#sure also continues a very long trend that is making me want to light myself on fire

[milkweedman]

Made some quick pickles with what I'm pretty sure is the last harvest of lemon cucumbers this year. Have to sit in the fridge for a few days first though.

Also made muffins. I have a banana muffin recipe from my mom that I ways use, which calls for 6 very ripe bananas and I only had 3, so instead of halving the recipe I tried substituting the other half for apple sauce. Cut back on the sugar but I think they're slightly too sweet. Probably good with tea or coffee though.

[redbuddi]

Do NOT Read "Lady Crystal is a Man"

People who know me know that I'm a little bit of a webtoon addict. I'm basically always reading a million different fantasy romances, even as someone who is not personally interested in romance in real life. Because of this, I am well aware of the more problematic elements of a lot of webtoons, to the point where it's easier to list webtoons that aren't problematic than to name ones that are. It's unfortunate, but it's a common aspect of webtoon consumption that most people get used to. (Note: When I say webtoons, I am talking about the genre of phone-optimized romance webcomics as a whole, not just things from the WEBTOON app. The series in question is on Tapas.)

Because of that, I will admit it is partially on me for assuming this comic was going to be more progressive than it actually was. People new to webtoons may be fooled, but I should have known better. On top of that, I am well aware that female-oriented romance stories can sometimes be a little toxic, and while this is a problem that needs to be worked on, I also know about what can happen when something meant for teenage girls is criticized. Even when the criticism is in good faith, it can start a trend of bashing anything teenage girls like and shaming them for wanting to explore media that is anything but flawless. I don't want to add to that.

But this series isn't just a little problematic. It doesn't just have some questionable elements or common plot failings. This is a series that has the potential to seriously hurt anyone who is trans, gnc, or gender questioning, and could give anyone who isn't any of those things the wrong idea about what is and isn't appropriate when it comes to trans/gnc/gender questioning individuals.

If you would like the td;dr, then in a nutshell this comic portrays material that could make an individual feel shame, discomfort, or even body dysmorphia. And on top of that the protagonist is cruelly gaslit and manipulated in ways that the series presents as if it were just light teasing, and that is all only in the 19 chapters that I was able to stomach before dropping the series entirely.

If you would like a more detailed description of this series' flaws, then I will continue below the cut.

cw: transphobia, body dysmorphia, gaslighting

Lady Crystal is a Man follows the story of a man raised as a woman attempting to escape a forced marriage by going to the mysterious and dangerous duke Illian, unaware that Illian is secretly a woman. The story is essentially a combination of two tropes, the Crossdressing Romance trope, where the main character and/or their love interest is secretly not the gender they present themselves as, a trope which has been around for as long as female-oriented comics has existed, and something a little more specific to webtoons (to my knowlege,) the Contract Marriage trope, wherin the protagonist escapes a bad situation by entering a temporary marriage with someone else, only for true romance to bloom between them. I have read many webtoons about Contractual Marriages, but not very many about crossdressing. As a nonbinary person, I tend to be uncomfortable with the highly traditional way many webtoons portray gender roles, and so I try to steer clear of series that tackle gender directly, but that is not to say no webtoon as ever handled it well. In particular one of my favorite webtoons, Alien Idol, tackles gender in an extremely understanding and informative fashion, even taking the time to acknowledge places where it's knowledge is lacking, which I've never seen a comic do so honestly before. Most webtoons are not like this, unfortunately, but that is only to my knowledge, and recently I've been wanting to expand my horizons a little bit. How can I be sure so many comics handle it poorly if I don't even read them for myself, after all? That is what convinced me to check out Lady Crystal is a Man.

In the first few chapters I was hooked. The series has extremely good artwork, and it first appeared to me that they might be trying to do a metaphor for t4t couples. Crystal is constantly coached on how to act and behave as a woman, because if he lives as a man he will be killed by his cruel and uncaring family. He takes a drug to halt his growth, and this drug is actively harming him, he is literally being torn up from the inside having to live as something he is not. He envies masculine traits he observes in others, and dreams of running away to live with the people who truly love him, cutting his hair short, and living as himself. It's because of this that I made the mistake of buying multiple chapters in advance instead of just waiting for them to unlock, and that's why I read so far into this series when normally I would have dropped it the moment it started to go downhill. Anyway, Crystal meets duke Illian, and already a connection is established by the narrative in how the two have had to live in fear of being who they really are. And at this point I was ready for them to start relating to each other and forming a bond.

This does not happen. Not really, anyway.

Illian tricks Crystal into thinking that the marriage paperwork went through extremely fast, and that they are now husband and wife. This is a red flag, but in the same chapter Illian reveals that she's just teasing Crystal as payback for trying to trick her, and that she will fully support Crystal's escape to be with her family as soon as the snow clears up. But then she doesn't. Even when Crystal admits the truth to her, and the snow clears up, Illian maintains the facade that they are married and that Crystal will have to keep staying with them until the annulment paperwork can go through. This happens because Crystal, under the impression that they are really married and that he has tricked Illian into falling in love with him only to have her heart broken, decides to take responsibility for his actions instead of running away like he originally planned. And Illian, hearing this, continues to lie to Crystal about their being married. This establishes a pattern that will continue from here: Crystal will show genuine care and consideration for others, and will be rewarded for it by being continuously manipulated by the people around him.

It's at this point that Illian finds out that Crystal is not a cis male. Not because Crystal told her, mind you, but because Crystal faints due to side effects from the drug he is taking, and Illian, who has taken the same drug, recognizes them. At first this is fine to me. I like that Illian does not get angry or upset, or even wants to confront Crystal on this, and at first I thought it was because Illian respected Crystal's boundaries and would only acknowledge it if Crystal decided to tell her. She even continues to refer to Crystal with female pronouns, even when she deduces that Crystal might be living as a woman just to not be killed in the battle for succession. But then, Illian decides to "make sure" that Crystal isn't cis. And while we aren't directly shown, it is heavily implied that Illian looked under Crystal's nightgown to see his genitals.

There had been one or two red flags up to this point. In particular, focus on the size of Crystal's hands. This was off putting to me, as this is something that could hurt people. Even people who aren't transfeminine could be hurt by this, the fact that having bigger hands than what is considered "normal" for a woman and how this is treated like a clue to Crystal's gender identity is something that would hurt anyone who identifies as a woman but doesn't fit what is considered a normal body standard. Focus on hands is even something that can be a big dogwhistle for TERFs, although I don't suspect the author is a TERF since I'm fairly certain this is a Korean comic, and I don't know what the discourse on gender in Korea is like.

Regardless, even with my growing suspicions, this was a massive shock. Crystal was unconscious at the time, unable to consent. This is unambiguously a massive violation, but the comic portrayed it as just a silly, over-the-top bit of shenanigans by our female lead. I know for a fact that this wouldn't have happened if the genders were swapped, in every webtoon I've read people who try to look under women's skirts are treated as disgusting perverts. But because Crystal is a man, suddenly it's cute and funny when his privacy is undermined. And this is the turning point where the series goes from a seemingly flawed but earnest attempt at a trans metaphor to a showcase of the most disgusting abuse I have ever seen in a story, all written as though it were just silly antics by people who are ultimately in the right.

Soon Illian and the doctor she had look at Crystal begin internally referring to him with masculine pronouns, all without asking if it's what Crystal wants to be seen as. As the doctor mulls over Crystal's potential circumstances, she thinks "Few people pretend to be the other gender, even fewer do so against their will," the series acknowledging the existence of trans people, but only as "petenders." And again, this is before they even know for sure if Crystal is doing this against his will. All the while, Crystal is portrayed in more and more infantalizing ways. He plays with snow like a child. He doesn't understand basic social cues, or even that people might be lying when they speak to him. He accepts everything Illian tells him without checking, even when he knew going into this that he would need to be careful. Illian secretly alters Crystal's communication devices so that she can see everything that Crystal says when he sends out messages to his friends in the east, who are waiting to take him in, unaware that he has been manipulated into staying against his wishes. Illian is drawn in by the way Crystal wears his heart on his sleeve, and doesn't want to let him go, even though she knows that Crystal has a home somewhere else. Crystal is prevented from escaping, and isn't even giving the courtesy of knowing that he is a prisoner.

There is another character in the comic, a cook who is portrayed as being large and strong, completely unfeminine despite being female. For one thing she's a show of hypocrisy, a cis female is a female, without question even if they don't fit eurocentric standards of femininity, but a trans female has to pass these standards with flying colors, and even then they don't really count. But there is another thing about this character. She is regularly referred to as a "monster" for her immense strength, size, and endurance. She owns it, seeming to be perfectly content with it, but not all real people who look like this would enjoy being called that. I feel that this is another acknowledgement of the other, that yes there are cis people who also don't perfectly fit their expected appearances, but they're not normal. They are exceptions. Monsters.

And then came the chapter that made me drop this series for good, completely overwriting my buyers remorse with disgust. Illian has to leave for a mission, and had instructed the Doctor to take away the drug that Crystal is using to maintain a feminine body. The doctor confronts Crystal, telling him that she "knows" he's a man, and blackmails him, threatening to tell Illian if Crystal doesn't hand over the drug. In exchange, the doctor gives Crystal a magic ring that she says will make other people perceive him as female. This is already bad for a few reasons, namely that even during this confrontation, the doctor never asks Crystal if he truly identifies as a woman or not. If Crystal did identify as a woman, then the ring would be a terrible trade. A person who wants to look at themselves as feminine does not do so in the hopes that other people will see them the same way. While the perception of others is certainly a concern, the main consideration is if the person sees themselves as feminine. A ring that only allows other people to see them as feminine would certainly be useful for people who don't want to be misgendered or seen in a way they don't want to be seen, but it wouldn't be an adequate replacement if it wouldn't help the wearer get a body that makes them comfortable. At best it would just be a supplement to something else.

But worst of all, it's all a lie. The ring doesn't actually work. It's all a trick to get Crystal to give up the drug. Yes the drug is harmful to Crystal, and Crystal himself doesn't want to take it, but as far as the Doctor knows Crystal could be trying to appear feminine for his own reasons. But without even consulting him, Illian and the doctor assume they know what's best for Crystal and trick him into giving up what could very well be the thing making him happy and comfortable in his own skin. Imagine how horrific things would be for Crystal if that was the case. Seeing his body change in ways he does not want, entirely against his will, and since the ring doesn't actually work his transformation would be fully visible to everyone around him. But instead of asking what if he wants this, Illian and the doctors decide to play the odds, and this is written as though they're being helpful by doing this. To add insult to injury, the doctor internally criticizes Crystal for accepting the trade without questioning it, seemingly forgetting that Crystal was essentially forced into it.

For obvious reasons, this was the point where I had had enough. This was abuse, plain and simple. Yes characters are not real people, and there is a place for stories that tackle things like abuse and manipulation, but this series never acknowledges the horror of what it's characters are doing, treating these things as though they're just cute and quirky romcom gags, maybe not normal but ultimately harmless. Meanwhile in the real world, these things are deeply harmful and hurtful to the readers of this series, especially those who, like the characters of the story, are forced to live in identities that are not themselves.

It's pretty common for webtoons to tackle things like this without really knowing what they're doing, and usually I'm able to shrug it off and keep reading, even if still criticizing it, as long as it seems the writers have the best of intentions. Making mistakes is how we learn, after all, and a lot of webtoons are written by young adults living in conservative societies who just need the chance to see other people's experiences. But there is a point where I draw the line, and that is when there is no perceivable compassion whatsoever for the types of people they are portraying. As I mentioned, the comic clearly shows an understanding that there are people who do not live as the gender that they are assigned at birth. But it does not see them as people. Even beyond the "pretend" line, gender is portrayed as concrete, inescapable, with terrible consequences for trying to change it. It portrays transfeminine people as clueless, weak, and unable to decide for themselves what's good for them, and illustrates anyone who doesn't fit typical standards of appearance as a strange and terrifying other that shouldn't be considered on the same level as everyone else. In general webtoons already have a massive issue with beauty standards, (don't even get me started on the way fat people are usually written,) but this is a whole other level of cruelty. While this comic was probably not specifically made to harm people, it takes careful steps to put people it doesn't like "in their place." It wants you to feel bad about yourself. This comic and comics like it should never be supported, not just for political reasons, but because, like it's characters, this comic is trying to enforce ideals that it feels for best for you, regardless of if it's what you actually want. And no one deserves to be hurt like that.

So if you see this comic or a comic like it, I encourage you to turn away. If they won't portray us as human, then we don't have any obligation to give them our support.

[thewrittingpan]

Random Head cannons:

Lilia

I firmly believe that he would have a Mountian Dew addiction- sure I think other sodas are possible too like Dr. Pepper but there’s this “dad clock” that has haunted every divorced father I’ve met and it’s a Mountain Dew clock and it always hangs on the wall where the kitchen meets the dinning table. Don’t ask me why it’s a trend in my life that’s between me and my therapist but I feel that Lilia would probably own one in his gamer room.

Speaking of which he’s got a damn gammer room. I’ve admittedly been out of the loop event and plot wise since the release of ignihide’s chapter (I can not spell forgive my dyslexic ass), but it doesn’t matter if it’s just his bedroom, a whole separate room, a streaming room or not. It has a fancy custom built pc, one that lights up and the whole room is themed to match. It’s very well put together and could probably pay my college tuition with the merchandise he may collect.

I personally think that since Lilia is so old, he tends to hoard things. It obviously snuck into my fic Ring of Mushrooms with just the whole house being a cluttered mess of history. Some of it is me trying not to be a hoarder myself but living nicknack because I am just a bird in a human shape, but he just has a lot of things he forgets about.

Call it time blindness, forgetfulness, or sentimentality but he just keeps pictures, books, gifts, random things his sons have drug into the house or stuffed into their pockets. He has jars of buttons that Malleus collected as a toddler, the shiny rocks Silver picked up by the stream, he’s the type of guy to have a full box of the same pencil because it’s his favorite and there was a rumor it was being discontinued.

I also think that he has a soft spot for pinks and pastels especially when the boys were young. Mint/sage greens were a common choice for blankets, hats, and mittens. He also probably color coded the boys. It doesn’t matter if they were the same age or not just for ease and avoiding fights he totally did.

Lilia probably has a bunch of abandoned hobbies. Things he did long enough to have a humans level of decent but not great. if he were to “relearn” it he would appear to be a savant to a real beginner. Some of these hobbies include: Calligraphy, Crochet, Knitting, Fish lure making, Astronomy, Woodworking

Hobbies he would be bad at:

Drawing/Painting, he has a bad understanding of color but a great eye for depth and detail. The forms are always very off putting though.

He tried birdwatching he isn’t bad at it per se, but he often gets interrupted or caught up in something that is not the birds.

He wanted to do quilting and scapbooking, it’s not that he can’t do them either but he always forgets the projects. The scrapbooks mostly the quilts he has a lot more practice with as baby shower gifts for neighbors and for his own kids. Yet his stiches can be sloppy same with the binding.

He has a fondness for spinel gems he likes the wide array of colors like most gems but he likes a lot of the vibrant pinks they come in

Malleus

I think malleus would have a habit of forgetting to eat if not reminded or brought food. I cannot explain why I think this I just have a hunch.

I think Malleus is great at word puzzles and puzzles in general, it’s not inherently that he’s super smart but he just knows patterns more often than not. However he is quite horrible at pop culture references and trivia. For example he is good at Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords, and connections, but since crosswords and connections often have pop culture references those are the ones he struggles with most.

When he was young he collected things. I mean a lot of things, buttons, pins, rocks, pinecones, leaves, he pressed and dried flowers, half of his room was just wall-to-wall collections. This continued on until now but it’s just gotten more mild, though it flares up during stressful times.

He’s very good at quilting if I had to assign a good trade themed hobby. I’m open to other needle crafts like embroidery or cross-stitch but I think quilting is something that gets done during school breaks and he often sews in former button collections to them.

I think he has an aversion to some kind of food, whether it be things like a texture like he doesn’t like the feeling of bananas or the taste of pees makes him nauseous. I don’t think it’s an allergy or anything just something that physically makes him feel like death is the only solution to the minor inconvenience.

He’s a peridot guy sure emeralds work too but if he’s being honest the peridots are cuter

Silver

One time he had a talking to about throwing sand. He was only three at the time but it had to be revisited after an incident with an ant hill when he was four.

He sleeps in a funeral-showing sort of way. His hands clasped on his chest while he lays on his back. He rarely moves in his sleep, but cheese can cause him to sleep walk.

Speaking of which he has a mild lactose intolerance. He doesn’t care to actively avoid dairy but he often forgets he has it. On many occasions he has eaten too much dairy and was genuinely confused by the way he was having tummy troubles.

He cries at weddings.

He doesn’t cry at funerals.

Silver has this hobby of wanting to bird hunt but falls asleep too often. He does however have some half okay drawing skills. Enough to have an upper hand in Pictionary maybe but a good hand on proportions and the details are messy but it works.

He has a fondness for pearls it’s the type of jewelry he thinks is the most beautiful.

[upismediacenter]

LITERARY: To Everyone I Cherish.

Hello, hello! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

I hope everyone is doing well and is taking care of themselves! I recently treated myself to some ice cream at the newly-opened dessert shop near my house. Maybe it is also a sign to treat yourself to one~

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to start this blog post. I had to rewrite this multiple times before I could say I was fully satisfied.

This is a long one, so it would mean the world to me if you manage to read it until the very end. ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ

I will be graduating from my activities as an idol by the end of July.

A decision that took me the longest time to make.

When I was in elementary school, I watched my very first idol concert thanks to my older brother who loves idols so much. I vividly remember the dazzling lights, the fanfare of the crowd, and the cute uniforms they wore. There was one song in particular in their set list that up to this day, I still cannot take off my mind. It was called “STANDOUT” and was centered by one of the ace members of the 2 generation. I’ve heard that the common theme for their songs was rebellion and this song in particular is about embracing your uniqueness, becoming open with who you are. Their worldview may seem different from other groups but just like the title of their song, they’d rather stand out in their own way than follow the trends. Those feelings resonated with me and motivated me to do the same for others and from that very moment I knew, I wanted to become an idol.

Every day after school, I practiced singing and dancing. I memorized all of the popular songs and dances while also building up my portfolio for idol auditions.

I auditioned multiple times and it also came with multiple rejections. It was frustrating at first and it almost made me quit on achieving my dream to become an idol. However, my mother and brother continued to support me and encouraged me to never give up.

A few more auditions later, I passed! [1] I became a member of the first generation member of the idol group you’re now supporting~ ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

I experienced the world that used to be out of my reach. I was able to witness the sea of lights from the stage. I’m truly grateful that I was given a chance to experience the life of an idol.

Earlier this year, I decided to go on a hiatus due to various reasons regarding my mental health. With the support of my managers and the staff, I was able to rest and recover at my own pace.

I made a promise to my fans that I will return in top condition and I did!

But during my time in hiatus, I realized a lot of things about myself.

One of the reasons why I took the time to rest is because I constantly felt burnt out after every performance or concert. I used to enjoy practicing and going to lessons for our performances ‘til it turned into feelings of dread whenever I had to step into the dance room.

To put it simply, I started to hate the thing I loved the most. (╯_╰)

Even with those feelings, I continued to devote my everything to the group. I thought that it would eventually disappear if I took a short break, however, the uneasiness I felt never did.

So after countless considerations and preparations from the staff, it has come to this conclusion.

I will be graduating with positive feelings and starting a new life somewhere else.

Performing has always been my passion ever since I discovered the world of being an idol. It will continue to be my passion even after I graduate.

However, I think there are other things that I want to try and dreams that are waiting to be discovered.

I’d like to take the time to rediscover myself, take a breather from the spotlight after being in it for so long.

I can proudly say that I will graduate from this group with no regrets. This dream of mine has been fulfilled a long time ago and the group is in good hands! My juniors have been doing their best, so I hope you can support them.

In the remaining months before my graduation, I will be fulfilling my idol activities to the fullest. Let’s spend our remaining time together with a smile on our faces.

Even when I’m gone, please continue to support our group!

Thank you for reaching the end of my blog. I hope that my feelings were conveyed properly.

This is not a goodbye. This is a “see you later”. ⊂(´• ω •`⊂)

[1] In Japanese Idol groups, the term used for members joining the group simultaneously is called a generation. For example, if there were currently 2 generations active in the group, the first generation would come from debut, while the second generation would come from a separate audition that happens after debut.

[purelyfiction]

NSFW Alphabet - 007

I’ve seen these all over the internet and I just really wanted to try to do one myself so.... I present: NSFW Alphabet Headcanons.

I think it goes without saying that this is 18+, incredibly NSFW and well, gonna get hot real quick. 

A = Alcohol (How does alcohol affect their endeavors?)

One or two drinks? He’s pretty mild. You’re getting a standard issued Bond. Though, if he’s gone past four - look out world. He’ll find any excuse to leave - completely or hide out in some other portion of the destination you’re at. He’s not shy about telling you he’s ready to go home... for obvious reasons. He’ll get handsy slowly but surely as the night continues and more drinks are downed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Oddly, it’s his hands. He works a lot with them, they’re one of his greatest assets. So when it deals with the bedroom (and you obviously) he uses his greatest strength wisely. 

You heard it here first: Bond is an ass man. 

C = Care (what they’re like after sex)

Soft. There’s no other way to describe James after sex. He’s cuddly, light about his touch, his speech... pliable. In more ways than one. He’ll usually make sure you’re both cleaned up - offer up a shower or bath if needed - before curling into sheets. His pillow talk conversations consist of everything but work. They consist of silly things, chores he needs to get done while he’s home, seasonal changes and opinions on trends (James thinks Peppermint Mocha is far more acceptable than Pumpkin Spice

D = Dirty talk (are they good at it? what are their favorite phrases?) 

“What do you need, darling? Is it me? Is it my cock?”

Yes. He is very good at dirty talk. He adores praising you, complimenting you til you’re swimming in adoration. He loves to take his time, moving so slowly and whispering every in your ear, under his breath - having to make you hone your ears to his voice. Focus on him. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think we all know the answer to this one. James can work his way around the bedroom, with no issue. He could also probably make his way around an adult toy store too. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He doesn’t admit this often but if he could do the same position numerous times - sat on the edge of the bed, you in his lap, mirror opposing you so he can graze your G-spot on each thrust, feel your ass on his lap, watch your facial expressions and your body move with him in the mirror - oh it’s his favorite. When he’s seemingly daydreaming and you have to catch his attention again? He’s most likely thinking about it. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be a clown about it when he wants to be. Every now and then he’ll make a joke about how his sex drive is the ‘one thing that can’t be killed’ or that it shows that he’s no ‘old man’. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

James Bond? Looking unkempt? Never. He shaves nearly every morning - unless you’re requesting otherwise. He keeps himself trimmed and deniably waxes/shaves his chest and back. Otherwise you comment on how ‘scruffy’ he feels when you’re cuddled up against one another. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like all good things, it’s dependant on the time. He knows when there’s a good moment to kick things up a notch. Usually when he does, it’s reminders of how much he cares for you. How happy he is to see you when he’s home and happy to know you’re safe with him. Occasionally, he’ll talk about how he’d been thinking of you at work, missing you, wishing you were able to come with him to try some of the exotic foods he got to when he was at work. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)]

One of his favorite things to do when he’s been away from you too long is ring you up for a ‘talk’. He’ll wait til you pick up the phone, make sure you’re alone, and then tell you to mute your side of the phone. From there he’ll tell you everything that’s been playing in his head all day. The things he’s been aching to do to you. He’ll make sure you hear how fucked you’ve got him. Til the last moment. Then, he’ll give you permission to unmute yourself. If you try any dirty talk, he’ll tell you goodnight and hang up, and follow up with a text. Your turn to be turned on with no release all day ;) xx

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

How about one he doesn’t like? He’s anti-Daddy kink, strongly. Especially if there’s an age gap between you. He gets rather uncomfortable about the whole thing. 

As for the ones he does have? Exhibitionist, Denial, Bondage (no pun intended).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom. Kitchen/Office. Wall. Shower. In that order. After a long case there’s nothing better than being curled up in a lush, comfy bed. His exhibitionist side pokes through in the kitchen/office. There’s more risk of someone seeing you through a window or hearing you. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves when you try to tease him. Because he knows that you don’t last long without getting yourself worked up at the same time. James is an big lingerie fan. Obviously, he doesn’t outright confess because ‘I like you better naked.’

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that makes you uncomfortable or demeaning to you. He’s not in it for the torture or pain of certain things. He causes enough of that in his day job.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s one of the few men that does not enjoy seeing their partner in such a position. Maybe it stems from the fear of hurting you. Or maybe it’s his undeniable need to be in control. If he’s receiving he can’t call the shots. Or at least feels like he can’t. Plus, he finds a great amount of entertainment and arousal in getting you off. Knowing that he can do it all with his mouth? He takes pride in that. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

In a typical setting, James fucks. Rough, hard and fast. But that’s not without proper build up on your end. He will always ensure you’ve had at least one orgasm prior to penetration - he wants to ensure you’re comfortable and relaxed beforehand, otherwise he risks hurting you, something he’s terrified to do. That’s not to say that’s always the case. He can be the soft romantic, typically on holidays, birthdays, and at least once every full moon (not to say he’s doing it purposefully). He knows sometimes slower is just better.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes. Please. All the time. Anywhere. You could be mid-mission and tensions are high, but you’ve got time to spare? Consider that timeslot filled. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

When he’s working, risks are heavily calculated. Because most times they can be potentially fatal. Though he is far more willing when it involves you two sneaking off for a quickie. In the car, public bathroom, hell try him at the dinner table. He’s down for anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

James can get about two rounds in before he’s tapping out. Though, he’s more than happy to go as many rounds as you want, by any means neccesary.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bond loves toys. It is like a dream state for him when he gets the chance to use them. However, he doesn’t own any himself, and if you’ve got them - let him know. He’s got so many ideas. So many. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

James Bond is completely and undeniably a tease. He’ll make touches last years, kisses so slow they could kill. When he’s alone with you he’ll do anything he can just to lengthen the process. Wind you up, let your burn out and build you right back up again. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s pretty low in volume. Though, that might be a characteristic of the job - keeping quiet. Not to say that he’s silent. He’ll grunt, groan - he loves to whisper everything in your ear. Just floating and hovering, switching spots to keep you on your toes. He knows that when his voice gets raspy it kills you a little. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Without a doubt, Bond is incredibly dominant and possessive over you at times. But, and that’s a hard but, if he’s exhausted, injured or simply bored, he’ll let you step in and take the wheel.

X = Xtra (any extra headcanon you might have)

If you were/are an agent - he’s so beyond into comm sex. You always try to shut it down when you sense it approaching, but usually it’s a stakeout where both of you are trying to kill time. You’d always yell at him for distracting you, but there were never any regrets. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man could literally see you bend over to pick up something and grow hard. The man is horny 24/7 practically. So, high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on the day. If he’s been on a case and you’ve finished up - he’s out like a light. If you’ve been on a stretch of having far too much free time, he’ll probably curl into you and ask you how your day was. 

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys��� shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

[spencers-dria]

Hi could you do Spencer Reid x reader spencer accidentally says something mean about reader and they hear but later spencer shows reader how much he loves them. Or same thing but there in an argument and spencer yells something like “ can you once shut up for once. But at the end he shows reader he loves them. Please and thank you and sorry this is so long.

Ps love love your work. ❤️❤️

🎉150 follower celebration Day 1!

Okay so this is my first Request I received for my 150th follower celebration from...coincidentally, my 150th follower! Thanks so much for this request. I hope I did it justice. I liked writing a little sassy Spencer!

Particularly Loquacious

Spencer x Reader

Angst and Fluff

Spencer had a habit of talking, a lot. Not just like any chatty person, but like someone who really didn’t know when to stop talking. He had been called out on this so many times it sort of fell on deaf ears after a while. He learned to tune it out and go about his business as normal. What he wasn’t used to was someone rivaling his ability to take over the conversation. He didn’t even realize what it was like for everyone else, until they came along.

They loved to talk to everyone and anyone. The problem for him was, people seemed to enjoy their company, their chatting. It usually ended up on topics he had little to no input on, and he really wasn’t used to this. Intentionally or not, Spencer had a habit for being able to steer the conversation into familiar territory. He genuinely enjoyed sharing his facts and knowledge with his friends, his teammates. But not them.

They liked to talk about the latest pop music or new movies, what was going on with celebrities, and other things that Spencer knew absolutely nothing of. He was quite used to people speaking on issues of which he had no interest, but he also didn’t mind being left out in those instances. But not with them.

Spencer wanted so very badly to join in and talk with them, to get to know them better. They seemed so very different from him in every way. He grew increasingly frustrated with himself, with his lack of social skills and pop culture knowledge. He tried his best, he really did. Magazines, trash tv, he made it minutes before giving up on any of his quests to impress them. It was this very frustration that was growing in him as he listened in on a conversation about some reality TV show he had heard them mention many times before.

They were sitting in a breakroom at the police station near the latest case. He watched as they snacked on their lunch while continuing their conversation with Derek and Emily.

“Well who do you think should have gone home?” Emily asked.

“Not her. Literally anyone but her! I mean, I figured surely she’d make it to the top three! But this is what happens when you let people vote instead of trusting the judges like every other season.”

“Will you shut up already!?”

Spencer regretted it the moment it left his mouth, even before Derek and Emily turned to look at him with shock and a bit of anger. But not them.

They looked at him with hurt as tears filled their eyes to the brim.

A quick “I’m sorry” being whispered before they rushed out of the room, wiping their cheeks as they went. Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he felt like such a jerk. He doesn’t yell at people, hardly ever. With that said there’s a great many people he feels deserved it, though he’s held back. But not them.

They did nothing wrong. The dam holding back months of frustration just happened to break right in front of them. The only reason it ever existed was because of his desire to know them more. And now he had probably ruined any chance of that ever happening.

Spencer searched until he found them tucked away in a back hallway, sitting on the ground, crying silently into their knees. He wanted to hug them, tell them how much he cares, but he holds back. He’s probably the last person they want touching them. He slides down to sit next to them, staring ahead at the wall as he finds the courage to speak.

“I’m so sorry- that wasn’t- I shouldn’t have yelled. It wasn’t about you well- actually it was but it's not what you think. I actually really love how much you talk I- I know it doesn’t seem like it. You probably think that I am the world’s biggest jackass, which would be an astute and accurate assessment. And I completely understand if you don’t want to give me any of your time but I just-”

He’s cut short, just before spiraling into a storm of anxiety and self-deprecation, but the light touch of their hand over his. He looks up to see them looking at him not with hatred, annoyance, or even hurt, but with kindness and understanding. His heart swells at the feeling of their touch for the very first time.

“Slow down, Spence. It’s okay. Take a few deep breaths, then tell me what you’re thinking.”

Spencer closes his eyes, following their instructions as he feels his rapid heart rate slow to a steady beat. When he opens his eyes, they are waiting patiently.

“I just- I uh care about you- a lot. I never know how to talk to you or what to talk to you about. I don’t know about any of that stuff you talk about with the rest of the team. I’m not up to date on the latest trends and topics in popular culture. And I know you could give a rat’s ass that Koala’s have the same fingerprints as humans or how many constellations are in the night sky. But that’s all I have to offer so I got- I got frustrated. With myself, not with you, please understand that. You did nothing wrong. I love listening to you speak your voice it’s- well it’s kinda calming ironically, considering my outburst.”

Spencer lets out a small snicker at the irony as he catches his breath, looking over to gauge their reaction.

For a moment they look as though they are lost in thought before a smile spreads over their lips, just before a small giggle escapes.

“That’s what that was about. You just wanna talk to me? I was wondering why you never joined in! Spencer I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me.” They squeezed his hand, rubbing soft circles on the back of it with their thumb. Spencer thought his heart might leap out of his chest.

“Really?”

“Yes really! I love listening to you talk as well. You’re smart, interesting, funny. I’ve wanted to get to know you since I started. So yes, you’re a bit of a jackass, but only for making assumptions and not just talking to me about this in the first place.”

Spencer can’t help but hold back his grin as butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“I promise it won’t happen anymore. I’ll talk to you as much as you’d like. But for the record, I’m known for not being able to shut up.”

“Well you’ve been too quiet around me for months. A Spencer Reid that keeps on talking, I don’t see me ever tiring of that. Oh and one last thing before we go back-” They stand, offering him a hand to pull him up.

“How many?”

“Hmm?” He looks over at them, puzzled, as they make their way back to the breakroom.

“How many constellations in the sky?”

“Eighty-eight officially.”

“Will you show me?”

[dulafer]

TWIN REVENGE

This is an old one, just thought I’d share..... Its of my shortest stories. Any feedback appreciated - dclouser@mac.com 

REUNION

I’ve always been the odd twin out. Will and I were both named William C. Witt with the only difference being our middle names – Charles and Conner. I’ve never liked being called ‘Willy’ while William preferred ‘Will’. Growing up, our parents couldn’t tell us apart - we even have the same birthmark on our chins. 

I’ve always been jealous of Will for being the favorite. Many times, I’d answer to my brother’s name on purpose or force Will to swap places with me. The first time I was Will was when he was failing algebra in 9th grade and didn’t want our parents to find out. We swapped places so I could take his tests. My condition was that I stay as him for the day – soaking up my parent’s adoration and love. Will was definitely our parent’s favorite which pissed me off the older I got, often lashing out for attention. In high school I started impersonating my brother to get him in trouble. Sometimes, I would get caught because my brother would have an alibi with friends backing him up, or I’d would slip up wearing my hair differently or some other little detail. 

By our junior year, I started hanging with another group of friends and dealing drugs. My reputation for trouble followed me as my ‘business’ grew. Will knew what I was up to because people would mistake him for their dealer. Weeks before graduation, the principal caught me selling drugs red handed, thanks to a tip from Will. Since Witts are a powerful family, Dad worked a deal to allow me to graduate on the condition that I spend the summer in rehab.  The deal was made and the day after graduation, Dad drove me to the rehab center. I lasted a week before escaping and never being seen again.

My drug pals smuggled me out of Los Angeles to northern California.  San Francisco was the perfect spot for me. With my college age looks, I blend in on local high school and college campuses where my business grew exponentially. I wear the college gear that fit the campuses I was working daily. I’ve always been thrifty with my earnings and always a light user myself so I saved my money for a future free of drugs. When I can, I sit in on college classes, mostly political science since my father was always drilling politics into Will and I. 

Will on the other hand, was the perfect son. He attended college for political science, becoming a staunch conservative. But Will wasn’t always perfect. After two years in college, he dropped out and was hired at Prager U as a campus correspondent to interview students and follow trends. Will quickly picked up a fan base nationally and within months was buying a condo and new car – with the help of a proud rich father. Will travels the country giving speeches, interviewing people and blogging.

Mom and dad have all but forgotten about me. I faked my own death and changed my name when I heard my family was looking for me.  It was convincing enough that the Witts even had a funeral for me. 

CAMPUS LIFE

I’m at Stanford University working my regular ‘route’, supporting my boys with product. A few girls spot me, come running over and one screams. “Oh my god, Will! I’m your biggest fan.” 

I wonder why they’re calling me Will and fawning over me? “Hi, thank you so much.”

“We can’t wait to hear you speak.  You going to do a ‘man on the street’?” the other one squeals.

“Sure am.” Not knowing what that is even. I see one of my boys coming over for his weekly stash. “Excuse me ladies, I’m meeting an old friend.”

Tyler comes over with his usual swagger carrying his backpack. “Do I have competition bro?”

“No, not at all! You know you’re my main man.” We do his frat’s handshake. Anyone watching us would see us both in Stanford gear and just assume we’re students. We take a seat on a nearby bench, talk business, two minutes later, he’s leaving with my backpack full of drugs.

I walk around campus, wondering about those two girls calling me Will.  When I get to the campus hub, I see my face plastered all over the board. The flyers reads ‘Will Witt, Prager University, Topic: Campus Diversity’. I pull one off the board, fold it up and place it in my backpack pocket. I’ll be damned, my little brother in town. I have to see this for myself.

I get home and study the flyer, find the Prager U site and start watching my brother’s videos. We’re so alike with our political beliefs – neither of us have fallen far from our father’s tree. We both have the same attitudes and beliefs as good old dad. He even sounds like dad did, around the dinner table our entire life. I then log into his Instagram account, using Will’s password he’s been using for a decade. I’m getting envious of my brother’s life – he’s still the golden boy and I’m sure dad is super proud of him. He’s traveling all over the world thanks to this Prager gig. On top of that, he’s become famous on Fox and other mediums for being very articulate and full of energy. 

As I watch him, I’m getting very envious of Will. I’m as smart and talented as my brother. I could have been the favorite son, the celebrity.  ‘Should be, could be, will be.’ I think to myself. That should be my life.

The next day, I head to a theater supply store and buy a fake belly, beard/mustache and some make up. I’ve got to see my brother in action today. Will is scheduled to do a ‘man on the street’ interview on campus this afternoon, then the speech later tonight. 

I show up for his man on the street interview but hang way back, out of sight of Will. With my disguise, I’ve gained 50lbs, a full beard, sunglasses and wearing a tie dyed hoodie. I watch and listen as Will, his producer and camera man set up everything. I record everything with a shotgun microphone - hearing the back and forth banter between Will, his cameraman Gavi and Mike, his producer. That evening, I attend the lecture in another disguise just to be safe. I’ve haven’t seen Will in over two years but he’s still the same arrogant Will in private. In public he’s very friendly and charming. As I’m listening to Will speak, a plan starts to formulate in the back of my mind. Willy is already dead to the world, so why not become Will. It’s not like I’m inexperienced in doing it. It would always piss Will off when I would steal his identity and fool his girlfriends. While he was taking a shower, I would get dressed first, take his clothes, phone, car and pick up his girlfriend who was clueless. Will would be pissed but I would apologize and he would forgive me. One time Will called his girlfriend while I was impersonating him and couldn’t convince her that he was actually Will – I was that good. 

I start tracking my brother via his emails, calendar and social media. Will is flying from Los Angeles to Washington for a week, with Turning Point USA to promote Prager U and himself. Our parents will also be gone on vacation to Europe for months, with plans to hook up with Will in London for lunch and a show in a month.

MOVING TO LOS ANGELES

I need to formulate a detailed plan. Will has lived the good life long enough, it’s my turn now.  I start with cleaning up my life here – telling my friends that I need to disappear again. They buy it easily as it has happened before. I clean out my bank account – about $1m, and drive to Hollywood where Will lives.

I rent a furnished apartment across the street from Will’s condo. It’s perfect – from my living room and bedroom, I can see his entrance and garage. I keep my fake beard and baseball cap on all the time, and only use the back entrance to go anywhere. On his departure day, I watch him being picked up by an airport service and confirm his flight took off on schedule. I head to my bathroom and remove my beard and hide my longer hair under a baseball cap. The condo manager gladly provides ‘Will’ with a spare key when I tell him I lost mine.

Will’s condo is very nice with an open floorplan. There’s 3 bedrooms and 3.5 baths. The lower level is a 2 car garage, lots of storage, a large video recording studio and utility room. His silver Porsche 911 Cabrio is parked next to a motorcycle. On the wall is some leather gear, boots and helmet. The 2nd floor has a large living room with exposed brick walls, huge flat screen, fireplace, bar, gourmet kitchen with top end stainless steel appliances and a personal office. The 3rd floor is all bedrooms with a huge master suite with large bathroom and large walk in closet. The one spare bedroom is sparsely decorated with just a bed, dresser and chair. The other bedroom is mostly empty. It’s a great ‘crib’ but I’m certain daddy helped pay for most of it.

I get to work quickly with my plans.  I try to check out his studio’s computer but its password protected and I can’t get it to unlock. This isn’t a problem after I plug in a thumb drive with keystroke tracker and some other tricks. In a minute, I gain access to all his computers and social media accounts.  The password was his usual password but backwards.

His iMac Pro is a wealth of information – full of his unedited videos, speeches and even a digital diary. I thought he stopped doing a diary in 11th grade but apparently not. He updated it just this morning before leaving. I’m sitting there for hours reviewing his life since I left. His comments about my death and funeral are cruel to say the least.  He blames me for fucking up life with my death, how mom & dad are glad it’s over and they’re all better off. Even my father agreed with him. That’s fine by me, they won’t miss Will at all when I take his place.

I decide to spend the night here and continue my studying. In his basement studio there is a green screen, professional video cameras and teleprompters set up in one corner which he uses to make his cutesy videos. I turn on the equipment, click on a file and up pops the words to his last blog on the teleprompter. On another display in front of the green screen pops up the empty stool where he sits. On the stool is a remote I believe is for controlling everything. I plop my ass down, face the camera, and see myself, or Will on the display in front of me. I fuss with my hair to give me Will’s prominent cowlick, press ‘record’ and the words start moving for me to perform. “What’s up guys, Will Witt for Prager U” I repeat his performance, then delete file before passing out at 2am, after seeing his posts on landing in Washington DC. 

LOOKING THE PART

My brother prides himself on his hair, especially the huge cowlick that he’s proud of. According to his calendar, he had a haircut a few days before leaving for Washington. I make myself at home taking a shower, and pulling on some of his clothes – dark gray skinny jeans, t-shirt, jacket and his black high top converse sneakers. I’m missing his clunky watch and ring he wears all the time, and also his rope crystal necklace he’s been wearing since he was 15. The one time I was with one of his girlfriends, not having that necklace on, gave away my identity. I jump in Will’s Porsche and find a salon with a great google rating. I ask for my usual and show her pics from two days ago. They’re very close up and detailed. In half an hour, I’m smiling at Will in the mirror, running my hand through his cowlick. 

Back home, I pull in to the garage and before I can close the door, some pretty little thing is running over to me. 

“Will! Hey there, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh hey, you caught me.” I smile and act surprise.

“Tammy and I are having a party tonight.” She hands me a flyer ‘Jen and Tam’s Big Party’.

“That sounds like a blast, ‘Jen’.” Hoping she’s the ‘Jen’ on the flyer.

“I was just going to slip it in your mailbox. Thought you were going to Washington or someplace exotic again.”

“My DC trip was postponed, so I’m here.” I give her a typical Will smile. 

“Washington’s lost is our gain. You have to come. Besides you can crawl home if you get drunk like unlike last time.”

“I’ll try my best but super busy here.” I chuckle with her, not sure what she’s referring to but Will’s diary will probably help me remember some of it. I’d love to go but there’ll be lots of iPhones around and plenty of pics/videos posted on social media.

A friend sent me a lot of WiFi HD fiberoptic video cameras and microphones to bug my brother’s place. I place a few in each room then sync them to my iPad. Walking from room to room I test them all for activation. It takes all day to hide them properly. Later on, Will’s latest VLOGs and antics from Washington start appearing on his desktop. 

His video reminds me how different our styles are. Will was always conservative dresser while I went for the grunge look. His videos confirm his tastes haven’t changed at all except becoming more expensive. I’m making myself at home – it’s going to be my future home soon anyway. With my new haircut, it only takes a little of his gel to look exactly like him.

 It was always fun turning myself into Will when we were younger, it’s still a turn on now. I print out some pics from his PC files, showing various outfit he’s worn.  I’ve got to nail his ‘look’ perfectly for my future life. There’s one of him in a sharp black suit, white shirt and black tie playing a piano, with a red lapel thingy at a Prager U gala a month ago. We both took piano lesson but I was always a little better.

It’s easy finding the outfit in his very organized closet.  He took it off, left the lapel pin in and probably hasn’t worn it since. There’s a video of the gala in his files that I watch, providing me glimpses of his shoes and watch. I strip out of his jeans, and into the outfit. I couldn’t find his watch – it’s probably in Washington on him but I slip on his pinky ring and a different watch from his jewelry box. Back in the studio, I start a new file – Prager Gala, pretending that I’m Will being interviewed about the night’s events. I sit on the stool, hit record and adlib the event starting with Will’s signature “What’s up Guys” intro, including flashing his two fingers. Being Will is all very natural for me. I’m up half the night learning the equipment, checking out his videos and closet. I just need a few weeks of studying him before I replace him. 

To access his cell phone, a friend puts me in contact with a local guy who clones Will’s iPhone. It costs $2000 but I now see his text messages, calendar and listen to his voicemails. I can also listen in on his calls while he’s talking to people. I can’t speak to them, and they can’t hear me but it’s perfect timing. With him in Washington, his entire life is going through his cell phone, providing me with up to the minute information. He’s working on his schedule for the next few months. With access to all this, I’m learning who his coworkers are, listening to work conference calls, what they’re working on and what Will’s job entails as Prager’s ‘social media influencer’.

Will has a spare set of keys for our parent’s place so I visit just to see what changes have been made while I’ve been gone. The most obvious change is the lack of pictures of me. Their mantel has no pics of Will and I together. It almost looks like they have only one son – that I never existed. Everything else is pretty much how it was three years ago. As I was leaving, Mrs. Tarantolo, their neighbor sees “Will” and comes running over to say hello. She thought it was sweet I was keeping an eye on their place while they were away “Such a good son.”  She claims to be my biggest fan and hasn’t missed any of my videos. She’s clueless about me, as she should – when even our parents couldn’t tell the difference, I’m not worried about anyone. 

My week consists of listening, watching and reading everything he’s up to. I take his Porsche out to grab lunch or dinner to remote places so I’m not seen by anyone that could know him. A few times, fans mistake me for Will and I sign autographs using “What’s Up Guys”. They’re thrilled and its harmless fun for me.  

The week flies by and I return to my apartment across the road.  I return the spare condo key to the manager after making a duplicate of it. On schedule, Will returns via  LAX shuttle service. My surveillance system works perfectly as he moves around his condo.  I see him taking a shower, changing into sweats and working in his studio.  His buddy Mike arrives later with pizza and they brainstorm in the studio about their next VLOG and ‘man in the street’ topics. Listening to their banter helps me learn the lingo and their personal relationship.

Will has not changed a bit since I left Los Angeles – same old anal retentive asshole. It’s fun watching and learning about him. He’s still an avid runner, and like clockwork, he does five miles around a nearby park most mornings. Prager U is just a few miles away and he’s there daily unless he’s traveling. He has a new girlfriend he casually hooks up with but it’s not serious, so that’ll be easy. He writes about meeting her in his diary. He’s got his work schedule planned for the next few months and I know enough to handle it. After a few weeks, my gut is telling me I’m ready to be Will Witt. 

Will’s next major trip is to London for a scheduled Turning Point USA promotion/MOTS and speech at Oxford University – same as he did at Stanford. My plan is to replace him when he arrives home. This gives me another 10 days to get up to speed with his life. I watch him pack, see LAX shuttle service pick him up and confirm his plane took off as scheduled. I make myself at home but keep a low profile, rarely going out. 

Between his phone and computer, I’m kept busy 24 hours/day just keeping up with his life. He’s definitely a video freak, not only recording content for Prager but also everything else like his hotel room, what he had for breakfast, his shopping excursions. I can’t wait to wear his new $7000 bespoke suit he purchased during his shopping expedition on Saville Row. I listen in on his phone calls with our parents, his friends and girlfriend Lisa. This helps me get up to speed with what’s going on in his life. Mom & Dad meet Will for lunch at his hotel, then go to see Hamilton. There’s plenty of selfies and videos to make his life mine. He’s spending a fortune on food, wine, clothes, cigars and trinkets. 

A few hours before he returns, I’m armed with chloroform, truth serum and various knock out drugs.  I hide in his bedroom, ready to pounce with a heavily soaked rag of chloroform. It’s almost enough to knock me out just holding it. 

HONEY I’M HOME

The door lock jiggles and Will enters, plopping his luggage inside the door. He makes a beeline to kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He’s there quite a while before I hear him dragging his very large suitcases up the stairs. I’m crotched in the corner, behind the door as he struggles to get both bags through. The perfect moment happens when one of the bags get stuck in the door jam and I hear him say ‘fuck’. In a split second, I pounce and have the chloroform soaked rag over his nose and mouth. A split second after that, he almost falls to the floor as I catch him. I drag him out into the hallway, and finish putting his bags in the bedroom.

“Welcome home Will, have a good trip?” I look down at him passed out and ask.

“Awesome trip man, had fun with the TP USA team, saw Hamilton with the parents, and hit up lots of pubs and cigars. I’ll have to show you all the pics I took.” I respond to  myself in Will’s typical enthusiastic lingo.  

I drag Will to the empty bedroom and start stripping him. Of course, he’s in a sport coat and tie to travel. It’s so ‘Will’ I think as I carefully remove everything from him, amazed at how alike we still are. I strip off my old sweat pants and t-shirt and put them on him. I pull him up into a metal chair I anchored to the floor, then handcuff his hands and feet so he can’t move an inch. I kneel down next to him, grab his face, then rotate it side to side to check his appearance close up. My sideburns are about a quarter inch too long so I head to my bathroom and trim them to match exactly. 

 I carry ‘my’ clothes back to my new bedroom and slowly start my transformation into Will. I love pulling on the outfit he’s been wearing all day—his sweat and scents mixing with mine. Everything is still warm as I put on his black briefs and socks. His charcoal dress pants fit perfectly as I pull them up. His shirt has gunmetal gray cufflinks and is monogrammed on the sleeve with our initials ‘WCW’. I pulled the black lace up shoes off his feet without untying them. I wiggle into them, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt. In the bathroom mirror I put on his tie using the same technique dad taught both of us.  I pull on his cool black sport coat with large dark gray plaid patterns. There’s a video of him wearing this outfit for red carpet Oscar interviews. I check his breast pockets, locating his iPhone, keys and wallet.  Tucked inside an outside pocket are his glasses. Slipping on his ring, leather wrist band and watch completes my transformation into Will Witt. I adjust my hair using his Cremo hair cream—Will is always fussing with his hair. Staring in the mirror, I only see Will Witt, just as he was traveling first class earlier. I grin at myself as I adjust my shirt cuffs and admire my looks. I do his usual MOTS intro flawlessly – “What’s Up Guys”. From this moment on, I’m Will Witt and no one will have a clue I’m not. 

My iPhone buzzes in my suit pocket, it’s Will’s girlfriend, Lisa calling. 

“Hey Lisa, I just got in the door babe.” I answer watching myself in the mirror, smiling and playing Will flawlessly.

“I thought you would be, I’ve missed you so much Will.” She whispers seductively.

“Same, may I take you out for dinner?” I ask as charmingly as Will does, remembering their conversation from a day ago, and Will promising dinner and a surprise.

“I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, Let’s dress up and go someplace nice. I’ll wear a suit and tie.” This gives me the afternoon to get settled into my new life. 

“Okay Will, can’t wait.”

“Bye Babe.” Will’s cutesy name he uses for all his girlfriends.

‘It’s show time’ I think to myself. I head back to my brother who’s finally starting to stir from the chloroform. I start slapping his face and he becomes more aware.

“Wake up Willy, Willy wake up.” I say playfully. 

He looks confused, slowly recognizing me, his eyes bug out, then starts to struggle. “But you’re dead?”

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Don’t struggle bro, you’ll only hurt yourself.” I laugh at him.

“What’s going on Willy? Why are you in my clothes?”

“From now on, please call me Will and they’re now my clothes. I just got back from London and I’m really jet lagged.” I stand proudly, straighten my tie then reach into my breast pocket for my new wallet.

“Asshole, what do you think you’re doing?” he yells and gets pissed as he’s now fully awake.

“Well, remember when you planted drugs in my locker, turned me into the school principle and ruined my life?”

“Yeah, that was a good one! They all bought it too. Got rid of you for good.” He laughs.

 “Well, laugh all you want.  I’m borrowing your life.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Whatever you are planning, won’t work.” He predicts.

“Well I’m taking Lisa out to dinner tonight to celebrate my return. In other words, I need pussy but Will doesn’t talk like that. Let me rephrase it – I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner and hopefully make love to her. Better?”  I leaf through my wallet checking it out, pulling out the debit card. “Bro, is your PIN still 8991? I may need some cash for my date. You only have a $40 in here.”

By the look on his face, I know he never changed is PIN. “Thanks bro, just needed to confirm that.” 

“She’ll know you’re not me, don’t even try it.”

“Bro, you’re talking to the guy who fooled all your girlfriends in high school. You’ve been dating her for what? About 6 weeks after meeting her at Jen’s last party where you got wasted and don’t remember getting home.”

“You’ve been reading my private diary?” 

“Well, you could say it’s my diary. So, I was just reviewing my life for the past few years.” I laugh at him. “Which brings me to a new issue – where should I take her for dinner, and do afterwards?”

“Fuck yourself.” He yells.

“Bro, I’m hoping to fuck her, not myself. You don’t want me to do something brash, ‘unWill like’ and ruin your relationship do you? I bet she doesn’t even know you have a twin brother, am I right?” I laugh at him. 

“Willy, what are you doing? Just untie me and I’ll forget this ever happened. I promise.” Trying to soften me up.

“Let’s get this straight, for the time being, I’m Will Witt, you’re nothing, don’t call me that again.” I yell at him. “Now, you’re going to help me be you or I’m going to really fuck up your life. You know I can do it. If you lie to me, there will be repercussions. Do not test me.”

“Okay.” He responds defeated.

“Okay, what?” I demand.

“Okay Will. Lisa loves Italian and there’s this little family owned restaurant called ‘Papa Joe’s’ near her house. She loves it and so do I. That’s where I was planning on taking her tonight. I always get the ‘Lombardo’ dish with an ice tea of course.” He answers defeated. 

“That’s good information bro, I really appreciate that.” I watch his face and have always been able to tell when he was lying. “What after that? What are her limits?  I need everything to be you with her. Give me the full history.”

He proceeds to tell me everything I need to know about Lisa – at least I hope so. 

“Now I need details about my job.  I know where you work, and what you do but more details about the people, office layout, where your office is and how I get in?” He gives me looks that could kill. “What’s up guys?” I mock him with his catch phrase. 

“My work ID badge gives me complete access anytime. It’s in the front pocket of my backpack. I have an office on the second floor, just left as you get out of the elevator. My name is on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“What do you do when you first get there, in the morning? Routine? Pals? Coffee? conference room? Where do you go for lunch? I need it all Willy. You don’t want me to mess up your perfect little life, do you?” I subtly threaten him.

Once I pump him for everything, I grab the bag from the corner, pull out a needle and inject him. He screams at me for about two minutes then become docile. I walk him to the bathroom and order him to relieve himself. Once secured back in his chair, I give him dose of Midazolam that will keep him out for 12 hours and put a ball gag in his mouth. I shut and lock the bedroom door, head back to my master bedroom finishing my unpacking. 

I slip easily into Will’s routine.  My shirts and suits will go to my cleaner per the receipts in the Porsche, the rest go into the washer. Carefully tucked inside his luggage is his new Saville Row Huntsman, a few new dress shirts and the Big Ben charm I bought Lisa in London. I can’t help but try on the new suit, admiring the fit and material. I head downstairs and see Will’s work backpack he has with him all the time. I take it down to the studio office and start going through the content…. A few cameras, my passport, iPad and MacBook Pro.  There’s a printout of my next Prager assignments and hand notes he made in the margins. I find his work ID, clip it to my suit, repack his backpack and head to the office. 

A DAY IN THE LIFE

I’ve followed Will to Prager U but have never stepped foot inside. I pull into an empty parking lot, and park in his assigned spot. Will says no one is ever there but he sometimes goes in to get a jump on Monday. My ID badge opens the main door. I easily find his office and make myself at home. On the wall I notice the signed photograph of Reagan that dad treasures and wonder how Will has it. I plop my backpack on the chair next to my desk and start exploring. I open my MacBook and it starts syncing with the LAN. I easily log in and upload my videos as Will does after all his events, according to his logs.  

I explore the entire building and everything is as he described – Boss’ office, video production, media center, studio, executive conference room etc. I confidently walk around taking in the names of my coworkers. In the men’s room, I smile at Will in the mirror and clean out my coffee mug. 

Back in the office, I settle into my desk and go thru my drawers, check my work email and respond to some.  I hear someone coming up the stairs, calling my new name, approaching my office.  I recognize it immediately as Will’s producer and friend – Mike.

“In here.” I yell out to him.

He pops his head around the corner. “Welcome back, how was your flight?”

“Uneventful, good to be home but jet lag.” I casually answer.

“My flight yesterday was delayed an hour from Chicago but not too bad.”

I heard their last conversation before Will took off this am, and continued it. “I’m good with the final edits from MOTS, just uploaded it so Alexander can add the graphics.” 

I pull up the video, knowing Will made a few cuts on the flight over, and show it to him.  

“You’ve been busy man, looks great. You want to grab lunch?” 

“Sure, you drive and pick.” I can’t resist the thought of testing my ‘Will skills’. 

Mike takes me to ‘In & Out’ for burgers.  He doesn’t suspect a thing, readily accepting me as his friend and coworker.  We talk about the trip, work and future trips. I feel as if I was actually there. He drops me off and I head back to my office and continue to familiarize myself with everything for a few more hours. 

My big test will be ‘my’ girlfriend Lisa.  I stay in Will’s slick outfit, donning his favorite Ray-Bans for the drive. She’s waiting for me outside and jumps into my car. Her unexpected full tongue kiss surprises me but I quickly adjust and give her full tongue back. We make out for a minute then I take her to Papa Joe’s.  Will was telling the truth, Lisa lights up as I pull in front and valet the Porsche. I use my brother’s pics, diary, blogs and text messages to talk about my London trip. When desert comes, I spring the Big Ben charm on her. She leans in tenderly, kisses me deeply and invites me to spend the night. 

At her place, we strip and jump right into bed.  In minutes, she’s moaning as I work her pussy, slowly penetrating it with the tip of my head. She starts moaning softly ‘oh Will, oohhh Will’ making me harder, pushing deeper into her as she climaxes. I explode in her, then collapse onto my back as she curls up under my arm and we fall to sleep.  She wakes me up with a blow job and homemade pancakes – Will’s favorite she notes. I’m not a big pancake fan but eat them eagerly as Will would. I’ve replaced Will completely and now have his sexy girlfriend. 

DAY TWO

I check on Willy when I get home and he’s starting to stir. My schedule today calls for video editing at Prager U with Gavi and Mike. I take a quick shower put on an outfit that screams ‘preppy conservative’ – which isn’t difficult as that’s all Will has in his closet, making my job easy. 

I pop my head in to the bedroom and see that he’s wide awake.

“Morning sunshine.” I cheerfully say.

“Let me the fuck out of these straps now!” he mumbles as I remove the ballgag.

“Sure thing, but first a little shot so you can take a dump and eat a little something. Hungry?”

“No, don’t drug me, it’s a fucking weird feeling.” He pleas.

“Sorry man, I can’t chance you getting free and having a fake Will running around.”

“You’re the fake Will, ass wipe.” He screams.

“Hmmm Lisa and Mike didn’t think so.  I ran into Mike in the office yesterday while uploading my latest VLOG and MOTS video, then had lunch with him.  He’s a good friend of mine. Oh, and Lisa… Damn did I hit her sweet spot last night as she moaned my name softly in my ears. She really loved the Big Ben charm I got her and the ‘Big Will’ I gave her. I think I’m in love bro.” I grab my crotch so he knows what I’m talking about. 

“You fucking bastard!!  Fucking asshole!! You’ll be caught. You can’t slip into my life that easily.” He screams.

“Now, now, Willy.  Guess you didn’t notice the video and audio bugs I installed throughout my new condo or the keystroke tracker on your computers. I’ve been catching up with you since Stanford. Your condo manager was gracious enough to give me a key after you lost it.” I run and grab my iPad and play some of the videos for him, then I show him the cloned phone and play his last conversation with Mike. 

“Guess I don’t need this cloned phone any longer. I have to admit, you’re quite the busy person. Your phone never stops ringing and beeping but don’t worry, I’m keeping up.”

“Fuck you Willy!  When I get free, you’re going to jail or worst.”

“If you get free, which I doubt. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bolted to the floor. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have new carpet installed at some point. Nice thing bro – between my bank account and yours, I’m quite wealthy with a lot of future potential. In fact, after this gig, I’m thinking of running for office. Dad would love it and back me financially.”

He mutters. “Fucker.”

“Hey bro, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your life. Enjoying it immensely, especially Lisa. She really knows how to wake me up but I’m not big on the pancakes.”

He thrashes back and forth in the chair screaming more obscenities at me.

 “Bro, seriously, how do I look? Do you approve my work outfit? I’ve noticed this sport coat is one of your favorites. Oh, and my new suit from London fits great and feels incredible. I just had to try it on.” I taunt him while adjusting my shirt sleeves and checking my watch.

“What are you doing here?” he quietly demands.

“Well the drug career pays quite well but is extremely dangerous.  After seeing you at Stanford, I decided a career change was necessary. Don’t you agree it’s a good career move?”

“You’ll never fool them for long.  There are things only I could know. You’ll tripped up.  What about mom and dad?”

“Are you serious?” I laugh out loud. “Mom and dad could never tell us apart, you know that. I did visit the house while you were in London and from the pictures displayed, it looks like I, Will, am an only child. They’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh, they’ll know you’re not me.”

“Why would they? Just look at me bro. I was always a better you than you, when I wanted to be. I do have to get fully up to speed with my new life, friends and girlfriend but that’s what all my new drugs are for. I kind of like your style so I’ll only wear what you already have in your closet.  I’m enjoying your preppy style. I think I’m rocking the Will look, you have to admit it.” I tug on my sleeves not interested in his rants.

“What about work?” He counters.

“Oh bro, that’ll be easy too. I’ve watched all your videos – the work and personal, edited and unedited. I taught myself iMovie to edit my MOTSs for uploading. I’ve seen you brainstorm with Mike on MOTS topics and question. It’s amazing how we even think alike politically. I’m ahead of schedule for today.  Like the anal person you are, I was in the office all afternoon while you were sleeping. I cleaned out my scummy coffee mug, organized my desk and left a note for Alexander on the graphics I’d like to see before the end of today. I can’t wait to meet the boss, have been a fan of his for years.”

“You can’t be me!” He slumps his shoulder in deeper defeat. 

“I am you, no one will have a clue I’m not.” 

I inject him with truth serum and a powerful muscle relaxer.  By the time I come back with breakfast, he’s docile and defeated. A few protein bars, quick trip to bathroom and he’s safely secured again. The truth serum is remarkable. I have a totally different discussion with him.

“Hey bro, how do I look? You like?” I spin around to model my outfit.

“I’ve worn that exact outfit before I think.”

“Thank you, now see, it wasn’t too hard to be nice, now was it?”

He spills his guts to me about all his coworkers, and what he thinks of them. While he’s drugged, I hit him up on family issues and his feelings towards me. He basically threatens to kill me and will since I’m already dead. It’s been on his mind since he woke up chained to the chair. I snicker to myself, knowing he’s the one who’s days are numbered. It’s almost time for work today, so I knock him out for another 12 hours.

My first day of work is a breeze.  I visit Alexander and review the graphics I want. Mike and I review the schedule and brainstorm future MOTSs and VLOGs. Will has the easy part and probably makes the most money. Prager’s staff writes his MOTS questions and helps him with upcoming speeches. He provides the topic, they handle it from there. Will was good enough to do my outline for his University of Texas speech next week. I turn them in and talk to Marissa, our content producer. I have the best gig – I just need to be the hip preppy conservative face of Prager U and get to travel all around the world. 

When I’m leaving Marrisa’s office, I run into Dennis Prager, the president of Prager University. He puts his arm around me and leads me back to his office.

“Will, good to see you, how was London? I just saw your rough video and it’s great”

“Thank you, Mr. Prager. London was great.” I respond and his face immediately looks puzzled.

“Since when am I Mr. Prager?”

“Dennis, sorry it just came out. I’m still out of sorts with jet lag and the British are so formal.”  I try to recover.

“I understand boy, plus you probably had too much wine and cigars I’m sure.”

“I sure did. I brought a few Charatan Robustos back with me” I chuckle knowing their conversations about them and using them to solidify my identity.

“And you’re not sharing? Will, Will, Will, how could you?” 

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow.” 

“Let’s grab lunch son.” 

I can’t believe I’m having lunch with Dennis Prager. He’s thrilled with ‘my’ work, wants me to do more TV appearances like Fox & Friends but also liberal networks. My ratings are through the roof. I talk about my London trip, showing him pics of my parents and selfies I took. We talk politics, going back and forth on issues. We get back to the office and I easily fit in and learn the ropes. By the end of the day, I’m very pleased with my new life. I pass on happy hour claiming I’m still of out sorts due to jet lag. 

CHECKING IN

Back home I check Willy. He’s awake but groggy.

“What’s up guy? How was your day?” I ask cockily as I strut in.

“How do you think, you sick fuck.”

“So sorry to hear that. My day was awesome. My latest VLOG and MOTS are killing it. I had lunch with my friend Dennis and he wants me to do more TV spots. It was probably the best day of your life, I mean my life.”

“My life! You fucker, my life.” He screams with pure rage.

“Wow bro, you smell. We’ll have to get you a shower but first I need to change. Be right back.”

I run to my closet and throw on a pair of running shorts and a Prager t-shirt. I keep my cell phone on me as it’s been going off all day. When I get back to Willy, he starts yelling at me.

“What are you up to? Did you get me fired? The truth, you owe me that at least.”

I laugh. “Now why would I mess up my career bro?”

“It’s my life and career. You’re going to pay for this you fucking asshole.” He continues to rant. 

“I’ve had enough of you already.” I grab the ball gag, shove it in his mouth and he starts thrashing again. My phone rings, it’s Mike calling.

“Hey Mike, What’s up?” Willy’s eye light up watching me.

“No, I’m fine, it was just jetlag and you know me…I tried all the beers and cigars in the pubs…Yeah buddy…thanks for your concern.”  I hang up and look at Willy. “Hey that Jetlag excuse will be good for another few days till I get the groove completely.”

He starts mumbling again but the phone rings again with Lisa calling. 

“Hey babe, how was your day?” I sincerely ask. Willy starts squirming and getting louder. 

“Hey babe, hang on, I’ve got my producer calling.” I put her on hold, walk over to Willy and gut punch him with all my force. I impale him and he shuts up.

“Sorry babe, did I thank you for last night?...Oh yeah, I’d love to but I’ve got a lot to catch up with…My parents are coming back Wednesday from their European vacation and we’re suppose to do dinner Thursday? Would love for you to meet them….Okay… love ya.” 

“Bro, see how easy this gig is for me? I still need you for some additional information like the combination to the safe in your office.” He stares at me but is keeping quiet. I grab my little box of drugs and mellow Willy out.  A quick shower, shit and change of clothes and he’s back in his chair. I feed him a sub and water that he quickly inhales. 

“Now Willy, what’s the number to my safe?”

“Go fuck yourself.” he mumbles.

“Willy, you know I could give you some truth serum or beat it out of you.”

“17858” he spits out as in disgust. 

I head down to his safe and open it up.  Inside is a gun, his birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of other seemingly important papers. I grab it all and take head up to review with Willy.

“Nice Glock Willy, let’s review what’s in my safe and why it’s there. Some quality bonding time. Most of this I know but the rest?”  I ask nicely.

“My contract with Prager U, noncompete, mom & dad’s will, my will, some stocks dad gave me.”

I leaf through it, reading it all and ignoring Willy. In between docs, I feed him some granola bars from the kitchen. I play with the unloaded gun in front of him, on purpose. I’ll have a use for it soon.

“Ok brother, more work questions. There’s ‘PR shots’ on calendar for tomorrow afternoon. What’s with that?”

“Joel, our CMO set them up.  It’s just ‘glamour’ pics for his new marketing campaign.”

“Oh, so that’s what my new suit is for I’m guessing. The email to Joel saying you’re all set after you bought it?”

“Yeah, please don’t fuck things up for me Willy. I’ve worked hard this past year.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Will.” I gut punch him again.

“I’m sorry Will.” He cries in pain.

“That’s better Willy. So, tell me what to expect.”

“Easy, take suit to work, some of my shirts, ties and jewelry.  Collette in our makeup will take care of the rest. Just smile and do what they tell you in front of the camera.” he answers, still in pain.

“Shoes?”

“The black derbies I had on yesterday, I bought for shoot specifically, wanted them broken in. Doesn’t matter though – they only shoot from waist up.”

“Now that’s more like it. Don’t fight me, help me so I don’t fuck up your life.” as if he’s ever getting it back, I think to myself. 

“Yes Will.”

HANGING WITH FRIENDS

“Now, my friend Tommy wants to go out tonight, grab dinner. What would ‘Will’ do?” 

“He wants to do 71Above – it’s the highest restaurant west of the Mississippi. Tricia, his friend is host there and can get us in. Very high end, suit and tie required.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” I correct him. “What were you going to wear?”

“There’s a black Tom Ford suit with a red lapel pin on it, I’ve only worn it once for a few hours. White shirt and any tie.”

“Oh yes, my outfit from the Prager gala where I played ‘blue moon’ on the piano. What tie, what shirt?” I demand.

He looks at me shocked. “There’s a new gold paisley tie, white spread collar shirt with cufflinks.”

“Why thank you brother. I better go and get ready.” I shove another granola bar in his mouth.

I easily assemble the outfit he was going to wear. After all my spying, I’m sure I would have selected something as tasteful. I skip the gold paisley and decide on a ‘men in black’ look, almost exactly as he had on at the gala. A quick shower, 20 minutes with my hair and another 20 to dress and I’m still 36 minutes early for Tommy.

“How do I look Willy? Now be honest.” I ask walking into the bedroom.

He checks me out head to toe. “You look good Will. You’re wearing my good watch?”

“My good watch brother, remember? You wore your smaller ring at the gala but I stuck with what I had on coming back from London. I think I looks great. Went with the gold black onyx cufflinks. And dude I even had my name embossed inside the suit, sweet!” I open up my jacket.

“You’ve been watching my videos.” He realizes.

“Of course, and reading your diary, all the way back to when dad drove me to ‘New Starts’ and abandoned me. I’m good Willy, been watching you for a month.”

Just then my phone rings in breast pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Tommy.

“Now keep quiet Willy or you know what’ll happen.” I warn him as I answer. “What’s up Tommy? On your way…yeah early is good, I’m ready… Okay, that sounds good, see you soon.”

“Please don’t drug me bro, I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Sorry Willy, can’t take any chances. Besides, Tommy mentioned about having a drink when he gets here. Sounds like it’s routine for you guys. What does he drink?”

“Rum and Coke, lots in the fridge just for him.”

I grab the knock out needle and give him a dose.  He doesn’t fight me at all.

“Why thank you bro. I’ll see you later tonight maybe, if you’re awake.” I laugh as I leave and lock the door. 

Tommy walks in without knocking, making his way to my bar as I make my way down the stairs. He sees me and lifts the glasses.

“The usual?” 

“Sure, sounds good to me.”  he’s right at home, grabbing the rum and coke.

“Cheers!” he hands me one, we clink glasses and swig.

I follow Tommy’s lead the entire evening but I know enough about Will to discuss his trip, girlfriend and work. Tommy talks about his auditions for a few movies and a commercial. Sadly for him, I’m a bigger celebrity than he is, as a few people ask for my autograph while waiting to be seated. Tricia has seats for us right next to the window with the best view of LA. It a fun night as a few of Tricia’s friends join us. It’s easy playing Will and his friends. I have everything put on my tab. Thank god he has an early audition for a new Marvel movie, so we leave and I’m home by midnight. 

MORE WORK

I’m up early but Willy is out cold still. He looks like death, probably from all the injections and being upright on the chair for days. Not that I really care as it gives me more ‘Will Time’. To keep in character, I put on some of his work out gear, grab my iPod and do my usual run around the park. I work up quite the sweat but it probably helps with all the alcohol Tommy and I consumed. I check on Willy and he’s now awake and not happy. A quick injection allows me to get him relieved and toss him in the shower. He’s not putting up any resistance so I give him breakfast, leave him in the tub but making sure to securely handcuff him to a grip bar. I take my morning shower in the same shower so I can keep an eye on him.

Willy is so beaten that he’s stopped resisting completely and is cooperative even. Believing that by helping me, I’ll get what I want from him and leave him to his old life. What he’s doing is sealing his fate faster. Once I no longer need him, we’ll head up to my parent’s cabin in the mountains and he’ll be fertilizer. 

After I towel off, I sit on the toilet seat next to Willy.

“How you feeling Willy?” I ask trying to sound concerned.

“Please Will, can I stay here in the tub all day? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think I can do that but you have to be knocked out. But sure thing. Tommy is a fun guy bro. He sure loves his rum & cokes. We had a blast. I think he was hurt that women were coming up to me for my autograph but not him.”

“Yeah, that’s happened before when we’re out.” He looks really down.

“What is it bro? you look sad.”

“What do you think? I’m chained up and I can’t believe people are falling for your act.” he gets a little feisty.

“Come on bro, how could they not think I was anybody but Will Witt? Don’t worry, no one suspects a thing, so we’re good but I need your help with today’s schedule – sorta of ‘what would Will do’ session just to make sure I don’t fuck anything up for you. Okay?”

“Sure Will, it’s what I live for.” he responds sarcastically.

“How do you come up with the topics for your MOTSs?” 

“Who do you think? Dad, you know how opinionated he is. When we had dinner in London, he rattled off six topics for me to cover and things he’d ask these snowflakes.”

“Ah I thought you sounded a lot like dad when interviewing people. That explains the notes on your iPad. By the way, I’m having dinner with the rents Friday night, having them meet Lisa.”  I just smile at him. “Now about today’s pics, what should I wear? ‘What would Will wear’?”

“We’ve been through this – my new bespoke suit.”

“Exactly what you’d wear today – into the office and for the shoot. I’m just trying to help you Willy.”

“Dennis is always pushing for me in more suits and ties, to be taken more seriously outside the campus forum. Keep it simple – black button down shirt, my charcoal brooks brothers suit. For the shoot, the bespoke of course and take all my new dress shirts and ties, many pairs of cufflinks. I love my gold paisley tie, the one you wore last night. Hopefully you didn’t ruin it.”

“No, I went with a black tie, so the paisley is fine.”

“There’s a large suit bag in the back of my closet that can hold everything you’ll need.’

“I have to tell you bro, I’m gaining a real appreciation for your closet. My tastes have really matured in the past months. What’s with the glasses though?”

“They’re for eye strain bro, giving my eyes a break now from the contact lenses. I also wear them for important interviews or meetings where I want to look more mature and smarter.”

“Well your glasses and contacts work great for me too. My eyes have been changing but I never had them checked. Now, what about the shoot? Who’s going to be there?  How does it work? What does Will do?” I press him.

“It’s a larger version of my down stair studio. Someone will come get me when it’s my turn, take me to changing room, then make up, then to the set – green screen. It’s easy really.  There’ll be people in and out all day long.”

“People like who?”

“Candace, Charlie Kirk, Dave Rubin, Guy Benson and many others.  It’ll be a few days of craziness.”

“Nice!  Do I have any nicknames or personal things with any of them?  Like, how do you address Candace? or Charlie?” He stutters and hesitates. “Spill it or more drugs. Besides, you don’t want me to fuck up anything with your friends now do you?”

“Candace is ‘Candy’ jokingly, she’s getting married in a few weeks.” He continues with the others. I’ll use the information but it sounds childish – something a more mature, evolving Will would never use.  I’ll phase that nonsense out. 

“Good to know. Thanks. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I grin at him.

Dennis Prager alluded to my evolving image during lunch and that I should be wearing more conservative outfits. I agree completely with the boss and love the image. With that in mind, I ignore Willy’s suggestion and go ultra conservative. I remember a beautiful light blue shirt with white contrasting collar and cuffs that ‘I’ve’ worn a few times. It would be ultra conservative with my gray Brooks. 

In Will fashion, I lay out my work outfit on the bed, adding all the details. When I’m satisfied, I pull it on my underwear and socks, pull on my pants.  After I add the belt, I pull on the Brooks shirt.  To keep with the Brooks theme, as Will likes to do, I select the Brooks tie that he wore previously. The whole image screams ultra conservative and looks great. I add white gold cufflinks, his smaller ring and gold watch. I pull on the jacket and stare at myself in the mirror. I put some gel in my hair then fix it exactly as in the pic I found in an old MOTS video. Oh, almost forgot my tie clip. He’s famous on Instagram for his tie clips? I clip one on and it completes my image. I flash a Will smile and fingers. “What’s Up Guys?”. 

I must have nailed the look because when I entered the toilet, Willy’s mouth dropped. In the bathroom mirror, I admire myself, tug on my cuffs and adjust my tie. I don’t say a word.

“Well aren’t you Will Witt.” He comments snidely but I ignore him for a few more minutes as I run my hand thru my hair.

“Who else would I be?” I turn around to face him. “What’s Up Guys, Will Witt for Prager U.” flash my peace sign to him, pretending I’m holding a microphone.

“Probably a better choice for today. No pocket square Will?” 

“Oh shit, totally didn’t notice.”

“In drawer under jewelry box.”  He answers me without even asking. I run to his closet, find a nice silk white one neatly folded in a square. I tuck it in my suit pocket and check myself out in the mirror quickly.

“Better?” He’s silent.

I pull out his preppy glasses and put on and off. “Glasses, no glasses?” I look at him.

“I don’t care, up to you.” 

“Know what, think I’ll have pics taken both ways. I think they make me look older, which would kill my ‘frat boy’ image on college campuses but might help me with the older generation.” I turn to look at his expression but he looks broken. “I love this suit bro, it fits me great. I made sure the knot was right by noting the length of the tie, and location of stripes. Not used to wearing one, almost forgot the tie clip – my fans would have blown up over such a faux pas.”

“True, they watch everything I post.”

“Ok bro, I need to get to work, busy day ahead. I’ll probably be late tonight because Mike wants to do Furley’s for happy hour. I’ll let you in the bathtub so you’re comfortable but how about something to help you sleep?”

“No don’t do that please, I’ll be good.” He begs.

I ignore him, grab the needle and knock him out for the day. 

I jump in my 911 and head in for another day in the life of Will Witt. The suit bag weighs about 30lbs and takes up the entire seat of my 911. Everyone accepts me and I keep learning more and more.  The lingo is coming naturally to me. The routine of emails, small talk and understanding my role is easy. 

I hang my suit bag and jacket on the back of my office door, grab my coffee mug and ease into the day.  Just before lunch, Nicki, one of the film staff comes for me – it’s my turn. I’m seated in in one of the dressing rooms, in a makeup chair, in front of the mirror. Collette comes in all smiles. 

“Will, you’re looking great.”

“You too, so let’s get started. I’ve got a lot to do today on top of these pics.”

“There’s something we’d like to do different this time.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, how about we cut your hair some?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Collette, it’s my signature, my “conservative with the best hair”.” Sounding uncertain for effect.

“Well, I was talking to Dennis and Joel, and we feel you should be the focus, not your hair. We’re not talking about shaving your head, just toning down the cowlick some. If you don’t like, it’ll be back in a few months.”

I think about it for a minute, running my hand through my cowlick, looking at Will in the mirror. I’ve seen videos where the wind destroys his giant flop, part of his gig but in the end, I nod in approval and let Prager U redo my image. 

The ‘Will’ PR shoot was so simple, but time consuming.  They brought in some famous stylist from West Hollywood to cut my hair – it took an hour! They went through my suit bag and laid out a number of outfits but didn’t question my taste. They took multiple pics of me in 5 different outfits including what I wore in this morning. I was there for hours. At the end of the day, we head to Furley’s as planned for happy hour. I left on my new suit and last outfit I was photographed in. What a happy hour – hanging with Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro and other famous conservatives was incredible. Thanks to Will’s unedited interview videos, I knew exactly what small talk he had with a number of these conservative celebrities and played them perfectly. 

When I get home, my first stop is to taunt Willy still tied up in bathtub.

“Hey bro, this suit is simply amazing. You were right, the shoot was really easy, except for having to change every 20 minutes. Like my haircut?” I tease

“What did you do to my hair?” 

“Willy, remember, it’s my hair. It’s a shorter, more mature, conservative cut. Everyone loves it.  I still have the best hair of any conservative. I texted it to mom and she loves it too.” I open up the iPhone and scroll thru pics from the shoot, then laugh and leave to change into sweats. Following the same routine, I inject Willy, help him to bathroom, feed him and put him to bed. In just a few days, he’s totally changed from being in control to being dependent. He’s definitely a shadow of himself but I’m now casting his shadow.

Every day as Will gets easier as I seamlessly take over his life.  I’m sure I’ve slipped up a few times but since no one knows Will has a twin, who would suspect me? Wednesday at work was incredible. I helped with the rest of the PR shoot, chatted with all of my new conservative friends. I especially liked talking to Dave Rubin and Candace Owens.  I had dinner with everyone that evening and it went really late. By the time I got home, Willy had wetted himself. I was so pissed that I shoved a hot pocket in his mouth, hosed him off and drugged him heavily. 

On Thursday Gavi and I do a man on the street, at Santa Monica Pier. I nailed it – quickly picking up Will’s attitude and methods. It was easy after watching all his videos from the past year. Back in the office I sit down with Gavi, edit his video and work with Alexander to add the graphics.  

Willy is awake when I get home. His eyes scan me from top to bottom then he starts yelling through the ball gag.

“Hang on Willy.” I pop out the ball gag.

“I hate you Willy and I’m done playing your game.” He spits and hits me on my shorts. 

I gut punch him with all my force, then inject him to keep him docile. “Now Willy, we’ll get you on the potty and fed quickly. I don’t have a lot of time, Lisa and I are going to dinner at mom and dad’s. I really like her.”

I get Willy settled, take a quick shower and head out to pick up Lisa. Dinner is a breeze as Lisa is the center of attention. There’s no discussion of Willy at all – just about me and how proud they are of everything I’m doing. As I expected, they were totally clueless I wasn’t their precious little Will. I have to admit, it felt great being home. I showed Lisa my old bedroom and got a BJ on Will’s bed. It was like old times, like his other girlfriends I fooled. Mom and dad announced they’re heading to Hawaii to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and ask me to watch the house while they’re gone. More time to get reacquainted with my new life as their loving son Will. I spend the night at Lisa’s but get up early to take care of things at home, then work.

Willy is awake and pissed more when I check in on him. 

“Morning Willy.” I cheerfully announce.

“You’re Willy asswipe.” He yells back.

I gut punch him with all my force. “Don’t make me repeat myself Willy, now who am I?”

“You’re Will, Will Witt.” He’s barely able to speak, I hit him so hard.

“Now that’s much better Willy. Let’s get you to the bathroom and fed.” I inject him and continue talking while it takes effect.

“So, mom and dad love Lisa bro.  I think she’s really falling for me.  She gave me a BJ in my old bedroom. Sadly, your old bedroom is now a workout room with no trace of you at all. I showed Lisa my swimming and track trophies, tried on my old letterman jacket and gave her the whole Will Witt history. Can you believe mom and dad are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary? I can’t!” I lay it on thick as the caring son that Will is. 

“Fuck off.” The mumbles.

“Oh Willy, don’t make me hurt you more.” I warn him. I can see the drugs have kicked in, and start untying him. Just as I loosen the last night, Willy tries a fast one on me, trying to tackle me to the floor.  I’ve wrestled him too many times and know his ‘plays’ and another gut punch and I’m dragging him into the bathroom. A quick shower, shit and breakfast bar and he’s good for another 12 hours.

Once he’s secured, I jump in shower and prep for another day in the office. Fridays are so routine with a team strategy meeting for upcoming projects/videos/content.  This is followed by lunch and office time till happy hour at Furley’s. After happy hour, I meet Lisa and a bunch of her friends out for more drinks and dancing, then back to her place.

END OF THE ROAD

I’m up early and skip out of Lisa’s, telling her I have some chores to do for my parents and I’ll be tied up all weekend. Willy is awake and thrashing about trying to get loose. I enter the bedroom smiling, and clap my hands.

“Willy, good news! Road trip bro! We’re going to the cabin to take care of some things for Dad. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He stares at me, blood shot eyes, a week of facial hair, looking like crap. “Good, could I sleep in one of the bunk beds?”

“Sure thing bro, then we’ll talk about next steps here.” He calms down, feeling better, probably thinking he’s getting his life back.  He’s not. 

I drug him, give him a shower, get him dressed and fed. The next morning, I get him ready for 4 hour trip to the cabin. The dosage I gave him should keep him out for most of the trip. I pack some clothes and fishing gear in case I get the urge. We leave at 5am to avoid any traffic. 

He sleeps the entire journey and I don’t stop once. I’m careful to drive the speed limit to not attract any attention from state police. I pull up to the cabin before 9am. There’s no one around, no one on the lake even – all peaceful and quiet.  With Willy securely tied up in the car, I walk around the cabin inspecting the place, reminiscing about our family outings and fishing trips. In the rear about 500 feet from the house is an old well that’s been dry for years. Dad has been talking about filling it in for safety for years, but never did. It’s the perfect place to hide a body.

When I get back to the car, Willy is stirring. I help him out of the car and walk him inside the cabin. 

“Will, untie me please. My arms and wrists are killing me.” He pleas.

“Sure thing.” Knowing he’s drugged still and couldn’t run anywhere or harm me. 

We walk out to the back porch and I hand him a coke and sandwich. He sits on the step eating and enjoying the partial view of the lake.  I laced the coke with enough fentanyl to kill him – he’ll just pass out and die peacefully. 

“So what’s the plan Will? I guessing this is it for me.  Am I right.” As he takes a large chug of the coke.

“Yeah that’s about it Willy.  You won’t feel a thing though, you’ll just fall asleep. Hope you enjoyed the coke, no after taste?”

“Nah, it tasted fine. You know I need a few cokes a day to keep the energy up.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had to adopt. You know Willy, I’ve always been a better you and this life is perfect for me. Don’t worry, I love my new life and have seamlessly integrated into it.  I’ll take good care of it.”

He’s in a daze now, the drug is kicking in. I help him up and over to an Adirondack chair near the fire pit.  He puts his head back and starts breathe erratically. Within minutes he stops breathing. I waste no time stripping and dumping him in the well. I grab a shovel and start shoveling dirt into the well until I can’t see any evidence. For good measure I add another foot of dirt on top of that. 

I’m exhausted after that, take a shower and dress in clean clothes. In town I grab a bite at Palmer’s diner – a dive with good food. As I’m sitting there finishing up with a piece of Apple pie, Rob Decker, an old friend of me and Will come up to me. He’s a local who owns a few small businesses, most inherited from his father. 

“Will! How are you man? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard. 

“Rob, good to see you! Dad asked me to check on the cabin and I needed a break from LA. I’m heading back to tomorrow.”

“Dude, got your gear?”

“Of course, was going to try the old creek before heading home.”

“I’ll join you, heck, even Tommy will go.  He’ll be thrilled to see you. He was talking about your videos on Facebook.”

“Sound great Rob, stop by tomorrow morning whenever.”

Back at the cabin, I start a campfire and relax. Once it’s burning good, I grab Willy’s clothes and toss it all in. I have an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and freedom now. I have a few beers and watch the fire slowly burn out. Sunday morning Rob and Tommy show up at 6am. They don’t even mention my brother Willy even though we were all friends growing up. We have a blast and they want to come to the big city and party with me soon.

I fly back late Sunday afternoon and clean up my condo – unmounting the chair, smoothing over the holes in my carpet, cleaning the bathroom and tossing out the rest of Willy’s clothes. I call Lisa and invite her to my place tomorrow night for dinner and love making.

Monday morning I’m in full Will Witt mode. I wake up and take my run, shower and fuss with my hair for 20 minutes. In keeping with Dennis’ wishes, I up my conservative appearance to match my new haircut. My new bespoke Saville Row suit anchors my identity as the only Will Witt. It’s teamed with my favorite blue Brooks Brothers shirt with white contrasting cuffs and collars.  I pair it with my new shoes and favorite tie I’ve worn a few times.  Joel loves my new attitude and appearance. At lunch, I pull a typical Will move – I escape to a nearby restaurant, hang out and work on my schedule as is habit. 

Life is great now. I have tons of friends and fans. Prager U is very lucrative and I’m in demand across the US and world for speaking appearances. No one suspects I’m not Will. I love the notoriety and acceptance. I even love my preppy wardrobe and new style. It’s grown on me and I’ll maintain it.  

[calicocatwrites]

Ass, Titty, Or Thighs?

Word Count: 1,970

Warnings: Talk of titties and ass, kind of a given, a little bit of swearing in Bakugou and Shinso’s.

Headcanon: Do the BNHA boys prefer ass, titties, thighs, or magical answer number 4?

Characters: Iida, Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya, Shinso

Author’s Note: Just my take on this idea, of course you can have different opinions than me, this is just what I think!

Tenya Iida:

This is a titty man.

Hear me out with this one.

He looks respectfully, obviously, this is Tenya Iida we’re talking about, but just the way they move has Iida in a different state of mind.

His favorite subject is jiggle physics (I will take myself out-).

Like, how do they move? Does it hurt? Fascinating, truly.

He doesn’t care what they look like, as long as they’re on you, the person he loves, he’s happy.

You’re watching TV in your dorm room when Iida furiously knocks on your door. Pausing your show, you get up and open the door for him.

“Hey, Iida! You need something?”

He quickly glances around your room, as if checking if someone is there, and stutters out his request.

“Ms. Y/N, i-is it ok if I may ask y-you a question I’ve prepared?”

Not seeing any harm in inviting him in, you gently crack open the door a bit more, gesturing for him to enter. Iida gladly takes the invitation and darts into your room. You sit back down on your bed, expecting him to do the same. However, Iida carefully stays standing, looking down at you. Silence starts to take its place in between the two of you, and you finally speak up.

“So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

“U-uh, y-y-eah, right. I w-was just wondering if I could a-ask you a question about-”

He cuts himself off, almost as if choosing his follow-up words very carefully.

“A-about your… chest area.”

Now it’s your turn to blush, although not nearly as much as he is. At this point it looks like he’s melting from sweat.

“Uh, yeah, you can, is something wrong?”

“N-no! I-it’s just that I w-w-was wondering i-if they work as… comfort. The tissue in breasts is noted to be much more flexible than average, and I assumed that would lead to them being s-softer than average, but does that mean that they hurt? I’d like to test my theory, o-of course not with my hands or anything! That would be extremely disrespectful and as Kirishima would say, ‘unmanly’, but maybe there’s… another way?”

It finally clicks.

“Iida, are you trying to lay on my boobs?”

“P-p-precisely.”

Laughing, you bring him over to lay down as he wanted, and unpause your show.

Katsuki Bakugou:

So we all unanimously agree this is an ass man, right?

If we’re all in agreement, I’ll continue.

But yeah, Bakugou just screams ass man.

He always has a hand in your back pocket when you go places, or stares at your ass when you’re wearing shorts (or even when you aren’t-)

Just like Iida, it’s jiggle physics, astounding.

He’ll buy you clothes that are specifically to show off your ass-

You get ready in your outfit, Bakugou wanting to take you to a new restaurant close to campus. It wasn’t anywhere fancy, just a sushi place, so you didn’t get dolled up or anything, just some leggings and one of Bakugou’s hoodies. You call over to Bakugou, checking if he’s ready to go, and when both of you have your shoes on, you take off to try some sushi.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, Bakugou instinctively goes to put his hand in your back pocket, something he always does when you’re out. However, you opted to wear leggings, something comfortable and easy to throw on.

“Y/N, back pocket, not there, what the fuck?”

“I didn’t wear jeans.”

“Well how is everyone supposed to know you’re mine?!”

“Babe, I’m wearing your hoodie.”

“Other people don’t know that’s my hoodie.

“Katsuki, your hand is literally on my ass.”

“Well you didn’t wear something with back pockets, where else am I supposed to put my hand?!?!”

Eijiro Kirishima:

t h i g h s

This man is the actual definition of a thigh man.

He lives for your soft thighs as opposed to his super muscular ones, you just balance him out perfectly, he loves you so much.

He loves laying on your thighs, in between your thighs, with his hand on your thighs, your thighs literally only exist to be perfect and for him.

Oh and the way certain pants compliment your thighs, he would literally buy you anything you want.

Constant thigh compliments, also little kisses on them.

You and Kirishima are just laying together in his dorm, you leaning on Kirishima's shoulder, watching videos pop up on Kirishimas For You Page. Suddenly, as if TikTok knew exactly who Kirishima was and what peaks his interest, a trend came up with a guy in between his girls thighs. Next video? Yep, a girl in between her girls thighs. As soon as the videos came up Kirishima looked at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you or anyone else on Earth had ever seen.

“Babe! Pleaaaase???”

“Not right now, baby.”

“Y/N, I’m four times stronger than you, this isn’t really up for discussion anymore.”

“KIRI-”

Before you know it, Kirishima has pinned you face up on the bed, and laid his head in between your thighs, snuggled up like a little baby in a crib.

“Kiri, I want to have a blanket on my legs, y’know.”

“Then put one on, I can’t be suffocated by sheets if my breath is taken away by your beauty.”

He’s not budging, and will probably fall asleep like that.

Shoto Todoroki:

The next three boys are ‘magical answer number 4’ boys.

This, my friends, is a hand man.

Ah ah ah, hear me out. He loves comparing hand sizes because it makes him feel loved, no matter if your hand is bigger, smaller, or the exact same size, he just likes the feeling of bonding in a loving way.

He loves hand-holding and painting nails (yes, he lets you paint his nails, he also likes painting yours), little hand actions.

He absolutely adores tracing your hands, the outline and any scars, freckles, or crevices. He likes his hands traced as well.

It’s just such a sweet, innocent action.

You and Todoroki are just sitting in his dorm, eating cold soba he got dropped off at the house. You have little trays and are eating on his bed, just talking about whatever comes to mind. Suddenly, Todoroki finds a fitting topic he wants to talk about.

“Your hands are really nice.”

It’s a weird thing to come up with out of the blue, so you just casually dismiss it, a quick ‘thank you’, and more bites of food. Todoroki isn’t really ok with you just ending the conversation like that though, so he takes a more forward approach.

“Y/N, can I hold your hand?”

“Shoto, I need my hands to eat.”

“No, you only need one hand.”

Realizing you aren’t gonna win this battle, you slowly place your hand near him, which he swoops in and takes almost immediately. He starts tracing the outline and shape of your hand, then your wrist, then any scars or freckles, then any little crack or crevice in your hand, sometimes going over your knuckles.

“Shoto, are you going to eat your food or just look at my hands all day?”

“My food will be fine, not like it’s going to get cold, it’s cold soba.”

Yeah, he goes for the later of your suggestions.

Izuku Midoriya:

Ass? Nah. Titty? Nah. Thigh? Nah.

Tummy.

Midoriya loves your stomach, no matter what it looks like, no matter the size, or if there’s scars there, it doesn’t matter.

He likes to pepper kisses all over your belly, and holds you around your waist whenever he can.

He likes laying on your stomach, and falling asleep like that (more than he likes to admit-)

It’s just a beautiful thing, and he loves your belly so much.

You decided to wait for Midoriya in his dorm to surprise him, he went out training today, so you thought it would be nice to see him when he gets back, even if he is tired and desperately needs a shower. Finally, when he’s half an hour late and you’re about to call him to make sure he’s ok and safe, Midoriya stumbles through the door and into his dorm, where you lay on his bed, patiently waiting for his arrival.

“‘Zuku, you’re back, finally! I was getting worried.”

“Y-Y/N! Hey! Y-you should’ve told me you were here, I would’ve finished training faster.”

“Oh, it’s ok!”

Midoriya walks over to his bed, and, exhausted from training, gently flops onto his bed, placing his head on your belly.

“Um, baby, do you want me to move so you can lay on the bed and not… on me?”

“Hm? No reason to, I’ve got my favorite pillow right here, u-unless this bothers you! Then I can totally get up and relocate.”

“No no no, it’s fine, Izuku. Just go to sleep, you’re probably tired from training for such a long time.”

Midoriya gently closes his eyes, and you carefully play with his hair, petting it every so carefully, like it’s a glass vase tilting on an uneven surface, a wrong move and everything breaks. After a while, you hear soft snores coming from your boyfriend, and decide it’s probably best if you fall asleep too.

Hitoshi Shinso:

Kind of a stretch, hear me out.

Eyes man.

This man absolutely loves your eyes. No matter the color, shape, whatever, he just loves eyes.

How they seem to light up when you’re excited, and how they look in that one specific kind of sunlight that makes the whole world shine like gold and bronze.

He loves holding eye contact and doing your eye makeup, even if it looks bad.

Eyes are the gateway to the soul, and Shinso strongly agrees with that.

You and Shino are out at the park. The sun hasn’t quite started setting, but it will soon, in about a half-hour. Shinsou took you out to have a picnic, where he bought ramen noodles and cake and sushi for you guys to eat. Unbeknownst to you, he also brought black eyeliner, makeup remover, and a little gold eye makeup product. Granted, he had no idea how to use them, but maybe today he could learn. After you’ve both eaten, the sun is starting to set, making the whole world almost as beautiful as you, he whips out the cosmetics and explains his plan.

“Y/N, I want to try doing your eye makeup. Can I?”

It takes a good amount of time to process his request, but you agree and let him give it a shot. Laying down, he carefully crawls on top of you, pulls out the eyeliner, and focuses only on your eyes. As much as he wants to pay attention to the eyeliner applicator, for a brief moment he gets caught up in how beautiful your eyes look in the light, and slips up.

“Shit, I messed up.”

“It’s ok! Just take some makeup remover on a Q-Tip and try again, babe.”

After a couple slip ups, he finally gets the eyeliner and the little gold shimmer on your eyes, and brings you up to your feet so you’re both standing.

“Wow, you look incredible.”

“Thank you, Shinso, you look great too.”

He pecks your cheek, packs up the picnic, and you two are on your merry way, Shinso excited to look at your eyes again and again, grateful to call you his significant other.

[fy-2pm]

[TRANS] 2PM's Junho 'ESQUIRE' Interview

Summer 2021, Drunk in Junho

The hot and gentle story Junho and I shared with "W by Windsor"

Q: The book "If Our Language is Whiskey" by Haruki Murakami is chosen for the shooting with "W by Windsor" (Hereinafter "W"). It's the perfect combination for a "Whiskey trip" to Scotland and Ireland with the 100% Scottish "W."

JH: This will be interesting. I like reading books. I've been reading a lot lately.

Q: What kind of book do you usually read?

JH: I don't have a favorite reading here. I try to read different kinds of genre and not just focus on a specific genre. Recently, I am into how to handle diseases and death. I read a variety of books. It feels good to know something. If I know about a certain topic, when we talk, we can share our opinions. Even while I was in the army, I don't want to miss the trend so I read more at that time.

Q: You read more during your army. Did anything change since you were discharged?

JH: It's been more than 100 days since my discharge and it's been really hectic. These were the busy days that I've missed, but I managed to adjust really quickly without any hard feelings. It feels like there is no empty space. I don't think I have changed a lot but I think my mindset has changed a bit. Comparing with the past, I want to treat everything more leisurely. I don't want to feel the rush, the struggle or under attack. I just want to do things step by step. That kind of feeling? I think the people around me can see this feeling too.

Q: That's right. 2PM members said "Junho has a hot temper"

JH: When I say I will do something, I will do it right away. I've achieved a lot because of this personality. However, as I look back to myself, there are times when I think if I should have thought about a little more.

Q: During the "Army hiatus" you received a nickname 'My House Junho'. When you find out, how did you react?

JH: It was at autumn 2019 when I just started serving. Because I really miss the stage, I've been looking up 2PM and my own videos. I could see that the number of views for "My House Junho" has increased gradually. I just thought, 'This will come to a stop soon'. It's like an event.

Q: It's a video but there are some interesting comments. It feels like a playground.

JH: It's becoming like a community. In there, it feels like you are competing with each other to see who can write something more interesting. It's amazing. One of the most memorable commend said, "I only realize what is spring after the flowers fell." It sounds sad but feels good. (Note: This is a common Korean phrase meaning I only realized something or someone is good after he/she it's gone)

Q: Spring has come again. You have come again.

JH: It means that we were like flowers. But ironically, I don't think we are gone yet.

Q: The more you think about it, the more touching this is.

JH: I think "My House" received a lot of love not because of algorithm or luch, but because fans have real interest in the song. Just by sharing the video, clicking to view and leaving comments, there are all hard work by fans. This is making it fun and we came across a situation where we can do this all over again. Thank you very much.

Q: It becomes a famous "Icon of Hard Work" and it's seeing the light.

JH: For whatever it is, my personality is to try to achieve it. At one point in time, I thought making an effort itself is difficult. After living like this for a long time, I got used to it and now, I don't think of it as making an effort anymore. I've been working hard on my exercise and die but this just become part of my daily life. But I do think about, 'How much long do I have to do this?' (Laugh).

Q: I think you're a person who will not give up. Junho played the role of Dong-Woo in the movie <Twenty>, where he gave up his dream and said, "Do you know how hard it i to give up?" Not giving up is hard but giving up is hard, too.

JH: I haven't really thought about give up. But if I do give up, I am going to give it up entirely so that I won't remember what happened. To the extreme where is either all or nothing. This is why I don't give up anymore. If you give up something, all that you have done is like nothing had happened.

Q: Even for giving up perfectionism.

JH: With this personality, it used to make me feel really tired. People around me must be tired, too. At one point in time, I feel this is just the way it is. There is nothing wrong with being perfect. But now, I think it's okay to be imperfect. I came to the realization that I cannot do everything by myself. There are also many people who are helping me.

Q: From "Best Idols" to everyone's "Adult Idols". When it comes to adult, you cannot skip the alcohol.

JH: I can't drink that often because I have to take care of my body with exercise and diet. But I do enjoy it. These days, I cannot just drink freely outside, so I will take a sip at home. Drink a little bit of Whiskey and it will make you fall asleep comfortably. I enjoy my alone time like that at home. I used to think coffee and alcohol are bitter. "Why would I drink that?" Now that I know the taste of coffee, I bought a coffee machine. I am also collecting vintage wine. I buy them and give them to people around me as gifts. Let's say you want to drink beer just as cold as coke. For Whiskey, you pour it out to enjoy the taste and aroma. I don't understand this taste before. I thought it was for just people who enjoy strong flavors.

Q: Knowing the taste of coffee and alcohol is like a symbol of adulthood. Especially for Whiskey, that's like the preservation of a mature adult. Actually, I go a little worried when I saw an article saying Junho is not good at drinking. I wonder if you will go well with "W."

JH: Right, I haven't talk much about alcohol. There were articles like "He could only take one glass of beer" or "He went home so early" for the after parties. I think the fans know that I am a weak drinker but it's not bad for them to think I am cute because of that. But I am not that crazily weak! (Laughs)

Q: There's this article where you said "I usually drink well but I refused to drink at an after party yesterday because of thinks interview". So I thought, "Being a weak drinker self-management is on another level"

JH: For sure, if you have a schedule, you have to have some self control. Even if you drink, just enough to feel good. But even if I drink and go to sleep, I feel refreshed the next day. I don't know if it's because my liver is still in good condition, but I don't usually suffer from hangovers.

Q: Many people say that you will suffer less hangovers drinking Whiskey than other alcohol. I think "W" is good for people like Junho who enjoys drinking comfortably.

JH: I think "W" is especially refreshing. It has a good aroma and it's smooth to swallow. Comparing with other alcohol, Whiskey seems to have a higher entry level but you can have "W" easily. Actually, it has a lower alcohol level than normal Whiskey. During today's filming, I can feel the aroma and I've been sipping little by little. Maybe that's why I feel good now (Laugh).

Q: What food will go well with "W"?

JH: They often have nuts and chocolate with Whiskey but i would like to recommend tteokbokki. It's not the spicy tteokbokki but the one with beef and sweet soy sauce. You may think "What do you mean by having tekkbokki with Whiskey?" Just do it. It goes well together.

Q: How do you usually drink Whiskey?

JH: It all depends on my mood or situation. I think you find your own way that suits you, so you can drink comfortably. If you want to go to sleep quickly, drink it in a small glass in one shot. If you want to watch a movie, drink it cold with ice. I've been drinking Whiskey with ice and that got me interested in big block of ice. I even looked up YouTube videos where bar mixologist carved some ice balls. I even thought about buying an ice ball maker.

Q: It's all about "equipment" (Laugh)

JH: Even for coffee, I started not knowing anything but I was curious. I bought coffee beans and did the grinding myself. But the grinding size is too big so I went to study how to make it smaller. It became more fun. The scope of Whiskey is even wider when you have experience the different between having Whiskey on its own or having it with it.

Q: In JTBC's <Knowing Bros> when talked about the reverse popularity with "My House Junho" Wooyoung said "It's all because of Junho's virtue. Junho is very careful in everything so that he won't hurt the members. He will sacrifice for the team" I wonder why he feels like this.

JH: I am working as 2PM and as an actor, so all my schedules need to go well together. There are times when drama comes, so I have to turn down 2PM activities. I think that can happen but it's normal. As an actor, it's difficult to do other things when you are involve in a drama. Even though, I can multi-task my schedules, it's still a problem I need to solve. So even when I don't have much sleep, I don't want to show I'm tired. I always want to make myself feel good.

Q: I think 2PM's charms are "bonds between members" and "consistency". Both sounds easy but it's difficult to do. How did you keep up?

JH: Consideration is the most important and you should never think selfishly. We have been together for 14 years, so one of us could have done that to another person. We weren't adults when we started, so we are always talking to each other and still is today. Our tastes, our personalities and what we want to do are all different. For sure, we compromise and we give in for others but we became more considerate. This is when you know this friend is so kind and considerate. I think this is similar to what Wooyoung said.

Q: Becoming a senior idol

JH: Over the years, we have accumulated lots of experienced and our fields were being broaden. I think we can be a good example with how we stayed together and continue to work as singers. "Bukae" is the trend these days (Note: Bukae means a second job)

Q: Do you any advice fro the juniors?

JH: Umm, let's do well? (Laugh). There's a big difference between good and bad examples. Always watch what you say. Always watch what you do. I hope we can promote happily with the juniors.

Q: There's this "daily energy". It's the energy that shape your daily life with small changes. What shapes Junho's daily life?

JH: Before the schedules start, I must get up. By doing so, it already shape my day.

Q: The process of being fully occupied and working hard is beautiful. Of course, the results are often great. "W" is also trying to maintain the brand's reputation by carefully selecting the undiluted Scotch Whiskey in Scotland. Junho, I wonder what effort you are making to keep o

JH: And I try not to sleep during my schedules unless I'm very tired. I want to do everything with a clear mind. When you wake up, you're dazing. There was a time when we had schedules at Seoul, Daejeon, Daegu and Busan in different broadcast programs. There was a time when I couldn't sleep on a bed for 2 weeks while we prepared for the end year ceremonies. I was sleeping in the moving car. It was all fun memory but at some point in time, we didn't know how it all went because it was so hectic. I really regret it because I don't want to forget as much as I can. That's why I became interested in photography and videography. I bought a camera and a camcorder to record.

Q: You've been busy since 17. I wonder if you have gone through adolescence.

JH: Of course, I did right? (Laughs). On the other hand, my parents worked in double jobs, so my realization of their importance came a little early. My dad worked as a sea navigator. I didn't see him for 6-12 months so I miss him even more. When I was in elementary school, I went to my mom's workplace and called out to her until she answered me and I cried "I miss you." Now that I think about it, I wonder how busy they were.

Q: The process of being fully occupied and working hard is beautiful. Of course, the results are often great. "W" is also trying to maintain the brand's reputation by carefully selecting the undiluted Scotch Whiskey in Scotland. Junho, I wonder what effort you are making to keep your own color.

JH: I like things that are natural and light. I want to be a person who doesn't provoke or irritate, just like a piece of paper. Sometimes, it can be hard to keep it plain because I have my hot temper and fire but having this mindset keeps me neutralized. In <I Live Alone>, I used the moktak and this is one of my effort to do so. It's relaxing and makes me calmer.

Korean to English translation @JLML718 (Twitter)

[ruby-whistler]

hi, here's a short (long) analysis of this song which you should at least give a watch in my opinion! you might not like it, but you also might, so i say give it a shot.

anyways, here's my personal interpretation of the lyrics i (co)wrote. ani might have a completely different one, but you know.

beforehand, i need to point out that the first half of this was written before c!wilbur's revival and the second one was written after.

so, starting with the title

my motivation for it was c!wilbur's general role in shaping the narrative of the server, as well as cc!wilbur often joking around about scripts and other plot elements.

another thing was a clip of him talking with philza about how he thought the server's storyline was becoming very scattered, and i got the idea that maybe when c!wilbur comes back, he might try to rewrite the plot to his benefit as he has done time and time again.

hence, the idea for the song was born in my mind as i was falling asleep one night, because that is the only time i get good ideas.

the first half

"history, history, s'told by the winners, made by the sinners"

this was a reference to wilbur quoting the famous line "history is told by the victors". the reason i chose to use this set of words is because although the winners (wilbur) are the ones telling the story, the people who actually make the impact are often flawed, and genuinely invested in the cause (rest of l'manberg).

while c!wilbur knew the cause of l'manberg was false, he let the "sinners", or people he considered lower than him, since he was the one "telling" the story, win the war for him and make history as he altered the finished "story" in his own favor.

"so lie that you'll free them, s'long as you lead 'em"

this one is pretty self-explanatory. wilbur promised the revolution freedom in return for total loyalty to him, his power, and his country.

i'd also like to point out the use of "you" in this song - this was written, once again, before the revival; it was however expected that dream was going to bring wilbur back at some point. and i'm pretty sure ani doesn't know this, but writing this, i intentionally made the "you" wilbur is singing to be dream.

in essence, wil's telling his newfound ally about how powerful he is due to his abilities to "rewrite the script" - picture this being your usual villain monologue song after a dramatic return, since wil's always had a knack for the theatrics. keep this in mind for the rest of the explanation of these lyrics.

"the ink doesn't dry 'till time blows by spin a silver web and they're comply"

i absolutely loved this lyric, i couldn't stop gushing about it. ani came up with this one completely, so i don't know whether or not it has any deeper meaning, but i wanted to point it out because it sounds hella cool. the second part is about c!wilbur spinning lies until people would listen to him and do what he wants.

"smiles in the mirrors, reality's a game"

this line was meant to give an idea of just how screwed wilbur's perception of the world and people around him is, in that he treats everyone's lives as a narrative, as a symphony, as something that belongs to him and is free for him to play with.

smiles in the mirrors can be taken in a lot of ways, but one interpretation i like is that wilbur and dream as characters are parallels in their actions, but no one realizes it because the narrative paints them in different lights and the tragic hero and puppeteer respectively, when it's moreso the other way around.

"with help from the spinners we can shift all the blame"

spinners are the people wilbur uses to "spin" the tales for him. and, well, he's always been very good at shifting the blame and making himself out to be a victim.

seeing as he's talking to dream, in this line he is also reassuring him that he has people on the outside that can help them "rewrite" the current narrative and shift the blame away from dream and wilbur, in order to change the public's perception of them, which is at the time overwhelmingly negative.

"and if the world hunts you down out your mind and around we'll set their precious world adrift, adrift"

this is the most obvious pointer that wilbur is singing to dream. he is directly telling him that since the people of the smp have "hunted" him (or would, if he were to escape), and have hurt him mentally and physically in the prison, wilbur would work with him to destroy their lives and their world as they know it for their mutual gain.

it also brings forth his views of possession and power; in essence, he sees himself as in charge of the lives of everyone in his story, hence finding their realities fragile and fully his own to mess with. he finds it amusing that he has full control over something so "precious" to them, and mocks this sentiment in the last line.

"and if you don't like what's shown and you feel like no one's grown just, rewrite the script!"

this was the first lyrics for the song, which ani wrote, after i proposed the idea. this begins a trend in the song where wilbur will alternate between talking to dream and the viewers themselves.

here he is directly addressing those who don't like the way the smp has been since wilbur has stopped writing, and who call out the lack of character development in certain people's stories. he is reassuring them that now that he's back, he will rewrite it to be more entertaining - for him, that is.

the second half

alright, now we're going over what i myself wrote the day wilbur was revived after getting a surge of inspiration.

"screams, broken voices poor writing choices"

this starts off with revived wilbur's opinions on the new storyline he has come into. the first line refers to the torture dream is going through in prison, and the second is him simply commenting on how he finds the plotline inadequate after his return.

"dreams of redemption caught my attention"

the interesting thing about this is that wilbur, as has been shown before with eret, doesn't believe in people's redemption.

this line insinuates that even if there was any chance of the circumstances changing and dream getting better, now that wilbur was back, he wan't planning to let that happen, as he finds it one of the aforementioned "poor writing choices".

it caught his attention as something he finds interesting - since he's always had a twisted fascination with people's hopes and goals, finding ways to use them to his advantage - but in the end, naive, since his outlook on the world has always been quite cynical.

"train wheels screech on the rails in the end, my world prevails"

this was an attempt to shove a reference to the stream i had just watched into the song. the train stopped in limbo, and it came to get him back out to the world of the living.

the second line is him boasting that he knew all along that his efforts to gain people's loyalty would would pay off in the end, and hence his "word" prevailed even over death.

"i've got tales in store, of loss and of war it's a shattered world for me to restore"

see, this entire sequence is quite the oxymoron, and it's meant to be confusing, showcasing once again just how twisted wilbur's outlook on the world is.

he finds the story "shattered", which is a reference to cc!wilbur saying he prefers more centred stories than what the dsmp is right now. he is promising to fix this, finding it another game for him to play, another puzzle for him to solve, however, his definition of "restore" is proven by the previous line to be a contradiction at its core.

he has plans from his time in limbo, and just like all of his stories so far, they're tragic and traumatizing to the people playing in them. he plans to perpetuate war and conflict in order to make the story more lively and dynamic, while using loss as a tragic element to push the "characters" in their lives further towards development.

in the end, the way he's planning to "restore" the world is by rewriting the narrative in such a way that it wouldn't stagnate, or work itself out naturally, but continue endlessly for him to write and control.

"villains and heroes, traitors and moles when push comes to shove they'll burn the world for their goals"

the second part of the first line was meant to be "interchangeable roles" instead, but we switched it out so it would be easier to sing.

it's talking about how after all, it doesn't really matter to wilbur who the villain or hero is, as long as they are part of the narrative that he has power over.

"and if i harness the flame their hope will blaze all the same no time for interests to conflict"

this is confirmation of the previous point that he can use people's feelings against them and in order to perpetuate his own "interests". as long as he can make people think he's helping them, even if their goals are different, there won't be room for them to truly conflict.

the people on the dream smp all burn with hope and passion and human emotions he can exploit and use in favour of himself and his story, and even then they won't get any weaker. he sees them as an endless fuel source he can take from, essentially.

"so when you're blue and betrayed by all the choices you've made just, rewrite the script."

the last lines of the song, and here he is speaking specifically to the characters in the story. all of them have made mistakes and been "betrayed" by their choices to trust others, which left them or others grieving or hurt.

wilbur is in essence mocking this, by pointing out, once again, how simple it is for him to "just rewrite the script", and take all of their "blue" away - while also making it clear that he only plans to use this power to take further control by driving those he sees fit further down their path of revenge and villainy.

epilogue

thank you all for reading, whoever did! this song was truly a passion project for me to work on, and i loved coming up with deeper meanings to the lyrics, by using my own personal interpretation of the character. i get that this is not everyone's interpretation, but i like it. i also really can't wait for what wilbur's up to now that he's back. either way, have a nice day!

[gildorsonofinglor]

Oo oo oo oo oo oo!

Have some soft smut, my lovelies!

Percy peeked at me from over the top of his book. “Jason?” He asked softly, almost hesitantly. I set my carving down and leaned forward, expectant. Percy was rarely reluctant, so I was very interested to hear what he had to say.

“Why don’t you unbutton your collar?”

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but that certainly wasn’t it. Swallowing thickly, I leaned back into the sofa and pondered. I suppose he had a point: it was excruciatingly hot outside, I had my sleeves rolled up, and not only did Percy have the first two buttons of his shirt undone, he’d also seen what I was hiding before. In fact, I’d brazenly shown it to him and my colleagues on E-block my very first day of work. He had tickled me then, though; his sass had sparked a bit of mischief in me, and it was very amusing to see his face turn scarlet after realizing his faux paux.

This was different. Alone in my home after spending the day together felt more intimate; it was a different world to the structured uniforms and professional atmosphere of work. I was in my comfort zone here; the scar almost didn’t exist when I was home.

I suppose I’d taken too long to respond, because Percy set his book down and came to sit beside me. “Please,” he asked, brushing his fingertips along the top of my collar. I flinched away from the touch instinctively; his hand hung in the air for a moment, an expression of hurt clear on his face. My heart seized at the sight, and I felt the color drain from my face as he stood to walk away from me. My hand shot out and grabbed his. I pulled him back onto the sofa and brought his hand to my mouth, kissing his knuckles in apology.

A small smile settled on his mouth, and I sighed heavily, warming the skin of his hand. Guiding it back to my collar, I placed my hand over his and held it there, my heartbeat lurching in my throat.

He’s seen this, I thought, angry at my reluctance. This won’t be new for him.

Percy waited, uncharacteristically patient, and watched as I chewed over his request. His eyes never left my face, and I finally caught his gaze when I made my decision. Our fingers fumbled together to undo my top button, then the next, then the next. I let my hand fall way as he pulled my collar aside, and I broke our eye contact in a sudden panic, flicking my eyes to any other part of the room, anywhere except Percy’s face.

I didn’t was to see pity or disgust marring his lovely features.

“Does it hurt?” He whispered, his fingers softly tracing the outline of the scar.

I sighed and shook my head; it felt tight against the rest of my skin, yes, but thankfully no longer hurt. Forcing myself to look at him again, I was surprised and silently delighted to find Percy’s eyes locked onto my face and not on my neck. He seemed… interested, engaged, but I didn’t see anything upsetting. His expression was relaxed, his impossibly dark blue eyes glinting in the lamplight.

This was the closest we had been since the tunnel, and I was intimately reminded of how beautiful the man sitting next to me was. His full lips were slightly parted, as always, and some of his inky black hair had fallen out of its style and across his forehead. I wanted to reach up and brush the lock back, to feel the silky strands sliding through my fingers.

I was so distracted in my admiration that I didn’t notice Percy’s fingers wrapping around the curls at the back of my head until he tugged. My head fell back into his palm, exposing my neck to him. Before I could protest or flinch away, I felt those beautiful lips press lightly against the ragged flesh of my scar. The touch was ginger, featherlight, and I gasped when the feeling registered. This seemed to encourage him, and he pressed harder kisses along the jagged line.

Everything sharpened, the lights of the house suddenly too bright; the sounds of the woods I hadn’t noticed before became a roar in my ears, and I could feel my heartbeat racing through every vessel in my body. My breath caught, I was fighting for air, and tears soon blurred my vision. It was overwhelming.

I didn’t want it to stop.

No one, no one, in the fifteen years since I’d gotten that goddamned scar had ever kissed it, caressed it, treated it as a part of me instead of a morbid curiosity (at best). I could feel each kiss on the edges of the silvery skin, the scar itself devoid of feeling, and each firm, insistent press of lips made my heart flutter. Percy lavished attention on my throat, tasting the entirety of my scar before moving on to the rest of the taut skin. His fingers massaged under my curls and on the back of my neck, holding me still as he continued his attentions.

God. Goddamn.

I grabbed Percy’s waist and pulled him on top of me, his thighs settling on top of mine with ease. He yelped in surprised, but I buried a hand in his hair and kept his mouth against my neck. Now that I’d felt his lips against my throat, I only wanted more. My other hand slipped around his waist and settled on his lower back, my palm pressing gently into the curve of his spine.

“Jason,” he breathed onto my skin, his lips barely moving as they formed my name. I tensed, my arms tightening around him and pulling him closer. The tears stuck in my eyes finally fell, racing over my temples and into my hair as I began to cry in earnest. This wonderful man…

My chest seized with each barely repressed sob, jolting Percy on his perch in my lap. He pushed against me to sit up, a look of panic on his face. “Jason?” He let go of my hair and pushed my head forward, giving a small gasp when he saw the tears on my face. “D-did I…? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean t-!”

Shooting forward, I cut off his unneeded apology with a kiss, using the hand in his hair to keep him from pulling away in shock. Our chests pressed together, I could feel his heart pounding against mine. His breathing quickened as I deepened our kiss, my tongue slipping into his mouth around a soft moan.

I kissed him until he was a whimpering mess, his hands gripping my shoulders with bruising strength, his legs spreading to push his pelvis into mine. Now perched on the edge of the sofa, I gave Percy enough room to let his knees slide away from my hips, which lowered him more firmly into my lap. My hand, resting on his thigh, squeezed gently.

I wanted more of him, wanted him more now that he’d been so generous with his attention. I slid my palm along his plump thigh, the thrill of tracing the round flesh sending electricity shooting up my spine. As I circled my palm on his leg, my fingers brushed over his hip, eliciting a weak moan from my partner. Wanting to hear more, I rubbed my hand over his hip; he moaned into my mouth and pushed his pelvis further into my own. The movement encouraged my hand to slide back onto his backside, my palm cupping the fullest part of his ass.

Percy whimpered softly and pulled away from me with a jerk.

Startled, I let my head drop back to look up into his face. He seemed worried, his brow furrowed and his lips turned down into a frown.

“I made you cry,” he mumbled, letting his eyes drop away from mine. “I didn’t mean to…” Taking his hands off my shoulders, he moved to wipe away the tear tracks on my face. “I’m sorry.”

Sighing with a smile, I caught one of his hands and brought his palm to my mouth, kissing the damp skin. I followed the lines of his hand, closing my eyes and simply enjoying the contact. When I looked to him again, Percy was biting his lower lip in a wonderfully endearing way. I released his hands to touch my own fingers to my lips, letting my hand drop, palm up.

<<Good>>

He seemed taken aback by that and shifted uncomfortably in my lap. “It’s good that I made you cry?” He asked, one brow cocked in confusion.

I shook my head and guided his hand to my scar, where he idly began to trace the edges with his fingers. Taking a moment to sign “thank you”, I then pressed my hand over his.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “I, um… you’re welcome?”

Grinning, I pressed to the back of my hand to his chest and drew it back to myself, squeezing my fingers to my palm to form a claw. I then pointed at him.

<<Want you>>

My smile fell away as I repeated the motion more insistently, pressing my hand firmly against his chest to emphasize my seriousness.

<<Want you!>>

I watched Percy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, his lower lip again worried between his teeth.

“You… you, too,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against mine. “I mean, I-I want you, too, Jason.” My name was whispered with a sigh, the soft breeze of his breath tickling my lips. His eyes fluttered closed when I brought our mouths together again.

Kissing Percy was so easy for me. Soft lips eagerly paring for my tongue, kisses peppered with precious little sighs, and a greedy nature overall pulled me in like a rip tide. He swallowed me down into an ocean of pleasure with kisses alone; with fingers tangling into my hair and palms holding me close, I could happily drown.

One hand pressed into his back to keep him balanced on my lap, while the other traced his jaw with sensitive fingertips. I let my fingers follow the line of his throat, from his chin to his collar. I tugged at one of the buttons, hoping Percy understood the question I was asking.

“Yes,” was the immediate, insistent replay, his hands fisting in my hair in anticipation. “P-please,” he quickly clarified, his cheeks pinking as he pulled away to look me in the face. “I…” He let his hands drop from my hair onto my chest, splaying his fingers over my shirt. “You’re ahead of me,” he mumbled, a wicked smirk making an appearance while his eyes rested on my exposed throat and three open buttons. He only had two open, after all.

I matched his expression with a grin of my own and popped the third button on his shirt. His breath hitched at the sound, his hands crumpling the fabric of my shirt into his fists.

So sensitive from the sound of a button popping? I wondered if this reaction would be a trend and, if so, how well Percy would take to me happily exploiting it. Abandoning the buttons for a moment, much to his displeasure if the pout was anything to go by, I placed two fingers against his chin. Pushing upward, I gently forced his head back, making him mirror his own earlier actions with me. He gasped softly as my hand slid down his throat again, coming to rest on his collar as I brought my lips to his neck.

I popped another button.

“Are you going to give me more love bites?” He asked, voice low in volume and strained in tone, daring me.

I smiled, my teeth scrapping against his skin in a playful threat. He wanted bites, and I wanted to bite him, to feel his pretty flesh between my teeth. At the sound of another button popping, I nipped at the delicate skin against my lips.

Percy tensed and released a delicious, breathy moan. He let his head fall further back, giving more of his neck to me.

Encouraged, I popped another button and bit him again. Another button, another bite. Another button. Another bite. I moved down as more of him was revealed to me, littering a trail of teeth marks and blooming bruises in my wake. I knew those ruby spots would soon turn a gorgeous, deep purple as the night progressed. Both colors suited Percy perfectly.

He was panting now, his fingers again buried in my curls, and he was holding my face against his chest. I doubted he was doing this on purpose, if the bow-string tension in the rest of his body was anything to go by. While his response to my ministrations was amusing, I was quickly becoming frustrated with his wardrobe. The buttons of his shirt were now opened to his waist, where the rest of the material was tucked into his pants, while an undershirt blocked my mouth from more of his delectable person. I tugged both shirts out of his trousers roughly and immediately splayed my palms over his now naked sides.

Percy murmured something I couldn’t quite hear and pulled away from me. Reaching down, he yanked his shirts over his head in a jerky, irritated motion, throwing them aside carelessly.

My mouth was on him in an instant, marking a trail of heated kisses along his clavicle, from shoulder to sternum. Tongue poking out between my lips, I gave short little laps to the base of his throat.

Percy whined beautifully and jerked his hips forward, and I could feel a distinct hardness against my belly. I placed a hand on his hip and gripped it tightly as I kissed my way to a pink, pert nipple. I lavished attention on the little area, laving his nipple with my entire tongue in slow, deliberate licks.

“Jason!” Percy whimpered, his hips stalled in their movement by my grip. His back arched and pushed his chest more firmly against my mouth, and I closed my lips around his nipple eagerly, alternating between sucking on the supple flesh and teasing it with the tip of my tongue.

“Jesus Christ!” He cursed. Body trembling, he fought against the grip on his hip, trying to cant forward to relieve some of the pressure. “Please, please,” he groaned.

I stood so abruptly that Percy screeched and clung to me desperately, his legs wrapping around my waist and squeezing painfully. Snorting in amusement at the sound, I peppered kisses on his shaking chest while tugged my hair in disapproval. The pull sent shocks down my spine, and I barely heard his “You startled me!” as I moved to lay him back down on his back.

He relaxed again once we were settled, his legs loosening their death grip on my sides. I grinned down at him, and he met my smile with a scowl.

“You scared-!”

His words were cut short by a gasp when I ground my pelvis down into his. All forgiven, he began to move against me in earnest, his hands leaving my hair to grasp at my collar. “Ta-take off your shirt,” he demanded breathlessly, fumbling when he tried to unbutton it himself.

I straightened before he could rip my buttons off in his haste and took the thing off myself, flinging it and my undershirt somewhere in the direction of his discarded clothing.

“Oh.” Percy froze, eyes glued to my chest. He reached forward and placed a tentative hand on my, fingers spreading out to feel my chest hair. “Wow.”

Heat rushed to my face. It had been many years since my military service, and while I maintained some of the discipline I’d been taught, my physique had certainly softened around the edges. Percy drank me in anyway, eyes and emboldened hands roaming every piece of me that he had access to. “Wow,” he repeated, looking up to my face with pink cheeks and a big smile. “For me?”

Well, that sent a bolt straight to my heart and my dick.

<<All for you>> I signed, and his blush spread from his cheeks to the tops of his ears.

“Ha… prove it.”

I’ve been told I have a specific grin, one full of teeth and wicked intent. I know this was the grin I answered Percy’s challenge with, holding his gaze as I reached down and undid his buckle. With a little bit of fumbling and rustling of cloth, I pulled out the prettiest cock I’d ever seen.

A dusky pink head was already leaking precum, and I watched as a glistening bead trickled down smooth, pale skin to rest in a tuft of curly black hair. He wasn’t particularly long, maybe about five, five and a half inches, but he was so perfectly formed I couldn’t help but stare.

God damn, I wanted that cock in my mouth.

Based on his sensitivity thus far, however, I decided against launching myself at it like a starving dog, and instead looked back to his face with a grin.

My smile fell when I noticed that he’d turned away from me, his lip between his teeth and brow furrowed. Confused, I brushed my fingers along his jaw to get his attention.

“It’s..!” He huffed, still refused to look at me. “I know it’s small, but you don’t have to stare!”

My jaw dropped. He thought I was staring because I was disappointed, when that couldn’t be further from the truth! Incised, I grabbed his chin and turned his head to face me.

“What-!”

<<Beautiful!>> I signed furiously, a frown firmly set on my face. At his startled expression, I took a breath to calm myself. It was like my scar, I thought. I needed to be gentle with him, the way he had been with me. As upset as I was at him for not realizing what a treasure he possessed, I looked at him with a soft smile and repeated my sign. A litany of other signs followed: lovely, gorgeous, stunning, perfect, perfect, perfect.

I couldn’t be sure that he understood all of the motions I’d made, but I knew that he was familiar with the sign “beautiful”, and I hoped that he would connect the other words. It seemed most of the blood in his body moved to his face as I signed, his erection flagging while his face turned a bright red. He swallowed thickly, and he had trouble maintaining eye contact.

I released his chin from my grasp and caressed his cheek, encouraging him to look at me again. I could understand what he was feeling, I thought, and I would understand if he needed time to process those feelings. <<Stop?>>

“No!” He popped up, propping himself up on his elbows, his face aghast at the suggesting. “I-I’m sorry, I just…” He chewed on his lip and looked away, conflicted.

“You really think that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You think my, it’s, beautiful?”

He peeked at me under long lashes, and I nodded. I signed “yes” multiple times when he turned to face me fully once again.

“I don’t want to stop,” he murmured. “But, you, you come here.” His hand curled around the back of my neck and pulled me to him. As I settled atop him, he caught my mouth in a firm, demanding kiss. He nipped at my lips to leave a sting, then pressed his own to mine to dull the pain. His lips soon parted, and I greedily accepted the invitation, slipping my tongue past a needy whimper.

I felt his hardness return with interest, the firm flesh pressing into my stomach and leaving a slick trail of precum on my skin. Percy gave a mewling whine when I pressed against him deliberately, and I chased that sound, licking into his mouth and sliding my hand between us. My fingers curled around his dick and squeezed, and the moan I received in return was intoxicating. I started a lazy rhythm, gently pumping him with twisting strokes, giving just enough pressure to take the edge off.

Percy laced his fingers through my hair and bucked into my hand, chasing more friction while he kept me locked in a kiss. I pressed a hand on his hips and pinned him to the sofa; with the difference in our size, it was easy to keep him still with one hand while I used the other to undo my belt.

He grunted unhappily when I removed my hand, but he released a breathy laugh of excitement when he felt the weight of me on top of him. Breaking our kiss, he looked down the length of our bodies and snorted at what he saw. “Is everything about you fucking huge?” He asked, eyebrow quirked.

Following his line of sight, I could only see about a two inch difference between us, so I shrugged. To distract him from any potential unhappy thoughts that might follow his observation, I canted my pelvis into him and grinned when his head dropped back onto the cushion. I wrapped my hand around both of us and gave an experimental thrust.

“Fuck!”

My thoughts exactly.

Though I couldn’t close my hand around the two of us, the added stimulation provided enough to pull moans out of Percy and pants out of myself.

“You!” He gasped when I picked up the pace, thrusting into my hand and against him with fervor. “Come here!” Grabbing my neck again, he yanked me back to him. Instead of kissing my lips, however, Percy bypassed my face to latch his mouth onto my scar.

It was my turn to bite my lip, air rushing out of my nose in a voiceless sigh. Persistent; I was lying on a wonderfully persistent little bastard.

He sucked bruises around the perimeter of my scar, confident in knowing that no one would see the marks. I responded by thrusting more quickly, squeezing harder.

“Jason,” he moaned, and I felt the warm air of my name bloom against my throat. I carded my fingers through his silky soft hair, and I help him close to my neck as we continued, returning his earlier favor.

Trembling legs wrapped around me for purchase, locking behind me and pulling me closer. Little whimpers were voiced against my neck, and nails bit into my back. Muscles tensed against me, and hips bucked up into me with need.

He came first, my name breathed against my scar as he pulsed in my hand. A softening, highly sensitive cock caused him to whimper pitifully under me as I continued, chasing my own release. His voice swirled in my ears, his nails dragging more red welts into my back as I moved.

I stilled for a moment, my climax achingly close, my cock thrumming with pent up energy. I reached behind myself and took one of Percy’s hands in my own. Guiding him, I brought his hand to the back of my head, pushing his fingers deep into my hair. I closed my fist around his and pulled, moving my hips again once I felt the teasing pain.

“Hah, hah!” I panted, soundless breaths preceding my finish. My hips stuttered still at last, weak ropes of cum splattering onto Percy’s stomach and chest.

We lay in post-orgasmic bliss for a moment, Percy panting happily against my neck, his breath tickling me. I moved to pull away, very aware of the sticky mess on my hand and between us, but he snatched me back into a lazy kiss. Shifting, I tried to show him my hand and gestured to our torsos. He shook his head.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, grinning up at me. “Kiss me.”

And so I did.

[nanagoswife]

For You? Always.

Chapter Fourteen

Summary: After Ben taught you something, it's now your turn to teach him something.

A/N: I've been on a huge writing spree of this specific story. I started this story during the summer of 2020 and I still haven't finished but we're still in the pre-written chapters. As for the other stories, I'll get around to it soon. Thank you to everyone who's been reading this story and supporting it. (It’s probably the story I’m proudest of)

- P.S. if you want to join a tag list for a specific story or for all, please feel free to ask. It's open to anyone :)

Opening your eyes, you saw the spot beside you was empty. You turned onto your back.

“Well good morning, sleepy head,” Ben said from the chair in the corner of the room. In his hand was an open book, “I already got you coffee.” He gestured at the table beside you where a steaming cup of coffee sat. Going back to his book, he grabbed his own coffee to take a sip.

Turning over to pick up the mug, you said, “Thank you.” He smiled as he kept his eyes on his book. The sight of him brought a warmth to your heart.

From the small break in the curtains, enough sun shone through to light up the area for him to read. You hardly noticed that he was wearing his reading glasses as well. He rested a leg on the other to give him something to rest his arm on as he scanned the pages. On top of it all, he was still shirtless, his skin glowing from the sliver of sun.

When Ben had finished reading his page, he placed a bookmark and closed the book. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks when he looked up and caught your gazing at him. All he did was smile before getting up to join you on the bed.

“Did you have a good sleep?” he asked when you rested against him.

Nodding against him, he chuckled as your hair rubbed his skin.

“It’s just you and me for a while. Claire and Derek went out to get something for lunch.”

Looking up at him, the two of you smiled at each other, then a question popped into your mind. “That's okay. It means I get you to myself.”

He chuckled, "What were you thinking of doing?"

"Right now? Just stay here cuddled up to you. I do possibly have an idea for later tonight, though."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows in curiosity as he looked at you.

“Have you ever gone fishing?"

The question took Ben by surprise, but he shook his head in response. “My mom tried to take me, but it wasn’t something she knew too well. Is that your plan?”

“My plan was to do it after dinner. Claire said she has some rods and she told me that the lake is a good place for it.” His smile grew warmer when he met your gaze. After a moment, he nodded. Excitement filled you at the thought of teaching him something.

You reached up and cupped his cheek. The now thicker stubble tickled you skin in a way you liked. Leaning in, you gave him a brief kiss.

Keeping your hand on his cheek, you rubbed gentle circles with your thumb. It let you marvel at the feeling. "Have you ever thought of keeping your facial hair?" you asked quietly.

Ben raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Why? Do you like it?"

"Maybe," you said playfully.

"Maybe?" His amusement was growing.

"There is a way that we can get a more determined answer."

He smirked playfully, "I think I know how."

You watched as he leaned towards you. Instead of meeting your lips, he ducked down and rubbed his cheek against you neck. You started to giggle uncontrollably as the hairs tickled your skin.

"Ben!" you managed to get out through your laughing. In return, he chuckled in his moment of silliness. You continued to squirm and giggle until he finally pulled away after placing a kiss on your throat.

Then, after letting you momentarily catch your breath, he kissed you. Once again, you brought your hand to his cheek. This time, you pressed your thumb to the beauty mark just under his right eye. When you did, he slightly shifted to where he was partially on top of you.

Pulling away ever so slightly, Ben said quietly against your lips, "So, what's the conclusion?"

"I like it," you returned against his lips.

He smirked, "Maybe I'll keep it then." He pressed another kiss to your lips before turning back to laying on his back. When he did, you followed and laid your head in the crook of his neck.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. You didn't know how long it was for. That is, until you heard Claire call up to the two of you that she and Derek were making lunch.

When she did, you dug your face into Ben's neck. All you wanted to do was stay here in his arms.

Ben pressed a kiss to the side of your head, "We should probably get ready." You whimpered as he started to pull away.

Chuckling he moved back and pressed another kiss to your head. "We'll have more time later tonight," he whispered against your hair.

Finally nodding, you reluctantly pulled away.

For now, the two of you dressed in something simple and quick. Sure, Ben still wore his dress clothes, but he didn't tuck in his shirt or do anything he usually did when dressing for the day.

When you had finished getting dressed, you walked over to him and fixed his hair from the bedhead that he had. He bent down so that you could get a better look and reach the back of it as well. A smile spread across his head while he watched you focus, trying to make sure there were no loose hairs. You knew how he would be driven crazy if there were any loose hairs.

Giving him a quick kiss, you both left the room to see the other two.

Claire and Derek had cooked together for lunch. Watching them weave through the kitchen trying not to bump into each other was almost comical. It gave Ben a good laugh as well, prompting the story of when he used to work in the kitchen of a restaurant. Which explained why he was such a good cook.

What made you laugh the most, was that Derek and Claire were only making chicken caesar wraps. The reason they had to move around so much was because they didn’t take all the ingredients out of the bag before starting. So it was a process of going back and forth to that bag that made this scene chaotic.

Once the meal was ready, the four of you ate then talked at the kitchen’s island. In the middle of it, Claire had only just noticed the necklace that Ben got you.

“Did he give you that today?” she asked with genuine interest.

“No, he gave it to me last night.” Her jaw dropped as she stared at the topaz.

Asking if it was okay, she came over and examined it closer. “It’s beautiful. What is it?”

You looked over at Ben who answered, “A Swiss blue topaz with a sterling silver chain.” Claire looked up from the gem mouthing the word, “wow,” as she let the necklace carefully fall back into place.

Derek also gave a compliment when Claire sat back down, giving him the chance to look at it. Your smile grew big. Everyone saying they like it made it seem so much more special. Just like that, Ben had brought back your old trend of always wearing something blue. The necklace was just that.

All of you then stayed gathered around the kitchen island and carried many different conversations. Going from one large conversations, to seperate ones, back to the group conversations. This lasted up until you all had to get ready for the night.

Claire had told you that this was more of a formal restaurant. So, you elected to wear a dress you bought while here. It was a beautiful shade of teal and stopped just below your knees.

You pulled the straps over your shoulders and tried to bring the zipper.

"May I help you with that?" Ben suddenly asked. Smiling over at him, you nodded.

Lifting your hair away for him, he grabbed the zipper and pulled it up. A chill went through you when his finger grazed the skin of your back. It didn’t help when he grabbed the fabric just under the zipper, that laid at the small of your back, to help the slider reach the top.

Letting your hair fall back down, you turned to face Ben. His face was red with shyness, a smile appeared as he was trying to break it up. Raising a hand, you rested your hand and felt the small hairs that were on his jaw. He tilted his head to press more into your touch.

For a moment he closed his eyes. When he opened them back up, he said, “I have another gift for you.” Giving you a quick kiss, he turned to where his bag was.

From under his clothes, he pulled out another wrapped box, the same colour scheme as the other. This one was bigger though, and was in a cube shape. When Ben handed it to you, the weight was surprising, causing your hand to drop as the weight shifted to your hand.

This one seemed to get him more excited for your reaction. You watched his impatience as he urged you to open it. Chuckling, you opened it and you were met by a white box. Then, you flipped the top open to remove the few pieces of tissue paper.

Until you pulled it out, you were very confused as it only looked like a block of glass. When you lifted it out, you saw the acrylic block was attached to a white base. In the middle was a picture that Siara took of you and him, with genuine smiles, at Rick’s before you left for this trip.

“I knew someone that made these and he got it fast tracked for me. Here,” he stepped forward and felt around the bottom. Finding the switch, he moved it, causing the block to light up with a soft white. Awe filled you as you looked as the picture glowed brilliantly.

“Ben, I-” you couldn’t find the words to describe how you felt.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to say anything.” Your heart was bursting with happiness. Looking into his eyes, you saw a glimmer in his eye. He shifted his hand that was still on the base up to your face. "I love you."

As he did earlier, you leaned into his hand, "I love you too."

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when you heard a knock at your door. It was Claire. You found that out when she yelled out asking if you were ready.

Replying that you were, you looked at Ben with sorry eyes. With you placing the picture on the bed and him grabbing his coat, you left the room together.

Dinner tonight was rather uneventful. Other than the extravagance of the place, it was any usual meal with your usual flow of conversation.

Ben had held your hand that rested on his knee almost the whole time. You occasionally would glance down at your interlaced fingers and smile.

After you had arrived back at the house, you and Ben went to your room to get ready. You had to get fully changed, whereas Ben only untucked his shirt, keeping his jacket on.

Instead of asking this time, Ben immediately helped undo your zipper. Chills once again shot down your spine when he lightly pulled the fabric back to let the zipper separate easier. Slowly, he dragged it down, once again exposing your back. Ben took in a shaky breath when he reached the bottom, then moving his hands back to your shoulders.

He slid the straps of your dress from your shoulders. His hands were delicate as they touched your skin, causing goosebumps to form on your arms. With the fabric of his shirt against your back, you could feel his rapid heartbeat.

Putting his head where your neck and shoulder meet, he stepped back to let you finish changing. Even though you didn’t want him to stop, you had a plan. You knew that he didn’t want you to miss something that you had been wanting to do, either.

So, you finished getting ready and the two of you made your way out. Before heading towards the lake, you grabbed two rods and a tackle box that you made sure had everything you needed.

On the way down, you made sure not to trip again. Ben was still close behind you either way, ready to catch you if you did. It was a kind gesture, but unneeded as you stepped out onto the rocks.

Since you were going so fast, Ben only just caught up when you placed the box on the ground and handed him a rod. Swiftly, you tied hooks onto both of the rods with the only light being the moon. Doing this was almost second nature, as you and your dad used to night fish often.

Ben was thoroughly impressed at this skill, watching dumbfoundedly. His face made you laugh when you looked back up at him. Explaining your days doing this with your father still didn’t ease the impressed look on his face.

Once you had tied them, you took out a little bit of bait and put it on each hook. Even though you didn’t need to, you thought it would increase the chance of catching a fish. Also, you got excited and forgot about that fact.

You explained how to cast the rod while demonstrating for him. You didn’t have the same confidence he had to physically go through the movements.

The awkwardness that he had before he casted made you want to laugh. It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t know how to do it, it was mainly the facial expressions he exhibited when he was lining up. The cast itself was a relatively good one. Making it far enough that it wouldn’t be too shallow.

“That was good,” you said, putting your rod into the beach's rocks to hold it up. Taking the few steps closer to him, you helped him reel the line back in so that he could get a better cast. When you had, you gave him a suggestion for where to let the line go, taking his hands to show him the position.

Slowly stepping back, you watched Ben carefully draw back then cast it in the area you showed him. His smile flooded back to his face as the hook dropped close to where yours was.

“Nice, now we sit and wait,” you said, signalling him to stand his rod up in the rocks like you had.

Though it wasn’t the most comfortable surface, you and Ben settled yourselves in the space between your rods. He leaned back on his hands and you brought your knees in to your chest and wrapped your arms around them.

Before either of you could say anything, you were distracted by the sound of one of your lines being pulled. It was Ben’s. He grabbed it and hesitated before reeling the line in. The look of pure excitement was flooding his face as you guided him through the process.

Leaving Ben where he was, you walked to the edge of the water to get the fish. Out of everything there was, you forgot to grab a net for this scenario. Stepping up, you saw the fish and carefully picked it up out of the water. Keeping a good enough grip so it wouldn’t slip out of your hands, you brought it up to Ben.

“Would you like to hold it?” you asked while taking the hook out of its mouth.

“Uh, sure. We are going to release it, right?” You nodded in response, telling him you’ll show him how. Carefully, you handed the fish over, making sure he grabbed it correctly without touching the eyes or squeezing too hard.

As he went to put the fish back in the water, you guided his hands to the best place for it to swim away. With the swish of its tail, the fish splashed water into Ben’s face causing him to flinch back from the cold droplets. You couldn’t help but laugh when he dried his face with his sleeve, causing him to chuckle as well.

Standing back up, you saw a glimmer of water that he had missed on his cheek. You wiped it away from his skin with your thumb, keeping your hand there as you looked into his eyes.

In the moment, your heart seemed to swell when looking at Ben. His hand grabbed your free one, his palm still wet from the water. The breaths he had began to waver when he also looked into your eyes.

You smiled when he pulled you closer with his free hand placed on the small of your back. "Tell me you love me," you whispered close to his lips.

"For you?" He paused, smiling, "Always. I love you, Y/N." His smile turned bright before you lunged into his lips.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled your body to his. Embracing it all, you moved your fingers through his hair, messing it up. But he didn’t care as he was with you. All he wanted was your embrace, and all you wanted was his.

Not being able to help it, you giggled into his lips at the feeling of his stubble. Ben laughed as well, being unused to the scratchy feeling as well. Letting your lips fall away, you kept your foreheads pressed together. Smiles spread across both of your faces as you looked into each other's eyes.

A few minutes went by before you both decided to head back, collecting everything first. You walked side by side up the path to the house. The fishing was short, but it didn’t matter.

Making your way inside, you slipped by Claire and Derek, who were talking, without them noticing. There was a mutual agreement that you hadn’t wanted to get dragged back into a conversation with them. Not at the moment, anyways. All you wanted was time together. So, you went straight to the room.

Like the night before, Ben read to you as you laid in his arms. He wore his reading glasses again that fit his face well. In the light of the lamp, he read until you fell asleep. To not wake you up, he carefully placed the book to the side and turned the lamp off.

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @where-fantasy-meets-reality @wintersoldiersthings

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.4)

Chapter Four: The Train Ride There

1k+ Words a lot of it is taken from the book but as always I added a lot of [Name] in to make it.... chaotic and slightly angsty

Still uses he/him pronouns for now and later addition of they pronouns will be announced before the chapter. Hope you Enjoy!!!

Last  //  Next

“What the actual hell- Ow, heck i meant heck.” [Name] choked out while rubbing the back of his head

“Mhm sure you did”

“Anyway you mean to tell me I have to run at a wall.”

“Yup”

“In a muggle train station”

“Yes”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Look, do you want to go to Hogwarts or not?”

“I mean I do but-”

“If you don’t you’ll only disappoint Harry” [Mother’s name] interrupted

[Name] hesitated before responding “I’m sure he’ll be fine he like defeated an evil lord as a baby of course he can run at a wall and make other friends”

“[Name] if you miss the train I’m not taking you to school myself”

And just as [Name] seemed like he’d be okay with that aspect (anything to not embarrass himself in public really) all his hopes were completely crushed

“And I’m not taking you back home to ride on the house elf express”

“Okay but if I die or embarass myself I’m gonna have to find a way to jinx you or something. Maybe i’ll tell that weird muggle mailman you find him cute and force you to flee the country”

“You wouldn’t”

“That’s what you think”

[Name] seemed to gather the courage of all his ancestors (may they rest in peace) and ran straight at the obvious death trap. He had a chosen one to meet after all. He closed his eyes right before impact only to have his senses assaulted by the sounds and sights of something completely unexpected

‘Wow' he whispered under his breath

“I told you so”

“Alright alright I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. But I mean you’re not exactly the most trustworthy. If I needed someone to help me cover up a crime maybe, but a prank that could end in bodily harm..”

[Mo. Name] pretended not to hear a word as she fussed over [Name], the train departing soon. She’s a mother, she couldn’t help it. After running down a long list of things [Name] should have (And did) pack in his trunk she gave a forehead kiss and pushed him off to the trains. As he got on she did the unthinkable.

“Bye baby!! Momma loves you. Tell Peeves I said Hi’

Yeah [Name] definitely wasn't gonna be popular now. At least… not in a good way. There’d be rumors around hogwarts. And he’d be in the center of them.

          ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry sat alone in an empty compartment after all the hustle and bustle that came with parents seeing their children off for the first time. And could’ve sworn he had heard someone say something about being peeved. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted when the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red headed boy he had seen earlier came in.

“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

“Hey, Ron”

The twins were back

“Listen we’re going down the middle of the train- Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then.”

“Bye” said Harry and Ron. the twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

“Are you really Harry potter?” Ron blurted out

Harry went to nod but the compartment door slammed open once again

“Harry there you are. Thank God I found you.” [Name] gasped out “My mother totally embarrassed me as I was getting on the train screaming about someone named Peeves and she called me BABY. Anyway I’ve been trying to find you without drawing to much attention to you or myself.”

Harry had wondered how [Name] had said so much in one breath. He didn’t know [Name] to be particularly talkative. He of course had his moments when he’d stand up for someone but Harry had always seen name as a little bit of a worrier or an outsider like himself.

“Sorry." [Name] said almost as if he read Harry’s mind “It’s the nerves. I’m super glad that you’re not alone but I’m also jealous I didn’t get to you first.” [Name] continued as he moved to sit next to Harry.

“What were we talking about? Oh yeah he was asking about your chosen one status which is kind of cool and lame at the same time. Is that offensive?”

“Have you really got - you know?” He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. And surprisingly [Name] did too.

“Y’know as close as we are for two people who only met twice, I realized I haven’t gotten a good look at you Harry.” [Name] realized turning all of his attention on the resident Chosen One

Harry and [Name] stared at each other for a moment. [Name] was curious as to who the boy who lived really was and why he was drawn to him. It was like they were meant to meet up. At the Zoo, in Diagon Alley and now hopefully they would remain on the same path at Hogwarts too.

Harry on the other hand was staring at [Name] in appreciation. They were strangers, yet [Name] came to Harry’s rescue so naturally. Ron was to be a good friend to Harry, he’s sure of it, but it was different with [Name]. Their friendship wasn’t founded on titles, or reputations, or anything but mutual respect and destiny perhaps? If he were more naïve he might’ve attributed this feeling to a crush.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who-? Ron interrupted the staring contest

“Yes” said Harry “but I can’t remember it”

“Nothing?” Ron said eagerly.

“Well- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.

[Name] got incredibly bored of the topic, not really keen on discussing Voldemort’s attack on Harry so he began looking out the window like the main character. Only catching flashes of the conversation and adding his own commentary when appropriate. Apparently Ron had 5 brothers and a little bit of “a lot to live up to” but being friends with the chosen one was sure to give him some stories to tell..

[Name] didn’t interrupt with much about his family because he’d already talked about his embarrassing mother and there was nothing else to talk about but his incredibly large and empty house which would have made him a little uncomfortable and slightly awkward. Y’know since he was talking to an orphan and a poor kid with a huge family. How could either of them relate?

What he did however pay attention to was Harry’s bravery and generosity. Apparently he was only a little bit of an oblivious idiot. Sure he proudly said Voldemort’s name (a trend [Name] hoped to follow) but he was smart enough to realized in the wizarding world at least he was rich and could splurge a little bit on the less fortunate *ahem* Ron *ahem*

“Go on, have a pasty” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten.)

“What are these?” Harry asked Ron and [Name] holding up a pack of chocolate frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they/” He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him

“No” said Ron “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa”

“He has no idea what you’re talking about, look at his face” [Name] laughed out. Ron followed his line of sight and chuckled at Harry’s confused face as well.

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know - Chocolate frogs have cards inside them, you know to collect - famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

Both Harry and [Name] removed the cards from the chocolate frogs. Harry got Dumbledore which set his curiosity aflame once again. [Name] kept his a secret for dramatic effect of course. After answering his questions Ron asked for a chocolate frog as well only to get Morgana.

“Well Ron” [name] started “if you show me a trick, I’ll give you this” flipping over the card Ron’s eyes went wide at the sight of a Ptolemy card.

After a long conversation about the dangers of eating Bertie's ever flavored beans (which [name] would never even touch) Ron eventually worked up the courage to perform a spell when the toadless boy from earlier appeared, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wan in his hand.

‘Oh god.’ [name] said to himself as the girl’s thoughts assaulted him and drowned out the obvious awkward silence in the car ‘this girl may have redeeming qualities, or at least I’m hoping she does but she needs to get over herself’

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback

“Er- alright” he cleared his throat

“Sunshine daises, butter mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow”

He waved his wand but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Said the girl. “Well it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but…

[Name] having heard most of this speech in his head already tried to tune her out and gave a snort at the end of her rambling when Harry and Ron looked at each other incredulously. Only a little offended when he heard Harry's comparison of Hermione to the nervous [Name] earlier

They all introduced themselves but Harry’s introduction led her on another tangent about him not looking himself up as if this was a common thing to do?? Then she asked what houses they thought they’d be in before leaving, taking the toadless boy with her. Poor Neville.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it”

“I doubt we’ll be in the same house Ron” [Name] realized “you’ll probably be in whatever house your brothers are in”

“Gryffindor” Ron spoke up

“Right, and Harry will probably be with you where as I’ll end up in Slytherin probably”

The car went silent a bit before [name] spoke up again “I know what you’re thinking. Literally. I never had a Ptolemy card. I only said that because I wanted to show off my powers as a legilimens. I can see into your mind basically and I made you see what I wanted you to see. Don’t worry though I won’t like brainwash you or anything. Wouldn’t want to be a typical Slytherin and end up a dark wizard.

[Name] got ready to flee the cart after that whole speech and he could tell Ron felt kind of guilty but [Name] couldn’t risk Harry hating him. He was going to the house that produced Voldemort after all. He rushed out of the cart as some blond entered probably because Hermione had spread the rumor about seeing the chosen one.

Before [Name] knew it he was facing his newest worst enemy. The sorting hat.

[tirorah]

Road to Berlin – The Strike Witches Magnum Opus?

Hello! It’s been a long time. I don’t plan on returning to Tumblr long-term—it simply stole away too much of my time and energy, and I had to do what was best for myself. However, I thought I’d pop in for a very special message.

You see, Strike Witches’ third season, Road to Berlin, has now reached its halfway point. And I need you to watch it.

“Strike Witches?!” I hear you say. “That weird show about girls with no pants that you’re obsessed with for some reason?”

Yes, exactly! Hold on, don’t run away yet! Sit with me for a spell and allow me to explain my boundless love for this silly, emotionally gripping show. Allow me to tell you why it might affect you in the same way, and why Road to Berlin may be the best offering yet.

Welcome to the 501st Joint Fighter Wing

If you’ve heard of this anime, you’ve undoubtedly heard of (or witnessed) its rather infamous claim to fame: a group of teenage soldiers fighting strange creatures in an Alternate Universe World War 2 Europe, flying around with guns and magic-fueled leg machines, and none of them are wearing any decent trousers.

That takes some getting used to, doesn’t it? I’m not going to deny that. But while Strike Witches’ rather peculiar design decisions are inescapable, there’s one thing you need to take into account: Season 1 aired all the way back in 2008. And over those thirteen years, it’s evolved into an experience unlike anything its roots would suggest.

Strike Witches has always been a strange beast. It has a large cast and divides its activities evenly between (light) war drama and slice-of-life shenanigans. And there’s fanservice, lots and lots of it! But the show’s emphasis on risqué camera work, and how that camera work is handled, highly depends on which entry you’re watching.

You see, Strike Witches is strangely ambitious. It could’ve easily taken its bizarre concept and pushed that to its limits, bringing in as much fanservice as possible and playing a simple story in the background as window dressing. But it was never satisfied with just that. Even early on in Season 1, the show deals with heavier themes like pressure, trauma and loss.

And then there are the characters, the undisputed stars of the show. Twelve strong and all with different backgrounds and personal quirks, they may at first seem like TV Tropes come to life. And certainly, sometimes they are. However, as the series progressed, things started to change. Even Season 2, arguably the lightest and silliest of all entries, featured material that built on character development and character growth earned in its predecessor.

With the movie and a trio of OVAs to round out the cast a bit more, the stage was set for Road to Berlin.

The Difficult Road Ahead

When this season was first announced back in 2018, two things stood out to me. First of all, the key visual and promotional video released along with the announcement were much more similar in style to the movies and the OVAs, featuring serious-looking characters and stormy clouds. Secondly, for the first time in Strike Witches history, an entry received a subtitle. Yes, the OVAs were named Operation Victory Arrow, but that was merely wordplay to spell out “OVA.” It wasn’t wholly serious.

Road to Berlin, however, is deadly serious.

Let’s start with an overall theme. The vaunted 501st Joint Fighter Wing has had some major victories, but much of the continent is still under occupation by the Neuroi. The Hive over Berlin is the Wing’s new target, but the journey there is fraught with obstacles. Plans are thwarted and delayed by Neuroi more powerful and far craftier than their 2008 counterparts.

And as the opening song tells us: “We all have flaws.” The Road to Berlin isn’t an entirely literal road; it’s also a metaphorical one. The push to Berlin is their hardest battle yet. Victory can only be achieved if the characters face and overcome their weaknesses. But they’re not alone.

Friendship Is Power

As the characters have long since been established, there’s greater room for growth not just in one character, but also in how that character interacts with others. Road to Berlin chose the best possible route and decided to emphasize character dynamics. Episodes don’t focus on a single character anymore; they focus on relationships, and those relationships are at their peak here.

There’s a newfound maturity to the writing in Road to Berlin, a gentle touch that allows the characters to breathe and be more than their foremost traits. You get a sense that the characters have grown from their experiences; they feel different, more well-rounded, but they still behave exactly as they should. This is difficult to get right, and while I’m sure there might be a few eyebrow-raising moments here and there, the overall result is a cast that continues to improve every week.

Chekhov’s Gun

Underpinning the character work is a highly intriguing execution. Road to Berlin delivers subtle setups and satisfying payoffs in every episode. The pacing is also seriously tight. No moment is left unused, every opportunity for additional development is taken. Even the script itself doesn’t like to waste time; it explains things here and there, but it rightly assumes you know who the characters are and what everything means, so it doesn’t bother with many unnecessary lines.

On top of all that, this season is reaching new heights in confidence and sheer audacity, and it uses that to deliver something truly special. There are interactions here that I never could’ve imagined, twists that genuinely caught me off-guard, moments where I had to sit back and digest what I’d just witnessed.

Not a single episode has been predictable thus far; I’ve had more surprises than I can count. In fact, before I started watching I made a bingo card on a whim, filling it with trends and running gags I’d spotted over the course of the series. Some of those bingo spaces have already been proven wrong, and others are in question. Road to Berlin has done such a spectacular job at simultaneously defying and exceeding my expectations that I honestly have no idea where this journey will take me.

The Fault in Our Stars

Okay, hold up, stop the hype train! I admit, I’m a massive sucker for Strike Witches. One could say this somewhat clouds my judgement. Shocking, I know. So, to make this enthusiastic recommendation fairer, let’s dig into something that I hope to see an improvement on.

There is some terrible imbalance in screen time going on here. I know I said earlier that the cast is great, and it is amazing, but some characters have definitely been favored over others. Yoshika is the main character, of course, so it’s not unreasonable for her to have a large role. Similarly, characters like Minna, Gertrud and Shirley have more experience and higher ranks than the others, which means they have an easier time fitting into scenes.

So, who’s gotten the short end of the stick?

Let’s start with Lynne. She hasn’t had as much of a presence as I’d hoped. The primary reason for this is Shizuka, who’s taken up the role of newbie to the squadron and is often paired with Yoshika because they’re working together. As each episode focuses on the relationships between a select few characters at a time, the others are often relegated to minor roles, and poor Lynne hasn’t had an episode to highlight her yet. I’m sure her moment will come eventually.

I don’t know if the same thing applies to Minna. She’s mostly stuck behind her desk again, it seems, and while she’s definitely had some scenes, her role as Wing Commander hasn’t allowed her as much wiggle room as some of the others. What I want to see from Minna is more time to be a nurturing mom to her girls. The thing is, I’m not sure how they’d accomplish a Minna-centric episode. I suppose they could pair her up with Mio, but even then, I’m uncertain where to take her. It seems redundant to have her be worried out of her mind over Mio again, and she seems to be keeping it together pretty well so far anyway.

In a trend so merciless it’s almost comical, Sanya and Eila seem forever doomed to the peanut gallery. They started out with few lines and have pretty much remained in the background since. Of course, a big factor to it all is their role as the night patrol, which naturally separates their activities from everyone else’s. It’s my current prediction that their relationship is next in line to be showcased. The quality of that episode will likely hinge on how their personalities are tuned, but there’s potential for something great.

And most shocking of all, Mio—She Who Has Practiced Plot Armor Ten Thousand Times—has had the most infinitesimal role of all. I’m of two minds on this. It appears that Road to Berlin has realized that having Mio fly into battle without a shield or Striker Unit is silly, and this is good. On the other hand, Mio is an iconic and beloved character. She deserves some screen time as long as she doesn’t overshadow the others. For now, she seems to be relegated to strategizing and logistics, although I have a hunch that a way to circumvent her newfound vulnerability has already been set up. Time will tell if this ends up being utilized.

Journey’s End

In closing, Road to Berlin highlights the best of what Strike Witches has to offer. It’s striding boldly forward, eager to dazzle us with its animation and audio, grinning as it challenges our preconceptions about where its characters can go and what they can do.

The path to this greatness can be tough. Watching Strike Witches means accepting a number of strange concepts, which can give quite a few viewers a rough start with the series. However, if you made it all the way here and haven’t given Strike Witches a try yet, I sincerely implore you to make the attempt. If you allow the characters to sweep you off your feet, then Road to Berlin could be the apex of a most satisfying viewing experience.

Especially if its second half is as impressive as the first. I, personally, have high hopes. There’s no sky this show can’t conquer.

[candlelight27]

Chapter 1: The Call Of Yesterday

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans... (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: Not so unrequited love, Sylvain being an asshole, curse words

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 3617

AO3: The Call Of Yesterday

A/N:  Okay, my aim is not for this College AU to be faithful to reality, but to incarnate my own college fantasy. I’m tring to use a lot of characters to make it interesting. Anyways, come talk to me! Send me your suggestions, your comments, your thoughts... And enjoy this fic!

“This is going to be my year”, you told yourself as you got ready for your first day of university. You were brushing your hair and styling it the way Dorothea suggested, since she always knew what would suit everyone’s features. You wanted to be perfect because that was going to be a special day.

Your mind wandered off into the days you spent in Garreg Mach High School. You smiled softly at the reminiscence, since some of the most beautiful memories you harboured took place there, between those cherished halls. Prom night, summer c88uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

amps, the sports club... You were going to miss that time, but you had to move on.

For that matter, it was about time you moved on from a certain thorn in your heart. One that had been bothering you for years. Of course, that thorn had a name, a middle name, and a surname, all too well known to everyone at Garreg Mach.

Sylvain Jose Gautier.

Your own particular unrequited love story.

Your crush on him was kept a secret throughout all high school, naturally. How could it not be? You had fell for the most renowned womanizer of your year – probably the most renowned womanizer of the whole history of your school. He was handsome, he was intelligent, he was nonchalant and carefree, yes, but he also was an asshole, and you didn’t want your friends acknowledging the fact that you had fell fully for his tricks. However, there was something quite worse than falling for the corny clichés and shameless lines Sylvain constantly used. Something far worse than melting with his every word and dying to be the girls whose cheeks he made blush. And infinitely worse than spending all your breaks trying to catch a glance of his fiery hair around the corners of the building.

The thing is that Sylvain had never spared a second glance to you. He hadn’t even tried to flirt you, unlike he did with the whole female community.

That complete banishment was what mortified you the most in your romantic ordeal.

You remembered that time Ingrid introduced you to her childhood friends, Dimitri, Felix and Sylvain. They had gone to the field to cheer her during a football match of your high school team. You had heard of them before and saw them often on the corridors, but you had never crossed a word with any of them, as they were in Ingrid’s class and not yours. You were quite excited to finally talk to Sylvain, for you had been looking at him in the distance ever since Ingrid started telling you stories about him. Yet while your heart pounced like a runaway horse, he only muttered a ‘hi’ and disappeared into thin air.

“Apologise our friend. He’s always off to chase skirts, it’s nothing personal”, tried to explain Dimitri, ever the gentleman.

The next few times you met him, he merely pronounced monosyllables to your efforts of striking up a conversation. Even Ingrid commented on how dry his behaviour was when you were there. How could love appear out of nowhere? It was probably the stupidity of puberty. But your desire was out of control and you couldn’t help going back to him. To those light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart…

But it was all water under the bridge. You grew up. That silly attraction ongoing for years was going to meet its end with your fresh start at university. Your teenage love was gone with the wind.

You had all summer to psych yourself up and forget him. So far so good. No nigh-time fantasies to keep suffering, no fateful encounters to revive the forgotten flame, nothing to remind you of Sylvain.

You even went on a date with Ferdinand, something completely new for you. It was Dorothea, always meddling in your love life, who had set you up with him when she wormed out of you that you liked redheads. She was convinced your lifelong crush was Ferdinand, because you had been on the same class since you were kids. After such a pompous announce of your date with him, you almost felt bad for your brunette friend as you told her how horribly wrong your date was, but in the end you both laughed about it.

So, yes. You were indeed free from the fetters that Sylvain had bounded without realizing. Or so you thought. You didn’t want to think about that small trace of doubt that told you it would all be in vain the second you see him again after summer break.

“This is going to be my year…”, you repeated out loud as a chant while you gathered your things for your lessons.

“Are you ready?”, asked Ingrid from another room. She was now your flatmate, on one hand because a sudden friendship had bloomed during the holidays, on the other hand because Dorothea was stuck with a new exchange student, Petra, and Mercedes couldn’t be separated from Annette, so you both ended up alone and it seemed the obvious solution. You didn’t complain, you liked her company and things were working just fine.

“Yes!”, you answered and joined her in the entrance, rucksack on your back and phone on your hand.

Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a long braid and her clothes were comfortable yet formal, just like her usual self. She seemed excited for the fresh start, too, as she rushed to talk about the upcoming lessons.

You left the student’s residence, following a couple of groups of people you didn’t know. It was a sunny morning, thus the beams of light shone right though the leaves, already changing their colours at autumn’s pace. While you walked, Ingrid was checking her phone for new messages.

“Are you talking to the guys?”, you asked as you wondered about Sylvain’s schedule in silence – not that you were interested, you wanted to make sure you avoided him –. You didn’t want to be too straightforward, because even the most oblivious person, Ingrid in this case, would notice there was something going on if you were too invested in his affairs, so you were cautious.

“Oh, right now I’m talking to Ashe.” She smiled, still typing. You raised your eyebrows.

“I thought you weren’t that close to him.”

“He’s attending all my lessons so I’m checking a few things with him”, she answered. You nodded and checked your own phone.

Dorothea (08:45): I’m waiting for you on Anna’s Café.

Dorothea (08:45): HURRY UP YOU ARE SLOWER THAN MY GRANNY

“Dorothea’s waiting ahead for us”, you commented.

“Who are you sharing lessons with?”, Ingrid questioned, putting her phone away in her pocket. You hadn’t seen her so interested in the machine ever – you’d have to figure out if it was Ashe’s fault.

“I’m not sure!”, you said. “I think I’m sharing subjects with some of the Golden Deers… Marianne, Lysithea, Claude… Also, Mercedes and Bernadetta.” You weren’t that close to any of them in particular. You sometimes hoped you had closer friends with you, but at least it was a good opportunity to become closer to new people.

“That’s quite the group! All the houses of Garreg Mach mixed!”, the blonde exclaimed. She was right, it was going to be quite the sight – and an exciting adventure, too, you supposed. “Yesterday Sylvain told me he’s going to be in my first lesson today along with Felix, and on some other ones. But the ones who got the same itinerary as me are Dimitry and Ashe, so I’m going to see them often.” She made a pause, as if imagining the future. You, on the other hand, were delighted to hear you weren’t going to share classes with Sylvain. “Leonie and Edelgard have chosen that itinerary too –”

“Hello!” Dorothea sprang to you, dressed in the latest trend, as always. Her smile was radiant.

“Hi, Dorothea! We were talking about who’s on our classes”, commented Ingrid.

“I’m with Hilda! I was hoping some handsome boys would be on my classes but Hilda said she did the research and was quite disappointed.” Dorothea sighed but suddenly called your name. “Claude is in your class, right?” You nodded with caution. “Didn’t you get along with Claude?” You nodded again, furrowing your brows in suspicion. “You could ask him out!”

Ingrid started laughing while Dorothea’s voice was a sweet giggle.

“Playing the matchmaker again, Dorothea?” Ingrid tried to calm herself. “Last time, it was a disaster.”

“Yes, sorry for that”, offered Dorothea.

“Don’t sweat it”, you said, shaking your head humorously.

“But”, the singer wasn’t one to let things go, “he’s actually very hot. Everyone with eyes can see that. And he’s really easy going, unlike Ferdinand. And smart! You must have a lot in common –”

“I’m fine.” You had repeated the same many times. Your friends were trying to set you up on dates lately. “I can manage myself pretty well.”

“You could use a little stress relief though…” Ingrid blushed this time hearing Dorothea’s words. Noticing the silence, the brunette continued. “This goes for you too, Ingrid!”

“That’s not true!”

“Anyways, where’s Petra?” You tried to divert her attention as you were approaching your building.

“She had to sign some documents, so she must be in the main office,” informed Dorothea with a bright smile, her good mood contagious.

“I want to meet her”, said Ingrid, who hadn’t moved yet when you all were acquainted with the student from Brigid. You hadn’t shared more than a few greetings, but she was getting really close to her flatmate.

“We are going to throw a party at my house next week or the other!”, Dorothea announced with excitement. “If you don’t bump into her before, you’ll get to know here there.”

Even though you knew Dorothea’s parties tended to get out of hand, they were always fun, and it could be a great start for something new. You would have to work hard to convince Ingrid, who didn’t like going out that much.

And like that, you reached your destination and parted from them.

The halls of the place where you’d spend your next course studying were filled with students. All seemed to be trying to find the right way to their new classrooms. Chatter filled the air as you read the indications on your phone. It was confusing finding your way in the intricate web of corridors and doors.

“Where is room 122?”, you muttered and chewed your lip.

You found the room 121, but room 122 wasn’t nowhere in sight. You looked at the map, and figured it had to be around the next corner, so you kept walking to the direction you thought was right. You saw your phone, and it was almost 9 a.m., so you increased your rhythm. Then, you turned left.

Only to bump into someone. More specifically, someone’s chest.

You were quite confused as you fell on your butt and your backpack flew. Your bottom ached. Disoriented, you let out a faint ‘sorry’, but you were not sure to who it was directed. When you processed the situation, and that you were indeed going to be late on your very first day of university, you lifted your glance with the intention of getting up fast and entering your classroom.

Yet light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart stared back at you.

“Are you all right?” The question was announced by a smooth, rich voice.

It was Sylvain.

Shit.

You felt a rush of nervousness that run all over your body. You tried articulating a sentence, a word, anything to play it off cool, but your tongue didn’t respond, so you simply nodded. You weren’t okay, but he didn’t need to know that. Sylvain seemed quite surprised. His luscious lips were parted slightly, his pupils were fixed on you, and he remained as still as a statue, which only added to your agitation. At last, as if he was awakened from a trance, he rose his eyebrows and extended his hand.

“Sorry, let me help you.”

You grabbed your rucksack and took his hand. It was warm, soft, and strong. Sylvain helped you up and you could see you were right in front of your classroom.

“I have to… go to my first lesson”, you said as you pointed at the door.

“Oh, yes. Me too”, he flashed you an award-winning smile of his, totally recomposed of the mishap. “I think we share itineraries.”

“I thought you were… with Felix. And Ingrid,” you said. Inside of you, your thoughts were rioting. This couldn’t be true, you repeated yourself over and over. Half of you was trying to stay calm and affirm yourself that your stupid crush was over. The other half was sheltering some kind of hope you didn’t have time to identify. What was clear was that the redhead managed to break all of your expectations once again and you didn’t like it one bit. Of course, you put on a blank face, totally disconnected from your real feelings.

“Yes, right. I switched itineraries this morning”, he extended his hand and hold the doorknob. “My father signed me up for the one he wanted without any kind of regard to what I wanted in life… So, yeah, thankfully I had time to change everything before it was too late.” He opened the door for you.

“That’s… nice”, you smiled timidly.

“We’ll see each other often, then.” You entered the lecture room and Sylvain walked behind. It was big and spacious, and it was full of students. But at that time, it was as if only Sylvain existed. You’d have to get used to his presence in your lessons. A new challenge, but you were going to ignore him anyways.

Sylvain bid you farewell with a ‘see you’ and took a seat next to Mercedes.

You looked around to see where you could see. You saw a smiling Claude waving at you, right next to Lysithea and Marianne, and making gestures for you to come closer. “Sit with us!”, you barely understood what he said with all the chatter in the room, but his body language left no doubt.

“Hi!”, exclaimed Lysithea, looking cheerful and determined as always. Marianne looked collected and waved her hand. They both seemed much more mature after summer break.

“I’m glad to see you here! Just in time.” Claude moved his books in order to make some room for you at his side. You took the seat and settled there.

“Nice to see some familiar faces here”, you told the Almyran.

“I wonder what this year has in store for us…”, he continued, but he couldn’t finish the rest.

A young professor appeared. He looked like another student, but you could sense the authoritarian aura around him. His short hair was dark blue, and he wore black clothes. This new face sparked your curiosity, and although you were dying to turn your head and see what Sylvain was doing, you forced yourself our of your own trap. ‘Focus! You’re here to study, dammit!’, you chastised yourself.

“My name is Byleth and I’m going to teach ‘Fódlan’s history and culture’”, started the new professor.

Then, Byleth proceeded to give a long, detailed, and boring speech about the bureaucratic minutiae related his subject. It was completely tedious. He went over percentages, grading systems, schedules, credits and so on. He was really testing your will at not being distracted.

Rather than yielding to temptation, you turned around to see what Claude was doing. He was stretching like a cat and yawning. When he realised you were looking at him, he winked at you. You weren’t expecting it, so you nervously smirked and looked elsewhere. You swore it was a coincidence that your glance just happened to fall upon the infamous womanizer of Garreg Mach.

Unexpectedly, your eyes met with Sylvain’s. You decided your safest option was looking at your professor and finally paying attention.

What was happening that disastrous day? The Goddess herself must have been punishing you. You felt like you lost a war to your heart. You thought you had finished the chapter where all you did was thinking about Sylvain, you were going to date someone else, maybe fall in love and, above all, you were going to avoid returning to those years head over heels for someone who didn’t even know your name – or at least you supposed so, since he had never said it. Instead of the sensible thing, your whole being decided to betray your will, and you were all flushed and flustered with a single look of that man. It didn’t matter it was the first time he paid attention to you or that your longest conversation had been held that very same day. It didn’t matter to your dumb heart, which-

“This project will be done in pairs and it’s about the 25-30% of the final grade.” Oh, you might have wanted to pay attention to that, now that Byleth was saying something quite important.

“What did he say?”, you asked Claude.

“Too busy giving Sylvain the eye?”, he remarked, a satisfied smirk on the side of his face.

“Claude!”, you tried to scold him, but as you were whispering, it sounded like a high-pitched yell of guilt. Just like your feelings.

“Okay, okay. No need to get your knickers in a twist”, he couldn’t resist teasing you. “There’s this big project, 30% of the final grade or so. We have to research a topic he will give.” He sighed. “The professor also added that he’s going to assign the partners. I know it’s for our own good, for the sake of team working and all that boring paraphernalia, but it kind of sucks.”

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and we will be able to work together”, you tried to look at the bright side.

“As much as I’d love that, I think it’d be far more interesting if you got paired with someone else we know…”, he trailed off, testing the waters.

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, you sentenced.

“I’m not a fool. I know you’ve liked him since high school”. That, you weren’t expecting it. You hadn’t been exactly secretive with your longing staring, but you hadn’t been expecting the master of gossip to be after your very own secret. “Don’t make that face. I didn’t tell anyone, but you can’t fool me.”

“Just don’t tell Dorothea or I’m not going to hear the end of it”, you surrendered and pleaded. What was the use of hiding it longer? Besided, Claude made you feel comfortable and you though that he might be the right person to help you.

“Don’t worry. Just, why him?”, he wondered.

“I… It’s something beyond my control. It’s like I was condemned to love him and I can’t escape by any means. Like a force of fate is controlling me.” Now that you got to put it to word… it was the perfect description to how you felt. And you wondered how that could be.

“And how come you haven’t hooked up yet?” He laughed again at your expression of shame. “He’s Sylvain! Come on!”

“He ignored me. As in, he had never talked to me in high school”, it actually felt better than you imagined having someone to talk to. And Claude always kept quiet about other’s matters. He knew everyone’s secrets, but he never told any.

“That’s… weird. I will investigate that.” He placed his hand on his chin and his expression turned meditative. “He seems interested in you now, tough.”

“What do you mean?”, you couldn’t believe him. But something told you that it must be true if it was Claude who noticed it.

“He’s been looking at you for 40 minutes.”

You turned around and, in effect, Sylvain was looking at you. This time, it was him who moved away his gaze, a bit embarrassed to have been caught.

“So, from what I’ve seen,” Claude started to sum up, “you are trying to ignore him – don’t deny it, I’ve seen you stealing glances – because he had rejected you all high school. But now he’s flirty and charming, so you are on square one.”

“Yes, you could say so.” You were ashamed, but eager to see where he was going.

“There’s only one solution.” He moved his head closer to you, as if it was a conspiration.

“What is it?” He decidedly had captured you then, and you moved your head closer to hear him better.

“Play it along. See what happens. Don’t implicate yourself too much, but find out what changed.”

Right before you could answer, Lysithea shushed you. The professor was beginning to announce the pairs. As expected, most of your friends ended up with an unknown partner. Marianne was lucky and was set to work with Mercedes, one of the sweetest girls you knew. Bernadetta, who you hadn’t noticed until that moment, was paired with a girl called Monica, who seemed eerily familiar. Your name hadn’t been said, and neither did Sylvain’s, much to Claude’s delight.

After a long list of surnames, you didn’t recognise, it was your turn. While your name left your professors lips, your eyes widened. You raised your hand so Byleth could identify you with the name.

“Okay. There. Your partner will be…”, he was scanning the remaining names, for the list was almost finished. “Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

“Fate has decided for you”, Claude commented. You looked at Sylvain, and he had the audacity to smirk and wink at you. Outrageous.

You were then sure of it. Sothis was laughing at you. How were you supposed to survive this year?