#or like. the general public would find it less exciting; unfortunately I do enjoy running through 7192 scenarios of how to define knowledge

[queerofthedagger]

i know this is in one way or another the curse of every profession but the amount of times i grit my teeth and scroll with a twitching eye past the most horrible takes on what philosophy is and does cannot be good for me. unfortunately, the alternative is sounding like A Philosophy MajorTM and that's like, even worse than leaving people to believe that what we do is like.. contemplating the meaning of life at 3am in the kitchen a bottle of wine deep, or that the trolley problem isn't taken wildly out of context and is all that ethics boils down to, or that not just about every popular philosphy quote is, in fact, taken wildly out of context or that Nietzsche wasn't in fact a fucking bastard and no nihilism doesn't mean what most people think it means and --

yeah just. no

[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

Let’s Get It On

How To Write Sex

Guest Poster: CB

Here is our second Writer Workshop post, written by CB. Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to share your own ideas too. 

So Your Characters Want to Bang

Welcome to my Ted Talk on How To Successfully Write Pornography! We’re going to cover a few bases here (first, second, third, and home base, to keep up with the metaphor), but feel free to reach out if you have any questions either on the Discord server or here on the Tumblr. If you take a look at my body of work you can see that a significant portion of it is explicit fic, which I’m told is a struggle for some folks.  Apparently my CPU is 80% porn.exe, so I’ve got a bit of a niche. Additionally, I’ve got a medical professional background that includes a very specific nurse certification in sex-related shenanigans, so if you’ve got questions, I’ve got answers. 

When I decide to write porn (or when my characters decide it for me), I have a few basic things that I keep in mind in order to make sure the story stays on track, the character arcs fit with the scenarios, and that everything doesn’t start to feel too formulaic.  I’m going to share my methods and maybe you will find something that helps you out or inspires you to give writing explicit fic a try!

The Mechanics

Let’s start with the basics. Fictional pornography can start to feel, well, a little bit formulaic, especially if you read or write a lot of it.  There’s a standard formula of kissing, rubbing, fingers, dicks (or other bits), everybody comes, the end! There’s nothing wrong with sticking to the basic formula, especially your first time (ha!), but here are some thoughts on how you can make sure you’re getting the specifics done and done well, and how to avoid feeling like you’ve written the sexual equivalent of an English essay. 

Lubrication.  It… really doesn’t matter exactly what kind of sex your characters are having, you can’t go wrong with lube. Getting things wet and slippery is half the fun and also twice the enjoyment. Sometimes characters decide to get it on in unfortunately risque locations, and lube may not be readily available - here is a nice list of MacGyvered lube solutions you may find helpful in that circumstance. That being said - if you are writing anal sex of some sort, lubrication is an absolute must have. 

Preparation. Otherwise known as foreplay.  Prep is and can be sexy! Everyone involved wants to have a good time, some preparation is required! I don’t just mean fingers in the butt (although that can be important too, we’re gonna get to that), but just generally building up the level of arousal over time adds to the dynamic you’re trying to create between two characters. Even if it’s fuck-or-die, sex pollen shenanigans, just talking about how hot the character feels for it is still a form of preparation/foreplay.  Specifically speaking to buttsex - the amount of prep your character needs is heavily dependent on the circumstances.  For your consideration - is this a first time sex situation, or does your character regularly bottom? Are they pressed for time, or is this a long, drawn-out affair? There is not (despite what fanfic writers would have you believe) a certain number of fingers that you have to insert into anyone’s anus that makes them ‘ready’ for sex.  A person who regularly bottoms may not need any fingering at all, in fact, but they are still going to need lube. (See point 1.) If your character has never bottomed before, they’re going to need more time and patience than a character that does it a lot, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they need more and more and more fingers. It just means they need a partner with consideration for their comfort. And lube.

Coming. People (and thus, characters) don’t often come at exactly the same time.  Frequently someone comes first. The other person may not come at all! They don’t have to! If it’s important to you, that’s fine. But it can be fun to play with the dynamics of one character coming and the other character not, because they’re caring for the first character, or because they want to wait and enjoy the burn for later, or because of whatever other reason - which brings us back to character and story dynamic. Also, playing with this particular dynamic can make your pornography feel a lot less formulaic.  Character B didn’t come because they wanted to wait and savor the feeling, and maybe in a few hours or days, Character A gets to really have a good time paying them back with a truly spectacular orgasm.  Maybe they just really wanted to see their partner fucked out and happy, and coming really wasn’t that important to them. Maybe they’re sex-postive ace, or maybe they take medication that makes sex and orgasms hard to achieve, but they still enjoy the intimacy. It’s up to you (and your characters!), but it’s not necessary for both people to come for the scene to be satisfying.

Penetration. Penetration is not the end-all-be-all of sex. Penetration isn’t even required for something to be considered sex.  Some people never want penetration, and that’s okay.  This is a good time to consider your characters’ boundaries, a good way to involve consent, and a good way to consider what kind of bedroom dynamic your characters are going to share - even or especially if it’s completely different to the dynamic they share outside the bedroom.  Is penetration necessary or important to the characters, the story, or the development of the relationship? Even if you just want to write it, that’s fine, but considering your characters’ perspective and feeling will give the act more depth and nuance.

Expectations (and subverting them so that whatever you’re writing feels fresh and different). Like I said before, there’s a certain amount of ‘this is what’s going to happen’ expectation in fictional pornography. A series of steps that you can pretty much guarantee is going to get you from point A to point F in the sexual alphabet. One of the biggest ways that you can make your sex scenes feel more intimate, more character-driven, and more unique is by subverting those expectations and doing something different that fits your dynamic better or isn’t “the norm”. For example, in a recent fic I had a character fantasize about what it would be like to have the object of their affection on their hands and knees - but when it came time for the sex, said character flipped the script and climbed on top instead! Fictional pornography isn’t real, and people don’t necessarily want realism in their fiction, but adding some realistic elements (oh no, I’ve lost the lube!/it turns out I don’t like this one thing can we try another thing/a hilarious thing has just happened) can be fun and unexpected, and make the reader more invested in your story.

So You Want To Add An Explicit Scene

You’re writing a lovely enemies to friends back to enemies to lovers arc and the time has come to do the do.  I’m excited for you! I’m excited for your characters! But now you want to know how do I add this to my story organically? How do you make this feel like a natural progression of the story, how do you segue from fighting Doombots to sweating it up in the sheets? 

The trick, in my experience, is to build up to that moment way before you get there.  You have to lay the groundwork for attraction before anyone takes off any clothes.  Does Character A get distracted during the fight by staring at Character B’s biceps? Was that an absolutely beautiful sniper shot at an impossible angle and it was so good that Character A’s breath literally catches in his chest and he nearly gets hit in the face by a robot fist? Did someone else in the battle have to remind Character B to pay attention to the fight?  Is it movie night and Character A doesn’t even know the plot of the film because they’ve been too busy staring at Character B’s face in the light of the television screen? 

A little pining goes a long way, but you have to establish attraction before your characters can act on attraction. It feels jarring to your readers if the characters hated each other two paragraphs ago and now they’re fucking in a public space.  Even if it’s hate sex, you gotta have the POV character hate how attractive they find the other character.  Then you just need an inciting event - one character takes off their shirt because it’s ripped from the fight, or they bump into each other in the communal kitchen and that hot line of their bodies pressed together sparks a kiss - and then you’re off and running! 

The exception to this might be an established relationship Plot What Plot fic, but even then, you’ve probably got an idea that sparks the actual sex - include that in your fic!

Help, This Is Moving Way Too Fast!

Oh no, the pacing is off! It happens to the best of us, don’t worry. You get in a hurry (just come already, oh my god!), and you push through to the end and then on re-read or in beta, you find that the whole thing just feels flat and rushed.  It started off so well, and then you lost something somewhere in the middle. 

The way I combat this is by focusing on how the characters feel and/or how they react to what’s happening. 

Someone’s mouth is on someone else’s body - how does the POV character feel about this? If they’re the recipient, is this the hottest thing that’s ever happened to them? Are they afraid to let go and enjoy it? Are they 404 Error: Brain Not Found? Play around with it. Does the non-POV character say something unbelievably hot/romantic/sappy/hilarious? What kind of mood are you trying to set? This is a character interaction as much as dialogue is, so you’re still working with the back-and-forth of two people who are communicating, but with their bodies. (And words too, to be honest).  If the scene is too rushed, slow it down with some internal dialogue, external dialogue, or something emotional (like a realization or an acknowledgement - oh no I love them/oh no I don’t hate them/they always take good care of me). If the scene is too long (to be honest this rarely happens, but it can), consider whether you’ve added too much dialogue or other extraneous interactions that have slowed your scene and taken attention away from what’s happening.

Help, It Sounds Like A Medical Exam

This is nearly always a terminology problem. 

I’m not here to tell you what words you can and cannot use in your sex scenes.  Everyone feels differently about acceptable terminology (though we have all laughed at dick euphemisms).  And that’s not even getting into writing fics with trans characters or different gender identities. Personally, I tend to use cock/dick for penis, and I avoid specifically naming parts for vagina-havers because I’ve never found a good one that I liked that I felt flowed smoothly in my own writing.  So this one is more nebulous because it’s a personal choice you’re making about what words do it for you and what words don’t.  It’s also, again, about your character’s perspective.  If you have a character who prefers certain terminology, that’s the terminology you use. 

Here’s what I can suggest.  Don’t focus as much on the parts of the body you’re writing, and focus much, much more on the sensations you’re creating.  There is a mouth on your POV character’s penis - how does that feel to them? Is it: hot, tight, wet, is there something happening with the tongue, are they sucking really hard, are they going really deep?  Alternatively - is the non-POV character enthusiastic? Are they into it? Is how into it they are super hot to the receiving character? Are they sloppy but determined? Beyond the physical sensation, how about emotional reactions? Has your POV character never had this before, or has no one ever treated them with such tender care? Is it the best blowjob they’ve ever received? The worst? (This can still be hot - can the POV character give them careful, precise instructions on how to do it better? Does the non-POV character find THAT extremely hot?). 

Keep in mind that you’re not writing technical directions for the characters in your scene.  (Unless you are, because you’ve discovered Gentle!Dom!Bucky, who is telling Praise!Kink!Clint exactly what to do.) You’re writing a scene that conveys something emotional to the reader.  Is it a sexy emotion? Yes, yes it is. It might also be a sad emotion, or a happy one, or any of the range of human emotions, really, but the point is that readers probably know how the sex works mechanically, what you’re trying to do is give them feelings about it.

Speaking of Feelings

Let’s talk a little bit about motivation.  Yes, even sex scenes need motivation. Not to be the prima donna actor over here, but ask yourself: Why am I writing a sex scene? 

Generally speaking, well-written sex scenes are better received if they accomplish a goal.  Writing a sex scene well is easier if you have this goal in mind before you ever sit down in front of your computer.

Does this scene advance the story? By this I mean: is this an emotional resolution, does it convey something about the characters’ relationship that cannot be conveyed in another venue or does it better express that aspect of their relationship, does it have meaning beyond the immediate gratification of an orgasm or add to the fic in some way?

Does this scene advance the relationship? Is it a big step for one or both characters? Are you showing vulnerability/trust/compassion/concern/etc? Is it an emotional milestone? Is it an expression of love that one of the characters can’t make with words but can demonstrate physically?

I’m going to pull some very specific examples from my own work, helpfully crowdsourced and reviewed by a trusted friend so that I can talk more clearly about what I mean.

Russian Red: if you haven’t read this one, it’s a story about Bucky wearing lipstick and then giving Clint a blow job. That’s it, that’s the fic. When I put it like that, it doesn’t sound all that exciting, really, and maybe it doesn’t even sound like something you’d like. A man wearing lipstick may not be your thing!! That’s okay! (And as an aside, people enjoy reading/writing things that they have absolutely zero interest in in real life, and that’s okay! Fantasies are weird like that, and a normal part of human sexuality, and we aren’t judging anyone for their kinks here.) But this fic employs very specifically some of the points I’ve made so far, so I want to talk a little about it, especially foreplay and emotional investment. 

Bucky wearing lipstick in this fic is not about Bucky at all.  It is explicitly about fulfilling a fantasy for Clint.  In fact, later in the fic, Bucky has a moment of insecurity about it because he had what he thought was a great idea, and in the moment of truth it becomes a bit of screaming panic because what if the whole thing is stupid!!!! We’ve all had that moment.  So readers can relate. But also - throughout the course of the fic it becomes something that Bucky also enjoys and finds sexy.  So there are multiple motivators: emotional satisfaction for Bucky because he’s doing something for Clint, physical satisfaction for Clint because he is getting his fantasy fulfilled, and then the added bonus of Bucky finding the whole thing unexpectedly hot means that he is also satisfied by the encounter.  I have created an emotional need that is satisfied through porn.

Emotional investment (also known as the character is putting in work).  Bucky goes through a lot to make this fantasy happen.  He has to tell Natasha what he’s doing for one thing, which is uncomfortable. A little bit of character discomfort makes the payoff at the end better, because your reader is invested in your character having a good outcome! It also shows that Bucky cares about Clint more than he cares about the mild discomfort/vulnerability of asking Natasha about lipstick for a mildly kinky thing he’s doing.

Foreplay - the more invested Bucky gets in doing this thing for Clint, the more he starts to find it hot and exciting, the more like foreplay it becomes, which means the payoff in the end is that much better. (Revisit the point on preparation from earlier!).  There is a lot of build up from the moment Bucky puts the lipstick on (tactile sensations, memories tied to lipstick, etc.) to the moment he leaves the very first red imprint of his mouth on Clint’s skin and realizes oh shit, this is hot.

This fic is very, very close, tight third-person POV.  Keeping the POV so close and tight means that your reader is very much in your POV character’s head - the reader is getting their experiences (emotional, physical, tactile senses) but they’re only able to interpret the other characters’ motivations and reactions through the lens of your POV character.  It’s trickier writing, but it means the reader is more connected to the character and therefore the porn. Also, it means that the reader is much more in tune with the non-POV characters’ reactions, which means incoherent mess is just that much hotter.

Personal Security/Security Failure: So these fics are… their own claim to fame in fandom. Gentle!Dom!Bucky and Praise!Kink!Clint have sexy, sexy adventures.  The first fic is their first meeting, the second one is fondly known as Circus Spanking. If you haven’t read them, that’s the basic summary, but please mind the tags if you choose to explore this series. Here we’re going to hit on consent, which is important and sexy, and vulnerability/trust. 

Again it’s very close, 3rd person POV, which means you’re very much in Clint’s head when he’s a wrecked, incoherent mess.  In the previous fic Bucky was watching the incoherency happen, which is very hot. In this fic the reader is experiencing the incoherency.  There’s also a lot of buildup in the first fic of Clint experiencing this inexplicable attraction to Bucky, and the confusion he has that Bucky is equally attracted to him - so like foreplay, you’re building it up before they ever take their clothes off.

Consent.  If you are dabbling anywhere in the kink neighborhood I cannot express to you how important it is to include explicit consent.  Please get a kink sensitivity reader. Don’t surprise your audience with dubious consent - make it clear and explicit from the start, even if it’s consensual nonconsent (which is a tag, but can also be addressed early with a line like ‘this is something they’d talked about previously’). But also! Consent can be sexy! It can be fun! It doesn’t have to be a drawn out contract of hard limits and detailed diagrams (though I have seen that done and done well!). Consent can be as simple as checking in with a partner if they’ve gone quiet or seem so wrecked they can’t express themselves. Consent can be one character telling another exactly what they’re going to do to them (hot hot hot!!), asking if they’re okay with it, and then doing exactly what they said.

Vulnerability/trust. Just like with the previous fic, vulnerability adds a sense of emotional intimacy that can be super hot.  If you’re writing kinky fic, vulnerability and trust go hand in hand, and show how deeply invested characters can be in each other - and that they respect and care for one another as well.  One character making themselves vulnerable to another with the understanding that the other character isn’t going to take advantage of that trust can be supernova hot if you employ it correctly. The key here is making sure that the character in the position of power respects the vulnerable character’s boundaries.  Security Failure in specific sets up an emotional need (increased trust) that is fulfilled physically by the porn that follows.  Clint needs to trust Bucky more, and Bucky needs to know that Clint trusts him.  Clint making himself super vulnerable in this fic lets both of these needs be fulfilled.

 Interactions outside the bedroom compared to interactions inside the bedroom.  In this fic, I chose to have these mirror each other - Bucky is in control of himself and in command of the situation in all of their interactions, so before they ever get naked you know what to expect from the dynamic. What can also be fun, however, is subverting expectations, so that how characters interact outside the bedroom is very different from how they interact inside the bedroom - so this is another time when knowing what your characters want/prefer is important motivation for your writing!

Character moments in your porn - there’s a scene in the first fic where Clint (this is all Clint POV) thinks about how much he likes performing a certain act, because it makes him feel good and useful.  It’s a very short interaction but it tells you a lot about the character - it tells you he likes to be useful, that he likes to be considered good (hello praise kink!), and it tells you he has low self-esteem which makes you want to wrap him up and a blanket and tuck him in and tell him how good and useful he is, but you also want Bucky to wreck him.  Your characters still have characterization, even during porn. In the second fic, we see character growth that mirrors growth within the relationship, but there’s still room to grow because Clint is still uncertain and insecure, and the fic helps advance their relationship to a new level of trust.  Through porn.

Communication, communication, communication.  Especially in kink fic but honestly in most porn - your characters have to communicate with each other! It can be nonverbal, but you’ve gotta make it clear to the reader.

The Big Finish

Everyone came (or maybe they didn’t), now what CB?

Oof, good question. 

To be honest, endings are the hardest (ha!) part.  And luckily, we’re going to have a Workshop specifically about how best to accomplish them! But as far as sexy scenes and how to wrap them up and move on, I like to use resolution of whatever need I was trying to meet, and then open the next scene with something that demonstrates a new level of intimacy/relationship dynamic/etc. if it’s part of a larger storyline, or just fade to black if it’s a one-shot. 

I hate to keep beating a dead horse, but this also depends on your motivation for writing your sex scene.  If you were trying to accomplish something with the story, then you need to somehow demonstrate that goal has been met - are they more comfortable around each other now, are they happier to show off their relationship to their friends, are they finally admitting they’re in a relationship? If you were trying to accomplish something with the relationship itself (which, as you can see, may go hand in hand with the story), then how can you show that? Does the one who usually leaves finally fall asleep in the other person’s arms? Is there a big flowery declaration? Does someone crymax? Does one partner tenderly clean the other partner up with a warm cloth and snuggle them into submission? The world is your oyster! Do what feels right for your characters and the journey you’re taking them on! 

And don’t forget the lube. 

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs: Patronizing Meeting

Primary Pairing? Trio?: MariKana... Dia? Hinted: RinPana, KotoUmi? Words: ~2.1k Rating: G AU: Theater, Werewolf, Werebeast, Monster, Cryptid

----------

Author’s Note: A bit of a detour from NicoMaki. Honestly, I thought the spotlight would first swing to YohaRiko, but this is what came to mind, so here we are.

Summary: The theater’s primary patron pays a visit.

----------

���Oh, park there, Kanan-chan!” A voice cried excitedly from the back seat.

Kanan sighed and shook her head. “We can’t just park anywhere on the street, Mari-chan.”

“Uuu…” Mari pouted. “But I want to have a good view of Dia-chan’s new theater.”

Kanan chuckled. “You can see it just fine from here, and you’ll get to see it close up in a little bit. Let me just find your designated parking slot.” She turned the steering wheel to direct the car into the lot.

“We have a designated spot?”

“Of course, you do. Didn’t you read the email Dia-chan sent the other day?”

“I skimmed it.”

“All of the top tier patrons have designated parking slots.” Kanan explained. “And since your donation was the largest, even managing to edge out the Nishikino family, you get the best spot.”

“Of course mine was the highest, I want to help my Dia-chan however I can.”

Her Dia-chan… Kanan mused silently. If only…

While it was true that the three of them had grown up together, they had lost track of each other back in high school when Mari spent her second and third years over seas in the United States before going to college in Italy. Dia also left to attend college in Tokyo, leaving Kanan alone in Numazu.

It had barely been a year since Mari tried to reestablish contact. She managed to convince Kanan to leave the dive shop in the capable hands of a cousin, move to Tokyo and open a new shop right on Odaiba Beach. However, she ended up spending much of her time driving Mari around and leaving the shop to her employees. Not that she minded this arrangement. She enjoyed the excuse to spend time with Mari, and if she was being completely honest, knowing the blonde’s habits behind the wheel, it let her worry less for her friend’s safety.

Driving was also a way for Kanan to feel like she was contributing to the household. Mari was obviously the primary bread winner, so Kanan liked to do things in return.

Mari had found a huge 3LDK penthouse apartment where she invited Kanan and Dia to live with her. However, thus far, only Kanan had accepted. Dia, unfortunately, had been less responsive to either of their efforts to reconnect. But there was a room was open for her to accept at any time.

“Ah, here we are.” Kanan spotted the slot and pulled in.

“Eh? The best parking is on the second level?” Mari sounded confused.

She really didn’t read the email… “Of course, this is where the skyway entrance is.” Kanan explained.

“Skyway? Booo… I wanna see the main entrance!”

At this Kanan laughed. “Alright, just let me message Dia-chan to tell her where to meet us.”

With that said, Kanan exited the vehicle and was about to open the door for Mari, when the blonde hopped out herself instead.

“<Let’s go!>” Mari cheered in English, offering a brilliant smile and pumping a fist into the air.

Kanan pulled out her phone as she followed her energetic friend toward the stairway.

Krakanan: Mari-chan wants to see the main entrance, so we’re heading there instead

KurosawaDia: Very well. See you two in a few minutes.

KurosawaDia: Umi-san will be joining me.

Krakanan: I figured as such

Krakanan: I look forward to meeting your new business partner

Krakanan: I’ve heard good things about the Sonoda Theater Group

Not expecting a response, Kanan returned her phone to her pocket and continued her way toward the front doors of the theater. She and Mari made their way across the street, around the corner and..

“Dia-cha~n!” Mari cried, running up the handful of steps between the sidewalk and the entry and all but tackle hugging the raven-haired woman at the top.

“Salutations, Mari-san.” Dia greeted. “Thank you for coming today. I look forward to introducing you to the cast and crew.”

“Always so formal, Dia-chan.” Mari pouted. “It’s been for~ever~ since we saw each other, you should be more excited.”

Something changed in Dia’s expression. Just for a second. Had Kanan blinked, she would have missed it. And she had no idea what to make of it.

“Anyway,” Dia said after a moment “please allow me to introduce you to my partner in this endeavor, Sonoda Umi.” She pulled an arm free of Mari’s embrace to indicate the blue-haired girl beside them.

“Thank you for your generous donation, Ohara-san.” Umi said with a bow.

“Ohara-san?” Mari repeated. “<No, no, no.> You can just call me Mari. Any friend of Dia-chan is a friend of mine, Umi-chan.”

Pink dusted Umi’s cheeks undoubtedly caused by the casual referral. “V-very well, Mari-san it is.”

“Anyway, what a lovely place you two have here.” Mari finally released Dia and stepped down a few stairs to get a better view of the façade above her. “But, Sonoda Kurosawa Theater? Really?”

“We decided it best to put Umi-san’s name first.” Dia explained. “Her family is more renowned here in Tokyo than my own.”

“No, that’s not it.” Mari dismissed. “I meant, why just your names? That’s so boring!”

“How do you mean?”

“You should call it something more exciting, like The Monster Mash!”

“That is a song, and a dance type.”

“Or how about Tales from the Cryptids?”

Dia sighed. “That’s just a play on the title of an old television show.”

“But I mean that’s what this whole place is about, right? Giving our kind a place to be what they are while excusing any slipups as movie magic?”

“Theater magic, but you’re not exactly wrong.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Umi spoke up “but should we really be discussing such things out in the open like this?”

“Oh, you worry too much, Umi-chan.” Mari waved her hand at the other woman.

“No, Umi-san has a point.” Dia conceded. “Let’s head inside, shall we?” She turned and motioned for the others to follow.

“Fine.” Mari crossed her arms before moving back up the steps. “But you guys hired that Yoshiko girl, right? I think we’ve all seen how her claims are reacted to by the general public.”

Kanan couldn’t help enjoying the show as she watched her friends behave pretty much the same as they did back in high school. They really hadn’t changed much… except for whatever that crack in Dia’s demeanor had meant. She decided she could explore that issue later and smiled to herself as she followed the others into the theater.

“<SHINY!!>” Mari proclaimed, throwing the front doors wide as she entered.

“Pigi!” A voice squealed as a head of red hair ducked below a nearby counter.

Ah, of course Dia-chan would bring Ruby-chan here with her. Kanan thought to herself. I wonder if that means Hanamaru-chan is around here somewhere as well.

“You can come out, Ruby.” Dia said, her tone softening immediately as she called her younger sister and moved toward where she was hiding. “It’s just Mari-san being her usual boisterous self.”

“Mari-chan?” Ruby poked her head up. Emerald eyes sparked with recognition. “Mari-chan! Kanan-chan!” She ran to greet the two excitedly.

As Mari happened to be closer, she greeted the blonde first with a warm embrace. However, she was quick to shift to Kanan to welcome her as well.

“Good to see you again, Ruby-chan.” Kanan said as they parted. “We’ll have to catch up sometime soon.”

“Mm.” Ruby agreed with a smile. “Are you two the reason for the meeting?”

“They are.” Dia confirmed. “I want everyone to meet some of our generous patrons. I believe we have the Nishikinos slated for tomorrow?” She turned to Umi who confirmed with a nod. “Anyway, speaking of the meeting, we should head to the stage now for it.” She was about to turn and resume walking when…

“One last thing, Dia-chan.” Kanan spoke up.

“Yes, Kanan-san?”

Kanan spread her arms wide. “Hagu.”

Dia flushed a little but smiled anyway and stepped into the embrace.

“It’s… good to see you again, Kanan-san.” Dia spoke quietly, surprising Kanan. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little cold as of late.”

Then, all too soon, as far as Kanan was concerned, Dia pulled out of the hug and resumed leading the way through the theater to the stage. Upon arrival, Umi and Dia began their introduction of the theater’s patron, Mari.

It seemed Dia’s penchant for long drawn out speeches hadn’t changed. Kanan considered. And it seemed she had found a business partner with similar tastes.

Ah, there’s Hanamaru-chan. Kanan thought as she scanned the crowd gathered on stage. Next, she picked out Chika and You, remembering their faces from back in Numazu. She made a mental note to greet them all after the meeting.

She recognized Nico and Maki from pictures included in emails sent by Dia about the lead roles for their first production. A few other faces looked familiar from other pictures, but she couldn’t readily place their names.

Still, it was amusing to observe some of the body language of those gathered. There was a young woman with red hair both longer and darker than Ruby’s. She was giving nervous side glances to a shorter girl near her. That girl had some of her blue hair tied up in a bun with a black feather sticking out. Wait, was that the Yoshiko girl Mari had mentioned a few minutes ago?

Next was an ash blonde whose attention seemed focused on Umi. Then, there was another redhead with braided twin tails who looked quite friendly standing next to slightly taller woman whose aura was as cool as the dark blue of her hair. A bespectacled brunette was looking at Nico like a fan waiting for an autograph. A darker brunette with a lovely red ribbon in her hair next to another ash blonde sporting an uneven, though cute haircut. A short pink haired girl with a blank expression stood next to a taller blonde with a brilliant smile. Then a sleepy looking brunette, a raven-haired young woman giving off a fiery aura, another with the tips of her dark twin-tails dyed green and a redhead with a stylish bun surrounded by a braid.

Quite the crew. Kanan found herself wondering what each might be.

“Food’s here, nya!” A voice cried from somewhere in the auditorium before an orange-haired blur scampered down the aisle. “Where do you wanna set up, Umi-chan?” A young woman asked, not seeming to care that Dia was still talking.

“Rin.” Umi scolded. “You’re early.”

“Better than late, right? Oh! Kayo-chin is here!” Rin scampered over to the brunette with glasses.

“R-Rin-chan...” Kayo-chin? said as Rin rubbed their cheeks together. That must be a nickname.

Kanan wondered if the nya had been indicative of her actually being a cat or just a verbal tic. Based on her running speed, Kanan suspected the former, though both wouldn’t surprise her.

“Special delivery!” Another voice rang out.

“Honoka, you’re…” Umi started.

“Ooo, what did you guys order for us?” Mari interrupted.

“We got lots of stuff!” Rin announced proudly. “But I gotta set up the tables and such for Honoka-chan to put things on.”

“Do you need help carrying anything?” The braided redhead spoke up.

“Sure! Lemme show ya, nya!” Rin sped back up the aisle.

“Emma-san…” Umi sighed as the redhead followed.

“It’s alright.” Dia said. “We’ve already lost Mari-san.” She turned back to her staff. “It seems the meeting is adjourned. Please be sure to thank Mari-san for sponsoring this meal, brought to us by Kousaka Catering.”

“I thought she didn’t know what was ordered?” Umi raised an eyebrow.

“I placed the order. Mari paid the bill.”

“I see.”

“There’s plenty of food!” Mari announced loudly. “Don’t hold back! Eat all you want! Take some home if you want. I don’t want to see anything left.”

As Kanan headed up the aisle to see what else needed to be carried in, she mused about the appetites of those she knew. If those were any indications of the others, she wondered just how much had been ordered. She figured it would probably fill an entire…

Box truck.

Sure enough, parked haphazardly on the sidewalk, emblazoned with Kousaka Catering on the side, sat a box truck. And it indeed appeared to be completely packed.

She spotted Emma carrying several catering boxes, stacked past her head.

“The breadsticks are buono!” The young woman said as she passed.

Part of Kanan wanted to break out her other arms in an attempt to carry even more boxes, but as there was no shortage of witnesses on the public street, she settled for a similarly sized stack as Emma. Perhaps some other time. No more than three steps later, and Rin was already slipping past her, carrying only half as many boxes, but speeding along at probably thrice Kanan’s pace.

Again, Kanan found herself wondering what all everyone was. She knew Mari would want to stop by the theater on a regular basis, so perhaps over the next week or so, she could find out.

----------

Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

[writtenonnapkins]

The New Girl Pt. 2!!

Credit for Universe goes to @lumosinlove

TW: Drunk stories and closeted experiences 

Unfortunately, it turns out Remus wasn’t a secret drag queen in college, rather it was Tonks that brought a reluctant Remus with her. That doesn’t mean the pictures of an exasperated Remus surrounded by drag queens and kings weren’t going to be used as teasing material later though.

“I only went because Dora loved it, I think we can all agree it is not really my crowd,” Remus joked, taking Tonk’s phone away from the grabby hands of the team.

 “Common Loops, you looked like you were right at home!” James said, nudging him playfully. Remus just rolled his eyes and stood to take some of the plates to the kitchen. The dinner was mostly over by now, except for Tonks who had spent most of the meal telling increasingly wild stories about her and Rem’s times at the drag club. 

Everyone seemed full and happy, both from the food and the fact that Tonks fit right into the dynamic of the group. They had been worried, some more than others *cough cough Logan*, that she wouldn’t fit in and the easy family dynamic would be lost. 

Their concern was for nothing though, as Tonks took to their ribbing and humor like a fish to water. It also helped that she knew more about how to embarrass Re than anyone else. Already she had Remus blushing more than they had seen him do in weeks.

“Aw Remy, you loved it because you love me. Everyone thought you were so chivalrous, catering to all my whims,” Tonks threw over her shoulder despite the food she was stuffing in her mouth. 

A few people around the large table exchanged glances. Well that sounded like it had romantic undertones. 

Remus reentered the room once again rolling his eyes in Tonks’s direction. 

“Yes, yes. Drag shows, helping with your cosplay, dying your hair. I was the best boyfriend in the whole athletic dorm, what a tragedy we didn’t stay together,” Remus said sarcastically like it was something they had heard many times.

Sirius felt like his brain was rebooting. Remus had a girlfriend in college? And she was now living with them and Remus didn’t tell him? And they used to be roommates? 

Now Sirius wasn’t the jealous type, he knew Remus loved him and neither one was interested in sharing. And from what he’d seen, vibes between Tonks and Remus were more like siblings than romantic. But still, it seems like something Re would have told Sirius about. They had even talked about experiences they had in the bedroom and he was certain a girl was never brought up in relation to Remus. 

Sirius looked away from Remus and noticed James looking between the two of them a bit concerned. Mother hen. He was probably trying to figure out if he needed to get everyone to leave so they could talk. 

Everyone else in the room was silent, still taking in this new information so Sirius just shrugged at James before turning back to where Tonks and Remus looked to be talking with their eyebrows. 

“You guys dated?” Sirius broke the silence.

“Technically no,” Tonks said, turning away from her eyebrow conversation. “But also technically yes.”

Well that wasn’t helpful. 

Remus, who seemed to read the confusion on everyone's faces, sighed before clarifying.

“Tonks was my beard. And I was hers. Easiest way to avoid questions was to be in a relationship. Jeez, not like either one of us could come out.”

“Bestie beards,” Tonks chirped, “Big thing in student athlete circles, at least when we were there. Dorcas dated Peter, Mary dated Evan. Everyone was actually gay and hiding it.”

They explained with oddly fond tones how their friend circle at college was mostly closeted kids, yet their friend group had a reputation for serial dating in their friend group. 

“Except for us, the ship of the hockey, tennis, and soccer departments. Best couple goals four years running,” Tonk said punching Remus’s shoulder. 

“Jeez the amount of condolence messages I got from people after you came out and started dating Fleur. We had been “broken up” for a year, it was sad.”

Everyone started teasing them and asking more and more questions about their life as a gay straight couple. The memories seemed fond, but both of them looked like they wished they had been able to be open then. Tonks joked about how she honestly didn’t know how people didn’t pick up on the fact that she was so, so lesbian when she dragged Remus to drag shows, cut her hair into a pixie cut and then dyed it bright purple. 

Everyone moved into the living room as Tonks continued to share about their life in college. 

“Our first kiss was disgusting. Awful,” Tonk lamented.

“Aw Loops, hadn’t learned how to kiss yet had you?” Talker teased much to everyone’s amusement. Remus just laughed, cringing at the memory. 

Apparently they had been two rooms down from each other in the CoEd athletic suites. They hit it off immediately, and like the closeted college freshman they were, decided to kiss and see what happened. It was, for obvious reasons, unsatisfactory for the both of them. 

They decided that they both were definitely, definitely gay. But since they were athletes and being gay in a college locker room at that point was still a big big taboo, they figured they would just tell people they were dating. At that point they had already been hanging out during most of their free time and were in the same major so it was an easy transition. People had been asking them if they were hooking up anyway, might as well use it.

“We got better at kissing when in public eventually,” Tonks concluded, “Especially when we were both wasted!”

Ah yes. Finally. The drunk stories.

Remus, however, seemed hesitant to allow those stories to be told. Tonks was getting a wicked gleam in her eyes and looked like she knew she was going to enjoy this. Oh yes, Sirius thought, these stories were about to be gold. 

“He used to kiss me every time he was about to do something dangerous or generally frowned upon,” Tonk started. “Especially throwing himself onto tables, stripping, fighting especially.”

“Fighting?” Natalie questioned, “Remus was a fighter?”

“Oh was he a fighter!” Tonk exclaimed, turning back to look at Remus who had a sheepish look on his face. “They don’t know about you fighting!?”

“I have grown up you know,” Remus mutters, knowing that she wasn’t really looking for and answer.

“Remus used to fight everything that even slightly insulted any of his friends. That boy would launch himself head first into so many fights I lost track,” Tonks said, “And he would do damage too, All those hockey muscles. Don’t let the thin frame fool you, Remy is all muscle and he knew how to use it, my god. He would deck anyone who said anything about my hair without thinking about it. Little demon he is.”

Everyone was definitely shocked by this revelation. The Remus they knew was not one to fight people, especially physically. Sirius on the other hand, was a little less surprised. Remus had told him that he used to have an anger problem before his shoulder got torn apart, tending to use his fists first. 

Sirius expected Remus to look upset about what Tonks was telling everyone, he had been when telling Sirius about his past anger problems, but Re just looked amused at the reactions of everyone in the room.

“Just to clarify, I do not fight nor do I want to fight anymore. However I find the surprised looks on your faces when she said I would win very insulting,” Remus joked with everyone.

The tension in the room broke and everyone started laughing and asking about Re’s past as a jock asshole who defended his fake girlfriend to the death. 

The rest of the night passed with laughter and many more stories exposing Remus for the wild child he was in college. Tonks was a very entertaining storyteller, and her and Re’s friendship had clearly not been diminished by distance.

The whole team left feeling like they knew their new teammate better having learned about his life before Gryffindor. And they were very much so looking forward to seeing Tonks and Remus interact at work when they had to be professional with each other as PT and player. Already there seemed to be a rivalry between the two about Loops trying to be his own PT and Tonks not letting him.

Everyone was feeling much more confident with having a new PT now that they had met Tonks. And the possibilities of more embarrassing Remus stories certainly didn’t hurt their excitement either. 

[m0r1bund]

Happy Indigenous Peoples’ Day!

10/12/20:

So. If you’ve been here a year or more, you might know that I have this little journal from back in 2018 that I try to update every year with works from local indigenous artists / created in collaboration with indigenous folks.

It was once hosted on another site, but that one’s since gone to hell! So, I’m shuffling it over here and giving it a little TLC : -) Enjoy!

◆

10/8/18:

You can probably glean from my work that I owe intensely to the people of the Sonoran Desert and surrounding communities. Since it’s Indigenous Peoples’ Day, I’m going to share a few works from (mostly southwestern) native artists that have really impressed on me. If you enjoy anything that I do, I think you’ll enjoy their work even more!

Tyler Bighorse and Suite 104

I was introduced to the work of Tyler Bighorse in downtown Flagstaff, where he runs a gallery called Suite 104.

If you're ever in the area I really recommend dropping by! He sells prints and originals of his works there, as well as other local artists' work. (snagged this sick Legend of Zelda spread for my bro while I was up there.)

  Mulaka, by Lienzo

Synopsis, from their website:

Dive into northern Mexico’s breathtaking landscapes with Mulaka, a 3D action-adventure game based on the rich indigenous culture of the Tarahumara. Renowned for their impressive running abilities, embark on the journey of a Sukurúame - a Tarahumara shaman - as you fight back the foulness corrupting the land, while drawing upon the powers of demigods.

Mulaka was developed by the Chihuahua-based game company Lienzo in conjunction with Rarámuri leaders and anthropologists. Lienzo also aims to keep their game dev local to Chihuahua, which I think is extremely badass.

And the music just. rules. ( Town of Paquimé / Nini Areware Ne Chunume )

Quantum Tangle (Grey Gritt and Tiffany Ayalik)

Quantum Tangle is really really good. Like, really really good. Blurb from their old bandcamp:

Fusing of old-world sounds and new-world flair, the Juno Award-winning group Quantum Tangle is embracing their blended background. Combining their talents of throat singing, haunting melodies and traditional legends, Grey Gritt and Tiffany Ayalik are excited to present pieces that look back through history to challenge, educate and encourage the next generation to be socially aware.

The unfortunate news is that their website went down earlier in the year : -( But the good news is their work is still floating around the internet. I believe you can find them on Spotify and other streaming services as well. Here is a favorite, a love ode of sorts called Igluvut:

My other favourites for first-time listeners are Love is Love pt. 2 and Tiny Hands : -)

Oral History of the Yavapai, by Mike Harrison and John Williams

Three tribes of Yavapai got together at Bloody Basin. Kewevkepaya, Wipukpa and Yavepe. Three of them. They get together and cook mescal, cook deer. Get together and eat, dance and have a good time. But the soldiers met them there and killed them. Then the White people called the place Bloody Basin. Called it after our blood.

- Oral History of the Yavapai I originally stumbled across this book (in reality a word-for-word chronicle of oral history told by Mike Harrison and John Williams, two Yavapai elders) through one of the sources cited in this blog post: The True Victims of “Bloody Basin” Were the Yavapai.

It really struck me, because to that point all major publications that I'd read had unquestioningly ran the old U.S. Army account of how Bloody Basin got its name (Check out the Verde Independent’s article here, and AZcentral’s take here.) It frames the massacre not only as a “punitive expedition,” but also incorrectly names the victims as Tonto-Apache-- The Dilzhe’e are a distinct people, though the Yavapai people were often conflated with them. It’s much harder to get folks into books, but if you have any interest in the history of the Salt River Valley or surrounding areas at all, this was an invaluable read to me. Be aware that it is vibrant and devastating in equal measures-- but if you can handle it, I highly recommend it.

◆

10/14/19 Additions

The writing of Darcie Little Badger

The Whalebone Parrot and Owl Vs. The Neighborhood Watch were my introductions to Darcie's work and they are so, so full of wit, character, and ghoulish suspense... the kind of stories you would read to family and friends as Halloween closes in, this time of year. I am only familiar with her mystery and horror-adjacent short stories at the moment, but I hope to become better acquainted with her body of work in the near future. You can find a list here, many of which you can read online for free!

Anyway. Let me leave you with the Inherent Horror of Birds (from The Whalebone Parrot,) which I don't think I've seen any other writer capture so artfully:

I wonder if all parrots have dancing eyes. The pupils are in a state of constant flux, contracting and expanding. Big, small, big, small.

“What song is that?” I asked. Her pupils danced: large, small, large. She possessed parrot eyes and parrot songs.

10/12/20 Update: Darcie Little Badger recently published her first book, Elatsoe! Check it here : -)

Imagine an America very similar to our own. It’s got homework, best friends, and pistachio ice cream. There are some differences. This America has been shaped dramatically by the magic, monsters, knowledge, and legends of its peoples, those Indigenous and those not. Some of these forces are charmingly everyday, like the ability to make an orb of light appear or travel across the world through rings of fungi. But other forces are less charming and should never see the light of day.

Seventeen-year-old Elatsoe (“Ellie” for short) lives in this slightly stranger America. She can raise the ghosts of dead animals, a skill passed down through generations of her Lipan Apache family. Her beloved cousin has just been murdered, in a town that wants no prying eyes. But she is going to do more than pry. The picture-perfect façade of Willowbee masks gruesome secrets, and she will rely on her wits, skills, and friends to tear off the mask and protect her family.

The pottery of Nathan Youngblood

I learned of Nathan Youngblood's work scarcely a week ago, during a visit to the Heard Museum, and it very nearly made me start hooting and hollering in the middle of the museum. It is, without exaggeration, unlike any kind of craft I've ever seen before. His work is something of a marriage between the Santa Clara pottery tradition with Asian ceramics and other traditions world-wide, and it's a coupling that is at once startlingly familiar and yet completely unique.

The art, writing, and games of Elizabeth LaPensée

Elizabeth is perhaps best known for creating Thunderbird Strike!

(synopsis from its website: )

In the 2D sidescroller Thunderbird Strike, fly from the Tar Sands to the Great Lakes as a thunderbird protecting Turtle Island with searing lightning against the snake that threatens to swallow the lands and waters whole.

But she has a very wide and rich body of work, and among my personal favourites are her visual art. She employs digital collage to create these sort of iconographic pieces, and to me there's a certain joy in the way her work employs silhouette and contour, tracing the shape of a body, the environment within that body, and its place in its environment. It's not something that I can really do justice by describing, so here's a favourite from her ("Thunderbird Circles") that I have on my wall:

[thesecondcircleofkel]

NSFW Alphabet, Hawks: A-Z

Reposting all of these together for convenience and to save space. I don’t accept requests to do the entire alphabet for someone all at once. You have to stick to the guidelines of 1 character per ask, and 5 letters per ask, and once I finish the alphabet for a character with requests like that, I will repost it all together. Request are closed at the moment, though.  

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He can be a bit lazy with aftercare. He likes to bask in the afterglow for a while after sex, and he’s not going to move much during that. His wings really come in handy at this point, though, because while he may not be too keen on moving his body, he doesn’t have any issues with using his feathers to get you anything that you need. Beyond that, though, just let the man chill out for a moment, and he’s totally down to cuddle for a bit if you want to.

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, the obvious answer would be his wings. And he does love them; they’re a unique and gorgeous feature that very few people have, and he’s been able to do some fantastic hero work with them. He likes his eyes just a little bit more, though; he can churn out some really smoldering looks with them when he wants to, and he likes how those looks can have you panting in seconds.

On his partner, he’s torn between your ass and chest. He loves to leave marks all over your chest, but he also likes to grab a handful of your ass during sex. Both are visually appealing, too, so he honestly can’t decide between them.

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He’s not picky about where comes, like, at all. He can see the appeal in coming inside of you and on you because he mainly just likes to make a bit of a mess with his cum, and he can do that via either method. His cum is a little on the thin side, but it’s still thick enough not to be too runny. The taste leaves a bit to be desired because he’s not exactly picky about what he eats.

D: Dirty Secret

He’s not exactly embarrassed by it, so much so that he’s actually planning out the logistics of it to try to make it happen, but most people would still frown on it so it still counts as a dirty secret: he wants to fuck you while flying at least once, just to say that he can and did.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not as much as you’d think, surprisingly. Yes, he’s pretty and he’s got droves of people swooning over him, but he’s also really, really busy. He’s had his own hero agency since he was 18 and he’s been a top hero since then, too, and that doesn’t leave a lot of spare time for anything, much less dating or even one-night stands. He certainly knows what he’s doing, but most of that comes from research instead of gained experience.

F: Favorite Position

He can be a bit lazy during sex, so he loves any position where you ride him, particularly Cowgirl, but he will have to sit up a bit on account of his wings.

Leopard- he loves to see you stretched out in front of him as you work yourself on his cock, plus the view of your ass is to die for.

Oath- he thinks it’s pretty intimate, plus he can easily run his hands all over your body in this position, especially your chest.

Emperor-it gives him a damn good view of your entire body as you lounge out like a king/queen, plus it doesn’t irritate his wings.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

He can definitely be a bit more on the goofy side during sex. He can be serious if you want him to, but he generally prefers to be more playful with you than anything, and if you think that he won’t tickle you with his feathers during the act just to get a laugh out of you, you’re dead wrong.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)

It’s all feathers…

I’m kidding, of course. The carpet is slightly darker than the drapes, and there isn’t a whole lot of it. What little there is of it is neatly trimmed, though.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Sex with Hawks can be pretty intimate, with those smoldering eyes of his and the constant hold that he’ll have on your waist. He realizes that his busy schedule doesn’t always allow him to be the most attentive of lovers, so he really cherishes the moments that he does have with you, and he’ll use sex as the perfect opportunity to remind you of how much he loves and needs you.

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off a fair amount. He’s a young guy in his prime, and he’s got the sex drive to go along with that. Unfortunately, he’s also a busy guy, and it’s gotten to the point where he has to schedule his ‘personal time’ or else he won’t get around to it. It’s the same situation when it comes to having sex with his partner, and that’s something that upsets him greatly.

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He’s definitely into using his feathers on you, especially for teasing, so Quirk/Sensation Play. It’s nice to use something that the public reveres him for in such a debauched way.

Voyeurism and Exhibitionism also make the list, but he’s definitely more into the former option. Does he make an active effort to catch you in any sort of indecent act? Yes, without question.

He’s also into Bondage, and it’s split 50/50 as to which one of you will get tied up, but if you get to have your way with him, just tease the hell out of him and you’ll be his favorite person in the world (as if you weren’t already).

He’s not as open about this one, and he has no idea where it came from, but he’s also into a bit of Degradation. On him.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He not picky in regards to location. He’ll be just as happy to fuck you in his bed as he will to fuck you in his office. He is pretty fond of you riding him on the couch, though, especially when the two of you are enjoying a rare lazy day together.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Spontaneity- if you can find some time in his schedule that he somehow missed to throw down, go for it. He really hates being forced to schedule sex because of his job, and he’ll be absolutely thrilled (and turned on) at the prospect of being able to take you when it wasn’t on his schedule.

Wear something that shows off your assets, whether that be a tight shirt or pair of shorts, a low-cut shirt, or some snazzy underwear that he can catch a small glimpse of. His eyes will be glued to you the entire day until he can have you, and then he’ll be sure to pay extra attention to the assets that you showed off.

His wings are totally sensitive around their base and touching him there is a good way to get him hard pretty quickly.

N: NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s pretty open-minded, so there isn’t much that he won’t try when it comes to sex, although he is a bit remiss to hurt you in any way. However, if you’re convincing enough and you start off slow and easy, he’ll give it a go.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn’t have a preference over one or the other, but lord are his oral skills something to write home about. He likes to take his time when he goes down on you, really savoring your taste as he teases you with small licks and nips to your thighs right as you think that he’s about to give you what you want. He loves to see you panting with need, so he’ll tease you for a while before he finally lets you cum. As for receiving, blowjobs are one of his favorite ways to relax. He’ll groan and throw his head back, closing his eyes and enjoying every little thing that you do when you give him oral. He’d like it if you took your time with him, just so he can relax and destress for as long as he can.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Whenever he has the time to be properly intimate with you, he prefers a slow pace. It doesn’t necessarily have to be sensual (he would definitely be down for some slow giggly sex, too), but wants to take it slow so he can have the time to truly appreciate your body and memorize it in all of its glory. With how busy he is, it may be a while before he can have you again, so he wants to make sure that each session lasts long enough for the both of you to be satisfied for a least a little bit.

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He is so down for quickies. As stated in his ‘Jack Off’ section, he’s so busy working as a hero that is has gotten to the point that he has to schedule his intimate times with you just to make sure that they actually happen, and that greatly irritates him. Because of that, though, he gets really excited whenever you find some time that wasn’t on his schedule to be intimate with him, and quickies work great for that.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

If it wasn’t clear enough in his ‘Dirty Secret’, Hawks is all for taking risks. He kind of sees them as a challenge, to see how he can best use his wits to avoid being caught, and the added thrill is a nice bonus to that.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

He tends to get fairly worn out after sex, so one round is about all he’s got, but it’s a fairly long round, especially when foreplay is factored, so you’ll be more than satisfied by the end of it.

T: Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Hawks is all for using sex toys. They’re great for foreplay, they’re great for teasing, hell, they’re great for just about everything in his opinion. He’ll just as gladly use them on you as he’ll let you use them on him, and the naughtier the toy, the better.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Hawks is a huge fucking tease in the bedroom, but believe it or not, he actually has a preference for being teased rather than being the teaser. Both work as good stress relievers for him, but being at your mercy and having you push him to the brink with teasing is the best stress relief in the world in his opinion.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

This man has no damn shame when it comes to volume. He’s naturally loud during sex and he knows it, and he doesn’t care. He refuses to hold himself back. He’s going to let you know how good you’re making him feel, and he’s going to do his damnedest to get you to be as loud as he is.

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

He loves to tease you with his feathers. Yes, he’ll use them for some sensation play during sex, and yes, he’ll send a few of them to lightly run over your exposed skin at random points while you two are home together, but he’s also not shy about sending one down your pants to bring you to orgasm before he’s even touched you. He’ll just be standing there, grinning like a fool the whole time, too. It may not have been the most convenient thing in the world for you to have an orgasm while you were figuring out what to make for dinner, but hey, an orgasm is an orgasm. It’s his way of making up for being busy all the time, and even if he can’t have a full session of sex with you, he can at least make sure that you stay satisfied, even if he does it a bit facetiously.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

His dick is slightly thinner than average (around 4 inches), but length-wise he’s a little above average at around 5 ¾ -6 inches. He also has a slight upwards curve that’s bound to hit all sorts of nice spots.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is pretty high, which is kind of unfortunate since he doesn’t get to act on it that much with how busy he is. He could have sex multiple times every day if he had the opportunity to, but fate is not on his side in that matter, so he takes what he can whenever he can get it.

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As mentioned in his ‘Aftercare’ and ‘Stamina’ sections, he gets a bit tired after sex and he prefers to just chill for a while afterwards. He will definitely fall asleep if he has the chance to, but if not, then he can begrudgingly get up to carry on with his day.

[cherryfi]

Blame it on the Bokbunja

Requested: Anon asks:  haii!!! could you please make ateez san agent au? the concept is up to youuu thank youu

 Plot: The mission objective was simple - take Choi San down by any means necessary. What you didn't expect was how it was to get him alone. You also didn't expect him to be this endearing.

A/N: I got so much inspiration for this wow, I didn’t expect it to be so long, I hope you like it anon! I hope the rest of you like it too aha!

TW: Alcohol drinking, drugging, mentions of violence

Word count: 9462

The mission’s objective was short and simple: Eliminate Choi San– make his empire crumble from the top, down. It would be like cutting the head off a snake, the body wouldn’t be able to sustain itself.

What was not simple, however, would be to actually make that happen.

Choi San was not only one of the most dangerous men in the city, He controlled at least half of the country’s black market and most of its organised crime could be traced back to his syndicate, Ateez. San had inherited this legacy from his father, Jisung, who had ruled the mafia with an iron fist.

Choi Jisung had been an orphan who grew up on the streets and who, together with seven other ‘friends’ built themselves one of the most heavily controlled and untouchable gangs the country had seen. He was highly intelligent and had an impeccable eye for detail. Nothing got past him and no one was able to double-cross him without ending up dead.

Contrary to how he ran his gang, Jisung’s family was his sanctuary and he always pandered to their every need – they wanted for nothing. This could be seen by the countless evidence photos showing family holidays; where he doted on his wife and only son, San.

According to the evidence file, San had been trained from birth to take over the leadership position from his father. And along with the syndicate’s seven other sons they were taught the skills necessary for running a ruthless and successful gang.

Taking over the ‘family’, unfortunately, came earlier than was anticipated for a 16-year-old San when his parents were murdered by a group of upstarts hoping to take over their territory. Jisung had been betrayed by one of his soldiers (Lee Sungjoo, who was paid off for information about Jisung’s whereabouts), who was quickly ‘done away with’ by the other men in the syndeo.

The Lee family were offered a rare show of kindness by San and Sungjoo’s son, Taeyong, remained a close friend. Taeyong went on to run an equally dangerous gang NCT, although both groups deferred to each other.

San’s first order of business upon receiving his crown was to obliterate the would-be rivals, making sure that any other competition knew that he would not take kindly to any threat towards his territory or family. His reputation had quickly been set and in no time,  he was known across the country as being even more ruthless than his father had been.

Whether it was his training from a young age, the need to prove to his doubters that he was as good as his father, or being fuelled by pure revenge – no one could tell but, what they did know, was that Choi San was not a man to be messed with.

And even so – he was fiercely untouchable. Despite being able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat and knowing his weaponry, San was never alone. The other members, having been friends since childhood were all protective of each other.

So, how were you supposed to take a man like that down?

It wasn’t going to be an easy feat and that’s why they’d called you in. You were a top operative but, you were only ever behind the scenes. Part of the ‘clean-up’ crew, your job was to go in after the field operatives had done their jobs and tie up any loose ends but, every field assassin that had been sent in after San had ended up dead.

It was time for a new strategy, and they hoped that sending in a fresh face with all new ideas and a whole different skill set would be what they needed. There was also a hope that it would flush out the mole that was sending San their mission information. After all, there was no way that he could foil all their plans without inside help.

How you fit into that, you weren’t sure. Technically, clean-up was less qualified than field crew, you were all combat trained, but clean-up didn’t use it as often nor did they go undercover as often but; somehow, they expected it to work.

It wasn’t working.

You’d gone over every possible point of entry into Ateez and none were viable – you’d eventually end up dead or discovered in all of them. They’d all been tried by other operatives and had failed.

Not that the corporation cared. They were putting pressure on you to succeed.

Thankfully, after 2 months of trying to find your way in, an opportunity dropped itself in your lap – as if by magic. And who were you to turn down a good opportunity?

What does a mafioso do when he’s not being a mafioso? He runs a ‘legitimate’ business.

And San was the silent owner of an exclusive bar: ‘The Noir Lounge’.

The Noir lounge was a swanky speak-easy that was a member’s only bar. People only knew about it ‘by word of mouth’ and so, it’s customers and clientele were often very important and high-class, according to the case file even the city mayor and a few city officials were members.

Although it was a bar, the lounge also had a selection of private rooms and a sex club. So, it was important that members remained unknown to the general public. Some of these men and women were married, after all.

It surprised you that they’d be advertising a position for a new bartender but, you weren’t about to let it pass you by.

You applied.

The application process was unique, it constituted of an extensive background check and multiple interviews but, that was to be expected.

None of those interviews had been with San.

It was a Wednesday morning when you got the call.

“Hello Ms Y/L/N? Your application to join the staff at the Noir lounge has been successful. Congratulations. Your start is immediate and so we will expect to see you tonight at 7pm before the bar opens to collect your uniform and go over housekeeping. Please bring with you comfortable, black, smart shoes. You’ve been sent an email with the address. I look forward to meeting you tonight. Enjoy the rest of your day.” That was it. The voice on the other end was soft-spoken but deep and masculine. He also didn’t give you his name.

He was highly professional and curt – giving you no opportunity to respond, you barely got out a ‘hi’ before he spoke.

But that didn’t matter because you got the job. A chill ran down your back both from excitement and terror.

Now it began. You would have to fit into the bar like any other employee – naïve to what was going on behind the scenes but, also interesting enough that you would somehow be allowed to enter the inner circle .

From the outside, the bar looked like any industrial building and you would never be able to suspect that it was teeming with activity underneath. If you didn’t have intel telling you where it was you would’ve gotten lost.

You arrived at 6:45 – 15 minutes before you were required to be there and buzzed on the door 3 times slowly, just as you’d been told to do. It opened and you were wordlessly led down into the lounge.

It was beautiful and crafted in a style that you would’ve expected of Choi San, classy, expensive but, simple.

“Ah Y/N. You’re early which is a good sign. I’m Park Seonghwa, I spoke to you on the phone, it’s good to finally meet you. I’ll be your manager while you’re working with us.” You took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly, smiling.

“Hi Mr Park, Thanks for the opportunity, I look forward to working here.” Of course, you knew who Park Seonghwa was.

On the surface he appeared to normal. Seonghwa was tall, handsome and friendly. It would be easy to fall for him but, he wasn’t a man to trifled with. Seonghwa was Ateez’s resident doctor, if any of the members of the syndicate were injured, they went to him to be fixed up but, that was only the half of it. If there was a poison, best believe that Seonghwa had experimented with it and he was often called in when Ateez needed someone silently ‘taken care off’.

“Ha, that sounds so formal, just call me Seonghwa. We’ll be spending enough time together working that I’ll get to know all about you. We’ll be best friends, just you watch. It’s better that we start off casually.”

‘I’ll get to know all about you.’- I certainly hope not.

You smile shyly – “Okay.”

“Seonghwa, stop flirting with the staff, even if they are gorgeous.” You almost let yourself swoon but remember who you’re talking to -Kim Hongjoong.

Seonghwa was low-key in his work and despite his extensive knowledge of poisons – he rarely got his hands dirty. Hongjoong, on the other hand, was covered in it.

Hongjoong was the ‘answers man’. You’d been disgusted almost to the point of physical sickness when you’d seen his case file. Hongjoong was the king of sadists and incredibly thorough. When Ateez needed answers and had particularly difficult adversaries, they sent them to Hongjoong. The things that man could do with a scouring pad and some hydrogen peroxide were terrifying and he took great pride in that.

But here he was, smiling at you with an almost innocent curiosity, no sign of the sick bastard that he really was.

“I’m Hongjoong. We just had a meeting here so the rest should be filing out soon and then you can open the bar. There’s another bartender working with you tonight but, it won’t be too busy. It’s never too busy on a Wednesday.” He smiled and shook your hand.

I wonder how many lives those hands have taken.

You try not to shudder at the thought.

Hongjoong was right – things were slow that night, which was good because it gave you he opportunity to get used to mixing complicated drinks and taking orders.

Your patrons ranged from well-known politicians to celebrities to other mafia members that were known to your organisation. But no San.

As a matter of fact, over the next 2 months, the only member you saw was Seonghwa and he was often distant.

The promise of casual conversations and time spent together was quickly forgotten and Seonghwa was business as usual. You only saw him at opening and closing time – he was always in a private room at the back of the club – probably with the other members but, they had their own bartender and so, you never saw any of them.

This didn’t bode well for you. It had been 4 months since you’d been given this mission and you were no closer to completion, the bosses weren’t happy to hear this.

Your work phone rang; and it sent a shudder down your spine – you knew you were in for it now.

“Status report?” Well hello to you too…

“No change. The target is yet to be seen. I’ve acquired new work but, no further advancements have been made.” You could hear the disapproving noises from the other line.

“This is unfavourable, we would have expected some status update from you other than a bartending job Y/N. Are you sure you’re the right person for this job?” Now, you were angry, first they leave you to take care of this alone and then they question your methods.

It was true that you were stumped as to your next move but, they didn’t know that. They had no place to criticise you, given how many operatives they’d already lost.

“Am I the right person? You tell me. Given the fact that I was threatened with forced resignation if I didn’t take this job, I can assure you that I wasn’t the one that made the decision to be here. The target is dangerous. I need to play the slow game. Rome wasn’t built in a day and given the amount of lives that have been lost trying to destroy them, I’d expect a little more support.” The line goes silent.

“We’ll call you for another status report in 3 months we expect progress.” And just like that, the line was dead. If you didn’t tread carefully – you would be too.

It was another month before anything happened. It was like you’d completed some probation period because suddenly, you were being told that you would be a personal bartender.

“Y/N. Just the girl I wanted to see.” Seonghwa’s wide smile greeted from the other side of the bar where you stood, restocking it. You turned to look at him.

“Hey Seonghwa, what’s up?” You returned the friendly smile.

“I have a new position for you. We’re having a separate event in one of the other private lounges and I figured you could use the experience of being a private bartender. It’s a little different to being behind the general bar; it’s more intimate and the people you’ll be serving will expect a lot more of you but, no pressure. I’ll be there if you need some guidance.” He leans on the table, his sleeves rolled up and you catch a little glimpse of a tattoo.

“Can I ask what the special event is?” You really have no clue what it could be.

“A birthday, that’s all I’ll tell you now. Don’t look so scared, you’ll be fine.” He reaches across the bar and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You’re scared for another reason. The realisation hits you like a bucket of ice water as your mind runs through all their files.

It was San’s birthday.

You were finally going to meet San and for some reason, it felt too soon.

They were different to how you’d expected them to be, their case files and photos had not prepared you for how normal they appeared. They were friendly and jovial.

Even Jongho, who was known to be quite cold was actually friendly, if not a little awkward.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your thoughts became completely scattered as you came face to face with your target.

He smirked at you and laughed a little your shock, his dimples on full display.

“Uh, sorry, I was spaced-out. What can I get you?” Play dumb Y/N – you’re not supposed to know this man.

“Yeah, I could tell, it’s not busy in here so I guess you’ve got a lot of time on your hands. I’ll have a French 75.” You balk. A what?!

“Let me guess, you’ve never made one of those? It’s not a regular one to get ordered despite it being a classic. Get a champagne flute.” You do as order and automatically go to put a cube of ice.

“No, no ice. It’s served straight-up. Pour 2oz Champagne, ½ oz of lemon juice, 1 oz gin – the Santamania is the best for this one and normally it’s 2 dashes sugar syrup but, I’ve got a sweet-tooth so give me 4. Rim the glass with some sugar and you’ve got yourself a classic.” He finishes with a wink and you follow his direction, Finishing it off with a lemon slice.

You slide it across to him on a napkin and wait expectantly.

San is not the kind of man you want to disappoint.

I hope I make a good impression.

“That’s a good 75. You know it’s supposedly named after a WW1 gun. It was the Howitzer 75mm, the French and Americans used it all throughout the war. Apparently, the cocktail’s got a kick just like the gun. By the way, if it’s in a slim glass, like the flute, never put ice with it. Ruins the experience. A flute glass is used when you want to keep the texture of the drink,  you want it to keep the bubbles. That’s part of the experience.” His eyes glint boyishly; and you smile as he explains more information about the cocktails.

In another life you might have found yourself falling for a man like him, he was oddly cute.

“You know, it’s not ordered regularly but, it’s a classic cocktail, perfect for bringing in the new year or celebrating another one. I’m San by the way.” He smiles for real this time, dimples on full blast, and you can’t help but, smile back. He shakes your hand.

Damn, he was charming.

“I didn’t think I’d meet a cocktail nerd.” He barks out a laugh.

“You have to be when you run a bar.” You put on your most shocked face.

“You own this place?” He nods.

“It was mean wasn’t it? Not telling you that I’m the owner but, Seonghwa talks about you so much, I had to see what was so special about you.”

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?” You answer him, a little flirty, hoping that that would open him up to you.

He only laughs.

“I’m not sure yet but, we’ll see.”

Your next status report goes a lot better.

“Update Y/N.”

“I’m almost part of the inner circle. A rival gang offered me money to rat on them and I told my manager so, they had no excuse but to tell me what was going on. The members have been conducting business around me now so, it’s a sign of good things to come.” The line is silent again but, you’re not in fear of the response. They wanted progress, they got it.

“And what about the target?” You sigh.

“I can’t get him alone. None of the members will leave him alone, he’s always surrounded.” It was true be it Hongjoong, or Wooyoung, San was always with someone. If San was around, you could easily find Wooyoung somewhere nearby.

Besides the only times you’d been within killing distance of San was during the meetings, where you would serve drinks. You served drinks ,and they talked.  

“What’s your next plan of action?” You sigh again.

“The only thing I haven’t tried: overt flirting.”

“Okay but be careful.” The line went dead again.

You had to put your plan into action.

The only time you got to see San on his own was during select night when he would randomly enter the bar. He’d spend the whole by your bar, just taking in the scenery and occasionally talking to the patrons but, rarely did he speak to you.

To top it all off, Wooyoung or Mingi were always in earshot of you.

How am I going to pull this off?

Your mission’s completion was so close you could taste it. All you had to do now was make San want to get you alone and you’d have him but, you had to tread lightly. It was around this point in the mission that a lot of operatives had lost their lives – they got cocky or crumbled under the pressure of the corporation’s demands.

You wouldn’t end up like that.

Your chance came 2 months later.

“She was cute.” It was a Friday night, but it was at the start of service, so the bar was still quiet. A few of the bar’s members had already arrived; tired and weary from their work weeks (or from the debts they owed to San).

Like the city mayor. He was in the bar and had been downing straight vodka for the last half hour but, you knew why.

He’d just walked out of a meeting with San and Hongjoong. Hongjoong had a wild grin on his face and San was fuming. The mayor’s re-election had been an odd one. Odd because nobody expected him to win so, when he clinched it, eyebrows were raised but, no one said anything.

San had bought him the election and now he owed San.

You almost felt bad for him but, he deserved it and now wasn’t the time anyway – San was finally alone.

Well, he was, a pretty girl in a blue, velvet dress swayed up to him, taking the bar stool next to him. He made eye-contact with you and you quickly busied yourself; shining glasses. He paid her no mind.

He didn’t even respond to her flirtations. She eventually huffed and walked off.

“Yeah, she was. See that guy over there? That’s Son Hyun-woo. You don’t need to know about who he is but, that girl, is a gift from him. He’s trying to keep me sweet Y/N. I’m not interested. I’m not an easy man to buy.” His stare is intense, and you find yourself struggling to look away.

He breaks out into a slow smile.

“What time are you working tomorrow Y/N?” You don’t really know where he’s going with this.

“I’m in at 7 – same time as always.” You shrug, keeping your tone light and San looks around thoughtfully.

“You’re a good bartender but, I want you to learn some of the more unique drinks. Come in at 5. Don’t worry it’ll be paid. I’m giving you a one on one cocktail class.” He flashes his dimples at you, and you agree.

Time  to put your plan in action.

You head into the bar at 5 to find San already there.

“Y/N! You ready for your masterclass?” He clasps his hands together and rolls up his sleeves, you sit across from him – curious about the array of glasses and alcohols.

One thing was clear – San didn’t respond well to obvious flirtations so; your plan would need tweaking. Maybe you could charm him with your intelligence?

“Get behind here Y/N. You can’t make drinks from that side.”

“Alright. I’m here.” He smiles at you again.

“The first one we’re going to make is a clover club. This one predates the prohibition era in America. It was popular in Philadelphia; where it was created. It’s a classy, aromatic drink; reportedly drunk by literary experts and high-class men. That’s why it’s served in a cocktail or martini glass – so you can take in the aroma before you sip it.” You watch him expertly mix the drink.

“ ½ oz Gin, ¾ oz lemon juice, ¼ oz raspberry syrup or grenadine and one egg white. We make it thick by shaking the ingredients up in a shaker with ice but, serve it dry. Rim the glass with sugar and some frozen raspberries. Go on try it.” He nods encouragingly and you take a sip, he pours himself a glass as well and you look at him curiously.

“What? Shouldn’t I be able to savour the fruits of my labour?” You roll your eyes and he winks at you.

He’s right – you smell the gin and the raspberry syrup. It’s sweet and tart and surprisingly its thickness doesn’t take away from its enjoyability.

He takes you through other cocktails, making you try each one: La Paloma, the Penicillin, The Martinez, the Corpse reviver – you try them all and eventually you’re a little tipsy. He seems completely unaffected by the alcohol.

Bad move.

San looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I made this one myself. Have you ever heard of Bokbunja?” You shake your head, no, and try to steady yourself; giggling when San stands close to you from behind, whispering in your ear.

“It’s a wine that we make from Korean Blackberries. It’s made in the same way as wine but, it has a higher alcohol content. Its acidity makes it perfect for seafood.” You sigh when he wraps his arms around your waist, his breath fans across your ear and jaw. It smells like the last cocktail.

“It’s also perfect with fresh mint, I like to add it with sour mix and elderflower as well. You know why it’s so popular in Korea? Apparently, it’s an aphrodisiac. I don’t know about that but, I know it makes you quite hot under the collar. If you plan on getting fucked later in the night – Bokbunja is the way to go. Now that I think about it, maybe it is an aphrodisiac. Try it and tell me.” San’s lips ghost across the shell of your ear and he pulls away to guide your hands.

You haven’t even sipped it yet and you’re already hot under the collar.

“Take a sip. Do you like that Y/N? Does it make you feel hot?” You moan quietly.

You finally come to your senses when you feel his lips on your neck.

This wasn’t part of the plan – you were supposed to seduce him not the other way around.

“San, I don’t think this is a good idea but, thank you for the lesson.” You pull away from him and he only laughs. You put your hands on his chest. His grey, silk shirt feels good under your palms.

He obviously has expensive taste.

“Maybe you’re right but, you can’t say you don’t want it, want me.” He’s right and suddenly, you don’t think you can carry out the rest of your mission. If you keep feeling this way, you might end up compromised.

You almost fell under his spell and if you didn’t get a grip soon, you’d fail your mission.

Failure wasn’t an option.

But San didn’t make it easy.

Somehow, he’d only gotten worse. Before, you couldn’t get him alone but now? You couldn’t keep him away. Every time you came to work San was there.

He was sweet, he was kind, he was flirtatious.

And those damn dimples.

“Status report, Y/N.” God, where do I begin?

“In the last month, things have advanced a lot. San, I mean the target and I have spent more time together.” There is a pleased sound on the other line.

“This is good. You should complete your mission soon then I assume?” You cringe.

“There is a slight problem – the target has been pushing his sexual advances heavily. I fear I won’t be able to complete my mission without giving in to them.” There’s a huff on the line and you sigh.

“Do you know what ‘by any means necessary’ means, Y/N? We gave you a mission to complete. If that means giving into the target, then do it. Don’t be shy now – these things are often necessary and expected of our field operatives. Make yourself pretty, visit a spa if you must. But, your mission must be completed within the next 2 days or we’re pulling the plug on it and you.”

“2 days?! How am I supposed to do this in 2 days?” You’re beside yourself in anger and bewilderment.

“By any means necessary, Y/N.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“We don’t make threats, it’s a warning. Y/N if he wants you then it should be easy to strike him off. We expect you to deliver in 2 days – we will be in touch.” The line goes dead as your heart drops to your feet.

You have no choice, but to do as told.

As usual, your shift doesn’t start until 7 so, you spend your day at the spa.

You get everything, from a full body wax to a shiatzu, to a manicure – all on the corporation’s dime but, none of the treatments are enough to ease your nerves.

You’d expect that after a day of hot stone massages and saunas, you’d expect all your kinks and sore muscles to be worked out but, instead you feel like a taut rubber band; ready to snap.

It’s now or never.

You wear a new set of lingerie under your uniform for later that night. It’s lacy and rubs against your skin airily and a little rough; the colour complements your skin perfectly. It should make you feel sexy but, you feel filthy instead.

You feel like a whore.

Your hands shake as you place the gun under your clothes and it’s never felt heavier. When you get to work you put it in your bag and in your locker instead, the feeling of the metal on your body making you sick.

As if the universe wants to play a sick joke on you, all the members are unexpectedly at the bar. They’re finishing up on their meeting as you step in and they all greet you once you step behind the bar.

“How are you Y/N? You’re looking a little green.” Jongho studies you but, drops it quickly when you tell him that you’re just not feeling well.

As a matter of fact – all the members were studying you, aware that you weren’t your usual self but, San told them all to step off.

“You’re so used to people acting suspicious that you’ll give this poor girl the 3rd degree? She’s just a little unwell, right Y/N? I think something’s going around, the other bartender called in sick today.” You can only nod, scared that your voice will betray you.

“You know what’s good for that gin and tonic. Here drink up.” He makes you a single with ice and you down it quickly, trying to cover how much your hands shake.

Can you really kill Choi San?

The answer is no, no you can’t.

Your shift goes by uneventfully and you leave work, disappointed.

The ball of tension in your stomach has grown tighter and you’re thankful for your day off but, it’s also your deadline day.

You only had one day to finish your job and you’d failed – you were screwed.

Yeosang calls you in the morning.

“Y/N? This is Yeosang, San would like to see you at his home this morning, it’s to discuss your job. A car will be by your home in 20 minutes.” You nearly collapsed; San wanted you to visit him?

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be ready.” You said your goodbyes and Yeosang hung up.

Were you getting fired?

You didn’t have time to ruminate on it – you quickly got ready for this impromptu meeting placing a small blade in your shoe.

It wasn’t what you would have planned but, you had to improvise.

 The car journey was deathly silent. Wooyoung picked you up and after a short hello, he didn’t say anything else.

He knows. He has to know.

Wooyoung kept stealing glances at you in his rear-view mirror but, wouldn’t say anything, his expression was blank. There must have been a reason why he’d been the one to pick you up, given how close he was to San.

“We’re here Y/N. Just head up to the front door, the butler’s waiting for you.” Wooyoung turns to you and holds your stare for longer than expected. It makes you squirm under his gaze, while he searches your eyes. Your body’s tense with anxiety.

After a moment of you sitting frozen, he laughs shortly.

“They’re waiting for you inside Y/N.” You get out quickly, taking your bag with you.

You’d decided to pack a gun in the end as well, hopeful that you’d be able to end it all quickly, it felt heavy in your bag.

There was a lot more to Choi San than you’d read in his case file. Behind all the bloodshed and cruelty of his world, was a charming man that just wanted to live a normal life.

Could you really blame him for how he ended up, given that this was the only life he’d ever known?

You shake your head at the thought. A criminal was a criminal, regardless of how they got there.

You had a mission to complete, you steeled yourself as you walked up to the front door. Wooyoung drove away once you were at the top of the stairs.

San’s home was completely different to the bar. Where the Noir Lounge was cool and chic with its black interior and classy upholstery, San’s house was light and airy: it felt like a home. Even from the outside, the large, gated state-home looked inviting.

With its lush gardens and gravel driveway, even the wall surrounding the home was unintimidating. You could imagine San entertaining friends and gusts in his home or relaxing in his front room. You could almost imagine yourself right there beside him.

As you walked to the front door, it opened.

They really are waiting for me.

“Miss Y/N, Mr Choi is waiting for you in the dining room. I will bring you to him now. My name is Jiwon, I’m the personal butler for this home and I hope you’ll be enjoying your stay with us.” He guides you through the door, walking you across the marble floor after asking you to remove your shoes and giving you a pair of house slippers.

Jiwon is efficient and he moves fast. As soon as your slippers are on, he guides  you to the dining room giving you little time to get look at the house (or recover your knife) but, what you took in was gorgeous. The doorway led to a large staircase on your right but, Jiwon led you down back, and as promised into the dining room.

It was beautiful.

You breathe deeply to ease your panic. It doesn’t work.

The dining room was an extension of the kitchen but made completely of glass, the sun rays shone into it and you could see another lush garden outside.  In the centre stood a large mahogany dining table big enough to sit at least 20 people. But for now, it only sat one.

San.

“Mr Choi, your guest is here.” He turned to look at you, a dazzling smile on his lips, his eyes practically disappearing. Your heart sped up just looking at him.

He was dressed casually today, in joggers and a t shirt but, that didn’t take away from how beautiful he was.

“Thank you Jiwon. Y/N. Come have a seat by me. Let’s talk.” He pats the seat next to him and you take it, a shaky breath leaving your body. You were going to be alone with him.

Silently, you hoped that Jiwon wouldn’t leave.

“I will be by shortly, with today’s brunch, we have a selection of light foods, such as smoked salmon and cream-cheese bruschetta and some Scandinavian pastries for you to try miss Y/N as well some palette cleansers.” Jiwon smiles at you directly and you return it. In the little time you’ve seen him, you liked him.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“The chef is incredible Y/N, you won’t be disappointed. Thank you Jiwon, I’m giving you the rest of the day off so please, go and enjoy yourself.” You panic a little.

You’re definitely going to be alone with Choi San. Your training kicks into overdrive as you try to casually look for all possible escape routes in case things went south.

It was now or never – you’d never have another opportunity to finish your mission.

“Now Y/N. I’m really sorry to call you here on your day off but, don’t worry, you’ll be paid. I wanted to discuss how things are going with your work. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

A proposition? Your ears perked up. What kind of proposition could he have for you and what did it have to do with the job you already had? Whatever it was, you were sure that it wouldn’t bode well for you. You’d have to put your mission on hold even further, much to your own chagrin and worse - you’d have to report it back to your superiors. Would they give you the benefit of the doubt? You could only hope that you’d be able to convince them that this new job would be a good opportunity to not only take Ateez down but, to take down their associates as well. As long as you spun this roadblock into an opportunity, you’d be able to come out of this on the other side but, whether or not it was unscathed was left to be seen. Up to this point, you hadn’t actually gotten involved in the seedy underbelly of the ateez syndicate - after all you were just a bartender and aside from San’s constant flirtations and being privy to some of the more intimate details of their work, you hadn’t really been involved in dealings. Hell, the members aside from Seonghwa and occasionally Hongjoong hadn’t had more than light conversation with you. This would be a perfect opportunity.

Your musings were quickly interrupted when Jiwon came back in, followed by the rest of the staff. There were 2 other staff members, one of whom you assumed was the chef: given his uniform. “Brunch is served. We have a selection of charcuterie and sandwiches as well as the palette cleansers, as promised. I recommend the gooseberries over the hazelnut coffee for this particular selection but, I’ve put both here as I know how you enjoy your caffeine, San. Please also enjoy, the selection of cakes.” The chef bows to signal his end and San dismisses the staff with a quick smile.

“ I’m sure that Jiwon’s told you, you have the weekend off. I’ll clear the table myself. Don’t worry. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I’ll see you all Monday morning. ”

Now you’re really scared.

The whole weekend? This must have been big. You watch them file out of the room, a sense of heavy dread filling you as they go. “Now that I have you all to myself; let’s talk business.” He rubs his hands together, smirking at you.

“As you know, you’ve been working with me for a little while and I’m impressed with your work. But,  I’m also quite fond of you Y/N; which makes me privy to a little bias, don’t you think?” He smiles a little and pours himself a cup of coffee. You watch the liquid fill the glass mug, too scared to meet his eyes. The liquid swirls disturbed by the movement and you watch as it settles.

San blows on the mug and takes a tentative sip. “I, uh guess.” you say dumbly. San Laughs. “That was rhetorical Y/N. Please eat something. I want you relaxed. You’re as stiff as a board.” You try to laugh it off when he reaches out to touch your shoulder, but the sound is weak and pathetic.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to brunch dates.” You could kill yourself. You cringe as soon as the words leave your mouth. Dear Lord, please let the ground open up and swallow me whole! Date?! Why did you say that Y/N?

“Is this a date Y/N?” He’s back to teasing you again, his tone mischievous and you know there’s no way he’s going to back down now.

You swallow your pride. “I uh, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” You cringe and turn your attention to the Danish pastries, trying to distract yourself. “Because I would like that very much. Actually, you beat me to the punch. That’s what I wanted to talk about.” You look at him in shock. You lean forward curiously and San places a bottle of bokbunja on the table in between you.

You glance between it and him, a little perplexed.

“You remember what happened when you and I had this drink don’t you? And since then, we’ve been dancing around each other, playing a very dangerous game. I don’t like games Y/N, I like honesty. And honestly, I want you and I’m no psychic but, I know you want me too.” He leans into you and rests his hand under your chin: his thumb resting on your lips.

You don’t pull away, instead your lips part instinctively. Your eyes are still downcast, looking at the pastry in your hands. “Look at me, when I’m talking to you Y/N. Let me see those beautiful eyes. You can’t hide from me anymore.” You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are intense. They’re ablaze with passion and fondness.

He pulls away from you and your breath stutters. He was right. You wanted him but, a mission was a mission. It needed to be fulfilled.

Yet, somehow, you’re starting to think that it’s not all that important anymore.

“Now, as much as I want you, I also know how dangerous it is to mix business and pleasure. So, I have a decision for you to make. Would you like to be mine?” You gasp.

He remains unfazed and carries on. Your eyes bug out.

“If you say no that’s okay. We’ll carry on as normal and you won’t have to bother about any awkwardness between us, I’m a professional man after all. But, if you say yes, you’ll have to quit. I won’t be able to keep my hands off you at work once I’ve had a taste of you and I won’t want to. I also won’t be able to hold my tongue if one of those disgusting men flirt with you, I can barely restrain myself as it is. If only you knew how vile they were. But I promise I’ll help you find work somewhere else if you’d like. I also promise to cherish you for everything you’re worth, I’ll take such good care of you.” Your heart swells at his words. The look of seriousness in his eyes has you breathless.

“San can I, can I think about this?” Your eyes gaze at him, pleading for him to understand how hard that decision was to make.

Even harder, given that you’re supposed assassinate him, right Y/N? This wasn’t fair. Life just wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t he be like every other high-stakes criminal? A pig who wanted nothing more than to fatten themselves up off the back of everyone else’s work. Why couldn’t he be 2 dimensional? Black and white? Just pure evil? Why was Choi San so god damned loveable?

His casefile spoke of a deeply troubled and highly dangerous man who had no issue with disposing of anyone. People were pawns to be used and boy was he good at using them. But the man before you was nothing like that. He was fiercely loyal and passionate. Driven, hardworking, and kind.

San was everything you’d ever wanted in a man and then some and it was your job to kill him. You’d been compromised. There was no way that you’d be able to do harm to him now but, there was also no way that you could go into corporate HQ empty handed.

Your mission statement had been clear: failure meant being burned. Which meant definite death for you. If you could stall San, it would give you the chance to run. You’d disappear into the wind probably somewhere where they couldn’t find you. You’d leave him a warning and disappear for good.

Yeah, you could do that… Except- San’s eyes darkened. His face set in determination “No. No Y/N , you don’t get time to think about it. This is a onetime offer. I’m not going to let you keep running from this."  He held your wrists in his hands shaking them lightly; prompting you to look directly into his eyes.

"I’m putting everything that I am out there, I’m offering you my heart Y/N. I don’t think I can sit around and wait while you decide whether or not I’m worth it.” This was new. San looked so vulnerable as he held your hands in his.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no. Screw your mission - somehow, you’d make it work.

Eventually, you’d have to tell him that you were a plant but, that could wait.

“Okay San, I quit. I’m all yours.” Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. But he hears you. San pulls you forward, wrapping his arms around you and trapping you with a kiss. You taste the hint of coffee left in his lips and the sugar from your pastry: sweet and bitter, just like the situation you were in now.

Your lips move against each other slowly, San takes his time with you, running his hands over your body; caressing every inch that his hands touch.

When San pulls back, he looks like a dream. His dimpled smile stretches across his face, eyes almost disappearing, his hair tousled from you running your hands through it. His lips are spit-slicked and swollen and the prettiest shade of cherry red.

You feel like a teenager experiencing their first kiss all over again, except this time it’s not disappointing. You’re giddy and you can feel your face heating up.

“I’m really happy that you’re here with me Y/N. We should celebrate. How about a drink?” He holds up the bottle of Bokbunja and shakes it.

“Yeah, let’s celebrate.” You sigh, the gravity of your decision finally settling in on you. There was no way you were going to be able to get through this. If you ran now, the corporation would find you and if they didn’t you were certain that San would.

“Let me get us some wine glasses.” He pats your thigh and gets up, taking the bottle of wine with him.  Being alone with your thoughts for that short time was driving you crazy.

How were you going to get out of the situation you’d put yourself in? You’d been trained for almost every possible situation but, there was no training for what to do when you fell for your target.

You’re pulled out of your stupor when San returns with the 2 glasses of wine, placing 1 in front of you.

You try to smile convincingly but, it felt more like a grimace but, you still try to play your role. “What should we toast to?”

San thinks for a moment.

“We should toast to something cheesy like, ‘new beginnings’ or to ‘us’.” He laughs at how cheesy it sounds and your heart swells at his sudden shyness

“Okay, to us it is. To us.” You both raise your glasses together, clinking them and then you drink.

You chug the wine, hoping that a little liquid courage would help you relax.

“Woah slow down there Y/N.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, it’s a really nice wine.” You smile sheepishly and rapidly blink – your vision going a little hazy. You try to hide how nervous you are as you pour another glass for yourself.

San pulls his chair back from the table and sits across from you. You try to reach out for him, but your arm feels heavy.

San just watches you, his expression distant.

“I’m glad you liked the wine, I added something a little different to yours though. Can you feel it Y/N? Seonghwa said you would, he said it was fast acting. It really looks like it’s working. I’ll have to thank him.” You look at him quizzically and try to shake off the brain fog, but  you can’t. Your mind is hazier than ever.

You didn’t drink that much, what did Seonghwa have to do with the wine?

It clicks in your mind and you watch as San’s sombre expression. Your mind runs back to your fact files. Seonghwa was a chemicals expert. He played around with poisons.

You try to convey your alarm, but your head and eyes are too heavy.

“whaid you doo tme?” Inside your head, you’re panicking but, outside you can’t move, you’re slowly losing consciousness.

“I didn’t do anything to you Y/N. You did this to yourself.” You try to fight back as San picks you up bridal style but, your body isn’t working with you. Mounting panic gives way to artificial indifference and your vision narrows down to a pinhead. Everything goes black.

You came to, slowly. The first thing you noticed was that you were sprawled out on your back and that your arms were aching. Trying to stretch them out, you realise with a start that they’re bound to bed posts. Your body slips on black satin sheets as you try to sit up. “Keep calm Y/N, keep calm.” The panic is setting in, freezing your body and you know if you let it take you over that logic will leave.

“Yeah Y/N, stay calm. I’m sure this will all blow over.” In taking stock of your current, bound state, you didn’t even realise that San was watching you. He regards you silently but, coldly. His eyes holding none of the previous love and softness.

You’ve been had. You realised it too late. And now you’re going to die. But you don’t want to die.

Your breath comes in short puffs, quickly increasing and your head is beginning to spin. The feeling of pins and needles travels across your fingertips. Tears start to prick at your eyes.

San quickly gets up from his seat in the middle of the room and sits next to you on the bed. “Calm down Y/N, I need you to breathe slowly. Especially because I need you to be coherent for what I’m going to say."  You try to do as your told and flinch when San reaches towards your face and wipes away your tears.

"I don’t like games Y/N but, that doesn’t mean that I’m not good at playing them. I always win. You’ve been playing a slow game with me and I’m really not happy about it.” He leans in close and you try to back away from him, but the sheets aren’t on your side, you’re still groggy.

“I know who you work for. I’ve always known.” Your heart rate picks up at that. You’d had a feeling that he would’ve found out but, not that he had always known.

“Now, before you go getting yourself into a panic. I’m not going to kill you. No, you could be of some use to me. I’m going to ask you some questions honey and if I think you’re lying, I might have to send you to Hongjoong and we both know what will happen if I do. But, if you’re good and you tell me the truth, I might just let you off the hook.” San’s hand grips your inner thigh and then he pulls back; getting up from beside you and pulling his chair to the end of the bed.

You can only watch him, your mind running through all the possible ways you could get away from him. Your mind comes up short.

“The corporation put another hit out on me, yeah? It doesn’t surprise me but, what does is why they would send a lower level spy so, why you? And remember princess honesty is the only thing that will keep you safe.” He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and looks at you expectantly.

“They couldn’t figure out why every assassin they sent was getting killed so they figured you must have insider info on who they were sending. Lower level means less clearance so they sent me in because it would be hush hush. Less people to get permission from, meant less people involved, lower chance of failure.” He nods and furrows his brows.

“So, was the aim to still kill me?” “Yes.” You’re surprised to see the flash of hurt pass by his features but, it surprises you even more that it affected you so much.

Killing someone was one thing, telling them was another.

“When.” He watches you carefully, daring you to lie to him. “My deadline was today.” He sighs, nodding.

“What stopped you?"  You can’t answer him. Because I fell in love, was such a cliché response and it would’ve sounded 2 dimensional given the situation you were in now.

San was clearly hurt so most likely wouldn’t believe anything that sappy but, it was true.

Even after being mildly poisoned and tied up your feelings didn’t waiver and even before this, you’d been planning on how to leave him unscathed.

"You’re taking too long Y/N, don’t li-” “I fell in love with you.” You blurt it out before you can second guess it. He looks at with a blank expression, his lips pressed tightly together.

He doesn’t believe you.

“You wanted honesty so here it is. I started doubting my ability to carry out the mission as soon as you guys started letting me into your inner circle. I didn’t get that close to your business, but I got close to you guys; I have so much in common with Yunho and Jongho showed me all his tech stuff and I had lunch with Hongjoong and his mum. His mother, San. The closer I got to all of you the more I didn’t want to carry this out. I was meant to do it yesterday but, I just couldn’t. I can’t hurt you. ” A fresh wave of tears flow from your eyes.

San gets up, wordlessly and walks away, shocking you. It’s over.

“Don’t look so panicked.” He sits by you, tissues in in hand and wipes your tears. “I’m not going anywhere but, I don’t think you want tears drying on your face.”   He’s smiles at you tenderly.

“Untie me San.” The smile drops off his face.

“Why would I do that? Thank you for your honesty but, that doesn’t let you off the hook just yet. Do you have any idea who, exactly, you’re working for Y/N? Because I do.  Your boss has been living on my dime for years, he was even on my father’s books.”  

“For what exactly?” You’re shocked but, not exactly sure what this has to do with you.

“Let’s just say that your boss has a few extra-curricular activities that would put a damper on his career goals. He wants to run for government one day and there’s no way he can do it if the info I have on him gets out.” The cogs are turning in your head, hearing what he’s saying.

“You’re telling me, that Kim Jinyoung, the same Kim Jinyoung who’s been strait-laced his whole career, who’s been responsible for removing some of the worst careered criminals off the streets, who has a doting wife and 4 kids; is in the back pocket of your gang? That’s not possible San and I’m not playing your game. Just hurry up and kill me.” Oof, you don’t know where that came from, probably the frustration of being tied up and realising that you’ve been had the entire time.

But think about it, Y/N, if San can be good despite what his casefile says then, Jinyoung has every possibility of being vile.

San gets up and reaches for a manila file in the bedside table.

“I thought you’d say that. I normally have these files stored away but, I bought this one just for you. Let me show you what he’s been up to. Here’s one of him doing cocaine. Here’s one of him drinking with Taeyong at one of Taeyong’s parties; I’m sure you know who Taeyong is. And, this one’s my favourite: him being spanked by a girl at Mingi’s strip club. So, tell me again that I’m lying.” You’re left speechless, unsure of what to say and having no clue where to even begin.

San pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again. You only look at him in bewilderment.

“Look, I’m not going to kill you Y/N. If I’d planned on doing it, I would have killed you already.” He pulls the key from his trousers and undoes the cuffs around your wrists. You rub them gingerly and flex your fingers – trying to get the feeling back into them.

He unties your feet as well and sits back in his chair.

“I’m also not letting you leave. I’ve had a mole in the corporation for a while, I’ve known this was coming. But I wasn’t expecting to get feelings for you. The plan was to play with you and Jinyoung, make him think he’d finally gotten the one-up on me and once he’d gotten comfortable or you thought you were close enough, I was going to send you to him in pieces.” Your body runs cold and you start to shake.

San had planned on mutilating you?

“Well what stopped you?” You want to look defiant; you want to appear strong but, the question comes out in pathetic whisper.

“You were only doing your job. As were all of the assassins. They were given choices. Stay or die. 4 stayed and they work for Ateez now and 1 was disposed of. You’re the only one I’ve fallen for and trust me when I say that I love you. My proposition still stands Y/N, although in a different way. I want you by my side but, obviously that means quitting your job – your real job. If not, I’ll let you go; I can’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else, not even your boss.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb lovingly.

You lean forward, closing the distance and kiss him slowly.

When you pull back, his cheeks are dusted with pink but, he still looks unsure.

“Choi San, I quit.”

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 10

*y/n’s point of view*

The VMAs are important. Important because it’s the launching pad for the rest of awards season. Important because, despite the lack of legitimacy of the show anymore, the general public still tuned in. It was a valuable opportunity to get your artist where they wanted to go. And the VMAs was Normani’s night to make it or break it, which meant it was your night to make it or break it. Everyone was tuning in to see what would happen. Which meant it was a stressful time in your life, one that needed care and precision. So you thought that maybe...maybe there was a way you could take the edge off a little bit.

It’s a Saturday, the week before the show, and Shawn and you had somehow managed to not leave the bed all day. Not even just for sex, though there had been that too, but really just to cuddle and enjoy each other’s company. And so in the time when your head is on his chest and his fingers are drawing shapes in the small of your back, you figure now is as good a time as any.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” you mumble interrupting whatever movie you were watching at the time.

He hummed in agreement. “‘Course.”

“Do you wanna go to the VMAs together?”

“Who, me?”

He leaned up in bed enough to nearly dislodge you from his chest while he went to reach for the remote to pause your movie. Rude.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Just figured, we’d both be going anyway. Might as well save the planet a little gas.”

He peered down at you with gentle eyes that had you feeling much softer than you should in that moment. Damn him.

“Yea, you just asked me to be your date to a televised award show. Where everyone would see, but no big deal.”

“Well...it’s not like people don’t know right?” You mumbled not making eye contact.

Shawn reached for your chin, tugging your face close so that your eye met again.

“Who, sweetheart? Tiana knows. Brian knows. But we spend most of our time in your apartment or mine. When we do go out, we’re not exactly going where the industry folks go now are we? I don’t mind. There’s nothing I’d love more than to be with you in the public eye, but I--I gotta admit this is a little surprising coming from you.”

“How come?” You asked stubbornly.

“Well...maybe because you seem to think about my dad more than I do?” He admitted softly. “And maybe because--and I’m just guessing here--I think you might be a bit afraid to be seen with me in public.”

That locks you up.

Shawn had a way of knowing you that didn’t quite seem fair. All of your life you had very specific, intentional relationships with people. They knew what you wanted them to know. Nothing more, nothing less. It had never worked that way with him. He seemed to find meaning in every silence that you shared. And that was good! It was good that he could see you and that he cared enough to want to see you. But, it was also incredibly scary. Because it meant you no longer got to hide.

“I...I--I’m not afraid to be seen with you in public, Shawn.”

He smiled sheepishly and tapped your cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay. I--I get it. I understand. You’re important, y/n. Your career is everything to you. I know what it would like to be paired with me.”

It was like reverse psychology or something. Every time he voiced the very things that you had thought before, they sounded ridiculous. What kind of a grown woman wouldn’t be caught in public with her significant other. What kind of bullshit was that? Goddammit.

“This is stupid! We can go to the other fucking awards in the same car, Shawn. It’s no big deal. Why are you making it something bigger than it is?”

Shawn could tell that you were getting annoyed and fidgety so he reached for your hands and placed them against his chest. It seemed to calm you when you could feel his heartbeat beneath your palms. So sappy.

“I’m not. If you want me to be your date, I’m happy to. You just tell me what you need and I’ll do it. Okay?”

He’s so soft and so kind that the anger just leaves you immediately. It’s incredible. And annoying.

You poke at his cheek. “You annoy me when you’re kind.”

“I annoy you?” He chuckled. “How come?”

“Cause I can’t be angry at you with your dumb doe eyes and this chin and your big ass head. I’m gonna be stressed out of my ass that night. And I--I want to be able to find you when I need you. And I’m gonna need you.” You admitted.

His eyes somehow get even softer. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you even closer than before.

“Then I’ll be there.” He said. “It’s that simple.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

She’s beautiful even when she’s scary. Sometimes because she’s scary. That night is the night where the two come together at their strongest points. They’ve got her in a dress that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a black, skin-tight, velvet number and her braids are in again. Jesus. But she’s also been screaming into her phone for the past twenty minutes, and she’s definitely threatened to take some really important body parts at least three times now. He grips his dick in his slacks a little bit just in sympathy alone.

It was just him and Tiana waiting with her, so when she got off the phone and started rubbing at her temples, someone had to make a move. At this point it was second nature to him. To support her. To be there for her. To ease her mind a little bit. So, when he marches over and cups her face in his hands, holds her close, and kisses her, it doesn’t even register that it’s the quietest the room has been all day. He just waits to feel her shoulders unlock, and waits for that sigh that lets her mouth open enough for his tongue to slip inside. It’s when her body is soft and pliant in his hands, that he knows she’ll be okay. And that’s all that matters to him.

“Okay?” He whispered after pulling away, his thumb still easing at the tension in her neck.

She nodded softly. “O--Okay.”

“Good. We ready to go?” He smiled.

There was a moment when Tiana and y/n make eye contact, and it must be a sort of mind reading of best friends, because he certainly had no idea what either of them was talking about. Or not talking about for that matter. But that didn’t stop Tiana from laughing and it didn’t stop y/n from throwing her hands up and swatting at her best friend.

“Leave me alone, Ti!” She muttered marching for the door.

What a night it was sure to be.

They drove to the awards together. Tiana was in the front seat managing all of the artists that were meant to be on the carpet. Y/n was in the back beside him making sure that every performance was set and ready to go. And unfortunately there he was, also on the phone, making sure that his father’s latest PR stunt went off without a hitch. It meant there was no time to kiss her, or whisper in her ear how pretty she looked in that dress, or all the things he planned to do when he got her out of it later. What he did get? Was to hold her hand. And honestly having her squeeze around his fingers every time she was anxious or stressed or pissed? Was the best part of the ride.

The car pulled to a final stop in front of the venue, and Tiana was already out of the car. Y/n finally stopped to put her phone away and turned to him. For a moment, it was just the two of them. Nothing else. No one else.

“So uh...I’ll go with Normani and my people and you’ll go with your people but we’ll sit together. Both Normani and Sarah will be in the front row anyway so it shouldn’t be weird that we’re near each other. We--We obviously can’t…”

He reached for her palm, threading their fingers together so that she might relax for just a moment.

“Hey. You don’t need to explain to me okay? I understand. I’ll be on my best behavior. I know I might not look like it, but I can be professional.” He smiled playfully. “What I do backstage might just be a different story.”

It gets her to smile and to breathe, and thus it’s worth it immediately. She leans her forehead against his and sighs.

“I just wanna be with you. I don’t wanna do anything else.” She mumbled.

“Same.”

“I hate that it matters. That us being together would upset people.”

“I know, honey.” He sighed and tucked a loose braid behind her ear. “If is makes you feel any better, I think it would give my dad a heart attack. It might actually put him in the grave.”

“Hmmm...good to know. Guess we should get going then huh?”

“Hey, hey. Not quite. Gotta get my goodbye kiss first, right?”

The taste of her smile is enough to get him through the red carpet.

Sarah Leone and Ty Summers have a staged run in on the red carpet. Someone had decided that them arriving separately would only heighten excitement. So, here he was following a teenager around while she got a crack at the dream he’d never know. It was really like his own personal hell on earth.

They meet up and don’t kiss. But they do hug and they do whisper in each other’s ear. It’s word for word from the write up sitting in a binder on his office desk. They’re the most talked about couple there that night, and they’re not even confirmed yet. Jesus.

He’s on the cusp of gagging when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

y/n: try to smile tonight.I know it hurts more than you let on, but you’ll get through it. And I’ll be there too.

He paused in the middle of the carpet, no longer following the herd of people trying to keep his father’s new artist relevant. He read it again. And then again. And then one more time. He could imagine that she was somewhere running around like a chicken with its head cut off. He knew that there had to be a million things on her mind that night, and surely he shouldn’t be at the top of the list. That was natural and understandable. Yet, somehow she found a way to make him feel like he mattered. That the bullshit in front of him was indeed that, even if the public was eating it up, even if it was making everyone around him more money by the second. It did hurt. But he never had to say it, or even allude to it, because she already knew. Of course she already knew. And he loved that about her. He loved her...

Shawn: Thank you. That means more than you could know.

Shawn: I need to see you. When can I see you?

Y/n: I’m backstage already. Not until showtime. Are you okay?

Shawn: Yes. Just miss you. I’ll see you soon.

He was a bit of an impulsive person. It usually worked out for him in the end. When he saw something that he wanted, he never stopped to let himself get in his own head. Instead, he went after it, whatever it was. It was usually the best for song writing too. When he felt something, he felt it so much. And with her? Everything felt like the most important thing. Especially the realization that he was in love with her. Especially that. So once he knew, he wanted her to know; it only seemed right.

And so he floated through the rest of the carpet. Nothing mattered when she was on his mind. He might as well have been back at her apartment playing guitar while she cooked some incredible thing that he couldn’t even dream of creating. It was his happy place and there he stayed until he got to see her again.

***

*Y/n’s point of view*

“You’re fucking stunning. You are incredible. You are an icon. You are Black and beautiful and bold. Let them know okay? And I’ll be out there repping regardless!”

Normani nodded, eyes wet but not willing to let any tears fall that might fuck up her makeup. This was her moment more than it was yours. You’d done all the work in the world to let this moment matter for her. And now she just had to go out there and do it. There was nothing else you could do. You hugged her and let Tiana lead you from the back and towards the crowd. The lights are hot and there’s cameras everywhere and everyone looks like they’re uncomfortable in whatever outfits they’re in. You stop to kiss Lady Gaga on the cheek, shake hands with one of the Migos, and give little Nas X a kiss cause that was your baby.

At the row where your seat was located, he was sitting there. His suit that night was a deep green and it looked so good on him that you couldn't wait to get him out of it. His thighs were spread wide with no one sitting around him and he was jittering his knees up and down. He went to run his fingers through his hair causing him to finally look up and see you, and he was out of his seat before you could even blink.

“Hi.” He murmured reaching for you without thought.

His eyes widened and he went to pull away as he realized how public it was, but you couldn’t handle another second of being away from him, so you reached to pull him closer in the hopes that a huge might not be too much.

“Hi.” You leaned up on your heels to whisper in his ear. “Missed you.”

“Yea. Same. Look I uh--I need to tell you something.”

“Are y’all gone stand here all night blocking the way, or can I sit down sometime soon?” Tiana interrupted.

You rolled your eyes at her but moved to let her slip into her seat. Shawn and you quickly took your seats, his arm coming to rest naturally behind your chair as he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“I’ve got something I need to say.”

You turned to him.

“Well, okay. What is it? Is everything alright?”

“Yea. Yea, everything’s fine I just… I think that I--”

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, COMMERCIAL BREAK IS OVER IN TEN PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY BACK TO YOUR SEATS!”  

“Oh shit, babe Normani is up next!” You squealed turning to face the stage again.

“Y/n I have to--”

“After the performance okay? I promise!”

She fucking KILLS. She locks in and she leaves it all out on the floor. Her early 2000 era pop/r&b vibe connects with the crowd immediately. And it’s your job to make sure as much. You notice the way they engage. The clapping. The dancing. The way the cameras follow her, but also the way that they follow the crowd. It’s everything you had expected. It’s flawless.

And at the end of the performance the banner goes up on the screen announcing her solo album dropping that night. It’s the only album drop of the evening, you’d made sure of that as well. It’s perfect. Tiana is already beside you watching engagement. Normani shoots to the top of the twitter trend list. Before the camera even moves to capture the next award, Normani is the most talked about thing of the VMAs. It was all worth it. Just like that. The win for best R&B is simply the icing on top.

You hug Tiana and let her wipe at the tears that had begun to rim at your eyes, so that it didn’t fuck up your makeup. Each of you know that it means something different. She wasn’t just performing for herself that night. She was performing for the world to “get it” in a way that Black women often have to fight for. Normani and her music and her hue and her femininity and her sexuality. All of it would always require a justification that her counterparts, even her former bandmates, would never be asked to give. This was the reason you had fought to sign her after all. Who better to navigate the racist bullshit of the world and the industry, then another black woman? Only you could have given her that.

When you turn back to Shawn his arms are already open for you to step into. He wraps himself around you and you, him. Maybe another tear finds its way into the fabric of his suit, but who’s to say?

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered in your ear squeezing at your hips.

“It was her. Did you see her?! That was all her.”

He shook his head. “It was you too. You’re just amazing.”

“Thank you. Shit. Wow. Oh my god, what was it you were gonna say to me earlier?”

“It can wait. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

He reached and gripped your chin softly before pressing a kiss to your cheek. It was so soft you nearly died.

“Positive. Go celebrate.”

***

The afterparty was in full swing when he tugged you towards the dance floor. Daniel Cesar was performing and Shawn’s hands were on your hips. You were high on life and on the feeling of his touch and Blackness. Always Blackness. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head on his chest, cheek soaking up the heat of his body. It was less public then the award show and more intimate, so you didn’t mind when his fingers dipped down to your ass a little bit, don’t mind when his nose skims your neck and his fingers dig life into you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked twirling you gently.

“I’m feeling happy. Like the happiest I’ve ever felt I think? Is that weird?”

He smiled and ran his hands soothingly up and down your back.

“I don’t think so. I love that you’re happy. I’m happy too.”

“You are?” You asked leaning off of his chest to peer up at him. “That whole pr thing didn’t get you down?”

“It was starting to and then this really beautiful woman texted me that I should calm the hell down. And so I did.” He grinned.

“Beautiful? I heard stunning was more like it.” You laughed

“You’re right. Stunning is much more accurate.”

His eyes followed you intensely with every move that you made. Intense wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was fondness. Like looking at you was enough to make him happy. How wild was that?

“I wanna tell you something.” He murmured. “I’ve been meaning to tell you all night actually.”

“Yea? What’s that?”

He sent your body around for another spin and then pulled you close so that your chests touched.

“I love you.” He whispered in your ear.

Your heels froze pulling your body to a grinding halt. He peered down at you inquisitively again, hands still holding you close.

“Is that okay? Can I...Can I say that? Shit should I not have said that? I shouldn’t have said that.”

He pulled his hands from around you and swept nervously through his curls. His eyes were still kind even when they were frantic. For a second you couldn’t believe that this was the same person you’d met that night all those months ago. You couldn’t believe he, of all people, was standing here telling you that he loves you. But he was. And he did. And somehow, somehow you did too.

“Y/n, I--I’m so sorry. I’ve just never done this before and I thought that--that I should tell you how I feel about you. That you deserve to know that you know? You don’t have to say it back at all I just...I wanted you to know. Cause I felt it, and that means something ya know?” He rambled.

“I love you too.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“Well don’t sound so fucking shocked about it. What’s not to love?”

He burst out into a grin and reached for you again, lifting your toes just barely off of the ground as he swept you around the room again. His lips found yours and he smiled even there. How dare he be so sweet.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day you know that?” He sighed.

You kissed gently at his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“That makes me so happy.I love you.”

“I love you!”

You dance for the rest of the night and you kiss and you make each other laugh and you get way too drunk at the open bar. But it’s good. You’re not thinking about the next thing on your plate. He’s not thinking about his job, or his dad. It’s just the two of you against the world. And you were really starting to like those odds.

***

“What did they fucking super glue you into this thing?!”

After three minutes of hot and heavy kissing, you’d finally begun to notice that Shawn was not making as quick work of your dress as he usually did. He flipped you over onto his bed and begun to work on your zipper in hopes of sometime that night actually having sex with you.

“I believe in you, sweetheart. You can get it.” You encouraged.

It was in the middle of Shawn fingers trying to undo said dress that you spotted the book on his bedside table. You didn’t think anything of it at first, just let your eyes skim the spine of the book in interest. When it clicked, it clicked, and your heart sort of stopped just as he accidently ripped your givenchy dress.

“Holy shit I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new dress. Like tomorrow. First thing, I promise!”

Your mind; however, was focused on other things.

“Are you...Are you reading White Fragility?” You mumbled.

“Yea. I did some digging on white people for black live matters? They have like a book club or something, and this one was at the top of the list along with The New Jim Crow by uh Michelle Alexander I think her name was?”

You rolled over onto your back to see your curly hair doe-eyed boyfriend who had somehow found the time to start reading about white supremacy behind your back.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, you thought you would just mention white people for black lives matter, and we would, what? Continue with the night? I would let you cum in me or something?”

Shawn shrugged. “Well...I don’t necessarily need to cum inside you, though it’s kind of my favorite way to end the night. But...Yes? No? I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for.”

“You’re learning.” You mumbled in confusion. “W--Why?”

He leaned up so that his body was no longer poised over yours, hands dipping awkwardly into his pockets.

“Because it matters to you. So, it matters to me. Also I’m learning that it’s supposed to matter to everyone. White people just suck”

You followed him unconsciously body leaning up off the bed to reach for him. Your hands skim his thighs and settle around his waist. You’re at a loss for words, and that is completely and utterly new. The softness in his eyes tells you that he’s nervous, that he’s so much more concerned with  making you happy than you even thought imaginable.

He cups your cheek gently peering down at you from above.

“Is that okay? Did I--did I fuck it up somehow?” He whispered.

You smiled. You beamed. You practically cried.

“No. Not at all. You did good.” You assured him.

He reached down gently to taste the smile on your lips. Your broken zipper left the thin straps of your dress falling off your shoulders as he led you gently back against the sheets. It’s a lot long of just kissing. Of just touching. Of just loving. It’s perhaps the first time in your life where you don’t feel the need to give so much, because he’s right there to take care of you already. You’re not alone anymore. He wouldn’t dream of having you be alone.

“Wanna take care of you.” He hummed against your throat, lips gentle and soft.

You sighed softly, thighs bracketing his hips as he pushed down searchingly against your heat.

“Please.” You begged. “Take care of me.”

“Always.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

She invited him to the studio. Something about working late, and if he wanted to “maybe spend some time together” he was welcome to come. But even he wasn’t that naive. She’s inviting him to the studio where Khalid is recording, and it’s definitely going to blow his mind. But, he packs up from work and nearly bolts his way to her. It’s a super famous studio in the heart of the city. Everyone from Gaga to Elton John to Prince had recorded there at some point. It’s a beautiful place of beautiful, rich history. He’d been there once before with his dad, but never had he gotten the chance to sit on an actual session before. When she meets him outside so that security doesn’t turn him away, he’s perhaps a little too excited if her eyes are anything to go off.

“Hi!” He exclaimed, wrapping her up in his arms immediately.

She chuckled. “Someone is happy to see me. Or is the studio you’re happy to see?”

He rolled his eyes and tugged playfully at one of her curls which were down for once in a blue moon.

“It’s you. Always you...I’m just happy to see you in the studio.” He grinned.

“Yea, yea, yea. Just be cool white boy, we do things a little differently then Mendes industries.”

She surely wasn’t fucking joking.

The room is completely dark except for blue lights and candles. It’s not full to the brim of people, like some other sessions he’d sat it on in the past. In fact it seems like it’s just the producer and Khalid. When she pulls him into the room there’s a thin veil of weed smoke that gets thicker where Khalid and the producer were passing a blunt back and forth. When y/n walks into the room the affection and the respect is clear. He wraps his arms around her waist from where he’s sitting in the chair and smiles up at her and she pats lovingly at his hair. They look more like siblings then they do client and manager. It’s unlike anything he’d ever seen at his dad’s company.

“Stop smoking and come say hi to Shawn, big head.” She smirked hugging him back.

Needless to say he felt a bit out of his element, until he met him of course.

Khalid was kind of like a teddy bear. A big, soft, shy teddy bear. His voice was just as soothing when he spoke as when he sang and he didn’t seem to care about how you viewed him at all. He’d never met anyone that was just so effortlessly cool, immediately.

“You must be something special. She never brings nobody to the studio.” Khalid smirked at y/n who immediately flicked him upside the head.

“And I never will again if you don’t behave. I thought you wanted to get the track finished today? The only thing finished around here is that blunt and my patience. Come on.”

He laughed and made a quick bowing motion with his hands towards her before making his way back into the booth. She lead him to the couch and the producer set him up to record the next verse. One second he’s just sitting there holding his girlfriend’s hand watching her do her job, and the next he’s immediately transfixed. Khalid sang with his eyes closed and you could just feel the way that he felt the music. Every note was this beautiful little soundwave and it drove him absolutely crazy to watch the perfection happen.

The verse ends and his heart just sort of deflates the second no more singing is happening. His fingers immediately began to tingle and his feet wouldn’t sit still. He was just aching to create.

“You like?” She hummed running her fingers through the curls at the back of his head.

He just sort of beamed at her softly and cuddled himself deeper against her side.

“So much. This is my favorite part of it all, ya know?” He sighed. “The making something out of nothing. I love it.”

“Yea? You wanna get in the booth?”

His eyebrows shot up on his forehead as he froze in front of her.

“What? Like in front of Khalid? No! Are you kidding?”

She snickered. “Shawn look at you blushing like a school girl!”

“It’s not funny, y/n. Stop.” He hissed.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” She giggled. “This is comical.”

“Stop it.” He whined. “I’m delicate.”

“You sure are, my love.”

Khalid comes back out again to listen to the playback. There’s a note in the second half of the verse that doesn’t fit right. The producer recommends that Khalid does some falsetto work. He squirms in his seat at the suggestion.  It’s not that it’s the worst idea in the world. It’s just that it’s the worst idea in the world. His girlfriend watches him for a few more seconds before pressing a kiss to his cheek and standing up.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You try not to explode there, big guy.” She giggled.

*15 minutes later*

*y/n’s point of view*

You open the door and it is almost comical how much weed smoke pours out in front of you. It only takes one look toward the mixing console to see that your plan had worked ridiculously well. Your boyfriend was leaning with his long ass legs crossed over one another with a blunt in one hand and the other making wild gestures in the air as he spoke to Khalid and the producer, Mike, like some hippie professor in the classroom.

“I’m serious. The whole thing is a build right? You’ve got these beautiful ebbs and flows that are sitting in the soundwaves. If you look at the actual wave of the vocal and the instrumental you’ll see what I’m talking about.” He pauses to take another hit of the blunt and then points to the screen. “See. Do you see that? If you put a falsetto there? It ruins all of that magic you just spent two minutes creating. If you really want to follow this pattern that you already created, which is already beautiful, sing it down the octave. Jus trust me, bro.”

Bro. Your boyfriend had turned into a pot smoking vocal production expert bro in the time it took you to walk a block around the studio and pretend to pee. Who the fuck would’ve thought.

“Fuck it. Let’s see if the white boy’s right.” Khalid murmured already heading back for the booth.

You paused just inside the door and watched closely just to see what would happen. Before Mike hit playback, Khalid sang randomly a couple of times. He tried it on various notes to get a feel for what it might sound like. He lands on one and pauses to look towards Shawn.

“What about that one?”

Shawn nodded but looked up into the air like he was visualizing the notes or something.

“Try…”

And it happens. He sings is this effortless sort of way, but with the breath support of someone who knew what the hell they were doing. If you would have sat in a meeting, as you had hundreds of times, and he sang even that note, your spine would have straightened. It’s something immediate about him. It’s that thing you look for in every artist, and you’re lucky as hell if you ever find it. No wonder Manny wouldn’t let his work see the light of day. He’d be huge. Bigger than anything Mendes Industries had yet to accomplish. And Manny would have to live the rest of his life knowing that the best thing that ever happened to him, the best thing to ever come from him, had nothing to do with him at all. It was all Shawn.

Khalid stares at him. Mike stares at him. He takes another hit of the blunt and coughs his way through it, like he couldn’t sing his ass off. It’s rude for sure.

“Try now.” Shawn suggested.

Khalid looked around him to finally land his eyes on you. You’d never mentioned Shawn sang, or did anything beyond the scope of his job at his dad’s company. You knew that you didn’t need to. It was effortless for him. The pieces were all there, and they fit together seamlessly. When Shawn turns to look at you his cheeks get red, and he has the audacity to hide the blunt behind his back like you might not be able to see the smoke wafting up from behind him. But the light and the happiness in his eyes isn’t drug related in the slightest. He just loves to create music. And you kind of love to watch him do it.

You finally closed the door and walked delicately up to your boyfriend. You reached your arms around him until your fingers touched the blunt and you happily took it from him to set between your own lips.

“You heard the man.” You breathed on an exhale. “Try it now.”

*later that night*

You push him onto the bed face down in the hopes it’ll keep him quiet long enough for you to change. He was a chatty one when he was high, which knowing him you probably could have guessed. Less philosophical though, and more happy big ass puppy. By the time you got into bed he was already forcing himself into your space, head on your chest and arms around you. He liked to be held and he liked to hold. Physical touch was a big thing for him. So you gave it to him as much as you could.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your shirt. “I didn’t mean to intervene in the session. The producer was just...so wrong.”

You chuckled and squeezed at his shoulders.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you and Khalid hit it off. He’s young and still relatively untainted by the industry. I’d like to keep him that way if I could. It’s good for him to be around people without ulterior motives.”

“Okay.” He whispered. “It was also just so much fun.”

“Yea? You’re a very talented little thing aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about all that. I just know I love it. More than anything. Besides you of course. I love you a whole lot. The things you do to me, woman? Sheesh. It’s too much to handle.”

This made you laugh beyond belief. His eyes were closed and his lips frowned rumpled against your shirt. But he was just as chatty as could be.

“Is that so? And just what do I do to you?”

You expected vulgarity, something about your ass or your tits or the sounds that you made. Honestly that would have been more than fine. You loved the way he seemed to find endless sensuality in everything that you were. But the answer he offers instead is different.

“You just make me feel warm. All the time. When you hold me and when you kiss me and when you take my hand when we’re walking down the street. Everything about you is the sun. I can’t even tell that it’s cold outside cause when I’m with you it might as well be summer. I’ve never felt anything like it before. God, I love you.” He sighed. “Shit. We like just said that shit to each other. I said too much didn’t I? I shouldn’t have said all that. I’m sorry. I’m really baked right now.”

You bit your lip peering down at this man with the ability to make you feel everything, and with the heart and the emotional intelligence to share just how you did the same for him. And it felt really good. It felt like love and warmth and home. All wrapped up in a person. It was perfect.

“Don’t apologize. That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I love you. Go to sleep.” You whispered.

“Okay.”

He nuzzled deeper into your tummy and definitely pressed a kissed against your belly button the adorable bastard.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I love you too. You’re my sun, babe.”

You hold him extra tight that night.

****

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @justbeingoceana @loveylangdon @iloveshawnieboi @september-lace @valedictorian65 @dimestorebieber22 @MixerMani @lifeoftheparty74 @sinplisticshawn @kamahriii @disaster-rose @justbeingoceana

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[norbah]

Tezcatlipoca

-Caster (5*)

Some Servants enjoy the height of their power with the sun at its zenith, but Tezcatlipoca works best in the shadows. He is one of the four creator gods in the Aztec pantheon, and ruler of the north. A deity with an impressive portfolio, he has a variety of skills to ensure his Master’s victory over the other Grail War participants. The god of night, sorcery, obsidian, treachery, the north, divination, jaguars, and beauty, he is certainly a capable and intelligent ally to have. But if there has ever existed a Servant you must never trust, it is Tezcatlipoca.

His many abilities make him a terror outside combat, and he favors underhanded tactics worthy of an Assassin. If it is up to him, he will never enter open combat. Poison, daggers in the night, seduction, kidnapping, and misdirection are all tools in his arsenal, which he is far from afraid of using. Not only can he turn invisible, he is an accomplished shapeshifter, good enough to even fool the other gods, and his list of misdemeanors is extensive. Perhaps most famously, he drugged Quetzalcoatl and tricked them into sleeping with their own sister, but that was far from the most terrible thing he’s managed. Tezcatlipoca is indirectly responsible for each of the last 4 worlds’ ends. He relishes throwing wrenches into others’ plans and happiness, and poisonous, deceitful words come as naturally to him as breathing does to mortals. Whether it be charming a beautiful woman to his side or convincing somebody an utter falsehood is true about themselves, his silver tongue is something to be reckoned with.

To trust Tezcatlipoca is to lose the War. At some point, perhaps several, he will attempt to betray his Master. Not out of any real malice, but simply because that’s who he is. The last time he cooperated successfully with somebody, the world was still being shaped. “No hard feelings” may as well be this being’s catchphrase. However, paradoxically, he may also demonstrate an extreme protectiveness over his Master. All mages and sorcerers are under his protection, after all, and this one in particular moreso. If anybody will screw them over, it will be him. Nobody else.

This is not to say he’s unapproachable. Quite the contrary; Tezcatlipoca is charming by nature, and is relatively easy to get along with, so long as a modicum of respect is shown. But his Master would be wise to remember that tolerance is not the same thing as friendship, and most assuredly not the same thing as loyalty, and Tezcatlipoca WILL betray even his most favorite human on a whim. It’s also recommended to avoid insults, even playful ones. Under his easy smile, he has quite the temper, and will not forget a slight easily, if at all.

Although he was a skilled diviner, the nature of the War is chaotic enough that his Clairvoyance is impeded. Although he finds this disappointing, the chaos and unpredictability of it all are also exciting for him, and he intends to make the most of this experience.

Much like Huitzilopochtli, he demands sacrifice from his Master in order to restore his mana. But unlike the former, he does not require someone’s death. He is content enough to drink some of his Master’s blood every day, but in a dark twist, he wants his Master to let the blood out themselves so he can drink it. In his own words, “I want not just your blood. I want you to offer up your pain to me as well.”

In the context of the Grand Order, he is still an untrustworthy figure, but being surrounded by other schemers such as Moriarty, he can find ways to pass the time that don’t directly involve screwing over the last Master of Chaldea. Though he does not truly respect them the way Huitzilopochtli does, he finds them intriguing and curious, which is reason enough for him to follow along with their lead. They are, after all, perhaps the single worst mage he has ever come across, and yet have accomplished things that far more experienced magi would have fallen short of.

Tezcatlipoca was the protector god of slaves (known as the “Beloved of Tezcatlipoca”), sorcerers, and social pariahs. In other words, he rooted for the underdog. And in the plan for the Restoration of Humanity, there is no greater underdog than Gudao\Gudako.

This does not mean that he won’t attempt to mess with them, of course, but it does mean that his pranks and plots are considerably less vicious than they’d otherwise have been. Food and drink offered by him are always to be refused all the same. He is banned from entering the kitchen at Quetzalcoatl’s suggestion, but unfortunately the prohibition has only made him more eager to sneak in and perform some mischief.

As he delights in all carnal pleasures, it is also not uncommon to find Tezcatlipoca attempting to seduce the female Servants, and even some of the male ones. Despite his untrustworthy reputation, he has an easy charm about him, unlike the brusque nature of Huitzilopochtli. Marital status means nothing to him. Thankfully, his success has been impeded by the efforts of individuals concerned for the public morals of Chaldea, but he is nothing if not tenacious.

All in all, Tezcatlipoca is untrustworthy, sneaky, and capable of great cruelty for no other reason than simple boredom. However, he is also charming, knows how to have a good time, and gets the job done, no matter what it takes to do it. He is a lot more involved with the general antics of Chaldea than Huitzilopochtli is, but this is not necessarily a good thing.

PASSIVE SKILLS

Presence Concealment C

He is a skilled shapeshifter, and can fool even gods when transformed. The other gods were unaware for a very long time that Tezcatlipoca and the jaguar god Tepeyollotl were one and the same. Among his favored forms are a feeble old man, a jaguar, a turkey, a large spider, or a small black dog. While in animal form, he is not detectable by other Servants unless they are specifically looking for something non-humanoid. If so, he is as visible as any other Servant in plain sight would be.

Territory Creation B-/EX

Unlike other Casters, he can’t create a Bounded Field easily. He must have a temple, or even a shrine, in order to properly create one. This is a time-consuming and demanding task, but if managed, Tezcatlipoca’s Field becomes stronger than most. Within this area, his Clairvoyance is fully powered, and nothing can escape his sight. What’s more, any intruders are much more vulnerable to suggestion, or even subjugation of their will. He is, after all, Titlacauan, “He Whose Slaves We All Are”. The larger the shrine, the more pronounced the effects. As civilians wander into the area, he may draw them in as worshipers, as laborers at the temple... or as sacrifices.

Clairvoyance A- (Unusable in FGO except as a plot point, due to the impracticality of building a temple to him before every battle)

By looking into the hearts of humanity, Tezcatlipoca can see their darkest desires, as well as which of those desires they’re most likely to act on. This gives him a rather decent chance to predict how somebody will act in a given situation.

ACTIVE SKILLS Self-Modification B

Tezcatlipoca can take on many strange and terrible forms, and delights in using each of them to perform his mischief.

——— Increase C. star gather rate

The First Sun

Tezcatlipoca volunteered to be the first world’s Sun. But for some reason, perhaps his status as a night god, or the recent loss of his leg, he could only become half a sun. After an argument with Quetzalcoatl turned ugly, the latter knocked Tezcatlipoca out of the sky with a huge club. In his rage, Tezcatlipoca unleashed a rain of jaguars which devoured every living thing on Earth. This is considered by some to be the beginning of their rivalry, though some records indicate their feud had been going on long before this event.

——— Decrease NP Gauge (Demerit) (10%)

——— Greatly increase own Atk (3 turns)

——— Increase Critical strength

Necoc Yaotl

“The Enemy to Both Sides” is an apt descriptor for this tricky god. To fight alongside him is to play with fire, and even if he is on your side, you can never fully drop your guard. He is a true friend to nobody, and is simply looking for an excuse to either reward or punish others, as the fancy takes him. It is simply who he is.

——— 50% chance to greatly increase allies’ Def and Atk (not own) (3 turns)

——— If effect is not activated, lower allies’ Def (not own) (3 turns)

——— (increasing buff chance highly recommended) NOBLE PHANTASM

Name: The Smoking Mirror

Rank: A

Class: Quick

Type: Anti-Personnel

“Heh... Heh heh. Run. Hide, if you wish. The Smoking Mirror reveals you. The Night Wind will carry your screams. Do me a favor and cry out my name... Yohualli Ehecatl. Tepeyollotl. Ome Acatl. ... Tezcatlipoca. Ah... I FOUND YOU.”

Among his many titles, none is more well-known than this one. The obsidian mirror hanging from his chest allowed him to look into both this world and the spiritual one. No enemy was beyond Tezcatlipoca’s reach. Of all the gods, he relished retaliation the most. When at last he struck, he left no room open for a counterattack. Now, as a Servant, he can follow and assault his foe even if they take spirit form. This is the combination of Clairvoyance and his sadistic desire to bestow suffering upon another. This is the true essence of Tezcatlipoca.

——— Apply Evade (1 turn)

��—— Apply Sure Hit (1 turn)

——— Remove Guts buff from 1 enemy, if applicable

——— Deal very heavy damage to 1 enemy

——— Deal special damage to Earth and Star Servants, or ghost type enemies.(effect increases with Overcharge) Name: Hurakan (unusable in FGO)

Rank: EX

Class: N/A

Type: Anti-Fortress/Anti-World

The Aztec gods were as much a natural phenomenon as they were sentient deities. The Nahua people’s greatest fear regarding Tezcatlipoca was their belief that he could destroy and pull down the sky, killing all living things in the process. It would not be the first time that he wiped the Earth of life, having personally done so twice before. Thankfully, as a Servant, his power is greatly reduced, and such a feat is beyond him. That does not mean he is defenseless, and is still capable of leveling a small city as a last resort, albeit at a great mana cost. The name Hurakan, one of his Mayan identities, is the root for the word “hurricane”. Some believe Tezcatlipoca may be the mightiest deity in Mesoamerica.

Additional quotes for other Servants Quetzalcoatl: “Oooh, what have we here... Hiya, “KuKu”! How’re you doing? Aww, no smile for old Tezca? Don’t tell me Quetzalpetatl is here too! Eh heh heh!”

Tezcatlipoca’s most assholeish of traits can best be seen when he interacts with Quetz. He can’t seem to resist rubbing the time he humiliated her in her face, and goads her every chance he gets. His verbal barbs are much sharper than hers, and so she often resorts to trying to beat him senseless with her macahuitl while he runs away cackling. In other words, they act as dysfunctional siblings.

Jaguar Warrior: “Hey, hey! I remember you! Wow, you’ve really made a name for yourself. ... Eh? Hold a grudge? Why would I? You kicked my ass pretty good that last time. Glad I didn’t make you a Saber, that could have been much worse...”

Surprisingly, he’s not lying. Tezcatlipoca appreciates a good turnaround more than most, and he thinks Taiga pulling one over him was a thing of beauty. He still does his best to play mean jokes on her, but they seem to be in a different spirit than with others. Almost like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails... That said, he has locked her out of her room on several occasions, to, as he said, “See how she likes getting kicked out”. So, perhaps he’s not as over it as he says...

Nero: “Eh heh heh... I know what you are. Don’t give me that look. I can see into the hearts of men as easily as you look through a window. Smile, and laugh, and sing all you want. What you did is written in blood. My favorite type of ink.”

The Smoking Mirror allowed Tezcatlipoca to look inside of people. Hiding your guilt from him is near impossible, and he will never let you forget it. Nero is a particular source of delight for him, as her desperate attempts to hide who she was in life are the exact sort of thing he likes holding over people’s heads. He may never actually act on it, but the possibility exists. And knowing that they know he knows is more than enough for him.

Jack: “... I was not there for you. For this, I am sorry. You are, all of you, my Beloved, yet you were alone. ... Mommy takes care of you, you say? Then I’ll take care of Mommy for you. Does that sound good?”

Orphans, while technically under the wing of another god, are close enough to the spurned that Tezcatlipoca might feel sympathy or even concern for them. Of course, he is far from fit as a guardian, but the fact that Gudao/Gudako takes care of any and all who seek it, Tezca looks on a little more favorably in their direction. Jack is one of the few people he abstains from messing with.

Arachne: “Hm? Why the glare, little miss? Is there something in my teeth? Ah, it’s that pesky mortal blood I had earlier, isn’t it? I can never seem to get it out... Eee hee hee, no need to look so scary! It’s just a joke, a joke! ... Well, maybe it’s a joke.”

It’s clear to anybody with eyes in their head that Arachne dislikes gods and divinities in general. Perhaps the clarity of the situation is what makes Tezcatlipoca so determined to provoke her every time he sees her. When asked about the wisdom of antagonizing a specialized anti-Divine Servant so persistently, he simply said he finds Arachne to be fun.

[themildestofwriters-ocs]

Odd number NSFW questions for Josie?

NSFW WARNING for the below

1. What ways would you label yourself, if any? Are any of those labels ones you’ve struggled with finding or more private than others? If you don’t use specific labels, why?

If we’re talking general labels (sexuality, gender, etc.) Josephine identifies personally as a lesbian, and she’s open about it to everyone in her life. When she’s in a new space, she’s more conservative with that information but once she knows that the place is LGBTQA+ friendly (or at least non-hostile), she’s more free with that information.

If we're talking for labels regarding her sex life, the most she has is “top” and  “domme,” though even then she finds it weird to call herself a “domme” aloud in certain situations. These labels, personally, are kinda private in that she doesn’t talk about it with family and she only jokes about it with certain friends because she doesn’t feel comfortable talking about her sex life with some of them.

3, Do any of your senses tend to stimulate/arouse you more easily than others? Are there any specific sensations/stimuli that you’re very sensitive to, and does your partner know/utilize them?

Tactile! Josephine’s very tactile. It’s part of the reason she and Babette can be found constantly hugging, snuggling, and cuddling! Her tactile nature also relates to sex and certain touches and physical sensations do make her very horny. Examples include light scratches, nibbling, faint kissing, massaging etc. 

And yes, Babette knows and utilizes it a lot, even for non-sexual encounters.

5. What’s something your partner does subconsciously during foreplay/sex that you really enjoy “unlocking”?

Unfortunately, I’m not really sure how to answer this. One idea could potentially be Babette’s “purring,” but I’m not sure if it fits. The one answer I couldn’t answer.

7, What’s your favourite feature of your partner's body? Do you show it any special attention during foreplay/sex? What about your partner’s favourite features of yours? How do you know?

This is an interesting question because there’s a lot about Babette that Josephine loves. I think I’ll split this question into “muggle” and “supernatural” because it’s a bit unfair to either part 

On the muggle end, Josephine’s a thigh girl and Babette’s thighs are no exception. Whether it’s kissing, nibbling, massaging, running her nails across them, she’ll pay special attention to them. And, for Babette, it’s heaven.

For the supernatural aspects of Babette’s body, Josephine particularly likes the wings, not only for their texture and aesthetic, but also because they’re toned as fuck. The tentacles are a close second, but Josephine loves Babette’s wings and will pay particular attention to them, whether it’s grooming or if it’s teasing the wing base (which is sensitive to the touch).

On Babette’s end regarding what she likes... well, I don’t think you’d be able to get an answer out of her for a variety of reasons but Josephine knows it’s either her boobs or butt.

9, Is there something you’ve only ever done with your partner? Why them? Do they know?

Josephine has only ever bottomed with Babette, though she has tried it with other people it has never worked out. With Babette, though, it does because of Babette’s disposition and because of the reason why Babette wants to top. She’s also only ever done anything remotely public with Babette as well, partly because she knows Babette can make the whole thing safer yet still exciting, but mainly because she trusts Babette.

11, How does a typical/recent time with your partner compare to the first time with them? What’s the most important/notable thing about your time together that you’ve learned since then?

Well, for a start, there was less crying involved. Josephine’s first time with Babette was an... overwhelming experience (to say the least) for the latter, but after that, as Babette got used it it all, there weren’t any tears involved.

They’ve also gotten a bit more kinkier. Josephine’s first time with Babette was quite tame and very soft and emotion driven -- and while some of their sex has continued to be tame, soft, and emotion driven, they’ve also gotten into some of the kinkier stuff, along with expanding their dating pool.

As for what she’s learned... sex is more than just an orgasm. It’s not that she believed it was only about an orgasm, but it’s something that she’s more conscious about..

13, What’s your favourite place that you’ve had sex? What about places you’d like to but haven’t yet?

In house: I think Josephine would say... at the desk? It’s a versatile place where it’s Babette tied up under or bent over or laying on top.

In (semi)public: The bathroom of a night club. It’s a nice mix of public and private with a seedy atmosphere that fits the deed. Of course, there is a caveat that the place must be relatively clean (though Babette’s magic can help in that situation).

Of the places Josephine would like to try is under the table at a diner, very secretive like. But honestly the idea terrifies her a bit more than it excites her. So, it’s unlikely to happen any time soon, but perhaps in the future.

15, Your partner’s not around but you’re horny, what do you do about it?

Usually masturbation, tbh.

17, Are there any embarrassing stories or compromising situations you’ve been caught in? Who handled it better? You or your partner?

Of course! There’ve been times when parents have arrived home early or friends have decided upon a surprise visit. Fortunately, they’ve had luck when it comes to semi-public play but that’s because they’re far more aware of their surroundings when do that and Babette’s magic makes it a lot safer for everyone involved.

Josephine herself always handled the situation with more composure because Babette just freezes like a deer in the headlights or makes the situation a bit worse by freaking out in a fit of embarrassment.

19, How do you feel leaving marks on your partner’s body? what about your own? Is it more about “marking/claiming” for others to see or is it more about sensations while the marks are being created?

Josephine adores the idea of marking her partner’s body, specifically Babette. Part of it is her “claiming” her girlfriend. A “this is mine,” type deal. But there’s also a bit of an empowering aspect to it because she’s kinda marking a goddess as “her’s,” and, to her, it’s just aesthetically pleasing. It also makes Babette feel good which is always a plus.

On the receiving end... yeah, she doesn’t mind marking and marking another in turn. Getting marked, to her, is kind of a reminder that someone loves her and her body. It’s validation. But it also feels good, tbh.

21, Conception: how does procreator or the prevention of it factor into your sexual relationship? Are you a parent or do you want to be? If you and your partner can’t conceive, would you explore other avenues? If so, which ones?

This is a complicated (yet also simple) question, to be honest. She doesn’t think about conception and contraception that much, to be honest. However, she does have birth control in the form of a hormonal IUD, specifically for her period. Though, it did become useful a few times when sleeping with a girl who did have the ability to get her pregnant.

As for kids... it was always something she was on the fence about. Her main thoughts were always of adoption (she did not want to get pregnant), but with Babette things were a bit different. Then Babette got pregnant and it was a long couple of months as the two discussed what to do about it and it was eventually decided that it was time. They had the resources for it, they had the maturity for it, and she was actually getting a bit excited about it.

23, What’s a non-sexual act of intimacy that you and your partner engage in?

A lot. Josephine and Babette are both very tactile and they can often be seen hugging, snuggling, kissing, and all that jazz. But outside of the usual suspects, they brush and style one another’s hair, dress each other, shower together, and yeah, you get the picture.

25, What do you typically do after the act (part, cuddle, sleep, talk, clean up, etc.)?

Aftercare is an important aspect but ultimately it depends on a lot of factors. If they’re utterly exhausted, they might clean up then cuddle before sleeping. If they’re not exhausted, 

if they leaned heavily into the BDSM aspect of their relationship, aftercare will be a bigger aspect. They’ll clean up first, but during which and afterwards, they’ll talk, reassure their partner that they enjoyed the act, and generally try to make their partner feel better. Some sweets will inevitably make an appearance whether it’s chocolate or lollies, and they’ll end up snuggling on the couch watching TV or something else that is low energy. 

[realtalkingpoints]

Opinion:  How social media and the Obama administration lead to the Impeachment of Donald Trump.

Placed historically, the real explosion in social media use occurred during the Obama administration. Advances in technology were allowing developers to create new platforms and new versions of old platforms faster and faster, each time learning from previous builds.  Big data was coming into it's prime, learning more about user habits than ever before. For the first time in history, millions and millions of people had not just cell phones in their pocket, but smart phones that could access the internet.  And cell phone services, along with internet capabilities were expanding to handle the new demand.  The Obama administration created subsidy programs offering low cost or no cost smart phones and service providers to low income households that qualify.  And apps for phones were developed, to be small versions of popular websites, to run fast, efficient, and anywhere people wanted to pull out their phones and surf them.  The stage was set for a social media explosion.

All different kinds of platforms were introduced.  We know the most popular ones, because they've gone viral and turned into the worlds most powerful platforms, and some are still growing.  Perhaps startups today, will topple the giants in tomorrows media fad. But what we know now, is that people love to chat with each other, and interact with each other in real time, at the speed of the internet, across continents.  People want to share stories and photos, promote businesses, and discuss the news of the day.  The people of the world have never had an exchange of information that was this fast, this easy, and this accessible to literally billions of people.  It was only a matter of time before news and politics moved at the pace of social media, and not the other way around.

Having not done or even read any case studies, and cannot conclusively say, but it seems obvious to me that younger generations were the first to adopt the internet, and social media.  If you have seniors in your life, it's no secret, that they struggle at times with internet technology.  The internet didn't even exist for most of their life, and now suddenly in twenty or thirty years its users have gone from thousands of college geeks and researchers, to billions of excited people trying to find one another.  Our youngest generations don't know a world without the internet, some don't know a world without smartphones, google or twitter.  And when a new platform idea comes along, even one with a seemingly silly name like 'Twitter', there's plenty of young people comfortable enough with internet and smart phone technology, to give it a try.  They don't fear the unknowns, the hacking and 'spying' and data collection that has the older generations so apprehensive. To the younger crowd, the worst that can happen is they don't like it and they delete the app.  But the good ones don't get deleted.  The ones that are effective at capturing people's attention with reality tv type stimulation and peer to peer interaction, grow exponentially into massive social media networks. According to my theory, the first massive waves of users were younger.

These days, younger means more progressive, more liberal in political leaning.  Their comfort level with the internet means they look there first to answer any question they might have, or for things the want to purchase.  They have developed a sense of enlightenment, confident that they can find instantly, the answer to any of life’s mysteries.  While waiting for a latte, while sitting on a bus, beach, or the couch at home, they can satisfying their deepest curiosities, and perhaps too often, accepting the veracity of the information delivered to them without question.  

It doesn't take a genius to see the gold mine of opportunity that influencers of all types saw in social media platforms.  Millions upon millions of young impressionable minds, looking for answers and perspective from their peers.  Advertisers and retailers have embraced the social media craze, inventing creative new strategies to reaching new customers, specially those willing to try something new.  It has literally created new industries because someone tried something, told their friends, and now everyone is selling it.  For example, what is 'goat yoga'?  Don't know, just google it.  Its a thing, it's out there, and it owes it's success to social media.  It's a revolution in the exchange of information like never before in history.  Before long, social media would also be recognized as an essential tool in the fight over politics.

How better to potentially reach millions and millions of people with your political message than to put it on social media, and allow people to share that idea just by clicking a button.  It's too easy.  In the 2008 Presidential election, Barack Obama harnessed the networking power of social media for the first time in a Presidential election.  Using still developing platforms like Twitter and Facebook, he connected with millions of young, progressive thinking voters, most of whom were willing to share his message with their peers. It was a major advantage to his campaign, since supporters of his opponent, John McCain were much older on average, and therefor much less likely to even be on social media.  It gave a free soapbox to Obama that was heard by millions and millions of progressive Americans, and it was virtually all his.  The voices of opposition just weren't there.  The hoards of young impressionable minds thought that everyone agreed with the exciting ideas they were hearing from an enthusiastic Barack Obama.  They had accidentally created their own media bubble of like minded, similarly motived, ideologues, all enjoying a strong confirmation bias.  Slowly, the older more conservative Americans did adopt social media platforms, but they had a lot of catching up to do.  When re-election came around, Obama's opponent in 2012, Mitt Romney made a modest effort to connect with supporters on social media.  Reporting at the time was something like $8 million by Romney vs $45 million spent by the Obama campaign on social media advertising.  It was clear, that the social media advantage was still firmly in the hands of the progressives, and the number of users was growing rapidly.

A skillful politician, Obama quickly learned how to generate large swells of social media activity to support his various agenda items.  I'm sure they had lots of data, certainly from intelligence agencies, about the habits of trending topics on social media.  Being the first American presidential administration to preside over a social media crazed nation, there must have been moments of epiphany with regards to the reaction(s) of social media communities on various policy decisions and press releases.  As Facebook has acknowledged, social media cause the Arab spring.  How much the Obama administration had to do with that is still up for debate.  Ideas were ready to go viral in their respective communities, they just needed to be put out there at the right time, by the right influential people.  

Just as politicians saw the obvious advantages to social media messaging, so did the press and news media.  Journalists would use their own social media accounts to post their news stories and build followings that would supplement their print or tv audiences.  I would assume the same principles apply, that younger more progressive journalists migrated toward the platforms first, giving them a jump on their older more conservative counterparts.  Furthermore, the fact that these platforms are presumed to be populated first with predominantly young progressives, the approval rate and popularity of ideas and stories reported by early journalists on social media is likely skewed towards liberalism.  Many of these young progressive reporters and the networks employing them rode the social media bubble to prominence and challenged their older more conservative colleagues on the national stage in popularity ratings, often successfully.  The result of this effect was a national news media that favored a  more progressive, liberal narrative.  An unfortunate side effect of this, was the reality that popularity of news stories among social media followers, not accuracy or factual reporting, was driving viewership ratings.  As news outlets realized that their new social media followers enjoyed stories about successful progressive policies and praise for the Obama administration, they began to build their staff and organizations around a strategy to deliver just that.  Seemingly out of no where, Obama became the darling of the liberal press and social media.  

The endless stream of positive feedback from the press and social media had it's effect on the Obama administration.  They soon realized that blunders and mistakes could get washed up in a circular round of praise and applause on other topics of the day, while the bad news went completely ignored by a majority of the news media.  Their audience simply didn't want to hear the bad news, so they just didn't report it.  Knowing their misdeeds would go largely forgiven by a lapdog media, the Obama administration began to push the norms of public approval with their progressive policies.  The highly controversial Affordable Care Act, was signed into law despite zero Republican votes for the package.  Republicans were waiving their hands in the isles of congress, shouting as loudly as they could that the math didn't work, and that millions of hard working middle class Americans were going to carry the burden of this bloated package.  But they didn't have the social media push or news media support to get their message out, and those Republicans were labeled as one of many hateful stereotypes by the social media mob. Other Obama moves like the targeting of conservative non-profit groups by the IRS during the 2012 presidential election, and the dreadful Iran deal, which should have received much media scrutiny, all got passing grades from news reporters and their social media echo chambers.

It was probably during Obama's second term, conservatives woke up to realize that social media was where the real conversation is.  Not that they hadn't been participating thus far, but as a whole, the conservatives had been sluggish to migrate toward social media platforms.  But watching liberalism taking over news media, and frightened for the future of their nation, conservatives began to challenge progressive liberals on social media in numbers large enough to cause a stir among their ranks.  And many of them reacted poorly.  Platforms that had long been safe spaces for liberal rants and conservative defamation were suddenly being challenged by patriotic Americans who showed up and said, 'I disagree, here's why, and here's the evidence'.  The young, progressive ideologues who had populated social media en masse had never needed evidence to back up their opinions, nor encountered such opposition to their group think, and began to lash out at their new critics.  Twitter battles flared, and for the first time, young progressive social media users were forced to examine their hardened ideals in the light of contradicting evidence.  But many of them had taken very public, emphatic positions based on liberal policies and news reporting that they had taken as gospel.  For many liberal ideologues, backing down from their stated positions was more injury than they could conceivably sustain, and instead would band together with their news media heroes to defend their proclaimed moral high ground at all costs.

Enter Donald Trump.  No stranger to the media spot light, real estate developer and reality tv star Donald Trump was a natural at using news media to reach the American public.  He saw the trends and recognized how to maximize his influence.  He grew his Twitter audience with constant engagement and used even bad press coverage to get his message out.  Much like Obama in 2008 and 2012, Trump used social media to achieve victory in the 2016 presidential election, this time by appealing to the millions of new, perhaps more conservative minded social media users, who felt alienated and bullied by the entrenched liberal social media mob.  The liberal reaction was swift and often unruly.  Think Women's March, Antifa, and Russia Collusion.  Unable to manifest their desired reality through social media and news stories, the liberals resorted to real world activism in an all out effort to undo an election result that they could not fathom.  They looked to their hero Obama and his collection of bureaucrats installed in the nation's intelligence community to dig for evidence that he had cheated the election.  We know now, that multiple efforts (likely underhanded in nature) to sabotage his election were underway.  The social media mob and their news media cohorts pushed relentlessly to add credibility to claims of Russian Collusion by the Trump campaign and worked 24/7 to drive incriminating headlines into the homes and minds of Americans.  Biased, partisan investigations lead to a special counsel investigation that progressives hoped would finally get the goods and rid them of the surprise President that had popped their media bubble paradise.  But this time, the social media push was from the right, and verifiable evidence of corruption and bias of investigators was plastered on social media for everyone to see.  Conservative news media had finally landed a foothold on social media platforms and began to tell its side of the story to an American public eager to hear some truth.  

Robert Mueller's special counsel investigation ended with no hard evidence that the Trump campaign colluded with Russians to cheat the 2016 election, delivering yet another heavy blow to liberal America, who had spent many years under Obama, assuming that their positions would always be supported by bureaucrats and news reports.  Trump blamed 'the deep state' for the internal attempts to sabotage his presidency.  He asked the DOJ inspector general to investigate the investigations that had targeted individuals from is campaign, and the IG report has confirmed, that many inside the FBI and DOJ were willing to bend or break the rules to obtain surveillance approvals on Trump campaign members.  This provided conservatives with yet another huge victory over their liberal activist counterparts, who still can't believe what is happening.  Many of the young progressives who had driven the political agenda through social media activity had never experienced a news cycle that they couldn't control with their activism.  And many liberal politicians and deep staters who relied on the media mob for support and cover for their potential misdeeds had never considered what they would do if suddenly all the negative news stories actually got printed.  Claims of political favoritism, liberal election rigging, and big money foreign policy peddling are now a daily occurrence, and both the politicians and the media mob are in a panic.

So that brings us to our current situation.  The liberal's last stronghold of power in American government resides in Nancy Pelosi and the House of Representatives.  They have engaged in partisan investigation after investigation, hoping to find something to re-ignite their liberal base, that would warrant the removal of Trump from office.  Impeachment.  Special counsel and IG investigations delivered reports that devastated the credibility of the liberal news media, along with politicians and intel personalities that still claim Trump is the one lying.  Seemingly out of nowhere, a whistleblower report lands on the desk of discredited intel committee chair Adam Schiff, that President Trump has been bribing the Ukrainian government to interfere in the 2020 presidential election by investigating Joe Biden.  Unable to stunt the flow of news and information the way they once had, media mob liberals are as aware as there rest of us, that the origins of said whistleblower complaint are highly questionable, and that there are credible allegations of Biden's mis-dealings in Ukraine.  Indeed, congressional impeachment hearings produced a parade of witness testimonies that stated, one after another, they had heard from others, sometimes others who had heard from others, that the president had done something wrong.  Literally no one was able to testify that they had been instructed to withhold foreign aid to Ukraine in exchange for an investigation of the Bidens.  American news polls show Americans are tiring of the endless investigations of Trump and the push for impeachment. Once again, the liberal news media and the progressive social media ideologues had been unable to sway the news cycle in a decidedly favorable direction.  But they pushed hard.  So hard in fact, that Nancy Pelosi, Adam Schiff and Jerry Nadler are moving forward with the impeachment of the president of the United States of America.  

It appears that they will have the votes in the House to impeach the president.  Democrat house members appear to be unaffected by the lack of hard evidence against Trump, or the mounting pile of evidence that this was a setup to oust Trump and protect a swamp of corruption from being exposed by impending DOJ criminal investigations.  Instead, a Trump re-election is what they fear the most.  Most Democrats in Washington see impeachment as their most destructive tool in the fight against Donald Trump.  Impeachment is their destructive response to a power vacuum they never saw coming.  Having become complacent with years of favorable media coverage, and friendly social media audiences, the liberals and Democrats let their corruptions run unchecked.  They did not predict the storm that is Donald Trump, or the urgency with which the conservatives would take to social media to defend truth in news reporting and accountability in government.  The Democrats have lost control of the narrative and they know it.  They now see no other option but the Hail Mary impeachment of Donald Trump.  Polls suggest it still won't prevent his re-election, but they are out of ideas, and out of time.  Considerations that this impeachment on flimsy evidence will lead to many unfounded future impeachments are not in their calculation.  This is purely desperation.  I for one, hope that the news media, social media and the American public will punish the Democrats for decades over this irresponsible abuse of their constitutional authority.  

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Usurix!

Your gift, featuring soulmates, background rizzy and jimon and a mixture of fluff and (angst - mainly the, uh, supernatural stuff) with a happy ending overall, is hopefully something that you enjoy! There is also some sort of supernatural element going on here - hope the malec brings you joy!

Read on AO3

******

as the storm passes, can you hold this fragile heart of mine?

Chapter 1: bronze

Alec and Magnus are sitting on freshly painted stools in a quaint cafe off 5th Avenue, perched above bumpy grey and blue cobblestones.

They had met five weeks ago, Magnus accompanying Izzy's boyfriend, Raphael, to her most recent dance recital as his plus one.

He had been dressed in a burgundy coat with brass buttons and wool thick enough for the pervading chill of late winter.

He had been enchanting, so Alec had asked him out on a date, and here they are today, on their fifth in the tentatively warm dawn of spring.

The spring sun glints against Magnus' warm brown eyes as he sips his iced coffee.

The moment dips and spins, in the sugary light of the dappled afternoon sun, before Alec next speaks.

"So what do you do for work?" Alec asks as he sips his extra-large hot chocolate in a pink and white ceramic mug. They haven't breached the topic of work yet: there is no time like the present, to sneak past the idleness of talk about blockbuster movies and books of classic literature.

Magnus hums, putting down his coffee. "Oh, this and that. Mainly I work as a consultant."

"Right," Alec says, "and how is that?"

Magnus rips open a brown paper packet and starts stirring in the sugar flakes. "Tiresome, at times - some of my clients can be particularly aggravating - but rewarding, nonetheless. It's mainly confidential, I'm afraid. What about you?"

Alec sighs, blowing on his hot chocolate. "I work for the New York government. Nothing terribly interesting, but it pays the bills and is important work, I suppose, in its own way."

Magnus stops stirring his coffee. "Don't put yourself down, Alexander, it sounds fascinating. What do you do, exactly?"

"Oh," Alec says, and wishes for a second - a mere instant - that he had chosen a more interesting major at college, despite his current comfort in his job, "I'm a crime statistics analyst."

"Should I be worried about the level of crime in New York City?" Magnus asks.

Alec laughs, shaking his head. "It's confidential."

Magnus' beautiful eyes widen. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"I'm kidding," Alec says, "all my work is available to the public somewhere on the government's website. And nothing to note as of recent."

"Ah," Magnus replies, taking out his spoon and picking up the coffee again, tilting it towards Alec almost as if in a toast, "well, that's a relief, then."

"To us, and everyone else," Alec says as the moment heats and thickens, to another wonderful date in an imperfect world.

.

The sky is dark by the time Alec comes back to his apartment, and he can hear laughter even when he unlocks their door, which is a lovely bright magenta.

The perils of living with your siblings and their jarring colour choices.

"I'm coming in," Alec calls out as he hangs his jacket in the hallway, "so you two better not be making out in the living room again, I really don't need to see that."

When Alec turns the corner into their living room, Jace and his soulmate, Simon, are thankfully just sitting on their black leather couch and playing Mariokart.

Jace crashes off Rainbow Road and curses, before looking up at Alec. "Izzy said she'll be home from the gym in half an hour and that she'll bring dinner from that Italian place."

Alec sighs. "Will Simon be staying?"

Simon, who Alec has had the unfortunate luck to now know for two years as Jace's boyfriend and, since last year when Jace's words glowed gold, as Jace's soulmate as well, crosses the finish line with a whoop.

"Yes," Jace answers, scowling as he dives off the road again, "how was your date? Will we be meeting him soon?"

"You've already met Magnus,” Alec says, dropping down on the couch next to Jace. “So shove it.”

Alec thinks that he will let a few more weeks pass before he unleashes his siblings on Magnus, who is sweet and charming and who Alec would rather not be spooked.

Jace quietens, in some sort of weird and uncharacteristic twist of the darkening night, and crosses the finish line five minutes later as the night dissolves into another of simple mundanity.

.

Two weeks later, in the midst of April’s sunny days, Alec scowls as Izzy refuses to move from her place, sprawled on the living room’s couch.

Her head is tilted back, long black hair a tangled mess, glinting in the late afternoon sun.

Izzy’s headphones - white, with silver gems embedded, a gift from their mother two birthdays past - are in her ears, plugged into her phone.

She laughs, bright and clear, and Alec may have thought it was beautiful if he didn’t want her gone.

“Iz.” He taps her on the shoulder. “Get out.”

Her laugh is cut off. “Sorry, Raphael,” she says, before glaring at Alec. “What?”

Alec shrugs. “I would like to watch the TV. Which is in here. You are not doing anything. Therefore, please go.”

Izzy sighs, rolling her eyes. Her eyeshadow is a reddish-bronze today, the same colour Magnus was wearing in his latest Instagram post. He wonders if they've been swapping tips. “I am talking to my boyfriend, Alec.”

Alec can’t help but roll his eyes right back, asserting his dominance as the older brother. “Please, skedaddle.”

He sits down on the couch and turns on the television.

Izzy gets up with a sigh. “Fine, whatever.”

Alec puts on some TV program or other - The Good Place, which Magnus had mentioned, once or twice.

The first episode opens with the declaration of soulmates, which are almost mundane in this world.

Soulmates, he thinks, and he is glad that he is alone, for a sappy smile is surely forming on his face that his siblings would tease him for.

Magnus has good taste, is what he next thinks, and he ignores the stark correlation as the show rolls on.

.

Ten weeks have passed since Alec and Magnus first met, since Alec first saw Magnus in all of his glamour and splendour: he thinks they have been on enough dates, now, to be dating, technically speaking - boyfriends, if labels must be pinned to it.

Which is terribly exciting, a joy for Alec in all honesty.

They are sitting in a secluded area of Central Park, where the leaves rustle and squirrels run about, and they are kissing, their pretzels long forgotten and cold.

Alec closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss.

Warmth spreads, it melts, rising throughout his body.

Magnus’ hand, no longer gloved because of the ever-increasing warmth of spring, rests on Alec’s cheek.

The heat rises, it deepens and spins, all in the space of one spring afternoon.

.

Summer dawns, sticky and humid.

Alec is glad that he resides inside, these days, with the rising and the setting of the sun, where there is the icy blessing of air-conditioning.

But Magnus has other ideas.

With the coming of June, they have been dating for three months.

They are getting more comfortable with each other, more relaxed and less censored in their actions and words.

Which means, in the natural order of things, Magnus decides to drag Alec outside on one burning Saturday - to swim, yes, but outside nonetheless.

"Come on," he says, pushing back his gleaming golden sunglasses, "it'll be fun."

"A crowded public pool?" Alec asks, with a deadpan look, as if Magnus' ideas are wilting like rotten fruit in this stuffy and oppressive summer heat. "Yeah, right."

Magnus' smile is blinding. "Now, who said anything about it being public?"

He pats his black Telsa, glittering in the midday scorching sunlight. "Come on."

Not for the first time, Alec wonders about what, exactly, Magnus does for a living - but Magnus' answers, whilst polite, are surface-level and thin, revealing nothing.

Magnus is wealthy, rich, loaded, whatever you want to call it, and Alec is curious to find out why.

Not for the sheer sake of curiosity - but because this is Magnus, and he is a mystery Alec wants to unravel.

Alec, still grumbling, gets into the passenger seat, pulling down his own dark sunglasses from the nearby two dollar shop so that they cover his eyes, which betray him by sparkling with mirth. "Fine."

If he didn't trust Magnus, didn't really want to get in, he wouldn't have gotten in. But that's the thing. He does trust Magnus, secretive as he is, and not just because he is stunning. Because he is polite, kind, generous and-

He is Magnus Bane, and that says it all.

So when they drive up to a secluded beach with pristine water lapping gently at the sandy shore, he smiles and jumps right in.

.

At the edge of summer’s end, Alec thinks he may be falling in love.

They lay together in golden sheets, and Magnus cuddles closer.

Alec can't help but smile, drifting back off into a blissful sleep.

Maybe.

Maybe, this is the one.

.

September dawns with a frostiness that Alec had long forgotten.

He’s reading after a tiring day at work - really, couldn’t Barbara turn up to meetings more often than once in a blue moon? - when Izzy bursts into his room.

She’s glowing.

“Alec,” she says, beaming. “I think he said them! Can you check?”

Ah. Her words.

Alec can’t say he’s surprised. Izzy and Raphael have been dating for nearly three years, longer than Jace and Simon have been. Raphael, to be fair, is a lot more guarded - he has been burned too many times, or so he says, tired of all of society’s ingrained aphobia.

“Sure,” he says, putting down his latest book. It’s a dry read, really, but so few people publish books on queer history in 13th century England - anyway.

She’s already twisted her hair into a bun.

The gold glow pierces the thin fabric of the grey shirt.

Izzy lifts it up with an unsteady hand.

“What did he say?” Alec says as he picks up the worn corner of the gauze, which is a horizontal strip of white across her back.

Izzy bites her lip. “I texted it to you.”

“Okay, cool,” Alec says, unrolling the gauze.

The words shine bright.

I think you are something exquisite, Isabelle Lightwood, and I don’t mind admitting it.

The tightly looped cursive burns like an ember from an eternal fire.

Alec drops the gauze, and goes to find his phone and switches it off aeroplane mode.

Magnus is oddly knowledgable about queer history, pertaining from the early 17th century or so, and is a much more eloquent narrator than this bore - so the phone had been left in his wobbly cedar cabinet to take away the temptation to talk to his boyfriend instead.

The words match, and Alec smiles, snapping a picture of Izzy’s back.

“You’re right,” he says, as Izzy turns around to face him, still glowing like the sun, “he’s the one.”

.

One’s words are terribly important.

They show the time your soulmate first meant to say I love you.

They are often hidden behind white gauze before they are spoken to offer privacy, to prevent misuse and abuse.

Alec’s words curl across his ribs.

He looks at Magnus’ sleeping form on Friday night and wonders.

Is this the one?

.

December comes in a flurry of rain, of crowds and frantic shopping.

Sometimes, looking out from his office window when he's on a break, Alec thinks it romantic. But he has Magnus, now, so he thinks that looking at the Christmas rush through rose-tinted glasses is permitted.

It is already dark when he finishes work with his burgundy scarf - a gift from Magnus - wrapped tightly around his neck.

The coolness still seeps in, but that is New York.

Tonight, he's going to shop with Izzy at a night market: just the two of them, in the speckled darkness that comes past dusk.

Alec curses when he looks down at his watch.

It's nearly six.

He didn't mean to stay so long at the office - but Mark had brought coffee, and it was so warm, whilst outside was so cold.

Izzy will be waiting for him.

He finishes buttoning up his brown leather gloves and zips up his bag, before slipping down a nearby side street.

It's not his favourite place, but it'll do the job and get him there quicker.

He's still thinking this when a massive grey dog runs into the street.

"Hello," he says, because he's always had a soft spot for dogs.

The dog growls.

Alec backs away. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

But the dog leaps forward, and slashes at Alec's chest with sharp silver claws.

Alec tries to push the dog away.

The dog growls, biting him instead.

It stings. His vision blurs.

Alec tries to get up. But instead, everything slides away into a soundless blackness.

Chapter 2: silver

He wakes amongst the chaos of a hospital.

A woman with thick black hair and dark skin is in front of him in nurse's scrubs.

"Good evening, sir," she says. "I'm your nurse, Catarina Loss. Would you like anything? And your name, please?"

"Alec Lightwood." Alec shakes his head. "Thanks, but not right now."

He goes quiet, before nausea takes over him, and drifts back off into an uneasy slumber.

.

“You need to calm down.”

Catarina’s voice floats down into the ward, and Alec’s vision swims.

“I can’t.” A man’s - it sounds as if it is Magnus - voice cracks. “I can’t calm down, I knew we had to stop Russell and now.” There’s a broken sob. “Look at what’s happened - what I let happen to Alexander .”

It’s Magnus.

Alec can’t speak, hooked up with a million or so tubes, his tongue heavy.

Don’t worry, he wants to say, it’s just a bad dog bite.

Instead, he falls back into a restless sleep.

.

Next time he wakes, it is morning - early dawn, the light slipping past the hastily drawn blinds.

Catarina walks in and closes the door shut.

“Alec,” she says, hesitantly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he replies.

Catarina nods, biting her lip. “Magnus is outside. Would you like him to come in?”

Alec frowns. He wishes that the lights were less bright. “I mean, yes, but what about my family?”

Catarina can’t seem to meet Alec’s eyes, fidgeting with the black ballpoint pen clipped to her notebook. “You can see your family, but first - first there is something we need to tell you, about your attack. Well - I’d ask you to sit down, but you’re already lying down in a bed, so.”

The door clicks open once more, and Magnus steps inside.

His face is bare of make-up except for the faintest trace of eyeliner around his eyes and his hair is hanging limp. His clothes look slept in and there’s this wild, harried look in his eyes which Alec has never seen before. In short, Magnus is a wreck, absolutely dishevelled.

“I.” Magnus gulps, unshed tears glittering in his eyes. “I don’t know where to start. Can I sit?”

Alec nods, sitting up against the white starched pillows.

Magnus sits down on a rickety white plastic chair, the farthest from Alec’s bed. “I understand if you never want to see me again, but you do have to know that I never wished you any harm.”

Alec’s ribs burn, but that’s not what really registers, in the here and now: instead he watches Magnus’ fingers twist and turn in his lap, ringless and slender.

What has Magnus done?

“I should have never started seeing you,” Magnus continues, “it was foolish of me, but it was so lovely. I forgot.” He swallows. “I forgot why I stayed away.”

Alec pulls up the blankets closer to his chest.

“The wolf that bit you was no ordinary wolf,” Magnus finally says, after a long moment of unbroken silence.

“A wolf? In inner-city New York? I thought it was a dog,” Alec cuts in, rubbing at the bandages wrapped across what seems his whole midsection.

Magnus looks up, and Alec doesn’t think he has ever seen him so shaken, so frightened. “It was a werewolf,” he whispers, “a werewolf named Russell, to be precise, but that doesn’t really matter. And - there’s a high chance that you will become a werewolf, too, in a few weeks.”

“Oh.”

He’d laugh at the absurdity of it all, but Magnus is crying, silently but heavily.

Alec wants to reach out and hug him, but he still doesn’t know if he can trust Magnus, he's acting so out of character.

“All the legends,” Magnus says with a cracked voice, “are true.”

Alec doesn’t understand, lying there still in shock.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus stands up, the scrape of his chair echoing across the room. “I can’t - I can’t do this.”

He runs out of the room and Alec looks, wide-eyed, at Catarina.

Catarina sighs, putting down her notebook. “It’s hard for him.”

“How do you know Magnus?”

Catarina smiles, but it is brittle. “I’m his best friend. I know he hasn’t told you much because he wanted to protect you, but that’s all null and void now, I’m afraid.”

She closes the door again.

“The thing is, both Magnus and I - we’re not exactly human, either.”

The world halts, stops spinning on its axis for a precarious second.

“We’re warlocks.”

.

Catarina talks, explaining this hidden Shadow World which Alec is now irreversibly part of, and Alec blinks blearily at her.

Not in disbelief, no, or shock - just in a kind of a weary realisation, like some sort of flimsy tarp is finally being removed and the world is becoming so much more clear and vivid.

Magnus’ reluctance to share anything remotely private. The malicious - malevolent, even - intent in the wolf's green eyes as it bit him.

Everything he has ever thought as true - it’s false, isn’t it?

He’s lived in a web of lies - a false reality, a fabrication, for all of his life, and now is to be roughly pulled out into an even harsher reality than the one he thought he knew.

"But I'm a warlock," Catarina finishes her explanation with, in a roundabout kind of way, "so I'm not the best person to explain the intricacies of being a werewolf. I-"

Alec holds out his hand. "Thank you, Catarina, for the detailed explanation, but I would like to rest now."

Catarina nods, and leaves the room.

Alec doesn't know what to think, how to feel.

He falls into an uneasy sleep, and dreams of red flashing lights and the cracking of bones.

.

It is late evening when he wakes, and Max, Maryse, Jace and Izzy are all already there.

"Alec, honey," Maryse says, who is standing at his bedside and absentmindedly running her fingers through his limp hair, "how are you feeling?"

Alec tries to sit up, but it's pointless - he's too tired, so he simply slumps down further instead. "A bit rough," he admits, though he wishes he could draw the curtains around himself, hide his weakness from his siblings, protect them from all the horrors of the world even though they are all now adults. "Not going to lie, that wolf took me by surprise."

Izzy, who Alec can't help but note is not wearing any make-up, gasps. "A wolf? In central Manhattan?"

Alec laughs, though it is weary and strained. "I was surprised too. Sorry about missing our appointment, by the way."

Izzy shakes her head, taking one of his hands and rubbing circles into it, her crimson nail polish chipped. "Don't apologise, Alec. We're just glad that you're okay."

Alec thinks about how he may be a werewolf.

How Magnus up and left.

Okay? Maybe physically, if that.

But his family has already fretted too much, so instead, he simply nods and lets their chatter sweep his thoughts away to a happier place.

.

The next day, a young woman wearing a studded leather jacket visits him.

Catarina closes the door. “This is Maia Roberts, the head of the New York werewolf pack.”

Maia's eyes flash green. "Alexander Lightwood, is it?"

Alec slowly sits up. "I prefer Alec, but yeah."

Maia sits down on the rickety chair Magnus had abandoned the previous day. "If you are a werewolf, you can come to my pack. There's about twenty of us, and we live down by the docks."

"Thank you for the offer - can I keep my job?" he asks. "I live with my siblings - do I have to leave?"

Maia sighs, rubbing her fingers together absentmindedly. "It's a bit complex. Not an outright no, like it would be if you had become a vampire - burning up whenever the sun touches you is a little obvious  - but it's not easy, mixing these two worlds."

"Do you still keep in touch with your family?"

Maia stiffens. "No, but that's more on them then my transformation."

Alec nods. "Okay. Am I allowed to tell them?"

Not telling Jace, Izzy, Max or his mum isn't really an option for him - but, he would rather not be dragged up before some supernatural law court.

Maia shrugs. Her burgundy boots clack against the grey speckled linoleum floor. "You can if you want."

Alec sighs, and listens half-heartedly to a complex discussion of werewolf politics and abilities.

She is nearly finished when she reaches the topic of soulmates.

"You are allowed to tell your soulmate about the Shadow World," she says.

The scars on her neck are silver. He wonders if they cover up her words.

"Though," she continues, with an all too casual shrug, "they are often a member of the Shadow World themselves."

Alec nods.

And tries to not think of the burning of his ribs when he last saw Magnus, and what it all may mean for a man who seemed terrified of everything since the events of yesterday.

A man who Alec may, despite all of this wretched secrecy, be in love with.

.

After Maia leaves, Alec stares at the ceiling.

"All this secrecy - is that why Magnus didn't tell me he's a warlock when I was a mundane?"

Catarina takes away his tray. "Partially. It's frowned upon, dating a mundane."

"Oh," Alec says, trying with little success to ignore his own rising disappointment.

He's had many shocks on the last 24 hours, but the biggest so far has been Magnus walking out, and not coming back.

.

He's discharged three days later, just in time for New Year's Eve.

He still hasn't seen Magnus, not since that harrowing day when everything changed.

Jace picks him up, in the rambleshackle vehicle otherwise known as Simon's yellow graffitied truck, with a resounding thumping hug, worry lingering in his blue brown eyes.

Alec's scars are now a thin silvery red, hidden under his many layers of thick winter clothes forced onto him by his mother.

Catarina said that's a sign of being a werewolf - healing too fast to be human.

Alec shudders in the back of the truck.

"Do you need anything?" Jace asks as they turn into the highway. At this time of night, the orange lights are glowing, their shine reflected on the road wet with winter's rain.

"No," Alec says, "but thank you."

He can't be a burden on his family.

He can't.

.

When he gets home, Izzy, Max and Maryse are all waiting for him.

Izzy is the first to hug him in greeting - she's barefoot, and her naked nails strike Alec as odd - her hair loose and curly.

"Missed you," she says into his chest.

Alec pulls her closer. "Missed you too."

He lifts one hand and waves everyone else over. "Come on, I'm not fragile."

Maryse hugs him from behind, burying her head into his hair and stifling her sobs.

"Mum, I'm okay," Alec says.

Maryse rubs his neck, almost as if she is checking for a pulse. "Honey, I know - but seeing you in that hospital bed was absolutely dreadful."

"I'll try to avoid it in the future." Alec sighs, closing his eyes. "There's something I need to tell you all. But it won't be easy."

He sighs, disentangling himself from his family.

"We love you," Jace says, in a rare moment of vulnerability, "through thick and thin."

"Thank you," Alec says, "but be careful what you promise, for I might be a werewolf."

He says it firmly, decisively, looking directly at his family

Maryse is the first one to speak. "If you are to become a werewolf," she says, because of course, she believes him without hesitation, "then we will be with you every step of the way."

A smile, small and a little cracked, creeps onto Alec's face. "Just not on the full moon," he says.

The relief is euphoric.

And then, it's like the breaking of a wave: everyone crashes in to hug him again, with reassuring whispers and declarations of love.

Alec closes his eyes.

Maybe - maybe this isn't the end of the world, and his life can continue on, imperfect as it is.

If only one other person was here - he may even call this a rare moment of perfection.

.

When Alec wakes up the next morning with the bird calls of dawn, he unwraps the gauze covering his soulmark because it is burning - has been burning, since his worldview was skewed into a vastly different trajectory, and this is his first moment of true privacy.

He hasn't looked at it in ages.

And now, it glows gold.

I understand if you never want to see me again, but you do have to know that I never wished you any harm.

Alec texts Magnus right away.

we need to talk.

Hours pass, and night falls.

There is no response, and he falls asleep alone.

.

Luke Garroway is a tall, muscular man.

He is wearing a sky blue button-down shirt with navy suspenders and a police badge is clipped to his cloud patterned tie.

He doesn't look like a former werewolf alpha. Instead, Luke looks like a total and utter dad. His hair is starting to grey at the edges and he has this ease of talking, of being.

But he is here to take care of Alec if a transformation does befall him. And if need be, he can turn into a wolf and control Alec that way, and lessen the blow of what may be a harrowing night.

If he turns, but it feels like a guaranteed certainty at this point in time.

It has been three weeks since he was bitten, and he still hasn't seen Magnus or heard from him since that dreadful morning.

His heart aches.

Alec doesn't blame Magnus for what happened - a rogue werewolf bit him, randomly, on his way home from work through a shady shortcut - but he knows Magnus, maybe loves Magnus, and knows that Magnus blames himself.

The shackles on his hands are rubbing his wrists raw.

It's quiet, the dust motes settling in the dark blue evening light.

It has been a waiting game so far, words and pitying glances.

But tonight, those words will be tested.

"Stay calm, son," Luke says, breaking the stillness of the deepening night. "It's not as painful as the movies would make you think, and I won't let anything bad happen to you or because of you if you do become a werewolf, trapped in a vulnerable state."

"Thanks," Alec says. "Um, I was wondering, do you know Magnus Bane?"

Luke nods, in his fatherly and reassuring manner. "Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn? Hard to miss. He's a great guy. Why'd you ask?"

"Um." Alec bites his lip. "Well, he is - or was, I guess, I don't know, my boyfriend, before this whole debacle, and I'd like to get in touch with him, but he's been avoiding me."

Luke sighs, shaking his head and rubbing his beard flecked with grey. "Sounds like Magnus," he replies, and he sounds so weary, so bone-deep tired. "I'll try to get through to him, but no guarantees. I'm not the alpha anymore."

Alec half-smiles. "Thanks," he says, blinking, trying to not let the tears fall, "I miss him."

"It's a complex situation," Luke says, as the moon's first rays slide through the dusty window and Alec grits his teeth in pain. "Alright. Stay calm. I'll take care of you."

Alec's world creaks. Tilts.

It explodes, until the darkness of oblivion wrought on by agony befalls him.

Chapter 3: gold

When Alec wakes the next day, he is weary, and his muscles ache.

Luke is gone.

He must have had to leave for work.

Someone has placed a thick grey and blue blanket on top of him, keeping him warm as the midday sun, a slither of warmth amongst the ever present coolness of winter, filters into the room through the one lone window.

Still, Alec shivers. It is mid-January, and last night the full moon rose.

He is a werewolf.

And there are no ifs or buts or maybes, not anymore, not after this first tiresome transformation on a frigid winter night.

What is to be done now, with this now certain eternal bleakness? The world of before torn out of his reach, and the world of the future one clouded with instability.

Alec sits up, letting the blanket pool at his waist, the rumbling of a nearby heater filling the room.

If he had any energy left, he may have gasped when he notices the person sitting on the nearby wooden chair with peeling blue paint.

But as it is, he blinks, and that is to be enough.

"Magnus?" he croaks.

Magnus is dressed in a ruffled but close-cut burgundy suit, with tiny golden buttons shining in the weak winter light.

Magnus nods, and he looks as afraid as he did those three weeks ago, when Alec woke with poison in his blood.

"Where have you been?" Alec continues, his voice cracking.

Magnus waves his hand - a flurry of icy blue sparks, and then a glass of water materialises into the silent place, which he hands to Alec. "Here."

Alec accepts it with trembling fingers. "I've missed you, Magnus."

"I've missed you too," Magnus says, with downcast eyes which are devoid of his former confidence and flirtations. "I have been busy - Russell has been imprisoned, and it took a while to clean it all up."

"Three weeks, Magnus?" Alec asks. "Did it take that long?"

Magnus flinches.

"I'm scared, Magnus. I don't blame you for what happened. It's not your fault. But I want you to be here."

Magnus looks up. For once, his face is bare of make-up, and his hair lies flat.

"I put you in a dangerous position by dating you," he says, restlessly rubbing together his ringless fingers with chipped copper nail polish. "As a powerful figure of the New York Downworld community, people look at cruel ways to manipulate me. And you, as a mundane, so vulnerable-"

"I can look after myself," Alec cuts in, "and you cannot hold yourself responsible for the actions of others."

Magnus sighs. "I know this - rationally, but irrationally all I can think of is a world where you are dead, or here and now, where you must resent me."

"I don't resent you," Alec says, his voice softening. "I could never resent you."

I love you , is what he thinks. Please don't make me live without you. I couldn't bear it.

Magnus' hand moves to his side. "Oh," he replies. "I - can I still see you?"

"I would very much like to continue dating you," Alec says. "I care for you immensely, and would love for my entry into this new world to be by your side."

"Okay," Magnus says, softly. "Okay, Alexander. Text me when you want to next meet up. I." He blinks back tears. "Thank you, for not leaving me now that the truth has been so callously revealed."

"Please don't thank me, when it is a blessing to be with you," Alec says, as exhaustion takes him over once more, "and I'll see you soon."

There is the rustle of clothes, and then silence.

.

When he gets back home, a fortnight after his transformation, to a meal cooked by Jace - spaghetti and bolognese - some of his life has resumed to some semblance of normality.

Simon - of course, Simon is here, he may as well live here by now, as attached to Jace as he is - is sitting at the table and chatting to Raphael.

Simon, who lives with his best friend Clary Fray, who happens to be the daughter of werewolf Luke Garroway.

So much entanglement in the Shadow World, that he now knows of it. Luke has been like a dad to Simon - and now, three more mundanes know because of one bite.

And he's nagging Raphael, who, as it happens, is the head of the New York Vampire Clan.

It has been a time of revelations.

Izzy had reassured him that Raphael had told her that he was a vampire about six months after they had started dating: not the full complexities of everything, but somethings that couldn't be very well explained away.

As Catarina had so aptly put, vampirism is a hard trait to fully conceal, more so than magic running through your veins or sleepless full moons.

Raphael is scowling, faced with Simon's nattering as he is. Looping around his wrist are Izzy's words shining in silver: I love you, and I don't care about the rest .

Alec hangs up his coat next to four others.

He's invited Magnus to tonight's dinner: and it is to be an interesting one, no one having to hide anything.

Well, except for the words burning underneath his shirt.

The words have glowed gold for nearly a month now, yet Alec is still filled with this strange apprehension of confrontation.

They haven't met since the day Alec had woken up definitively a werewolf, a member of the Downworld.

Soulmates. What a strange, fate driven concept.  

You would think that it would make things easier, more clear-cut and definite, not more complex.

The doorbell rings.

Alec walks to the door and opens it. It's Magnus - of course it is Magnus, with his silk blue scarf wrapped around his neck and an expensive bottle of champagne in his hand - and he steps in and hugs Alec tightly.

"I've missed you," Magnus mumbles against the crook of Alec's neck.

Alec knows that they are cloaked in darkness, that no one is watching him, so he holds on tighter. "I've missed you too."

His heart aches, and he wants to kiss Magnus, hug him until the end of time, but.

His siblings insist on some sort of social presence and engagement from him, sometimes, and unfortunately tonight is one of those times.

"Right," Alec says, as he reluctantly pulls away and takes the bottle of champagne off Magnus. "Let's go."

Alec can't help but grab, hold on tightly to Magnus' hand.

He's here, and he's not going away.

They walk into the teasing joviality of his family, maybe their family.

Raphael and Magnus have been best friends for decades: for Alec, it is his siblings and their soulmates.

And his, too. Maybe.

Maybe, tonight is the night when everything will finally fall into place.

.

After dinner, after the chatter and endless ribbing has passed, Magnus tugs Alec to the side.

"Um," Magnus says, biting his lip, "Alexander, could we please talk somewhere private?"

Alec nods, stifling the urge to ruffle his hair which he let Jace, for some God-forsaken reason, gel to the high heavens this morning. "Sure."

He's already scrubbed his room down in anticipation and nerves, the navy blue sheets uncrinkled and his mirror shining.

It's not like this is the first time Magnus has come into his home, into his room - they have been dating for ten or so months. But it has been around a month since that terrible night, and Alec feels rough and raw - exposed to a thorough and brutal scrutiny as if his scaffolding, his skeleton, is now on display to the world.

Magnus is a kind man. A generous man.

But. Soulmates are a finicky, touchy business, even for someone as compassionate as Magnus Bane.

They are intimate, revealing. Once the bond settles and sets, it is said that emotions of the other can be felt, experienced fully and boundlessly.

They are both guarded men, with layers hiding their hearts: even in a normal situation, this is not an easy task.

But this is far from a normal situation - he is a werewolf, now, and Magnus is a centuries-old warlock.

"Sit down," Alec says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his too neatly done up bed.

Magnus sits, almost delicately as if he is afraid of taking up too much space, on Alec's bed.

Alec sits on his desk chair and pulls his grey woollen blanket onto his lap, so he can twist it in his fingers and do anything but think of what is to happen, in a few short seconds.

"So," Magnus says. He starts to pull off his jumper, then stops. "May I?"

Alec tries not to stare, to not second guess. "Sure."

Magnus carefully pulls off his dark blue jumper threaded with silver, then starts to unbutton his shirt.

This isn't the first time that Alec has seen Magnus undress. But it is the first time that it has been so fraught with nerves, so full of uncertainty and fragility.

Words, where there had been none before, now curl in sparkling golden glory across Magnus' chest.

"Oh," Alec says, softly. He's not surprised, exactly, but he is scared. Scared that Magnus doesn't want him anymore, that this is his gentle way of letting him down.

Feelings can change, in particular after the whirlwind of a month they have had.

Alec reads I don't resent you, I could never resent you and wishes he could carve his heart out.

One thing he's never liked about soulmarks: they can betray your feelings before you're ready to confront them - to even acknowledge their mere existence, sometimes.

Alec cannot bring himself to meet Magnus' eyes, and pulls the blanket further up his chest.

He's never felt more exposed.

"Well," Alec says, swallowing, "they're true, Magnus. I - I do love you, Magnus, most ardently, but-"

"But what?" Magnus cuts him off. "But what, Alexander?" His voice softens. "I love you, too. Isn't that enough?"

Alec sighs. "I hope." He takes off his own jumper and shirt, carefully with fingers that yearn to shake and tremble but somehow stay steady, twisting to the side so that Magnus can read the glittering words. "We're soulmates, aren't we?"

Magnus looks at him with shimmering eyes. Tears sit in them, but they do not fall. There's a slip, a blur, and the familiar warm brown eyes are replaced by gleaming golden cat eyes. "Are we?"

There's such hesitancy, such apprehension and hope in his voice.

Everything is so complex, so uncertain.

But maybe this doesn't have to be.

Alec gets up. Walks a few steps. Sits down almost on top of Magnus.

He tugs Magnus towards him, runs his hands through Magnus' hair. "I think so, soulmate."

"Oh God," Magnus say, putting his hand on Alec's shoulder, idly tracing circles with his fingers, "I hope so, Alexander, I really do hope so. I love you so much."

"I love you too." There is no other answer that Alec could have given. "Magnus, your eyes."

Magnus leans back, almost as if he is ashamed. "What about them?"

Alec can't help but stare, enraptured by their beauty. "They're gold."

Magnus takes his hand off. Turns to the side. "I'm sorry you have to see them," he says, his voice now muffled, "they're my warlock mark - I lost control."

"Don't apologise," Alec says, "they're beautiful, Magnus. You're beautiful. There is nothing ugly about you."

Magnus looks back up, and Alec swallows.

Magnus looks so vulnerable now, but evermore so trusting and willing to place his heart etched from diamonds into Alec's earnest but scarred hands.

"I love you, no matter what," Alec says, because if there is one thing he will do, again and again, is forevermore remind Magnus how much he is loved.

Magnus' hand cups Alec's cheek. "Thank you, Alexander." He meets Alec's gaze with his eyes still unglamoured. "I love you - unconditionally."

Then Magnus pulls him in.

A blink, a second of hesitation.

And then they are kissing, like it is the most natural thing in the world.

.

Alec slips back into the freezing office on the top floor of the red and brown brick building, and it is like he never left.

His boss - Lucy, a middle-aged woman with thick spectacles and wiry blonde hair streaked with grey - nods when she spots him.

"It's good to have you back, Alec," she says, "Mark had to pick up a few of your time-sensitive projects, but other than that, business as usual."

Alec nods, placing his coffee down on his desk next to Coralie, whose manicured nails tapping on the keyboard will be a welcome reminder that his life is normal, as normal as it can be as a 21st-century werewolf dating an immortal warlock.

Time to take back some blessed mundanity.

.

Spring comes again in a flurry of new growth, of new life, of rejuvenation and sunshine.

A year has passed since he last sat at this café with his beloved: the chalkboard out front is now navy blue, and the cobblestones are somewhat more crowded.

The same waitress with auburn hair places his hot chocolate in front of him, laden with white and pink marshmallows.

"Thank you," Alec says, unlinking his and Magnus' hands.

Their silver rings glitter in the late afternoon sun.

Magnus smiles, sipping his own black coffee. "Love, do you need some hot chocolate with your marshmallows?"

"I'm fine," Alec says, "it's enough, you need to appreciate marshmallows more."

"Hm," Magnus replies, "if you say so, fiancé."

"Of course." Alec puts down his cup and links their hands together. "Why wouldn't I?"

Magnus' smile broadens, like the golden yellow rays of the sun on a perfect day. "Aren't you sweet enough?"

Alec can't help but smile when Magnus' other hand curves around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss.

Magnus may taste like black coffee, but he is Alec's soulmate.

More than that, he is Magnus Bane, Alec's love - forevermore, until everything fades away into oblivion.

Their kiss deepens, and Alec sighs, his mark tingling with pleasure.

Come sunshine or rain, mundanity or the crazy world of the supernatural, they are to be immortal lovers.

Alec Lightwood loves Magnus Bane.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

[thelaserdiscfiles]

On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969, Bond no. 6, Dir. Peter R. Hunt)

After a successful run of 5 Bond films, Sean Connery decided to hang up the holster and explore other ventures. This would not be a permanent departure from the series, in fact it would not be his only departure and return to the series, but we'll get into that. After Connery's temporary retirement from the role, series producers Broccoli and Saltzman began pre-production for filming an adaptation of The Man With The Golden Gun, featuring Roger Moore as Bond, intending to shoot it in Cambodia. However, between Roger Moore signing up for another series of the television show The Saint and political instability in southeast Asia at the time, this didn't come to fruition, thus TMWTGG and Moore were shelved for a later day. In fact, OHMSS was originally to be made post-Goldfinger, but the rights legal battle I mentioned a few posts ago was resolved, and EON was able to move forward with Thunderball.

Enter George Lazenby, a 29 year old Australian model who had more or less no acting experience aside from appearing in a chocolate bar commercial. Lazenby is kind of the movie star that was never to be. He kinda lucked into an astonishing amount of potential by starring in this movie, but unfortunately for him, he squandered it by declaring shortly into filming that he would only be starring as James Bond in one film, as he had been convinced by his manager the the Bond franchise would not remain solvent into the seventies. Yes, time has born this out to be an incredibly poor decision, and incredibly ironic, as the franchise has stood the test of time very well. But, going from the tumultuous 60s into the more civilized and freer 1970s, who's to say if it would have been at the time? Yes, hindsight is 20/20. It's easy to, in 2019, laugh at Lazenby's decision as very poor judgment and mismanagement, but at the time it was not known that the Bond franchise would be a titan that transcends decades.

The movie begins with James Bond driving along in his sweet new Aston Martin DBS Vantage, when he gets passed by a totally bitchin' red Mercury Cougar XR-7. Given that the Merc was driven by a pretty woman, Bond naturally takes an interest, and prevents her from drowning herself in the ocean.....and is attacked by two thugs who presumably want the woman. After beating them down, the women takes off as Bond quips "this never happened to the other fellow", and opening credits role.

The woman, revealed to be contessa Teresa di Vicenzo, or, just Tracy to her friends, is the troubled daughter of an Italian crime lord. Her father, seeing some kind of potential in Bond, attempts to bribe him into wedding his daughter with a princely dowry of one million pounds. Bond refuses, however, he continues to romance Tracy on the condition that her dad reveal the location of his nemesis, SPECTRE numero uno, Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Finally having a shot at Blofeld, Bond returns to London only to be told by his superior M to drop it, and Bond resigns from MI6. Well, tries to, at least, as M's secretary Moneypenny changes the resignation notice to a request for vacation. Bond then makes tracks to Tracy's dad's birthday, where he finds himself in a genuine romantic relationship with her. Inevitably, her father's sources lead Bond to a geneologist for London's College of Arms, and learns that Blofeld is scheming to attain a title of nobility, claiming to be Count Balthazar de Bleuchamp, and that he is holed up in a mountain in neutral Switzerland, running an allergy clinic. Impersonating the geneologist and donning his silliest outfit, Bond heads for Piz Gloria, Blofeld's compound high in the Alps, and, after seducing several of the young patients and finding out that they're being brainwashed to taint the world's food supply, Bond is caught and outed at the spy he is, despite coming face to face with Blofeld, who apparently remembered him looking more like a certain Scotsman. Bond is imprisoned, but escapes by skiing down the mountain with the bad guys, including Blofeld's head henchwoman, Irma Bunt, behind him. Hiding from his pursuers in a mountain town, he comes across, of all people, Tracy, who is in town doing some skating. Together they take flight in her Cougar, and more skiing ensures. Blofeld triggers an avalanche, and manages to abduct Tracy. Along with her father and his men, Bond stages a daring raid on Piz Gloria, and rescues Tracy, but Blofeld manages to escape on a secret bobsled. Later, with M, a weepy Moneypenny and a proud Q present, Bond and Tracy wed, only for Blofeld and Bunt to gun her down in a drive-by shooting, leaving James Bond to weep over the body of his dead wife.

Fifteen or so years ago, when I was first REALLY getting into the series, Lazenby and OHMSS were stalwarts of worst Bond/Bond movie lists everywhere. Contemporary reviews seemed to focus on one thing: George Lazenby isn't Sean Connery. Connery had been the face of the series since the beginning, a series for which the public had a voracious appetite for. In my personal opinion, they just weren't ready for the face of that to change. However, in 2019, as I right this, the movie has undergone considerable reappraisal. Industry bigshots Steven Soderberg and Christopher Nolan have cited it as their favorite of the series. Lazenby himself is still rather polarising. You either like him or you don't. I do. I personally believe that had he stuck with the role, and gone on to make Diamonds are Forever and especially Live and Let Die, and we had not had poor Roger Moore languish in the role til 19-80-fucking-6, we would have had a vastly different franchise. A franchise that I lement the loss of the possibilities of, and had Lazenby been the face of that franchise, matured with it, I think he would be infinitely better remembered. He has a youthful flippancy about him, and a greater physicality than Connery ever had. I genuinely enjoy the dynamic between him and Tracy, who is played by Diana Rigg, who modern audiences will probably NOT (it has been 50 years since OHMSS) recognize and Olenna Tyrell from the HBO juggernaut Game of Thrones. A lot of people didn't like when Bond wept over her dead body. I do agree that Connery probably would not have done that. For me Lazenby balances the quintessential hard drinkin' Aston Martin drivin' PPK shootin' womanizin' tropes that the series had become known for with a healthy dose of humanity. The things he could have done...even though it was literally 20 years before my birth....still bothers me.

The action in this movie is both thrilling and beautifully shot. The skiing scenes put that of Moore-era flick The Spy Who Loved Me, which was made nearly a decade later, to shame. The car chase with the big, brawny Cougar XR-7 is just awesome, a chase made better for me by the fact that it's Tracy, not Bond, behind the wheel. The penultimate bobsled scene is, goofiness aside, pretty damn exciting. The music, including the driving opening theme (the first, and only theme in the series to be an instrumental piece) and the Louis Armstrong-sung tune We Have All The Time In The World are really good and have a great late 60's feel.

If I had to pick one thing that doesnt do it for me....it's easily Telly Savalas....Mo'fucking Kojak, as Blofeld. Savalas, despite being a bigger and more physical and intimidating figure than Donald Pleasence,..I just can't take him seriously. I seriously expect him to say "who loves ya, Bondy" and start sucking on a lollypop at any moment. That said....he is easily the most fun rendition of Blofeld, despite Savalas playing the character deadly serious.

Depsite middling reviews and reception, OHMSS brought in over ten times it's budget of 7 milion, which was 3 mil less than YOLT. But Lazenby was out. Who would fill the tux next? Well....to the great joy of the general public, EON would manage to tempt back Sean Connery for one last (official) Bond film....James Bond would be back in Diamonds are Forever.

[ebelwrites]

Hisame’s Raffle Prize

Hey, look what finally got done! This was my first attempt at writing ibvs, so I’m a little nervous about how it turned out. But I think it went okay and I hope you like it, Hisame. Sorry I’m not tagging you immediately, I’m trying to use this fic as an experiment to see why my last two fics didn’t show up in searches; the running theory is, in addition to not being allowed to swear in the tags, you also can’t say the f-word at all in text. Anyway, I’ll dm it to you so I know you find it. And so, I hope everyone enjoys! EDIT- Experiment confirmed: You can’t say the f-word in anywhere on tumblr anymore, whether it be tags or text. Tagging Hisame now.

“What happened to your face?” Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to start a conversation, but Isaac didn’t feel the need to adhere to typical conversation etiquette. The angry twin, Nevin, he remembered, glared at him with an eye that was rapidly swelling. He also had a split lip and generally looked roughed up.

“That bastard Quinton,” Nevin spat, wiping away the blood from his mouth. “The coward attacked me with his cronies watching, so I couldn’t use my powers against him.” Isaac grit his teeth; the beginnings of purple bruises were appearing on Nevin’s face.

“Do you want some ice or something? My place isn’t far.” Isaac wasn’t entirely certain why he offered, maybe he didn’t want the guy bleeding in the street or maybe he thought that Nevin would go seeking revenge on Edward if left him to his own devices, but at least Nevin seemed as confused about his offer as he did.

“Why?” The glare hadn’t lessened in the slightest and Isaac suddenly remembered just how little he knew about the other. “What reason could you have for wanting to help me?”

“Because I have a soul? Look, I hate Error about as much as you do,” Nevin snorted at that, “and I enjoy doing things that would piss him off. You also look like you just got mugged, so can you just accept my help without questioning it?” The other was silent for a moment afterwards before he finally spoke again, voice much softer and quieter.

“Okay.” Isaac let out a sigh before turning around.

“Come on. My place is just around the block.”

“Piece of shit Quinton,” Nevin hissed and grit his teeth as Isaac helped to clean his split lip, “The instant I can catch him without witnesses, he’s going to regret it.” Isaac rolled his eyes.

“Or maybe, you could not do that.” The glare Nevin gave him was much less threatening with one eye behind an ice pack.

“I thought you didn’t like Error.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I think beating him up behind the school is a good idea.” Isaac finished up with what he could do for Nevin’s wounds and sat back. The other boy had a look on his face that said he knew Isaac was right but didn’t like it.

“You know, since he used witnesses against you, how about trying to use them against him?” Nevin raised an eyebrow at that, but he seemed interested. “Your strength means you could jam his locker door or something. If it’s in the school, it just looks to everyone else like bad luck.”

“And he couldn’t say it was me without looking crazy.” An evil grin spread across Nevin’s face. “That’s great! A terrible case of bad luck and he has to stew in the truth that he can’t share.” The black-haired boy started to stand and his ice pack began to slide away before Isaac stopped him.

“Don’t get up, keep icing that eye.” He opened to a blank page in his notebook and took out a pen. “I can write while we brainstorm.” Nevin blinked at him, puzzled.

“You… want to help?” Isaac gave an evil grin that almost outshined Nevin’s earlier one.

“I did say I didn’t like Error. I’d enjoy knocking him down a peg or two.” Nevin remained puzzled for only a few moments more before his enthusiasm returned twice as strong. “Error’s series of unfortunate events. Sounds good?”

Nevin snorted and mumbled something about ‘that show’ before moving closer to Isaac and beginning to pitch ideas. Isaac wasn’t certain why he noticed so sharply that he and Nevin were almost touching.

Hey, Isaac,

The alert made Isaac look at his phone. The ID said ‘Nightmare’; Nevin had told Isaac about that old nickname and the artist felt it fit the strange boy.

I’ve been thinking about the finale. I’m thinking it should be something big, something public, but also something that Error know it’s from us while the rest of the school doesn’t.

Another text came through quickly.

That is, if you’re okay with him knowing you’re involved in this. If not, we’ll just have him know it was me.

They’d started their campaign a couple days ago; Edward was suddenly finding himself with unfortunate and repeat cases of exploding pens in his bag, jammed lockers, and black stains. Isaac could see him growing more and more frustrated with every incident that happened to him, and giving Isaac dark looks whenever he spotted him. Isaac had taken to avoiding the art room just to make sure that Edward couldn’t pull him into another closet.

I’m cool with it, Isaac sent back, we can work out ideas for what to do this afternoon.

That was another part of his routine that had changed. Ever since the first day, Nevin had been coming over every afternoon they could manage and they’d been planning together. Isaac had found himself enjoying the other boy’s company far more than he’d thought.

A soft snort made Isaac quickly glance over to the desk next to him, hiding his phone in a panic. Chris stared back at him with a look of complete amusement. Isaac sighed and tried to calm his racing heart.

“So,” Chris leaned in with a grin that spelled nothing but mischief, “you and Nevin are getting pretty close, huh?”

“Yes,” Isaac drew out the word in suspicion, “I’m helping him with something.”

“Something that requires you to meet practically every day?” There was something in Chris’ tone that made Isaac feel, not threatened but definitely uncomfortable. He felt almost like he’d been caught in a lie or had a secret slip out.

“It’s something he wants done properly, so we’re spending a lot of time on it.” Chris sat back at that and didn’t say anything for a while. It was almost long enough for Isaac’s attention to drift away.

“Do you like him?”

“No.” The answer came quickly, too quickly. Chris raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Is that your real answer, or just what you think you should say?” Isaac glowered at his friend before turning away. He heard Chris eventually give up and turn back to his own work, allowing Isaac to pull out his phone again. He had several messages from Nevin, the last asking ‘Something up?’

Isaac hesitated briefly before shaking himself and replying with ‘Chris was just being a jerk, don’t worry about it.’ Chris’ question remained in his head for the rest of the day, and Isaac found he couldn’t find a proper answer for it.

Afternoon came and Isaac found himself sitting in his bedroom with Nevin planning out tomorrow’s Error Unfortunate Events. The smaller was excitedly scribbling ideas so quickly that they were hard to read and talking about as fast as he was writing. Who knew the thing that would get the dark kid all excited like a preschooler was causing misery to someone else? Isaac had been quiet that afternoon, Chris’ question from before still in his head. Was he saying no because that was truly how he felt, or was he saying it because it’s what he was expected to say? And so, Isaac had spent the afternoon mostly silent, just watching the other. Of course, Nevin had asked why when he noticed Isaac was so quiet but he’d just told the other that he was tired. Surprisingly thoughtful, Nevin had asked if Isaac wanted to do this another day; ‘giving Error a day of false hope before starting again’, he’d added.

But that would only be putting off finding the answer he wanted, so he’d said no. And now he observed, waiting for his answer to reveal itself. The more he watched, the more he noticed things. Things like the sparkle of mischievous excitement in his eyes, or the way his free hand gestured enthusiastically with his speech. And it brought to mind other things like his smug grin when the first unfortunate event in their plan went off without a hitch, or the laughter he let out when Isaac had drawn a plan for an idea and included a grumpy and intentionally badly drawn Edward.

Nevin eventually noticed that Isaac was staring at him and turned to look at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” It was said surprisingly softly, and was that a glimmer of concern? Isaac felt his heart rate starting to pick up, and the pieces that had slowly been fitting themselves together in his mind came into stark relief; finally, an answer. Nevin was still looking at him, waiting for his own answer. Well, if there was one thing Isaac definitely wasn’t, it was a coward.

Isaac leaned forward, and his lips met Nevin’s. The other boy was frozen stiff for several moments, long enough for Isaac to start worrying that he’d made a mistake, before leaning into the kiss himself. They parted soon after, Isaac could feel his heated cheeks and, looking over, it was clear that Nevin had flushed cheeks to match. They sat in silence for a moment, processing what had happened, before Nevin broke it with a chuckle.

“Well, if you’d wanted to kiss me, you only had to ask.” Isaac felt the last bits of worry melt away with that statement.

“So, you’re not mad?” The other shook his head in a negative before shuffling closer to Isaac.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ with a wide grin. “Pretty damn thrilled about it, actually.” He flopped onto Isaac, grin still wide with mischief. “I hope that wasn’t a one-time thing, I’ll be pretty upset if it was.”

“Uh, sure. If you want there to be more.” Isaac wrapped an arm around Nevin to help support the other’s body weight and Nevin continued his scribblings. They were in silence for a few moments more. “Does… this mean we’re boyfriends?”

Nevin looked up at him and gave Isaac the very first small and genuine smile he’d seen from the other. “Yeah, boyfriends sounds nice.”

Nevin’s laughter rang in his ears as they watched Edward’s locker explode with black goop/ink. It only got more intense as Edward realised the little calling card they’d made for him inside and screamed in anger. Isaac joined Nevin in laughing when he heard one of the minions say something along the lines of ‘nope, this is conjuring shit, I’m out’. That told Isaac all he needed to know if he’d worked it perfectly; at the back of Edward’s locker, the ink would have formed the letters ‘N’ ‘I’.

Realising that Error’s face was now apocalyptic and was gazing vaguely in their direction, Isaac decided it would be smart to get out of there and took his boyfriend’s hand to lead them away; Nevin didn’t seem to be in any condition to walk on his own at the moment. Isaac heard the distinct sounds of Edward blaming the two of them for the mess, and knew the entire plan had come to fruition when another student asked ‘are you trying to claim they have witchcraft powers?’

How Isaac wished that he could see Edward’s face when they said that, he certainly heard them go very quiet, but he supposed he’d have to settle for a sense of a job well done and maybe a kiss from his boyfriend too; once his boyfriend was able to breathe again, that is. It looked like it might be a while.

[bevioletskies]

summary: Peter and Gamora have been married for five months, so really, it’s about time they go on their first date.

(This fic takes place after everybody wants to rule the world.)

word count: 3.3k | ao3

Gamora, despite being the former princess of the Titans, was never one for a life of luxury and whimsical fantasies. She lived on a modest ship, rotated between the same three white tank tops and two pairs of pleather leggings, and only indulged in sweets when her teammates felt like it. Even thinking back to the excess of her too-public wedding made her shudder in silent disgust; the amount of gold, the cakes and pastries, the cheek kisses and high-pitched shrieks of fake excitement across the room, it all made her stomach turn. However, as she sat in the large marble tub (it was gold-plated!) of her hotel suite at the Xandar Prime Plaza, soaking away the ever-present ache in her muscles and the insistent buzz in her brain, she had to admit - there was something about a good bath that almost made it feel like it was worth compromising her values.

She flipped idly through the Galaxian Gazette, enjoying the way the gently fragrant bath oils eased their way into her dry, cracked skin. The latest society dinner of her nightmares was to start in an hour, but she never needed much time to get ready, so she was perfectly content to stay right here for at least another twenty minutes. That is, until the door burst open.

“Peter!” she exclaimed, nearly dropping her newspaper into the water in surprise. “You need to knock.”

“Honey, I’ve seen you naked at least - ”

“Not the point,” Gamora interrupted firmly. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my tie. Y’know, the one with the little spaceships - ”

“Oh,” she groaned, tipping her head back to stare despondently at the ceiling like it had personally wronged her. “You had me thinking it was an emergency. And it’s in the front pocket of your carry-on.”

“It was an emergency,” Peter insisted. His eyes flickered briefly to the newspaper. “Find anything interesting?”

“A small mention of our successful diplomatic trip to Baluur, but they misspelled your name,” Gamora said, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “The letters section is intriguing. I assumed people wrote in with problems, maybe ones we could attend to, but it’s mostly just...expressions of sentiment. Fluff pieces.”

“Can I see?” he asked, moving to sit on the edge of the tub. She angled it so he could read over her shoulder, watching his expression change while he scanned the pages. “I mean, they’re nice. It’s romantic.”

“You would think so,” she snorted. “At least they’re a sight better than the direct mail we’ve received. The ship still smells like burnt hair, and it’s been at least a week.”

“What can I say? People love a prince,” Peter grinned.

“I’d call it more of an unhealthy obsession...and you’re not a prince anymore, Captain,” Gamora retorted, sinking deeper into the bathwater out of petulance. Though she’d meant it as an insult, the huskiness of her cadence made Peter shiver.

“I’ll leave you to it, General,” he said, teasing, brushing a kiss on the crown of her head and saluting her on the way out the door. Gamora rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t help but look back to the letters, thinking back to the letters Peter’s mother had written to him while she was in the hospital, and wondered in a sort of silly, whimsical, fantastical way, if Peter would ever write a letter for her.

Dinner was the usual mind-numbing affair for the Guardians, who had become more accustomed to fistfights and all-out brawls than polite society and “how are you”s. Peter and Mantis were the most experienced with social gatherings, but still, both of them were itching to get back to the world they’d known for far shorter but far better, the world where they were heroes and not gods. It was a compromise, though; working alongside the Nova Corps meant showing up alongside the Nova Corps, and when they were called to a week-long series of conferences and meetings and dinners on Xandar, there was no saying no.

Peter and Gamora were making customary rounds as a couple, something they were still getting used to. After all, they’d been married for five months but truly together for two, and their public appearances had been pretty minimal when they were living on Ego together. It was one of the rare times where Gamora was more nervous than Peter, her fingernails digging welts into the crease of his elbow while they walked, desperately hoping no one wanted to talk to them. Unfortunately, they weren’t so lucky.

“Captain, General, what a...surprise that you’re both here,” one particular dour-looking man sniffed, completely stone-faced. “After the last incident, I wasn’t expecting Nova Prime to invite you back.”

“Nova Prime loves us, Councilman,” Peter said, his mouth tight, his syllables sharp. “I hear we’re a hit with everyone’s kids.”

“Speaking of children - ” another pair of pinch-faced diplomats came sauntering up to them, practically circling them like they were prey; Gamora instinctively took a step back. An army of soldiers, she could handle. Politicians, less so. “There’s been talk lately.”

“There’s been talk since the day we married,” Gamora said coolly. “Talk means nothing.”

“You must know how it looks to people,” the other diplomat added. “The sudden marriage, the death of your fathers - ”

“Thanos was never my father. He was a man who made the mistake of calling himself such,” Gamora continued, colder still. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” Without another word, she took Peter’s hand and led him away toward the bar, in need of a strong drink to drown out the whispers, or rather, the snide comments that some people felt far too bold about making to her face.

“Almost makes me miss the days where the most ‘duties’ I ever had were just...flying into the capital and hanging out with my people. At least they didn’t try to tell me my marriage isn’t real,” Peter sighed, sinking into a barstool. He waved the bartender over, calling for two of something with a kick.

Gamora knocked back her drink in one go, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I know this sounds strange coming from me, but you can’t blame them, Peter. No one believes our marriage was a product of love, and no one cares to listen to the fact it was the reverse. It’s natural for them to question our legitimacy. I know I would.”

The tightness in Peter’s shoulders went slack as he nodded in reluctant agreement. “Yeah, I guess. And I guess it doesn’t help we don’t do much outside of Guardians work, either. Y’know, dates and stuff.”

“Peter...just because I can see what they see, doesn’t mean we have to prove anything to them,” Gamora said slowly, setting her glass down. “We agreed that our new lives were about helping others, not about us being put up on pedestals all over again. The worship your people had for you, the fear my people had for me, it’s over. Feeding into their gossip means feeding a vicious, unrelenting beast.” She paused to glance over her shoulder at the prying eyes she could feel lingering on her back, the eyes that immediately turned another direction the moment she looked at them. It was far more people than she wanted to ever look at her, period.

“It’s not about that,” he promised. “We just...we did our whole relationship backwards, right? And there were all these things we did together that felt like dates, but weren’t really. Hanging out in the gardens, reading my mom’s letters together...hell, our engagement party was kind of a date, once we stopped thinking about what it actually was.” He took her hands in his, held them flat against his chest so she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. Gamora briefly remembered the day she’d held his hands like this while he was bleeding out in her lap. She shuddered. “Look, we’re on Xandar, we don’t got any galaxy-saving to do this week, so let’s just have a nice dinner out, you and me, without all this fake diplomatic crap.”

“That actually sounds kind of pleasant,” Gamora admitted, cracking a small smile. “Tomorrow, then?”

“It’s a date,” Peter grinned in return. “Our first real date.”

Right away, Peter and Gamora decided to keep it far more casual than the glitz and glam of the previous night, where they’d been wearing ties and cufflinks, earrings and stilettos, when they were more accustomed to worn cotton T-shirts and leather jackets with suspicious holes in them. Peter also chose a much calmer venue, one that didn’t involve sky-high columns and polished tile; instead, it was the quaint little restaurant they’d visited during the opening week of Mantis’s outreach center, small and cozy and decidedly intimate.

“This is much better,” Gamora said, relieved, once they were sat at their table. A small tealight flickered between them, harshly illuminating the planes of their faces. There was a long crack running along the surface, from Peter’s left thumb to Gamora’s right elbow. The tables were so crammed together, she was certain if she ducked her head a little too fast, her forehead would hit Peter’s, and she could feel their knees brushing together with every move they made. It was perfect. “I know you thrive with attention, but I certainly don’t.”

“Honestly? I was getting kinda uncomfortable, too,” Peter admitted. “And you also know I didn’t like how my people worshipped me for...I dunno, existing. Feels good to be actually doing something now. Something real.”

“Right,” she said abashedly. “I shouldn’t act like you’re immune. None of us are.”

“But for now...we get to be ourselves, ‘cos you know what? No one’s looking,” he grinned, gesturing around them. She glanced around, and indeed, there was no uncomfortable chill through her spine, no hairs sticking up on the back of her neck, no sweat breaking out on her brow that told her someone wanted to scrutinize her for all the things they thought she was and wasn’t. “So let’s order some food. Somethin’ real messy ‘cos we can.”

Twenty minutes later, Gamora was making her way through a hearty bowl of pasta, hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing too much while Peter recounted the anecdotes Yondu had told him about his Ravager days as inappropriate bedtime stories. It was still strange for her to think about how different their lives had been less than a year ago, oblivious to each other’s existence, and oblivious of what they were capable of. She didn’t want to remember the time where her only significant interactions with others were being dragged into training sessions and being told that she and Nebula were to hurt each other until they were raw.

She liked this far more, the surprising ease of their conversation, the steady warmth of their presence. It wasn’t just Peter, though she loved him, of course, but how much she revelled in the companionship of the entire team. There was something genuine about the way Peter and Rocket snapped at each other during frosty mornings when the Milano’s engine froze over, or Mantis’s enthusiasm for cooking despite being sort of terrible at it (and the way Drax bluntly told her it was awful, while Groot grinned through the stomach pain). It was a stark contrast between their private lives and public lives, and she hated to think what would happen if the lines were ever blurred.

“Don’t look now, but I think I see a camera.” Gamora didn’t know her heart could sink so much at the sound of Peter’s voice, an itch beginning to form in her throat from the temptation of wanting to turn around. “Crap, how did they - ”

“Another patron, most likely,” she said, slowly setting her fork down. “We should leave quietly. No need to make a scene.”

She spoke too soon, however - or perhaps too late - as Peter was getting out of his chair, advancing on the offender with a camera that looked dangerously professional (and expensive). Sometimes, she forgot how intimidating he could look when he wanted to be, his wide shoulders hunched forward, his stride long and thundering against the old wooden floor. His fists clenched and unclenched reflexively, momentarily forgetting that his Celestial powers were long gone.

“Hey,” Peter barked. “You mind not starin’ at my wife? I know she’s really something, but - ”

“Captain Quill.” Click, click went the camera; the photographer, or more accurately, the paparazzo seemed to have no shame. “You’ll forgive me for not listening to you.”

“Doubt it,” he snapped. “Leave us alone, we’re just tryin’ to have a quiet night out.”

“You two are so strange,” the other man said, letting out a tittering laugh. He lowered his camera somewhat so his beady eyes could meet Peter’s. “Pretending that killing two warmongers absolves you of killing millions of innocents. Pretending your marriage wasn’t just a scheme to distract everyone from your crimes against the galaxy. Pretending your allegiance with the Nova Corps is deserved.” He stood, towering over Peter. “Think about how many of your people are dead, your highness. Think about the dozens your precious wife killed by her own hand before you even met.”

“That’s it!” Peter roared. In one swift move, he pinned the man down, pressing his elbow into his throat until he was gasping, splayed out across his table and startling his companion. Everyone else let out shouts of surprise, scattering immediately, while a waiter went running into the kitchen for the owner, and the hostess went running for the phone.

Gamora shot out of her seat, running to grab Peter by the arm and yanking him back. “Enough, Peter!” she shouted. “I’ve already told you, this gets us nowhere. Leave him. He doesn’t deserve our attention.”

“You’re a clever one, your highness,” the man sneered, though his spite was lost in the hoarseness of his voice, sitting up and straightening out his shirt collar. Gamora wordlessly pulled Peter away from him fully, pressing a generous amount of units into the owner’s hand when she emerged from the kitchen, red in the face.

“My apologies,” Gamora said awkwardly, though sincerely, bowing her head. When the owner merely glared at Peter in a way that made even Gamora wince, the two of them left, shamefaced and shivering in the chilly Xandarian night. 

Peter barely heard a word out of Gamora during the rest of the week, aside from their obligatory duties, and he couldn’t blame her. He had apologized in the ride back to the hotel, the elevator ride to their room, and while they brushed their teeth side-by-side in the bathroom, but she still snatched up a pillow, shoved it into his chest, and informed him that the couch was his.

In his opinion - and probably Gamora’s - his temper was one of his biggest flaws, one he found irrationally difficult to control, and it certainly got him in more trouble with her than he wanted to admit to. He was getting better, though, and Gamora’s temper, too, was levelling off as they grew together, and he wanted to prove that he wasn’t the overly-sensitive, tantrum-throwing boy he’d been when she first met. He was a changing, if not necessarily a fully changed, man. It was hard not to be after all they’d been through.

Knock knock. Gamora let out a long, arduous sigh. At least he was learning. “What do you want, Peter?” she called through the bathroom door. It was the last evening before they finally got to leave Xandar and journey off to their next mission, there was one more self-congratulatory charity event starting in about two hours, and she was having another well-deserved bath.

“Got the Galaxian Gazette for you.”

Gamora stared down the length of the tub at her toes peeking out through the water. “Come in.” Peter did so immediately, pressing the newspaper into her outstretched hand. He sat opposite her on the window nook. “...is there something else?”

“Saw something interesting in the letters section, thought you might wanna read.” He shrugged with all the subtlety of Groot attempting to tiptoe to the Milano’s fridge in search of cake. Still, Gamora decided to entertain him and flipped to the aforementioned page, scanning until she found what he was talking about, and oh, it was very clear what he was talking about.

To my wife,

I remember our first date like it was yesterday (or at least, as of the day I’m writing this). In short, it was terrible, but when you’re you and I’m me, I guess it’s inevitable. I would say that our next one will be better, but that’s too optimistic, even for me.

I also remember our wedding - your dad didn’t bother showing up, and my dad was following us like a shadow. We argued through our first dance, and your brother started a huge fight before the song was over. You know what, I’m starting to see a pattern.

Anyways, I’m pretty sure they charge by the word for these things so I’ll keep it short: we may have married for power, but I would do it all over again for love. Instead of me apologizing for the thousandth time, let’s try this again. But this time, you choose what you want. All I want is you.

Love, your captain

Gamora felt the corners of her mouth twitch, daring her to smile. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to give Peter the satisfaction, though when he put his broad hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, massaging the heels of his palms into her shoulder blades, she was about ready to forgive him for anything and everything.

Gamora tilted her head upwards to meet his gaze. “We’re practically still children, Peter. What are we doing here, pretending we deserve a seat at the table?”

“Hey, you deserve it more than anybody.” He moved around to sit in front of her, his expression painfully earnest. “We talked about this. You saved billions of lives, helped kill two genocidal maniacs. The entire galaxy is safer ‘cos you decided to do somethin’ about it. The rest of us were pretty much just along for the ride.”

“Don’t downplay your contributions,” she insisted, lifting her hand to his cheek. “We’re a team, are we not? There’s no room for doubt.”

“Did you hear yourself two seconds ago?” Peter teased. He placed his hand over hers; her fingers were still slightly damp from the water, warm to the touch. “Anyways, I guess we’re never gonna get peace and quiet unless we go to the most remote planet in the universe, so we gotta just...learn to live with it.”

“Says the attention-seeker,” Gamora retorted, though she leaned in to kiss him anyway. “It’s time we focus on ourselves. We don’t let the press, the public, or anyone else trick us into thinking we deserve less than what we want. Because we do. We do, and we will.”

“You should do big speeches more often,” he murmured against her lips, letting out a quiet grunt of protest when she pulled away. “Speaking of what you want...any ideas for our second date?”

Gamora smiled then, almost impish, and Peter felt his heart melt all over again, watching her move backward in the tub so her back was against the wall, her silhouette backlit by the large window, the water sloshing precariously over the edge. She smirked. “We have at least another hour before we have to get dressed, and I believe this bathtub is big enough for two.”

Peter laughed, reaching to pull his T-shirt over his head. “I’m starting to think I should always ask you first.”

[hollenka99]

The City of Angels

Summary: Jameson moves to California with his family. Things are starting fall into place and the family expands.

May 5, 1911

Dear Pearl,

Do you recall asking me if you could join us in New York? I reckon this would have been around the time I preparing to propose to Siobhan. Well, I'm afraid you won't be able to live in New York with us after all.

You are, however, more than welcome to join us in Los Angeles when we move there in the summer. Edison is driving many of us to leave New York so his schemes won't affect our businesses. I hear the landscape varies greatly in California, perfect for filming on location, and the weather is generally good throughout the year. Another advantage to moving to Los Angeles is that is much closer to Mexico. Should anyone come to cause us trouble, we can flee past the border. I won't say we'd be untouchable in Mexico but it's far easier to avoid patent claims when those patents are not applicable in the country.

We'll be moving to an area called Hollywood. It seems to be where a lot of independent filmmakers are flocking. That will mean competition but anything is better than Edison. I'm quite looking forward to arriving in a new place. That said, I am aware we will be living much farther from Saint John than before. Visiting all of you in Canada will prove trickier.

The offer is there, Pearl. You can move to California with us or stay in Saint John with the rest of our family. Personally, I would love to embark on this new chapter of our lives with you near. I always feel a little lonelier whenever I have to return to New York after seeing you. Don't tell Cliff that, of course. He is good company but it was always the three of us. Our endeavours are unlikely to realise their true potential if you are not involved.

I hope to hear back from you soon, Jameson

May 23, 1911 Dear Jem,

Do you even have to ask me? If Los Angeles is as appealing as you said, I am enthusiastic about living there too. California has a coast, doesn't it? Is Los Angeles anywhere near the water? I am so used to the Bay of Fundy that I struggle to imagine myself living somewhere landlocked.

Nevertheless, tell me when exactly you plan to leave. I will do my best to get all my documents ready before then or shortly after. What role exactly do you plan for me to fill? You write the scripts and Cliff directs but I don't see any specific position available for me. Should I just be an actress? I will leave the financial aspects of the business to you. You were always the best at mathematics compared to the rest of us.

Excited to join you soon, Pearl

June 7, 1911 Dear Pearl,

Although I was completely expecting you to accept, it is nevertheless wonderful to have you confirm it. As for your role, actress is the default position available. You could also be responsible for anything costume related. I know you are good with a needle and neither myself nor Clifford are experts in fashion. I understand it is a little cliché to expect a woman to assume the role of fashion advisor. However, those are your areas of personal expertise and I don't believe you should ignore what you are good at. In time, you might become confident enough to take more advanced roles. Who knows, perhaps you will direct a feature film or two in the future. You do enjoy making your presence known.

Elizabeth is not going to come with us. Understandably, she is unwilling to move to the other side of the country when she has friends and a life in New York. She is likely to keep the children in Manhattan with her. It is a shame. I was thoroughly enjoying being an uncle to Clara. Their second child is less than a month away from being born so I won't get to know them either. Please don't tell Mother. You know how she feels about their union. I suspect she will become unbearable if she were to find out.

We are planning to begin our train journey across the country on July 12th. I don't know if that will give you enough time to be able to travel to California by then or not. Come whenever you can.

Give the others our love for us, Jameson

September 8, 1911 Dear Jameson,

I can't believe Cliff is distancing himself from the Church. Your father and I raised you all to be devout Catholics. I am almost insulted he has abandoned everything he was brought up to believe. Could you not have dissuaded him?

He turns his back on God, leaves his wife to raise their children alone and never gives a thought as to how that makes us look. People will begin talking. They will look towards me and say I did not perform my duty as a mother properly. I am not proud to say I knew his split was coming.

I hope you and Siobhan are doing well, Your mother

September 20, 1911 Dear Mother,

I have told you time and time again, I am not responsible for Clifford's actions. If he renounces his Christianity, there is not much I can do. Elizabeth understandably refused to leave her life in New York at short notice. He would have been indifferent about his children being bastards if he did not know you would personally deliver damnation to him. This has been coming for years.

Was it mostly lust? Possibly. Was his heart fully dedicated to being a husband? Doubtfully. Are both of us upset that we may never see Clara and Daniel again? Of course.

This is not my issue. I am tired of acting as an informant for you on matters concerning Cliff. I am surprised you aren't interested in making me spy on Pearl as well. Please, for the sake of my sanity, discuss all this with your son. He is unlikely to listen but at least I can remain uninvolved.

If you are at all interested in how I am doing, I am enjoying the novelty of a new city. I am motivated to begin work and find success with the rest of the independent filmmakers. Siobhan and I are doing fine.

Yours, Jameson

December 12, 1911 Dear all,

The Jolly Gentleman has been born. It's taken me a while to gain the courage to introduce him to the world. The hat was a birthday present from Siobhan a few years ago. His 'theme song', if you will, was composed by Siobhan herself. If he is what I am remembered for after death, I will not mind. We are a family company and my creation has been further moulded by family. Pearl suggested a blue waistcoat as opposed to the black one I owned. I suppose blue does suit me better. Pearl claims it is because of my eyes. I will have to trust her.

We are yet to see how the short does financially. I am hoping for a decent profit but that is out of my hands now. Above all, I want the public to enjoy the character so I may use him again. He is a fun man to bring to life.

Yours, Jameson

February 13, 1912 Dear all,

Siobhan and I are delighted to announce we are expecting our first child. They should arrive at the beginning of August. Needless to say, we are excited by the news ourselves.

We have equally been apprehensive about bringing children into the world. There is a chance they may inherit the condition that runs in Siobhan's family. It's called Huntington's Chorea. You might have heard of it. Siobhan's mother died of complications connected to the disease when she was 12. There is a possibility that Siobhan will develop symptoms in 10-20 years. The same goes for her brother.

The two of us were worried our children would have a similar upbringing to Siobhan's and be forced to watch her health decline drastically over many years. Not only that, they would live with the chance of suffering the same fate in adulthood. Becoming parents is laden with risks and arguably selfish. I have chosen to subject myself to the reality of her potential illness. This child will not have that choice.

Of course, this could all be pessimistic speculation. There is still the possibility that neither Siobhan nor her brother have inherited the disease. Therefore, any children we have will be spared.

We are planning to approach this with cautious optimism. After all, this is our first child. Despite everything to be anxious about, I am overjoyed.

Yours, Jameson

February 16, 1912 Dear Harvey,

I suspect this letter will arrive the same time as the one I sent to Mother. If it doesn't, I am happy to announce Siobhan is three months pregnant.

I was hoping you had some wisdom to impart. I know I could ask Cliff in person but, it is best not to. Besides, your third is due in the coming weeks. You are more knowledgeable on the subject than him anyway. If you wish to leave me to figure it out, I understand. You had no prior help so it is only fair I do not either.

Any advice you are willing to give will still be appreciated.

Yours, Jameson

March 4, 1912 Dear Jameson,

Make sure your child doesn't die, that is generally the rule of parenthood. I don't have any particular advice for you. It will come to you in time. Simply do your best. That is what everyone else does.

You'll be a good father, Jameson. There is nothing for you to worry about. Only bring him or her to Saint John once they are born.

Congratulations, Harvey.

April 24, 1912 Dear Mother,

How damaging is a mother's stress on her unborn child? A friend of Siobhan's has been missing for the past two weeks. She is fearing the worst in regards to her friend's safety. I feel being such a constant state of dread is unhealthy, especially in her condition.

This is because that ship sank. Her friend married some nouveau riche entrepreneur and suddenly they're buying first class tickets for an ocean liner. I'd blame the British for incompetency but unfortunately, I hear it was built in Belfast. Essentially, RMS Titanic sunk over a week ago and RMS Carpathia delivered the survivors to New York 6 days ago. We haven't heard of news concerning her friend yet. At the time of writing, she, her husband and children are presumed dead. The water was cold and no human can survive in the ocean for this long without a boat or food.

Siobhan is in denial and insists her friend is out there or that the news she is fine simply hasn't reached us yet. The emotional strain must be affecting the baby negatively. I am unsure how to proceed, other than attempt to prove her I am supportive.

Yours, Jameson

Anthony Isaac Jackson Male August 7, 1912 Los Angeles Siobhan O'Hara Jameson Jackson

August 9, 1912 Dear Mother,

Anthony was born on Wednesday. I was out filming when Pearl began dragging me away. Regrettably, we arrived too late. By the time we reached the house, Siobhan was already holding him. I've been apologizing profusely after unintentionally breaking my promise to her. She won't have it.

On a more positive note, Anthony is healthy and Siobhan is recovering well too. As I'm writing, he is sleeping on the other side of the room. I can't help but wonder what life he will have. If I do succeed in my career, he is likely to grow up in comfort. He won't be like me, believing he is destined for the dockyard or a factory. He won't have to live in a cramped house, go hungry or worry about when the next illness is coming. He can have a better childhood than I did.

This is nothing against you, please don't think that. I had a happy upbringing. You gave me all you could and it was more than enough for me. I am simply saying I can give him more. We'll be able to afford medical bills without stressing about debt. I always did feel guilty for getting sick so often. I don't want Anthony to desperately rely on education to raise his position.

All that is to come in the future. So long as he is happy, I will be too.

Yours, Jameson

March 19, 1913 Dear all,

Greetings from Ireland! I have finally set foot in the ancestral homeland. We are staying with Siobhan's father while in Limerick. I don't think I've met Michael before as he was unable to attend our wedding. They both seem like good men, even if they are partial to a smoke. Michael is the opposite to us. He refuses to marry or become a father. I don't blame him for choosing to live cautiously. I do find it a shame he needs to subject himself to loneliness. Both him and his father were ecstatic to meet Anthony. You will too one day, whenever we can arrange a trip.

We celebrated St Patrick's Day quite enthusiastically. I spent the entirety of yesterday recovering. They all outdrank me. Your Canadian blood has spoiled me. Perhaps, once he is older, Anthony's Irish heritage will restore an iron liver to the Jackson line.

I hope to travel north to County Offaly while we are still here. The farm is probably owned by another family by now. I still would like to see for myself where we came from. Anthony is too young to understand me but I will tell him stories passed down from his great-grandmother. I'll omit some of the more inappropriate ones, don't worry.

Wishing Father could have seen this, Jameson

March 23, 1913 Dear all,

We've visited the farm. I was right, it is privately owned by another family. They may be distant cousins who inherited it. I didn't come close enough to the place to even see the inhabitants or ask. Even so, it wasn't quite how I imagined it would look. Over 60 years has certainly passed since the starvation. The fields don't show any obvious traces of yielding nothing edible the last time Granny was here.

It was late afternoon when we were there. We are staying for the night in a geometrically challenged village. They have a circle in the road, a roundabout as the Europeans call it. However, these villagers refer to their roundabout as The Square. I am almost inspired to include this in a script.

We will be returning to Limerick and thereafter Los Angeles tomorrow. It has been good to be in Ireland, not only to let Siobhan spend time with her family, but to explore my roots. Anthony should visit at least once after he reaches adulthood.

Goodbye for now, Jameson

August 17, 1913 Dear Mother,

Anthony is picking up ASL fairly quickly now. It fascinates me quickly a child learns the things we take for granted. He is standing on his feet and able to tell us about his basic needs. I've heard the signing may slow down when he begins speaking. I don't mind that. After all, he will be a bilingual child. I feel it is more important he is able to communicate with both of us in the long term than when exactly he is able.

I've included a photograph I took of Anthony to celebrate his birthday. I know how disappointed you were when I said we couldn't come for Christmas last year. However, the five of us plan to be there in October for Thanksgiving.

Yours, Jameson

September 19, 1913 Dear boys and Pearl,

The Imperial Theatre is opening today. We will finally be able to watch your creations. I am looking forward to seeing moving pictures in general. The three of you should release something soon so I can see my children be credited.

Jameson, Anthony looks very sweet in that photograph you sent. I'm glad he is doing well. I would be delighted to have all of you there for Thanksgiving. You don't know how excited I am to finally meet your son.

Wishing you well, Your mother

November 29, 1913 Dear Mother,

With Clifford at Keystone to help our prospects, Pearl and I are missing his help. We won't betray Sennett's trust. I don't think he included a clause into the contract to prevent Cliff from working for Jackson Trinity. It is still better not to risk him being called a double agent or the like.

This does, however, mean I need a new director. The men do not take myself or Pearl as seriously as they did Cliff. He hardly ruled with an iron fist yet he was far more of an authority here than us. I am easy to ignore and Pearl is a member of the fairer sex. It is incredibly aggravating to maintain order. The contract is for two years so we must survive until then.

We are determined to make this work.

Yours, Jameson

February 14, 1914 Dear Mother,

I know you have been annoyed by Cliff's romances (and their failings). You always seem to treat me as some informant. This time I will update you on his love life willingly. All I ask is that you don't let on that I have told you when he tells you about Loretta himself.

The two of them met on set. Hers was a minor character who never interacts with Cliff's. However, when the cameras were not on them, they talked at length. He is truly happy in her company. The age difference is morally grey. At 19, she is 9 years his junior. It is not illegal by any means but there are those who may be uncomfortable with it.

Unlike with Elizabeth, he doesn't seem to be speeding through milestones with Loretta. I think he understands love takes time and effort. If he were to marry her, it is years away. He should enjoy the present.

Yours, Jameson

March 1, 1914 Dear Jameson,

This is all very nice news but you know full well he cannot marry her. In terms of the law, yes they are not married. In the eyes of God, they are still united until death. It is mentioned in the ceremony as a reminded of how serious of a commitment marriage is. What do suggest he do, kill Elizabeth? Then what of their children? They need a mother.

Yours, Your mother

March 18, 1914 Dear Mother,

I feel you are jumping to conclusions. The whole reason he distanced himself from the Church was to improve his chances of being granted a second marriage. Even so, I never said he was planning to marry her. They have known each other for less than a year. They are progressing the relationship slowly.

Although, I may steal your idea for a feature. I'm not too well versed on murder mysteries but I could always give it a shot. I don't how I could credit you. I can hardly include "Idea inspired by Florence Jackson's motherly rants" in the credits.

Yours, Jameson

June 30, 1914 Dear Jameson,

Did you hear about the assassination? I'm not very knowledgeable on European affairs but I can tell this might become a political disaster. Austria-Hungary must have allies. I can't recall who is allied with the Austro-Hungarian Empire but I'm sure Germany is one of them.

I don't think this assassination will end typically. Normally, the public figure will get mourned en masse and would be replaced with the next leader. This is different. There has been plenty of tension in that area of the world, hasn't there? After all, that is why the archduke got shot in the first place. Those Serbians hate the Austro-Hungarians so furiously, they are prepared to stain their hands with blood. Who knows what the assassins were trying to achieve. Probably a little more than a message to those in power.

I feel there is going to be a war in Europe. Serbia will fight Austro-Hungary and Germany will find themselves caught up in the mess. You'll be hearing about it by the end of this year.

Yours, Harvey