#the only reason I failed was because I forgot to submit the first half of the assingment

[thatrandomlemononyourcounter1]

Kinda feel like I'm going to cry

[kiyosamu]

remember.

----♡----

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader.

genre: yandere, dark, light romance. // one shot, 4k words.

synopsis: abusive relationships can seem impossible to leave. when you open up to a classmate, your life takes a dramatic turn in the best and worst ways imaginable.

content warnings: assault, domestic abuse (not from suna), descriptions of violence, yandere themes.

----♡----

“hey, kid.” suna’s voice caught your attention as you passed by him in the university corridor. he was quiet, only speaking loud enough for you to hear right as you were walking by.

“hey, rintaro.” you stopped for a moment, refusing to look up at the tall man towering over you.

“i haven’t seen you in a while. everything okay?” he leaned against the wall and clutched a textbook to his chest. “you haven’t even been to class. kinda been missing my project partner.”

“you got my work though, right?” you asked him, partially covering your face with your hair. “i emailed it to you.”

“i did.”

“okay… good.” you cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling and offering a suspiciously sudden goodbye.

“hey, wait-" suna grabbed your wrist to keep you from leaving. the small amount of pressure more than enough on your deep bruise to make you wince.

suna noticed your pained expression and immediately let go, stepping back.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just wanted to ask you if-“

“it’s okay!” you interrupted, knowing you’d already spoken to him for too long. you needed to get out of there before anyone noticed. “you didn’t hurt me. sorry, i have to go. bye!”

your behaviour was erratic. your speech was rushed; forced and strained with every word as you tried your best to appear normal.

unfortunately it was much harder to pretend everything was okay than you’d originally thought it’d be.

you quickly turned and headed down the hallway to drop off the assignments to your other professor. the last one you’d have to see for the day before heading home. you were almost there. so close you might not even run into him.

you’d hoped, anyway.

----♡----

after seeing your professor, you walked out into the fresh evening air. the cold stinging your cheeks and the wind pushing your hair out of your face.

your cheeks burned from the freezing air, but it was your black eye was that hurt the most.

“i’m sorry, i just lost my temper.” his words echoed in your head, “you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”

you nodded, essentially agreeing with him. it’s true, if he didn’t get mad, he wouldn’t have hit you. and why was he mad? because of something you did. so really, it was your own fault.

you were the one apologizing to him that night. doing anything you could to make it up to him. all of this with a deep purple bruise forming on your face.

when he finally left your dorm and went back to his, you were mentally exhausted. you fell asleep and woke up right before your second class of the day.

he had started forcing you to miss classes, to do everything at home and only go in to submit your work. this was for two reasons.

the first, you could spend more time with him due to your schedules. if yours was freed then you’d have more time together.

the second was to stop you from talking to other men. completely.

...and then he found out suna was your lab partner.

“i don’t want you working with him.”

“i have to. the professor is the one who chooses.”

“then work from home and submit the stuff online. that guy is a manipulator. he’s dangerous and will take advantage of you. i just know it.”

you’d never gotten that type of vibe from suna, but you obeyed your boyfriend because you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t.

secretly, though, you missed class. you missed working with him. laughing, getting to know each other. he’d become a good friend over the past year and since you had the same majors, you two shared quite a few classes.

he was calm. funny and quiet, but definitely not timid. his energy made him come off tough, but not scary. if anything, he made you feel… safe.

just for those few hours you had together.

and whenever class would end, you found yourself missing that feeling.

----♡----

“i have to go to class tomorrow.” you said, refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend who’d invited himself over to your dorm.

just like he does every. single. night.

“why? you gonna go talk to that suna guy?” he approached you, giving you a terrifying smile that you know wasn’t coming from a place of happiness.

“yuji… please.” your words were barely a whisper when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat. “my professor told me i need to start going. my grades are falling behind.”

his fingers tapped rhythmically against your skin. dancing skillfully as he toyed with the idea of choking you. you held your breath, expecting the worst.

“you should try harder.” he growled, digging his fingertips into your neck and you clenched your eyes closed. “get your grades back up so you don’t have to spend any more time with that guy.”

“okay, okay!” you grabbed onto his wrist and his eyes widened. “i will! i’ll get my grades up so i don’t need to see him anymore.”

“good girl.” he smiled, the evil expression he’d previously worn had melted away into a false image of a kind man. “always listening so well for me.”

yuji leaned in and kissed you. you kissed back, barely, but just enough for him to be satisfied and leave you alone.

“time for me to go.” he sighed as he heard the dorm advisor do a final walk through to knock on the doors and let the students know it was time for guests to leave.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, tilting your chin up to look at him.

“sure…” you whispered. you trembled under his touch and wanted nothing more than for him to leave your sight.

“good. it’s a date.” he said happily and gave you another kiss, practically skipping down the hallway back to his own room.

you shut and locked your door, desperately wishing that was the last time you’d ever have to see him.

----♡----

“well, well, well.” suna cooed as you took your seat next to him. “as i live and breathe, i never thought i’d see the day. you finally made it to class.”

you nodded and pulled out your books.

“had to. my grades are slipping.” you sighed, looking around at the science classroom. “what are we doing today?”

“lab day.” suna said as he nudged an instruction sheet towards you. “should we put on our coats and get to it?”

“okay...”

you started to have an internal panic attack. your wrists were as bruised as the black eye you were hiding behind your hair.

suna stepped away to get your lab coats.

this would all be visible, and you didn’t want suna (or anyone) to see any of it.

you nervously approached your professor and she looked up at you with a disinterested stare.

“ma’am, i need to be excused from class today.”

“absolutely not.” she scoffed, “unless you want to fail my class, which i know you can’t afford to do, you’ll stay and do your lab.”

you opened your mouth to reply but she kept speaking.

“go put up your hair, roll up your sleeves and get your lab coat on. you should be thankful you have such a competent partner.” she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, “actually, i think the two of you should spend some time together. he’s my top student and you definitely need some tutoring.”

“i don’t think that’s necessary-“

“mr. suna, come up here please.”

suna walked up with a confused look, unsure as to why he was being brought in to the conversation.

“something i can help with?” he asked.

“yes,” the professor smiled, “i’d like the two of you to do tutoring sessions a minimum of twice a week, an hour each time. could you do that?”

“oh, sure. i don’t mind.” he smiled, “was that all? we should get to our assignment.”

you felt backed in to a wall. of course you were okay with this, you enjoyed spending time with suna.

unfortunately, you were terrified of the repercussions.

even worse, there was nothing you could do about it.

when you got back to your table, you put your hair up and silently thought of a plan. keep your head down, don’t make eye contact. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

you rolled up your sleeves and put on your white coat. it was barely long enough to hit your wrists, but did a decent job of hiding the bruises.

the first half of the lab went well. suna explained things in a way that made it easy to comprehend and you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

until you completely forgot.

you began to pour the green liquid into the tube. suna was writing his lab report when he looked up and noticed your mistake.

“oh, hey,” he stood up, putting his hand over yours to tilt the container back up. “you need to pour it slower, like this.”

when it started to pour just as he’d wanted, he let go and you found yourself missing the brief comfort of his touch.

“good job! you did it.” suna smiled and you looked up at him with an excited expression. finally. finally you were getting something right.

when the two of you made eye contact, his smile immediately dropped into a look of concern.

“what happened to your eye?”

“oh,” you stepped back, covering it with your hand. “i fell.”

suna carefully held onto your wrist and you winced in pain. his intentions were to move your hand away from your eye, but he took immediate notice of your reaction and pushed your sleeve down.

the bruises in the shape of fingerprints stained your skin a deep purple.

“what about here?” he stepped closer. you tried to read his expression but he looked completely emotionless.

“from the same fall, i’m just clumsy.”

“and your neck?”

suna pushed back your lab coat to see the same fingerprint bruises scattered around your neck.

you were suddenly thankful you’d chosen the table in the far back end of the classroom. nobody was ever watching.

“yeah.” you said, practically a whisper. “i’m just really clumsy.”

suna leaned down and looked into your eyes.

“why don’t i believe you?”

“five more minutes!” the professor called, interrupting your intense conversation and the two of you snapped back into action.

you finished your lab report and quickly packed up your stuff before rushing out the classroom door.

suna followed closely behind.

“it’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at him. suna’s expression was no longer emotionless. he was angry.

“okay,” you sighed, grabbing his wrist to pull him to a secluded space outside. the two of you sat down under a large tree, away from everyone else.

“yuji gets upset with me and… hurts me… sometimes.” you choked out. “i haven’t told anyone because i’m scared of what he’ll do to me. i haven’t left him because i’m scared of him. i’m stuck.”

you hadn’t said these words out loud to anyone, ever, and the way they were flowing so freely had you crying before you were even aware of it.

“please don’t tell anyo-“

“i’ll take care of it.”

you looked up at him. suna looked completely calm, his voice smooth and gaze held on you.

“what do you mean?”

suna stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

“i mean i’ll take care of it.” he smiled, “see you tomorrow afternoon for tutoring?”

“wait, suna-“

“later!” he gave you a passive wave before walking back towards the university building.

----♡----

that evening you waited for yuji to come by your dorm, but he never did.

you waited for him to call you, but he didn’t.

you worried about what suna had meant. maybe he was going to talk to him, maybe even threaten him. you’d hoped he wouldn’t do that, but you really didn’t know what he was capable of.

surely the rumours about him couldn’t be true. an honour's chemistry major being involved in a more sinister, underground group that nobody even knew if it was real or made up?

he was too nice. there was no way.

----♡----

after class you headed back to your dorm to get ready for your evening. suna had asked you to meet him under the same tree from the day before. around 7pm.

you debated on calling yuji, but ultimately decided against it. maybe he’d come to his senses. maybe he was remorseful, and just wanted to move on. to leave you alone and pretend your relationship never happened.

that was what you wished for the most.

----♡----

you stepped out into the cold evening air. the wind blowing softly and brushing the hair out of your face.

you clutched your books to your chest and took a short cut through the back fields separating the dorms from the main university campus.

you checked your phone, you were early. suna would be there in about 15 minutes.

you reached down to grab your phone when it was immediately snatched from your hands.

“you did this, didn’t you?” a familiar voice snapped at you. you glanced up to see yuji, sporting a similar black eye and a bandaged cut on his cheek.

“i- no, of course not!”

he rolled his eyes at your reply, clearly not willing to listen to a word you were saying. yuji grabbed your wrists, forcing you to drop your books and pushed you against the back wall of the university.

“you did. tell me right now. everything you said. who you said it to. and why.” the look in his eyes was horrifying. scarier than any other look he’s given you before.

this made it seem like his previous bouts of anger were nothing but minor inconveniences.

“i didn’t-“

yuji pulled back, immediately hitting your chin with a hard punch that knocked your head back into the concrete wall.

“try again.”

your vision was hazy. mind blurring memories together and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence.

you felt a warm, wet sensation cascading down the back of your neck and were immediately soothed by the feeling. the warmth was comfortable, even though you didn’t know what it was from.

yuji’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pressed his forehead to yours. his fingers dug roughly into your windpipe, causing you to choke out the remaining air in your lungs. you felt yourself get sleepy, closing your eyes and letting darkness overtake you as your body went limp.

----♡----

“hey, wake up.”

snapping fingers in your face had you looking around curiously. you couldn’t focus on your surroundings. it was unclear who was with you, unclear what was happening around you, and unclear why you were there.

the sounds of multiple men. grunting, panting. speaking quietly between deep breaths and harsh exertion.

what were they doing?

“hey.” the fingers snapped in front of your face again.

“what…” was all you could manage to say. your body felt heavy. weak. you were just so tired. all you wanted to do was fall asleep. you submitted to the exhaustion, closing your eyes again.

“don’t go to sleep.” a soothing voice lifted the back of your neck, pressing something soft against your head. “stay awake and listen to me.”

“ya like beatin’ up girls, huh?”

whack

“wanna put a girl half your size in the hospital, for what? to feel like more of a man?”

whack

“a real man would never hit a woman.”

whack

“a real man would beat the shit out of losers who do hit women, right ‘tsum?”

“right. maybe we’ll even put him in the hospital.”

whack

whack

“oh, he’s gonna be there once we’re done.”

you finally recognized the last voice. it was suna.

he spoke again, his voice raspy and dark but still audible from where you were.

“i hope to fucking god you didn’t hurt her so badly that she’s knocked out…” suna trailed off and let out a small chuckle. “because there’s nothing i want more than for her to hear you cry like a little bitch when this blade goes right…”

the sound of yuji’s sudden scream was immediately muffled by what you were sure was the hand of the other man.

“…through you.”

your eyes widened and you were starting to understand what was happening.

all you could feel around you was danger.

you started to hyperventilate. panic was taking over.

“focus on me. come on, we need to get out of here.”

“who…” your head started to hurt now. badly.

“my name is osamu.” he bent down and cradled you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and picking you up bridal style. “hold on to me if you can.”

“i’m scared…” you whispered.

“i know.” he murmured, carrying you away from the scene and back through the field. “i’ll keep you safe. we need to go to the hospital.”

“what about…”

“the only thing you need to worry about is stayin’ awake right now, okay? it’ll all be okay.” osamu’s voice was soothing. his body was warm and his strong arms supported your body in a way that made you never want to leave his hold.

you gave him a weak nod. even if you wanted to get away, you couldn’t. so you decided to trust in this man and hope for the best.

----♡----

“hey, sweetheart.” the calm voice of a nurse slowly woke you up. “you’re finally awake.”

“where…” you choked out, your throat was dry and you could barely make out where you were. it was all so… confusing.

“you’re in the hospital.” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to change the fluids on your iv pole. “you were assaulted. your injuries aren’t good but you’ll make a full recovery.”

the nurse leaned back down and held onto your hand. “you have a real knight in shining armour, you know. your boyfriend hasn’t left your side since you were admitted. he’s going to be so happy when he finds out you woke up.”

boyfriend?

your heart started to race at the thought of yuji coming in. you looked around, preparing for the worst when you heard footsteps enter the room.

“hey, sleepyhead.”

“speak of the devil.” the nurse smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “i’ll let you two have some privacy. please press the call button if you need anything, i’ll come back and check on you soon.”

the footsteps grew closer and you heard the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your bed. you opened your eyes to see suna giving you a compassionate smile.

“rintaro?” you whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“making sure you’re okay.” he crossed his arms, “been here since you were admitted.”

you tried your hardest to remember even coming to the hospital, but you just couldn’t. everything was gone after your head hit that wall.

“what… happened?” you asked, your eyes pleading for him to be honest.

“someone attacked you and your boyfriend.” suna leaned in, “do you not remember anything?”

“i remember yuji being upset with me…” you blinked, your mind working as hard as it could to remember something of importance. “my head hit the wall and it’s kind of fuzzy after that.”

“i see.” suna nodded.

“wait, how did you know i was in here?”

“some people mentioned an attack on campus. i got worried when you were late for our study session, and when your phone rang and you didn’t answer i felt like something was up.” he shrugged, taking a moment to think of his next words. “i called the hospital and asked if you were here, and then came right over when they confirmed it.”

“oh. okay…” you went to scratch an itch on your scalp and were met with searing pain at the slightest bit of pressure. “ow!”

“careful.” he smiled, taking your hand away from your head. “it’s gonna be sore for a while.”

“yeah…” you trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. “what happened to yuji?”

“why do you care?”

“huh?” you glanced at suna who’s expression had turned sour.

“why do you care about what happened to him? he could've killed you.”

“i just wanted to know if he…” your voice was shaky and you tried to compose yourself. “if there was a possibility of him coming after me again.”

“not a single chance.” suna leaned over the railing of the hospital bed and took your hand. “besides, even if there was, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

----♡----

you’d found out yuji had suffered from severe injuries almost taking his life. he was beaten, stabbed, and his spinal cord suffered so much damage he was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.

while you were relieved the abuse would be over, you constantly wondered who had assaulted him.

you remembered telling suna and him saying he’d take care of it, surely that wasn’t him, right? there was no way suna could do something like that.

----♡----

months went by while you recovered from your injuries. you’d been discharged from the hospital after 3 weeks, and suna had stuck by your side every day.

“i’m happy to say you’ve essentially made a full recovery.” the doctor smiled, shaking your hand. “i’m so proud of your progress. you’re truly a walking miracle.”

“what about my memory?” you asked, “when will i remember what happened?”

“oh, you might not ever remember. you hit your head hard and from what we gather, you were unconscious.” the doctor stood up, clutching his clip board before walking out. “it’s probably for the best that you don’t remember what happened. you should focus on moving on, now. take care.”

----♡----

“well, should we celebrate?” suna asked as you walked out of the hospital together. you stopped, causing him to turn and look down at you. “what’s up?”

“i just wanted to say thank you…” you said, feeling your face getting hot. “i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

“you could’ve. you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met.” he leaned down, brushing the hair out of your face. the same hair that used to cover the deep bruises, now showing your true complexion. “and the most beautiful.”

you felt your heart flutter at his sudden compliment. suna’s hands found your waist and you instinctively draped your arms over his shoulders.

“you really mean that?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“of course i do.” he smiled, leaning in to give you the long awaited kiss the two of you had been dying for. his lips were soft and you melted into his arms. he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “beautiful in every possible way.”

you felt tears well up as you were being complimented. the sweetest, kindest, most handsome man touching you so delicately and speaking to you with nothing but respect.

you'd completely fallen in love with him, and it was everything you ever could’ve asked for.

----♡----

a few weeks after the two of you made it official, your honeymoon phase was in full force. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. you were experiencing your first true relationship that made you feel loved and you cherished at every moment.

one evening, you decided to go to suna’s dorm to surprise him.

knock knock

“rintaro?” you called out, opening the door to let yourself in. “are you home?”

“in here, baby.” he replied from the kitchen. he was sharing an apartment style dorm with two other men, but you hadn’t met them yet. they weren’t ever there when you were.

“we finally get to meet your girl, huh?” one of them cooed as you walked in. he had dyed blonde hair and smirked at you as you walked by. “damn, she’s a looker, huh ‘samu?”

samu… why did that sound familiar?

“don’t be such a pig.” the other boy replied. you realized they were twins when he stood up and walked over to you. he smiled, holding out his hand. “nice to meet ya, i’m osamu.”

osamu.

no.

“my name is osamu…”

it couldn’t be.

“…hold on to me if you can.”

no, no, no.

the memories of the night of the assault came flooding back to you.

it only took a moment to realize...

...it wasn’t a random assault at all.

[alighieri-sparda]

Cann you headcanon about Vergil holding nero as a baby. But the s/o died while giving birth to him.

I just want angst heh

Vergil in Fortuna Headcanons: Nero and his mother fates.

➤ Masterlist | Rules 

Hello, my dear anon. I am sorry for my usual delay, I hope you are still here to read this.

That’s my first time writing DMC angst, I guess. So yeah it might be kinda shitty I’M SORRY, but I tried so hard. ;w; Hope you like it, my dear. I really do. If you’re not satisfied with its results, however, don’t be ashamed of asking me to rewrite it. I’d do it gladly for you.

Devil May Cry 3 gif because there were no good gifs of him in 4.

WARNING: Angst, mentions of death and blood. 

‣ ‣ ‣

A one-night affair was not something Vergil imagined he would find in the old city of Fortuna. In fact, the population of Fortuna was also not known by its good reception with outsiders; so, when that woman in red approached him and gently declared to be grateful for his work of slashing those demonic creatures, Vergil was more than certain that her words were not about gratitude only. He hesitated to proceed as soon as he found himself succumbing to her subtle proposal, but in his deepest thoughts, he had no real intention of letting this unique opportunity pass by.

Neither of them was completely sure of what they were doing. It was not like Vergil or the woman were uncertain about the decision they made though. Oh no, the point was definitely not that. It felt more like they were just following their pure instincts and deep desires, not giving enough credit to their insecurities or lack of experience on carnal knowledge. Specially Vergil got his mind all blank of important precautions since he was the one who was most aware of what that could turn into later. Besides, they had a wonderful and unforgettable night.

“Unforgettable” is, indeed, a precisely chosen word to describe the consequences of that night in Vergil’s life. He had no intention to come back to Fortuna at all: once his research was done, he would leave that antiqued island and keep his way on his unstoppable pursuit of power. His recklessness would have later consequences though since someone forgot to pull out even when neither he nor the woman had any kind of protection.

He tried his best to ignore his thoughts on the woman and yet her gentle words haven’t disappeared from his mind, not showing any possibilities to go away that soon. Those memories were pleasant of course, but nothing worth his attention, in his opinion. After four months of research and no expressive results, Vergil pretended not to be interested in that ordinary lady and left the old city. But it didn’t mean he didn’t leave something behind: among the crowd of hooded worshippers of the Savior, a humble woman had an accentuated belly bump kindly growing under her red dress.

All of his attempts to forget the woman were all in vain, however. During his lonely and self-destructive path of pursuing endless power, Vergil did remember her several times and wondered uncountable things about her current situation at the time. It started slowly: firstly, Vergil pondered if that gentle lady in red was doing right without him, due to danger caused by the demons who would show up in her neighborhood like on the day they met. Then, he remembered all the lovely words she said to him even after their night, and how her face contorted in sadness when Vergil sharply warned: “Thanks for the good time we had, but do not expect to see me again”.

But Vergil would not submit that easily. Oh, he stubbornly struggled as much as he could not to take another ship and go to Fortuna just to see if she was doing well. If she was safe. And when he finally figured out that the woman was almost certainly pregnant and his direct descendant was completely exposed, everything got even worse inside his mind. Those foolish distractions were driving him crazy, but for how much longer could Vergil run away from his responsibility? Would the consequences of his foolhardiness be that severe for his main goal to be worth his attention and time?

Vergil just made his decision when the memories about his childhood crossed his mind; his tricky subconscious focused specifically on his mother, Eva. After years of feeling abandoned, thrown to the cruel claws of the merciless demonic world with nothing but Yamato and his survival instincts when only being a child, the good remembrance of his calm and happy childhood alongside his family hurt like hell. What wouldn’t he do to have a happy life again? Maybe that woman and his child would be his unique chance to start again. To reconstruct what has left of his broken heart and give his descendent the happy life Vergil couldn’t have. To protect his family at last.

At the same time he missed those old times though, something deepened into his soul was blaming him to feel like that. Foolish weaknesses of his powerless human side, Vergil heard himself saying to no one more times he could’ve counted. 

After nine months of negligence and self-struggling, Vergil finally went back to Fortuna. He was still a bit annoyed about the decision he made, but he couldn’t help it anymore. Even if the woman didn’t want to accept him as her mate, Vergil would try to protect and support his kin regardless. His heart finally embraced at least a part of his humanity; Vergil realized after he stepped into the old gates. This would not distract him from his path of pursuing power, not even close to it; and they could even be something to motivate him to actually proceed.

Thus, the young son of Sparda lost himself among the dusty and antique streets of Fortuna in a search for the lady and the child who filled his thoughts for months straight, and after an hour walking through the common hooded crowd of Fortuna, he found himself in the same quiet street where the woman’s house was placed. Everything was just like it has always been since Vergil left, except for the wild and distorted growling coming from the said house.

No way it was happening again.

Vergil entered the house quickly, but he was too late. Even slashing those demons in the blink of an eye as he’s done uncountable times already, his main reason for being in Fortuna again was laying there: a lifeless cold body covered in blood. Why was she attacked by demons? Did they feel that a Sparda descendant was about to be born, or was she just another unlucky and random citizen of Fortuna who was a victim of the insatiable bloodlust of the demonic creatures? It didn’t matter at that point. Vergil failed on protecting someone who he cared about once more. He was still weak. 

He didn’t even get a chance to talk to the woman again. That sweet voice calling for him, the only one in the world that could make him feel loved? Vergil would never hear it again. 

Although, near the woman’s corpse, a little creature surprisingly was still alive. A defenseless baby was crying his lungs out to no one in that dark room. 

Yet still shocked with the woman’s dead body sight, Vergil immediately crossed the number of demonic carcasses and took the baby in his arms carefully. He had no experience holding a baby, but that fragile and innocent body fit perfectly in his embrace anyway, just like Vergil had done that instinctively. When Vergil put his eyes on his son and realized what was happening at that moment, he couldn’t hold back his tears. His son was alive in his arms, being warmly held and protected after a tragic loss of his family — something Vergil wished had happened to him when he lost his mother. 

However, the guilt Vergil felt due to his huge failure impeded him to keep his son with him. He could not take care of his son, he didn’t deserve it. Vergil didn’t have enough strength to protect him, not yet. But before leaving his son and keeping him away from the dangers of being related to a son of Sparda, Vergil gave him the name “Nero”. The name he would keep in his mind even in his darkest times to remember why he chose to obtain more and more power.

Wrapping Nero in the nearest black blanket he found and gently kissing his sweaty forehead, Vergil lost part of his soul when he basically abandoned his newborn son in front of the orphanage’s door, at the mercy of those who took care of and protected the defenseless children of Fortuna. Next to his wrapped little body, a grimy piece of cardboard was placed to not confuse anyone who would find him: he was Nero. His name would be the only thing Vergil allowed himself to give to him before leaving, no one could ever take it from him.

Once more, Vergil left Fortuna. But this time, he was certain he would go back: but only when he was worthy of it. He needed more power. More power to go back and protect Nero properly. Until that day, Vergil wasn’t confident enough to stay with him, no matter how badly he wanted to do so; it might be too risky. And if when he returned his son wasn’t there, alive and well, Vergil would shatter that city to pieces for pure vengeance.

Bonus: When Mundus turned Vergil into one of his puppets, he had access to his memories and found out about Nero’s existence. Then, Mundus decided to name his new creation as “Nelo Angelo”: to always remind that pitiful descendant of Sparda who he left behind and would never see again for being just a weak and miserable half-demon.

[karasunology]

❝ WHY ARE YOU SO JEALOUS?❞ with BOKUTO KOUTARO !

✎ . . . could i request from the prompt list no. 8 ("why are you so jealous?) with bokuto. where bokuto (your best friend for years now) is bothered by you showing interest in akaashi (you like akaashi basically).

❝ ― submitted by @momoinot <33 ❞

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ akaashi keiji & bokuto koutaro <3

-ˏˋ ✉️ REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

⇣ please read the RULES before requesting.

✎ . . . PROMPT LIST YOU COULD REQUEST FROM. PROMPT LIST O1 | PROMPT LIST O2 | PROMPT LIST O3

[ BEFORE REQUESTING, PLEASE SPECIFY WHAT PROMPT LIST YOU REQUESTED FROM. ]

[ ♡ ] THIS WAS A LONG ONE, wrote this a few days ago so i think it's time for it to shine as a little 500 followers special, thank you all once again for all the congratulations !! <33

BOKUTO KOUTARO.

➜ you first met bokuto under the gym lights; it was when he was about to practice his spikes for a bit more but the boys' gym was closed earlier than he expected, so he decided to use the other gym where the girls' gym resided ─ finding himself staring at you trying to get the ball up with your fingers

➜ accidentally setting the ball with a slippy swerve, it's direction did a 180° as it heads to a different direction where you were supposed to send to, his direction actually.

➜ quick to noticed the ball coming to him, he received it with ease as he sends it back to you, expecting you to stop it with your hands, but instead you continued to pass the ball back to him.

“ isn't it too late for you to still be at school? ” he questioned, as he received the ball, sending it your way as you did the same.

“ well look who's talking, ” you playfully scoffed, your eyes never leaving the ball.

“ you're right, i'm bokuto by the way! future ace of fukurodani. ” you rose an eyebrow at him, amused by his honestly. wasn't fukurodani a powerhouse? you wondered.

“ really? good for you i guess, i haven't even though of a high school yet. ” you continued to pass it to him, but you decided to test his speed as you directed it to a different direction from where he was.

“ y/n, by the way. ” you spoke once again when he sucessfully received it but with the side of his head, laughing while you tried to get it up back for him.

“ huh, maybe you should join me in fukurodani! they also have a volleyball club for girls too. ” he grinned, as he managed to send the ball flying off a different direction with his unexpected spike, with you failing to get it up ─ falling down to the ground while scratching your knee simultaneously.

“ hey, hey, he ─ aGH are YOU ALRIGHT ??” he interrupted himself as he saw the small wound in your knee.

➜ he was shockingly fast to understand the situation, running out the gym doors, leaving you to wonder where tf this boy went.

➜ but your question was soon answered when a sweaty bokuto came back with an emergency kit for injuries.

➜ kneeling down to your level, he examined the wound as he first disinfected it.

“ i'm so sorry, i never meant to make you fall and scrape your knee. ” he profously apologized as he didn't realized how kinda rough he was with disinfecting your wound, bringing him back to reality when you hissed in pain.

“ oH NO I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T DIE ─ ”

➜ your weird tight-knit friendship started off with that, and before you even knew it you guys were inseperable, with you also coming along with him to fukurodani.

➜ he was a good best friend, would always but if not, every other day, have lunch with you. visits your house every week, with both your parents already adoring him their heart was filled to the brim with their love for him. always somehow, and surprisingly good at advices and would always help you out with personal problems.

➜ though he had other best friends, you were the only female best friend he has, sometimes rubbing the people the wrong way as most initially got the impression of you guys being a thing.

➜ if i said that you didn't develope a small crush on him before, i would have been lying.

➜ it first appeared in your first year of high school, with your hormones rising ─ you dismissed it as a small crush, thinking that it was the hormones acting up because he was your only close guy best friend.

➜ and just like you expected, it went away after a few months and by second year you decided to start dating and seeing other people ─ sadly making you drift away a bit from bokuto as both of you were busy with other things.

➜ but what you didn't expect was to have it reappear on your third year of high school, but maybe this time you didn't want it to go away.

➜ the pounding in your heart, it's lovesick rhythm remained echoing through the most unfortunate times where you didn't want them to appear.

➜ like that one time where you were eating lunch with him and akaashi & he just fucking  l i c k s  his lips

➜ you're like : OH I'LL GIVE YOU A REASON TO LICK YOUR LIPS

➜ um ,, chile😳

➜ speaking of akaashi, you were actually interested in him the first time bokuto has mentioned him, saying how he was a pretty boy and how good he was at remaining calm and collected ─ needless to say, you were quite interested in him.

➜ and you even asked bokuto for his number, unaware of his change in demeanor, flicking his gaze away from yours as he merely just nodded at your request.

➜ but despite how small that reaction was, it impacted his whole behaviour towards you; the way he would always try and leave the both of you together, saying that he forgot his lunch and he wasn't hungry etc. but it just felt forced, forced in a way that while pushing both you and akaashi together ─ it was as if bokuto was pushing away his feelings for you along with it.

➜ you and akaashi went on a small date of sort, suggested by bokuto once again. but after getting to knew each other a bit more, he seemed more like a little brother to you at most.

➜ you guys quit attempting to see each other because it just felt too unnatural for the both of you, but your friendship with him grew. though, it left a different impression on bokuto.

➜ in the middle of whatever was going on with the three of you, you once again drifited away from him. but this time, it was intentional.

➜ akaashi noticed how the both of you would often try and avoid topics about each other ans would now barely be seen with each other; unlike before, when you were always seen together ─ and it felt weird, and once again unnatural. for everyone, and not just for the three of you.

➜ akaashi, being so tired of seeing the both of you being dumb and in despair and actually being practical, he decided to talk to bokuto about it.

➜ and by the time he got bokuto to listen to him, the ace was already a pouty mess knowing fully well that akaashi wasn't lying.

“ okay, okay, fine; i'll go talk to her. ” bokuto grumbled as he finally complied.

“ promise? ” akaashi narrowed his eyes at his captain.

“ prom, ” bokuto replied.

“ prom . . ? ” he jerked his eyebrow up, trying to prepare himself on what bokuto was going to say.

“ half a promise ─ ”

“ ─ bokuto-san. ” the authoritive and premonition in the usual calm setter's voice sent shivers crawl up the third year's spine.

“ alright, ” bokuto's hair deflaited

“ i saw her in the girls' volleyball club gym by the way. ” and before the second year could give his goodluck to him, the captain was already heading to where the other gym was located

➜ it was getting late already, since both teams were practicing later than usual for the upcoming nationals; and bokuto once again saw you under the gym lights.

➜ as he found himself staring at you trying to get the ball up with your fingers as you played alone in the squeaking gym floors.

➜ and just like before, you set a 180° from where it was supposed to go ─ swerving it to his direction as he got it up easily back to you.

➜ expecting you to spike it back at him for avoiding you; you instead sent it back towards him.

➜ a weird sense of deja vu overwhelming him

“ you're still bad at setting i see. ”

“ isn't it too late for you to be here, bokuto? ” you asked, as you received the ball he returned back to you.

“ we're practicing for nationals. ” he answered

“ oh, right. ” the awkward tension settled down between the two of you.

➜ and before you knew it, you set a ball away from where he was located as he chased back the ball before accidentally and unconciously spiking at you which hit you hard.

➜ acting from his instincts, he went to get packed ice from the nurse's office near the gym. before settling down in the ground as he kneeled to your body sitting down on the floor.

“ tell me where does it hurt? ” you pointed at the obvious growing bump in your head.

“ ah, shit ─ i'm so sorry. ” he said as he cooled your bump.

“ for avoiding me or for accidentally hitting me . . ? ” you joked, laughing before wincing at the pain from your head.

➜ bokuto blinked his eyes trying to process what you just said as he once again, turned ito a flustered apologizing mess and awfully guilty.

“ both, ” he squinted his eyes, glaring at the swelling bump in your head.

“ it's just that, you were hanging around akaashi too much and i guess ─ ”

“ ─ excuse me? but you were the one that keeps setting us up and leaving us alone ! ” you nearly shouted at him

“ w ─ well, you did say you were interested in him. ”

➜ BB BOY WAS LIKE : i'm sowrry 🥺👉👈😔

“ why are you so jealous anyway? you're still my best friend and nothing could change that. ” as much as it hurts you.

“ but that's why! i don't wanna remain as just a best friend of yours i ─ ” he stopped himself, “ nevermind, i'm sorry i just ─ god i can't do anything right ─ ”

➜ you've gotten too annoyed with him, and just wanted to shut him tf up because now your thoughts are all jumbled up. but what better way to shut him up other than interrupting him with a kiss??

➜ the kiss was long, burning and too slow ─ conveying the mutual longing of each other through desperate lips, molding together. heated; in terms of pent up feelings and flustrations and getting too caught up for the moment.

➜ it was a breathtaking kiss, one that bokuto didn't wanna pull away from. but despite of his whiney, needy and desperate moans ─ you pulled away, panting.

“ you're . . . ” you started off, seeing how eager he was to go back to the kiss with a pout resting on his lips.

“ annoying. ” you went to get up from the floor, with bokuto standing as well; but your legs were jelly & along with the throbbing pain in the back of your head, made you fall right back into his arms.

“ am i really though? ”

[fuckinuchihas]

Omg, I didn't think I'd actually get it! You're welcome for putting you out of your misery! I sent in a guess the first time and didn't get it but I'm Poppy, 25, and I like Bokuto! Thank You!

- 🦄

Alright Poppy! I finally finished it. 

Honestly if it feels like this is not who you are or completely and totally out of character that’s okay just tell me I can absolutely do it again. Or if it just sucks...which it might cause like...I’m hella fucking sick, but my anxiety won’t let me not be productive so here we go. 

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CALL A DO-OVER!!! ILYSM THANKS FOR PLAYING WITH ME AND SORRY IT’S SO LATE!! 

BOKUTO X READER VALENTINES DAY FLUFF 

You’ve been with Bokuto long enough to have mildly convinced him that you don’t really care about the extravagance of Valentines day. You don’t want a huge box of chocolates, to which half of them you don’t even like, or a bunch of flowers that will be dead in a week. 

It’s not that you don’t appreciate them, you absolutely do...but it doesn’t feel necessary anymore.

He makes you feel loved each and every single day. 

You don’t need cheesy red and pink decorations hung up in the living room or an expensive dinner at a restaurant where you feel out of place.

It just feels like way too much when you’ve already got everything you want and need by simply having him in your life. 

It’s more than enough already. 

Bokuto looks down at the last page of his ‘special love coupon book’ and grins to himself.

He’s old enough now to know that it’s kind of ridiculous but he’s given one to you for every single holiday or special occasion you’ve spent together and though you sometimes roll your eyes at what he believes are quite frankly generous rates on the slips, you never fail to smile when you see it. 

And..you’ve even cashed a few in, though after the first time he made you promise not to actually tear them out again, they were in fact, unlimited. 

He’s satisfied with it when he’s done with the design, this year he’s beefing it up a bit and having it actually printed out so he wanted to make sure the colors weren’t overwhelming or anything. 

Once that’s complete, and submitted to the print shop...he’s kind of at a loss. 

He knows you don’t want anything big. You’ve more than made that clear, though he’s been given contradictory advice by a couple of his teammates.

Still...he knows that he knows you better than anyone and that you wouldn’t be secretly expecting more.

The issue then becomes that he still wants to celebrate the day with you, even if it’s a lowkey thing with just the two of you. 

He makes up his mind that he’s going to get some of your favorite food and drinks and a hardback copy of that book you’ve been wanting and he can still feel like he’s celebrating the love he has for you, and that you feel it too...without overwhelming you.

Yeah, that sounds good…

He texts your best friend three days in advance, after setting many, many reminders on his phone and asks if they’ll take you out to coffee or a movie on him, a secret between the two of them. They of course love him and how affectionate he is with you so they agree quickly and he sends the money over before he forgets. 

The morning of, you have a nice lazy morning in bed before you bring up the friend date, he makes a big act of begging you not to go but just before you change your mind and cancel, he gets flustered and says he should probably get his workout in early so the two of you can spend the evening together.

You find it a little suspicious given the fact that Bokuto is about as subtle as a sledge hammer and a terrible terrible liar, but you trust that he won’t ask for too much and you put it behind you and go on with your day. 

As soon as you’re out of the house he grabs every pillow and comforter he can find and texts someone he knows isn’t busy today and grins when he answers on the first ring.

“It’s just a fort, man. What’s so hard about that. You tie a couple sheets to your ceiling fan and throw up some fairy lights and bam, you’re done and everyone is happy.” Kuroo answers after Bokuto explains why he wants him over.

Sure, building a for looks easy, but ‘ol Bo has learned his lesson and he doesn’t do any kind of large scale (or small scale) project without supervision anymore. 

“Just get over here man. I don’t have a lot of time...and what are fairy lights? Y’know what just stop and get those or whatever you think we’re gonna need and I’ll pay you back.”

“No...no what’s the real reason you’re asking for help. Besides the fact that you’re decoratively challenged?” 

“I AM NOT! SOMEONE TOLD ME I COULD BE A MODEL LAST WEEK!” he calls out before he realizes he does still need Kuroo’s help.

He ignores Kuroo’s response and continues on. “Anyway, uh,” he rubs his neck, not wanting to admit the truth but Kuroo is kind of like an evil genius sometimes. “I may or may not have sworn an oath that I wouldn’t do any umm projects without help.” 

Kuroo immediately starts barking laughter against his ear. 

“Stop being such a jerk and get over here dude, I’ve only got a couple hours!” 

“Wh-what’s the-” Kuroo is still slightly wheezing from laughter. “What’s the penalty.” 

‘Oh no, not telling. I’m hanging up. Be over here in less than 25 minutes or I’ll tell Kenma you broke his lucky switch, bought a used one on a street corner and then filed the edges down to make it look ‘authentic’.” 

“Fuck. Ugh fine.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Bokuto hangs up the phone with a smirk splayed on his lips. 

He makes a resolute promise to himself to never let Kuroo find out the consequences of not keeping his promise is that he can’t have kisses or cuddles for a full twenty four hours. 

What can he say, he’s weak..okay. He’s weak for you. 

Kuroo gets there after he’s scheduled the takeout delivery and sloppily wrapped both your coupon book and the one you were itching to read. 

He defends his blanket choices with his life but Kuroo insists on using these plain white ones he bought because it would ‘look more romantic’. He rolls his eyes but lets him do what he wants because if it’s one thing he does trust, it’s Kuroo’s eye for design.

“Ooh I forgot you had these ceilings...this is going to look awesome, dude.” 

“Good, now what do you want me to do…” 

“Nothing, I got this part.”

“Nooo, I want to do it myself,” he says, resisting the urge to stomp his foot. “It won’t mean as much if you just do it all for me.” 

“Y’know you might not be the brightest but you’re a good man, Bokuto.” 

“Eh?” he says, because Kuroo rarely ever compliments him sincerely.

“Nothin’ man, just get the clothespins.” 

They work together and in less than an hour it looks, well...it looks fucking amazing he thinks.

He’ll give up just this once and say Kuroo was right, the white sheets look pretty cool and the little lights they strung up are pretty neat too. 

It looks super romantic so he hopes you like it. 

He kicks Kuroo out before he can invite himself over, Kenma has a special v-day stream going on and he wants to crash it from a different ip, whatever that means. Well either way he turns him down and swears the secrets he has will yet again, stay between the two of them. 

Now he just needs to wait for you to get home. 

When your friend texts that they’re about to drop you off, his heart starts beating out of his chest and he gets super excited.

He waits for you at the door, stepping outside when he sees their car pull in and softly closes it behind him. 

“He yells out a greeting that could probably shake the ground if it was another decibel louder but you love how excited he gets so it doesn’t bother you. 

You make your way over to him with a skeptical look on your face as he starts nervously rubbing at his neck.

“Why are you outside?” you ask and there’s a pink tinge to his cheeks that you’re pretty sure isn’t from the cool weather. 

 “Umm Happy Valentines Day?” he says, an awkward chuckle quickly following the words.

“Kotaro...what did you do? Why are you standing outside?” you ask, immediately concerned about the state of your home. 

“I swear it’s not bad. I just wanted to surprise you so...please?” he asks, a hopefulness in his eyes that you can’t bring yourself to squelch no matter how worried you feel. 

“I mean I said I didn’t want anything big but I guess if you want-” you stop mid sentence, breath stuck in your throat when you see your transformed living room. 

He’s moved all the furniture except for the couch and the tv stand and it’s gorgeous. The lights twinkle a little in the darkness and you feel the irresistible urge to kiss his face. 

So you do.

He never objects to kisses. 

“This is really nice… I mean it. I’m sorry I almost ruined your plan or if I made you feel like you couldn’t do anything. I don’t ever want it to be that way. I just also don’t need you to make a big fuss,” you say, trying to be a little logical about it, but your heart is definitely thumping in that cheesy romantic way. 

“How about a little fuss…” 

“A little fuss feels nice.” 

You lay back on the couch, you read to him from your book and share music playlists that quietly add to the ambiance of your conversation. He coaxes you into some weird verbal games that he’s played with Akaashi over the years, because it was something he needed to bring him out of his shell a little and you end up laughing until your belly hurts. 

The takeout arrives on time and you enjoy the food and Bo loves to feed you small bites of your favorite stuff, so you let him. 

He tells you to unwrap your gift and you feel fondness and warmth rush over you when you see the handmade coupons, this time even more beautifully drawn out. 

It’s really easy to see why you’re so in love with him. 

Even in the in between moments. 

He’s always thinking of you and always wanting to be the best version of himself for you.

I wrote like an extra 600 words cause a lot of it was bokuto and kuroo interaction lol my bad but I hope you enjoyed it! 

[gentlemanoftimetravel]

Adrinette April

Day 1: Pranks

April fools day.

Marinette hates April fools day.

Every year her whole school becomes a circus. Alix and Kim outdo themselves which one could prank the most classmates. Chloé, even if she claims that hole day is utterly ridiculous, plays a few pranks herself. Admittedly some more cruel than the most pranks common for that day.

The girls and the boys played against each other and Marinette is just so done with that whole day.

Normally she would try to avoid that whole day. But this year is different. This time she had a plan of herself.

For the past few years Tikki always was her voice of reason. She endured all the pranks and did nothing in return, that’s why she normally despised that day. But since she accidentally found out that Chat Noir was Adrien, she made a deal with Plagg. Without Tikki’s knowledge of course.

A little mischief with the god himself could only be fun. Now she knew why Adrien’s pranks were always so good, he had help. But not this year. This year it was her turn.

The day started simple. She baked Macarons, colourful as always, and stepped into class with a wide grin.

“Good Morning everyone. I brought treats, please help yourself!” She took the first one to empathise her point and to hide her smirk. She could see the joy in everyone’s eyes and she knew that they weren’t cautious opposite her, Marinette never played pranks. Until now.

Half of the class enjoyed their treats the other half gaged in response. They eyed their Macarons curiously, don’t want to believe that they didn’t taste like usual, another warily bite. Finally they spat them out and loooked with betrayed eyes towards Marinette who cackeled behind her own sweet. “April Fool!”

The whole class gaped at her, they couldn’t believe that their normally sweet classmate, who never ever played one single prank, fooled them. Unbelievable.

Some started to laugh, mostly the students who had luck and grasped a sweet one. “Wow Marinette. That was sneaky! Who would’ve guessed you had that in you!” Alix elbowed her.

“Yeah Dudette, who would guessed.” Nino’s voiced dripped with sarcasm, he was one of the unlucky.

“Seriously thought, what did you put into these? They tasted weird.” Alya wrinkles her nose in disapproval.

“I think I tasted Camembert.” Adrien gulped down another swallow from his bottle. “I will definitely not get rid of the taste.” He whined between another sip.

Marinette chuckles. “You’re right Adrien. The pinkish with the white filling are either Peach or Camembert, the green ones were either apple or wasabi, the purple is either blueberry or red cabbage and the red one is strawberry and the only winner. My dad tried to create these specifically for today and I asked if I could bring some with me to school. He liked the idea.” Marinette carefully plastered a shy smile on her face, tries to look innocent and shrugged in response.

First rule from Plagg, try to shift the blame away. Marinette has a Aura full of innocence, if she wanted to play her charade all day long she needed to play a low profile.

Laughter filled the room. “Your dad has a cruel sense of humour. How can we ever trust these pastries ever again?” Kim eyed the box and glanced at Alix. “Hey Alix! I bet I can find more sweet Macarons out of that box than you!”

“Oh your so on!” Alix launched herself at the box and soon the class cheered the pair on.

Marinette glanced around and placed a small box full of Camembert Macarons inside Adrien’s bag and winked at Plagg. Tikki looked up at her chosen with disapproval written clear in her eyes, she only played along because Marinette promised her every sweet thing Tikki wanted for the next month.

Phase one completed.

Phase two started two classes into the day. Throu Plagg she knew what Adrien planed for his pranks. It was physics time. Originally Adrien wanted to switch some liquids and ingredients so that his classmates would have quite the different reactions for their experiments. Thanks to Plagg, only his experiments went downhill. Marinette tried to hold back her muffled chuckle, but after another failed attempted and an annoyed huff from Adrien she couldn’t take it anymore and let out a louder giggle.

Adrien turned slightly and raised an eyebrow towards her. Confusion written across his face at her obvious joy.

“You seem to have quite the Bad Luck, don’t you?” she quietly whispered, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes only he could see. His frown deepened and Marinette escaped another chuckle.

“Monsieur Agreste! Did your experiment fail again?” He flinched and turned slightly towards their teacher. “I’m sorry Madame Mendeleiev. I don’t know what’s wrong today, I will try it again.” She nodded in approval and turned toward another student. Adrien glanced over his shoulder but Marinette already studied her own Projekt.

Phase three started in the middle of lunch break.

Alya suddenly squeaked. Everyone turned their heads in surprise, only Marinette had a small knowing smile dance across her lips.

“You won’t believe this! Someone submitted anonymously a video to the Ladyblog. One that has Ladybug and Chat Noir starring! And they kissed! KISSED! You can see the love in their eyes! Oh my god, I can’t believe this! My ship is finally sailing. I need to post this right away!” Alya exclaimed.

“Ähm babe? You know what day it is today. I don’t believe that that video is real.”, Nino clarifies.

“No Nino, that would be too cruel. That can’t be a prank! I won’t believe this injustice.” As Nino and Alya continues to argue, Marinette get up and walked past Adrien. She stopped for a moment behind him and whispered in his ear: “What do you think Kitty? Real or Prank? Did it happen and you forgot it again?” Adrien’s shocked and confused face drew another silent laughter from her. She winked at him and disappeared through the main door.

Throughout the rest of the school day she played some minor pranks. Some for the whole class and some specifically for Adrien, which grew more frustrated as time passed on. But her gran final was planned for patrol later in the day.

Patrol started as always. They came together, discussed their route and split up. Shortly before midnight they meet up again at the Eifel tower. Marinette started her last plan for that day. She knew, thanks to Plagg, that Chat himself had something planned out. But she never let him get there.

The second he set a foot on the Plattform she launched herself at him. “Chat! I just saw that footage on the Ladyblog”, thank you Alya for posting it, “that we kissed but I don’t have any memory of that incident. What about you?” Ladybug looked at him with concern in her eyes. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, a slight blush crept upon his cheeks at how close she pressed herself against him.

“No?”, he squeaked, his blush deepened. He cleared his throat. “I mean No, I don’t have any memory of that incident. But now that you mentioned it, someone very close to me made a strange comment about it.”

Ladybug leaned slightly back in his arms and raised one eyebrow. “Oh? But Alya just uploaded it, how should she know something about it, unless ...”, she trailed of, hoping that he would pick up on her train of thought.

“Unless she was the one making that photo! That would explain some things, but why should she submit it anonymously to the Ladyblog? And her comment made no sense, the only one calling me kitty is you but she called me that in my civilian form, which made even less sense.” Marinette sighed, his thoughts can’t connect these two details right now. She need to push further, more drastic.

Faintly she heared Notre Dame chime Midnight. Perfect timing. She leaned back in and stopped his rambling by kissing him. As she pulled back, he only starred at her. “If this is a April Fools Prank, I’m really mad!”

Marinette giggled. “Don’t you hear it? It’s already past midnight, so no prank here. But come on Kitty, connect the dots already! I left so much breadcrumbs throughout the day.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and slowly she could see understanding flash in his eyes. He looked back at her with disbelief and wonder. “Marinette? Is it really you, but how? Why? When did you ... how did you?”

She laughed again. “Yes Kitty, it’s really me! I’ll explain everything to you, but first come here Adrien. I want to kiss you again, I waited the whole day!”

He obeyed her with pleasure.

————————

That’s the end of the first story.

Seriously, I have no idea what good April Fools pranks are. Nevertheless I hope you all had fun reading this story. I’m not one hundred percent happy with the outcome, but I don’t know how I should write it differently. Maybe I’m coming back sometime and change it.

I’m writing slower than I would like but I really want to write all the story’s for @adrinetteapril

Wish me luck and check out all the other awesome writers for this monthly challenge.

Tag:

@jinxthe1

[inspired-by-the-music]

What SHINee Does For Your Birthday

requests are encouraged. please read the guidelines before submitting your request!

requested by our shinee anon

Note: Ash wrote all of these, but Mochi came up with almost all of the ideas. That’s why they call us a creative duo lol. Onew’s is probably the longest but that’s bc we’re weak for his comedic storylines lol

Jinki

Like an angel, when Jinki asked what you wanted for your birthday, you responded that you had everything you needed to be happy. Jinki smiled at your answer, but he was determined to do something special for you. 

When he consulted the internet and then his friends, the general consensus was that handmade gifts were the best way to move your heart. 

Perhaps Jinki should have accepted Taemin’s suggestion less eagerly. 

“Have you heard about those painting classes where you drink wine and follow what the instructor does?” Taemin asked excitedly. 

Jinki hadn’t heard about that, and he couldn’t understand why Taemin had, but he figured that you would be happy to receive something that he painted himself. 

He wasn’t too embarrassed about being one of the only two men in a studio full of middle-aged women. However, a humiliated blush did stain his entire face about half an hour into the class when Taemin slid off his chair and onto the floor. 

Maybe the older women were too engrossed in their own conversations or maybe they were too polite to gawk at Taemin. Nonetheless, Jinki failed to suppress his laughter as he watched Taemin rise to his feet unsteadily. 

“Are you okay?” 

All Taemin said in response was, “The wine is good.” Then, as he studied Jinki’s canvas, Taemin complimented, “Hey, that looks really good! Better than mine, at least—” Taemin gestured to his own work: a single sloppy red line. 

“Just sit down,” Jinki said gently, noticing that the instructor was eyeing Taemin instead of continuing with the class. 

To take the edge off of his mounting embarrassment, Jinki took a sip of his wine. Instantly, he spat it out, just narrowly missing his canvas. Glancing at Taemin judgmentally, Jinki hissed, “You think this is good? It’s horrible!”

Taemin scratched at the back of his neck as he reddened. “Oh— yeah, well, I thought your cup of wine was my bucket of water so I cleaned my brush in it.”

Jinki turned to fully face Taemin. He kept his voice an even whisper to avoid distracting everyone else. “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“At the moment, it didn’t seem that important,” Taemin shrugged. Then, recognizing Jinki’s rare glare, Taemin stuttered an excuse. “Plus, you looked really focused, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

As he blinked at Taemin, Jinki wondered if this was karma for ruining Minho’s anniversary. The karma wasn’t fully realized, however, until a week later when you opened your birthday present. 

“Oh,” you said as you looked at a single red line— if it could really be called a line— on a canvas. Despite your confusion at the gift and Jinki’s bewildered expression, you smiled and began, “Thank—”

“That’s not the right thing,” Jinki blurted before seizing the canvas and scowling at it. “That’s Taemin’s. When I took him home after that class, I must have gotten our paintings mixed up—”

Because you had never seen Jinki so panicked, your mind raced to consider ways to make him feel better, and you ignored the urge to ask for more details about the painting class wherein Taemin— perfect Taemin— managed to produce such an odd piece of art. 

You decided to interrupt Jinki’s rambling. “Wait, so Taemin did this? You know— there are tons of people would pay thousands, maybe even millions of dollars to own this. Why don’t we sell it and go on vacation?”

And when Jinki laughed at your suggestion, you realized that was the best present you could have received.

Jonghyun

Jonghyun might have gone overboard with his gifts for your birthday. After the showered you with countless flowers-- enough to make large bouquets for every room in the house-- he urged you to change out of your pajamas. 

"Hurry, Y/N," he rushed you to finish eating the last pancake he made for you. "We gotta go to the studio!"

Jonghyun raced to the studio almost every day; that was a fact of life you had long accepted, so you hadn't expected your birthday to be an exception. 

Still groggy and intent upon rolling over under the covers after breakfast, you grumbled through your mouthful of food, "Why do I have to go?"

Initially, Jonghyun whined at your reluctance to follow his meticulous plan to demonstrate his love for you. But when he turned away from your closet, holding your potential outfit, Jonghyun smiled at your childlike appearance. 

As he laid your clothes out on the bed in front of you, he softly explained, "Because I'm recording something for you today. It would be really special for you to be there." 

You didn't require much convincing when Jonghyun smiled at you like that. Once your drowsiness wore off, you were all too happy to follow Jonghyun’s plans for the day. 

Key

You tried to brush it off when Kibum responded, "Oh, is that today?" when you texted him about your plans to celebrate your birthday by having lunch with your friends at some nearby restaurant.

You knew Key well enough to understand that he probably didn't mean to sound so uninterested. And although you understood that you hadn't been dating long-- only a few months-- and that you only briefly mentioned your upcoming birthday last week, you were disappointed that he didn't remember.

Still, you made the effort to cast those negative feelings aside as you accepted his invitation to have dinner at his place.  You agreed to meet him at your favorite place: the rooftop of his apartment building, where you often spent hours watching the stars while talking about anything and everything.

It was surprising to find Jinki, Minho, and Taemin up there, too, wearing aprons-- Jonghyun humming into a microphone-- and Key sitting at a table set for two, scrolling through his phone.

Before they noticed you, you heard Minho brag, "I know how we can make things more entertaining while we wait," as he balanced a food tray on his head. "We should race to see who gets to the table first with the food on their head."

While Jinki laughed and attempted to balance his tray, Taemin timidly glanced at Kibum. He whispered as if trying to avoid attracting his attention, "But Key told us not to play around--"

Taemin was interrupted by Jonghyun's excited cheer. "Yah!" he pointed at you, announcing, "Y/N's here!"

Somewhat embarrassed by the attention, you avoided the guys' stares as you set toward Kibum. Unable to conceal your smile, you asked, "What is this? I thought you forgot about my birthday--"

"You really believed I forgot?" Key laughed. Then, with a soft smile he explained, "I only said that so you wouldn't catch on to this surprise."

Minho

When Jinki offered to help Minho with your birthday gift, Minho was reluctant to accept.

"You already stole my reservations," Minho reminded somewhat playfully. "Now are you trying to steal Y/N?"

"What? No!" Jinki blushed at the accusation; it was likely this reaction that encouraged Minho to continue teasing him. Nonetheless, Jinki stuttered, "No, I just-- recently, Taemin ruined my girlfriend's birthday present. He didn't mean to, so I can't be mad, but made me realize how bad you must have felt when I ruined your anniversary."

Unsure of how to react to such an authentic apology, Minho hummed, "Oh," and he didn't think to ask what happened with Taemin.

"So I made reservations at that restaurant," Jinki said. "Just give them my name, and you should get in without a problem."

And you thought it was odd that after Minho proudly escorted you to that familiar fancy restaurant, he gave the name "Jinki" to the hostess. You reasoned that it was likely related to the Anniversary fiasco.

Because you were happy to see Minho smile at the chaotic memory for the first time, you decided not to ask about it. Instead, you said, "Thank you for bringing me here."

You mirrored Minho's smile when he said, "Happy Birthday, Y/N. I'm glad I get to have this memory with you after all."

Taemin

Taemin wanted to make your first birthday in your shared apartment to be special. In the early morning, while you were still asleep, he set his plan into motion.

Careful not to wake you, Taemin tiptoed to his closet where he pulled photographs off of the top shelf and delicately eased out already inflated balloons.

He sat on the floor at the foot of the bed to work on attaching the pictures to the balloons' strings. At the start of the task, the moon was hung high, but by the time he finally finished, the sun was rising; this was partially because of how many pictures he'd printed, but mostly because he kept getting distracted.

Here was the picture you'd taken the day you met after Minho brought you to practice because you were desperate to watch your brother at work. The memory was years old, and much had changed since then, but just recalling it-- how politely you'd watched everyone perform, how you'd erupted in applause at the end, how you smiled as you asked for a picture with everybody-- made Taemin's heart race just as it had that day.

There was the picture you took that time you hid from everyone else backstage because neither of you wanted an audience for your first kiss, but neither of you could wait for another opportunity. You hadn't captured the kiss on film, but you did snap a remarkable shot of Jonghyun's slackjawed expression upon finding you in Taemin's dressing room. Although Taemin could do nothing but blush around Jonghyun at the time, now he could barely contain his laughter as he remembered that moment.

And here, still in his hands, was the most recent picture. It was taken on your trip to Disneyland with Minho and his girlfriend, sometime after your relationship had been discovered, and sometime after Minho had given his official blessing. Taemin couldn't stop staring at it because it marked the first time he felt like a part of your family.

When you woke up, Taemin was sure to photograph your reaction to his surprise so he could remember the way you smiled at him forever.

[lynelovespopculture]

Finally! It took longer than expexted but here it is-A CAOS PROFILE STUDY: FAUSTUS BLACKWOOD  Part  2

SABRINA-As the title character of the series, Sabrina is set up as a hero but in the mind of Faustus Blackwood, Sabrina Spellman is anything but. As  Edward’s daughter with Diana, Sabrina is a half-witch/half-mortal and therefore in Blackwood’s mind shouldn’t even exist. Sabrina is a living, breathing reminder that Edward broke witch law. Yet he is the current high priest and he has his orders from the dark lord to aid Lilith to get Sabrina to her dark baptism and into the school. When Sabrina flees her baptism, Blackwood senses that Sabrina is a rulebreaker (like Edward) and a troublemaker. And as time goes on, Sabrina is constantly questioning what other students just accept, being sent to Blackwood’s office daily. Even Sabrina admits that she always breaking the rules. And it’s not even just at school. Sabrina shows up on Faustus’s wedding day just to stop the marriage. One of the rare battles Sabrina didn’t win. Make no mistake, Faustus would kill Sabrina the first chance he got, if it wasn’t for the dark lord, Lilith and Zelda. At the start of the  show or perhaps even earlier, the   dark lord  orders that Blackwood not to hurt or kill Sabrina and Lilith are around (much to his annoyance) to make sure he tows the line. Plus, he knows how much Zelda loves her niece and Faustus wants a relationship with Zelda so it’s not in his best self-interest to kill Sabrina. But this girl just keeps pushing him and pushing him. Finally, in the middle of season 2, with Lilith distracted by Adam and Zelda, is his and in step ford mode and once Blackwood hears that Sabrina had powers that no witch should have, he decides to burn her but oops, he forgot about the dark lord. Now Blackwood has to back off Sabrina. The final break between Faustus and the dark lord comes when Faustus is asked to bow down to Sabrina, a half-mortal as queen. This is something Blackwood would never do! Bottom line: Sabrina is the Spellman that won’t get out of Faustus Blackwood’s face.

AMBROSE & PRUDENCE: First off, I know that Prudence is not a Spellman but I grouped her in with Ambrose because the way Blackwood uses them is the same, they’re both pawns only on opposite sides. Let’s start with Ambrose. As the only male Spellman, Ambrose can go into Blackwood’s secret club, where his cousin and aunts can’t go. By freeing Ambrose from his house arrest, Blackwood is ensuring Ambrose’s loyalty to him and he is also stacking the deck for the long term. This ploy is underhanded, yes, but it’s smart. Ambrose gets in deeper and deeper and when Luke dies, Ambrose replaces him in  Blackwood’s club, just in time for the anti-pope’s visit. Knowing he was a  big fan of Edward and would favor Edward’s work over his, and possibly the same one who pardoned Edward’s marriage to Diana, Blackwood kills the anti-pope by controlling Ambrose, who teleports himself away but shows up later and attacks Blackwood in a room full of witnesses, getting himself locked in a cell and almost killed. While Ambrose is used as a puppet, Prudence is used as an ally and somewhat of an enforcer. Again, Blackwood gains loyalty by giving the person what they want most. What Prudence wants is a family and, interestingly, it takes almost killing her father for Prudence to finally gain the Blackwood name.  Faustus Blackwood is a master manipulator. He’s very good at knowing what people want and withholding it until he needs something. Remember, when Blackwood gives Prudence the name, Ambrose is still on the run, this makes him a loose end because he knows who really kills the anti-pope. Prudence is not stupid but she has lived her entire life as an orphan, being given her family name and being called daughter is her dream come true. For Faustus, the timing is perfect-she protects her father when Ambrose shows up to kill him. (SIDE NOTE: when you try to  kill someone; sneaking up on them-good; yelling DIE DIE-bad) However, Prudence's absolute loyalty to her father blinds her to the people who really care about her: her true family is the weird sisters, they would kill for her and she would kill for them, even her budding friendship with Sabrina. When Prudence starts to doubt, her father soothes her with a kiss. Prudence is rare on the show in that she realizes on her own that by being with her father, she’s realized that she‘s on the wrong side. Prudence then begins her own redemption by freeing Zelda and gets her sisters to the Spellmans to heal them.

HILDA-I love Hilda. But even Hilda says herself that people overlook her. Blackwood sadly is one of them. Even when the height  of madness and his bid to destroy the Spellmans, Faustus does not give Hilda a second thought.

ZELDA-Lastly, we come to the most complex and most important relationship Faustus Blackwood has with a Spellman. What I love about the start of this show is we don’t know the characters but they know each other. Harvey and Sabrina don’t meet in the pilot, they’re already dating.  In episode 3, Faustus and Zelda share their 1st  scene alone together and it quickly becomes clear that these 2 have a past. Meeting Zelda Spellman must have shaken Faustus Blackwood’s beliefs to the core. Why? Because all his life, Blackwood has been raised to believe that witches (women) are less than warlocks (men).  Zelda is powerful, beautiful, intelligent and devout, his equal in every single way. This is the type of woman that should disgust him but it has the opposite effect. Faustus is drawn to her. At first, perhaps, he thinks he’s in lust. Faustus knows that to get rid of lust is to bed the object of your desire once or twice. So, with this in mind, young Faustus and Zelda begin their courtship. Except, maybe for the 1st time in his life, Faustus never tires of Zelda, in fact, Blackwood falls hopelessly in love with Zelda. So much so that he wants to bring into his life forever, he wants to marry her, yet Edward objects. I’ve already spoken in-depth about Edward and why I believed Blackwood married Constance in part 1 (go read it, if you haven’t yet) so I’m going to skip ahead a bit. Stuck working for a man he’s growing to hate and trapped in a marriage he never wanted, Blackwood is growing bitter and resentful. He also missing Zelda terribly but when Zelda returns, it’s torture for Faustus. Perhaps, Edward was hoping that marriage to another woman would break Faustus’s bond with Zelda but it doesn’t. The marriage between Faustus and Constance should have worked, the witch seems submissive to her husband. Not minding his demand for a male heir and even looking for his permission before eating at the Spellman dinner party during the Feast of Feasts. But the heart, right or wrong, wants what it wants. Faustus Blackwood’s heart only wants Zelda Spellman. Hilda says that Constance and Zelda always got along. This is not surprising, these 2 women are part of the same church and the same coven. Plus Constance is married to someone that Zelda considers an old friend, they’re not aware that Faustus is still completely in love with Zelda. The 2  women are not best friends but they’re on good terms. As years go by, Constance only fails in Faustus’s eyes by repeatedly miscarrying their children and by contrast is Zelda’s brilliant career as a mid-wife and the fact that she has never lost a baby during delivery. By the time the show starts, I believe that Faustus is obsessed with Zelda. He HAS  to be near her.  Yes, she the one that goes to him to talk with Sabrina’s day in court but he leaves his chair to walk closer to her, he reaches for her hand, he strokes her hair and kisses her brow. Yes, Zelda seems to enjoy his attention but he makes the first move. Later, Faustus uses her wife’s latest pregnancy to bring Zelda even closer to him, by asking her to be Constance’s midwife even if Zelda hasn’t practiced in years. Things shifts on the night that Blackwood comes to the house to lift Ambrose’s house arrest. Note that Blackwood is almost at the door before Zelda stops him. Blackwood did NOT come to see Zelda tonight so the following scene is not part of his master plan for once. At first, it’s a high priest hearing a confession. As their conversation continues, it grows more and more private and intimate until they whisper each other’s names and kiss deeply. I must confess, I love this scene. This could be the only time that Faustus is not plotting, he’s just reacting. He doesn’t lift Zelda up to him, he slides down to her. At that moment, Faustus is not a sexiest or a high priest, he’s just a man dying to be in Zelda’s arms. Even the way he holds Zelda as the kiss deepens, I  got the feeling that if  Zelda breaks the kiss, Faustus will still be holding Zelda close. When she doesn’t pull away, his hands go to her face. Twice, he pulls away, just to look at Zelda’s face, as if he’s trying to decide if this real or a dream. It’s implied that Faustus and  Zelda make love that night and it’s bliss for both. Zelda is so affected that she can barely focus on Hilda is saying to her. Faustus can be more focus.  He talks with Ambrose and pulls away when Zelda tries to kiss him but only because he shares a sexual fantasy with her. He even asks her how it sounds to her meaning that Blackwood does want Zelda to submit to him sexually, but only if she wants to do so willingly. She does and their affair goes on hot and heavy. Does Blackwood feel guilty for cheating on his pregnant wife? Nope. 2 reasons for this; Constance herself admits that Faustus is a slut and, in his own mind, he was always supposed to end up with Zelda anyway. During their next romp, Blackwood says he misses the old days where everyone slept with everyone but all Zelda does is casually mention that she prefers 1 partner and that’s it, it is possible that Blackwood never again even looks at another woman. He even sounds bored while introduces the stripper to the schoolboys in Greys.  In other words, he may be married to Constance, but he’s only faithful to Zelda. He also asks her the be the twins’ night mother and to take over Constance’s classes at the academy. It’s like  Blackwood is slowly trying to replace Constance with Zelda. During the storm, Luke teleports Ambrose to the school and away from his family because he loves him. Faustus does the exact same thing with Zelda just 1 scene before. True, he explains that Constance is in labor but when Zelda appears, his hand is on her hip. So, Zelda delivers the twins and Constance dies. At no point does Blackwood show any grief for the wife he never wanted.  He could even be happy this happened. After all, with both Edward and Constance dead, his long-ago dream of marrying Zelda is suddenly back on the table. By part 2, Faustus has talked Zelda into returning to teaching full-time, so she’s part of his life daily. The fact that only Zelda can quiet his crying son enforces to Blackwood that he’s doing the right thing. Yet he slips up when Zelda asks for clarity in their relationship and he is more worried about how the public will see it since he’s still supposed to be in mourning.  Annoyed, Zelda breaks off their sexual affair. However, the attraction remains. Be it looking at each other at the play, chatting at Gray’s, post-play or making out in the woods during the hunt. It is during Luperella, that Faustus proposes to Zelda. She is stunned, she just wanted to know where they were going as a couple, he’s not only ready to go public, he’s ready for forever. Zelda accepts for  power (which I don’t believe  but that for another essay) but Faustus’s motive for marrying Zelda is more unclear. He tells the weird sisters that the Spellmans are in his thrall but come on, we’ve all seen Faustus enthralled by Zelda. Reasons aside, the night before the wedding, Faustus tells baby Judas that tonight there will be blood and tomorrow there will be glory. The ‘blood’ is obviously the murder of the anti-pope and the ‘glory’ is his marriage to Zelda. As soon as dawn comes, Faustus is determined that today is THE day he will make Zelda his wife and nothing- not the death of the witch pope, not Sabrina and Nick’s glamours, not even Ambrose’s attack on him will stop him. For once, he’s right. He marries Zelda, not in the original church wedding they planned but in the privacy of his office, away from the other Spellmans. Once they are in Rome, on their honeymoon, Faustus gave Zelda a music box as a wedding gift, but he enchanted it with the Caligari spell. Zelda tells Hilda that she got it on their first night in Italy, not their wedding night, (but it could have been the same thing) making me believe that Faustus wanted a willing bride on their first night, just as Zelda married him of her own will. Why did he do this? The simple answer is that he wants a submissive now that they’re married. I don’t think so. After all, he has always been attracted to her and she has always been a strong woman.  I believed he uses the Caligari spell for a different reason. Blackwood, once he returns to Greendale, will start on his mission of destroying the Spellmans. We all know that Zelda’s first loyalty will always be to her family, no matter who she is married to. The spell could be a way to sidetrack the powerful Spellman witch. It also possible that once he had dealt with Ambrose and Sabrina, Blackwood was planned to taking off the spell himself. Even after they marry, there is proof that Faustus truly loves Zelda. After their marriage, Faustus wears a wedding ring, something he never did while married to Constance. From his wedding day to the end of season 2,  he is never seen without the ring. The strongest proof of Faustus’s love is that he never tries to kill Zelda. He could have twice.  Once when they were in Rome, when there were no other Spellman family members around and again when he discovers that Zelda stole his daughter. Even in her cell, Faustus gives his wife a small kindness, a chair to sit in.

FINAL THOUGHTS

I get why Faustus Blackwood is hated.  I get why he is liked. Personally, I like him. I never heard of Richard Coyle before this but I think he is doing a superb job. Some people think that Blackwood should be killed off but I think that would be a shame. As a villain, Blackwood is much more than ‘a monster of the week’ as he has several relationships with a lot of other characters. He’s the father of one and husband to another. I’m not against a redemption arc for him but even I know he has a long way to go. Whatever fate awaits Faustus Blackwood, we can all watch it play out when Part 3 of Chilling Adventures of Sabrina drops on Jan. 24, 2020.

Did you like this? Agree or disagree? Did I miss something? PLEASE LIKE, SHARE AND COMMENT!! WHAT CHARACTER SHOULD I BREAK DOWN NEXT?

[prorevenge]

Got my nightmare professor fired, might've indirectly gotten him deported too

Before this tale even begins, this is obviously a throwaway account. This is a big bitch of a story spanning two semesters, so I'm putting the tealdeer at the beginning and at the end for those who are short on time.

TL;DR - My French professor was so terrible that I decided to get him fired on behalf of my classmates. After he got fired, my partner that I worked with to do this tipped him off to an immigration agency to get him deported.

Last semester, I enrolled in an introductory French course at my university. This was to learn at least a little bit of French so that I could read French papers about French filmmaking techniques since I'm a pretty hardcore film student and I really love film as an art form. Plus, I needed some gen ed credit for my degree, so it made sense to take the course.

I went to the first lecture kind of dreading the course. I was in 19 credit hours, which is taking six classes in a single semester, and the class was 4 credit hours, meaning we met four days out of the week, every week. Very overwhelming schedule, indeed. Needless to say, I didn't work a single job that semester.

The professor, who will be referred to as Baguette because it's one of the few French words I actually know, began to go through the syllabus and I watched as the excitement that is usually present in students on the first day slowly left everyone's faces. Before I explain why, I have to address that this is the most basic French class that the university I go to offers and is really meant for people who never took a lick of French in high school. Like me.

Baguette announced that not only would he be teaching the entire class in fluent French with no English whatsoever, he wouldn't be answering questions in English at all, and if you asked him a question in French but got even a word or a conjugation wrong, he wouldn't answer you either. Attendance was mandatory as well, and you could only miss 4 class periods before he started dropping letter grades. Now, this attendance policy is unfair bullshit because we met for class just under 60 times that semester, meaning you would fail the course if you missed 8 class periods, which is only about 7% of the total course. I was looking around the class and people looked like they couldn't drop this class fast enough.

Then, he announced that not only would we not be using a physical book, we'd be using a free website online, a site called Francais Interactif. Now, this got some excitement back in the air. Textbook prices suck, and anything to lower the cost of education for students is great. You can even use the site yourself to practice your French skills, if you want. It's open source, knock yourself out.

That said, the site isn't meant to replace a textbook. There's a free workbook and audio files to help with aural comprehension on it, and that helped me and some of the other students pass some of the exams, but the site's equivalent to the part of a textbook that actually teaches you the material is extremely lacking, sometimes only having a couple of paragraphs about a really important concept in the language. In short, it gives you a ton of ways to practice concepts but almost no ways to learn them in the first place.

This would have been totally fine if Baguette would have explained things better in his lectures. But, as you'll recall, he gave them entirely in French, and in fast fluent French. So, picture this; you have to sit through four classes a week that you understand literally nothing of for an hour at a time while the professor rambles on in a language that you don't understand but are desperately trying to learn, and on top of all that, you can't even ask him any questions in English because he won't answer you and you can't ask him any questions in French either, because you don't know how to do that properly yet, and you won't for 3/4ths of the semester, because the unit that covers question words and phrases was arbitrarily put a few weeks after midterms, and on top of all that, you can't even really do your homework or study for exams because you have no fucking idea what any of this nasally shit means. Naturally, we, as a class, slowly started to get more and more frustrated as time went on. A few of us decided to band together and be friends and study partners to weather the storm. I'll call the important ones to the story R and S.

S was a foreign exchange student from Spain who spoke perfect Spanish and was taking the class to learn French for when she goes back to Europe. Now, we dug into what all other classes Baguette taught and found out that he taught Spanish, too. Perfect. We found a loophole. We could ask S a question in English, and she could ask him in Spanish, since it wasn't asking him in English, and he could answer in Spanish and she could translate that back to us in English. Now, you might be saying to yourself that this a fucking stupid and no self respecting educator should teach in this broken, shitty, ass-backwards way. You're right.

This worked for a bit, but he started answering S's Spanish questions in French to combat our little exploit of the rules. We were defeated and back to square one. We needed to devise a new plan, because most of us were failing at this point and we were stressed beyond belief.

R, a frat lad, and I, decidedly not a frat lad, became unlikely friends. He was a pretty naive kid, and he was a hardcore drinker. It visibly took a toll on him. He had a beer gut at 22 and addiction kind of mentally hollowed him out and made him flippant and emotional. The guy was super easy to piss off and he overreacted to everything. I felt bad for the guy and even outside of the struggle in class, I tried my best to be there for him. We were talking one day and we decided to meet up at the library and just theorize ways to crack the class to get at least a 60.

At the library, R was playing around on Francais Interactif trying to find the videos the professor would use for the aural part of the exam (basically, you'd listen to the video and copy down whatever the person was saying for credit. problem was, it was hard as shit and it was easily the part of the exams that took the biggest chunk out of the class's grade). He couldn't find them on the site anywhere and he got frustrated and gave up, so he started filling in the slots where you put answers on the homework pages of Francais Interactif with random words.

That's when we realized that when you do this, the site gives you the right answer regardless, no matter how wrong you are. Essentially, we now had access to the entire course's answers for the homework section and all we had to do was put one character into the answer boxes and, since all we had to do for the homework assignments was copy and paste our answers into a Word document and submit them online, we could theoretically do all the homework while knowing zero material whatsoever if we just changed the answers in Word. We sat for about 45 minutes and did the rest of the homework for the entire course this way in one sitting.

We agreed to not turn it all in at once so we couldn't get caught and we agreed to keep our mouths shut and only share this with people who wouldn't rat on us. Obviously, we told S.

One of the things I'll never forget about that first French class was that, during the final, one of the students started to quietly weep. Then, the weeping got louder, then louder still. The student was clutching his head in his hands and you could feel the palpable impotent frustration at his inability to do French correctly. After I finished the final, I saw him outside the class staring out a window in the hall. I asked if he was alright and what he was crying about and he told me he couldn't answer even the most basic questions asking for words for things like left and right and up and down and that was thing that finally broke him. That got to me, man.

Most of the kids failed the course, even some of the ones who used the homework exploit. R and S passed with a D and I passed with a C, surprisingly. The professor actually liked me, for some reason, and graded my exams a bit more fairly. Even still, I'm an A/B student, one in the Honor's Program at my university, so a C kind of stung my GPA. But, seeing as more than half the class failed, I counted my lucky stars that I got off easy.

I went to enroll in my classes for the next semester, and I had completely forgot that I still had to take another French class for my degree. I checked the class list and the second class you're supposed to take in the progression was only taught by Baguette. No other professor taught Beginning French II, apparently. This struck me as kind of odd, so I checked the rest of the French classes that were available. All of them, all 6 courses in the French department, were taught by Baguette. He was the only fucking teacher the department had. My stomach dropped as I realized I had locked myself into yet another class taught by the worst professor I've ever had, to this day.

This is class where the revenge begins, and I'm sorry if that preamble was too long, but I had to give context as to how horrible Baguette was. Even still, I'm frankly not doing him justice. His class was an artful trainwreck of incompetence, in the slowest slow motion available over nearly 60 class periods. And I had to do it again, only this time with harder material.

I had been keeping up with R and S over the winter break and S was going back to Spain, so she wouldn't be in the next class with me. But, I got R to enroll in the same section of Beginning French II as me.

Baguette passed out the syllabus to Beginning French II and it was the exact same as French I, down to us using Francais Interactif again, just in the higher chapters instead of the basic chapters. Now, here's the thing about learning a foreign language; you have to build from the basics, or else none of the other stuff makes sense. None of us in that class, not one person, knew any of the material past maybe Chapter 3. Most of us didn't even know how to ask questions. I did, so I asked questions for people who didn't, since S wasn't there.

Well, if you thought we bumbled through the basic material, no harder bumbling took place then when we started on things that have no direct English translation like y and en. When he asked students questions in this class, they'd just kind of look at him dumbfounded and shrug.

We got a study guide for our first exam and I was going to study my ass off so that I could get a better grade than a C. Besides a brief stint with depression my first semester that made me not be able to go to classes and fail one of my courses, a C was the lowest grade I had gotten at university. I must've studied for twenty hours over the course of a week before the exam. I hadn't even put that much effort into classes for my major. I got into class on the day of the exam, and nothing that I had spent all that time studying was on it. I bombed that test spectacularly, getting a 30%.

At this point, I was pretty much done. I was willing to go to my professor's office hours and ask him how I was supposed to study for his exams effectively, and his response is what began my quest to get revenge on him. He told me to watch YouTube videos. I don't know what it was about this that got me so pissed, but I was fired up.

But, that wasn't all that drove me to take the revenge I took on this fucker. No, what drove me to go after this guy was R calling me up crying after getting his exam back. He did worse than I did. He got a 15%. He kept repeating through sobs that he just wanted to be a good student and that he didn't want to disappoint his mom again. I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried at this. I thought back to that kid in French I after the final, about my peers and about R and something inside me snapped. I was going to get this guy fired and peacefully do anything else I could to ruin this guy's life one way or another, and R was going to be my Right Hand Man.

We met at his dorm and started brainstorming. It was about halfway through the semester, after our midterms. We both had a job, a significant other, extracurricular activities and I was taking 19 hours again this semester. We were going to need time on our side, a commodity that neither of us had, and we were going to need it quickly. We knew that the professor was going to be gone for a week at a conference right after spring break, so there was a two week window there. But, even still, we needed more time for what we started planning to do. I faked a doctor's note for two weeks absence and R agreed to use all four of his absences to meet at the same time French was supposed to occur and plan our peaceful academic coup.

Now, I knew I was eventually going to get caught from word go. But, I was so confident that I could get this guy fired before I would have a disciplinary hearing that I took the gamble, and Baguette took the bait. He excused me for two whole weeks.

So, you're probably wondering what we actually did. Well, the reason we needed so much time is that we needed time to both conduct interviews from the class as well as collect data on scores. We got a total of thirteen out of the seventeen students to make a statement about Baguette's performance in his Beginning French II class and all of them were negative. This was just in one section of the course.

Then, we asked if we could have their exam scores so that we could have some hard data to nail this guy with. All but two complied. We did some quick maths, and determined that more than half the class failed the exams, with most scoring between 30 and 50.

But, as it turns out, we didn't even need the exam scores given to us. We figured out that the online grade database site that our school uses so students can monitor their grades without asking their profs has a built in feature that shows the class average of every assignment that's put into the gradebook. Not a single assignment had a class average above a 50 except for the homework, which had a class average of around 80, no doubt thanks to the stupid exploit in the website.

Sure enough, I got tagged with a notice that I broke the discipline code of the university because obvious shop is obvious. But, it didn't matter. I had everything I needed to go to the Foreign Language department chair and sort this shit out. So, I did.

I showed the department chair all the data, let him listen to the audio from the student testimonies as well as gave my own testimony on the course. After showing him all this, he was dumbfounded. Not only did the chair not know that Baguette was a shitty teacher, almost nobody did course evaluations for French I, so he thought that Baguette was doing a decent job. He took all my evidence and gave it to the dean of arts and sciences and a couple weeks later, I get an email saying that Baguette was Bag-gone and that I was going to be withdrawn from the course along with everyone else who would've likely failed. Those who would've passed got to get a Credit Received grade without having to take the final. He got fired one semester before he qualified for his tenure.

But, that's not the juiciest fucking morsel of this tale. You're probably wondering how he got deported and how I found out that he got deported because of his firing. Well, after my disciplinary hearing got thrown out because the complainant was no longer affiliated with the university, I got more than I bargained for.

During his lectures, one of the few times he spoke English was after he introduced the syllabus on the first day. He had everyone introduce themselves and he started the exercise by introducing himself. Well, in his introduction, I remember him saying something about him being an immigrant from Venezuela. I live in the States (Etats-Unis for you Bonjour Bois), and some of you might know that we have pretty strict visa policies.

Well, R is pretty conservative. After our work got Baguette fired, we celebrated by getting some beer and shooting the shit. We talked about random aspects of the course and the fact that he was an immigrant got brought up. Apparently, R didn't know this and he was pretty upset about it. I tried to calm him down, but he went on a rant that I tried to politely nod along to while tuning out since I'm not really about that. I didn't think anything of it until a couple of days later.

He called me up and told me that he tipped Baguette off to a certain immigration agency for a "visa check" (his words, not mine) and that now all we had to do was wait. I was shocked. I didn't think this would go this far. I feigned that I was pleased with this but in reality, I was kinda bummed. Since he was probably here on an academic visa since he was a professor, he probably is going back home to Venezuela. I am glad, though, that he won't be teaching any more of my fellow students at my uni, because I wouldn't wish his classes on anyone.

TL;DR - My French professor was so terrible that I decided to get him fired on behalf of my classmates. After he got fired, my partner that I worked with to do this tipped him off to an immigration agency to get him deported.

edit: formatting

(source) story by (/u/ouiouirevenge)

[crystalblueskie]

I got bored and wrote some jokes. Tell me if you like them.

So, to get started let me tell you a little something about my family. My mom is disabled and so she has a service dog named Callie Ann...that is such a country white girl name, Callie Ann, amirite? Anyways, so this dog obviously goes everywhere with us: doctors offices, grocery store, restaurants. Normal service dog stuff, you know? But for some reason, everybody stares at her like it's the weirdest thing they've ever seen. A dog wearing a vest walking around Target... I use Target because Walmart is too controversial. Walmart: EVIL!! Target: fair game. Walmart: Trump Target:...any other president. Anyways: dog wearing a vest walking around Target, a vest that blatantly say "SERVICE DOG" on it mind you and random people like to just walks up to us as we and the dog are minding our own business and ask "Is she a service dog?" *Stares bewildered* and every time I'm thinking in my head "I DON'T KNOW, WHY DON'T YOU ASK HER VEST!"..."no, no ma'am we just slapped a service dog vest on her so she can go everywhere with us. Thank you for asking. Goodbye. Have a nice day." Another thing about this dog, I love her to death I really do. It's fun we have a young dog in the house again, she loves to play with anything that squeaks or makes a weird noise, I'm getting exercise again! Yay! But my mother takes it to a WHOLE 'NOTHER LEVEL!! We'll out shopping...*whispers* at Target...and we'll walk past the dog section... I'm trying to walk past as fast as possible. My mom stops right at the mouth of the aisle and walks down it. Shit, I know how this goes. My mom and her dog happily trot down the aisle and her dog smells all of the toy until eventually she smells a toy for more than three seconds...my mom is ready. She talks in that annoying baby voice, you know the voice right? *in an annoying baby voice* "Do you like that toy? Yeah! You like that toy? You want that toy? I'm gonna get you that toy!" SHIT. Toy goes in the cart...We end up leaving the store with more dog treats and a goddamn dog toy. Ever. Single. Time. And I'm over here thinking, if I got a toy every time we left the house as a child, I would have more toys than my tiny, little, ADD-riddled brain could handle. Now a days I'm a old 24 years old. If you don't know what that means, it means I'm mentally 24 years old and physically 80 years old. I'll be walking around the house like this *walks around like an old lady holding my back* and my mom will be looking at me and ask "what the hell are you doing?" And I'll yell back to her "what does it look like? My back hurts!!" I look outside "Get the hell of my lawn, you mangy kids!!" Anyways that obviously means I am a young millennial, which basically means that I remember when Netflix was delivered to your front porch and when Blockbuster was a thing. Also, I was told I needed to go to college or I wouldn't amount to anything. Jokes on them, I still didn't amount to anything. I got a Bachelors in Individualized Studies which means I was indecisive about my major and when I graduated I got a piece of paper basically thanking me for my participation. After 5 years of college, I got a piece of paper thanking me for participating in college. Think about that. This is what happened, I was originally going to school to become a teacher, but to become a teacher you must first waste your time taking a bunch of bullshit teaching classes like "How to teach Math" and then after about 3 years you have to submit a portfolio answering questions such as "Why do you want to become a teacher?" Maybe because I need a job and I was told the only way to get one that pays well was to go to college and I like kids sometimes and I took a course in school where I was basically a teachers assistant for 2 credits a semester and this seemed like the easiest job to get at the rip old age of 18. WRONG!! I was so very wrong!! What my teachers and professors failed to tell me was that to even get accepted into my colleges teaching program is not only do we have to answer the portfolio questions is: you have to pass 2 tests. This is what the TAKS tests were really preparing me for. One test was on Math. At this point, I have not done basic Mathematics in 2 years. The other test was on English and Grammar. I have barely passed my English courses with C's my entire life. The cards were not in my favor. You get approximately 60 minutes to finish each test. They take you into this office and you get a little locker and a key in exchange for your Drivers License. You are expected to place your phone and your purse or bag in the locker. They then place you in a separate room with desks with computer lined up against the wall. And at the opposite end of the room, smack in the center is a person that is paid to sit there and make sure you don't cheat. That is their only job, to sit there and stare at you like this *stares around room* am I making you nervous? *whispers* good. Because that is exactly how I felt the entire 60 minutes. And the thing is they don't even give you scratch paper for the math portion, just a TI-84 calculator. You know the ones that cost like 250 dollars and were fucking MANDATORY in middle school? Little secret about those calculators, they have 4 games on them. Yup. Found that out really quick. I used to sit in class on my calculator and the teachers would be none the wiser as I played the same game on my expensive calculator for the whole hour. I still play on it to this day. Anywho, no scratch paper, just an expensive calculator that I can play games on but forgot how to graph on. And I don't know about you guys, but I can't do math in my head like some people, I'm not wired that way. So, I had to go up to the creepy guy paid to stare at us and ask him for scratch paper. At one point I got so involved in solving a problem that I kept getting answers that were not multiple choice options, that I ran out of time and automatic failed 8 out of about 50 questions. A month later I found out that I somehow managed to get a B on a test I didn't finish. *whispers* I'll take it. So, the first time I turned in my portfolio, I had the tests scores that they were looking for but not the detailed answers to their profound questions. I obviously did not get into the teaching education program the first time. A year later I was allowed to turn in my portfolio again. This time I got smart, I made my sister proofread and rewrite my answers for the incentive of 100 dollars of my financial aid. *whispers* I got in. Now at this point, you're probably wondering why I told you all of this and why I don't have a Bachelors in Early Childhood Education like I intended after I went through the torture of 5 years of college and my acceptance into the TEP and the answer to that is, I showed up to the TEP orientation to be told that I had to take 2 more years of teaching courses and at that point I had been in college for nearly 5 years and I was like "There is no way in Hell that I was going to graduate after nearly 7 years of college just to teach children how to count and what the primary colors are." That was probably my biggest mistake in life. Just FYI, all of your childhoods are a lie. Red and Blue are not Primary colors. Cyan, Magenta, and Yellow are the true Primary colors according to the art wheel. To those of you that don't know Cyan can also be called Sky Blue and Magenta is a bright shade of Pink. We good? Good. The definition of a Primary color is a color that cannot be made by combining any two colors. They just exist in the world as is. Still good? Okay. Blue and Red by definition are not Primary colors because they can be made by combining two colors. Blue can be made by combining Cyan and Magenta. Red by combining Yellow and Magenta. They are by definition Secondary colors, colors that can be made by combining two primary colors. Look at that, you came out to have a good time and I tricked you into learning something, I am a teacher. I'm just kidding, I'm lying I didn't always know that. I always thought the Primary colors were Blue, Red, and Yellow just like all of you. I learned that how everyone learns things nowadays, YouTube. Anyways, moving on. The other day I couldn't sleep to save my soul, I had insomnia. And I noticed the weird way that I lay in my bed. It looks a little something like this. *walks over to a pillow and Petunia laying in the middle of the floor* One moment I'll be laying like this *places right foot on side of left knee* You think that ones weird wait until you see the next one. Next minute I'll turn over and be laying like this *place left foot on top of right knee* and then I'll turn over again and do this *pull legs up closer to my body and place them slightly apart* I don't know what this one is, it's like when Deadpool got ripped in half by Juggernaut in Deadpool 2, sorry spoilers. And his lower half has to regrow and he's standing there in front of the remainder of X-Force and Cable but his legs are that of a toddler. That's what this looks like to me, a grown ass person with baby legs trying to run away from something. And then I'll turn over AGAIN and do this *lays almost on front and places left foot of the side of right knee* know this one , this ones not even a sleep position, this is the fucking tree pose from my beginners yoga class. *Stands up and does the tree pose placing both palms together.* Just *hums yoga hum*. That's what that is right there. Haha. I got so bored one morning around 6 o'clock that I decided to clean the mess that was my closet. I had shoes thrown all over the floor of the closet and smack in the middle was a laundry basket that had all the clothes I had ever worn in 3 months. I opened the doors up *pretends to open doors* and I just screamed *screams* and then promptly fainted. Right in front of my closet. That is how messy it was. And the ironic part is that I have OCD. That mess was too much for my tiny, little OCD-riddled brain could handle at 6 in the morning. Which was ironic considering the fact that I had been living with it for 3 months and my OCD didn't seem to mind. But the minute my brain decided it wanted to clean that mess, suddenly my brain was overwhelmed. It took me approximately 2 hours to clean out the junk filled drawers in my dresser and put all of my spring/summer clothes away. Some of you probably noticed I said spring/summer clothes, that is because my autumn/winter clothes do not fit in my room anywhere. So they lay in a tote, a room away, until the temperature starts to drop, and then I would change them out. Men you don't realize this but every girl you know has more clothes than she can count, and some of those clothes, *whispers* she don't even wear. I have a half a closet full of skater dresses, that I wear once in a goddamn blue moon, just because I wanted to feel pretty that day. Interesting thing about switching clothes out, it's not even a new thing. Back in the 19-whatever's girls and women would have a hope chest that was filled with dresses for the spring/summer time when it was autumn/winter outside, and vise versa when it was spring/summer outside. I learned that story from my beautiful mother over there, because one day I pointed to her mothers hope chest and asked what it was used for. Interesting fact about me and my grandmother is that if you look at pictures of her when she was around the age of 13 sitting at the pool, my 13 year old self looked exactly like her, facial expression and all. My grandma unfortunately died of Breast Cancer 5 years after giving birth to my mother, her only surviving biological child. I say "biological child" because after my grandma had so many miscarriages and stillborns, she and my grandpa gave up and went to purchase a child *whipers* from Target. Haha. I'm just kidding, everyone knows that babies come from heaven and that storks carry them down in their beaks to a random families' front porch and leave the baby there to get stepped one when the Husband or Wife goes to check the mail. Probably the Wife, husbands are useless at running errands. You tell a man to go to the store to get 5 items and he comes back with 1 maybe 2 of the items that you had purposely written down on his arm so that he would remember everything. Do women have to do everything? Even figure out what's wrong with our own cars because we've been asking you to do it for 2 months and you keep saying "I'll take a look at it as soon as I have time." "As soon as you have time, bitch? That's right now!! You're sitting on the couch watching goddamned football and drinking beer. Guess what either you can record or pause your game for 15 to 30 minutes or you can sit there watching it and not have anything to eat for dinner, because I was so busy doing your "job", that I forgot to do my "job"." I put quotations around job because I don't understand why the cooking and the cleaning and the children-taking-care of has to be done solely by the woman and why yard work and fixing cars and sitting-on-there-all-day-watching-the-game-while pretending-to-take-care-of-the-children has to be done solely by a man. I don't work like that. Everyone can do any household job. For example, I have broken the side mirror of my moms car 2 times now. Do you think I was just like "Oh, well, I don't know how to fix a mirror I'll have to take it to Chris to get it fixed." Just FYI, Chris is a real person, he's my mechanic for things that I can't fix on my own. Hey, Chris! I didn't just give up, I did what every person in my generation do, I turned to YouTube and typed into the search bar "How to change the side mirror of a 2005 Ford Focus" *ding* Millions of videos pop up. I click on one, I watch it, I now know the basics for how to change a side mirror on a car, I took me exactly 5 minutes to learn it. How long did it take you Chris? Since then I have now replaced 3 of my mothers side mirrors. One on the drivers side that she did, and two on the passenger side that I did pulling in and out of the garage. Both times. YouTube has gotten ridiculous. Remember way back when when it was filled with music videos and people would post videos of them singing along to the songs. Nowadays, you can search anything on YouTube and find a video on it. For example type in "how to get mangy kids off my lawn" and you will most likely find a ridiculous video on how to keep children and dogs off your lawn. I love YouTube, I watch a lot of gaming videos, some Youtubers that I watch are Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, the GameGrumps (creators of the fabulous game DreamDaddy), The Fine Brothers or FBE, Graveyardgirl or Bunny, and Good Mythical Morning with Rhett and Link. Search any of these Youtubers and watch their videos, and you will not be disappointed. I love how there's a channel out there for any genre. Baking, Cooking, Make-up, Video Games, React Video, and ,my personal favorite, rant videos. Do you guys remember when Chris Crocker did the "Leave Britney Alone" video? He was ugly crying and I'm pretty sure wearing mascara and guy liner and he just keeps yelling into the camera for 30 seconds straight "LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!! LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!! YOU *points at person* LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE AND YOU *points at a different person* LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!!" And it just goes on like that for 30 seconds of a guy ugly crying over Britney fucking Spears. You thought girls where the best ugly criers, you were wrong, it's the gays. Gays overpower all girl powers by like a 100. A girl will be like "Look at my make up isn't it nice?" And a gay guy with jump out of nowhere add flawlessly apply FaceOff quality make up and be like "you look beautiful, do you like my sexy alien?". Anyways, I just love YouTube, I could watch YouTube video of people playing scary games that look interesting to me but I'm too scared to play *whispers * all day long.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Affairs of the Heart - Chapter 4

Note:  This is the first story in a planned series set in this universe under the umbrella ‘Hardy Investigations’.  Case suggestions are welcome, but it will be a long time to fruition if submitted!  This story is fully written, so they would be utilized in future stories.

Surprise!  Chapter’s being posted early.  The 5th (and final!) chapter will be posted on May 12th.

Many thanks to @stupidsatsuma for her beta’ing!  Y’all have NO IDEA how much she puts up with me, haha.

General warnings: mature content, occasional language.  (Canon[ish]) Cheating by secondary characters.

Masterlist

Summary

September 1948 - Mrs. Mark Latimer hires Hardy Investigations to find out if her husband is having an affair, requiring some duplicity and ingenuity to find the truth as they go undercover.

Alec pulled into the drive and put the car in park, leaving the engine running.

“Not coming in?”

He shook his head.  “No, I’ll go into the office and develop the pictures.  Better to know as soon as possible if they’re good enough, otherwise we need to regroup.”

“I’m sure they’re good enough,” Ellie scoffed.  “I saw far more of Mr. Latimer than anyone needs to.”

“Agreed,” he grimaced.  “There’s certainly no mistaking their relationship.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.  “I told you I ran into his wife on the beach the day after we took the case, didn’t I?  I can’t stop thinking about her little girl.  I don’t understand men who are willing to destroy their children’s lives for… for a bit of pleasure.”

Alec hummed in consideration.  “To be fair, that particular act she was performing is more than a ‘bit’ of pleasure.  Objectively speaking, of course.”

Ellie raised her head to scowl at him.  “He’s a married man,” she said firmly. “I don’t care.  If your wife’s not giving you what you want, perhaps there’s a reason and there’s something she needs from you first.  Sort that out, instead of breaking her heart and humiliating her.”

“I know.”  He draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer and kissing the side of her head.  “I don’t understand it either.”

“Did Tess know?”

Alec tensed.  “Did she know what?”

“That you knew about her affair.”

He let out a heavy breath, staring out the windshield at the garage.  “No.  By then… by the time she moved to London for the war effort, our marriage was essentially over.  I don’t think she had anyone in Sandbrook, but honestly I don’t know.  We were living separate lives.  Even when she’d come to visit Daisy… she had her secrets because of her work, and I had mine.  I saw�� no point in confronting her.  If he made her happy, whoever he was, well… good.  She deserved a bright spot.”

Ellie turned her head, pressing her lips to his jaw as they sat in silence.

“What about Joe?”

“What about Joe?”

Alec huffed.  “Did he know you knew?”

“No.  And I’m not sure it would have mattered.”  She paused to breathe in his scent.  After a long day working, all of the products he used had faded away to leave behind just him, and it was more intoxicating than the bottle of wine they’d shared at dinner.  “Sure you don’t want to just develop them tomorrow?”

Alec shifted, cupping her cheek with his hand and rubbing his thumb along the apple.  “El…”

Fisting his shirt she pulled him to her, their mouths meeting in the middle.  Lips and tongues moved against each other, neither giving an inch.  Ellie was half in his lap, his hand between her knees, when the light over the front door flickered deliberately.

“Shit,” she gasped, wrenching away from him to pant, not missing how his gaze flickered to her heaving chest.  “I suppose I should…”

“Mhmm.”  Alec kissed her again, making her whine when he pulled back.  “Or you could just come to the office with me and we can sleep once the pictures are done.”

“No, no, no,” she shook her head, curls bouncing.  “I know how that goes.  We shag on the carpet in front of the doors, pass out on the couch under a blanket, and wake five minutes before the first appointment of the day.  No pictures get developed, and one of us has terrible rug burn for the next forty-eight hours.  No.”

“Actually, I was just going to press you against the sliding doors and lift your skirt,” he teased, lightly scraping his nails along the inside of her thigh.

Ellie threw her head back, laughing.  “And who’s cleaning those smudges?  Certainly not something we’d want clients seeing.  Remember the time we forgot you had the exterior painted, and had to convince the police it must have been teenagers who left the imprint?  I couldn’t look Craig in the eye for a month after that!”

“That was a bloody brilliant birthday.”  Alec smirked, eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight.  “One for the history books.”

“Stop it.”  She swatted at him, relaxing against the door at her back.  “You’re shameless.”

His fingers wormed their way further up between her thighs, rubbing lightly once they found her knickers.  “You know you want to.”

Ellie kissed him, sucking deliberately at his tongue until he was fully hard beneath her, his hips rocking up against her.  Pulling back, she took in the image he made, head thrown back in pleasure as he panted, eyes squeezed shut.

“Good night, darling.”

He protested as she wriggled free of his grasp, almost falling out of the car as she straightened her skirt.  “Ellie!”

Fetching her purse and settling it over her arm, she checked her reflection in the side mirror before moving around the outside of the car, stopping at his window as he rolled the glass down.  “You have work to do, and don’t need me distracting you.  I need my beauty sleep, and to see the kids off in the morning.  Heaven knows Dad won’t.”

“You’re a tease,” he accused, beckoning her down for a kiss.  “Leaving me like this.”

She pecked his lips, smiling against them.  “Be good and do your work, and maybe if you’re lucky I’ll be able to find time to fall to my knees and beg forgiveness.”

Alec buried one hand in her hair, plundering her mouth for long moments before whispering, “We both know you won’t be the one begging.”

“As it should be.  Good night.”

“Good night, my love.”

She reluctantly freed herself from his grasp, glancing over her shoulder several times on her trek to the front door.  Pausing, one hand on the doorknob, she turned to see him watching her.  Blowing him a kiss she let herself in, humming all the way up to her bedroom.

Ellie let herself into the office early the next morning, smiling to herself when she found Alec fast asleep on the couch, glasses askew and pictures falling out of an open folder.  Easing the door shut she left the curtain open, setting her things by the desk and starting the kettle.

He still wasn’t awake by the time the tea was ready, and she crouched down in front of him, watching him sleep.  He looked so peaceful, at rest, she hated to disturb him even as she combed her fingers gently through his hair.  Alec was a good man, a kind man, one of whom life had taken advantage.  As a result he kept himself hidden behind a brusque exterior, letting few people in.

She was proud to be one of those few.

“Mhmm.”  Stirring, his eyes opened for only a moment before fluttering shut, face turning to press against her palm.  “Hi.”

“Hi.”  She shivered at his gravelly burr; first thing in the morning was when his accent was deepest, and it never failed to arouse her.  “Sleep well?”

Alec yawned, nodding slightly.  “Aye, I suppose.  Would’ve been better with you next to me.”

Ellie leaned forward, kissing him gently.  Their mouths met once, twice, three times, before he freed his arm from the blanket and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her across his body.

“Oh, hello,” she laughed, landing on top of him as the kiss broke, moving until she was between him and the back of the sofa.

He didn’t reply, merely shifting her more under him as he kissed her with intent.  She complied easily enough, letting his hands roam and getting lost in his touch and kiss.  The effect he had on her had yet to diminish after three years, and she hoped it never would even as she remembered their first appointment was due in an hour.

“Alec,” she whispered, breaking the kiss, and he merely grunted in response, lips moving to the curve of her neck as he hitched her thigh around his hips.  “Love, Mrs. Evans’ll be here in an hour.”

“I can work with that.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled her hands against his chest but couldn’t quite bring herself to push him away.  “Is the official report finished?  Have you developed the Latimer photographs?”

“Aye, to both.  Now shush, or I’ll find a better use for your mouth,” Alec rasped, rocking his hips against hers.

“You’re such a charmer.  Who could say no to that?” she asked rhetorically, even as she surrendered and reached for his trouser zip.

After all, this was why she’d woken him in the first place.

Mrs. Latimer was due at half two, and Ellie fussed around straightening up as they waited.  Their offices were really a sea-side house, halfway up the hill to the cliffs just south of Broadchurch.  It was a quaint little building, with the sitting room where they held most meetings overlooking the ocean.  Sliding glass doors separated them from the water, providing a gorgeous view that she loved and he hated.

The kitchen was just off the sitting room, empty but for tea-making supplies, biscuits, and other miscellaneous items so they didn’t starve during the day.  A curtain cut off the two rooms from the rest of the bungalow, behind which was the loo and two bedrooms.  One was set up as a private office, containing the safe with all of their paperwork and valuable tools.  The other functioned as a bedroom, ready in case a client or friend needed somewhere to stay, though usually used by them for an afternoon delight between meetings.

Ellie tidied the room just in case Mrs. Latimer couldn’t face going home, changing out the sheets and throwing open the windows, letting it air out.

“El!” Alec called, and giving the pillows a final plump, she hurried back to the sitting room.

“Yes?”

He was standing in front of the mirror over the couch, scowling at his reflection.  An undone tie hung around his neck, and he turned to her as she entered.  “I can’t get this bloody thing to cooperate.  Can you?”

Laughing softly she stepped up against him, unsurprised when his hands flew to her hips.  Adjusting the fabric around his neck, she began to tie it with confidence. “I must say, you’ve been fairly randy lately.  Not to complain, quite the opposite, just… surprising.”

Alec shrugged his shoulders, fingers squeezing at her hips.  “Business is going well, and you become more beautiful every day.”

“Oh do I?”

“You’re happy,” he said simply.  “Despite your father’s… existence in our lives, otherwise, you’re happy.  It shows.  You care about our work as much as I do, and you’ve relaxed into life here.  When we first arrived you were tense and anxious, and I know we both worried the war wasn’t truly over, but it’s been three years.  This is home now.”

Ellie’s lips twitched, resting her hands on his chest as she looked up at him.  “You consider Broadchurch home?  Have I hit my head?  Is this a dream?”

“I consider you home.  Scotland, London, BP… makes no difference.”

“I love you too.”  Rising up on tiptoe she kissed him sweetly, teasing him by drawing her tongue across his lips but backing away when he opened them.  “Now, be professional, darling.  A client is due.”

No sooner had she stepped away than the tiny bell by the back door rang; it was their alarm that someone had opened the gate at the foot of the hill and was starting up the path to the house.  Giving him a superior smile, she sidetracked to the kitchen to start the kettle before going to the sliding doors.

Mrs. Latimer met her there on the other side, giving her a weak smile as Ellie opened the door.  “Hello.  Apologies if I’m late, I had to wait for my daughter to return home to watch the younger two.”

“Not at all, not at all, perfectly on time,” Ellie assured her, guiding her in to sit on the couch.  “Tea’ll be ready in just a moment, make I take your coat?”

Alec appeared from behind the curtain then, holding the Latimer case file; he liked to make an entrance after the client was seated, not wanting to appear as though he’d been waiting.  A busy agency is more likely to get business, Ellie, because if you can meet the client’s needs immediately, they’ll wonder why.

“Mrs. Latimer, thank you for joining us,” he said brusquely, settling into his armchair across from her.  “We have concluded our investigation.  Is there anything you’d like to say or feel we should know before we continue?”

“Um, no?”  Mrs. Latimer looked to Ellie in concern as she handed the woman her tea.

Ellie settled beside her, smiling reassuringly.  “That’s all right, it’s just that sometimes at the moment of truth people decide they’d rather not know.  If so, now’s the time to say.”

Mrs. Latimer stared down into her teacup, visibly pulling herself together before looking up at Alec and nodding.  “Tell me.”

“Yes,” he said simply, “I’m sorry to report that beyond a shadow of a doubt, your husband is having an affair.”

They remained silent as Mrs. Latimer’s eyes slid shut, head hanging.  Ellie’s heart went out to her; she remembered that moment, when she knew for certain that Joe was having an affair while purportedly working in London as a medic.  Mrs. Latimer was taking it much better than she had; she’d trashed Alec’s office, though he’d been ‘Mr. Hardy’ to her then.  Then she’d broken down in tears, huddled in the far corner as he crouched in front of her, helpless.

Ironically, that was the day they’d become friends.

Mrs. Latimer didn’t cry; she didn’t scream, or sob, or break down, though Ellie suspected that would come in time.  She went numb, eyes dead as she finally met Alec’s gaze again.

“Who is she?”

Alec handed her a picture of Becca; it was a solitary shot, nothing scandalous, but a clear profile.

Mrs. Latimer took it with trembling hands, eyes widening after a long moment.  “This is Becca Fisher.”

“Pardon?”

“Becca Fisher, she runs Traders,” she repeated, hand coming up to cover her mouth.  “Someone from the hotel calls once, twice a week about a leak.  I thought the building was just finally done for, but it’s not, is it?  It’s a fake, so he can go there and fuck her!”

Ellie winced, exchanging glances with Alec.  They’d expected her not to know the woman; this was a complication.  Once she left Alec would have to call Craig, his contact on the police force, and warn him.  “I understand you're hurt,” she said carefully, “I do, truly, but you can’t let this define you.”

“I’m leaving him,” Mrs. Latimer said quietly, still staring at the picture.  “I don’t care what shame it brings me, or what my children think – but I cannot spend one more night sharing a bed with that man.”

“I understand,” Ellie repeated.  “If you’d prefer, once you have a divorce lawyer we can forward the evidence we obtained directly to him.  We also have some recommendations if you’d like, though you would be under no obligation.”

“Can I have a moment?” Mrs. Latimer sniffled, staring down at the picture.  “And I’d… I would like to see the others.”

After a moment Alec nodded, passing over the closed folder.  The risk was minimal; he already had two separate copies developed and stored elsewhere, with the negatives somewhere safe.

“We’ll be in the kitchen.”

Ellie slid the door almost entirely closed, sighing heavily as she stepped forward into Alec’s arms.  “This is the part I hate.”

“I know.”  He pressed his lips to her forehead, holding her tightly against him.  “Me as well.  It never gets easier, delivering this blow.  Though I suspect no one will beat your reaction.”

“I said I was sorry,” she grumbled, “and you’re the one who told me where you did.  Should’ve taken me to an empty room or something.”

“How was I supposed to know you’d trash the place?” he protested, squeezing her.  “I’d never seen such rage or fire in you before that.  All I’d known was meek Mrs. Miller, with naught but a kind word and smile for all she met.  I had no idea of the woman hiding beneath that.”

“Flatterer.”  Ellie pulled back with a smile, shaking her head.  “And yet you fell in love with me anyway.”

“Aye.  I’ve always been a bit of an idiot, though, to be fair.”

She snickered, before an odd sound from the other room caught her attention.  “What was that?”

“What?”

They separated, and Ellie slid open the door to reveal an empty sitting room, the sliding glass door leading outside wide open, the sea breeze ruffling the curtains.

“Aw, shit.”

[skeletonscribbles]

I'M SO GREEDY, I WANNA REQUEST SO MANY. Reddie #11, or #9. Whichever you prefer. :D

I will fill ANY request for you, my beautiful friend. You’re never greedy - just say the word.

I got another request for #9, so this one is straight #11 - “you owe me a kiss” ;)(the rest of the prompts are here in case anyone is wondering/has a request)

I call her: not just a river in egypt…and here she is

I’m not like that.

Those four words had become the mantra of Richie Tozier’s high school experience.

I’m not like that.

His parents wanted him to go to college. Wentworth was specifically interested - seemed to think that Richie was similar enough to him that dentistry was on the table as a potential career option for his son.

Dentistry was NOT on the table - or in the kitchen, or even in the basement of Richie’s mind. No career was, really. All he wanted to do was tell jokes and listen to the radio. There wasn’t a major for that, or even a school, in spite of the fact that his grades were pretty uniformly excellent.

I’m not like that.

Even shittier than Went’s dentistry bid was the fact that because he was decent at school, his teachers kept trying to nominate him for stuff, or pull him aside and lecture him on his potential. Mrs. Campanella, his English language and literature teacher, told him that his essays were good enough to submit for scholarships or other prizes, and Mr. Browne, his chemistry teacher, wanted him to join the track team to get him to, quote unquote, let some excess energy out instead of bringing it all to class. Richie had thanked Mr. Browne, given him two middle fingers, and then skipped his class for the next week and a half. He still had a 96 average for the quarter, and a 98 for the year.

I’m not like that.

Finally, and maybe most importantly, there was the tiny, miniscule, all-encompassing matter of his love-life.

Well, actually, it was more of a “lack thereof” situation. Richie hadn’t had a crush on a girl since the middle of ninth-grade, and it was freaking him the fuck out.

For the first four months of his high school existence, he’d been completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with Brenda Arrowsmith. She was the sun, the moon, the stars, and most notably, the girl in their grade whose tits had developed first. It was only natural that Richie’s feelings would follow.

After the six-thousandth time that Brenda rejected his attempts to talk to her in the hallways before school (or at lunch, or in study hall), though, he figured that the tits weren’t worth it. He didn’t really know her anyway, he reasoned. She was probably a bitch, or she didn’t brush her teeth…or both, or some other gross thing, who was to say. It took him a couple of months, but by February, he was good and over Brenda - and if he still stopped to check her out every once in a while, it was out of artistic appreciation, nothing more.

After that, he’d elected to spend most of his time with his friends, because he knew them, he loved them, and they were more than enough to occupy his interest until (he figured) the next girl came along.

He hadn’t banked on the next girl taking so long. It was more than two years later now, and the fabled next girl still had yet to show. It was enough to make any man a little desperate, and Richie was no exception to that rule - his poor hormones were being neglected entirely.

It stood to reason, then, that the current confusion was probably hormonal payback for the last two years of dry spell. (That was what Richie was adamantly trying to tell himself, anyway.)

It was late June, and junior year had just wrapped up. The Losers had long since completed their second-to-last school supply dumping, complete with a run-in with Belch Huggins, and had moved on to their usual summer routines: either crashing at the Hanscoms’, cruising through downtown Derry and complaining about having nothing to do, or laying out in the sunshine at the quarry. Today had been a long day of quarry-ing, and Richie knew for a fact that he was sunburnt as shit. His body was already starting that hot-cold weirdness that happened whenever he forgot to reapply sunscreen at least eight times.

He’d been a little too distracted to care about his skin.

They’d all been swimming in their underwear for years - since they were kids, they’d foregone bathing suits in favor of whatever it was they had under their clothes at the time. It used to be a matter of not knowing when they were going to make the trek down to the quarry, but now it was a collective courtesy to Ben, whose mother couldn’t afford to get him a suit that fit. They never talked about it, they just dutifully peeled off their clothes whenever they were headed for the water.

Richie had looked idly down the row of his friends before they launched themselves over the cliff, expecting the same boring mix of solid colored boxers and briefs, but had instead been hit straight-on with a startling sight, which cued up a startling remembrance.

Eddie’s mom didn’t know what size he was anymore.

Eddie had never been allowed to shop for his own clothes, and wouldn’t, ever, so long as he lived in Sonia’s house. The poor boy had been pleading with Richie to consider going to college with him for almost the entirety of junior year, because he desperately needed to escape from under his mother’s thumb and he didn’t want to do it alone. “Please, Rich,” he’d begged, “she doesn’t even know that I’ve grown three inches up and one out this year, and now all my pants are too small…”

He was right about that, and Richie had spent the last few months teasing him about seeing his ankles…but now that it was evident that Eddie’s pants weren’t the only articles of clothing that were too small on him, Richie, for once in his life, had no joke for the situation. Eddie’s briefs were tight - the waistband was cinched almost uncomfortably around his stomach, and the rest left very little to the imagination. It was nothing Richie hadn’t seen before, but for some reason, he couldn’t tear his eyes from where the faded fabric was stretched taut against….against….

No. No way. He wasn’t LIKE that.

Before he had time to thoroughly beat himself up for the thoughts he was having, he’d been shoved into the water by the quick hands of Stanley Uris, who tacked on a “Think fast!” about thirty seconds too late. The cold water did nothing to shock Richie out of his dilemma, and when he surfaced, spluttering, he’d felt a little bit like he was still drowning…only, different.

The rest of the day had been full of similar little moments - Eddie in the sunshine, glowing in the light, Eddie laughing at something Mike said (why Mike and not ME, Richie’s traitorous brain screamed), the softness of Eddie’s voice when he gently reminded Richie to reapply sunscreen on his shoulders, the care that Eddie took with each of his friends.

I’m not like that, I’m not like that, I’m not LIKE that–

“Richie?” Ben was standing over him, frowning at his shoulders with obvious concern. “You okay? You’ve been quiet…and I don’t know if anyone told you, but you’re starting to–”

“Beyond starting to burn, Benny boy,” Richie confirmed miserably. “Gonna be a regular Maine steamed lobster for the next few days. I’ll be by in the morning to wrap myself in blankets and hide myself on your couch while the rest of you watch An Officer and a Gentleman a-fucking-gain…”

“Bev’s coming, you ass,” Ben reminded him, nudging him a little with his foot. “She hasn’t seen it yet - and it’s one of my favorites.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Sap.”

“Don’t blame me for your lack of taste,” Ben tutted, shaking his head. “I asked if everything was okay.”

Ben punctuated his question by looking over at where Eddie was examining rocks with Bill, Mike, and Stan, and oh, fuck no. Sometimes Ben’s all-knowing attitude towards the relationship dynamics of their group was awesome…and sometimes it was actually the worst.

“I’m great,” Richie said loudly, glaring furiously up at Ben. “Hungry as fuck, though. I’ll kiss the next person that offers me a bite to eat, I swear to fucking–”

The corners of Ben’s mouth twisted up into a strange smile, and Richie was seized with cold fear. He had a feeling he knew what Ben was thinking about doing, and he almost couldn’t believe it. Such behavior was beneath Ben, surely - Stan or Bill would have done it without hesitation, but Ben wouldn’t betray him, right?

“Hey, Eddie,” Ben called, and Eddie looked up from his rocks, frowning over at Ben and Richie. “You packed snacks, right?”

“My mom shoved a bunch of Hostess food at me before I left the house, yeah,” Eddie confirmed. “Said she didn’t want it in the house any more. She’s all mad at herself because she binged a whole box of Ring Dings yesterday. Why, you hungry?”

Ben looked down at Richie, looking a little guilty, but mostly bemused, and Richie wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt so betrayed before in his life.

“I’ll kill you, Hanscom,” he whispered, eyes glued to Eddie as Eddie’s feet began to move in their direction.

“Not me,” Ben responded to Eddie, and then smiled and backed up a little bit. Eddie’s eyes flickered from Ben to Richie, and Richie could almost see the panic make its way across Eddie’s face like an ocean wave when he took in the condition of Richie’s chest and shoulders.

“Oh, Richie, you’re burnt! Here, I have lotion in my bag…and snacks, too, if you want. You like Twinkies, right?”

Eddie quickly grabbed his bag from off of his towel and began rifling through it, and Richie tried and failed to keep his eyes away from the flex of Eddie’s thighs as he bent over. Ben had disappeared, presumably while Richie’s eyes and mind were occupied by Eddie’s fussing, and Richie found himself kind of impressed with the whole situation in spite of himself. Ben was a lot more crafty than Richie had given him credit for, it seemed.

“Here.” Eddie finally located what he was looking for and tossed it at Richie’s feet. Richie picked up Eddie’s tub of aloe tenuously and opened it, swiping his fingers through the slimy substance and quietly smearing it along his collarbones. He ignored the Twinkies that Eddie had also tossed over entirely, even though his stomach was practically screaming for them.

“Thanks,” Richie said quietly, not looking at Eddie. He couldn’t look at Eddie any more today, because if he did, admissions would have to be made, and there was no fucking way that was going to happen. He wasn’t like that.

“Richie!” Stan and Bill were making their way back over, with Mike and Ben in tow. Richie had literally no idea what magic Ben had performed to teleport himself back there, but it didn’t matter now, because Richie had bigger things to contend with - namely, a very smug Stanley Uris, whose voice was dripping with glee as he asked, “Is it true that you told Ben you’d kiss the next person that fed you?”

Eddie’s sharp inhale was almost painfully audible, and Richie winced when he saw Eddie’s face turn an embarrassed red out of the corner of his eye.

“I couldn’t do that to Eds,” Richie said quickly, trying to sound more lighthearted than he was actually feeling. “He’d probably catch something from me, given that he tells me every day that I’m filthy and disease-riddled. Also, this mouth is the property of Sonia K., and I really couldn’t betray her like this - not with her own son…”

Eddie, surprisingly, didn’t try and stop Richie’s tirade or chastise Richie for being vulgar. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest slowly, taking a deep breath like he was trying to stabilize himself without his inhaler. Richie chanced a glance at Eddie’s face, and felt his heart stutter at the sight - the poor boy was clearly trying to bury a response, but his eyes betrayed him. They were glassy and squinted, almost as if….as if….

No. Eddie wasn’t like that either. Was he…?

“It’s time to go home, right?” Eddie asked suddenly, voice disarmingly shaky. “We should go? Stan, do you have–”

“Already on it,” Stan said quickly, looking surprisingly remorseful. He gave Mike a meaningful look, and Mike shook his head, raised his eyebrows at Richie, and then turned his attention back towards Stan.

“You get the bag, I’ll get the towels?”

“Sounds great,” said Stan, and the two of them went to collect belongings, with Eddie anxiously scuttling along after them.

Richie was left to be stared down by Bill and Ben, who were both looking at him like he’d embarrassed them. He’d been on the receiving end of this look a zillion times, but for whatever reason, this time felt different, and Richie found himself wanting to look away.

Bill seemed to speak for both of them when he said, “Grow up, Ruh-Richie.”

Richie didn’t respond, because he couldn’t. He couldn’t grow up. Growing up meant accepting responsibility for things, and there were certain things that he had absolutely no intention of coming to terms with.

“It’s okay,” Ben told him kindly.

It wasn’t okay. He wasn’t like that.

That said, the less they knew, the better things would be for him…so….

“Let’s go get dinner,” he said, effectively closing the conversation.

–

27 years later, Richie still had yet to take Bill’s advice.

Six out of seven of them were back in Derry for the Losers Club reunion that none of them actually wanted to attend. It was a different six than it had been that day in the quarry - they had Beverly, this time, and Stan had been lost along the wayside (Richie didn’t want to call it what it was yet; he wasn’t ready), but the energy was not at all dissimilar to that particular summer day in June.

Well, actually, the interdimensional demon part was putting something of a damper on things, but that being what it was, the vibe was close enough.

In fact, if Richie closed his eyes and let his imagination take over, it was all too easy to slip back into being sixteen again. The wind against the tall grass of the Barrens made a very specific sound, and that partnered with the bossy tirade that Bill was currently on gave the whole scenario an early 1990s vibe that was making Richie feel…nervous, for some reason.

No. Not just some reason. His heart wasn’t hammering outrageously against his chest for just some reason.

When he opened his eyes, Eddie Kaspbrak was looking back at him, and the familiar gaze was like an electric shock to Richie’s system.

Fuck. He’d spent his entire adult life trying to convince himself he was a certain way, and all it had taken Eddie to undo years and years’ worth of progress was a single glance.

I’m not like that.

No, no, no. He knew better than that now - knew better than to deny what was unmistakably there, at least to himself.

Out loud, however…well, the possibilities for what he could say out loud were endless.

“–split up,” Bill was saying, voice firmer and more confident than it had ever been in his youth. The stutter was mostly gone, now, and Bill claimed that it was completely gone outside of Derry. Richie looked forward to testing whether or not that was true after everything they had to do in Derry was said and done…if there was an after, anyway. (Again, Richie wasn’t much for dwelling on the nasty parts of things. He’d think about it later. Only actions in the now.) “Me and Mike, Ben and B-Bev, Richie and Eddie? Just to see. Report b-back in an hour.”

“Can do, boss,” Ben said, looking not-so-secretly thrilled to have a moment with Beverly, who was smiling over at him with undisguised fondness.

“Richie? Eddie?” Bill looked between the two of them, seemingly trying to assess the situation he’d created. “All right?”

Richie looked at Eddie in the sunlight - his hair was haloed in it to the point where it almost looked angelically blonde - and swallowed his fear as best he could.

“We’ll be good,” Richie promised, avoiding everyone’s eyes and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly, “that’ll probably work out just fine. What time do you want us back?”

“Two,” Bill repeated. “Good luck.” He turned on his heel and walked off after Mike, and Richie and Eddie were left alone together.

This was going to be absolutely unbearable. Richie was struck by a sudden memory - a conversation he’d had with Bill and Ben about growing up - and wished in that moment that he never had. He had been right - adulthood had provided him with realizations he didn’t want and accompanying responsibilities, and he wished he’d had the option to opt out of the whole thing. It didn’t seem worth it.

Better, he thought as Eddie walked towards him, all nerves and sharp angles and sweetness, to remain in that childhood denial than to face the reality of what lay thick in the air between the two of them.

“You ready to go, Spaghetti?” Richie asked, feeling the old name slip though his lips before he’d even really remembered it.

Eddie stared back at him, lips drawn into a tight line. “No nicknames.”

“No promises on that,” Richie said, not trusting himself to keep ‘Eds’ and ‘Spaghetti’ out of his mouth. “Any place in particular that you think is worth exploring?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “The quarry.”

That hadn’t been what Richie was expecting. He cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “You saw the demon thing at the quarry?”

“No, never,” Eddie said, finally allowing his face to relax - and was that the ghost of a smile threatening to make its way across his face? “That’s why I want to go.”

Richie’s loud laughter was surprising even to himself, but he found himself grateful for it as it overtook him. All of the nerves and craziness that had built up over the past few days were pouring out of him, and Eddie could feel it, too - after a moment, he joined Richie in laughing, and then neither of them could stop. It was the end of everything, and they were locked in hysterical laughter, too paralyzed by it to move.

Finally, Richie took a deep breath and collected himself. “I don’t know if I can go to the quarry. I don’t have sunscreen.”

“Yeah, you’ll burn in no time,” Eddie agreed, voice still wobbly from laughter. “Granted, it helps that you’re not in your underwear.”

“That can change,” Richie said, mouth too far ahead of his mind for him to come to terms with the implications of his taunt. In fact, he didn’t really realize exactly what he’d said until Eddie flushed crimson, and then the mood was back to the pre-laugh tension and fuck, he usually had a better handle on himself, didn’t he? What was it about Derry, Maine that broke all his filters?

Before he could apologize, though, Eddie pressed on. “Remember the summer before senior year?” he asked, threading his fingers together in a way that Richie vaguely remembered meant that he was nervous.

Richie swallowed hard. “I mean, not very well, what with the supernatural amnesia and all.”

“You’ll remember this day,” Eddie said, and Richie immediately knew the day that he was referring to - he’d been thinking about it ever since Mike had led them down towards this part of town. “It was a weird day for you. You were all in your own head, and you ignored all the times I told you to put sunscreen on so you got stupid burnt and had to stay inside for a week afterwards.”

Adolescent guilt and shame came flooding through Richie like a monsoon - all of the stupid feelings, all of the frantic denial was right there at the surface of his consciousness. Eddie had to be able to sense it - but he was showing no signs of being cued-in to Richie’s tangle of feelings. He just stood, tired and nervous and beautiful, and waited for Richie to respond.

“You gave me a Twinkie,” Richie finally offered, because it was all he could think of to say.

“You owe me a kiss,” Eddie replied quickly, as if afraid the words would dry up in his mouth if he didn’t get them out fast enough.

They stared at each other in terror for a few seconds, and it was enough to make Richie wonder if maybe this version of Eddie in front of him was actually the fucking clown, taking Eddie’s form to make Richie remember all of the ways that he was secretly weak.

“I didn’t think you wanted one,” he said carefully, watching Eddie’s face to gauge his reaction and hoping he wasn’t playing Russian roulette with his own life.

“I…” Eddie tried, screwing his eyes shut to try and put his thoughts together. “It’s not about what I want.” He pointed to his head, tapping at his temple. “It’s about what I want.” He then moved his hand down to rest right over his heart, and Richie felt that sunburn feeling again - hot and cold, all at once.

Richie stepped forward, staring down at the new lines of Eddie’s face and wanting desperately to memorize them all - to not forget that he was like this, that he was capable of this kind of love.

If this was the clown’s way of trapping him, then so be it. Richie would happily die for this.

“Are you ready?” Richie asked, and Eddie blinked once, twice, three times back up at him. He’d obviously not been sure as to whether or not Richie would seriously consider his offer.

“No,” Eddie said honestly. “But please do it anyway.”

Before he could change his mind, Richie closed the distance between himself and Eddie, took Eddie’s face in his hands, and captured his lips in a gentle kiss.

He understood now, 27 fucking years later, why he hadn’t crushed on girls in high school.

How could he have spared so much as a glance at anyone else when he’d had this right in front of him? Eddie’s soft lips, careful hands, fierce looks, and unwavering devotion were all that his brain had ever been tuned-in to. Brenda Arrowsmith and all the big-breasted women that followed had been nice to look at, of course, but this…

Eddie kissed him back after a quick moment, and Richie couldn’t help the soft noise that he made as Eddie’s hands slid up and into his hair.

“Your hair’s shorter, now,” Eddie murmured against Richie’s mouth, combing his fingers through the curly, salt-and-pepper ringlets around Richie’s ears. “That summer…I used to fantasize about having my hands in it, especially when it was wet down at the quarry–”

“Your underwear was too tight that summer,” Richie responded, pure relief flooding his system as the confession spilled out. “How was a boy supposed to think about anything else when Sonia K. was unknowingly providing him with wet dream material for the rest of his–”

“Wanted to rub that after-sun lotion all over your shoulders,” Eddie continued, punctuating his thoughts with kisses. “Your face, your chest, your legs…and I hated myself for it, because you were such an idiot, but I also kind of liked it, too, because…because–”

“I didn’t want to be….I didn’t want people to find out–”

“Me either! If my mother had known–”

“Didn’t want to be like that, to have another reason for people to be on my ass all the time–”

“Another reason that I was sick–”

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie pulled back a little further upon hearing Richie’s apology. He studied Richie’s face, eyes sweeping over the freckles on Richie’s cheeks and ears, and then smiled - the first genuine smile Richie had seen him give since 1994.

“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie said thoughtfully, hands still occupied with Richie’s curls. “We’re here.”

“We’re here,” Richie agreed, liking that the phrase erased both the past and the present - the mistakes they’d made as teens and the horror they were sure to face in the next few days. “We’re here.”

[dtkrippene]

Florida Sunset

Dan & Mother-in-Law

  It’s been a rough spring largely because I missed it. 

In December, we made a sudden decision to spend February through April in Florida. Our primary reason was to spend time with elderly mother-in-law in assisted living before she forgot who we were.  Secondary reason is spousal unit’s desire to skip winter in Pennsylvania. 

Who could blame her? It was a rough winter as well. My initial fear, however, is what would it do to the time I reserve for writing. I’d just come off a promise to the long-suffering muse in my head that I’d not neglect her; (click and read – The Silent Light of a Winter Night, December 2018).

Turned out, I wrote more than usual.  Cranked out 40K on the book I’m rewriting, and still had time to format and post blogs on our group’s GLVWG Write Stuff Conference™ blog about every three-four days that began in mid-January through the end of March. Lot of work, but something had to give.

Yep, bless me readers, but I haven’t blogged since February.  

During this rather busy period, I heard from an ex-colleague who used to follow humorous articles I wrote for a travel magazine overseas. Would I submit something for a quarterly newsletter they do?  More specifically, would I write about our first ever snowbird experience in the same voice as my former writing experience?  How could I turn down a fan from yesteryear?  It published a few weeks ago, and he’s given me permission to post it here.

The article is in a different voice from what I pen today, but as penance for not keeping up in blogosphere, I offer it below.  I hope you find it humorous, and perhaps it will brighten your day as well.

  ***********************************************

Snowbirding

  Graphic From: Sarah Barendse – Creative Services

Never thought I’d be a Snowbird, defined as those who abandon the bitter winters of Northern America for sunnier climes in Florida. I like the change of seasons and don’t mind shoveling the times Nature dumps solidified water on my driveway. It’s also my most productive season as a writer, when I don’t have to answer the WYWA (Worldwide Yard Wrestling Association), or involuntarily submit to projects assigned by my wife.

It was an impulsive decision, sparked by a need to spend more time with my 90-year-old mother-in-law in an assisted living facility in Naples. Wheelchair bound, she’d weakened the past year after her husband passed-away in 2017. My bro-in-law knows everybody in the South Florida boating industry, and he found a place in Ft. Myers beginning February if we were willing to take it for three months.

Three months? What the heck do I do for three months in a territory commonly known as “God’s Waiting Room”. 

We left early February in bone-cracking, five-degree temperatures. We hit a blizzard outside of Harrisburg. When we stopped for the night at my sister’s in North Carolina, the car had a veneer of crusted salt. CNN breaking news repeatedly looped a federal indictment against Punxsutawney Phil for fraud. 

The place we rented is in a sizeable community built in the 80’s, advertised as; “riverfront splendor and boasts an 18-hole executive golf course, 13 lighted tennis courts, competition-sized swimming pool, 18 stocked lakes to fish, landscaped paths plus a private harbor and marina.” We arrived late afternoon, just in time to meet residents bearing Pyrex dishes who invited us to join them for the weekly poolside soirée. I noted my pallid skin was a lighthouse among the well-bronzed cocktail drinkers. The only tan on my body were skin moles. We took a rain check and went to an onsite restaurant, where the drinks were stiff, and a brisket burger happily spackled my arteries. The check arrived with “what’s your member number?”  I gave the server our condo unit, 205. Next day, we learned every unit had a 205. Red-faced apologies offered, it didn’t seem like a very good start.

We ventured out on Ft. Myers famous Route 41, Tamiami Trail, to shop for victuals. It was a pinball rally of elderly drivers in luxury cars cruising the left lane at ten-mph under the speed limit, versus millennials who weaved traffic at twenty-mph over the limit in monster pickups with thunderous mufflers and earsplitting hip-hop. Observation through the rear window of older drivers often revealed a pair of headless hands on the steering wheel. A 70’s song lyric came to mind amid this chaos – “clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you”. 

The wakeup call came promptly at six with the greens keeper in a misfiring two-cycle tractor engine and headlights the brilliance of a supernova. The condo’s heated pool acted as a morning meeting place for women’s water aerobics to discuss the latest gossip, much of it centered on husbands.  Though I shellacked myself with lotion, by noon, the intense southern sun left an alabaster imprint on my belly of a Kindle reader framed by painful crimson. Following day, all I could do while clothed in full body cover-up was to wait for the afternoon shift when residents arrived for mid-afternoon adult beverages and lies about their golf score. Cocktails start early in sun country. Be prepared to have your ‘check liver light’ activate with regularity.

Our condo is advertised as a community of ‘active seniors.’ Where women outnumber the men by at least two-to-one, I hoped the definition of active meant outdoor activities.  USPTA regulation tennis and Pickle Ball, a kind of a mini tennis game with paddled wiffle balls for those who failed at tennis, are quite popular. I assume Pickle got its name from the usual state the players were in. The tight knit 3,078-yard golf course has nine lakes (drainage pits), and forty-five sand traps (yawning sink holes), which came with the frequent shout of fore and resultant whack against building walls. A sign by the pool warned to be observant of stray balls. Nothing like a nice float and the risk of concussion. Our second floor patio gave us a referee’s vantage on the seventh-hole ladies tee-box, where we had front row seats to deep-divot, shagged shots, followed by un-ladylike potty-mouthed epithets. And to think many of them were grandmothers.

Every Wednesday, our village decorated the poolside veranda for the weekly BYOB get-together at five-o-clock.  Attendance required a snack to share, which turned out to be a full potluck buffet. People lined up at 4:30 to get their pick of the best. My chicken tikka sat virtually untouched on a table groaning with meatballs, deviled eggs, vegie tray, ambrosia salad, and vegan pizza. Lesson learned, traditional American flavors are favored. A couple at our table advised we start with the dessert offerings while others queued for the buffet. All manner of sweet confections had defined our generation. I’m now officially pre-diabetic.

The reason we came was to spend time with Ann’s mother; our intent to get her out of the cloistered spaces of her otherwise excellent care facility. No one warned us about going to restaurants during Florida high season. The older generation eats early. All others know to wait until at least 6:00. We went to a wine bar in Naples that advertised jazz. Handicap parking occupied the entire front half and nary a slot available. I damn near needed a GPS to find my way back from a lower-forty lot of cars parked haphazardly at crooked angles. Zigzagging with a wheelchair around bodies and crowded tables, the shortest distance to our table was by way of Orlando. Younger folk congregated the bar with raucous laughter. The older table troops dined in groups of six or more – with more raucous laughter. Intimate conversations nearby were shouted, some of which I wished had been left unsaid. The jazz turned out to be a crooner in a fedora hat singing Frank Sinatra hits. Ann’s mother loved it.

Seafood is king in Southwest Florida. Oysters on the half-shell, shrimp and grits, scallops in spicy garlic butter, yellowfin tuna, and fresh catch of the day grilled, fried, or burnt. I love seafood, but I was one grouper entrée from becoming a merman. Imagine my joy when I spotted a Five-Guys Burger and Fries.

The complex had a nice exercise facility, and I took advantage of the elliptical machine to manage added pounds from eating too many Wednesday sweets. Adjusting to elderly men and women in stretch tights took a couple of days to undo the shock. The gym had mounted TVs, but instead of news or sporting programs, vintage reruns like Gunsmoke and Andy Griffith were popular (I’m not making this up). Color me happy when someone switched to Discovery Channel’s ‘Pickers’.

The complex had an amazing marina with a restaurant facing west for stunning sunsets and great views of boaters maneuvering thirty-foot cabin cruisers with the skill of a fifteen-year-old’s learner’s permit. You had to arrive two-hours prior to the setting sun to get a seat. Five-minutes after the sun disappeared, the place emptied as if someone shouted ‘cockroach’. We stayed and ordered another drink. The brisket burger called my name.

Hey, let’s go to Fort Myer’s Beach.  I’d forgotten about the annual college ritual of spring break. Traffic backed up for miles waiting to cross a two-lane bridge. Police manned crosswalk islands, not on watch for underage drinking, but ready to cite drivers who weren’t wearing seatbelts. It must be a major revenue generator.  Out of curiosity and a touch of naivety, we stopped by a gaudy multicolored hotel called the Lani Kai Island Resort for a drink. The place had the air of an unrestrained mash-up of college fraternity/sorority revelers at an inner-city bus terminal. Absent responsible supervision in any form, youngsters in various stages of undress swarmed beaches and bars like ants at a picnic. The acrid taste in my mouth was volatilized raging hormones polluting the air. The bartender took an immediate shine to us, thankful for a sober adult conversation in what might have been the first in days. I tipped her heavily and left post haste, my hopes for the next generation in question.

Once we adjusted to a slower pace, our days unfolded relaxed, and without the never-ending distraction at home of things that needed doing.  How can you turn down skipping winter in Pennsylvania? We posted beachy sunsets. Our neighbors posted snowdrifts. I don’t look forward to wearing sweaters again and the itch of a peeling tan.

By far, our original mission to bring some light and happiness to Ann’s mother succeeded. Frequent visits enhanced her cognition. The succession of instances we settled her in the car, I noted improved strength in her ability to stand. She greeted us with a smile each time we visited. It was difficult to leave.

Will we return as snowbirds? The twinkle in my mother-in-law’s eye, and the open-armed welcome of both renters and year-rounders, has us considering next year. We enjoyed cruising the left lane as trained snowbirds in sunglasses, doing our part to govern the speed limit. If we do return, I’ll wipe the dust off golf clubs I’d left at home, and join the duffer ranks of carefree, congenial folks who play worse than I do.

Snowbirding It's been a rough spring largely because I missed it.  In December, we made a sudden decision to spend February through April in Florida.

[justauthoring]

Sansa Stark x fem!Reader

a/n: hello! I’ve considered opening a writing blog of my own, but I’m extremely nervous to do so as I feel that my characterization may be a little off. If you could give me any pointers or constructive criticism, it would be greatly appreciated. 

This takes place after season six, so if you have not caught up and you want to avoid spoilers, you probably shouldn’t read this. Please keep in mind that this is my first imagine… ever. I’ve never written one, and I’m really nervous about this one being out of character. 

I hope it’s alright, but I decided to use two lines from a prompt. 

“You risked your life for me. Why?” 

“I thought you forgot about me." 

Warning(s): Mention of torture, s6 spoilers, 

NOTE: Gif is not mine. 

Rays of light shone through the window by your bed, casting light onto your body as your sleepy eyes opened. The events of the previous night entered your mind. 

It was over. 

Ramsay had been defeated, and in the process, you had been freed. When Sansa was brought to Winterfell, she had married Ramsay, as per the arrangement Littlefinger and Roose had made. At the time, you were serving the Boltons, and it was made your job to serve as Sansa’s handmaiden, more or less. Really, your job was to keep an eye on her and to update Ramsay if it seemed she was trying to escape. During that time, you took care of her; you brought her food and drink, you helped her bathe and dress, and took on the responsibilities of a normal handmaiden. You were there when she had been broken. You had to watch as the strong Stark girl was broken, and you felt your own heart breaking as you did so. 

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with her. You loved Sansa for many reasons; for her determination and strength, despite the situation she was in. For the way she smiled, which was something you had only previously witnessed once before. There was something in her eyes, something that only you could see, that reminded you of a fire. 

A fire you wanted and needed to keep alive. 

When you found her and Reek escaping together, they were frightened. You could tell Sansa feared you would tell, but you would never do that. "Go,” you told her. “Go before he comes back. I’ll buy you some time.”

That was the last interaction you had before she left. She had responded with a nod, tears in her eyes as she and Reek vanished from sight. Really, you were happy she escaped; Ramsay couldn’t touch her. You didn’t care what he did to you, as long as she was safe.

Ramsay called you a fool, threatened to kill you for letting her escape so easily. You covered for her when he first returned, telling him she was bathing. He could see right through your lie, and because you lied to him, he wanted you gone. You were locked away, being “saved for later” according to Ramsay, until, to your shock, Sansa returned and freed you. You couldn’t remember much more than that, other than a few flashes of sharp pain, blood, and screams. You didn’t want to remember what happened; all you knew for sure was that he had scarred you, both physically and emotionally. 

Anyway, after the battle things began to settle down. You went straight to your chambers as soon as you got the chance, and you didn’t stop to speak to anyone. Eventually, you fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. 

You emerged from your bed stretching your sore muscles. It took no time for you to dress and pull your hair into an almost acceptable style, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t want to see the scars that covered your skin; you knew they were there, but you weren’t ready to see them yet. 

Opening the door, you were instantly greeted by Sansa. She had a stern expression, but slowly, her ice cold features melted, and a slight smile pulled at the corners of her lips. It was small, yet it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Even after everything that occurred, you always remembered that you loved her. It was one of the only feelings you held on to. 

“Y/N,” She said. “I’m glad you’re awake. I wanted to speak to you." 

You wanted to smile, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to. Still, one corner of your mouth perked up in a failed attempt you hoped didn’t appear disdainful. "You can come in, if you’d like.” You offered as you stepped aside, opening the door to your room a little more. Sansa entered, and almost sadly, she looked around. Silence filled the room as she gazed at your bed, then at the window you had slightly propped open. A cold draft came from the window, and with it snow blew in, further reminding you that winter was upon you. The silence became tense and awkward, as neither of you knew exactly what to say.

“What is it you wanted to discuss?” You asked in an attempt to clear the tension in the air. 

Sansa turned and faced you, her eyebrows raised in such a way that suggested she had forgotten. Regaining her composure, she spoke. “Why did you help me?" 

The question caught you off guard. 

You considered how to answer; you could say you felt bad for her, which wasn’t a complete lie. It would suffice, but still… why should you hide the way you felt? Yes, your relationship– should it exist– would have to be secret. That much was obvious. You could handle that. But what if she didn’t return your feelings? What if your confession scared her away? Or, alternatively, what if she felt the same way? You would never know. 

"Your duty was to the Boltons, but you still helped me. You risked your life for me. Why?” Sansa continued. You studied her expression. Her thin eyebrows were drawn together in confusion, her lips pressed together, flattened, as if she wanted to say something further, but was repressing it. 

Again, you considered your options. You were reminded of the pain you endured for helping. Why lie about it? What did you have to lose? You saved Sansa, just as you wanted to. You wanted her, and to hell with the consequences. 

“I… I love you, Sansa.” Saying the words out loud gave you a monumental feeling of relief, so much so that your chest visibly sank as if you sighed in relief. You felt lighter somehow, even though the air was filled with palpable tension. Part of you feared what she would say next, while the other half of you was far too gone to care about what would happen. 

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise, her eyebrows raised in equal measure. She visibly gulped, and licked her lips as they parted. Without another word, she stepped forward, her arms encircling you in a hug. Her lips pressed to yours for only a second, yet that second held so much bliss, so much passion and love. The kiss was short lived as Sansa pulled away, her eyes locking with yours yet again. The both of you were breathing heavier now, the shock of the moment sending electricity through your veins.

This was the most alive you felt in your entire life.  

“I love you, too." 

Those words were the ones you were dying to hear since you met Sansa. You couldn’t believe your luck, that somehow the beautiful wolf had fallen for you. There were questions you had, hundreds of thoughts that needed to be answered, but that didn’t matter; you just wanted to live in the moment. 

"Why are you crying?” Sansa asked, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. Until then, you hadn’t noticed the tears that were now trailing down your face. You didn’t even realize you were crying. 

The feelings you had kept bottled up until then spilled over, and before you knew it, you were a mess. You were shaking, and your breaths came out as gasps. You were damn near hysterical. 

“I thought you forgot about me,” you said between your bursts of air, your lips trembling. Fear was what you felt, you realized. All of the fear you felt while you were held captive, treated as a prisoner. The whole time you were chained up, you feared that Ramsay was going to return and kill you, that you’d never escape. That Sansa was gone, or she didn’t care about you at all.

“Y/N, I would never forget about you. You were the one bright light in all of the bad things that happened. You still are.” Sansa hugged you tighter, not caring as your tears soaked the shoulder of her cloak.  

You didn’t know how long the two of you stayed there, holding each other until you finally calmed down. Some time after you were calm, Sansa took your hand and stood by your side, and in that moment, you felt stronger than ever. 

You could take on the world now, with Sansa by your side. 

JustAuthoring: FIRST SUBMISSION! Thank you! Hope you all enjoyed, this ones really good! Please check out this account and share the love!

Submitted by: @paranormaldemontrash

[pandabearlikes]

Temporary Affairs II

 Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Disclaimer: There may be a part in this chapter not suitable for younger viewers.  If you do not wish to read it kindly skip the section highlighted with the "※               ※                 ※" borders.  It’s more for comedic purposes than ahem, but let’s play safe ;).

  Chapter 13.  Happiness 

  A month flashed by in the blink of an eye.  Yoona turned from a pink wrinkly creature to a chubby happy little baby.  You soon realized that you had been scaring yourself with the whole “unfit to be a mother role” talk because you were practically an expert; it was so much easier than you had imagined because you were enjoying every moment of it.  Plus, Yoona was such a good girl.  She rarely threw tantrums without a reason.  In addition to all of that, your mother-in-law had bonded with the little princess.  There wasn’t a moment where they weren’t together. 

  “Aigoo!  Yoon-ie is such a beautiful girl, isn’t she?” your mother-in-law bounced the little bundle up and down on her lap. 

  You passed her a bib to wipe off the drool that escaped from the corner of Yoona’s lips.

  “She has such big round eyes just like her mother’s,” she complimented.

  A flush of pink covered your cheeks.  Yoona extended out her tiny arms as if asking to be held.  Your mother-in-law happily complied, bringing her into her chest. 

  “She’s spoiled rotten!” you exclaimed, giggling when the baby’s lips curled up into a sneaky smile. 

  The jingling of keys sounded from the front door.  You turned around to see Jongin and Sehun enter, chatting gleefully with one another.  In Sehun’s arms was Youngwoo in a mini suit and tie. 

  “Aww, my little Youngwoo-yah!” you jumped from your seat to greet the little prince. 

  Sehun gladly passed the baby boy into your arms.  You nuzzled into Youngwoo’s tummy and he giggled at your touch.  Holding him, you stalked back to the sofa to reunite with your mother-in-law and Yoona. 

  The little boy looked at Yoona intrigued to see another baby in the same room. 

  “Young-ie, this is Yoona!” you introduced in a baby’s voice, “Do you think she’s pretty?” 

  Youngwoo babbled happily in affirmation while Yoona scared innocently back at him. 

  “Oy, Jagiya, are you trying to play matchmaker?” Jongin asked. 

  “And what if I am?” you inquired, wiggling your brows. 

  “You’re really going to betroth our precious little princess off already?” he half-whined.

  “And what if I am?” you repeated.

  Jongin looked at Sehun for backup but Sehun simply replied, “I don’t mind”. 

  Your husband threw his head back defeated. 

  -----

  On a Sunday afternoon, a few weeks later, Jongin, you, and Yoona took time off to visit your parent’s place because they had been nagging to see the baby.  Eagerly, you pounced into the back seat, kicking your legs gleefully for you hadn’t been back to your old house in over a year.  Shaking his head in amusement, your husband carefully opened the back door and buckled Yoona into the baby carrier.  She flailed around, whimpering and crying at the unfamiliar atmosphere. 

  “Aigoo, my little princess.  It’s okay, Omma is here,” you immediately bent over to kiss her and rubbed her little tummy in a soothing manner. 

  After another round of kisses, coos, and peek-a-boos, the baby’s mood picked up.  Jongin and you sighed in relief. 

  “So are my queen and my princess ready to set off?” your husband asked in the driver seat while adjusting the rearview mirror. 

  “Yes Sir!” you saluted and he drove off. 

  On the way there, you and Yoona invented a new game called “Bye Bye Pacifier”.  Yes, you could have thought of a more creative title but it was really on the spot.  At the red light, Jongin turned around to peep at you two’s silliness and laughed.  Basically, Yoona would spit out her pacifier; you would go “oopsie” in a baby voice, pick it up then stick it back into her mouth.  She’d make this adorable noise between a giggle and babble and playfully spit it back out, thrashing her tiny arms around to motion for you to pick it back up for her.  By the time you were at your destination, you guys were at round twenty-five of “Bye Bye Pacifier”. 

  “Jagiya, we’re here,” Jongin announced after realizing that you were so focused in your playtime with your daughter, you didn’t even notice.

  “Oh,” you responded then turned to the baby, “Yoon-ie, you wanna see grandma and grandpa?” 

  She sucked on her pacifier, making a “toot toot” noise.  Awww.  I’m gonna meltttt.  Jongin got out of the car and opened the door for you.  You unstrapped Yoona and gently lifted her up onto your chest. 

  “Omma!  Appa!  I’m home!” you greeted as soon as the maid opened the door to the place you spent your childhood at.  You almost cried tears of joy. 

  “Aigoo!!!  My precious baby!” you mother rushed toward you.

  You extended one arm out, anticipating a hug but your mother U-turned and took Yoona out from your arms. 

  -____________-.  You pouted.  Beside you, your husband stifled back a mocking laughter and instead patted your shoulder. 

  Crossing your arm, you followed your mother into the living room area. 

  “Now that Omma has Yoona, she forgot about ________,” you pretended to be upset, but really you were so overjoyed that Yoona was so loved in the family. 

  “________ah, you’re not jealous of your own daughter, right?” your mother asked, not taking her attention off the cute baby in her lap.      

  “What if I am?  Even Oppa neglects me for Yoona,” you jokingly complained. 

  Next to you, your husband immediately retorted, “I do not!” 

  You turned to him and threw him to a goofy grin to make sure he knew you weren’t being serious.

  “Well, even if he did.  I wouldn’t blame him, Yoona is the most adorable little baby ever.  Huh?  Isn’t Halmoni right, Yoonie?” the older woman said, nuzzling her nose against your daughter’s tummy.  She squirmed around spitting out her pacifier.

  “Oopsie,” you automatically replied, squatting down to pick it up, disinfect it, and stick it back into Yoona’s mouth. 

  “Abonim, do you want to hold Yoona?” you heard your husband ask your father who had been silently watching. 

  “Yeah, Appa, do you want to play with her?” you asked, picking up the baby to give to your father but he grunted and shook his head. 

  So you hang your head in disappointment and held Yoona up to your face to kiss her chubby cheeks in case she was also hurt by the rejection.  But really, it was your way of comforting another in hopes of distracting yourself from the blow.  Upset, you turned around and sat back down beside your mother.  Just as you do, your husband stood up, walked over, took Yoona from your arms, and placed her onto your father’s lap.  The middle-aged man, looked up at his son-in-law stunned but then softened when Yoona cooed and bounced up and down joyfully in his hold.  A rare smile crept on his face and tears brimmed in your eyes.  Jongin sat down next to you with an arm around your shoulder. 

  You leaned your head into his chest and whispered, “Thank you”.  Squeezing your hand, he shook his head to defer the credit so you rewarded him a gentle peck on the cheek. 

  “_______ah, I have something to give Yoona, come upstairs with me,” your mother spoke. 

  “Oh no, Omma.  She’s already super spoiled,” you informed but your mother was stubborn.  So you nodded and followed her up, curious as to what the present was. 

  Midway down the second floor hall, you started to feel a bit homesick.  After all, this place was where you spent the first twenty-two years of your life.  It was where you took your first step, rode your first bicycle, cried when you failed your chemistry exam…etc.  Unknowingly, you stopped in front of your princess room and peeped in.  Everything was still the same –  the pastel pink walls, lace curtains, and princess chair.  You giggled recalling the time Jongin barged in to check on you after you had forgotten to give him a call after you got home.  We will meet again someday, thank you for being my escape for these twenty-two years.  I have found my home with Oppa and Yoona now.  With a contented sigh, you closed the door.

  As your mother dug through her drawers searching for the mysterious gift for your daughter, you waited outside to not pressure her.  That’s when your eye discovered that your father’s office door wasn’t locked.  Growing up, it was like some forbidden area that no one – not even your mother was allowed in.  Curiosity killed the cat.  Tiptoeing, you took a peep through the slit.  That’s when you saw it.  Instantly, a tear rolled down your face.  You opened the door and without your consent, your legs guided you forward to the image that captivated your attention earlier.  In the center of the room was a painting, oh so nobly framed in this gorgeous glass and crystal border.  But it wasn’t just any painting – it was “The Puppet”, your first ever work of art that got officially displayed at an art gallery.  Your husband had informed you that immediately following its exhibition, an anonymous buyer had purchased it for a large sum of money.  Never in a million years would you have guessed it was your one and only father.

  Your lips quivered and your face was immediately swamped in tears.  Lifting your hand, your fingers grazed along the painting.  Under it was a label that read, “My Precious Daughter, ________’s Masterpiece”. 

  “Appa…” your voice cracked and your shoulders shook. 

  Your attention turned to the other walls of his office, that were lined with other drawings and pictures, a few of them dating to when you were just the tender age of three.  It was a sloppy crayon drawing you did for a preschool assignment called, “My Family”.  Walking over to another wall, you sobbed seeing a ripped up painting that was taped carefully back together and framed in a delicate diamond border.  It was the watercolor landscape you drew and submitted to an Art Academy secretly, behind your father’s back, when you were applying for colleges.  When he found out, he had angrily torn it up and threatened to disown you if you dared diverge from the path of business he had intended you to walk.  But why was it here?  You wiped your tears to squint at the letters underneath.  “A Father’s Heartbreaking Decision,” it read.  You burst into tears. 

  “Waaaa waaa waaaa,” a baby’s cry caught your attention. 

  Gasping, you turned around to see Jongin with Yoona in his arms.  Next to him was your father.  Upon realizing you noticed him, he instantaneously turned to leave. 

  “Abonim!” Jongin called.

  “Appa!” you called too, racing out of the room to chase him. 

  He stopped in his tracks with his back facing you. 

  “Appa…” you called out again, slowly walking toward him. 

  From his shaking shoulders, you could tell he was crying.  So to give him face, you stopped a foot away from him and didn’t force him to turn around. 

  “…I really…really didn’t know you kept all my artwork…” you began tearfully.

  Swallowing, he cleared his throat and said with a cracked voice, “I didn’t want you to find out”.

  “But why?  I don’t understand Appa…I thought you said my art was worthless…” you sobbed. 

  “Appa…Appa was selfish,” he admitted, “To insure that my company would survive generation after generation…I sacrificed my one and only daughter’s happiness…not only her marriage but also her passion and talent”. 

  By then, you were already bawling a river.  Beside you, Jongin squeezed you shoulder.  You looked up at him with watery eyes.  He gave you a reassuring nod and a gentle push for you to walk forward.  So you did.  With quivering lips, you placed your hand on your father’s arm.  His body stiffened.  Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him. 

  “Thank you, Appa,” you sobbed. 

  For the first time he turned to you and you finally saw the extent of his break down.  His eyes were bloodshot red and her facial features sagged. 

  “No…you shouldn’t—“ he spoke.

  “No, I should.  Growing up, I was under the illusion that you thought my art was not good enough.  But now I know.  Thank you.  And because of you, I have found my eternal happiness with Jongin-oppa and Yoona,” you responded, tightening you hug around him. 

  He was silent for the next few minutes but gradually, he brought his hand up and patted your shoulder.  It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to show you that he cared and his actions against you growing up were all out of love.  With one last squeeze, you removed yourself from him.  Turning around, you realized that not only was Jongin and your daughter witnessing the father-daughter interaction, your mother had seen it all play out as well.  She wiped the tears that brimmed in her eyes and walked up to your with a velvet box in her hand. 

  “Here it is.  Your father picked it out,” she informed.

  “No, I didn’t,” you father immediately countered, fidgeting nervously. 

  “Yes, he did,” your mother corrected. 

  You sighed in anticipation and took the box from her hands.  Inside was a pair of golden anklets with bells.  You squinted your eyes and picked up the one that looked visibly worn out.  Inside was a deep engraving of your name. 

  “_______ah, do you remember that?  It was yours when you were a baby. Your father kept it to this day.  After you gave birth, he searched everywhere for a blacksmith who would make a replica for your daughter”, your mother informed.

  Holding back tears, you held the other anklet up to your eyes to see “Kim Yoona” engraved into the inside.  You held it up to your chest, sobbing. 

  Jongin walked over with Yoona and asked, “Abonim, do you want to help Yoon-ie put it on?”

  Biting your lip, you looked from your daughter to your father.  A whimper managed to escape when the older man blinked back tears, stepped forward, and took the anklet from your hands.  His body trembled but with determination, he gently slipped it onto the baby’s foot. 

  “Waa, so pretty, right Yoon-ie?” Jongin said, bouncing her up and down.  She squirmed around causing the bells to jingle. 

  Your father sighed and turned to leave but you called after him.  Holding out the box that contained your anklet, you asked, “Appa, do you want to keep it?” 

  He looked up to stop the tears from falling.  A wide grin spread across his face and he placed his hands over yours that held the box, “I’d love to”. 

  You threw your arms around him again.              

  -----

  One day as you were taking your sweet time soaking in a bubble bath, Jongin barged in to relieve his bladder.  You gasped, covering your body shyly.  Really…why were you that shy…Your heart raced in an insane speed, roaming over his body. 

  “Sorry, Jagiya, I really need to go.  I’ll be quick,” he apologized.

  After using the toilet, he turned around to leave but you slid open the glass shower door and popped your head out.

  “Oppa…do you want to stay?” you asked bashfully.

  His hand hovered over the doorknob, seemingly debating whether to stay or to leave. 

  “Oppa…” you called out seductively. 

  In seconds, you watched him strip down, tossing his clothes randomly all throughout the restroom as if creating a trail all the way from the door to the bathtub you were in. 

  ※               ※                 ※

    You huffed and puffed.  Sweet drops trickled down your forehead, down to the crook of your neck, stopping on the valley between your breasts.  Jongin teasingly licked it off with his tongue.  You groaned and he smirked. 

  “Stop teasing me…” you whined. 

  “Okay, Babe.  Ready for another round then?” he said lustfully. 

  Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as his bare skin touched yours.  A shiver ran down your spine like electric currents.  You clawed his back when he slipped inside of you. 

  “Oppaa…” you called out, bending your back forward to get closer against his body. 

  Flexing his neck, he flirtatiously grazed his lips against yours. 

  “You’re teasing meeeee,” you whined, grasping a fistful of his hair to keep him steady so you could kiss him back. 

  A moan escaped your lips when his tongue crept into your mouth. 

  And then suddenly, a loud wail sounded through the baby walkie-talkie monitor.  You blinked, confused and hazed at first from your lovemaking to recognize what was happening.  But when you did remember, you tapped on Jongin’s shoulder to get his attention. 

  “Yoona,” you managed to say in between a kiss. 

  “Should I go get it?” Jongin asked, still hovering over you, his hips still thrusting up and down. 

  “No, I can,” you replied, though you’d honestly much rather continue what you were doing. 

  Just as you were leaning over to grab your top, Yoona’s cries ceased.  Puzzled, both Jongin and you froze in place. 

  “I got it.  You two can continue doing…uh…whatever you were doing,” your mother-in-law’s voice shouted from outside the room. 

  “Oh my God,” you mouthed to Jongin but all he did was chuckle in delight. 

  “Guess we can go a few more rounds tonight then, Babe,” he leaned in to suck on your lower lips.  You’re such a teaseee you sex god. 

  But you always fell for his trap – always.     

  ※               ※                 ※

      On a Sunny afternoon, two months later, Jongin and you were sitting on the bed flipping through tourist magazines.  You knew you wanted to go somewhere romantic for your make up Honey Moon.

  “How about San Franciso?” Jongin suggested but you shook your head.

  “Nah, that place is so foggy!” you commented.

  Smirking, he draped an arm around your waist and seductively whispered, “You know what we can do in all that fog?”  Omg.  Oh no you didn’t, bad boy. 

  You felt the temperature rise up from your toes to the top of your head.  Taking the magazine into both your hands, you fanned it to lower your body temperature.  But Jongin, held onto your wrist to stop you. 

  “You know, I can easily help you with that instead,” he slurred.

  You bent your head back when he nibbled your ear.  Kim Jongin, you life ruiner!!!  And somehow within seconds, he was already on top of you, licking your lips to tempt you to fall into his trap again.  And you willingly fell.  But a sudden knot in the pit of your stomach caused you to push him away.  Covering your mouth, you dashed into the bathroom and threw up into the toilet.  Oh crap.  Kim Jongin, you did not…

   Your husband quickly sprinted into the restroom to check on you. 

  “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, his tone so much more serious than the one he used in bed. 

  Clutching your stomach, you continued to vomit into the toilet bowl.  Grimacing beside you, Jongin patted your back, hoping it’d make you feel better.  When you were done, you immediately flipped through the calendar looking for familiar red stars that you stuck on each month as record.  But you hadn’t marked anything this month.  With your mouth agape, you turned around to look at your hubby. 

  “What?” he asked confused at your expression. 

  “Kim Jongin…you did not…” you gritted your teeth. 

  “I did not what?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. 

  Shaking your head, you dug in the cabinets for a pregnancy test.  You never thought you’d be putting those to use so quickly.  Jongin’s eyes widened.

  “Jagiya…you’re not…” he began and you sent him a death glare. 

              So for the next ten minutes, the two of you waited quietly in the bathroom.  At first you were so angry and miserable that there was a possibility of #2 coming so fast after you had just gotten through the first pregnancy.  Well, and the fact that your husband had promised you a Honey Moon to make up for the one you guys missed because you got pregnant and had to cancel the first one.  But as the clock ticked, your frown gradually flipped upside down.  There were so many people in this world dying to have children but couldn’t and if God trusted you enough to gift you another little angel, then you’d be more than happy. 

  You looked up to glance at Jongin and realized he’d been silently observing you.  His face was filled with remorse and guilt. 

  Laughing, you asked, “What’s with the sad face?”

  “I’m not going to forgive myself if I got you pregnant so fast again,” he grunted. 

  With a contented sigh, you got up from the toilet seat and walked over to sit on the edge of the bathtub, next to Jongin. 

  “You know…Oppa…maybe it’s not such a bad idea.  At this rate, I’ll be done giving birth to our six children by the age of thirty!” you chirped, hugging his arm. 

  “But I promised you I’d take you on your vacation,” he sighed. 

  “Yeah, Kim Jongin you better not forget that.  I better get to go on a world tour after #2,” you joked. 

  Your husband’s spirits lifted seeing that you weren’t upset anymore.  The timer buzzed on your phone to notify you that the results were out.  Jongin and you exchanged looks of anticipation.  Closing your eyes, you said a little prayer. 

  Two lines.  A wide grin spread across your face. 

  “Yay, our Baby Rockstar is on board!” you exclaimed happily. 

  Next to you, Jongin sighed again and leaned in to kiss you on your cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Jagiya,” he apologized. 

  Frowning, you turned around and gave him a stern look, “I’m not angry at all…but if you continue to have that depressed look on your face then I will be.  I will come to the conclusion that you don’t want me or the baby”.

  “No!  No, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said defensively. 

  Smiling, you took both of his hands into yours and said, “Then let’s go celebrate!!”

  Jongin chuckled, thankful for your optimism.  You dragged him downstairs to share the good news with your mother-in-law, who you knew would be thrilled to learn that she was about to have another grandchild to play with. 

  Midway, your husband stopped you.  With a sigh, he gazed into your eyes.  You looked back into his.  Effortlessly, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and subsequentially leaned in to give you a tender, loving kiss.  You kissed him back with just as much love. 

  “Jagiya, I really love you,” he confessed, “Like really, really”.

  “And I really, really, really love you too,” you replied, tiptoeing to give him another kiss. 

  When you two separated, he nuzzled his nose against yours. 

  “…But…I’m ready to add another ring to my collection,” you joked, pointing at the two that sat on your ring finger.  Hehe. 

  “Your wish is my command,” he slurred before closing the distance between your lips again. 

  You giggled into the kiss, feeling oh so, so blessed to have gone through the whirlwind of events to lead up to this point time where if someone asked you to describe in one word, you would simply reply with, “Happiness”.          

              a/n: ~CRIES A RIVER~ THANK YOU ALL MY LITTLE UNICORNS AND BUNNIES <3 >3< It has been an amazing journey with you guys through Temporary Affairs!!! o(╥﹏╥)o

  Jongin & his super sperms though haha.  & Youngna/ Yoonwoo ship sailing already when they’re only babies gahhhh legit love at first sight!!!  (▰˘◡˘▰)

  NOW WHO’S READY FOR BEAUTIFUL DISTRACTION?!  WHERE ARE MY TAO BIASES?!?!  RAISE YOUR HANDS!!  SHOOT ME A MESSAGE!!!! 

  Also, a reminder to please, please vote for EXO in MAMA Awards.  Click here for post I talk about it: VOTE VOTE VOTE.   

 ????

[carpostnet]

The Great Indian Automobile Industry Crisis Of 2019 | A Recap

One of the most well liked subjects of 2019 was the downfall of the Indian Automobile Industry. The car business has by no means confronted such a stoop in over twenty years. Sales have been taking place in double digits in a mere month. Over 2.30 lakh individuals shedding their jobs in July 2019. It was a giant downside. Big sufficient for the federal government to step in and introduce some main modifications to the years price range to assist jump-start the economic system and as everyone knows it didn’t do a lot.

Read: Union Budget 2019 | Impact On The Automobile Sector

The Great Indian Automobile Crisis Of 2019

Sales have been nonetheless taking place and firms began shutting down crops to compensate for the loss. The OEM and OES spare half suppliers have been hit the toughest. Most of the individuals being small-time businessmen couldn’t recuperate from the losses and needed to shut down.

Recommended For You: The Indian Automobile Crisis Explained

Will the Indian car business be again on monitor in 2020 or there’s something worse to see.

Indian Automobile Industry 2019 | The Fall

The snowflake that began an avalanche

During July 2018 a change was requested of the auto sector. A regulatory change in axle load norms. This was only a small change however even a small drop may cause an enormous method (the butterfly impact) and it occurred on this case. The concept was to make use of it to limit the automobile inhabitants in India and scale back emissions. Maybe it was the rationale perhaps it wasn’t however from this level, the downfall of the business had began and no person knew what’s gonna occur within the coming yr.

Maruti suffered probably the most loss

SIAM sounds the alarm

The Society of Indian Automobile Manufacturers (SIAM) within the month of could declared that there’s a decline within the car business which was the slowest ever in eight years. Data supplied by SIAM said that the decline started from July 2018 (throwback to Axle change) and the decline was simply growing. The axel change was just for industrial automobiles and their sale was not as affected because the passenger ones. So what may very well be the rationale for passenger gross sales downfall?

See Also: The Indian Automobile Sector | The Crisis Continues

This known as a enterprise cycle

A enterprise cycle is one thing that’s frequent to each sector. It begins with an Expansion (extra merchandise developed), Peak (the very best glass ceiling a sector can attain), Recession (sector stops increasing and falls to destructive for not less than 2 quarters) typically the cycle resets right here or goes to Depression (sustained recession inflicting main downfall across the complete sector) Trough (the sector begins choosing itself up once more) and at last Recovery (again to the start and every thing begins anew).

The Great Indian Automobile Crisis Of 2019

In the case of the Indian Automobile Industry, it had its peak interval for over twenty years. Now I do know it’s only a saying however The greater they’re, the more durable they fall.

Recession and Depression

As mentioned earlier if recession stays for a very long time it turns into melancholy. The gross sales stoop nearly made it seem that the melancholy was inevitable. However, that didn’t occur. One of the businesses that have been hit the toughest have been Maruti. They reported a rise in income throughout the month of October on the event of Dhanteras, promoting over 45,000 vehicles in a day. So if there’s a stoop happening why did they promote a lot in a single day?

Most Viewed: Indian Automobile Crisis | The Ones Who Survived

It wasn’t recession however over-saturation

Imagine one thing you wish to eat. You go to a restaurant that claims they make that very same factor however they modify it each time. Then you go to the place and notice the change just isn’t in flavour simply in its presentation. You let it slide for a day, per week, a month, a yr, twenty years ( now the place have I seen the identical quantity). It’s boring however you don’t have a selection. What are you able to do anyway? Then a brand new restaurant opens up and it provides you one thing new, a breath of contemporary air. You go there and discover out that it’s method higher. What was the purpose of the analogy you ask? Well, I gained’t tarry any longer.

The Great Indian Automobile Crisis Of 2019

Kia and MG got here available in the market throughout the time it was at its lowest. They opened the bookings and Kia had over 50,000 Bookings until October whereas hector receiving over 21,000 bookings in a month which compelled them to shut the bookings as they couldn’t manufacture a lot.

So may very well be that these firms have been new and simply reached the second step of the enterprise cycle or that they introduced one thing during which individuals hadn’t seen. New applied sciences which have been frequent within the International market have been new right here. People needed an alternate and so they obtained it.

Latest News: Indian Automobile Sector Breathes A Sigh Of Relief | September 2019

Maruti Suzuki had a monopoly over the market for the reason that starting of operations in India. They made a car that was reasonably priced for most of the people and to not the creme de la creme. Cars have been a luxurious again in these days and Maruti Suzuki made it a typical merchandise. This gave them a stranglehold over the sector which was not shaken until 2018.

Will the Indian car return to its glory?

Will the auto business return to its former glory of double-digit proportion revenue each month or will the recession proceed and grow to be melancholy?

The Great Indian Automobile Crisis Of 2019

In my sincere opinion, there was no recession however oversaturation. The giants of the sector made a whole lot of vehicles anticipating a whole lot of gross sales but it surely didn’t occur. So to forestall losses they stopped the manufacturing of recent vehicles until they promote the previous ones. Which in flip brought about the OEM to fail and fall as they couldn’t maintain themselves afloat whereas the economic system was taking place.

To forestall additional losses giant scale kicking out individuals ( forgot the phrase for it ) started. This was because of the reality the companies of such individuals have been now not wanted as the corporate already had extra vehicles within the stock.

Latest News: Huge Relief For Automobile Sector | From BS6 to Electric Vehicles!

So sure, the Indian car will come again in 2020 with new Electric automobile launches on the horizon and completely different addition to previous basic to actually make them completely different and never simply look clever can be a constructive level. I do know most of this submit was simply speaking about what really occurred quite than what is going to occur however we have to perceive what occurred in an effort to work out what is going to occur subsequent. That’s why we’ve got historical past topic too in order that we be taught from the errors of others and don’t let it occur once more.

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