#should I tag pro gingers?

[olenvasynyt]

In the Azriel bonus chapter, Az leaves Rhys after their little fight and he says this: 

“He'd been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight ... tonight had proved he'd been right to do so.”

And then you know what happens?  When Az keeps away from Elain, and he goes to the training pit, he stumbles upon Gwyn.

I think so many things point to Gwynriel in this bonus chapter.  The shadows reactions to her are something people often bring up to support Gwynriel.  They are curious, they dance to her breath.

And I can talk more about how the shadows react, all of the similarities Gwyn and Az have with each other ( made a post about that already, link here!), the foreshadowing people like to bring up, the retconning SJM has done for Gwyn, etc.  But I feel like I don’t even need to mention any of those tidbits even though I think they are important.  

All I need to know is the bonus chapter (which is usually used to tell the reader what will happen in the upcoming book) starts with Elain, and ends with Gwyn.

We can also analyze how the chapter is set up, the transition from Elain to Gwyn, the stark contrast between the two interactions and the feelings Az experiences, and we can compare a few sentences that are alike to understand what SJM might be trying to do. So I want to simplify what happens and focus on Az’s feelings throughout the BC.

It starts with him restless and filled with lust and desperation.  There is a constant looming feeling of self-harm almost because Az doesn’t take care of himself.

He found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer, and he stumbles upon Elain. During his time with Elain, we get this lust, self-hatred, guilt, desperation.  He doesn't want to taint Elain with his presence. He constantly says this is wrong, it’s a mistake.  

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her.

Wrong—it was so wrong.

And then Rhys interrupts and we see anger and spitefulness from Az.  He is defensive, he is in denial.  

"So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." Azriel snarled softly.  "Snarl all you want." Rhys leaned back in his chair. "But if I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it."  Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage.

And when he leaves, he goes back to this kind of self-harm because he goes and uses cold to numb his feelings.  

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him. Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all.

He felt nothing.  Was nothing again at all.  A way of self-harm, and it brings out his self-hatred that we saw before.  We continue to get these feelings of disappointment and regret when he says that he was right in avoiding Elain, and we see him have feelings of temptation, rage, frustration, and writhing need.  And he goes to work off these feelings.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work of the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.   He found it already occupied. His shadows had not warned him.

And then we get to Gwyn.  We see his interactions with her and how he has a bit of empathy and maybe pity, but also amusement—he can’t help his soft chuckle. He also opens up to her and drops a very important personal bit of information, something Azriel almost never does.  

"Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?" Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes."

And we get him working off his temptation and rage and frustration but in a way he didn’t expect.  He was planning on doing it alone and probably in the same sort of way we see with how he sat in the cold by himself: he uses pain to dull his feelings.  But instead of doing this, we see him help Gwyn with her training.  And we see a change in his emotions: his shadows, aka his inner voice, end up calming.  The restlessness in him eases.  He feels content and calm around Gwyn, even after what happened with Elain and Rhys.

Ariel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.

I truly don’t understand how people take this as Gwyn manipulating Az with her “lightsinger” abilities.  Because he starts with so many negative emotions, and walks out calm.  The restlessness in him eased.  That’s nothing nefarious, it’s a good thing!  So many sentences when he’s teaching Gwyn show that this is a good thing.  

So we see this switch in his emotions.  But let’s also talk about the several sentences that contrast with each other in the bonus chapter.  

We have a sentence that contrasts with the one I brought up before of him flying and making himself so cold he gets numb so he doesn’t feel anything.

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him. Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all.

"Again," he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson.

When he left Rhys, he was nothing, and the cold made him feel nothing.  But during this lesson, he’s still cold but he’s a teacher to Gwyn.  He is something.  He has a healthier way of coping with his feelings when he’s with Gwyn.

He also says this to Gwyn:

“Happy Solstice," Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. "Don't stay out too much longer. You'll freeze."

This is adorable and ironic and sweet and ugh...such a good little nod to the details SJM brought up before.

When Azriel leaves the training pit, we get another sentence that uses “he found himself” in this bonus chapter:

Before it was, “He found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer.” And at the end of the BC we get, “Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening.”

SJM is using identical phrases to kind of draw a circle in Az’s journey throughout this bonus chapter.

 He finds himself at the library, and the chapter ends with Az thinking of Gwyn smiling and something sparks in his chest…it brings a smile to his own face.

She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.  Something sparked in Ariel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason . .. he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

And that last sentence: a thing of secret lovely beauty…that was used before when describing the necklace that he gifted to Elain but she ended up returning.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

The way this chapter flows, the way we compare these moments of him with Elain and him with Gwyn; the way we see how his emotions change…t’s so fucking important.  And I truly feel like this bonus chapter is just screaming to us that E/riel is done and Gwynriel is endgame.  

The chapter starts with Elain and ends with Gwyn.

(I did a three part series of my thoughts and analysis of the Azriel bonus chapter and this post is a summary of part 3! Shameless link for some shameless promo lmao)

[south-park-polls]

South Park Song Tournament!

[also check out @votemattrey’s South Park 25th anniversary concert tournament on their blog!! <3]

I am aware the creators made an official song tournament, but i didn’t hear about it until after it was already over so I have decided to make one of my own!

This is very self-indulgent and there are a lot of south park songs to think of, especially if you include covers (which i have decided to do) so I am likely very biased in which songs i have chosen.

I have narrowed it down to 128 songs to start to give an easy number for a tournament, but if I haven’t included your favourite song feel free let me know in the notes, reblogs or tags and I will make sure to add it to the list.

Please don’t worry about whether requesting songs will interfere with the tournament numbers! I have plans to give second chances to the closest losers to ensure that there is never an odd number of songs going into the next round :)

The songs I have decided to put in the tournament are as follows:

South Park Theme Song

I'm Gonna Make Love to You, Woman - Cartman Gets an Anal Probe

Hot Lava - Volcano

Love Gravy - An Elephant Makes Love to a Pig

Make Love, Even When I'm Dead - Pinkeye

The Lonely Jew on Christmas - Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo

Waitin' On a Woman - Cartman's Mom is a Dirty Slut

Simultaneous - Summer Sucks

Chocolate Salty Balls - Chef's Chocolate Salty Balls

Cheesy Poofs Theme Song - Roger Ebert Should Lay Off the Fatty Foods

Underpants Gnomes Work Song - Gnomes

Getting Gay With Kids - Rainforest Schmainforest

I Hate You Guys - Jakovasaurs

Sexual Harassment Panda - Sexual Harassment Panda

Shelly, Shelly - Cat Orgy

Turds! - Cat Orgy

Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

Carol of the Bells - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

Christmas Medley - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

O Tannenbaum - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

Christmas Time in Hell - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

I Saw Three Ships - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

Merry Fucking Christmas - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

O Holy Night - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Mr Hankey's Christmas Classics

Timmy and the Lords of the Underworld - Timmy 2000

Fingerbang - Something You Can Do With Your Finger

Wendy's Audition Song - Something You Can Do With Your Finger

Third Grade Memories - Fourth Grade

The Prostitute Song - Fat Camp

Circle of Poo - A Very Crappy Christmas

Why Can't I Be Like All the Other Kids - Here Comes the Neighbourhood

It's Butters! - Butters' Very Own Episode

Montage - Asspen

Sea People and Me - The Simpsons Already Did It

The Ballad of Lemmiwinks - The Death Camp of Tolerance

My Future Self n Me - My Future Self n Me

Poo-Choo Train - Red Sleigh Down

Bleeding Heart Rock Protest Song vs. Pro War Country Song - I'm a Little Bit Country

Make a Run for the Border - Fat Butt and Pancake Head

Taco Flavoured Kisses - Fat Butt and Pancake Head

Jesus Baby - Christian Rock Hard

Faith + 1 Album - Christian Rock Hard

Casa Bonita - Casa Bonita

Joseph Smith Was Called a Prophet - All About Mormon

Cigarettes All Hidey Lidey Day - Butt Out

Follow the Only Road - It's Christmas in Canada

French Canada - It's Christmas in Canada

Let's Fighting Love - Good Times with Weapons

My Robot Friend - AWESOM-O

My Wishing Tree - The Jeffersons

The Future Begins With You and Me - Goobacks

Vote or Die! - Douche and Turd

I've Got Some Apples - Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset

Christmas Time is Once a Year - Woodland Critter Christmas

Make It Right - The Death of Eric Cartman

Love Lost Long Ago - Follow That Egg!

We Can Live Together - Ginger Kids

Trapped in the Closet - Trapped in the Closet

Hey People, You Gotta Drive Hybrids Already - Smug Alert!

Who's Got the Greatest Mom In The World? - Tsst

Dawg's Crew Theme Song - Miss Teacher Bangs a Boy

Hippitus Hoppitus - Fantastic Easter Special

California Loves the Homeless - Night of the Living Homeless

I've Got a Golden Ticket - Le Petit Tourette

Imagination Song - Imaginationland

Canada on Strike - Canada on Strike

My Internet Done Up and Went Away - Over Logging

Super Fun Time - Super Fun Time

You Gotta Do What You Wanna Do - Elementary School Musical

Burn Down Hot Topic - The Ungroundable

I've Got a Ring on My Finger - The Ring

Queef Free - Eat, Pray, Queef

Gay Fish - Fishsticks

Somalian Pirates We - Fatbeard

Poker Face - Whale Whores

Minorities at my Water Park - Pee

Lake Tardicaca Hula Gal - Crippled Summer

You and Cthulhu - Mysterion Rises

Cafeteria Fraiche - Crème Fraiche

Vunter Slaush Kapushkuh - Crack Baby Athletic Association

Work Mexican Work - The Last of the Meheecans

Lemmiwinks vs Wikileaks - Bass to Mouth

Put That Heart to Work - Broadway Bro Down

Out of My Shell - Broadway Bro Down

I'm Not the Poorest Kid in School - The Poor Kid

The Jewelry Polka - Cash For Gold

Make Bullying Kill Itself - Butterballs

Jackin' it in San Diego - Butterballs

I Swear - Cartman Finds Love

The Ballad of James Cameron - Raising the Bar

It's a Beautiful Day - World War Zimmerman

A Chorus of Wieners - A Song of Ass and Fire

Princess Kenny Theme - A Song of Ass and Fire

My Bitch Ain't No Hobbit - The Hobbit

Push (Feeling Good on a Wednesday) - The Cissy

The Tale of Craig's Mom's Bush - The Magic Bush

PC Chant - Stunning and Brave

Where Has My Country Gone - Where My Country Gone

The Yelper Special (Boogers and Cum) - You're Not Yelping

In My Safe Space - Safe Space

The Ballad of Tweek and Craig - Tweek x Craig

Let's Come Together As a School - Douche and a Danish

Give Life A Try - Put It Down

Put It Down - Put It Down

They Got Me Locked Up In Here - Hummels & Heroin

Barbershop Quartet - Hummels & Heroin

A Witch Pursuit Thing - Sons A Witches

Faith In Christ - A Boy And A Priest

Unfulfilled - Unfulfilled

Colorado Town - Bike Parade

Go Strong Woman, Go - Board Girls

I Love You Social Distancing - The Pandemic Special

Mountain Town - South Park: Biggger, Longer & Uncut

Uncle Fucka - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

It's Easy Mmkay - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

Blame Canada - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

Kyle's Mom's a Bitch - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

What Would Brian Boitano Do - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

Up There - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

La Resistance - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

I Can Change - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

I'm Super - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

Mountain Town (Reprise) - South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut

We Are Living in the Future - South Park: Post Covid: The Return of Covid

We Missed You Randy - South Park: The Streaming Wars

I Got Cred, Bitches - South Park (Not Suitable For Children)

Hope you all enjoy the tournament and may the best south park song win!

[neohart]

“We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do”

Tags: Swearing, Bad Cowboy Lingo (as always), Slight (very slight) Implied/Referenced Religious Trauma (oh yeah)

Made for: @crispbeigepages

Enjoy more gay cowboys!!!

Lewis cleaned up the church, the sound of his broom sweeping against the wooden floor sounded out throughout the small building. Besides that, the old pastor sat in his office organizing papers and reading letters sent by the townsfolk. It was a completely normal day, if he had to say so.

It wasn’t until the sound of boots running towards the church doors that Lewis was brought out of his bored trance. As soon as the doors slammed open, a ginger man with toasted brown skin entered and panted heavily.

“P-Pardon me, pal! May I ask where the pastor is?”

Oh… That voice was unique.

Lewis simply pointed towards the office, watching as the other man nodded and walked up to the office. This man had to be new, Lewis knew everyone in town and this man wasn’t one of them. But, he wasn’t bad new, quite the opposite. He was tall, muscular, and his eyes were pretty-

No! Snap out of it Lewis. You shouldn’t think of a man that way, no matter how gorgeous he may seem. It was bad enough that the old pastor already thought of him odd for being ‘not a real man’ in his eyes. So it’s be worse if he fell in love with another man.

So, Lewis just continued to sweep, ignoring the talking between the pastor and the ginger as the minutes continued to tick down to nightfall.

—

It’s been a few days since Lewis saw that ginger and all seemed to be going well. He settled back into the routine of cleaning the church, keeping the graveyard tidy, and assisting the pastor with confessions and prayers. The only thing that seemed to deter that all was the fact that the undertaker couldn’t seem to get the man from a few days ago out of his head.

What was his name? Would he see him more often or was his visit to the church a one time thing? Would he ever get the chance to speak with him again?

All these questions plagued his mind as he, once again, found himself sweeping the church. It was a usual activity that Lewis found himself doing after service hours. He’d get up in the morning, prepare the church for Sunday Service, partake in said service, wish everyone a good evening, and then finally sweep the church of any dust and dirt.

It was normal and it was his escape.

However, today the pastor wasn’t there. He’d left early due to a family emergency so Lewis was left alone. No papers shuffling, no pacing of footsteps. Just him and the quiet. The setting sun shone through the windows as Lewis looked up at the stained glass window that depicted God. It hung over the altar like a framed photograph, reminding everyone who they worshipped.

Lewis frowned as he set the broom to the side, approaching the altar. He’d clasp his hands together and close his eyes, a silent prayer leaving his lips. As always, he asked for forgiveness from his thoughts. A mind that must be dealt with accordingly.

“Those sum purdy words there, pardner.”

Lewis flinched, turning around to be met with the ginger. He’d place a hand to his chest. “Ah… Thanks? The pastor ain’t here now so is there sumthin’ I can help ya with?”

“There ain’t” The man approached until he stood beside Lewis. “Just came to see the purdy blond boy who seems to be so hardworking for his duty.”

Lewis blinked, staring at the other. “P-Purdy?” He felt his cheeks heat up. Never had he ever been called pretty before, especially not by a man.

“Course. Yer tall, got a neat eye, and you seemed dedicated when I first saw ya… I’m Warren, by tha way. Warren Glass.” Warren stuck out his hand, giving a big grin.

“Lewis. Lewis Crawford. ‘S nice to meet ya, Warren.”

“Likewise, pardner. So, what’ca doin’ here this late? It’s near ‘leven.”

Was it? Lewis must’ve been so lost in thought that he didn’t keep track of time. “I didn’t realize. Was too busy, I guess.”

Warren hummed, rocking on his feet. “I have a proposal for ya. Let me take ya to the castle, y’know, that big one on the hill.”

Lewis tilted his head, staring at Warren. “Why?”

“Eh, why not? ‘Sides, you look like ya could use a break, no?”

“I guess��”

“Great! See ya there, sugar!”

“Wait, but I didn’t—“

And he was gone. All Lewis could think in that moment: What a strange man.

[twosides--samecoin]

oc interview tag

long tag, made me feel short winded for once! this was a lot of fun though. featuring a fourth wall break

also how fuckin' wack that I went into fic with journalism skills trying to figure out my first fic/creative writing only to go do a writer tag that's an interview. Also it was weird writing this in present tense

as tagged by @some27-url bilbo taggins: @anonymouscosmos @vault-heck @incognito-insomniac @edaworks

Name?

"Olivia Iosepha Dallaire."

Are you single?

"I'm not answering relationship questions."

Are you happy?

Olivia shrugs and focuses on giving Dogmeat a belly rub.

Are you angry?

Her brow furrows a little and she nods as her hands knead his fur.

Are your parents still married?

"They never divorced."

Birth place?

"Vault 150, located in [NDA VIOLATION]."

Hair color?

"Ginger."

Eye color?

"Blue."

Birthday?

"May 7."

Mood?

"Truthfully, I'm scared because I agreed to move to Boston and I feel like I should never have flown here, but I have a job to do. I miss the way my life was before things went bad at the vault. I miss my dad and my friends. I'm surrounded by people now, but I feel more alone than I was before Jack and RJ picked me up. I knew the forests and mountains back home; Boston is way more dangerous, and I don't know this place at all. Dogmeat makes me feel better - without him I'd be crying all day."

Gender?

"She/they."

Summer or winter?

"I miss both summer and winter back home. It's fall in Boston. I don't know what summer or winter are like here."

Morning or afternoon?

"I miss mornings at home on the lake. Sanctuary has a lake but it's not the same."

=EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE=

Are you in love?

«Je ne comprends pas.»

Do you believe in love at first sight?

"I believe I need to get away from this conversation."

Who ended your last relationship?

Olivia is rubbing Dogmeat's fur instead of humouring the question.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

Dogmeat's ears are flattening against his head. We're all under an NDA for that kind of thing, you know. It's not personal. Well, actually, it's very personal, and that's the problem. Lady tells me tons of secrets, but it's different with humans. Jack said she had a hard time saying much at all to him and RJ. I'm sure she'll come around to the tough questions - for now we're getting her settled in.

Are you afraid of commitments?

Olivia is nuzzling into Dogmeat's neck instead of answering.

Jack walks over from the kitchen and answers the question in her stead. "We're just taking it one minute at a time."

Have you hugged someone within the last week?

"Only my Puppy." She kisses Dogmeat on the cheek and he groans at the name. "And Jack," she says as he places his arm around her shoulders for a squeeze.

Have you ever had a secret admirer?

"I hope not."

"Had fans when I was a pro boxer. Before the bombs fell, before I got fridged. It was weird."

Have you ever broken your own heart?

"Why would I do that on purpose?"

Jack looks out the window. He never ends up answering.

=SIX CHOICES=

Love or lust?

"Both exist, I think," is Jack's take. He looks to Olivia and she gives him a shrug with a nod that said Sure.

Lemonade or iced tea?

Olivia has no idea what these things are. She has a hard time conceptualizing how lemonade tastes; the words tart, sour, lemony, acidic don't mean much to her. Jack tells her she would probably prefer sweet tea. He explains these new drink concepts and makes a note to find a way to make sweet tea, since lemonade was out of the question in the post-apocalypse.

Cats or dogs?

Dogmeat looks at Olivia. She looks him dead in the eye. "Cats."

He whines at the mention. Oh don't say that-

"I'm joking," she says, giving him another big hug.

Jack chuckles at them. "I'd say we're a dog family,"

"I like all animals, though!"

A few best friends or many regular friends?

"Just Dogmeat."

"We keep it close."

Wild night out or romantic night in?

"Why not both?"

Olivia nods in agreement.

Day or night?

"Night. Especially now that it's getting colder. I've been installing wood stoves in Sanctuary and we'll have a comfortable winter this year."

=FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS=

Been caught sneaking out?

Jack chuckles. "Sure. Who hasn't?"

Fallen down/up the stairs?

Jack shrugs. "Who hasn't?"

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt?

Jack turns his attention to rubbing Dogmeat's ear.

N-D-Fucking-A. You can keep trying, we're not gonna bite. Well. I could be convinced.

Wanted to disappear?

"I don't want; instead, I do," says Olivia. She demonstrates with a Stealth Boy.

Jack sounds crestfallen. "Oh, no.. Miss Olivia, don't do that.."

=FOUR PREFERENCES=

Smile or eyes?

Neither Jack or Olivia can decide.

Shorter or taller?

They both shrug.

Intelligence or attraction?

"Those aren't opposites," says Olivia.

Hook-up or relationship?

"Why put a cap on it? It doesn't have to be everything or anything at all."

=FAMILY=

Do you and your family get along?

"Well.." says Jack. "Y'know, things are looking up, I'd say."

Would you say you have a “messed up life”?

Olivia and Jack look at each other and smile. "Who doesn't?" they ask simultaneously. They break out into giggles.

Have you ever run away from home?

"I suppose I just did," said Olivia.

"Naw," said Jack. "I kidnapped you."

"I chose to move here."

"Exactly," he said. "It was your choice to move to Boston."

Her jaw dropped.

"Got 'em," he told her with a wink.

Have you ever gotten kicked out?

"No," said Jack. "Have you..?"

Olivia shakes her head.

=FRIENDS=

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

"I don't do two-faced shit like that," says Olivia.

Do you consider all of your friends good friends?

"Well, personally, my only friends are good friends," says Jack. "I only have close friends. If we don't trust, we're not friends."

Olivia nods in agreement.

Who is your best friend?

Both are focusing a lot more on Dogmeat. Jack answers the question by tilting his head towards Olivia and Dogmeat.

Who knows everything about you?

The person who made us sign the NDA agreements.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Sicktember alternate prompt

Stay. John and any other character of your choice.

Coveted

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, John

All he needs is his brother. @sicktember prompt Alt4: Stay

This one started off well then decided to fight me from about halfway through to the end... As for who the other character is - well, there's never enough Scott&John out there :P

Sicktember 2021 Prompts - I only plan on writing prompts if I get a request for them, so request away :D Doesn’t have to be TAG - characters from any fandom can be requested (although I can only guarantee I’ll work with ones I know)

There were pros and cons of John’s continued space residence. The most important of those pros, in Scott’s opinion, was the fact that John was happy there – happier than he ever seemed to be down on Earth nowadays. The other notable one was of course the benefit it gave to International Rescue. The cons consisted of the fact that it meant Scott didn’t get to see him in the flesh much – holograms weren’t the same, no matter how often John was on the wire – and, well. This.

Bundled up under a comforter decorated with planets and stars – not accurate in the slightest, both John and Alan complained, as though that had any impact on whether or not they liked it; Scott was well aware it was John’s favourite – and highly disgruntled, John was shivering. His temperature wasn’t dangerously high, but it still technically qualified as a fever, and the astronaut was not pleased about that in the slightest.

Scott couldn’t say he was happy about his brother being ill, but he would take the positives where he could find them. John’s immune system had taken a brutal hit through his space habitation, both leaving him vulnerable to just about anything that passed in his vague vicinity and more or less guaranteeing that whatever he caught, he caught hard.

Shivering with a slight fever, snotty and coughing sporadically, John seemed to have escaped reasonably mildly so far. He was still confined to bed, and banned from attempting any space monitor duties, but he was conscious and lucid.

And grumpy about the fact that he was ill again.

“I should never come down,” he muttered, not for the first time since ending up bedridden, voice ever so slightly raspy from the accompanying sore throat. “Live in space forever, no viruses to assault me there.”

Scott knew he didn’t mean it, but that didn’t stop the instinctive flash of terror at the idea of it happening.

Not that he was going to admit it. “Sure,” he said instead from his perch on the side of John’s bed. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want this cold to go away,” John sulked, seeming much less like the twenty-five year old he was and more like a teenager.  He rolled over onto his front, somewhat awkwardly considering part of the comforter was pinned beneath Scott.  “And I want to be doing something, not lying here being bored.”

“Tell me what book you want and I’ll fetch it,” Scott told him, shifting in place a little as his brother moved.  He was well aware that a book wasn’t what John was after, but if they all banned him from working when he was stuck in bed, he was going to get payback.

Whatever response John tried to make was interrupted by several yawns as his body clearly reminded him that he was ill and needed to sleep.

Scott chuckled lightly. “Looks like you need sleep rather than a book,” he commented. John grumbled at him. “Want me to read you a story?”

“Get lost,” John grumbled into his star-patterned pillow. The sheer childishness of the act compared to John’s usual calm and composed demeanour drew another chuckle from Scott.

“Love you, too,” he replied, eyeing John as the ginger yawned again. “Looks like you’re about to sleep,” he added. “I’ll leave you to it.” There was no point sitting bedside vigil when John was doing pretty fine, cold aside. John would only complain that he was wasting his time and someone needed to be covering his role in IR, anyway.

He slid off the bed, surveying the bookshelves to decide which books he should retrieve to leave in arm’s reach for when John was awake enough to read, and found himself caught up short when long, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and yanked him to a stop.

John was still lying on his stomach, but his head was turned to the side, leaving twin turquoise eyes regarding him with something that looked a lot like hope.

“Stay?” his brother asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Scott could never ignore a request from a brother, much else an ill one – or one that barely ever asked for anything. He sat back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard. “Sure,” he agreed. John was no doubt going to fall asleep sooner rather than later, but if he wanted Scott to stay while he did, then he was all too happy to oblige. “Sure you don’t want that bedtime story?”

John grumbled at him incoherently, not that Scott needed words to know it was supposed to be something along the lines of that’s not what I asked for and you know it.

“Fine,” he smiled. “No story.”

John didn’t say anything more out loud, but he shifted slightly before turquoise eyes started to drift shut. Scott obediently sat in silence as they did so, illness-caused exhaustion dragging John back into the land of nod for what was likely to be another few hours, based on past experience.

The fingers were still wrapped around his wrist. John hadn’t released him, and seemed to have no intention of doing so, either. The touch wasn’t particularly strong or firm, but that mirrored his brother’s condition.

To Scott, however, what made the ring of fingers around his wrist so special was that they were physical contact. John wasn’t a big fan of hugs – or sharing his personal space in general – and never really had been, making this particular request for Scott to stay a very rare, precious, occurrence.

Scott certainly wasn’t going to be pulling away first, no matter how long it lasted.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Trust: Jake

CW: References to violence, beating, blood, noncon/dubcon, domestic abuse, child abuse, and all the other gross that goes along with the Box Boy universe

The final installment of this mini-narrative I’ve been working on where Jake and Chris took over my brain. I’m going to take a writing break for a couple of days and hopefully will start posting again on Monday! See my other BBU writings here.

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump

This piece features @deluxewhump‘s Alex, from her Frathouse Box Boy series - highly recommended reading! Alex is used with permission.

His fucking mugshot is all over the place.

Jake only barely remembers that part - it’d been on the second day, maybe, after he’d already been beaten and shocked and awake for nearly twenty-four hours. He has a vague knowledge of standing in front of lights, the sound of a camera, being made to turn. That knowledge comes alongside the memory of a pounding in his head, his knee, of zip-tied wrists dripping blood on the floor while the two men in front of him joked about something on TV the past weekend.

He’d forgotten it as soon as it was over - there were worse things going on in his life than having a photo taken of his black eye and busted-up face - but when he came back to school two weeks later, Jake discovered that just about everyone he spoke to had seen his mugshot on the local news website, with Public Intoxication, Criminal Assault, and Resisting Arrest listed as his charges.

It doesn’t matter that only one of those charges is real. It doesn’t matter that it’s not going to stick, and Nat has already told him that the lawyer who works with the safehouse pro bono is fairly certain they’ll drop the charge since no one can prove Jake resisted anything and the ‘cop’ in question is nowhere to be found.

It doesn’t matter, not any of it, because by the time all of that goes away - by the time he’s healed up enough to go back to class, and Chris has stopped panicking at the idea of him leaving the house, Jake is already known as the guy who got arrested for a drunk barfight after punching a cop.

He doesn’t bother telling anyone what actually happened. He doesn’t care enough about any of these people to try and change their minds about him. 

He doesn’t know who he can trust with the knowledge, either. No matter that the guys had given he and Nat two different stories on how they’d been found out, and it’s possible neither one is totally true, Jake is pretty sure it had to be someone on campus.

He goes early on Tuesday, feeling like shit but kind of wanting a break from Chris’s nervous clinging, just… just for a while. He’s done more comforting and caring for Chris than taking care of himself, and it feels good to be back home - and it is home, isn’t it? At some point it became his real home - but he could use the space to just breathe, and feel sorry for himself.

He hasn't spoken to Addie since the night before the raid. Just texted after he got back to let her know an emergency had come up and they'd talk again when he could. 

It’s not fair to her, but on the list of things that changed right before he got turned in… meeting Addie is the only big one. 

The idea that he got turned in by his fucking girlfriend seems so fucked-up and cliché and weirdly old-fashioned, somehow, that he refuses to think too hard about it. But… if it was her… if she would have sent Chris back to that motherfucker… he has to know.

He’s staring off into space over a cappuccino in the student center coffee shop when movement in front of him catches his eye.

“Um. Hey.”

Jake takes a deep breath at the familiar voice, raising his eyes to see… the frat guy. Alex Something-Something. The one that came and asked him about ways to get a Box Boy to pass because he wanted to take his frat’s human mascot or whatever out in public without people knowing what he was. 

The guy looks half-awake, a coffee in one hand and the other resting on the strap of the backpack hanging off one shoulder, wearing a big hooded pullover with his frat’s symbol on the front and blue jeans. 

Jake stares up at him, and thinks, you fucking bought one. A bit of anger twists in his chest, but Jake’s too fucking tired to hold onto it. His frat had bought a person, sure, but he couldn’t stay mad at someone who had really been trying to learn. Jake had messages on his phone from some friends who said there was a frat guy kind of nosing around for more info while he was gone, maybe going to join the movement.

It wasn’t fair to judge him by what he’d allowed to happen if he was going to try and do something about it now. What matters is that you leave, he reminds himself, thinking of his mother and Nat and the conversations he’s had, again and again, with people who had to fight between standing still and putting themselves at risk, even in small ways. What matters is that you choose, once or twice or four times or however many times it takes, not to watch it happen again.

He couldn’t hold on to anger when he saw the signs of someone wanting to change. He was too exhausted, carrying too great a weight on his own, and too scared that his one attempt to open up and meet someone had resulted in putting the lives of Antoni and Leila and Chris at risk.

He’d been the one having nightmares, the house turned upside down again and Chris dragged into the middle of the living room, a knee jammed in his back, screaming and screaming for help that Jake couldn’t give because his fucking girlfriend held him down. 

If it had been Addie all along, Jake would never date again. He honestly feels like the stupidest asshole on earth for having taken the risk at all. He needs to call her again, he needs to set up a meeting or some kind of dinner date or something. He needs to tell her that he’s scared.

Instead, he’s here way too early on a Tuesday morning, trying to figure out how scared he gets before he’s brave enough to take the risk of letting someone new in.

“Hey,” He says, buying himself a little time to think by taking a sip from his cappuccino, ruining the little heart the barista had drawn into the foam. “You’re on campus early. No house party last night?”

The guy gives him a weird look - like he’s looking for the insult and isn’t sure if he’s found it or not. “Last night was Monday.”

“Since when does that stop a frat house?”

There’s a pause, and the guy quirks kind of a half-sided smile, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. Some of the other guys had a couple people over to play COD, so I guess technically you’re right. Don’t be a dick about it, though, okay?”

“Sorry,” Jake says, and honestly, he kind of means it. This Alex guy’s pretty nice, and the longer he’s thought about it the more Jake is certain that he definitely isn’t the one who turned them in. Even if he’d been kind of complacent in stuff, he just… isn’t that kind of person. Jake can tell, deep in himself, that he’s not. “Sorry. I’m kind of an asshole, I probably should have warned you.”

“You, uh. You did, Jake.”

Jake raises his eyebrows, surprised the frat guy remembered his name at all. ���I did?”

“Yeah, like… the first time we ever spoke, man. It was maybe the third thing you even said to me, that you’re an asshole about, uh… the stuff. You know. That we talked about.”

“Oh.” Jake clears his throat. His voice was back to normal - the first week it’d been hoarse, the screaming had turned the inside of his throat into raw meat, barely able to swallow the warm tea that Antoni brewed in massive amounts with plenty of honey. He’d made soup with carrots and ginger and some kind of yogurt and Jake had had to insist Chris not try to feed him like his hands were broken, not just bruised. “Sorry. I’ve had, um. It’s been a weird couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I heard about that.”

Jake’s eyes narrow as the guy sits down in the chair across from him, sipping his coffee, gripping onto the cup nervously. “Did you?”

“Uh. Yeah. The, um… you know, someone I knew showed me… your, uh. We were talking about it in class last week.”

Jake closes his eyes, slowly. Even after two weeks of rest, it’s hard to open them again. “Of course you were.”

“I mean… man, it’s not every week someone who sits three rows down gets arrested for fighting cops.” 

“I wasn’t-” Jake cuts himself off, his hands tightening around the cappuccino. “Never mind.”

“Nah, man, I’m teasing you. Look, I was going to hit up the library before, um, before our Ethics class.” 

Jake snorts. One possibility - the handler had told him it was the Ethics in Political Philosophy professor who turned them in. Could be him. Could be the landscaping company guy down the street, like they’d told Nat. Could be Addie. Could be the fucking yoga instructor who smiled at Chris and complimented his fucking posture, could be-

He catches his thoughts before they can take off, drag him down into depression again.

“I’m about to go beg for mercy before that class,” Jake says, dryly, and watches Alex smile in response. “Since I missed, what, four classes. And he’s not exactly known for being nice about that shit. Can’t exactly say my grandma died when the whole fucking campus has seen my face all bashed up, huh?”

“Oh. Uh, well. You don’t… actually, that’s why I’m glad I saw you so early.” Alex sets his coffee down - he’s been sipping it steadily - and reaches over to unzip the backpack currently sitting at his feet, digging around inside of it. “I figured I’d catch you before class started, but this is better. Um.”

“Why? You want to help me beg?” 

It’s Alex’s turn to snort. “No thanks. I try not to ever look him in the eyes, let alone ask him for anything. No, I wanted to talk to you because… here.” He pulls out a stack of papers more than an inch thick and sets them on the little table between them.

Jake blinks, and looks down. “What is this? Is this the shit I gave you? You’re… giving it back?”

“Fuck, no. No way, man. I… no. I want to keep those. This is, uh, this is two weeks of notes.” Alex pats the top of the paper like a car salesman patting the hood of a car, grinning at him with  kind of absurd, sweet pride in his eyes. “I talked my adviser into printing me a list of your classes, found some people I knew in them, and, uh. Here we go. That’s notes for every single one of your classes for the past two weeks, plus copies of the assignments.” Alex pauses, then pats the pile of papers again. “Man, you are taking way too many classes.”

“Yeah, well. I have a lot of shit to do on all the other days, I kind of have to load them…” Jake leans forward, barely able to believe it as he picks up the stack and flips through it. Different handwriting and little encouraging notes in the margins, copied assignment papers. He just… keeps blinking at it. 

“Yeah, I, uh. I know. I talked to some people when, you know… when it came out about the, um. Your face.” Alex waves his hand around, as if emphasizing his own absolute lack of injury. 

“Who’d you talk to?” Jake is still staring at the notes, feeling and unfamiliar flutter of something like… like real gratitude. He tells himself to say thank you, and for just a second, the words stick in his throat.

It’s been Jake and Nat versus the world for so long, it’s hard to believe the world just expanded to include a whole new person he barely knows. 

“Some people. You know. That, uh. Know you. I… I know it wasn’t a barfight, Jake.”

Jake’s fingers grip tightly onto the papers, and he raises his eyes to meet Alex’s sincere expression of real concern. “You do?”

“Yeah. I, uh. I had no idea shit like that even happens now… we never heard anything on the news-”

“Yeah, and you won’t.” Jake thinks of the Governor standing in the corner, hidden behind glass and shadows, laughing as they hit Chris across the hands to stop him from tapping, hit him again and again and again, the awful soundtrack of his cries layered over the top of that fucking pervert’s laughter. He’s going to fucking kill that man one day.

“Uh, Alex, I just-... you didn’t have to do this, man, that’s… really cool of you. Thanks.” He has to force out the word, but he wants to, he wants to say it. He never expected this. 

He’s spent so much of his life insisting he doesn’t need charity, he doesn’t need help, and his mom will get on just fine, thanks. No, those bruises aren’t because of things at home. No, he doesn’t need to talk to the guidance counselor, no, no, no no no-... but here it’s just been done, the mercy, the kindness. None of that bullshit how are you? with the overly exaggerated concern and sadness. Alex just… helped. It throws Jake off-kilter, the same way learning how every single neighbor they had had come together to care for Chris while they were gone throws him off-kilter. “How’d you get everyone to take notes?”

Alex shrugs, drinking his coffee again, supremely pleased with himself. “I just asked, Jake. You can get a lot of stuff just by being nice to people, you know.”

What if we had told the neighbors what we were before the raid? Would they have helped us?

“I wouldn’t know. You just… asked? God, no wonder you’re Poli Sci. You’re gonna make a hell of a politician one day.”

Alex’s smile, if anything, widens. “Yeah, I hope so. Maybe I can do something about this shit, then.” At Jake’s surprised expression, he rolls his eyes. “I read your stuff, Jake. I read every single page. I’m kind of in it, now, sort of. It’s hard to know it and not, uh, think about it. So, can I ask-... your cousin, the one that you brought to class for a while-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes a chance. He takes a risk. He goes stepping voluntarily off a cliff, maybe taking Chris along with him. Somehow, though, he can’t stop himself. He’s tired of feeling alone when he’s here. He’s kind of just tired of feeling alone. “He’s a rescue.”

“Is he a… you know.” Alex’s face darkens, and he clears his throat, looking almost ashamed of himself just for saying the words. “A, uh. Where they… refurbish them? I wish I knew a better word for it.”

“There aren’t any better words for when they pull that shit on people. And… No. He’s not.”

“Oh, okay. Um. What, uh, what kind was he-... I was reading about the different, uh, kinds-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Alex nods, slowly, looks down at his coffee, looks back up. “Sorry. How old is he?”

Jake’s jaw tightens - not at Alex, but at the memory of the boy in the video, shaking and terrified, whimpering I’m eighteen to a room full of adults who all knew he wasn’t. “I don’t know.”

“He looks really young.”

“He is. I don’t know how young. Alex, if you… if you tell someone about this shit, about him, they’ll take him away and send him right back. You get it?”

“Yeah. I get it. Except… d’you mind if I tell, uh, my, um… our… my friend? That I talked to you about before? If it comes up that getting, uh, rescued is a, uh, a thing? That, that maybe… I don’t know, maybe he could… go home with somebody. Have a home, like that kid has with you.”

“The kid’s name is Chris,” Jake says, quietly. “He picked his name himself. There’s a couple more where we live. When they’re ready, they move out, and they start new lives. Chris, it’ll take him a while.” If ever. “Look, I, um, this was… was amazing, what you did, getting all those notes put together. I don’t know how to thank you for it, really, saying ‘thanks’ just feels like it doesn’t really cut it, you know?”

Alex nods, finishing his coffee up and setting the empty cup down on the table, decisively. “It’s no problem, man. I get it. I’m just, uh. I’m just glad everything worked out.”

Did it? Is that what happened?

“Me, too,” Jake says, aware of how heavy his voice sounds, how false the sentiment. “Look, I, uh, I can’t bring Chris on campus anymore. There’s a possibility we were… found out… because of that.” His voice catches in his throat, but Jake pushes down the guilt. He has time for that later. “So… you won’t see him anymore.”

Alex is silent, for a long moment. Then he says, almost hesitantly, “What about meetings?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What if I… go to meetings? Do the, um. The… you called them ‘rescues’? Do they go to meetings? If I go to them, if I start, uh, going to them… would I see any? Be able to talk to them? Or…”

“Yeah. Rescues go, sometimes. They give talks about their lives, and everything. Antoni - sorry, I have a, uh, there’s one I live with right now named Antoni - he’s given talks on his life as a Domestic before. I don’t know about Chris, though, he, um... Chris struggles with-”

Chris would go into dark corners with anyone who smiled and touched his face and I don’t always trust the very people who are risking themselves to help us. Not with him. Not when he’s so easy to hurt, and easier to convince that you didn’t.

“That’s okay,” Alex says quickly. “It was just. He seems like a cool kid, I saw you guys over at the yoga class a couple times.”

Finally, Jake’s smile is genuine and real. He thinks of the mussed-up strawberry blond hair spread across the pillow when he woke up this morning, Chris mumbling to himself and shifting into the warm spot Jake’s body had made when he got out of bed. One arm flinging out to search for human contact. How young and soft and sweet he looked, in that moment, like a kid ignoring his alarm clock.

He should be in high school right now.

“He is,” Jake says, gathering up the papers from Alex, finishing his cooled cappuccino in a few quick drinks, setting it back down empty. He sticks the papers in his own bag. “He’s fucking amazing, Alex. He’s been through so much-... they’re all… they’re all fucking amazing. Do you get that? They’ve survived so much bullshit and they come out the other side and they still want to figure it out and get better. They’re amazing.”

“Yeah,” Alex says, softly. There’s a weird look on his face, one Jake can’t quite read. “Yeah, you know… they are.”

“You want to meet Chris sometime,” Jake says, pushing his chair back and standing up, pulling his backpack on over his shoulders. “You let me know. I think… I think I’d let him talk to you. Just… don’t hug him too much.”

“Does he not like that?” Alex looks up at him without standing up yet. “Ours, um, my-... the guy that lives with us… he really likes being touched. And it seems like, when Chris was coming with you…”

“No, he likes it. But he wouldn’t-... he can’t tell what kind of affection is safe, yet.” It’s as close as Jake’s going to get to explaining what Chris has been through, at least here and now. He catches someone pointing at him out of the corner of his eye and sighs. 

“No, ours. Uh. Ours can’t either, exactly.” Anger flashes on Alex’s face, distant and thoughtful, and then he just shrugs. “Look, just. I hope those papers help you, man. From what Meghan said, your place was basically trash from top to bottom. I guess she talked to some people who talked to your, uh, your boss or whatever.”

Jake and Nat still haven’t talked, not really. Two weeks later and they’re still drifting past each other, tense and uncertain, each waiting for the other to be the first to bring it up. He feels his shoulder hunch slightly at the mention of her. “Yeah. It was. They left-... You know what, I don’t, um. I don’t want to talk about it. Yeah? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, man, that’s fine. Not a problem. But… if you need help again, will you, uh. Text me or something?” Alex takes a deep breath, meets Jake’s eyes, his jaw set and the open, friendly face set in an expression of stubborn determination. “I want… I want to help you.”

Alex, Jake realizes, is also walking off a cliff, hoping there’s something other than rocks at the bottom. He’s also taking a risk. He’s got his own future, and he probably never saw it including this.

“What are you, um, able to do?” Jake asks, and there’s more to his words than just the surface. A depth he knows Alex can hear. What are you willing to do?

Alex shrugs, standing up finally, giving him that bright handsome smile, politician-to-be through and through. Jake almost wants to shake his hand and the guy’s younger than he is. “Don’t know yet. But, hey, sometimes all you have to do is ask, right? Sometimes it’s just about, like, trusting people not to be utter shits for five seconds.” He moves past Jake, walking away, and calls over his shoulders, “Next time, Jake, trust me, okay? If you need help, just ask.”

He leaves, sliding out through the set of double-doors that leads in from outside, and Jake just stands there, watching him go.

Just ask.

Easy for him to say. 

Harder, so much harder, for Jake to do.

He picks up his phone, staring after Alex’s backpack until it disappears into the morning, until he turns a corner down the walkway, behind a stand of trees, and is gone. 

Jake hasn’t trusted anyone who isn’t a rescue since he was a little kid. No one has ever been someone he could rely on. It’s never, not once in his life, been safe to trust the people who told him to trust them. Right from the start, the people who were supposed to give him a solid foundation had been the quicksand dragging him down.

Jake dials a number and holds his phone up to his ear. After a second, Addie’s warm voice picks up, blurry with sleep. “Jake? Hey, I haven’t… you haven’t called me in a couple of weeks, are you-... what’s up? Did you get your emergency thing sorted?”

Jake swallows, hard. “Can I… can I meet you for lunch during my long break today? I have something to ask you.”

Was it you?

“Yeah… yeah, sure. I missed you, Jake.”

If it wasn’t, can I trust you to know? 

“I missed you, too, Addie. A lot happened, and I just-”

“Yeah, I saw the mugshot, it’s all over campus… are you okay?”

Can I trust you to protect the rescues?

“I’m fine. Now. But, uh. There’s kind of more to it than that… I’ll tell you at lunch. Vegetarian wraps at 1:30, that sound okay? I’m buying.”

There’s a pause, and a smile in Addie’s voice. “Of course it’s okay. I can’t wait to see you.”

Can I trust you to protect Chris?

Jake hangs up, heading out himself, to look over the notes before his first class starts. Alex’s words ringing in his ears, a weight against his back. He’s never going to forgive himself for letting a fucking frat guy be more self-aware than he is. 

If you need help, just ask. 

Trust people.

Ask.

[heyhilana]

Summary: This is prompt #14 with Whiskey. “Flirting with disaster?” WEAK catch me sucking it’s dick in a dirty bar bathroom after ten shots of tequila.

A/N: So i’ll be doing both of these! I like both of these prompts so much with these characters and this will also be my first take at writing something for catfish! They will be in separate posts so this way it’s not just all crammed into one post. If you want to request another prompt, here’s the link. I do hope that you like my take on lots of dialogue. I am usually a writer that is more detail-oriented rather than a writer that’s heavy on the dialogue but I wanted to try something new. Also, I made Tequila to be a bit of a jerk in here so I am sorry about that. :( I hope this is still appreciated all the same!

tagging: @agirllovespasta :)

You were wondering why you had come out to drink with your co-workers since the time you had left your place and locked the door. Staying in and sleeping in your bed earlier than most people would seemed to be like heaven for you instead of coming out and throwing back one too many drinks to erase the memories of this past week.

But the thought of seeing Jack at the bar, a place where all protocol for work could be thrown out the window for once was what made you crawl out of your bed. Sure, you guys could have just chosen to have a drink at Statesmen because the front was a distillery after all. But a bar seemed to be less stressful for you and your group of colleagues for a Friday night.

Before you knew it, you were talking up a storm with Jack, Tequila, and Ginger as the rounds of drinks came and went. As you kept drinking, you felt as though the stress that was weighing you down was lifting away for once. Tequila and Ginger we’re keeping the conversation going with their endless banter while you and Jack would only chime in every once in a while when the two of you felt that it was necessary.

Jack seemed to be the most relaxed and he was enjoying your presence. He laughed at your silly jokes that you would only come up with while you were intoxicated. Often enough, they made no sense to a person that was sober but for him, they were the funniest thing on Earth. He admired the funny nature that you had exhibited the day you two had met and he couldn’t be more elated to see it in action due to the effects of the alcohol that was coursing through your body.

Jack wouldn’t take his eyes off you no matter what it was that you were doing. He was thinking about how the dim lights in the bar were complimenting your skin so well, how it always captured the warmth that you had. He was taking sneak glances at your outfit, wondering how you could look so beautiful and literally just take his breath away. He was touching you a little more than friends should do. The casual touch on the arm that would linger longer than it should have, fingers grazing alongside one another by “accident.” It was somewhat aligned with Jack’s flirty nature but he wasn’t sure with how far he should go with this. He could only assume that you were enjoying this in some way, and he was right.

You would laugh at all of his mishaps that he had in his early Statemen days that you didn’t think a pro like him would’ve done. It was nice to know that even the best of agents were flawed in some way. The southern charm that he exhibited was making you smile harder than before because he always knew what to say to you.

And like Jack, you couldn’t help yourself with looking into his eyes a little longer than friends should do. They were the perfect shade of honey brown that complimented his locks of hair that were tucked away in that black Stetson hat of his that only he could pull off. You were eyeing his outfit as well, wondering how he could look so handsome without even trying. A classic denim jacket and  a beige button-up shirt paired with his famous tight jeans that you were sure no one else could wear. You were enjoying the “innocent” touches that Jack was giving you, almost leaning into his touch a few times without really thinking about it because why would you move away from something that felt so good?

It was all bordering a line of just friends and going over the edge but the alcohol that was coursing through both of your bodies seemed to throw all logic and reasoning out the window. And even though logic and reasoning was both you and Jack’s expertise due to the nature of your work, the small flame that turned into a full-fledged fire that was burning between the two of you was far more enticing to act on rather than do what was right.

“So, y/n, what did convince you to come out tonight?” Tequila shifted the conversation into your direction, and you weren’t sure as to how you should answer his question. Answering it along the lines of admitting that you only ditched your bed and snacks for Jack didn’t seem all that promising for you. But you had to answer because all their eyes were on you, and with knowing that Jack was eyeing you as he awaited your answer was enough to cause your nerves to skyrocket.

“Well, I figured that there was no harm in coming out for once. Sometimes we have to try something new every once and a while, right?” You had hoped that your answer was convincing, but Tequila didn’t buy it. Before he could object, Ginger cut in.

“Tequila, why don’t you and Jack get us some drinks? I think me and y/n could use another refill.” If you could’ve thanked Ginger for the rest of your life for saving your ass from Tequila’s never-ending questions you would do it no questions asked. Tequila eyed the two of you, but he said nothing. Jack was uncharacteristically quiet at this moment but he got up with Tequila to get more drinks. Once they were lost in the crowd, Ginger brought her eyes to you and you knew what was in store for you.

“Y/N, tell me something. How on Earth were you going to get yourself out of that?”

You rolled your eyes. “I had it under control.”

“I had it under control my ass,” The sarcasm was dripping in her tone as she rolled her eyes at you. “Why didn’t you just tell the truth?”

You sighed over her back-to-back questions. “You know why. I can’t just tell the whole table that I only came out because Jack was going to be here with him actually sitting at the table waiting for my answer.”

“Oh. So you can’t admit to the table why you came out here tonight, but you can sit here and continue with flirting with disaster?” Ginger caught you in a tight space and you were starting to wonder if it would’ve been easier to deal with Tequila’s questions over Ginger’s.

“I am not flirting with disaster. But if I was, you would’ve caught me sucking his dick in a dirty bar bathroom after ten shots of tequila.” You thought that you were in the clear as you knew that Ginger couldn’t come up with a better comeback but you knew you were wrong once you saw that Jack and Tequila had come back just in time to hear what it was that you had to say.

“Well I’ll be glad to hear that someone’s in the mood for the best drink that a person could have,” Tequila wasted no time in bragging over how his name in Statesmen was supposedly better than everyone else’s as he set down the drinks. “And who would that gentleman be?” He let a smirk grow on his face since he knew that you were getting closer to telling the truth that you were avoiding when he asked his first question. Jack was watching you meticulously as he went back to his seat. His heart was beating out of his chest because he knew that your answer would either be the one that he was waiting for or the one that he would hate to hear.

“A gentleman that you don’t need to know.” You replied curtly. You could see the smirk on Tequila’s face falter a bit and Jack was letting his fingers drum against the wood table. Ginger was quiet, not knowing what to say to help with the situation and partly intrigued by how you were going to get yourself out of this mess.

“It sounds like this is about a gentleman that I know very well,” It was almost like Tequila was egging you on so to speak, and you weren’t sure if you should take the bait.

“If you’re so sure about who it is, then why don’t you say his name?” You figured that you couldn’t lie your way out of this mess so playing this game with Tequila was your best shot. Jack was biting his lip, feeling the urge to jump in but resisting that urge to hear what it was that you had to say.

“Well I think that the gentleman in question should hear his name come out of your mouth instead.” Tequila was playing dirtier than usual, but you knew that you could do him one better if you wanted to save your skin.

“And what makes you so sure that the gentleman in question is here in this very moment?” You were treading in dangerous waters with Tequila. It was almost swallowing you whole, leaving you almost no room for air to keep yourself alive but you couldn’t stop now.

“I know that the gentleman in question is here just as I know what, or rather who brought you out here on this fine night.” It was your move in this game, and you weren’t sure if you had the upper hand anymore or if you ever did once Tequila asked you that first question. The tension between the four of you was thick, and it left you wondering if this was really just a night out for drinks that turned into something else or was this all an impromptu interrogation waiting to happen under the guise of after-work drinks.

“If you’re so sure of yourself, then how come you waited all this time to ask me that question?” You turned the tables onto Tequila in the hopes that the pressure would lay off on you a bit.

“I’m not the one in the hot seat avoiding all these questions, Y/N.” Tequila swiftly dodged your attack of sorts and you were hated where this was taking you.

“Why did you put me in the hot seat then? What’s it to you, Tequila?”

“Oh it’s nothing to me. But it is something to Jack over here,” Your eyes shifted over to Jack, and you could see that he was not happy with being brought in this debacle.

“Is this true, Jack?” It was one thing to take on Tequila and his ridiculous questions, but it was another thing to hear what Jack had to say about this whole situation considering how involved he was in it without speaking.

“Is it true that I’m the gentleman in question?” You felt your heart pounding out of your chest and your ears were ringing so loud. You couldn’t calm down no matter how hard you tried.

“What do you think?”

“I want to say yes but you have to be the one to answer the million-dollar question, sweetheart,” Jack’s voice didn’t falter in the slightest bit but he was sure that the rest of him was not as calm and collected as it normally was.

“Well,” You took a pause, trying to find the courage to say it out loud. “The answer is yes, Jack.” Tequila let out a drunken holler of some sorts while Jack let out a sigh of relief.

“Well can I ask you to dance with me, angel?” Jack looked to be in better spirits now that he knew that he wasn’t the only one feeling this chemistry with you.

“You may, cowboy.” You left Tequila and Ginger to their own devices as Jack took you to the dance floor.

You were so close to him, breathing in his scent of the multitude of alcohol that he drank and a hint of his cologne that seemed to make you weak at the knees. His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them slightly and he was sure that your soft, pliant skin was the one thing that he would want to feel for as long as he could.

“I have another question for you, darlin’.” Jack looked at you in a serious manner that made you question what else he had to know.

“What else do you want to know?”

“Did you really want to do that with me?” You were unsure as to what he had meant but then it all clicked.

“Oh…” You looked away from Jack, feeling the embarrassment set in about what you had said that set off that interrogation. “Well, I meant it as a joke and as a way to get Ginger off my back, but don’t all jokes have a little truth to them?” Jack raised his eyebrows at you once he caught on to what you were trying to say to him.

“Well as much as that excites me,” You looked at him again and laughed a bit at how he started off. “I want to take you on a real date that doesn’t seem like an interrogation or a sleazy hook-up.”

“I would love that, Jack.” You both smiled at each other, just enjoying the closeness between the two of you as you swayed to the beat of the song that was playing faintly in the background. Back at the table was Tequila slipping Ginger a $20, muttering under his breath about how this whole bet was rigged. Ginger laughed at the irritated site of Tequila and casually slipped the money in her bag.

“I swear you did something to y/n after Jack and I left. You and I both know that she was adamant about not spilling on her feelings for Jack.” Tequila was not letting up in the slightest bit over how Ginger played dirty to win.  

“Perhaps I just gave her a little encouragement. After all, it is something that you know about all too well considering how you give me a little encouragement to take on these bets,” That comeback was one that Tequila was not expecting as his eyes shot up at her. “Next time you want to make a bet with someone, be sure to take into consideration that they may use your own methods against you.”

[sweet-cynical-writer]

Thank you to everyone who waited patiently!!! The long overdue update is here for Soukoku's Love Child!

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Suicide, Gore, Death

Special thanks to @soukokuwu naturally for proofreading & of course continuing to be my partner for the series! ♡

Soukoku's Love Child - Nikkō's Past

The soft piano music carried on a reminiscent sound as Dazai walked into Lupin. As he settled into his seat, a certain ginger haired mafioso let out an exasperated sigh as if he'd been expecting company for quite some time. His partner was late as usual.

“What kept you this time, shitty Dazai?”

He took his drink in hand to take a sip before replying. And naturally it made Chuuya upset. A warning glare shot towards the barkeep who was only there to do his job and nothing more. Dazai didn't mind ;In fact for as long as he'd been coming to Lupin, he was always served without having to place a single order.

“I was visiting someone along the way. Turns out, they need my help.”

His partner opened his mouth to retort that there's no way he would assist in helping him but was cut off as if it were expected.

“Chuuya. I know you don't want me to get involved in anyone's problems. But this is a special case. And it will affect you as well.”

The way he released an audible, ‘Tch’ made Dazai smirk with amusement. It was his partner's way of saying, ‘go on and explain yourself fast before I rip your head off’.

“I'm glad you understand. Now. To put it bluntly, I found out more about this kid I ran into. We should adopt him. There's too much risk keeping him in that orphanage and if someone else comes along to grab him.. well let's just say it will only create more work for us.”

Chuuya was irritated at the idea of having a child to look after. He hardly would have patience for Dazai as troublesome and childish he could be. Taking care of a real child would be a nightmare.

“Now listen here, if you think that you could just make all the decisions here and I would just go along with it, you're dead wrong.”

Sure, Chuuya was aware that when it came to making life changing decisions that Dazai had a natural gift for choosing right every time. But that didn't mean the ginger had to mindlessly agree every time something like this occurred.

The way he cooly took his drink to his lips only made him more angry. That sly smile played on his lips like he could order the mafia executive around like some second hand maid.

“Look you bandaged bastard, I mean it. If we just ignore this child and we do end up with more work, so what? We could always use an alternative to helping the kid find a stable home rather than have us watch him.”

Even given their separate roles, it would be impossible for either of them to always have visual watch on the kid. Was he expecting the two of them to play hot potato taking care of him? And then there were always the possibilities of the kid wandering off. Chuuya shook his head after drinking from his glass.

"No, Dazai. There's too much maintenance to bother having this kid in our care. I say make him someone else's problem or just forget about it.”

He knew better than to doubt Dazai's intuition. As insufferable this man was, he never made a wrong call on a long term decision. Ultimately, that was part of the pros of dating such a man. Still, no matter how sharp Dazai was in taking the lead, Chuuya refused to cooperate. This time, Dazai was asking for too much on his part.

To be honest, the burnette anticipated a reaction like this from Chuuya. He didn't look surprised in the slightest as he watched his partner express the facial expression of a stubborn dog who didn't want to move an inch. Unless his owner was going to drag him along by the leash.

“You may be against it now, Chuuya. But when I tell you what kind of capabilities this child has, you'll change your mind.”

Dazai took another sip from his glass before setting it down with a soft clink against the glass coaster. His warm chocolate gaze filled with sorrow as he parted his lips to tell the story of a child that lost everything at once.

***

The child was only six when this took place. A meeting that was long overdue on a night when the air was bone chilling. It whispered desirable sins in the ears of two lovers that tore a bond that was at wit's end. There was only a matter of time that this would happen but the way it happened was something not fit for children. So it was only natural that they waited until their son was put to bed before they took action on leaving him behind.

Nothing was going to stop them from reaching what they both wanted most. The one thing in life that was irreversible that was both feared and wanted by man. It was something that their son wouldn't understand until long after they left.

“The only thing I hope for.. is that he won't hate us if he ever finds out.”

Her silky voice came out in a soft whisper. Sweet honey coated eyes staring back into that freshly cut emerald gaze of his. They were sharp and confident the way he reassured his wife with a gentle press of his lips to hers. The moonlight shone down on them like a spotlight. They danced against death for their whole lives. But tonight? Tonight they would dance toward it.

They had decided a while back; they’d do it here, near the river, under the bridge where it’s quiet, barren. It wasn’t too far from the house, but far enough so their child would be able to sleep through it. Doing it at their home would be too much, too troublesome.

Tonight was the last time they could breathe. The last time they would see each other. Their fate was sealed with the guns they both held in each other's hands. They intertwined arms with the barrels resting on their foreheads. With a silent exchange to one another, they released the trigger.

It was roughly 6:45 A.M. that the boy had woken up from his slumber. He was in a daze, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he rolled out of bed to search for his parents. Their bedroom being empty sent his heart into a panic. Where did they go? And without him? Frantically, he opened the front door to rush to the first place he thought of. The river. It was a favored area that Nikkō loved to spend his time skipping rocks.

There were even times when he would hide from his parents to play out here. It was an obvious spot to be found, but that didn't matter to him, he always wanted to be found easily. However, this time, Nikkō's parents were the ones easily found.

Two bodies, side by side and covered in red, tainting the usual clear blue gentleness which was the river. It no longer held the innocent and kind memories of his family. Instead, it haunted him as he stared wide eyed and unmoving like a statue.

He was snapped out of his blank state to the sound of an incomplete call made out to the caller ID labeled, ‘YASU’. The cell phone was found in his mother's hand. He broke down in uncontrollable sobbing. Nikkō was there, curled in between the decaying bodies of his parents. Crying hysterically with an erratic heartbeat that was visible to the naked eye. A man who possessed blond hair and kind eyes had shown up before to tame the child before police arrived.

It was decided from the note left behind that he would be put into the orphanage for the sake of not learning of his dark past. Out of fear that the child would possibly take things the wrong way or attempt to take his own life out of guilt. His parents did not want the chance of Nikkō ever finding out about losing his family. There was also the logical fear that someday, learning about his ability that he could use it to hurt everyone around him.

As long as he remained oblivious to his ability, he could live out a full life of happiness. If he remains in the orphanage, some loving family will pick him up and raise him to be a sweet child. There were too many risk factors to expose Nikkō to such sensitive information. All they could do was hope he would never have to go through the stress and strain that came with having an ability.

Including knowing about Yasu, he was left with no choice. His parents found it too risky that one day, the truth would slip out if they allowed Yasu to raise Nikkō. Their last request of their old friend was to take him to an orphanage. No further contact was allowed with him after he was dropped off. But Yasu loved Nikkō like his own. He kept his promise to take Nikkō to the orphanage, only to go against their wishes and keep in contact with the boy by exchanging gifts and letters with him as time passed.

The moment the orphanage learned about the child's ability to manipulate emotions upon physical contact, they had him separated from the rest of the children. He was considered a walking disaster that only wanted those to suffer with him. When in actuality, the child not only had no clue he possessed an ability, but he wished for someone to explain what he was feeling. He was confused and often became docile at the mention of any word similar to ‘family’.

He was often asked many questions referring to his past like what happened to his parents and if he knew why he was there at the orphanage. Nikkō couldn't answer with certainty, given that the disturbing image of two bloodied bodies seen at a tender age made his brain block out those memories. Something in him refused to let him access his past. Telling him to keep pushing forward and never look back.

Tags for notification: @suehiro @jounos-teashop-writing @aiya-chan03 @i-am-sleepy-as-heck @tapioka-boi @wildnya @chihxru @dazedbydazai @bandaged-writer @daffodildazaiwrites @orphic-osamu

[some-cookie-crumbz]

"Its three in the morning" with ochako

There was no other character/ ship tagged for this, so I went the route of Ochako and Tsu, since that ship bops and I just wrote another piece with them. If you had another specific character that you wanted to see this prompt filled with, anon, please feel free to drop another ask in my inbox letting me know who the other character you wanted was! This prompt is a good one that I’d be done to do again!

TW: Mention of Violence, Angst

"It's three in the morning," she whined as she answered the call, not bothering to check the caller ID. She'd been having a wonderful dream and looking forward to not being woken up early from it. It was supposed to be her day off, and she knew that being a Pro meant always being on call, but still.

For a moment there was complete silence on the other line, but then a small sniffle was barely caught by the speaker. "O-Ochako-Chan," the familiar voice hiccupped.

She was wide away and flying out of bed in a heartbeat. "Tsu-Chan? What's wrong? Where are you?" she asked, free hand groping at her bedside lamp to get it on.

"Hospital. I-It's Samidare," she pressed out, trying in vain to calm herself.

"I'm coming. Stay on the phone with me, Tsu, I'm here," she cooed as soothingly as she could. Forget getting dressed; she was going in her pajamas! She scrambled to the front door of her apartment, swiping her keys and wallet, before shoving on some shoes and tearing out of her place like a bat out of Hell.

She got an idea of what happened from her distressed friend as she made her way to her location, insisting they stay on the line until she was actually there. Samidare had taken a job working as an overnight stocker at a grocery store to help pay the bills for life at home and his college expenses. Some small time villains broke into the place while he and his co-workers were helping to bring in some palettes from the delivery. He'd gotten knocked around something fierce trying to protect his co-workers until a Pro or the police arrived. Even still, it sounded like half of the group had gotten away. And Samidare, well…

He was in surgery.

Tsu had stood strong when she reassured her parents and Satsuki, their younger sister, that he'd be fine. She'd encouraged them to go home and get some rest, promised to call them when she had news. They'd left just shy of two and she'd managed to last almost a full hour alone with no news before she couldn't take it.

She needed to call someone she could rely on, who she felt safe falling apart with.

The second Ochako darted past the sliding doors and into the waiting room proper, her eyes were sweeping for the slightly shorter girl. She spotted her across the room, shifting foot to foot in front of a chair, phone still pressed to her ear. Their eyes locked and she tossed her phone to the small table just in front of her. As she surged towards her, Ochako ended the call and held her arms open, embracing her immediately. "Oh, Tsu," she breathed out quietly, holding tight. She kept one arm around her waist while the other moved up to stroke her hair soothingly.

"I told him not to take this job!" she hiccupped, finally falling completely to pieces. She was a dead weight pressing against Ochako, but she didn't care one bit. Her fingers were curled tight in the front of the brunette's night shirt and her face burrowed into her shoulder. "I knew something like this would happen! I should have done more! I-I should have been there! To protect him!"

"No, Tsu, this isn't your fault," she shushed gently, carefully navigating them back towards the chairs. Tsu's always been so light that carrying her doesn't require even the slightest bit of Quirk usage on her part. The position is a bit awkward as she sets them each in a chair, bodies twisted at odd angles to maintain their closeness, but she makes it happen. While she made sure to maintain a soft, delicate approach in trying to comfort the other, her ginger eyes are blazing with terrifying ferocity.

She was going to find these villains and make them pay for daring to do this. And she was going to bring all of Class 1-A along to help.

[iwanthermidnightz]

I really didn’t do it justice. This documentary was made in 2017 so it’s more interesting and is a more in-depth and modern take on Katharines influence on style throughout the years. She was one of the first stars to wear pants at a time where women were getting arrested for ‘masquerading’ around as a man just for wearing them. This documentary isn’t about her sexuality although they hinted at it. It featured a whole lot of other secrets/stars/scenes from movies that have been influenced by her. I think you all will really enjoy this one. It’s on amazon prime! Tell me how you like it!

Six Sides of Katharine Hepburn

* In movies, everything you see represents a choice

* Something formative to the eye that is a choice? Style.

* A screen characters style can influence generations to come

* Sometimes it’s what you wear, and sometimes it’s where you wear it

* Which leads us to Katharine Hepburn

* We’re often reminded of her influence in the form of imitation

* Katharine was tough. Was she a tomboy? Or a debutante? A movie star or a style icon?

* She made pantsuits cool, but killed it in Valentino.

* Decade after decade, Katharine defied categorization (labels) on screen and off

* The history of fashion in cinema is rich and varied full of icons and contradictions

* One can explore it through time, or in terms of aesthetics

* Katharine was an icon because she embraced her contradictions, thats why it’s impossible to follow just one roadmap when tracing her influence on style and attitude of the generations that came after her

* PANTS.

* One thing a woman couldn’t do was wear pants on the Senate floor in 1993.

* In the 1930s when Katharine started wearing pants offscreen and one, pants were essentially a crime....

* Not a fashion crime, a crime where women could be arrested for ‘masquerading’ as men.

* Any respectable woman walking around in trousers was consider scandalous, but a movie star? That was unthinkable.

* Katharine epitomized the woman in pants here she was, the embodiment of the modern post suffrage woman who’s seeming not to give a damn as she startled a mans world in pants she could do a cartwheel in

* The world though, wasn’t sure it was ready for it

* After she signed with RKO, the studio tried to force her into a skirt by swiping her jeans from her dressing room while she was filming

* Hepburn then proceeded to stride around on set in her ‘knickers’ until her pants were given back

* We can place Katharine among the 1930’s stars like Greta Garbo, Marlene Dietrich and Ginger Rogers who danced in them frequently

* In 1940 Katharine made ‘Adam’s Rib’, one of the greatest romantic comedies of all time and pro-feminist classic

* Note the tag line- ’It’s the hilarious answer to who wears the pants’

* Through Katharine, pants became a symbol of female independence

* Eventually, they also became a fashion standard. By the 1960’s, a French designer was making jeans for women.

* “I wore pants when they were not fashionable. I sat down on a curb if I were tired, I did what I wanted and what I thought was reasonable so long as I didn’t hurt anyone.” - Katharine Hepburn

* In reality, her pants meant subversion, appropriation, and power.... all of which challenged our understanding of gender.

* Clothing designed for women has a history of being restrictive

* Even though Kate was known for her slacks, the way her characters got dressed up may have been even more subversive.

* Fancy clothes can reduce a woman to a trophy, it’s a symbol of wealth. They are as socially paralyzing as the are physically restrictive

* Kate defied her time... and by defying it she came to define it.

* When style becomes sensation, it’s usually because someone is breaking the rules.

* In 1951 when a hotel staff member told Katharine that slacks weren’t appropriate lobby attire, she used the staff entrance instead

* What did people mean when they called Kate sexless? Did they mean that she looked a bit like a guy? That she acted like a guy? That she was rigid, unbending and just didn’t yield the way a woman should? Or did they mean that she really just confused them?

* Society’s views on gender and identity gave certainly changed since then

* Now, it’s an open secret that Katharine swung both ways (I think she was gay), but even in her time, being queer was taboo

* Katharine helped blaze a trail for the eroticization of androgyny

* Hollywood had a handle on dudes looking like ladies long before it got around to girls looking like boys.

* When it was a woman doing the masquerading, it threatened the whole social fabric

* Kate embodied an idea that gender is what you make it

* Her outfits told you that she was in charge of the situation, of the movie, of herself

* Her feet on the table was a signature Kate (gay) move

* It has been an open secret of her decades long bearding relationship with Spencer Tracey. She lived in a cottage behind his house and had her ‘lady friends’ over frequently and vice versa

* The only public image she gave us was the one we saw in her films in her characters (sounds familiar)

[jawllines]

vamp harry vamp harry vamp harry but aLSO i saw an anon suggested a super cute update from the tattoo h fic where they get into a fight and yn doesn’t talk to him and h is all sad and pouty bc he just wants a cuddle now and realized he’s wrong and I NEED THAT now pls

YOU KNOW I ACTUALLY FORGOT TO POST THE WEDDING BLURB DIDN’T I? I WILL POST IT UNDER THE CUT

“Harry when’s the last time you went to a wedding?”

“1840.” Harry answered without a second thought, frowning down at the carrot he was chopping.

Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to that, no matter how many times he mentions the various years in which he was inhabiting a spot on the planet when Y/N’s grandparents weren’t even a glimmer in their own parent’s eyes. Understandably, this quick response caught her off guard, her brows dipping downward and a gaze overwrought with confusion as she wiggled herself in her spot on the counter, “Whose?”

“Queen Victoria and Prince Albert; I wore a beautiful tailored original flared frock coat -- reckon m’the one who brought it into style, everyone gives Albert the bloody credit -- and my date wore this gorgeous silk satin off the shoulder dress,” he takes a look to her, “Not a real date mind you, her father paid me a lump some of money to take her with me so she could get courted and sadly my little human wasn’t there to accompany me.” He runs his finger down the sides of the blade, swiping off any diced carrot that clung to it down to the cutting board, “Lovely reception, I stole a dance with her.”

Y/N grins, seeing him smiling fondly at the thought of it and she’s positively elated. She’d been rather nervous to bring a wedding up to him -- not because she wanted one herself, no, at least not right now. However, she got a costly parchment paper invitation to her friend Caroline from Sophomore year film studies (one of those where they were really close then, and they simply just fell out of touch apart from a spontaneous conversation every now and again) wedding. She figures because she’d been the person to set them up with limited help from Niall who was more concerned with the fact that he hadn’t lost his virginity at the time so “Why should I help someone else get their dick wet, huh?” But it had worked out well. She always liked their pictures together and felt a small glimmer of pride when she saw that they were still together since she was the matchmaker of the century.

“Welllllll, we were invited to a wedding! Minus the frock coats though,” he slides the carrots from the cutting board into a bowl so he could add it all together and mix it, “Plus, I haven’t gotten to get a new dress for anything in a long while and I’m kinda itching to spend money on something cute.”

Harry turns to face her, that permanent furrow planted deep in his brow, “I bloody hate weddings.” He stated plainly and Y/N’s face warps to match his own.

“What?” She nearly cries out, “But you just said --”

“There’s a reason the last wedding I went to was 1840, Little human.” He shakes his head, moving to chopped carrots to the broccoli, diced onions, ginger root, halved green beans, ginger root and garlic; he was making her a Ginger Veggie Stir-fry (he’s still very much pro-health considering the turmoil he puts her body through when he drinks from her, and she had a particularly shitty dinner of ordered in greasy, cheese pizza the night prior considering Harry had been working late and those are her only cheat days) and he was being quite diligent. It was the first time he was making it so it was probably a bad idea springing this on him while he was in his chef state of mind (because nothing matters as much as his dishes when he’s cooking). “The ceremonies are long and drawn out, the vows are contrived, you’re expected to stay for the reception and dance and eat the disgusting excuse for a mass produced dinner.” He shakes his head, the thought of it absurd in his mind, “Human weddings are meaningless; they divorce just as quick as they enter them most of the time. All that time and money wasted for what? A piece of paper? It’d made me irate before but now that I know what true love is with you, it only makes me angrier that they try to prove their love with that.”

Though his last statement had brought her cheeks warm and rendered her heart a bit mushy, she could feel herself deflate immensely. She couldn’t force him to an event that he didn’t want to attend -- he never made her accompany him to the two hour long meetings he was often stuck in, how could she make him come with her? It was long and albeit beautiful, the ceremony was rather boring, and the receptions could either be really fun or terrible, and the wedding cake -- god, you have to pray that they didn’t spend hundreds on something that tasted grocery store quality at best. But she hadn’t been to one in so long and there was some part of her that secretly loved them, even if she didn’t technically participate as anything but a face for the bridesmaid’s to look out at when they were trying to keep their mind off their cramping feet. She supposes that she could go with her friends or tag along with Niall and his date, but neither would be as fun as she thinks it would be with Harry, no matter his grumpy nature.

“Regardless of my distaste for them, I will attend with you,” he adds a few moments after his initial tirade and Y/N looks up, a new light in her step when she realizes he is looking at her, “I’m interested in how they have changed over time, and I don’t like when you look disheartened by something I’ve said. Wipe that sad little pout of your mouth my love.”

She sucks her bottom lip back into her mouth, biting down on a smile, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to though -- don’t want to force you into it.”

Harry pauses his cooking, walking towards where she sits on the counter and parting her legs for him to fit between, hands remaining on her thighs, “Would going to this wedding make you happy?” He inquires and when she nods, he strokes her skin with his thumbs, the metal of his rings coaxing goosebumps to the surface, “Then I will go. Little human, if you are happy, I am happy, however I do request you let me feed from the tender flesh of your thigh as my repayment for enduring such an interminable proclamation of human love. And that you do not make me dance.”

Y/N agrees to both happily, grinning wide and slipping her arms around his neck, peppering kisses onto his cheeks in rapid succession, “You can suck me dry through my thighs if you want to! And no dance floor shenanigans, promise.”

She had her fingers crossed around his head though -- she could get him on the dancefloor she bets.

Harry allows her kisses before puckering his own lips, and Y/N pushes their mouths together. It only lasts but a moment though, because Harry slips from her hold and pats on her thighs, “Now get off the counter, I need the space for the rest of the food.”

                                                     .                           .                          .

The day of the wedding, Y/N woke up at 7AM to an already showered and partially dressed Harry fixing up the buttons on his white blouse. Perhaps she was a bit melodramatic, since the wedding didn’t start until 10AM and they were maybe just a half hour away from the venue, but she scrambled from the bed. “Why didn’t you wake me?” She had cried out, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes and detangle from the cotton sheets spread over her bed, “We’re g’na be late!”

“You told me not to wake you until 7:05.” He had reminded her, “I woke early so that you would have ample space and time in the shower.”

She pauses on her way to the bathroom because she remembers this very distantly and the fact that he had woken earlier than needed to get ready himself, makes her reroute to where he stood in front of her mirror. Kissed him quickly, murmured a quick, “Thank you, love you,” as her apology for panicking, before she scattered to back to the bathroom. In a haste she showers, shaves, lotions up, washes her face, brushes her teeth, and does her hair in the course of forty minutes. She walks out of her bathroom to be met with Harry taking her dress from where it hung freshly pressed on the door (he’d insisted on it, even if it was just a floaty floral number), holding it until she could pull up a pair of underwear on and wrestle with a bra.

“Slow down,” he commands gently when she rushes to grab the dress from him, holding it just out of her reach, “We have plenty time, Little human, we’re not the ones getting married.”

Which -- well, that was true, she supposes. Something about having an event to go to makes her a little jittery, moving too quickly and rushing; it’s like homecoming and prom all over again, only this time she had a vampire boyfriend who was incredible at handling stressful moments, carefully helping her into her dress. He took a glittery necklace he’d bought her from her jewelry dish atop of her dresser, and slid it around her throat and clipped the two ends together. A vampire boyfriend who also sweetly reminded her to take her iron supplement because, “Tonight, m’getting between those thighs lovely.”

The drive was alright; there was some traffic and she’d been worried when she saw how backed up the highway had been, but they got there forty minutes before the ceremony and secured a spot near the front where Niall had saved them seats. Harry entertained her with stories of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, and also trying to act as human-like as he can when they have any sort of interaction with the people around them. Like when Y/N spots another old friend (Adaline) sat in front of them and they begin chatting, catching up some at where they were in life, and who the men sitting beside them were. She’d  made the comment, “What do you guys think of the venue? It’s lovely.”

Harry had answered unprompted, as he hadn’t really spoken much in their conversation other than, “It isn’t St. James Palace, but I suppose it’s fine. Hope she can stand up to the likes of Queen Victoria.”

Y/N’s eyes had widened, a dribble of panic slipping down her spine because she wasn’t ready to give the fake “he reads history books in his free time” explanation that he’d given Niall over Harry’s outlandish comments, but she doesn’t have to. Adaline only laughs, shaking her head and pointed her finger at Y/N, “Course you would find someone with the same sense of humor as you, lucky dog. Adam can never tell when m’joking or not.”

She has to pretend that she isn’t concerned that her joking sounds like Harry’s very serious tone but merely patted Harry’s thigh, giving it a loving squeeze, and when she looks to him he is smiling to himself. He rather enjoyed when people found him funny, and what he enjoyed even more, was Y/N trying to dig their way out of a ditch he’d begun digging them.

The ceremony was beautiful; Caroline looked stunning in her dress, a proper gown embellished with beading and lace appliques fitted to her torso and fanning out into the longest train Y/N doesn’t think she’s seen in real life before. Harry held her hand during the duration of it and swipes away the tear that had beaded to her eye when they began reading their vows and the groom got choked up. Even pulled her close to him, and despite his previous adversity to weddings, this one seemed to be getting him a bit mushy himself. She reckons if they hadn’t been in public, he would have purred for her as he’s so fond of doing when he’s feeling immense love for her.

Her reception was in the same building, so they only had to go a floor up to enter it. She met up with Niall and a few of their mutual friends, got to gush to Caroline about how beautiful the wedding was and how incredible she looked, and kept Harry at her side. He spoke when he was spoken to but otherwise he was quiet and when he’d ventured off to get them more champagne, Gina -- who also shared film studies with them -- leaned in, “He’s giving me strong Edward Cullen vibes, babe -- he moves, you move, silent probably broody type, definitely gorgeous,” she laughed as she continued, “Is he a vampire or something?”

Y/N’s blood ran cold when she forced a laugh, shaking her head letting a lie slip easily from her tongue, “No, no, just shy is all. He’s a bit of a writer so he likes observing people -- can characterize them better.”  

Niall snorts, taking a drink from his flute, “Shy until someone challenges his history knowledge, that’s for sure -- grade A smart lad has a damn book of information as a brain.”

Before they could say anymore, Harry reappeared with her drink, “They’re attacking the cake like vultures to a carcass, I think I may need to break an old woman’s finger to get a slice. Would you like one?”

She’d tricked him into dancing as well, locking their fingers and dragging him out to the floor in the middle, “You promised!” He protested but Y/N had already started moving side to side a little dramatically to get him to smile past his frown.

“Had my fingers crossed!” She let him know delightedly and after some coaxing and the whispered promise that she would throat him later (weddings made her all sorts of soppy and soft, which in turn made her an eensy bit greedy for Harry, and being greedy is simultaneous with cuddly and horny), she got him moving at least a little. She’d coached him through the Cha Cha Slide, had improvised a dance to Papa Loves Mambo, and serenaded him with a lovely rendition of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You. By the time the bride threw her bouquet (which Niall’s date had caught, Niall’s eyes widened comically, and Y/N decides then she’s going to tease his ass to shreds about it), Y/N was feeling the full effect of her champagne and Harry was gaining a contact high from her giddiness. Even the slow songs were nice, as Harry showed her how it’s done exactly (because she’d never been arsed to learn herself), and pulled out some moves that he remarked Queen Victoria would have blushed at (“Times were simpler then, my Love”).

The whole night was so enjoyable and fun and by the time that it was through, she doesn’t think either of them wanted to leave. “We should start crashing weddings,” Y/N had decided on their chilly walk back to the car around , just as Harry revealed a plate with another plate over the top of it that he’d been covering with his coat, “What’s that then?”

“I stole you cake,” he answered, taking off the top plate and showing the five slices that had been hidden, “You enjoyed it thoroughly and they were just going to throw it away but wouldn’t let me take the entire thing, so I took as many as would fit.”

Y/N might have never been more in love with him than she was in that moment.

On their way back, as they both cooled down from the excitement of the reception and Harry was navigating the post wedding traffic while Y/N nursed the stolen cakes in her hand, they were relatively quiet. Harry was worrying his lip between his teeth like he was thinking on something, and Y/N was too worn out to bother him about it until he opened up as she usually does. Though he told her soon enough, once they finally pulled off on the exit that would take them back home.

“I enjoyed that much more than I thought I would,” he told her truthfully and she smiled.

“Good.”

“I would enjoy if we had a big party,” he continued, and Y/N’s once drooping eyes shoot open, “Much like a wedding but without the ceremony, that was a bore. But a big party and we will invite many people and celebrate our love for one another. Would you be interested in that?”

Y/N’s soppy soft heart only gets soppier as she nods, reaching over so their hands locked where his rested on the middle console.

“I’d love that.”

                                      .                        .                     .

Once Harry and Y/N made it home, Y/N had taken what she believed to be a very well deserved nap in the passenger side, only waking to the gentle brush of his fingers to her cheek once they were parked, “Oh, sweet thing,” he’d hummed, “We’re home.” Harry was the best for waking people up, Y/N had decided long ago, because he’s nothing but sweet murmurs and soft caresses. When Niall woke her up in the mornings it was a plethora of pillow hitting and purported threats in the form of I swear to god, you little demon, I’ll write a love letter from you and give it to Professor Rollins. It was jarring and she was far undeserving of it (she only ever hit him will a pillow once and it was because he was already thirty minutes late) when she always wakes people up with careful shakes and promises of breakfast.

Harry is much sweeter towards her, coaxing her from her slumber with soft touches, peppered kisses against her cheek, murmuring pleasant words into her ear and nibbling at the lobe. It brings shivers down her spine and tickles goosebumps up her arms, to where she’s blinking her eyes open slow, adjusting to the light of the room and snuggling deeper into him. If it were a morning she had things to do, Harry would only appease her for a moment with back rubs and cuddles, “Wake up, little human,” he hummed sweetly, and when she replied she didn’t want to, he would assure her that as soon as she returned home they could nap together (which means Y/N will snore in his ear while Harry did whatever he did when she was sleeping and he wasn’t). If she had nothing to do, he would let her sleep in some but would tempt her with breakfast and smoothies.

So when she is reluctant to remove herself from the car, he’s as tender as he always is. Titters something she can’t quite make out before walking over to her side, reaching over to unbuckle her, before gathering her up in his arms. “Your species is such a sleep bunch,” he had commented, “Or maybe it's just my little human who is so tired?”

“Mhm,” she murmured, dipping her face into the column of his throat only then realising that he was carrying the cake plate with the hand of the arm tucked beneath her knees, “Still ready for you stuff me full of that big, thick —“ she begins to tease him but he cuts her off with a small pinch to her bum.

“Careful what you wish for, sweet thing,” he responded, not concerned in the slightest, “Haven’t been inside you for a while, might just split you in half.” He unlocks the door swiftly, twisting the knob and pushing it open, noticeably biting down on the inside of his lip when he feels Y/N shudder and nestle into him closer. She would very much like that, she decides, but she doesn’t think he will. One thing she had learned from him is that if he’s going to feed from her while and/or before they have sex, he prepares far before. The dinner he has is rich and full of nutrients, it’s not normally around a time in which she’s stressed, and it’s only if he’s sure she’s not too exhausted. Two of the three weren’t happening and she could feel from his grip that he was intending to feed from her as soon as they settle.

It’d been a while since he had fed from her; a few weeks at the very least. He didn’t enjoy doing it when she had finals to worry about so he had appeared to be pretty opposed to the fact, even though she continuously told him that it would be just fine if he did. So she knew he was starving -- parched for it -- and the tender flesh of the inside of her thighs, where the blood ran warm and his nose was tucked near another place he loved to frequent, she knew would be a treat after such a long period of wait.

Harry was brisk in his movements, setting the cake he’d taken down on the coffee table and almost immediately whisking her off to their bed. His pupils were blown a telling black that suggested his hungered state; it’s moments like this -- as he’s setting her down atop of the mattress, pushing the soft fabric of the dress up so it floated and fluttered around her hips with albeit precise coordination, eagerly -- that she remembers what he is. Not that him drinking her blood wasn’t its own telling indicator, but she often forgets that he is truly a whole different part of this world, one that nobody is quite aware of.

This should scare her. The way he pushes her thighs apart and settles happily in between, the dark of his eyes overshadowing the usual foamy, light green that they regularly were -- it should make her heart race out of fear that he might take it too far. Drain her of every ounce of blood until he’s satiated and full.

But she isn’t -- not in the slightest, because not only is he pushing sweet kisses to the skin and wrapping his arms around each thigh like a hug, he’s looking up at her like she had given him a star. Like she had single handedly flown to space, plucked one from the sky, and held it out for him to have and to hold. “Remember to tell me if it gets to be too much,” he reminds her as he always does, before he presses his nose to the skin and breathes in deep. His shoulders roll backward once as he nestles closer, his tongue dipping from his mouth to lick a stripe where he would bite as he always does. Goosebumps tickle up and down her arms and legs, her center giving a pulse in interest at the proximity in which he’s near her. It’s too much and not enough all at once, bristling beneath his attention, impatience and excitement fizzling through her veins as she awaits the first bit of pain.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it. The way the point of his teeth slides into her skin, two pricks much like a shot that she still flinches from. Harry notices her discomfort, using one of his hands to reach up towards her, slotting their fingers together with a soft squeeze as he latches his mouth around the point he’d chosen. He begins to suck from her, such an odd sensation that’s both terribly disconcerting and arousing all at once. A moan threatens at the back of her throat but she swallows it down in favor of hearing his own happy hum against her. Though he normally lacks color, the addition of blood into his system always tints his cheeks a rosy pink at first, and the way he holds onto her tighter, suckles sensually, and revels in the sweetness of the taste makes her tremble.

Y/N doesn’t start getting light headed until two to four minutes in and Harry can always tell -- parting from her with a soft, wet smack, lulling his tongue over the flesh he’d just been feeding from. This time instead of peeling back immediately as he usually does, he scoots forward and pulls the fabric of her panties to the side. Once again he breathes in deep, only this time he is slicking the broad of his tongue up from her hole up to her swollen clit, suckling it into his mouth. This time she is unable to keep her moan quiet, weakened thighs attempting to shut around his head, as he continues to lap at her petals.

“Harry,” she gasps, her back arching, her hips rolling up against his tongue where the clit slicks and slides around the swollen button, moving it side to side beneath, “Please, please don’t stop I --” her legs are shaking much more than she was expecting, reaching down with the hand that he wasn’t holding to burrow in his hair. The mix of spit and her juices was deliciously inviting, wet, messy and warm. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, the telling sign of an orgasm zipping up from the tips of her curled toes, and the light of it wraps around her thigh, around her hips, up through her torso and fanning out down towards her fingers and to the tips of each strand of hair atop her head.

He reaches down towards his cock, wiggling down the slick trousers so they bunch around his thighs as he slips his fingers around the stiff shaft and begins to twist and tug, only serving to make her moan even more against her. Her chest heaves with each breath, biting down on the inside of her cheek when he prods his tongue at her hole, licking inside her, slurping and drinking her up like he’d been born to do it. Almost like he’d been waiting for it since she’d promised him a bite of her thighs in exchange to go to the wedding. The sheer avidness and passion, how he takes hold of her clit between his lips, sucking hard and fast.

He encourages her with his gaze alone, nodding his head, a soft, “Mhm,” against her that had her insides undulating, and like a bubble of water that swells beneath immense pressure, it pops around her in a blinding wave of light. She cums on his mouth, shaking like a leaf -- a very well satisfied leaf -- as Harry licks and sucks and works her through it. Brings her back down from the clouds with soft, sweet kisses up her thighs, to the junction of her leg and hip, pushing kisses to her stomach, and skipping where her dress was still covering her to her mouth. When he kisses her he slips his tongue into her mouth so that he can taste her, nipping, and suckling at her lips before rubbing the tips of their noses together.

Harry pecks another kiss to her mouth before murmuring, “We ran out of cranberry juice this morning,” but before she could act even the tiniest bit elated, he continues, “Thank goodness I have a whole new case of it in my trunk.”

“Harry,” she pouts, but he reaches up and plucks at her bottom lip.

“Put that away,” he tuts his tongue, “If you drink it all, maybe I’ll get you off again, hmm?”  

[theclaravoyant]

an addition to the family (david x patrick, schitt’s creek)

AN ~ I don't know exactly how this happened, but I have 2000 words of David x Patrick pro-pet adoption holiday season fluff with a healthy sider of David & Stevie friendship and 'delightfully half-half' Xtn/Jewish David, and I couldn't help but share it. Enjoy! and support your local pet shelters this holidays.

Rated T just in case. fluff. contains mentions of both Christmas and Hanukkah

Read on AO3 (~2100 words)

an addition to the family

After a snooty dachshund rejected his advances, David turned back to his stand and tried his best not to pull a face as he straightened a row of collars. He’d never really got dogs. There just seemed to be something about them he couldn’t vibe with; not even the neat, posh ones. But he could respect that other people liked them – and he certainly appreciated those who aspired to give their pets the best. His pleasure at the very popular reception of their hand-made organic dog treats was very much genuine… even if he wasn’t too keen on giving out the samples himself.

Patrick, on the other hand, was living up to his reputation with the local youths; kneeling in muddy snow at the adoption drive, helping kids get up the courage to pat his charges, which were on the larger side of the doggy spectrum. For some unknown reason that David could only boil down to the mysteries of love, it warmed his heart to notice that Patrick’s smile somehow resembled that of the gambolling Retriever-cross he was currently introducing to the nearest family as Buddy.

“Thinking about an addition to the family?” interrupted a familiar voice. Stevie, raising an eyebrow, over the cup of tea she had brought him.

David scoffed, and took the tea. “Ugh. No.”

“Come on,” Stevie cajoled. “I think it would be cute.”

“I think it would be… messy. And loud. And…”

And something shaggy and black and white, maybe a Husky or a Border Collie, was lying on its back while Patrick laughed and rubbed its belly. It pawed the air in delight.

David cleared his throat.

“Besides,” he finished. “We don’t have room for it in the apartment.”

“It doesn’t have to be a dog, you know,” Stevie pointed out. “Me, I’m thinking about getting a lizard. Or maybe a ferret. Like old Felix here.”

She swung her arm around, revealing a mouse-brown ferret with a white bandit mark across its eyes, wrapped around her arm quite contentedly. David yelped.

“Oh, God! Why??” Eye twitching, he reined himself in. They had customers to think of after all – not that most of them didn’t already know of his lack of affinity for animals by now. Most of them found it funnier than he cared for, to be honest. Still, he pulled out of the dive. “Why- why- why is Felix, um, here?”

“Because I wanted to try out these little hats,” Stevie said, plucking a tiny green-and-red elf hat from the table and arranging it on Felix’s head. He sat up, attentive, almost appearing to clap his hands. If he didn’t have such a rat-like face, it almost would have been cute. And dare he say it, David had an idea to make it even cuter.

“… We also have matching scarves.”

Resigned to his fate, and to sacrificing himself for the art, David picked a green one from the selection and pressed the stud so that it sit comfortably around the ferret’s neck. Felix wrapped a tiny hand around his finger in return.

“Aww,” Stevie said. “He likes you.”

“That’s nice,” David replied, withdrawing his finger with a half-hearted glare. He had intended to be sarcastic but actually, it did feel kind of nice - there was a reason after all, he supposed, that humans had domesticated animals for the last few thousand odd years. Why people then proceeded to abandon the little monsters in droves, he would never understand.

(Maybe he would have, not so long ago. But he tried not to think too hard about that.)

Instead, he focused on doing the best he could for the store. He peddled the dog treats, and cat treats, little booties and hats, collars, toys; everything. He encouraged people to take photos, tag them on Instagram, buy gifts for friends, and of course donate to the shelter. A handful of times, Patrick offered to cover, but since that meant David helping out at the shelter drive as his replacement, David declined. Besides, they were doing well, but it wasn’t like things were flying off the shelf. He got plenty of downtime.

Plenty of downtime to think.

Plenty of downtime to think about the apartment, the budget, the hints that Patrick had been dropping. The shop in Prague, whose resident cat Luna had once got him to buy what remained to this day his favourite mug. Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.

(Maybe he was already vision-boarding outdoor sun-boxes and cat runs and reading about something called ‘cat mint’. But he wasn’t going to tell Stevie about that.)

Still, by the time the day’s festivities were winding up, David was in a much more pensive state of mind. He packed up their remaining supplies (there weren’t many; as always, he’d planned well) and wandered over to the shelter’s pens to wait for Patrick. Ted was there, explaining some flea drops to Twyla while Alexis made kissy faces at her friend’s new ginger cat. That, David told himself, is what caused him to wander over to the feline side of the selection.

Most of the pens had been cleared out by this point, and most of what were left were the older cats, the scarred ones, the ugly breeds or sickly-looking ones. David frowned; it was, he supposed, to be expected, but somehow if anything, that made it even more sad. His eyes caught the bright yellow ones of a black cat at the end of the aisle. There were a few of those left, too. This one had a scar on his shoulder, a bit of knotted fur where it was healing, but otherwise he was quite a handsome devil. Even if his gaze was a little too insightful for comfort, it kept David’s attention so thoroughly he didn’t in the slightest notice Ted sneak up.

“Hey, bud. How’s things?”

“Uh, good,” David replied, stammering to keep from jumping near out of his skin. He straightened up from his cat-examination angle, and found that a question seemed poised on his lips.

“I see you’ve meet Maccabee,” Ted pointed out, and bent over himself to greet the cat and pull him out for a cuddle, before turning his attention back to David. “He’s been in rescue for a year this Christmas. It’s sad, really; black cats are already least rescued because of some superstition, and with his scar and FIV on top of that –“

“What’s FIV?”

“It’s… like HIV. For cats.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ted took a deep breath, and sighed it out. “He’s asymptomatic at the moment, but it still means he can’t live with other cats, or go outside where might run into them and get himself into trouble. It’s kinda limiting. Which sucks, ‘cause he’s a sweet little guy now that he’s had his testosterone – you know, permanently lowered - and some people won’t even pet him once they find out.”

Try as he might, Ted couldn’t hold back a little smile at David, who had already offered a knuckle for Maccabee to sniff and couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the little man. It took a solid few seconds for David to notice that Ted had stopped talking, and what he was doing, at which point he dropped his hand and cleared his throat.

“That’s, um. That’s a bummer.”

“It is. Especially because, you know, people can’t get it from cats.”

“Like, not at all? Are you sure?”

Somehow, David’s hand had found Maccabee again, and was scratching absently at the back of his neck. He watched for Ted’s answers closely, apparently unaware of what his fingers were doing.

“Not even if he bit your whole hand off,” Ted swore. “Certainly not if he… I don’t know. Sat in the same room or maybe, rubbed past some clothes…”

Something deep inside David was thinking, as Patrick jogged up the aisle to greet them. He saw who Ted was holding, and pouted.

“Mac’s still here, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ted sighs.

“And David- David, is here?” Patrick didn’t mean to sound so surprised, let alone hopeful, but he had been dropping an awful lot of hints that he was interested in getting a pet. He’d just assumed David hadn’t been picking up on them, or had misinterpreted them as the idea to come here. Either way, it seemed he had a foot in the door, if he trod lightly.

“Can I hold him?” Patrick asked Ted.

“Sure,” Ted agreed, passing him over. “I’ve gotta start crating the others anyway. Just bring him down the front when you’re done.”

As Ted walked away, David frowned.

“I thought you said you were allergic to cats?” he wondered.

“They make meds for that, David,” Patrick assured him, and cooed at Maccabee, letting the cat rub his face into his hand and paw at his shoulder.

“Okay.” David nodded and, more conscious of what he was doing this time, resumed scratching Maccabee between the shoulder blades and around the back of the neck. It seemed his mind had been made up for him – especially as he started to feel the tiny sputtering rumbles of a hesitant purr beneath the coarse black coat.

“Hey, Patrick?” David began again.

“Yes, David.”

“Did you know that Maccabee is the name of the group of Jewish warriors who took back the temple from Antiochus and lit the oil that started Hanukkah?”

Patrick blinked in surprise. “I kinda assumed it was something biblical but no, I didn’t know that.”

“So you didn’t set me up to meet this cat a week out from Hanukkah?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t name him Maccabee?”

“David. I met him this morning.”

“So you haven’t been conspiring for me to get you a furry four-legged friend these last few months.”

“Well…“

“And you didn’t bring Stevie, Ted, and/or Alexis in on this little gambit.”

“I wouldn’t say I brought them in. But yes. I think it would be nice to have a pet! I always had a dog growing up and Rachel had a cat – I miss being around them. And these little guys, they need a home. Mac needs a home, David.”

He lifted Maccabee’s face beside his own, glowing yellow eyes and pleading blue making a point together. Now that David thought about it, maybe they should add some kippot to their holiday hat collection.

“Come on,” Patrick continued. “You said it yourself, it’s basically fate – it’s divine intervention-“

“It’s a fundraiser set up for the sole purpose of helping the shelter adopt out animals,” David corrected. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

But the thought of putting Maccabee back in that sad little cage at this point and walking away was almost too much to bear. The thought of him sitting on the shop counter by Patrick as he worked the books, or batting him away from the menorah and the tinsel, or waking up to him on the end of their little bed – now that, David thought, suddenly felt like it had always been part of this little world he’d envisioned for himself.

And judging by the look on Patrick’s face, Patrick was envisioning something very much the same.

David took a deep breath, pretending to be much more laboured about the decision than he now was; he had a reputation to maintain, after all.

“You promise to clean up his poop?”

“I promise,” Patrick vowed.

“And you promise the allergy thing won’t bug you?”

“Literally got antihistamines in my bag.”

“Then I think we should do it,” David announced. “I think we should bring Maccabee home.”

“Really?” Patrick’s eyes lit up, and he held Maccabee a little tighter to stop from shifting him too much in his excitement. “Great!”

He bounded back up the front of the shelter stands, David following behind with the patient long-suffering smile for once. Ted was waiting at the back of his truck, one last crate awaiting, register and kitty (pun, as always, intended) long since packed away. His smile told David and Patrick he already knew exactly what had transpired, and he handed the spare crate and a manila folder over to David.

“That’s his welcome package – medical records, FIV info, council registration, stuff like that. Take a look, and if you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

“How much-“

Ted shrugged and waved them off.

“All sorted,” he said. “Happy Hanukk-cat, David. Merry Catmas.”

“Thanks,” “Thank you,” David and Patrick replied – and then Patrick added for good measure –

“And a Happy Meow Year.”

They could hear Alexis groan from the front seat of the truck. Ted laughed and joined her, calling as he went –

“Happy Meow Year to you too!”

[the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond]

Get to know me

SI know that there was a lot of version of this and I have lost the mention for a previous version who was not that long ago but interesting, so I’m sorry! T_T I didn’t ignore everyone I’m just a butterfly and I have lost all the tag T^T But the last who had tagged me was @kaosstar , thanks you very much! \o/

1. Dogs or Cats?

Guinea pigs. Or cats, I love kitties too.

2. YouTube celebrities or normal celebrities?

Normal....

3. If you could live anywhere where would that be?

Where I live now, near nature but in a slightly bigger and nicer house, with a library and a pool. And I would never have leave my house…

Or by a lake. That would be nice too.

4. Disney or DreamWorks?

Dreamworks. Their works had more impacted me. And also, if I should choose an animation movie studio, I would have pick Ghibli. :)

5. Favourite childhood TV show?

Les mystérieuses citées d’Or! Oh and the Justice league thing,with a lot of DC  series!

6. The movie you’re looking forward to most in 2020?

Wonder Woman 1984  and Dune. 7. Favorite book you read in 2019?

It was a terrible French translate but Annihilation. :p But I haven’t read a lot in 2019.

8. Marvel or DC?

Dc... without thinking. :)

9. If you choose Marvel favorite member of the X-Men? If you choose DC favourite Justice League member?

Storm for X-men, and aaaah I love them all for DC... Wonderwoman? Hawgirl? and in the DC universe, it would be Poison Ivy or Harley Quinn.

10. Night or Day?  

Night.

11. Favourite Pokemon?  

Ninetails

12. Top 5 bands/artists:

The Beatles, Orphaned Land, Myrath, Juice=Juice, Postmodern Jukebox.

13. Top 10 books.

Dune and The Children of Dune Frank Herbert, Ancestor of Avalon, Stormqueen, Hawkmistress and Secret of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley and Diana L. Paxson, Orcs by Stan Nicholls, Les chroniques des Crépusculaires and Bohème by Mathieu Gaborit (If you speak a little bit French please read it it’s an absolute gem), Duide by Olivier Peru, and the three Herald of Valdemar (I’m cheeting) like Arrows of the Queen  of Mercedes Lackey!

I know George RR martin and J R R Tolkien are great and I deeply love them too.

14. Top 4 movies

Astérix et Obélix mission Cléopâtre

Le Moulin Rouge

Wonder Woman

Kaze no Tani no Nausicaa (it’s an animated movie but grumpf)

15. America or Europe?

Well... Europe.

16. Tumblr or Twitter?

Tumblr.

17. Pro-choice or Pro-life?  

...Pro-choice. Just, pro-choice!

18. Favorite YouTuber?

Ginger Force! A French woman youtuber, who had made a very interesting video about the adaptation from things like book to movie etc, and a feminist and more emission too.

19. Favorite author ?

Marion Zimmer Bradley and Mathieu Gaborit.

20. Tea or Coffee?  

Neither of them. Hot chocolate. I didn’t digest both so...

21. OTP ?  

Mmmh... Chani and Paul Atreides.

22. Do you play an instrument/sing ?  

I sing like a pot, but I sing when I draw  or clean my home.

I’m tagged @roguescarlett  @chokit-pyrus @vagabond1925 @biwabiwa @rainofaugustsith @chubbyooo @anchanted-one @made-of-starr-dust @starknstarwars @greencrusader13 @melissagt @sheyshen @verbose-vespertine

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 3

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 07/24/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 1,833 words

A/N: Hope you’re excited! Any theories yet? It’s posted early because I have plans for tomorrow and intended to post it then. Probably wait five days before posting the next part, if not a week.

Jimin stroked your hair, watching your every movement as you sipped some ginger ale. “Better, chubs?” You nodded. “It was probably the artifact Tae and I recovered combined with my worry. Nothing to worry about.” “Of course we worr—” Jimin broke off, dropping his gaze, “Worry. I’m sorry, y/n. You were already worried about me, and Joon-hyung, and…and you—” You put a finger to his lips. “You should try to sleep.” He looked a little like a kicked puppy. “But—” “Jimin-ah, I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Please. I get that you don’t like conflict to remain, but there’s going to be even more if you push me right now.” He slowly nodded. “Okay, chubs. Cuddle with me?” You nodded, laying back and lightly holding onto Jimin. It was a good way of knowing that he was just worried about you instead of being upset with you. He craned his neck to get his kisses, then lay back with a slight smile when he received it. You matched his breathing, waiting until he had fallen deeply asleep, then glancing back. Yoongi nodded, climbing over and carefully taking your place. You slid off the bed, checking on Namjoon, who was half-asleep on the other bed. He caught your hand, squeezing it and pulling it so he could get a kiss. “Feel better?” “Yeah, you?” He nodded. “Hoseok gave me some herbs and painkillers.” “Good. Rest up,” You whispered, giving him a second kiss. Taehyung and Jungkook were eating in the next room, the one you sent Taehyung to get. Whatever they were eating smelled…absolutely terrible. You gagged a bit and closed the door, plugging your nose. “You okay?” You wrinkled your nose. “What the heck are they eating?” “Grilled chicken alfredo,” Hoseok answered, still looking concerned. “Your favorite. You must be really sick. You don’t like ginger outside of ginger-ale, so maybe catmint or peppermint…” He started muttering, feeling your forehead. “I really don’t want to consume anything right now, Hobi.” You tucked into his chest grateful he had come from taking a shower. He didn’t smell like anything but Hobi, and his chest had a comforting warmth to it. “I was planning on sleeping in there.” He hummed softly. “What smells are okay?” You shrugged, then sniffed your hand. “Citrus. I think peppermint.” He nodded. “Let me and the other two try and clean out the smell. If we can’t, are you okay sharing with Joon?” You nodded. You had told Jungkook that you wanted to have your own bed. You just needed space. Space to calm down. Space to worry. Space that should be filled by Jin. Space to punish yourself for not protecting your loves better. You had put off finding more protections for them, thinking they might find it a little overbearing and worrying that your love for them might cause you to overstep the bounds of your duty as an archivist. What if you used an artifact to protect them, and ended up hurting others because of it? But now Jin was missing, and even if you didn’t think he was in danger…Namjoon said Jin had been hurt. And who knew who had taken him, and for what reason. For all you knew it could be like what happened with your father. Oh God. “Tinny? Is your stomach bothering you that badly?” Hobi slouched to meet your eye, gently wiping your cheeks. You wiped a tear from your own face, staring at it. “No. It isn’t. I’m just…” You shook your head. “I don’t even know. I mean, I’m crying. Again. I’m broken. Why am I broken?” “Your voice just squeaked and it was adorable—no wait, don’t cry more!” “It’s not cute, it’s annoying and wrong and ugh!” “Sshhh,” He hushed you gently. “Jimin and Namjoon are asleep. We don’t want to wake them.” You pressed your face into his shoulder. “What’s wrong with me?” You asked, unable to push back the tears. “You’re sick and stressed, and I’m sure you’re tired and worried. I think you should just try and sleep, Tinny. Okay? Yoongi and Namjoon can help you figure out the songs you need in the morning. Do you want pajamas or are you okay in Jungkook’s t-shirt?” “I’m okay.” He guided you to the other side of Namjoon’s bed, helping you lay down under the covers. “You want me to hold your hand until you fall asleep?” You nodded, feeling calmer. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why….” He kissed you gently when you didn’t continue. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Just try and sleep, baby. Cuddle Joon if you feel sad again.” You nodded, closing your eyes. You were tired, and crying always gave you a headache. Maybe sleep was a better choice. You wiggled over so that you were next to Namjoon, squeezing Hobi’s hand. You opened your eyes as light shone brightly through your eyelids. You were in some sort of stone room, cold air greeting you where you had been warm next to Joon just seconds earlier. It felt foreign and familiar at the same time. There were no lights or windows, but the room was mostly lit. You looked at each blank wall, but the only thing that you really noticed was that the walls were the light source, and some other part of your brain was saying that you already knew that. “Nightingale,” A voice called behind you. You froze. “Nurya Cohen.” “You may face me, Archivist.” You slowly turned to her. “Working with that artifact you swore would stay locked up?” She looked to the floor, the glow about her dying down slightly. “Slicha, ani lokeakh et mlo ha’achrayut.” “I still don’t speak Hebrew.” “Sorry, I take full responsibility,” She translated, dipping her head. “But I should hope you know I would not go back on my word unless circumstances called for it.” “As a light priestess, I would hope not.” She turned, gesturing for you to follow. You fell in step with her, out into her sanctuary. Last you had seen her was when her healer friend had, well, healed you after your crash from the top of the building three years ago. She had come to you, so the last time you had been to the sanctuary was when you had dropped the artifact with her. Too big for you to move around, but perfectly hidden in her sanctuary. Which was a temple of light and healing, a place where some astronomy students also conducted their studies. It had surprisingly strong security despite being a pacifist group. “We have a metupal in our infirmary. One of yours, I believe.” She folded her hands in front of her, similar to how an opera singer might. “Actually, we are mostly certain.” “Oh?” You frowned, trying not to get your hopes up that it was Jin. “He keeps rambling about dorchadas and something about an oasis. He also said that the kids were in danger and he had to tell you, Nightingale.” “Dorchadas? Are you certain?” You frowned. “You know what it is?” “It’s Irish. For darkness.” She looked more troubled. “And the oasis mentioned?” You shook your head. “Not sure. Not even sure what kids he could mean. I keep an eye on multiple children’s homes.” “Well, he wouldn’t lay still until I assured him I would pass the message to you. But I also contacted you because of the rumors that we heard just before his arrival. Rumors of a dark organization that works to remove the powers of supers, one that had been disbanded, but are now active again. And that they had found a former patient.” She paused, glancing at you as you froze. “Nightingale?” “The Oasis Initiative,” You breathed. Both of you were silent, but she looked at you as if waiting for further response. “Cursing is a little inappropriate here so you better continue.” “Quid pro quo.” You made a slashing gesture, making a face as you tried to think of how to explain it. “After you finish.” “Very well. One of our watchers got the pictures and information of the patient. It’s Siphon, or Laguz as you know him. However, another group also got the information—” “The Conservatory,” You guessed. Everything made sense now. They probably sent rookies because they thought it would be a basic abduction followed by an explanation that it was for his safety. They probably only heard whispers of a threat and given their penchant for watching out for their own (one of the few points you couldn’t find fault with) went to make sure that the whispers couldn’t be carried out. She nodded. “I know you dislike the place—I don’t blame you—but if this Oasis Initiative is functioning again….” “Then we all need to be ready for the worst. And we’ll need a strong base of operations, like the Conservatory. I trust you to send a representative as well?” She dipped her head. “Of course, Archivist. I will give you the head-start. Be advised, though, you should put distance between yourself and this fight.” Everything was getting blurry and the panic—that was a side effect of the artifact—started rising in your body. “Why? And who’s in the infirmary?” You managed to choke out. Her gaze flit to your midsection before the dream shattered like glass. Strong arms had you pinned down. “Y/n!” You finally opened your eyes, almost throwing up, but somehow managing to choke it down long enough to free yourself and run to the bathroom. Someone pulled your hair back. “Maybe she should see a doctor,” One of them said softly. You sat back, panting a little. “Tae, can you get me my makeup bag?” “Yeah.” “Makeup? Honey, I don’t think that’s—” “You’re right, you don’t think of me having anything else in my makeup bag, but I do. Now, Hoseok, I love you, but get out. Same goes to you, Kook, and you, Yoongi. Nothing to see here.” You got to your feet, reaching to flush the toilet before shakily stepping over to the sink to brush your teeth. You scrunched your nose, frustrated with yourself. “I’m sorry. I just…I need a minute.” “Okay,” Jungkook said. “We’ll keep the food in the other room. Do you want some toast?” You nodded. Tae handed you your bag. You closed the door behind him, taking a couple deep breaths to steady yourself before going to the bottom of your bag and pulling the pregnancy test out. “Please be wrong,” You muttered. You waited the appropriate amount of time, trying to count how long it had been since you had had your last visit from Aunt Flo. This would be the worst timing ever. You didn’t want to be sidelined. Not if the Oasis Initiative was active again. You glanced at the time on whoever’s watch you had found sitting on the counter, then looked at the test.

~~~~~

Part 2.   Part 4.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

[llemonsqueezee]

Get to know me tag game

I was tagged by @yooniesim 💕

1. Dogs or Cats? DOGSSS

2. YouTube celebrities or normal celebrities? youtube celebrities

3. If you could live anywhere where would that be? I would love to live in Australia. I like the lifestyle and vibes there.

4. Disney or DreamWorks? DISNEY !!!

5. Favorite childhood TV show? MMMhh as told by ginger, Jimmy Neutron, The Powerpuff girls, totally spies and Bratz

6. The movie you’re looking forward to most in 2020? Nothin.

7. Favorite book you read in 2019? i haven’t read any book books oop

8. Marvel or DC? Idkw but Marvel hits so different...

9. If you choose Marvel favorite member of the X-Men? If you choose DC favorite Justice League member? 

Should have chosen DC then. I don’t really care for X men but I live the justice league

Deapool ig

10. Night or Day? Night!!! I feel like I get so smart all of sudden???? Lol

11. Favorite Pokémon? Eevee !!! 🥰🥰

12. Top 5 bands: EXO, The Internet, Red Velvet, NCT, BTS and 73736536737 more

13. Top 10 books: I dont really read book books unless its educational.💀

14. Top 4 movies: as above so below, IT, black panter, The avengers series

15. America or Europe? I’m from Europe and I’ll stick with it lol.

16. Tumblr or Twitter? Tumblr, never used twitter

17. Pro-choice or Pro-life? Pro-choice

18. Favorite YouTuber: Jackie Aina

19. Favorite author? Whoever wrote that corporate communications book ig

20. Tea or coffee? unsweetend dark tea 🥰🥰

21. OTP? ooff, Moonsun, Chanbaek, Vkook. And more...💕

22. Do you play an instrument/sing? I used to play the violin for like 2 years. Got sick of it real fast lol

I tag @dyoreos , @ooz3 , @simgguk, @nucrests and everyone who wants to do it 💕

[mydearldydisdain]

I was tagged by @evies20dollars to answer some fifty questions! I’ll do it like she did, under the cut

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? Pink!

2. Name a food you never eat. This is...hard? I’m not really a picky eater so I’m just trying to think of something that I never come into contact with. The first thing I could think of is kimchee. Which is weird that I thought of but it works

3.  Are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Showering

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? Take five

6. Have you ever been to a pro sports game? I have been to a couple of baseball games

7. What’s the last thing you said out loud? “We have [a pyrex measuring cup] that doesn’t have any markings on it.” (to my aunt, she’s baking bread rn)

8. What’s your favorite ice cream? I always find this question difficult because the best ice creams I’ve ever had are like, weird flavors that I got at some specific shop and wouldn’t even be available anywhere else. The best ice cream flavor I ever had was salted peanut butter and graham cracker.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Cold tea

10. Do you like your wallet? Not that I’m using it right now, but yes. The only downside is my main one is kind of big so only fits in one of my purses and doesn’t fit in the other.

11. What’s the last thing you ate? grapes and an egg on toast

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? no

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? The only thing I can definitively say is also the marble racing that was on last week tonight

14. What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn? Just regular butter and salt please!

15. Who’s the last person you sent a text message to? My bff

16. Ever go camping? no

17. Do you take vitamins? yup, just a regular every day one

18. Do you go to church every sunday? No, we are CEO people

19. Do you have a tan? I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible for me to tan, I just burn

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? Chinese. But good chinese

21. Do you drink soda through a straw? no

22. What color socks do you usually wear? Probably gray actually

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Yeah, but mostly just about 5 mph above

24. What terrifies you? The current state of America

25. Look to your left, what do you see? A pad of paper, a teacup, my aunt’s laptop and her phone

26. What chore do you hate most? Doing the dishes

27. What do you think of when you hear an australian accent? I don’t know? Ms Fisher probably

28. What’s your favorite soda? Ginger ale. Does that count?

29. Do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive through? The only time I go to fast food is when I need a drive through. Unless we stop on a road trip for the purpose of also using the bathroom

30. What’s your favorite number? uh....I feel like as a math person I should have one but I don’t. My first instinct says 13

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My aunt, I’m staying with her for a couple of weeks to get away from my family

32. Favorite cut of beef? I like skirt steak?

33. Last song you listened to? Making a Home from Falsettos

34. Last book you read? Unmarriagable by Soniah Kamal. It’s “Pride and Prejudice in Pakistan”

35. Favorite day of the week? It normally varies each year based on my schedule. Currently Wednesdays

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? Yes! It’s something I sat down and taught myself to do one weekend when I was a kid and bored

37. How do you like your coffee? As tea

38. Favorite pair of shoes? I have two answers. One is my pair of sneakers that I got this summer, they are the best, most comfortable sneakers I’ve ever worn. The second is a pair of vintage style light pink heels that are so cute

39. Time you normally get up? I’m getting up about 7-8 right now, but before this, it was 6. And I’ll probably go back to 6 in a couple weeks.

40. Sunrise or sunsets? Sunrise

41. How many blankets on your bed? Right now a sheet, a comforter, and a blanket at the bottom for depending on the temperature

42. Describe your kitchen plates. They are white. I’m pretty sure they’re from Ikea

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment? I don’t know, because like I said, I’m at my aunt’s house. Her kitchen rn is in use b/c she’s making bread

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I don’t really drink

45. Do you play cards? Yes, when I can find someone to play with me. I played cribbage last night, and got a 24 point hand! (I’m very proud, as you can tell)

46. What color is your car? white

47. Can you change a tire? lol no

48. Your favorite state/province/country etc? Not to be cliche, but my home state is still probably my favorite

49. Favorite job you’ve had? I haven’t really had a lot at this point. Probably math grader

50. How did you get your biggest scar? Okay, so to start, I was a very cautious child, so I didn’t really get a lot of scars. My biggest (possibly only?) one has shrunk to a little over an inch, but it used to look like 2. It was the fourth of July. I was somewhere from 8-10. I had been riding my bike. I rode my bike back into the garage, climb off, and as I’m swinging my right leg back over my bike, my shin grazes over one of my dad’s sharp tools that he had left sitting in a bucket (why??? would he do this???) Honestly, I probably should have gotten stitches, but we didn’t go to the emergency room. And it turned out fine so...

I am tagging @cruuelsummers @loudwithlaughter and anyone else who wants to do it!