#obviously I don’t know any of these people

[awrkive]

tlp jk is def the type to absolutely sob when he sees oc walk down the aisle/when he’s trying to propose to her and it maybe just me but I feel like after that one year anniversary he’s like I’m wifing this girl DOWNN cause I feel like he lich has the ring and everyth ready to go he’s waiting he’s prepped 😭

here it is!!! #thee proposal drabble this is literally the cutest thing ever i wish love was real 😖🥹 hope u enj!!!!!!!!!!

summary: in which jungkook proposes and it doesn't start off well

w/c: 3.7k

warning/s: tlp couple is extremely in love that is a warning. they're also cry babies. listen to something by the beatles for the major feels 😔

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, matching your pace. “Are we really fighting right now?” 

“No.” Is your stern response, continuing your quick steps without even bothering to look back at him. 

“I guess we are fighting right now.” Jungkook mumbles to himself, taking two big strides so he can finally catch up with you. 

You don’t pay him any attention when he slides his arm around your waist while the other holds the bag of large popcorn you bought a while ago, leaning down to kiss the side of your head. Jungkook doesn’t even care about the people passing by around the cinema; they have lives to care about on their own – he can kiss his girlfriend wherever and whenever he wants. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers in your hair, enough for only you to hear. 

There’s a crease on your forehead that hasn’t ceased ever since you left the restaurant you had your dinner at. But after a few beats, you let out a sigh. 

“I just really wanted to see the movie in IMAX.” you lament, and Jungkook feels bad. He really does. 

“I know, baby, I really am sorry,” he apologizes once again. “We can see it tomorro—” but he realizes you both have a full-time shift, so he opts for, “–next week?” 

“Jungkook, the screening ends in the next two days.” you say, tone bordering on annoyed now. You reel it back in, gently saying, “I just– I told you to hurry up earlier, but you kept on changing your hair even though– you know what, forget about it. Which cinema were we in, again?” 

Jungkook’s nerves begin to kick in, because you look like you’re genuinely upset now. He can tell it by the tone of your voice, the disappointment and the simmering irritation of having to deal with the situation. You don’t get angry often – no scratch that, you don’t get angry at all. However, it does come in withdrawal-like gestures and behavior – like now. 

And again, Jungkook really does feel bad for having to do what he did earlier. You weren’t able to purchase tickets online so you had to make do with buying on the actual booth – and because Jungkook took way too long in the comfort room of the restaurant fixing his hair, you arrived at the cinema way too late and the tickets for the last IMAX screening of the night ran out. It left you with no choice but to go with the regular one instead, and needless to say, you’re not at all that happy about that. 

Well, shit. Jungkook thinks. This date is not going well at all. The waitress at the restaurant you ate at a while ago openly flirted with him on your table and he was too stunned to do something that you had to tell her off by yourself. That had obviously taken a hit on your mood, and the cinema thing just kind of maybe amplified it and Jungkook thinks he’s beginning to get fucked.

“I’ll make up it up to you, baby–” 

“The tickets, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook purses his lips into a thin line and gives them to you.

You walk alongside each other quietly, but Jungkook doesn’t let go of your waist while you head towards the dark and quiet hallway, leading to the seats. You don’t pry his hand off so maybe – maybe – that’s a good thing. 

But god, this night isn’t going well like he wanted it to be. Suddenly, he’s nervous again. More nervous that he was in the shower awhile ago when you were still prepping for the date back at home. He’s anxious about fucking the whole thing up, and sure, he could trust his track record of never fucking up when it comes to doing big things in his life, but this is different. This will be different. And he’s just so fucking scared that he checks on his watch again. 

8:22pm. 

Eight minutes before the movie starts in your cinema. And eight minutes more before the–

“Jungkook,” You call him, and he’s just in the middle of pushing the seat down for you when you do so. He looks at you. Confused, you ask, “Do you have somewhere to go?” 

“Huh?”

“You keep on looking at your watch. You have been since we were at the restaurant.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he’s thankful there’s barely any lights in the hall.

“I– no. No.” He shakes his head, placing down the bag of popcorn in the middle and takes your hand instead, interlocking your fingers. “I’m sorry, did I keep doing that?” He asks consciously.

He’s really fucking this up, and you’re noticing it. 

“Yes, it’s bothering me a little,” You shuffle in your seat a little, facing Jungkook. Softly, you ask, “Do you wanna go home? We can ditch the movie. I’m sorry for being a dickhead the whole night. It’s not an excuse but I really wanted to watch this movie in IMAX… but it’s fine. I’m not mad at you. I’m just in a… mood. And I know I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry. I’m being so unappreciative over here – I know you were supposed to work on your research–”

“Hey,” Jungkook stops you before you can even finish that. “No, baby. This is our date. I don’t wanna go home yet and I’m genuinely really sorry for missing the IMAX screening.” He’d add he didn’t mean to take long in the comfort room earlier… but that would be a lie. He intended to do that so you can both arrive here on time like planned. 

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Still… I’m sorry for being a little bitch.” 

“Not true. You’re an angel.” Jungkook says and brings your interlocked hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Love you.” 

You frown. “Love you too.” 

That earns you a hearty chuckle from him. “I love you more.” 

“Not that again.” You sigh, turning sideways to look ahead on the screen but not breaking away from his hold. 

Jungkook contains his smile as his gaze falls to the big screen as well, nerves crumbling down a little at the exchange. You’re the only person who can make him nervous but the only one who can take it away at the same time. 

“Huh,” you utter suddenly in the middle of some trailer playing. “It’s so weird there’s only a few people here.”

At that, Jungkook’s heart rate picks up a bit. “Y-yeah? Well, it’s late at night.” 

“Fair.” 

“And this movie’s not really new, right? Just an anniversary screening thing.” Jungkook continues to add, as if determined to justify your claim. 

You nod. “I guess you’re right.” 

“Yep.” 

His phone lights up and you’re busy sipping on your drink so Jungkook takes that as an opportunity to check the messages he received.

tae [8:28pm]: starting in 2

tae [8:28pm]: good luck buddy

Jungkook swipes his tongue over his lips – a nervous habit – quickly turning it off and pocketing the device. He places his arm on the arm rest and taps his fingers on the plastic surface anxiously. 

It feels like there’s a ticking clock above his head when the trailer finally ends, because he knows the thing should start rolling. 

And Jungkook swears he’s prepared for this for so many weeks. Months for the matter. It’s now May and the ring has been bought since February. What was once tucked away from the depths of his closet is now snugged in the pockets of his trouser, deep enough that you couldn’t pinpoint the bulging outline of the box.

Jungkook originally planned for you both to be out of the country when he does it. But things got really hectic at the hospital and while he personally could’ve still taken a leave, you couldn’t. Jungkook brought up the idea of vacationing a little, “Just for a week,”, he said, but then you sadly told him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to and he understood that greatly. He’s in the same line of work, after all. 

So, with what seemed to be the nth deliberation with Doyeon, Taehyung, and Nayeon, he ultimately decided on this set-up. You know; trick you into going to the mall with him so you can pass by the cinema and he successfully executes the proposal seamlessly. But obviously, it didn’t go as smoothly as that.

After your dinner, you impulsively decided that you wanted to watch a movie in IMAX, but it starts at exactly as Jungkook’s proposal, and so he had to compromise a little bit; the admittedly poor (but effective) solution coming in the form of intentionally staying a little longer in the comfort room of the restaurant just so you two would be lat. 

And Jungkook swears it’s for a good reason! Because everything’s prepped and ready to roll and he can’t have himself waste another perfect opportunity. He remembers almost popping the question three months ago, two months ago, month ago, few weeks ago and heck, even last night – but he’d always get cold feet and think the time wasn’t right. 

Right now, though, is different. 

And he wants it so badly to be different.

Good thing you settled things quickly. Now that his being late is past you, he can be a little more confident in what he’s about to do. 

The next trailer shows up and Jungkook sits upright, knowing what’s coming. He has it memorized, down to each frame. He was the one who edited it, after all, a product of his humble multimedia skills, that is. Jungkook could’ve gone to a professional but he really wanted to do it himself, scared they wouldn’t be able to tell you what he wanted to. And so he did. The gang also told him that it would be better if he did it himself.

And now he’s showing it to you – you, who’s completely clueless beside him. 

It starts as a bit of a misdirect. There’s an intro from a famous movie studio, and a scene from a real movie – and so of course you don’t suspect anything, as Jungkook could say from his peripheral view.

Suddenly, the screen goes black. It causes a pregnant pause, stretched to exactly five seconds (again, Jungkook edited that), and then, a familiar clip suddenly plays. 

It’s a video of you taken from Jungkook’s camcorder back in med school. First year, around the second semester. You were at Moon’s Printing Shop and you were looking down at your notes when Jungkook, behind the camera, called your name. 

You looked up, hair messy from an all-nighter study but Jungkook’s certain the Jungkook behind the scene was still thinking you were the prettiest girl he’s ever seen just like he’s thinking now. 

“Who would you wanna be if you were given the chance to be somebody else in your next life?” 

You grimace. “Hopefully, still me.” 

“So boring,” Jungkook exaggerated, his laughter reverberating in the hall of the theater. “Be serious.” 

You looked flustered in the video. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna be somebody else.” 

In his seat, Jungkook feels the real you sitting beside him tugging at your enclosed hands together, so he looks at you. 

“Jungkook, what is this?” You say, evidently unaware of what’s currently happening, your brows furrowed in that cute confusion. 

“Just something I’ve been working on for the past three months.” he smiles, bringing your hands together to his lips again. He just couldn’t stop kissing and touching you even if he tries.

You stare at him with your mouth agape, but you don’t say anything else, your gaze falling back to the screen once again. 

“Okay, since you don’t wanna play this game I wanna be Darth Vader.” Jungkook said in the video. 

“What? The evil guy from Star Wars?” You frowned. “That’s not… hmm… okay. I guess I wanna be… Spongebob, then.” 

“Oh. Wow. Interesting. Alright, Darth Vader’s out. I wanna be Patrick instead.” 

“I like that. So we’ll still be bestfriends, right?” 

“Yeah. And I still get to stress you out even in the next life.” 

That made you laugh, the warm burst of laughter filling the hall which makes Jungkook’s lips curl up as he watches the screen. He can never get tired of it; your smile, your laugh, your face as it lights up. There’s something so incredibly angelic about you he sometimes thinks you’re not human at all. Or maybe just part-human… nonetheless, he feels grateful. For literally everything. 

Something in the way she moves…

The video transitions to another reel of you taken by Jungkook while The Beatles’ Something plays in the background. 

"Oh my god..." Jungkook hears you gasp beside him, but he doesn't allow himself to break just yet. Instead, he tightens his grip on your hand, feeling your response as you hold on just as firmly.

The screen continues to show candid moments of you from med school. All recorded and taken by Jungkook; the trips you took during that time, that rave party you went to where you got extremely drunk – and when that showed up, you giggled beside him and said, “I told you to delete that.”, which he just laughed at. 

Later on, the clips got more recent, you in your lilac dress and Jungkook’s white tux… it was a video of you dancing in Nayeon’s wedding. 

“W-wha–… I didn’t – who took that?” You whisper, sounding in awe. 

“Nayeon was apparently recording from the stage at that time.” Jungkook says, looking at you and smiling when he sees that you have your eyes glued to the screen. 

“This is so…” you trail off, but you don’t really say anything in continuation. 

Recent videos of you play, capturing moments from the two years you’ve been together. There’s that clip in Vienna, a few in Florence, Paris, Melbourne... It’s surreal to think that he captured those memories, never imagining they’d be used for something like this. 

Something in the way she knows

And all I have to do is think of her

Something in the things she shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

The song fades to an end and so did the compilation of your videos. The screen shows Jungkook this time instead. He leaned towards the camera, checked the optics, and then smiled a little. From the background, you know it was taken by the wall of his room, near the window because you can see the Sanrio plushie you put on the table beside there. It’s a little out of frame but you can still recognize it. 

Then, he spoke. 

“Uhm, hi,” He started, and you hold your breath, feeling like you’re on the edge of your seat but not in that anxious way. “I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I’m thinking of doing this video… for my proposal – and ah, my proposal – wait, I really should’ve written a script for this but I wanted this to be natural as much as possible and I’m going off-track so we’ll move on to what I really wanna say,” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, and you hear Jungkook joining in with you. 

“__, you’re the love of my life. You’re my lover, but you’re my best friend most of all. I look back on the times we’ve spent together – a decade. There was no time in those years that I didn’t thank my lucky stars for knowing and meeting you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I really hope you know how much I love you because no matter how hard I try to put it into action and words, no amount of it would tell you how I truly feel.” A pause. Then he took out something from his pocket. Raising his hand, a red velvet box appeared in the frame. He was about to open it when suddenly, your voice is heard behind the camera. 

“Jungkook?” 

Jungkook quickly pocketed the box, and the camera shook a little, the angle now distorted, probably due to his panic upon hearing your voice. 

“Yes, baby?” The audio played. 

“You were doing something?” 

“Nah. Just trying out my new camera.” Jungkook said. 

“Oh. Lemme see.” 

The camera got picked up, and Jungkook switched the camera to you.

In your seat, you nibble on your bottom lip upon seeing your own face this time, a poor attempt to stop your jaw from breaking apart because you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling watching the whole thing. 

“Pretty girl.” You hear Jungkook say behind the recorder. His hand came up to caress your face in the video, thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I love you.” 

You looked confused at first but then you told him, anyway, “I love you too.” 

You leaned down, and the video gets switched out to another one of Jungkook on a different day. 

“Sorry the video got interrupted by my gorgeous girlfriend.”

You both laugh at that, and as if on cue, your eyes meet – silently acknowledging that you’re thinking the same thing. In that shared glance, it's clear you both understand how things escalated in that moment, that night – how that kiss turned into something more.

“I just wanted to say that, uh, I love her. No, you, I’m talking to you–” He sighed in the clip, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway. I love you. I love you so much, baby. More than anything else in the world. I feel like I don’t say it enough although Taehyung teases me about convulsing if I can’t say it to you for no longer than five minutes – he’s probably right but that’s not the point. What I wanna say is – again – is that, I love you, __. And I want to spend the rest of my lifetime with you. I wanna grow old with you. Spend every day and every night with you. I want us to wake up together every morning, make our breakfast together, go to work together, do laundry together, our taxes – man, I don’t know. Anything. I just want to do anything and everything with you. Maybe adopt a dog in the near future, if you want to, that is. You’re probably gonna be watching this in the theater by this moment – god I hope I don’t fuck the whole thing up, the gang is gonna be so pissed – but I’ll drop the question for you and I know we already talked about it many times before and two months ago you said you were ready if I was also ready. I couldn’t tell you I’ve been ready since the first week we started dating. But I hope… what you felt two months ago is still what you feel right now…” 

Then, the big screen fades to black, and suddenly, a few lights in the hall flicker on, illuminating Jungkook—now on his knees. In his hand is a red velvet box, now open, revealing a stunning ring that’s so beautiful it leaves your jaw slack.

He clears his throat. “__, you’re my best friend. Have been and always will be. You’re my home, my partner. I will love you for as long as you let me and–” Jungkook doesn’t mean it but there’s suddenly a lump in his throat that forms along the way and he has to choke it back, making his voice crack a little bit as he looks into your eyes. “– and I really want to live all my remaining years with you and be yours forever.” He bites his lip, looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so much. Then, the question comes, “Can I be your husband?” 

“Jungkook…” You look down at him, your mouth opening and closing, lost for words. You’ve passed the point of holding back tears, and when your eyes meet his—so full of sincerity and revere—you completely break. “Y-yes. Yes! One hundred percent yes,” you manage to say through your sobs, nodding fervently as your vision blurs from the tears streaming down your face.

As soon as you say that, all the lights in the room turn on and there’s a holler from the direction of the projection room that you can’t help but look at. 

“Congrats!” 

You gasp as you see Doyeon and Nayeon. They’re both waving at you with huge grins on their faces. Genuinely surprised and confused at the same time, you start to look around, and suddenly, you realize that everybody is literally… your family. Taehyung, your dad, your mom, your sister and Seokjin all occupy the front rows, and in front of them are Jungkook’s own family as well. From afar, you see Jungkook’s father coming up to give your dad a hug which he reciprocates as they laugh together. 

Your eyes are drawn back to Jungkook. 

“Jungkook… they’re all here,” you say, struggling to hold back the onslaught of tears. They won’t stop.

And at this point, Jungkook can’t help it. Not anymore. He sees you crying and he can’t help but do it as well. He sniffs, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm.

“Yes, baby. Everybody is here.”

“Baby, why are you crying?” You ask him despite yourself.

Jungkook chuckles in between his tears, swiping a hand on his eyes. “I’m just so happy. You make me so happy. Thank you. Thank you for saying yes.”

That makes you cry even more, earning another laugh from Jungkook but it’s filled with endearment. Slowly, he takes your hand and you watch teary-eyed as he finally inserts the ring around your ring finger. 

The diamond-encrusted band, with a larger diamond glimmering in the center, fits perfectly around your finger. You stare at it in awe, admiring how gorgeous it looks—trying to recall a time when Jungkook measured your finger to make it fit so flawlessly. But you can't remember, and you don't mind at all, instead looking up at him as he stands to his feet.

"I love you, Jungkook. I really do," you say with all the sincerity in your heart, hoping he knows as much.

"I can't wait to marry you," he replies, his voice full of emotion before he pulls you into his arms and leans down to kiss you gently on the lips. It’s soft and it’s sweet just like the love he’s given you all these years.

A cheer erupts around you, and normally, you'd feel shy about kissing in front of your family. But this time, you don’t feel embarrassed at all.

It’s just you and Jungkook. Bound for a lifetime of unadulterated love.

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks. 

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling. 

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him. 

“I can’t,” you say. 

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.” 

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.” 

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat. 

“James…” 

“Just hit me,” he says. 

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage. 

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to hit you, James.” 

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.” 

“I’d rather not, though.” 

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.” 

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.” 

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.” 

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm. 

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest. 

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!” 

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.” 

“I am not punching you in the face.” 

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say. 

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple. 

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests. 

You relax. 

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.” 

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two. 

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority. 

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.” 

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined. 

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.” 

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint. 

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?” 

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.” 

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?” 

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.” 

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.” 

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift. 

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy. 

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses. 

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?” 

“I need stuff.” 

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.” 

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.” 

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance. 

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny. 

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does. 

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?” 

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.” 

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.” 

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…” 

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there. 

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them. 

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise. 

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.” 

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.” 

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.” 

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour. 

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?” 

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?” 

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.” 

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before. 

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.” 

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues. 

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns. 

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says. 

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.” 

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.” 

“Maybe next time,” you appease. 

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks. 

You laugh. “She was nice.” 

“Very motherly.” 

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?” 

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.” 

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.” 

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?” 

“No! When?” 

“The third.” 

“What does he like?” 

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.” 

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.” 

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely. 

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction. 

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door. 

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.” 

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.” 

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly. 

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years. 

“How exhausting,” you’d said. 

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.” 

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames. 

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot? 

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork. 

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat. 

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” you ask softly. 

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?” 

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending. 

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?” 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.” 

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it. 

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously. 

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?” 

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask. 

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.” 

“Sorry.” 

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?” 

“I’ll just be in your way.” 

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.” 

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.” 

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly. 

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”  

“I resent that!” James calls. 

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one. 

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.” 

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.” 

“We’re both fine,” you say. 

“Were you worried about us?” James asks. 

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk. 

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company. 

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real. 

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths. 

“Bit my tongue,” you say. 

“Ouch,” Remus says. 

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually. 

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down. 

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.” 

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased. 

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.” 

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.” 

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.” 

“And the rest,” James snorts. 

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself. 

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask. 

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.” 

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?” 

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask. 

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country. 

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood. 

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.” 

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says. 

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.” 

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask. 

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.” 

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.” 

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly. 

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.” 

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead. 

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Of course.” 

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise. 

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.” 

He’s angry. 

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.” 

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.” 

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones. 

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner. 

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

(The Prologue)

Fall Of Girl Wonder

Summary: Your Damian’s Twin Sister who arrived 3 years after your brother, because of your late arrival you’re never excepted to become Robin, until your brother runs away and you volunteer to take his place in his absence, things are going well until Damian returns and you are thrown under the bus completely by being told you can’t be Robin anymore, after bottling up your anger you decide to go solo by running away and stealing a Batgirl costume. But you’re not alone, your sort of boyfriend joins you; which would be okay if it wasn’t your brother’s best friend of all people.

Pairings: Batfam x Batsis (platonic), Jon Kent x reader (romantic). Very bittersweet tbh, you love your bf but you’re also proving your worth to your family.

Notes: Reader and Damian are very on and off but do love each other ofc. (they only really had one another growing up in the league) To clear things up Bruce has a genuine reason for discharging reader of the Robin mantle but that’s an epilogue thing I fear, Reader is 16 so is Jon. I’d give this series maybe a 15+ rating as there will be be some heavy topics involved and some “problematic” language icl. Reader also is closest with Cass and Jason specifically, all of this isn’t at all comic book accurate but does include elements from the comics. (Also very fanony when it’s comes to the Batfam and Superfam) (I don’t own any of the characters this is fan-fiction 💙)

Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks, Damian runs away from home for a bit. Unless count Bruce being a semi shitty father then not a lot of warnings tbh. This is just the epilogue we haven’t even got to the real drama yet. 👏

Words: 1.4k

6 months, 2 weeks and 3 days. That’s how long you’ve held the Robin mantle, you trained none stop before even having volunteered for it. You wondered what your plan even was, as long as Damian had it you couldn’t. Then he ran away and it was all too convenient, you got the mask, the gloves and the cute boy. Were you worried about Damian? Obviously, you had panic attacks about it mid patrol, which meant whatever member of your family that was unlucky enough to be awake at that time, had to take your shift. You knew Barbara and Tim would track him eventually and were doing everything in their power, but that didn’t ease your worry, you even considered alerting your mother but you knew if she got wind of this she would force you to come back with her for your own safety, and you didn’t feel like going to back the small, sad, isolated girl you were before.

You had also gotten closer to Jon Kent, a best friend of your brother. In truth, you were lovesick, so is he. But it came as a bit of bittersweet shock to you both that over your course of searching for Damian you had given up along the way and became invested in one another. Eventually it become so much more than just a mutual love for Damian, soon the Damian questions become You questions. Things progressed quickly, it went from “Do you think my brother’s close by?” to “My dad and siblings aren’t home, do you wanna come over?” He makes it over every time, Alfred knows and you know that he knows. You begged him not to tell your father or anyone for that matter, he respected your decision to wait for the right time but would occasionally come in asking if you wanted anything. (You know it’s a ploy to check on you two) Clark and Lois 100% know and they approve but have been sworn to secrecy by you, you weren’t ashamed; of course not. It’s just that if you told even just one of your siblings, knowing them they would spill and accidentally tell another one of your siblings until the cycle continues and eventually reaches Damian. Though you were sure Cass already knew and you suspected Jason was catching on, but you weren’t even surprised that he was beginning to find out. He knew you well, after a good three years spending time and training with him and his group of people it became hard to keep secrets, although your weird duo did start off as a result of you being upset and jealous of Damian’s close relationship with Dick, your sure you’d still pick being Jason’s dysfunctional- unofficial sidekick.

As for Cass you knew there was a mutual appreciation for the fact you were both less outnumbered in terms of Bruce’s female children, sure Barbara was like an old sister to you and she always supported you over the com line on missions. But it wasn’t the same as having an actual sister, but it was unusual to call any of them your siblings, not just Cass. It took a while but the first time you remember calling one of them your brother or sister was when Dick had to come all the way and pick you up from school because of a “skiing accident” with your father, you knew immediately something must of happened because Alfred was always on time to get you, So when Dick came along you told your teacher your brother was here to pick you up instead, she waved you goodbye and as your entered the car you noticed the slight grin of his face, looking like he wanted to tease you, but knowing you weren’t like Damian and wouldn’t even deny accepting him as a brother. You adapted much quicker than Damian, even if you have to get used to having 5 more siblings from now. (Yes I included Duke. <3)

It was the start of Christmas month and you were just doing your rounds with Stephanie and Barbara around the mall, Steph had gotten distracted a couple of times whilst window shopping but you and Barb managed to tug her along. You were nervous as your 16th birthday was also approaching, Jon had already turned 16 and you got to see him on his birthday; by masking it as going on patrol. It was fun but the question was popped at the party on when you were planning on telling your family about your relationship, you tensed up but luckily Lois took your side and encouraged you to tell Bruce and the rest when you were ready. This is why you like her. But right now you couldn’t think of that, you had to look for a present for Jon without being suspected.

Luckily Barbara had gone in the nearby cafe to get you guys some drinks, but that still left you with Steph. Maybe if you played it calm she wouldn’t even notice, so you started searching around looking at stuff and you thought you were safe. “Whatchu got there?” She bubbled, you took about a 5 foot jump backwards before blushing intensely. “Nothing?” You said calmly whilst shoving the item back on the shelf, she put her hand on her chin as if she was inspecting you. “Sooo who’s the lucky guy then? Or girl.” She smirked, “There’s no use lying is there?” You asked, “Absolutely not, so spill.” She leaned in and studied your face, “I can’t tell you who, but I’ve been seeing someone and before you ask I’m not in any trouble.” You confess, she shrugs as if wanting to ask more but Barbara called out to you both drinks in hand, you swiftly looked back at Steph just for her to do a zipping motion with her lips, which satisfied you enough. “What have I missed?” Barb asked, you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in and spoke up. “Well I was just wondering-“ You were cut of by a notification sound on Barbara’s phone, “We need to get back to the manor, now.” She said without a hint of warmth in her voice. What has happened now? You had quickly all changed into costume excepting the worst.

——————————

You hastily made you way through the manor, Steph and Barbara in tow. Tim was waiting at the entrance to the kitchen and he tried to stop you, “Hey-don’t go in yet-“ you shrugged him off and continued on and Barbara eyed him suspiciously. You wished that you had waited, you weren’t prepared to see your newly found twin brother sitting on one of the stools with an ice pack above his brow, deep cuts layered across his arms and bruises across his neck. He must of put up a good fight against whichever one of your siblings found him, you assumed it was Dick as he was in costume and had slashes of his own. Alfred sat next to him tending to his wounds whilst your father was stood next to him checking out the marks Alfred wasn’t attending to, the room had now fell silent as everyone had now realised how awkward it was for Damian to see his twin sister in a Robin get up, this is the worst. You simply only stared into each others matching green eyes until you made the first move and ran over collapsed into him giving him a bone crushing hug, he sat all tensed up before slowly returning the hug. “I’m sorry brother-I-I just.” Tears welled down your face before you threw off your mask and let it land on the other side of the room, you had never felt so relieved and guilty at the same time.

——————————

That night you stayed with your brother as long as possible, you had so many questions but right now you just wanted to embrace his return. Since it was an uncomfortable situation for everyone, most of the family decided to stay the night. You had crossed paths with Jason mid kitchen trip and he checked in on you first, but you couldn’t pin why it felt like he was holding something in. “You know you could forget all about this Girl Wonder thing and just join me like old times.” He proposed, you looked at him puzzled. “By old times you mean a couple months ago? Also why are you asking me this? did something happen?” You questioned but watched as he couldn’t meet your gaze, “Bruce wants to see you downstairs, but you don’t have to go-“ “Okay fair enough, I’ll go see him now.” You interrupted and walked past him and ignored his muffled rejections as you were now approaching the main office.

You should have listened to Jason, you should have gone with him. You’d regret not listening to him.

————————————

“Good news, you can put away the Robin costume for good now.”

————————————

Taglist: @waterwyne @venusmorning

(Part 1 is out!)

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello sex witch. I have a conundrum

I don’t have sex, I have never had sex, and I don’t ever plan on having any sex. With that in mind, how do I know when to start going to an obgyn? I was always told to start going when you first have sex, but I’m not doing that, and I’m sure I’ll have to start going at SOME point

For reference I’m 20 now, soon turning 21, and I’m transmasc

hi anon,

great news: in the US, at least, the general wisdom is to start seeing a gynecologist for regular checkups either when you become sexually active or once you're 21. so it's time to book that birthday visit!

make sure to express to your healthcare provider that you have no particular plans to be sexually active, as it may impact how regularly they want to check in with you in the future. while there are some general guidelines for how often people ought to see their gyno, you will obviously have different care needs than, say, someone who's regularly having a lot of sex with different partners, and it's possible you'll be able to responsibly go much longer between checkups, get the okay to skip on Pap smears thanks to a low risk of HPV, and otherwise get care tailored to suit your circumstances.

[soodoonimin]

I feel like for Laura the reason she’d like Worst Wolvie so much isn’t because he reminded her of her Logan but because he didn’t pretend to miss a Logan he didn’t know.

See because the timelines and universes are all fucky, my HC is that 10005 doesn’t have a Logan of its own but the that Logan (2017) was only known by Wade bc obviously and maybe the X-men because they had some dealings with the multiverse as well. And basically the idea of “The Wolverine” is what people idolize more than the actual man.

So when Laura goes to live in the X-mansion she has a hard time coping with the fact that none of the X-men actually knew Logan. None of them actually met him. None of them knew his real name was James or that he talked in sleep, or that he was a sad alcoholic who wanted nothing more than to die in his last years but they all talk about him like he was this BIG HERO. This savior of a world, this bastion of virtue etc etc. And it hurts her that these strangers are talking about her dad like they knew him when all they knew was the stories told through a filter of heroism.

And yeah sure her dad was a hero in some respects but he was also a person, just like her and hurts that even in death he loses his humanity (even though it’s not necessarily negative this time).

What’s worse is when they ask her if she’s proud of him for dying like he did. Or worse, do you think he’d be proud of you for helping a version of himself?

So I think she like Worst Wolvie because he doesn’t have any kind of pretense of what a Logan should be. And because yeah he doesn’t remind her of her dad because in some ways he is but he doesn’t pretend to know her, he tries to get to know her and sometimes it makes her sad that he doesn’t know things but at least he’s not pretending.

And more importantly he doesn’t pretend he knows anything about her dad and so when asks: Do you think he’d be proud of you?

She doesn’t feel angry and or awkward and actually she feel comfortable enough that she cries a little bit (probably the first time she’s cried in front of someone since her dad died) and says “I don’t know.”

She doesn’t know what she expects but when Worst Wolvie says (after a little while), “I think you do.”

It almost sounds like her dad and it only makes her cry more but not because she’s sad but because for the first time since her dad died she thinks he might be right and damn does it feel good to cry.

Worst Wolvie might not ever replace her dad but he doesn’t pretend to have known him and over time (because remember they’re going to live a long time) he might even get to know her well enough that she might not remember the difference between the two Logans. It would almost be like the universe giving them both a second chance at having a family. And she hasn’t decided if that’s sad or not yet but in time maybe she’ll have a dad to help her figure it out.

[mattluvr]

CEO!matt, a concept.

💸 what if. . . matt sturniolo was CEO of a company?

at the grand old age of 21, matt sturniolo is the world’s youngest CEO, having inherited his father’s finance company in light of his untimely retirement.

he doesn’t complain; matt has a team of seniors to make his decisions for him, the only thing he insists on chipping in on every year being the annual christmas party. which, naturally, is infamous. it’s what most of the company’s budget gets blown on after all.

in his third year as the owner of sturniolo finances, income in the billions as the company thrived, matt threw the biggest, loudest, craziest christmas party of what he was sure was history, the entire floor of a fancy hotel packed with employees.

and some stragglers. including you.

your brother had dragged you along, overly excited about the first sturniolo finances christmas party of his employment, and had swiftly got drunk and left you to stand like a lemon by the drinks table. which is where matt found you, words slurring from one too many tequila shots, appointing you his newest secretary. one of the only decisions he’s made for the company.

and today is the day you start your new role, which matt obviously can’t remember offering you, but lets you sit at the desk outside his office, head still pounding from the party over a week ago.

“are you sure i gave you this job?” he mutters, running a hand over his face. you nod, tucking a loose strand of your bun behind your ear, hoping you’re still retaining the sophisticated look you tried to construct this morning when getting ready.

“mhm. at that party.”

“yeah, but i did a lot of things at that party.” matt says with a grimace. “like swing from a chandelier…”

you laugh, reminded of the last image you saw before you left the hotel, supporting a tipsy brother on your hip, matt dangling from the structure above you with one arm, hair messy and shirt loose. “that was pretty funny. and impressive.”

“thank you. but not the point.” he frowns, folding his arms, trying to act serious. “i don’t even think i’ve given you any paperwork to fill out. shit, i’ve not even interviewed you.”

“well, you’re the CEO, aren’t you? you can just interview me now.”

matt furrows his brows again, eyes darting to his office behind him and eventually gives in, opening the door for you with a shrug. he often doesn’t interact with any of the people he employs, the whole process too mindnumbingly boring for him, but is now starting to realise why drunk him even offered you a job position in the first place.

you’re fucking unreal, mini skirt a tad too short, shirt just slightly too low cut, and matt is drinking it all in. professionally. of course. he clears his throat, dragging his eyes back to your face with a soft blush as he gestures to the empty room. “take a seat.”

you smirk at him over your shoulder, sitting down heavily in the armchair facing matt’s desk, your skirt riding up as you cross your legs, thighs on display. matt rolls his neck; you’re trying to kill him, he swears. he follows you over nevertheless, sitting opposite and offering you a polite smile.

when your dimple shows in reply, matt doesn’t even think about the interview. “yeah, i don’t know why i did all that. you’re hired.”

“but…?”

matt holds out a hand. he knows this is a bad decision, hiring based off of physical attraction only, but that’s the last thing on his mind. he just wants you out before he blows a load in his underwear, semi poking him each time he shifts.

“you can start tomorrow morning, 8am. i’ll email the paperwork down to reception.”

shocked, you slowly stand up, and matt leans forwards, concealing a groan into his hand. “uh, well, thanks. i’ll… see you tomorrow.”

“mhm.” matt nods, grinning weakly. “yep, tomorrow.”

and then you’re gone, leaving matt alone with his thoughts. fuck. hiring you? he’s screwed.

taglist. . . ( @mattslolita, @aelinslegend, @chrissturniolossidehoe, @mattbrainrot, @conspiracy-ash, @emely9274 ) is open!

[avelera]

Something something… through Viktor’s actions we see his possible linear mental checklist of his goals in life, and those goals included eventually confessing his feelings to Jayce, but before he did he felt he needed to do other things first. Namely:

1) Make Hextech a reality - Check. Viktor and Jayce actually achieved this one by 1.04. They could continue to refine forever but you can tell they both felt a sense of accomplishment in this.

2) Give Hextech to the people - Incomplete. At the end of S1 they had the refined Hextech crystals but the full benefits of their work had not reached the masses. Nor would it/should it ever.

3) Help the Undercity - incomplete, arguably completely unaddressed or even undermined by their work. The Hexgates drew Piltover’s attention away from the Undercity, which is why it languished while Piltover looked to distant markets. Hextech materially made life worse for the Undercity, as the alternate timeline showed us.

4) Hextech innovations lead to a cure for Viktor’s disease and disability - Successful but in the most horrifying way possible, including a body count.

5) Profit - Confess his feelings to Jayce.

(Don’t get too hung up on the order here because obviously a lot of these things could happen concurrently and I don’t think Viktor is stupid he would know that Hextech innovation could take a lifetime and probably wouldn’t wait to confess to Jayce just for that endlessly moving finish line.)

BUT, joking aide, I truly DO think that Viktor is kind and empathetic at his core and he really didn’t plan to confess his feelings to Jayce until he found a cure for his disease, which would require a lot of Hextech innovation to have any hope of reaching. Literally it would take a miracle.

I think Viktor’s belief in his own inadequacy could have festered in the painful doldrums of his own rapidly advancing illness after the initial glow of making the Hexgates happen.

Any hope of finding a cure was always remote, but as his illness advanced, this is when he may have even begun to push Jayce away, knowing the inevitable was coming. He certainly wouldn’t confess feelings to someone he loved with his days so numbered.

And that’s where I think a thread of actual resentment towards Mel might have crept in. To be fair, I don’t think Viktor hated her as a person, as such, nor was he a swooning teenager wracked by petty jealousy. But I think it must have stung to have his days so numbered and have this woman who represented everything he couldn’t offer to Jayce: health, wealth, beauty, position, prestige, etc distracting his attention away during what might be Viktor’s final days.

The thing is, I think rationally Viktor didn’t say anything because again, his days were numbered and Jayce and Mel were happy and well suited and beautiful and perfect together. He had nothing to offer. And it would be cruel to drag Jayce back just so Jayce would have to mourn him even more. Then as a result, Viktor was even more consumed by trying to save his own life by a miracle, though he now had to do it more alone than he ever predicted he would have to.

But there’s that horrible catch 22. He can’t tell Jayce how he feels because he might fail and die anyway and that would be cruel to someone he loves. But if he doesn’t tell Jayce, Jayce won’t come back to his side to help him out with the research needed to maybe save it.

Then Sky dies to the Hexcore and Viktor realizes just how much he’d lost of the parts of himself he liked, the parts that cared about helping others as PART of the cure for himself, and truly just gave up on any of it. He made his peace, decided to support Jayce during the emancipation of Zaun as a sort of ambassador, and resigned himself to the fact this would be the end for him.

Well, we know what happened next. Jayce saved his life, against Viktor’s wishes, using Viktor’s now-hates innovation.

Ok so now for the part that I was trying to get to:

A newly healed Viktor now has to reevaluate his life’s work checklist. It’s a much shorter list now.

1) Save his own life - check.

2) Figure out a way to make the world a better place - check.

3) Confess to Jayce now that you’re proud of who you are both inside and outside. You are finally worthy of him. You will finally live long enough that confessing isn’t an act of cruelty. You finally have achievements that make you worthy to proposition the creator of Hextech and the man you love, who is as far as you know, currently dating the physical embodiment of perfection.

And that explains Viktor’s catwalk into the Council Chamber in 2.08. He’s decked out in Mel’s colors. He’s ready to compete. He’s perfect now. He’s found a way to save humanity from itself. He is now worthy of Jayce and in a place where he can actually offer a lifetime together.

And Jayce rejects him.

This stuns Viktor. Actually, it fully knocks him into a villain arc, because Jayce has never refused him anything before. And Viktor can’t comprehend why his checklist didn’t work. Why did becoming perfect not work?

Because Jayce didn’t need the checklist. He’d already broken up with Mel. He didn’t need Viktor to be healed or to have already saved the world or to be anything else but Jayce’s partner. Jayce would have been happier if Viktor proposed at Step 0, but Viktor thought that would be a cruelty if he didn’t have a cure yet.

But I truly think Jayce would have preferred even just a day as Viktor’s official partner if that was all they got over a decade of being held at arm’s length until “everything was perfect”.

And that’s what Viktor doesn’t understand.

And that’s what Jayce had to show him in that final act of love.

[angstpancake]

I’m so glad a majority of this was handled professionally offline. 90% of disputes nowadays are handled publicly because people jump the gun and go straight to social media with their concerns rather than contacting any sort of HR Team or whatever the equivalent is for youtubers. I understand that in some cases, there are power dynamics that cause victims to go ignored, but unravelling drama live can be really exhausting and panic inducing for everyone. Including people who are going to be receiving the messages.

All I am saying is that it’s really refreshing that something is known fact and “credible” on the announcement coming from the main source rather than allegations from an outside source.

That being said I am seeing some people getting upset about not getting answers right off the bat, and to them I say you need to chill. If this were the news and not social media, delayed updates would be expected. Yes, the people deserve to know. Thankfully, vague confirmations from Mumbo and False means that things have been thoroughly investigated. Doc has confirmed that more information will be revealed.

We WILL know what happened. They know that people deserve to know, that is why they are telling us anything at all. They’re getting ahead of the drama by being proactive. They’ve likely seen what situations like this have done to other smps when not handled properly, and they’ve handled it. Properly.

Be patient everyone and obviously don’t spread rumours. We dont wanna feed the sharks.

[a-dragons-journal]

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

spent a good hour reading up on your Not What He Seems AU, it’s such a perfect mix of angst and whimsy! Ford waking up to find 30 years have passed in the blink of an eye is is the kind of body horror terrifying i eat up, as an avid enjoyer of time travel and its inherent tragedy.

i got a few questions, if you’ll indulge me:

- what kinds of tattoos you think Bill has gotten over the years? i think i saw some arm bands in one of your pieces, but i’d love to hear if you have any specific ideas for placements or images. if he’s doing it for the safe pain experience, i’d think there are some pretty big/detailed pieces involved? and do you think the pain helps ground him somewhat, to find and fit better in the boundaries of the body?

- in the show, Stan feels a lot of guilt for stealing his brother’s identity and he kinda thinks of himself as a fraud, an actor. do you think Bill ever feels guilty for the same? or would he just miss Ford a lot, without the Stan-specific aspect of pretending to be “the better one”?

also any fun tidbits you’ve been rotating in your head lately! it’s impressive how specifically it seems like you’ve thought out how Bill’s presence would affect the canon show events, while trying to keep them as unchanged as possible. also StanFraud is the funniest, most perfect thing I’ve ever heard!

Thank you!! I’ve always enjoyed writing horror based on human response, so Ford’s perspective is probably one of the most fascinating to me in this AU, although, all of it is fascinating and enjoyable to explore, really!

— I haven’t worked them all out yet, but I know for a fact he has a tattoo of the Cipher Wheel on his back, the arm bands as you mentioned, a hyper-realistic tattoo of his ribs where his ribs would be (if that makes sense), and eyes on the back of his hands. Honestly, I’d be open to suggestions for him! I imagine him having some more grotesque, detailed tattoos that reflect the nightmare realm as well. And yes, the pain definitely helps ground him. It also gives him a sense of control as well, in a situation where he has none.

— If he does feel guilty, it’s a complicated kind of guilt. I don’t even think he’d fully process that he’s feeling guilty. It’s this sort of gnawing feeling he can’t get rid of, and it starts the longer he gets to know Dipper and Mabel — he never really felt it before that. He absolutely misses Ford though. He can’t define that feeling either. I’ve said before that he looks at Dipper strangely, and that’s because Dipper reminds him of Ford in certain moments, eager for discovery!

He and Stan never really talk about it, but the have both acknowledged missing Ford before.

Bill’s response was vague though, not an ‘I miss him too’, but an ‘I think I do too.’ He isn’t sure what to make of that.

Bill Cipher doesn’t feel remorse, or miss people, he does everything with intention and he’s never made mistakes. Or, that’s what he’s meant to be. Maybe he has gone soft.

And Tidbits! I have a few! Not as many as usual, only because Arcane’s been taking up a bit of my brain space lately, but I hope these shall suffice anyhow:

(And quickly, thank you again, I think way too hard on all the small details and how Bill’s presence would have a knock on effect. It makes me happy to see it get noticed!)

— In the early days of Bill being trapped, Stan obviously doesn’t open the Mystery Shack, and ends up having to take a few odd jobs around town instead. He’s earned a bit of a reputation for being a decent handyman because of that, and even now, old timers of the town will still come to Stan if they need something fixing, especially cars. He complains about getting too old for it, but he never says no. Money is money! It’s also interesting to think about how the little things would impact his relationship with the townsfolk and how they view him. He’s always been Stanley to them. He’s never had to pretend otherwise.

— I’ve toyed around with making the Blind Eye a bigger threat than they are in canon, being as the kids would have no reason to look into Old Man McGucket. I’ve also toyed around with McGucket ending up slightly different to canon, his mind still broken, but his motivation different, with him being aware early on that the man he sees isn’t Ford, and is in fact the beast he fears and tried to erase from his mind. A more antagonistic Fiddleford who’s been trying to get rid of Bill for years now would actually be really fun? If I can make it work, and make the Blind Eye work in this way, I’ll lean into it! For now though, it’s just an idea I’m throwing around.

— Vague ‘episode’ idea that exists within my brain is Bill accidentally starting a mini cult again after telling some sort of lie that catches on, and it ends up being a Mabel-Bill bonding plot-line as she tries to convince him to just be honest before this whole cult thing gets taken too far. I also love the idea of Bill making a comment about this being like 1952 all over again. He makes comments like that all the time. Surely he’s just joking!

— Another vague ‘episode’ idea I have is Bill taking Dipper and Mabel to the supernatural underground market of Gravity Falls under Stan’s nose, trying to prove he’s the cooler Uncle, and that he can handle the two kids by himself. This goes about as well as you’d expect. Stan isn’t too happy to find out Bill got Dipper and Mabel in trouble, as he tried to get them to do more and more risky things.

— Bill will sometimes start speaking in Euclydian without realising, especially when it comes to cursing, and no one knows how he’s making those sounds with his mouth. Stan’s actually started picking up some of the meanings in context and can roughly gauge what Bill might be saying.

[meelusinee]

SUN-KISSED LIPS ★ B.Z X READER

in which Blaise takes you out on a date in Italy after your O.W.L exams

pairing: boyfriend blaise zabini x girlfriend reader tags: fluff fluff fluff!!! blaise being the best boyfriend word count: 2.3k warnings: none

author's note: thank u guys so much for the support AAAAAA i've been so motivated to write fanfics and stuff, so i'm making one for every major character i want to cover before i do repeats. unlesss someone wants to do a request :D in which case i will totally try to make something up.

SUN KISSED LIPS | B.Z X READER

Exams had been stressful, to say the least. 

Potions was absolutely dreadful. Snape’s watchful eye feeling like it was zoned directly onto you, any mistake you made seemed to displease the man even further than what you thought possible. Then Charms, where you had to remember at least 50 spells within the span of maybe two minutes. The written section for Transfiguration was absolutely dreadful, as was the showcase of Mandrake handling for your Herbology exams. Not to mention the abomination of your History of Magic exam, though you felt like everyone could only recall one or two things by that point of the week. Defense Against the Dark Arts was last, the only class you felt you had done something good in.

All in all, very stressful.

And that stress was not lost on Blaise either.

Blaise, your sweet and caring boyfriend, has had to handle most of your exam stress for the past month. Most of the time though, you were shutting him out in favor of studying. 

He couldn’t blame you much, the O.W.L exams were important. Not everyone could buy their way into Ministry jobs, they would have to work for it. Your work ethic was always something that Blaise truly appreciated about you.

But right now, that work ethic was getting in the way of his love life. Which obviously meant that he had to devise a plan.

“Amore mio,” he whispered, hands moving to scratch at your scalp as you leaned over your desk. “The exams are over, what’s there to be stressed about?”

“I haven’t gotten my results back yet!” you said, the bone of your palm hitting your forehead before pulling roughly at your hair. “What if I failed all of them? I mean, these exams are really important. If I fail all of them, I won’t be able to do anything with my life.”

Blaise chuckled softly at that, gently pulling your hands away from your hair before kissing the top of your head. “Bambina, we have Umbridge this year.”

“God, don’t remind me.” you groaned. “I’ll die, Blaise. Actually die. She’s going to fail all of my exams, isn’t she?”

“Love,” he chuckled, pulling up a chair and sitting next to you. “Look at me.”

Blaise watched as you sighed before looking over at him, cooing softly as he finally saw your face for what felt like years. Your eyes were dark and swollen, both from a lack of sleep and crying. Not to mention how stressed you looked all together, with a sunken face and large pout that melted away at his heart.

“Tesoro,” Blaise whispered, his hands moving to hold yours. “You passed, my love. I know you did. You’ve been studying so hard for so long there’s no way you didn’t. I promise all of the professors will easily be giving you O’s on every exam.”

“But what if I fail?” you groaned, sniffling softly.

“You won’t fail.” Blaise said sternly, squeezing your hands. He didn’t want you beating yourself down anymore. “Plus, Umbridge likes me, and by association likes you. Maybe not the best person to like you, sure. But I promise it could help with your exams, the exams you don’t need help with in the first place.”

“You’re going to use bribery to get me perfect grades?” you chuckled quietly, scooting your chair a bit closer to him.

“I don’t think my bribery would be as effective as some people’s bribery.” he muttered, fingers caressing the back of your hands. “Maybe Draco.”

“How on Earth would you bribe Draco?” you giggled softly, looking up at him.

“Hookers.” Blaise shrugged, before smirking. “Which gives me a bit of an idea.”

“We are not hiring a prostitute.” you said.

“No, but we are going to go on a date.” Blaise smirked, standing up and walking over to your wardrobe. “Do you still have that black dress I got you last month? Or maybe the red one.” 

“Blaise!” you chuckled, standing up and moving to stand beside him. “Where on Earth would we even go? We haven’t made reservations or anything.”

“We don’t need those.” Blaise said, nudging you with his elbow. “Put on a nice outfit, we’re going on a date.”

“This is ridiculous.” you giggled, arms wrapped around his as the both of you walked down the sidewalks of Italy.

In the time that you took a shower, put on a nice sundress, and did your hair and makeup, Blaise had found a portkey to an Italian plaza. In Italy. The sun was still in the sky by the time they got there, the sun setting in just a couple of hours.

“What about it is ridiculous?” he asked, smiling softly down at you. “We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping in Italy!” you said, giggling softly. “Like, what about that isn’t ridiculous? Just 10 minutes ago I was at Hogwarts, now I’m in Italy.”

“It’s nothing.” he said, the both of you stopping in front of a clothing store. “I want to get you a new dress, is that okay?”

“You got me two already this month, and we’re not even halfway!” you giggled, looking up at him. “Do I really need another one?”

“This one’s from Italy though, bambina.” Blaise smiled, kissing the top of your forehead. His hand was resting on your waist, the other hand moving to open the door for you both. “Plus, you’ll need a swimsuit as well.”

“I do?” you asked confusedly.

“Yes you do, c’mon.” he smiled. 

The both of you walked into the store, Blaise guiding you to the swimsuit section. The first piece there was a red and white plaid one-piece, much similar to a picnic blanket. “I think that we should have a picnic at the beach.”

“If I have to wear a picnic blanket, so do you.” you said to him, hands on your hips.

“Maybe just plain red?” he asked you.

“I suppose that works.” you muttered, grabbing one of the swimsuits and holding it by the hanger. “What kind of dress did you want to buy me anyways?”

“I was thinking black.” he muttered, his hand resting on the dip in your back as you both walked to the dress section of the shop. There were shorter dresses and small sun dresses, though your gaze immediately turned to the more elegant ones at the top. “Maybe with velvet. Or a ball gown.”

“I am not letting you buy me a ball gown.” you said, wagging your finger in his face. “That is too much!”

“But then everyone would know that you’re a princess, wouldn’t they?” he smirked, eyes darting to look at the different dresses. “That one?”

It was a black silk dress, with a shoulderless sweetheart neckline and corset at the top. It was form fitting, and probably would cover your ankles. The top part before the corset was embroidered with small black gemstones, a small pattern of them also at the bottom.

“It’s really pretty,” you whispered, your eyes darting to the price tag. “But that’s too expensive. I couldn’t possibly accept it.”

“Sure you can,” he said, grabbing the first one off the rack and holding it against you. “It’d be yours, why couldn’t you?”

“Because it’s too much!” you said to him, looking down at the dress pressed against you. “Blaise, that is way too expensive. You’ve already bought me two dresses this month, don’t you have a budget of sorts? Surely you think this is too much too.”

“I’d rather dress you up than have my dad waste the worth of this on a pack of well-patted cigars.” Blaise said, kissing your forehead as he grabbed the swimsuit from your hands.

“Oh hush,” you grumbled out loud, trying and failing to grab at the dress and swimsuit from his hands as you both made your way to the counter. “I’ll get my revenge on you one day, Mister.”

“I’m sure you will, amore mio.”

The sun was just beginning to set as you waded your way into the water, small giggles escaping your mouth at the feeling of the cold water against your legs.

“It feels funny!” you said, smiling as Blaise pulled you into a hug. “You can feel it, right?”

“I can.” he smiled, peppering your face in kisses as you continued to laugh about the feeling. “It does feel rather unique, I must say.”

“It’s tickling me.” you said, holding onto his arms like a vice as the both of you waded further in.

“Are you cold?” he asked you, the water eventually making it up to your chests now. “I can put a warming charm on you, if you want.”

“It’s meant to be cold.” you said, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted you up to carry you. “Plus, you’re rather warm yourself anyways.”

“Am I now?” he chuckled softly.

“Yes you are.” you said, booping him on the nose.

Blaise hummed softly, his finger tapping your back a couple of times before a small radio began to play. You looked around in awe, not having noticed the scenery before you two got into the water. 

The water was absolutely breathtaking, the setting sun shining against it also giving Blaise the perfect sun-kissed look. His skin was absolutely glowing, and his smile mixing with the music made you feel like you just entered a romcom. 

“You’re absolutely beautiful, amore mio.” Blaise whispered, humming softly to the tune of a song you didn’t know.”

“How’d you even get us to Italy?” you asked, chuckling softly at him.

“My family is Italian.” he hummed under his breath, raising his eyebrow at you. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I do!” you pouted. “I just didn’t think you’d have a bloody Portkey to Italy.” 

“Well, I do.” he chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose to yours. “And now you know.”

“Good.” you hummed, nodding softly.

The two of you stayed in the water for a long while. You waded down to where the water would hit your shoulders, Blaise following close behind you as you both started to try and dance in the water. The sun set and made way for the moon, shining down on you as echoes of your giggles filled the night.

“Why don’t we go get some dinner?” Blaise whispered softly, his lips brushing against yours. “You’ll have to try the dress back on eventually.

“I’ll race you!” you said, the both of you wading your way to the shoreline. Blaise had originally beat you, but stayed behind and let you go first. 

“I win!” you giggled, smiling as Blaise patted your skin dry. “Where are we going to eat?”

“This one restaurant I know, they serve the best pasta.” he whispered, kissing your lips as the both of you walked off of the shoreline and towards the plazas again.

You and Blaise were walking to the restaurant together, hands held together as he directed you. His hands had been all over you all day, especially when he helped you put on the dress and do your hair and makeup for the date.

Which led you to where you were right now, in a black dress to match his black slacks, the both of you standing in front of a rather fancy restaurant. 

“What are you going to get?” you asked him curiously, smiling softly as he walked you to a table. He pulled the chair out for you, his lips meeting yours once you sat down. 

“Carbonara,” he whispered, sitting across from you after adjusting his tie. “You?”

“I don’t know much about Italian dishes,” you whispered. “I mean, I know some things. I don’t know if I know everything on this menu though.”

“Maybe you should start with something you know.” Blaise whispered, his hand moving across the table to meet yours. “Lasagna?”

“I love lasagna.” you whispered, turning the menu to the drink section. “What about drinks though? There’s just so many.”

“Anything you want, honey.” he chuckled softly. “You can get wine if you want. I’ll take you back home, okay?”

“Okay.” you smiled softly, giggling as you looked at the menu.

The waiter walked up and took your orders, the food eventually arriving with steam coming out. “This is really pretty.” you whispered.

“It is, isn’t it?” Blaise asked, chuckling softly as his fork swirled through his carbonara.

You swirled your fork around the lasagna before taking a small bite, blowing on it before placing it on your mouth. “This is so good.”

“Is it?” Blaise whispered, smiling softly. “Do you want to try some of my stuff?”

“It looks really good,” you whispered softly, scooting a bit forward in your chair as he handed you a small bite. “Thank you.”

“Does it taste good?” he asked, smiling softly.

“It does.” you whispered, smiling brightly at the taste of it. “I love both of them. And this wine, it’s also really good too.”

“Is it?” Blaise asked, chuckling at that. “Do you want a bottle to take back to Hogwarts?”

“We can do that?” you asked.

“Yes we can.” Blaise nodded, smiling softly.

“We so should!” you said, taking another sip of your glass of wine.

“Merlin,” he whispered softly, his hand caressing yours. “I love you.”

You both had made your way back to Hogwarts, your feet stumbling as Blaise helped you down into the dungeons. Down the stairs, through the Common Rooms, and down to his dormitory. His scent wrapped around you as he wrapped you in his blankets, a small smile coming on your face as you realized it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes looking up at Blaise with a sleepy expression. “For this.”

You felt a lot better despite your impending test results, a lot calmer than you were not seven hours ago. This date was probably one of the best things that had ever happened to you.

“It’s okay,” Blaise whispered, his hand caressing your cheek as he kissed your forehead. “You need some rest, can you get some for me?”

“Okay.” you whispered, nodding softly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAa this one was so fun to write oh my gawsh. beta-reading still sucks, but hey i got it done!

as alwayss, please like, comment, reblog, or whatever jazz you feel like doing. it really really helps out a lot more then you guys think it does, and i really really really appreciate it. if you have any requests, i have a masterlist full of characters i plan on writing for! so go check all that out, and have a great day!

[lunajay33]

Why Me? Part.2

•🤎🐺🪵🍂🌑•

Summary: Bella and Y/n are twins but when Bella and Renee moved away you stayed with Charlie always growing closer with the people around La push, but when Bella comes back it’s like everything is flipped around, Bella becomes distant obsessed with the cullens, you find solace with the guys at the beach but things change after the first year and suddenly you’re all alone, will anyone come back, will Paul your best friend, your forever crush come save you from depression

Pairing: Paul Lahote x f!reader

Warnings: Depression

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Song Suggestion: Heartbeat by Nessa Barrett

Hopping down from the wolf I make my way closer to the house but before I can enter strong warm arms wrap around me I know who it is instantly

“Paul” I choke out before crumbling to the ground in tears for the second time this night , the cold ground meeting my knees his arms still secure around my hips hind chest pressing against my back hearing his cries along with mine

“Why did you leave me” I scream letting myself feel everything I’ve gone through the last month

“I’m so sorry Angel, please give me a chance to explain”

“But you hurt me so badly” my cries settling a bit seeing Sam and Emily come out the house worried

“Please I’ll do anything please” he was begging and he never begged, I nodded warily, he picked me up effortlessly and brought me into the house setting me back on the couch Emily and Sam lingering near obviously knowing what’s going on

“Is this normal Sam? For the bond to cause her these emotions to such an extent?” Paul asked from over his shoulder as he was kneeled infront of me his hands never leaving mine

“The bond can cause despair when separated but to this extent for her to be physically ill must mean you have a much deeper connection than just the bond, you can’t leave her again Paul we don’t know what could happen” the talked like I wasn’t right here and they made no sense

“What’re you guys talking about, you said you’d explain”

“I will but…….y/n how could you try to kill yourself, that would’ve devastated everyone, to lose the most precious being to walk this town”

“It was too much Paul, with you gone and Bella being preoccupied by Edward and Jacob with Bella I was alone and it just grew the pit in my heart” I sighed feeling the emotions of the day finally drain me

“Never again, I’ll never leave but what I’m going to tell you is gonna be a lot”

He told me everything, how he and Sam were wolves how it ran in their blood and only came out when vampires appeared, their truce with the cullens how I had to keep everything a secret, but most of all how I was Paul’s imprint and why he had to stay away to protect me

Everything suddenly made sense but it didn’t make it hurt any less

“Are you okay Angel?” Paul asked after the long pause that lingered in the air

I sucked in a quick sharp breath just registering everything

“But what now, will I get better, what about us what’re we now?”

“You’ll get better in time as long as we keep seeing eachother, and like I said I’ll be anything you need, your best friend, your protector, your boyfriend”

“I wanna be with you Paul, I can’t lie about it anymore, it’s always been you since day one” his warm hand caressed my cheek making some of the pain go away

“I knew it would always be you, but you have to promise to never do what you almost did tonight, even though I hate those blood suckers I’m glad he saved you in time, cause I’m never letting you go again” his head pressed against mine our lips so close

“I love you Paul”

“I love you too always”

Get home at 12 am felt different, my conscience was clear once again, me and Paul stand in the back yard as he walked me home I guess, I rode on his back as he walked in his wolf form, it was all crazy really, my best friend a shapeshifting wolf

“Can you stay the night maybe? I just don’t want you to go just yet” i ask fiddling with his fingers

“You go up to your room open the window I’ll be up”

I ran up the stairs as lightly as I could in hope to not disturb dad or Bella who was probably accompanied by Edward, then being vampires didn’t scare me atleast not them they were nice especially alice Jasper and Emmett

I flipped on my lamp and opened the window looking down to see Paul quickly climbing up the house and right through the window

“So you’re super human too”

“Still got your humour” he smiles as he huffs spreading out in my bed like usual when he comes over

Changing into pajamas and joining him in bed, it wasn’t weird we’ve been doing this kind of thing since kids

“I’ve missed this” I sighed curling up into his radiating warmth compared to the cold sheets that replaced him when he was gone

“You have no idea how much I wanted to come to you every night and make sure you were okay, it killed to have to stay away from my mate, my best friend” he sighed running his hands through my hair

“You’ll be here when I wake up right?” Worried he’ll be gone and this was all just a dream

“Always”

And he was for the rest of my life he was there every morning

Taglist: @lilredcamaro14 @cvmtitss @larissa01-blog2 @evanpetersmood @xocellyy @sbrn0905

[soapieanxiety]

Hi mootie, I really like your headcanon posts, do you have any headcanons for Sweden and iceland? (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)

Hi mootie 🥺

I’m so glad you like the headcanon posts, I love writing them! Now I absolutely adore Iceland and Sweden’s relationship and find it very wholesome. Like previous posts, I’m gonna preface how I view the relationship before delving into headcanons.

I feel like Sweden is the Nordic that Iceland feels the most comfortable around. Not saying he’s uncomfortable around the rest of the Nordics but their tendency to be nosy definitely makes Iceland uneasy sometimes. In fact, when the rest of the Nordics get like this the first person Iceland turns to is Sweden or the first person who goes, “hey if he doesn’t wanna, then he doesn’t have to” is Sweden.

Iceland respects Sweden a lot and he finds comfort in him being the most level-headed Nordic. Sweden also has this dad energy, a lot of the fandom has picked up on this. I don’t think that Iceland views Sweden in a parental light, however I do think he gravitates towards Sweden because of it. Sweden has this stability about him that Iceland honestly didn’t have for the majority of his life. It makes sense that he’d gravitate towards that .

I definitely believe that Iceland confides in Sweden about stuff he feels he can’t tell the rest of the Nordics. I feel like Iceland really respects the natural maturity Sweden shows because Iceland himself is trying to be seen as more mature. Iceland wants to be taken seriously and Sweden takes Iceland seriously. Norway has stated that he still views Iceland as a child, which is something Iceland desperately doesn’t want to be treated as.

I’m gonna get more into it in my historical Iceland ramble, but Iceland didn’t actually know Finland and Sweden until way later than most people realize. He’s never seen Sweden be that “uncommunicative combat machine” and is quick to turn the idea down. Probably because it doesn’t fit his view of Sweden. He definitely thinks very highly of him.

To conclude before headcanon time, Iceland obviously views Sweden very highly and really respects him a lot. Sweden provides that stable elder figure that neither Norway nor Denmark were able to provide. (This isn’t a Norway and Denmark diss post, I think they did their best but let’s be honest here. Icelands childhood was anything but stable) Sweden also shows to care for Iceland as he sticks up for Iceland when the other Nordics are being nosy. Sweden respects Iceland a lot as well and just wants the best for him. I love their friendship and feel it can be overlooked sometimes.

Ok, now it’s headcanon time:

- Sweden has gifted Iceland hand-knitted sweaters for him and Mr. Puffin before. The real question is, did Mr. Puffin wear it? (After convincing, yes he did)

- I mentioned this earlier, but Iceland 100% confides in Sweden about personal troubles. He’s probably ranted to him about his childhood before and his loneliness. Sometimes Sweden gives advice if Iceland wants it but I feel most times Iceland just wants someone to listen. Sweden is always happy to listen

- Adding onto the previous headcanon, Sweden keeps all of Icelands secrets until he is ready to tell them to the rest of the Nordics himself.

- This can work for any Iceland ship ever but I fully believe that if Iceland were to ever get with anyone, then the first Nordic to know would definitely be Sweden.

- If Iceland wants hot chocolate than he goes to Sweden, Sweden makes really good hot chocolate. You can even combine headcanons and say that Iceland confides in Sweden over a cup of hot chocolate.

[ghostsandfools]

Detailed Algebralien Society

Guys… I’m REALLLYYYYYY bored……. And I’ve been thinking about Algebraliens a lot, so I wrote this detailed analysis of how I think their society works. But it’s like, LONG. Like it’s REALLY long, so not click read more if you aren’t prepared to read an essay length post of ideas about number people

Okay, I think Math is like their version of Science if that makes any sense. The laws of their world are defined by math the same way science defines ours. I think maybe math textbooks would be kind of like religious texts to them too, like there are different ways tot think about math and it’s principles (so basically when Two said they didn’t like math it was kind of like a metaphor for them renouncing religion in a way…)

And then obviously there’s the equations themselves. To me addition just seems like fusion from Steven Universe, where they become one being.

Multiplication is like cloning. I think the algebraliens would reproduce like normal humans and multiplication is more of just a way to clone themself. So like, if you did 7 x 4 instead of getting 28 you would just get 4 identical 7s.

I know what I said about multiplication sounds basically the exact same to division but I don’t think division splits you into two equal clones. I think it splits your personality in half. So like, when 14 divided by 2 each of the 7s got separate parts of their personality, yknow?

That just leaves subtraction… Subtraction actually seems kind of dark- I think it would be kind of like division, except it just takes parts of you away. So, division takes part of your personality and puts it into each of your factors, meanwhile subtraction just deteriorates your memories and personality until you can hardly function anymore. So like dementia basically-

Besides that, I think other types of equations are possible but the algebraliens haven’t figured out how to do them yet. So like, tetration and stuff is mentioned in their religious math textbooks but they don’t actually know how to do all that

When it comes to genetics I don’t think it lines up perfectly with how math actually works. So like, random example, if 6 and 9 had a kid it probably wouldnt be 15 because then numbers would just keep getting bigger and bigger. Instead, I think genetics would determine a number’s color and whether they’re even or odd. So, since 6 is even and 9 is odd, their kid would probably be an odd number that’s some shade of blue or white, but which number it is isn’t guaranteed.

Along with that, I think they’d differentiate by last names. Since there can be multiple of the same number, you’d be able to tell them apart by their color and last name. There are probably 100s of each number running around, but it doesn’t get confusing because of the last name thing. Along with that, when a number multiplies or divides each of their duplicates takes on their last name, and when numbers add together the sum gets both of their last names.

Algebraliens are known for their ability to travel through space. The equation playground is on Earth. So far we know that 4, X, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 14 live on Earth. 2 and 1 both came from space (ooooo, they’re totally exes with history together but I’ll make a post about that some other timeeeee) and we know 15 lives on some other planet because when 6 and 9 went to visit them they had to drive through space (9 is such a skilled driver ^^). I also don’t know if 3 lives on Earth because I forgor :]

This raises the question of what the algebraliens home planet is like or if they even have one. 15’s cabin MAY be located on their original planet, or maybe 15 lives on some completely different unrelated planet then the one they’re actually from. The lore is really blurry about this stuff :c

What we DO know is that the algebraliens are scattered across multiple planets (and maybe moons? Since 1 is so tied to the moon, and they crashed or Earth with the moon).

Since their math based religion is such an integral part of their lives, maybe they have some sacred land somewhere that we’re yet to see? Maybe??? I don’t know????

it’s like 1 AM right now and this is just me word vomiting all my dumb ideas about algebraliens-

If anyone actually took the time to read all this maybe you can share some of your own ideas and we can talk about number aliens together please 👉👈

[kurishiri]

18.5 . . . “ a meaningless emotion ”

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— 🤍 his side story, chapter 18. this is one you can purchase on your second play through of his route.

— cw: the very end may be considered suicidal ideation.

Alfons: ...I think I’ve had just about enough of this blasted sob story.

I slipped out of the bed and changed——if I loitered around the castle, running into her would be a pain.

(Today there’ll be some merrymaking happening amongst the eccentric nobility.)

It wasn’t as though I wanted to go out of my way to go there, but it was a perfect way to kill time.

—— Time skip ——

Alfons: Alright then, what shall we bet on next?

Drunken man: I got it! How about this oil painting that my old man said was his most valued one, not that I know anything about it!

Crossdressing woman: Did you steal that? Vincent… huh, who is this? Never heard of him. Isn’t it just a cheap thing?

Alfons: Hehe, I must say it’s quite unlike nobility to worry over the value of the good.

Crossdressing woman: But it’s not so exciting, you know, it’s better to have something that shows its value.

Alfons: Well then… how about I give a dream where “this painting is worth 500 pounds?”

Man smoking a cigar: Oh, that’s a good idea.

Whether it was nobility, drunken people at some street corner of the bar, the orphans at the East End, and what have you, they weren’t so different.

They would find any pleasure they could through gambling, liquor, or sex, so they could live while avoiding their pains and worries.

Drunken nobleman: Hey, Al, is that rumor about you having a recent favorite true?

Noble lady with gloves: Al, you mustn’t become someone’s partner! We need you to stay a star of all single nobles.

Alfons: Yes, yes, such was my intention.

Drunken nobleman: So you say, but your heart’s already taken by that person, isn’t it?

Alfons: Hehe, I digress.

Man smoking a cigar: …Let’s just leave it at that. If we question him any more, he may never come again, and that would sure put us in a bind.

Man smoking a cigar: Even if his heart’s got its sights set on someone, it’s fine as long as he shares some of that pleasure… isn’t that right?

Noble lady with gloves: Well, I suppose. Ahh, I hope my father gives up on matters of my marriage soon…

(‘My heart’s already taken by that person’… huh.)

When I heard those words that seemed to embody the soul of romanticism,

Kate was the one and sole person who came to mind, and for a moment, I felt called out.

——You hurt me so much and leave me in the dust, but now you decide to commit? That’s just cruel…!

At some point, the little robin had made its home within my mind, making an angered face and suddenly turning away.

(Hehe… it’s not as though I’m committing.)

Alfons: Perhaps I do have some guilt left in me… ah, it’s a straight flush.

Drunken man: Al’s win again?!

As I was staring in a daze at the trump cards raining and fluttering down,

just as I had intended, time melted away into idleness.

I ended up drinking through the night until dawn and having a meat pie from a street seller for breakfast, I returned to the castle, and——

Alfons: Oh?

In a stroke of bad luck, I happened upon Roger and Miss Kate walking together.

Kate: Ah... w-welcome back.

Roger: Hey there, Al.

Leaving aside the mentally strong former doctor who, regardless whether he was aware he was being hated on, would initiate a conversation with a light tone and carefree smile,

Miss Kate very obviously looked awkward.

(I can’t even flatter your acting skills.)

She was the complete opposite of me, who had a lot of practice when it came to plastering on a smile.

Alfons: Well I’ll be, are you on your way to a most friendly outing, the two of you?

Kate: Ah, no, we’re...

Roger: What, curiosity got you piqued?

As if to make a point, Roger wrapped his arm around Kate’s shoulder snugly.

Kate: Roger!? What are you doing—

Roger: Alright then, let me fill you in. We’re gonna be spending the whole entire day holed up in a locked room, just the two of us. Let’s get along now, yeah?

(This man needs to get a hobby.)

(I hardly have any intention of hopping on that cheap provocation.)

Alfons: Oh my, is that so? It would appear you’ve found yourself a lovely playmate while I was not around. I’m happy for you, Miss Kate.

Kate: …

I gave a smile to convey I didn’t think anything of it, and Miss Kate, as though hurt, furrowed her brows.

(Aha, you poor soul, you.)

I figured she probably wasn’t clinging to Roger in hopes that he would heal her broken heart.

I knew very well that she was hardly the type to be able to do such things.

Her single-mindedness in facing me no matter how much I refused or hurt her was staunch to be sure.

(And that’s exactly what makes her different from me… I suppose.)

(Well, whether she’ll make it out safely from the basement after being alone with this man is a different story…)

(But it doesn’t have anything to do with me, so.)

The moment I tried to leave, Miss Kate opened her mouth, as though trying to pull me back.

Kate: Alfons..!

Alfons: ? Yes, what is it?

Kate: ...I still very much like you.

Alfons: ...Come again?

Roger: ... (O_O)

It was such a sudden confession of love, I stiffened out of instinct.

(………Has she gone bonkers?)

(You do know I’m the man who played your feelings of love, and to top it all off, told you it was all a ‘nuisance’ and left the bed, right?)

And yet she still insisted on pouring these dazzling words on me; what else could I think her as, if not crazy?

Kate: Even if this all amounts to a nuisance to you... this is the ‘truth’ for me, so.

Alfons: .........

(Ah, now I’ve done it. This should be the part where I laugh it all off.)

I needed to make her think that, no matter how earnestly she threw her feelings at me, they would never get through, so she could give up on me.

(So that these feelings of love she holds for me amounts to nothing but garbage…)

(I need to laugh at her, to deny her——)

My mind knew that, and yet for some reason, my lips couldn’t form a smile.

Kate: Okay, we’re going, Roger.

Miss Kate, seeming as though she wanted to run from my silence, ran down the staircase leading to the basement.

Roger: Pfft, haha... I feel like I haven’t seen you so dumbfounded in forever.

As Kate’s footsteps grew more distant, I heard an unpleasant laughter.

I hated how this man would not seem to pay any mind to the feelings of others like that.

Alfons: ...Oh, believe me, she is far from the first who’s rendered me so positively dumbfounded like this.

Roger: Hmm? So is it safe to say she’s no different than anyone else to you then?

R: Because if so, I may or may not end up stealing her away for real.

While slowly turning for the staircase, those egoistic lips showed a provoking smile.

Roger: After all, it’s not like you’d really care what happens to a toy you don’t need anymore, right?

Alfons: ………

Perhaps the reason I felt displeasure rise up from within me was because the one before me was a man filled with haughty arrogance.

Or was it because she was the one getting stolen?

(Whichever it is, I shouldn’t care for the answer.)

(Because, in any case, I didn’t have such a choice to step even further into her life to find the reason for this temporary displeasure.)

If that was the case, thinking on it was foolish. And yet——

Her lips, which were trembling as she declared how she ‘still liked me,’

the palms of her hands, which were gripped tightly together as though grasping onto courage,

and those eyes that looked so directly at me, as if to say to not misunderstand,

were all engraved into the back of my mind, refusing to let go.

The heavy footsteps going down the staircase grated on my ears, severely so.

For the feeling of a favorite toy being stolen away, it felt extremely bitter.

(Is this… jealousy? Me, of all people? But, how?)

The notion of getting something I said I didn’t need taken away, and then still feeling displeased over it and whatnot, was much like a child’s selfishness.

And besides——

(…The most I was able to do was imitate love, feeling nothing but emotional disconnect.)

Alfons: …I suppose the biggest mystery to one is themself.

Labeling the jealousy I felt that bubbled up from somewhere in me as ‘meaningless,’ I threw it behind me.

Thinking on it more would only make my helplessness more clear than it already was.

Hoping to idle the time away, I walked to my room, when all of a sudden, a certain question came to mind.

(Come to think of it, if they’re not doing anything shady, then what in the world are those two doing in the basement…?)

For a moment, I felt a sense of unease.

Miss Kate, who had said she ‘still liked me,’

was with Roger, the one who spouted off some nonsense about ‘changing fates’ and whatnot,

and they were in the basement, where a lot of documents concerning ‘Cursed ones’ were abundant, which would mean…

Alfons: …Now that just can’t be. She wouldn’t be so much a fool as to not know when to not give up, would she.

I denied it with my voice, but my chest got more and more filled with that uneasy feeling.

(What if, even after I pushed her away this far, it was already too late?)

(What if she poured even more of her feelings into me, continuing to spend more time with me——?)

Alfons: …Should that time ever come,

A: Perhaps I should simply up and disappear, just like that.

← back next →

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️ ╱ comms 🤍

NOTE: this is the last his side story i will translate, and the last chapter i will translate concerning alfons main story. thank you for accompanying me so long in this translation, to those who have read it all! it really means a lot to me! i enjoy translating for al lots, and i hope that came through as you were reading overall 🥹🙏

to those who will be reading his route in en, i hope you enjoy what this roller coaster of a route has to offer! theres a lot of complexities woven into his route thats sure give you something to think about. i translated this last chapter to close off the project, putting in my best wishes for you 🫶

i have heard from those who have read what i did for elbies main story that reading my tl has helped enhance their reading experience in en, and i hope this can do the same for you! or if you cant afford the premium stories or dont want to grind for these his side stories, i hope i could provide a way for you to access them more freely. again, thank you to everyone who has supported me, read my tls, interacted with these posts, etc.

its largely thanks to you that i can close this project and look back on it with positive memories! 🪞🤍✨

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia

[ragnarokhound]

kon and jason form a bond over the fact that both of them have a crush on tim and tim is oblivious about it. they still hate each other, obviously, but it's nice to get drunk with someone who understands, you know? except after nearly half a year of occasionally getting drunk and bitching about tim, they hook up. and then they keep on hooking up. but really they both want tim! which is about when tim walks in on them.

anon. anon i am taking you by the shoulders. this is beautiful to me. do you get how much I love the 'i love him not you, but he's not here and besides, you're the only other bitch around who i'd trust him with /derogatory' and how good that is for jaykon(tim)??? dO YOU??? (the mutual mutual pining. the pact between two people who both know who they're actually in love with. the potential for a True love triangle to form. slow burn in one direction, enemies to friends to lovers in another. i'm feral over this)

The first time it happened, it was completely by accident.

Neither of them could really be held accountable, so neither of them could really blame each other. No matter how much Jason would like to blame the superclone for literally everything that transpired, always and forever, it can’t be helped. There’s no one at fault but good old Jack Daniels. Jason hadn’t even known supers could get drunk, but maybe that’s Kon’s human half at work. Or maybe he laces it with kryptonite dust or neurotoxin or whatever. Jason doesn’t really give a fuck how Kon gets his kicks. He just knows that the two of them are the only motherfuckers who get it— and while that doesn’t make them friends by any means, it definitely makes them de facto drinking buddies. They are united by one thing, and one thing only: a horrific, embarrassing, deeply acute, and likely terminal attraction to one Timothy Jackson Drake. Yeah. They know. One unlikely team up on a mission gone wrong was all it took for Jason and Kon to reach an understanding.

From Tim’s disappointed scowling every time they bickered to the easy way he trusted both of them to manhandle him in the name of the greater good, soon enough, Jason had gone from glaring daggers in the superclone’s direction to trading pained, commiserating looks every time Tim twisted himself into a pretzel right in front of them. Which he did surprisingly often. Jason would call it suspiciously often if Tim weren’t the most oblivious, rizzless dumbass on the planet. He only has game when he isn’t trying. Unfortunately for both Jason and Kon, he definitely is not trying. By the end of that week, Kon had gone from threatening to throw Jason into space to wordlessly offering sad fist bumps every time Tim missed yet another thinly veiled come on. From either of them. (Tim thought they were finally bonding over bad jokes and kept laughing and booing in their faces.) Clown to clown communication at its finest. After the week was up and they were all set to go their separate ways, Jason shot his shot one last time, inviting Tim (and Kon by proxy) out for drinks. Tim politely declined, citing all the paperwork he’d need to fill out for the Titans that Jason had been fully intending to sidestep anyway— like fuck he’s ever touching another incident report in his life— but to Jason’s surprise, Kon took him up on it. The two of them had hit the bar, and by the third round of drinks they were both swapping Tim-stories and finally clearing the air about the finer details of that ass. The rest is unlikely history. Don’t get Jason wrong, they still hate each other’s guts. It changes from bitch-sesh to bitch-sesh, but by the end of the night Kon will have threatened something like snapping Jason’s fingers or lasering his face off, and Jason will have responded with something like an eye roll and asking him if he’d like a hunk of kryptonite to choke on. Only, the first time it happened, too many glasses of whiskey and one meandering walk from the bar to Jason’s closest safehouse later, Kon’s eyes had shuttered, dark and blue and nothing like the eyes either of them actually wanted, and said, “No, but I think I’d like to choke you on my dick. You game?” And, well. What was Jason supposed to do, but grin knife-sharp and mean and say— “I’d love to see you try.”