#nobody should fund this guys musical.

[daiwild]

if possible can you please draw hidgens i love him also nick best hidgens actor real/nf

A Nick for you, and a Jeff for me

[fairuzfan]

I don’t ask this expecting you have THE answer or that there is one, but I follow a non Palestinian white man on insta (in addition to many Palestinian folks in diaspora and in Palestine) who mostly shares things from Palestinian ppl/sources.

He has several times criticized / shared criticism of charity dinners, music festivals etc raising funds for Gaza with the perspective of, it’s not appropriate to have a dance party or dinner while people are undergoing genocide, but also that in this moment, art isn’t resistance because there needs to be physical resistance, blockades of weapons, etc.

I’ve seen this echoed from some others especially critiquing white folks trying to claim “joy is resistance” right now, which makes sense to me, but i also wonder if it’s reductive to say art or music is not resistance because I feel like it can have a lot of power especially alongside social movements… was wondering if you had thoughts on this or perhaps knew where I could look to learn more.

Please ignore if this is too much, and thank you

I think things like writing and illustration and music feeds into the spirit of revolution and is necessary in that way. You have to energize the masses somehow, and to ensure that your message spreads as far as possible. A good way is to make art, or to sing a song, or write a story.

That's why Wisam Rafeedi wrote his book and different resistance factions make posters and videos — to spread their ideas and garner support among the masses.

It's not as important as putting yourself in immediate physical danger to incapacitate the colonial entity — but I think for Palestinians and other colonized peoples, they do need to make art to really process their thoughts. Of course there's a difference when a Palestinian in Palestine, a Palestinian in the diaspora, a nonPalestinian ally of color, and a NonPalestinian white ally do this. I won't deny that there's a nuance when it comes to this.

But writers who write about Palestinian Liberation historically have been assassinated because of how they participate in liberation actions and also spread ideas of liberation themselves. I don't know which white guy you're talking about but I feel like this is mostly a conversation that should be led by Palestinians if we're talking about Palestine because they understand the nuance of saying statements like "the only resistance is physical." I understand what he's saying to an extent but that does erase a lot of Palestinian resistance the past few decades by making sweeping statements like "art is not resistance" and kind of simplifies the issue at hand.

Charity dinners and galas and that stuff... I don't know what I think about them, I think that people are going to do it either way so my opinion doesn't really matter. Hey, if you're going to raise thousands of dollars for Palestine, I'm not going to stop you at all. I personally think you should try to avoid posting pictures and stuff like that from the gala itself if you're going to host one just out of courtesy.

I guess overall what I'm trying to say, art resistance becomes physical a lot of the time. I think its really reductive to say "art isn't resistance" and also personally insulting considering I have family members and friends who were journalists, creative writers, and artists and killed/targeted for their work.

Here's this article by Fargo Tbahkhi about the role of writing during a genocide that might be a good read. They also mention how Israeli propaganda (calling Palestinians "human animals"/"Amalek" as an example) is specifically a use of culture and writing to energize people to commit genocide. An especially poignant part that I completely agree with, and am trying to get at:

Palestine requires that we abandon this catharsis. Nobody should get out of our work feeling purged, clean. Nobody should live happily during the war. Our readers can feel that way when liberation is the precondition for our work, and not the dream. When it is the place we stand, and not the place we shake ourselves towards. In this way, what the long middle of revolution requires, what Palestine requires, is an approach to writing whose primary purpose is to gather others up with us, to generate within them an energy which their bodies cannot translate into anything but revolutionary movement. This is what Boal modeled for us in his theatrical experiments, which were dedicated to empowering audiences to act, to participate in a creative struggle to envision and embody alternatives. For Boal, theater was not revolution, but it was a rehearsal for the revolution, meant to gather communities together in that rehearsal. Creative work readies us for material work, by offering a space to try out strategies, think through contradictions, remind us of our own agency.  

[starcanwrecked-confessions]

I get that there are reasons people may have funded Cinderella's Castle and not Tinlightenment/why Cinderella's Castle got funded quicker than Tinlightenment, but I do not think you guys saying that understand JUST HOW BIG of a difference this was.

Cinderella's Castle fund goal was $250K, Tinlightenment fund goal was $200K and they raised $220K in total.

Tinlightenment raised their goal amount just before the final day of the kickstarter campaign, their campaign lasted a month. Cinderella's Castle got funded in a little less than 30 hours.

CINDERELLA'S CASTLE RASIED MORE MONEY IN 30 HOURS THAN TINLIGHTENMENT DID AN ENTIRE FUCKING MONTH. I can not understate how insane that is!

I have noticed in the past couple years people seem to only care about Hatchetfield, and it's okay to love Hatchetfield, I absolutely love Hatchetfield, it is my favorite of all StarCanWrecked productions, I became a fan because of Hatchetfield. But I remember during the first year of covid that there was so much love for EVERYTHING starkid, tcb and shipwrecked. But then after that first year it seems people only care for Hatchetfield.

Now I'm really so excited that so many people are excited for Cinderella's Castle, that's great!! I'm glad we are giving love to more stuff. But why are we only giving all our love to Cinderella's Castle? Why couldn't we give more love to the other productions going on? Hardly anyone talks about vhs christmas carols. Nobody talks about how the grunch cribbed Christmas. "but those are holiday things" ok sure but still hardly anyone was talking about grunch when it was actually coming out. Hardly anyone has been talk the case of the Greater Gatsby as that's been coming out and fear bc of its break even less people will talk about when it returns. In the tin can bros fandom it feels like I never see love anything except spies are forever really. The entire pulp musicals fandom seems to be just like 5 people.

I am begging fans who have seen more than just Hatchetfield to give love to more than just Hatchetfield. Please. You have seen how amazing all of this stuff we get to watch is. Go give it some love. Make some posts about it. I have some old fans/fans who have seen more than just Hatchetfield complain about fans who have just seen Hatchetfield and if you really think that then WHERE is your love for other stuff? You don't even have to make art or fanfic, you can just reblog stuff!

I am begging fans that have only seen Hatchetfield to at least TRY to watch something outside of it, you might like a lot of stuff, you just have to start with trying to find something that sounds appealing to you. You like spooky towns? Go check out wayward guide, solve it squad and headless. You just like musicals? Well starkid and tcb have many. Maybe you like short films. Maybe you like a certain franchise starkid has parodied. It is ok if you end up just liking Hatchetfield but I do think you should give other things its a try.

I know I'm probably coming off as rude and I'm sorry. And you don't have to go a show love for or watch anything outside of Hatchetfield if you don't want to. I just wish that people would. And I am frustrated that no one seems to care about 90% of the amazing stuff that has been made.

~~~

[gingerbreadmonsters]

easy pickings

or: it just goes to show, you never can tell!

gn!reader, big big murder and body horror warnings, pure fluffy fantasy but make it gory. get the shotgun - we’re having a wedding! much love to the gang on discord for putting up with my endless rants about how cute these two are - i can’t promise this will make it stop, but it should keep me going for a little while. inspired by ain’t nobody here but us chickens from the musical five guys named moe, and you never can tell by chuck berry. tomorrow, when you say ‘i do’, i’ll die. vega tying the knot in 12,900 words or less.

content warnings: weddings i guess, death and dead bodies, mild injury description (the injury does NOT happen to the reader character), vega does some murders (and warden is definitely into it 👀), HEAVY body horror re: demons changing form, this is CERTAINLY sacrilegious if you like churches, no seriously i mean it, if you are especially christian i suggest that you might want to skip this one because you may very well be offended. this is a story about very bad people doing very bad things. this is a fictional story about people who aren’t real. i don’t condone or encourage this behaviour in real life.

warden’s body is not described at all, and gender-neutral pronouns are used throughout to describe them. for the sake of plot, they do wear a dress and high-heeled shoes, and are referred to with feminine terms (including ‘bride’ and ‘princess’) and a feminine name at some points, but it is made very clear that this is for a plot-relevant disguise - NOT because warden themselves necessarily identifies that way. if those things make you uncomfortable, then please do not feel obligated to read - i won’t be upset! 

this fic contains graphic content that may not be suitable or appropriate for readers under the age of 18. reader discretion is heavily advised. dead dove: do not eat. as always, i encourage you to stop reading at any point if you feel as though you may become uncomfortable or upset. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. thank you.

also, before i forget, the song the organist is playing is mendelssohn’s wedding march, from a midsummer night's dream. that’s not important, it’s just for anyone who was curious. 

series masterlist

main masterlist

Small towns are very exciting, you know.

Well, maybe not for everyone. There’s not too much that happens here. But for you, they’re very interesting indeed.

For the last few months, you’ve been lying low in one of the empty houses on this street. The town is much, much smaller than Dahlia, so it’s been a lot more difficult to stay unnoticed, but you’ve been really trying your best. The people seem nice, but you know better than to let them have a proper conversation with you - you’ve never quite mastered the art of human small talk, and there are a few things about you and Vega that you’re fairly sure they’d rather not know.

(To be honest, you’re not sure if this house had actually been empty when Vega got here, but you’d been out exploring the rest of the town at the time, so you don’t know for sure.)

(You haven’t seen any suspicious bloodstains yet, and you don’t mention it when he comes out of the basement and locks the door behind him, looking suspiciously well-fed. You’re giving him the benefit of the doubt.)

It’s much nicer than the safehouse, which is exciting. Human houses have lots of stuff that you’ve never really seen before, so you’ve been quite enjoying working out what all the different things are. Vega helps you sometimes, when he recognises one of the things you don’t know, but mostly there’s a lot of looking things up on the computer.

You’d been living in Department-funded accommodation before, and although it had been very convenient, you hadn’t really known what sort of things humans normally put in their houses. This one has all kinds of things - like a funny little rug made of bristles that goes outside next to the front door and says WELCOME on it, or a black boxy thing in the living room that lights up when you press the special remote and lets you play computer games on the television screen.

Mm, it’s nice, living in a human house. It’s so big, too! There’s an upstairs and a downstairs that are all part of the same house, and there are so many comfy things to sit on. So far, you’ve tried sitting on all of the beds, the sofa, both of the armchairs in the living room, the beanbag in one of the bedrooms, and most of the chairs at the kitchen table. In your opinion, the sofa is the best one, but you brought the beanbag downstairs to go next to the sofa in case you want some variety.

There used to be pictures in the picture frames, but Vega got rid of them not long after you moved in. He said there was no point in keeping them, because the humans who used to live here are being kept down in the - the, uh-

- um, anyway, they’re gone now, and why would you want pictures in your house of people you don’t even know? Instead, you’ve been taking your own with the camera you found on one of the shelves, and it’s all very exciting.

Taking pictures is easier as you thought it would be, actually. You have to stay very still so that it doesn’t go all blurry, and things always seem to turn out a slightly different colour than they are in real life, but it’s nice that there don’t seem to be any rules about it whatsoever. You can take pictures of whatever you want!

There’s one of the house, and of Vega, and of the view down the street from the upstairs window. You’ve even got a close-up of one of those funny flowers, the kind that keep growing in the front garden and look like little round clouds - you had to hold your breath when you took that one, so that you didn’t accidentally blow all the little white bits away.

You’ve started bringing the little camera everywhere, just in case there’s something interesting to look at. Once, you took it to the supermarket - there’s always quite a few people in there, so you can generally find something tasty to eat - and you spent almost an hour taking pictures of all the different displays. They’re always so brightly coloured, and the fruits and vegetables always look so shiny. It’s very nice.

Life is so different in this little town. There’s so few people, which makes it so quiet. Part of that might be because you’re not working anymore - you help Vega when he asks you, but other than that it sometimes feels like you and Vega are the only people for a hundred million miles. It’s like it’s faster and slower all at the same time. You’re not quite sure how to explain it.

Naturally, you’ve been passing the time by watching daytime television.

It’s so funny! Humans seem to love these shows, and they play them at all hours of the day, every day of the week. They have big glitzy game shows, full of lights and screens, where they ask the contestants about all these bizarre topics - you don’t generally know what they’re talking about, but they’re weirdly fun to watch. And talk shows - they love these programmes where some people just sit around and… talk to each other. That’s all! They just chat and chat about nothing, but it’s so entertaining that you can’t help but keep listening.

The television really is amazing. You can watch sitcoms, which are videos of people in different places reciting jokes while an invisible audience laughs at them, or reality TV, which definitely doesn’t live up to its name. Sometimes you watch sports matches, but it tends to be quite tricky - for some reason, they never explain the rules. You have to search up the rules on the computer, then cross-reference those with whatever’s happening on the screen, and it’s all a bit of a mess. If you’re honest, you’re starting to think that they’re just making it up when they say someone’s ‘offside’.

The most useful ones are probably the soap operas. You have no idea where the name comes from - there’s rarely any soap, and you’ve yet to see any opera singing - but they seem to be a sort of documentary, all about humans. There’s much more drama than you’d imagined, and all sorts of things that humans do that you had no idea about.

Watching these soap operas for the first time, you’d been a bit worried that it was all a bit too unfamiliar. What if one of the neighbours asks you a question about going to a cafe, or baseball players, or laundry techniques? As a precaution, you’ve taken to watching one or two episodes of your favourites every evening, to help you blend in.

That’s how you’d ended up watching that.

What’s the matter, dearest? He’d been upstairs, but you’d felt his magic brushing against your aura all the same.

Hmm? No, it’s nothing.

It’s something, darling, he’d replied, raising an eyebrow. I can feel your longing from here. Did they die in your computer game again?

No, it’s - this one’s just the normal television show thing, you’d explained. He’s normally quite good with these things, but he can never seem to tell the difference between when you’re using the television to play a game or watch a programme. They didn’t die, they just…

He’d come down the stairs and into the room at that, staring curiously at you with your eyes glued to the screen, before realising what you were looking at. Oh.

They look so happy, you’d sighed, watching the human couple on the screen. Don’t you think?

He’d shrugged, slightly too nonchalantly for you to entirely believe him. I suppose, yes.

Humans have such funny ideas about being in love. Tucking your legs to the side to make room for him, you’d let him come around to sit next to you on the sofa. Do they all have to have a big party like this before they can start kissing?

No, darling, he’d explained. This is a human wedding. It’s very special for them.

But… You’d been confused, looking up at him briefly before turning back to the television. I thought they said it was a 'marriage'?

That’s what they call the thing that happens at a wedding, little one. Do you see those two there?

He’d pointed at the couple talking in the middle, and you’d nodded. Yeah. Those are the ones the marriage is for, right?

Correct. Weddings happen so that humans can ‘get married’ to each other, and then they become what humans call a ‘married couple’. ‘Marriage’ is the process that those two humans are going through, and ‘wedding’ is the name for the celebration.

Oh, okay. Once he’d explained it, it made a lot more sense - you’d been under the impression that ‘marriages’ and ‘weddings’ were two separate things altogether. But humans can be together all the time, can’t they? So what are human weddings even for?

I… You’d felt his uncertainty as he tried to come up with an explanation, and it had dawned on you slightly too late that Vega may not be the best person to ask when it comes to matters of the heart. Unless, of course, the matter is that you want it to stop beating.

I’m told it’s a… declaration. Of love.

Like kissing?

Yes, darling, like kissing, he’d laughed. They do that at weddings quite a lot, I believe. It means that they want to be together until they die.

Is that what all kisses mean, for humans? You remember being shocked, when he’d said that. Humans kiss all the time, on the television. Who would have thought that such short-lived creatures as humans would be so nonchalant about dying? Wow. Human courtships are so… intense.

Well, I think that’s what they mean… Vega had trailed off, uncertainty blooming in his aura again as the humans on the television started talking again. Fortunately, I can’t say I have much experience when it comes to kissing humans.

Weren’t they married, though? you’d asked, only to be met with a confused stare. Ivan and the… the other one?

What? He’d been so surprised, even though you’d thought it was a perfectly fair question. No, of course not. That was the whole point.

So you don’t have to be married to kiss someone?

He’d looked down at you, thoroughly puzzled by your entirely rational questions. I kiss you, don’t I? And we’re not married.

Well - yeah, but we’re not humans, you’d shrugged. I thought the rules might be different for them.

Irritatingly, he’d had the gall to laugh when you said that, tail curving around your back to rest around your middle. Do I look like the sort of demon who’s intimately familiar with the rules of human courting behaviour?

You know all kinds of weird stuff, you’d replied, poking him gently in the ribs before giving in and shifting to fully rest your weight against his side. How would I know which things you know and which things you don’t?

I have much better things to remember than the web of intrigue that undoubtedly surrounds the intricacies of human courtship, believe me.

Such as?

Now, that would be telling, he’d said, lips pressing gently against the smooth curve of your horn once - twice - three times, before pulling you more insistently into his lap, leaning back against his chest. Although, I’m sure I can think of something I do know, if you’d prefer.

Something you know… You’d only been half-focused on the screen from that point, watching dreamily as the little pixelated humans exchanged little pixelated rings, smiling as Vega’s fangs dragged sweetly over your neck. Would you say you’re especially familiar with it?

Oh, intimately.

A tiny spark of pain, melting into pleasure as he bit down a little harder, and you hadn’t really paid much attention to the television after that.

(It hadn’t stopped you thinking about it, though.)

In Aria, getting married isn’t really, like, a thing. It’s a very human concept, if you’re honest - humans like to have all these little ceremonies and gatherings for each other. You’ve seen some of them on the television, and you used to hear your old coworkers talking about them sometimes, but you’ve never been invited to anything like that.

There’s so many that it’s hard to keep track of them all, too. You know that you’re supposed to wear black clothes and cry when you go to a ‘funeral’, and that a ‘Valentine’s Day’ means that everything has to be all pink and red, and you have to do lots of kissing and eat lots of chocolates and flowers. Or maybe you’re meant to grow flowers? It all sounds very complicated.

For a while, ‘birthdays’ were your favourite because they always seem to involve some sort of special, tasty cake, but apparently there are lots of other rituals that have cake too…? Like - oh, what are they called again? - ‘housewarmings’? Or was that ‘baby’s showers’? There’s quite a lot to choose from, so you’re sort of in between favourites at the moment.

In any case, demons don’t really have a concept of ‘marriage’. Love, in general, is quite difficult for you to wrap your head around at all - it just doesn’t come quite as naturally to you as it seems to do for humans.

Vega says it’s probably something to do with the way your two species originated - humans had to evolve on their own and needed to stay in big groups to survive, so they had to find a way of keeping each other attached to the group. Demons, created by the Sovereigns, strong with magic and with no natural predators, tend to be much more solitary. You’re not sure if you entirely believe his explanation, but it’s the best you’ve got.

That’s not to say that demons can’t feel love. You can feel just as many things as humans can - and you would argue that you feel some things much more deeply than humans do.

If a human ever felt the way you feel about Vega, you think their body would burst into flame right then and there. Everybody knows that magic is tied inextricably to emotion, and your body is literally made of the stuff, but sometimes you think you might just melt away into nothing, falling apart into your astral form at nothing more than a glance from him.

It’s too much - he’s too much. You were made to know emotions, to grow them and eat them and hold them, but every time it’s like the first. His words in your mind and his hand in yours and his lips on your simulated skin - he turns you into a fizzing, sparking wreck, flooded with love and full of bubbles.

Melting, or maybe overflowing. A human could never understand.

That being said…

Demons might not approach love in the same way as humans do. But, if it were with him, you think it might be nice to try.

Plus, he makes it sound… nice. The next day, you’d gone on the computer and looked up all sorts of information about human weddings. What they mean, where they happen, what people do when they’re there. There were lots of different websites that all said different things, but after a while you got the gist of it.

Vega was right - they’re like big parties with lots of flowers and cake, and it’s all to celebrate two people being in love forever. They wear special clothes so they look all pretty, and make each other special promises to never ever be apart, and give each other special rings so that everybody in the whole world knows that they’re very very in love.

It sounds wonderful.

(It’s a little bit embarrassing to say out loud, but if Vega ever gave you a ring like that, you don’t think you’d ever take it off.)

You’re not brave enough to ask him to his face. What if he says no? Maybe he’ll think it’s all just a stupid human custom, maybe he’ll think it would be an insult to his demonic nature. Maybe he won’t feel the same, maybe he’d never want something like that with you. God, you’d never be able to look him in the eye again if he said that.

Luckily, telepathy comes quite naturally to you two.

Vega?

Yes, dearest? He must pick up on your nervousness from downstairs, and you can feel the ward around the house ripple slightly as he checks it. What’s the matter?

I was thinking about, um… Your hands twist in your lap, claws picking at the fabric of your shirt and tail brushing anxiously over the bedspread behind you. I was thinking about those human marriages again. From that programme last week.

The wedding you showed me? I remember.

Here we go. Did you like it?

Did I… what?

You know, the - the thing they did, you say hesitantly, gesturing vaguely in front of you like he can see you. With the talking and the flowers and stuff.

With the… You don’t even need to see - you can picture the puzzled look on his face as clear as anything. Darling, I’m - I’m not sure what you mean.

He must be able to feel it by now, the way your heart races in your chest as your body tries desperately to catch up with whatever strange, tangled rush of emotions is running through you. Like the thing where they were in the room, the big room with all the people in, when - oh, it - I just - it’s - do you - wait-!

You hear footsteps coming up the stairs and panic, throwing up a haphazard ward across the door in case he tries to come in. It won’t stop him rifting, but hopefully he’ll get the message.

Sweetheart, you-

Just - just forget about it, you mumble, tucking your knees to your chest and curling your tail tightly around your ankle in shame. It was always a stupid idea. It’s fine.

I don’t think it is. Vega’s aura, at the top of the stairs but not coming any closer. I can feel it, little one. What’s got you so worked up, hmm?

Magic bouncing softly against the door, testing the edges of your ward, but you still won’t let him in. Your face burns at the realisation that he really isn’t going to let this go - fuck, now you’ll have to say it…

I want - I thought-

Thank goodness you don’t actually have to form the words physically. Speaking like a human is complicated enough as it is, let alone when it’s about something as awkward as this.

Just… if that was ever something that - that you might… want. For, um - for us.

Silence.

Like, a long silence.

Sitting there, getting more and more nervous, you’re tripping over yourself trying to backpedal. And obviously you don’t have to say anything - it’s kind of a stupid idea, anyway - ‘cause, like, they’re humans and we’re demons and it’s not even that important and it would probably just be a bad idea and we - we wouldn’t - it’s just a silly human custom - it’s not - you’re right, we shouldn’t - it’s only if-

Darling.

A single claw tilts your face up from where it’s buried against your legs, and all of a sudden Vega’s right there, standing in front of you by the side of the bed. He must have - god, he must have rifted in while you were distracted with your rambling - fuck, what’s he going to say…

Little one, is that… You can’t meet his gaze, so caught up in your own swirling storm of agitation that you can’t even begin to tell what he’s feeling.

Is that something you want? With me?

Thoroughly humiliated, you turn your head away, fangs digging painfully into your lip. Oh, can’t he just know? He always knows! Why does he have to make you say it?

Answer me, darling.

Eyes closed, magic burns under your skin as you give the tiniest, tiniest nod.

Yeah.

And now, well…

Now he knows. And now you’re going to have to figure out what the hell you’re going to do when he inevitably starts laughing, because honestly, why would someone like Vega - Vega! - ever in a thousand million years want to marry someone like you? Now, you’ll have to try and fix this, make him forget it ever happened or that you ever even entertained the thought that a demon might want - would want - could want to get married, crush down that horrible, biting, burning feeling in your chest that you know means-

“Mmf-!!”

Suddenly, you’re not on the bed anymore - well, you are, but not sitting up like you were before. A strong arm looped around your waist, his other hand cradling the back of your head as the world blurs around you, and before you can even blink you’re pinned flat on your back by the weight of Vega’s body as he kisses you down into the bed.

This was - you - mmm…

Buried in the warmth and the press and the need of him, it takes your brain a minute to catch up before you timidly kiss him back. What’s he doing?

He’s all you can feel as he clutches you against him, strangely urgent, pulling you up and pushing you down all at once as the mattress creaks quietly beneath you. Stunned fingers twist hesitantly in the sides of his shirt as he licks viciously into your mouth - you’re too surprised to resist the tug of his tail around your thigh, wrapping around and around just above your knee, hitching your leg up over his hip.

It doesn’t make sense. Why’s he doing this? Pity?

He must be trying to let you down gently. And it’s very kind of him, it really is - but the thought makes something small and sad curl up in your stomach somewhere, and it’s with a tiny sigh that your fingers slowly let go of his shirt and you push him back.

Only that doesn’t happen - it’s what you were trying to do, but somehow he doesn't let you go. You jolt in surprise at the frustrated snarl that shudders through him, crushing his chest down to yours, one hand finding your wrists and pinning them up above your head.

Darling, you…

All you have to do is ask, you know that? He sounds breathless, even though he doesn’t need to breathe. You only ever, ever have to ask.

You don’t understand. Partly because he’s doing that thing with his tongue that he knows you like, but mostly because he’s not making any sense. I, uh - what?

Marry me.

His hand slides down from your wrists, claws trailing lightly along your arm, before slipping under your chin to cup your jaw. Marry me, and then you can tell me if you like it or not.

Really? Your eyes fly open, sitting up slightly and breaking the kiss as you beam up at him. You really mean it?

Well, it’s probably not a very traditional proposal, but… He pretends to think, before giving in and kissing you again. I wouldn’t say we’re especially conventional at the best of times.

You can’t stop smiling as he gathers you up in his arms, purring happily into the side of his neck, tail enthusiastically flicking back and forth behind you. Mm, it’s good enough for me.

That’s my warden, he murmurs into your mind, thick with affection. My little romantic.

He heads back downstairs with a promise to talk about it more later - after he leaves the room, you fall back onto the bed with a giddy grin and your tummy full of butterflies. If he can feel your excitement from the living room, he doesn’t mention it.

You’re getting married. Married! You, a demon! Oh, this is much more exciting than Wheel of Fortune.

The next morning, you’re having a glass of apple juice in the kitchen when Vega comes in behind you, bending down to give you a kiss before getting himself a drink as well.

I’ve given it some thought, he says, peering at the various juice cartons you’ve lined up in the fridge. Neither of you need to eat or drink anything, and you could just as easily make it with magic if you did, but it’s all part of the show.

(If television has taught you anything, it’s that everybody’s neighbours are always watching them, all the time. In order to keep up the charade, you make sure to go and bring back shopping from the supermarket once a week, and hang up clothes on the washing line outside when it’s sunny, and water the flowers in the front garden when it hasn’t rained for a while.)

You hum quietly in acknowledgement. How so?

Logistics.

Go on.

How soon were you thinking? He waves a hand at the cabinet on the other side of the room, summoning one of the glasses from the shelf inside, before emerging from the fridge with the carton of cranberry juice in hand.

Taking a sip of your juice, you consider the question - although to be honest, you already know what you want the answer to be. How soon can it be?

Properly? Never. He inclines his head slightly at your raised eyebrow, the picture of resigned disappointment. You forget how few rights demons have here, my love.

Weren’t they trying to make it legal? I thought I saw something about a case going to court a few months ago.

As far as I know, there’s been no verdict yet. And even if there is, who knows how long the Department will drag its feet to make it law? He finishes pouring the juice into his glass, before putting it back on the shelf and closing the fridge door. Besides, that case is about a demon and a human, not two demons. I suspect any attempt to make that legal in Elegy would be thoroughly rejected by a human court, simply on the basis that it’s a demonic affair that has nothing to do with them.

Damn. So not any time soon, then.

Not legally, no.

Annoyed, you take another sip. And illegally?

Well, I did look into it… He trails off with that infuriating grin painted across his face, tail swishing lazily back and forth in a way that you can only describe as supremely self-satisfied. Although I’m terribly offended at the insinuation. Breaking the law? Me?

Vega.

I’m not even sure I’d be capable of such a thing, really. I mean, do I look like a criminal to you? He shakes his head in righteous disapproval, smirking over the top of his glass, and he’s so, so punchable right now. Where on earth did you get that idea from?

Silently, you pull a drinking straw out of thin air, dropping it in your glass and finishing your drink with a long, irritated sluuuuuurp.

He laughs under his breath for a second longer, but relents at your flat, distinctly impatient glare.

Tomorrow.

…Okay, that’s not what you thought he was going to say.

You - you’re not-

Taken aback, it takes you a few seconds to string a reply together. You’d been expecting him to say something like a few weeks, or a month - not a day.

Very funny, you manage, through a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as confused as it feels. You’re joking.

Did it sound like a joke? He lifts the glass to his mouth as he speaks, swallowing another mouthful of juice. I’m serious. Tomorrow.

He doesn’t feel like he’s lying. Which, to be fair, doesn’t actually tell you much - he’s far too good at it for you to ever really know. And - just to make it clear, that’s fine. You’re used to it now. It’s kind of a trust-based thing.

(There’s probably some sort of ethical dynamite in there somewhere, but that’s beside the point.)

(...Look, it’s pragmatic, not foolproof. You’ve been trying not to think about it.)

You have a plan?

He pauses.

Of sorts.

Then tell me. The empty glass is warm as you turn it over and over in your hands. What is it?

His words are slower, decidedly measured as he holds your gaze. It’s not the sort of plan you like.

Why not? This doesn’t sound good. Behind you, the glass clatters against the countertop as you blindly put it down. Vega, why won’t I like it?

He doesn’t answer, slow steps across the kitchen until he’s right in front of you. Close, so close - but he doesn’t touch you, though. It’s weird. Your hands feel too cold.

How do you feel about humans dying?

Ah.

Right, okay. It’s that sort of plan.

I… It takes you a long moment to think about it, but eventually you reply. It depends.

Vega’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly. Just like that, you’re playing the game again. On what?

Do I know them?

He shakes his head. No.

Is it painful?

A little.

You’re intrigued. What did they do?

Nothing. He’s blank, carefully neutral. They’re just… in the way.

You’re not that stupid. In our way, you mean.

Does it bother you? he asks, placing his glass on the counter and reaching down to take your hands gently in his. It’s a distraction, and it works. If I told you that a hundred humans would have to die so that I could marry you tomorrow, would you say yes?

Closing your eyes, you drop your head forward against his shoulder. This isn’t a hypothetical, is it?

He doesn’t flinch, hands still holding yours. Lightly, he kisses the top of your head.

No.

So he really is telling the truth, then.

Objectively, you know what to say. It’s wrong. You know it’s wrong. It’s selfish and callous and a horrible, awful waste of human life. You’d feel terrible - it would be terrible. All those people, just… gone, snatched out of existence in a single, terrifying moment, just because you can’t be bothered to wait for a wedding that doesn’t actually mean anything.

But that’s not true, is it?

Because it does mean something - it means everything. This feeling, this craving, this aching burning starving need that howls inside you. It won’t stop, it can’t be stopped. Curled up and crammed in your chest, throwing itself desperately against the cruel confines of your physical body, and then the very borders of your astral mind.

All day, all night - it just kicks and thrashes and cries out for him him him, for the weight of his arms around your body and the kiss of his thoughts and the shape of his stars on your skin. There’s no controlling this anymore - you know it, can’t stop knowing it. He’s all that matters for you now.

It had been awful, back then. You hadn’t known what to call it. The seed of a feeling, warm and floating and be still, darling, I’m already taking care of it, set aflame and monstrously hungry. Has anyone else ever felt like this before? They must have died like this, they couldn’t possibly have gone on like this, every moment being swallowed up by this screeching, wretched craving.

You’d learnt that humans call it love, but it’s not enough for him. There can’t be words for how this feels.

Yes, it’s wrong. But you’re finally - finally! - figuring out what to call this feeling, finding out how good it feels to let it win, and you can’t just give that up, can you? You don’t know them, and you don’t really care to know. They’re just humans. There are plenty more where they came from.

And anyway, haven’t you had this dilemma before? Vega was right, when he said that human morality didn’t have to mean anything to you. You’re not human, and you don’t have to pretend you are anymore. Watering yourself down for the sake of a handful of humans isn’t worth it.

You deserve to be happy. The rest isn’t your problem.

Then yes. One hand slides up into his hair to pull him down to you, thin, shallow scratch marks trailing behind your fingers, while your other arm locks around his waist. Yes, I want this. And I don’t want to wait.

And just like that, the game becomes a dance.

He bends easily enough to your grip, but the look in his eyes is cold and serious. Humans will die.

You shrug, nonchalant. They’ll die anyway.

We’ll be hunted.

The air is getting thinner. We already are.

You’ll be a murderer.

The walls are getting closer. I already am.

Your impatience will kill them.

Frustrated, you dig your claws in properly this time, fangs bared in a snarl. And your hesitation will kill me.

His hands, warm and heavy on your hips. Apple juice, sweet and sticky and sliding down your throat. The smile breaks across his face, wicked and cruel and ever so handsome, and you know you’ve got him.

Then marry me tomorrow, my little warden, and I’ll kill a thousand humans for you.

You lean up to kiss his cheek, totally content. Only if I get to watch.

You’ll do more than watch, he replies, knocking his horns gently against yours, and you like where this is going. It’s no fun if you don’t get your hands dirty.

If you wanted me to get my hands dirty, you should have just said.

Don’t say things you don’t mean, darling. The coolness of the countertop presses into your back as he leans forward, and your heart flutters as he scrapes his fangs over your neck. You might give me all sorts of ideas.

The rest of the day, once you’ve finished, um, brainstorming, is spent sorting out the finer points of the plan. It turns out he was mostly lying about killing all those humans - technically, you only need two for it to work. That’s how you’re thinking of doing it, although you can always change your mind.

The plan is… actually, it’s not that complicated. Not really.

Everyone on the computer had said that planning one of these weddings would be really difficult and would take ages, but that must be if you’re planning it from scratch. You'd need money, a proper address, some sort of fake human identification, the special clothes and the special room and the special party…

That’s far too much effort, in your opinion. Who even has the time for all that?

Luckily, there’s nothing a little magic can’t fix.

A small town means that there's no Department facilities here, and not really any empowered people here who might be able to spot you - that’s one of the reasons why you came here in the first place. It’s a big relief not to have to worry about all that. Plus, if anyone empowered were to come looking after the fact, this place is so out of the way that any traces of magic would have long-faded.

Thank goodness for that, and for a demon’s natural affinity for unfocused telepathy. Your range isn't quite wide enough, but Vega could probably listen in on half the town from your kitchen window if he tried hard enough.

Ready, my love?

Even from all the way over here, you can see that the churchyard is a flurry of activity. There are humans everywhere, rushing in and out of doors with flowers and ribbons and fairy lights left and right. The whole affair is practically soaked in a strange mixture of stress and excitement, so strong you can taste it from across the road, and you watch as a harried-looking lady with an armful of candles runs into the church like she’s being chased. What on earth…?

Yeah. I think so.

Looking over at your… oh, what’s it called again? Rosé? Is that what you’re meant to call him? Or is it the one that starts with - no, that’s attaché - or the one with the two e’s - no, that’s negligée - oh, whatever the word is, that’s what he is now.

Anyway, he’s very handsome. That’s all you wanted to say.

(Fiancé! That’s the one.)

I believe the one you need should be in one of the rooms over there, Vega says, inclining his head towards one of the buildings next to the church. Do you remember what you’re looking for?

You nod, pleased. A happy lady with a white dress.

(This particular wedding is for a lady and a gentleman, and you’re hoping it won’t be too difficult to find them. All of the men are wearing suits, and you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart - Vega’s a bit better at that sort of thing, so he’s off to find the groom. Meanwhile, you’ve got to find the bride, but the fact that she should be the only one wearing a white dress should make your job a bit easier.)

Good. The cloaking magic ripples under his touch as he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing the backs of your fingers. I’ll come and get you when I’m finished, alright?

See you in a bit.

You wave as he walks off, before heading over to the building he’d pointed out. As you pass the front of the churchyard, you have a quick look at what’s going on in there - it’s all still very busy, and two or three of the humans look like they might be about to come to blows over some sort of floral arrangement.

The clothes everyone is wearing are much more interesting than normal. Most are dressed quite smartly, lots of suits and long dresses and sparkly jewellery. Some of the ladies are even wearing big, brightly coloured hats that are perched at such a silly angle, they must be stuck on with magic. How else are they staying on?

Unseen, you phase through the door of the building, following the sounds of chatter through the hallways and up the stairs. There are people wandering back and forth doing all sorts of things - some are carrying trays of little bite-sized snacks, some are laden with flowers, and one or two are running around with cameras like the one you have at home, taking pictures of everything.

It’s quite fun, looking at all the people, sneaking around all invisible like this. It’s like being a secret spy!

The sound gets louder and louder, until you turn the corner and find a gaggle of ladies all hanging around in one of the rooms, chittering away. You’re still cloaked, so they can’t see you - curiously, you walk through the open doorway to see what all the fuss is about.

“Oh my god, don’t turn the air conditioning on! I’m, like, freezing already…”

“Do you have tissues?”

“No, no, you look amazing… Yeah, so pretty…”

“What do you mean, pink? I thought you said it was purple!”

“It’s literally not even that hot!”

“Did you bring flats?”

“I already called - he said they’re coming with her cousin.”

…It’s pretty loud, up close.

There are quite a few people in here - some in all black wielding hair combs and makeup sponges, one stressed-looking one who looks about five seconds away from absolutely clattering someone with her clipboard, and about five or six ladies milling around in matching pink dresses, fiddling with each other’s nails and moving various bunches of flowers from one flat surface to another.

These must be the bridesmaids, which means…

“Did you get my iced coffee already?”

…that must be the bride.

She’s sort of standing in the middle of everything, turning this way and that in front of the big mirror on the far side of the room, being poked and brushed and clipped from seemingly every angle. It looks like they’re just finishing off, though, as she grabs the plastic cup of presumably-coffee with one hand and takes a big sip through the straw, while waving away the person pinning flowers into her hair with the other.

Lady, check. White dress, check. Happy? Well, she gets a big rush of dopamine from the mouthful of coffee, so that’s basically the same thing.

Time’s probably starting to run a little short, if the panicked look on one of the bridesmaid’s faces when she checks her phone is any indication, so you’ll have to make this quick. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, and reach for the bride’s mind.

“I said I wanted - I said - I-”

Unfortunately, you must be out of practice - you manage to grab most of it, but the bit you can’t quite reach starts to panic as she feels herself freeze. You wince at the carpet-burn feeling of friction in her head, her mind desperately thrashing against itself in confusion as it tries to fend you off, but luckily she’s not magical. You’ll have her in another second.

“I want - I said - it’s not-”

She stutters over her sentence as you fight for control, and you swear under your breath as the magic slips out from underneath you again. Why is this woman so resistant?

“Can you just…” She trails off, suddenly tongue-tied, and you curse silently as her mind drops through your fingers again. “I need - I can’t - please, please, I-”

Vega’s good with panic, but you’ve always found it difficult - it’s making her mind all slippery and liquid, shiny and slick and falling out of your hands every time you try to grab it. Gritting your teeth, you make another grab for those last few bits of her consciousness, and-

“I said I’m fine.”

Got her.

“Just leave me alone. I want to be alone right now.”

Her brain screams at you when you make her say it, but she can’t do anything about it. You make her face smile at the lady with the clipboard, who thankfully seems to take the hint and starts herding everyone else out.

After about a minute or so of back-and-forth, the room is finally empty.

Hello.

You’re already in her mind, so you might as well speak there. The cloaking fizzles away to reveal you, standing behind her in the mirror, and if she could move, you’re sure she would have jumped a foot in the air at the sight of you.

How are you?

She doesn’t reply, too full of fear to speak back to you, but it’s okay. You’re just being polite.

Slowly, you walk around her until you’re standing side-by-side - thank goodness it’s quite a big mirror. You smile into the mirror, careful not to get too close in case you accidentally catch her fancy hairstyle on your horns.

Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.

You both watch in the mirror as your body begins to change, thickening in some places and narrowing in others, muscle and fat and bone morphing under the skin as you pour your form into her shape. It starts slow, but gets faster as you get more into it, tweaking the hair texture, the fingernail length, the skin tone, in order to get as close to her appearance as possible.

Your clothes, too, start to change - cotton turns to chiffon as you imitate her dress, and you pay special attention to the complicated details of the lace. It looks very intricate and pretty, and you’d hate to lose it in the transformation process.

Smile, please?

Helplessly, overflowing with fear, she smiles. You bare your fangs as well, paring them down until they’re just like her blunt human teeth, and shortening your tongue slightly until it’s a more conventionally human length.

Thank you. And could you just lift up your dress a little bit?

She’s forced to obey, one hand lifting up the hem of the dress just enough to let you see the shoes she’s wearing. They’re white too, sort of satiny, with a shiny silver embellishment on the front - you wobble a little bit on the high heels as your own shoes suddenly turn into replicas of hers, but it’s not too bad.

You probably have a bouquet, too, don’t y-

A knock at the door. Instinctively, you whip around to face it, claws lengthening and fangs sharp in your mouth as magic builds beneath your palms, until it hits you.

“Is that you in there, my love?”

Of course. Hurriedly, you pull the transformation back into place, smoothing out the creases in your dress from where you’d ruffled it.

You meet the human’s terrified eyes in the mirror, and her brain recoils at the sight of her own face glaring at her. Reply. Now.

“I’m here!”

The door opens, and a human man walks into the room. He’s a little bit taller than you are now, and he’s wearing a grey suit with a blue bow tie and a little cluster of white flowers on the left lapel. You’ve never seen him before, but you know exactly who he is.

The bride’s mind flickers with hope at the sight of her husband-to-be, like he’s come to protect her from you. That hope is short-lived, though - gleefully, you swallow the horror that grips her as the man ignores her entirely and comes to stand behind you instead. It’s so strong, and you gulp down mouthful after mouthful as her body floods with useless adrenaline and her eyes fill with petrified tears.

“Oh, darling,” the man sighs, and the lady’s heart splits in two. “You look lovely.”

Thank him.

“Thank you, I really like it. Thank you, I really like it. Thank you, I really like it.”

The woman speaks at your command, and you mouth along with her until you think you’ve copied her voice correctly. Her accent is a little tricky at first, not quite the same as your usual one, but it doesn’t take long to get a feel for it.

Stop.

She stops, and you clear your new throat with a small cough.

“Thank you. I really like it.”

Vega smiles down at you with his unfamiliar face, and you curl into the right-but-wrong cradle of his arms as easily as ever. At your back, his clothes feel much thicker and heavier than his usual preference, but you take comfort in the lack of heartbeat in his chest, and the way he doesn’t breathe unless he needs to speak. Underneath the mask, he’s still your Vega.

That being said, it is a bit weird. The proportions are all different and it’s throwing you off slightly.

You’re used to looking up a little more - these humans are more similar in height than you and Vega normally are, so it’s weird for him to be so… close? Like, his face is just closer to you, because these new human forms mean he’s not as tall as usual when compared to you.

“Did you have much trouble?” he asks, gently rocking the two of you back and forth. It feels nice.

You shrug. “It was fine. Just had to get back into the swing of it.”

“Mm.” His hands skim over the front of your dress, feeling the different textures of the lace and silk and chiffon that now adorn you. “It’s funny how quickly it comes back to you.”

It’s quite bizarre, being in this body. The weight is distributed differently, and the musculature isn’t yet familiar - you shift your weight from foot to foot, trying to get used to the balance. As you do, the long skirt of the dress follows you, swishing languidly back and forth as the long train weighs it down.

“If you want to dance, we can dance.” Vega tilts his head to look at your awkward swaying, taking your hand and lifting his arm for you to slowly twirl under. “Aren’t you elegant, hm?”

“I’m not sure you know what that word means,” you mutter, turning this way and that in front of the mirror as you try to get used to this new, strange body. “I look all… weird.”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful, darling,” he murmurs, fingers tipping your chin up to look at the two of you in the mirror. Like this, you could almost believe you were looking at a photograph, or a portrait. “My little blushing bride.”

He reaches out and floats something long and white over from the table, before repositioning you slightly further in front of him. Surprised, you watch as he fiddles with your new hair, attaching the object to the back of your head and stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“There.”

You turn, looking over your shoulder in the mirror. A long, gauzy veil floats behind you, trailing down to the floor, and you mentally correct yourself. Not so much a photograph as a storybook - the fairytale prince and princess, starting off on a happily ever after.

On the floor by your feet, a mobile phone buzzes.

Amy (wedding planner): Coming up to get you in 5! Hope you’re ready

“Showtime, I take it?”

You nod, a little disappointed. You were enjoying yourself.

Unfortunately, he takes that as his cue to leave, bending down to kiss your cheek and batting away your hands with a laugh as you try to tug him closer. “Don’t forget your bouquet, my sweet.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you reply, watching in idle admiration as he heads towards the door. Whoever chose this suit definitely knew what they were doing.

“Then I’ll see you downstairs, my love.” He’s just got one hand on the door handle when-

“Wait!”

He pauses, turning back to you in confusion. “What?”

“You couldn’t just, um…” You gesture vaguely at the lady next to you, still frozen in front of the mirror. “For me?”

“Too messy for you?” He sighs in false disappointment, though you can feel the magic building excitedly beneath his skin already. “I thought you were all for getting your hands dirty, darling.”

You look pointedly down at your nice white dress, and then back at him. He knows he’s much cleaner at this than you are. “I am not cleaning blood off this. I just made it!”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Vega walks back over as you reach down, offering you a steadying arm as you hoist the hem of your dress up a bit with one hand, so you don’t trip over your new shoes. “Say goodbye, dear.”

You wave cheerily at the lady, tottering over to the table and picking up the bouquet. It really is stunning, all white and pink flowers with lots of pretty greenery mixed in. Curiously, you bring it up to your face to see if it smells nice, but it doesn’t really smell of anything at all.

The whole room tastes like terror. She stares at her own face, and you make it smile back.

The train of your dress slides smoothly along the floor behind you with a satisfying swishing sound, and you’re pleasantly surprised at how nice it feels to walk around in. It fits very well on your borrowed body, and it’s more comfortable than you thought it would be.

You can hear someone coming up the stairs - looks like you’d better get going. Apologetically, you give Vega a shrug, but he already knows. It would probably be bad if someone walked in on all this.

“See you in a bit.” You blow him a kiss with the hand not holding the bouquet, shy smile spreading across your face as he catches it and presses it to his lips. “I love you.”

“As I love you, darling.”

The door clicks open, then closed again. The clipboard lady, just rounding the corner, looks relieved to see you, and ushers you down the stairs.

(Behind you, a human man smiles at a human woman. His teeth are much, much sharper than she remembers them to be. Then her body constricts and crushes inwards, dark blood soaking through white silk, and she doesn’t remember anything at all.)

You have to walk quite slowly, still getting used to the shoes, so it’s lucky that you’ve got someone to hold onto. The clipboard lady chatters away as she takes you through the building, out to the sunny churchyard and up to the doors, but you’re not really listening. You’re much too busy floating in the beautiful ambience of it all - the excited nervousness of the bridesmaids, the satisfied anticipation you can feel coming from inside the church.

Everything just looks so pretty, soft pinks and primrose yellows among the sea of white. There’s glitter, and balloons, and gold writing on pastel-coloured bunting. Long swathes of cream-coloured fabric are draped all across the walls and ceiling, and you’re utterly enchanted by the delicate displays of flowers dotted around the room.

Humans have such inventive ways of making things look nice. Maybe you should get some flowers and streamers to decorate the house with.

Belatedly, you realise that you’ve been handed off to some human man, though you don’t know who he is. He looks a bit older than the lady you’re supposed to be, and he feels sort of… sad? But also happy. Nostalgic, maybe? It’s weird.

He fishes around in his pocket for a second, before holding out a little silver disc towards you. What is that? Is it a coin? You take it, and suddenly you realise what it’s meant to be.

It’s a sixpence! Oh, you’ve read about this! Yes, yes, this is a thing that humans do - eagerly, you hitch up your dress and lift your heel slightly out of your shoe, slipping the coin under your foot. The metal is a bit cold, but it quickly warms up, and the man is nice enough to hold your arm to keep you upright as you readjust yourself.

Whoever this man is, it’s very good of him to give it to you. “Thank you!” you say earnestly, giving him a big smile.

For some reason, you feel a little spark of surprise flare inside him when you say that, although he clearly tries not to show it. Do people not say ‘thank you’ when somebody gives them a present? But you’re sure they do - it’s one of the first things in that awful instructional video they make all demons watch when they come to Elegy for the first time. Perhaps he’s just having an off day today.

He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, the music coming from inside the church suddenly gets very loud. All of the bridesmaids seem to have split off into pairs with the men that were milling around here, one lady with one gentleman, and the doors open to let them walk inside.

Is this where you come in? Ooh, you’ve seen this bit on the television! The man who gave you the coin now takes your arm, and the clipboard lady fusses over your dress to make sure the train is laying flat. She also brings the shorter part of the veil over your head, adjusting it so that it falls forwards over your face and down to your waist - fortunately, it doesn’t obscure your vision too much.

(Even if it did, you could just use magic to adjust your eyes slightly so that it didn’t matter, but it’s not that bad. No point in messing around with your disguise right now.)

Magic swirls and fizzes inside you, bursting like fireworks in the dark sky that fills your form. You’re going to marry Vega. You! Marrying him! Today really is like a fairytale, and you don’t even try to hide the lovesick expression that must be all over your face right now.

Somewhere inside, they start playing a familiar song, and the man leads you slowly through the doors. Bouquet in hand, you walk with him, and try not to trip over your long dress.

Everybody in the church is standing up and facing you - suddenly, you’re very glad for the veil. It’s a bit awkward, but you focus on the nice feelings of admiration and happiness drifting through the room, and that makes it better.

Yeah, that’s better. It’s like being part of a play, and all these people are your admiring audience. Today, you get to be the star!

Bright light streaming through the stained glass, lovely music playing as the church organ sings away. At the front of the room, you finally catch sight of Vega - he’s standing next to the altar, and even though his face is different, you’d recognise the beautiful curve of his smile anywhere.

There you are, dearest.

His voice in your head is comfortingly familiar, and as you get closer you can feel the affection in his aura. You give him the tiniest wave, as best you can without making it too obvious, and you have to swallow down the swell of giddy excitement that rushes through you as he waves back.

When you get to the front, there’s some sort of fussing while everyone gets sorted. One of the bridesmaids takes your bouquet, before going to sit down on one of the chairs, and the man in the funny robes next to Vega - the priest? Is that the right one? - tells the man who walked you up here to give you away, or something like that.

It’s a weird thing to say, but the man nods and lets go of your arm, going off to sit down in the front row. One of the bridesmaids stays standing a little bit behind you, and one of the gentlemen stays behind Vega, but as far as you’re concerned, it’s just you and him.

(Most people would say that’s a bad thing. You thoroughly disagree.)

Gently, ever so gently, Vega lifts the veil from your face, letting it fall behind your head once again. As he does it, he blinks deliberately at you with a grin, eyes flicking back to their usual colour for just a second before turning back to their current borrowed blue.

You do the same, keeping a careful grip on the rest of the glamour as it slides back into place. Nobody notices, their human eyes too weak and slow, and the thrill of your shared secret makes your heart feel all warm and fizzy.

There’s a bit more talking from the priest man, during which you take the opportunity to sample a few of the emotions in the room. There are a few sour ones, but they make the nice ones that much sweeter - your mouthful of excitement tastes even better with the swirl of jealousy that runs through it.

He doesn’t say much that’s interesting, but you learn that the lady you’re impersonating is actually called ‘Karla Dillon’, and the man who Vega’s pretending to be is called ‘Justin Bryant’. They’re quite ridiculous names, if you’re honest. Much less sensible than Vega’s or yours, but that’s what you get with humans.

Eventually, the priest turns to you. It’s a little jarring when he calls you by this weird, wrong name, but you don’t let it show.

“Karla, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage?” he says to you. “Will you love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”

Well, those all sound like good things. You nod enthusiastically, and say “I will.”

He asks Vega the same question, who says the same thing as you. As he says it, you both make eye contact - you can tell you’re both thinking the same thing. If only this human knew just how long you two are going to live.

There’s a bit more talking - you amuse yourself by counting all the petals in the little cluster of flowers that are pinned on Vega’s jacket, and magically making all of the candles flicker in different patterns. He plays along by making them flicker back, and out of the corner of your eye you see one of the men at the back of the room switch one of the standing fans off.

You tune back in just as Vega reaches out, lightly bumping your mind with his own as he softly takes your right hand in both of his. New face, old expression. Looking up at him like this, it’s like there’s nobody else in the world.

“In the name of God, I, Justin, take you, Karla…” He takes a breath, and to anyone else it might look like he’s trying to stop himself from crying. You, however, know that he’s actually trying not to laugh. These names really are silly.

He clears his throat, and tries again. “I take you to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

Before he lets go, he presses his thumb lightly over the backs of your fingers, right where he normally kisses your hand. You really have to fight the urge to just grab him and kiss him right now - how dare he be so sweet to you, in front of all these people?

It feels a little off, when you take his hand in return - the shape is all wrong, and his fingers aren’t as long as you’re used to. Even so, you don’t mind. It’s still him, no matter what form he takes.

The words are a little difficult to remember, but you do your best. “In the name of God, I, Karla, take you, Justin, to be my husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

It’s disappointing when you have to let go - it feels cold, and you’d much rather keep holding his hand. He must feel your disappointment, though, nudging a pulse of encouragement into your consciousness, and it does help a bit.

Luckily, you don’t have to let go for very long. The man behind Vega comes over and offers him a little square, embroidered cushion, with two rings sitting on top. One is quite plain, just a smooth, shiny gold band, while the other has a big, teardrop-shaped diamond in the middle - Vega picks up the one with the diamond, and reaches for your hand again.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, with all that I am, and all that I have.”

He says it in your mind, as well as out loud, and the feeling of his real voice in your head is almost enough to have you bursting into tears right then and there. The slight disturbance in the air where his horns are hidden shudders slightly, a reassuring reminder, and you blink away the tears as you watch him slide the ring onto your finger.

The man then comes to you, offering the cushion, and you reach out to take the other ring. Your hands tremble slightly with nervous excitement as you slip it on Vega’s finger, and you’re sure you can’t quite hide the possessiveness in your voice as you speak - both in his head and with your human mouth.

You definitely remember the words for this part. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, with all that I am, and all that I have.”

Vega smiles. Suddenly, you’re reminded of something he said the other day.

Have you ever seen a wedding ring before?

It had been dark, late at night in bed, and you’d just been falling asleep when he’d asked you. Sleepily, you’d turned to face him, but the blackout curtains always make it too dark to really see anything.

I think so. One of your old coworkers had shown you, once - a flat little gold band around his finger. I heard it was like a kind of courting gift.

Something like that. As I understand it, the ring is less of a present, and more… more of a promise, I suppose. Or a reminder.

You remember thinking that it was an unusual thing to say. Are humans really that stupid? Why do they have to wear a special ring to remind them that they’re in love? Shouldn’t they just… know?

Humans are always making things more complicated than they need to be, little one. I thought that was obvious.

So what makes these kinds of rings special? Are they magical?

No, there’s no magic, he’d replied, shaking his head. Unempowered humans can have weddings too.

Frustrated, you’d let your head drop heavy on the pillow. Then what’s the point?

I suppose there isn’t one, he’d said, thoughtful. Humans like all sorts of odd things.

He hadn’t said anything for a long time, and you’re still not sure if the next thing he’d said had been real, or just something your tired mind had dreamt up. Maybe we’ll just have to find out for ourselves.

New weight on your finger, new light in your heart. He’s yours. Now, you think you might understand why humans like these little rings so much.

There’s a little more talking, including a slightly weird part where the two of you have to kneel down while the priest does a sort of short speech over your heads. Vaguely, you remember Vega saying it’s meant to be some sort of blessing, but you aren’t actually paying attention. Instead, you let the words just wash over you, the joyful tide rushing over the sand, and you don’t let go of his hand this time.

When the speech is over, Vega helps you stand - you respond with a grateful pulse of affection in his mind. These blasted shoes are really starting to hurt now, and there’s so much material with all this dress and veil stuff that you have to steady yourself with some subtle psychokinesis to stop you tripping and falling flat on your face. Thank goodness you’ve got him here to keep you upright!

Thankfully, the priest waits until you’re both steady on your feet to speak, and you’re very glad he does. This is the bit you've been looking forward to most of all.

“Karla and Justin,” he says with a smile, “having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife.”

The candles flicker. In the corner of your eye, a lady in the front row dabs at her eye with a tissue.

“You may kiss.”

A human hand cradles the back of your head, slips around your waist, leans you backwards into a picture-perfect dip. A human face smiles down at you, eyes bright with the thrill of new love. A human man leans down to kiss his bride, sweetly and softly, on the happiest day of his life.

“Shall we, darling?”

You smile, and it’s all teeth. “Of course.”

The glamour splitting, splintering, crumbling to dust. It's no human who holds you now. A woman screams in the second row as the facade falls away, and Vega's horns click gently against yours as he finally kisses you.

Vaguely, you're aware of the thick layer of paralysis magic that condenses in the room, locking the humans in place before they can do anything, but you don’t really pay it any mind. You’re far too focused on the warmth of Vega’s tail tangling with yours under your dress, the sting of sharp fangs dragging over your lip as his tongue dips down into your mouth.

I love you.

The air tastes like frantic, screeching terror. And I love you.

Sliding your fingers into his hair, you press yourself as close to him as you can. The relief of reverting to your demonic form is wonderful, the illusion sliding off your skin like thick oil, and you couldn’t beat back your smile if you wanted to.

My darling, he whispers into your mind, just where he ought to be. A match made in heaven, wouldn’t you say?

As he says it, he gently brings you back upright, though he doesn’t let you go. Gleefully, you relax into his arms, looking around at the room full of horrified faces. A few of them have fainted, falling limp against the paralysis that keeps them in their seats - others try to struggle out of it, but to no avail.

Oh, definitely. You look down at the ring on your finger, watching the diamond sparkle in the light - now that you look more closely, you can see that the big one in the middle is surrounded with lots of little diamonds that sparkle in the light. It’s so, so beautiful.

He holds his hand out next to yours, and you can see him magically adjusting the size of his ring so that it fits him properly. It’s a good idea. You do the same with yours - while you’re at it, you also replace those awful shoes with something a bit more comfortable. There’s a notable jolt as they disappear and you suddenly get several inches shorter, but your feet definitely thank you for it.

Once your clothes fit you again, it feels much better. Indulgently, you rest your head on Vega’s shoulder and look around. Most of the humans seem to be in some stage of panic, but some are remarkably calm. Maybe it’s just that it hasn’t quite hit them yet.

Did you want that back, dear?

Vega points towards the bridesmaid who was standing behind you - oh, your bouquet! Gratefully, you tug it free of her frozen hands with a tendril of magic, and float it over to you.

It’s very pretty, but now that you think about it, perhaps this could be a little more to your taste. With a wave of your hand, all of the candles in the room flare, and Vega watches curiously as white roses turn to deep pink peonies.

That’s better, you declare happily. Now it’s special to us, instead of them.

He doesn’t say anything, just kisses your temple, but you know what he means. You can feel it.

A quiet sniffling sound catches your attention, and you glance over to see where it’s coming from. It’s the lady in the front row from earlier, the one who had the tissue. She must have dropped it when the magic reached her - her face streams with fearful tears, but she can’t bend down to reach the packet lying on the floor by her feet.

It makes you feel a bit bad for her, so you untangle yourself from Vega’s arms and walk over to her. Slowly, as not to startle her, you bend down and pick the little packet up.

Don’t worry, miss. I’ll be quick.

You take a tissue out of the plastic, and dab the tears from her face as gently you can. Her makeup is running a bit, but you try to salvage what little is left, and wipe away the streaks of mascara that run down her cheeks. Did you enjoy the ceremony?

For some reason, your efforts only seem to make her cry harder, chest stuttering and spasming as her body sobs as much as the magic will let it. Soon, your tissue is absolutely soaked through, and you have to dissolve it between your fingers.

Oh, miss. Please don’t cry - it’s okay…

You look back over at Vega, who’s currently inspecting the decorations on the altar, but he just shrugs. He doesn’t seem to know what to do either.

Here, I can make it - I’ll make it stop.

Carefully, you reach into her mind and pull. With a jolt, the crying suddenly stops, and her eyes glaze over as her memory fades - you fill the empty space of the last few hours with peaceful mist, and slowly guide her down into her chair.

Sleep well, miss.

She couldn’t reply, even if she wanted to. She’s already asleep.

Vega, should we…? You wave your hand at the sleeping lady, and then gesture to the rest of the room. It would be weird if she was the only one.

If that’s what you’d like, he says. Faintly, you feel a little flicker of disappointment that you haven’t gone with the other plan, but he hides it well. Come on, we’ll do it together.

(Look, it’s not that the other plan didn’t sound fun. It’s just that you’ve already done a murder today, and killing all these people seems a bit greedy. Plus, it would mean cleaning all the blood out of the chairs, and that’s really not a headache you need today.)

The haze of paralytic magic suddenly gets thicker, swirling through the room like heavy fog, and you pour as much magic as you can into it to get it to stick. Slowly, it dilutes into sleeping magic, and the humans all begin to slump back down into their chairs or onto the floor.

Do you want a specific memory? Vega takes your hand and leads you back up to the altar, so you can see the whole room. Or just a gap?

You deliberate for a second. Just a gap, I think. They should be able to come up with an explanation.

He nods. Then they’re all yours, dear.

There’s quite a lot of humans here, so you have to concentrate quite hard. Gradually, you help the fog to ease the memories of today out of their heads, replacing them with the same swirling mist that you gave the crying lady, and making sure none of them remember you or Vega were ever here.

Human minds are very resilient, and they love making up explanations for things they can’t explain. Once they realise the humans you replaced are gone, you’re sure they’ll come up with an acceptable story sooner or later. They’ll be fine.

Finished. With a sigh of relief, you step back and let the magic dissipate. Should we get going, then?

Your hand moves to start opening a rift, but Vega’s faster, catching your wrist before you can get there.

Mm… Not quite finished.

Somewhere else in the room, there’s a burst of magic - you watch in bewilderment as the organist wakes from her sleep, and dazedly pulls herself up onto her seat. What?

You’re forgetting something, love.

All around you, music starts to play - oh, it’s that song! The famous one! From the one you saw on the television, the one that he watched with you! Vega offers you his arm, and you have to wipe away the happy tears that seem to have appeared in your eyes all of a sudden.

Oh, Vega… The tears don’t go away, and you sob into his shirt as he holds you, long peony stems dangling loose between your fingers. You didn’t have to!

Of course I did, my darling, he laughs quietly, kissing the top of your head between your horns as his hand smooths comforting circles over your back. Of course I did.

He offers you his arm, and you take it with a teary smile. The lovely music echoes from the high ceiling as the organ sings, and you hum along in your head as you walk back down the aisle.

None of the humans are awake to see it, but it doesn’t matter - you materialise a playful burst of shiny confetti just over Vega’s head, giggling as it rains down over him and sticks in his hair.

You-!

He gives you a mock glare, and replies with a retaliatory burst of flower petals over your own head. Then another, then another, until you’re both laughing too hard to concentrate - behind you, the aisle is buried under a trail of confetti and flowers as you practically chase each other towards the doors.

Oh, I don’t think so - there!

You’re too slow to dodge his hand around your waist - he scoops up your squirming form like it’s nothing, dress and veil so long that they still brush along the floor as he carries you in his arms. Got you, little troublemaker.

You try to wriggle free, but he’s too strong - resigned to your fate, you just settle for throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a deep, happy kiss. Is that a promise, husband?

With all that I am, and all that I have, he dutifully recites, tail slipping beneath your dress and coiling possessively around your ankle. I won’t ever let you go.

It’s all you could ever want. Behind you, a room full of humans sleeps unaware, and the organist plays you out as Vega carries you carefully out into the churchyard. The sun is shining high in the sky, and your veil flutters behind you in the summer breeze.

So, darling, he asks over the music. Do you like it, then?

The happiest day of your life. Looking up at Vega, covered in confetti and laughing in the sunlight, you think you finally understand.

Yes, you say. I do.

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this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute.

[tobiasdrake]

The final battle to break the curse! Let's rescue and/or fuck up this guy!

(Alright, be cool. We might be able to handle this civilly. Talk him down. No need for violence. Just be chill and smooth.)

Sucks about your girlfriend.

(FUCK.)

Okay but, counterpoint: What if you didn't do that? What if, and I'm just spitballing here, we set fire to everything around us?

My guy, your message has been passed around more than a blunt at a rock concert. Part of that's on you; you never listed a mailing address and we've had a hell of a time tracking down your Return to Sender.

But I'll admit a little bit of fault on our part too. Everyone too busy playing Messenger; Nobody wanted to play Recipient.

With all due respect, I have permission to be here from who I'm pretty sure is the woman in that portrait. So. Y'know. Why don't you fucking leave? I don't recall her signing off on her property being used like this.

What I'm trying to say, asshole, is that this is a mail call. And the package is an eviction notice.

Oh wow. She was not kidding when she called you a powerful curse. But you won't fucking stop me! Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays this courier from the swift completion of his appointed rounds!

Come on, man. We all have to face the music sometime. It's over. You're not welcome in here anymore.

Go on, then! Keep shooting. You want Amazon shipping? Huh? You want privatized carriers taking over the industry? No? Then you should--

Respect your goddamn postal service!

Don't thank me, citizen. Thank the existence of public goods and services, funded by your tax dollars. Allowing the erosion of those services in pursuit of unsustainable privatization is the real curse.

And now the whole music box is shaking. That's not a good shaking is it? On a scale of 1 to "Why did I set the music box on fire again" how bad is this?

RIGHT BEHIND YOU

Not to be that guy but, uh, are we sure we want to count our chickens while we're standing on what looks suspiciously like a Boss Fight Podium?

Not the time, Artificer. Let the man catch his breath first.

Yeah, I've been wondering about your loop. You were living on Mesa Island before the flood even happened. How long did it take for you to get called as Messenger? I'm genuinely curious about how you got roped into all this.

Oh fuck. See? This is why I didn't want to count our chickens. The curse mask got away. This isn't over yet.

Sigma!? Is that you!?

And then let it all out at once when we break it out of confinement.

Well, if we're all fucked anyway then there's no reason not to go out swinging. Violence, everyone? Because I'm voting for violence.

What, the golem? I kicked its ass solo. Don't we have something better than that?

Is it more powerful with six of us?

Fuck it, I'm not hearing any better ideas. Let's do this.

IS THAT THE FUCKING ECLIPSE CANNON

Never mind, Artificer! I profusely apologize for ever doubting you! Fucking nothing stands up to the Eclipse Cannon. And, hey, you even made it mobile! So long, one weakness.

CHOKE ON MY RADIANCE, FUCKWORM

Sorry, I just. I always wanted to say it. This is the best day of my life.

The postal service always comes through.

Assclown.

What.

No, for real. What. What the actual fuck.

What am I even supposed to make of this.

What the fuck.

[neutrallyobsessed]

EPISODE 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY'RE BACK!!!!!

there in school again and Jesús hates it lol speaking of, everyone hates Joan~ lolol

AHHH THE BLEACHERS CREATURES NOTE!! Oh shit- its funnier than i expected heh, reminds me of Mikitaka honestly~~

Wait, so this guy isn't Malcom X? Then who tf is he? fr i didnt catch a word he said when he said his name..... I guess i'll be calling him Malcom X for the rest of this liveblog and when i finish ill check what his name really is lol, i really dont wanna spoil myself on this!

POINT! attention whore confucius my beloved~~, but let's see what this professor is all about...

Abe and JFK friendship! That sounds lovely and I sure don't care! But wish the best for them shippers! I'm also crossing my fingers! Teehee :3c

INTRO!! IT'S THE SAME AS BEFORE!! eh okay, kinda wanted it to change to reflect the current relationships but the only thing that should change is the parts with Joan, JFK and Abe so.... yeah its ok...

And Candide is the sole member of the board, yeah that makes sense lol, she also took vacation, haha "tanned"

GANDHI!!!!!! SXTREAM BLU!!! BEST DUDES 4EVER!!!! KNORK!!!! G-SPOT!!!!!! RAISINS!!!!!!! wait the retainers are actually Joan's...

THE EAR PIERCING!!!!!!!!!!!

they were right, they really are teasing our cocks with gandhi what the fuck

HE'S HERE!!

YEAH GIRL INTERRUPT THAT MUSICAL, NOBODY LIKES THAT SHIT HELL YEAH!!! and there are better people out there that can explain why Jackie is epic yoo

I just want more points jsksjksjksjsjsks

yeah "well funded" but............. oh cool a rocket! so it is true that theyll send them clone to space? :D

Wow Harriet being non-conformist by being conformist thats punk as hell man!

wait book burning? lmao- NOOOOO NOT THE FUCKING MAGNETS PRESENTATION AAAA BUT THE POINTSSSS NOW WE WILL NEVER KNOW HOW DO THEY WORK!!!!

oh but harriet/not malcom x apperantly? thats looking good so far ey

Hmm i still buy the theory that Exclamation! is in Nebraska

OH umm Mr B had a very smooth animation right there.....and yeah this whole scene is funny lolol glass ceiling

JFK being a jerk ass bully!!! Hell yeah!!!! :DDD

omg this is so funny cause like JUST THIS WEDNEDSDAY! JimmyHere did his ylyl vid of the week and in that vid he went to fact check about what happens if you eat a magnet! The answer being well yeah it wont kill you but ahahahha DONT DO IT MMMMM :))))

OH MOTHERFUCKER- QUE CONCHA DE SU MADRE JJAJAJJAJA me cae chistoso este profe, con que se la andara?

OYO THE TENSION! THAT YOUTUBE SOUND EFFECT!!

I LOVE IT!!!

HE'S BACK!!

I mean yeah, it makes sense that you choose a good color when you paint a wall, specially for vandalism purposes but ey look! a canon couple passed by when Joan and Topher were in close proximity to each other! that MUST mean something right?!

MOPED!! That's SO cool! they're going Downtown babey ;3 with- the massive helmet eheh WOAH THATS TIGHT ALRIGHTTT

BILL NYE THE SCIENCE LIEEEEE JSKSJSKJSKSSKSJKS ES EXCELENTE

NADA QUE VER BOLUDAAAA NDEAAAAHHHH JSKSJKJSKSJKJS

AH BUENO EYE SEX REAL issss is this something the big mouth writers put on? ahahahhahhhhhh i want a word with them-

but does your eye got a boyfriend? WELL YEAH..........

.........

... eye got a boyfriend :v

sooo y'all just spray paint a wall? hmm ok, expecting future mischief to be more lethal next time~~

Oh so she call the feds first? hehehehhe

OHIO MENTIONED! IT HURTS TO BE THIS HIP

OOOHHHH ACCUSATIONS OF AFFAIRS~~

i love intentional animation inconsistencies uwu

OH NO ITS NOT SUNDAY OR HOLIDAYS!!!!!!

funny pose, and she's default posing lol, its kinda like the t-pose of flash/vector/2D animaion ;v

and the idea of having the idiot clone killed by their own idiocy is brilliant! BUt... his moment is over! a self contained story, what will happen next~?

oh so the sachel bleeds huh..... yknow itd be a lot funnier if humans didnt bleed but inanimate objects did, a bit of absurdist humor~~

lol suspect

Yaayyy Joan is part of the group and has friends and one of them is Topher, super important :D!

Rating: an aight start ^^/10!

Topher Bus has appeared on screen for 1:23 minutes (I'm not counting recaps or the intro)

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

One Man’s Opinion on Retirement

Stephen Jay Morris

5/12/2024

©Scientific Morality

            Once again, I must remind you that every human being is different. However, one gender has trouble with retirement: male. Why? The male ego. Thanks to the constant haranguing by advocates of masculinity, some men think that retirement is a death sentence to their identities. It’s part of the male castration complex. Upon retirement, you lose the respect of people who now view you as a useless, babbling nobody. You are regarded as a child again. Some dudes must be forced into retirement because they refuse to go there. In a capitalist society, you are either a master or a slave. Capitalists (masters) never have to retire because they have enough money to allow them 10 lifetimes. Now, as a worker (slave) who retires, you can no longer make any capitalist rich. However, your body ultimately breaks down from arthritis and heart disease, and you can no longer function without physical discomfort.

            A lot of retirees do not have any savings or investment income, so they are dependent upon pensions and/or Social Security. As such, they are on fixed incomes. Plastic conservatives point their boney fingers at them and declare it was their fault: “You didn’t handle your money right! You spent it on capricious stuff like a sports car or a 500-dollar pair of sneakers. You should have invested your money or saved more!” So, like a good little flunkey, you feel guilty for having burdened rich, White guys to pay taxes to fund your Medicare or Social-Security benefits. Even when you lost your job during your working years and were eligible for unemployment benefits, you didn’t sign up because of feeling embarrassed over your plight.

            Some men go through the extremes of depression and then suicide. Others become hermits and withdraw from society. Why is this? Because we live in society that celebrates wealth and downplays the proletariat. Plus, old people are viewed as annoying and useless, like children.

I am glad I have a different attitude towards retirement.

I am a subject of Gerontology. I state my case here. After an anfractuous life and being yelled at by alarm clocks, I am here to state: I love retirement! The money sucks, but the freedom is priceless. Many seniors go to Las Vegas and sit in front of those one-armed bandits all day, hoping for a big payoff. As for me? I was never good at making money. Plus, I never cared for it. To me, money was something you needed to buy art supplies and chilidogs. I had a passion for the arts and other things, like musical instruments. You needed money to buy birthday presents or other gifts to show your friends that you valued their friendship. Well, not me. A lot of people I knew thought I was a cheap asshole. Maybe I was.

            Retirement to me is living in freedom. I sleep as long as I want. I don’t have anything scheduled. I can literally stop and smell the roses. The only notable difference in my activities is that I see medical doctors more. But nobody points at me and tells me to be a man! I couldn’t even if wanted to. It takes me two minutes to get up from my couch. I don’t have to prove anything to anybody. I can walk away from anything and not care. I am happily married and in love.

In this country (USA), nobody has respect for elders. We are just a nuisance. President Biden is one those men who refuses to quit, just like Donald Trump. The selfishness of these two men is astounding! Should one of them die of natural causes during their term in office, it would put the entire nation in political crises. But, do they care? Hell no! They’re dead!

As for me, I am still alive, and I can take a long lunch if I want to!  Retirement: plan for it and have fun year-round!

[vince-linder]

[WIP] Police Mayhem // 2010 AU, Police V

Its ages I started this kinda AU, first after meeting the Maxtac guys in the one sidequest. Afterwards I was just. Damn. I read too much lore about the police system and putted Vince into a pretty Police fit. Also thats what my brain wrote about it. Its a perma-wip, as I am just not feeling the idea behind it anymore. But why not post it anyway. Vince is here "Sergeant Smidt", my lil fucker. The rest should be clear ______________ "Sergeant Smidt, there's another 7-13, down at Martin Luther King Boulevard."

"That's not our problem, call Beat Patrol, or someone from Vice Department. But don't ever waste my time."

"No, no. Sergeant Lewis from Beat called for Assistance with this. Said to come especially to you, Sir. Heavy armed forces, many aggressive accomplices and a handful of..."

"Dirty punk rats?" Smidt let out a deep sigh.

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell the boys to delta in five. Its crushing time." crackling his neck and knuckles, he gets up and leaves his office. Another night, another dirty duty. But he would love to punch in some heads of cyberpsychos, not hunt down dirty rioters, just cause they always riot at corpo places. Priority one, his ass. These people were small fishes, far beyond his talent. But he knows exactly why he has to deal with this. Fuck this Black Mark he got as a Veteran, since then all dirty biz got his biz. Sure, he got, finally, promoted this year, but doesn't change a thing. And he knew for sure, if he wouldn't catch em promptly, it wouldn't take too long, until he would work on Beat Patrol. That was the last thing he ever wanted again. Hunting down every small criminal wasn't his working style.

On the way out, he starts calling his Lieutenant

"M'am, got another 7-13 with 23-245, seems to be the usual guys."

"Get 'em this time, Smidt! Every two or three weeks the same."

"They are fast, as rats are. But I'll get 'em this time. Smidt out."

Fumbling for his lighter for a moment until funding, he lits up a cig and takes a deep puff, deeply exhaling after. The AV lands just two feets before him, the doors shed open. His team was ready, as always.

"Ha, happy to see your beloved rioters again, Vince?", one of his colleagues jokes, as he got in.

"Always, Ted.", he smiles smally. "You know how I love to smash faces of dirty goons."

Both started laughing.

"Oh, for fucks sake, could you two for once be serious?", her feminine voice stood out, with a dark glace she looked at them.

"Chill, Kate." Vince smiled at her "Not as if this was a big thing for us, hu?"

"Not for us, no. But if you fail.", she looked him dead in the eye "All of us knew that the next mission would be without you. Am I right?"

"That's cold...", whispering from the side.

"No, no. She's right. So, s'ppose we start the briefing now. I want the three main rioters, these Samurai guys, alive. Break their bones, if you need to, but dont kill em. If any of em die, or escape, my last act in this position will be giving out black marks without charge.", a dark smile formed on his face, as he spoke out this soft threat.

"You... you dont mean that, Vince!", Ted looked at him with pure disgust.

"He means it, and you know it.", Kate putting on her helmet and the rest of the gear, getting finished. The rest of the team followed her lead.

Flight were silent for the rest of the time, nobody dared to say another word, one could just hear the rattle of the AV, and sometimes a small rustle if someone moved a bit.

Vince was fully in his mind. He know these fuckers far to well. God dammit, in his Beat time he even visited some of their concerts, listening to this heavy rock music, helped him to chill a bit. But in the last few years, these rats just dont stop. He watched the news. There were fires at corpo grounds four times last week. And it always were this samurai fuckers or their fans. But they are always ready to run, there are always some cars with running engines, some spontan gathering of more people, to protect their getaway. This time, they needed a better plan.

"Call Beat for me."

"Sure thing, serg'", it took only a moment "Connected with Veteran Officer Myer"

"Greets, Myer. Sergeant Vince Smidt, MaxTac, Badge 1077."

"MaxTac?! You one the way?", he could feel the shaking in his voice.

"Yes. But I need your help."

"Sure thing, Sir!"

"Listen carefully to me, Myer. I am not the person to repeat myself."

Five minutes later they arrived at the scene, even up from above one could hear the screams of panic and violence, a few gun shots here and there. But one thing overshadowed all other noise.

A sharp voice, echoing through the air. A well known voice, for Vince at least. It was truly one of the two lead vocalists of Samurai. At some moments one could also hear the second one, but not nearly as clearly. The AV stays in the air, a few hundred meters above the ground.

"Just jumping, or taking a rope today, Vinny?"

"Oh shut up.", he laughed for a short moment. "And besides, my ankles can take the jump.", he saluted, smiling, to his colleagues, and just jumped out. The others shook their heads in disbelief, and got their gear ready to jump off.

In the air, free falling, Vince did a few forward rolls, getting his 'wear ready for contact with the concrete at the bottom. In a moment, he would just land directly in front of the so-called rocker boy.

And there were the screams he enjoyed the most.

"MAXTAC! THE FUCKERS ARE HERE!", after that scream, Vince could feel the panic emerge in the group beyond him. And then he could feel it. A frown from a certain rocker. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He could see the dark grin, as the fucker flipped him off and started running.

"Not this time, fuckboy.", he landed with a crash on the concrete, the floor beneath him cracked, but he doesn't have time for that. Just after landing, he started his Sandevistan. He got thirty seconds before his brain would start frying. He has to get a trail of him. This fucker was the main rioter.

With a quick scan through the mass, he found him, and charged at him. Twenty seconds left. There he was. And he turned and looked at him, just for a split second. What? He shouldn't even be able to sense him! Not important. He tackled him, and back in real time.

"MAXTAC, surrender now!", he was on his back, kneeling at the spine.

"Get down off me fucker!", the rocker twisted beneath him, trying to get free.

"Not this time, Silverhand. Listen closely, I never repeat myself.", he got both hands of the other, and cuffs him.

"SHUT UP!", more twisting, so Vince gave him a slap against the back of his head.

"You have the right to shut the fuck up, call whoever you think would get you help, once we reach the police station, and rot in jail until you got free again. So never.", he smiled darkly. Finally he got him. And he could hear his team, and Beat getting control of the rest of them. Trying to get the rocker on his legs, he turned his head and spit Vince directly in the face, against his Aviator.

"You little dirty rat." Vince punched him directly at his kidneys, and the rocker twitched in pain.

Vince hate it when this little fuckers get disrespectful, so he grabbed the other at the hair, and pulled him up, to his face. "If you ever do something like this again, boy, I'll kill you. You know, most of us MaxTac Soldiers are Cyberpsychos."

"As if, asshole. Know you from Beat. Punched you in the guts back then.", he grinned widely.

"Dream on kid, never get punched on duty."

"But you are dumb like a scav."

"What did you say?!", he shouldnt even be talking to him. But whatever. He could feel Kate and Ted coming to him.

"Sergeant, we got the rest of his crew." Kate and Ted saluted, stopping behind him.

Vince could hear the muted screams of the second vocalist and the girl they have with them. Perfect. "The officers got hold of em."

"Great, and as I see, alive and loud as always."

"Yes sire. But we have another problem.", Ted nervously rubs his neck.

"What is it?", annoyed Vince let out a small sigh.

"Arasaka self wants em. But we cannot reach the Lieutenant, or even the Captain. The connection outside this district seems broken."

Vince could feel how the rocker in his hands started chuckling "Hearing em, Ker? Jammer is working!", he shouts in the direction of the other members.

"Bring the other two here to me.", his voice was ice cold. He could not risk another failure with this.

His officers, as always, were obedient and dragged the other two at his feet. With a small sigh he pushed Silverhand into Teds grip. "Stuff his damn mouth."

"Yes sir.", with a grin, and much screams from the rocker, Ted got him all shut up.

"So, 'Ker'", Vince grabbed the head of the second vocalist, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"Wazzup cop?", he grins widely. There was not a single bit of panic in the face or voice of the three. The girl and Silverhand just sat up, both smiling totally pleased. This could not be real. This fuckers, they were between six MaxTac Agents, and nothing?

"Bite your tongue, pig?", the girl spit out laughing.

"Tell me one thing, rats. Why aren't you afraid? All of you are cuffed, surrounded by MaxTac, positively these are your last moments in freedom, and you are laughing?"

"Yes sir, am crazy, cannot control myself. Hes drunk, and shes totally gonked out."

"Fuck off, you are gonked out!"

"Nah, Rogue, you've always been gonky."

One could hear Silverhand spit out the clothes his mouth was shut with, and he just laughs

"Both of you are crazy gonks."

"All of you shut up!" Vince demands, massaging his scalp. He needs answers, but they won't give it to him. Cause not. He's a Cop, they are thugs, nothing to work with. He just should punch em unconscious and wait for their 'Taxi'. But no, at least he wants to break them! If he cannot crush a thing.

Cannot be...

"~Tonight is the night that we run, the hunter becomes what he hunts~", 

Silverhand and 'Ker' just started singing. How much more mockery would he get this night? But somehow he was stunned? He stared at Silverhand, following his mouth forming the words, spitting out the dirty song.

"~The escape and the chase is now one, run!~"

All his alarm systems were screaming in his head, but he could not move a single muscle. Could not speak, but he felt the panic rising in him.

"Spiders here, kids.", Rogue smiles smally, standing up and grabbing the keys from Ted. Nononono. This could not be. Vince's inner voice screamed, he had to stop em! These dirty rats played for time, until their backing arrived! Goddammit, Silverhand even called him dumb, and was he right. They all got rid of the cuffs.

"Come on, Johnny, have to run.", Ker demands.

"Yeah, coming after.", he smiles widely "He Spider, knock em all off, besides the blue haired, would ya."

Vince could feel how the rocker got hold of his hands, bent them behind his back and cuffed him, kicking his knees, so he had to kneel down. "Yeah, wake him, could control it. Yeah, leave em offline."

"YOU little fucker!", Vince roared out, as his voice worked again. He tried to activate Sandevistan or his Blades, but nothing. He couldn't even move really!

"Ah, found your tongue again. Nice, nice.", Silverhand putting his hand beneath his chin, grabbing his fingers in the flesh and pushing his gaze up. "Hows the feeling of being absolutely helpless, Mister 'Im so important, look at me, Im Maxtac'?", he chuckled darkly.

"Shut the fuck up and tell me what you want."

"Not the best at flirting, ain't ya?"

"What do you want, Silverhand?" Vince was at the end of his tether. This was it, goodbye MaxTac, hello Beat Patrol! Now he would run after some little gonks again, for years.

"Delete our records.", his voice suddenly got grim. "Or protect us from 'saka."

"I cannot do one of these, and you know that!"

"Find a way, Cop.", he slapped his face hard with his mechanical hand, Vince could nearly feel unconsciousness coming around. Spitting out blood, he felt somewhat funny.

"All you got?"

"Want to fuck around with me, Mister?", Silverhand eyed him up. "Hope some more troops arrive in time, to catch me and rescue your little ass? Sorry, not today."

He kicked against his chest, moving him on his back. His legs just were not working.

Standing on top of him, the Rocker bent down to him and grins widely. The next punch hitted his nose, and got all his lights put out.

[anthonybialy]

Running Out of Character on Twitter

Elon Musk shows how perception changes without doing anything.  Now, that’s a timeline change.  The CEO of tweeting didn’t set out to teach that lesson, which sums up his legacy.  You’re free to tweet your thoughts about it, or X about it if you’re really into believing branding.

Prince’s name change caught on more naturally.  Malibu Stacy’s new hat hasn’t changed the product.  The only difference beside the ‘90s-style sobriquet for the site I bet even Elon privately calls Twitter is how few erstwhile users have stuck around to see the aftermath.

Elbow room isn’t necessarily a virtue.  Holdout diehards enjoy impression rates that rival what used to be retweet counts.  It’s much easier to keep up with one’s feed now in the same sense there aren’t long lines in North Korean fast food restaurants. 

One of the richest humans ever presently toils as caretaker of a yip-yap app.  Tweeters voluntarily fritter away their precious hours on this plane of existence rattling off a queue of grievances.  All he needs to do is enable personal publishing of bitching.

Overseeing arguing about reality television is far more respectable than his previous career as a welfare queen.  Private spending is a nice change of pace from someone with an established pattern of pimping projects that get involuntary investors.  Taxpayer funding is ideal for someone who’s about 85 percent shyster.

Big ideas that don’t translate are perfect for the Twitter owner.  The difference between most people with unworkable thoughts is finding funding.

Seducing investors of funds seized from others allowed him to buy a time-wasting app that many use for journalism.  That doesn’t mean actual journalists, who resent social media for showing how easy the job is.  Amateur sleuths can and do fact-check every claim, including those by allegedly professional fact-checkers.  Granting themselves the title doesn’t make it true, so that’s another one to verify easily.

History started this morning, which is why so many forget that he has a long history as a plug-in car-pimping liberal superhero.  You may recognize Obama’s erstwhile BFF as the guy who got a rather giant loan from the Energy Department, which means taxpayers since liberals are confused about where money comes from.  That’s surely the only science that flummoxes them.

Former admirers loathe him because he believes in open forums, if not open markets.  The aforementioned name X will never spread like brokenness connected to all-time scam Buffalo Billions.  Vacancy in every sense increased after East German throwback New York threw money at the problem of companies refusing to do business in a people’s republic.

Consistent financial ruin following fantastic political promises should be a sign for everyone who thinks prosperity is just 10 figures taken from the economy away.  Investment takes the form of seizing funds to spend on monorails.

Aside from results, results were good.  Why did nobody think to spend money before?  The trifling bit about how life doesn’t turn out like all-time serial killer Andrew Cuomo promised doesn’t deter voters in certain decrepit states.  Acting like futuristic manufacturing was destined to happen embodies Democratic scheming in a nutshell.  The solution to government spending not helping was more government spending.  That’ll be the next step, too.  Keep wondering why there are so many Bills fans in Florida.

The only consolation is lack of surprise.  Turning on their dreamboats is part of believing in cult leaders instead of sound ideologies.  Betrayed liberals throw out their New Kids on the Block dolls.  Their taste outside of music is similarly sophisticated.  The lates is the most predictable.  Nobody else is surprised by despising anyone who allows dissent.  The Democratic platform features scientific truth, which means opposing it destroys reality.  Luckily for the most malicious, there’s a place where they can post without fear of getting kicked off for sharing their true emotions.

Waiting for algorithm mending is like anticipating good tweets from AOC.  The site not fixing itself as a sign of self-awareness is good news, but it’d still be nice if some human wouldn’t mess up search results.  Seeing content from followed accounts in chronological order is apparently as unreasonable a request as obtaining eggs during Joe Biden’s presidency.  The lack of meddling inherent in an open forum is intolerable for someone smarter than you.  Some parts of Twitter haven’t changed.

You can be your own editor.  At least, you once could.  The couple months between Twitter’s founding and its overlords realizing how much they enjoyed meddling were a fun freewheeling time like when new cable networks show whatever random wonderful programming they can find.  I miss Rawhide on FX.

Please accept things you don’t want in lieu of fixing what you requested.  This is one less-than-super superintendent.  Blocking the option to block would be like like Ronald McDonald announcing you shouldn’t order McNuggets.  Denying dastards the option to see your awesome tweets is a satisfying final sendoff.  Personally curating one’s feed is part of that whole free speech thing.  Shadow-banning remaining is one lousy consolation prize.

Messing up verification embodies big ideas going nowhere.  Sitting at the top of the Twitter caste was one of the ways the site got things correct, as it meant users could be sure the prominent name they saw was not an impostor.  Now, it means giving one of the wealthiest people ever eight bucks per month as if seeing ads weren’t enough of a cost.  One might not think a little blue checkmark could be even less of a status symbol.  One might be wrong.

Ideas on how to fix the wrong things fit a little too perfectly.  All Elon has to do is undo lame woke meddling.  Like coaching the Dream Team, you just roll out the ball.  Instead in reality, warping Twitter alienates both anyone who hates anyone daring to hint at the existence of natural rights and right-leaning people who just want to see tweets from who they choose.  That’s everyone.  Let’s just get back to welcoming all while blocking the annoying.

[athomewiththecicadas]

Life as a Senior NCO for a Head of Household that can't Provide

"When I reported the Fed funds rate/circulation at Fort Knox in 1998, he "said": 'that's an Iraq default and threw his technology at you." (Electronic surveillance modernization act.)

And to reiterate his campaign intent, the 2020 market crash. (-$20 oil)"

And so, it's Pensacola Florida, and I'm over it.

Sergeant Major Nathan Marksmith, North Wales Militia/ Joint Militia Detachment

Americano with cinnamon, I let her out...

"We didn't use the word...." I like that.

----------

Maybe it's what Jerome Powell was talking about....

What do you say we see it's him? Let's see it's him...

------

--------

-----

Well, if it's just that the FCC wants to sit around and dick it out, I don't see too many of his deputies volunteering to stand around, or even his psychologists, so that pretty much sets the government straight on jurisdiction.

Some times he just does what he's told to do, cause he's always had the luxury of consistent hiring.

Tell him to come talk to me about his retirement planning. I'll be happy to get him someone who can actually help.

--------

They don't care what's wrong with Ukraine-Russia. In fact, I think it's coersive-subversive that they all secretly like it.

So, I'm a mercenary, what do you expect me to do, the price is set that they like it. And it pays damn good.

Look, I know they can't with Syria, and even WWII. But then some guy invented 9/11. And so, it was really our "dad's" idea, and his daughter's sex was his idea to begin with. We're not that interested in her sex.... A lot...

Now, that's a default. But man, that's his retirement. The government has they'll just hire it out of here......

......Your problem is that, with all the death threats, it's not even "your" Intellectual Property..... But your intellectual property is defaulting your retirement? And nobody sees Ukraine-Russia is a problem?

We should be much more appreciative in food stamps and public housing. It offers a chance to get our acts together. And in the meantime, governments should appreciate their tax revenues are much more sound than their opinions.

If you need some more work, there's dog piles in the deed-birth certificate-full dress uniform department.

------

And sometimes it's just time to quit. No, I don't listen to music. I'm not interested in the spin you around, never had it before, "let me get this in there anyway."

I've been through the studios, and between psychology (1342) 3:00 mile, and supercharged respiratory, it isn't recreational drugs either. Your body is running so perfect on that every day erythritol buzz, and if anyone even touches it, I'de punch him. Nobody has it, and that crap never will.

So, yeah. I've listened to Creed before.

[the-firebird69]

There are several things happening when he was trying to ride out here and he did it's always kind of dicey it wasn't that bad this time it says few people pulling some funny things. Tell some guy what was going on at the Dollar general like 4 months 5 months ago he's trying to say hi and he said don't bother you what's going on and nobody gives a s*** so we figured it out you're writing a scooter for no reason cutting yourself down for no reason losing all your stuff for no reason except a hokey act it's not going to hold water instead of yelling he started yelling the guy did just now running fire f****** minds running around doing this routine for one guy is not even paying attention anymore this afternoon his own thing regardless doesn't care about our events doesn't give a s*** about Tommy f knows what he's up to this is really bad he said went off to his own thing it's another accident it's an asinine routine and really that lady is an outlandish moron almost fell into him it's for Christ's sake you don't have to say hi if you don't want to. Jesus out there with no sale I mean this is what these weirdos are like. Longer than they should it's like Sunday and everyone's trying to do the taste of punta Gorda freaking crank in the music these people toast. You got to get corky up there dancing with the music so f****** loud. You guys like all right so he's going to show up there's a little team they get like 20 bucks or something so he's trying to get him some money so what are you doing here because I'm trying to get you into Garth he's trying to get him some money so they're doing this ridiculous stuff too is it trying to make fun of these morons of this crappy act to be old retired s*** heads. So there was a huge group trying to get here this massive and that group is gone. Aren't any other groups doing it like that there's one up north with hardware that group of North is gone too and pretty soon these warlock will be out and Christ sake with a bunch of wankers and finally holy s*** the speakers are facing the other way can't even hear anything. But really the group is gone up north and the hardware is gone it went a few ways and the morlock lost again and they're trying to regroup and they're not having much success. And there's a lot of stuff happening there's a few groups here there's a lot of people downtown now and there is an event that it is taste of punta Gorda and they have restaurants with samples we have to pay a bunch of money to get in then you have to pay each vendor it's kind of a waste of time to do it that way but they give people used to pay money I guess. We have a whole bunch of stuff in store for them coming up today and tomorrow for their entertaining behavior first off we're taking over the banks and we expect trouble and we're making trouble on purpose and we are taking over large ones but tomorrow we sign several Banks as we mentioned before we picked up a couple and first we're going to sign over

*wachovia Bank and trust and it's a Canadian concern and Canada is almost closed out but we are going to keep it alive to a degree a couple of cities as a matter of fact just in case her son has to go there temporarily and drag a shitload of you idiots up that way we like to do but it's important because wachovia was his dad's bank and in it was suspension fund and Paul can just put the money in there and he knew it was in there and they were taking a stipend from it once a month that's $700 and that would help our son out he could get some knick knacks and some odd things and cable TV this phone wouldn't suck and the idiots were trying tag onto the cable you can't really they try and use the code and it won't work and then I'll try and take the phone and it won't work but that's the idea it's for him to have some extra things in furniture right now I can't afford it and his dad would have gone for him if he could have and some people think he's in tune and some people think that the idiots are idiots and some things the idiots are stupid and tell me if went after them very hard after that

*TD Bank it's also a Canadian concern and Ernie had his money in there too and d and our son is to inherit that money and it's his not yours and any of yours you know after it cuz a bunch of weirdos it's only way to implicate yourself and homicide then you get killed cuz everyone wanted the stuff they have just learned at the hard way doesn't like any of you now said you're a bunch of sacrilegious cows it's absolutely true. You left the laundromat with a tear in his eye and our son said listen to my son Jesus is what my dad would say he left his head is forgiven me and he says don't go and do that crap that's what it is. So now there's some things in this particular bank that our son would be interesting. He put a trust fund in there for his son Chris and it's like now $2 million dollars and it's not to be spent over once and to be doled out by the bank and it says it in the will didn't like and Ronald stole and they did not rewrite the will and they knew that we crushed them to get it from them then Mike is the one holding it not Ron Ron what if he could but will probably figure out it's worth nothing but a headache cuz that's what it's worth probably foreigners and he kind of knows that stuff so sitting around waiting for something to happen other than this b******* and her son says that would be us and that boat beyond the cigarette one so it's not even looking cuz he knows the joke he says yeah but you got to look baby I don't know that's funny or something so he knows all about it what he's saying it's not going to be like today cigarette though but it'll be like a nice fishing boat and they go out and catch actual fish have an actual barbecue these people at it and his friends from before and knew his mom and dad and they can talk about him and I don't like what happened it's a nightmare they said most these people are nightmare. Does Grandpa's going to try and get it to him cuz he knows that he's gone needs the money in case he has to do things smooth and so forth and they might do it in America just to get him out there keep the banks around and stupid crap that did with China and he'd be rich but he wouldn't have much money a month again between the two would be like $1,700 but he could actually make money on the side if you decide jobs and stuff without losing the income and he probably sits on social security too but he didn't sit on on social security and have that additional and it's still not a ton of money compared to what he should have it's only about $40,000 a year which is not much money for someone's age you need about 80,000 and if you have a family need more it's tough times but really you would have to stretch a dollar if it was his people out there it's a lot of poor people you're looking forward to the inexpensive products at work. And we need to get it to them and kits and drawings and he wants to make a book. Have several manuals for it and a lot of people do too how to live cheaply and stuff like that I might put out the dummies serious again how to live cheaply is one of them furniture on dollar stuff like that that's what we can do it's a way to do it and it helps people and it shows people care. BG is into it and he says we're not alone out here there's other people are realistic and he's having a problem and he overcomes it it smacks even though he's a huge problem so they're thinking about it like you might be the bigger problem now and kind of probably is I guess that's horrible but that's the other bank and it's a decent sized Bank I got a lot of clients they do a lot of business they have branches just like wachovia all over the world and the east coast is like a stronghold of theirs and it's probably become a bank from New York pretty soon it probably transfer it there and something we would do more in a couple

Thor Freya

This is good news so I ended on this note we know we had that stuff going we knew what he was thinking and we're going to have to help him out with the math these people are mean as hell and he knows all about it there's a point where you said I know about it and what does it mean it means you a deflecting them and he knows it and you said it too if that any life is a great

Hera

Going to this and what it means but we're going to help out right now

Olympus

[earhartsease]

a guy called Wayne Oclerman in the fb linguistics shitposting group we posted about this in sent us this that he wrote about the brezhoneg situation in france vs the other southern languages, and it's really interesting (and both depressing and hopeful)

There are a number of reasons that Breton has developed some prestige in recent years and it's in large part due to socio-political factors. Some of it is from the cultural revolution in music in the 1970s. Part of it is also from a number of social conflicts that had a specifically Breton character like the strike at Joint Français, the anti-nuclear protests at Plogoff, the success of the reunification movement (a majority of Bretons and people in Loire Atlantique are for reunification), etc. What all of this did was allow Bretons to have a Breton identity separate from the far right. The majority of Bretons (according to a 2018 poll by TMO Régions) identify as both French and Breton.

Jacobin philosophy views regional languages as a way to close the people in question off from the world but Bretons, for the most part, view it as a way to be more open to the world. They want to share it with the world. It's gotten a lot of prestige among people who view things that way. There are a surprising number of immigrants who embrace Breton. I used to teach in a Breton language kindergarten and I had 6 foreign kids in my class of 21. I usually asked the parents, as I'm a foreigner as well, why they were interested. All but one family said that if their child spoke Breton nobody could say they didn't belong in Brittany. The other family declined to answer, which is of course fine. 34% of people say they'd like to learn it and 33% say they'd like their children to learn it. The issues are that it's difficult for more adults to learn as they have busy lives to live. With the Diwan schools it can be hard to get a seat as the supply of teachers is limited, not just by candidates but by positions that the state creates. They do pay those salaries, as they do in the Occitania in the Calendreta schools but they only give a couple a year. The organizations like Calendreta and Diwan have to pay the salaries of the others themselves. They're funded by small contributions from local government entities but mostly by donations and fundraising. So the number of slots are limited.

Don't get me wrong though, the state still would very much like to culturally genocide the Bretons and have tried very hard. 72% of Breton speakers are of retirement age, so in 10 years the estimated 200k speakers will reduce significantly. Calendreta is putting heroic work in down south, I have friends who teach there. They currently have 4,000 kids in Calendreta schools but Occitania was hit earlier and harder with French genocidal policies as it was considered a more desirable target for colonization. I agree with you 100% that there should be songs in the langues d'oc and other regional languages, I just wanted to express why Breton has some degree of prestige and that it's still very much under attack by the French government. There is a lot of hope for Occitan though, looking at a 2020 poll done. 92% want the language to survive and 80% favor government action to do so. 15% of children speak Occitan. I think a Eurvision appearance would do a lot of good in helping to give Occitan the kind of cachet Breton has outside of Brittany outside of Occitania.

Here's the Breton poll I was referencing

and the Occitan one

also thanks to @no-passaran for telling us about Liet International, an already existing festival to showcase bands singing in endangered languages that could use some Eurovision sized funding

we were chatting about Eurovision with @lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers just now and the whole "quashing the diversity of national/regional languages" thing, like how France made such a big deal out of having a song in brezhoneg last year but you'd have to hold them at gunpoint to get songs in the languages they're more actively trying to kill, such as the langues d'oc (occitan, provençal and so on) and basque

anyway we think there should be an alternative non-competitive extravaganza to showcase the endangered languages and we could call it:

Eurovision II: Eclectic Boogaloo

oh and it goes without saying that it should be as queer and camp as fucking possible

[miam0re]

💋Single Dad Xiao | A Beautiful Beginning



Warning: Alcohol?(I didn't mention this in the zhongli one but I think I should), mention of traumatic past, (SFW)

Pairing: Single Dad!Xiao X Fem!Reader

Mia's Notes: Damn okay the second single dad write up oh lord. This is quite exhausting I have to admit, might take a break from such stuff for a while. This write up felt slightly mess and it is not proof read because fucking 8,738 words was enough the first time. Well happy reading!! Reblogs are appreciated! Love you guys~~

WC: 8.7k

Xiao has always been the type of person to keep to himself, he’s been like that ever since he was a child. You could call him an introvert.

As a child, he used to spend his time drawing while listening to classical music, the soothing sounds of violins and pianos filling up a void in his aching heart. Why did he feel this way, nobody really knew and honestly, nobody really tried to understand. Such was the cold and cruel world out there.

Everyone around him praised his works, saying that he was able to capture in paint strokes what people couldn’t convey with words. He’d always tsk and internally curse them for their fakeness. They could never understand the depth behind each colour on the canvas.

In his youth, Xiao had a terrible fate, someone blackmailed him and used his weaknesses to make him do unimaginable deeds, deeds that haunted his nights for years to come. Blood stained his hands as he walked to his apartment like a zombie crawling in the night, not looking forward to the next day, for it would be just the same as the last.

The only reason he is the successful person he is today is the kindness a certain man had shown him. This person was Zhongli, Xiao’s godfather.

Zhongli was able to pull him out of his terrible life, putting a restraining order on the one who had almost ruined the young male’s life. Trail awaited and soon he would be put in jail, Xiao leaving the court a free man with a clean record.

With Zhongli’s kindness and support, Xiao was able to graduate college with a degree in fine art and painting.

Xiao found his calling in being a tattoo artist, well, with the help of zhongli, creating his own chain of tattoo parlours. A real entrepreneur hid under the cold exterior he always put up as he was able to start from scratch with basic funds from zhongli.

He started with a small store in the corner of a shopping complex. Xiao, his best friend and classmate, Aether and his sister, Lumine, the three worked together and soon enough word spread of the handsome dark haired male with the hand of Leonardo Da Vinci.

Xiao had a tattoo of his own, a green phoenix on his right arm, a symbol of rebirth since he woke from his ashes and now shined brighter than ever. The only thing was, he wasn’t very comfortable with showing his tattoo.

Whenever he was manning his main parlour, he would make sure to put on a jacket before a client appeared, lest they asked to get a tattoo similar to his. He wasn’t ready to let just anyone have a symbol of great significance stamped on their body forever without comprehending the meaning of it.

Speaking of interacting with his clients, talks were minimal to none, words ranging from instructions to move in a better position or just a grunt to their questions about how his day was.

Many a times men and women walked in with no intentions of getting a tattoo, all they wanted was to see the rumoured gorgeous male with their own eyes, gawking at how handsome he looked.

His hair, layered locks of black with teal highlights that fell over his feline amber eyes, wow. The way he dressed with his baggy sweatshirts hid the well built body underneath, unless he was to tattoo a client. Then he would sport purple sweatpants, a white tank top and green jacket, a signature outfit of sorts.

If you ever saw him without his jacket, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, you’d see his muscles flex in the red lighting of the studio. The ripples his body created with every stretch of his had people drooling on the bench.

When you’d look at him, you’d find it hard to believe that at home he had a 3 year old girl whom he called his daughter. A man of his…demeanour… being a father? You’d have to see it to believe it.

As a father, Xiao tries his best to be there for Qiqi. But he also tries to keep his distance from the toddler. The actions of his past still haunt him and make him believe that he isn’t worthy of having such an innocent, fragile being to call his own.

He loves Qiqi with every ounce of himself, he loved being with his daughter. At night they would sleep in the same bed because of Xiao’s fears that something would happen to her when he’s asleep. Her small fingers wrapping around his pinky as she hugged her goat plushie calmed his soul and gave him the soundest sleep he’s ever had.

He feels that he’ll be a terrible influence on the little girl and usually requests either Zhongli or Lumine to care for her when he’s at work. Work was important because it helped him provide Qiqi with the best and most comfortable life he could offer. It’s all he ever wants for his daughter, to make sure she’s always happy and never reaches a point in life when she has to resort to the measures he did.

Usually days would go like; Xiao would wake up and help Qiqi get ready for daycare. He smiles at her while pushing her tiny hands through the sleeves of her sweater and helping her with her bag. He’d hold her hand while walking down the street and those mornings are the only times he feels like he has a somewhat normal life.

When he sees the bright red and yellow gate of her daycare, he kneels to her eye level and holds her hand, giving her a pep talk like he does every day.

“Have a great day Nana. Remember to be nice to everyone and if someone is mean to you, you tell your teacher. Auntie Lumine will pick you up today and take you to her house, okay?”

“Papa, when will you come home?” Her voice was so small, it broke his heart seeing that hopeful sparkle in her eyes.

“Papa will be a bit late tonight Qiqi. But I promise, I will be there for dinner, and we will cuddle and sleep okay? Just you, me and your cocogoat!” Xiao let go of all his worries for a moment and beamed at Qiqi, pulling her into his chest for a hug.

“I love you so much Nana.” He would kiss her head before ushering her into the grounds, seeing her run to catch up with her friends.

A sigh and a shattered glance later, he was walking to work, hands stuffed in his pockets.

That day, that fateful day, it started like any other. He sat in his office and signed through property paper, finalising the deal of getting another store in another part of the city. His business was ever expanding and he had to start with interviews for new tattoo artists the week to come.

Seeing pages with thousands of words and no beauty or art… it bothered him. A part of his was screaming at him to push himself out of his seat and go tattoo some people.

And he did, unknown to him, that’s the day his life would do a 180 and the rusted gears of his dead heart would turn, slowly but surely.

“Any clients?” Xiao walked out of his office towards Aether, who sat with Lumine, looking through a few records. “Yeah, I have one but that’s a completion job. Why don’t you take a walk-in?” Aether smirked, knowing what buttons to push.

Xiao rolled his eyes, the sound of the bell ringing signalled that a walk-in just came. He absolutely detested walk-ins. Some of them used to be quite stupid, walking into a tattoo parlour without knowing about the T of tattoos. Their obliviousness irritated him to no ends.

He shot a glare at Aether,”You jinxed it.” And all he got was a laugh in return before he put on his jacket dragged himself to greet his temporary headache.

“I’m not sure about this-“

“Oh Y/N, stop being a baby! You’re a grown woman now, it’s time to got a sexy tattoo. You know you’d totally rock one!”

Xiao heard a really loud person and a more timid voice coming from the reception. He sighed and walked out, straining a smile at the two people.

Only, upon seeing you, his smile fell numb as his jaw hung open, the sight of you making his heart beat faster. You were nervously fidgeting near the door, still not convinced about getting your skin inked. Your quivering smile, blushing cheeks and darting eyes, all of you was just so…beautiful.

“I’m not sure what I want. It’s a pretty big decision and I don’t want to mess up.” You murmured, laughing nervously at you friend. ‘Wise thoughts, though common sense.’ Xiao thought to himself, trying to shake off his initial surprise at seeing you.

“Ah just get anything. Getting a tattoo is a memory in itself.” You friend patted your back, and Xiao started judging your choice in friends, since this one clearly didn’t have any basic thinking capacity.

Deciding that he could no longer tolerate the sound of your friend’s stupid voice, he walked closer to the two of you. “Hi, welcome to Adeptal Ink. How may I help you?” The feel of your eyes travelling to him had his stomach churning in a nice way? He didn’t know how to describe that feeling, but whatever it was, he was not used to it. Though he wouldn’t mind more of that tummy tickling feeling of your eyes on him.

“My friend here wants to get a tattoo. I hope you can help her out.” Your friend winked at you and leaned to whisper in your ear, words audible to the owner of the store. “Aye lucky you, Mr.Xiao is going to tattoo you himself! Go get some girl!” The shrill of that voice made Xiao shiver.

“Follow me.” Was all he said as he guided you down the red lit halls. He was trying hard to maintain his cool, unbothered self, but when he peeked at your anxious being behind him, a part of him felt a little soft for you. He mentally kicked himself. He barely knew you and was already thinking about you way more that necessary. How professional.

He opened the door of one of the rooms and welcomed you in, gesturing for you to sit on the tattoo bench. You bowed in thanks and awkwardly sat on the edge of the leathery seat. Xiao pulled up his chair right in front of you and picked up his sketch book and pen, looking at you through unconcerned eyes. “Do you have any designs in mind? A basic idea of what you want and where?”

You gulped and laughed dryly “Ah you see, I don’t even know if I want a tattoo right now. My friend just dragged me here and I was completely helpless. Do you think you could maybe help me with an excuse or something?” Xiao raised his eyebrow at you. Out of all the people who came to not get a tattoo, you were the first to show no signs of interest in him. A pleasant change, he thought. “Alright then. What do you want me to do?” Xiao sighed, keeping the objects down on the table.

“I don’t know? If she asks, we’ll just say something like we discussed some designs but you thought that my skin wasn’t clean enough and you suggested that I come back after taking a proper bath?” You suggested.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He looked at you in irritation. But you weren’t intimidated, you had bigger problems. “Well then can you help me with an excuse, since you’re the professional here?” You practically begged.

His eyebrow was still cocked at you like you had gone cuckoo, but seeing your puppy dog eyes, he felt weak and sighed in defeat. “I supposed I can come up with some story.” That’s all he said.

Silence loomed all over. Common sense said that you’d be sitting in the room with him for a while longer, so as to sell the story better, but the sound of imaginary crickets chirping in the background really wasn’t helping.

“Hey you don’t mind if I borrow your sketchbook right?” You asked out of the blue, breaking the silence. Okay, he may have thought you were cute initially but you were getting on his nerves like any other human did. Of course out of politeness he handed you the spiral bound book wordlessly.

“May I draw a bit, if you’re fine with that?” You continue your request, sheepishly looking at the pen. “Um yeah sure.” He leaned over and handed it to you. The brush of your fingers over his sent heat flooding through him.

His feelings for you were really hot and cold at that moment. When he looked at you scribbling on the last page of the book, he thought you looked quite adorable, tongue poking out between your lips as your face scrunched up in concentration. He leaned over to get a better look at what he thought would be a childish doodle, but was awestruck for a second when he saw what you had made.

On the paper in black ink you drew a butterfly using polygons, wings and body made of straight lined shapes, with no curves anywhere. The lines you drew were sharp and precise, as if you had the hand of a skilled artist. Xiao had to admit, he was impressed. But he wouldn’t admit that out loud, obviously.

“A butterfly, typical.” He commented, sounding more bitter than usual. You bark out a laugh and then stop yourself, looking in his eyes with your sweet gaze. “Yeah, you must have seen a lot of people get butterfly tattoos. But this, this one is special.” You ran your fingers over the sharp lines.

“Right, that’s what they all say. Butterflies for freedom. Everyone is the same.” He made his point, expecting you to back down under his intimidation.

“Ah but that’s not it. Butterflies aren’t for freedom. Birds are. Butterflies…for me they mean growth. Transformation. Isn’t that where the beauty of a butterfly lies? In the way it transforms into the winged creature we all adore?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

His eyes widened.

“And these straight lines that make up its wings. Beauty in danger. How even though the butterfly has sharp wings that can prick you, it’s so alluring that you can’t help find it beautiful. How sometimes there’s pain even in the most fragile of moments.” You sighed.

Screw every negative thought he had about you in the past half an hour. He was falling in love with the way you think.

“If I ever plan on getting a tattoo, I would definitely want this.” You close the sketchbook and hand it back to Xiao, his stunned figure somehow moving on its own to keep the book aside.

“That’s…the most unique interpretation I’ve seen in a while. A really long while.” Pushing down his pride, Xiao muttered out, not expecting you to respond.

“Oh yeah? What’s the most common, cliched tattoo you’ve had to make?” You ask playfully, drawing out a scoffed laugh from him. “Don’t get me started on the number of roses I’ve made during my career. I think I’ve made enough to start a tattoo flower stall of my own.”

You laughed at his unintentional joke. Whatever tension that existed in the room slowly diminished until the aura turned chill and comfortable. The two of you talk back and forth about the craziest tattoo you’ve ever seen; barcodes, memes, cartoon characters and such came up in your conversation multiple times.

Xiao…felt at ease around you. Like you were the serene sound of a bamboo flute which overpowered all the cries and screams around him, and he was dancing…dancing to your melody with nothing but purity in his heart.

“I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Y/N. I’m a live painter.” You extend your hand waiting for him to shake it. When his palm found yours, he was surprised. Your hand felt so smooth, he wouldn’t have guessed that you had the fingers of a painter.

“And uh… I’m Xiao, but I guess you already knew that?” He replied awkwardly. You giggled, hand still in his and shot him a smile. “Hi Xiao.”

Yep. Something about you broke the chains that he’d wrapped around his heart, exposing it to the brightness outside, your brightness. He felt a smile tug at his lips, and for once, he didn’t stop himself from grinning.

“I think we’ve spent enough time here. Better go out and tell my friend our lovely excuse!” You chirp and stand up, gathering you purse in you hand. Xiao felt a pang in his chest at having to see you go, but maybe…

The two of you chatted while walking out until the streetlights shining through the large windows of the reception came into view, along with your dear friend waiting for you, eager to see your tattoo.

Walking to you, your friend’s eyes scanned you, finding an inked patch or something, “Dude, where’s your tattoo? How’d it happen so quick?”

“She showed allergic reactions to the ink sample before we started the process so we had to stop.” Xiao interjected, knowing that you had no idea what sort of excuse to come up with. The way he reverted to his stoic self when talking to the third person, he realised that he was being so carefree and soft around you. And…he liked it.

Before any more comments could be made, Xiao turned to you, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gaze, even though the rest of his face was as emotionless as ever. “If you’d like, we could reschedule your appointment for Sunday. I can prepare another set of inks for you and we can go over your design once again.” He was hoping you could catch upon his true intentions; he just wanted to meet you again. No, not like a date, at least not yet. He just liked being around you and wanted to feel that light sensation again.

Your face reddened and you nodded, “Sure. We can coordinate through text…Uhh.” You suggested, trailing off since you didn’t have his number. “Here, let me give you my number.” He held his hand out for you to pull out your phone and give it to him. Tapping on the screen, he entered his number and input his name, handing the device back to you once done.

“Well then, we’ll be leaving now. Thank you for your time Mr.Xiao.” Your friend grabbed your hand and dragged you out, giving you the freedom to only send Xiao a quick wave as the store door jingled after your departure.

And once that pounding of his heart came to a rest, he went on to do his tasks.

Only, his heart started drumming in his chest once again when he flipped open his sketchbook to see your butterfly. Mawkish Beauty; he decided to name that design. A design reserved for only you.

“So Xiao huh? He’s a good catch.” Your friend commented as you walked down the block to your shared apartment. You laugh and punch them in the shoulder. “What! There’s nothing going on! I swear!”

“Okay then explain this: why did he offer you an appointment on a Sunday when that’s the day the parlour is closed? And what about the phone number he offered hmmm? Why did he save that number as Xiao personal hmmm?” The words were teasing beyond measure and you hid your blushing face in your hands, unable to come up with a good response.

So shy, so sweet. So perfect for Xiao.

Sundays were the days when Xiao would take Qiqi to the tattoo salon in the morning and then they’d go spend the afternoon together, doing whatever they wanted, go out for a movie or to an amusement park, anywhere.

Sundays were the days Qiqi looked forward to the most, because on sundays Xiao used to give his full attention to her, even if it was just a day. Just her and her father. So you’d understand her surprise when the bell jingled and in walked in you, interrupting their drawing session.

“Oh, hi!” You looked between Xiao and the little girl sitting on the waiting couches, the two of them doodling on sheets, most of them strewn across the room. Xiao looked at you in alarm, only just remembering that he’d called you to meet him on Sunday.

“Oh shit.” He whispered under his breath, hoping Qiqi didn’t hear him.

You giggle, “I’m assuming you forgot that you called me. Rain check?” You put forward, feet turning to walk out of the door. Xiao stood up, getting ready to stop you when his ringtone buzzed through the room. He pulled his phone to check the caller ID, and upon seeing it’s importance, he quickly requested you to sit and wait for him.

After he disappeared in the backroom, you looked at the little girl and she looked at you, tilting her head curiously. “Are you papa’s friend?” She inquired.

Papa- “Yes, I am. I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” You approached the couch, carefully sitting down and making sure your presence was welcomed. She replied in a soft voice, “Qiqi.”

“Qiqi, that’s a very sweet name. What are you drawing?” You lean forward to get a better look at her doodles. The blobs of brown and peach on the paper confused you, and you prayed that she didn’t ask you to guess.

“I’m drawing a goat. Do you want to draw a goat too?” She glanced at you with her glittering fuchsia eyes and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. Besides, a little drawing sounded fun.

You beam and nod at her, grabbing a sheet and a pencil. “What kind of goat should I make hmmm?” You wondered out loud, looking at Qiqi from the corner of you eye and awaiting her response. She turned to face you and a small smile appeared on her face. “You should make a cocogoat.”

Her idea confused you, but you maintained your cheery self. “Oh a cocogoat! What does a cocogoat look like?” You chirp, sketching out the basic shape of a cartoonish goat. Qiqi was intrigued by you way of drawing, so she left her crayons and scooted to you, eyes focused on your art.

“Cocogoat has big black eyes. And brown dots. And cocogoat is very fluffy.” Her words sound like she’s describing a stuffed animal, so you try your best to convert her words into pencil sketches, hearing her gasp and oooh in awe.

“Y/N is really good at drawing.” She complimented as you finished the sketch. You picked up a brown crayon and a black one, holding one in front of her. “Do you want to help me colour?” The bright smile she had on her face as a response put the sun to shame.

Xiao’s call lasted longer than he thought, having spent a good half an hour fixing up a problem in one of the other branches. He almost forgot about the two girls waiting for him outside.

“Most of the problems are under control now and I hope I can trust you to take care of the rest.” He huffed out, patience running thin. Once he heard a ‘yes’ from the line, he pulled the phone away from his ear and slammed the end call button. He dropped his head to the table and groaned in exhaustion.

Faint sounds coming from outside alerted him of the presence of other people. He darted from his seat and ran to the waiting area, concerned about the situation. But when he saw what he saw, his heart melted into a puddle.

Qiqi was sitting on your lap as you helped guide her hand to trace a circle on the page, the first step to drawing a cocogoat of her own. “You’re doing so well Qiqi!” You hugged her small frame, bringing her broad smile and soft giggles up to the surface.

Xiao’s mind went blank, apart from the image of his daughter smiling in high spirits, her laughter playing on repeat in his head. Seeing her happy made him happy.

“What are you doing?” He asked, more monotone than he intended. The two of you looked at Xiao standing in the doorway. “I was just helping her draw! I’m sorry…should I have not?” You inquired, panicky that you may have crossed a line.

Xiao’s eyes shifted to Qiqi, seeing her colour over the cocogoat you made for her. Well, if is made Qiqi happy, then who was Xiao to interject.

“No, don’t worry. It’s fine. So, um, that’s Qiqi, my daughter. She’s 3.” He spoke, rubbing the back of his neck unsurely. What was he supposed to do now? You were here, so was he supposed to request you to leave, because he had a children’s movie to go to in 20 minutes? Or was he supposed to change his plans with Qiqi and spend time with you? No, he couldn’t do that to Qiqi-

“Papa can Y/N come see Frozen 2 with us?” Qiqi made grabbing motions at his father, calling him closer. Xiao walked to Qiqi and lifted her from your lap, bouncing her on his hip. “Nana, I think Y/N has other things to do, we shouldn’t bother her like that.” Xiao tried to reason with her but Qiqi just pouted with a quivering lip.

“Papa please? I can ask Y/N if she can come.” Her wobbly voice changed to be directed to you, freezing you in place under her desperate gaze. Hesitantly, you looked at Xiao, reading his expression for some clarity.

A foreign but tender smile came upon his lips and you giggled, walking closer to him, or more specifically Qiqi. “Of course I’ll come watch the movie with you! I love Elsa!” Her face shifted in a blink, eyes previously brimming with tears now sparkling in excitement.

It was a bit awkward…unexpected. A hour ago, you walked into the tattoo salon with no knowledge of your plans for the rest of the day. What you thought would be two people in an empty store chatting over coffee turned into you accompanying a man and his daughter on their movie day. interesting. But soon enough, you found yourself getting comfortable around Qiqi, and more importantly around Xiao.

The movie went well, Qiqi was bubbling with excitement throughout, grabbing either your hand or her fathers during any extremely exciting scene. You’d humour her, gushing over Elsa and her magical powers. Occasionally you’d look over at Xiao sitting on Qiqi’s other side. Sometimes he’d feel your gaze and look back, sending a you a gentle smile. And the times when he didn’t notice, you’d subconsciously stare at him, finding attractive the way the blue lights from the screen brightened up his smile.

And then you were snapped out of your daze when Qiqi tugged your sleeve, squealing about Elsa’s pretty dress.

The grin on Qiqi’s face made Xiao smile. He was worried that you’d feel out of place, but seeing you gel well with Qiqi helped calm his worries.

Honestly, a part of him was elated that Qiqi was interacting so freely with another person, even better, a woman. He knew that he lacked in feminine areas and Qiqi having another woman apart from Lumine to depend on felt relieving.

Woah, woah, woah! What was he thinking?! He met you barely a week ago and was already imagining you having a bond with his daughter. What was going on with his stupid head?

When the movie ended, it was already dark as the three of you walked out, Qiqi on Xiao’s shoulders upon her request. Seeing the night sky, he offered to drop you home. It was the nicest thing he could do for you after you spent the day with him.

Offered? Well it was more of him insisting and not accepting no as an answer.

The ride home with Xiao driving the car, you in the front seat and Qiqi sound asleep in the backseat was tranquil. The music on the radio was the calming sound of violins playing in harmony, making you feel like you were in heaven.

“Hey, um thanks for coming today.” Xiao expressed his gratitude as he pulled up in front of your house. When you caught his eyes, he kept looking away, trying to hide the obvious blush on his cheeks. His brows were furrowed to contribute to his faux confidence causing you to suppress a laughter.

“Xiao you don’t need to thank me for that. I had fun.” You look back and see Qiqi laid on the back seat, mumbling in her sleep. “Qiqi is such a wonderful child, you must be so proud to be her father.” You lean to the back seat to brush away some of her stray hair.

“Yeah. She really makes life worth living.” He sighed as the two of you stepped out into the cold air. Stuffing your hands in your jacket, you trudged across the road, quiet apart from the swooshing of the wind, the tree leaves rustling as well.

“This is me.” You point out upon reaching the entrance of your apartment complex. Xiao looked at you, his golden eyes filled with a shine that you’d never expect from a man of his kind, a person who’d shut his true emotions from the whole world. What bettered the situation, was the look you returned, eyes lidded and face soft and placid. You’re so much more than any other girl he’s ever met, he can feel it in his core. There’s just something about you.

“Yeah, right. So…well.” He kicked himself for his unusual nervousness. Why was he finding it so hard to frame sentences around you?

“Xiao there’s this art exhibition my friends and I are hosting next week. We’re displaying paintings and photographs and I’d really like it if you could come.” You invite him, breaking off his nervous words.

He cracked out a tiny smile on his blushing face, never having been this excited to go out for an event. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Can I bring Qiqi along?” He asked, walking backwards to his car like a lovestruck teenager dropping his date back home.

“Of course! I’d love to see her there.” You wave at him, laughing as he accidentally tripped over air. Coughing to cover up his clumsiness, he waved back. “Great. So we’ll meet next week. Or we could hangout some time before as well, if you want.” Sweet, stuttering mess. The effects of a developing crush on a unsociable boy. Romance truly was a mystery.

With your heart beating a thousand miles an hour, you replied. “Sure. I’ll stop by the tattoo parlour some time.”

Xiao has never looking forward to work as much as he did after you spoke.

The first time you visited the parlour for non-tattooing purposes, you encountered Lumine at the entrance. She mistook you for a fan girl and was a tad bit irritated when you said that you’d come to meet Xiao.

Lumine’s annoyed glare almost sent you running for the hill, had Xiao not walked out at that moment and greeted you with a smile. The pale look on Lumine’s face was gold.

Xiao guided you into his empty tattoo room and you both just fell into conversations as if it was the most normal thing for you to do.

When you talked about the wedding you attended for work purposes, his sole focus was the sound of your voice over the meaning of your words. Your silvery voice shot right through his heart when you spoke about how beautiful the bride looked and how you were glad to be able to capture her beauty on your canvas.

Curious, he asked if he could see your works but you just laughed and winked at him, saying that you’re saving that for the exhibition. Xiao joined in your joke and laughed along, commenting that the exhibition better be worth the wait.

Inside he knew, that if your art was anything like you personality, it definitely would be.

You going to visit him had become a daily thing now.

Every day, after work, you’d walk into the store as if it was your own, shooting a quick finger gun at Aether or Lumine. You’d grown close enough to them to call them your friends.

And then you’d make a beeline to Xiao’s office and greeting him with a smile. He’d always return it with an equally eager grin morphing from the dull look he’d have plastered on before your arrival.

You’d spend a good hour, hour and a half talking. Just talking about things that mattered and that didn’t

One day, when Xiao walked you to the door right before closing time, you faced him and asked him if you could meet Qiqi some time soon, since you kinda missed her.

Xiao smiled and thought out loud that it was really sweet of you to think of her. And once the words left his lips, his face burst red as he spluttered out apologies, quickly blabbering that you could come meet Qiqi with him that day at that time.

Who were you to say no?

“So where do you live?” You asked while following the rows of streetlights lining the road. Xiao chuckled and shook his head. “We’re not going home yet. We need to get Qiqi from Zhongli’s house.” He answered.

“Oh, who’s zhongli? Is he a family member?” Your question made him tense up for a second as he pulled up into the lavish parking lot of Zhongli’s apartment complex. When he peeked at you from his peripheral vision, you had a look of curiosity on your soft features. He exhaled, ready to speak. He knew he could trust you with his past. A past only his closest friends knew about.

“Zhongli…well he’s my godfather, tho I consider him to be much more than that. He’s my guardian angel, he’s helped me through times that could have ended terribly.” His knuckles tightened on the wheel as he parked the car, shutting it off. The two of you sat for a second, both finding courage to speak more.

You extended your hand and placed it on top of his that held the wheel with a death grip. Your fingers brushed over his knuckles and almost immediately his grip slackened. “Xiao, I’m here to hear you if and whenever you’re ready to talk.” Your words were reassuring, but would you run away if he told you about the darkness he left behind? That was a risk he was going to take at that moment.

Alone in the car, he spilled out his history to you, recalling various details that had your heart clenching in shock. The blackmail, the terrible deeds he had done, how Zhongli saved him, everything. He opened himself to you completely and the weight that lifted of his shoulders felt heavenly.

Your heart ached for him and just as he finished his tale and ended with a strangled laugh, you leapt over the seat divider and wrapped your arms around his shoulder, trembling into his shoulder. He was surprised, he didn’t expect you to be so affected by this. and even if you were to be, he thought your repel from him, not tackle him in a hug.

“Xiao, I- I don’t know what to say. Thank you for trusting me with this. I promise, I’ll always be there for you. Know that you can always come to me whenever you need.” Your soothing words touched him, and he shakily let himself fall into the warmth of your hug, wrapping his arms around your waist. The hug was so comfortable, so toasty, like being enveloped in blanket on a snowy day.

He felt at home.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He whispered into the privacy you shared in the car. A moment of your own.

Zhongli was happy to finally meet the woman Xiao and Qiqi wouldn’t stop talking about; the latter squealing about your art skill and love for Elsa while the former who couldn’t get your beautiful smile off his mind.

This led to Xiao being beet red throughout the evening.

Zhongli was kind enough to host you for dinner since Qiqi was craving some pizza and zhongli just so happened to place an order before your arrival.

The three of you sat in the living room, talking about Zhongli and his job, and in return you receive quite a few absurd questions.

“So Y/N, do you have a lover, anyone you’re seeing right now?” Zhongli asked and Xiao felt very dumb for not finding that out initially. Would have been a real heartbreak, pining on someone who was already taken.

“No, nobody right now.” You giggled awkwardly.

Zhongli was ready to pester you with further questions but Xiao interrupted his interrogation session with a call for dinner. Zhongli requested you to go get Qiqi, hoping to get some time to talk Xiao.

Happily you went to surprise the little girl. When she saw you in the door way, she waved at you excitedly and pulled you to the floor, so that you could draw with her for a while. Even after you reminder that the pizza was getting cold, you couldn’t resist her begging gaze. Ah now you were stuck, doodling away.

Outside, there was a whole other storm brewing.

Zhongli looked at Xiao with a teasing gaze, no words being exchanged between the two.

“Don’t you dare say a word.” Xiao warned and got a chuckle in response. “Xiao, I haven’t even opened my mouth.”

Obviously Zhongli asked him of your relationship; what it is and what he wants it to be.

That question got stuck in Xiao’s mind like a gum that won’t get off unless you use the correct remover.

Seeing how Xiao completely shut off, Zhongli snapped him back to reality and pointed out that you hadn’t come back with Qiqi and now Xiao should go fetch you two.

Once again Xiao was greeted with the sight of you drawing with his daughter, both of you giggling and making silly sounds. The deja vu feeling warming him from the inside.

There was no hiding it.

He was falling for you. And falling hard.

“Auntie Lumine where are we going?” Qiqi asked the blonde who helped with her little blue dress. Lumine smile and replied. “We’re all going to Y/N’s art show! She will be showing all her beautiful paintings.”

Qiqi’s smile widened. “Papa we’re going to meet Y/N! Yay!” She cheered as Xiao did the buttons of his black dress shirt. He smiled and patted her head. “Yes we are. And I’m as excited as you are Nana. She is very good at drawing and I can’t wait to see her work.”

“Papa will Y/N be my mommy?” Her abrupt question made the three adults in the room choke, two holding back their laughter and the third hacking in utter shock. “W-what? Nana why do you think that?” He squeaked.

She looked between the adults like an oblivious deer. “Papa loves Y/N. I can see it!! Y/N makes papa happy. So if papa and Y/N are in love, then Y/N will become my mommy.” She spoke in a matter of fact way, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. This only made Xiao turn red in embarrassment, glaring daggers at the twins fake coughing.

“Xiao even Qiqi can see it. There’s no hiding it now.” Aether slapped Xiao’s back.

Xiao’s eyes slowly darted to Qiqi, speaking his question slowly and carefully. “Qiqi, do you want Y/N to be your mommy?” Ever drop of self respect he had drained out of him once his words came out.

But when Qiqi grinned and nodded, Xiao felt himself start to grin. “Mhmm! I like Y/N! She makes great cocogoat.”

Well at least his daughter approved of his crush choices.

“Guys! Welcome! I’m so happy you all could make it.” Your voice drew the group’s attention to you as you walked to them. When Xiao’s amber eyes fell on you, his jaw slackened as he breathed you in. There you were, hair styled in delicate curls and the formal dress you wore suited you, it really brought of the colour of your eyes.

While gawking at you Xiao’s grip on Qiqi’s hand went loose, giving her the opportunity to run to you and engulf your leg in a hug. Laughing, you reach down to pick her up and spin her, booping her nose when you stopped. “I am so happy you came Qiqi!!” You exclaim.

“And thank you guys for coming as well. It means a lot.” You gave Aether and Lumine friendly side hugs, but when Xiao’s turn came, you were different. Your hug was lingering and you pressed your nose to his cheek, lips a breath away from his burning skin. A passerby would mistake you to be his wife and the girl on your hip to be your daughter, the three of you making a lovely little family.

“Grab a champagne and I’ll show you around!” You offer while putting Qiqi down and grabbing two flutes of bubbly from a waiter, holding them out to the twin. Subtly, they smirked at each other and directed their menacing grins to Xiao.

“Thanks but I have a better idea. We’ll go check out the place on our own and maybe you can show Xiao your paintings. He was dying to see them.” Aether suggested, grabbing Qiqi’s hand. You blushed at the thought of being alone with Xiao, but the idea wasn’t unwelcomed.

“If that’s fine with everyone…”You trailed off and the twins nodded. Quickly they dragged Qiqi away, promising her a tub of coconut ice cream if she behaved. Her faint sound made your heart pound wildly in your chest.

“Uncle Aether, will papa tell Y/N he loves her?”

Xiao coughed to grab your attention. When you looked at him, his brows were knit as he avoided your gaze. His elbow was jutted out for you to grab. “Shall we?” He offered in a deep embarrassed voice.

You laced your arm in his, finding his warm hand for you to hold. “Come on, I’ll show you where my paintings are.” You manoeuvred the both of you through the moderate crowd, occasionally shooting a smile at the guests who came.

Finally, the two of you entered a darker part of the exhibition, the paintings being lit up by lights surrounding them. “Come! I’ve been waiting to show you my paintings.”

You pulled him to the first piece of art, a painting of a butterfly, colourful with overlaying stroke of various shades. Your art style was practically flawless, as an artist Xiao praised.

“It gets even better. I requested these lights to have a colour changing control panel.” You click on a light button in front of the painting and in a flash, the lights changed from white to blue. This lead to all the blue strokes of the painting being merged with the light, making the reds pop. Now the painting wasn’t just a butterfly; it was a butterfly with a message.

In red paint, various symbols showing rage and anger had being drawn over the wings. It was messy, but in an artistic way. Seeing Xiao’s awe, you clicked on the button again, turning the lights red and flipping the situation. Now the blue paint, depicting sadness, popped above the disappearing red.

“Wow, Y/N…this is astounding.” Xiao muttered, unable to draw his eyes away from the painting. A piece of paper and a few tubes of paint, yet they could speak a thousand words. That was the beauty of art.

But more specifically, that painting was the beauty of you, the beauty of the way you think, how your mind gears work.

Could you be any more impressive?

The rest of the night you walked around with Xiao, showing him the various paintings and photographs, pointing out yours with pride and mock arrogance. You pulled him from one place to another, gripping his hand tight so as to not lose him, even though he wasn’t a child. His hand felt like it fit into yours like a puzzle piece, the two of you intertwined by fate.

He’d smile at your excited expression as you talked high praise of your friends and laughed along with you whenever you made a joke.

He had to tell you how he felt, he couldn’t wait any longer lest he lose you to someone else.

“Y/N do you want to take a walk outside for a while. I’m feeling a bit stuffy here.” Xiao’s nerves were buzzing as he tugged the collar of his shirt. You blush and nod, grabbing two flutes of pink champagne and handing him one as you guided him to the balcony.

And what luck, it was unoccupied, the only ones standing at the glass railing being you and Xiao, the privacy perfect for him. You shuddered in the cold wind and instinctively Xiao took of his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Don’t worry about me. I want you to be warm. Besides, I have a good immune system.” Xiao laughed off your concerns of how he’d catch a cold if he roamed around without a jacket and shirt sleeves rolled up.

Your blush glowed brighter than the make up you’d put on as you shuffled closer to him, leaning your weight on his arm and resting your head on his shoulder. The scent of cherry blossoms wafted through the night air, thanks to the tree bordering the campus. There was a silence, both of you wanting to make the first move but also being polite and waiting for the other to speak first.

In the end, Xiao was the one who ran a bus over his pride and coughed to grab your attention. “Today’s exhibition was really nice. Thank you for inviting me.” He broke the silence and found your free hand, holding it in his own like delicate porcelain.

“I…uh…I have something to say. If you’ll hear me out.” He spun to face you, taking your flute and placing it on a spare table, grasping your hands and pulling you closer, till you were but an inch away from feeling his body.

“I’m listening.” That teasing tone in your voice gave away that you knew exactly what he wanted to say, but chose to keep your lips sealed and watch him struggle, without any malicious intent of course.

He gulped and pulled your hands up, brushing soft kisses over your soft skin. You giggled at the ticklish feeling, making Xiao look at you through the teal hair that had fallen over his eyes. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” He sighed as you nodded eagerly in response.

“Alright then. Y/N, you’ve transformed me, like a butterfly. You’ve changed me for the better, I find myself enjoying things more and being more open about myself. But, I only feel like this around you. It’e like you’re a succulent flower and I’m a butterfly, and you’re drawing me in closer and closer. And when I’m with you, I feel a feeling I’ve searched far and wide for. With you, I feel at home, I feel peace.

Y/N. I…I like you. Like a lot. Yeah. And I was hoping you could be mine? That’s it. That is what I had to say. My god, this is so embarrassing.” He groaned and 9blushed furiously, hiding his face in your palms when you pulled him closer.

“Xiao guess what? I like you too. Like a lot. And I want to be yours. Yeah.” You copy his tone while making your confession. The smile that appeared on his face when he pulled away to check your expression was practically sparking.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“No Xiao. I’m only saying this so I can steal Qiqi away from you and keep all her love to myself. Of course I like you Xiao! You make me happy.”

You both fell into giggles, and into each others arms, hugging out your emotions. Your fingers dug into his back as he tightened his arms around your waist, swaying you side to side.

“Hey Xiao, do I get to kiss you?” You ask carefully, not wanting to put him on the spot. He froze and looked at you, pupils dilated and cheeks tickled pink. “Uhm! Yeah! I guess we can kiss.” He squealed, completely nervous from having to kiss you. As if he’s never kissed anyone before.

You breathe a laugh against his lips before grabbing his cheeks and pulling him down, crashing his lips onto yours. He gasped into your mouth, gripping your waist tight, but then his amber eyes fluttered shut as he relaxed. He kissed your lips, savouring the softness of you in-between his lips.

He could taste the faint flavour of your lip gloss on his tongue, and the taste spurred him to kiss you more, kiss you harder. His hands guided you to the railing, pinning your hips against its coolness as he pressed himself against you, chest to chest. His kiss was eager, as if he’d found what he’d been searching for for centuries and now that he found it, he doesn’t want to let go. Not now, not ever.

It was like everything was finally normal, well, as normal as things could be for someone like Xiao; his life only revolving around work, Qiqi and his little circle of friends. But now, now that you were here, that too kissing him and sharing his feelings, he was so happy.

Every inch of you was burning with his soft caresses over your hips, pulling you further into his embrace. Your skin lit ablaze in his wake when he trailed a hand up to hold your face, tilting you in a way that had the kiss deepening.

The way his lips worked yours with tenderness and passion in equal proportions, had your mind drunk. He was pressed up so closely, you could smell his intoxicating cologne, the choice of his musky scent added to his appeal.

Nothing else existed in that moment, except you and Xiao, expressing your feeling for each other through actions over words.

When you pulled away, you were welcomed with his blushing face and sloppy grin; he felt so drunk after that kiss that he almost fainted into your arms then and there.

“You know, right before we came to the exhibition, Qiqi asked me if you’d be her new mommy.” He said and enjoyed your cute blush. You looked at him with a look of disbelief and got a chortle in return.

“I’m not kidding! Qiqi loves you so much, she wanted you to come dress her up instead of Lumine.” You both laughed at how adorable she could be.

“Well, honestly, it is quite early to see that far. All I know is that I’m ready to put that effort, in you and me, and in Qiqi and me. She’s special for me and I will be there for her as much as I can.” Your promise was like the cherry on top for Xiao.

“I’m so happy to hear you say that. So, whaddya say, wanna go break the news to the others?” He lifted your now flat drinks and held yours out to you, and once you grabbed it, his hand magnetically found yours, guiding you across the room.

“Hey Xiao.”

“Yeah Y/N?”

“I think I want to get a tattoo.”

“Yeah? The one you designed?”

“Yeah. And could you be the one to do it?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He grinned.

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S6B - Episode 112: American Psycho.

I’m surprised that the Riverdale production team managed to refrain themselves from titling this All American Psycho. Because that is what so many of their characters are both psycho (on and off) and All American! Charles looks like he could be a poster boy for milk and detergent. Same for Betty. Archie is and does all the stereotypical All American Boy things - abs, square jaw, lots of sex, sports, music, violence, dgaf about school.

Anyway!

We open with a meeting about the upcoming serial killer con among an unlikely assortment of people. Betty is surprised that Veronica could pull the whole thing together so fast. Ever gracious, Veronica demurs, turning the credit back to circumstances (a circuit of crime conventions already existed; Riverdale is an interesting town for murder fans).

First, Veronica is efficient and brilliant, yes, but we should never forget that she’s meant to be the head of a hedge fund, a master of the universe, and running the world (into the ground, inevitably because capitalism) but she’s stuck in fucking Riverdale running a little tiny casino. She is SO BORED. So that’s why this came together so fast. Lots of untapped energy there, for Veronica.

Second, women please don’t do this. If someone says that something unbelievable you achieved is actually unbelievable, then just say THANK YOU. And stop talking. The first time I saw a man do this (and by the way was he taking credit that was owed to others at the table in that same room at the time? WHY YES! HE WAS!) I was so sure that the skies would split open and smash him with a lightning bolt but nothing happening like that. He just took the credit and swallowed it and that was that. Do the same, ladies.

The people putting SlaughterCon together are hilarious. Veronica sits next to Archie, whom she has fucked, who is seated next to Betty, whom he has fucked, who is sitting next to Agent Drake, who wants to fuck her, who is finally seated next to Charles, who nobody should ever fuck. (Sorry, Charles fans.)

Veronica being the ultimate carpenter, the doer, only thinks to ask if SlaughterCon, which is a trap expressly set up to bring a known serial killer to her Murder Capital of Smalltown USA, is dangerous only after she has done all the work to set it up and bring it about.

What’s the quote from Anne Sexton about suicides?

Like carpenters they want to know which tools/ They never ask why build.

Veronica isn’t so much worried about harm to attendees or her neighbors (as Percival likes to call everyone). She just doesn’t want to do more body clean up, purely because she killed her body-clean-up guy.

Veronica. Get help.

Charles says, with a very creepy vanity, that he loves his ‘fans.’ He also deigns to speak on behalf of all serial killers which - please see above note re men having no qualms about taking credit and leadership whatsoever regardless of qualification. So, since Charles loves his fans and doesn’t like to shit where he eats, he assures everyone that TBK also loves his fans and wouln’t want to shit where he eats.

Veronica is secondarily worried about Betty (which is actually a great kindness and great progress for her, because Betty is also only tertiarily worried about Veronica. This is growth).

Betty says TBK won’t harm her, because he thinks the two of them are soulmates. She then outlines the security measures she’s put in place, including an agent outside her home to protect Alice and Charles (the ultimate redshirt lol). Agent Drake says she’ll be close by and this is when Archie comes in with the dick measuring contest. I will be too.

Dude.

Dude. Archie. Dude.

Drake is an FBI agent. You’re a - I don’t even know what you are. Can you have a little respect? Agent Drake looks very annoyed. I am not projecting my workplace meeting dynamics into this tv show. I. am. not.

I’ve never been to a con of this stripe, but actually Veronica’s program sounds pretty good and varied!

Simulated autopsy. Hybristophilia. Panels on Black Hood and the Starkweathers. G&G Tournament. 1:1 Sit down with Betty. And there will be live entertainment by Kevin! Not Sweeney Todd (were they unable to procure the rights?) but American Psycho because we need another Bret Easton Ellis reference. (RAB what is your problem with him? Was he mean to you?)

Veronica, Betty’s hidden admirer (BERONICA WHEN OMG) also dislikes Drake. Veronica is rarely directly rude to people for no reason, unlike Betty, but oh man the jealousy is very evident.

In a very dark-green-on-black room full of antiques and heavy ornate furniture, Uncle Fucking Frank and Percival discuss the need to mind control all of the workers of the construction crew because Bailey’s comet is making its 65 year return which is an essential part of Percival’s railway plan.

In a very brightly lit, simply furnished living room where almost everyone present is wearing some species of flannel check, Archie tells the striking union members that the union has approved of their strike and will send some sort of living stipend. And Tabitha, looking wonderful in her heels and tied back hair, offers to feed everyone and their families for free from Pop’s.

It’s not that I don’t want her to do this, but how is she affording this exactly?

There is a brief product placement for Smart food white cheddar pop corn of which Tabitha eats literally ONE.

Archie thanks her for the provision of the free food but doesn’t ask how she can afford it. She very discreetly hints at her stress and despair when she admits she has a strong desire to “keep busy.” That’s when Archie actually asks after Jughead.

Woah, stop the presses!

Jughead is still fighting off the cacophony of voices in his head. This is absolutely introvert hell and I feel so terrible for Jughead, a fiction maker and mythologizer who can’t control the voices of others invading his most private space. He looks catatonic in the Bunker.

Archie asks if he’s drinking again, and when assured by Tabitha that he is not, he is very relieved, and says a bunch of pablum about how strong Jughead is and how he’s going to beat it.

Meaning, I’m not going to help him.

Meaning, it’s not my problem.

I hate it when people say someone is ‘strong’ and then abandons them, can you tell?

Also if Jughead was drinking again, would Archie have cared more?

At Thornhill, Toni delivers the horrendous news that she’s going to be marrying Fangs right to Cheryl’s face. The tendons that stand out SO STRONG against Cheryl’s neck? THAT’S ME. The REVULSION in her face, where she has to lift all the skin of her scalp up to her crown so she can yank her lips into a smile? THAT’S ME.

Just in time, Heather, who has the longest legs ever, comes wandering in with a book. Cheryl introduces her as “my -dot dot dot - friend, Heather,” while gently caressing her elbow. Because we all do that with our ‘friends.’

When Toni stands up to take her leave, we see that Cheryl is wearing the deepest V neck cut you can wear without actually being entirely topless which is a hilarious contrast to Heather, who is buttoned up almost to her chin. Did she put this on because she knew Toni was coming or did she put this on for Heather? Both?

Toni invites Cheryl and Heather to her Bachelorette party, which will happen at the Serial Killer Convention. (“How apropos” Cheryl puts in. I love you forever, Cheryl Blossom.)

After Toni’s departure, Heather very sweetly asks Cheryl if she’s doing ok which of course, she is not. Cheryl delivers the most I Am Not All Right speech, using all the words of defense she can think of.

Next we are at Slaughter Con!

Why is Veronica dressed like Dorothy Gale? All the attendees for some reason really love the idea of a musical number (this is the most unrealistic thing ever). Veronica said Kevin promised to bring 1980s pizzazz but I think these suits that all these men are wearing are too tame. Kevin is a lovely singer, I love his singing voice, but he cannot sell choreography.

Betty sees a Black Hood in the crowd. They advance towards each other, and this Black Hood takes out a knife. He is apprehended by Betty and Archie. He turns out to be a wild eyed young man with a very Kermit the Frog voice, who says he bought the real Black Hood murder weapon from e-Slay. He wanted an autograph from Betty, because she’s practically one of them. When she doesn’t reject him outright, he actually starts to beg for her to kill him. Archie hauls him out of there as Kevin warbles, “I’m not a common man” over the proceedings like that means something.

Percival comes to the relocated Diner in order to do the mind control on everyone who is getting a free lunch there. Fangs is the first to go. You know how he was supposed to use Baby Anthony (whom he has still never, ever picked up) as the anchor? Archie using Fred as his anchor worked because even though he was an absolutely shit son through and through, Archie really did love his dad and reveres him still. The fact that Fangs cannot use Anthony as an anchor says nothing good about him. This feat of mind control on all of the workers gives Percival a nose bleed. (Nosebleed to denote extreme strain is so gross, I hate it. I’d rather people shit themselves.)

Back at SlaughterCon, Agent Drank is getting her full Jughead one. Even her presentation boards look like murder boards ©. She has the same smug, talk down delivery using overly large words as Jughead. Hybristophilia is a kink that means you are turned on by law breaking and evil doing. Innate attraction to the dark side of life, is what she says and I’m fascinated by her shirt which has stripes that look like cut outs.

Archie doesn’t understand why anyone would be drawn to ‘that kind of thing.’ Uh. Betty and Jughead and Veronica are all attracted to him, and Betty, as representative, looks very uncomfortable and lies that she doesn’t know, because that’s what Betty does.

Tabitha summons Archie to the Diner.

Kevin is visited by an irate Cheryl dressed like an actual witch, and carrying a book of dark magic.

Tabitha, Toni and Fangs are trying to figure out a way to free everyone from mind control. So the three of them decide to go and remind everyone of their tethers. Tabitha says they’re going to use music.

Cheryl and KevKev do a wedge spell, without specifying what the wedge is, against Foni. Normally I don’t like this sort of thing - bitter exes that wish ill are not cool - but I am with team Dark Magic on this one.

Tabitha, Toni and Fangs and all the families of the workers go to the worksite and sing a song and it works. Fangs breaks out of it first, which I guess deserves some sort of recognition, but his commitment to never, ever holding Baby Anthony is absolute. I don’t know if the show means for it to be a character beat or if they have an actual live baby whose mother will not let the particular actor hold her baby, but it’s so very very weird.

Back at SlaughterCon, Agent Drake is being Jughead to Betty as she talks about herself and her goals and her problems, and then she shoots her shot. “I’m attracted to you,” is what she says after making fun of Archie as “the boyfriend.”

I feel so bad for Agent Drake. “We have so much in common” is usually a great thing between two people who feel an attraction towards each other, but not if you’re Betty Cooper who absolutely despises herself and everything she comes from. She doesn’t want to fuck someone she has anything in common with.

“I’ve been picking up vibes from you,” Drake also says, and Betty looks as happy as she’s looked in ages.

We cut to Betty being woken up in glowing sunlight with a cup of coffee delivered to her by Agent Drake in a gray T shirt and nothing but. (OK, OK. Show? OK. I got it. Drake = Girl Jughead. Yes. OK?).

It turns out to be a super repressed wet dream. (Who the hell dreams about this? Also is this what’s missing from the Barchie relationship? Tenderness? Sweetness?)

Shout out to the tumblrina tha pointed out that when Betty wakes up for real, it’s in the cold, blue, depressing light of heteronormativity. Over breakfast with The Boyfriend, Betty tells Archie he doesn’t have to attend the Con, but then feels disappointed at his evident relief at not attending a thing that she finds important and fascinating.

Cheryl comes by with baked goods to the Foni apartment, to be told that Baby Anthony has colic and a fever. She becomes convinced that she is the one who gave these extremely common conditions to this baby through her magic. Cheryl, freaked out, runs back to cancel the spell, along with Kevin. Kevin says the most Kevin thing ever: This is your fault.

Veronica is seated under her own portrait when Betty tells her that Agent Drake tried to ask her out.

“She professed her love for you, like out of some romance novel?” asks Veronica, her voice dripping with contempt.

Uh. What Drake actually did was declare, I am attracted to you and I think you like me to, so how about it?

Veronica is so jealous. She has to be saying what she wishes she would do. I mean, she knows Betty, has known Betty and of course has done a romance novel thing for Betty when she was a girl: Declared that she loved Betty and then drank poison on her behalf, while they were both in ballgowns. I mean. Girl. GIRL. Get it together.

And I try. I try to stay liking Betty, but she’s kind of shit. She agrees with Veronica who wholesale slanders Drake by calling her ‘unprofessional.’ I mean. She specifically went over there to show off to Veronica that she got hit on by this cool, sexy woman.

“But it’s started to make me think,” begins Betty.

“Uh oh,” Veronica replies.

BURN. Omg. What.

Betty just glides right over that, to be an absolute shit to Veronica. She consults about her problems (this is so tiresome - does Betty literally never talk about anything other than herself and her deeply personal concerns?) with Archie to the girl who wanted to live with Archie as a tradwife just a little while ago (and all the history blah blah).

Veronica forbids Betty from pursuing things with Drake even though she has no rebuttals to statements like Betty pointing out that ‘on paper’ she and Drake are compatible, and also Betty miming with her entire face that she is in fact attracted to Drake and further that she had ‘a dream’ about the woman, which she strongly implies was sexual. She just doesn’t want it to happen. This is a weird form of control - Betty has just confessed to Veronica that she finds herself unable to achieve true intimacy (being ‘herself’) with Archie, which is exactly the problem that Veronica had with Archie, and yet Veronica’s advice to Betty is to forgo a viable, fresh option with an attractive, compatible person, to stay with Archie.

Is this like, an ex girlfriend version of the “I hope you have children just like you” curse from parents?

Veronica charges over to Drake to tell Drake that it’s not cool for Drake to have confessed her “attraction” to Betty. Which means actually then Betty DID NOT LIE about what actually transpired and it was Veronica who deeply overreacted. Veronica’s pleased smile after Drake takes a dignified leave of this unwarranted, over-stepping conversation is so sad to me. Veronica, please figure it out.

Heather undoes the dark magic that’s been placed on Baby Anthony. She seems to be Archie Coded - she’s a librarian, midwife, nightnurse on top of being a necromancer and witch. Everyone thanks her.

Can someone please tell me why Fangs never, ever touches his son?

Alice interviews Betty at the highlight of the SlaughterCon. Alice’s way of being a moderator is so cheesy. People are here to be fans of Betty Cooper. TBK gives the panel a call.

The way he says “Oh Betty” is so campy and gross and I love it. I wish I knew someone named Betty so I could call her and say “Oh Betty” with a little moan in my voice just like him.

They keep showing us Drake watching Betty so we can tell she’s not TBK.

“It ends with you and me and a kiss in the dark,” says TBK, before hanging up.

Cheryl is getting a very gentle telling off from Heather about doing magic for bad purposes. Heather and Cheryl decide to have fun with their second chance. So they decide to go to the Bachelorette party for Toni.

We get a musical number which basically is all the pretty ladies in Riverdale doing a nonsense song that is a long list of 80s designer names. Agent Drake is there, which I don’t understand, but appreciate. They’re all just so pretty! I’m so happy. I love that Heather wears glasses even when she’s dressed up. ME TOO GIRL.

It segues into a blended dance number with Kevin etc on stage so I appreciated this transition. The music goes from non-diagetic to diagetic, not seamlessly, but surreally. I love this about Riverdale.

In the melee Betty finally spots TBK! He attacks Kevin! With a plastic bag!

Betty runs to the rescue but it turns out that um Kevin was both expressing how much he hates himself and was trying to be super very classy as part of his show, by having Dr. Curdle Jr. act the part of TBK on stage for his terrible musical which nobody is paying any real attention to at this opint.

Then Betty sees the real TBK!

Briefly, we spend time with Heather and Cheryl. Heather had a wonderful time at the party. Cheryl shows Heather her very interesting art. (I kind of hate Cheryl’s art style.) Heather really likes it, calls it breathtaking. They finally kiss!!!!! It’s in a very gentle, sisterly way until they walk off further into the inner room and one of them slams the other one onto a divan. Well ok then!

Next morning, Betty tells Archie that she saw TBK. Because Kevin threw a hissy fit about his ‘vision’ being messed up, Betty is going to take over his part, and hold herself out as bait for TBK into the bargain. Archie doesn’t want her to do it, and Betty says he has to just be okay with her doing insane dangerous things.

Betty is not sure she wants picket fences or marriage or babies.

This was VERY CATHARTIC. Finally. FINALLY? Betty can stop trying to find the psychosis in babies and children and just admit, even without all the nonsense about genes and whatnot, she just doesn’t wanna do motherhood. Please?

And Archie confirms that he does in fact want these things. They defer the very important discussion until after the mission to capture TBK.

Betty immediately reports the results of this very personal, very intimate conversation with her boyfriend to her jealous never-girlfriend, Veronica. Betty is so vain, and we had another cathartic (for me ) moment, where Betty luxuriates in her favorite delusion about herself, that she is ‘too dark’ for some boy.

Veronica calmly points out that she’s killed more people. Husband and Father, and a Boyfriend accidentally. Betty’s hurried, “You don’t have to go there V” doesn’t sound like a friend trying to protect another from negative self talk. I just think Betty doesn’t like being confronted with the actual reality that she is not that special or extreme or unusual, as far as Riverdale residents go.

“We’re all dark in Riverdale, all right?”

Thank you.

Just in time, Agent Drake comes to summon them. The creepazoid Blackhood wannabe from last night is there with a confiscated gun. Drake takes out the trash. Betty is wearing a very questionable checked pattern pantsuit.

We’ve jumped forward in time. Betty and Veronica and Drake are all sad that TBK did not show up for Betty’s number. I actually like Betty’s singing voice and performance style a lot, but I am not in love with this musical (it’s noisy and tedious and tuneless) so I was for a moment very pleased that we’d be spared more songs from it, but I just don’t understand TV show editing.

Veronica takes her leave. Before she leaves Agent Drake asks a very Jughead question of Betty: “Who were you singing about? Archie or TBK?” The question hits home, so Betty refuses to answer.

While Betty sings a song that sounds very lovesick, we get a bit of the Barchie greatest hits reel, and it goes by slower than the Bughead greatest hits flashback we got a few episodes ago that assaulted Jughead like a migraine. She’s in Archie’s bedroom when she sees TBK in her bedroom!

She rushes to her mom’s house. Of course, the unnamed agent that they put on Charles-and-Alice detail is dead. TBK has tied up both Alice and Charles. Alice, instead of saying, LET’S GET OUT OF HERE when she’s unmuzzled, tells Betty where to go (the garage) and then says Don’t Go. Like Willy Wonka in the first version movie trying to prevent children from being mauled by the machines in his factory.

Betty and TBK have a long discussion about the Nature of Betty Cooper. TBK says they’re soulmates. He’s made a hideous trashbag mask for Betty to put on. He’s pretty convinced that putting the mask on will bring Betty over to the dark side. She shoots him forthwith.

When Betty comes back to her dining room to free her half brother and her mother, it’s implied that she’s been gone for a while after the gunshot, and then they show us that it’s true. She sat at the fully set dinner table and observed his corpse for a long time.

Percival is very pissed off about how badly things have gone.

Back with Archie, Betty relays the events of the evening to her boyfriend. “I fear that whatever is inside my dad [redacted] - that it’s inside me too.”

Well. This has to be why I refuse to identify with Betty Cooper. Huh. Oh my dad isn’t a serial killer or anything, just to be clear.

Betty and Archie affirm their commitment to each other. To his girlfriend that just killed a man and is super calm about it, Archie says, “TBK didn’t make you a killer. Your dad didn’t make you a killer.”

Then he conjures a memory (another one of Betty’s repressed memories) where the two of them saved and nursed a little bird back to health. (I have to ask - Is it possible Jughead was there and they both forgot him like they always have?) And this one act of childhood kindness and veterinary competence is supposed to fix everything. Betty’s very worried eyes, that stay worried even after the kiss, perhaps indicate that life in Riverdale doesn’t actually work this way at all.

[yslkook]

red card - on the defensive (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader (soccer captain jjk) summary: you and jungkook run in the same circles, and yet after three years, he struggles to get your time of day. you think he’s cocky and he’s going to change your mind. word count: 5.1k warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking (lots of it), suggestive content a/n: this story is for @cutechim​, it went down in the DM’s and came to life. this is my entry into the blond jk foray!! enjoy<3

red card masterlist

“What should we drink?” Hana shouts over the music to you in the crowd.

“Uh… let’s do jagerbombs,” You shout back, even though you’re both relatively close to each other at the bar. You peer behind you at the group of people you’ve congregated with this afternoon, counting a total of four. 

“Can I have… eight jagerbombs?” You request of the bartender, who raises his eyebrow at you.

“Why am I not surprised,” He says with a roll of his eyes, “You’re all gonna run me dry of my jager.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time it happened,” You mutter. And you’re right- it’s happened at least twice over this summer, when you and your friends made a weekly appearance to this bar. The bartender knows you and Hana by your faces at this point and you’ve jokingly asked why your usual order of jagerbombs or tequila shots aren’t ready upon arrival.

These weekly occurrences were sponsored by your job at a law firm near your university. And by sponsored, you mean that your bank account takes a minor hit on a weekly basis. Since university had let out, you’d made yourself available for as many hours as possible- after all, you needed a way to fund these days and nights out.

While juggling a summer class three days a week for three hours each day.

But you weren’t completely financially irresponsible- you drew the line… eventually. Certainly not after eight jagerbombs though (you’d stopped questioning how you could easily drop that much money on alcohol these days). At least it's summer happy hour and you’re not paying full price.

Besides, you and your friends rotate rounds. Hana will get the next one, and then one of the guys, and so on and so forth. You’d gotten two extra specially for you and Hana, but nobody needed to know that.

You love these summer days, when it’s nothing but you and your friends enjoying the breeze and the vibes of a fun afternoon (that inevitably leads to a night of more recklessness). Nothing can take the tipsy grin off of your face or the arm looped around your best friend’s shoulders, except-

Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.  You don’t mind Jimin as much (mostly because of Hana, who’s been harboring a not so secret crush that is definitely bordering more on love than a simple crush on him for who knew how long). But still, when all three of them are together, you make your disdain very known and obvious. At least you think you do.

Some of the star players from your university’s soccer team, and the captain himself, Jeon Jungkook. They walk into the crowded, noisy bar as if they own the place and you can already see heads turning. You roll your eyes and tell Hana to get it together when she starts giggling and waving at Jimin.

Your eyes seem to meet the back of your skull when all three of them saunter over towards you and your friends. It’s not that you have anything against them per se, it’s that you find them as a unit quite annoying and you know of their reputations. Or, you think you know of their reputations. Maybe you’re a little judgmental. But who cares, it’s not any of their business.

Most of your perhaps misplaced vitriol is reserved for Jungkook himself and the few interactions that you’ve had over the last almost four years of being in university together. You’ve had a few general ed classes with him freshman year, but after that most of your interactions were solely at parties and any excuse to celebrate. You had mutual friends (somehow) so it was inevitable that you saw him as much as you did.

Every fiber of him annoyed you- he was cocky and arrogant… Everything you intensely disliked in a person. Hana told you that you were being mean and judgmental (not as nicely), but if it meant not dealing with this boy who got a rise out of you for no reason, then it didn’t matter. Of course, he doesn’t take up space in your mind very often. Only when you have the misfortune of running into him.

You didn’t know him, and truly, you didn’t care to. You’ll remain civil though, only if he doesn’t annoy you. Which you doubt will happen.

Jungkook can sense your iciness towards him and his friends from half a mile away, from across the bar. And the bar itself is pretty big, with an outdoor area and an outdoor dance floor, and two bars inside with tables and booths and a dance floor. Despite the space of the bar, it’s crowded with college students, young professionals, and even older corporate workers who look like they work relatively close to the bar. He knows you and your friends come here often, and if that was why he had suggested to Jimin and Tae that they also come here then that was his business.

He swallows (not nervously). You look so pretty when you laugh, he thinks. He thinks you look pretty all the time, though. He lets his eyes wander to your tight black crop top shirt with cherries printed on it and your high waisted denim shorts. Jungkook’s throat goes a little dry when his gaze reaches your thighs, but he keeps it together somehow. He doesn’t know how, considering how nice that outfit makes your tits look.

“Hey Cherries,” Jungkook says smoothly, “Flattered you got this for me.” And he plucks the jagerbomb that you paid for for yourself and downs it in less than three seconds. 

Your jaw drops. The audacity of this boy.

“First of all,” You narrow your eyes, “Who the fuck is a ‘Cherries’. And second of all, I know you didn’t just drink the drink that I paid for. Right in front of my fuckin’ face.”

“That’s a funny way of asking me to buy you a drink, Cherries,” Jungkook grins, and gazes at your chest for a second too long. You roll your eyes and swat his arm.

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I’ll have a tequila shot, pretty boy,” You smirk at him and he smirks right back at you.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants,” Jungkook attempts, only for you to scoff.

“Congratulations,” You say flatly, “You’re lucky I’m not subjecting you to getting me two tequila shots for having to hear that line.”

“You don’t like my lines?” He’s pouty and his eyes are wide, mischief sparkling in them. You dare to think that he’s cute. Apparently all of the boys had dyed their hair blond this summer before the soccer season began and you must admit that it suits him. His hair falls over his forehead effortlessly, small hoops dangling from his ears as he smiles at you.

“Does anyone? Do your groupies?”

“Maybe I’m a little rusty…”

“Oh, I doubt that, Jungkook.”

“Well, you notice whether I have groupies or not, so maybe I’m not so rusty, Cherries,” Jungkook winks at you and you’re tempted to toss your drink at him. But that’s a precious waste of alcohol and perhaps you’re a little dramatic.

You only groan and accept the tequila shot, quickly licking your hand to place salt on and taking a wedge of lime.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks after doing the same.

“How lucky for me, that I get to do shots with our star quarterback,” You say flatly.

“That’s football, Cherries. I play soccer.”

“And I don’t care. Now, take this shot with me.”

As the afternoon blends into evening, you witness betrayal in front of your very eyes in the form of Hana inviting Jimin and his friends with you to the next bar. The ultimate betrayal.

But really, you’ve heard about those soccer boys. At least you think you have. Perhaps you know everything. Perhaps you know nothing at all.

And so the three boys follow you to the next bar as the night goes on. Nearly everyone was at least tipsy by this point, as you had all done a handful of shots following the boys’ arrival at the first bar.

You find yourself thinking that they’re not so bad, when they make you and your friends laugh easily and when being around them feels… fun. 

It’s easy to blame on the alcohol and the darkness of the crowded bar. It seems like everyone is out and about, the streets filled with college students and young professionals looking to unwind and let off some steam.

You love the feeling of the music pumping through your veins, along with the swirl of alcohol. You’re not ashamed of enjoying a drink (or several) and having a good time.

Even if it almost always results in you crossing the line and being hungover the next day.

“Wanna do shots,” You suggest to your circle of friends, eyes landing on Jungkook without you meaning to. Maybe it’s a hidden challenge and he raises his eyebrows.

“Again?” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Don’t be surprised,” Jimin mutters under his breath to Jungkook, “She’s kinda crazy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes… six shots then?” You say cheerily, ignoring Jungkook’s groan. You vaguely recall that Taehyung doesn’t really drink. How considerate of you.

Hana’s arm is slung around your shoulders, a bright (drunken) smile on her face as you pass shots behind you.

The following week, on your usual day of happy hour drinking, Hana presents you with a proposition that has you gasping and gagging, nearly writhing on the floor.

“No, for your information, I do not want to pregame at the soccer house. Thanks for asking, try again later,” You say definitively, pouring Hana a drink.

“Jimin invited us! I wanna see him,” Hana complains and pouts at you, “He said they got good alcohol for the pregame-”

“Jimin invited you, because you both like each other or whatever,” You roll your eyes, “I’m content to drink here alone-”

“We both know you’ll fall asleep if I leave you alone,” Hana says flatly, “Besides, Jungkook asked if you were coming.”

“And what do I care if Jungkook asked if I was coming?” You scoff, taking a long swig of the strong drink in your red solo cup. You cringe.

“He specifically asked if Cherries was coming,” Hana says with a near maniacal grin, “Pretend all you want that you don’t like that shit. Now go wear that top with cherries on it that makes your tits look nice. Quit being difficult.”

In the end, you end up walking the four blocks to the soccer house and you wear the baby pink long sleeved crop top with cherries on it and denim shorts, much to your chagrin (and to Hana’s delight). You’ve only been here a handful of times (maybe two or three) as a freshman for parties and hadn’t been back since.

Everyone knew the soccer house was the place to party to get shitfaced. Usually, the sophomore and junior year soccer players lived in the house while senior year players moved off campus.

You don’t know who currently lives at the house, but Hana quickly fills you in. Apparently Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook lived together off campus (because of course they did).

The soccer house has been part of the campus lore for years. Allegedly, all of the craziest, most reckless things happened at the soccer house and all of the best parties were there. You and Hana never felt that way freshman and sophomore year, instead opting to party hop at the frat houses rather than the sports houses.

How the tables have turned.

“You made it!” Jimin exclaims, outstretching his arms for a hug from you. Which you (awkwardly) return. You need more alcohol to be here, you think.

“Yeah, only ‘cause Hana told me you guys got the good shit,” You say flatly. Taehyung passes a cup of something and you eye it suspiciously but ultimately take a swig of it.

“Pretty good, Tae,” You say, raising your cup to him.

“Oh, I didn’t make that. I’m only the messenger,” Taehyung shrugs with a sly grin, “Jungkook over there did.”

You turn your head, only to find Jungkook staring back at you, lips upturned in a playful grin. It makes you roll your eyes, as most of his antics do.

“Hey, Cherries,” Jungkook greets, standing next to you after a few long strides, “It only took Jimin asking you once to come here, huh? I should be offended, considering how many times I’ve asked you-”

“And when have you ever asked me to party here, Jungkook?”

He only gives you a small smile, almost shy, and it’s a stark contrast from the generally cocky aura that hangs around him. “You just don’t remember.”

You frown a little, wondering what that means. But he gives you another broad smile quickly, shaking you from your reverie. Jungkook leaves you to your devices, being pulled away by some of the younger soccer guys that you hardly recognize. Freshmen? Sophomores, maybe? They look at Jungkook and the older guys with a playful sort of reverence- it’s clear that the team is close even off of the field. 

You briefly wonder what that’s like- having a group of friends like that. Hana’s always been the nicer, more outgoing one out of you both. She’s always made friends easily, with her sweet and genuine smiles. And then there’s you- you struggle to open up to others, always greeting anyone with the sting of sarcasm and holding people at arm’s length.

Sometimes, very rarely, you wonder how you and Hana mesh well together. When she could have a big group of great friends, you used to wonder if you hold her back somehow. It was stupid, and the first time you voiced your insecurity to Hana, she had smacked you upside the head and told you that you were stuck with her.

But still. You can’t help but feel burdensome sometimes. Maybe like you’re too much. Maybe not enough.

Hana pulls you out of your thoughts easily, an arm around your shoulder as she pulls you into conversation with Jimin and a few other girls. 

You down about half the cup of whatever concoction Jungkook whipped up for you and tried to immerse yourself in conversation. There’s a new girl here that you don’t recognize, Sunmi. She’s a transfer and the last thing you want is for her to feel left out. So you make sure to include her in the conversation and ask her questions, too.

Jungkook is not surprised that you don’t remember how many times he’s asked you to come party at the soccer house. Granted, it’s only been a handful of times over the last three years and change. It’s not like you were a stranger- he’s known you through a few mutual classes through the years, and through Jimin, too. After all, Jimin and your best friend have had this weird on and off, together but not together thing going on since the summer before sophomore year.

Maybe one of these days, they’ll get it together. Jungkook loves Hana for Jimin and vice versa- he’s never seen either smile as much as they do around each other. If only they would just admit how much they like (love) each other and put everyone around them out of their misery.

Jungkook thinks it’s a little romantic. Being so in love with someone that labels aren’t needed. There’s something poetic about that.

But Jungkook doesn’t know why you act like you don’t know him at all. You always greet him with a near frown or a roll of your shining eyes.

He doesn’t understand but he pays it no mind, instead turning his focus to the pretty woman eyeing him from the other side of the bar with her friends.

(She’s not you, but it doesn’t matter. Jungkook pushes you to the back of his mind, instead choosing to focus on the velvet heat of the woman in his bed later that night.)

With your shift at the law firm starting at 9 AM the following morning, you decide to remain relatively sober for the night (you enjoy a good time, but you try to draw the line when you can. Though there have been times when you’ve gone to work hungover or possibly even still intoxicated. It happens every so often. You’ve never claimed to be the paradigm of a working college student.)

But also, you don’t really feel like being out tonight to begin with. You do enjoy nights like this, but you also enjoy your quiet time. And it seems like this is one of those nights.

At least someone’s having fun, you think dryly, your eyes glossing over Jimin and Hana. You do think they’d be a great match- if only either of them would make it official. This dance that they’ve been doing for years frustrates you and Hana knows it. You’ve voiced it to her many times but she always says it’s not the right time.

It makes you roll your eyes. You briefly wondered if you should host an intervention and scold Jimin for taking too long- after all, if they kept playing games like this then who’s to say one of them wouldn’t move on? But it seems like they both always gravitate to each other no matter what.

He rotates around her axis and she rotates around his. It’s sweet but Jimin still puts a sour taste in your mouth for a reason that you can’t verbalize into words.

Maybe it’s the company he keeps. 

The music is loud in your ears as you dance with your group of friends, two of them in an impromptu dance off that you inevitably get dragged into. You sling your arm around Sunmi and nudge hips with her, getting her to come out of her shell a little bit and dance with her on the dance floor. She sings to the same songs as you do and gives you a bright, happy smile that you can’t help but return.

You buy a round of beers for your friends before the first yawn comes, not even at 1 AM. Hana looks at you quizzically.

You keep checking your phone for the time. Which in itself is pretty out of character for you. But you just need a recharge before the next outing…..

But you suck it up, not wanting to leave Sunmi by herself. You fight through your yawns and nurse your beer, twirling and swirling around with Sunmi.

And then you start to get hungry. Damn, you could go for some tacos right now.

“Hey,” Sunmi shouts over the music, “Wanna get food?”

“Wow, you read my mind,” You grin and chug your beer quickly. You and Sunmi both settle on the bar across the street (with the best tacos). You turn to find your friends and let them know that you’re heading across the street. Jimin and Hana both nod eagerly, Taehyung does, too.

You debate if you should ask Jungkook if he wants food- after all, it looks like he’s busy with a girl currently sending him sultry heart eyes. 

“Hey, we’re going to get food. Wanna come?” You ask, “You, too.” You look at the pretty girl who looks familiar. She probably attends the same university as you and your friends. 

Jungkook’s ears perk up at the mention of food, even with the girl currently standing in between his legs. She looks wary for a minute and before you can reassure her, Jungkook speaks up.

“Sure. I could go for some tacos,” Jungkook says, “Let’s get some tacos, Nari.”

“Are you sure, I mean I don’t want to impose. We can catch up later, Kook,” Nari says unsurely.

Jungkook will admit, this feels weird for a reason that he can’t place. The girl he’s trying to hook up with for the night getting tacos with the girl he might have a slight crush on. 

Weird. But still, there’s no harm in just having tacos.

“Trust me, you’re not imposing, Nari. I barely even like this guy,” You joke, “I’m just a big proponent of tacos and tacos should never be eaten alone. Tell your friends too, if they wanna come.”

“Hey!” 

You ignore Jungkook to reassure Nari and give her a bright smile. Nari looks at you, and then Jungkook before nodding slowly and returning your smile.

Jungkook walks Nari out with a hand at the small of her back, something you don’t miss as you chat away with Nari about anything and everything.

You even shoot Jungkook a wink when Nari isn’t looking. He groans internally- how poetic. His current crush giving him the approval of his hook up for the night (Nari knew what the deal was).

How incredibly awkward. Jungkook is capable of many things, always adapting to situations. But this is a new one and when Jimin and Taehyung catch his eye at the taco shop, they both give him a derisive smile.

Jungkook can only groan internally and eat his tacos.

Today’s Wednesday night is uneventful- Hana is with Jimin for the evening and they are likely going out with some friends. You had opted out, as you had an early shift at the law firm tomorrow morning. You’ve gone out the night before early shifts and early classes and more than half the time, you regret it the next day.

Does it mean you’ll stop those habits any time soon? Stay tuned.

But today, you just feel tired from a particularly long, difficult morning of class and your half shift that you worked until five PM. You hadn’t felt like cooking dinner (you had taken leftovers to work for lunch) and by the time you finished your homework for your natural language processing class, it was past 9 PM and your stomach was rumbling loudly.

You’ve been craving noodles, dumplings and chicken. So you place an order at the nearby restaurant by your apartment and order some extra for Hana for later or for tomorrow.

It’s only a fifteen minute walk from your apartment to the shop, and you plug your headphones in to begin your walk.

You sway on the heels of your feet as you wait for your food, saying hello to the couple who owns the small restaurant. They know you by face, from how many times you’ve been here. Your favorite comfort food (besides homemade food made by your parents) exists here. Your favorite aromas exist here and even just the smell of noodles and chicken has your tummy rumbling.

“I thought you would’ve been out,” A voice comes from your right side, “It’s the week before classes start.”

You turn your head at the voice, heart startling a bit. What in the world is Jungkook doing at your secret but not so secret restaurant?

“I could say the same for you,” You remark with a raise of your eyebrow, “I heard Jimin and Tae went out.”

You vaguely wonder if he’s still hooking up with Nari but decide it’s not your business to ask.

“Ah, well… I have work tomorrow,” Jungkook shrugs.

“Me too, they want me in at 7:30 tomorrow,” You complain, “What do I look like? A cog in the wheel that is capitalism?”

“Don’t we all?” Jungkook snorts.

“I didn’t realize you were working this summer, too. Thought you were just doing whatever soccer captains do,” You mutter, picking up your order off of the countertop.

“And what do soccer captains do, Cherries?”

“I dunno. Score touchdowns or whatever,” You shrug and laugh at the pained expression on Jungkook’s face, “And stop calling me that, Jungkook.”

“Whatever, Cherries. I’ve been working at this architecture firm as an intern. Figured it would help with post grad.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know that was your major…”

“You definitely did, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you.”

“When-” You shake your head, not wanting to argue with him, “That’s cool. I’m working at a law firm, it’s about a fifteen minute bus ride from my apartment.”

“You wanna study law? Makes sense, because you always wanna argue with me-”

“No, I don’t really know if I want to go to grad school,” You trail off, “Hey! I don’t always argue with you!”

“You’re arguing now,” He says smugly, crossing his hands across his broad chest that you definitely do not ogle at.

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You roll your eyes, “You here for classes or anything?”

“Nah, not this summer. Just work and soccer,” Jungkook replies, “Gives me lots of time for other things.” The man has the audacity to wink at you and give you a big, bunny grin. You pretend like your stomach doesn’t flutter.

You roll your eyes, again. 

“How about you, Cherries? Any classes?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this natural language processing class three times a week for three hours each day-”

“Wait, you’re a comp sci major?” He asks incredulously, “Why are you working at a law firm then?”

“I’m working half as IT support and half as the intern,” You reply with a shrug, “It pays well and it’s pretty easy. Half of the IT support comes in the form of telling the lawyers to restart their computers for software updates. It’s so funny, you should see their amazed faces when all it takes is a fuckin’ restart. Makes a girl feel smart as hell.”

“Smart and pretty, huh?” Jungkook says with a crooked grin, “Where you been all my life, Cherries?”

“Shut up,” You say flatly, levelling him with a glare that only makes him smirk even wider at you.

“Cute,” He breathes with so much conviction that it almost makes you flustered. You clutch your bag of food a little tighter to ground yourself. 

“Me telling you to shut up is cute?” You raise both your eyebrows, eager to shield him from the heat in your cheeks.

“Among many other things, Cherries.”

“Share with the class then…”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Shut up, and why do you like calling me cherries so much,” You complain, lips jutted out in a pout, “I only wore that top once and now look. You’re referring to me as a delectable, juicy fruit. I mean I don’t blame you-”

“Cherries are my favorite,” Jungkook says, dark eyes swirling with stars. He unnerves you with his raw honesty and sincerity and he lets the implication of his words hang in between you both, your eyes wide by his statement. 

“Well, your taste is questionable because mangoes are very obviously superior-”

You both share a laugh and you’re pleasantly surprised by how the silence that comfortably falls isn’t awkward when you deflect. His name is called shortly after, breaking his intense stare. 

You let out a huff, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Hey, I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook says, pushing the door open for you to exit the shop.

“You have a car on campus?” You say, unable to hold back the awe in your voice, “That’s awesome. And uh, no, I mean, you really don’t have to, it’s only a fifteen minute walk-”

“It’s a two minute ride,” Jungkook says, “But I mean, if you’re not comfortable, I get it-”

“No, it’s not that,” You say honestly, “I just don’t want to inconvenience you-”

“You’re not, it’s a two minute ride. Now get in,” Jungkook says reassuringly, opening the passenger side door for you. He puts his own bags of food in the backseat before getting into the driver’s side.

You’ve never really been alone with Jungkook, but for some reason it doesn’t feel that strange. It’s easy to keep conversation (really, it’s banter) flowing with him- as if you’ve been friends for the entirety of the last few years of college. As if you hadn’t spent nearly every waking moment thinking of him a certain way.

He’s easy to talk to. It unnerves you, but you roll with it.

“You should come to a practice one of these days,” Jungkook murmurs. You raise an eyebrow. Why would he ask you to come to one of his soccer practices when you had only just started an acquaintance-ship? Isn’t that crossing some sort of friendship line that you both hadn’t approached yet.

It’s months later when you realize that everything Jungkook does and says is because of his kind, golden heart. He’s such a genuine person, sincerity always dripping from his warm, brown eyes. Everything he does, he does with love.

“Thanks for driving me home, Jungkook,” You murmur with a small smile. It makes his heart sputter in his chest and he easily returns it. “Text me when you get home?”

“If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask. Cherries,” Jungkook says smugly and you gasp, affronted. “Text me when you get inside your place.”

“That’s not- I didn’t-” You stammer, sighing, “I already have your number, stupid.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” You mutter, cheeks blazing as you hurry to get out of his car. Which coincidentally smells just like him. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“‘Night, Cherry.”

You roll your eyes but give him a small wave and a smile before entering your building. 

cherries: I’m inside. Drive safe jungkook: you worried about me? cherries: no im worried about your nice car jungkook: uh huh… gonna leave now, text you when i get home? cherries: 👍🏾

It’s about three minutes later (you barely even have time to wash your hands and change into pajamas) before your phone lights up again.

jungkook: im home cherries: me too jungkook: wow you’re funny cherries: pretty and smart too, according to you jungkook: well i wasnt lying 😍 cherries: Uh huhhhhh

You put your phone to the side to put some of the food on your plate, your stomach still rumbling. You turn on the anime you’re currently watching and get cozy on the couch with a glass of wine.

And in the middle of your late dinner, your wine and your show, your phone lights up with texts from Jungkook. It surprises you that he holds the conversation even when you had given him such a dull response. Isn’t he tired of texting you by now?

He keeps you company through your dinner and you barely are even paying attention to the anime you’re watching, only giggling to yourself over Jungkook’s silly texts-

cherries: you’re so distracting, couldnt even finish this episode of fruits basket jungkook: cute cherries: i cant tell u if its cute, i barely watched it bc of you jungkook: no i meant u. Ur cute

Five seconds go by. Then ten. Your face is heated- you’re glad he can’t see you. Maybe you’ll reciprocate someday. But today is not that day.

cherries: shut up

tags: @kookdbean

[cheolbooluvr]

a little clearer

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part of the confession series

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader

genre: mostly fluff, mild angst, university au, volleyball player

word count: 2.2k

warnings: brief mention of an injury, fatigue from nervousness(?)

a/n: another volleyball fic bc i can't help myself askldjalks lowkey a little self-indulgent, but let's be real, when are half my fics not LOL anyways, hope y'all like this one! plz leave feedback, it means the world to me and helps me as a writer!!

tag list (send me an ask if you want to be added for the remainder of the stories) : @ohmygyaaah

my masterlist ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

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seungkwan’s style of confessing: “Should I confess, or should I apologize? In fact, it feels like I’m not going to do well because of the nervousness.”

The air in the gym was stale and quiet, just the way you liked it. Sunlight trickled through the windows at the top of the walls, illuminating dust particles suspended in the air. Eighteen months had passed since you last stepped foot in the gym, or any gym for that matter, since the day you tore your ACL at your last practice for the national team. Following a surgery, physical therapy, and many regular therapy sessions, you found yourself in the university’s auxiliary gym, also known as the one where everyone else goes if you’re not on any of the official school teams. It was hard having to live with the idea that you wouldn’t get to play volleyball competitively anymore. Your therapist suggested looking for clubs, but truthfully, you were nervous. What if you were bad? What if you had forgotten everything?

“I know it must be scary, but take your time. When you feel ready, ease yourself back into it,” your therapist had told you.

You took a deep breath as your footsteps met the unpolished hardwood. Your attention was directed to a boy in the corner who was holding a phone between his shoulder and his cheek while he slipped his shoes on.

“Mingyu, you promised. Vernon said he had a shift at the music store, Jeonghan is out doing lord knows what, Seokmin changed his mind and decided to join the pizza making club, and I can only imagine that Seungcheol is flirting with that barista from the cafe again! I’m the only one here!” He rolled his eyes, huffing as he listened to his friend feed him excuses for the nth time about why he couldn’t make it. “Forget it. Some friends you guys are.” He hung up and aggressively threw his phone onto his gym bag.

Seungkwan didn’t mean it, but his friends had been so supportive of his idea when he pitched the volleyball club to them. They even told him that they’d be the first to sign up, yet here he was in the gym, alone. If nobody showed up, he wouldn’t be able to keep the club going and all hopes of funding for tournaments, much less continuing on with the club, were out of the question.

“Um, hello?”

He quickly turned around and sighed. “Oh, sorry. Did you sign up for the gym today? My club isn’t happening today, so I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Is this the volleyball club?”

“No, the volleyball club is cancelled—” Seungkwan’s face relaxed, his eyebrows raised with curiosity. “Did you say volleyball club?”

You nodded. He quickly walked over to you, grasping your hands in his as his face lit up with excitement.

“Yes. Yes! This is the volleyball club. Are you new? Have you played before?” You could tell how happy he was that you showed up, indicated by his constant talking and mumbling to himself about what drills you should do. The first thing he had you do was serve, something you hadn’t done since the injury. He handed you a ball at which you eyed nervously.

“Watch me,” Seungkwan advised. He hit the ball against the ground a couple times before spinning it in his left hand. His focus shifted to the net back to the ball. One deep breath, a couple steps and a swing later, his serve went right into the middle of the net. A dissatisfactory noise came from his mouth as he shook his head. “That was a warm up…why don’t you try it.”

You did your pre-serve routine: three hits against the ground, 2 spins in your hand, and a quick glance at the net. Inhaling, you tossed the ball up in the air, your left hand tracking it as you brought your right hand back to swing. Your palm made direct contact with the ball, a perfect float serve over the net. Seungkwan’s mouth dropped in surprise as he watched your ball drop on the other side of the court.

“Wow, you’re pretty good!” Seungkwan said. It would be a lie to say seeing you get it over on the first try didn’t make him a little antsy, so he decided to switch gears and try a different drill. He moved the basket of balls to center court. “Okay, now we’re going to try to bump the ball into the basket over there. I’ll show you first, and then you can try. Can you toss me a ball?”

Picking up a ball, you moved in front of him to toss it. He took a couple steps and swung his arms, the ball flying far from the basket he was supposed to get it in. You did your best not to laugh at the pout on his face, his bottom lip jutting out.

He motioned at you with his hand. “Toss me another one.” And toss you did. Again, he failed to get the ball into the basket, but his determination wouldn’t allow him to give up so easily. One after the other, you tossed balls at him, each and every one completely missing the basket. “Do you want to try?”

“Sure,” you replied. You and Seungkwan switched spots. He threw you an easy underhand ball and with a swift motion, you passed it perfectly, the ball forming a rainbow with its trajectory. Thank god for muscle memory, you thought to yourself.

Seungkwan froze as he stared at the basket where your ball landed just seconds ago. “What are you?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“How are you so good?”

“Um—” Before you could answer, the school’s clock tower rang throughout the campus, signaling the new hour.

“Oh, we should probably pack up now.” Seungkwan picked up the rest of the balls while you undid the net, cranking the gears so it lowered enough to unclip it from the poles. Removing one pole from the ground, you made your way to the back of the gym where the gear rack was. Seungkwan followed closely behind with the other pole when he remembered that you two were in the middle of a conversation before the clock struck. “Ah, you never answered my question.”

“What question— Oh. Right, that one. Um, I’m actually on the national team.” Seungkwan nearly dropped the pole on his foot causing you to rush over and grab the other end. “Well, I was.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I mean, I tried to, but you seemed so excited and I didn’t want to ruin anything.” You placed the net on the rack and made your way back to the side of the gym where all of your stuff was.

“Too late,” he mumbled to himself, but you heard him loud and clear. Quickly realizing his attitude towards you was unwarranted, he turned and smiled at you. “But even so, thank you for coming. Without you, we wouldn’t be able to continue on with the club.”

“Of course, it was fun being back on the court again!” You returned a grin, and in that moment, Seungkwan swore something within him started malfunctioning. He turned away to hide any sign of embarrassment from you, placing his shoes in his bag and slipping on his slides.

“Looks like you should be the one coaching me,” he said, a slight nervousness laced in his voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his request. “I’d be more than happy to.”

When you finished packing up, Seungkwan looked at you curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking, but why aren’t you playing for the national team anymore?”

“It’s a long story…”

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“But I can tell you over some food?”

Seungkwan’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Yes!”

———

As the weeks went by, you and Seungkwan quickly became friends and it didn’t take long before you started harboring, dare you say it, a crush on the boy. You had a lot more in common than you expected: an undying love for the Wonder Girls, ordering extra cheese on your dakgalbi, and an unrivaled passion for volleyball. With your help, Seungkwan was able to recruit more players on the team and get his friends to finally show up. You became friends with them pretty quickly, too, their energy being the only thing to keep you going during the school days. They were a rambunctious bunch and oftentimes too loud to the point you would laugh seeing Seungkwan’s nose scrunch in dissatisfaction. The two of you made a great pair of co-captains— you had the technical skills to show them everything they needed, and he had the fire and leadership to get their attention during drills so you could practice for the upcoming tournament. Things were going pretty well it seemed.

Except for today. Throughout practice, there was a complete reversal. The other players’ focus was great, but Seungkwan’s head was clearly elsewhere — he missed serves, couldn’t get passes up, and overall, he just wasn’t fully present. You observed him cautiously, keeping in mind to talk to him after practice when all was done.

The clock chimed, indicating it was the end of practice.

“Good job today, everyone!” You walked over to Seungkwan and placed your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied hastily. Obviously, everything wasn’t okay. For weeks now, he’d been mulling over the conflict in his heart. To everyone else, it was very clear that the chemistry you had with one another was off the charts. The only people who didn’t see it were you two.

“Are you sure?” Your forehead creased with concern. “Our tournament’s soon, and I want to make sure you’re okay. You can tell me anything, Seungkwan.”

And there it was — an arrow through his heart, the last straw, and his kryptonite. He collapsed on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. You quickly ran to his side, taking his hand and placing two fingers on his wrist.

“What are you doing?” he asked weakly.

You didn’t hear his words. No, your brain was preoccupied with his health. You knew Seungkwan always took great care of his body, always taking his vitamins and supplements. “Are you sick?” His pulse was racing and so you placed your hand on his forehead. His body was certainly warm, but it wasn’t due to a fever. Panicked, he sat up quickly, reassuring you that he felt fine. “Seungkwan, if you’re sick, we should take you to the doctor and get checked out.”

“I’m not sick,” he replied, his tone with you firm as he pulled his hand away.

“Then what is it? All practice today, you’ve been out of it and that’s not like you.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Worry washed over you. “Did I do something? Did I push you too hard today? If I did, I’m really sorry. I never meant to—”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?”

“Um,” he hesitated. His mind was racing at high speed as the words in his heart struggled to come out of his mouth. “I have to tell you something.” Seungkwan fidgeted with his hands, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“What is it?”

To anyone else, Seungkwan always seemed to be overflowing with confidence, but inside, he was second-guessing his every word and every move. It was true that he was very popular amongst just about everyone, always breathing life into every room he walked into. And that was why you liked him. He was your energy bar after a long day, and quite frankly, playing volleyball wasn’t even the one thing you were most looking forward to when you walked into the gym. It was him.

“Seungkwan?” you asked again.

Suddenly, the words burst from his mouth like fireworks. “I like you!”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Seungkwan…”

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He quickly grabbed his bag and stood up. “I’m really sorry.”

Before he could take any more steps, you reached out to grab his hand. “Seungkwan, wait!”

He turned around, his eyes still avoiding yours. He knew this was a big mistake and now he had just put your entire friendship on the line. For what? All because he couldn’t contain the feeling inside his heart? Because every time he looked at you, the sun shone a little brighter, the music in his ears was a little louder, and his purpose in life became a little clearer. Scratch that, it became a lot clearer. He liked you, and there was no way he could deny it any longer. And hey, maybe even if you rejected him, maybe you could still be friends…after he had some time to get over the heartbreak.

“Seungkwan,” you repeated yourself. His name rolled off your tongue with a lot more ease than you ever expected, but when you like someone, that’s just how it goes, doesn’t it? “I like you, too.”

It was his turn to be surprised—in fact, he was so surprised, his legs gave out from under him. Luckily, your grip on his hand was tight and you were able to support him. Kind of.

“Are you okay?”

“Okay?” Seungkwan repeated your words as if he didn’t hear you clearly. “I’m more than okay.” His bright smile was enough to reassure you that he really was okay. It was all a lot to take in, but you were happy that you were doing it together.