#surprisingly the faceted eyes were easy and fun :}

[fairyoctopus]

The winner of the baby poll, Elidyr!!

he’s very happy that everyone voted for him, and thanks you all!!!

[qierxing]

mmkay but like...

Vil in an arranged marriage with darling

TW/CW: Arranged marriage, coercion, manipulation

it was decided since you were kids, nothing more than an adherence to a wish between your families. While your family wasn't widely known in society, they still retained high prestige from being descendants of royals.

The two of you got along surprisingly well. It comes with being a natural supporter for Vil as he works himself to the bone to become the next rising star in Twisted Wonderland. You were there to cheer him on and hand him water bottles after his workouts, always reminded him to stretch and take it easy. Everyone should want to support him, you thought. It's what he deserves.

Time passes on and as he starts taking on big shot roles, media presence rocketing higher, you're left with a small seed of doubt. His crown glimmers and shines, and it makes you wonder if you were worthy of being in its presence. How laughable. You were the one supposed to have royal blood. And yet, Vil, carries his head high unlike you. He deserves an actual partner who can stand with him as equals; not someone who holds no ambition and can't even amount to even a fraction of his power, both physical and magical.

You bet he hates your arranged marriage. Maybe it was because he got busy with school and acting, but the two of you have drifted so far apart, you're lucky to get a text from him every once in awhile.

You shouldn't be selfish, you remind yourself. When Vil smiles at you over his cup of tea, your lips tremble at the thought that you may never get to see this side of him again.

Instead of relief, you only find anger swirling in his bewitching amethyst eyes, and you flinch as Vil sets his cup down with a hard clack.

Cold sweat runs down your back as he icily rejects your timid proposal to annul your arranged marriage. Why is he so angry? Is it because he sees you trying to weasel out of your shared responsibility?

From then on, it's absolutely suffocating. Your phone has been silenced, because otherwise you'd be driven mad by the constant stream of texts, calls, and voice messages. It's like that fateful day was a red blaring siren, and now Vil's just constantly on you to make sure it doesn't go off again. Should you be feeling somewhat better knowing Vil cared for your relationship?

The question brings a bitter feeling up inside you. While Vil was able to reach out and find new friends and opportunities, you were always left behind in the shadows. You took it as it was, always just deciding to give your all to supporting Vil throughout his dreams. Even if it meant missing a fun hangout, you would still show up to Vil's rehearsals, water and towel in hand. But where did that leave you? You're beginning to realize you've made no lasting friends besides Vil himself.

You've given your all to him.

His father says as much, when he shows up for a rare visit to your household.

"Vil has asked me to start planning for the wedding ceremony as soon as he graduates. Ah, young love..."

The sentence only fills you with dread as you can't even find the words to refute him. He leaves a silver ring decorated with a large shiny, faceted lavender gem in your hands, you can only realize that this dream is soon becoming a nightmare.

[incongruousstrawberry]

Magnets pt. 1 (Kuroo Tetsuro x f!reader)

Word count: 1.9k.

Tags: none.

Summary: During your third year of high school, you get acquainted with a very charming boy. How will things evolve?

Kuroo Tetsurou was definitely a popular guy. Tall, athletic, with beautiful but weirdly cut hair, he always had a predatory sneer that made everyone shrink in his presence. Everyone except you. The reason was that, unlike most other people, you had fortuitously got the chance to discover that under that cocky and strict air he always showed around there was something else.

After your second year of high school, you had to transfer to a new school, Nekoma High. On the first day you had left home a bit too early, so you decided to take it easy on the way there, walking slowly and observing your surroundings in order to get a better view of your new city. While doing so, your attention was caught by a voice coming from your left. You turned your head toward that direction and saw a small green space, in the middle of which stood a crouched boy and a tiny white and brown dog. The boy had a weird haircut that reminded you slightly of a rooster and he was talking to the puppy while petting him profusely.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you? My little good boy, you like when Kuroo pets you, don’t you? What a good boy you are.” The tone of the boy was the usual ridiculous high-pitched tone people use when they talk to puppies and babies, and the thing clashed hilariously with his outer rebellious appearance.

After a moment of affectionate tones, the boy noticed that you were observing him and his face darkened briefly. After leaving the dog alone and after inspecting you from the bottom to the top (he was still crouched), he stood up and walked toward you, assuming an attitude that you soon discovered was his default one.

“You attend Nekoma High, don’t you?” he asked confidently, recognising your uniform.

“Yes,” you simply replied.

“How is it that I’ve never seen you before?” His tone was inquisitional and somehow it seemed like he deemed it impossible that he could not know every single person (or maybe girl) in the school.

“I’ve just transferred. Today will be my first day,” you replied, a little annoyed by the way the boy was towering over you now that he was standing and scanning you.

“Oh, which class?”

“3A.”

A pensive expression played across the boy’s face. “You don’t say…” Then he started walking, turning distractedly toward you with a gaze that you immediately recognised as a way to say “follow me”.

Since you had to go in the same direction, you were left no choice but to walk together with him, but you felt a bit strange about the change in the attitude of the boy. You wondered if he was the type of person who constantly wanted to make an impression.

In truth, you had soon discovered that to simply put it, Kuroo Tetsurou was a person with a thousand facets. Sometimes he was arrogant, but other times he was extremely humble; sometimes he could be a bit of a dick, but at times he could also be surprisingly kind; sometimes it seemed like he didn’t care about people that much, other times he almost seemed maternal. There was one thing that was constant, though, and that was that having to deal with him was always fun. And it was particularly fun when the boy was dumbfounded by the fact that you, unlike most of the girls in the school, didn’t hang on his words.

It wasn’t like you didn’t notice the remarkable charm of the boy, but you had imposed upon yourself to keep a certain distance at least until you had the chance to get to know him better.

Being classmates had been a source of information, but you had the impression he wasn’t completely himself in that environment. New clues started to arrive the first time he invited you to watch one of his friendly matches. He had heard you telling a friend and classmate that you were free that afternoon and he had immediately taken advantage of that, saying that you couldn’t miss the chance to see the great volleyball team of Nekoma High.

Sceptical, but curious, you had accepted the invite and followed the boy to the gym, where he had briefly introduced you to his teammates, and particularly to Kenma, who you later discovered was his best friend.

While the boys had gone into the locker room to change, you had found a place on the bleachers and shortly after a parade of boys in red had appeared in front of you. Needless to say, red suited him. The other team arrived soon and, after a bit of warming-up, the match began.

You had watched some matches on the TV, but looking at the movements of the players from up-close was rather exciting and you soon realised that Kuroo was a very good player. He had scored many points with his serves, strikes and blocks, but that wasn’t all. Even if he had neglected to mention it, he was the captain of the team and you had had the chance to overhear the speech he had delivered to his teammates. It was something about blood and bringing oxygen to the brain. It had seemed quite peculiar but at the same time…

BOOM. You got hit by a ball in the face, on your left eyebrow to be precise. You hadn’t had the time to avoid it because you were completely lost in thought and you had seen it just at the very last moment. The boy who had hit the ball last - you discovered later that it had been a receive gone bad - apologised over and over for a while and then the match continued normally, but you had noticed the worried expression of your voluminous haired friend.

After the match, Kuroo had insisted on walking you home and, as soon as you had gone far enough from the school, he had taken you aside and caressed your temple gently, making you stare at his dark eyes in surprise.

“Does it hurt?” he asked you, concern clouding his eyes.

“No, I think it’s just slightly swollen. I haven’t had a chance to check my face in a mirror yet, but maybe it’s better this way,” you said with a chuckle.

“Damned Yaku, of all the days he had to make that mistake today…” Kuro seemed upset and moved his hand, gesturing while talking.

You stopped one of his hands by gently taking his wrist in your hand. “Kuroo, everything’s alright. By tomorrow I won’t even remember this happened.” You smiled. “Furthermore, that guy played like a god today, so I really don’t think you can get mad at him.”

Kuroo gave you a suspicious look and started walking again. “Is that so? And what do you think about me then?”

You followed him, walking side by side. “Mmh… let me think…” You were playing. You knew that Kuroo wanted to hear you said that he was good, but it was funny to make him suffer just a little.

The boy looked at you sideways. “If you talk like this, you make me start to think that maybe you deserved being hit by that ball.”

You laughed and then finally replied. “You’ve played very well, Kuroo. I’m no expert in volleyball but watching you play was very interesting.”

While you walked and looked at the little shops you were passing by, you smiled and the lights of the windows reflected in your eyes. “Mmh…” you pondered for a moment.

“What is it?” he asked, interested.

“That speech about blood… could you explain it to me? I couldn’t hear the whole of it.” You turned briefly toward him and glimpsed a hint of surprise in his eyes.

“Oh… it’s just a speech I make before we start the match to psych up the others.”

“Yeah, I got that part, but what does it mean?”

“Well, in our team the essential element is Kenma. Not just because he’s the setter, but also because he has an incredible analytical capacity that allows him to always choose the best strategies.” Kuro looked at you for a moment and then brought his gaze in front of him again. “For this reason, he is the brain. And we, his teammates, have the responsibility to make the ball arrive at him in the best way possible, like the oxygen must flow in the blood. This way he can play to the best of his capabilities. That’s all.” The boy put his hands in his pockets.

You pondered for a moment. “I understand. It makes sense now that you say it,” you paused for a second, already smiling internally, “you surely couldn’t have been referring to yourself when you talked about the brain.” You had pronounced the sentence in a perfectly serious tone, so serious that Kuroo had needed a moment before understanding that you were teasing him.

“Y/n!” he exclaimed in a scolding tone, turning at you.

“Hey, I have never given you the permission to call me by my first name, you know?”

The boy said nothing and replied with a crafty expression instead and then turned his gaze back in front of him, sighing and walking faster, as if you weren’t there anymore.

You quickened your pace in order to keep up with him and nudged him lightly. “I was kidding. As much as I’d like to affirm the contrary, you’re not dumb.”

The boy didn’t turn at you, pretending to be offended, but slowed down his pace so that you could start walking normally again.

After a while, you arrived in front of your house. “We’re here,” you said gesturing at your house. “I still don’t get why you wanted to accompany me home since you live on the opposite side of town. It will take you forever to get home now.” You were close to your gate, the feet together and your gaze towards your shoes.

“I clearly did it because I like you. Wasn’t it obvious at this point?” the boy replied with a candour only he could muster.

You felt a clench in your stomach and raised your eyes, meeting those of the boy. For a moment you had thought that he was joking – you had always thought that the interest he had shown to you was just a friendly fondness – but his face was terribly serious.

You tried to say something, but your voice got stuck and your mouth remained half-open,  without a single sound coming out of it.

“I’d like to kiss you now, y/n,” said Kuroo, his eyes intense and fixed on you.

You remained speechless once more, your breathing passing quickly in and out of your mouth.

Kuroo leaned forward – his dark eyes hadn’t left you a single instant – and kissed you. The kiss lasted about three seconds and it was a simple kiss, just a contact between your lips, but it was enough to make your head spin. Then the boy straightened himself, shot you his signature sneer and took a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I expect you to be a bit more… talkative.” The sneer got bigger and even before he turned around and started walking home a red hue began to spread across your face and a smile rose slowly until your cheeks started looking like small knobs.

Part 2

[maine-writes]

Vonvon's Space Adventure, Part 3

Another resplendent scene of Beach City. The azure waves crashed upon the golden sand, darkening it to an earthy hue. Steven and Connie eagery awaited the crystalline vessel descending from the atmosphere. Its ivory body glimmered in the sun, its strking eyes looking ever onward toward the horizon. To them at least, their darling child's weekend went without a hitch. But little did they know of the horrors that transpired on a distant world.

It began on a Saturday.

"So, where are we going again?" Vonvon asked.

Shortly after waking up from a rather restless night, Vonvon was brought aboard White Diamond's ship; a massive, crystalline upper torso. All they were told was that the Diamonds had prepared a "game" of sorts. After all, children enjoy games, at least that was what Spinel told the Diamonds.

White Diamond sat in her command chair, supervising her bridge crew. The central viewscreen above was focused on a strange alien world. White clouds swirled around the northern hemisphere, a vast ocean covered a majority of the planet, which had only three major landmasses.

"Vonvon." said the Diamond, directing their attention to the planet. "This was Exoplanet D-23, one of Blue's. Despite initial findings, she deemed the planet unfit for full colonization."

"So what happened to it?"

"She decided to use it as an educational facility. Gems under her supervision were sent here for training." She continued. "This was once a place where Sapphires would go to learn proper etiquette and learn how to decipher their visions. If I remember correctly, the Sapphire you are familiar with spent some time here herself."

When the ship landed, Vonvon looked out an idyllic, tropical landscape. To their surprise, the seas were relatively shallow, no deeper than several meters. There were extremely deep pools, however, which were noticably darker as their depths descended deep into the limestone below. Strewn all across the landscape were sandbars and the occasional solid landmasses, with crystalline trees sprouting out from them. The combination of the warm sun and salty breeze refreshed Vonvon's little body.

They then looked to the distance, spotting great spires on the horizon. These were once the courts of Blue Diamond, where countless Gems would congregate and speak on matters and events from across the great dominions of Homeworld. These were places of culture and refinement.

"What do the Gems there do now?" Vonvon inquired.

"Whatever they desire, dear." Said the Diamond. "Blue still occasionally holds court here, mostly to hear about what they've experienced."

The child wondered if they were going to meet with these Gems. But it seemed as if the Diamonds had another idea.

White led Vonvon to a massive, dome-shaped construct that stood on crystalline pillars in the water. Inside, they were greeted by a crew of Gems and the other two Diamonds.

"Welcome to a Gem warfare command center." Yellow Diamond said, visibly excited for the day's activity.

"Command center?" Vonvon wondered.

"According to our studies on what sort of games human child enjoy," Yellow explained, "We've decided on allowing you an opportunity to command a small army for war games. Blue, White, and I will be commanding our own forces, while you try to take our command centers."

The Diamonds led the child to their small, human-sized command chair in the center of the room. It was elevated over a crew of diligently working Gems, who were making their final preparations and communications checks.

"Are the Gems okay with this?" Vonvon sheepishly asked.

"As you know, with the beginning of Era 3, Gems are free to pursue whatever lifestyles they desired." Blue Diamond assured them. "Some, however, didn't know what to do with themselves and so we organized a number of activities for them."

"Does Papa know about these sort of games?"

"W-Well, no." White Diamond said. "Your mother suggested that we not tell him of her idea."

Vonvon wasn't at all surprised that their mother suggested that militaristic Gems take part in these war games. But they did wonder if she took part in any herself. The more they thought about it, they began to wonder about the large rolls of paper that Connie kept hidden in the broom closet that somewhat resembled battle plans.

Vonvon was given an hour to prepare their forces as the Diamonds left for their command centers. The game seemed easy enough, command units to capture bases, and only after capturing all their bases can forces move on the command center. Units included artillery, cavalry, armored, infantry, logistical support, and air support.

As the Diamonds left, Vonvon excitedly waved them good-bye, joined by Spinel. But as soon as the doors closed, the child's demeanor instantly changed.

"Alright, Spinel show me what we have to work with."

Outside of the command center, Vonvon's grand army awaited. As soon as they saw the child, the thunderous echo of hundreds of Gems standing at attention and giving the child the old Homeworld salute filled the air.

"Good morning, General!" Said hundreds of voices.

Vonvon donned a pair of violently outlandish and dramatically pink visors, as pointy as they were outrageous, as they took a deep breath.

"Smell that, Spinel?" They said as they popped a lollipop in their mouth. "Smells like a good day for war."

Little did the Diamonds know, Connie had trained her child for this day. Fire Emblem, Advance Wars, Chess, Risk, Monopoly, years of playing strategy games and dealing with Connie's competitiveness were about to pay off.

"I wonder what Vonvon did all weekend." Steven said as he and his wife watched White Diamond's ship descend from the upper atmosphere.

As the door at the front of giant crystal torso opened up, the pair were greeted by Vonvon and White Diamond, the former decorated in military medals, flashy regalia, and a flowing, dramatic cape.

"Mama! Papa!" Vonvon laughed as they ran to their parents.

Steven was relieved everything seemed to have gone well, but wondered about Vonvon's strange outfit.

"Had a fun weekend?" He asked, looking up to White Diamond.

"Oh, absolutely!" She assured him as Yellow and Blue Diamond emerged from the ship. "They're a regular chip off the old Gem!"

"They remind me of myself when I was newly emerged." Yellow Diamond added, wiping an emotional tear from her eye.

"Huh?" Steven asked. "What did you guys do all weekend?"

"Pretty sure they just played games, hun." Connie quickly interjected.

"Like Battleship?"

"Sure."

While Steven was distracted with an excited little Vonvon, who was babbling what sounded like nonsense, Blue Diamond caught Connie's attention.

"They caused a little damage in their first battle." She whispered to Connie. "So our usual game will have to be postponed until the repairs are finished."

"What game?" Steven inquired, curious as to what the two were talking about.

"Chess." Connie said.

"Chess? I didn't know Blue played chess."

"You child is surprisingly sharp." Blue said, consciously failing to mention the sea of carnage they left on the distant world. "How was the colony?"

"W-Well..." Steven began as a distant, orange dot appeared in the distance.

Slowly, the dot came closer, changing into a large, humanoid shape.

"Steven!" Jasper yelled as she approached. "I formally request that you expla-!"

Vonvon noticed both Steven and Connie sigh while the Diamonds looked on in both confusion. They then had an idea.

"Jasper Facet-9 Cut-1T4!" They barked.

The big, buff Quartz stiffened up, straightened her back, and crossed her arms in salute.

"What is the meaning of this insubordination?!" They continued.

"I-It is not insubordination!" Jasper explained. "As Steven's bodyguard, I only wanted to do my duty and prove that I am as capable as Connie!"

"Elaborate."

"I simply request an explanation for what Connie can do for Steven that I cannot."

"Oh, that's a good question." Vonvon innocently noted. "You are a big, strong Gem. Mama can swordfight, but I don't think she can crush rocks with a headbutt."

Everyone, including the Diamonds, looked to Steven and Connie, waiting for an explanation. They could feel everyone's gaze piercing their souls, unblinking, unwavering.

"I'll handle this." Garnet announced, appearing without explanation. As she whispered something to Jasper, the big, orange Gem glanced over at Steven and Connie, then down to Vonvon.

"That's disgusting!" She screamed.

"It's what humans do." Garnet shrugged. "Rose did it."

Jasper struggled to process the information she was given. She then approached Connie.

"You survived what Pink Diamond could not." She said, deflated. "You truly are more capable than me."

Fortunately, Vonvon and the Diamonds weren't curious enough to ask Garnet about what she told Jasper. But more importantly, Jasper wasn't going to bother Steven or Connie again.

@artsycooky13

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (4/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

So here is the next chapter of division of labor. I had intended to drop it today for a long time. I didn't expect it to coincide with leaks so sorry for the slight mood whiplash.

Anyway, thank you to the anons on tumblr for asking about this fic. I still find it pretty surreal that people actually think about my work, let alone send asks about it.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Having lived alone for all of his high school life and some of his middle school life, Levi was sure of one thing.

Cooking is fun. Except when it is graded.

In fact, nothing can be fun when someone is behind them watching their every move telling them their performance in that one activity can determine a grade and that grade can determine their future. As Levi and Hange surveyed the ingredients in front of them, Erwin was behind them. Of all the workstations he had chosen to hang out in, it happened to be theirs.

As Levi looked at the other workstations, he could see Nanaba to his left already cracking two eggs into a bowl next to Mike. Bertholdt who was working in front of them with his pair Reiner was already cutting up what looked like cheese cubes. To his right was his own pair Hange who was shaking the eggs to her ear.

“Just to check if they’re boiled,” she explained. Levi did not even notice he had given her a judgemental look until she avoided his gaze looking a little self conscious.

Of course they wouldn’t be boiled. They were supposed to be doing everything from scratch. Why did he and Hange in particular look the most clueless? Why weren’t they doing anything? Levi looked behind him again to see Erwin still staring at both of them. I’m not clueless. Levi had to remind himself. He preplanned and prepared meals multiple times a week. He could make anything from the ingredients laid out in front of him. Eggs. Cheese. Celery. Instant noodles.

Why the hell is there instant noodles. What am I supposed to be making?

That ordeal only fueled his hatred for surprise tasks. He hated pop quizzes. Particularly because he had the cursed history of not knowing exactly what would be asked during the actual quizzes but having comprehensive knowledge in another facet of whatever topic they discussed in class. At that moment, he could have gladly given an oral exam about why exactly putting a washing machine in the bathroom was a good idea. Hange probably would have been able to do a practical exam or presentation explaining why a rent-to-own scheme was the best option for homeowners.

Both he and Hange though, probably spent at the most ten minutes running through that meal plan which was biting them so painfully in the ass at that moment. On top of that, the restrictions were ridiculous and unnecessary.

“No checking the recipe?” It was Connie that time towards the front of the room who was protesting the ridiculous restriction put on them. “I thought you’re supposed to be simulating adulthood. In real life everyone could just research the recipes? ”

“What if you don’t have wifi but you have eggs and vegetables in front of you and you need to cook breakfast?” Erwin challenged.

“We’ll have recipe books.” Sasha answered.

Erwin raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the Connie and Sasha pair. “Will your current financial situation allow that?”

Levi found some solace in Erwin’s comment. Maybe, just maybe that meant that they weren’t the only pair currently burning in hell financially in this little game of adulting. He looked to Hange and the face she made as Erwin had said the words `current financial situation’ and “allow” in the same sentence, Levi guessed that Erwin’s comment probably applied to them as a pair too.

“It is important at least for all of you to know the basics of cooking a nice meal even without the recipe.

Levi sighed. He lived alone and he knew they didn’t need it. Levi had a recipe book for easy recipes at home and almost always had wifi anyway. Nobody actually needed to memorize recipes. He was aware though of the culture of schools to know that schools always made things harder than they were supposed to be.

At least when you’re in the real world, things will be so much easier because you’ve had it hard already. Some teachers would defend. Making things unnecessarily hard though wasn’t at all an effective way to get people good at things. Sometimes, making things unnecessarily hard only left students with chronic unresolved tensions with certain formulas, academic concepts and sometimes even mundane objects they had encountered too many times in an academic setting. In fact, he started to feel the beginnings of it when he encountered washing machines and Japanese style house designs while he went grocery shopping that weekend. A few times he also could have sworn he’d seen Hange recoil at hearing the words ‘debit’ and ‘credit.’

“Maybe we should boil the eggs?” Hange lined up the ingredients on the counter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Levi asked, or more specifically panicked. Around him he could see the others already turning on the stove. Watching Hange observe the ingredients was only a grave reminder of their own incompetence.

“I’m just trying to arrange the ingredients in different ways. Maybe a good idea will come to mind.” She paused for a second. “Scrambled eggs?”

"Hear me out Hange, what if it isn't scrambled eggs." The ingredients all pointed to scrambled eggs or an omelette. In front of them there was a pan, a skillet, eggs, butter and vegetables. That seemed like the most reasonable option. Having taken tests and quizzes for most of his life though, Levi was a master of the art of ‘doubting one’s self’ in high pressure situations where every decision equated to a deduction. “Why is there a pack of instant noodles?” Whether he had intended to or not, Levi had ended up saying his thoughts out loud.

Hange paused for a second, pressing her thumb to her lips in thought, her eyes completely fixed on the pack of instant noodles in front of her. She looked like she was starting to doubt herself too. “You’re right. Levi, why are there instant noodles? Didn’t you make the meal plan?”

“Didn’t you check it?”

“I did check it. If i remember correctly, there was a recipe for scrambled eggs. But there should have been vegetables.” Hange brought the instant noodles pack closer to her and closely read through it. “Wait a minute. This is chow mein? I thought chow mein was a type of vegetable. Why the hell would you put instant noodles in scrambled eggs?”

Instant noodles and scrambled eggs. For some reason, it hadn’t clicked when all he saw were the ingredients in front of him. With Hange bringing up the two key ingredients of eggs and instant noodles, he started to remember what revisions he had made to that particular recipe. “It’s cheaper to make omelette rice with instant noodles than with actual rice.” He admitted lightly.

“Levi! We’re graded for nutritional value. Did you not read the rubrics?”

Levi looked away. In fact he had failed to read the rubrics. “Weren’t you supposed to be checking my work?

“I did check it.”

“Then why did you think chowmein is a type of vegetable? Aren’t you a fan of botany?”

“Levi there are at least one thousand vegetables to think of. You can’t expect me to keep track of all of them.”

Levi then realized that maybe having too much information in one’s brain was a little disadvantageous. Hange may be right that there are thousands of types of vegetables in the world. Levi was sure though that only at least fifty of those types would have been available in an average supermarket. You don’t really go grocery shopping much do you? A part of him had wanted to criticize her and maybe start a little argument.

The clatter of pots and pans around him and the urgent sounding voices was only telling him one thing, time was running. They had to churn something up or risk failing that quiz. He wished at least he could have double checked the rubrics. Alas, their phones were in their bags, all gathered towards the front of the rooms. All they had armed with them then was their procedural memory and the many ingredients in front of them.

Maybe, just maybe though we could do a little improvisation. Levi made eye contact with Hange as he said it. It looked like she had read his mind, Hange reached out for the instant noodles in front of him, ready to slip the pack silently into her pocket.

“If I find out any of you revised any of your recipes or you miss out on one ingredient, expect a 50% deduction for this test,” Erwin announced from behind them.

Within a second, the pack of instant noodles was back on the table and that flash of understanding between Levi and Hange had changed to one of horror and panic. Did he notice?

“Marco, I really cannot remember why the hell I needed so many of these spices in the first place.” Jean said apologetically from his station to their right.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have asked your mom to make the meal plan in the first place then.” Marco sounded surprisingly pissed.

At least they weren’t the only one in hell’s kitchen.

                                  Division of Labor

By some silent agreement, all meetings with his actual friends were cancelled. It was as if everyone in the room had unanimously decided to make up for that disaster of a kitchen quiz by working on the next deliverable days before it was due. It was as if everyone was sure they had failed Erwin’s little pop quiz

Or long test. Erwin though never gave the breakdown of how much of their grade that disaster in the kitchen was. Levi found some assurance at least in the fact that everyone did look as unsure as they were about it. They can’t fail the whole class right?

Either way, a failing grade is still a failing grade. Levi and Hange had gone for the plan of omelette rice having kept the instant noodles revision. And with nutritional value a 60% of their grade for the actual meal plan, their expectations for their grades were low. On the bright side at least, Erwin said that there would be more pop quizzes in the kitchen, so they just had to memorize the recipe of whatever they put in the meal plan the next time around.

It would be painstaking, Levi was sure. But as students he and Hange had been forced to memorize formulas, kingdoms and phyla, vocabulary words, thesis statements, poems and dialogues. That should be nothing. Levi though had a building resentment for the subject, particularly the fact that no one had prepared them for that type of stress at all. None of the seniors ever had to do this type of program and thus, Levi was completely unprepared mentally for ‘adulting.’

Welcome to adulthood. That was what was written on the top of the questionnaire he and Hange were supposed to be submitting by Friday midnight. It was Wednesday afternoon of that week and he was grateful Hange had even suggested they start earlier. Only that morning, Erwin had submitted a new list of deliverables which seemed more comprehensive than the last.

September*

Week 1

Meal Plan

Investment Plan Part I: Disposable Income

Pop quiz

Week 2

Education Plan for Kids

Module 2 (See attached fail)

Pop quiz

Week 3 - 4

TBA

While Hange answered some of the questions on the questionnaire, Levi could only stare at the module in his email. He had promised Hange he would look into it while she filled out her part of the questionnaire. His eyes though were stuck on the little typo

Fail. He was sure Erwin meant file. In that type of module though, he would consider that typo almost fatal since the whole program was already screaming the words ‘failure’ at him.

He had to note at least that Erwin put the words pop quiz there for every week. He couldn’t help but think it was due to the fact that everyone had failed that last cooking exam and that was a sign of some mercy on the teacher’s side.

He clicked the module below the email to find that the file was too large at least for google to open. Oh, I guess it’s too large to open on my phone. It might slow it down after all. A petty excuse but he was just tired and instead decided to entrust the responsibility of opening said document to the Levi of a few hours later who would be in front of an actual computer.

“The file is too big to open on my phone. Sorry, I didn’t think about bringing my laptop today.” Levi’s words weren’t too sincere. A part of him was telling him never to bring his laptop on campus in the first place and was thankful for that bout of irresponsibility. Delaying the inevitable at present is always such a sweet feeling after all.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t too hard to fill out what’s needed. We just needed to assign rooms for Flora and Fauna…” Hange started looking pointedly at the flour babies who were leaning by the window of the diner they started to frequent. “Then break down our budget for other things like furniture, groceries, household necessities…”

She slid the paper over to Levi. As if by magic, his brain just shut down at seeing the numbers out there. A part of him though, a more tenacious part was nagging at him to comment at the computations in front of him.

He focused on the words not the numbers. There were calculations for household necessities like detergent and cleaning wax, groceries, baby stuff, utility bills. Somehow it was only making Levi feel more useless for not even understanding what she was writing.

So you have to comment. Levi willed himself to open his mouth and rack his brain for something reasonable and useful to say. Those thoughts on his end all culminated to two words. “Washing machine... “

“What? You’re still not over that?”

“You really don’t want the washing machine in the bathroom?”

“Levi, we’ve been over this!” Hange said, looking exasperated. Within a split second, her look softened into something else then within a second twisted into what looked like shame or embarrassment. “Yeah, I don’t think we even have the money to pay for that in installments now. But hey, a washing machine isn’t a necessity right? Like handwashing is still a thing.”

Levi didn’t agree. He knew in the back of his mind that anything that made cleaning easier was a necessity. Hange though had made the calculations and as a form of respect for her hardwork and a punishment for himself and his inability to have been of any use with that questionnaire, he kept quiet.

He just had to trust her. Group works were all about trust after all.

                                      Division of Labor

“Your answers were all a fucking mess. If adulting was a war, none of you would make it back alive. All of you will starve with your shitty planning and resource conserving skills.” Shadis waved a wad of papers so magnificently over his head as he slammed them on the table. “I want to hear your justifications for making such idiotic decisions. Maybe that can bring up your grade to a D at least.”

“Blouse Springer!”

“Yes sir!” Sasha stood up instinctively.

“Connie join your partner!”

“We have to sta---?” Connie’s eyes widened as if he realized a second later the disrespect in what he had just said. He stood up a split second after. “Yes sir!”

“Tell me again. What are your jobs?”

Connie looked at the documents and back at him. “Is what we put in the document… wrong… sir?”

“What. Are. Your. Jobs?”

Sasha and Connie exchanged glances and looked back up at him. “I’m a marketing specialist…” Connie started. “And Sasha---”

“Journalist sir.”

“So you have eight to five jobs right?”

“Yes we do,” Connie answered.

“And three kids?”

The two nodded in sync. “Yes sir,” Sasha said. “Or that’s what I remember…” In fact, she shouldn’t have had to recall that. The three flour sacks were on their desk after all. “Did we miss one?”

Shadis ignored them. “Then why did you tick ‘no babysitter’ here?”

“Are we supposed to tick it sir?” Connie asked. A brave question that had everyone in the classroom more silent than they had been a second ago.

“You have eight to five jobs and three children. So are you telling me you will take the kids to work?

“Are we allowed? The fee for a babysitter everyday just seems… extravagant.”

That wasn’t the right word. The right word was exorbitant. As some of the people in the class would have agreed. Many could see though that Connie was shaking at the incessant questions and that should have been the last of his concerns.

Shadis though seemed unpreturbed at the wrong word choice. “Well what if your boss doesn’t allow you to bring three kids to work?”

“Then we leave them at home?”

“And you know that’s illegal?”

The silence in the room had become deafening.

“You can be sued for child neglect,” Shadis expounded

“But how would they know?” It was a bold question from Connie

The room exploded in hesitant mutters only silenced a second later by Shadis’ eerily cold reply. “Social workers are very perceptive people, Connie. I’m surprised you’re even underestimating them. Be ready to pay attorney dues for this.” He wrote something on the paper on his desk which was probably Connie and Sasha’s submission before pushing it to the bottom of the pile.

“Next pair��Ackerman Zoe. Stand up.”

By lunchtime, Levi was in a trance, a very strong strance. He did not even notice the students who had filed out of the classroom for lunch, his eyes completely fixed on the beautiful view of the school courtyard as the leaves started to change color.

That was not what he was admiring though. He wasn’t actually admiring anything. Although his eyes were fixed at such a beautiful view, his brain had done nothing to process it.

“So… You wanna talk about the next output?” That familiar voice sounded like a screech to Levi and it was more than enough to pull him out.

“We are so fucked.” Levi’s words were almost instinctive. It was as if just hearing Hange’s voice sent his whole body into panic mode. Of course he would, having just been grilled by Shadis and having one’s incompetence exposed could do that to anyone.

“There’s an output every week. We’ll be fine,” Hange assured.

Levi could only stare at Hange. He had know idea what kind of face he was making. All he could think then though was the fact that she out of the two of them should have been in a worse state of panic than he was.

And her calm ironically only stressed him out further. Having been reeling from the stress of it for almost four hours, Levi still remembered their exchange perfectly.

"Okay Ackerman… Just a homemaker. And Zoe. You’re working freelance?

"So Levi and I decided that I'll be a scientist and he'll take care of the house," Hange had said so confidently.

"What about taxes?"

“Taxes?”

“I looked at the breakdown of your budget Zoe. You didn’t mention anything about taxes.”

“I’m freelance sir.”

“Zoe, has it ever occured to you that freelancers pay taxes too?”

And their lesson of the day came soon after that exchange. The tasks were detailed and demanded a lot of thought. Through all they had learned over that one painful exchange and maybe through the glimpses of the next few exchanges he had so half heartedly watched, he had learned a lot.

He could have easily summarized it all into one sentence though. Do not take Erwin's tasks with a grain of salt.

Erwin had thought everything through. It could have been by coincidence or it could have also been just a lack of thought on the side of the students but somehow the set up Erwin had was exposing the weaknesses of the students when it came to learning, and possibly their potential weaknesses when it comes to actual adulting.

"I’m deducting the taxes already."

"You heard Shadis, It's too late the hypothetical government is out to get us.” Levi added the word hypothetical to at least help himself bask in the fact that it was still a simulation. “We’re getting penalized.”

Hange smiled wryly. “Fine, we’re kinda financially… going through a rough patch,” She admitted. “But we’re not the only ones going through this type of financial bump. Eren and Mikasa, Sasha and Connie, Reiner and Bertholdt, Petra and Oluo…” Hange trailed off. “I mean okay Armin and Annie looked like they were doing fine but back in the supermarket, they looked kinda confused too.”

“A failing grade is a failing grade.”

“But Levi, they can’t fail the whole class.” Hearing that Hange was somehow very reassuring.

Hange was right. Teachers can’t fail a whole class and Levi was aware of two methods teachers tend to employ when dealing with an underperforming class: employ a curve or give extra credit.

Levi should have known though from his short yet very tumultuous few weeks with that adulting program that a curve would have seemed a little too merciful for their teachers.

With the uncomfortable look Erwin gave the class, Levi was sure at least a majority of the class had fucked up financially. How exactly, he was unsure.

Right after they had finished their own mini oral exam, Levi had fallen into a trance. A trance, trying to think up a back up life just in case he never manages to graduate high school or make it to college.

Misery though loves company. Especially when it’s a whole class failing. Levi was not the type to want to wish misfortune on anyone else. Being as completely idiotic and dense as he and Hange were though, Levi found himself grateful for the unfortunate situation the class found themselves in,

“It looks like a lot of you are struggling financially. Zeke and I had a quick talk about this actually…”

Levi’s blood ran cold at the name, Zeke. At that point, he didn’t know if he hated Zeke or he hated Math. Looking back at Zeke’s unfavorable personality, he was guessing probably both.

“And we realized it would be beneficial if we introduce the possibility of finding other sources of income which would be a good lesson in financial management.”

There were some sighs of disappointment among the class. Levi empathized. In fact, he probably would have joined them as well if he weren’t so jaded by the course of events already. Still, a small part of him had hoped as well that they would just raise their salaries.

That was the equivalent of a curve though and Levi somehow knew, grading on the curve was just not Erwin’s style.

“So I am introducing two options to increase your income. One is through investments which will be taught by Zeke another day and another one is through this ‘new system’ I thought out.” Erwin looked a little too proud of that ‘new system.’

“We will be offering extra tasks you may choose to take around the school, these include cleaning, admin tasks, lab work and anything else the teachers may need help done. Each task will have a corresponding pay which can be added to your income for that month.”

So it’s exploitable free labor. Levi thought to himself. He was sure he wasn’t the only one thinking of that. Everyone in the room was desperate though. In the end, despite the questionable set up, it had come out looking like a gesture of generosity from their teacher. Levi saw that in the way a lot of the students around him looked relieved to hear that announcement.

“Or we can just choose to budget within our means?” Annie spoke up from her place on the front next to Armin. She was notably calmer than a lot of people in the room. Levi had suspected for a while though that Armin and Annie weren’t in as much trouble financially.

“I’m sure though a lot of you would want to earn more money,” Erwin said, a knowing smile on his face. “You can exchange these for this thing I will be introducing called ‘disposable income tokens’ and if you collect enough, you can get a free ticket out of doing one of the modules or the pop quizzes of the week of your choice.”

[curiosity-killed]

second look

part 1 | part 2

fun fact: Sirion’s name means protector/guardian bc it’s my made-up language in my made-up country in my made-up story and I can make it mean what I want

Word count: 1936

A week later, Sirion is assigned to the prince’s personal guard. Some of his surprise must show on his face, because Jemma’s lips quirk up in amusement. “He must have liked you,” she says. Two guards go with him under his command, and he stations them outside the door, to take the place of the watch before them. Sirion himself takes a deep, bracing breath before pushing open the study door. He’s never been in royal chambers before, and he can scarcely guess at the opulence of the imperator princep’s private chambers. Gold everywhere? A hundred generations’ worth of artwork and souvenirs from war? Of all the imperator princeps, only Anharad never slept here, and it was she who oversaw the rooms’ design, back when Ancelm was only a dream and the throne still sat in Aerisilia, that long-dead city remembered now only in legend. He passes through the narrow entry hall, tight and dark, and into the sunlit study. He met with the lieutenant he’s to replace – Brandolin – outside, and the room is silent and empty save for the prince sitting at his desk.

The room is sparser than he expected: bookshelves stretch nearly to the ceiling on two of the walls, and three narrow windows cut through the third, letting in long shafts of afternoon sun. Twin archways, curtained, stand on either side of an unlit hearth on the fourth wall. A grille closes off that opening, though if he’s honest, he can’t imagine how someone would find a way through that chimney anyway. “Good afternoon, S-I-R-I-O-N,” the prince signs in greeting.

Sirion bows low, arm folded over his chest, before replying. “Thank you, Your Eminence.” Wrinkling his nose, the prince slides his quill back into the inkwell and turns his attention fully to Sirion. He has dark eyes, nearly black, and they’re surprisingly intense when they’re focused on him alone. “Please, ‘Callebero’ will suffice,” he signs, using a shorthand gesture for his name. Sirion has seen the sign used around the captains and some of the senior guards, but it feels presumptuous to address the imperator princep with only a quick backward flick of his hand. His proper title requires both hands and three composite signs, and it somehow seems more fitting than this quick tilt of one hand. “You do not mind the informality?” he asks cautiously. The prince shrugs. He’s dressed all in black today with only silver trim on his sides and collar. Only his crown and the thin, drop-like earrings swaying from his ears glitter gold. It gives him a severe appearance that belies his youth. Dressed like this, he looks like the imperator princep. “The captains have been chasing after me since infancy,” he says, “and you lieutenants will one day be my captains. How can I trust you to give me your honest judgment if I insist on absurd titles and honorifics? It seems calling me by my name is at least a step toward being willing to tell me when a plan is foolhardy – or worse.” The corner of his lips quirk up towards the end, as if at the thought of anyone being so bold. Sirion can hardly imagine it. Young as he is, he is still the imperator princep – the bloodsworn commander of the empire. A word from him could sever anyone’s head from their body. “Then, I thank you for this trust, Callebero,” Sirion signs. It feels wrong, but he will have to get used to it. The last thing he wants to do is hobble his own advancement by insulting the prince over such a silly thing. For his part, the prince seems to relax at the loss of the honorifics. “And thank you for yours, S-I-R-I-O-N,” he says. Sirion hesitates before: “If it pleases you, most everyone uses ‘Sirion,’” he signs, signing the nickname twice for clarity. It’s a play on the meaning of his name, of sorts: the sign for ‘shield’ unfurling into the first letter of his name. The prince – Callebero – watches closely before nodding with a little smile. “Then, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sirion,” he signs. It seems silly, and Sirion has to fight to hide a smile. Of all things, he hadn’t expected to be amused by the prince. He settles into parade rest to keep an eye on the doors and windows. A grown adult couldn’t fit through the windows in one piece, but an arrow could make it through with enough skill and luck. The archways to the prince’s quarters are another concern, of course. According to the plans they all memorize of the palace, there is a door leading from there to the hallway and another leading to the prince’s bath, which, of course, connects to the public baths. Even with guards and servants along the route, a determined assassin could find their way to the prince through the warren beneath the palace. Curtains hang down to the floor in the archways, swaying in the afternoon breeze. A rogue gust catches the curtains and flicks open a glimpse of dark wood, a stack of books – Sirion averts his gaze. “I don’t suppose you have much practice reading proposals, do you?” The question jars Sirion, bringing his attention swinging from the entry hall to where the prince has his head braced in one hand. He glances up for Sirion’s reply. All Sirion can manage, though, is confusion. “I’m joking,” the prince says. He sighs. “Well, more like wishful thinking. I still have – oh, seventy more petitions to read, and my eyes are starting to cross.” Sirion frowns. “Beg pardon, but you are reading petitions?” he asks. It seems an innate contradiction. For centuries, petitions have been an immutable facet of the government, the rare chance for the citizens to speak with their emperor. He’s never heard of them being written down. “Oh, right.” There’s a pause, where Sirion nearly regrets asking, before the prince goes on, “When I was crowned, it was – easier to bring the petitions back to discuss with advisors than trying to recall two hundred verbal petitions every single week. Now, I guess I’m just accustomed to the routine, and it seems a nuisance to change it. After all, not every petitioner can afford to stand in line for three hours, and it seems unjust to refuse them the opportunity because of age or injury or obligations.” Oh. Despite how juvenile he’d initially thought the prince, it’s easy to forget that he was a child when he took the throne. Sirion can’t imagine sitting in that stone hall for hours on end as a nine-year-old, much less having to remember and pass judgment on all those petitions hours later. Even as an adult, he doesn’t know how he would approach such a task. More than that, it’s surprisingly nice to hear the imperator princep think of his own people, even in a small way. For the first time, Sirion feels a genuine sense of regret for what he’d thought of the prince from their first meeting. 

“How do you go about picking the petitions to fulfill?” he asks. Perhaps it’s overstepping the boundaries of propriety, but if the prince insists on Sirion using his first name, he can’t imagine this will cause much of a rebuke. And despite himself, Sirion is intrigued. If he’d thought about the petitions at all, he would have assumed that the prince passed the task off to some committee of advisors or just picked whichever he remembered from last hearing them. The prince laughs, a bright grin flashing white over his face and scrunching up the skin by his eyes. “With great reluctance,” he says. Despite himself, Sirion can’t quite help a smile at the joke. The prince goes on, a little more serious but still far from solemn. “I try to read through all of them by at least two days before the next hearings,” he says. “That way I can think over them a bit and have my mind clear in time to listen to the next round. Each week, I try to pick which I would select if these were the only ones I heard all month. And then, at the end of the month, I make the final decision.” “That is quite a process,” Sirion remarks. The prince laughs and nods. “Yes, it’s a wonder I get anything else done,” he says before pausing. The corners of his lips are still pulled up, but he bites briefly at his bottom lip before shrugging slightly and looking up. “To be honest, though, I think it’s the part I like best about being the prince. It feels…more direct somehow, than the rest of it.” Canting his head, Sirion gives a slight nod as he processes that. As little as he knows about ruling, he does imagine it to be a distant thing. After all, with the Council of Regents in place, it seems the prince could delegate all his work and run off free. He’d always imagined that to be the prince’s will: from his first impression, the prince had seemed wholly disinclined to work at the labors of ruling. Sirion’s beginning to understand that there’s more to the young ruler than he’d initially thought — but he’s surprised now by wondering how much, by wanting to know. “Not war?” he asks. He’s not sure why he does except that he can’t help thinking of that sparring match. The prince had moved with a focus, an intensity, that didn’t come from idle study, and there was little in the world more direct than battle. Now, though, the prince stills and his expression slides into something curiously blank. There’s no anger or disdain, but the easy smile that had curled on his lips and in the creases by his eyes has dissipated. He cants his head, lifts his eyebrows in something like a shrug, and the moment’s broken. “Well, it is more direct,” he admits. “My apologies, imperator,” Sirion signs. “I overstepped.” The prince snorts, a huff of laughter that startles Sirion more than the sudden blankness, and he shakes his head as he turns back to the petitions. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “There’s a reason our title is imperator. War is the domain of the prince — I just…I guess I don’t think of it as ruling, much.” He glances up, that smile returning in amusement in his gaze. “And I told you, it’s just Callebero.” This time, Sirion breathes out a laugh and nods. “Very well, Callebero.” Satisfied, the prince’s grin grows a little and he turns back to his work. Sirion can’t quite stifle his own smile as he returns to parade rest. Despite his earlier confusion and trepidation, he feels almost relaxed now. His eyes still scan over the room’s entrances for any hint of a disturbance — even the ridiculous fireplace – and he listens closely for any call from the corridor — but it seems a more pleasant task now. The occasional rustling of papers as the prince turns over a petition and adds it to one stack or another, the quiet hum he gives of consideration, are a strange comfort. It’s evening by the time his shift ends, and he passes the duty on to the Royal Protector with a bow and full debrief. The prince has moved on from petitions to some scroll that’s longer than the desk is wide, and he looks up only briefly to bid Sirion goodnight with a smile and flick of his free hand. Walking down the torchlit hallways back to the barracks, Sirion finds himself hoping that he’s put on guard duty again.  

[psychosistr]

FOWL Facets- Chapter 10

Summary: Steelbeak tells the girls he’s alive, and Domino tells everyone what he has planned for the future.

Notes: Ah, a short, sweet chapter to close out this emotional rollercoaster of a story. Hope you guys enjoyed it ^^

-First Chapter-

When arriving back in the main entryway, Steelbeak is hardly surprised to find a pair of striped arms wrapping around him from his shoulders to his ankles like a pair of snakes and pulling him right up to an overly-excited spinel hanging from the ceiling by her legs.

“Steely, you did it!” Loony stretches her neck and turns her head so that she’s looking at Steelbeak right-side up. “You made Dommy’s bad feelings go down!”

Steelbeak shrugs with one of his usual arrogant smirks. “Eh, what can I say? I’m just THAT friggin’ good.” After a minute, though, his face changes to a more strained smile. “Hey, Loons?”

“Yeah?” The stretchy spinel tilts her head curiously, still smiling brightly at him.

“Be a doll an’ put me down, would ya?” His eyes flick poignantly towards the floor a couple feet below.

Loony suddenly realizes that she is, in fact, still keeping the melanite suspended mid-air and gives him an apologetic smile. “Whoopsie-doodles! Sorry, Steely!” She sets him back down and unwraps her arms from around him.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, stretch- no harm done.” He tells her while fixing his suit.

“Surprisingly.” A voice from the lounging area beside him says.

Turning his head, to get a better look, Steelbeak is even less surprised to see Gandra reclined back on one of the benches while idly scrolling through something on a projected hologram-screen coming from the watch on her wrist. “And what’s that supposed t’ mean?”

“That you’re still alive.” The star-sapphire replies bluntly. “I’m surprised you made it through that in one piece.”

“Guess I’m just lucky.” Steelbeak’s eyes narrow at the other chicken, before he regains his earlier smirk. “Either that or SOMEONE’S lost her touch.” Oh, how he loves that challenging and frustrated glare he can always draw out when he pushes her buttons just right. “Somethin’ wrong, stardust?” He asks with the fakest sounding attempt at sympathy in the universe. “Hey, you ain’t lookin’ too happy there, toots. Shouldn’t we be celebratin’? I mean, it’s not like you really WANTED me gone, right?”

Gandra rolls her eyes at his taunting and makes her screen bigger to block out his smug face. “Think I’d celebrate more if you’d actually kicked the bucket..”

“So sorry t’ disappoint ya, Gee, but goin’ down that easy ain’t exactly my style.” The only thing Steelbeak enjoys more than teasing the star-sapphire for her height is calling her out on the extremely rare occasions where her predictions end up being off- it’s one of his favorite pastimes.

His laughter is interrupted by a voice too deep to be Gandra’s. “No, but being loud enough to shake the walls certainly is.” Turning to look at the hall he’d come in through earlier, Steelbeak sees Domino entering the main room as well.

“DOMMY!” Loony drops down from the ceiling next to the obsidian, arms ready to wrap him up in an excited hug. She stops just an inch shy, however, when a single black hand is raised in a silent request. “Oopsies!” Her arms instantly stop and retract before they even have a chance to grab the other gem. “Sorry, Dommy..”

Domino gives her a half-smile and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Loony..just..not right now, okay? Maybe later.” After receiving a happy and agreeable nod in return, Domino redirects his attention to the room as a whole, his demeanor shifting into something far more serious. “F.O.W.L. has been compromised by a Diamond loyalist.”

“If it’s true, then that’s a pretty big deal.” The screen in front of Gandra vanishes as she sits up properly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Domino answers definitively. “I always thought it was odd that none of my requests for information were ever answered or even followed up- if anything, there should have at least been a negative reply- but we were always sent out on long-term missions immediately following a request, most likely to distract me from how much time had passed. If it had happened only once or twice, it could have been blamed on coincidence, or carelessness, or a report falling through the system’s cracks..but I’ve submitted more than eight hundred requests over the years and have never ONCE received an acknowledgement on it.” He shakes his head, the look on his face showing his frustration. “At that point, it’s impossible to call it an accident: Someone within F.O.W.L.- someone very high up in the chain of command- has been intercepting my requests because they KNOW the truth about what happened and are trying to keep people from finding out.”

“So,” His partner looks down at him with a raised brow. “Whattaya wanna do ‘bout it, Deedee?”

“I’m going to find out who that person is and remove him, and any of his co-conspirators, from F.O.W.L. personally.” Domino reigns in the deadly intent of his voice so that he can speak to his team calmly once again. “It won’t be easy…and, if I’m not careful, I could be branded as a traitor, or worse..but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’ll take one of the back-up pod-ships and try to keep in contact with you as much as possible with updates on my location and any information I find.” He looks at the assortment of dark gems in the room with him, at the gems who’d become his team, his family, over the past few thousand years, knowing that, this time, he couldn’t ask them to-

“Count me in!” A cheerful voice to his left says.

Domino looks beside himself to see Loony giving him a confident smile. “Loony, you can’t-”

“We’re a packaged deal, right?” The smile on Loony’s face is as bright as ever, but the softness of her voice and the look in her eyes are far more meaningful. “Where you go, I go- that’s the rule, remember?”

Domino tries to fight the smile forming on his own beak, but it’s practically impossible. He’s not surprised at all to have his own words thrown back at him in such a supportive way. After all, what else would he expect from the gem who was practically a sister to him?

“Guess I’m in, too.” To Domino’s surprise, he sees Gandra get up from her seat and look at him with an indifferent roll of her eyes- the effect greatly diminished by the small smile on her face. “If White Diamond messes things up with F.O.W.L., where else am I gonna go when I’m bored?”

He knows the star-sapphire is just putting up a front. While she’s still the newest member of the crew, she clearly enjoys her spot on the team and the freedom it offers her. Domino and Steelbeak may still be quietly keeping to their promise of seeing anyone else on the ship besides themselves and Loony as expendable, but they knew that Gandra was handy to have around and, given that they scouted her and invited her to join F.O.W.L. themselves, they knew she was more trustworthy than some of the agency’s more senior members.

“Three of you crammed int’ one teeny tiny pod? That’s gonna be a pain.” Domino looks to his other side to see Steelbeak grinning down at him. “Tell ya what, short fuse- why don’t ya just stay here and we ALL take the Black Iron Comet? It’d be roomier AND faster.”

Domino stares up at the melanite before, with a fondly exasperated sigh, he closes his eyes and shakes his head, unable to keep the equally fond smile off of his face. He should have seen that coming. Steelbeak’s been his partner for more than eight and a half thousand years now. Time after time the melanite has proven how far he’s willing to go for him and has more than earned his trust- the incident in his room just a few minutes ago serving as yet another prime example of his partner’s loyalty.

“I suppose you do have a point.” He looks to each gem in the room as he speaks, his voice serious but far less grave than it had been a minute ago. “From now on, we’ll need to be prepared for anything. We’ll have to be extremely careful with who we trust- any information we find stays with us until we know for sure whom we can trust within F.O.W.L. and who we cannot. We’ll also need to stick together to avoid being caught by the enemy- no going off on our own anymore.” He briefly side-eyes one gem in particular after that comment, the rooster rolling his eyes but nodding in agreement at the subtle jab regarding his recent capture. “Now,” He gives the gems around him a confident smirk. “Let’s show those traitors what happens when you double-cross F.O.W.L.”

The chorus of agreeing cheers around him makes Domino’s confidence in their future grow ten-fold. After all, with a team this good backing him up, not even the Diamonds will stand a chance.

<-Previous Chapter

End Notes: And there we have it- an end to one story, but the beginning of a new one. This group was SO much fun to write and I definitely have plans to do more with all of them in the future after I get the main universe more developed. I’m thinking of having the FOWL Facets story run as a sort of side-story to the Fearsome Facets universe that will occasionally cross over with the FOWL group tracking down the origins of the cluster before everyone comes together in the big series finale.

Wanted to give another HUGE thank you to both @eleanorose123 / @thefriendlyfour and @deldraws19 for allowing me to write this story using their awesome OC’s! They’re wonderful and I look forward to doing so much more with them later on ^^

[pckarchives]

beneath the cut , you’ll find random tidbits of info that i thought up at unholy hours of the night. took all day but tbh ..... this was therapy. i really said, “i’ll make my own damn self happy,” and it shows.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟏.     ›     alicia marie levesque boyd-whitley.

► hobbies ➔ painting and decoration, primarily. for the most part, this is due to the nostalgia of doing it with her moms. she’s not awful at it, but she’s not van gogh levels of good, either. it’s just for fun, as all things should be. she’s also incredibly creative, so things like renovation ideas come easy to her. she did ballet for several years, but dropped it before she moved to beacon hills. ► social media handles ➔ she’s aleesha on just about everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ mostly conventional, with a series of emojis attached to every name. ► favorite color ➔ green. but sea foam-ish green. ► favorite video game ➔ animal crossing new horizons. she’s a simple bitch; she sees cute animals, she plays the damn game. ► favorite song ➔ style by taylor swift. ► favorite scent ➔ pumpkin spice! not to be totally cliché, but that scent is unbeatable. she has a million candles with that scent alone. ► favorite band/artist ➔ taylor swift, of course. ► favorite place to be ➔ nana’s house! ► favorite season ➔ winter! she had so much fun with lucy over this past winter and if that’s the way lucy acts every year for christmas, then alicia looks forward to it! ► favorite word ➔ squishy. ► favorite meme ➔ maybe so.gif ► if they were an animal ➔ cheetah! ► if they were a color ➔ beige. no longer the pure white she once was, but not the tar pit that she could have been, either. a beautiful mixture of purities and imperfections. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *going through the five stages of grief* HHHHHHHHH !!!!! someone just slid in my dms and *voice cracking* this is what they said.... *sobbing* gIRL.... *sniffle* HNNNNNN..... you should sell hoT DOGs.... ‘cause you know how to make a weiner stand. hNNNNNN.... HNNNNN!!!!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ shake it off. ► aesthetic ➔ paint-stained overalls, tear tracks covered in glitter and flower petals, crooked fingers snagging the last slice of pizza out the box, thick-framed glasses with the lens popped out, it’s for the aesthetic, sharpie’d converse kicks and open hearts doodled onto the palm of your hand –– darling girl, someone will really love you one day. ► motto ➔ “it really do be like that sometimes.” ► theme song ➔ lights up by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟐.     ›     amari rose kent.

► hobbies ➔ writing, mostly out of spite. in middle school, she had a meeting with the principal, during which he told her she was at risk of being expelled, due to how many teachers had issues with her. this was the same principal who told her she would never get anywhere, hanging off of tate’s coattails, so she wrote a 50-page paper in the span of one week, shaming the school for its discrimination and unethical practices when it came to students. instead of giving the paper to the principal, she submitted it to the board of education and got the man fired. not only did the essay make it onto local news, it also got her a scholarship to devenford prep; lucky, since tatum had already been offered a scholarship and was on the verge of turning it down because she wouldn’t go without amari. though she hasn’t spitefully written anything that huge since, she is still not afraid to thinkshame. also dabbles in poetry and collage-making. ► social media handles ➔ amari_rose on twitter and instagram. she surprisingly does not have a snapchat! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, she’s giving nicknames. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ she doesn’t play video games, so she doesn’t know. ► favorite song ➔ bad guy by billie eilish. ► favorite scent ➔ not to kinkshame, but.... leather. ► favorite band/artist ➔ billie eilish, she is not ashamed! ► favorite place to be ➔ wherever tate and owen are, honestly. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ bullshit. ► favorite meme ➔ thA’TS MY OPINION !!!! ► if they were an animal ➔ panther. ► if they were a color ➔ silver. black is a hard color to obtain and she hardly comes close. she’s got all the darkness she doesn’t need, but the world put that in her. still, she’s close to light, too; close to breathing in sunlight. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ to the mIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHER –– yes, YOU, you know who you are –– who said EYE would never be shit, LOOK AT ME NOW, WHORE ! LOOK AT ME NOW .... not shit. and HOW YOU LIKE IT ? *twerks belligerently* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔  sad beautiful tragic. ► aesthetic ➔ messily chopped hair in the bathroom sink, tongue poked out to lick ketchup off of nimble fingers, rushed words in a lost diary, a bottle drifting out at sea, cigarette smoke and tequila-coated daydreams, harsh breaths in and out and in and out, bruised knuckles and bleeding lips, we’re not done here. ► motto ➔ “chin up, chest out.” ► theme song ➔ all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish. alternatively, kiwi by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟑.     ›     camden wesley layton lahey.

► hobbies ➔ he took up woodworking a few years back. therapy and whatnot. he likes making little birds and figurines out of wood, keeps a box of them in his nightstand. ► social media handles ➔ he’s not on social media! he’s old, leave him alone. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. again, he’s old, leave him! ► favorite color ➔ grassy green. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s always going to be a sucker for mario party. that game is unfairly frustrating, but he would ride or die for it. ► favorite song ➔ i of the storm by of monsters and men. ► favorite scent ➔ peppermint! it used to make him sick, because it’s such a strong smell, but it’s now his absolute favorite thing in the world. ► favorite band/artist ➔ gorillaz. ► favorite place to be ➔ he honestly prefers closed spaces? tight spaces where he can see every corner, every entrance, every exit, every tile on the floor. whenever he starts panicking, he will sneak away to the nearest closet or something. ► favorite season ➔ spring. rebirth, babyyy. ► favorite word ➔ dammit. ► favorite meme ➔ it’s free real estate. ► if they were an animal ➔ german shepard. ► if they were a color ➔ light pink. this strange mix between the pure white of being a blank slate and the awful red of having spilled more blood than he can even remember. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ AWWWWWWW 😍😍 awww, i’m gonna die alone 🤗🤗🤗 awww !!! i’m never gonna know what it’s like to be LOVED, AWWWWWW !!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ holy ground. ► aesthetic ➔ sweat-dotted skin, racing heart, jingling dog tags, checking the locks on the door once and then again and then again and once more just to be sure, hesitant hands and wet eyes, a smile that’s easy even when nothing else is, sunlight pouring in through a cracked window, a step closer to an answer, five steps back. ► motto ➔ “sure, jan.” ► theme song ➔ clint eastwood by gorillaz.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟒.     ›     charles gerard argent.

► hobbies ➔ someone should tell him that working out isn’t a personality trait, but it really is his hobby. your depression can’t catch up to you, if you’re getting these gainz. ► social media handles ➔ he’s charliecharlie on everything, because he’s funny. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ it used to be creative, but man, that depression hit him hard and he switched to conventional. ► favorite color ➔ white. ► favorite video game ➔ fortnite, shut the fuck up, liam, he doesn’t want to hear it. ► favorite song ➔ perfect ruin by kwabs. ► favorite scent ➔ salt water. ► favorite band/artist ➔ clairo. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the beach. he takes frequent drives up to the closest beach, ► favorite season ➔ summer. beach time! all the time! ► favorite word ➔ yeet. ► favorite meme ➔ y E E T. ► if they were an animal ➔ raven. ► if they were a color ➔ a myriad of colors; there are so many facets to charlie and until he figures out exactly where he is in life, he’s going to keep creating a puddle of colors. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *dancing and singing to the tune of under the sea* ptsd 🤪 anxiety 🤪 crippling depression, there is no question, you should kill me !! let me be with HARAMBE 😤✊ i feel like shit every day ! i’m asking nicely, do it by drowning, under da sea 🌊🌊 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ getaway car. ► aesthetic ➔ that damnable water’s edge, the view from the top of a mountain, gnawed fingernails and scraped skin, 11:11 and back again, holstered knives and picturesque smiles, droplets of blood spilled into cold coffee, palm grazing the door to happiness but not quite opening it yet ––– another day and you might just make it. ► motto ➔ “que ce sang protège ceux qui ne peuvent se protéger.” ► theme song ➔ broken bones by kaleo.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟓.     ›     cora vienna hale.

► hobbies ➔ lowkey has a love of mechanics. she doesn’t trust anyone else to repair her bike, so she learned how to do it herself. also learned how to fix cars, because scott is always messing his up. also still plays soccer when she has the time. ► social media handles ➔ she’s just corahale on everything. it’s more “professional” than what she had before. which was... a series of expletives that made lydia blush. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless she really hates you. then she can get creative. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ detroit: become human. ► favorite song ➔ hold on just a little while longer from d:bh. luther snapped. ► favorite scent ➔ pinecones. ► favorite band/artist ➔ bryson tiller. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house. it feels good to be able to go there again and not be assaulted with all of the reminders of what she lost. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ buttercup. look her in the eye and tell her it’s not the cutest word you’ve ever heard. exactly, you can’t. ► favorite meme ➔ looks into the camera like she’s on the office. ► if they were an animal ➔ lion. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. pure and beautiful; maybe not innocent, maybe not for everyone. but royal and bold and unrelenting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ sO... .i just went to starbucks and i got my iced coffee and i was standing in line and these little girls were looking at me. *sniff* and i was like, “okay, funny joke.” so i, um, i’m s–– i’m waiting for my coffee, uh, at starbucks, and these other little girls were just, like, LOOKING AT ME and they kept on staring and then this DAD kept on looking and then he kept on staring. and *uncomfortable laughter* ....... *more laughter* ..... *turns on music* *keeps laughing* *turns music off* what kind of sick fucking joke ? .... *uncomfortable shrugging* ...i EXIST ? *more laughter* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ clean. ► aesthetic ➔ a horrid red fire meets a river of blue, gasoline stains on faded tees, an unexpected smile on a rainy day, the way the forest breathes after a rainstorm, skintight dresses and haughty gazes, a smirk that rests for no one, the innocence of a white wolf in a prom dress. ► motto ➔ “flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo.” ► theme song ➔ big god by florence and the machine. alt. the man by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟔.     ›     daniel nahele mahealani.

► hobbies ➔ he no longer loves hacking or music, because... whew, high school killed everything he cared about. mostly sticks to being lydia’s dress up doll. ► social media handles ➔ he’s d-annyboy on all things, because it’s easy! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless he’s trying to hide something from jackson and lydia. lydia is not afraid to go through his phone, which he genuinely doesn’t mind, that’s why she knows all of his passwords and stuff. but he does not need her to know how many guys he’s fucked that she didn’t like, he’s not here for the lectures. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ wii sports still outsells, he is not taking criticism or debate on this topic. ► favorite song ➔ magic in the hamptons by social house. ► favorite scent ➔ hot chocolate. ► favorite band/artist ➔ childish gambino. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the risk of being gay, wherever theo is. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ pack. he loves feeling loved, sue him. ► favorite meme ➔ kermit spreading his asshole. ► if they were an animal ➔ elephant. ► if they were a color ➔ orange; just on the cusp of happiness, but always holding back. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ hEY GUYS, i’m just really co–– really confused, ‘cause what does fall have to do with fuckboys 🧐🤔 ‘cause I’VE been fucking boys .... EVERY MONTH, winter, fucking februarymarchaprilmay, june, december... dULY ... *someone taps on the trunk of the car* *looks back* ...that’s my dad *frantic zoom-in* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ afterglow. ► aesthetic ➔ scar-littered skin and callused hands, abandoned hobbies and hopes and dreams, all stashed to the back of the infamous closet, dimples cheeked and optimistic eyes, high school jerseys folded in the drawer, letterman jackets treated like sacrosanct, the memory of when things were simpler and the rain didn’t last so long.  ► motto ➔ “this could be worse.” ► theme song ➔ clementine by halsey.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟕.     ›     derek alexander hale.

► hobbies ➔ book collecting. as their lives continue to not make sense, he collects books on any and every odd ‘myth’ out there and just waits for the day it comes in handy. ► social media handles ➔ lydia has made him dhale on everything, because he’s boring. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. he now has a lock on every app in his phone, because fiona and lydia will happily break into his phone to change his contacts, if he’s not careful. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ he doesn’t often play video games, but he will school these youngsters in a game of yahtzee! ► favorite song ➔ when doves cry by prince. ► favorite scent ➔ something baking in the oven. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prince. no, he is not talking about it. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house, when the entire pack is there. close second is the loft, when everyone is there. he’ll complain until he’s blue in the face, but everyone knows he’s secretly weak for that. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ no. ► favorite meme ➔ blinking white guy. ► if they were an animal ➔ i... a wolf. ► if they were a color ➔ tree bark brown; steady and stern and stable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *standing at the bathroom door, glaring* if it breaks. one more time. don’t ––– shut your mouth. if it breaks while i’m sleeping, i will grab you by the neck and shove you down the shower drain. *continues to glare* ......... i’m going to take my shower now. *slowly and threateningly closes the door* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ daylight. ► aesthetic ➔ shattered handcuffs, ashes spread across the floor, delayed inhales and painful exhales, a pool of flowers at your feet ––– begin again. ► motto ➔ “no.” ► theme song ➔ sinnerman by nina simone.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟖.     ›     dominic joseph kim.

► hobbies ➔ yoga, meditation, brewery, skin and haircare routines, and swimming! a king stays busy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s domkimi on snapchat, instagram and twitter, but he’s baddiebbarbietingz on reddit. he has a tumblr account, but he refuses to tell the pack what his username is. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative. feel free to look through his phone, but good fucking luck figuring out who is who. ► favorite color ➔ gold. ► favorite video game ➔ sims 4. he gets the chance to actually build a sustainable life? with a family? in a house? with cheat codes? and love? and aliens? and lovers who become plants? sign him the fuck up. ► favorite song ➔ would you mind by prettymuch. good form by nicki minaj is a close runner-up. ‘cause he do, in fact, be the baddie b barbie tingz banging body b, everybody be on his d, cause he gotta be in reality–– ► favorite scent ➔ pizza! if it’s not good for you, why does it smell so good? make it make sense. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prettymuch. ► favorite place to be ➔ tate’s lab! it’s where he and owen do most of their brewing, aside from their field trips to the greenhouse to get more ingredients. it’s basically where dominic does his best and calmest work. close second is his own apartment, because he does yoga in the living room each morning. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ cecelia. ► favorite meme ➔ who said that.gif. ► if they were an animal ➔ a turtle! specifically, one of the turtles from finding nemo. ► if they were a color ➔ blue. calm and collected. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ so i said i’m a switch on tiktok, right ? and now all these ladies are comin’ out of the woodwork like, “hey, i got a strap-on and a dog collar with your name on it ! ” 😳😳 and i’m like... you put my name on it ? 😍👉👈  /// alternatively: theee necklace my boyfriend bought me just came in the mail *zoom in on necklace* ....I’M my boyfriend ! i bought this for myself ! EEE *excited grin* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ style. ► aesthetic ➔ the push and pull of a tidal wave, a dash of eyeliner here and a bit of mascara there, collared shirts and wrinkled jeans, overrated pop over a bluetooth speaker, a fascination with milkshakes and musicals, a heart that beats out of rhythm but never misses a step. ► motto ➔ “the birds work for the bourgeoisie.” ► theme song ➔ good thing by zedd and kehlani.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟗.     ›     elliot james aldridge.

► hobbies ➔ aside from his bathtub poetry and crime, he has revived his love of cooking and music. is masterful at the piano, guitar and harp, dabbles in cello and flute. he likes his music pretty, okay, sue him. ► social media handles ➔ redacted by the fcc. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ depends on how much he likes you! if you’re kosher, you get a creative name. if not... you get your own name. ► favorite color ➔ blood red. unironically. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s a poker man, but if he has to choose a video game, meet him in super smash brothers. ► favorite song ➔ say so by doja cat. ► favorite scent ➔ blood. ► favorite band/artist ➔ hozier. ► favorite place to be ➔ no offense, but the french quarter in new orleans. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ self-care. ► favorite meme ➔ why would you say something so controversial, yet so brave? ► if they were an animal ➔ hyena. one of the asshole ones from lion king. ► if they were a color ➔ red. he’s not hiding that. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’mnotfallingi’mnotfallingi’mnotfalling, i’m not f a l l i n g, i’m not FALLING, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not fALLING....... !! *deep breath* oKAY, i’m falling. /// alternative: the oNLY reason i have not destroyed the world is because i have not had ice cream in a while, i want some ice cream. but tRUST ME, when i get some ice cream ? your ass is grass and i’m the lawn mower ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ ready for it? ► aesthetic ➔ a hoop of sterling silver, initials carved into dying trees, tempting eyes and a charming smile, cufflinks left on the nightstand, a prison cell and a funny story, top three buttons left undone, far too aware for his own damn good. ► motto ➔ "excuse me, i'm new in town and it gets worse." ► theme song ➔ sunlight by hozier.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟎.     ›     erica juliet reyes.

► hobbies ➔ tracking deucalion and peter, for one thing, but that’s more of a job than anything else. does raving count as a hobby? she’s officially taken up rock climbing, by the way. a huge slap in the face to her epilepsy. ► social media handles ➔ she changes her handles frequently, because she’s indecisive, she can’t decide–– but she’s currently reyofsunshine on everything. shoutout to fiona. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative and often explicit! ► favorite color ➔ sand brown, don’t @ her. ► favorite video game ➔ until dawn. understand the palm of my hand, bitch.... jesus hot sauce christmas cake.... what were you tweeting, hashtag there’s a freaking ghost after us? your fave could never! ► favorite song ➔ hot girl bummer by blackbear. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy or fee’s baking. she’ll come home just for that. ► favorite band/artist ➔ blackbear. ► favorite place to be ➔ at a party. she’s very into raves. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ motherfucker. ► favorite meme ➔ respect the drip, karen. ► if they were an animal ➔ a horse. enticingly beautiful but will also kill you. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. not as pure as cora’s gold, but twice as inviting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ all i’m gonna say is that i didn’t take ap classes in high school, escape the friend zone, graduate with honors, get cheated on, go to college, mentally deteriorate, become addicted to nicotine, sign a year lease, drop a sorority, fail chemistry and dye my hair purple, just to cry over the frat boy leaving me on read that smokes weed for breakfast, lunch and dinner 💁🏼 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ false god. ► aesthetic ➔ push-up bras covered in black lace, smeared lipstick against the bathroom mirror, jeans that leave nothing to the imagination, a wolf that lies in wait and fears no god, the epitome of poison. ► motto ➔ “meanwhile, back at the ranch...” ► theme song ➔ needed me by rihanna.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟏.     ›     fiona evelyn porter.

► hobbies ➔ baking, pinterest, cheer, volleyball and softball. truly depends on the season. ► social media handles ➔ feezypeezyporter stays true to her brand. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! her contact ids are indecipherable, the only people who can understand them are katie and cass. dom gave up. ► favorite color ➔ light green and light pink! ► favorite video game ➔ beat saber! ► favorite song ➔ love again by carly rae jepsen. ► favorite scent ➔ is.... is it gay to say cass? ► favorite band/artist ➔ carly rae jepsen. ► favorite place to be �� the loft! it really is her happiest place. alternatively, wherever cass is, ‘cause that’s home, babey! ► favorite season ➔ spring! baby sticks to her brand. ► favorite word ➔ braggadocio. how on EARTH is that a real word? ► favorite meme ➔ let me see what you have. a kNIFE! NO! ► if they were an animal ➔ cardinal. ► if they were a color ➔ green. the color of grass, covering everything, everything, everything. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *crying and sipping tea* it... is ver .... very b... bold of you to assume ............. ! *pained smile*  /// alternatively: ONE OF YOU FAT BITCHES UNFOLLOWED ME !!! *manic laughter* i’m not mad, but like...... *climbs onto bathroom sink and leans in very close* what was the last straw ? ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ me! ► aesthetic ➔ bare lips passing over green leaves, a lullaby to a struggling orchid, spanks and sweat drops and a desperate need for approval, a digital scale blinking red numbers back at you, pills of white and blue and yellow, maybe tomorrow you’ll be happy again. ► motto ➔ “team work makes the dream work!” ► theme song ➔ work this out from the high school musical 2 soundtrack.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟐.     ›     hayden louisa romero.

► hobbies ➔ she has a love of sports. got into lacrosse before her imprisonment, though she was a little too fragile to play a real game. was a soccer star as a kid. also puts on glamour shows for the kids and the dogs, if they ask. ► social media handles ➔ she doesn’t have social media. imprisonment tingz. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, you get an emoji or two at the end of your name. ► favorite color ➔ ocean blue. ► favorite video game ➔ will forever be weak for pokémon. ► favorite song ➔ 1985 by bowling for soup. timeless. ► favorite scent ➔ french vanilla. ► favorite band/artist ➔ she’s getting into melanie martinez. ► favorite place to be ➔ bias goes to being with the ito pack, but the preserve is pretty much paradise. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ covenant. ► favorite meme ➔ and i oop––– ► if they were an animal ➔ manta ray. harmless babey. ► if they were a color ➔ prism clear. a maze of reflections, but so fucking breakable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ you mess with ME ? w ..... ! y...... ! *vague hand movements* you probably aren’t gonna experience any problems, because i’m afraid of confrontation !! /// alternative: *struggling to place lamp inside of another lamp* i JUST TOOK A TEN HOUR NAP ??? *panic* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ it’s nice to have a friend. ► aesthetic ➔ scars lifted among tanned skin, wary glances to read every room, crop tops floating above your belly, a lack of cares for a world that cares a little too much, marked skin and glossed lips, wanna make a deal with an angel? ► motto ➔ “my priority is me.” ► theme song ➔ i know by pink sweat$.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟑.     ›     judith wendy mayer-argent.

► hobbies ➔ biking! she does it primarily for work, but she also does it for fun. also, huge gamer. and protestor. baby keeps busy. ► social media handles ➔ mayerjude. she can make so many jokes out of her own last name, don’t tempt her. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! unless it’s someone important or authoritative. then they get their own name. ► favorite color ➔ sunshine yellow. ► favorite video game ➔ fornite. ► favorite song ➔ sunday candy by donnie trumpet and the social experiment. ► favorite scent ➔ cupcakes! the frosting! the delicacy! ► favorite band/artist ➔ maroon 5. ► favorite place to be ➔ in the middle of a protest, rally or march. if she’s not in action, then what is she doing? ► favorite season ➔ spring. ► favorite word ➔ audit. ► favorite meme ➔ surprised pikachu. ► if they were an animal ➔ dolphin. ► if they were a color ➔ sunset orange. no, i will not elaborate. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *walking down the street* so we were peer reviewing papers in one of my classes aaaand this girl goes, “you use some FANCY LANGUAGE ! ” and i was like, “what word ? ” and she was like, “perpetuate.” .........on GOD, we gon’ get you a dictionary. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ don’t blame me. ► aesthetic ➔ sunflowers pushing up from freshly dug graves, a smile away to keep the doctors away, sprained wrists wrapped in inappropriate laughter, bruised knuckles and black eyes, drink in hand, swinging your hips to that voicemail left by your toxic ex-boyfriend. ► motto ➔ “just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...” ► theme song ➔ modern love by david bowie.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟒.     ›     kali kaira laghari.

► hobbies ➔ knitting. she has abandoned all of her self-care and therapy ideals, now knits and talks to ghosts. mind ya business. ► social media handles ➔ she’s not on social media, either. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. she has no times for games. ► favorite color ➔ red. she’s a scorpio, what do you expect? ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but she’ll take mortal kombat any day. ► favorite song ➔ nintendo game by alessia cara. ► favorite scent ➔ tea! ► favorite band/artist ➔ alessia cara. ► favorite place to be ➔ aside from wherever rohan is, she prefers the bookstore. confrontations aside, it’s a very small space, quiet and relaxing. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ goddess. and yes, for exactly the reason you think. ► favorite meme ➔ as a treat. ► if they were an animal ➔ scorpion. ► if they were a color ➔ smoky grey. everything’s a little hazy with this one. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *staring at the food on the table, slowly losing her mind while everyone else argues over murder* *holds head in hands* *bangs hands on table repeatedly, screaming* WHAT ARE WE THANKFUL FOR !!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ i did something bad. ► aesthetic ➔ cross-legged sitting in the middle of the road, waiting for a new thrill, fingertips grazing the harsh blade beneath your skirt, popcorn and wine with a man you could’ve loved if you were both a little less fucked up, a question that should never be answered, a world-view that should never be defiled –––– and you did it all. ► motto ➔ “i don’t need permission or advice; just help.” ► theme song ➔ simmer by hayley williams. you should see me in a crown by billie eilish.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟓.     ›     kira fuyuko yukimura.

► hobbies ➔ she trains to keep herself calm. often talks with her fox nowadays; she wants to build trust. and given that kira is doing fuck all to deal with her issues, she needs someone to talk to her. she and her fox get along a lot better these days. she also runs, practices lacrosse maneuvers on her own and plays with lightbulbs.  ► social media handles ➔ she’s a simple woman: kyuki. cut the fluff, cut the extraness. also, kyuki is what she’s named her fox.  ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, save for people who warrant a creative one. aka those whose names she doesn’t know. you would be surprised at how many there are. ► favorite color ➔ purple. ► favorite video game ➔ also a fan of animal crossing! ► favorite song ➔ ahead of myself by the ambassadors. ► favorite scent ➔ cinnamon. ► favorite band/artist ➔ the ambassadors. ► favorite place to be ➔ it’s dorky to say, but she likes being with her parents! they’re still in new york, so she doesn’t get that chance as much. however, her second favorite place to be is.... her bed. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ poppy. ► favorite meme ➔ guess i’ll die.png ► if they were an animal ➔ truly a fox. ► if they were a color ➔ steel blue. baby is electric. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i might be a BIG, DUMB, GAY BITCH ................ !! *smirks at camera* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ cruel summer. ► aesthetic ➔ a thunderstorm in your bedroom, leather gloves pulled over dainty hands, quick footwork and sly gazes, untied shoe laces dragging across the floor, leggings beneath skirts, quiet meditation before bed, sharp teeth poking into bruised lips. ► motto ➔ “yeah, this isn’t weird at all.” ► theme song ➔ fall in line by christina aguilera and demi lovato.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟔.     ›     liam stephen dunbar.

► hobbies ➔ lacrosse no longer counts as a hobby, considering he made it his entire life. does training with allison count as a hobby? does texting gwen bad jokes count? ‘cause that’s all he does, my guy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s dvnbcr on everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, until fiona gets her hands on his phone and changes his ids again. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s that guy who plays all of the 2k nba games. like, he has to stan. ► favorite song ➔ i don’t care by fall out boy. ► favorite scent ➔ turf. he’s a loser, what do you expect? ► favorite band/artist ➔ fall out boy and kendrick lamar are tied. ► favorite place to be ➔ the lacrosse field. he does not stray from his brand. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. lax season! ► favorite word ➔ shit. fuck is a close runner-up. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ve won.... but at what cost? ► if they were an animal ➔ rhinoceros.  ► if they were a color ➔ gray; that perfect intersection between white and black, good and bad, wolf and bomb. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *talking to his mom while she’s watching tv.* hey, mom? will you pause that? you know that guy i’m talking to is 6′4″? can’t wait to get my shit wrecked. so you are a bottom. ...wait. okay, i.... that’s not what you’re supposed to say! what am i supposed to say? don’t –– not that! *goes to sit next to her* i’m 👏 not 👏 a 👏 bottom 👏. bullshit. *confused look of betrayal* is this legal? have you ever done anything for anybody else? no, you’re a taker. /// alternatively: *trying to start a fire* hope so ! you gonna let the fire breathe or you gonna fuckin’ suffocate it ? i will end your goddamn short ass piece of shit useless life. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ this is why we can’t have nice things. ► aesthetic ➔ a rage that you can never quite tame, hand broken from too many punches, the green of fresh cut grass, car mileage piling up, miles and miles and miles left to go, bashful smiles and reddened skin. kid, you’re not nearly as bad as you think you are. ► motto ➔ “i blame scott.” ► theme song ➔ dr. whoever by aminé.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟕.     ›     lydia charlene martin.

► hobbies ➔ sewing clothes, throwing parties, picking up new languages, ruling the world, saving this pack from falling apart, doing everything in this goddamn house! ► social media handles ➔ queenlydia, but who’s surprised? ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ convention meets creativity in lydia’s phone. everyone has their first name, with a lord/lady/duke/duchess/etc. attached to it. jackson is the only one with king, obviously. you know you’re in trouble when she attaches peasant to your name. good luck climbing your way back up the ladder. ► favorite color ➔ pink. ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but dead by daylight is that bitch. ► favorite song ➔ honey by kesha. ► favorite scent ➔ strawberries. ► favorite band/artist ➔ kesha. ► favorite place to be ➔ in jackson’s arms, she is not taking that back. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ throne and jackson are tied. ► favorite meme ➔ why are you booing me? i’m right! ► if they were an animal ➔ swan. ► if they were a color ➔ purple. royalty is not a game, kids. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ not a vine or tiktok, but yes, it’s me 💅🏽 & you guys are mad about it ohmygod i make y’all feel that 🤢 well, i just wanted to pop up here & show y'all how i'm doing ! i'm doing great. i'm looking great, i'm feeling great, y'know 💇🏽 i'm obviously over here very booked & busy, while you bitches over here are still looking raggedy & not doing shit ! hahaha ! WOW ! 💁🏽 but anyway, um, i just wanted to let y'all know i'm not going anywhere. so talk your shit, you shitholes ! you can't defeat a bad bitch ! you just cannot do that ! i rise above that ! EW 🤮 so i just wanted to say hey ! & that i'm here to stayyy ! & you gon' be mad everydayyy ! HAHAHA ! SUCCESS ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ paper rings. ► aesthetic ➔ a crown that fits just perfect, newly manicured nails, breakfasts at tiffany’s and on decorated balconies, the picture on the altar, damp curls and loose braids, tight dresses and sinful heels, brave but never fearless. ► motto ➔ “i’m lydia fucking martin.” ► theme song ➔ okay, okay by alessia cara.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟖.     ›     scott lucas mccall.

► hobbies ➔ video games! he also likes helping the pack renovate whenever they decide to. though he has put fiona on a limit. after she redesigned her room five times in two weeks, he finally had to put his foot down. ► social media handles ➔ he is the most disorganized of the bunch. he’s scootermccall on snapchat, scottymccall on instagram, scotthewmccall on twitter because he’s weak for whatever fiona asks. it’s a mess, but he’s not changing. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, but with lots of emojis to show he cares. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he wants to say mario kart, because that’s his and lucy’s thing and, um, he’s in love with her. but other than that! life is strange. he hasn’t figured out how to win yet, but gosh dammit, that’s not going to stop him from trying.  ► favorite song ➔ dna by lia marie johnson. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy’s perfume! ► favorite band/artist ➔ panic! at the disco. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the vet! he’s so happy when he’s around animals and it feels good to know that he’s helping these animals get better? ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ lucy. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ll be honest, i can’t read. ► if they were an animal ➔ golden retriever. ► if they were a color ➔ yellow. speaks for itself. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i had an essay that was due at 11:59. instead of being a smart, responsible student, i decided to wait until 11:40 .... to START my essay. i finished the essay on time. but the gag is............. it was a five-page essay. and i got it done in sixteen minutes. *dancing* they gon’ hate me regardless, that’s why i do what i do ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ state of grace. ► aesthetic ➔ a lighthouse drawing in the lost, the open door of a sunken ship, wrongly buttoned plaid shirts, clumsy fingers and stumbling feet, saddened eyes that follow healing hands, the suspension of disbelief ––– whatever that means. ► motto ➔ “everything will work out!” ► theme song ➔ only the young by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟗.     ›     tatum coretta bellfleur.

► hobbies ➔ nanotech mechanics! she learned as a way to make things for owen and amari that they couldn’t afford to buy. won a few competitions, got a few scholarships, got into programs that taught her how to do greater things than she’d ever imagined. took up baton twirling at devenford, but gave it up when she got to college. fiona is trying to convince her take it up again next year. ► social media handles ➔ she’s tatertot on everything, courtesy of one judith mayer. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. keep it simple, thanks. ► favorite color ➔ silver! it’s so pretty. ► favorite video game ➔ death stranding. no, she will not elaborate. ► favorite song ➔ mo money mo problems by notorious b.i.g.  ► favorite scent ➔ flowers! ► favorite band/artist ➔ tupac. yes, she is that bitch. ► favorite place to be ➔ her lab. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ free. ► favorite meme ➔ you know i had to do it to ‘em. ► if they were an animal ➔ doe. ► if they were a color ➔ white. no matter how much she hates being protected, she’s the picture of purity. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *sitting in front of a mirror.* maybe.......... i’m the problem 🤨 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ out of the woods. ► aesthetic ➔ a blanket of snow covering the grime and pain of yesterday, contained explosions and soft humming, tight ponytails breaking cheap rubber bands, tongue poking out the side of your mouth, the sun peeking through the slits of your blinds, wondering where you’ve been these last couple’a days. ► motto ➔ “i’ve lived through this before, i’ll live through it again.” ► theme song ➔ 100 years by florence and the machine.

[shes-soparticular]

Slow Burn (Part IV)

Part One. Part Two.

Part Three.

A/N: Part IV of Slow Burn. If you can tell, Kraków is one of my favorite cities and felt like a great point for this particular chapter. Other Alex related one-shots can be found in my Masterlist. Hope you like! Comments, reblogs, likes are always appreciated!

Word Count: 3890

For fear of moments stolen I don't wanna say goodnight But I'll still see you in the morning Still know your heart and still know both your eyes

Since that night the moon has never seemed the same

 He wakes up to the faint smell of coconut and a tingling sensation in his left arm. For a split second, the daily feeling of disorientation takes over him as he processes that he’s in yet another hotel room, in yet another country, living this incredibly strange existence. But there’s something different about this morning in particular. The smell of coconut is floating from the head of hair his face is practically buried in, the curls tickling his nose as he tries to take in the scent as deeply as possible and commit it to memory. The state of discomfort in his arm is owed to the fact that it’s nestled under her ribcage, his other arm draped over her stomach with fingers splayed over the skin underneath the t-shirt she’s sleeping in. His t-shirt. Even though his left arm is begging for relief, he doesn’t dare move a muscle. He knows as soon as he does, as soon as she wakes, the moment might be ripped away and brushed under the rug. So for now, for as long as he can, he’s going to breathe her in and relish being pressed against her in the early morning glow. Laying in the silence, basking in it, he lets his mind replay the prior evening. The bandage on the back of her shoulder jogs his memory and immediately takes him back to Kraków’s cobblestoned streets, the moonlight reflecting off of the windows of storefronts long since closed for the night.

 They move through the streets slowly, cheeks warm from the Polish Vodka they’d been nursing since the end of that night’s show. A piece of street stall zapiekanka passes back and forth between the two of them, which Alex had spent half the night on the hunt for. When the rest of the group had slowly started breaking off to head back to the hotel in preparation for the early morning drive to Vienna, he had been the one to convince her to stay out just a little longer. Even though he was often mesmerized by her for the simplest of reasons, there was something about Kraków Alex that was more intoxicating than even the vodka. She’d been mentioning since the beginning of tour how much she loved this city, stars in her eyes anytime she spoke about it. But it was different actually watching her wander through Kazimierz and Old Town with her eyes wide, fingers brushing across the brick buildings and taking it all in with nostalgia as if it were a home she’d never known. It was yet another facet of her he hadn’t seen yet, this childlike wonderment, and it only softened his heart for her more. As if it wasn’t already a hopeless puddle anytime she was in front of him. Not wanting to sacrifice a second of watching the flush in her cheeks as the spring night air swept through her hair, he insisted on not letting the night end. Even as the rest of the team, Andrew included, shot him discerning looks on their way out of the final bar, all he could do was shrug his shoulders from behind Alex’s back. It was next to impossible to be rational and lovesick at the same time.

“God, I don’t know what it is about this city,” She sighs to herself, arm tucked through his as they strolled through Old Town. The moon, bigger and brighter than he’d ever seen it, lit their way and reflected off of her eyes as she looked up to him. “I wish we had more time here, I don’t want to leave.” It was clear to him that she was trying to stretch the night out as desperately as he was. There was no other reason she’d still be out in the middle of the night with no destination in mind.

“I know, I can’t believe we’re almost through with Europe.” His forlorn sigh matches hers as they weave past a couple necking on the sidewalk. He and Alex share a momentary smile at the couple’s expense, but there’s an undercurrent of jealousy that they aren’t the ones pushed up against the city walls, lost in one another. Granted, even if they were simply, innocently arm in arm, Shawn still feels as lost in her as if they were tangled in the sheets. “I’m dreading the end of this leg. I’m not ready.” With a rush of nerves, he looked off into the distance, not wanting to make the loaded nature of his statement any more obvious. Because what he was trying to say, what he really meant, was that he wasn’t ready to leave her. Even if it was just for a couple of months, he couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day. Breakfast wouldn’t be the same without listening to her tease Brian. His afternoons wouldn’t be the same without her forcing a smile out of him by asking in a dead serious tone if he ever planned to collaborate with BTS. And the nights? God, the nights definitely wouldn’t be the same. Not without laying across her bed watching her proudly show off her bad dance moves to Lizzo songs. Or listening to her geek out over Game of Thrones theories. He wouldn’t even get tired of the sinking feeling he got every time he caught that last glimpse of her face before her hotel room door shut in front of him. Although, he was certain he’d continue seeing her face nightly anytime he closed his eyes. Nothing was going to match having her in the room, though. The comfort of just knowing she was there and that was enough for all to be right with his world. He just wasn’t ready for anything to change, not in that way at least. What he didn’t realize was that there were plenty of similar thoughts running through her mind at that very moment. She didn’t want to miss out on those sweaty post-show bear hugs, where she’d never felt more at home than wrapped up in his arms. She wasn’t prepared to give up their nightly ramblings about everything and nothing. She was even going to miss bickering with him about the right way to chop vegetables (she truly feared he’d be missing a finger by the time June rolled around). Alex was just as afraid to let this moment in time pass and face the real world again, without one of his smiles to start her day.

“We’ll be running around North America before you know it.” Alex replies with as reassuring a tone as she can muster, rubbing his arm for added comfort. “And you have some exciting stuff coming up in May, I’m already planning my SNL watch party. I’m going to make everyone take a shot if you say, “sing it!”. Two shots if you forget the words. Three shots if you fall.” At the look of offense on his face, she hides in his shoulder, her laugh vibrating against his arm.

“Maybe I am ready to be Alex-free for a little while.” Shawn scoffs, shaking his head but secretly eating up her mocking. “I’m glad to hear you believe in me, feels great.” He still can’t help but laugh along with her. When so many people line up to kiss your ass, it’s always a breath of fresh air to hear from someone who doesn’t mind poking fun. Who can keep you grounded. “What are you going to be up to with your time off?”

She takes a beat to consider the question, obviously not having as impressive of an answer. “I don’t know, I mean, I’ll be back in the office.” It’s easy for him to forget that she has a real job, one with a desk and a cubicle and probably one of those “hang in there” posters with a kitten on it. And far more likely, a bottle of Maker’s Mark in her desk drawer. “I have a lot of contracting to do for a few fall tours, but I should be able to handle all of that from Chicago. I guess I’ll just be hanging out, back to the boring old grind. Gonna be tough to go back to civilian life.”

Continuing their aimless walk, the sound of a busker strumming away on his guitar fills the air. Neither of them recognizes the song, but it’s soft and sweet and only makes his hands itch to pull her in. Not letting himself hesitate any longer, he grabs her hand and gives her a sloppy spin into his chest, grinning at the way he’s managed to catch her off guard. Being that she had more of an impulsive streak than he did, it wasn’t an easy feat. A giggle leaves her lips as she lets herself lean into him, the hand that isn’t in his moving to his shoulder. “I guess I should ask first, if you want to dance.”

He’s fully expecting a snarky response from her, something just sharp enough to keep his ego in check but still kind enough not to bruise it. Surprisingly, all she does is look up at him, the moon lighting her features. “I’d love to.” Her hand brushes further across his upper back, settling on the nape of his neck. It sends shivers down his spine and he can’t decide whether he wants her to notice what she does to him. However, the way she’s melting into him? He’s confident the feeling is mutual. That maybe he isn’t exaggerating this connection between them. Maybe she’s in as deep as he is. They keep swaying together in the empty street, even after the busker starts packing up to leave. He imagines that had neon lights not caught the eyes of this spontaneous girl, that they’d have kept right on dancing until sunrise.

“Hey, I have an idea.” She squeezes his hand, already biting her lip the way she does when a scheme is turning it’s wheels through her brain. “Come with me.” Reluctantly, he drops his hand from her waist, trailing behind her as she takes off with purpose towards one of the few windows that’s still lit up. When he finally takes his eyes off of her long enough to judge the place she’s whisking him towards, he realizes with a chuckle that it’s a tattoo parlor of all places. While it’s true he hasn’t known Alex for long, he knows her well enough to be a little jittery about her plans. When they make their way into the small shop, he stands back and lets her do the talking. He watches as she digs through her purse for her phone, quickly bringing up a picture of a floral sketch she’d already had saved. Listening intently to her rambling, the artist starts drawing out his own version, a small branch of cherry blossoms. He already knew she had several existing tattoos, mostly small and simple. A sailboat on her inner ankle to represent her life growing up on Lake Michigan. A small mountain range on the back of her arm that she’d gotten after spending the summer between high school and college hiking Pacific Crest Trail with friends. The doodle made by her late grandmother dotting her right wrist was her favorite, and the way tears had welled up in the corner of her eyes when she explained it to him made him want to hold her and never let go. In the scavenger hunts to uncover her existing tattoos, she’d never mentioned having another one planned. But clearly, based on the photos saved to her phone, it’s something she’d been thinking deeply about. Being that he’s lost in his own thoughts of her, he almost doesn’t hear her when she turns to him, asking his opinion. “I think under the branch, he should add the words ‘let’s get lost’, what do you think?” The way her eyes flash this vulnerable look she only seems to have when she’s looking at him, he instantly understands the meaning without having to ask. It’s his lyric. A lyric to the first song she ever saw him play live. A lyric that easily represented the way they’d been stumbling together through Europe, falling harder for one another in each new city.

“Really?” There’s this weird sense of pride and humility that fills him, to know that a piece of their time together, a piece of him, was important enough to her that she wanted it to be emblazoned on her body. “I love it, Alex, I really do.” This earns the biggest smile he’s seen from her yet and somehow, he’s never been this tempted to kiss her. Even though that’s the baseline feeling he has every time he wants to kiss her…which is pretty much constant.

Before long, the artist has the design prepared and the stencil complete. For a moment, Shawn is nervous that she’ll want him to wait for her out front. But there’s something about her going off with a stranger that’s going to inflict a certain amount of pain on her that makes him immediately protective. Fortunately, she grabs his hand without hesitation and pulls him along with her to the back of the shop, not letting go as she lays chest down on the cushioned table. Leaning on her elbows for a second, she shimmies down the straps of her dress and bra, leaving her right shoulder bare. She does have to let go of his hand briefly to accomplish this, but quickly grasps it again as soon as she’s finished. When she blows out a shaky breath, he realizes she’s more anxious than he expected. Squeezing her hand as the artist makes the final preparations and applies the stencil, he gives her the same reassuring smile she’d flashed him earlier in the evening.

“So how long have you been thinking about getting this tattoo? You never mentioned it.” He wants to hear the answer almost as much as he wants to keep her mind occupied as the tattoo gun makes it’s first contact with her skin. When she winces, he almost can’t bear it. Seeing her in pain, even at her own request, stings in a way he almost can’t understand. But she’s resolute and manages a smile through the pain.

“Oh, I don’t know, a month or so, I guess?” Alex bites her lip, but it’s out of exposing herself rather than the physical pain. “I’ve been having the time of my life.” This time, she squeezes his hand instead. “I never want to forget it.” He doesn’t even think before reaching up with his free hand to brush her hair back, thumb brushing against her cheek and resting there too long to be considered innocent. They sit in silence for awhile, interrupted only by the sound of the tattoo gun, until the artist announces that he’s finished the line work and ready to start shading the flowers. Clearly picking up on the tender moment between them, a gleam enters the older man’s eyes.

“You know, I never do this,” He chuckles in a thick polish accent, “But would you like to fill in the flowers? I’ll tell you what to do, very easy.” He says this with confidence, as if it’s no big deal to jab a needle into someone’s skin. Especially someone you’re falling head over heels for. To say Shawn is caught off guard is an understatement. No way in hell does he trust himself to do this, to anyone, much less Alex. But the way her face lights up, brighter than when it was awash in moonlight, he knows there’s no way he can get out of it.

“Yes, Shawn, please.” She whines, knowing it’ll be an uphill battle to convince him. The look of determination in her eyes tells him that even if he fights her on this, tooth and nail, he’s going to lose. Now it’s him taking a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair while racking his brain for an excuse that will appease her. Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind.

“Are you absolutely sure? What if I hurt you? What if I fuck it up?” He rattles on, hand still snuggly grasped in hers. “Alex, this will be on your skin for the rest of your life. You need to be sure.”

At his reluctance, she raises to her elbows again for a second, wanting to be even the littlest bit closer to him. “Shawn, I’m sure. You won’t hurt me, you won’t fuck it up. Even if you do, I’d rather have it be your mistake than someone else’s best work.” She lowers her voice at the last part, not wanting to offend the artist that still has a certain amount of her fate in his hands. “If you’re not comfortable doing it, that’s totally okay. I get it. But I’d love it if you did.” Will he ever be able to say no to this woman? Taking one last nervous breath, Shawn accepts the gun from the artist and listens carefully to his instructions, asking him to repeat multiple points before he feels confident enough to move forward. It takes one last soothing look from Alex before he’s finally ready to bring the needle to the skin of her shoulder. Unexpectedly, he feels her relax instantly under his touch. The tension leaves her shoulders, melts from her back. The mere fact that she trusts him to do this, that she wants him to leave this permanent mark on her, something that might outlast them. Something that will be a part of her until her dying day. His imprint on her for a lifetime.

Through some miracle, he’s able to finish filling in the petals as instructed without making any mistakes or causing her an undue amount of pain. For a second, he almost thinks she’s drifted off to sleep before he’s finished, with the way she’s relaxed beneath his hand. But after the tattoo artist takes over to finish some final touches and wrap her tattoo, her eyes flutter open with a look of contentment. He feels her gratitude without her having to say a word, and he hopes she feels his. For letting him in like this, for sharing this moment with him. It’s so strange how something as simple of a tattoo can make him feel so bound to her, which is both euphoric and terrifying all at once.

It’s not long before they’ve finished up and are cast back on to the streets, the back of her shoulder bandaged and their hands interlocked once more. She goes back to leaning into him with her good shoulder and by the time they’re in the elevator up to their rooms, he doesn’t think twice about planting a kiss on the crown of her head. Even if they never go any further, they’ll always have this night. And it alone means the world to him.

They pass his door first and he’s surprised when she comes to a stop. It’s part of their routine that he always walks her back to her room first. “I…” Alex stammers for a second, eyes flicking between him and the door. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Can I…can I stay with you?” The pleading look she’s giving him isn’t even necessary, he wonders if she knows that, if she has any idea that he’d do anything for her. Without a thought. He’s aware how dangerous that could be, but so far, if it just boils down to tattoos and sleepovers, he’s more than ready to give her anything she wants.

“Of course.” He fumbles with the room key momentarily before getting them both inside. While he would have expected there to be an awkward tension in the air, there’s a comfortable familiarity instead. The way they maneuver around each other as they get ready for bed, it’s what he imagines a seasoned married couple is able to do. Except that he respectfully turns around as she changes into the t-shirt he’s tossed her, her boyshorts peeking out from under the bottom once he faces her. That sight alone is enough to make him blush, which he knows is a tad pathetic considering he’s not fourteen.

“Which side?” She asks as she glides towards the end of the bed, debating where to crawl in.

“Count of three?” He crosses his arms with a playful grin, earning one right back from her.

“Okay, one, two, three,” She counts off on her fingers before they both announce their preference. For once, their disagreement works in their favor as he says left and she says right. One more check in the mental “pro” column he’s been logging. He waits for her to crawl in and get comfortable before flipping off the light and crawling in after her. Not wanting to assume this is more than it is, he settles directly on to his back, leaving plenty of space between them across the king sized bed.

“You know, I can take the couch if you want, it’s actually super comfortable,” He has absolutely no clue if it’s comfortable or not…actually, he’s not even sure he’s picturing the right hotel room and couldn’t say for certain that there’s even a couch in the room at all.

“No, please stay.” Her voice is soft, the playfulness replaced ever so slightly with the same softness that was present during their impromptu dance. “Unless you want to, I mean, I don’t want to force you to cuddle with me. Please don’t feel obligated.” The way she sounds seriously concerned, as though she’s the one that’s overstepped, causes him to chuckle louder than intended.

“Cuddle? You didn’t say anything about that…” He inches closer to her, almost an unnoticeable distance, still reluctant to take a mile if she only means to give an inch.

“Shawn, I let you poke me with needles, I think you owe me a little TLC,” She rolls closer to him until they’re nearly touching.

“Okay, that does not get to be a thing you say to people by the way, you asked me to. Begged.” He can see her pout lip even in the darkness of the room, and just like in the elevator, his body moves faster than his mind as he pulls her into his chest. “But I’m glad you did. I hope you like the final result, it’s going to be there forever.” He’s beyond relieved when she settles into him, nuzzling her face into his neck, arm draping over his hip.

“I love it.” Her words are the last thing either of them hears before they succumb to sleep. Wrapped in one another in a way that they know they shouldn’t be but can no longer resist.

 Which is what makes it that much fucking worse when the first face to greet them in the lobby of their Viennese hotel is that of a guy he’s seen only in Facebook photos and Instagram posts. A guy he frankly hoped he’d never see in person. Of course, he is tired as hell and probably not seeing clearly, so he’s fully prepared to ignore the dude entirely. That is until he hears the quaking of Alex’s voice next to him.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?”

A/N #2: Okay, yes, this was inspired by a tattoo I got last night. Check my blog for a picture of the fresh product, that’s basically what Alex got ;) Art imitates life, right?

[kioraxerxo]

A/N: Thanks anon! I had a lot of fun with that fic. An immature brian is an adorable brian. This is like an alternative universe where the reader falls in love with roger instead. Literally it’s the same structure but idk i felt that the parallel was adorbable. Hope you guys enjoy! 

A Jealous Roger is not a Happy Roger (Roger Taylor x F!Reader)

Fuck Brian. Fuck him and his stupid poodle hair. Fuck him and his stupid brain. Fucking nerd. Fuck him and his stupid PhD. His stupid hobbies he likes bragging about. Fuck him. 

“Go easy, Rog.” John murmured beside him.  “What?”  “You said that last bit out loud.” John smirked and shook his head.  Roger rolled his eyes and watched you again. Brian was discussing some shit about his stupid thesis on space dust or whatever fucking nerd shit he mustered up. And what’s worse was that you were eating it all up. Your pupils were all blown out and you had this little awestruck smile on your face and you leaning into him .You were looking at him like he was god-sent.  He bets Brian really likes that. He bet it swells his over-bloated ego. Brian loved showing off how smart he was. Usually the groupies he brought over would immediately lose interest whenever Brian even mentions a lick of anything academic, but you were surprisingly interested.  You were even replying to Brian! Asking questions about cats in a box of gunpowder? And Brian--Brian was illustrating for you!  Amidst the waves of jealousy and anger, Roger knew that deep inside he felt insecure. Deeply and horribly insecure next to Brian.  He knew Brian was interesting. He knew Brian was multi-talented. He knew Brian was a fucking genius and a kind person to boot. And Roger... Roger plays the drums. Roger always at the back while the rest of the band gets the spotlight. Roger who was forced into dentistry but fucking dropped out and now he’s out of school.  He watched you so enraptured by what Brian was saying. Something about philosophy he bets. You love philosophy. Roger recalled all the times you tried to engage him in those conversations and he would just blubber about until he either dismisses it or changes the topic. He pretends he doesn’t see the look of disappointment on your face. 

You were a complex woman and Roger was just a simple man. 

He met you when he was trying to apply for East London Polytechnic. You were in the council booth, helping everyone out. You looked so beautiful. He knew his way around the campus but he desperately wanted to talk to you.  “Hello, excuse me?” carefully approaching and putting on his best smile.  You turned around, eyes all bright and waiting. “Yes? Need help?” 

“I...I’m new here and I’m a bit lost really. I can’t find the College secretary’s office.” Of course he knew where the college secretary office was. It was how he received his papers to begin with.  “Oh that’s fine. It’s a big campus!” you smiled. “You walk down this hall, then take a left by the commons room. If you walk a little further, you’ll find the office. It has a yellow door. Look for Mrs. Catesby.”  “Oh. T-thank you.” he took a few steps and turned away from you, disappointment bloomed in his chest that his plan didn’t work.  “I can go with you if you want!” you called.  Roger closed his eyes and grinned from ear to ear. He whipped back to face you. “Thank you, yes please. I’m not that familiar with the landmarks yet.” Roger watched you while you were leaving instructions for the other people by the booth. You wore plaid grey pants, black kitten heels and a black turtleneck. You looked like the type to ace all your exams while volunteering at the local hospital. You weren’t exactly his type. But god damn, you were absolutely stunning.  “I’m Roger, by the way.” he offered his hand. 

“Y/N. Nice to meet you Roger.” you shook it. He was a bit taken aback at how firm your grip was. 

The both you strolled towards the office while you gave him little tidbits of information about the campus.  “How come you know so much?” he teased. You looked like the type to love compliments.  “I think I’m supposed to. Student Council and all.”  “Wow. Do you have any other organizations?” “Well there’s the tennis team. Debate club...some others. It’s embarrassing really.” you blushed such a lovely shade, if Roger might add. He wanted to ask you out but based on the number of things you just said, it didn’t seem like you and him would be very compatible. 

“Oh! There’s the office.” you smile.  “Hey! Y/N!” a group of students approached you and Roger. They were clad in leather and smelled of smoke. A real dangerous look to their eyes. Roger didn’t know why but he subconsciously stepped in front of you. “Hey guys, I already asked Luke to take my shift with council duties later.” you said rather casually.  “Good. See you at practice!” one of them waved and walked away.  “Right, sorry. The College Secretary’s Office is here. Just be ready to prepare you papers before knocking-- “Who were those?”  “Oh! Those are my friends, I know they look a bit scary but it’s just our branding really. We’re all good and proper students.” you said quickly, afraid that the new student might get the wrong idea about the school.  “Your branding?”  “Yeah, we’re in a band. I’m their drummer!”  Roger. Roger was deeply in love. 

They’ve been very good friends ever since. Good Friends, that’s all. It was nearly impossible to imagine that a girl like her could exist. There were so many facets to your personality that Roger found himself discovering a new piece of you every day.  “Here, how about you try?” Brian’s voice shook him out of his reverie. Said poodlebrain was showing off his stupid camera. He saw Brian hand you the camera as you tried to aim at something.  “Here let me help you.” Brian said, moving behind you/ Oh no. No. No. No. Don’t you take another fucking step closer to her Brian. 

“See you just have to aim it,” Brian said, his face a little too close to the nape of your neck.  Roger felt his blood pressure shoot through the roof. He was seeing red.  “...Right there.” he put his hands on yours and that was the final straw.  “You get your hands off her, Brian May!” 

Everyone whipped their head towards Roger. He didn’t know if he was red at the face from the anger or the embarrassment. Silence. “I’m... I’m going to take a smoke.” he stuttered and rushed outside.  He made a beeline for the balcony. Some fresh air would clear his thoughts. He knows you were following him. He heard your footsteps.  He finally reached the balcony and the cold hair hit him in the face.  “Roger.” you called. 

“You’re better off with Brian, Y/N.”  “And who are you to decide that for me?” you snapped back. He didn’t reply.  “Roger Meddows Taylor, are you jealous?”  That did the trick. He lashed back, practically fuming at the mouth. “Maybe I should go back in the room and do it all over again? Throw a hissy fit at how Brian’s better than I am? Was it not clear enough I’m nearly bonkers in love with you!?”  You bit your lip to suppress a grin. You’ve been waiting for this for so long. You calmly took a step towards him until you were inches from his face.  “I think I’m in love with you too, Taylor.” You pressed a little peck on his lips. 

No. Roger was having none of that. You felt a strong grip on your waist and the gentle slide of a wall behind you. Roger was never the one for little kisses.  ________ “This is getting ridiculous. It’s been an hour and they’re nowhere in the building.” Brian huffed.  “Have you checked the janitor’s closet?” Freddie smirked, very much aware of what was happening.  “The janitor closet? Wh--”  You and Roger entered the studio room both looking a little winded. “Sorry guys!” he piped, a ridiculously large grin on his face.  Brian was looking between the two of them, obviously calculating the circumstances of what might have occurred.  But Roger was going to beat him to it. “Oh Brian, have you got your camera?” he jeered.  He hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you tightly beside him. “Can you take our picture? I want to remember the day I became Y/N’s boyfriend!”  The room erupted in cheers.  “Oh and Brian, make sure it’s 3D.” 

[getanattitude]

Buzzwords, De-buzzed: 10 Other Ways to Say fireinsidemusic.com

“THE more you dig right into a bit of Ives, the more enjoyment you have from it,” the pianist Jeremy Denk mentioned not too long ago, sitting at a piano inside of a rehearsal Area on the Juilliard University. “It’s like solving a puzzle.”

Then he enthusiastically deconstructed Ives’s “Concord” Sonata, untangling and detailing the themes and motifs embedded within the complex textures of the interesting rating.

Mr. Denk is going to release a disc, “Jeremy Denk Plays Ives” (Think Denk Media), that includes two piano sonatas, an esoteric choice of repertory for the debut solo album. But then, there's nothing generic concerning this adventurous musician. His vivacious intellect is manifest both equally in his playing and on his blog site, Assume Denk, an outlet for astute musical observations and witty musings, whether a lament about inedible meatballs or simply a spoof job interview with Sarah Palin.

Mr. Denk will reveal his more mainstream qualifications when he performs Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. one with Charles Dutoit and also the Philadelphia Orchestra commencing on Thursday on the Kimmel Centre in Philadelphia and on Oct. 12 at Carnegie Hall.

Mr. Denk argues which the Ives sonatas, composed early during the twentieth century, are mistakenly categorized as avant-garde works instead of “epic Intimate sonatas with Lisztian thematic transformations.” On the relaxed listener, the audio that Mr. Denk describes while in the CD booklet as “brilliant, ingenious, tender, edgy, wild, unique, witty, haunting” can unquestionably audio avant-garde. Ives, who built his residing in the coverage enterprise, integrated jazz, riffs on Beethoven and American hymns, marches and people songs into his daringly experimental piano sonatas, full of polytonality, thematic layering and rhythmic complexity.

“It’s so splendidly in-your-face,” Mr. Denk said, demonstrating a very maniacal passage while in the “Concord” Sonata. “It’s also pretty astonishingly unsightly. There is a thing maddening about his sense of humor. Ives is continually thumbing his nose at you in a method.”

But Mr. Denk suggests that Ives’s tenderness, which he illuminates superbly In this particular recording, is underappreciated. “Ives is frequently about things recalled,” he said, “or Recollections or visions fetched from some difficult position.”

He played the harmonically misty passages in the next movement with the “Concord,” where by Ives directs that a bit of wood be pressed over the higher keys to produce a cluster chord. “It doesn’t sense gimmicky at all to me,” Mr. Denk explained. “It’s all blues in The underside. Ives knew the way to use Those people tiny clichéd bits of Americana in a means that all of a sudden will get your intestine. You can’t believe how touching it's.”

Mr. Denk, forty, has been passionate about Ives because his undergraduate days at Oberlin in Ohio, where he carried a double big in piano functionality and chemistry. “My overall double diploma knowledge was to some degree of the continuous freakout of 1 type of A different,” he claimed.

He had been a “really nerdy high school scholar” by using a constrained social existence, he stated. “Ever considering the fact that I had been a kid I planned to head to Oberlin and preferred the liberal arts. Certainly I really get rigorous satisfaction outside of drawing connections between parts and poems and literature and concepts.”

Mr. Denk explained himself to be a “practice maniac,” but his horizons have prolonged considerably beyond the apply area since Oberlin. When nibbling a massive bit of chocolate cream pie at an Upper West Facet diner near the condominium he has rented due to the fact about 1999, Mr. Denk referred to his blog, contacting it “an surprisingly excellent outlet to release tensions of one form or Yet another.” He claimed it had drawn new listeners to his concerts. An avid reader of liberal political weblogs, Mr. Denk desires of creating a classical music Model of Wonkette, he reported, but that might be not easy to do devoid of offending individuals. And he attempts to steer clear of offending persons, he extra, while he did not long ago write-up a rant about plan notes.

Mr. Denk, who phone calls himself “an actual Francophile,” is gentle-spoken but intense, his dialogue peppered with references to numerous “obsessions”: espresso, Ives, Bach, Proust, Baudelaire and Emerson.

He went off on “a Balzac mania” a number of years in the past, he claimed.

“That was a perilous time, and almost everything in everyday life seemed drawn outside of a Balzac novel,” he extra. “I misplaced about three decades of my lifetime to Proust. I’m guaranteed it improved anything, including my playing.

“Sooner or later my supervisor was like, ‘Dude, You should deal with your occupation and receiving your stuff together.’ ” At that point, Mr. Denk claimed, “I had been bringing Proust to conferences.” He extra: “I’m unsure I really experienced a occupation route. I had been just undertaking my Odd issue, which most likely gave the impression of a disastrous nonroute to a lot of the individuals that have been viewing around me. I don't forget some exasperated conferences with my management, Nevertheless they were incredibly affected person and faithful, which I’m insanely grateful for.”

Mr. Denk grew up in Las Cruces, N.M., amongst two brothers, a son of audio-loving nonmusician parents. His father, who's got a doctorate in chemistry, has actually been (at diverse occasions) a Roman Catholic monk plus a director of Laptop or computer science at New Mexico Point out College.

Mr. Denk continues to be hooked on the chili peppers of Las Cruces, he said, seemingly only fifty percent joking: “The red and the green and The full spirituality of chili peppers. It’s nonetheless a large part of my everyday living. When I go house I go to this true dive and obsess in excess of their eco-friendly meat burrito.”

When not on tour, Mr. Denk spends time with his boyfriend, Patrick Posey, a saxophonist as well as director of orchestral things to do and preparing at Juilliard, wherever Mr. Denk been given his doctorate, researching with Herbert Stessin. Mr. Stessin recollects owning been impressed by “the maturity and intensity” of Mr. Denk’s participating in and remembers him as “an extraordinary university student who absorbed things pretty promptly.”

Mr. Denk said he “was in class permanently” until finally “at some time I made a decision to believe in my own instincts.” Now he teaches double-diploma undergraduates for the Bard Higher education Conservatory of Music. The pianist Allegra Chapman, who researched with him, explained he was “worried about quite a bit greater than the notes about the web site, constantly mentioning literary and historic references.”

“Now I attempt to technique songs within a more holistic viewpoint,” she additional. “He is incredibly passionate. He used to bounce around the area and bounce about and wave his arms. It was really enjoyable. He tried to get me to think about the music that has a sense of humor.”

This blend of passion, humor and intellect, so vibrant in both equally Mr. Denk’s enjoying and his creating, is what distinguishes him, according to the violinist Joshua Bell. The 2 have already been normal duo companions because 2004, when they carried out with the Spoleto Competition United states.

“You obtain the mental musicians or people that have on their coronary heart on their own sleeve without having a number of musical imagined,” Mr. Bell reported, “but Jeremy manages to accomplish each, Which’s great. Now we have lots of arguments in rehearsal, and that is the fun component at the same time. The very fact we don’t generally see eye to eye keeps issues clean and would make me problem anything I do.”

Mr. Bell, whose options of repertory are generally additional regular than those of his much more adventurous colleague, mentioned he wasn’t normally an Ives enthusiast: “Having a good deal of contemporary tunes I’m somewhat cautious. Despite Ives, right up until I read Jeremy. He just delivers it alive. He has this sort of a terrific creativity, and nothing at all is done randomly.”

Ives’s piano sonatas, Mr. Denk mentioned, “are in a way like animals that don’t wish to be tamed.”

“Each individual efficiency needs to be so distinct,” he included, a person purpose he was to begin with hesitant to file them. Like Bach, he said, Ives leaves quite a bit to the performer’s creativeness.

A wonderful interpretation of your “Goldberg” Variants at Symphony Area in 2008 discovered Mr. Denk’s profound affinity with Bach. Mr. Denk will complete the do the job and Books one and 2 of Ligeti’s Études at Zankel Corridor on Feb. sixteen.

To keep the “Goldberg” Variations fresh, Mr. Denk is incorporating new fingerings, he stated, “to reactivate the link involving my brain and my fingers After i’m enjoying it.”

“I believe it’s an actual magical put If you have the muscle mass memory,” he extra, “even so the Mind is ahead from the fingers.”

Switching the fingerings is one method to avoid routine, he explained. “I get real pleasure from producing in a very fantastic fingering. It is actually like relearning the piece, and it tends to make you not acquire any Observe as a right.”

The musical philosophy Mr. Denk relates to Bach, Ives and other repertory is probably best summed up in that website submit on system notes: “I’ve never been a major enthusiast of your ‘Picture how revolutionary this piece was when it absolutely was composed’ college of inspiration. For my dollars, it ought to be innovative now. (And it's.) Whatever else the composer might have meant, he or she didn’t want you to definitely Believe, ‘Boy, that have to happen to be interesting back again then.’ The most basic compositional intent, the absolute ur-intent, is that you Enjoy it now, you enable it to be take place now.”

[inhumansforever]

Secret Warriors #1 Review

spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers

Spinning out of the Secret Empire cross over event, Mathew Rosenberg, Javier Garrón and Israel Silva bring us the debut issue of the all new Secret Warriors.  Full recap and review following the jump.

A sentient version of the reality-bending Cosmic Cube has altered the fabric of reality, changing history so that Captain America has been transformed and has secretly been an agent of Hydra, quietly biding his time and putting into place a grand scheme to seat Hydra as the rulers of the United States and soon the world.  The plot has been initiated and the world’s heroes were caught by surprise as the greatest among them has been revealed as a traitor and the most dire of threats.   Rogers and his Hydra forces have sprung their trap, encasing much of Manhattan in an impenetrable orb of Darkforce energy while using Alpha Flight’s earthly shield to strand many of the world’s more powerful heroes in outer space.  Shield has been compromised, the majority of its agents having been brainwashed into following Hydra’s command; and there are plenty of angry young men and women willing to join Hydra’s new world order.  Things are pretty bad.

The issues narrative jumps back and forth between periods of time before and after Hydra’s sinister take-over.  The central focus is on Daisy ‘Quake’ Johnson.  Along with being an Inhuman who can control seismic waves, Daisy is additionally a high ranking Shield agent who led ‘Moth Squadron,’ a task force that had monitored Inhuman affairs.  Daisy had become suspicious of Hydra’s plots and Steve Rogers set her team on a mission that was covertly an ambush where her team was attacked by the villainous Wrecking Crew.  

Daisy was ultimately able to defeat the Wrecking Crew, but her entire team was killed in action (including, it would appear, YoYo Rodriguez, the former Secret Warrior known as Slingshot - although I certainly hope she isn’t truly dead because it would be a terrible loss).  

Aware of Rogers’ treachery, Daisy arranges a secret rendezvous with her trusted alley, Phil Coulson.  Coulson cannot believe that Rogers has gone rogue but agrees to investigate the matter and the two arrange to meet once more at a coffee shop in The Bronx.  

Then the take over occurs and Hydra assumes control of the majority of the Eastern Seaborne.  The Inhumans are viewed as impure in accordance to Hydra’s racist world order and the city of New Attilan is sacked, its citizens arrested and placed in a heavily fortified internment camp. Daisy awaits Coulson in the coffee shop but he never arrives, instead she is accosted by a group of her former fellow Shield agents who attempt to take her in for ‘reprogramming.’  

Daisy is able to defeat these agents and she formulates a plan for mounting a resistance to Hydra’s rule.  A key facet to this plan is locating a freeing a specific Inhuman.  She calls upon the assistance of Ms. Marvel and Moon Girl to intercept a convoy she believes is transporting the individual Daisy is searching for.  It remains unclear how Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur managed to escape the DarkForce dome encasing Manhattan, but she agrees to join Ms. Marvel in taking out the convoy.  Ms. Marvel and Moon Girl are initially suspicious of Daisy; the other Shield agents have somehow turned evil, so what should make her different?  Fortunately, Daisy is able to pass Devil Dinosaur’s smell test… her scent seems clean to him and this is enough to assure Moon Girl and Ms. Marvel that Daisy is on the up and up.  There’s a good deal of tension and salty banter between the three.

It turns out that the convoy is not transporting the individual Daisy is looking for but is rather holding the young Inhuman, Inferno, as well as a pair of additional unnamed Inhumans.  Discouraged, Daisy dismisses her allies, opting to continue her mission on her own.  Yet Ms. Marvel, Moon Girl and now Inferno are not so easily deterred.  They have learned that The Inhumans are being kept at an internment camp and will not rest until their peoples are freed.  

Daisy and Ms. Marvel continue not to see eye to eye.  Daisy feels that stealth and digression is advised whereas Ms. Marvel simply cannot stand by leaving their fellow Inhumans locked up in what is essentially a concentration camp.  

Before the two can reach a consensus, Moon Girl takes matters into her own hands and approaches the front gate, distracting the guards long enough for Devil Dinosaur and the others to sneak up and begin to wreak havoc.  A massive battle erupts as many of the Inhumans are freed and fight against their Hydra captors.  

Among the fracas, Daisy seeks out the specific Inhuman she has been searching out: Karnak.  Daisy needs Karnak, his ability to perceive the flaw in all things may prove essential in devising a stratagem for deafening Hydra.  Surprisingly, Karnak is not especially interested in being rescued.  He has once more retreated into a utterly pessimistic and nihilistic mindset.  With he loss of the Terrigen Cloud his race has been effectively doomed to extinction and he doesn’t feel especially concerned that the human nation of America is currently tearing itself apart.  

Karnak’s mood and attitude shifts quite quickly when he sees that Moon Girl has accompanied Daisy in his rescue.  He is quite pleased to see Lunella and quite suddenly changes his mind and decides that he will join Daisy’s crusade after all.  This exchange entails what is sure to be my favorite panel of the day... 

Karnak suggests, however, that who they truly need is not incarcerated in this camp, that he has instead been taken by The X-Men.  Whom Karnak is referring to and what The X-Men are up to are both matters left unrevealed as the issue ends on this cliffhanger.    

A fun albeit slightly disjointed first issue.  The narrative is a bit hampered by being so tied into the goings-on in the pages of the main Secret Empire book.  I’m actually an issue behind on Secret Empire and, while I was still able to follow the plot, the enormity of the stakes did not quite sink in for me.  And this made it especially jarring to see characters like Ms. Marvel and Inferno fight with a level of ferocity that I’m not used to.  I realize that these villains are nazis and all nazis should die terrible deaths, but are some of the bad guys just mind controlled?  Whatever the case, Inferno straight up incinerates a number of goons and nazi or not it is quite disconcerting to see your heroes killing people.  

Mathew Rosenberg’s decision to utilize a time-skipping narrative, jumping to points before and after the Hydra takeover is a risky choice.  It works for the most part, but also adds to the general feeling of the book being a mere side-story to the main tale taking place in Secret Empire.  My guess is that the main Secret Empire book has these matters covered and it may have been a smarter choice to focus on character development rather than the sinister mechanisms of Hydra’s plot.  As it stands, Daisy is offered development and motivation whereas Ms. Marvel, Moon Girl and Inferno feel more like supporting players.  

Fortunately, Rosenberg excels at writing Daisy.  Nick Fury’s training has led her to suspect everyone and trust no one.  Just as she was coming to be able to rely on others, Steve Rogers turned on her and it cost her the lives of her team.  It has left her somewhat traumatized.  It is clear that she is fearful over the prospect of leading the younger Inhumans into battle... frightened over the idea of these young heroes also dying under her command.  Yet she attempts to suppress this fear through a rather transparent facade of jaded sass and quippy insults.  

It’s clear from the get-go that Daisy and Ms. Marvel are not going to get along.  Even in these dire times, Kamala is unwilling to give up on her ideals of what it means to be a hero.  And this is sure to be at odds with the moral gray areas Daisy will need to resort to in order to succeed in their mission.  Daisy knows that this is war; and there’s no way to win a war without getting your hands dirty.  It’s a grim truth that Kamala is sure to have a great deal of difficulty with.  

Karnak only shows up for the last few pages of the issue, but makes an interesting impression.  In the Karnak miniseries, Warren Ellis established the character as a supreme nihilist, a pessimistic curmudgeon who was wonderfully fun to read about despite his sour demeanor.  And yet this nihilism is cast in a very different light against the backdrop of a world taken over by fascists.  Everything that is sort of cool or appealing about ‘not caring’ is recast as complicit when such terrible things are occurring.  Yet Karnak has no interest in the world of humans and sees his own race as already doomed to extinction. 

It is only the appearance of Lunella that changes Karnak’s mind.  It is not yet made entirely clear what it is about Lunella that causes this change in attitude.   My current guess is that Karnak sees in her a sense of dueling intellect and innocence that offers him the one things he feels is beyond him: hope.  Whatever the case, I’ll be very interested to see how Karnak and Lunella’s relationship evolves in future issues.  

Javier Garrón’s art is on point.  He is asked to fill in a great deal of action is a relatively small number of pages and utilizes a panel economy that is highly busy while not disorganized (which I cannot imagine is easy to do).  The action is fluid and dynamic and he really excels at illustrating chaotic scenes.  The quieter scenes are a bit more static and I’m still warming up to Garrón’s particular approach to relaying facial expressions of emotion.  

Colorist, Israel Silva, also does excellent work, especially in terms of using different pallets to distinguish those scenes set in the past versus those set in the present.  My one gripe is the curious choices of how Daisy and Kamala’s hair are colored.  For some reason, Daisy’s hair is now brown instead of black and Kamala’s black instead of brown.  I’m not sure why this decision was made and, while it’s a minor nitpick, I nevertheless hope it gets rectified in subsequent issues.  

All in all this first issue feels more like a preview of Secret Warriors as opposed to its official debut.  It’s a good read, but being so tethered to the Secret Empire event is certainly a handicap.  A part of me feel like the real first issue of Secret Warriors will come when Secret Empire is over and Rosenberg and company can be free to tell their own story in a much more independent and unencumbered fashion.  Nonetheless, it’s still lots of fun and recommended.

Three out of Five Lockjaws

[bloodinhershoesrpg]

Congratulations Becky, you have been accepted for the role of Barbara Donne with a faceclaim change to Kat McNamara! Your application was the first I read over and to say it provided a great start would be, quite frankly, an understatement. I am absolutely enamoured with how perfectly her struggles and reasoning for being who she is to date resonated within your app, how vividly you have portrayed the many facets of Barbie and how well they harmonise within your writing which I can’t wait to see liven up the dash soon! Please send in your account with 24 hours and have a look at the checklist before you do!

REGARDING YOURSELF

Name / Age / Pronouns: Becky, 19, she/her.

Activity: Activity is subject to heavy fluctuation (anywhere from a 4-7), depending a lot on my uni schedule and when my tests are. However, I always will ask for a hiatus when it’s necessary and let anyone playing with me know what sort of activity they can expect from me.

REGARDING THE STAR OF YOUR SHOW

Character name and faceclaim: Barbara Donne – with a FC change to Kat McNamara? :)

CHARACTER DISSECTION

BARBARA. Hailing from the Greek word barbaros, meaning foreign or strange - she’s always figured that she had been named aptly. Always an outsider, always a stranger, even in her own skin, she takes comfort in Saint Barbara, in her strength. She knows how the story goes: every wound inflicted upon her healed, every fire brought near her skin extinguished. But she knows how the story ends and sometimes, in the dead of night, Barbie wonders if she’ll end up like her: end up the martyr, end up the sacrifice, with the insides of her veins painting the ground. ANAIS. French for grace, her middle name always seemed like a taunt to her – in her former years, she had always been lacking grace, been too much raw power and not enough silk covered elegance. But in recent years, she has lived up to it, coating her movements with an old world finesse like a second skin, moving through the ranks without a ripple, leaving onlookers always confused as to where she came from and how she ascended. (Surely, she cannot deserve it.) DONNE. Rooted in Irish mythology as Donn, the god of the dead – her last name always felt like a little bit of a promise, and a little bit of a curse.

PERSONALITY. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be? Barbie thinks she remembers being soft, being kind in the beginning – and part of it stems from her looks. She was born with delicate features, handpainted on a canvas of porcelain, doe eyes that changed with the context of her background (green in the woods, golden on cloudless mornings, honeyed hazel in the pale afternoon light), and hair so bright it was only rivaled by her smile. When people saw her, small and lithe and fragile, flighty in essence, a little dove that alighted in the palm of their hand, it was hard not to trust her, an impossibility to expect cruelty from her. And because the world craves sweet things, beautiful little souls, because it aches in constant hunger for a minute kindness, it swallowed her up, turned her softness into a warzone and layered her edges into knives.

So she remembers her obsidian mouth, flinty and stone cold but still beautiful – tongue cutting through skin so thinly, down at a molecular level, that most of the time, people didn’t even notice blood being drawn until they left, drained and cold. But she believes that everything has a purpose, and this portion of her life is no different. She remembers that it feels just as empty, just as painful, to be throwing words like punches as it does to receive them, and how truly heavy lies the head that bears the crown. She dissembles her weaponized empathy, sheds her cloak of cruelty – it never suited her well anyway.

So here she stands, bearing kindness around her neck like a cross on a chain, letting it glint and dangle in front of everyone, takes the shattered glass hate and grinds it to dust beneath the molars of her smile. She tastes war, heavy on the back of her tongue, and everyone knows the innocents are the first to go. But here’s the beauty of being delicate: when she shatters, all her broken little pieces will cut them right back. And everyone leaves none the wiser; everyone thinks that it’s their fault for breaking it in the first place. Everything has a purpose, everything is by design.

BACKSTORY.

i. dig up the bones

Her father likes to talk about the day she was born – about how when her mother finally had her after an exhausting eight hour labor, she had said, half delirious, “She will have a hard time of it.” He likes to talk about how her mother had cried and held her close after that, rocking her gently as tears dropped from the tops of her cheeks onto Barbara’s forehead. “She is so beautiful, and the world will not stand for it. Don’t argue with me. Just answer me this, my love: why do flowers wilt? Why do they wilt, when they should bloom forever?”

He has no answer for that question, and Barbara learns early on not to ask it.

But her mother is right, in the end. She spent her childhood tucked away and loved, hiding like a little mouse from the rest of the world, spoiled sweet to the core. But the world finds you eventually, and everything will come all at once.

It starts because her hair gleams like a halo of fire around her porcelain skin, and the kids at school tug at it and make fun of her for the translucence of her cheeks when blood rushes to the surfaces and matches her hair. They call her carrot-top and throw the baby carrots from their neatly packed lunches at her, and she finds out everything can hurt her, no matter what it is.

She goes home and cries in her room, cursing her hair and her fair skin and her thin frame. She wishes she were big and burly and tall, so no one would dare hurt her. She begs her father to let her take self-defense over dance, but can’t find her tongue when he asks why. So she channels her hurt and her anger into ballet – it makes her feel beautiful and strong, this tulle-layered corner of hers, far away from playground wounds. (All this hurt and loneliness and spite bites her in the ass one day, when they say her dancing is too much the raw provocateur and too little of the soft princess they’re looking for.)

Either way, her wishes aren’t heard, and this is how she learns the casual cruelty of children.

It changes in high school – while she’s not big and burly and tall, no one dares pick on her because her beauty becomes her sword and her armor. Boys who used to pull her pigtails find themselves wanting to tug her hair for different reasons, those who laughed at the easy blush of her cheeks covet how naturally color comes to her, and with time, they want to press bruises into her skin with their lips and not the packaged contents of their lunches.

She is a stroke of lightning upon her childhood tormentors, just how a vengeful god smote St. Barbara’s killer where he stood after her death. She hides wolf grins behind demure hands, sharp teeth snapping, blood-hungry. Is she not made from the gilded dust of monarchs of ages past, sitting pretty with a crown tipped on a bed of curls?

Payback feels like freedom until you stop and realise you’re still just as pissed as before.

ii. but leave the soul alone.

In the end, it’s love that unclasps the years of trauma she wore swathed around her delicate shoulders, that pulls her down from where she played judge, jury, and executioner in her academy. They find her in an empty training room, lights dimmed and pushed up against the mirror, only it’s not any of the boys they find her wound around, and the lipstick prints on her neck attest to that fact.

Barbie is all little red riding hood to Isa’s big bad wolf, and she’s homesick for a sixty second love, hungry for the sink of her canines.

She is quickly and swiftly ousted from the uppermost echelons of academy hierarchy, but she can’t bring herself to mind. (What she does mind are the slurs pressed in whispers behind her back, dyke dyke dyke.) So she goes back to drinking venom insults and letting it drip off her lips like honey instead, lets herself be repainted kind-bubbly-weak-Barbie, kind smiles reaching welcoming eyes, the Sistine Chapel amongst a sea of sinners, a safe harbor in a storm. She pats the seat next to her and her quick taps sound like welcome home, stay for a while.

CONNECTING THE DOTS

LINDSEY DAVIES. Barbie offers smiles and hugs like an olive branch, offering a friendship. With all the attention driven her way, the whispers plaguing her have abided, instead bitterly haunting Lindsey. They’re a strange duo, abrasive as Lindsey is – but they work surprisingly well. Barbie tries to be a cushion, a buffer of sorts, in social situations, working to smoothing the edges of Lindsey’s demeanor, acting like a balm in hostile situations. While she comforts those left in the wake of Lindsey, a small part of them rejoices to see them put in their place by her words.

CRISTINA REYES. Like attracts like, no? Despite how the rest cage around Cristina like she’ll pounce at any moment, expecting the flower to sprout a pair of fangs, Barbie edges closer and closer, curious to see what sort of kindness the other girl offers, and for what reason. After all, there’s an explanation for everything, and nothing comes without a reason.

REGARDING YOUR INSPIRATION

HEADCANONS.

PICK UP YOUR HEART ON THE WAY OUT. Barbara’s always been in the minority (her name taunts her, foreign, strange little Barbie). Statistically, less than 2% of the population possess either red hair or green eyes, not to even touch upon having both – she honestly doesn’t know why she expected to be part of the majority when it came to love. Boys have wanted her since middle school – since they discovered redhead was a porn category – but she has never wanted a boy; not in the same way they want her. She’s tried, really, she has, to convince herself that she wants them – she’s kissed many a boy feral and left them to scramble in her wake as she leaves. But let’s just say it straight: she’s not.

FAIR FOLK. Barbara doesn’t lie – much like the mythical fae of fables long forgotten, she only speaks in truths or not at all. Of course, this doesn’t stop her from concealing the whole truth, letting others falsely assume their own truths or speaking poison edged half truths. But a full on lie, she cannot and will not do.

NICOTINE FROM A SILVER SCREEN. It’s a stereotype, rail thin ballerinas who have a cigarette for dinner; but it’s the truth. It’s not uncommon to find her outside, white Insignia hanging off her lips, exhaling tobacco smoke like it’ll cleanse her.

ANIMAL PERCEPTION. Ever heard of a saying that animals have a sixth sense? Barbie bonds with animals of all kinds, offering birdseed in her palm, petting every dog or cat she comes across, and those who look at her and see undeserving written across her hiss in anger. Fuckin’ disney princess or some shit.

Thank you for reading! i would have written more but i’m also really guilty of always writing last minute apps; best wishes & really great job with everything even if i don’t get the part x

MOCK BLOG. https://barbiemocks.tumblr.com

[ohmyneganimagination-twd-blog]

An eternal love

Hello ! I hope you’re okay today or tonight.. Regardless of the time of day xD Here I’m again with a little fanfic that I wrote today and that I got the idea from “Animals” by Maroon 5 and “Thinking out loud” by Ed Sheeran. It’s a mixture of love and some “things”.. I’ll not say more ! Before you read the fanfic, I would like to thank all of you again because it’s like I’m living a beautiful dream. It's only a few days (4 days hardly!) and I already feel so good in this community ! I was very well received and you don’t know how happy I’m with the comments you leave me and the likes. In short ! I stop talking ! xD I talk too much..

I tag : @itsneganslucille - @smuttwd - @heartfulloffandoms - @negans-dirty-girl and @autumnjade22

Summary : “Take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart. I'm thinking out loud maybe we found love right where we’re”. Lyrics from “Thinking out loud”.

Ships : Negan x reader

Words : 3232

Warnings : Curses, smutt (not a lot)

Enjoy !

***

You quietly read a book, strolling your eyes on the lines before you, leaping over every word that was written. You gently turned the page when someone entered the room, opening the door with a loud noise, arms outstretched and a huge smile on his face : Negan. “How are you, darling ?” I hope you’re okay because today is a special day”, he said excitedly, swinging Lucille beside him. You frown as he sits down beside you. “A special day ? What do you mean ?” Feigning not to know while you were continuing to read. Negan spoke and spoke but you were not paying attention at all, too absorbed by the story of the book you were reading. Negan groaned with displeasure and withdrew it. “Hey ! Give it to me !” You reacted reaching the arm to recover it while Negan posed it on the night table. “Nope. You will listen to me first”. “I don’t want to listen to you, okay ? I just want you to get out of here and leave me alone”, you retorted as you lay down more comfortably. As you closed your eyes, you felt a hand wandering on your hip and a body sticking to you. Negan wrapped a hand around your waist and collasted against him, feeling now his warmth against your whole body. You shuddered and you had difficulty remaining indifferent to this contact. Negan ran his hand under your sweater and began rubbing your stomach, his face over your shoulder. Your body tensed and you let out a little groan, that you cursed you for not being able to hold it back. Negan smiled and continued, feasting at your reaction to his caresses. “You don’t forget that today is our fucking birthday, do you ?” You sighed and you didn’t pay attention to his lips settle on your neck, releasing kisses all along it. “No, I haven’t forgotten”. You turned and you were facing him, your face a few inches from his. You caressed Negan’s face, passing your hand on his beautiful beard salt and pepper that you liked so much. “And even if I forget, I know you would have reminded me”, you said smiling slightly. You bowed and laid a kiss on his rough lips, making him smile. He threw you down on the coast and stood over you. He devoured you with his eyes as he passed his tongue over his lips. “You don’t know how I want to take you. Right now”. “But you'll have to wait," you said, waving a hand on his chest. “Yesterday didn’t you tell me you had a ton of work ?” He grunted and gave you an accusing glance, making you frown as you raised your hands as if to defend yourself.

“It isn’t my fault that you’re the leader of a great group like the Saviors. And..” You stood up and put yourself by his ear. “Don’t think I'm so easy to have”, you whispered warmly in his ear, smiling as he clenched his fists, feeling his urge rise to a very high level. You pushed him and you got up, putting your clothes back. “Hurry up and finish what you have to do before I get hungry”, you say biting your lower lip. Negan looked up and down at your body as you walked toward the door. “See you later, Negan”, you said insisting on his name, knowing full well that he loved when you said his name. So you left with a smile, not even daring to imagine the impatience and frustration that Negan was going to feel right now. And you had to confess that it excited you. You went down to the kitchen where several women were, looking at you as you passed. You rejoined Sherry who was waiting for you there, a smile illuminating her face as she saw you. “There you’re ! I was waiting for you. I've already prepared everything”, she said  showing you the work plan that was actually filled with everything you had asked her to take. “Thank you, Sherry. I’m sorry but I had to hold him back a bit so he didn’t find out what I wanted to do”. “Of course. So, do you really want to do all of this ? I mean, it's romantic. But I don’t think Negan is very romantic”, she said surprisingly seriously. “I intend to do it. And then, you would be surprised at the many facets that Negan owns”, you said then that you put on your red apron and that you tightened it by making a knot. “Good luck to you, then”. “Thank you, Sherry. Have fun with Dwight !” You laugh at seeing Sherry leave while pulling out her tongue. You took a deep breath and clapped your hands. “Let's go !” And you began to work, the joy filled your whole body with the idea of ​​the wonderful evening that you had planned to spend with your beloved, Negan.

***

Negan walked steadily into the forest, accompanied by Simon and his group. They were out for a run like the usual and there, they stopped near a forest to search a little, looking for what might be interesting for the group.

Negan had his head elsewhere. Today was your first birthday, after months of sheer madness, become a couple two months after you met. He was crazy about you. He was crazy about your body, your voice, your face, your way of being - which was very much like his - and he loved this animal side but at the same time sensitive and generous that you had. You had trusted him enough to tell your story before and after all that. And you were patient enough to understand his, learning a little more every day that passed. You had listened, consoled and changed him. Oh yes ! You had changed the man he was before. You had healed him with your wonderful smile that you offered him every time he was near you. He loved you too much and you counted a lot for him, even if he didn’t tell you so often. Negan stopped for a moment and turned to a tree behind him. He waited a few moments, waiting for the walker he had heard coming to him. The undead approached and before he could hold out his arms, Negan hit him violently with Lucille, his wooden bat surrounded by iron barbed wire. He gave another blow or two before getting back straight. “Boss, we found a few interesting things out there. You should come and see, “, said Simon appearing from behind Negan, causing him to turn towards him. Negan sighed and finally followed Simon. “Oh damn, this day is going to be long”. *** You were near the fence, whistling a little song that Negan had taught you. Thinking of him, you smiled. You raised your head towards the sunset, slowly descending behind the trees. You put yourself back straight, stretching your arms over you and yawning. If you were already exhausted now, you were praying for yourself when Negan was coming. A day like this was perfect for a night of madness ! You shivered with excitement at the idea of ​​this evening and you went back to prepare yourself, knowing that Negan would arrive in a few minutes. *** Negan sighed but couldn’t help but feel the excitement of seeing you again and enjoying this evening alone with you. As he scratched his beard, he saw the gate of the entrance open by seeing them. The numerous lorries and cars came in single file, the walkers trying in vain to stop them. The vehicles stopped softly and Negan opened the door directly, jumping out of the truck. He took Lucille in his hand and made his way to Simon, his right arm. “Simon, unload all that and bring the stuff to the warehouse”. “Understood, boss”. “Ah, and Simon. Let no one come to disturb me this evening. If only one bothered me, I promised him that he would meet Lucille very quickly”, Negan added threateningly before leaving.

Simon nodded his head and gave the orders as Negan walked, almost running to his room, jumping and whistling with joy at the thought of spending the moment he waited all day with the person he just thought all the time. As he approached his room, he felt a delicious smell emanating from there. A smile was already on his lips as he opened the door of the room, discovering on a table what he least expected. He began to laugh as he slowly approached the wooden table. He couldn’t believe you had prepared that : a good dish of bolognese spaghetti and an apple pie. He rubbed his beard as he continued to laugh. Suddenly, arms surrounded his waist and he felt lips kissed his neck. “It's perfect for a romantic meal”, Negan laughed as he always watched the table with amusement. “Isn’t it ? I have prepared your dish and your favorite dessert. What better ?” You said from behind, always hugging him in your arms. He withdrew your hands and turned, and what he saw made him smile more than he could. His eyes sparkled with a spark of wonder and envy at the same time, seeing your magnificent black dress and your hair capped aside, revealing the magnificent earrings he had once found and he had offered. You also wore that wonderful smile that he had wanted to see from the moment he left you. His smile was great as he slowly approached you, taking you by the waist and watching your embellishing face. You held his gaze as he put a wick behind your ear, watching you with his green hazel eyes. “You're fucking beautiful. You're the most beautiful woman in the world I've ever seen in my fucking life. And I've seen women !” You rolled your eyes at this comment but it made you happy. You took his hands, swinging them slightly. “Of course I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. I must be”, you said as if it were an obvious. He laughed and you smiled when you saw him laugh. You took him gently to the table, pulling his leather jacket aside and throwing it on one of the armchairs nearby. Negan didn’t move at the meal, as if something prevented him from doing so. He seemed troubled for a moment. You frowned. “Negan, eat”. He said nothing and still looked doubtful. “Negan. Go ahead. I've prepared all that for you”. He stood still a moment before finally moving, to your relief. You knew it was difficult for him. It had been a long time since he had such a gift from a woman. All this surely reminded him of his painful memories.

He took a first move and opened his eyes for a moment before raising his head towards you with a smile. You waited anxiously for his verdict. “It’s delicious. You're still a good cook. It's the best I've ever tasted”, he said full mouth. You sighed in relief and you began to eat in your turn. This evening looked pretty good. You then eat the dish then the dessert - dessert that Negan liked very much with whipped cream - and you spoke happily as time went by and the stars were already shining high in the black sky. Negan told you about his rather tiring day and you explained how you had deceived him to prepare all of this for him, which he admitted was a great blow. After swallowing the last mouthful, Negan felt filled and in a good mood. He put down the fork and stretched himself, sighing contentedly. He dropped his arms beside him as he watched you. “It was good, wasn’t it ? I think I should prepare dishes every day like that”, you boasted in spite of yourself. “Don’t boast either”, Negan said as he stood up. “I'm a great speaker, just like you," you said winking at him. He approached you and bowed to take your face from his hands and laid a chaste kiss on your lips. He drew back and passed his tongue over his lips. “I thank you for the fabulous meal you have prepared, (Y/N)”. He bowed again and kissed you now with more ardor. You savored this little moment before you retreated again. “You’re welcome, Negan. And now..” You put a kiss on his lips before backing away “if you devoured me all believed ? Because I’m dying of envy”. He felt the heat rise in him and he smiled with a predatory air. “Your desires are orders”, he whispered warmly in your ear. You smile as he takes you off the ground and grips your legs firmly, leaving a groove of kisses along your neck. You couldn’t help letting a groan escape you, making him smile on your neck. He moved slowly back to your ear. “Already excited ? It's only the beginning”, he said as he passed his tongue inside your ear. He smiled as he saw your red face embarrassed. He began to bite and suck your earlobe before softly descending to your neck, nibbling and sucking every little piece of skin available, enjoying with delight the sounds of impatience you let go.

He took you to the bed and dropped you there, making you cry slightly. He took off his t-shirt, revealing his torso and muscular arms, several tattoos drawn on it. He threw it on the ground and returned to kiss you, letting his tongue run all over your mouth with frenzy. He put his hands on your legs and went up slowly, scratching you sometimes in passing. You kept moaning as he passed his hand under your dress, going up on your hips while continuing to kiss you. You parted for a moment, already out of breath. “I'll make you scream my name, I'll make you scream so many times that everyone will know you're mine”, he whispered to your ear, now reaching up to your chest. “I'll send you to paradise”.

***

You breathed loudly, all sticky and sweating everywhere. You caught your breath, still not believing what had just happened. You turned your head to your right, seeing your man in the same state. He put a tongue on his lips and looked at the ceiling, shaking his head. “It was.. It was fucking incredible !” He said turning towards you, swallowing with difficulty. You nodded your head, smiling stupidly at what Negan had just offered you : a dream night. Negan was still breathing with difficulty. You stood up in spite of the pain and opened the drawer beside you, rummaging inside under the astonished eyes of Negan. You seemed satisfied when you found what you were looking for. You went back to bed and handed a box to Negan, who was looking at you with total incomprehension. “Take it. It's for you”. He looked at you and took the small box that was packed. It was a tiny box and Negan couldn’t help but wonder what was inside. He unpacked the gift under your impatient eyes and discovered a red blood box. He slowly opened the small box and opened his eyes by discovering what it was inside. “I knew you wouldn’t have time to find me a present. So I thought a gift for the two of us, a gift that will make us think of each other every time we look at it”. He went tremblingly out of the jewels. It was simple silver bracelets where there was a small plate indicating his name and yours engraved on it. Negan put his hand to his hair, not believing what he saw before his eyes. He raised the bracelets in front of him, looking at them for a long time. “I asked someone to engrave our names on it. I thought it could make you happy”. Negan glanced at you and looked again at the bracelets. He remained silent and suddenly began to look at you and then the bracelets, doing that for a whole minute. He started looking at you again and what you saw was the thing you least expected : Negan was crying. “Negan.. Don’t cry. I mean, why are you crying ?” You asked worry, thinking it didn’t please him. He took a little time to calm down. He took a deep breath and dried up the tears that didn’t stop flowing. “You don’t know how I love you so much”, he finally said with a huge smile. Your heart stopped for a seconde and it was now you who felt the tears in your eyes. You let out a groan of happiness, bringing your hand to your mouth. You looked at him for a moment before jumping on him by surprise, making him fall back. You embraced him like never before you kissed him, transmitting now all your feelings through this kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and returned your kiss, feeling his smile beneath your lips. You embraced for a long time before you separated. Negan, his eyes still filled with salt water, began to look at you. You saw it, that thing that made you fall in love with him, that thing you loved more than anything else : the real Negan. This Negan who had been wounded by the loss of his wife, Lucille, and who had remained strong despite everything. This Negan who was attentive to those he loved. This Negan who was endowed with a big heart, despite what others could think. This Negan so sensitive and sincere with his feelings. Negan, the chief of the Saviors. The one you loved. Your man. Your Negan. You put your forehead against his and with all the sincerity and love of the world, you murmured : “I love you too. Happy birthday, Negan”.

***

Whoa ! So, what do you think ? I loved writing this one. I was listening to the music while I was writing and it was amazing ! But nevertheless, I have the impression that it’s bad xD I don’t know, tell me what you think. Too much fluff ? Maybe.. So, thank you again for reading my fanfics and I hope I’ll see you for an another fanfic ! Me I’m going to cry in the corner.. I just saw Solace and it was so sad.. Joe, I loved you so much.. *actually crying*

[melinthedarkness-blog]

September First

Endless weeks upon weeks of working at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes under a polyjuice potion while the real “Rose” rotted in a hole in the ground...

And this was how it ended.

Holy water cannot help you now. Thousand armies couldn’t keep me out. I don’t want your money, I don’t want your crown. See I’ve come to burn your kingdom down.

It started with a chance meeting in the street. This girl - “Rose” - dying? It was entirely an accident, and entirely the reason why Melinda had picked her and given her that name in the first place. See, she had gone into Diagon Alley to pick up a few things, and there this girl was, dying. Choking on what was undoubtedly some stupid, sugary cavity waiting to happen. She had raised her brows for a moment, questioning her own lack of pity for just a split second before a foreign instinct took over her and she shrouded them both with a quick spell so that passerby’s would walk right past the alley the two were in without noticing a thing.

It started with an idea. So vague, then, Roxanne’s name not even on the horizon yet. But there it was, clear in her head as day: 

Dead people must be a terribly good source for polyjuice potions. 

The polyjuice potion she’d been thinking about for a while, admittedly, but Melinda had trouble coming up with uses for Scarlet’s hair and found using her friend’s identity freaked her out too much each time she did so. But polyjuice had been on her mind since using it at the Selwyn-Marks wedding. Polyjuice allowed you to be someone else for a while; to reveal secrets or play tricks on people. She was angry she hadn’t used it back in school, back with Colin, to confirm her suspicions about him and Roxanne. Then nobody could have denied it. Polyjuice was special. 

And she was good at it. Not just the potion, but the acting. She truly believed she had one of the best poker faces in existence. She could be anyone she needed to be, whether the personality matched the face... or the person itself. 

She didn’t know “Rose.” Not just the real one, but this nameless, soon to be “Rose,” who choked trying to ask her for help while Melinda’s mind went blank, and she started magically snipping pieces of hair off with the knife she had in her boot. 

Magic is nice. Powerful, too. Physical violence is sometimes more appealing, though. 

But no, she didn’t slash her neck just to see all the blood. This wasn’t her mess to create. The girl was already suffocating when Melinda saw her. All she had done was make sure she had a fresh haircut for her funeral. 

It started with a rumor. WWW was looking for new employees. At first, Melinda had simply laughed. Desperate for help, she thought. But then, it was like her brain fit together two pieces of the puzzle.

It started with an interview. Surprisingly easy to get and even easier to ace. She knew Roxanne (or at least, all the facets of Roxanne she remembered from the days they were best friends, and the qualities she’d made up) and so of course she aced the interview. From there on, it was all fun and games: Annoy Roxanne. Spy on the competition. Slowly make her store look like it was losing its control and its customers. Loose hats turned into missing inventory and coins. Escaped insects (which hadn’t even been her - or at least, not her idea) turned into unorganized or damaged product and happy accidents. (She called them happy only because no one ever got seriously hurt, after all. Just some minor scrapes and bruises.)

Of course, Melinda also wasn’t stupid. As her antics upgraded over the coming months, she knew that she neared the end of her probationary period and she was going to be fired any second. The trouble lied in trying to figure out what way she planned on going out. 

It started with losing the world.

Or at least, it had felt like it. Like for a moment, her crown had fallen off of her head in the silence of it all, clanging to the floor with such a sudden violence that the world shook around her. And then it was all so silent again. 

Darius was a solider. A guardian. Darius was brother, and protector, and teacher, and friend. Darius was all she had in the world when Christian was preoccupied with his work, and the days were empty with anyone else but him around. 

She never thought she’d lose him. She’d been too confident, maybe. Or perhaps she’d underestimated Roxanne all along. Melinda always knew she had balls. She just never expected Roxanne to have even bigger ones, let alone that she’d shove them down Melinda’s throat. 

Then again, Roxanne always had been the worst person she’d ever had the misfortune of knowing.

How could she do this? It was a question her mind only whispered once, when she saw Darius, in the hospital bed, looking like he was the younger sibling in some odd twist of fate. He was so hurt and so lost and so confused. He remembered so little he could hardly remember Melinda sometimes. Could you imagine - to look in your family’s eyes, and see them not recognizing you?

She ruins everything, was the simple answer that grew from the anger in her chest, swelling with a hatred that did more than simply light a single flame. 

It started with conviction.

It started with determination to get everything right. She could make no mistakes here - not just because she was almost out of “Rose”’s hair, but also because she couldn’t risk getting caught. 

She’d waited. She’d bide her time. She’d watched for news to travel and suspicion to arise - Darius is in the hopsital? Wonder who got to him. Couldn’t be his biggest enemy, Roxanne Weasley, no. Obviously not. - and rather than smile or agree, she’d just let the roaring fire in her eyes grow, stoked on every whisper. 

She doubted the Aurors were even bothering to question anybody. Let alone perfect little nihilist, Roxanne Weasley.

It ended with a closing shift. Just Rose and the store and the money and the merchandise. It almost seemed to easy, what she’d practiced, night after night ever since Darius wound up in the hospital. The second the last customer left and her coworker was off, leaving her alone to do inventory, she dropped all smiles and facades. She didn’t wear Rose on her face with all of her developed clumsy mean-welling and incessant smiling. Everything just went blank, and she switched into auto-pilot. 

Clicking through the store in her heels, Melinda waved her wand casting spells. Doors locked, lights turned out, and the whole building went silent and soundproof. Then, because it was inventory night and she wanted the street to be emptier anyhow, she went about her rampage, which started so gently at first.

She knocked a product off the shelf. Then some more. And more, and more, blank expression gaining emotion as she begun to kick at displays and throw things around.

She didn’t make it to the center of the store. All of her destruction stayed almost completely directed at the front. And then, because it was getting late and she remembered Roxanne had mentioned something about stopping by to check on her since the last time she’d screwed up closing alone, she stopped. She stopped kicking, stopped throwing, stopped launching herself at displays. 

She turned around, face slowly going blank again as she looked at the entrance to the store. She remembered Roxanne’s curls in her face as they laughed under the sun and ran down the halls. She remembered sneaking out with her in the middle of the night to do the things they were told they shouldn’t. She remembered  the pair copying Roxanne’s homework and staying up too late every night before school talking about so many unnecessary things. 

She remembered Darius in a hospital bed.

It ended with a tremble of her lips as tears rose, and a scream ripping forth from her throat. She felt everything - the loss of Roxanne, the loss of Colin, the loss of everything that created her brother. She felt it all, all at once, and raising her hands in the air with flames roaring all around her ---------------

She let it all go. 

It ended with fire swallowing the doors and displays and even the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes sign whole. And it ended with Rose being the last one there, seen leaving heading the opposite way of Melinda and Scarlet’s apartment.

Holy water cannot help you now. See, I’ve come to burn your kingdom down. 

[ruizalyssa97]

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