#if you’re legitimately confused I’m happy to elaborate but like

[fuck-you-showerthoughts]

"im wlm but its actually mlm even tho im a woman" dude what.

Are you. Are you missing the “multi” in multigender

#I contain multitudes etc etc #asks #if you’re legitimately confused I’m happy to elaborate but like #ask!!!! #ask me a question instead of idk this

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Nyx

Nyx is a primordial goddess and the Greek personification of Night - the mother of Hypnos, Thanatos, Nemesis, and many more. She's a mysterious figure in their mythos as there's little surviving info about her cult. What is known, however, is that she was portrayed as beautiful, powerful, and feared by Zeus himself.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares, Hestia, Nyx

Lucifer 

What happens when you take a being born from the darkness and place them in a realm of eternal night…?

The answer came when the MC first stepped out of the portal. Everyone in the room was wholly expecting a normal-looking, confused human they could get up to speed, however…

The MC's skin suddenly darkened until it was as black as a shadow, their clothes levitated around them as if they were defying gravity, and glimmering speckles dotted their skin like twinkling stars.

Even their eyes turned a pure, glowing white without irises or pupils… Like two crowning stars locked into a body made from the shimmering night sky...

They weren't human. At the time, Lucifer wasn't even sure he could say what they were... Breathtaking, certainly, but there was something else about them that he couldn't place… something… foreboding...

Diavolo must have had the same unease because Barbatos was put in charge of monitoring them. The butler would send reports to them both and the results would range from benign to nerve-racking...

They kept their distance from his brothers and most people, but their power seemed immense... Barbs would report seeing them making small items float or summoning a meteor shower from their fingertips!

Lucifer ended up actually tasting their powers only once. When they stepped in to protect Beel and Luke and he went to attack them…

The whole House began to shake and the candles of the tomb started going out one by one as the air grew intolerably heavy... He could have sworn he saw a vortex of… something... swirling at their feet...

He backed off immediately and Beel and Luke got off with a warning, mostly because he was trying not to look utterly petrified...

He's never met a more beautiful and dangerous creature in his life… Pact mark or no, this is probably the only person the firstborn will admit he never wants to have to fight because he'd lose, big time.

Mammon

He was expecting to find a human when he walked into the Student Council room, not an alien!!

Mammon was seriously scared of the MC when they first met because he legitimately believed they were an extraterrestrial sent to probe him!!... Or whatever else those scary movies say aliens do, lay eggs in his stomach?

He straight up avoided them like the plague until the Goldie incident more or less bound them together. But even then there was a distance between them he just couldn't place…

Naturally, it bothers a demon a bit if their master doesn't seem to like them, so he eventually cornered them one day to force them to tell him why they'd been running off!

As it turned out, the MC actually knew as little about their new form everybody else! They had been perfectly normal in the human world, but for some reason the Devildom supercharged them! They could tell that they were powerful, but had no idea how to control themselves yet and it scared them...

So Mammon became their first unofficial "coach." Not that he knew how to train them or anything, but he was the first person supportive enough to even try to help them learn their new powers.

It led to some… interesting misadventures. Like when the MC unexpectedly burst every water pipe in the House or when they got a little too frustrated and ripped the kitchen apart with an accidental twister, but hey, Mammon was always there for them at least.

Of course, because he's who he is, he's not above asking the MC to help him with his schemes for "training purposes…" Infiltration is more fun if you're weightless, after all!

Speaking of weightless… His favorite way to float is when the MC gets excited and hugs him. They can't help but levitate them both off the ground when they're that happy and it makes the whole hug that much sweeter.

Leviathan 

It's… it's like he's in his very own Magical Girl anime!!! Uh, "I'm a Demon and this is My New Life with a Magic Starchild!!"-or something like that. 🤷‍♀️

He didn't even think their transformation was real when he first saw it! He really thought it was an elaborate body art cosplay but then their "freckles" rearranged themselves when he frightened them, so it had to be real!!

He'll declare that they're probably (literally) the coolest thing on the planet. They have the looks of an epic fantasy character plus insane powers to boot! 

…though uh… they may need a training arc or two to learn how to control them… 😅

Since their powers are apparently tied to their emotions, Levi's seen them do a whole bunch of stuff that's not entirely on purpose... Like, they can make things float when they're happy and push everything down when they're sad. 

So once he showed them one of those "tragic ending" animes for fun, but they cried so hard that they increased gravity and accidentally sent his bathtub crashing into the basement…

The worst of it is when they're mad, though. He made the mistake of making them play a rage game once and they ended up shattering all the glass in his room! His aquarium wall and Henry's fishtank included!!

They were able to make a zero G sphere of water in order to save Henry's life, but the cleanup was brutal… They were super sorry, but Levi took most of the blame himself anyway.

Honestly, he'd have been more mad but their body is clearly not something they can control just yet. Plus, it's so cool that he can put up with a little destruction anyway, you know?

Satan

Well, isn't that an interesting phenomenon?

Meeting a demigod is exciting enough, but one who reacted to the Devildom like that? It was pretty much unheard of!

Though he'd hate to admit it, Satan stalked the MC just as closely as Barbatos for a little while... But only because he was a little unsure of how to approach them…

They kept to themselves and their powers seemed "a little" unpredictable (see Levi's orphaned bathtub). Thankfully, Mammon ended up recommending the MC to him since Satan's one of the smartest guys around.

Satan made a better coach than Mammon, anyway. He was far more knowledgeable and actually able to hypothesize the strength their powers, which came in handy because uh… well…

Look. The whole realm 'ooohs' and 'ahhhs' over their appearance but they're all fools - no morons - for not noticing what potential the MC actually has. Satan was positive that the MC is the most powerful being in the Devildom, without question.

They had a complete control over gravity, atmospheric pressure, and even astronomical bodies… If they wanted to, they could literally pluck a planet out of orbit and send it careening into who knows what!

Want more terrifying? They could create near-matterless vacuums at the palms of their hands with the potential to suffocate, crush, or rip apart basically anything they wanted with implosive force….

Does he even need to spell out why that's utterly horrifying??

At least the MC seemed to be a genuinely nice person who wanted to control their powers better… Their emotions often got in the way but they tried their best.

He likes the MC a lot, but he'd be lying if he said that they didn’t also terrify him… They may have been pretty normal in the human world, but give them endless night and they may as well be a god...

Asmodeus 

Oh… My… Father!!! They're GORGEOUS!!!!

From the moment their transformation completed, Asmo had never seen anything like them! He said that they were like a living droplet of the night sky!

They were magnificent!! They were radiant!!! He was posting pictures of them before they had even said their first sentence!!

So Asmo was pretty much patient zero for any and all rumors and hype about the MC after that... Apparently someone like them only visits the Devildom every one, maybe two, centuries so everybody was bound to get talking.

Thankfully, the MC's habit of ducking out of the House kept them from becoming a full on sideshow. Unfortunately, however, Asmodeus was relentless!

He'd beg them to try modeling or make videos with him because of their unique look! He'd lay on the praises, but it was a little... much. It wasn't until Mammon finally stepped that he backed off a bit.

Asmo sometimes forgets that not everyone puts as much emphasis on looks as he does... Though he meant well, he hadn't realized that the MC maybe wouldn't appreciate him making such a big deal out of their appearance change. Pretty as it was, it was still involuntary to them...

Of course, after they told him this he cooled off and stopped putting them out there so publicly but even still he could hardly keep his eyes off of them... unless he was looking in a mirror, of course. 😘

A fun fact about the MC: when they blush, their skin makes a pink nebula. And thanks to his antics, Asmo has seen their lively pink cheeks many, many times… 🤭

Beelzebub 

Belphie would like them, wouldn't he...?

Beel's first reaction upon seeing the MC was genuine sadness, as seeing the stars with his twin brother still gone often brought him… 

The sadness didn't last too long at least because Beel tried his best to see the MC more like a person than a work of art or an oddity. Sure, they looked different - like really different - but they still laughed, cried, and ate like everybody else so they couldn't be that different.

Though then again, most people don't end up floating in midair when they laugh… Eh, oh well. It's not like those little details bother him. 🤷‍♀️

He always remained certain that Belphie would like the MC so he told them a lot about him. Since his twin loved stargazing, it'd only be natural that he'd like someone who looked like the stars, right?

Aside from the occasional tangent about his brother, Beel would also help the MC with their training by letting them help him with his training!

Controlling gravity can be pretty nifty for strength/resistance exercises, so there would be days where Beel would just pull a Dragon Ball and walk around at 1.5 or 2 times Earth's gravity thanks to having the MC on his back!

Sure, lifting a glass of milk becane so difficult that he literally broke a sweat from trying, but he felt like he can juggle motorcycles afterwards so who's complaining? Not him!

Belphegor 

……

………….

Was it some kind of joke?

The MC was not human. There was no way in heaven or hell that whatever he lured to the attic was supposed to be a human!!

Really, everything about the MC and their situation seemed directly designed to throw a monkey wrench into his plans...

One: They weren't human so how was he supposed to ruin Diavolo's dream? Two: They were clearly some kind of magical being so they could likely defend themselves…

But third ans most embarrassing of all... he honestly, genuinely, has never seen a more amazing person in his life. Blame it on his soft spot for the stars, but the moment the MC step up to his prison bars, he was smitten...

And. He. HATED IT!

Look, as much as he loved the night sky, he wasn't about to let some random non-human derail his anger! He was stronger than that!

He managed to hold onto his bitterness just long enough to make a halfhearted attempt on their life after they got the door open, but uh…

His brothers found Belphie when he fell through a newly-made hole in the ceiling... Said hole was made when his body slammed to the ground hard enough to crash through the attic floor... 😣

If the damage they caused wasn't enough to change his mind (which it was), then their distress when they thought they might have hurt him certainly did. Even their tears looked like stardust...

After far too long, Belphie got over his denial and began to properly love MC. If he liked stargazing before, he adored it now because he never even has to get out of bed! He can just roll over and follow the "stars" on the MC's body!

Unfortunately, that same love means it also takes a lot to ditch him if they get sick of being his personal night's sky… The brothers have found him floated up and sleeping on the ceiling on numerous occasions so the mortal can get some fresh air (clever MC)...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

[lihikainanea]

Could we please have some angst?? Maybe Bill was spotted out with a beautiful actress or his ex, but Tiger wasn’t aware of that meeting which breaks her heart because she thinks that their thing is probably going to end now that Bill is interested in going out someone else.

oh fuck, my poor wee heart.

I’ll bet it kind of happens when he’s away too, right?

Follow me down this angsty rabbit hole. Let’s go with the ex theory. The Case of The Ex (where my early 2000s kids at? Anyone?). Maybe it’s one of those terrible ex’s too. I low key kind of love Alexis Knapp--girl’s got some fucking edge to her, something just a little insane--but apparently she’s the one he was talking about when he referenced some seriously fucked up, dangerous relationship in a few interviews. Which isn’t cool--but let’s go with something like that. Maybe it was when Bill was in his early 20′s, there’s still a lot you learn about yourself in that time and you get into bad relationships. Damaging relationships. You’re still figuring yourself out, still figuring out this whole adulthood thing, and you’re bound to make mistakes. I don't think anyone can be faulted for being a shitty person on some level in their early 20s, and for some reason I think Bill might have been a big time shitty dude.

But look--his ex is some big time actress. Beautiful, by all accounts. Maybe their relationship was pretty hyped by the press too--the paps would legitimately follow them, mostly for her, whether or not they were called. And tiger’s at home, missing her big dude, catching up on trashy reality TV and that’s when she starts to see it--pictures. A picture of him, hugging her. Laughing. A lot of pictures.

And what tiger doesn’t know is that Bill was out to dinner that night, a cast dinner, and his ex happened to be at the restaurant. What tiger doesn’t know is Bill’s blood ran cold when he saw her, he tried to avoid her, did anything he could to just leave before she saw him--but it didn’t work. What tiger doesn’t know is that Bill cringed, gritted his teeth, tried to step away from the hug but the girl flung herself at him with too much enthusiasm. Tiger didn’t see his grimace, didn’t see that the hug lasted barely a nano second before he pulled away and stepped back from her. Tiger didn’t see his eyes noticing the paps in the bushes, tiger didn’t see that that’s what made him force a smile. Tiger didn’t see that the entire interaction lasted about 4 seconds.

And tiger didn’t hear the conversation, didn’t hear the girl tell Bill that they should reconnect, go for dinner while he’s in town.

Most importantly, tiger didn’t hear Bill’s venomous response.

“No,” he deadpanned, “And get fucked.”

Tiger didn’t see him walk away and not even spare the girl a glance.

Tiger only saw the pictures.

And listen, I talk a lot about tiger wallowing in her own emotions, becoming a martyr. But let’s talk about tiger’s fire here. Because she’s still her, she’s still every bit the terrifying ball of fury that Bill fell in love with, and the one thing that will get tiger’s blood boiling every fucking time is competition. And women don’t compete with women--that’s lame. But tiger only ever HEARD of this girl from Bill, knew how she hurt him, knew the kind of hell he fought through, and this girl is now thousands of miles away putting her hands on what is tiger’s.

Tiger wants to kill them both. And she doesn’t even bother taking a few calming breaths before she calls him--is it a FaceTime? Oh, it’s a FaceTime. She wants to see his face while she destroys him.

And he answers--happy and cherubic, a big smile on his face.

“Hi kid,” he says cheerfully.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she seethes.

Bill is confused.

“You tall fucking fuck,” she says, “Fuck you, you seriously think that--”

“Whoa, kid,” he grimaces, “Easy on the fucks.”

“Easy?” she spits, “Oh, okay. Let’s talk easy.”

And I’ll bet she just goes off. And somewhere in there, Bill finally figures out what’s going on. Because in between all the fucks, she relays the story as she knows it--just you know, it’s a much more elaborate version than what actually happened. And Bill? Ohhh, tiger’s anger is revving him up. But it’s revving up every single dominant trait in him, and all he’s trying to do is get to a place quiet enough where he can snap back--put her in her place the way she’s practically begging for it, and not be heard. He finally ducks away somewhere isolated.

“Enough,” he interrupts her, “You really think this is the way it’s gonna go, kid?”

“You’re the one who--”

“Listen to me,” he hisses, “Tiger, there is going to be a boarding pass in your email in the next hour. If you want to come at me like this, then you can fucking do it to my face.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, “I’m not fucking--”

“You’re getting on the plane, tiger,” he snaps.

“Fucking make me.”

“Fucking try me, kid,” he growls.

She hangs up. The boarding pass comes in 10 minutes later, without a note. And later on that night, before bed, Bill calls her again--because he won’t ever let her go to bed without calling her, but tiger is MUCH more petty and she lets it go to voicemail.

“If you’re not in my hotel room tomorrow night, you’re in big, big trouble kid,” his velvety smooth voice threatens, “Goodnight, I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And she almost doesn't do it. She almost stays home--but her only motivation is that she wants to look at him, wants to stand there in front of him and rip him apart for this.

And Bill’s not stupid either--he recognizes her anger, but he also recognizes its true form. Insecurity. Vulnerability. (And it’s not ever an excuse to yell, but tiger isn’t yelling at HIM. She’s also not calling him names, because that’s never okay.)

And ohhhh boy, when tiger gets to the hotel room the next day, Bill is just waiting for her. Already nursing his third glass of scotch, tiger opens the door and unceremoniously throws her bag to the floor. Whips her jacket off, slams it on the bed.

“You want to talk, bud?” she snaps, “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Oh no no, kid,” Bill says with mock amusement, “You seemed to have so much to say to me yesterday, so you’ll be doing the talking.”

But look, tiger is just...tiger is a little less bold when she’s there in front of him--just like Bill knew she would be. She’s a little less courageous, like he knew she would be. And the power dynamic is shifting again, back to its natural state when it comes to these two, and both can feel it. Bill stands then, draws up to his full height. He walks slowly towards her, glaring her down the whole time, and suddenly tiger is losing her nerve in a big way. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of her, glowering down at her, their chests touching.

“Talk,” he demands. Tiger swallows hard, tries to grasp on to any ounce of anger that is rapidly leaving her body.

“She--”

“Who?” Bill snaps. Tiger makes a frustrated noise.

“You know who,” she says, shoving at his chest and turning away--but he grabs her elbow, whips her back around to face him.

“Who, tiger?” he asks harshly.

“Her,” she barks out, “Your ex.”

“What about her?” he says.

“The two of you,” tiger tries to keep her tone harsh, accusatory, angry--but it’s not working.

“What about it?”

“Fucking having dinner like old times, eh?” she snaps and shoves him away, but Bill’s not having it. He regains his footing and slams her back into the wall, grabbing her face in his hand.

“What did you see?” he asks. Tiger tries to shake out of his grip but it’s too tight.

“The two of you,” she snarls, “At dinner, having a great time.”

Bill jams his knee between hers, pinning her.

“What did you see?” he demands again.

“You and her,” she says, “In love like you used to be, you fucking--”

“Tiger,” he snaps, “I don’t give a shit what you think happened. What did you see?”

He’s trying to get a point across. Trying to make her realize that her mind filled in a million blanks for her, and blew this entire thing way out of proportion.

“Photos,” she says, and her answer this time is much gentler, “Photos of you and her. You were laughing, and you hugged her.”

He steps away from her then, shoves down on her shoulders to put her on her knees.

“No,” she fights back, swats him away. But he overpowers her, hooks a foot behind hers so she falls in a heap, and he grabs her face in his hands. He looks angry, he looks like a man on fire, and his grip is harsh.

“Four seconds,” he growls, “That entire interaction lasted four seconds. I wasn’t at dinner with her, I was at dinner with the cast and she happened to be at the same restaurant.”

Tiger swallows hard, but he’s not letting up. She reaches a hand up to try and touch him in some way--his chest, his arm, but he smacks it away and grabs her face again.

“Look at me,” he demands, “I didn’t hug her. She saw the paparazzi and went for it--I tried to step back, step out of the way, but she lunged. I laughed to not cause more of a scene, tiger.”

His eyes are unblinking, intense as they bore into hers.

“And when she asked to see me again, you know what I told her? I told her to get fucked, tiger. I don’t ever want to see her again,” he says.

Tiger stays silent, tries to hold his gaze.

“Four seconds,” he repeats.

He lets her go then, releases his grip on her face and stands back up. He goes to pour another scotch, but when tiger puts a foot on the floor to stand he snaps his fingers at her.

“No no, you can go ahead and stay like that for awhile,” he says. But tiger can’t.

“Yellow,” she mumbles, and Bill turns to her immediately. He softens, walking over to help her stand and she keeps her hands on his arms so he stays close.

“Is that really what happened?” she asks lowly, “That’s all?”

“That’s all, kid,” he says.

“I thought that...” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “I thought that you maybe started to want...something else. Someone else.”

“I don’t,” he says softly.

“I thought that maybe we were...that this was done.”

“It’s not.”

“I thought that maybe you didn’t want me anymore,” she says, and it breaks his heart. He ducks his head, bending to catch her gaze. 

“I do,” he says, stroking his thumb across her cheek.

“And god she’s such an asshole,” tiger says, and Bill chuckles at that.

“She is,” he agrees, but then he takes her face gently in his hands again and gives her a sweet kiss.

“You, kid,” he says simply. 

Tiger sighs, nodding as she pulls him in for another kiss.

#angst #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

[cryptidshuffle]

the less we say about it the better - chp 1

ao3

Rating: Teen Fandom: Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware Relationships: Tommy Coolatta & Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman (pre relationship) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death(its benrey dont worry hes ok), meta about deaths and respawns, arguing about the rules of uno, gay pining, Mutual Pining, fellas is it gay to comfort ur friend who u love and are both boys?, also fair warning it'll eventually be a poly ship with benrey, Autistic Character, Autistic Tommy, ADHD Gordon, everyone is gay and trans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: “after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental break downs.” they are trying to recover after black mesa, but recovery is hard. especially when one of you is still dead

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

They had been out of Black Mesa for a few weeks now. It was difficult trying to acclimate to life after the incident, but they were all making it work.

The science team had gotten together for some sort of game night, something cathartic about being around others who share the same trauma. Anyways, snacks and Uno was just as chaotic as one would imagine with this group of chucklefucks, with competitive tensions high on the last round of the night.

“You can’t stack the draw 4 cards, Gordon,” Bubby argued, smacking Gordon’s hand just as he placed the card.

“Says who?”

“It’s literally against the fucking rules of the game,” Bubby said back.

Tommy agreed with, “It is in the official rules, Mr. Freeman, they- Mattel confirmed it on Twitter.”

“But that’s dumb!” Gordon argued back, “I’ve always played where you can stack those, why change that now?"

Bubby retorted, “Well maybe you’ve always been playing wrong, huh? Ever thought about that, smartass?”

Dr. Coomer chimed in with, “Well on the official page for Uno (card game) on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, it states that

The following official house rules are suggested in the Uno rulebook, to alter the game:

Progressive Uno: If a draw card is played, and the following player has the same card, they can play that card and "stack" the penalty, which adds to the current penalty and passes it to the following player.[4](Although a +4 cannot be stacked on a +2, or vice versa.)[6] This house rule is so commonly used that there was widespread Twitter surprise in 2019 when Mattel stated that stacking was not part of the standard rules of Uno.[6]”

“Well, there you have it,” Gordon exclaims, interrupting Coomer’s Wikipedia infodump, “Just because it’s a house rule doesn’t mean it’s not a legitimate way of playing."

“What if I don’t want to play with that rule, that’s fuckin stupid,” Bubby grumbles.

“Jesus ok, I'll play a different card, happy?” Gordon says dejectedly, taking back his controversial draw 4 card for a more innocuous one. “It’s your turn anyways.”

Bubby throws down his last card onto the pile. “I win fuckers!!!! Ahahahahaha!"

“You wouldn’t have won if you let me stack the fucking cards,” Gordon said as he threw his losing card pile onto the coffee table.

“Don’t fret Gordon! Bubby is just extremely good at card games,” Dr. Coomer replied.

“You're forgetting I’m a goddamn genius, that extends to my sick-ass Uno skills,” Bubby bragged.

Gordon chuckled, watching the two older scientists get up to leave, and watching Tommy remain, quietly cleaning up the uno deck into neat piles to place in its box.

“Well gentlemen, it’s been fun, though I think it’s time Bubby and I better get going!” Dr. Coomer said.

“No problem, don’t want you two to be late for your old man early-bird breakfast at Golden Corral tomorrow!” Gordon teased.

“Shut the fuck- I’ll kick your ass,” said Bubby.

“Hello Gord- Actually our old man breakfast is not until Saturday! It’s the one day a week I let loose and unhinge my jaws at the buffet like a Burmese Python!” said Dr. Coomer as Bubby grabs his coat and keys.

“That sounds absolutely horrifying,” Gordon laughs.

“It really is,” says Bubby. “Well, see you later asshole,” Bubby says, herding himself and Coomer out the front door.

“See you guys later,” Gordon says.

“Goodbye, Gordon! Goodbye, Tommy,” Coomer also says, before they leave Gordon’s apartment.

Tommy had yet to get up to leave, he stayed sitting in his seat staring into space, and fiddling with the Uno card deck.

“Hey Tommy, you alright man?” he asked gently. At the mention of his name, he was shaken a bit out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah I'm fine Mr. Freeman, why do you ask?”

“I mean you were kinda just staring into space for a bit, and you didn’t say anything when Bubby and Coomer left.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tommy said, starting to move to leave.

Gordon placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, if something’s bothering you, just know I’m here if you wanna talk about it,” Gordon comforted.

Tommy blushed slightly at the contact and nodded.

“Thank you. I-uh… I’ve just been thinking about things that happened back in Black Mesa and, you know,” he pauses to think for a bit, and sighs, “honestly I’ve been thinking a lot about Benrey.”

Just at the mention of him, Gordon felt his stomach drop with the weight of too many emotions.

“Yeah...I uh… I understand,” he responds with a sad sigh, “anything in particular you’re thinking about him?”

“I don’t know just kind of- Earlier I started thinking about how much he would enjoy game night. And then I started to miss him and realize that- that he’s not here. I feel guilty about killing him and upset at what he did. He was still my friend and I just- I want to know why he did what he did. I just want to understand,” Tommy said.

Gordon looked away as he thought about his own emotions regarding Benrey. He was undeniably angry with him, for getting him ambushed by the bootboys, for getting his arm cut off, frustrated with the constant taunting. Yet… he also felt guilty for some reason and he couldn’t quite place why. Gordon really didn’t want to feel guilty.

“Yeah…” Gordon sighed, “I'll be honest I do feel guilty about it too. I don’t know why because I feel like it should be justified since he did try to kill us. But there were times when him pestering me about my arm felt like… like sincere questioning? I still… I don’t know.”

“Yeah… I think-” Tommy cut himself off, staring at a fixed point in his vision, trying to decide whether or not to bring this up.

“I don’t think Benrey understood how human mortality worked.”

Well, that wasn’t what Gordon expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he was from Xen, Mr. Freeman, he wasn’t human. It was different for him. You remember he did die several times, but he came back eventually. He had to wait for his form to regenerate.”

“Wait-” this time Gordon cut Tommy off, “Oh shit, that wasn’t a joke?  For some reason I just assumed his talking about respawns and shit was part of his Epic Gamer bit?”

“I mean it was a little but I think… there’s probably a reason Benrey attached himself to video games so much, yeah? He can see himself in the structure. Like, uh- something he can relate to.” Tommy says. “It doesn’t excuse what- what he did, but I feel like knowing why things happened makes- makes them more understandable.”

Gordon leaned back on the couch blown away by the revelation. In hindsight it wasn’t that surprising but it took him a few seconds to come to terms with the reality.

“Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess it does make a lot of sense. Wait though, I swear to god all of you have died at least once, but you guys aren’t from Xen?” Gordon said, now confused about the seeming metanarrative of the mortality of his friends.

“Yeah, but those were weird Black Mesa things, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, not elaborating any more than that.

Gordon waited a beat for Tommy to explain more but he said all he needed to.

“I will ask you more about that later, but I do not have the energy to unpack all that right now,” Gordon said with a gentle laugh.

“Wait, getting back on topic real quick, why couldn’t Benrey just... respawn now? Did we really get him that good?”

Tommy looked incredibly sad when Gordon said this, and he regretted it immediately.  ‘Damn it Gordon, Tommy’s clearly upset about Benrey, you don’t gotta be an insensitive dick.’

“Well Mr. Freeman, that’s kinda why I’ve been thinking about him,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to respawn. Depending on the amount of damage it takes longer but… It’s been a while and what if- What if he is back but he is mad at all of us and that’s why we haven’t seen him? Or what if it is taking a really long time because we hurt him a whole lot. Or what if we…”

Tommy got quiet for a few seconds, the silence in the room was deafening. For an instance Gordon felt as if making a sound would shatter the air like glass.

Tommy finally said with a whisper, voice thick with choking back tears, “What if we killed him for good? And I don’t- I never see him again?”

It honestly broke Gordon’s heart how distraught Tommy was. Pushing his own complicated Benrey feelings aside, he was gonna focus on Tommy here and now.

“…Tommy, is it ok if I hug you, man?” Gordon couldn’t think of the best way to comfort the other man with words, but physical comfort he could do.

Tommy looked a little surprised at this ask but nodded. Gordon leaned in to hug the other scientist and Tommy collapsed in his embrace, completely breaking down.

Gordon just sat there and held him as Tommy sobbed into his shoulder, trying to comfort the crying man by rubbing circles into his back.

Gordon’s brain processed the things Tommy had said. Was Benrey really gone? Why did he feel guilty about the idea of having killed Benrey, he was fine with the concept during the final boss fight on Xen but now… the thought made him feel… sad? Regretful? Even his seemingly rational justifications didn’t seem as clear at the moment, only thinking of his fonder memories with Benrey.

‘Fuck this,’ he thought as he felt his own tears well up, ‘this isn’t about me, I need to focus on being there for Tommy,’ pushing his own feelings to the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough where his sobs turned into sniffles, and he started to pull away from the hug.

“S – sorry for having a – a breakdown on your- on your couch Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, the post-crying mental fog making his stuttering more noticeable. Tommy didn’t really have the effort in him to care.

“Don’t worry about it, man, after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental breakdowns,” Gordon joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Freeman, in terms of mental breakdowns that was as mild as a first-grade pizza party in the eye of a hurricane,” Tommy compared in a way that made little sense to Gordon, yet ridiculous enough to cause the man to burst out laughing.

“Alright I’ll take your word for it,” Gordon said, still laughing.

“I’m serious Mr. Freeman, once you have a meltdown so intense that you accidentally teleport yourself to an inter-dimensional void, the rest is a cake walk at the school fair,” Tommy said.

“Waitwaitwait- teleport?” he leaned back to look at him in surprise, “Since when could you fuckin teleport!” Gordon asked caught off guard.

“You know, learned some things from my Dad,” Tommy said, again failing to further explain himself.

“…Well alright. Yeah that tracks.”

Gordon was quiet for a moment before responding with, “You know, Tommy, I want you to know I’m here for you if you need anyone to talk to. You were there for me when I was at my lowest in Black Mesa, and I wanna be that friend to you if you need it,” he said giving the other scientists hand a comforting squeeze.

Tommy smiled, “Thank you, that means a lot Mr. Freeman.”

“You know you can call me Gordon, you don’t have to be so formal all the time Dr. Coolatta,” he teased.

Tommy blushed, ‘dammit why did he have to be so cute?’

“Wow Mr. Fr – Gordon are you really gonna make fun of my doctorate that I worked very hard for,” Tommy teased back, still a bit sniffly from crying.

“Dude, I cannot imagine you in college for some reason, what was your doctorate even in” asked Gordon, semi-jokingly, but still a bit serious.

Tommy laughed a bit, wiping the remaining tears away with the back of his hand. “Bio-chemical engineering. Creating Sunkist was for my thesis project.” Normally Tommy would be more then willing to infodump about the topic but he found his energy to be draining fast.

“What the fuck, that’s cooler than mine was. Us nerds in the Theoretical Physics department didn’t do any crazy shit like that,” Gordon said.

“Bold of you to assume I was a nerd, G-Gordon. I was the craziest guy in the frat house,” Tommy said.

Gordon’s memory vaguely recalls Tommy’s insistence that he “do something crazy” when drinking Darnold’s Potion of Grow Gun Arm.

“You know what, yeah, surprisingly I can see that image vividly in my head,” Gordon said. “Real talk though…” he said changing the subject and putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Are you- uh, ok? Like feeling better?”

Tommy was quiet for a second, eyes flickering down to look at his fidgeting hands in his lap, before replying with, “I’m ok. N-not great, I don’t think, but I will be.”

Gordon nodded. “Tommy, if there’s one nugget of wisdom that I have to share, it’s that healing takes time, things usually turn out to be ok in the end. No matter what’s going on with Benrey…it'll be alright, I’m sure.” Gordon patted his shoulder for emphasis, “not the best advice out there but it’s the best I can come up with straight off the dome. And I don’t wanna seem like I didn’t try to help you out."

Tommy laughed gently, “Thank you Mr. Fr- uh, thank you Gordon. You did help. Even if- if your advice was a bit cheesy.”

“Whatever man, you can’t blame me for trying,” Gordon laughed, playfully shoving Tommy where his hand had previously rested on the other man’s shoulder. Tommy laughed in return. He only noticed the warmth of Gordon’s touch once it was gone.

Tommy absentmindedly noticed the time on the wall clock in Gordon’s apartment. Jesus, 11:30? When did it get so late? The older scientist really hoped he wasn’t overstaying his welcome; While he would love to just stay here and joke around, he had already bothered Mr. Freeman enough and was already exhausted.

“I- I’m probably gonna head back home now, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Tommy said, standing up from his spot next to Gordon.

Gordon nodded. He had the passing thought of offering for Tommy to stay but… maybe that was a step too far. ‘Tommy probably wants his space,’ Gordon rationalized to himself.

He nodded, “Alright, don’t let me keep you,” he said, getting up as well to help Tommy gather his belongings. Which, to be honest Tommy didn’t bring much but some snacks for the group, but Gordon just needed an excuse to do anything.

Gordon walked Tommy to the front door of his apartment, like the good host he was, opening the door for him.

“Thanks for coming over Tommy,” he said.

Tommy nodded. “Thank- thank you again for letting me talk about Benrey, I know it was kinda rough there at the end, but if you ever need to talk about anything… I'm here for you as well.”

Gordon smiled, “Thank you Tommy, I'll keep that in mind.”

Tommy smiled in return, “Have a good night G-Gordon,” he said turning to head to his car.

“Goodnight Tommy.” Gordon turns to head back inside, but before he does, he can’t resist one more jab.

“Thought you could teleport?” he calls out teasingly.

Tommy flips him off, which causes Gordon to laugh harder. “Gives me a headache,” Tommy called back, trying and failing keep a straight face.

Gordon laughs as he waves a final goodbye, turning back inside and closing the door after Tommy waves as well. His thoughts race as he gets ready for bed, trying to ignore his fluttering heartbeat as he lays down for the night.

Tommy shuffles his thoughts in his head as he drives home. The emotional rollercoaster of his already draining social interaction meter from the science team, his Benrey guilt, and his small crush on Gordon was just too much for one day. His hands clench and unclench the steering wheel, looking forward to collapsing in bed for the night, hoping his dad won’t notice he'd been crying.

Somewhere, in an interdimensional void far away from this reality, someone begins to shift awake.

#fanfic #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #freelatta

[misc-headcanons]

Hello and thank you for tagging me! Im so happy! ;U; I wanted to request HCs on Sanji and Zoro where they confess their love to a chubby female s/o on the crew but she dont believe them at first and it all ends up in the bed for some NSFW. .///. ( im sorry if its to much, im not good with asks o.o'')

(It’s Sanji’s birthday, so lets give him and Zoro some love :3)

Sanji

Sanji's confession is very sweet and very over-the-top: a bouquet of flowers, a dessert shaped like a heart, and a little poem he wrote himself about just how beautiful he thinks ____ is. 

He wasn't surprised when ____ started to tear up after he'd confessed (she was so lovestruck that she was moved to tears!), but when she asked why he was pulling such a mean prank on her, he realized something was wrong.

He insisted that he was being completely serious, but ____ refused to believe him, insisting that there was no way that someone who loved beautiful women like him would ever fall for someone that looked like her. Sanji legitimately had no idea what she was talking about, but when she gestured towards her stomach his heart sank a bit. He immediately set his bouquet and poem aside to hold her and kiss her cheek:

"____, you are beautiful. Never doubt that."

"No, I'm not! I'm--"

"Kind? Funny? Charming? Soft? Beautiful?" 

He'd gently caress her back, and when ____ finally realized his feelings were genuine, she returned his affection and confessed that she loved him too. 

Over time, their affection and caresses would get more and more intimate, and Sanji shyly asked if they could go somewhere more private. ____ immediately agreed, and the two of them excitedly made their way to the women's cabin (Nami and Robin were both exploring the island the Sunny was docked at), giggling hand-in-hand and exchanging more kisses as they walked like a pair of lovestruck teens.

The two of them spent the evening tenderly making love and softly murmuring praises of each other in between their sighs and moans, and cuddling underneath ____'s blankets before falling asleep together. Nami and Robin walked in after they had fallen asleep, and gave each other a knowing smile before creeping into their own beds to sleep. They'd been waiting for those two to finally acknowledge their love for each other for ages now.

Zoro

Zoro worked up the courage to confess to ____ after much prodding and encouragement from Nami and Usopp, who knew that Zoro had a thing for her before he even realized it. 

He's a lot less elaborate than Sanji; he simply asks to talk to ____ alone in the crow's nest and bluntly says (with a blush on his cheeks) that he loves her. You know…"love" loves her. Romantically and stuff. He has such a way with words, doesn't he?

____ would be taken aback, and then frown at Zoro. Shit, he screwed this up. What did he say that was wrong? 

"You shouldn't joke around like that, Zoro. It's really shitty to tell me a lie like that, just to mess with me."

Zoro furrowed his brows. He wasn't messing with her, he was telling the truth! He insisted that he wasn't lying, and she shook her head.

"Of course you are, don't deny it just because you got caught! You really think I'd believe someone as handsome as you would be attracted to...to this?"

____ pinched a handful of pudge on her stomach, then her arms, and then her lower chin. Zoro was still legitimately confused. What was wrong with her arms and stomach and chin? 

"Why wouldn't I be attracted to you? You're pretty, you're a damn good fighter, and you make me feel...you know, really...happy." 

____ stared at him in silence and when she realized he really was serious, she smiled through a few happy tears and embraced Zoro. Zoro wrapped his arms around her and eventually found the courage to kiss her. She immediately returned the kiss, and the two of them stumbled back onto the couch in the crow's nest as they became more and more entangled with each other. 

The two of them hastily undressed in between kisses and confessed their love for each other in a more...physical manner. When Usopp and Nami searched for the two of them to see how everything turned out, they heard the moans coming from the crow's nest and immediately did a 180 to leave the happy couple alone and give them some privacy.

#one piece #one piece headcanon #one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece scenarios #zoro #sanji #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #female s/o #ns.fw #mine #miss-unny #plus size s/o

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the Back (Part 2)

@a-6-yearold-inside

@crazycookie13o

First Chapter  Next Chapter

Marinette’s mood had lightened over the course of the first lessons. The new student seemed to be okay, despite being a little closed off. But given Lila’s extravaganza, she was glad that Felix appeared a bit more rational. And now that they were deskmates, maybe he wouldn’t want to be mean to her once Lila stringed him along.

When the gong announced the end of the lesson, Adrien intercepted her at the door.

“Marinette! Do you have a minute?”

She was still sullen that he’d been so quiet during the seating dilemma, but nodded anyway. How could she refuse these puppy eyes?

“Sure! What is it?”

“Oh, I just wanted to thank you for helping Felix. You’re a great class rep, Marinette.”

Immediately, her face grew warm.

“Y-You think so? Glank you- I mean, Thank you, I’m glad to hear that!”

“I’m just bit worried about Lila” he continued and her heart sank. “She seemed really upset after you shut her idea down.”

She looked away, trying to control her breathing. Lila this, Lila that. Don’t you dare make her life anything other than perfect.

“That was not my intention. I just thought someone should make clear people have their own opinions.”

He beamed.

“That’s so nice of you, really! I’m sure she appreciates it, deep down.” he praised, probably missing her point by lightyears. “But... We don’t want her to get akumatized again, do we? You know how prone she is to Hawkmoth’s influence.”

“She is?”, asked a voice from behind her. Felix has appeared in the door, followed by a smug looking Lila. Apparently, she knew exactly what was going on and was more than happy about it. Well, this time she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

“Yes”, Marinette answered, looking directly at Lila. “As of late, Lila seems to be quite the illusionist as Akuma. I wonder why Hawkmoth always comes back at that.”

She heard Adrien behind her gulp as more of they’re classmates began to crowd around them. To her surprise, Lila gave her a quick smirk before putting on a pitiful face and letting her shoulders drop.

“It’s true”, she lamented. “Hawkmoth has been targeting me a lot, lately. Maybe it’s because... no, of course not.”

“What?” Alya asked readily, her journalistic eagerness shining through. “What is it?”

Lila looked away.

“Well, usually, Ladybug always watches out for me, since I’m her best friend. But I guess she has a lot to do recently, if so many akumas get through to me. Or maybe she’s... maybe she’s just not as dedicated to her job anymore? Who knows?”

Felix next to her frowned.

“You are Ladybug’s best friend? I would’ve thought it was that Chat Noir.”

Lila chuckled and smiled up at him.

“Don’t be silly!” She looked at Adrien. “Chat Noir is her lover.”

In false alarm, she put a hand on her mouth and widened her eyes.

“Oops!”

Alya was on her immediately.

“I knew it! How long have they been dating? Who confessed first? I need details!”

Marinette meanwhile was seething. But Adrien’s reaction put the cherry on top: despite knowing she wasn’t actually Ladybug’s friend, he perked up and got a little closer.

“You really think so?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to tell you that...”, Lila trailed off and Marinette scoffed, “But every friend of mine is a friend of Ladybug, so it should be alright!”

She made eye contact with Adrien.

“Ladybug is in love with Chat Noir. I mean, of course she is, she’d never date a civilian, after all. But she never actually confessed to him, she thinks he doesn’t like her back.”

“So you mean, they’re still pining for each other? How dramatic!”

“Are you really sure about that?”, Adrien went on, his eyes surprisingly hopeful. Marinette nudged him in the side, trying to remind him of Lila’s history.

“Well...”, Lila said with a mischievous smirk, “that’s actually something I know from watching them closely. You know that Ladybug likes to keep things professional, right, Adrien?”

He nodded hesitantly.

“And if she were in a relationship with Chat Noir, that might look highly unprofessional, right?”

Adrien nodded, a bit quicker this time. Marinette realized what Lila was doing: by letting him confirm every true step of her lie, she legitimated the result, even if it was as absurd as Ladybug and Chat Noir being in love.

“But then again,” Lila continued, “She does flirt with him at every opportunity, doesn’t she?”

“She’s right!”, Alya spouted. “They banter, they land on top of each other all the time, were totally cuddling in Glaciator, and Ladybug even kissed him, twice!”

“But that was both times under the influence of an Akuma!”, Marinette tried to reason, to no avail. Lila was prepared.

“Interesting, right? Every time the chance presents itself, she goes with the most romantic solution she can think of.”

“That’s not- Ladybug isn’t- It just doesn’t make sense!”

She was going to lose her mind, and Lila seemed well aware. Innocently she leaned her head to the side and looked pensive.

“Marinette, could it be... that you’re jealous?”

She smirked when Marinette’s jaw dropped.

“Are you in love with Chat Noir?”

“What?! No!”

Adrien looked at her in confusion.

“But didn’t you confess to h-“

“Adrien!”

“Wait a sec, Marinette confessed to Chat Noir? When?! And why didn’t you tell us, girl?!”

“Yeah, that would’ve been so important for the Ladyblog!”

“I thought you told us everything.”

“I...”, Marinette stammered, officially backed into a corner, “I-It was nothing like that! And how do you even know that?!”

Adrien shrank.

“I, uhm, Chat Noir... told me?”

A long, frustrated sigh interrupted the heated conversation and Felix pushed through the students cornering Marinette. With an annoyed glance at Adrien, he shook his head and stepped next to Marinette.

“If you are done gossiping about heroes that apparently are personally friends with everybody at this school,” he scoffed, “Marinette here was planning on showing me around.”

Surprised she looked up at him, and she was not the only one.

“But we were just-“, Alya tried, but Felix left no room for discussion.

“-talking about things that don’t interest me in the slightest. Maybe ask Agreste if he has any other friends whose privacy he can breach, Marinette is currently busy. I’d like to see this school now.”

Without another glance at anybody he strode onwards, obviously expecting Marinette to follow. She didn’t hesitate for a second, desperate to flee.

“Maybe I could show you around instead?”, Lila offered from behind them. “That way Marinette and Alya could finish their-“

“Not interested”, Felix interrupted, and Marinette gaped at him in awe.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she caught up to him.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, “I really owe you something.”

Felix only threw her short look before staring straight ahead again.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I was simply bored by their petty gossip and decided I could return your favor from earlier. We’re even now.”

“Oh”

They walked in silence for a moment, until a small, satisfied grin crept into his face.

“Plus,” he said, “I couldn’t waste a chance to call Agreste out on his bullshit.”

“You know each other?”

“We’ve met.”

That answer was... interesting. Deciding not to press the matter, she looked ahead again.

“Well, Thank you anyway. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cried, probably. People tend to react with tears to uncomfortable situations.”

She snorted.

“Nah. I’m more the type to start yelling.”

“Plausible. It seems to be the only effective measure with these kind of students.”

She shrugged, trying to stay positive.

“They’re not bad, usually. They just get carried away from time to time.”

He rolled his eyes.

“How comforting.”

“Don’t worry, there’s... calmer people too.” She has an idea. “Do you want to see the art room? Nathaniel and Marc should be there right now.”

He hesitated.

“You don’t actually have to show me around. I was just providing an opportunity for your escape.”

“I know.”, she smiled. “And now I’m providing you with one, in case you ever need it.”

With that, she walked ahead towards an open door. He watched her for a moment, before sighing and following her.

-

“He was right, I shouldn’t have pried.”, Alya admitted remorsefully. “Especially not in front of everyone.” Lila forced herself to look understanding. If she wanted to keep Dupain-Cheng in line, she had to isolate her from her support system and Alya played a crucial part in that. Her boyfriend would probably tag along, and Adrien would be docile as long as she was smart about this.

“It’s not your fault. If Marinette had told you from the start, this wouldn’t have happened. You’re her best friend after all! You have the right to know what’s going on in her life.”

She frowned.

“Did you have any arguments recently?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing, I... I’m just worried she doesn’t want to be that close to you anymore.”

Alya’s eyes widened.

“What? Where’d you get that idea? We are BFFs!”

Lila shrugged.

“It’s probably nothing, you’re right.”

She didn’t have to elaborate, Alya was already hooked. It didn’t take a minute for doubt to settle in.

“Seriously, Lila, why do you think that?”

“Well... I don’t know her as well as you, of course, but she’s been acting a little distant lately. First, she’s angry at you when we changed the seats, even though we did it because I can’t hear well. Then, she keeps secrets from you, and just now, she refused to sit with you. Mysterious, don’t you think? I wonder what else she’s hiding from you...”

Alya slouched, upset. It was almost too easy.

“You’re right...”, she murmured defeatedly. “And just now, she ran away from me as soon as Felix appeared...”

That reminded her of something.

“I’ll give you some space now.”, Lila announced. “Do you mind if I head back to the classroom? I forgot to take my meds, and if I wait too long, my hearing might get even worse.”

Of course Alya didn’t object and soon, Lila was back in their classroom. Alone.

Perfect.

Careful not to cause any mess that might give her away later, she went to the last row.

Felix’ bag was an old school leather briefcase, probably worth more than her entire wardrobe. It’s clasp however was as easy to open as any other bag’s.

Curiously she looked inside. The interior was made up of fine, grey fabric, as were the pocket for his thermos and his wallet. She peaked inside to check his ID and noted his birthday. He owned at least ten different ink pens and pencils, so she took out the most fancy one and shoved it into her pocket. She cursed as a bit of ink got on her fingers, but it wasn’t bad enough to deter her.

Next were the books. Two were regular school books, but one seemed to be a calendar. She skimmed it.

Photo shoots, violin lessons, not that different from Adrien’s.

(She’d pickpocketed his last week already, but since he was escorted everywhere by his bodyguard, it wasn’t of much use to her.)

She took some photos, just in case, from his events to his contacts. His mother’s phone number would be useful, and his assistant was convenient as well. Just when she was about to put it back and close the briefcase, something caught her eye. A small, plain notebook, the only thing that didn’t match with his bag.

Intrigued she opened it. Was it some sort of diary?

She wasn’t that lucky, of course, but her find was valuable nonetheless. It was... poetry.

Short poems, sometimes entire ballads and calligraphy practices, all in a neat, orderly handwriting.

She read the first thing that caught her eye. And the second. And the third.

It was mesmerizing. His words were so artful, so skilled and eloquent, but still fascinatingly natural. She had to force herself to stop reading before the bell would ring. Hastily, she took as much photos as she could, before putting it back.

After short contemplation however, she changed her mind and placed it in Marinette’s pink backpack. That pigtailed brat was already far too close to Felix, and she couldn’t afford her ruining her credibility beforehand.

Satisfied with herself, she left the room and scrolled through her phone. Felix would be hard to crack, no doubt. He wasn’t naive like Adrien, and he didn’t bother with politeness if he didn’t like someone. She wouldn’t be able to use social norms or peer pressure on him. But his family’s brand was internationally known, full of prestige and their monetary worth exceeded the Agreste’s by far. Felix Leanne might be the best (and most handsome) opportunity she would ever get in her life.

She clutched her phone a little tighter.

And the one with the greatest personal allure.

- - -

To be continued

#miramu writes #welcome to the back #wttb #miraculous ladybug #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #felix leanne #felinette fanfic #felinette month #ml felix

[jeff-stillcoolasazombie]

The Waiter and the Hotel Heiress- Chapter 2

a Kristanna and Eloise at Christmastime crossover event!

Length: 2741 words

Rating: K+ 

Also read on AO3

A/N: I am clearly booboo the fool if I thought I could start and finish writing an entire Christmas au less than a week before Christmas. I’m really busy the next few days, but I have nothing else in my head except for this story right now, and I have it all mapped out. I will have the whole thing done and posted by New Year’s at the very latest. 

Chapter 2: Red Roses

After gently interrogating the housekeepers the night before, Eloise had determined that Kristoff and Anna belonged together. Yes, Anna was engaged to Hans, but Eloise still sensed there was something off about him. And anyway, what Kristoff and Anna had was true love, and what was more perfect and romantic than literal, actual true love?

Still, if she was going to convince them of that, Eloise would need to find legitimate reasons (as if true love needed reason for anything) for the two of them to connect.

But first, she needed to be absolutely sure that Anna still cared for Kristoff. Although Eloise was pretty certain that she did.

Naturally, with the nuptials mere days away, Eloise knew to find Anna in the parlor that morning for a dress fitting. “Hi Anna,” she said, strolling right up to the podium Anna was standing on. “Gosh, fancy running into you here.”

Anna gave the child a polite smile. “Hello, Eloise. What do you think of my dress?” She was wearing an ivory colored satin gown, the flared mermaid hem currently being altered with pins by a parlor seamstress. 

Eloise thought Anna looked divine, but only gave a cursory glance. “Oh fine, I guess. Only I’ve been thinking, and aren’t you afraid that you might be rushing into things a little?” She began wandering around the small section of the room, pretending to be more interested in other bridal things as she spoke.

A confused look fell across Anna’s face. “You mean the wedding?” she clarified. “A couple of days ago you thought it was the most romantic thing you’d ever heard.”

“Well, it is,” Eloise said, trying not to back-peddle. A Christmas wedding was the most romantic thing Eloise had ever heard of, but forget whatever she said or thought. Right now she needed to focus on the task at hand, which was to test the waters and see how deep Anna’s feelings for Kristoff still lingered. Eloise continued, “I mean, when you’re absolutely sure it’s the right thing, because you really know the guy. Like really, really, really know him.” She paused in front of a floor length mirror to look back at Anna’s reflection. “Like you know Kristoff, for instance,” she said nonchalantly.

“You’re quite fond of him, aren’t you?” Anna said, laughing.

“Of course. He’s my best friend,” Eloise answered happily. And she listed off all the reasons Kristoff was so great. “He’s funny and charming and he lets me win every sword fight.” That last one might have been a bit biased toward six-year-olds, so Eloise added, “And no matter how tired he is, he’ll always play me a song on the piano.”

Anna beamed. “Did he teach you the little dances that go with them?” she asked, her face lighting up at the memory of playing music with Kristoff. 

Then right there, Anna hopped off the dress podium (to the seamstress’s dismay) and started tap dancing with Eloise, humming a silly tune before ending in a little surprise twirl. The two girls giggled.

“Oh, he could make me laugh so hard with that,” Anna said full of glee. She lowered herself down a bit to meet the six-year-old’s eye. “Sometimes, I’d sneak down after the parties were over and we’d put on these little shows together, just the two of us. And I remember this one time we—“

Anna stopped suddenly, catching a glimpse in the mirror at herself in a beautiful bridal gown. She was supposed to be preparing to marry Hans, not reminiscing over ancient memories about Kristoff. Her face fell back into a neutral expression at the thought.

“Well. It doesn’t really matter now,” Anna said with a sad smile. She rose back up to the podium. “We’ve both moved on.”

Eloise frowned, for only a split second, before changing the topic. “Yeah. Good ol’ Kristoff,” the girl said. “Only I wish I could figure out who his girlfriend is.”

Anna’s head perked up. “His girlfriend?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Eloise started, playing with some veils to seem distracted from the leading comments. “But this morning I was in the kitchen, and I heard him ordering flowers over the phone. I mean, what else could I think? You don’t just send red roses to just anyone.” She glanced at Anna’s reflection in the mirror again, searching for any hint in the woman’s face.

“Red roses?” Anna herself had received an arrangement of beautiful red roses just that morning. It seemed too coincidental that Kristoff would’ve ordered red roses for some other girl, right? 

Eloise knew it wasn’t coincidence at all. Kristoff hadn’t sent anyone roses; in fact, Anna’s roses were delivered by Eloise herself. But sometimes true love needed a little help. 

———

FIVE YEARS EARLIER, THE SAME DAY

Kristoff wasn’t at all sure which university the Christmas party belonged to, but he immediately found that it didn’t matter in the slightest. Most parties—especially around the holidays—had the same general decorative layout and duties, he learned.

True to her word, Anna was waiting by the entrance of the Gold room at 1:45, just like they’d agreed. She was wearing the same pink blouse from that morning but now with a brown skirt, her red hair in an elaborate braid. At least she had more appropriate clothes on now. She waved at Kristoff giddily when she saw him, and he gave her a polite smile in return. All of the other employees greeted her as she walked past, but other than that no one really regarded her more. It was as if her presence was a natural occurrence and expected without question. She was just another person helping out. 

And yet, every single task she performed with immense cheer, Kristoff noticed. She wanted to help, but more so she was glad to, it made her happy to help. Kristoff smiled every time he looked up to see Anna setting up some table or decoration or another. Her family was so wealthy, she could afford to spend her time doing whatever she wanted, but instead she was helping the waitstaff in the ballroom, because she liked doing it. Because she thought it was fun, she had said. 

Anna was not allowed to stay for the party, however; she was escorted up to her room by a well-dressed older woman Kristoff didn’t know around four, about an hour before the party was set to begin. Despite being the heiress of the entire hotel, Anna would not be allowed the fun excitement of attending the actual party. It seemed that there might be many things, perhaps, that Anna wasn’t allowed to do.

Along with setting up for the party, Kristoff was also expected to serve trays of food and drinks during the evening. Normally, Kristoff was not supposed to work such long shifts, from morning till night, but larger events—particularly during the holidays, when there were so many of them—were more demanding. And considering it was only the third of December, he knew he had a lot of long work days ahead of him. 

The party finally wrapped up around nine, and although Kristoff was exhausted from the mad rush of constantly running to and from the kitchen to provide food and Christmas ambience for such a crowd of people, he was also pumping with adrenaline. It was hard work, and there was never a moment of rest, but it was interesting just being in the same vicinity as such high society. Kristoff wasn’t sure if he would ever desire to be a part of this elite someday, based on some of the conversations he had eavesdropped on; no, just experiencing it by way of waitstaff was enough.

Since it was his first day, a senior waiter named Robert had taken Kristoff under his wing during the event, teaching him the ropes and showing him how to tear down the ballroom afterward. “Almost every party, from set-up to clean-up, goes exactly the same,” Robert told him.

At ten fifteen, they were just finishing clearing off the tables of their floral arrangements when Kristoff noticed someone standing in the corner of the room. He suddenly realized it was Anna, watching the staff attentively but not reaching out to help.

“Does she always spy on the servers after parties?” Kristoff asked Robert quietly, nodding towards Anna.

Robert looked up her subtly. “Not always, but often enough that no one ever acknowledges it,” he said.

She stayed there waiting until finally Kristoff was finished and went over to her where she was leaning against the wall now. “Isn’t it a bit late for girls your age to be down here unchaperoned?” he asked teasingly. He found that the party atmosphere had given him new confidence, and spending the afternoon along side her had made him even more at ease around her.

Her arms were crossed, and she feigned offense at his remark. “Excuse you, I’m not some lost ingenue with no idea of what time it is. My father happens to be the owner of this hotel, and if I am to take over for him someday, I need to be aware of every little thing that goes on.” She gave Kristoff a wry yet encouraging smile.

“Really?” he said coolly. “So then what’s going on at the Plaza for the rest of the night?” Part of him said it to be funny and to hear what crazy excuse Anna would come up with, but another part of him felt his energy waning. Still he humored her. “You’ve only been standing here for the past few minutes, so you must have some kind of ulterior motive by coming down.”

Anna smirked. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking of heading over to the Terrace room, to check on things over there,” she answered. “Would you like to come?”

There hadn’t been anything going on in the Terrace room that day, and she knew it. “What do you want in there?” he asked confused.

“Would you like to join me?” she asked him again. “Seeing as how I’m apparently in need of a chaperone,” she added.

Kristoff blushed. “That was a— I didn’t mean to—“ He stopped talking and took stock in the heiress’s proposal. She wanted to hang out with him. A situation like this could lead into scandalous territory, especially for him as the male and the employee. Still, it sounded like fun, and Anna had promised him that morning that she wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“Sure,” he finally said, giving a small grin. “Just let me clock out.” The least he could do if he was going to sneak around the hotel with the owner’s daughter was to clock out on time.

Anna followed Kristoff into the break area of the kitchen (he had forgotten she was allowed pretty much anywhere) where he punched his card, returned his waiter’s jacket and bowtie, and reached for his own coat. He caught Anna staring at his torso, and he remembered the dress shirt he was wearing was just a bit too tight on him, revealing the tone and outline of his chest. He debated removing the dress shirt in favor of just the t-shirt he had on underneath. Maybe this was actually a bad idea. 

But before Kristoff could change his mind, Anna had grabbed him by the forearm and was guiding him through the kitchen to the Terrace room.

Kristoff had only briefly peeked in the Terrace room earlier, just to familiarize himself with all the ballrooms. The Terrace room was one of the larger event spaces at the Plaza and featured a grand piano in one corner. The lights in the room were dimmed, since there had been no event in there that evening.

“What are we doing here, Anna?” he asked once they got there.

“Can you play piano?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I only know the guitar.” His aunt and uncle had gifted him an old guitar when he was a boy and playing it became a happy solace when he tired of mountain life.

“Oh, well, guitar and piano are very similar, I’ve heard,” Anna said. “I can teach you.”

She sat down at the piano bench, and when he didn’t immediately join her, she furiously motioned for him to sit to her left.

Kristoff did so but hesitantly. No, she wouldn’t purposely get him into trouble, but they were still two teenagers sitting very close together on a piano bench. As he sat closer to her, he noticed she smelled like lavender and roses. Meanwhile, he smelled faintly of sweat and grilled chicken.

“We’ll play the same notes, but I’ll take the high part and you can do the low,” she said, stretching her hands lightly across the keys. He copied her, focusing on her fingers instead of her face or her scent. 

Anna showed him which keys corresponded with which notes and taught him some simple chords. She then taught him how to play “Jingle Bells”, both just the melody and the full song. 

“How long have you been playing piano?” he asked her after about twenty minutes. Kristoff could tell she was downplaying her own skills to teach him the basics and make him less self-conscious.

“Since I was four,” she said without looking up at him. “I stopped taking lessons when I was twelve, so now I just play for fun.”

He smirked. “Do you do this often? Sneak down here and play for fun?”

Anna stopped playing now and looked at his face. “Fine, you caught me,” she said with a reserved expression. “This isn’t a regular thing for me. But I wanted to get to know you better, and I thought this would be a fun way of letting loose.”

Kristoff tried to hide his surprise at her response. She wasn’t just wanting to have fun after the party. She specifically wanted to have fun with him. Was that also not a common thing? Did she pick an employee at random every once in a while to hang out with?

He studied Anna’s face. She had the biggest eyes he had ever seen, the most perfect shade of robin’s eye blue. He noticed a light dusting of freckles all over her blushed ivory skin. And with his body so close to hers, Kristoff realized just how petite she was compared to him, like he could cradle her entire body in his arms alone. She was so beautiful.

In the distance, Kristoff heard the chime of a clock strike eleven. “It’s getting late,” he finally said, stopping himself from continuing his suggestive thoughts about her. He got up from the bench. “I should be going home, and it’s probably best for you to go back to your suite before your family notices you’re gone.”

Anna gave a small smile and sighed. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “Thank you for humoring me. But at least you have a new skill to practice in your down time,” she said, gesturing to the piano.

Kristoff laughed and helped her up. They walked back together through the staff corridors—the best way, Anna assured him, to navigate the hotel after hours. He guided her to the freight elevator, which she insisted on using. Never mind that the service elevator would be utilized by any housekeepers making their evening rounds.

Anna leaned towards Kristoff as she waited for the elevator. “You did very well today,” she said, “very good work all around.”

He realized that she was grading his work ethic and laughed. “Glad to hear I’m doing a good job at my job.” 

Her eyes lit up with hope now. “Same time tomorrow night?” she asked happily. She did not ask about room service in the morning or setting up for events during the day. Those encounters would be guaranteed. Late night piano sessions were not.

He looked down at her, then past her at a counter with floral arrangements leftover from the university party. Without thinking, he pulled out a rose and gave it to her. Anna cupped it in her small hands.

“See you tomorrow, Anna,” he said. 

And with his first shift at the Plaza complete, Kristoff knew he had many more exhausting days ahead of him. But they would all be worth it if he got to spend just an hour every evening being with her.

#kristanna #eloise at christmastime #fanfiction #crossover fic #au fic #I made this

[nerdygaymormon]

Of all sexual orientations, the bisexual population experiences the highest rates of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts.Bisexual females exhibit the highest suicide scores. Bisexual girls are the most vulnerable, with nearly 48 percent saying they had considered taking their own lives...Bisexual individuals also reported higher rates of mental illness...Only about 28% of bisexuals say all or most of the important people in their life know they are bisexual. By comparison 70-80% of gay and lesbian participants say all or most of the important people in their life know they are homosexual.

————————————————————

Media

Representation matters. It sounds trite, but it’s true...Bisexuals are often portrayed as greedy, selfish, hypersexualized people due to the fact our sexual orientations are not exclusive to one gender.

————————————————————

Passing Privilege

Passing privilege is the idea that when people interact with you on a regular basis they assume you are either heterosexual or homosexual—heterosexual being the more privileged of the two. Passing privilege, like the trans experience of passing privilege, is a two-edged sword. Passing privilege also comes with erasure...

Bisexuality comes with the trauma of being homosexual with the bonus of being told that because you have “hetero-passing privilege” your trauma isn’t worth acknowledgment or treatment... The reality is my “passing privilege” is not my privilege—it’s my bi erasure.

————————————————————

Friendships

I cannot tell you how many friends I have lost over the years due to being openly queer...If our friendship was contingent on my staying in the closet, perhaps it’s not a friendship I should want to continue. However, that doesn’t change the fact that it hurts deeply to lose friends I’ve had for years.

————————————————————

Sexual Assault and Consent

According to the findings in Victimization by Sexual Orientation Survey, in comparison to heterosexual women, bisexual women are 2x’s as likely to experience sexual assault and 3x’s as likely to be raped. Bisexual women have a 46.1% chance of being forcibly raped. This rate is 2.6x’s higher than straight women and 3.5x’s higher than lesbian women.

————————————————————

Never Queer Enough

Bisexuals are often perceived as not being “queer enough”...Bisexuals are only “half queer”...

I’m not 50% straight and 50% gay. This assumption causes a lot of stress to bisexuals because it assumes we don’t fully belong in either category... This is why bisexuals are often perceived as never “gay enough” and never “straight enough”... In fact, it leads many bisexuals to believe we don’t belong anywhere. Our hetero-privilege keeps us feeling just enough guilt to refrain from expressing the trauma induced by homophobia, biphobia, and monosexism...

We bear the burden of homophobia, biphobia, oppositional sexism, monosexism, misogyny, and traditional sexism. On top of that, because many of us are attracted to trans, non-binary, and intersex folks, we aren’t trusted or taken seriously because our orientation doesn't exclude any gender. This is monosexism. It means that persons sexually attracted to only one gender are somehow superior to persons attracted to multiple or all genders. 

————————————————————

Sexual Fluidity

I’m not certain as to where this attitude came from, but there is a notion that sexuality is fixed because you were “born that way”...

There have been times in my life I thought I was exclusively homosexual, and other times I thought I was exclusively heterosexual. During these times I wasn’t confused about what I wanted sexually. I knew quite well what I wanted. My wants simply changed. While I certainly don’t presume sexual fluidity as a universal phenomenon or a reason to impose conversion therapy onto fixed homosexuals, I do think sexually fluid bisexuality is just as legitimate of an orientation as fixed monosexuality...

I like what I like, when I like it. That doesn’t mean I always get what I want, but it also doesn’t mean I’m confused about what I want. It means my sexuality is fluid. I’m adaptable and my sexual attraction is not limited to a fixed type of genitalia. Granted, some bisexuals are more fluid than others. It is not my intention to suggest that all bisexuals are as fluid as myself. I also do not intend to convey that I think sexual fluidity is better than sexually fixed orientations.

————————————————————

Sexism

There have been many books written on sexism, misogyny, gender supremacy, and patriarchy, so I will not elaborate much here. However, it is worth noting that sexism and misogyny is a lived experience queer women face in addition to the queerphobia we are confronted with.

————————————————————

Religion and Theology

Asking me to choose between my Mormonism and sexual orientation is to strip me of essential aspects of my sense of self. It is quite literally an existential death. If I cannot be queer and Mormon here on earth, nor in the eternities, what I’m really hearing is there is no way for me to authentically exist...Furthermore, if there is such a thing as being Mormon and queer on earth it has been made clear by ecclesiastical authority that I cannot be queer and sealed to my loved ones in the highest degree of celestial glory.

It hurts. It hurts deeply...

My LDS community has taught me that the words “I love you” are often followed by a kick to the ribs. They kindly whisper “We all have trials” as the back of their hand bruises my cheek... Jesus said to turn the other cheek and I do my best to follow that teaching, but at some point a girl must move out of the line of fire. I never knew the words “I love you” could cause so much pain, trauma, and PTS... I no longer want to hear the words “I love you” from a general authority—those words are poison. They would love us to death.

The prevailing message is “You don’t exist in this world or in the next. Your best option is to die and hope to be greeted by a merciful God who will change you into something you’re not. Suicide will only be your first death, God’s transfiguration of your body and soul into a ‘perfected celestial being’ will be your second death. Then you will truly no longer exist.”

————————————————————

Community

Identity is a symbiotic formation. We are intimately bound to our perceptions of each other and we are shaping and being shaped in a reciprocal process of becoming...

In short, bisexual women do not see themselves reflected in their community. If humans are social creatures, which I believe we are, this problem is more than an existential threat of her identity. It is the existential death of her identity.

————————————————————

Hope

I have a family. The acceptance I receive from my family, particularly my husband and my sister, is life-saving... “Am I willing to live for my children?” For me, the answer is “yes.”

I have friends. While some of them don’t really understand what I’m experiencing, they are willing to listen. They aren’t perfect, but neither am I.

I have activism...My voice. My journal. My experience.  My pen. The continuation of my existence is my activism. Activism need not be epic to be influential. Existing is a good start. They will never accept us if they don’t have to look at us.

I have God. Others are free to mock me for my belief in God, but God is useful and powerful for me. God, even as a fiction, can be inspiring. If you don’t love your God, consider telling yourself a new story, a better fiction... No one knows a damn thing about God, so if your God isn’t bringing you joy and happiness, give yourself permission to liken the scriptures to yourself. 

I have hope...I hope for change. Even if it is a false hope, it’s a hope that keeps me living.

————————————————————

As members of the queer community, we can change the statistics. Be the author of your story. Defy the statistics by flourishing.

#tw suicide #bisexual #queer mormon #queerstake #blaire ostler

[oscar-isaacs-number-one-bitch]

“Bad Times at the El Royale” Movie Review

Bad Times at the El Royale is the sophomore effort from writer and director by Drew Goddard (The Cabin in the Woods) and stars Jeff Bridges, Cynthia Erivo, Dakota Johnson, Jon Hamm, Lewis Pullman, and Chris Hemsworth. In this film, a group of total strangers all stay at the same place: the El Royale hotel, which sits split in half by the state border between California and Nevada. As the film progresses, the characters get to know each other in ways that may seem unusual to others, but are truly only the tip of the iceberg. No one is who they say they are, including the hotel manager, Miles; perhaps even the hotel has secrets of its own. With the walls closing in and everyone getting increasingly antsy, can the guests solve this mystery before it’s too late?

This is the first Drew Goddard film I’ve seen; having not personally been privy to The Cabin in the Woods, I had absolutely no threshold or expectation for exactly the kind of film that I was in for in terms of style or script. I was curious as to how the plot would play out with the marketing and trailers having given basically nothing of it away, even accidentally. I’m very happy to say that not only did I thoroughly enjoy this movie, I enjoyed how much it enjoyed itself (to a point). Drew Goddard is an excellent screenwriter, and it is no small thing that he has an immensely talented ensemble cast to help the writing along to reach its full potential. The actual narrative plays itself out as a Hateful Eight-esque set-up a bit more in line with a “what if Clue, but the 70’s” aesthetic wherein the story opens with a mysterious dialogue-free sequence meant to shock and intrigue the audience, and then follows each character around on increasingly elaborate plot threads that one can discern weave together at various points if you’re paying enough attention and eventually piece together most of what’s going on just-too-late for the third act to really kick things into high gear.

This approach to storytelling, while having been done a few times before, is always pretty fun both as an actual exploration and exercise of mystery filmmaking and as a genuine throwback to the earlier days of films that let themselves take their time and allow the audience to relish in the fun of trying to figure it out themselves. And although the actual script (while clever) does get a bit too convoluted and show-offy for its own good on a cinematic level, it continues to work and impress enough on a theatrical level that I found myself struggling to care whether or not the film was as smart as it thinks it is because I was just having too much damn fun with it. That’s the strength of a great script, and one that I would absolutely lump in with the great “theatre films” currently under the umbrella of my cinematic vocabulary (i.e. The Hateful Eight, Thoroughbreds, etc.). It’s strange that thus far, Tarantino is the only director that I know of who continues to make that genre of film with this kind of scale, but this is a welcome surprise entry in a film category which hopefully only grows as the years go by (seriously we need more films that play out like plays with increasingly more elaborate and creative but noticeably exclusive cinematic tricks to help the story along – the genre really is full of untapped potential). The productions design is also gorgeous, with 70’s period detail just packed into every frame, of which there are many great ones (including a shot that follows Hamm down a long corridor that’s bound to be taught in film classes as a showcase for how to make your shot increasingly more interesting the longer it goes on).

The performances, of course, are all top-notch. Every member of the cast is pulling out all the stops they’ve got. Jeff Bridges has always been a reliable actor for playing a broken man who can barely remember how to talk to other people but seems warm enough, and you can tell Jon Hamm is just having all the fun in the world with the dialogue his character is given. Dakota Johnson is also really quite good here; it’s nice to be reminded that she’s a legitimate actress and not just one half of the two members of 50 Shades that have any discernable talent. In fact, the only real surprises among the cast’s swell of talent are Cynthia Erivo (here making her film debut after transitioning over from Broadway and television) and Lewis Pullman, who plays the hotel manager. Erivo is an excellent screen presence, continuing to surprise and delight with each new plot turn until one has no idea what she’ll end up doing next. Unfortunately it ends up being nothing quite as exciting as what most of the other characters are given to finish with, but that’s more the fault of an overloaded (but still clever) script than her as an actress. She holds her own well enough against titans like Jeff Bridges that one might think she’d been acting with legends like him for a while.

Pullman too has his own pretty great turn as the hotel manager. I can’t precisely remember what it is I’ve seen him in, but his acting ability has noticeably grown since then; what he’s asked to deliver in the way of lines is both hilarious and immensely disturbing, and Pullman rides that line with more natural balance than a tightrope walker in Cirque de Solei. I won’t say much about Chris Hemsworth’s character because I believe that knowing as little about him going in as possible increases the joy of watching him outperform everyone else like the second coming of Brando, but suffice it to say, he steals every scene he’s given right out from under them as if he’d just learned the secret to always winning Texas hold ‘em. It truly is an incredible thing to witness.

Where the films finds its flaws though, are in its monstrously clever script. Now, don’t get me wrong, I mean every word I’ve written on it thus far, but still it must be addressed that in order to have a clever script, it also needs to remain clear in transition from scene to scene, and occasionally Drew Goddard’s mystery boner tends to run away with itself and lose the audience in the process. It still remains fun, but that fun sometimes gives way to a bit of confusion as some decisions either in the editing room or in the script itself take the audience out of the current moment to show them the relevance of that moment to the broader story in terms of timeline or character motivation. It’s only in the third act when this stops happening, and upon reflection, it probably could have stood to happen a little earlier (though exactly where I do not know).

Following this train of thought, the second act itself is pretty long and while I certainly enjoyed watching the actors show off that they can act like nobody’s business, some of those scenes placed in the separate rooms could have stood to be a little bit shorter. I was never bored, per se, but I did start to feel those scenes being stretched out a bit too long. Perhaps this was done as a way to increase the character developments or tease further mystery, but to me, it just felt a little overdrawn. As well, there doesn’t seem to be any legitimate relevance to the idea of the hotel being literally split in half by the California/Nevada state line. There are some general rules that get addressed early on about gambling laws and monetary values, but other than that, the idea of the state line division doesn’t actually factor into the plot at all, and ultimately feels like it just Goddard trying to be clever with something he didn’t want to edit out but found no use for. In that vein, there are also one or two plot threads that never get explored or resolved that ultimately feel odd considering every other thread of their type that do get a fair amount of screen time devoted to them, but to say any more would spoil one of the larger surprises of the film, so I’ll just leave it at that.

Still, despite these noticeable (if ultimately irrelevant) flaws, Bad Times at the El Royale is a good time at the movies and gives us a welcome entry in a genre too-often passed up in both in terms of the sheer level of creativity required to play in its sandbox and the ingenuity it takes to explore that labyrinth of creation once brought to life. The performances are excellent and the characters are vibrant among gorgeous period design. It’s weirdly funny, greatly mysterious, bizarrely intriguing, and one of the better pure fun experiences in this cinematic calendar year; definitely recommended, even if only once or twice.

I’m giving “Bad Times at the El Royale” a 7.9/10

#Bad Times at the El Royale #Movie Review #The Friendly Film Fan #Jeff Bridges #Cynthia Erivo #Dakota Johnson #Jon Hamm #Lewis Pullman #Cailee Spaeney #Chris Hemsworth #Movie #Film #Review #2018 #New #Drew Goddard #70's #1970's #Mystery

[kirachama]

more than fake (saeran x reader)

summary: in order to get out of a mixer with your friends on valentine’s you tell them that you actually have a date when you don’t. their enthusiasm prompts you to set up a fake date with saeran. well, at least it’s supposed to be fake... right?

rating: 10+ (warning: it’s long. like. 10k long. why did this happen?)

notes: so this is my (extremely late) valentine’s gift for @twofacedhero for @mysmesecretvalentines‘s event. @twofacedhero‘s been following me for a while so I wanted to do something really nice and it kind of... spiraled out of control which is why it’s so late. i’m not used to writing things this long... ahahaha... anyway, i really do hope you enjoy, dear! thank you so much for your patience following me for so long! T_T i hope you had a good start of the semester!

> link to ao3 <

“You know what’s coming up?”

You gulp, but refrain from answering. Seeing as it’s Heeji, your resident boy crazy romantic, who’s talking she can only mean one thing: Valentine’s Day. You knew it was coming soon. How could you not? It seems like every shop you’ve gone to has some sort of display up, adorn with a variety of flowers, stuffed toys and, of course, chocolate. But it feels like you just celebrated New Years and now it’s almost Valentine’s Day? If it’s going to be like this, summer is going to be on you before you know it.

“Valentine’s Day guys!” she exclaims when no one says anything, her voice a mixture of excitement and frustration. “And since none of us are dating anyone you know what that means, right!? We are drinking!”

“Should we organize another mixer?” another friend, Jieun, suggests. “Just because none of us are dating anyone doesn’t mean that we can’t find anyone.”

Heeji slaps her on the back. “That is a great idea, Jieun! I’ll leave it to you to find us some cuties!”

Everyone else around the table starts cheering and chatting happily about the possibility of meeting someone and it turning to something more. However, you’re nowhere near as excited as they are at the thought of a mixer. You’re not against going out drinking with just your friends, but going to a mixer is not ideal. You haven’t really told them about your secret crush on Saeran yet. But going to a mixer feeling the way you do doesn’t seem fair. Not to you, and not to any person who might be interested in you at that mixer.

“Um…” you squeak and everyone’s eyes are on you. You take a deep breath, “I… can’t go.”

“Whaaat?” Heeji whines loudly. “Why not?”

“I…” you try to think of something to say. There isn’t much you can say to keep Heeji from dragging you to that mixer, but you need to think of something, so you say the first thing that comes to mind. “Actually, the truth is… I have a date!”

Everyone at the table stares at you silently. Do they not believe you? Is it because you’re just saying that now? They all glance amongst themselves before Jieun takes it upon herself to say what everyone must be thinking. “You… Have a date?”

“I-I do!” you answer firmly, there’s no going back now that you’ve said it.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Heeji nearly squeals and grabs you by the hands excitedly, her eyes practically sparkling.

“I was… embarrassed…” you mumble, unable to look her in the eye.

“Oh, you know there’s no need for that!” Jieun interjects encouragingly. “I’m so happy for you though! Don’t worry about coming to the mixer, okay?”

“Ah… Are you sure?” The whole point of your lie was to get you out of this, but seeing your friends so excited over this fake date is tugging hard on your sense of guilt.

“Of course! We don’t want to get in the way of your hot date! Make sure you send us pictures, okay?”

Despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, you nod. Now that it’s gone this far, you have to see this lie through to the end.

That means you need to find a date.

When you get home from meeting up with your friends, Saeran’s in the kitchen eating some ice cream. This is perfect. If you're going to be going on a fake date, you'd much rather it be with him than anyone else. But before you can go on a date with him you’ve got to ask first. “Hey Saeran?”

“Mm?” he responds as he takes a bite.

“…a-are you free on Wednesday?” you stammer, feeling a sudden wave of nerves taking over you. Even though this isn’t supposed to be a real date just asking him is scary enough.

“…yeah, why?”

“Um, well, I was hoping you could maybe do me a favor…”

Saeran puts down his spoon and eyes you curiously. It’s not too often you come around asking for favors, especially from him. When he doesn’t say anything, you realize that he wants you to elaborate before he agrees to help you out. Which seems fair enough.

“So, uh,” you pause for a second to gather up your courage. “ I.. I was… I waswonderingifyoucouldgooutonadatewithme!”

The words come out in more of a flurry than you intend for them to. Saeran looks utterly confused though, meaning you’ll have to ask again. You take a deep breath and speak again, this time a little more slowly. “I was… wondering if you could go on a date with me on Wednesday.”

“…isn’t that Valentine’s Day?”

You nod slowly, feeling a heat slowly encroaching on your face. Truthfully, you’re a bit surprised that he knows, but then again his brother and his fiancee, the most lovey dovey couple that you know, have probably been talking about it.

He stares wordlessly at you, but you see a pink flush rise in his cheeks. Then he looks away, from you and stutters out, “…w-why?”

“Oh… um…” you laugh a bit from embarrassment. You might as well tell him. “Truth is… my friends wanted to go to a mixer that day, but I don’t really want to go, so I told them I was going on a date…”

Saeran doesn’t say anything and you peek over at him. The blush he had going on is now gone, replaced with a moderately annoyed look. After a moment he says, in a rather abrasive tone, “…so you only want to go on a date so you don’t have to go to this mixer?”

If you were going to be perfectly honest, you’d actually like to go on a legitimate date with him. But… you can’t bring yourself to say it, so all you can do is nod.

“…no,” Saeran answers with a sense of finality and stands, empty bowl in hand. He walks over to the sink and begins to wash it instead of just leaving it for someone else.

You sigh, your heart sinking from the rejection. It would have been too easy, too perfect if Saeran had said yes. You’re not sure if you’d been counting on him saying yes, but you don’t really want to ask anyone else… You’ve made your bed, though, so now you’ve got to lie in it. If Saeran won’t go on this date with you that just means you’ve got to find someone else. You reach into your pocket and grab your phone and start to mumble to yourself, “…maybe I’ll ask Zen… or Yoosung… one of them might say yes.”

“What.”

You nearly jump, surprised that Saeran is still in the kitchen. He’s giving you a dirty look that’s a mixture of anger and disbelief. Under the harsh scrutiny, you start to explain yourself,“S-since you said no, I thought I’d maybe ask someone else…”

He continues to glare at you, “…why do you need to go on a date with someone so badly?”

“Because I told my friends I was!” you answer. Maybe it would have been better to not lie to them in the first place… But you can only imagine how mad… or how hurt they’ll be if they find out you lied to get out of the mixer. “…they asked for pictures, so I can’t just say that I went on a date… I need some kind of proof.”

“Mmm…” Saeran’s expression changes as he seems to be mulling something over. Could he be… reconsidering? You don’t really want to get your hopes up in case he’s not, but if he is… After some internal debate, he finally grumbles “…Fine. I’ll do it.”

“R-really?” you can’t help but stare at him. Just a bit ago he seemed very against the idea. And now he’s agreeing? What brought the sudden change of heart? “You sure?”

“…yeah,” he replies, albeit a bit gruffly. You’re just about to cheer but he raises his hand to stop you. It seems him doing this for you comes with conditions. But that’s okay, you figured something like that. “…you need to give me chocolate.”

You blink. Chocolate? That’s all he wants? You’d thought that he’d maybe demand something more of you. Slave for a day or something like that… But then again, Saeran’s got a bit of a sweet tooth and Valentine’s chocolates are pretty darn good. You always like to buy them when they’re discounted after Valentine’s is over. “Okay, I’ll get you some chocolates.”

“No,” Saeran crosses his arms and gives you a smug look. You do not like where this seems to be going. “I want homemade chocolate.”

All the color drains from your face. Homemade chocolate? He can’t be serious, can he? “Saeran, you know as well as I do that I can’t cook to save my life. It’d be better for all of us if I just bought chocolate.”

Saeran merely shrugs. He doesn’t seem to care in the slightest even though he really should. It’s his own health that’s at stake here. “Homemade chocolate or no date.”

You groan, “…it’s your grave that you’re digging.”

He shrugs again and heads back toward his room, “It can’t be that hard. It’s just chocolate.”

You let out a heavy sigh. That’s what he thinks.

“Ugh…” you grumble quietly as you scroll through recipes on your phone in the living room.

Whenever you think of Valentine’s chocolate, the image of a bunch of different bite sized chocolates encased in a giant heart shaped box comes to mind. However, after a simple web search it appears that homemade valentine’s chocolate extends to more than just candies. It includes cookies, cakes, brownies… almost the entire dessert spectrum. You reach up to rub your temple. This too complicated. Why did he have to ask for something homemade? It really would have been so much easier to buy something.

“Whatcha doin’~” Saeyoung’s voice calls from behind and you turn your head to see him peering over your shoulder, looking at your phone.

“I’m… trying to find a good recipe for a Valentine chocolate…” you answer sulkily.

“Oh?” he circles around the couch and plops down on the other end. Saeyoung shoots you a playful grin. “Who’re you making it for~?”

You give him a flat stare. The look on his face makes it obvious that he knows the answer. He seems to realize too, because he laughs, and says, “I think anything he’d like anything you make.”

You glance back at your phone, eyeing the various pictures of desserts on the screen. He’s right, though, Saeran would like any one of these. Your main concern is whether or not you can make them so that they’re safe for human consumption. Maybe you can, if you stick to just one recipe… But they all seem so good. It’s hard to pick. You groan, “Buying something would be definitely easier.”

“Then why don’t you?” his grin suddenly turns mischievous. “You know, I-”

“I am not buying your brother one of your shady products,” you cut him off before he says anything more. You vaguely remember him talking about making some special candy product for Valentine’s that may or may not involve kimchi chocolate. There’s no way in hell you’re giving Saeran one of those. He’d hate you forever! “Besides, he wants something homemade.”

“Ohh~ Is that so~” Saeyoung’s tone gives you the feeling that he knows something that you don’t. But he always seems to give off that kind of aura. “You know, you could just buy something and say it’s homemade.”

You frown. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it, but you don’t want to lie to Saeran. Even if that means subjecting him to your abysmal cooking. You’ll just have to try your hardest.

“You want to make him something, don’t you~? Is it because you really li-” you promptly cut Saeyoung off, by whacking him the face with a pillow. But just because he didn’t finish the sentence doesn’t mean you don’t know what he was going to say. You feel your entire face heat up from embarrassment..

“I-Is your fiancee making you something too?” you decide to try and change the subject.

Saeyoung shoots you a mocking glance, but still answers your question. “That’s right~ She said it’d have PhD. Pepper in it too~”

You blink. A soda flavored chocolate? That sounds kind of interesting. Maybe she’ll have leftovers for you to try.

“Oh!” Saeyoung exclaims, as if he’s just realized something. “Why don’t you ask her for help? I’m sure she’d be more than willing, especially if you tell her it’s for Saeran!”

That’s actually a good idea. You’ll have to make sure to ask her next time you see her.

Knock, knock, knock.

You roll over on your bed and grab your phone off the side table to check the time. It’s only nine in the morning. You can afford to sleep a little longer. If you don’t answer, maybe whoever it is at the door will leave you alone for now and come back later. You pull the covers over your head and close your eyes again, hoping that you can get back to sleep soon.

Knockknockknock.

The person at your door knocks again, this time with a little more urgency. You consider trying to ignore them still, but then they knock a third time, and you finally relent, reluctantly raising from your bed to answer the door. On the other side is Saeyoung’s fiancee, grinning cheerfully at you.

“Good morning!” she chirps.

“…morning…” you respond sleepily. “…what’s up?”

She shoots you a knowing grin and leans closer to whisper, “So~ A little birdy told me that you needed some help making Valentine’s chocolate for Saeran, is that right?”

You nod slowly.

The young woman claps her hands together excitedly. “Great! I’m planning on going to the store and grabbing stuff to make Saeyoung’s cupcakes today, so if you’d like you’re welcome to come with!”

It’d be a good idea to go with her. If you do, she might be able to help give you some ideas on what to make Saeran. Plus, it helps that she’s the best cook in the house, so she can give you some pointers so you don’t accidentally poison Saeran. You give her a nod and her smile widens.

“I was going to leave in about twenty minutes, so that gives you time to get ready!” the young woman chortles happily before skipping off.

You shut your door so you can change. As you’re grabbing something to wear it occurs to you  that you’ll have to think of an outfit to wear on your ‘date’ with Saeran. Of course, you could just not since it’s not a real ‘date’ but part of you also wants to look decent. Plus, you have to send pictures to your friends, so it’d be best to look as cute as you can, right?

But you can worry about that later, your primary concern is the chocolate. You toss on something decent, grab your phone and wallet and leave your room  to go to the bathroom so you can fix your hair and brush your teeth. Just as you’re about to reach out and open the bathroom door, it opens, revealing Saeran. You step aside so that he can move past and he comments, “Are you guys are going to make the chocolates today?”

“…um, maybe. I know we’re going shopping for the stuff for sure today.”

He gives you a smile and you’re not sure if he’s actually means it or if he’s just mocking you, “I look forward to it.”

“I’ll… do my best,” you respond a bit gruffly, heading into the bathroom. God, you hope Saeyoung’s fiance can help you make something edible. If he’s mocking you, that’ll teach him and if he’s not… well, he’ll be happy, which is good too.  A win-win situation. You quickly get ready and head out to the living room where Saeyoung’s fiancee awaits.

“Ready to go?” she asks.

“Yep.”

At that moment, Saeyoung bounds out of the foyer, twirling a set of keys on his fingers, “Then let’s go~”

The three of you head to the garage and hop into Saeyoung’s largest and least conspicuous looking car. The ride to the store is rather short due to Saeyoung’s speedy driving so you don't really have time to look up any potential recipes. He drops the two of you off, saying he’ll be back in about an hour or so before speeding off.

You follow Saeyoung’s fiancee into the store, quickly stepping aside to grab a cart to deposit your purchases before returning to her. She walks briskly through the store like a woman on a mission, grabbing things for cupcakes like flour, eggs and…. Potato chips?

“Are we getting some snacks for Saeyoung too?” you wonder aloud. She grabbed Saeyoung’s favorite flavor so maybe he wanted her to pick some up while you guys were here.

“Oh! No, actually,” she giggles. “I thought it’d be cool to top Saeyoung’s cupcakes with chocolate covered potato chips!”

You’re not sure how to feel about ‘chocolate covered potato chips.’ On the one hand it sounds absolutely weird (and right up Saeyoung’s alley) and on the other, the mix of salty and sweet sounds kind of appealing. It’s something you’d have to try to decide if it’s something you’d like or not.

“But enough of what I’m planning, what do you want to do?”

“I… still have no clue,” you admit with a sigh. “I was hoping to find some inspiration at the store.”

“Hmm, I see~” she hums thoughtfully. “Well… do you want to try baking something? You don’t have to make cupcakes like I am. You could try cookies or brownies.”

You can’t help but make a face. There’s something about baking that’s even more terrifying than regular cooking is to you. People have told you that you can get away with fudging measurements and times with cooking, but not baking. Apparently, baking is an exact science where you could mess the entire thing up if you don’t follow the directions to the letter.

Saeyoung’s fiancee laughs, “I’ll take that as a no, then. There are other things you can make that don’t involve an oven.”

“…yeah, but they’ll probably involve the stove,” you grumble.

“If it didn’t it wouldn’t really count as homemade…”

“Good point,” you sigh. “So what kinds of things could I make…?”

“Hm…” she taps a finger to her lips as she thinks. “Well, there’s fudge, truffles… You could probably also do chocolate covered strawberries- that’d be super easy!”

That they would be. You know they sell microwavable kits for chocolate dipped fruit too, so you wouldn’t even have to use the stove. But something about it seems… cheap. It’s a strange feeling. You want to do something easy, but at the same time, you really want to wow Saeran despite the limits of your own capabilities. Either way, you make note of it- you can do it if the other two suggestions don’t pan out.

You pull out your phone and do a quick web search for fudge recipes. That looks simple enough too. It seems you can flavors other than just plain chocolate too. It’d be a little more work, but it seems doable. You open another window in your phone’s browser and search for truffles. The initial result gives you mushrooms so you try again, this time specifying that you’re looking for chocolate truffles. The search results you get this time look far more favorable, but damn those look fancy, far fancier than the fudge or chocolate covered strawberries. One result boasts a list of seventeen easy recipes so you check that. Skimming through the first recipe, you find that it’s kind of similar to the fudge recipe but more effort is required since you’re shaping it too. You scroll through the other recipes, trying to decide if it’s worth the extra effort for these truffles when one particular image catches your eye. That looks kind of like…

“Well, did you find something?” Saeyoung’s fiancee asks, noticing that you’ve been quiet for a while.

“..yeah,” a smile starts to slowly form on your face. It might be a bit hard, but you just might be able to pull it off. And if you can, you just know it’ll be totally worth to see Saeran’s amazed face when he gets what you have planned. “…I think I did.”

When you and Saeyoung’s fiancee get home from the store, none other than Saeran is waiting for the two of you in the kitchen. You have a sneaking suspicion that he wants to get a sneak peek at whatever chocolate surprise you have planned for him. But as soon you get all the groceries in the kitchen Saeyoung's fiancee shooes both twins out the kitchen so you can put the classified goods away. It seems that while Saeyoung knows that his Valentine’s chocolate has PhD Pepper in it, he doesn’t much else about it. And obviously, his fiancee wants to keep it that way.

Once everything is all put away, you head back toward your room since the chocolate making will all be happening tomorrow when both boys are out of the house. Saeran, after getting kicked out of the living room, seems to have settled himself on the living room couch, busying himself with a botany encyclopaedia. Just as you’re about to pass him, he closes the book and looks up at you, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask something about our… date,” he hesitates on that last word, looking flustered as he says it.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Saeran doesn’t respond right away and after a moment he slowly says, “What were you planning on doing?”

“….to be honest, I haven’t really thought about it,” you admit shamefully.

“…why not? Since this was your idea, don’t you think you should be the one thinking up the plans?” Saeran complains snarkily.

“Well, I’ve been a bit preoccupied since someone requested I make them homemade chocolates,” you bite back. “Trying to make sure that I don’t kill you, you know.”

Saeran frowns, but doesn’t give you a smartass retort. Sounds like you win this one. You sigh and plop down on the couch next to him, “…why don’t we think up something together? It’ll be better that way, don’t you think?”

When Saeran perks up a little you can’t help but wonder if maybe this is what he wanted all along. It makes sense for him to want to have some input on what you do, he probably doesn’t want to be dragged around doing just stuff you want to do when he was already so reluctant to go on this date. You snicker a little and ask, “…do you already have something in mind?”

He blushes, making it obvious that you hit the nail on the head. Does that mean he’s actually been thinking about this date? Maybe, despite his outward reluctance, he’s actually been looking forward to this? Your heart starts to race a little at the thought of it, but you shake your head a tiny bit. You need to focus, and you don’t want to let yourself get disappointed if you turn out to be wrong.

Saeran pouts a bit, but reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. He unlocks it and brings up a window before extending it in your direction, “…maybe we can do this?”

You gingerly take his phone so you can examine what he’s showing you more closely. It seems to be a webpage for a restaurant that’s doing a special promotion for Valentine’s Day. You skim through the details but it seems they’re offering an exclusive three course dinner. Once you see the dessert that’s part of this dinner you immediately understand why Saeran wants to go here. It’s a specially handcrafted ice cream and cake dessert that looks almost too pretty to eat.

“I think that’s fine,” you say, handing Saeran his phone.

His eyes light up, but he still asks to confirm, “…you’re sure?”

“Of course! I mean, you’re doing me a favor by going on this date in the first place,” you reason, then, after a second, you hastily add. “Plus the dinner looks really good, especially the dessert.”

“…yeah…”

“So, we’ll do that then!” you grin, glad that you now have a solid plan for the date. “…oh, but it looks like we need reservations. I guess I should call…”

“I’ll do it,” Saeran says a little suddenly.

“Oh, really? Thanks!” You’re glad that he’s decided to take that on since it’s one less thing to worry about, though it seems strange for him to volunteer so readily.  “…is there anything else you want to do?”

Saeran’s expression turns contemplative. He seems to have something on his mind, and you wait for him to voice what it might be. But instead he says, “…no, it’s not a real date, so it’s not necessary to do more than that.”

Is it just you or does he sound a bit… disappointed? He really seemed like he was thinking of something, but apparently not. You mask your own sense of disappointment behind a smile, “…that’s right, huh… I just wanted to know just in case….”

You laugh a little, but it feels a bit forced. Hopefully, Saeran can’t tell. You rise to your feet and say, “Now that we know what to do, we’re pretty much set, right? …well, I still have to make the chocolates, but we’re doing that tomorrow so. Uh.”

God, this feels so awkward now. You don’t know what to say. “I’ll… I’ll try to make sure they’re edible!”

Saeran nods a little and you rush back to your room. Once you get there, you shut the door and lean against it. It’s supposed to be a fake date, so you don’t know why you’re getting one little thing like that get you all riled up. Is it because he showed some interest in it? Because he had an idea? Did that give you hope?

Did you want this fake date to be something more?

When you think about it, the answer to all of these questions is yes. You want him to be interested. You want to have hope. You want this date to be something more than fake. You want all that because you have feelings for him.

Maybe the need for a fake date prompted you to actually ask him, but you didn’t need to tell him it was fake. You could have just said that you wanted to go on a date. Who knows? He might have said yes.

Feeling frustrated, you hold your head in your hands. All you can do now is hope it goes well. Maybe if it does, it can spark something more…

The day has finally come. It’s finally Valentine’s Day. Saeran told you that your reservation at the restaurant was for 5PM, and, despite yourself, you spend pretty much the entire afternoon rifling through your entire wardrobe to find something suitable to wear. You definitely don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard, but you also don’t want to look like you don’t give a damn about this date.

Because you do! But you don’t. It’s kind of confusing whenever you try to think of your expectations concerning this date, so you try not to.

“I think this looks okay…” you mutter, looking over your chosen outfit for what feels like the millionth time. What you ended up choosing isn’t the cutest thing you own, but you could probably count it somewhere in your top three outfits. Maybe you should try on one of the other ones just in case.

A sudden knocking on your door causes you to nearly jump and you scramble to grab your phone. You knew the time was getting close but you didn’t realize it was already 4:30! The person at the door knocks again and you answer, “Yes?”

After a minute, the door opens and Saeyoung’s fiancee peeks in, “I-I don’t mean to rush, but are you almost ready?”

“Uh, yeah!” You wonder if maybe Saeran sent her to check on you. If he’s already ready, you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer, but… “Hey, quick question, is what I’m wearing okay?”

She gives you an inquisitive glance and steps into your room to get a better look at your outfit. Her face lights up instantly, and she nearly squeals, “You look absolutely adorable! Saeran’s gonna love it!”

“Ah… I don’t know about that… It’s a fake date, after all.” But despite that, you still find yourself blushing at the compliment.

“Fake or not, it’s still a date,” she chides while wagging a finger at you. “And who knows, maybe it’ll become real along the way.”

Something about her expression makes it seem like she knows something you don’t. The look reminds you of the one Saeyoung gave you a couple days back. You have the feeling you know what they’re hinting at but it’s better not to hope.

“I… guess,” you sigh.

“Now, none of that!” Saeyoung’s fiancee scolds you as she forcefully bops you on the nose. “He’s waiting for you, you know?”

“Tell him I’ll be out there in a minute.”

Saeyoung’s fiancee nods before leaving the room. Once she’s gone, you grab the delicately wrapped box filled with the chocolates you made for Saeran and stare at it. You figured your room was a safer place to store them just in case Saeran tried to sneak a taste. Luckily, all your hard work managed to yield something edible. According to Saeyoung’s fiancee (since you were far too nervous to try them yourself), they even taste good. Part of you doubts her words, thinking maybe she was just being nice, but another part thinks she’d tell you if they were bad, you doubt she’d intentionally poison her soon to be brother in law.

A loud shout from the living room reminds you that you’re on a time crunch and you jam the box into a gift bag and hurry into the living room. As you approach, you can hear Saeyoung and his fiancee trying to soothe Saeran as he gripes about you taking so long to get ready. But as soon as you enter the room, all conversation seems to cease.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” you apologize, feeling a bit nervous since everyone’s eyes are on you. “We won’t be late, will we?”

When Saeran doesn’t answer right away, you turn your attention toward him. He’s staring right at you, but he seems to be in a daze for some reason.

“…Saeran?”

“Huh?” he seems to snap out of it. “…it’s not too far, we should be fine.”

You let out a relieved sigh. It’d suck if you missed the reservation, especially if it was because you took too long to get ready. Saeran waves you over toward him so you can leave, and you realize that he actually put some effort into his appearance for this date. His normally unruly hair has been combed down a bit, and he’s decked out in a suit, tie, blazer and all. It makes you kind of wish you’d actually gone with your number one outfit.

“Uh…” you debate whether or not you should actually say something or not. Saeran glances questioningly down at you, and you gulp. Might as well. “You look… good.”

Saeran’s eyes widen and he averts his gaze, an obvious blush spreading across his cheeks. “…you…too.”

That, in turn, causes you to turn red. You weren’t expecting that. “I… I’ll give you the chocolates after dinner. Don’t want you ruining your appetite.”

Saeran looks a bit nonplussed that he has to wait, but doesn’t voice any complaints.

The two of you stand there, somewhat awkwardly, for a moment, before Saeyoung strides over, draping an arm around both yours and Saeran’s shoulders. “Now kids, you go out there and have a good time, but don’t stay out too late~”

Saeran swats at his brother, but Saeyoung evades the attack, giggling as he flees to safely behind his fiancee. Clearly annoyed,  Saeran shoots a glare in Saeyoung’s direction before ushering you toward the garage. When you get there, he grabs a set of keys off the wall before leading you to one of Saeyoung’s cars, hitting the remote to unlock it as you get close.

“Wait a sec!” you exclaim, stepping around Saeran, putting yourself between him and the car, “We’re taking one of your brother’s cars?”

“Yeah. So?”

You’re just surprised is all. Saeyoung treats his cars as if they’re his babies. But then again, if his ‘precious little brother’ asked to drive one you can’t really see Saeyoung turning him down. “Wait, can you even drive?”

Saeran clicks his tongue, “Of course. Did you think my brother was going to drive us around?”

If you’re going to be honest, yes. You laugh a bit nervously instead of answering and Saeran lets out an exasperated sigh. He steps past you once more and around to the passenger side of the car. Wait. Didn’t he just say he was driving? You’re about to ask when he opens the door and motions for you to take a seat. Stunned by the sudden gentlemanly gesture, you merely gawk at him. After a moment, Saeran clears his throat, and you hurriedly sit. “Th-thanks…”

Saeran shuts the door as soon as you’re in the seat and moves to the driver’s side. He slides into his seat and puts the key in the ignition,  turning the car on. Then, Saeran takes a deep breath before he pulls out if the parking spot.

The ride to the restaurant teaches you two things: one, Saeran indeed knows how to drive and two, it had to be Saeyoung who taught him. No other sane person would drive like that and live to tell the tale. Because of that, Saeran manages to get the both of you to the restaurant a couple minutes before the reservation time.

Just like he did when you left he comes around and opens the car door for you, this time extending a hand to help you out. Hesitantly, you take his hand and set the chocolates down on the seat. You immediately note how sweaty his hand feels. Is he nervous? Or something else? He gently tugs you out of the car and leads you to the restaurant, his hand still firmly holding onto yours.

Inside, the restaurant is packed with at least a dozen other couples obviously waiting to get a seat. Saeran merely walks past them and up to the hostess, who greets him with a smile.

“I have a reservation at five for two,” he tells her smoothly.

“Your name?” the hostess asks automatically.

“Saeran Choi.”

She stares at him for a moment before looking down at the computer in front of her and after a second says, “It’ll be just a moment, sir.”

Saeran nods and steps away off to the side. You follow after, stopping so you’re standing side by side. The notification sound from your phone goes off and you reach into your bag to pull it out. Of course, it’s a text from Heeji.

hope ur date is going well! Don’t forget the pics u promised!

Shit! That’s right! You said you’d take pics for them, didn’t you? Since the two of you are still waiting to be seated, it might be a good time to take a quick picture. The lighting in the lobby is relatively bright, so the picture should come out fairly well. “Hey Saeran?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you mind if we take a selfie real quick?” you ask, clapping your hands together to plead with him.

“…why?”

“To commemorate our date, of course!” you exclaim, then add, as an afterthought. . “…also because my friends are asking.”

Saeran gives you a deadpan look, ordinarily that would mean no, but you can’t let that deter you. Part of the reason you’re on this date in the first place is because you need visual evidence. You give him the good old puppy dog eyes, hoping that maybe you’ll be able to sway him, “Come on, please? Just one little picture?”

It doesn’t seem like Saeran’s going to relent, so you start to think of ways to possibly barter with him. But to your surprise, he gives in rather easily, “…okay, fine.”

You let out a small cheer and open the camera app on your phone. It’s set to the rear-facing camera, so you have to switch to the front-facing one. Once that’s set, you scooch closer to Saeran and angle the camera so that the both of you are visible. You raise your free hand and make a little finger heart with your thumb and index finger. Then you nudge Saeran with your elbow, “Hey, you do it too!”

“… why?”

“It’s cute, don’t you think?”

“I… guess.” But despite his reluctant tone,  Saeran still raises a hand, mimicking the gesture. You adjust the camera a little more before giving him more instructions, “Great! Now smile!”

You beam widely, then hit the shutter button in the side of your phone a second later. The screen flashes and you hear a click, meaning the picture’s been taken. You relax from your pose to check the picture you’ve taken. Unfortunately, Saeran isn’t sporting the huge grin you’d been aiming for, but there is a faint smile on his face. You like it. It’s very…  Saeran.

He peeks over your shoulder look at the picture and after a second asks in a confused tone, “You’re not gonna ask to take another one?”

“Nope!” you chirp, attaching the photo to a text you’re sending to Heeji. “I actually think this one came out pretty nice!”

“Even if I’m not smiling like an idiot?”

“Yep.” You hit the send button . “This suits your personality better.”

Saeran turns red and looks away from you. “…will you send me a copy of that picture too?”

You blink. Now it’s your turn to be confused. “Why?”

He turns even more red, “I… just… it’d be just useful is all!”

“For… what?”

“I-in case I need to tell someone I have a girlfriend or something!” he nearly spits at you. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to you, Saeran doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to make up a girlfriend for any reason. But none the less, you send him a copy of the picture.

The hostess calls for the two of you and you walk back up to the desk. You notice a few of the others waiting to be seated give the two of you envious stares. Most of them were there before you, so you can only guess they didn’t have a reservation and are stuck waiting until either someone doesn’t show or if someone leaves early. You can only imagine how long the wait must be.

The hostess grabs a couple menus and leads you to wherever you’ll be sitting. She asks a couple standard questions like how’s your night been and if it’s your first time at the restaurant which Saeran answers. You kind of thought it when you got here but now that you’re walking through the restaurant, you realize that this place is really fancy. When you get to the table, the hostess pulls out one of the chairs for you, and you sit as she moves around the table and pulls out the other for Saeran. Then she hands you both the menu and reaches for the napkin on the table. With a graceful wave of her arm, she undoes it and places it neatly on your lap, then does the same for Saeran. Yep. This place is totally fancy.

“Narae will be your server today,” the hostess informs you. “She’ll be over in just a moment.”

Both you and Saeran nod before looking back at the menu. You recognize it as the special Valentine’s menu that Saeran showed you a couple days ago. At the time, you’d only really paid attention to the dessert since you figured that’s what he wanted to come here for, but the appetizer and entree choices look really good too…

A young woman, who you assume is your server walks up to the table, “Hi guys, I’m Narae and I’ll be your server for the night. Can I start you guys off with some drinks? Some wine perhaps?”

“Just water is fine for me,” you answer. You don’t really feel like drinking right now.

She looks at Saeran who says, “Water for me too.”

“Would you guys like some Perrier? Or is just regular water alright?”

“Uh… just regular water is okay.”

“Alright!” She bobs her head up and down cheerfully. “And are you guys ready to order or do you still need a couple minutes?”

“A couple more minutes, please.”

“Okay! I’ll get your waters and put your appetizer in the meantime! ” The waitress reaches over and takes the two wine glasses off the table since you and Saeran won’t be having any need of them.  When she’s gone you redirect your attention to the menus, trying to decide on an entree. Luckily, the entree choices for this special Valentine’s menu is limited to just two, but…

“The steak and the ravioli both sound really good…” you lament, unable to choose.  “…which one are you gonna order, Saeran?”

“Mmm… Dunno…” he responds, eyebrows scrunched as he examines the menu himself. If anything he’s probably more focused on the dessert than the main course so he may not really care either way…

“… hey, I’ve got an idea!” you exclaim suddenly. Saeran gives you an inquisitive look and you explain.  “Why don’t you order one entree and I’ll order the other and we can try both!”

Saeran just stares at you blankly. Was that a bad idea? Was it too… couple-y? You raise your hands, ready to take back what you’ve said, but before you can, Saeran nods a bit, “…yeah… That’s fine.”

“Awesome!” you cheer, glad to have solved that problem. Is it just you or has Saeran been more amicable since you left the house? You would have figured he'd be a lot more reluctant to agree with you on anything given the situation. But this entire time he's been... nice. Like he's trying to be a good date, despite the situation.

As if on cue, your server reappears by your table, she pours water in your glasses from a pitcher and asks, “Are you guys ready to order?”

“Yes!” you look back down at the menu even though there’s no need to since you know what you want. “Can I get the pasta and he’ll have the steak?”

“Of course!” The waitress smiles, apparently committing the orders to memory. “How would you like your steak, sir?”

Saeran looks up and answers after a beat, “Medium rare.”

“Excellent! I’ll go put those in right away! The first course should be coming up soon!”

“Okay, thank you!” you smile, and the waitress bows a bit, taking the menus from both you and Saeran before walking off.

When she’s gone you glance over at Saeran, who’s just sitting there quietly. It’ll be awkward if you both just sit here silently the entire meal, so until the appetizer comes, you’ve got to try and think of something to talk about.

“So, this place is really fancy!” you say, looking around at the interior. “How’d you hear about it?”

“A famous pastry chef works here,” he explains. “I saw a special about her on TV.”

“Ohhhh.” That makes sense, despite how good the other courses are, the both of you are really here for the dessert. “Is that why it’s so busy here?”

“Maybe.”

“Then it’s really good we were able to get a reservation on such short notice!” With all those couples that had been waiting, you have the feeling that maybe the restaurant starts taking reservations for Valentine’s at least a couple months in advance. A triumphant smirk slowly spreads across Saeran’s face. You stare at him, confused why he’s got that look on his face. Then it clicks. He did something, didn’t he? You shoot him a suspicious glare and lean closer so that no one nearby can hear you. “Did you do something?!”

Saeran gives a noncommittal shrug, which, to you, is the same as admitting guilt.

You groan, “Saeran. Didn’t you see all those people waiting? You can’t just ha-”

“Wait a second,” he raises a hand to cut you off. “I didn’t hack anything.”

You throw him a pointed stare. “Really?”

He gives you a pouty glare before looking away. “…the day you asked to go on this date I called about a reservation.”

You blink. That means he’d been thinking about coming here before you even discussed it? You’d realized he’d must have wanted to since he so readily suggested it, but you didn’t think he’d actually been thinking of it since the very beginning… Maybe that’s why he’d been so eager to make the reservation instead of letting you do it.

“They were full, obviously,” he continues, grumbling as he goes. “But I called everyday to ask if anyone had cancelled. Eventually someone did and they gave me that person’s slot.”

When he’s done, he looks away from you, blushing once more. Finally, you ask, “…did you really want to come here that badly?”

He nods, still refusing to look at you.

“I… see… I’m sorry for accusing you of using… unsavory methods to get this reservation,” you bow your head down. He must have been really happy when he’d scored that reservation. The dessert here must really be out of this world if he called everyday trying to get a reservation.

One of the waitstaff comes over to your table with a tray, and you figure that must be the appetizer. You’ve maybe been here around ten minutes, so you're a bit surprised it's come out so quickly. Then again since there’s only one appetizer the kitchen is probably cranking it out, especially since it’s such a busy night. The waiter places a bowl of soup in front of the both of you with a cheerful “enjoy!” before walking away.

You look down at the soup, the menu said it was some kind of bisque. It looks kind of creamy. You pick up your spoon and slowly bring it to your mouth to take a small taste. Luckily, it’s not so hot that you can’t eat it… and in fact, it’s really good! You quickly finish off the bowl of soup and find that Saeran has done the same.

Almost as soon as you’re done eating the soup, the entrees arrive. You’re so glad that you suggested that you both of them since they look absolutely delicious. You pick up your fork and examine the ravioli. They’re a bit big to eat in one bite, so you’ll have to use the knife. To be honest, since you use chopsticks to eat most of the time you've only used a knife a handful of times. Since it’s pasta, your fork should be enough to cut it, right? You look up at Saeran to see how he’s doing and find he’s actually pretty good with a fork and knife. Noticing that you’re staring, Saeran looks up at you, “What is it?”

“Oh, just admiring your skills,” you reply honestly.

He smirks at you, “Do you want me to cut your pasta for you?”

“I-I’m fine!” you squeak and Saeran laughs. He looks down at the piece he’s just cut and spears it with his fork before raising it up and holding it toward you like he’s trying to feed you. You stare at the steak and then back up at Saeran. He’s not really….

“Come on, you said you wanted to try it, right?” he tells you in a teasing tone, but despite that his eyes look oddly earnest. Wait a second. This was supposed to be a fake date, wasn’t it? But doing something like this… it makes it feel so real. You’d figured he’d just cut a piece and put it on your plate and you’d do the same… “Well…?”

Either way, you shouldn’t leave him hanging. Shyly, you lean forward and tentatively eat the steak off his fork. As soon as it’s in your mouth you pull back to your seat, and chew the steak slowly. You’re far too embarrassed over what just transpired to even register the taste of the steak and you don’t want to ask for another piece.

“What about mine?”

You redirect your attention toward Saeran, and he’s giving you a shit-eating grin. That little…He’s totally teasing you! Well, two can play at that game. You raise your fork, cut one of the raviolis on the plate in half and thrust it toward his face. In a sickeningly sweet voice you say, “Say ‘ahh,’ sweetie~”

This time it’s Saeran’s turn to stare at the food being presented to him. He turns bright red as he contemplates what to do. After a moment, he lurches forward and eats the ravioli in the same manner as you did just moments before. You smile and ask, “So, how does it taste?”

“…it’s good,” he utters quietly, looking adequately flustered after you tossed that attempt to tease you right back in his face.

You grin victoriously and pick up the other half of the ravioli on the plate and take a bite. He’s right. It is good. The both of you finish off your respective entrees without exchanging another bite with one another. When you’re done, someone comes by quickly and clears the plates off the table. Now it's time for the thing that you’ve both come here for: the dessert.

A couple minutes later, your waitress comes by with a plate and what looks like a metal ladle. When she sets the plate down, the thing on the plate isn’t the dessert Saeran showed you online. Instead, a shiny, bright red, heart shaped candy-like thing is taking up most of the entire plate. You look up at the waitress in confusion, but she gives you a playful smile. She pulls a lighter out of her pocket and ignites it under the ladle, waving it back and forth, heating it, or whatever is in it, up. After a minute or so, she puts the lighter back in her pocket and pours the contents of the ladle over the candy heart. The liquid in the ladle drizzles down the sides of the heart, melting the candy away. You gasp softly when the cake that you’d been expecting is revealed beneath the candy heart. The waitress chuckles at your reaction and places a pair of spoons down for you and Saeran.

“Please enjoy, guys!”

When she’s gone you look up at Saeran, wide eyed, “That was really cool! Did you… know that was going to happen?”

He slowly nods.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Would have ruined the fun,” he chuckles, picking up his spoon.

You grab yours and reach to take a scoop of the cake. To be honest, you’re a bit hesitant. It really is too pretty to eat, but you know if you don’t make your claims now, Saeran will just eat it all. When you take a bite, you realize that it tastes every bit as good as it looks. Between the two of you, you finish the cake in record time. Once you’re done, the waitress comes by once more, check in hand.

“How was it, guys?” she asks, setting the check down on the table.

“It was good!” you respond happily. “Thanks so much!”

She laughs a little, “Well, glad to hear you enjoyed it! I’ll be back for the check in a few!”

The waitress walks off, and you reach for the check but Saeran swipes it out of your grasp. “Hey!”

“What?” his voice is all nonchalant. If anything, you should at least pay for dinner since you were the one who invited him at all.

“Let me pay,” you tell him firmly.

“No.”

“But why? I’m the one who invited you!”

Saeran shifts a bit, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. “‘Cause I said so.”

“But!” you cry in protest.

He pulls out a few bills and stuffs them in the folder. “No.”

“At least let me pay half or something,” you try to reason with him, reaching out to try and grab the bill from him, but his arms are too long and you can’t grab it. He quickly waves the waitress over, and she comes by, moving so she can take the bill without you getting too close to it.

“Do you need change, sir?”

“No, you can keep the change.”

“Thank you so much, sir! I hope the two of you have a good rest of the night!”

“Thanks! You too!” you smile, before throwing another glare at Saeran. There was no need for him to pay for dinner, or at least all of it. He merely ignores you and rises from his seat with you following suit. The two of you head out of the restaurant and back toward the car. Once again, he opens the door for you, and this time you sit without hesitation, grabbing the bag of chocolates off the seat before you settle down.

As Saeran moves to the driver’s side, you remember that you didn’t make any plans beyond dinner, so unless you think of something spur of the moment this (fake) date is pretty much over. You can’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the thought. It’s been a little bit awkward at times, but it’s also been kind of fun, and you’re… not really ready to let go of that yet.

Saeran sits down and starts the car and you contemplate whether or not you should say something or not. The worst he could possibly say is no, but that refusal also could imply a more profound rejection. But it’s better to have tried than not, right? You take a deep breath.

“Hey, Saeran?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you…” you falter for a second, before taking another deep breath. “…I think there’s a ferris wheel nearby, right? Do you wanna… maybe go?”

Saeran thinks for a moment, then he says, in a slow voice, “…it might be crowded too… couples like that kind of thing, don’t they?”

He’s got a point. It is Valentine’s Day after all. There will probably be a pretty long line. You sigh, but it can’t be helped. “…I… I guess we should just head back then! I’ll give you your chocolates when we get home!”

Saeran briefly gives you an odd look, before shifting the car into reverse. He pulls out of the parking lot silently, his face scrunched up like he's thinking hard about something. When he turns onto the street you realize he’s driving away from Saeyoung’s house, but not toward the ferris wheel.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“You’ll see,” is the only answer you get out of him meaning you’ll just have to wait.

As he drives, you reach into your purse to check your phone. Apparently, Heeji showed that picture you sent her to your other friends, because some of them texted you too. All of them are really supportive, which is really nice, though you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt since this was supposed to be a fake date, but… you glance at Saeran, who’s focused on the road before him. It certainly doesn’t really feel that fake, but you can’t get your hopes up either.

“Hey.”

You look at Saeran, confused. “What?”

“Close your eyes for a minute.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it!” Saeran insists, then adds. “…please?”

“O…kay…” you agree and close your eyes. You can feel Saeran turn the car, and the he begins to slow before coming to a complete stop. “…can I open them now?”

“Not yet. I’ll tell you when.”

You hear the door open and shut on his side, then a moment later, your door opens. You reach for your seatbelt and undo it before tentatively reaching for Saeran’s hand. When you find it, he gently tugs you out of the car.

“Oh, bring the chocolate too,” he instructs.

You nod and hold onto the bag. Once you’re out of the car Saeran shuts the door behind you and leads you somewhere. You can hear a distant chatter, so wherever he’s taken you has people, but it doesn’t seem that… populated? But it is a bit of a walk. You shiver a little from the cold. The sweater you’re wearing isn’t doing a good job of keeping you warm, but made to look cute, not functional. Saeran suddenly stops walking, and you nearly bump into him.

“Saeran?” The uncertainty in your voice is evident.

“Just a second.” He lets go of your hand, taking away the small source of warmth you had. You hear a rustling sound and then you feel something warm drop on your shoulders. Is that Saeran’s blazer? He put his jacket over you to keep you warm? The pitter-patter of your heart begins to accelerate. That’s just… not fair.. This isn't a real date… But he just keeps doing things that make you question how fake it really is. You almost open your eyes, but Saeran puts his hand over your eyes. “Wait a little bit longer, we’re almost there.”

“…okay, but are you gonna be okay? Aren’t you cold?”

“…I’m fine,” Saeran replies, grasping your hand once more, this time a little tighter. He pulls you so that you’re closer to him, and that heart rate of yours just jumps through the roof. This is really too much…

You walk a little further, turning every now and then, but eventually Saeran stops moving. Have you arrived at your destination? You’re still not sure where you are. But it smells kind of… floral? No… But something like that… Kind of outdoorsy. Are you at a park or something? You wait for Saeran to give you the okay to open your eyes, though, just in case.

“Go ahead and open your eyes.”

Slowly, you do as he says. The first thing you see is an assortment of bright pink, red and white lights strung up on all of trees. It looks almost like a Christmas display. You look around and it seems you were kind of right- wherever he brought you has all sorts of flowers and other various plants all over, but it seems a bit excessive for a park. “A garden?”

Saeran nods.

“It’s so pretty…” you take a few steps forward to take in the lights. You didn’t know that there were places that did light displays for Valentine’s Day too… It’s really nice. There are a bunch of other couples walking around but the garden is so large that it doesn’t feel crowded at all. “Thanks for bringing me here, Saeran!”

He gives you a tiny smile and approaches you again, ushering you to follow him. Saeran leads you down another, much smaller pathway until you reach a bench. Then he sits down and motions for you to sit down next to him. When you do so, he holds out his hand and you figure he must want those chocolates now. Hesitantly, you hand him the bag. Saeran takes it from you and reaches in, pulling out the box.

“You went all out on the wrapping, huh,” Saeran comments, gently touching the perfectly tied ribbon.

You laugh, albeit a little nervously, “Yeah… I actually had a lot of fun wrapping it up all nice and pretty! Doesn’t account for taste, though…”

“Mmm.” Saeran pulls at the ribbon and you watch with bated breath as he lifts the cover off of the box. You breathe a tiny sigh of relief when you find that all nine of your little truffles didn’t get messed up at all during their time in the box, though you did try to make sure to wrap them well. “These are…?”

“They’re chocolate truffles!” you begin to explain. “I ended up making a bunch of different ones since I wasn’t sure which you’d like best. There’s a strawberry one, a mint chocolate one, a brownie one… when I was looking at pictures of them, they kind of reminded me of scoops of ice cream, so i thought it’d be a good idea… Though I don’t know… Maybe I went kind of overboard making so many different kinds…I do hope you like them though…”

While you’re rambling, Saeran moves his hand so that it’s hovering over the different truffles as if he’s thinking of which one to eat first. He finally chooses one and gingerly picks it up with his thumb and forefinger. Then, he looks at you, “Hey, open up.”

“Wha-” Saeran stuffs the truffle in your mouth while you’re speaking, forcing you to eat it. This taste… it must be the cookie dough truffle. You have to admit that it’s actually pretty good. This is probably the first time you can say that you’ve made something edible. And not just edible, it even tastes good too! Feeling proud of yourself, you can’t help but grin as you swallow. It’s probably not the healthiest thing to be able to make, but at least it’s something.

“So how was it?” Saeran inquires with a serious look. “Was it good? I’m not gonna die if I eat one, right?”

You laugh again, this time more earnestly, “It was good! You’ll be fine if you eat one! But that was the only cookie dough truffle in the box…”

“Oh…” Saeran looks down at the box, then back up at you. “It’s fine.”

You blink. “Are you sure?”

He nods, then he stops moving, hesitation flickering in his eyes. Just as you’re about to ask, he leans down closer to you, closing his eyes as he approaches. He softly presses his lips against yours in a  chaste kiss. Then, after a moment he pulls back, his eyes fluttering back open. He offers you a hazy smile, “…you’re right. It was good.”

You open your mouth and try to say something but no words come out. Did he… He totally did… He just kissed you! You feel all the air in your body escape you and you sag back against the bench. Saeran kissed you. And he said it was good…

While you sit there, stunned over the kiss, he picks up another one of the truffles and pops it in his mouth. You snap back to reality, waiting to see what he says about it. Then you can ask him about that kiss.

“…this is pretty good,” he remarks, grabbing another and eating it. You’re relieved to see that he likes the chocolates that you worked so hard on, but now your focus is elsewhere.

“Saeran, why did you kiss me just now?” you demand, getting straight to the point.

He stops munching on the truffles to look at you, “…isn’t it obvious?”

Your face feels warm and you look away, feeling a bit embarrassed, “But wasn’t this supposed to be a fake date?”

“…maybe to you,” he answers in a meaningful tone, causing you to look back at him. “But it’s been real to me this whole time.”

“…what…?”

His expression grows more exasperated, “…do I really have to write it out in crayon for you?”

“I… uh… yes.” At this point there are some rather obvious conclusions that you can draw, but you’d much rather hear him say it so that there’s no doubt. Saeran sighs, and draws closer once more.

“…will you make me these truffles again next year? Not as a someone asking for a favor, but as my girlfriend?” he asks, looking you directly in the eyes.

“…yes,” you nod your head up and down vigorously.

He grins at your response and leans in for one more chocolate flavored kiss.

#mysme secret valentines 2018 #mystic messenger fanfic #saeran choi #mysme fanfic #saeran x reader #god if i had the time i really would work on this more #idk about saeran here either #omg #anyway i really went up to the wire with this one #weeps #it's 11PM on the 20th here

[believeinthecheese]

FanFic - Everyone Loves Butters - Part Three, Kyle Broflovski

Kyle Broflovski was angry. This was nothing new, in and of itself, but never before had he felt so twisted, so perplexed by his own rage. By all accounts he should be happy; He was dating a… well perhaps amazing would be going a bit too far, but his boyfriend, Eric, was sort of perfect for him. To top it all off his boyfriend’s other boyfriend, Butters, was absolutely adorable and just the sweetest person you could ever meet. It didn’t even bother him that he was, essentially, sharing Eric with another guy, because it just worked so well between the three of them. Perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind he always assumed that eventually he and Butters would share the same closeness. He was looking forward to it.

Then Butters went and started dating Kyle’s best friend instead, and it was like the entire world dropped away. So maybe he’d been a bit too wrapped up in his new relationship with Eric and took it for granted that Butters would, in time, come to him. He never expected that in the interim Butters would go to Stan Marsh, of all people. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his super best friend to bits, even if they had drifted apart a great deal, but he was so completely… straight. Kyle had no idea that Stan even considered other guys, let alone that he’d ever actually date one. Let’s just say that maybe Kyle would’ve had a lot more to think about if he’d known that particular card was on the table. So here he was, not exactly alone, but minus one best friend and one potential boyfriend. Or maybe it was two potential boyfriends. That was a can of worms he’d never wanted to open, but now that he knew Stan was interested in men he couldn’t help but start to unpack all the complex emotions he’d kept bottled up. It was so much easier when he could just tell himself it was impossible and call it a day. Eric was, of course, no help at all. When Kyle had tried bringing it up with him he’d just laughed victoriously, claiming he’d always known the two had “big gay fucking boners for each other”. His advice to just drop to his knees and blow Stan was less than practical, and overall Kyle regretted ever bringing it up in the first place. At least he was able to get one somewhat useful piece of information out of the whole ordeal - Butters had apparently spoken about him to Eric before, in a positive light. When Eric had let that slip he immediately tried to cover it up, and refused to elaborate, so Kyle would hazard a guess that it wasn’t just a casual conversation between the two. This tiny hint, as small and inconclusive as it was, left him feeling like there might be a glimmer of hope. The logical thing to do would be to talk to them, either both together or individually, so of course Kyle didn’t do that at all and instead chose to let his bitterness simmer. He knew he was being stupid, and his relationships with everyone involved were suffering for it. Even Eric, who found it funny at first, was starting to get sick of his perpetual irritation and had told him on more than one occasion to shut the fuck up and just do something about it. He and Stan were further from being friends than ever before, and barely spoke beyond a stiff hello if they ran into each other at school. However it was poor Butters who was suffering the most. The little blonde adored Kyle, leaving him confused and hurt when the red head started going out of his way to avoid him. Up to that point the two had gotten on astonishingly well, and were on their way to the closeness Kyle had desired, before he abruptly cut off all contact. *** It was lucky that Butters wasn’t the sort of person to just let things go when he felt like something was wrong with a friend. It was also lucky that Eric wasn’t the sort of person who gave a shit about keeping secrets when they were inconveniencing him, and the second Butters came to him in tears about Kyle’s behaviour he spilled without hesitation. Partly because he was legitimately upset to see his boyfriend crying, but also because he was so very over all the drama. He was mildly irritated that he had to reassure a sobbing Butters that Kyle didn’t, in fact, hate him and wasn’t going to force Eric to break up with him. As if he would ever let anyone control his life like that anyway. There were some guilty feelings swirling around for breaking Kyle’s confidence, but he quickly stamped them down. If it meant Butters was going to make a move to end the relationship stalemate then he would take whatever fallout came his way. Actually pinning Kyle down for long enough to have any sort of discussion with him proved to be the real challenge, and in the end Butters had to go to Stan for help. Stan had opened up a lot more about his feelings for Kyle over the course of his relationship with Butters, so the other was fully aware that they were both in love with the red head. It was only natural that they should work together on this, especially since Kyle was being so ridiculously difficult about the whole thing. It was Stan’s suggestion that they trick Kyle by asking Kenny to message him to meet at Stark’s Pond after school. Neither wanted to lay a trap like that, feeling sneaky and underhanded, but it seemed to be the only way to get close enough to the other boy to actually talk to him. So when Kenny enthusiastically agreed, also sick of the tension between his friends, they went ahead with their plan. *** “What the fuck is this!?” He should’ve known something was up when Kenny sent him a text asking to meet, being all shady about why and refusing to answer any questions. Though he’d thought maybe he just needed help with something embarrassing or illegal, not that it was a set up to force him to talk to the two people he’d been trying so hard to avoid. Huffing angrily he spun on his heel and went to leave. “Stop running away Kyle!” Stan yelled, while Butters stood off to the side awkwardly shuffling his feet, “You’re acting like such a piece of shit! What the hell is your problem?” The volatile red head stormed up to his former best friend and jabbed him in the chest aggressively with his pointer finger, “What’s my problem!? I fucking miss you, you asshole!” “Well you’ve got a funny way of showing it fucktard!” “Uh, fellas, maybe we should calm down a bit…” Butters spoke up in a quiet voice, unheard by the two warring friends. “Well excuse the fuck out of me for getting sick of watching you push me away. The only reason you’re noticing now is because it’s on my terms, not yours.” His green eyes were sparkling with unshed tears now as everything he’d been keeping hidden suddenly became raw and exposed. Stan put his hands up placatingly, trying to diffuse a situation that had gotten quickly out of control, “Kyle, that’s—“ “And then I find something else that’s just mine, someone who makes me forget that I fucking lost you, and you just come barging in, all stupid and attractive and take that away from me too!” “What, I don’t understand, I… Is this about Cartman?” “No it’s not fucking about Eric, you stupid ass fucker! I’m talking about Butters! I fucking love him! I loved you, and I love him, but fuck me right! Fuck!” Kyle covered his face with his arms and screamed wordlessly into his shirt sleeve, tears flowing freely now, emotions overwhelmed. “Kyle…” Butters hurried over and embraced the sobbing boy, “Shhhh, it’s okay, we love you too. We love you so much. Just cry buddy, let it all out.” “How did this get so fucked up?” Kyle asked in a tiny, deflated voice. “I dunno dude, we just suck at talking to each other.” Stan joined the others, wrapping them both up in his strong arms, “We’ll get better at it, I promise.” As he stood there, by the cold pond, warm in the arms of his loves, he started to think that maybe things would work out after all. They would figure it out together.

#south park #fanfiction #sp fanfiction #butters stotch #leopold stotch #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyutters #stutters #style #stylutters #kyman #buttman #cartters #kyle x butters #kyle x stan #kyle x stan x butters #kyle x cartman #cartman x butters #everyone loves butters series

[josiejourney]

September 18, 2018

9.5 MILES, and I didn’t even leave my house until 12 noon. My feet aren’t too happy right now, but they fit in nicely with the locals — I’ve worn Superga sneakers for years, and since they’re the “people’s shoe of Italy,” my new pair look just right on the cobblestone streets. I didn’t get a start on my day until noon; I couldn’t fall asleep until 4am. Diomira was lovely as usual and made me espresso. I’d been planning to go to the Vatican on Tuesday, with aims to go early in the morning to beat crowds, but that wasn’t able to happen. In my research, I learned that the Vatican had a dress code, and spent some time in the morning thinking about what to wear in order to fit that dress code. Initially I put on a dress, since they’re so much easier to wear in this heat, but then I settled on covering both my knees and shoulders (which they advise). I went through three or so outfit changes in order to find a “modest yet comfortable” look — there’s no way I was going to wear full-length jeans in 80 degree weather with 85% humidity. I left the house, and in less than five minutes of being outside, it begins to rain. Actually, no. It begins to downpour. I was so confused…is this what it’s like in Florida? Less picturesque outside, obviously, but…why didn’t anyone tell me it was going to be like Florida? Everyone around me was startled as well — no one had umbrellas, we huddled under a tree and waited 10 minutes or so for it to pass. I got a little annoyed. I got pretty wet. Then I started to worry that they wouldn’t let me into the Vatican because I was wet. JOKES ON ME LOOKS LIKE I DIDN’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING IN REGARDS TO WARDROBE! I was so irked, to be honest. There were hundreds of people entering in tank tops, shorts, baseball caps, etc. Why bother having rules if nobody’s going to enforce them? Here’s an ironic tidbit: since I’ve been here, I felt the most “scared” as a woman traveling alone at the Vatican. Looks like the holy place attracts some creeps. There have been people (mostly men…actually, all men) trying to sell me (and others) things throughout the trip, but as soon as you don’t respond or keep walking, they leave you alone. NOT HERE. They are SO pushy. It was uncomfortable. Okay, on to the good stuff. A blanket statement: the whole thing is outrageously surreal to experience. Like, the amount of times I’ve watched the Pope on TV, and that’s the exact same shot as what I’m seeing in real life? Or it’s the real thing from a textbook? CRAZYTOWN. St. Peter’s Basilica! The church was breathtaking. I spent a long, long time there — it’s so huge and each little room is so beautiful I could die. The Pieta! THE REAL ONE! Bernini pillars! THE REAL ONES! Although it was crowded, they do a pretty good job of controlling flow in there (unlike its Vatican Museum counterparts). My favorite moment inside the church was with the holy water font. Besides being wonderfully ornate and held by two marble cherubim, there was a mother with her son a few steps in front of me who were taking their time. Then, as I got closer, I saw that the son was in a wheelchair and probably has been his entire life, and she was trying so hard to get his arm to extend from the wheelchair to the bowl. He eventually did, and it was such an impactful moment. I went under the basilica to the tombs of the popes. That was something I didn’t know existed — obviously, it was kinda out there in the ether in my mind, but I’d never seen an image of it before, so I didn’t know what to expect. It’s…interesting. Such elaborate displays for someone who’s dead, but when you’re connected to a legacy like that of the papacy, I guess it’s only fitting. After the basilica, I walked to the Vatican Museums. The entire thing was like something out of a dream. There is so much stuff. So many statues. So many paintings. So many antiquities. They even have modern art. It was too much to process. The grandeur associated with all of this art is so intense. I guess after millennia of taking people’s money and hiring the best artists to depict the only legal theological practice out there, you really are left with some gems! I had so many legitimate moments of awe and surprise in the museums. Certain things I knew I’d see, like the Sistine Chapel. And, believe me, it was incredible. The ceiling…is so high up. WAY higher than I ever thought. MICHELANGELO. MY GUY. AMAZING WORK. But there were things I forgot lived in the Vatican (or maybe just never knew). LIKE THE SCHOOL OF ATHENS?! You mean everyone’s favorite Raphael fresco depicting philosophy? MY HEART STOPPED. I couldn’t handle it! And THE GEOGRAPHY ROOM. The geography room. That’s what I’ll call it — I believe it’s true name is the Gallery of Maps. IT WAS SO COOL. If you don’t know this, I really like geography (and cartography, in tow). This room was so ornate. So neat. It depicted different regions of Italy as frescoes…I loved it so much. It was such a difficult room to capture on camera, but I did get “Sicilia” and “Liguria” just so I could document two of the regions my ancestors are from! After the museums, I got some gelato. At a place called Gelateria Old Bridge. They had a winning hazelnut. It was around 5pm, I was tired already, but I felt like I needed to do more. On the way over to Vatican City, I passed Castel Sant’Angelo, which my friend recommended to see if I could, because it’s really cool inside. I thought I’d walk over and at least see the exterior, check out the crowd. I ended up buying a ticket, and wasn’t really feeling it, but knew I’d be out of there shortly. OR SO I THOUGHT. THIS PLACE IS SO FREAKING AMAZING. It’s origins lie with Hadrian as a sort of mausoleum, but then the popes took it over and made it this castle. It was used for military matters, religious matters, and everything in between. It’s dedicated to Saint Michael the Archangel (hence the name) and my lord they have the best views of the city. It was INCREDIBLE. On the way back home, I stopped inside the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere — I walked a different route home than usual, and it took me past this church. I’d heard about it online and from a friend, so I wanted to step inside. It was completed in 1143! So old! So beautiful! So pre-Renaissance! A lack of perception adorns golden mosaics, but they are still beautiful. Someone stopped me on the street and thought I was Italian! (It’s the Supergas.) They asked for a good bar with live music. They really didn’t know their audience. I am very tired, but am still having trouble sleeping. It’s raining as I write this, so maybe that will sooth me to sleep.

[gracieminabox]

I hope its okay to ask this since your mostly a fandom blog but I saw something today on facebook about something called CPC's and that they arent actually even clinics at all. Is this true and if it is how can I know the difference between one of these places and a real pregnancy clinic?

This is a phenomenal and extremely important question, Nonie, and I’m super glad you asked it.

“CPC” stands for “crisis pregnancy center.” These are anti-abortion, usually religiously-affiliated organizations with a business model that is constructed on using whatever means possible to dissuade someone from having an abortion. CPC staff (many times just volunteers) perform limited ultrasounds - which are frequently inaccurate; I have stories, which I’ll detail below - and “counseling” which includes propaganda on various “dangers” of abortion. (In reality, the safety profile of abortion is exceptionally high - you run a 10-15x greater chance of complication with childbirth.) Many times these CPCs offer material assistance, e.g. diapers, if the pregnant person agrees to continue the pregnancy; rarely if ever do they actually come through. There is virtually never an actual physician on site. CPCs are also central participants in many abortion protests; many of the regular protesters outside our clinic are affiliated with a CPC in our area.

(Worse, in many states, CPCs are taxpayer-funded, and in most states, CPCs are not legally required to inform people that they do not provide abortions at their facility, further confusing the public.)

NOTE: There is exactly one exception in the country that I know of that is an exception to the rule of CPCs being absolute shitbags, and that is All Options Pregnancy Resource Center in Indiana. They are explicitly pro-choice and do actually provide unbiased counseling on pregnancy options, material assistance to people continuing their pregnancies, and financial assistance to those terminating. They are wonderful and do not deserve to be lumped in with the rest of these organizations.

How do you tell the difference between a CPC and a legit medical provider? Well, it’s hard as hell for a layperson to do, but I do have some tips.

-Look at the name. Obviously, if it explicitly says “crisis pregnancy center” in the name, run. Another frequently cited term is “pregnancy resource center.” Also, does the name sound religious? Is there a reference to god, life, or “heart” in it? It is almost certainly a CPC. (Also, “hope” is a frequently used word in naming a CPC - however, I know of one very wonderful small chain of clinics that use the term “hope” in their name, so that’s a guideline more than anything else.)

-What are the politics of your state? The redder you are, the more CPCs you have. In Texas, the CPC to legit abortion provider ratio is nearly nine to one. CPCs are crafty; they set up business where they know people are most vulnerable. Legit providers are more likely to be in urban areas. If your county is reasonably small, it is unlikely there is a provider in your county - approximately 88% of counties in the United States have no abortion providers at all - but it’s completely possible that you have a CPC in your county.

-Check the National Abortion Federation’s Find A Provider tool or abortion.com’s state by state directory of abortion providers. If they appear on there, they’re legit for sure. (Note: These directories do not include every single abortion provider in the country, so even if they’re not on here, it does not necessarily mean they’re not legit - this is more a “be reassured if they’re there, do more research if they’re not” tool.)

-Kick it old school and look in the yellow pages. CPCs will be listed under “Abortion Alternatives.” Legitimate medical providers will be listed under “Abortion Providers” or “Abortion Services.”

-If you’re looking at Planned Parenthood specifically, know that PP is always going to brand itself as such; it will never go by a different name.

-Check the website of the center. This is the website of a legitimate abortion provider. This is the website of a CPC. Note the difference in terminology; the use of the (medically inaccurate) term “unborn baby” is a huge red flag. Note, too, the discussion of “serious side effects and risks” - without context, without any discussion of the profound rarity of serious complications, and designed to scare the person reading it.

-Worst case scenario? Message me and ask; I’d be happy to look into it.

What kind of bullshit can CPCs pull? Allow me to elaborate.

-I had a prenatal patient who was a rape survivor who initially wanted abortion but was scared out of it by a CPC that promised to offer her material assistance if she continued the pregnancy. She did so, and after she gave birth, returned to the CPC asking for their help. They gave here a six-pack of diapers in a size her child could not even use plus a onesie that said “My Mommy Chose Life” on it. That was it. When she returned asking for additional assistance, she was refused.

-I was doing a pre-abortion ultrasound on a patient. After I assured her we were fine to proceed with her abortion, she asked me, “so, it’s a boy, right?” She was only six weeks pregnant; the absolute earliest I’ve been able to identify fetal sex on an ultrasound is about fourteen weeks. I told her it was far too early for that to be determined, that embryos don’t even have external genitalia at where she was in the pregnancy; she told me she’d gone to a CPC where they flipped the screen around and showed her the ultrasound and told her “that’s your son.”

-I was doing a pre-abortion ultrasound on a (different) patient. She requested to see the image, so after I got the measurements I needed, I turned the screen so she could see. She immediately panicked: “Where are its arms and legs?!” I explained that, at nine weeks, limb development is only rudimentary; arms and legs are rarely, if ever, identifiable on ultrasound. She told me she went to a CPC and was shown an image of a fetus with formed long bones that was moving on-screen - based on her description, it sounded like a 12+ week fetus.

-I mentioned above that a CPC is backing many of the protesters that stand outside our clinic every day and hurl abuse at my patients. They have a “mobile pregnancy van” that they park on the curb outside the clinic to try to lure patients inside. I am told that, inside, there is an ultrasound machine and a Catholic priest. At least four of my patients have been late to their appointments because they were confused by the presence of the van, went inside, and then were not allowed to leave, to the point of someone physically barricading the doors. (Which I think meets the legal definition of kidnapping, but none of my patients wanted to call the police - understandably so.)

-A CPC once learned where I lived (when I lived elsewhere) and I had literature about going to hell and blood on my hands and “we can help you escape!” (from working in abortion care) in my mailbox and on my car every goddamn day for two months until I involved law enforcement.

-A recent patient of mine went to a CPC. She had STI screening while she was there, which came back positive for chlamydia. The CPC refused to actually treat her. (I guess they thought it was just desserts for having sex…?) We had to treat her ourselves before her abortion.

-I have seen three patients told by a CPC they were pregnant when they were not. I have seen two patients told by a CPC that they had normal pregnancies, including an embryo/fetus with cardiac activity on ultrasound, who in reality had had, or were actively having, miscarriages. I have seen one patient told by a CPC that she had a normal pregnancy including an embryo with cardiac activity on ultrasound whose pregnancy was actually ectopic, requiring emergency surgery to save the patient’s life.

-There is also this excerpt from the phenomenal This Common Secret, a book written by Susan Wicklund, a now-retired abortion provider:

I had a patient in the clinic who really did not want an abortion but who had no resources to cover the costs of prenatal care or childbirth. She was single and without insurance coverage but made just enough money to be ineligible for state assistance. She already had outstanding bills at the hospital and with the local ob-gyn practice. No doctor would see her without payment up front.

We were willing to do the abortion for a reduced rate or for free if necessary. But she really didn’t want an abortion. Once I understood her situation, I went to the phone and called the local ‘crisis pregnancy center.’

“Hello, this is Dr. Wicklund.”

Dead silence. I might as well have said I was Satan.

“Hello?” I said again. “This is Dr. Wicklund.”

“Hello,” very tentatively, followed by another long silence.

“I need help with a patient,” I said. She came to me for an abortion, but really doesn’t want one. What she really needs is someone to do her prenatal care and birth for free.“

“What do you expect us to do?”

I let that hang for a minute.

Kinda says it all, doesn’t it?

Tl;dr - crisis pregnancy centers are fucking terrible businesses that are founded in their entirety on lying to people for the benefit of their own agenda. They do not provide legitimate medical care, they do not provide abortions, they do not provide prenatal care, they do not facilitate legal adoptions, they do not provide contraception, they do not do jack shit, other than shaming and lying to people. Under no circumstances should anyone ever be forced to encounter a CPC, but it can be very tricky to tell whether or not you’re dealing with one. I hope this helps clarify how you might try.

By all means, if you have other questions, please ask them. I will talk about this subject until I’m blue in the face.

[leadmind-the-drone]

i am simply Extremely Tired(trademark)

The idea that you have to love your parents just because they’re your parents or whatever is such bullshit. Like, yeah, congrats, you created me, cool. I didn’t ask you to, not to mention you’re kind of a dick.

This viewpoint of mine is amplified whenever I speak to my mother. 8 times out of 10, it’s usually an argument over some stupid shit she won’t let go of. For example, last night she was particularly bitchy (I’d use a more PG word but I’m too filled with teen angst at the minute, oops) because I, and I quote, “had a boring personality”.

Fuck off.

To elaborate, she was mad because I didn’t like doing things with her, mad that I didn’t leave the house all that often. This is a fucking stupid thing to be angry over for a few reasons.

1. I don’t have a car, and I’m not old enough to have one. Where the fuck would I even go if I left the house? Not like I have friends to visit or whatever. Not to mention, people are fucking dying because this damn country can’t figure out how to keep a piece of cloth over its face for more than a minute. I’d rather stay as far as possible from anyone else anyway.

2. I can barely have a conversation longer than 5 minutes with my mother without making some comment that puts her in a mood. Why on earth would I wanna do things with her if I can barely speak to the damn woman?

3. My mother and I have very little in common. We have like, one hobby we both enjoy, and even then she’s kinda ruining it for me. There’s really not much for us to even do together.

But that’s not the end of it. After she told me I had a “boring” personality, she went on to say, “Having a family is nothing like how you’d think it be. We don’t even do anything together, because you’re all always glued to your phones. It’s like we aren’t even a family.”

Okay, maybe not an exact quote, but that was the gist of it. I could rant about how annoyed that makes me, but it’s not even worth it. She’ll never see this and even if I argued back, she’d probably just yell at me. I swear, she never even tries to understand my point of view. I can’t win with her at all. Once I was legitimately in tears begging her to stop yelling at me (this was a few months ago, but I can’t bring myself to forgive and forget. Grudges must run in my family or something) and guess what? She kept going. Begging doesn’t work, yelling back definitely doesn’t, and neither does trying to explain how I feel. It’s like she doesn’t even want to find a solution to the problem, she just wants to bitch and moan about how awful I am. Thanks mom, doin’ absolute wonders for my confidence. And she wonders why I’m so insecure! What a fucking mystery, better hire a detective for that one!

Not to mention, she does this fun little thing where she argues with me pointlessly, makes a big show out of claiming that she’ll “never talk to me or ask me anything again”, refuses to speak to me and completely ignores my presence, and then goes back to cracking jokes like everything’s fine and dandy.

What the hell.

 I can’t even begin to describe my utter confusion at the stuff she does sometimes. Kinda regretting spending a decent chunk of my day trying to pick out a good Christmas gift for her. Maybe when the day rolls around, I’ll just keep the gift I bought hidden in my closet and tell her, “I think I’ll be keeping my Bath and Bodyworks candle, thank you.” just to be equally petty. Even then, I couldn’t match her ~~elegant and mature response to conflict~~.

Well, my anger has mellowed out and I feel significantly better. Still not in the mood to talk to her that much. Hope whoever’s reading this had a better time last night. Happy Holidays.

-leadmind

#journal #online diary

[tea-books-rain]

Book Review: A Beautiful Composition of Broken by R.H. Sin

Warning: I hated this book. I go after it really hard Inserting a read-more just for length.

I’m going to start this review with an excerpt. Two excerpts, actually. I couldn't decide which was more... erm... appropriate. You'll see.

From page 77:

The Tights You Wear.

wrapped around both thighs black hues and heather grays beginning at the waist ending just at the ankles forcing me to pay homage to your curves

From page 299:

6:16p.m.:

utilizing my tongue as a stress reliever pressing pressure points creating a climax provoking pleasure with ease opening you right up because my tongue is the key

-- This was, without a doubt, the worst collection of poetry I have ever beheld in my entire life. I feel like I could exfoliate with steel wool in the shower and I still wouldn't be rid of the absolute creepiness I've been exposed to within these pages. It is vile. It is demeaning. It is derogatory. It is falsely feminizing, toxicly masculine, and the attention-mongering is real. I have a lot to say about it.

A single moment of disclosure, I didn't actually finish this book. It's 461 pages long. I threw up the white flag of surrender on page 300. I couldn't take another page. I'll explain more in a bit.

Before I get into my full lambasting, however, I do want to say something nice about this book. I genuinely appreciate seeing a male poet so ready to embrace the idea of writing about love and about how it's OK to want love and to want a relationship, instead of just an OKCupid hookup or whatever. That was a nice, refreshing sentiment. If you aren't super-rooted in third-wave feminism (which I admittedly am, and which we'll also get into), you'll probably think this book is amazing. It offers just enough love, enough longing for respect, etc, to be good.

Another positive I want to say about this book is that some of the poems are legitimately good. There are plenty of redeemable poems that have nothing wrong, weird, or unhealthy in them. I'd say 25% of them are fantastic, normal, solid poems with good ideas and thoughts. I was drawing little hearts next to them. In fact, this book is so long enough that if they were collected up and all of the crappy, chauvinistic, toxic poems were removed, he still would have been able to publish a book, it'd just be more like a regularly sized poetry book instead of this insane tome.

That said, the good poems in this book are surrounded by so many poems that are - for lack of better phrasing - complete and utter bullshit, I couldn't take the good poems seriously. For example, there was a very nice poem about how R.H. Sin likes to get to know a girl's mind before he touches her body. This is well and good. It's a valid sentiment. However, it comes in at about page 250. The leggings poem listed above is on page 77. If what you're wearing to walk down the street means he can whistle at you, then what really comes first? What does he really care about?

So for me, the positive sides weren't enough to redeem this collection. I don't even know where to start with my issues regarding this work. I think I'm going to list them out and then elaborate one by one, just so I personally don't get lost ranting. I highly disliked how Sin paraded around like he was one of the feminists but he clearly isn't, I didn't like the whiplash from one poem to the next, the sheer amount of contradictions within the messages he's trying to bring forward, the toxic masculinity so clearly made evident, and the way he views love in general.

I think I'm going to tackle the love issue first, actually. This might have been what bothered me the most. R.H. Sin's idea of how love works, according to this book, is that it only has to do with being earned. If you just work hard enough, if you throw enough flowers at a pretty-lookin girl, if you just say the right words and put in the elbow grease, everything will be dandy. Then, when that's not how love works, he gets incredibly frustrated and blames it on the girl who left him. He sulks like a 5 year old who had a toy taken away, bemoaning that he loved her so hard and she didn't care about him at all and she never deserved him and blahblahblah. It eventually devolves into saying "well I don't care about anyone" (which we'll get into under the toxic masculinity section), before the entire process repeats itself again and again and again. About every 10-15 pages, it repeats. By page 300, he still hadn't learned what was going wrong here.

And I'm not saying that love doesn't require work, ok? It does. Being in a relationship means making decisions for 2, taking another person into account, worrying about them, checking in with them, etc. But being in love is also something relatively mundane. It's thinking someone is cute. It's having similar interests, a general respect for them, a general attraction. Within the poems presented here, I highly doubt R.H. Sin understands that. He genuinely seems confused that a woman might arbitrarily not be into him simply because she's not into him. He writes about women is like they're just prizes to be won over.

I think this ties into the toxic masculinity theme, so I'm going to dive into that next. This part isn't so obvious. R.H. Sin is definitely pretending like he's third-wave. He says all the magic words: he uses "women" and "warrior" in the same sentence multiple times, he has a whole poem using the word independence, he says women are strong, he even has a poem that says, "I hate this idea of a woman being silent."

But don't be fooled by the catch-phrases, kiddos! He's faking. If you read the excerpt at the beginning of this review, by page 77 you're already gonna know he clearly thinks that the decision to wear leggings is an open invitation for him to check you out on the sidewalk. If you choose not to like him, then you're just not good enough for him anyway and you never deserved his love. By the 200s, he's going to admit flat-out he knows women are silent because they're done with your shit--but he already said he hates it when women were quiet.

As if that's not contradictory enough, he starts gaslighting with his poems. He says he doesn't like silent women, but then he writes a poem "you don't have to explain why you left to the person who made you leave." He says you're allowed to leave anyone, but if you leave him, then you never meant anything. It's nonsense. It's infantile.

And that brings me to my main point of the toxic masculinity: R.H. Sin didn't admit a single fault about himself in all of the 300 pages I slogged through. Every. Single. Time. something went wrong, the finger was pointed at someone else. It was always that someone didn't love him enough, that they didn't understand him, that they wanted to leave, that they decided to choose Mr. Wrong over him, etc. Even people who had criticized his poetry meant nothing to him and were just jealous. He was completely and utterly incapable of sitting back, critically thinking through a situation, and admitting that he had any sort of flaw in his behavior or his logic.

As another example, there's a poem on page 160 that says, "I've come to the realization that loving a woman means making an effort to make her smile at all times." This is a terrible, terrible idea. Love is so much more than smiles. Trying to make someone happy 24/7 is the perfect basis for a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship. Does he get this? No. By page 219 he's saying "trying and trying is something that i'll no longer do. loving you until i realize that it'll change nothing. these things take time and i'm patient." No, you literally just don't understand what love is and you're glamorizing an unhealthy relationship dynamic, then having the audacity to turn around and behave like this act of self-sacrifice somehow earns you brownie points. It doesn't.

Anyway, I think that covers all of my major points. As a final note, I do have to say I thoroughly enjoyed ripping this book to pieces. I'm a firm believer in annotations and dog ears. This book looks more loved than my copy of Milk and Honey, which I've read... six times, I believe? Which is not bad considering I literally didn't even finish this book. My Snapchat story is littered with sassy annotations I added to the pages. My love interest, who doesn't even believe in annotations, was begging me to add further commentary and thoroughly joining in on the rampage against the godawful poetry and the godawful ideas R.H. Sin presents in this book. It was decidedly much more fun that if I'd actually spent the day reading a poetry book I enjoyed. In fact, if you want to get some thorough stress-relief by way of ranting about bad ideas of love, I'd solidly recommend this book. It's great for that.

Other than that, yeah, it's a really crappy book. My sincere apologies for whoever gets my copy after I get rid of it, both because the book sucks and my annotations surely do not improve on the theme. Yeah.

#book review #rhsin #a beautiful composition of broken #rh sin #poetry #booklr #bookblr