first semester's leavin' in a week or two. He's goin' abroad to South Korea for the fourth quarter, 'n he's decided to resign from bein' my assistant at the end of this week, so that he can make sure he's got everything in order for the next three months."

She frowned. "That's too bad. I'm sorry to hear it." She folded her arms, paused before adding, "So what, you want me to break the news to the class that we aren't getting those papers on the Enlightenment back anytime soon?"

At her quirked brow, her playful smile, Thomas had to give a light laugh. "Mm, I'm hopin' it won't come to that."

"You should probably get to grading instead of keeping me from dinner, then."

"Oh, 'm sorry; how dare I, really?" He responded, a hand over his heart, and she had to bite back her entertained smile at the irony in his indignance.

"Honestly. I can't imagine why I put up with it."

"I'll make it up to you," he said dryly. "But seriously, 'm not just tellin' you that for the sake of small talk. What I'm sayin' is that I have an openin' to find a new TA."

"I see," she said, raising an eyebrow. "And where, pray tell, do I come into all this?"

It wasn't that his train of thought was hard to follow, nor was his implication, but until he said it outright, Y/N had no desire to make any sort of an assumption.

He smiled. "You have any interest in becomin' a TA?"

"Seriously?" She furrowed her brow. "I mean, I appreciate it, but why?"

"First off, your work's consistently at the top of this class," he said matter-of-factly. They both knew she was well aware of this, after the hours in his office she'd spent grilling him on the historical context of every one of Voltaire's assertions and the implications of every early revolution. "You're a good writer, 'n you're more than capable of reviewin' other students' work. You've also already taken most of the other classes I teach, so you're familiar with all the material."

She nodded slowly, folding her arms, and though her expression would've conveyed that she was deep in thought, she couldn't suppress her growing smile. "I see. So it doesn't have anything to do with how attractive or charming I am?"

When she raised a playful eyebrow, he laughed outright. "Whenever your charm can start gradin' thirty ten-page papers a day, I'll start takin' it into account."

"Don't underestimate it."

"Alright, alright, I'll keep it in mind." He shook his head, and his lingering smile made the corners of her lips twitch. "'M serious, though. If you've already got enough on your plate, and you don't wanna take on another commitment, that's cool 'n all, and I can always ask someone else. But would you want the position?"

She pursed her lips, eyed him hesitantly. "Will I need to apply for it?"

"Nah," he said. "By the university's policy, you've gotta send me your resume and transcript, but if you wanna be my TA, you've got it. So?"

When she bit her lip, his eyes flickered down to her mouth so briefly that she almost didn't notice it. "I don't know, Thom—" He raised a brow. "Professor. Is there any chance I can think on it and get back to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course. I can give you 'til the end of the week, if that's enough time?"

"That'd be great." As she held his gaze, she couldn't help but ponder exactly what she was being asked. She was sure his motives were pure; she couldn't imagine for the life of her Thomas giving her a job with the intent of breaking down professional boundaries so he could sleep with her, but that was where her mind was going regardless. "I'll stop by and let you know on Friday."

"I'm countin' on it." He wore a wide grin that shouldn't have and usually wouldn't have put her on edge. Her mind had fallen down the rabbit hole of fixating on just how much more time she'd be spending with him as his TA — he saw enough of her during his office hours, but she was of two minds with that. On one hand, what would a few more hours change? However, on the other, all she was hearing was that he didn't mind spending a few more hours with her. "I'll see you then?"

When he raised an eyebrow, she finally realized she'd spaced out for a solid minute, and she fixed on a smile, though it was tense. "See you then."

She left without another word.

James proved to be a nice guy when Dolley had him over; he brought burgers and milkshakes for all three of them. However, Y/N knew she'd only find herself on Dolley's bad side however many hours later. As much as he was talking, Y/N didn't retain a single word he shared about himself, despite having promised she'd use the evening to formulate her opinion on him. So much for protecting Dolley.

Instead, Professor Thomas Jefferson occupied every one of her thoughts.

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kurowrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Live-In Boyfriend - Chapter 1

Looking for live-in boyfriend, the title read.

It had only been put up the day before.

Well, well, Wei Ying thought to himself. Isn’t that exactly what I was looking for?

He clicked on the link and quickly read through the text of the advert.

Since you all enabled me yesterday - have a chapter of Wei Ying being supremely stupid. Link to AO3.

(Note that this fic is going to get mature later on. Also don’t try this at home pls.)

---

Wei Ying usually wasn’t the kind of person that eavesdropped on the conversations of people he didn’t know. Most of the time, it wasn’t worth the effort of spying, anyway.

(Too many boring people in this world.)

But something about the day he’d had so far, and the way the two girls seated next to him kept giggling and exclaiming in (pretended?) shock, made him listen in. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He was just sitting there, sipping on his depression coffee, trying to decide what he was supposed to do next.

“A website?” the girl with a truly impressive set of pink lacquered nails exclaimed. “Isn’t that super sketchy?”

She emphasised ‘sketchy’ by tapping her long, sharp nails onto the tabletop.

“Noo, not at aaaall,” the other girl, dressed in a figure-hugging dress the colour of a ripe banana, replied. “You have to provide identification and they do a background check on you, to make sure you’re not a criminal or something. The sugar daddies too, of course.”

“Oh really?” Pink Nails asked, and immediately looked a lot more interested in the topic.

Well, Wei Ying had to agree with Pink Nail’s interest – he could use one of those sugar daddies himself. Someone willing to pay for his expenses, that would be nice. A lot better than being homeless, at any rate.

“Yeah, and you can even chat with them before meeting them,” Banana said, twirling her hair around her finger coquettishly. “It’s not like I’m going to go out with just any guy.”

“And that’s where you met him?”

“Yeah,” Banana said, leaning back a little, clearly satisfied to have the undivided attention of her companion. “You have lots of choices, and you can put in your preferences, too.”

She leaned forward again, and lowered her voice to a fake whisper that did nothing to make her voice less audible over the soft café music.

“I was really lucky with my current sugar daddy. He’s really generous because he has an established career and a lot of money. He likes kinky sex, but that’s fine, because he also kinda gets off on me sleeping with other guys, so it’s not like I can’t still go out and do whatever I want. I’m just providing him with company and a pretty thing to hang off his arm whenever he goes to a party or something.”

The two women laughed, and returned to the discussion of the advantages of this website.

Wei Ying’s attention was caught. He looked down at the sad little weekend bag next to his chair that contained nearly all of Wei Ying’s worldly possessions, discounting the boxes of books he had managed to stow away in Jiang Yanli’s attic. He’d had to sell all his furniture because he had no space where he could put it anymore. The landlord had kicked him out despite Wei Ying’s best attempts at negotiation (curse his entire bloodline), and now Wei Ying was, essentially, homeless. He had no idea how to weather the next few weeks. He had no stable address, and he needed to look for a new job. Things weren’t looking good for him.

So, he sipped on his possibly last coffee for a long time and pretended not to listen in to the conversation of the two women next to him. And when Banana finally mentioned the name of website she had been using, he felt compelled to casually unpack his own laptop, make use of the café’s free Wi-Fi, and enter the name of the website into his browser.

He was just curious, that was all.

His search returned with the result that this website was in fact the equivalent of a dating website, only for sugar babies and other forms of… special companionship. The company claimed to be classy and strict with their background checks, made assertions of quality and high customer satisfaction. And the registration as a potential sugar baby, companion, or whatever else they wanted to call it, was free.

Wei Ying paused for a moment, wondering if he really should do such a thing. All assertions from the provider aside, it was still a risky thing.

He took another look at the bag at his feet. It couldn’t get much worse than it already was, could it?

He clicked the ‘new account’ button and filled out the application without a second thought.

---

Looking for the right sugar-person wasn’t exactly a simple thing to do, Wei Ying realised about three pages in. He had decided early on that the gender of this potential sugar person didn’t actually matter, but that had the simultaneous advantage and disadvantage of increasing his possible matches considerably. He wasn’t sure how to make a choice in this wild new world that had suddenly opened himself up to him.

He was a bit nervous about the having sex part, too. He tried to imagine having sex with someone he didn’t really know and maybe didn’t find very attractive, but he drew a complete blank. It might be better to stay on the safe side and choose someone who didn’t have sex as a prerequisite. That might work out better for everyone involved.

God, with all these options and decisions, it was as complicated as looking for a job.

Well, technically, if he did it right, it might be a job. Well, not really, but he might get enough money to keep him afloat for a little bit. And with enough money, he might be able to both afford a decent apartment and find a well-paying new job.

He absent-mindedly scrolled past adverts looking for highly specific… qualifications that Wei Ying definitely didn’t have, and was considering giving up when he saw an advert for the same city he was living in.

Looking for live-in boyfriend, the title read.

It had only been put up the day before.

Well, well, Wei Ying thought to himself. Isn’t that exactly what I was looking for?

He clicked on the link and quickly read through the text of the advert.

Looking for live-in boyfriend

The ideal candidate must be clean, quiet, obedient, and sophisticated. Must be able to play his part convincingly around relatives, business associates, and friends. Good table manners and skilful socialising are required.

Physical relations are not required, but negotiable if so desired. Strictly no romantic entanglements. Affairs during the duration of the contract will lead to immediate termination.

I offer a large apartment with own private room. All ensuing costs (rent, food, clothing, allowance etc.) are covered.

The advert didn’t reveal much about the writer and his personality, so it was difficult to say anything about how well they’d fit together. But the man offered a room! Without the prerequisite of sex!

He clicked on the profile of this potential sugar daddy to find out more about him. The man, who went by L. Z., was the same age as Wei Ying, and had been working in his family’s company ever since he graduated university. Someone who had been born into wealth, probably.

He lived alone and was openly gay, so his family would expect him to bring a man to public events and family dinners. His hobbies included music, reading and tea ceremony. All in all, Wei Ying started to wonder if he was being catfished, because the age and occupation said successful young man, but the rest of it said boring middle-aged uncle with a receding hairline.

But what did Wei Ying care about boring when such a perfect opportunity presented itself to him? He didn’t want some kind of old, kinky dude. He simply wanted a place to stay, and if that stay came with an allowance and some social contact, it would be perfect for him. He had good table manners. And he did well at socialising. Most of the time.

He decided that ‘quiet’ and ‘obedient’ were relative things. He could be quiet! Sometimes! If he was reading interesting things!

He was going to contact this person, worries and fears be damned. What use was it to wait around? If this man was actually for real, he might get snatched up by someone else quickly.

He clicked on the 💌 button on the sidebar of the profile, and typed out a quick message.

Hi L. Z.!

My name is Wei Ying. I live in the same city as you and as coincidence would have it, I’m currently looking to be a live-in boyfriend! We’re the same age, too, so I think we would work very well as a couple!

I also like reading (if you have a library, I’d be all over that) and I think I can safely promise not to have any affairs while we’re dating. As for the rest, I think it would be best to judge for yourself. I’m free the next few days, so I have time for a personal meeting!

I’m a little curious though – why are you looking for a live-in boyfriend? Not to judge you, since I’m obviously responding to your advert, but you seem like a man that’s very put together. You probably could choose anyone you wanted, so why an advert?

Best, Wei Ying

He didn’t really think that he would get an answer soon, and half expected his message to go ignored, but it took barely an hour until a notification pinged on his phone, indicating that he’d received a reply.

He eagerly clicked the ‘view message’ button.

Dear Wei Ying

Thank you for your message.

I agree with you. Someone from the same city and of the same age would be a good potential partner. If you do not mind, I would like to invite you to my apartment for a personal meeting. We can meet in a café if you are more comfortable meeting on neutral ground, but you should know where you would live before you make any decisions.

To answer your question: I am not interested in a romantic relationship, but my family has been concerned about my happiness ever since I came out as gay. They want to see me in a fulfilling relationship. I want to make them stop worrying. A contractual arrangement will take care of these issues. Once we terminate the relationship, it would also provide me with a good reason not to date for some time.

Best regards,

Lan Zhan

Wei Ying gaped a little. That was a… very decisive statement. This Lan Zhan certainly didn’t beat around the bush.

Oh god, was he really catfished? Human trafficking, perhaps? But then…

He had no time to lose, and getting a home and money as a package deal was very tempting. If Jiang Yanli ever got wind of this, she might strangle him with her own bare hands. But well. She never would get wind of it. Wei Ying would make sure of that.

He pulled out his laptop again, and typed out a second answer.

Hi Lan Zhan!

Nice to meet you again. 😊

Meeting you at the apartment is fine, just know that I’m going to inform a friend of my whereabouts and check in with them to make sure everything is fine.

Tell me your address and a time that works for you!

Best,

Wei Ying

He sent the message and within a few minutes, he had an address and a time – the next day, at 5.30 pm. Lan Zhan also assured him that he was perfectly fine with Wei Ying telling a friend where he was. So maybe not a catfish, after all?

Wei Ying immediately looked for the address online, and it was a nice, modern building in the centre of town. Not some kind of seedy warehouse or an abandoned house. If he ended up disappearing in that part of town, there would probably be witnesses.

He sent a short confirmation to Lan Zhan, telling him that he would be there at the desired time. And then, he spent the rest of the evening panicking about what he had done.

He just barely remembered that he needed to contact Nie Huaisang and use him as security. Nie Huaisang was the only one he could think of right now that wouldn’t try to talk him out of this. Jiang Cheng would just straight up murder him.

He had committed now. There was no way back.

---

His internet search had already informed him that the apartment was in the better part of town, so Wei Ying had expected a rather classy apartment building. What he hadn’t expected was that said apartment building came with an actual concierge. He’d never had to go through a concierge to meet any of his friends so far. The entrance hall almost looked like a hotel.

Good gracious, this might all be an elaborate prank.

On the other hand, if he disappeared, now he had another witness.

He walked up to the concierge’s desk and smiled at the man behind the desk winningly.

“Hi, my name is Wei Ying. I’m here to meet Lan Zhan.”

The man gave him a critical look, from his ponytail down to the thick black leather boots he always wore, and picked up the phone in front of him.

He entered a number and let it ring a few times.

“Good evening, Mr. Lan,” the concierge said when someone picked up on the other end of the line. “A Mr. Wei is here to see you. Yes, understood. I will send him up immediately.”

The concierge came out from behind his desk and directed Wei Ying to the elevator. He held the door open for Wei Ying and pushed the button for the right floor, then bid him goodbye.

“Thank you!” Wei Ying called through the closing elevator doors, but the concierge was already out of sight.

Oh well.

He was going to meet Lan Zhan. Right now.

He quickly pulled out his mobile phone and tapped out a message to Nie Huaisang.

[Wei Ying, 05:29 pm] I’m going up to the apartment now. IT COMES WITH A CONCIERGE. 😱

The door pinged and opened onto an empty hallway with elegantly tiled floor and a tasteful but abstract mural on the wall. Wei Ying stepped out of the elevator and looked around curiously. Which way was he supposed to go?

“Wei Ying?”

There, at the end of the hallway, a man stood in the frame of an opened door.

This must definitely be a catfish, Wei Ying decided then and there.

There was no way that a man this beautiful needed his help.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #live in boyfriend AU

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 4 years ago

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Any tips for an aspiring social worker

+Be aware of any of your own trauma. Dont be one of the people who think they can do therapy AND get a degree at the same time. You will burn out, there are hundreds every year. Please dont be the person in lectures who takes yup 45 minutes crying over past trauma every session; you need to seek counselling for that from a professional who can help, not from your newbie classmates.

You may think its an exaggeration, but No. Unfortunately, no.

This ties in to your own biases, what you are likely to take to heart if the person fails, etc. You need to work with your supervisor around clients that may trigger something for you; or reconsider the role you are aiming for, etc.

+Have personal skills, you will be making and repairing relationships often. You can’t be someone who is super introverted and unable to start relationships with the clients; because often you are going to be the one doing the Hard Talks about difficult subjects. It doesnt mean you have to be a drill sargeant, but it means you need to have the confidence to talk with anyone.

If you’re a bit shy, work on talking to people and even looking into little courses. You’re not needing qualifications in public speaking, but you do need to have yourself in a position wherein you can talk to someone, even a whole family, or even lawyers, and police. Via phone, video, face-to-face, etc.

+Have work clothes and home clothes. Also court clothes, if you work in areas that need it.

Wear smart casual, you need to look presentable but not be like, dripping with diamonds and playing ‘rich person ministers to the Poors’. It happens, they get told off.

DO NOT WEAR SKIN TIGHT CLOTHES. Or ripped skinny jeans, or have your cleavage/buttcrack hanging out. Please. Strapless backs and short shorts also no.

Students sometimes turn up in this and it is dangerous. Especially the ladies. Sometimes you work with people who are very dangerous, who will interpret clothing for consent, and/or have incredibly low respect for women. When something happens, they will point to the workplace dresscode and absolve themselves of the situation.

Do not wear dangly earrings, scarves or thick necklaces/anything you do not want taken. And if in a hospital role, there are additional rules about what can and cannot be worn (bare below the elbow rule).

Also, enclosed shoes. IF you are in a service that assists families with dysregulated lives, or in the hospitals, etc, you will have strict policies about footwear for your safety.

+Get the flu shot. Trust me. Do it. You talk to so many people, by the time one catches a cold and you start showing symptoms, you’ve seen like twenty people and they all have families.

+Be used to working to tight deadlines. They are always there, esp in hospital social work where you legit have to account for every minute of the day and patient seen on this awful little system.

We are understaffed in most areas, and you will need to work hard.

BUT, self-care is imperative. Even if it is only making sure you leave before 9pm each night lmao.

+Be able to let insults go. You are going to be dealing with people often in the worst part of their life, be it mental health, in the justice system, having their kids removed, being disabled and persistently denied assistance, having significant alcohol/drug concerns, people who have experience extreme sexual harms or domestic violence, people who are being stalked, people in crisis etc.

At some point someone will call you some horrific things, or threaten you, or make nasty comments about you, etc. They may try to make constant complaints, etc. And as frustrating as that is, you have to understand their frustration and anger and fear.

You do not have to sit there and listen to them swear at you, that’s not what this means. It means that when someone is heightened and calling you a cunt, or something more inventive, you don’t give them the reaction they want; you can acknolwedge that they are upset/etc, or give them space by ending the call/leaving the room.

Think about when something happened for you and it was the Worst and you swore or threatened, etc. When you are calm, it seemed ridiculous, didn’t it? But that was you processing big, complicated feelings in the only way that felt right at the time. Same for them.

+You need to be aware that some clients have done or experienced terrible things, but you need to be open to the individual within the trauma. For example, someone may not be showing their emotional distress or pain or grief etc in the way you think they should, so you might discount it. When, someone who has gotten to know the client is aware that they tend to do ____ behaviour when they are having flashbacks, which is not a behaviour normally associated with the trauma.

Also, biases again. Just because someone is on drugs and denying to you that they have a problem, does not mean some part of them isn’t aware they do have one. Relapses are common. Soemtimes it is about discussing what was happening for them this week that made them use again, what they could try next time, if they are using their support networks. And never putting them in the Hopeless box.

If you are really struggling with a client, lean on your team, talk to your supervisor and see what else can be done or if there is another social worker with more experience who can be involved even for a short-term intervention.

+Don’t throw jargon and insider terms around when talking to clients, it’s rude. Explain things, use pauses so they can think.

+Look into the primary populations of your area/the area you intend to work in. Are there a high level of Indigenous persons? Refugees? People whose first language isn’t english and may need extra help with engagment?

What are your immediate thoughts (learned stigmata/stereotypes) about these peoples? How can you learn more?

In Aus, we work closely with Indigenous communities and agencies around social work matters. Making sure everyone is supported, heard, and can understand the concerns being raised/what is needed to help the client move forwards. There are many people out there who see this as ‘coddling’ or ‘unfair to non-Indigenous people’; but it is simply making certain that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are on the same footing as any non-Indigenous client.

And that cultural options are put on the table, such as having a family member step up to take in a child whilst the parent is not well; or trying a community-focused approach to helping with a drug concern, and using the right agencies so that they have appropriate supports.

Would it be fair to have a non-english speaking client in a courtroom without an interpreter? Why? Would you claim that they should know english and the entire legal system bc they were in your country? Of course not, that’s absurd. But some people think that way.

Would it be fair to ask someone in a wheelchair to file a form on the top floor of a building with no elevators, by 5pm, or lose their home? Why? Would you think they are complaining or ‘lying’ if they were able to mobilise a few steps without the chair, on a good day? That they were being ‘lazy’ and ‘deserved’ to lose their housing? Of course not, that’s absurd. But some people think that way.

When the military put men into service in the wars, they made anyone who could pass an english test an officer and the rest priovates who would die first in battle. Was this fair? Why not? Because it ensured the rich white dudes with private tutors got the best spots (totally unqualified) while the poor, poc and refugees were used as cannon fodder. Many could have been good officers if the test was about competence, but it wasn’t. Some people feel this was fair.

There are still people who think they ‘did the right thing’ whilst participating in the Stolen Generations; but then, they also thought taking babies from single mothers was appropriate too. That women couldn’t vote or be trusted with money, that is was ‘kinder’ to take a stillborn away and dispose of it without the mother ever seeing... rather than let her hold them, and say goodbye the way she needed to. Not to mention the english children shipped over to Aus to be used as little slaves and cruelly abused by Priests and Nuns and ‘upright christian citizens’. Not to mention lobotomies for when people were too emotional/refusing to play the game. Forcing hormone treatments on men and women to stop their homosexuality or sexually abusing them to ‘fix them’. Not to mention all the Twilight births nonsense where they tried to remove the pregnant person from the equation entirely, and it kept causing post partum depression. Not to mention... Not to Mention... NOT TO MENTION...

We have a lot of broken little old men and women and nonbinary (who do or don’t realise it) now, because of these “helpful interventions”.

You need to be aware of the harm that has been done, and aware of your own practice, so this damage can’t happen again and again.

Understand that your perspective and the worries/concerns you hold are often different to those of the client, because you are individuals who grew up in very different ways.

And remember, being a rich white person in a high paying job with good social standing doesn’t mean you can’t be charged for drug possession or have child safety knock on your door about the bruises you leave. Never think people are Above being awful, and never Assume people are because they are poor, a different colour, have not had your advantages, or have a disability/poor mh or addiction.

Clients are people, like you. Never think that you are above needing help too, one day. We all do, humans are built to rely on the group, on the social bonds we make from the minute we are born.

+Do you overreact to things? Sometimes a client will tell you about something that happened years ago, but they may phrase it like it happened yesterday (because of how it has returned to their mind, etc), and if you were to overreact to that immediately it can break the relationship/cause harm. You could say, “I can hear that this is very distressing for you, thank you for telling me about this difficult event in your life. Would it be alright if I asked you a follow-up question about when this occurred?” Sometimes a client will disclose things to you, and the goal is to remain in the conversation. They do a lot of this preparation at university, but you also need to have a personal ability to not panic off the bat.

+Ask yourself, is there anyone I would refuse to work with... and then examine Why. How would you react if a person like that came onto your caseload?

+Do not become overly emotionally invested in a client. It will be said in training over and over again, but you need to have clear boundaries; and being too invested in their success can hinder your ability to provide appropriate assessments for the client. Meaning they are not getting the care they need; which can sometimes be a harsh conversation about how you can see they are trying, but have backslid recently, so what is happening?

+Look at any internal biases and prejudices you may have. Did you have extreme mental health concerns that may make you feel more sympathetic to a parent or client, and this could blind you to the other concerns present? Didyou grow up rich and now have unrealistic expectations of what is necessary to be a good person? Do you think that all ‘those people’ should ______ ? Why? Question yourself. If you find yourself stereotyping or pigeonholing someone as ‘just another ____ trying to _____’ stop. Think about it. Where did you get that idea?

+Be aware of professional boundaries, do not be friends with the clients, but don’t be cold. Always let your bosses know about potential conflicts of interest to protect you.

Like, don’t loan the client $5, don’t hang out at the cinema because they’re ‘a great person’, etc.

And be aware that you have more power in this dynamic, so you have to be careful not to abuse it.

+You need to be good at record keeping, and honest. Everything you do is documents, referrals, reports, affidavits, forms, and a million little notes for this and that. It is imperative you are accurate, use the format required, and be honest. If you saying “Have you tried not taking drugs?” to a client sends them into a rage, you don’t write “Client was heightened and threatened me without reason at today’s session” in the notes. That’s putting a knife in their back.

”Client was triggered when I, the practitioner, made an inappropriate remark (”Have you tried not taking drugs?”) today. They told me I am a “fucking whore who should kill myself” and threw their chair across the room before leaving the building. I have discussed this matter with my supervisor, and we are going to call Client at 3pm today, to provide a formal apology for this statment and attempt to repair the professional working relationship, as they have been making significant progress with this agency until today’s event.” Whole scenario, tells the real story. You will make mistakes, but it is about being able to accept this and move forwards.

Accurate documentation is a must, may be needed for court.

+You will need to have a good memory. A good way of keeping little notes to unlock the full encounter when you write casenotes and reports.

+Make connections. Every client will need a support system around them, and if you have an inroads with different agencies, it will help them out. For example, if your client has drug concerns, then being aware of the agencies and counsellors in the region broadens their safety net.

Knowing the practitioners gives you someone to ask for professional advice around, say “Good Morning Kim, I know your agency handles Centrelink application often for non-english speaking clients. I have a client who is new to the country and is struggling to complete the financial aid forms, they speak Language. Would I be able to refer them to your agency, or will they need a more specific agency who handle Language -speaking persons?”

You have, in a deidentified way, sought help for a client through a known agency and can now refer them pending the answer. Etc.

+If you are not sure about something, ask your supervisor. They have several years on you, and almost all areas of social work prescribes to one or another Acts (legal requirements) which they are required to have a strong grasp on.

Get to know any legislation in the area you are aiming for. This will help immensely.

+Doing a degree gets you two fieldwork practicals, in different areas. These really help you identify which area you want to go for; your main goal going into a degree may not be the one you settle on. Many people have an idea where they want to work and change their minds after their placements, or really feel connected to a different area, etc.

+Mostly, be certain this is what you want.

Have your own support network.

Be aware that you must uphold confidentiality, at all times. No posting to social media people, please...

Be aware that in small communities you are likely shopping at the same place as clients. Ask them how they want you to react when you see each other in public (eg. please don’t acknowledge me, or happy to give a wave) so they feel comfortable.

Don’t disclose personal information to a client. There’s a difference between “Yes, I can see that you are having trouble with baby; I recall they get quite fussy at teething time, have you tried a cold biting ring?” and “My son, Chadley, is eight but when he was two he used to just keep biting the furniture and his poor teacher, Mrs Allyways! At least he’s grown out of it now, but I just know Bailey’s going into that phase soon, the dangers of having kids a few years apart!”

I know who your child had as a teacher, and now the school as well, esp if its a small town. I know you have two children, their names, and your last name so I could go get them from school if I wanted to. I know you work until 5pm, and someone could pick them up.

Etc.

Mostly, be a decent human being who does their best and doesn’t walk in thinking they’re better than everyone, and you can do okay. Have a good support network, use them, and seek help if you struggle.

Uni is drawn out and a bit boring, but you will get a lot from it (even if you only see it in hindsight).

#dunno #kind of on the spot there for this one #Anonymous #also if you were the fucking nightmare bully bitch at school who is now thinking they're a caregiver type who should be a nurse or social w #the answer is NO

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captainillogical · 4 years ago

Text

Home Ch.1

The domesticity of living with an alien who hasn't quite had the chance at a normal life.

Distant Lands sequel.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

thanks for still reading my shit, love you all

You slam the fridge door, taking a swig out of the bottle of water in your hands that you had just grabbed from the top shelf. It’s hot as hell out this afternoon, and you’ve just finished grabbing the last of your stray belongings to move across town.

“-and you need to make sure to keep your phone on, I’ll be sending you calendar updates to your current schedule. Things have been moved around twice for next week, so expect your lesson times to change again.”

“I appreciate all this Pearl, but you’re acting like I’m moving farther than 5 miles and a single warp away.” You say to the gem lecturing you off a list she’s made on her phone.

“I just like to be sure.” Pearl narrows her eyes at you slightly. “I know you’re capable of handling things on your own, I just worry.”

“You fret like you’re my mom.” You retort with an eye roll, taking another sip of water. Garnet grins at that, leaning against the counter. It’s just the three of you here in the kitchen.

“Well, I have known you for quite a few of your formative years.” She huffs, cheeks tinting blue. “I remember when you first responded to that ad Greg put up, you walked in and-”

“Pearl, oh my god, please no.” You cut her off, capping your bottle, it crinkling slightly in your hands.

“I think she’s getting empty nest syndrome.” Garnet says with a small chuckle.

“Y/N, you are sure about this, right?” Pearl ignores Garnet’s comment. “I know that living on your own can be fairly difficult as is..”

“We talked about this extensively yesterday, Pearl.” You sigh, giving her a specific look. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been through hell already enough as is, this will be a walk in the park for me. Besides, I’ve got Spinel.”

“That’s kind of what I’m worried about.” She replies, levelling her gaze with yours.

You try not to sigh out loud at her again.

Okay, so. Really, it's been less than a week since you've solidly been back on Earth. You can't reasonably expect Pearl of all people to be one for quick adjustment. But you did spend a long time with her the day prior going over all her questions about the surface of Golgotha for an updated gem archive entry she's working on. You were kind of hoping it would calm most of her worries about this in general, but you feel like based on some of your responses it might've made her worry even more. Not to mention paired with that incident in the kitchen the other day with Amethyst..

Even if it was a little painful for you for multiple reasons; like having to re-live terrifying moments in detail - it wasn't as painful as the BARRAGE of questions she pummelled you with about the nature of your relationship with Spinel once she got you alone. Fucking mortifying, that was, when Pearl had the audacity to ask if you two had been like this prior to coming back to Earth. You tried keeping much of it to yourself as possible as you aren't super well-adjusted to everything yourself. Like jesus fucking christ, Amethyst and Garnet accepted your text message without much question, other than a thumbs up from her and a solid wall of emojis and expletives from the shorter gem. And maybe a couple roasts about it that you're not going to mention. But they had managed to accept it without embarrassing you much, why couldn't Pearl be less.. Pearl about it?

“What do you think is honestly going to happen?” You retort flatly.

“Well, I don’t have-” Pearl stops to spare a glance at Garnet, who barely even reacts.

“Future-vision is cheating.” She says, lips still forming a wry smile. “She will be fine as long as she remembers to make sure the oven is off.”

“You’re gonna make me paranoid..” You groan. “And see Pearl? I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so." She says like she's waiting to be proven right somehow. You know her enough to not be offended by it. "You didn't forget about your stuff in the bathroom, did you?"

"Nah, but it's not like I won't be back, y'know, in-case you maybe find my missing rubber ducky." You say, feeling your stomach rumble. "And while I do love you both, really, I've got to go get some food in me and finish the lesson plan for next week.."

"Fiiine, go! Clearly we're just here to nag you." Pearl says with a bit of a huff, slight pout on her face, but you can tell she's mainly doing it for the dramatics.

"Don't be like that." You hold back rolling your eyes at her, even if you really want to. You grab the bag with the rest of your things off the counter, shouldering it.

"Did you give me sitting in and watching your first class any more thought?" Garnet asks, resting her hands on her hips. You can't see her eyes, but you know if you could she'd be studying your face for an answer. "It might help with the nervousness you're feeling."

"Yeaaaaaaahhhh," You let out a breath a bit nervously, having given that exactly zero extra thought. "I'm still pretty sure that you'd just give me performance anxiety. Give me a few more days to think about it."

You say your goodbyes for now, toeing your shoes on and heading out the door down to the beach below.

Ugh. It's hot, and so is the sand.

You should think about finally replacing your old car. You know, the one that died last year that Peridot said was worth more in scrap metal? You miss that old junker. You'd have to save up a considerable amount of money you don't have, but, ugh, you'll think about this later.

The breeze makes your hair fly into your face, and you're annoyed the entire walk over to town. Your stomach growls again, and you decide on pizza for your afternoon lunch.

It's kind of a no-brainer when your feet lead you to Fish Stew Pizza, and your hand is already on the door handle and opening it when you subconsciously realize a small hangup, possibly, just as the door opens.

Kiki's inside and manning the counter, and she's the only one in the establishment at all currently. You let out a breath of relief.

"Weeeeeeelcome." She greets you without even looking up from her phone.

"Afternoon'." You say in greeting, feeling awkward preemptively. Kiki looks up immediately when she hears your voice, and her facial expression is completely surprised at yours at first before she quickly schools it to more of a casual, neutral one.

Ah. Lars came through.

You see.. after that first day back you utterly loathed the idea of explaining why you're now pink to literally everyone else, and Lars offered to send out a couple quick informative texts. What a fucking bro. You should probably help him out sometime just for the effort alone.

"Y/N, it's good to see you." Kiki says, trying not to be too obvious that she's giving you a glance-over.

"Thanks, you too." You hear coming out of your mouth, the air conditioning of this place cooling you off rapidly. God you even SOUND awkward. "It's pretty empty in here for the time of day, that's kind of odd."

"Yeahhh, but I'm not gonna complain about it. I'm covering Jenny's shift right now and I'll take the slowness if it means I can just be on my phone.." She's staring at the scar on your face, and you feel.. weirdly self conscious about it.

"Typical Jenny. You gotta stop going easy on her." You reply, leaning against the counter.

“Oh, I wasn’t going easy. She’s doing my chores this week because of this, so actually she’s the one getting the short stick out of this. I had nothing planned with my time off.” She sets her phone down, and oh my god, she will not stop staring.

“Will you just say what you’re thinking and get this over with?” You spit out, impatient. She reels back for literally only a split second before leaning forward eagerly and getting right into your space.

“Lars wasn’t fucking lying, huh. That place messed you UP.” She reaches over the counter to touch your hair, and if it were nearly anyone other than Kiki you’d punch them in the face. But she helped you deal with her sister back then, so. “I saw you maybe a week and a half ago, and now look at you! Pink like Lars and with a giant scar on your face to boot! What didn’t happen to you there?!”

“I er, didn’t get the face scar there, and it wasn’t the only one I gained.” You say with a grimace. Your stomach growls again. “How much exactly did he tell you?”

“What!? I mean he told me about you being kidnapped by a deranged gem and that you died, but that was about it!” She replies, expression bewildered.

You sigh. God. Okay. That’s not the worst thing he could’ve told people. But he’s not making this any easier for you anyway.

“Listen, can I order a small plain cheese pizza? And then I’ll enlighten you.”

“Yeah, you got it.” She grins, getting this spark in her eye while ringing you up and even giving you a hefty discount. It’s why she’s your favorite sister of the two.

You move to sit by the window table, setting your bag down on one of the other chairs and pulling out your lesson notes.

You don’t really feel super up to this right now, but you should probably go over a few things by yourself that Pearl gave you some pointers on. You’re nervous, like really nervous about teaching this class, if you’re honest with yourself. But you also think it will be fun, and interesting, even. You’re only giving two hour-long lessons a week for right now, as the others wanted to see how well you’d fair. Your first lesson is in just a few days. Also, the class currently has 43 gems signed up for it, and that’s quite a bit of a hefty crowd.

You were expecting an interest of maybe.. 4 gems total. This is a little unnerving. You only have the one flier posted up with the other new classes on that board, so you’re guessing word of mouth was how it spread.

You feel your phone buzz a couple times in your pocket, and you pull it out to see who it is. When you see who the messages are from, you can’t help but feel a smile break out on your face that you have a hard time suppressing. Oh, and whoops, you forgot to reply to her earlier messages while you were being lectured by Pearl.

[14:13] Spinel: uuuuugh i just want today to be OVER please

[14:13] Spinel: i think bismuth enjoys sending me to help peridot like some kind of sadist

[14:13] Spinel: its like she knows i dont want to hear about camp pining hearts for the third day in a row? i get peridot needs assistance but i haven’t even seen this show and now i have no need to ever physically watch it

[15:42] Spinel: you can’t ignore me in person Y/N

[15:42] Spinel: i haven’t seen you in two days and this is how you treat me?

[15:42] Spinel: like an afterthought?

[15:42] Spinel: hurtful

You roll your eyes to yourself, still grinning. You can feel affection coming through the words even if that isn’t what they’re saying. You’re also ecstatic at the concept of the others getting on with Spinel quickly enough to annoy her on purpose now. You miss her face, and feel a little silly about it, considering it hasn’t even been that long. It sucks, but at least she texts you fairly often. And as of today, well, you get to live with her.

[15:43] Y/N: Rest assured, I can ignore you in person.

[15:43] Y/N: Dramatic ass.

[15:43] Y/N: I’m going to be seeing you in like, an hour anyway. Chill.

“Why are you smiling like that?” You hear, jolting upright in your seat as Kiki sets down your personal pizza in front of you with a glass of water. It smells heavenly. “You never smile like that.”

“Uh,” You reply, caught off-guard, and set your phone down. “Was just replying to something funny Steven said.”

“Sure.” She says in a tone that screams ‘I don’t believe you whatsoever but okay’.

You reach out for a slice of pizza and take a bite, cheese almost dripping all over the lesson plans in front of you. Kiki moves the papers aside for safekeeping, and you mutter out a quick thanks.

“So,” She starts, resting her chin on her hand. “You gonna enlighten me, or what?”

You finish chewing your slice of pizza, and grab another. And then you indulge her questions. All of them.

She has a lot.

You leave out all the details of what happened between you and Spinel, you’re really not ready to have those kinds of conversations yet. Dealing with Steven giving you shit for it has been more than enough to want it from anyone else, and you haven’t even told Lars about it - even though you told him you would whenever you finally confessed to her.

Also.. uh. You won’t lie. Between the both of you being pretty fucking busy almost right off the bat, you haven’t exactly, er. Had the girlfriend conversation with Spinel yet. Other than that one night, people are always around you two. You know you gotta just talk to her about it to clarify, but shit, you’re stupidly anxious about it. Part of your brain is literally screaming at you about being stupid about it, because sure, you had the most nerve-wracking love confession of your life and you two boned and also she definitely said she felt the same way, but what if this is just real casual to her?

Oh my god, you over-think fucking everything. Get it together.

You think not seeing her for two days in-person might be driving you nuts, a little.

"Lars didn't really tell me anything about Spinel. He gave me the jist of it, but told me to ask you for everything else whenever you seemed okay with it." She lets out a long breath, and you watch her eyes focus on you. "Imagine what would've happened if you weren't there with him that day. Do you think she would've killed him?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Honestly? She definitely had the strength to, but it doesn't really matter to me now. She wouldn't harm a hair on anyone's head." You reply, trying to not mull over the Spinel you experienced when you first met.

"You seem to have full faith in her." She states, a small smile forming on her face. "You didn't treat any of the other gems that tried killing Steven with any kindness for at least a month. You're less forgiving than Pearl."

"I spent a month with her alone on a planet, Kiki. I had to learn how to work with her, and she saved my life." You retort.

"Yeah, only cause you put yourself in danger for her." She narrows her eyes at you. “And you’re moving in with her today?” Kiki asks, expression a bit suspicious, smile still on her face. This makes you uneasy.

“Yeah?” You reply, confused. “It’s not that weird, is it? I moved in with Steven fairly quickly.”

“Yeah, except that was a different type of situation, you were a guardian for him. And this is you we’re talking about here.” She levels you with a look. “I feel like I’m missing something you’re not telling me. Like a key part to all of this.”

“L-like what?” You shove another slice of pizza into your mouth to shut yourself up. Not fucking today, dammit. Not today.

“I dunno, there’s just something..” She trails off, her eyebrows drawn together on her forehead as if she’s got a thought within her grasp. She looks at your hand, grasping your phone, squinting her eyes. She then shakes her head. “Whatever, you’ll tell me eventually. It’s not as if you’re sleeping with her.”

You choke on the slice of pizza you’re currently chewing, and violently so.

Kiki’s eyes go wide, and you put a hand up as if you can stop whatever thoughts are racing through her head. Her jaw drops.

“Wait,” You manage to choke out, gasping for air and finding it very difficult. You can't tell if you can feel your face going red from the lack of air, or from this conversation.

“Y/N.” Is all she says, voice dripping incredulously. “Y/N!”

“Kiki, you have the wrong idea-”

“I cannot believe you.” She says, mouth still open. She’s got half a grin on her face like she’s just unearthed the most juicy gossip, and you are SO not here for this. "Wait until Jenny hears about this."

"Kiki!" You wail, and sputter out another cough. "Kiki you can't tell anyone!"

"Why not!?" She cackles. "And besides, I don't even know if she'd believe me anyway. Y/N of all people?!"

"Tell her, and I'll tell Sadie you had a crush on her for a year." You spit out in a panic.

"You wouldn't!" Kiki narrows her eyes at you, face of mock betrayal.

"I would. Watch me." You state, grabbing your phone off the table pointedly.

"Okay okay! Sheesh." She puts her hands up in surrender. "So you gonna tell me the dirty deets or what?"

"No, I don't kiss and tell." You scowl at her, but she doesn't seem put off by it at all.

"Knowing you, that doesn't surprise me." She grabs your glass of water, taking a sip of it. You're not even annoyed. "Guess you and Greg have something in common."

She laughs at her own joke, and you can't help putting your face in your hands and groaning loudly and dramatically. It only makes her laugh harder.

"Shut uuuup." You sigh, grabbing the glass of water from her and taking your own sip.

The two of you talk for awhile as she grills you about Spinel, and you share what you're comfortable with. Eventually, she gets a family of customers in that she has to attend to, and you busy yourself with what you had come here originally to do.

Time passes and you lose track a bit, until your phone vibrates on the table and shakes you out of your concentration.

It's a couple texts from Spinel.

[17:04] Spinel: it'll be a while until I'm free

[17:04] Spinel: there were some ISSUES apparently

You stare at your phone. You try not to be irritated at the situation.

It's not like you haven't seen her in a hot minute or anything. You weren't eager at all to be able to see her face or hear her voice. You sigh, and text her back.

[17:05] Y/N: It's fine.

You stare at your phone for a little bit, but she seems busy enough to not have the chance to respond quickly.

Fuck it, it's not like you have anything else to do. You're tired of the papers and notes in front of you. Might as well make your way over to little Homeworld and wait for Spinel to be free from Peridot's tiny demon hands.

You pack up, and make sure to say your goodbyes to Kiki, who yells at you to text her as you leave the shop.

It doesn’t take you that long to get to little homeworld, and thankfully you know where Peridot is usually working as of late.

You pass by the town center, and the glass in some of the taller buildings glare in the evening sun. There's quite a few gems around, working and building, many conversing with each other. There's a couple humans intermingled with them as well. The general atmosphere is pretty lovely here. You like it.

A Rose Quartz bumps into you on the sidewalk and your bag flies off your shoulder, spilling the contents onto the ground.

"Ah! I'm so sorry!" She spins around, arms out to make sure she didn't shove you off of the sidewalk as well. "I'm just so clumsy." She says, pushing her long pink hair over her shoulder and grabbing for your things on the ground before you can even think to scoop them up yourself.

"It's okay, I wasn't exactly paying attention either." You reply, grabbing the papers that flew out of your bag and onto the street. Thankfully, nothing's damaged. She hands you your stuff, and you place it back into your bag. "Thanks."

"It was mostly my fault anyway." She grins lazily, and you watch her eyes wander around the area of your face where you have that scar. "Hmm, I feel like I've seen your face around here before. You hang out with Steven?"

"You could say that." You smile back at her and shoulder your bag. She's got this way about her that makes you think she's analyzing you, but not out of judgement. "Why?"

"No reason! I'll see you around, cutie." She says with a sly grin and a wink, and you're standing there feeling completely taken aback. Your face heats up a little in embarrassment. That was.. okay. Whatever the hell that was.

You keep walking, mind wandering as you try to figure out what the hell that gem's deal was.

You manage to spot Bismuth near a building with more scaffolding than anything else, and she's huddled with Peridot, Lapis, a couple quartz, and Spinel. You won't lie to yourself when your heart does a little summersault in your chest when you spot her magenta twintails.

They're talking loudly and animatedly about something you can't manage to hear from this distance, and you don't bother to get any closer. You duck into the entryway of a nearby building less than a hundred feet in distance from them just to linger for a moment.

One of the Quartz says something, and they all erupt into laughter, and your eyes are trained on no one but Spinel. There’s something about watching her like this that makes your heart swell, and you feel a bit ridiculous over it. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you tear your eyes away to check it.

It's a message from Steven.

[17:37] Steven: can I ask you for a favor? It's not work related.

[17:37] Steven: Connie's parents invited me to dinner

[17:37] Steven: hELP

You stare at your phone, feeling your face break out into a grin. Someone tries to get into the shop you're standing in front of, so you side step to move out of the way momentarily.

[17:38] Y/N: Haha oh buddy.

You look up after sending the message just to make sure you're in no one's way, and you happen to see Spinel just as she's turning her head in your direction, aaaaaand she's spotted you.

Her face brightens up immediately.

She says something to the others, and most of them turn their faces to peer at you. Your face heats up, and one of them cracks some kind of joke that makes half the others howl in laughter as one of the Quartz slaps Spinel's back in jest.

What the fuck are they saying?!

She manages to disengage herself, waving a couple loud goodbyes as the others let her go. It sounds like they make another joke at her expense, they all laugh as she runs to catch up to where you're waiting for her.

She groans as she reaches you, bringing her gloved hand up to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun.

"What the hell did you say to them?!" Is what comes out of your mouth instead of a greeting. You glare at the others, and you can’t tell if they can see your expressions, but they sure are howling with laughter.

"Well hello to you too," She replies, cheekily scratching the back of her head. “And I didn't say a word! They just.. kinda figured it out?” She says sheepishly, cheeks coloring a bit. “Guess I talk about 'ya a lot, eheheh..”

Oh my god, ugh. You think you're going to have a heart attack, probably. She's looking at you like she’s holding back a lot of affection. Probably for your sake?

One of them catcalls at the two of you, and you hear another whistling. You feel your eye twitching, but the smile doesn't leave your face.

"No, really, what'd you tell them?"

"That you're my girlfriend, you idiot, because they basically knew that already." She retorts with a roll of her eyes. She grabs your hand, and you feel your face heat up even more. "Let's get 'outta here already."

Well. That answers all your insecurities.

You look forward to the next upcoming days.

#spinel x reader #spinel #su #steven universe #spinel steven universe #home #my fic #thanks for the wait

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be11atrixthestrange · 4 years ago

Text

Waking Up In Vegas: Chapter 1

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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Chapter 1

[Ron]

Ron wakes up to the strong desert sunlight assaulting his eyelids and turns onto his stomach to bury his face into his pillow. The bed is so warm and comfortable, the satin sheets enveloping him into a nourishing hug. The pillow has somehow maintained its shape and is just the right combination of cold and cozy. His back feels fine, which very much exceeds his expectations, based on how his back usually feels when he wakes up. Maybe an expensive mattress is just what he needs.

Soon enough, his real-life anxieties start to surface. How much does this mattress cost, anyway? What about these sheets? How much extra did this room charge for the scented pillows? Am I even paying for it?

He tentatively opens his eyes, zeroing in on a tray that lies on the floor by his bed. It's adorned with discarded chocolate-covered strawberries, two empty champagne flutes, and a bottle of whipped cream. He never eats whipped cream.

Did I have a girl over last night?

Ron sucks in a breath and freezes in his satin sheets. Gingerly, he turns his head to the other side of the bed, catching a whiff of the pillows he thought were scented before.

Perfume, you idiot.

He lifts his gaze over the mountain of fluffy blankets and high-thread-count sheets, half expecting to see wispy blonde hair glossing the pillow and a hot-pink nightgown that doesn't entirely cover her familiar set of curves. Maybe there would even be lipstick streaked across the pillows. Bloody hell, perhaps he was covered in lipstick, too. Do they charge extra to clean up shit like that? He wouldn't know; he doesn't stay in hotels often.

Honestly, he may have been relieved if Lavender was beside him. They dated for years, and he knows her well. Ever since they broke up, she's been not-so-subtly trying to get him back in bed. She likes having sex with him, and quite frankly, he likes it too. At this point, he knows her body well. She's difficult to disappoint.

On the other hand, she may have mistaken him sleeping with her for regret about ending things, and he has no desire to set the record straight again. Las Vegas is already far enough out of his comfort zone, so Ron will do what it takes to avoid any conflict on this trip.

However, he doesn't have to worry about that because when he peers over the blankets, the girl sleeping beside him is not Lavender Brown.

Instead of a hot-pink nightgown, she's wearing a black pair of mens' boxers and a bright orange Chudley Cannons T-Shirt, with the words "World's Best Coach" emblazoned across the back. He loves that shirt. It was a gift from the youth football team he's coached for years, and he never even let Lavender wear it. Not that she ever asked to, but that's beside the point.

Who the fuck is she?

Still, her head is buried under her pillows, effectively masking her identity. He reaches toward the pillows and gently lifts them to reveal her face, or more accurately, her hair. There's so much goddamn hair. It looks like someone has loaded a t-shirt cannon with curly brown hair and unleashed it onto the pillow beside him.

No. It can't be...

He wonders how he survived the night unstrangled when his companion's hair moves on its own accord like the limbs of a sentient and unpredictable willow tree. Is it as easy to anger as its owner? It begs the question — how the hell has he managed to wake up next to Hermione Jean Granger, his sister's nightmare of a Maid of Honor?

Swiftly but smoothly, he removes his blankets and rises to his feet, only to discover that he's completely starkers. He grabs the first thing he can find — a towel — and wraps it around his hips while he searches the floor for something to wear. Luckily, he's in his hotel room, and his suitcase is wide open on the floor. He exhales a sigh of relief and collapses next to it, pulling garments out one by one. He lands on a pair of inside-out khaki shorts and red short-sleeve button-down, one of his favorite shirts that Lavender would never let him wear. She always said it clashed with his hair.

When he turns the shorts right, a piece of paper floats to the ground. It must have been folded up into his pocket. Out of curiosity, he picks it up and unravels it. He has to read it twice before realization kicks in, and his jaw drops to the floor. His hand is suddenly shaky, but not enough to obscure the words 'Marriage Certificate' across the top.

It's even signed and dated. Ron B. Weasley. Hermione J. Granger. Fuck. This had to be some sort of a practical joke.

He looks back to the bed, and he can't ignore the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. Hermione's head is still buried under the pillows, the Chudley Cannons Tee rising and falling rhythmically with her breath. Suddenly, he's extremely nervous. She'll wake up soon, and what will happen when she sees him?

She'll probably be pretty upset. Unlike Lavender, she seems easy to disappoint.

Bloody hell.

One week earlier…

"I'm Hermione Granger."

She extends a hand to Ron, who reluctantly shakes it. Firm handshake.

"And you are?"

"I'm Ron." She raises her eyebrows. "Ron Weasley? The bride's brother? The groom's best friend?" He tries not to be offended when she removes her hand and wipes it on her trousers. "You honestly don't know me?"

"I figured," she shrugs. "But most people introduce themselves without assuming others know who they are."

Her unfiltered judgment catches him off guard. It strikes a nerve, and he can't help but wonder why Ginny has selected her as her Maid of Honor.

His instinct is to snap right back, but he fights it. He is about to embark on a ten-day international trip to celebrate his sister's wedding, and as the Best Man, he'll be working closely with Hermione and the other bridesmaids, one of them being his ex-girlfriend. It is going to be rough already.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Hermione Granger," he says as cheerfully as he can muster. He'll just have to get through this trip, and he'll never have to see her again.

Her reply is annoyingly curt. "Thanks." She takes a seat and motions for him to do the same. The gesture is subtle, but it keeps him on edge. He doesn't need permission to sit down. He's tempted to keep standing simply out of spite, but on the other hand, he would like to avoid a power struggle.

He shakes his head as if doing so would reset this terrible first impression. He wants to like her — she's one of Ginny's best friends — but he already feels himself building a wall.

She waves down a server, and Ron squirms at how impatient she seems. What's her rush? The server grumbles when he approaches, and Ron tries to send an apologetic glance his way. "I'll have an iced coffee."

The server nods, then glances expectantly at Ron. "Oh erm... same, I guess.".

"No straws," adds Hermione.

"Noted," quips the server.

"Actually," says Ron, "I would like a straw."

"Straws are awful for the environment," she says when the server's out of earshot. "You don't really need them."

Ron fights the urge to roll his eyes. He's determined to keep it cool, so he takes a steadying breath and changes the subject. "We should compare itineraries for the bride and groom."

"Yes, I agree. In fact, I have put together a tentative plan for the joint stag and hen party." She slides a piece of paper across the table to him. The level of detail is horrendous. It's also laminated. She's organized, that's for sure.

"Hold on," he says. "A joint stag and hen party?"

"Yes, it's more efficient this way. You can see on page four, I've already made reservations at a hotel on The Strip, and for pretty much everything, bigger parties mean bigger discounts."

Ron's heart sinks. He has been planning a surprise stag party for Harry, and he was pretty excited about it. Harry wouldn't go for this. There's no way.

"Hermione, I think the boys would prefer a separate party." Ron was also looking forward to a night out with just the boys — Harry, Neville, Dean, and Seamus. It would be a very different experience if the girls were there too. Well, Ginny, Luna, and Demelza would be fun. Lavender? Hermione? No thanks.

"I've already spoken to Harry, and he loves the idea."

Ron straightens up and stares back at her, for a moment forgetting to mask his hurt. "He… what?"

"Yeah, he already agreed to it."

Their conversation pauses as the waiter returns to deliver their iced coffee. Hermione scowls at Ron and rolls her eyes as he takes a long drag from his plastic straw. Maybe he should ask for a second one just to tick her off some more.

Keep it cool, Ron.

Hermione's expression softens. "I know it must be awkward for you to spend so much time with your ex-girlfriend. Ginny told me about the breakup. She wasn't expecting you two to split before the wedding,"

Unfortunately, the Lavender thing contributes to his resistance to a joint party, but he hates that she can sense that. He hates that Ginny told her about his breakup.

"Look," says Hermione, leaning closer.

He's skeptical of what she might say, but it seems like she's genuinely trying to be caring, so he leans in to listen.

"It'll be hard, but we can't let our personal issues affect this. This wedding is about Harry and Ginny. No one else."

Ron sinks dejectedly back into his chair, immediately regretting giving her the benefit of the doubt. Our personal issues. "What are you saying?"

"I'm asking that we don't bring any unnecessary drama along. Leave it here, and focus on the bride and groom."

"We?"

She nods. "Yes, we. I will also leave my issues at home." She really is infuriating. He's going to have a chat with his sister about her choice of best friend.

"So no drama at the wedding. None." He takes another swig of his drink, raising his eyebrows at her. She scowls again at the straw.

"No drama."

"Deal." He reaches out a hand, and she takes it. Another firm handshake.

Then, something on his face catches her eye. "You've got something on your nose."

He releases her hand and rubs his nose.

She shrugs. "Must have been dirt."

He forces his lips into a smile and wonders if it looks as fake as the one she returns.

What a nightmare.

He's pulled out of his reverie by an abrupt jerking of limbs from the bed. Hermione's rhythmic breathing turns into a groan when she tugs the pillow off of her head. She slaps a hand over her eyes when the sunlight hits them, and she groans again, angrily this time. Any illusions of peacefulness are a far distant memory.

When she finally opens her eyes, it's her look of horror that alerts Ron to the fact that he never put on his khaki shorts and a red shirt. He's still hovering next to her bed in a towel, staring at her. He's suddenly very aware of how pale and freckly he is.

"Why are you—?" Eyes wide, she rises to a seat in bed, her hair billowing in every possible direction. She looks down at her body and pinches his Cannons shirt with her fingers like it's a dirty napkin. "Why am I wearing this?" She glances back at Ron and scowls. "Why am I here?"

Ron opens his mouth to answer, but he is unprepared to fill her in. Like her, he has not yet processed this. Before he can explain, the towel starts to unravel from his hips. He motions to catch it, but his right hand is clutching his clothes, and his left hand is clutching a goddamn marriage certificate, so the towel unwinds and lands in a pile on the floor. When Hermione's eye line lowers, her cheeks blush. Ron can't tell if she's embarrassed, angry, or impressed, but he hopes for a combination of the three.

"Morning!" He grins goofily, emulating the falsely excited tone he's become so accustomed to using around her.

It brings her gaze back to his eyes. "Ronald Weasley. What the hell is going on?"

#ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #muggle au #waking up in vegas #hp fanfiction #hpromione #romionecom

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chubbyheroesworthyheroes · 4 years ago

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Raphael + 🐮 please.

Training to become a knight was hard work, and working hard was something Raphael was used to -- and he enjoyed it more often than not! Working with his hands was something he found relaxing, and physical labor only helped him to put on more muscle, so he sure wasn’t going to complain. No, that part of the training was simple enough for him to get on with, it was all the books and strategies that stalled him and made everything difficult.

Raphael knew he wasn’t the smartest guy around, but what he lacked in book smarts, he did his best to make up for in determination.

He really did try to listen to lectures and all that stuff. He read what was marked down for the week. He’d even go over things several times just to try and get it to stick in his head, but when it came down to it, it almost felt like it went in one ear and out the other. It was a little disheartening, but whenever Raphael felt himself hitting a low with studies, that’s when he knew it was time to hit the markets and look for a little project to get his mind off it!

Whenever he had the spare time, Raphael would go down to the market just outside of Garreg Mach. It was always bustling and busy, full of merchants and trademasters hawking their wares or skills. He tended to go and look for anything that was busted up and discounted, or something that people just wanted to get rid of. Fixing things up was a joy to him, and the merchants usually cut him a deal when they came back and he presented them with a refurbished item.

This time around, Raphael was returning a fixed up chest to a man from the Holy Kingdom. It was in pretty bad shape when he found it the previous week, but a lot of hard work and elbow grease had it looking practically like new!

“Wow, you really have a talent for this!” the merchant praised, inspecting the chest for any glaring flaws. He’d been hauling that damn thing around for a while and hadn’t managed to unload it on anyone, but this knight-in-training had fixed it up in a week’s time and had it looking mighty fine indeed!

Raphael laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Aw, it was nothing! It was a real pleasure to work on.”

The merchant smiled, but there was a deviousness to it that the large blond completely missed as he blabbered on about how he’d worked on the chest. Really, if the young man was this happy to do work for very little return, then there was another item that the merchant would be happy to dump on him.

“Well, I really appreciate your hard work, my boy! I’m afraid I can’t give you much, but I do have a rather unique item I could give you for your troubles,” the man waxed on, standing up from where he’d been looking over the chest to go root around in his stall. It was an incredibly plain item -- an old nose ring for cattle -- but the blasted thing was cursed. Every person that had been its owner had either mysteriously disappeared, leaving only the ring behind, or they were some poor fool who couldn’t get rid of it no matter how little they asked for it. The merchant fell into the latter category, as he’d happened to win it off some near-broke drunk in a game of cards. But, he’d been stuck with it for years without being able to find a buyer, so he wasn’t going to let this chance slip by without trying to dump it off on this sucker.

Finding the small pouch he’d kept it in for years, the man returned to Raphael, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re training to become a knight, right? Well, this little thing might not look like anything special, but it’ll make you strong as a bull! Could really help with your trainin’, yeah?” he trots out his impromptu spiel, pushing the leather pouch into the blond’s big hands.

Raphael beams at the gift, accepting the pouch gladly -- and passing off the item’s dubious energy onto himself by doing so.

“Wow, really?! Thanks! I can’t wait to get to trying this thing out!”

It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his room that Raphael even bothered to take a look at what he’d been given for his work, and as confused as he was when the cattle ring plopped out of the pouch into his hand when he opened it up, he wasn’t the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth. If all he had to do was clip the ring on when he was training to get the benefits of it, then he’d do it -- after all, being as strong as a bull sounded exactly like something he wanted!

It didn’t even hurt when he put it on, as he sort of thought it would, but it almost felt like there wasn’t anything there. Now, all he had to do was try it out and see how much stronger he was going to get! As he was leaving his room for the training grounds, Raphael was stopped in his tracks by his stomach cramping up with intense hunger, like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Ugh, guess the tank needs some proper fuel before I go buildin’ up more muscles with any training…,” Raphael groaned to himself, a hand on his growling middle, as he made a beeline for the dining hall. It wasn’t unusual for him to eat before a training session -- and then after, as well -- he had eaten not too long ago, so it was a little out of the ordinary. But, brushing it off as nothing more than his abundant appetite wanting to fuel up for a good round of training, Raphael didn’t concern himself any further with it besides thinking of what he’d order.

The hunger only seemed to get worse, so by the time it was his turn in line, he was so desperate for food that Raphael simply asked for one of everything that the kitchens had available that day. The staff gave him an irritated look at his extensive order, but they knew him quite well since he’d started at the academy, so they just got on with it in order to move the line along as smoothly as possible. It takes far too many of the kitchen workers to bring all of his dishes out, even with Raphael taking on a good amount of them, but it was all worth the hassle when he finally got to chow down.

Plates and bowls of food were demolished in record time. Raphael was all about getting as much food in his mouth as fast as possible, so table manners didn’t slow him down any. He scarfed every morsel down rather messily, but nothing went to waste as he even licked the plates clean in his feeding frenzy.

If he weren’t so distracted with satisfying the burning hunger in his middle, he might have noticed that his tongue seemed broader as it lapped up sauces and crumbs from dishes. A slight irritation at his temples and tailbone was likewise ignored in favor of filling up his stomach, the small areas affected itching like mad all of a sudden. Faint but slowly growing more prominent were splotches of black and white on his skin, becoming visible almost like freckles popping up from being out in the sun.

With a hearty sigh, Raphael slapped a meaty hand against the bloated curve of his middle; hunger finally satisfied from the veritable feast he’d just ingested. With an eagerness that most didn’t usually have after eating so much, he cleared all of his dishes from the spot he’d claimed at one of the tables and dashed right off to the training grounds. He was just too excited to wait any longer to see how this thing was going to boost his training!

He idly scratched at his head as he made his way over, oblivious to the bony protrusions that looked an awful lot like nubby horns that seemed to be growing at his temples. The splotchy spots on his body were only growing darker, while the other areas of his skin seemed to be going in the opposite direction and turning completely white.

Raphael went about his usual routine; even with an overfull stomach, he felt energized, and so went through his paces harder than normal once he got through everything so easily the first time around.

“Man, this thing really does work!” Raphael beamed to himself, grunting as he brought his hammer down with all his strength on one of the dummies set up in the yard. It collapsed under the heavy pressure like it had nothing but hope and a prayer holding it up, the head of the hammer sinking into the packed dirt several inches. As he goes to pull the weapon out of the ground, he grunts when the already strained buttons of his shirt suddenly seem to give up completely, bursting off his shirt in a succession of dull pings. Now, being such a large guy, Raphael wasn’t entirely unused to this sort of thing happening, but it was strange for it to be coupled with the uncomfortable sensation of his pants being entirely too tight on him at the same time.

“Huh...Th-That’s weird…,” he mumbled in confusion, a hand coming up to inspect the loose threads now left dangling from his open shirt. He’d popped one or two off before at the same time, but all of them?

His eyes are drawn down, however, when the fabric of his shirt rubs up against his nipples, and the feeling makes him groan in the most embarrassing of ways. Raphael brings a hand up to his chest, calloused fingers hesitantly running over the area -- surprised to find his pecs were...squishy, and not firm with bulging muscle as they had been just earlier that day. As he’s squeezing his budding moobs, which he can feel filling up more and more of his hand as he does so, warm liquid suddenly squirts onto his palm. He pulls his hand back to look at the small puddle wetting his palm, and quickly realizes that it was milk.

But...he couldn’t…

A sharp, sudden tearing sound distracts Raphael, hands flying to the seat of his trousers to feel the large rip in the material. Cheeks blazing red, he tries to find a good place to hide, but it’s suddenly become incredibly difficult to move around with his pants so damn tight. His ass just seems to get bigger the more he struggles; the two, fat orbs fighting for space until they tear through what was left of the material trying to keep them in check -- a growing, black and white cow’s tail swinging lazily above the flabby globes. His thighs are also ballooning up, destroying the sad remains of his trousers as they grow fatter. It’s a weird relief and rush of further embarrassment, but everything feels like it’s getting slower as weight keeps piling onto his frame.

His moobs never stopped in their growth despite Raphael’s attention shifting elsewhere, squishy titflesh blowing up and out, getting heavier and heavier as they filled up with creamy milk. It was getting so heavy and distracting that Raphael groaned in desperation -- really, it sounded more like a moo -- at the immensely building pressure in his chest, plopping down on his fat ass as he mindlessly gropes at the overflowing boobs that his bulky pecs have transformed into. Thick, creamy milk sprays out from his teats, coating his black and white stomach in the warm liquid as he lows deeply, eyes almost rolling back in his head at the pleasure it brings.

While it hadn’t kept up with the same growth of his chest or ass, Raphael’s stomach has still lost any hints of its once muscular form. It’s bloated up, round and firm, but tucked neatly underneath his quite astounding man jugs.

It doesn’t take long for someone else to hear his raucous mooing and discover his bloated, bovine self stuck in the training area. Well, he wouldn’t be training to be a knight anymore, but the academy would happily pay for the high quality milk Raphael produced...

#Anonymous #fat!raphael #male weight gain #male wg #cow transformation #cow tf #this took forever & i apologize!!!#i'm hoping to get my groove back...

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championofsanghelios · 4 years ago

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Personal AU Story - “Home”

A little story from my Sidlink archives. Again this one is set in an AU. There will be some TL:DR and notes at the end, so scroll down if you wanna understand what's going on here.

This was written by me, remember...so expect the usual errors, typos and word bugs (bzz.)

|HOME|

It was one of those rare moments where Link could be at peace. He couldn't actively recall the last time he'd been able to relax and let loose, which said a great deal for his lifestyle. Having the entirety of Time itself under ones charge tended to be a little taxing on occasion.

Whenever he had moments like this he'd come back here, to the Zora's Domain, a place he called home, a place he truly felt safe enough in to relax. Somewhere he could just be himself, no Inheritor, no grandeur, no nothing. One of his favorite things to do upon returning and catching up with everyone there was to take a swim in the thermal baths in the guards barracks. These pools were unique in that their inflow systems directly connected to the Domain's heat springs, sourced from Mount Lanayru, a network of channels that ran across the entire region, heated by the very molten innards of Solae itself.

This allowed for the installment of a vent regulator system, a small valve on the end of the pool which allow whoever was using it to adjust the heat levels from freezing cold to considerably hot. Link's personal preference was cold initially, with the gradual increase of temperature as he swam, relinquishing himself of any pent-up energy that remained in his bones.

By the end of it, he was usually exhausted to enough to retire to his room and collapse into his bed, which after the recent period away from it all, was a prospect he found too tempting to pass up on.

However as he's preparing to haul himself out of the waters and dry off, he's interrupted by the sound of the barracks door in the other room opening up. He doesn't bat an eye-lid to this, it was probably one of the Guards returning from their assigned post, or a shift-change in progress...usual business.

Which means it's no surprise...that he's surprised...when a familiar voice calls to him from the rooms entrance. So startles him does it that he lets out a near squeal, leaping up from where he is sitting and clambering to fetch the Master Sword which is laying among his personal effects.

All it takes is one glance however to realize who it is and that he really shouldn't be afraid at all. Sidon filled the opening in the door, wearing his full royal regalia, minus his crown, which according to him was "a dreadful thing, all spiky and weighted." It also had a habit of giving him headaches, something which in Zora was more pronounced and extreme than in their Hylian counterparts...something about their brains being wired differently

The King let's out a hearty laugh at the look he receives, which is one of both relief and irritation. "That has to be the best one I've heard come out of you yet."

Pushing himself away from the door frame, he walks over to him, taking in his form and scent with a deep breath through his gills. "I see you've taken a liking to this place..."

"I like the thermal regulation." Link says, placing the Master Sword down next to his armor, which had been dumped rather hap-hazard on the floor near the wall. "Loosens up the limbs...and the core."

His hand runs over his abdomen as he speaks, something that Sidon can't help but observe as well. "You've gotten thinner."

"I've always been thin." Link sighs, looking down at himself. The only thing he was wearing were his shorts, those old, but very durable shorts that clung to him tightly. "Part of the problem with having your processes time-locked is that it's difficult to put on any real weight...or bulk up or anything like that."

He looks up at the King, pointing at him. "I sometimes wish I could have muscular structure like you do...but it's far from the realms of possibility."

"Then just remove the time-lock." Sidon says, stepping closer to him, his large hand coming to rest on his arm, it left arm, it was a subconscious movement, they'd not seen each other in quite some time...it had been a couple of months for him, but Usurper knows how long it had been for Link.

He never showed any signs of age, or wear...even if it was blatantly obvious. Link was able to integrate right back into the world like he was gone. At first this was a confusing and at times infuriating quirk about their relationship...particularly for Sidon who needed him around, despite always insisting that he could come and go as he pleased...so long as he stayed alive. It was a mutual agreement.

Link would head out for a while, do his job as the Inheritor, then return to the Domain for a few weeks and just...be himself. No worries, No stresses, No nothing. It was an arrangement that, so far, worked and Sidon looked forwards to their time together increasingly each time.

Link also needed Sidon too. Life as a Time traveler was a hectic and at times hard existence. So the option of coming back to something stable, and normal was a real help. Sidon didn't know it, but Link looked forwards to these moments just as much as he did, if not more...they restored normalcy to his life and added contrast. Nothing was more relieving and cathartic than saving all of creation for the billionth time only to head home and crawl into the arms of his King, his worrisome, adorkable fish husband. It was what he lived to do.

Which is precisely why after a moments silence, the Inheritor closes the gap between them and practically jumps into his arms, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him as best he can, despite their size difference.

"Oh I've missed you..." Link says into his chest, he would have fallen asleep here if he wanted too, but he needed to get his stuff over to his room before he did that. "...you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this."

"Me too." Sidon beams, holding onto him as if he would drop to the ground when he let go. "It's been a quiet old place without you around...most boring."

"I think I might stick around a little longer this time." Link glances up at him. "And I really mean it...I-...well I need a break."

"Give it 2 weeks, you'll be practically clawing at the walls." Sidon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Stay as long as you wish, husband...it's your choice."

SOME TIME LATER

"...and that's not discounting the Lynel ambush we had in the forests of the Central Plains." Prince Akau says with a sigh, taking a drink from his goblet. "If it hadn't been for Emmet and his quick thinking, we'd all be dead."

"You boys took on 3 Lynel?" Link raises an eyebrow across the dinner-table, currently the middle of eating a bowl of something he couldn't pronounce the name of properly, only that it was amazing and he could eat it forever. He glances at Sidon who is at the head of the table, listening intently and nursing a full belly of steamed salmon. "Seriously?"

"Yes, he has the scars on his chest to show for it." the King nods. "He left a boy and came back a man."

"Says you." Akau snorts, placing his goblet down and sitting forwards. "I still don't believe there could have been an Oktoroc that big..."

"One of these days I'll have your father take you back to that day and show you in person." Sidon let's out a quiet belch, covering his mouth with his left hand as to hide it some. "You wouldn't be so incredulous then would you?"

"We've already been back there twice." Link shakes his head. "It's unlikely I could even find us a good vantage point."

"It's amazing." Sidon can't help but smile at his current thought. "I was fighting that thing to the death, completely oblivious that my future husband and myself were watching from a distance and loving every second of it...twice might I add."

He looks at Link fondly. "To think it was you...of all the people I met."

"Ghirahim once told me that people who are destined or fated to meet, shall." Link finishes the contents of his bowl, dropping the silver spoon into it and sitting back on his chair. "I guess you could call it a matter of fate, huh?"

"The best kind of fate there is..." Sidon says, his eyes flitting over him for a second. "I can't imagine knowing you and not falling in love with you."

"I once visited a timeline where you were never born..." Link shrugs. "It was just Mipha and your Father...it just felt off, really off."

"I hope to one day travel time." Akau says across from him. "I wonder what it's like."

"It's great." Link smiles, genuinely, warmly. "It's so...wonderful and exciting..."

His smile fades however as the reality hits him. "...but it's also a terrible burden...a responsibility that if abused, could spell disaster for everyone and everything that has ever lived."

"Will I be your Inheritor?" Akau asks next, something that seems to grab the attention of the King who looked like he was about to doze off. "Will I claim that blade when you are gone?"

"I don't know..." Link shakes his head, he was being truthful when he said that. There was no way of telling who would come after him. If it would be Akau, or anyone. It wasn't his place to know. "The Sword doesn't have the final say anymore thanks to 'Dorf...I guess we'll see when I die."

"That's unlikely to happen anytime soon." Sidon shuffles on his chair.

"You never know." Link looks his way. "I could die tomorrow."

"No." Sidon shakes his head quickly. "You're not going to die before me..."

"Me too." Akau adds. "It's unlikely I'll ever see that Sword in my hand..."

"Really?" Link suddenly stands up, walking across the room to the door, which he'd left the Sword of Time sitting by, along with the Master Sword. He picks it up in it's scabbard and paces over to where he's sitting.

Turning it in his hands, he holds it out for him to take. "Let's see if it would accept you then."

"Seriously?" Akau glances at the blade, then to the King who nods his head encouragingly. Taking the scabbard from Link he places his hand around the hilt and pulls the blade out fast. It was light in his hand and seemed to resonate with his touch. "Whoa...it's lighter than it looks."

"No." Link shakes his head. "It's not light at all...it's just light for you."

"For me?" Akau looks along the length of the blade. He'd seen his Father using it before, creating portals that led to Usurper knows where, and he'd always wondered how it worked, how it charged up and what use it had outside of time-travel. "What do you mean?"

"It sees you as an ally." Link explains, gesturing to blade. "It recognizes my blood within you...and it accepts you as one of it's wielders. Just like it does Sidon, Ganondorf, Zelda...and others."

"But not it's Master...right?" Sidon asks, a knowing smile on his face. "It doesn't recognize anyone as it's Master but-"

Akau gasps as Link raises his hand, the Sword of Time flies out of his hand and he catches it by the hilt mid-way. "Good Goddess above."

"No." Link does the same with the scabbard, to Akau's increasing wonder and amusement. He slots the blade back into it's scabbard before tossing it over his shoulder onto his back. "That title is reserved for I, and I alone."

It had been too long since Link felt like this. Since he could just let go and come apart without any feeling of guilt or burden. Many of the people he'd met in his travels had commented about his inability to relax, or indulge in himself, in his own desires and needs...and they had a point...he really did find it hard, namely because he believed his job came first. He was their protector, their guardian, their servant. What he wanted and needed wasn't important when time and history itself was at stake...

...this was one of the many reasons why he looked so much forward to coming home, to spending time at the Domain with his family and his friends. He had a chance to stop playing the role of the hero, the role of the ancient traveler who stopped horrible events from claiming everything, and just be...Link.

Sidon was one of his biggest comforts. He'd always been like this, from the moment they met on that bridge so long ago to right now in this very moment. Gentle, Tender...and oh so soft.

Despite popular belief about Zora scales, Sidon wasn't nearly as tough and "sharp" as many would claim him to be. If anything he was much softer, smoother, and oh so warm. Sure he was "a fish" but he was warm-blooded, and that made snuggling such a delight.

It was a strange juxtaposition. Often it felt to Link like he was holding onto the world and everything in it, hugging it close and keeping everyone who inhabited it comforted and reassured. Telling them it would be okay, even when he wasn't sure if it would be...telling them that time moved on and losses, though not forgotten, got easier and wounds healed.

But here he was, in the worlds arms. Sidon was one of the most important things in his life, he was his world...and there weren't enough words in the common vernacular to describe just how much he adored him. He often got misty eyed just thinking about how much he cherished him, and felt cherished in return whenever he came home.

Sidon was like a love-sponge. He'd soak up all of his affection and pent-up need and become all water-logged and dredged. Only to need one squeeze, or in Link's case a cuddle, for everything to come flooding back out, but ten-fold.

He wasn't aware of what brought them together, but whatever it was, be it fate, divine intervention, coincidence or just luck, something Link rarely believed in, there was no denying that Sidon was the best thing that ever happened to him. He found a companion in him, a friend, a confidant, a lover and later...a husband and King in...he was perfect.

"...I like this." Sidon says after a long silence. "I love these moments. You and me, and the stars."

He says this as he looks out of the Kings suite onto the mountain landscapes that encompass the entire Domain. In his previous room, now Akau's, he hadn't been able to see the skies, but up here in what was originally his Father's suite, everything could be seen.

Link was laying atop him, mainly across his chest, with his head resting in the crook of his neck. This is often how their nights of reunion and love-making ended, with the two of them just laying in the water...sleeping off their exhaustion.

At some point Link would be moved, as almost every time he would awaken the next morning, he'd be in the bed just across the room. Sidon always took care of him, and preferred to tuck him where he would be warm, rather than let him catch a chill in the pool. Not that he could given just how warm they were right now.

"You said you were going to stay a little longer this time..." Sidon comments, reaching up, his large hand running through the Inheritor's hair. "Is there any particular reason why?"

"No..." Link replies, or moreover drones into his neck. He turns his head slightly opening his eyes and looking out over the balconies ahead at the starry sky above the mountains. "I just think I should stick around longer..."

"You think?" Sidon asks next, his hand slipping down to his back.

"Sometimes you just need to stop running, you know?" Link says, taking in a deep breath which turns to a yawn half-way. "...I think now would be a good time for that...I want to do it...I...I need to do it."

"It would be nice to have you back...as I've said." the King smiles at the thought, with Link around more he'd be able to involve him more in the day to day running of the Domain. "But you don't have to be bound here. It's your choice."

"No..." Link shifts a little, looking up at him. "I mean it. I want to stick around some more. Spend time with you, Akau and...everyone else."

"Okay..." Sidon's smile widens to a grin. "I'd like that, Link."

"Yeah..." Link lowers his head, kissing him on the neck. "...me too."

...

TL:DR

LINK WANTS TO TAKE A BREAK FROM BEING INHERITOR TO SPEND MORE TIME WITH HIS FAMILY BACK AT THE DOMAIN. SIDON IS VERY HAPPY ABOUT THIS, AKAU TOO.

NOTES AND OTHER STUFF

This story takes place some centuries after the birth of Prince Akau, Sidon and Link's Son, who has now, much like his Father before him, embraced and taken on the role of Crown Prince.

In this story, Sidon has been King of Zorana for a while, and he and Link are married. This takes place after a major incident in my personal story-arc called "the Resurrection". (Perhaps I'll explain later, for now just know that time has passed and things are slightly different now.)

The Sword of Time, I've mentioned this before. But to give you a basic run down of it. It's a blade that was once weilded by the Hero of Time. When Link became his Inheritor, he was given the blade, along with the responsibilities of keeping the timelines of Solae safe and protected.

Solae is the name of the world that the events of the Legend of Zelda take place on. This not an official canon, just one I made up for my own world. It gives a name to the place they inhabit, and opens the way for other worlds and such.

(Side Note: I have a map of the entire land-mass of Solae, including the Kingdoms of Hyrule, Termina, Ardenfall and others. I'll see about posting it at a later date.)

Link and Sidon HAVE DEFINITELY traveled through time in the past. I like to think they have done this several times, namely for romantic purposes.

Akau MAY or MAY NOT be Link's successor as the Inheritor of Time. It all depends on where the story goes. I've not actually written that far yet.

There's a mention of the Sword Demon Ghirahim in there at one point. He plays a key-part in my AU versions of the Linked Universe characters. (Again, I'll get to that another time.)

#sidlink #legend of zelda #botw au #prince sidon #link and sidon are married in the future #prince akau (oc)#references to other characters and ocs #family #link is a time travelling elf-boi

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lucastheunlucky · 4 years ago

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sweet treat | rio+luke

Date: Prior to the full moon, week of 6/1/20 Location: Coffee Plus Summary: The two bois have a conversation over muffins and drinks. They both carry many scars that hold great pain and the two seem to understand they are a little broken, but they find great relief in that they can speak freely without judgement between them. @3starsquinn

Luke hadn’t been in the coffee shop in a long fucking while. The smell almost made his mouth salivate. There was something truly delicious and unique about coffee shop scents, almost like the bakery or his pizza shop. He waved towards Rio with his good arm, and greeted the other with an easy smile for looking exhausted. “Listen, I’m so excited for this drink. I need the energy,” he huffed a laugh, “you really going to order a hot chocolate? I love it. Let’s get some carbs too.”

If nothing else, Orion was just happy that Lucas was safe. Ever since the two had spoken, Rio couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had known about Lucas from the moment that he had met him. He was cursed with that knowledge, in a lot of ways. He never wanted that ability, never wanted that awful intrusion into someone’s personal life. The same ability that people like his parent’s and other hunters used to get a one-up on people like Lucas and try to kill them. The thought, the fear that this could have been done by his parents, made Rio sick to his stomach. But Lucas had been adamant that he wanted to worry about something else. Rio couldn’t blame him, so instead he would entertain it. Let them meet for food. Maybe discuss what Rio had accidentally texted him like some idiot. “Yeah, uh- I don’t really drink coffee.” Rio laughed nervously, rubbing at his neck and hopping in line with Lucas. “But they have really good hot chocolate here so it’s all good. So you’re looking great, all things considered. The recovery seems to be going… speedy.”

“I look okay? Good. Everyone else keeps telling me I look like shit--,” Lucas teased, and had to laugh a little. “I’m sleeping half the day away and eating the rest, but the time off and doing that cycle with some physical therapy has helped immensely. I’ll be in the shop this week. Back to business so long as I can make sure things are safe for my customers.” Luke waved lightly to the person behind the counter and ordered a sweet drink and a bagel with cream cheese, and two muffins and waited for Rio to order and moved to a table to wait. As if on cue, Luke yawned, and he rested his palm on his cheek and gave Rio a look over. “School is almost out right? Few more weeks? Are you going to be busy with summer?” He asked, trying to keep it somewhat light, even if they both knew they needed to talk about important things.

“Are you kidding?” Orion laughed incredulously. From what he had gathered from the team at the pizza place, Lucas had gone through some terrible things and been gravely injured. All because some hunter thought that he had the right to harm or kill something that was different than himself. It infuriated Rio, but more than that it terrified him. He hated that they could get away with this. He just wished that he could stop them. “Considering what you went through? You look great. I’ve looked worse after far smaller things.” Rio had gotten way better at handling pain, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t get to him. “We’re all super excited to have you back at the restaurant though!” Rio ordered a hot chocolate, undecided on if he should order any food. Nothing here would fill him up. He may jump back in line later or grab something else later on. “Classes actually wrapped up. Finals were a couple weeks ago. I’m signed up for Summer classes, but I have a little break before those start so for now things have been slightly less hectic.” He had spent most of that time obsessing over the demon visions he had been seeing, but no reason to bring that up. “I’m just happy that you’re recovering and are coming back to us soon. We can use your expertise.”

“Mhm,” Lucas didn’t like how that sounded, as if there was insinuation that there were times where Orion was hurt and hadn’t handled it well and didn’t have help. His mind toyed with seeing the scars on his arms, and Lucas’ stomach soured. There was a gentle frown on his usually grinning face, “what I’m going through is bullshit. And it’s taken me a long time to be able to see that.” He said it like he was also wanting Rio to say the same thing, as if maybe they both were being dumb softies and should have some back up. “I’m going to shut it down for a week, have it deep cleaned, do some repairs, and restock it properly. Rework the menu and get the business back end caught up so just a heads up. I’ll need all the help. I’m hiring a few more people too, I want the place packed.” He pondered more on what he wanted to say, or more how to say it. “So,” a knowing glance. “You sorta understood what happened to me, Rio?”

It took him a long time to be able to see that? Orion had no idea what Lucas was going through, but maybe their situations weren’t too different. Of course, they couldn’t be too similar. Rio didn’t discount what he had gone through, but he could still recognize that he held a certain advantage. Regardless of the pain, Rio had heightened healing and he grew up in a house where he wasn’t constantly afraid of being hunted and killed. Sure, he was afraid for plenty of other reasons, but he had some privileges as a hunter. “I get that.” Rio sighed. He didn’t know what else to say about it. Instead, he tapped her fingers nervously against his cup and tucked a stray piece of pink hair back under his ball cap. “That’s great! I mean, as long as that’s what you want to do. I’m really excited for it. Can I come in and help? While it’s closed?” He was technically hired for prepping, something that wouldn’t exactly be required if there were no customers to prep for. It wasn’t that Rio needed the money, he had way too much money right now actually, with two jobs and a roommate that refused to let him pay rent. But it didn’t matter. This entire meetup all boiled down to one thing, Rio knew that. The talk that they needed to have. “It was more of a theory, if anything.” Rio waved his hands and avoided eye contact. He couldn’t exactly tell Lucas about him being a hunter. Not after Lucas had just been attacked by one. “It’s stupid I just- I’ve seen stuff like that before. People getting attacked for no reason.”

“You can, it will probably be fun to flip everything on its head for a day,” Lucas commented about the pizzeria. It was due for a small update, it’s looked the same for seven plus years now. The main issue Luke had that was difficult to stomach, but one he was sort of forced to push forward with was his anonymity. He’s technically still missing, but the police records and hospital would have put him here to make it easy to investigate his whereabouts if someone really wanted to learn about it. At this point, he was in a rock and a hard place with it. So he was going to just see how it went. Not dart and hide, pull up his hoods, and shop at night. This was all going to start with Yum!Pizzeria, all his employees would know his name, know his face. No more hiding in the kitchen, doing everything. It was a big change. “I’m sorry you see that shit,” Lucas’ stomach once more balled up in a knot. He just wished for once some of this younger generation could live without so much damage to process. Thinking about the kids crying at the ice cream shop when those people after him shot it up. Luke’s lip snarled lightly before he took a sip of his drink. “People all have opinions on what should be done around here. At the end of it. You just have to survive.” Luke wasn’t interested in this being an interrogation, and ultimately, he was already more worried about Rio than himself. “What have you seen? Do you believe it all?”

Orion preferred to think about the restaurant over their other conversation. He wished they could have moved back to that subject instead. Talked ideas for cleaning and a new menu. Maybe discuss the plan for new employees. Instead, they were stuck in the conversation of Lucas’ attack. Or rather, why Rio knew what he did about it. Judging from the look on Lucas’ face, he seemed just as hesitant to talk about it as Rio was. “Eh. It’s life. Not a very fun part of it, but I think I’m in a better situation now.” Maybe. He had still gotten involved more than he wanted to in the town’s dangerous under dwellings. But at least he was doing it free of the obligation to kill. “Just because people have opinions doesn’t make them valid. Opinions are for coffee versus tea. Not whether or not something should die.” Rio grumbled, the thought of hunters viewing their views as a simple opinion made Rio furious. “I grew up in this town. I’ve seen way more than I could ever want to see or try to believe. It’s… most of the stuff isn’t even fathomable. But it’s there. I- It sounds like gibberish. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Rio rubbed at his temples and continued to his neck, dragging the palms of his hands across his face. He wasn’t make any sense. Trying to be indirect just wasn’t working. “Just- What I’m trying to say is I’ve grown up knowing what this town is like. I know about hunters and what they do. So when I heard about it… well I just assumed that they were involved.”

“I see,” Lucas got a little bit of an answer, and it was enough. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m not looking to make this difficult between us. I’m actually a little relieved you might get why this wasn’t some random thing. I’m sure the rumors have been weird to hear without me being able to be honest.” He said, pushing the muffin’s towards Rio as a small peace offering, and split the bagel apart. White Crest cranked out many different people, supernatural, hunters, and humans, and it wasn’t unknown to Lucas that some people here knew more than they should ever have too. Especially those who grew up here like himself too. “There is a lot out in the world,” he sighed a little, taking a decent bite of the bagel and wondered how many regular people here were affected by what went on around here. It wasn’t entirely fair to them. “My situation isn’t about life or death. Luckily? Who knows,” Lucas said, “but I wasn’t asking all this to put stress on you okay? Just, wanted you to know that I’m open to listen you about stuff too. I won’t laugh at you over it. I grew up here too. I get, that this place can be a lot on the mind.”

Orion accepted the muffin, offering a smile towards Lucas in exchange and pulling a piece from it to toss in his mouth. “That’s such crap,” Rio groaned, wishing he could phrase it better or make his words seem a bit more poetic. “You shouldn’t have to make up excuses or try to explain it away. You shouldn’t be injured at all.” Rio wasn’t an angry person by nature. He rarely ever got worked up about things and had never thrown or punched something in anger. His frustration was usually expressed through tired sighing and fidgeting. “Don’t worry about me. Being stressed is just a natural state of being for me. It’s not you.” He tried laughing to dispel the mood, plopping another muffin piece in. “I really appreciate it. The open door. I’d like that. Uh- I wish there was more that I could do to help you. I don’t like knowing that the person that did this to you is still out there.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be,” Lucas conceded, but it wasn’t ever his choice to be regardless if he should. Rio seemed to be flipping through thoughts, emotions rather quickly, and Lucas had to appreciate being young and able to handle all that. Luke has trained himself to let things go so he didn’t get overwhelmed in depression and shit, but the more people that tell him that he shouldn’t have to deal with this, he was slowly believing it. Getting angry over just letting it happen. “Hm, I know. There are a bunch of people around me feeling the same thing. Especially my brother. He wants to save me so bad, I worry for him. Dangerous people, they have ways around the law. It’s not an easy thing to tackle, and we’re all not sure how to handle it without causing more problems.” Lucas shook his head lightly. “Sometimes, all you can do is just live. Let life move on a little bit, so that’s why I’m trying to clean up the restaurant, upgrade it a bit. Maybe extend the hours, hire another chef even. There can’t be hiding anymore-- which has been my life for five years now. Life is just too precious to me now, if it ends bad down the road at least I lived with friends and family and not alone.”

It was an unfortunately grim way to look at life. Despite that, Orion didn’t know how to dispute it. Lucas had a point. He knew the same things that Rio did. About the hunters. About how they were able to get away with the atrocities they committed. It wasn’t fair, and they all knew that. No point in continuing to rant about it. “I like the idea. To just live your life no matter what. I think it’s… formidable. And brave.” Far braver than Rio could ever aspire to be. Sure, Lucas had a point. No point in living life in fear. But Rio knew that there was an easier way to achieve that. By stopping the hunters. If only he had a way to do that. “Speaking of living life to the fullest, let’s uh- maybe try a less depressing topic? Now that we have all that stuff out of the way. I didn’t know that you had a brother.” He realized that until today, Lucas didn’t talk about his personal life much at all. Something else they had in common. “I have a sister. A twin actually. But uh- I wouldn’t say that we’re especially close anymore.”

Luke felt almost embarrassed about being called brave, but it was nice to hear. “Yeah, I do, he’s in town, his name is Miles, but I also have an older sister who is a lawyer out of state, and a younger brother who is probably causing trouble somewhere. I haven’t seen both of them in a very long time though.” Lucas really needed to call them. Explain everything, just to get it all off his shoulders soon. “I hope you and your sister can speak again in the future, sometimes-- I don’t know, seperation does really make you realize what you are missing, but also gives you a little bit of a break to think for yourself. Family can be in your face without much boundary, right?” Lucas settled comfortably, some of the tension leaving him shoulders. “Also, I want to find someone to do some art on the back all in the dining room. Do you know anyone who is good at finding art in town? I might even just hire an artist to paint right on the brick. What do you think would look good there? We could really go in any direction.”

Family was a sensitive topic. Lucas seemed to hold them dear, even the ones that he hadn’t seen. Orion could tell by the lilt in his voice. It was a shame, really. Lucas seemed to love his family but couldn’t see them. Rio loathed his and felt like he couldn't get away. Even after running from the house, his family was always just around the corner. Literally, given that they live on the same island. And figuratively, given that he always felt they were peering over his shoulder. Waiting for him to mess up so that they could end things. “I’m sorry. That you haven’t seen your other family.” He didn’t know what else to say. “I uh- Yeah family is weird. Sometimes I wish that mine understood me. Or that they would just leave me alone.” That was partially the truth. But he didn’t figure it was worth mentioning that he wanted to stop them. “There’s an art gallery in town. I don’t know much about the owner.” He scratched at his head, pondering it for a moment until Lucas mentioned hiring an artist. “Oh! My roommate is an artist. A fantastic one. He’s more of a sculptor but he excels in most things. He’d be perfect.”

Lucas could also tell that family was another hard topic for them. How could someone as young as Rio have such problems there too? Luke hopes they weren’t alone too much like he had been. Running from things helped clear the mind but it wasn’t the solution, things always came back around, always found you. It seemed they were on a similar cycle, but with different people, different reasons. Luke hoped it didn’t end like it had with himself-- with near death and an unmarked grave. A deep sense of protectiveness ached in him. At least at work Rio will have him. “Your roommate is an artist? Nice, awesome man,” Lucas was excited now. “I mean I’m open to anything, I’m very chill with letting people do their thing. Why don’t you bring them to the shop sometime and let them see the space? What’s their name?”

Orion finished off the section of muffin that Lucas had slid over to him. It wasn’t always pleasant, talking about this stuff. But Lucas made talking easy. He was understanding and kind. He had met multiple people like that in the last few months. He just wished that he had known them beforehand. Maybe he would have been better adjusted. “He’s fantastic. I don’t know if it’s something he’d be interested in but I’ll definitely ask. His name is Ricky! He’s amazing. I will definitely bring him by!” With things discussed, Rio assumed the conversation had mostly wrapped.

Luke cherished the smallest of time slots that could feel normal living. With all the shit happening in town, the weird that lingered around every corner, the full moon rising, and a multitude of problems that liked to chip away at his sanity-- this small shared meal. The idol chatter afterwards that was easy, comfortable.

#x: orion #x: sweet treat

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alexsmitposts · 4 years ago

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It’s been One Hell of a Year in the US and its “Not Over with Yet!”

What is really going on in the US? Lots of people are having a difficult time, and see more of the same, if not worse, for the future. Most Americans are just thinking about one more stimulus check, just before Christmas, with so many unemployed, locked down with COVID restrictions, etc. And they should not get their hopes up too much, as they may be waiting for a long time.

All the while the US government is working to get Covid-19 vaccinations to the American public, but now they want strings attached, as people have not only lost faith in the government but the public health system. One proposal, from former congressman John Delaney of Maryland, aims to link the provision of stimulus checks to getting vaccinated, which is virtual blackmail.

Herd Immunity or Herd Mentality?

Since there’s such massive censorship, especially in the mainstream media and on social networking sites, people who would never otherwise give much credence to far-fetched allegations are now starting to believe there’s a conspiracy, or a “cluster-fuck” of conspiracies, starting out with Russiagate, Crossfire Hurricane Investigation, which proved to be the proverbial witch-hunt.

In light of everything that transpired during its run up, the recent US elections have really opened a Pandora’s Box. Take for instance absentee ballots. Several people claim they’ve seen boxes full of postal ballots not collected or counted after hours. According to Jackie Pick, a volunteer attorney in the State of Georgia who presented the evidence to the state Senate, said four suitcases ‘come out from underneath a table at the site while there was no election supervisor present’. But…. if they’re mail-in ballots, they would be for Biden anyway, right?

The mainstream media continue to totally dismiss claims of voting irregularities and fraud, without being willing to address the fact that the thing is remotely possible, claiming that Trump is merely “crying foul over the results”. But this only adds fuel to an already roaring fire. For example, CCTV evidence recently presented to a Georgia Senate Judiciary Subcommittee shows poll workers waiting for observers and media to leave before accessing ballot-stuffed suitcases from under a table, but no one has bothered to explain this, considering it not worthy of a democratic country’s attention.

Bearers of Bad News

Why is it necessarily to look elsewhere, to “off-the-wall” media outlets for alternative views on the election? Some of their insight into election cyber security, diverting votes by electronic means, Dominion Voter Machines, and old-fashion vote rigging is starting to make sense, and a democracy should be concerned about such claims, not treating them as part of sour rhetoric.

Some are now claiming that large transfers of money were made by Chinese investors prior to the elections, which brings a smile to my face in the light of Biden and his son Hunter, and a plethora of allegations of corruption involving them, including influence peddling and other backhanded moves, reported by the New York Post and other non-mainstream publications and outlets. Such stories, and even more scandalous ones, are quickly discounted or not reported in the respectful American mainstream media. They call that fact-checking.

However, a range of pundits and born again types, also not to be believed, are saying that 5 or 6 counties (cities) in the US were able to control the entire election process, and had known in advance what would be the outcome. In these same 6 cities the voting count was held up due to water problems, and allegedly people were robbed of their votes. There were also water main breaks in those same cities: Atlanta, Philadelphia, Detroit, Las Vegas, Phoenix…, and a few other cities also decided the election: Dallas Milwaukee and Seattle.

It is more than sheer coincidence that all these allegations are buttressed with the erosion of fundamental rights that Americans hold so close, free speech, majority rule, an array of constitutional rights and mainstream values. There is little doubt that the mainstream media, especially news networks such as CNN, have been manipulated in recent years, driving domestic and foreign policy, to a degree Joseph Goebbels would have been envious of.

At last some inside information concerning the agenda of the news networks is beginning to surface, and this is not good timing for those who have been manipulating the news. There is no longer a fine line between the truth and the lie, and CNN and others in the same stream of media flows have taken one maxim to heart: “If you tell a lie often enough people will come to accept it as truth.”

Some of the born again types, and their media outlets, seem to know what is going on, including the backdating of absentee ballots. They believe that Trump will somehow remain in office.

In the Meantime!

It is becoming clear that until Trump is out of the White House, he will be a problem. It does not matter whether he won or not. People continue to send him money that he can use for his own personal use. I liken these people to “useful idiots” or “real patriots.”

Yet many Republicans say nothing – which is sad, as without this force, which saw them of them riding on Trump’s coattails, many would not be in office now. It is so depressing to see that people can be so ignorant, or arrogant, or both. If Trump refuses to leave office – which I don’t believe – there will be huge protests. But he will leave office – he may not like it – but he will leave and continue to “suck” money from his supporters.

CNN Defect and Manufacturing Dissent

Recent breaking news is that James O’Keefe of Project Veritas caught CNN red handed conniving to influence the election over a period of two months during conference calls. This network made a concerted effort to report in favour of Joe Biden in the run-up to the election, and in its wake, thus adding more layers of conspiracies to an already complicated mess.

In the video he has released, O’Keefe enters into a CNN conference call, unmuting himself, telling the CEO, Jeffrey Zucker,

“We’ve been listening to your CNN calls for basically two months and recording everything. Just wanted to ask you some questions, if you have a minute … do you still feel you are the most trusted name in news? Based on what I’ve been hearing on these phone calls, I don’t know about that. I mean, we’ve got a lot of recordings that indicate you’re not really that independent of a journalist.”

The plot thickens as to how media and politics are joined up, and the playing field is less than level. The Washington Post, another media outlet which has also been accused in recent years of one sided coverage, reported that “while Project Veritas had previously disseminated covert recordings of CNN’s daily meetings, in this video O’Keefe himself could be seen dialing in to a private CNN call — apparently without the knowledge or consent of participants”.

It is clear that these recordings, legal or otherwise, show that CNN took sides in the US election, and even in the coverage of Trump’s bout with COVID, and made a concerted effort not to show him and his party in the best of light. What escapes critical attention, however, is what degree of conspiracy may have taken place with those outside of the media, such as the DNC. Based on the 2016 election, CNN is still referred to by some by the nickname, Clinton’s News Network, and that is not a good position for the network itself to be in.

I Smell a Rat!

I remember the news about the “stopped counting” on the night of the election. When this was first reported a few days after the election, election officials added an excuse that people were tired and needed to sleep. Nowhere else in history, especially on Election Day or before a deadline, and “where does a company send night-shift workers home because they’re afraid their workers are too tired?”

I smell a rat. This clip of vote counting clearly shows the counting votes continuing after hours, when everybody else, such as the election monitors, has left. Due to one sided media coverage, only now is this getting the attention it deserves, with recent Senate Hearings, e.g., Congressional Oversight in the Face of Executive Branch and Media Suppression.

Taken together, the media coverage, election results and all else happening now reminds me of an old film about the nexus of media to politics and American values. This is A Face in the Crowd (1957), directed by the rather controversial Elia Kazan, who has long been vilified for naming names during McCarthyism.

Some recent liberal critics have begun to maintain that the film predicts the Trump era, as it exposes an unhealthy alliance between populism, media and politics, while others claim just the opposite. However it definitely shows how lies and manipulation are part of any election process, and what has apparently transpired shows much more than just how low lying, deceitful politicians, journalists and governmental election oversight watchdogs will go to achieve their ends.

We’re Nowhere Near the Thick of it!

There are several videos of postal contract workers saying they saw suspicious dealings with truckloads and boxes full of ballots. As for the movie, readers should watch this carefully, stop at places and take notes, as it tells it all. Think of your own political history, your country – many countries have had, or still do have, similar vote rigging, media manipulation, playing the same political games. Compare for yourself with what is being alleged in the US, and see how your own people are manipulated into accepting all this as normal by government and media.

Think back to Dr. Goebbels, and how Hitler grabbed and consolidated power, and how it all fell apart in the end. The US is supposed to protect the world from that sort of thing. Whenever it is criticised by doing the opposite, it deflects this by saying that can’t be true because such things don’t happen in the US itself. Once the global community had to accept that argument but will it now?

Nobody is going to be the winner in the US presidential election, and the vote count is a moot issue; only democracy will have been lost. This will only empower those who want a different system – dictators, radicals and extremists of all kinds. These are same people who then dress their deeds up as “democratic”, Soviet-style, to give them legitimacy. They day they don’t will be the day US-hegemony ends, and it make be as soon as the day you read this article.

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mamerto8odld · 4 years ago

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How Good Are BigCommerce’s Template Designs?

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Government to business (G2B)

Mobile-friendly design themes with full control of CSS/HTML

1000+ channels reach

9:00 a.m. Aug. 26, 2020

7-step process (below) I suggested a week ago and apply them

BusinessWire - BZX

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ernmark · 5 years ago

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Please continue the fic about Peter being a PI.

Ah, this is an old one.

Juno is the Thief and Peter is the Detective | Part 2 | Part 3

When Juno’s vision comes back into focus, he finds himself staring at what can only be the subject of a still life arranged on the bedside table. Kiwis, dragon fruit, a bunch of bananas, and a glass of orange juice, a cup of yogurt.

And yes, okay, he’s famished. Even discounting the time he’s spent unconscious, it’s been too long since he last ate. But he’s not an idiot about it.

The idiot detective left him a spoon and knife as part of the table setting. And sure, it’s just a butter knife, but he’s done plenty of damage with less than that. He stashes the knife at his thigh and then starts scarfing down what he’s been given.

He suspected the detective might be listening in on him, and he was right. As soon as he starts making noise, the door opens, and there he is: tall and lean and way too pretty to be on that side of the law.

“Oh good,” he says, flashing that sharp-toothed smile. “You’re awake.”

Juno grunts. He doesn’t owe the detective a reply.

“Are you enjoying your breakfast?”

“Is that what this is supposed to be?”

And dammit, Juno can see the suave retort on the detective’s lips, just itching to come out, and he can only guess at which one it’s gonna be. Maybe something about how Juno didn’t seem to mind when Rose was hand-feeding him strawberries. Maybe a quip about the last time Rose made him breakfast. Maybe an allusion to other ways entirely to keep his mouth full. He doesn’t even have to say it out loud for Juno to feel the sting.

And maybe something shows on Juno’s face, because the detective’s expression falters.

“I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” he says at last. “I wanted to leave you something that would keep.”

Juno grunts again. He can’t think of anything else to do.

If he wasn’t still pissed, he might be grateful that the detective changes the subject. He opens a drawer in the bedside table. “I had Rita get you some clean clothes. Ones that haven’t been dredged through the sewer.”

“Nothing wrong with my clothes,” Juno mutters, just because he’s feeling petty.

“They were a biohazard. I tried to launder them, but the landlord threatened to evict me if I brought them within a hundred yards of the washing machine.”

Juno sits upright fast enough to make the medical tape pull at his arm. “Your landlord knows I’m here?”

“That was a joke.” The detective raises his hands to calm him. “No need to get upset.”

“Oh really?” Juno demands. “You sure about that? Because last time I checked, you stalked me, you kidnapped me, you took my clothes off, you stuck me full of needles–”

“To save your life,” the detective says. “They would have done the same for you at Hyperion General.”

“You think they would have sold me a lie to fuck me for three days straight at Hyperion General?”

“Usually that depends on your insurance provider.”

“Shut up,” Juno mutters, because he’s not playing this game. He’s not gonna banter with the detective like they’re partners. He’s not gonna fall for that. Not again.

“Juno,” the detective says again, his voice softer. “I do want you to know–”

“Which part of shut up don’t you understand?” Juno snaps. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes. Well.” The detective nods. “Do let me know how the clothes fit. I can find you something else if those don’t work.”

Juno tries not to hate himself as he watches him leave.

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

Peter isn’t surprised when he finds his bed empty and Juno gone. He’s had a few days to recover, and at least he’s taken the bottle of antibiotics with him.

It might not even be too much to hope for that he stays out of the sewers from now on.

Still, he keeps his subscription to Houndwatch active. It’s on the show, weeks later, that he learns of Juno’s latest escapade. The hosts are in the middle of memorializing their beloved Hellhound when they’re interrupted by a special bulletin: the Hellhound has struck again. His latest victim is an elderly collector who murdered anyone who wouldn’t sell her their Ancient Martian artifacts.

Peter can’t help but feel a twinge of approval when he hears it. He’s always felt acute distaste for people like her– wealthier than the gods themselves, and they’ll never be satisfied. Mag would be proud.

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

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” Peter tells the police captain. “You want me to be your plus-one?”

Captain Khan’s mustache bristles irritably. “That’s what I said, isn’t it? Do you have honey in your ears or something? Now are you comin’ or not?”

“Not that I’m not flattered, but…” Peter picks his words carefully. I was sure you were monogamous hardly seems like the right way to put it. “I’m more a fan of romance than memoir.”

“It isn’t about the stupid book,” Khan grumbles. “I got a good look at the guest list, and Ingrid Lake ain’t the only criminal there. The whole party’s gonna be a big ol’ what’s what of the nastiest people this city’s got to offer. There aren’t enough handcuffs in the precinct for me to arrest them all.”

“Remind me, captain, are you trying to tempt me to go or warn me off? Because I’m afraid you’re sending some mixed signals. at the moment.”

“Maybe let me finish a sentence and I’ll get to that.” The captain scowls like a put-upon school teacher. “I’m gonna be there as Mister Public Relations, bein’ the face of the HCPD for all the cameras. That means that I can’t just go around questioning a bunch of known criminals. But the press don’t know a thing about you. Heck, a few of the guys at the precinct are taking bets that your face doesn’t show up on film.”

“You don’t say.” Honestly, he’s flattered. He’s put a lot of effort into making sure he’s never caught on camera. “So you want me to conduct your interviews for you.”

“Just keep an eye out. With that many shady characters, you know something big is gonna blow up. And I gotta be francine with you– at least half my precinct is on the take from at least one of those mudbags. I can’t trust ‘em. You, though.” He puts a big hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I don’t always get you, Glass, but I know what you’re about.”

Peter would be genuinely touched right now if there wasn’t something unsettling about this moment. He should be used to it by now; in all the strangest ways, Khan reminds him of Mag. He always feels just a little off balance when he’s around him, at once desperate to make him proud and waiting for the moment when he’s betrayed.

As always, he doesn’t let his unease show. “Well, you’re in luck. I just so happen to have the evening free.”

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

Juno never should have taken this job.

Vicky said it was gonna be easy. Just find the weasel who keeps stealing her delivery vans, drag them back to her club, and he gets another month rent-free in her safehouse. Nobody ever said anything about homicidal ex-girlfriends or endless agonizing about how the wife better not hear about this.

And nobody ever said anything about Captain Khan’s new assistant.

If this is another disguise, it’s working: nobody with eyes would take Rose for a private eye the way he’s dressed, all sleek and stunning in a tailored suit that he’ll probably have to peel off himself by the end of the night. Even if Juno wanted to ignore him, the detective is practically everywhere, slinking around between writers and white-collar criminals, hanging off the arms of arsonists, clinking champagne flutes with the mayor themself. God, does he have to flirt with all of them?

But of all the people here, Rose is the closest thing that Juno has to an ally. And if he’s going to get Vicky out of this party alive, then he’s going to need some help.

For most of the night he’s been slinking around the walls, looking for anything else he could possibly work with. Now he steps out of the shadows, positioning himself so that he’s directly in Rose’s line of sight the next time he turns.

It’s like something out of a goddamn movie. Their eyes meet across the crowded ballroom. Time seems to crystalize around them as the thief’s lips part to form words that he doesn’t say. Juno wants to...

It doesn’t matter what Juno wants. He needs Rose to get him out of this mess.

He jerks his head to one side, indicating the dark alcove by the locked back door. Rose gives a slight nod and makes his excuses to the mobsters around him.

Juno listens for the clack of Rose’s heels on the hardwood floor, but he’s still startled when that soft voice croons from behind him. “I don’t suppose I should be surprised to find you here.”

He’s leaning over Juno, even taller in those dizzying heels, looming like some kind of godly statue brought to life. The sight of him leaves Juno’s mouth dry, but it only makes his voice more gruff.

“Are you still in the same line of work as the last time I saw you?”

“For the most part,” Rose says lightly. “Though I’m afraid I’m not much of a nurse anymore.”

“Then I’ve got a tip for you to pass along to your buddy with the mustache.”

He leans in, close enough that Juno can smell that damn cologne.

“Ingrid Lake is planning a murder-suicide. Tonight. Midnight.”

“Do you have any evidence?”

Juno bristles. “You can’t be serious. You really don’t believe me?”

“I do,” Rose says gently. “But the dear captain will be more difficult to convince. And he can’t make any arrests without at least some kind of probable cause.”

“Since when?” Juno nearly snarls, but he manages to get his voice under control again.

“I won’t deny that it’s inconvenient,” Rose says. “But that’s just one of the rules you have to follow when you work with him. Do you have anything, Juno? Anything at all?”

Even though he towers over Juno, there’s something about the sincerity in his eyes that makes him look small and fragile. Juno knows not to let him get under his skin again, but he can’t help it.

“The art,” he says. “The stuff on the walls. It’s all stolen. Smuggled goods from the Outer Rim. Most of it’s obscure enough that you’d have a hard time tracing it, but--”

“But it’s something I can work with.” He smiles softly, gently. “Thank you, Juno.”

“Hurry up and get your evidence already.” Juno turns away so he doesn’t have to look Rose in the eye. “I don’t want to see anyone die tonight.”

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

By the time the police lights cast their flashing lights across the mansion’s walls, Juno is nowhere to be found.

Peter isn’t surprised that the thief has slipped away again. He is, however, caught a little off guard when he reaches for his keys and finds a slip of paper tucked into his pocket.

Just one word, scribbled in a messy hand, but it makes Peter’s heart skip a beat.

Thanks

#likeactuallyroselalonde #the penumbra podcast #writing prompt #fanfiction

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ochards · 4 years ago

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The Ultimate Guide To Acupuncture

GUIDE TO ACUPUNCTURE

Utilizing needles to correct bodily purposes into optimal degrees is your principle supporting acupuncture. Both early Chinese and modern-day Western professionals have repeatedly employed this procedure to ease most victims of persistent illness. Needling can be really a comparatively safe and sound, effective treatment plan which might be utilized to decrease soreness, increase therapeutic, and also increase overall wellbeing. But how can this process completed and what type of rewards may be gotten?

Means of Needle Puncture

You will find just two broad sorts of acupuncture clinic now, classic Chinese medicine (TCM) and health care acupuncture. The two have their own virtues, or so the option is not individual. Your determination for the majority of people hinges upon which particular doctrine appeals to them and also this procedure retains the smallest jealousy.

At TCM, professionals stick to this notion of Qi energy stream, and also the meridians in the traveling. They utilize more needles and fit them deeper to be able to get to the acupressure factors. Contemporary science has uncovered little proof to show the presence of those energy stations, however, this really is actually the procedure which continues to be used efficiently for centuries.

In health care acupuncture, the professionals are now graduates of western health educational institutions. The use of needles isn't in line with the conventional acupressure factors, however on anatomic info. All these acupuncturists utilize shorter blades and also the insertions are tight.

Additionally, they have a tendency to make use of fewer cables and also render them added for briefer lengths of time. Adherents into TCM believe that this really is a Watered-down form of the actual item. Yet the majority of patients also have sensed alleviation of indicators by way of this procedure.

Requirements for Puncture App

There's really a wide and broad collection of diseases that are often handled with acupuncture. The ailments operate the range of allergies, stress to pounds reduction. Many TCM professionals feel that any overall health state results in an imbalance in Qi move, so amenable to needle remedy. Western acupuncturists generally get an even limited collection of signs that probably the most frequently seen which will be control of annoyance.

Manage of annoyance would be your absolute most properly investigated of each one the signs such as acupuncture. That clearly was just a certain favorable impact for most of the sufferers utilizing this particular method. Migraines, premenstrual syndrome, arthritis, carpal tunnel syndrome, and even neuralgias are nevertheless several instances. The idea supporting its efficacy will also be clinically approved and researched, referred to as the gate-control notion of melancholy. It claims the cables may excite nerves that they obstruct the impulses out of aggravation causes.

Anticipated Puncture Session Outcome

It's crucial to highlight that acupuncture is traditionally used just on the very top of medical care. At no time if someone quit drugs or discount clinical directions and only needle residues. Once experiencing a needle threading routine, the most important care doctor is able to make an appraisal with respect to diminishing reliance upon additional treatments.

A training course of acupuncture remedy could continue anywhere from a month or so into a couple months. This is dependent on the intricacy of the distinct health requirement. Results additionally range, therefore it's necessary to get a frank conversation with all the acupuncturist pertaining to the predicted outcome as well as their period framework. Generally, the affected individual will start to truly feel favorable effects immediately after four or three-semester. The certain distinct situation will basically receive somewhat worse before advancing consequently keeping knowledgeable is essential.

In contemporary drugs, using conventional methods with demonstrated consequences has come to be a broadly accepted clinic. Acupuncture has shown its value again and time. Contemporary training recommendations make it powerful, reproducible safe. It's a present of curing form early sages with got the capability to create an aid to countless men and women.

WEIGHT LOSS

Throughout the original therapy, the"4 Gate" details are utilized to circulate energy across the whole human body. In addition, it's feasible that electro stimulation may likewise be achieved in order to boost endorphin discharge and excite metabolic process.

However, earlier needles have been added, the pro will initially request the affected person several concerns and execute an exam. It really is required to have an understanding of the most important reason behind the individual to become more overweight.

The typical affected person about the opposite hand that would like to reduce 5 to ten pounds might need to endure for remedy every 3 times or two weekly once that is achieved, the moment every 2 months. It's up to this individual before as soon as the procedure is going to be achieved that shows that acupuncture is able to assist you to shed bodyweight.

These cables will probably undoubtedly be kept set up for 30 to 45 minutes based on how much service will be required. All these can subsequently be replaced and removed with all ear tags with pliers to make certain that they're in an identical area whilst the cables.

Additionally, you will need to start out the mouth area and show your tongue to assess for fractures, peelings or discoloration in the gut area because this allows hints to the reason why you could be too heavy.

The parts at which in fact the cables will be inserted will probably soon be from the ear and also at 2 or three-body things. These regions can also contain the mouth, and the gut, the lung, and that the endocrine, and the spleen, thyroid or kidney gland.

These ear tags do the job by using light tension if she or he feel starving. It induces a light-hearted launch and assists the individual calm which makes it feasible to use their own nourishment and also withstand the desire to take in.

Component of assessment would be always to greatly help that the acupuncturist finds from where in fact the cables are going to be added. Your pulse can provide the man a notion upon your own overall condition of vitality and also the overall wellness of one's gut.

When she or he knows why here can be that the needles have been inserted into various regions of your human body. 1 manner is known as the multi-targeted system that's intended to decrease your overall body's burden by up the outcome of this adrenal gland.

The individual may even provide to cut back cravings on a particular foodstuff by reducing the ingestion. Some scientific studies indicate this can additionally reduce insulin amounts or lipid amounts from blood circulation.

The number of therapies for somebody who's overweight fluctuates based on how many lbs they would like to reduce, the rate in which they would like to reduce their devotion to adhering to your strategy.

'' there are lots of men and women who're too heavy. For people obese, most likely medical procedures would be your optimal/optimally option however also for those people that are unable to then they are able to take to determine whether acupuncture may take out the extra fat.

The very optimal/optimally thing about acupuncture would be there are not any damaging side effects without a chance of a dependence that occurs. Your individual is going to need to keep coming right back to routine therapy and need to listen to a person's daily diet plan and exercise routine because needles may just do this far to restrain the weight-reduction.

Acupuncture can be really a kind of holistic treatment that utilizes needles that will treat a man. Contrary to the animation in which the balloon will probably pop up along with the atmosphere will proceed out, the fibers which can be added into the critical things will trigger your human body to produce endorphins thereby helping anyone get a grip on their desire.

HELP YOU QUIT SMOKING

When these stains are recognized, these showy cables are subsequently added. Ordinarily, 5 needles have been put in a variety of acupoints.

Most physicians might need to arrive at the clinic 4to 6 days before visiting some substantial outcomes. Merely to supply you with a sense, 1 review shows the respondents documented that a drop in the variety of cravings to smoke only after two or 2 weeks. 7 out of 10 of those respondents could kick off the custom after 6 or 5 periods.

Laughter helps smokers in an identical manner it helps alcoholics and addicts cease their dependence. You merely need to take to it if you might well not have confidence in it.

Acupuncture is an early clinic between the usage of needles. This tool is added to the skin to enable you Qi to begin flowing freely across the human entire body and so assist you to stop smoking cigarettes.

Recall this craving is just brief-phrase and certainly will persist just for a couple moments. You've labored so difficultly to make behind thus adhere to this trail and keep smokefree.

In an identical period, you've got to figure out methods to avoid your self by picking a cigarette up smoking. You certainly can achieve it by steering clear of those that smoke as you are going to be enticed to request a stick. You may make your personal headline that you replicate to your every single time you experience an impulse.

Smoking is just one difficult habit to crack. If smoking gum and patches do not do the job, maybe you ought to take to something like another type of health for example acupuncture.

As soon as you've seen you, you've got to dedicate to this app as you and also the acupuncturist needs to come with each other to provide this up the particular habit.

Since the range of evaluation areas is little, you can find those people who question the efficacy of acupuncture. That really is only because even though there are favorable hints with respect to this brief term aftereffects with the particular technique, its own effects weren't continuing. This really is precisely why many health care journals also have said it is uncertain that acupuncture could perform in cigarette smoking cessation.

If you proceed to visit an acupuncturist for the first time and then tell them you would like to stop cigarette smoking, soon after answering any questions, then the pro will probably take an examination of one's own ears and also hunt for areas at which the vitality will be not low.

The therapy will be completed after an hour or so when the needles have been taken out, you've suggested to don ear bolts in order that your session lasts even once you abandon your practice. Whilst acupuncture is a very nonsurgical method, a few physicians also have promised they believed that a prick or becoming tired.

However, you must not forget that acupuncture isn't long term. It only starts something you need in order to complete all on yours. Many physicians that move 2 or three times every week towards the practice needs to keep coming straight back to followup sessions later on.

Laughter therapy for physicians should just be achieved by means of a permit practitioner. Now you certainly can certainly do a little research online to learn when they truly are licensed by the National Commission for Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine, then inquire how long they've been at the livelihood, learn how several smokers they've assisted and how far can they bill.

#Lifestyle

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finalfantasyxivwritings · 5 years ago

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On Equal Ground

AO3 Version

Relationship: WoL!Reader/X’rhun Tia

Rating: General

Summary: “…Please do not cut yourself down, warrior,” X’rhun finally whispers. “There is a great many people who aspire to be but half the hero you are.”

There is a gentle seriousness in the sound of his words, as if speaking to you a truth that is hard to believe or comprehend. Perhaps they are in a form, a fact that you’ve largely decided to ignore, gone numb in the months where such praise was spoken in mystical awe than of genuine appreciation.

He sees beyond your title, and that is the greatest respect anyone can give you.

If you had to describe the experience of learning red magic with but one word, you feel the most accurate may very well be ‘enlightening’. There is much to the skill than one might assume, so deep in its complexity that to learn red magic in itself is analogous to learning an entirely new form of art: breathtaking when observed of a trained expert, but leaving the amateur daunted and in broken spirits ere the end of the first week of attempt.

If it wasn’t for the fact that your mentor was such a patient man, you doubted that your patience would have long-since fizzled out. It was hard enough to learn but one combative skill; to learn a second one from scratch might have seemed near-impossible to most people.

But you weren’t most people.

“I’d liken to say your sense of balance is fairing much better,” the Seeker says in barely-hidden delight, his voice as warm as the sunlight shining high above the two of you. “Did you see yourself drawing upon your ranged spelled easier than before?”

You take a moment to listen to him genuinely, letting your arms drop as the ache of hours-long training settles into your muscles. Truthfully you hadn’t noticed anything, not beyond the pain and exhaustion at least, and that had been a prevalent issue since the moment that the master red mage had placed the ruby soulstone into your palm.

So you shake your head.

“I mean, my aether seems to stretch a bit longer before I have to rely on the rapier solely to attack,” There’s a shrug to your shoulders as you place the sword back at your hip, keeping the crystal yet hovering over your palm. “-but that’s it, really.”

Though you were familiar enough in the heat of battle, the rapier felt little more than a clumsy piece of pointed metal. Where you had honed your mind and body to see one weapon as an extension of yourself, the careful tool of the red mage seemed nearly alienating–and that’s not even with the additional crystal balanced precariously above your opposite, outstretched palm, with it’s aetheric charge constantly tickling against your skin.

Black and white. Heal and harm. Melee and ranged. The art of the red mage seemed in itself a quandary, a twist of opposites into a form of combat all on its own–and one far different than merely combining the most common spells for the two disciplines of magic. In the same way that thread could be woven into a grand tapestry, so too was the skills of the red mage.

Exhausting. Painful. Confusing.

All things considered, it wasn’t as if your teacher was pushing you past your limits. X’rhun Tia was quite the gentleman in as much stature as in personality; kind, considerate, and happy to let you make mistakes and learn from them without the fear of failure. Considering that you had been used to the weight of the world upon your shoulders as the Warrior of Light, it was nice to feel allowed to be new to the skill. To be ignorant. To learn something.

It means a lot to you.

As if on queue, you hear X’rhun’s footsteps get nearer, signaling the end of the sparring session if at least so that you can catch your breath.

You raise your eyes up to the man just as he’s approaching you, hands on his hips and a smile upon his face that looks as natural as the sunshine–and just as warming to your cheeks.

“Don’t give yourself so little worth.”

For a mentor, X’rhun always seems to offer more compliments than critique–or perhaps the latter is simply woven to delicately that you’re hard-pressed to distinguish the two.

“We oft realize changes when they are happening to ourselves,” X’rhun steps closer to you, close enough that he’s able to reach out a hand over your aether crystal yet held in front of you. It gently glows a dull red in response. “…You’re learning to balance your skills without realizing it. The greater balance you achieve, the more you will be able to ask of yourself in battle before your reserves run dry.”

“I think you’re just being too nice to me,” you retort, though the words are spoken gently. “You’re not allowed to do that, because that display of mine was atrocious compared to what I should be able to do.”

X’rhun tilts his head in such a way that the light is able to play ever so delicately across his icy gaze. Even under the hooded shadow of his broad-rimmed hat, you can see just how sharp the lines in his face are; there are but a couple lines gained from age alone, but it doesn’t discount the fact that the Seeker is a very charming, handsome man.

Sometimes you notice it a little too well.

X’rhun doesn’t seem to notice your lingering attention over his face. He merely laughs, and the sound is pleasant to your tired ears. It rolls through the air like a distant waterfall–perhaps a sound that you’d almost call a purr if you had the slightest more bravery to put words to the thought.

“Am I truly too kind?” the man asks, tone gentle. “Not even the most powerful warriors are perfect at all that they try–but to make the attempt, to take up a skill you know will be difficult and you but give your greatest willpower for it…Now that is a feat of strength few people carry within them.”

X’rhun closes his eyes. A soft sigh ghosts over his lips just as the breeze picks up around the two of you, swirling up into the vast, open blue sky of Southern Thanalan.

“…I greatly respect you, if I’m being an honest man.”

You feel him reach a hand out and lay it on your shoulder; the weight is comforting, though you can’t meet the man’s gaze for more than a few idle moments when you realize how those icy blues seem but to glow in the shadow of his hat, or how his smile seems to match the warmth that blooms inside of your chest.

“You are more amazing than you give yourself credit,” he says. “With one who already has the weight of Eorzea upon their shoulders, the fact you are yet so willing to learn a challenging new skill is but proof of your fortitude and strength of will.”

His hand presses harder still over your shoulder, firm but not painful. There’s but a breath of silence, though the air is far from empty.

“…Please do not cut yourself down, warrior,” X’rhun finally whispers. “There is a great many people who aspire to be but half the hero you are.”

He sees beyond your title, and that is the greatest respect anyone can give you.

So you smile. You smile wide and warm and stupid, until your face hurts and your chest aches, until you nearly feel tears gather at the corner of your eyes. It’s silly how happy the words make you feel. They sound genuine. Warm. Honest.

They come from a man who too has felt guilt and shame upon his shoulders–though he may not completely understand the way the world presses down around you (nobody ever might) the fact that he makes no attempt to idolize you, the fact that he is so bluntly honest in his feelings as a mentor, it…

Well, you do wind up crying, but only a little bit. You feel words bubble up to your lips and spring forth before you can stop them, if only because you don’t have a filter for the sort of mirth that comes to you so rarely.

“You’re a wonderful man yourself Rhun,” your words are nearly laughter, and you make no motion to try and remove the Seeker’s hands from your shoulders–they’re too comforting a pressure. “I appreciate being seen as an equal than as an idol.”

A moment passes. It’s not as if there’s a particularly long pause in the conversation, nor as if you suddenly feel a shift in the air between you. It’s simply a moment that passes, a thought that clicks in your head--and suddenly your eyes are open and looking forward and meeting an icy-blue gaze that looks at you with wonder.

For a moment, X’rhun looks many years younger.

And then he smiles, so much that the expression looks about as happy as you felt but several breaths before.

“Well, I can’t remember the last time someone put up with my company enough to call me by my name.”

It takes a few moments for his words to click, to settle into your brain deep enough that their meaning comes to you. It takes that long for you to realize that, while speaking, you had called him by his name--no marker on the front. It’s meaningful, and it’s by no slip of the tongue either; not one that you didn’t in some way want to make in the first place.

But then again, your thoughts seem to be your worst enemies in general.

It’s a thing of respect and closeness to refer to Seekers without the prefix of their tribe hanging upon their first name. It’s often something shared between friends and family, a step more intimate than a mere nickname. Though you would have felt nervous about using it so brazenly towards a man who could have called himself only your mentor, he seems so very happy about it.

He’s beaming, really.

So all you can do is, in the moment, feel happy in return.

“I can’t remember the last time someone remembered I’m a person,” you say, trying to match his words. “So...that wasn’t....that wasn’t rude right? To call you that?”

“Far from it,” X’rhun says with a quirked brow, taking a step back but letting his hand linger for a moment longer than it needed to upon your shoulder. “ ‘tis a natural part of growing close. Though I may be your mentor in the art of red magic, our bond is yet as equals, and I would have you see me no other way.”

A chuckle comes to your lips, and amusement shortly thereafter.

“So does that mean you’ll go easier on me next time we spar?”

“Not for a moment,” X’rhun scoffs, then turns on his heel to begin walking towards a tree with a promising amount of shade to settle under for a while. “When we spar you are but a fledgling red mage before my eyes. I will ensure that you are allowed to make every mistake with honesty and nothing else weighing upon your shoulders.”

You watch the man eventually stop beneath the shade of a lone tree, but feeble against the rocky landscape. You watch as he takes off his hat, leans back against the trunk, and settles into a comfortable position. It’s only when the Seeker’s eyes turn towards you that you’re caught at last out of your thoughts--icy blue glinting beneath the shade.

A break amidst the sparring.

While you greatly appreciate the ability to sit down and rest for a while from the ache lingering in your body, it’s the company that really brings a smile to your lips and a grateful warmth to your heart.

You couldn’t ask for any better.

#ffxiv #x'rhun tia #x'rhun tia readerinsert #sfw #sfw readerinsert #writing #in which i had this sitting in my drafts for at least a week if not two #and i thought 'oh this is a nice drabble i'll just quick finish it'#and then suddenly it became 2k words #and my cutoff point for drabble to fic is 1k

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