#like no need to do adult stuff that parents E supposed to do??? must be nice

[me-uglypretty]

this month bills is gonna make me commit for real lmao im jk! i cant afford to do that.

[the-slytherin-writer-12]

Best Daughter Ever: Chapter 1 “I am Iron Man” pt 1

A/N: this story is kind of going to be an AU. There are specific things that will happen in this story that aren’t canon and there are things that won’t happen that are canon. For example, in the future Steve is going to be closer to Tony and Y/N than in the canon MCU. I hope all of this makes sense. Also, let me know if you would like to be included in my taglist. 

Word count: 3,652

General Masterlist

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2008

Y/N sat in the living room of the Malibu house. Her dad was supposed to be on a plane to Afghanistan for a weapons presentation. But, being Tony Stark, he was in his lab working on his hot rod. 

Taking over Stark Industries had definitely been hard on Tony back when he was 21. But getting married at 30 and having a kid at 30 was stressful as well. Not to mention that his wife died and he was a single parent. Tony had lost himself in grief and stress. He gambled, he drank, and he spent a lot of his time in his garage. But he did make sure to spend time with his daughter. 

Pepper just walked in with the clothes of some woman that spent the night. Y/N figured it was a friend of her dad’s, but she wasn’t so sure about the ‘friend’ part because she was wearing her dad’s shirt from last night with nothing under it but her undergarments. As to not get in trouble for eavesdropping, she placed some wireless headphones on and played ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ on her StarkTablet. 

“I’ve got your clothes here. They’ve been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there’s a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you’d like to go,” Pepper spoke professionally. Anyone looking at her, whether they knew her or not, could tell that she was uncomfortable. 

The lady walked forward. 

“You must be the famous Pepper Potts,” she spoke. Pepper smiled and clasped her hands together. 

“Indeed I am.”

“After all these years, Tony still has you picking up his laundry?” The woman jabbed. Pepper looked shocked but quickly recovered.

“I do anything and everything Mr. Stark requires, including, occasionally, taking out the trash. Will that be all?” she asked sweetly. The woman looked taken aback but cleared her throat, turned around, and walked away. 

Y/N looked up from her tablet and met Pepper’s smirk. 

“How’d I do?” Pepper asked. Y/N looked back down and shrugged. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Auntie Pep,” The little girl said, looking back up and flashing her a charming Stark smile and batted her eyelashes. Pepper chuckled and held a hand out to the little Stark. 

“You are your father’s daughter. Come on. Let’s go get your dad,” she laughed. Y/N took off her headphones and set them down along with the tablet. She got off the couch and took Pepper’s hand. 

As the two were walking down the stairs, Pepper got a phone call. Y/N chuckled as she heard Tony’s music blasting throughout the garage. 

Pepper punched in her access code and walked in, making J.A.R.V.I.S pause the music that was blasting. 

“Please don’t turn down my music,” Tony said, not looking up from what he was working on. 

“Come, on Daddy. That song wasn’t even good,” Y/N said, letting go of Pepper’s hand and walking over to her dad. Tony turned around and smiled at his daughter, hoisting her up to sit in his lap with an exaggerated grunt. 

“When did you get so big, missy?” He teased. Y/N giggled and playfully hit her dad on her shoulder, causing him to gasp and feign hurt. 

“You’re supposed to be halfway around the world right now,” Pepper said, after putting her phone away. 

“How’d she take it?” 

“Like a champ,” responded Pepper. Tony lifted up a cover of some sort that went on his car. Y/N watched in admiration as her dad fixed the old car. 

“Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?”

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” Pepper said exasperatedly. Tony put the cover he was looking at down beside him and looked back at the car motor. He pointed out quietly what was what to Y/N who nodded and listened with intrigued eyes.

“That’s funny, I thought that with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there,” Tony remarked Y/N giggled, which caused Tony to look at her and smile again. He kissed her cheek, making her squirm away because his goatee was scratchy.

“Don’t encourage him!” Pepper playfully snapped. This caused Y/N to giggle again, but she nodded nonetheless. “Tony, I need to speak to you about a couple of things before I get you out of the door.”

“I mean, doesn’t it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?” Tony continued, setting Y/N down and standing up from his stool.

The two adults continued to talk about business stuff while Y/N walked around her dad’s shop. She knew her way around it, but it still amazed her each time. Her father truly was a genius. 

As she walked to a metal table, she sat down on a stool. 

“Hello, Miss Stark,” J.A.R.V. I.S spoke. 

“Hello, JARVIS,” the little girl replied softly. 

She listened in on her dad’s conversation, something about buying something unnecessary. 

“I’m allowed to have plans on my birthday,” Pepper said. 

“Oh! Daddy it’s Pepper’s birthday!” Y/N called out cheekily. Tony rolled his eyes at his daughter but smiled. 

“I caught that,” he said. “I knew it was. Already?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that strange? It’s the same day as last year,” Pepper said teasingly. Tony looked at her adoringly. 

“Get yourself something nice from me,” he said softly. Pepper smirked. 

“I already did.��

“And?”

“Oh, it was very nice. Very tasteful. Thank you, mister Stark,” Pepper said, smiling. Tony smiled bacl. 

“You’re welcom, Miss Potts,” Tony replied. Y/N coughed. 

“Daddy, don’t you have a plan to catch for halfway around the world?” Y/N teased, breaking the silence. 

Tony turned to his daughter and stalked toward her playfully. 

“Are you trying to get rid of my, princess?” He asked, getting closer. Y/N squealed and got off the stool, running away from him. 

Tony let out a playful roar and caught up to her, picking her up from behind and blowing raspberries on her neck. Y/N squealed as he did so, squirming. 

“Daddy, stop!” 

“Never!” 

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

As the two Starks drove down the highway towards the airport, metal music blasted. Tony never liked going anywhere without his daughter, considering that’s how his wife ended up dead. But, there was no possible way that he was taking his daughter to Afghanistan. 

Speeding into the airport with Happy behind them, Tony came to a screeching halt. Y/N looked up at the plan and saw Rhodey standing at the top of the stairs. 

“Hey, Uncle Rhodey!” Y/N screamed from the passenger side of the car. Rhoday chuckled and waved back. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

Tony got out, laughing. 

“You’re good. Oh, I thought I lost you back there,” he called out to Happy as he got out of the car. Happy opened the trunk to the black car and got Tony’s lugage out. 

“You did, sir. I had to cut across Mullahound,” Happy said dryly. Tony nodded and walked around to where Y/N stood in front of the Audi. He crouched down and took his daughter’s hands. 

“Alright, baby. I’ve got to go,” He said, looking into her e/c eyes. Y/N pouted. 

“Do you have to?” she whined. Tony raised his hand and brushed her curly, brown hair out of the way from where the wind had blown it in her face. 

“Yeah I do. How else am i going to buy you everything?” He aske dsmiling. The girl pouted but nodded. “ I love you, so much.” He said, kissing her forehead, then pulling her into a hug. 

“I love you too, daddy,” she said into his shoulder. 

After a few minutes, Tony pulled back. 

“I’ve got to go now. Aunt Pepper will be there when you go to bed and Happy will stay at the house until she gets there. Be good for them,” Tony instructed. Y/N nodded. Tony placed one last kiss on her forhead and stood up. She watched as he walked to the stairs leading up to the plane. 

“What is wrong with you?’ Rhodey asked. Tony looked up there and shrugged. 

“What?”

“Three hours,” Rhodey deadpaned. 

“I got caught doing a piece for Vanity Fair,” Tony said as he climbed up the stairs, Happy trailing behind him. 

“For three hours For three hours you got me standing here,” Rhodey said. Tony walked past him and into the plane. 

“Waiting on you now.”

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

 Y/N sat in her bed, waiting on Pepper. She was watching TV when pepper walked in, tears running down her face. 

“Auntie Pep? What’s wrong?” The little girl asked. Pepper walked over and sat down beside the young Stark. 

“Sweetie. Um, your father. He, uh, he went miss..missing in Afghanistan. There was a bombing and he was kidnapped, they suspect,” Pepper choked out. Tears sprung in Y/N’s eyes. 

“Daddy’s missing?” she asked in a small voice. Pepper nodded, wiping her tears off and sniffling. Tears began to make their way down Y/N’s face. 

“Yes, sweetheart. He is. You’re going to stay with Uncle Rhodey until they find him. It shouldn’t be long.’

But it was long. It was three months. Three, long months without her father. She cried herself to sleep everynight for the first month. Then, for the next too, she barely slept. 

All Rhodey could do was watch helplessly as his goddaughter lost sleep and missed her dad. He did everything he could to make her feel better. They even started staying at the Malibu house just so she could sleep in his bed.  While she waited on her father, Y/N was no longer the happy little girl that she used to be.

As news reports told about the accident, they let it slip that the famous Tony Stark had a daughter. This caused for Rhodey to basically place her under a lockdown, barely leaving the house. 

When they got news that Tony was found, Y/N burst out into tears. Rhodey cradled the girl in his arms as he thanked whoever was out there that Tony was alive. 

Y/N went to the airport and waited with Pepper and Happy, since Rhodey was the one to go get him. When the gate let down on the back of the plane, Rhodey was helping Tony up from a wheelchair. His arm was in a sling and he was holding Rhodey’s hand as they walked down the ramp. Y/N began crying as she let go of Pepper’s hand. 

“DADDY!” The little girl screamed. She waited until the two best friends were off the ramp to run to him. Tony’s face broke out into a smile at the sight of his beautiful little girl. 

Tony, with the help of Rhodey, kneeled on the ground and Y/N launched herself at her dad. She was mindful of his hurt arm. She cried in his suit jacket as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Tony got chocked up as he wrapped his good arm around her. She smelt like home. Oh, how he missed her.

“Hey, princess. It’s alright. I’m right here,” he whispered into her hair. Pulling back, he admired her. While stuck in the cave, he didn’t know if he was going to see her ever again. 

“What happened?” Y/N asked, sniffling. She then felt a hard thing under his shirt, right in the middle of his chest. She tilted her head to the side and placed a hand on the hard piece of metal. Tony smiled and shook his head. 

“I got caught by some bad guys. But I’m Tony Stark, so I found a way out of there. And about this thing, some scrap pieces of metal got stuck in my chest and thus was the only way to keep me alive. Its a tinier version of the arc reactor at lab,” he explained. The little girl just hugged him again. Tony stood up, bringing her with him. He settled her on his hip and walked towards Pepper. 

“Hmm. Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long lost boss?” Tony asked the woman. Pepper smiled. 

“Tears of joy. I hate job hunting,” she replied. Tony’s lip quirked up at the corners and walked past her and to his car. 

“Yeah, vacation’s over.”

Sitting in the car, Tony set Y/N beside him, allowing her to curl up into his left side. Tony wrapped his arm around her and kissed her hair. 

“Where to, sir?” Happy asked from the driver’s seat. 

“Take us to the hospital, please, Happy.”

“No.” Tony said. 

“No? Tony you have to go-”

“No is a complete answer.’

“-to the hospital. A doctor has to-”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“- look at you.” Pepper finished. 

“I’ve been in captivity for three months. There are three things I want to do; I want an American cheeseburger. I want to hold my daughter, and the other…”

“That’s enough of that.” 

“...is not what you think. I want you to call for a press conference now.” Tony finished. Pepper looked at him.

“Call for a press conference?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Hogan, drive.” 

“What on earth for?”

“Cheeseburger first.”

After stopping at Burger King for three cheeseburgers, they made it to Stark Industries. Reporters and workers were lined up outside the door. Obie was waiting on them opening the door for Tony as they pulled up. 

“There he is. Ah. Tony,” he said, pulling Tony into a hug when he stepped out of the car. Tony wiped his mouth and hugged him back, Y/N getting out behind him. “We were gonna meet you at the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine,” Tony replied, throwing his napkin in the car. Happy walked around the car and held the Burger King bag out for Tony, who reached in and pulled out his second cheeseburger. 

Pepper walked over and motioned for her to follow her dad, who was talking to Obie about having to get a cheeseburger. 

Once they arrived in the press conference room, applause immediately sounded as Tony walked into the room. He had just finished his burger, meaning he was still chewing. 

Tony stopped for a moment, turning around and looking for his daughter. She was watching him from beside Pepper. With a jerk of his head, the little girl walked to her dad with a huge smile on her face. Tony grabbed her hand, smiling down at her. 

The two walked in between reporters who were desperate for news.  Arriving at the platform, Obie stepped behind the microphone and quieted the reporters down. Tony just sat down on the steps in front of the stand, allowing Y/N to sit beside him. He wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side. 

“Hey, would it be alright if everyone just sat down?” He asked,pulling out a cheeseburger from his suit pocket. “Why don’t you just sit down? That way you can see me and I can… a little less formal and..” 

Everyone sat down, including Obie who sat beside Tony. Tony looked over to Obie and muttered a ‘good to see you.’

“I never got to say goodbye to my father.” Tony started. Y/N made a shocked face and looked up at him. Tony just glanced down at her and smiled. “There were questions I would’ve asked him. I would’ve asked him how he felt about what this company did. If he was conflicted, if he ever had any doubts. Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels.” 

Flashes were going off as he spoke. Y/N wondered why she was talking about her grandfather, he never talked about him. Especially to the public. 

“I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend and protect them. And I saw that I.. had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.” Tony explained. A young reporter raised his hand on the front row. 

“Mr. Stark.” He said. Tony looked at him and nodded. 

“Hey, Ben”

“What happened over there?”

There was a beat of silence before Tony got up, Y/N scrambling up with him and taking his hand. 

“I-I had my eyes opened. I cam to realize that I have more to offer thus world than just things that blow up,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice. He walked around to platform and stood behind the microphone. “And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International-” 

This caused an uproar of noise. The reporters were talking over each other to get his attention. Y/N shrunk into her father’s side, not liking the loud noises.

“-until such a time as I can decide what the future of the company will be,” He finished. Obie grabbed him by the shoulders and talked over Tony through the microphone. 

Tony picked his daughter up and placed her on his hip, stepping back in front of the microphone. 

“I don’t want my daughter to grow up in a world with violence. I understand that violence is inevitable, but I will do the best i can to keep her away from it all. Manufacturing weapons is not doing that,” Tony explained, effectively quieting the reporters. He walked down the steps, ignoring the reporters clamoring. He kissed Y/N’s head, allowing her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. 

“What we can take away from this is that, Tony is back. And healthier than ever.”

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

Tony wanted to go to the lab at Stark Industries. So, Happy drove him there and Y/N waited in the car, watching as Obie drove up on a Segway. He looked unhappy and walked in, leaving Happy to deal with the Segway. 

Y/N took out her Starktablet from her bag she takes with her everywhere, and pulled up a movie. She had recently been exposed to the Harry Potter series, obviously she read the books first. Taking out her earphones, she pulled up the 3rd movie, Prisoner of Azkaban.

Arriving home, Tony immediately went downstairs. Y/N sighed and went to her room, wishing her would watch a movie with her and cuddle. 

A few hours later, J.A.R.V.I.S announced that her father requested her in the lab. She paused her movie, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and got up. Dumbledore had just walked into the room, screaming at Harry for ‘putting his name in the Goblet of Fire.”

When she got there, she saw that Dum-E and the other robots had cleared some room and placed a metal table-like thing in the room, along with some monitors that looked suspiciously like an EKG monitor. 

“Alright, princess. I need you to help me with something,” he said, turning her attention to him. She gasped as she walked over to her father, looking at the reactor in her dads chest. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the cool metal. She grinned up at her dad.

“This is so cool,” she whispered excitedly. Tony grinned down at her and laughed. Dum-E brought over what looked like a better version of the reactor.

“You really are my daughter. Ok. I need your help. I need to swap this old one out for the new one,” he explained, holding up the new arc reactor. Y/N nodded and shook her hands out. “Ah, no. You have to be careful. There is an exposed wire under this device that is touching is making contact with the socket wall and causing a short,” he explained, taking out the old reactor. Y/N watched closley as he pulled it out, exposing a wire attached to it that went deep into his chest cavity. 

“Ok. I’m assuming you want me to get the wire, pull it out, and then reconnect the new reactor?’

Tony grinned at her proudly and nodded. 

“Exactly. But be careful, if you touch the sides with the wire or pull out the magnet,  I could go into cardiac arrest,” he said nonchalantly. Y/N gawked at him.

“Ok.. Grey’s Anatomy don’t fail me now,” she whispered. Tony chuckled. 

Y/N reached into the hole and searched around for the wire. 

“Wh-what is this in  here? Is that discharge?” she exclaimed.

“Yes it is. Just get the wire.” 

Y/N searched for the wire until she found it. She carefully pulled it out, being sure not to touch the sides. 

“Ok. Ok. Good now just don’t-”

She pulled out the magnet. 

“-pull out the magnet. Ok. It’s ok.”

The EKG started flat-lining, making her panic, She really wanted to page Dr. Yang, and charge to 200. Maybe even page Dr. Shepard just to be safe.  But, her dad seemed fine. 

“Daddy you’re going into cardiac arrest though!”

“I know. Just put the new reactor in, attaching the wires to the base plate,” he said, handing her the new reactor. She reached in, and attached the wires to the base plate like her said. He exclaimed when she did, making the heart monitors come back and set them at a steady rhythm. 

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and she dropped her head onto her dad’s chest. She then playfully swatted it.

“You can’t give me a heart attack at 8, daddy,” Y/n scolded. Tony laughed and ran his hand over her hair. She lifted her head and look at her dad. Tony sat up and kissed her forehead. 

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” she says, then glances at the old reactor. “What are you going to do with the old reactor?” 

Tony glanced her her, then turned back to whatever he was doing with Dum-E. 

“Throw it away. Incinerate it,” he said without any care. Y/N frowned and furrowed her eyebrows. 

“You don’t want to keep it?”

“Nope,” came his response. Y/N grabbed it and looked at it. 

“Well, I’m keeping it. Now, can you come watch some movies with me? You literally just got back from a foreign country where you were kept as a hostage,” she deadpanned. Tony chuckled, but tossed a shirt on and grabbed her hand. 

“Yes, let’s go. What are we watching?”

Taglist:

@bxtchboy69​

[mourntheantagonist]

Have it Your Way

HWOL Day 2 Prompt: Overstimulation

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.2k

warnings for referenced underage sex with adults and homophobic language

read on ao3

Billy was always seeking out just a fast and easy release. A quick fuck in an alley outside or blowjobs in the bathroom stalls with whatever guy was eyeing him at the other side of the bar. Usually just two closet cases out for the night to earn the sweet release they were desperate for before they performed the same walk of shame back to their shitty lives in their heteronormative world, hitting on girls and becoming overcompensating womanizers.

At least that was the case for Billy Hargrove. Forgoing feelings and foreplay for the feeling of a cock in his ass as he’s fucked senselessly into a brick wall next to trash filled dumpsters, but only smelling the rich scent of cheap cologne and sweat. A much preferred alternative to the delicate fragrances and cleanliness he was supposed to enjoy. The perfume that always made the dissociation and imagination wear off when he was fucking girls at parties in the host’s parents bedroom, making sure partygoers heard the moans and groans to keep up appearances. Have a reputation like Billy’s and nobody would ever question his early departures. Nobody ever knew what he did for the after party.

California was easy. Getting his hands on a guy who just wanted to fuck was as simple as walking three miles to whatever run down gaybar that would let the pretty underaged boy in through the doors with just the flash of his devilish smile. He never walked home empty handed, just the signature limp of someone who took it a little too rough that night. Men twice his age were always buying him drinks and flirting with him at the bar, he could have anyone he damn well pleased. It was easy, simple, and honestly super fucking convenient. Free booze followed by a no strings attached hook-up with his pick of the litter. No names were exchanged, rarely even words at all. Just telling movements of the eyes and sounds of heavy breathing and moaning that echoed alongside others who found their way into the men’s room. Two, or even three pairs of feet seen underneath the gap of each stall. Panting and releasing expletives as the doors rattled from bodys that were slammed against locked doors.

California was easy.

Indiana was not.

Especially not Hawkins of all places. One bar in the entire town that was most certainly not his kind of bar. No clubs no anything. Release wasn’t three miles away anymore, it was a hundred miles away. But that was Neil’s plan all along wasn’t it? Drag his no good queer son across the country to the most conservative town he could find on the map, where if there even were gay people around they were so far deep into the closet they couldn’t even see daylight.

But there had to be somebody right? There had to be someone. Else Billy might completely explode. Already beginning his reputation building by fucking the first girl who showed interest in the backseat of the Camaro in the school parking lot. With no quickie in a back alley to follow it up, he was left keyed up and desperate and his hand and a mag could only do so much before he completely lost his mind.

Especially when people like Steve fucking Harrington existed. Back in California he never let himself look at another classmate like that. They were off limits. He had the means he needed there and didn’t need to steal looks in the showers or get a little too handsy during gym. But that’s all he’s got. All he had was the glorious feeling of his dick rubbing up against Steve’s ass in tight green shorts as he boxed him out, and the stolen glances of his soft dick as water cascaded down his body and dripped from the tip. Manifesting his entire will to keep his dick down and tamed while he burned the whole sight into his long term memory. Saving it for his sock later.

Billy was correct to assume Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t like California. It was quiet and quaint, but he was wrong to assume he’d entered the land of purity. Small town folks were just as freaky as the people living it up in the city, they were just more quiet about it. Playing the long game to pick up on certain traits and actions before making a move because house parties weren’t gay bars where everyone was already on the same page. It was a game of needle in a haystack. And Billy guesses he finally put out enough clues to be found.

By Steve fucking Harrington of all people.

What Billy didn’t yet realize when he was cornered into an empty bedroom at some random junior house party was that Steve may have found his needle in a haystack, but Billy, he had struck gold.

The door was slammed closed by the force of Billy’s weight as Steve gripped the collar of his shirt and pushed him back against it. Lips slamming into his with bruise inducing force that had Billy almost sinking to the floor. Breath caught in his throat and his only reaction was to pull Steve’s body in closer by the tug of his belt loops so he could feel the dick he so perfectly memorized pressed up against his own through multiple layers of clothing. His jeans were already growing tighter and it hadn’t even been a minute.

How was he already this damn hard?

And now Steve had felt it and it was his own damn fault that he did.

“Already huh?”

Instead of trying to hide it, he just pulls his hips even closer and jerks his pelvis forward against Steve’s. Snaking a hand around to grab at Steve’s ass through his jeans, imagining he was wearing those same little green shorts he wore during P.E.

“Are we gonna do this or not?” Billy asked, in a deep and husky voice, noses nearly touching, eyes half lidded.

“Oh we’re doing this, but we’re doing this my way.”

His way? Well count Billy as intrigued.

“I’m versatile if that’s what you want to know.”

Steve huffed out a laugh and twisted a finger into Billy’s curls.

“Oh I already know you can take, I wasn’t worried about that.” Billy eyed him, wondering exactly what vibe he gave off to make that something he was so sure of. Instead of questioning it for long, he let his hand snake back around to the front of Steve’s jeans and tug down at his belt buckle, leading Steve to grip him by the wrist and pull his hand away.

“Not so fast. My way.”

“Well fuck pretty boy, get on with it then.”

He expects Steve to pull him back away from the door, secure the lock, and toss him onto the strangers bed. All mean and rough just like what he was used to. Completely have his way with him, take his ability to walk and leave him there naked on the bed as he recovered. And he would be completely happy with that. Elated even. Just another hook-up like all the others.

What he doesn’t expect is for Steve to start kissing him again. A hand cradling his jaw as he slowly moves his lips against his, a striking change from his little introduction. This one was soft and gentle and completely unlike any kiss he’s ever had before. The closest comparisons that came to mind were the ones with girls and those were different in the fact that this one in particular was actually enjoyable. And he allowed himself to enjoy it. Allowed himself to take part in something he never had the chance to receive. A solid lead up, the full exposition and rising action instead of skipping straight to the climax. It was weird and foreign but not totally unpleasant.

He could honestly do this for hours if he wasn’t so painfully hard and so desperately impatient. Each effort made to pull away or snake a hand down Steve’s pants or even just touch himself was met with a quick slap on the wrist, until Steve finally got tired of that and pinned Billy’s hands above his head, thumbs digging into his wrists. Immobilizing him. Continuing working away at him with only the use of his lips. Tongue moving like it was on some kind of exploration. Mapping the geography that was Billy’s mouth.

Finally, after what seems like a goddamn eternity, Steve’s lips separate from his. Now they can get to the good stuff. The real reason they were here.

Except he goes back in, this time passing up his lips to instead begin sucking on his neck. Billy’s starting to get sick of these surprises.

Hickies. Something else he’s never received. Never had someone’s lips find their way to the most sensitive part of the area and suck harshly enough to leave a bruise. He couldn’t let that happen anyway. Couldn’t leave any physical evidence behind that Neil could grasp onto. But this situation was different. Neil might even see the hickey and be proud because Hawkins Indiana didn’t have any faggots like him. Must have been a girl right? But it wasn’t like anyone had really even tried to do that back in California. The guys he hooked up with didn’t do any of this. It was different but not necessarily a bad kind of different. Nobody had ever so much as kissed his neck, most certainly never taken skin between teeth and bit down. Not like Steve just fucking did.

Billy physically convulses and stifles a moan with the bite of his own lower lip. Feels as the sensation travels from where Steve’s teeth came in contact all the way down his spine making him almost whimper before Steve finally competes dragging his teeth and has let go.

“You like that huh?” Steve whispers into the crook of his neck. Breath hot against the dampness that coated his neck from the combination of Steve’s saliva and his own sweat. He’s almost positive that he’s leaking precome into his jeans right now because no interaction he’s ever had has lasted this long. He’s never kept his pants up for such a length of time and it’s starting to become too much. Not sure how much of that is Steve’s credit, and how much is the credit of months of jerking off in the shower and forcing his way through another just-for-show encounter with the latest girl who hit on him. It was all building up inside of him, waiting for this moment and Steve really had the audacity to withhold that from him.

“God would you just fucking screw me already?”

Steve just moves back into Billy lips. Chins touching but not kissing him. Speaking the words into his open mouth.

“If you’re not enjoying yourself I can leave.”

No. Anything but that.

“Fine. We’ll do things your fucking way.”

“I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.”

Billy still didn’t fully understand what “his way” entailed, but he figured out soon enough that it had something to do with going slow. Agonizingly slow to the point his dick was absolutely throbbing and he found himself fighting against Steve’s continued hold on his wrists because he just needed to touch. Failing against Steve’s strength and moving on to plan B which entailed extending his hips forward against his thighs, rubbing up and down against the muscle under the denim.

“You’re really fucking impatient, you know that?” Steve says in response and it just occurs to Billy that none of this is affecting Steve the way it is him. He can feel he’s hard in his jeans as well yet he’s not on the brink of collapse like Billy.

But finally Steve does something that at the very least scratches an itch. Releases his hold on one of his wrists and with his own hand palms Billy’s crotch through his jeans. He doesn’t rub or gently squeeze, just lets the palm rest there and ever so slightly push against it and Billy is left to do the remainder of the work. Moving his crotch against Steve’s hand with a heavy release of a sigh. It only does what he needs for just a few short seconds before it starts to get uncomfortable again. He needs Steve to move his hand, do something other than just let it sit there completely still. And now there’s no holding back the whimpering and he’s about ready to resort to desperate pleas.

Steve’s hand leaves where it was cupping his excruciating hard dick and Billy’s learned by this point not to get his hopes up for anything. The hand moves upward and presses against where he stopped buttoning his shirt leaving his chest halfway exposed, finally some fucking skin to skin contact. Billy takes the opportunity with his free hand to finally grab at himself, and he’s more than thankful when Steve doesn’t pin it back up against the door. Instead Steve uses his own free hand to travel up the length of his chest until it finds the spot he was searching for. The spot that would send Billy absolutely reeling. Gently, the tip of one of his fingers brushes over an erect nipple and just the brush of contact makes Billy shiver. Responding to the reaction Billy produces by taking the nub in between his two fingers and pinching them together. Suddenly receptors are firing off like fireworks and his dick is twitching and he’s this close to coming in his pants from the combination of Steve’s excruciating idea of foreplay and the friction against his own hand.

“Shit Harrington I’m fucking close.” He breathes out. Chest heaving as Steve only tightens his grip. Smiles at him, no, smirks at him with raised eyebrows and he ever so slowly lowers himself with the bend of his knees. Then doing the fucking unthinkable. With his right hand he continues rubbing and pinching Billy’s left nipple, while Steve takes the right into his fucking mouth. Dragging and flicking his tongue against the tip before catching it in between his teeth, suddenly an area far more sensitive than his neck. He’s nearly done for. It was a lot.

He thought his problem was that he hadn’t been getting enough.

The problem was he was getting too much.

“Fuck, Steve!”

Billy was never a talker during sex, but right now it was getting harder and harder to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m gonna— fuck, shit Harrington!”

A tight squeeze to his left nipple paired with a wet suction to his right and the frantic humping of his own hand has him finally reaching his limit. Spilling his load into his own underwear coupled with the humiliating noise that escapes his body like a ghost.

That was typically where the night ended. He was rarely ever the first to come and even when he did, the other guy followed shortly after. But Steve wasn’t even close. Erection still very prevalent in the outline of his jeans. Billy had no idea what tricks Steve had beneath his sleeve.

Despite Billy literally creaming his pants, Steve doesn’t stop playing with his nipples, only finally releasing his hold on Billy’s other wrist that had been pinned above his head for practically the entire duration. Steve is so into what he’s currently doing like he derives pleasure from making others feel good. Which is extraordinarily hot, and Billy quickly starts to feel the same cock that was fucking throbbing just moments ago begin to chub up again.

So this was his fucking plan.

He seems very pleased with himself when he’s had enough with the nipple play and rises back up to his regular height to kiss Billy again. Deeply this time, inhaling his smell and taste and relishing in it.

“Now let’s have some real fun.” He says once their lips come to part from each other. By now Billy just accepts that Steve is the one in charge and follows his lead without pushback. Letting Steve guide his hands to his belt, finally giving him the permission to do what he’s been fucking aching to do since he stepped, or more accurately was dragged, through the bedroom door. Chaotically undoing his belt and yanking down Steve’s jeans and boxers simultaneously while Steve pulled his own tee over his head. His dick bobbing free, catching a glimpse of it hard for the first time. So much bigger than he’d remembered. And it’s hard for him.

He starts working at his own belt while Steve undoes the two fastened buttons of his shirt, despite being able to just as easily pull it over his head. Billy drops his pants to the floor, his dick is coated in his own come from his previous orgasm and he’s already more than half hard, earning a grin out of Steve when he looks down to see it.

“Bed.” Steve says, gesturing toward the California King. How fucking fitting.

Billy takes his naked body and lies out onto the bed, letting himself get comfortable. Head resting on a surprisingly soft pillow. Steve checks the lock on the door and reaches down into his jeans to pull out a small bottle.

“You just carry lube around with you to parties?” Steve laughs as he makes his way over to the bed. Crawling on top to where he’s situated in between Billy’s spread out legs.

“Never know when you might need it.”

“Yeah. Well I usually take my dicking rough.”

Steve wrapped a hand around each of Billy’s shins and moved his feet up the bed so that his knees were bent and his hole was exposed.

“Well rough isn’t really my style.”

“Yeah, I fucking noticed.”

Billy propped himself up on his shoulders as he watched Steve. Waiting for the click sound of the lube bottle opening, not expecting to see Steve’s face midway through a movement angling down. Hands bracing themselves against his bare hips, fingernails gripping and digging into the skin leaving crescent shaped indentations as Steve’s lips begin to suck on his inner thigh. His hair falling forward and brushing over his dick that was already getting harder by the second without Steve’s head between his legs.

How the fuck did Billy not know about all these sensitive areas of his? Secondly, how the fuck did Steve know about them?

His legs are fucking wobbling and he can’t contain the movement at all. He’s already gripping the sheets and Steve hasn’t even put a finger inside of him.

Something about the whole thing felt odd, and he was struggling to put his finger on it until he let his head fall back against the soft pillow.

This was the first time he’s ever taken a man to bed. He’s fucked and been fucked by countless nameless and sometimes faceless men, yet he’s never done it in the comfort of a private area, let alone a comfortable bed. The ideal place for such an activity.

However, Billy doesn’t get to think too long and hard about that before cold hands quickly spread his cheeks and the tongue that was just leaving bruises on his thighs is suddenly licking over his hole.

He tenses due to surprise and has to actually bite the pillow to stop himself from loudly moaning when the underside of Steve’s tongue trails back down. His tongue soon darting inwards and swirling around inside of him making him gasp.

Billy thought experience was something he had, easily.

Turns out there were a lot of things that he hadn’t felt before.

And Steve Harrington decided to just check off the whole goddamn list in one go.

He was completely hard by now and beginning to leak pre once again. The head of cock red, and throbbing in his ears.

Steve’s tongue feels good. Really fucking good but he is absolutely desperate to have his back fucking broken by the dick that’s been permanently ingrained in his head for weeks now. He’s fit to scream at any moment.

The glorious sound of a cap clicking open is what pulls him off of the edge of absolute insanity. Two fingers adorning a cool gel find his hole and slowly one of the fingers slips in with a comfortable ease.

As previously mentioned, this wasn’t Billy’s first time around the block. And apparently not Steve’s either, which Billy expected to have some follow up questions once everything was all said and done.

Steve’s single finger was quickly followed by the institution of a second. His index and middle surging knuckles deep inside of him and beginning to scissor open and closed, spreading the walls apart and opening him up for more. Opening him up for Steve.

Soon the second finger turns into a third. And while everything is progressing along much quicker than it was while he was pressed up against that door, it’s still way too slow for Billy. He’s refraining from wrapping his hand around his own dick just out of sheer curiosity to see what Steve wants to do. Fights the extremely tempting urge, instead propping himself back up on his shoulders so that his hands were occupied elsewhere.

Billy’s not sure whether he regrets the decision to look at Steve or not. Because as Steve spreads his fingers within him, he looks fucking ethereal. Hair strands falling perfectly into his face, mouth hanging open with his tongue slightly hanging out past his lips. A look of sheer focus. Beads of sweat constellating his forehead alongside the constellation of moles that decorate his entire body. He’s going to lose it again if Steve doesn’t fucking get on with it already.

It’s actually beginning to hurt with how much desire he has coursing through his veins and pooling into the head of his cock.

Too much. It’s too much.

Steve can see the look on his face, the aggressive scrunching of his face as he waits for Steve to finally destroy him with what he’s aching for. What has been haunting his every dream and moment alone in the shower.

The rising action was nearing its end, it was time for the climax of this story to begin.

Steve removed his fingers from Billy and ripped open a new condom with his teeth. Rolling it onto his own dick that is finally looking to be at the same point Billy’s is. Absolutely rock hard.

He presses the tip of his dick firmly against Billy���s hole and it’s as if time stops just before Steve makes his slow and steady entrance, and Billy’s breath hitches.

Steve’s own eyes fall shut as he begins pumping in and out slowly trying to find his rhythm, while one hand situates itself onto Billy’s thigh, while the other that’s already coated in lube wraps around Billy’s shaft and begins pumping his hand at an identical rhythm. Pacing perfectly matched with Billy’s own breathing. Chest heaving up and down with every pump of Steve’s hand around his dick and every slam into his prostate.

“I’m close Steve. Fuck! I’m close.” Billy grunts out. Steve just picks up the pace. The first time he’s done that all damn night. Rhythm becoming erratic with Steve’s own breathing following suit. Panting heavy exhales that hit Billy’s stomach with their heat making him shiver and shake.

The muffled music and chatter that’s occurring on the other side of the wall behind him completely goes silent in his head and all he can hear is Steve. His breathing and groaning as he gets closer and closer to his own climax and Billy begins to view it as a competition on who can last the longest.

But it’s already clear who would win that battle, isn’t it?

Surely enough, Billy lasts about another measly forty-five seconds before he’s coming into Steve’s hands and dripping out over his stomach.

But like most of his hookups before, it isn't long before Steve is bottoming out and filling up the condom within Billy. Letting out his own hefty moan upon release. Letting his head toss backwards and his hair flip back out of his face and he could honestly get hard again if he wasn’t literally trying with all of his might to do anything else.

Steve eventually toppled over and fell onto the bed, lying on his back right beside Billy as they both looked up at the same ceiling fan and came down together.

“That was fucking something.” Billy said, finally catching onto his breath and reentering reality.

“Yeah, that was fun. I’m looking forward to next time.”

“Next time?” Billy turned his head so that he was looking at Steve.

“Yeah. You owe me an orgasm.”

Billy looked at him incredulously.

“You didn’t cum?”

“No, I did. But I didn’t cum twice.”

Billy playfully pushed his shoulder with three fingers. “That’s your own damn fault, you know that.”

“Are you turning the offer down?”

Billy smiles, takes advantage of the fact that he can kiss Steve and he does, rolling over on top of him and planting a short and wet one right onto his lips.

“No.”

Billy watches Steve walk out of that room approximately ten minutes later, leaving him naked and alone on the bed just like he expected, except this time, there’s hope for more.

[foolgobi65]

i really wish the writers of lucifer hadn't turned chloe and maze's friendship into such an afterthought! like ok:

- when they start in season 2, both of them are in pretty isolated places socially. chloe, already a pretty introverted workaholic, is just newly divorced and has exactly one (1) friend: lucifer. maze has finally split off from lucifer and has two (2) friends: linda and trixie, but for the purposes of this comparison linda really is maze's one friend. maze has just accepted that she's not actually going back to hell, that this time on earth isn't really just a lunch break before they go back to the real world (hell) and so she now has to figure out how to build a real life in LA.

- basically, both maze and chloe are kind of in similar positions in terms of being isolated and really only having a singular overwhelming relationship with someone as opposed to having a network they can rely on so that all their eggs aren't in one basket. you can see where this backfires on both of them throughout the series when linda spends the week not talking to maze after seeing lucifer's face, and when lucifer runs off to vegas and suddenly chloe is stuck with all these feelings she can't express (and crucially can't talk about to him, her best friend.) ofc lucifer and maze's relationship transcends friendship just based on their immense history and is its own weird thing that i also kind of wish they had given more thought to, but w/e.

- enter: maze and chloe's friendship! i think for both maze and chloe, the other person is as "far" as you could get from themselves, but is fascinatingly still someone they can like, respect, love, and be loyal to. for a good while (and this is something i REALLY wish they had maintained) chloe, maze, and dan are basically raising trixie together which takes so much respect and trust that the other person is someone you want having a hand in influencing a kid you love! i think what's interesting is that, unlike lucifer who is trying to answer existential questions about his place/purpose in the universe, maze is really just focused on the people she cares about and having a good time (which is rooted in her doing meaningful work as a bounty hunter.) chloe is someone who pursues duty to the point of self-sacrifice, and obviously her friendship with lucifer helps her loosen up, but the pedestal he places her on/reverence he sometimes feels for her prevents him from really popping that bubble in the same way maze does. also chloe and lucifer's relationship gets SO much more complicated around the time maze enter's chloe's life so the role that lucifer once had to shock chloe out of her comfort zone kind of goes to maze once chloe has to draw some personal boundaries with lucifer.

- i think the key to maze and chloe's friendship is that they're both people who desperately need someone who embodies the other person's best trait. while this tendency isn't always healthy, maze is fundamentally someone very loyal to those she believes deserves it. obviously she's also betrayed people a billion times but at her core she's deeply committed to those she cares about which is something that i can see chloe find really appealing. at this point chloe has spent so much of her life in this weirdly precarious position where, since her dad's death she hasn't been able to fully trust anyone or open up to them. obviously she loves dan, but its clear that even when they're still "good" he doesn't trust her instincts or potential like he should, and when he spent those months gaslighting her the issue for her even beyond the fact that he shot malcom would have been that he didnt support or trust his wife. the appeal of lucifer is that from the beginning he identifies that she's smart and moral with good instincts. he trusts her, and strangely over the season she begins to trust him too! and then he runs off to vegas, etc etc lol. maze's primary loyalty probably isn't to chloe, but we see that to the best of her capacity she wants chloe to be happy -- she gets the prison warden killed, she "tries" and then really does listen to chloe venting about lucifer, attends the parent night chloe was stressed about, sets aside her grudge with lucifer to find chloe.

- in turn, chloe's best trait is her ability to accept people as they are and see their potential. of course she doesnt really have that many friends, but the people she is attracted to are all works in progress (dan is obvious, as are lucifer and maze lmao, but there's also ella who confesses something very personal and scary to chloe and gets a hug in return, and even charlotte who chloe's had clashes with both as charlotte and Mom for years but still gets the benefit of the doubt.) maze does have to change when she comes to live with chloe and trixie, but we see trixie grow up heavily influenced by maze in ways that makes it clear that chloe must genuinely like maze, or those influences like the handshake and the passion for gore and the knife training wouldnt have been allowed. we know that the reason maze is so loyal to lucifer is that he was the first person to ever accept her for who she was unconditionally, without shame or judgment. we see that for lucifer chloe is that person, especially because she sees his potential for growth just as she sees maze's. because she doesnt have preconcieved notions of what they're supposed to be she only sees them as people going through a difficult period of growth and supports them as best she can: reminding maze that they're friends, worrying about her in canada, trusting her with trixie who is the most important person in chloe's life.

- of course, chloe and maze have lucifer and linda but narratively lucifer and linda become so much MORE for chloe and maze. the show sunk linda/maze lmao but linda's clearly the adult maze cares most about just as lucifer is chloe's. and for both in s3 this person they each place so much of themselves into suddenly hurts them and they both spiral. i think there was real potential for chloe and maze to become each other's support and develop into a really steady, enduring friendship in contrast to the chaos of their individual romances (you will NEVER convince me that triangle was about amenadiel rather than linda lmao.) even post s3, they don't really address that maze really hurt chloe by pushing her towards pierce, and that chloe hurt maze by lying to her. i really think there could have been a lot of growth from maze going back to living with chloe and trixie after making full ammends and chloe realizing that actually, yes she can deal with this and it isn't that scary and then the tragedy of her maybe missing her shot with lucifer becomes more stark. we see chloe and maze teaming up in the first episode of 5A but then they blow that up too! i get that chloe needs space and its clear they're both using the other as placeholders for the people they really want, but there's no reason that they couldnt have come back together later and re-established their friendship on screen. obv they wouldnt work together after lucifer comes back, but to me this is where i believe they should go back to living together. without that, maze's connection to trixie in terms of what they can show on screen becomes tenuous and chloe's home life just becomes less interesting/worthwhile to see bc it'd just be her or maybe her with trixie. without that, it feels like we just see a lot of chloe either at work or in relation to lucifer (bc thats the best bang for your buck in terms of interaction!) we do get to see maze with linda, which is nice, but idk just feels like a step back from early s3 when maze felt more embedded in a community of people who liked, accepted, and cared about her wellbeing.

- i think one of the issues is that chloe and maze's friendship might have seemed like a knock off of their "main" relationships with lucifer and linda bc they have similar dynamics with them, but idk! there's a sense of fun that we get from their friendship that we dont really see from the main pairings because those are so serious and passionate and the main mechanisms by which the 4 grow so there isn't as much room for the lighter stuff. i know i said that chloe sees the potential for growth but she's not really pushing maze to talk about her feelings. she's doing the dishes maze won't, smiling at maze and trixie's handshake, shrugging off the fact that maze is throwing knives at their rented walls. maze and chloe create space for each other to be seen as themselves, good or bad, in ways that linda and lucifer can't for whatever reason. they don't really push each other, just let the other person be. it wouldnt be the ideal dynamic if they were the only person in each other's lives, but i think its vital to have someone in your life who can, in chloe's case, gently push you outside of your comfort zone and in maze's case offer acceptance, friendship, and trust.

idk this is just going in circles as i repeat the same points over and over and over but i really wish they had put more thought into sustaining the maze and chloe friendship throughout s4 and s5 because it would have brought out notes in both of them narratively that i think are lost otherwise. also its just sad for trixie that someone who was basically part of her family who she was living with is just...not there anymore and that's never addressed. : (

[tg-headcanons]

Hi hi hi!!!! Still doing headcanons? Any chance we could have a hidekane headcanon where they found themselves taking care of orphaned ghoul and human kids alike? Like they thought it’s just temporary but turned out they cared for these kids? Takes place after root a but everyone survived the anteiku raid please? I need them found family alive! And be the extended family of these kids.

Bonus if they call kaneki maman and hide papa or something.... thank you so much for indulging me!

C H I L D R E N! I’ll be putting this in The Ghouls Are Alright AU to better flesh out how I plan on eventually writing it

This all goes down when Hide and Kaneki are about 27, they’re more stable and ghouls are in the process of being decriminalized, but it’s still such a shaky peace and there are still ghoul and human groups fighting eachother. A vaccine that can alter ghoul diets to accommodate most human foods is out, but many ghouls stay away from it, fearing it being a trap

It’s actually Banjou who brought the kids to Anteiku. He shows up with two seven year olds and explains that one is the son of a member of what’s left of Aogiri that was killed and the other is the daughter of some humans that were eaten. He rightfully doesn’t trust the foster system with a ghoul kid or Aogiri with the human kid, but somehow the two bonded a bit at the Aogiri base and shouldn’t be separated. Yoshimura took them in and was supposed to be the one raising them

Hide, now a peace keeper and Kaneki, now a teacher, are still extremely close with the Anteiku ghouls and take some time off to help the kids get adjusted. The cafe has never had kids this young there before, much less a human one, and they want to make sure they’re alright.

The human girl and the ghoul boy are distrustful of the group. They hide out in their room and don’t really talk to the ghouls who ask them questions, so Hide tries. It takes about a week for them to open up, but they end up latching onto Hide first as Single Adult They Will Accept Food, Help, And Affection From. When Hide introduces Ken to them, they open up to him too since if he’s this guy’s husband he must be nice too

It starts out as babysitting. Hide and Kaneki keep the kids clean and entertained and get the ghoul boy to get his Lets Not Eat People vaccine. The two of them end up sleeping over at Anteiku most nights to comfort the kids if they have nightmares. After awhile of this, they realize that they’re practically already their parents and don’t want to imagine a future where they aren’t, so they ask the kids if they’d like to be adopted, to which they wholeheartedly agree

Hide’s dads help them with adjusting the kids to a new home since they had done the same for their son. Stuff like getting them a therapist and a plan for school that lets them call their dads when they need to. They also get help from other ghouls since neither of them know what raising a ghoul kid entails

They thought the ghoul would be difficult, but he’s actually pretty calm. Aside from eating raw beef, hanging from tree branches by his Bikaku, and climbing everything in sight, the boy isn’t much different from human kids. In fact he’s probably the easier kid since he can be calmed down with kagune cuddles and purrs from Kaneki

The girl is more chaotic. Her favorite thing to do seems to be chasing lizards and throwing rocks at cars. Many people mix up which kid is the ghoul and which is human because she bites people constantly

Aunts Touka and Yoriko will babysit from time to time. The kids are always dropped off with new clothes and a new toy since they have lots of money and no children of their own. The only downside is that Touka taught them all the curse words

Kaneki works at the school they go to, so he can keep an eye on them. He makes sure that their teachers do not allow the boy to be bullied for being a ghoul

When the family is out Ken will wrap kagune tendrils around the kid’s waists like built in child leashes to keep them from scaling buildings as they’ve shown several times, they can absolutely do

Since the boy is used to playing games with other ghoul children using kagune, they made the girl a sort of plastic shell she can clip onto her shoulder and manuever with handhold at the end. With the fake Koukakou she can play them with him

Hide already Wears terrible caps and Cargo shorts, he was born to be a dad. They call him papa and ABSOLUTELY call Kaneki mom, earning Ken the title “honorary milf” from his friends

They’re trying so hard to get the girl to stop eating grass. Nothing is working. Why is she doing that.

Hide keeps a little shrinky dink the kids made him in his pocket when he goes on dangerous jobs for good luck

[tea-with-cinnamontoast]

family.

[A/N: E. this is the nhs family day au thing,, i actually like it wow-]

"Ugh, family day. Stupid 'Family Bonding' day," the puple-haired teen mumbled, cleaning up his room. The same thing every year, Norrisville High had a 'Family Bonding' day where the students are supposed to bring at least one person from their family to school and apparently, bond. Howard said there was a bazaar, lots of games, and many yummy food. Randy didn't know, because he never participated. His dad divorced with his mom, and his mom is too busy working, that he never joined.

He always wanted to, he admitted. Randy wanted a time with his family, but he drifted apart from his mom and lost contact with his dad. The teen imagined laughing with his parents, playing ring-toss and winning prizes. He imagined himself eating cotton candy and making funny faces with his parents in the photo booth. He wanted to have fun and 'bond', as the school said it, and have the brucest day of the year. But, no. Randy was the only child of two adults, adults that Randy barely even talk to these days.

"Never once have I even joined, because of some stupid business mom always does," the boy grumbled to himself, taking his books away for tomorrow is Saturday. In worse cases, Randy would think that his mom was just avoiding him. He hated Family Bonding Day. He hated not being there. He hated not having fun. He hated not having a proper, fun and close family. To be honest, Randy didn't know if it was illegal to come in without a family, yet he was too embarrassed to try. He didn't want to be known as 'the shoob with no parents' cause that's how sad being a freshman is. Once you got a name, there is no coming back.

Done cleaning up with his bits and bobs, he grabbed the Nomicon and put it by his table, having a kind of feeling that the book was listening, but Randy shrugged the thought off and sighed. "Welp, another Family day, another full-day of playing Grave Puncher in my underwear, I guess," the teen begrudgingly went up to the top bunk and rested his eyes.

-- + --

"Wake up, ninja," a stern, yet soothing, voice called onto Randy. "We are going to be late." It took a while for the newly woken up boy to register the sound. Then it occurred to him, the source of the voice was from his own mentor, Nomi. The teen groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He yawned and saw Nomi with her gorgeous red hair in a, surprisingly, modern attire. Her hair was tied in a pony tail, yet some of her hair is still loose. She used a black shirt, with the nomicon pattern in it, and black pants. She also wore red shoes.

The boy looked over her shoulder and saw Satoru sitting on his sofa, resting his head and closed his eyes. He used a ponytail for his hair, red shirt with a Norisu Nine symbol and black pants. The First Ninja peeked his eyes opened for a bit and saw Randy awake, stretching his arm and walked over to the boy. "Come on, get ready. We are going to walk there soon," he urged, the boy nodding in response and quickly got ready.

Up in his normal clothes, the three went outside Randy's house and walked. The siblings talked and laughed as the boy silently listening, excited, yet curious, of where they were going. "Hey guyss, it'll be bruce if you tell me where we're going. Ooh! Training maybe? What am I going to learn today?" the teen asked the adults. "You will know when we will get there," Nomi answered smiling, which triggered Randy's curiosity even more. The boy fake-pouted as Satoru chuckled by his side. This'll be interesting.

All Randy knew was that they were heading uptown, where the malls, McFist Industry, Norrisville High, and other McStores lie. Maybe they were heading to the park? Oh! Maybe they're gonna shop together? The boy thought hard, wanting to know where they were going. It was rare for the two to spring out of the Nomicon, so maybe this is an emergency of some sort, where they have to train and teach Randy new stuff. It was exciting.

But when the teen got there it wasn't what he was expecting.

-- + --

To say he was surprised was an understatement, Randy was filled with a few feelings. Shock, curiosity, confusion, and posibly... happiness? It was mixed up and the boy didn't know what to expect. He was in front of the school. On Family Day. Without a family. Well, the last one was debatable, the two adults beside him we're like family to him, closer than his bond with his own mom. Which isn't supposed to be a good thing, Randy guessed.

"Why... are we here?" the boy asked, looking at the blue and yellow banners all over the place. The ribbon on the school were put up high, with the writings "HELLO PARENTS, WELCOME TO FAMILY BONDING DAY!!" written messily by one of the students using yellow paint. The outside was full of people, from adults to their children, from the teachers to the other staff. The place looked fun and cheerful, like there isn't a prison of an ancient evil sorcerer under it ('Which would be great if it wasn't literal,' Randy thought).

"Nomi overheard your predicament, so we thought it would be... bruce if you could come here," Satoru answered, the red head nodded. "But my parents aren't here and..." Randy said, not yet catching on the wind. The two raised their eye brows. 'Oh,' the boy realized. "You two are..." he tried to say.

Tears started swelling up in his eyes, but the others didn't notice. They were too busy looking at the well-decorated school, and Randy could appreciate that. Despite feeling the nerve to break down and say thank you in front of everyone, he decided that the best way to cherish the day is by giving the not-from-the-present sibling the best time of their 800 year-old life. But he couldn't stop the urge to hug the two, and so he did.

It took a while for Satoru and Nomi to register what the juice happened, but returned the hug and embrace the boy. Excitedly, Randy dragged the two past-ninjas inside, past the crowded place. The boy looked overjoyed and is jumping everywhere like an excited puppy, pointing everywhere and listing the things he wanted to do. For the two siblings though, it was a new sight.

They never saw most events that happened in the school from a book, mind you, so they were fascinated, but the two kept cool. "Not like the last time we visited eh, brother?" Nomi smiled and Satoru nodded. To be honest, Nomi was as interesting as her brother. Hidden well, she was amused at how far humanity came from her time.

"Randy! You're here?" a voice, the purple-haired teen recognize everywhere, called from wherever, running and panting towards him. "But I thought you... you know." Randy understood the silent phrase. 'Don't want to be seen without a parent'. The lanky teen just shrugged and answered with a simple "Yeah."

"Ah, Wienerman, such a wonderful time to meet again," Satoru greeted from behind, with Nomi came with a bit of resentment. The girl do not like Howard. He was selfish, mean, and overall not a good friend, but Randy needed his bro, and Nomi could understand that. But still, that doesn't mean she liked him and the feeling was mutual.

Satoru, on the other hand, liked (liked, mind you) that Wienerman kid. His friendship with Randy reminded him of his own with Plop Plop, and that was nice to see. Nomi didn't know what her brother saw on the orange-haired boy, but decided not to ask. Howard saw the two and gasped for a while, and Randy sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, they're posing as family," the tall teen confirmed.

"Well, bruce to see you again, First Ninj," Howard greeted back, grinning. He always liked the First Ninja and Plop Plop, they were cool, especially when the two teen went back in time. "Please, call me Satoru. Satoru Norisawa," the ninja replied. Nomi joined them, Randy winced a bit. He knew their resentment and that they would never get along. Howard addressed the redhead with a simple "You."

Nomi didn't answer nor greeted the boy, they just stared at each other, and Randy wondered which one hated the other more. It was a bit too intense for the teen's comfort, and Satoru catched his discomfort. "Nomi..." her brother started. "Howie! There you are!" someone called from behind, stopping Howard from his glaring contest.

"Randy! Great to see you here!" Howard's dad, Mort Wienerman, came. He later acknowledged the two adults and smiled, though he looked sort of confused. "And you must be Randy's..." he reached his hand for a shake, but he couldnt finish the statement. "Family," the teen answered simply. And he wasn't lying. "Nomi Norisawa, and my brother, Satoru," Nomi introduced, shaking the other's hand. "Mort Wienerman, family from Japan?" Howard's dad asked. Randy took this one, "Yeah, you could say that."

Nomi inspected the man in front of her, and concluded that this is Howard's father. Behind him, a girl with the same fantastic orange shade of hair walked towards them. "Nice to see that Randall can make it, for once," the female said, not looking up from her phone ("It's Randy! It's always been Randy!"). "I'm going to get some food, see you later," the man informed them. "Dad, can I stay with Cunningham?" Howard asked, and Mort nodded.

"So what do we start with first? I'm leaning to food, but I'm also thinking about games," Randy started, walking with the group. He wanted the two ninjas to have a time of their life, and he needed to be good. "I vote food," Howard said. "Of course you do. How about you two?" the lanky teen asked. "We have never been here, do you not remember?" Satoru answered, his hands crossed behind him, looking at the long food stands and games.

"Right. We're going to the game section!" Randy announced like a pirate captain and pointed, walking towards the games.

-- + --

"Haha! You are going to lose, dear brother!" Nomi exclaimed to his brother, the two playing skeeball. Randy laughed and watched with fascination. "Not if I beat you first, dearest Nomi," Satoru shot back, focusing on the game. The purple-haired teen didn't know if it was the "800 year old ninja knowledge" thing or that they practiced (which is unlikely...) but the two we're super skilled and evenly matched, both of them hitting the bullseye with every ball they had.

The game keeper watched with wide eyes, and others started coming, too. They watched the two spar it out in the game, as the two focused on the hole. The siblings finally stopped when they have no more balls, and deemed themselves the winner. There was a competitive glare between the Norisawas for a while, but it boiled down into laughter and enjoyment. Randy loved every second of it.

Randy loved they way they were just... here. Wow, even his mortal, easier-to-be-here mom couldn't be in this spot right now, yet two from-the-past siblings managed to be there. For him. The teen loved the way they would laugh together and take care of him, occasionally being an 'actual' parent just for him to be safe. He love the way they were open and fun, and would do anything to make Randy happy. He just loved them. They were like his own parent figure. Like a family.

Nomi's giggles and Satoru's chuckling filled Randy's heart with joy, and they decided to buy some food. The two never tried 'modern' food before, and for that reason, the teen wanted to pick the best food for them. "So Howard, name the best food here," he whispered to his biffer, who was munching on some chips. "Well, Cunningham. I think I would choose corndogs, then top it off with some cotton candy," the short boy answered, cheese from the chips smeared his mouth.

And so he did. The freshman bought some corndogs and shared them with his best friend and, admittedly, his family. They were peacefully laughing, when a giant explosion can be heard. "Seriously? We we're having fun and a monster comes?" Randy mumbled under his breath. "Go, Ninja. We will be here if you need help," Satoru assured. The teen nodded and ran to the restroom, leaving his teachers and biffer alone.

The boy used his mask, flashing lights and black ribbons covered him. After all the lightshow was done, he ran out of the stall and smoke-bombed his way in. "Smoke bomb! Hey, monster! Seriously!? On Family Day?! Who would even-" before he could finished his sentence, the stanked one attacked. The 'corrupted' one looked different, it was too robotic for a human, but too emotional for a robot. The Ninja remembered fighting a staked Viceroy creation, but this wasn't the same.

It's eyes stared into Randy, causing uneasiness. The teen didn't know how or why this one got stanked, but the fight sure wasn't easy. And yet, something about its... shape is recognizable. The creature had a bull's head and a human body, not a very good look on anyone, to be honest. The boy racked up his name, thinking about his classes. It was hard, since he zoned out most of his scholar studies. Then he realized.

"You're a, um, Minator? How do you say it's shoob name... Oh yeah, uh, Minotaur!" the Ninja shouted it's name. 'Names have power,' he recalled from a movie. Randy heard about this nasty piece of work, actually, he heard of the actual one not a half robotic one. Apparently, some lady from Ancient Greece decided it was a great idea to make a child with a bull. A honkin' bull. The boy remembered a few parts of the story, when explained in his history class (talking about Greece and its lush mythology), and remembered the hero Theseus.

But he wasn't fighting just any Minatour shaped robot. He was fighting a stanked one, and those are bad news.

Not looking at the Minotaur coming towards him full speed after a fun, and totally not destructive, rampage around the school, all Randy can remember was flying. It would've been great if it wasn't a dream, yet it wasn't, and the Ninja is plunging in super speed into his death. But he didn't feel the ground. Which is weird, maybe he died? "Got you, Ninja," Satoru's voice called from behind the mask.

The teen opened his eyes and stood up, watching the scenes. There were quick movements here and there, the robot getting slashed slowly and steadily, but the creature wouldn't go down that easily. Gradually, it rose up, dodging Nomi's (now in a mask) attacks and charging on the girl. She was growing restless and retreated, then united with the male ninjas.

"This creature... cannot be fought alone," the girl summarized. They planned an ambush and charged, grabbing their katanas and other weapons. Skilled in hand-in-hand combat, Satoru grabbed a katana. More skilled in ranged attacks, Nomi pulled out a bow and arrow (which isn't very ninja-y you might think but holy cheese she's good). Skilled in a more street fighting type of combat, Randy grabbed a stick (or a pole? The teen called it the "Ninja Smacking Stick!").

They fought and fought, slashed and slashed, stabbed and stabbed. Randy kept calling the bull names (his mouth can be as demonic as the Tengu, I swear to the Norisu Nine-). But nothing seems to work. Until, Satoru stabbed it's heart. "When a great warrior strikes you down, it would be best to stay down," Satoru quipped.

Maybe he already figured out where the stanking was or he just accidentally did it, green smoke left the robotic body and went underground, back to the Sorcerer. The three smoke-bombed away and appeared in the field with their normal clothes. Some witnesses said that they saw three warriors. Howard caught up with them and said, "Oh Cunningham! You should've seen the bull-thingy's face when you called him names!" Nomi thought it would be more suitable if he asked if Randy was okay, but then again, this is Howard we're talking about.

Howard needed to go, and Nomi hid her relief. She couldn't stand any more seconds with the short boy and would've already strangled him if he wasn't Randy's friend. The purple-haired teen decided to go to the photobooth and take some pictures together. Free of any worry, they made funny faces and shit-eating grins, ended up laughing together. It was getting dark, and the bazaar/carnival sort of thing is destroyed anyway, so they decided to go home. Watching the sunset, Randy appreciated the moment, though there was a feeling of guilt.

"Hey, guys? Thank you for bringing me here and sorry for not being able to kill the robot alone. I shoobed this day for you all didn't I?" the boy hung his head low. He didn't see the head shakes and the smiles. "When a Ninja needs help, he can always ask for help," Nomi said softly. "It was, with no doubt, one of the best things that happened in the 800 years. It was very... bruce," Satoru smiled. The teen couldn't help but to grin.

Randy loved today. He smelled the fragrance of the flowers blooming as they walked home, calmly talking to his two mentors. Mentors that became family, not since today, but the teen felt they were family from the first. What did he learn today, Randy didn't know. But one thing's for sure: he has a family. He has a great best friend. He has an amazing job. What else can he ask for?

[wolftrapped]

                    THE PODCAST — DRINKING BUDDIES.

Drinking Buddies é um projeto independente que busca compreender artistas de maneira intimista sem recorrer ao escândalo e à invasão desrespeitosa, propondo-se à outorgar um espaço para justificativas, diálogos sinceros e correntes. Usualmente regada por bons vinhos — embora existam outras opções para convidados abstêmios — a entrevista consiste em um ritmo de conversa entre velhos conhecidos, sem tempo previamente definido ou obrigatoriedade de resposta. Detalhes de vida pessoal e a tão pública carreira se sobrepõem, criando uma nova perspectiva de indivíduos sob a constante pressão dos holofotes, humanizando-os.

TRANSCRIPT OF THE HIGHLIGHTS: Entrevistada da semana Abbadon de Rosas, inte e três anos, cantora e atriz. (@mosquinhainthewall)

So, not to be that kind of guy, but I feel like to know you personally, we should brush over your personal life. And that includes past relationships.Despite having dated a couple celebrities, I think your most recent and most high-profile partner was that one guy. So... you have dated the butcher. Girl, what the hell was it like?

A: It was like a roller-coaster ride, you get in very excited and you get scared halfway through, you scream a lot, you get your heart racing and you leave that shit shaking and wanting to puke for your own bad decisions and still wanting to do It again. It's fucking nuts, because he's a really charming person and he can really make you fall in love like right off the bat, but the guy is also an asshole who has a lot of issues and there is a point that people just can't take It anymore, the whole sex, drugs and rock n' roll It's too real to be good and It's fucking awful to see. He's good in bed, tho, I have to give him that. When he's not passing out drunk, he's a great boyfriend.

That was... wow. I think this has been the first time you have been so open about this, so I'm kinda honored. I think the glamorization of all those issues associated with success and music in the rock scene is very unnecessary. You can have hits and put out great work without falling into the cliché of the supposed demons that come with it all. I might be on the wrong here, but I don't think you necessarily have to sign a deal with the devil to make it. I can only imagine things got heated in a bad way, because such problems must have taken it's toll on you. And yet, you were together for a surprisingly long time. Not at once, of course, but you had that on and off again relationship. I assume it can be exhausting, emotionally speaking, at least. How did you cope? And why did you stay in on it so long? I mean, it sounds kinda toxic. And as you highlighted it, I assume the drinking was a major problem... how did you deal with it?

A: It's because everything already went to hell, so fuck It. He's going to be pissed off at me anyway, so might as well just say it for once. I'm not going to bash on him for that, there's a lot of fucked up shit going on and that has happened before that makes the whole thing make sense, but like there are other things that just make everyone around him be in a constant state of alert and It's tiring. Yeah, I'm not the easiest person to deal either, but like, even I got limits. Well, that's the thing, like when you love someone as much as I love him you don't want to admit that you can't help and that the whole thing is becoming something that's eating you alive, you don't want to say ‘enough’ because that means giving up, that means putting your feelings above someone else’s needs, but sometimes we have to. It wasn’t toxic and I know It sounds like something someone in a toxic relationship would say, but the thing about Dragan is that everyone thinks that he is the "butcher" for things that he's done to others when in reality the only person he's hurting is himself, he just doesn't see nor understand how that can affect people around him. It's fucked up? Totally, I won't deny it that it got to the point where my parents stepped in and where like 'maybe you should spend some time in Argentina and just step back' but it wasn’t like a toxic or abusive thing where I didn't knew what I was doing. I don't think I dealt with that, because, like, there's no stopping someone with a drinking problem, they won't just put the bottle down and listen, you just have to be there and try to make them see and, well, take care of them after.

So, tiring, you say? Why is it tiring? What is tiring? What happened, if I might inquire. Well, if we really analyze it, no one is actually easy to deal with. We are complex beings with even more complex emotions, so I guess the best we do is just try and navigate feelings and situations in the less crappy way possible. But sometimes, we are driven to the extreme and that makes it very hard to take control of certain situations. I guess what I'm trying to say is that mental health sometimes requires a little bit of what might seem like selfishness, but it's actually not. I mean, you can be empathetic and sympathetic, compassionate even, but people shouldn't expect you to put your needs aside all the time just to think about others. In order to actually be helpful, you must be in a good place about your own feelings, so it doesn't become a vicious cycle of resentment and problematic situations, you know? So I get what you're saying. Besides, if we really weigh things... you're pretty young. Not a kid, of course, but rather young when compared to him. You shouldn't put your health and your youth aside to try and nurse a dysfunctional adult back to good shape while wasting yourself in the process. Love is as much about letting go as it is about being there for someone else. So if you say it wasn't toxic, I believe you. As an outsider, I might not have the full picture, so I can't step in and say you're wrong about how you see the things you went through. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been, to watch someone dear slowly waste away, you know? I guess with alcohol and any other addictions, really, it’s kinda complicated to make the person see how damaging that habit is. I guess they don't see themselves in bad shape. I think at this point, it's only fair to assume you saw the worst of it, as you said you took care of him during his drunken haze. How was it for you? Where did you get the strength to do it?

A: The whole thing, I guess. Because you're constantly thinking if that person is going to do stupid shit because he's high or If he's high because he's about to go into a depressive episode, and the later it’s not really his fault, you can't really blame someone for, like, trying to cope and just kill what's killing them, but for someone who's around and who's emotionally involved in that process, not knowing can be tiring. I don't think really the age It's a factor, I've been in Hollywood for so long that I can tell you that having a relationship with someone I loved, fucked up or not, was the least of the things I did that can be put out as wasting myself. I'm really afraid that I haven’t seen the worst, because If that's true then it's really even more of a risk and it just breaks my heart. I have no Idea, never thought about It. And I'm being totally honest right now when I say I really didn't gave that much of a though on that when It was happening, because It's easier that way.

Yeah, I hear you. You did start on this business at a very young age, and had your share of trouble, with your image and your habits and all that pressure over your shoulders. You coming out on top of that situation and standing in a brighter and more hopeful place is kind of an statement that you can get out of harms way. But having been there, at rock bottom might have given you a different perspective in that whole situation. Tell me... did your experiences made ir more difficult to be involved in it? I mean, I can only imagine you must have felt dragged back into something you were just getting out of. Also, I would like to reinforce that any questions that make you feel uncomfortable, just give me a heads up and we'll move on. This a conversation and in no way I would like to seem intrusive. And on a brighter note... let's be a little intrusive, as well, because I'm simply human and I am curious in an almost voyeuristic way... how were the good times like?

A: Very young. I was a baby And it's not just that, when you're in Hollywood everyone that is around ends up affecting how people see you, like, I was 17 going into rehab for a sex addiction that I didn't have because people around me had a problem and everyone thought that I had a problem too, then. I would like to say that it made it easier, but I think that It definitely was difficult, it brings a certain anxiety every time shit goes down. But I didn't felt dragged, that's actually really a point, people often think that he was, like, a bad influence, like, making me do drugs or other stuff, when he wasn’t, he was very against people taking drugs and getting pissed drunk. A little hypocrite? Of course. Don't worry, I'm fine for now, I think It's the wine. And... it was great. As I said, roller-coaster, when you're on the top It's just the best feeling ever and he was a really sweet person.

I wouldn't say hypocrisy, I kinda get it. I mean, real friends wouldn't offer you drugs, and as a drug addict, it makes sense that he knows how dependent you get on those things and not wanting people he cares about to end up in the same situation. I have a friend who struggled once with addiction and he used to say that very same thing: people who care about you will never want you to go down on the same path as them, because they know how hard addiction gets and no matter how good the rush, it’s just not worth bringing loved ones down. I mean, junkies still harm people they care about, even though in a different way, but I guess in their thought process, it makes perfect sense to make that kind of damage control. Oh, it's good wine, I'm getting kinda tipsy as well. So, that's difficult for me: seeing him as a sweet person. With all the troubles you went through, I have no problems actually imagining you as very nice. And to be honest, I'm delighted to see that you actually are. When it comes to Dragan, however, it's nearly impossible for me to look at him an think 'oh, there goes a nice dude'. I guess it must have something to do with how he is usually pictured in the media but, to be honest, he kinda paints those images himself, with all the reckless behavior, the aggression and the sexual scandals... and his infamous birthday party, of course. I can only assume that must have been another complication, since he is very evasive and closed off to the point of getting violent, whereas you're really open about most things. Did it cause some clash of opinions? How did you manage the public image issues?

A: I get It, I really do, but it's hard not get angry towards It when the person Is getting angry saying that he doesn’t have a problem and then be like 'Yeah, but you can't do this or that because then you will have a problem', It just makes you sigh and go like ’oh, please, just don't’. But he is. He is lovely when he's not having cameras shoved on his face. Well, thank you, It's good to know that I'm not being mean, people tend to say that I look mean. It's just... he tries really hard coming off as not caring and sometimes he can be an asshole, I mean it, the biggest asshole of all, but most of the time he is this great guy that even when you say shit will just help you anyway and try to be kind. And he has the best date ideas and getting away landscapes. A lot. But It is just another thing that we worked around, like I don't mind paparazzis, but he does, so I know that I'm not dragging him to, like, Four Seasons or whatever when I know It's going to cause him anxiety. And It's just common sense I guess.

Well, the people who say you're mean clearly haven't made the smallest effort to actually know you. And don't worry, if I come off as flirty, let me warn you that I am very much gay. So I'm totally not hitting on you now. I guess having a personality and standing up for yourself might come off as mean nowadays, buck fuck people who say that, honestly. I mean... still hard to believe, even with you saying he is nice and all that, I still have a hard time believing he would not try to get me killed for posting this interview, you know? You said it yourself: he'll most likely get angry, and publicly, that doesn't tend to end up well. Getting dark here again, so I'll try to mix things up. Still relationship wise, I have to ask: sex stuff. How was it? Don't judge me, you've seen the butcher and I speak for the people saying I would like to know how was that.

A: Oh, thank you! Well, don't worry, I'm used to coming off as flirty, I know how It's like. I have a friend If you're single, I'm trying to set him up with someone with actual decency. He's not, maybe he'll say something about It If asked and It might get a little heavy, but like It's only because as you said, he is very closed off...And It isn’t your fault, the most likely one to end up with the fault It's me, preach. Oh... I've seen the butcher, alright. You know when people tell you that someone is really good at bed and has a big dick and you don't believe them and then you find out it's actually better and bigger? That's how It was like.

Oh, if you're talking about your co-star, we know you two dislike each other and we'll talk about that in the next section of the interview. If not, thanks anyway, but I have been happily married for a couple years now. God, this is getting racy. I won't even ask anymore because we have to keep things at a bare minimum not safe for work. But well, I guess now the internet would be driven wild: theories that the butcher has a big dick have been confirmed first-hand by his ex-girlfriend. On that note... You've seen the butcher. Not the naked man, the song. Some people say it's about you. Some people speculate many of the songs he wrote are about you, which is an interesting thing to say, since the man can get really poetic. I mean, at least lyrically, he is very versatile, being able to write the most sexual things one minute and switch to the most deep and depressing words the other. I guess what I'm trying to say... can you confirm or deny you're the subject in that piece of music? Because said theory also sparked rumors that you two have been a thing longer than the public eye knows, with some even daring to say he started a physical relationship with you before you were a legal adult, which is controversial, to say the least. I really have no formed opinion on this, since those comments came after a few interpretations of the song, which can be a little absurd, with some claiming is about taking a girl's virginity (said girl would be you, in their version of the facts), some saying it's just about sex with no deeper meaning and some more radical individuals claiming is about a serial killer.

A: No, I'm not talking about Florian, and he doesn’t dislike me, he hates me. Oh, that's cute, my parents are happily married for so long that I'm sometimes ashamed that I don't have a long-lasting relationship. Well, I can assure you that things only get more NSFW, so It's better not to ask... I don't know about that, like, he never told me anything about writiing for me, so I can't really be that much of a helping hand on this matter, but the whole underage thing is not true. I will let recorded for further actions that I did not slept with Dragan while I was underage, you can rest now internet avengers. And I do think It's about sex with no deeper meaning, but I don't know, I didn't wrote it. How that fuck is that about a serial killer? That doesn’t even make sense! That song is clearly about sex. Like the other song that it's about oral sex, there's no deeper thing, that's it. It's about sex.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

[ohifonlyx33]

so I genuinely can’t tell if this book thinks it’s Christian or not.

So it had a pretty cover, an enticing title, and I didn’t think too much about it before I bought a used copy for a few bucks. I wanted something fun and easy to read. Young adult has a lot of fun genre-concepts. So I thought this would give me some ~illuminati stuff. Here’s the blurb

Shortly after 17-year-old Maren Hamilton is orphaned and sent to live with grandparents she’s never met in Scotland, she receives an encrypted journal from her dead mother that makes her and everyone around her a target. It confirms that her parents were employed by a secret, international organization that’s now intent on recruiting her. As Maren works to unravel the clues left behind by her mother, a murderous madness sweeps through the local population, terrorizing her small town. Maren must decide if she’ll continue her parents’ fight or stay behind to save her friends. With the help of Gavin, an otherworldly mercenary she’s not supposed to fall in love with, and Graham, a charming aristocrat who is entranced with her, Maren races against the clock and around the country from palatial estates with twisted labyrinths to famous cathedrals with booby-trapped subterranean crypts to stay ahead of the enemy and find a cure. Along the way, she discovers the great truth of love: that laying down your life for another isn’t as hard as watching them sacrifice everything for you.

But I quickly realized it’s about angels and demons. Which immediately puts it in the realm of religion. Which immediately puts it in the spotlight for doctrinal critique. And while it’s utterly ridiculous, it’s evident, at least to me, that the author is trying to tow the line with creative license. She makes up all this stuff about a "clan” of angels living here on earth to fight demons and the rules they have to follow. But she also has (a few) facts that make it feel like she’s trying to acknowledge that angels are not just ~magical beings. It’s clearly stated that demons are fallen angels. Good and evil exist. Angels are good and pure, demons are degenerate and evil. It’s not as outright nonsense as stuff that classifies angels as a monster creature along with vampires and werewolves (*cough*supernatural*cough*). But it’s still weird. And I’m not sure how I feel about it. It sorta feels like it’s written by someone who was raised as a C&E Catholic and read a couple articles on angelology/demonology and wanted to write something fun based on religious “lore” while appealing to young girls who like Twilight.

The main problem I have with the book is that it’s “main romance” seems to be an angel and a human. Big nope for me. Of course, the author states that the angel has to “give up angelhood” and become human in order for that to work, And that it won’t end well if he does. But the worst part is that the “relationship” consists of the main character, a usually level-headed girl, feeling inexplicably attracted to the angel--if I have to read one more line about her wanting to see him shirtless again... Ugh. That’s not love. And this attraction extends to him even when he’s cold (and downright rude) to her... and even when she thinks he might be a murderer. And he’s doing that whole “I can’t like you, it’s not allowed” thing without ever establishing why he would even like her in the first place. I just can’t take it seriously on the base level.

And all that illuminati stuff I was hoping for? Where is it??? WHERE IS IT?? I need something more interesting than “teenage girl inexplicably enamored with brooding angel” for half the book!!! 

[trainsinanime]

Miraculous Ladybug Car Headcanons

You didn't ask for it, I kinda didn't want to write it, but it's been spooking around in my head for so long now that I just had to get it out: Overly justified head canons for what car which Miraculous Ladybug main character would drive once they're adults (say early twenties). Of course it's still based on today (January 2020), because canonically in ML, time makes no sense and you shouldn't worry about it.

First off: As people living in a big European city with good public transport, there's a good argument to be made that they wouldn't drive (or at least own their own) cars at all, especially for Marinette, who would have to search ages for a parking space. I'm just going to ignore that here.

Adrien

The car: Jaguar I-Pace, black, possibly with some green on the wheels or the mirrors.

Why: It's a black cat! A big, driving pun! How could he resist? More specifically, I think Chat Noir has based at least some of his ideas of what it means to be a cool, suave super-hero on certain British spy movies, for better or worse, and it would make sense that his ideas of cool cars might be influenced by them as well. That would imply Aston Martin, but then again, cat, so Jaguar it is.

Here you might go for something actually cool, like the F-Type, and I could even imagine Adrien doing that… until the first time he, Marinette, Alya and Nino want to travel somewhere and he realises they won't all fit. Just imagine his face when he realises that he has to leave some of his friends behind. I'm fairly certain he'd insist that they all take the bus together instead, and he'd definitely trade in his car the very next day.

There would be other alternatives even within the Jaguar brand. I'm partial to the E-Pace, which tries to look cool but just ends up looking adorable, which makes it basically a Plagg or Chat Noir on wheels. But in the current climate conscious times, I guess it would make more sense for him as a rich guy to go the electric route. Plus, there's much more trunk space, which is very useful whenever he helps Nino move his DJ-ing equipment, or whenever he helps Marinette move fabric, clothes, mannequins, sewing machines, furniture, or all of those together in an indeterminate ball. And yes, he is genuinely happy and ready to drop everything and help Marinette move stuff whenever she asks, just to see her adorable blush and her beautiful smile. She's a really good friend, you know.

Rejected alternatives:

Any german car. Not many people know it (even though it seems blindingly obvious), but as someone who worked in the german car industry for years, I can confirm: German cars have no soul. They're good for the Gabriels and Chloes of the world, maybe, but they're all just so boring. I read at least one aged-up no powers AU story where Adrien had a quirky unusual Subaru Station Wagon (which I really like as a car idea for him), but then trades it for a generic Audi, and that somehow represents him growing up. Sorry, the rest of the story is great, but this? Nope. If growing up means driving Audis, then I never want to be old.

Lexus, Infinity or whatever: Why would you want to buy a japanese car trying to be a soulless german car? Could just as well go with the soulless original, or better yet, buy something fun to begin with.

Some Peugeot. It would fit because of cat pun and also french, but I think they're just not that exciting.

Any Tesla. I had a boss once who drove a Tesla. Spent every lunch break gushing over his car. Every single one. No offence to him, he was a perfectly nice person, but damn, that was annoying. So I have a strict "No Tesla Talk" rule nowadays.

Marinette

The car: Renault Twingo, first generation, pink or red.

Why: It's small, french, and thoroughly charming, much like Marinette herself. It's also going to be in her (or her parents') price range. Plus, the small size makes it easy to park, crucial when you don't have a giant estate like some people. And if she needs to move something really big, Adrien has made it very clear that she can always count on him. (She's a bit self-conscious about asking him all the time, but he never minds, and it is an opportunity for her to get him alone and have him smile at her) There's lots of other small french cars you could go with, but I'd argue that the first-generation Twingo hits the sweet spot between being recent enough and interesting enough.

Rejected alternatives:

The same car, but in red: I'm thinking that's too on the nose. But maybe if we assume that the car was once red, but then slowly bleached out to pink over time?

VW Beetle (old): Yes, I get it, but I already gave Adrien a car based on a pun, two is excessive. Plus, I personally think that it's just not that charming. On a more practical level, this is nowadays a historic car for enthusiasts.

VW Beetle (any of the two newer generations): Less historic, but also less charming, and getting to the thing where german cars have no souls that I mentioned above.

Renault Twizzy: I did consider giving her an electric option as well, but I don't really like any of them. The Renault Zoe would be obvious but boring. The Twizzy is quirky, but also rather pointless, at least for someone who already lives in a city instead of having to commute into it. If we're going that route, then I think the electric Vespa would be a better choice. We already know she's comfortable on motorcycles.

Actually, there are a lot of reasons why a Vespa or any type of scooter would be a better choice for her than a car. There are the obvious parts of being cheaper and using less parking space, but also consider the increased flexibility in chase scenes. Plus, it gives us lots more cute scenes where Adrien has to (or in his opinion, gets to) drive her to and from the discount yarn store, as well as scenes where she has to deal with him clinging on really tight to her on her scooter. But that's not the premise of this post, I guess.

Driving

Yes, Marinette is a bit air-headed and uncoordinated, but I really don't want to do old sexist boomer tropes. So let us instead focus on her miraculous ability to recover from whatever flailing she's gotten herself into. This is not always entirely consistent in canon, but it's definitely there. With the added benefit of a bit of growing up, we can assume that Marinette will get into all sorts of close calls that will scare her friends a bit, but that her car will remain entirely spotless (or as close to spotless as is possible in Paris).

Adrien, on the other hand, is chill, level-headed, focused, and rarely turns his music up loud, resulting in entirely uneventful drives.

Of course, that is in normal situations. In an emergency (such as needing to return to Paris ASAP because of a new Akuma), both will drive scarily fast but entirely accident-free. And it doesn't matter that Adrien has an order of magnitude more horsepower than Marinette: She will arrive there first. (That's if she is in her own car. If they had to trade cars for some reason, then she will show in detail exactly how much quicker the more expensive car can be.)

In costume, they're obviously not going to use their cars normally. But there will be situations of Ladybug in Adrien's car, or Chat in Marinette's car (weird, why does he know the specific way required to wiggle the old, busted door handle? Eh, best not to think about it). There's also a general understanding that they can always use each other's cars as cover in a fight. That, or as projectiles, or as power sources, or as a general source of spare metal and parts for more convoluted "Lucky Charm" plans. Even if they have doubts about whether the Miraculous Cure works. After all, neither of them may know that Adrien/Marinette is right next to them, but they do know for a fact that they won't mind if it's for a good cause.

The cars are also very useful as quick places to transform. You might say that they have windows, and that others might realise that something is up when one person enters the car and then a suspiciously similar looking person in other clothes leaves it. But remember the canonical rules: As long as there exists at least one possible view point in the vicinity, and one object or landscape feature of any size, so that a hypothetical observer at that viewpoint would consider Adrien or Marinette to be behind that feature, they're safe. Or if all observers who have been shown on screen are currently looking somewhere else.

(Personally, I'm fairly certain that there must be characters who know perfectly well that Marinette is Ladybug, and just never realised that it was supposed to be a secret.)

So, what do you think?

[studentlulu]

Disclaimer: Everything that I have written about is completely true and happened to me within the 2017-2018 year.  I wrote all of this as not only a way of coping with what has happened to me, but to come to terms with and helping me understand the difficulties and challenges I went through in the past two years.  I did not do this because I sought attention or for any other self-serving narcissistic purposes.  If you have read through this completely and have any questions for me or want to learn more, please feel free to personally message me and I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.  In addition, after you have read this through, if you feel like commenting, please leave only positive comments.  Please refrain from leaving any negative comments.

           My journey to college graduation has been a long and difficult one, full of twists, turns, and bumps along the way.  I entered into the University of California Irvine (UCI) as a Freshman in Sept. 2014 and fully intended to finish in Jun. 2018.  That would have been the plan if things had worked out perfectly well.  However, as we all know, things never go perfectly well, especially not with life.

           Sure enough, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer in spring during my junior year in 2017.  It was devastating news beyond comprehension.  I was so scared.  I was only 20! There were so much things I wanted to do!  I want to explore the world and I even planned to study abroad in Singapore that year!  I want to eat different cuisines from around the world! I want to do so much more! Now with this news, all of this has abruptly stopped!  Everything became dire uncertainty.  What do I do?  Do I have tomorrow?  How long? How do I tell everyone?  Who do I tell?  Most of all, how do I cope?  My mind went ballistic!  My family was by my side when I found out, and we promised that we would get through this together.

           We discussed treatment options with my doctors and decided that I should go through one round of chemo, surgery, recovery, and then one final round of chemo.  Each chemo round was four appointments and would require me to come to UCSF Medical Center.  Due to the rigorous treatment plan, it was decided that I would have to postpone school till I finished treatment and recovery.  It was a very difficult decision, but it was the only way to deal with the condition.  So, I contacted the Bio Sci School of Affairs Office and told them about my predicament, and requested to postpone my education and enrollment until further notice. Thankfully, they were quite understanding and informed me that they would readmit me back to school whenever I was ready.

           Chemotherapy left me tired, nauseous, moody, and grumpy. It also left me very cold-sensitive and UV-sensitive.  Starting with my second infusion of chemotherapy, my hair fell out.  I slowly became bald and I hated my look.  I loathed the fact of losing my stomach even more!  I love food! Without my stomach, how can I eat? What can I eat?  How can I go to school or go on with life without my stomach?  Of course, not to mention the unimaginable constant need of going to toilet!  After the pre-surgery chemo was done, I then had the surgery to remove my stomach in early October 2017.  I was hospitalized for more than two weeks for that procedure.  Recovery from surgery was extremely difficult.  I was not allowed to eat what I wanted nor as much.  I had to mentally force myself to ignore my hunger feelings as my brain needed time to adjust to the fact that there is no stomach to store food.  I had to eat ¼ the portion of a normal adult meal.  This proved to be arduous because I love food and love to eat.  In fact, when I was healthy, I could eat as many portions as I wanted and sometimes, I would finish others’ leftovers.  Wasting food is a crime, I believed that.  In addition, in Chinese culture, it was considered respectful and a sign of appreciation to be able to eat as many portions as you could.  I couldn’t do that anymore with a smaller stomach size. What if others who did not know about my condition became misinformed and thought I was eating less and being disrespectful?  With this new body, I totally resented the fact that I could no longer eat as much because I equated it as I would no longer able to enjoy food!  Recovery was very painful; and I hated the “heathy” but very bland food that I had to eat.  What is there to look forward to when I could not even enjoy the most basic thing in life: eating?  Life seemed bleaker at every moment passed.  Only the constant encouragements from parents and others kept me going, but barely without passion.

           Another chemotherapy soon went underway after surgery. This time around, my physical reactions were worse, and my mental stage sunk even lower.  I developed dry heaving.  I could not stop scratching my skin, I was extremely tired and fatigued, sometimes unwilling to leave the bed, and there were times I did not want to take in or even eat food because the mere sight of it made me ill.  Then, on Dec. 19, 2017, during what was supposed to be my second fusion of chemotherapy during my final round of chemo regiment, something went terribly wrong.  I went into anaphylactic shock due to negative reactions to chemotherapy.  I could hear my younger brother (chemo treatment center only allowed one relative staying with patient) franticly calling me, and I could barely hear my nurse called out “Code Blue” before I lost consciousness on the treatment chair!  When I faintly regained my consciousness, I felt heavy stuff on my chest.  I believed that it must had been my unconscious will to live that kept me alive.  Or perhaps the prayers from parents and my families had kept me alive.  Or perhaps it was not my time to die yet.

           I was extremely fortunate that I was under the care of the world-class doctors, nurses, and other medical professions at UCSF Medical Center, because they revived and saved me.  I woke up in the emergency unit after 4:30 pm with my parents on my bedside.  I had been out for at least six hours.  I wound up staying in the hospital for observations and treatments for two days. IV chemo treatment was discontinued after that; and the doctors prescribe another form of chemo treatment for me.

           I went back to school after completing treatment during spring break in April 2018.  I wanted to go back to school so badly for a change of venue and for a more “hopeful” environment.  A familiar place where I thought I had better control of life.  After all, I had been in a school environment all my life.  Ironically, as I started back to school, it was ending for many others.  As everyone else was enjoying their spring breaks, I was slowly readjusting back to school.  It felt weird to be returning to school towards the end of the quarter.  School was so quite.  I got new roommates who were very friendly though.  For that, I was grateful for their kindness.  

           I found it very hard to stay off social media and see everyone else’s progress.  I was supposed to be part of the graduating class of 2018 that quarter, but I couldn’t.  Facebook was the worst place because many of my classmates and friends were posting their graduation pictures.  I would read their posts or look them over and I would feel terribly inadequate afterwards because I was not to part of that graduating class which I had set my heart and my mind to be a part of.  I felt like a big failure.  I failed! That was the only two words that occupied my mind.  I fell into darkness.

           To prevent myself from feeling worse I tried my best to stay as far away social media as I could.  I would call and text my parents, often in tears, asking whether I could have done better or been better to graduate on time like everyone else. They would often reassure me that I had (a) done my very best, (b) that everyone finishes college at their own pace, (c) there’s no rule saying that I had to finish college in four years, (d) that I went through something extraordinary that most people could not comprehend, and (e) that I could reach out to medical professions or my trusted relatives or friends to seek their opinions.  To my parents, I stood up to cancer and I won!  Such accomplishment and my life are worth every bit of celebration!  I should be very proud of what I went through and had achieved.  Sometimes their comforts worked and made me feel better; but more often they did not because I felt that my parents were not me and could never understand what I had gone through.  Talking to my therapist and sometimes my cousin D (who was also a licensed therapist) temporarily helped me to sort through my feelings, as it seemed to be a safe place to open up and freely express myself emotionally.  

           However, no matter what, I still had to live with my new physical form.  I hated this new me: missing organ, patched up body, and no amount of time would ever restore it!    

           Summer rolled in.  It was much worse for me than spring.  During the summer I was trying to find employment while living on my own. The long periods of unemployment dragged me down to spiral back into the same emotional depression I faced in spring. I started to question my self-worth and believed that because I did not finish school on time, I was stuck here as a failure, forced to finish school late, or attempted to finish school now, while my classmates graduated and moved on with their lives.  I was stuck in a negative emotional spiral; and the worst part of it was that it was self-inflicted.  At that time, I didn’t see it, and couldn’t get myself out of it. It was a negative self-hatred cycle, one that I found comforting and validating in its own twisted sort of way because it was the one thing that was being truthful to me in my life.  I felt that everyone else, including my mom, stepdad, cousins, and friends, knew nothing about what I had gone through personally.  I felt like they did not truly mean what they said about being proud of me and loving me. Even worse, I had forgotten what a champion and fighter I had felt like completing chemo and cancer treatments. What I had gone through no longer felt like an accomplishment worth celebrating, but a laborious task that anyone could have done or gone through.  It was no longer impressive.  Instead of saying to myself, You went through something terrible and came out of it a stronger person, I found myself saying instead, So what you went through chemotherapy and finished your cancer treatment? Thousands of people do that every day. You’re nothing special.  YOU’RE not special but a failure!

           The negative self-hate caused me to cut off contact with loved ones, even my immediate family.  My mother tried very hard to keep contacting me and was concerned for my well-being.  Once, when she called me to ask me why I hadn’t spoken to her in a long time, I finally managed to choke out, “I don’t want to talk to you because I’m angry and I hate myself, mommy.  I hate myself and want to end it!  I don’t want to talk to you about it or let you know.  You would never understand!”  My mother would respond, “Your feelings are always yours and no one can truly feel exactly.  However, please note that you are loved and not alone.  We are here for you, always!  Just let anyone know that you are around or reach out to anyone you trust. That’s okay.  You had been so brave to go through so much in your young life. Every bit of your life is worth in solid gold!”  Of course, I could not listen to her. I cut her off and took her out of my contacts. That’s how deep I was in my own dark world!  Without me knowing it, Mom never gave up on me and had clever ways to send encouraging words to me.  Today, in my clear conscience, I cannot imagine the amount of anguish my mother must had in hearing her own daughter said she hated herself.  

           I ceased having social interactions with others because I did not want to be around others who, I saw and viewed, as not supporting me and my thoughts.  The few times I did speak with others I sometimes got into emotional outbursts. I wound up treating my mom and others as emotional punching bags, venting out my angers or more negative emotions on them.  At times, I would even text them to tell them that I found life unbearable and not worth living, and that I wanted to end my life.  My behaviors were so reckless but I was not in the right mindset to realize them. I was in such a deep depression stage and only focusing on all the terrible things.  I learned later that my suicidal threats made my mother go into emotional breakdowns and become physically ill.  God, what hell I had put my mom through!  I regret such awful behaviors!  If only I knew what I know now.  I am sorry.

           What finally pulled me out of that negative spiral for good was my witness in person to my mom’s unconditional love.  In September 2018, I came home for my follow-up doctors’ appointments.  My parents sat me down and had a heart-to-heart talk with me.  We talked about things and addressed my negative spiraling emotions.  My mother looked me in the eye and told me that she could not believe what I had said or even considered giving up on living.  “Life is precious,” she said, “please take good care of it, and always carry a grateful heart!”   Especially since my dad went through the same thing and so much worse, yet he never gave up and fought to the end.  He was a true fighter.  In addition, my mother’s boss has a daughter, in my age, who went through the same thing, but she never gave up.  In fact, she was now in Africa doing volunteer work. As we talked, I learned of the efforts my mom and stepdad made behind the scenes to keep me well.  I could see and feel mom’s passions for life and for me as she held back her tears.  I saw for the first time in person how my actions and words had deeply hurt her.  I could see how much my life meant to her, and I will always be precious to her and a part of her.  I could see how I had misunderstood my parents.  My struggles were their struggles, plus much more.  I’m a survivor and indeed I should be proud of it!  

           I decided that it was time to change.  I changed how I saw things and decided that I would only focusing on positive thoughts instead.  I changed my perceptions of my new body.  I shifted my focus on the bad things happened to me to how I can use my story to inspire others.  I changed my mindset about future outlook of my life.  God has given me many chances to live, that’s got to mean something.  I am intended to find my purpose in life. I will keep trying my best and never give up.  

It’s been two years since the initial diagnosis and over a year since I finished treatment.  I haven’t shared my story publicly until now because of many reasons, but mostly fear of criticism from others.  However, it is my life, and it is my story.  As time passes, I have gained more confidence and strength in myself. More importantly, I am here today because I have so many giants standing behind and supporting me.  I owe it to them, all of those unsung heroes, to share my story as an upcoming UCI Class of 2019 graduate.  And no, I did not graduate late, I graduated just right on time.

Acknowledgement and Thanks: I would like to thank my mom, stepdad, brother, and both sides of my family for their love and support during the difficult times in my life.  I would also like to thank Dr. Korn, Dr. Nakakura, Ms. Renee Wang, Nurse Lana Taran, Dr. Jaime Cohen, and the rest of the medical teams and staff at UCSF Mission Bay Hospital.  You are literally my life-savers!  At UCI, I would like to thank the Bio Sci Student Affairs Office for being very understanding of my situation, allowing me to take time off to recover, and allowing me to re-enroll again after I regained my health.  Thanks to Mr. Cheng Ko at the DSC Office for registering me with important resources on campus, as well as helping me get reacquainted and readjusted with school after I returned.  Thanks to Ms. Sheena Danesh for helping me find important resources to use when I first got diagnosed, such as the DSC, and when I returned to school. Also, thank you for helping me with the multiple doctors’ appointments that I had to attend.  I would also like to thank Ms. Adelí Duron and Jane Killer at the VSC for their support and understanding, as well as answering any questions I had about financial aid.  I would also like to thank Dr. Eldridge and the UCI Counseling Center for seeing me for the past two years since my diagnosis and upon return from treatments.  Thank you for providing me with a safe and secure place for opening up emotionally and tools to deal with my stress.  Finally, to the countless unnamed friends, people, and others along the way who helped me or motivated me along the way.  I could not have gone through this alone.  

Thank you so much.

Love,

LuLu

[alchemist-shizun]

So uhh I had a train of thought and I just really needed to let it out please note that this is very long so beware before you decide to click “read more” and yeah as for contents this is just really me venting about the fact that I’ve prevented myself from drawing since forever and I can’t really stand it any longer (there might be many mistakes but I don’t expect anyone to read this) really just ignore it

Fuck it fuck it fuck them i dont C a r e ™ I’ve had enough i can’t fucking believe they made me feel like this still to this day I haven’t even talked to them in years and because of them I’m still not over it so honestly fuck you elementary teachers and your stupid fucking way of twisting a child’s perception of thing on their way of shaping themselves cause you ruined a perfectly creative child is what you did

Okay so this dates back to, yes you read, elementary school but oh actually let’s get to kindergarten first

I was coloring a lion picture, I was like 4 but I still freaking remember it to this day, the teacher there told me I did it wrong and I didn’t understand why, I got scolded for fucking c o l o r i n g COLORS, I WAS F O U R it wasn’t like a colored a lion BLUE I used typical lion colors what do you want from me?

So I tried again, unsure of what to do, unsure of everything, I color it again, and as if nothing changed I get scolded again and you want to know what they had the courage to do? The fucking hypocrisy? They sent me to the part of preschool you can go when you’re like 2 or 3 TO SIGNIFY THAT I WAS STUPID and to make me feel ashamed of myself for something that I had no clue about cause nobody cared to explain what I did wrong

I still remember how fucking bad I felt, I might have cried too, I don’t know anymore

Fun fact? I recently heard someone else had the same experience

Now what the fuck? What the fuck? Do you know how impactful something like that is on a 4 year old child? Did you not learn how to treat kids in university? Fucking hell you should’ve studied this kind of things, how am I supposed to react to that kind of shaming?

And now let’s go to elementary school. Everything fucking SUCKED in the attitude of the two main teachers I had.

Basically in here you had to write your name, date, class, daily stuff basically on top of the page every time, and right under these things before you start writing or anything you have to do what in Italian we say “cornicetta” that I can literally translate with “little frame”

Basically it was a very tiny drawing you did and you repeated it horizontally so that you had some kind of frame on a single side of the page

And I was terrible at them. I don’t know, I didn’t have the hand of the artist™ what could I do about it? I was just 6. And my teachers? Batshit crazy. My Italian and history teacher in particular, she absolutely hated my drawings

Everything I did didn’t please her at all, the frames I made were always criticized and thank god I don’t remember all of her comments cause if I did I’d probably still be upset over them

There’s one in particular I remember: I think we were making a drawing for history, cause I remember drawing a cave and some people, so I might have been in second or third year. I had started to color it and my teacher came up, inspected it and said “ah it was actually a good drawing, too bad you had to ruin it with colors”

How am I fucking supposed to feel about that? Do I have to yell in joy and say woah you’re absolutely right I must bow to your genius. N O fuck you that’s what I was supposed to say! I wasn’t encouraged in the slightest.

She made me feel like shit and fucking laughed like she was pleased to fuck around with my sanity. Thank you very much you idiot now I’m terrified of drawing anything at all, this is what you created, you happy??

Not only she never gave me constructive criticism on my drawings, but she also insulted my handwriting over and over along with the one of some others, threatening us to go back to writing with the pencil instead of the pen like everyone else

Again, you can imagine how I fucking felt.

You don’t know how many afternoons I spent with my mother writing words in the exact manner my teacher wanted over and over because those were the sick punishments they gave us

Writing some words like 50 times

Sure, it can be practice, but God fucking damn it

I can understand when they said “hey you did a spelling error, how about you write this word like 20 times so that you get used to it” alright

But you don’t make a child sit for hours trying to fill entire pages of stupid senseless words making them feel even more ashamed and stupid than they already felt

It was dreadful for me and even my mother was pissed at that. Not that she didn’t criticize my handwriting either but she gave up after some time

Also, as if elementary wasn’t enough, we had a young teacher at catechism that dared to give us fucking homework LIKE THAT’S NOT EVEN A NORMAL THING none else in the world did that okay n o o n e

And she gave fucking marks, ofc my marks fucking sucked and I hated going there (my parents only made me go so that I could have done all the required things if I ever wanted to get married in church once adult)

Moral of the story, don’t trust catechism teachers if they’re like mine (also my parents hated her)

I don’t know when I stopped drawing, probably after elementary school, since I didn’t have to do those page frames anymore.

But with middle school came art lessons

Art lessons with the teacher I had meant no history of art at all for all the three years and only making art

I hated it, I sucked at everything, my drawing repulsion (if that’s a term I can use) grew stronger with all the years and the teacher I had also wasn’t professional at all so she gave marks based on how much she liked you

Despite all of this, there was a moment in first year of middle school where this teacher fell down the stairs and broke her leg, so we had a substitute: young, sweet lady that I instantly fell in love with

She made us do a project for a group of people we call “alpini” which is a particular group that helped in the war and fought in the north of Italy, in particular in the Alps.

I had a very artistic classmate, her mother was literally and artist and obviously I stood no chance against her, so I was like well I’m not gonna end up in noe place so, let’s just do this for fun I guess

I made this stupid little concept I had in my head, nothing special really, especially since I also drew people and I have no clue of how bodies work in art, but okay

Wanna know something?

I fucking won

I don’t know how, but I fucking won and I still have the prize

But then, the other teacher came back and everything was back to being shitty.

When it was time to choose highschool I was a bit scared cause my course would have had lessons of history of art since the first year and I had never had one while everybody else would have

I was afraid I wouldn’t have liked the subject

Let me tell you, it’s probably my favorite subject by now, and I’m at the last year. I was afraid I wouldn’t have been able to do anything with it, that if I liked history of art the only available universities where the academies that required you to have drawing skills

Then I came to know of the existence of the Cultural Heritage faculty and I couldn’t have been happier

But lately I’m still here thinking what if I actually tried to not listen to the people around me and practice my drawing skills ever since I was little?

I am so fucking sorry for myself because I lost a potential I know I could’ve grown to something probably very beautiful and I will never be able to see it bloom

And you know what? I don’t fucking care I’m so done with this feeling and I want to get rid of it so I don’t care if I’m 18 you can start whenever you want to do things

So I’m gonna start to teach myself how to draw after 18 years of my life and I’m going to see how it turns out and I will fucking stop being absolutely scared of picking up pencils

I’ll stop hearing my past teachers voices in my head saying it’s no use and that I should give up because they’re absolutely horrible and I hate them in particular

I don’t care that’s it this time I’m doing it, I don’t want to be conditioned by stupid people or be submissive anymore

And to those teachers, an honest and wholehearted fuck you, in your face.

[audreyannerp]

Pen Pals

(A roleplay between @askaudreyanne / @audreyannerp and @red-rad-and-rod .) It had been about a week since Audrey met J.C. and his siblings. It was kind of hard to miss them, given Lola seemingly bee-lined towards them during their stay at the park. She was grateful for her pooch’s detour, however, as the three proved to be good company (as did their father, who they had lunch with.) She wasn’t sure how long she should wait before emailing J.C., but figured a week was a long enough wait to not seem overly eager. She did originally intend to only send pictures of the dogs to show his sisters, but now she wanted to talk to him too. She decided to start slow, with a simple email. This is J.C., right? It’s Audrey, from Michigan. Here are some pictures of Lola in some flowers. She wasn’t supposed to be in them, but I just had to snap a few pictures before I got her out! Let me know how you three like them! She hoped asking for a response would lead the way to them talking about more than dogs.

- Ping! Oh, thank goodness, something to actually respond to! Surfing through a seemingly never ending list of ads for things he didn’t need was starting to get tiresome. A few clicks later, J.C. found himself searching through his e-mail. Hmm…junk. Junk. E-mail from Audrey- wait. E-mail from Audrey? … Ah, right! That was who he met over in Michigan when he and the family were over in Michigan! Man…even though they had only hung out for a little bit, he missed her. Her beautiful smile, her cute giggle…sigh~ Snapping out of his little lovestruck trance, he went ahead and read through the message, snickering a bit as he got a glimpse of Lola being a goofball. A short while later (mainly after Syd and Kat stopped squealing over the little pup), he sent back a reply: Yyyyup, it is! At least, that’s what people have been calling me for 23 years… Ahaha, I kid, I kid. 😋 What a little goofball! She’s such a sweetie. Syd and Kat seem to think so too, given the fact that they’ve been fawning over her for the past fifteen minutes or so. And reignited the whole “Mum, Dad, let’s get a dog!” debate, but that’s to be expected. How have things been over by you? - Audrey wasn’t the type to live on her phone or computer, so it was a good thing she had written a note to herself to check her email later. Upon coming home that evening and checking her notebook of reminders, she brought up her email and took a look. She chuckled at J.C.’s response and promptly began typing a reply, pleased he wanted to chat. (Or was at least acting like he wanted to, in order to be polite.) Ohhh deeaarrr XD I hadn’t intended to start a debate. Could you please tell them I’m sorry? Anyway, things have been pretty ordinary over here. Weather is still pretty nice, so I’ve been taking Lola on longer walks. She got a little over excited today though and ran into someone’s garden, as you saw. I was sure to tell her no… after I stopped laughing and taking pictures! XD So, how have things been on your end? - After hitting send, J.C. had to think…did it sound like he seem interested? Did he sound bored? Should he have added more emojis? …Nah, maybe that would’ve been a bit excessive. Maybe a little immature…who knows, maybe Audrey would have thought that Syd or Kat took hold of his computer. Now came the waiting game. He would’ve done a bit more internet browsing, if he hadn’t have been dragged outside by Syd for a game of football. That was probably a more productive way to spend his time, anyway. No real need to worry. (…) Later on, now relaxing with a cup of tea, he went back on and found a reply. Haha, I will! They’ve been getting that for years, but I’m sure they’d appreciate the regards. Glad to see the weather’s manageable. Kind of makes me wish I was back there; right now, we’ve had a couple of gales come through. Nothing too bad, but having to be stuck inside for most of the day. Plus side, it’s supposed to clear up soon. Oooooh, Lola, what’s your mum going to do with you? 😂 Kind of reminds me of this time when Syd was a toddler…she’d done the same thing with our next-door neighbour’s back garden. I’ll have to send the picture in my next e-mail, but the end result was her being held (gently, of course) by her overall straps by our neighbour’s sheepdog! - Audrey discovered his reply the following morning. While she sent her reply early, it was likely the afternoon over where J.C. was. Wish you were here for the weather? Are you sure you don’t just want to see me? HA! I kid. I kid. We barely know each other. Aaaanywaaaaay… A sheepdog holding a toddler? That sounds both hilarious and adorable! You have GOT to send me that picture! Let’s just hope karma doesn’t come back to bite me. Mom and Dad recorded EVERYTHING when I was a kid. They have soooo many VHS tapes in the basement. Photo albums too. For a non-photogenic child, they sure loved taking pictures of me. - Why did time zones have to be a thing? He could respond at ten in the morning, and it’d only be five A.M. over by her…ah well. Upon reading Audrey’s response, he couldn’t help but blush a little. Okay, yeah, part of it was the weather, but part of it was because he wanted to see her. Weeeeell, that would be a major plus, if I’m being honest. …Does that sound creepy? Jeez, I hope it doesn’t; virtual communication’s tricky that way. 😓. If it did sound that way, I do apologize! Guess, ah…guess I should get on with the rest of this reply. Heheh… Don’t worry, little me wasn’t exactly the poster child for being photogenic, either. Guess it must be a parent thing…mine were the same way. I’ve made sure to bury one of the albums that has the MOST embarrassing ones as deeply as I can in storage, but somehow they keep finding it. Speaking of ‘embarrassing’ photos… Ask and ye shall receive~ Not going to lie, her face still cracks me up; sort of like she’s saying “Curses! Foiled again!”

- Audrey was pleasantly surprised to see that J.C. seemed to enjoy her company as well. Aw, really? You’re sweet~ <3 Don’t worry; no creepiness detected! Well, you know parents and their magic able-to-find-stuff powers. You could search for something for hours and they’ll point to it right in front of your face! That photo is somehow more adorable and hilarious than I thought it would be! She really was a scamp from the very beginning, wasn’t she? Anyway, if you’re interested, maybe I could tell you a bit about myself and vice-versa? Make sure I’m someone you want to see again? - Oh, good! This was off to a great start~ Phew! Good, good. Just want to make sure, y’know? True, true. Heck, you could try to send something that you don’t want seen to…I don’t know, Antarctica…and they’d still manage to find it. Haha, yeeeeah; once she started crawling, it was all downhill from there! Sure, why not? I think it’s better one-on-one as opposed to doing it in front of a group, like on the first day of school. That whole “what’s your name, what’s your major, one fun fact about yourself” spiel. How should we do this? Do you want to go first or should I? - Well, I suggested it, so I guess I’ll go first. Now let’s see… My full name is Audrey Anne Davis. I’m currently 24 years old and my birthday is March 27th. I’m a college graduate and I work as a personal trainer at a local gym. My hobbies include working out, cooking, listening to music, and dancing. Not sure what else to put so, uh, your turn! (P.S. Feel free to ask me anything!) - My turn it is, then. Soooo, let’s see…mine is Jean-Claude Henri Malone (née Bellerose), currently 23, aaaand my birthday’s August 23rd. Right now, I’m working on my bachelor’s (almost done, though!)…started in gen. studies, decided to do something with humanities. I do a bit of work at the student bookstore, aaaand my hobbies include listening to music, playing videogames, reading…aaaand I would say I enjoy a bit of footy every now and again. Aha, dancing, eh? Any specific training (e.g. ballet, hip hop, anything of that sort) or is it more like “put on some tunes and see where the music takes you”? (P.S. Likewise!) - I have to admit, I had to Google née and footy. XD Anyway, I learned to dance from my dad. He took some classes when he was a kid, but is mostly self taught. (He’s REALLY good!) I pretty much just go with the music. I know some specific dance moves, but I don’t really know how to do those fancy dances you’d do at a ball. What kind of books do you like to read? I’m not much of a reader myself, but I do listen to audio books on occasion. I’m not exactly the brightest bulb, so I try to stick to books that don’t have seven layers of meanings you have to analyze in order to understand and enjoy them. - Ah, yes, the “English to English” thing. If I find one of those sorts of dictionary, I’ll be sure to send it your way. XD Interesting! That’s how I tend to dance as well…I’ve been meaning to take one of those “ballroom dancing” classes, just for the heck of it, buuuut…dunno, haven’t had the time as of late. (Or a partner for that matter, but that was a different story.) Just kind of want it as some random skill to have under my belt. I’m not super picky- if something looks interesting, I’ll pick it up, read the first couple of chapters, see where it goes. Though I will say, audio books are a godsend…always good for plane or car rides, if you’re not the one driving. I totally feel you on that whole “analysis” thing; that used to throw me in secondary school so much. “The blue door is supposed to represent the main character’s feelings of sadness”…mmmmaaaaybe the author just really likes the colour blue? 🤔 Personally, I always like to recommend “Le Petit Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (don’t worry, there is an English translation…and about 298 others, haha). There’s some analysis like that that could come with it, but not a ton. It’s one of those stories that doubles as a “children’s” story and one for adults, as well. - You never know when you’ll have to break into a waltz! I jotted down that title in my handy dandy notebook, so I should remember to look into it. (The act of writing things down helps me to remember. You should see how many notebooks I go through in a year! LOL) Speaking of children’s stories, have you ever read any Goosebumps books? I only read one as a kid and it really scared me, so I never read any more. I wonder if I could handle them now. The problem is my fight or flight response is just a fight response. If I get nervous, I might hit things out of reflex. I once accidentally broke my dad’s nose as a kid because he snuck up on me. I felt SO BAD. My mom couldn’t stop laughing though. She was actually recording when it happened, so that infamous family moment is on tape. - True, very true! 🤣 I have, actually! Read a few when I was a bit younger- my favourite had to be the ‘Night of the Living Dummy’ stories. They were pretty creepy, I have to admit…although I stumbled upon another series around the same time that, I argue, is quite creepier. I’m not sure if a series known as “Grizzly Tales for Gruesome Kids” made its way over to the states, but hoooo boy. It was made into a TV series as well…not much better in terms of toning down the creepiness. I used to say it makes Goosebumps look like Mother Goose! 😮 (Granted, I don’t think Goosebumps is supposed to be a series that scares you into good behaviour whereas G.T.F.G.K. sort of is, buuuut…still kind of has you going “WHAT did I just read?!”) Okay, just reading that made me cringe, ouch! Remind me to never spook you…or if there’s ever a time we’re over in the states for Halloween, remind me to not take you to a haunted house/scary movie. If it’s any consolation, there’s quite a bit of embarrassing footage of small me as well, haha. “Cowboy J.C.”, “Super J.C.”, tiny siblings/cousins spitting up on me, you name it. 😅 - It doesn’t sound familiar to me, but I was never on the lookout for such things. Scaring kids into behaving? Ick. I’m of the belief that you should influence a child with positivity. I don’t mean in a spoiling kind of way. I just think finding the cause of a problem is more important than punishing the child. And when it does come to punishments, never do something that can damage them in the long run. Don’t be too lenient though. It is important to learn that actions have consequences. There has to be a balance. Sorry for the ramble there. It’s just that the way children are treated is important to me and I do not censor myself with such things. I’ll be sure to remind you. I’m not a fan of scary things. Unless they’re a fun type of scary, like paper bats or those fuzzy spider decorations. We’ve only ever had really silly looking spider decorations at our house during Halloween because my mom’s arachnophobic. If they’re too realistic, she gets the heebie-jeebies. Speaking of embarrassing, I feel it only fair to you and Syd that I share a photo of my own.

Guess who. - Hey, that’s fair! And makes sense, too. My thing is just…kind of let them do their thing (to an extent) and experience the world, just guide them along the way, you know? If they’re being a little butt (or rather, standard kid who’s still learning) about something, tell them why they shouldn’t be in a way that they understand; cause and effect. Like yes, you may want to eat six ice lollies in a row, but if you do, you’ll get a stomachache. Kiddo knows from experience that stomachaches suck, so a compromise of one or two ice lollies is made. As you said, balance is key. Aaaah, arachnophobia. Guess I’ll have to tell Syd that if she wants to show your mum a cool spider she found to…well, not to. XD; Awww-ha-ha-ha-haaaw, caught red-handed! I guess since I’ve put Syd and you through it, I figure one of mine wouldn’t hurt, either:

Apparently, small me did not like the idea of a fork, haha. - I’m glad we have similar views on children. I think we’re going to get along juuuuuust fiiiiiiiine. (Don’t get me wrong. I won’t hold it against anyone if they aren’t good with kids. Just don’t be mean to them.) Awww, you’re adorable~ Hmm… This email is a little short. I’ll just add some random stuff about me here. I love plush animals and have a LOT of them. My favorite fruit is either strawberries or raspberries. I hate pickles, but I like cucumbers. I can do the splits. … I’m out of stuff to say. - Right? I mean, they’re people, too. Just…y’know, tiny. XD As long as you try, then that’s what counts. Eheheheh, I mean…kiiinda? 😅 This was one of the ones I could find that wasn’t completely embarrassing. I think Dad’s in possession of one of the ones that would made me melt into a puddle of shame. Hm, so’s this one. Guess I’ll follow suit? My favoruite fruits are probably apples and watermelon. I can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue. I like those indoor trampoline parks, buuuut the last place you’ll catch me is in the foam block pit (of course, guess who loves to go in those). If I had to pick my top three favourite animals, I’d have to say either cats (big or small), dogs (same), ooooor elephants. - I can’t really think of much to say this time around, but I’ll leave you with this. Given your favorite animals, I’d say I can always rely on you to address the elephant in the room! - LOL! 🤣🤣🤣 Haha, that’s alright. Guess that means we’ll have more to talk about the next time around. I think?I hope? XD; - It was a few days later that Audrey took the time to really sit down and think of something to write. Sorry for the wait on this one. I wanted to actually have something to say this time. Before I forget though, did you guys remember to try Blue Moon ice cream while you were here? Anyway, I find it so odd to think about how, if it wasn’t for Lola, we might have never met. Well, maybe not never, given our dads work for the same company. We might not have met until much later, if not for Lola. How neat and silly is it that my dog found me a pen pal? Also, I was able to think up some more questions for you! What are some of your favorite animated movies? What about songs? Desserts? Oh! By the way, here’s a video of Daisy my mom took the other day. It’s amazing how high that little dog can jump when treats are involved. - Now, logically, J.C. knew that taking a few days to respond was no real issue. Perhaps Audrey had gotten preoccupied with other tasks. That was typical for a twenty-something nowadays (he should know, he was one). A small part of him, though, couldn’t help but feel as though she had lost interest in him. If he had, he wasn’t the kind of person to be bitter about it…maybe a bit upset, but…Audrey was her own person, she had the right to make her own decisions. When he got a reply a few days later, that fear had melted away…then again, a video of a little dog getting some serious air in the name of treats always helps. Hey, no worries! We did, actually. Interesting flavour! Kind of like cotton candy, but also kind of not. If “blue” itself can qualify as a flavour, I guess, that’s what I’d call it. Kind of bites that wer don’t have it over here. Guess that gives me a reason to go back to the States, LOL. Ooo, okay, let’s see…I’d have to say one of the more recent ones is Ernest & Celestine. When I was little, apparently, I used to watch My Neighbor Totoro at least once or twice a week. I don’t remember, though, if I had watched it in English or in Japanese with the subtitles on. Might have been the latter, I only know the song in Japanese (and that’s….probably the extent of my Japanese XD. I can’t translate it, but I can sing it, so there’s that!). Songs, I’m all over the place, so I can’t exactly list a specific one. Mum and Dad like the Beatles, and they grew on me, sooo I guess there’s them? Will have to get back to you on that one, haha. Dessert-wise…can’t go wrong with creme brulee, that’s for sure~ Hot fudge sundaes are a close second. To be honest, I’ll take any offerings when it comes to sweets. 😋 Ha! Man, she’s got some power there…imagine her trying to make slam dunks! …Granted…that’s….kind of hard to do without thumbs, but…you get what I mean. I think? I know, right? I’m not entirely sure what dogs think about, but can you imagine if she was actively/knowingly playing matchmaker? ‘yes, hello there other human, meet mine’. 🤣 Guess that makes it my turn for questions? Mine are kind of weird, but: What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to? What was the last song you sung along to? What’s your favorite type of day? (weather, temp, etc.) - Blue really is the best way to describe that flavor! Hard to imagine that ice cream as any other color. Then again, it might work in another color as long as it’s pastel. I think it’s pastel flavor. LOL Ernest & Celestine looks adorable! As for the other one… Honestly, it would probably have scared me as a kid. I think it’s the art style. Something about how big their mouths get, maybe. I don’t know… Nothing against the movie though! Just not my preference in style, you know?I’d say a few of my favorite animated movies are The Lion King, Lilo and Stitch, and the Emperor’s New Groove. I like to think New Groove is safe for any audience because no one dies; not even the villain.I like the Beatles as well! My music taste is varied. If something sounds good, I like it. Genre doesn’t really matter. Creme brulee? I’ve never had that. I do like custard though, so I imagine I would like it. And who doesn’t like hot fudge sundaes?! I love sweets as well! Yeah, I get it! Maybe we could get her a little basketball and hoop? She could carry the ball in her mouth! Her dribbling will be drool! XD I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what dogs are thinking. As for your questions, rock climbing might be fun? I’ve climbed indoor rock walls, but never the real thing. I honestly can’t remember the last song I sung along to. I kind of sing bits and pieces or hum when I listen to music, as opposed to full on singing along. Maybe I can go with the most recent song on my iPod? It was Fortune Teller by Maroon 5. I tend to find good things in any type of day, really. If I had to choose though, I’d say a sunny mid-spring day. The temperature would be right in the middle, not too hot, not too cold. Maybe the occasional cool breeze to help you feel alive, but enough sun that you don’t need a light jacket, but can wear one without burning up. Woof! That was a lot of typing! Maybe we could do an audio chat or something, one of these days? She hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but, seeing as they’ve spoken in person, she reasoned it wasn’t a big deal. - 😂😂😂 Eh, blue, pastel…close enough. Still tasty, regardless! 😋 Totally understandable! To each their own, right? Ooo, I might have to recommend New Groove to Kat. I’ve seen it a couple of times, but she hasn’t. I think anytime we’ve tried to settle down and watch it, something comes up (i.e., she’s going to a friend’s house, I had plans with a few of my friends, etc.). Lilo and Stitch is a pretty good one (def. one of Syd’s faves), and who DOESN’T like The Lion King? Can’t help but sing along with it, haha. Remind me to send you a recipe for some. It can be a little tricky, but it’s not like you have to have four or five things going at once. J.C. stopped typing for a couple minutes, trying to move his wrists around and get some of the building carpal tunnel aches to calm down a bit. Maybe Audrey had the right idea, switching over to audio calls… As for audio chat, I’m perfectly fine with that! Just want to let you know that I am about four to five hours ahead of your time zone (I believe that’s what it is? Daylight Savings is a weird concept…I guess for part of the year, it’s four and then the other part is five.). Whenever you’re feeling up to it. :) - Oh, right. Forgot about the time difference. Oops. LOL I tend to wake up at six in the morning and head to bed around ten at night. My work schedule isn’t a typical nine to five deal, being a personal trainer and all. I generally work when the client isn’t; so it’s usually in the mornings and evenings. I suppose the best time to catch me is early in the morning and midday, my time. Or on my days off, of course. Do you have an account on Discord? I figured we could do our chatting there. - Time-zones, mon amie; Une vraie douleur dans le cul…😩 Early morning, midday, and days off…duly noted! So that’d be afternoon to early evening here, I believe. Works out, though- my available times tend to be later in the day my time. I do- Name on there is OuiOuiJC#0714. If you see a profile picture that has a ferret in a beret, and they’re holding a baguette and glass of wine, that’s me. - Audrey couldn’t help but giggle at his username and profile picture. Rather than email him again, Audrey sent him a friend request from her Discord; AudreySugarSpice#1734. Her profile picture was a pink teddy bear. Guess who~ - Pink bear? Hm, unless one of his sisters had secretly made a Discord account (”Not until you’re older”, as per Mum and Dad’s rules), theeeeen this had to be Audrey. Looking at the username, that definitely confirmed it. Friend request accepted~ Guess who, eh? Hmmm….the Queen of England? 🤣 - Feeling a bit bold, Audrey initiated an audio call with him, planning to greet him with, “How’d you know?” followed by giggles. - …Well, she did say that she wanted to try out audio calls, so why not? Picking up, he answered with a comically dramatic gasp. “Your majesty~! I am not worthy!”   - Audrey giggled more. “I’d have followed up by pretending to be a queen, but, I don’t know how one acts and I can’t do an English accent to save my life,” she laughed. “Anyway, how are you doing? Can you hear me alright?” - “Incredibly proper, supposedly.” he chuckled. “Doin’ alright! Can hear you juuust fine. How about on your end? Hearing me and how things are going, I mean.” - “Same here! Glad I caught ya at a good time… I did catch you at a good time, right? It should be evening over there. Oh, I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything…” - “Haha, naaah, you’re fine! Been with the family for most of the day, so I’ve secluded myself in my room for a bit of ‘me’ time. It’s all good.” - “So I guess your me time is us time now,” she chuckled. “You live with your parents still or are you just visiting? It’s fine either way!” she added in a hurry. “The only reason I have my own place is because of Spike. He’s a workout friend of mine who works in construction and knows a few people in real estate.” - “Guess so; not that I’m complaining.” he responded. “ I spend most of my time here during the summer holiday…and, well, regular holidays.. During school, I live a bit closer to the campus. Soooo…I guess you could say both? Once I get my degree, I’m moving into my own. Haven’t settled on a location yet, really. Depends on if I want to be adventurous or not.” - “Ahhh. I see,” she nodded to herself. “What are some locations you’re thinking of moving to? Just curious.” - “Back to France is always an option…but knowing my family, either they’d be coming here at least once every couple of weeks or vice versa. Aaaaand that back and forth travel can be kind of pricey. I could always head up to and stay in Blackpool- where my university is. Or just take a total leap of faith and try somewhere else. The few times we’ve been over to the U.S. have been kind of nice- maybe I could live there. Might consider multiple citizenship, who knows. Eleven months there, one month here…” - “That does sound pricey… Though I’m sure you know that, if you’re considering the United States, I have to recommend Michigan. I’m biased, yes, but I have at least visited other states, so I’m not blindly swearing allegiance or anything. Fun fact, Michigan is one of the leading fruit growers in the States~ Cherries, especially,” she chirped. - J.C. laughed, “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea; being surrounded by fruit. I also wouldn’t mind living somewhere that gets actual snow in the winter. I mean, sometimes we’ll spend the holidays up in Northern Scotland, but not having to travel to see and play in the snow would be nice.” - “Oh, snow is definitely something we get up here,” she laughed. “Multiple feet of it, in fact. You should see Daisy during the winter; it’s hilarious! You just toss her outside and fwump; she disappears into the snow!“ - “Pffff! You might just have to tie a balloon to her collar or something and just track her that way. Or do you think she would float away?” - “Ha! Enough balloons probably would make her fly away! She’s so tiny! Truthfully, we just look for where the snow is moving. It also helps that she wears little sweaters when it’s cold out. Mom’s tried putting booties on her, but she just kicks them off.” - “Awwwhawhawhaw~ I’d hope she’d have at least a little something to wear. If I’m not mistaken, Michigan and a lot of those northern states can get pretty cold…like ‘stuck inside for days’ or ‘wearing five layers of clothing just to get the shopping done’ cold.” He thought for a minute. “Of…course, that’s all from word of mouth as opposed to personal experience, but…” - “I can confirm that it can get that cold. Ever see A Christmas Story where the little brother has so many layers of clothing he can’t put his arms down? It’s kind of like that.” - J.C. laughed, picturing the scene. “Oh, mon dieu. If we’re ever visiting during that time of the year, remind me to keep Syd away from metal poles!” - “Oh goodness… Yeah, that’s really a thing that happens here. Why do so many people think that’s a myth? Have they never gotten their tongue stuck to a popsicle before?” - “Apparently not. But hey, doing stupid stuff’s a part of life,I suppose. Maybe gain some status or fame in your friend group or among your class/workmates.” Sounded as if he was speaking from experience. - “Why do you sound like you’re speaking from experience?” she teased. - There was a brief moment of silence. “…Beeeee….caaaaaause I mmmmmmaaaaaay have done a few things that…could be qualified as such.” he responded, chuckling sheepishly. “N-nothing major, though.” - “Ooooooo~” she said, trying to sound like a studio audience. “What’d you do?” - The sheepish laughter intensified. “Aaaah…hm. You know those really, really hot peppers that are on the market?  Short and skinny of it is ‘Guys Night In’ and a game of ‘Truth or Dare’. It wasn’t a…Reaper? I think that’s what one of those are called? Only reason I know that is because I probably would’ve ended up in hospital, haha. I think it was aaaa….habenaro? One was, the other’s called  ‘Naga Jolokia’. Ate the habenaro with little issue, didn’t even get a full two bites into the other one before I was gulping down water like no tomorrow.” - “Oh noooo,” she laughed. “Oh nooo-ho-ho! That’s- That’s a ghost pepper, isn’t it?! Ah-ha-ha-ha!” She broke into a laughing fit. - His laughter became less sheepish and a bit more joyful. “Eeeeeeeyup, it is. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time, but hey. I will say, it did go better than when we played that one game with the Jelly Beans. …What’s it called? ‘Bean-Boozled’?” - “Yeah, it’s Bean-Boozled. Basically Bertie-Bott’s Every Flavor Beans but Jelly Belly brand. Dare I ask what could have happened when playing Bean-Boozled?” - “Weeeeell, plus side, I wasn’t the one who ended up with their face in a wastebasket.” he snickered. “The last few times we’d played, I kept getting the really gross flavours, and there was this joke that I was cursed. With our most recent game, the ‘curse’, I suppose, had reversed and the person who got all the good flavours last time got all the bad ones. He was fine up until…ugh, dead fish.” - “Ew-hew-hew!” she laughed. “Though, technically, all fish we eat is dead. It’d be pretty messy if we ate them alive… and gross… Say, that reminds me, you like scary movies, right? I have a question about zombies.” - “I doooooo. What’s your question?” - “How fast does a zombie need to eat before its victim becomes a zombie too and they don’t want to eat it? Like, zombies don’t eat other zombies, right? If you’re killed by a zombie, you become a zombie, right? How does that work?” - J.C. blinked, initially unsure how to answer. “That’s….actually a really good question. I like to think that it depends on the initial method of zombification. If it’s done via a curse, you’ve got a bit more time, whereas if it’s because of a virus, that time shortens, since you’ve got all this zombie saliva coming into contact with your blood. Blood takes about one minute to circulate through your entire body, so…you’d probably have to go all ‘pie-eating contest’ speed if your zombification is viral.” He stopped and thought for a minute. “Granted, you get bit regardless of the initial turning mechanism and still come into contact with their saliva…maybe one method is more virulent and fast-acting than the other? Kind of like how it can take something like food poisoning to show up in as little as half an hour to as long as four weeks, depending on what’s responsible for causing it.” - There was a long pause before Audrey replied with, “Huh… I don’t know what to do with this information… I’d write a story or something, but I don’t have the creativity for that. Hm… Maybe I should mention this to Adelyn… She’s good with this sort of thing.” - “Nor am I.” he chuckled, “Ah, Adelyn, eh? Friend of yours or a relative?” - “Relative,” she informed. “She’s my youngest cousin. She’s on the autism spectrum and is, like, really smart and creative.” - “Ah! Maybe she can tell me if the logic on my answer to your question seems sound.” All of a sudden, he heard a small sneeze outside the door, along with a small ‘THUD!’ and a young-sounding ‘Dangit!”. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Hold on just a sec…” Getting up and walking towards his door, J.C. spoke to who he suspected was on the other side. “I know that’s you, petit singe. Are you eavesdropping?” “Noooooooo…a person can’t just chill against the wall in their own home?” “The wall that has their brother’s room on the other side?” “…All the other walls were taken?” - Though the voice was a bit faint, Audrey figured the little eavesdropper was Syd. “Tell her I said hi,” she called loudly, hoping J.C. could hear her from however far away from the computer he was. - “Can do!” he called back, before turning his voice back towards Syd. “Audrey says ‘hi’, by the way.” Syd gasped, “You’re talkin’ to her?!” She took a deep breath and shouted: “HI AAAAAAAUUUUDREEEEEEEY!!!” J.C., having been up against the door cringed and rubbed his ear a bit. Probably should have seen that coming… - “Oh wow, she’s got a set of lungs on her, huh?” she laughed. - “Tell me about it.” the older brother groaned slightly. “ ‘Kay! Soooo I’m gonna let yooooou twooooo get back to your conversation! Maybe we can do a chat later on; I don’t want to interrupt you two lovebirds~” the ten year old responded, laughing as she skipped away. Once she was gone, J.C. sat back down on his bed, rubbing his temple a bit. “Eheh…sorry about that. Siblings…” - “Never a dull moment, huh?” she chuckled. - “Never.” he laughed. - “Sooo… What were we talking about? … Oh, right; zombies. That reminds me; I punched a zombie once… Well, someone in a zombie costume… Did I tell you about that?” - “Pffffff! I don’t think you have…how’d that come about, anyway?” - “There was this haunted house a few years back. It was pretty intense, so children were required to have an adult with them. Well, these kids really wanted to go and every other adult they asked were either busy or flat out said no… So I wound up being that adult… Well, the haunted house did its job. I was on edge the whole time and, when one of the actors put his hand on my shoulder, I whirled around and punched out of reflex. I felt so bad! I kept apologizing and I even gave him a twenty dollar bill! I know they aren’t paid to be hit, but I had to do something!” - J.C. wheezed before collapsing into a fit of giggles. “Oooooh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho my lord!  That’s aw-haw-haw-haw-haw-haw-ful! Hilarious, as well, but still! But hey, at least you apologized.” - “The kids thought it was funny too,” she chuckled a bit. “Shame I got us kicked out.” - “Aw, that bites,”  the giggles started dying down a bit. “If it’s any consolation, I can be the designated adult if you and I are ever dragged to a place like that. I may let out a high pitch screech if I’m spooked, but I don’t think I’ll karate chop someone. At least, I haven’t yet…” - Audrey chuckled. “I’d appreciate that. I’m afraid my fight or flight response is just a fight response. Not a good scaring subject.” - J.C. snickered, “On the plus side, you at least know that. Better than running into a situation blindly and all confident, then end up running away.” - “As opposed to walking in scared and beating someone up? Not sure if I agree with that… If the person is innocent, anyway… I do wonder how I’d do, should I face a genuine threat… A non human threat, I mean. I know I can take humans.” - “Oh yeah, no; punching innocent people’s never a good idea. I’d imagine if you can pack that much of an unintentional punch on someone, intentionally punching can provide quite a…pack.” He chuckled sheepishly, “I was going somewhere with that. Sounded better in my head.” - Audrey snickered. “I think I get what you’re trying to say. I do imagine I’d do more damage from an intentional hit than I would a startled reflex.” - “D-D-D-D-D-Double comboooooo!” J.C. joked, mimicking a videogame announcer, “Nice hit!” - She laughed at that, having supervised enough sleepovers to recognize a video game reference when she heard one. “Which fighting game is that?” - “Aha, I’m not entirely sure if it is one? I was trying to go something ‘Mortal Kombat’ or ‘Punch-Out!!’-esque, but other than that…” - “Mortal Kombat’s the one with the ‘Finish him!’ line and the catchy theme song, right?” - “Indeed it is. I know there are a few newer versions out, but I prefer the older, less…aaah, gory ones.” - “You mean to tell me they get even gorier?! I saw some as a teenager and they were pretty dang gory.” - “I meeean….maybe more so in the way of being more realistic with the blood and guts and everything, but if you would qualify that as ‘gorier’, then yes.” - “Ahhh, I get it. I suppose that is gorier. It doesn’t matter how much red you add to a stick figure, I’m not really going to be affected by it.” - “To each their own. I suppose.” - “Hm? What do you mean? I thought we were agreeing,” she asked, confused. - “O-oh! I’m pretty sure we still are? I-I meant that in a…different context than what the original meaning of the phrase is? You’d said something about adding as much red as you can to a stick figure and it won’t affect you. I, ah, imagine it can be different for some? That…something like that would? “ J.C. chuckled sheepishly. “I was going somewhere with that, guess my train of thought got derailed…” - “…I think I was in the train when it got derailed because I have no idea where we are,” she laughed. - J.C. snickered before breaking into a short, impromptu song, “We’re goin’ off the rails with our trains of thooooooought…~!” - Audrey’s laughter increased with the song. “Oh my gosh! You are so silly!” - Her laughter had him laughing as well…aaaaand perhaps blushing just a bit. Good to see his dorkiness came in handy outside of cheering up a grumpy sibling or a bummed out friend. “I try, my dear, I try. Just how I am, I guess!” - She giggled softly at being called ‘dear,’ finding it both silly and charming. “Well, you succeed!” she chuckled. “What were we talking about? Fighting games? Something about fighting?” - “Something like that, yeah…come to think of it, how did we even get on that topic, anyway? What were we even talking about before that?” - “I have no idea. I don’t even really play video games. See, this is why I write things down; can’t remember a thing otherwise… Well, aside from the fact that Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin. That’s about all that stuck with me from school.” - “I wouldn’t call myself a gamer, really. Kind of in the ‘I know just enough to keep myself from getting my butt completely kicked whenever one of the munchkins wants me to do a Pokemon battle with them’ camp. Maybe the occasional party game like those dancing ones, but otherwise…” J.C. chuckled, “What about ‘Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally’ for maths, or ‘Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492?’. Granted, that’s probably going back a looooong time, but hey.” - “I can play a bit of those Mario Party games, but that’s about it. I mostly button mash everything else. It’s amazing how often I win doing that…” she trailed off. “I know those too! It’s just the cotton gin thing stuck with me, for some reason. When will I ever need that information? Elementary school Jeopardy?” - “Haha, Iiiii’d imagine so. I remember when I was still in primary school, we had this ‘Bring-Your-Parent-To-School Day’ thing, and we did have something like that at one point. Kids vs. the parents. Sort of like…what’s the name of that one show? ‘Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader?’. Pretty sure that show wasn’t around when I was that young, so your description’s probably more accurate.” - “I suppose you have a point there. I guess I can use it in a competition with my future kids,” she laughed. “Assuming I one day marry and have them or adopt them or what have you.” - “Same, honestly. I like to think I’ve gotten enough practice with ‘Thing 1′ and ‘Thing 2′, and having a kid of my own would be nice. It’s….different from having siblings, you actually have something that you had a hand in creating, and it’s like a little you.” He paused. “I mean…they’re obviously they’re own person, but half of their DNA is yours.” Cue a small sigh, “I dunno, having a tiny person thinking you’re the coolest thing ever for a time is a nice feeling. Kind of want to experience it on a different level than ‘older sibling-younger sibling’.” Cue another pause, then a somewhat sheepish chuckle, “That…aaaah, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you at once. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope that made at least some sense.” - Audrey giggled, pleased with his ramble. She liked the way this man thought. “Oh, no worries. I like listening to people talk about things that make them happy, especially when it’s about kids. And I know what you mean. I can’t help but wonder what a biological child of mine might look like. What traits of mine might they inherit? That sort of thing.” - “Basically a game of ‘roll the genetic dice and see what happens’, I guess. Sometimes it can be a little scary if you’ve got some potentially harmful stuff in your history, but otherwise it’s kind of cool.” A thought occurred to J.C., evidenced by the sudden change in expression on his face. “…I wonder if anyone’s ever had a child that’s exactly half of one parent and half of the other. Like one side of their head has curly hair and the other side is straight? I guess that could happen with multiples, but I don’t know about a singular child…” - “I don’t think that’s possible,” she scratched her head as she thought. “I know eyes can be two different colors, but I don’t think you can have two types of hair on the same head… Not naturally, anyway. I mean, my hair is kind of in-between Mom’s waves and Dad’s curls… Probably closer to Dad in that respect. Can’t style it very well… It’s not both though.” - “Mm.” He nodded as he listened to Audrey’s thought process. “Guess it all depends on what exactly the DNA wants to do when, for lack of a better term, building someone from scratch happens. ‘You get your mom’s eyes, your dad’s hair, the dimples of some relative a few generations back…’. Genetics are weird.” - “Tell me about it. Dad has no freckles, Mom has a few, I have a ton. Apparently, there’s some hidden super freckle gene somewhere in my family.” - J.C. chuckled, “Guess so. I don’t know a whole lot about what ran in mine, other than brown hair from my mother and…” he paused, “I know there was something on my father’s side, though what it is is escaping me at the moment…” - Audrey figured he must be having difficulty remembering as it’s been so long since his biological family was alive. Deciding it better to change the subject before he delves too deep into such a topic, Audrey thought up a distraction. “Do you remember that thing in school where you draw a square consisting of four smaller squares to figure out possible gene combinations or whatever? I forget what it’s called…” - J.C. thought for a minute; that sounded really familiar… “The thing where you put, like…uppercase ‘B’ for brown eyes and lowercase ‘b’ for blue eyes? I believe it’s a Punnett Square?” - “Yeah! That’s it! You’d think figuring out the odds of certain traits would be more complicated than drawing a few squares, but, there it is.” - He chuckled, “I know, right? Apparently, you can use them in…I believe it’s algebra, as well, but it’s a little more complicated there. ‘Square this number, multiply these two’…” - “Oh, gosh; not algebra!” she yelped in faux terror before chuckling. The two went on talking for a good while after that, but ultimately had to end the call. Finding such a thing quite enjoyable, Audrey made sure to call J.C. again… and again… and again. They’d even gotten to the point where they did video calls. It practically became a routine, but there were still interesting moments to be had. “Check it out! I got a wireless headphone microphone thingy!” Audrey chirped excitedly, waving her hand around her head to show there were no wires. “Now I can still talk to you, even if I step away from the computer a little!” - J.C. let out a playful, dramatic gasp at the reveal. “Ah, fantastique! You’re not confined to having to be close to the computer like I am.” he joked, pulling at his headphone cord a bit, “I have one of those microphones that are built into the computer, but I’m definitely planning on upgrading to a more ‘external’ one soon…seven to ten business days to be exact, should the delivery go without a hitch. Merci, online shopping~” - “Tell me about it! Present shopping has never been so convenient~ Also,” Audrey clapped, summoning Lola to jump onto the couch with her. “No more nearly knocking down the computer whenever Lola wants attention!” - J.C. chuckled at the little pup, “Ah, bonjour, Lola!” “Did you say Lola!?” came a voice from outside his door. “Can I see ‘er? Please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaase?” The older brother playfully rolled his eyes, “Oh lord, sounds like I said the magic word. You don’t mind Kat popping in for a bit, do you?” - Audrey chuckled and shook her head. “Not at all~ Let me just turn the speakers on so Lola can hear her. You like the attention, don’t you, girl~?” she cooed as she pet her head. - J.C. gave the two a small smile before turning towards his door. “Entrez!” With a small creak, in came Kat, bounding towards her brother’s bed. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about as much damage being done once she flopped onto it, as Kat was a good deal smaller than Syd. No real worries about his laptop flying off of the bed and onto the floor or the screen getting kicked in. Once she was on the bed, Kat crawled towards the webcam and made herself comfortable, smiling widely and cooing at the dog. “Hiiiiya, Lola! Hiya, Audrey!” - “Hiya, Kat!” Audrey returned the greeting as Lola stood up and wagged her tail at the excited voice. “Who’s that?” she asked playfully, getting a bark from her dog. “Yes! It’s Kat! Such a good girl~” she gave Lola a generous petting - The eight year old giggled at the dog’s response. “Kinda bites that you guys are so far away, an’ that I can’t reach through the screen an’ give her some pets…but seeing you two’s okay enough! How’ve you been?” - “I’m giving her plenty of pets for you,” she giggled, petting the dog. “Work’s been a little overwhelming here and there, but Lola and your brother have been doing a good job of helping me wind down. What about you? School treating you okay?” - “Uh-huh!”, the little girl nodded,  “Right now we’re doing our sevens times tables in maths and we’re reading Sideways Stories from Wayside School. We’re supposed to be starting this really cool science experiment next week, but I dunno what exactly it is, ‘cos our teacher’s keeping it a secret.” “Maybe you’re doing the ‘butterfly life cycle observation’ thing.” J.C. commented, “I remember doing that a few times in primary school.” - “Oooo, that sounds fun~ Glad that you’re enjoying yourself. School takes up a lot of time, so, best enjoy it, if you can. Maybe you can give Syd some pointers on that.” Syd struck her as someone who didn’t enjoy school much. - “I meeeean, I dunno what exactly it is they do in Year 6, but I can try? She likes when they do more ‘science-y’ stuff and reading more action-packed stories, than having to learn history or maths….buuuut I can try!”   J.C. smirked at his sister’s confidence. “Well, you know the saying: ‘Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it’.” - “Well… there’s a lot of action in history?” she shrugged. “Though that’s rarely a good thing in real life… And you need to know math in order to properly do science. Lots of equations and all that.” - “Yeeeeah, true. But I guess you gotta explain stuff in a way that’ll make it sound interesting with ‘er. Not totally sure how you could make maths interesting.” The older brother snickered, “Maybe if the question’s something like…’If there are 96 pieces of chewing gum in a candy machine and there are 8 friends, how many pieces does each friend get?’. Something that she can kind of relate to. Or at the very least, reword the question, but keep the same numbers.” - “I’d imagine she’d say something along the lines of, ‘Depends on who has to figure it out. They’ll get more than the rest.’ Gotta be careful with how you word these things,” she wagged a finger. - J.C. laughed, “She would. Or ‘Why would they be sharing, that’s 96 whole pieces of gum right there!’.” “I do know she likes when her class gets to do creative assignments, too.” Kat piped up, “Like when they have a spelling list, but get to write a story that uses the words in it. Or when they make a scene from something or a model in a shoe box.” “…A diorama?” “Yeah, that! She tends to make a big mess when she’s making it, but the end product’s pretty good…and she has fun doin’ it too.” - “That’s good! See, you’ve gotta focus on the good with these things. Focus on the bad and you’ll make yourself miserable. I mean, there are difficult aspects to my job, but I try to focus on the fact I’m helping people get healthy and/or stay healthy. Just remind her something good will come soon enough, you know?” - Kat gave Audrey a salute, “Can do!” “It takes a bit of patience, too.” J.C. added, “I know she wants to do some of the experiments that I did in secondary school and uni, but…well, you need to learn to crawl before you can walk, and know how to walk before you can run.” “It’s hard, though, when you’re little.” Kat piped up. “Trust me, I know. And I’m pretty sure Audrey knows too; we were both your age once.” - “Exactly,” Audrey nodded. “I used to get frustrated with what I wasn’t allowed to do, but, looking back, I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t go baking a cake without learning to crack an egg first.” - “…Ssssoooo she can’t exactly go sledding down the stairs without knowing how to steer the sled first?” J.C. snickered, “I mean, in theory, yeah, but you shouldn’t be doing that anyway because you could get seriously hurt. And that’s regardless of how many pillows you’ve tied to yourself, how many you’ve put at the bottom of the stairs, and with wearing knee and elbow pads and a helmet.” - “Even if you somehow managed not to get hurt, I can’t imagine it would be much fun. I mean, it’d probably be a really bumpy ride. I’d much rather sled in the snow.” - “But then we’d have to go waaaaaaay up north if we wanted snow. It almost never comes this far south.” Kat pouted. “If you want some deep snow, yes, but I think if we a tad bit as opposed to- as you put it- ‘waaaaaaaay’, it’d be fine. Maybe even go a bit west, as well.” J.C. looked to Audrey, “How much snow would you say you get over by you?” - “How much snow?” Audrey proceeded to cackle for a good long time before holding up a finger, asking for a moment to compose herself. “Sorry,” she cleared her throat. “We just get so much snow! I mean it. A lot. A little snow for us would be two feet deep. There’s a reason we have snowplows over here.” - Kat gasped excitedly. “We gotta go to Michigan for sledding!!” J.C. sputtered, laughing a little, “So you’d be willing to take a half-a-day flight just to go sledding? Not one that’d be maybe an hour, hour and a half at most?” “Yeah! ‘Sides, you’d be able to go an’ see Audrey! Us too, obviously, but still!” - “Oh, come now, it wouldn’t just be sledding… There’s making snowmen too,” she giggled. “Not to mention the feeling of coming inside from the cold and warming up with some hot chocolate.” - “And snow angels and snowball fights!” the little girl bounced excitedly. - Audrey chuckled. “Now, now, don’t get too excited. We don’t even know if this winter visit will happen.” - “Can it, thooooough?” Kat asked, giving the two the “puppy dog pout/puppy dog eyes” combo. As much as the older brother would love that, doing so was dependent on a lot of factors.  “Iiiiiit’s a bit too early to say yes or no, sooooo…I guess we can chalk it up as a ‘we’ll see’?” - “It’s not up to me, kiddo,” she gave the child a shrug. “I’d certainly welcome you, but I can’t exactly fly you over here.” - “Awww…” “Hey, it’s not a ‘no’.” J.C. pointed out, trying to make the situation a bit more positive. - “There’s still plenty of time to figure it out,” Audrey offered. “I mean, school only started a few weeks ago over here. It’s still pretty warm out.” - “Yeah. You’re telling me you want to skip out on your birthday and Halloween and just go straight to winter?” J.C joked. Kat let out a small gasp and shook her head ‘no’. “Theeeeeeeeen you have to wait, kiddo.” - Audrey chuckled. "I’m looking forward to pumpkin spice season, myself.” - “I love fall.” J.C. sighed, thoroughly content. “Part of it being the pumpkin spice, part of it the cooler weather…” “Part of it being that you can toss me into leaf piles.” Kat added, grinning. The brother snorted, “That’s something that you love, goofball…buuuuut I do get a good laugh out of it. Next time we get a deep enough pile, you’re getting launched.” Kat responded with her arms joyously shooting upwards, and a happy “Yay!” - Audrey let out a small giggled, one of joy more than humor. She really liked seeing this man get along so well with children. This man was destined to be a father, she thought to herself as she smiled dreamily. - “Maybe if you and Syd team up, you can launch me.” he joked. Kat scoffed before laughing, “Yeeeeah, maybe not? Now, Audrey probably could! Either with us or by herself!” - The laughter snapped her out of her dreamy state and she laughed too. “I can’t guarantee a soft landing if I do.” - “He’s had worse!” Kat snickered, imagine Audrey doing just as she stated. J.C. smiled and rolled his eyes at the blonde and ruffled her hair a bit, “Alright, alriiiight…hey, did you finish your homework yet?” Kat shook her head no. “I was takin’ a break. Guess I should get back to it?” J.C. nodded, “Then when you’re done, we’ll go over it….maybe practice some of your multiplication flash cards?” “ ‘Kay….but you promised we would have a tea party after that and dinner, remember?” “Of course I do. You, me, and Mr. Bunnysworth are going over the details of the deed to your dollhouse.” The way he said it sounded so matter-of-fact. Kat giggled at her goofball brother before turning to Audrey and Lola, “Sounds like I gotta get goin’. I’ll talk you guys later!” - Audrey giggled again. These two were adorable! “Talk to you later,” she smiled and waved goodbye. Once Kat was gone, Audrey turned the sound back to her headphones. “Tea party, huh? Since you’re in England, do you have actual tea at those?” - J.C. smiled and blew a bit of air out of his nose, “Occasionally, yeah. Kind of a toss up between that or some juice. In the winter, she’ll use hot cocoa.” - Audrey chuckled. “That’s basically what we do over here. That or we just sip on air. It’s usually air, unless we’re using real cups. Those play tea cups are so tiny.” - “I know, right? You have to take teeeeeeny tiny sips if you want it to last the whole party. Like a little mouse or something.” - “Imagine if you were trying to actually hydrate with one of those,” she snickered. - “Oh jeez. If you drink out of them like a normal human being, it’s almost like doing shots.” He paused for a second. “…Oooor at least, how I imagine one would do them. Never done them myself. The occasional glass of wine on special occasions or on vacation, but otherwise…” - Audrey snorted. “I just imagined someone doing shots of tea, but instead of getting drunk, they just get more and more English!” - “Ha! I could start out sounding like this.…” He mimicked downing a few cups of tea before speaking again in a “fancier” accent: “…to something like this. And as the day goes on, it just….waters itself down.” - Audrey couldn’t help but cackle at the demonstration. Once she calmed down, she glanced at the clock and spoke again. “Oh goodness; is that the time? I need to let Lola out before she messes on the floor. Be right back!” She darted off camera to let Lola outside. While outside, her headphones were out of range of her computer, so neither of them could hear each other. With the silence, Audrey managed to forget she was wearing the headphones at all. Making her way back inside (and back in range of her computer), she sang softly to herself as she went about getting Lola a treat. - “Can’t be having that now! You two go do your thing, I’ll be over here.” As the two went off, J.C. took the time to readjust a few things with his computer, answer an e-mail, comment on a friend’s photo. His ears perked up a bit when he picked up the sound of Audrey’s voice again. Was she…? She was. He’d heard her sing once already (he had joined in, after all~), but regardless of that, she sounded lovely. Cue a bit of pink coloring his cheeks. - As she made her way back to the computer, she stopped singing and went about taking the headphones from around her neck and putting them back over her ears. “Sorry about that,” she sat back down with a smile, oblivious to the fact he’d heard her. - “Huh? Oh! Oh, it’s no big deal.” He chuckled sheepishly, “When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go.” Cue the blush getting a bit more noticeable. Seemed to be that she was unaware that he could hear her… - Audrey raised her brow at this and cocked her head slightly to the side. “You feeling alright?” - Ah, crud, he’d been caught. “You, ah….” he gestured to where her headset had been. “You had forgotten to take your headset off, and I caught a bit of you singing when you came back in. N-not that that’s a bad thing! I thought i-i-i-i-it sounded lovely…” - “Oh? Oh!” she brought her fingertips to her mouth for a moment, then brought them back down with an embarrassed smile. “Ah-ha… Oops… Thank you?” - “Eheh…heh…aaaah, no problem…” Well, this was awkward. - “What were we talking about?” she twirled some hair around her fingers as she tried to distract from what had just happened. - “Tea parties and fancy accents, I believe?” J.C. answered, going back to said “fancy” accent as a joke. - Audrey tittered and the two went back to talking. As time went by, the leaves turned color, the temperature got colder, and their online chats became more frequent. “Since Halloween is right around the corner, I have an idea I want to toss out there, if you’re interested.” - J.C., currently in a rather “spooky” sweater, looked up from his hot cocoa, curious. “Shoot. What’cha got rattlin’ around in that brain of yours?” - “You know how I don’t watch horror movies because I don’t want to hurt someone on accident or watch it alone? Well, I can’t really hurt anyone if they aren’t physically in the room with me,” she grinned a bit slyly. “Could be something a bit different, you know?” - “Oooo-hoo-hoo, I like~ So! How should we start out with this? Something super tame like….well, I mean Hotel Transylvania isn’t a horror movie, but it has monsters in it…or do we go for the big guns like The Grudge?” - “I was thinking an actual horror movie. My cousin Chloe got me a nice mountain of horror movie files to choose from. She may have been a bit over zealous though,” she chuckled. “I doubt I’ll ever watch them all. Anyway, I can send the files your way and we can watch it on that Let’s Gaze website we tested out before.” - J.C. laughed as well, “Fine by me! Anything in said mountain that’s catching your eye? I’m not super picky with what we watch.” - “Chloe did mention that some of them can have a bit of humor or ridiculousness to them. What were some of them? Child’s Play… Scream… The Cabin in the Woods… Any of those sound good?” - Taking a sip of his drink as Audrey listed off a few titles, he perked up at the last one. “Oooo, Cabin in the Woods, let’s go with that.” - “I take it you like that one?” she smiled as she went about sending him a link to download the file. - “It’s actually one I haven’t seen,” he clarified, “Child’s Play and Scream, I have seen, albeit a few years ago. Figured I’d start with something ‘new’ before going towards more familiar, y’know?” - “Sounds good. When do you think you’ll have time to sit and watch a whole movie with me?” - “Mmmmm, probably sometime a little later this week? Have a few ‘autumnal’ things that are going on with the family, so I might not be able to find some free time before then. I can keep you posted, though!” - “Is it apple picking?” Audrey asked enthusiastically. “Or throwing your sisters into leaf piles? Pumpkin picking?” - “All 3~” he smiled, “Maybe some preliminary costume searching as well.” - “Ooooooo~ Sounds like you’ve got some busy days ahead of you! My mom, dad, aunts, uncles, and cousins are all going apple picking with me next week! We’re all gonna get some fresh air, pick some apples, make some apple treats… that sort of thing~” - “Ooo, sounds fun! Maybe I can suggest that to Mum and Dad; apple-flavoured stuff- rather, stuff made from apples- sounds really good right now. Plus, it can give Syd a chance to put some of her energy towards climbing some trees.” - “I can send you some recipes, if you need any,” she offered. - “Ooo, that’d be lovely, actually. Spice things up a bit in terms of autumnal snacks, you know?” - Audrey’s eyes seemed to sparkle at the concept of sharing recipes. “Oh! Oh! I have lots of recipes! What do you think you might want; pies, crisps, cobblers, muffins, cakes, cider, applesauce, fritters, breads?!” - Dang, she really DID have a lot of recipes! And they all sounded really nummy~ “Man, you weren’t kidding!” he laughed, “Hm, where do I even start? Maybe we can start with fritters and muffins and go from there.” - “Good choice~ I’ll be sure to send those your way.” She reached for her notebook off camera and jotted down a reminder. “Maybe I could add a nice apple drink recipe in there. Gotta wash those treats down with something~” - “Oo, even better. Kind of like a little bonus treat.“ - Audrey giggled at that. “A treat for your treats~” - J.C. let out a giggle as well…with an unintentional snort. Upon realizing that he had done so, his face went a bit pink. He was still smiling, though, so that was a good sign. - She didn’t comment on the snort. She didn’t want to embarrass him, especially when she did the same thing. “It’s a shame you live so far away. It’d be fun to bake together, I bet!” - He stopped for a second, a thought occurring to him. If they could talk to each other while being in two different parts of the world, what was to stop them from baking? “Unless…we do the baking, but like how we’re doing now. Find some sort of set up to where we can place our computers or phones or whatever out of the ingredient ‘splash zone’, and check on each other’s progress along the way. Baking together, but not physically together, if that makes any sense.” - “We should totally do that,” she exclaimed. “I wonder what we should make. I’d suggest an apple dish, but I don’t go apple picking until next week. Heh. Maybe we should try something simple, just to test it out?” She put a finger to her mouth in thought. “Perhaps a no-bake pumpkin pie? Still autumn themed. Do you guys have boxes of instant pudding over in England? Maybe we should make something with more common ingredients. Hmm… Oh! Pumpkin bread!” - “Oh definitely; do a test run, see how that goes, and then go from there!” J.C. agreed. “Do we have instant pu…I actually might have to check the next time I go out for groceries. Pumpkin bread might be a better option to start with, at least. I know for a fact that we have the stuff to make it here.” - “I’ll have to Google this sort of thing later,” she mused aloud. “I know you guys don’t have graham crackers over there. I’m guessing you’d use shortbread crust for pies in place of graham cracker ones…” - “Usually, yeah, or we use digestive biscuits in place of them. They may have them in the ‘’American’‘ section of a grocery store, but it depends on the store.” - Audrey nodded. “It really is wild how similar, yet different, our foods can be. I’ll try to look through my recipes for ones that are more basic. Here in the states, we tend to use shortcuts that you may not have; like instant pudding.” - “Right? And it can mean something completely different too. The kind that you’re talking about is usually called ‘custard’. If you look up ‘Yorkshire pudding’, that’s usually what we mean. Haggis is technically considered one. …English is weird.” - “Haggis?!” she asked with a weird face. “You’re right. English is weird.” She scrunched her nose. “I’m not going to lie here; if I asked for chocolate pudding and got haggis, I would be very disappointed.” - J.C. laughed, “Same, honestly. I mean, the food itself actually isn’t all that bad; it’s just the way it’s made that makes it sound gross…and…maybe some of what’s in it. To each their own, I suppose.” He shrugged, “I’ve only had it a few times that I can remember; usually when we’ve gone to visit one of my aunts up in Scotland.” - “I’ve never had it myself, but I know it doesn’t taste like chocolate pudding. Hence why I would be disappointed. I’m generally down to try anything at least once.” She thought a moment. “Scotland, huh? Is it as pretty as the pictures?” - “Always a plus.” he smiled. “I’d say so, yeah. One of my favourite places that we sometimes stop over in is Edinburgh, it’s kind of got a fairy tale-esque feel to it. Where my aunt lives is a bit further south, over in Dumfries; more of a riverside kind of town. If you go north enough in the winter, you’re able to see the northern lights, apparently. Haven’t had a chance to myself, unfortunately. I mean, we’ve been pretty far north there that time of year, but never at a point where we can catch ‘em.” - “Oh, that sounds lovely,” she smiled. “Maybe you could ask your relatives to send you pictures, since you haven’t been able to catch them yourself. Oh! Another name for the northern lights is the aurora borealis, right? Sounds all scientific that way,” she chuckled. - He laughed, “Indeed it does. …Y’know, that actually sounds like a good idea. Knowing my luck, if you and I got together just for that, there’d be a wicked snowstorm that moves in on the night we’d be seeing them.” Of course, the alternative of being all snuggled up indoors by a fireplace with some hot cocoa with her wasn’t bad. - She cocked her head slightly, a bit curious, but kept her smile all the same. How exactly did he feel about her if one of his first thoughts about the northern lights would be seeing them with her? “Well, I’m sure we’d find other things to do. Maybe hot cocoa and a crackling fire? I love those~” Seemed she had a similar mindset. - “Maybe in some comfy pyjamas, under one of those weighted blankets.” he added, goofy grin starting to sprawl across his face“…Ooooor a lightweight but super fluffy one. Either or.” - “Oooo~ Both are good! Might depend on how warm the fire makes everything.” She chuckled. “Here we go; talking about a fictional snowstorm. Our conversations sure are something, aren’t they? I was supposed to remember something…” Audrey opened her notebook. “Oh, yeah! I’m supposed to get you some recipes and find one we can both cook together!” Looking off screen, she spotted Lola. “Looks like Lola wants O-U-T and I need to look for some recipes, so I’ll talk to you later, okay?” - “Right, right! That should be fun; here’s hoping that when we do do that, the internet says running smoothly the entire time. Nothing worse that trying to get an exact amount of something from someone, and the connection starts to glitch.” At the mention of Lola, J.C. blew a bit of air out of his nose, smiling. “Haha, silly pup. You go on ahead; I’ll catch up with you later!” -End-

[anxresi]

The Ending To Queen Wasp I’d Liked To Have Seen (Or Something Like It)

Chloe had just told the hapless helicopter guy he was fired along with her mother in unison, and she was finally happy! At long last she’d found something her and the longtime distant Mrs Bourgeois had in common... their unremittingly meanness. Maybe.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see all this time, what a truly exceptional person you are.” Chloe’s mom walked back to the limousine side-by-side with her daughter whilst grinning like a crocodile brushing it’s teeth. “I could never chew out Jean-something the way you just did back there! And to think, you were such a pitiful child, always leaking tears whilst clutching that stupid mouldy old bear! You have safely disposed of that raggedy thing I presume, as per my precise instructions whilst I was touring the globe?”

“E-Er yes, mother.” The slightly stuttering heiress blatantly lied as she attempted to thread her arm through Audrey’s, without much success. “And you’ll never believe what I did to the rest of my inferior classmates whilst you were away, either! There was the boy I dumped in front of everyone through cellphone, the girl I had shut in the toilet so I could be front and center in the class photograph, the blogger I got suspended when she dared take pictures of me by my locker...”

“Ugh, I know what you mean darling. Those paparazzos are the worst.” Audrey was only half-listening to her daughter as she got into the posh car, whilst shooting the driver a dirty look. “You can tell me all about it back at the hotel, just as I’m running my bubble bath. It won’t take longer than five minutes, will it dear? Hey you, is that a mustard stain I spy on your collar?! How dare you seek to chauffeur a lady of my fine standing with such an unsightly blemish besmirching your blazer! You’re fire...”

But before Mrs Bourgeois could parrot those immortal words that’d become so commonplace they’d almost become a parody, a smartly attired female adult wandered over to join the scene. Her long red hair was in a bun, and her keen green eyes observed the situation in front of her with a mixture of interest and concern. “Hello there, you must be Chloe’s mother”.

“And who in Paris might you be?!” Audrey’s attention was taken away from chastising her trembling driver momentarily, and she lowered her shades slightly to scowl at the new arrival. “You can’t just step up to the biggest celebrity in the city right now and expect a private audience! Either book an appointment with my agent, or I’ll have you arrested for obstruction! Honestly, the sheer cheek of some people...”

“E-Er mom, this is actually my teacher Miss Bustier.” Chloe let out a nervous laugh at this juncture. “Among all the useless grown-ups I know, she’s probably among the best. T-That’s not to say I like her or anything, I-I mean look at her bargain basement clothes! She could never be as important as you or me, but at least she knows her place and doesn’t give me too much of a hard time. Considering how pathetic almost everyone else is in school, I suppose she’s kind of okay.”

Miss Bustier turned her attention to her most disruptive student at this juncture, her face torn somewhere between pity and compassion. “Chloe, you don’t have to lie to impress your mother, you know. I saw the way you were playing up for the cameras at home earlier on television, and I just had to come down to see it for myself. Now I’ve heard everything the two of you said, I think I understand more. Why don’t you try telling her the truth, instead? After all, a lie can only last so long. Remember the lovely letter you wrote when you brought me my birthday presen..”

“What is this strange person waffling on about?” Audrey said impatiently, as she wanted so much to get home and immerse herself in lavender-scented heaven. Having never been to any parents open days, of course she wouldn’t have recognized the other adult. “You wouldn’t lie to me Coralin... I mean, Chloe, would you? I mean, lying is fine as long as it’s in aid of a good cause, like getting one over on your closest competitor or grabbing the best seat on the plane, but not to your own flesh and blood. Come on now, spit it out, so we can end this sorry charade once and for all!”

Chloe was caught in a difficult quandary. She glanced first at her mother, the woman that she’d tried for years to impress and had finally managed it. At long last she could spend some ‘quality’ time with her... insulting people, ridiculing them, making them feel like dirt... yeah.

On the other hand, there was Miss Bustier. This poverty-stricken teacher could barely afford a half-decent car, and yet she’d never ceased trying to encourage the blonde to be a better person, even when she’d been at her worst. With all the praise and motivation she got from the irritatingly chipper redhead, Chloe was quite sure she’d never have to be someone she wasn’t to be called ‘exceptional’...

Then, it all clicked.

“M-Mom...” Chloe started nervously, almost as if the wrong word could explode the intently listening fashionista into smithereens. “T-There are a few things you should know about me...”

“Oh really? And what, pray tell, might those be?” Audrey’s face was as stony as the Arc De Triomphe.

“F-For starters, I-I’m not just ‘using’ Sabrina, she’s actually my best friend. Even if sometimes I don’t act like it.” Chloe now put on a more determined look, as years of pent-up secrets and repressed anger rose up to the top. “I also am mostly mean to people to win your affection, a trade-in which I’m beginning to realize might not be worth it for the amount of people who hate me now. It’s the few nice things I’ve done recently, which have made me feel good inside, that have made me see that. Whilst you’ve been gone, I’ve apologized for my bad behaviour, I’ve saved Ladybug’s life on at least two occasions, I just returned the Miraculous when I could’ve quite easily kept it, a-and...”

“And, what?” If Mrs Bourgeois had been taken aback by any of these startling revelations, not a drop of emotion registered through her shades.

“I still love Mr Cuddly!!” Chloe’s words were loud and distinct, and even though she cringed inwardly upon saying them, the heiress was not about to withdraw them now. “I hug him when I’m sad! I go to bed with him at night! He provides a great source of comfort to me, something you never did whilst I was growing up! Every time I felt upset and I came to you for help, it was always ‘Not Now, Chloe’ or ‘Don’t Be Such A Baby, Chloe’. Whilst you were building your Spring Collection, I was crying myself to sleep every night! I needed a mother, not a workaholic! I’m sure Daddy felt the same way, he just was always too terrified to confront you about it! Thanks to you, I still suck my thumb! You can never remember my name or birthday! And now you expect me to carry on being horrible to everyone, just so we have something to ‘bond’ over? W-Well, I don’t want to! Can’t we just go out instead, and get ice cream or something? I know this wonderful singing vendor who sells the best cones this side of the Seine... sure, his voice can get kind of annoying after a while, but if we can ignore that...”

“Enough!! Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!!” Mrs Bourgeois waved her hand contemptuously as if swatting away a fly. “Obviously my initial instincts about you were right all along. You really are ‘unexceptional’, just like your lickspittle of a father. If that’s really how you feel, then clearly I’m wasting my time here. Driver, I’ll overlook your sartorial faux pas this once just as long as you turn your collar inside out so I don’t have to stare at the stain, and most importantly, get me out of here as fast as you can. I’ll be staying at another hotel darling, and I’ll arrange to have the rest of my things sent on. If you ever regain some semblance of sanity, please feel free to join me. If not, then perhaps I’ll pop over for an hour or two Christmas Day. Maybe. Now go, Driver. And don’t take your foot off the pedal until I tell you to.”

As the chauffeur grumbled something probably profane under his breath before speeding her Ladyship off into the distance, Chloe couldn’t help but sink to her knees, almost in tears. 

“I-I hope you’re happy now.” She screeched, trying not to look her teacher straight in the eye, lest she completely break down. “ I-I’ve just lost the one chance I had to forge a serious connection with my mother. W-Why did you have to show up when you did? W-Why did you have to bring up the letter?! W-Why couldn’t you have just left us a-alone...”

Miss Bustier didn’t hesitate any longer. She rushed over to her broken pupil, picked her safely off the ground and gave her a hug of such warmness and tenderness it completely eclipsed the time she’d embraced Chloe on the top of the Eiffel Tower a few short months ago. 

It was only as the blonde’s sobs began to cease and the pooling moisture in her eyes began to dissipate that the teacher began to pull away, with a clear look of pride on her face from the second she locked eyes with her snivelling student.

“Chloe, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I know the person you want to be isn’t the one you are now, and if your mother can’t accept that, that’s something she needs to deal with, not you. All that stuff I teach in class about ‘Being Yourself’ and ‘Standing Up For What You Believe In’? I might see you roll your eyes and scoff through my lessons, but I thought my words might be getting through to you. I now see I was right, all you needed was a little nudge in the right direction. I truly believe today is the start of a new path for you, where all of your dreams will come true and everyone around you, including yourself, will be much happier. Now, seeing as your mother didn’t want to take you, shall we get some ice cream together instead? My treat?”

“Y-Yes, I think I’d like that, Miss Bustier. B-But... do you really think everything will be okay?”

“I do, Chloe. Things have a way of working themselves out, believe it or not. And even if they don’t, you have many people who care about you who’ll help you out, whatever happens next. For now though, shall we try and enjoy ourselves? Before I forget, would you like one scoop, or two?”

“...T-Two I think, Miss Bustier. And afterwards, can we stop off for pizza?” 

[tonystarkbingo]

Week 7 Roundup!  Does anyone else look forward to these not only for the awesome content, but also for that glorious cowboy RDJ pic?  Either way, check out all the awesome stuff that was shared with us this week!

Title: Invincible Summer Collaborator: monobuu Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Fantasy World Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: arranged marriage, misunderstandings, fluff Summary: Tony, a member of the desert-born Iron Tribe, is given away to the White Wolf of the North, the Winter Warlord, as part of a treaty to save his people. Now he must go to the cold northern territories to join his future mate when all he's ever known is the heat of the desert sun. Word Count: 5586

Title: Stark Confections Blueberry Donettes Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A1 - image of Stark Storefront Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art, fluff Summary: What if instead of making weapons, the Starks made snacks?

Title: Art for Such Sweet Revenge by ali_aliska Collaborator: feignedsobriquet Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A1 -  diner / restaurant Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: Tony and Bucky sitting in a diner

Title: Coming Home Contributor: Areiton Square Filled: K4 Presumed Dead Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18130361 Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker Warning: presumed dead, grief/mourning, adult Peter Parker Summary: “They want to plan the funeral,” he says, after a while, and Harley smiles. It’s not a happy smile. It’s the kind of smile he learned from Tony, the kind that is all sharp teeth and threat and it makes Peter shiver. “Tony left plans for that,” he says. “Let them have their spectacle.” Word Count: 2,647

Title: You Got This Collaborator: Trammel Link: AO3 Square Filled: R1 - Denial  Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Endgame trailer spoilers, angst, time travel, Iron Dad Summary: "Dad, it's me," she said. Then he realized she had Pepper's hair - with stripes of green and purple in it - and his eyes. Oh shit. "You're not real," he said to the hallucination.  Word Count: 1047

Title: Polar Opposites Collaborator: mistrstank Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Ransom Note Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: shapeshifters AU, Steve is a troll, fluff and crack Summary: In which Bucky's shift is the best thing Tony has ever seen, no one knows what Tony's shift is and there are explosions. Word Count: 1270

Title: Faith, Against All Logic Collaborator: lbibliophile-mcu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K5 - Robots Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: poetry, Tony’s bots

Title: A WEAB caused this Collaborator: SyoshoHiataki Link: AO3 Square Filled: A3 - Free Space Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: parental Tony and Bucky, somewhat not Steve friendly Summary: Tony Stark hated stupid but genius villains. Now, he and the infamous Winter Soldier were stuck in an alternate world with different Heroes running around. Needless to say, he and Bucky were going to prove that you don't need a Quirk to be a Hero. After all, he was one. Word Count: 1896

Title: Monaco Race Collaborator: ironstrange-is-the-endgame Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - image of Tony in his racing suit Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: digital watercolour

Title: That's what you get for waking up in Vegas Collaborator: cutebutpsyco Link: AO3 Square Filled: A1 -  MIT Years Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Gen Major Tags: Vegas wedding, underage drinking Summary: Tony tried to looking for an answer to that specific question, but there were none that he could provide. He ran a hand in his hair and then went back staring at the empty wall in front of him. “I don’t know, but I’m out of cash and my fake ID isn’t any longer in my wallet, and I think we couldn’t find the key of the room last night.” Word Count: 2567

Collaborator: trashcanakin Link: Tumblr Square Filled: S1 - shapeshifters Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: art, shapeshifters Summary: Fanart to go with mistrstank’s fic “Polar Opposites”

Title: Lullaby In Binary Collaborator: Iron_Eirlyssa (Eirlyssa) Link: AO3 Square Filled: R2 -  Tony in the workshop Ship: Tony & Dum-E Rating: Gen Major Tags: protective Dum-E Summary: DUM-E will take care of his creator, even when said creator is being stubborn about it. Word Count: 875

Title: Best Bot Dum-E: Bedtime Enthusiast Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: T1 - humor Ship: Tony & Dum-E Rating: Gen Major Tags: fluff and humor, bot fic Summary: Dum-e is a very good helper bot. Steve witnesses him being helpful in an unexpected way. Tony will probably have a few small bruises... Word Count: 1068

Title: New Signature On The Network Collaborator: Lacrimula_Falsa Link: AO3 Square Filled: A5 - image of JARVIS Ship: Tony Stark and his bots Rating: Teen Major Tags: angst, character death, bots Summary: Dum-E meets Vision for the first time. Word Count: 715

Title: Let it Lie Collaborator: yuuki_Illene Link: AO3 Square Filled: R2 - Dark Alleys Ship: Tony Stark & Bucky Barnes Rating: Not rated Major Tags: angst, recovery, hurt/comfort Summary: It begins with Tony in an alleyway and getting mugged. But what has already been stolen is best left in the dark. “Dude, chill,” he gasps out as quickly as possible, slapping the mugger’s muscular arm with his normal hand. “And if you’re going to say money or your life like some kind of cheap mugger I’m gonna be real disappointed.” Word Count: 3313

Title: The Doom Of All Men... Is To Be Flirted With Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - doom Ship: Pepperony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Team Iron Man, not Team Cap friendly Summary: Look, Tony likes being flirted with as much as the next person but he has standards, you know. Word Count: 805

Title: I Don't Mind You Comin' Here Collaborator: chase_acow Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - slime Ship: IronFalcon Rating: Explicit Major Tags: shower sex, explicit sexual content Summary: There was a lot Tony would do for the man he loved, but slime of questionable provenance would make him hesitate a bit. Word Count:

Title: Sins Of The Father Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 - Hank Pym Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: redemption, not Team Cap friendly Summary: When Hank Pym requests a meeting, Tony isn't expecting much in the way of good things. He's pleasantly surprised. Word Count: 1529   

Title: Fixed Point Collaborator: notsopowerfulowl (theowlgalaxy) Link: AO3 Square Filled: S5 - hugs Ship: Pepperony Rating: Teen Major Tags: hurt/comfort, insomnia, PTSD, implied/referenced abuse Summary: Sometimes it takes soft words and gentle touches to bring Tony back from a nightmare. Word Count: 937

Title: Earth's Best Defender Collaborator: mariana_oconnor Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 -  art format: stained glass Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: My first fill for the Tony Stark Bingo. Some of the details were lost when I scanned it into the computer, but it looks okay. Done in watercolour first, then the lines added with ink.

Title: R5- Seeing Red Collaborator: thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: R5 - seeing red Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: post-Endgame, no spoilers. Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting Summary: Inspired by this post on tumblr: there’s tons of fics w howard appearing in the future and steve or tony telling howard how badly he fucked up but consider: rhodey taking one look at that piece of shit and fucking DECKING him in front of god and everybody Word Count: 1005   

Title: Not a damsel in distress Collaborator: alexisriversong Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 -  Damsels (and others) in distress Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: hurt Tony Summary: Tony gets kidnapped, Bucky wants to save him but Tony is already saving himself. Word Count: 924

Title: Let me Sum Up Collaborator: tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Tony as the Sorcerer Supreme Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: time travel, sorcerers, Tony needs a hug Summary: Tony has a big problem-- and several medium sized ones, and a dozen little ones… but mostly… what the hell is he supposed to say? Word Count: 939

Title: Playing Human - Chapter One Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: K3 - Myths and Legends Ship: ThunderIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Dark Tony, Extremis Tony Summary: loosely based on the concept from American Gods (which i've neither seen nor read) that our gods are created from the things we "worship" the most - and Tony Stark is the god of modern technology Word Count: 2223

Title: Playing Human - Chapter Two Collaborator: rainbowshoes Link: AO3 Square Filled: T4: Good Guys Gone Bad Ship: ThunderIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Dark Tony, Extremis Tony Summary: loosely based on the concept from American Gods (which i've neither seen nor read) that our gods are created from the things we "worship" the most - and Tony Stark is the god of modern technology Word Count: 2223 

Title: Try, Try Again Collaborator: 27dragons Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - Time Travel Ship: IronStrange Rating: Teen Major Tags: time travel, marriage proposal Summary: It’s a very important date, and Stephen is determined that everything will be perfect. Everything. Word Count: 2371

Title: take me like a victorian dame Collaborator: yuuki_Illene Link: AO3 Square Filled: A1 -  KINK: mirrors Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content, dorks in love, fluff and crack Summary: It starts an engagement announcement in an elaborate dress before they start going down at it in an elevator. Word Count: 2781

Title: Sacrifice Collaborator: martianwahtney Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 -  Conflicting Obligations / Oaths Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Soul Stone, Endgame spoilers Summary: Tony Stark visits Vormir alone. The Soul Stone demands a sacrifice. Tony insists he's sacrificed enough. The Stone puts him up for evaluation. Word Count: 1168

Title: Done This Before Collaborator: Tuessday Square: S4 "Kink: Collars" Rating: Explicit Warnings: NAWA, but be aware of age gap, kidnapping and the aftermath of violence/captivity, BDSM, bad BDSM (leave it as read this is fiction and not a good guide for how to), bondage, consensual violence, characters being bad at communicating things they probably really should. Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Summary: Peter hadn't ever really thought about it. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18228557 Word Count: 4414

Title: rouge Collaborator: scarynoodles Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 Ship: Stony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: angst, pining, explicit sexual content Summary: His eyes are the most striking thing about him. He likes to think it’s his goatee, or even the reactor when he still had it, but no, it’s his eyes. Those dark, warm, expressive eyes the color of whiskey when the sunlight hits them just right. Steve is in love with those eyes, he loves seeing them bright and happy because then they sparkle even in the darkest of places. It hurts him whenever they’re dull, depressed, hidden by flashing red shades the color of anger and aggression. Word Count: 1667

Title: Baby, I Wasn’t Expecting You Collaborator: FreyaS Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 -  silver haired Tony Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: pining, identity porn, happy ending Summary: Bucky walked into the bar with his last twenty and a scowl that could have peeled rust off of iron, slapping the bill on the bartop with his prosthetic hand. “Gimme the strongest thing this’ll buy,” he snapped. The bartender took one look at Bucky before he unscrewed the serving tip off of a bottle of rum and handed him the half-full bottle. Bucky grinned, all teeth, and poured himself a generous serving into a glass and knocked back the drink with his good hand. “Whoa there, might want to slow down,” a voice said from his left. He turned sharply and almost lost his breath as he met the gaze of the most beautiful man he’d seen in a while. He was clearly older. Silver threaded through his hair and was peppered in his well-groomed goatee, but he wore his age well. His whiskey brown eyes were crinkled into a smile and his soft pink lips were quirked up as he sipped from a glass full of a clear but sparkling liquid with a lime wedge on the rim. (Or Bucky meets the man of his dreams and proceeds to get cockblocked by babies, his family, and Tony himself, before he finally gets his happily ever after.) Word Count: 10,163

Title: Trust Collaborator: katling  Link: AO3 Square Filled: S5 -  MIT Years Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: Shifter AU Summary: Rhodey finally finds out that Tony is a shifter and what his form is. It doesn't happen in quite the way Tony wanted but it all works out okay. Word Count: 1772

[youre-not-a-cat-youre-a-rat]

Title: “When You Speak French...” (1/1)

(AO3)

Rated E

Summary:

“He loved making love. Not in the physical, sexual sense - though she could bet he liked that too. But in that old-world, courtly, talking dirty behind a respectable veil of suggestion, way. Except, on him, and with a face he knew looked like it did...Respectable? Only barely.”

Worried about Hook post 4x12, Emma goes to check on him. They talk. They Netflix. They chill.

Emma was thinking of Killian when she walked back into the loft after dropping Regina and Henry off at their place.

She’d been thinking of him all the way back from the empty house, since Henry mentioned villains and happy endings, even. Or, no, it was more accurate to say that he’d been distracting her since she kissed him goodbye at Granny’s with a promise to call him tomorrow. He’d given her that rueful smile, just as he always did when they parted. But this time it was a little more...bleak?

And really, Killian had been on her mind since their weird, stiff encounter that afternoon, the wrongness of which she now knew she had Gold to thank for.

She swallowed the bitterness that rose, thinking of the day’s events. Man, if she was feeling this twisted, Belle must be doing terrible.

This was the problem, that somewhere between the time she’d followed Henry to Storybrooke and now, she’d started to think of everyone’s well being as her responsibility. Case in point Regina comparing her to her own speech-making mother that night.

Maybe that was part of the reason she’d been so eager to run after their showdown with Zelena.

Maybe it was lucky for her overtaxed emotional capacity that Hook had seemed so damn untrustworthy when they’d first met. It had meant she didn’t have to worry about him too. Funny that now he was starting to mean more to her than anyone. Minus her son.

“Emma?”

She was jerked out of her thoughts by Mary Margaret who sat at their kitchen table cradling Neal, David nursing a cup of coffee in the chair next to them.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Uh,” Emma said, realizing she’d been standing in the doorway for much too long. “Yeah.”

David stood and walked over to lay a hand on her shoulder, peering at her.

“Are you sure, honey?” Snow asked. As usual, they acted like they shared a mind as well as a heart. Must come in handy.

“Actually,” Emma said, lifting her thumb vaguely to point behind her, “I think...I’m gonna go...”

David’s brow furrowed.

“...check on Killian,” Emma finished.

Her parents donned twin expressions of measured surprise.

“It’s a little late,” David said.

“Yeah, I might just…” Emma felt her face heat, remembering who she was talking to. “Ah.” She cleared her throat. “I might just...spend the night at Granny’s. Or whatever.”

There was a pause as this sank in. David lifted his hand from her shoulder. “Okay. That’s...that’s alright.”

Emma raised her eyebrows.

“I mean - You’re an adult. You don’t need our permission to - ” David’s face began to resemble a tomato. “You can do whatever - ”

“Please stop,” said Emma.

“That’s perfectly fine, Emma,” Snow said, serene, burping Neal absently. “Thank you for letting us know.”

“Great,” Emma mumbled, turning to go.

“Have a good time,” Snow said.

An odd choking noise came from David. Emma turned to see her mother still looking carefully innocent. Snow smiled over Neal’s knit-cap-covered head.

Emma stepped out into the hall and Snow called “Be safe!”

Emma yanked the door shut on more squawking from her father.

Killian was still dressed when he answered the door. Emma briefly wondered what pirates wore to bed before she could stop herself, exasperated. She cursed her mother too, for good measure. Despite what anyone might think, that wasn’t what she was here for.

“Swan?” he said in greeting, confused. She liked that he called her by her last name. She liked a lot of things about him.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s late-”

“Did something happen? Is everything…?”

He reminded her of the day she’d asked him out on their first date,

“Everything’s fine, no crisis...that I know of…” She trailed off, not sure how to continue. She didn’t have much experience with this part. The talking part. She’d been okay at it with Walsh, but everything about that relationship was a toss up, what with the flying monkey factor. Hook seemed to sense her discomfort, though, because he stepped back wordlessly to let her in.

She hadn’t been in his room since they’d officially started dating.

It looked like he’d settled in. More so than she had during her brief stay at the inn. She recognized his old coat in the closet, tails hanging past his other jackets. There were books on the desk, some leather-bound, some paperback, sitting in a row next to the obligatory bottle of rum. His jacket hung over the back of the chair. He had two lamps lit, low. Good lighting for spilling your soul in whispers. Emma licked her lips.

She felt his hand, warm, on her back, as he crossed in front of her to pull out the desk chair.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked when she’d sat and he’d found another chair for himself. He reached for the rum and the glasses and poured for her first. He was trying to relax her and it made her smile. But she still took a decent swallow after they’d clinked their glasses.

She took a moment to study him, trying to guess how much of his appearance was artful dishabille and how much was stress, if any. Was it just the liner that made his eyes look dark? Was his hair mussed from fairy-tale, pirate product, or had he been running his hand through it out of frustration.

He just stared back, waiting.

“How are you?” she asked, finally.

He blinked and broke into that wide grin. All sharp teeth and incorrigible rascal. “Worried about me, love?”

She didn’t smile back. “Yes.”

His grin disappeared. “I told you, Swan -”

“I know,” she said quickly. She didn’t want him thinking she was doubting him. “I know,” she repeated, gentler, and looked him in the eye. “I’m a survivor too. So I know that living through something doesn’t mean you feel like roses afterwards.”

There was that shift in his eyes again. The bleakness. He looked away, the way he did sometimes. The way she did sometimes. They’d become quite a pair, bumping into each other’s insecurities, shying away from the spotlight of each other’s stare. Emma wasn’t discouraged. It was her turn to prod, her turn to coax, her turn to catch him if he decided to take a leap of faith.

She considered how to continue. If the situation were reversed he’d have some great declaration of devotion all keyed up for her. She thought about pouring him more rum, but that felt wrong, forceful, in a weird passive way. Instead she took his glass from him, laid her hand over his.

“You remember when Walsh turned into a monkey and tried to push me off the roof of my apartment in New York?”

He blinked, pulled out of his brooding enough for his head to cock, his lips to twitch.

“Part of what sucked about it - part of what hurt - was that I thought I was past this. This choosing the wrong guy thing...this superpower failing me thing. But there I was again, wrong. Wrong about...me. I thought I was past this kind of mistake, but I guess I wasn’t.”

A slow, bitter smile spread across Killian’s face. “Aye, Swan. I thought I was smarter than falling for Gold’s tricks after a few centuries, but I suppose not.”

Emma sighed in frustration. “Not what I meant.”

“But it’s true isn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Yes you do, you were in that clocktower. I must secretly love being the Dark One’s puppet since I always find myself playing the role.” He practically spat the words.

Emma suppressed the urge to wince. Yeah. Whatever progress she’d thought she’d made with relationships when she’d been with Walsh had definitely been a fluke. She clutched Killian’s hand, wishing she could quiet whatever he was thinking - feeling - magically through physical contact. She cast a round for what to say. For the right fucking thing to say.

Quietly, a stab in the dark, she asked, “Tell me how it happened?”

He glanced at her, vulnerable. It made Emma scared, scared she wouldn’t catch him right. Scared she wouldn’t be able to comfort him.

“I did, you know. Sort of.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t comment. It sounded like a start.

“Left you a message on your device. But Gold destroyed it.”

Emma caught herself before she blurted That’s where it went?! Not the time. Instead she stroked his wrist with her thumb and listened. Listened to him recount his side of their first date.

She didn’t realize that her grip on him was tightening, that her jaw was tensing, until he stopped to murmur, “Love?” all concerned.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to relax. Jeez, what kind of look must she have had on her face? “I just  thought that was a good night for us. Like we pressed pause on all the magical drama to have a normal date. Or as normal as we get, anyway.”

“It should have been, Emma. I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “For what? It’s not your fault Gold’s a rat.”

He looked a little surprised at her vehemence, but he plowed on. “But I should have told you.”

Emma nodded slowly looking at their hands. At some point during his story she’d wound up sandwiching his between both of hers. The metal of his rings had grown warm. “You should have,” she said, “but I get why you didn’t.”

He shook his head, the bleak look back. “I can’t tell you how much I hated myself for it when I found you at that empty house.”

Emma squeezed his hand again, frustrated. “Stop that. I was so distracted with the magic stuff, then. But I could tell, later, there was something weird going on with you. I wish I’d -” she broke off and laughed at herself, bitterly.

“What?”

“I was almost jealous of Belle in that clocktower, you know?” She couldn’t help smiling bitterly. “Not because of her miserable situation, just...she knows Gold so well. He was keeping things from her too, but she put it all together with so few of the pieces. I wish I could have done that for you. Figured out what was happening, I mean, not...kick you out of town.”

Killian winced. “Aye. And I’d rather not be compared to the bloody Crocodile.”

She blinked. “You’re not. You’re nothing like him. I wouldn’t be…” She sighed, trying to explain herself. “I’ve had more than enough of relationships where someone isn’t being...true with me.”

Killian stiffened, his eyes wide with regret, and Emma rushed to soothe him, hands cupping his face and drawing him close.

“Hey,” she murmured, trying to pour her conviction into him through their shared gaze, “That’s what I mean. You’re not like that. You’re just...like me. Used to taking care of things alone.”

Killian breathed out, heavy. “Yes,” he said, wholehearted.

She ran her thumb back and forth over his beard. “I guess we have our work cut out for us if we want to start taking things on together.”

He covered her hand with his, and gazed at her. “We just have to remember that we make a good team.”

She smiled, recognizing the echo from the beanstalk. “Yeah. We do.”

She felt his body shift in a sigh again, eyes full of peace. She felt a surge of satisfaction at having put it there. He stroked a lock of her hair, lazy, and she nudged forward to kiss him. Soft and sharply sweet, the way most of their kisses had been after Neverland.

When they pulled away, he glanced at the clock on his desk, resigned. “It’s late,” he said.

“Right,” she said. “I...I was thinking I’d stay.”

Killian stared at her.

“Not to...do anything if - I mean - Not that - That’d be fine if -”

“Thank you,” Killian murmured, cutting off her waffling, with a little smile. Emma felt that surge again. It was more than satisfaction, it was preening pride, it was fierce protectiveness.

After a moment, Emma realized they’d lapsed into silence, staring at each other.

Oh.

This was something she hadn’t thought of.

The awkward bit after the cathartic talk. Great.

Emma rubbed her hands on her jeans. She was nervous now that they’d settled it, unsteady with the force of all she was feeling. Killian watched her fidget. Was that a lip twitch? Was he laughing at her?

Finally she blurted, “I thought we could watch a movie.” She paused to reign in the volume. “You know, since you’re really gonna need to know what movies are. Especially if you keep hanging around my kid.”

“Yes, he’s mentioned them a few times,” Killian said, seemingly unperturbed by her weird mood shift. There was definitely a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, they’re…” Emma waffled. “Moving pictures. Motion pictures, is what they’re called. They’re like...plays? Recorded plays.”

He blinked at her. No comment apparently.

She reached for her bag figuring it would be easier to just get to it than explain. She’d picked it up from the floor by the desk, and pulled out her laptop. Killian’s chair creaked as he leaned back, relaxed, to watch her.

“I thought I could show you what they’ve got on Netflix and you could pick one that looks interesting.”

He shrugged, of course, probably not understanding her, but not seeming to care. “I’m sure I’ll like whatever you choose, love.” His voice was throaty with contentedness.

She took his cue, skimming through the Netflix categories. Back to the Future, wasn’t available for streaming...she thought he might start picking at inaccuracies if they watched Pirates of the Caribbean...

She hesitated over The Addams Family. Good comfort fare. Though she worried Thing might be kind of insensitive, but Killian only snorted at her description. “As my hand didn’t actually turn out to have a mind of its own, I think I’ll be able to handle it.”

She reached over to touch his hook. “You don’t want me or Regina to try and reattach it for you?”

“Do you care whether or not I have it?”

Emma frowned “No.”

“That’s what I assumed,” he said. “And I find I’m liking myself better now than as I used to be.” He shrugged. “And, for better or worse, what I am now is a man with a hook.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, “I can understand that. I’ve found I like myself better now, too. And I like you. As you are.” She smiled to herself. “I like us.”

Killian huffed a laugh. “Aye, love. So do I.”

Emma’s stomach had started to do an embarrassing sort of flutter whenever Killian laughed. Especially when she was the one who made him laugh. “Well, anyway,” she said gruffly, turning back to the computer, “I think you’ll like this one? Everyone wears a lot of black, and there’s swordfights and chivalry and...French.”

He grinned. “A oui?”

“Oui,” she said back, smirking.

She set the computer on the bed and sat next to it to yank off her boots.

She noticed him staring at her from his chair and she slowed her movements, letting the leather slide from her fingers.

She thought she saw a flicker of possessiveness in his eyes before he stood to move her shoes by the door, toeing off his own boots and placing them next to hers.

She stood too, to shuck off her jacket and he appeared behind her to assist. She felt his breath stir her hair and suppressed a shiver. Woa. Relax.

She sat back down on the bed, folding her legs like a pretzel and tucking her hair behind her ears. She watched as Killian walked back to the bed, flicking open the buttons on his left sleeve.

Emma was careful not to react. But she couldn't help the way her senses heightened, the way her focus narrowed on his fingers rolling back the fabric, on the slow reveal of dark hair and pink scar tissue and leather straps.

This was new. Not just her seeing him without his brace. Not just their spending the night together. But the simple intimacy of getting comfortable around each other. Of settling in to lounge together, not a common luxury in their case.

It was so domestic. She should be freaking the hell out. Maybe later she would be. But now she was too busy soaking it in. All of him. Long and dark and lean, often dangerous, but now vulnerable, in his socked feet. Trusting, shit, so damn at ease, as he undid the buckles on the straps. He tugged the brace off, hook and all, and dropped it on the night stand. Then he climbed over her, crowding her for a moment, but not touching her - not even brushing her by accident - as he moved around her to the empty space on the other side of the bed. His scent surrounded her, always managing to remind her of the sea, clear and salty. She hitched a breath.

He caught her eye as he settled next to her and betrayed himself with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Exasperated, Emma gave him her best unamused glare and moved the laptop closer to start the movie. He chuckled as he slid his arm around her shoulder. Emma reached over and pulled his stump into her lap. She felt him stiffen, and was about to let go when he relaxed again. She slipped her hand under his sleeve and squeezed.

They both turned their attention to her laptop.

She caught his bewildered look at the opening with the carolers, but he laughed at Wednesday's shooting the apple in Pugsley’s mouth, and smirked at Morticia and Gomez’s flirting.

“The girl reminds me of you.”

“She does?”

“Aye. Weren’t you a little trouble maker as a lass?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Weren’t you?”

He mirrored her expression. “Oh yes.”

She grinned.

They were silent for a while - he, absorbed in the movie, and she, absorbed in him being absorbed in the movie. She felt him twitch every now and then at the more jarring smash cuts or pans, and she stroked his wrist to soothe him. She felt the pucker in his skin from the scars and wondered if it would be weird if she pushed his sleeve back to kiss them.

The auction scene came. Maybe her anticipation was a little sharper as she waited for his reaction. If there was one thing Killian loved (and could relate to), it was being a flirt.

He loved making love. Not in the physical, sexual sense - though she could bet he liked that too. But in that old-world, courtly, talking dirty behind a respectable veil of suggestion, way. Except, on him, and with a face he knew looked like it did...Respectable? Only barely. Emma had been amused to find herself on the receiving end of it. Among other things.

Sometimes she wondered if she really rose to the challenge of all his double entendres. She did alright, in her own dry way, she thought. But now and then, over the last few months (and even, if she was honest with herself, before they’d started dating), she’d found herself worrying he didn’t find her a satisfying enough flirt.

All this to say, Gomez and Morticia were orgasmically outbidding each other when she glanced at Killian just as he glanced at her.

Coward that she was, Emma looked away too quickly to read his expression. But she could feel his body tense slightly around her. Christ, she hadn’t been quite so aware of how much they were touching until now. She was pressed into him, hip to hip, his body warm through the knit of her top.

“Have you ever done it in public?”

There was a pause where she guessed he was registering that she had actually blurted out that ridiculous non-sequitur.

“Excuse me?” His voice was carefully neutral.

Emma’s cheeks were flaming, but she still nudged her chin towards the couple mauling each other in the middle of a crowded room. “Has that ever been you?” she asked, forcing herself to watch his reaction.

The smile that unfurled at that comment was one of his more evil ones. “Gentlemen never tell,” he said.

Emma stared at him. “Gentlemen don’t look like a cat who just made a meal of a whole bunch of canaries.”

He shook his head, smirk guarding his stupid sex secrets, and turned the question on her. “And you lass? Have you ever lost control with an audience?”

She scrunched her nose. “I was never much for PDA.”

He gave her an infinitely patient look

“Public Displays of Affection,” she explained, sheepish.

“Ah,” he said. “No, you wouldn’t.”

She shifted to get a better look at his face. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t take offense, love,” he said with a gentle smile. She felt his fingers carding through the  hair on her shoulder. “I like that you’re private. You’re protective of the things you love because you love them so fiercely.”

Oof. Emma felt that giddy fluttery feeling take ahold of her again. He had to stop ambushing her with stuff like that. “Thank you,” she said, softly.

“For what, love?” he said, just as softly. “It’s the truth.”

She had too look away again, shy. That’s what unsettled her about him. He made her shy.

“Maybe once or twice, to answer your question,” he said.

She gave him a withering look, but was grateful that he’d switched back to playful.

“I’ve certainly imagined it more than once with you.”

That made her ears perk. “Have you?”

“Aye.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Especially at the sheriff’s station.”

Emma snorted.

“Never thought I’d take a liking to shackles, but when it’s you doing the shackling...”

She stared at him. “You’re not serious.”

He grinned. “You doubt me?”

“Are you saying if I slapped cuffs on you right now -”

“Well, not for our first time.”

Their first time. The words sounded bolded. A title. Emma and Killian’s First Time. Emma could feel the blood drain from her face.

“Emma, what is it?”

She resisted the urge to say Nothing. She’d decided not to hide things from this man. Still, her words came out a bit too clipped when she said, “You have it all planned out then? Perfect? With candles and rose petals and champagne probably.”

“I…” He looked at her, a little bewildered. “I hadn’t made plans, no...”

Guilt stabbed her. She opened her mouth to explain herself.

“But of course I’ve thought of it,” Killian went on. “I’ve thought of you,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Many a time. Sometimes with champagne and candles, sometimes with handcuffs. Sometimes on my ship if it were truly to be perfect. On the deck under the stars, or in my cabin, shutting out the rest of the world.” His voice had lowered, his accent making the words liquid. His eyes were as dark and as warm as the scenes he described. “Sometimes at your loft with everyone else gone, in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?” Emma mumbled, somehow quipping through the haze. His lips twitched.

“Aye. When you’re leading the room as if it’s a war council. You’ll say something particularly practical, or determined, or witty. And I’ll imagine dropping to my knees right there and tasting you. Your quim sweet and wet on my tongue. Worshipping you properly, as you should be.”

Emma sucked in a breath, his words and the rasp in his voice trailing down her spine. So much for respectability.

She was even more shocked when he looked away, when she saw the pink on his ears.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said. “I didn’t mean to -”

“Keep going,” she said.

His gaze snapped to hers. He licked his lips and obliged, voice drawing quieter, reverent. “Sometimes you’re here,” he breathed. “When I’ve spent all day with you or when I’ve hardly seen you at all. When some miserable threat is plaguing the town. When I can’t sleep for some worry or when I’m dreaming, you’re here. You’re in my bed.” His eyes traveled the length of her.

She felt the look like a touch, like his hands dragging over her skin, like his mouth pressing against her, breath hot.

When he met her eyes again, his held that wry glint, that humor heavy with feeling. “I’m never rid of the thought, love. Never rid of you. You torture me.”

That was enough. That was enough for her mouth to find his. His clever, beautiful, sad mouth, slanting over hers with a groan. The arm around her shoulders catching her to him, locking them together. His body long and warm and firm against her breasts, her stomach. His hair soft under her fingers, his beard scratching her cheeks and her palm. His taste as she licked into his mouth, tongue massaging hers, hot and decadent.

Good. He was good. Very good at this. Not a new thought, but it was a miracle Emma was thinking at all in this state. She was all instinct and sensation, all of her focus occupied by the need to take this man, to devour him and be devoured by him, until they forgot all of their wounds, until they forgot their own names. Until there was nothing left but each other.

Fuck, she was wet. She could feel the thrill between her legs as she swung one over his hips to ease the ache. Her foot smacked something but she didn’t register it until a loud clatter made them both jump.

“The device,” Killian said, thickly, peering over the side of the bed. His hair looked thoroughly wild from all of the damage she’d inflicted on it. Emma bit her lip to keep a nervous laugh from escaping her.

Killian glanced at her. “Should we…?”

“Yeah. Uh.” Emma disentangled herself from him, her body protesting rather loudly, and picked up the computer. It was running fine, fan still whirring obnoxiously in her hands. She considered asking him if he wanted to finish the movie. She considered tossing the thing out the window and attacking him again.

“Are you...alright?” he asked, still hesitant, awkward, which was very weird for him. “I’m sorry if I -”

“No!” Emma jumped in. “I’m sorry, I know we’ve never talked about it before. Not really.”

Killian scratched his ear “I’m usually much more adept at this.”

“Me too,” she said. “I think it’s just been a long time since I’ve done it with someone I cared about.”

He gazed at her. “We’re in the same boat then.”

Emma turned away and placed the laptop back on his desk, fussing. “I really didn’t mean to do this tonight.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he repeated. “Did you have plans for us, then, Swan? Champagne and roses?”

She smiled at the tease. “I guess I didn’t want to assume how you felt.”

Killian nodded, lips quirked. “Well, you know how I feel now.” He gave her her a prompting look. “Why don’t you tell me how you feel?”

Emma grimaced. “That’s something I’ve never been good at.”

He didn’t comment, only watched her, expectant, accepting.

“I feel…” she felt hot, she felt uncomfortable, an itch under her skin. She felt like her bra was too tight. She seized the whim and reached behind her, under her top, to unhook it.

His eyes widened as he watched her pull the straps  through her sleeves and slip the whole thing out from under her shirt. She brandished it awkwardly. “It’s, uh…”

“Stays,” he guessed, his eyes flicking back to hers, amused.

Emma huffed a laugh as she tossed the bra away. “Yeah, stays.” She tossed the bra somewhere and ran her hands through her hair as she approached him, not quite meeting his eyes.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes either but she discovered it was because he was staring at her chest. Emma bit down on another laugh. Typical.

He placed his hand on her waist, big and warm. She abruptly lost her mirth. His thumb stroked her side through her top. He dragged it up to the side of her breast and she clutched his shoulder to steady herself. “Have they gotten more comfortable?” he asked, voice deceptively light.

She blinked.

His lips twitched. “Stays,” he clarified.

Smirking, she took his hand and guided it under her top, ran his fingers over where the wire had left an indent in her skin. She heard him breathe in, stroking along the mark, frowning. Then he leaned in and kissed her through her top, underneath her breast, mouth hot and not even close to where she needed it.

Emma swallowed.

He leaned up and drew her into a light, teasing little kiss. “Tell me what you feel, Emma,” he goaded against her lips.

She gripped the fabric at his shoulders, gathering his shirt and vest in her fists. “I feel like you should lose this,” she murmured back.

He smiled into another kiss, and started undoing buttons.

Emma took her hands away from his shoulders, wanting to draw out the anticipation. Usually she had no patience for frivolous titillation or sweet nothings. But Killian was all about sweet nothings, and she wanted to let this nervous want grow, wanted to see where it would lead. She dug her nails into her jeans as he finished with the vest and tugged his shirt out of his pants.

She watched the strip of chest he was always showing off grow longer. She remembered him throwing off his raggedy disguise at the base of the beanstalk, smug and preening. Emma had always had kind of a thing for hairy men, though any appreciative thoughts she might have had about his looks at that time were quickly followed by annoyance.

It wasn’t the last time ogling his cleavage had left her feeling confused. She remembered glancing at it dubiously when they were at Zelena’s snowy farmhouse. She might have even snapped an “Aren’t you cold?” at him at one point. He’d responded with a knowing grin. She’d watched him out of the corner of her eye during lunches at the station, or traipsing through the woods looking for the latest monster. But now she could look at him unimpeded, no monsters, no hidden agenda, just Killian.

She felt like she was unwrapping him, pushing the clothing off his shoulders and kneeling between his knees. She felt his pulse drumming under his jaw. Thumbed the chain around his neck. He sat still, such a freaking gentleman. She moved her hands down between his pecks, brushed the hair outwards, let his nipple pop up between her index and middle finger. She studied it, relishing the way his chest pressed into her hand with his sharp intake of breath. She moved on, running her palms down his torso. She scratched a nail lightly through his goody trail, following it down to where it disappeared into his waistband. She hesitated there, wanting to just grip him through the leather, see her investigation to the end. But this wasn’t her usual one night stand, not her usual brazen routine.

He caught her hand in his and tipped his forehead to hers. “Now you?” he rasped, and it steadied her, knowing he was as affected as she.

Emma yanked off the knit top without preamble. Killian made a sound that almost sounded like a sigh. He gathered her close again. She rubbed his legs, forcing herself to hold still, to let him look his fill. He stroked her collar with his knuckles, she shivered from the cold of his rings and he murmured something wordless and soothing, leaning forward to kiss the place he’d touched. She shivered again, digging her nails into his legs.

He chuckled. “Impatient love?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

He kissed his way down to her right breast, brief, open-mouthed, sucking kisses, nipping at her skin. She gasped when he lapped once, long and teasing against her nipple before drawing it into his mouth.

The sound she made was mortifying. He looked up at her, mouth around her breast, eyes hungry and satisfied, desperate and predatory. Emma remembered his kitchen fantasy and was hit with the sudden vivid image of him giving her the same look from between her legs.

“Fuck,” she muttered. She seized his face between her hands and dragged him up to kiss him into next week. They collapsed on the bed and she fell flush against him, wiry and hot and everywhere. Hair tickling her nipples, pendants on his necklace scratching her skin. She groaned and he growled, rolling them, leveraging himself with his knees so that he could grind that hard ridge right against her core. She clasped her legs tight around his waist.

Suddenly he tore his mouth from hers, and Emma blinked, dizzy and confused as she watched him twist off the first of his rings with his teeth. He cursed when the second one gave him trouble and glanced at her wildly. “Get them off,” he ordered, gruffly.

“Huh?” was all Emma could manage.

“Get them. Off.” He bit out the words, and Emma moved to comply, irritated through the haze of desire. Maybe he sensed this because he let out a strangled laugh before leaning in to nuzzle her neck. “Please love,” he whispered hoarsely. Her fingers slipped on the metal when he bit her gently. Fumbling, she managed to get them all off while he nipped at her earlobe.

For a guy with only one hand, he sure managed to make it feel like he was touching her everywhere at once. Stroking down her back, thumbing her nipple, dragging over her stomach and sliding home - right into her underwear.

He swallowed her stuttered gasp with a kiss. He petted her hair, parted it to stroke through her folds. Emma had the stray thought that he’d been insistent about taking off his rings for her comfort. Fucking gentleman.

He found her clit, brushing against the hood with his fingertip. He broke their kiss to watch her as he covered her whole mound with his hand and placed the heel of his palm right against that sensitive little bundle. He rubbed, stroking her lips, grinding lightly against her, making just enough friction to flip the switch, to make her arch up against his unyielding body.

“You’re to tell me how you like it, love,” he said, fingers playing at her entrance.

“I like that,” she whispered. “I’d like it more if you’d get the hell in me.”

She groaned as he sunk a finger into her folds, his thumb stroking her clit. He kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. “I could be dreaming right now,” he said, “except you feel too good to be a figment of my imagination.”

“Same,” was her inspired reply.

But he laughed. “Is it?” She gasped as he hit a particularly good spot, and his brow furrowed, mouth open to mirror hers. “Do you dream of this, too, Swan?”

She would have teased him about fishing for compliments, but he was so focused on her, drinking in her face, studying her reactions as he touched her. She found herself sniping, “Yeah, I think about you. When you’re annoying me I think about shutting you up.” He laughed, flicked her clit again. She hissed.

“Or when you scare me, running off into danger when I tell you not to,” he hummed consolingly at that, “I think about torturing you.”

He froze for a moment. Fixed her with a look of mock disapproval, but didn’t speak. She licked her lips, pushed on. “When you tell me something sweet or supportive, or when you’re just -” he brushed that place again, deep and tender inside her, “there. When I need you and you’re there.” Her breath started to come in short pants. “A lot - I think about you - All the time. I just never get too far. I don’t like fantasies because then reality doesn’t hold up. That’s how it usually is.”

He’d eased off the pressure as she talked, circling around her clit. But now something flashed in his eyes and he dove into her again.

Emma let out a cry - a cry, like a gothic novel heroine - and gripped his shoulder. “And?” He asked. “Is it a disappointment?”

She would have laughed at the drama of the statement if she weren’t so out of her mind with sensation. His thumb still kept attention on her clit while his other fingers worked, ruthless, on that place that made her teeth clench with its intensity.

Oh god, she was overwhelmed. By his touch and his voice and his kiss, which he groaned into as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t resist her. The kiss was wild and harsh, he was set loose, free to do all he threatened in looks, in flirtations. All those things she never knew how to respond to, now she could do nothing but respond. She was too far gone to know anything at all except him, surrounding her, inside her. He tore his lips away from her to watch her, his hair was a mess again, his face a mask of concentration and wild yearning that mirrored her own, eyes huge and blue. It was him. Finally.

Her orgasm ripped through her, the tension expanding, exploding, shooting out to her fingertips, to her toes. The rush unending and anchored by his fingers speared into her, by his gaze enveloping her, muttering words of encouragement.

It felt as if the whole night had passed when it was over. As if every thought and discomfort had been scooped right out of her. Killian slid his fingers out of her and sucked them clean. She shuddered watching him.

“No,” she said.

He looked at her.

“Not a disappointment.”

His eyes glazed over with a heady satisfaction, and he leaned down to tease her with a kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue.

Her fingers unclenched, sticky with sweat, and she realized she’d been clutching his rings in her fist the whole time. She presented them to him.

He rubbed her thigh with his wrist as he took them. She wondered at her pants still being on.

“We can stop here,” he said. “If you want.”

She stared at him. “Is that what you want?”

His brows twitched, and he glanced at the ceiling with a dry expression. “I think we’ve established that I want you all the time.”

“And what do you want to do with me?” Emma prodded.

“Whatever you want, love,” he prodded back.

“Okay,” she said, through with the preamble. She gripped his shoulders flipped them both sloppily with a tilt of her hips. She sucked in a breath as she landed on the bulge in his pants, which seemed to have grown more significant during her interlude. His eyes fell closed as she rubbed against him, lazy and feline, listening to his breath hitch. She felt the fuse spark again, as easy as if he’d snapped his ridiculously talented fingers.

“I want this,” she purred through his groan. He arched up to capture her mouth again. They kissed, drunk and languid, clutching each other. Emma jerked as she felt the metal of the freaking rings he still held in his hand bite into her side. He started to pull away but she anchored their kiss with a hand at the base of his head, while with the other she took the jewelry away from him again and tossed it. He grinned into her mouth as the rings pinged across the floor.

Emma shoved both hands into his hair and set about wrecking him. Bowling him over, as if she could suck his release right out of him. She remembered Neverland, but that had been different. Then she’d been feeling like her old self, cocky and ready to throw a man off guard, not a desperate mother searching for her son in a magical hell.

Now, she wanted to take him apart for its own purpose, for his own pleasure. For the noise he made when she ground down on his hips. For the ridiculously decadent expression on his face as he cupped her breast, thumbed her nipple.

He bent down to her again and sucked.

She bucked against him and gasped, the sound high and sharp.

And he stiffened, suddenly, releasing her to shove his hand into his pants to grip himself.

Emma gaped at him, his face flushed and twisted with concentration. He laughed grimly at her. “Look what you do to me,” he muttered. “I’m a disgrace.”

Emma took an unsteady breath at the thrill of having Killian underneath her, abusing himself to stave off his release.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, so we should take this slow.” A thought occurred to her. “Also.” Gingerly, she climbed off of him, crawling over to open the bedside table drawer.

“What are you doing?” he asked, behind her.

“Ruby told me Granny keeps them in all the rooms,” she said as she rummaged, “which I could not fucking un-hear. But I guess it’s good that I didn’t forget.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“These,” Emma said, hand closing over the little box in the drawer.

Killian propped himself up on his elbows and watched her curiously as she took too long tearing the box open. Finally she held up a condom with a lame flourish. “They’re -” she stopped. “Did you guys have contraceptives where you’re from?”

“Ah, French letters.”

“...Sure.”

Killian grinned suddenly. “Is that what I look like when I can’t place one of your modern contraptions? Because I can see why you’d find it endearing.”

“Don’t get full of yourself now -”

“Of course not, love,” he growled. “I want to fill you.”

Emma rolled her eyes even as she felt the words shoot straight between her legs. “Do you know what to do with this, or should I do it myself?”

There was a spark in Killian’s gaze and he fell back, hand and stump coming up to rest behind his head. “I bow to your expertise.”

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered. She stood and turned to take him in, sprawled out, dwarfing the bed. How the hell did he sleep here every night?

She noticed his gaze was lingering on her chest, and remembered she was naked from the waist up. She pursed her lips and his grinned widened.

“You know, you’re lovely when you’re irritated,” he said.

“I want you enough that I’m gonna ignore that,” Emma said before she placed the condom between her teeth so she could have both hands free to get his freakin pants off already.

“Just a jest -” he fell silent as she kneeled over him, making quick work of his zipper and yanking the leather down over his hips.

Captain Hook was a boxers guy.

Emma felt her face flush and she turned when she tossed his pants away, hoping he wouldn’t see. What was up with her? Why was she so shy about this?

“Love?” his hand encircled her wrist and he tugged her down to look into her face. He took the condom from her mouth and his left wrist brushed her hair over her shoulder. She recognized the motion as one he’d done before, with his hook. It made her feel soft and weird, it made her blush harder.

It made her search for his kiss and he was there immediately, soothing her with lips and teasing tongue and teeth. He drew her close and rolled them, rising over her, solid and safe. The pendants on his chain came rest on her breast bone again. She fiddled with the chain, trailed her hands down his chest as he kissed and nipped at her neck. She hooked a finger under the waistband of his boxers, no longer impatient, but curious. His kisses slowed.

“Emma?”

She slid under the fabric and took him into her hand.

He froze, his teeth bared.

She stroked him, lost in her discovery, lost in his reaction.

He drew a deep unsteady breath and searched her gaze. “Do you want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she responded, sure of that, at least, even if the rest of her feelings felt so foreign.

“Then will you open this bloody thing?” he said brandishing the condom.

Emma snorted and took it from him. She ripped it open as he divested them of the last of their clothing.

She rolled the condom on him without preamble, impatient again, and he followed her lead, only stopping to kiss her again before he slid home.

Home. All of him, and there was quite a bit of him, suddenly there, suddenly everywhere, fusing them together.

It all came at her in a rush. The satisfaction, getting exactly what she desperately needed in this moment. It was a rare feeling. It was magic, peace whatever you want to call it. Not peace. That was too...peaceful. Too calm for this wild, rolling, need, rising up just as it was being sated. And it was precious to feel this good, to feel this right. Even now, at the bookend of a crisis, there was no telling whether the morning would bring another. She had to seize the damn moments whenever they appeared. She had to seize this night and this man who was troubled like her, but who was trying like her. This man who looked at her like she was his savior, but who somehow still made her feel like she didn’t have to be perfect, like she was glorious just as she was.

She wondered if he noticed she’d started to look at him the same way.

Except for the savior bit, because Emma didn’t need anyone to save her.

Just love her.

Fuck. Not now. It was too much, too much to be thinking about that now. She gasped and started blinking rapidly because there were tears coming out of her eyes. “I’m sorry. Wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, love,” he murmured, body tense above her, watching her intently.

She laughed at the on-the-nose endearment. “I’m really sorry, I know this shouldn’t be a big deal-”

“It is.”

She looked at him. His eyes were wide and serious. “It’s a big deal,” he said.

Somehow, her mind picked out the very dumb crack in the phrase. Emma let out a weird strangled hiccup that made him blink.

“Yeah,” she said, “it’s...”

His lips twitched. “Big.”

She tittered. “Really big.”

They burst out laughing right there. Naked and sweaty with pirate king Killian Jones inside of her, and they were laughing.

“I swear, Emma,” Killian said, gasping (man, his face was red), “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know you didn’t,” Emma weezed.

They laughed harder, and his face ended up buried in her neck, her arms and legs wrapped tight around him as they shook.

It was a weird sensation, feeling the rumble of his laughter all through his body, even where they were joined. And as she laughed, she could feel herself spasm too, everywhere, and tighten.

She heard his breath hitch.

Her laughter died, abruptly. She ran her hand up to the hair on the back of his neck and griped a handful while, purposefully, ruthlessly, she squeezed.

And Killian groaned.

She flipped him on his back, his head bouncing on the mattress, arms coming up to steady her by the waist. She paused. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“It’s bloody, fucking, fantastic,” he rasped. “You’re -”

She pinned his wrists down on either side of his head and his eyes widened. “You -” he tried again.

She started to ride him, her ass slapping lewdly against his thighs. He closed his eyes and moaned, back arching off the mattress. She could see the strain in his neck as he bared his teeth, the shine of sweat on his skin and the fur on his chest. His eyes opened again, almost black with desire and he bucked underneath her, pressing against the tender place inside her that made her stutter and squeeze. She saw the triumph in his eyes, and retaliated by diving back into her harsh pace, making him gasp. They kept up the rhythm, she relentless and he mindless, driving into each other. She watched his jaw slacken, his beautiful, plush mouth falling open, mute.

For all his lovely words he might be at his filthiest when he was completely speechless.

“Oh love,” he managed, finally. “You’re -”

She dropped down to her elbows, fisting the sheet behind his head, his breath brushing her face in short hot pants, and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. He slid his hand between them to brush against her clit. She gasped, opening her eyes as she ground against him. He was sweaty and frantic, hair standing on end, eyes huge and full and drowning her. He was precious.

And fuck, she was crying again.

“You’re everything,” he finished, the words whispered harshly and quickly smothered by her own mouth. She kissed him with everything she had, with all the adrenaline and fear and excitement and deep seeded contentment and rightness of everything she felt, of everything he made her feel, and it was too much, still too much, always too much to contain -

She sobbed with her release, too overwhelmed to worry about the display, too out of her mind to even be aware of it. Somewhere at the tail end of it she felt him arch and stiffen beneath her, hand coming up to brace the back of her head as he kissed her furiously.

And when she came back into her body, they were still kissing, slowly now, lazy. Tender. He trailed away from her mouth to kiss the tears off of her cheeks and she saw that he had them too. She returned the favor.

She stroked his hair back, pressed her forehead to his, closed her eyes, and just felt. The thought thoroughly fucked out of her. And good thing too because if she started thinking now she’d probably start crying again.

After some time, he shifted them from the weird diagonal position they’d fallen into across the bed. He kissed her in response to her sound of protest when he pulled out of her. He stood to dispose of the condom, frowning at it before tossing it into the trash bin next to the desk. She felt her eyes closing but she still stared at his ass he disappeared into the bathroom.

She felt something cold on her thigh and opened her eyes to find him cleaning her with a wet washcloth from the bathroom. His movements were focused and matter of fact as he performed the intimate little service.

“I came over to take care of you.” The thought just fell out of her mouth as it formed in her head.

Killian looked up at her and smiled, naked and rumpled and...happy. “I know,” he said. “You did. You do.”

That made her smile too. God, she must look like a doof. She’d leave feeling embarrassed for tomorrow.

He got rid of the washcloth and climbed into bed with her, tugging the covers loose and over them. He pulled her close, surrounding her, and Emma promptly drifted into sleep.

…

The stupid sun was hitting her right in the face.

Emma grunted, squeezing her eyes tight, trying to block out the light. She turned her face into the warm, solid surface under her cheek, rubbed her nose into the hair she found there.

She heard a grunt. “You’ve a cold nose, love.”

She opened her eyes to find Killian blinking awake. He was wrapped around her, arm under her head, legs tangled with hers.

She stared up at him and the giddy, joyful feeling she’d started to get around him - the one that happened whenever she made him laugh, whenever he made one of those declarations that hit her like a ton of bricks - rose in her chest, strong, filling her to her fingertips, to her toes where they rubbed against his calves.

He studied her face and broke into a wide smile, one that must match the one she felt stretching her own cheeks.

“Do you think,” she said, “if we stay in bed, that the rest of the town will just leave us in peace?”

He laughed, his teeth sharp, his eyes bright. Emma felt herself thrill, and she didn’t care.

“I’m all for testing that theory.”

[sylynx-blog]

troublemaker.

                                                                                    PERSEPHONE, 2503

                                     t r o u b l e  for a friend of mine.  it’s  NOT                                      fair they make you go to 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁. let’s 𝘳𝘪𝘱                                      up  ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪꜱᴛ  tonight.  of ａｌｌ the things                                       things you are 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 to tell your ‘father’.

                                        ( tw: child abuse, violence, domestic abuse )

     mrs park is a nice lady, around her late thirties, with a penchant for wearing anything purple. she's one of those people who's always in a rush, in a state of panic that makes her who she is. it must be troubling being in charge of so many children — iseul doesn't think she is possibly alone in this, but he can't be quite sure either. the people come and go, adults and children alike, and she is one of the few people who seems to stick around.

     one thing iseul knows is that he isn't her favourite. he isn't a model student, perhaps the opposite  — too much of a troublemaker, can't concentrate properly, his grades seeming to drop rather than go up. there are many occasions he's brought to her office, expecting disappointment when he enters the room.

     she never says it out loud or voices anything negative. it's just the lingering gazes, the sighs, that same talk over and over again. every time, iseul just digs his heels into the ground, his gaze focused on the same edge of the table and lets her words turn into white noise.  there is no reason to fight, to stand his ground — not to her, not really. at first, he tried, tried telling that he doesn't like sitting in a classroom all day, going over the same old things that he already knows. she just shook her head, telling them that he needed to learn to be a good boy. that's all it's about after all — to be good.

      she already has his opinion about him, and it's not hard to guess he isn't one of the good ones. it doesn’t help that since his best friend left for a new family, iseul has been more closed off than ever. the place is too crowded to take care of single cases, a constant string of children of all ages come and go, iseul doesn't understand much. he's eight, perhaps too young to feel so dejected about it — but how can he not? he never seems to be picked, the lessons are a bore — all he has is his puzzles. books he stole from older children, ones that he keeps hidden under the mattress.

     it's around seven in the morning when he's called by mrs. park again. after breakfast, he's preparing to head for lessons, too early to be scolded for doing something bad — or so he hopes. obediently, he puts his head down and his feet take him to her office upstairs. it's one of those office rooms that has a glass wall, easy to see what's going on inside. the children aren't supposed to head up, only adults who are busy doing whatever adults do.

     his head feels heavy as he turns the knob and looks up to see the inside of the office. to his surprise, she isn't alone, and the telltale expression of disappointment isn't there. there is a couple sitting on a pair of chairs, their back facing the windows. iseul has no idea what's going on — but a fear bubbles up in his chest due to the unfamiliarity of it all. he wonders if he should just run back down, head for classes, act like he wasn't told to meet with her. he doesn't even have long to think before mrs. park looks up, and gives him a smile — one that he hasn't seen in a long, long time.

     the next thing he knows is the little stuff he has is being packed; a pair of pajamas, a few shirts and pants. he's given a phone number to call if anything goes wrong and that's it. no one to say goodbye to. he gets inside a car and buckled to his seat by an unfamiliar woman, one that attempts to give him a smile. mrs. park looks teary, but the smile doesn't leave her face.

     the excitement comes slowly, then all at once, when the reality hits him hard. this is what he was looking to after all, wasn't it? he's going to finally have a family, a place to belong, not a bunk bed and a group of friends that never stop changing. he doesn't know what to expect, but he crosses his fingers and promises himself to be a good boy. he can do this — he can be the person mr. & mrs. byun wants him to be.

     he quickly learns that he has siblings, also adopted, but from another place rather than the one iseul came from. they are younger, ages three and five. both girls who look at him with wide eyes. he fights the urge to cower and step back at the sight, not knowing what to do. sharing a house he didn't know he was going to have, suddenly sounds scarier, that ugly feeling resurfaces. but then his step-mother pats his back and tells him to be a good brother, and that's what he tries to be.

     a month in, he can't stop the voice in his head, the one that say he doesn't like these people. once the first rush of excitement passed, their military like routine was enough to scare iseul off. everything has to be done like asked. wake up at five. breakfast at six. help your father at the garage. go to school.  iseul even tries to pay more attention to his new lessons, doing his utmost best to listen and not mess up again.

     his hair is shaved off a few weeks after. iseul isn't even given a choice when he is dragged to the bathroom, mr. byun telling him he's looking too much like his sisters. he closes his mouth and nods, doing his best not to flinch when the razor hits the skin.

     what tips him off is how they yell at the youngest when she cries — over something that iseul forgets too quickly. he has been on the short end of scoldings before at the orphanage, and they had never been like this. mr. byun yells and yells, so much that his face turns red and iseul fears that his sister has bit her own tongue. mrs. byun just watches, a cigarette in her hand, leaning against the counter.

     hours later, when they are told to go to bed, he silently hushes her, and decides to call mrs. park. she'll know what to do.

     the day after, he skips lunch and heads to the payphone at the school, shaky hands pressing the buttons, ones that he has embedded into his memory.

     it doesn't go like he hoped — it never does. after his poor explanation to why he doesn't like them — he is met with that familiar sigh. even over the phone, he knows what it means. it's the same one that says; no, i know you must have began that fight. one that makes it clear that she isn't believing in him. iseul's heart drops to his stomach as he tries to explain, a mix of pauses, a mangled nonsense of words falling from his lips. she says she has work to do, and tells him to be a good boy, and then he won't have any problems.

     when she hangs up on him, iseul fights the urge to curl up into a ball and cry. he has lessons to go to — it seems like that's all that matters to adults anyways.

     a few months pass, with few incidents here and there, iseul tries to maintain peace as much as he can. he doesn't talk out loud as he used to, just nods and apologizes, always speaking politely. he ushers the girls out of the room when mr. byun's in a bad mood, trying to seem as invisible as he can.

     it never goes according to plan, and it's something that he learns very early on. it's very, very hard to change, and with how stressful it is at home, iseul's grades start to drop — which only adds to the stress. he promises the teacher to study more, and is promised in return that his parents won't hear of it — not yet.

     when that fire seems to have been put out, there comes a time where iseul feels like he simply can't stop and watch anymore. it's the sisters, the two girls that he has been told to be a big brother to. on a heated night, they seem to be taking the brunt of their father's anger. it feels more explosive this time, he doesn't have the right words to explain it - but it simmers, and even a few hours before, when he first entered the house, he felt like something was going to go wrong.

    mr. byun seems to have a bad day at work, and when he comes back, reeking of alcohol and a scowl on his face, iseul begins to hold his breath. with the smallest of the siblings always crying, everything happens way too quickly. the yells from the first few weeks have turned into hits a few too times, but this time — mr. byun seems to look for an output for his anger. his face an angry shade of red, the veins in his neck pulse as he grabs a bottle from the neck, and swings it towards the girls.

    next thing he knows is that he's in front of them, the back of his scalp alarmingly wet before the cries grow louder and everything turns black.

     mrs. park is sitting next to him when he wakes up, her eyes rimmed red, the purple mascara smudged on her cheeks. iseul feels drowsy, but attempts to sit up — too groggy to do so, a rush of breath leaves his mouth before he sits back.

    the woman seems to be at a loss for words when she holds his hand tight, only managing to murmur apologies. it seems odd to be on the receiving end of those — is what he thinks, and apparently says out loud, which brings out a wet laughter from the woman. she promises him that he won't ever go back to them again, his body a canvas enough to prove all that has gone down.

    iseul doesn't want to talk about that but unsurely asks about the girls, whether they will be alright. they are so young — and so is he, but after trying to take care of them, even for a few months, he feels the urge to know whether they are well — whether mrs. park will take them away as well.

    he isn't sure if it was the right thing to ask, with how it brings a new batch of tears from her eyes, but she nods vigorously, and begins to apologize again.

    by then, iseul is too tired to stay awake and falls into a slumber. the bed feels so soft, almost calling him as he buries himself in the sheets.

    a week later, he's back in the same confinements of the orphanage. they have given his room to someone else, but mrs. park assigns him to a bigger room, an actual bed than the bunk bed he shared. she seems to revolve around him a lot more, but he doesn't comment on it.

    the routine is almost too easy to fall back into, and the only remnants of the last few months came back to him in form of nightmares. in his waking moments, he ignores the sheer reality of it all. he goes back to school, too silent to make trouble this time — or mrs. park decides to cut him some slack, he isn't sure.

     all he knows is that the orphanage is a lot nicer than the temporary parents he has had. and that maybe he'll feel more content to live there until he becomes an adult. the thought of it scares him, that he is going to be one of those people —- but there isn't much he can do. there never is.

    when he think about where his best friend might have gone, where the girls have ended up — that fear bubbles up again, but with nothing else to do, he ignores it as well. pushes it to the back of his head, and tries his best not to stick out too much. just around ten years, and he can get out, and hopefully hide from adults forever.

    almost a year later, he's abruptly called into mrs. park's office again. the two chairs with their backs to the windows are occupied. iseul doesn't dare look up to meet mrs. park’s eyes.