#muddled au

[paper-lilypie]

okay.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

haven't scribbled any Lights Out in a hot second!! take these two scribbles - i wanted to mess around with Wally's hair & try to make a rudimentary ref for him in the au's late stages

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Muddled Waters 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, blood, violence,, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.

Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Your shift goes as usual. You make drinks to order and bring them out to the tables, or to set in the windows set into the walls of the private rooms. Those are for the more exclusive patrons, the ones who remain mostly faceless. The Sapphire is as close to a speakasy as you’d find in this century.

As you bring out a single scotch and place it on the ledge of the order window, a voice intone from the other side.

“Pardon me,” the English lilt wafts through, “your boss wouldn’t happen to be in house?”

You pull back your hand and consider the question. The customers in the rooms never talk to you. No thank yous, no pleases, no special orders. Those all come through the screen in the back which lists their demands; no olives, extra salt, double vodka...

“No, sir, I’m sorry, he’s not in,” you reply.

“Pity,” he remarks and a hand reaches to take the glass. “You will let him know I was here. In Room Four.”

“I’ll mention it. Would there be a name I should give him?”

“He will know,” he returns and footsteps scuff away from the window. Right.

You’re somewhat used to the cryptic. As nice as Nick can be, he isn’t always straightforward. The establishment does give you reason to bat an eye but for the most part, your pay stubs keep your gaze in the other direction.

You return to the kitchen and work at cleaning the used glasses brought by the singular busboy. You don’t know his name and he doesn’t talk. He always has earbuds in and only puts bins of dishes in the wash tray.

To say the operation is minimal is an understatement. Yet there is never more demand than you can meet. It makes you wonder how Nick breaks even with such a limited audience. Especially with the grade of ingredients he gets in. You never worked at a bar that didn’t water down their liquor now and again.

The night comes to an end and the lights dim as the bar closes up. The busboy clears the rooms and locks the front door. You leave the glasses in sparkling rows on the shelves and a bin of dishcloths to have washed the next day. You place away a few stray bottles then wipe down the counters.

“You’re here late,” Nick’s voice startles you and you hiss, looking up at him from the edge of your vision.

“Cleaning up,” you say and toss the cloth with the rest. “Just finishing now.”

“Mm,” he nods and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, “you wouldn’t happen to have time to make me something, would ya? I’ll keep it simple.”

You withhold a sigh. Or maybe a yawn. Your eyes tingle and you shrug, “sure, what do you want?”

“Rye and coke,” he answers as he approaches the island and crosses his arms over the top, leaning on the stainless steel.

You swiftly gather everything you need and put together the simple drink. You set it before him and return all you disturbed back to its rightful place. You face him as he raises the glass and considers the dark elixir.

“Oh, er, someone asked for you,” you untie your apron and fold it over the bin meant for tomorrow’s laundry.

“Someone did? Was she pretty?” He winks.

You shake your head, “no. It was a man. He was in Room Four. That’s what he told me to tell you.”

“Room Four,” he repeats and puts the brim to his lips, taking a slow draw. His cheeks dimple before he pulls it away. “Noted.”

You nod at his strange reaction. Almost none at all. You check the time and drag your hands over your head.

“Well, I’m going to head home,” you say, “if that’s okay?”

“Quitting time,” he says coolly, his eyes stuck on the cabinet, a squiggle in his forehead. “Go on, get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“You too,” you shoot back. “Look like you need it.”

You pass him and he stands, turning to watch you, “hey, what does that mean?”

“Nothing, just... look tired.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he scoffs.

You go through to the backroom and grab your jacket and purse. It’s not really a strange night. A few out-of-the-ordinary occurrences, but nothing worrying. The man in Room Four and Nick’s late-night appearance; it’s not really a pattern.

You glance back at the kitchen door before you leave. You head out the back and walk down the next street. You approach your car parked by the curb, the rush hour jam keeping you from finding a closer spot. You take out your keys and they jangle loudly as your footsteps echo.

As you shove your keys into the slot, you’re suddenly taken off your feet, a blunt force jarring your wrist as your fingers catch in the keyring. You hit the ground with wheeze and roll across the stray pebbles as you hug your chest. You can’t breathe.

“Look, honey,” the British voice hisses through the night, “I didn’t wanna bring you into this but I needa send a message.” A figure straddles you on their knees, holding you down by your neck. “Not much, you’ll live...” you hear a metallic shing, “bit of blood is all.”

You feel a piercing pain just below your neck, right at the small dip of your collar bone. You cry out as the metal slices down your chest and easily through your shirt. Your skin parts with the fabric as you vibrate in agony.

“Get... off,” you cough out as you regain your breath. “Please...”

“Shh, honey,” he takes the knife away and smears his hand over your chest, your warm blood spreading under his rough palm, “I just want him to see you painted up nice for him.” He drags his hand over your face, the metallic scent staining your nose and lips. “Mm, you are a pretty thing, too.”

The man wiggles his hips lasciviously before he pushes himself off of you. He stands and you cover your ragged skin with your hands and whine, sobs rising from the pain hewn into your flesh. There’s a noise, something distant, maybe a door, and the man’s silhouette strolls off, whistling into the night.

Another set of footfalls approach you as you writhe on the ground. You don’t understand what happened. Why did that man do this to you? You can’t move. You can’t think. You just can’t.

The street light flickers as someone steps around the front of your car.

“Shit,” Nick rushes over and falls to his knees beside you, “shit, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have let you come out here alone. I shoulda knew...”

“Why?” You babble as your blood seeps between your fingers, “why, Nick?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bawl. He slides his arms under you and lifts you as you exclaim. He hushes you as he holds you against his chest.

“It hurts,” you whimper.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he rasps, “I got you.”

[sunnylolli]

omg omg pls expand more on the punk dad au thing with matthew like how old is he when he comes to live with arthur?? was his mother horrible???? how does he adjust to living with his dad and brother?

!!!!!!!

So it's a bit all over the place with this au right now regardning Matthew, so some of my posts may contradict each other a bit BUT!!!

This here mixed in with what I'll be writing here!!! I think is what I've settled on storyline-wise!

So, their mother isn't... A great gal.

She's not invested in the kids at all, she doesn't want to work, she doesn't want to parent, all she wants to do is sit around and get paid for sitting around.

When the twins are born, she and Arthur are living together in a flat in Manchester and it's just horrible with how little she does. Arthur works, gets home, sees the disarray and the twins upset. It comes to a peak where they're in a screaming match about their situation and she willingly gives Arthur custody of Alfred with the comment "You take that one, I'll take the other, let's see which one turns out the best!"

Arthur and Alfred move in together with Gilbert who lives in London for a time until Arthur manages to get them an apartment, and over the course of 3-4 years, Arthur decides to take up the custody battle for Matthew.

Arthur's begun studying at that time and balances work-Uni-free time with the help from Gilbert to care for Alfred while Arthur's in court in manchester fighting tooth and nail to get Matthew home with him.

And he does!!! A few months before the twins' birthday, Matthew is 4 3/4 when he's moved home to Arthur.

Their mother is a yeller. She has a short temper, she drinks and most of the time she's been yelling and complaining about every single thing Matthew does. It would always be too loud. Nothing would ever be right. She's the parent to freak out over a spilled glass of water, and of course then Matthew learns to be quiet. To walk quiet, to eat and drink quiet. He learns to fade into the background to not be noticed. He doesn't move much and one of the first things Arthur notices about him is that he says practically nothing.

Like they arrive at the apartment just the two of them (Alfred is with Gilbert to minimize the amount of new things Matthew's exposed to at once) and upon opening the door Arthur says something like: "Well, here's home. Does it strike your fancy?"

And Matthew looks around shyly and says absolutely nothing. He kind of nods, but makes no attempt to reply. And that's how it goes for months.

He's introduced to Alfred in the evening when Arthur has shown him around and introduced him to his bed and everything. Luckily Alfred loves to chat, so there's no hard feelings when Matthew stays quiet at his barrage of questions. Alfred just moves on to talk about something else.

Alfred speaks for both of them! When they're out looking for a uniform to wear, Alfred notices Matthew fidgeting with his blazer and tells Arthur, very loudly, that he should get a bigger size for him, because he looks uncomfortable. He holds his hand when they're outside. Alfred generally just takes a huge big brother role and it's largely thanks to how much he talks that Matthew eventually picks it up and start to speak up more, too.

Although he's very quiet. Alfred's good at shutting up whenever Matthew tries to talk, so it's fine, but he does also blatantly tell him to speak louder. In that super brotherly teasing way.

The way Arthur helps him is by being the dad of all time. As I've said before, Punk dad Arthur is the chillest, healthiest possible version of Arthur there is.

He's patient (Mostly. With the kids, he's patient), he doesn't blow small mistakes out of proportion, he talks when Matthew doesn't. He keeps asking him for opinions, how his day's been, how he's feeling, even if there's a big chance he won't be getting an answer, he keeps asking because 'I wouldn't want someone to stop speaking to me just because I can't think of any way to respond.' He celebrates the moments that he gets Matthew to laugh or smile, he makes Matthew's favorite food whenever he learns what it is.

Matthew is around 5 1/2 - 6 when he begins to feel comfortable giving answers, and Arthur tries so hard not to make a big deal out of it. It happens when he's walking the boys to school and he asks them if they know what they're going to be doing that day and before Alfred can respond Matthew pipes up with:

"We'll have about insects today, I think."

And Alfred will smile enthusiastically and agree with: "Yeah! We'll be looking at insects today! You said you'd like to look at a cricket, right?" And Matthew will nod.

And Arthur will be staring with his heart in his throat and pat Matthew lovingly on the shoulder and try and play it off with: "I hope you'll be learning a lot about those crickets today, then. I know they're insects, but that's about it."

And I'm still plotting out the rest of the details, but the mother will become a problem again when the twins are around age 10, I think 🤔

[flaskuwu]

Great Fairy Ganondorf

[demaparbat-hp]

For the Spirits—

Chapter VIII: Make You Stay

And I'd do anything to make you stay

No light, no light

Tell me what you want me to say

—No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine

.

Ming had experienced so many different, wonderful things. She had lived, truly lived, and allowed herself to dream of things that had been impossible back in the Academy. Endless possibilities now seemed to lay gently in the palm of her hand. But she would give it all away to vanish the shiver that tore its way down her spine at Yoi’s words. The Prince has genuinely gone mad. He—didn't you hear?—he insists on going on this mysterious quest on his own.

[signed-sapphire]

Hey *leaves a rare colored doodle of Cielo and scurries away*

Idk what they’re reaching for

His hair flip thing is too long but it’s the ides of march and that’s my excuse

[fwoosheye]

Bunny from @linked-maze in a Mermaid/Zora form!

I've enjoyed drawing different kinds of berbuns since I first got inspiration for it, and I've wanted to draw one for LM Bunny for quite a while but I couldn't figure out how to make it distinctly Linked Maze you know. Then, on their discord server, there popped up a pretty entertaining discussion about what would happen if Bunny were to use Time's Zora Mask. And as the LM Zoras have a very unique delightful otter-based design I decided to incorporate that a bit more than merely making another bunny-seal hybrid. It was a fun project!

[moonliched]

Life is cushy, working on a subterranean research facility on an underexplored ocean planet. As the resident handyman, most of your work takes place underwater - lucky for you, cave diving is your passion. With the building between bi-annual research teams, and the next lot yet to arrive, you find yourself with an excess of free time. All you have to do is fulfil your weekly duties, prepare the facility for the next team of researchers, and relax. Oh, and track down the net that went missing some time ago.

And then you find it. In a submerged cave. Trapping a mermaid.

You really wish this wasn't your responsibility.

(Moon thinks he should have listened to Sun and stuck to hunting in warmer waters. Why does this bizarre two-tailed mermaid keep coming at him with sharp instruments?)

My futuristic mermay fic has finally begun, as May ends. I have a lot pre-written, but I'm a over-editor, so it's just the first two chapters up right now🐠 I’m super excited about this you have no idea

[hyn-hyperlaser]

thinking about oranges... man I love orange juice.....

[the-one-with-spider-brainrot]

In your newest drawings of the swap au, leshy said the bishops were idiots for blinding a blind person, so im assuming that leshy was already blind before they took his eyes?

Yeup! When it comes to writing the Bishops in aus where they’re mortal in any way I just by nature default to them being born with their disabilities.

Though the level of the disability varies - for example Leshy is partially blind in the swap au before his eyes are taken, Kallamar is deaf in one ear instead of both, etc.

However in the modern au Leshy is fully blind (not darkness. Extremely blurred vision that makes it really difficult to differentiate two different things, etc) . Kallamar is fully deaf and needs hearing aids in both ears, ect.

[kijosakka]

dramaturgy; celebrity manhunt, pre-london -- im going to make it easy on myself and skim through pre-london first, as the most divergence in this AU happens during and after the fact. part of pre-london is the pre-season itself, the celebrity manhunt special.

so action comes and goes, noah gets out of the season and remains as chris’ PA for the year break. in that time, months before it actually happens, chris finds out about the new season (with producer word both pushing for ‘more drama/engagement’ or smth along those lines, and *noahs actual involvement this time).

while something something contracts might prevent him from just outright telling noah, i’d imagine that he’d all but say there’s going to be a new season and heavily imply that noah wont be able to get out of it this time. not only that but he also implies that maybe noah should give opening up to people on the show a chance,, cause, yk, hes about to be stuck on a jet with them,, for weeks,,

of course, noah is pissed at first. but in so many weeks or whatever he begrudgingly accepts it and just resolves to throw it like usual. as for the ‘opening up to people’, he lands on owen.

owen was nice enough, genuine to a fault and the person least likely to use any of noahs bare slivers of vulnerability against him. hes safe.

[*noahs involvement within the show as something that the viewers are very interested in. he could be ratings gold and they know it.]

now im a little bit torn over the whole ‘chris’ assistant’ bit; similar to the awakeathon i would imagine it might just be missing entirely and he would be fired before the fact. or it could happen, as a way to give his on-screen character some information. as a ‘look everyone, i have Depth. stop prying into my life please’

either way, whatever. *total drama dirtbags show up, chris locks them out of the venue, they dont win any awards, bus chase etc.

^ note here, per usual noah comes off as his usual uncanny self around the cast. sierra is there as well, im sure thats Something for her. however he does take notice of one (1) alejandro burromuerto, recognizing him and focusing on him. < this comes back during introductions, where he notes his behavior towards the cast.

[*total drama dirtbags existed as the original ‘new TD season’ that noah found out about and worked on for a little bit before he finds out that it was not in fact a real show and a coverup for something else (a grab for an extra contestant for WT) < hence, he knows josé from interviews/auditions he helped with, but doesn’t know alejandro since he decided one brother was Enough]

^ and just for extra clarity on the TDD thing bc ive kind of muddled it, say noah finds out about dirtbags, helps out whatever. and then the news breaks that its a fake phish for a new contestant for an actual show — fine enough, he’s already behind the cameras, so he can just stay there, right?

no, actually. its kinda just slung at him that he has to be part of the cast (smth smth his job is threatened under ‘contractual obligation’ like its not wildly unconscionable). and he is soooo pissed off, so incredibly angry at the circumstances he’s landed himself in somehow.

< but he is aware that he cant just bottle everything up because it will spill over; chris said he needs something to his character, so maybe he can funnel his anger into playing the game a little more. as the most outlet he’ll get before he can throw it and just be done with the show entirely.

^ and then,,, alejandro.

while the actual events of pre-london remain largely unchanged, his dynamics are changed with the presence of four different variables: alejandro, izzy, owen, and sierra.

alejandro i’ll get into more later with a longer post detailing what they think of each other mutually, but im gna touch on alejandro a little; with picking off team victory and believing heather is the only person who’s noticed his facade, he just,, doesnt really distinguish noah as a threat worthy of focusing on.

^ throughout the game and the events of, he does single noah out as the most tolerable of all his teammates but doesnt offer much intrigue beyond that until *new york. (to note, he’s a lot more comfortable with [oblivious to??] noahs detachedness than the rest of the cast since that empty demeanor is p common among whatever diplomatic events hes been a part of)

izzy is someone who’s character i established mostly in the long post i had about her?? but it is worth mentioning now though that she does stick very close by to noah throughout her time on the show, and routinely interacts with him where most of the cast had given up trying altogether.

^ it builds,, a kind of rapport between her and noah?? in some way after the fact he’d recognize it as a nice, ‘i-want-to-know-more-about-you-and-also-befriend-you’ thing, but during he reacts more like a yowling cat tbh. he’s built up this reputation and facade that make people stay away from him, and now izzy wants to stick around him and threaten his defense mechanism? no thanks. (< further reasoning for why he belays insults towards her during WT under the guise of his own facade)

owen is a special case — in the bus chase before the season, noah took the time to sit by him and build up the proper beginnings of a friendship, which owen is thrilled about < during his time on island, owen was really fond of noahs quips and ‘just wished he would open up a bit more!!’,, he thinks some friends would b good for him and hes right

^ and again, owen is noahs safest option to 'endear' himself to the audience with a friend. hes so genuine and understanding of where noahs projected character falls flat, and like izzy keeps interacting and wants to interact with him where the rest of the cast gave up (and noah the person becomes very fond of owen and the reprieve their friendship offers him very quickly)

and finally,,, sierra. i actually want to talk more about the Audience as an entity in this AU in a later post and sierra ties into that heavily. as established, noah is the one cast member she just doesn't know anything about. of each blog she runs dedicated to each member of the show, his is the emptiest; the most baseless. being in proximity with the man of mystery is exciting!

^ noah still comes off as very uncanny valley to sierra and his detachedness is immediately clear. but the key difference to her and and cast is that she has the Audience perspective --- he's intriguing moreso than offputting. (and also theres definitely Something there about the meta-analysis of panopticon as an in-universe topic and how sierra would relate/connect that once it becomes clear to the cast why noah acts as he does)

[*new york (same time space as the aftermath?) as the moment when sierra prattles off information about the cast but comes up with nothing on noah that his own interest is piqued just a liitle bit, and he starts building a proper relationship up with noah as the straightmen to the cast. < also come after london is something he looks back on as a Hmm. moment wondering what noah knows about himself.

^ alejandro does believe their rapport is one-sided bc of his own facade, which i want to mention simply bc he's wrong. it is no-sided. both of them r faking.]

now getting to the episodes themselves -- minor changes/additions:

in the yukon, he doesn't try to cuddle bridgette

^ also in the yukon, he shivers less visibly than the cast (think when in cold weather you get those microtremors that really fucking hurt after a few seconds). this is only because it feeds into the android joke-turned-conspiracy for the folks watching on the aftermath set

in new york, he was not actually asleep in the carriage nor did he explicitly pretend to be. he just Kept Quiet when heather did her thing

in germany, he doesn't go up to alejandro when he falls off the platform, but he does prompt owen to ask something along a similar line [to his canon ones]

in the amazon, he's the one to point out owens absence

in paris, the line of 'this totally works on my dog' he changes to smth like 'totally works on dogs',, for his own exercise of privacy really

in the space of the jamaica aftermath, he again disappears from the rest of the cast à la playa des losers save for owen. owen gets a hello during mealtimes and hes the only one.

and finally, the episodes of 'significant' development with noahs intrigue in alejandro:

beginning before any real events of the show during introductions

^ kicked off in germany similarly to canon, emphasized by newfoundland and the grab for DJ's alliance

and cemented completely [his interest in unmasking him] in jamaica, continuing onward with london around when he discovers that alejandro is acting skittery towards him because of his own suspicions

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Friday 🥃

Tagged by @ladydorian05 @daffi-990 @wikiangela thank you loves (don't forget to check their fabulous snippets!) 💖

no pressure tagging @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck @stereopticons @disasterbuckdiaz @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @honestlydarkprincess @eddiediaztho @thewolvesof1998 @forthewolves @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @spaceprincessem @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz @watchyourbuck @your-catfish-friend @statueinthestone @buddierights @911onabc @jesuisici33 @pirrusstuff @cowboy-buddie @the-likesofus @fionaswhvre @steadfastsaturnsrings @barbiediaz @eowon and anyone else who wants to (if i forgot to tag you no i didn't)

I was at a bit of a loss as to what to share today. Ultimately it's more of you're where I wanna go. This is from a later chapter but takes place earlier than any of the previous snippets. IDK the scene came to me and here we are 😘

“‘nother, please.” Buck hails the barkeep, not paying attention to whether or not his request was heard.  He swirls the last of the amber liquid in his glass, studying it like it contains the answers to everything in the universe. Maybe it does. Has anyone really proved that it doesn’t? People read tea leaves and tell fortunes and base their entire lives on where the cosmos were the night they were born. Why can’t he take meaning from a thin pool of translucent whisky? It’s not like he’s got much else going for him.  He turns the tumbler over, holding it over his open mouth and sticking his tongue out to catch any droplets that might fall when it's taken from his hand.  “Hey! Tha’smine.” Someone took his drink! Buck looks down at the shiny lacquered bartop only to see a full whisky, dark and glimmering. How did that get there? Did he ask for it? Maybe the filthy crook that swiped his first one took pity and gave him a new one. 

He rests his cheek on his hand, eye level with the cheaply cut crystal. His mother would hate this glass. Would say it’s not even worth having. The same as he’s not worth having. Her and Philip never really wanted Buck. Eddie doesn’t want him. Christ, why did he even come back? Oh, right. Maddie. The one person who’s ever loved him consistently and with purpose. Except she’s gone now, too.  Buck lifts his head and drains the glass, scrunching his eyes closed and grunting as it burns his tongue and throat. Doesn’t matter. He should suffer and feel pain and disappointment. At least that’s something he knows he’s good at.  “We’re closin’. Time to go.” William – or maybe it’s Billy or Mac? – raps his knuckles on the counter and takes Buck’s empty drink.  “Don’t wanna. Not ready,” Buck mumbles, laying his forehead against the cool wood.  “Sorry, kid. I can give ya a few minutes to pull yourself together. But ya gotta leave.” William doesn’t sound very sorry. More annoyed that he has to shuffle a handful of drunks out of his tavern.  Buck groans with the effort of sitting upright. He rubs at his eyes, hoping that will make the spinning stop. Unfortunately it doesn’t. He lays a few bills on the counter before dropping his feet to the floor, using his stool for support. Thankfully, he only sways a little once he lets go.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Muddled Waters 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.

Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You skewer candied cherries on a long toothpick and balance them over a martini glass. The deep blue drink with a layer of foam is perfectly aligned with the crystal brim. You stand straight as you top off the last of the drinks, a new batch for the waiting customers.

You put the small silver measuring cup aside and nearly cry out as the silhouette hovering in the corner of your vision moves. You touch your chest in surprise as you face Nick with a bashful smile. You didn’t even know he was around that day. Lately, he’s been absent more than not.

“Oh, hi,” you laugh at yourself, “I didn’t hear you...”

“I have a bad habit of that,” he grins, “some have compared me to a cat.”

You tilt your head, “some? You mean, me?”

He shrugs, “was that you?

“Maybe,” you turn and carefully move the stemmed glasses to a tray.

“New flavour?” He nears and stands close. You can smell his cedar cologne.

“Blueberry,” you explain, “bit sweet for my tastes but it fits the season.”

“Ah, sounds interesting,” he reaches and takes one of the glasses and you gasp.

“Nick!” You turn to him and he grins as he sips, the foam clinging to his top lip. He hums as he removes the toothpick from across the rim and nibbles off one of the cherries.

“Tasty,” he commends.

“Why-- Now I’ll to make another.”

“They can wait. It’s more than worth it,” he assures, still standing close as he slurps.

You work in the warmth of his looming proximity. He’s never had much of a personal bubble. Working behind a bar, you’ve grown used to being crowded. You measure and pour and muddle. You garnish and set the drink to replace the one your boss took.

“Right, ready,” you declare.

“Here, let me get those,” he slides the tray across the counter before you can react.

“No, you don’t have to--”

“I want to. Boss man’s gotta do some work around here,” he scoffs and lifts the tray. “You take a load off, sweetheart, I need those hands well-rested. No one else has that magic touch.”

You tisk and shake your head. He can be ridiculous. You won’t complain, he’s the least uptight boss you’ve had. The place isn’t too bad. Upscale with well-tipping patronage. It’s not your typical bar. Most of your work is done behind a wall as the customers drink in private rooms or in the common room where refined jazz wafts through the dim air. The whole place drips of exclusivity.

You clean up and wipe the counter before you wash your hands. Another order appears on the screen. Customers order on a sleek touchscreen, unbothered by servers amid their hushed conversations. You assume they are the types with private jets and luxurious yachts. Of course, they’re too special to drink like normal people.

You start up the next order. Spiced apple cider. A classic though it’s not often ordered. Two to put up. You mix the drinks in mason jars with thick handles. You finish them each with a cinnamon stick.

“Ready to go?” Nick has you squeaking again.

“God,” you throw your hands up and laugh, “how do you keep doing that?”

“Hey, not my fault. You’re in the zone. You know, you get all squinty,” he makes a face, “it’s like the whole world doesn’t exist. Makes me feel a bit small.”

“Mm, well, I guess you’re right. I should pay more attention to my surroundings,” you lift the mugs, “I got these, Nick.”

“It’s no problem, one of my buddies,” he wraps his hands around the jars, “been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, okay then,” you let him take the cups.

“Take it easy. You do too much.”

You smile tightly and lean on the counter. He goes and you turn around to tidy again. You can be precise. You like a clean station. You’ve worked with too many people who leave the bartop littered in lime peel and broken toothpicks. You can’t make a good drink if you’re working in filth.

But it isn’t just your work. You try not to let the personal seep in but you can’t help who you are. Things should be just so. Books should be lined up and sorted alphabetically and the dishes should be stacked neatly, and the carpet can’t be crooked.

You exhale and run your hands over your apron. Most people might envy your boss for his high company and exorbitant wealth, you just covet his coolness. He’s never bothered by much.

“Sweetheart,” he enters, this time with fair warning. You look up at his pet name. He always calls you that. “What’s that chocolate one you did last time?” He snaps his fingers, “you know, it was kinda creamy--”

“Brandy Alexander,” you answer, “yeah, uh, we’re out of dark creme de cacao. I put it on the inventory.”

“Inventory,” he nods and his blue eyes flick away guiltily, “yeah, I was supposed to do that.”

You cross your arms, “yeah, you were.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I swear, I thought of it,” he crinkles his nose, “but it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Mhmm,” you sniff, “well, you have been busy. I didn’t even know you were in town.”

He looks up and his cheek dimples. His gaze falls back on you, “lots of running around. Sorry, sweetheart, if it was up to me, I’d be right here, tasting all your delights.”

You nearly snort but instead just furrow your brow.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you shrug and turn away, the screen showing another order. “Sometimes... the way you say things...”

He chuckles and leans his elbow on the counter, “I do like to choke on my own foot.”

“You know, I said before, I could make time for inventory. I don’t mind making orders--”

“Don’t bother,” he cuts your offer short, “I know people. I can take care of it. I’ll make a few calls tonight.” He stays as he is, angled against the counter as he watches you. He rests his chin on his knuckles and you glance over as you squeeze a lime dry.

“What?” You ask as you measure out the juice.

“How’d you learn to do all this?” He asks.

“I took a few courses, worked a few dives,” you say, “did a gig on a cruise ship. You know, you figure it out.”

“And you enjoy it?” He says, “I mean, I can tell you do.”

“It keeps my hands moving and my head from racing,” you explain as you mix the drink in a shaker.

“Sounds amazing,” he stands straight, “sooner or later, I need to find something to keep me busy. Something that doesn’t make me crazy.”

You garnish and he swipes up the glass before you can stop him.

“Well, you might just have a calling as a waiter,” you say sarcastically as you wipe your hands on a towel.

“I don’t know about that,” he grins, “I’m not much for taking orders.”

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[tennessoui]

I always figured throat Obi-Wan and Anakin would end up, like, dismantling slave rings. Obi-Wan gets to work for justice and help people, Anakin gets to dismember any slaver who does not instantly surrender and/or says something mean to Obi-Wan. Everyone wins!

I almost feel like that that’s too morally good and too much karmic good for throat fic obikin to be putting out into the galaxy though you’re right it’s a pretty good compromise - obi-wan is definitely a calming influence on his master in a way that most padawan obi-wans are for their master anakins, but this obi-wan also has his own sort of dark side/bloody side (one of the things anakin loves about him) and I think that any sequel for throat fic that gets published explores obi-wan’s capacity for darkness

….especially because it’s told from vaderkin’s pov so there’s more time to show the master’s manipulations on the former padawan when the first fic showed the successful manipulations from padawan to master