#this sounds reasonably accurate- some crazy plans for a while but eventually finding himself

[loveandthings11]

Mark Mylod on eventual Kendall optimism ❤️

The Hollywood Reporter, 8/16/23

[no-reply95]

I was scrolling through the Beatles topic on Twitter the other day and came across a tweet from Mark Lewisohn referring to a talk he’d given to the Fab4cast podcast on the Get Back sessions and Spring period of 1969. I assumed that it was a recent talk so I gave it a listen but the talk is actually from 2019.

I tend to find Lewisohn’s podcast interviews to be very interesting. He’s obviously got decades worth of Beatle knowledge stored up so you’re almost guaranteed to learn something new or hear an anecdote that you’ve never heard before but more than the factoids he’s accumulated over the years I find his interpretations of the band extremely telling.

The part of the conversation that really caught my attention was when the podcast hosts brought up the fact that John and Paul’s weddings were really close together and wondered if the two events were connected in any way, I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that this probably got the biggest reaction out of Lewisohn, the main points of the exchange are outlined below (time stamp 47:12)

Host: “Well also in this period there are two events, the marriages of John and Paul, within 8 days of each other… I read that John wanted to marry on the 14th, two days after Paul’s wedding but couldn’t do it because of legal issues, how much was his [marriage] a response to Paul’s marriage do you think?”

Lewisohn: “I’ve read that people say that it was but never heard John say that it was so there’s no validity to those claims they’re just people assuming that John didn’t want to be outdone by Paul… that’s the kind of writing that annoys me because it becomes part of the fact and it’s some writer thinking that’s what it probably was… Unless someone out there can find a Lennon quote in which he actually says it in which case I stand corrected and I’ll be very happy to do so”

There’s a lot going on in these quotes so I’m gonna break down my thoughts on this further:

The illusion of John’s honesty

What Lewisohn displays here is something I believe is pretty common within the Beatles’ authorship. I believe in Revolution In The Head Ian McDonald referred to John as “truth” and Paul as “beauty” and I think a lot of writers do tend to assign those attributes consistently to John and Paul. Reading (or listening) to the Lennon Remembers interview now, it’s hard to believe at one stage people took what John was saying as fact and never even questioned whether there were emotions or agenda behind what he was saying, despite the contradictions (“Me and Paul stopped writing together in 1962” vs “Me and Paul worked really closely together on Sgt. Pepper”) and because John was so charismatic and would speak openly in interviews and to people he knew about both the good and bad in his life I think people, and in this case Lewisohn, assume that John told us everything of note that happened in his life, which I don’t think is a realistic expectation of anyone, let alone someone as famous as John. I think it’s problematic to take John’s or anyone else’s words, especially when they’re said in public, as the gospel truth because everyone has an agenda and John was no different. I also think it’s unrealistic to believe that John would ever announce that the reason he and Yoko got married when they did was in any way connected to Paul, that would have sullied the sanctity of “John and Yoko TM”, I mean, how can you be the greatest love story ever if the reason you decided to get married was because your musical partner who you may have unresolved romantic feelings for got married? I don’t think John would publicly embarrass Yoko like that or risk undermining the strength of the brand he was trying to create with his new relationship by admitting that Paul’s marriage spurred them on. That Lewisohn is apparently holding out for a lost interview of John stating that Paul was involved in the timing of his marriage to Yoko just sounds pretty far fetched to me.

The timing of John’s wedding in relation to his and Yoko’s divorces

As discussed in this podcast, Paul and Linda got married (pretty unexpectedly I believe) on 12 March 1969 and John and Yoko got married 8 days later (and apparently they wanted it to be sooner) on 20 March 1969. Aside from the extremely close proximity of John and Paul’s weddings it should be noted that John’s divorce from Cynthia was finalised in November 1968 and Yoko’s from Tony Cox was finalised in January 1969.

So why am I bringing up John and Yoko’s divorces? Because it meant that they were free to marry each other from January 1969, there was no longer a legal issue preventing them and if John’s bursting out in song about it, you would assume that they would have started planning their wedding ASAP… but curiously they didn’t. How do we know John and Yoko weren’t planning a wedding before Paul married Linda? Because once Paul was married John and Yoko started scrambling to get married ASAP, suddenly there was a rush and need to be married that hadn’t existed before, John suddenly wanted to marry Yoko on a ferry but they couldn’t be married there, then John wanted to marry Yoko in Paris but they needed to be resident in Paris for a period of time before they could get married there so eventually they settled on Gibraltar as they could get married there at short notice. Clearly there was a sudden need for John and Yoko to get married that didn’t materialise until around March 1969, am I and countless other people (including Paul himself) crazy for assuming that Paul’s wedding impacted John’s sudden desperate need to be married? If it wasn’t Paul’s wedding, what was it?

Authorial interpretation and assumptions

I’m really fascinated by the visceral reaction Lewisohn had to just the suggestion that the timing of John and Yoko’s wedding was connected to Paul and Linda’s. For Lewisohn to state it annoys him was pretty shocking to me because, given what is publicly known about this period and the lack of any other logical reason for John and Yoko’s wedding to be so close to Paul’s and Linda’s, I don’t think it’s bad writing to point out the proximity and suggest that the timing was more than a coincidence.

Based on his reaction, you would assume that Lewisohn would be set against any form of interpretation where the principal in question hadn’t confirmed that the interpretation was in fact correct but that would be an incorrect assumption to make. Some of you may be aware of the Hornsey Road shows Mark Lewisohn was giving in 2019 around the 50th anniversary of Abbey Road. During these shows Lewisohn played a clip from the, now infamous, 4-4-4-2 meeting tape and gave a presentation on the Abbey Road period in the Beatles’ history. One of the points Lewisohn raised during the show was that during the sessions, after the car accident in Scotland, a bed was brought into the studio for Yoko so she (and sometimes John) could rest while work on the album progressed. According to Lewisohn, one morning they turned up to the studio and someone had removed one of the legs from the bed, leaving it with 3 legs *dramatic pause* which was him heavily hinting that he thought Paul broke Yoko’s bed on purpose and then bragged about it on the Ram album by including a song called 3 legs, I’m not going to go into the validity (or lack thereof) of this claim but I find it very interesting that Lewisohn was annoyed about authors suggesting that the timing of John and Yoko’s wedding was connected to Paul and Linda’s but he seems happy to publicly speculate that Paul was sabotaging Yoko’s bed in the studio based on the title of a song that he would release on Ram two years later and nothing else.

Is there any evidence that connects John’s wedding to Paul’s?

I’ve already outlined the suspiciousness of John and Yoko choosing to get married right after Paul, when they had been free to marry for weeks prior but is there any other evidence that either proves that the weddings were connected or is Lewisohn right to deem that suggestion as lacking in validity?

Interestingly there actually is unverified eyewitness testimony that does connect John and Paul’s weddings (something not mentioned by Lewisohn in this podcast). I believe there’s an anecdote from Les Anthony (John’s chauffeur at the time) about him driving John and Yoko around when news of Paul’s wedding suddenly came across the radio, to which John apparently said to Yoko that “we have to get married now”… I couldn’t track down the exact source for that story (if anyone knows the source please let me know) so I’m not sure how credible that anecdote is but, assuming it is accurate, then that would suggest a correlation between John and Paul’s weddings that Lewisohn is adamant doesn’t exist.

Why does this matter?

I do think that this podcast interview could be indicative of a few future concerns I personally have around the way the Beatles discourse will progress in the future. Firstly, this was only a podcast interview so it’s unlikely that when Lewisohn releases the final book in his trilogy that he’ll discuss the weddings in this manner (I.e. although he’s adamant the timing of John’s wedding had nothing to with Paul he failed to offer any sort of explanation regarding why John and Yoko were rushing to get married when they’d had weeks to prepare a wedding).

It’s a slight worry that Lewisohn seems to believe that John announced every single thing that happened in his life of note, especially concerning Paul and Yoko. If John had told us everything of interest about him, surely his Dakota diaries would be the basis of a Netflix series by now and not locked away in a vault (assuming they haven’t already been destroyed). To me, like several authors before him, Lewisohn seems to be mistaking John’s emotional honesty with factual honesty. It didn’t escape my attention that several clips of the Lennon Remembers interview were inserted into this podcast and Lewisohn quotes extensively from it in Tune In as well. There’s nothing wrong with using Lennon Remembers as a source but if you do use it you should be analysing the veracity of what was said as we know that John was in a torched earth mentality at that time and even he himself has said what he said in that interview wasn’t meant as a timeless manifesto. It’s a shame that given his ability of analyse sources Lewisohn has never (to my knowledge) critically analysed Lennon Remembers, given that other sources have been analysed this makes LR a strange omission.

Finally, Lewisohn does tend to make some good insights and does have the ability to read between the lines (I.e. him noting Paul’s tendency to say “we” when in most cases he means himself) but with John I do think he has a bit of a blindspot. Why Lewisohn is happy to speculate without evidence in some cases (3 legs) but he draws the line at the suggestion that John and Paul’s weddings being connected is anyone’s guess. If Lewisohn can turn his attention to reading between the lines with John and the other Beatles too and connecting the dots then we should get a Beatles biography that finally addresses a lot of the issues we cover on this site. However, if we take the approach of only using John and Yoko’s PR to understand the events that transpired before and after the band broke up then the story hasn’t moved much further than 1970 and given all that we know now I think that would be a huge shame.

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless. 

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm. 

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour. 

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start. 

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it. 

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it. 

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults. 

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves. 

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something. 

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through. 

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything. 

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship. 

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away. 

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed. 

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born. 

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings. 

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts. 

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up. 

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer. 

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone. 

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name. 

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life. 

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy. 

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated. 

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear. 

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility. 

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

[sweetestlamb]

Save Me From The Dark

Summary: If I don’t lie to my heart, who will? 

Author's Note: The feedback to this story has been overwhelming and beautiful honestly, I've never done anything like this for a non canonical couple but so many of you have told me that this pairing makes sense to you too. They are just two lost souls to me and bringing them together is simply destiny. I saw on the timeline that TB was hard to watch tonight for my Seojun lovers,  I thought this might cheer some people up. Sorry for the brevity I’m writing between lesson planning, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Special huge shout out to @ewolfwitchwisegirl​ who made a header for me, it's so gorgeous and better than anything I could have ever done. This chapter is dedicated to you for inspiring me with this masterpiece!! Everyone who makes a gif set, header or anything because of my story you are loved, thank you. I am honored.

p.s. the burn will still be slow but it’s slowly starting tehe. 

"What? Where is she now?" Su-ah's face scrunches up in disdain as Ju-Kyung explains what she missed while in the nurse's office, the shorter girl looks more enraged than she's ever seen besides when that video of her being bullied was posted. Su-ah and Su-jin came over everyday until she finally caved in and let them in, taking turns crying in their laps. She’d been so ashamed to face them only to end the night teary-eyed with snot dripping from her nose, as they took turns wiping her runny nose. It was disgusting, but in that moment she knew that all her fears had been for naught, they were her friends regardless of what she looked like beneath her foundation. They'd been her saving grace and two huge reasons she could walk back through those doors with her head held high. Suho’s constant love and support only helping to make her feel even more invincible.  She can feel that same protectiveness wafting off the her friend now, Su-ah is fierce when it comes to the people she cares about. She's just honored to be among that short list.

"She's okay. I covered her and brought her to the roof."

"And then you left her? All by herself?! Come on we have to go back she needs us." She staggers as Su-ah grabs her hand forcefully, spinning her in a circle but she digs her heels into the ground interrupting the motion.

Su-ah looks at her baffled, tugging harder. Her eyes squinted into two thin lines. Immediately she puts up her hands, calming the agitated girl.

"She's not alone."

Su-ah tilts her head cutely in confusion, seeming to consider who exactly could be with their friend and conjuring nothing after a short pause complete with a finger on her bottom lip. She puts the girl out of her misery and gives her the answer, "Han Seojun. He's with her."

She'd been just as bewildered when she saw the name flashing on her phone.

Han Seojun.

Sure they were friends, he was also Suho's best friend so they all hung out a few times but he'd never called her prior and she'd almost forgotten they even possessed the other's number. Making her believe that his reason for calling had to be important, since he’d never done it before so she answered without hesitation.

Before she could utter hello, he was barking at her "Where are you? Is Su-jin with you?" She looked over at the other girl, wind whipping her long raven locks wildly around her beautiful face. The frantic raise and fall of her chest was the only thing marring the picturesque sight. Breaking her from her admiration Seojun repeated his inquiry but there was an unusual quality to his voice the second time, he sounded as if he was pleading. She didn't know what was happening but he sounded as if every second not with Sujin was torture. Before he could repeat it thrice, she answered him.

"We're on the rooftop."

His speed reaching them was impressive, before Su-jin could fully interrogate her about who exactly was coming to the rooftop, he was already bursting through the doors and unafraid despite the wrath on Su-jin’s face, she stared in surprise as he called her princess of all things snarkily, she watched them appraisingly waiting for Sujin to sneer at the cutesy moniker but that reprimand never arrived. Seojun seemed comfortable, too comfortable easily pressing into Sujin's space as if he belonged there, as if he wanted to belong there. She felt like she was intruding watching them prod and snap at each other, so she slipped away no longer worried about her friends safety. She seemed to be in good hands.

She snaps back to reality realizing that Su-ah has been bombarding her with questions, "Han Seojun? Why is he with her? Was he the one bullying her, I'll get Tae-Hoon to kick his ass!" She looks at her friend considering her boyfriend, and then Han Seojun, almost in sync they both shake their head.

"No, forget that. He can't fight someone like Han Seojun, can you tell Suho to beat him up? Do you think he'll do it?"

She chuckles while capturing the other girl's hands, "We don't need anyone to beat him up. He didn't do anything, he helped us actually. He got everyone to go back to class and stop looking."

Now Su-ah looks positively beaming, smiling that bright wide smile that is definitely the reason that Tae-Hoon can't stay away from her.

"Why? Why did he do that? Are they close?" The girl ask coyly, always ready to matchmake. 

It's not her place to say, she's just a bystander and honestly she doesn't quite understand what's happening, Seojun is always full of surprises. So she tugs Su-ah away, knowing that if pressed Sujin will retract and push Seojun away on principle, she doesn't know what's happening to the other girl but when it all comes tumbling down it's clear that Seojun won't be far behind.

"I think they're becoming friends. Sujin could use some more friends, don't you think?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He doesn't know what he was expecting, it was a crazy idea. Absolutely insane. But regardless of the insanity of his words, he meant each and every one of them. Standing this close to the crying girl he could see the swell of her right cheek, the same cheek that had been bleeding the night they met. Ran into each other, might be more accurate.

It wasn't a fever dream or a hallucination. It was all painfully real, she was being hurt and nobody else seemed to know. She hid it well, even he could admit that her ice princess façade never cracking at school. She'd always looked like a perfect little doll in her designer clothes, he had imagined that she had a loving perfect family. He of all people knew that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, yet he took one look at her expensive appearance and thought he had her all figured out.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

So he knows that his suggestion is crazy but that doesn't ease the anger when she pulls away, turning her back to him before answering.

"No."

His fists tighten in the balls he has by his side but each quiet exhale that causes her small shoulders to lift up and down, unknowingly calms his rage and he finds himself smothering his own fury to offer another suggestion.

With a deep breath he says, "Ask Ju-Kyung if you can sleep over then. You shouldn't be alone."

She also shouldn't go home. Her words echo hauntingly in his ears, he used a belt. Bile coils tight in his throat, it was her father then he was the one hitting her, destroying his own daughter until she couldn't stand to be touched by others. The urge to fight has never been this visceral.

She sighs as if he's bothering her, he already knows what she's going to say before she says it, so he intercepts her stepping around her so they're face to face.

"I dare you to tell me to mind my business." He growls at her, giving her enough space so he's not looming over her much smaller figure but staring hard enough that she knows that he's serious, he's decided to make this his business she better deal with it.

She stares at him, mouth lax after his deep challenge glaring right back after she regains her composure but her eyes shift away, unable to meet his own now and without a word she huffs before stomping away. He watches her leave, knowing that he's reached the point of no return. He's going to follow this through to the very end.

If she tries to run, well he has long legs.

And a motorcycle.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The pain of her raw water soaked skin grounds her, but the swooshing of the faucet does nothing to drown out her thoughts as she rubs vigorously at her palms, scratching at imaginary dirt that will never be lifted from her hands. Making the water piping hot she hisses at the sting of the water on her bruised hand, she has to punish herself. She almost did something infinitely moronic.

"You almost said yes." She whispers to herself in the grimy school mirror, looking back at her own face in disgust. Feeling the flame of hope desperately grasping for air, yearning to awaken under the boys insistence.

She can't explain her reaction to him, they are nothing; less than nothing she wouldn't even consider him a friend.

Yet, he knows more about her than her best friends. Knows her deepest darkest secret and instead of gossiping or avoiding her, he's chasing her down and demanding to help her.

"He's insane. There's nothing to understand, there's no logic to insanity." She reasons with herself in the mirror, choosing not to focus on the fact that she's having a conversation with herself. His crazy is rubbing off on her, when she put her head on his chest it must have leaked on her.

She can remember the heat that always seemed to radiate from him, maybe that was a result of being loved. He was warm. She wanted to reach out and grab....

What? Grab what? She immediately reels her wayward thoughts back in. 

What am I thinking? 

She needed to stop her train of thought now. That had been a mistake, a lapse in judgement. It wouldn't be happening again. If he was hellbent on following her she couldn't stop him but she knew it wouldn't last, no one was that selfless eventually her pity story wouldn't be enough and he'd realize she wasn't worth the effort.

She tries to convince herself that this is what she wants. Lying to herself has become as natural as lying to others, it’s a means of survival. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Upon entry to the cafeteria every eye shifts to her or so it seems, time too stops as they all cease their conversations to watch her like she's an animal on display. Her skin prickles from the overwhelming attention before the silence bursts like a bubble and the noise washes over her, people begin to point in her direction whispering not so subtlety to the person next to them.

She almost bolts before she feels a hand on her elbow, her instincts almost make her snatch her arm away but the familiarity of the perfume halts her movement.

"Come on. We've been waiting for you."

Su-ah doesn't give her a chance to decline dragging her over to their table, Ju-Kyung's smiling face greeting them. She's shoved down onto the bench, in between the two like they're trying to shield her. The idea makes her feel warm and uncomfortable so she pushes it to the back of her mind.

She silently eats her food, staring intently at her tray before she finally relaxes as she realizes that no one is talking to her, they aren't demanding to know what happened. She's not ready to talk about it, not yet and they are showing her that that's okay. They will be here for her regardless of not knowing the full story. Under the table she discreetly grabs both of their hands, squeezing them hard. Squeaking in embarrassment when both girls twist and smother her in tight hugs, she pretends to loathe it pushing them both away but they cling to her until she gives in. She's so weak today.

"Oh. Seojun-ah over here!" Ju-Kyung blares in her precious ears, waving rapidly over her shoulder and she feels her stomach dip. Not him again he never ate lunch here and when he did it was with his gang, why was Ju-Kyung calling him here?

Pinching at her vulnerable thigh under the table, she hisses at the other girl "Hey! What are you doing? Don't call him over."

Unfortunately it's too late, she can already feel his aura behind them getting closer. There's barely room on the other side of the bench, then Hyun-Kyu yelps before looking up in their direction, then he swallows and nods as if receiving an order, he presses his glass further up his nose before collecting his lunch and leaving. She watches the interaction confused before turning to look at Ju-Kyung who has an exaggerated look of innocence on her face.

"I guess he was finished eating. It works out though, now Seojun can sit there."

He's slipping into the evacuated space before she can yell at Ju-Kyung for meddling. Huffing she burrows into her food refusing to look up. She’s only been ignoring him for a few seconds before he seems to reach his limit. 

"Give me some."

She watches in shock as familiar hands invade her space and grab her tray, pulling it across the table before lifting one of her sausages to his mouth with his fingers, the uncivilized swine. She's reaching out before she can reconsider or think about how they will appear to others she doesn’t share her food damn it, she reaches to cover his hand stopping him from biting and stealing her last sausage.

"What the hell are you doing? Don't touch my food." She scowls at him, grabbing at her food and humming victoriously when she gets it back. Only to stare wide eyed and flabbergasted as he shrugs before devouring the juicy morsel, directly from her fingers, a brief brush of warm wetness on her finger tips. They both freeze, staring at each other. The air between them charged, almost crackling from their locked eyes.

"Seojun! You're the man! You're a natural flirt, eating from her hands!" Appearing from thin air Seojun's gang boisterously chants his name, clapping him on the shoulder and she physically cannot be in this room any longer. She shoves her tray at him, grabbing her backpack before hopping over the bench.

"I'll see you both later." With a tight smile at her friends, she races from the cafeteria unaware of the eyes tracing her every step.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The rest of the day drags by, she spends it lost in a daydream making sure not to look at the boy behind her. She just wants to get home and lock herself away, this time nothing will get her to open the door. With a sigh of relief, she stands as the teacher dismisses them for the day. Packing up slowly to miss the surplus of students at the door, they are all still looking at her warily spreading rumors about her rudeness and supposed narcissism. Creating explanations for her scene in the bathroom, the majority of them painting her as stuck-up. She doesn't mind it's better than them knowing the truth. Let her be a rich spoiled bitch in their minds better that than a victim.

Like clockwork, Su-ah and Ju-Kyung latch onto her from the left and the right. She lets them pull her out the door and towards the entrance, absently listening to their heated debate of where they should eat today. She sighs out loud, amused but hiding it behind a passive face.

"Why are you even arguing? You know we’re such going to get spicy tteokbokki anyway."

They always do, it's like arguing is their warm up before the noodles because no matter how passionate they both get about the different possibilities they've never eaten anything else together.

Walking out the school gate, they all jump back as a motorcycle suddenly skids into their way blocking them completely. Instantly she's annoyed, breaking their linked arms she storms over to the idiot, shoving at his chest before shouting at him.

"Hey! Are you crazy? Were you trying to kill us?" She slaps at his helmet when he tilts his head at her, the loud knock satisfying as she glares at him. 

Then he reaches up like he's staring in a shampoo commercial and tugs the helmet off his head, hair stylishly falling onto his neck. Instead of looking upset at her rough treatment he smirks, leaning over the handle bar right into her face.

"Since when are you scared of my bike? Don't act so fragile princess." She gapes at him affronted by his unapologetic attitude, then further bothered by his second use of that infuriating nickname. She's nobody's fucking princess. As she opens her mouth to tell him this, he turns away from her before talking to Ju-Kyung.

"Take her to your house tonight. Have a sleepover or whatever you all call it. She told me she really wanted to ask you but she was too embarrassed." He points over at her, lying easily through his too white teeth. She wants to punch that smile off his face.

"Hey when did I say anything like that to yo--!!"

But he's on a roll, bulldozing through her interjections with the same ease he used that night on the highway. Pulling something from his pocket and thrusting it at her.

"Give me your number."

What.

"What?"

He looks at her like she's wasting his time, rolling his eyes before repeating slower, the asshole.

"Give me your number."

She scoffs at the brazen order, sneering at him before grabbing her friends. "Let's go."

But never of them are budging, so she pulls harder but still they don't follow and she turns to them both annoyed. "Didn't you hear me let's go."

"Give me the phone."

Her jaw drops as Su-ah reaches out at Seojun, he looks as surprised as she does before he shakes himself from his confusion and hands the girl his phone. Su-ah happily taps away before handing the phone back over.

"There you go." Su-ah smiles easily before tugging them all away now, she wants to fight her hold and run back and take his phone, delete her number and tell him once and for all to leave her alone and stop playing whatever game he’s playing.

"I'm hungry from all that arguing, let's get tteokbokki." Ju-Kyung states happily, leading them towards the shop.

She just goes along quietly, feeling outnumbered and indignant. They were supposed to be her friend. She pouts the entire way. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Seojun watches the three girls walking away, eyes fixated on the figure in the middle until they turn a corner and disappear from his sight. She'd looked like she wanted to kill him, a woman had never looked at him with that particular expression before. She could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

Hooking his helmet onto the arm bar of his bike he finally looks down at his phone, thankfully still in one piece.

When he sees the number he smiles softly before his eyes shift down and laughter bursts out of his chest, he can't stop the bubbling bouts of joy that fall from his lips.

8298263098

Princess

With another chuckle, he pulls on his helmet before revving the bike to life and peeling out of the school feeling lighter than he has in a long time. He doesn’t question his gut, no he’s not someone who overthinks he jumps first and looks later. 

[gildedmuse]

Yes, please. More ZoLaw... How about AU ideas?

Oh, I have ton of AU ideas. Some of which I have like 11 pages of co-brainstorming, some of which I've written up summaries roughly the length of some of which are just two words: [blank] Zoro / [Blank] Law. Here's the best list I can put together while on my way to work.

Okay, Hear Me Out. A ZoLaw Fic Where....

Zoro Is Law's Marine Bodyguard....

After Corazon dies, the navy does some digging. Years later they learn about Law and insist he is in danger as Doflamingo has located him as well. A young marine, Zoro, is assigned to guard him

Law Is A Marine & Roronoa Zoro Is His Obsession...

Or Law follows in Corazon's footsteps and becomes a marine. He sort of takes Tashigi's place as Smoker's sidekick second in command. So he's there in Lougetown when the Strawhats breeze into town. and the two develope an... Intense rivalry in which Law is determined to hunt down the cocky young swordsman (mostly because he feels like a fool... Why in the world would be agree to a fight without using his devil's fruit? What kind of argument is "it's cheap" anyway? Why the hell had he been thinking?) while Zoro enjoys taunting the handsome, moody marine he kicked the ass off back in Lougetown (or totally would have if they hadn't been interrupted).

Just wait until Law follows him all the way to Dressrosa. He's been avoiding meeting The Heavenly Demon since he became a marine, so why they hell is he willing to follow this green haired pirate hunter into the devil's own home?

Zoro Hates All Doctors (Except Law) (And Also It's A College AU Because Why Not?)

Modern AU where Law is an overworked med student filling shifts at the student clinic and Zoro is a at University on a kendo scholarship, preparing for the olympics. He has a knack for getting injured (it doesn't help that his coach, Mihawk Dracula, doesn't believe in pulling punches... Or whatever the sword equivalent is). Still, he absolutely hates going to the clinic. One day Law is taking out some tension at the gym practicing with his own blade when Zoro gets badly hurt. Law rushes over to help, and since Zoro isn't really in a position to say no he has to let the young doctor help him.

After that whenever Zoro gets injured he still refuses to go to a doctor. What he does do is lurk outside the student clinic (typically with Luffy in toe to keep him company - even if your injured and tired, you can never get too bored with Luffy as your best friend) until Law gets tired of it and makes him come in so he can fix up whatever he's managed to injure this time.

The clinic receptionist - Perona - doesn't find this cute at all. Mostly because Zoro is typically sweaty and gross and the Monkey boy is just annoying. His fellow student interns Shachi and Penguin are just impressed Law has put up with him this long (they did ask if the Kendo scene attracted a lot of girls, but Law's blank stare pretty much answered that one) while Assistant Professor and Physician Marco thinks it's adorable but is kind enough to only tease Law about it occasionally (he doesn't ask about fangirls in the kendo scene since he's pretty much certain that's not Zoro's scene either way).

Of the two tenured professors who officially oversee the clinic, Dr. Crocus has never said anything to Law about the whole situation except for letting him know when Zoro is waiting outside. He does, however, sometimes bring Zoro and Luffy by snacks or something to drink and has even kept them company an few times. No need for the two of them to wait out there with no one looking out for them (and, yes, they clearly need someone looking out for them). On the other hand Dr. Kureha has never believed in cuddling her students. The exact opposite actually. She started by telling Law he'd best take his pet home since he couldn't have it here all day ("Pet? What pet? Whoever it is, it's not mine, Dr. Kureha-ya." / "So that green haired stray and his little monkey friend don't belong to you?" / "Green hai- Urg."), Which eventually evolved to her telling him this was a clinic not a dating service ("He's not... *Sigh*") and finally came to the point where she just snips st Law for not being able to control even a simple minded athlete then how does he plan to deal with actual problem patients? She's also made a point of telling Zoro off - it pretty obvious that even when he does come by the clinic he only does so after either accumulating multiple injuries or continuing to push one until it gets far worse than needed. Is the boy an idiot? Why wait until things are so bad, and why is he wasting the time of one of her top students? If he wants to stalk one of the postgrads he could at least pick a less talented one. There are plenty to choose from.

Marco tried to make up for this lecture (after which Zoro stayed away for three months until he almost lost an eye) by offering to let Zoro and Luffy wait in the actual clinic to wait. (To which Luffy helpfully announces, "Zoro isn't waiting for the clinic, he's waiting for Toroa." Which kinda makes Zoro want to strangle his best friend but since he's currently holding a towel up to his eye and feels pretty sick at the thought of not making these games because he's an idiot, he only managed an apologetic smile and mentally promises himself to pinch Luffy later. Marco is totally unsurprised by this answer, for what it's worth.)

(Also, it turns out Kendo does attract at least a couple of girls, at least at the Olympics level. It's probably more accurate to say that Dracule Mihawk and Roronoa Zoro attract attention, which Law only learns because he was heading home after his shift and saw a bit if activity around the gymnasium and wandered over purely out of curiosity and somehow accidentally ended up watching Zoro's match. And that randomly happened a couple of times. Look, the best parking is by the gym he practically has to walk by to get to his car. He isn't going out of his way. And he has a valid reason to be interested in kendo. (Also, appro of nothing, Tashigi seems like an annoying know it all and Hiyori seems like a silly teenage girl and why is Perona even here?)

Shanks Uses His Yonko Status For It's Highest Purpose - Mischief

While sailing to Wano, they stop at an island to gather supplies when they are ambushed. It turns out to be one occupied by the Head Haired Pirates. Before anyone can attcak, Shanks steps into view, smiling. He greets Kin'emon and Kunjuro (they were with the Roger pirates for a while). Robin, Franky and Usopp he recognizes as friends of Luffy. Weirdly, he calls Zoro 'Mihawk'ss boy'. Law corrects him as Zoro is also in the Strawhats. Shanks laughs because while that may be true, he's met Zoro and he's Mihawk's boy to him. Law seems unhappy with this description, while Zoro just rolls his eyes, calling Shanks an old pervert and to stop messing around. Despite everyone else freaking out, Shanks laughs it off. He insists surely Mihawk would be the pervert in that situation. Law dislikes the whole conversation. It only gets worse when it turns out they have to stay on the island two weeks, and Mihawk is visiting as well. Under Shank's bad influence (and seeing how such comments got under the other Captain's skin even if he wouldn't admit to it) he convinced Mihawk to join him in creating some mischief (Shanks is a terrible influence).

Law Is Working For Doflamingo, Gathering Information On & Chain Off Rookie Pirates

Instead of Bellemy, the crew find Law right before Skypea. He is also (secretly) working for Doflamingo. Typically it's his job to narrow out the herd, and for the pirates that might make it to the second half of the Grand Line, his job is to gather information that may be useful in "convincing" them over to Doflamingo's side later or else can be useful in eliminating them if they become a threat.

Unlike Bellamy, it takes Law only one conversation in the bar to determine that the Strawhats aren't your average pirates. Their captain's open, naive nature makes gathering information on them rather straight forward. Which is how Law determines that his biggest advantage is his crews loyalty, and none seem more so than his handsome swordsman. Luffy seems to naturally open and unashamed to be able to gather blackmail material on, but Law's willing to bet if you own Zoro, you'd more or less own the captain. So he sets out to do just that.

Swords Are Cats

Zoro owns three infamous crazy cats. Law is a vet. Look, this is an AU in which Swords are cats. Zoro has two in particular that no vet is willing (or able) to get anywhere near. When Wado gets sick, though, he shows up to The Heart Veterinary Clinic (it sounds like such a cheesy name he already can't stand it) with all three in toe. Best to get everything done at once since it's unlikely they'll ever be allowed back again. Sure enough, Shisui just has to start the trip off by escaping when Zoro is checking in.

Law is in his office when he notices Kikoku is gone, which is strange. She usually likes to stick by his side. He goes looking for her and is surprised to find her hiding under the receptionist desk, curled up peacefully with another cat. He holds up the strange tomcat only to very nearly lose an eye. Zoro catches the poor thing midair when Law stumbles back from surprise, honestly just thankful to find him before he caused any damage.

Law takes one look at Zoro and the three cats and instantly knows two things:

A. Oh, so these are the demon cats he was warned about by Tashigi and Pica and Wanda and even Shanks who seems like he can put up with almost any animal

B. He's definitely going to get these cats to like him, if only to ensure that Zoro back.

Law Ends Up On Kuraigana Island

Incredibly simple What If premise. What if instead of fighying two pacsifistas alongside the Kid pirates, the Heart Pirates wind up on the battle field with the Strawhats. When the real Kuma shoes up, Law gets a little too close to the action and is sent along with Zoro to Kuraigana Island. This has everything you need in an AU. Zoro and Law going from complete strangers to friendly rivalry to sexual tension because they're stuck on an island for two years together. A possible love triangle with Mihawk. Perona being either an annoying bratty sister to Zoro (who in fairness beat up her crew) while openlh crushing on a disinterested Law or a Perona silently shipping the two of them long before they even take any real notice of each other (I'm guessing she'd talk about it with her hallows). Bonus points for scenes of The Heart Pirates trying desperately to find their beloved captain.

I'm kidding. Bonus points for adding Mihawk in the mix and making it a triangle filled with possessiveness, jealousy and a totally unaware he's in the middle of it all Zoro. That's my jam.

They Were Childhood Friends (Who Haven't Seen Each Other In Years)

Sometimes, all an AU needs to be is a romamtic comedy formula lifted wholesale and recontextualized to fit whatever fandom you're into. So, yeah. Law and Zoro grow up at the same dojo but haven't seen each other in years, then suddenly Law is sitting there in ten Sabaody auction house when the something crashes through the roof, and that something looks a lot like a boy he hasn't seen since he left the dojo at 18. Or, hey, maybe Law catches a wanted poster of "his little brother" while sailing on the Grand Line and decides to track him down just to see how he's doing. And probably he was totally unaware that at 13/14 years old, Zoro had just about the biggest crush in the world on him.

Although most the Strawhats definitely know. Or at least figure it out damn quickly. It's kind of hard to miss how their badass swordsman suddenly can't make eye contact or flushes at the slightest provocation. ("Do you think the Heart captain realizes?"/"Maybe it's just because Zoro looked up to him. I mean, I can't imagine him actually LIKING someone."/"Oh, come off it, you'd have to be blind not to see!"/"I think it's sweet that our swordsman-san still holds such a place for what must have been his first major crush."/"Yeah, who know Zoro-bro could be such a romantic!")

Strawhats antics ensue.

Law Uses His Shichibukai Connections For Something Other Than Revenge (So Sex. Sex and Revange.)

After becoming a Shichibukai, Law meets Mihawk at an official summon and picks up on the fact that Zoro is training there. Having promised Luffy he would look it to his nakama's safety should be discover them (something he had thought would never happen) he follows Mihawk back to the island to see how Zoro's training holds up.

Perona Is Zoro's Older Sister, Just To Create Drama

AU where Perona is Zoro's older sister. She hangs out with a much darker, edgier crowd than Zoro approves of. He find Law especially questionable and not just because they seem to have a 'thing' (in my mind Zoro is in high school while Perona and Law are not in college. He's heard about the way college boys often are and he doesn't really understand that all their relationship is entirely casual, and most the time when he catches Perona cuddling up to him, it's just her being cutesy (and because she knows that while it annoys Law a little, he won't do anything to stop him). He also doesn't understand why every time he tries to confront Law about it he ends up feeling so flustered. (Not that Law is about to openly hit on his friend's little brother, but some teasing never hurt)

There's Only One Bed. Because There Is ALWAYS A Story With Only One Bed

The Polar Tang and Sunny are stolen while the two crews are meeting up, talking over a plan to take down Blackbeard (okay fine, LAW is doing all the planning). Luckily, Shanks just happens to be passing by and offers them a lift, but as big as his ship is, three whole crews take up a lot of space. And despite Shanks (joking) offer to let Zoro share his bed, Law is the one who ends up stuffed into a single hammock with the Swordsman.

Law Tries To Sleep With His Uncle's Partner (Not As Terrible As If Sounds)

Law's uncle Corazon works in Law enforcement. He talks endlessly about his new rookie partner to the point of Law's annoyance. Until Corazon brings the young green haired detective home for dinner.

Law Is The Ship Doctor For The Strawhats Pirates

Corazon lives and runs off with Law, who grows up to be a doctor. One day, a pirate ships sails to their island. They have a sick crew member and desperate for help. Law doesn't help pirates, but then the corrupt ruler of their island has Corazon arrested and locked up, claiming he's found his true identity and plans to sell him out to his brother. They come for Law, but the Strawhats save him despite his refusal to help them (Luffy doesn't mind, he's sure Torao has his reasons and anyway Corazon is an amazing man who gave them a free lunch and he's sure Torao is just as good.) The Strawhats rescue Corazon, kick out the evil ruler and bring peace back to the island. Law finds himself compelled to accompany them.

Law Tutors Zoro (In The Ways Of Love Math)

Zoro's life is way too stressful. Between kendo competitions, a job that doesn't pay enough, a second job that's a bit questionable not too mention school. He doesn't even care about most that stuff, but if he wants to be the greatest at his sport, the rest is sort of necessary. Like training. One thing he definitely needs more training in is school work. Zoro has to keep a certain GPA to keep his Kendo scholarship. Luffy insists he knows the perfect tutor, and while Zoro isn't so sure about Luffy's judgement on intelligence, he trusts his friend. Enter Trafalgar Law, college senior who tutors on the side. Oh, and - as he casually mentions at the end of their first session that he's seen Zoro at his job. No, not as at the restaurant, but the online videos. And he has to say, he's quite the fan.

There are a few I didn't manage to get to tonight, despite being some of my favorites. Maybe later, when work has not drained the life out of me, you can hear about...

Drummer Zoro/Med Student Law

Marine Law/Revolutionary Zoro

Marine Law/Marine Zoro

Police Zoro/ME Law

Rock Star Law / Bodyguard Zoro

Biker Gang Zoro / Anarchist Group Law

Kendo Olympic Champion Zoro / Sports Doctor Law

Kendo Rivals Zoro / Law

Evil Doflamingo Pirate Law / Captive Zoro

Samurai Zoro / Ninja Law

Detective Zoro / Art Thief Law

[chalantness]

fic: When the Lights Come Up

Rating: M Word Count: ~3200 Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: I’ve been waiting for you all along, Steve had told her, down on his knee. Because that life you wanted me to get? It starts with you. I think it always has.

A/N: HAPPY (belated) ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO AVENGERS: ENDGAME!

I don't really know what this is, I just know that I saw this fanart on my dash and went a little crazy! This is also loosely inspired by a prompt sent in by an anon about Steve secretly knowing Russian. The way I ended up using it is different from the actual prompt, but I hope that anon still enjoys this anyway if they read it!

With that being said, I completely relied on this post and this article for the translations, so I apologize in advance if anything isn't accurate. I did not take a lot of time to cross-reference since I hadn't planned on writing this so quickly, so please feel free to correct me if you feel comfortable doing so.

Read On: [ ao3 ]

It’s strange how something can feel familiar and new all at once.

Natasha wonders if she should feel some small, lingering sense of wariness as her gaze drifts across the room, taking in all of the chatter and laughter as it floats through the air. The last time she’d stood behind this same bar at a party almost exactly like this one, it had ended in a fight, just as it always seems to. Every single thing on this floor may look as it always has, but Natasha knows that it’s been ripped and shattered and repaired. Natasha knows the fallout that happened that night, in this very room, had led to a lot of lives lost and almost the fall of an entire country in a blink—and yet, here they are again, gathered like they’ve done dozens of times before, and there’s nothing melancholic at all about a room full of people laughing and drinking and celebrating despite the fallout that had once happened here. Just as there’s nothing melancholic about walking through the streets of neighborhoods that’d been rebuilt and breathed back to life, even though, just a year ago, they’d sat vacant and haunted by the ghosts of everyone that was lost.

There’s only light, and warmth, and something that feels suspiciously like hope.

“Well, doesn’t this scene look familiar,” a voice muses, and Natasha turns to find Tony sitting himself on one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. “You know, if you’re looking for some extra cash, I can always hire you back on as my assistant. No need to get all my guests drunk just to squeeze a bigger tip out of them.”

Natasha smirks. “I was more Pepper’s assistant than yours,” she points out, “considering you were a little too preoccupied with your downward spiral.”

“In my defense, I was dying,” he reminds, and she really, really shouldn’t want to laugh at that, of all things. But she catches his gaze, sees her own amusement reflected in his eyes as his grin widens, and she can’t quite help the giggle that spills from her lips over the absurdity of this, of them and the two of them joking about death when, a year ago, that had been exactly their fate. “I’m surprised that Steve’s even let you out of his sight in a dress like that,” Tony adds, scrunching his face as he continues, almost in the same breath, “and I promise that sounded classier in my head than it did out loud.” Tony holds both hands up as if in surrender, and Natasha smirks as she shakes her head at him.

“The only reason I’m still in this dress is because I’ve been out of Steve’s sight,” she says, feeling her smirk widen as Tony groans loudly.

“Okay, okay, enough.” He squints his eyes at her in a playful. “You know, when I said Steve should surprise you by picking out a dress, I knew it was going to backfire on me but I went and opened my big mouth, anyway. I guess self-sabotaging is a hard habit to shake. Then again,” he pauses, pointedly shifting his gaze to her hand, “maybe not.”

Natasha follows his stare, flexing her fingers out as the diamond on her ring glitters under the glow of the lights. “Maybe not,” she agrees.

“It’s nice, huh? The quiet life.” Tony’s gaze shifts from up from her engagement ring to meet her stare, his grin fading into something softer. “You know, I was a little worried at first. That you wouldn’t know how to put the suit away for good.”

“I don’t think any of us puts them away for good,” she points out gently. “It’s just not how we’re wired. You came back, didn’t you?”

“I did.” His smile hitches at the corner. “The difference is that I walked away to begin with. So did Steve, a little bit. We may not have been talking, but I knew Cap gave his suit a chance to collect dust for five years while you handled operations on your own.” He hesitates, holding her stare, but she gives him a small smile and a nod and he nods back as he goes on. “Of course, I can’t give Steve all the credit. He wasn’t exactly trying to move on, even if that’s what he preached once a week during all those meetings he ran. But that part wasn’t too surprising.” Something somber flashes in Tony’s eyes, but it’s gone with a blink, his smile widening. “There was no way Steve was moving on without you.”

Natasha smiles, a warmth fluttering in her chest as she glances back down at her ring.

I’ve been waiting for you all along, Steve had told her, down on his knee. Because that life you wanted me to get? It starts with you. I think it always has.

“He’s always been a stubborn man,” Natasha quips, and if Tony notices her voice quivering ever so slightly, he doesn’t point it out.

“He has to be if he wants to have any hope of keeping up with you,” Tony retorts, and Natasha breathes out a laugh, shaking her head. There’s a small pause, and then, softly, Tony adds, “You know you two are welcome to stay as long as you want. Stay forever. Morgan will become a nightmare if you ever leave our guest bedroom.”

Natasha laughs again, her chest squeezing as she glances across the room at where Morgan is running around with Lila and Nathaniel. It’s ridiculous, really, the pang of reluctance that hits her whenever she thinks about not seeing that little girl at the table for breakfast every morning. The feeling is made even more ridiculous when you consider that she and Steve are building their home on the same lake as Tony and Pepper, only a few dozen meters away from their cabin. They’ll practically still live together, anyway—and no, that hadn’t even been in the plan. They knew staying in the guest bedroom was only temporary, but, after only a couple of weeks, she and Steve simply couldn’t picture living anywhere else. Briefly, she and Steve had considered renting a place to stay during construction, but Tony and Pepper shot down that idea without a second of hesitation.

“Morgan will adapt,” Natasha points out, one eyebrow arched at Tony as she grins. “And you will, too, even if you’re nearly as stubborn as me when it comes to change.”

“Okay, you got me,” he chuckles, holding his hands up for a moment before tapping his knuckles on the bar, grinning at her. “It’s been tolerable, though, right? Camping out in our guest bedroom?”

Natasha smiles. “It’s been great, Tony,” she tells him. “We may be moving out eventually, but you can’t get rid of us that easily.”

Tony smirks, but rather than a quip in response, he simply nods. “Good.” He taps the bar again, sliding off of the barstool and onto his feet, and now there’s a playful sort of glint in his eyes as he leans in and adds, his voice low, “By the way, you might have everyone else fooled by being back here, but don’t think I didn’t notice that congratulations are in order.” Natasha narrows her eyes at him ever so slightly as he draws away, but she doesn’t quite fight her own smirk as his widens back at her. “I’m surprised Steve kept quiet.”

Natasha rubs her lips together, but Tony just winks and turns to walk away before she can respond, heading over to where Pepper is sitting with Laura and Maria.

Somehow, she’s not surprised.

Natasha feels herself smiling as she shakes her head, her gaze drifting over the crowd, and she hopes she never, ever stops getting that little burst of warmth that rolls down her spine when she catches Steve’s gaze. He’s across the room, almost facing away from her where he, Wanda, and Scott are at the pool tables, but he glances over his shoulder the moment she finds, his lips hitching up into that crooked, boyish smile she loves. He leans off of the pool table, turning to Wanda and Scott to excuse himself, and Natasha feels a flutter in her chest as he crosses the room and stops in front of her. He holds his hand out, and his thumb brushes over the band of her ring when she slips her palm against his.

“What did Tony want to talk about?” Steve asks as he brings her hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

“He wanted to congratulate us,” she answers, one eyebrow raised. Steve blinks, surprise flitting across his expression only for a second before it shifts into a grin.

“Of course,” he breathes out with a laugh, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the back of her hand. He doesn’t seem even a little bit bothered by this revelation. Instead, his grin softens into a smile as he gestures with a nod of his head toward one of the doors leading to the balcony. “Let’s get some air?”

She nods, letting him guide her out from behind the bar, and he pulls her against the warmth of his chest when they step outside. It’s definitely still cold out, but with summer only a few weeks away, it’s already starting to feel warmer outside. Natasha doesn’t doubt that they’ll spend most evenings in their new house, out on the patio just like this. It’ll be a matter of days before they’ll officially be done with construction, and by the time they get moved in and settled down, it’ll be warm enough to enjoy the lake behind them.

She feels him press his lips against the top of her head, his hand drifting across her shoulder and down her neckline, her skin almost entirely bared from the thin straps and tastefully low neckline of her dress. She shivers lightly against the touch, tipping her head up to meet his gaze as his hand splays against her stomach. She’s only barely starting to feel the tiny bump of her stomach, and she’s definitely not close enough for anyone other than Steve to see, but the high waist of her dress would’ve hidden it well, anyway.

“How are you feeling?”

She covers his hand with hers. “I’m good, I promise.”

“Yeah?” He starts stepping back, gently tugging her with him as he pulls her further onto the balcony. “You don’t need anything from me?” he asks, one eyebrow arched as they round the corner. Natasha breathes out a laugh as he guides her back against the wall, tucking them out of sight from the door as he steps into her space.

He pushes a hand into her hair, tangling his fingers into the curls as she bites on her lower lip. “No,” she answers.

“No?” His other hand curves around her waist as he breathes out a chuckle, hovering his mouth over hers. She slips her hands under his blazer, splays her hands against his chest through the thin material of his dress shirt as she stretches on her toes, ghosting her lips against his. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope.” She nips at his lower lip. “What about you, soldier?” She leans away, just a little, and blinks up at him from under her eyelashes. “Do you need anything from me?”

His eyes seem even darker, somehow, and the hand at her hip squeezes her gently. “Mozhno ya tebya poceluyu?”

Can I kiss you?

Natasha’s heart skips in her chest, her breath hitching as can practically feel the cadenced syllables brushing across her skin, sending a tingle down her spine.

She blinks, swaying back ever so slightly, but Steve steps closer, practically pressing her between him and the wall. “Steve?” she asks with a whisper.

“This may be one of the only times I’ll ever be able to surprise you,” he says, his eyes glinting, practically twinkling like the city lights glowing somewhere over his shoulder. He ducks his head, presses his face against her cheek, and each word is almost a kiss against her skin as he says, “Ya obozhaju tebya.” She feels him smile. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”

I adore you. I love you.

She exhales a sharp breath, reaching up to cup his face with her hands. “Steve.”

“I just started learning,” he tells her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, no doubt feeling the warmth of the blush just under her skin. “I don’t know if you want to teach them the language, but if you do, I want to be a little prepared. I want our child to adore every part of you, because it’ll be part of them, too.”

She strokes her thumbs over his jaw, her vision blurring ever so slightly at the edges as she breathes out a shaky laugh. She can feel her heart thrumming against her ribcage, feel her skin tingling where his thumb is smoothing in circles over the pulse in her neck, and she stretches up and brushes her lips against his. “Poceluy menya,” she murmurs—kiss me—practically pleading it against his mouth, and he does, slanting his lips over hers and making a low noise from the back of his throat as his tongue sweeps past her lips. His hand slides down from her neck, fingers splaying over the bared skin of her back as he pulls her off of the wall and presses her against his chest, kissing her even deeper.

He may say that she’s the hard one to surprise, but Steve is always the one that surprises her, the one that always sends a thrill down her spine.

He kisses her right there on the balcony until she’s breathless, until she’s hazy and heady with the want, feeling flushed against the cold air of the night – and she doesn’t care that there’s a party on the other side of this wall, and she definitely doesn’t care someone may notice that they’re gone.

And she knows that Steve doesn’t care about any of that, either, when he pulls away from their kiss with a sharp inhale and murmurs, right into her ear: “Ya tebya hochu.”

I want you.

She feels a little frantic when she nods, her hands coming between them, reaching for his belt, but he gently bats them away, kissing the side of her jaw, the pulse in her neck, the dip between her breasts just above the neckline of her dress as he lowers himself onto his knees in front of her. He pauses for a moment, pressing a softer, sweeter kiss to the flat of her stomach through the silky fabric of her dress, and she pushes on of her hands into his hair, twisting her fingers into it as he glances up at her with a smile. It’s soft at first, but only for a moment, and then he’s smirking, his eyes glinting as he gathers the skirt of her dress in his hands and pushes it up her thighs. She twists her fingers into the fabric, holding it up for him as his head dips underneath, and she feels the heat of his mouth right before it’s against her, his tongue licking at her through her lace panties.

She lets out a shaky breath, her head falling back against the wall.

He pulls one of her legs over his shoulder, presses one hand to brace her against the wall as the other tugs aside the front of her panties, and then his tongue is lapping at her again, his lips finding her clit and sucking gently, and she feels her body quiver as she curls forward.

She can’t quite roll her hips against him like this, can’t tug on his hair with her hands holding her dress up, and she wonders if that’s why he’s done this to her a few dozen times before and yet, this feels a little bit more—more intense and more consuming and just more, oh god, it’s so much more.

She bites down on her lower lip as he rubs the tip of his tongue against her clit, circling, just as he always does when he knows she’s close, and she thinks she nearly draws blood in her effort to stifle her cry as she tips over that dizzying edge. He continues lapping at her, soothing her nerves as her orgasm bursts through her, until she’s mewling and breathing out his name. He kisses the inside of her thigh, keeping her trembling body braced against the wall for balance as he pulls himself back up, and she tightens her hold on her dress with one hand as the other grasps at his tie and pulls him forward for a kiss. “Lyubimiy,” she murmurs against his mouth, earning a low groan in response.

My beloved.

“Rodnaya,” he whispers, making her chest tighten as he presses his body against hers. My dear. “I’ll be gentle, love,” he promises, hooking an arm around her, and she breathes out a laugh as he lifts her up, her legs going around his waist as he hitches her higher against the wall.

She can feel him pressing at her entrance, can feel her bundle of nerves ache with want as she winds her arms around his neck. “Maybe not too gentle,” she says, feeling him chuckle as she slants her mouth against his, and she nearly bites down on his lower lip as he pulls her body against his, slipping into her and filling her as best as she can from this angle, in this position. It’s not the first or even fifteenth time they’ve done something like this, but each time is just as thrilling as the first as he starts moving against her.

She’s not quite sure how it’s possible to know exactly how her body fits against his, to know that they’ll always move in sync, no matter what—and yet, it still sends a shiver of surprise through her when she can feel him against her, inside of her, touching every part of her.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she breathes, kissing him and whispering it again, and again, and again, her body trembling and tightening around his as he moves faster, harder.

I love you.

She gasps as he hits that spot inside of her that sends a white-hot burst of heat through her veins, and she whimpers against his mouth as he stifles her cry with another kiss as she falls over the edge again. This time, she can feel him inside of her, throbbing against her as he chases his own high, and it drags out her pleasure as it bursts through her. He groans lowly, kissing her harder, deeper, his hips stuttering, and then he’s following her over that edge, her lungs starting to burn from how deep and hard he’s kissing her.

It’s a long moment until Steve hums softly, breaking their kiss and letting her catch her breath as he presses his lips against the corner of her mouth.

“Nat.” He kisses her cheek, the bridge of her nose, and then he pulls back, smiling down at her as her eyelashes flutter open. He reaches up with one hand, tucking a few errant strands of her hair behind her ear before dipping it down between them, pressing his palm to her stomach. “You still okay?” he asks softly.

“We’re perfect,” she tells him, curving her hand over his, brushing her thumb against his ring like he loves to do to hers, and Steve is smiling as he brushes his lips against hers in another kiss.

[lethe-rpg]

Joseph Thomas, they named him. Joseph first, because he was the older of the two grandads, and because it was broadly agreed that he’d been a lucky sort of man. The Finedays wanted their son to have that, and all the drive, the grace, whatever it was that kept Joe walking the right way. Thomas second, because he was a good man, a good brother and husband and father, who got in trouble and made trouble and struggled and lost and struggled and won. And that ought to be honoured, too. Joseph Thomas Fineday - or J.T., because Joseph Thomas was the sort of thing you called somebody when they were in for it, and a mouthful besides - didn’t get to know his grandfathers well. Didn’t get to know a lot of things well, in fact, as his mom worked her way around the oil patch, far away from the rez he’d been born on, back in Saskatchewan. Leaving wasn’t an easy choice. But with his dad in the forces, gone for months on end, mom took the chance. For the family, for her son. The money was good; she pushed through night school along the way, set up a contracting business, made more money, made jobs. And when she had to, she could pick it all up and head to the next well. J.T. understood, but he didn’t always want to. Not when he had to get used to new schools and new towns, over, and over, and over. He knew he’d have his mom, and his dad, at least for a while, until the next tour. But mom worked so hard, and the two of them only got so much time together, too - asking for more, for him, seemed ungrateful. So he should just get friends of his own, hey? Only, most of those places they stayed, scattered through the prairie backcountry? Didn’t have too many kids to choose from. And most of those were white. Being one of the few brown faces in the room - or the only one - for a year here, two years there, and so on, putting up with all the bullshit that came with… it wore on him. First, he drew away into books. Tore through tiny libraries and battered secondhand stores. By his teens, that stopped working. Those rare visits home had dried up, cut off by loss, distance, and so on. Those once-precocious grades started sliding, fast. Those “friends” got worse, and J.T. got worse with them, trying to see who he had to be to keep ahold of the few connections he had. It was all sliding apart,  faster and faster - until a dingy school-lunch drama club in northern Alberta managed to hold that shit together. J.T. hadn’t expected it, to say the least. Fought it, for a while. But the lure of bringing something to life, stepping into a story, exploring people and moments and feelings… he couldn’t turn his back on that. Not for long, anyway. And that was just the start. Theater - the act, the history, all of it - became J.T.’s place to be. Wasn’t always easy. The same barriers his dad hit while serving, all the obstacles his mom ran into around the rigs, those homegrown Canadian prejudices, were waiting. But for that feeling, up on stage? J.T. told himself that was worth anything. And he told his students, too, as he somehow fell into teaching, one university improv group and community theatre club at a time. Along the way, he reached out into film, into art, into a world he’d never pictured himself as a part of - and he found that part, became it. Even if his parents didn’t exactly like all this, as a career path, they could love how much it did for their son. And, eventually, J.T. loved it for how much he could do for others, especially kids like he’d been. 

He’d still be doing that, if it weren’t for an exceptionally bad weekend. Exceptionally. A faculty trip out to the interior, a bit of backcountry hiking and so on, that’d sounded like a good time. Be nice to get out of the city, leave Vancouver behind for a couple weeks. So far as risks went, he’d anticipated busted ankles and blisters. Nobody mentioned wolf attacks. The ride to the hospital was long, and bloody. And fucking painful, to say the least. But if he’d gone to pieces, as much as his arm was, well, everybody would have lost it. So J.T. made sure they managed a few laughs, got some real road trip photos, yeah? He kept it up after the stitches went in, after he breezed his way back to work. While trying not to twitch every time he heard a dog growl. Or heave whenever he passed that hellishly nasty staff microwave. Or… there were little things, strange things, that sent him back to the doctor. Until he stopped bothering, because after a few scans and tests and so on, all the man said was that he ought to talk it out with his counsellor, and all his counsellor could do was listen and ask and miss what he meant, which sounded crazier and crazier every time he tried to find a not-crazy way to explain it. So those little things kept piling up, day by day - until it all fell down. Two months ago. Full moon. 

Now, you meet all sorts, in the theatre. Between students and colleagues, J.T.’s collected quite the odd mix of acquaintances - odd enough that somebody was able to suss out just what, exactly, was going on. Lycanthropy has some pretty predictable patterns, after all, and a fresh werewolf has some particular quirks, don’t they? Quinn Cameron, of course, had some personal experience to work from. They were friends - you’ve gotta be decent to whoever’s building your sets - just professionally, maybe, but between that and how jittery J.T. was, he listened when Quinn came around. To actually have someone put a name to it, make it real, was strangely earth-shattering. Or, more accurately, it… ripped the tape off, maybe. That first full moon had cracked J.T.’s world to pieces, broken rules, bent sense and story inside out. By sheer force of will, he’d kept his shit in order. More or less. Held the reality of it at arm’s length, because he had to. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Because it couldn’t be happening. But it was. It was, and he didn’t have any answers, couldn’t even imagine where to look. And as it pressed in on his life, as it tugged and tore at his body, J.T. started to feel something familiar: anger. At circumstances beyond his control, like when he was a kid, pushed around and pulled from place to place. He’d never liked being angry. It was something he wanted less of, wanted to beat and be done with. Hearing the reason, the truth, said - werewolf - didn’t help. What the fuck was that really supposed to mean, anyway? For him? For his plans, unraveling around the full moon, the days next to it, the days further, as he found himself tearing through his apartment night after night, unable to just will away this thing that had chewed its way into his schedule. A busy schedule. At this point, as he arrives in Lethe for what he hopes will be a short stay, J.T.’s trying to see this ridiculous, impossible situation as a temporary inconvenience. If the world’s weird enough for this B-movie bullshit to exist, it better be strange enough for an easy fix to be out there. And, based on what he’s been told, Lethe should be able to supply something like that. Right?

As for his thoughts on Lethe, well, J.T.’s still at the first impressions stage - he’s literally just arrived, and the walk from the inn to city hall has left him a little doubtful, to say the least. It’s weird how weird this place isn’t, given what Quinn told him. As for the Riverborn, or the Council’s shaky standing, or the recent and unfortunately relevant upheaval in the local pack, they didn’t get to that in any detail; at the moment, J.T. isn’t giving it much thought. He has his own problems, and, frankly, he’d like his life to get less strange sooner than later. Should be easy. Sure.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

AHS: Cult Revisited (Spoiler Warning: It Sucked Then and It Sucks Now)

SOME CONTEXT: Since I discuss the politics of AHS: Cult in the following article, new readers should probably know that my own politics are leftist and generally liberal. As such, it’s worth bearing in mind that part of my annoyance with the series does stem from the fact that most of its liberal, left-leaning characters are inadvertently written as total bell-ends. Most of my annoyance, however, comes from the issues I’m about to discuss.

SPOILER WARNING: Lots of spoilers ahead.

I’ve been re-watching American Horror Story: Cult, despite the fact that it’s the absolutely worst season of the anthology series, because some family members wanted to see it and I wanted to sit in and crow about where it all went wrong. And you know what? I’d forgotten how deceptively good the first half of the series actually is. It’s funny, unsettling and camp in that way that only AHS can be, and it contains lots of satisfying moments where absolute bell-ends get punched in the fact or killed with gym equipment. When I reviewed it about a year ago, I kind of forgot that there was the root-system of a decent TV show buried under all the crap. Y’see, the thing about AHS: Cult is that it’s only a shitshow in retrospect. After you’ve chewed your way through the increasingly dumb and unsatisfying second half of the series, you reach a conclusion that renders 99% of what you’ve just seen completely pointless: a whole lot of sound and fury signifying fuck-all.

The core of the problem is Kai, the blue-haired cult-leader supervillain and psychotic clown enthusiast who serves as the series’ antagonist. The motivations that he pretends to have in the first half of the series are way more interesting than the real motives that he’s revealed to have in later episodes. You see, early-episodes Kai is deliciously complicated an apolitical. He doesn’t celebrate Trump’s election to president because he thinks a Cheetos-hued former gameshow host will actually make a good president, but because his presence in the White House will spread fear and chaos that Kai can use to his own ends. He’s like a less slapstick-y version of the Joker, revelling in chaos and collective national misery and only allying himself to one side or the other so far as it promotes those things. In some places, his ideology seems downright and actively non-partisan. There’s a bit where he talks to a downtrodden and much shat-upon news reporter about her anger as a black woman in Trump’s America and legitimates her rage- which feels like “wanting to be the last person alive on Earth- because then you got to watch every other motherfucker die first”. He recruits a buff gay guy by killing his homophobic boss. On the other hand, he also gets a disenfranchised prospective Trump-voter on side by reminding him how he’s been told he’s obsolete and irrelevant because he’s a working class white male. In the early series, Kai’s ideology doesn’t seem to have much to do with left and right: his message is more along the lines of ‘modern America is a worthless shithole that fucks everybody over, regardless of politics or demographic, so let’s burn the whole thing to the ground and put me in charge’. It’s genuinely compelling to watch... and then the second half of the series happens and it turns out Kai was basically lying about all this complex motivation. He’s actually just a misogynist who wants to hurt women. Well, fuck. And there was me thinking we were getting an interesting and nuanced character who walked the line between villain and sympathetic protagonist. Nope- apparently he’s just a jerk. That’s a pretty accurate portrayal of the way sociopathic cult leaders work in real life, but it’s not very narratively compelling. 

Here’s the trouble. I know plenty of jerks in real life. I don’t find them fascinating. I don’t think they make interesting viewing. They’re not good TV: they’re just fucking morons in need of a good, hard slap. I get what AHS: Cult is doing- it’s making the point that cult leaders and far-right, regressive politicians can seem more complex and compelling than they really are in order to get what they want before they reveal their true colours. It’s an allegorical warning against charismatic, evil, morally-bankrupt politicians like Trump. And that’s a fine point to make, in an online article or a short story or... well, basically any media that doesn’t have to keep me entertained for 10-12 hour-long episodes. AHS: Cult chose to make a point instead of making a consistently good, watchable TV show. And that’s a problem.

Of course, Kai’s increasingly tedious and stupid character isn’t the only problem. AHS: Cult wants to be all feminist and get you to root for its oppressed, trod-up women. Which would be great, if its female characters weren’t mostly loathsome dipshits. There’s Ivy, who deliberately gaslights her lesbian wife and drives her mad. There’s Meadow, who more or less embodies the concept of vapid self-absorption, seems to start improving as a character, and then commits suicide before she can become genuinely sympathetic. There’s the reporter who starts off sympathetic but who ends up egging Kai on to greater feats of cruelty and chaos (when she finally turns against him, it’s not because she has a moral epiphany, it’s because he decides to consolidate power rather than go with her plan of causing as much random destruction as possible). Oh, and then Valerie Solanis and her ‘SCUM’ cult turns up and starts butchering men (and any woman who doesn’t hate them to a sufficient degree) while spouting grandiose horseshit. In fairness, the grandiose horseshit comes from her book, ‘The SCUM manifesto’, which is a real thing that actually exists... but bringing it up just serves to make Kai’s eventual adversaries seem as crazy as he is, just when the narrative needs them to seem like a heroic alternative. How so? Well, it was written by a literal schizophrenic just before she tried and failed to assassinate Andy Warhol.

After episode seven, AHS: Cult is increasingly framed as a struggle between Kai’s far-right misogynist cult and his former supporters’ self-justifying revenge-oriented cult-within-a-cult of revenge. Who are apparently preferable because... reasons maybe? Well, at least they’re not out for world domination and don’t give their recruits names like ‘Speed Ball’, which is something.

The final issue is Ally. Poor Ally. She starts off as a slightly pathetic, slightly pampered but basically decent person. She’s a left-wing liberal and broadly on the side of good, even if her many phobias do prevent her from getting her shit together. After wife Ivy steals their son from her using Kai’s cult, Ally goes through a pretty good character arc and learns to conquer her fears in order to save her son from Ivy’s increasingly unhinged grip. She’s basically the show’s happy ending waiting to happen... and then, in the very last fucking scene, she dons a green hooded robe and takes up the mantle of the leader of the deranged SCUM cult. Because of course she does. Because we couldn’t just have one likeable, uncorrupted character, could we? She reacts to the traumas she has survived by recreating a secret organisation that already demonstrated its impotence in changing the world and will definitely cause more trauma for other people down the line. For some reason, the show seems to think this is some kind of victory.

AHS: Cult has a lot of good ideas and interesting characters, which is why the first half of the series is so compelling. Unfortunately, it squanders them one by one, until we’re left with a left with a bunch of petty, simple-minded jerkoffs playing tug-of-war for the nebulous, symbolic prize of cultural dominance. Maybe that’s an accurate portrayal of our echo-chamber-fuelled, divisive, crude political landscape. Tragically, I fear that it is. But it isn’t good TV.

[wvrners-blog]

*snoop dogg vc* greetings, loved ones! let’s take a journey!   ; )

alternatively: hello, my name is lea ( 19 | est | she/her ) and this is the one where i introduce you to my little raindrop droptop gumdrop son, WARNER CHOI !

isn’t that ROSS BUTLER ? wait, that’s just WARNER. you can tell it’s him because of the WINTER GREEN TIC TACS & THE SCENT OF MAISON MARGIELA’S ‘JAZZ CLUB’, TOPPED OFF WITH A HONEY-DIPPED SMILE. he is the TWENTY THREE year old in the CHOI family. people say that he tends to be ALLUSIVE but i’ve seen them be PACIFIC. don’t tell anyone but i heard that he is hiding THAT HE HAS BEEN FORGING PRESCRIPTIONS AND SKIMMING MEDS FROM HIS WORKPLACE FOR BOTH HIMSELF AND HIS FAMILY. 

alright so just to preface: it is currently 12:15am, i have just returned from the gym, and therefore this intro will be an absolute trash amalgamation of headcanons & word vomit! but without further ado! let’s dive in!

warner is still v much a dude i’m figuring out, but a skeletal version of his BACKSTORY goes a little bit like this:

born & raised in sunray, but only for a short while. shortly after beginning preschool at 3 years old, it became clear to the choi parents that warner simply could not conform to a traditionally paced education system. the boy was far too perceptive for his age, to the point where he often shocked his educators and peers with unwarrantedly accurate analyses. ( for example, upon witnessing his preschool teacher discipline another child for the use of ‘vulgar language,’ three-year-old warner declared the following while holding his peanut butter & fluff sandwich with the crusts cut off: “  don’t think you should take anyone else’s words without asking. that’s an invasion of freedom. ” 

so warner spent his actual years of primary education off at a prestigious new york boarding school, cultivating his wits. i imagine this did do some damage to his bond with his siblings/parents, but not from his end. in general, warner is the epitome of warm and inviting. he loves completely, all or nothing, even from afar. but as the years progressed, it became much simpler for him to stay with friends during the holidays rather than fly back across the country for every official recess. so his visits to sunray grew slim, to the point where, by the time he entered high school, he only returned home for a few weeks each summer.

warner had always fostered a passion for science and along with a vivacious curiosity about his surrounding world. it was no shock to his academic mentors when he opted to apply to colleges in pursuit of a biology/pre-med degree. what was surprising was his choice of school -- rather than attend harvard, massachusetts institute of technology, or princeton ( his top three picks, all of which he was accepted to ), warner chose to attend arizona state university. though the choi family didn’t need to save the money, warner felt self-imposed pressure to be closer to his family, to make up for the colossal amount of time he spent away. while attending college, he supplemented his classes and expedited his dual degree by working as an EMT with the ASU emergency medical services. it was through this job that he met chase rutherford, the man who would later become his boyfriend -- and current fiancé.

warner has never been closeted. not really. being away for primary/secondary school and living on-campus at ASU helped him kind of just... exist happily without his parents knowing? but as his visits with the family grew more frequent given his collegiate location in state, it was only natural that eventually his parents put two-and-two together. and while they weren’t exactly unsupportive, there was a certain element of disappointment evident from his father. warner did a pretty adequate job of subduing his response to his father’s reaction, channeling his emotions into furthering himself in the medical field. pushing himself to make his father proud again.

( tw: death, grief ) currently, he works as a pediatric oncological nurse, which might perhaps aid in mending his relationship with his father. if, of course, his father were alive to see it. warner was only promoted to this position about three months ago -- his father died several weeks shy of witnessing his son become anything more than a standard physician’s assistant. knowing this absolutely haunts warner, but he refuses to talk about it. and the same goes for the tragic, sudden nature of his father’s death -- as well as the unsolved nature of the crime.

( tw: drug abuse, addictive behavior ) following his father’s death, the choi family has been in shambles. and with nothing being done to catch the person who stole away their patriarch’s life? it only seems natural that the crew would turn to... external... means of self-medicating. at the first sign of trouble, warner felt compelled to put an end to it, stage an intervention. but he knew what it was like, living in pain, and denying his family the right to feel better. the right not to feel at all. against his better judgment, he began forging painkiller prescriptions for his oncology patients and pocketing them once they were filled. it started as a covert operation for his mother and sister. 

the night of his father’s death when a little like this: “you had so much potential. wasted on such a small place in this world. call me when you have something notable to tell.” warner attempted to protest, to offer something more than himself, but he could only utter a stifled, “but -- you don’t understand --” before a loud bang sounded. a series of loud screeches, gasps, clattering as the other end of the line left his father’s hand. and then the line... went dead.

one afternoon, about a week into his medicinal misappropriation, the last words his father said to him on the night of his death wouldn’t relinquish their hold. the usual remedies didn’t work: deep breaths warranted no result. distracting himself with his work proved immaterial. there was no escape. so warner dipped into the bottle of pills he’d intended to hand over to his mother later that night. and he finally understood why she couldn’t possibly go without.

a valium here and there turned into a routine occurrence. a little something to get through work. a small dose to make the estate settlement more bearable. something to subdue the nightmares. everything became a valid reason for some supplementation by negation. maybe if he could shut off his mind, maybe if he could calm his nerves, maybe if he got high enough, it could all just... vanish. but sadly, that’s not how this kind of thing works. but no one’s really been able to tell warner that, since he’s kept this entire ordeal neatly tucked just below the surface. no one but his family knows -- because they’re all on the same derailing train.

some general notes about his PERSONALITY & QUIRKS :

he loves working with kids, and honestly, no better person could be chosen to work one-on-one every day with children diagnosed with terminal illnesses. warner has a certain serenity to his presence; he walks into a room and any remnants of strife vacate the premises. tension clears, like the atmosphere after fresh rain.

dude’s gotta wear scrubs at the hospital, but his personal sense of style consists mostly of fitted shirts, blazers, tailored pants, and wonderful statement shoes. this man knows how to dress.

the great british baking show is his latest inspiration. is he trying to make cupcakes right now? maybe. is he accidentally using baking powder instead of baking soda? uhm. oh. whoops.

honestly how did he survive going to school on the east coast? this dude is... such sunshine? so arizona? sees the best in everyone, refuses to be unkind even to the assholes of this universe. his version of an ill-wish goes a little something like: “y’know, i really hope they freak out about losing their keys only to then find them in their pocket.”

america runs on dunkin’ and warner runs on caffeine !! definitely more of a tea than a coffee fella, but he’ll take whatever he can get before/during/after a crazy shift.

winter green tic tacs have been his favorite thing since the third grade. hey. did you know if you chomp on them really hard in the dark with your mouth open, they’ll flash? no! seriously! you don’t believe me? hold on -- grab the lights. he’s done that to everyone he’s ever met/will continue to meet.

will NOT talk about his own feelings !!  he is an expert side-stepper, and he’ll find a way to swerve and avoid being the topic of discussion by spinning the concerns back onto you. call him on it, or don’t. he’ll still try to deflect.

lowkey sings? but only in the shower, in the car, or to people who ask nicely. or get him drunk. either or.

oh my god, he’s a tall & muscular guy -- 6′3 to be exact -- but he is such a lightweight. two glasses of wine have him all giggly and snuggly. one shot of tequila turns him into an epic flirt.

warner spends a lot of his free time doing crosswords, playing sudoku, and reading academic journals. human encyclopedia at your service. need some fun facts for your next group setting? look no further -- warner has an arsenal of extra knowledge at the ready.

um?? so in love with chase??? it’s like. someone will say his name, or so much as mention something remotely related to him, and warner will turn into the mushiest, gushiest little sap. you’re wearing a white t-shirt, huh? that reminds him of the one time chase wore a white t-shirt -- and now he’s grinning and blushing like a fool.

alright it’s late and this got rambly, but yes!! pls plot with me? i promise i’m nice and i can offer you hypothetical cookies!! i probably won’t be on the dash until tomorrow night because i have some plans ( hooray social life?? emphasis on the question marks there ).

so yeah, shoot me an message on here or hit that mfing like and i’ll come to you! i am so heckin hyped to write with all of you! x

[wordsablaze]

Salt Is The New Mistletoe

Magnus' love advice doesn't always suit everyone but while his heart is singing and the shadowhunter is pining, Simon manages to cook up some mutual confessions and share his traditions with Jace... Written for the Jimon Secret Snowflake!

A/N: We’ve all been revealed so it’s about time i post this. I hope you all enjoyed your festivities!

Simon throws his hands up in the air as he finally, finally stops pacing the living room of Magnus Bane.

"Are you done, Sammy?"

"Magnus, I know you know my name. And this is serious!"

Magnus sighs deeply but then stands up so he's directly in front of the vampire and blinks slowly. "Love you as I do, Sally, my advice to you will stay the same no matter how much you wear down my carpet."

"Sally isn't even remotely close to Simon!"

"Who's Sally?" Magnus asks, feigning innocence.

Simon just glares at him. "I can't just tell him!"

"Then sing it to him!" Magnus replies, trying to hide his exasperation at the perpetually angst-ridden teen.

Said angst-ridden teen opens his mouth to argue but then falls silent, his eyes darting back and forth as he seems to plan something. Magnus raises an eyebrow at the look but smiles to himself, pushing Simon into a seated position on the beanbags before heading to his study.

It's hours later when Simon finally stirs from his contemplative state and searches for Magnus. He ends up only finding a note written in literally dazzling cursive, a note that tells him he can leave at any time because the wards on the apartment have been temporarily modified for him.

Smiling, he heads to the park so he can find a quiet corner where he can write this song.

Within minutes, he's immersed in his notebook, perched on his side atop one of the most peculiar boulders in the area, but that's nothing new - he's known to be crammed into the smallest nook or the strangest cranny with his glasses stuck to his face as if they've been superglued.

It's strange how naturally the words flow when he's picturing those mismatched eyes, those golden locks of hair in the sunlight, or that swing of a seraph blade. The lyrics piece themselves together like patchwork and his handwriting morphs into an almost illegible scrawl in his rush to get the words down. He can feel himself falling into a zone he usually doesn't leave until he has a completed first draft.

"Simon?" a voice asks, and he jumps, dropping his notebook, losing his balance, diving after said notebook despite his lack of equilibrium, and eventually falling on his side.

"Sorry!" the same voice exclaims, except now it sounds bashful and surprised, not to mention rather similar to someone he knows…

"Jace?"

'Naturally blond' hair flies up and settles once again as Jace nods quickly. "The one and only."

"What are you doing here?" Simon pushes his glasses further up his nose for no reason other than to avoid staring at Jace's perfectly mismatched eyes.

"I, uh, wanted a walk."

"A… walk?" Simon echoes, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, you know, moving your legs and lifting your feet?"

"Are you suggesting I don't know how to walk?"

Jace, to Simon's shock, flushes a deep cherry red and shakes his head. "Of course you know how to walk, that's how you get in all those impressive- I mean, crazy positions all the time."

Simon grins to himself but nods slowly, trying to act confused. It doesn't last long, however, because his phone rings and he jumps at least half a metre into the air, his notebook once again flying out of his hands only to land at Jace's feet. His eyes wide, he immediately grabs it back before the shadowhunter can blink, his heart racing.

"Trouble?" Simon asks as his greeting after picking up the phone with a silent, bashful apology to Jace.

"What do you think of me? I went to your parents'…" Clary trails off.

Simon can tell Jace is staring but dismisses the thought. "You did? Did they say anything about, uh, well… me?"

"No." Clary pauses, and Simon swears he can hear sirens but she continues, "Whatever you and Magnus did… worked… I'm sorry?"

His eyes close for the briefest of moments but he tries not to feel bad about it and instead reaches for the pride that should arise from a plan carried out correctly. He shakes his head. "Uh, thanks, I'll see you?"

"You bet," Clary responds; Simon hangs up.

He pockets his phone and runs a hand through his hair, sighing.

"Everything okay?" Jace asks. Simon had almost forgotten he was there.

"Clary's fine. I mean, I thought I heard sirens but there's usually sirens around there so I'm guessing she's alright and-"

"Simon," Jace interrupts, a bemused expression on his face. "I don't care about Clary."

Simon blinks.

"Wait, that's not what I meant; I do care about Clary." Jace looks like he wants to whack his head on the nearest wall. "It's just that I wasn't asking about her."

"Then who were you asking about?"

After a moment's hesitation, Jace answers: "The most oblivious vampire in all of history, apparently."

Simon's brows furrow in confusion as he considers this before he puts two and two together, so to speak. "You mean me? You were asking about me?"

Jace rolls his eyes but then nods as if worried about Simon's response. Simon shakes his head at the thought, knowing that there's no way someone like Jace could care what he thought... Sadly.

"What about me?"

"Is everything okay?" Jace asks, his voice as kind as the concern in his eyes.

Simon realises that he'd been biting his lip in anticipation of the reply but he clears his throat as Jace sends him a comforting smile. "I, um- yeah, I'm good. Not as good as Mike, mind you, but better than Joyce. I mean, those lights were quite the feat and I think-"

"Simon." Jace's clearly amused but still sharp voice cuts into his growing tangent, causing him to pause his answer. "I have no idea what you're saying, you nerd."

"Remind me to introduce you to Netflix," Simon mutters to himself before coughing. "Uh, I'm good."

"Sure? Do you want- do you need help with anything or...?"

Simon opens his mouth to decline but changes his mind and worries his lower lip instead

"So you do need help?" Jace asks, trying not to sound overly eager.

He can't even admit to himself that he'd gone out with something in his brain wanting to find Simon, never mind admit it to anyone else out loud, especially not the nerdy vampire himself. Luckily, something else clicks in his brain and he gasps loud enough to make Simon jump before apologising and declaring, "It's Hanukkah soon, isn't it?"

If Simon's frozen smile and arched eyebrows are anything to go by, he's astonished.

Jace doesn't know if he should feel proud of inviting such a beautiful expression onto the vampire's face or if he should feel guilty for painting himself as a person who wouldn't care about other people's celebrations.

"Don't worry about it," Simon says eventually.

No way is Jace having that. "How can I help? Do you want me to- I mean, should I buy ingredients or whatever?" He resists the urge to clench his fists. "Got nothing better to do anyway…"

He'd added the last lie to try and tone down his eagerness but the way Simon's excitement dims a little makes him regret it with every fibre of his being.

A strange silence floats between them until Simon nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I could use your arms." He goes redder than a vampire should be able to. "I mean, an extra set of arms."

"What do we- you need?" Jace asks, confusing himself by wondering what's wrong with his arms then cursing at himself for overthinking Simon's words.

"I don't know yet, I'll have to check what I- oh. Um, actually, I have to check what the recipe is."

"You don't know it?" Jace asks, then digs his nails into his palms. "I mean, I thought you'd remember because you seem like someone with a good memory and this seems like another thing you could retain but it's absolutely if you don't because there's no pressure or anything…" He fizzles out as he sees Simon laugh.

"For someone who says 'I mean' a lot, you don't seem to be telling me what you really mean."

I can't, Jace thinks, because you would run away from me faster than you've ever run in your whole life.

"So, what do you need?" Jace asks, ignoring the twisting of his stomach and raking a hand through his hair.

"We probably need to take a trip to the supermarket or something," Simon says, "unless you have eggs and potatoes in your pockets?"

Jace snorts, then catches himself. "That's not funny."

"Are you sure?" Simon asks as he starts leading the way. "You seem pretty amused to me."

Following Simon, Jace decides not to reply at all, letting a strangely soothing silence fall upon them once again. The two of them walk in silence to the nearest shop before Simon freezes without warning; Jace crashes right into him and lets out a small yelp.

"I can't-" Simon's statement stops as abruptly as his movement a few seconds ago.

"What is it?" Jace asks.

Simon shakes his head, nervously wringing his hands. "These people… They all know me. I can't go in… I can't…"

Jace has never before acted upon his small desire to wrap an arm around Simon's shoulders but he swallows his anxiety and does so, sending the vampire what he hopes is a comforting smile. "I'll do it for you, they won't be able to see you."

"You will?"

"Yeah, I'll be able to see you," Jace replies, pulling his arm back after a small attempted pat of reassurance.

Simon smiles. "No, I mean, you'd do that for me?"

Oh. Jace can't form words that accurately describe how willing he is to help Simon and how long he's wanted to do something that shows he cares so he just nods, raising an eyebrow. "Like I said, I've got nothing better to do."

When he says that, he doesn't mean to say he's only doing this because nothing else has come up. He literally means that helping Simon and trying to show he cares is the most enjoyable scenario he can imagine but, sadly, Simon doesn't seem to understand what he's trying to say. A part of Jace wishes he could explain but his fear of the endless potentially catastrophic outcomes stops him from doing so.

They sort out the runes and things needed for their arrangement, Jace swallowing the deep regret in his chest that doesn't seem to make sense but he can't find a way to stop it, to explain it, to unravel it.

"Right, what's first?" Jace asks, making sure his voice doesn't give anything away.

"Uh, potatoes," Simon answers, so the two of them enter the shop, Jace confident and full of smiles, Simon jittery and nervous.

"Why are there six different kinds of potatoes?" Jace mutters under his breath.

The woman beside him almost crashes into Simon with her violent jump of shock. She squints at Jace as if analysing him, then smiles. "What is it you're making, dear?"

Jace blanches, looking to Simon with a bemused expression. Simon laughs for a second but then mouths 'potato latkes' to him, which he then repeats, almost certain he's pronouncing it wrong. Luckily, the woman smiles at him and pats his head. "How kind of you."

"Sorry?"

"Well, you're making this for someone special, right?"

"Uh…" Jace considers her expression and decides it's best to agree. "Yes."

With a soft smile, the woman starts explaining potatoes to him in such detail he can't help wondering why she's not written a book on them yet. Nevertheless, he listens to her explaining about the vegetable for almost five minutes, then politely thanks her and goes to the till so he can pay.

"There's more to buy, you know?" Simon speaks up for the first time since he'd agreed he was making the latkes for someone special.

Jace waits until the potatoes are in a bag and he's out of the shop before replying. "I am not spending another moment in the vicinity of a woman obsessed with potatoes."

"Wouldn't want to ruin your perfect hair, would you?" Simon mutters, rolling his eyes.

"You think my hair's perfect?" Jace questions, his ego fluttering with happiness.

Simon snorts. "As if."

Simon doesn't know if he regrets saying that or not. Something inside of him is glad to have gotten away with such a remark where most people would be glared at or punched but another part of him decides that the diminishing amusement – or whatever it is in Jace's alluring eyes – isn't worth the snippet of satisfaction.

"So, where else?"

"That's all we need actually, Magnus said I can use his kitchen until… well, forever."

"What about him and… you know, Alec? Won't they be, uh, busy?"

Simon chuckles at how awkward Jace sounds talking about something he's no stranger to but shakes his head anyway. "Nah, they're in Brazil or something."

"Brazil? Alec didn't tell me they were going to Brazil…"

"He wouldn't have known." Simon waves a hand. "Magnus planned it as a surprise."

Jace nods, visibly relieved, but then frowns. "How do you know?"

Choosing not to reveal his song-writing decision or his pretty open but probably not as open as he thinks friendship with Magnus, he shrugs. "Overheard some stuff."

Despite being evidently suspicious, Jace accepts that answer. "Are we going to Magnus' place then?"

"You're coming?" Simon asks, shocked.

"I don't have t- If you're not comfortable or-"

"No, no, I just… I thought you'd be busy or something." Simon winces at the weak excuse but keeps his eyes on the shine in Jace's eyes, not wanting to miss a second of it.

"Nothing better to do, remember?" Jace smiles and Simon can tell he isn't saying what he truly means but he doesn't think it's his place to point that out.

And so, with a touch of tension and heaps of curiosity hanging between them, they make their way to Magnus' apartment, Jace carrying the bag of potatoes so he has something to clench his hands around.

"Wait, doesn't Magnus have wards around his apartment?" Jace asks as they climb the stairs in his building.

Simon bites his lip for a moment, considering. "Yeah… But let's try anyway…"

Jace looks mightily dubious but nods, the two of them knocking on the door together.

Simon's eyes widen as the door opens without any trouble; Magnus must have anticipated the two of them coming back together. No wonder he's the high warlock of Brooklyn.

"Well, shut the door, would you?" Jace calls to Simon as he walks into Magnus' kitchen, opening the bag of potatoes.

"How do you know your way around this place?" Simon asks after shutting the door and staring at Jace's hair for an entire minute.

Jace stays silent for the longest two minutes of eternity before shrugging almost nonchalantly. "Alec."

"Alec?" Simon echoes, turning behind him, half expecting to see said shadowhunter.

Chuckling, Jace shakes his head. "No, I mean- I mean I'm usually the one who has to come and find Alec when he's stayed here…"

Simon nods understandingly even though he doesn't understand. He can't tell if he's crazy or kind but it doesn't really matter, the only important thing being Jace and his rather flimsy explanation. A large part of him would love to believe Alec is the only reason to visit Magnus' but a small part of his heart can't stop nagging his brain, saying that Jace himself may have been in trouble, Jace himself may have needed Magnus' help.

He shakes his head, killing the thought. Turning to Jace, he smiles. "Right, do you want to beat the eggs?"

Jace blinks. "Beat them at what?"

There's a second of shock before Simon bursts out laughing, doubling over and one hand flying to his glasses to make sure they don't fall off and break. He doesn't even know why he wears them anymore – he doesn't need them – but it's probably something to do with sentiment and he'd rather not explore that anytime soon.

"You don't know how to beat an egg?" He breathes, his hysteria died down considerably.

"What am I supposed to beat them at?" Jace repeats as if asking the question a second time can make it any more acceptable and not completely wrong.

"You don't know…? Never mind. I have a new plan: sit back and watch," Simon orders, shaking his head.

"Sit and watch? Have you met me?"

"Unfortunately."

Jace groans loudly, rolling his mismatched eyes and lifting himself onto the counter. It wouldn't be a problem but he just watches as Simon dances around the kitchen and grabs the ingredients Jace passes him, doing whatever he has to do with them. He doesn't know what it is about the shadowhunter watching that makes him nervous, but he has butterflies nonetheless.

"Is there something on my face?" Simon asks as he stops to take a breath he doesn't really need. "You've been staring at me for the past six minutes."

Jace jumps and hits his head on the cupboard, immediately wincing and sliding off the counter only to overbalance and crash into Simon, both of them groaning as they beeline to the floor, landing with two soft thuds and the potential for a matching set of bruises.

"Sorry, Lewis." Jace coughs awkwardly, pulling himself up. "My bad."

"That doesn't make it any better," Simon groans, grabbing the bar stool and propping himself up on the counter. "In fact, that almost makes it worse."

Jace smiles, a genuine smile that lights up and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

Simon finds himself smiling at Jace in return without having to force the gesture. It's just something about Jace's bright eyes and hopeful aura that you can't refuse – it's basically a crime to turn away from him. It's a crime Simon would love to commit because it would save him the ache in his chest.

"Pass me the onions?" he asks, trying to change the atmosphere.

"Which ones?" Jace points at the basket of onions. "There are at least four different types here."

"The ones that look easiest to chop?" Simon suggests, making a note to inquire why the High Warlock of Brooklyn needs so many different onions.

He hears Jace mutter something but there's an onion in front of him before he can complain so he just salutes in half-mocking gratitude and carries on preparing the dish.

"You have flour on your face!" Jace informs Simon, already moving forward to get rid of said ingredient.

Simon flinches ever so slightly but leans into Jace's touch as the offending flour is wiped away. Without missing a beat, the two of them lock gazes, their eyes reflecting the confusion and concern they're both feeling. There's a hesitation in Simon's eyes that Jace hasn't seen before, a hesitation he'd never expected of the nerd.

"Why aren't you celebrating with your family?" Jace asks softly.

"They don't remember me," Simon replies eventually, just when Jace has decided he should give up on his curiosity.

Jace must frown because Simon steps back, shaking his head. "It's stupid, I know, I just couldn't stand them..."

"Thinking you weren't yourself and needed fixing?" Jace suggests.

Looking back up at him with a smile, Simon nods. "Yeah, exactly."

Something beeps before the conversation can become any more emotional and Simon moves to stop the infuriating noise so they don't both pull their hair out in desperation. Jace watches, rubbing a finger over the courage rune on his wrist, and smiles as Simon expertly manoeuvre his way around the kitchen as if it was his own house.

Once everything is safe and silent – aside from the gentle hiss of the stove – Simon turns back to Jace and Jace genuinely feels his heart lighten at the thought of someone immediately turning to him just because they can.

"They're not really my family anymore, you know?"

"Huh?"

Simon swallows and carries on. "My parents… they're not really my family. They're the old Simon's family, the human Simon's family. And um- they, uh, they wouldn't want a vampire for son- for a son."

Jace's heart melts and freezes simultaneously. He can't decide if he wants to hug someone or punch something so he chooses to do nothing, letting Simon breathe deeply.

"I don't even need anyone that- anyone to need me, you know? I just… I just want to celebrate with a people- with people that accept me?"

"I accept you," Jace whispers softly. "I will always accept you."

Simon's smile could illuminate a tunnel of despair.

Jace coughs, unsure of himself for once, "And don't you worry, we'll find your pretty face a partner."

"What?"

"There must be someone you like, right?" Jace raises an eyebrow as he pretends not to be cursing himself internally.

Simon blankly stares at him for a few seconds, then chuckles. "Are we really doing this?"

Unfortunately, they have to wait until Simon takes the potato latkas off the stove before the conversation can continue. Even as the vampire does something as simple as removing a pan or whatever it's called, Jace wants to scream his appreciation and do something to wipe the underlying sadness away from him.

"I'm not good at talking about this kind of stuff," Simon says immediately, "but I can sing it for you."

"Sing it?" Jace questions.

"Sure." Simon shrugs. "It's just like performing at Hunter Moon, but with less of an audience."

"I count for at least ten people, right?" Jace winks.

Simon's smile might be small but it's still a smile and Jace is happy to see it there. He follows Simon into what he assumes is the guest room and waits as he assembles his performing equipment.

There's an uncanny lullaby hidden in the melody of Simon's music, one that evokes a happiness inside of him he didn't know he had. Despite the foundation of bliss in the beats, Simon's words are heartfelt and touching, speaking of loves and pains and impossible decisions. Jace doesn't recognise who Simon is singing about in his gentle voice until there's a verse talking about the mysterious person's eyes: it would be hard not to recognise someone describing his own.

He waits for Simon to finish, his mind whirling and his heart just hoping.

"You wrote a song about me?"

Simon shakes his head and for one, chilling moment, Jace thinks he's messed up big-time but the vampire's action is accompanied by a shrug and a whisper: "Obviously."

Jace doesn't know what to say. He's heard a plethora of love confessions in the past but never from someone he's willing to sacrifice his beauty sleep for.

"You think my face is pretty?" Simon asks before Jace can form words in response to the song; speech is never usually a problem for him but music has never been so beautiful.

"The prettiest."

Simon smiles, apparently finding out all he needs from those two words.

He takes a small step forwards, smiling slyly. "You, uh, you have salt on your face."

Apparently, sodium chloride can now be used as an excuse to reveal and display affection; Simon leans forward and plants a small, gentle kiss on Jace's cheek.

Jace almost shivers and swallows before shaking his head. He sees Simon look worried but decides to carry on instead of trying to explain. "You can't get away with that."

"I'm sorry, I thought yo- oh!" Simon practically squeaks as Jace makes his move, this time landing a tiny kiss on Simon's lips with a classic Herondale smirk.

Simon doesn't know how to describe the emotions bubbling inside of him so he just grins widely, pushing his glasses up onto his face and trying not to literally bounce off the walls in excitement.

"Your, uh, potato things?" Jace coughs, flushed.

Raking his slightly shaking fingers through his hair, Simon nods and clears his throat, trying not to focus on his tingling skin. "Right. The Latkes!"

Five minutes later, there's a plate of potato latkes sitting on a plate in between the two of them.

Simon offers Jace the first one, purely to try and exile the tension in the room, but Jace shakes his head. "I think there's something missing."

"What?" Simon asks, alarmed.

Jace winks again, giving Simon a chance to lose himself in the colours of his eyes, and stands up, moving to grab something from the counter behind them. He genuinely has no idea what the shadowhunter is doing until the bottle of salt is placed in front of him.

"I think it needs a pinch of salt, don't you?"

It's hard to contain his grin as he nods slowly. "Maybe more than a pinch?"

Then, both of them completely ignoring the salt despite its existence being the trigger to their current situation, they kiss once again. This time, it's all out and proper, tasting of salt and warmth, potatoes and joy, relief and love.

When they pull away to catch their breath, Jace beams. "Who needs mistletoe when you have salt?"

"Definitely not us," Simon replies, still breathing heavily.

Their interlocked fingers and matching smiles are more than worth the awkward silences and tense moments they'd had to experience. As they share a lovingly sly look, Simon decides he couldn't possibly ask for anyone better to celebrate with, anyone better to share his traditions with, anyone better to love.

Jace coughs. "So, uh, for the record, I might- well, I probably don't really hate you…"

Simon just smiles fondly. "I love you too."

He's going to have to thank Magnus' salt for this one.

like/reblog but don’t repsot, thanks!

[ais-n]

Hi there! Wanted to say a HUGE THANK YOU to you and santino for creating ICOS its an amazing series! love the characters, love the plot, even love the pain it comes with. boyd especially is my favorite character :) hope you dont mind, i have a couple of questions (fade related):1. how would boyd have gone about telling everything to danny had carhart not interrupted him? 2. does he have any triggers from the forakis mission that affect his relationship with hsin?

***FADE SPOILERS IN ANSWER - just an FYI for anyone who needs it :)***

Hi :) Thank you! I’m happy you like the series! Thank you for taking the time to read the long ass story and also reach out :) I don’t mind at all – I will just put the answers behind a cut for anyone who hasn’t gotten that far yet :) (Same reason for the bold at the top of this, sorry!) Also, sorry it took me awhile to get back to you.

!!**SPOILERS** FOR FADE BENEATH CUT!! (Also, long post beneath cut)

1) I had the whole thing planned out in my head at one point but I’ve forgotten the nuances since then. But from what I recall, he basically had planned to start the whole thing with a “look, I know you’re going to think I’m insane when I start telling you all this but please hear me out” sort of disclaimer. Then he probably would have gauged Danny’s response and his seeming level of skepticism from that disclaimer alone, and determined his best way forward. 

One way would be to just get right into the explanation and try to push Danny’s incredulous questions to the end after he’d gotten through everything. This way led the risk of Danny shutting down on the whole thing and not listening at all.

The other way would be to start out asking pointed and detailed questions designed to poke holes in the understanding Danny has of his situation–the things that don’t really add up, because they aren’t actually real–and then when Danny is starting to get kind of thrown off acknowledging some of those oddities, Boyd was going to give him the full, real explanation of what was going on behind the scenes, tying everything together for Danny to realize how the truth, as bizarre as it probably would seem to him, still makes a lot more sense than the truth he thought he knew. This way led the risk of Danny feeling like Boyd was being condescending or not truthful enough by dragging it out.

Either way, he would have planned to provide him as much evidence as he had available. If he had pictures on his phone, he would show those. Or if he had old drawings or whatever else, he’d do that. Basically, it would be whatever he had that was close enough to the evidence Danny eventually finds, to prove it further. He also was planning to do his best to prove these weren’t the edited doings of a crazed man who photoshopped him into pictures or sat around creepily drawing his pictures and backdating them.

There was a slight possibility that Danny would hear all this and go, “Oh wow, this all makes sense. I believe you.” But Boyd figured that chance was pretty small, all things considered. The conversation was far too life-altering and would seem far too crazy for it to be likely that Danny would accept it without question. He expected Danny to be not just skeptical, but to tell him he was outright insane and to fuck off for a bit. He figured it was best to plan for that as a worse (but not worst) case scenario, so that it would give him the opportunity to plan ahead to try to keep Danny safe in the meantime before Danny accepted everything.

(Boyd saw the worst case scenario as something like Danny getting up mid-story, calling the cops on Boyd for being a stalker or insane, cutting all ties with Boyd and maybe even trying to pursue legal action like an order for protection to keep him away, Janus and the Agency catching wind of all of this, Danny being subjected to experiments and sent by the Agency to somewhere Boyd couldn’t find, the Agency turning on Boyd and his friends in the assumption that they knew about all of this too, his friends being hurt or tortured, Boyd being strapped down somewhere and left to die a torturous death with his mind descending into insanity, Danny dying in the experiments or getting really fucked up or somehow living his life without freedom or happiness, and just generally everything going completely to hell. There were other scenarios like Danny freaking out and accidentally killing Boyd, thereby also fucking up Danny’s future, but Boyd figured that wasn’t worst case scenario because there was a chance Danny could still be found by loved ones as a result of the fallout of that happening, but other ways like his worst case scenario wouldn’t involve that possibility.)

Assuming Danny let him talk to the end, he would have very, very strongly pushed Danny to leave immediately after hearing all of this, as a way to protect him. He would ask Danny to go, even if Danny had to think of it as a sudden impromptu vacation and not a permanent life change, because who would upend their life suddenly for what could be the ravings of a paranoid madman? Boyd would do everything in his power to prove to Danny why that was a very necessary step to take, regardless of how insane he thought Boyd was by that time.

And although he was more than willing to run with Danny, he assumed Danny would think he was crazy and would not want him to go with even if Boyd was able to convince him to leave.

So, honestly, Boyd figured what was most likely to happen would be he would tell Danny everything, Danny would be in denial and would understandably think Boyd was totally off his rocker, but Danny would recognize at least that Janus and others were a concern so maybe he could get Danny to leave even just for that, even if Danny thought it was a temporary thing. Maybe Danny would trust at least that Boyd, due to his job, knew a better way for safe passage for Danny than Danny would easily and quickly be able to scrounge up for himself. Boyd was planning to all but force Danny to take the safe route Boyd would have prepared for him, to try to protect him. 

Assuming Danny didn’t want him to go with for whatever reason, Boyd was going to tell Danny he loved him when Danny left, and then Boyd figured he would never see him again. He figured eventually Danny would come to grips with what happened, and would accept the truth on some level whether or not he liked it. But Boyd knew that if he told Danny everything, and if Danny fled Annadale, then the Agency wouldn’t be long behind. And he couldn’t let that happen. Nor could he risk any of his friends back at the Agency getting implicated in anything, if the Agency thought he’d told them everything. 

So his plan was to make sure Danny got away safely, make sure Danny was in the hands of someone or some process that wouldn’t let him do something stupid like come right back to Annadale before he realized the truth, and then Boyd would go back to the Agency and either wait for them to realize what he had done (which would give Danny more time to get away), or depending on the circumstances and whether he felt Danny needed more protection, he might find a way to send false positives about Danny sightings to the Agency in an automated way that would continue to protect Danny into the future. He may have also attempted to break into areas of the Agency to further this goal by fucking with their systems or trying to delete information about Danny in the computer system or whatever it was he learned would help and he was capable of doing.

Regardless, he knew that as soon as Danny was gone and if he didn’t go with him, then it was only a matter of time until the Agency realized what Boyd had done.

So, Boyd knew if he didn’t go with Danny, he was dead.

He planned to delay and confuse the Agency as long as possible and automate as much as he could so Danny would continue to have protection going into the future even after Boyd’s death. Boyd figured that ultimately the Agency would go after him to find out where Danny was, and Boyd assumed he would die a slow, torturous death of them trying to get that information from him. His main goal in all of that was to make sure the Agency didn’t get anything from him that could endanger Danny, or endanger any of Boyd’s friends. He wanted to make sure it was clear to the Agency that he hadn’t told the others anything, so they wouldn’t be a target of the Agency’s wrath as well once he was gone.

He did worry about his friends back in the Agency if Danny decided to ask Boyd to go with him, but he still planned to go with in that event because he wanted to be there to protect and support Danny–to make sure the Agency never got him.

From Boyd’s assumptions about how everything would play out, he saw the conversation with Danny as a literally life or death situation, not just for Danny but also for himself. Telling Danny the truth meant endangering Danny, and potentially signing his own death warrant. But he would have done it regardless of the consequences on himself, because he felt at that time that Danny was getting too close to danger without the information, and he didn’t know how else to protect Danny or make sure he could remain safe, happy, and free far into the future. That goal was more important to Boyd than anything else.

I’m not sure if anyone will think any of that sounds a bit dramatic, but Boyd’s mindset was that the Agency would try to kill him and try to recover Danny at all costs, which ended up being accurate to what was seen later. He may or may not have been right about specifics about how it could have gone down, but the stakes of that conversation were quite high in the long run, so he would have tried to prepare for all the variations as best he could, while assuming something would go wrong in the process, because Boyd’s experience was something almost always went wrong when it came to the Agency.

He figured a sacrifice was inevitable at those high of stakes and considering the circumstances and the wrath the Agency was likely to have. When it came down to it, the only sacrifice he felt safe offering for the protection of everyone else was sacrificing himself so everyone else could stay as safe and free as possible. So his plan was built as much around shielding everyone else and giving Danny as much of a safety buffer as possible, with Boyd being the main way of trying to throw the Agency off as long as possible with false information or misleading clues. That was, he figured, the best way for him to try to control as many variables as possible to extend Danny’s safety net as long as Boyd could hold out.

This may all seem a bit tangential to mention but I mention it because Boyd would have been thinking about all of this when he went into his conversation with Danny, so he would have been adjusting the way he said things and how quickly he brought up new information based on how Danny was reacting, because his ultimate goal had to be to get Danny out of there immediately, and to stay gone, and for that he needed Danny to trust him enough to believe at least that the imminent danger to Danny was real and that Boyd’s offered escape was safe, even if Danny didn’t believe everything. All of that would have greatly affected exactly how that conversation went.

2) There probably were, especially in the beginning. I could see there still being some now… it’s a little hard to say because we haven’t written much interaction of their relationship as it is now, and a lot of times with Boyd I don’t always know how he’ll react to something until I’m at that moment in that scene in his mind. There are times I think he’d react one way when thinking about that scene ahead of time but we get there and he reacts a totally different way. I always go with it because it makes sense for him as a person, and it reminds me constantly that I am not him so I can’t always speak for him properly. That may sound like a weird thing to say about a character and it probably sounds cheesy for me to say but I think of characters like real people–I may have an insight into their mindset from knowing them so well, but I don’t always know what they will do or how they will feel until I’m at that moment writing it out.

I know he does have residual issues from that mission and also from everything with Janus later in Fade, because it all fed together. 

Things that I know specifically would trigger him or freak him the fuck out include some of the things we already saw referenced or implied in Fade, like:

**Him having a panic attack aversion to the idea of having to perform on screen or have any sort of sexual or intimate interaction with Hsin for the gratification of others. Depending on how thrown off he is, this could transfer to other, more innocuous situations too, like he could potentially freak out even if it’s just him doing something non-intimate and non-sexual with Hsin and others watching/commenting/paying a lot of attention to it. If they’re in a setting where there are a lot of bright lights aimed at them, people watching their every move, maybe cameras going, people commenting on him, basically something that could throw him back into a flashback of filming the videos or being forced to perform for/with groups/etc, then even something like, let’s say, Hsin/Boyd doing a training exercise to show others how to fight against mods using two different skill sets (Hsin’s and Boyd’s) could potentially trigger him into some sort of panicked, dissociated reaction. Or he may not have any problems at all.

**He may similarly have panicked reactions to porn videos, and absolutely would freak out if he thought Hsin ran across one he was in. He’s never told Hsin the extent of any of that and doesn’t want him to know about the movies he was in, let alone have Hsin ever see them. Although he would definitely react negatively to one with him in it, if there were some other porn video playing there’s a possibility he wouldn’t freak out after all. It’s hard to say, but I do think that’s pretty likely to be a stressor for him.

**He’s now freaked the fuck out over the idea of being drugged, which might extend at times to a distrust even of taking lower level medication he would have taken without a thought in the past, like Advil or Tylenol. He doesn’t at all trust people coming at him with a syringe and might react violently if he’s already feeling vulnerable. Although this isn’t likely to come into play for Hsin and Boyd’s sexual relationship, it’s something that potentially could have come up at times if Boyd, say, had a really bad headache or was hurt or something and if Hsin for some reason thought he should take medication and Boyd was really hesitant. He would 100% trust Hsin but he wouldn’t trust who made or provided the medicine to Hsin for Boyd, depending on the situation. It may not be a problem if he feels like Hsin verified everything, because he trusts Hsin to protect him and make sure he won’t take anything unsafe. In some circumstances, absolutely the only way he would allow someone to administer drugs to him is if Hsin is there and will be there the whole time and saw the drugs be put into his IV or whatever it’s in. Even then, he may be really leery because he may be afraid of showing a side of himself to Hsin that he’s ashamed of, if he’s afraid the drug will be some sort of aphrodisiac or similar. But then, as always, there are also other circumstances where he might take the medication without freaking out.

**From an intimate or sexual standpoint, I don’t know. That’s a lot harder because he trusts Hsin not only with his life but also with his sanity, his heart, and his body. His phobias and triggers all tie into the same idea: losing control, and especially having that vulnerability then used against him. That can be said about his fear of being held down, his fear of drowning, and then the fears and triggers he developed after Alexio and after Janus and even after the Agency. 

He gets to a point where he almost entirely loses his fear of losing control around Hsin, because he knows Hsin won’t use it against him. But he still has a fear of losing himself. Even if he knows Hsin will love him no matter what, the idea of turning into Cameron around Hsin is absolutely horrifying to Boyd. He feels like being Cameron takes power away from him. He loses control of himself, even if it isn’t due to others taking that control from him, if that makes sense.

So I think that implicit and unshakable trust he has with Hsin is one hugely comforting part of being around Hsin and might do a lot to fight against triggers or extreme reactions he may otherwise have. But at the same time, no matter how much he loves and trusts Hsin, being triggered or having an extreme reaction isn’t a question of love or trust, nor does he always have control over whether it will happen. It’s a question of brain chemistry and memories and human psychology, all of which are things that can work autonomously from logic or his thoughts or feelings on a topic.

So it’s hard to say because I think those are two very powerful forces, and whether it affects his relationship with Hsin depends entirely on what force wins out and what was the impetus for the stress in the first place. 

That may seem like a non-answer and if so, sorry! I just don’t know for sure yes/no because there are too many extenuating factors to know for sure.

Hopefully all of this makes sense. I ended up replying to this pretty late at night which means I’m more talkative even than normal but also sometimes I word things super confusingly and go on tangents. If I didn’t answer something properly, let me know :) And I hope you have a great day!

[kuriquinn]

Run Him

Disclaimer & Masterpost 

Summary: Naruto never thought that he would miss the days of rescuing cats, but a month following the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, he learns a new appreciation for the word "boredom". Which is why when the former members of Team 8 arrive one morning and announce they are taking him on an outing, he practically drags them out of the building before they get the words out.

Naruto never thought that he would miss the days of rescuing cats, but a month following the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, he learns a new appreciation for the word "boredom".

Which is why when the former members of Team 8 arrive one morning and announce they are taking him on an outing (or rather, Kiba announces; Hinata nods shyly from beside Akamaru, while Shino lurks in his creepy-ass coat), he practically drags them out of the building before they get the words out.

(Well, drags Hinata, anyhow; she's closest to him, and he only has the one arm – but the others follow him, shouting for him to slow down for several blocks.)

His own team is busy these days – Kakashi with Hokage business, Sakura rehabilitating the countless men and women injured in battle, Sai ferrying important dignitaries between the shinobi villages with his beast scrolls, and Sasuke –

Well, Sasuke's in prison.

It's a fact which pisses Naruto off to no end, but which no amount of complaining to Tsunade or Kakashi seems to fix. He's pretty sure Konoha's Elders have something to do with how long it's taking (and possibly the rest of the Kage still taking exception to Sasuke's mad declaration of wanting to kill them) but that's no excuse. In his mind, Sasuke's actions would never have reached such serious levels if the village (and his family) hadn't royally screwed him over from the beginning. It seems unfair that he now has to pay for the things he's done when he wasn't even in his right mind at the time he committed them.

Even Orochimaru is on the verge of being pardoned these days, what's up with that?

"Hey! Would you slow the hell down?" Kiba demands when the rest of Hinata's team catch up with them. "If the hospital staff finds out we let you run around unsupervised, they'll probably ban us from the hospital."

"We do have a very specific agreement," Shino adds. "We have to keep an eye on you at all times, and ensure you return at a reasonable hour."

"So you're basically babysitting me?" Naruto raises an eyebrow.

"Sort of," Hinata agrees with a tiny smile. "I'm sure it's just because everyone is worried about you."

And Naruto can't help grin at that, because it's just like Hinata to try to spin a situation so that no one is left looking like the bad guy. The more time passes, the more he's beginning to realise what a totally awesome person she is.

"Well, thanks anyway!" he says. "I was going to go crazy if I didn't get out of there soon! Iruka-sensei's a total slave-driver with all those books!"

He knew becoming Hokage was going to take some work, but he didn't think it was going to involve so much book learning. Angry ancient gods? No problem – mastering the different levels of government in a shinobi village, learning about the division of powers between kage and daimyo and mastering the requisite number of jutsu needed to be considered Hokage?

He's really beginning to miss training on Mount Myōboku.

"You do still have to back at the end of the day," Shino points out, "it's not like you're free forever."

"Way to be a downer, man," Kiba snorts.

"But you're doing alright otherwise, right, Naruto?" Hinata asks in soft concern, as they head out of the more populated part of the village toward the forests that house the training areas.

"Of course! I mean, my brain might explode from all of the stuff he's making me learn about, but he always brings me ramen from Ichiraku, so it's okay!"

Hinata smiles warmly. "Ah. I was actually wondering about your arm. Does it hurt you very much?"

"Nah, not at all – I mean, it's still kind of weird getting used to it – especially when I want to pick something up and then I remember there's nothing actually there to grab with, but it doesn't hurt." He shrugs – in the big scheme of things, losing an arm isn't the end of his world. He saved Sasuke and he kept his promise of a lifetime to Sakura; losing the arm was worth it. "Besides, I'm going to get a new one soon, since Granny Tsunade's working on getting me a prophylactic."

Kiba sniggers.

Hinata's cheeks turn pink. "Uh…Naruto, I…I think you mean prosthetic."

"That's what I said, wasn't it?"

"Actually –" Shino begins.

"No, no, you got it right the first time," Kiba interrupts, mouth wide with a grin Naruto has learned to never trust. "The Hokage's spending all her energy getting you a prophylactic. Any plans on who you want to try it out with?"

"Kiba!" Hinata squeaks, still sounding inexplicably mortified.

Naruto glares. "I'll try it out on you, if you don't tell me what's so funny."

"Sorry, man, I don't swing that way…"

Akamaru barks out a laugh, and Naruto turns to Shino with the hopes of him translating, but Hinata interjects.

"What about Sasuke?" she says, very quickly and frazzled sounding. "Is he doing alright as well?"

Naruto's annoyance gives way to solemnity, and he sighs, "I think so. No one's allowed to see him until Kakashi figures out how to deal with all the trouble he got into. It's taking forever."

"Oh. I thought I heard Ino say that Sakura's started visiting him?"

"I bet he's hoping she'll get him a prophylactic, if you know what I mean…"

"Kiba. The joke is over," Shino states coolly.

"Sakura has special permission," Naruto explains, frowning at the dark-haired boy. "She's the only person the miserable bastard will let check on his arm, other than Granny Tsunade. It'd be just like Sasuke to let his arm fester out of stubbornness."

And…I'm pretty sure even hard-asses like Ibiki know better than to tell Sakura she can't do something, especially after the stuff she pulled off during the war.

"Oh. Well, I'm happy for Sakura then," Hinata says placidly. "And I'm sure he'll be released soon."

"Yeah…" Naruto trails off; he can't help think it's a lot more complicated than that.

"Baaah!" Kiba groans loudly, mussing up his hair in annoyance. "All this talk is getting way too depressing. We didn't break you out of the hospital to talk about boring shit – let's do something fun!"

"Tactful as ever, Kiba," Shino deadpans.

"Fun?" Naruto repeats. "Like what?"

"Like…" Kiba trails off, glancing around and then suddenly lets out a loud laugh. "Like that! Look!" He points across the familiar forest expanse, indicating a familiar tall tree in the distance. Naruto recognises it immediately as the tree where all the boys used to compete with one another as kids. "Let's race – and Hinata can see who wins!"

Shino sighs. "Choosing to run a race with someone that's been injured isn't exactly a fair test of your abilities, you know."

"Well how else is Naruto going to get back into decent shape?" Kiba retorts. "Lifting books over his head and building up a resistance to crappy hospital food? Nah! Getting beaten by me is a much better motivator."

"Hah! If you think it'll be that easy, you're on!" Naruto shoots back.

"Oh, but – Naruto, wait!" Hinata begins, but the two boys are already charging up the hill to the traditional starting line.

He appreciates the concern, really, but Kiba's idea has him excited for the first time in a while. He hasn't been able to stretch his legs since coming back home.

It's not like I need an arm to run…

Or so he thinks; as it turns out, just hurrying to the tree with Kiba is a chore because his center of balance has completely shifted. He wonders briefly if Kiba might not have the advantage in this little contest after all, when Akamaru catches up with them both and begins to gnaw at Kiba's right arm.

"Hey, what gives, Akamaru?" the Inuzuka boy demands, trying to pull away from his canine partner in annoyance. The dog is relentless, however, and eventually pulls Kiba's jacket almost entirely off of him, leaving one arm trapped within the folds of leather.

"It would appear that Akamaru thinks you should have a handicap as well, to ensure fairness," Shino points out. "In this way, both of you will have to adjust your balance to compensate."

"Woof!"

"Traitor," Kiba mutters.

"I think that's a better idea," Hinata agrees.

Kiba rolls his eyes, as if he's being completely imposed on, but says, "Fine. But I'm still going to kick your ass, Naruto!"

"Bring it, dog breath!"

The words aren't said with actual malice, and as Naruto hunches over to prepare to run, he reflects how much he's missed competing with Kiba. Their rivalry is nowhere near as all-encompassing as the one Naruto has always had with Sasuke, but at the same time, they still push each other to do their best.

"Ready, set – go!"

Naruto wins, but only just.

And it hardly counts, because just afterwards, he trips on a rock and ends up rolling all the way back down the hill. He'd smack headfirst into a tree if it weren't for Hinata miraculously appearing at the last second and grabbing hold of him.

Well, grabbing hold is probably the politest way to put it.

'Providing cushioning with her rather substantial chest' might be a more accurate statement, but Naruto really doesn't want to be haunted by Neji Hyūga the rest of his life for thinking such a thing.

At least, he doesn't think he does.

"Serves him right," Kiba mutters as he and Shino wander over while Naruto picks himself up. "Geez, even with a gimpy arm he still wins…"

He trails off in muttering, and then yelps as Akamaru lightly nips at his shoulder in reprimand.

"If winning is what you are truly worried about, I know of a contest that Naruto would find challenging to win," Shino begins.

"Oh yeah?" Naruto counters, pretending to examine his nails (it's a less impressive feat with only one hand). "I dunno, Shino, I'm pretty awesome."

"See, this is why I need to beat him, he's getting a big head," Kiba grumbles.

"We should have a ramen eating contest," Shino concludes, causing his teammate to whirl around and yell, "What the hell! Are you joking? That's the worse idea ever!"

"I dunno, I kind of like it," Naruto sniggers. "And I'm hungry anyway right now, so…"

"Neither of you allowed me to finish," Shino points out, sounding aggravated.

Kiba and Naruto peer at him, askance.

"I propose a ramen-eating contest between Naruto – and Hinata."

Hinata squeaks at this, eyes wide, and Naruto's shoulders slump while Kiba punches the air.

"Yes!"

"No way!" Naruto complains. "You can't propose a contest I have no chance of winning! What happened to fairness?"

"Sure we can – and hey! Let's make it interesting this time and make a bet!" Kiba declares happily as they head back toward the village proper.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Hinata murmurs nervously.

Naruto scowls. "I don't have anything to bet with…"

"I'll lend you some cash – or you could sign over your soul. Or your firstborn. Hah!"

"The future of Konoha is doomed," Shino remarks idly as he follows them.

終わり

Just a general little thing I wrote on my lunch break. I admit, I'm a little unsure if I've managed to capture Team 8, their characters aren't as familiar to me as Team 7 :)

Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

クリ

Next Chapter

[aaronhart93-archive]

‘Cause I Got High ll Aaroman

Discord thread featuring: Aaron & @romanbeckett

Mentions: N/A

When: Sunday, June 21st

Where: Aaron’s penthouse

Description: Aaron and Roman drop acid 

Trigger Warnings: smut and drug use

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman was exhausted, it had been a long day, but he was excited to get high with his boyfriend. Ro took down his hair from his bun the second he was through the door, trying to hurry to the shower so he could grab a quick one before Aaron got home. Besides, Aaron’s master shower was fucking glorious, and he really loved any excuse to bathe in it.

AARON.

Aaron was racing home pretty quickly from his meeting, although the New York City traffic was making that pretty hard to do. He should really start thinking about taking the train again, but god the subway disgusted him. He was still in his navy blue suit from his day and couldn’t wait to get out of it to get into comfortable clothes to hang out with Roman. When he finally got up to his pent after what seemed like a longer than normal commute home, he took a deep breathe and took off his jacket. He could hear the shower ruining so took the chance to grab some water and collect himself before his boyfriend stepped out of the shower. He walked into the master bed changed into a pair of sweatpants and a Beatles t-shirt, and immediately felt even more relaxed.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman didn’t hear Aaron come in, because he of course had the playlist Aaron had made for him blasting over Bluetooth while showering. He loved getting lost in all of his boyfriend’s favorite songs, one reason being that they genuinely just had the same taste in music. They were so opposite in a lot of ways, and yet somehow complimented eachother so well. It seemed too good to be true, but he hoped the worst was over. Ro began towel drying himself off as he sang along to some U2 in front of the vanity mirror, being dramatic as fuck as he did a little dance for himself, naked as the day he was born. “It’s a beautiful day!!” He spun around, and then grabbed onto the marble sink like it was part of his choreography. “Don’t let it get awayyyy! Toooouch me...” Roman grabbed his chest, and closed his eyes as he ran a hand down his lean body. “Take me to another place...”

AARON. 

Aaron quickly realized that he was hearing Roman listening to the playlist Aaron had made him while they were apart. Aaron’s heart did a little flip. It helped him know that Roman genuinely cared about him when the other told him he would listen to the playlist he had made for him. Then when he heard Roman screaming along to some of his favorite lyrics, a huge grin grew on his face. It was kind of a coincidence that the pair had a smilies taste in music. It opened so many doors for them; blasting their favorite songs together in the car and going to concerts together. Those were all things that Aaron were important to share with a partner. The businessman poked his head into the mater bath to Roman dancing and singing to the music. He laughed. “Cute!” He shouted over the music. He walked up to him and gave him a tiny kiss hello.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. 

Roman nearly jumped several feet in the air when he heard Aaron’s voice, throwing his comb across the bathroom, and nailing a shampoo bottle. “Bloody hell.” He sighed against the smaller’s lips, pushing his wet curls back away from his face as he took in some deep breaths. Holy shit. That had nearly given him a heart attack, but now he was smiling, and blushing at the realization that he’d been caught. “Oops.” He giggled. “Welcome home, babe. I ordered dinner.”

AARON.

Aaron let out a huge cackle when the brush went flying in the air. “Sorry I scared you, damn.” He chuckled a few more times, before biting down on his lips and realizing that Roman was completely naked. He honestly loved having Roman around the penthouse lately, and part of him almost dreaded the idea of helping Roman eventually find an apartment of his home. He kinda just wished he could always stay with him. “What we get?” He asked him.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman laughed a bit in return when Aaron apologized for scaring him, knowing fully well that he’d overreacted, as usual. There wasn’t much Roman Beckett did in his life that was anything short of dramatic. The taller reached to grab Aaron’s chin, pressing his thumb to the man’s cleft before pulling him in for another quick kiss. Okay, maybe not so quick. There was definitely tongue. “Acid tabs.” He answered the smaller, and then turned to finish washing his face in the sink, and then proceeded to dry off, and apply moisturizer, and watermelon flavored lip balm.

AARON.

Aaron smiled on his lips as they kissed again. He rubbed his hands up and down his sides. “Perfect.” He leaned against the wall in his bathroom and watched Roman finish his post- showier routine, taking notes and just admiring the view. Aaron had never dropped acid before, even when he did drugs before he became a dad. There was never anyone he wanted to share that experience with until he meant Roman, and Aaron knew that he would have a good trip by Roman by his side. “So how long a trip usually last?” He asked, curiously. He’d be lying if said he weren’t a little nervous. This was probably not the first question he’d be asking him tonight.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

“It depends.” Roman smirked while turning his head to look at the other, and then decided to brush his teeth one more time. Ro was OCD, and Aaron was about to find that out big time. There were just certain routines, and things that Roman felt like he absolutely had to do. Nothing too crazy, it wasn’t hurting anyone after all. “Usually for me, about twelve hours...so.” He chuckled, and then moved past the businessman to the walk in closet for a pair of Aaron’s underwear. They were designer, and made his ass look immaculate. “Hope you’re okay with being up all night.” He turned around to pose for his boyfriend in a tight pair of red briefs.

AARON.

Aaron spent a lot of time on his morning and evening skin and hair routine. It was important for him to look good whenever he went to work or other social events. He felt like the had an imagine he needed to upload. He loved high fashion. Something else the pair had in common, even though they still dressed so differently. They balanced each other out so well. Aaron raised his brow. “12 hours??” He was kinda nervous that if he had a bad trip he’d be stuck on it for half a day, and he had no idea that the high would last for so long. “I didn’t know it was that long.” Aaron knew that dropping acid at like a bell curve, and the top of the bell curve was the peak of your high. It sounded better than any coke he’s ever done in his early 20s, so he wondered why he was nervous to try this one.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman felt a little bad when Aaron seemed to get a little concerned, and stepped forward to place his hand on the man’s cheek. “Baby, it’ll be okay. It tapers off. It’s more like a few hours of energy, like coke, and then it gets more and more mellow.” He tried to convince the smaller, figuring it wouldn’t be as bad as he was fearing it would be. “Besides, we’ll probably fuck enough to burn off the energy pretty damn fast.” He snorted.

AARON.

Aaron brought his hand up to meet his boyfriend’s hand in his cheek. He wouldn’t have suggested they get high together unless he was sure he wanted to do it. He knew he was getting nervous for no reason. “Okay, babe.” Aaron nodded. He trusted Roman to give him an accurate description of what tripping was like. “I like that plan.” He laughed along with him. Aaron and Roman has had a lot of sex that weekend, but they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other. He’d also heard that sex was absolutely amazing on acid, and wanted to experience that with the green eyed man.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

“I promise it’ll be okay.” He assured his boyfriend, and then leaned in to kiss him once again. “C’mon.” Roman grabbed one of Aaron’s hands to lead him out of the closet (haha), deciding not to bother with a shirt since acid normally made his body temperature spike anyway. “Okay, so...” he grabbed their tabs of acid, tearing one off to show the smaller before placing it under his own tongue. “Dissolves under your tongue in about ten minutes, and takes about an hour to kick in.” He handed Aaron a tab, and smirked at him.

AARON.

“I’m excited. I swear.” He gave him a reassuring grin. Aaron followed Roman out of the closet and into his bedroom. He watched the other show his what to do. He smiled back at him as took the tab from the other and followed his lead by placing the drug under his tongue, giving a dramatic shrug before he did. “Fuck it.” He said, playfully. “Do you actually want to watch part of Gone With the Wind while we wait?” He didn’t actually love the idea of finishing that movie, but just like Roman was listening to Aaron’s playlist, Aaron wanted to learn everything Roman liked.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Ro smiled as Aaron just went for it like a champ, excited to see how he would act once it kicked in. His face lit up at the mention of his favorite movie though, clearly about to lose his mind over it as he bounced around. He really shouldn’t bounce while wearing only tiny briefs. Or maybe he should? Depends on how you look at it. “Yesss, good idea! Our food’s on its way.” He informed the other, and then moved in for yet another quick kiss. Then, they were piling on the couch to watch part two of gone with the wind, Roman trying his best to not attack Aaron, failing only one time right before the food arrived. He was practically eating the smaller’s face off when the buzzer went off. At least it was a good appetizer. “Starting to feel it?” Ro asked Aaron as soon as he got their trash cleaned up from dinner, the movie still going on of course.

AARON.

Aaron noticed Roman’s face light up when he suggested they finish the movie. Jesus, he’d do just about anything to make Roman happy like that constantly. Besides, he didn’t actually hate the movie. They had made nearly a record time before they were sucking each other’s faces again.  Aaron thought about romans question. Things were starting to feel a little wavy, but he wasn’t sure if that was just in his head. “Maybe.” He said with a few blinks, staring at the TV as the movie played. Aaron slid his hand into Roman’s when joined him again on the couch. “I think so.” He said thinking about his state a little bit more. He blinked as he looked at the tv again and say little tiny waves of color bounce across off the screen. “Oh!” He exclaimed. “Yeah it’s working.”

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

“It comes on really subtly.” He informed his boyfriend, squeezing his hand as he admired Aaron’s profile. He really had gotten so lucky with this living, breathing work of art. Aaron Hart was by far the most handsome guy he’d ever seen, and he could just...admire him for hours without looking away. A small giggle erupted when Aaron suddenly noticed the LSD begin to work it’s magic, his lips curving up in the corner. “Okay, how about this? I have climbed...the highest mountains! I have runnn through the fields -“ he started to sing loudly, his smooth, velvety voice bouncing off the ways, and vibrating their souls. “ - only to be with you. Only to be with youuuu.” Roman moved forward to get his lips close to his partner’s ear, voice now barely a whisper. “It burned like fire, this burning desire...” he spoke the lyrics.

AARON.

As he felt his body slowly begin to fall into his trip, he took a breath of relief. This was going to be a good trip and he suddenly couldn’t even fathom being worried about something like that. Another one of his favorite songs. He grinned, quietly humming along with him. He closed his eyes to focus solely on the man’s sultry voice. “Mmm...better than Bono.” He joked. But Roman was a fucking fantastic singer. A chill ran down Aaron’s spine when the other male whispered into his ear. “I’m so happy you like the playlist.” He had probably already told Roman that several times before, but he just wanted to remind him how elated he was to know that Roman was listening to it.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

“Of course I do. I’ll never hear them again without thinking of you.” Roman finally moved so that he was straddling his boyfriend on the couch. He should be paying attention to the absolutely terrible things going on behind him - Melony was literally having a VERY difficult birth, but Ro was feeling good. “Mmmm....mmm hmmmm mmmmm....” he hummed, closing his eyes as he brought his arms above his head, and ground to the tune that was currently thumping in his head. It was so clear, he felt as if Aaron had to hear it as well. This was apparently a trippy version of a lap dance, but at least he looked hot. Hopefully.

AARON.

Aaron smiled. He wasn't sure if Roman knew it, but hearing that Roman tell him how he would think of Aaron every time he heard U2 was really special to Aaron. The brunette moved his hands to his boyfriend's thighs, rubbing them lightly. He slipped his hands under his boxer shorts above his knees because for some reason, his skin felt so fucking amazing right now. Aaron wasn't sure exactly what Roman was thinking inside of his head, but for some reason he felt like he knew. It must've been the acid that made Aaron feel so connected to this trip partner. Like they were having the same trip. He started to understand why people liked doing this so much.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman dropped his hands to sit on Aaron’s broad shoulders, squeezing them before his fingers were moving farther, and farther, until he was stroking down his biceps. His eyes were stuck on his boyfriend’s face, feeling as if he could see every detail so much more vividly than normal. His eyes, which were already a brilliant blue, were now practically SPLASHING like the ocean. He could hear the sea, feel the warm breeze. God, he wanted to dip his feet in the sand right now. Aaron made him feel that way, skin browned by the sun, the smell of salt water, and coconut. That feeling of wave hopping all day, and coming back to a full meal - never more hungry in your life as you are after a day on the beach. Any food tasted like the best meal of your life, and the nap that followed was bliss. That was his relationship with Aaron. Even when things were bad, they felt bad together, and the longing was always there. “I love you, Clark.” Roman finally said, a small smirk at the corner of his pink lips.

AARON.

The bright red from his boxers that his boyfriend had on seemed to bleed onto his skin as he looked down at his lap. He looked up and down Roman’s body which seemed physically be radiating energy from his skin, his curls physically bouncing around his face and tattoos dancing on his skin. The nickname that Roman had given to him so many months ago never sounded so sweet. “I love you so fucking much.” He smiled back up at him. His feelings towards Roman felt so much more intense in this moment, he nearly forgot about the Civil War happening on the TV behind his partner. He was just too caught up in the moment. He brought his fingers to the man’s chest and traced the outlining of the big, dancing tattoo on his torso.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

“Feelin’ good, love?” Ro asked his boyfriend, able to read if he was in some other universe currently. At least it seemed like maybe this was a better trip for Aaron than he’d been paranoid about, which was good to know. He would have felt fucking terrible if his boyfriend had a terrible experience. “Aaron?” He heard himself asking again, feeling as if he’d been waiting a long time for an answer from the smaller...but maybe he hadn’t?? Hard to tell.

AARON.

Aaron was so caught up in his boyfriend's dancing tattoos that he barely heard what Roman was say. Well, he heard it but he just didn't really process that he needed to give him an answer. His attention went from the other's tattoos, then to his chest, then to the fact that the taller had four whole nipples. He poked each one because why not? Roman was all his. He couldn't believe he was finally saying that. "Huh?" Aaron said, looking up into his green eyes. "Yeah, I'm feeling amazing." he grinned and reached his hand up to cup his cheek and rub his face with his thumb.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman busted out laughing when Aaron snapped back into reality. He looked so adorable all bewildered and high. Every time Aaron touched his cheek like that, the pad of his thumb running over the highest point of his cheekbone like it was made of glass. He just… It was hard to describe the way that it made Ro feel. Butterflies in his stomach didn’t even begin to form a definition - tingling sensations, they were there, but it was so much more than that. Looking down into those magnificent blue eyes, it felt like Roman was realizing just how in love with this man he really was. He thought he knew before, but wow. He’d had no idea. After a few more seconds of staring, Ro decided to lunge forward and seal their lips together, kissing his boyfriend, and tasting the rainbow. Literally. Wow. Rainbows tasted good.June 22, 2020

AARON.

Aaron could have sat and stared at Roman all fucking day. Because - holy shit - he never thought he'd actually be able to do that again. He could see how his thumb left behind little trails of color as he pet him. Their lips connected and Aaron felt his whole body buzz like it was on fire. He moved his hands down his bare back slowly to rest his hands on this hips. Why did this feel so much better than normal? Was it Roman who told him that sex with so much better on acid or was it someone else? He had no idea because he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything else but the taste of his boyfriend. "mmm...taste amazing." he hummed between passionate kisses.(edited)

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Ro was glad that apparently Aaron was starting to really appreciate the good side of acid. They were both so sexual to begin with, thinking with their dicks probably 95% of the time, but on LSD? Ha. Wow. Everything was heightened, and so beautiful - like they were in fucking Pandora or something. You know, from Avatar? This was like THAT. “Yeah -“ Roman mumbled against his boyfriend’s lips, now grinding against the smaller because his cock was starting to swell in his briefs from the way Aaron was touching, and kissing him. His hands were now in the businessman’s hair, raking his painted nails over Aaron’s scalp, light, and sensual.

AARON.

A low moan escaped Aaron's lips when Roman's length grinding against his. He let out a low moan as he felt is cock growing against Roman's. Aaron always appreciated good foreplay, but this time the feeling was so much more intense. The feeling of the other's hands through his hair felt fucking amazing; it left Aaron's mind buzzing as his fingers traced his messy hair. It resulted in him accidentally letting out an even louder moan onto his lips. They almost felt connected to each other; like they knew each other's move because it started to feel like they were moving in-sync. Not to mention, he was so fucking in love. Soon enough, dick was pressed him against his sweatpants. "Tell me what you want." he commanded him, playing with the waist of his boxers, begging him to slip out of them.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman was so turned on at this point, that he was starting to make a small wet spot in the crotch of his boxers. He was panting still, cheeks flushed, and nearly as pink as his lips. “I...” Ro struggled to find his words as he focused on Aaron’s hands at his waist, head rolling on his neck with his eyes closed to take in how good this felt right now. Roman was holding onto Aaron’s hair to keep himself steady, feeling like he might fall backwards at any moment if he didn’t. He wanted to take a ride. Yes. That’s what he wanted. “I wanna ride your huge cock, daddy. I want to impale myself on you.” Roman breathed out while looking back down at his boyfriend with heavily displayed pupils.

AARON.

Heavy pants left Aaron's lips as they moved. Aaron watched how fucking flawless he looked when he rolling his head back on his shoulders. Could anyone be any fucking sexier? He wished he could have taken a picture of just how colorful and physically flawless the other looked right now. It was fucking a gorgeous site to be seen. Color and light seemed to radiate from his skin. "Fuckin'..." Aaron cold barely get any words out at this point he was so overwhelmed with the feeling of their hips moving together. "Fuck, baby. I want inside of you. I want to feel you around me...." he let out through deep pants and low moans. His hand rolled back on the back of the couch, but he tried to keep eye contact with Roman the whole time. He just didn't want to look away.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Aaron really didn’t have to say much else to get Roman motivated to move further. They were both at the height of their trip, horny as fuck, and itching to get out of their clothes. Ro stood up to get his underwear off, kicking it to the side prior to helping his boyfriend get stripped down as well. “God, you’re so hot.” He breathed out almost animalistically, suddenly happy for the lube he’d already left by the couch for this very anticipated, yet spontaneous moment. “Hope you’re ready.” Roman gave the smaller a wicked grin, and then positioned himself between the smaller’s legs so that he could start sucking him off, deciding a nice little acid trip foreplay would be a great experience for his loved.

AARON.

Aaron stood up across from Roman almost immediately at the other hopped off of him; he could barely wait anymore. Aaron gazed at him as he helped him strip naked, stealing a few small kisses as they worked to get his clothes off. "Give it to me baby, I'm ready." he hummed, raising his brows as Roman lowered to his knees and started blowing him. Every fucking cell in his cock was throbbing. He could feel each of his nerves as Roman's warm mouth wrapped around his dick. He fisted Roman's curly hair tightly and tugged gently. "Fuck, baby, f-feels...so good." he whimpered breathlessly.  "Get up against the wall for me now." he knew that if Roman continued like this for even a few more minutes, he was unload into his mouth. But he wasn't ready to cum yet. He wanted this exhilarating feeling to last even longer.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman hummed when his hair was pulled, but looked up at his boyfriend the second he was ordered to get up against the wall. Oh god, what was he gonna do? He took his mouth off Aaron’s cock immediately, hanging around just for a second, as if he expected the man to change his mind. His brain was wild right now, and just...yeah. Acid. Ro popped up eventually, and moved against the way for his man, placing his hands on the surface in position as he looked over his shoulder.

AARON.

Aaron looked down at Roman, making eye contact with him. His green eyes started changing different colors...blue, purple, yellow. Whoa. The businessman hungrily kissed and sucked the back of his boyfriend’s neck, probably leaving some marks but he stopped giving a fuck about that. He fisted his hair. Again. “You wanna ride me now, baby?” He whispered in the crevice of where his neck met his shoulder.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman smirked when his boyfriend asked if he wanted to ride him now after marking him like that. It felt like every nerve ending in his body was tingling, and it was the best feeling ever. God, he needed more - and to burn off some of this energy. “Yes. I do.” Ro turned around to face the smaller, giving him hungry eyes prior to pushing him back onto the couch. He then loomed over Aaron with a bottle of lube, distributing it generously on his digits so that he could start fingering himself while straddling his boyfriend’s lap.

AARON.

Aaron’s body was still buzzing, literally vibrating and he could feel the energy radiating from their bodies. Their greedy eyes met briefly before Aaron felt himself being pushed back onto his leather couch, breathless pants escaping his lips. The air was hot and his mouth was dry. He could feel beads of sweat begin to gather on his temple. Aaron immediately reached his hands up to grip his boyfriend’s hips when he hit the leather. “Fuck...” he moaned as he watched the taller finger himself. He gently stroked his own throbbing cock as he watched.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman was well aware how much Aaron loved watching him play with himself. Not to toot his own horn, but Ro knew how amazing he could make himself look from this position. He knew his angles, and how to work ‘em. It’s how he’d gotten so far in the business. That sounded bad - but, you know what I mean. I think. “How bad for you want me?” Roman rasped out to his boyfriend, watching him stroke his cock with parted lips. Ughhhh, why was he so HOT?!June 23, 2020

AARON.

Roman had never looked so fucking hot. And he wasn’t sure if it was this angle or the acid or both but he looked fucking immaculate. Ugh he wanted to be inside of him so bad, fucking him absolutely senseless. That was like...basically all they did at this point. Fu... baby I want you so fucking bad!” He said, basically whimpering in pleasure. He was so fucking eager to be the other man. He reached up to grab a quick, yet passionate kiss from his boyfriend. “Fuck me. PLEASE. He begged.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman admittedly loved seeing Aaron beg him like this. It wasn’t often that he worked the smaller into such a submissive position. It was a good look on his boyfriend though, he had to admit. It got him worked up anyway, to the point he was being almost cruel in making Aaron wait. He just really wanted to see how far he could push the businessman, so that when he finally slid down on his cock, the pleasure would be intense. “I dunno if you’re ready yet...” Roman’s voice was low as he continued to finger himself, scissoring his long digits in and out of his tight heat. Yeah, Aaron’s length would feel so much better, but he could also be patient a little bit longer.

AARON.

Of course Roman was making him wait. Of course he wanted him to bed for him. His personality was so distinct, even in bed. He loved that the other was so unapologetically himself; it was actually sexy as fuck. He loved the way he teased him...including the way he tease him in bed. He knew it would make his orgasm all the more intense. But fuck, he needed him...now. “I want you so, so bad, baby. Please.” He begged him again. His whole body was tense with pleasure at this point. He knew it would be long until he came....he had Roman’s blowjob to thank for that.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Ro got off on having to beg, yes, but he also LOVED making others have to grovel as well. This look right here on his boyfriends face - the heavy lids, panting, a desperation that until this moment, maybe Ro didn’t even realize he enjoyed so much. Christ, it was just so attractive, and awoke every fucking pleasure nerve in his entire body. So, he gave Aaron what he wanted. Roman’s long fingers worked some lube up and down his lover’s shaft before he was just lining up, and sliding down balls deep with a low, raspy moan. Ro tightened his hands on Aaron’s shoulders, his head lulling back while he adjusted in this position.

AARON.

Fucking finally. He was wondering how Roman was able to hold our for so long, because Aaron was certainly struggling. Aaron’s head rolled back on his shoulders and rested his against the back of his leather couch. squeezing his eyes shut he let out a loud, low moan. He brought both of his hips and moved his hands in sync with the others hips. Fuck, he felt amazing. And this position...maybe Aaron’s new favorite to do with his boyfriend.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

They didn’t do this much, though Ro honestly wasn’t sure why, I mean??? Phenomenal. He dropped his head forward again to look at the other male, almost hypnotized by how fucking sexy Aaron looked right now. Wow. It was ethereal, and intense, and every time the smaller moved, there were trails left behind that lingered, and then all blended together to make the perfect picture Roman saw before him now. “Feel good?” He could hear his own voice differently than he normally would, and it echoed, and vibrated deep into his core. It felt good, and he hoped Aaron could feel it too as he pressed his palm flat against his boyfriend’s chest.

AARON.

Aaron picked his head up and moved his gaze from tattoo to tattoo on his boyfriend's body that were still dancing and radiating pinks and purples until they were making hungry eye contact again. "Fuck, you feel amazing..." he whispered, breathlessly. Every nerve on his body was standing on edge, his hand on his chest even felt like a gift from God. Aaron knew he was close, especially when he could feel his cum already leaking into Roman. "Ro." he moaned deeply. He slapped his boyfriend's ass so hard that is left a high 'whip' sound echoing in the room.June 24, 2020

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman was glad that Aaron seemed to be into this just as much as he hoped he would be. His fingers gently threaded through his boyfriend’s chest hair, tugging lightly prior to leaning in and pressing his lips along Aaron’s neck as he moved his hips up and down on the other’s length. He knew his boyfriend was close, so he was giving it all he had, squeezing around Aaron’s cock, and bouncing on it like his life depended on it. “Aaron!” He whined from deep in his throat, squealing at the slap to his ass - unexpected, but fucking amazing. “Again daddy!!” He rasped with heavy lidded eyes.

AARON.

Roman’s low, raspy moan was sexy as fuck. And hearing his own name come out like that was orgasmic. Aaron was pleased to know how much Roman like him slapping his ass like that, so he was happy to oblige when Roman begged him to slap him again. His hands went right back to his hips, grabbing onto him tightly and moving in sync with him. The next thing he knew he was unloading in his boyfriend, eyes shutting closed and head falling back into his should. He moaned with intense pleasure. “It’s your turn. What do you want, baby?” He asked panting heavily, trying to catch his breathe.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman was holding onto Aaron’s shoulders so tight, it was probably painful, but this felt so damn good, he could barely handle it. “God...” that wasn’t what Aaron asked you to say, Ro. He was panting as he looked at his boyfriend, arms now looping lazily around his neck before he was leaning in to press his lips against the orher’s. “Mmm...jus’ touch me.” He asked, not wanting to move, and instead expecting Aaron to just jerk him off until he too was coming undone.

AARON.

Aaron loved the idea of his boyfriend gripping onto him for support and stability. Both literally right now and metaphorically. He was the type of person who made the people he loved want for nothing, and look to him when they needed something. Ro was not excepting. “Anything you want, baby.” He said, bringing on os his hands from his lips and to his cock. He slowly started to move his hand up and down his shaft, occasionally rubbing his thumb around his tip for some extra pleasure. “Come for me baby.” He moaned.(edited)

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman had done acid too many times to count, but never in his life had he ever had such a good experience. He loved being with Aaron, and the way he made him feel. When they were together, it’s like he could drown everything else out, and that’s what he needed right now. “I’m - I...” he moaned, shaking a bit when the other ran a thumb around the tip of his cock. FUCK. As soon as he was commanded to cum, Ro began to fuck himself up into Aaron’s hand, once again bouncing on the man’s lap as he moaned through his massive orgasm.June 25, 2020

AARON.

Aaron has actually not expected to feel this way doing acid. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting sex to feel this fucking good. The businessman really got off on mutual pleasure, so he beamed when Roman came onto his torso. “Fucking hell, Roman.” He said, finally catching his breathe. “I love you so fucking much. That was intense as fuck.” As if sex with Roman wasn’t already intense and incredible enough. It was still crazy to Aaron that he was calling Roman his boyfriend, even crazy having sex with him again when he thought he never would. Aaron had never pictured himself doing acid either. It was easy for him to come out of his shell when he was around him. He knew the pair had a lot of hardships coming up and that everything was perfect, but when he was with him he seemed to forget about all of that and was just able to enjoy their time together. And he knew that feeling wasn’t from the acid.

[hentaihunblog-blog]

15 Pikachu Facts That Are Absolutely Worth Knowing – OtakuKart

New Post has been published on https://hentaihun.com/blog/2017/12/31/15-pikachu-facts-that-are-absolutely-worth-knowing-otakukart/

15 Pikachu Facts That Are Absolutely Worth Knowing – OtakuKart

Arguably the most well-known Pokémon in the universe, Pikachu is the iconic mascot that made the Japanese pocket monster franchise world famous. Ever since its introduction in 1996, the 25thPokémon on the Pokédex has gained fans worldwide and has become a part of pop culture in a major way, not to mention how it helped launched video games, trading cards, anime series, movies, and put Nintendo back on the map after a shaky few years.

Now, two decades later, Pikachu is more popular than ever before with the debut of Pokemon Go. As fans old and new race around the world trying to catch their favorite Pokémon, all of the Pokémon featured in the game will no doubt be competing with Pikachu for control of Pokémon trainers’ hearts.

But whether you think you know Pikachu or you’re just getting started with the little yellow electricity rat, we’ve compiled a list so you can become the foremost Pikachu expert in the world. So put down Pokémon Go for a minute and find out 15 Things You Didn’t Know About Pikachu.

15.PIKACHU WASN’T MEANT TO BE POKEMON MASCOT:

Ask anyone to tell you the first thing that comes to their mind when they think about Pokémon and they will undoubtedly say “Pikachu.” There’s no single Pokémon more internationally famous than Pikachu, and even those who have never held a Pokémon card played a Pokémon game or seen an episode of Pokémon in their life will have some familiarity with Pikachu. It’s undeniable that Pikachu is an undeniable success story of the Pokémon franchise, but it wasn’t always going to be that way.

Originally – when the Pokémon franchise was still in the planning stages – Clefairy was chosen by executives to be the lead character for the marketing of the franchise. It was thought that Clefairy would be engaging and would draw people in, but once the animated series began production it was quickly understood that a yellow central character would be the best for the brand. The thinking went that yellow was easy for children to see from a distance, and there would be little competition as Winnie the Pooh was the only yellow mascot at the time.

14. PIKACHU CAN BE USED AS A STARTER IN POKEMON GO:

Although in the original Pokémon games only Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle could be used as starters, in the new smash hit Pokémon Go there is a way to beat the system and get Pikachu from the get go. It speaks volumes for Pikachu’s legacy and popularity that so many people were unaccepting of their original starter options that they discovered this cheat, and from there it spread online like wildfire and became of the most exciting discoveries of the game.

To get Pikachu as your starter in Pokémon Go all that is required of you is repeatedly running away from the options presented to you at the beginning of the game. Once you have neglected your three starting options long enough – a total of four times to be precise – Pikachu will spawn in front of you and from there he’s yours for the taking, and you’re ready to go off on your Pokémon adventure as the envy of the entire Pokémon training world.

13.ASH’S PIKACHU WAS NAMED JEAN-LUC IN THE MANGA:

Pokemon is a worldwide phenomenon that originated in Japan, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its Western influences. Just the idea of a small yellow rat that can store and dispense lightning is a crazy one, and it’s something that somehow caught on and made us all feel more cultured for understanding. When making the jump from Japan to everywhere else, Pikachu’s name wasn’t changed to Greg the Rat or anything ridiculous like that, it was just left the way it was and we all understood it; Pikachu was Pikachu. But was he really? As it turns out, when Pikachu was first introduced his name was actually Jean Luc Pikachu. First mentioned by Ash but then quickly abandoned in any other iteration of the Pokémon franchise, Jean Luc Pikachu appeases fans that thought the ultra-Japanese Pokémon needed to be more French, or perhaps they’re setting up a STAR TREK, but it really appeases no one else. It’s a confusing bit of Pokémon trivia that is never given much thought, but it’s one that we should all bring up on occasion just to keep things interesting.

12. FEMALE PIKACHU HAVE A NOTCH ON THEIR TAILS:

The one thing that many beginner Pokémon fans don’t understand right away is that Pikachu isn’t just the name of one singular Pikachu, it’s also the plural for an entire Pokémon species. And within that species are – of course – female and male Pikachu, each roaming around with their own distinctive personality. So how do we differentiate the two genders? Well, it’s relatively simple; at least in some cases. Although Pikachu never had an established gender difference at the onset of the franchise, in Pokémon Diamond and Pearl gender differences were introduced to the Pokémon universe, thus making identification easier; should that be of concern to anyone for whatever reason. Since then, female Pikachu was seen with notches or indents at the end of their tails, and males weren’t. But don’t worry, this isn’t some type of Avatar-esque sex adventure whereby Pikachus everywhere is fitting their tails together. At least, we don’t think it is.

11.NO ONE CAN AGREE IF ASH’S PIKACHU IS A BOY OR A GIRL:

Despite the previously mentioned gender differences between Pikachu, the one thing that not even the biggest Pikachu expert knows is whether or not the world’s most famous Pikachu – Ash’s Pikachu – is actually a boy or a girl. Speculation on this front has run wild since the character’s introduction, but the fact remains that Pikachu’s creators have intentionally kept the answer vague so that Pikachu could appeal to people of both genders. While you may assume that you could just look at Pikachu’s tail for its gender reveal, Ash’s Pikachu was introduced in the anime before gender differences were established throughout the franchise. One argument for Pikachu being a female is that in an episode of Pokemon Black and White a female Pokémon used attract on Pikachu, but nothing happened. However, another argument is made for Pikachu being a male in that characters often refer to it as a “he.” All we know for sure is that everyone has an opinion on Pikachu’s gender, and no one has been proven 100% correct.

10: PIKACHU ACTUALLY TRANSLATES INTO ENGLISH:

For those of you that think Pikachu is just a cool name for a brightly colored electricity rodent, think again. “Pika” is a Japanese word for electricity crackling, and “chu” is how the Japanese describe the sound of mice. Put the two together and you have a name that spread across a generation and actually ended up inspiring some parents to name their children Pikachu; or more accurately, Electricity-Crackling-Mice.

According to Pokémon developer Junichi Masuda, Pikachu wasn’t an easy name to come up with, and creators wanted to develop something that would be a hit with both Japanese and American audiences. Eventually, after much back and forth, Pikachu was chosen, and it eventually led into the sounds that the Pokémon is famous for making. “Pika, pika chu” became a catchphrase for Pikachu and the character’s name quickly spread around the world as something that fit perfectly; despite many not knowing that it actually had a meaning behind it aside from simply sounding cool.

9. ASH WAS ONCE TRANSFORMED INTO A PIKACHU:

One of the more interesting facts in Pokémon canon is that, yes, it’s apparently possible for humans to turn into Pokémon. Although it’s not something you’ll see every day, it’s the type of Pokémon fact that makes longtime fans scratch their heads and say “huh.” A shining example of this is when in the episode Hocus Pokémon Ash found himself on the receiving end of a spell that would enable him to think like a Pokémon. Of course, the spell backfires and ends up turning Ash into a Pikachu complete with his own eyes, voice, hair, and infamous hat. This Ash-Pikachu hybrid ended up being called Ashachu – because why not – and is still remembered fondly by fans. And while the transformation was temporary and ended up getting reversed by the next episode, it opens up a lot of possibilities for future transformations of humans into Pokémon. In the meantime, all we can do is set our desktop wallpapers to a photo of Ashachu and remember the good old days.

8.PIKACHU WAS ACTUALLY CREATED BY GAMEFREAK ARTIST:

While Nintendo gets nearly all of the credit for Pokémon, the franchise was actually developed by Game Freak and published by Nintendo in 1996. And although the whole Game Freak team is credited with the ideas and concepts that make Pokémon a runaway hit, one artist in particular – Atsuko Nishida – is credited with the design for Pikachu; something that she worked on along with other species of Pokémon throughout the Pokémon films and trading card series. Finalized by Ken Sugimori – a man who is often looked at as the creator of all Pokémon designs – and conceived of by the Game Freak’s character development team, Pikachu is 1 foot 4 inches tall and is modeled after a mouse. Being the first ever Electric Pokémon, Pikachu is a pioneer in the world of Pokémon; something that he often doesn’t get credit for as everyone is distracted by his cute exterior and unassuming personality.

7: PIKACHU HAS BEEN ON 97 DIFFERENT POKEMON CARDS:

While Nintendo gets nearly all of the credit for Pokémon, the franchise was actually developed by Game Freak and published by Nintendo in 1996. And although the whole Game Freak team is credited with the ideas and concepts that make Pokémon a runaway hit, one artist in particular – Atsuko Nishida – is credited with the design for Pikachu; something that she worked on along with other species of Pokémon throughout the Pokémon films and trading card series. Finalized by Ken Sugimori – a man who is often looked at as the creator of all Pokémon designs – and conceived of by the Game Freak character development team, Pikachu is 1 foot 4 inches tall and is modeled after a mouse. Being the first ever Electric Pokémon, Pikachu is a pioneer in the world of Pokémon; something that he often doesn’t get credit for as everyone is distracted by his cute exterior and unassuming personality.

6. PIKACHU HAS AN OBSESSION WITH KETCHUP:

You can tell just how important Pokémon is to the world by the level of nonsense trivia that accompanies it. For example, why would a game that requires you to catch, train, and battle with various pocket monsters require a working knowledge of what condiment is their favorite? Well, you wouldn’t, but nonetheless, it’s a known fact that Pikachu is obsessed with ketchup. Not only has it been shown in the animated series at various times, but there are entire threads in online message boards and whole memes dedicated to Pikachu and his love for ketchup. Perhaps his ketchup love comes from his love of all red foods – as the only foods that he’s ever shown eating aside from ketchup are apples and red berries. Or perhaps ketchup reminds him of Ash’s last name, which is Ketchum. Or maybe Pikachu’s creators just thought that it would be funny to see a little yellow lightning rat get overly excited by every five years old’s favorite hot dog topping. Whichever way you look at it, it’s just nice that we get to know something about Pikachu’s private life off the battlefield.

5.THERE IS A PROTEIN NAMED AFTER PIKACHU:

You can tell just how important Pokémon is to the world of the level of nonsense trivia that accompanies it. For example, why would a game that requires you to catch, train, and battle with various pocket monsters require a working knowledge of what condiment is their favorite? Well, you wouldn’t, but nonetheless, it’s a known fact that Pikachu is obsessed with ketchup. Not only has it been shown in the animated series at various times, but there are entire threads in online message boards and whole memes dedicated to Pikachu and his love for ketchup. Perhaps his ketchup love comes from his love of all red foods – as the only foods that he’s ever shown eating aside from ketchup are apples and red berries. Or perhaps ketchup reminds him of Ash’s last name, which is Ketchum. Or maybe Pikachu’s creators just thought that it would be funny to see a little yellow lightning rat get overly excited by every five years old’s favorite hot dog topping. Whichever way you look at it, it’s just nice that we get to know something about Pikachu’s private life off the battlefield.

4. PIKACHU WAS ON A SPECIAL NIUE DOLLAR COIN:

Pikachu – not content with a protein named after him – kept on making waves in the world until eventually the tiny Pacific island nation of Niue took notice. Despite only having a total land area of 100 square miles and a population of 1190, the nation of Niue were such big fans of Pikachu that they decided to put him on a one dollar coin.

Released as a commemorative coin in 2001 along with Meowth, Squirtle, Bulbasaur, and Charmander, the Pikachu coin featured a picture of Pikachu on one side and the country’s coat of arms on the other. Also available in $10 silver coins, the entire set of Pokémon coins can currently be found on eBay for over $1300. While the Pikachu coin may not store up energy or be used in a Pokémon battle, there’s something cool about owning a Pokémon collectible that isn’t just a trading card.

3. ASH’S PIKACHU WAS VOICED BY IKUE OHTANI:

Ikue Otani is known in the anime world as a famous voice actress, having voiced Chopper in One Piece and Konohamaru Sarutobi in Naruto. But perhaps her most widely heard role is that of Ash’s Pikachu in the Pokémon series; a role that she’s been working hard at since 1997. And if you’re wondering what exactly Otani does voicing a character that doesn’t speak, just ask Otani herself, who claims that she is often teased for having such an easy job.

Otani has said in the past that although many think she only has to say “pika pika,” she actually gets scripts every episode that is vague and mostly says “Pikachu.” Because of this, Otani says that she needs to come up with a plan for her performance; otherwise, nothing will be conveyed to the audience. Otani goes on to say that she insists on recording new material for every bit of Pikachu dialogue across all of Pikachu’s appearances. This way, she says that no matter what she’s instructed to say, she gives every single word her all. 2. TOPEKA, KANSAS WAS RENAMED TOPIKACHU:

Topeka, Kansas either really love Pokémon, or it just wanted to take advantage of its unique name and capitalize on the Pokémon craze back in 1998. That’s why Mayor Joan Wagnon decided to rename the city ToPikachu for a day, most likely confusing all of its residents except the few that were excited for Pokémon’s brand new debut in the United States.

And while we’re unsure what this actually accomplished in terms of Topeka tourism or worldwide recognition, many fans of Pokémon still think of ToPikachu when they hear Topeka. And although the capital of Kansas never ended up being a haven for Pokémon fans more than any other city in the world, apparently Topeka got a kick out of changing their name and decided to do it again in 2010. This time, they changed their name to Google, Kansas for a whole month in a bid to get Google to install their fiber-optic internet in the town. 1.PIKACHU RECHARGES WITH ELECTRICITY WHEN IT SLEEPS:

Most people – even the most casual of Pokémon fans – know that Pikachu’s primary power is electricity. The red circles on Pikachu cheeks – while being incredibly cute – are primarily used as pouches for storing electricity, at which point electric shocks can be sent out to damage opposing Pokémon. Pikachu can also use their shocking powers to zap a foreign object that they come across as a means to inspect it. But that’s for battle; so what about Pikachu’s energy powers in his off-time?

According to Pokémon canon, Pikachu can use electric shocks to recharge their fellow Pikachu if they are in need. They also are known for charging up their electricity storage when they sleep, which is something that every smartphone user wishes could happen with their phone as easily as it happens with Pikachu. Upon waking up, Pikachu are often seen discharging excess electricity, just like yawns, while they stumble around and get ready for the day

[editorscorner]

The Gonzo Tapes

The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

Popshifter

“For me, it was the first time I’d ever even heard an artillery shell fired and when they come in and hit, it’s a, ah, unnerving experience. . . When you’re out in a jeep that continually backfires and boils over and stops by the side of the road in the midst of voluntary convoys and hoards of refugees, yeah, you tend to think that maybe the world is about to come to an end.”

That’s Hunter S. Thompson reporting on the state of Saigon, Vietnam, circa 1975. He traveled there at the urging of New York Times war correspondent Gloria Emerson, as documented on The Gonzo Tapes. Emerson’s idea was for Thompson to expand on the paradigm of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, first published as a two-part Rolling Stone series in 1971, by writing about Saigon’s last days at the close of the Vietnam War. As the tapes reveal, however, Thompson’s method was more akin to participatory journalism—with some severe twists—than anything that could really be planned ahead of time. After all, he originally traveled to Las Vegas in 1971 to write photo captions on the Mint 400 for Sports Illustrated.

The Gonzo Tapes capture the spirit of Thompson’s journalism, which, despite the colossal impact of the frenzied Fear and Loathing, hinged more on the purity of experience than the excesses of one infamous trip. As Thompson remarked on tape to Jann Wenner, founder and editor-in-chief of Rolling Stone, prior to the novel’s release, “I couldn’t get a hotel room if that thing came out right now.” The image of Hunter S. Thompson as the chaos-inducing, semi-deranged version of himself portrayed by Johnny Depp, a.k.a. Raoul Duke, may be the one that endures, but that version only captures one aspect of the man.

Thompson’s reflections on Vietnam, which were not published until ten years after the fact, adhere to his predominant style of alternately reporting on and reacting to events, rather than creating them, as he arguably did in Vegas—and even then, one might say he was becoming his environment, a rider in the storm with a megaphone. He wasn’t out there just partying, though obliteration in the face of absurdity was certainly an aspect of his trip, yet many seem to cling to and celebrate the boozing and drugging at the expense of his body of work as a whole. After listening to these tapes, Bill Murray’s depiction of Thompson in Where the Buffalo Roam struck me as an even more accurate rendering of the intelligent, droll, weird, erratic, and strangely calm-sounding journalist, whose earlier subjects, such as the Hell’s Angels and Richard M. Nixon, were much less lucid.

The opening track finds Thompson crouched in his car at the outskirts of an Angels event in Bass Lake, California, partly to be audible on tape amid their screams and whoops and partly because “the sight of this thing would drive them to madness—they’d burn the machine.” He was able to infiltrate the group while researching Hell’s Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga, though he held few illusions about the potential danger of the association. The precarious nature of his position—an outsider documenting a notorious group in an open capacity, rather than an undercover one—and the alternate disconnect and overlap between the American public’s perceptions of the Angel’s crimes and their actual crimes transcended the standard boundaries of popular journalism. As Thompson explains:

“The situation doesn’t fit them: they’re either more guilty than they really are by the law or they’re less guilty. It’s obvious now that this is a very peculiar situation for the town of Bass Lake—the resort area of Bass Lake—to handle. And yet the Angels are so far not guilty of anything; they’re a bunch of good, fun-loving American lads out riding their motorcycles around the state and having a good time, out here for a Fourth of July camping trip. But there’s so much more to it that the law simply does not cover.”

That sort of gray area is where Thompson thrived as a writer, his eventual beating by a group of Angels notwithstanding, and dwelling there required him to take risks that many were not willing to take or, in post-9/11 America, are not allowed to take. Most of the recordings are culled from the 1970s, Thompson’s most prolific period, and some of the practices he railed against, such as disingenuous flaks and poor event organization, have become accepted norms today. As he remarked during the 2004 presidential campaign, “Richard Nixon looks like a flaming liberal today, compared to a golem like George Bush.” While Thompson notes on tape that he did not take what he perceived to be unnecessary risks, he also makes it plain that he was aware that many deemed the risks he did undertake too dangerous, but that he did not take them to be reckless. In deciding to re-enter Saigon when so many correspondents had fled, the good doctor mused:

“If the worst happens, well, it just happens. I’ve been pushing it for a while—about ten years now, 15, 20. I’m not looking for the end, but I’m not worried about it, either. I had a good time and made a few points. And I don’t know if that justifies doing kill-crazy things, or suicidal things, but if I really thought it was suicidal, I wouldn’t go back in. But the fact is that it’s not safe. There are a lot of people who know the situation better than I do who would call it suicidal. And they all left and they admitted they just didn’t want any part of a suicide orgy. I don’t think many of the people over there do, although I’d say there’s easy ten to 20 percent who would welcome it for reasons of their own. I don’t know those reasons; I like my life, I enjoy it, but I’ve come this far and it’s my story and. . . I think I’ll just run with this one, which means going right back into the eye of the storm. And it will be a storm. We don’t have much doubt about that.”

[jackblankhsh]

Why I Quit:  Hotel Concierge

When I took the job at the hotel I expected something more glamorous.  The day I arrived for work, finding in the parking lot a naked man in Santa beard and cap beating a pimp with a sock full of batteries – I suspected the description related over the phone might not have been accurate.

 The pool did not resemble a glittering sapphire.  Rather, it seemed to be a kidney shaped mound of dirt dotted by several tombstones for pets.  The complex of hotel suites, a hive of rooms in a horseshoe, suggested a building could get addicted to meth, suffering all the adverse physical side effects associated with such; graffiti tattooed brick; an odd implicative assortment of vehicles in the lot, from high end luxury SUVs to rust bucket sedans; occasional whiffs of fresh mint stabbing through a miasma of weed, piss, and compost… part of me wondered if somewhere in Chicago a more regal establishment existed, its own nefarious history passed on to this place like some architectural Portrait of Dorian Grey.  

 A simpler, less mystical explanation would be the Breeze Inn used to be a fine place once upon a time, but that era existed decades ago.  Before superhighways, every city owned specific streets operating as the main thoroughfares into downtown.  Other businesses gravitated to these veins, feeding off the steady flow of tourists and traveling professionals; eventually falling into the slow decay that followed the arrival of quicker, more direct routes stabbing the heart of the city.  

 Plus, gone are the days of a traveling salesperson, retiring from the road to rest in a quiet motel.  Now they arrive, and dart straight from the airport to appointments.  Whether successful or not, the modern professionals then depart – here and gone the same day – red eye on to the next opportunity. There’s no need to slip back to ersatz comforts, raiding the mini-bar on the company dime, celebrating victory, or taking the edge off failure, either way numbing to the fact they’re miles from home.  Cloisters of lonely itinerant professionals – maybe such places were always meant to die. However, it’s a slow death that the manager seemed eager to pay someone to witness.  So I settled in for the moribund days of the Breeze Inn.  

 #

 I helped Butterscotch shovel ice from the bin into a large trash bag.  She held the bag open, while I scooped in bucket loads.  

 “I tell you man, I tell you I hate this fucking guy, but he pays good,” Butterscotch said.

 Making small talk, “I wouldn’t be too comfortable with him either.”

 “I mean like it’s easy and all.  Alls I gotta do is fill the bathtub with ice, soak there a few, and lie on the bed. Don’t gotta move, or do nothing, while he does his thing.  It’s easy.”

 “And it pays good,” I said.

 “Yes, it does.” A look flashed across her eyes like a deer missing its chance to escape headlights.  Butterscotch shrugged, “Beats what I used to do.”

 “What was that?” Seeing the bag mostly full I closed the ice bin.

 “Hotel clerk,” she laughed, “I’m just playin’.”

 Chuckling too, “I know.  Have you a good time Butter.”

 She hoisted the bag over her shoulder, “You too Connie.”

 I’d long since stopped trying to correct the permanent residents.  About a week in, attempting to jazz up my job, I began referring to myself as the hotel concierge.  This resulted in customers referring to me as Connie.  

 Back in the front office I found a group of bleary eyed teens.  College kids on their first road trip, they stopped at the Breeze Inn because they couldn’t afford anywhere else.  

 The boy who fancied himself in charge, upon seeing me, angrily rang the desk bell.  I walked around, and removed the bell from the counter.

 Smiling, “How may I help you?”

 “Last night… we got no sleep.  Someone tried to break into our room.  I braced the door with a chair, and spent the whole night holding a Bible to bash whoever burst in.”

 Shocked that a room still possessed a whole Bible – guests tended to use the pages as rolling papers – I remarked, “Well, if they really wanted to break in they’d’ve probably smashed the window.  That’s happened before.”

 Looking confused the boy said, “What?  Seriously, dude, we want our money back.”

 “Dude, did you spend the night in the room?”

 He glared, “Yeah. So what?”

 I replied, “So read the sign.”

 I pointed. The group collectively turned to find a bare wall.  By the time they turned back, I held a bat wrapped with barbed wire, “You spent the night. You don’t get shit.”

 Slowly the pack of children receded to their car.  On the way out a young lady dressed like a burnt out trucker shouted, “I’m giving this place the worst review.  Zero stars!”

 Mathematically speaking that might actually improve our standing.  However, I felt no need to tell her that.  Those kids didn’t yet understand that for the low, low price of fifty dollars they experienced a story they could tell the rest of their lives. Some pay more for less.  

 Yet, I didn’t have much time to reflect on such things.  Taking the bat in hand I hurried to room 207.  At three on the dot, every afternoon, a thin envelope peeked out from under the door.  It contained enough cash for one more night, paid daily since 1987.  The manager suspected vampires resided inside.  I saw no reason to doubt that.  All I knew, if I didn’t get to the money first some resident would snatch the cash.  Sure enough, stepping onto the landing I saw Willy the Goat idling towards 207.

 Pointing with the bat, “Get away from there Willy.”

 “Fuck you, Connie, I ain’t doin’ nothing.”  Tucking his hands into his pockets, their greasiness darkening the fabric from the inside out, Willy stomped away.

 Collecting the envelope I glanced inside, a blood stained twenty, and several crinkled, gutter plucked ones.  Slipping it in a back pocket, I decided to tour the rooms quickly.  At open doors I paused to knock politely, peer in, and inquire if anyone needed anything.  

 Room 213 needed her dick sucked.  Room 108 wanted a bowl of fingernails.  Room 201 required nothing, emphasizing the fact by pointing a gun; I backed away from the nine year old girl slowly.  For the most part guests needed fresh towels, needles, and bandages, the usual assortment of necessities at the Breeze Inn; what I could handle myself, I did, delegating other responsibilities to Isabella, the head maid.  

 Isabella maintained the Breeze Inn with a stoicism rivaled by stone.  She slips into a room, tap-tap-tapping her key softly, “Housekeeping,” upon seeing a junkie on the bed, she checks the pulse.  Finding none, she flags a few strays, runaway dusthead punk rock kids failing proudly.  For the promise of a free night’s rent they drag the body to a nearby dumpster, and pitch it – out of sight, out of mind.  Tap-tap-tapping, she finds a shit coiled like soft serve ice cream in the middle of the floor.  She cleans the mess without so much as a sigh; however, should the guest return she walks casually by.  Using a knitting needle she exacts a piquerist vengeance, stabbing deep into a butt cheek.  The other two maids, a pair of ladies I’m sure should be in high school – though the education here is better than a degree – take orders in brusque Spanish. At the end of the day I pay her cash, wondering why she always smells like coconut – obviously a cream, or perfume, but why that scent exactly – I never ask because she seems the kind of person who’ll tell you what you need to know when she feels you need the info.  Then the three maids depart together in a wood panel station wagon, leaving me alone for the evening.

 #

 Every hotel possesses at least one ghost.  And frankly, given the amount of suicides, deaths, and murders which occurred here, the Breeze Inn surprising only possessed one.  Interestingly enough, though, it’s one of the more famous Chicago specters.

 On weekends, several ghost tours rolled by the hotel.  Passengers pressed their faces to windows, ogling the location, though never daring to set foot off the bus.  Seated on a chair outside the lobby, smoking and sipping whiskey, I could hear the static cracked recitation of tour guides.  The blather all sounded the same:  “This (hiss) The Breeze Inn (crack-hiss) once a premiere Lincoln Avenue stop (hiss-hiss) ’s what you see now.  In December 1980, this is where…”

 The story is myth. For those few who don’t recall, whatever reasons why, the bare facts start in December 1980, a legendary musician stopped for the weekend.  His band used to stay at the Breeze Inn as part of superstition, having stayed there during the early days touring on pennies in a van more likely to breakdown than arrive on time.  So, whenever in Chicago, he insisted on staying there.  Coming back from a radio interview the musician saw a fan waiting by the room.  The musician reached for a pen.  The fan reached for a gun.  The musician went to sign an autograph, and the fan shot.  The musician died.  The fan claimed to be an angel sent to make the musician immortal.  Like I said the rest is myth, the “real” why debated always since the plain truth is too unpalatable – lunatics don’t need reason to do crazy shit.  

 Soon as the bus pulled away, cameras flashing, the ghost peers out of the office, “They gone?”

 “Yep,” I say, cracking two beers, “Whiskey slug?”

 (Whiskey slug: personal slang for whiskey double.)

 Taking a seat next to me he says, “No thanks Connie.  I don’t feel like getting too strange this evening.”

 #

 “Hello.”

 “How do you do ma’am?”

 “I have cancer.”

 I nodded, “Not well then.”

 She smiled like a kindergarten teacher comforting a kid with a skinned knee, “I’d like a room.”

 “Okay. Sorry to be blunt, but I find it’s easier, um; there’s a thirty dollar additional fee applied to any guest we suspect is planning to, well…”

 “Suicide?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Actually, it’s a little more complicated than that.”

 #

 Marissa Oak explained things clearly, leaving no doubt as to her state of mind, intentions, or willingness to be dissuaded.  She intended to rent a room for two months.  Her doctor prophesized she would not last longer than one, but on the off chance she lived more, and for any inconvenience, she felt obliged to pay two in advance.  During that time she planned to stay in her room, allowing anyone who wished to visit her to spend however long they wished.  

 I asked, “Is it a kind of performance art?”

 She shrugged, “In a way.  More than anything else I just want some company.”

 Filling out her forms – writing somewhat escaped her since the cancer got to her brain – I asked, “What about family and friends?”

 “They’ll be here. But I kind of want new strangers too. It’s like Wilde said, something like the beauty of new friends is they don’t know the old stories.”

 “Do you have dinner plans?”

 She patted my hand, “Don’t be a cliché.”

 “Well, on that note, do you have any drugs?”

 She looked at me sidewise, “Morphine.”

 “We got junkies here.  Be careful. They’ll steal it.” I furrowed my brow, “Shit.”

 “What?” Marissa asked.

 “If you attract a crowd that means worse than junkies, fucking tourists.”

 She chuckled. I didn’t.

 #

 I swung the barbed wire bat, “Back!  Back you savages!”  

 Everyday droves of tourists arrived.  None seemed familiar with the concept of a line.  Whenever they scattered into something nebulous, the horde pushing in to watch Marissa die, I herded them back into formation with the bat.  The manager and I worked in tandem, taking turns herding and performing typical Breeze Inn duties.  When she could, Isabella lent a hand, her glare pushing the crowd from chaos to order.  

 It took three days for things to truly get out of hand.  By then news crews began arriving, spreading the word, reports drawing more and more spectators.  Members of her family did the same, dispersing word online.  Marissa wanted the company of strangers, well, she got it.

 Folks came from as far as Orlando to sit with her.  Some chatted, conversations ranging from the mundane to grasping at the profound. Others arrived to tout holistic cures Marissa politely declined.  Some stood silently, and left as quietly.  She welcomed all with a smile.  Those who held out a hand to shake she hugged.  Some kept a respectful distance, I suspected to hide their discomfort touching a wax wrapped skeleton.  Still others came to defeat accusations of pretention by leeching off Marissa’s death to seem deeper; I remember a twig like woman lying on the bed with Marissa, cuddling while the twig’s friend recorded them.  I wanted to smash the camera, but somehow sensing the intention, Marissa suggested by a subtle expression I leave them alone.  So I did.  She didn’t see what I saw -- #Idiedwithher.  She saw something positive I can’t relate because I couldn’t perceive it well enough to describe.  

 When she slept many left.  Others set up a tent city in the parking lot.  The manager, seizing on the opportunity, charged ten bucks per tent occupant.  They paid. It felt obscene, yet I still collected the cash every evening.  Though, that said, I skimmed a few off the top to bribe the worst junkies.  

 Hand a ten, “Leave her drugs alone.”

 “Whatev’s Connie. Jeez.  Acting like I’m some fucking scumbag.  I don’t rob the dead.”

 But you would. Who wouldn’t?  It’s not like they can stop you.

 By the third week Marissa couldn’t get out of bed.  She could barely speak, often just able to force a kind of gargle-cluck.  Her eyes appeared to go in and out of focus.

 The tourists stopped flooding in.  Many who stayed aimed all manner of camera at her, streaming her decline in real time.

 “We’re with her now…”

 No, you’re not, I thought, but remembering her glances I respected what would’ve been Marissa’s wishes.  I let them be.  

 Off duty hookers brought her water.  I remember Butterscotch laying a cold cloth on Marissa’s forehead.  She said, “This is how my mama died.  She went in a better place than this shit hole.  You know what I mean, right Connie?”

 “Yeah, Butter, I hear ya.”

 Towards the end the news crews departed, though reporters called regularly to see if Marissa died.  They shot enough stock footage they just needed to know when to say the end occurred. The tourists mostly left.  Even the hashtag allstars fled as reality crept in. What few remained occupied the parking lot wondering what to do next.  

 Meanwhile, in room 105 Marissa lay dying.  Her family and friends surrounded the bed.  Her breathing came irregularly, inspiring the guilty desire she die now, for her own good as well as theirs.  I stood in the doorway watching.  

 The manager approached, “Hey, Connie, since shit’s calmed down a bit, the usual stuff needs to get done.”

 Crossing my arms, “And what?”

 “And you need to do it.”

 “You’re saying I need to do my job, not be here.”

 He nodded, “Yeah.”

 “Then I quit.”

 A few hours later Marissa breathed her last.  When I walked away I saw the hookers on the second floor holding junkie candles in a vigil. The tent town broke up quickly, washed away on a flood of tears.  I saw Marissa’s younger brother disappear into 216, a heroin black hole he’d been orbiting.    

 In the office I collected my last few day’s pay.  The phone rang.  I answered.

 “Hello?”

 “This is channel {redacted for legal reasons}.  Is she dead yet?”

 Looking out the front I saw Marissa taking a seat next to the Musician.  He handed her a beer.  She smiled at me, and waved.

 I said, “Nope. She’s gonna live forever.”