#a lamp wearing a wig...hUh

[vaguely-concerned]

TF x Graves, 2500 words, complete and utter fluff

Stifling another yawn against the back of my hand I glance over at the window, which shows only the flat dark of a moonless night outside, before turning my eyes back to the line of T.F.’s naked back.

I’m already undressed and perched on the side of the bed, watching as T.F. is still in the middle of his nightly ritual of hanging or folding his fine clothes up all properly and neatly, lest they, I don’t know, unduly crease somewhere they ain’t meant to or somethin’. Listen, I keep my clothes in a pile on the floor by the side of the bed, right next to the shotgun, both within easy reach in the case of a middle-of-the-night emergency skipping of town. Our priorities in these matters don’t really intersect much, but to each his own and so on.

I don’t know why I’m waiting for him to come to bed to lie down myself, exactly — my eyes are already making a spirited attempt at staying shut on me whenever I blink, I’m pretty sure I’d be out and snoring in about three seconds once I got settled — but my skin has that thin restless thrum all through it that I know from experience won’t be satisfied until he’s settled into place against me and besides, the view is nothin’ to sneeze at in the meantime. He stands there shirtless, belt unbuckled and hanging loose around his narrow hips, though the fastenings of his trousers are still done up. In the light of the oil lamp across the room he’s in a rare state of relaxed unselfconscious disarray, his hair grown out long enough again that it spills over his shoulders and down his back while he fastidiously fastens the cufflinks back into place on the empty shirt so they’ll be easy to find in the morning. As he finishes up with the cufflinks he sings to himself under his breath, a good-natured jaunty little tune I vaguely remember the Brick would sometimes break out once you got a couple of drinks in him.

The hum under my skin grows higher and keener.

Stretching an arm out I hook my fingers into one of his belt loops and gently pull him in by it towards the side of the bed, until he’s standing between my legs. It prompts a half-bemused noise from him, but he goes along easily — when I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his belly he seems to catch on, though, a sound of amusement vibrating through his chest.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, twining his fingers into the short hair there, thumb trailing back and forth along the hairline.

T.F.’s too damned scrawny to have much in the way of padding anywhere, but there’s the warm body softness to him here nevertheless, the sweet yield and shift of a living thing whose pliancy belies the supple strength beneath. I rest my cheek against the flat of his stomach and sigh, moving my hand at the small of his back in slow caressing circles.

“Come to bed already,” I murmur, too sleep-softened along the edges to worry overmuch about makin’ sense.

He chuckles, fingers stroking through my hair. “Well, I was on my way, but then I was waylaid by some deplorable fellow in the process. Hell of a thing.”

I grin and turn my face up to him, so that my chin is resting against his belly and my lips brush his skin when I talk. “Huh. Sounds like a real shady character. You want a trustworthy sorta guy to escort you safely the rest of the way?”

“With such dangerous reprobates skulking around in the area, that’s probably for the best,” T.F. nods somberly, fond amusement deepening his voice. He runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose. “Could I afford to hire the services of a strapping upstanding gentleman like yourself, though?”

I make a nonchalant sound in my nose, squeezing him closer against me for a moment. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it, this one’s on the house.”

His thumb drifts down to rest at the upturned corner of my mouth as he grins back at me. “Hey, looks like it’s my lucky day.”

I kiss his stomach and lean back enough so I can start in on the fastenings of his trousers — not with any sort of heat behind it, there’s no hint of sex in the air, but in a weird way this is equally satisfying, the everyday-textured contentment of being close without any particular purpose, being the one to slowly render him naked in front of me for no other reason than that he lets me, his hands still smoothing patiently through my hair while I work.

Once I’ve got all the buttons sorted I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his hip bone until I can tuck it into the waist of his trousers and use it to tug them down. We get them about half-way down his thighs like that before we have to pause for him to shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own, his hand resting on my shoulder for balance as he does the traditional one-legged hop to extricate his foot. Serves him right for only ever wearing pants that might as well have been painted onto him. I mean, not that I’m complainin’, mind.

“Whoa!” he says, laughing as he almost overbalances at the last hurdle, but my hand shoots out to steady him by the hip before too much disaster can be wrought. “Well, not the smoothest strip tease I’ve ever pulled off, sorry about the inconvenience.”

I nose at the newly revealed crease of his hip over the edge of his underwear. “Eh, that’s okay, if I actually wanted a proper show I’d just suggest a round of strip poker again and sit back and watch while you lose.”

“Oh, that’s a strange yet beautiful dream world you’ve made up for yourself there, Malcolm. It’s touching, really, the things the mind will do to protect itself from the truth. Positively — aah!”

T.F. jumps as I draw some of the skin of his hip between my lips and use them to nip sharply at it. His startled yelp turns into a snigger as I let go, possibly ruining the castigating effects somewhat when I brush my lips soothingly over that spot right after.

“Let that be a lesson to ya,” I say sternly.

“A lesson on what, that your mom was apparently half turtle?”

I grunt, still trailing soft kisses over his skin. “That judge in Piltover was right back then, you are an incorrigible menace to all decent and right-thinking people everywhere.”

“First of all, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malcolm, thank you. Two, including yourself among the ‘decent and right-thinking’ feels like the invention of some fresh new form of fraud by way of imposture unfolding before my eyes, and it’s an honour. And third, that seems to me to be some very selective memory you have there, considering His Honour Judge Highton had some even more colourful words for you after you blew up the entire north wall of the court building breakin’ me out.”

“He might’ve been given to wearing a damn silly mop on his head, but you couldn’t fault him on his vocabulary,” I concede. Before that whole incident I’d honestly thought the wigs were some sort of practical joke the Pilties would play on gullible outsiders, but as it turns out no, if you get sent to jail in the twin cities they add the indignity of makin’ someone wearing a dead badger on their head break the bad news to you. It’s a strange ol’ world out there, alright. In Bilgewater, where people are much more sensible, the justice system basically boils down to the bounty board, or — if you’ve really managed to make a nuisance of yourself — a bunch of captains may call a temporary ceasefire with each other and go get your ass together. I’ve found that the risk of getting on the bad end of an unfair trial is about the same in both places, though of course the Bilgewater one tends to be harder to come back from if carried out to its fullest. I consider myself a bit of an expert in these things.

T.F. makes a thoughtful sound. “To be fair I don’t think anyone had ever given him cause or inspiration for profanity like you did.”

“Aw. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before he straightens for long enough to work his second foot free as well, standing there in just the sleek silky underpants he somehow seems to have an endless fresh supply of wherever we go. (My money’s on some sinister underground ring of lingerie-oriented tailors across south-eastern Valoran, for the record; when it comes to secret societies the Noxians just can’t help themselves.)

“I do my best. Hang on just one moment, I’ll be right back,” he says and ruffles my hair before he turns around, which I would complain about except that the view is, as previously mentioned, impeccable, and I’m sleepy enough to be magnanimous.

After meticulously folding his trousers and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, T.F. moves over to the table across the room and extinguishes the oil lamp, then whistles under his breath as he produces a card from somewhere — he does this, seemingly from thin air and no matter how little he’s wearing; I prefer not to speculate too much about how, exactly — and lets a little magic into it so it gives off a low glow, only enough to light his way the short walk back across the room, ‘cause in T.F.’s world the stubbing of toes and smacking of shins against unexpected furniture in the dark is somethin’ that happens to other people. That probably says some things about him I’m not ready to go puzzlin’ out at this time of night, and that he wouldn’t want to have anyone go puzzlin’ about too hard in the first place anyway.

When I hold out my hand for him in the dark he smiles and takes it, twining our fingers together, and I use the hold to tug him in and deposit him, in a neat controlled wrestler’s roll held close against me as I lay down, to his side of the bed. He laughs again at that, a surprised delighted sound that edges dangerously close to a giggle but hey, I ain’t no snitch, so who’s gonna testify against him, huh?

The card ends up on the far side of his pillow after the tumble, still giving off a glow, enough to illuminate the bed and lend the shadows around it some warmth. It makes the bed seem a small cozy island, the rest of the world rendered a not-unfriendly ocean of darkness around it.

T.F. looks at me like the world’s most contented castaway, bourgeoning crow’s feet punctuating his smile on either side and fingers still linked with mine. His hair is mussed from the meandering fall onto the bed. If I were only fractionally less about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep, my body might start to get ideas about it. Well, tomorrow is always another day.

With the back of my free hand I brush some of his hair away from his brow, and he cranes into it like a well-pleased cat. Even with the blankets tangled around our feet and the not-quite-right positions we’ve ended up in, having tumbled into place rather than settled ourselves with purpose, everything feels warm and loose and comfortable, like I could fall asleep like this even with the decidedly odd angle my arm is at.

As if sensing that the drowsiness is about to claim me for real, T.F. brings our linked hands up to his face so he can press his lips to my scarred knuckles before he lets go, then reaches to pull the covers over us, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around my shoulder properly before snuggling under it himself, hooking his leg over my thigh as he settles into place. I shift until we fit together, the familiarity of how to rest against each other just right comfortable like an old and well-loved piece of clothing. On a sigh he rests our foreheads together, craning forward the tiny amount needed to brush our mouths together and humming contentedly when I meet him there. It’s a slow kiss, but it lingers, a dry sweet press of lips like one last spark sending the day off down into the gently drifting murk of sleep that’s about to claim me for a few hours.

When it ends — I don’t think either of us was really the first to pull back, at some point the kiss simply, in the way of snowflakes on tongues, melted into something different and less defined with the warmth — there’s a moment when my eyes can still fight against slipping shut. It’s weird, the way you can look at someone every day for years and still not feel like you’ve had your fill. T.F.’s sharp narrow face, his high pointy little cheekbones and mouth still curved with a smile as he watches me back — there’s something to knowing I’m gonna see all that again tomorrow morning that all the damn money on Runeterra couldn’t get you. And take it from me, from what I’ve seen of the world there ain’t a lot of things in this life enough money won’t buy. Stumbling across one of them long before we even knew what we had, by a stroke of little more’n dumb fucking luck… sometimes it feels like the biggest heist we ever pulled.

“Hey, Tobias?” I say, brushing the tip of my nose against his as my eyelids finally give up both the battle and the war and slide closed.

“Hmmm?” he says, cheerfully drowsy as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, because I can’t think of any damn happier thing in the world to say to him.

He wraps his arms around me, his hand stroking meanderingly up and down the scar-crossed span of my back, fingers trailing over my skin with the perfect amount of firmness because he’s taken the time to learn exactly how much pressure it takes to make it comforting. As sleep starts pulling me under to calmer depths I tuck my head under his chin, so my face is pressed to the line of his throat and to his chest. He smells so nice, all warmly real and well-known like my own breathing.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees on a yawn, nuzzling at the top of my head and tightening his arms around me, just for a moment.

I've been trying to write stuff -- literally just anything, no matter how meandering and nonsensical -- to try to break out of a writer's block; it's not really working so far but at least I've got SOMETHING tangible to show for it at the end of the day, so, you know, uh... partial success I guess?? haha

The idea of T.F. having a judge somewhere out there who considers him the One True Nemesis of his career, J. Jonah Jameson style, even though T.F. barely even remembers his name, came from a wonderful conversation with @inversway, and the idea makes me laugh so hard every time I think about it.

ETA: Also put this on AO3, so I have somewhere to put these ficlets that isn't just tumblr! I'm grimly clinging on to this blue hellsite like a obstinate barnacle to the hull of the Titanic, but I do realize it's not the best place to archive uh anything lol

#tf x graves #twistedgraves #league of legends #my writing #been trying to live the philosophy 'it doesn't have to be good; it just has to be SOMETHING' #and from that I have at least learned that I don't necessarily think perfectionism was the main problem anyway lol #every little insight helps I suppose

[halfway-happyyy]

She’s My Kind Of Girl

AN: this started as an idea of the lovely @bskarsgardlove92‘s and i kind of just rolled with it! i hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated! 

synopsis: Alex dresses in drag to attend a costume party with his girl, as one half of Swedish superband, ABBA! Absolute fluff ensues!

“Though you may hail from a long and distinguished line of inexplicably talented thespians, I know you well enough by now to recognize when you're not telling me something.”

Alexander passed a serviette over the front of his mouth and swallowed back a bite of salmon, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. “I beg your pardon?”

She sipped deeply from her glass of chilled wine, and cocked her head to the side, eyeing him. “Don’t play coy with me, Alex. You were on the line with Eija when I came into the kitchen. That glint in your eyes says so much and then nothing at all in equal measure.”

“One could almost say that you know me too well, kid.”

"Almost," She grinned around the delicate rim of her glass. “Now spill it, Skarsgård.”

Alexander leaned back against the oak chair, dangling a long arm over the back of it. “Dad’s seventieth birthday is next month. Eija’s hosting a party back home for him, and she wants us to be there.”

She thought fondly of Alexander’s father often; he had been one of the first faces of his family that she’d had the privilege of meeting when her and Alexander had started taking things a little more seriously. Where her own father figure had been virtually non-existent most of the time, she was blessed to have such a wonderful father-in-law in Stellan. He was such an integral part of their lives that the thought of not returning home to Sweden to celebrate him was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll look into flights tomorrow morning. What kind of get together is it? I would imagine knowing Eija as I do, that she's got something wonderful up her sleeve?”

Alexander's lips curved up into a devilish smirk and he cocked his head to the side.

“She's hosting a costume party.”

There it was…

“God, I can only imagine the ideas that beautiful mind of yours has already dreamed up.”

Alexander tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth, his blue eyes glittering mischievously in the low light from the dining room lamp. “Hm, you know how much dad loves ABBA…”

It was the precise tone of his voice that she reckoned prepared her for what was coming next. “Oh boy,” She giggled under her breath.

“Well, I propose that we go as Björn and Agnetha.”

She mulled the thought of it over in her head, and then an idea swam into her mind's eye that caused a smirk similar to her other half's to tug the edges of her lips skyward. “I'll do it on one condition, my love.”

His eyebrow lifted in intrigue. “I'm all ears.”

“I will do it if I can be the Björn to your Agnetha.”

His laughter- utterly loud and booming, filled every square space of their home with a warm and joyous sound. When it subsided, he leveled his gaze with hers and she noticed immediately, the blush that had risen to the apples his cheeks. After a moment, he nodded his head finitely. “You've got yourself a deal, kid.”

*

She glanced at the watch face beneath the bell sleeve of her silver, sequined blouse, and sighed heavily. “C'mon dancing queen, we haven’t got all night…” Alexander emerged from the bathroom door a moment later, a blonde, perfectly styled wig fell below the cups of a filled-out bra.

“I must say,” He reached toward her to tousle the brunette wig atop of her head, a smirk in place on his features. “Silver and forest green sequins do wonders for you, kid. Or should I say- Björn.”

“Oh hush,” She giggled. “I can hardly imagine the outfit you’ve conjured up for this evening." They gazed at each other in silence for a moment before she gestured to her vanity. "Shall I do your makeup?”

Alexander shifted from foot to foot. “If you wouldn't mind,” He murmured.

She stood on tiptoes to twirl strands of blonde hair around her finger. “It would be an honour, Agnetha.”

She followed Alexander to the vanity next to their bay window and turned on the lamp so that it illuminated his face perfectly. Pulling up a photo of Agnetha on her phone for reference, she set to work. “She sometimes likes to wear bold colours on her eyes, so that’s the look we’re going for this evening.” She started the process by moisturizing and priming his face, opting out of a foundation, and using a tinted moisturizer instead. “Alright, close your eyes for me, my love.” He did as he was told, and she allowed herself a moment to admire how breathtaking he truly was. After a couple of seconds of searching, she found a palette that was made up of different shades of purple and applied a muted lavender hue over both of his lids. Wanting to go a little darker, she blended a violet shade into his creases and stood back to admire her handiwork. Nearly done, she decided to go dramatic on the eyeliner, but when she reached for her favourite tube of mascara, Alexander faltered.

“I don’t need… falsies?”

She blanched. “Alex, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but your natural eyelashes are beautiful,” She took his face in her hands and gently turned it to the side, gesturing to his left eye. “Look how long and healthy they are. I think I have some cheap lashes lying around somewhere if you really want them, but I think a few coats of mascara will do wonderfully.”

He reached up to press his lips to the underside of her jaw, shaking his head. “No, I trust you.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and got back to work. “You’ve done magnificent so far. I’m just about finished…” She glanced around for her mauve pink lipstick, held a hand beneath his chin and applied the colour to his lips. “Alright, rub your lips together for me please.” She watched him do as she asked. “Now pat them together, as if you were smacking them.” She waited. “Alright, for the finishing touch,” She reached for her bottle of setting spray, told him to close his eyes, and let the mist settle over his face. “You my love, are finished and ready for the evening.

He leaned forward to inspect her handiwork closely, and a large smile grew on his face. “You’ve done a wonderful job, kid.”

She nodded towards the washroom door. “Go on then, Chiquitita. The party awaits.”

“You and your ABBA puns, huh?” Alexander smirked, before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until your brothers get a hold of us.” She snickered. While she waited for Alexander to wrap up, she began lacing up the white platform boots she had found weeks ago. They added an extra four inches to her height, and she fought back a giggle as she sipped the last remnants of her pre-game cocktail.

Ten minutes elapsed, and she began to feel the familiar tug of inebriation deep in her belly. Suddenly, Alexander cleared his throat. “I’m coming out. Are you ready?”

“I’ve literally never been more ready in my life.” She deadpanned.

Alexander emerged from the washroom, and all she could do was gape at his figure as he stood poised in the doorway. Lord knows where, but he had managed to find a hot pink jumpsuit with a silver-sequined trim around the neckline and a heart-shaped cutout that showed off his adorable, trim bellybutton perfectly. He donned glossy, white boots on his feet that only added to his seemingly immense height. “Well, what do you think?” He asked, dubiously.

She swallowed hard. “I have lots of feelings about it actually… but our car is here, and your father awaits.” She held her arm out for him to take. “Shall we go, my beautiful Agnetha?”

Alexander accepted her arm gratefully and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Lead the way, Björn.”

“What are your brothers going as?” She asked, as they slid into the backseat of the sedan.

“Uh, I think Bill and his family said that they were going as Disney characters. Gustaf and Valter are going as Top Gun’s Maverick and Goose, respectively,” He paused so that they could share a laugh at that. “And I’m not sure yet what Sam and his family are doing.”

She scratched contemptuously at the back of her head. “I hate this wig already.”

Alexander snorted into his drink. “But it looks so good on you… the way it kind of frames your face in that ‘the 70’s called and they want their hair back’ kind of way…”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the heart-shaped bellybutton window for me.”

Alexander guffawed loudly. “Oh really? We're playing that game? Well then, it’s the extra four or five inches that you’re wearing but you still don’t reach past my sternum, for me.”

They rounded the corner to Stellan’s street, and laughter bubbled up out of her mouth like a song. “It’s the fact that you look better than most women I know, for me.” This sent Alexander into such a frenzy that she paid the driver herself. “Alright, Agnetha, I have a dream and it involves you exiting this vehicle tonight,” She nudged his back to get him out of the open car door. “Let's go, girlfriend.” They ambled up the pathway hand-in-hand and stood giggling in front of Stellan’s door. Roaring laughter and bits and pieces of broken Swedish and English conversation could be heard from inside as her finger hovered above the doorbell. “You ready?”

Alexander nodded, finitely. “Go on then,”

She rang the bell and waited for what felt like years, before the door flung open and Eija greeted them in a demure, feline costume. Her face was disbelieving at first, but then her painted-on whiskers twitched; she cracked and laughter roared from her belly in happy waves. When she could speak again, she shook her head gleefully. “Come in, come in you two. What an honour to have one half of the world’s greatest band with us!” She ushered them into Stellan’s lively home, the scent of a freshly-cooked feast hung tantalizing in the air, and made her mouth water hungrily. “Just wait until papa sees you!” She clapped her hands merrily, pulling them into the adjacent living room.

Their entrance caused mass hysteria; pure laugher on a level that was hard to fathom. Gustaf approached them first, a pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, and he was sporting a mustache. Clad in a pair of army-green coveralls, the badge on his chest simply read, ‘Gus.’ “I have to say that when Alex first told me what the two of you were planning, this was not what I had in mind…” He scratched absentmindedly at the bridge of his nose, his smile wry. “But you two absolutely knocked it out of the park. Well done, brother.” He belly laughed, and wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I can’t wait until dad sees you.”

Valter appeared before them next, clad in the exact same costume as Gustaf accept that his badge read, ‘Maverick’, and he had on over his blue eyes, a pair of mirrored Rayban aviators. “Mamma Mia, Agnetha! Such lovely bosoms you have!”

A hand appeared out of the abyss and sneaked its way toward Alexander’s ample breasts, but the younger Skarsgård's plan was foiled before he could get there with Alexander slapping it away just in the nick of time. “Touch them and die, Valter.” He beamed, devilishly.

Valter's grin was sheepish. “My apologies Agnetha- Björn.”

She tossed a wink his way. “Turns out she can take care of herself just fine.”

“Alright, alright, where are they?” Stellan’s achingly familiar voice- unmistakable anywhere, boomed throughout the room. When he caught sight of them, he stood stock-still and tilted his head back, his rolling laughter loud and genuine. It caused pleasant goosebumps to rise in waves over her arms, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “This is it,” He announced. “I couldn’t dare to ask for another thing after this. My eldest boy and his love coming in drag as Agnetha and Björn? This is seventy, folks!” He closed the distance between them to wrap them both in a crushing bear hug. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering brightly beneath the low light of the many lamps scattered around the living room. “How unbelievably wonderful it is to see you both here.” He kissed both of their cheeks over again, his smile wide and utterly contagious. “On a totally unrelated note- that you and Björn here have similar situations happening… ehm, up top, is really quite miraculous, isn’t it?”

Alexander rolled his azure eyes, laughing loudly at that. “Happy birthday, dad.”

“And what a wonderful birthday it turned out to be. Come, come. We have much to discuss.”

The night carried on in much the same fashion; drinks were had (and spilt), laughter was shared, pictures were taken- and all the while, she just felt unimaginably blessed to be a part of it all. Closer towards the evening’s finish, she felt Alexander’s hand tighten around her own, and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that this was her family. This was where she belonged.

#literal ICONS #who doesn't love little ABBA?? #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard oneshot #alexander skarsgard drabble #drabble #writing #fluff #alex sstuff

[imaginepirates]

Modern! Beckett

Alrighty, so I know these were requested forever ago (sorry, fml) but here you are with another modern au setting in which Beckett is plunged into today’s world. You live on a peaceful vineyard, so if you need something aesthetically pleasing rn, this is it. 

@fablelady @kay-maybe​ @panagiasikelia​ 

~3200 words

~~~~~~~

          Something had gone horribly wrong with the food. Some sort of toxin had made its way into your body. It had to have. Otherwise, you wouldn't be seeing a man standing in your vineyard, wearing an embroidered waistcoat, looking completely and utterly lost.

          You'd been walking barefoot through the rows of vines after breakfast, letting your toes curl against the earth. It was a pleasant sensation. A light breeze tugged at your loose hair, and the morning sun warmed your arms and back. Ripe grapes hung from the vineyard’s vines, purplish blue, ready to be harvested and sold to the nearby winery. You looked up, gazing over the endless rows of green and out to the golden fields beyond. Even further was the shimmering lake, the morning sun dappling across its surface, vast and blue and ending hazily at the mountainous opposite shore.

         You wandered aimlessly, with no goal in mind, just looking out over the vast stretches of empty land. There was another vineyard in the distance, much the same as yours, and a small road interrupted the natural beauty, but there was little else around. A small city sat beyond the crest of a far off hill. You couldn’t see it from where you lived, but you drove in to get groceries and anything else you needed.

         It was as you walked that you found yourself face to face with a small man who had somehow made his way deep within your vineyard. He stared at you with wide eyes and a perplexed expression, and you stared back, equally surprised.

         It took a few moments to even comprehend the idea of someone ending up on your property. The section of vines you were in was far from the road, and you likely would have noticed someone coming from the road in any case. He didn’t really look like he’d walked a long way; there was none of the thin layer of dust that a person accumulated while walking long distances. You had no idea where he could have possibly come from.

         The second thing that you noticed about the stranger was his manner of dress. A pale blue embroidered waistcoat, breaches, and strange heeled shoes were hardly the normal manner of dress. Not to mention the wig.

          It took you another instant to realize that you recognized the man. Which means I must be dreaming, or I must be crazy. He bared an uncanny resemblance to a character from one of your favorite movies. There’s no way this could possibly be him. Lord Cutler Beckett, in my yard.

         You must have been staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, as he cleared his throat.

         You had a hard time forcing words out of your mouth. “Oh,” was all you could manage at first. Then, “Any idea how you got here?”

         The man had the decency to look embarrassed. “No, I’m afraid.” He fidgeted with the hem of his loose white shirt. “Where am I, exactly?”

         “In the middle of my vineyard, actually.”

         “Ah. And that is?”

         “A ways from wherever you come from, I think.”

         He seemed to agree, assessing your clothes and the area around him.

         “Would you like to come inside? We might be able to figure things out better.”

         “Thank you.”

         You walked back between the rows of grapevines, much more quickly than your earlier aimless meandering. The house was just ahead, a red roof against sandy walls. Cypress trees stood, lining the gravel driveway, at the front of the house. Beckett didn’t seem phased in the least by the outside appearance; you were sure he’d seen things like it before. It was old-fashioned, if not truly that old, in the style of Tuscan vineyards.

         Beckett got a shock upon seeing the inside of the house, though. You led him up the stairs to your back porch and through the double doors at the back of the house. If the porch a story off the ground didn’t seem strange enough to him, the modern furniture, lights, decor, and appliances shocked him. You could hear him gasp a little behind you as he entered the house.

         You entered into the kitchen. It was a large, open space connected to your living room. Bar seating separated the two spaces. “Water?” You asked. “I know it can get hot out there.”

         “Hm? Oh, yes, please.” Somehow, he still managed to keep his manners.

         You pulled a glass from the cupboard of the kitchen, filling it with water from the refrigerator. You looked back at Beckett, who stared on quizzically with his mouth slightly open. When you gave him the glass, he eyed it suspiciously before drinking.

         “Perhaps ‘where’ am I wasn’t the right question,” he murmured. He drank slowly, eyeing everything around him. You were half tempted to turn on the TV, just to give him a start, but you decided against it.

         “I think you’re going to find that everything is different around here. It might take some getting used to.” That was an understatement and you knew it.

         “Ah.” He continued to stare. Finally, his eyes snapped back into focus and he looked at you. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to play the part of the host?”

         “I have plenty of room.”

         He raised his eyebrows. “You live here alone?” “Not anymore, it seems, though I might like to know the name of my guest.” You gave him a smile, and he tentatively smiled back.

         “Beckett. Cutler Beckett.” It was your turn to be dazed. “Thank you. I’d rather not make myself more lost by trying to find somewhere else to stay.”

         “I understand.” Huh. Cutler Beckett. Right in my kitchen.

         You showed him to a guest room. It was fairly minimal, and the decorations were sparse. The room had been painted an ivory color, and you’d complimented it with pale blue decorations. The curtains sported flowering shapes in both colors, whereas the bedspread was slightly patterned in varying shades of blue. An ovular mirror stood to one side of the room. It was charming, in its own way, though you were sure Beckett was used to more lavish accommodations.

         He, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. He tapped the bed absentmindedly with a hand, looking around. He furrowed his brows, looking at the nightstand with its lamp. “What’s this?”

         “A lamp. It’s a light that you can control from next to your bed.” You then proceeded to show him the lightswitch.

         He stared, bewitched. “How does it work?”

         “I’m…. not completely sure. It’s so common, I don’t really think about that. I know that it’s a complicated mess of wires, though.”

         He continued to stare at the switch. As you left the room, you heard him give it a few experimental clicks. You smiled. It was sort of adorable, the way he was enchanted with everything. Much different from the man from the story. Softer. More human.

         “Are you hungry?” You asked. It was getting on towards midday, and you found the idea of lunch to be appealing.

         “The thought of food tempts me, I will admit.”

         “It’s decided, then. Perhaps we’ll make it a picnic.” You busied yourself in the kitchen, pulling out meats, cheeses, fruits, nuts, and crackers. Snacky foods, but delicious when combined, and perfectly filling.

         Beckett seemed a little dubious at the idea of eating outside, but you assured him that he wouldn’t get dirty, nor would he have trouble with bugs.

         “And the heat?” he asked.

         “Firstly, you can lose the waistcoat. And the wig. They won’t do you any favors. Secondly,” you snatched a floppy sun hat from a peg on the wall, “I have two.”

         You might have considered getting him different clothes if you’d been worried about someone seeing you, but you weren’t, so you didn’t bother. You instead put the large sun hat on his now bare head, the hat clashing horribly with everything else.

         You put yours firmly in place, picked up the basket in which you’d put your food, and strolled out the back door. Beckett followed right behind you, staring out at everything he could see. “It feels like Greece,” he said, “or Italy.”

         “Thank you. I try to keep that feeling, actually.”

         “You’re doing beautifully.”

         The words took you aback. You could see that he was perfectly serious, but you hadn’t expected such a compliment from him. You’d hardly expected him to say anything nice at all. The story didn’t do him justice, then. You’d always expected him to be a bit of an ass. You supposed he still had the chance, but he’d been nothing but the picture of polite company, if not massively confused polite company.

         You walked him down a winding path through the golden fields surrounding the vineyard. It trailed down to the shore of the lake, whose deep blue waters stretched out to a hazy horizon. Mountains rose up far beyond, too far away to see clearly, barely standing out against the sky. A small boat sat on the beach there, on your side,  and you had a mind to row it a ways down the bank.

         You pushed off from the bank, peacefully rowing through the serene waters. Few boats used the lake, making it ideally scenic. You would have hated for the lake to be crowded. More urban areas got choked with tourists during the summer, but you were far enough away from any big cities that it wasn’t a problem. Besides, the nearest town didn’t have major hotels.

         You rowed along, Beckett sitting opposite you in the little boat. He seemed to be enjoying himself, looking out over the scenery. The tension had left his shoulders. He seemed almost peaceful this way, staring out at the hazy mountains, looking over the golden fields and banks of trees.

         You arrived at a flat, grassy area shaded by trees. The two of you got out and sat beside the lake, shielded from the blistering sun. You unpacked the basket you’d brought with you. You and Beckett sat in companionable silence, enjoying the meal, enjoying a slight breeze. Beckett looked ridiculous in the sun hat. It seemed too big on him, somehow, and it made him look much less threatening than you were used to his being. Meeting him in person had been a lot different than how he was portrayed, you reflected.

         “It’s wonderful here. Much more peaceful than home,” he said. His expression changed when he spoke of his home, like he’d tasted something sour. “I do wonder what’s going on. And how I’m supposed to get back. If I’m supposed to get back. It’s a rather terrifying thought, that I might never go home.” By the look on his face, the thought was just now occurring to him.

         “I’m sure we’ll find a way to get you home.”

         “Are you sure? I don’t know how I ended up here in the first place. It seems rather like a dream, though I can say with confidence that it isn’t.”

         “You had to get here somehow. I don’t think you’re meant to stay here forever.”

         He looked out over the lake. “Things are such a mess there, the idea of staying here isn’t so awful, actually.”

         “Maybe you just needed time away.”

         “I doubt the world would be so kind.”

         You steered away from the subject, and the two of you ended up talking about the vineyard. He knew more about viniculture than you might have guessed.

         “It really does take me back to some of my lessons in school,” he said. “They had pictures of the Italian countryside in some of my books. It was much like this, though I don’t remember any lakes.”

         You smiled. “It’s one of my favorite places. Too many methods of production have taken on more modern approaches; the massive farms growing wheat, or the rows upon rows of corn, interrupted only by giant sprinklers and massive tractors. I like keeping things small. It’s so much more peaceful than those unnerving monocultures.”

         “I always wanted to go. To Greece, or Italy, I mean. I loved all the stories, all the history. I wanted to experience it for myself.”

         “Never got to go?”

         “No. My travels took me elsewhere. Africa, China, India, the New World. I always told myself that I’d make time for it later.”

         “Surely the places you did go to proved to be interesting.”

         “Very. The cultures of those places were foreign to me; lord knows they weren’t part my education. I found them fascinating. Tell me, have the American colonies expanded? I’m sure they’d have had to, by now.”

         “Well, yes.” You didn’t think he’d like where this was going.

         Something in your expression must have tipped Beckett off. “They are still under the control of the British?”

         “No.”

         “The Spanish? God forbid, don’t tell me the French got control. I can’t imagine those frogs doing anything good with the land.”

         “Actually, the colonies had a revolution and became their own country.”

         “Ah,” he said. “I suppose that’s wont to happen sometimes.”

         “Yes, yes it is.” You thought of all the other countries that had broken away from Britain, too.

         You packed up, stepping back into the boat. This time, you drifted out towards the center of the lake. “Did you spend much time at sea?” you asked. “You did seem to travel a lot.” You didn’t want to make it look like you knew too much about him, even though you did.

         “I spent a fare amount of time at sea, yes, though I typically settled down once I got somewhere.” He let his hand skim the top of the water. “The sea is much different from a lake, though. Calmer.”

         You were out on the lake until dusk, talking about this and that; the places you’d been and the things you’d seen, all the questions Beckett had for you about modern technology and travel, and a hundred other things. You figured it was the most relaxed Becektt had ever been. He even laughed from time to time at your jokes. How strange it is, to see him like this. I think he’s growing on me.

         You seemed to be growing on him, too. “You’re very easy to get along with, you know that? I haven’t just sat and talked with someone in ages. At least, not without wanting to get something from them.”

         “Is there nothing you want to get from me?” you asked innocently.

         Beckett looked at you, surprised. A slight blush dusted his features. Then he smiled, a little wickedly, and raised an eyebrow. “Was that flirting?”

         It was your turn to blush. “Perhaps a little.”

         “Just know that it can go both ways.” A smug look crossed his face as you blushed deeper. “Although I have to admit, I’m rather out of practice. It’s been a long time since anyone’s flirted with me.”

         “I can’t see why. You’re such a charming man.”

         “Am I? I rather think that my good attitude has everything to do with my company, and nothing to do with my charm.”

         You rolled your eyes, rowing back to shore. By the time you got back to the house, it was time for dinner, and you coerced Beckett into helping you make it. He had little idea what he was doing, but managed not to make a complete mess with any of his tasks. It’s cute, you thought, to watch him try doing domestic things.

         The two of you enjoyed a pasta dish with chicken and tomatoes, fresh basil and olive oil drizzled over the top. You had an assortment of fruits to enjoy, too. You plucked a pomegranate from the mix.

         Beckett eyed you. “I suppose you know the story of Hades and Persephone?”

         “I do. How Hades fell in love with Persephone, kidnapped her, and tricked her into eating seeds from the fruit of the underworld. She had to return to him, then, and spend half of each year with him.”

         “A man from another world, falling for a goddess of vegetation.” Beckett’s eyes focused on the pomegranate. “Sometimes, mythology is unbelievable. Sometimes, it isn’t.”

         You cut the fruit, taking out a large spoonful of the burgundy seeds and eating them. “I like the version where Persephone knows exactly what she’s doing.”

         Beckett watched you, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

         “It’s a little wicked, I must confess. The thought that she was no innocent victim, but a wholly conscious decider of her fate. Perhaps not all women want to pick flowers all day. Some of us might like a taste of power, of having men fear our names.”

         “And would you have me fear yours?” He arched a brow. You laughed. “No, no.”

         “Would you rather me kidnap you, then?” He didn’t give you time to answer, instead pulling you out of your seat to be flush against him. “Tell me, do you dance?”

         “Does the Macarena count?” He gave you a questioning look. “Nevermind,” you said. “The answer is no.”

         “Shame. Looks like you need a teacher.” He smirked. “It might be a little hard without music, though.”

         “What song?” Beckett looked confused. “Can you get any waltzes?”

         “Alexa,” you turned your head towards the small device sitting on your counter. “Play the Second Waltz.” You turned back to Beckett. “It’s a bit more contemporary, but I trust you’ll know how to dace to it.”

         The tune, familiar to you, at least, began. Beckett put a hand on your waist and took one of your hands with the other. Your free hand floated just above his shoulder, where you assumed it was supposed to go.

         “Don’t be shy,” he urged.

         The moment your hand came to rest on his shoulder, he took a step forward, forcing you to step back. He guided you to one side, then forward, and again to the other side. Your movements were clumsy, but you began to get the hang of it as he repeated the steps.

         “Not so hard, see?”

         You smiled shyly, aware of just how close the two of you were.

         “Blushing already?” he teased. He suddenly pulled you flush against his chest. “And to think I hadn’t even given you anything to blush about.”

         “You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” You barely managed to get the words out through your embarrassment.

         “Perhaps. Though I’m sure I can make you blush harder if I try.”

         “Is that a promise?”

         Beckett laughed. “You’re not so bad at this yourself, you know. But if I must…” The hand on your waist took a firmer grip, while the one holding yours came to rest on your cheek. His thumb grazed over your lower lip. Softly, he planted a kiss to your lips, staying close even after it was finished. “Perhaps staying here forever isn’t such a bad thought after all,” he whispered. He stepped back. “Though I suppose I have to find a way back at some point.”

         “We will,” you said, still a little dizzy from the kiss.

         “Together?”

         “Together.”

~~~~~~~

If anyone was wondering about the song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPG_WUgHbis

#potc #pirates #pirates of the caribbean #becket #lord beckett #cutler beckett #request #modern au #modern #au #drabble #drabbles #writing #fanfic #potc fanfic

[lupienne]

The Reality - Negan and Lucille

Hey guys, here’s a little Halloween fic of Negan and Lucille. I started it like two years ago and never felt motivated to finish it. So I finally sat down today on Halloween and wrote the end of it, and while I’m not really happy with it... whatever. Here it is anyway! I think it’s kind of bittersweet, but that’s just me. 

-

The Reality

Gourds were on porches, leaves on the ground, and the stores were filled with pumpkin-flavored everything. The crisp air was a slap to the lungs, in a good way.

I'd always loved Fall, and I'd always looked forward to Halloween. That night when reality wavered on the edge. When you could be dark or light, the opposite of yourself – when you could be anything for just a few hours.

I hadn't been a fan of the days passing by lately. Dread sat like a tumor in my stomach.

The reality was... that reality fucking sucked.

I watched my breath puff out white as I came home on Thursday. Maybe it wouldn't fucking rain this Halloween. We might get snow instead.

After dinner, I polished off a few apple cider donuts, then settled on the couch to watch TV with Lucille. She was quiet and sleepy-eyed as the clock ticked towards my bedtime. The holiday was days away, falling right splat on a Saturday.

“Tony said he found some fuckin' booze flavored like Candy Corn. I hope that's not all he's gonna have, because that's gross as fuck.” I yawned. “What do you think I should dress as? Fuck, I shouldn't have waited until the last minute.”

We always attended Tony Synder's party down the block. I wasn't really crazy about the guy, but I'm not gonna pass up free food or secretly laughing at the neighbor's costumes. (I always looked fucking amazing.) I liked to switch up my style, but Lucille usually dressed as a witch. And not some sloppy, warty green hag...but a hot fucking witch. Her slim figure in a black corset, her tits pushed up, her cascade of black curls falling over one eye. In years past, we'd come home from that party partly drunk and ripping each other's costumes off as we stumbled through the door. God damn. I was almost getting hard thinking of it.

Almost. The past few years, Lucille had me at arm's reach and I couldn't blame her. I was shit, I was an unfaithful piece of shit, but she-

That shit didn't matter anymore.

“He-Man,” she said with a chuckle. “I want to see you rocking that little leather harness.”

“Goddamn, that's right on the edge of indecent exposure. Isn't he practically naked?”

“Why do you think I suggested it?”

“I would make a hot blond.” I slid closer to her, and she nestled against my side. “You gonna be my Bewitching Beauty as always?”

She was quiet for so long I thought she'd fallen asleep.

“...think I'm gonna sit this one out.”

“But why?”

“I don't know. Just not up to it, I guess. But you go, have fun. Maybe you'll find a hot date.”

I swallowed hard. After everything....I couldn't laugh at those types of jokes.

“...Stop that shit. You're the only hot date I want. I don't wanna go alone. We don't have to stay long.”

“Look, Negan, they won't want me there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Tony adores you, which is why I ain't his biggest fan, cause I know he's always wanted to stick his dick in you-”

She let out a laugh that was more of a scoff. “Doubt he feels that way now. Nobody wants a dying woman at their party, making things awkward.”

I felt like I'd been punched in the goddamn balls. My stomach went to my throat and I roiled with sudden nausea. Eyes burning with acid. I fought it, I fought it motherfuckin' hard . My jaw clenched like I was in rigor mortis, my body shuddering.

“Don't...don't say fucking shit like that.”

She nudged my ribs. “God, calm down, Negan. What about this, huh? I don't have any hair.”

“It's Hallo-fucking-ween. Everyone is wearing a motherfuckin' wig right now. You'll fit right in.”

She leaned her head on my arm. “I'm tired. I'll think about it. Ok?”

That meant no. But it wasn't official yet, so I was gonna stop at the party store and buy that fucking He-Man getup and the best witch wig I could find. She'd change her mind right quick once she saw me in that loincloth.

As she went to bed, I stared out the window at the orange light of our Jack-o-lantern. The nausea had settled back into my bones. A constant undercurrent, moving through my veins like poisoned blood.

Too many tricks, life. Not enough treats.

---

Friday night. I stopped at the party store. The cashier rung up my purchases, then looked me over with a twinkle in her eye. I refused to be flattered – ok, I was kind of fucking flattered. The wig for Lucille was the most expensive they had. If you squinted, it looked nearly like her natural spill of curls.

At home, I put my hand on the package, and felt a rush of fucking darkness come over me. I had to fucking sit there, like so many nights, fighting the thoughts that stung like needles. If I let them keep stinging, the tears would come – the fucking breakdown would follow.

So I fought it. I shut it down. I fucking locked it up, because Lucille doesn't like it when I fall apart – and why should she? I'm the man. I'm supposed to be her rock. She hates it when I cry. I hate it when I cry.

So I fucking smiled when I walked in the door. I smelled Chinese food. Lucille was already piling mine onto a plate – the sweet n' sour chicken I love. All she ordered was a tub of Wonton soup. I frowned, but said nothing. At least she's eating.

She looked at the bag in my hand, and she too, said nothing. “Dinner's ready. And I rented some Halloween movies.”

We ate and watched Child's Play and Micheal Myers and a leprechaun who makes bad jokes. I didn't mention the costume or the party, but I knew I'd be going alone. I spend the last movie wondering how I'll excuse my wife's absence, and how the fuck I'm gonna endure the pity in their eyes. It fucking pissed me off. That they're putting her in the ground already. That she's putting herself there.

“Honey,” she rubbed my tense arm. “You ok?”

“Yeah, babe. Just...indigestion.”

And damn this woman, she got up to make me a cup of peppermint tea. I sat there numb, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do without her.

----

“By the POWER OF GRAYSCALE, behold my glorious sword! ...and by sword, I mean dick.” I adjusted He-Man's fake-fur loincloth. Played with it, flipped it around. I wore some black boxers under it, but I was still worried about...slippage. I looked so fucking ridiculous.

I slid on the blond bob wig, examining the hot mess in the mirror. “Haha, oh yeah! What a fine motherfucker. Jesus H Christ. I am a glutton for punishment. Ok, babe. I'm decent! Come check me out before I head over there!”

“It's Grayskull, not Grayscale. Get it right, Negan.”

The bedroom door swung open and my mouth dropped. My Lucille stood there, the black wig cascading over her shoulders. Her body, slimmer than ever, hugged by a slinky black dress and purple corset. Glitter dusted her chest and cheeks.

“Goddamn, woman.”

“I couldn't miss out on that Candy Corn booze.”

I smiled, but we both knew she wouldn't be drinking that. She'd be spending the night over the toilet. I had to banish that thought fuckin' quick. She already spends too many nights over the toilet.

“I'll taste test it for you first. Let you know exactly how fucking disgusting it is.”

-

We headed down the block, passing early Trick-or-Treaters. The rain had come after all, but merely presented as a pathetic drizzle. The mist in the air diffused the street lamps into yellow balls of light. I wish I'd brought my coat to drape over Lucille's bare shoulders. Spooky music played from our elderly neighbor's house and he waved at us. Lucille waved back.

Tony's yard had become a graveyard of cardboard tombstones and dry ice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucy shiver.

“Want me to go back and grab a coat?”

“Don't be dumb. We're almost there.”

On the porch, Tony's tween kid sat in a lawn chair with a bowl of candy. No costume, how quaintly rebellious. She looked bored as fuck until we rolled up, and then she snickered openly. Dear fucking God. I hoped my loincloth was in place. My nipples were like fucking pebbles on either side of the plastic harness. I quickly banged on the door.

Tony opened it. “Negan! And Lucille! Very nice, very nice. Love the costume, although I'd never call you a witch. Or anything rhyming with it.”

We did an obligatory laugh. The tween rolled her eyes.

“You look cold, Negan. Better step inside. I got the lager ready to go.” Tony had the same damn smirk as his kid.

“Why did you pick this costume for me again?” I muttered. We passed through the entryway strung with a beaded curtain of bats and spiders. The living room was bathed in red light and Monster Mash blasted from the stereo. Tony's wife always went all-out with this shit. A skeleton sat in the armchair and fake cobwebs were every-fucking-where. I hoped the dry ice didn't affect Lucy's breathing.

Wifey Tanya came over, hugging Lucille and complimenting our costumes. I glanced down, wondering how they saw her. Did they know the shadowed eyes and gaunt cheeks weren't make-up? Did they notice the weight she'd lost?

I still saw beauty. The cut flower, vibrant and blooming –just don't think of the future, the withering-

Freeze that shit in time. I closed my ears to nothing but the soundtrack of screams and creaking doors, back-lit with the wailing of ghosts. Party guest voices blabbered over it all. We melted into the past. It was another party like the parties of years before. Slightly pathetic in that 'thirty-something's hanging out' kind of way. Laughing too loud. Secretly sizing each other up.

At least the lime green jello shots were good.

So yeah, it was just another lame party, and because of that, it wasn't. Because for a while...we were normal. Lucille laughed. I saw her smiling. Within her costume, she wasn't the Sick One. She was the mischievous witch, mingling with devils and cowboys and kitty cats.

Mrs Tillerman from school was there. She drank too much of that nasty Candy Corn atrocity. I caught her checking me out and I felt – for maybe the first time ever – ashamed. Other women looked at me too, making slightly-tipsy comments in my direction. I was glad Lucille was across the room, no doubt bored out of her mind listening to Ms Crouch talk about her fucking kids. And by kids, I mean her cats.

“Mmm, hello, He-Man. Nice sword. Remember that time after school?” Mrs Tillerman, winking and nudging.

“Sorry, He-Man has no fucking recollection of that.”

She'd sucked my dick once. Just once. That was really enough for me. I think I'd only allowed it because I could. Now, I saw what a fucking piece of trash I was. Hopefully, when she sobered up, she would too.

“You don't?” She took another swig from her solo cup and let out a burp. I quickly turned her in the direction of the bathroom. Just in time, because Lucille was drifting my way.

“Motherfuckin' crowd is getting drunk. There's probably going to be barf in the apple-bobbin' water. As if bobbing for apples isn't fucking gross enough.” I had to yell as The Addam's Family theme blasted from the speakers.

“Yeah.” She looked pale under the glitter.

“You had enough?”

I knew she had. We'd done it, we'd made our appearance, we'd given proof of life. I squeezed her hand, then found our host. I was tired, had papers to grade, been a great party...you know the bullshit, Tony.

-

We walked home silently. I wanted to ask how she was feeling. It was a lump in my throat. She'd probably just be annoyed. Say I was worrying too much. Say she was fine.

The warm glow of our porch washed over us. It sparkled the glitter on her cheeks, flushed pink from the cold. I wanted badly to kiss her. Instead, I fumbled in my He-Man boot for the house key.

Kids screamed and laughed on the street, swinging their bags of candy. It was just another Halloween in a long line of them, stretching out into our future. Maybe ten years from now, our kid would join the others.

Tomorrow, I wouldn't think like this. But tonight – fucking dammit, I was going to pretend we had years ahead of us.

I got the door open, got us in, shut it against the chill.

“Fuck. Don't know if that was worth going to. You have fun?”

The orange glow filtered in through the glass panel of our front door. Moonlight through the windows, silvering the interior. Everything was dark, but sharply edged with white. Lucille turned to face me. She discarded her witch's hat, the wig – no...her hair, looking real and soft and luscious, spilling onto her shoulders. She slowly drew one hand up my naked stomach and my skin shivered under the touch.

“He-Man,” she rasped. “I've put you under my spell.”

“Lucille...?”

“It's Lucianna. Maiden of the Night. And I've cast my spell upon you.”

I imagined she'd gotten that crap from those dumb novels she liked to read. The ones with guys who wished they were as hot as me on the cover. “Oh yeah? What spell is that?”

Her hand drifted under my loincloth. I let out a breath. Shit. I hadn't felt her touch me there for weeks.

“The spell of Lust. I'm irresistible to you.”

She didn't need a spell for that.

She rose to her tiptoes, her cold arms against my chest. “...Negan. Make love to me. “

“...but...Lucille...”

It's too strenuous for you. You'll be tired. I'm afraid I'll hurt you -

She didn't look tired. Her eyes were dark and wide, her skin sparkling. The chilled hands sliding under the plastic harness were strong and sure. Her lips hungrily pressed to my chin. “...Don't resist me, He-Man. Give me this night – a Halloween like we used to have.”

I fucking melted like the half-frozen rain under the burning Halloween moon. What could I do?

“By the power of Grayscale, I pull forth my sword, Lucianna!”

“That's Grayskull, He-man!” She laughed as I backed her to the couch, my hands fumbling at her corset. “Ooh, that's such a big sword you have. You sure you can lift that thing up?”

“Witch, I'm gonna impale you so fuckin' deep with my hard steel. You just fuckin' wait.”

“Oh, I'm waiting, but you still have your clothes on.”

Heh. Good thing He-Man was half-fucking-naked already. The witch was helpless to my brute strength as I lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.

-

To be honest, there wasn't anything rough or hard about it. Even on devil's night, I had to maintain some sense of restraint. My hands gently stroked ribs under frail skin, planted kisses onto delicate shoulders and licked along a ridge of collarbone. Lucianna, my withering flower, her beauty stretched across bones.

Her hands, digging hard into my shoulders, her legs, wrapping me like squeezing pythons – well, they felt anything but weak.

After, we lay breathing and nestled together. The light outside came and went, broken up by drifting clouds. Lucille's sharpened features were softened. Her wig was still on and still looked real as fuck – money well spent. Her eyes, half-lidded, were tired, but tired in a good fucking way.

“Not a bad fucking Halloween, huh, Lucy?”

“Pretty damn good fucking Halloween,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes, and I watched her, drowsing there in the dark. Her spell was slowly melting away; her magic could only veil the truth so long.

But for a few hours, reality shifted and wavered on the edge. She was alive, she was here, and we would spend our nights beside each other, just like this.

For just the brief span of our last Halloween night, I could have it. It was my reality.

And the reality was... that reality was fucking great.

#negan #comic negan #lucille #fanfic #fic #lup's writing #thanks for reading :)

[thelazywitchsblog]

So I'm rewatching the Twilight and I have some thoughts:

I actually want to stand in the sun with two cactuses without any judgy stares

Twilight has one of the best soundtracks and I love the shot over the mountains

You mean 3121 people now heh?

OMG WHERE'S THE TRUCK DRIVER?! I'm getting Kdrama Goblin vibes

Charlie is such an awkward bean I love it.

One bathroom.

WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY LAMPS BELLA?!

Purple is cool.

I actually want to watch a movie of Charlie's point of view.

Ouch Jacob...you okay?

Why did she park her truck like that?

OMG Eric's hair.

Same Bella same. We both suffer in silence.

I'm so glad we don't use the term "chillax" anymore.

Here's Matt.

Aaaaaaaand here comes Jessica.

She isn't even that funny Matt.

Okay that's embarrassing. She's the new girl. Give her some peace boys.

Aaaaaaaand here comes the Cullens.

Rosalie is hot.

I have a crush on Jasper. And Alice.

Hi Edward.

Why did Bella make that face? 😂😂😂😂😂

Wow Edward. Rude much?

What's that on Edward's wrist?

Don't glare at the new girl Edward.

Forgot to add that it's weird Jess called Bella's entry as "the shiny new toy" and Edward compares her to the same thing in Midnight Sun.

Whelan is creepy.

Wtf is "Butt-Crack Santa"? I want to know more.

Why is Emmett standing at the back of the truck?

That looks like a Hippie Van.

I like Bella's outfits.

That's the most awkward "Hello" in the history of greetings.

That was such a weird expression on Bella's face.

Carlisle is hot.

Charlie pulling the curtains shut is 😂😂😂😂😂

Of course Charlie will tell your mom. She's your parent.

Could you have that discussion somewhere else? For people who want to keep a secret, having a conversation about it in a hallway isn't the best way to go.

Why is Bella so pale?

"I hope you enjoy disappointment." So dramatic I might use this line.

Matt is so awkward. Everyone in this movie is awkward.

I love the biology teacher lol

"You don't even say hi to me." "Hi" Lol Edward is a troll 😂😂😂

The worm thing is the proper representation of "Boys being Boys"

I regret watching this movie.

Who styled Jasper's hair? Why is it so....curly and looking like a mop?

What did that food do to you Edward?

Eric saying "La Push" that way is hilarious.

So Edward caught that apple and it became the cover page.

Eric is like "What date?!" Like dude, chill.

"You caught that huh?" Jacob she was right there! Of course she heard that.

I'm already wishing for this movie to end.

I feel like I stepped into a badly written Abercrombie ad.

Why isn't James wearing a shirt?

Omg Bella could literally have that book delivered to her via Amazon but no.... Have to go to Port Angeles cause plot.

That is the greenest apple I have ever seen.

I love the dress Angela is wearing.

That is creepy and disgusting.

Why did I get creepy vibes from the bookstore owner?

This is every girls' worst nightmare.

Yeah kick him in the balls Bella.

Did Edward just growl?

I would've preferred if Edward had run those guys over with his car.

Angela is a good friend.

I don't like Jessica.

Omg what is that monstrosity on that waitress's head?

"Special diet" yeah right.

Edward looks so horrified that Bella touched his hand.

I like that they wore seatbelts.

Don't they examine dead bodies at the hospital? Why is Carlisle at the Police Station examining Whelan's body?

Bella making the connections

I want to read that book.

She lives in the Pacific Northwest so why is she looking for legends from Egypt?

Bella has a death wish. Talk to him in public with lots of witnesses around. Not in the middle of nowhere where he can kill you.

Make up companies will kill to have that kind of skin glitter.

"Skin of a killer" wow Edward dramatic much?

This is hilarious 😂😂😂😂😂

That poor tree

"It doesn't matter" Bella wtf?! He admitted to killing people and you say it doesn't matter....

The music tho 😍

Edward looks so scared

Again, the music * chefs kiss *

Okay this scene is beautiful but they're lying on damp grass! That has got to be uncomfortable.

Not to mention the bugs.

Also, the way Bella is lying is weird.

About three things I am absolutely positive: first, Edward is a stalker. Second, Bella is weird. And third, Bella is stupid and has a death wish.

WHY DIDN'T EDWARD GLITTER IN THIS SCENE?! AND WHY IS HE WEARING SUNGLASSES?

Esme looked like she was having an orgasm.

Why is Edward sitting like that?

Is that a British accent Edward?

I want to live in the Cullen's house. It's so beautiful.

I like Edward's shirt. Blue suits him.

So much cheese.

Emmett looks so excited. I want him as my big brother.

I love this scene 😂😂

"She already ate" omg Edward why you gotta be so awkward?

This is awkward.

Omg Alice's entry is so cringy.

Jasper stop staring 😂

I can totally understand Edward cringing like that.

"No bed?" WHY DO YOU WANT TO SEE HIS BED BELLA?

OMG KISS ALREADY

That was such an awkward turn

Dudes, please do not ever call your gf as "spider- monkey". That's a Ben 10 character. Not a cute nickname.

That's a beautiful view.

Did I mention this movie has beautiful music?

Can someone play this piano piece for me?

DOGGY!!!!!!!

Matt don't be a possessive piece of shit.

Hello Stephanie.

Matt is weird

I like Renée

That's creepy Edward. Who climbs into other people's houses and watches them sleep? Creeps do.

Why aren't you creeped out Bella?

Bella is horny.

Oh Charlie you have no idea how old he is.

That gun cocking 😂😂😂😂 Protective Dad more on

When I die someone scatter my ashes in the field they play baseball at.

Jasper 😍😍😍

Did Carlisle just say "nice kitty" to Rosalie? Weird.

Love the music.

What is this family's obsession with monkeys?! First "spider monkey" and now "monkey man"?! Wtf

Finally James has a shirt on!

Someone explain baseball to me.

Damn that breeze.

Them crouching and growling is hilarious to me for some reason.

Charlie is the best dad.

I feel bad for Charlie.

Charlie you poor baby 😭😭😭😭😭

Don't be a bitch Rosalie.

Oo he figured out he was tricked

I love Jasper and Alice. Especially Jasper.

It's a trick Bella. Don't believe him.

The Prologue.

I want to watch the Midnight Sun version of this.

Bella could've left a message for Alice or Jasper and James wouldn't have known.

You can see it in her face the moment she realized she was tricked.

My snarky ass would've gotten me killed sooner. "I took this from your house, hope you don't mind." "No of course not. Feel free to return it anytime you wish."

Pepper Spray on a Vampire. I give her points for trying.

James is a dramatic son of a b-i-tch.

I can't watch this. It's so cringy.

Edward what are you doing? Why is he arching like that?

Okay the entry of the others is good.

That was such a cringy line Carlisle. But whatever works.

Control yourself Alice.

I'm more invested in what's going on in the background then this.

Did Bella go crosseyed?

Control yourself Edward.

Did Robert sing this? I think he did.

I just realized that the colours in this movie is muted. No too bright colours unless necessary. It's visually pleasing in a way.

Bella is so clumsy that no one questions the story of her "accident".

If Phil is so worried why isn't he here at the hospital?

Edward's "sleeping" position is so weird. No normal human can sleep like that.

Edward has a problem of blaming himself for everything that happens to Bella. I mean, he's right but he shouldn't. Sometimes stuff happens but that doesn't mean it's someone's fault always.

The music 😍

The "sound" of that kiss was so....squelchy.

Edward and Charlie are so awkward with each other it's hilarious.

"You're perfect" and Charlie be like "really bro?"

Charlie be salty as hell to Edward and I wanna watch a movie where Charlie is hostile like this to Edward but is nice to Alice. It would be a great comedy movie.

Someone should sue the person who styled Taylor Laurent just for that wig alone.

OMG THAT'S VICTORIA!

Angela would've rocked that purple dress from earlier. She looks beautiful in this white (cream?) dress but that purple dress would've been better.

I love the gazebo and the lights set up that way. It's beautiful and romantic. Very visually pleasing.

The song 😍

Just bite her and get this over with. At least we wouldn't have four more movies and three more books about this.

Those sideburns lol.

Hello Victoria.

I love Victoria's bun but that swirl is...eh.

The song change tho....

Finally it's over. I'm debating whether I should rewatch the other movies or not.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight movies #movie commentary #bella cullen #bella swan #edward cullen #twilight is weird

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 19 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“I, uh, am I supposed to be scared?”

“Are you?”

“...only if I’m supposed to be.”

She laughed and held out her hand palm-up. “Hold on to me. Trust me, it helps.”

chapter 19: six weeks or so

When she saw Kristoff waiting for her by the car, she didn't so much embrace him as crash into him, flinging her suitcases aside to throw her arms around his waist and hold on tight.

He caught her with equal enthusiasm, pressing her so close to his chest she could feel his heartbeat thudding against her cheek.

"I missed you," she choked out, tears already welling over. 

"It's okay," he murmured, running a hand over her hair. "You're back now. I've got you."

"Russia is cold as fuck."

"Were you surprised?"

"No, I just-- fuck, it's good to be back in LA."

He chuckled and pulled back enough to get a glimpse at her face. "I take it you didn't sleep on the plane."

"Not even for a minute. I don't even remember what day it's supposed to be."

"February eighteenth. And it's Saturday, so you're stuck with me all day."

"Oh, thank god, I-- wait, you got up this early on a weekend to get me?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to to see you."

"Jesus. Are you like, real? Am I actually asleep now and dreaming this?"

He kissed her forehead and pulled back to open the trunk of his car. "No, this is real."

"God, I'm lucky," she said with a happy sigh, admiring the way his arms flexed as he heaved her suitcases into the trunk. "You're hot and you love me. And smart!"

"Did you sleep at all the last day or so?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully. "So the reunion sex has to wait til after I nap this time."

---

“Was it all bad?”

“No, there were some good moments. Like I did have one afternoon to go sightseeing with Honey. I tweeted those pictures, did you see?”

“Mhmm. You looked adorable in that big fur hat,” Kristoff said, leaning over to where she was perched on the edge of the counter to kiss her on the cheek.

“And Honey made it bearable, and the not-Hans people are mostly okay. Oh! And Katerina was lovely, that’s the little girl who plays Anastasia when she’s younger. They’re doing that whole first bit in Russian, and she didn’t really know much English, but she was so cute, look!”

She held up her phone to show him a picture of her grinning ear to ear as she knelt beside a little girl with bright blue eyes, waist-length red hair, and a missing front tooth; they looked so similar that for a moment he had an uncanny feeling that he was looking at a picture of a mother and daughter.

“Yeah, she’s adorable,” he said, unsure why there was suddenly a lump in his throat.

“And she was so sweet with the dog-- I told you they’re keeping that in, right, from the original one? Anyway, by the end they were inseparable. I could tell you would get along with her, too.”

He set down the spatula then and went over to kiss her properly, setting his hands on her waist and tugging her as close as he could without pulling her completely off the counter. She let out a little surprised laugh, though she met him with enthusiasm, and when he pulled away she asked breathlessly, “What was that for?”

“Just because.”

---

There was a loud thump, followed by a hissed, “Fuck, shit that hurt!”, and then another much louder thump followed by something so vulgar he felt himself blush just listening to it.

He sat up, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand. “Anna? What are you doing up? I thought you said you don’t have to film anything else.”

“I don’t. But I set up a meeting with Lena this morning to talk about options.”

“Oh.”

He wasn’t awake enough to deal with that kind of problem just yet, and so instead he switched the lamp on. “What did you drop?”

“I set my heels on top of the drawers so I would see them and remember to wear them. The tall ones that make me feel like a badass? And then, uh, I tried to get dressed in the dark and knocked one of them onto my foot, and it turns out those heels hurt when they land on you, and then I, uh, I tripped and ran into the dresser.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a bruise.”

“A massive one that Honey will get annoyed at me for. You wouldn’t believe how much concealer she’s wasted on me doing stupid shit.”

She finished putting her earrings in and clacked over to him, still in the heels. “Have fun at work today, baby, okay?”

“I’ll try. Depends on what shit Ryder pulls.”

She laughed at that and leaned down to kiss him. “Love you.”

“Love you back.”

And he was having fun at work, really, especially when he spent his lunch break playing fetch with the dogs who were staying in the kennels, but then his phone buzzed with a call from Anna.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s up?” he asked, hoping she couldn’t tell he was already worrying; she never called at work.

“Fuck! I’m so fucking pissed, I-- oh, hello, sorry, I skipped that part. Love you. Anyway, fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”

“So I like, told Lena how shitty Hans was, and that you and I had been talking about eventually going public, and she was all ‘well it’s really good for your reputation to be in the news this much’ and I was like ‘um but I don’t like being in the tabloids’ and she was like ‘but it’s good for your career so really I was thinking we could play this up’ even though I told her at the beginning I don’t want to encourage it, you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then she was annoyed at me, like ‘look at all your Twitter followers now’ and stuff and just like...fuck. Like I know she knows how to do this shit way better than me, but still. I told her no, by the way, still no playing into it. Which I would have done even if I didn’t know it bothers you because it bothers me, so don’t start feeling guilty.”

She knew him too well; he’d been getting ready to apologize already. “I won’t.”

“Well, then, she was like ‘the hype is going to die down til the trailer drops this summer if we don’t do something so next weekend I got you lined up for some talk show stuff, and Hans is doing SNL and surprise, you’ve got a cameo with him on that and also he’ll be on the talk shows too’ and just. I told her how much he sucks, you know? And that I really needed a break from traveling.”

“But this’ll be really good, Anna,” he said, making sure he was out of earshot of anyone who might overhear and put two and two together. “For your career and the movie. You gotta go.”

She sighed heavily. “I know. But like, I haven’t even gotten to see my sister in a month. And they’re probably gonna put me in a hotel with Hans, and he’ll try to come up with some excuse to come talk to me in my room--”

“Can I come with you?” Kristoff asked, surprising even himself. “I mean, if it’s for SNL, it’s on the weekend, right?”

There was a beat of silence, and then she replied, “Oh my god. Oh my god, would you really do that?”

“Um...go on a weekend trip with my girlfriend to a city I’ve never seen? Is that a question?”

“We’d have to leave Friday, though.”

“That’s fine. I get a day off each month, and I haven’t used any yet.”

“You’re telling me it’s March, and you’ve been stressed as fuck, and you still haven’t missed a day?”

“Um…”

“Okay, you’re definitely coming with me. And we’re doing touristy shit the whole time. Well, the whole time I’m not doing dumb interviews or whatever. Anyway, I just got to set. See you tonight?”

“Why did you say that like it’s a question? We live together.”

“I don’t know. Makes it feel more exciting that way, like we’re still in the exciting dating part and not basically already an old married couple.”

“It’s still exciting to me.”

“Aww, Kris,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re too cute. I can’t wait to actually be half of an old married couple with you.”

Unconsciously, his hand went to his pocket, where he was keeping the receipt from the jewelry store. He was picking it up after work today. “Me, either.”

---

“Do you think people can tell this is a wig?”

“No. I barely recognized you when you came out of the bathroom this morning.”

“Liar. But you’re sweet for saying so.”

He laughed and squeezed her hand. She was in the window seat, wearing a brunette wig cut into a bob, a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over it, and a pair of sunglasses for good measure, and still to be certain she went unrecognized, they had gone through security and boarding separately. Now they were seated in first class, and, mercifully Hans had beaten them there and already attracted all the attention to himself. Except for his own, of course; he had already made excuses to walk past their row twice before the plane had even taken off.

Kristoff heard the engines start up and cleared his throat. “Um. Is it too late to tell you I’ve never flown before?”

“Never? I knew that in high school, but I thought surely…”

“Nope. I, uh, am I supposed to be scared?”

“Are you?”

“...only if I’m supposed to be.”

She laughed and held out her hand palm-up. “Hold on to me. Trust me, it helps.”

He squeezed her hand and felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned and met Hans’s glittering green eyes across the aisle. For a moment they just stared at each other; then Hans smirked and returned his attention to his phone.

Kristoff turned to face the front again, grateful Anna’s attention was on the menu and thus that she’d missed the moment of tension. He had a funny feeling that wouldn’t be the only such moment this weekend.

---

“Yes, it’s been a dream come true,” she said with a grin. “I mean, getting to be a literal princess? What girl doesn’t want that?”

“It’s your second time wearing a crown. Do you think this movie will be as successful as Crowned on Christmas?”

“Oh, definitely. I mean, the number of amazing, talented people on set--”

And there was Hans’s goddamn hand on her knee again. “I agree,” he said, smoothly interrupting her. “It’s been such an amazing experience working with Anna.”

She crossed her legs, forcing his hand to fall away. At least it wasn’t on her shoulder again this time; that had taken her a whole minute and a half to shuffle out of. She caught the host’s eye in a silent plea for help, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“And the rumors about the two of you?”

Hans laughed. “It’s flattering, to be sure, to have my name linked with someone like our Anna here. But I like to keep some parts of my life private.”

“Me, too,” Anna said quickly, but Hans’s hand settled over her shoulders again all the same.

When she was finally, mercifully off the set and backstage again, she didn’t even bother with a makeup wipe before grabbing Kristoff’s hand and pulling him out the stage door, heading straight for the car that was waiting for them. Mercifully, no fans had come around back yet, and so she dropped his hand only long enough to get in the backseat.

Neither of them spoke until they were nearly to the hotel, and then she turned to him suddenly, her eyes fierce. “I fucking hate that guy.”

Kristoff only nodded, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

“And I’m gonna take an insanely hot shower until I like, burn away all of him from my skin.”

He nodded again and set his hand over hers, squeezing hard.

The silence resumed as they made their way upstairs, timing it so they wouldn’t be seen in the lobby together. She went first and was already stripped down, the shower heating up, when she heard the door click open. She stepped back out to greet Kristoff, but before she could even get out a hello he was there, his hands tangling in her hair as he kissed her, hard.

“Fuck,” she managed to gasp out, hands already scrabbling at his waistband as he nipped at her lower lip. “Kris, I--”

She trailed off into a gasp. He had already moved down to her neck, pressing kisses hard enough she wondered if he was trying to leave a mark. “I love you, Anna,” he said, his breath hot against her skin. 

“I love you, too. Only you,” she emphasized, and she felt him groan against her collarbone. “And I only want you to touch me.”

“Good. Because that’s how I’m planning on spending the rest of the night.”

---

It was too damn hot in the rehearsal room. She had to step out for a moment or she was going to puke up every bite of the room service they had ordered that morning, too lazy and exhausted after spending most of the night tangled in each other to bother even going two feet down the sidewalk for a bagel.

Hans raised an eyebrow as she stood. “You alright, Anna? We’re just about to be to the skit you’re in if you don’t mind waiting another minute for a break.”

She simpered at him, wishing she had the guts to tell him off then and there. “Be right back. Just need a piss.”

He blinked, affronted, but one of the women beside him snickered, which was enough to embolden her. She grabbed her purse from the back of her chair and marched off to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She really did need to pee, but after that she dug through the bag in search of a Tums. “Come on, you’re in here somewhere-- aha!” she exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out a foiled packet.

Her smile dropped immediately; it was just her birth control, but as she went to drop it back in something caught her eye. She did some mental math, and then did it again, and then pulled out her phone and looked at a calendar of the last month. No, she thought, panic already rising in her chest, there should only be five. Not six.

She flicked to another app on her phone, the little one with the stupid flower icon. Surely she had just misremembered, it had been the first week in Russia and it’d only been, what, five or six weeks--

Twelve days late.

---

By the fountain. The big one. The one she had sent him a Google Maps pin for. He had checked three times; this was the right place. And it was the right place, too, with the first of the season’s flowers blooming around it, and surprisingly few people, and the sun was gorgeous and warm and sparkling on the water, and seriously, there was so much green. When would he have a chance like this in California?

He kept taking the box out of his pocket and opening to double check it, just to make sure it was still there. It felt unreal somehow, even though he’d had it for the last two weeks, just waiting at the back of the sock drawer. 

He still couldn’t help but worry she wouldn’t like it, that it wouldn’t be enough for her. It was kind of small, really, not at all what you’d expect a rising starlet to wear. But he’d picked it out himself because he thought it was her style, and he’d paid for it all up front out of his savings, and he hoped that was enough to make up for its size. 

Which was ridiculous to even worry about, because this was Anna, and all she had ever wanted from him was himself, which was maybe even more ridiculous than that. 

He heard footsteps and quickly shoved the box back in his pocket, worried she might have caught a glimpse, but it was only an old man passing by and leaning on his cane who gave him a wink. “Good luck with that, kid,” the man said, and Kristoff offered him a weak smile and a nod.

And then there she was, radiant in the midafternoon light in a white sundress. He was struck suddenly by the thought of how she’d look coming down the aisle to him in something similar, and a smile broke out across his face, one that she didn’t return. In fact, as she drew closer, he realized that she looked exactly like she had on their trip to Disneyland after their third time in a row on Space Mountain.

“Kris,” she said the moment she came up to him, not even taking a moment to hug him, “I gotta tell you something.”

“Oh, uh--” He gulped. “I, uh, I kinda wanted to tell you something too. Or, er, ask you.”

“Oh-- oh! Oh, fuck! You go first, then.”

“Well-- I don’t know, it was supposed to be a surprise--”

“Do you want me to walk away and come back?”

“I...yeah, that, uh, that would be good.”

She did, and this time when she came over she was giving him a bright smile, her eyes already shining with emotion even before he got down on one knee. 

“Anna,” he said as she drew closer to him, “you’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. You’re the love of my life, and I know I kind of asked this before, but I want to ask it officially. Will you-- oh, fuck, baby, why are you crying so hard? Did I fuck it up?”

She let out a sob. “I think I’m pregnant.”

#HAHAHAHAHHA PLEASE DONT COME FOR MY THROAT #drtlp #my fics

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

let me have a dance with her

Bumbleby Week Day 1 - Atlas Ball

They haven’t had much time to talk after getting to Atlas, though Yang wonders if they even need words at this point. They’ve both felt it, the shifting of their relationship, inevitable and immense like the shifting of continental plates. One minute they were still mending, dancing around each other, the tension palpable. The next, they’ve watched Adam fall to his death, blood staining his shirt, and Blake is crying on her knees, and Yang’s arms are around her, and everything’s changed.

Or: It’s the worst party ever, but Yang and Blake still find each other.

Yang usually loves parties, but this has got to be the worst she’s ever been to.

Everything about it feels stifling - the crowd of people dressed in their fanciest clothes, the chatter of conversation, incessant and grating, the air, heavy with perfume and incense and candles and the sour smell of sweat underneath it all.

She’s standing near a glass door that leads out to the garden, eyes scanning the crowd. She has no trouble finding Ruby and Jaune hovering not too far from Ironwood, who’s busy talking with a group of high-ranking Atlas military personnel. It takes her a little more time, but eventually she spots the rest of her friends, all engaged in conversation with various guests.

(Weiss is talking to Winter, hands crossed in front of her, and if Yang didn’t know her as well as she does, she wouldn’t notice the way her knuckles have turned white, the fragile tautness of her back, like a bowstring ready to snap. Yang’s heart aches for her, but she doesn’t move. She knows Weiss can handle whatever this is, and she also knows Weiss will call for help if she needs it.)

She sighs and takes a sip of her drink - some sort of creamy cocktail she hates - while she looks around for potential targets. It’s their goal after all, the whole point of going to this stupid, terrible party in Atlas: gathering information, making people talk, looking for any trace of Salem’s influence, any indication of where the war will hit next.

Yang hasn’t done much of that, so far. People here are just so fucking delicate, so poised and polished - they make her feel inadequate, awkward, too big and too loud and too much, a goliath in a dust shop. So she drinks, and flexes the fingers of her metal hand, and eyes the crowd, and reflects on the fact that this is the first party she’s ever hated so much.

She loves parties where people are happy, that’s the thing. There’s a way to loose yourself in a party, with the music and the lights and alcohol and bodies pressed close together and the sound of laughter. Yang grew up in a quiet house, after Summer died. A loving house, certainly, built by her father who, despite losing so much, still found the strength to give his children a home. But a quiet house nonetheless, so filled with absence and ghosts that even the babbling of her little sister couldn’t drown out the grief.

So Yang is drawn to the noise and the fun and the fleeting joy of parties. And this one has none of it.

She tries to smile at an older woman wearing an extravagant hat with silver feathers - the woman ignores her pointedly. Yang rolls her eyes, takes another sip. On the right side of the room, Blake is standing beside a marble column, talking with a man sporting the most ridiculous mustache Yang’s ever seen. He’s a little taller than her, and leans his head down to say something close to her ear. Yang catches Blake’s eyes, and winks. Blake rolls her eyes, clearly bored out of her mind. Yang hides a snort of laughter in her cocktail. The man smiles, Blake smiles too, and says something that makes him laugh. She’s good at this, Yang thinks, with pride. The daughter of a diplomat, through and through. She will be a great leader, someday, when the war is over and they have a future to think of.

A future. Yang can’t imagine a future without Blake, and now there’s something tightening inside her stomach, something pressing, urgent. She wishes she could just grab Blake’s hand and leave, and talk about their future, maybe. They haven’t had much time to talk after getting to Atlas, though Yang wonders if they even need words at this point. They’ve both felt it, the shifting of their relationship, inevitable and immense like the shifting of continental plates. One minute they were still mending, dancing around each other, the tension palpable. The next, they’ve watched Adam fall to his death, blood staining his shirt, and Blake is crying on her knees, and Yang’s arms are around her, and everything’s changed.

Blake brings her cup to her lips. The crystal lamps hanging low make her look ethereal, almost, in her black and purple dress, like a character out of a fairy tale, an enchantress, a queen. She’s wearing a bow, and Yang wants nothing more than to tug it out and free her ears, thread her fingers in the silklike softness of Blake’s dark hair.

Someone bumps into her, shaking her out of her reverie. “Yang, we’re supposed to be mingling”, Nora whispers way too loud. Inexplicably, she’s managed to get ahold of a full platter of dainty little fishcakes. There’s a waiter looking baffled and kind of scared on the other side of the room - Yang has no idea what went down, but she winces in sympathy nonetheless. “Stop staring at Blake and go talk to people!”

She stuffs an entire cake in her mouth - Yang can’t help but be impressed - and winks. “Or, you know, go talk to her, and ask her for a dance, lovergirl!”

Nora punches Yang’s shoulder, hard enough that if Yang were anyone else she’d be left with a bruise, and saunters over to where Ren is politely listening to a couple of old men wearing monocles and, absurdly, powdered wigs.

Yang turns her eyes back to Blake, but she’s disappeared in the ever-moving crowd. She sighs, takes one last look at her sad half-empty cup, and decides she’s had enough. She leaves the cup on a nearby table, and slips through the glass door, into the garden.

Outside the air is cold and sharp, refreshingly clear. It smells crisp, of fresh snow and something minty. Yang takes a breath, feels her lungs ache a little, pleasantly so, and rolls her shoulders. She’s in a paved alleyway, surrounded by marble sculptures and trees covered in a thin layer of ice. The music still comes through the opened window, and without the rest of the party, Yang can finally appreciate the lilting melody. The band is playing a classical piece, an atlesian waltz, both beautiful and melancholic. She closes her eyes, savoring the moment.

A sudden noise makes her jolt. A little further up the alley, in the semi-darkness, there’s something…someone? Yang takes a step forward, muscles tensing instinctively. “Is someone there?”

She hears shuffling, light footsteps, and then she blinks, taken aback. It’s a group of children, hiding in the garden, hesitantly walking toward her. Five of them, all dressed in warm and practical clothes, though not fancy enough to look like they belong in the party. Two of them are Faunus, siblings probably, with nearly identical dog ears amid dark curls of hair. The oldest looking one, who must be around ten, maybe twelve, pushes the other kids behind him, protectively. He’s glaring at Yang with outright suspicion. Yang relaxes her whole body, drops her shoulders, opens her hands, makes herself look as harmless as possible.

“Hello,” she says, with a smile. “I’m Yang.”

“Hi!” a little girl replies, cheerfully, before the older boy shushes her. “You from the party?” he asks, still frowning.

Yang nods. “Wasn’t much fun, so I decided to come out here. Lucky I did, cause clearly I found the real party!”

She winks at the kids, and they relax, all at once. She knows she’s won them over, so she crouches down to their level, and they come closer, curiously eyeing her metal arm, her wild hair, the shiny material of her ball dress. Yang pokes at the little girl, who giggles, delighted by the attention.

“What are you guys doing out here?” she asks. One little boy with dog ears and curly hair points at the door she just came through, rubs his neck. “Mama said we can’t go in, but we wanna listen to the pretty music. Are we in trouble?”

She shakes her head. “No, you’re not in trouble. It is very beautiful music.”

The older boy extends a hand. “I’m Max. Our parents are all working tonight, in the kitchen and stuff, so we’re waiting for them to go home. But we snuck outside to hear the music.”

Yang shakes his hand, gravely. “That was a smart move. I did the same thing.”

Max grins, looking down at their joined hands. “Do you know how to dance the atlesian waltz?” Yang nods, amused by his excitement, now that he’s no longer scared of her. “Would you, huh, teach me?” he asks, a little shy.

She laughs. “Sure thing.” She stands up, pulling him towards her. The other kids scatter in a half-circle, wide-eyed and fascinated. “Okay, so first you need to face me and put your other hand on my shoulder.”

It’s a little awkward - Yang is so much taller than him - but they manage a semi-correct position. Yang taps his feet with her own to widen his stance, then places her hand on his waist. “Okay, now listen to the rhythm of the music - one two three, one two three. We’re gonna follow the rhythm. Look at my feet.”

She leads him through the steps, and they start dancing clumsily. He’s clinging hard at her dress, a little unsure, and the line of his shoulders is too stiff - he almost trips a few times. Yang stays gentle, guiding him back to the rhythm again and again every time he falters. It reminds her, weirdly, of teaching Ruby how to swim - the patient repetition.

Max is not a bad dancer, and when he’s mastered the steps, Yang tries something a little more challenging. The other kids clap and cheer as Yang twists and turns the two of them around, her golden dress flowing in the cold air. She’s so focused on the dance - and on not stepping on poor Max’s feet - that she doesn’t notice when the other kids stop cheering, until there’s a hand on Max’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Blake says, to Max, with a kind smile. “Would you let me have a dance with her?”.

The boy glances at Yang, steps back, and suddenly his little hand on Yang’s shoulder is replaced by Blake’s, suddenly Blake is standing in front of her, face to face, her hair glowing under the moonlight, eyes brighter than any star above.

Yang feels warm all over. She rests a hand on Blake’s waist, almost shyly, and grabs her other hand. Blake’s skin is soft under her fingers, and familiar. They lock eyes, and start moving with the music, twirling on the icy paved alleyway, feet perfectly in synch. The children are standing on the side, watching them with awe and delight - the little girl’s mouth opens comically wide. Yang smiles, soft.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks Blake, low as a whisper, before spinning her around and back in her arms.

“I was looking for you,” Blake says, simply. She smiles too. The music slows, and she presses herself against Yang, until their bodies melt into one, cheek to cheek, heart to heart. “I couldn’t handle the party anymore, I just wanted to be with you,” she murmurs into Yang’s ear.

Yang trails her hand until it rests on the curve of Blake’s lower back, metal arm circling around her waist. “Me too.”

“Are you okay?” The words are soft, but sincere, and there’s genuine concern in Blake’s eyes. Maybe she’s wondering what drove Yang outside the ballroom. Yang’s chest fills with affection and gratitude.

She brings her other hand up to cup the back of Blake’s neck, and now the dance looks more like a swaying hug. “I’m great. Except…”

“Yes?” Blake breathes out. Her own arms are tight around Yang, fingers digging a little into the bare skin of her shoulder blades.

“Except I really want to kiss you right now,” Yang murmurs. She feels Blake shivering under her hands, feels the way her breath stutters out of her lungs, and she’s not nervous, not at all. It feels right, and the moment is perfect - the two of them in an iced garden under the moonlight, having just escaped the rigidity of atlesian etiquette.

Blake leans away a little, so she can look up and into Yang’s eyes. Yang reads wonder on her face, but also something else, something unwavering, the tranquil strength of absolute certainty. So she lets Blake tugs her head a little lower, until their noses are touching, until Blake’s lips meet hers.

It’s the gentlest kiss, the brush of butterflies wings against one another, yet it’s powerful enough to shake mountains inside Yang’s heart. Her cheeks burn, every inch of her skin is tingling, down to her fingertips. Blake kisses her again, a little rougher this time, capturing her lower lip between her teeth for the briefest instant. Yang feels on the verge of falling. Maybe she already did.

But she hears a small gasp, from behind her, then a giggle, and a couple shushing sounds.

Right. “We have an audience,” Yang murmurs against Blake’s mouth.

Blake chuckles and lets go of her, taking a step back. “Maybe we should go back to this later, in private.” Her expression shifts to something hesitant, and she blushes, pretty pink. “I mean. If you want to?”

“Yeah,” Yang says, catching Blake’s hand in her own, squeezing once. “I’d like that.”

The little girl comes up to Blake, and tugs at the side of her dress. “Excuse me,” she says, very solemn and obviously imitating Blake from a few minutes ago. “Can I have the next dance?”

Blake smiles, before schooling her expression into seriousness. “It would be my honor.”

She hoists the child on her hip, and starts spinning, and Yang watches her, her heart beating steadily in her chest, sure, like she’s never been before, of what she feels and what she wants.

Blake and Yang spend the rest of the evening laughing and dancing with children and looking at each other, thinking of their first kiss under the stars, and of many more to come, and when it’s time to leave, Yang sighs, happily.

See, now that’s the kind of parties she loves.

#bumblebyweek #bmblebyweek #bumbleby #rwby #rwby fic #kudos to whoever figures out which scene from which movie inspired me for this btw

[winterknight1087]

Flower from the Fae (ch 18)

Chapter Title:  Pre-Party Mayhem and Discoveries

Summary: Virgil likes plants, but when he goes to investigate a plant his friend, Remy, tells him about, he doesn’t exactly check out the plant. Little does he know that the handsome man he meets there is a fairy who is about to challenge the world Virgil knows.

Word Count: 1416

Chapter Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, cursing, mention of killing/death, alcohol

Chapter Pairings: Minor: LAMP, Demus, Sleep/Picani

AO3 Link      My Writing

A/N: this is chapter 18, so read the first chapter here! 

Virgil wasn’t sure what happened when he went outside, but whatever did, he was grateful for it. The group paid and left the diner to walk over to Emile and Remy’s house, where most of the work for this party was already complete. Emile forced Remy into their room for a quick nap before the party while the rest of them finished what little was left.

“Can you guys hang these bats up? I want to walk through the haunted house and make sure that everything looks good.” He asked Logan, offering a bag of fake bats.

“Sure, no problem.” Logan peeked at one of the bats, wondering if humans actually thought these were scary.

Virgil went through the little haunted house, pleased that all the motion sensors and the mechanics that reset the props were functioning well. This was always his favorite part of the Halloween party. They put so much effort into it so that it ran seamlessly and it was always the talk of the party, in some way. While he couldn’t claim much about the mechanics (it was an old friend of Dee’s who took that challenge on), Virgil was always the one to do the artwork and that added something special to the haunted house.

With everything checked out, Virgil returned to the living room and froze. Did Patton just fly? But the sweet man was on the ground when Virgil blinked. All of the bats were hanging up now, but there wasn’t a stool in sight to help them. Logan was rambling off facts about bats as he recycled the bag.

Virgil managed to slip into the bathroom before the trio noticed him. Virgil’s breathing was running as he talked his mind away from what he saw. There’s no way Patton was flying. He just jumped! Yeah, he jumped and the wings reacted to the movement. There’s no way that Patton could… Magic isn’t real! Patton can’t fly! Those wings aren’t real. He just jumped and that was that. I’m not a witch.

He froze as that thought hit him full force. That was the issue he’s been struggling with. Gala had managed to get him to read about half that stack of papers out of curiosity and he couldn’t help but notice so many of them matched him. Magic isn’t real but he may be a witch. If Patton could actually fly…

No. He was just fooling himself. Magic is not real. Magic has never been real. Patton is not a fairy. He was not a witch. Magic was something from movies. Magic was sleight of hand tricks. Those random hot flashes followed by random actions from people were not connected. He’s just letting stress go to his head. Patton merely jumped and now Virgil is over-analyzing like he always did.

Virgil took a deep breath and left the bathroom. He went straight for the kitchen where Dee was finishing up some of the alcoholic beverages. Virgil didn’t even really think of what he was doing as he got himself a cup and filled it. Dee watched in surprise but didn’t stop him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, softly, once Virgil lowered the cup.

Biting his tongue, Virgil decided that he wasn’t going to worry Dee with meaningless fantasies. “Forgot about one of the things I set up. It popped up when I wasn’t expecting it. I’ll be fine.”

Dee gave him an unamused look, feeling every ounce of the lie for what it was. “Uh huh, sure. When you want to tell me the truth, I’ll be in the backyard, setting up the bar area.”

Virgil winced but didn’t say anything. Dee looked over the anxious man, wondering what’s gotten into him. Virgil rarely lied. He was an open book, which was probably how he got himself tangled with fairies. Yet, Dee couldn’t think of what there was to lie about right now. All the guy had been doing was working on the haunted house.

“You know we care about you. Whatever is eating at you, we won’t judge. I hope you know this, Virgil.” Dee said softly to him. “I won’t push, but you can come talk to me or Emile or Remy or even Remus about whatever. We may joke and make fun of each other, but if it matters to you, it matters to us.”

“I…I know, Dee.” He answered. “I… it’s just stupid and I know it’s stupid.”

Bar be damned, Virgil comes first, Dee thought, waving to the dining table. “If it’s worrying you, it’s not stupid, Virgil. I am willing to listen. I won’t judge or tell the others if you want.”

Virgil paused before slowly saying, “well… I… things keep… I’ve… but…”

“Just rip it off like a Band-Aid if that’ll help, Vee,” Dee suggested.

He gulped but answered. “I think I may…”

“WHICH OF YOU BITCHES CUT… REMUS, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Before Virgil or Dee could react, Remus was running through the kitchen with a fair chunk of Remy’s red wig. He was snickering as he escaped into the backyard, just before Remy appeared. The wig was cut off at weird angles and looked more like a nanny-gone-wild version of Crowley rather than the chill, lounging on a park bench Crowley Remy was going for.

They paused, noticing Dee’s murderous look and the vulnerable look in Virgil’s eyes, before saying. “Sorry, also, Dee, your husband is dead when I get my hands on him.”

With that, Remy was out the back door. The trio of fairies and Emile came into the kitchen, but there was no evidence of what just took place. Dee wanted nothing but to tell everyone to get lost, but he could feel Virgil’s mind lock-off whatever he’d been about to tell Dee. He waved at the door and watched as Emile went to check outside, where they could hear Remus screeching.

“Uh, are your friends always like that?” Roman asked Virgil, uncertainly.

“Always Remus,” he answered, offering an awkward grin. “The rest of us take turns dealing with his antics. He’s usually is calm when we give him weird things like edible glue or events where being weird is encouraged, but I guess he got bored.”

“Hmm,” Logan hummed before turning to the uncertain therapist. “Emile, I have a question for you, if you don’t mind my asking. I couldn’t help but notice the extensive amount of psychology books around. Are you a psychologist?”

Emile relaxed and smiled at him. “I do have a doctorate in psychology, but I am just a therapist.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Fascinating, would you mind if I ask some questions about your work? Virgil mentioned one of your atypical methods for him and I’d like to hear more about your methods.”

Emile nodded. “So long as you aren’t looking for personal advice, we can talk while finishing up the game section.”

“No advice. I just think the various sciences are fascinating.” Logan agreed, following the therapist down the hall.

“Well, we just lost our nerd,” Roman commented. “Hey, fanged fiend. What else needs doing?”

Dee looked over the Fae Prince. “You any good in a fight?”

Roman blinked. “I can hold my own. Why?”

“Go split up the sandman and rat,” Dee stated, picking up one of the drink dispensers. “Be careful of teeth.”

“From…which?”

“Both. Off you go.”

Roman didn’t look too sure but he followed Dee into the backyard, leaving Patton and Virgil in the kitchen. Patton was carefully watching Vee, as the poor boy went rigid at the word ‘sandman’ and has yet to relax. Patton tried reading Virgil’s face, but couldn’t pick out what he was thinking.

“Vee? Are you alright?”

“I…What? Oh… I…” Virgil was practically a fish out of water as he tried to string a coherent sentence together.

“Do you want a hug?” Patton offered, uncertainly.

Virgil paused for a moment before weakly nodding. Patton wrapped his arms around the shaking boy, barely keeping his wings from wrapping around him as well. It took another moment, but Virgil wrapped his arms around the other, trying to breathe. The necklace he was wearing seemed to burn, awkwardly trapped from where it swung under his armpit, but Virgil pushed it aside as his own warmth. Then he felt the twitch of muscles as the wings on Patton flittered, sending every worry Virgil had been struggling with straight to the front of his mind, realizing that it was true.

Patton was a fairy.

Next Chapter:

Taglist: @that-one-nb-kid, @hufflepuffxfox

#Flower from the Fae #lamp #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #deceit #remus #tw cursing #tw death mention #Sage writes

[artificialqueens]

(treat me nice) never let me go [branjie] 2/15 - pinkgrapefruit

chapter 2. first things first imma say all the words inside my head

previous chapter 1.

A/N - Hi! Welcome back to Pretty Woman branjie style - in chapter one we saw our leading ladies meet each other - who knows what they’ll get up to this time. Special thanks to Frey and Linda (Qtip) for always being my heros/betas/favourite people and Meggie for being my grammar hero Let me know what you think and Enjoy!

*

Vanessa is lying on the floor, eyes transfixed on the show on the screen, when Brooke’s phone goes off. She shoots the Canadian a glare, far too comfortable in the penthouse now to take anyone interrupting ‘The Office’, and to be honest, Brooke almost understands - almost. She’d put on the series to try and smooth over any tension from the bathroom incident and for the most part, it seems to be working, the Latina sprawled over the expensive rug, head propped up on her hands, and mini-bar snacks left forgotten as she laughs and awws at every movement on-screen. It’s Brookes favourite show and it makes her a little fluffy inside to know that Vanessa likes it too (not that anyone needs to know that, she is an ice queen, she cannot let that façade drop).

She has to pull her eyes away from the girl, as the man on the other end of the phone demand for her to read a case file that’s about sixty cases away from being important right now. She sighs, pulls herself into a more upright position and tries to mediate the call with snippets of information she’s sure any idiot could find if they read the file instead of asking her to do the work for them. 

“You okay?” Vanessa mouths, a difficult feat as she tries to chew a chocolate strawberry. Brooke finds it endearing and she nods tiredly, rolling her eyes as the man on the other end of the line yells about business numbers in Japan - she knows exactly what he’s talking about, but finds more joy in being a little bit difficult.

“You?” she mouths back, an eyebrow raised at how at home Vanessa has made herself. 

The girl smirks, “Carpet picnic,” she replies as if that answered the question. It didn’t.

The sigh of relief Brooke lets out when the call ends is audible, and it makes Vanessa giggle a little bit. She visibly relaxes into the armchair, lets the cushions absorb the leftover stress. 

“You want a drink?” the brunette chuckles as she watches the other woman rake a hand through her hair, flipping the parting until the blonde strands cascade over her left shoulder.

“I’m high on life, can’t you tell?”

*

Vanessa’s laughing and, god, if it isn’t the sweetest damn noise Brooke has heard in a while. She moves chairs to be a little closer, a soft smile on her face, as she watches the girl. Vanessa must feel her eyes and mutes the audio, looking at her with a tilted head. Brooke makes the mistake of poking her tongue out, letting it wet her lips, because suddenly they’re dry as a bone. 

The shorter girl pushes herself up from the carpet and crawls slowly towards the chair, holding onto the arms when the reaches it. She gently runs a hand up one of Brooke’s legs, the woman tensing at the feeling of cold hands on her warm flesh. She allows Vanessa to manoeuvre her, wonders where this is going, although she has a vague idea by the girl’s heavy-lidded eyes and quiet smile. The girl removes her skirt and bodysuit slowly, teasingly - allows Brooke to focus on every inch of skin for a second or two before another is unveiled. She’s good at her job, there’s no question about it. She’s wearing a matching red lace bra and panty set, and the way it hides a little too much, but still absolutely nothing starts to drive Brooke wild. 

Vanessa leans forward, breath warm and heavy on Brooke’s neck as she unbuttons the silk work shirt that the Canadian is oh so fond of. She feels the lace of the bra grazing her lower abdomen as the girl pauses.

“What do you want?”

“What do you do?”

“Everything.” She smiles seductively, places a small kiss on Brooke’s left breast before moving, so her face is an inch away from Brooke’s. “But I don’t kiss on the mouth.”

Brooke smiles - confident, not cocky. “Neither do I.”

As Vanessa leaves a trail of hot, lip-gloss kisses down her torso, Brooke leans back on the chair, relaxing into the feeling. She is good at her job.

*

Brooke showers to wash off the feeling of dread that encompassed her the second she realised that she’d paid for sex. She’s not ashamed, she doesn’t have anything against sex workers, not at all, she just hates that she paid for something with someone she actually likes. Maybe. She’s trying not to think too hard about the girl asleep in her bed - knows that this is a hole she really can’t afford to dig herself into right now.

After being pummeled with scalding water for twenty minutes, she decides she’s clean of her various sins and wraps herself in a fluffy hotel towel, letting her long, wet hair fall down her back. She’s just checking her phones when she notices a mop of blonde hair on a lamp. Brooke smiles to herself, clocking what’s happened with a quiet laugh. She paces around the corner to the bed, and her heart grows in size when she sees the short girl, curled up topless, surrounded by a halo of dark chocolate hair. The blonde suited her, the angled bob giving her face a more chiselled look, but this - it looks right. She looks younger and more innocent - gone is any power she may have held in the thigh highs and the wig - this is the real Vanessa.

Brooke clambers into bed as smoothly as she can, trying not to disturb the sleeping woman beside her. She flips, so she’s not facing her, and tries to fall asleep (definitely ignoring the way the smell of girl’s coconut shampoo fills her with a heavenly feeling).

*

Brooke’s taking a call when Vanessa wakes up. The blonde is sat at the table, body covered in a black silk robe, and hair cascading down her back. She’s got a coffee in one hand, a phone in the other, and her half of the table is covered in books, files, and the remnants of salmon, avocado and egg on toast left unfinished on a plate in front of her. 

“I’ll meet Shuga for dinner tonight, it’s fine,” she says, low and full of conviction.

“Brooke, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet her alone. It could go really wrong,” comes the voice down the line, he sounds vaguely worried, although anyone could tell that he’s not worried for Brooke. 

The Canadian makes a humming noise, sips her coffee and pauses for a second, a mock consideration.

“Well, you know, there’s always a possibility things are gonna go wrong. That’s why I enjoy this so much.” She purses her lips and waits for a response, which doesn’t seem to be coming.

“Oh, by the way, Ru, about your car.”

“Oh, god. What?” She chuckles at the reaction she gets, can imagine Ru’s fear over his precious car.

“It corners like it’s on rails.”

Ru promises to make the dinner plans as soon as Brooke promises not to go alone - it’s a deal that will benefit them both and they both know it.

Brooke’s call finishes just as the shorter girl walks around the corner, and she watches as the Canadian visibly changes from ’work Brooke’ to ‘relaxed Brooke.’ She watches the way her shoulders loosen up and she clings to her coffee with a little less aggression.

The blonde looks up, smiles a warm, comforting smile and gestures for her to sit down. 

“Brown?” she asks in reference to her hair, eyebrow raised comically.

Vanessa nods uncomfortably but is quickly put at ease by how soft the taller woman is acting. There’s something quietly powerful about this Brooke, and she feels privileged to be able to witness it.

Brooke once again gestures to the spread of food taking up the not-case-covered side of the table.

“Are you hungry? You must be. Why don’t you sit and have something to eat? I, uh, took the liberty of ordering everything on the menu. I didn’t know what you’d like.”

Brooke rambles uncontrollably and Vanessa finds it endearing as she sits down, grabbing a danish pastry. She takes a bite before emptying six sugar packets and a tub of creamer into the black coffee waiting for her. When she sips it, she looks up to see the taller woman with a slightly disgusted look and almost snorts into the drink. 

“Oh, she’s a black coffee girl?” teases Vanessa and Brooke just laughs, feels the bitter taste on her tongue melt into something sweeter.

“So, did you sleep well last night then, Brooke Lynn?” the girl questions, mouth half-full of dough and eyes full of mirth.

She smiles, wipes a drop of coffee from the edge of her cup, before making a face indicative of a little sleep - not enough to feel rested.

“You don’t sleep, you don’t do drugs, you don’t drink, you hardly eat.” Vanessa reels off - still with a joking tone. “What do you do, Brooke? ‘Cause I still ain’t sure.”

Brooke swivels in her seat to face the girl, eyes a little harder than they were a second ago and coffee left on the table. “I’m a corporate lawyer,” she answers, an air of finality in her words. Vanessa tilts her head quizzically.

“Which means…”

“I help companies buy other companies, mergers, finances, stocks - that shit.”

Whatever cloud took over the Canadian, it appears to leave when a cocky grin spreads across the Latina’s face. “I was right!” she exclaims, bouncing a little in her seat, and Brooke is inclined to attribute it to the ridiculous amount of sugar she’s piled into the coffee. 

“What kind of companies?” she asks after a short pause - choosing to pile more pastry into her mouth as Brooke sips on a protein shake the waiter brought in.

“Uh, I buy companies that are in financial difficulties.”

“If they have problems, you must get ‘em for a bargain, huh?”

Brooke didn’t expect her to be so interested - even her mother won’t listen to her talk about work at family dinners - speaking of, she should really call her. She adds it to her list of things to do, below ‘find this protein shake recipe’, but above ‘learn how to use twitter’. She almost feels bad, but she doesn’t.

“Well, the company I’m helping someone buy this week, I’m trying to get it for the bargain price of about one billion.”

Vanessa looks a little starstruck., “A billion dollars?” she asks, mouth opened in a mix of excitement and shock. She doesn’t quite understand how anything can be worth so much, never mind how the woman in front of her - looking awfully disarming at this point in time - could do that.

“Wow. You must be really smart, huh?”

Brooke chuckles in response, it’s warm and melodic, and reminds Vanessa of a Tampa beach. They both stand up, moving away from the table and Brooke walks into the bedroom. She half closes the door, and so Vanessa just waits outside - she doesn’t want to intrude.

“I only got through the eleventh grade,” she says, wistfully. “How far did you go in school?”

“All the way through, law school and everything.” It’s muffled, and then Brooke walks back out - wearing burgundy slacks, a crisp white button-down and a matching blazer. She has a tie dangling around her neck and curses lightly as she tries to fasten all the buttons.

“Your folks must be really proud, huh?” She watches as Brooke clamps up again, feels like she hit a nerve - knows she did. Brooke sighs and Vanessa moves on.

“So what do you do with the companies once you buy them?”

“I sell them.” She struggles with the tie and after redoing it twice, Vanessa beckons to her.

“Let me do it,” she requests, although they both know she’s not asking. “So you sell them,” she leads on, tries to distract herself from how close they are, how she can feel Brooke’s hot breath on the top of her head.

“Well, I - I don’t help sell the whole company; I break it up into pieces, and then sell that off - it’s worth more that way.”

“So it’s sort of like, um, stealing cars and selling ‘em for the parts, right?” She sticks her tongue out in concentration - remembers tying ties on her brothers back in Florida.

Brooke exhales a laugh, but it comes out a little more breathy than she would have liked. “Uhuh, but more legal,” she replies.

She pats the tie when it’s done, a strange look of adoration in her eyes. Brooke smiles - she wants to ask where Vanessa learned to do that - it’s fascinating to her how multifaceted this girl is. 

“Mind if I take a swim in your tub before I go?” she asks, hopeful - and who’s Brooke to deny that?

“Stay in the shallow end,” she banters back before slipping on her heels and running to her now ringing phone. Ru’s on the other end and she curses herself for getting so caught up in, in - she catches herself before she can think of an end to that thought. She answers the phone.

“Hello? Look, Ru, I’m just running out the door.”

“I just wanted to let you know, Shuga is all set for tonight.” Brooke lets out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding, but immediately regrets it.

“She’s bringing her protegee, the one she’s grooming to take over.”

“Ah, yes,” She knows who Ru is talking about - can’t tell if she’s happy or scared by the information. “Very intense young woman named Yvie. She plays polo.”

“Look, I gotta say this again. I don’t like you goin’ alone,” reminds Ru, the tone is a warning, but the sentiment is more concern. Brooke would be grateful if she really cared what he thought, if his words didn’t feel a little like paper cuts rather than constructive notes.

Brooke ponders this for a second, unsure of the path to take. She wants to tell him she’ll be fine on her own - because she would be, her mama didn’t raise someone who was scared of a woman who plays polo - but she understands that strategy dictates she take backup. You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight, and Yvie is a gun ready to go off. 

In the midst of this, she hears a woman’s voice, softly (but very enthusiastically) singing. It’s coming from the bathroom, and whilst conceding to Ru over the phone, she moves to stand in the doorway. Vanessa is having the time of her life in the bath - eyes closed like she’s in a spa or on a beach somewhere - Brooke assumes she probably thinks she is. The song becomes more obvious as she reaches the chorus and begins to sing (if you can call that singing) Janelle Monae at the top of her lungs. 

It’s like I’m powerful with a little bit of tender

An emotional, sexual bender

Brooke has to stop herself from bursting into laughter down the phone, as her boss witters on about procedures and other things that she’s memorised way before now. She’s too focused on the brunette in her bath to really give a damn.

“Who is that?” asks Ru down the line, and it takes Brooke a heck of a lot of restraint not to say anything incriminating. 

“My waiter is singing,” she replies, hopes he can’t tell how she’s smiling.

That’s just the way you make me feel

“Look, Ru - I know a lot of nice girls,” she says, looking straight at Vanessa, who still hasn’t noticed she’s not alone.

“No, you don’t.”

She sighs, runs a hand through her hair that she’d left out of a restrictive bun today.

“You just concentrate on finding out what Cain is up to. I’m on my way.” She hangs up.

Moving back over towards the shorter girl, she taps on her shoulder (the one not submerged in enough bubbles to entertain an entire kindergarten).

“That’s just the way - “ Vanessa stops with a start, slowly removes the headphones from her ears and tries to regain any of the dignity she’s just lost. “Don’t you just love Monae,” she quips.

“More than life itself,” Brooke deadpans back, pulling over a chair, so she doesn’t have to kneel in the trousers she’s wearing.

“Don’t you knock?”

“Vanessa,” Brooke starts - calm and coolly confident. “I have a business proposition for you.”

The girl sits up in her bath, bubbles barely conserving her modesty, and Brooke feels like she’s invading some sort of privacy, even though the girl made her forget her own name with just her mouth last night.

“I’m going to be in town until Sunday, and I’d like you to spend the week with me.” 

There is no wobble in her voice that suggests uncertainty, she is collected and knows what she’s doing - this is Lawyer Brooke, there is no doubt.

“Really?” The other girl squeals in excitement and the blonde laughs with her.

“Yes, I’d like to hire you as an employee, would you - would you consider spending the week with me?” She laughs again to try and hide some of the awkwardness she is feeling. “I will pay you to be at my beck and call.”

“Look, I’d love to be your ‘beck and call girl’.” Vanessa smirks as she teases. “But you’re a rich, good-lookin’ gal, I’m sure you could get a million girls free.”

“I want a professional,” she replies simply. “I don’t need any romantic hassles this week.”

“If you’re talkin’ 24 hours a day, it’s gonna cost you,” the brunette bites back (there’s no sharpness behind it).

“Oh, yes, of course!”

“All right, here we go.”

“Give me a ballpark figure. How much?” Brooke would pay anything - money isn’t an issue here, but she likes the dynamic they have going. 

 “Six full nights, days too. - Four thousand.”

The Canadian raises an eyebrow at her boldness, she’s impressed, but she’d rather not show it. “Three hundred times six is eighteen hundred.”

“Well, you want days too.”

“Two thousand,” she raises.

“Three thousand.” Brooke gives in there, they could continue all day, but there’s no real point.

“Done.”

“Holy shit!” Vanessa exclaims, smiling at her like she hung the stars in the sky - she lets out a loud whoop before sinking under the bubbles. The other woman just laughs.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #fluff #pretty woman #pinkgrapefruit #concrit welcome #submission #treat me nice

[outerspaceot4]

Request for spooky!sos! Could you do one based of when there was the whole clown situation a few years ago? Like you’re out somewhere and you see a clown and you’re not scared but the guy is? (Preferably with Cal or Luke, you pick) 💗💗

“A real gentleman would give me his jacket!” You joke tipsily as you bump your boyfriend’s shoulder with your own.

“Well a smart person like yourself would have worn their own jacket, it is October!” Calum chuckles, but he slides off his leather jacket anyway. He’s always been a sap for you and it’s hard not to take advantage of that sometimes. He holds it open for you before wrapping it around your bare shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug.

You giggle into his chest, savouring his warmth. “Well I thought I’d be too drunk to feel the cold after the party!” You shrug cheekily. “I guess Ashton’s gatherings aren’t what they used to be, huh?”

Calum laughs, “that’s because he doesn’t have me to help plan them anymore!” He rubs your back gently to help warm you. “You’ve stolen me away and my buddy’s reputation as the king of parties is suffering!”

You roll your eyes fondly before pecking a kiss to Calum’s lips and nestling beneath his arm as you continue walking. “He can have you back any time!” You chortle. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy washing your dirty boxers more than I do!”

Calum scoffs. “You love me and my dirty boxers…”

You open your mouth to argue but your words are lost behind a creepy sounding laugh as a blurry figure jumps out of an alleyway just ahead. The sudden noise and movement of the new arrival makes you jump but it’s nothing compared to the startled screech that escapes Calum. It’s hard not to laugh at him as he freezes beside you, holding you even closer than before. “Fucking hell, Calum!” You groan. “You big wuss, you almost deafened me.”

Calum’s gaze is still transfixed on the figure ahead of you. In the fuzzy light of the street lamp overhead, it’s clear now that the person standing in your path is dressed as what’s clearly meant to be a scary clown. They’re wearing a wig of matted orange curls which stick up every which way. What you can see of their face is covered by a white mask and you can just make out the outline of pointy plastic teeth and a red bulbous nose. Their baggy, multicoloured clothes are tatty and splattered with fake blood. You find the whole thing more irritating than scary, you’re tipsy and tired and you just wanna get home. “Ohhh you’ve put a lot of effort into your terrifying costume!” You say loudly with a sarcastic undertone.

“Babe!” Calum squeaks. “Don’t anger it!” He cowers slightly, looking and sounding pretty comical.

Calum’s a 6 foot something guy with a perfect gym body, huge muscles and a strong frame. He could easily intimidate and tackle most people if he needed to, yet here he is practically cowering behind you because of some dork in a (frankly half-assed) clown costume.

“Are you serious?” You chuckle. “You’re scared of this, idiot?” You point vaguely in the direction of the clown.

Calum shuffles nervously beside you. “Clowns freak me the fuck out, babe!” He whispers.

Despite the fear in his eyes, Calum looks pretty fucking cute. “If I get rid of this asshole, does that mean I’m your hero?” You smirk, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Calum nods, dropping his arm from your shoulders so that he can hold your hand. You notice that he’s shaking slightly and you’re not entirely convinced it’s just because he’s cold. You turn your attention back to the clown with an air of confidence. “Are you done? Can you move the fuck out of our way now, please?” You ask, ensuring that your tone conveys just how done with this shit you are.

The clown laughs in that creepy way again but doesn’t move. You roll your eyes at him. “Move along, Pennywise, I need to get my chicken shit boyfriend home before he pees his pants.”

Calum makes a disapproving sound next to you but it quickly turns into another terrified screech as the clown breaks into a run, heading straight for you. Calum is positively trembling next to you as the dumbass in the costume runs past the two of you, his old trainers thudding along the pavement loudly in the otherwise silent street. Once he’s been swallowed up the darkness, you look back at Calum and wrap your arm around his waist. “Did the naughty clown scare my little baby?” You ask in a tone that most people would use to speak to a small child.

“Fuck off…” Calum huffs, draping his arm over your shoulder again. He’s still trembling and you feel a little bad for making fun of him. “Next time there’s a spider in our house, I’m not gonna catch it for you.” He threatens, somewhat halfheartedly.

You laugh openly at his mediocre threat. “Fine, but only my favourite spider catcher gets blowjobs from me so…”

Send us your spooky!sos requests

#i hope this is okay! #thank you for the request lovely! #spooky!sos #calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #5sos #babylon-lrh #L writes #calum imagine #calum fic #calum blurb #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb

[justbitthedust]

Never Too Late [Chpt. 2]

A/N: So over on my poll, people voted for me to get the next chapter for this and Welcome To Gotham out before I posted the 1k+ Celebration fics, so I worked on this update, then comes WTG Chpt. 3, then comes the 1k+ Celebration fics!

I hope this was worth the wait!

Warnings: Jason’s mouth.

Pairings: None.

Jason stretched, popping his back, and shook his arms out after. Patrol tonight had been mercifully slow after that major gang bust two nights ago, and he was content with enjoying the calm before the proverbial storm started back up again. The entire patrol had been peacefully silent, his comm muted, save the Bat chatter in his ear. As far as he knew Barbara was off on a vacation with the Birds, which was why she hadn’t kicked him off the frequency. She, to put it mildly, was not a remote fan of Jason’s. He didn’t care. It wasn’t a loss; Barbara had made her dislike for him known even when he’d been Robin. Yeah, it’d hurt back then, but at this point he was used to it. They’d never really had any sort of relationship—as friends or otherwise—so nothing was really lost.

He yawned, shifting to stand as he started contemplating whether or not he could make a quick stop by that Thai place by his safehouse when a certain bird’s chatter was addressed to him. Jason groaned, his head leaning backwards. In his ear, the bird wouldn’t shut up, even with the lack of response.

“Hooooood. Red Hood. Heyyyy, Little Wiiiing. C’mon, Hood, we know you’re probably there. Maybe. There’s the chance.”

Jason didn’t answer. Instead, he stubbornly shook his head—though nobody could see it—and marched off for the Thai place.

In complete honesty, he was in a good mood because of the slow patrol. So he was thinking about answering even as he heard another, smaller, bird chirp back at the older one angrily. Then a certain bat got into it, and his ears processed it as a bunch of screeching, chirping, and growls that were starting to give him a headache.

Suddenly, he realized that there was another little bird who hadn’t make a peep the entire patrol, and he wanted to hit himself with something. How hadn’t he noticed sooner? It’d been a slow night—nothing to distract his mind, except for thoughts about turning it in early.

…okay he was trying to think, right now, and the noises in his ear weren’t fucking helping, at all.

Before he could think about the decision he was about to make, Jason turned his comm on.

“Can you guys shut up for one fucking minute? I can’t hear myself think!”

Fuck.

“LITTLE WING! I knew you were there! See, Robin?”

“You have only proven that Red Hood is someone who cannot be trusted to keep to his own business without Oracle forcing him to do so.”

Jason snorted. “Fuck you, half-pint.”

“Language, Hood.”

“English, thanks no thanks you ugly-ass furry.”

He was surprised when Dick didn’t try to comment on the profanities and instead asked if he was done with patrol yet.

A brow raising—that literally nobody would have or did notice—Jason answered skeptically.

“Yeah… Why? What’re you going to ask me for?” He scoffed. “If you want to know my kill count for the day, it’s a whopping zero, same as it’s been every day for three months straight.”

He was trying, okay?

“No, no! I wasn’t saying anything like that—I wanted to know if you could check up on the other Red for us. He couldn’t patrol today because he pulled a muscle in his shoulder pretty bad two days ago. He’s been pretty upset about it, actually, because B won’t let him work on any of his cases.”

“What did you want me to do, let him use his shoulder maneuvering the machinery?”

“Yes, father, for then he would have further delayed his recovery and we would be spared his irritating and unnecessary presence at least whilst on patrol. I find it a satisfactory choice of yours to allow him to spend the duration of his recovery in his own apartment.”

“Robin…”

Dick’s sigh carried surprisingly well and Jason grinned a little. Little brat was really wearing on the all-patient Grayson, huh? Not his problem.

“So,” he interrupted before any of the others could start an argument or lecture, “you want me to make sure the baby bird isn’t messing with his injury and doing work.”

“That is a gross simplification.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Shut up, bat-brat.”

“Yeah, basically!” Dick abruptly piped in before Damian could start cursing Jason out. “Would you mind?”

Pretending to think long and hard about it, Jason waited about three minutes before shrugging. He’d made up his mind when he noticed Tim wasn’t on patrol. He figured the annoying urge to make sure the kid was okay was just something left over from last month when he’d let Dick crash at his place and actually fucking rest for once in his damn life.

Jason always heard them prattling on about getting proper rest and taking good care of their bodies to Tim, but they’re all hypocrites. Bruce didn’t sleep; Jason was convinced of that now. Bruce had been Batman so long that he’d actually become a vampire, like the idiot thugs always whispered about whenever Halloween rolled around. Dick had the tendency to overwork and stress himself and his body. He always took on more than any human being could handle and was ridiculously hard on himself if he didn’t accomplish them all perfectly. It was annoying.

For them to go and tell Tim off about not getting enough sleep was such bullshit from them. At least Jason took better care of himself than they did—hell, Damian probably did too.

“I’ll do the solid, but you owe me one.”

“Awesome! Thanks, Hood!”

He’d been just about to crack a sarcastic response when Bruce spoke up and made his thoughts—and body, which was already heading in the general direction Tim’s apartment was—screech to a sudden halt, making him trip and nearly fall.

“…thank you, Red Hood. I appreciate it.”

Damian’s immediate squawk of alarm and cry of “Father!?” registered through the sudden rush in Jason’s head and he blinked twice before clearing his throat, yanking his thoughts back by the scruff of their proverbial necks, and replying.

“I, uh. No problem B.” Quickly he tacked on, “I’m not doing it for you, though.”

Then he was shaking his head—the sarcastic comment of that was traumatic popping into mind—and resuming his quest for Tim’s surprisingly comfortable apartment, muting his mic again as the birds started talking.

Getting to Tim’s apartment was pretty quick. Jason was crouched by a pretty big window—really Tim? Human-sized windows for an apartment in Gotham?—as he contemplated either knocking on the window or just cutting all the alarms and helping himself inside.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled as he started pulling out his stuff. Disarming security measures it was.

Tim was ridiculously paranoid or something. It took Jason five minutes to get everything, and even then he couldn’t rely on the scanner in his helmet because Tim knew about those, so he had to find the rest by eyeballing it and asking the classic, ‘If I were Tim’ question.

Only when he was sure the measures were all disabled did Jason crack the window a little and promptly exhale in relief when no lasers appeared to detach his hands from his body. What? Jason didn’t know what the things he’d taken apart did, he knew how to keep them from doing those things.

“Yo, Timbit!”

Jason looked around once he was inside, having removed the helmet, and a scowl etched onto his face when he flicked the lights on. God, the kid lived like his home was a garbage disposal. It was disgusting. Alfred would have a heart attack…

Where even was Tim? The place was moderately-sized and Jason knew for a fact that his voice carried well.

“Tiiim. Timber. Timmy. Timothy. Timmy bird. Timberly. Kid. Timothy Jackson Drake. Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Young emancipated adult who lives in bio-hazardous waste.”

Nothing.

Jason’s scowl deepened as he started walking to the bedroom, the only place where Tim had better be fucking sleeping, because if he wasn’t, there would be consequences. Jason would snitch to Dick who would immediately dive into panicky mother-hen mode and not leave Tim alone for more than a minute. No way was Jason above that. If he found out Tim was still doing work while he should be recovering…

Alfred was always an option, too, but Jason would pick up a little—a lot—to prevent any premature death by aneurysm.

Gently opening the door, Jason poked his head inside the room and waited for his eyes to adjust to the low lighting. There was a small lamp on the nightstand beside the bed, the warm orange-y glow softening the room, and it helped Jason make out a sleeping figure on the bed.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, because he knew about the pillow and wig tricks—had pulled it once or twice with Bruce—Jason walked over silently, crouching beside the messy mop of hair and tilting his head a little as he shifted some of the hair. Tim’s sleeping face came into sight and Jason calmed down, satisfied.

He stood, gently carding a hand through his little brother’s hair on some weird instinct, and didn’t have to make sure Tim was sleeping on the good arm. If he were on the bad arm, there wouldn’t be a bulge where his shoulder was poking visibly from under the blanket.

Silent as he’d been when he’d entered, and feeling a little bad for being so loud calling Tim’s name, Jason moved to exit the room.

Or, well, he tired to make himself get out, because all the trash and clothes everywhere was seriously bothering him. Did Tim not know how to do laundry or maneuver a broom? Christ.

With a deep and silent sigh, Jason gave up controlling his urge to at least pick up, and bent down to start collecting clothes in his arms. Once he’d gotten it all and dumped it in a pile on the floor of the main room—after he’d cleared a space to dump it in—Jason hunted down a broom and dustpan to set to work sweeping Tim’s room up. He ended out taking a trash bag into the room too, because he had no idea what the hell half of the rancid-smelling stuff in the room was, and opted to just dump it in the bag and toss it out with everything else.

There were no words to describe how Jason felt once Tim’s room was clean. He still had to wash the sheets and stuff, but Tim was using them and Jason didn’t want to wake the kid. Instead, he took out his phone, checked the time, then texted Dick.

Game-over: Tim’s asleep.

Game-over: His laptop and stuff is still in the main room, but it doesn’t look like he’s used it.

Game-over: Did you know he lived messier than you?

Messages sent, Jason sighed and went to go clean the rest of Tim’s apartment. It was something he could do to help, and he was already thinking about helping the teen out on some of his casework. Jason really doubted he’d be getting any sleep tonight, as he finished filling a second black bag of trash and moved on to the third.

His phone buzzed and Jason checked the notifications.

Dickaster: He is?! You didn’t do anything to his drink or something?!

Jason scoffed.

Game-over: Fuck you. No I didn’t drug him. He was passed out when I got here.

Dickaster: wow.

Dickaster: Thanks for checking up on him, Jason.

Game-over: Just remember you owe me.

Dickaster: ;)

Conversation ended, Jason turned some music on quietly and went back to cleaning.

Three hours later it was four in the morning and Jason was finishing up, wiping down the last dish, because dishwashers were just a waste of water and time since they never really cleaned the dishes their entire purpose was to clean. Jason would die before he used a dishwasher.

Yawning when he’d put the plate on the drying rack, he stretched a little and sighed, plopping down on the recently-cleaned couch.

Propping his head up on his fist, and resting his elbow on the arm rest, Jason closed his eyes. He’d sit, just for a little.

Fuck. He’d earned the damn rest.

Jason woke up with a jolt, shooting up and off the couch before he got his bearings.

Where the fuck am I and why am I here?

His head whipped around and he calmed when re recognized Tim’s recently-cleaned apartment. Huh. Jason had forgotten about that.

Lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, Jason’s hand touched the domino instead and he groaned. Damn it, he’d slept with it on. Taking the fucking domino off now would be a bitch.

As he walked to the kitchen to make some breakfast, Jason didn’t think about the possibility of Tim not having anything inside of his refrigerator except for milk and—are those fucking goldfish.

He stood there, looking into the fridge, stunned, for about five minutes before he was grabbing an over-sized jacket that was probably Dick’s from the clothes he’d folded and washed, throwing it on over his armor to hide the red bat, and walking to the nearest supermarket to do groceries.

Were they going to need to hire a caretaker for Tim? The kid couldn’t seem to be able to take care of himself for shit.

The grocery run was quick and Jason regretted not swiping Tim’s car keys as he made his way back to the kid’s apartment with bags both dangling from and in his arms, as he also plotted.

Maybe they could get that Fox girl—the fuck was her name again? Sam? Pam? Tam? Tam. Tam sounded right—to at least check up on his little brother. Tim had told him about her, and Jason had sensed feelings that went past ‘just friends’. It would be good for him.

Once he was back at the apartment, Jason dialed Dick’s number—it was only six in the morning and Dick had probably gone to sleep around three, but three hours was fine since Jason knew Dick would go right back to sleep after the call—and waited for his older brother to answer as he started putting groceries away.

“H’llo?”

Yep. Dick was just waking up.

Pausing to word it just so it would spark Dick’s curiosity, Jason said, “Wake the fuck up, Dickface. I need to scheme with you,” and waited for it to work.

It worked.

“Scheme? What kind of scheme, and what are we scheming about?”

Grinning, Jason explained his master plan to help Tim get both his shit together and the girl. Dick laughed by the end of it, and agreed to help, saying he’d talk to Bruce about it later in the day. The call ended with Jason wondering what the fuck he was doing setting Tim up and making him breakfast.

What. The. Fuck.

His time to wonder where it all started turning into this ran out when he heard sounds from the bedroom. Jason quickly served up a plate, filled two cups of coffee from the pot he’d started, and slipped out the apartment from where he’d entered.

The alarms and traps were re-enabled faster than they’d been disarmed and Jason was gone by the time Tim made it to his kitchen.

Tags: @mizmahlia @boosyboo9206 @an-all-write-life @lovelywally-deactivated20181210 @avengerdragoness @crazyfreckledginger @red-balistic @solis200213 @emmadevr @tomscaprisun @whambamthanksbatfam @queen-fighter @jaybird-rednerd @shirokokuro @aaren-27 @osejn

#nxttime writes #my writing #my fanfiction #my work #fanfiction #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Batbro bonding

[alien-ct]

{Mafia AU / Yukhei}

Requested By: Anon 

By: Admin Zar  

Cigs are wack, don’t use them! I just used it for this scenario hehe

Mafia’s weren’t foreign to you 

You were used to the drugs drug deals, men threatening each other with guns and the negotiations 

You worked in a club called Leona’s, named after the owner’s late wife

Your best friend’s father, who just so happened to be the godfather of one of the most feared mafia’s, was the one who owned the place 

And although working there definitely had it’s dangers, you were under the protection of the mafia  

That was one of it’s perks, and the tips from the men that visit the lounge 

You worked as one of the main showgirls at the club, singing and dancing

Sometimes you put on performances like those when you wear a black fitted dress with curled hair and red lipstick 

A single light cast on you, and a single mic where you would sing soft, sultry songs, making the audience feel as though you cast a spell upon them 

And others were more burlesque like with sexy, flashy outfits, cute wigs, back up dancers  

Both with a live band 

Your first performance was “A Guy What Takes His Time” 

You sang atop of piano, in a sexy, bead outfit with backup dancers (performance here)  

As you performed you noticed a new guy in the club 

He had light brown hair, with his roots starting to show at his scalp, big doe-like eyes and full lips 

He watched you with concentration, biting down on his bottom lip 

At the end of your performance, you made sure to blow a kiss in his direction  

As you crowed cheered you smiled at waved at the audience and made your way backstage 

Behind the curtain was a backup dancer and the stage director waiting for you with a silk, slip dress for you to put on  

“You did amazing as usual, honey” the stage director spoke, turning his back as you changed, since at the end of the performance you were actually naked, hiding parts of your body behind a lamp 

“Thanks, Jeff!” You spoke in a sweet tone, tapping him on his shoulder for him to turn back around, after you finished changing 

“Now go out there, and collect your tips and have a drink.” 

“You got it!” you spoke with a wink 

As you walked out into the lounge are, you got a second applauding and you bowed to everyone 

As you made your way to the bar, you got your collections of tips and complements from the crowd 

And you gratefully accepted each and every one of them   

Once you reached the bar you spoke to the bartender with a smile “old fashioned, please” 

Looking to your left, there was the guy from the crowd earlier, now holding a cigarette in his right hand  

“You put on a good show. Now tell me, what’s a pretty one like you working in a place like this?” 

“Just tell me who you’re looking for, and i’ll point you in the directions of em”  

“I don’t know what you’re-” 

“I work for one of the biggest mob bosses out here. I can recognize someone like you from a mile away. Who are you looking for? The Godfather? A Capo?” 

“Neither, just came for some entertainment” 

“Mhm?” You spoke in a skeptical voice, your drink was then given to you and you got up from your seat, taking the seat with you 

As you walked away, you stopped and looked back at him, “Maybe I’ll see you next week” 

And that’s how it went on for the next two weeks 

He was there every Saturday. He watched you perform then meet you at the bar. One day he even ordered your drink for you, you learned that his name was Yukhei, he also went by Lucas or Xuxi

“I can tell you’re trying to gather information about someone” 

“What makes you think that, doll?” 

“You’re not discreet” you spoke before leaving, taking your drink with you 

The next Saturday, you didn’t see him in the crowd   

After your performance, you wee called into the grandfather’s office 

When you walked in, there you saw Yukhei seated on the other side of the grandfather’s desk 

“Y/N, please sit down” 

You did as you were told and took the seat next to Yukhei, there were two other guys that stood opposite of the godfather

“Y/N, I let you into my club. I gave you protection, and you go behind my back and give away important information” 

You leaned forward to speak, but that only caused you to have a gun to your head 

Yukhei gripped the arm of the chair, as he watched the man clock the gun 

“Sir, I just met him a few weeks ago! I wouldn’t betray you, I don’t even know where you would get that type of information” You spoke frantically 

“Some of the employee’s said that you’ve spoken to him every Saturday after your performances. Isn’t that right?”   

“Yes, but...” 

“But what?” 

“With all due respect, sir,” Yukhei spoke up, “It isn’t what it looks like. I was just conversing with one of your beautiful show girls.” 

“Our bartender said that you knew he was trying to collect information. Yet you failed to inform me, as so are the rules.” 

“Jesus! Yes that’s correct but-” 

“But your contract with me has been terminated. If I ever see the two of you on the premises on Leona’s again, I won’t hesitate to take either of you out. Do you understand?” 

“Yes sir” You both spoke in unison  

The two of you were both escorted out of the club 

You sighed and sat on the curb on the road 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you fired” 

“You were just doing you’re job. I didn’t do mine...” 

“... why didn’t you rat me out?” 

You looked at him, making brief eye contact and then looking away 

“I don’t know” you muttered 

“Because you think I’m cuteee!” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s okay! I wouldn’t let such sexiness be killed either.” 

You were silent, completely ignoring what he said 

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” 

“I don’t have a job anymore! I have to pay rent in a few weeks!” 

You both were silent for a moment

Yukhei pursed his lips for a bit and then spoke up “Come work for us instead! You’d have the protection of NCT at your service!”  

“No way, buckaroo!”  

“C’mon, you can even have me as your personal bodyguard!” 

“Would I really want that?!” 

He began to flex his muscles, “Look at these! I personally wrestled 3 alligators at once! And survived” 

He began to lift up his shirt and you yelled, pulling his shirt back down, “OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH! I GET IT! Fine, I’ll go with you!” 

Yukhei did as he promised  

He got Taeyong to give you a job at their club called N-City, as one of the main showgirls 

You defnietely had the protection of Yukhei, who followed you around like a lost puppy, unless he needed to go collect some information  

Which sometimes you’d tag along because he said “He’d need someone sexy to distract the men,, and that Yuta wasn’t doing a good enough job” 

No one really knows when the both of you started dating, it just naturally happened 

Jaehyun bet two of his best guns on it and lost,, they’re currently in the possession of Haechan... i think you know how that would go

Some of the other showgirls would gush over the boys and you’d do so with them  

And at the end of the day Yukhei would say, “I’d give up my last two guns for you” 

Not very romantic, but it’s Yukhei so what can you do? 

I’m kinda back bitches!!! 

#yukhei scenarios #yukhei imagine #nct u scenarios #nct u reactions #nct u imagines

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Damsel in Distress

Peter Parker x Reader

Damsel in Distress

Note: Here’s some Peter Parker x Hawkeye’s Daughter! reader

Warnings: Minor swears, adorable Peter Parker is adorable.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Clint said, leaning in the doorway of your room.

He had taken you in almost a year before when he found out your parents had kicked you out because of your powers. He and Laura didn’t even have to talk about it before they started setting up a room in the loft upstairs.

It didn’t take long to paint and furnish, and Stark was more than willing to fund your new room. Plus, having a teenager in the house was great. It was like having a built in babysitter every time Clint and Laura wanted to go out.

“Goodnight, Clint.” You said, jotting something down in your journal.

“You know (Y/N), if you want to,” Clint rubbed the back of his neck and walked into the room, sitting on the chest at the end of your bed. “You can call Laura and I Mom and Dad. If you want. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks,” You smiled, closing your journal and setting down your pen. “Dad,”

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, kiddo.” Clint smiled, way, way happier than he let on, and walked out of your bedroom. You counted to five, and as soon as you heard him walk down the stairs, you pulled your costume out of the chest at the end of your bed.

You looked it over happily. You were going to see Spiderman tonight. You had met up with him at least once a week since you had run into him on accident the first time you had flown to New York to fight crime.

Of course, since Spidey had gotten an upgrade, there was a significant drop in crime. Luckily for the two of you, less bad guys meant more alone time.

You slipped into your skin-tight white and silver uniform, your blue cape drifted from your shoulders, brushing the floor ever so gently. You slipped your silver mask around your eyes and pulled your long blue wig onto your head, pinning it into place and adjusting it so it looked natural.

You were pretty sure Clint and Laura had no idea you dressed up and flew around the country at night as Damsel in Distress (your superhero alter-ego), but you hoped when they eventually found out they would forgive you for lying to them. Well, you weren’t necessarily lying, you were just withholding the truth.

You locked the bedroom door, clicked off the lamp beside your bed, and opened the large window, flying out into the open air, soaring away from the farm and off towards the city. You didn’t realize that like they did on most nights, Laura and Clint were watching you from the front porch.

“What do you think she does when she leaves?” Laura asked Clint quietly as you disappeared from their sight.

“I think she’s making the world a better place,” Clint smiled softly. “Takes after her father,”

“Yes she does…”

***

“Spidey?” You asked, touching down on the roof of your usual meet-up spot. It had been months since you met the wall-crawler and you still didn’t know his real name, nor had you ever seen his face. Though, judging by the sound of his voice, you assumed he was around your age, if not younger.

“Right here, Damsel,” He waved, walking to the middle of the roof. “You know, I was studying the way you came in, and I think if you raised your legs a little higher and positioned your arms differently, you would fly way faster.”

“It’s all about physics with you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yeah. That’s kind of my thing.” He shrugged, walking closer to you. “How’s your week been?”

“Good. Yours?”

“G-great, yeah. So um, I talked to Mr. Stark, and he said you can stop by the Facility , i-if you want, that is.”

“I’m going on a field trip there tomorrow with the superhero club from school. Or did I forget to tell you that?”

“You’re gonna be there tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“So I get to meet you tomorrow. Really, truly, in person meet you there tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Awesome,”

“Well, I won’t be wearing my wig or anything, so, good luck finding me.”

“Aren’t you just going to tell me who you are?”

“What’s the fun in that?” You smiled, biting your lip teasingly. “Plus, my dad will be there, and he doesn’t really know about my little trips to the city in the middle of the night.”

“Is he chaperoning the field trip or something?” Spiderman asked. You thought for a second, deciding not to tell him who you were just yet.

“You could say that, yeah,” You smirked. You looked out over the city’s twinkling lights. “Any crime tonight?”

“Police scanner didn’t pick anything up,” he shrugged, going quiet for a little while. “Hey Damsel,”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think maybe tomorrow after your field trip you would consider, possibly, maybe going on a date with me? I mean, you like, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but-”

“I’d really like that,”

***

You walked out of the bus the next day, Clint following you closely. As soon as you stepped through the doors of the Facility, Clint gripped your shoulder, bid you farewell, and walked away, leaving you with the tour group.

It was a Saturday, which meant Peter Parker was at the Facility training. He found the group almost as soon as you walked through the door. You smiled at the sight of him. He was so subtle, wearing a red shirt with the famed Spiderman symbol smack-dab in the center of it.

It was the first time you had looked at his face. You smiled. God, he was cute under that mask. Really, really cute. Big brown eyes, tousled brown hair, and a nice build if you did say so yourself. You found yourself blushing. You almost lifted off the ground, giddy as a schoolgirl. You grounded yourself, focusing not to lose your balance or fly off on accident and blow your secret identity.

You watched as he scanned the crowd of high school students. Being in New York, there were quite a few students interested in superheroes. Suddenly, you were worried that he wouldn’t be able to find you in the crowd.

“Over to the left, we see the training facility of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, the Avengers. Miss Barton.” Called the teacher, trying to get your attention. “Miss Barton!”

“Sorry Mrs. Carter.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/N). Didn’t your father agree to give us a tour?”

“He did. I’m not sure where he got off to…” You looked around. Peter’s eyes locked on you, a small smile growing on his lips.

“Here I am. Sorry for the delay, Mrs. Carter,” Clint shot you a grin. “I’m sure you all know my daughter.” He led the group onwards. Peter walked up behind you, hands shoved in his pockets.

“So, Hawkeye’s daughter, huh?” He asked, smiling before whispering. “Damsel,”

“Took you long enough,” You replied, jabbing him in the ribs with your elbow. He laughed. You pointed to his shirt. “Subtle, Spider-boy,”

“Well, I wanted to make sure you could find me,”

“I wasn’t sure you would be able to find me without the blue hair and the mask.” You joked.

“Well, it was a struggle, but I managed,” He rubbed the back of his neck. He looked more nervous than he was trying to let on.

“So, are you going to join the tour group or what, um…I don’t know your name.”

“Peter.” He introduced. “Peter Parker.”

“(Y/N) Barton,” You held out your hand and he shook it, smiling.

“I bet I’d stick out in the group though, huh?” Peter asked, tilting his head to the side a little. You slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers and pulling him on with the rest of the kids from your school.

“I think you’ll blend in just fine.”

***

It was weeks later that Clint took you to the Facility again. You had been there all afternoon hanging out with Peter, but it was just then that he found you, sitting beside him on the couch holding hands.

“(Y/N), Peter, whaaaat are you doing?”

“Um, holding hands?” You offered, holding up your intertwined fingers.

“I did not bring you here to hang out with your, um…”

“Boyfriend. Sir.” Peter stated awkwardly, a nervous smile on his face.

“And how long have you been dating my little girl?” Clint crossed his arms, trying to intimidate Peter. It was working.

“Daaaaad,” You whined, rolling your eyes.

“Um, a-a few weeks, Mr. Hawkeye, sir,”

“Ah. And when did you plan on telling me?”

“Dad, leave him alone,”

“Oh, I’m not done with you, princess. Or should I say Damsel?”

“Shit,”

“Yeah, ‘shit’ is right,” Clint laughed. “You think I didn’t see you flying off every night. Wait, is he why you…It all makes sense now…”

“Well, would you look at the time,” Peter glanced at his watch-less wrist. “I’m really sorry Mr. Barton, but we have to go catch a movie, so.”

“This conversation is not over!” Clint started following you down the hall. You glanced at Peter, smiling.

“Run.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spider-man imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #fic overload

[empoweringworldofmpj]

Episode Transcript:

(provided by: http://makinggayhistory.com/podcast/episode-11-johnson-wicker/)

I’m Eric Marcus.  Welcome to the second season of Making Gay History.

In this episode you’ll meet two very different heroes of the LGBTQ civil rights movement.  People I’d never expected to find in the same room.  

Beginning in the early 1960s, Randy Wicker promoted the then radical idea that homosexuals should be accepted because they were nice middle class people. Just like everyone else. Randy led the first public protest against anti-gay discrimination in 1964 dressed in a coat and tie.  

Marsha P. Johnson was Randy’s public relations nightmare—a self-described drag queen hustler with a drug problem and mental health issues best known for her role in the 1969 Stonewall uprising.  

My plan was to interview Randy at his Art Deco lamp shop just a few blocks west of the Stonewall Inn. But Randy had other ideas. He suggested we go to his place across the Hudson River in Hoboken, New Jersey, where I could talk with Marsha, as well. I had no idea they were roommates.  

When we get to Randy’s modest apartment, Marsha’s in the kitchen making dinner. After a few minutes, she walks into the living room. She drapes herself in a chair like a cat in slow motion and absentmindedly starts sorting through her shoulder bag. A frosted wig comes to the surface and then disappears and then comes back to the surface again.  

Before I can get the wires to the lapel mics untangled, Randy is talking a mile a minute. He’s throwing off so much nervous energy that I wish to myself they’d offered me something stronger to drink than water.  

I ask them both to sit still for a second so I can clip the mics to their collars. I go back to my chair, reach across to the cocktail table to my tape recorder, and press record.

———

Randy:  Marsha’s the only one, she’s the only one everyone agrees was at the Stonewall riots. There were a lot of other people, but everyone agrees that Marsha was there, so…

Marsha:  The way I winded up being at Stonewall that night, I was having a party uptown. And we were all out there and Miss Sylvia Rivera and them were over in the park having a cocktail.

I was uptown and didn’t get downtown until about two o’clock, because when I got downtown the place was already on fire.  And it was a raid already. The riots had already started.  And they said the police went in there and set the place on fire.  They said the police set it on fire because they originally wanted the Stonewall to close, so they had several raids.  And there was this, uh, Tiffany and, oh, this other drag queen that used to work there in the coat check room and then they had all these bartenders.  And the night before the Stonewall riots started, before they closed the bar, we were all there and we all had to line up against the wall and they was all searching us.

Eric:  The police were?

Marsha:  Yeah, they searched every single body that came there.  Because, uh, the place was supposed to be closed, and they opened anyway. ‘Cause every time the police came, what they would do, they would take the money from the coat check room and take the money from the bar.  So if they heard the police were coming, they would take all the money and hide it up under the bar in these boxes, out of the register.  And, you know, and sometimes they would hide like under the floor or something?  So when the police got in all they got was the bartender’s tips.

Eric:  Who went to the Stonewall?

Marsha:  Well, uh, at first it was just a gay men’s bar.  And they didn’t allow no, uh, women in.  And then they started allowing women in.  And then they let the drag queens in.  I was one of the first drag queens to go to that place.  ‘Cause when we first heard about this…  and then they had these drag queens workin’ there.  They didn’t never arrested anybody at the Stonewall.  All they did was line us up and tell us to get out.

Randy:  Were you one of those that got in the chorus lines and kicked their heels up at the police, like, like Ziegfeld Folly girls or Rockettes?

Marsha:  Oh, no.  No, we were too busy throwing over cars and screaming in the middle of the street, ‘cause we were so upset ‘cause they closed that place.

Eric:  What were you screaming in the street?

Marsha:  Huh?

Eric:  What did you say to the police?

Marsha:  We just were saying, no more police brutality and, oh, we had enough of police harassment in the Village and other places.  Oh, there was a lot of little chants we used to do in those days.

Eric:  Randy, were you at Stonewall then as well?  Did you know Marsha?

Randy:  No, no, I met Marsha, Marsha moved in here about eight years ago.  I had met Marsha in 1973 as an Advocate reporter.  The GAA people had freed her.  It was, they locked up our gay sister, Marsha Johnson, but they went into the mental hospital and they snuck her out in an elevator and they ran out the door.  Now the reason they…she was in the mental hospital is she took LSD and was sitting in the middle of either Houston Street or…

Marsha:  There was no LSD…

Randy:  …pulling the sun…

Marsha:   What do you call that, umm?

Randy and Eric:  Mescaline?

Marsha:  No, what’s that other fierce stuff?

Randy:  Bella donna?

Marsha:  Uh, uh.  Purple… purple passion or something?

Randy:  But, anyway she was sitting in the middle and pulling the sun to the earth, but fortunately before the world ended and the sun hit the earth the paddy wagon from Bellevue came and took Marsha away to the mental ward and that’s how she ended up getting on SSI as a mental case, because they obviously saw, you know, she had a history of prostitution going back to ’62.  And I had met Marsha.  

I mean, when I did this article, this story, my impression of Marsha was that she was sweet, but you know, a little bit spacey.  So when this boy I met at the Gaiety and he said… I said would you ever go to the Village?  “Oh, yeah, I go to the Village and I run around with Marsha.”  And he was a nice white boy and I said, “I don’t know that, you know, Marsha’s the kind of person that, you know, you should really be hanging out with.”

Well, to make a long story, this boy became like my adopted son.  But he moved in, I guess, in January.  And one…  it was ten degrees and he said, you know, he said, “Marsha, you know, she’s out there, she doesn’t have any place to sleep.  She didn’t mind sleeping on the floor.  Couldn’t she come home and sleep on the rug?”  And I said, “Willy,” I said, “are you absolutely sure she’s not gonna’ rip us off?”  You know, I mean, I don’t…you know…  And he said, “No, no she won’t rip us off.”

Well, Marsha came in, I guess, in ’79 or ’80 and began sleeping on the rug here. You know, I mean, I got to know here and like her and she became… And I’m a big Marsha fan now.  It was so funny, ‘cause, I mean, I counseled Willy that Marsha wasn’t the kind of person you want to get involved with and run around with, you know.

Eric:  And you’ve lived together now for eight years.

Randy:  Yeah, yeah.

Eric:  Now were there lots of people hurt at the Stonewall that night during the riots?

Marsha:  They weren’t hurt at the Stonewall.  They were hurt on the streets outside of the Stonewall ‘cause people were throwing bottles and the police were out there with those clubs and things and their helmets on, the riot helmets.

Eric:  Were you afraid of being arrested?

Marsha:  Oh, no, because I’d been going to jail for like ten years before the Stonewall I was going to jail ‘cause I was, I was originally up on 42nd Street.  And every time we’d go, you know, like going out to hustle all the time they would just get us and tell us we were under arrest.

Randy:  Drag queen hooker.

Marsha:  Yeah, they’d say, “All yous drag queens under arrest, so we, you know, it was just for wearing a little bit of makeup down 42nd Street.

Eric:  Who were the kinds of people you met up on 42nd Street when you were hustling up there.

Marsha:  Oh, this was all these queens from Harlem, from the Bronx.  A lot of them are dead now. I mean, I hardly ever see anybody from those days. But these were like queens from the Bronx and Brooklyn, from New Jersey, where I’m from.  I’m from Elizabeth, New Jersey.

Randy:  See, I, I, Stonewall, I don’t want… I shouldn’t start on this note, but it puts me in the worst light, because by the time Stonewall happened I was running my button shop in the East Village and for all the years of Mattachine and you see the pictures of me on TV, I’m wearing a suit and tie and I had spent ten years of my life going around telling people homosexuals looked just like everybody else.  We didn’t all wear makeup and wear dresses and have falsetto voices and molest kids and were Communists and all this.  

And all of a sudden Stonewall broke out and there were reports in the press of chorus lines of queens kicking up their heels at the cops like Rockettes, you know, “We are the Stonewall girls, and you know, fuck you police.”  And this, I thought, you know, it was like Jesse Jackson used to say, rocks through windows don’t open doors. I felt this… I was horrified.  I mean, the last thing to me that I thought at the time we’re setting back the gay liberation movement twenty years, because I mean all these TV shows and all this work that we had done to try to establish legitimacy of the gay movement that we were nice middle class people like everybody else and, you know, adjusted and all that.  And suddenly there was all this, what I considered, riffraff.  And I gave a speech, I was asked to speak, I was asked to speak at the Electric Circus, which was a major, which was a major…  Marsha, you just got me.  Where are you going?  What are you doing?

Marsha:  It’s Carmen, wagging.

Randy:  Oh, she’s outside?

Marsha:  Yeah, c’mon sweetie.

[When Marsha gets up she forgets about the microphone and it pulls off her shirt. Eric and Randy search for the microphone’s foam cover.]

Randy:  Watch out.  God, you’re so dumb.

Marsha:  You think so?

Eric:  Okay, you were saying about Stonewall…

Randy:  Yeah, I was saying I was running my shop in East Village, the button shop, the big hippie shop, and when this happened I was horrified because it was civil disorder.  Somewhere I saw a picture from the Stonewall and it had a big sign up from the Mattachine Society, which was one of my base groups.  It said the Mattachine Society asked citizens to obey poli… to not obey the police, but to respect law and order, to act in a lawful manner.  In other words, the Mattachine itself was basically a conservative organization and they had a…  

They asked me to speak at the Electric Circus and I got up and said that I did not think that the way to win public acceptance was to go out and form chorus lines of drag queens kicking your feet up at the police.  And I was just beginning to speak and one of the bouncers at the Electric Circus found out that it was a gay thing, that the guy up there talking was gay and somebody standing next to him, he said to them, “Are you one of them?” And the guy said yes and he began beating the hell out of him.  And this riot broke out in the Electric Circus.  And I remember driving him home, because the kid was only about twenty-one or twenty-two years old.  And he said, “All I know is that I’ve been in this movement for three days and I’ve been beaten up three times.  I mean, he had a black eye and, you know, a puffed up face…

Marsha:  Oh, how terrible.

Randy:  …and, you know, no serious damage, but the thing was that you were dealing with a new thing.  And it shows that what my generation did, we built the ideology, you know.  Are we sick? Aren’t we sick?  What are the scientific facts?  How we’ve been brainwashed by society?  We put together, like, you know, Lenin… I mean, Karl Marx wrote the book.  That’s what we did.  But it literally took Stonewall, and here I was considered the first militant and a visionary leader of the gay movement, to not even realize when the revolution, if you want to call it this, this thing that I thought would never happen, that a small nuclei of people would become a mass social movement was occurring—I was against it.  Now I’m very happy Stonewall happened.  I’m very happy the way things worked out.

Eric:  Now you mentioned an organization that Marsha, you were involved with.  What was the name?

Marsha:  Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries with Miss Sylvia Rivera.

Randy:  STAR.

Eric:  What was that group about?  What was it for?

Marsha:  Ah, it was a group for transvestites.

Randy:  It was a bunch of…

Marsha:  Men and women transvestites…

Randy:  It was a bunch of flakey, fucked up transvestites living in a hovel and a slum somewhere calling themselves revolutionaries.  That’s what it was in my opinion.  Now Marsha has a different idea.

Eric:  What’s your opinion?

Marsha:  Street Transvestites Action Revolutionaries started out as a very good group.  It was after Stonewall, they started, they started at GAA.  Mama Jean DeVente, who used to be the marshal for all the parades.  She was the one that talked Sylvia Rivera into leaving GAA, ‘cause Sylvia Rivera who was the president of STAR was a member of GAA, and start a group of her own. And so she started Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries.  And she asked me would I come be the vice president of that organization.

Randy:  They had an apartment, they didn’t have the money to keep up the rent and they began fighting over who was using drugs or who was paying rent or who was taking whose makeup.  And, I mean, it got to be pretty low life and pretty ugly…

Marsha:  No, the building was owned by Michael Umbers, who was in jail.  And didn’t Michael Umbers, when he went to jail, the city took over the building and they had everybody thrown out. But originally the rent was paid to Michael Umbers who went to jail, and Bubbles Rose Lee, Bubbles Rose Lee, who was secretary to STAR, she had all kinds of things [?] around the building and stuff, you know.  So the city just came and closed the building down.

———

The dream of STAR House was to provide a safe place for street kids, but those kids were just a little younger than Marsha and Sylvia, who were in their early twenties and still had to hustle to survive.    

Marsha died in July 1992. Her body was found floating in the Hudson River near the piers on the western edge of Greenwich Village. She was forty-six. The New York City Medical Examiner ruled her death a suicide, but Marsha’s friends believed she was beaten to death or accidentally fell in the river. They lobbied for a new investigation and twenty years after Marsha’s death, the District Attorney’s office agreed to reopen the case.

To learn more about Marsha P. Johnson and Randy Wicker, please visit makinggayhistory.com. That’s where you can listen to all our previous episodes and also find photos and really interesting background information on each of the people we feature.

I’ve got a few key people to thank for making this podcast possible. Thank you to

our executive producer, Sara Burningham, and our co-producer Jenna Weiss-Berman.  Thanks also to our audio engineer Casey Holford, our webmaster Jonathan Dozier-Ezell, our social media advisor Will Coley, and our head of research, Zachary Seltzer. Our theme music was composed by Fritz Myers.  

A special thank you to Matthew Riemer and Leighton Brown, the men behind the LGBT History Instagram account who have so generously spread the word about Making Gay History. Be sure to follow them @LGBT_History. I learn something new from them every day.

Making Gay History is a co-production of Pineapple Street Media, with assistance from the New York Public Library’s Manuscripts and Archives Division.  

Season Two of this podcast is made possible with support from the Ford Foundation, which is on the front lines of social change worldwide.

And if you like what you’ve heard, please subscribe to Making Gay History on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever you get your podcasts.

So long.  Until next time.

###

[guacameowle]

Jihyun Route: Another Story - Notes

Below the cut are the notes of opinions & thoughts I wrote down as I was playing Another Story. It’s below a cut because it’s very lengthy; I think it came out to over 8400 words. I certainly don’t expect anyone to read all of it, but I had a few people ask for me to do this, so here it is. Some of it is more in-depth analysis, most of it is probably nonsense, a lot of it is me thirsting. 

Everything written is what I was thinking at the time something happened in the moment of playing the game so you can see how my theories/emotions of the game progress day by day. I did not go back & change anything I wrote after finishing the route. I haven’t even gone back to proofread it yet, so my apologies for ridiculous errors or confusion. 

The notes are broken up by days & then by endings (I’ve only completed good & normal endings so far). Obviously, this text will be loaded with spoilers. I apologize if you’re on mobile & the cut doesn’t work & you have to scroll past this horrendously long post.

I’m sure some of what I’ve said here will be controversial, but I’m not here to argue with anyone or create discourse; this is just a means to express my opinions & lingering curiosities about some aspects of the route.

I by no means disliked this route. I very much enjoyed it for all it’s drama, twists, emotional upheaval, discoveries, & Jihyun’s sexy sexy voice. 

Prologue

Like hell am I answering any of these calls.

Whyyy are you so obsessed with me?!

Omg they give you a 'call the police option'?! Iconic. I’m doing it.

I AM CRYING LAUGHING. I BAD ENDED & MC GAVE NO FUCKS. Just went home to order some chicken wings. A legend. SHE COULD NOT BE BOTHERED TO GIVE A FUCK. Honestly, that is my true ending. Ultimate true end. This is how my story would have ended if this happened to me in real life. Except I would have gone home to a tub of ice cream. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 Excellent start to this update. She honestly just disbanded a cult & got dinner afterwards like it was no big thing. Boss MC.

Ok I'll do the prologue & play naive now.

Oh. A blindfold. KINKY~.

MC better be prepared to die because she just willingly let herself be kidnapped. 🙄

DAY ONE

The new music is so so nice. That violin concerto - so beautiful. I need sheet music.

That bedroom at Mint Eye is essentially my DREAM room. Wowza. So much pink! Yeah yeah, Ray, I’ll play your game as long as I don’t have to leave that bed. Ever.

Fuck. Ray is wearing gloves. FUUUUUCK me right up. GLOVES!!!

CATCH MY ASS FLIRTING WITH JUMIN ALL DAY ER’DAY. I told Juju I wanted to hear his voice. I’m so thirsty.

Jumin released a quote book. It probably has great lines like, “Yaaaaaa” or “What is fried chicken?” … I’d buy it. Will probably turn out to be the best trilogy I ever spent money on.

“Mankind is born lonely.” (Call Ray after 00:00 chat). This game just got deep as fuck. I’m not ready for that kind of existential commentary at midnight on day one, ok? Let’s chill. I came here to talk to cute boys/girl, not mull over how mankind was doomed from the start.

Zen is already basically horny & ready to rumble if you tell him you called him in the middle of the night because you were thinking about him & honestly that already makes this a fantastic update.

I’m glad we got a little more context on how Yoosung had a random friend who joined a cult & tried to recruit him. Solid tie-in, Chertiz. Bravo.

JUMIN PREFERS FULL-BODIED WINE. FUCK ME RIGHT UP. THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY.

Yoosung, you’re breaking my heart. I want to comfort him so bad. Everything is still so fresh & he’s so frustrated. He’s going to be an emotional rollercoaster this entire route. I can feel it. Deep in my bones.

“You should be asleep." BINCH. Then why did you call me?!

Ok, day one is almost fucking over, where in the mint wig hell is V?! This is supposed to be his route, right? I’m fixing to start answering for Ray in a hot minute if Pastel Princey doesn’t show up pronto.

ZEN IS SUCH A NARCISSIST & I LOVE HIM FOR IT. “I wonder what I’d look like wet.” Me too, send a selfie quick. Please. I’ll beg.

I can’t stop flirting with everyone holy crap I’m probably going to bad end. I don’t even know who I have the most hearts for currently…

DAY TWO

Why are the longest chats in this game at 2 in the damn morning?! Cheritz, please…

Have I mentioned I really like V’s new sprite outfit? CAUSE I DO. It’s an excellent style. That coat with the pin on the lapel is perfect! Mmmhmm.

Also, V’s sprite’s body language seems pretty important to me. That arm wrapped over himself & holding his other arm feels very closed off. He’s the leader but he’s curling in on himself. Yes, by now we know he has secrets, but this almost feels like he’s unsure of himself for other reasons. Maybe I’m reading too much into it.

In a call V says the dark sky was taking over the moon but then in the next chat he says he couldn’t sleep because the moon was too bright. WELL, WHICH IS IT? I am betting that "bright moon" was probably just a lamp. Flip the switch, V. Turn it off & go to bed.

Aye, Jumin went to a foreign university. I want to know where. Have it ever been said how many other languages Jumin knows? I know he goes to New York & China for business a lot, so do we assume he takes translators with him or that he knows enough of the languages to get by? I’m so curious.

HOW V & JUMIN MET IS THE CUTEST SHIT I HAVE EVER READ IN MY LIFE OMGGGG. Jumin calling the insurance company about a toy car. Stop I can’t. I love him so much.

LITTLE JUMIN IN SUSPENDERS OMG I AM SCREAMING. That mini suit is probably bespoke Armani. Damnit.

V & Drunk!Jumin talking about their friendship is going to make me cry.

Jumin talks about almost being kidnapped on multiple occasions as if it were just a minor inconvenience of his day. “Ran out of pancakes, almost got kidnapped, crashed my toy car…”

Yeah yeah Ray. They're AIs. Sure. Uh huh. Totally believe you.

HOLY SHIT. Seven got a major equipment & set up upgrade. Someone tell me he posted to r/battlestations ?!?!?

Ray said he's going to try to tame me with food & honestly I am not opposed to this. He found my weakness so quickly. BRING ME ICE CREAM! STRAWBERRIES! CHAMPAGNE! Ask Jumin to make me some pancakes, I liked those.

Whoa dang. Zen's "sleepy but maybe gonna lose my voice" voice is 💦💦💦💦

V in that robe. 👀👀👀 ((Lynn, why are you like this?))

The first recommended party guest is a vampire (who could pass for Eros Katsuki Yuuri in a cape). I love this silly game. You think if I told Jumin that the 'Twilight' series was really a documentary he would believe me?

So Jumin confirmed he doesn't have siblings. That's actually one of the lingering questions I had about him. I’m glad he & V found one another at such young ages then. One could argue that they’re like brothers.

I am going to say it - I think Yoosung needs to meet with a licensed professional on a set schedule. He has no outlet for these emotions he's feeling & fears being badgered by RFA members when he does express himself. I feel so bad for him, especially knowing, as the player, that he was right all along to question V & the lack of evidence on Rika's supposed suicide. The RFA chatroom is not a safe space for him. Yet on the other hand, he’s being very selfish in wanting the others to grieve the same way he is. This is a very complex character bit about him.

Jaehee continues to be wary of me nonstop… but is 100% convinced that Seven is inviting the actual planet of Pluto to this party. ::looks directly into the camera::

Now Jumin wants to invite an actual bowl of udon. ::looks harder into the camera:: (If these were the guest recommendations Rika got, no wonder she left.)

JAEHEE CG. CRITICAL HIT. WOMAN DOWN. “You look tired.” JuMIN! No! “You look tired…” LyNN! NO!

I think I’m going to bad end if I don’t stop getting Jumin’s hearts… but I can’t help myself. I am a weak weak woman.

Why in the hell is this chat called “Party at Saturn” but then in the chat we talk about Jupiter instead. False advertising!

I could listen to V’s voice all day. That is S I L K Y ~

Ray is reaching obsessive level status. This boy just attaches to anyone that’s remotely nice to him, doesn’t he? I’ll admit, I went into this route but really liking Unknown. He irritated me. I knew he was tormented & abused, but he was not a good man. Ray though, seems really sweet. So are we to believe sometime between now & the two years into the future something happens to him that just causes him to snap & no longer want to be nice?

DAY THREE

Zen is saying “lmao” a lot.

“There’s a perfect medication for that. It’s called… BEER. LMAOOOO.” Zen is just me in college. Confirmed.

Ok so this route has some of the prettiest CGs I have seen in this game. I am loving them.

IT IS 4AM CHERITZ. I DON’T NEED THESE EMOTIONS FROM SAERAN TALKING ABOUT A POTTED PLANT WITH TWO STALKS & ONE OF THEM GROWING WEAKER. GODDAMNIT. I’M GOING TO CRY. OH SHIT HE BUSTED OUT THE CRYING EMOJI. BE STRONG, LYNN.

If this boy doesn’t get some sort of emotional help & redemption in this story I am going to be so so upset.

(Call 707 after “Paradox of the Survival of the ____ Chat) Did Seven just pull a “BITCH WHERE?” joke on me when I called him sexy?!

V's dad is a vampire. Look at that guy. Jumin, don’t look him in the eyes.

TEENAGE ANDROID ZEN!

Jaehee’s "jet pilot" convo had me dying. What kinda Space balls + Monty Python convo was that?!?!

This slow mellow piano melody (I guess V's theme) is very lovely. It makes me sleepy in a good way. That gentle crescendo in the middle with the chimes gives me chills.

CHOIR BOYS JUMIN & V!!!! HOW PRECIOUS!!!

I actually like that we get to see more of V's hesitation & examples of him still struggling with the grieving process.

Yoosung is really lashing out here. I understand his frustrations but he is very blind to his own selfishness.  

OMG THE START OF YOOSUNG'S LOLOL ADDICTION! 😨

New order of favorite voices: V, Jumin, Yoosung, Ray, Zen, Jaehee, Luciel. ((This is shocking to me because I tend to prefer high-pitched male voices. Why? I don’t even know. The first time I heard Yoosung’s voice I was like “THIS IS THE ONE. THIS IS IT! QUALITY! GOOD SHIT!” Then I heard Jumin talk & my panties were WRECKED. I couldn’t fight it. I didn’t want to fight it.))

Aye, not to RUSH anything but uhh… when do I get to start giving answers like “V come save me” cause homeboy is at Mint Eye. I’m at Mint Eye. We can fucking leave Mint Eye together. Just saying.

Me In-Game: “Yoosung, I think you need to seek professional help.” Yoosung: “I don’t think I need counseling. I’ll just vent my feelings into my new game!” Me Out-Of-Game: “BOY I HAVE SEEN YOUR FUTURE & WE NEED TO HAVE A TALK!”

DAY FOUR

“Say Yoosung for example … [he’s] set to mourn the death of his precious but is he really sad because of somebody’s death or is he sad because death still remains a mystery to him?” I swear I just looked off into the distance & said, “Holy fuck…” Ray is getting DEEP. He just made a damn good point honestly. My mind is blown. I need a minute. This explains so much about Yoosung, honestly.

Ray just broke all the characters down in like 5 words or less. I am seriously impressed. Chertiz. CHERTIZ, MY DUDES. Your game is fantastic. Your characters are so in depth. None of them are perfect & I love it.

“… plant a seed of happiness inside you.” You’re not planting any seeds inside of me. Nope. Thanks for playing. I don’t want your seed. I can buy seeds at Home Depot if I need them. Thanks.

I’m guessing day 4 bad ending is you basically just joining Mint Eye with Ray at this point… & getting all of his seed.

JUMIN CALLED ME WHILE HE’S LYING IN BED. I AM BLESSED & I AM ALSO LYING IN MY BED.

Ok… I was hoping this call would get sexy but now he’s just talking about mattresses. Look Juju, you’re welcome to come & help me test the firmness of my mattress & I’ll test the firmness of your-

Real talk, Jumin’s exaggerated sigh directly into my ear via headphones gave me chills. Bye. I’m ascending to another plane of existence.

…. I’m waiting for that moment V changes his profile picture. WHEN. WILL. IT. HAPPEN?

The Game of Kings CG. I’m fucking crying.

VANDERWOOOOD.

Zen looking like he did an autumn “back to school” photoshoot for Sears & I am LOVING IT. He’s so cute. Looks like a Sketchers advert.

Yoosung is too innocent for his own good. Just met someone one day prior & already accepting packages from them. STRANGER DANGER, MY DUDE.

WET ZEN SELFIE! MY PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED! BLESSED.

Yoosung, I want to be your ‘master’. Please & thank you.

Elixir of salvation. Ah, that wonderful combination of harsh chemicals & neurotoxins/hallucinogens. I wouldn’t put it past them to have added piss. Ray says he’s going to make it special for me though by adding flavor to it. This boy is probably going to add a dollop of ice cream in it & say “IT’S AN ELIXIR OF SALVATION FLOAT!” Hard pass.

V COME & SAVE ME ALREADY! But let’s keep the robe…. for reasons… (Hello, you have all been introduced to Meowle’s extensive clothing kink.)

“The secret has got out of my hands…” ::looks directly into the camera with both eyes unblinking:: Boy, I’ve been saying this since uh… 2 years… into your future….

If I’m forced to drink this shit despite choosing the answers of resisting I’m going scream. I DO NOT CONSENT.

SAVE YOURSELF V! RUN!

Ok really, I just want to pick Ray up, toss him over my shoulder, tell him to hush & trust me, & walk out of there while karate kicking everyone in the face. Come at me. (Congratulations Cheritz, you made me like a character I didn’t originally like. You sneaky skillful writers.)

Holy shit, excellent EXCELLENT voice acting by Saeran’s VA. That was absolutely phenomenal. Sujin Kang. Bravo!

DAY FIVE

THIS ROUTE HAS GOT ME EMOTIONALLY FUCKED UP & I AM ONLY ON THE START OF DAY 5?! How am I supposed to do this for 6 more days?

V panting in a phone call = my mind directly into the gutter. Whew.

Yes, because keeping MORE secrets has helped us in the past 4 days. Does nobody learn from their mistakes in this game?

((Explained the current plot of this route to my sister)) Sister: “Ok, if this took place here in Texas, you’d just bust in there with guns blazing to save those pink & mint boys.” Me: “I wouldn’t kill anyone!” Sister: “You could just like… aim for their legs so they can’t chase you out of there.”

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me” This almost feels like V’s emotions go beyond just self-sacrifice for those he cares about. This blatant disregard for his own safety feels very self-damaging. I’m wondering if they’ll tap into this idea further in the story. Does he not feel worthy of existing? Of love?

Whoa… whose voice is THIS? Whomever this lady voice is, she’s got protractors in her eyeballs too, like Juju.

“I’ve lost my violin, something I’ve played for my whole life.” GIRL, I FEEL YOU. My heart is shattering for her & I don’t even know who she is.

Ohhhh it’s V’s mom isn’t it?! Calling it now.

I'm laughing so hard. "IT IS TIME TO ACTIVATE THE INTELLIGENCE UNIT!" & it's not even established yet! Jumin please. Omg.

How adorable!! Teenage Jumin & V!!

Wow, V's philosophy on life sure did a massive 180 in 10 years. Hmm, methinks his mom is going to come in to play for that.

I swear, if anyone else pops in & tries to “cleanse me” I’d start throwing fists. Touch me, I dare you.

V is resisting every romantic approach. I feel bad for trying to flirt with him. I guess I’ll just flirt with Jumin then.

Zen giving Yoosung some major tough love. He didn't have to step up to care for Yoosung, but he did. Zen is a good man.

Yoosung's crying phone call is ripping me apart. Also this voice acting is phenomenal. So so good but so painful.

This is disgusting. Rika has some serious psychosis & V decided to suffer in it as some way to "prove his love". That's not love. This is blatant abuse. I'm appalled. V was blinded by 'love', literally & figuratively.

In the end, V was abused. He had his love for Rika twisted/manipulated & used against him. He was physically hurt by his lover. This makes me angry not just because it happened but because he gave consent. I’m just… so fucking baffled. You do not encourage someone who is mentally unstable (or even stable) to inflict pain on yourself or others as a means for them to try to maintain a grasp on their sanity or ‘happiness’ or because they want proof you ‘love them.’ V encouraged this, he allowed it, he consented & it fucking spiraled out of control. He took on so much pain. He thought by doing this he was somehow helping Rika, but it didn’t! It just made everything worse & Rika went on to hurt more people after this. Yes, I see that V is trying to redeem himself somehow, trying to keep everyone else out of the situation so they don’t suffer like he did & so they don’t get hurt but I can’t ignore the fact that V made mistakes in their relationship as well. Rika’s growing mental instability should have been handled with a lot more care (therapy ((if one doesn’t work try another)), hospitalization, medication). He knew from the beginning she was like this, no? He enabled these tendencies she had & it wasn’t good for either of them. I want to know his end goal. Was he just being selfish? Did he think only he could be a cure for her? What was he getting out of this since it didn’t read as if he was really being loved back. Did he do any of this out of malicious intent? No, I don’t think so - it reads as if he was doing what he thought was right but V made mistakes & I feel sorry for them both. V is a very tragic character indeed. He thought his love was some sort of cure-all for his lover but it wasn’t. This is actually very sad. In a way, I guess he did stop her from hurting others (for a time) or hurting herself, but that still doesn’t make this right.

I was heavily suspicious of V in the original routes (even though his voice was so goddamn sexy), particularly in Yoosung & Seven’s routes. I still think V is not entirely free from blame. I don’t think he’s by any means evil or manipulative, just misguided in what he thought was love but really was just self-sacrifice & pretty damn obsessive if you ask me. It also rings heavily of codependency. You don’t give up every part of yourself so your partner can find ‘happiness’, that’s not a healthy love. Love yourself a little more than that, Jihyun, please.

I don't like Rika. Yes, she did good things while ‘alive’ & at one point she might have been healthy & mentally stable but it spiraled out of her & anyone else's control into a very very dark place where she became toxic, manipulative, & delusional. She's done horrible acts that I refuse to look past regardless of her previous ‘good deeds’. Bad people can do good things for all the wrong reasons. She needs medical help, I can see that, but that doesn't mean I have to like her. Her words & actions against V are very selfish as well, demanding he prove his love by letting her physically hurt him? She targeted his need to please & exploited the hell out of that - backed him into a corner & kept badgering him about him proving his love (even though he seemed all too willing to do just that). This is wrong in every way. Mental illness isn’t a ‘free pass.’

This conversation between MC, Yoosung, & Jaehee felt very productive! Yoosung seemed to actually listen & take in another POV.

DAY SIX

Ok, I officially feel like I have no fucking idea what the actual shit Rika or V are talking about in any of their damn video novel conversations. Too many damn metaphors & nonsense. Yes yes, sunshine, flowers & dark skies. Let’s move along. I’d rather hear Yoosung crying.

Update: V officially changed his profile background picture again but still not his avatar picture.

I hope Elizabeth 3rd isn’t suffering at all through this dramatic period. Is she ok? Is she eating well? How are her jumps coming along? Has she been grooming properly? When was her last bowel movement? I hope my precious baby angel is doing well.

V’s mom is kicking me right in the emotions. Every word she’s saying is just devastating. To lose everything & be outcast, having your child ripped away, not being able to find solace in something you’d taken comfort in for decades… I can’t even begin to imagine.

What a sad sad parallel. V’s mom lost her hearing & therefore her art of music. V is losing his sight & therefore his art of photography. Wow.

Secrets secrets are no fun… BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING RUINING EVERYONE’S LIVES.

I don't want Ray to be abandoned again!

You make one comment about recognizing a 90s computer & Seven suddenly calls you "ma'am." Boy, I oughta...

Jaehee says that V drives a British make car that is silver in appearance. I am hoping it's a silver Aston Martin Vanquish (aka Meowle's absolute dream car - only I want it in black in black on black).

I am laughing so hard at the idea of Jaehee just turning toward Seven & asking, "Do you work out?” ((Another Story - Brought to you by Seven’s Hot Hot Body. He Works Out!))

Yeah girl, I hate to break it to you, but that mask is doing nothing to conceal your identity so…

Hahaaaaa Seven imitating Jaehee in this phone call is pretty damn hilarious.

Someone please tell me there some options to throw a punch or two cause I fucking will. I need a Mortal Kombat option.

Jumin's analogy about V, Yoosung, & the apple tree was really really good! That pep talk was amazing. Jumin hit a home run with that motivation speech.

What kinda photos did Seven find? Naughty photos? Photos of Rika hurting V? Are we going to get to see these later?

Ok ok this might be a stretch but it's almost like V's mom's love & desperation for her child, that concern to only want to shield from pain & no longer finding purpose in anything else in life, is heavily paralleled in V's need to protect his "art" (Rika). Is this why he was so determined to try to be the outlet for her pain? He really thought this was his way of protecting her? A set of photos in his series was called Obsession, right? Was this all about an obsession with Rika? Makes sense to me at least. V is in deep, I'm questioning his mental stabilities as well in these flashbacks, honestly.

This CG with Rika & MC makes me uncomfortable. Hands off, please & thank you.

God bless Jumin keeping me updated on Elizabeth 3rd because right now she's the only bright spot in this horrifically emotional route.

"Once they get used to love... I show them fear again. Just enough to get them scared. And when I save them again, they become happy." What kinda toxic manipulative evil callus twisted deceitful bullshit. Girl, if I get my hands on you I’ll show you something to be afraid of.

Shit is going down & Ray is texting me about sunflowers. "If you leave then I'll be the sunflower. I'm going to stand watching the direction you've gone to." 😢😢😢 Please, don’t hurt him anymore.

I am at the end of day 6 & honestly I don't know if I am about to bad end. Did I fuck up somewhere? Oh geez...

JUMIIIIN stepping in & delegating like a champ. I love you.

Rika just sort of confirmed my little theory about V & ‘noble self sacrifice’, thinking he was some sort of cure-all for her demons but didn't see that he was doing more harm than good. I don't want to agree with her here but I almost kinda have to. I mean, she did ask him to basically keep giving her unconditional love, so she’s also a hypocrite in saying it was entirely V’s fault. He wasn’t the cause of her “devil” but I think he certainly had an inadvertent hand in helping it flourish.

Cheritz, please let me fight someone in this game. PLEASE! I want a full on Mortal Kombat side mode. I will go full on Liu Kang up in here, complete with all the noises he made in Sega Genesis - HUUWAH!

Hell. No. I will not do anything for you ((at least not until I loop back around to intentionally bad end)). You can fuck right the fuck off. I ain't telling the RFA shit for you.

DAY SEVEN

Oh ho ho, defensive & in-denial Yoosung is out to play.

“We’re teenagers. This is the period where we express rebellion.” Cue Jumin tilting his tie clip 30* upward so it’s not perfectly perpendicular to his tie. REBELLION! Drink tap water instead of chilled glass-bottle mineral water. REBELLION! Pay with cash instead of card. REBELLLLLIIIOOOONNNN!

Real talk - Jumin, that was some outstanding advice. He’s telling this to his friend & they’re just children at this stage? That is some serious insight. I will never get over how Jumin, who is so emotionally closed off, is such a damn good friend to V. His delivery was impeccable as well, it wasn’t condescending or judgmental; it was sincere. It was very matter of fact but did have a hint of genuine concern for his friend. Their friendship makes me very happy & I am glad they have one another. This isn’t just a “little” chat. This conversation goes on to very likely change V’s entire life… & Jumin had a massive hand in that. I’m so amazed, y’all.

Ohhhh, I offered Jumin a hug & got shot down. I’m hurt. I’ll never recover. I need to redo his route so I can feel his love again.

“Super-ego” Oooook…. BOTH of y’all need to reevaluate some shit.  

Rika had a bullied fucked up childhood & she needs some serious professional help. I feel like a broken record. She’s gone by the wayside, hell she’s lost the map entirely.

All these metaphors & analogies they keep using for their pain & torment, is exhausting. Hide it in prose all you want, what we have here is toxic.

This sort of solidifies my theory that Saeran has a split personality, this isn’t just anger. There’s just no way this is “the same” person. He’s been hurt by so many people. Now it’s sad to watch him hurt others. If they ever make a route of him, I will be very interested in seeing what the event was that causes him to finally shift personalities between Ray & Unknown (at least I’m assuming it’s Ray vs. Unknown & not Ray vs. Saeran).

“I will hack everything” Lmfaoooo. This made me snort laugh so hard my chest hurt. EVERYTHING! HIDE THE TOASTER. HIDE YOUR WATCH.

I can’t fault Yoosung so not believing what any of the RFA members tell him. He has no proof. He’s been lied to, just found out he’d been lied to, & now told to believe something else? Yeah, I wouldn’t believe anyone either. If you try to tell me that the person I loved & looked up to the most went evil, was hurting people, & started a cult I would tell you to fuck right off & laugh in your face. We also forget Yoosung is a scientist (though he’s not acting like one at the moment), he needs to see actual proof otherwise he’s not going to believe it. HOWEVER, he’s so loyal to Rika that if he were to show up at Mint Eye he’d very likely join them just to be with Rika again. I hope the RFA fights tooth & nail to keep him from going to Mint Eye.

Ok ok, in this VN, V expresses that he feels grateful to have been told by Jumin to not live his father’s life & to live for himself & make his own opinion about his mom. So… when is someone going to step in & tell V to not live his life for Rika, because ever since he claimed to be “her sun” that’s what he’s been doing… living for someone else again. V needs to live for himself, find what really makes him happy. A lot of this route so far hints that V is struggling with self-love & being ‘selfish’ enough to find what makes him genuinely happy. Also, Jihyun seems very sensitive to the opinion of others. That’s an interesting character trait - nothing wrong with it. I quite like that he’s played up as sensitive but tries to take on burdens himself to spare others - makes him a very tragic & compelling character.

ZEN MOANING IN A PHONE CALL LORD JESUS I NEED TO DRINK SOME HOLY WATER. THANK YOU, CHERITZ.

Is it just me or does anyone else think that Seven coming to Mint Eye on his own is actually a bad idea? You don’t mean to tell me this boy is not going be distracted by seeing his brother like this? Hmm saving brother vs. saving random new girl. … no contest.

“If you can’t relax yourself, I’ll make you relax.” Please please make me relax Zen. Please, omg.

THERE’S A “ZEN, MIND IF I REPLACE YOOSUNG?” OPTION. BLESS YOU CHERITZ YOU ARE TOO GOOD TO ME.

Angry mother-hen Zen is ridiculously amazing.

Oh please oh pleeeeease let there be a phone call to Yoosung where he’s moaning because of his massage.

WHAT IS WITH JIHYUN’S FAMILY "SACRIFICING THEIR EVERYTHING" STOP. NO. STOP THIS TRAIN OF MADNESS.

BLESS THE PHONE CALL WITH YOOSUNG GASPING & LAUGHING AS ZEN TICKLES HIM. Yoosung is ticklish along his sides. It's canon.

“I didn’t love Rika.” WHOMP THERE IT IS!

JIHYUN JUST ADMITTED HE WAS OBSESSED WITH RIKA. THAT IS A BIG STEP, PASTEL BOY! I actually put my phone down, yelled “I WAS RIGHT!” to absolutely nobody because I was alone, walked out of the room then marched right back in to keep playing the chat…

::shuffles notecards:: ::clears threat:: ::lips on the mic:: The sun is a burning ball of gas in space. It is not capable of emotions such as 'unconditional love'. It will instantly kill you on contact. Quit placing so many expectations on the sun in your fucking metaphors. Good day.

That Rika screaming CG makes me uncomfortable. I would now like to be excluded from this narrative.

I just laughed so fucking hard. Rika is having a fucking breakdown & Seven's voice just pops in ‘PSSST, ARE YOU LYNN?!’ I can't.

DAY EIGHT

Ohhh. Ohhhhhhhh. These answer choices are getting trickier. Just completely bash Rika or kinda calmly defend V? Hmm, decisions decisions.

So Seven didn’t see Saeran at all… & still somehow doesn’t know it’s actually Saeran that’s the hacker. Interestiiiiing.

Called Zen after 00:44 chat Day 8. Told him he was doing a good job by watching Yoosung because it was a hard task. “Did you just… diss Yoosung… in a subtle way?” I died when he laughed!

These answer choices all feel too similar to one another. I’m gonna fuck this up. I’m going to bad end on day 10… just watch. ((I have like 5 save files going though so…))

Yep, I expected this from Yoosung. He’s honestly not as bad as I thought he’d be. He even voices that he understands he’s being unreasonable & whiney - he just can’t help the way he’s feeling. This is a very visceral & real reaction. I think I don’t find it annoying because I was fully expecting this. I braced myself for it & I am enjoying seeing it play out. He was the most loyal to Zika, he’s going to take a lot to make him believe. Oh, what if there’s a bad end where he & MC both end up as part of Mint Eye?!

::battered & bruised:: ::speaks into walkie-talkie:: Day 8 on mission of V route. So far no casualties. On the path to Good End still. But V still hasn’t changed his fucking profile picture. Over.

[[Here is where I caved & actually started to spend the thousands of hourglasses I have on buying days in bulk instead of just calls for V & Ray.]]

180 HG for a days worth of chats?! Gooooood Lord. ::clicks accept::

Ray’s clapping happy emoji is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.

I CAN’T LIE TO HIM & SAY I DON’T LIKE ICE CREAM. I FUCKING LOVE ICE CREAM. I HAVE MORE ICE CREAM IN MY FREEZER THAN ANY OTHER FOODS…

Whoa cool! Ray & Rika (my phone keeps correcting her name to be ‘Zika virus’) have profiles in the hacked messenger!

I told V “art” is part of my job because medicine is an art, right? Isn’t that a saying? “The art of medicine.”

Call V after 7:13 chat. This is a good call from him - not romantic I mean - but definitely good for more insight on how he now views his role in Rika’s progression.

Whoa whoa new chat room theme song when Rika joined in.

VANDERWOOOOOOOOOD!!! Bless. Their haggling is pretty adorable.

Update: V finally changed his profile picture & is emo as fuck.

About time these idiots realize the sun is fucking dangerous. Stop using it for your nonsense. This is driving me more insane than any other aspect of the game. Mention the sun again & I’m going to go stare directly into it until my corneas melt.

Was that finally a confession of feelings for you but kinda backhanded about it? With how torn up Jihyun is about this entire Rika situation, I’m very surprised that this route would even be considered a love endeavor between he & MC. I don’t think he’s anywhere near emotionally ready to pursue a new relationship with someone so soon after this chaos. I don’t know how I’ll feel if either of the ‘good’ endings is them together right away - it’ll just feel so wrong for the progression of his character. I think Jihyun needs to learn to love & accept himself before he can open up again to trying to love someone - at least loving something the right way.

Hahaaaa like hell am I going to say THE SUN is my muse. I’m going to stop going out in daylight at this point. My bones are going to get brittle. Thanks, Cheritz.

Omg V’s mom is such a boss lady. Be strong, Lynn. Don’t cry.

Aw shit, that fucked me up emotionally.

Is this why V doesn’t like people looking at his body? Does he have scars from this fire? I hope we get more on this. Or was that body comment just another glimpse into how unsure V is about himself? Another tidbit of not loving himself? Hmm.

I am honestly at a loss, I don’t know if I’m answering correctly to get to the party.

Noooo! V, why did you lie again?! He asked you point blank. You were progressing so well. THIS CAN ONLY END IN TEARS. TELL SEVEN THE TRUTH! Seven is going to be beyond hurt when he finds out that you just kept lying! He needs to know about Saeran! He needs to save him!

The music in this 22:00 chat is absolutely fantastic. Who is the music developer for this game. Give them a raise & a three week vacation to Hawaii. This soundtrack is so great.

OMGGGG did I fuck up? If V goes back to Rika, I swear. I’m so done. Ohh, that’s going to be a bad end, isn’t it? He’s going to give in again & go back to her!

This relationship is so twisted. We’re talking in fucking circles. This is the most unproductive conversation I’ve ever been a part of & I’ve spoken with anti-vaxxers in person.

I’m absolutely crushed. This was it. This was the moment? That full break between Ray & Unknown… I have no words. This is so so sad. The VA even does a different voice each of them.

I’m crying. Full on tears. Ray…

If this was the moment of the full separation between Ray & Unknown in this timeline, I am still curious what was the trigger to cause the full break between personalities in the original timelines. I really hope we get a Saeran route now. I wasn’t hoping for one before, but Cheritz has me hooked now. I need redemption for Saeran.

DAY NINE

So, I’m guessing I’m on the right track? Because I just realized a lot of the answers in this portion have a lot of self-centered MC options? So I’m trying to avoid the “me me me, V is better off with me” choices & focusing more on the “V is changing & growing for himself” options. I’m sticking with that since I’m fully on board with my theory that V needs to learn to love & live for himself.

DON’T BRING THE MOON INTO THIS. LEAVE HER ALONE. SHE DOESN’T DESERVE THIS.

Juuuumiiiin. I’ve missed you!

How many times do you think Rika had to set up her phone to auto take that photo of her standing in front of the Moon before she got it right?

VANDERWOOD!

VANDERWOOD SELFIE!

GIVE VANDERWOOD AN RFA PROFILE

VAN.DER.WOOOOOOD.

Vanderwood is laying down some fucking truth in this VN with V. Vanderwood - the voice of the people.

At this point, I'm just over arguing & talking in circles.

My heart was in my throat thinking Ray was going to drop the news that Seven was his brother in that chat room they were in together. I was waiting for it; I don’t even think I was breathing.

Oh RFA members + Mint Eye in the same chat rooms?! LET’S DO THIS.

Petition to rename the RFA to something else, anything else.

WHO DID THIS WOMAN JUST STAB. OMG. OMGGGGG. WTF WAS THAT PHONE CALL?!

Nobody has ever given V a hug before? How cold. I’ll hug you. I’ll hug the crap out of you.

I’m going to go hug my mom…

Update: Hugged my dad along the way to finding my mom to hug her. Hugged my cat too. My sister opened her arms for a hug when she saw I was making rounds, but I just high-fived both hands & walked past. I’m such an asshole.

Rika is flip flopping all over the damn place. Did you want his love or not? Is he your sun or not? Are you angry or not? Do you want him dead or not? I’m over it. Go away.

Ok why the fuck was the phone call from Rika about her stabbing someone BEFORE the actual VN where she stabbed someone?! I was so confused. That has to be some glitch.

$10 says now Rika is going to be torn between wanting V to die or not. She’s just going to keep flip-flopping. In the end, she’s just as obsessed.

Wow. Wow. The phone call where Seven is freaking out. Like genuine emotion scared shitless. Excellent acting.

DAY TEN

Rika was off looking for love her entire life when Yoosung was literally there right beside her loving her unconditionally when he finally met her.

Lmao "Don't go to the apartment, Yoosung. There's a bomb there." Yeah that's right, bitches. I can see in the future.

Damn Jaehee. Savage. I liiiiike it.  

"I didn't stab him that deep." Confession! WHOOP, THERE IT IIIIIS.

Son of a bitch. Ray is going to sacrifice himself isn't he?! While Rika's off playing house in her apartment again. I'm so pissed. Please please please let Seven save him.

I've been waiting for this Rika/Yoosung messenger chat! Now I fully expect Yoosung to resist harder & plead/beg. If I'm wrong, I'll eat my hat.

Damn they just give MC a straight up "hang up" option on Rika. Take no shit,  MC.

Everyone is hella vaguing in their profiles lolololol. You know you’re desperate when you’re vaguing in a closed off messenger accessible to only 7 people. We all know who you’re talking about. You’re not slick. 

Oh shit. V's mom making a comeback to slap me right in my feelings.

Ray's call after the 18:00 chat...

I have never been more attracted to Jumin in my fucking LIFE.

Ray’s best call is the one you make to him after 19:49. He cares so so much. He has so much to give despite being hurt & used & broken over & over again.  This was a great phone call. Devastatingly sad, but excellent for his character.

Where in the fresh hell did Vanderwood just pop off to? Last I saw him Seven asked him to look after MC. Then never again…

You bet your ass I chose the answer to tie Yoosung up. Like my thirsty domme ass was going to let that opportunity sliiiiiide on by. I’m not even surprised that Yoosung giggled at the idea. Bless his subby heart. Boy wants it bad. I am willing to give & give & give...

Whooooa 21:53 chat: “Ray has entered the chatroom” but ended with “Unknown has left the chatroom” I know this happened before but this is right before the final fight, right? Is Seven going to show up & find Unknown instead of Ray? Are they even going to do the brother reveal? Ray’s going to die, isn’t he? I can’t help but think that if V had told him, Seven would have tried harder, would have gone there personally. But then maybe Seven would get hurt too? Is Seven going to die?!

Yes, Jihyun! Find & love yourself! Live for yourself! This is an excellent idea! I approve of this. You need this. Forget about Rika! I wish you luck! 

Sonofabitchfuckfuckfuck. Ray deserved better. RAY DESERVED BETTER. That poor boy. He was so used, so confused, & so so tormented. I’m so angry. This wasn’t fair. I’m going to pout & be pissy about this for a long time. I’m hoping he really isn’t dead. Please please. I’m going to be in denial about this, I know it. I mean, they did show him in the control room in Mint Eye. He gave his final words & then there was the explosion. Is it too silly to hope that he somehow got out? Maybe...

Wowowow. That final chat with Rika, begging like that. That was brutal. Even in the middle there she switched between pleading & saying she’d get revenge. I really do pity her & I hope she gets help in this route but at this point I don’t even know. I’m on this emotional see-saw where I really dislike her but on the other side pity her. I’ll admit, I’m spending a lot more time on the side of not liking her. 

DAY ELEVEN

She’s not dead. There’s no way. I won’t believe it until I see a body (same with Saeran). YOU CAN’T TRICK ME. I’M A VETERAN OF THESE PLOYS!

Jumin. Fucking. Han. This man is so good. He’s so strong even though he’s struggling himself. That “lean on me” line nearly had me tearing up. Jumin Han is a GOOD MAN.

Also, Jumin said it isn’t confirmed if the hacker was in the building or not. I mean, being in a direct explosion could very well decimate a body, but what if he got out? Ray did sound pretty desolate about not having anywhere else to go & did seem pretty resigned to this suicide mission though. This isn’t fair.

PARTY ATTEMPT #1 (Invited 24 guests) - Good Ending?

WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? Is this like a “bad end” party? Why is she here? I fucked up, didn’t I? (I feel like the Minister of Magic in Harry Potter shouting “He’s back!”) ((If she gets to live & Ray actually died... I can’t. I’m still so angry.))

Yoosung, noooo!

OMG YOOSUNG, YES!

V’s mom has managed to make me tear up nearly every time she pops up on the screen. She had such impact on this route despite not be present in the here & now of it. She’s an angel. A fucking angel. Every CG of her’s has blessed me. This background story on her was so amazing. Her struggle & sacrifice for her son & finding purpose in herself after losing so much was... so beautiful. I’m going to cry again. 

BABY JIHYUN WITH HIS MOM CG. I’m crying for real. This is beautiful. The emotions for this were so so good.

What is with this game & Alaska?! Everyone is going there. Maybe Ray went to Alaska! 

That’s rich, Zen. Calling Jumin an alcoholic. Pot meet kettle.

Shit goddamn Jumin, was it necessary to be THAT savage about Zen’s selfies?

Jihyun turned into a beautiful happy hippie.

Hippie Jihyun is hot as hell. That smile. Wow.

Holy shit. “I want to love you. I will love you. I love you, just as I love myself.” That’s a damn good line! Damn good. 

Honestly, I am beyond glad, thrilled, immensely happy that there was a two year gap between Jihyun & MC actually getting together. If he had just jumped right into a relationship with MC after all of this, I would have questioned the foundation of the relationship. He was not emotionally ready for that so I’m glad the story allowed the time break so he could grow, heal, discover on his own.

I like that Jihyun wanted to be called his birth name again, not the ‘persona’ V that he’d created for his art, like a cloak or shield. He found & accepted himself & wanted to be that person. That’s beautiful. Self-love is very hard to achieve. I know a lot of people struggle with it, so it’s nice to see that represented in a character.

I want answers for what happened with Rika. We are just to assume she was sent off somewhere to get help with no updates?

I do not like that Seven was never told about Ray. I know it would cause more hurt for him, but he deserved to know. That just felt dirty. I feel dirty.

I am genuinely impressed that Yoosung was the one to stand up at the end to apprehend Rika. He was a little tornado this entire route & I was glad to see him finally understand at the end that this Rika was not the same one he cared so deeply for. Being the one to grab her & hand her in, had to have hurt him - but he stepped up & did it. That was good progression for him. Took him a long damn while to get to that acceptance, but that action of his took a lot.

I’m glad Jihyun’s route focused more on his development to turn away from obsession & look toward himself. It’s a similar kind of character growth in the other routes (learning to accept yourself & grow beyond something holding you back). These stories were never just about falling in love with someone, they grew to be better versions of themselves in the end. Jihyun’s development was definitely more artistic (cushioned in prose & woven in metaphors & abstracts) than others, but it was interesting just the same.

I like that they made such a big deal about Jihyun getting his eyes repaired. He refused to get them healed other times, but showing he was willing now & grateful to Jumin for setting it up was a nice touch to see how developed he’s become & showing he’s willing to let go of Rika (despite him talking about her every other sentence still…). Baby steps. He’s letting go of the hurt, recognizing he’s worthy of love & happiness too.

Maybe it’s just me, but was anyone else sort of wanting to see a CG of one of Jihyun’s paintings? I would have liked to have seen what they considered his painting style. He looks much more relaxed & carefree in his good ending CG, I wondered if his paintings would have reflected that.

PARTY ATTEMPT #2 (Invited 5 guests) - Normal Ending?

I really like this idea of Jihyun just venturing out on his own to find what he likes, what makes him happy. The self-discovery journey. But boy, you were just stabbed. I don’t think you can be discharged within a day after a celiotomy.

Jihyun talking about his dream house is ridiculously cute. This man essentially wants a little messy cottage in the city. How adorable. He went from being a materialistic & pragmatic teenager to being content with a sort of abstract pleasures in his adulthood.

Oh, so in this ending Jihyun asks MC right off the bat to be with him. Seems a little rushed, no? I don’t think he’s ready. He’s feeling a lot right now. Who is to say his obsession won’t transfer over to MC? He claims to have learned his lesson & to recognize the difference between obsession & love but I still think it’s very soon. I really wouldn’t want this to turn into Jihyun becoming dependent on MC after this emotional trauma & that being the basis for their relationship.

MC’S ONLY RESPONSE IS “ALRIGHT” Omg. So bland.

Are we to assume that Rika is actually dead in this ending? Because she never showed back up? Hmm.

So there’s a 2 year jump in this ending too, only we’re to assume that MC & Jihyun have been together as a couple during that time?

Ohhhhhh you can call Jihyun “darling”! <3

Wait, didn’t Jihyun say he wanted a little house in the city with curtains to block out the sun? This looks like a high rise apartment with massive fucking windows & sheer curtains that let in a lot of sun... but ok.

WHOA WHOA, Jihyun became a musician in this ending?! I want to know what he plays! Does he play piano like his theme song?! Does he play violin like his mom?!?! I will cry.

Jihyun’s pouty voice is ADORABLE! Holy crap where has this been all my life?!

Oh, interesting! He’s still very sensitive to the opinions of others (I mean, I certainly didn’t expect that to go away, you’re always going to fear criticisms). At least, he seems a little more open to hearing them, even if he’s hesitant to play for MC again since he wants her to like what he plays. He’s still a little shy, private, & sensitive. Cute.

These rich boys & their pancakes…

Jumin obsessed with pancake recipes confirmed. I love him so much.

His answer about their relationship was very sweet & shows how he’s come to understand a give & take balance, as well as loving himself & genuinely loving together. That was cute.

Still pissed that Seven never found out about Ray.

I want to know what instrument Jihyun plays!

OTHER

I went from being very skeptical of Jihyun’s character (he just felt downright shady) in other routes to liking him (now that we see the depths of his self-damaging & self-sacrificing behavior & the full reason behind all the secrets). He’s certainly not perfect. He’s made many mistakes. He was misguided in a lot of aspects. He’s still learning & now trying to do better. He’s talented, pretty, sensitive, kind, & generous. He was a victim as well & even had a hand in his own progressing downfall before he realized his mistakes & reevaluated himself & the situation. I definitely like him a lot more now that I know the reasoning behind his actions & seeing the changes in him for the better - especially seeing him accept & appreciate himself more. 

Yeah yeah, I’m going to be that person - I’m sad we didn’t get a kiss CG! I wanted one, not going to lie. Maybe we’ll get one for his After Ending if he gets an after ending?! Who knows. I wanna smooch him, that’s for sure. 

I expected to like the normal ending more since I liked all the other normal endings for the other characters more than their good endings, however I find myself liking Jihyun’s good ending over his normal ending. I just can’t get past the fact that I think he needed that self-evaluation time away from MC. That two years apart (though probably a lot longer than I would have expected the game to do) felt necessary. In his good ending, Jihyun sounded much more certain that MC was who he wanted to be with & to love instead of asking MC straight away to just stick by him in his normal ending. In his normal ending, MC questioned him, & he sort of recited a dialogue about their love. Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself? Or maybe MC was just trying to gently remind him that yes, what we have is real, & healthy, & good for both of us & just needed him to say it aloud? Regardless, good ending sat better with me overall.

I still want to know what the other photos were in that series of photographs he took. I mean Seven, sounded pretty damn shocked by them. We didn’t even get a line about if it was actual imagines of inflicted harm or salacious material (I’m not trying to be a pervert for once, I’m genuinely curious).

Ray deserved better. I don’t think I can put it into any other words than that. I was very upset with his end in all of this. He didn’t deserve that. Only Rika & V knew his identity. Rika is either dead or being treated somewhere (depending on whichever ending you cater to) & in neither of the endings did Jihyun make known that the hacker was Saeran. I’m legitimately angry about this. How can Saeran even rest in peace that way? Is only the audience (& MC) to mourn for him? Everyone (RFA) is mourning for Rika in a sense but Ray deserves SOMEONE who knows who he was. Sure, Rika has that moment where she screamed & felt remorse, but she still didn’t speak up. Would anyone have believed her if she had? Maybe not. But he deserved someone trying on his behalf. Maybe I’m sitting too long on this, but it felt dirty. I know I said that earlier somewhere, but I still think it. This was wrong. He died in an explosion, alone, with only two people knowing who he really was & they didn’t fucking say anything. Seven is never going to really know what happened to his brother, so what happens if he goes looking for him in the future? Fuck, I’m crying again. I’m so sorry, Ray. You didn’t deserve this, you just trusted the wrong people. 

#v's route #another story #mm #mysme #mystic messenger #text post #long post #meowle mumbles #meowle notes #jihyun kim #V #jumin han #yoosung kim #zen #hyun ryu #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #saeran choi #ray choi #jaehee kang #rika #vanderwood #spoilers #jihyun kim route notes #route notes

[allonsysilvertongue]

Wiping History

“What will happen when we get to your arena?” she demanded. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.“ 75 arenas and one colossal task for Effie Trinket. Hayffie. Post-MJ. Previously

11 The Space Between

 Johanna Mason came like a hurricane. 

 The schedule Effie had perfectly moulded her life into in the name of stability was severely disrupted. Johanna kept her up at odd hours to rant and talk, she dropped by the office unexpectedly and declared they had to go out for dinner together and she even dragged Effie to the bar Haymitch had grown fond off, the same one she had sat with him a few weeks ago. 

 There, Johanna challenged Effie to a drinking game, as if Effie had nothing else to do with her night. She didn’t but Johanna didn’t need to know that, of course. 

 Haymitch watched on, more amused than anything and provided little to no help when Effie cast him a pleading look which quickly turned into one of despair. 

“For every time this idiot says ‘um’, we drink,” Johanna set out the parameters of the game, nodding at the television mounted behind the bar where a news caster was reading that night’s news. “And each time someone orders a drink with a weird-ass name, we drink to that too.” 

 “Are you out of your mind?” Effie huffed. “That’s clearly quite subjective. What is weird to you might be perfectly normal to me.” 

 She laughed loudly. “All the cocktails’ name on this menu is weird so …. There we go.” 

 "I really do not -" 

 "You’re in too, Haymitch," Johanna declared. "Maybe then Trinket will play." 

 Snorting, Haymitch said rather smugly, “You know I’ll win, yeah? I hold my alcohol better than you both combine.” 

 “Oh, is that what you think?” Johanna scoffed. “Whatcha say, Trinket? Want to prove him wrong?”

 “Ready when you are,” Haymitch cajoled, raising his glass teasingly. 

 “Do not encourage her, Haymitch. And No, Johanna, absolutely not,” Effie stood adamant on that. “We have work to do tomorrow.” 

 Johanna levelled her gaze, silently imploringly Effie to team up with her against Haymitch and Effie pursed her lips. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Johanna threw her hands up in frustration. 

 “You’re boring,” she shot. 

 "Boring is good.” 

 At Haymitch’s loud snort, Effie turned to glare. 

 “Boring is good? The hell is that?” 

 “It is good! It means – Oh, look, there she goes,” Effie cried despairingly, watching Johanna tower over a man sitting by one of the booth only to bend forward teasingly, giving him a clear view of her cleavage. “Should we…..” 

 “Nah,” Haymitch chuckled, downing his own drink. “She’s a big girl and ‘boring is good’ ain’t her philosophy in life,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Let her live.” 

 “Don’t wait up,” Johanna winked, dragging the man out of the bar. 

 “Do not be late tomorrow!” Effie shouted after her. 

 All she got for her efforts was the door shutting without Johanna sparing them even a second glance. Effie seriously hoped that Johanna was not planning on bringing the man home to her apartment. 

 “So….” Haymitch swivelled in his seat to properly face her with his free hand pouring her a glass of tequila. “What is it like living with Johanna Mason?”  

 “She is as messy as you are. If I have to judge who is messier, I wouldn’t be able to. You are a both a tie.” 

 “Still remembered what it’s like to share a space with me, huh?” he smirked. 

 Fifteen years of sharing the same Penthouse with him for a month or so… It was ingrained in her memories. 

 “I should head home.” 

 “Why? So you can listen to them fuck?” Haymitch laughed. “Where else you think she’s gonna go? A hotel… where she run the risk of running into papparazi? Nah, she’s heading over to your place.” 

 “Where should I go then? It might be hours before they are done… I wouldn’t know, would I? Should I call or - ”  

 “Here, go back to mine,” Haymitch palmed his keys off to her. “You have a boring reputation to maintain so go ahead even if it’s still early… Take the bed if you have to. I’ll take the couch.” 

 The only problem with going back to his rented apartment, she soon realised, was that she had no change of clothes and she absolutely refused to sleep in the one she was wearing now. 

 How improper…. 

 His wardrobe, unsurprisingly, was a mess. He had not even bothered to hang any on hooks and hangers. He had dumped his clothes at the bottom of it. Clearly all he had done was upend his duffel bag when he arrived. 

 She fished out a grey shirt, rumpled with two small holes near the rounded neckline. It was simple enough for bedtime and horrid enough to never be seen on anyone if they wished to step out in public. 

 Clutching it close to her chest, she went to the bathroom and stepped under the shower. She emerged with her hair wrapped in a towel and his oversized shirt hanging off her frame.   

 Effie was already in bed, feet tucked beneath the covers, while she sat half-propped on the headboard, going over the schedule for the upcoming week from her tablet when she heard the front door unlock. 

 Haymitch moved about the house – the sound of his footsteps against the parquet floor, the running water from the kitchen sink and the clicking of the light switch in the sitting room – before the bedroom door slowly creaked open and he poked his head in.  

 “Oh,” he blinked at the sight of her looking expectantly back at him. “Thought you’d be asleep by now.” 

 She smiled. “Checking up on me?” 

 He pushed the door further and she blushed when his eyes took the sight of her in. 

 “I borrowed one of your shirts.” 

 Haymitch leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. 

 “Looks better on you,” he shrugged even though all he saw was the upper half of her body.  

 His face was lighted up by the gentle warm glow of the lamp and it softened his features considerably, and there was something in the air surrounding him in that particular instance that made her heart lurched.  

 “There’s enough space for you,” her thoughts spilled out before she could process them. 

 His gaze shifted to the empty space next to her and the hesitation played across his face. She could see him thinking it through before he gave a shake of his head. 

 “It’s fine,” he declined gently. “I don’t sleep much so the couch won’t be a problem.” 

 Effie sat up just then, looking at him imploringly. A part of her was little hurt by that but she quickly worked out that he was being careful. 

 “Haymitch – “ 

 She stopped when he stepped into the room. But instead of climbing into bed like she thought he would for that one wild moment, he simply sat down on the armchair next to the bed. 

 “This,” he gestured at him sitting down and her on the bed, “is familiar.” 

 At her perplexed expression, he chuckled. 

 “Didn’t think you’d remember – you were unconscious. After – uh – after they got you out,” he shifted in his seat, “of prison and you were recuperatin’ in the hospital, I sat to keep watch whenever I could.” 

 “I never saw you when I was awake,” she frowned. 

 “Yeah, well, you were hysterical each time you saw me and at the risk of havin’ you sedated every damn time, I made myself scarce and…. By then, when you were awake, Coin was discussing what to do with you. I had to make sure that … she didn’t touch you. She wouldn’t touch you.” 

 Effie frowned. 

 “Did you make some kind of deal for me?” 

 “I did what I had to. What I should have back in Thirteen if I had known.” 

 “What do you mean?” she asked.  

 This was new. This was something they had never talked about. Back then, the wounds were still too fresh and she was still far too angry and disappointed with him. Back then she had not wanted to listen and he couldn’t get a word in before he left for Twelve with Katniss in frustration. 

 “Katniss made a deal with Coin while I was in rehab. I had no contact with Katniss, not while I was drying out and it wasn’t like our girl wanted to see me either. She had no idea you were taken prisoner and Plutarch didn’t think it was information relevant to Katniss’ decision making. If I had been there, sweetheart, I could have made sure…. I wasn’t there but after…. When there was something I could do, I did it.” 

 She swallowed hard.  

 If he could, he would have and with her, he would always try.   

 She had never doubted but she just couldn't look past the anger to see that. 

 “I am not…. I am not angry with you, Haymitch.” 

 "What? Right now?” 

 “Before,” she answered. “Being angry…. It is so exhausting.” 

 His finger turned the gold bangle on his wrist distractedly. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'd know that better than anyone else." 

 "Johanna said some things to me.... She reminded me that I put one foot in the grave when I made my allegiance glaringly known with the gold wig which was not exactly subtle, when I went off to buy Peeta's gold pendant. I tried to be careful when making that purchase but.... They do have a way of making people talk." 

 "You're just sentimental, sweetheart, it makes a fool out of the best people. You were punished for your loyalty and I made a mistake. I - " 

 Effie pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the bed so she was perched on its side, directly facing Haymitch. 

 "You didn't. You had to think about keeping Katniss and Peeta both alive in that arena. You had to think of getting them out safely to Thirteen. You had a Rebellion to be responsible for. I had no space in there for you to worry about." 

 "Effie - " 

 "And it is something I have come to terms with," she said before he could derail her train of thoughts. "I have had the time to think, plenty of time alone here to think about everything. I wasn't really angry at being left behind when you made it to District Thirteen. The children were your priorities and I wouldn't change that." 

 "You sure?" He frowned. "Cause you spent months being angry with me." 

 "I felt a tremendous amount of resentment when I was left behind during the rescue. You have to understand where I was mentally at that point. I was tortured, I was in pain, I was starving and I couldn't think straight. It made me feel so irrelevant that I meant so very little for my name to be on the list but I know now that neither you nor Plutarch had any idea where I was being held, much less that I was with the three victors. I know now that you were indisposed in District Thirteen when Katniss came up with the list for immunity." 

 Outside in the apartment, the streets were still alive - teenagers laughing and talking with their friends, adults partying and the rise and fall of sounds coming from drive in movie playing in the park nearby - but here in this room, the feeling as if they were in their own bubble, in their own world was overwhelming. It was only them, talking about the things that had created a wedge between them.  

 Perhaps, this was what nights were for; quiet admissions and delicate emotions that might feel too burdensome to talk about under the sun; for the reminder that any problems that were too heavy for the heart to bear would end, just like this night would, and when the sun comes up the next morning, they would know what light looks like. 

 "Yeah, I see how all that could make anyone lose their fuckin' temper," Haymitch nodded easily in agreement. "That and what you presumed from the votes." 

 Effie flushed because the votes were a gross misjudgement on her part. 

 "Yes, I was furious about it and everything happened so fast after that. The execution, President Coin's assassination, Katniss' trial... We never really had any time between us to talk about anything. The anger kept festering in my heart and suddenly, you were there standing in my apartment telling me you had to leave with Katniss. I thought to myself, and I admit I was being inherently selfish right at that moment, here we go again. The pattern kept repeating, Haymitch. I grew extremely tired of being left behind and I couldn't go with you when I thought you had voted for another Games." 

 The space between them – from the bed to the armchair – seemed to shrink as she talked. It was therapeutic to be able to unload everything, to have him listen to her, to let him know that she was now willing to move past it.  

 "I'm sorry," she apologised for the second time within the space of days. "I was irrational and wrong, and all the names I called you were horrible." 

 "For what it's worth, Effie," he leaned forward slightly, capturing her hand thus bridging the space, "I'm sorry. I should have made you my priority, too." 

 She offered him a smile. 

 "You're the friend I know the longest who is still alive," his lifted his eyes to look at her. "We were in a shit storm after the war but I want us to be okay. I have Katniss and Peeta but they ain't you." 

 Effie heard what he didn't say. No one knew him better than her. No one could ever reach the kind of understanding and familiarity they shared.  

 "No one can ever be me." 

 His laughter filled the room. Haymitch left her for the couch outside but not before kissing her forehead, and she went to sleep that night feeling at ease and with a smile on her face. 

So Johanna is here! Also thanks to her, Effie spent the night at Haymitch's place so let me know what you think of Johanna being there or the hayffie talk :)

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #johanna mason #wiping history