#which gives me another idea. i’m going to make him very stubborn and bitchy for a quick moment

[milimeters-morales]

storyline where miles does online art commissions and he actually gets commissions from several villains she fights and never realizes this both due to revealed bits and pieces of villains talking about it being too vague for Miles to care about, and because of willful ignorance of things that can’t be coincidences. of course it gets to a point where they cannot ignore it + the guilt is eating at them, so they probably just refund the villain and make up some shit about an injury being too severe to work through (and that just so happens to be the same injury spider-man got last night. hm.)

[yoonpobs]

difficult | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: fluff, mini angst, super cute, mutual pining

words: 3, 812

summary: you're difficult and yoongi just wants you

“I can’t believe it,” Jimin whistles. Taehyung mirrors his sentiment but with a look of disbelief.

“Me neither. But here we are.” Taehyung states matter-of-factly.

You were silent, not because you had nothing to say—but because you couldn’t believe it either. How did you allow yourself to fall into this trap? A trap you’ve spent your entire life training to avoid. And you would consider yourself someone that was dedicated to their craft and you truly were. But you were still susceptible to guilty pleasures and you just found your match.

“Why is no one stopping me? Why isn’t anyone telling me to get a grip of myself?” You cry.

Jimin looks at you sympathetically even if he knows that you hated being pitied. Taehyung at least avoids your gaze but the tell-tale signs of a frown appear on his face when you see the furrow of his brows.

“You know … you’re allowed to feel this way, right?” Jimin says carefully and you were more annoyed with the fact that he was walking on eggshells with you when you’ve long passed that stage of prudent navigation around each other. And you knew exactly why he sounded the way he did.

“I’m not. I’m supposed to be an impenetrable fortress that cannot be shaken by anything let alone anyone. I am an unyielding, resolute woman that refuses to be tied down by society’s narratives.” You say all at once.

Jimin and Taehyung blink at you. They expected this—but it still surprised them that you vocalised their thoughts.

Jimin clears his throat.

“Let me rephrase that,” He says sternly, “You’re allowed to feel, period.”

You shake your head because you’ve fallen too far—too hard. And you needed to get a grip of yourself because you didn’t work hard perfecting the flawless expression of bitchiness and temptation to be taken seriously amongst a Board of Directors filled with men. People like you couldn’t afford to feel.

Especially when the world never feels for you. For women.

“Do you hear yourself Jimin?” You exasperate as you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“____—” Taehyung attempts to reason with you, but as always, you never let him get a word in. He knows you don’t mean any malice because you’ve built your walls so high that you think everyone is out to get you—but he just cares about you. He wishes you’d let him.

“No. You don’t understand guys. People like me? We—I���can’t afford to slack off. Not now and not anytime soon. I hear you guys and I wish I could understand where you’re coming from but frankly, I won’t ever be able to. You have the liberty of picking your battles because this world is yours. I had to fight my battles on my own to claim this world as my own and I’m nowhere near deserving of that role yet. I can’t feel.”

Their eyes soften at you and you avoid their gazes. You didn’t want their pity, and you didn’t want to sit in a tight office with their stares so heavy on your own.

“You deserve to be happy,” Taehyung says sadly.

You don’t respond, but you hear the chairs in front of your desk move against the hardwood floor. Then, you hear the opening and closing of your doors and you’re finally alone. Like how you do best.

You don’t allow another thought as insignificant as the one that threatens to overtake you to pass through your mind as you quickly tend to your pending projects.

The name of a certain man lingers very vaguely, though.

It annoys yet terrifies you how much you needed to consciously play your cards just right when you step into another board meeting. You thrived when you spoke at the podium, and no man—even the most bigoted—could deny that you were a born leader. But that didn’t mean that they liked that fact. In fact, most of them despised the idea that a woman as young as you was even allowed in the same room as they were. You wished you could yell at them, cry and shout until they understood that you were deserving.

You couldn’t, for very obvious reasons. But until you could—you needed to be smart.

“Mr Lee, with all due respect—liquifying the compartment company will not bring us the projected profit that you’ve pitched in the previous meeting.”

You’re level-headed and cool when you attempt to reason with the older and very stubborn man. He was old, and stubborn, which was never good news for you.

Mr Lee, the Chairman’s younger brother, simply scoffs at you, and you try your best not to let your eye twitch.

“What? Do you have a bachelor’s degree in business?” He sneers.

You blink.

“I have a double Masters in Business Administration and Finance.”

Mr Lee stiffens, and you briefly see Seokjin, the fellow nephew of Mr Kim, holding back his snorts at your declaration.

“I am qualified to be making this statement, and if you don’t believe in just words—which you really shouldn’t—here are the documents and projections from my end.” You distribute the analysis you took upon yourself to complete over the weekend and worked overtime to finish it as you handed it around the table.

Mr Kim, the Chairman, who was a far better man than everyone else in the Board of Directors, offers you an impressed smile as he flips through your booklet while you stand straight with your shoulders rolled back. A stance you often took to show that you knew your shit.

“This is very … meticulous. Great work as always, ___.” Mr Kim compliments you.

You don’t let it show on your face but you’re pleased with the way Mr Lee grumbles under his breath like a petulant child.

“Very well. We’ll keep the compartment company as it is,” Mr Kim declares and everyone else in the room shuffles to collect their belongings as the meeting comes to an end, “Meeting adjourned.”

+

“You’re absolutely badass,” Jin whistles at you as you walk side-by-side, your folders snug against your chest.

You hide your smile but acknowledge it regardless.

“And you were … there. As usual.”

He snorts and you know he gets where you’re coming from. Jin was simply present at the meeting but he wasn’t actually present. His heart had no place in the business world but instead in a world filled with fine dining and diverse cuisines as he worked up a storm in the kitchen. But as every father—who is the Chairman of a country’s largest exporter—he had pushed that dream onto Jin from a young age.

But Jin was Jin, and you knew Mr Kim simply kept him here for the sake of it; fully aware of his son’s aspirations and determination of becoming a chef.

“You should just take my position. You’re so good at business talk—I didn’t understand half the shit you were saying the entire time.” He says.

You shrug.

“I mean, that’s the goal. But let’s just see for now,” You hum as you reach your office, and you still when you see the person waiting for you inside.

Jin takes a peek over your shoulder and spots the same person who has you looking so tense. He whistles at you as he stuffs his right hand in his pocket while offering you a consoling pat on your shoulder with his left before he stalks off.

“Good luck!” He calls out, and you internally groan at the oncoming interaction.

You brace yourself and put on a brave face as you step into your office, doors clicking, signalling your guest to turn around at the insinuation of your presence.

“Mr Min, what can I help you with?” You don’t look at him when you place your belongings on your table and you nearly miss his scoff with the way you attempt to busy yourself with any mindless activity that you can find on your desk.

“Mr Min? Not Yoongi anymore?”

You ignore his bitter tone and look at him with a reserved stare, raising an eyebrow as if to question his statement.

“Are we not co-workers?” You reply coolly and he scoffs much louder for you to hear.

“Co-workers … yeah,” He shrugs, leaning forward, “Do you usually kiss your co-workers?”

You are still at the sudden declaration and nearly drop the pen that was in your grip. He’s suddenly inches closer to you despite the relative distance of your desk between the both of you. You try to ignore the heat of his body, but it’s entirely too suffocating for you to pretend like he isn’t there.

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” You wave him off and you steady your voice because you weren’t ready for him to see you break. You allowed yourself too much space to be vulnerable and you needed to stop.

He sits back into the chair and folds his arms across his chest with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, this is not what we’re going to do.” He says, suddenly much firmer than he was a moment ago.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, clearly confused.

“None of this detached, emotionless attitude with me. I see through this facade and it’s not cute. You’re going to speak to me like an adult and address the very obvious feelings you have for me, and likewise. You’re not allowed to deflect like you always do because I expect you to be honest with me because you’re clearly not being honest to yourself.”

You blink up at him and your heart starts beating more rapidly within your chest as it betrays your stoic appearance.

Maybe that was why you fell for Yoongi in the first place. He didn’t tolerate you. Specifically, the shit that you pull on him. You were well aware you were a stubborn, hard-headed bitch that could be emotionally reserved 99% of the time when you interacted with others. And sometimes your bitchiness was uncalled for, but most people were too terrified to say anything about it to your face.

Yoongi?

He had no problems letting you know what he expected from you and how he thought of you from the beginning. It should’ve irked you. Based on your strict line of principles that you upheld—a man projecting his own thoughts of you that he had in his head, directly to you, should’ve been dehumanising, disrespectful even. But you never got that from Yoongi. He was brutally honest. And you appreciate honesty.

But sometimes it made you squirm.

“I … sorry, what? Are you insane? I don’t have feelings for you.” You narrow your eyes at him and hope you sound convincing enough.

But you knew Yoongi well enough to know that he saw through your blatant lie.

“I said: don’t deflect. You’re deflecting.” He scolds.

“You’re being unnecessarily distasteful right now,” You roll your eyes.

“Am I? Or am I just telling you the truth that you’ve been trying to deny for the past week that you’ve been cowardly avoiding me?” He’s calm when he makes the accusation. And it wasn’t even an accusation because it was the plain truth.

You burn, both in anger and in humiliation.

“What do you know about me Yoongi? Aren’t I just the company’s hot-headed bitch?” You snap, remembering the first words you heard from Yoongi.

“You are a hot-headed bitch, and I know you’re scared of admitting that you have feelings for me because you think feeling makes you weak.”

You ignore the fact that he admitted that you were a bitch, but Yoongi wasn’t the type to lie, nor was he the type to kiss ass. And you hated that he was still brutally honest, even when speaking about a topic so … intimate.

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting this information from but you need to leave.” You stand up to walk towards the door so you could open it for him but he grabs your wrist before you make it there.

He turns you around to look at him. Properly look at him, that is. You’ve been avoiding direct eye contact with him because as good of a front you’ve worked on to put in front of him, you were human. And as a human, you were bound to have a weakness.

“You don’t get to walk away from me—this conversation—because you hate confrontation,” He frowns at you and you turn away to avoid his heavy gaze.

“Yoongi, can we not do this?” You sigh.

He chuckles dryly, using his right hand to nudge your face to look at him. It should’ve been demeaning, but you felt nothing like you were disrespected. You hated to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot more than you’d admit to anyone.

“No. We’re doing this. You’re going to address your feelings for me and actually work for what you want—and that’s clearly this,” He gestures between the two of you and you glare up at him.

“I told you! I don’t have any feelings for you.” You snarl at him, teeth bared like an animal but he just laughs at you like you were pathetic. You hated how small you felt in his presence but yet you were still whole.

“You don’t kiss a person you don’t have feelings for—you don’t hold someone you don’t have feelings for like they’re your safe space. You don’t have feelings for me? That’s funny because you did all of those things and you’ve never once complained when I reciprocated.”

You fumble with your words as the tip of your ears burn a bright red, which Yoongi easily catches.

“You don’t turn into a tomato if I was lying to you. You’re not like that, right? You’re self-assured. Ms-I’m-An-Impenetrable-Fortress,” He mocks.

“S-Stop acting as if you know me, Yoongi. You don’t and you never will.” You struggle against his grip on your wrist but he simply tugs you closer until your faces are inches apart.

“I don’t?” He scoffs, “Then tell me, why do I know that you confide Jimin and Taehyung for advice but never take it anyway because you’re too damn stubborn?”

You were about to retort but he’s quicker with his response.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you walk with your head held high into meetings but exit with your tail tucked between your legs because you’re afraid of sounding too dumb, too incompetent?”

You freeze.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you pull away from people not because you’re repulsed by them but because you’re afraid of forming actual bonds in the fear of being abandoned?”

You internally curse when you fear your eyes burning, and the lump in your throat becoming too much to bear.

“Then tell me, ___, why do I know you feel the same way about me but you’re too scared of looking dependent to do anything about it?” He whispers the last part when he pulls you tight against his chest.

You don’t fight him anymore, and you relax into the firm expanse of his chest and it terrifies you that it feels so much like home. A warm space you find comfort in.

You don’t even realise the first tear escapes your eyes until you feel Yoongi’s dress shirt turn slightly damp under the skin of your cheek. You’re mortified when you realise you’re crying and you attempt to pull away but his hands find their way around your waist to hold you tight.

“Don’t,” He whispers, “Don’t pull away from me.”

“Yoongi … I-I can’t,” You stutter, voice shaky.

He wipes a thumb on your cheek to wipe away the continuous stream of tears that you don’t bother hiding from him anymore.

“I worked my ass off to be taken seriously here and—and … if I get a boyfriend they’re going to think that I’m reliant, I’m weak, dependent on a man.” You ramble, but he just listens to your nonsensical statement as he rubs soothing circles on your head.

“I want you to rely on me, to depend on me. Stop thinking that you need to fight your battles alone. I’m here—I’ll be here. I’ve always been here but you need to let me be there for you.” He says softly.

You peer up at him with swollen eyes and he thinks you look beautiful. You always were beautiful. When you were commanding a meeting; when you were focused when you were angry; when you were laughing, and when you were sad. He was in for all of it.

“But ... the Board of Directors—”

He shushes you with a light kiss to the corner of your lip and you feel your stale heart flutter.

“I’m not here to be your saviour. I’m here to be your equal. I want to help you as much as you’ll help me. And believe me when I say you’ve helped me. The Board of Directors? Relationship or no relationship, they’ll be the same bigots that unfortunately dictate the policies in this company. The only person that has the ability to change anything in this situation is you ___.”

You feel your resolve breaking but you should’ve known that you’ve never had any resolve when it came to Yoongi. You were always weak around him. And maybe you needed to start accepting the fact that you were allowed to feel weak, to feel dependent on someone.

“What if you leave me.” You whine.

He snorts before rubbing a thumb between your furrowed brows.

“Then I leave. But we don’t know what’s going to happen if we don’t try,” He says and you realise how close he’s gotten to you to the point you feel his breath on your lips.

“That’s not comforting to hear the slightest,” You complain.

“And nothing about a relationship is easy. But I’m willing to be with you. I’ve always been ready—it’s you that needs to make the decision, ___.”

You finally lock eyes with him and you see nothing but sincerity. Yoongi could be crass, and often mistaken as a dick. But he was just honourable. He wouldn’t lie to anyone or sugarcoat the difficult truth. In fact, he never made you feel inferior to him even when he was straightforward. He never treated you differently because you were terrifying—but he treated you how he would with anyone else. And that was comforting. While everyone else walked on eggshells with you, he was fearless with his declarations.

Even now.

“I like you. I have no qualms in admitting it. And I’ll say it over and over again until you believe me,”

You don’t reply but kiss him. And there are no explosive fireworks, and time still flows—but it feels familiar. It feels like a territory that you’ve known all along, a little rough around the edges with the time spent away, but a place you can allude to comfort.

He responds by licking into the seam of your mouth as you allow his tongue to lick behind your teeth, a small whine caught in the back of your throat as you card your fingers through his hair. The hands-on your waist presses you tighter, flush against his body.

He pulls away first, resting his forehead on your own.

“I need to hear you say it. None of this tip-toeing anymore.”

You offer him a small smile.

“I-I …”

He watches you stutter with a hooded gaze but nothing about his stare makes you feel pressured. It was more comforting than anything, and the way he still held onto you like you mattered—but weren’t fragile—allowed you some semblance of peace in retaining your identity. This arbitrary idea of what you thought you were and how people perceived you. It was difficult to unlearn an idea that felt very personal to you after years of mastering its art.

You’re still unsure of how to react but you’re so sure of how you feel.

“I like you. I-I want to try.” You wail.

He’s alarmed by the sudden change in tone from your end and at the way you tug at the collars of his shirt. Not aggressively, but a little desperate. Not in the way that’d make him scrunch his nose in distaste but in a way that told him that this was you being vulnerable. Being open.

He wipes at your cheeks with dried tears and looks at you so honestly that it scares you. But in a way, you were fearless because you were terrified of everything. Mostly of disappointing others who held you to such a high standard, but it was a valid fear regardless.

“I’m not some fragile woman that you need to fix and I want you to understand that,” You pull yourself together and tell him sternly. He listens because Yoongi has never been presumptuous.

“I’m my own person and I won’t change the way I act to be with you—and if you’re looking for a cute … dainty, soft girlfriend then…” You whisper, “That’s not me. I’m tough. I’m a bitch and I’m stubborn. Our arguments are going to suck because I have a response for literally everything so—!”

He shushes your rambling with a finger to your lips and a raised eyebrow. You pout at him under his finger and he finds you adorable. He decides to not say anything to preserve his head—but soon. He’ll tell you soon.

“Are you done?”

You huff under his finger but he looks at you fondly.

“I’m not one for normality. I don’t care about what you think I’m into because I know that I’m into you. I’m in this, ___. Stop thinking that I deserve some idealistic image of a woman that you have in your head. I want you, and I thought me coming here to speak to you about your feelings was a clear testament to that.”

You try to hide your blush but you fail.

“And stop being so conscious of how you act around me. Be tough. Be independent. But don’t be afraid to be cute and vulnerable too, okay? I like you in all ways that you decide to present yourself in. Just … trust me. Trust this.”

“Okay.” You nod.

He grins at you.

“Does that mean I can hold your hand on the way to work?” He teases.

You avoid his eyes and look to the side, but the slight curve of your lip gives your answer to that question away.

“I guess …” You mutter.

He hugs you closer and squeezes you until your feet leave the ground. He tackles you with kisses all over your face and you can’t help but giggle. You feel happy. You feel secure.

“Cutie.”

You deliver a smack to his chest but he just laughs.

[clumsyclifford]

hello bella’s ask box it’s been a min damn.

so the vibes are fucking everywhere w the music in the lab today so i’ve mostly been ignoring it but then unforgettable by thomas rhett started playing and my brain was immediately like This Is a Fic Song

more importantly it is a Bella Fic Song

last time you not so subtly wanted me to prompt u w w thomas rhett song you told me to do that here so i am back again w another song from ur boy

okay i def snuck out just to send this so i gotta go now but this felt important laksdjdld

ok ily bye 💛

hi sam :)

so.................... i was stuck on what to write you for your birthday fic. you sent me this ask prompting me with a thomas rhett song that i had literally been meaning to write a fic based on for almost a full year. the puzzle pieces just aligned REALLY nicely on this one.

happy birthday, my love. there's gonna be a LOT more sappy shit in the ao3 notes, but please know that my life is irreversibly changed for the better because i met you. i am dangerous close to sounding like glinda from wicked and i really want you to get to READ this fic so please see ao3 for more schmaltz. i love you so much.

tw for alcohol

read here on ao3

-

Every life has a moment that imprints on memory like ink on a fresh page. The kind of moment that permanently alters the trajectory of that life, that marks the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Some people are lucky enough to have more than one. Some people’s minds are laden with crystallized memories. But there’s always at least one. One completely unforgettable moment.

For Jack, this moment happens twenty-four minutes after he enters the club.

Twenty-three minutes after he enters the club, Zack returns with his and Jack's second beers and says, "There's some guy at the bar who's totally your type."

"Yeah?" Jack cranes his neck, but he can't quite see the bar from where he is. "My type how? Not just 'lonely and drunk,' right? My standards have gotten higher, you know."

Zack hands Jack his beer. "He's cute and he's wearing a One Direction shirt, and I'm pretty sure he's drinking a margarita.”

"Oh shit," Jack says. "That checks all my boxes."

"I know it does," says Zack, winner of the Wingman Of The Decade award. He claps Jack on the shoulder. Jack sidesteps people until he gets eyes on the bar and scans for a cute guy in a One Direction shirt drinking a margarita.

Twenty-four minutes after Jack enters the bar, he sees Alex.

And everything changes forever.

*

"Woah," Jack says. His gut is feeling weird and it’s probably unrelated to the beer and a half under his belt.

"What?"

"The guy at the bar," Jack says, grabbing Zack's arm. "Zack. You grossly undersold my future husband to me."

"Your future husband?" Zack sounds amused, but Jack isn't kidding.

"Remember this moment," he says seriously, giving Zack a sloppy pat on the bicep before moving away from him, towards the bar, towards the cute guy with the One Direction shirt who's making Jack understand clairvoyance. "Remember this so you can tell the story at our wedding!"

"Your wedding," Zack repeats.

"Our fucking wedding!" Jack insists, more loudly as space and drunk people fill the growing gap between him and Zack. Zack just gives him a good-luck-and-godspeed wave.

Seconds later, Jack is at the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The cute guy in question looks up, surprised. Jack practically reels. It's a miracle people aren't flocking to this guy; he's not just cute, he's gorgeous. Bleach-blond hair — clearly from a bottle, which somehow Jack finds more attractive — flops over his forehead in a stubborn commitment to the emo fringe that died out a decade ago, and long lashes frame brown eyes that rival the glossy chestnut color of the bar. Add the five o'clock shadow and the sharply angled jaw and Jack's speechless.

Fortunately it's not his turn to speak. "I have a drink," says the guy, who is rapidly progressing from Cute Guy At Bar to Possible Soulmate At Bar. He quirks a smile. Jack's done for. "I'll buy you a drink, though."

Jack sets his partially-drunk beer on the bar top and slides it as far as he can reach. "Okay," he says.

Possible Soulmate laughs. He slides his margarita away from him, too, pushing it into the space of another person sitting down the bar. "Touché. Okay, you can buy me a drink."

"Well, hey, I don't want you to waste yours," Jack says reasonably. He retrieves his beer and then Possible Soulmate's drink. "I'll get the next one."

Possible Soulmate smiles. Jack is going to need his name eventually. "I appreciate your commitment to environmentally-friendly consumption of alcohol."

Jack blinks. "Yeah," he says. "That was a lot of big words, but sure. No problem. I'm Jack, by the way."

"Alex." Alex. Jack can see the wedding invites now.

"Nice to meet you," Jack says. "I like your shirt."

Alex glances down out of instinct as the wide collar of the shirt slips over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says with a chuckle, and looks up at Jack. "I like yours."

With great effort, Jack tears his gaze from Alex's shoulder and the hint of collarbone peeking out, but he would like it on the record that it is tremendously difficult. Fortunately he already knows what shirt he's wearing because he'd agonized over it for several minutes longer than Zack's patience ran, shortly before going out.

"Yeah, Kurt Cobain," he says, nodding with probably too much enthusiasm. "I'm a lead singer guy."

"Really?" Alex tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Meaning what?"

"I go for the lead singer types," Jack explains. "Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong, you know." He nods at Alex's shirt. "Harry Styles."

"Harry Styles wasn't—" Alex breaks off and snorts. "Eh, whatever. Who cares."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold the phone. Did you fucking cross out Zayn's face?"

Alex looks down at his shirt again like maybe he'll have forgotten what it looks like. "Oh, my friend did that. But now the shirt is factually accurate."

"If you wanted an accurate shirt you'd have to cross them all out since none of them are in the band anymore," Jack observes.

Alex slowly smiles. "I guess."

"I always liked Zayn," Jack says wistfully. "His solo shit is so good, though."

"It's good," Alex says, kind of in the tone of voice of someone who doesn't really agree but doesn't want to get into it, so Jack leaves it be. They can poll their wedding guests. "I'm really digging Niall's solo shit."

"That's an extremely acceptable answer," Jack says, nodding vigorously. In the moment it slips his mind that he's holding a beer and the liquid begins to slosh out of its container. "Oh shit, fuck, sorry."

"Didn't get me," Alex says, passing Jack a napkin. "Couple too many, I get it."

"What?" Jack is very focused on drying his hands so they don't get sticky and gross. "I'm not drunk."

Alex laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not!"

"Okay," Alex says lightly, but it's clear he doesn't believe Jack. On the bright side, he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I am acceptably drunk for a guy in his mid-twenties at a club,” Jack amends. "And you owe me a drink anyway."

"Hey, I intend to buy you that drink," Alex says earnestly. "Another beer?"

Jack shakes his head. "Vodka soda," he says. "It's a special occasion."

"Really! You celebrating something?"

"I am now," Jack says. "Celebrating meeting my future husband."

"Your future husband?"

"You," Jack says, in case it wasn't clear. "It's not every day you meet the man you're gonna marry. I think it calls for a celebratory vodka soda."

Alex stares, obviously expecting Jack to say sike! When Jack does no such thing, he gives a small, incredulous laugh.

"Fair enough," he says. He sounds like he's humoring Jack. That's okay. Jack is serious, but Alex will figure that out on his own time. "I guess you're not wrong. That doesn't happen every day."

A large shadow materializes on Alex's other side, blocking light like some very cliché movie villain. It's not Doc Ock, but it is some tall, burly guy, a leer affixed to his face that's probably been there since Alex's haircut went out of style.

"Hey, baby," he says in an unnervingly deep voice. The part of Jack that isn't super skeezed out is a little jealous. But Burly Guy isn't talking to Jack; Jack may as well be invisible. To Alex, Burly Guy says, "Saw you across the bar and I just had to come over."

Didn't have to, Jack thinks grumpily to himself. You could have stayed across the bar. If you walk away now we’ll pretend we never saw you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Burly Guy asks, and honestly, Jack has no idea what Alex is going to say.

Big Burly Guy with a deep voice a la Morgan Freeman vs. resident beanstalk Jack whose voice sounds like a rejected cartoon character design. What a tough choice.

Jack is just preparing to cut his losses when Alex grabs Jack's wrist, turns to him, and says, "Honey? What do you think?"

Jack's tipsy, but Alex is definitely communicating something with his eyes, and between that and the pet name Jack is pretty sure he's on the same page.

"You want to buy my boyfriend a drink?" Jack asks Big Burly Guy, cranking up the Bitchy energy because he doesn't get to do it a lot and it's kinda fun. His voice has definitely gone vaguely southern-auntie, but he's rolling with it. "Sorry, sugar, this seat's taken. Must be this guy" — he points at himself — "to ride."

"This guy?" Burly Guy echoes, furrowing his eyebrows at Jack and then looking at Alex with profound confusion, like he just doesn't get it. "You're with this guy?"

"Happily," Alex says, glancing back at Jack, who offers him what is definitely a convincingly enamored smile because Jack is legitimately enamored. Alex laces their fingers together and Jack's not delusional, can't be, not when they fit this well together. No way. "So I'm gonna pass on that drink. Sorry, man. No hard feelings."

Burly Guy seems to have some hard feelings. Maybe he didn't get the memo. "Whatever," he says gruffly. "Your loss."

Jack can't resist countering, "Actually it's your loss, sweetums," as Burly Guy retreats. If he dies tonight, he knows who’s responsible.

As soon as he's gone, Alex breaks down laughing, and Jack quickly follows suit. Alex's hand slips from Jack's and begins to tug at the ends of his own hair instead.

"Sugar?"

"I don't know what happened," Jack says/wheezes. "I became possessed by Blanche from Golden Girls.”

"You have to be" — Alex prods Jack's chest — "this guy to ride." He dissolves into giggles and Jack is laughing too but mostly because Alex's laugh is incredibly contagious.

"Look, I don't blame him," Jack says, feeling exhilarated. "You are the best-looking guy in this establishment. He just happened to have creepo vibes."

"I am not the best-looking guy in this establishment," Alex says, grinning at Jack. "Nice of you to say, though."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I thought you were Jack."

Jack stares at Alex and Alex doesn't even last a second before he's breaking down laughing yet again.

I'm going to marry you, Jack thinks, and it almost scares him how serious he is about that. He opens his mouth and says, "That wasn't even— that's not even one of the good dad jokes! That's the most boring one!"

"There is no such thing as a boring dad joke."

"You should go into stand-up," Jack says dryly. "You'd tear down the house with this set. I can see it now." He waves a grandiose hand in the air as if painting the marquee into existence, but when he goes to introduce the act he realizes he's missing most of the crucial information. "Alex…something…something. Austin, Texas, one night only."

"Gaskarth," Alex says. "That's my last name."

"Alex Something Gaskarth," Jack loyally amends, and gives Alex a look like, well?

Except Alex is giving Jack that same look. "I only know your first name and you expect me to tell you my full one?"

"Jack Bassam Barakat," Jack says, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, I'm trying to introduce your act here."

"Guess," Alex says.

"Guess?"

"It's a pretty basic middle name," Alex says. "I'll buy you your vodka soda when you guess it."

"Alex," Jack says. "I am not going to guess your middle name. I am so bad at these games and I'm fucking drunk."

"Quitter," Alex says. "Do you want your drink?"

Jack scowls, trying to channel Blanche again, but Alex is apparently immune.

"Give me a hint," he finally concedes.

"It's a British name," Alex says. “Pretty standard British.”

"Are you British?”

Alex nods. "Born and raised. Moved here when I was about…eight? But I'm not an American citizen. I have a green card."

Yet another reason they should be married. Jack could extend his citizenship to Alex. Plus he'd gain British citizenship, which would probably be useful for, like, travel or One Direction stalking or whatever.

"That's sick," Jack says. "I was born in Lebanon. We moved when I was a baby."

"That's so cool," Alex says, sounding genuinely interested. He props his chin on his hand and gives Jack a cheeky smile. "Now guess."

Jack sighs. "Uh, Charles."

"No."

"Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"Margaret."

"Jack."

"You said it's a British name!"

"A British man's name," Alex says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Jack takes a long pull from his beer, swallows, and says, "Harry."

"No."

They're going to be here awhile. Jack pulls out the seat next to Alex and settles in while he racks his brain for British names.

*

“Alfred.”

“Nope.”

“John.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“George.” Alex shakes his head. “Ringo.”

“Yup, you finally got it,” Alex says. Jack is over the moon for a split second before it sinks in that Alex is fucking with him. “Alex Ringo Gaskarth. Well done.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing my best here,” Jack says.

“You’re missing one incredibly obvious name,” Alex says. “It’s not that hard.”

“For you,” Jack says. “Because you already know it.” Alex is grinning. Jack likes that he’s enjoying himself. It makes this guessing game fun. Under any other circumstances, this guessing game would not be fun, but Alex makes it fun.

Alex has also finished his mango margarita by now, and Jack’s beer is long since empty. He’s itching for another drink, mainly for something to do with his hands.

As if reading his mind, Alex flags down the bartender, who sidles up with a small smile and says, “What can I get you boys?”

Jack blinks at her. Mostly at her accent, which is not American.

“Vodka soda,” Alex says. To Jack, “I think you’ve earned it.” Jack smiles.

“And a mango margarita,” he puts in to the bartender, “and are you British?”

The bartender looks amused. “I am British,” she says.

“Please help me,” Jack says. “Alex says his middle name is a British name and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it fucking is.”

“Jack, the nice bartender lady has other things to do,” Alex says with a laugh. The nice bartender lady probably does have other things to do, but she shifts her weight and gives Alex an appraising look instead.

“Harry?”

“Tried that,” Jack says, realizing at once that this is a pointless endeavor. The nice bartender lady is going to guess everything Jack’s already guessed and he’ll just have wasted her time. “I’ve tried every member of One Direction, every member of the Beatles, every member of Oasis, every Harry Potter character, every member of the Royal Family—”

At this, Alex coughs conspicuously.

Jack rounds on him. “I have.”

“Edward,” the bartender offers. Alex’s lips are pressed together in a smile and he shakes his head. “Meghan. Kate. Richard. Dick. Philip.”

A lightbulb goes off as the bartender is listing Royal Family names. Jack wants to kick himself. “Oh my— William?”

“Yeahhhh, there you go! See, it was easy,” Alex says, grinning widely.

“William,” the bartender repeats with a charming little laugh. Her lipstick is bright with clean lines, an impressive feat considering Jack has seen her bustling around this bar for almost an hour now. “I had an ex called William.”

“Oh no,” Alex says. “I hope he didn’t ruin the name for you.”

“Please,” the bartender says, waving him off. “The only thing he ruined for me was a few meters of drywall.” Jack and Alex must have twin looks of concern, because she explains, “Anger issues. No worries, boys, I sent him packing, and a vodka soda for you, and a mango marg for you.”

She slides their drinks into waiting hands and starts to turn away. “Wait a sec,” Jack says.

The bartender turns back to him with wide Bambi eyes. “Did I fuck up the drink? I’ve made it a million—”

“No no no,” Jack assures her. “I just wanted to know your name. You rescued me from an eternal guessing game, you’re my hero.”

The bartender smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maisie,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Alex says. “Thank you for the alcohol.”

Maisie laughs again as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“William,” Jack says, swirling his drink with the miniature straw. “God damn. I can’t believe I missed William.”

“You got close,” Alex says. “You guessed Liam twice. And thanks for the drink.”

“Same to you,” Jack says. “It’s a good drink. Yours, I mean. You know what offends me, though? Why aren’t mango margaritas orange?”

Alex furrows his brow. “Why the fuck would they be orange?”

“Mangos are orange! Fruity drinks should be the same color as their fruit.”

“Mangos are not fucking orange,” Alex says with an incredulous laugh. “They’re straight-up yellow.”

“They’re orange with yellow tendencies,” Jack says, “but mostly orange.”

“They are entirely yellow,” Alex says. “Coldplay even wrote a song about them. They were all yellow.”

“They’re orange,” Jack insists, but now Alex has moved on completely and is loudly singing Coldplay.

“I came along! I wrote a song foooor youuuuu! And all the things you do!”

“You’re ignoring the truth!”

“And it was called ‘Yellow’!” Alex shouts.

“Okay, I surrender! Sheesh. You win.”

“Thank you,” Alex says placidly, like he hasn’t just been yelling obnoxiously over the (worse, but much louder) club music. “I’m going to enjoy my yellow mango marg very much.”

“And I will enjoy my victory drink,” Jack says, lifting his glass. Alex lifts his. It smells like mango and tequila. They clink the rims together. “To William.”

“To William,” Alex agrees, laughing.

*

The DJ plays a song Jack loves to hate from hearing it on the radio so many times and Alex is out of his seat before Jack’s managed to put down his drink.

“What are—”

“I love this song, I want to dance,” Alex insists. The implication is clearly that he wants Jack to dance with him, which is like. What is Jack gonna do, say no?

Alex must anticipate some kind of argument, though, because with a glint in his eye he adds lightly, “These are the kinds of things you’ll have to do if we’re married.”

On the one hand, he’s clearly making fun. But on the other hand, the fact that Alex was a stranger an hour ago and is still comfortable teasing Jack about suggesting they’re going to get married speaks volumes. Alex is smiling. They’ve known each other for less than an hour — a drink and a half each — and Alex is smiling at his own joke about marrying Jack. Like he likes that Jack said it first. Like he likes Jack.

“Just wait ‘til you learn all the weird shit you’ll have to do when we’re married,” Jack says, sliding out of his stool.

Any sane person would have run away by now. Even Jack knows when he’s coming on too strong.

But Alex does the opposite; Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the dance floor.

“Fair warning,” Alex says. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack says, and then eats his words not two seconds later when Alex demonstrates how very much he doesn’t know how to dance. All of his limbs seem to move as their own entities, zero synchronization. A couple surrounding people take various minor assaults before taking the hint and giving Alex some space, but this does not stop him. “Okay,” Jack says loudly over the music. “You were right. But luckily neither do I.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alex says.

Jack does the sprinkler. Alex snorts. He does the wave, very poorly, and Alex continues it, also very poorly.

“Mr. Moves,” Alex says. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Check this one out.” Jack does the running man with extreme focus. Alex laughs, leaning towards Jack as he does. Jack stops dancing so he doesn’t accidentally hit Alex, who is suddenly much closer and who somehow smells like pine and flannel and fall and winter in one and is the best-looking person in blue jeans and checkered Vans on this dance floor. Far from the only person, but without question the prettiest.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I can do that one,” says Alex, grinning. Jack nods at him like, try it, so Alex does, proving himself right. He almost takes Jack’s eye out.

“Yeesh, okay, you’re— alright, take it easy,” Jack says, swatting Alex’s wayward hand away and laughing. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

Surrendering the running man, Alex starts up with some bizarre hand-wavey foot-kicky thing, singing along to the music.

“Do you seriously like this song?” Jack asks, attempting to imitate Alex’s dance. “Dance,” heavy quote marks implied.

Alex shoots Jack a look. “Hell yeah. What, you don’t?”

“It’s just…always on,” Jack says. “Everywhere. How are you not sick of it?”

“Because it fuckin’ slaps!” Alex looks incensed.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a pop music person when you’re literally in a One Direction shirt.”

“I’m a lots of music person,” Alex counters. “Including pop music, yeah. You don’t like pop music?”

“I sometimes do,” Jack says. “I like Taylor Swift. Britney Spears.”

“Okay, well, you’d have to be insane not to like them.”

“Yeah, and I’m obviously sane.”

Alex barks a laugh. “Drunk but sane.”

“I am not drunk!” That’s probably a lie by now.

“You’re not convincing me otherwise,” Alex says. “I’m confident you’ve been drunk this whole time.”

“You haven’t exactly been an innocent bystander,” Jack says. “You bought me a drink, and you’re gonna buy us shots in a minute.”

“I did— I what?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and this time he drags Alex off the dance floor, back to the bar. “I can see the future, I forgot to tell you.”

“You—” Alex laughs again and leans on the bar, trapping both his elbows between his stomach and the bartop. “You’re buying the next round.”

“Oh, happily,” Jack says. “I’m actively trying to get you drunk.”

“Why’s that?”

“Studies show I am 75% more attractive to people when they’re drunk,” says Jack.

Alex turns to him. Without missing a beat, he says smoothly, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to get any more attractive.”

Fuck. Actually, fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

“You must be drunk already, then,” Jack says.

Alex smiles serenely. “I feel pretty sober.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Jack says. “J’accuse, William.”

Alex laughs. “In that case, your studies are right.”

Jack’s probably blushing. He does that in extreme cases only, but this is nothing if not an extreme case. Alex is fucking relentless.

Maisie the bartender is back, and Alex orders them shots of tequila. Somewhere in the recesses of Jack’s mind, this unlocks a memory, and he snaps his fingers. “I should hunt down my friend, he loves tequila.”

“Friend?” Alex looks around while Maisie pours their shots. “You ditched your friend?”

“He told me to,” Jack says. “He’s probably gonna pick up some girl. Actually, he probably already has.”

“Really,” Alex says, sounding amused.

“Zack’s a strong silent type,” Jack explains. “Emphasis on strong. We’re single guys in our mid-twenties, Alex. We’re not going to clubs for the atmosphere.”

“Admit it,” Alex says. “You a little bit are.”

Jack bites his lip. “Fine, I like the atmosphere,” he admits, more affected than he should be that Alex seems to have picked up on this about him. “And the alcohol. And the chances I’ll meet my future husband, which clearly paid off. Zack will never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he likes trying to set me up with random people in clubs.”

Alex laughs. “He set you up with me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says. “He wingmanned me hard. You can thank him in your vows.”

This only serves to make Alex laugh harder. “I’ll thank him now,” he says with a grin. Taking his cue, Jack grabs his shot glass. Alex does the same. “To Zack.”

“To Zack!” Jack cheers, and they both down their shots.

“Me?”

Jack whirls around and trips straight into Zack. “Zack!” he says brightly. “We toasted you.”

“I heard,” Zack says. “Why, exactly?”

“I’m Alex,” says Alex, holding out a hand. Zack shakes it. “Apparently you set us up?”

“Oh,” Zack says. “I wouldn’t really say that. I just kind of pointed Jack in this direction. If you can put up with him, that’s all you.”

“I was gonna come find you anyway,” Jack says. “We’re doing tequila shots. Next round on me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Zack says. “Count me in.”

They can’t come up with a toast for their second round so they just knock it back with an ambiguous cheer; then Zack offers to buy another, and Jack’s not about to refuse. It’s starting to hit just right, so he’s buzzed but not incoherent. All his most brilliant ideas come in this state.

Case in point: as Maisie is pouring them their third round, Jack suddenly says, “Maisie! Do a shot with us!”

Maisie looks up and laughs. “I’m not supposed to drink on the job,” she says.

“It’s not drinking, it’s bonding,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, we’re forming lasting friendships,” Alex jumps in.

Zack looks entertained. “You guys know each other?”

“As of half an hour ago, yes,” Maisie says.

“Maisie here helped me guess Alex’s middle name,” Jack explains. “Which is William. Like the prince.”

“I feel like I missed so much,” Zack says, half to himself. He shrugs and nods at Maisie. “One shot. On me. For Jack. We won’t tell.”

Maybe it’s because Zack is buff and has cool tattoos or just has good vibes or whatever, but Maisie hesitates only a second before inclining her head. “Just one, and no blabbing,” she says, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Everyone nods solemnly, and Maisie discreetly pours herself a fourth shot.

“Hell yes!” Jack whoops as they all take a shot glass. “To Maisie!”

“To Maisie!” Everyone echoes, including Maisie with a wry grin.

The third shot goes down smoother than the first two. Jack swallows his easily, as does Alex. Maisie puckers her face a bit. Zack has zero reaction, because Zack’s just kinda like that.

“While I’m here, I was hoping to get another beer,” Zack says.

“On it,” Maisie says immediately, giggling. “Thanks for the shot, boys. You’ve kept me far more entertained tonight than my usual shift provides.”

“You can give a toast at our wedding,” Jack says to her. Zack’s eyes widen a little, Alex snorts, and Maisie laughs.

“I’d be honored,” she says. “Back to work now. You need anything, let me know.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“What?” Jack gives Zack an innocent smile. He pats Zack on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sugar, you can give a toast too.”

Alex laughs. Zack stares at him and shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he says, but he says that roughly twice a day so he’s still below his quota. “I’ll leave you two alone. Come find me when you wanna go. If…” He eyes Alex. “...Just…yeah.”

And with these eloquent words, he disappears with his beer into the crowd.

“I like him,” Alex announces.

“Me too,” Jack says. He turns back to Alex. “Back to the dance floor?”

“Get out of my brain,” Alex says. “I’d like to see your drunken running man.”

“It is gonna blow your fucking mind,” Jack promises, and Alex laughs again.

*

They’re not even being gross like everyone else. Alex has pulled Jack into an exaggerated tango performed mostly with missteps when it happens: someone shoves them aside as they walk past, and Alex loses his balance and falls into Jack, who just barely manages to catch them both. He doesn’t manage to stop his arm from winding around Alex’s waist. To be fair, he doesn’t try very hard.

Jack’s first thought is homophobe, but then he spots the offender, lumbering off with heavy footfalls, and it’s Burly Guy from earlier. The guy who tried and failed to pick Alex up.

All of this registers as Alex slowly regains his footing. “Damn, who pissed in that dude’s Cheerios?”

“It’s the guy from before who tried to buy you a drink,” Jack says, pointing at his back.

Alex whips his head around. “Seriously? Asshole.”

Jack chooses not to observe that from his vantage point, being shoved close together is hardly a dick move. In intent, sure, but not in actuality; Jack’s enjoying the proximity a great deal. Like, a lot.

Like, his hand is still on Alex’s hip, subtly keeping Alex close, and Alex has his arm around Jack’s shoulders from their dance and he’s not moving, either.

“Yeah,” Jack says. They’d already been on the outskirts and now they’re off to the side of everyone, wallflowers.

Alex breathes a laugh and looks back at Jack. He doesn’t step back or even lean away, even though their faces are too close to be friendly now. Jack hadn’t really been expecting friendly, but they’ve been tightrope-walking between sides, and if neither of them breaks this up then they’ll be irreversibly left on one end.

Jack has no intention of moving away. He likes this end of the tightrope. For all he cares, they could cut the tightrope and free-fall together.

“You’re pretty good at bad tango-ing,” Alex says, reaching up to brush away the sweaty fringe that’s clinging to his forehead.

Jack grins. “Well, you know what they say. It takes two.”

Alex kisses him so suddenly that Jack almost loses his balance.

*

He tastes like tequila. That’s all Jack gets before they’re not kissing anymore. The room feels quiet and then unforgivably loud the next second, and Alex is flushed and smiling nervously, and Jack is smiling too, not nervous at all.

“Did I tell you I’m in a band?” Alex asks in a rush.

Jack’s brain struggles to keep up. He can’t remember Alex mentioning a band, but he’s also distracted by wanting to kiss Alex again. There’s no understating the power of wanting to kiss someone over failing to clock anything they say. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” Alex says. “Not as a job, just like, for fun.”

“Oh,” says Jack.

“I’m the lead singer,” Alex says, with a flickering look down at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh,” says Jack, because, like, oh. “Can I kiss you again?”

“What, here?” Alex meets his eyes. “With all these people around?”

“You kissed me first,” Jack says. “Let me kiss you and then we can call it even.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Jack’s kissing him before the word’s really out of his mouth.

And he tastes like tequila and mango and sugar and the color yellow and the sweat of the dance floor and God, it’s good. It’s like kissing a memory, except this memory is still here, not frozen in time, not trapped in an ornate frame. He’s creating a memory that he knows he’ll relive for the rest of his life.

Somehow, though he doesn’t know the end of this chapter, he knows the end of the book.

Alex’s warm palm cradling Jack’s cheek to hold him steady, fingers splayed out like a star; Alex’s other hand grazing skin over the collar of Jack’s shirt. Alex singing Coldplay in Jack’s ear. Alex’s blue jeans and his checkered Vans and his ridiculous One Direction tank top. Alex holding Jack’s hand and calling him honey to get Burly Guy to leave him alone. Grinning as he shoots down guess after guess for the elusive middle name. Laughing at Jack’s stupid dance moves. Knocking back a shot like it’s nothing. Smiling when Jack says they’re going to get married, never moving away, only ever closer.

Alex sitting undisturbed at the bar, ankles crossed, and Jack seeing him from across the room like something out of a goddamn Hallmark movie and just knowing.

He tugs Alex closer but Alex is already pulling away with a smile. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smoothes a hand over a crease in Alex’s shirt and nods. “Taxi’s on me if we go back to your place.”

“Sucker, I was gonna suggest that anyway,” Alex says with a quiet laugh. “You should tell Zack. Don’t wanna just leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “He knows.”

“He knows?”

“Zack and I are brothers in clairvoyance,” Jack says. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I knew you could see the future,” Alex says. “You never told me Zack could, too.”

“Zack can see everyone’s future,” says Jack. “I can only see mine.”

“Yeah? What’s your future look like now?”

Jack filters out several inappropriate comments. It’s hard when Alex is smirking, clearly baiting him. “I told you,” he says. “You, me, vows, rings, the works.”

“Not that future,” Alex says. “I’m talking about the immediate one.”

It takes everything in Jack not to get down on one knee and say so was I. There’s a tilt in Alex’s head, like a dog listening carefully for a familiar sound.

“Honestly?” Jack says, and Alex nods. “I think it’s more fun if we find out together.”

[onewfantaesy]

so they actually disliked each other to begin with? why? how did they make friends? how did they end up dating? was kibum like, i hate his perfect fucking face?

Enemies to Lovers AU 

They debuted in the same month, both in dancer roles, both highly praised for their skills. By all accounts, they should have been friends. And when Taemin first met Kibum, he thought they would be friends.

It was at a variety show recording just a few weeks after their groups both debuted. They had been encouraged to dance against each other; it was silly and fun, or at least Taemin thought it was, and he was so excited to meet someone other than Jongin who was as into dancing as he was. He thought Kibum was amazing, thought he could learn so much from him, because Kibum was a couple years older and he thought he was cooler and he wanted so badly to just make friends. It had proven to be quite the difficult task after he had debuted - making friends.

But Taemin won that little dance competition, so when Taemin tried to talk to Kibum between recordings, he was instantly snubbed and given a dirty look because Kibum was upset and eager to prove himself and just overall not in a very good mood that day to begin with. He’d hurt his back the day before during practice, the painkillers were wearing off, and now he’d been out-danced by a kid. He was just not having a good day, and he took it out on Taemin by being a bit of an ass in the hallway.

And it started a ripple of effect of Taemin being snarky the next time they ran into each other, then Kibum retaliated the time after that, and soon enough, they both were being bitchy and calling each other names backstage whenever they saw each other.

And for four-and-a-half years, they continued outwardly hating each other. It was almost a joke, it had become entertaining to so many people so quickly, because they originally had been just so bad at hiding their emotions towards each other. Fans caught the dirty faces, the snarky words, and the ranting to other members about how annoying they thought the other dancer was. Show hosts picked up on it and started asking questions, and with very little time to prep a professional answer, these two teenagers just would answer, “He’s annoying!” “He’s a brat!” “I can’t stand him!” “I don’t wanna be anywhere near him!”

In a way, it gained both groups a lot of attention early on, having this dancer rivalry. Their little feud was well-known and quickly blew out of proportion, to the point that managers were insisting they play it up and exaggerate everything to get more attention. So they both did, but neither of them had any idea the other was also just being extra mean and extra annoying because of the managers. They both thought the other just genuinely hated them.

Then one day, by complete coincidence, Kibum just happens to be walking by after a variety show recording, after a full day of Kibum and Taemin going back and forth with each other, after a full day of Kibum being completely ruthless with Taemin because he’d had a bad week and sometimes taking it out on Taemin was therapeutic, in a way. And could hear Taemin’s voice, and he almost turned around entirely because he was annoyed with him and didn’t want to bother with him anymore today. But then he heard the catch in Taemin’s voice and the muffled way he said, “Mommy, I don’t get why he hates me so much.”

And Kibum stares at this door. This door that’s separating him from Taemin’s voice, that’s hiding Taemin from everyone else, and he realizes it’s a janitor’s closet. At first, he thought it had been the dressing room for Taemin’s group, but he can hear their obnoxious laughter from around the corner, and now he’s curious. Because it’s him Taemin is talking about, it’s obviously about Kibum. Who else would he be talking about?

So Kibum just wiggles the handle and walks inside. 

A quick, muffled, “I gotta go, bye, love you,” is said, and Kibum watches Taemin shove a cellphone in his pocket and swipe a sleeve under his eyes before he turns around. Taemin immediately glares at him, and he tries to step around Kibum, but Kibum just closes the door and stands in front of the doorknob.

“What do you want?” Taemin snaps.

“Who were you talking about?” Kibum asks, tilting his head.

“Fuck off.”

Kibum just runs his eyes all over Taemin’s face: the way his eyes are rimmed red and his lashes are still wet, the little freckle on his nose, the way his eyebrows barely exist without makeup, the way his lips are pulled into a stubborn little pout. 

“How are you so fucking pretty all the time?” Kibum scoffs, his voice soft.

Taemin just sucks in a gasp.

“What?” he scoffs back. “Get the fuck away from me!”

Taemin tries to push past him, tries to leave the tiny room, tries to get away from Kibum. But Kibum is confused and curious and he hates when he doesn’t get an answer to a question.

“Who were you talking about?” Kibum repeats. “Tell me.”

“Who the fuck do you think?” Taemin challenges. “The cameras aren’t here, just let me go.”

“What’s your secret?” Kibum asks. “To always being so pretty?”

“You’re insane,” Taemin scoffs.

Taemin finally pushes past him and leaves the room, and Kibum can hear him stomping down the hall. Kibum huffs, and he’s right back to being annoyed. But now he’s overly curious, so he spends months trying to corner Taemin away from the cameras, trying to question him. 

Then finally, right after Taemin’s nineteenth birthday, Kibum corners him after another variety show recording and just smiles at him. Watches the way Taemin pouts and frowns and glares at him.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Taemin whines, turning to look around the room they’re in this time. A spare dressing room. Empty aside from the few makeup brushes that got left from the last group’s stylists. 

“Happy birthday.”

Taemin’s head snaps back, a confused look on his face, and he looks at the little box Kibum is holding out. He takes it cautiously, runs his fingers over it, then opens it slowly.

“Earrings?”

“You just got your ears pierced, didn’t you?” Kibum says. “For when they heal up. They’ll look good on you. But I also got you something else.”

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just close them.”

“No!”

So Kibum leans forward and kisses him. Not on the mouth. Just on the cheek, just a quick peck, and Taemin jerks back and flinches and his eyes go wide.

“Happy birthday,” Kibum laughs, and he leaves a still-confused Taemin in the empty dressing room, blinking several times in a row, quickly, trying to compose himself.

Because his heart is racing in his chest, and his lungs feel like they can barely hold in any air, and he swears he’s going to pass out. Because Kibum kissed him. Kibum kissed him. Kibum kissed him.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around what was going on. Suho finds him eight minutes later, questions him on why he just disappeared, and drags him out to the van so they can go back to the dorm.

“Kibum kissed me,” Taemin mumbles in an airy voice, letting Suho drag him around the studio to leave. 

“He what?” Suho gasps, stopping and making Taemin run into him and then holding Taemin’s arms.

“He kissed me,” Taemin mumbles, still blinking too fast. “And gave me earrings. For my birthday.”

“Did he hurt you? Did he do anything to you? Are you alright?”

“I’m just confused.”

“We can talk when we get home,” Suho says quickly in a hushed voice, and he keeps a firm arm around Taemin’s back to guide him out to the van where the other members are already waiting with the managers.

Suho brings Taemin into his bedroom as soon as they get back to the dorm, shuts the door, tells the others to leave them alone for a little bit and kicks them away when he knows they’re trying to listen at the door. 

“Did he touch you?” Suho asks in a quiet voice, sitting Taemin down on the bed and holding his hands. “Did he do anything to you that hurt you? Made you feel uncomfortable? Did he harass you?”

“He just kissed my cheek,” Taemin says. “It didn’t really make me uncomfortable or anything. I just - I just-”

“It’s alright,” Suho says softly. “You can tell me anything, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I just don’t understand why he’d kiss me,” Taemin says. “Or give me a birthday present.”

They spend a while just talking about things, and Suho lets Taemin stay in his room and talk about anything he wants. And Suho, who’s actually friends with Minho, sends him a series of texts essentially asking him, “What the fuck does Kibum think he’s doing to one of my kids?”

It leads to Kibum somehow getting Taemin’s number, which leads to them texting each other for a couple days, then calling each other, then Kibum eventually tells Taemin to meet him at a coffee shop one morning.

Taemin wears the earrings Kibum got him. Kibum notices. Taemin buys Kibum a latte. They go back to Kibum’s car and kiss each other for thirty minutes in a dark parking structure. Kibum gives Taemin a hoodie to wear home.

“You’re infuriatingly pretty,” Kibum tells him between kisses. 

It makes Taemin giggle, a little nervous still, and wholly unexperienced when it comes to navigating any sort of romance.

“Is that a good thing?” Taemin whispers, pulling back and licking at his lips. They’re starting to feel chapped.

“A great thing,” Kibum assures him, moving a hand to brush Taemin’s hair out of his face. 

“Do you still hate me?” Taemin asks, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck and all up his arms as he feels Kibum’s fingers run along his forehead.

“I don’t think I ever really did.”

Taemin smiles at him, giggling a little, and retreats into the hoodie Kibum gave him to wear. He can’t get enough of the way it smells, buries his nose in the collar, twirls the drawstrings in his fingers.

“I think I like you a lot,” Taemin whispers, the words muffled in the fabric.

“I think I like you a lot, too.”

It makes Taemin feel warm and fuzzy and giggly, especially when Kibum leans over and kisses his cheek again. 

[popculturebuffet]

Toons for Our Times: Star Vs: Demoncism

Halloween Havoc BEGINS! And with Tomtober this same month, i’m taking another of my on and off looks at Tom! Tom tries to tackle his literla nd figurative  personal demons the natural way: by having a creepy anti-demon cult that’s never explained suck them out of his body. For some reason Star has a problem with this. We also get Ponyhead in a robe, the wonders of reflectcor and free toys from the toychest for being such a good boy. Face your demons under the cut. 

Welcome boys, ghouls and that bootiful technicolor rainbow inbetween, to halloween havoc! MUAHAHHAHA.  You might be wondering a few things. What the hell that is, isn’t that also the title of a bunch of old wcw pay per views, and have I gone insane. In order it’s usually my catchy term the past two years and this current one for my binging of halloween films and logging and reviewing them on my leterboxd account, but I decided to expand it to here since while it’s not my first halloween on here it’s the first both reviewing animation and planning ahead, I decided why not reuse a good title here.  As for the wcw thing.. well yeah. It’s a great title, neither WWE, who I think still owns the copyright, nor WCW”s Heir Apparent AEW are using it right now despite being one of the best recurring Pay-Per-View titles either promotions had. Maybe not in actualy MATCH QUALITy but that name.. it just sings to me so i’m using it for my weird blog. I’m not making any money of this so why not. And as for my sanity that left a long time ago. So prepare for a month of ghouls, ghosts, goblins, lichs, scooby doo parodies, long forgotten characters, and some suprises and pies of all sizes. THIS... IS....

So to start us off, every year my pal @jess-the-vampire​ does a monthly event known as tomtober, a celebration of all things tom lucitor. And since I started hte tomtropsective for that and still am behind, I figured why not celebrate that, and the fact I can’t draw so I can’t do day 1 as a chat or anything, by continuing the tale of everyone’s faviorite teen demon.  Thankfully unlike last time, or next time wink wonk, there’s not a TON of other plot stuff to fill in. There is one important bit not to this episode but to the series as a whole: Eclipsa is here, since Moon trying to screw her out of the deal she made backried once toffee actually died... as did you know keepiung him alive instead of dealing with eclipsa being free and having the comissoin to back her on it. Nice job moon. Real nice. So yeah Eclipsa’s around.. dosen’t effect this episode but given tom’s involved in two of the biggest plot important episodes in the show, AND one deals with the direct fallout of one of those episodes i’m probably going to have to cover her soon to get to more tom anyway so might as well prepare for that now. 

So yeah this episode’s entreily a straight line from last time and opens picking up on the end of that episode: Star is calling tom wondering when their gonna get that Cornshake. Thankfully she gets an answer. Unthankfully.. it’s from a VERY sweaty ponyhead. 

So that was my own personal hell. Anyways she’s so.. sweaty.. GAHHHHHHH, because she’s keeping a secret and much like me she can’t keep her mouth shut about something she wants to talk about for very long, so we find out what she knows: SHe ran into tom who swore her not to tell Star he was getting a Demoncisim. Which suprises me.. not the demoncism thing the fact Pony would actually listen to anyone else.. Star included. LIke it’s the one thing about this episode that dosen’t quite fit: She’s such a selfish, toxic asshole, though Jenny Slate bless her makes her at least entertaining at times but even she has limits, it just dosen’t track she’d care what Tom thought unless we saw it for ourselves. Pony is ONLY capable of carring about star so while I could see tom framing it as for her own good, it’d be nice if the episode just came out and said that. It’d also be nice if we didn’t get sweaty ponyhead because that’s probably someone’s fetish and I.. OH GOD. 

Okay now i’ve mentally snapped from that revelation, Star lasso’s pony when she tries to escape, and we find out the demoncism is pretty self explanatory: A cermony that removes demons from one’s body.. and given tom is you know, a demon, this could end bad. So with no idea where it’s being held and it going on now, giving them little if any time to figure it out, Star suggests going to pony’s ex.. she dosen’t remember which one and apologizes for how bitchy that sounded, but we find out it’s Seahorse, Pony’s love intrest for the rest of the series and a hardcore emo rocker who even made her a song.. which is just him destroying everything and screaming. Eh i’ve seen people in emowear do far dumber. 

If those are m and m’s their pretzel. Trust me I’m a professional lardass, I know my delcious candy coated choclates. Anyways our dynamic-ish duo head to Seahorse at his job at a relfectcor store, basically a phone store, and is basically a hollowed out shell of a human being with no real personality or free will of his own.. so THAT’S how we got Ted Cruz. Ponyhead natrually breaks down when he dosen’t recognize her at all, which is one of the few time’s i’ve actually cared about her feelings: I mean having your ex just.. forget you exist.. tha’ts rough buddy. I feel bad for her.. I didn’t know she had emotions. I thought her heart and brain were both a black hole.. mostly becasue I thought ponyhead’s hearts and brains were the same organ. Star does however manage to get the map they need to Tom. 

Our heroines find the Demonicsim site and a bunch of creepy guys in robes iwth red glowing eyes.. who are never explained honestly. More on that in a minute. So ponyhead distracts them with one of the greatest  gags in the series history

I mean just.. look at it. The way the robe drapes, the way her nose sticks out much like a certain penguins, the way she decides to distract everyone with petty minute like voting on robes.. it’s fucking great. I may not like pony a LOT but she can be really damn funny> The issues that she often isn’t funny enough to ofset her jackassery. Here though even with my jabs at her.. she works and I like it.  So Star confronts Tom, wondering AGAIN if this is another half assed tactic to win her back.. and her flip flop attitude with tom is starting to annoy me. It fits her personality, and don’t get me wrong as i’ve made abudnatnly clear in past reviews his actions in blood moon ball and ESPECIALLY mr.candle cares were super not okay, so i’ts okay NOT to forget how badly things went last time when your considering getting back together with someone. It’s NOT okay however to hold it over someone’s head forever like any moment their going to snap back into being a manipulative doucheweasel when they’ve left you alone for around 8 months.. and Id id my calcualtion. The timeline of the show is pretty solid up to season 4: Season 1 was star’s 1st semister at echo creek academy, season 2 was her second and as it turned out final one, and season 3 covers Summer , fall and part of next spring. Though again how another summer dosen’t happen until towards the end of season 4 is dumb and I’ll probably rant about that at a later point. Point is since MCC was at the start of season 2, that means it happened around say january or feburary, with Demonicsim probably happening around say march. So he’s left you alone for around 8 months, silver bell ball included. It’s unfair to assume he’s still schemeing when he let you go months ago. H’es made it obvious via his .. everything he’d take you back in an instant, he’s just being patient and not pushing it because he’s no longer as big an asshole, and trying to be respectful. Cut him a break.  Thankfully this gets put down quick with Tom explaning he wants to be better for himself: Like last time he was inspired by her trying to be better herself, and wants to.. but as we’ve established.. he dosen’t know HOW to be nice or a better person. He wasn’t raised in an enviroment that was really condusive to that as nice as his own parents are. Their the exception to the underworld being mostly dicks not the rule, as we’ll see next time. I.. can relate with my own issues with anxiety , depression and, yes, anger. I too have trouble keeping it in and hate feeling bitchy all the time or depressed and just want it to stop. I think anyone with a mental ilness just wants it to STOP to be gone and to be able to live a happy life. But there’s no magic button that fixes your issues, your traumas or your mental health like that. No pill that can fix it just ones that help ease it down to managable. And as i’ve learned the hard way YOU have to work at it, YOU have to make the effort. There’s no easy way out. And while Tom thinks htere is here, it’s very clear it’s a huge risk, and Star’s right that he shoudlnt’ go thorugh with it and that he could seriously hurt himself. But Tom’s in pain and just wants to be happy, to be normal, to be not angry anymore and I gotta tell you if , even if it was risky, there was a way to cure my depression or anger issues or anxiety, not my atuisim tha’ts part of me and not something that needs a fucking cure just more understanding and awarness, but if I could cure those other three things? I would. It’s paart of me sure but it’s a part of me I HATE. So I understand why tom’s doing this even despite the danger: because he’s at his wits end, desperate and this will help he hopes.. it can’t get WORSE, so why not? Evne if he’s wrong here i’ts hard not to understand why he’s so stubborn about it , for me at least.  Star leaves, and takes Ponycloak with her and they go to punch trees: Both to relive and because Pony hates tree. Probably because she went to tree court once and they tried to send her to tree jail. 

I mean she’ll probably get thrown back in there for this but still. Anyways the exerocisim comes. And NOW we can talk about this cult and.. while I understand why they never came back, they were really only necessary for this, I wish they had. I mean a mysterious cult with the power to restrain someone as strong as tom, acess to anti-magic chains the ONLY time we see something like this outside of the comission, and a hatred of demons includign referring to Tom as “Son of the blight” meaning they clearly hate and would destroy Wrathmelor if they could, yet also function as a perfectly legal orginzation the comission or the lucitors themselves haven’t swatted yet. There’s a LOT to unpack here they never did. The leader is also hliarious alteranting between creepy overlord and your dentist after a long apointment as a kid. But the ritual begins and it .. dosen’t go well with tom getting glowy blue lines and thrashing about.. just like me when i watched Ridciulous 6. I also felt my soul was leaving my body but that was just wishful thinking. The cultists run and star runs back to Tom and we get a truly powerful and romantic scene. Unable to free him, Star just.. holds him and is there for him as he goes through this. If she can’t help him she’ll be there for him. And it’s really touching.  We then cut to the hosptial tent at the cult, where the leader goes back to dad mode. Tom feels .. well worse, he just had surgery, as someone who had a tooth yanked out last month I can relate, and is suprised to see only one tiny soul demon as the sum of his anger. But it turns out, NOPE, being you know, the son of a rather powerful demon with a rather pwoerful b loodline, he’s FULL of them, and it woudl take 13 years to do this.. and tom’s naturally bummed because no one wants the equipvlent of having a wisdom tooth pulled a week for over a decade. Also because he now can’t get better.. but Star gently reassures him he’s already on the right track just by wanting to. As I said with most mental issues.. there’s no easy way out but it can get better if you put the work in and tom realizes.. there’s no quick way out after all. Just a long road.. but h’es not alone on it anyomore. But he at least gets a tiny demon in a jar and a toy out of the toychest for being a good boy.. and that’s nto me making shit up that’s the actual episode with him and star taking pinwheels and holding hands to Ponyhead’s annoyance. Which okay yeah they had a bad time last time I get tat Pony.. but your the last person to question ANYONE’S life decisions. Still I wish we’d had ane pisode of pony growing to accept them so we at least know WHY she’s so against it but oh well. 

Final Thoughts: This was a good one. Is it hte best the show’s put out? Probably not as the first part drags slightly but the second half at the demoncisim is just good character stuff, good comedy, and has a good payoff. I honestly like this way more on the second watch.  Though part of that is the context of the time: I admitted to being a starco shipper and having her get back with tom just felt like your standard “put a character in a relationship to complicate the main pairing” bullshit I always hate at this stage. Before anyone relaizes they like each other? Sure but at this point it was clearly just to drag things out. However with Marco getting progressivley worse and the two having good chemsitry.. I grew to like em.. and by the season finale, I just shipped all three together, before pivoting to marco and kelly. This couple grew on me for reasons w’ell geti nto as we go, even if it ended bad for reasons we’ll again get into. Oh we’ll get into them. With a knife. But yeah overall a great episode with a great concept, good character stuff, and some REALLY fucking funny gags. The show is damn good at comedy and I forget it sometimes. Next time we look at Tom, he’ll be in the background as Marco tries to help Kelly with a breakup. And sometime this month we’ll be looking at the halloween special which i’ll be watching for the very first time! So stay tuned, stay safe and Happy Halloween. 

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

no one else has reblogged ask meme Mondays so I'm just going fucking apeshit with u. from the big boy: b7 for raini bc it's funny, c1 for cog bc it's inchresting, h3 for brilliance bc I know there's some gay shit going on and I want to hear more, then a17 (character proud of themselves or ur proud of ur rp as them) L5 and L6 for whomsoever u want to talk about

I won’t need a readmore for this one, I tell myself. There’s not that many questions, and they’re not proseboys. I was a fool. She’s too long to be allowed to run on people’s dashboards unrestrained 😔 Thank you! For going apeshit!!

Raini

B7. How do they respond to babies crying in public? I guarantee the image you have for how Raini would react to a crying baby is 10000% correct. She’s unhappy. Uncomfortable. Unimpressed. Can you please make that thing be quiet. Why did you have it if you can’t mange it. This is why she’s never having kids. Like she’s not gonna say anything to the parents or shoot them dirty looks, because she’s not that specific flavor of asshole, but she’s going Mind Her Business and vacate the premises if possible. People who want to take care of something should just get a cat. Goddamn. There is ONE (1) baby that may qualify for an exception, and that’s Red. This is because (and please, picture Raini, the absolute picture of ‘fed up’, squatting down to look a fussy Red in the eye while she says this) “Baby Lent. You’re better than this. I know you are, and you’re letting me down. You need to stop making that noise.” This is unrelated to the question, but please also picture a Raini who was asked (blackmailed?) into babysitting using her Mage Hand to change Red’s diaper. It has nothing to do with the question but I think it’s a Very funny mental image. Thank you.

Cog

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it? Absolutely! The way Cog approaches the world is defined by three main mantras: - Kindness is a discipline, not a character trait. - Doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it is always worth doing. - If you are able to help someone, you have an obligation to do so. Between these three things, Cog sees the world in pretty black and white terms. There are right decisions, and wrong ones. The difference between the two is usually clear to anyone who cares to look, and so most of the evil in the world is born of selfishness. Consequently, Cog does very poorly in morally grey situations. She will commit without hesitation to any course of action that she deems “right” and “kind” no matter how drastic or dangerous it is, but she pretty much shuts down the second she’s faced with a decision that has consequences for someone regardless of what she does.  I’m sure that has not, and will not, come in her life ever at all. Ahah!  I think originally, this worldview was born of naivety. She grew up that religious kind of super sheltered where everything in the secular world was dangerous and dirty, and so when Cog began to realize that definitely wasn’t the case she made the choice to intentionally see the best in people and the world around her to fight what she was told growing up. When she started traveling with her party and actually seeing more of the world than the extremes of a) shitty cult town b) shiny clean magic school, she began to realize that the true state of the Wasteland was somewhere between what her Mama had told her and what she wanted to believe it was. But I’ve never in my life made a character who is stubborn as hell deep down, so instead of letting the world she found herself in change her Cog took a deep breath, rolled up her sleeves, and settled in to be the one changing it by loving and helping the people around her.

Brilliance

H3. Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right? I think Brilliance absolutely adores the idea of two people being made for one another. Two souls, wandering the world looking for one another? Who slot together so perfectly that when they find each other it’s clear they never could have fit anywhere else? Bruh. Yes, she knows love takes work. Sometimes you and your partner are going to disagree, and sometimes there’s going to be conflict. The world isn’t “love at first sight” then smooth sailing for the rest of your life. But you put in the work to make your lives better, together, because the universe gave you this person to care for. Maybe there are many people who you could be happy with, and those relationships aren’t anything to look down on. But when you find The One, Brilliance thinks, you know. She certainly did.

Don’t Worry About It

A17. What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves? Gonna hijack this question to talk about rp moments I’m proud of because Alex sorta kinda gave me permission to do that! Alright! For Raini, the biggest rp moment I’m proud of was her “I’m getting our memories back” speech a few sessions ago, specifically the line, “We’ve been fighting with one hand tied behind our backs for too long. If we’re going to die fighting this thing, I want to know exactly what I’m fighting for.” Morgan and I had been planning to kick off our return from July Hell Hiatus with Wish Two for a couple of days, which meant I was lucky enough to be able to spend a little while planning what to say. I feel like that line in particular embodies Raini’s unwavering confidence in her magic, her determination, and her specific brand of caring for the people around her without actually admitting that’s what she’s doing. I also really liked the way the scene of her apologizing to the party for being Bitchy post losing Magic for a minute went! Idk if anyone else remembers it, because it was pretty short in game, but! I thought it was a very good moment of Raini finding the most Roundabout way to say “thank you for looking out for me while I was defenseless”.  If I can pat myself on the back a little, my Cog monologues kick Ass. The most recent one was when she was talking to Ace about how War is Bad (radical, I know) and there was a moment where she looked at him and said, “...I’m not going to ask for your help, because I don’t know what I’ll do if I do and you say no.” Which. OOF. That was her and I realizing in real time that she and Ace were very much on different sides of this issue. When the session ended everyone said they Loved how good and hurtful that conversation was and I :’) Also, there was a really small moment when Cog was pleading for Maelo’s life (when Sunny’s dad had him locked in a cat carrier. It’s a Long story, made slightly better by the fact that Maelo was wildshaped into a cat at the time) and Cog went Straight for the dad heartstrings by sniffling and asking if, please, would Robert at least let her say goodbye to her friend before he killed him? Please? 😢  She is using her baby face for EVIL!  And oh my god how could I forget! Arcane Timeout! When the party went back to New Alexandria and was confronted by Ace for helping a prisoner escape (which, in fairness, Maelo did do) and Cog brought the encounter screeching to a halt by casting Wall of Stone to make a timeout hut with herself and Ace inside. She then sat herself down, looked Ace dead in the eye, and told him that the wall wasn’t coming down until he actually talked to her, or until he broke her concentration on the spell. She banked hard on him not being willing to hurt her, and it paid off. There were tears all around, both in and out of character. It was Wonderful. Also! I do just want recognition for the fact that I did not give into my impulses to be a little Shit as Cog last session by subtle casting Heal in Ace’s face after he Counterspelled my Healing Word. it was what I Rebekah wanted to do more than anything; unfortunately Cog is a better person than I am. There is No worse feeling than wanting so badly to do something you have no choice but to admit isn’t in character. Rip.  For whatever reason, all of my favorite Brilliance rp moments came during combat. Pressing her forehead to Sabre’s after he died in silent grief, forcefully taking a Narzugon off his Nightmare and then using Misty Step to mount it herself and take off after her friend, planting herself in the chokepoint of a hallway to stare down three minotaurs so she could keep her party safe behind her, pushing deeper into the hellwasp nest to rescue Dembe and Sabre despite knowing that doing so all but destroyed her chance of making it out alive, the list goes on. There were good out of combat moments too (despite the rest of the party’s best efforts 🙄), but I feel like for once I made a character who really shone in combat.  oh GOD I just remembered one really really good rp moment, when our rogue Zihro died when he got separated from the party during combat. We finished taking care of the main devil we were fighting, then began searching the dungeon for Zihro and the npc he was with. We, instead, found both of their corpses. Dembe looked to Brilliance, our healer, and demanded to know why she was just standing there instead of fixing their friend. We were only level three or four at the time, so Brilliance had to tell Dembe, again and again, that she couldn’t fix Zihro. It was too late, she wasn’t powerful enough yet, her goddess wouldn’t answer a prayer like that- It was a rough scene, and without question one of the best rp moments I’ve had with that group. Tae, if you’re reading this, you’re the only one with rights. Also, please unfollow this blog immediately.  Now as a quick pick-me-up after that mess, Pip’s best rp moment was when our barbarian Durokal -who couldn’t read and had a habit of running off and causing Problems- found a plaque he could tell had five words on it, and called Pip over to read it for him when Pip finished chasing him down. Pip, annoyed and out of breath and all of two feet tall, looked up at this 7 foot half-orc and told him, “It says: I’m. Gonna. Kick. Your. Ass.” Also, he regularly called very powerful figures in Barovia by sweet nicknames with “Mr.” in the front. As a sign of Respect. Because he’s the Best. sdfhsdkfj he also he couldn’t think of a fake name quick enough one time so he told an npc that is name was Dick and he was Very embarrassed about it. She: bought it!

Brilliance, Again

L5. Which OC do you think is the most decent morally or behaviorally?  AKA, which is supposed to a “good guy”? The answer is Cog, but we already went in depth on her morals this ask. She’s HAD enough screen time let’s move on. Brilliance is the only other character who, if asked, would say they saw themselves as a good guy instead of just “a person”. She strives to do right by the people around her, and to protect the light and beauty found in the world. She doesn’t have the same illusions about the world wanting to be a good place that Cog does, and she very much understands that sometimes the best thing you can do for the world is to put the things that make it dangerous six feet under. What’s interesting I think is that, despite being a paladin, she isn’t Lawful Good! She’s Neutral Good, because you know what? She wants to do the right thing, and laws aren’t always right. It’s up to you, as a person with a mind and free will and agency, to look at a situation and decide what you think is the right thing to do. And, for Brilliance, generally the right thing to do is heft her sword, raise her shield, and face trouble head on.

Raini, Once More

L6. Which OC do you think is the worst morally or behaviorally? AKA, which is supposed to be a “bad guy”? I don’t have any evil aligned characters, because I personally find things like “getting along with my party members” sexy, but the character who’s the shittiest and the worst is obviously Raini. She’s not a bad person per say, she’s just selfish and results oriented. Very much “the ends justify the means” and in a party like hers she’s aware that somebody has to be the bad guy sometimes, and she’s not afraid to make sure that’s her. She’s also very very likely to fall victim to her hubris making her feel like she definitely knows what’s best, and acting on that maybe without consulting other people (see: the whole fucking premise of the campaign). She sees a goal, she sees a way to accomplish that goal, so why shouldn’t she begin taking the necessary steps to reach it? I think the events of the game have mellowed this flaw out a little bit, but you can still see traces of it in the way she, for example, wordlessly handed Lent a bunch of diamonds before launching her consciousness into the Abeast and very nearly dying in there without consulting with the party first. It happens!  Also, behaviorally, she’s just. I mean. She’s like that. The worst. And that, I promise, will never change. 

[once-upon-a-spemily]

What You Really Need (2/2)

Summary: Hanna is sure (she’s sure!) that Spencer and Emily have slept together. Now she just needs them to admit it. And, preferably, fall deeply in love, while they’re at it.

Part 2 of the Hanna-POV-spemily-au. Part one is here

So Hanna like. Knows now. She knows Spencer and Emily have slept together. And she is, frankly, a little offended that neither of them have told her yet. She’s known Spencer since they were seven years old and she’s known Emily since they were both like eighteen so what the hell?

They’re two of her best friends, and if they had sex, they should’ve told her.

She decides to try and get it out of Spencer.

Emily is surprisingly stubborn. With Spencer, she can leverage their years of friendship.

She meets Spencer for coffee on one Sunday and waits approximately five minutes before asking, “so, any cute guys or girls lately?”

Spencer chokes on her coffee. “What?”

Hanna shrugs. “You stopped seeing Alex like, ages ago, and you haven’t told me anything about your current love life. So. What gives? Are you a nun, are you trying to friend-break-up with me? What’s going on?”

Spencer laughs. “Not a nun,” she says, and licks the excess coffee off of her stirrer. “Also not breaking up with you, sorry Han. You’re my forever friend.”

It makes Hanna’s heart so happy she almost forgets she’s supposed to be pissed that Spencer is keeping secrets.

“Okay, good,” she says. “But seriously, nothing?”

Spencer chews on the stick a moment before making a noncommittal noise. Hanna quirks an eyebrow. It works. Spencer lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Hanna, seriously? Do you need me to set up cameras in my bedroom?”

“Ew, no that’s sick,” Hanna says. “Just...keep me in the loop, okay?”

“You got it.”

--

So. That was a bust.

--

She doesn’t see Spencer and Emily together for a while. She doesn’t see them apart that much more.

Spencer’s got some big case, and lord knows Hanna’s client list only seems to grow each day. They’re all adults now, which blows, mostly, but hey, she gets to live alone with the love of her life and legally drink alcohol and eat cake whenever so. Perks?

When she does see them, apart of course, she can tell they’re both stressed. Emily’s patience is basically nonexistent and Spencer’s focus is never fully there. She’s always in her head, solving problems she can’t work on at the moment. Aria’s got deadlines upon deadlines, and is basically off the grid entirely.

Hanna’s casually looking at rental houses in the tropics because lord knows they all need to get away.

Her computer makes a small ping noise and a calendar notification pops up. They haven’t had a game night in months. They’re very overdue. She decides then and there that game night, next week, is the perfect remedy for all of their stress.

--

Emily brings someone to game night.

Hanna is short-circuiting.

Emily. Brings. Someone. To. Game. Night.

Someone named Sara Harvey who’s pretty but also looks a little feral and Hanna thought Emily meant bring a friend not bring a...whatever the fuck Sara is to her.

Hanna tries to be subtle about it but the first thing she does when Emily introduces the girl is to shoot Spencer a glance.

Spencer looks ten times more shocked than Hanna feels. She looks.

Shit. She looks like someone just kicked her in the chest.

Oh no.

--

Spencer recovers faster than Hanna does. She goes about the evening like. Fine. Hanna guesses.

She seems fine.

“Hey, Spence!” Emily calls from where she’s standing by the alcohol. “What’s your poison?”

Spencer casts a disinterested look at Emily. “I’m good, thanks.” And she goes back to talking to Aria.

Okay. Maybe ‘fine’ is a generous term.

For a second, Emily falters. She looks half-confused, half-sad, but she seems to brush it off and pours herself a drink.

It takes Hanna all of five minutes to realize that this game night is not going to relieve her stress. Aria is doing great, because she is utterly oblivious. Caleb is now on edge because he knows Hanna is. Spencer is being petty and, frankly, kind of bitchy, but in a way where you don’t realize she’s being a bitch until like a minute after she’s done talking.

Sara is. Weird. And Emily is visibly confused and frustrated by the whole thing.

She clearly has no idea why Spencer is so pissed off.

The room is full of tension, and maybe jealousy, and Hanna is trying to enjoy playing Hungry Hungry Hippos but it’s really, really hard.

They take a pause after Aria wins. Caleb goes to pick out the next game, and Hanna pretends she doesn’t see Spencer pour her next drink with a very liberal hand.

Hanna’s torn. She’s a little mortified, she’s a little angry at Spencer for being so careless, and she’s also a little heartbroken for her.

Caleb pulls out the scrabble box.

“No,” Hanna says quickly. “Hell no. I hate that game.”

She does. She always loses.

She also refuses to play with a tipsy, jealous Spencer. That’s a bad combination.

“What about Would You Rather?” Aria asks from her spot on the couch.

“No,” Hanna says firmly.

Aria lets out a sigh of impatience.

The next thing Caleb pulls out is Twister. Hanna’s heart catches in her throat. Jesus, they can’t really catch a break tonight, can they? Hanna can feel everyone getting impatient so she just swallows and nods.

“Sure.” She says. “Fine.”

Hanna sits the first round out to order pizzas, even though it’s a little late, but she still watches carefully.

It takes about a minute before everyone’s straining on the mat, Emily and Sara tangled around each other as they try to stay upright.

“Sorry,” Sara says.

“Don’t be,” Emily replies, in a tone that’s more than a little flirtatious and Hanna wants to gag.

Spencer tumbles not a second later. She gets up without a word and goes to pour herself another drink. She skips the wine and goes right for the tequila this time.

“Sit with me,” Hanna says, waving her over. Spencer does and Hanna rests her head on Spencer’s shoulder as they watch.

She wishes she could say something to comfort her. But she doesn’t want to make things more awkward than they already are.

The pizza arrives twenty minutes later and they stop playing for a little while. Sara leaves after they eat, claiming she has some work to do, and Hanna doesn’t really care, she’s just fine with the girl leaving. She’s weird.

They start playing twister again after dinner, and it’s way easier with four people than with five. That doesn’t stop Aria from falling in the first minute.

She’s short. She never does well at twister.

Hanna’s the next one out and it’s because Caleb tickles her, the cheater, even if he denies it. She knows she felt him tickling the back of her thigh.

Spencer gets right-foot-yellow on the next spin and that positions her...well. It positions her practically on all fours, face to face with Emily, mere inches a part as they try and retain their balance.

“Hi,” Spencer says. It’s the first word she’s said to Emily directly in over an hour.

Emily cocks her head and she smiles of all things. “Hi.”

Spencer blinks, slow and lazy, as she stares at Emily.

Hanna cannot believe they went from jealousy to this in like...three hours. What the hell?

Emily gets left-hand-blue and she’s trying to stretch past Spencer, but she can’t quite reach and she lets out this little noise and Spencer wobbles and then falls, and Emily falls immediately after.

“Dang it!” Emily says.

Spencer’s laughing, and Aria’s laughing, and Emily’s laughing, and fine, Hanna joins in too, because that was cute and also funny.

They wrap up twister and move onto pictionary.

--

At the end of the night, when everyone’s getting ready to go, Hanna notices Spencer and Emily standing together as they get on their coats.

“We’re good?” Spencer asks, ever so quietly.

Emily says something Hanna can’t hear, but based on the answering smile on Spencer’s face, they’re on their way to being okay

Thank god. Hanna doesn’t think she could survive another night like tonight.

--

Two weeks later, Hanna notices that Emily has unfollowed Sara on all social media.

Hanna scoffs. Yeah, there was no way that was ever going to be a serious thing.

--

Spring time means girls trip.

Spring time has always meant girls’ trip, and now, for the first time, Hanna gets to go with Aria, Emily, and Spencer all together.

She’d be worried about having Spencer and Emily in the same room, but the two of them shockingly behaved at Hanna’s birthday dinner so she thinks they’ll be fine. Probably. There’s still some weird tension but they’re like...civil now. So it’s fine.

Anyway. The place they booked is stunning. It’s this gorgeous house on the shore, overlooking white sand and clear blue water. It has it’s own private pool that has amazing views of the water, and everything is lush and green and sunny and tropical.

It’s already stocked with food and liquor and Hanna is already in love.

She claims the master bedroom, which opens right to a private balcony where you can jump right into the pool, basically, and no one argues with her.

“Okay!” Hanna calls once the others have claimed their bedrooms and put their suitcases away. “Everyone change into swimsuits now, and let’s start drinking!”

They’re all laughing at her, but they do as she says, at least.

Hanna takes a little bit longer because once she’s in her white bikini, with her sunglasses on, so what if she throws open the balcony doors and snaps a few pictures to send to Caleb. She’s hot, he’s her boyfriend, it’s like...practically her job to let him know!

“Hanna!” Emily calls her name from somewhere in the house. “Can you put sunscreen on my back?”

Hanna like. Really doesn’t want to do that. She’s busy. She gets an idea, and grins to herself. “Sorry, Em, my hands are full. Spencer, will get Emily’s back?”

There’s a beat of silence, and Hanna wonders if Spencer even heard her but then, out of nowhere, comes Spencer’s voice. “Yeah, I got it.”

Hanna smirks.

Hanna takes one more picture for Caleb and then goes back inside, winding her way through the house and outside to the pool. It’s an infinity pool, too. God she loves luxury.

She tries not to feel smug when she turns to see Emily sitting on one of the lounge chairs, with Spencer behind her, rubbing sunscreen into her back.

“Make sure it’s all soaked in!” Hanna practically sings.

Spencer shoots her a glare.

What? It’s not Hanna’s fault that Emily cares about her skin.

Hanna gets in the water - which is divine - and Emily and Spencer switch after a minute. Emily is trying very, very hard not to stare at Spencer, Hanna can tell.

Aria comes out a minute later, carrying a tray of gin and tonics, and finally. Vacation has begun.

--

They spend most of the day by the pool or in the pool, drinking gin and tonics and soaking up the sun. Once it starts to set, Emily towels off and ties a little wrap into a makeshift skirt around her waist before going into the kitchen to start prepping dinner.

Spencer floats around the water for a minute longer, makes a good show of it, and then towels off as well. Hanna tries not to grin as she watches Spencer go into the kitchen.

They’re actually tolerable on this trip. It’s amazing what a little bit of R&R will do.

“How’d you even find this place?” Aria asks.

Hanna shrugs and pushes herself up onto her elbows. She’s been out of the pool for a while, working on her tan. “Caleb,” she says simply. “He did some work on the resort’s site. They loved him. He even got us a discount.”

“Jesus, Hanna, you sure know how to pick em!”

Hanna grins.

Yeah, her boyfriend is great.

There’s a crashing sound from the kitchen, but instead of hearing Spencer cursing or anything, all Hanna hears is giggling and Emily shouting, “we’re fine! Keep relaxing!”

“I can’t believe you thought they slept together,” Aria says with a snort.

Hanna turns to stare at her, half-offended. “Excuse you.” She has half a mind to counter Aria’s argument but Spencer and Emily are right inside and they’re just starting to get back to normal and Hanna’s not going to be the one to ruin that. No way.

They finally get up to go inside when they can smell food, and Spencer and Emily are both moving around the kitchen in almost perfect sync, assembling dinner.

If nothing else, Hanna’s just really happy that all of her friends are such good friends. It’s her dream come true, really.

--

Their second day, they have a private surf lesson. It’s one of only a few scheduled activities they have, because Hanna prefers doing nothing on vacation.

Also, she really wanted to see her friends fall off the surfboard. Everyone knows it’s going to happen. And it’s going to be hilarious.

Their instructor is cute and Hanna is like 90% sure he and Aria will hook up before the vacation is over.

They start with their boards flat on the sand, learning the motions and the positions.

Emily’s done this before, because of course she has. Emily takes to water like...well, like a fish takes to water.

Hanna’s sitting on her ass at one point, watching the others, and Spencer’s got it, mostly, but her foot’s in the wrong position or something, so Emily hops off of her board and walks over, standing behind Spencer.

“Looking good,” Emily says. “But it’s a little more...here.” She reaches down, wrapping her fingers around Spencer’s ankle and pulling back. Then she stands up again and settles her hands on Spencer’s hips, shifting them so they’re parallel.

“Okay?” Spencer asks and yeah, her voice is a little strangled, Hanna notices.

“Yeah, you got it,” Emily says, and she does not, actually, take her hands off of Spencer’s hips yet. “You’ve got good form. Have you ever done this before?”

Spencer shakes her head. “No. I do tennis, and used to play field hockey and that’s about it.”

Emily hums a little and then shrugs, and then she releases Spencer, walking back to her board.

Hanna can’t believe Aria isn’t seeing this shit.

She can’t really dwell on it, though, because now they’re taking their boards down to the water to try this for real this time.

Aria wipes out first. The instructor helps her up out of the water, fetching her board for her. Hanna, unfortunately, is next.

People were not meant to stand on objects that aren’t attached to solid ground, she decides. This whole sport is stupid.

She comes up out of the water, and Spencer’s down too. Only Emily is left and Emily is like, good. Hanna reaches out for Spencer, grabbing her hand as they make their way to shore, but they both just kind of. Stop. And they stand in the shallows, boards under their arms and just watch Emily for a minute.

“Wow,” Spencer says. Hanna looks at her, looks at how bright Spencer looks, and how breathless she is and she smiles to herself.

“Yeah,” she says. “Wow.”

Emily finishes riding the wave, and starts paddling back to shore. She’s the only one of them that actually did something. Hanna starts clapping, and Emily blushes, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear.

“Seriously, Han?”

“You did great!”

“I almost fell off like, four times,” Emily says, rolling her eyes.

“Uh, hello, did you see us? You were amazing,” Hanna says.

“She’s right,” Spencer says, but she’s dead serious. “You looked great out there.”

“Oh,” Emily says, looking at Spencer now. She blinks and she smiles, then, all slow and surprised and content. “Thanks.”

--

Their third day is rainy. So they spend it inside drinking Tequila Sunrises and playing board games.

They have like, four days left, so Hanna isn’t too bothered, even if she’d rather rip out her hair than play scrabble again.

She drinks, she calls Caleb, she listens to the sound of the rain against the pool, against the roof, against the palm trees. It’s a good day.

Spencer wins at poker, again, and they order some food from the hotel to be brought to their guest house. One of the perks of staying on site.

They watch movies that night, still drinking, and when they all go to bed, Hanna cracks her bedroom door open so she can listen to the rain.

--

Hanna wakes up at midnight, and it’s still raining. The wind has picked up, too. It’s not enough to rattle the house, or anything, but it is enough to spray some rain onto her bed. She yawns, and debates putting up with it, but she gets another spray of rain in the face and untangles her legs from the sheets.

She pads across the floor, and closes the door to the balcony. Then, she turns around to go back to bed. Except. You know. Now she’s awake, and her head’s kind of killing her from all the tequila. It’s not quite a hangover, but it has the makings of a future hangover and Hanna so does not have time for that.

She decides to get some water before going back to bed.

She slides open her bedroom door and she. Well.

She hears it before she sees it.

“Spencer.”

Hanna’s mind is still half-asleep, so it takes a while to catch up to her eyes, which have adjusted to the light just enough to see that Spencer has Emily pressed against the kitchen counter and oh my god, they’re kissing.

They’re kissing and it’s...shit, it’s a lot, there are hands everywhere, and Spencer is trying (somewhat successfully) to tug Emily’s shirt down.

“Spencer, please,” and then there’s a moan, and Hanna yelps before she can help it because she does not need to see this!

They both freeze up and, thank god, detach from one another. They have the decency to look at least a little embarrassed and Hanna can’t help it. She can’t. She just can’t!

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she blurts.

Emily and Spencer trade a sheepish, and confused, look. “What?”

“You two!” Hanna huffs. She throws her hands in the air. “God, it took you two long enough!”

“Hanna–” Spencer starts, but Hanna holds up her hand, stopping her.

She crosses the kitchen, gets a glass. Pours water in it, and then she looks pointedly at both of them. “Carry on,” she says, and then she starts off towards the bedroom again.

Before she gets there, though, she pauses and she turns around, shooting them a glare. “I’m so fucking sick of this back and forth between the two of you and I know this isn’t the first time that this is happened so listen to me very, very carefully.”

“Okay?” Emily asks.

“When we get home, you two are going on a date, already. Okay? Just like,” she gestures vaguely at both of them. “Fucking suck it up and go on a real date. Jesus.”

She walks into her room, kicks the door closed, downs the water, and then she puts in earbuds before going to bed. She really doesn’t need to hear whatever happens next.

--

She really only half-expects them to listen to her, because they’ve been frustratingly stubborn up to this point.

She’s back at home, sketching out a new design for a client, and eating one of the ice cream bars that Caleb bought her as a concession for the fact that she was right about Spencer and Emily (thank you very much) when her phone beeps.

She looks down at the screen and nearly squeals.

Spencer has texted her a picture. Of her and Emily. All dressed up. At a fancy restaurant.

A real date.

She’s so happy she could die.

Instead, she just gets back to work.

--

They all get together at Aria’s place, for once, and Hanna actually doesn’t hate the fact that she doesn’t have to host. It’s a nice change of pace. Hanna doesn’t even have to worry about cleaning. She can’t remember the last time that happened.

She and Caleb get there a little late (definitely not Hanna’s fault or anything) but they’re still there before Emily or Spencer, so she figures they’re fine.

Hanna feels pretty fucking smug when Spencer and Emily have the nerve to show up together and don’t even try to hide it.

She loves winning.

“Hey!” Aria calls from her perch on the couch. “Welcome! There’s alcohol on the counter, feel free to help yourselves!”

Emily is saying hi to Caleb, and Spencer goes over to the alcohol, looking over the selection. “Babe!” she calls. “Whiskey?”

The entire world slows for a minute, and Hanna can feel her jaw dropping. Caleb is staring. Aria is staring.

Emily just nods. “Yeah. Thanks!” she says, as if nothing just happened.

Well. That’s one way to announce you’re dating.

Aria is at Emily’s side in a minute, demanding answers, demanding the whole story, and Hanna has never felt so vindicated in her entire life, thank you very much.

They do tell a version of the story (clearly with some missing details), but Hanna can at least piece together that she was right, and they definitely slept together before New Years. She has enough tact to not blurt it out in front of the whole room, but she is definitely going to tell both Caleb and Aria “I told you so” like a million times later.

A million. Exactly.

For the first time in ages, Hanna is able to enjoy a party without like, checking to see if Emily and Spencer are still glued to each other. She doesn’t have to. She knows they are. She drinks, and she chats to people, and she snuggles up against Caleb and just kind of...goes with the flow.

It’s pretty perfect.

As usual, everyone trickles out except for Hanna, Caleb, Spencer, and Emily. No, they stay to help Aria clean up.

Hanna is walking the living room with a trashbag, picking up crumpled napkins. Caleb is scrubbing some something that spilled on the floor hours ago and left a sticky residue.

Spencer is loading the dishwasher. Emily is cleaning up the bar area.

Or at least that’s what they’re supposed to be doing.

And Emily is, ostensibly, stacking cups and wiping down the counter. But Spencer is behind her, whispering in her ear and Emily is pressing back against her, smiling to herself. Hanna rolls her eyes and goes back  to picking up trash.

Then she hears Emily’s breath hitch (like...all the way across the room. What the hell) and when she looks up again, Spencer’s hands are on Emily’s hips, one slipped under the hem of her shirt, rubbing small circles on the skin there, and Emily’s eyes are all dark. She says something that has Spencer squeezing her hips and okay, Hanna’s seen enough now.

“Yo!” she shouts, snapping to get their attention. “Get to work or get a room, just cause you two are official now doesn’t mean you can feel each other up in front of us, yeah?”

They both stare at her for a moment, and then they burst out laughing, Spencer removes her hands, but they still stay pressed together.

“Right,” Emily says. “Cause you and Caleb have never packed on the PDA.”

Hanna rolls her eyes. “PDA is one thing, foreplay is another!”

She’s just walking into a trap really, because Emily gets this slow, lazy grin on her face and she says, “oh, that’s not the foreplay.”

“Gross,” Hanna says, sticking out her tongue. She throws a wadded-up napkin at them. “Spence, take your girl home.”

Spencer quirks an eyebrow and takes Emily’s hand, pulling her away from the counter, towards the door. “Gladly.”

Hanna didn’t even realize they were done. They both call goodbye to Aria before disappearing out the front door.

She feels Caleb come up behind her, and he picks up the napkin that she threw.

“You were right,” he says. He kisses her temple quickly. “As usual.”

“Let’s be gross like them,” Hanna says, turning to face him so she can kiss him for real. “And let’s go home.”

Caleb laughs, but he takes her hand and she deposits the trash bag down the chute as they make their way out of the building.

--

Hanna gets the stomach flu. She gets the fucking stomach flu the day after her busiest week at work and she’s been dying emotionally week and now she’s dying physically.

She got it from Aria, too, so thanks for that.

In all fairness, she was the one who insisted on taking care of Aria so it’s probably her fault but still.

She’s driving home after her last, and biggest, meeting, and in the rearview mirror she can see that she’s white as a sheet. She’s sweating, but cold, and she feels like she’s about to pass out so she pulls off the interstate early.

Spencer’s place is closer than her own, so she pulls into Spencer’s parking lot and bangs on the door as loud as she can.

She really, really hopes Spencer’s home.

The door swings open, thank god, and Spencer’s there, her brows knit together.

“Hanna?”

“Hi,” she says, offering a weak smile. “Need to lay down. Maybe puke. Got a bucket?”

She stumbles into the house and Spencer grabs her arm, guiding her to the couch. Hanna squeezes her eyes shut and hears Spencer moving around the kitchen.

When she opens her eyes again there was an empty trashcan in front of her and a glass of water on the table. Spencer presses a hot washcloth to Hanna’s forehead and rubs circles on her back.

Hanna lets her eyes flutter closed and wraps her arms around herself.

She hears some feet shuffling and then, softly, someone says, “Is she okay?”

Hanna opens her eyes and sees Emily standing in the door to Spencer’s bedroom. She’s wearing one of Spencer’s old Stanford hoodies.

“I think she has whatever Aria had last week,” Spencer says. “Can you call Caleb? He should come get her. I don’t think she can get home.”

Emily nods and Hanna goes to lie down on the couch, Spencer still rubbing circles onto her back.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Didn’t realize Em was here.”

She feels Spencer shrug. “It’s fine. She’s here more often than not. No big.”

Hanna hums to herself. It is big, she wants to say. Love is always big. But she feels like crap and neither of them have even said the l word yet so she just closes her eyes and hopes Caleb comes to get her soon.

--

She and Caleb are having a picnic when she gets the text. From Spencer. She feels bad. Caleb’s brought her out to this gorgeous mountainside, and they’re overlooking this lake and he brought all of this fancy supplies so she doesn’t even have to sit in the dirt, and made like, real food, and she’s drinking wine and it’s perfect. But she can’t stop squirming with anticipation, wondering what the text says.

He nudges her. “Just look.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Han.”

She does, and nearly squeals.

“They moved in!”

There’s a picture there of Emily carrying boxes into Spencer’s house.

They’ve been together about seven months now, and it’s honestly a little overdue if you ask Hanna, because they started doing this dance almost a year ago.

She texts a quick little reply, mostly exclamation points, and then puts her phone away again, leaning into Caleb. She put her phone on silent, too.

It’s a good thing, because her attention is completely on him when, twenty minutes later, he pulls a box out of his pocket and presents her with the most gorgeous ring of all time.

--

Two years after Spencer moved to town, she proposes to Emily.

It’s not quite the “wedding in two years” estimation that Hanna had  put out there, but it’s pretty damn close and she’ll take it.

She still takes the opportunity to tell Caleb, her husband, “I told you so” when it happens.

She still cries.

She still is the undisputed queen of matchmaking.

[owlespresso]

Silicon / Mollymauk Tealeaf/Reader

IDK incubus Mollymauk AU. This is smut, so be warned. My tip jar is open! I write headcanons in exchange for donations! If you’re interested, check it out HERE. I am also open for commissions, information HERE.

Your plans for Saturday had been sitting on your couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your laptop. It would have been great, fantastic to settle your weary back against the soft couch cushions, maybe shut your eyes and take a nap because you had nowhere else to be, nothing else to do.

Needless to say, that simple plan did not come to fruition. It was your fault, honestly.

Janet, a work acquaintance with an aggravatingly big heart and the puppy dog eyes of a practiced actor, had bumbled up to your door with tears running down her cheeks. Somehow, she charmed her way into your apartment and sat on your couch, telling you that the volunteer project she’d been apart of was falling apart. Her best friend cancelled last minute, the building materials weren’t being shipped fast enough, and soon, her idea to build houses for miners near the silicon-filled caves of the outskirts would be ruined!

In her desperate time of need, who else could she turn to but you? You, who always got your work done on time? You, who worked late hours and was the star of the company? Her praises were lavish and had you been in your right mind, you would have denied her, shoved her out of your apartment and onto the cold streets where do-gooders like her belonged.

But you didn’t. For a moment, something warm and idealistic seized you, and you thought “What if I could make a difference?”.

You rationalized it in your head in a split second and soon, she was giving you a tearful hug, going on and on about how great it was to have you on the project. Then, the door shut behind her and you felt like the silent, still remnants of a town that’d just been rolled over by a hurricane.

In all honesty, you could have cancelled, but Janet had friends in the decrepit hierarchy of your workplace, so you didn’t. Doing this small favor for her would be worth it if she put in a good word for you with the higher-ups.

The toe of your sneaker hits the edge of the mirror—it this close to the door—and sends you falling. Adrenaline jolts through your system and you brace for the shattering of glass, the ripping of your skin, the howling of an ambulance, stitches, the pain of recovery—but it never comes.

You open your eyes and there’s only blackness. There’s solid floor underneath you, sure. But everything else is black. The void is chilled and no sound travels through it, not even your footsteps as you begin to move forward. As much as you should be, you aren’t panicked. Your brain scrambles to rationalize the situation and does a pretty damn good job of it.

You passed out, and this is a weird dream. Eventually, you’ll wake up in a hospital bed, the glass shards picked out of your skin and organs or wherever they wound up. You really weren’t looking forward to it, but there was nothing you could do to change the situation. The darkness that swelled around you, unmoving, static, boring. The only change is that the mild chill has actually vanished, which only makes it more dull.

Maybe you should sit down and wait? Maybe lay down and try to wake yourself up? If this is a lucid dream, then you should be able to—

Something stirs in the distance, and your heart jumps into your throat. It’s the shift of something large against solid, hard ground, a subtle but voluminous noise of giant footsteps coming closer. On instinct, you shuffle back, back, back, suddenly forgetting that this is very probably a dream as your carnal, base emotions overcome your coherency.

A pair of vibrant, solid red eyes peer out at you from the dark. Each one is the size of a dinner plate. They pierce through the veil of blackness that encompasses the area, their soft glow freezing you in place. Somehow, the form behind them is completely invisible. The light they emit is only going forward, looking right at you. Your breath seizes in your lungs, heart thump, thump, thumping in your chest.

“Tripping and falling is one thing. Tripping and falling into a completely different dimension is another thing entirely.” It’s a smooth, masculine voice that rings all around you, encompasses your entire body. There’s an amused lilt to it, and if you weren’t scared out of your mind, you’d probably admire the rich sound.

The bottoms of the eyes curl upwards. You can only hope that means it’s smiling.

Despite its lack of pupils, you somehow know it’s looking right at you. Uncomfortable heat swells over your skin and pulses inside of you, making your fingers twitch.

“This is just a dream,” You take in a deep breath, trying to calm the manic pounding of your heart.

“I hate to break it to you, but it’s not. We’re real and we’re one-hundred percent right here,” It continues and its voice dips into a sneer. The fear in you is starting to settle, given how it doesn’t seem like it’s going to attack you.

“Whatever you say.” You huff, your agitation twitching, leagues above the dull fear that’d previously seized you.

The temperature of the room begins to dip, and a humid quality slowly infiltrates the air. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t mention it. Dreams are weird. The subconscious is completely possible to understand and you’re not going to try it anytime soon.

“Hey, so, what are you?” Might as well amuse yourself while you wait to wake up. You cross your arms and your posture stiffens, attempting to look assertive. You sincerely doubt that whatever is on the other side of the room respects you or is capable of being scared of you, but it’s worth a try.

“What am I?” It echoes, “Well, that’d take a lot of explaining, and believe me, it’d be boring to listen to and talk about, so—”

Suddenly, the darkness begins to ebb away to the far corners and reaches of the room like a cloud being sucked up by a vacuum cleaner. You squint against the sudden change in light—fortunately, it’s still dim, but what you do see elegant, polished wooden floors that stretch far in front of you. Shelves that reach near to the ceiling stand on either side of you, stacked with pretty, leather-bound books. They’re not just next to you, but across the room, on all sides, arranged in a square around an open area—an open area which houses a large, circular bed.

Its covered in lavish, iridescent blankets and the matching pillows look soft beyond your wildest dreams. The entire room, instead of being clouded by darkness, seems to be filled with light fog. It leaves you astonished and hot and somehow hazy, creeping arousal rolling up your spine.

It’s a hot, flushed feeling that bewilders and frightens you all at once, but dreams are known for being spontaneous, right? It can all be explained.

You take a step forward, cautiously surveying the area. There’s no evidence of the creature that’d spoken to you only moments ago. Maybe the subject of the dream shifted? That’s happened to you before?

The sound of footsteps behind one of the shelves forces your adrenaline to surge. Your wide, frantic eyes look in the direction of the noise, and you’re unprepared for the figure that emerges from behind one of the shelves.

Purple is the first thing you register. Deep, purple skin. It’s a tiefling.

Two sets of horns curl out from dark, curly waves of hair. The dim, red lighting from lanterns hung from the ceiling give the locks a vibrant sheen. His eyes are deep and red but what really attracts your focus next is the smattering of tattoos along his arm, bare shoulder and torso, that winds up his cheek. The colors are deep and vivid and you’re both surprised and impressed at your own imagination.

“Sorry for the scare,” He apologies. His grin widens the closer he gets, revealing two sharp fangs that stretch from the top lip. “But to be fair, there was no good way of introducing myself in that situation.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow and fix him with an unimpressed expression, absolutely not convinced.

He stops to stand in front of you. Now that he’s completely up close, you can make out the finer details of his tattoo. There’s a snake on his hand, designed so its mouth opens and closes when he moves his thumb and index fingers. There are scars all over his body, faint but still there. Two, small nipple rings catch the overhead light and gleam, held on (admittedly impressive) pectorals.

“Alright, I’m lying. But the look on your face was well worth it,” He tips his head and his smile becomes crooked, smug. “That’s all in the past, though,” He dismissively waves his hand. “My name’s Mollymauk. Molly to my friends.”

“Okay, Mollymauk.” Maybe it’s bitchy of you to emphasize that you’re not friends straight off the bat, but that’s what he gets for scaring the shit out of you! You cross your arms and cock your hip out. making sure that every inch of you oozes challenge.

“Well, I think you should at least tell me your name, seeing how I was polite enough to give you mine.” He mimics your posture, resting a hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow at you. The ridiculousness of the situation almost makes you give up, but the stubborn part of you stays firm, refuses to buckle no matter how minor the act of giving him your name is.

“I don’t see why that matters. I’ll probably wake up in a minute.” You’re actually not looking forward to that.

“You really have a bad memory, don’tcha?” The corners of his lips press into a flat line and you feel mild satisfaction at managing to wipe the grin off his face. “This isn’t a dream.”

“That sounds a lot like something a dream would say.” You retort and tilt your chin up, haughty and arrogant.

“Bless your little heart,” He takes a wide step forward, into your personal bubble and you freeze. He looms over you, suddenly so close that you can make out every single eyelash, every stroke of the tattoo that crawls up on his right cheek. He’s admittedly handsome, but the sudden pulse of arousal that strikes your lower stomach makes you shift uncomfortably. “You’re real stubborn, but I can prove that this isn’t a dream.”

One of his hands reaches forward and presses onto your hip. You can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. The atmosphere between the two of you has been turned on its head, leaving you flailing and unsure how to react. Your voice stalls in your throat, tongue fumbling as you try to materialize some witty retort, something smart to say that’ll smack that stupid smile off his face.

But his face moves closer, and his hooded, red eyes draw you in, keep you quiet.

It’s bizarre—unreasonable—heat presses up your body with unbidden suddenness and your skin gets hotter where he grips it.

“Uh-huh.” You say, trying to find as forceful as possible to make up for the pure lack of wit. Something about him muddles your thoughts and god, he’s so close, but you don’t want him to move away. As miffed as you are, you’re also curious about this imaginary figure that your mind has conjured up. “I don’t think you can.”

Contrary to what you were expecting, his gaze softens and his eyelids dip low. His other hand reaches up and cups your cheek, so direct that you almost don’t notice the press of his hips against yours as he shuffles closer. Something hard rubs against your crotch and oh.

You’ve had lewd dreams before, but never one as intricate as this. It has a whole plot line and everything.

Just a dream, though. So anything that happens here should be fine.

A little voice in the back of your head asks, “what if it’s not?” but it is. It is because you don’t have the energy to believe it’s real.

“I can fix that.” He coos, and the honey of his voice makes another wave of heat ripple through your body. The mist seems to thicken and coagulate tight to your skin. Your clothes start to stick and the need to get out of them is sudden, but overwhelming. “Do you want that?” His voice, a slow and rich drawl, beckons and calls. Your pride swells, tells you to hold your ground, but his sculpted body is pressing against you entirely and his clothed cock rests wantonly against your cunt and god, it’s so hot. Why is it so goddamn hot?

You nod before you can think and he leans in, presses your lips together with no preamble. The kiss is soft and you tilt your head into it. The hand on your hip reaches for the buttons of your shirt and undoes them with deft, practiced fingers. The more clothing that comes off, the cooler you feel. His tongue brushes against your lips an you open them, letting him slide into your mouth. Your hand reaches for his broad shoulders. Warmth pulses under his heated skin.

Desperation takes hold as he pulls away, grabbing your sleeves to yank your shirt off. In the split second he’s not pressed against you, you notice the vibrant glow of his eyes and his grin, wild, carnal, ravenous—

And then he’s on you again, hips shoving tight against yours, forcing you backwards. You stumble and struggle to stay on your feet until your knees hit the back of the mattress.

The library rushes around you as you topple onto the bed. The silky sheets are cool against your back and your gaze draws up to the lanterns that hang from the ceiling. Mollymauk’s hands slam on the mattress on either side of your head, effectively caging you in and monopolizing your attention, holding it captive.

You focus on the splash of vibrant green against his lavender skin until he gives you a chaste kiss, before trailing a path of them along your jawline, dipping down to your neck. You give a soft keen, tilting your head to the side. Goosebumps spread over your heated skin at the low noise of approval he makes, pleased at having more skin to cover in attention. His tongue scorches over you and wow, it’s forked.

The realization jolts you, leaving you momentarily distracted and able to be surprised when he nips at the crook of your neck. You squeak and he apparently he likes the sound, because he repeats the motion and soon the amorous affection becomes rougher, more impassioned.

The cool sheets are a striking juxtaposition against the sear of his body, and your hands eventually find his shoulders, caught up in the picturesque stretch of colors that make up his being.

“Lovely.” He praises, voice a balmy whisper. He raises a hand and light catches off his ring finger and pinkie, nails both akin to sharp talons while his pointer and middle are perfectly manicured.

There’s the tearing or fabric. The middle of your bra snaps, jolting you from your stuptor. The garment is haphazardly tugged off your body before you get the chance to scold him, and you suddenly realize how exposed you really are.

His hands run down your sides to perch on your hips, slow and tender, like he’s really taking time to savor you. The right comes back to cup your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple, teasing the nub to full hardness. His eyelids droop as his face looms over your other breast, lavishing the soft skin with kisses. They’re the short, teasing kind that make your insides feel all hot and hooey, the kind that make you arch your back for more, more, more, the slightly wet kind that chill your skin and make you squirm.

“Mollymauk, stop teasing!” The ache between your thighs swells and you rub them together.

“It’s cute that you think you’re in charge here.” He punctuates his statement with a harsh squeeze to your breast, earning a gasp. His palm brushes tight against your nipple. “You should at least say ‘please’ when you ask for something.

His dexterous tongue curls around your untouched nipple and makes you wiggle against the covers, swathes of sticky warmth making your cunt wet, before he finally slides down the bed. His lithe body wiggles to rest in between your knees, and the visual makes your cheeks hotter. He grabs your thighs and tugs you down the bed with surprising ease. The suddenness of the motion jolts your inebriated system, but the unexpected strength behind it sends another pulse of warmth to your core.

“Mollymauk,” You breathe as his thumbs hook under the waistband of your shorts and panties, bringing them down in a single, swift movement. For as inconsiderate as he was with your bra, he has the decency to set your bottoms aside. You instinctively close your legs but he snaps his grip to them, pulling them apart, pushing passed the soft cotton of your sheepishness like a wolf’s teeth through the hide of a lamb.

The gentle press of his inner thigh makes the muscle twitch. You can’t see his pupils but can somehow feel the heat of his gaze. It pins you in place, keeps you pliant as he trails kisses towards your cunt. Arousal thuds in your body and sloshes in your veins, makes your fingers curl into the sheets.

His teeth catch on your skin and you jolt with a gasp. A velvety chuckle rumbles against your thigh as he continues to trail up, up, up. Trepidation trembles deep in your chest and promptly vanishes at the drag of his tongue over your slicked folds. A squeal flies from your lips and he responds with an eager moan.

Your hips instinctively roll off the bed, into his mouth, desperate for more.

“Stay still, alright?” His arms wind around your thighs and squeeze as if to remind you who’s in charge. “I can’t work my magic if you’re wiggling all over the place.” His lips pill away from your cunt and you whine at the chill that settles in his absence. Impatient, wet kisses spider up your other thigh and his tongue again rasps a single stripe up your slit. Your hips roll again and the muscles in his arms flex briefly as he holds you in place, not lifting his face away for even a moment.

Delight sears up your spine as one of his fingers dips against your entrance. God, please, please—your need boils deep and smothers you. The slender digit teases you for what feels like years, time stretching until he slides one finger inside. It’s impossible to stop your thighs from trying to clamp back together, but he holds you open still.

Knowing he can keep you pinned to the bed as long as he likes terrifies and exhilarated you at the same time.

The broad of his tongue swipes at your bundle of nerves, the forked tips delving deep and making you squirm with each steady thrust of his finger. One of your hands flies down to grip hid horn and he snarls, the vibration making you shake.

Another finger slips in alongside the first. You jolt—it’s covered in something slippery and wet, but the realization melts like flimsy sea foam as he moans again.

The stretch of your walls doesn’t feel like much of a stretch, but the slow pace is agonizing. You suppose you should have expected this, especially after the haughty way he’d presented himself. Such a lascivious creature probably couldn’t resist the temptation to tease and torture you. You want to tell him to go faster, harder, but you’re inevitably enraptured by the flutter of his eyelashes and the sheen of his sweaty bangs pressed against his forehead. His expression is set into something fascinated and so thoroughly concentrated that it makes you feel like a specimen under a microscope, like an insect under the heel of a god,

He keeps the fingering slow as you start to whine, thighs tensing, legs trying to wrap around his head. The sweet mist swells around you and sticks to your skin, another sensation to add to the pile.

“Mollymauk!” You hug his horn again, try to wrench him away, but he stayed affixed to you, fingers tilting at a new angle that makes your shoulders slam back against the mattress, pleasure dancing up your spine and jumbling the words off your tongue.

And then you cum against his face, voice pitching into something pathetic and akin to a sob, a loud noise that sounds alien to even yourself. He groans in unison, tongue continuing to lave over your cunt until your thighs go limp. Finally, he lets them collapse onto the mattress. Your body feels like fucking jello.

Your sweat-slicked chest heaves up and down. Your unfocused gaze jostles down to him as he gets back to his feet, lean abdomen sleek with sweat or moisture from the air. The smirk he levels you with brings you back to your initial meeting.

“Good?” The bed creaks under his weight, knee dipping onto the covers. He drops onto his side next to you, elbow pressing against one of the many puffed pillows, cheek idly resting against his hand. His other hand reaches over and combs through your hair and fuck it, this feels so fucking nice. Your eyes shut and your head lolls against the pillow. “Mhm.” You’re too tired to pretend it wasn’t absolutely phenomenal, not when you feel so nice and sated. It’;s been ages since you’ve had such a great dream, but your consciousness begins to yawn and lull.

“Go to sleep.” His voice purrs in your ear. “We can play again, later.” Sure we can, you think sarcastically. As though your brain will ever let you have something this nice ever again. It’s going to suck to wake up. The memory of your plummet into the mirror almost makes you stir, but the afterglow sedates your mind and body, sending you into inky, black unconsciousness.

---

You don’t know how long you sleep, but when you wake up, you first notice the gross taste of sleep in your mouth and a plush bed against your back. Your eyes open and a vaguely familiar ceiling greets you, the lighting dim and purple—but wait—

You shoot into an upright position, urgently blinking the sleep from your eyes. Alarm shoots through you as you behold the same library from your dream.

No, no, no! Numb horror assaults you as you roll out of the warm bed. The ground is cool against the bottoms of your feet.

This is still a dream. It has to be—shit, shit, shit, it’s not. It’s really not, huh? But where are you? Were you kidnapped by that purple bastard?

Your frantic gaze snaps at the sound of heels clicking against the polished wood and air constricts in your lungs as he rounds the corner. He blinks briefly, looking surprised at the sight of you, before he gives you a grin, warmer than it is smug.

“I told you it wasn’t a dream.”

[lils-writes]

À Quoi Ça Sert L’Amour

Here are the first two chapters of my fic entitled “À Quoi Ça Sert L’Amour”. 

Summery: Disowned by age 19, Adrien has no one to turn to. All his friends are far from Paris and he has no way to get to them. Well, all but one baker girl he befriended when he was 14.

You can find it on AO3 as well!

The streets of Paris never seemed this dull in all of Adrien’s life. But now, with a small suitcase in one hand and a small piece of paper in the other, the city of lights shined no more and everything felt out of place. Or maybe it was just him who was out of place. But what was his place? Where did he belong?

Adrien Agreste was the heir to the Agreste fashion empire. He was, in the past. Now, he as just Adrien. Adrien nobody. His father decided that he had enough of his son, showed him the door and handed him a check, just enough for the boy to survive for some time. What was he supposed to do now? The press would quickly be on his trail, once the news was out. He couldn't live his life on the run.

Soon enough, the blond dug through his bag, pulling out his phone. Out of habit, he composed Nino’s number, only half expecting the touring DJ to answer. Nino had just always been a source of comfort for Adrien. His best friend always knew how to cheer him up. Luckily enough for him, an energetic voice shot through the speaker, making Adrien smile a lit.

“Hey dude! What's up? Why you callin' so late?”

“It’s 8 in the morning. How is that late?”

“3 am, dude! Remember, I'm in America with Alya? Time zones, pal.”

“Oh.” It was all Adrien managed to get out. The words caught in his throat, turning his stomach over. “Sorry, I'll call back another time, then.” Adrien almost hung up, had it not been for Nino's shouts.

“Wait! What happened? Another fight with the old man?”

“He kicked me out for good this time.” Adrien’s voice was barely over a whisper, a shameful whisper. It hurt more than he thought it would. It had been 5 years since the passing of his mother, 5 years since his father became increasingly cold towards him. Nathalie used to say that it was because he resembled his mother too much for Gabriel to handle, but this grief of his had gone too far. The father-son bond was ruined to the point of no return. It had gone from a little distance to being completely disowned.

“You can stay in my apartment if you want? I’ll call my landlord, tell her to give you a key to my place if ever you want.” Nino's voice sounded desperate, desperate to help his best friend. Adrien smiled on the other side of the line.

“Thanks Nino, I’ll think about it. I should let you rest, it’s late where you are. Sleep well.”

Adrien stared at the red phone icon on his phone as the call ended. At least he had a place to stay for a few weeks. Nino wasn't his best friend for nothing. They always had each other’s back, no matter how far apart they were. Adrien was grateful for the other boy’s generosity. He'd have to find a way to repay this generosity. Maybe he'd do something to the apartment, or get Nino some kind of equipment he needed. Then again, Adrien no longer had the money to do that. Money had always helped him repay these kinds of debts. Now, Adrien had to be more creative with his ways.

Somehow, unconsciously, Adrien hit Chloe’s contact and held the phone to his ear. He was lost. He needed a friend. He needed someone, badly. Insecurities had started flowing back in, blanking him. His life was upside down and he didn't know how to deal with this.

“Bonjour, Adri-chou! How are you today?” The pitchy voice of his first friend made him smile. It was comforting to hear Chloe so happy.

“Nothing much. I just wanted to know if I could see you today.”

“I'm sorry, Adrikins. I'm out of the country for a little while. My mom booked me flight to all the hottest places to be. Red carpets, photo-shoots, everything I've ever wanted. It really boosts my career as a fashion critic.” Chloe actually sounded apologetic for once.

“Oh, alright. In that case, I hope you have fun and that we’ll get to hang out once you're back in Paris. I have to go now. Talk to you soon, Chlo.”

“Ttyl, Adrikins!”

Chloe blew him a kiss before hanging up. Chloe had really changed, these past few years, but she still remained Chloe. She was still bubbly and affectionate, but she had grown into a better person. She was nicer with everyone, putting all that bad attitude of teen Chloe behind her. Age made her realize that kindness would get you farther than bitchiness would. The thoughts temporarily made Adrien happy, pushing the bad thoughts of Gabriel to the back of his mind. It helped him make his way to Nino’s apartment. Adrien needed a place to crash down in to think.

On his way, Adrien crossed a bakery. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in hours. The smell of fresh pastries pulled him in. He had always been a sucker for anything sweet, even if Nathalie always forbade him from having any. Being a model meant he had a strict calorie counted diet, and Nathalie judged sweets to be an unnecessary waste of those precious calories. Slowly, he walked in, a little bell announcing his arrival.

“Welcome to the Dupain-Cheng bakery! How may I- Adrien? Good morning, Adrien!”

The girl behind the cash grinned at him as she grabbed a croissant from the display case. She was still talking, but Adrien didn't catch a word she said. When was the last time they had spoken? How many years had it been? She still remembered him, gleefully greeting him, as if it had been just a few days. She had always been a cheerful person, always there for everyone. Marinette really was a wonderful girl.

“Here, it seems like you’ve had a rough night.” She handed him a fresh croissant, smiling at him. “On the house.”

Adrien held up few euros, trying to convince her to accept them. He had enough money to buy a croissant. But Marinette was stubborn. Something about treating her friends. Adrien gave in, taking the croissant with a wide smile and sitting near the counter, close enough to still be able to talk to his old classmate. He liked her voice. It was comforting.

Surprisingly, conversation flowed naturally. It wasn't anything like the conversations Adrien had with Chloe or Nino, but it was also very different from the memories of conversations the two had had in their school days. Marinette seemed a lot more confident, stuttering a lot less. She was smiling more, seeming more like who Marinette must have really been. She was hardworking, but also seemed laid back. Her work looked effortless and with an extreme precision, clashing the image of the clumsy girl Adrien had always had. Maybe Chloe had been exaggerating, calling her Klutzy Mari all those years. It was nice to see Marinette at peace, happy, herself. But all that’s good must eventually come to an end.

“So, how’s your father?”

Adrien’s shoulders tensed at the mention of his father. Of course, Marinette hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, since she didn't know the whole ordeal with Gabriel. No one knew except Nino, afterall. Adrien took another bite of the croissant before answering.

“He’s doing fine. Business is booming, his name is spreading even more around the world. He’s getting models from everywhere. They’re practically begging to work for him. Well, until they know how it feels to work for Gabriel.”

Adrien couldn't resist slipping in the little comment. He sunk his teeth in the flaky croissant one again, frowning. Marinette looked dazed, almost as if she was daydreaming. As long as she wasn't dreaming of the wonder that was Gabriel, Adrien would be fine, but since he didn't possess any mindreading skilled, he wasn't completely sure as to what she was thinking out. Then again, she did have a slight admiration for Gabriel. This is something Adrien had always known, ever since he met the young girl. Marinette had always been a creative mind, creating things ranging between drawings to clothing to baking. She was amazing at everything she tried! She had always impressed Adrien.

“I wonder what it’s like, being the head of a fashion empire. You must have an idea, right? I heard from Alya that your father hired you during the summer to prepare you when it came the time to take over the family company.”

“I’d have to be family to run it.”

Adrien clasped his hands over his mouth, his eyes growing three sizes larger. He hadn't meant to let that comment out, but it was too late to take it back in. Marinette shot him a questioning look. Clearly, she was expecting an explanation from Adrien, having stopped her counter cleaning. The boy slumped down into his chair, refusing to meet her eyes. Shame came flowing in.

“He kicked me out this morning. Disowned. Adrien Agreste is dead.”

Marinette’s eyes filled with sadness. She pulled a chair across from Adrien, offering him another treat and coffee, which he refused. Her words of comfort were distant, Adrien’s head buzzing with the shame of losing his name and of venting to this girl he had lost all forms of contact with years ago. She deserved better than this pathetic scenario.

“I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have told you that. You probably don't care about my situation, and I don't blame you. Even I'm annoyed with myself.”

Marinette vigorously shook her head, her eyes riveted on Adrien. “Absolutely not! I am by no means annoyed by you! And I most definitely care about what happen to my friends!”

Marinette was still calling Adrien a friend, and it broke his heart a little. This sweetheart of a girl was calling this pathetic excuse of a human her friend. She deserved better than him. She didn't deserve to deal with his family drama. Yet, she wouldn't let him go.

“Do you have a place to stay? Do you have enough money? I can ask my parents to help! We have a spare room, if you need a bit of time to adjust to your new life. And if you want, I can put in a good word for you. My parents are looking for a new baker helper, since I’m about to really be sunken in all my work: commissions, internships, my own personal projects and so on.”

Marinette went on and on about the multiple ways she could help him, and Adrien couldn't help but stare at her in disbelief. Well, disbelief that she was so willing to help him and shame that he needed the help of someone who had no reason to help other than pity. Obviously, Marinette was pitying him. She found him as pathetic as he knew he was. Why else would she want to help him?

Yet, there was something that threw Adrien off. Maybe it was the way she was playing nervously with her clothe she had been wiping the counters with, maybe it was the way her voice occasionally became more pitchy, especially when she said Adrien’s name, but there was something that was telling him that she didn't pity him. There was a little voice inside of Adrien that was telling him Marinette was helping him because she wanted to, because she was a generous beautiful soul that just wanted to be there to make the world a better place.

“Thank you, Marinette. I have a place to stay in, hopefully. Nino is supposed to call his landlord and let me stay there, but I don't know if he’ll do that today, since he’s in the USA.” Adrien forced a smile as Marinette nodded. “I think I can survive, but thank you again. I should get going. I have a big day ahead of me.”

Adrien pushed the chair, getting up. Marinette mimicked his movement, rising to her feet as well. She was smiling brightly at him, wishing him luck on his new adventure. It was crazy to think how this girl, an old classmate of Adrien’s, was more encouraging than his own father ever was. It was crazy to think that all it took for Adrien to realize how little support he had gotten growing up was to be disowned.

Adrien waved at Marinette, shooting her a “have a good day”, before making his way towards the door. But as the little bell chimed with the opening of the door, Adrien felt fingers wrap around his wrist. How did Marinette get so close to him so quickly? She was at the counter when he turned around!

“Before you go,” Marinette huffed, still grinning, “take this. It’s not much, but I’d like for us to stay in contact.”

Adrien stared at the piece of paper Marinette had handed him. 10 numbers were clearly written, Marinette’s name beautifully written right under. Adrien glanced back at Marinette, smiling back.

Marinette flushed pink, hurriedly letting go of the blond. “It’s if you’re interested in the job! Well, it’s actually my cell number, but if you want the job, you can call me and I can arrange something, if you want of course, because that’s up to you!”

“Thanks Marinette. I’ll think about it.”

Adrien chuckled a little before walking out of the bakery, the paper secured between his fingers. It was nice to think that he had a job offer without even trying. He’d call back if he was really desperate, not wanting to take advantage of his position as an acquaintance of the owners’ daughter. It would be unfair to the other applicants, who probably had more experience than he did.

“You can call me if you want to talk to a friend too, if you want!”

Adrien turned back to the sound of the voice. Marinette was leaning against the doorframe, her hands around her mouth to make her voice louder. She was still grinning, waving frantically at Adrien. Suddenly, Adrien saw the huge change between the old and the new Marinette. He liked the old Marinette, but he was starting to really like the new Marinette. He was liking the idea of having a friend nearby.

Adrien waved back, clenching the paper tighter, afraid to lose it to the wind. It was his new treasure. Nothing meant more to him than this paper did now.

[nailriddenbat]

Mayfield | Series - Pt. IV

Summary: Max Mayfield and Billy Hargrove aren’t the only new kids to step foot into Hawkins. Meet Y/N Mayfield, Max’s big sister, who’s here to make sure no one messes with her sister.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Mayfield!Reader (SLOW BURN)

Characters: Y/N Mayfield, Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Max Mayfield

Warnings: Language, bit of violence, and a panic attack.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: TAGS HAVE BEEN MOVED TO THE END OF THE POST!

A/N: This chapter gets a little heavy as it’s getting a little deeper into what sort of emotional baggage Y/N is carrying. Don’t worry. The relationship will pick up soon, I promise! 

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X (FINALE) 

“Give me the keys.”

“I’m fine, babe.”

“You’re not okay. I can drive you home.”

“I can drive!”

“Please do not get in that car.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do not get in that fucking car!”

You heard a crash echo and you jumped, turning your head sharply just to see that it had been two football jockeys messing around. You exhaled and dropped your head, your hand resting over your heart as you could feel it race.

You had barely gotten any sleep the night and couldn’t pay any attention in any of your classes. You just moved from one place to another, trying hard to make it through. Your mom had set you up with some bullshit interview for a part time job at the local grocery store to help you “build up a resume so colleges could see that you are a hard working individual” but you knew it was to make sure you wouldn’t lock yourself up in the house. She had even driven you to school this morning, since the store was close to the school, insisting that she would pick you up after the interview was done. It was also arranged that she would pick Max up from school, so you felt comfortable in saying yes.

You closed your locker after grabbing your jacket and slid your sunglasses on. You kept your head down as you tried to make your way to the exit.

When you stepped outside you started to head for the parking lot but you stopped when you heard your name being called out.

“Hey Mayfield!”

You turned your head and looked back towards the school. Blazer Boy was jogging over to you and you stopped walking, having no idea what he could possibly want.

He gestured to your glasses before he pulled out a pair of his own, the pairs identical.

“You ran all the way over here to tell me we have matching sunglasses?” you questioned him as your eyebrow arched. 

He stuttered a bit, “No, yeah, I just... I mean, I,” he stopped to clear his throat and put his sunglasses away. “I wanted to say hi.”

“Why?” you were abrupt, but you had no tolerance for anything or anyone.

“Jeez,” he chuckled a bit, scratching his head nervously. 

Before he could say anything else you sighed and pushed your glasses up on your head holding your hair back from your face. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. “When I’m tired, I tend to be more bitchy than usual.”

“No big deal,” he shrugged his shoulders, brushing it off. “You looked way out of it today and I wanted to make sure you were good. I mean, that’s what you did for me the other night so I wanted to return the kind act.”

“Thanks, Blazer Boy,” you said his nickname, not even realizing you had said it so casually.

He laughed out loud, his head tilting back a bit before he looked over at her. “Blazer Boy?”

Your cheeks started to turn pink from embarrassment. “I may or may not remember your actual name.”

He continued to laugh and his face seemed so bright, as if this were the first time he had really laughed in a while. “It’s Steve Harrington,” he grinned. “I remembered your name, Mayfield, the least you could have done was remember mine.”

“Shut up,” you laughed a little with him, feeling like his laugh were contagious.

“Seriously though,” his laughter died down as he looked over at her. “You okay?”

That was such a loaded question. You weren’t okay, but you weren’t about to spill your guts to a complete stranger. “I am as good as I can be. I have trouble sleeping, but that’s it,” you explained and kept it brief.

Steve blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing up slightly, “I’ve been there.”

“You’ve gotta be the most stressed out teenager then,” you teased him a little. “Relationship problems, trouble with sleeping, what else Harrington? Mortgage? Debt?”

“Haha, very funny,” he chuckled. 

“I’m kidding. We all have our troubles. My brother, for example. I saw that he was giving you a hard time in basketball,” you chuckled. 

“Full or half brother?” 

“Stepbrother. My mom married his dad. If I shared any DNA with him, I’d hide myself from the world,” you said with a serious expression.

He pushed his hair back as he started to say he agreed with you, but you caught his watch and caught the time. You were going to be late for the interview.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry but I really have to run.”

You turned your back and walked a few feet but stopped when your eyes caught sight of Max climbing into Billy’s car across the way. She had her head down and you glanced at Billy, watching him as he stared down one of Max’s friends, Lucas, while he walked away.

“Everything okay?” Steve stepped up behind you and followed your gaze. 

You observed Billy as he lit up a cigarette and took a drag, leaving his hand hanging out of the open window. Max looked nervous and uncomfortable and you were wondering what the hell had changed in the plans your Mom arranged to leave Max with this asshole.

“Mayfield?” Steve reached out to touch your arm gently.

Your body heated up with rage as Billy reached across the car and snatched Max’s wrist up, tugging on it violently.

You charged towards the car, moving as fast as you could and as you got closer, you could hear Billy give Max some sort of warning. You reached out and ripped the cigarette from his hand, spinning it around and pressing the burning end against his skin.

“Son of a bitch!” he yanked his hand back and stared up at you with wide eyes that were filling with anger quickly.

You stepped back as he stumbled to get out of the car and you held your ground as he stared you down. The both of you were breathing heavily and you muttered dangerously, “I thought I told you to stay away from her.”

“It was my responsibility to pick her up from school today because your mother bailed,” he glared over at you, his nostrils flaring.

“So you think that gives you the right to put your hand on her?” you asked him.

“I was teaching her a lesson, big brother to little sister,” he hissed the word and you pushed him back into his car violently, the small crowd around you gasping as they watched.

“I dare you to try and do something to me in front of all of these people, Billy,” you taunted him as you looked up at him.

He took a step forward but you were shocked when an arm shot between the two of you. You followed that arm and saw that it was attached to Steve. Billy looked over at him slowly.

“Why don’t you just back off, Hargrove?” Steve spoke calmly.

“Really? You want me to back off?” Billy asked him, his voice filled with sarcasm.

“Yeah. Back off,” Steve repeated himself before he dropped his arm.

As you kept your eyes on Billy to make sure he didn’t make any sudden movements, you called out to your sister, “Max, get out of the car.”

“How the hell do you two expect to get home?” Billy smirked at you, as if he had the upper hand.

You went to respond but Steve cut you off, offering up a ride. “I’ll take care of it. No sweat off your back, Billy.”

This caused Billy to laugh and you stepped away from him to pull Max into your side. 

Billy rubbed at his nose before he opened his car door again. “Hey Y/N?” he called out to you, and the three of you looked over at him. “He’s not as fun as Georgie boy was. I’d consider that before crawling into bed with him.”

Steve jumped to grab him but Billy had slid into his car and you had to reach forward to pull Steve back by his jacket so he wouldn’t get hit.

You turned your head away from Steve and tried to hold the tears back as you looked Max over. She was shaking a little and you picked her wrist up carefully.

“I’m fine,” she tried to pull it away, feeling embarrassed that so many people had stood around and watched. She looked up at you and whispered, “Are you okay?”

You nodded your head quickly and took a deep breath, trying to speak in a steady voice, “Let’s go home.”

“Let me drive you,” Steve turned back around to look at you and you quickly slid your glasses back over your eyes so he couldn’t see them grow red.

“It’s not necessary,” you shook your head, trying to decline the offer.

“C’mon Mayfield, it’s a far walk and it’s gonna get cold out,” he sighed. “My car is right over there.”

“Let’s take the ride,” Max spoke up. “She’s stubborn and won’t take it, so I will, which means she will too. Which one is your car?”

You shook your head and looked away as Steve pointed to the BMW. Max walked forward and you moved to follow, pulling your arm away from Steve’s as he reached out to you.

“I’m not talking about it,” you snapped at him.

He dropped his hand and walked ahead of you so he could unlock the car. Max climbed into the back as you sat in the front, turning your body to the window. The car ride was silent and Max ended up being the one to give him directions. You could have cared less. 

It seemed to take forever to get home and as each minute passed, you could feel the panic rising in your chest. You closed your eyes behind the lenses of your sunglasses. 

“Do not get in that fucking car!”

“George!”

Metal crunching. Horns blaring. Screams. The tires of your car screeching as you come to a stop in the middle of a busy street. 

“Y/N we’re home.”

You inhaled sharply as you were pulled out of the memory just as Max touched your shoulder. You pushed at the door, stumbling out of Steve’s car.

“Shit, are you okay?” he jumped out to help you but you pushed your way up the lawn and to the front door, shouting out to him that you were fine even though you felt as if your chest was on fire. You could barely hear Max talking to Steve as you could only hear the rush of blood in your ears. Your vision was growing blurry as your eyes continued to fill with tears.

You slammed the door shut just in time for you to completely break. You swung your sunglasses in a random direction as you worked to tug your jacket off, struggling to get the sleeves off. You slammed it down to to the floor and kicked it to the side before you dropped to your bed, crying into your hands. No matter what you did, no matter how many days passed, you were still living in that very moment. The pain was suffocating you and your hands shook as you failed to gain control of the situation. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do it.

You could barely register your bedroom door opening but you tried to pick yourself up when you realized Max had come into the room. You wiped at your face quickly and your voice trembled, “Hey why don’t you go get your homework done? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Max ignored you and sat on your bed next to you. She leaned her head against your shoulder and reached forward to touch your hand as she whispered, “You should talk about it, Y/N. I’m young, yeah, but you’re my sister and I want to help.”

You shut your eyes tight as another tear rolled down your face. “Kid, I’m the big sister. I’m supposed to help you,” you tried to laugh a little but it was hopeless.

“We can take turns,” Max squeezed your hand tightly.

“That could work,” you whispered quietly.

Your sister nodded her head in agreement. The two of you sat propped up against the headboard quietly. You were both lost in your own thoughts but held onto each other. You were grateful for the fact that despite all of the shit in your life, you two at least had one another to lean on and to depend on, and that little bit made all the difference in this shitty world.

Tags (PLEASE message me if you want to be added to the permanent tag list for any fic/tag list for this particular series, especially if you already asked and I forgot!): @thegirlwhoisintoomanyfandoms @la-fille-en-aiguilles @jj-writes-shit @thebitterbookeater @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @richletozler  @royalwolfhard @just-smile-darling @w-ingardiumleviosa @buckysmaingirl @magic-and-timetravel  @jupiter-leo @ttrraasshh @somekryptonitewriting @dudee-what  @tmalchow @hedabucky @wallacetdog  @harringtonhuddle @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @kingkenzieo @twelvedacrewoods @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @stevieboyharrington @madhatterweasley @captainelsaeverdeen @cupcaitlyn96 @anton-shudders @trashyemonerd @netflix-and-cuddles @earthvsjai @goimaginethiss @inhumanz @athenalesage @pan-space-cowboy @caitsymichelle13 @juliroseennis @stressedoutkylo @slythxr @way-obsessed5 @gingerfangirlthefeels @marslovesme @sweetheartmendes @spacecowgrrrl @letstacoaboutnutellaa @doomed-vodka @negroneon @lola-winston-harrington @annasbulletjournal @idk-5sos-bye @me-a-hopeless-romantic @sofver @altreble @brightestgrangers @pity-mee @xbrandix17 @marvelgirl2118 @everything-intertwined @mychemicaltessa @bitchin-momjeans @sparkles-of-youthfulness @artisticlales @runningwitches @andyhurleyquinn @kenzie-is-still-here @xguardiangel 

[alexkablob]

Yang vs Raven: How The Turn Tables

OKAY HERE WE GO. Under a Read More because good lord this thing got long.

I just cannot stop laughing at the guys Yang beat up behind her while she walks into the camp. This whole sequence is staged like something out of a Spaghetti Western or a Sengoku Jidai movie, where Yang’s the guy who just showed up in town and Raven and her bandits are literally the villains from Seven Samurai. (At this point I remember that RWBY+the remains of JNPR makes seven people but then I remember that four of the samurai die and decide not to continue this comparison.) And of course, I’m remembering the other two times that Yang walked fearlessly into a den of thieves to demand something from their leader.

So Raven appears, being her default setting of Ridiculously Dramatic, and Yang is Instantly Done with this.

First time actually seeing her birth mother face to face and she’s just. “Mom.”

And then comes the part where I was instantly ready to jump through the screen and kill Raven my damn self.

“So! After all this time, you’ve finally decided to come visit me.“

Raven I just. Seriously. Why are you such a horrible person. The daughter you abandoned at birth in order to become a bandit queen shows up after nineteen years and this is the first thing you have to say to her. YANG LITERALLY GETS HER PTSD TREMOR SET OFF BY THIS BECAUSE SHE CAN’T BELIEVE RAVEN’S NERVE EITHER.

I just can’t get over how clearly Raven’s bit here is like. A Prepared Speech. It’s so theatrical. She’s staging this for the crowd’s benefit as much as for Yang’s. This bit about Yang’s determination like, yeah Raven you’ve got no fucking idea how determined your daughter is, but then OH HEY SUDDENLY SHE GOES EVEN FURTHER.

She tries to do the cute familiar banter thing with Yang. “But did you have to be so rough with my men?” She thinks it’s hilarious that Yang showed up in the area and immediately beat up some of her mooks.

And Yang is having none of it. “I didn’t want a fight. They started it.” She’s like, gee mom, one of them sexually harassed me and then after I literally punched him into the next room for it they tried to rob me, you tell me if i had to be so rough with them.

But also Yang is restraining herself from giving her mom the full bitching-out she deserves because she’s here on a mission, so Raven tries to continue the one-sided banter. “Well, you certainly finished it.”

And Yang is just.

Nope. Nope. I am not giving you the satisfaction of playing this game with you. You have not earned the right to playfully rib me. You know who can do that? Tai. Because he’s actually been her parent and they have a loving relationship where they engage in this sort of banter.

And then there’s just this deliciously awkward silence that Yang lets stretch out until Raven realizes the above and awkwardly switches tracks, continuing with the Theatrical Prepared Speech for when her daughter (inevitably, in Raven’s mind) shows up, assuming that of course Yang is here for her.

But SHE’S NOT HERE FOR YOU. And Raven is instantly pissed as hell. “What was that?!” Yang isn’t following the script that exists in Raven’s mind.

I feel just. SO incredibly vindicated that Yang only went to Raven in order to get help finding Ruby, because that’s exactly what me and @mylordshesacactus thought was going down with this plotline, and it’s perfect. Because yeah, Raven. When Yang was six years old and her actual mother had just died and she found out that she had another mother out there who had left her when she was born, she had fantasies that she’d find her and they’d be a happy family. But now she’s nineteen, she’s been through hell, and she knows that Raven Branwen is a horrible person who only ever gave her a cryptic save from Neo and genes for really great hair. She’s better off without Raven in her life, and she knows it. There’s only one reason she’s here: because Tai told her about Raven’s Family Fast Travel Portal semblance, and she wants to use that to get to Ruby.

I swear “And why would I do THAT” in response to people asking for help is like, Raven’s catchphrase. This asshole actually has the fucking gall to act offended that Yang sees through her bullshit. “Why not take that drive and use it to find your little sister if she really means that much to you.” Ohhh Raven, first of all, that was incredibly bitchy, that was somehow more bitchy than anything you said to Qrow in volume 4, which is saying something because you were a total dick to Qrow. And second of all, I am LIVING at how FUCKING MAD you’re getting here. I’ll be honest, the first time I heard Raven’s voice in v4 I wasn’t entirely sold on it? But her increasing inability to hide her agitation throughout this scene is glorious, they definitely cast her right. 

You know who else is living for Raven’s frustration here?

Honestly I keep cracking up at the way Raven mutters Tai’s name under her breath when Yang reveals he told her about Raven’s semblance, because it’s literally like

Yang: “But dad told me how your semblance works.“ Raven: “Fuck.”

Yeah, Raven, all Yang wants from you is to open one of your creepy portals so she can join up with her actual family, and you’ve got no right to be as pissed about it as you are. Raven almost literally says YOU’VE GOT SOME FUCKING NERVE GIRL, because she really is that much of a hypocrite.

(shoutout to Raven’s ridiculously giant hair)

I’m SUPER interested to find out just what Raven’s problem with Ozpin and Qrow and the whole “stop Salem from causing the literal apocalypse” thing is, but I have to say, in this show that constantly reinforces the theme of standing against the darkness even if your chances are hopeless (my actual favorite narrative theme ever but that’s another conversation), somehow I don’t think Raven’s intended to be right about this.

Which, again, Yang gets, because she’s wonderful. This is the part where Yang starts getting visibly pissed off too, because Raven’s spent this brief conversation making up for missing out on nineteen years of pissing off her daughter. “I don’t care what you think.” Literally just. Oh my god mother shut up already. Yang is 3000% done with Raven’s “come to the dark side” spiel before she even makes it.

(Side note: shout out to the reaction shot of Vernal being pissed at Yang telling Raven to shut up, because if my thoughts on her relationship with Raven are right she’s Raven’s actual adopted daughter and thus, what Yang would have been if Raven had been in her life. The best thing Raven ever did for Yang was leave her with people who weren’t terrible, which is faint praise indeed.)

“Save your breath. You can spout off whatever you want, but nothing is going to keep me from my sister.“

Yang’s relationship with Ruby is everything and I just. Love her so much. She’s just categorically shut the fuck up mom i don’t want to hear it you piece of shit.

Raven, having realized that Yang wants absolutely nothing to do with her, is immensely fucking pissed.

She even puts her hand on her sword hilt like dear god woman. But then in my actual favorite Raven line in this scene she (very unsuccessfully) tries to play it off like she’s amused.

“Well aren’t you stubborn.“

“I get it from my mom.”

Oh yeah Raven, THIS banter game she’s all too willing to play with you. Get fucking WRECKED.

Raven, being a total dick, tells her goons to get Yang out of her sight and starts walking off. Yang is of course not leaving until she gets what she came for (shoulda seen that coming Raven you just noted how stubborn she is).

(I don’t know why but I really love this shot of Raven looking back when Yang doesn’t let her get the last word)

And now Yang is IMMENSELY FUCKING PISSED at Raven’s gall to not do something as simple as send Yang to Ruby via Qrow because her feelings are hurt that Yang can see through her bullshit.

“Did you not hear me? I said send me to Qrow, damn it!“

#LetYangSayFuck

Yang’s so pissed she’s seriously ready to fight this entire goddamn camp which, girl, even you can’t do that.

...okay maybe she could actually do that if not for Actual Demigoddess Vernal Branwen standing just over there.

And then she punches Mook #2 through a tent and oh look. There’s Weiss. (the staging of this legit made me laugh out loud I love it) Oh yeah. Raven was doing her whole Welcome Home Long Lost Daughter speech while she knowingly had Yang’s teammate in a literal cage not fifty yards away. Which is just, what the fuck, Raven. What the fuck. With as much as you stalk Yang there’s no way you didn’t know that Weiss was one of her closest friends. And you literally pulled all this while you had Weiss imprisoned and awaiting ransom. What the fuck is wrong with you.

legit this moment is everything we’ve been joking about for the last two weeks just

Yang: “Hey mom fuck yo--WEISS?!?!”

Weiss: “Alright time to make my esca--YANG?!?!”

I am Living seriously I was so scared this was going to be a near-miss because this show is cruel enough to do that to us

Meanwhile, Weiss. “Okay. Okay. I’m gonna just accept this for the moment. New plan. Tiny Knight Friend, become Big Knight Friend and break us the fuck out of here.”

BACK TO BACK BADASSES oh my god how I have missed any of Team RWBY being together. And then this entire exchange is just, hilarious.

Yang: “What is THAT.”

Oh right, Yang’s never seen Weiss summon anything before, much less Giant Knight Friend.

Weiss: “Don’t worry about it what are you doing here?!”

Yang: “Well, that’s my mom and she can take us to Ruby.”

(Raven’s little exasperated “ugh” here on realizing that oh great she’s losing the Weiss ransom too now is everything)

And then we get ONE OF THE FUNNIEST EXCHANGES IN THE WHOLE DAMN SHOW

“YOUR MOM KIDNAPPED ME?!“

“YOU KIDNAPPED HER?!“

Seriously this scene had ramped up to the point where I had legit forgot that Actual Elemental Demigoddess Vernal Branwen was like, right over there.

(speaking of which, Raven’s quick “thank you” after Vernal stops everyone’s Drama is also everything)

(also everything is that Vernal’s reaction to Raven telling her to give Weiss her weapon back is literally “but mooooooooooooom”)

And look I’m super worried about the fact that Yang and Weiss are about to get the What’s Your Favorite Fairy Tale talk from Raven Branwen but instead of worrying about that for now I’m just going to revel in THE FIRST RWBYUNION

oh my god the last time Weiss saw Yang is when Yang was unconscious and still bleeding from her arm getting cut off oh my god Yang’s so much taller than her she’s not even touching the ground here oh my god i need a minute

this concludes my rambling about my new favorite episode of RWBY

[dunghillxx]

So I was encouraged to “journal” to get some of the stuff that runs through my head out..so I’m going to try and do this but knowing me, I’ll write one post and forget I agreed to commit to it and not write another one for months.. oops. 

Anyways, I’ll make this post about some of the positive things about my job. And save all the negative depressing shit for a different day, different post.

Let me start by saying that I love my job. I never thought I would find a job straight out of school that I absolutely loved. You always imagine that working for a living will suck and you’ll hate it but you’ll do it because it’s what is expected of you and what needs to be done. You never imagine that it’s something you’ll genuinely love...but I was wrong. My job is everything I had hoped for when I went into nursing school. This job provides me with what I had always hoped to gain as a nurse and I’ve only been a nurse for a year and a half. How did I ever get so lucky?

Although I don’t enjoy working NOC because of the hours, I do love other parts of it. I think I get more face time with my residents working NOC because I have less treatments and “nursing” things to do so I get more time to sit with a resident and chit chat. I would miss that if I worked days because you’re so busy all day long. My little talks with my residents is my favorite part. There’s two residents in particular right now that have imprinted themselves on my little heart and they are the two I want to talk about right now. Although all my residents have impacted me and they all hold a special place in my heart, these two are sticking out to me lately so I want to talk about them to start.

We’ll start with my little lady, M. I took care of her as a CNA. I took care of her husband as a nursing student. I’ve known her for a long time. We’ve grown pretty close since I’ve taken the NOC position on the unit I work on. She is the last resident’s room I go into at night so I would always sit and talk with her for 15-20 minutes and we’d just talk about what was going on and just different little things. I really look forward to these little chats. She’s with it enough to hold a conversation and remember it weeks down the line so it’s easy to talk with her. She always asks about my boyfriend and my family, like she genuinely gives a shit. It’s just nice to talk with someone who is very reminiscent of my grandmother. She’s had a lot of medical issues back to back recently and it’s really been bringing her spirit down. She was coming out of her room less, doing things she enjoyed less, basically beginning to give up because well she was sick and tired and sick and tired of feeling that way. So Rene and I took her out to lunch for her birthday to cheer her up. Man, did she love it. She talked about it for days. She was instantly saying how she can’t wait to do it again and was trying to think of a good place to go for next time. A restaurant she hadn’t tried yet that she had always wanted to. She was happy. And it made me happy to know that we were able to do that for her. But then she got sick, again. And she’s just gotten sicker since then. She’s been in the hospital for several weeks now. I’ve visited her multiple times, but she’s sick and tired (like usual) and she just sleeps when I’m there. She had to have a huge surgery done that I always had a feeling would be the end to her because it was a huge change medically, physically, and emotionally and I just thought it would all be too much for her to handle. And, right now...I’m seeming to be right. She was supposed to be discharged back to our facility over the weekend but since then has gone septic and is now in very rough condition. Who knows if she’ll even get to come home to us or if she’ll pass in the hospital. It’s really hard to tell at this point. I’m hoping she’ll get to come back so she can be with us, her only family, when she goes. But I guess only time will tell. It breaks my heart to know she isn’t doing well and may or may not get better. But I try to remember that day we took her out and how we impacted her so much just by doing something so simple.. but man, does it suck knowing she may not be around to chit chat with sometime soon... :/ I pray things turn around for her because I don’t think any one of our residents deserves to die alone in a hospital..

Then there’s my little man, L. He is very reserved and closed off. Doesn’t really let anyone know what’s going on in his head. He has a lot of medical issues as well and was given some not so lovely news recently, but he never really showed how he was processing it all, because he doesn’t really talk much to anyone. And he’s very stubborn and independent and kind of a grumpy old man sometimes, so I feel like he kind of turned off anyone from TRYING to figure him out. But me being me, took it as a challenge. I know he hates being bothered by us nurses. But I figured, me being a NOC nurse who has to do less “nursing” things to do than the day nurses, and between the choices of NOC nurses, I’d be the one most likely to crack him and get him to open up. So, let the journey begin. I’ve been trying for months to gain his trust and get him to open up to me. I’ve done nice things after nice things, I’ve gone out of my way to do things for him. I’ve done way more than I’ve needed to as a nurse for him. I’ve ALWAYS done what I said I was going to do and done it WHEN I said I would do it so that he could see me as someone reliable. I’ve always been joking and playful with him so he wouldn’t view me as some bitchy nurse who just wants to bother him with something. I’ve researched his chart and his medical background to get a better idea of what’s going on with him and what he’s been through. When he got his unfortunate news, I researched for at least 2 hours on things he could do to improve his situation. I got PT to start working with him again (although he doesn’t know I did any of this, I could tell that it was all turning his bad mood around and he was smiling more and joking around with staff more). So I felt accomplished. He has surgeries and procedures done quite often, I would leave him little love notes wishing him good luck and leave them on his night stand when I went home for the day so he would see them when he woke up. I mean, I’ve been working at him for a few months now. And although I wasn’t really seeing any progress until lately, I did notice that although he still rolls his eyes when I bring needles around and that, he never VERBALLY gave me shit like he did with other nurses and I got smiles far more often than anyone else. So it was the tiny accomplishments that I took in stride. 

Anyways, my past two nights on were milestones for the relationship I was trying to build between us. He had recently had a surgery done and he was having a lot of pain and circulation issues in his arm/hand. So I spent over an hour in his room trying to regain circulation in his arm so that I wouldn’t have to send him to the hospital (because he would rather die than go to the hospital). And he was so sweet and patient with me. He let me do what I needed to do. He didn’t give me shit for bugging him. He was open minded to all my suggestions. He was great. And I got him feeling better and the next day he was STILL sweet with me and thankful and told the day nurse that I was so sweet and nice to him and stuff which I felt great about. And then...THEN!!! He had bumped his arm and aggravated his stitches so he needed his dressing changed, so I was in his room changing the dressing and when we were done, instead of just leaving and going back to whatever he was doing, he literally just starting spewing off all kinds of stories from when he was younger. He told me all the jobs he did while he was in the Navy. He told me all about his life when he was younger and how he used to be a little shit and con people and just he went on and on for an entire hour! I’ve never heard him talk so much. And he was LAUGHING and SMILING and so happy to talk to me about it and reminisce. and OMG MY HEART. I couldn’t believe that my months of hard work were FINALLY paying off. He has NEVER told anyone on our unit about what he did for a living or what he did in the Navy. He never talked about his life before to anyone. He always keeps to himself and doesn���t talk about anything. My heart was so full knowing I finally broke down some walls with him. I ended up having to go into work on my day off and instead of just strolling past me while I was at the desk, he stopped and smiled and talked to me and watched me play with the cat at work and we were laughing together at how she was playing. I mean, I’ve never felt so accomplished at work and I can’t wait to see how this relationship progresses. I really hope I end up being someone he can genuinely trust with stuff and talk with. I hope this wasn’t an isolated incident and that our relationship can continue to grow. Although I am competing with my NOC CNA, I think I’ve broken more ground than her so I’ll just keep our interactions private now so that she can’t one up me haha.

These positive things are what I need to focus on with my job in order to stay sane but sometimes all I can think about is the negative. So I’m hoping writing it all out, the good, bad and ugly, will make me feel better. So my next post probably won’t be so much full of happy memories but more of the realistic side of my job because those things eat at me as well... Anyways, until next time!

[supervictoriagarcialove-blog]

03/15/12

Another thing that annoys me here: gas station and parking lot attendants. You cannot pump your own gas. The attendant does it, and you are expected to tip them. Also, parking lot attendants follow you from the door of the store to your car and unload your stuff for you. They will also direct traffic while you back out of your parking spot. This is stupid. I don't need any help unloading my stuff, and I don't need help backing out of a parking spot. You are also expected to tip them. Baggers at the store are to be tipped as well. I guess in a way this is good, it provides jobs. But it's bad because people don't have a lot of money to tip the 5 people they come in contact with when they go to get gas and to the store.

 Gabriel's family is extremely nice to me. They are also extremely pushy. I don't have kids because I don't want the responsibility, and I like my alone time. I don't have any alone time here. Someone is always popping in the house for one reason or another. His nieces and nephews come by multiple times a day. His 3 year old niece, Maryse, came by this morning. I tried to ignore her without being mean. She left, and came back 10 minutes later. She doesn't really say anything to me other than “Tia” and “Chihuahua”. His other niece, Jessica, came by to ask me if I was going to eat. I told her no. His mom came by today to give me flowers (she does this about twice a week). She also came by again later to ask me if I was going to eat. This was around 11am. I had missed breakfast at 8am because I usually sleep until around 9. Which is fine with me, I can wait until lunchtime to eat. I'm not going to have her cook for me again just because I was too lazy to get up. I feel extremely uncomfortable with this. I prefer to wait until lunchtime so I can eat with everyone else. But she does not accept this. I told her no thank you, I'm going to wait until lunchtime and eat with everyone else, and I'm not really hungry right now. She asked me again. I told her the same thing. She asked me again. I told her the same thing. She asked me again. I told her the same thing. She asked me again. I told her the same thing. I am not joking, we literally went back and forth 5 times over this. She left, and I thought I was off the hook. Then Gabriel

's dad came by and asked me if I was going to eat, I told him the same thing I told his mom. He asked me again. I told him the same thing. I only had to go through this twice with him. He left, and again, I thought I was off the hook.

 He comes back about 10 minutes later with a plate of food. I said thank you. He left, and I sat down at my table to eat. He comes back immediately and tells me to go eat with Gabriel's mom and his sister-in-law.

 When I finally give into the harassment, and I begin eating, his mom continues to harass me. I will finish one of my tacos, and before I have the chance to make myself another one, she crows “COME!” which is an instruction to eat. I don't say anything, and I continue to make myself my taco, and she continues to tell me “COME! COME!”

 I realize that it's extremely bitchy of me to complain like this. I know they are just trying to be nice, and this is just how they are. However, when I tell someone that I do not want to eat, I don't want to be harassed and have my wishes completely ignored, then told that I need to eat somewhere else when I am brought food that I declined 10 times already. I sometimes have guests at my house, and I will offer them food/beverages. If they decline, I DROP IT. I don't ask them 10 freaking times the same question they have already declined. When I am finally eating, don't stand over me and tell me to eat WHEN I'M ALREADY DOING IT!

 I think I am also bitchy right now since Gabriel and I are fighting. I don't have a lot of problems with him. He doesn't hit me, he doesn't cheat on me, he doesn't call me names. But he is not nice. The other day, he told me how he wants to take $300.00 and buy a whole bunch of vegetables to sell at a higher price, so we can make some money. Of course I had some questions about this. I asked if we should make a smaller investment than $300.00 to test the idea first. I asked this because we don't have a lot of money right now. I asked it in a completely normal tone of voice, it was an innocent question. Well, he didn't like it. He told me to forget it, we don't do it. He was annoyed, he shut down like he normally does when I disgust him or I say something he doesn't like. This really pisses me off, because I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't said anything offensive. It's not like I said “I think that's a stupid idea and we are going to lose money!” So, for past 3 days, I have been silent. Why should I talk if I'm just going to piss him off? I have no idea what's going to upset him. So, it's better if I just shut up. Save me some arguments, right?

 The bad thing about Gabriel is, nothing works with him. If I am silent, it doesn't make him come to his senses. If I talk with him about how unreasonable he's being and how I just want him to be nice to me and talk to me like a normal person, he insists he's done nothing wrong and I am the one with the problem. In a way, he's right. I'm very sensitive, and I shouldn't let that get to me so bad. If I get mad and go off on him, it makes him even more mad and he will then ignore me. So I can't win no matter what I do.

 All I want is for him to be nice to me. All I want is to be able to talk to my husband like a normal human being. In my relationship before Gabriel, I was the unreasonable one. I was a huge bitch, and I knew it. I made a conscious effort to completely turn myself around with Gabriel, and I am a completely different person. It's not even an effort for me to be calm when a fight is brewing, it just comes naturally to me now. Kind of ironic that it does me no good now.

 The second day of ignoring Gabriel, he did approach me and apologize. He didn't specify what he was sorry for, he just said sorry, tried to kiss me, and expected it to all be better. It didn't really help. So many times when I fuck up, I apologize, but Gabriel doesn't accept my apology. He says, “You think one sorry is going to make it all better?” and will continue to be mad at me for awhile. When I try to play him at his own game, it doesn't work. He just gets pissed off that I didn't accept his apology.

 So, this problem with him is minor, but sometimes he is so stubborn, I can't bear the sight of him.

 Right now, one of his other nieces, Chuy, is playing next to me. She has been here for about an hour. I am ignoring her in a polite way. I'm not engaging in conversation with her, but I will respond if she says something to me. I don't know why she doesn't leave. I would think it would be boring for her. Oh well. At least she can't read what I'm writing.