#we can make a nice home on Tumblr if everyone places a brick in your community

[lmanburgseulogy]

EXACTLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! don't just like posts, reblog, leave your thought in the tags, message mutuals, send anon love (or hate) ask questions. use the apP!!!!!!!!!!! don't be scared to do anything except for boop.

if there's one thing we can learn from this booping experience it's that we need to give people notes and interact with them for tumblr to be fun and thriving

[moral-turpitudes]

Tea Party:

A/N: So Tumblr has been a bitch and not showing certain things in the tags so I’m reposting this requested fic lol.

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Some fluff, Slight smut, Swearing, Fighting, Blood, Drinking/Alcohol, etc.

Word Count: 3,425

Characters: Tommy x Reader

Summary: Y/n helps Ada Shelby on a whim, saving her life and earning some praise from the Shelby family, but little did she know she’d fall for one of their most respected members.

Summary of Request: “Reader saving one of the Shelbys from their enemies and taking them home safely and the family being thankful. A few days later the enemy goes after the reader thinking she works for them and they destroy her shop, house, or car. The Shelbys find out about this and offer help, and she becomes closer to the family and everybody really likes her and she starts a relationship with Tommy. I’d like angst, fluff, and smut.”

Requested by: Anon

It was a bleak winter evening the night you met Thomas Shelby. The stars were shining and the moon was illuminating the dark roads of Small Heath, giving you an rare view of the town. You had just finished packing up your small jewelry stand that you had set up near where your families vardo was parked. This was one of your more frequent stops as there were always locals wanting to buy jewelry for their loved ones. In return, this made you a nice familiar face amongst the dreary town.

In the distance, you heard screaming, but it wasn’t one of children playing or couples yelling, it was fearful and full of anguish. Before you knew it you were running towards the sound. Yelling for your mother to keep an eye on your stuff as you dashed off into the unknown. Your heart beat frantically as the shrill screams got closer, causing a shiver down your spine as your eyes adjusted to what lay before you in the dark alley. A woman seemingly around your age was lying there in a pool of blood, a cut running across her arm and a stab wound to her abdomen. You cringed at first, but having seen your fair share of blood due to your family throwing punches and hunting, it made you a bit less squeamish. You carefully crouched down beside her, pulling off your scarf as you gently placed it over her abdomen.

Her eyes were closed and her voice was horse when she spoke.

“Please don’t let me die out here. Please take me back.” She said crying as she finally glanced up at you.

“I-I won’t let you die love you’ll be fine...where do you live? What’s your name?” You asked applying pressure to her wound as she screamed out in pain.

“A-Ada...Ada Shelby...I don’t want to go home. Take me to my brothers.” She said frantically trying to get up.

“Hey hey easy, it’s okay I got you. Where are they aye?” You asked as you draped her arm across your shoulder and helped her walk down the dark glass-like roads.

“The betting shop on the corner. You really don’t know do you?” She asked.

“Know what Ada?” You asked, leading her up the street.

“Usually if I say the last name Shelby people run or they look at me like I killed their whole family. The Shelby’s are part of the Peaky Blinders...does that ring a bell?” She asked wincing, signaling for you to stop for a moment. As you both caught your breath, you shook your head no.

“I don’t know how you couldn’t tell but I’m not like most people. I’m not from here. I travel with my family and I come here often to find work and to sell jewelry, but other than that? I’m on the road.” You said looking at your flat shoes, nothing compared to miss Ada’s fancy heels.

“I see...what’s your name?” She asked smiling slightly.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You said, grabbing her arm and helping her walk towards the brick building up ahead.

You led her through the doors, the scent of whiskey and cigarettes filling the dimly lit lobby.

“Polly! Tommy! All of you bastards help me please!” She said yelling as the scarf grew more saturated with blood in the short time you walked her in. She was paling and you sat her up in a nearby chair as you heard everyone running over.

“My god what happened! Arthur, John, get the first aid kit now!” She yelled as Tommy came over, a worried look on his usually stoic face. You grabbed your coat, applying pressure as Ada winced until they got back with the supplies.

“I was walking here from my apartment. Tommy, I think one of Changretta’s men got me. They had those awful tattoos on their necks. They fucking cut me and stabbed me. I can’t die not like this.” She said putting a hand on her pale forehead.

Tommy looked at her concerned, his eyes going down to you as you sat by her holding her other hand.

“Who are you?” He asked angrily.

“Y/N Y/L/N...I heard her when I was packing my jewelry stand up. I ran over to help her. I didn’t see where the men went though.” You said looking him in the eyes before helping Polly prep some gauze. You took your glove off and urged her to open her mouth.

“You’ll want to bite down on something. This is going to hurt.” You said before pouring some of the whiskey on her abdomen while Polly poured some on her arm. Ada screamed through the cloth, earning concerned glances from some of the unrelated workers in the shop. You poured more, making sure to flush out the wound before quickly threading a needle.

“I can stitch if you’d rather not go to a hospital.” You said. Polly eyed you and Ada nodded as you began. Tommy watched as you worked, neatly stitching the small puncture wound closed.

Polly gently wrapped her arm with gauze and you helped Ada up to wrap some around her waist. After that, she gave you a hug and you went to grab your coat.

“No dear, here I’ll wash these, it’s the least we can do. Thank you for saving our Ada, Y/N.” Polly said smiling.

“Of course...I couldn’t let something happen knowing I was that close.” You said, messing nervously with the gold necklaces draped around your neck.

“So you’re travelling with the other gypsies up the road aye?” Polly asked.

“Yeah. my family likes stopping here, good business since it’s busy usually.” You said.

“Oh I’m very familiar. I grew up traveling. I think I’ve seen you before...you sell the beautiful necklaces.” She said smiling, putting your nerves at ease.

“Yeah...” You said.

“C’mon we have to find them. John you get the guns, Arthur you get the ammo.” Tommy said lowly walking by you.

“Are you going after them?” You asked him. He stopped in his tracks as his eyes pierced yours. He nodded and lit a cigarette staring at you as he waited for his brothers.

“You going to kill them?” you asked.

He smirked and looked over at Ada and Polly and then back at you.

“No I’m just goin’ to see if they want to have a tea party.” He said dryly joking.

You nodded, knowing the real answer. To be honest you’d do the same if someone came after your family.

They soon left, leaving you with Polly and a groaning Ada.

“You’ve not heard of the blinders?” Polly asked gathering your blood soaked clothing. You shook your head, yet preparing yourself for her explanation of the family business.

Later that night, you were taken back to where you family was parked by one of the Shelby’s drivers. Thanking him as you were helped out of the fancy black car. Your family came out of the two vardos and ran towards you enveloping your frame in a hug and asking where you had run off to. You hesitantly told them, knowing they were more likely to know who your new acquaintances are.

Your father tensed up and so did your mother, but you reassured them and could tell they were still happy you stopped to help someone.  

The next few days passed and you spent them selling various necklaces and then deciding to go into town with your parents. You all bought some supplies and various things, and then returned a few hours later. While unpacking your latest haul, you heard an oddly familiar voice outside. Carefully stepping out, you saw Ada and Tommy talking with your parents. They seemed at ease as you heard Tommy speaking with your father. As you walked up you saw Ada smile and go in for a hug. You embraced her gently to avoid ripping her stitches and then stepped back.

“Hello Y/N. We wanted to thank you.” He said smiling slightly, handing you your jacket and scarf from the previous night, no sign of blood on them. They were soft and smelled rather floral.

“Oh thank you. And it was no problem really Mr. Shelby.” You said, catching him looking at you as you glanced up from the coat in your arms.

“Call me Tommy.” He said, another small smile playing at his lips.

Your parents excused themselves knowing this was more your business than theirs, and you hugged Ada once more before waving them off.

A thought crossed your mind though, making you smirk.

“Hey Tommy!” You asked, causing him to stop with Ada, the two of them looking at you.

“How was the tea party?” You asked smirking.

“Great...a little bloody though.” He said smirking back.

You nodded and waved them off, putting on your coat and placing your scarf in one of your pockets. When you tried to pull your hand out, your fingers brushed against a piece of paper. You gently pulled it out, and opened it so you could read what it said.

“Y/N Y/L/N,

I apologize for being so frank last night. Per my aunt Polly’s request...as well as all of my sibling’s, I have written this as a thank you for saving my sister. She has been talking non-stop about the events that transpired and about you. Something about how we should meet more often and that you seem like a good fit for me? I can’t say no to her though, since she practically begged me to write this.

Therefore, since we didn’t meet in normal circumstances and since I can’t help but to agree, I’d love to ask you out. I’ll be at the shop tomorrow evening at 6. If you’re interested, I’d love for you to come by. I look forward to getting to know you and discussing the “tea party.”

~ T. S.”

You smiled at the small letter and laughing at the assumed inside joke between you two. You’d barely met the man, but if his family felt this strongly, you figured it couldn’t hurt. You’d been single for a long while, the constant travel putting a strain on any relationship you attempted to have in the past.

The next day you spent the day rummaging through your various dresses, picking out a lacey white one. You slipped it on and checked your makeup in the small mirror in your vardo before heading out, wrapping your coat around your shoulders. As you made your way through the streets you eventually got to the shop and walked in nervously. It was a drastically different atmosphere compared to the other night, men were roaming about yelling out various numbers and the other women among them were typing and making calls.

You saw Polly in the distance and smiled when she saw you come in. She quickly walked over, giving you a hug.

“What are you doing here dear? Is everything alright?” She asked.

You smirked. “I’m um, here to see Tommy. I got a letter?” You said, holding it in your hand.

“Ah that. I’m glad he got to writing it. I’ll show you to his office.” She said, taking your hand.

She knocked and he answered, letting her in with you following behind.

“I have a visitor Tommy. Be good. She said nodding towards him and leaving.

Tommy smiled and stood up, eyeing you as you walked towards his desk.

“I see you got the letter...would you like a drink? I have whiskey and.....whiskey.” He said, walking over to his stash of the brown liquid and crystal glasses.

“That’s a hard one...I’m going to have to go with the whiskey.” You said smirking.

A minute later you were holding a cold glass, sipping on it as you sat in one of Tommy’s leather chairs.

“So about the tea party...I’m assuming my aunt told you about the peaky business right?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You said, fiddling with your necklace.

“Does that make you scared?” He asked. You thought for a moment, but you decided to take another chance.

“Not really. I’m here aren’t I?” You said.

He laughed lightly and took a drink, sitting down beside you.

“You said you agreed to their request of meeting me...is that true?” You asked. Tommy got up after a moment and put his hand out for you to grab.

“If it weren’t, we wouldn’t be leaving.” He said. You took his hand and laughed as he pulled you through the lobby and out the doors of the shop.

“Where the hell are we going?” You asked seeing the sun was setting over the town.

“The Garrison. I figured that it’d be more of a date if I took ya somewhere.” He said ushering you inside the pub. The smell of smoke and various alcohols filled your nostrils as you took your coat off and placed it with Tommy’s.

As you all talked the night away, you grew more drowsy and he walked you back towards your vardo. But in shock, you stood there looking at the sight before you. The wooden planks holding up the intricate structure were torn off, and the inside was destroyed. You ran over to your parents and saw them picking up pieces of clothing and random trinkets the assumed robbers left behind. When you walked back and checked your living space you saw a black cross-like design had been painted on your door.

You looked at Tommy with hot, anger filled tears in your eyes.

“Who did this? Who fucked with my family aye?” You said walking up to him and shoving him in the shoulder. He barely moved as a an angry look overcame his features as well. You stormed off and rummaged for a handgun you had in your purse, never feeling the need to use it until now.

“You know who did this don’t you. Don’t fucking lie to me Tom.” You said cocking the gun and checking the bullets. He watched you as you angrily paced, and walked over, gently placing his hand over the barrel of the gun.

“I do know. It’s the same gang that attacked Ada. We...unfortunately have a vendetta with them. But going out there and shooting random men isn’t going to stop this.” He said looking at you. You were shaking slightly at the sudden rush of emotions as the alcohol still burned through your system.

“They took almost everything from us. Where will we go? Where the hell will we live? I though you took care of them last time!” You yelled, easing the handgun down and shoving it back into your purse.

“I have a spare property down the road, you all can stay there. Don’t worry Y/N I’ll make sure they won’t live to see tomorrow.” He said before you threw him into a hug. You cried knowing your family was safe, but also at the thought of losing all you’ve worked for. Your life was in that small space and it was all gone or severely broken, and your heart was too.

“C’mon, I’ll send some men to come help them. I’ll take you to the shop, and you’ll stay there until I get back ok?” He said. You nodded and followed him to the shop, this time in a much more sullen tone.

He immediately called everyone into the meeting room and he let you sit by Polly as he spoke. You quietly told her what happened and she sighed. The rest of them you had assumed liked you after saving their sisters life and all, and so they all got ready, cocking their guns and putting on their razor caps. Ada came over to you with tears in her eyes, taking your hands in hers.

“Oh Y/N I’m so sorry to have dragged you into this.” She said. You smiled and reassured her she wasn’t at fault. As the night drug on, you discussed your new living situation and were alerted by some of Tommys men that your parents were safe. You cried with relief, sitting in the meeting room shakily. Polly came in a moment later, with some tea, knowing you needed something to calm your nerves.

“Thanks.” You said, feeling the hot steam against your lips.

“No problem. Don’t worry about him, he’ll be back. He always is.” She said staring out at the night sky through the dusty window.

You nodded, sitting there as you let your mind wander. You looked up after a long while, your eyes growing heavy, and decided to concentrate on the clock. It was almost midnight.

Before your mind could race to where your new love interest could be, he thankfully came through the doors with his brothers, as they hollered and sat their weapons down.

You stood up slowly, as you saw Tommy walk towards you. He had a cut on his forehead and a slightly busted lip.

He said nothing as he came to you, the adrenaline from the night coursing through him as he embraced you, catching you by surprise. He then kissed you, his lip burning slightly as he kissed you, but nevertheless he continued. When he stopped, you stood there gazing into his eyes.

“They’re gone. You don’t have to worry now.” He said. You nodded and hugged him again, feeling him planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Well are you going to invite her over or are you going to fuck in the lobby?” Arthur shouted as John and the others laughed. Tommy turned around slightly and gave him a look and then turned back to you.

“Would you like to go now?” He asked.

Your cheeks heated up at his brothers remarks, but you decided to take him up on the offer. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I do.” You said, and before you knew it you where being led out to his car and driven to his house, nervously awaiting what was to come. As soon as you got to his estate, he led you through on a tour. Your eyes widened at the grandiosity of the place. You had rarely seen a place like this, only imagining them in fairytales. You looked around as he led you through, stopping lastly at the main bedroom which you assumed was his.

You had just enough time to revel at the room before he kissed you again, making you giggle slightly as he snaked his arms around your waist and nipped at your neck. As he worked his way down, he undid your dress, letting it slip down your frame as he went to lie back on the bed. You hesitantly undid his shirt and pants, slipping them off as he watched you.

“Are you sure you want to?” He asked.

“Never been so sure in my life...” You said before straddling his waist. He smirked, and kissed you as you continued your movements making him fall for you more with each second that passed.

After your night together, you decided a couple of days later on another date, more-so like a re-do since you both were more drawn to each other. As time went on, you became closer with his family, while yours acclimated to their new temporary surroundings. And over the upcoming weeks you managed to land a job with them, helping you to earn some money and helping your parents to get a new vardo to get them back on their feet. After a couple of months you had been able to attend more of the family meetings, after deciding to stay at Tommy’s place instead of travelling. And after some odd weeks later, a new gang problem arose, giving you that same fearful feeling that you had some many months ago. Before heading out, tommy cocked his gun and checked the bullets making sure each one was accounted for, and walked past you with his brothers towards the door.

“Hey you forgot something...” You said smirking as he smiled and walked towards you kissing you.

“No more tea parties alright? You be careful okay?” You said. He chuckled and winked at you before heading out the door, going out to deal with death and destruction once again. As much as you hated him being gone, you loved when he came back, and his family did too of course, especially since you’ve made him a bit nicer. As you walked back to your desk and picked up where you left of with your work, you smiled, knowing you made the right choice and took the right chances.

Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma

[magicalshitposts]

The boy finds home

(If you wanna read on AO3 and avoid Tumblr’s awful text formatting Click Here)

The small outlier sat in the corner of Kohga’s throne room, ignoring the commotion in the middle.

“Look newbie, I don’t know what you want to do with the brat but he’s not my problem.” Kohga declared to the foot-soldier who stood in front of his throne.

“But Master, he’s just a chi-“

“Not. My. Problem.” Kohga shooed the man away, and the solider had no choice but to comply, “Boy, come over here.”

The boy did not. In fact, he made no movement at all, acting as if Kohga was not in the room.

“Boy.” Nothing still, “At least tell me your name then.”

The boy spoke for the first time, “Why? If you’re just gonna chuck me out.”

The man on the throne sighed, “Well I am the great Master Kohga. Now you know my name, tell me yours.”

Again, the boy did not.

“Kid, I have better things to do in life then sit around and wait for you to talk.”

The child spoke again, “Then do them, ‘cause your gonna be waiting a long time.”

“Why you aggravating little- Kohga stopped himself, this was a child after all- Keep calm Kohga, keep calm”

He stood himself up from his throne, “Fine, have it your way.”

Kohga was just leaving the room as a spark of panic flooded through the child. He didn’t want to be alone, not again. “I don’t know.”

Kohga turned his head back, “You don’t know what?”

“My name. I don’t know it.”

“Well that’s sad.”

“Yeah – the kid looked towards the man, puzzled– I know.”

The boy had stayed there that night, and the next, and the next and then for a week. It had become clear to the Clan that this boy was staying, if only for a while.

“SOOGA! COME OVER HERE!” Master Kohga’s voice shrilled through the halls surrounding his bedroom late one night and his right-hand man appeared beside the man’s desk in a such small time it made Kohga jump.

“Master Kohga, How may I be of assistance.” Sooga asked looking down to Kohga.

“Firstly by easing up a little, sheesh.” Kogha gestured to another chair in the room and took off his mask, getting Sooga to do the same, “Sit down, your gonna be here a while.”

Sooga sat but by no means looked more comfortable.

“Right then, the boy.” Annoyance dripped in Kohga’s voice. He clearly did not want to be having this conversation, which was a surprise to Sooga. Normally if the Master didn’t want to have a conversation, he just wouldn’t. Why was this different?

“What about him?” Sooga pushed for Master Kohga to finish his thoughts.

“If he’s staying here, he’s going to have to be called something other than ‘the boy’.” Kohga leaned on the back on his seat, his legs too short to touch the ground.

“He does not have a name though, Master.” Sooga watched apprehensively as Kohga swung back and forth.

“Exactly, so what am I getting at?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“C’mon Muscles, dig down in that cavern of a brain.”

Sooga was bothered at this comment. Everyone knew that he was the brains of the operation. The entire clan would be dead if it weren’t for him, especially when Master Kohga got put in charge. Now, Sooga didn’t want to take credit away from Kohga, in fact that was the last thing he wanted, but Kohga knew that Sooga was far from an unintelligent man and he would appreciate the recognition.

Sooga caught on.

“Please tell me you aren’t suggesting we name the child, Master?”

“Bingo, Big guy!”

Sooga looked bewildered by the proposal.

“Sir, with all due respect are-“

“No respect needed lackey; this is what we’re going to do.”

“Sir. Listen to me.” Kohga glanced towards his right-hand man, “by naming this child we claim a sense of responsibility for him, whether we like that or not. Are we prepared to care for a child? Is the Clan prepared to care for a child?”

“Come off it Sooga, you’re making us sound like a married couple.” Kohga laughed completely ignoring the question.

“Master Kohga.”

Kohga sighed. “I don’t know, but the kid’s staying now so it’s a bit too late to be asking that question. And anyway, ‘we’ aren’t caring for anything, I’ll still be preparing to the Great Calamity’s revival and you’ll still be assisting me or whatever, we’ll leave the boy under the Clan’s care. I’m sure with the hundreds of them there are, they’ll cope with one measly kid.”

Not the answer Sooga wanted but he must settle for what he got.

“Now, names!”

 The conversation carried on for a while, discussing the different names for the child. They first threw out a few random suggestions, none of which sat properly. Sooga suggested Hayle, Kohga suggested Sooga start thinking of good names before he’s kicked out.

The ideas were just a melting snowball before Sooga stated “He’s Sheikah, isn’t he?”

Kohga tapped his chair, “I mean, yes with that hair but it’s not like he knows. Why?”

“We could name him after the Sheikah naming conventions.” Sooga suggested.

“As a Yiga Master this goes against every one of my core values.” Sooga laughed lightly at the Master’s response to his suggestion. “And who would name their kid after fruit anyway, it’s ridiculous.”

“To us maybe, but this boy isn’t Yiga. We should respect his culture Master Kohga.”

Kohga rolled his eyes all too dramatically before giving in.

“Fine. We’ll call him Apple.”

“Master, Sheikah name’s derive from fruit, they aren’t directly named after it.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Kohga jumped off his seat in his excitement, “We should name him after the mighty banana. He could be called like, Na…Bana… yeah, Bana?”

Sooga just stared towards his boss.

“Fine maybe not, but my fruit Knowledge is not too great y’know!”

Sooga looked around Master Kohga’s room, for any and all inspiration that may come his way. His eyes settled on a tiny, framed painting, one that the Master insisted he hated but had never put away. He felt like Master Kohga’s notion towards this painting may be similar to the one of the child.

“How about after strawberries?” Sooga suggested.

“Oh don’t tell me your looking at that horrible painting- Sooga smiled endiringly- What would we even call him, Strawman?”

Sooga thought about it.

“Robbie.”

“How’s that connected to Strawberries? Strawberry… straw-robbie… Oh! that’s actually nice.”

And it was decided.

The boy was no longer just ‘The boy’, but was Robbie.

 He woke up early in the morning, as he normally did. It took him a minute remind himself he was safe… ish. He wasn’t in the forest preparing to go rummage in the trash for food, so it was a step up in his book. He had been told to sleep in the dungeon, in one of the cells. This didn’t make him feel all too comfortable, but the cell door stayed open so that’s nice. He walked around, with aim of going to the mess hall for food. But the Yiga Hideout was windy and treacherous for someone who didn’t know it, especially to the mind of a small boy. He got lost far too quickly for his liking, so looked for landmarks as he did in the wild. He recognised the frog statue that had a crack in its head, it was different than the rest. He was on the right track. He passed the hallway with the holes in the ground (he didn’t know what those were for, but they looked menacing) and then took a left and he was completely and utterly lost. Crap. It wasn’t his fault, all the rooms here looked the same, how was he supposed to know the difference. He was surprised that the people who lived here could tell the rooms apart. He sat down in the dark dingy hallway and waited. There were loads of people in this place, someone would pass him eventually.

 While the boy waited for another person to see the light of day went to the closest room and examined. It’s what he did best. He decided to go over the room top to bottom. From the ceiling to the walls, he would know this room better than anyone who lived here by breakfast.

It was big. That felt like a good start. It was huge in fact. The boy knew it may just be his brain playing tricks on him as he was so small, but the hole in the middle of the room must have been the size of at least 20 moblins. A fact for you, the boy did not have the best idea of size.

The boy felt himself getting wrapped up in this room, wanting to know every secret it could ever hold. Why was there a hole in the middle? Why put a lantern over the hole, what if it fell in? How did they make the actual room round? Bricks are square! He had so many questions for this room, all of them he wanted to answer himself, through his own intuitiveness. But that opportunity was cut short by the huge man with kinda dumb hair.

“There you are boy. Come now, you’re needed.”

“Why?” The boy asked.

“Master Kohga needs you in his office.” The big man, who the boy remembered was called ‘Sooga’, put out his hand for the boy to take. He just looked at it.

“I can’t leave. I’m not done yet.”

“Done with what?” Sooga knelt to be on The boy’s level. Patronising.

The boy rolled his eyes at the fact Sooga didn’t know, it was pretty obvious to him what he was doing, “Examining the room. I still have questions to ask it.”

Sooga didn’t quite understand what the child meant but played along anyway. “Could you ask them after the Master talks to you?”

“No, I need to do this first. I’ll forget the questions otherwise.”

Sooga reflected. Normally people here would drop everything if Master Kohga needed to talk to them, but this boy wasn’t a Yiga. He didn’t know the importance of the Master.

“Well the Master needs to talk to you now,” The boy was about to protest before Sooga cut him off, “So how about we write down the questions you want to ask. Then you’ll remember them for after. I can help answer them too, if the Master allows it.”

The boy thought about it. He had never even considered writing his questions down, mainly due to the fact he didn’t know how to read or write, but if this Sooga guy could help him, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.  

“We need to write them down now though.”

“Of course.”

 One wrong turn! He was one turn away from the mess hall! And sure, he was glad he made the wrong turn, otherwise he wouldn’t have found that cool room, but he was still annoyed at himself. Sooga had stopped in front of a big red door.

“Behave, okay.” He looked to the boy, who rolled his eye’s in response.

“It depends if he says something dumb or not.”

“Boy.” Sooga’s voice got stricter, “Behave.”

The boy shuffled where he stood, tears forming at the sides of his eyes. He didn’t like getting told off.

“Master, I’ve got him.” Sooga entered the room, ushering the boy to do the same.

“Boy! You’ve been a right pain in my side!” Kohga was sat at a heightened table, eating a banana. He pointed to the chair opposite. The boy made no sign to sit down so was guided to the chair.

Kohga raised an eyebrow, but the boy couldn’t see it behind the mask, “Where have you been?”

“In that cool circle room.” He answered, the thought of his questions came back to him, “Actually can this be quick, I still have questions to ask it.”

Sooga sighed and placed a hand on the child’s shoulder, prompting him to stop. The boy moved away from the touch.

“You hungry?” Kohga pointed to the bowl of bananas on the next table over. The boy shook his head, why were there so many tables if it was one guy’s room?

“Your loss, anyway. I got some news for you. After a week of you being here, I don’t think I’d be forgiven if I sent you back into Hyrule. So, welcome to your new home.”

The boy looked confused.

“What?” He said.

“What?” Was the only answer that Kohga gave back.

“What do you mean, ‘welcome to your new home’?”

“I mean, you can live here. With us and the clan,” He looked to Sooga who just shrugged in response.

“Why?” The boy asked another question.

“Well done kid, you know the 5 W’s.” Kohga paused, “What do you mean why?”

“You were talking about kicking me out only a week ago. What’s different now?”

“Kid, you only arrived a week ago. Of course I wasn’t keen on keeping you around then, but let’s say I’ve warmed to you. You aren’t half bad, and as long as your not a little… pest, you can stay.”

The boy paused. The thought of a home. In his brain he was jumping for joy, so this was home now. Home.

“Thanks.”

“Well that’s news one out of the way-“

The boy jumped in his seat, “There’s more?”

Kohga laughed a little, maybe childhood excitement was more contagious than he thought.

“Yeah, there’s more.”

The child waited in anticipation.

Kohga was really playing it up now, “So, I’m guessing your getting pretty sick of people calling you ‘the boy’”.

The child shrugged in response, “I guess I’m used to it now. It doesn’t really bother me.”

Ouch. Well if that didn’t tug on Kohga’s heart strings. “Well you definitely don’t like not having a name. I could see that from the day I met you. So, if it’s not too imposing or anything. Me and good ol’ Sooga here thought of one for you. Robbie.”

The boy and Sooga had the same look of surprise, but one was hidden by their mask. Sooga wasn’t expecting credit for the child’s name. If he didn’t feel a sense of duty before, he did now. Sooga was a loyal soul and vowed to himself right then and there to protect this child, Robbie, with his life.

 robbe. robby. Robbiy. Robbie. A name all of his own. Given too him by the people who he now shares a home with. Holy Hylia. Robbie was now crying. Normally he was good at holding back emotions, tears would form but never stream down his face. He’d be over it before it mattered. This however was so entirely different. He was crying. Sobbing at the idea of having a home, of being Robbie. 7 years he’d just been ‘boy’ or ‘child’, maybe that affected him more than he once thought. Because having Sooga kneeling in front of him saying “It’s okay Robbie, you’re alright” put a band aid on his scared, damaged soul. And it would be one of many as he became a part of a family.

---------------------------------------------------

I really enjoyed writing this, It’s cute wholesome fun and I will definitely be writing more of this AU. 

Also god bless This Post by 7spaceace7. I wouldn’t even know where to start about writing the hideout so this was such a help.

Anyway, have a nice day!

[sunflovverharry]

Allegiance - Fakedating!Harry

Finally decided to make a new tumblr for my writing as I’ve been wanting to start posting forever ago, but my former blog was marked explicit for no reason!! BUT here I am, shitting bricks that I’m actually posting my work.. Let me present to you; Fakedating!Harry

word count: 4.4k warnings: language, drinking, angst, fluff summary: harry and y/n go through the ups and downs of their slowly changing relationship pairing: harry x reader

!!!!! it’s my first time releasing anything I’ve ever written and i’m shitting my pants. this was so fun to write and I hope you enjoy it! please reblog, like or tell me what you liked about it, i’ll greatly appreciate it🥺 i have a series i’m working on atm that’ll be out soon (hopefully), along with multiple one-shots so look out for that if you enjoyed this piece (the series is fwb!harry if that’ll help you want to read it hahah). enjoy my first one-shot of fakedating!harry (might put out a part 2 to this sometime but don’t take my word for it)

It wasn’t the first family gathering I had to come with him to. Not even the tenth. No, it was probably more like the fiftieth I couldn’t say no to coming to during the last two tears. Two years of playing his loving and devoting girlfriend. His family and friends have known us as the perfect couple since he first introduced me a warm july evening two years ago. Apart from it being a fake relationship, it seems pretty fucking real to the outside world. Maybe we’re just that great actors.

July 19th 2018

Harry took a hold of my hand as we walked through the luxurious modern home in the outskirts of London. It is the first time I’ve stepped foot in this house - eager to catch every little detail as I slowly walked beside Harry. It was gorgeous and I hoped to get a tour sometime. Not that I even know if I’ll ever come back here after tonight. It might be a one-night thing for all I know, only agreeing to come with Harry because I literally could not find an excuse to save my life.

Being at a function where you know next to nobody except your supposed boyfriend is terrifying, but at the same time I had to hide my nerves in case anyone caught on.

Our family has never had any big parties or get-togethers except for weddings - which there weren’t many of. Most of my cousins decided they were off fine without a marriage certificate to validate their relationships. I supported them in their decision, but ultimately I want to marry the one I one day want to spend the rest of my life with. Not having the best relationship reputation it’ll probably be a while until a wedding where I’m the bride takes place.

The large double french doors leading out to the expansive garden were open for guests to go in and out of the house and to the garden where mostly everyone were mingling when we arrived. The engagement celebration of Harry’s sister and her fiancée was in full swing and it looked as if we were the last ones missing. That made it all the more terrifying. How on earth are we going to keep up the façade of us being in a relationship all night?

We’d talked about details on the way here deciding to go with our friends setting us up on a blind date a few months back. It isn’t far from the truth, but we were definitely not on a date. We had to accompany our best mates who were on a date, but for the most part we ignored each other only letting the talk and get to know each other. The worst thing is, it wasn’t even worth it as they literally shagged and didn’t see each other again.

As to how we’re now here together - I accidentally walked into him and spilt my tea all over his fancy suit clinging to his body. Cliché, I know. To repay him for the spill, he asked me to be his pretend girlfriend and like I said I suck at excuses so here we are about to be introduced to his whole family it seems. Way to take away the attention from the happy couple.

«Mum.» Harry’s hand slipped from mine as we closed up on the group to the left. I didn’t want to interrupt a reunion between Harry and his mum so I kept my stance a few feet behind him and waited for Harry to take the lead as he hugged his mum saying a quick hello to the rest of the people standing in the small circle.

«Y/n, mum. Mum, y/n.» Harry stepped to the side so I could take the short steps forward to greet his mother. It was the first time I was meeting a guy of any sort parents and I’m sure I was shaking as she pulled me in for a hug. It was warm and welcoming as she whispered in my ear.

«It’s so lovely to meet you finally, y/n.» I smiled at her as we parted. She kept her hands on my upper arms taking me in with her moving eyes. «Harry hasn’t told us anything or answered a single question about you, but now I can ask you myself!» She cheered as Harry groaned in the background. How was this lovely lady basically getting pulled into a trap by her 26 year old son?

The next few greetings went above and beyond my expectations. With knowing how insensitive and closed off Harry, I had imagined his family was the same - which looking back was unkind of me as his family are the complete opposite. Being here accompanied by his loved ones also showed me that maybe Harry isn’t as hard as he comes off as, he just doesn’t like to open up to the wrong people. I can tolerate and understand that, but he hasn’t exactly made an effort to get to know me, so I wouldn’t say he has a right to be heartless towards me. Not after I’ve done him a massive favor.

«How long have you been together then?» Harry had gone to talk to his future brother-in-law and sister and I was left seated with some family friends of theirs. I didn’t mind one bit spending time with other people than Harry. It was freeing not having to pretend and have his hand caressing my thigh and asking if I wanted anything from the bar. Sure, I would have reveled in it if we were anything close to friends or even lovers, but just knowing it’s him makes me want to shake him off.

«It’ll be six months on the 27th. We had our second date on his birthday actually and he didn’t even tell me! Can you believe that?» I asked incredulously. It wasn’t true, we hadn’t even met up on his birthday nevertheless been on a fucking date.

We sat in comfortable conversation for a couple minutes talking about Harry and me before he came back sliding his arm over the back of my chair. His fingertips trailed up and down my arm as he quickly got back into the conversation.

It felt oddly normal when we were conversing about day-to-day subject and talking about solely ourselves, but then I’m brought right back into the plain lie about our relationship.

July 2nd 2020

This time it wasn’t an engagement party though, it was a celebration of Marie and Jack having been married for 30 years. It’s a huge accomplishment and compared to every other gathering, I’m happy to be here. Though the fake relationship between Harry and I hasn’t been the best, we’ve certainly tried our best and his family still seem to believe it.

We’ve had our ups and downs in private, but always been on our best behavior out with his family - holding hands, laying my head on his shoulder, him kissing my temple and squeezing my waist. It didn’t happen all too often, thank god, but we’d shared the odd kiss or two at times where it deemed right to do so. I’m not sure I could bear getting a taste of his lips more than I had to. At his sister's wedding last summer when we were slow dancing somewhere in the midst of all his family and their friends we slowly leaned in - whether in the heat of the moment or because it seemed we had to i’m still not sure. Either way, it was a nice kiss shared between us when we were both drunk off of champagne and the love we felt around us.

Since, there’s been a few pecks here and there, but mostly keeping to placing our lips on the others cheek, forehead or hand. I do think Harry’s opened up, though only slightly, it still warmed my heart. We’ve had quite a few enjoyable chats whilst driving home or sitting in a corner of the garden we’ve spent most our time in at his parents home. I still don’t know where he lives, him picking me up and only going to wherever the dinner or party would be held.

We haven’t discussed how much longer we’re keeping the lie going about us, but it was starting to gnaw at me knowing we would probably part ways in not too long and never meet again. He had become a part of my life I’m not sure I want to lose. The beginning was horrible and we didn’t get along in private, but after that kiss at the wedding something turned in the both of us (I hope).

Up until recently we’ve been really fucking lucky to have avoided all questions about moving in together and a possible ring on my finger. Weeks ago when we had dinner with his parents the questions surely weren’t held away though. Babies, apartments, rings and everything of the sort were brought up. It was heavy subject for two people who barely could stand each other a year ago and by the end of the dinner I was more than ready to put an end to this extremely complicated lie. It’s turned into much more than the one party I agreed to the first time he asked me.

We had a nice chat about how we were excited to see his nieces again in the car, giggling about our memories with them these last two years. It was nice being so open and comfortable with him not having to worry about him being angry or quiet. He talked back and laughed with me and even told me a couple stories from before I was in their life. I’ll miss them and the rest of his family when we inevitably end us.

Marie greeted us just like she does every time we come by, for dinner, a party or game night I just couldn’t refuse to join in on - with a kind smile grazing her lips and the same welcoming hug she’d given me the first time we met and ever since. It was really something I was looking forward to when I knew I’d be seeing her.

«Harry, y/n! You look fabulous, did you force him to match his tie to your dress?» Marie squinted her eyes at me in a ‘I know he’d never do it if he wasn’t forced to’ look. And of course, she knew her son way better than I did and only laughed with her as I told her yes, indeed I even had to put it on him myself. Which was the truth for once.

«Hopefully we’ll be throwing you some kind of celebration sometime soon, yeah? Engagement, pregnancy?» She hinted at the subjects we tried our very best to steer away from at all times as we followed her back to the garden I was falling more and more in love with. For the most part we’d been able to laugh our way out of it.

Harry laughed as he took two glasses of champagne from a server for the both of us to sip. It would definitely clear any pregnancy rumours which I’m sure there were swirling around between his family members. This family does not like to take their time with anything, saying life is too short to fool around. I’m sure they’re concerned and suspicious of why we’re taking things slow not even living together when his sisters all got engaged or married within the two first years, but they’ll be let in on our secret soon enough I hope.

In one way I’d love for this all to be over and continue to live my life as I did before Harry - but to be honest I’m not quite sure how I’ll ever go back to that. Life with Harry sure has its pros and I would enjoy it as long as it lasted. Especially the expensive champagne they always seemed to have at every function.

A couple hours or so later the speeches were in full swing. I knew Harry wasn’t doing one as I’m sure everyone would think he’d propose to me at the end of it, so he decided to forget about it. After his sisters had said some lines each, Marie and Jack stood up at the head table right next to us. They looked as in love now as they did two years ago and it was incredible witnessing how the spark between them never seemed to die. I can only wish to have a marriage as wonderful.

«You want more to drink? Can have mine if you want.» Harry offered quietly before Jack asked everyone about how gorgeous his wife looks tonight. He truly adores her and it shows in every way he acts and speaks to her.

«Yes, please. Thank you.» I grabbed the glass of some sort of concoction from his much larger hand. Smiling up at him, I sipped the drink from the straw feeling his hand squeeze my waist to pull me closer though I’m not sure how much closer I could get unless I sat on his lap. We’d been touching each other considerably more than usual during the night. It felt good and with how friendly we’ve been lately I almost wanted more, just like how I’ve been wanting for the last couple months. More touching my thigh, more squeezing my waist, more kisses on my temple, more brushing my hair away from my face. He was addicting, inexplicably so.

Harry put his lips to my cheek as we listened to his parents speak about how their love was at an all time high, even after thirty years of marriage, four children and a couple of granddaughters to show for it. The softness to their voices as they spoke passionate, kind, loving words to each other was absolutely remarkable. It brought my deepest feelings out and I couldn’t help but shed a tear or two. I hadn’t noticed they were falling before I felt Harry’s thumb whisking them away and pulling my head to rest on his shoulder, another kiss planted on my forehead this time.

I savored the moment, the love I felt all too much for me while thinking about how this would be over far too soon for my liking. His family were growing on me. Harry was growing on me. I enjoyed his company, when he would open up without me asking or begging to know a small detail that probably didn’t matter to him as much as it did to me. He had become a huge part of my everyday life by now, texting him on days we weren’t meeting up.

I firmly remember the first day we hung out just us two. It was a Tuesday evening and we had gone out to eat - really only to grab a photo we could give to his parents who had been begging for one. This was around halloween last year, so we were on solid grounds by then.

At first it was awkward as hell, neither knowing what to say or how to start the conversation, but after we had ordered we soon got into conversation and we didn’t stop until we’d been sat there for three hours. It still baffles my mind how nice that dinner was and how I didn’t ever think ‘can this be over soon?’. Thinking back, I think that’s the exact moment I realized I might’ve grown feelings for the man.

The night had gone by in a blink of the eye, suddenly it was nearing midnight and we had just said goodbye and were making our way to his car. Sitting down and watching the house as Harry reversed out of the parking spot, I thought about what a lovely night it’s been. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself and this one party will forever be the reason I won’t ever regret fake dating Harry Styles. His mum made it all worth it when he didn’t.

«Would you like to come to mine for a drink before heading home? It’s still quite early for a Saturday, innit?» Harry didn’t come off as nervous or scared to ask me to join him at his place before sending me home. There was no way I could deny his request as I’d finally get to see the flat he resides in and I’ve imagined for two years.

It only took us around ten minutes to get to his flat, shocked to see that it isn’t as far from mine as I thought. He’s got enough money to live in a nicer area, but this definitely has charm to it and maybe that’s why he wants to live here.

The flat itself was victorian but with a modern upgrade. A luxurious kitchen with all the appliances one could need, a lovely island serving as his dining table that led into the living room. I wanted to jump onto the couch and lay there for eternity by only looking at how soft and comfortable it seems. The rather large L-shaped couch took up most of the room, but he’d made sure to have enough space for tall, wide bookshelves filled with anything but books behind it.

Don’t get me started on the dark wood flooring that looked as original as it could get. They brought character to the flat and blended the old victorian feel in nicely with the more modern look of the walls and kitchen. I’d love to have a place like this someday.

«You can sit down and I’ll grab a bottle of wine, sound alright?» Harry hung his suit jacket that he hadn’t worn at all on one of the chairs lined by the island counter. He moved into the corner of the kitchen where I couldn’t see him any longer as I stepped off my shoes before tiptoeing to the couch falling down into it. I was right about it being soft and comfortable. It was as if I was being lulled to sleep all I needed was a light blanket tucking me in and I’d be set for a good night's sleep.

Harry chuckled when he came out from the kitchen, a bottle of red in one hand and two glasses in the other, to see me cuddling into his couch. I don’t know what he does in his free time or if he usually has girls around his flat and this is a normal view for him, but right now I didn’t care. He was giving me wine and a comfy place to sit which honestly is enough for now. I don’t want to scare him away by talking about my feelings for him past midnight, half drunk after all the drinks I’d already had tonight.

Chatting to Harry was a breeze. We giggled before getting serious and then struggling to breath as we laughed harder than ever before. It felt light and good, like we were the best of friends and for a moment I thought I could live with that. As long as I got to continue having moments like these with him, I could deal with only being friends. Then I had another glass of wine and decided that I couldn’t bear him not knowing how I feel for one more second.

«Harry.. we can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to the people involved, and it’s absolutely not fair to us.» My eyes were watching my finger trailing the pattern of one of his pillows I was holding in my lap. There was no foreshadowing to tell Harry that I would bring this up and I could tell he wasn’t ready for it by the sharp intake of breath that could be heard from him.

«I’ve thought about it recently and obviously we both knew this couldn’t last forever. I’ve grown a lot the past two years and I know what I want now. A fake relationship isn’t it, no matter how much I adore your family.» I could feel my throat burning as I tried to keep my tears at bay. The last thing I wanted to sit in front of him crying my eyes out. Still not daring to let my eyes reach his, I closed my eyes as I continued talking.

«The first year was awful. You weren’t nice to me and after doing you a huge fucking favour, which I still don’t know why you needed a fake girlfriend, you were still treating me just like how you did the first time we met. Then after your sisters wedding, it started getting better and by winter we were good friends. Something shifted in us, in me at least that night and I can’t overlook it anymore. It’s fine if this is it for us, ‘cause I can’t lie to your family anymore, but I need you to know one thing before I leave.» It felt so good telling him how I’d felt for so long, only one last thing to tell him.

Pushing myself to look up at him, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. I couldn’t hold back the tears. He looked so vulnerable though he wasn’t the one holding his breath with a heavy heart trying to tell someone they have stronger feelings for them than might be reciprocated. He looked worried seeing me cry, but didn’t do anything knowing I didn’t want a hand to hold or a hug at this moment.

«I realized tonight that the night we first went out for dinner to take that picture for your parents was also the first time I understood my feelings towards you. It’s fucking insane that even after a year of basically hating your company, three months of us being friends was all it took for me to get feelings for you. I don’t want a fake relationship and I don’t want to be just your friend. I’m not going to say I’m sorry if this ruins things completely between us because I’m finally being true to myself and to you.»

Harry looked as if someone had just punched him in the face. His mouth was hanging open, jaw slack, eyes wide filled with curiosity. I had never let myself take in his gorgeous face completely. It’d only do me more pain than pleasure. Now though, I’m taking in every single detail I can before he either tells me to please leave or throw me out.

I removed my eyes from his face when his phone made a noise telling him someone sent a text message. It being close to one thirty in the morning made me incredibly curious as to who could be texting him now.

He apparently took his time to read it instead of responding to me as it was dead silent for another minute or so. Maybe he was replying or it was a really long fucking text.

Letting out a long sigh he dropped his phone back down on the table. It seemed he wasn’t quite sure what to do or say with how he dragged his hands over his face before standing up only to sit back down again five seconds later.

«Mum wants you to know that she loves you and thanks you for being with me, not just today but in general. This is how it’s been for the last two years for me, y/n. My family adores the shit out of you and I get at least two texts a day from mum asking how you’re doing and when she’ll see you next. It’s always y/n this and y/n that. You’ve invaded everyone’s minds and they’re obsessed with you.» Though it was nice hearing how much of an impact I’ve made, it almost made me more sad than happy. A couple more tears fell as I listened to him go on.

«The first year I tried so fucking hard to make you want to end it. Every time I asked you to come with me I hoped you’d say no and end it just so I could get you out of my head. You invaded my mind just like you did everyone elses and I couldn’t fucking bear it knowing we weren’t a real couple. After that kiss at the wedding I couldn’t keep my act together. It was excruciating being mean to you so I tried being your friend. I still to this day don’t know which was worse, being closed off or close to you.» Harry took one last breath before moving slightly so that he could reach over to hold my hands in his. This isn’t what I had expected and I still don’t want to get my hopes up.

«I want what my sisters have, what my parents have. I’ve wanted that so badly that I began thinking it wouldn’t happen as I’m 28 and still haven’t had one long-lasting relationship. I’d started to believe that it wasn’t in the cards for me - having a wife and a family. Then you came around and I these two years have showed me how fucking perfect you are and how you deserve so much better than me. But I’m a selfish man and I want you, y/n. Want you so much.» Not being able to keep away longer, I swiftly closed the gap between us, slotting my lips with his as I moved to straddle his waist.

It felt unbelievably good to kiss him like this, passion and lust clear as day as our tongues met for the first time. He wants me. I couldn’t stop saying the three words in my head as I let go to catch my breath. How in the world could I be so lucky to be wanted by the man I want?

I laughed as I wiped at my cheeks, removing the tear stains as well as I could without a wet washcloth to clean them off. Harry guided his lips from my jaw up to my cheek ending with a kiss to my shut eyelid. I had never experienced Harry being this soft and attentive, but it was all the more to look forward to.

«Maybe we can turn the fake relationship into a real one and not tell my whole family about it?» There was a cheeky smile playing on his lips as I let out another laugh. If this is what I have to look forward to - jokes, laugher and passionate kisses possibly leading to something more - then I couldn’t wait.

«Of course, Harry. And tell your mum I love her back and give her my number, will you? I’m still looking for a tour of their house after two years of you not giving me one.»

[imaginesfora3]

It’s About the Pining [Kazunari Miyoshi]

A/N: A commission I did for a lovely person who doesn’t mind if I post them to the blog now. If you’d like to commission me please message me over tumblr and I’ll happily give you my email so we can discuss details! 

There was something wrong with Kazunari.

No matter how hard he tried to brush it off, no matter how much he avoided your gaze or made an excuse for having to help another Summer Troupe member with something to get out of the same room as you, you could feel it. The two of you had been close since you’d become the director of the Mankai company and you’d never had him act so coldly before, as if he couldn’t bear to be around you longer than three seconds, and it was beginning to affect his acting. He’d fumble his lines, forget words, Tenma looked ready to strangle him before you’d finally called off practice for the night. You noted the depressed look on Kazunari’s face at being the reason things had fallen apart that night at practice and you thought twice about following him, knowing you might be the cause of his distracted behavior, but decided it was for the best to squash the situation before it got too awful.

Kazunari was struggling.

It’s not as though he hadn’t had crushes before, there were plenty of others that made him feel this sudden surge of excitement when he was around them, that made his heart race and made his cheeks grow hot with just one look. But you were all of that and more. Being around you made him feel at peace, it made him feel like he could be himself without worrying you’d reject the real him. As his precious director he hadn’t wanted to put you in an awkward position by trying to date you but now these feelings had gotten to be so unbearable, weighing heavily on him at night as he got sick at the thought of another person stealing you away from him. But what could he really do to get his feelings across from you?

He remembered the one night where he’d invited you to a mixer with him, to which you begrudgingly agreed; you seemed a bit lost at first, unable to start conversations, but once one of the others noticed your interest in something and asked you about it, sparks flew from there. He’d never felt quite so bitter, the night seeming to drag on now as he was no longer excited to be here. He’d thought the two of you would be able to talk more, that he’d charm the pants off of you and you’d start seeing him as more than just a member of the company, but if anything he’d just ruined his own chances by introducing you to people who seemed to be a better fit. What kind of stupid idea was this?

“Haha, that was fun, wasn’t it?” He lied through his teeth after the painful night had finally ended, looking at you and trying to at least appreciate how beautiful you looked even when you were dressed in casual wear.

“It wasn’t too bad, thanks for inviting me!” Your friendly smile is like an arrow right to his heart and he can’t help but shoot you a genuine smile, glad that at least you had a good time. “I know you haven’t been going out as much as you used to so I’m glad you still get the chance to every once in a while. It’s good to get out of your room and think about stuff other than acting!”

Kazunari had been pleased you’d noticed that he was making an effort to put up a more mature front, one that said ‘I’m a suitable partner and not just flirtatious punk!’ but he feels like you’re still not taking him seriously enough. You laugh off any implications that he has true feelings for you, you rolled your eyes playfully when he told he wanted to take you on a totally romantic date, and any time he implied you’d be the ideal significant other you simply told him to stop buttering you up. He knows he’s to blame for you not taking him seriously, his earlier years with the company had taken place when he was still finding himself, figuring out what he wanted from life and latching onto the things that gave him immediate gratification rather than playing the long game for something much more gratifying.

That night is what Kazunari is remembering when you stop him in the hall, placing a hand on his shoulder and tilting your head in confusion when he jumps like you’d just electrocuted him.

“Are you alright, Kazu? You’re distracted lately and I need to know if it’s something I can help with.”

You could help in more ways than one, he thinks to himself, you could help by not just recognizing his feelings but returning them, too. You could realize that you were his muse, evidenced by the countless sketches of you in his notebook that he had; they were you doing a range of activities from gaming to simply sitting around reading a book. You had a beauty so striking that he couldn’t help but be inspired the moment he caught sight of you, his hand twitching as he immediately go to work. He’d made it a habit to carry around his sketchbook with him, considering buying a separate one as he didn’t want anyone to stumble upon the one that was practically just inspired by you, but he felt that might be a step too far into the creepy zone.

“Sorry, I’ll try to do better!” His fake smile is something you easily see past and you wished you could shake some sense into him, pouting and crossing your arms as you waited for a real answer. “I’m just… Thinking about my birthday! Yeah! I didn’t know if I wanted to go out to celebrate this year or not.”

“The others are really looking forward to buying you a drink for your 20th… I am, too,” Your sad smile is like a brick on his chest, “But it’s your birthday. If it’s not what you want, I can let the others know.”

“N-No! No, I’m fine with it. But since it’s my birthday, you’ll sit next to me, right? I don’t ever get you all to myself~” Kazunari leaned closer, pleased when you don’t pull away despite being so close, “Could that be my birthday present instead?”

“…Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Kazunari let out a deep sigh, giving you another strained smile before he wished you goodnight; this was just another instance of you not taking him seriously! How much clearer could he get, aside from blatantly telling you he was in love with you, that he wanted to be with you?! In a romantic sense, where the two of you could do cute things together and he could look at you lovingly saying ‘all mine’ and you’d nod to confirm you were, indeed, all his. His poor heart couldn’t take this much longer and he threw himself onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow and letting out a deep, discontented groan before he finally relaxed enough to fall asleep.

At least you were his in his dreams.

His birthday was the best night of his life.

He’d tried to push off any depressed feelings he had from his unsuccessful advances on you to simply enjoy the time he had with his friends, which included you, as everyone gave him the little gifts they’d bought or made themselves. He’s feeling even more hyped up as he’s walking with everyone to the restaurant that night, chattering away about all the plans he had now that he was a true blue adult with nothing holding him back! Every once in a blue moon his eyes would drift over to you unprompted, briefly looking you up and down before he returns to the conversation he had been engaged in; this doesn’t go unnoticed by you, quietly wondering if there was still something off between the two of you but figuring his birthday party wasn’t the time or place to bring it up.

The evening goes just as you predicted it would.

There’s plenty of laughter and jokes, Kazunari getting drinks bought for him from just about every member of the company. Tsumugi tries to keep him eating to soak in the alcohol, not wanting the young man to be totally blasted, but in a not very shocking turn of events Kazunari continues to spiral downwards. By the end of the night everyone’s got a nice buzz going for them while Kazunari can barely walk straight, only wanting you to help hold him up; Tasuku was on the other side of him bearing most of his weight but Kazunari refused to unlatch from your arm, excitedly talking about all the things he wanted to do as he got older and all the places he’d love to vacation to with you. You’re a little embarrassed at how blatantly affectionate he’s being and, even if he’d been the same way towards you before, something feels different with the far more direct approach drunk Kazunari is taking.

You don’t know how you convinced Kazunari to make his way to bed, Tasuku once again asking if you need him to take over for you; figuring you could handle Kazunari, and hearing said birthday boys complaints that he wanted you to be the one to tuck him in at night, you decided it was far easier to just handle it yourself. Most of the others had seen themselves off to bed or had gone home for the weekend, Muku’s bed thankfully empty as he surely would’ve been awoken by Kazunari’s giggling.

“I’ve got something super important to tell you~”

“I’m sure you do but you need to sleep now.”

“But it’s super important, don’t you wanna know? Totes top secret, just between the two of us!”

“Kazunari…”

“I love you.”

There’s a piercing silence that fills the room as his brows furrowed, as though he hadn’t meant to say that out loud despite his previous teasing. Every single insecurity he’d ever felt about your relationship, about how you viewed him, popped up again, completely undoing all the confidence the alcohol had filled him with.

“You’re really drunk right now, Kazunari.” You tried to get him settled but his intense stare is still burning into you, his words making your heart flutter in your chest; you don’t remember the last time you’d heard those words from someone who wasn’t a family member or a fan, and coming from him… You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel, but you couldn’t say it was an entirely negative. But wouldn’t that be complicated? To date one of the members of the company you managed?

“I’m not drunk, you’re just really blurry! And it’s how I feel. You never believe me… How can I make you believe me?” Kazunari pouted, leaning against you further and sending you stumbling into the wall. He’s quick to catch himself though it still ends with the two of you pressed closely together, breath hitching as your eyes meet with his. “You’re so beautiful.”

“We can talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober.” Your reply was definitive, sobering him enough as he did the climb of shame into his bed. You left without another word, mind swimming with all sorts of thoughts and anxieties while Kazunari’s did the same.

Morning didn’t bring him any peace.

Kazunari spent at least an hour that morning staring up at the ceiling, hating his life, wishing more than anything he could take back what he said to you last night. It felt like he was being stabbed in his heart and his head, over and over, no mercy being granted to him. He considered spending the rest of the day in bed feigning a serious illness but his stomach dropped at the thought of you being concerned over his well-being so he decided against it, finally dragging himself out of his room and down to the kitchen where you were waiting.

And you were alone.

When you glanced up from your plate to meet him he felt that same painful tinge in his heart, averting his eyes as he remembered almost perfectly the look on your face when he’d confessed to you. He wouldn’t blame you for not taking him seriously, for thinking he was just being his normal, flirtatious self, but he couldn’t have been more serious. Every day that passed he fell more and more in love with you and it was killing him inside now that he thought he’d ruined all that you had together. Kazunari’s heart ached and he wanted to apologize but he felt bringing it up would be even more awkward.

“Can we talk about last night?”

So much for avoiding that problem.

“Uh, haha, yeah, about that… I’m really sorry for saying all of that. I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t real?” You asked softly, head tilting to the side, Kazunari’s breath catching in his throat. How did you manage to be so effortlessly beautiful? His poor heart couldn’t take it.

“…It was real.”

“So you will give me a chance to prove myself?”

“Yes,” You smiled at the eager look on his face, “I’ll go on a date with you Kazunari. And why don’t you let me give you a present that I didn’t have the chance to give you last night.”

His entire body froze as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, a moment that he couldn’t believe was actually happening. He’d pictured how he’d feel, how soft your lips would be, how wonderful and vindicating it would truly be when he finally got the girl. And now that it was happening he was terrified, terrified one small move would puncture the perfect little fantasy bubble he was in and his happiness would explode around him. Yet it was real, you were real, standing in front of him, kissing him, agreeing to go on a date with him.

Kazunari had never been happier.

He’d prove to you that he was a great partner.

One day at a time.

[sons-of-the-morning-star]

I've put this off long enough

This is Chapter/Episode 2 of Sons of The Morning Star: Habilitation

It is a very nice morning in the Wagner-Thorn-Langdon-Kline-Young house, FROM THE OUTSIDE, AT LEAST.

Inside, emotional tensions are high, with Michael and Lucius having another glare down, Jack struggling to get Dog to let go of a plate, and Damien struggling to get Adam out of his room. It has been less than a week, and the news don't know about the future Senator's new home life.

Yet.

Damien gives another knock on Adam's door, trying his damndest to not lose his mind.

"Adam, come on. We're about to eat breakfast, the food's gonna get cold, and you need to eat. GET. UP."

"I'll eat later," Adam calls from on his bed, though if this was an actual TV show, we'd only see Damien at the door. "Leave me alone."

Damien groans, "Fine." With a twitchy eye, he joins the others for breakfast.

Michael and Lucius avoid each other as best as they can while Jack smiles at Damien, successful at getting his plate back.

"Still no luck with him. He won't come out."

"Let him starve, then," Michael scoffs. "Maybe Crowley and Azriel can come pick him up and adopt him."

"Aziraphale," Jack corrects.

"Whatever."

Jack deflates, but finishes his breakfast and turns to Lucius.

"So anything interesting planned today?"

Lucius writes a message and slides it to Jack. 'Just a couple meetings. Nothing special.'

"Well, you'll always have us to call, if you get bored. And Damien."

Lucius groans as Damien grabs his things.

"Okay, I'm heading out. Michael, Jack, please don't kill each other and make sure Adam eats, got it?"

Both nod, though Jack is more enthusiastic, and Damien turns to Lucius and gives him a one armed hug.

"Have a nice day at work, honey!"

Jack and Michael burst into a fit of laughter as Damien dodges a punch from Lucius and leaves the house.

Lucius leaves soon after, telling the two to keep an eye on Adam and Dog, and to keep the radio on incase they hear anything new.

Michael nods and Jack full on agrees, waving his phone to Lucius and offering again that if he gets bored, he can call.

Lucius leaves and Michael gets up and grabs his coat.

"Where are you going? We're supposed to stay here and keep an ear out for any news."

"Lucius is not our father."

"He is now. And Damien," Jack states matter-of-factly.

"Neither of them are here. And what will you do to stop me from leaving? Flood the continent? Cause a plague? Start a world wide famine?"

When Jack doesn't have answer, Michael smirks and leaves.

If this was a TV episode, the camera would follow and face Michael as he leaves the house and revels in his small victory, and would show that the window to Adam's room is opened, something for astute viewers to notice.

CUT TO LUCIUS!

Lucius is having a time of it as he can barely concentrate, but still tries to listen.

It TOTALLY has to do with the fact he is now a father.

One of his campaigning partners is talking about people's sightings of people with wings and graffiti of pentecosts(THAT'S the evil, devil, Satan symbol, not a pentagram. A pentagram, the avatar/profile pic for this Tumblr, is a wiccan, pagan symbol for protection) on court houses and churches, when his phone rings.

He puts it on silent, and shows himself doing it, but he still gets phone calls.

His 'staff' tell him it's okay, and he opens a FaceTime-esque call from- guess. Just guess.

"Lucius? Is that you? Can you hear me?"

Lucius nods as he fights the growing urge to smash his cellphone on the ground.

"Michael left. He told me not to bother telling you, but I am anyway because he's not listening at all."

"Mr. Wagner, who is that?" One of his campaign advisers asks.

Before Lucius can hang up, Jack shouts out, "Who are you talking to? Are you working? CAN I SEE!?"

More advisers speak up and Lucius cringes as he turns his phone and reveals Jack, who's covered in flour and chocolate and some peanut butter; a surprise for Lucius when he gets home.

"Who are you?"

"Jack Kline," Jack replies. "Lucius adopted me and the rest of our broth-"

Lucius hangs up, turns off his phone, and tosses it on to a near by table with coffee and refreshments on it.

'What were you saying about all the vandalism recently?'

His staff, however, isn't listening, now more eager on the fact that Lucius has adopted someone, or multiple people, and taken them into his care.

"Mr. Wagner, what if we show the public you're caring these orphans? Your brothers? We have heard complaints lately that you're coming off as an 'iron fist' sort of guy."

Lucius is literally speechless, groaning into his hands as they pitch more ideas, even noting that if he stops the vandalisms and shows his 'soft' side to the public, he'll get more supporters.

CUT TO DAMIEN!

On the topic of these vandalisms, Damien has to take pictures of the symbols for the newspapers and online articles, noting that he could draw some better than what the 'artists' have done.

One in particular makes him freeze, and makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end:

A message written in white paint and surrounded by crosses and with what looks like blood underlining the letters. Beneath it is a bowl, a really large bowl, of water:

God help the sons of the devil. Save them from damnation, or let them battle for eternity.

It unsettles him, to say the least, and he goes to wash it off with the water.

ONLY TO BURN HIMSELF AS HIS FINGERS DIP INTO THE BOWL.

Yes. Someone put HOLY WATER under this message.

Damien resolves to simply take a picture, with his phone not his camera, and leave, running into Michael.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be home watching Adam and Jack!"

"Sorry, Brother dearest, I don't really HAVE to listen to you."

"If I get home and the house is in ashes-"

"Relax," Michael shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Knowing Jack, he probably doesn't even know how to blink."

He chuckles, but stops as he passes by the creepy, holy water message, not looking at it, but feeling the holy water and the crosses.

And the blood, which he inspects, and finds is from a lamb.

It goes from bad to worse when they notice a pair of men striding toward them.

Damien leads Michael away, warning him, "Ignore them. Hopefully they just walk away."

Neither do, even when the two begin walking faster.

When the two males start gaining, and when one unsheathes a flaming dagger, the brothers make a run for it, but the men give chase.

"What the hell is they're problem!?" Michael snarks, "Why are they following us!?"

"Just keep running!" Damien barks back.

They round a corner, and Michael throws a ball of fire, hitting the unarmed male in the arm, the fire making him howl more than the average person.

The armed male, however, manages a slash across Michael's chest, just enough to leave him heavily wounded.

With Michael now useless, Damien slings him over his shoulders and races for a store full of people, using some telekinesis to throw a stream of water in a foutain to throw off the armed man pursuing them.

He stops when everyone is staring, the man, who I'm aure you've realized by now is an angel, stands in place, unaware of what to do.

"Go 'head," Damien eggs on. "Do it. You can kill us, but wanna try doing it infront of everyone here!?"

The angel eyes all the people, who are whispering and have their phones out, before glaring at Damien and a now standing Michael, sheathing his dagger, and storming away, miracling around a corner to avoid detection.

Both breathe a sigh of relief as they take a seat.

"Any idea on what just happened?"

Michael huffs and rubs some hair out of his face. "Take a guess. Why do Crowley and Aziraphale want was to stay together?"

TV perspective time as the camera zooms in on Damien, who looks over at the wall the angel vanished behind and then down at his feet.

With growing dread music, CUT TO JACK!!!!

Jack is humming as he takes out a tray of chocolate chip cookies, where we that he's also baked 'Welcome Home' cakes, pies, cupcakes, and just about anything else he can think of; don't worry, he made sure to keep the kitchen spotless.

He sets the cookies on the stovetop to cool and admires all the pastries, which makes Aziraphale applaud; he decided to pay Jack a visit because he's the most pleasant, and is closest with Adam.

Speaking of whom, Jack notices the time and calls out to him.

"Hey, Adam! You getting hungry?" He knocks on Adam's bedroom door, ever the good big brother. "I can make you a sandwich, if you want. Grilled cheese, PB and J, bacon-lettuce-tomatoe, even a breakfast sand..."

Jack opens Adam's door to find there's no Adam or Dog in sight and the window is wide open.

CUT TO LUCIUS, who's screaming into a bathroom sink full of water because his campaign officers won't shut up about painting him in a good light to appeal to people's emotions.

He pulls his face out of the water and dries off, growling on frustration when he gets a call from Jack(possibly the hundredth call that day).

This time, when Lucius answers, he sees Jack running with Aziraphale beside him.

"Lucius, hi! How's your day? Great! We're fine! I don't know where Adam is, so Aziraphale and I are looking for him!"

It hits Lucius like a ton of bricks as he writes, 'I thought he was in his room!?'

"So did we, dear boy," Aziraphale replies. "However, he must have left while no one was looking!"

Lucius starts to wonder why no one's kept an eye on him, until he realizes who ALSO left the house and hangs up on Jack, who objects to the action, to call Michael.

CUT TO MICHAEL AND DAMIEN! The two are having lunch in the food court of the mall to shake off the adrenaline of being chased by killer angels, when Lucius calls.

Michael, reluctantly, answers and waves at him, not talking because his mouth is full.

'YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WATCH ADAM AND JACK! WHY DID YOU LEAVE!?'

"Calm down, Lucius," Damien groans. "In case you haven't noticed, we've been having a bad day, too."

'Where are you!?'

"Having lunch at a crowded mall because we got attacked by angels."

Lucius furrows his brow in confusion and Damien sends the picture of the creepy graffiti he found.

"Saw it while I was working on an article. Guess we're not as evasive as we thought."

As Lucius inspects it, Michael explains, "The red is lamb's blood, and there's holy water in the bowl. I think someone or something doesn't want us around."

Lucius shakes his head and writes/sends/signs, 'Do either of you know where Adam is? Jack said he ran away.'

"And where's Jack?"

'Looking for him with Aziraphale.'

"So now Jack AND Adam are gone?" Michael gapes.

All three jump out of their skin when Crowley shouts, "WHAT!?" and throws open the bathroom door.

Michael hisses out of emotional-esque pain and Damien groans into his hands as Crowley takes the phone from Lucius and gets really close to it.

"Where are those two right now!?"

"Like we just said, we don't know," Damien replies. "Adam ran away with Dog, so Jack and Aziraphale are going-"

"AZIRAPHALE'S OUT THERE, TOO!?"

Crowley drops the phone on the floor, something we see from Michael's and Damien's perspective, as he shouts, "Hold on, angel, I'm coming!"

With Lucius, the Wagner senator picks up his phone and gulps as he puts all the pieces together:

The message sent by Damien was written by angels, who know that all five brothers are on Earth, and are now planning to wipe them off the face of the planet, whether because of the grand plan or because each can cause the apocalypse, or because Jack and Adam fucked up bringing the apocalypse.

Eother way, he writes to Damien and Michael to, 'FIND THEM NOW.' and hangs up before he sprints out of the bathroom and out of the building, telling his lead secretary to cancel every single one of his plans because of a family emergency.

Now, I lnow what you're wondering, "Where's Adam right now? Did Gabriel get to him first?"

No, silly goose, he's fine.

Adam is walking through the streets with dog at his side, growling at anyone that gets too close. He's been crying for a while, but has stopped now because he just wants to walk and not think about London, which is hard because it's everyone's favorite subject at the moment.

He also wants to get away from his new brothers for a little while. In his mind:

Lucius is not around at all, and when he is, he's kimd of creepy with the whole "not talking" thing.

Damien's too pushy and doesn't give him space to be emotional or get used to his new environment.

Michael's just an asshole- not his words, but true all the same.

And... well, there's no real complaint with Jack. He's okay.

But not even Jack's good nature can change Adam's opinions on the rest of his new brothers.

It doesn't help that Aziraphale and Crowley can't just adopt him, either, because they don't know how his powers fully work, hence why they gave him to the other four.

Too lost in his head, Adam does not notice a trying-not-to-be-angry Gabriel walk up to him from behind, hiding a bottle of holy water as he says, "Hello, Adam."

Adam turns and pales. "Gabriel!? What are you doing here!?"

"I just wanted to check on you. See if you were ready try again with armageddon, all things considered."

Adam backs away, now very disturbed. "Stay away from me," he stammers.

Thank goodness Dog is more observant and bites the bastard, which gets Adam to focus and makes him realize NOW is a good time to run like hell.

He smacks Gabriel with his backpack and flees with Dog following. Gabriel is behind as he clutches his hand before giving chase, cursing that he can't miracle to Adam, that power being taken away from him since his 'falling out,' so he's left to run to chase after Adam, which draws a lot of negative attention, I must say.

Doesn't matter, though, because Adam is simultaneously loosing Gabriel and seeing that he's gaining on him.

That's when a hand grabs his arm and pulls him into a nearby store, throwing him behind a shelf of souvenirs, i.e. knickknacks and plushies, and a rack of keychains.

Gabriel looks through the window and bamgs his forehead against it before leaving, scowling as he trudges away.

Adam watches him as the male that pulled him whistles at the pouting angel.

"I knew Gabriel was always too eager to wear his big boy pants. Glad to see he hasn't changed. Evn though I knew he wouldn't."

Adam looks up at him, a sort of short, kind of stumpy man that looks kind of like if Aziraphale had actually taken being an archangel seriously; culry hair that's a dirty blond-ish, brown, alert eyes that see nothing and everything all at once, dark, sharp clothes, and a know-it-all smirk as he holds a hand out for Adam.

If you watched the show Lucifer on Netflix, you know EXACTLY who this guy is.

Dog doesn't growl at this guy, sensing that he's not going to hurt them.

"Sorry to scare you like that, Adam. I'm your uncle, but please just call me Uriel."

Adam lets Uriel help him up, now really confused.

"How do you know my name?"

"Father's talked a lot about you and your brothers, and I just wanted to see you myself. See just how busy my brother got while he visited this planet." Uriel looks out the window and fights a smirk. "Speaking of brother..."

Cue Jack and Aziraphale racing down the sidewalk as fast as they can before Jack spots Adam and sprints into the store with Aziraphale on his tail. Both are tired, both are a litttle sweaty, but they're so happy to see Adam is okay.

"Adam, there we are!" Jack cries as he and Adam hug and Jack spins him as they do. "We were so worried! I didn't hear you in your room, I'm so sorry!"

Aziraphale lants and simply gives a wave before pushing both boys behind him.

"Uriel."

"Aziraphale. Nice to see you."

The two have a stare down before Aziraphale asks, "Are you going to lead us to a trap or some kind? You know as well as I do there isn't any sort of plan to-"

"Don't talk to me about plans, Aziraphale. I'm the guy who actually MAKES them."

It silences Aziraphale and the brotjers a little on edge.

"Anyway, your brothers will be walking aroumd the corner a block away in about five minutes in the same direction you and Aziraphale were running down. Better get going."

Jack nods and thanks Uriel, leading Adam down the street.

Aziraphale eyes Uriel for a little bit before following the boys, to keep them safe.

Uriel's power holds true as the three meet Damien and Michael.

They all catch each other up as they walk to try and catch a bus.

There are angels in the city and a lot of them don't want the brothers around.

"But Uriel helped me hide from Gabriel. I don't think he wants to hurt us," Adam wonders.

Cue some major confusion from Jack and Michael not wanting to deal with all this because, "We've already got London and the Southwest to worry about. We don't need a bounty on our heads."

The brothers don't have time to think on it because every parent's worst nightmare happens when an angel strides up behind them and throws something down, maybe a holy water bottle and powdered salt to make the brothers back away before flying off with Adam.

The only one to see it happen is Aziraphale and Dog barks at the sky where his master was taken.

The brothers compose themselves and are silent as they realize what's happened.

Not all is lost as Michael gets a text from Crowley on his phone: an address to an old church that was closed down because of poor funding and evrn worse staff that didn't practice what they preached.

Transition from a taxi cab to A few minutes ago and a jet black car SPEEDING down the street fast enough to make Crowley proud, which he is, as Lucius gets filled in on the situation by Damien.

He's actually heading to what could be a very solid guess to where the angel has taken Adam, and Crowley shouts at him to, "Step on it!" when Aziraphale brings up Gabriel and Uriel.

Funny he brings up Uriel, because Lucius has been following him wherever he appears, the archangel having told him about finding Adam and that Lucius needs to trust him to keep Adam safe.

They wind up at an abandoned church, which Crowley hisses at and makes Lucius gag from the sudden nausea, and the senator steps out, gesturing for Crowley to wait in the car.

"Be careful in there."

Lucius gives a thumbs up and leaves, though, TV perspective, the camera would linger on Crowley as he notices a car approach through the rear view mirror.

CUT to Lucius carefully walking up to the church doors as he forces back coughs and gags as he tries opening the door. Key word is tries because it's locked, though he does here someone complaining about how, "The brat has sharp teeth," and, "He won't stop kicking."

To which Gabriel replies, "Just hold him down and keep him quiet."

Stealth time as Lucius ditches the door and walks to the side of the church and climbs up a pipe to reach a window, damn near falling to his death as the pipe gives and falls and leaving him to grab onto and dangle from the leadge of the window as two angels come to inspect.

Lucius scrambles inside and just barley avoids getting caught as he hides against the wall, having a clear view of the inside of the church.

Two angels are working on a salt and lamb's blood symbol much like the one Aziraphale made, the one that sent him to Heavan on accident, as a third angel holds onto a struggling Adam and Gabriel supervises.

The two 'scouts' report that they didn't find anything, just a pipe that broke, which Gabriel comments may have been because of a fat raccoon, and even smells the air a little, before turning to Adam.

Lucius sneaks closer as he watches Gabriel take a small amount of blood from Adam and drip it onto the angel symbol, activating it so it can rid Adam of the devil inside him, aka remove his soul, aka kill him.

LUCIUS IS HAVING NONE OF THAT.

He shakes his head and leaps off the upper level he's been hiding on, landing directly ontop of Gabriel, who throws him off and onto the ground

Lucius wheezes as he sees the abundance of crosses around them and a large bowl if holy water, one that used to be used for baptizing children. He also sees Gabriel dip his fingers into it before kneeling down to get a better look at this new demon that arrived univited.

"Lucius Wagner. I thought I smelled smoke." He flicks his fingers at Lucius, who hisses at the holy water as it touches his skin. "You're oddly more... pleasant to look at than I thought you would be. Then again, evil has a way of looking good, doesn't it?"

Lucuis smirks and signs to him, 'No wonder Heaven doesn't want you either, then.'

Gabriel smacks him for this and checks to see if the symbol is done, which it is, so he orders the three free angels to scout around the church, so no one else interrupts the brothers being exorcised.

Too bad the three can't seem to get the door open, even though they're the ones who locked it.

When the door doesn't budge, Gabriel and the other angels join, leaving Lucius and Adam unguarded, the former crawling towards the bowl of holy water as Adam scooches away from the angel symbol as much as he can, even toward the bowl as well, despite the blistering he feels all over.

Cut to Gabriel trying to open the door and suddenly feeling a little weak as he tries breaking the door, wondering what's going on.

CUT TO OUTSIDE AS AZIRAPHALE AND A SNICKERING URIEL HOLD THE DOOR, HAVING MIRACLED AHEAD OF DAMIEN AND JACK, AS MICHAEL REJOINS THEM, SAYING HE WILL NOT BE PLAYING SANTA CLAUS AGAIN ANYTIME SOON!!!😁

Cut back to inside the church, where Lucius pulls a cross down on the alter and starts getting a little more strength back before he picks up Adam.

Two fallen crosses will have to be enough to allow him some strength as he holds Adam and kicks the bowl of holy water, which washes away the angel symbol and seeps away through the floor boards.

Gabriel sees and hear this and shouts, "No!"

Lucius switches his grip on his brother as he holds up a flaming hand, glaring at the angels.

They retaliate by snagging crosses and charging forward.

Too bad Lucius is good at thinking on his toes and fans some fire out to the back wall behind the alter, which is lined with tapestry and wood.

The flames catch at rise, scaring away the angels and a scowling Gabriel, who has a glare down with Lucius as he carries an unbound Adam in both arms.

Cut to outside as the fire grows. News reporters, police officers, and our squad are outside as firefighters rush in.

Jack is racing between people to get a better look at the tragedy and then holds his hands out before Damien stops him.

"Relax, they're going to be okay."

"But how do you-"

The firefighters race out with an unconscious Gabriel and a coughing, hunched over Lucius, who's still holding Adam. All three are covered in soot and everyone notices that Adam and Lucius are a little injured, but Gabriel is unharmed.

When news reporters crowd Lucius, who is seated in an ambulance and given a shock blanket as he refuses to have Adam taken out of his arms, they start asking the basic and REAL questions:

"Mr. Wagner, were you attacked just now?"

"Did you jump into a burning building to save this boy?"

"Do you know the man that attacked you?"

"Who is the boy you saved?"

"Is it true you adopted three boys into your care?"

"Are you in any ki d of relationship at the moment?"

Before Lucius can answer, Jack plows through with Michael and Damien in toe, Jack hugging a now conscious Adam and Lucius and apologizing for not being a good brother.

Also cue Dog jumping up and kissing Adam and even Lucius.

The press gets a lot of pictures of this, and Damien hugging Lucius, calling him, "snuggle-bug" as he hugs him.

The police see Lucius giving the, 'I'm done, make them stop' signal, and start pushing everyone away, telling them he'd like time alone with his family.

But not after one more question:

"Mr. Wagner, is this your family?"

Lucius nods with a smile, nodding at Jack, Damien, Michael, and Adam.

He also types on his phone to them all, 'No more running away, okay?'

They all agree.

The "episode" ends with Gabriel being locked up in a jail cell for araon and assaulting a politician and a minor and the brothers returning home from the hospital after Lucius and Adam are checked out at the hospital.

There they see all the desserts in a spotless kitchen, surprising Michael and making Lucius start warming up to having a family.

[qrovidcore]

hey what’s up tumblr i’ve now seen hbo’s watchmen all the way through Three Fucking Times and i very well may go for a fourth if given an excuse whoops and apparently i can’t stop thinking about Laurie’s joke in She Was Killed By Space Junk, no i’m not the first person to analyze this and i’m sure i won’t be the last but i sure do have some Thoughts^TM,  so here’s some meta let’s go.

major spoilers ahead for the entire series:

Hey, it’s me again. I’ve got a joke. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. There’s this guy, he’s a bricklayer. He’s really good at it. He’s a real master of his craft. Because he’s precise. Every brick has its place. Anyway this guy has a daughter and he’s gonna teach her to be a bricklayer because after all, all a man has is his legacy. So dad decides to build a barbecue in the backyard. He does the math. He figures out exactly what he needs and he shows the daughter how to do everything. Step by step. And when he finishes, it’s a beauty. It’s a perfect barbecue. Just the way he drew it in blueprints. Only one problem. There’s a brick left over. One single brick. The guy freaks out. He must have done something wrong. He’s gonna have to start all over again. So he picks up his sledgehammer to knock the thing to pieces and his daughter suddenly says ‘daddy wait! I have an idea.’ She picks up the orphan brick and throws it up into the air as high as she can. And then…shit. Messed it up.

Okay forget that joke. Can I tell you another one?

As I said, I’m not the first to break down that Laurie is referring to specific people who have an influence on the story, there’s plenty of meta posts online that’ll say the same thing. I just think this is a Really Clever way to introduce us to her, to the major players in this story, and to the events from the comic that are going to end up being referenced. Anyhow, the bricklayer here is The Comedian. Laurie’s father. I’ll get back to this and how it connects later, but given that one of Watchmen’s major themes is the concept of legacy - who carries it and how, and what happens when that legacy is painful - this is a neat little hook into that idea. Laurie’s dad’s legacy. What she’s done with it, what she’s going to do with it, how she feels about it. Again, coming back to that.

Okay. Forget the brick. New joke. Three heroes die and they all show up at the pearly gates. God’s there and he’s going to decide what their eternal fate shall be: heaven or hell. Our first hero is dressed up like a big owl. God says to him “I gifted you the ability to make fantastic inventions. What did you do with this amazing talent?” Owl guy says “I made this really awesome flying ship and lots of cool outfits and weapons so I could bring peace to the city.” God asks, “So how many people did you kill?” Owl guy seems offended. He says “Zero. I didn’t take a single life.” God frowns. “Sorry owl guy, your heart’s in the right place but you’re just too soft.” God snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

I'm not super into the comic so it took me a while to get that she's referencing Nite Owl. I think this is strange since he doesn't appear in the show himself, whereas everyone else she talks about does, but I suppose it gives a more rounded-out view of the different approaches to heroism, and what exactly constitutes it, and also ties in another one of the original Minutemen. They did cut this over her arrest of Mr. Shadow in the bank, which makes me wonder about his role and why he appeared, and I still find it strange that this part of the joke wasn't about someone who had more of a presence in the show. (Though that being said, DC making fun of Batman, their own big-ticket character? 10/10 thank you for this).

Where was I? The pearly gates await our next hero in line for Almighty judgment. Our hero number two is confident he can game this out because that’s his God-given talent: smarts. Some might even say he’s the smartest man in the world. “So what did you do with that big brain I gave you?” asks God. “As a matter of fact, I saved humanity, ”says Smarty Pants. “Well how’d you do that,” asks God.” “Well I dropped a giant alien squid on New York and everybody was so afraid of it they stopped being afraid of each other.” “OK,” says God. “How many people did you kill?” Smarty Pants smiles. “Three million, give or take. But you can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs. “Christ,” God says. “You’re a fucking monster.”  “Am not,” says Smarty Pants. God snaps his fingers and our hero goes to hell.

GOD YES PLEASE DRAG OZYMANDIAS. GET THIS FUCKER’S ASS. Though the line that’s sticking out to me here is “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs.” Watchmen’s got an egg motif - and that’s an entire post on its own - and wow this is a place to drop it. I find it interesting that it’s given to Adrien here. Especially since it comes back later, when Will tells Angela that that’s what Jon said in justification of giving his life to stop the 7th K/Cyclops and Trieu. Eggs are used for a lot of things, but this line ties the motif solidly to a value of life here - how Adrien is the way he is because he refuses to value other peoples’, and maybe how Jon is the way he is because, when you can see the future laid out before you and live knowing how you’re going to die, how do you learn to value your own?

Okay. We’re down to the nitty gritty now. One hero left. God cracks his knuckles ready to administer the final reckoning. Now Hero Number 3 is pretty much a god himself. So for the sake of telling them apart, he’s blue and he likes to stroll around with his dick hanging out. He can teleport, he can see into the future, he blows shit up. He’s got actual superpowers. Regular God asks Blue God what have you done with these gifts?” Blue God says “I fell in love with a woman, I walked across the sun, and then I fell in love with another woman. I won the Vietnam War. But mostly I just stopped giving a shit about humanity.” God sighs. “Do I even need to ask how many people you’ve killed?” Blue guy shrugs. “A live body and a dead body have the same number of particles so it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter how I answer your question because I know you’re sending me to hell.” “How do you know that?” asks God. Blue God sounds very sad when he softly says “Because I’m already there.” And so, a mere piston in the inevitable of time and space God does what he did and will do. He snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

And now, we’ve got Jon. Dr. Manhattan. It's a neat moment of insight into his actions, motives, and how those are perceived by others (namely Laurie), and it's a nice thread of introduction to his previous actions to drop for audiences who haven't read the comics (actually, I can make this point about Adrien’s part of the joke too). Especially because most of what we get of Jon in-show is his relationship with Angela, his entire character arc really revolves around her and we don't see him portrayed as the contentious, unfeeling figure the world sees him as. So this sort of contrast between him as a figure and him as a person is very telling, doubly so coming from someone who it's clear knew him. And I really appreciate that there’s just as much stiffness as there is warmth to the Jon we the audience see - he’s kind, he’s loving, but he’s also very matter-of-fact and deterministic, and that bit of characterization really spans the gap between these two versions of him.

And so it’s been a long day at the pearly gates. All the heroes have gone to hell. His work done, God’s packing up to go home and then he notices someone waiting. But it’s not a hero, it’s just a woman. “Where did you come from?” asks God. “Oh I was just standing behind those other guys the whole time, you just didn’t see me.” “Did I give you a talent,” God asks. “No, none to speak of,” says the woman.  God gives her a good long look. “I’m so sorry. I’m embarrassed. Seriously, this almost never happens but I don’t know who you are.” And the woman looks at God and she quietly says “I’m the little girl who threw the brick in the air.” And a sound from above, something falling: the brick. God looks up but it’s too late. He never saw it coming. It hits him so hard, his brains shoot out his nose. Game over. He’s dead. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. 

Into some Thoughts^TM that I haven’t seen anyone theorize yet(?): I think God is meant to be Lady Trieu, and even if Laurie wouldn’t know this yet that’s some brilliant fucking foreshadowing. It's not as exact, but enough parallels are there that I think they're purposeful. It makes Trieu out as the ultimate judge of everyone - and in a way, she is. She sees herself as the most deserving of power of everyone, and it's her who kills Dr. Manhattan - sends him to hell, you could say, and he knows she's going to do it. It also hints at how she's going to die too, crushed by her machine falling from the sky like the brick, because she didn't expect anyone would be capable of stopping her. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. Trieu isn't ultimately above the others, and she's subject to their justice as they are to hers. 

Fitting too that Laurie is involved with the plan to stop Trieu, since, as I said I’d come back to, the girl who threw the brick is Laurie herself. Her depiction of herself in this way is representative, perhaps, of Laure's own feelings on vigilantism and what justice is, and that she's the force that's going to bring down these overblown personalities and their many incorrect uses of their abilities. Given this, it's interesting to think how the "failed" joke at the beginning connects, given that Laurie's dad is the bricklayer, and he's definitely... not a good person, or at least not in this continuity. But I wonder if it's indicative of what Laurie mentions about her parents training her up to do vigilante stuff (especially since she’s based in part(?) on a member of the Minutemen from the comic), and how she feels about her father and his work. If the brick is symbolic of his work as a vigilante, is Laurie throwing the brick in the air, and ultimately taking down the threat at the top, meant to indicate how she sees herself using what she learned from him, or - maybe and - a disrespect for his work based on her justified hatred of him?

Roll on snare drum. Curtains. Good joke. 

[artificialqueens]

Chivalry Fell on its Sword, Chapter Two (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Brooke begins her training with the royal guard while Vanessa becomes curious about her new knight and their feelings start to grow.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback on the first chapter, both on here and on tumblr. It means more to me than I can say, but do know I really appreciate it.

I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and would any more feedback you have! Thank you times a million to Writ for betaing and Barbie for reading and supporting me, you’re both amazing <3

—

Brooke wakes slowly, blinking through eyelids still heavy with exhaustion. Sunlight warms her face, and if the sun is up, she’s late for work. But the bed beneath her is so soft, much softer than her straw bed, and there’s no knot in her neck either, because she’s not in the stable. She is now the knight in the stories that made up the best years of her childhood. Brooke would curl up in her mother’s lap, clashing swords and trampled battlefields coming to life in the thrilling tales about brave knights slaying fearsome beasts and saving the princess, then living happily ever after. Brooke always knew she wanted to live happily ever after with a princess too.

She would herd the sheep into their pen and pretend she was taming a dragon, protecting the villagers and the princess from harm. Once everyone was safe, Brooke and the princess would ride on her horse back to the castle, and Brooke would protect her and love her more than anyone as they chased their happily ever after.

Happily ever after doesn’t always exist for people like her, she knows that. Unlike knights and princes and princesses, who were born with an invisible quill weaving their beautiful story, people like Brooke got whatever was thrown at them. Brooke’s given up on letting it bother her. It’s just the way the world works, and life isn’t always happy for people like her. But Vanessa knocks on her door to bring her to breakfast, and Brooke looks around her room and takes one last peek at her armor and thinks maybe it could be this time.

—

The breakfast laid out for them is almost as impressive as last night’s dinner, with Vanessa eager and cheerful across from her. Again, Brooke thinks of what an odd princess Vanessa makes–happily dining with a member of her guard, someone she didn’t need to interact with at all. Brooke’s questioning side wonders if it’s just an act to make sure Brooke stays here, but Brooke doesn’t think Vanessa would do that. Her kindness is just kindness, pure and never meant to harm.

“Do you like bacon?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke nods, and Vanessa scoops some on her plate.

“I like the crispy ones,” Vanessa continues.

Brooke smiles shyly. “Me too.” Her mother used to fry it over the fire while she swept the kitchen floor, and Brooke loved crunching on the almost-burnt edges formed by her mother’s distraction.

“I have meetings with my mother this morning. One of my attendants will bring you to meet the guard. They’ll probably review things for the feast. Then you’ll be with me this afternoon.”

“Yes, Your Maj–Vanessa.” Brooke returns to her breakfast, trying to slow down her heart, racing like a horse in her chest at the thought of spending the afternoon with the princess.

Vanessa’s attendant Scarlet arrives, coppery hair swaying as she walks, and though she’s nice, Brooke can’t help but feel sad at leaving Vanessa, who will sit in meetings discussing things Brooke can’t even imagine. Brooke is much more suited to the flash of steel than the rustling of parchment.

Scarlet takes her down to the grounds, twisting around the back of the castle to a private forge for fixing equipment while Scarlet points out the different buildings and their uses. Brooke feels a humming in her bones, like she’s finally come home. All the noble knights that protected kings and queens over the years had used these buildings, had probably loved the clang of steel and the squeak of polishing cloth over armor just like she does. This is where she belongs.

A tall knight with gleaming blond hair awaits them at the gate. He’s the sort of man girls in Brooke’s village would giggle at when he walked by, though to Brooke he has a weasel’s eyes sunken in a face as bland as brick paste.

“That’s Ron,” Scarlet whispers. “He’s captain of the guard. I wouldn’t get on his bad side if I were you.”

“Why not?” Brooke asks, but Scarlet introduces them and is on her way, some sort of protection going with her.

“So you’re the peasant girl the princess appointed,” Ron says.

The peasant girl. The words roar in Brooke’s ears, echoing every mean thing people ever said to her, the doubts she learned to fight away. As if being those things makes her lesser, makes her undeserving.

Brooke squares her shoulders. “I am.”

Ron gives her a look like he would melt her into the ground if he could. Brooke realizes with a jolt that he’s the knight she beat to win the tournament, and he’s clearly not happy with being defeated, let alone by a girl. Any bit of pride welling in her chest is crushed by the glares he shoots at her, daring her to say something as they head inside the armory to get ready. The other twelve knights await, and none of them are as regal as the knights in the stories. Instead, they stand around whispering and complaining to each other. Most of them are probably second or third or fourth sons of kings, Brooke figures, here to serve the princess because they have no shot at their own crown. They can’t all be like the knights in the stories, no matter how much she wishes they could.

Brooke fastens her armor, the soothing routine not as calming when everyone’s eyes are on her, waiting for her to make a mistake that proves she doesn’t belong here, like they’re all thinking. She takes a slow breath and resumes the motions, as calm and cool as ever. They won’t get to her.

Ron is still glaring when she’s done, and Scarlet’s words send a shiver down Brooke’s spine. “Is there a problem?” she asks. That’s all she gets out before Ron throws himself in her face.

“The problem is you coming in here like you deserve it–”

“Are you saying I don’t deserve it?” Brooke challenges.

“You think you deserve to be one of us?” He sneers. “We’re born into this. We train our whole lives with the greatest swordmasters in the kingdom. We get the support of kings before entering tournaments. We earn our titles. We don’t just walk in like you.” A glob of spit lands on her breastplate with the last word.

Brooke’s skin steams with anger. None of them had earned things like she had. They had armor and swords handed to them, collected in piles so deep they’d never reach the bottom. But Brooke made all her own equipment. She had hammered down the steel of her leg guards until they fit like a second skin, had hovered over the iron mold breathlessly until she had a sword that was an extension of her arm. They were the first things that were truly hers, made of her blood, sweat, tears, and hard work just as much as steel, and no one will take them from her. You still won, she thinks. You won on your own.

“I still won without all that, didn’t I?” Brooke says, relishing in the awestruck gasps and whispers that erupt. “Maybe that stuff’s not worth as much as you thought.”

Ron’s face turns red as the tomatoes that grew on Brooke’s farm. “You got lucky, girl. If we ever fight again, you won’t walk away in one piece. I promise you that.”

“I beat you once. I’ll do it again,” Brooke says, nudging past him. Making an enemy wasn’t part of her plan, but she can’t let anyone doubt whether she belongs here. She has to prove that she’s worthy, like she’s done her whole life.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of great hall layouts for the feast and fighting stances, and Brooke lets it all go. She’s a real knight now, with a place to store her equipment and a huge grassy yard to practice in. A real knight, far away from her gloomy village with all the people who doubted her.

The sword dangling from her hip has never felt lighter.

—

“Vanessa, focus, please.”

Vanessa blushes at her mother’s voice, returning to plans for the feast with a chastened smile. Normally she can focus, but she can’t help it today. The council room overlooks the field where Scarlet leads Brooke to the armory, and her eyes are frozen toward the window. There’s something about how Brooke walks–not overly graceful, but steady and determined, confidence bursting from each stride of her long legs.

That same confidence was in the firm set of her shoulders as she jousted yesterday, shoulders that slouch slightly when she thinks no one is looking, like they’ve been holding the world for a very long time and are desperate for any relief they can get.

And something–maybe her shy smile, or her muscled arms, or her blushing cheeks paired with her fierceness in the arena–makes Vanessa want to help her get that relief. Her parents always told her to be kind to anyone no matter who they are or where they come from. It’s something that weighs in her mind more heavily these days, since next year she’ll be 18 and take the throne her father left behind. Brooke is a knight on her guard, and Vanessa is going to be kind regardless of the way her heart flutters at Brooke standing tall in her armor, a mysterious storybook knight come to life.

There’s definitely a mystery to Brooke–how did she become so good at 17, when the most dangerous thing girls are allowed to hold is a sewing needle? What made her want to be a knight? There’s a story in those green eyes and polished armor, and it makes Vanessa want to get to know Brooke, maybe let Brooke know her as well.

Her mother clears her throat, and Vanessa realizes she lost focus again. She sits up straighter, the afternoon’s promise of exploring the city with Brooke pushed to the back of her mind.

—

Brooke knows she and Vanessa visiting the city alone is a test from the queen to see what Brooke is made of, and even though she wants to enjoy herself, take in the vendors and people buzzing about, she can’t drop her guard. If anything happens to the princess, Brooke’s position is gone before her official knighting ceremony.

The city market is huge. Brooke remembers marveling over the size of the jousting arena, but that would easily fit inside here and still leave room. Everywhere she looks, there’s someone buying food or jewelry or fabrics from a bright tent, the sun glinting off their gold as they haggle the price. All Brooke’s wages from the forge went toward paying off her equipment, and she wonders what it will be like to have coins jangle as she walks, the promise of buying whatever she wants with her own money. She hopes the queen gives her the gold she won soon.

There’s so many people milling about, most concerned with the vendors, that no one notices them or seems to care, but Brooke still keeps a hand near her sword hilt, body curving toward Vanessa to take a protective angle if needed, a strategy she learned this morning. Vanessa smells like lemons, like cold, puckery lemonade cooling her off after brushing horses in the summer sun, and Brooke unconsciously curves in a little more.

Vanessa stops by one vendor selling golden brown cakes. “They’re little cinnamon cakes with apples and nuts inside. They’re delicious,” Vanessa says. “Have you ever tried one?”

“No.” Brooke barely has the word out before Vanessa is marching to the vendor and buying two cakes, eagerly passing one to Brooke.

“T-thank you, Vanessa.”

“Of course.”

Vanessa watches her with excited eyes as she takes a bite, like she wants to make sure Brooke likes it, make sure she’s happy.

Brooke grins through rich cake and sweet apples. “It’s really good.”

Vanessa claps her hands. “I told you!”

“Is this what you normally do during the day?” Brooke asks as they walk past more stands, preparing to plan for possible threats.

Vanessa nods. “I do meetings and lessons every morning, and in the afternoons I visit the city or paint.”

“You paint?”

Vanessa nods in excitement. Her face glows and she appears even younger than her almost-seventeen years, happy just to talk about her art with someone. “Trees are my favorite! I’ll have to show you the ones by the castle. They’re prettiest now, in autumn. I do some embroidery too.” Vanessa pauses. “Do you like to paint or anything?”

Brooke shakes her head. Paints and brushes were a delicacy unheard of in Greenville. She’d tried to paint a horse with old supplies she found at the orphanage, but the paint was gloopy and the horse looked like a fat bear, and the paper got crumpled so Brooke’s failure couldn’t mock her. Painting always seemed like something only princesses could do. “Not really. I’m not that good at art stuff.”

“You make swords, though,” Vanessa insists. “You create something. That’s an art, isn’t it?”

Brooke’s never thought of it that way, but there is an art to it, she supposes. Patrick chiseled the molds, birthing delicate lions and wolves out of hard iron to decorate sword hilts. Brooke learned early on the steel had to be heated exactly, perfectly mixed like paints, everything poured into the mold–a canvas of sorts–without hesitation or error. Maybe art doesn’t only exist on a canvas, or in the hands of princesses.

“I guess it is,” Brooke agrees, taking the last bite of her cake.

They continue through the market unnoticed, and Brooke has never had a day like this, walking around with someone so freely, not sore from working or plotting which cart to steal an apple from while her mouth watered over sweet cakes, and she finds her hand drifting farther and farther from her sword.

—

“There’s going to be 150 guests for the princess’s birthday feast this Saturday,” Ron booms. “We’ll have guards at the hall entrance and along the tables. See me after training for your position.”

150 guests for a feast. Brooke can’t get the number out of her head as they train in the sun-baked courtyard, an autumn breeze keeping her cool. 150 is nothing compared to the amount of people that saw her joust, but it’s still a lot to keep track of. But she wouldn’t be a knight if she couldn’t take the challenge, and she’s eager for something to prove herself with.

Ron tells her that she’ll be sitting with the princess and queen on Vanessa’s orders, and Brooke can’t hide her grin. Of all the knights, Vanessa chose Brooke to be beside her, chose Brooke as the knight she most wanted to protect her.

“Wipe that smile off your face. You need to familiarize yourself with the guest list and seating arrangements. If a peasant girl like you can, of course,” Ron snickers as he walks away, like he knows the paper he’s given her is deadlier than any sword.

Brooke’s heart sinks to her stomach as she returns to the castle, waiting until she’s safely by her room to peek at the list and let her fear show. Shame bubbles in her chest and panic claws at her throat, stealing all the castle’s air. The other knights could read without a problem, but hardly anyone in her village could read. The stories Brooke’s mother told her had been passed down through the generations, at their best on cold nights with a fire crackling. The orphanage had too many children to wrangle to worry about teaching, and reading remained something only the nobility could do.

Brooke can pick out the letters in her name, like those little circles that mean O, but the rest might as well be another language. How could she follow her orders and protect all the guests if she didn’t know their names or where they were sitting? How can she call herself a knight if she can’t do her duty?

She sets the paper down before she tears it in frustration. Though that might be better than telling the guards she doesn’t know how to read. They already think she’s unworthy; if she tells them she can’t read, it’ll only be further proof that she’s inferior, and she can’t let them see such weakness. She can just picture how Ron will sneer at her, lobbing insults her armor might not be able to deflect—

“What’s that?” Vanessa asks. Brooke jumps, so lost in misery she didn’t even hear Vanessa coming.

“Nothing,” Brooke says quickly. Vanessa could read and write and probably add up numbers too. She’d surely laugh at Brooke if she knew it took her a week of practice just to write her own name on the tournament entry list, with a child’s shaky scribbles, because she insisted on doing it herself.

“It looks like the guest list for the feast.”

“It is, but…”

“What is it?” Vanessa’s tone is gentle, eyes wondering what’s wrong, and telling her has to be a lesser evil than telling the whole guard. Vanessa has been nothing but kind to her, and maybe she won’t even laugh.

“I don’t…I can’t read very well,” Brooke chokes out, because that sounds better than saying she can’t read at all, eases the shame just a bit. A smaller hit to her pride somehow. Vanessa’s eyes widen and Brooke looks down at her feet, cheeks on fire.

“Do you want me to help you?” Vanessa asks softly. There’s no pity in her eyes, nothing but pure kindness and a desire to help. Vanessa truly is the strangest princess Brooke’s ever heard of, offering to help her read, giving away some of her power–Brooke has learned reading is a form of power–and letting Brooke have it, when no one ever cares if peasants could read.

Brooke can’t see any other choice, so she follows Vanessa into her bedroom, too stunned to notice how extravagant Vanessa’s room is as they sit at a small table in the corner. Vanessa pulls out paper and quickly writes down a bunch of letters, her quill looping across the page like a dance. “This is the alphabet,” Vanessa explains. “The first letter is an A. It looks like an arrow tip, if that helps. A for arrow. The second letter–”

“I know that one!” Brooke says quickly.

Vanessa grins. “That’s right. B for Brooke.” She nudges a little closer, running through each letter and helping Brooke twist her mouth this way and that to make the correct sound for them all, then turning the letters into words and names. Brooke doesn’t even notice that their arms are touching until they’ve finished the guest list entirely.

—

The feast preparation is in full swing Tuesday afternoon, with dishes being polished and plates arranged, and Vanessa heads to the city with Brooke to avoid getting trampled by attendants carrying gold forks.

Most of the guards dragged their feet through the city with her, not impressed by the treats or clothes, but Brooke seemed to enjoy it their first day. She’s from Greenville, Vanessa remembers, which isn’t so much a town as it is a road through a town, and she likes watching Brooke smile when she tries a new food. None of the other guards cared for what they called “street treats” with disdain, having grown up with private chefs in their father’s castles. Ron was the worst to visit with, huffing every time Vanessa said she wasn’t ready to leave and insisting the marketplace was beneath them. But Vanessa’s father always said nothing is beneath her, that she’s no better than others because of her title, and getting to see so many people come together in one place is her favorite thing.

Her father had loved the marketplace. He took her from when she was a little girl, telling her things about the world she didn’t understand then, wanting just to eat cookies and pick out a new toy, but knows now. Things that will help her be the best ruler she can.

She practically runs from the carriage with Brooke at her side, and the marketplace spreads before them like a jewel. She pulls Brooke over to a vendor selling hats and shoves a sickly green bonnet covered in roses on her head.

“What do you think?”

Brooke snorts with laughter, her edges softening before Vanessa’s eyes. “Not bad. I think you need…this one.” Brooke replaces the green with a square hat whose orange tassels hang in Vanessa’s face.

Vanessa tears it off with a grin. She’s about to go for a pink bonnet when the aroma of fruit slips over them.

“Want to get something to eat?” Vanessa asks.

“I don’t have any money,” Brooke says quietly.

Vanessa frowns. “Did my mother not give you your winnings yet?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

Vanessa frowns deeper at Brooke using her title, heaping it on like she’s lesser than Vanessa, like she doesn’t deserve to use Vanessa’s real name. And her mother–Vanessa knows she isn’t thrilled about having a non-noble be on the guard, but she trusted Vanessa’s judgment and agreed that Brooke is a good knight. She should have given Brooke her gold by now.

“I’ll talk to her, all right? She’s just been focused on my birthday and everything.” Brooke nods, and Vanessa smiles. “Now, let’s go. I’ll buy you anything you want.”

Five minutes later, she and Brooke traipse through pottery vendors with their fruit hand-pies.

“Do you know what my father used to do with these?” Vanessa asks. She’s not sure why she’s bringing it up, but she knows Brooke is a good listener and will be more interested than the other knights.

“What?”

“He would break his pie in half, and I’d break mine in half, and we’d swap. Then we had half of each pie.” Vanessa laughs. “I think he did it because he knew I could never pick one and liked to have different flavors.” She breaks her peach hand-pie in half, holding it out to Brooke like a test. Brooke splits her strawberry one and the swap takes place, two halves making one unique whole that Vanessa eats happily.

“Your father sounded like a good man,” Brooke says hesitantly, leaving her words hanging like it’s up to Vanessa whether to take the thread or not.

“He was,” Vanessa says finally. “He was nice to everyone. He really cared about people, you know?”

Brooke nods, and Vanessa is about to ask about her family when shouts erupt from deeper in the marketplace, people running after the commotion. It’s probably some kind of fight–people jealous of a former lover, or a vendor catching someone stealing. It’s not uncommon to see people fleeing the square with bloodstained clothes and the slumped shoulders of defeat. It happens almost everyday in such a large city, but Brooke doesn’t know that, and quickly moves Vanessa against the brick of a building.

“Stay behind me!” Brooke’s voice is firm and confident, her stance solid and every inch the bold storybook knight who slays dragons. Vanessa can’t help but marvel at the muscles rippling in her shoulders, the way her whole body curves around Vanessa to shield her, taking the impact of people sprinting by to see the fight and place bets–anything can turn a profit in the marketplace–so none of them hit Vanessa.

“Brooke, it’s all right,” Vanessa says once the shouts die down. “It’s just a fight. They happen a lot here.”

“Are you sure? You’re not hurt, are you?” Brooke’s eyes are focused intently on her, scanning her body for any injuries.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Brooke. You were really brave, protecting me like that.”

Brooke’s cheeks flush as red as her strawberry pie. “Of course.” She nods toward the cobblestone streets. “Shall we?”

They walk back into the market, and Vanessa is still in awe at how fast Brooke moved to protect her. Of course the other knights protect her–Vanessa knows she’s safe with them–but there’s something about Brooke’s focus, her intense concern on keeping Vanessa safe with everything she had.

Brooke was just doing her job, Vanessa tells herself. All the knights would have done the same, with punishment of death looming if they didn’t. Sometimes Vanessa wonders whether the other knights act out of their oath to her or out of fear of punishment, but Brooke hadn’t hesitated for even a second, like she had acted solely to keep Vanessa safe than out of any other reason.

She was just doing her job, Vanessa thinks.

But her heart doesn’t want to listen.

—

Vanessa is waiting outside Brooke’s room when she returns from her afternoon shift guarding the main gate, bouncing up and down on her feet, face so flushed and nervous that Brooke forgets the cramping in her hands from polishing armor.

“Vanessa?” Brooke prompts.

“I, um, I did some painting today. Do you want to see?” Vanessa rubs at her neck, and Brooke’s eyes stray to her hands. Vanessa has beautiful hands, soft and smooth and delicate. Those hands wrote out the alphabet for her and pointed to each letter with confidence and grace, and Brooke can easily imagine them holding a paintbrush, turning colors on a pallet into something beautiful.

“Of course I do,” Brooke says. Vanessa sighs in relief, her steps a little uneasy as they enter her room, and Brooke can’t imagine why Vanessa would be nervous about showing Brooke her paintings. Vanessa didn’t even bat an eyelash during the fight in the city, and her hesitation now makes Brooke want to curl her body around her and keep her safe.

The easel in the corner steals her breath. The trees with their orange-gold leaves look as realistic as the ones outside Vanessa’s window, conjuring up memories of autumns on the farm, chilly, wet leaves sticking to Brooke after hours of jumping in the piles as tall as mountains, the sizzle of her mother frying potatoes over the stove, the tall apple trees by the barn blooming with ripe red fruit.

“It’s beautiful,” Brooke says. “You’re an amazing painter.” She has to resist the urge to reach into the painting and pluck out a leaf.

“It’s strange to show someone for the first time,” Vanessa says. “My mother has seen them all, but you haven’t.”

“I know what you mean,” Brooke says. “When Patrick–he’s the forge owner–checked the first sword I made, it was…scary,” she finishes lamely, not having words for the way she held her breath as he inspected each inch of the sword, her entire future contained in three feet of steel, wondering if he’d find a flaw that would cost her the job and everything she was working for. “Sorry, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It is scary,” Vanessa agrees. “Like you’re showing someone part of you, and if they don’t like it, it feels as though they don’t like you.”

Brooke nods solemnly, and as Vanessa points out some of the details on the canvas, Brooke sees a dot of orange paint along her finger. Just a tiny smudge, barely noticeable unless you looked, but it tugs something in Brooke’s heart. It matches the polishing liquid staining Brooke’s fingers, and it’s something else to connect them. She and Vanessa, both with hands stained from a day’s work, who know what it’s like to stand over something and watch it become something more, become art.

Brooke points to the canvas. “Will you tell me about it?”

Vanessa claps her hand in excitement, like she hasn’t had someone to talk about art with in a while, and though Brooke doesn’t know all the techniques she mentions, she knows that Vanessa has shown Brooke a very secret part of her, and Brooke likes that part very much.

[caconymhypocrisy]

Jan. 1, 2021 - Journal Entry

I masturbated a lot today. I don’t think it’s really a healthy thing anymore. I don’t know. I liked it. But it was for like, hours. And hours. I should probably start totaling the number soon – like start time and end time. It was great, and I want to do it again.

But earlier today I was so sad. I wept at the show “Euphoria”. It pulled all these crazy emotions out of me, and afterwards… I don’t know. I just felt so fucking sad.

I remembered the nights before tonight… the nights since the breakup.

I did a pretty similar thing.

I would jerk off for hours. Like 6 hours of just clicking through videos with one hand and edging myself with the other. It sounds pretty despicable to write it out like this. And if anyone is reading this, just know that I’m going through a hard time.

Although it seems to be getting less hard all the time now. Not my emotions. I mean my dick. After doing it for so long, I think I might start to be wearing it down.

It could be that, or the alcohol, or the coke, or the emotions. But it seems more difficult now than it used to be to keep “it” up for a long time. Yet I still try. I scan the videos, I use my plugs and oils, some stupid ring, all because I want to feel that feeling, that “oh, fuck. Yeah, that’s hot” feeling.

That feeling when you get right to the edge. Right up to the line. And it feels so good and you’re about to nut… but you don’t want to nut. Because when you do, it’s over.

Then you have to go back and face reality.

Then you have to remember why you started watching porn in the first place. Why you tried so tirelessly to get yourself hard again. Why you were looking for some form of temporary happiness that would take you away from this unstable emotional turmoil that you created for yourself. From the loneliness that you so desired and now find that it’s nothing but a pile of bricks that suffocates you. This fucking hell that finds you no matter what you do.

That was a dark line of thought. We all are a product of our actions. And I want to make more actions that improve my life.

I don’t know how to do that now, though. Drinking feels good. Masturbating feels good. Porn is really, really nice to watch (there is so much of it. It’s hard to stop). But all these things fade.

But I suppose, too, life fades. We all will die. And at least I’m enjoying some things, right?

I mean, it is fleeting. The drugs, the alcohol, the few moments of ecstasy before coming. But so is life. So why am I fighting it?

People with these issues, these “addictions”, want to improve their lives. Improve. What does that mean? Stop doing your drugs and obsessions, and start being a better person.

I don’t know. For what? What’s the point of doing all that? Jesus, I sound so entitled. People are starving in the world and I… fuck. What’s the point?

Do something that makes you better. Or help someone else be better. But these words to me now seem so arbitrary. What is better? What is progress? It might be a good thing to have a healthy diet, but why? So you can live longer? Support your kids and your family?

I don’t have those. I don’t want those. I just broke up with my girlfriend. And now I feel so alone. And getting a job, going back to school, or finding someone else to love… it all just seems so… exhausting.

I’m tired.

Fuck the world. Fuck this pandemic. I feel like there aren’t even friends I can talk to. Not really. I mean, I have friends. But they don’t really listen. Not really. Not when emotions are involved. And I broke up with my girlfriend, the one who is supposed to be the person to talk to about these things.

I just feel so alone.

And I believe in my mantra: no one will ever really understand you.

So, progress. I don’t know what the fuck it is. I don’t know why I’m writing all this down. But I can say that I’m enjoying the process of typing.

In self-help books they tell you to set goals, to become the person you want to be, and imagine the memory you want to leave behind.

Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what I leave behind. I’ll be dead. And the person I want to be? Well, I guess healthy enough to jack off another night. It might be nice to have someone to sleep with. Not like “sleep” with like sex, but just to cuddle. But I’ve also enjoyed these nights sleeping by myself. But what if I don’t want that anymore? What if I want some of both? Is there someone out there who can do both? What if I get bored of my next partner? What then? I have to go through this whole entire painful process again?

I got off topic. Setting goals. OK, let me think.

I should exercise more. That’s for sure. I went on a short run today and two days ago with Bosko. I didn’t run far, just a few blocks, and I was embarrassed with how that turned out.

Whatever. I should probably stop vaping soon too because I coughed a lot afterwards. Maybe I should start swimming again.

I want to.

Ugh. I used to be so active. I used to swim at least a few times a week. Depression (I think I’m depressed; why else would I be typing this much at 5:41 in the morning) just makes you feel so heavy. So worthless. Like… what’s the fucking point of doing anything?

My bike is still at her house. And the skates that she bought me… they’re in her car. God, I want those skates. I thought about using them. Then I think about her. Then I think about if I made a mistake leaving her. But then again, no, maybe I just want the skates.

I don’t fucking know.

OK, one more time: setting goals.

Exercise more. That’s something.

Drink less. That one is going to take some time. I think I’m developing an addiction.

Ok – moving out… this one… fuck.

I should move out. I need to. I can’t stay here. Fuck my brothers. And fuck I can’t start talking about my mom. I love her, and she supports me, but my god she really wants me to go through with this PT shit.

And I guess I’m for that. I don’t know. I’m not passionate about it. I don’t crave learning how to be a PT. Helping people is cool, I guess.

God, I feel like such a bitch complaining about all this shit. COUNT YOUR FUCKING BLESSINGS, DICKNUTS. I’m in a good home. And yeah, I’m going through some emotions and that. That’s normal. That’s being a human. Get over it.

You don’t want to work? No one does. Get fucking over it you dumb piece of shit.

OK stop that. You should be nice to yourself. Now I’m sounding like I’m talking to myself, not just writing to a page.

Whatever, everyone has to work. That’s life. Man up. (That’s a stupid phrase, I know. Patriarchy and all)

I am enjoying typing all of this.

It would be more interesting to write about stuff. Maybe I could make a novel or a short story. But what would I write about? My emotions don’t generate creativity. I don’t have any crazy life experience, some traumatizing backstory that can lay down the foundation of some revolutionary work of art. I’m just a boring kid from the suburbs.

Yet, I like writing. Maybe I’m not passionate about it, but I like it. But also… I think I suck at it. Always in the writer’s groups they say “oh yeah, that’s cool. I like this part. Good job” whatever. But those are all my friends; of course, they aren’t going to say what they honestly think. Emotions and egos are at stake.

Maybe I should just share a post like this anonymously on some blog. I don’t know, is Tumblr (or whatever) still a thing? At least strangers would/should be honest.

You dumb shit. Stop asking yourself questions you don’t know the answers to. This is your fucking journal you’re writing in. There’s no one here to answer.

Except me.

Ok so goals. Maybe go back to school. Got to do something. I’ll keep writing thoughts. Fuck the dentist. Exercise. What’s the fucking point. God damn it. What a waste of life.

[sworn-unbeliever]

05 - Matter of Fact

((Some Shadowbringers spoilers! Taking a break from the battoru stuff. Joey is my lalafell main and staple character everywhere. He has a barely-updated Tumblr at @without-school-or-style.))

wc: 2,132

Lakeland. Hardly a place to call a fun place for training and a campsite, let alone picnic, but those naysayers were not Teremy. And Joey, who followed Teremy out of mission and obligation. As Joey watched Teremy practice the usual martial arts and swordsmanship drills first thing in the morning, the lalafell mused various thoughts in his journal. Just watching the miqo’te acted as enough of a reminder of things that had happened. Beside Joey, a stone pot bubbled away merrily and a pan of vegetables and fish began to heat up.

A month had passed since the nephew and I started travelling through Norvrant together.

Joey made a side note to say that ‘the nephew’ nickname came from Teremy being raised by his aunt. Or perhaps as a reminder of a cartoonish hippo asking everyone in the vicinity if they wanted to see pictures of her nephew. Teremy seemed like that kind of person of whom people close to him would want to share pictures of him whether he’d like it or not.

Since our journeys started, we’ve traveled to Eulmore, Amh Araeng, and now we’re in Lakeland. We’ve had many adventures together! We witnessed the stark difference between the abject poverty of Gatetown’s slums compared to the splendor of Eulmore proper. The way people struggle to survive all over the world, but especially pronounced Amh Araeng. And we’ve just fought a lightwarden and brought back the night in Lakeland proper.

But since this was morning, Joey had plenty of light to write in. As well, watching the nephew’s steady morning routine.

The nephew’s training is going well as expected. He has showered me with many questions, sometimes very hyper-specific questions about certain scenarios. I didn’t expect that! I thought he’d be the kind of person to be all eh who cares let’s just go and do the thing. He really wants to understand what he’s doing, and he also learns very quickly. Sometimes frighteningly so. I can’t really keep up with him thanks to my low stamina and all… Does he really need my help? I feel like I’m just there to keep him company most of the time.

Joey watched Teremy move on to another set of drills. ‘But he works hard every day for what he does. It’s hard to resent him for that.’

Still, traveling with him has been a lot of fun. Aside from his training routine which even that has its own variables, every day has been an adventure. I never know what to expect.

The pan of fish and vegetables began to sizzle, both from the heat and to symbolize Joey’s drop of mood.

Except food.

I made the mistake of letting the nephew make his own food because he claims to be a picky eater. I should be grateful that he’s cooking for the both of us… and I have been helping to gather ingredients every day. But every day has been nothing more than fish, rice, steamed vegetables. Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Joey’s voice muttered with his scrawl, both his voice and his quill growing louder with each reiteration.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables....

* * *

“MOU!!”

Teremy looked up from his food, his eyes slightly widened. “What…?”

The miqo’te and the lalafell now enjoyed a hearty breakfast. Drills done, breakfast made, now time to eat. Teremy looked at Joey with honest shock. Up until now the lalafell had never complained once about the food. Where did this all come from?

“Every day has been the same thing!” said Joey. “Fish, rice, vegetables--”

Teremy blinked. “Today’s grilled bream. Yesterday we had baked megapiranha and the day before that--”

“I mean, something new. Something exciting! Every day is the same fish, rice, steamed vegetables. As a matter of fact, that’s all we’ve had since we started travelling together.”

Exhaling, Teremy reached into his bag. “So spoiled. Here. Sodium.” From his bag, he procured some rock salt, of which he somehow had found time to grind at some point in life, and sprinkled a pinch over Joey’s vegetables.

Joey stirred up the salt in the vegetables and took a bite. “Mm! That’s good. Thank you!” He paused. “WAIT A MINUTE! That’s not the point! THE POINT IS--”

Teremy chuckled. Joey glowered. That miqo’te jerk thought he was so funny.

“--all this lack of variety is hurting my delicate culinarian sensibilities. Here, let me make lunch today. I’ll make something nice that both of us can enjoy. I used to make meals back at Fortunes & Fancies. This is no big deal to me.”

“Er, sure. Go for it.” Teremy scratched the back of his head. 

With his bowl of food on his lap, Joey threw his arms up in the air and beamed a broad smile like only a lalafell could. “Yeah! Thank you!” Quickly eating the rest of his food, he put aside the dishes and pulled out a handmade book and quill. Excitedly, like a small child, his red eyes sparkled. “So tell me what kinds of foods do you like? Besides the fish and the rice and the vegetables. What kind of foods don’t you like? Any allergies? Any preferences?”

Teremy’s eyes remained widened, as though unaccustomed to people asking him about himself. “I, ah, I’m… not a big fan of super greasy foods. My brother likes that more than me. But I’m not opposed to trying anything at least once.”

“Any kind of meat?”

“Any.”

As Joey wrote down his notes, he couldn’t help but notice Teremy looking down, the miqo’te’s face slightly forlorn. “All this time, I had no idea all this fish caused you such trauma. Want a hug?”

“Haw haw haw. Very funny.” Joey exhaled. “It’s not that, I… I’m just venting about something stupid. I like the fish. And besides, why fish anyway? Because it’s healthy?”

“That and…” Teremy looked down at his now empty dish. Closing his eyes, he smiled softly. “Because I’m reminded of home.”

“Home?” Joey repeated, tilting his head.

“Kugane,” said Teremy. “I know, not a lot of miqo’te there. Born in the lands but not of blood. All that spiel and fun shit.”

“Oh, no… I’m just happy to hear you talk about yourself.” Joey waved his hands.

Once again, Teremy looked back at Joey with wide eyes. ‘He’s really not used to people asking about him?’ Joey wondered. After a few moments, as though collecting his thoughts, Teremy spoke again.

“My… parents... ran a combination fish mart and restaurant. Fish for the people who like to make food, restaurant for the lazy. Made a modest living and all. Of course, Useless Tia--that’s what Jer and I called our ‘father’--left it up to my brother and I to actually get the fish. Our labor, his fortune. That’s how things worked within the family.” He rolled his eyes. “Even then… I can’t speak for how Jer felt, but for me, spending time with my brother and my aunt were the happiest times I had in childhood. Going fishing, beating up bandits… heh, one time, Useless Tia even pitted us against each other. Whoever caught the biggest fish ate dinner. Hah, joke’s on him. We both caught a fish and said we both did. Then Jer and I had a nice shrimp dinner at our aunt’s.”

Teremy paused.

“... sorry. Getting caught up in nostalgia like that. I’m just a sentimental fool.”

Joey shook his head. “No, not at all. Your memories and past are important to you. They give you a sense of belonging, don’t they?”

Teremy looked to the side. “... guess they do. Never thought about it that way.”

Campfire doused, dishes washed and put away in storage, Teremy stood and stretched.

“More training already? You just ate,” said Joey. He figured that Teremy had finished talking and wanted to quickly cover up his moment of vulnerability.

“After a break.” Teremy winked as he raised an arm over his head. “How about you?”

“I, ah, I’m going to plan lunch. You’ll be okay when I’ve left to get ingredients?”

Teremy beat his chest with the thumb side of his closed fist. “Surprisingly, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Joey made a face. “All right. We’ll reconvene here at Brick around lunch time.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Despite still being connected by linkpearl in case something happened, all Joey really heard on his end were various pants and grunts from Teremy’s usual after breakfast training. That gave Joey some time to come up with a menu. While perched on his flying chair, Joey scoured through his list of books and master books as to what he could possibly come up with.

‘He likes healthy food. He doesn’t like anything greasy, so fried is out. Baked seems okay.’ Joey thought. ‘His idea of a treat is sodium, which means he must secretly like salty foods. Makes sense with how much he sweats all day. Hmm. What’s local around this area. Grilled rail? I’d have to go to Ahm Araeng for that. Or how about…’

Joey’s mind wandered to Teremy’s conversation about the miqo’te’s childhood in his native Kugane. Joey had spent a spell or two there, if just to learn about the local foods. Joey thought of Teremy’s soft expression, the gentle way he spoke of his home and his childhood...

‘He misses his home, doesn’t he? Maybe some local foods from Kugane. Let’s see what I have onhand. It’s not like I can get back to the Source anytime soon…’

* * *

As promised, Teremy and Joey reconvened at the campsite. The miqo’te looked doused in water--most likely to quickly wash off all his sweat. When Teremy arrived, he saw Joey already at the campsite, beaming from ear to ear. Laid in front of him were various dishes Joey had created, all steaming as though Joey had just finished cooking.

“Ta-da!” Joey opened his arms wide. “I made a compromise kind of meal. Here’s the rice, the steamed vegetables… and on this side we have grilled rail steak made with local ingredients, and--”

“--Miso dengaku.” Teremy finished the sentence.

The miqo’te took his time to inhale the sweet scent of food. He had to admit, the smell alone was enough to send his stomach growling. Miso glazed tofu and eggplant. Just like home.

“I had to improvise with whatever I had on hand.” Joey explained. “I had some tofu, miso paste and cooking sake onhand, but the rest of it I had to improvise. I didn’t have any daikon radishes on me. Sorry. Still, I tried my best to recreate the recipe.”

Teremy sat down and scooped up some rice and vegetables into a bowl. A sudden flood of emotions tided him over and washed away anything he wanted to say. He instantly reached for the tofu. As he did so, Joey held up a plate of the grilled rail with both hands.

“Here! Try some of this. Hope you like it!”

Joey’s wide smile turned into a smaller, nervous one as Teremy ate the piece of tofu. Then gently cut a piece of rail for himself--Joey noting how properly Teremy held the steak knife and fork in his hands--and Joey pressed his fingers together.

“How is it?” Joey asked slowly.

Teremy chewed thoughtfully and slowly. He stared not at anything in particular in the distance, as though he was looking at a place far back into the First. Once he swallowed, he closed his eyes. “You could spoil me on this.” He smiled.

Joey’s face light up. He smiled brightly. “I’m glad!”

Now with Teremy’s taste buds giving the thumbs up, Joey dished out his own food. The next few moments, the two sat in amicable silence with nothing but the taste of delicious food filling their stomachs. Joey had to admit that he liked watching Teremy eat up, as though doing so was validation in its own way.

Once Teremy finished eating, he put his dishes on his lap. “All right, Joey, you win. From now on, you make food. Then we can call it even.”

“Okay! … wait, even…” Joey looked up and muttered to himself as he counted on his stubby lalafell fingers. “Wait a minute, how is this fair? I’m here helping you do that training stuff and traveling and all I got is following you around-”

“Fair is fair.” Teremy chuckled.

“Hey! Jerk! Meanie!”

“C’mon, you can insult better than that, lightweight.”

Joey didn’t even see Teremy’s arm move, but the next thing the lalafell knew, he saw Teremy’s finger on his own nose. “ACK!! MM!” Joey brushed off Teremy’s hand and his nose.

But Joey couldn’t stay mad at Teremy for too long. After all, how could he stay mad when he heard Teremy laughing so happily?

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (18/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Thank you all for being so incredibly kind to me all of the time! You don’t have to do that, and I can’t thank you enough! We’re back from London in this chapter, and they’re having that “sleepover” that was talked about. In a totally not cheesy (or at least my tolerable amount of cheesy) way ❤️

Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for beta-ing, and @carpedzem​, I think you might like this one! 

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

“I have four days off of work, and I feel like you.”

Emma sighs the words as she drops a bag in the entryway of Killian’s apartment, the black and white bag making a small thud against the hardwood. He’s got absolutely no idea what she has in there, but it sounds like every book she’s ever owned plus a brick or two that she somehow picked up on her subway ride over here.

Killian fakes a laugh, rolling his eyes a bit as Emma walks up to him and wraps her hands around the back of his neck, pressing up on her toes to gently brush her lips over his in greeting.

“You’re so funny,” he says sarcastically. “You know for a fact what I do on my days where I’m not pitching. I work a solid two hours a day on all of those days.”

Emma hums as her fingers curl into the back of his hair, and he can practically see the mischief dancing in her eyes. “You poor, hard-working man. I don’t know how you do that.”

“I put one pant leg on at a time like everyone else in the world.”

“You are basically a hero.”

“I definitely think I have a mark in a hero column.” Killian dips his head to run his lips over hers again in a better greeting than the one they just had. “I’m happy you have four days off. Whatever are you going to do with them?”

“Tonight, I was promised a sleepover with my boyfriend where he’s going to bake for me. Tomorrow, I think I’m going to go hang out with my nephew and take him outside to sweat it out in this insufferable July heat, and then for the next two days – who knows? I think I might just sleep while you spend your days exercising and suffering outside.”

“I am particularly interested in the activities you’re going to do on the first day.”

“I thought you would be. Can I take a shower first, though? I went to spin class with Ruby this morning, and I feel super gross.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything about the smell but – ”

Emma slaps his chest and laughs before baking away, a smile on her face. “Shut up, you ass. I’m finally going to go see what kind of shampoo it is that you use to make your hair soft and smell so good. You can learn a lot about a man from his shower.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you, love? It feels wrong that you’re seeing my bedroom and bathroom for the first time without me.”

“Oh no, it’s awesome. Like I said,” Emma sighs as she picks up her bag supposedly full of books and bricks, “I’m about to snoop. Be back in however much time it takes me to go through your stuff.”

“The hot water twists to the right,” he yells at her before picking up his mug of coffee and taking a sip, laughing under his breath at Emma.

Ridiculous woman who he loves.

So much.

Every part of him wants to tell her, wants to say the words out loud so that she knows just what she means to him, but he’s still biting his tongue. He thinks Emma might love him too, that she might be in the same place emotionally, but he doesn’t know. There have been moments in the past week where he thinks maybe just maybe she’s going to say something, but then she’ll change the subject or smile at him and he’ll know that the words aren’t coming.

Emma’s been burned so badly in her past, from her parents to her exes to the assholes she works with, and he’s still so amazed that their relationship is going so well. They very obviously had a rocky start, but the faith and trust that he has in her and that she has in him to share the depths of her heart astounds him.

This is – this is everything that he never thought he’d have again, and he keeps telling himself to calm down in his future thoughts because it’s still so soon.

When has his timing ever matched up with conventional standards?

But she makes him so incredibly happy, and even when they get into little arguments, he’s glad to be having those. Weirdly, he missed them. He missed having someone to debate dinner plans with and to have to schedule time to spend with and all of those other little things.

Emma was so good with his nieces in London last week too. He knew that she would be since she has so much experience with Leo, but it was refreshing to see how taken she was with Addy and Lucy. Or really, how taken Addy and Lucy were with her. Killian knew that asking her to come to Addison’s birthday party was a bit of a gamble that she likely wouldn’t take him up on, but he’s so glad that she did. Watching her walk around the room in that yellow dress effortlessly talking to his family was absolutely everything to him.

Logically, he knows that once they decide to share that they’re dating with those closest to them, Emma’s going to have to do some kind of reintroduction to the family, and he hopes that it goes well then too, that no one is mad at them for hiding such a big thing right under their noses.

That’s not going to happen. It simply won’t.

Elsa and the girls had nothing but nice things to say about Emma after that day, especially when the girls kept trying to sit next to her on the plane ride home, and all Liam did was tease him about asking her out and how she must be the most forgiving woman on the planet.

She must be.

Killian can hear the water run through the pipes to the shower in his bathroom, and since he heard no screaming, he assumes Emma figured out how the shower works well enough on her own. So, he opens his fridge and starts pulling out the ingredients he needs today. He had to go grocery shopping this morning, which was a bit of an ordeal since he had no idea what he was shopping for, and he feels like his fridge is stocked with food to make enough baked goods to stock one of those insane sales that Addy and Lucy have at their school every few months.

How much money can they really raise through selling baked goods? Donating money would likely be more effective, but he is very obviously not on a PTA board.

But he told Emma that he would bake for her one of these days, or really, that he would bake with  her, and he’ll be damned if they don’t finally do that today. He swears that things keep getting more and more hectic lately in between traveling for work and then doing actual work, and they never get a moment to just breathe and be in each other’s company.

Or talk.

They have a hell of a lot to talk about as well, and there never seems to be time. Hence why they’ve been home from London for over a week and still haven’t been able to talk about telling their friends and family.

What is life going to look like during the off-season? He wants to imagine, but he can’t. Not quite yet. That’s getting ahead of himself once more.

As the water in the bathroom runs, he starts mixing the ingredients for the crust of the strawberry lemonade bars they’re going to make. He knows that Emma is a bigger fan of chocolate while he is not, and on another day, they’ll do something more up her alley. He’s got things for smores, mostly as a joke, and he imagines she wouldn’t mind simply eating the chocolate bars.

The water turns off in the bathroom, and yet twenty minutes later, Emma still hasn’t emerged from his bedroom. Curious, he puts the whisk he’s using down and wanders back down the hallway to his bedroom, his door open so that he can see Emma sitting on his bed with a brush in hand as she works at a tangle in her damp hair, gaze focused out of one of floor-to-ceiling windows to the city skyline below.

“Hey.”

Her head twists toward him, a soft smile curved on her lips.

“Hey,” she smiles, tugging at her brush, “you have a super nice shower, and I’m totally going to utilize that more often. Also, your bed is comfortable, and it is a shame we have never used it before. Like, I love your couch a lot and the times we have had on it, but I think the bed may win.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing in here this entire time? Thinking about my bed?”

“Yep. I wasn’t really going to snoop. That’s weird. I just wanted to make sure your bed was comfortable, and I was right.”

Killian chuckles under his breath as he steps further into the room and bends his knees to brush a kiss across her temple. “I wouldn’t have minded if you snooped. There’s nothing to hide in here.” She arches a brow. “Really? You don’t have some kind of super weird shrine of me hidden in your closet?”

“Hmmm, no. I have one of Erin Andrews though. She’s my favorite blonde sportscaster.”

“You’re the worst,” Emma groans even as a chuckle passes through her lips. She tosses her brush behind her, letting it bounce on the mattress, before falling back onto the mattress herself. It’s then that he notices she’s wearing a matching set of pajamas, pink and white striped shorts with a button down with the same pattern. “Your jokes are not homeruns today.”

“Yours aren’t either, darling,” he sighs before sitting down next to her and running his hands up her inner thigh before messing with the hem of her shorts. “Did you bring matching pajamas simply to mess with me?”

Her head pops up to look at him, golden hair darkened by the water and her face bare of makeup. “Yep. You said we were having a sleepover, and I am taking you to your word. If it makes you feel less like we’re teenagers, though, I do not have a bra on under this shirt.”

“Really now?” he growls, twisting on the bed and crawling toward her, his mouth hovering over hers as his hand snakes up underneath her shirt to feel the soft skin and the very obvious lack of a bra covering her breast as he flicks his fingers over her nipple. “Ah, you weren’t lying then.”

“I tend to like to tell the truth.”

“That’s good. Me too.”

His tongue slides into the warm heat of her mouth as Emma gasps beneath him, her hips arching up while her mouth explores his even though she’s most definitely already got it mapped out. It’s as intoxicating as ever to kiss Emma, to glide and nip and tease as arousal tricks down to the base of his spine and his groin. This is not at all what he came into his bedroom for, but intentions were very literally left at the door now that he’s teasing her breast and tangling his tongue with hers in a passionate slide.

It’s quick as he unbuttons the buttons on Emma’s shirt, quicker still as she pushes him onto his back and slides his joggers off of his legs so that she can bite at the skin at his hip, nibbling a bruise into his skin that he’s sure will be there for days. There’s no time to worry about that, though, because then Emma’s hand is settling at the base of his length while her mouth settles around the tip, and he nearly implodes right then and there.

Fucking glorious.

And he tells her so in a stuttered breath, one that he can barely catch from the way that she’s working him higher and higher. His hips arch up off the bed when she hums around him, and his head presses back into his pillow while his eyes shut. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t…and then the heat of Emma’s mouth is gone, and his eyes open as his heart wildly pounds in his chest. He’s just about to ask if she’s okay and then if she is, what the hell is she doing, but then he watches her slide a condom down his shaft before she settles over him and sinks down onto him so that he can feel the most glorious heat of all.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, reaching forward to grab onto her hips, holding on tightly enough that his fingerprints might as well be inked into her skin. “How many times do I have to tell you, love, that you’re going to be the death of me?”

Emma rocks above him, her still-damp hair falling down her back as she arches it. “A few more times, at least. Or until you die.”

“I love that you can be so morbid in a moment like this.”

“I, ah, I try.”

As much as Killian wants to thrust up into her, to control the movements and the pace, he lets Emma do just that as he watches her move above him in what is very well the most glorious sight he’s ever seen. He can turn his head to either the right and see a skyline of Manhattan that looks out onto Central Park, but nothing can compare to this. Not the view from his bedroom or the view of miles and miles of ocean stretching out ahead of him with the sun beating down on his back.

Not even the view of thousands of people cheering for him in the stands.

Nothing compares to Emma.

The muscles in her thighs flex as she continues to move, her hands curled into the hair of his chest and pulling at him, and he can see sweat beading at her forehead. He imagines that later she’ll complain about how she just showered, how she was already sore from going to spin class, but there are no complaints now as his orgasm rolls in on a slow motion that has him cursing Emma’s name instead of confessing his love for her.

That may very well be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but thankfully he could focus on his own falling apart and then Emma’s, her orgasm coming to her with her flushed cheeks and parted lips.

That’s another glorious sight right there. They seem to be never ending.

“Just for the record,” Emma sighs several minutes later when they’ve cleaned themselves up and changed back into clothes, “that was not my intention for this morning.”

Killian cocks a brow and moves to cross his arms behind his head from where he’s propped up in bed, a sated smile on his face. “Am I simply that irresistible to you?”

“You smelled really good, so obviously I just had to fuck you.”

“Oh, well, of course.”

Emma giggles against his shoulder before looking up at him and brushing her lips over the corner of his mouth. “And maybe. I feel like I can’t tell you that you’re irresistible because then I’ll inflate your ego too much.”

“Ah yes. That could be an issue.”

Emma opens her mouth to say something, and he feels his stomach twist in anticipation only for Emma’s stomach to audibly growl. “I feel like now would be a good time to get that baking done.”

“Oh shit,” he curses, gently moving Emma off of him so that he can get up from bed, “I left the ingredients out on the counter before I came in here. They’re not supposed to sit out that long.”

-/-

“You’ve got a little something on your cheek, love,” Killian teases as the two of them stand in his kitchen, his countertops covered in bowls and pans with cartons and bags left open. It’s far from the tidiness that he usually keeps, but no part of him minds this morning as he and Emma get more time together.

Emma scrunches up her nose in response, reaching her hand up to wipe at her face on both sides and only managing to get flyaway hairs from her still-damp braid stuck to her cheek.

“Did I get it?”

“No,” he lies, squinting his eyes so that he can focus in on her face just that little bit more. How is he so enamored with those freckles? “On your left cheek, Swan. Right in the middle.”

She huffs with a slight roll of her eyes before raising her hand and rubbing at her cheek while he reaches into the bowl of icing for their strawberry lemonade bars they’re (mostly him) making and swipes his finger through the cream before running his finger down Emma’s cheek as her lips part and her eyes quickly blink up at him.

“Did you just make up me having something on my cheek so that you could put icing there?”

“Yep.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re calling me that a lot today.”

“Yeah, well,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as the pout that’s on her face begins crack, the corner of her mouth ticking up the slightest bit on the right, “you are being one.”

“Hey, love?” he asks, knowing that he’s about to start truly pissing her off, “you have a little something on your cheek. You should probably get that.”

If her eyes could roll to the back of her head, they would, and while Emma says that he’s the one without a great poker face, she doesn’t have too great of one right now either. She uncrosses her arms, and she looks like she’s going to wipe at the stripe of icing that’s on her cheek, but at the last minute, she lunges for the bowl only for him to grab her wrists and pull her arms upwards so that she can’t get the icing.

“Asshole,” Emma repeats while he laughs, nudging her knee away from his so that they can move out of the kitchen. Or at least a little. He’s pretty sure that Emma has her knees locked so that she won’t move. “You can’t just put icing on my face and not give me the opportunity to do the same to you.”

The words “love isn’t fair” almost escape his lips, but he bites his tongue, one particular word in that sentence not something he can say unless he’s calling Emma “love.” Even that sometimes seems risky, but it’s as natural as saying her name.

“Maybe later,” he falsely sighs, dipping his head to brush his lips over her cheek so that he can taste the icing that resides there, a sweet taste of strawberry. “You’re sweet.”

“You’re cheesy.”

“I don’t think I’m covered in cheese.”

“Oh my gosh,” Emma groans, leaning forward so that her forehead presses into his chest, her laugh loud enough so that he can feel the vibrations of it. “I cannot believe that I’m actively choosing to date you.”

“Trust me, darling, I ask myself why you’re dating me every single day.”

“As you should.”

They eventually get back to actually baking, the two of them working in companionable silence even though he keeps having to tell Emma to keep going on mixing the batter. She wants to use a mixer, which is fine most of the time, but this is always better if it’s done by hand. Emma is not a baker in the slightest, and while he knew that, it does surprise him the slightest bit when she asks questions that he thinks most people know the answer to. Then again, she never had someone to teach her to cook or bake or any basic life skills, which is probably why she loves grilled cheese sandwiches and other simple foods like that. They were something she could teach herself.

Liam taught him how to cook. Brennan never cared enough to.

But then again, past the knowledge that Liam gave him and that he learned from watching the Cooking Channel, he’d know nothing about baking if it wasn’t for the accident and his broken arm and torn rotator cuff. Almost instinctively, he rolls his shoulders back and begins stretching his right arm to loosen it up. It’s felt fine the past few days, but he felt a slight pull in it late last night and is hoping that it’s not going to start acting up again. He knows that his injury is most likely going to have a permanent effect on him, but like always, some days are better than others. And he’s doing everything to prevent it. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if presented with another long injury lay-off. Would he even have the motivation to try to come back?

That’s not a thought that he wants to have.

So, he doesn’t. He goes back to telling Emma about his day yesterday and how well he thinks the team is going to do for the rest of the season. His confidence with his arm may fluctuate, but his confidence with the team does not. They’re playing damn well this season, better even than last season, and he can’t help but hope that they’re going to be standing on the field as winners at the last game of the season.

Getting ahead of himself. He’s got to stop doing that.

“Yeah, well, if that happens, you still can’t ask me out on air,” Emma teases, bumping her hip into his while she pours the batter into the pan.

“Swan, we’ve very much established that only you ask me out in this relationship.”

“Exactly. I’m obviously the person who always makes the big moves.”

Killian shakes his head before kissing to top of her head and turning around to put the tray into his oven, closing the door and setting a timer for thirty minutes on his phone. He and Emma settle down onto his couch, Emma throwing her legs over his lap and stretching her arm over his shoulder while his hand settles on her inner thigh. It’s comfortable, relaxed, and he could fall asleep with the way the sun is softly coming through his windows and the television is playing quietly in the background.

But he doesn’t. Mostly because Emma starts talking.

“So, we need to talk.”

His head twists toward her so that he can look in her eyes. “I feel like that’s something you’ve said before.”

“Funny,” Emma laughs, nibbling on her bottom lip, “because I have, and we’re about to have the same conversation.”

A sigh passes through his lips as his mind connects the dots. “Ah, well, what is it you want to say? I figure you have an itemized list in that head since you’re the one who brought it up.”

“It’s not itemized, per say. It’s just kind of there all mixed around.” Her free hand moves as she says this, and she sinks a little further into the couch, splaying her legs out over him even more. It’s the most comfortable and awkward he thinks she’s ever looked in his presence. “I’m…it’s hard, okay. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says even as he laughs, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip while Emma glares up at him. “Okay, okay. You’re just so flustered, and it’s adorable.”

“How do we ever have serious conversations?”

“Usually we’re in a hotel bed.”

“Damn, you’re right. I’d say we go back to your bed, but I feel like I’ll get distracted by how soft your sheets are.”

“Oh, and not by me?”

“Nope,” Emma chuckles, bopping his nose, “not at all.”

His hand taps at her hip, fingers curling up underneath her top so that he can pinch the skin on her stomach. “Share what’s on your mind, darling.”

She sighs, her lashes fluttering closed against cheeks.

“So, I really, really want to tell people about you and me. I want to be able to not have to lie to Ruby about where I’ve been or not be able to tell David and Mary Margaret what’s going on in my life. And I want you to be able to tell Liam and Elsa. I don’t want to go to any other parties where I just happen to be there and have to act like I don’t’ know all of this information about your family. But then it’s just so complicated because, like, what about your team? Obviously, we can’t tell everyone, but you probably want to tell Robin and Will, maybe even Eric. And telling Eric means telling Ariel, probably Belle too, and then it’s just this wide web of people who know and can’t say anything. And it really doesn’t change how we spend our time together except adding a few apartments for us to hang out in. By the way, there’s a dude with a camera hanging out outside the apartment building, and I had to wait for him to leave his spot to come inside. So, there’s that too.”

Emma just spewed a couple hundred words at him in what must have been a singular breath, and he feels like he’s whiplashed as he tries to work through them all and pick exactly where he needs to start.

Damn, okay. This is complicated. This is all so complicated, and it’s very much his fault for his actions of nearly a year ago. There are other factors and complications, and while yes, the two of them could very much say that they’re dating and be able to live their lives more freely, they both know that it’ll be easier to possibly share once the season is over. It’ll make Emma’s life and job less complicated and while things are obviously going well, those few extra months will make it easier for them to actually know what they’re doing here.

“Okay,” Killian finally sighs, figuring he might as well take it item by item, “so first of all, I can get you a key to the back entrance so you don’t have to deal with the occasional obnoxious paparazzi who obviously don’t know that I’m not that interesting. I should have already done that, but I felt like that would be a bit presumptuous.”

“Yeah, I would have freaked the fuck out.”

“You’re not doing that right now?”

She shrugs. “Only a little.”

“So that’s one problem solved,” he sighs, tapping one finger against her stomach for emphasis. “Next, when you go home tomorrow, I want you to tell Ruby and Graham, okay? That’s going to be step one, and I’d honestly really like to come over and see your apartment and meet them. The same goes with David and Mary Margaret and even Ruth. Those people are all your family, and if you want to share that you have the most handsome lover in all of New York, I want you to do that.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to tell Ruth and David. I’m going to call you my lover and see which one freaks out more. I bet David asks me for sex details.”

“Swan,” he groans as his head leans against the top of his couch, his lips curling into a smile, “that sounds like a good way for me to get murdered.”

“David is not that scary.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve found that no matter how progressive the world gets, older brothers tend to be far too protective, and no offense, but David is that type. I bet when we meet that he’ll squeeze my hand far too tightly in the handshake.”

“I hate that you’re right about that.”

“Exactly. But we’re clear on that. You tell your family, and I will tell mine. We’ll both make it clear that this doesn’t get out, and since we trust them, we know they’re going to respect that, yeah? And just so you know, I guarantee that Liam is going to insist on meeting you again and pull all of that older brother shit too.”

“Maybe we should just let he and David hash it out.”

“That’s exactly what we should do,” Killian chuckles as his phone starts to buzz, the timer for the oven going off. Emma’s legs slide off of him for him to stand from the couch and walk to the kitchen, grabbing two oven mitts to remove the hot pan and place it on the burners. “But seriously. We take this slow, okay? I know that I’m going to tell Liam and Elsa first, and you’ll likely tell Ruby first. And if it goes well, we take baby steps to move onto other people.”

“Are they going to totally hate us for keeping this a secret from them?”

“Maybe but not once they see how happy we are.”

Emma stands from the couch and walks over to him in the kitchen, leaning over his island to eye the cooling lemonade bars. “So, when are we going to be able to eat those?”

“In about an hour, so you have to be patient.”

“I’ve never been particularly good at that.”

-/-

Walking around the apartment, Killian starts opening up curtains to let the florescent lights of the city in, his bedroom painted in a soft glow of red and greens and yellows. The only light he has on in his bedroom is from the television, so he keeps seeing Emma’s features in flashes. It’s likely the laziest day he’s had in years, and while they did hash out details of letting their under-wraps relationship be a little more public, most of their day has been spent in bed exploring each other or watching Netflix and eating their baked goods and the pizza that he ordered. He knows that he and Emma teased each other about this being a sleepover when they’re both grown adults who are dating and not teenagers who are spending the night at their friend’s house, but they’re somehow falling into all of the stereotypes they teased each other about.

The glass of rum he’s had and the glass of wine Emma’s nursing surely help.

Maybe a little bit of boredom too.

“Truth,” Emma says flatly, pulling his comforter further up over her lap.

“Hmm,” he hums while he makes his way back to the bed, crawling under the covers and shifting to run his legs over Emma’s so that he can feel her smooth skin, “tell me the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“My boyfriend asked me out on TV.”

“Is that your serious answer?”

“Yep.” Emma twists in the bed and scoots down further under the covers, her blonde hair still twisted into a braid, but a lot of the front pieces have fallen out and are landing on her bare shoulders. “That’s what I’m sticking with for now. It’s your turn. Truth or dare.”

“I feel ridiculous playing this game.”

“But it’s fun.”

“Aye,” he laughs, reaching over to grab her hand and tangle their fingers together before resting their hands in the small space between them. “Truth.”

Emma’s eyes close as she thinks, her lips pursing, and he’s got absolutely no clue what’s about to come out of her mouth. “What is your least favorite thing about me?”

“Damn, Swan, that’s dirty.”

“Usually you like that.”

“Different kind of dirty. Um – ” Killian clicks his tongue as his mind runs through a short list of things that annoy him about Emma as he tries to think of something that won’t get Emma truly pissed at him. “I don’t like how difficult it is to get you to answer the phone.”

“That’s a copout.”

“So was your last answer.”

“Fine. I’ll accept it. Dare.”

“Kiss me.”

Emma rolls her eyes right after he says the words, but she still presses forward to briefly brush her lips over his, a soft, slow kiss that has his body aching for more. But Emma pulls back before he can deepen the kiss, and he’s left with the feel of her lips on his.

“That was also a copout,” she murmurs as her hands reach down to pull the covers all the way up over her shoulders, her breasts disappearing from sight. “Truth.”

“Tell me your absolute favorite movie.”

“The Princess Bride. Feel free to quote it with me any time, and I will quote it right back.”

“As you wish.”

Emma’s eyes widen and her lips part at his words, and earlier he should have said that his least favorite thing about Emma is how hard it is for him to read her even when she’s an open book to him. But an open book half printed in code where he partially knows what’s going on but can’t quite decipher the rest.

“Your turn,” Emma whispers, snuggling further into the pillow. If he doesn’t watch out, she’s going to take his pillow home with her like she did his Vandy sweatshirt.

“Truth.”

“If you could talk to your dad again, would you?”

It’s a question out of nowhere, one he wasn’t expecting, and as much as it makes his blood boil to even think of his dad, he doesn’t mind being open like this with Emma, not when she squeezes his hand to reassure him and looks at him with green eyes that might as well hold the stars for all the light overshadowing the darkness that he sees in them.

“No,” he answers immediately before biting his tongue. “Maybe, but only to tell him how much he’s screwed up my life. I don’t – I believe in forgiveness and learning from your mistakes. I would be nothing without all of that, but I – a dad should love his kids and be there for them no matter what, not on the condition of how well one of them is playing baseball. I know that if I ever have kids, I want them to feel everything that I didn’t at home. I want to be more like my mom in all of the love that she showed, you know?”

Emma doesn’t say anything then, but she does release his hand to reach forward and grab the chain around his neck, letting his mom’s ring fall into her palm. “You’re a good man, you know that, twenty-nine?”

“Eh.”

“You are. I promise.”

Emma moves across the bed so that she can wrap her arm around his waist, simply sitting still with him in the quietness of the room as sirens and car horns blare outside, the life outside the city continuously moving as they stay still, reveling in the silence of the cocoon of his bedroom and not letting the outside world get to them. This has been one of his favorite days this year, which is saying a lot when he’s had so many that have already meant the world to him. He doesn’t know how it could get better.

Lips brush across the muscles on his stomach, soft and gentle and everything that Emma can be. “Killian?”

“Yeah, love?” he mumbles, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down the smooth expanse of her back.

“Dare me to do something bold.”

He chuckles, not entirely sure where this is coming from, but he does what she says anyways. “Emma, love, do something bold.”

Her intake of breath is something that he feels against his chest before she says, “I love you.”

[charmandhex]

Tagged by the delightful @steampunkscarecrow thank you, Scare!

Ao3 name: charmandhex

Fandoms: The Adventure Zone, specifically Balance but maybe I’ll branch out at some point

Number of fics: 40 okay wow I wonder if I can name them all...

Okay, I got to 39. The lesson: there is always another Lucretia fic I have forgotten. Seriously, I’ve got like 8.

1. Fic you spent the most time on: Party of Four, hands down. My WIP canon divergent AU featuring lots of Angus is both my longest fic and easily the most research-intensive

2. Fic you spent the least time on: Hm, kind of a tossup? Most likely either:

Soliloquy - a fic about Lucretia’s year alone, one where I sat down at my laptop and wrote for three or four hours straight until it was done

Neck and Neck at the Finish Line - Hurloane, just a dash angsty (takes place at the moment of turning into dryads, features the Raven Queen)

Ready, Set, Go - also Hurloane, I guess I just write fast for our resident battlewagons racers. This one is about Sloane persuading Hurley to start battlewagon racing and features both of them flirting and flustering the other. 

3. Longest fic: Coming in at 169(nice)k currently, that would be Party of Four. I initially thought it would be 60k, tops.

4. Shortest fic: on ao3, that would be Choices You Made - my Merle-centric fic, about Merle’s immediate refusal to give up memories of his kids in Wonderland

Outside ao3, most of my writing on tumblr is around 1k or under, as are the individual chapters in The Bonds Between Us, which features a bunch of short standalone oneshots- Blupjeans, Taakitz, Hurloane, Angus, Magnus and Lucretia friendship

5. Most hits: Party of Four

6. Most kudos: Party of Four

7. Most comment threads: Party of Four - have you noticed the trend yet? Some of it is being one of my oldest fics, some of it is number is chapters

8. Fave fic you wrote: oh now that’s a hard one. Hm. I’m gonna stick to ones I haven’t talked about already to make this marginally easier.

Apogee is a personal favorite because it was such a challenging one, and I’m pleased with how it turned out. It’s Taako and Lucretia post-canon and was one of the times Taako surprised me even as I was writing him.

Anniversary is one of the first times I felt like I’d actually written something worthwhile. Like all my one word title fics, it’s on the angsty side, this one probably more than most. It’s about Magnus and Julia and their relationship, focused on one day out of the year - their anniversary. Possibly the first time I made people cry too.

And because I wanna talk about it: At Death Do We Start. This one was originally a oneshot for Day 1 of the 2019 Taakitz week, only it rapidly overshadowed the rest of my plans and took on a life of its own. It’s inspired by really two things in particular: 1) a kind of old fairytale type frame wherein the hero would have to go on some kind of impossible quest to be granted permission to marry their one true love and 2) that one very specific part of the movie the Corpse Bride where the religious figure character tells Emily that she can’t be married to Victor because death has already parted them. Spin those two together and you get another of my most ambitious projects - Taakitz, action and adventure, a whole boatload of characters, me elaborately planning out fights - I rolled all of them and home brewed for one of them in particular. I’ve been doing a lot of setup and a lot of work, and I’m so excited to see what everyone’s reactions will be when we get there.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:

There are a couple, probably. Razed was my first fic, about Lucretia in Wonderland, and it’d be interesting to see how much I’ve improved. Press A to Start and Recollection were both the starts of projects that kind of fell by the way side due to lack of time. Recollection in particular is one I would love to get back to.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

Mmmmmmmmmm I have two but I’ll go with Po4 because I haven’t actually yet written anything for the next chapter of At Death Do We Start, just planned. This takes place during Lunar Interlude III: Rest and Relaxation.

           Angus might be a full time Seeker getting information to the Reclaimers when he’s on the moon base. But, well, there are still mysteries to be solved the world over. And Angus isn’t always on the moon base.

           Angus peers around the corner of the small stone outcropping concealing him. No one in sight. Now he just needs to make his move-

           “Hey, Ango!” Magnus’s booming voice sounds, loud to the point of echoing, and completely blowing Angus’s cover.

           Angus jumps, in the moment more startled cat than competent detective, and spins to see one Magnus Burnsides standing before him, his face painted with a dog’s nose and a spot around one eye, balloon string in one hand, and cotton candy in the other.

           In Neverwinter. Not on the moon base.

           “What are you doing here, sir?” Angus hisses, attempting to grab Magnus’s hand and tug the unmoving Magnus behind the outcropping as well. Suffice it to say, Angus doesn’t pass that strength check. Not that it would do much good; the space is fine to conceal a still fairly small boy of ten but nowhere near enough to conceal the moon base’s resident brick shithouse.

           “Uh, going to the zoo? Just like you?” Magnus takes a bite of cotton candy.

           “Yes, but-”

           Angus is interrupted by a pop as Taako, armed with a souvenir cup shaped like the head of a griffin, Blinks back into the Prime Material Plane next to them. “Fancy seeing you here, Agnes,” Taako says, too casually, before taking a long, pointed sip from his souvenir cup, the sort of that’s loud and noisy and sucking up more air than beverage.

           “You’re here t-”

           “Finally!”

           Angus’s question is interrupted by yet another familiar voice as Merle, indignant expression on his face, waddles up to them.

           They’re definitely not fitting behind the outcropping now.

Tagging: @everqueen12 @windywords123 @terezis @raychleadele @capitalnineteen and anyone else who wants to play

[thebestpeopleinlifearefreets]

hey Taylor so I started a project about us writing 1989 things you have taught us since you’re born in 1989, unfortunately not many participated but still here’s a few things you’ve taught us :

(Feel free to added on with your fav 1989 song, photo and what it’s taught you) 1989 things Taylor has taught us 

1. Fav song on 1989 : Shake It Off; tumblr @thebestpeopleinlifearefreets​ 

Shake it off taught me to always keep shaking no matter what, to keep going to keep living life and to keep breathing even in dark times 

2. Fav song on 1989: this love  

what it taught me: it helped me during a time of heart breaking grief I was experiencing. The lyrics this love is alive back from the dead, when you’re young you just run but you come back to what you need, in silent screams wildest dreams I never dreamed of this, and so many more obviously just spoke the loudest to me. Music is all about interpretation, and for me the song really related to the death of a loved one that I had to face head on, even though it killed me. 

Tumblr username: Taylorswiftsis  Name: darya @taylorswiftsis

3. 

My favorite song from 1989 is : New Romantics 

 because I have gone through a lot with bullying and fake friends. The line “Cause baby I could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me” helps me get through it.

Tumblr: Taylorfan10 Name: Addison @taylorfan10

4. My favourite song from 1989 : wildest dreams 

 Wildest Dreams, because it taught me that Taylor can literally add anything to her music (her heartbeat) to make it more personal and she really had no hope for love at that point, but she was able to rise against that and believe in it again. 

Tumblr: wildest-dreams-ts13 Name : Kylie @wildest-dreams-ts13

5. My favourite  song is I know places

And the album taught me that whatever hardships I go through I just need to get back up and try again

Tumblr: rip-reputation Name: martine @rip-reputation

6. My favourite song is blank space  

Blank Space is still fun to sing & dance to 

  I am an older Swiftie that grew up most of my life with the lowest self esteem.  This was due to a very rough childhood.  There was abuse at home & I didn't know the definition of love.  I was very shy because I was in constant fear which caused bullying at school.  I wanted to die.  I am married with Children that have now flown the coop.  This song brought out this inner strength that I never knew existed.  I felt stronger as a person.  I know I am a good person & will never let anyone get the best of me!  I absolutely LOVE singing this song!!  What makes "Blank Space" even more special is that I was lucky to have met Andrea/Mama Swift in Minneapolis.  We were singing & dancing to Taylor singing "Blank Space" like 2 old friends having a great time!  She is so nice . This song along with many others will always have a place in my heart.    I am forever grateful to Taylor Swift, I just Love her!! 

Tumblr user @10ireland13 Name : sherry @10ireland13

7. Tumblr name LaurenSwifty  name: Lauren @laurenswifty 

Favorite song: clean 

Lesson: 1989 taught me that things may not go how you want or planned but it all works out in the end and you wouldn’t change those setbacks for the world  8.

My favourite song is out of the woods 

8. The 1989 song that taught me the most is probably Out Of The Woods. It showed me how strong and brave I could be and helped me to overcome my trauma. I know everyone has a heavy heart sometimes, but OOTW makes it feel okay. Now I see that even after the darkest times if my life, there's still a chance of seeing light again - and that's what I'm thanking this song for. ~  

Tumblr: @Taylorisiert Name (Ariana) @taylorisiert

9. My favourite song is shake it off 

 My favourite song on 1989 is Shake It Off because it has taught us to shake off the haters. Haters gonna hateeeee. - laurie (tumblr: laurielovestaylor )

@laurielovestaylor

10.  @daisyadorestaylor @daisyadorestaylor 

11. 

12.

Clean taught me to never let your past battles define your life. It taught me that you are stronger because of what you have faced. 

Barb

Tumblr: once-a-Swiftie-always-a-Swiftie @once-a-swiftie-always-a-swiftie

13.   

@luxurieswift  @luxurieswift​

14. Name: Jenna (16)

Tumblr: 

@loverswiftxx

Favorite Song of 1989: Clean

Lesson Taught: The song Clean has taught be a lot about friendships and people in your life, the song was released at a time when i was going through a lot with my friends and was unhappy with the friends I had. The song really taught me that you don’t need to hold onto toxic friendships in your life and you are better off without the people who make you unhappy and miserable. This song really inspired me to forget the toxic friends that made me unhappy and make new friends who make me happy and really care about me. Overall, Clean really has made me happier as a person and helped me through a hard time in my life!

15. (Insert your own message) 

@taylorswift​ @taylornation​

[killer-kashmir]

shy. (george harrison)

this is the first one shot i’m posting on tumblr! i rly hope you all enjoy <3, all of my stories are on wattpad, @/killerkashmir so feel free to give me a follow on there ! <3

Hamburg, Germany is not the ideal city for a young girl to be walking around during any time of the day. The cold wind stung your nose in response to the winter months, and you tried your best to get to your destination as quick as possible. There weren't many things for you to do in Germany, and you found yourself horribly bored on a regular basis- that was until you discovered a club you were able to sneak into. Most bars asked for an I.D, and you stopped trying to sneak in since you couldn't afford a fake one. You had given up hope, until you heard of the Indra Club. Sure, it wasn't the classiest of places, but as long as you never went alone you were perfectly safe.

A couple of the few friends you made in the months you've been in this city invited you out to enjoy the various bands that played every night. None of the live music at Indra was spectacular, you really just came for the free drinks you'd inevitably get from an older man desperate to get into your pants (they always failed). You said a silent prayer in hopes that your perfectly curled hair wasn't ruined (it took you nearly two hours to do!) as you walked past the bouncer without a word. You came to the club so often that even the owner was familiar with you, so there was no need to talk to the bouncer. "(Y/N)! Over here!" Your eyes scanned the bar until it met with your three friends. You made your way towards them, trying your best not to bump into every person in your vicinity. The smell of beer hit you like a wall, and you were convinced that the smell had seeped into the brick walls. You took a seat on a stool, the red leather worn due to the countless amount of people using it over the years. The bartender's eyes met with your familiar face, and a warm smile overtook his features on it as he got started on the same drink you ordered nearly every night.

     "I hope this band isn't shit. It would be a relief to have some music I could actually dance to for once." Mia ranted. You nodded in silent agreement. Mia was the closest friend you had in this country, and you spent nearly every minute you could together. The other two girls that were you were with you only knew briefly, being that Mia introduced them to you only the week before. Thanking the bartender kindly, you picked up the finished drink and brought the straw to your red lips. You tried your best not to cringe as the bitter liquor met your taste buds. "I'll never get used to that damn taste." You thought to yourself, shaking your head. Your train of thought was interrupted when Mia harshly nudged your bicep, gesturing to the owner of the bar come to center stage. Tapping the microphone, he cleared his throat and introduced the band. He spoke german faster than you could keep up, but you were able to gather that the name of the band preforming was “The Beatles”. “Like the bug? What a strange name.” You thought to yourself as four young boys walked into the small stage, plugging in their instruments quietly. Now this was intriguing! You’ve watched countless musicians play on that stage, but none this young- Well, with the exception of Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, your personal favorite.

The bass player nervously coughed into the microphone, before timidly speaking to the crowd. “Uhm, good evening everyone! We are The Beatles.” The bassist kept the opening speech short, before turning to his band mates while the drummer started the count-off of the first song. Your eyes went wide and you nearly dropped your drink when they began playing their instruments and started singing. Their energy was certainly not something you were expecting, but it gave you goosebumps of excitement. Your trance was broken by the surprised laugh of Mia, a look of bewilderment on her face. She immediately grabbed your hand and shoved your way to the front of the stage, dancing freely at the loud music. You laughed at your friend’s dance moves as you grabbed her hand and twirled her. Looking back up at the stage, you began to study the faces of the bandmates, being that you were much closer than before. The bass player was very cute, and his eyes had a light that you hadn’t seen before. The rythm guitarist was the most mischievous one, and you could tell from his antics as he performed. Your attention was brought to the lead guitarist as he played out a solo, a ghost of a smile on his face. Something about this boy felt different to you, almost like he didn’t want anyone to know he was confident in his playing. You studied him for maybe longer than you meant to, and his eyes met yours. His eyes widened for a moment once he confirmed to himself that you were looking at him, and his gaze focused back into the guitar in his hands. “Geez, you totally like what you see, don’t you?” What was that look? Disgust? It definitely wasn’t interest. You tried your best to ignore what you took as silent rejection and enjoy the music that pounded on the walls of the small club.

“Thank you everyone! Have a goodnight, one again, we are The Beatles!” The boys all took a synchronized bow, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the formality of the gesture considering the crowd they were performing to. Wiping the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, you went to the bar to grab another drink. The front of the stage was always the most crowded, and the hottest. You thanked the bartender, reaching into your pocket to pay for the beverage. “It’s on me, thank you sir!” A hand slapped onto the bar, leaving a couple of coins to pay for the drink. You turned to thank whoever covered you, almost choking when your eyes were met with the face of the bass player. “Hello, lovely! I’m Paul, you are?” You wanted to laugh at how posh Paul sounded, but it was endearing. “Nice to meet you Paul, my name is (Y/N).” Paul held his drink up, smiling gently. “Wonderful name for a wonderful lass, it’s nice to meet you (Y/N).” You smiled shyly as you brought your glass up to clink with his. Your eye contact was broken when Mia caught you with you, going silent when she saw the bass player. You smiled at the girl, knowing how outgoing she could be. That was only after she got to know someone though, but at first she was extremely timid. “Oh, I wasn’t aware you had a friend! What’s your name, love?” Paul said confidently, giving Mia the same look he had just given you moments before. Mia blushed a dark red and introduced herself. “Great, we’ve got a playboy on our hands.” You couldn’t help but feel a pit of disappointment settle in your stomach, knowing his interest wasn’t in you, but every female he had come into contact with. “Would you girls like to sit at our table? You could meet the lads.” Paul suggested, and Mia turned to you to answer, being too shy to decide. “Whatever, why not. It’s impossible to get a table here anyway, so we might as well take advantage.” Your eyes met Paul’s, a confident smiling spreading onto your lips. “We’d love to!”

“Ah, who do we have here? How’d you managed to score two birds, Paul?” The rythm guitarist laughed, playfully throwing an arm around Paul’s shoulders. “Oh sod off John, I just thought it would be nice to be acquainted with the locals. This is (Y/N) and Mia, try not to leave a bad first impression, although I think you already might have.” Paul said, throwing John’s, who’s name you just discovered, arm off his body. John didn’t seem phased by the aggression, in fact it only caused his smile to grow larger. John put his elbows on the table, leaning forward to face you and Mia, his gaze bouncing between the two of you. “Okay then ladies, who’d you reckon your going home with tonight?” John said in a dramatic tone, his eyebrows bouncing up and down on his face. You snorted a laugh and rolled your eyes, putting your half empty glass on the table, making fearless eye contact with him. “As long as it’s not you, I won’t be complaining.” The comeback sent Paul into an immediate fit of laughter, slapping his hand onto John’s back. “She really got you with that one, didn’t she lad?” John scoffed and got up, claiming he needed another drink.

You found the quiet guitarist looking at you, a slight smile on his face. You knew he found the remark you made funny, but you weren’t sure if he’d ever admit it. He looked away once again, focusing on the drink in front of him. An awkward silence took over the table, and was broken when Paul spoke. “Mia, would you like to go get another drink with me?” Mia blushes once again, only being able to respond with a nod as Paul took her hand and led her away. “Great, now I’m stuck alone with the boy who clearly doesn’t like me.” You felt yourself growing more and more nervous, looking anywhere but the boys direction. You jumped in surprise when you heard the boy speak, turning your head towards his direction. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?” Your voice slightly shook, not knowing how to approach the situation at hand. “I said, ‘What’s your name?’” The boy said expectantly for an answer, a straight face being his expression. “O-oh, It’s uh, (Y/N). How about you?” You asked, trying to avoid any more awkwardness. “George.” He said, taking another sip of his drink, and you could see him cringe at the taste of the alcohol. “It’s nice to meet you George, your set was really great.” You said sweetly, managing to recollect yourself. This caused George to smile for the first time you had seen that night. It gave you butterflies. “Can I walk you home?”

You shivered as you walked down the sidewalk, the night sky black and empty, except for the large full moon that cast a pale light onto the earth below. “Thanks for walking me, George. I really appreciate it.” You spoke kindly, a gentle smiled on your face. “It’s no worries, I wanted to get to know you, and that club is a little too loud for casual conversation.” You let out a giggle at the remark, his sense of humor only intrigued you more. “Well then, what would you like to know about me?” George paused for a moment, thinking of an adequate question. “You don’t sound German, where are you from?” You laughed at the statement/question, staring at the large moon. “I’m from the states, Washington to be exact. My father got a business opportunity here in Hamburg, so it was either move, or be homeless in America.” George nodded, and you were surprised with the purity of the question. Typically, men didn’t care about your personal life, just whether you’d sleep with them or not. You spent the rest of the walk asking each other questions, learning pointless facts about each other and laughing along the way. “This is my place.” You couldn’t help but feel sad with the fact that the walk was now over, you didn’t want to say goodbye to George just yet. “Wait, I have one final question.” George spoke, looking at his feet as he kicked a nearby pebble. “Alright, shoot.” You said, your interest peaked.

“Why’d you let me walk you home?” George asked, and your mind raced for an answer. Your heartbeat was thumping violently against your chest as you took a deep breath. “Because I wanted to get to know you, and that club is a little too loud for casual conversation.” George looked at you, seemingly entertained by the use of his own words. Before you got to say anything else, George leaned forward and his lips met with yours, and his hands rested on your waist. You felt as if you could grow wings and fly away with how happy you were, and your hands instinctively went up to rest on his shoulders. The kiss lasted for only a couple moments, but it was at the top of your list for one of the best experiences you’ve ever had. You pulled back with a flushed face, your stomach turning in happy knots. George’s cheeks were tinted pink as a full smile spread onto his features. You leaned in to give the boy a quick kiss on the cheek and ran to your door step, resting a hand on the knob before turning back once more.

“Goodnight, George.”

“Sleep well, (Y/N).”

[jennygirl2014]

“Red Is Your Color”-requested fic- Part 1

(A/N:- Here it is, the first part of the request. I hope it finds the nonnie who requested it but nothing I post gets seen anymore so this will probably get lost in tumblr space too. And if it pops up on your dash I hope you enjoy. Oh and I struggle with the whole “Y/N” thing so I just put it in the first person. Sorry.)

Warnings: language, angsty feels.

              Come out and party with us, they said.  It will be fun, they said.  I didn’t know what the hell was so fun about an overcrowded room and terrible music blaring.  It was hot, almost to the point of being sticky.  The smell of booze and cheap cologne and perfume was everywhere, and it lingered when a couple walked by, to the point where I could almost taste it. Maybe I outgrew this sort of thing, maybe I got it out of my system years ago.  Maybe I had changed.  I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve been with someone who didn’t like going out and partying, you end up deciding to stay in with them and cuddle on the couch, or cook a good meal, or play a game of cards.  Sex with that one person seems infinitely better than going out and trying to recreate the same feelings with a stranger.  I guess what’s what maturity looks like.  Maturity also means moving on.  So why was I at some stupid party with the hopes of seeing her, the new woman?  Being glutton for punishment never got me anywhere good.

“Don’t you want a drink?” my friend asked me, leaning in to speak over the booming.  She was trying to dance, bless her heart.  Her lipstick was smeared above her lip, evidence of meeting someone in the bathroom earlier.  I didn’t want a drink, I wanted to see this new woman and then get the hell out of there.  Why was I even invited to that stupid party when everyone knew my ex would be there? It was no secret that we had broken up, after two long, happy years.  I heard the rumors, that he had moved on rather fast, found himself somebody new.  Everyone expected me to do that, to find someone the week after I had kicked him out of my apartment after a heated fight. I denied the rumors, saying that wasn’t like him.  But people change.  I thought maybe I had, maybe he did too.

“No,” I finally thought to answer.  I was far too consumed in my own little world to pay attention to anything else. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“There’s a line,” my friend stated, “Best use the one upstairs to the right.”

“Thanks.” I thanked her for the advice and made my way through the crowd.  Unfamiliar bodies bumped into me, making me grit my teeth. The place was disgusting, and I didn’t even know who it belonged to.   The stairs magically appeared in front of me, finally, and I climbed them with haste. “To the right.” I spoke to myself, keeping on task.  There was a door, blue with chipped paint and a silly fake anchor on it.  It had to be the bathroom.  I knocked, I thought I heard something.  I knocked again.

“Just a second, jeez!” a woman’s voice called out from inside. The door flung open rather quickly, and there stood a woman with disheveled hair and a flushed face.  Her stony cold eyes met mine with a shocked expression, as if accusing me of rushing her out of whatever predicament had her so flushed and out of breath.  I didn’t care about her personal business, at least I thought I didn’t. Not until I saw him.

              There stood my ex, he was against the wall next to the toilet, with a face that said he was as shocked to see me as I was him. His face was a nice shade of pink, his lips parted, as if he was ready to speak but didn’t know what to say. His hair was a mess, his grey Henley shirt was twisted in a way that had me knowing I had just interrupted something. I interrupted him.  With his new woman. Wearing the shirt I bought for him last year.  It would have been less awkward to see him sitting on that toilet than standing next to it, behind closed doors with her.  I peeled my eyes off of him and turned back to see the woman, a pretty little petite piece of angel food cake if I ever saw one.  She quickly yanked the skirt of her dress lower.  And I swear I saw a hickey on her neck.  

              Fuck.  I wanted proof, but I didn’t want it like this, literally staring me in the face. So it was true.  And then I felt it all at once, rage, humiliation, sadness, anger, depression, anxiety, all of it slapped me in the face.  More than that, it slapped me in the face with a brick, punched me in the gut, and then stole all of my candy before running me over with its bike.  Whatever it was.  The truth. It was the truth.  It was the consequences of my actions. It was knowing that I had made a mistake going to that party, looking for proof of that rumor, dumping him and then pretending like everything was fine.  

I had to say something. “Hey Steve.” I was happy to have found words without puking, or crying. Or both.

“Hey…” he said it back. He sounded slightly embarrassed. Or maybe it was just me hoping that he was.  My eyes fell to the floor, not daring to show any signs of the extreme distress I was feeling.

“Are you gonna stand there, or are you gonna move?” she fussed at me.  I cut my eye at her, but stepped to the side without starting a fight.  She stormed out, huffing and offended.  Next came Steve, and I kept my head down, not wanting to look at him.  He walked past me, only pausing momentarily.  I don’t know if he looked at me as he left the bathroom, I didn’t want to know, but I watched as his feet marched down the hallway.

              I stepped inside, closed the bathroom door and locked it.  I didn’t even have to pee anymore, I just needed to be alone.  I took a few steps closer to the toilet and looked around the tiny bathroom, taking in the space that he had just been in, with another woman. Hell I could still smell his damn cologne in there.  Why didn’t I just stay home?  I sat my pathetic ass down on the edge of the tub and looked at the hideous blue and white tiled floor, wishing it would swallow me whole.  How was I going to make my way down the stairs, collect my tipsy friend and get out of there without seeing him again?  I didn’t want to.  I didn’t think I could take it.  But I knew I deserved it, I knew I had no right to be upset.  I dumped him, he didn’t dump me, it wasn’t even mutual. I had no right to be upset.  Right?

“I don’t understand what I did wrong!” Steve raised his voice at me. I ignored him and kept tossing his clothes in a suitcase.  No rhyme or reason, no folding, just grabbing armfuls and chucking.  “Will you just answer me?” he shouted from behind me. I spun around with an icy glare, surely he had to have some knowledge and common sense.

“Have you been listening to me at all?” I thought up a better response, “Oh wait a second, no you haven’t, because you’re never fucking around!” I turned back to my task, getting him and his shit out of my apartment and out of my life. He rushed to my side and tried to pull those clothes out of the suitcase, but I didn’t let him.  I slammed the top of the suitcase shut, catching his fingers and causing him to curse under his breath.

“Stop it!  I’ve already told you! I have to work!  I can’t just quit!” he argued with me.

“Quit, no, nobody expects that of you.  But forgive me, as your girlfriend I was expecting you to make time for me! To show me I mattered even a little bit!  Instead you just keep showing me you don’t give a shit!” I angrily clasped his suitcase closed and stared him dead in the eyes.  He already looked defeated.

“I’m trying.  I’m trying my best.  I don’t know what more you want from me.”

“So, you really aren’t listening then!” I shouted angrily.  Flames were nipping at my skin, I knew my face was red with anger, and yet I could feel tears starting to well.  The thought of him seeing tears at that moment was scary, this was not a moment of weakness.

“So, what’s the plan?” his tone suddenly changed. “You kick me to the curb and find someone with a boring desk job?  Someone who you can push around with that piss poor attitude of yours?  Make sure they’re home every night by six, that they’re paying the electric bill…” he trailed off as he stood up straight and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Shut the fuck up.” The command came out of my mouth without even thinking it through.

“You’ll get bored of the next guy.  Then what?”

“I said shut the fuck up!” I screamed and grabbed hold of the suitcase.  The weight of it caught me off guard once it left the bed, and it dragged me down.  I had to grip the handle with both hands and drag it down the hallway.  He followed me in hot pursuit, taunting me.  

“I’m sorry I’m not around to text or chat every second of every day but let’s be clear, one of the things you like about me is how exciting my job is.  You like the looks you get while going out on my arm.  The recognition my job gets me.”

“Fuck you!” the words puffed out while my body knocked against the hallway walls and the cumbersome suitcase.  It banged on my ankles enough to hurt.  The sliding door to the balcony was only a couple steps away. I would show him how serious I was.  

“What?  It’s true!  You like being in the spotlight!  But how can you stay in the spotlight if I don’t work?” he made his point clear.  It was clear, but I didn’t care.  I slid the glass door open and stepped out into the nighttime air, hearing the bustling of city life below us.  

“This isn’t about that and you know it!” my gaze fell back onto him once again as he stood in the apartment.  “This is about me needing you in my life and you not bothering to try!” I paused as I drew in a deep breath, trying to compose my shaking voice.  “When we moved in together, we agreed, we would have more time for us.  That’s why we did it.  I stopped working late nights at the bar and gave up good tip money to make sure I had time to be with you.  All I’m getting in return is an empty side of the bed.”

“You didn’t need that tip money anymore because I made sure the bills were paid.” Steve brought out the dagger.  “Are you really going to kick me out of an apartment that I pay most of the rent for?”

Fuck him.

“I got this apartment myself!”

“Yeah when you were working two jobs!  You gonna go out and find yourself another job?” That was all it took.  The weight of his suitcase didn’t seem to bother me as I lifted it onto the balcony railing, and I watched his face change. He knew what was coming.  “Don’t you dare.” He warned me.  With a smirk on my pursed lips I released the damn thing, letting it fall down four stories in the air.  There came the most despicable sound as it hit the sidewalk, the impact causing it to burst open and his clothes littered the ground down below.  His face turned a deep shade of red, and I calmly walked back into the apartment and slammed the sliding door shut.  The sound of car horns rang from below, along with a few people cheering and laughing obnoxiously at this poor man’s expense.  

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” he barked at me.  I shrugged a shoulder and gave a partially sarcastic smile.  Partially only because I was rather proud of myself for my deed.

“Get out.” The words cut through the air like a knife. “It’s over.”

“You know what…” he started, panting with anger.  He pointed a stern finger at me, about to go off, I was sure of it.  “You’re crazy.  You are absolutely out of your mind.” His voice was low, warning me.  Daring me to cross him again.  And I had never seen his eyes that shade in my life.  I wondered if that was what his enemies saw, right before he broke them in half.  Still I stood there, plucky and unamused.  

“Goodbye.” I repeated myself.  

“Fine!” he caved.  He was like a flash or boiling rage storming through that small space, through the kitchen, up to the door that he almost ripped off of the wall.  My feet gently padded in his hot trail, following him to the door to shut it behind him, but he still lingered.  

              He stood in the hallway just beyond the door, his back still to me, but I could see his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breath.  I could see the skin on the back of his neck, just under his hairline, where the collar of his jacket didn’t cover.  His skin was a hot shade of pink, sweltering with emotion.  The emotion must have changed somewhere in his travel out of the apartment, because when he turned and I saw his face, I saw what he was really feeling.  His face was flushed, his jawline had softened, his eyes were brimmed red and glassy. It was a face of hurt and loss. At that moment, I thought I broke him.  But there was no turning back after that. I feared that if I stared at his face too long, I might have changed my mind.  Seeing him in that state would easily break me down too, but I couldn’t let it.  

Just don’t speak.

“I loved you.” He said it so soft and so gentle, it was like warmth caressing me.  

Don’t fall for it.

“Goodbye Steve.” I gulped down any other words that might have made their way out, and with that, I closed the door.  

There was a pounding on the door that shook me from my memories. I jumped and gripped onto the porcelain tub.  “Are you almost done in there?” someone’s voice called out.  My cheeks were wet.  Were those tears?  My pride was stronger than any other force known to mankind, so I knew I had to hide those tears.  I wiped my face quickly and then leaned forward to flush the toilet, pretending that I had actually gone in there for some reason.  Hadn’t I?  I couldn’t remember.  I pinched my cheeks, making them rouge and puff a little.  A deep cleansing breath, and I could act my way out of it.  Upon opening the door and seeing the stranger standing there, I placed a hand on my stomach and hunched over a bit.

“Don’t drink too much of the punch.” I told a little tale of lies all in that single sentence.  The man looked at me only briefly before walking into the bathroom and closing the door.  After that, I stood up straight, pulled back my shoulders and made my way back downstairs.  This night had run its course, time to find my drunken friend and get the hell out of there. I saw everything I needed to see.

“Hey!” my inebriated friend was already standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. “You’ve been gone forever, where did you go?” she raised her voice over the noise.

“Let’s go.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her out the front door with me, not even bothering to look around or ask if she felt like going.  She didn’t put up a fight, she didn’t even resist, she just followed.  Thank God. 

I guess it was true.  He really did change.

Second part here.

[ultramaga]

Bored quiz doing time

1. What’s your sexual orientation? Straight, which is inconvenient as Australia passed feminist laws making all heterosexual activity classed as rape at the discretion of the female.

3. Ever done any drugs? So many ... Seriously, if it was legal, I’d use cannabis as I have been adviced to by assorted medical experts. Was in the queue to take place in medical trials twice, but both times the government pulled the rug at the last minute. I’m a little bitter that the Australian government was tricked into signing a free trade treaty with a clause that made us keep it illegal even as the USA legalised it. I’d probably still be working, probably be married and have a house, if I could have gotten the meds I needed, but the government of America decided it was immoral, thanks to Nixons shenanigans.

6. Describe your dream home. Double brick, double glazed windows (not large), with ventilation that keeps privacy - we live in the day people use drones to peek inside houses, and I’d like to be able to walk around naked in the hot months. Soundproofing around key areas - I’d love a quiet bedroom. A proper area for video recording would be nice. A huge bed, and bathtub, would be groovy. A gaming room with built in speakers for sound effects and mood music...

Actually, I really miss my old book case. It was destroyed by a flood, having travelled with me for around thirty or forty years. 7. Who are you jealous of?

The people who can afford this stuff. :) Nah, I feel jealous - envious - whatever - of rich healthy people. I envy people who had good childhoods, and I envy Americans, because their constitution guarantees freedoms that have almost vanished across the globe. I used to think Australia was the best place on Earth, but year by year, our freedoms were stripped away in the name of social justice, whilst even conservative politicians kow-towed to the people who wanted to exterminate them.

9. Do you watch porn? Watch, read, listen to ... Heck, when true VR comes in, with sensory attachments, I expect to feel quite a bit of it.

10. Do you have a secret sideblog? Nope.

11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go? Hard to say. I wouldn’t mind visiting one of the US regions where cannabis is legal, but i couldn’t afford to stay for long. Plus the laws are very confusing because each state is a mini-country. I wouldn’t want to be arrested for hatespeech and it does look to be coming in through back-doors, and there are certainly members of social justice who would lurrrv a chance to get me incarcerated.. or worse, I have had threats from antifa. It still amazes me that they haven’t been declared a terrorist organisation, and that people like the mayor of Portland can openly protect them from prosecution.

12. What’s one of your fantasies? Umm, having the powers of The Purple Man could be fun.

13. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? Hahaha, no.

14. How would you spend a million dollars? Investments. You can’t even buy a house with that now.

16. Do you follow porn blogs? I used to, until the Tumblr purge that wiped out their own value. What a clever bunch they are!!

17. Are you angry with anyone right now? Feminists, for openly calling for genocide, without consequence.

23. Who are five of your favorite bands/musical artists? Pink Floyd, Kate Bush, NiN, Placebo, hmm - can’t think of anyone else i haven’t played to death.

31. Do you like paper books or ebooks better? Paper by far - my eyesight has problems, and even a large screen can be difficult. Alas, the move to pdf etc for gaming books has meant I can’t just sit down and read them like I used to.

32. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick? “The Culture” as a rule of thumb, although I think life there would be pointless. However, in terms of medical treatments, it’s far better than every other one I can think of, and there is a lot to offer. Not too keen on the identity politics side of it. I’d probably spend most of my life in a virtual world there anyway.

33. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? Big, with a lot of repetition, and proper hats.

34. What’s your coffee order? Medium cappucino, no sugar, lactose free milk if you have it.

35. Do you have a crush on anyone? Currently? No serious crush. I think Emma Watson would make a great sex-slave.

36. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes? Yes, pretty mixed feelings for some. One of them was extremely abusive, but there were some very good times. Another was more of a friend than anything else.

38. Do you drink? Rarely. Far too much pissing involved, and i loathe hang-overs.

39. Are you a virgin? Hahaha, gawd no.

47. If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick?

The question really should be “marry them and they’d want to marry you”, because otherwise it would be a quickie divorce. Hard to say as the ones i like are married, and the rest I might feel lust for but only that.

48. Describe your ideal partner. Perfect world situation? Ummm. 30? Rich? Beautiful? Smart? An interest in my hobbies, and a love of kink, I guess. Good heart, kind nature, caring.

See bottom pics for aspects of my ideal.

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather? Mild. When it is hot or cold, I can’t sleep and my health crashes. The nights here have been stuck on humid and warm, and it’s been a miserable time. In the colder weather, my nerve damage etc plays up, and I can’t sleep for different reasons. When i was young, I was fine with cold or hot weather. But I never really liked the heat as much as everyone else here seems to. By cold, I mean under 18C, say. I have no idea what snow is like. If I could block the pain of my face, I would love to muck about in it. I’ll leave with the (sadly unavailable) celeb women I find most attractive, and you are free to wonder if it is just lust or even love that I’d like to explore with them.