#there used to be a fourth one before they started working for the british man but hes not around anymore!

[laikahh]

waaah waah waaaah . save me blue lock meshi...

[itsspiiit]

Unexpected…

Parings: Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary:You’ve been staying up at ungodly hours due to the bountiful amount of work you had from school. Your good friend Hobie comes over one night to help you stop your stressing and sleep. But the night had different plans for you both.

Inspo: Wet by GRLWood

Warning(s): NSFW (mdni), mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, mentions of sex work, NOT proofread (cause I didn’t feel like it). If you see any errors… no you didn’t.

Thursday, 3AM

You sat at the desk in your room typing away on your laptop with a bowl of various fruits next to it. The flexi rod curls you put every ounce of arm strength you had into almost didn’t exist anymore. Your reading glasses slid from the bridge of your nose to the tip of it, making it easier to see the chanel bags slowly forming under your eyes. Unknowingly, your back hunched over the longer you sat down and tried to complete the third essay assigned to you this week.

You were exhausted. But you had a fuck ton of english work to do and insomnia kept you awake. Your regret for majoring in psychology grew with every indentation and word you typed on the keyboard.

Just as you were about to start typing the third to last paragraph, a soft rhythmic knock on the window startled you. Your body jolted at the unexpected sound causing your glasses to slide further down your nose. Using your middle finger to push them back to their proper position, you turned your head in the direction of the window and almost all of your stress left your body when you saw him.

Hobie, your best friend with the cool hair, stood outside with his contagious smile painted across his face as he waved at you with his long, slender, ring decorated fingers. His torso was covered halfway with a black crop top you ripped and designed for him and a spiked leather vest you spray painted the anarchy symbol on the back of. He wore black ripped jeans that were secured on his hips by a spiked belt and chains dangling from the belt loops.

Fuck, he looks so good.

Pushing your thoughts to the side, you pushed your chair back and stood up to open your window for for the 6’5 man. “Hey, Hobie.” You greeted him with a soft smile, watching him climb into your room and start to take his boots off before closing the window. He walked towards your bed and threw himself on it, placing his hands behind his head and crossed one leg over the other.

“Wagwaan.” He greeted back with a lopsided smile. His smooth, deep voice and british accent always sounded so sultry to you. Every time you guys talked it felt like a challenge to see how long you can keep your self respect before you up and pounced on him.

“Well,” you began to respond as you sat back in your desk chair and tossed a grape into your mouth, “it’s three in the morning and I’m trying to finish… what? Like… the third, fourth essay I was assigned? Been working on it since probably ten or eleven.”

His beautiful pierced face immediately fell into a shocked expression with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. “You haven’t taken a break, have you?” All you could is shake your head and let out a long stressful sigh as you looked at your computer screen with visibly tired eyes.

“Not only is it because I can’t sleep, but I wanna get everything done ASAP. My work is do on Sunday an-”

“It’s due Sunday?!” He cut you off, his tone bursting with disbelief. You felt a laugh bubbling up in your chest hearing his thick accent but held it in, reaching into the bowl and eating a pineapple chunk. “You know that’s in three days, right?” He continued as he pressed his elbows into your soft mattress and sat up giving you a look that read “are you serious?”

“Of course I know that, but-”

“But nothin’, mate. Close the computer.” He cut you off again, gesturing his head towards it.

“Hobie-”

“Close it.”

Not having the energy to go back and forth with him, your eyes rolled in annoyance and you shut your laptop. You turned your head in his direction and saw that a closed mouth smile was painted across his face. “Oh, you’re happy now?” You asked with a deadpanned expression.

A low chuckle escaped his throat watching you mug him as he nodded his head. The sound had you doing backflips mentally as your face began to heat up slightly. “Knowin’ that you aren’t nose deep into a screen goin’ mad about somethin’ that’s due in seventy two hours? Yeah, I’m quite happy.”

He swung his legs off your bed and sat up, reaching over to grab a mango chunk and tossed it into his mouth. As he chewed he saw your face drop into a “are you deadass?” look. He stopped chewing for a moment, awkwardly looked to the side and back to your face.

“Yeah, Hobs! You can take one!” You voiced with sarcasm as you threw your arms up and back down to your sides. He gave you an apologetic smile as he started to slowly chew the sweet and refreshing fruit again. “What made you come here at this time of night though? Can’t think of anywhere to steal from?” You asked playfully with a teasing smirk.

A light laugh came from him as he finished chewing before he responded. “I actually didn’t feel like stealin’ until you mentioned it.” You chuckled and shook your head at his antics. “But, nah. I couldn’t sleep and I knew you’d be up so I thought why not come over and bother you.”

“Ahhh… so what you do almost every day!” Both of you erupted into laughter at your comment. He knew that you were joking, and you knew you enjoyed his presence a little too much.

“Oh, come out of it. You know you love when I’m around.” He spoke as you guys’ laughter died down. Placing his hands on your bed, he leaned back bit and gave you a cocky smile.

Oh, he know he fine.

“Eh, sometimes.” You shrug playfully, reaching into the fruit bowl and munching on another grape. He reaches for the bowl again and takes a kiwi slice, but you don’t mind this time.

Once he done chewing he begins to speak. “Are you saying that because I always beat you in Uno?” You gave him a bored expression as you watched the smile on face grow.

“Hobie, please. You beat me that one time-”

“And I beat you three times in a row.”

You scoffed at his cocky behavior and crossed your arms. “I bet it won’t happen again.” You eyed him up and down with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He gave you the same look as one of his eyebrows lifted in feigned curiosity. “Is that a challenge?”

It was now four in the morning. You sat on your bed with your back against the headboard and the gorgeous punk sat in front of you with crisscrossed legs, his leather vest now off his shoulders and hung on the back of your desk chair. You guys were two intense Uno games in, Hobie being the winner of both of them.

“Uno.” He announced with a lopsided grin as he placed a yellow three card and red three card down at the same time. You were starting to lose hope. You held the two cards you had thinking hard about the multiple possibilities of how this game could end. Until…

“UNO OUT!” You exclaimed slightly with a proud grin as you slammed a red skip card and red eight card down. You finally won a game after what felt like hours of playing.

He also gave you a proud smile as he began to pick up all of the cards that were piled on your mattress. “You finally beat my streak. ‘M proud of you.”

The voice. The Smile. His Confidence. Now the praise. It was all slowly becoming too much. His comment made your heart beat a bit faster, waves of heat traveling from your head and down to your lower region. It caused your sensitive bud to throb gently, and you crossed one leg over the other to somehow bring it to a halt.

He’s gonna be the death of me, I swear.

“Wanna play another game?” He asked when he was done picking up all of the playing cards. You sighed softly as you crossed your arms and shook your head.

“Nah, I just wanted to beat you in at least one game of Uno. Got tired of you talking shit.” He chucked at your confession and wrapped the rubber band you used to keep the cards together back around them. “But we can play connect four if you’re down. I’ll definitely win the first game.”

“Oh, I’ve got to see this.” He spoke with a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll go get the game.”

He got off your bed and walked towards the closet, opening it and instantly scanning the top shelf for the box. You pulled your phone from underneath your pillows and scrolled through instagram as you waited for him to come back with the second challenge for the night. Your cluttered top shelf slipped your mind as you thought you wouldn’t even have company today.

When he found the game, he tried to pull it out of its position without knocking anything down. But it all happened so quickly. As he began to pull the Connect 4 box out, so did Candy Land which was right beneath it. He reached his unoccupied hand out to make sure that game didn’t fall in the process, but he didn’t know that these two board games were keeping a pink Shoe Dazzle box from falling as well.

He successfully got Connect 4 from your top shelf without another game falling, but he didn’t see the pink box making its way out of the closet as well. When it fell, it landed on the side which caused the top to fall off as it hit the floor. He looked down and watched what was inside of the box roll out in awe.

Various sex toys with different shapes, sizes and functions were now scattered across the floor in front of her closet. A pink massage wand, black seven inch dildo and a black silicone butt plug with a blue gemstone on the bottom of it were the main toys that caught his attention since they were so close to his feet. He wanted to speak. He tried to speak. But he was too stunned to try and even utter a word.

There’s no way she has all of this. Am I dreaming?

The sound of the box hitting the floor made you look up from your phone with a confused expression, but it was immediately taken over with disbelief and shock. Your eyes were so wide you’re surprised they didn’t fall out of your head. Your jaw hung so low it would probably hit the floor if you were standing. The gasp you let out was so sharp and loud it made Hobie turn his head in your direction. You can see the disbelief in his face as well and that alone made tears start to form into your eyes.

All you could do is grab a pillow and sit it on your lap, plop your head on it to hide your face and scream. Your face was so warm in embarrassment that it felt like it could melt off any second now. You can feel your friends stare on you, searching for answers in a way, but you couldn’t even look at the man.

There was a long, unbearable silence between the both of you. So much tension in the room that it could be cut with a knife. You sat with your face buried into your pillow, take deep breaths to calm yourself down before you finally built the courage to get off your bed and walk towards the “mess” that was created. Without looking at the handsome man next to you, you squatted down and placed the box down with the opening facing the ceiling and began putting everything back where it was before.

“Uhh… you need help with tha-” Hobie spoke awkwardly in attempt to break the loud silence. He put his hands up in surrender and backed up a bit when he saw you side eye him with a displeased expression.

(I had to use the picture this was the PERFECT opportunity to do so 😭)

You continued to pick up your toys, still without uttering a word or even looking at him. From your peripheral vision you saw his feet step away from his position next to you and heard his footsteps stop where your bed was located. You assumed he sat and your bed again, maybe to give you some space. You picked up the cardboard top and slammed it onto the box when you were done picking everything up, instantly getting up and putting it back on the top shelf in your closet.

You kept your head down as you closed the closet and walked to your previous spot before all of this: your desk chair. Still not being able to look at the company on your bed, your hand reached for your closed laptop until…

“Don’t even think about it, bruv.” Hobie stopped you with a playful scowl in his tone crossing his arms. All you could do is let out a dramatic sigh, cross your arms on the desk and place your head on them, hiding your face once again.

Hobie eyed your movements the entire time. He understood why you were embarrassed, wanting to curl yourself into ball and just hide. But he didn’t understand why you were acting this way towards him. Of course he was shocked that you out of all people had all of this… material. You’re the introverted, shy, kind of nerdy and laid back friend. Always at home with your head stuffed into a comic or manga, loved sleep more than anything, would rather write than talk. Just the opposite of him and he didn’t mind that.

But he didn’t understand why you thought he cared about your secret box so much. This wasn’t gonna make him think about you any different. If anything, he was more curious and a bit turned on after finding out such covert information.

He decided to try and break the silence again. “This isn’t as bad as you’re makin’ it seem, love.” You can hear the sincerity in his tone, his sultry voice and the pet name he used still had your sensitive bud aching for attention.

He couldn’t see it, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his statement. “What do you mean?” You questioned without lifting your head.

“It was a little unexpected, but it’s not botherin’ me in any way. Your personality isn’t in that box.” His honesty never faltered as he let out a light chuckle, gesturing his hand in the direction of your closet.

You scoffed at his statement in disbelief, finally sitting up and crossing your arms as you gazed at the wall in front of you. He was starting to get annoyed at the lack of eye contact and he sucked his teeth, glaring at the side of your face. “Look at me, mate.”

You heard the seriousness in his voice, and you closed your eyes taking a a deep breath before opening them and turning your head in his direction. Finally locking your eyes with his, you searched for any vacillation that could be hidden. But there was only sincerity. He meant every word he said.

“I’m sorry, Hobie. It’s just…” You trailed off looking to the side for a moment before looking back him. “You saw everything in that box. My childhood best friend doesn’t even know what’s in there. How am I supposed to believe that you don’t care about what you just saw?”

“Because I don’t.” He shrugged with a sarcastic laugh. “If I’m bein’ completely honest, the only thing I’m wonderin’ is how and why you have so many. I’ve never met someone with a box full of sex toys. Shit, I don’t even have that many.”

Your face fell into a curious expression as you listened to his words. “You have sex toys-”

“It’s not about me right now.” He spoke quickly shaking his head.

You chuckled at his quickness to dismiss your question. “Well, to stop your wondering…” You trailed off again with a sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously.

Am I really gonna tell him this?

You saw his eyebrows raise, eager to hear what you had to say.

Might as well just tell him. It doesn’t make sense to hide this now.

You blew a raspberry, preparing yourself to inform your friend of your biggest secret. “Long story short… I’m a sex worker. About a year and some change now. The financial aid package I receive from my college falls short on covering the cost of the tuition and other expenses. I don’t wanna put myself through five hours of class and then seven to eight hours of labor to make ends meet. So, I started looking into sex work. Seeing how much I could possibly make, the different types of content that people would pay for, the fact that I’d be working any time and anywhere I wanted was a plus as well. Now, here I am: I make about eight hundred dollars weekly, two to three thousand monthly. It’s enough to make sure I can pay for college and still do what I want.”

When you finished your confession, Hobie was left speechless with a slack jaw. He blinked a couple times to try and process the information he was given. His friend who couldn’t even socialize for more than two hours… Is a cam girl?

…Why is this kind of hot?

He picked up his jaw and cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts out of his head with a deep sigh. His behavior made all of the negative feelings you had before resurface. You looked down at the floor with shame as you shook your head.

“I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut-”

“No, no, no, no, no!” He quickly stopped you from finishing your sentence waving his hands. “I meant everythin’ I said before. None of this is gonna change my perspective of you. It’s just…”

He trailed off, the naughty thoughts he had slowly clouded his mind again. He felt his blood slowly rush to the head of his member thinking about the fact that he was sitting on the bed that you made some of your content on. You could’ve made yourself cum on the sheets you currently have on your mattress today, and thought of him sitting in the spot where you probably left a big, creamy mess was driving him mad.

“Hobie?” You spoke with a bit of worry as you noticed him zone out. You watched as he swallowed thickly and blinked twice, the leg that hung off your bed beginning to sway from side to side. You bit your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to paint your face at the scene.

Ahh, I see what’s up.

He felt his length throb softly, the feeling made him groan but he attempted to hide it with a deep, throaty chuckle. The sound not only made your entrance clench with need, but it gave you a bit of confidence to say your next words.

“Do you wanna see how I make my content?” The slight seduction in your voice caught him off guard, his head shot up to look at you with a shocked expression. You could see the desire in his eyes start to expand at your question.

“Wai- what?” He stammered breathlessly. He didn’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but he didn’t mind as it made it him throb again, his manhood slowly becoming erect.

“I know you heard me, Hobie.” You answered teasingly with a voluptuous grin and. “It’s a simple yes or no question.”

There goes that silence again. Sexual tension building as you eyed each other down. Once you both saw that y’all were on the same page, you smiled at each other with a knowing glint in your eyes. Y’all began to stand and walk towards each other with only one thought in mind:

“Finally.”

You were now laying on your bed with your torso completely exposed, showing off the nipple piercings that Hobie didn’t know you had. He swore it was as if he was finding treasure with every second he spent with you. Your legs were spread wide open to expose the red lace thong you’ve been sporting, revealing a small wet stain that your aching core left on it.

Hobie sat in your desk chair that he moved to the front of your bed, his torso also completely on display. The sight of his lanky yet toned and muscular physique only made you wetter. His boxer briefs were still attached to his lower half, his erection very prominent and aching to see what was next. Your tripod stood next him with your phone placed on it horizontally as it recorded.

“I’m so wet for you already. Dripping through my thong for you.” You spoke seductively, moving your body closer to the tripod and gorgeous man in front of you. Even though you looked into camera the whole time, he knew every word was meant for him.

“I only get this wet for you, baby. I’ve been waiting so fucking long to show you how I make myself cum when I think about you.” As if read each other’s minds, both of you placed a hand on your chest and slowly dragged it down to your most sensitive parts. Your hand slid inside your thong as his began to gently palm his shaft over his boxers, biting his lip to hold the groan that was ready to escape his throat.

The hand you slipped into your underwear made it’s way to your throbbing clit, your natural juices already coated all over your flower. You slowly and gently began to rub your sensitive button in circles, a low moan escaping your lips at the smooth feeling. The sound of your arousal squelching echoed off the walls in your room, drawing a low grunt from the half naked man at the foot of your bed as he continued to palm himself.

“I’ll show you how pretty she is, only if I get to see how hard the sound of my needy pussy made you first. Can you do that for me?” You continued to play with yourself, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. He immediately lifted his hips and slid his boxers off of his hips with ease.

His length was finally revealed to you, springing out effortlessly with him sighing blissfully at the feeling. Watching it slap his stomach gently, the tip going past his belly button, had you moaning at the sight. Your leaking entrance clenched with need as you thought of his member thrusting into you slow and hard, the prominent veins rubbing against your smooth, wet walls deliciously.

“Mmmm~ that dick is so pretty.” You admitted as you lifted your hips to remove your thong. You slid it off your legs and threw it in a random direction away from you. Your other set of lips spread slowly as you opened your legs again, showcasing your beautiful sensitive flower glistening with your wetness. “It’s so hard for me already, babe. I know you wish you stretching this tight, wet, warm pussy with every inch.” Your hand reached for your slit, spreading your labia to display your opening.

It was already starting to become too much for Hobie. The way you uttered such naughty words with ease, how you played with your beautiful pussy so delicately, the way you looked into the camera with such lust and longing desire. He bit his lip at the alluring sight before him, eyes rolling back as they closed for a moment when his shaft throb for attention.

You moved your hand so that you were touching your delicate bud again, letting out a pornographic moan as you started to rub it in circles again. “I wanna watch you make yourself feel good too, baby. Spit on your hand, get that aching cock nice and wet for me, and stroke it nice and slow. I don’t want you getting close too fast, okay?”

He instantly did what your smooth, gentle voice commanded him to do. The sensation of his moisturized hand slowly sliding down to the base of his length made a deep groan fall from his lips. He slid his hand up to his tip with the same pace, hissing at the feeling of himself softly pulsate in his grip. He found a rhythm rather quickly, a rhythm that already had his head lulling back in bliss as he imagined it was your pretty, dripping hole gripping him gently as you rode his erect member.

“Mmn~ fuck.” You whimpered as you felt your opening leak more of your sweet extract at the lustful view of his now glistening girth pulsate in his slender hands. The friction of his hand spreading his spit around him could be heard as he watched you play with yourself. “You’re throbbing so hard for me already. You like watching me play with my needy pussy for you, baby?” Your hand moved downward to tease your leaking hole, and you let out a short, low purr followed by a sharp gasp when you felt the tip of your middle finger almost enter.

The pretty boy in front of you analyzed your face and body with hooded eyes clouded with hunger and eagerness to cum with you, wishing it was the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. A deep, animalistic growl escaped his throat as he began to thrust his hips into hand at a steady pace. “Shit.” He moaned when he started to flick his wrist as he continued to caress his length, stroking at faster pace.

“Ooh~ my finger slides in so easily.” You moaned breathlessly when you felt your smooth, greedy walls suck your digit into yourself. You slowly thrusted your coated finger in and out twice before pulling it out, watching a string of your arousal stretch from your core attached to your digit. The strand of your extract broke when brought your hand to your face, sucking the juices off but making sure your finger was still moist enough so you can slip it into your hungry opening again.

Hobie grunted eagerly as he watched you. His release was building up slowly, but he held it in. “So fucking good.” He groaned lowly feeling his pleasure intensify, the pace he stroked his girth never faltering.

You eased your index finger in after penetrating yourself with your middle for a while, your mouth falling agape at the delightful feeling of being stretched out slightly. Curving your slick digits upwards, another sharp gasp escaped your mouth as you felt the tip of them gently press again a spongy spot inside your dripping core. “Oh, yes, right fucking there.” You whined desperately at the new feeling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you continued motioning your fingers upward.

At this point you and Hobie forgot about the phone that was recording your sinful actions and naughty sounds. You were both in a state of euphoria— the sensual noises coming from guy’s mouth, your arousal squelching and leaking nonstop with every thrust of your fingers, the sight you both had as you watched each other masturbate intensely with the same amount of eagerness. It was enough to bring you both closer to that release y’all were so desperate to receive.

Your hips bucked into your hand as the pace you thrusted your dripping fingers became faster and sloppier, your free hand gripping the covers on your bed tightly as you felt the small pressure in your stomach start to expand. “Fuck, Hobie, I’m gonna cum so hard for you. I’m so close, baby~, i’m so close.” You babbled mindlessly as you brought the hand that was gripping your sheets to you aching clit, rubbing it in steady circles to quicken the arrival of your powerful orgasm.

“M’ right behind you, love. Get that nut, baby. Fuck… I’m right there with you.” He encouraged you with a growl. The pet names, his seductive voice, and seeing the pace of his thrusting hips increase as he watched you bring yourself to the most mind shattering orgasm was all you needed to make the pressure in stomach pop as you made a delicious mess on the bed and floor below you.

Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head and jaw fell open as you came with a long, loud, moan. Your juices flew out of your pulsating entrance when you quickly removed your fingers from inside of you, rubbing your clit in circles rapidly making your squirting essence fly in any and every direction.

Hobie watched the voluptuous scene in front of him with a slightly gaped mouth, breathing heavily and rapidly as it brought him to his climax. His eyebrows furrowed in bliss, his stomach and testicles tightening as he milked himself with his hand. A loud groan exited his throat as he angled his girth towards his stomach and released, ropes of his seed painting his beautiful melanated torso. The hand he used to jerk himself off reduced its speed as he slowly came down from his high.

You both sat in your current positions regulating your breathing after the intense mutual masturbation session. When your breathing began to balance out, you heard a quiet whimper come from the attractive man in front of you. Your eyes made their way to him, seeing him slowly stroke his still erect girth with his head thrown back.

You threw your legs off your bed and got off of it, walking towards the tripod and stopping the recording. You sent the video to Hobie before making your way in front him, kneeling down and gently placing your hand on his thighs as you looked up at his pretty fucked out face. He felt your hands run up his thighs and to his hand to remove it from his length.

He looked down at the beautiful woman in front of him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she planned on doing. All of his wonder went out the window when he watched her bring one of her hands to his thick, long member jerking him up and down once just to feel him throb. She then brought her head down a bit, slowly licking a wet line from his balls to the sensitive spot below his tip as she looked him in his eyes with hers feigning innocence.

“Fuck. Baby, don’t tease me like that.” He he groaned breathlessly at the sensation. She chuckled seductively at his words, kissing the head of his dick before spitting on it. She brought her hand back to his length to spread the moisture around him, feeling her lower region begin to ache for attention again when she heard him whine at the feeling of her warm fist starting to jerk him off at an agonizingly slow pace.

Hobie’s eyebrows creased in confusion when he felt her stop her movements, but his confused expression was immediately replaced with a slack jaw and his eyes rolling back when he felt her lips wrap around him gently. “Mmm~ so soft.” He moaned as she pushed her head lower onto him with her humming at the taste of him taking over her tastebuds.

“Oh- ooh, shit. What the fuck?” He moaned blissfully in bewilderment as she immediately slid his girth down her throat. She contracted the walls of her throat around his manhood as she started moving her head up and down.

The feeling of her warm lips and wet, tight throat wrapped around him has his eyes behind his head for the thousandth time tonight. One of his slender hands made their way to her soft, messy hair, gripping it gently as he held her head down and began to thrust his hips into her face. “Your throat feels so good, doll. Oh, my…” He trailed off with a needy whine.

He thrusted his hips faster, her eyes beginning to water as he slid further and further down her esophagus. She felt him gently throb in her mouth as she mentally thanked the man above for not having a gag reflex. She hummed around him once more to bring him closer to his second release.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, f-fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m-” His babbling stopped abruptly due to his climax crashing down on him. He groaned breathlessly as he throbbed repeatedly and came down her throat, still holding her head down and keeping his hips still.

Once she felt his member slowly start to become flaccid, she pulled her head up and removed her lips from him with a pop. She looked up at him with innocent eyes as she swallowed every drop of cum he fed her, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out to show him afterwards.

He smiled proudly at the sight, watching her come up from her position on the floor and straddle his laptop. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hers made their way around his neck and rested on the back of her chair. “I didn’t think you had that in you, love.” He spoke teasingly as he looked up at her with his bright, gorgeous smile.

She chuckled at his comments before responding. “You didn’t think I had a lot of things inside me. Now look at where we are.” You both laughed lightly at your statement, Hobie pushing you down towards him by your back and gently pressing his lips onto yours.

You instantly melted into the kiss as he gripped your thighs and stood up with your legs wrapped around his hips. He walked towards your bed and laid you down on it, him laying next to you as you guy’s lips separated. You faced each other, one of your hands making their way to the back his neck as you started to playing in his hair.

“So, about those sex toys you mentioned earlier…” You spoke with a playful grin.

“Oh, my days- no. Good night.” He responded with playful frustration, Shuffling his body closer to yours and stuffing his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed at his tone and words, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back gently.

Both of you enjoyed the fact that after engaging in such sinful activities, you can still joke around like nothing happened. You also really appreciated how he didn’t judge you and made sure that you knew his intentions and perspective of you were still pure… kind of. He really enjoyed what went down tonight, and he hoped that you guys could do it again sometime.

And you felt the same exact way.

I know the ending seems rushed I apologize guys 😭 I said this was gonna be posted Thursday night and I MEANT IT okay. But I hope you guys enjoyed!! My first smut on tumblr and more to come 💕

[whencyclopedia]

Samuel Adams

Samuel Adams (1722-1803) was a prominent Patriot leader in the American Revolution (1765-1789), and a Founding Father of the United States. He was one of the most vocal opponents of 'taxation without representation', was a founding member of the Sons of Liberty, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, and the fourth Governor of Massachusetts (served 1793-1797).

Adams was a lifelong resident of Boston, Massachusetts, who, prior to the Revolution, had failed at every career he tried. It was not until the Stamp Act crisis of 1765 that he found his political voice, writing anti-British essays in colonial newspapers; the "simplicity, purity, and harmony" of his prose quickly elevated him to one of the most influential Patriot leaders in the New England colonies (Schiff, 72). He worked tirelessly in the defense of colonial rights, keeping the revolutionary flame alive even when others would not. A radical and early supporter of independence, he helped unify the Thirteen Colonies by setting up a system of committees of correspondence in 1772, played a leading role in the leadup to the Boston Tea Party, and helped draft the Articles of Confederation and Massachusetts Constitution.

His propensity to resort to propaganda, as well as his association with the Sons of Liberty, has turned him into a controversial figure, with his critics accusing him of instigating mob violence to achieve his ends; he was a "Machiavelli of chaos", according to his rival Thomas Hutchinson (Schiff, 7). Other contemporaries praised his zeal and political shrewdness, with Thomas Jefferson calling him "truly the Man of the Revolution" (Boatner, 8). Whichever was the case, Adams was certainly steadfast in his principles, stemming from his Calvinist upbringing, which led him to eschew financial gain in favor of maintaining virtue. His shadow loomed large over the revolutionary era, and he played a major role in prodding his fellow Americans onto the path toward nationhood.

Early Life

Samuel Adams was born on 27 September 1722 in Boston, the largest city in the British colony of Massachusetts Bay. He was one of twelve children born to Samuel Adams Sr. and Mary Fifield Adams, of whom only three would live past infancy. The elder Samuel Adams wore many hats; he was a deacon at the Old South Congregational Church, he was a local politician who served in an informal, populist organization called the Boston Caucus, and he operated a malthouse that had been in the Adams family for generations, providing Boston with much of the malt it used to brew its beer. The Adamses were by no means rich, but owned a sizable chunk of property and a modest home on Boston's modern-day Purchase Street.

The younger Samuel Adams attended Boston Latin School before enrolling in Harvard College in 1736 at the age of 13. He graduated four years later after an unremarkable academic career; the most noteworthy thing about his undergraduate education was that he was once fined by the school for "drinking prohibited Liquors" (Middlekauff, 165). After graduation, he tried his hand at several careers but failed at every one. He was first apprenticed to a merchant but was sent home after showing little aptitude for the trade. He next borrowed £1,000 from his father to start his own business but gave up after he lost the money. He even toyed with the idea of becoming a minister but quickly gave up on that as well. As he bounced between prospects, he found steady work at the malthouse, eventually becoming a partner in the family business.

Continue reading...

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

The Bird And The Man

Chapter Five

Rated Explicit | Warnings: None

Ao3

Chapter Four | Chapter Six

You did not go to school early in your life, your mother could not afford it no matter what job she got. She taught you everything about life, words came from going to the library during her breaks or dropping you off there because it was safer there than home alone. Luckily, there were a few other kids and a former teacher who did not mind watching over them so long as they behaved.

That older woman with a British accent taught you the power of the pen. She retired her title but not her skills.

You had structure, you learned, and you grew.

As time passed, you started writing stories when you hit your teenage years, many of them short and simple. Until you read a book named Call Of The Abyss by Orpheus. There were others, so many you have read, but those books drew something within you. Lighting a fire within your soul.

When mother passed and your job as a housekeeper was not making enough to both eat and sleep, you tried something different. Had made a few changes, location is everything. Your first job within your skill level was simply writing down words spoken; following around someone quickly, having a sharp hearing, and you learned shorthand that first week of getting that job.

Ghostwriting happened by chance, someone found a story you wrote (it was just a made-up story about Sherlock Holmes for some kids around the street you lived on). He hired you to write his son's book.

You… Never seen such a large amount of money before.

One book, two books, and a third book.

The contract broke the year your employer's brat decided to write the fourth book that was a failure.

He did not read the outlines you made for each book.

Outline, noun, definition one: a line or set of lines enclosing or indicating the shape of an object in a sketch or diagram. Definition two: a general description or plan giving the essential features of something but not the details. Definition three: give a summary of (something).

The quill writes like any other normal quill, yet, the words you cannot control yourself to write every bit are not normal.

Golden Cave, Lakeside Village.

You are out of breath and stumble backward knocking over your chair as you stare at a mess of papers— Written on these papers are the horrors of the miner and his death.

The quill falls to the floor as you hold your head, the painful memories not your own suddenly gone. It hurts a lot, then it fades until only your mind remains.

When you returned from the match with others, Lucky Guy was waiting in your room. He had given you a letter with the infamous seal on it and simply your name on the envelope. You burned the letter as ordered by Lady Nightingale after reading it…

Next, he asked some questions. All seemed strange yet made sense as you started seeing things— Seeing people you never met around you.

The side effect of Outline, she dubbed it, is you will see these memories until you give them a voice. This voice is your medium: pen and paper.

The ability given to you is based on the many tutorial matches Lady Nightingale made you do. Something unique to you, your edge in the matches but must be used wisely. It only can work twice, once as a ‘freebie’ (Lucky Guy’s words), and only lasts as long as you can handle the damage it inflicts upon your consciousness returning to your body.

This is why you were hurt badly when Orpheus found you. Nothing like a hunter's damage but enough to have left you stumbling.

The knock at your door snaps your thought process, you quickly pick the chair up from the floor and clean up the mess of papers stacking them neatly, you check yourself in the mini mirror and-- Whatever, whoever it is can deal with you not looking your best.

“Hello?” Opening the door slightly to see Orpheus, “Oh, good uh… Evening?” What time is it?

“Good evening, Hypnos.” A pleasant smile on his face, “You weren't at dinner so I thought we could eat together?” Holding two plates of food. “If you are available.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Sorry about the mess. The writing process and all!” Laughing bashfully as you open the door and step aside to let him in.

Your room smells of ink, coffee, papyrus, and incense (a gift from the Priestess to help with stress). “You can eat here.” Adjusting the chair to face the desk, “Thanks, Orpheus.” Taking both plates of food and puts his plate down before sitting on the bed with your plate on your lap.

Orpheus looks different without his usual white suit, this one cuts him to look a bit bigger than how the white suit makes him. The vest, the rolled-up sleeves, the small circular glasses, the dark casual dress pants. His mannerisms are the same as he sits down, the man knows well how to start a conversation.

All after the food is done, the butler delivers a bottle of wine and two glasses, you never turn down a nice glass of wine. Helps with digestion.

“You published your book, congratulations.” Cheers as your glass and his glass touch in toast.

“Yeah, I know not the ideal circumstances but I needed it to be out there in some way!” Taking a sip of the rich red wine, “Edgar did amazing on the cover!”

“He did, you should praise yourself too.” Eyes watching before he drinks too, “It is well written.”

“Did you like it?— Wait, no don't tell! Not sure if my confidence can handle a review from someone I admire.” There's a smirk on his face, one that has you looking away as you drink more of your wine, “Anyway, how about you? Any ideas or drafts?”

He leaned back against the chair with his legs open, a relaxed pose different from how seats, well, anywhere in public. “The fifth book of Call of The Abyss is going well.” Stirring the wine gently with the rotation of his wrist, “The topic was about you, however.”

“Well, I'm not very good at that.” Shrugging, “It's out there and that's it.”

“You did splendidly.”

“Oh, you're just being supportive.”

“Hypnos, repeat after me,” Now leaning forward and his hand on top of your knee, “I did splendidly.” And you are very aware of how beautiful his voice is. Or maybe how stern he can sound that makes you feel warm.

“I… I did splendidly.”

“Yes, you did. I do hope you continue to write more.” Getting up from the chair, you do know why you miss the warmth on your knee, “Thank you for allowing me to keep you company. Rarely do I find such a lovely fellow author to converse with.”

“Yes, yes you too!” Oh, wow, you are screaming inside. “Goodnight, Orpheus.”

“Rest well, Hypnos.” He leaves with a glass of wine in his hand, “Enjoy the wine. You earned it.”

Christmas events are not really your thing. Maybe because most of your childhood Christmas was either you alone with a book or your mother finding ways to keep you both warm. It is strange though, a comfort you did not expect from the after-effects of Outline ability: Norton understands this. The part of being poor with almost nothing to your name. 

You do not talk about what you saw, the quill felt invasive and you rather not scare anyone about the ability. Still, at least you know someone understands why you do not participate.

Though you may not take part in the festivities, you have to dress up per Lady Nightingale's request (order). So here you are dressed like Jack Frost. Blue tailcoat suit with snowflake accents, sparkling white shoes, white gloves, and mini top hair clipped to your hair. Blue eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, white freckles with glitter; the woman is very much into details.

It is very over the top.

Before the musically talented survivors and hunters get together to perform, you slip away to take a breather. It can be overwhelming when you see the survivors and some hunters attempt to enjoy themselves. Not everyone here is a monster, they are all actors in a play with no ending.

Depressing to consider but it is a reality you know others have accepted.

The place you call Elysium is beautiful. The fresh snow, the barren tree decorated with snow, the few birds chirping away. Sadly, your paradise is fucking cold! “Tsk.” Annoyed but you smile at the beautiful scenery. “Edgar would like this.” Looking around then your smile grows big seeing the familiar large creature you adore. “Orpheus!” The bird rather than the man approaches you.

Fluffy and doting, you nuzzle the beak part of his mask. Your hand holds his face in place as you cover him in kisses, and most of your blue lipstick. “I missed you.” Because you do and the few chances you are together with him it is always moments you savor.

“Miss. You.” Softly spoken though you wish he wouldn’t hurt himself doing that. His hands hold you by your waist, his head on your shoulders, he is a peace around you. Physical touching is your love language, well, you have many ways to express your love but with him, you find touching him is important to both of you. Maybe he feels like a monster, and he looks like a monster, but you know he is not. It is a feeling and the reason you trusted in that allowed you to become close to him.

The sound of Christmas music echoes throughout the manor, he guides your hand onto his shoulder and the other to hold his hand. You giggle as he guides you into a slow swaying motion, his foot going back on step and you take one step forward.

It is like a dream, the one you see in those silent movies, both of you are quiet as there are no words needed. 

[tinyarmedtrex]

91 ("I remember everything") for firstprince would be amazing!!!

You've got it Nonnie! TW for hospitals and comas.

Henry had forgotten how bloody loud hospitals were. It wasn't just the staff darting about or patients being rushed to and fro. No, it was the beeping of the monitors, the drip of an IV. All these modest sounds that amounted to a constant din. One that didn't let you forget, even for a second, where you were. 

"Well Alex, shall I read you the headlines?" He asked, opening the morning paper. It was a ritual he'd started. By the fourth day he'd run out of his own words. He'd considered bringing books and reading those to Alex, but he knew his fiancé. The man would much prefer to be kept abreast of local politics than hear Emma for the third time.

"Hm, it looks like that city council member we loath caused another scandal. Unsurprisingly."

Alex, of course, didn't respond. At least not beyond the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the steady beeping of his heart rate monitor. At this point Henry didn't expect him to. He'd spent the first two days trying to wake him, imagining that if he said something outlandish enough that perhaps it would shock him into waking up. Nothing worked. Not even saying that his grandmother would be marching in a pride parade or that Pez was becoming an investment banker. 

So now he just read. The doctors said that it was good for Alex to hear his voice. Even if it didn't seem like it, he was listening. They said might help bring him back. Henry clung to that hope, needing it to be true. But with every hour that slipped by his hope diminished.

It had been ten days. The longest ten days of his life. Ten days since Henry got the call that Alex had been shot, that he was in intensive care, that they didn't know how bad it would be. 

Now, it seemed that he was out of the woods, physically at least. But Alex was still in a coma and Henry had been warned that he may have some memory loss. Whenever he pressed for more details, he was met with something akin to "I'm sorry, but we won't know until he wakes up".

He tried to take heart in the fact that they still thought he would wake up.

Henry put down the paper to look at Alex. He still wasn't used to seeing Alex so still. Even in sleep he tended to act like he was being attacked by the pillows. Henry could have never guessed how much he'd miss the constant fidgeting. "You're a fighter, love. You've always been one." He had to stop as tears welled up in his eyes. "You can beat this; I know you can." Each day the odds of waking up decreased. Henry knew that soon doctors would be asking different questions, telling him that it wasn't fair to any of them to keep Alex like this.

"Please wake up." He finished as the door opened and June slipped in for her shift. 

"Love you Hen," she said as he left. They didn't even bother discussing updates anymore. There hadn't been any changes for days.

Reluctantly, Henry returned to their flat. Everyone told him that he needed to take care of himself too, go home and sleep, shower, relax. But how was he supposed to relax when everything in their flat reminded him that his person wasn't there? It was too quiet, too still. David was staying with Pez, which made it even worse to be home. It was truly just him. 

Henry took a shower before wandering aimlessly. He knew he should try to sleep but couldn't bring himself to go to their bed. It was too big without Alex in it.

He eventually went to the couch and turned on Great British Bake Off before falling into a restless sleep.

Only to be awoken by his phone. Rubbing his eyes he saw that he had several missed calls and texts. He played one of the voicemails from Nora.

"Henry, he's awake. You've got to get here. Quick." 

Maybe there was more. He didn't hear it if there was. He was already at the door, reading the messages as he ran. None of them gave any details, all just said to get to the hospital. 

The fact that Henry managed not to get arrested on the way was nothing short of a miracle. He'd never driven so recklessly. But Alex was the only thing on his mind. 

Finally he was there. June and Nora were waiting outside the room. 

"Is he-" Henry started then stopped, unsure how to end the sentence.

"He's awake." Nora said. "That's the good news."

Henry stopped, his eyes flitting between them. "And the bad news?"

June looked close to tears. "He doesn't remember any of us." 

Nora patted her hand then looked at Henry. "But the doctors said-"

He was already pushing past them, rushing inside the room. The sight made him want to sob. There was Alex, sitting up and chatting with a nurse. All the heads turned to him and people parted to let him past.

"Hello." Henry said, carefully watching Alex for any flicker of recognition. 

"Hi." Alex cocked his head. "Are you my- accountant?"

He had to close his eyes, so Alex didn't see the hurt in them. "Not exactly." 

Everyone cleared the room, saying something about giving them a moment and Henry sat next to Alex. "I'm your- well-" He stopped, swallowed. What if Alex didn't even remember he was bi? How much had he lost? 

"My what, baby?" 

The pet name opened the floodgates and Henry started to sob. It took several minutes for him to calm down. When he did, he looked back at Alex. "Fiancé. I'm your fiancé."

Alex's eyes opened wide as he looked at Henry. "You?"

He nodded, bracing for the worst.

But Alex only grinned. "Shit, I have good taste."

Henry let out a wet laugh. "I'll tell you everything, when you're ready. Even if you never remember I - I can do it for us both." It was a promise he'd made to himself. He would stay as long as Alex would have him, even if his memories never returned. He'd remember for them both.

"Kiss me." 

"What?"

"I know I probably have awful breath but- please? I need to kiss you."

Henry had never been able to deny Alex before, he certainly wasn't going to start now. So, he leaned over and kissed him. He'd intended it to be short, but then Alex gripped the back of his head, drawing him in, and Henry had no desire to move away. Mere hours ago, he hadn't known if he would ever get to kiss Alex again. He certainly wasn't going to be the one to pull back now.

Eventually though a nurse came in, citing a heartrate spike. The two muttered a vague apology but Henry couldn't tear his eyes away from Alex. 

"I'm Henry." He said, realizing he probably should have said that first.

Alex gave him that trademark grin. "Oh, I know sweetheart. I remember everything." 

[eamour]

neville goddard.

the man, who redefined the law.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀table of contents.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀1 ⋮ introduction

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀2 ⋮ early life · career

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀3 ⋮ views

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀4 ⋮ success story

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀5 ⋮ abdullah · influences

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀6 ⋮ work

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀7 ⋮ sources · information

introduction.

neville lancelot goddard (february 19th 1905 to october 1st 1972), generally known as neville goddard, was a teacher and author who is considered to be the inventor of the so called "law of assumption". his works are based on reinterpretations of the bible, explaining the psychological intention of biblical stories and events, which he uses to instruct the use of "the law" in terms of manifestation.

early life and career.

goddard was born in st. michael, the eastern caribbean island barbados on the 19th february 1905 to the merchant joseph nathaniel goddard and wilhelmina goddard. he was the fourth child in a family of nine boys and one girl. around 1922, he moved to new york city where he started working as a ballet and ballroom dancer, while studying drama at the age of seventeen. in his lecture "consciousnes is the only reality" he mentions he has been a dancer dancing in broadway shows, in vaudeville, night clubs, and in europe for ten years. during this time, he married his first wife, which he had a son with, named joseph neville goddard. while touring with his dance company in england, goddard started to develop an interest in metaphysics which convinced him to give up the entertainment industry and be fully devoted to the study of mystical matters. his first marriage was short lived and he remained single for years until in the 1930s he met his second wife, who was a designer. after they married, they had a daughter named victoria.

views.

goddard viewed the bible as an allegory, a parable of the human psyche. his entire ideology is based on the scriptures of the bible. although the bible serves as a record of historic events, neville interpreted it as a guidebook to enlightenment and personal power. the bible is not secular history but rather that the whole drama of the bible is a spiritual drama that takes place in all human beings, written as parables. meaning, he did not believe in an external god outside of the human being. he believed every human to be their own individual god in a human body made out of blood and flesh, while being the creator of their entire physical reality that surrounds them. statements such as "everyone is yourself pushed out" or "you are the lord", clarifying the fact that the external world is just a product of the human imagination or its consciousnes. only we are (you are) god and everything that we‘re surrounded by is an external expression of god‘s (our) internal/mental activity, manifested into the objective world. we are pure imagination, pure consciousness. god‘s unconditioned awareness/consciousness is called "I AM" as it states what we are before anything else. goddard taught that by awakening to this truth, people could manifest their own desired reality by assuming the "feeling of the wish fulfilled" by "imagining and feeling what it would be like if the dream was already fulfilled" or "feeling the wish fulfilled from the assumption that you already have it, you already are the person you wish to be", which is referred as "the law of assumption".

success story.

in 1943, he was drafted into the u.s. army at age of 38, which he did not want, especially as he felt too old to become a soldier, regarding him having a wife and daughter at home to take care of. through "the power of imagination", as neville told it in his march 24th, 1972 lecture, he was honorably discharged after just a few weeks of training. one consequence of his brief army training was that he received full united states citizenship, although he has been a british citizen up to this point.

abdullah and other influences.

in 1931, he began to study under an ethiopian rabbi named abdullah, who introduced him to kabbalah (an esoteric method, discipline and school of thought in jewish mysticism) while also teaching joseph murphy. abdullah deepened goddard’s interest in esoteric interpretations of the bible as goddard started studying hebrew, the kabbalah, and the hidden symbolic meaning of scripture with him. abdullah plays a very important role in goddard‘s spiritual development as he gives the first approaches that shall later guide neville and transform his belief system.

goddard was also influenced by the english poet william blake and early self-help theorists émile coué as well as thomson jay hudson.

works.

goddard used to travel extensively throughout the united states until he eventually decided to settle down in los angeles. in the 1950s, he started giving a series of talks on television and radio, and for many years lectured regularly to capacity audiences at the wilshire ebell theater. in the 1960s and early 1970s, he confined most of his lectures to los angeles, new york, and san francisco. he gave his audiences accounts of how others had made use of the law (of assumption). he discussed it on television in the los angeles area, saying, "learn how to use your imaginal power, lovingly, on behalf of others, for man is moving into a world where everything is subject to his imaginal power."

in conclusion, during his lifetime, goddard has published up to 14 books and has given more than 500 lectures during the 1940s, 1950s, 1960s and 1970s.

sources and information.

one ⋮ two ⋮ pictures were edited by﹫eamour

with love, ella.

[mycenalucentipes]

A very short excerpt from a very long piece - Draco Malfoy x Reader (sample)

a/n: So I'm planning to write a much longer story, I have the beginning sorts drafted. Now I need to write it. I know this project will take me a very long time and that is okay. I am going to move at my own pace and probably won't post much more about it until I'm much further along. I'm documenting this here for my sake :)

It is going to be a Draco Malfoy x Reader piece. I'm so indecisive, but I think I finally went with Y/n coming from a well known wizard/witch family, just not one from London area. She's from Ireland!

I kept debating back and forth whether or not to make another Potter twin one, because I do very much like how those tend to play out.

But I've decided in the end, to go with my first idea haha.

I'm still working on other shorter oneshots and series in the mean time! Those will be uploaded here as I finish/edit them. Tbh I only have two others in the works. 'Ghosts' and some other little DM x Reader fic :) my writing schedule is sporadic, sorry lol. Inspiration will come and go

===========================

Today was the day that Y/n Réaltín would make her journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As she stood just outside the grand entrance of the Réaltín manor, she gazed at the beautiful coastline to her left. Dawn’s sunrise kissed the water, offering it a soft hue of pinks, oranges, and golds. Wisps of scattered clouds brushed the horizon with gentle shades of blush and apricot. To her right, there lie the tranquil rolling hills and the verdant valleys. The rays of sunlight gave the emerald green vegetation a soft, golden glow. The luscious grass swayed gently with the ocean breeze, glistening as the dew clung to the blades. 

Though she was born and raised in Loch Garman, Ireland, her parents insisted that she attend Hogwarts. For that was their alma mater. Her father was a cold and stern man of mystery and distance. However he wasn’t always this way. 

He used to be a vibrant, kind young wizard. Mr. Atlas Réaltín started his journey by attending the Erehnholl School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before his time at Hogwarts. He was a proud Spaniel of Erehnholl, but Slytherin claimed his allegiance at Hogwarts. Shortly after graduation, Atlas rose through the ranks of the Irish Ministry of magic quite quickly. He now works for the British Ministry of Magic as the head of the International magical Cooperation. A respected and powerful figure.

Y/n’s mother, Estelle Réaltín, was a proud Ravenclaw through all seven years of her education at Hogwarts. Although a muggle-born witch, Atlas, a pure-blood did not care in the slightest. She was the most wonderful person in Atlas’ and Y/n’s eyes. Every year during the crisp winter evenings, the entire Réaltín family would go stargazing in their family’s observatory. Mrs. Réaltín always said that winter evenings were the best time to see the Pleiades, which in Greek mythology were the seven daughters of the titan Atlas and the Oceanid Pleione. Her mother owned a little bookshop that was located near the Erehnoll school. Apart from managing a book shop, she was always deep into astrological studies. 

At the age of 11, Y/n’s world as she knew it shattered when her mother passed away. Her father, deeply depressed, buried himself deep into the responsibilities of his position. He was no longer the warm and loving man she once knew. Y/n never did find out why her mother died. Only that she never came back from work one day. Upon her mother’s passing, her father decided that she would transfer into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The original plan was to have her in Erenholl from first through fourth year, then in Hogwarts from fifth through seventh year.

Y/n often sought solace in the tranquil landscape that surrounded the cold and lonely manor. She would wander the coast and gaze out at the ocean with a somber expression. Or she would walk barefoot across the lush grass that blanketed the rolling hills. Y/n became lost in her thoughts. However, her trance was abruptly interrupted when her father harshly called her name, “Y/n! Quickly now, I don’t have all day to spend on sending you off to school now.” He stood at the middle of the steps, sighing impatiently as he waited. 

Sighing, Y/n picked up her briefcase and owl cage, then headed towards her father who was huffing something about how much work he’ll have waiting for him at the office. Mr. Réaltín held out his hand for his daughter to take it. Before she could even prepare herself, he apparated the both of them to Kings Cross Station located just at the edge of Central London. 

She looked around awestruck, just watching the various people rush by in a hurry to get to their next destination. “Come dear, I cannot take you through, as something urgent came up at work. Just head to Platform 9 ¾ and walk through the pillar, alright? Now I must hurry along, don’t be late to the train, love. You’ll have a great time at Hogwarts.” Before Y/n even got a chance to say a “goodbye” or an “I love you” her father had disappeared into the air. She let out a defeated sigh and wandered towards the platforms. 

“So…Platform 9 ¾. Now where the bloody hell is that?” She muttered to herself while walking up and down the platform. She approached platform 9 and then slowly approached platform 10. Her eyes scanned back and forth between the numbers, having not a clue what she was supposed to do. Where was she supposed to go? The time was nearing 10:50 am by now, so she had 10 minutes to figure out where to go, but there were no hints on how to get there. She knew that asking the guards would be absolutely useless. Time was beginning to run out as another five minutes passed. 

Y/n heaved a heavy sigh and began pacing around her luggage and owl. It wasn’t until she heard the hurried footsteps from what sounded like a large family approaching the area that she gained a spec of hope. 

“Percy first!” You saw a kind-faced woman with fiery red hair call out to what seemed to be six children. Whoa. Y/n shook her head from amusement and sprinted towards the lady. “Excuse me, madame, sorry for the intrusion, but I am a transfer student to Hogwarts this year, do I just-” Y/n spoke, sounding unsure of herself, but gestured towards the brick barrier, “walk through the wall?” 

“Oh hello deary, yes indeed. Just hurry through and don’t be scared! You can follow Fred and George here, they’ll show you the way from there.” She explained with a motherly tone, while looking back to the rest of the children. Y/n nodded her head in thanks and looked at the set of twins. She assumed that these two were Fred and George. 

“Hi there! I’m Fred Weasley!” Said the one on the left. “And I’m George Weasley! We’re in year four!” Chimed the one on the right. “Follow us!” They both happily exclaimed while running through the barrier

“I’m Y/n Réaltín! A second year!” Y/n yelled while following them through the bricks. She closed her eyes in anticipation of approaching the wall. In the blink of an eye, the three of them were standing in front of the Hogwarts Express in all of its beauty. 

“Oh! You’re the Réaltín girl?” Inquire one of the twins as the other looked at you for a brief second. “-Interesting, you don’t look much like a girl.” The other one shrugged and chuckled. Suddenly a loud THWACK was heard as their mother came up from behind them, smacking them in the back of the head. 

“You two! That wasn’t very polite of you!” Mrs. Weasley scolded them while pointing her finger back and forth at them, “now board the train! It leaves in a- wait where are Ron and Harry?” And with that she was onto worrying about her other child. Fred and George looked at each other and then to you, sighed, then shrugged. “Well, let’s get on board. Ready Réaltín girl?” 

Y/n had such a bewildered look on her face, not quite sure what just happened. “Y-yes, I suppose so.” She quietly followed after Fred and George, still not really sure who they were, but they seemed to have heard of her before. It was most likely due to her father being the head of one of the departments in the Ministry of Magic. Y/n silently followed the two of them, not really sure of where to go again. She felt like a lost puppy just hoping for some guidance. So she opted to continue following the twins, as they hadn’t shooed her away. 

“You can sit with us if you’d like to. We’re just looking for our friend Lee!” One of the twins said quite loudly without turning around. Y/n still had no idea who was who, but she decided that was a problem for later. As they walked down the train, Y/n peeked in on various compartments full of students of all ages. However, one student in particular caught her attention when he shoved past the three of them. “Damn Weasleys, out of my way,” scoffed a platinum blonde haired boy as he briskly walked by, making sure to bump his shoulder into both of the twins on his way by. 

“Oh well, excuse us, daddy’s boy,” Fred said with sarcastic amusement. George burst out laughing as the blonde gave a sneer back at them, mocking what Fred said. “That’s Draco Malfoy,” one of them leaned over to Y/n’s ear to loudly whisper. 

Not too long after, they found the compartment their friend was sitting in. “Lee! Look who we brought. A Réaltín!” The twin to the left of Y/n announced with excitement. She still had no idea why it was such a big deal. 

tbc...

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Hari Kondabolu did the first post-John Oliver Bugle episode, in October 2016. It was so fucking awkward. I don’t know why they started with that guest. Nish Kumar did the next episode, and that one went much more smoothly. The show was trying to prove it could still work after losing the force that had driven it for years, which was the best chemistry I’ve ever heard in comedy, between John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman. They could have started with a Nish Kumar episode – Nish immediately made it clear that for years, he’d been a huge fan of the original Bugle podcast, and of both John and Andy individually. John and Andy were both big influences on Nish’s comedy, the original run of The Bugle was a big influence on Nish Kumar’s comedy, and by 2016, Nish had developed both a personal friendship and a professional relationship with Andy Zaltzman, having worked with him in some live shows. He came out of the gate in his first episode spouting off running jokes from the original run of The Bugle, a way to reassure listeners that the thing they originally came for had not been forgotten, and the tradition was being carried on by people who were familiar with it.

So they could have made that the first episode of their 4000-series. But they didn’t. They made that the second episode, and they started with Hari Kondabolu, a man whom I’m almost sure had never met Andy Zaltzman before, had probably never communicated with him besides to set up that episode. He’d definitely never listened to The Bugle before. My best guess is he got recommended by John Oliver and they wanted to show that the podcast would still be international by starting with an American guest.

The interactions in that episode were not natural. Hari Kondabolu sounded like he had no idea what he’d signed up for. Andy Zaltzman sounded as though he had no ability to convince the listeners this could work post-Oliver, as he hadn’t managed to convince himself, and all the energy he might have used to try to convince anyone had to instead go into the difficult task of talking to a person he didn’t know. Andy Zaltzman often makes it sound like the task of talking to a person he doesn’t know requires Herculean effort, which makes his choice of profession surprising. I mean no offense, as talking to strangers is also a Herculean effort for me, but I did not choose to become a professional podcasting comedian. To be fair, Andy didn’t plan to be the host of a podcast with a rotating cast of guests from different countries either. He planned to do a double act with his close friend, but then Ricky Gervais recommended John Oliver to Jon Stewart when The Daily Show was looking for a new British correspondent, and plans had to change. Which is unfortunate, as it always is when plans change. I am a big fan of John Oliver’s work with The Daily Show, and I think Last Week Tonight is a well made and important piece of American media, but I also have such a powerful hatred for the concept of plans changing that I’m not sure they were worth it.

Anyway. This post wasn’t meant to be about that. This post is about how much I love the evolution of Hari Kondabolu on The Bugle over the years that followed 2016. As of when I write this (when the most recent episode that’s aired was 4266, and the post-Oliver episodes started at 4001), he’s their fourth most frequent guest, after Alice Fraser, Nish Kumar, and Anuvab Pal.

Over his episodes, you could hear him slowly figure out what he’d signed up for, and start playing into that. He and Andy even developed their own running joke, where at the beginning of all Hari’s episodes, Andy asks him how he’s doing, and he replies with an increasingly elaborate variation on “I’m an American after 2016, obviously it’s going fucking terribly, why do you keep asking me that question?” It helped that he sometimes got paired with other guests he already knew, and/or at least guests who are easier to figure out than Andy Zaltzman.

At some point I worked out that I had actually heard of Hari Kondabolu before getting into The Bugle, though I hadn’t remembered his name. I’d heard him interviewed on The Daily Show once, about the documentary he’d made about The Simpson, called The Problem with Apu. A 2017 documentary about growing up in America when he came from an Indian family, and there was hardly any South Asian representation on American TV besides the racist caricature Apu. A documentary I’ve now seen, it’s very well done and worth watching, and people should know that he’s said repeatedly on The Bugle that he no longer gets royalties from it but wants the message out there so he encourages people to pirate it.

I also got into his stand-up off the back of his Bugle appearances, first adding clips of him to the things I’d look up when having a night of clicking through stand-up clips on YouTube, and then finding his Netflix special, which is also good and people should watch it. He’s also got a new comedy special, from 2023, available for free on YouTube that I really enjoyed.

As far as I can tell, Andy Zaltzman has three different types of dynamics with people when he works with them. 1) Really strong chemistry where they clearly understand each other and play off each other easily: this one’s very rare and seems to only happen with people he knows well, but doesn’t even happen with all people he knows well – John Oliver, Mark Steel, Chris Addison, he gets there a little with Nish Kumar and Alice Fraser but even then there’s a bit missing. 2) He tries to force natural chemistry when it clearly isn’t there: this is stilted and normally not very successful on any level. 3) He just lets the lack of chemistry happen, and the awkwardness itself becomes part of what’s funny.

Over a bunch of years, I have really enjoyed hearing the relationship between Andy Zaltzman and Hari Kondabolu change from #2 to #3. They’re so different in their styles and approaches, and you can hear them enjoy each other’s material almost in spite of themselves, not have many ways to play off it that don’t require a stretching of their own persona, but they manage.

The above audio is a collection of Hari Kondabolu’s contributions to Bugle episode 4202, from October 2022. It’s only fair to Hari if I clarify that this isn’t everything he said during the whole episode – he did come in with some actual prepared material that he recited and some of it was quite funny. Not all of it was just him doing an exaggerated version of “phoning it in”.

But for some reason, he showed up to that particular podcast recording deciding he didn’t really give one fuck about anything, and would occasionally pipe up with comments to that effect. It’s such a fun contrast to his first episode six years earlier, when the awkwardness came from him not knowing what he was doing. Now, it’s still doesn’t run smoothly, but the lack of smoothness comes from him being so comfortable on The Bugle that he can just turn up and do this. Just jump in with Andy Zaltzman and Nish Kumar, be upfront about the various ways in which he naturally clashes with parts of what they do, not mind, let that be part of what’s funny. The clash can be very funny.

[iratesherlock]

* ENOLA HOLMES / ENGLISH / 2H 3M / 2020

— Henry Cavill as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson does not appear. — Millie Bobby Brown as Enola Holmes, Helena Bonham Carter as Eudoria Holmes, Sam Claflin as Mycroft Holmes, and Louis Partridge as Tewkesbury. — Directed by Harry Bradbeer and distributed by Netflix. — Favorite Quality: I loved Enola more than I was expecting to, Millie did a fantastic job in this role.

I will begin by admitting that I may be slightly biased in my review, as I don’t like Henry Cavill. I will not be overly negative concerning his portrayal of Sherlock (as he did an okay job), but I wanted to say it to be as honest as possible. Watching this is the third time I have attempted to get through this movie, and the only time I have ever completed it; however, I am disappointed in myself for never getting through the first half of this movie before now. The fourth wall breaking is something I do not usually enjoy, nor quirky main characters, but I absolutely loved Enola; she was so entertaining. I had a hard time watching this movie whenever Mycroft “women don’t deserve rights” Holmes and Sherlock were on screen, but whenever they disappeared, I was having the time of my life watching Enola traverse London. It did fall into the modern demand for action, which took away from the mystery; however, it did actually feel like Enola was using her intelligence to figure things out instead of fumbling into every answer without doing any work. As a lesbian, I am not overly fond of awkward teenage relationships with heterosexual couples, but God, her relationship with Tewkesbury was cute. I think I enjoyed it more than usual because they did not officially end up together, which bugs me in almost all television series and movies I watch. I liked watching them develop feelings for each other but not immediately fall into “die-for-you” love. It might also be a small note, but I appreciate the acknowledgment of choice (and force) in corsetry instead of just being demonized; it was a nice nod toward the history and discussion behind the practice. This movie was aesthetically gorgeous and fulfilled my constant demands for a film set in Victorian England that isn’t just so dark you can’t see anything. The colors were rich throughout and only suffered through the end sequence, which made sense for what was happening. The plot was interesting, and I liked how they changed tracks (in terms of the main focus) early but still managed to make everything come together satisfyingly. I will be honest and say I just could not stand Sherlock or Mycroft; I thought they were both awful and just didn’t fit the characterizations (well, maybe Mycroft did), and I often got so mad when they were on screen I was tempted to fast forward through their parts. I don’t know if we were supposed to come to love Sherlock, but I just felt he was continuously awful and did very little to aid Enola throughout the movie. Mycroft, I just wanted to push him into a puddle and beat him with a blunt object. I think I was supposed to feel that way about him, so I’m not upset; I just felt like I shouldn’t have hated Sherlock as much as I did. That was just a high-class British man with an ego and nothing underneath; at the end of the movie, I still wasn’t sure if he even cared about Enola as much as they wanted me to believe he did. The acting was not bad; I just think I did not enjoy how he was portrayed. Despite those complaints, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie and started the sequel immediately after finishing it because I wanted to watch more of Enola. As a Sherlock adaptation, I don’t think it holds up as Sherlock Holmes was unbearable, but as an adjacent media, it was one of my favorites. I haven’t cried because I felt as helpless as the characters in so long, Enola’s experiences made me so emotional throughout that I just loved her. Finally, I am proud to announce I will now be the Holmes’ stepmother because I will marry their mother if it’s the last thing I ever do. The women in this movie were all fantastic; I loved them all.

[itwas50yearsagotoday]

Happy New Year 2024!!

1/1/24: So here we are, the last New Year of this blog. I do intend to carry on after my 50th birthday in a couple weeks, but not after a long break... I've been doing this for free for six and a half years and I have other things I need to attend to. Regarding 1974, it's kind of a lousy year for both Pop and Rock... I think the Boomers just kinda gave up thinking and gave in to the lounge life, getting high, drunk, and everything in between... sort of a Disco mentality before Disco. Interestingly, it was quite the opposite year for film, with some of the greatest movies ever made coming out in 1974 (Blazing Saddles, Chinatown, Godfather Part II, etc.). Anyway, the MUSIC... like I said everyone seemed to be coasting: Zeppelin took a year off, as did The Who and Pink Floyd; the Stones put out maybe their first 'meh' record since the mid-1960s (when record companies were breaking up their records for maximum profit). McCartney was still riding high with Band on the Run, as was Black Sabbath with Sabbath, Bloody Sabbath... Prog in the UK was dying a prolonged death (whose sound began spawning imitators over in this hemisphere, most of which sucked pretty hard) as Yes would put out a lousy record and EL&P took three years off. The best stuff came from a lot of second tier artists: Blue Oyster Cult, Aerosmith, Grateful Dead, Joni Mitchell, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Queen, Roxy Music, Steely Dan, Neil Young, David Bowie (his last as Ziggy), ELO, and Budgie. Perhaps the best album of 1974 belongs to the British Prog-ish group Supertramp, whose third album Crime of the Century most certainly drew Dark Side of the Moon comparisons... a must listen, if you listen to anything from this year at all. Second best: BOC's Secret Treaties. Third best: Steely Dan's Pretzel Logic (not as good as Countdown but still excellent). Fourth best: Aerosmith Get Your Wings. Alex Chilton of Big Star would have quite a productive year as well, releasing one Big Star record (we'll do it) and creating tunes for another (that wouldn't be released until 1978). Some of the new kids on the block include: Rush, although this is before Neil Peart joins for their second album on drums and lyrics, so here you are dealing with mostly a Canadian Zeppelin copycat band (although 'Working Man' and 'In the Mood' are bona-fide Rock Classics); Bad Company, which is basically Free reborn with better production and was the first non-Zeppelin band on Swan Song records... tis okay; Kiss, whose legend speaks for itself; and the bassist for the Stones, Bill Wyman, with a surprisingly excellent solo debut, Monkey Grip. Some of my favorite songs from this year include 'Doraville' by the Atlanta Rhythm Section, 'In For the Kill' by Budgie, 'Dreamer' by Supertramp, 'Fingerprint File' by the Stones, 'Astral Man' by Nektar, '(theme from) Death Wish' by Herbie Hancock, and 'Feel Good' by Fancy (whose instrumental bridge was used on many '80s rap samples)... kind of a mish-mosh, eh? Perhaps the worst offender of 1974 was 'The Night Chicago Died' by Paper Lace... P.U.!!!... recommend you watch YouTuber Todd In the Shadows' take on this tune; 'You're Having My Baby' by Paul Anka is a close second in disgraceful tunes. This year we hear perhaps the first true Disco singles, including 'The Hustle' by Van McCoy, 'Pick Up the Pieces' by the Average White Band, 'Machine Gun' by the Commodores, and 'TSOP' by MFSB. Also, more proto-Punk and just overall weirdness by the likes of the New York Dolls, Sparks, and the Residents. I could go on and on... it's like the malaise President Jimmy Carter spoke about later in the decade kinda starts here, particularly with the economy (first real recession since late 1950s) and politics (see: Nixon, Richard... Watergate). The year also spawns some of the most ridiculous fashion of the era, as well as very long hair for mainstream men and mustaches... lots of mustaches, which men really hadn't worn stylishly since the late 1940s (even then they were very thin... see Walt Disney). Okay out of space... enjoy!

[causeiwanttoandican]

Robert Lacey excerpt

I fully expect them to say William was the one commenting about the baby’s skin color after this. Battle stations! Book excerpt

The Times

Prince William ‘split his household from Prince Harry after Meghan bullying claims’

June 07 2021, 7.00am BST

‘So, are you saying,” asked Oprah Winfrey, talking to Meghan and Harry in their famous interview of March 2021, “that there were hints of jealousy?”

She was inquiring about the Sussexes’s wildly successful tour of Australia and the South Pacific of late October 2018, and the couple shifted uncomfortably in their plush wicker chairs.

“Look,” replied Harry, “I just wish that we would all learn from the past.”

By bringing up “the past”, the prince was venturing into an area that was almost taboo. He was making a sensational comparison between his mother and his wife. Harry was suggesting that Meghan had demonstrated in Australia the same massive star quality as Diana and was now having to face the family envy that went along with that.

“It really changed,” he said, “after the Australia tour, after our South Pacific tour . . . it was . . . the first time that the family got to see how incredible she is at the job. And that brought back memories.”

Memories of what? Again Harry shied away from putting words to the almost unmentionable. But Oprah had prepared and polished this moment, like so many others in the interview, and she had a reference ready to prompt her prince’s revelation. The latest, fourth season of TV’s The Crown had depicted Charles and Diana’s 1983 tour of Australia, showing how Diana had been “bedazzling” in her ability “to connect with people”. Episode six had depicted how the crowds would groan when they realised that Charles, not Diana, was walking down their side of the street — hence the beginnings of the “jealousy” on the family’s part.

“So is that what you’re talking about?” asked Oprah. “It brought back memories of that?”

“Yeah,” Harry finally replied in a fashion that was both dismal and unmistakably aggressive.

What on earth had happened, viewers had to wonder, to the old and once-familiar happy side of Prince Harry?

When trying to define the moment that marked the decisive rift with his brother William — the break-up and actual separation of the joint household they had established together in 2009 — Harry would fix upon his triumphant return with Meghan from their Australian tour at the end of October 2018. But if asked the same question, William would have fixed on a more specific event: the explosive argument he had had with his brother earlier that month.

Both brothers agreed how bitterly they had clashed back in the early days over William’s attempt to slow Harry’s courtship of Meghan — “Don’t feel like you need to rush this . . . ” But both of them had subsequently moved on. Harry’s transparent contentment with Meghan had relaxed the tensions, give or take the odd row over bridesmaids’ dresses. The “no speaks” had eased just a little by the time “best man” William escorted his brother down the aisle in May 2018.

Then five months later came the conclusive and determining rupture — the division that has lasted to the present day — though here the brothers’ retelling of history diverged. As Harry explained it to Oprah, Meghan’s Australian tour success sowed the jealousies that caused feelings to “change”. According to this scenario, William and Kate resented the Diana-like popularity that was generated by Harry’s wife. William had a different recollection.

We now know that Princes William and Harry were no longer on speaking terms before the Sussexes set off for Australia. Feelings had already “changed”, as Harry put it, and drastically so. The brothers had parted on extremely poor terms, with the trouble centring on Meghan’s stringent treatment and alleged bullying of her staff.

Most Kensington Palace courtiers were noted for the comparatively long tenures of their comfortable and prestigious jobs. But it came to look as if employees could not wait to escape service with Harry and Meghan. Those who left formed themselves into an informal fraternity that they titled the “Sussex Survivors’ Club”. They had finally hit back, and their organising agent had been PR man Jason Knauf.

The joint communications secretary for Kensington Palace — who was still, at that date, working on behalf of both of the brothers and their wives — had become concerned by the numerous stories of mistreatment being brought to him by colleagues whom he knew well and trusted.

Texas-born and New Zealand-educated, Knauf, 34, was a popular character in Kensington Palace, widely noted for his friendliness and loyalty towards his colleagues. He had been considered a real “catch” when the brothers snared him from the Royal Bank of Scotland in 2015, and one of his concerns was that professional management practices should be more effectively enforced inside the traditional British palace. Knauf’s American sensibilities caused him to see the Meghan situation as raising principles of human resources management in the palace system that needed to be formally addressed.

Knauf’s first priority was to set down the facts, as he saw them, for the record: “I’m very concerned,” he emailed to William’s private secretary Simon Case, in a document he drafted in October 2018, “that the duchess was able to bully two PAs out of the household in the past year.”

Knauf described Meghan’s treatment of one aide as “totally unacceptable . . . the duchess seems intent”, he wrote, “on always having someone in her sights”. Specifying another staff member, Knauf alleged Meghan had been bullying her as well, “seeking to undermine her confidence”. His office had received “report after report”, he wrote, from people who had witnessed “unacceptable behaviour” by Meghan towards this member of staff.

“Meghan governed by fear,” claimed one courtier. “So many people said it. Nothing was ever good enough for her. [She] humiliated staff in meetings, [would] shout at them, [would] cut them off email chains — and then demand to know why they hadn’t done anything.”

As early as 2017, around the time of the couple’s engagement, according to a subsequent report in The Times, a senior aide had spoken to the couple about the difficulties caused by their treatment of staff. “It’s not my job to coddle people,” Meghan was said to have replied.

“Americans can be much more direct,” wrote the authors Omid Scobie and Carolyn Durand in defence of the duchess, “and that often doesn’t sit well in the much more refined institution of the monarchy.”

A Brit might have raised an eyebrow at Meghan’s alleged behaviour, then looked the other way. The Yank decided to act. Knauf was actually one of Meghan’s most senior advisers — her chief adviser, in fact, when it came to public relations. Earlier that year she had gone to Knauf for help when drafting the disputed letter of severance that she sent to her father. She valued his PR expertise.

Before that, Knauf had helped Harry to word the fierce anti-media statements that he had framed to try to protect Meghan from press harassment, both as his girlfriend and then as his fiancée. The PR man had taken considerable stick from some of his non-royal contacts who criticised him as being overprotective in fighting the newcomer’s corner. Like so many people in all the palaces, Knauf had started off on Meghan’s side.

But as the months went by the American’s feelings became more ambiguous, as numerous colleagues — women whom he greatly respected — continued to bring him stories of what they said they had suffered at Meghan’s hands.

“I can’t stop shaking,” one aide had told a colleague in anticipation of an encounter with Meghan. Another reported that the prospect of confrontation with the duchess had made her “feel sick”. “Emotional cruelty and manipulation”, were the words of a third, “which I guess could also be called bullying.”

The b-word featured prominently in the accounts of several, along with an even more sinister set of initials: PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder was a deeply serious condition to allege — flashbacks, nightmares and feelings of deep anxiety — but that was how one complainant said that they had felt.

Several people maintained they had been “humiliated” by the duchess, and that criticism extended to Harry as well.

“I overheard a conversation between Harry and one of his top aides,” recalled one Kensington Palace courtier. “Harry was screaming and screaming down the phone. Team Sussex was a really toxic environment. People shouting and screaming in each other’s faces.”

Shouting and screaming? PTSD? Making people feel sick? Prince William went ballistic when he heard the “dossier of distress” that Knauf had gathered. We do not know whether the communications secretary brought his allegations directly to his boss or submitted them via Simon Case. What we do know is that the prince was astonished and horrified. He was instantly furious at what he heard.

“I remember Christian Jones [William’s press secretary and later private secretary] explaining to me how the Cams [the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge] are paternalistic with their staff,” recalls one royal correspondent. “They copy the Queen in that respect with all her Christmas parties and Christmas presents to her people. They’re proud to treat their staff like family. They recognise that they don’t get paid loads of money, so they are just really nice to them. So this was a very deep clash of philosophies, with Meghan being used to a Hollywood service culture — getting exactly what she wanted whenever she wanted in that famous way that Harry said.”

William personally knew and liked all the individuals whom Knauf had named in his dossier. The prince regarded them as assets to his household — colleagues to be cherished and for whom he was responsible. Human beings. Like Knauf, the prince was appalled that his respected staff may have been put in this position.

For William, Knauf’s allegations also clarified something that the prince had long believed — that Meghan was fundamentally hostile towards the royal system, which she failed to understand as an outsider. William wondered if she had not wanted to leave from the very start — even dreaming, perhaps, that she could whisk Harry back with her to North America.

But Meghan’s lawyers and PR representatives said this was quite the wrong interpretation of their client’s thinking and behaviour in a statement that they issued to The Times early in March 2021. They denied all allegations of bullying as inaccurate and the product of what they described as a “smear campaign”. The duchess wished to fit in and be accepted, they insisted. She had left her life in North America to commit herself to her new role.

I have never met Jason Knauf. What you have just read is based upon the published accusations that Knauf set down on paper — refuted as “defamatory”, it must be stressed again, and “based on misleading and harmful information” in the view of the Duchess of Sussex’s lawyers. It also relies upon William’s personal account of these events to one of his friends who then spoke to this author.

The moment the prince heard the bullying allegations, he related to this friend, he got straight on the phone to talk to Harry — and when Harry flared up in furious defence of his wife, the elder brother persisted. Harry shut off his phone angrily, so William went to speak to him personally. The prince was horrified by what he had just been told about Meghan’s alleged behaviour, and he wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

The showdown between the two siblings was fierce and bitter. William’s pre-engagement questioning of Meghan’s suitability had been quite reasonable, in William’s opinion. His fraternal doubts had been provisional, based upon how the new recruit appeared to be. The elder brother did not really know Meghan in those early days.

But now William had seen enough of his sister-in-law to feel sure that, sadly, he did know her and that many of his reservations linked unhappily with what Knauf’s colleagues had alleged. William believed Meghan was following a plan — “agenda” was the word he used to his friend — and the accusations he had just heard were alarming. Kate, he said, had been wary of her from the start.

Meghan was undermining some precious principles of the monarchy, if she really was treating her staff in this way, and William was upset that she seemed to be stealing his beloved brother away from him. Later courtiers would coin a hashtag — #freeHarry. It was only half a joke.

“Meghan portrayed herself as the victim,” recalled one Kensington Palace staffer, “but she was the bully. People felt run over by her. They didn’t know how to handle this woman. They thought she was a complete narcissist and sociopath — basically unhinged. Which was why the pair of them were drawn to each other in the first place — both damaged goods.”

William felt deeply wounded. “Hurt” and “betrayed” were the two feelings that he described to his friend. The elder brother had always felt so protective. He had seen it as his job to look out for Harry but this was the moment the protection had to stop. At the end of the day the British crown and all it stood for with its ancient traditions, styles and values — the mission of the monarchy — had to matter more to William than his brother did.

Harry, for his part, was equally furious that William should give credence to the accusations against Meghan, and he was fiercely combative in his wife’s defence. Some sources maintain that in the heat of the argument Harry actually accused someone in the family of concepts that were “racist”. But it must be stressed that neither brother has ever confirmed that the hateful r-word was used face to face.

Only William and Harry can know what they said to each other and they have respectfully maintained their silence on that. But Harry made clear to the world in his interview with Oprah that he considered his family’s response to Meghan to have been essentially racist — using the heavily freighted code words “unconscious bias” to provide an intellectual framework for his analysis.

Where could the two brothers go after such painful and damning notions had been thrown into their debate?

We have reached the crux of the drama. What painfully unforgettable and surely unforgivable things have been said? These are not passing differences. They are two core sets of values in conflict — love versus duty — going to the very heart and deriving from the deepest beliefs and loyalties of each man. Two opposing identities butting heads. In the months following the tragic and not-obviously bridgeable rift of October 2018 between William and Harry, the younger brother solidified his belief that his family were suffering from “unconscious bias”.

William, for his part, felt just as strongly about Meghan and the need for her subversive “agenda” to be removed from the operations of the British monarchy, which she did not appear to understand or respect. He certainly wanted Meghan removed, for a start, from the hitherto harmonious joint household that he and his brother had operated together for the best part of a decade. William simply did not want her or Harry around any more.

When accounts of the rift started seeping out through the winter months that followed, it was generally assumed that the volatile Harry must have set the pace in the splitting up of the joint Kensington Palace household. He was the brother who visibly departed, stalking off to set up a new home in Windsor, with offices for himself and Meghan in Buckingham Palace.

But the reverse was the case. It was William who made the decisive move. Following his furious confrontation with his younger brother in the autumn of 2018, the prince instructed Simon Case to start the process of dividing their two households immediately. William wished to be separated from Meghan on a day-to-day basis — and that meant being separated from his brother as well.

“William,” says a friend, “threw Harry out.”

©Robert Lacey 2021 Extracted from Battle of Brothers: William, Harry and the Inside Story of a Family in Tumult by Robert Lacey, to be published by William Collins on June 24 at £9.99

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Spiderbug Siblings

Peter sighed to himself struggling not to pout as he sat through the meeting. He was continuously reminding himself that he was the one that begged his father to bring him along, but he didn't think it was going to be this boring. Usually he was more than happy to take over different things at SI to give his father a break, such as paper work and meetings his dad really-really didn't want to go to. However this meeting had sucked his soul out ten minutes in. He missed the glances he was getting from said father, who had noticed his son's complete and utter boredom. 

Tony struggled not to smirk as his son deflated. He had warned him that this meeting was the worst one he'd ever been to. Tony discreetly moved his hands under the table, flicking his right wrist causing a holographic keyboard to appear on his forearm. He quickly typed out a message before sending it to Peter.

Peter's wristwatch vibrated softly, alerting him to the message. He moved his left arm under the table before flicking it allowing the message to appear across his arm. 

'Kiddo, go ahead and stand up saying this in french. "Ladies, Gentlemen, I hate to cut this short but unfortunately I have another meeting to get to. My father however will be remaining behind, I sincerely hope our business deal goes through." Then go have some fun, I know you're dying inside right now so go.' 

Peter closed his eyes smiling softly before giving his father a barely noticeable nod, standing up and apologizing in French. He shook a few people's hands before giving them a bright smile and a nod to his dad, turning and leaving the room.

"Je me suis demandé quand il allait enfin s'ennuyer.(1)" One of the women said, turning to Tony with a teasing smile, causing him to burst into laughter. 

Peter was more than happy to strip out of the suit and into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt with a silly science meme, his black converse and a green hoodie. He had planned to go check out the young man that applied to MIT and the Stark Industries Internship Program after the meeting, however he thought now would be better than ever. Peter knew that after a quick talk with the Principal he'd be allowed to sit in on the class in the back unannounced to see Max Kanté in action. He ran a hand through his hair before checking his phone's battery life, satisfied that it was at seventy-eight percent. His Stark watch was at sixty-five percent as well, so he knew that he'd only have to charge them once he got back to Le Grand Paris. Pulling out the file on Max, he decided that walking to Lycée Françoise Dupont would be rather relaxing and give him the time to stretch his legs. Plus if his calculations were right, which they usually always were, he'd be there by lunch time. Giving him enough time to talk with the Principal and the man's teacher, then find a place to sit in the back. While leaving the luxury hotel he put on his Edith sunglasses watching as directions to the school popped up, then pulled his hood up, and placed his Stark buds in. He left giving little more than a glance to the paparazzi planted firm outside, he knew they'd be waiting to get pictures of his father or him, after all their pictures sold for big bucks. He fidgeted nervously with his sunglasses until he was finally out of the paparazzi's sight. Letting out a breath he took out his phone hitting play on his album filled with Ella Fitzgerald music. He relaxed listening to it allowing the glasses to guide him through Paris. 'I really need to convince dad to market these. After the failure that Google created people would be skeptical, but having the Stark logo on it would cause many to trust them.' Peter thought about it drawing up blueprints in his head as he walked not paying attention to the outside world. Definitely not noticing the car heading towards him as he crossed the street heading to the school, until his senses started screaming at him.

"Monsieur, soyez prudent!(2)" Marinette cried out as she ran towards Peter tackling him back onto the sidewalk, his hood dropping and his sunglasses flying off his face. The car honked loudly as it skidded to a stop. Both teens turned to it wide eyed and apologizing profusely, in near panic attack states which ended up with the driver worried for them. They waved him on both stating that they were fine and just in a little bit of shock as they sat side by side on the sidewalk.

"Thank you." Peter said after a few moments of them just taking deep breaths together. Marinette looked up at him, blue-grey eyes meeting toffee brown eyes, before she glanced away. She picked up his sunglasses holding them out to him with a tired smile.

"English, yes? You're quite far from home are you not Mister? After all your accent is clearly not British so I'm assuming the States, not the south though I'm thinking from the north maybe the east?" Peter blinked in surprise, finally taking in the young woman that had saved him. Marinette was side sitting leaning against the light pole next to her. Midnight black hair was pulled into a long fishtail braid that went past her waist, Peter knew that once out of the braid her hair would be even longer. Her clothes were designer, M.D. specifically, something that would cause his dad slight annoyance since the designer still hadn't gotten back to him. She wore a soft pink cold shoulder tunic sweater, with black jeans that were loose enough for full mobility but tight enough not to sag or get caught on anything. She had a black and pink backpack on and a small matching purse, both clearly made by M.D. as well. He smiled politely, taking his sunglasses back and carefully sliding them into his pocket. 

"Yes I'm from the States. New York to be specific but I've traveled all over. You speak English?" He asked before adjusting his position sitting criss-cross in front of her. Marinette laughed softly nodding.

"I have learned a few languages, French is obviously my first, English was my fourth and hardest to learn!" She exclaimed, rolling her eyes and throwing her arms up in exasperation. Peter laughed loudly nodding his head with a slight smirk.

"Ah yes, English is hard and weird. For instance read and lead rhyme, and read and lead rhyme. But read and lead don't rhyme, and neither do read and lead!" Peter said his smirk grew when Marinette groaned glaring at him before punching him softly in the arm. "Sorry, sorry I had to do it." Peter said rubbing his arm as they settled down. Marinette simply rolled her eyes shaking her head. "But seriously thank you, not many people would risk themselves to save another. You're amazing Miss." Marinette gave him a sad smile not meeting his eyes anymore.

"Well, I'm afraid not many people think that about me. Besides it was the right thing to do, I couldn't just let you get hit when I could do something." Suddenly her purse shifted slightly almost like something inside was moving to press closer to the girl. Peter just barely noticed it, but could tell the girl took note of it right away. She stood up brushing the dirt off her pants, and Peter followed her up. "I'm afraid I must go, we've already spent quite a bit of time sitting here and if I want something to eat before my next class I must go. Au revoir Monsieur." Marinette turned heading down the street to a cafe, Peter turned watching her go but not moving.

"Wait!" He called out quickly shocking himself and the girl as she turned around curiously. "What's your name?" He asked, blinking when a mischievous smile covered the girls face.

"My name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, and I'll see you around." Peter's eyes widened and a burst of laughter left him causing the girls eyes to alight with mischief. "I'll see you around Monsieur." She said before continuing on, Peter watching her as she leaves. He resisted jumping when Karen talked to him over his Stark buds.

"That was a meme was it not? Searching the web for it, oh. I understand that, that was very funny, yes? After all I believe this is what one would call a 'crack' fic." Peter held back his laughter as he crossed the street continuing to the school. He really hoped he'd see the girl again, he knew his dad would love her. He himself already felt a connection to the girl that had saved his life. He walked into the school heading to the office. He greeted the office secretary explaining why he was there and asking to talk with the Principal Damocles and Mr. Kanté's teacher Ms. Bustier. The secretary was quick to let him in and summon Bustier to the office. Peter took the time to explain to Principal Damocles that he simply wished to sit in the back of the class and observe the young man. Damocles was quick to please Peter, and it didn't escape his notice causing his opinion of the Principal to drop. He was quick to introduce himself when Bustier arrived, but allowed Damocles to explain what was going on. Ms. Bustier quickly agreed before escorting Peter back to her class room, telling him all about her class. He barely paid attention however once he realized that she was attempting to take complete credit for her students accomplishments. That was until she mentioned her 'bad egg' at least in her opinion.

"I just don't know what happened, Marinette used to be such a good student. She was the class role model, and everyone would go to her when they needed help. Then out of nowhere she just started bullying this girl that joined my class! She told me the girl was faking everything no matter how much I told her that the girl's condition was no excuse to treat her like that. I kept trying to get her on the right path but couldn't. Now she just sits in the back of the class and no one will talk to her. I've even had to exclude her from class outings because she still won't leave the girl alone! Honestly I always told her that no one will get better if you don't give them chances. Lila won't become a better person if Marinette continues to target and try to expose her. I'm just glad that Adrien is on my side and agrees." Peter frowned, giving the teacher's back a dirty look as he took in what she said, piecing a few things together. 'So this student is a pathological liar, but they're covering for her with some lying condition. Marinette, who was the designated role model, caught on and tried to expose her. However, Bustier and Adrien don't agree so they allow her to be excluded. Wow, I really hope Mr. Kanté does not fall for the lies. I'd hate for his intelligence to go to waste. After all not everyone can create a highly-functional robot, that manages to develop emotions on its own. Falling for lies is something that would hurt him incredibly in the eyes of SI.' Peter smiled politely when the teacher turned to him once they arrived at the door.

"Would you like a seat at the front Mr. Stark?" Bustier asked as she opened the door walking in with him behind her, Peter shook his head as he took in the room. "We only have two seats open one in the front and one in the back." Bustier finished turning and watching Peter look around the room.

"No," he said, not missing as she tensed up slightly. "I need to be able to observe Mr. Kanté. If I sit in the front everyone will notice me turned to look at him. I'll take the back seat, where does he sit now?" Bustier glanced at the spot at the front where Chloe Bourgeois used to sit, and then the one in back by Marinette.

"Are you sure Mr. Stark? Unfortunately the one in the back is by my problem student and I'd rather you not get a bad impression of the class because of her." Peter gave her a tight smile as she rambled on about why it would be better for him to sit in the front. He let out a sigh as she continued on, and wished his father was with him. Knowing Tony wouldn't care about being rude to the women, where Peter himself couldn't pull the courage up.

"Yes Ms. Bustier I am positive. I will take the seat in the back, now please tell me where Mr. Kanté sits and then where my seat will be." Bustier sighed knowing that she wouldn't win this one, she had hoped she could convince him to sit there. That way he could see the entirety of the class and they would see him, the class would also know to behave themselves. They won't pay much attention to him when they walk in and he is sitting in the back. 

"Very well, Max sits on the left side, third row and closest to the window. Your seat will be on the right side, last row and next to the wall. Peter nodded before thanking her and walking up to his temporary seat, sitting down and pulling out his phone. "Lunch ends in twenty minutes so the classroom will slowly start filling up." He gave her a smile showing that he heard her before returning to his phone. He pulled up his group chat with Shuri, MJ, and Ned, knowing that it was almost seven am in New York, and that Shuri only slept when forced to. He smiled reading the argument between Ned and MJ.

Guy in the Chair- I don't want to eat at Veselka after school today! I want to eat at Lil' Frankie's!

MJ- I can almost hear you whining through my phone screen. Send me a picture of the face you're making, I want to add it to my sketch book.

Guy in the Chair- Seriously MJ?

Guy in the Chair-  I'm not sending you a picture of my face.

Princess Memes a lot- You Americans are so silly. Here MJ.

Image.pn

Guy in the Chair-...

Guy in the Chair- Seriously?

Guy in the Chair- Did you seriously hack my phone to send her a picture of me?

Princess Memes a lot- Hack is such a strong word, I simply introduced my computer to your phone's systems.

Guy in the Chair- I hate this. I can't do anything in retaliation, chemistry is what I'm good at not technology. I can't get revenge. Peter help me bro!

Peter-man- Sorry Ned, I'm not going up against Shuri. She is scary smart, and I'd rather live to see Captain America and his group of runaways finally realize all the changes we've made to the Accords.

Princess Memes a lot- Listen to my favorite colonizer Nedy-boy.

Peter-man- Awe, I'm your favorite colonizer? I thought for sure it would be my Dad.

Princess Memes a lot- Oh no, I do love you father. You and him are some of the only people that can give me a challenge. On top of that he got so excited when he discovered I was smarter than him, I thought for sure he'd want to adopt me.

Peter-man- Oh dad did, however you're a Princess and dad knows his money would get him nowhere in Wakanda. Instead he has settled for us being friends, that way he can subtly drop hints to invite you over for some science time.

Peter-man- I'll talk with you all later have a good day in classes MJ, Ned. And Shuri please get some sleep, I'd rather your brother not blame us for keeping you up again.

Guy in the Chair- Bye Peter!

MJ-middle finger emoji*

Princess Memes a lot- He can't force me to sleep if he can't find me!!

Peter- Love you too MJ and good luck with that Shuri.

Peter placed his phone down as people slowly made their way into the classroom. It was obvious to him that none even noticed him as they talked together excitedly. The volume of the class got louder until four people walked in, everyone was zeroing in on the girl hanging off the blonde's arm. Peter grimaced at her terrible hair style and decided that MJ would love to draw this girl, so he held up his phone taking a picture of her. He noticed a girl slip in behind them but his attention was stolen by the girl once again as she continued her story.

"Oh Alya! You would absolutely love New York city!! I'll have to see if Tony will allow you to come with me next time!" The girl said fairly loud her smile was bright but Peter could spot a fake smile from miles away. He'd learned that skill rather fast as he grew up, after all he needed to when his father was in one of his spirals. "Oh! I suppose I should let you know since I trust you so much! By Tony I mean Tony Stark!" She said giggling behind her hand as everyone gasped in surprise. "You see he is like a father to me! Him and his son Parker love me! We're like this!" She crossed her fingers winking at her classmates. Peter tensed fisting his hands trying to control his anger as he looked at Ms. Bustier who wouldn't not even turn around when the lie left her students lips. He watched as the students all sat down in their seats but they were all turned to the liar listening intensely. 

"Wow you're that close to Tony Stark? I just applied for his internship program a few weeks ago, I haven't heard anything yet though." Max said excitedly as he pulled out his things for class. Lila immediately zeroed in on him, her eyes gleaming.

"Oh Max! I'll send Parker a message right away and tell him all about you! You know he runs the Internship Program there! Tony asked me to but I told him I just couldn't leave Paris for good until after school! I also told him he really needs to give Parker a chance!" She glanced around worriedly before turning to Alya. "You can post this if you want, but you didn't hear it from me okay? You see guys Parker had a rough time these past couple years. He fell into the wrong group of people and started bullying, drinking, and doing drugs! It was terrible and Tony was just heartbroken! I could barely console him, he almost kicked Parker out! I convinced him to give Parker a second chance though, and he is getting better, unlike someone we know...but Tony still doesn't trust him fully, so I thought Parker would be able to prove himself if he did good with the program. Unfortunately he does struggle so I have to help him a lot, but Tony cannot know that! Their relationship is finally fixing!" Peter's anger grew even more and it took all his control not to stand up and fight the girl right there. That is when he noticed Marinette sitting besides him tense as well but glaring at the desk and not Lila. "Well hello there Ebony." He said softly startling her slightly, Marinette looked up at him in slight shock as he smiled mischievously at her. "I must say, you look very different from the Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way that I've read about." Marinette blushed embarrassed before she let out a soft giggle covering her face with her hands.

"Oh my gooood," she said, dragging out the word. "I said that thinking I would probably never see you again, and now you're sitting next to me. God I don't know if you're there, but please kill me." Peter snorted softly but both of their eyes were on Lila again as she began talking about Tony and his son 'Parker' once again. 

"Lying little squirrel." Peter mumbled glaring at the girl. "Parker Stark? Really did she even do her research? It's Peter Stark and the fact that Kanté is falling for her lies and trying to get in the easy way. This makes my decision easier." He opened the folder turning to Marinette holding out a hand. "May I borrow a pen Ms. Ebony." Marinette snorted, shaking her head and handing him a pen. He wrote denied across the paper and took a picture with his phone sending it to his dad before closing the folder and returning her pen.

"My name isn't Ebony obviously, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng." She said politely holding her hand out to shake, he shook it gently as she spoke again. "Are you a new student?" Peter chuckled smiling a little awkwardly as he shook his head.

"No I was here to observe Mr. Kanté in the classroom, ah let me introduce myself. Peter Stark, or from what the liar is calling me, Parker Stark." He rolled his eyes in exasperation, his smile still awkward. Marinette's eyes widened in slight shock as she started rambling to herself about how she tackled Tony Stark's son to the ground. Peter watched for a moment slightly amused at the woman's ramblings before squeezing her hand gently. "Listen, don't worry about it. If anything my dad would be thanking you profusely for saving me there. He wouldn't be upset, however once he hears about that little squirrel's lies. He will be more than pissed." Marinette snorted softly at his nickname for Lila; shel smirked, shaking her head. "Which by the way, can I get her full name? I want to have my lawyers here and ready with paperwork before I return to the states in five days." Her smirk grew as she pulled out a notebook and quickly wrote Lila's full name down before pausing and thinking a sadistic gleam in her eyes. Marinette turned to Peter tilting her head to the side innocently. "Tell me Parker Stark," she said using Lila's mess up causing him to laugh under his breath. "Do you happen to know Bruce Wayne or his kids?" Peter quirked an eyebrow before nodding and telling her that he was very close with Bruce's eldest son. "Well you see the little squirrel, as you call her has also lied about him and a few others." She turned back to the paper steadily making a list of all the people.

Tony and Peter Stark

The Wayne family

Lois Lane and Clark Kent

Jagged Stone

Clara Nightingale 

The Justice League

The Avengers

M.D. Clothing

The sadistic glint didn't leave her eyes as a plan formed in her head. "You see, I can get in contact with Jagged, Clara, and M.D. if you can get a hold of the others. We could sue her all at once for slander and defamation of character. If you do this I'll convince M.D. to finally take your dad on as clientele." Peter grinned at her and held out his hand, shaking hers once she grabbed his. 

"Well, my father would strangle me if I passed on an opportunity for him to finally get a M.D. suit and dress combo for him and mom. So you've got yourself a deal Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you can get Jagged, Clara, and M.D. on video chat, I can get the others. Do you think you could meet dad and me at Le Grand Paris tonight?" Marinette smirked a twinkle in her eye as Bustier called for the class's attention. Marinette rolled her, before turning to the front of the class.

"Since I am currently living at Le Grand Paris I can definitely meet you. Oh, Jagged and M.D. will be there in person. They live in Paris, Clara however is currently in Africa helping build houses, so we may be able to get her on a phone call but not video chat." Peter slumped in the chair and leaned over towards her slightly. "How about I give you a ride back then since we'll be going to the same place?" Marinette quirked an eyebrow before smiling and leaning against him getting comfortable in her seat.

"Very well Parker, I'll tell my driver I have a ride. Now don't move, you're quite comfortable." Peter snorted softly nodding before turning his eyes back on Max.

'It's a shame I was rather hopeful about him. I thought he'd be a great addition, if only he hadn't fallen for the squirrel.' He turned his gaze away and zeroed in on Bustier who was looking up at them. He could already tell that she wanted to reprimand Marinette for leaning against him. As she opened her mouth Peter sent her a sharp glare, staring her down until she looked away nervously. He sighed looking out the window in annoyance.

'Great, now I'm stuck here. At least I have Mari to keep me entertained judging by her eyes she is clearly zoned out. Something tells me she already knows what this sham of a teacher is going to be teaching today. She is smart, that is obvious, perhaps not as smart as Dad and me. Definitely not as smart as Shuri, but I'm pretty sure no one has her intelligence. She has connections too which is surprising at her age while being relatively unknown.' Peter wiggled slightly before settling down leaning against Marinette as well before closing his eyes.

Marinette waited until everyone had filed out of the class before waking Peter up. She gently shook him snorting as he looked around in confusion. His eyes finally landed on Marinette and a warm smile covered his face. She snorted again, as she packed up her stuff. 

"Maybe you should call up your driver that way we won't wait for long." Marinette said, pulling her backpack on as Peter sent out a quick message.

"Mr. Stark, before you go! I'd like to talk with you about what my student Lila said." Bustier said at the front of the classroom, flinching when Peter glared at her.

"Oh, you mean how she decided to lie about my father and me. Or maybe about how she didn't even know my name, but decided to tell everyone that I was a bullying, drunk, drug addict? Is that what you want to talk about? Or do you want to talk about how throughout her entire speech you said nothing knowing damn well that I was sitting in the back." Peter walked down the stairs, Marinette following behind him. When Bustier stepped in front of Peter stopping him from leaving Marinette grabbed his upper arm squeezing it gently. 

"Mr. Stark Lila has a condition that causes her to lie. The Principal and I decided not to inform the class because she'd never have friends if we did." Peter shook his head stepping to the side and walking around her Marinette following.

"That is no excuse Bustier. If that Alya woman posts anything that she said today. Well, lets just say it will not be pretty. Come on Marinette, as my dad says often, this person isn't worth our time." Marinette held back a laugh before nodding and walking out the door still holding his arm. She pulled out her phone with her left hand and typed out a few quick texts. Smiling gently when she got responses, she leaned her head on his shoulder before slipping her phone into her purse. Waiting until Tikki tugged it gently signaling that Marinette could safely release her phone. They stood together at the entrance to the school until a Mercedes Benz pulled up and the driver got out opening the door for them. Peter helped Marinette in before climbing in himself, he laughed grinning at her shocked face. She glared slightly before turning her attention back on to the tablets built into the driver and passenger seats.

"Did you buy them like this?" She asked curiously, slipping her backpack off and putting it down by her feet, buckling up afterwards. Peter shook his head, grin not leaving his face as he buckled up.

"Nope, Dad and I tore it apart and built it together. It's fun bonding time ya know." Marinette smiled sadly glancing out the window looking at the now closed bakery. Her thoughts drifted to before everything happened, when her parents were happy and in love, and still wanted her. Her gaze left the building as the driver pulled into traffic.

"I used to bake with my parents all the time. We ran a bakery, Maman would spend time cooking with me, and Papa and I always played video games together. Every night until, we played every night." Peter's eyes widened and he reached out taking her hand and squeezing it. Marinette blinked looking down at his hand before turning hers and squeezing his hand back. They just sat silently for a while enjoying being together with the other. Neither teen knew why they were inexplicably drawn to each other. In the span of a few hours they were closer than normal, and barely knew each other. This didn't scare either of them though, it felt so natural for them to seek slight comfort with the other. To just be able to sit together and feel like nothing could go wrong. Marinette leaned against him resting her head on his shoulder closing her eyes.

"What happened to your parents?" Peter asked after a while moving to rest his head on top of hers when she tensed up. "You don't have to talk about it? I've just found that it's better to get things off your chest and out instead of letting it linger." Marinette huffed a slight smile taking over her face before disappearing.

"My parents got a divorce two months ago. They had been acting for so long that they were still in love, but had grown to hate each other. In turn that meant they started to hate me, I reminded them too much of the other. So neither of them wanted me, my mother left Paris returning to China. My father decided to go to Italy to stay with his extended family. I was left behind, my honorary Uncle took me in till I turned seventeen." Marinette used her free hand to gently wipe her tears away. She squeezed his hand taking a deep breath. "They left me with nothing but 'good luck'. I stayed with my Godmother for a while but I couldn't sleep on the couch. Then my Uncle offered to stay in Paris with me until my seventeenth birthday. After that I'm technically on my own, I have some money saved up so I could get a small apartment, not in Paris though."  Peter brushed his thumb against her knuckles thinking to himself.

"So you're only sixteen? I'm seventeen." He said attempting to change the conversation, and from the giggle Marinette let out, she knew what he was trying to do. "What do you want to do when you graduate? I mean I'm just curious is all you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Like most people like talking about it but I know some don't, but uh, I'm going to be working at SI. Oh and I am already taking college classes online from MIT!" Peter rambled on causing Marinette to laugh and his driver to cough in an attempt to hide his own chuckles.

"I want to go into fashion. I've always been in love with it, and want to have it in my future." Marinette smiled, patting his arm to calm him down. "I've even won a few design competitions, although thanks to Gabriel being unmasked as a supervillain my most distinguished one is gonna be crossed off." Peter raised an eyebrow before connecting the dots with Hawkmoth and the Agreste companies fall. 

"I have to ask this after sitting through that god awful class. Do you even like that school?" Marinette groaned, shaking her head slightly. "Because I did notice you zone out in the class." Marinette snorted before nodding.

"See I finished everything online and my plan was to graduate early. However Bustier and Damocles wouldn't allow it, they told me I need my parents signature not my temporary guardian's. So I am stuck there until the end of the year. Especially since I don't have parents, so no one can sign. Child Services won't let my uncle adopt me, apparently he isn't a good role model. Which is kind of funny since he took me in when my parents just abandoned me." She was silent for a while thinking about her situation and Peter did not like silence on the girl. 

"Is that how you know M.D. through design competitions?" Peter asked, causing Marinette to laugh softly, wondering how to tell him that she was M.D. "I mean I just noticed that your entire outfit, plus backpack and purse are both M.D. and obviously exclusives." Marinette shook her head as they pulled up outside the luxury hotel, both unbuckling and getting out when the driver opened the door. Marinette adjusted her back back walking up the steps.

"No actually, I've known M.D. my entire life. Now what's your hotel room? Jagged needs to know to meet us there, come on Parker don't leave me hanging." Peter glared playfully at Marinette before telling her their room number. She texted it to Jagged, nodding to the receptionist that greeted her, welcoming her back. "Mister Franco is always so nice, he has worked here for years now. To be honest I'm pretty sure he never takes a day off, he really loves his job." Peter nodded smiling at Franco, before stepping into the elevator with Marinette pressing the button to his floor. "Have you alerted the others to the video chat?" She asked looking up from her phone, meeting Peter's amused eyes. He nodded watching as she slipped her phone into her purse, he noted her pause before letting it drop completely. At first he chalked it up to her making sure the phone was actually in the purse, but then he remembered watching it move earlier in the afternoon. 'Is she keeping a pet in her purse?' He pondered silently as they stepped off the elevator onto his floor. He pulled out his card and opened the door, to be greeted with the amusing sight of his father and Jagged opposite ends of the couch. Tony had his feet pulled up and he stared down at the crocodile lazing on the floor in front of Jagged.

"Ah, Petey, Peter, my son, my first born, my rock when your mothers not around, please-please, explain why we are having a video conference with Bruce Wayne, our favorite reporters Lois and Clark, a Justice League representative, Carol as an Avengers representative, and Jagged Stone and his 'rock 'n roll' crocodile pet?" Tony said, not looking away from Fang for a second. Marinette snorted and walked in further dropping her bag on the floor by the couch, then kneeling down and starting to scratch Fang in his favorite places. Making him roll onto his back, tail waving like an excited puppy. Tony blinked, watching Marinette turn Fang into a cuddly puppy in seconds before turning to look at Peter with a raised eyebrow. "Alright, tell me what this is about." Peter rolled his eyes, slipping off his jacket and kicking his shoes off walking over to stand behind Marinette. Looking down at the crocodile in puzzlement.

"I can do you one better. Karen please play the audio from the class today, starting when Miss Rossi entered the classroom. Oh and Friday can you drag up as much dirt on Lila Rossi as possible." Both AI gave confirmation causing Peter to smile as he stepped around Marinette and Fang sitting down on the couch. He introduced himself to Jagged briefly before turning back to Marinette. "Think you can type up every little lie, while I get incontact with my lawyers." Marinette nodded, the gleam back in her eyes as she pulled her laptop out of her backpack. She waited till Fang rolled back onto his stomach before leaning against him and placing her laptop on her bent legs. The next couple minutes were filled with Tony raging over what the girl said. While Peter clung to his back in an attempt to stop him from suiting up and hunting the girl down. Jagged watched the scene amused sipping on a juice box he pulled from Marinette's bag. Fang was also greatly amused and wanted to join in with the two newcomers to his family but he knew his girl was busy, so moving wasn't an option for him. Marinette ignored them the entire time up until she finished. Then she starred, amused at Tony laying on his side, a grumpy pout on his face as Peter was still wrapped around him. 

"Calm now?" She asked, her lips quirking up into a smirk as he leveled a grumpy glare at her. "Because I told Clara to call at five and it's almost time." Tony continued to be grumpy for a while before letting out a loud sigh and nodding.

"Let's get this show on the road, pinky." Marinette sent him a dry look raising an eyebrow before looking at Peter who grinned.

"That's his way of saying he likes you!" Marinette snorted before pulling out her phone before glancing back at Jagged, her eyes narrowing.

"Jagged, is that my juice box?" She asked already knowing that he was drinking the juice box from her backpack. Jagged glanced down at the juice in his hand before grinning at her.

"Well you see, I was thirsty and our hosts were obviously having a moment, and I'll buy you two more twelve packs of the juice boxes." Marinette nodded before turning her gaze off him, giving Tony her signature sunshine smile.

"Hello Mr. Stark, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I am unfortunately part of Lila Rossi's class, though at this point I'm the only one that seems to see through lies." She held her laptop out to Peter, who took it with a smile plopping down on the couch. He scrolled through the long list, Marinette had composed. "I'll be the one helping compile all the lies, you may want to make sure everything on the Ladyblog is documented. It used to be a reliable source about Paris's heros, but the reporter, um, correction tabloid writer now fell for Lila's lies." Tony nodded before telling Friday to look into the Ladyblog. A few minutes later Marinette received Clara's call, the two talked together in French until Tony had video connection with Bruce, Lois, Clark, Wonder Woman, and Carol. Everyone wondered what was going on until Peter sent them all the list of lies. Marinette placed Clara on speaker before speaking up to everyone. "A few years ago when I was still in college-ah, middle school for you American's. A girl named Lila Rossi transferred to my school, she spread lies throughout the class about famous people. I was able to see through her lies because she decided to lie about Jagged Stone. " She gestured to Jagged who waved at everyone from his spot. "She claimed that she saved his cat from getting hit by a plane and developed tinnitus from it. She also stated that Jagged Stone wrote a song about her, at the time she was thirteen. Then she claimed to be best friends with Parisian superhero, Ladybug. The hero in question shot those claims down very fast, however the girl twisted it telling everyone Ladybug was only saying that to protect her. The creator of Bugout did not believe the girl, and that is why Ladybug heavily backs her. The list Parker here sent you is every lie she has told about you, Clara I texted you the list." Peter gave Marinette a playful dirty look as Clara took over the conversation.

"Oh my, all these lies I can't believe my eyes!" Everyone looked confused at Clara's rhyming.  "I can't believe her claims, all the people she is trying to deceive, and all the names." Clara gasped on her side causing many to wish they could see here. "Oh dear! She could have ruined your careers!" Marinette smiled softly when Clara said that. "She even mentioned your alternate ID, and this simply can't go unmentioned." Everyone looked at Marinette in slight confusion causing Marinette to give them an awkward smile.

"I'm sure all of you can see that she has mentioned that she knows M.D. the new famous designer who has kept out of the public eye. Well you all are lucky enough to meet M.D. before everyone else. It's a pleasure to meet you all, I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I run M.D. Clothing." Everyone stared at her in shock for a bit before the Stark lawyers joined the video chat. At the time they began making plans to take Lila down, and Marinette was at the center of the plans. "Tony and Peter leave in five days. His lawyers will be delivering her chargers, I want this to happen all at once." Everyone noted the determined glean in Marinette's eye, it reminded Tony of Pepper and he found himself about what his wife would think of this young woman. "If everyone has at least one of their lawyers to deliver them at the same time it will destroy her. That is why I suggest we do this during the school day, right before we are set to get out." Everyone agreed with doing it in front of the entire class. It was decided that Tony's lawyers wouldn't enter first, then Bruce's,  followed by the Justice League's and the Avenger's, Jagged and Clara's would enter soon after, and then Marinette's lawyer would hand Lila her final lawsuit. After the video chats Marinette gave Peter a big hug smiling brightly as Jagged picked up her backpack and Fang's leash. "Thank you for all the help Peter!" She let go before shaking Tony's hand, her smile not slipping. "As promised, get me yours and Mrs. Stark's measurements and I will make you a M.D. suit and dress combo. I think royal blue with ivory accents will suit you both. Peter has my number, so that you can get me the information." She walked to the door Jagged and Fang following her. "Goodnight you two!" Marinette said as they stepped outside. Peter and Tony stood at the door wishing them goodnight before closing it. Tony immediately turned to Peter once it was closed, wanting an explanation for everything. Peter sat down explaining what all had happened after he left the meeting. Tony listened intently while also thinking to himself about Marinette.

"So Max Kanté is rejected for the Internship program, damn. At least we caught this girl before more lies could be spread. I can't believe she dared to claim that I would give up on my own son." Peter nodded before picking the remote on and turning on Star Wars, he placed his legs across Tony’s lap and leaned again his side for comfort.

“Ya, she is pretty stupid. Did she think no one would ever hear her lives now she has multiple people coming down on her in less than 5 days.”

“Also that Marinette girl, think I can adopt her? Like joint custody? Pep would love her, seriously together they could rule the world.”

“Well with a little money you might be able to. Her parents gave up custody of her and the government refused to let Jagged adopt her.”

Tony looked at Peter silent for a moment before nodding to himself. 

“Friday-“

“Already drawing up adoption papers Boss. Pepper has been informed and she had this to say, ‘I give up, let him adopt the girl, I’ll have her registered for online schooling.’ Shall I bribe the person that receives the papers.”

“Yes but remember, I never said yes.”

That caused Peter to burst into laughter as he pulled out his phone, sending a text to his group chat.

Peter-man- New sister on the way guys. You’re gonna love her, dad just has to bride Child services.

Princess Memes a lot- Another science genius??

Peter-man- Nope, ever heard of M.D. Clothing?

Guy in the Chair- You’re joking.

MJ- Why am I not surprised by this.

Princess Memes a lot- You met M.D. and your Father is adopting her.

Princess Memes a lot- That’s it I’m taking a vacation to Paris, I’ll be there by tomorrow Peter. Ayo will be with me, and you will introduce the two of us to your new sister.

Peter-man- Understood Princess, although don’t mention the adoption to her just yet. I think I’m going to ease her into the family dynamic with us. 

Princess Memes a lot- Very well Ayo and I will not mention a thing. I will make sure we are both dressed discreetly as well. That way we don’t have to explain why the Princess of Wakanda is in Paris.

Peter chuckled resting his head on Tony’s shoulder curling into his dad's side. Tony smiled, his eyes never wavering from the tv screen as he rubbed his son’s leg gently.

Marinette let out a content sigh as she dried her hair with a towel. She sat on a plush chair in front of a grand dollhouse that was opened so all the rooms could be seen. The Kwami say inside all talking happily, making sure that Duusu and Nooroo were comfortable. Marinette smiled down at them wrapping his hair in her towel before leaning back and looking out the window. Tikki and Plagg flew up to her causing the young woman to laugh softly. She held her hand out allowing them to sit down. “In a few days Lila will be drowning in lawsuits. I really can’t find it in myself to feel bad for her.” Plagg snorted leaning back against her fingers, while Tikki gave him a disapproving look.

“Honestly kid, all you had to do was say the word and I would’ve taken care of the brat.”

“Plagg!” Tikki said, glaring at him, causing the other Kwami to laugh softly with Marinette.

“What?! I didn’t mean kill her! I meant that I’d cut her hair into something that doesn’t look awful! Always jumping to conclusions aren’t you Sugarcube.” Tikki swatted the back of his head causing the cat goddess to fly away laughing hysterically.

“Oh leave him be Tikki. He wouldn’t dare do anything in fear of repercussions from you.” Marinette said softly, bringing Tikki closer to her face. “A few days left Tikki, I am so excited.” Tikki smiled, rubbing her thumb gently as she looked up at her chosen human, her creation soul. Tikki felt her power rise a few days ago and now she knew why. Instead of having just one and a half creation souls around her, she had three. Marinette will always be the soul that resonates with her the most but Peter is a pure creation soul. Then Jagged and Tony combined made the third, it was their pasts that caused half their souls to be that of destruction. Yet it was the fact that they still held half a creation soul that got her, yes they had a reason to be bad, yet they wouldn’t allow it. She was happy that they still held that half tightly, the only for once a human’s, that was not meant to hold Plagg, soul becomes full destruction they become the worst of the worse. Which is why Tikki was happy Lila was going down, her soul was so close to destruction it sickened Tikki. She knew that once that little bit of creation left, there would only be a monster, because she was definitely not suited to be a cat. Tikki looked over at her other half with a gentle smile knowing that they’d find Plagg’s true destruction soul soon as well.

“Princess, why are we going to Paris?” Ayo asked as she followed Shuri onto the jet. The servants following with their bags, placing them onto the plane.

“Stark is adopting a young woman.” Shuri said trying on her phone. She looked up meeting Ayo’s eyes with a slight smirk. “The girl is the M.D. herself, I simply must meet her. According to Peter they only just met her and Tony is already adopting her. Peter also seems to have formed a connection with the woman. So I must meet her, and out of all the Dora Milaje you are able to be perfectly discrete. Anyone seeing us will believe you are simply my older sister, which is what I need. Miss Marinette does not know about the adoption yet and Peter wishes to edge her in. So I will simply be seen as Peter’s friend that decided to visit, and this will keep us out of the news.” Ayo nodded moving to sit down and relax knowing that they had an hour before reaching Paris.

“Very well, I shall enjoy meeting the new Stark child.” She said, causing Shuri to grin at her with a twinkle in her eyes. “I will not enjoy keeping you and Peter out of trouble however.” She finished teasingly causing Shuri to burst into laughter, Ayo only let a slight grin cover her face.

“Oh no oh no oh no.” Marinette muttered as she ran around her room getting ready. “I can’t believe I forgot this! Oh Miss Mendeleiev is going to be so upset! She went out of her way to have me come to her class’s party instead and I’m going to be late! Tikki, Plagg! Grab the pastries please!” The two Kwami lifted one try floating it over to the table by the door before taking the other over as well.

“My bug you must calm down. You have ten minutes before the party starts, yes, but Mendeleiev said to show up at any time.” Tikki flew up with Pollen the two gently fixing the French braid Marinette had begun putting her hair into. “There is no set time you need to be there so you are fine.” A knock on the door startled the human and Kwami slightly, Marinette ushered them into hiding spots before answering the door.

“Hello? Oh Peter! Do you need something?” Peter smiled brightly fidgeting with his sunglasses, he held up two bags filled with snacks.

“I was hoping we could hang out? Dad is in a really boring meeting and if I go it’ll suck my soul out.” He said dramatics causing Marinette to laugh.

“Normally I’d love to, but I have a class party today.” She gestured to the two large trays of pastries.

“Oh, that’s fine! I’ll just help you carry the trays then go find something to do.” Peter said, picking up one of the plates. “And before you say anything, shut up, I want to help.” Marinette glared at him before picking up her purse and folding her jacket over her arm. She picked up the other tray before checking her purse making sure Tikki and Plagg were in it. “Soooo,” Peter said, dragging out the word as he waited for Marinette to lock the door. “Where am I escorting you today fair Goddess?” Peter teased causing Marinette to quirk an eyebrow as they walked toward the elevator.

“Goddess? That's a new one. Care to explain?” She asked, stepping into the elevator pressing the button for the lobby. She reached over pulling his hood up gently with one hand before grabbing his sunglasses and slipping them onto his face. “There you go Mr.Famous.” She teased softly before fixing the strap of her purse. Peter smiled shifting the bag in his hand.

“Well my first thought was princess, but it just doesn’t suit you. Queen had popped in too but that didn’t feel right either. Trust me I know princesses and Queens, and they’d definitely love you but you have an air of difference compared to them. Something that makes you stand out something kind of magical-as silly as it sounds.” Marinette shifted slightly at the mention of magical glancing down at the purse that contained the most powerful beings in existence. Something that did not go unnoticed by Peter. “So when I settled on Goddess it just felt right, of course I tried other names but none compared to Goddess. So that is your new Stark patented nickname! Property of Stark & Co., nobody else can use it without express consent from Stark CEO, Head of R&D, and CEO in training!” Marinette snorted softly stepping out of the elevator Peter followed behind her as she began to giggle.

“Alright I suppose I shall let it slip this time! Besides it is definitely better than Princess, I hate that stupid nickname.” She turned to look at him, eyes twinkling slightly. “Now make sure to stay close, don’t want to have to save you from a car accident again.” Peter laughed rolling his eyes before calling out that it only happened once.  Causing Marinette to laugh again as they started the walk to Marinette’s school.

“Oh Marinette! You’re here!!” Aurore  called out as she, Mireille, and Jean hurried to meet both her and Peter as they entered the school courtyard. “And you brought a friend!” She said hugging Marinette once Jean took the tray from her. Marinette chuckled nervously hugging the girl back before hugging Mireille as well. “Pleasure to meet you I’m Aurore, that is Mireille, the man that took Marinette’s tray is Jean. Oh and of course you’ll meet the rest of our little family in a bit!” Peter smiled at the girl pushing his sunglasses up.

“I’m Peter, it’s nice to meet you. I am not staying though I was only helping Marinette carry the trays.” He said as Claude bounced over taking the tray from him and passing it off to his sister Allegra. He grabbed Peter’s shoulder directing him towards the rest of their class, smiling goofily. Marinette rolled her eyes smiling as Allan wrapped an arm around her shoulder following behind the two. He was telling her about his most recent audition calmly but excitement was clear in his voice.

“Nonsense! My new friend!!” Claude said smiling brightly leading him to the snack table. “If you’re a friend of Marinette’s then you are more than welcome to our party! I’m Claude Renou, the blonde that took the tray is my sister Allegra Dimont! You already saw Jean, Aurore, and Mireille. Kagami is over there teaching Ondine how to hold a saber, Kagami is wearing the red and black Cheongsam,” He paused turning to Marinette with a hopeful look. “Did I say it correctly?” He beamed when Marinette nodded before turning back to Peter. “And Ondine is the young woman who is completely out of her element on land!” He teased causing Ondine to glare at him playfully before waving politely to Peter. Over there controlling the music is Marc-pretty sure his mom, like runs France’s known yet unknown mafia but he won’t tell us.” Marc shot them a playful look before turning to and beginning to eat Marinette’s cookies. “And behind us is Allan Duval! Better known as Coté Spanghero, a rising actor! Then there is our teacher the wonderful and sometimes cruel Ms. Mendeleiev.” Anne-Claire Mendeleiev turned and stared down Claude who simply grinned at her. She sighed, shaking her head before looking over at Peter.

“Ignore him, of course you are more than welcome to join us. This is our little graduation party, these kids have been my students since middle school, except for Marinette unfortunately. Though I tried to get her multiple times.” She gave him a polite smile before patting his shoulder. “Oh and please call me Anne-Claire, all my students do when they remember they are almost out of school.” Marinette pulled away from Allan with a soft smile before linking arms with Peter. Peter grinned at her leaning closer to her.

“Looks like you don’t need to find something to do.” She said laughing with him. “Now come on, Jean knows some pretty cool magic tricks!” She pulled him over and they stood watching Jean perform different card tricks. They stood together, arms still locked while Peter watched Jean and Marinette talked with Allegra both women laughing together. Peter’s attention was stolen a few minutes later by his phone going off.

Princess Memes a lot- Stark where are you and your new sister?

Princess Memes a lot-Hello? Spiderboy?

Princess Memes a lot- Very well I have already found your location, Ayo and ai are on our way.

“Ah? Will Anne-Claire be upset if my friend and her older sister crash this party?” Anne-Claire raised an eyebrow as she took a sip from her cup looking over. 

“Depends Mister Stark, are the delinquents?” Peter was surprised that she knew him and even more surprised when he noticed none of her students were surprised.

“Ah, no not at all. Since you know who I am I’ll be honest. One is royalty and the other her bodyguard acting as sister.” Anne-Claire looked slightly excited at the prospect score nodding. 

“As long as they don’t cause trouble they’re welcome here.” Peter nodded smiling brightly before responding to Shuri that they were more than welcome to join. 

“My friend will be here soon, they may be a little stand off-ish at first.” Claude laughed, shaking his head, giving Kagami a teasing smile causing the woman to raise her eyebrow, faking an unimpressed look.

“Worry not Peter! We managed to break through Kagami’s Ice Queen persona!” Allan smirked rolling his eyes before handing his drink to Allegra. He stood behind Claude mining all of his actions. This caused them all to burst into laughter while Claude simply grinned looking at them. “Well besides that! Peter I have to ask, are you following in your Dad’s footsteps as head of R&D, or will you be taking up CEO. Oh perhaps I should start with my plans. I want to work in Public Relations, I actually have an internship with Wayne Enterprises. Cool right? Everyone here is going on to amazing things actually!” Peter smiled looking at them.”Why don’t we tell him? I’m sure Marinette has already told you her plans. We might as well tell him the rest!” Allegra shook her head smiling softly.

“I’ll tell him, obviously Allan is continuing his acting career, I am going to Harvard to study Law. Kagami is taking over her family business, Ondine is already an Olympic swimmer. Aurore and Mireille are continuing their weather girl careers, Marc is on his way to becoming a famous author and Jean is continuing his figure skating career.” Peter nodded looking at all of them., rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well I am actually already working at Stark Industries, I run the Internship program. Paid and Unpaid, I decide if you are given a chance in our company. I am however in training for both CEO and head of R&D, my parents told me that it is my choice. Although neither plan to retire for quite some time!” The class plus two continued to talk happily never noticing the girl glaring at them from Ms. Bustier’s classroom. Lila knew something was up, ever since she had laid eyes on the man sitting next to Marinette. It was something about him, something that made him stand out. She looked over at her sheep all of who were too engrossed with final plans for the last class trip. These were her sheep, the people that fell in line just to stop her crocodile tears. She sat high and powerful atop her kingdom and Marinette was in her rightful place, alone and ostracized. Something told her though, that the man out there with Mendeleiev’s class was going to ruin her. She sniffed looking away again giving her sheep a fake smile. She’d simply have to destroy him first.

“This is the place.” Shuri said looking up from her phone as Ayo and her walked through the school. “Peter said the teacher they were with is fine with us being here. Apparently they are having a party. Which sounds like a lot of fun!” They finally walked into the courtyard spotting Peter and the class before walking over when Peter waved excitedly. He introduced them to the class, smiling brightly when Marinette and Shuri hit it off right away.

Over the next couple days Marinette grew closer with Peter, Tony and Shuri. Marinette showed the three around Paris with the help of her friends in Mendeleviev’s class. Tony had even promised them visits to Stark tower the summer after their graduation. Of course it wasn’t known to Marinette that she’d soon be living there. In fact they still had to break it to her that Tony’s adoption request went through. It finally came out during a move night that Tony and Peter were holding with Marinette, Shuri, Ayo, her friends, and Jagged.

“Ya know, I’m going to miss you guys.” She said softly leaning against Peter’s side holding his right hand and carefully painting his nails a navy blue. Peter tensed slightly, sharing a look with Tony. Marinette noticed immediately when Peter tensed looking up at him sharply. “What?” She asked, turning to look at the father and son duo. Peter looked at Tony knowing that his father had to tell her.

“Ah, well you see Pinky, I decided that I didn’t want to lose you. So you’re mine now.” He said not looking her in the face, attempting to hide his nervousness.

“I’m yours now?”

“Yes. Our if you want to be specific and bring Pep into this considering she’s my wife, but mine either way.”

“You do know I’m not something to be owned, correct?”

“Well yes, but you’re still mine. End of story. You’re my daughter now, which means you’re Peter’s sister.”

“You know, I should be upset about this but  honestly I really didn’t want you guys to leave. I’ve grown attached and I think Uncle has too.”

Peter smiled brightly wrapping his arms around Marinette, careful not to mess up his nails.

“We just have one last thing to do.”

“Oh?”

“Change your last name to Stark.”

Tony said, smirking as he ruffled his now daughter’s hair. It wasn’t until after the movie finished that they announced the news to the rest of their group, and the celebration was anything but quiet. The night ended with a big sleepover in the Stark’s current living room and all went to bed knowing that tomorrow was the day they took Lila off her fake throne.

Lila smirked looking at herself in the mirror taking in her makeup. Nasty fake bruises covered her face and lower neck. She looked down at her clothes to make sure they were properly ripped. She nodded before heading out, stopping before she made it to the school before starting to cry. She rushed to the school bursting into Ms. Bustier’s class immediately having attention on her. She hid a smirk before spouting her sob story. Not knowing that Peter and his father were about to walk through that door with multiple lawyers Shuri and Ayo also tagging along. The moment Peter stepped through the door Kim charged at him fire in his eyes. Ayo was quick to move, taking Kim down flawlessly in seconds. “What do you think you’re doing! Get off my student!” Ms. Bustier said standing quickly but not moving towards Ayo and Kim.

“Shut it you banshee.”Ayo growled out standing up but keeping her foot in the middle of Kim’s back. “I shall act as guard for you all.” She said after Shuri gave her a subtle nod of permission. Tony and Peter’s lawyer Ryan was the first to step forward. 

“Thank you warrior.” He said nodding in respect to Ayo before turning to the class. “I am Ryan Wilson and I am Tony and PETER Stark’s lawyer. I am looking for one Lila Rossi.” Lila sat stock still not wanting to draw any attention to her. That failed when Ayla was quick to point her out.

“She is right here! You’re here to help her after that monster attacked her earlier aren’t you? Wow! Stark works fast! Oh can I record this for my blog?” Ryan galred at both girls before walking over and placing papers on the table.

“No, you may not! Lila Rossi you’ve been served! The Stark family is suing you for slander and defamation of character as well as claiming to others that you work with them. I suggest you find a lawyer and soon.” He turned away from them and walked to Bustier’s desk placing papers on her desk. “This is for allowing and even helping your student to lie.” He stepped back ignoring the class crying out in outrage. Lila just sat staring down at the paper in horror. The horror mounting as more and more papers were added to the pile until Marinette’s delicate and manicured hand placed her own papers down. She looked up at Marinette’s blank face, tears streaming down her face as anger slowly built.

“Lila I have let you get away with a lot, all because I was supposed to be the ‘better person’. Well I am done with that flawed idea, it’s time you learned that lies have consequences.” She turned heading back over to Peter smiling brightly until she saw Tony and Peter’s eyes widened as they moved forward. LIla let out a blood curdling scream launching herself at Marinette. Marinette turned quickly but Ayo was faster than both girls and slammed Lila into the ground. She calmly turned to look at Ryan not releasing her grip from Lila. “It may be smart to call for the police.” Officer Raincomprix walked in soon after sending the teacher a disappointed look as he pulled out handcuffs.

“We are already here. Lila Rossi evidence has been discovered proving that you willingly worked with Gabriel Agreste, also known as Hawkmoth. Anything you say can and will be held against you.” He cuffed her ignoring her screams and holding the young women still as she thrashed trying to get to Marinette. Tony wrapped an arm around her shoulder as Peter linked their arms together causing Marinette to smile.

“Ready to head home, daughter of mine?” Tony said with a smirk as Marinette leaned her head against his arm. 

“Ya know, I can’t wait to see my new home. Lets go.”

I wondered when he was finally going to be bored.

Sir, be careful! 

[yuyupowers]

aristocrat!hongjoong

aristocrat!hoongjong x fem!reader headcanon

genre: fluff, angst

trigger warning(s): swearing, brief violence, mentions of unwanted sexual remarks. let me know if there’s anything else!

author’s note: this is the first time in years that i’ve written something omg 😅 😅 lemme know what you guys think!!  💕 💕

none of the pictures are mine!!

for reference, i’m using british peerage (hierarchy). there are five ranks: baron, viscount, earl (count), marquess, and duke - the highest being duke, and the lowest, baron.

second son of an earl

despite being born into wealth and nobility, i think he’d be pretty grounded and level-headed

has to do with the fact that he’s naturally empathetic and curious

leads to a bit of a rebellious streak

more or less acts according to his parents expectations before them

but often does things that would scandalize them behind their backs

one of his favourite things to do is to sneak out during the manor at night dressed in commoner’s clothes

(which are carefully hidden in the music room)

his older brother takes the brunt of parental and societal pressure to act a certain way, but that doesn’t mean joong is off the hook

aristocracy just has so many god-forsake rules and mannerisms that everyone has to follow

unless they want to disgrace their entire family and lineage

yeaaah,,,

the only places he genuinely feels free are: a) in the music room, and b) exploring the city with you

during the third or fourth time he snuck out, he visited a local tavern.

cue you working as a tavern maiden

after serving him one (1) drink, you could tell that joong wasn’t actually a “commoner”

his clothes might have been worn and cheaply made, but his mannerisms,,,just didn’t match up

he was a little too polite; held himself a little too well

not to mention the hungry gleam of curiosity in his eyes

like everything was new and he was trying to absorb as much as he could

unfortunately for him, you weren’t the only one that noticed

after one too many drinks, some brutish fellows swaggered up to him

“‘ey there pal, ya werldn’t mind ‘anding sum coins over, would ya? ‘elp a brotha out”

joong, who had become a little too brazen thanks to the alcohol, told them to fuck off and stumbled to his feet, ready for a fight

except he couldn’t stand straight

and he didn’t have his sword

not good

luckily for joong, these fellows had been pestering you for the longest time

they were unusually rowdy and loud - which was saying something cause this was a tavern for fuck’s sake

and they constantly threw lewd remarks your way

but they didn’t actually do anything or break any of the tavern’s rules, so you had to serve their drinks with your best forced smile

they didn’t even tip well

assholes

anyways, back to the situation at hand

seeing a fight about to break out - which most definitely was against the rules - you hollered for the owner

“OI, A FIGHT’S ‘BOUT TO BREAK OUT!”

cue an angry-looking, burly man (with quite the ginger beard) and a very angry bar maiden (yes, you) tossing their sorry asses out the back door

joong, who by now had stumbled back into his seat, watched the scene with his mouth agape

to be frank, he’d never seen a woman act the way you did

all the women in his life were meek and docile

like a china doll that would break with one wrong move

they needed to be shielded, protected

clearly, you didn’t need protection

not when you hauled a man twice your size out the door, getting a good sucker punch for all the times they talked about your tits and ass

Right. In. Front. Of. Your. Face.

from that day on, joong became a regular at the tavern

he was careful not to drink as much as he did on the first time, at most getting tipsy

always polite and respectful

a bit on the quieter side, but made pleasant small talk whenever you took his order or served him his drinks

several months passed like this, and you’d become quite fond of him.

definitely helped that he was easy on the eyes

then one night, when he felt a little braver than usual, he invited you on a midnight adventure after your shift

you were pretty tired ngl, but you couldn’t turn him down after seeing the hopeful glimmer in his eyes

and boy, were you glad you didn’t

you don’t think you’ve ever felt so carefree in your life

or had so much fun

racing across bridges, exploring the hidden nooks and crannies of the city

much to your chagrin, joong would buy you (expensive) snacks that you just had to try because “he wasn’t gonna let his favourite girl miss out”

you ignored the fluttery feeling in your tummy

quickly, these “midnight adventures” became a frequent thing

he’d have a drink at the tavern, wait for you to finish your shift, and then the two of you would set off

you learned a lot about joong

of course he would have his spoiled rich boy™ moments-

“what do you MEAN you’ve never tried cane sugar?!” 

“joong, not everyone gets it imported to their house”

but he genuinely just has such a good heart

always listens when you need to rant or vent

(and offers surprisingly practical advice)

never once thought of you as lesser than him for being poor or a commoner

quickly learned that you felt uncomfortable when (in your eyes) he spent too much money on you, so he made sure to be more conscientious

(also gave him a reality check. it forced him to acknowledge the things he didn’t even realize he took for granted)

tells you about all the dumb gossip he hears through the noble grapevine

“who CARES if the color of the fabric is slightly off?! i swear park has a rod up his ass-”

especially loves to tell you about the music he’s composed

even if he gets a little shy at times

cute

he just looks so happy when he talks about music. the way his gums would show when he smiles, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, the way he’d grab a stick and draw different musical notations in the dirt to show you what he meant

happiness looked good on hongjoong

he even went as far to sneak you into his music room, playing the songs he wrote

and god did he look beautiful

the way the moonlight pooled on his fingers and spilled onto the bone-white piano keys

the way he looked so at ease

the way the music breathed, lived,  jumping off the scraggly parchment paper to dance under starlight

(you think that’s the moment you started falling for him)

fast forward and the two of you have been friends for a few years now

you know everything about him, and he knows everything about you

unfortunately, the older he gets, the more responsibilities his parents hand him

meaning he can’t sneak out as often as he’d like

but he still makes sure to see you at least once a week

on one particular night, you notice that hongjoong’s been especially quiet

been particularly insistent on treating you to your favourite snacks

you mention this to him, but he brushes it off by saying he feels bad for not being able to be there for you as much as he’d like

hongjoong was a good liar (even if he didn’t like it), but you knew that he wasn’t telling you the truth

not the whole truth, at least

but you didn’t press it; he’d tell in his own time

so the two of you raced across bridges, laughter bouncing off the walled shops

exploring every nook and cranny of the city even if the two of you knew it like the back of your hands

and eventually, the two of you would lay in your favourite field on the outskirts of the city, staring at the stars in peaceful silence

well, peaceful for you

joong felt hollow

or maybe like someone filled his stomach and chest with stones

hongjoong wasn’t an idiot; he knew you liked him

and he knew he was in love with you

you and your calloused hands

your dress permanently stained with ale

your knot of hair messily pulled back to keep it out of your face as you worked

your boisterous laugh

your bright eyes and smile

how you weren’t afraid to call him out on his rich boy shit™

the way you’d take off your shoes and dance in the field under the night sky

how you were a strong willed and free-spirited woman, but you let him take care of you from time to time

the way his eyes would linger on you when he thought you weren’t looking

the way your eyes would linger on him when you thought he wasn’t looking

“accidental” brushes of the arm, of hands

no, he wasn’t stupid

so how was he supposed to tell you he was getting married?

[pinkoptics]

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

3. Hipsters / 16. Hippies

Erik detests hipsters and hippies and, to be honest, isn’t even sure what the difference is, nor does he particularly care. The things he will do for Charles…

Modern AU. Still have powers. Grumpy Erik. Adorable Charles. Meet Cute. Silliness.

3392 Words

*

Erik hated everything about this place.

Absolutely everything.

He could write a dissertation on its failings, which were abundant.

Its first sin was being directly across from his apartment building. When he looked out his window, he saw it. When he stepped out of the lobby doors, he saw it. When he pulled his car out of the parking garage, he saw it. It was an unavoidable part of every single day of his life.

Its second sin was what it had replaced. Previously, there had been a diner. A kosher diner. A diner that had tasted like his childhood. It had been a hole in the wall, never looked quite clean, but the coffee had been strong enough to caffeinate an elephant and the food almost as good as his mama’s. Most people had passed it by. Just another slightly dingy New York eatery that you didn’t give a second thought. Quiet. A refuge for those in the know. Then came the hipster gentrification, ruining not only his precious diner, but the neighbourhood in general.

Its third sin was its name. Plant. In and of itself the name ‘Plant’ was harmless, inoffensive. Just a word. It conjured images of a vegan eatery, bistro, restaurant, or maybe if taken 100% literally, a store that sold plants. All of which would have been fine. He had nothing against plants and, sure, he ate meat (kosher meat), but happily ate vegetarian dishes as well. But no, it was not a plant store or even a vegan eatery, it was a vegan coffeehouse. Coffee came from plants, Erik knew this, so the name passed on that technicality, but it did not scream ‘coffee.’ Why not ‘Bean’ if it needed to conform to the trendy one-word-naming that had for reasons unknown come with the gentrification. It was couched between ‘Table’ (a restaurant) and ‘Sweat’ (a boutique gym). Plant did not equal coffee, and that knowledge crawled under his skin every time he saw the stylized lettering.

Its fourth sin was the coffee. Erik wasn’t particularly picky about his brew, whether at home or out. Cheap diner swill, the finest Italian espresso, the Keurig at the office, the ridiculously expensive machine that produced the perfect cappuccino at Emma’s apartment, whatever. Plant’s beans were fine as beans went, the roast satisfactory, but then ruined with its accompaniments. They carried a variety of ‘mylks.’ Yes, with a ‘y’. He preferred lattes, and would have been fine with oat or almond— if only it was spelled with a fucking ‘i’. Every time he saw the pretentious letter, he felt the urge to take a sharpie and commit as many acts of misdemeanour graffiti as necessary until all the ‘y’s were gone.

Its fifth sin was its staff. He could have tolerated their always sunny dispositions (even if it were literally impossible for any customer service employee to be that happy all the time). He could have tolerated their ridiculous hipster (or was it hippy?) apparel, moustaches, beards and hairstyles (what was even the difference between the two?). What he could not handle was the way they called him ‘friend.’ Every. Single. Time. He could count his friends on one hand and none of them worked at Plant. Their ‘peace, love and joy’ vibe made him grind his teeth and wish he had a mutation that would allow him to send them back to the 1960s.

And yet…

“Good morning friend! Amazing day, right?” It was, in fact, pouring so hard the streets were borderline flooding. “Usual? Or do you want to try—”

Erik had long ago learned to immediately tune out the suggestions, but was sure he caught the word ‘sage.’ Who in their right fucking mind wanted sage in their coffee? Yes, he was inside the loathed establishment wasting precious brain cells wondering why anyone felt the need to mess with the simple perfection that was coffee and milk. Yes, he was there often enough that the employees knew him on sight. Yes, he had a usual order.

It wasn’t his fault.

It really wasn’t.

It was the fault of a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

This shouldn’t have been the case. The whole thing was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The entire story more at home on the W Network or Hallmark, than in his very real, not-a-rom-com, life. And yet, here he was, having his 24th latte with mylk in a row and questioning his very sanity.

It had all started, just over a month ago, directly in front of Plant. To this day, Erik wasn’t sure whose fault it had been. He’d been on his phone, eviscerating a junior partner for a monstrous fuck up, and so livid that he was not at all paying attention to his surroundings. The blue-eyed man he’d run into, however, had claimed equal distraction, so perhaps the blame rested on both of their shoulders.

They had crashed into each other— papers flew, his phone flipped through the air and they ended up in a heap on the sidewalk, Erik atop the smaller frame beneath him. Already late for work, already pissed off with the junior partner beyond reason, Erik had been ready to re-direct his anger and tear whoever it was a new one, when the aforementioned blue eyes had arrested the words in his throat. He had admitted this to no one. Hell, he barely admitted it in the sanctity of his own mind because he was not a 12 year old girl, but a senior partner in one of the most prestigious architecture firms in New York. He did not go soft over a pair of gorgeous eyes (except, apparently, that he did), particularly when he hadn’t even seen the face that went with the eyes, which could have been grotesquely unattractive (it wasn’t).

The mouth that went with the eyes was absurdly red and absurdly kissable. The face angelic. To his eternal, internal embarrassment he had thought that exact word— angelic. He wished he could have blamed his temporary insanity on hitting his head, but having fallen on top, he couldn’t. If anyone had a concussion it was the ocean-eyed, ruby-lipped angel man. The ruby lips had spluttered apologies in a gorgeous British accent (not something Erik had until now found to be a turn on) as they scrambled off each other, righting clothes and belongings.

“Your phone!” the man had moaned. “Is it all right?”

The screen did appear to have a crack, but in another moment of lunacy, Erik pocketed it before the Angel could see and muttered something about it being fine. Instead, Erik helped him to collect the papers that had fluttered every which way, including the road, where they were already being demolished by a steady stream of vehicles.

“I hope those weren’t important.”

The man laughed, it was a very nice sound. “Not as such, no. I’m sure my students will be delighted to hear that their papers were torn asunder. They already mock me for printing them at all. I could mark them on my laptop like a proper 21st century individual, but there’s something about the feel of paper and pen that I just cannot let go of. It’s— and, as I go on and see your expression, I realize a simple ‘no’ likely would have sufficed.”

What did he see in Erik’s expression? A man besotted? Enamoured? Smitten? Any other number of words he had never used in regard to himself or anyone else in his entire life? Fuck. Erik tried to school has face into its usual disdain for the world and ninety-nine percent of the people in it, but if he was as in control of his facial muscles as he was of his thoughts, he knew he was failing miserably.

Erik handed him the last of the papers they could possibly retrieve. “I agree— about the pen and paper, I mean.” He did. As incredible as design software was these days, he always started on paper. The precision needed to draw the perfect straight lines and angles of a new building gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction in a way little else did.

“Oh, well, glad I’m not the only one who hasn’t forsaken the old ways.”

His smile.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Erik cleared his throat. “Let me buy you a coffee.”

Had he just said that?

Traitorous voice.

Was he gesturing at Plant?

Traitorous body.

He’d never been inside. On principle. Apparently, principle flew out the window for charming British men with cornflower (cornflower?!) blue eyes. The man blinked those eyes, as though not expecting the kindness.

Erik gestured at the papers. “I’ve clearly set your work back and I’ve ruined your—” cardigan. Erik blinked as his clothes came into focus. The man he was suddenly, desperately, attracted to was wearing a baggy, grandpa cardigan. Erik began to wonder if he had never woken up that morning. Maybe he was still in bed, across the street. Maybe this was a fever dream.

“Oh! I’ve dozens more just like it. It’s nothing.” He swatted ineffectually at the dirt covering one sleeve.

“Please.”

The man cocked his head. “Well… all right.”

So Erik had. In the end it had been a tea, not coffee. Earl grey with mylk. The interaction had ended there, awkwardly. Most likely his own fault. He didn’t do flirting with random strangers he’d just plowed into on the street. He didn’t generally do flirting at all. Moreover, he was now very late and had the junior partner’s fuck ups to fix before this afternoon’s meeting with their client. So, he’d left, stumbling over his goodbyes.

The day that followed hadn’t afforded much opportunity to think on the chance encounter. Not with employees to castrate and clients to placate. It wasn’t until he was home, looking out the bank of front windows at Plant that his thoughts drifted back to Blue Eyes. Which was, unfortunately, what he had christened him in his head because he’d never gotten the man’s name. Erik had gone to bed, mind clouded with thoughts, dreamt of him, and woken up with those same thoughts. Emma had always said his was one of the most disciplined minds she had ever encountered.

So much for that.

It was only a complete loss of that discipline that could possibly explain why he’d unnecessarily crossed the street the next morning and entered the obnoxious establishment for a second time, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes had immediately scanned for a mop of just overlong brown hair (yes, he’d noted that too, as well as just how much he wanted to run his hands through it). When they’d landed upon said hair, curling delightfully upon Blue Eyes’ forehead, Erik had been genuinely surprised. This clearly made the man a Plant regular, which should have been a point against him — a massive point — yet here Erik was, seeking him out regardless. Blue Eyes had looked up at him then, gifting him with a smile and acknowledging him with a nod, before returning to a set of what Erik had to guess were re-printed term papers.

Such was the story of how Erik had become a regular customer with a regular order.

Most days Blue Eyes was there before he came in, sometimes working on laptop or in a notebook, other times reading a book or a journal. Erik had caught a title once — The Oxford Journal of Genetics — which led him to conclude, that along with clearly being a professor, this proved the man must have a brain to back up the looks. Another point in his favour, as Erik had no patience for stupidity, no matter how pretty a package it came in.

Erik’s day was such that he usually needed to take his order to go. The few days where he could scrape together a few extra minutes, he grabbed his own table. He hadn’t once attempted to kid himself that it was because he enjoyed the ambience— that level of denial would have been absurd. No, it was clearly so he could spend a few extra minutes trying to stare, in a way that wasn’t blatantly obvious, at his… crush. Crush. He might as well think the word because that’s what it was. Only days after meeting him, Erik had caught himself, pen poised, about to doodle hearts on his notepad at a meeting. The mental pinch and knowing look Emma had sent his way had made him extra testy for the rest of the day. The wide berth everyone but Emma had given him was a testament to that.

And yet…

He never approached Blue Eyes. They exchanged nods, occasional hellos, but never anything more. Out of all of his out of character behaviour — and there was a lot of it at this point — this rattled him most. Erik had a reputation in professional and personal circles. He was confident, forbidding, occasionally arrogant, and brazen in pursuing designs no one else thought possible to execute. Erik went after what he wanted in life with borderline fanaticism.

He did not sit and observe from afar, mentally warring with himself, while also berating himself, for not having the balls to ask to join him, or buy him another tea, or inquire as to what he was reading. There were any number of conversational openings, but 24th latte in, he still hadn’t taken any of them. With each passing day the side of him that decided against it (or ‘chickened out’ as the nastier part of his mind supplied) became stronger and stronger. Blue Eyes hadn’t engaged with him either. Maybe he wasn’t gay. Maybe Erik wasn’t his type. Maybe he was already in a relationship. The chances that he was being just as melodramatic as Erik was being in his own head seemed slim. So, Erik continued to act foolish — alternately wondering how long he would continue to do so and how good a kisser Blue Eyes might be with lips like that.

It was on latte #26 that everything changed— no thanks to Erik.

He had decided to sit at a table that day and engage in his usual ‘I’m staring but I’m not staring’ routine. He was in the ‘not-staring’ portion, scrolling through his emails without really paying attention to any of them, when he was startled out of it by the chair across from him suddenly becoming occupied.

Blue Eyes.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“Wha—”

“You come in here every day. Every day. Sometimes you stay, sometimes you don’t. It’s baffling because there is one thing I know for certain— you hate it here. No, you loathe it. And, there are literally dozens of other coffee houses within walking distance. You clearly don’t belong—” Blue Eyes gestured up and down at what was likely Erik’s three piece suit, then at Plant in general, where there wasn’t a single person so much as sporting dress pants. Erik counted at least two man buns, one head of dreadlocks and a form of baggy pants Erik didn’t even have a name for. “—and I am fascinated by things that don’t belong. Things that don’t make sense. Puzzles. You don’t make sense. There is no way the coffee is that good. And yet, here you are. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Charles.”

Blue Eyes — no, Charles — extended his hand across the table and, reflexively, Erik took it, shaking it gingerly.

Charles laughed. “I don’t bite. I entirely talk too much, ask anyone, but I don’t bite.”

Erik rather wished that he did.

“How did you— my suit?”

Thankfully, Charles seemed to follow his meaning. “Oh no, the suit is only corroborating evidence. As is the way you look down your nose at everything in here. It’s your mind.” Charles tapped his temple. “Telepath. I swear to you I haven’t dug any deeper than the surface swirl of utter distaste for this establishment. Then I’d know, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t be here asking.”

Telepath. Blue E— Charles was a mutant. Erik was fairly certain his knees went a little weak. Good thing they were sitting. However… what on earth could he say? ‘I’ve essentially been stalking you’ hardly seemed like an opener that was going to get him where he wanted to be. Erik cleared his throat, buying time, as those keen eyes continued to look at him expectantly. While Erik wasn’t verbose, he also never found himself at a loss for words, except for here and now, where the truth was exceptionally embarrassing.

His pause, it seemed, went on too long because Charles jumped back into the fray. “Good lord, I’ve ambushed you, haven’t I? Clearly, you don’t have to answer the mad man who mowed you down on the sidewalk and then ambushed the peaceful solitude of your morning coffee. I apologize and will bugger right off if you tell me to. However, if it helps any, I don’t like it here either. It’s trying too bloody hard to be ‘on trend,’ isn’t it? For a cultural subset who pride themselves on not being pretentious they’ve entirely failed, haven’t they? And, I’m English, I know pretentious.” He laughed self-depreciatingly at that.

A beat for his mind to catch up to the second verbal barrage and Erik finally had a response. “If you like it as little as I do, then why are you here?”

Charles’ mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’ of surprise. He scratched the back of his neck and, for a moment, looked everywhere but Erik. “Blast. I’m caught, aren’t I?”

His cheeks reddened adorably. Since when did Erik find anything adorable? Since now, apparently. This man broke all of his rules.

Charles gave an adorable (christ) little shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose I best come clean.” He looked Erik squarely in the eye. “You’re gorgeous. You bought me tea. I came back thinking I’d ask you out. But you’re so… I lost my nerve. Have been doing the same daily ever since.”

“I’m so… ?”

The cheeks reddened further.

“Entirely too gorgeous for me.” Charles gestured at today’s grandfatherly cardigan. “Besides that—”

“You’re perfect.”

Fucking hell. When had his mind decided to say things without his permission?

It produced another, adorable, surprised little ‘o’. “I’m sorry— What?”

In for a penny…

“I had never set foot in Plant before we crashed into each other. Never would have because I do hate everything about it. Everything except you, who I thought were a regular—”

“I thought you were a regular.”

“— and wanted to ask you out.”

“I’d never been here before ei— you wanted to ask me out?”

They stopped, collective words sinking into respective minds.

Charles threw his head back, laughing. “If I didn’t know better—“ He tapped his temple again. “— I’d think you’re having me on.”

His laughter was infectious and Erik found he was smiling despite himself. He gave his own little shrug. “I don’t lie.”

“No, you don’t, do you? I can’t believe we both—”

“Me either.”

“This is too much. Wait… Why are we still here?”

“I’m sorry?”

Charles leaned forward and plucked Erik’s latte with oat mylk from his hand. “Can I buy you a coffee? A real coffee? Where they know how to spell the word milk? At the cafe I actually frequented before I began co-starring with you in a romcom so terrible my sister wouldn’t even watch it?”

He was already standing up, as if assured Erik would say yes, which every single bone in his body was blaring loudly for him to do. It didn’t seem to matter to any part of him that he would be blowing off work, a thought he discarded as quickly as it appeared. Just another out of character thing to add to the list. He followed. “I’m Erik, by the way.”

Charles looked back, as he collected his belongings, and grinned sheepishly. “I know.”

That was the last time Erik set foot in Plant until exactly a year later. He ordered latte #27 with Blue-Eyed Charles on his arm, after having crossed the street from their apartment, to celebrate their first anniversary. As Charles smiled at him over his Earl Gray with mylk, Erik found he couldn’t quite hate the damned coffee shop as much as he had before.

[thedreadvampy]

Ok like I'm sorry for all the Elias discourse but stepping off from OGlias for a moment I legit saw someone saying it was a mischaracterisation to assume Jonah Magnus was himself a rich white dude which

uh

Let's leave aside for the moment that Jonah Magnus not being wealthy and privileged utterly sucks the meaning of of a lot of what the podcast has to say about class and exploration because hey, that's a matter of interpretation

What do we know about Jonah Magnus (from all statements mentioning his original incarnation)?

1816: Interacts as at least an equal with Albrecht von Closen, who has at least one family estate and an aristocratic pedigree and thus could be expected to be at least middle class if not wealthy. This is relevant because Georgian class was very stratified and cross-class mixing heavily discouraged, 1816 is probably fairly early in Magnus' career, and Albrecht doesn't address him as one would a social inferior.

1818: Established the Magnus Institute, apparently without external funding partners because he's the only one ever mentioned in connection with its organisation and his friends talk about it as his own project; it certainly isn't associated with an existing university or academy as far as we can tell.

1824: not a lot of additional information, except that again Magnus' friends are all moving in wealthy, upper class circles

1831: In a position to hire professionals for Millbank under good terms. We learn more about Albrecht, he's definitely painted as wealthy old money, which continues to speak to this association

1841: reasonably close friends with Sampson Kempthorne, workhouse designer, who expresses the expectation of Magnus agreeing with him about workhouses and the treatment of the poor through work. At this time, Magnus is living in an Edinburgh townhouse, by which I'm guessing we're talking about one of the New Town Georgian 4-floors-plus-servant's-quarters which that name implies. Those aren't mansions, but they weren't where a clerk or shopkeeper would live - they were built for ship owners, lawyers, doctors, the upper-middle and upper classes, and as the name townhouse implies they were generally occupied as one of several estates, with the usual occupants being likely to also have a country place.

Beyond specific statement letters, Magnus largely crops up via his association with his wee gang, all of whom are wealthy upper-middle or aristocracy (Smirke, Rayner, Lukas)

He has the resources and social clout to devote his time to pursuing what is, effectively, a hobby; his interest in the supernatural doesn't bring in much income and, conversely, often costs him to chase up. He doesn't appear to have a full-time job at any point; he works on Millbank with Smirke but he doesn't appear on the records, meaning this is unlikely to be a paid management role. His friends refer to his supernatural work as a hobby or interest, not a job, and make it clear that at least by the 1830s-40s this is his whole life (he's "rattling around with his books and letters") - ergo he does not have a need to support himself beyond that.

He had the resources and funds to, by himself and for his own purposes, not only shape the building of Millbank but also to set up an independent academic institution which is still running 200 years later

Like, is it explicit that he's a rich white man? Not per se. Would all of this information make sense if he wasn't? I suppose it's possible but it's a reach, and one that I'm not sure why you as a writer would make without making pretty clear. To be able to move comfortably in moneyed Georgian circles without being born to money, and to be able to do the things Magnus does without having substantial disposable income - that would be exceptional, and would surely merit some sort of comment.

(I've talked about the race politics of Georgian Britain as relates to Jonah Magnus before, but just to sum up: in a time before the abolition of the slave trade and during massive colonial expansion into Asia, being a British man of wealth and not being white was pretty unusual. We can see this in the description of Rayner; he's very specifically described as Black, but also his Blackness is notable to a contemporary narrator. so again, not impossible for Jonah to be a person of colour, but definitely unexpected and it would be an interesting choice to write that unremarked)

just by way of historical context, as I say, class was very structured and immobile in Georgian Britain for the most part. It was also, as I understand it, much more discrete. Whereas now, the lines between working class, middle class and upper class are pretty fuzzy, in the 1800s they were a lot more clear-cut - the working class worked for little money, had little to no education past basic literacy and numeracy, and the entire household would work; the newly developing middle class made a living through highly-skilled jobs (artists, doctors, lawyers, clerks, shopkeepers, factory owners, shop owners and pub landlords, for example) and would have enough disposable income to buy property; and the upper class/gentry may work (but only appropriate to their station; academia, law or the church, largely, and of course a lot of them in the 1810s made bank from Caribbean plantations and their imports) but substantially they lived off the profits of investments, ownership and estate management, built off heritable wealth. 

There’s a big range of middle class though, although it was a small segment of society. At the bottom end, you have your grocers, pub landlords, shopkeepers, clerks and so on - they probably own their homes and business and have money to buy things outright rather than renting. At the top end, we have some really pretty substantial wealth - we’re talking multiple houses and estates, large-scale business concerns, tens of permanent staff, and only one person in the family needing to work. The difference between upper middle and aristocracy isn’t necessarily in quality of life, aside from blood it’s really just a question of whether the majority of your income comes from work or from investment and property management. So for example, Smirke is upper middle, but very wealthy - he has a career in a high-profile trade, he’s notable and welcome in high society, but ultimately his wealth is dependent on him continuing to get work. Von Closen may have more or less material wealth than Smirke, but his money is old money and he does not work; he’s very much a gentleman of the upper crust. Particularly with Industrial Revolution and the profit that the slave trade and the expansion of the Empire were bringing in for traders, the middle class was abruptly getting a lot richer in at the start of the 19th century and if anything class was getting a lot more discrete - urbanisation and industrialisation meant the poor were getting poorer (and less able to exist outside a monetary economy) and the working rich were getting a lot richer (until of course after a couple of hundred years the upper middle class almost eclipsed the idle class as the Rich and Powerful)

So the gentry/nobles/old money/upper class were the only class whose wealth wasn’t to a high degree reliant on them working, and so honestly being a Georgian gentleman was stultifyingly boring. That’s why so many comedies of manners crop up from the lower end of the upper class - you have to find something to keep you busy and social politicking is something. But it also meant a lot of gentlemen scholars - men with time on their hands and nothing they desperately needed to be doing, who got really into eccentric hobbies and niche interests (like social engineering, or art theory, or the occult, or unpicking weirdly specific theological concepts, or a bit earlier experimenting with light and lenses, or a bit later investigating the origins of species, or getting super into a specific aspect of the classics). The idle rich weren’t the only ones doing academia or research, but they had the time, money and resources to devote to really deep dives into things without much financial use.

So my personal take is that, given that by 1818 Jonah Magnus had the capital, the social heft and the time to found and run an independent academic institution focused on his relatively niche interests, and to do so with enough resourcing that it still runs 200 years later, the safest bet is that he was born a gentleman. At the very least, all the people he socialises with are securely upper-middle or gentry; he has a visible disdain for the poor; he owned substantial personal property by at least middle age (the Edinburgh townhouse); he had the social clout to get involved behind the scenes in a major social architecture project - it seems like the lowest this could possibly place him is mid-to-upper middle class at birth (he could have made that much money from working and lucky investments, but to get into a position where by middle age you can afford to become the Idle Rich, spending all your money and time on an obsessive personal interest, you would need to have started off with at least the capital and clout to get a high-level education and/or make significant business investments (say, buy a series of factories or build a shipping empire). You could make a case that he could work his way up from being born to a middling-middle-class family - maybe a country vicar or a shopkeeper - but friends can I show you some numbers I googled?

In the 1810s, being mid- or upper middle class (fourth or above) meant you were richer than 94.5% of the civilian population. Upper middle and above (like literally every person we know of who had social ties to Magnus except maybe the architects)? Literally top 1%. (well. 1.25%).

The middle class in Georgian Britain was the elite. They weren’t the elite of the elite, but they had money, land, property, staff, clout and privilege. You can’t project the class politics of 2021 onto 1818 (that is, in fact, why pure Marxism still requires an updated reading, bc in even the last 150 years the specific distribution and attributes of class and wealth has changed substantially (although the same people do stay at the top and bottom)). 

I think our perceptions are altered by the worries and perspectives of popular contemporary authors. For example, Austen characters often bemoan their lack of wealth, and are firmly Middle Class, and compared to the upper middle and the gentry they are living frugally and on a budget, but with “cottages” that are often six- or seven bedroom houses with several parlours and one or two servants, plus a town house, and with only one breadwinner per family and enough invested wealth to live entirely off the interest (that’s what the incomes of these characters are), they are living in a degree of wealth that would be unthinkable to 95% of their contemporaries, and it would be fair to assess them as rich by modern standards.

You can argue that Jonah Magnus wasn’t aristocracy. You cannot argue realistically that he wasn’t rich. Not only does that make no thematic or character sense (again, that’s a matter of interpretation, but it seems to me to be Pretty Key to his character that he’s an examination of inborn privilege) but it also makes no contextual historical sense.

[winchesterfanatic1967]

Visions

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,007

Request for Anonymous- Hi Tiffany, I hope you have a great day. Can I please request a dean x reader one shot. She starts having these visions of people getting killed and at first she doesn't tell Sam and dean (yet he notices that there is something going on with her) , but the more time passes the more they get more intense and painful until dean finds out? Maybe the whole thing is a witch's curse or something. Thank you and keep up the good work I'm LOVING your stories!!

Warnings: A bit angsty

You shot up in bed, sweat dripping down your body. This is the third time this week. At first you thought it was just nightmares, but they weren’t. You’ve been having these visions, and they’re all coming true.

The first one you had, was of a group of teenagers camping in the woods when a werewolf killed them all. The next morning when you woke up, Sam had found you a case. A group of teenagers that went camping were found dead all with missing hearts. Okay...weird.

Then it got even weirder, when you had a vision about a nest of vampires that were kidnapping victims and turning them. When a strung of bodies turned up dead, throats ripped out in Iowa, you checked it out and it turns out it was a nest of vampires that were kidnapping victims and turning them. Truthfully, it was starting to freak you the hell out. 

Tonight, you had a vision where a woman was killed in a car crash. She lost control of the car because she just found out her dad was cheating on her mom. She came back as a vengeful spirit and started killing all unfaithful men who were fathers. If you found a case in the morning, then you would tell Sam and Dean what’s going on. 

You didn’t want to bother them. They had enough on their plate with the British Men of Letters and their mother coming back from the dead. You didn’t want to add your problems to the pile. 

The next morning, you woke up and went into the kitchen for some coffee. Sam and Dean were already in there. Dean was drinking his cup and Sam was on his laptop. 

“Morning y/n.” They said in unison. 

“Morning.”

“Are you okay sweetheart? You look exhausted.”

“Thanks De.”

“No, I’m serious. Are you getting enough sleep?” He asked worriedly.

“As much as a hunter gets.” You joke. 

“So I think I found a case. It sounds like it might be a vengeful spirit. Right before a man named Peter Fuller died, he claimed he was seeing his dead daughter. She had died in a car crash the week prior. The locals and the authorities think he was crazy, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

You dropped your cup on the floor, and it shattered everywhere. Your hands started to shake.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Sam asked gently. 

“Y-Yeah.” They both just looked at you with concerned eyes. 

It turns out, your third vision was right, and you were scared. You didn’t tell Sam or Dean what’s been going on, and you could tell they were getting worried about you. Especially Dean.

The three of you were eating dinner together one night, when you got a really bad migraine. You moaned out in pain as you grabbed your head. 

“Y/n!?” 

“Y/n, talk to us! Are you ok?! What’s wrong?!”

You continued to groan out in pain, as you were having a vision. A woman was tied to a chair, and beaten up and bloody while a man continued to beat her. He left, and just a little while later the same man came home. He was shocked at her condition, and untied her while she screamed and cried for him to get away from her and not to hurt her anymore. His doppleganger came out from the shadows, and killed her. A shapeshifter. 

When your vision ended, you were panting for air and the pain subsided. The brothers were frantically patting you over, trying to find out what was wrong and where you were hurt. 

“I-I’m fine.”

“Like HELL you are. Tell us what’s going on! We want to help you.” Dean says.

You sigh softly and look up at their worried eyes. You explain the nightmares, the visions, how they were coming true, and that this was the fourth time this has happened. They looked as terrified as you, and then Sam looked online for any cases.

Sure enough, the vision you just had popped up. Man claims he didn’t kill his wife, and that before his wife died someone that looked just like him popped up. Sam called Garth, and put him on this one. You started to cry, and the boys hugged you. Dean in the front of you, and Sam behind you. 

“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m so scared.” You whimpered out. 

“Shhh, we’re gonna call Cas. Okay?” Dean whispered and you nodded. 

Cas showed up a few hours later, and pressed his fingers to your forehead. A minute later, he looked to the three of you. 

“It’s a curse. The witch you killed last week put a curse on y/n before she died.”

You remember now, before you shot her she muttered something in a different language. You felt fine, so you didn’t say anything.”

“Am I going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I can heal you.” He said as he pressed his fingers to your forehead again, and pulled away. 

“You should be fine now y/n. If something else happens let me know.”

“Okay, thank you Cas.” 

Later that night, you were laying on your bed staring at the ceiling when a knock came at your door, Dean popped his head in and you smiled at him. He smiled back and sat next to you on the bed. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, I really hope I can finally get proper sleep. I’m so tired De.” 

“I know you are.” He says softly and brushes the hair out of your eyes. His eyes are full of love and adoration. He leans down and kisses your forehead. 

“Get some rest sweetheart.”

“Wait, De-” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you stay with me?”

His lip curls up in a smile, before laying down next to you. He wraps his arms around you, and you curl into his chest. He pecks your forehead again and you melt into his embrace. 

“I love you, you know that?” He says softly. 

“I love you too Dean.”