#which I’m in the middle of revising right now

[gothamite-rambler]

"Why does he keep aiming for that spot?!"

Batman lay face down on the ground, groaning in pain. His groin throbbed painfully from two brutal kicks delivered by Lex Luthor's nearly steel-toed boot, nestled within that ridiculous suit of his.

Superman stood nearby, sympathetic to his friend's plight but secretly grateful it wasn’t him on the receiving end.

Superman (comfortingly): So, uh, you doing okay, B?

Batman: He kicked me in the groin twice with that damn suit. You think I'm doing okay?

Superman: It can't be that bad, can it?

Batman growled in response, still writhing in discomfort. He was familiar with the idea of turning pain into strength, but this was an entirely different matter. Lex relished seeing the caped crusader in such distress.

Lex: Ah ha! Look at me, I've got the upper hand on Batman!

Superman (pointing at Batman): All you’re doing is kicking him in the crotch! That’s a low blow, literally!

Batman (deadpan): I hate you right now for saying that. And I hate Lex for putting me through this.

Lex: Well, that's what he gets for thwarting my plan to eliminate you! He’s lucky all I did was kick him where it hurts. With a limp dick like that, I can’t imagine he gets much action anyway.

Batman groaned and struggled to his feet. Fueled by frustration, he lunged at Lex, but the villain seized his fist and swiftly delivered a third kick to his groin. Batman whimpered and fell forward.

Batman (with a heavy sigh, fighting back tears): Oh God, that hurt even more than the first two!

Superman (glaring at Lex): Dude seriously, knock it off! That's the lowest type of fighting. I rephrased it for you, best buddy.

Batman (weakly, eyebrow twitching): Don't call me that while we're in the middle of a fight!

Lex: You’re losing this fight, Batman. You’re so stubborn—just stay down, you weak beta! Unlike me and my super suit!

Batman rose to his feet once more, refusing to give up, which made Superman groan in embarrassment as he shielded his eyes. Lex retaliated with a punch that sent Batman sprawling backward. Undeterred, Batman charged again, only to be knocked down once more. Superman quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a collision with Batman as he crashed to the ground for the second time.

Superman (frustrated): Batman, can we team up to fight him already?!

Batman (on his knees, gasping): Just... give me a minute.

Lex (annoyed): Ugh, he is persistent.

Superman: You have no idea. He’s actually a really decent guy once you take the time to know him.

Lex: Doubtful.

Superman: He’s usually calmer than this, but you did insult some of his family. That’s a sensitive topic for him.

Lex (uninterested): Don’t care, Superpussy.

Superman rolled his eyes. Batman, clearly in agony, mustered the strength to spring to his feet one last time, but it quickly became apparent that Lex was enjoying this brutal exchange as he kicked him in the crotch for a fourth time. Batman was regretting not adding a codpiece to his suit.

Superman: Can we call for a time-out before he makes himself infertile?

Lex laughed and, with a triumphant nod, walked away. Superman approached Batman, who lay on the ground, desperately trying to suppress his screams.

Of course! Here’s the revised version with "dick" included:

Batman (pained confusion): He keeps kicking me in the dick—why? Why does he keep kicking me in the dick?!

Superman: He just doesn’t like you. Welcome to the Lex Club. But I think I have a good idea.

Batman (with fierce indignation): If you suggest you hit him really hard, I swear I’ll kick you in the dick with kryptonite shoes!

Superman: Well, we could... hit him really hard—

Batman growled in pain, doubled over.

Superman (nervous smile): Together?

Batman (with reluctant resignation): Whatever.

--- Three hours later ---

Wonder Woman laughed hysterically as Batman, now out of his suit, iced his groin while lying flat on the floor. Unfortunately, the ice didn’t take away the pain.

Batman (groggy): This is not funny!

Wonder Woman: I’m sorry—no, I’m not! I can’t believe he kept targeting your crotch. Why didn’t you stop charging at him after the second kick?

Batman (weakly): Because the Batman doesn’t go down easily!

Wonder Woman: Or because you’re the type of man to engage in a dick-measuring contest with a villain. And he wasn’t even one of yours!

Her laughter only intensified as Batman scowled, frustrated that she had a point. He certainly didn’t want Lex to get away with his jibes about Nightwing.

Wonder Woman: What happened to your pre-planning?

Superman: He was pretty enraged, to be honest. But at least we finally took him down together. I told you hitting him really hard would work!

Wonder Woman (still chuckling): I love that you risked your normal bathroom habits and the chance of having kids just because you didn’t want to let Superman help you.

Batman remained silent, choosing to lay there, engulfed in both pain and embarrassment.

[headfullof-ideas]

Soft follow-up to my Monumential post. We don’t know much about Lemuria and the Monumentials themselves, aside from the fact that Lemuria sank six thousand years prior to the show, and the Monumentials have been around for at least a little longer than that. Long enough that Lemuria already had more than one device to control them, and effectively enough that it seemed to be a somewhat militant thing. At least that’s what the intention was when the Benthos line tried to usurp Doreus.

But that’s all we know. There’s not much information about how long the Monumentials had been around, or what Lemuria was like in regard to the rest of the world. Which means it’s a whole entire sandbox for us six fans to play with. I’ve already talked about how I also like to imply that the Monumentials aren’t from this world, but I also like to play with Lemuria’s origins, the Nekton and Benthos’s families connection to one another, and all sorts of other stuff. Each AU I have tends to have slightly different origins or functions when it comes to Lemuria and the Monumentials lore, but I’ve built an entire background for the Monumentials and how they’re linked to Lemuria’s history.

I’m writing this because I’ve been revising and editing my Subnautica/The Deep story, and all the above is pretty important to the story itself, aside from a few tweaks to make it fit with the games lore

[muniimyg]

NAKED // KNJ

note to self: take baths alone from now on

+

in which nam joon takes any and every opportunity to see you naked

pairing: boyfriend nam joon + oc 

au/genre:

(new) established relationship

non-idol au

fluff, crack, and smut

warnings:

explicit langauge and behaviour ...

cockwarming & riding,, some titty grabbing & basic ass position changes

THEY SAY ILY FOR THE FIRST TIME :D

note: originally posted on @/meowachi ,, revised !!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns

The water is colder than you expected. 

Your body reacts with goosebumps to which you let out a shiver. Maybe you took too much time getting everything ready that you missed this bath water’s prime temperature… Guess you didn’t girl-math this right. 

Oh well. 

There’s always next time, right?

Thankfully, his bare body holding yours makes it easier to adjust. He nuzzles his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist, not missing the chance to hold your breasts for a moment. You scold him as if it’s second nature and he leaves a trail of kisses up and down your neck as an apology. 

Then, you take this moment in. Honestly, setting up music was a good idea. Along with the scented candles, the bubbles in your bath, the bath lavender bath bomb, and the bath salts—all such amazing details. Everything would’ve been perfect if only Nam Joon wasn’t complaining every five seconds. 

“I hate baths.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“The bath salts went up my ass—”

Finally, you shush him.

“Please,” he cries, “can we fuck?”

Rolling your eyes, you raise your hand and flick him with your fingers. He purses his lips and shuts his eyes in response. Nam Joon sighs, feeling defeated for the nth time tonight. Prior to this bath, he had suggested shower sex. To which, you argued you’d be too afraid to try since you’re as clumsy as they come… And he himself… Well, it was nice of him to ask.

It’s not like you didn’t want to have sex tonight… No, of course, you do. Your handsome and beefy boyfriend was naked, holding you.. Who wouldn’t be turned on? You just feel like being annoying. You want to push him as far as you can. You want to see how good he stays. How well self-disciplined he is. 

So, you sink into his body again, taking another deep breath in. 

Let’s try this again.

Relax.

You want to relax. 

That’s all you want to do.

It doesn’t last. A few giggles escape your lips as he begins to place small kisses on your shoulder all the way to the sides of your face. 

“Nam Joon…” you attempt to sound annoyed.

In his low voice, he hums; “Yes, my love?”

“You’re not making me feel relaxed!” Suddenly, you squirm as he bites your shoulder playfully. “I want to—stop that! I just want to relax, Joonie! You said you wanted to join me. You insisted.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs, only half meaning his apology. No, he wasn’t sorry. He was a man, after all. What idiot would turn down being naked in a tub of water with you? Fucking losers, that’s who. 

He squishes your body closer to him. “So... is this what you do?” 

You nod.

“Is this all that you do? This is so boring. You don’t even have those ducks to play with or like a toy boat that moves—”

“Nam Joon,” you warn, groaning at how talkative he’s becoming. “You can leave. I wouldn’t mind watching you ass walk away right now.” 

He laughs in response, getting the hint. You want to relax. He wants to be with you. This was the middle ground.

“Sorry,” he means it this time. “I’m just bored.. Like, I pictured this to be more… Sexy? Aren’t you supposed to seduce me?” Nam Joon wiggles his eyebrows at you. To that, you offer him and confused look.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ve been seducing you this entire time..” you gaslight.

He lowers his gaze. “You’ve been ignoring me since the minute we settled in the tub.”

“Aren’t you turned on?”

“No.”

You smile at him warmly, yet your tone is cold. “My love, if that’s the case… Then why do I feel your dick poking in between my legs right now?” 

He gulps.

“It’s hard.”

“I thought you said it’s boring.”

Nam Joon whines, “___, my dick is hard. I’m bored. Please sit on it.”

You gasp. 

Although, you can’t say you aren’t surprised. You’ve been together for less than a year yet he has never missed a chance to suggest such acts. Most days, you’d give in and it would be a good time. But today… You figure it would be much more fun to be a tease. This mood is sponsored by your incoming period. Regardless if it’s PMS or all your stress from work; it didn’t really matter. You just knew you weren't in the mood for super wet, slippery, hot sex in cold bath water. Imagine all the water that would be splashed on the floor! You’d be the one left to clean all of it up. Nam Joon would probably slip and hurt himself if you ordered him to do the cleaning duties.

“Okay,” you tease. “I’ll sit on your dick.”

He cheers. 

“But I won’t move.”

“W-what?” Nam Joon blinks. 

You shrug, pushing yourself up on his lap. When you find his length, you quickly guide it inside of you. No warning, not even a little rub in between. Nam Joon gulps the second he feels his cock inside of you. Unlike the water, you’re so warm. He hisses, feeling his dick begin to throb inside your tight walls. 

“M-mean,” he hisses. “You’re so mean.”

Ignoring him, you sink yourself even deeper. Now, he’s fully inside you and you’re completely sitting on him. You feel his tip and how far he is inside you.. It makes your body feel tingles and you honestly contemplate if you should just give in.

He feels so good. 

… And you hate to admit it but you overestimated yourself.

You’re having a hard time too. 

Yet, you stick it through. You have to! Rare are the moments you get where Nam Joon loses complete control.

“You asked me to sit on your dick. Sure, I’ll sit on your dick… But I’m not moving. I’m not going reverse cowgirl style. I’m not going doggy. I’m not fucking you.”

“So you’re just going to cockwarm me?” he asks, feeling betrayed. “But you love riding me!”

You glare at him. “No, I don’t. It’s tiring. It’s boring.” 

Nam Joon’s eyebrows furrow together. He tries his best to focus on your words and not how perfect you are inside of him. He’s stressed as fuck but he needs to prove to you that he can get through this… He has a feeling that winning you over will get him the reward he’s been after. 

“Then why do you do it?” 

This is news to him too. You always looked like you enjoyed riding him. Honestly, you probably ride him more than you two do in any other position. Also, why would he question it? You never really complained until now. It’s one of the things he liked so much about you.. It’s like, you just knew him. 

“You love it and I love you—”

Your eyes widen.

Did you really just say that? All this time, you were worried about slipping… Who knew it wasn’t about your body but rather your words? 

You two haven’t said it to each other yet. God, this is so fucking embarrassing. In this position too? In a fucking cold ass bath? It should’ve been more romantic! Plus, he should’ve said it first! You had it all planned out.. You were going to get it out of him before you could say it first. 

As you open your mouth to deny, take back, or spit out an excuse, his words make your world stop. 

“I love you too.”

Your breath hitches. “W-what?”

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.. For the past like… Six months but I couldn’t find the right moment. I figured one day, you’d just get it out of me yourself.” Nam Joon looks awfully shy to you right now. It makes your heart flutter. 

“I thought the same,” you confess. “I wanted you to say it first.”

“Okay,” Nam Joon chuckles, “Then I said it first.”

Your heart begins to pound louder and faster. God, was he always this good with words? In all honesty, Nam Joon has no problem being the first to yield or confess.. He just needed time. Right now, he knew it well. You’re the right person at the right time. He’s so grateful.

“I wanted it to be more romantic.”

Instantly, he dips his head and kisses you slowly. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. “A slow kiss. Romantic, right? Better?”

You shake your head. 

“You have to hold my hand when you say it,” you whine. “It only makes sense that way.”

“Then, you have to look at me,” he negotiates. “You can’t be looking the other way when I say it.”

“Fine.”

You shift, pulling his dick out for a second. You adjust yourself, opening your legs and facing him. Now, your breasts were completely in front of him. He takes slow deep breaths as you put him inside you again. You wrap your arms around his neck and tilt your head. 

God, you’re so sexy.

With or without clothes, Nam Joon thinks you’re the sexiest human to ever exist. It wasn’t because your body was perfect; it was all because of the way you carried your confidence. It was that exact something he sensed and fell into an intense trance over. Moments like these play over and over in his head when he’s away from you. Moments where he feels so close to you. Physically, this was it. There is nothing more he could ask for. 

You: naked and on top of him. 

But more than that, what makes moments like these so special is the fact that he feels like he knows your soul. Bare, imperfect and so loving. It was sexy to have someone like you. It was something he had never experienced before with past loves. This was a first for him. A first real, sexy, and beautiful love. It was more than your body—it always has been. Regardless, who is he to not try? At the end of the day, he has needs. 

“Say it.” 

He laughs as he intertwines your fingers together. He raises them above the water to show you. Bringing your hands to his lips, he looks up at you and kisses your knuckles. 

“I love you, ___.”

You pout. 

He kisses your wrist and then pulls you closer to him. He kisses your breast, your collarbone, your shoulder, your cheeks, and the corner of your lip. “I’ve loved you for a while now. I’m sorry it took a cold bath to get it out of me.”

“Should’ve taken a bath together sooner.”

He laughs into your kiss. “Too bad the bath salts aren’t making me feel too sexy right now,” he confesses his uncomfortability. This is his last attempt. “Unless…”

“Spit it out,” you say, unamused.

“It’s just—”

“We’re not fucking in this bath of cold water, Joon. Give it up!” you laugh as you cup his cheeks together. You squish his lips with your thumb and index, making kissy faces at him. “No more fucking around.”

His suggestive eyes suddenly soften. “Fucking? ___, I wanted to make love… Since, you know.. I love you.”

Three times.

He said, “I love you,” three times now.

And perhaps, you’re not built for this hard-to-get lifestyle when the love of your life says such dreamy things. Of course, you’d give in. As they all say; the third time’s a charm. 

You burst into laughter, unable to hold yourself back. Desperately, you kiss him for what feels like forever, and as much as you resist; you end up riding him. 

The second you move yourself up and down, Nam Joon’s eyes widen and he smiles into the kiss. He can’t believe he won you over. 

“Fucking finally… Or should I say… Finally fucking?” Nam Joon chides, liking his word play more than he should.

Nerd alert.

You grunt, “s-shut up.” 

As you two continue to make out, you begin to move your hips as you slowly but surely begin to bounce on his hard cock. It feels so good to finally do this. As you move at a faster pace, the water begins to splash and for a second, you turn your head to make sure it isn’t going to flood the floor. But Nam Joon places his hand on your chin and the top of your neck, guiding you to look at him. 

“Don’t look away,” he hisses. “It’s just water. Focus on me.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheeks. 

For stability, you place your hands on his chest. You feel his heart and how fast it’s racing. His skin has little goosebumps due to the cold water, but you can also see sweat from his forehead lightly layer on top of his perfect skin. His eyebrows are knitted together, as he gathers all his mental strength not to cum yet. At one point, you see his lips make an ‘o’. Why was he trying so hard to last? 

“Just cum,” you assure him. “It’s fine.”

He shakes his head, refusing to give in this early. “It’s your fucking boobs,” Nam Joon blames. “Mmhff—s-shit. What the hell. Fuck it.” 

Without warning, he places his hands on your waist and lifts you up. Nam Joon gently, yet firmly, turns you over. Your chin rests just over the rim of the tub, along with your arms. Your back is arched as he backs your ass up to his dick. He takes his fingers and plays with your clit for a bit. You moan, unable to fathom just how fucking sexy this all is. You feel yourself coming close. Before you know it, he sticks himself back in and begins to pump. Nam Joon pumps himself at a steady pace. At first, they were short and fast strokes that made the water spill over and you moan louder than usual. As you reach your peak and so does he; his strokes transition to long and deep ones. 

After a few more pumps, he lets himself go and cups your breasts with his hands. You don’t feel his cum inside of you as your walls still tingle, but you know it’s inside. Regardless of the water, you just know he creamed you messy as usual. 

As you two catch your breath, he kisses your neck once again. 

“For round two…” Nam Joon teases, “I’m thinking shower sex. Thoughts?”

“Haha,” you play along. “No.”

Nam Joon pouts, giving you puppy eyes. “... But I love you.” 

You can’t help but melt.

Oh, you’re so fucked.

You know for a fact he’ll be using this line for a while… And it’ll work. He’ll get you every time. But it’s okay! You love him too. You want him too. You need him too.

Besides, you’ll be charging him the water bill.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Kobolds

I started playing d&d during 3rd edition, which presented kobolds as a trap happy gaggle of dragon obsessives who were counted as the weakest but smartest of the traditional dungeonfodder humanoids. Other than being lizardy they were presented near identically to goblins, both being petty and cruel and resentful over their small stature and the place it meant they occupied in the world. This overlap is actually one of the reasons I haven't gotten to kobolds before now, as I kinda felt like I covered most of it in my writeup for goblins a couple years ago.

Since Kobolds are a reoccuring request however I eventually decided I was going to give the people what they wanted. My plan was to talk about d&d dragonsimp kobolds vs. warcraft candleloving kobolds vs. jrpg dogpeople kobolds, and how all of these relate back to creature's mythological origin but hey wait a minute the official forgotten realms wiki says WHAT ?

Huh, that sounds like a weird sort of projection from a man who's super insecure about his height. I wonder if the original dragon magazine listed as a source here has anything more to.. Oh.... OH-NO

Living space, huh? Extinction of weaker peoples, eh? A religion based around survival, insularity, obedience, and the defeat of stronger enemies through attrition, yadon'tsay? Man, the canine kobolds might be on to something because there's an ORCHESTRA of dogwhistles going on here.

Friends, there's a lot to unpack here, so like a kobold with a pickax lets dig in

Where it started: the connection between kobolds and goblins and gnomes predates d&d back to mythological roots, as all are names shared by the european folklore character of "weird little guy who lives under the hill and plays tricks on us". Kobolds have an even more delightful bit of etymology attached, as miners blamed them for magically transforming valuable silver for (at the time) worthless cobalt. Originally my rehash of kobalds was going to centre on them as tinkerers/engineers for this reason, as alchemical cobalt batteries sound rad as hell.

Kobolds are in this way also part of the greater traditions of "mine spirits", Knackers, tommyknockers, and the like. Who play tricks on miners, and are just as likely to cause disaster when displeased as they are to warn of it when befriended.

Then the d&d authors did what they always do, they pilfered the name of folkloric creatures for the game while ignoring actual mythology, drawing hard and fast lines and making up rigid catagories as they went.

What's wrong: Given their proclivity for traps, sneak attacks, and guerilla tactics you end up getting a LOT of comparisons between Kobolds and the Viet Cong… which I find very telling.  So many of the original d&d antagonists were vessels for middle aged geeks of the 70s and 80s to hit back at their insecurities ( whether it be challenges to their masculinity, sexuality, or something more existential) it doesn’t surprise me at all that d&d has an enemy that let american boomers rehash their nation’s at the time biggest military debacle. 

Kobolds are so weak and undeserving you understand, they’ve only survived because they’re tricky, but this time we’ll get them, if we come in with enough firepower and hirelings to get through the meatgrinder we can finally hit them where they live and deal with them for good. 

D&D worldbuilding imagines kobolds as “the other” from an occupier’s lens: resentful of their rightful displacement, nursing their hatreds in the shadows, emerging only to attack or to steal and despoil what they’ve been denied. They have no ambition, no culture, no wants beyond being a threat for the new dominant power. They’re cowards for using traps and poison and tactics on those here to plunder their homes. 

What’s worth Salvaging:  While the 3e revision of kobolds as dracomaniacs is a welcome change from their old lore I’m not especially fond of it. Overuse of dragons is one of the things that most turns me off general fantasy media. Any group of sapient creatures serving a dragon is just as likely to form a dragoncult, it doesn’t make kobolds special. 

That said, if you did want to double down on kobold dragon worship you might consider spicing in a few elements from my revamped version of Tiamat, painting their reverence not just as ego and overcompensation but as a desire to emulate and become…certian kobold enclaves possibly using sorcery or alchemy to transform a chosen among their people into a fully fledged wyrm. 

While we’ve mostly tossed alignment to the curb where it belongs,to distinguish kobolds from goblins it might be worth leaning into their lawful aspects; Underfoot foremen and notaries and  work crews addressing things with a utilitarian collective effort before scurrying out of sight when the shift change occurs.  Where as goblins are screwball and slapstick onto the verge of cartoonishness, perhaps kobolds are practical and industrious to the point of causing problems: They dam a river to access a sacred cave heedless of the disruption and flooding it’d cause, they tear down, occupying and restoring a derelict mill and restoring it to function regardless of who owns it, undermining the foundations of the duke’s palace following a vein of copper in the nearby hills. 

This efficiency-focused attitude also helps thematically define mechanically minded kobolds against gnomes and dwarves as the game’s other tinkerers:  They share the practicality of dwarven artisans and the inventiveness of gnomish artificers, but lack the sentiment the other two place on what they make.  Kobold craft is often regarded as lower quality, but that’s because resource efficiency and easy replaceability are primary metrics upon which they judge something. 

Artsource

[obeythebutler]

Hey, I'm glad to see you back!

I'd like to request "having a water balloon fight in their own backyard" with Leviathan, or "both waking up in the middle of the night and going on an adventure to find the perfect snack" with Belphegor please.

Whichever one you find the easiest to write. ^_^

Humans primarily sleep at night.

To recharge for the day ahead, ensure that new memories are consolidated in the brain and to rest and repair cells.

Belphegor sleeps because his sin compels him to.

Effects of such an extended sleep schedule hasn't been studied yet in demons. You think. There are simply too many books in RAD's library for you to conduct a research project, and nor have you stumbled upon any such scientific papers yet. But it is evident that all those extra hours of slumber have had a positive effect on the demon's memory. You had watched him use the RAD-issued Devildom History Textbook, 671th revised edition as a pillow before his test during second period in class. Your own two eyes can testify that he had not studied; and yet he had scored full marks.

Osmosis; he had told you with a snarky grin.

You roll around in your bed, the movement effective in stirring the demon from his sleep. Belphegor pokes out from the mountain of blankets like a cranky cat being awoken: bedhead glory and all. Gapes at you for a moment or two and groans when you stare back.

"Stop staring at me like that. You're creeping me out."

"But I can't sleep," You counter, nudging yourself closer until your forehead touches his shoulder, and you burrow further into it. "And you always are awake at random hours in the night."

You hear him sigh. Once. Twice. Then a hand stretches out to reach for the D.D.D. on the table.

"You're right," He whispers, voice heavy with sleep. "And now we're both awake together."

“What to do then?”

“I don’t want to get up.”

"Me neither."

"Mhm."

It takes three minutes for you to blurt out the words: “I’m feeling hungry for a snack though.”

"Beel might already be in the kitchen," He states, resting his head under his arm. "And Lucifer is awake at this time."

"Blegh."

"What do you want to eat?"

"Uh-"

Fifteen minutes later, you and Belphie stand in front of the establishment.

"It's closed."

Belphegor mutters with dejection at the closed sign in front of him. The always open 6/13 is closed. Under repair, the notice glued on the door states.

All that walking for nothing.

You check your D.D.D. "Let's try Uncle Demon. You and Beel often frequent it for donoughts, right?"

"Yes, but I don't want something sweet right now."

"Savoury?"

"Yes."

Belphegor rubs his eyes. "Cafe Lament has revised its working hours from 10 to 11pm to being open till 2am in the night."

"How'd you know that?"

"Beel told me."

An Ignis Owl hoots in the distance, breaking the quiet. You are reminded to look at the time. "We have," You bend down to tie your shoelaces, "Exactly twenty-five minutes before it closes."

"Shit." He says. "Better hurry."'

Countless times Lucifer has had to drag his brother downstairs to the dining table. Innumerable instances have occurred where one of the brothers had to carry Belphegor to whatever destination they were after in that moment. Many a times he fell asleep in your lap.

And now he's grabbing your hand and making a run for it.

The wind roars in your ears as you scuttle along with him. His face is determined, hair tousled by the wind, breath coming out in huffs.

You know he'll be exhausted by the end of it all, eyes droopy and breath slowed. He's so much like a cat sometimes, getting brief bursts of hyperactivity in the night, then settling down near you for a nap.

Lucifer hasn't started blowing up your D.D.D., which means the ruse of pillows arranged like two bodies sleeping has worked. Or that the demon has decided to plop down on his pile of paperwork face-first in exhaustion. Beelzebub has gone back to sleep. You'll get a snack packed for him too, hand it over in the morning.

Later, when both of your cravings have been satiated, and the clock will strike three, you and Belphegor will make it back to the house, the gates opening quietly. They're old iron gates, and usually they would screech, but the House knows the mannerisms of its inhabitants: when to be loud and when to be silent.

You know you're going to wake up late, but midnight adventures like these don't come often.

For now, you're content sleeping with your demon in the attic.

[alex51324]

So I finally got around to reading the Gideon the Ninth/Locked Tomb series, which is awesome, and I have a number of observations, but let’s start with this: 

HERE BE SPOILERS!!  Big ones.  Up through Nona the Ninth.

I’ve seen John Gaius’s villain arc summed up as “he got mad and destroyed the solar system because they didn’t use his plan to save Earth/humanity.”  But the actual story, as I understand it, is way more relatable than that.  

I mean, here’s what I understood to have happened:  First, he’s involved in a plan to save humanity from extinction.  Said plan struggles to get funding and resources, until eventually it is put on hold.  (And he develops superpowers.)  Eventually, the Powers That Be reveal the replacement plan to save humanity from extinction, and it has...big, obvious holes in it.  Just does not pass the sniff test.  JG points this out, but nobody pays any attention.  (Meanwhile, he starts attracting more attention for his superpowers.  However, this does not result in any attention for his central message, i.e., “The newly-revised plan to save humanity from extinction is shady as fuck.”)

So he goes about collecting evidence for the shadiness of the New Plan.  Just reams of evidence showing that there is no possible way that there could possibly be enough FTL ships built in time to save more than a tiny fraction of the population.  He tries showing this evidence to world leaders.  He tries showing it to the general public.  (Meanwhile, the powers-that-be have started getting scared of his superpowers; in response he explodes some cows.)   He comes right out and says, “Hey, this small group of extremely rich people are conning the entire world into building & paying for a lifeboat that is only ever going to be big enough for them, and that’s super fucked-up.”

But  the people with seats in the lifeboat say, “That’s the guy who exploded those cows that one time, and cows have feelings.”

And everybody falls for it.  Nobody can be persuaded to care that 99.9% of humanity is going to be left to die, but there is plenty of outrage available for that herd of cows he exploded.  Every time he tries to show his evidence--large amounts of hard and extremely convincing evidence--that there is no second wave of lifeboats (much less any more after that), all anyone wants to talk about is the cows.  

He keeps on attempting to Reveal The Truth up until the lifeboats are on the launching pads and the countdown is starting.  Then, and only then, he goes, “OK, so apparently you only listen to cartoonishly evil supervillains, I can work with that” and starts cackling evilly and waving a nuclear bomb around.  

But the powers-that-be somehow guess that at this point he’s only posing as a cartoonishly evil supervillain at this point, so it doesn’t work, and finally, when it becomes clear that it’s now too late for any rational means of persuasion to work, he flips over to actually being a supervillain.

And man, as supervillain origin stories go, I just find that super-relatable.  

Disclaimer: obviously killing the entire solar system and everyone in it is bad!  And  pursuing a 10,000 year campaign of vengeance against the distant descendants of the people who conned the rest of humanity into building them a lifeboat and then left them (the rest of humanity) for dead is super fucked up. 

But.  If I were ever to go supervillain, it would probably be something like that.  I’ve had the experience of trying to show people that the course of action they’re pursuing is obviously and transparently worse, in all of the ways that they claim to care about than an alternative that they have rejected, and having them just...not care.  If I were given superpowers in the middle of such a situation, it would end badly, is what I’m saying.  

Anyway, I find that very impressive, writing-wise.  JG has obviously sailed way over the moral event horizon, and he’s kept on finding new ways to be evil after the whole genocide-starkiller thing, but the way he got there is a path I could very easily see myself going down.  

Looking back, I think the fundamental error was when he went from thinking, “They should listen to me because I have all this evidence,” to “they should listen to me because I could kill them with my magic powers.”  Everything else--for the next 10,000 years--kind of follows from that.  But I can’t be sure I wouldn’t make that mistake, if I A) was really mad, and B) had magic powers. 

[jimhines]

2022 Writing Income

It’s that time again – for fifteen years now I’ve been writing an annual blog post about my income as a writer. Money tends to be an uncomfortable, even taboo topic, but I think it’s important to help counter the myths that we’re all multimillionaires living in Glass Onion-style mansions. (Side note: If anyone wants to pay millions of dollars for my book, I’ll happily update this blog post from my private island mansion.)

Remember, every writer’s career is different, and I’m only one data point.

Prior Years: Here are the annual write-ups going back to 2007: 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021.

In 2016, instead of a personal income write-up, I did a survey of almost 400 novelists about their income.

My Background: I’m a primarily “traditionally published,” U.S.-based SF/F author with 15 books in print from major New York publishers. The first of those books came out from DAW in 2006. I have an agent, and have been with them since about 2004.

I’ve self-published a middle grade fantasy and a few short collections. I’ve also sold about 50 short stories to different magazines and anthologies.

I’ve never hit the NYT or USA Today bestseller lists.

I’m currently the sole parent of a teenager (at home) and a 22-year-old (at college). I have a day job that’s just over half-time, both for the paycheck and the benefits.

2022 in Summary: There’s no gentle way to say this. The last several years have kind of sucked. Losing my wife to cancer in 2019 completely derailed my writing. I was hoping 2022 would be a comeback year, but life had other plans…

I did write and sell two new short stories and one nonfiction piece, which was nice. I’ve got a finished middle grade book that’s been on submission for a while. I finished a standalone fantasy that’s been sitting with my publisher for a while.

Normally, my editor is pretty quick about responding, but last year wasn’t normal for DAW, either. DAW was acquired by Astra House. A lot of their time and energy went into that deal. I’m hoping for the best, but things still haven’t settled into the new “normal.”

Last year did see the release — finally — of Terminal Peace, the third book in the Janitors of the Post-Apocalypse series. I’m thrilled and relieved to see that book in print, but it came out right in the middle of the Astra House acquisition, which may have impacted things like promotion and publicity.

I also finished the first draft and started revising a new standalone middle grade fantasy with series potential.

2022 Income: The biggest check was the publication payment for Terminal Peace. All total, before taxes and various expenses, the writing brought in $13,957.16. While that’s absolutely nothing to sneer at, and I’m grateful for the success, it’s also a dropoff from the past couple of years. To be blunt, if you look at the cumulative graph, things have been slumping a bit.

Income Breakdown:

Patreon has been a small but steady and helpful source of income. My thanks to everyone for that!

As usual, my U.S. novels are the biggest piece of the pie. The short fiction category is a bit higher this year, thanks to those two new stories. I didn’t self-publish anything new in 2022, but if that middle grade book doesn’t sell, I’d like to publish that one later this year.

Novels (U.S. editions): $8,542.83

Novels (Non-U.S. editions): $473.25

Self-Published: $1158.24

Short fiction: $892.86

Audio: $521.04

Patreon: $1668.94

Other: $700

I mentioned earlier that things have been in a bit of a slump, and I need to focus on breaking out of that. Some things I can’t currently control. Tomorrow I could wake up to an offer from DAW on the book they’ve got, and maybe an email from my agent that the middle grade title he’s been shopping around went to auction and got a six-figure advance. But I can’t make these things happen.

Priority #1 is to keep writing. If I’m not doing that, other goals are pretty much moot.

Priority #2 is to figure out some alternate options. It may be time to put more time and effort into self-publishing as a complement to my traditionally published work.

The biggest thing making me anxious is that I’m pretty much out of contract. The paperback of Terminal Peace comes out this year, but for the first time in about 15 years, I don’t have the security, the luxury, or the deadlines of a signed contract. In some ways, this is freeing: I can write whatever I want. But there’s no guarantee as to when things will see print. Submitting to the traditional publishers is a long, slow process…

From talking to other writers who’ve been doing this a while, I’ve learned that pretty much every career has its ups and downs. Personal, pandemic, and publisher issues have been a bit of a perfect storm for me these past few years, but I’m not going anywhere. After 27 years as a writer, I’m excited to see what comes next.

Wrap Up:

I hope this has been helpful. As always, feel free to share the post and/or ask questions.

[wheeboo]

lunch | lee seokmin

SYNOPSIS. in which seokmin surprises you with lunch. PAIRING. lee seokmin x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of food WORD COUNT. 1.01k

booseoksoon ‘second wind’ track 01: fighting!  track 02: now playing ‘lunch’ track 03: 7pm

"Yeah, I'll have the revision done by the end of the day,” You tell your team leader, who hums slightly impatiently in acknowledgement before walking away, leaving you to sigh heavily at your cubicle. You were nearly halfway into your shift and don't know how the hell you will make it by the end. Work has swamped you up entirely; if it was possible to leave, you would have done so by now.

You had been scheduled to work for the past four days without any sort of break, and you try to make your exhaustion obvious as if it was going to help you be let out early. Yeah, at this point you're just making a fool of yourself by doing so.

Fortunately, your lunch break starts in ten minutes.

Another low, irritated groan leaves your lips as you pick your head back up, scooting your chair in and stretching your limbs. Maybe you should make the next ten minutes worth of your time.

However just as you were about to type, your phone vibrates on the desk. You quickly switch your attention to it, eyes lighting up to a few message notifications sent from your beloved boyfriend.

[seok 🌞] good afternoon sunshine ! how has your day been going? your lunch break is soon right?

[y/n 🤍] i've been cooped up all day in this stupid cubicle. and my break is soon! why?

[seok 🌞] just wondering 😊 gotta make sure my baby is eating. i'm sorry you've been stressed lately. anything i can do to make you feel better?

[y/n 🤍] it's okay seok, i just miss your face that's all

[seok 🌞] i miss your pretty face too love. but don't worry, you'll get to see me soon 😍

You cheekily shake your head to his messages, sending a quick i'll see you soon i love you before switching your attention back to your computer. Somehow you manage to get some work done before picking your gaze up to notice your other co-workers making their way down to the lunch area. You quickly press save to your work and dismiss yourself away from the contraints of your cubicle, finally eager to satisfy your stomach.

Heading down to the first floor, you linger in the lunch line impatiently, practically salivating and a jump to your feet to the thought of restoring your energy with food.

That is, until a tap at your shoulder from behind startles you.

"Y/N, isn't that your boyfriend over there?" Your fellow co-worker asks you.

"Huh?" You turn around rapidly, before finally letting your eyes fall to the entrance of the building.

Seokmin is standing in the middle of the large entryway, sunlight pouring in from the windows and making his sun-kissed skin glow like the literal sun. He had a bag in his hand and the other a small bouquet of flowers. The sight slithers a flush of pink down your cheeks as you let yourself out of the line and slowly make your way towards him, mouth dropped down to the floor.

"Seok, what are you doing here?" You ask him.

He gentlemanly offers you the bouquet of flowers, bowing his head down as if he were a knight. "A special lunch delivery service to the royal majesty?"

You didn't know if you should feel endeared or embarrassed since your own co-workers were watching you. Maybe it was a mixture of both, moreso on the endeared part, of course. And yet people still say that chivalry is dead when your own boyfriend is living proof.

Taking in the bouquet in your hands, you give it a quick whiff. "These smell lovely, Seok." Your eyes gaze down to the bag in his hands. "And you brought me lunch?"

"Yep! From your go-to lunch place across the street, and a little cake from a new bakery that just opened when I left the company earlier," He holds the bag up in the air. "I know you've been so caught up in work lately so I wanted to spend some time with you and help you de-stress."

"Seeing you here already makes me feel less stressed," You sigh, reaching over to grab his hand into yours and squeezing thankfully. "Thank you."

"Anything for you." Seokmin presses a kiss to your forehead, smiling down at you fondly. The crinkle in his eyes makes your heart leap. "Now, come on, let's eat together."

He drags you to the first table he sees in the lunch area, picking the one in the corner and closest to the window to admire the lively city outside. At the corner of your eyes you notice some of your co-workers peering in your direction, not sure if they were whispering about you or not. But you didn't care, and neither did Seokmin. Quality time was something the two of you shared between each other; nothing could get in the way of those moments.

The two of you cherish the limited time of your break together, catching up together as if you have been separated for ages despite living together. It reminded you of the early days of your relationship with Seokmin where you were just beginning to learn about each other, and slowly but surely, falling in love. It felt cheesy. But it felt wonderful.

As your break came to an end, you walk with Seokmin back to the main entrance of the building.

"Thank you for spending lunch with me, Seok," You say, lightly rubbing some dust off his shoulders.

"Of course, sunshine," He leans in and plants a brief kiss to your lips. "I'll see you later, okay?"

You give him a nod of your head and watch as he crosses the rotating doors and into the outside world. He pauses for a moment, before turning around and offering a wave of both of his hands.

Chuckling to his antics, you give him a wave back, feeling nothing but a giddy skip in your step as you head back to your work station.

[sailtomarina]

Dramatic, that

Playlist, AO3 | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Hermione couldn’t make heads or tails of Malfoy. One moment he was making her work life a living nightmare, and then the next he stood behind her in the cafeteria line adding a bread roll here and a slice of chicken thigh there because she “didn’t eat enough.” What was he, her guardian? She hadn’t felt this amount of whiplash since, well, ever. He ran cold, then hot, then somewhere in between.

Take, for instance, when she’d been running late one morning. She must have turned off her alarm without realising it, giving herself hardly any time to splash water on her face and throw on some clothes before running through the Floo. She’s had to make do with a breath-freshening charm, and as for her hair, well, that was a lost cause. It had tumbled around her shoulders without restraint, the curls magnified after she’d fallen asleep with it wet after the shower.

She’d barely made it into the lift before the gate closed and met the now familiar eyes that so easily reflected his mood. Malfoy’s jaw had dropped, his body backing into the corner with both hands on the railings like he was afraid her hair was about to devour him whole. Rather than the expected snide comment about nests and creatures, he’d just stayed in position until they’d reached her floor.

Now here he was back to his unflappable self and questioning her methods of communication with the Centaurs–as if he had ever tried to secure a meeting with any in the past. The star-gazers were notoriously difficult to find unless one trespassed on their territory, and Hermione was not that stupid. At least, not anymore. She’d learned her lesson after Sixth Year.

“As I said before, the Quantock herd will not accept anything less than full autonomy of the indicated region and their inhabitants.”

“And as I have stated before, the Wizengamot lacks the authority to transfer ownership of lands under multiple owners, some of which are Muggle, to a single entity.” Malfoy countered. Wearing what might have been a Muggle suit if not for the large fold of the collar and how the coat trailed in the back, he almost looked like the perfect representation between the old and the new. 

She wanted to grab him by his oversized lapels and shake hard enough to make teeth clack. He kept his hair shorter lately, so there was no slicked back style to send into disarray.

The remainder of the session passed quickly once it was clear she’d have to revise her proposal yet again. Her next attempt would need to be fully armoured and ready to batter down any opposition.

The very next morning, Hermione arrived at her desk to find a deep crimson flower in a small vase. 

Rebecca’s lips curved upward when she noticed it in the middle of her delivery of messages and mail. “Dramatic, that.”

“Is it?” She’d thought the offering the exact opposite of dramatic. While, yes, the long train of blossoms reached upward as if asking for attention, the single stem seemed humble enough.

“It’s a gladiolus.”

At Hermione’s blank look, her assistant gestured along the length of the flower.

“Sometimes called ‘little sword’. I’m sure you can see why.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “It’s striking. I take it to mean something equally cutting? A strike to the heart, perhaps?”

“Right in one!” Rebecca replied with a mock stab and wink. “Cut anyone down to size lately?”

“Not to anyone who’d send me flowers. Curses would be the more appropriate response.” Hermione scowled at the elaborate signature on one particular memo. It was just like Malfoy to sign off with a flair unbefitting the subject matter.

As the door clicked shut and blessed silence fell into place, she took deep pleasure in slashing the thick paper with a cutting spell, imagining it was the sender’s suit she was cutting to ribbons. The image of Draco Malfoy squawking in indignation as he stood shirtless before their peers and elders brought a smile to her face…until she recalled the breath of his shoulders and how well he’d filled out those same suits over the years. 

She gave herself a vigorous shake and sat down. There was no time for that. She had a mountain of work and not enough hours in the day to entertain much else.

Still, Hermione took a short moment to appreciate the vase once more. It really was the perfect shade of green, reminiscent of seafoam. A thin line of gold curled around the slightly flared rim. She leaned closer in inspection. That wasn’t real gold was it?

Of course not. That would be dramatic.

The luminescent sheen repeatedly caught her eye throughout the day, and Hemione found herself frequently losing track of a given task as she stared at the ascending scarlet and its vessel. At the twelfth instance of distraction, she gave up.

There was one way to satisfy her curiosity.

Ever since Hermione had first started receiving questionable mail as far back as Fourth Year, she’d learned all manner of detection spells. The most common of them checked for harmful substances and would have already been conducted by Rebecca. However, Hermione had a couple of others up her sleeve she wanted to try.

The first attempt resulted in nothing new. The spell was supposed to pick up any remnants that might indicate the sender’s identity, but all it relayed was herself and Rebecca. She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or relieved at the lack of additional information. Whoever it was took great care to hide all traces of themselves. On one hand, Hermione hated not knowing the answer to her question, but, on the other hand, what would knowing do in this particular case? Would she feel obligated to reciprocate?

Her second attempt revealed the vase to be even more valuable than she’d suspected. Not only did real gold line the rim, but the glass had been manipulated by dragon fire. But how could that be? The tamest dragons she’d come across were those born and raised within sanctuaries, but even then, they weren’t ‘tame’ in the typical sense of the word. ‘Appeased’ would be more accurate.

Mysteries layered upon mysteries. She could chase the crumbs, perhaps ask Charlie Weasley if he knew of any glassmakers who might use dragon fire.

Or, she could accept the gift and continue her work knowing someone out there was in her corner, supporting her every step of the way. The Wizengamot and Draco Malfoy could sock her in the eye all they wanted; she’d simply bleed out the swelling and keep on punching.

Written for the @hp-flowers week 2 prompt: gladiolus

1107 wc

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3 (MarinaJune)

[ladysomething]

I’ll be honest, I have been waiting all day for that snippet to be revolved BUT if I trust anything it’s your writing and sayianwitcher so I’m sure it’s going to be amazing when we get a whole extra chapter for it!!!!!

Do you know if we will wait another fortnight after next week? I’m probably asking too much but I’m so excited for rock bottom, which is something I never thought I’d say!

I've been waiting for you guys to read that section, but to be honest, @saiyanwitcher was right. it does deserve it's own moment, not just as an addition to what was already in ch 15.

and I don't think you will have to wait an extra week. my plan had been to post ch 15 today, and then the original ch 16 in a fortnight. so now instead you'll get ch 15 today, the new ch 16 next week, and then the new ch 17 in a fortnight. so basically just an extra chapter slotted in the middle!

at least that's the plan - I'm going to revise the new ch 16 and add a bit more to it, but I don't think that will take too long. hopefully!

[hourglassfish]

On Season 1, Episode 7 : Part Two : I Know You’ll Be Listening: Marcus, McDonalds and Freedom

Gonna talk about my fave episode! Sheridan. It’s got some of my favourite music in it – and there’s a catching of breath after lots and lots of change, which gives you time to see characters relax, and have them show you who they are when not in a crisis, to hear them reflect a little, and to get sense of who they might want to be, and where they’ve come from.

It also develops the triangle of Marcus / Sydney / Carmy. Now when I say triangle here, I’m not talking about a love corner! This is a sydcarmy safe space, but I am interested in their work dynamics! Some of the most beautiful moments of the entire season happen when these three are in flow together, and they are united by food as artistic expression.

They are unique in this.  Tina is more skill focused and analytic – Science Baby! – she likes upskilling, her game improving, doing things the right way. Sweeps is about his money, when they budget for the restaurant he immediately backs Tina up about their pay ‘she’s right about that Jefferson’, and he sits with Nat and Richie post apology, doubling down on the fact the restaurant needs to work, that all the workers are invested in that. Ebra’s relationship with food is a tangible connection to home – he cooks Suqaar, his memories of Somalia are never far from his dialogue. It roots him in two places at the same time, a delicate dance that all immigrants are constantly learning, re learning and revising the steps to. Richie’s relationship with food is concerned with people, place and tradition – beef has been cooked here like this since before you were born, people loved the spaghetti and you can’t get the recipe, a very clear sense of hot dogs NOT coming with ketchup (which is very Chicago, if I recall correctly).

But for these three? It’s a practice of freedom. At it's best, that's what creative expression is, it's freedom, and its why we fight for it so very hard. Let's get into it.

The episode starts with the building literally falling down around their ears – gas, electricity, plumbing – it’s all out. Look at Syd and Marcus's faces when the toilet blows up, I love it when these two react to something together -

Even within that, we see pops of joy for all of them – Marcus enthusiastically enthusing about his book, Sydney gently pitching a new dish, Carmy teaching – tape, roasted onions, his mom’s chicken.

When the fuse blows, Carmy is in the middle of dealing with the ghosts of the Beef – drug deals and the spectre of financial ruin, Covid and his own absence, addiction and Michael, Michael, Michael. Marcus is frantically trying to catch up with work, having gotten a little lost in his donuts (Carmy warns him about this repeatedly, he’s permissive, but he can see it’s becoming a problem). Sydney is my perfect daughter who never does anything wrong (HAH) so she is innocuously cooking a risotto which will lead to big problems later.

But it dictates where they all go in this next episode – Carmy is back enmeshed with his family, and in problem solving mode, so off he goes to Nat’s with Richie to be called a soft shitty bitch (😭 he does get a hug for going Al anon though). Marcus messes up, sulks a little, then is pulled back in (he’s deeply sensitive, and as we learn from season 2 and all he is carrying with his mum, vulnerable. He’s maybe the youngest team member?). But Sydney stays in her flow state, and it enhances her work, opens her creativity, and keeps her focused.

Sheridan clearly meant so much to her. She lost everything, and still lives surrounded by the boxes of it. One of the most poignant moments of her season comes when she stokes the fire for their makeshift post-gas, post-electricity BBQ and for a moment flashes back to some gorgeous prawns, cooking on a similar fire. She looks like she’s about to cry. When she serves food to people who she can see eat and enjoy it later that episode, we see her biggest grin – we won’t see her grin that big again until Sugar calls her a genius in Omelette. So much of being a line cook is being in a kitchen, alienated from your labour separated from the joy that what you’recooking brings to those who are eating it. The praise and enjoyment of what she’s created is a big motivator for her, as it would be for anyone, and this  goes someway to explaining why she doesn’t want a dish she thinks is delicious (should have given Carm the one with the ribbon of brine babes) to not be eaten by someone.

If we hop back across to Marcus in this episode, we get some of Carmy being an excellent boss (that’s my boy!!!) – his conversation with Marcus (who appears to just be moping outside while the others work… young man get it together) is really beautiful. He’s curious. Not only does he ask him how he is, he really listens when Marcus talks about McDonalds, gets down on his level, does his very intense staring thing: he wants to understand where Marcus is coming from. He resists narratives of blame and fault – the job’s insane and  fuck ups happen. But he is also clear about the bottom line (you gotta stay ahead of your work, that’s just that). He doubles down on the moment of empathy and connection by sharing a story of his own failures after a huge success. Marcus goes back to work with a huge grin on his face. For me, it’s as beautiful and important a conversation as the talk between Syd and Carmy in Brigade, another affirmation that The Beef can be different from all the other places they’ve been at.

This episode has a really beautiful symmetry to its narrative structure, so we later return to the three of them in the kitchen – Marcus quietly labelling up his eggs, with the neat lines Carmy favours (Wilco sings ‘I know you’ll be listening’), and Carmy and Syd cooking together (that prawn stock business looked wild delicious) and really talking and listening.

I used to work at a purveyor of moderately priced soaps. And the soaps are quite hippyish, but their business model is not, and it always felt like a contradiction, until I met their owners, who spoke about their business going bust in the 90s. They’re a huge global brand now, but losing that small, postal based service was clearly something that they carried with them, decades later. It is, like any grief, something that informs many of their decisions, for better or worse, especially because they parted ways with another brand where they felt stifled, to set up their own thing, centring their values. I think about them a lot when I think about Syd, and my own business.

It is not lost on me that Syd talks here about money – getting too big too fast, fucked credit,  bad decisions. The bad credit especially sticks with me, because that shit traps you. Makes renting, or making significant purchases hard, makes starting another business impossible – a bunch of doors shut and they don’t reopen for years, and you are reminded of it constantly. It puts all her creativity in a box – the same way that the mechanical efficiency of Mc Donald’s inhibits what we are to learn is a prodigious talent in Marcus, out of sight. That failure is always there for her, and I think it’s why she is so quick to look at where the Bear is haemorrhaging money and want to find solutions. There is a chance here. She grabs it. She will give all her learning in exchange for that outlet.

PAUSE

The moment when Syd says ‘it was the first time I didn’t have a complete and utter psychopath behind me screaming and pushing and yelling’ and then they cut to Carm stood behind her is SO MEAN, it makes me CHORTLE every time, girl he’s RIGHT THERE! I know they were laughing in the edit when they put this bit together.

When she speaks about her failure, his response is ‘Heard’ – I don’t think he really knows how to respond – like… has  Carmy ever failed? Syd’s face does a weird little thing when he says that. Heard. Listened? Does he really get the depth of loss for her? Has he ever experienced that kind of freedom in a kitchen? Cus if he hasn’t maybe he can’t really understand what it is to lose it. Maybe you can’t know that loss util you experience it. Carmy always knew The Beef was there. Was always trying to get back to it, had it as a north star. But Sydney built her own and then lost it, and it was her own fault*.

That being said, she does still ask him for help in this scene. It’s a clear progression in her letting her walls down after the veal stock fiasco of Brigade. Wilco comes in again –

This is what love is for To be out of place Gorgeous and alone Face to face With no larger problems That need to be erased Nothing more important Than to know someone's listening Now, I know you'll be listening

– these three have connected here, and are starting to build the bonds that are going to send Marcus on Carmy’s pilgrimage to Copenhagen. The Michael starts in this quiet moment.

But listening - hearing, retaining, actioning, bearing it all in mind - is the centre of this bond, and it fractures quickly when they stop doing that. They're still getting to know each other. Relationships in their infancy.

I think these moments – this episode – are important when we think about what happens in Episode 7, who quits and why. Not only are these the two newest recruits to the Bear, they’re also the two with the least connection to Michael, and emotional relationships with Carmy that are not haunted by his ghost. They’ve been Carmy’s quickest and most loyal supporters up until this point, and there is a clear sense of betrayal communicated during Review from all three. It feels like there was a shared understanding that Marcus’s creativity would be appreciated (that’s why he puts so very much into it) - that it would be different. But when he achieves his goal, one he has slept on the floor of The Beef for, it is met with aggression and destruction. There was an understanding that Syd walked away from kitchens because of the shouting pyscho, and Carmy is the only reason she has walked back. But it's a hard boundary for her, and Carmy regresses to that in a crisis. Carm has invested a lot of trust in these two, and feels betrayed, personally (why are you fucking with me x 4) by Marcus’s perceived lack of focus (he warned him) during said crisis and by risotto gate, as well as Syd’s leaving (what are you doing x4).

The Beef is not just a job for any of the characters, they all really care about it – but there is something specific about creative expression – the way in which it is the movement of the universe through you as a vessel, its uniquely human quality, the way it leaves shards of your soul littered throughout the world that is very specific, and I think Syd and Marcus both feel punished for their creativity here, but, more importantly, they both know it’s worth – and that’s a huge part of why they leave. They are giving more than labour, and they value it accordingly. As they should. I will keep saying it, again and again - I am glad they both leave, that they reject dysfunction and abuse. More importantly, I am glad that the show supports their decision - we don't see them apologise to Carmen because the writers frame his behaviour as not OK, in numerous ways. This framing is a part of the optimism The Bear, this belief that things can - and should - be better for it's workers.

It is not lost on me that the same people that wrote this episode are now on strike, and come from another industry that we know to be riddled with abuses. Some of us (me) know this from experience.

We should talk about risotto next.

This is part of a five part series! You can find the rest here:

Expect More: Syd and Carmy's relationship,

I know you'll be listening: Marcus, McDonald's and Freedom

Risottogate

Hiring New Fucking Broads: Syd, Richie and conflict;

"That's Not You" The Moment Syd Walks Out

*in hindsight, this scene is a paralell to the moment in Pasta when they speak about the Michelin star call at Carmy's place. I think Sydney hears Carmy's dread, but I'm not convinced she's really listening, or connecting that with his 'trapped' from the previous episode's business pitch to Jimmy. These two, eh? It's not their fault they're in a TV show, but I wish they'd ask more follow up questions.

[presidenthades]

I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 7!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

If I had to pick a favorite chapter to write, it’s this one. It’s the first post-time skip chapter, so we get to behold all the children (now young adults) in full horny mood.

Also, Alyssa develops a personality, and BOY is it a personality. I originally planned to make her a female version of Aegon III, who is very quiet, but it occurred to me that a hellion would be more fun (and torturous for Daemon, which is the real goal in this fic).

Aegon and Aemond are supposed to return directly to King’s Landing and wait with their family to receive the Dragonstone party, but Aegon decided he couldn’t wait to see Jace again and Aemond only required mild convincing to go along. And yes, the boys took a bath first in some river so they look nice and groomed~

One of Jace’s biggest character quirks is anxiety. She has ALL the anxiety. Comes with being an eldest sibling and second in line for the throne. I don’t consider her shallow, but she perceives her appearance as an important part of her political and social toolkit because the society they live in puts a lot of stock in appearances, especially women’s. So she’s finicky about looking the right part for every occasion. (Also she wants to look nice for her husband whom she hasn’t seen in three years, nothing wrong with that.)

I made Luce a knitter, partly because I’m a knitter and I like incorporating my interests, and partly because I wanted to give her a textile craft that wasn’t embroidery. I hope I’m not being too biased when I say that in this era, knitted products (like socks) are more useful than embroidered products (like fancy handkerchiefs). The practical value of knitting, and it being an acceptable craft for ladies even if it’s not as popular as embroidery, seemed fitting for Luce, who isn’t super conventional but also not a complete rebel. I also really like the imagery of her sending flowery socks to the Stepstones for Aegon and Aemond and Grandpa Corlys to wear.

Daemon is fit for his age, but he’s in his 40s and he’s got a lot of old battle wounds, so chasing around toddlers is fairly strenuous. Also, toddlers are FAST. Alyssa is closer to three than two, and she’s spent her entire life trying to keep up with her older sisters, so she’s got a fairly good sense of balance and isn’t stumbling around as much.

“Pretty girl” is 100% Aegon’s pet name for Jace, and I’m using it gratuitously in one of the sequel fics, which is Jace and Aegon-centric. (I’ll have an update soon on what I’m writing next, but I’ve decided to break down the epic longfic idea into multiple, more manageable mid-length fics.)

Aemond thinks Alyssa is spooked by his eyepatch and scar at first, but she’s actually falling in love at first sight. 😂 She’s got heterochromia so she probably *likes* that his eyes aren’t symmetrical either.

Aegon and Aemond are no longer afraid of Daemon! They’ve seen a lot of shit in the Stepstones, so their middle-aged uncle seems like less of a big deal now. Poor Daemon.

Aegon and Aemond are currently 18 and 16, so I made their stomachs black holes like most teenaged boys. They also have been eating a lot of rations at the Stepstones, even as royal princes, so a “plain” meal at Dragonstone seems awesome.

I have nothing to say about the melons, except that I’m very sorry for Lucera 🥲

Idk why but there’s something about Jace being very dutiful and proper that attracts messy rebels like Aegon and Baela. Opposites attracting, maybe? Kinda like how Luce is on the wilder side but Aemond is super put-together. I’ve thought about a crackish scenario where Viserys messes things up (as usual) and betroths Jace/Aemond and Luce/Aegon. I think Jace and Aemond would get bored with each other while Luce and Aegon might accidentally kill each other.

Jace and Aegon know their siblings are being stupid about their feelings for each other. Jace tries not to meddle (she doesn’t like it when Daemon meddles so she resists the urge), and Aegon makes fun of Aemond in the half-hearted hope it’ll goad Aemond into doing something.

I like to imagine that Luce eventually invents double-entry accounting in this universe. I also think she’s a big fan of the abacus, which is a more visual way of keeping track of numbers. She also likes charts and graphs in general.

The three dragonglass daggers that Luce orders from the blacksmith are for her, Jace, and Joff. (Luce loves all her sisters, but she has a special place in her heart for the three of them who are full-blooded sisters.) Purple for Jace (royal color for the future queen), green for Luce (like the sea and Velaryon colors), red for Joff (Targaryen color, nice and bloody). She isn’t expecting her sisters to use them as weapons; she wanted to make a gesture before Jace’s official wedding, since it marks a huge change in their lives.

I keep describing Luce and Aemond’s relationship in this fic as Pride and Prejudice-esque, and I stand by it. Miscommunication, ego issues, awkward flirting, a failed first proposal. One commenter described Daemon as the anti-Mrs Bennet, trying his best NOT to let the girls marry. 😂 And if we keep the analogy going, Clement Celtigar is Mr Collins while Otto is the closest thing we have to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

I established in the beginning that Daemon is very bad with feelings. This scene where he tries to comfort Baela is part of his character arc and emotional growth, but he stumbles a few times more before the end of the fic.

I am very pleased that so many readers pinpointed Joff/Daeron as black cat and golden retriever energy, because I was definitely going for that. Daeron spews a lot of word vomit in his one line of dialogue, but you might notice he mentions “I got that thing you really wanted.” See the final scene in Chapter 11 for “that thing.” 👀

Jace is making PR a priority in her reign (and before her reign). She’s observed how loyal the Dragonstone smallfolk are to the Targaryens and wants to spread that loyalty to the realm’s smallfolk in general. This is why she and Aegon do the flight into the city, and why she has her Princess Diana moment on the way to the wedding.

Chapter 8 commentary here

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Chapter Fifteen: Package From Uncle Jack

“I smelled what I smelled,” Penny said the next morning, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror as she styled her hair.

Sirius had brought up her reaction to the Amortentia the day before; if he was going to test it on her, he needed to add the scents that would attract her specifically. Her answer had both stunned him yet not surprised him; it was rather clear by now that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. Any other time he would’ve acted on it without a second thought, and perhaps he would still, but that would mean having a realistic conversation. One which he was not yet ready to have with everything else on his mind.

“Right. Ink, I understand, even leather, but burning dry leaves?”

“I love that smell,” she mumbled to herself, setting her brush down and sliding her glasses back onto her nose. She picked up a lipstick off her vanity and slowly began to spread it over her lips — a ruby red color that drew his eyes to them like a dog to a hydrant. “It reminds me of the Fall back home.” She pressed her lips together in an effort to even out the color. “People rake all the leaves that fall from the trees into a pile at the edge of their driveway, and then burn them.”

“Right,” he replied. “But it’s not Fall yet, we’re still in the Summer. Where would we get a fallen leaf?”

An aging charm was something he had not come across in his revision over the last few weeks. However, he did remember a potion that might do the trick, though there was little time to send Penny back to the Owl Post to order more ingredients.

“There’s gotta be a way we can just, you know, dry a leaf,” she replied, letting out a breath and turning on the balls of her feet to face him. “Well?” She put her arms out at her side, glancing down at herself. “Do I look okay?”

Her dress was white on top, with short sleeves and a V neck with three buttons in the center. Below her bust the fitted dress was red and white polka dots, which loosened at the waist and fell down to the middle of her shins. She wore short black and white heels on her feet.

She looked more beautiful than anything he had ever laid his eyes on. Inhaling slowly, he took in her scent again, the lovely, divine aroma of Maplewood and peaches… and something else… copper?

The corner of his lips curled upward as he answered, “You look much better than just okay.”

“Yeah, but do I look like I know what I’m talking about?”

Snorting softly, he pushed off of the door frame and put his hands on her shoulders. “Yes. Stop worrying. It’s like I said last night, and you did as well, you’ve been working on this… dissertation —”

“Yes!”

“— for years. All you have to do now is present your work, which I believe you could do in your sleep.”

“Yeah,” Penny whispered to herself, seeming to gain a bit of confidence as she added, “Yeah, you’re right. I got this.”

“You do,” he agreed.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Oh no, no, no, no!” Her hands went to his chest, gently pushing him into the hall before she closed the door abruptly.

“Penelope, what?”

There was rustling on the other side of the door, then the sound of the toilet lid being lifted. She let out an exhale, and opened a drawer.

“Penelope…”

“Just a second!” she called out. There was some more rustling before she opened the door and turned to wash her hands in the sink, her brows pulled together slightly.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, taking a small step closer and leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, it’s just… cramps. No big deal.”

Sirius nodded once in understanding, his eyes lowering to her stomach. “Have you taken anything to help with the pain?”

“I ran out, but it’s okay. I’ll just have to deal with it,” she replied, gently waving him off after she’d dried her hands.

Stepping closer to her, Sirius took her hands into his and slowly knelt in front of her.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

Smirking up at her, he brought one of his hands to her lower belly and whispered, “Leniens.”

The micro muscles in her face instantly relaxed. She glanced down to where his hand was, then back at him. “You didn’t even use the wand.”

He smiled back at her, standing up after a moment. “As my wandless magic gets stronger, I’ve had to use it less and less for some things. Is the pain gone?”

Still smiling at him, she nodded.

“Good. Now you can concentrate on what you need to do,” he replied.

“No magic spell to do it for me, huh?”

“Let’s hope so. The last thing I wanna hear is an I told you so from my mother,” she mumbled to herself.

"You'll be great."

Sirius snorted. “No, I’m afraid not. But you’ll do beautifully. I know you will.”

It had been nearly twenty years since Padfoot had set foot on a school campus, and he never imagined it would be at a muggle university. He laid outside a tall oak door, waiting patiently for Penny to emerge from inside. The summer heat was beginning to give way for the approaching fall season, with only one week left before September. The days were still hot, but the shade offered a lovely breeze that made the outdoors tolerable.

Most of the students who walked past him seemed to ignore his presence. Very few would stop and pet him, but he was perfectly fine with being left alone for the most part. It gave him time to plan out the rest of his day; he decided to take Penny up on her suggestion to test the potion he’d brewed. Theoretically, he could have a chocolate ready for testing by the evening, and if it worked, he would have the rest of the week to brew another for Wormtail. If it didn’t work, he would only have a few days to work it out if he was to make another brew in time for the start of term, otherwise he would need to think of something else.

Before he could think on it much further, the heavy door creaked open, Penny emerging from the other side. Wordlessly, she went to untie Padfoot’s lead from the bike rack she had tied it to, waiting for him to stand and walk beside her.

His eyes were focused on her as they walked briskly back toward her car, bouncing anxiously on his front paws, as though he were trying to get her attention. But she continued to look straight ahead, her legs moving swiftly down the pathway that led away from the campus. She smelled of shock and nerves and something else that had a tangy note, which he couldn’t decipher. Padfoot whined, nudging her with his snout and finally gaining her attention.

She stopped walking and took several deep breaths before looking back at him. A hint of a smile curled at her lips as she pondered aloud, “I wonder if I can change the name on my driver’s license to Doctor Penelope Mitchell.”

Padfoot launched himself straight into the air, jumping with joy for her and making her laugh. His tail whipped back and forth as they continued their walk to her car and as soon as they were inside, he licked over her face again and again, his way of congratulating her in the moment. He would do so again when it was safe for him to be in his human form, but for now, he wanted her to know how happy he was for her. Although they hadn’t known each other for long, he had a fair idea as to how hard she worked toward this moment, and that not every person in her life was very supportive of it.

“Thanks,” she said in a giggle, petting his neck as she took another breath. “I still can’t believe it. I… I did it. I finished.” Her face fell, eyes widening slightly. “Holy shit, I finished.”

Well done! Padfoot barked.

Letting out one last breath, she started the car and pulled onto the road, driving them back to her flat while she rattled off all of the things she had to do now that she had finished her education. It sounded like quite a bit, but with each word she spoke, Padfoot could sense her excitement and hope for the future, and he wished more than anything that he could be there to see it.

“There is one expedition that I know for a fact is looking for a historian, but they aren’t set to leave for months. The question is, will they accept one with such little field experience. I mean the only research I’ve done are things I’ve decided to research on my own. Nothing official,” she said as she parked the car.

Outside her front door was a brown package, which Penny picked up immediately, turning it to look at the name on the package.

“Oh! From Uncle Jack,” she said, holding the package in one arm like a child before she went to unlock the door with her free hand.

When they got inside and she shut the curtains, he transformed and scooped her up into his arms, hugging her tightly and twirling her in a circle. Penny laughed, her arms snug around his shoulders as he put her down and pulled away to look at her.

“Congratulations. I know how much that meant to you,” he said, his hands still on her waist.

“Thanks,” she answered, smiling up at him. “Of course now I have to actually publish it, and then put my degree to good use.”

“I have no doubt you will,” he answered.

Biting her bottom lip, she lowered her hands from his shoulders and turned to pick up the package her uncle had sent. Placing it on the sofa, she opened it and pulled out three more books.

“Oh my God, they’re heavy. I don’t know if any of these will help you, but I’m certainly excited about them,” Penny said with a grin as she looked at the different titles, handing them to him one by one.

Uncle Jack had sent Olde and Forgotten Bewitchment and Charmes, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Three books that would no doubt serve Penny’s purposes as well as his own. Sirius also couldn't help but notice that these books would serve to keep Penny safe once she read them. Even as a muggle, there were still certain precautions she could take to keep herself guarded from evil forces or Ministry officials who would seek to have her memory wiped. He would need to make sure she read them before he left for Scotland.

Sirius opened up Olde and Forgotten Bewitchment and Charmes hoping to find an aging charm as Penny read the accompanying letter out loud.

Dearest Penelope,

Here are three more books, which will hopefully aid you in your studies. I hope they can be useful additions to your personal library. Your Uncle Frank and I are very proud of you.

With love,

Uncle Jack

Penny looked up at Sirius. “Anything useful?”

Nodding gently, Sirius closed the book in his hands and looked back at her. “I now know how I can dry a leaf so that we can test that solution.”

“Sweet,” she answered, taking the empty box into the kitchen.

“If we’re going to do this, I’ll need time to make another batch for Wormtail,” he said, going into the kitchen after her. “We’ll have to test this tonight.”

Penny was about to answer when her phone began to ring. She walked back to the sitting room to answer, turning to Sirius as she said, “If you want, while you’re making the chocolate, I can look through these books for an alternative. Just in case it doesn’t work, you know?” She picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Her eyes rolled as she forced a smile on her face.

“Hey mom. Yeah, I was gonna call you later. You are now speaking to Dr Penelope Mitchell!”

The smile fell from her face, shoulders slumping subtly as she sat on the sofa.

Sirius made himself busy in the kitchen, not wanting to seem as though he was eavesdropping, but wanting so much to take the phone and tell her mother what a brilliant daughter she had. It broke his heart that her own mother seemed to fail to see that.

Opening the cabinet beside the sink, he reached to the back and pulled out the vial with the solution he’d brewed and set it on the counter. After he took out a pot, he went into her study to take the bottle of ink he’d transfigured a few days prior and brought that into the kitchen.

“Yeah, she emailed me last week about it. That’s great! I’m so happy for her,” Penny said, now sprawled over the sofa, her head against the back of it and legs stretched out on the coffee table. “Yeah, probably not, mom.” There was a pause. “Because after I publish my paper, I’m going to be looking for another job, I’m not gonna have time for it. Besides, he seemed to have trouble understanding the word, no.”

Another pause.

“Yeah, he showed up at the library a couple days ago with flowers, it was weird.”

Sirius stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder at her, arching a brow. Was she talking about that bloke that called her some time ago? What was his name? Nicholas?

“Well, I thought it was weird. Freaked me out,” Penny said, sighing heavily. The next moment, a warm smile appeared on her face. “Hey dad. Thanks, I can’t believe it either.”

Smiling softly to himself, Sirius went to the back door, and opened it, transforming into Padfoot and running out into the back yard. For a moment he forgot why he was there in the first place, getting distracted by a rabbit that hopped quickly toward the back fence. As soon as the small animal disappeared behind the wide wooden panels, he turned to the only tree in the yard, looking for a branch that was low enough for him to break off some of the leaves. The closest was one that appeared to bow toward the ground slightly, and Padfoot jumped as high as he could, missing the leaves by inches.

He continued to try, jumping again and again, desperately trying to gain more height with each leap, but never managing to do more than scrape the edges of the greens with his teeth.

“What are you doing?”

He turned his head as Penny walked toward him and barked, glancing at the leaves again.

“Oh…” She reached up and broke off one of the thinnest stems with a few leaves on it. “Is that enough?”

Yes, Padfoot barked, following her back inside and transforming as soon as he passed through the threshold.

“Thank you,” he said, slightly out of breath. “I used to be able to jump higher than that.”

“Not a young dog anymore, huh?” she teased.

“Ha-ha,” he replied, smiling back at her. “Do you have anything leather?”

Penny lowered her eyes in thought. “Actually, yeah.”

Brushing past him, she walked down the hall to her bedroom while Sirius brought the stem of leaves to the counter and set it down beside the ink.

“I actually want to use this, is the only thing,” Penny said as she came back to the kitchen with a brown, leather shoulder bag wrapped in her arms.

“That’s alright, I’ll only need a small bit,” he assured her.

“What do you need it for?”

“If I’m going to test this out,” he gestured to the vial on the counter. “I need to add a bit of each thing you smelled in the smoke.”

“You’re gonna put all that in chocolate?!”

“Yes,” he replied.

Penny grimaced as he pulled out his wand and used it to cut a small piece off of the strap. “I wont get sick when I eat it, will I?”

“Of course not,” he assured her with a smirk. “I just need to get their scents into the solution before infusing it into the chocolate.”

Her brows shot up above her eyes. “Okie dokie. I’m… just gonna run to the corner store and grab a paper. Do you need anything?”

“I don’t believe so,” he replied, turning on the stove to heat the pot. Turning to face her, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that git showed up at the library?”

Penny shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“How did he even know where you worked?”

“I guess my mom must’ve mentioned it at some point,” she replied.

“Bloody wanker,” Sirius mumbled, turning back to his task and trying not to grimace.

“That’s pretty much what I said.”

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips as he placed the ink and leather into the heated pot. Taking out his wand, he used the charm he’d found in the book Uncle Jack had sent over, waving his wand over the leaves. In an instant, they all went from a bold green to red and orange. He put those into the pot as well and set the glass vial with the solution in the center, pulling off the stopper. Then he waved his wand over it and covered the pot.

“Right, that should start to whistle once it’s ready,” he said, putting his hair up and using his wand to hold it in place.

“How will we know it works?”

“Well, once it’s ready, I can hide it somewhere in your flat. If you find it, then I suppose that means it works,” he replied.

“Seems simple enough.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” he mumbled. Sirius had never been terribly comfortable with anything that seemed too easy, especially when the stakes were so high. That was, in part, why he suggested changing the Secret Keeper from himself to Peter all those years ago. Though considering how that had turned out, perhaps ‘easy’ would be the change that would work out in the end this time round.

While Sirius made a chocolate bar and infused the potion into it, Penny had been on the phone with quite a few different people after she returned from the corner store. First Uncle Jack, to let him know that she had received his package and thank him for it. She’d also told him her good news, which seemed to make up for the lack of enthusiasm she had apparently received from her mother. After that she called various people, none of whose names Sirius recognized — apparently there was quite a bit she needed to do in order to get her research published. Still, for as much work as seemed to go into it, Penny looked happier than he’d ever seen her, and that was well enough for him.

“That smells amazing,” Penny said, looking at him from her place on the sofa. “You have to leave me that chocolate recipe.”

Smirking to himself, Sirius placed the mold of chocolate into the freezer. “Unfortunately, the recipe I use needs magic.”

“Boo,” Penny mumbled.

He snorted softly, and went to clean the pots he’d used with a flourish of his wand. Going to sit beside her on the sofa, he picked up The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection and began to look through it. While it wasn’t likely that anyone would think to come after Penny, Sirius would feel much more comfortable leaving her if he knew she was safe. If he were to be captured and subjected to any form of legilimency, he would at least be certain there were charms and wards in place to keep her from being found. The Fidelius Charm would’ve been ideal, but for how complicated it was, he feared he wouldn’t do it right.

“They actually call it ‘The Dark Force’? Is George Lucas a wizard too?” she asked.

“Who?” Sirius replied, his eyes still scanning the index.

“The creator of Star Wars.”

“Oh.” The corner of Sirius’ lips quirked upward. “No, not that I know of. Anyway, we refer to this type of magic as dark magic. I think The Dark Forces is just the title of the book, not necessarily the term we often use,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“I assume you never stop,” Sirius replied.

“What if I asked my uncle about Hogwarts? See what he says.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Don’t you think it’s a good idea to have someone who could possibly help you get into the school?”

Sirius smirked and turned his eyes to her. “You don’t have to worry about that, Darling. You’re talking to one of the wizards who created a map of the entire school. I know many of the secret passages to the castle.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have somebody who could accompany you inside,” she said. “Plus, he can move more freely than you can.”

“I can’t ask anyone else to risk going to Azkaban for my sake,” he replied. “I appreciate that you want to help, and you have helped me. More than I could’ve ever asked for. You don’t need to do anything else.”

“I want to,” she said. “I don’t want you to go back to prison.”

The corner of his lips curled slightly. “Nor do I. I won’t get caught. No one knows that I’m an animagus, I have that to my advantage.”

“So let’s say you expose Peter… then what? Would they give you a trial? Would they just lock you both up? Or would your name be cleared?”

Sirius would have been lying if he’d said he had thought about what might happen to him after he found Peter, especially since all he wanted to do was kill him for what he’d done to James and Lily, and what he’d done to Harry. At least then he would be in Azkaban for something he actually did.

“I don’t know,” he replied, thinking she might not like what he was really thinking.

“Well, I’m gonna ask him,” Penny replied. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”

Sirius sighed heavily, turning back to the book. “I suppose there’s nothing I can say to talk you out of it.”

“Nope. Not a thing,” she replied with a satisfied smile.

“Penny, just leave it alone,” he said, turning the page.

“No, I won’t,” she replied. “For all we know, Uncle Jack knows someone who can help you clear your name so you can actually live without having to hide.”

Sirius rolled his eyes slightly. “It’s a risk.”

“So is you going to Hogwarts,” she pointed out.

“Aye, but that’s a risk worth taking, especially if it keeps my godson from harm’s way.”

“And this could help you with that too,” she argued.

He looked over at her again. “Why are you being so difficult? I have a plan —”

“A half-baked one,” she mumbled.

“That doesn’t mean I want you to be taking more risks on my behalf.”

“What’s risky about asking my uncle a simple question?”

“It’s not simple. And if you do, he might think I used magic to make you do it. What if he informs the Ministry —”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Right, but how do you know he won’t?”

“Because he’s my uncle. He’s one of the few people who has supported me and my choice of studies. He’s even helped me with them by sending me books that apparently are considered muggle contraband. Do you honestly think he won’t believe me when I tell him that I believe you’re innocent?”

“I think he’ll believe that, I just also think he’ll believe you were manipulated into believing it,” Sirius answered.

“I think you’re wrong,” Penny said.

Sighing again, Sirius shook his head. It was clear she wasn’t going to back down from this idea. “Could you at least wait until after I leave?”

“Fine.”

“And don’t tell him about me being an animagus.”

“How am I supposed to explain why you were here in the first place?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

She stared at him for what seemed like ages. “Now you’re being difficult.”

Smiling back at her, he shrugged. “Maybe I’m just being cautious.”

“I disagree. You said you trust me —”

“And I do, it has nothing to do with that,” he argued.

“Yes, it kind of does. If you trust me, then you would trust me to know what I can and can’t tell him. And if I think I can tell him something, you would know it’s because I trust that he’ll listen. He won’t go off and tell people if I ask him not to, and he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt — just like I did — if he knows the whole story.”

She stood and smoothed down her skirt before looking back at him.

“Now, I have to send an email to my friend from high school. She’s getting married. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Without another word, she walked down the hallway toward her study, leaving him to think about what she’d said. It seemed unnecessarily risky to pull someone else into the situation, especially one who wasn’t even in the country and could likely do very little if anything at all to help him. Still, if he weren’t so stubborn, he could admit that Penny was wise enough to know when it was best to stay quiet. If she thought her uncle could keep his secret, it was very likely she was right.

Ugh. He hated being wrong.

[hypnolurker]

I Will Not Suck Dick in Class

ORIGINAL IMAGE FOUND HERE

This is totally not fair! That teacher, Mr Lambert, is just out to get me! Seriously. I mean, my grades have been dropping all year and I swear I’m working just as hard and studying and stuff. He’s just doing this to mess with me, the creep.

Last week we had a test, right, and I got an F! An F! I never got an F before! I’m sure I revised all the right stuff, in fact I swear most of my answers were definitely right. I think he just marked them wrong to make me look bad. I really don’t understand what he’s got against me.

My parents believed his shit though. The reports saying I’ve been misbehaving in class. Chewing gum, swearing, flirting and distracting the male students…it’s all bullshit! Still, my parents have been yelling at me and trying to keep me in my room. Plus they give me all these talks about saving myself and not being a slut. I’m fed up of it!

Then today in class he took it too far. He had me stay after classes and write on the board “I will not suck dick in class” ten times. I wasn’t doing anything! I’m not a slut who sucks guys dicks at school! That didn’t matter though, and I had to do it to avoid yet another detention for something I didn’t do. I went to the headteacher about this but he’s even creepier than the Mr lambert! He was licking his lips throughout the conversation. I think I should contact the police…

* * *

I…I called the police and they said that if he hadn’t touched me or made any kind of proposal they couldn’t really do anything. The school-board were useless as well. As far as they are concerned Mr Lambert is a model teacher who is just trying to control an unruly student…except he’s a fucking liar!

He’s manipulating everyone…especially me! Recently he has made me stay after school more and more, writing stuff on that board. I hate him. I don’t want to do anything he says, it’s all lies. I write stuff like “I will not masturbate in class” and “I will not have inappropriate fantasies about students or members of staff”.

Worst part is…it’s affecting me. I don’t know it’s just that…everyone is treating me differently. My parents, other teachers, other students…they’re all acting as if I’m some kind of slut. As if I’m less than a normal person…filthy…disgusting…it’s creeping me out.

Like, last night I was trying to get to sleep and the words I was writing on the board wouldn’t get out of my mind. My thoughts kept wandering…thinking about the stuff I was accused of doing. I was actually imagining it. It was actually….well…it was kind of…it was getting me hot! I don’t know how but I was getting wet. All of my thoughts kept coming back to Mr Lambert…his dick…

I think I need help. My head has been swimming for a while now and I’m starting…I’m starting to get…confused. It’s getting harder to tell what the truth is. His lies…I know they’re lies…at least I think I do. I tell myself they’re just lies but then I catch myself in class, daydreaming. Having thoughts which aren’t…appropriate. There were juices on my seat. It’s not…it’s not like I meant to…I’m trying to make sense of this stuff!

* * *

Oh wow, like, I was reading my diary from a few months ago and I sounded soooooo stupid! Like I was all paranoid and scared of nice old Mr L. I had these silly ideas that I was actually smart. I can’t believe I accused him of lying about me when he’s so nice and smart and sexy…

He was just trying to help me. I see now. I was behaving like a total slut. Sucking boys dicks in the middle of class while he was trying to teach. Dressing all sexy and making it hard for the other students to learn…hehe! ‘hard’. I was so dumb thinking I was a normal girl…turns out it was because of how horny I was. I’m so glad Mr L helped me understand my urges and how I could deal with them.

Now I’m much better behaved. Mr L has me come early to class so that he can satisfy my need for cock long enough that I don’t disrupt the lesson. He lets me blow him and pussy fuck him and sometimes I even need an assfuck to stop the urges.

Then after class he fucks me again because I’m such a horny slut and I can’t keep my legs closed. Then he even helps me with my work since I don’t really know what he’s talking about in class. I think I was giving a handjob to the cute boy with the glasses when they taught this…um…al-ju-bra or whatever. It’s soooooo boring and I can’t concentrate because I’m daydreaming about Mr L’s dick, so big and hot and…well I’m just a massive slut I guess and a horny bimbo who can’t think about anything other than cock. I’m so glad I have Mr L to look after me after my parents said they’re gonna kick me out for being such a whore.

[landofzero-archive]

Nagisa Ran - Eternal Journey Chapter 2

Writer: Umeda Chitose

Season: Winter

(Location: Book room)

(That night)

Nagisa: (…… I’ve been staring at the designs Ibara gave me for so long, but…

…… This is difficult. I don’t understand the feeling of having a “Eureka moment,” as I’ve heard it referred to. 

…… Although I’ve gotten more involved in Eden’s activities, I don’t know much when it comes to outfits.

…… I thought that by filling that gap I may be able to gain some sort of understanding, so I took to books and texts for answers.

…… But I can’t find a particular reason to say I like this one. I’m unable to find a basis for my feelings.)

…… Ibara put the design in a place where it would be the first one I see, so I suppose design A was also his preferred choice. I wonder why everyone preferred design A?

…… Perhaps it’s because they all have an image or ideal of what they want to see me wear and what appearance they want me to take on?

…… Then it seems everyone has an ideal for myself, except for me? 

………

(…… I wonder if it’s better to decipher why everyone liked design A instead of choosing which costume I like.

…… Perhaps through everyone’s ideals I can better understand who I am as an idol.)

Ibara: …… Pardon me.

Nagisa: …… Ibara? What’s wrong? It’s already so late.

Ibara: I was searching for you, Your Excellency. I heard you were considering the exclusive outfits again so I wanted to hand you the updated designs for your consideration.

However, seeing the books piled high and the designs spread out on the table, I can’t help but notice His Excellency seems to be having difficulty.

If you have any concerns regarding the outfits, I can take the time and explain the reasoning for each detail and addition.

Nagisa: Fufu, I’m curious but now doesn’t seem to be the time for it. I’m pondering the reason for why everyone preferred design A.

…… Because you all think it’s the best, then that would mean it’s the design that suits me best, right?

…… However, I’m unable to understand the ideal everyone sees in this outfit. If I can sort the reason out, then perhaps it would deepen my understanding of myself.

…… Ibara wished to proceed with design A as well. Why?

Ibara: So you noticed… Well, the answer is quite simple.

Of course, any design should align with His Excellency’s image, drawing out your unique presence and charm.

However, I decided and worked on the concept for design A first, so I feel a greater fondness towards it than the other designs.

Nagisa: …… Fondness?

Ibara: In simple words, I prefer it.

With the revisions from his Highness, as well as some from myself, the design is better than before.

Please consider the improved design in your deliberation!

Nagisa: …… Of course, thank you.

(…… Hm. It’s more eye-catching than before.

…… It feels strange to be asked what I wish to wear when I stand on stage, but...

…… I like this design.)

Hiyori: Ahh~! So you two were here!

Jun: Hey, it’s the middle of the night so please quiet down.

Ibara: What’s wrong, both of you?

Hiyori: There’s nothing to do about it. Since Nagisa was considering his exclusive outfit I wanted to be right there to consult with him!

It’s such a shame Ibara beat me to it first…… Hmm?

What Nagisa-kun is looking at is… a little different from design A, correct? With my suggestions reflected in it, it’s looking so much better……♪

Jun: Ibara really is a fast worker isn’t he~. It feels like Nagi-senpai’s tough presence has increased.

Nagisa: …… Do you both like the design?

Hiyori: Yep♪ Has Nagisa-kun decided on this design too?

Nagisa: …… Just now, I honestly felt like this is the outfit I prefer the most.

…… I want to stand on stage with everyone in the exclusive outfit that you all picked for me. I’m sure that’s the “me” that I’d be most happy with.

…… No matter which costume I pick, the idol who stands on the stage will be me.

…… After all, the costume that suits and is befitting of me is different for each stage.

…… I wanted to explore my appearance, embodied by donning this exclusive outfit, on stage. Like an idol would.

Hiyori: Great, I completely agree!

Unlike when you visit ruins or geological strata, we all stand together on stage.

Nagisa: ………!

Hiyori: Whatever it is you’re after, we’ll help you find it together, Nagisa-kun.

Jun: I’ll join you on your quest too, Nagi-senpai~. We’re going to make your exclusive outfit event into a real blowout, right?

Ibara: Yes, we’ve secured quite the generous budget. I’ve waited quite some time, you know~, for this victory and business opportunity!

Now that that’s settled, please contact Anzu-san at dawn—

Nagisa: …… There it is.

Ibara: ? What is it– where did you get that from?

Nagisa: …… From my pocket. Ibara, hold out your hand.

Ibara: My hand……? Alright.

Nagisa: …… When I heard Hiyori-kun’s words–ruins and strata– something finally “clicked” in me. I want to entrust this stone to you, Ibara.

Ibara: It’s heavier than it looks. What is the name of the stone?

Nagisa: …… It’s just a nameless stone that I excavated from some ancient strata.

…… Could you incorporate this stone into my exclusive outfit? This time, I’ll leave it up to you on how to incorporate it.

Ibara: Understood! If it’s His Excellency’s wish, then this Saegusa Ibara will definitely live up to your expectations……☆

Jun: It’s rough, but it’s a pretty rock. Why do you want it in your exclusive outfit, Nagi-senpai?

Nagisa: …… The reason I went to the ruins was so I could learn about things I had yet to gain knowledge of.

…… By coming in contact with the unsolved mysteries of antiquity there, I hoped to answer the question, “What am I?”

…… So, by taking this stone I found during previous exploration with me as I head into exploration on the stage…

…… I thought I’d be able to pursue my “self” with even stronger resolve……

…… How’s that?

Hiyori: ……… (He holds Nagisa’s hand)

How wonderful! It was already the outfit that Nagisa-kun chose because he liked it, but now even your feelings can be felt through it!

I’m sure…… No– I know it will be an amazing exclusive outfit. Far beyond what we could ever imagine.

Jun: Haha, I’m getting excited too now~♪

When the four of us stand on stage together, even though it’s already done I feel like my outfit will naturally look even better.

Ibara: I’m sure we will feel a sense of completion as the stage comes together, and that it will refine how we view our outfits.

Oh, what kind of strategies will I devise for the unveiling and how will production be conducted? Ah, I can’t wait to begin☆

Nagisa: (…… Now that I’m thinking about it, whether or not there’s an exclusive outfit, I wonder if I would continue exploring on stage.

…… In any case, even more than before I want to stand up on stage in that exclusive outfit. I want to search and discover.

…… This is the first time I’ve felt such excitement in search of self-discovery. Ah, I want to know quickly. About the self that I’ve yet to discover—)

Previous | Directory

[vespersposts]

In ratio

Hi lovelies 🌟 ,

today I’m happy to celebrate an important milestone for Lily @yeosatinyngz with her event “Lights! Camera ! Action! ” which brings our best boys to glamour.

✨ Well done Lily, congratulations on 1K !✨

To celebrate you, I put my sweetheart Daiki to the test with the fashion world, because he admittedly dresses in the dark.

👨‍🎤 (sorry, not sorry D).

📍If you are curious of the final look of Aomine, here’s the reference .

(*major sigh*). I’m the same old, and the story, sfw, is a bit long (3.1K), but it’s divided into two parts so it’s easier to read.

Hope you enjoy it!

Love always,

Vesper.

💣 PS: I apologize in advance for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language (bear with me!).

➿Genre: fluff, slice of life, one shot.

🌀 3.1K

✴️A big thanks to Lily for her support and her patience, she gave me the best feedbacks and is one of the kindest person on earth!

⚠ the story was extensively revised because it contained grammatical errors and the point of view was confused. I am sorry for only being able to do this now. Thank you for your patience ⚠

“Here’s my self-birthday present ” your boss tells , sitting down next to you, as from your computer you open an email with the directions for the next photo shoot, which you are in charge of styling.

“Pretty hot, huh?” he comments, as you quickly scroll from the picture through the details sheet.

“He’s tall, if he has weird proportions it would be a huge problem, all the men’s suits this year have cropped lengths and … Wait…” you reply, scrolling through the requests up to that number “I have to contact the magazine again, there must be a typo, who wears a size 11.5 shoe?” you ask as you press the reply button under his amused gaze.

"What?” you ask, leaning back and looking at the man’s face on which a wry expression breaks out.

“Someone who plays basketball, how do you never know anything about anything?” he mocks you, taking his phone in his hands to show you the young man’s face once again, this time in a news video where he was being handed an award for best - whatever - .

“So, do you like my own birthday present ?” he urges you with a smile.

“ I do ” you admit “At least seems in ratio” you conclude with a sigh of relief.

A few blocks away, the day of the young Japanese basketball talent had also started uphill. He saw the pink haired girl sigh, standard premonitory sign of an incoming scolding.

“I don’t have to , right?” he blurted, taking the last forkful of the choco omelette he ordered for breakfast, now that he was in town for a series of interviews after the crazy week of the draft.

“Dai-chan…” she got serious, taking a sip of coffee, just to keep from screaming in the middle of the luxurious hotel’s breakfast room.

“Satsuki” he replied with a polite nod, before finding a paper under his nose with his signature on the bottom, the same paper he hadn’t read, and which imposed a series of side engagements on him, including the interview with that posh magazine.

“ What the -” he huffed, pushing the document away, returning the smile to his manager who, not satisfied with that victory, had submitted another list to him.

“ More?” he grumbled, scrolling through a list of ‘recommendations’ that sounded more like a prank.

 "What does 'seamless underwear’ mean ?“ he asked his childhood friend, who in response shrugged, pretending not to know. 

"When would this be?” he shot back, resting his face on his hand.

“Tomorrow morning, we have to be at the photo studio at 10. I managed to get the interview just before the photos, so hopefully  it will be a quick one ” she informed him, checking the schedule from her tablet “ Just… Please, try to be nice, you know how much the team sponsor values it!” she sighs, probably grateful to be able to finish her breakfast in peace.

At the conference room of the luxurious apartment building where the photo studio is located, a young man’s eyes look at you with a mixture of boredom and distress. Adrian, the photographer, is a nice guy, but he really can’t take any more of your leader’s mood boards and his tropical-sexual fantasy, with which he has been butchering everyone’s ears since the beginning of the week. The idea is dull as well as corny, but no one as usual dares to open their mouths because ’ the boss cannot be questioned’ . Too bad, you can’t take it any more, because a misstep from him would mean compromising your career as well, and that mustn’t happen, not at least until you actually have a career. As you write down the codes of dresses  worthy of the Rio de Janeiro carnival, you can’t help but think that it will be a bloody mess. Your client will go from being a sports icon to a laughing stock, assuming that once he sees the garments, he doesn’t decide to drop everything and leave you to deal with all the madness.

“With the red one from the spring/summer collection we’re done! ” the boss smiles at you, drumming his fingers on the long conference room table, increasing the pace until he has your full attention again.

“Spit it out” he tells, inviting you to take a seat next to him.

“ I don’t like it at all ” you sum up simply, not moving your eyes from his, now staring at you with interest. "He’s already flashy:  tall, huge and full of muscles. If we dress him up like a crazed rainbow, he will look even more trashy” you explain, shaking your head.

“You don’t like the vibe, you don’t like the model…Do you have a proposal, besides all these complaints?” the chief, who strangely seems to be amused, asks you seriously.

“Y-yes..Here” you tell him, opening a shared folder on his cloud account.

“I see. Your bright idea is to dress him as an accountant ” the man sneers at you, lazily flipping the preview of your selection with a finger.

“No, Phil. My way is to contrast his powerful silhouette with minimalism. I will dress him up as the most detached, filthy and unavailable man of power. That will turn him into a  sex God,  instead of a parade clown!” you reply piquantly, eliciting his hilarity.

He laughs out loud, probably at you and your impending dismissal, he laughs to the point of tears as he puts his hand on yours, and makes you jump in your chair.

“Good girl, you’ve finally learned my favourite worlds: filth,sex and power! ” he tells you with a hint of pride, flipping back your lookbook , flagging three tailored suits different only by colour.

“All right girl, you got me. Go ahead and deliver me your fucking sex God!” he smiles.

It’s nine o'clock in the morning, the morning after that briefing. You’ve been up since the night before, and all you’ve thought about since then, is what could go wrong.

“Can I help you?" someone offers, breaking your overflow.

Of that voice you can only say two things: that it is definitely a woman’s and that she is probably a foreigner, judging by her strange accent. It matters little if you cannot see her, because you have decided to bring the three outfits for your model yourself.

"Could you hold the lift door open for me, please?” you ask, getting an affirmative answer and a remark about the bulkiness of your load.

“I hope they won’t wrinkle, only I can be stupid enough not to take a coat hanger!” you grumble, oblivious to the girl’s presence, until she appreciates the brand of one of them, and you start talking about your next job.

“I know he’s a basketball player and everyone’s crazy about him, but he’ll be the typical freak with a bad ass temper ” you huff, as the lift stops just below your floor and you hear Adrian’s voice. You thank your lucky stars, and immediately ask him to help you with your load, and when your eyes intercept your lift companion, you smile at her in fascination. A beautiful girl, with long hair gathered in a braid that goes around her head and and a so sweet expression on her face, that looks like a fairy. She’s petite, but well shaped, tiny but with delicious curves.

She must definitely be some kind of model.

“Satsuki Momoi. I’m Daiki Aomine’s manager” she introduces herself simply, shaking your hand with a friendly smile on her cute face.

You reciprocate the introduction and give thanks that you have arrived at your destination, so that you have an excuse to disappear behind Adrian, and forget the bad impression you just made.

Or maybe you’ll have to apologise.

She follows you, standing behind you in silence, eyes wide.

“They’re amazing suits, but he’ll hate all three of them” she tells you, as soon as you’ve finished arranging the outfits on the rack. “You are absolutely right about one thing: he lacks patience. Just don’t take his word for it, Dai-chan loves to bitch, it’s his way of getting attention. Don’t mind him too much, don’t fight him, or he’ll bite back. Follow my advice and you’ll see, it’ll be easier than you think. I think he’ll gladly let you do whatever you want, seeing how pretty you are. “ she smiles sincerely smugly, perhaps not realising that she actually insulted you. 

You’re about to point out to her, but she grabs her mobile phone and starts ranting in a language impossible to understand. The breaking news, translated shortly afterwards, reports that the man of the hour is late, because he overslept. 

Great, you are already sick of him.

"Philip Schneider. Call me Captain, like everyone else!" the well-groomed man who owned the large premises in the heart of the city had told him. Aomine had followed him through the same looking rooms and the procession had been enriched by a journalist, a photographer and a make-up artist. Now he just had to find out where Satsuki had gone before he had a panic attack.

What he didn't know was that you were there, together with his manager.

"Finally, Dai-chan!" Satsuki called back to him with her typical don't-mess-around look. He had witnessed another show by the captain, who had introduced him to his team and make him seat in front of a mirror full of lights, around which everyone had gathered, except for you, who stayed behind to receive instructions from Momoi.

Who knows what you had to say to each other, it was so secret.

"Last but not least, my assistant, she will be the lucky one to dress and undress you today!" the captain announces, as the champion tries unsuccessfully to get it into his head that he has known how to dress himself since he was about three years old.

"Don't take this as a lack of confidence in your abilities. It is a measure to prevent make-up and hair products from staining your clothes " a new voice informs him, a voice he identifies with your face after a moment. You smell so good, you look so clean, austere and yet mischievous in your black dress that covers your knees and arms and barely caresses your figure. Your bright eyes, your lips a little fuller in the middle and your features so deliciously irregular make him discover something new about you at every glance.

If Daiki had known that he would be in the hands of such a beautiful girl all day long, he might even have bothered to set the alarm. 

"The fact is that...I'm ticklish" he grinned at you under Satsuki's embarrassed look.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle " you reassure him, then ask the captain for permission to leave to prepare the dressing room.

By the time he arrives, he has been interviewed, moisturised and his hair trimmed a few centimetres after being washed in an elaborate ritual. He could certainly get used to this life. The ace sees you close the door behind him, and finds himself alone in a white room that looks like a giant dressing room, with a table in the middle and a wall set up as a wardrobe.

"Welcome, Mr Aomine! " you smile, as if you were the maid from one of his teenage fantasies.

"Call me Daiki, Mr Aomine is my father" he replies, trying to figure out if Satsuki was part of the game or not.

"Your manager told me you'd rather do it yourself, but I can..." you quickly stop as he shakes his head.

“Being dressed by a girl is embarrassing enough. My self-esteem would be shattered if you and my best friend teamed up against me, and believe me, anything is possible with Satsuki!" he observes, making you smile. "When I first met her in the lift, I thought she was a model. Such a lovely woman! " you comment, and this time he's the one laughing.

"She is, but she's also stubborn and annoying and... Do I have to wear this stuff?" he huffs, pointing to the three garments hanging behind you, swaying in the empty room.

"That's the idea. What do they look like?" you probe the ground, perhaps already knowing the answer he'd give, judging by the way your worried eyes are fixed on him. He noticed it for a while now, that way of yours. You watch him discreetly and sparingly, for brief moments at a time.

"These are... strange" he states, lifting an arm and touching the soft fabric of the latter.

"OK, strange is fine with me" you nod, handing the boy a dark robe and a paper bag containing long blue socks and a pair of black boxer shorts with the famous 'Seamless' label.

"Satsuki informed me that you would never remember, so while I was waiting for you, I thought I'd catch up on the basics. Now, be a good boy for me and take it all off " you smile, unaware of the immediate stir that innocent encouragement causes to him.

As you wait for your model, you wonder what your boss is up to.

"Sage blue, single-breasted is the first choice! I have to consider the shirt between these two and..." you tell the boss, or rather the captain as he has proclaimed himself today, probably to be more in line with your model sporting career. He doesn't listen to you anyway, because his birthday present has just come out of the dressing room.

"Handsome, you can do the cover in your robe!" exclaims a beaming Phil as you turn your back to retrieve the accessories. Chelsea boots, cufflinks because you like them, midnight blue opaque tie and maybe a watch, but probably not. You arrange everything on the table so that your boss can oversee your choices, and as you look up at him, you understand why the man is so enthusiastic.

Maybe it's his naturally masculine posture, maybe it's the broad shoulders or that look he gives you as he playfully asks for your help in getting rid of Phil. You know it's going to be a long day by the effort you make to look away from him.

"Is the captain always like that? He could beat Satsuki " he points out, probably exhausted from the latest round of inappropriate comments.

"He's an enthusiast by nature!" you try to play it down with a smile as you hand him the suit trousers in exchange for the dressing robe. A bad exchange for your nerves and for your famous coolness, even though he has the elegance of a baby hippo. None of his chaotic movements distract you from his collarbones, his defined pecs and his back, so firm and luscious it deserves a chapter in art books.

"Done. What's next? " he asks you, bare-chested, hands on his hips, his trousers zipped just below his flat navel, as if there were any need to draw further attention to his abs and V.

"Are you comfortable enough?" you ask him, though you can't see any major faults in fit or length.

"The trousers are fine, it's the briefs that are a bit... restrictive " he laughs, as soon as he sees you widen your eyes and blush, as you've clearly downsized him.

"Excuse me... I..." you barely apologise as you climb up a step to place the shirt on his shoulders, which he puts on and fastens by himself, following your instructions to tuck it properly into his trousers.

"No need to apologise, it's not a rating, is it?" he mocks playfully, just to rub it in, and gets an ironic look and a shrug in return " I really should thank you. This is an experience that will make me a better man. Pain will bring out my inner strength " he continues to tease you throughout the dressing process, even as he hands you a wrist to slip the cufflinks on and closes them with a devilish grin.

"Behave, champ, or I'll strangle you with this tie! " you threaten, but your weapon is soon stolen from your hands, only to be tied with uncanny skill by the boy, who confesses that he learned to tie the knot while wearing a high school uniform.

"Was it supposed to be crooked then too, or is it a special one that only you know?" you tease him, gesturing for him to lean towards you, and he doesn't hesitate, bringing his face so close to yours that you're afraid your hands are going to tremble now that you've loosened the large side slightly, sliding the cloth under his collar, tightening it again and pressing the two sides flat over his stomach, feeling him swallow. You raise your eyes and stay that way for a moment, still watching each other closely, until a sound outside the door brings you back to reality. 

"Five minutes to fix his jacket and I'll send him to you! " you promise Adrian, who lingers at the door for a moment, just to watch you work.

" Head up and back straight for me, please! " you instruct, taking a few steps back to admire your work of art.  You hand him his shoes and the jacket that fits him like a glove, say hello to the photographer who is on his way back to the set, and return to him with a small smile. You button the jacket and adjust the cuffs of his shirt, inviting him to look at himself in the mirror.

Too bad, right now Daiki couldn't care less about his appearance.

"Ta-Daaan! Done! Do you like it?" you sing, waiting for a reaction.

" You are the expert here, so tell me! " the boy acknowledges, distracted by the attention you are giving him, even though he knows you are probably just checking an insignificant detail of the suit.

" I do, you are just so utterly perfect!" you reply cheerfully. "Phil told me that you can keep what you want, so please do me a favour and take this outfit home with you! " you conclude, shifting your focus from the mirror to his eyes, so excited that it is almost impossible for the boy not to think of you in your bedroom, shedding all those unnecessary layers.

"Where am I going to go dressed like this?" he asks, amusing you.

"Everywhere, actually " you say, removing an invisible thread from the jacket "A press conference, signing a contract, dinner with the girl you want to impress. I'm not saying you need a dress to impress, but... As girl, I assure you it's going to be harder to turn you down dressed like this! " you finish, moving away to retrieve a strange sticky brush with which you will deliver the 'coup de grâce'.

"Are you sure it works like that?" he scoffs, taking advantage of your distraction, grinning as you verbally confirm your condition.

" All right then... Let's say I want to spend some time with you. A dinner in a fancy place tonight, for example. Since I have the dress, you couldn't refuse, could you?" he asks, and you stall, moving slowly to his side, sliding a hand down his back, finishing your work in silence. 

"Are you trying to embarrass me, Daiki?" you point out quietly, leaving the brush on the table and crossing your hands over your stomach.

" It's not me, it's the suit! " he smirks, looking at you steadily, his arms crossed over his chest.

"The dress is my choice, smartass!" you tease him, just to remind him who's in charge.

But he really is in ratio, even flirting.

" Then finish the work and pick me too! " he smiles, and when his hand reaches your cheek, you know.

You know you cannot refuse.