#is val actually a shithead

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

what about Valentino, Vox and maybe Stolas when their card declines on a date,yk those couple of gut wrenching awkward seconds before their s/o nervously offers to pay. Thank you in advance if you take this up <3

Wait, what?!

Valentino

"I'm sorry sir, your card declined."

Val sat there for several moments, mind taking a minute as he'd never actually heard those words in that order directed at him.

Turning away from you, he'd stare at the server, the feline demon patiently standing there.

Val sat there for another minute, comprehending the utter fucking audacity of a bitch.

"Your fucking with me right?"

He asked, genuinely giving her a chance to back peddle.

When she just kept standing there, Val jumped to his feet, scowl flaring crossing his features.

"Bitch, I dont need a fucking card, I own the fucking building!" He screamed at her, the girl stumbling back.

He'd go off, snarling at the girl for disrupting your date night, and for something so fucking stupid.

By the end of his rant the restaurant owner had come out, trying to mediate the situation.

He'd chewing him out, asking what kind of incompetent shitheads he hired.

As he did, you'd approach, placing a hand on him. He'd spin around, prepared to snarl at someone, but quickly backed down, shoulders slumping.

You'd take his hand in your own, leading him back to your table, sitting down.

You'd sit in silence for a little while, the restaurant popping up with some 'Complementary Desserts', the two of you eating in silence before he sighed, taking your hand into his.

"I'm sorry for blowing up like that in front of you." He spoke softly.

He was always sure to keep a certain image for you. He did a lot of bad things, far more then even you knew about, as such he did his best to keep a certain image in your eyes.

And loosing his cool and screaming at some girl wasn't helping said Image.

You sighed, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

"It's alright, I'd probably lose my cool too if my employees asked me something like that."

Val chuckled at that, leaning in to kiss your hand.

"I could apologise to her if you'd like?" He asked softly.

To which you'd laugh, scoffing as you waved him off. "Please, as if. That dumb bitch asked you for a credit card in your own club."

At that Val broke into laughter, getting up and stantching you up, kissing you deeply as he carried you out of the restaurant, the two of you only kissing deeper as you left the restaurant, your kissing only getting more heated as you made it to your Limo.

Vox

The night had been set up so perfectly.

He'd gotten a reservation at an extremely classy joint, but not too classy. He wanted it to be like 'yeah, I've got a shit tone of money, but we can still talk without people glaring at us'. That kinda fancy.

So there you were, at the end of an incredible meal, the two of you dining on some very tasty deserts when Vox had given his card, a Luxury very few in Hell had, to pay for your meal.

And as the server came back, the man expecting to be given his card back, instead the server leaned in, speaking those simple words.

"I'm sorry sir, your card was declined."

The Television headed Demon froze, screen glitching as he processed what the actual Hell they'd just said.

Vox turned to the server, staring at them for several moments before he got up, grabbing the server before getting up, and spinning them around, growling at him what the fuck he meant.

He fucking dragged the server away, getting the fucking manager, the two having an exceptionally unsubtle screaming match in the kitchen at the insult to him, Vox, fucking King Teck of Hell, having his fucking card brought back.

After some apologetic words from the manager and getting your meal comped, he'd return.

He'd act as though nothing happened, the man acting all cool and composed, while you just went along with it, finishing your deserts.

And despite the incident, you'd go on to have a lovely night, the man taking you back to his place where you ended the night on a spectacular note.

You had tea, and suggled on a couch and just shared some wholesome intimacy.

Stolas

The night was going incredibly.

You'd been enjoying your meal, talking and laughing, telling stories and jokes, it felt like the science block of a highschool, cause you had chemistry.

The night was going so well, that he was barely aware when he paid the bill, the man in the middle of a hilarious story when the server came back.

"Your card was declined."

He spoke bluntly, with no tact whatsoever.

Stolas froze, head snapping up at him, a frown quickly crossing his face as he stared at the server, the man simply staring back, hand extended, clearly expecting payment.

And so, without missing a beat, Stolas raised his hand, still with a frown, he'd wave his hand, a portal about the size of a dinner plate appearing besides him, before he simply reached in, before pulling out a sack, dropping it before him, the sack opening to reveal a small stack of golden coins.

Pulling out a few he dropped them into there servers hand, telling him bluntly.

"For the bill. No tip."

The server, grumbling to himself, turned and left, the man growling all the way.

Clearing his throat, he'd adjust his attire before turning back to you, finishing his story.

You'd go on to have another desert, Stolas paying with gold, expecting full change.

Which he'd get, with a saide of stink eye from the man.

After the desert and another glass of wine, you'd head back to his, and after another bottle of wine, you'd end up sleeping together.

No, not sex. You'd curl up on one of Stolas' more comfortable couches, the big owl man holding you close, the events of the night long gone from your mind as you slept the night away, comfy and happy in his embrace.

#helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #hazbin hotel #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #helluva boss stolas #stolas ars goetia #stolas x reader

[alastorslittledoe]

Stay With Me

|| Vox smut ||

You have returned after a few days at the Hazbin Hotel, gathering information for the Vee’s. Vox is incredibly pent up from the wait.

|| This is an exert from my Alastor x Reader (contrary to the smut w/ Vox lmfao) fic on wattpad! ||

|| Link if you wanna read: https://www.wattpad.com/story/364068325?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=pastelkitty69 ||

Tags: daddy kink, Vox being rough, blowjob, dom Vox, fem reader

***

"So, dollface, tell me" Vox taps his claws against his desk, leaning back to look at you "what have you learned from that shithole?"

"Vox" you roll your eyes "I haven't even been there two days, and I spent last night drunk off my ass" you decided to leave out the parts that involved the Radio Demon.

"Well that's not really a fucking help, is it?" He snaps "God, I sent you there to be fucking useful, Y/N, not get all pally with the shitheads"

You smirk "I wouldn't let Val hear you say that, it was with Angel"

"I don't give a SHIT who you were with" he takes a long stride to you, grabbing your jaw harshly and tilting your face up to him "I need information"

"Okay! Okay" You attempt to swat his hand away. It doesn't work.

"Fine" You breathe heavily "I'm roomed next to Alastor. If he does anything, I'll be the first to know, V"

He stares at you for a long moment before releasing you, your head twists to the side from the force. You rub your jaw, eyeing him.

"That's...good...we can work with that" He nods thoughtfully, a small loading circle in the corner of his screen "yeah, that's really fuckin good"

You smile. You hated that his praise meant so much to you.

"Yeah, Voxy, I got you" You wink "Don't be so stressy" you saunter over to him and gently place your hands on his shoulders, starting to massage them cautiously.

He lets out a quiet sigh and leans back into your touch.

Gotcha.

You slowly lean forward, leaving a pepper trail of kisses down his neck, mumbling between kisses "Were you worried I was leaving you for them?"

He stiffens slightly. Maybe you'd pushed it too far. But then he says, quietly "Perhaps"

That you didn't expect. Vox never showed any appreciation for you, except for in bed.

"Well" you swallow, about to tell the biggest lie you'd told during your stay in hell thus far "I'd never leave you, I promise"

A carnal growl escapes him and he whips around to face you, quickly capturing your lips on his. You always think it best...not to think about the technicalities of kissing Vox. There was no possible way to explain how his lips felt so real behind that screen. And he was incredible at it.

He leads you backward between kisses until you reach his bed.

"You're mine" he growls, shoving you down.

You bounce as you hit the soft surface, smirking up at him "Prove it"

He crawls onto the bed and pushes your legs apart, slotting himself between and staring down at you with those glowing red eyes.

He grabs the neckline of your top with both hands and rips it in half, chucking the stray fabric aside.

"Did I ever tell you...your tits are so fucking gorgeous, dollface" He murmurs, leaning down and nipping harshly at one of your buds. You gasp, back arching into him. You could already feel his pants straining against you.

"Fuck...Vox" You mumble needily

He smirks against your breast. He loved when you said his name. It was akin to a drug for him. Which is exactly why he couldn't have you moaning it too often. Vox had no idea why he liked you, and he tried his best to not like you, actually. Considering you technically belonged to Val. But by god, did he enjoy the moments where you were sprawled out bare for him.

He pulls back and stares down at you, your perked nipples and flushed face. Fuck it. He didn't need to be inside you yet. But he did need his cock inside that pretty mouth of yours.

Vox grabs your hips and yanks you backward as he zips into a nearby camera, you fall onto the floor clumsily, gasping and looking around nervously. Vox appears a moment later across the room, shirtless, strolling over and slowly unbuckling his belt, chuckling

"My apologies, doll, did that hurt?"

"No, sir" your bright eyes blink up at him, mouth almost drooling as slowly unzips his pants. He meets you, standing over you with a smirk. You knew calling him that drove him insane.

"Well?" he drawls "Get my cock out. And suck"

You feel the slick between your thighs and close them tightly as you move to your haunches, fiddling somewhat clumsily with his zipper. He would never admit it to anyone, but he found it oddly alluring that he knew you were extremely skilled in the bedroom and yet, when it came to the real thing, it was almost innocent.

You finally lowered his pants enough for his cock to spring out. You weren't ashamed to admit you had been pleasantly surprised the first time. You had expected, well...average. Surely a man with such a large ego didn't deserve a massive dick too, right? Wrong. You were so. Fucking. Wrong.

You took his cock in your hand and gave it a few cautious pumps, watching the pre-cum leak from the tip, you giggle playfully, batting your eyes at him and giving it a small kiss.

He groans "Doll..."

A warning.

He grabs your jaw and traces your bottom lip with a blue claw, then slowly, gently, presses it into your mouth. You suck it eagerly. When you open your mouth as he drags it back out, he takes the opportunity and rams his cock deep into your throat. You gag immediately, tears springing into your eyes.

"Good girl" he smirks, cooing "that's it, take daddy's cock"

Now that was new.

You adjust and begin to bob your head, going at a steady pace. Vox groans, you never go quite deep enough to satiate him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, a makeshift ponytail in his hand

"Enough of that, doll" He shoves you down onto his cock once more, ready to cum at the moan that erupts from you around his dick.  He lets himself engulf in the pleasure of your throat, wet, and all his. He waits until you grab at his thigh, clawing for air, before releasing you.

You gasp for air and fall back as he lets you go, a few stray tears slipping down your face. Oh fuck, was he turned on by that sight.

He grabs you and easily throws you back onto the bed, quickly ridding himself of his pants completely and making quick work of tearing your skirt to shreds.

You gulp as he positions himself between your thighs once more "You owe me a new outfit, Vox" you joke breathlessly.

He pauses "What" his screen glitches, eyes turning hypnotic "did you call me, doll?"

You bite your lip "Sorry, daddy"

He nods, pleased, then grabs your hips, yanking you towards him, roughly slamming his cock into you, not even giving you a moments notice. You gasp, a strangled moan escaping as you throw your head back into the sheets.

"Jesus...fuck"

After his initial entrance he continues at an agonisingly slow pace.

"Mmf" You grit your teeth, attempting to move onto your elbows "Vo-" he cuts you off with another sharp thrust. Now you were getting antsy, gritting your teeth "faster"

He raises an eyebrow, chuckling "sorry, doll, who told you YOU were in charge here? If you want me to go faster" He pauses, a painfully slow thrust "beg.”

You clamp your mouth shut.

He takes this as a challenge and presses a claw gently onto your clit, moving in slow circles. Your position on your elbows doesn't last long and you collapse once more, panting in need.

"For fucks sake" you breathe "fucking please, PLEASE, fuck me, I'm begging" 

"That's a good little slut" He grins, showing a row of sharp teeth on his screen and grabs an ankle and places it onto his shoulder. He gives you a last, devastating look before speeding up his pace.

"Oh- f...nugh...too much-" You choke out

"You" he grunts "chose this."

He was right, of course.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he resumes the assault on your clit with his claws. The coil in your stomach builds until Vox can feel you, so tightly pressed against his dick he can barely slide in and out of you.

"That's it, dollface" he growls "cum for me"

You cry out as a wave of pleasure rakes through you, your vision temporarily going black as your body convulses against him. Vox groans, an animalistic sound ripping through him as his own orgasm barrels through him, screen glitching in his euphoria. His hips stutter against you as he fills you.

Your leg falls from his shoulder and he collapses onto you, panting hotly.

"Good job, doll" he murmurs against your skin, planting a kiss on one of your breasts before slowly regaining his composure and rising from the bed. You attempt to catch your breath, slowly sitting up.

This was the part you hated, the insecurity that washed over you in sickening waves after being with Vox. Most of the time, he rejected your advances, but then there were times like this that you could count on one hand. The times where he accepted and ruined you so fucking well.

He clears his throat, grabbing his pants from the floor and quickly slipping them on "I'll let Val know you won't be shooting today"

The one blessing whenever Vox took you, he at least had the decency to delay your next set.

You nod, attempting to smile prettily with your fucked out eyes "Thanks, Voxy"

He nods "Oh, doll?"

"Hm?"

"Don't take too long in that shitty hotel. When you're back I want you here"

You tilt your head "I'm always here?"

He glances back at you before he reaches his door "I want you here. In this room. With me"

And with that he left you alone. Uncomfortable and feeling used, as per usual. But staying here, with him? That was new. You had no doubt there was an ulterior motive.

Two days ago that would've set your heart so painfully aflutter it would be physically unbearable. And yet, you couldn't help your mind drifting to the demon you decidedly hated. The one that made your skin crawl and bones ache with your few encounters.

You shake your head.

Well, at least Vox had fucked the hangover away.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin vaggie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin smut #hazbin spoilers #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #smut #vox smut #alastor x reader #vox x reader

[amongemeraldclouds]

preview: better than revenge | chapter three: from moonlight to sunrise

Chapter 3 will be exclusively Mattheo Riddle x Reader! It can even be read as a standalone. It's a flashback to when you first met when he was hurt and you treated his injuries.

Author's note: I've been going back and forth on whether I should do previews or not. I'm way too excited by everything so here we are.

series masterlist | icymi - chapter two: practice?

Flashback when you met me.

I cross my fingers behind me as I think of the right spells. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Mattheo interrupts my thoughts.

“Well, if you must know, I was the top student at my healing magic class level one and two,” I say. 

“Nerd,” he says teasing.

“You’re lucky you’re already injured or I might have a go myself. Now do you want to be treated or not?”

“I’m sorry, go ahead,” he sobers and wonders why the hell he was being such a shithead.

I recall the spells again and keep my fingers crossed behind me. I’ve never actually used them before on a living, breathing human, but he doesn’t need to know that.

A/N: Okay, that's it for now. Stay tuned for the full chapter release coming soon!

series masterlist | icymi - chapter two: practice?

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05

#chapter preview #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #slytherin x reader #slytherin x slytherin #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Random detail about Hazbin Hotel: In the pilot when Vaggie is explaining Alastor to Angel Dust, Husk and Niffty are shown as silhouettes behind Alastor:

They're both shown in similar ways, with their eyes red and a glowing/blurred outline around their silhouettes similar to Alastor's. We also know that Husk is a former Overlord who lost his soul to Alastor in a bet, and since Niffty is shown in the same way as Husk, it's safe to assume she's also a former Overlord who somehow lost her soul to Alastor (given what we know about her, 3 guesses how Alastor got her soul lol).

During Mimzy's explanation of Alastor's past in Hell, she mentions that the only people going missing were Overlords; the only people whose screams were being broadcasted were Overlords'. In the same episode, Alastor's specific threat against Husk is "If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful wretch who dares to question me." In addition to all of this, we know Alastor has a weird moral code described as similar to Dexter's (my understanding of which is based on a brief overview of Dexter's Wikipedia page lol. Don't hate me if I get it wrong). It's also sorta implied that whatever contract Alastor has Husk under is relatively lenient, especially compared to Angel's contract with Valentino. Before Husk was brought to the hotel, he was playing poker, which tells me he can go wherever whenever, unless Alastor has him on a job (as is the case for the series, although if Husk is told to go somewhere else or given permission to by Vaggie or Charlie, he can, which feels a bit more lenient than the contract Val has Angel under).

So what am I trying to imply? I'm wondering if Alastor specifically and exclusively goes after Overlords who aren't great people (for example I can almost guarantee he'd go after Val if he could get away with it). Rosie is also an Overlord and treats people pretty well, so it makes sense to me that Alastor wouldn't attack her and is actually pretty close to her. He also doesn't seem to want Vaggie and Charlie's souls, which tells me he's less concerned with power (which is canon) and more concerned with controlling shitty people. Alastor going after Overlords (and other demons in general) that are shitty people fits with his moral code and also explains a lot about him (I think). Don't get me wrong, I still think he doesn't actually care about anything but his own entertainment, but that's the thing: he lives in Hell. He's probably been nabbing the souls of shitty demons behind the scenes since the start.

Maybe I'm wrong, idk. But genuinely I think Alastor's only gone after Overlords and sinners who do heinous shit to the souls they own. By way of whatever contract he's under? Maybe. But I genuinely think the reason Hell isn't worse in terms of absolute shitheads is because Alastor's there.

maybe Lucifer should thank him idk

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel theory #i think. maybe this is more of a headcanon idk #also feel free to give me input because this was a lot to write down so i don't know if what i said makes sense lol

[dragonfightingsocietea]

just ordered killjoys california!! time to spend my birthday joining the val velocity hate club-

actually i have no idea what to expect from this party poison kinnie ass mf but,, i am excited to see

#is val actually a shithead #someone tell me #i've heard hes hot but also that he sucks #but the hot doesn't do anything for me because #im more of a kara 100% kinda gal if you catch my drift #anyway #killjoys #danger days #mcr #true lives of the fabulous killjoys #val velocity #killjoys california #cali time baby!! #so excited to FINALLY get my hands on this

[starridge]

wait idk if someone has asked this but who would confess first valentine or percy hnavbhsns

i think i have answered this before but it is OKAY!! I’m inclined to say Percy just because I think Val is all talk no action, yknow? like val would flirt with percy but always have the “but there is absolutely No away he actually likes me back” so Percy would have to take the initiative.

but at the same time I could Definitely see Val confessing first, just blurting it out, but being all “but you don’t feel the same way wahhh” like the emo shithead he is. then percy is like “no” and they kiss. :)

#also in my head percy is kinda afraid to admit he’s in love w val #bc he probably confessed to jules and got shot down very coldly #so he’s very Paranoid of it happening again #tldr mutual pining and they’re both too paranoid of the other one not being Gay to confess

[fantasybots]

💖 for Zita and Val uwu

Send a 💖 and I’ll tell you what a relationship would be like with my character:

How likely they are to enter a relationship with them:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Would they…

Make the first move? Yes | No Say “I love you” first? Yes | No Cheat on them? Yes | No Be the jealous type? Yes | No Plan the dates? Yes | No Initiate the first kiss? Yes | No Remember anniversaries? Yes | No Zita is here to be entrapped into a relationship thats actually very important to her but has no idea how to show it or even knowing if she DOES want to show it so she's just a jealous shithead

BOLD WHAT APPLIES:

Their Relationship Is:

friends to lovers | rivals to lovers | enemies to lovers | still just enemies | mutual pining | star crossed lovers | old married couple | perpetual honeymoon phase | stable and boring | stable but not boring | secret lovers | best friends hiding their feelings | and they were roommates | friends with benefits | coworkers avoiding HR | one-sided affection | weird sexual tension | it’s complicated | toxic relationship | a secret affair | an actual dumpster fire | other

PUBLIC Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

PRIVATE Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

Zita doesnt initiate anything because shes a little bitch

Do they stay together?

yes, this is endgame | yes but someone is gonna die tragically | something is keeping them apart | they part ways as friends | they part ways as enemies | they’re on-again-off-again | they have a super messy breakup | it was just a fling | other

BONUS

What terrible pet names would they give each other?

Zita wouldn't give a terrible petname but I can for sure imagine Val calling her all sorts of incredibly embarrassing things

[takaraphoenix]

For the fanfic ask game, could you please do 4, 9, 15, and 19? Really admire the way you write and how you incorporate ideas.

Sure thing, thanks for playing! And thank you for the compliment! ^^

4. Where do your story ideas come from?

Uuuuh from the... me? I don’t know, this question is hard. They just... come to me? Sometimes, I look hard at a ship and say “you. I wanna write you. what tropes/settings fit you?” and thus, I... come up with an idea for it. I want to write something, so I sit down for a moment and come up with something that fits the thing I want to do. Other times, the idea comes to me first - that can be through like around three corners, as in something is cool, I take one aspect of that that I like, I give it a different spin and put it together with a fandom/ship I think would fit. Or it just... comes to me as a total, like standing in the shower and thinking “man I wanna write x”, whereas x is a setting, trope, ship and fandom together already.

9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? why?

Actually refuse to write? At this point, M@ryse. I go outta my way to remove the Lightwoods even from the fics set pre-canon, having them conveniently be in Idris in every scene and just not bringing them up at all during canon events or even post-canon. You can assume, in every single one of my fics, that the Lightwood kids cut ties with their parents. I have zero (0) time to give abusive parents screen time, much less redemption. *

* Valentine can be an exception, due to his importance to the plot, it’s hard not to directly involve him in storeis at times. But I’m more fine with this one than with M@ryse, because at least with Val, canon agreed and stayed constant in that he is a shitty, abusive piece of crap that does not deserve forgiveness. The thing that ticks me off about M@ryse is that canon pretended that one “sowwy :(” is enough to make all her kids forgive her and canon pretended that “my hubby cheated on me :(” is... is... a justifiable reason to be a crappy, emotionally abusive parent (and I will sink my teeth into anyone who comes into my blog trying to defend her or argue that the way she treated Isabelle wasn’t a degree of neglectiveness and manipulation that was emotional abuse, or that calling Jace “a cancer” and being so ready to drop him from the family tree that she poisoned Max against her wasn’t emotionally abusive like ffs children aren’t a selective that you can keep if they are Fun And Bring Honor and then treat like this when they become slightly a burden, that shit is abusive).

I just... generally am not in the business of bashing characters in a fic, so I elect to leave it at “look at what she did, in actual canon, thus the Lightwoods cut her out”.

15. At what point in writing a fic, do you decide to quit?

Quit? That is such a weird question? Or just a weird phrasing? Does this mean decide that the fic ends there? Like, finding an ending? xD

Usually, that one is a numbers game for me, tbh. Otherwise no fic would ever end because you see after high school graduation they can go to college and then they can get jobs and then they can get married and have kids and grow old and die of old age. There is no natural end to a romance-focused story unless ya take the most natural end of death. And even that is not a hindrance in many universes, such as PJO.

So, I generally... set a length, often beforehand, sometimes only during the writing. Fics are either 3, 5, 7, 10, 12, 15, 20 or 25 pages long (anything longer than 25 pages gets split into chapters). I have enough experience at this point to know what approximate page number a certain plot will require, though sometimes they do get bumped up a number because I put more background/side elements in than originally anticipated.

Usually, the goal is for the main pairing to get together and that’s it; occasionally covering a bit of the relationship (generally, a sex-scene). But I’m in the business of writing getting-together-stories, not so much slice-of-life stuff. Exploring the relationships only happens in multi-chapter fics for me, in which case I decide how long it’ll be in... the exact same rhythm as page count - a multi-chapter fic has a chapter length of either 3, 5, 7, 10, 12, 15, 20 or 25.

19. How do you handle negative comments?

I have my Dear Anonymous Shitheads tag for those! :)

I like mocking assholes, who really think they’re doing something revolutionary by being homophobic/rude/assholes in the comments. It’s fun to point at them and laugh.

And then I delete the original comment, because ya know, I don’t like shitstains on my fics. Looks nasty.

Fanfic Writer Ask

#Anti Maryse Lightwood #because I did go off :D" #Writing #About Me #Fanfic Writer Ask Game #send me asks #Anonymous

[7deadlycinderellas]

if the summer of lives could just come again, ch24

AO3 link

 Dragonstone

Tyrion doesn’t have the most extensive experience with queens. When the ruling monarch's consort for half of your life has been the sister who despises you, one learns to take even that experience with a grain of salt.

So, to say he’s apprehensive about meeting this so-called Dragon Queen, is putting it lightly.

“Any word from King’s Landing as of late?” he asks Varys one day when they’re still waiting about the castle. The keep had been nearly deserted when the pair had made the journey. Stannis had taken a number of his men, and his wife as well, when he sailed north.

And many more of them had been pulled away, Tyrion learned, when the men from the Iron Islands had begun attacking Storm’s End. Despite their feud, Tyrion knew Stannis would consider it his duty to aid his brother’s men.

Now the only people who remain at Dragonstone are the beleaguered castellan and a handful of household servants. These people hadn’t even spared Tyrion and Varys a second glance when they had arrived. It was nearly perfect.

“Word is that our queen has given birth to a healthy baby boy. She has named him Gerold. The smallfolk have taken to calling her Good Queen Margaery, and her child the golden cub.”

Tyrion nods. It’s a good pick. Suitably kingly and honoring a Lannister remembered as clever and fair. There were too few of those lately.

“Do we have any idea of what our impending visitor will mean for her?”

Varys’s expression is solemn.

“One would not expect good things to come to a regent when someone who feels they have a birthright to the throne returns. “Usurper” is the word I would expect to hear thrown around.”

Tyrion takes a deep breath. Varys’s assessment is indeed accurate.

“Whatever our dear queen’s cunning ambitions leading her to the throne, I must say her rule has been nothing but benevolent for nearly everyone. She shouldn’t be held responsible for the present or future behavior of her husband or his hand.”

“Do you think she will be?”

Varys smiles, though a bit uncertain.

“Our queen is a clever woman indeed, though I do hope she’s not too clever by half. There are many stories that have made it across the narrow sea about Danaerys Targaryan, Mother of Dragons. One tells that she had a husband and child, both of whom were lost to her. Others say that she believes herself to be barren.”

Tyrion is shocked by that. Targaryan or not, a royal needed heirs.

“If I was still an advisor to the queen, I would suggest her best course of action would be to throw herself on the Dragon Queen’s mercy and hope they can find some common ground. “

That might be best. As hard as she worked to put herself on the throne, Tyrion can’t imagine Margaery giving it up easily. This is what he’s still thinking about when the wind begins to change, and he sees movement on the horizon over the water.

Tyrion is awash as the creatures come towards land out of the mists. The stories could never do dragons justice. His imagination as a child had not been enough.

But his eyes are soon drawn away from the figures circling the skies. He doesn’t even catch a glimpse of their rider.

He’s been distracted by the small fleet of ships on the bay below her.

“Are...are those Ironborn ships?” he asks Varys.

Varys’s eyes are actually uncertain.

“It appears they are. Perhaps this story will have a few more complications than expected.

 Winterfell

Robb, his siblings all muse, is quite possibly one of the only men in all of Westeros, who could go into a holding facility for a group considered ‘savages’ and come out with a politically advantageous betrothal.

They at least had notice, Ned having sent a raven with the news, before they returned so the rest of the Starks could react.

The woman in question was named Val, she was Mance Ryder’s goodsister. Her own sister and goodbrother had been killed in one of the assaults on Castle Black, but her and a small group had managed to flee south, when they had been captured at the Last Hearth.

We know they don’t give her any kind of importance to her position, Ned writes them. They chose Mance to lead them, they didn’t choose her. Despite this, they do listen to what she says, and they seem to think we’ll lend her some kind of weight to her family connection. They think the alliance will mean more to us because of it.

 I’ve spoken to Robb alone, he’s fine with this choice. He hopes she will get along with her as well. This could play a huge role when the rest of the seven kingdoms find out about the Free Folk coming south of the wall.

This is the first thing that’s come there way that has genuinely shocked any of them.

Arya asks Bran if he remembered anything about Val from before.

Bran frowns before answering “Not much really. She was blonde, fought with a dagger. She and Dalla were both killed when Stannis’s men ambushed Mance’s camp following the assault on Castle Black.”

Arya’s face is curious, a combination of concerned and apprehensive.

“She better be worthy of him.”

Robb and Ned are still a few weeks from returning to Winterfell, so there’s not much to do but continue shoring up the weapon and armor stores, prepare the shipments of both to other holdfasts and continue training.

This particular morning, however, Arya doesn’t feel much like doing anything. So when most of the others are in the training yard practicing, she sits on one of the walkways looking down at them.

After a bit, Meera comes and sits beside her.

“Need a break too?”

Arya nods.

“Sansa and Mother should be getting home later today. Thought I’d save my energy. “

Arya’s face looks pensive and after a moment, Meera asks.

“Are you worried about your brother’s marriage?”

After a bit, Arya nods.

“Robb getting married before led to disaster. He must have known it was wrong, marrying someone else when he was betrothed to a Frey. Betrothed for a fucking bridge. I was too, but I didn’t know that for years later, after I’d slaughtered House Frey.”

Arya suddenly shifts, and she wonders if Meera had ever been told that particular bit of her background.

If she hadn’t been told, her face doesn’t show it.

“If you’re expecting horror from me, you’re not going to get it. The Freys have been nothing but a thorn in my house’s side for generations. I’m actually a little bitter they’re alive again.”

Well at least there’s that, Arya thinks.

“This, an arranged betrothal to someone he’s barely met for the sake of a politically necessary alliance, regardless if he was twice my age or a brute or we hated each other...this was the sort of thing I always thought was the future for me, and that it was set in stone. That’s what I grew up thinking marriage was.”

Meera purses her lips.

“I always meant to ask what it was that made you change your mind about wanting to marry. Everyone here seems to think you had basically sworn to never do it.”

Arya laughs. It’s so strange in retrospect.

“Honestly? When I was traveling north to return to Winterfell, I ran across a couple of Lannister soldiers. I was frightened at first- I’ve seen first hand how soldiers often treat vulnerable women- but they were kind. Shared their fire and their food with me. And one them- he kept going on about his wife at home. Told me about how they were expecting a child, and how he wanted a girl. And it- after everything? It sounded so nice. Peaceful. So different from what I always thought it would be and also nothing like the songs of romance Sansa loved. Being able to marry without worrying about politics must be one of the nice things about being lowborn.”

Meera’s lips quirk into a small smile.

“I was always a little frightened of marrying myself. Not that I was worried about being sold off like you- no one bothers making political alliances with the crannogmen.”

“There are a few minor houses in the Neck aren’t they?” Arya asks her. She never spent much time paying attention in lessons, and Jojen and Meera don’t talk too much about the other people from their home.

Meera nods.

“We can’t just marry within them though, or we’d all be Targaryans by now. My mother isn’t of noble blood- I’ve seen how my parents’ marriage was written down. ‘Jyana of the crannogmen’.”

Arya files that little bit of knowledge away. She should ask Meera to tell Gendry that. Maybe they might even be able to meet her someday when this is all over. All these years and he still occasionally got attacks of insecurity because of his birth.

“But I had been raised that my duty was the carry on our house line, so I knew I would have to marry eventually.”

She makes a face.

“Even though it was more likely I would have known the boy I would end up marrying since childhood, there was also always a chance I would have spent my whole life thinking he was a shithead. And while I didn’t really think I would ever be forced to do it, I knew I might have been pressured...especially if Jojen died young like many people seemed to think he would. I was sixteen when we left Greywater Watch before, and I thought it was a blessing that I got to put the topic off for a little while.“

Arya thinks a bit before she asks her next question.

“When did you realize you and Bran were, I mean- you’re nearly as much older than him as Gendry is than me.”

Meera smirks.

“More actually, nearly six years. Gendry and I have had a couple of conversations on this very topic - the two of us are actually only a couple of moons apart.”

She blinks a bit, lost in the past before continuing.

“I’m pretty sure Bran was taken with me pretty early. Your brother wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s not good at hiding things like that. I tried to ignore it, because he was so young, and I was sure his interest would fade. But then time went on and we both got older and it didn’t seem like our age should matter as much as it did before.”

She blinks again, and Arya wonders if she’s blinking away tears.

“After we fled, I pulled him until I couldn’t. He didn’t even wake up from the visions until I couldn’t run anymore. My legs felt like jelly and I could barely feel my feet at all. I fell and tried to get back up and then fell again. When I couldn’t do anything else, and I was certain we were going to die, I wanted to kiss him senseless. “

Meera’s eyes stare off, faraway, but she’s got a tiny smile as well.

“And then when your uncle saved us, it didn’t go away. I thought that maybe when we made it back south things between us would...it seems like such a damned joke. That when I finally began to return his feelings, he no longer cared.”

Wiping her face and sniffing, Meera is suddenly desperate to change the subject.

“I hope your uncle can make it back from the wall. He saved our lives, before, he deserves some happiness too.”

Their conversation is broken by the sound of a horn announcing an arrival.

Arya pulls herself to her feet.

“That must be Mother and Sansa.”

It’s not even been a whole turn of the moon, but seeing both of them again is fantastic. Even with both bits of news they have to break.

Sansa looks as disquieted by the news of Robb’s impending marriage as Arya had been. Catelyn merely nods, acknowledging that it really was time Robb found himself a wife anyway.

It’s after she leaves that Arya reaches for Sansa’s arm and holds her tight as she grits her teeth and mutters.

“Robb’s entire future could hinge on this. If he- if she...I wish I had realized before what a bunch of bullshit the idea of marrying for the greater good is.”

Arya squeezes her arm. She’d always disliked the idea, but Sansa had first hand knowledge for how the resentment and anger these bonds caused could fester and grow and spill over. How they could transform into deceit and underhandedness and backstabbing. These could threaten the safety of the realm far more than by having one that was not united. As much as she could pray that this marriage worked out, she looked at every such possibility and wondered if it would breed another Cersei.

But when Arya tells her that the Wall had been breached by Others, than with nary a word, Sansa is all business again.

“Is Ser Davos at Winterfell now?” she asks.

Arya nods, a little confused. She follows Sansa up to the little study in between all of the Stark children’s chambers. This was where the Septa had given the girls their lessons, and before, where Old Nan had kept an eye on them when they couldn’t be wandering about. Arya hadn’t spent much time in this room in years.

“What are you-” she asks as Sansa rummages through one of the desks. She removes a letter she had stashed away.

“Lord Tyrion sent me a contact to reach out to near Castle Cerwyn which could provide us with wildfire to use against the Others. It won’t be safe to use it once they get past the wall, so I should seek them out as soon as possible.”

Arya’s eyes go wide.

“Wildfire doesn’t go out easily,” Sansa muses, “Even detonated over the ocean, it still burned, burned nearly all of Stannis’s fleet...I don’t think even the worst of winter blizzards will do much to its effects. I won’t risk the destruction of our home by burning it on this side of the wall.”

That’s what Sansa thinks on when she goes to Davos that night and before they prepare to leave in the morning. She sees the image in her head still of the strangely beautiful green flames, peeking in through the windows of the Red Keep. She also remembers the fighting men set on fire by it running, diving in the sea, trying desperately to put it out, screaming as they burned to death.

She thinks this is what causes the haunted look on Ser Davos’s face when they mount their horses and set out the next morning.

“I’m glad Stannis is at the wall,” Sansa tells him. “There’s not a lot of men I would trust with such a deadly weapon. Too many of the Night’s Watch have spent too long thinking that the Free Folk are the only enemy they are meant to be guarding us against. And they have been trained to not even think of them as humans- they might not think that it’s abominable to use such a weapon against something living. I believe Stannis does understand that.”

As long as Stannis doesn’t get stuck on something involving fire again, that is.

Castle Cerwyn is less than a day’s ride in good weather, but in the snow they barely make it by nightfall.

The guards who lead them to the guest house, Sansa recognizes, as Free Folk. They seem at ease too, but are both wary of her and Davos. Sansa wracks her mind, trying to remember if she’d heard any particular complaints from this holdfast about the decree regarding them. She can’t. House Cerwyn had suffered greatly under the thumb of the Boltons before the Long Night, and had barely been able to send any men to fight at all.

They go out early the next morning in search of the name in the letter.

To say he is strange is an understatement.

He is extremely old, older than the oldest men Sansa can recall meeting. He walks with a hunchback and his voice as a strange quality that makes Sansa think perhaps he has suffered some injury or illness of the throat in his time.

Or, she thinks looking about his workshop, perhaps he drank some concoction he shouldn’t have.

Wisdom Othlelle keeps looking at her out of the corner of one eye and muttering. She sticks close to Davos for more than a few reasons.

She also notices a few young men coming in and out of the shop and files them away in her mind.

When Othlelle inquires as to why they require the substance, Sansa plainly says.

“So I guess you haven’t been hearing any stories of enemies of the north with a particular weakness to fire.”

Sansa and Davos pay him for his services, and he directs one of the younger men to prepare the shipment.

Sansa looks him square in the eye.

“And there won’t be any funny business with the transport. It will only go to the wall, and only be passed into the hands of Stannis Baratheon. I can’t imagine the Alchemist’s guild would think too highly of you training acolytes unofficially this far north.”

He seems taken aback by her tone, so Sansa hopes it’s enough for her words to make an impact.

With that taken care of, Sansa and Davos mount their horses again and take off, hoping it’s still early enough to make it home by the end of the day.

When they’re riding, the wind comes by quickly enough that Sansa wonders at the look on Davos’s face. He’s been moving slower lately, she’s begun to notice the lines in his face more. It’s mostly hidden by his cloak, but she thinks she sees a glimpse of-

When they stop to water the horses, she finally asks.

“You look as tired as the rest of us are. Do you ever think about going home?”

His face is guarded still, but there’s a flicker that makes Sansa think she’s right. She reaches out to touch him on the shoulder.

“It’s fine. You’ve done so much already. You helped get Gendry out of King’s Landing, you’ve spent all these years helping us evacuate the Free Folk to the south. You’re the one doing most of the coordinating with the other houses, not Robb. “

“How am I supposed to go south when I know what’s coming?” he responds, sounding slightly desperate.”How can I go be with my own family when I know I could be stopping someone else from losing theirs?”

Sansa shakes her head.  

“Talk to Father when he returns to Winterfell. You’re not technically in our service, you’re not beholden to any of us-”

“I’m beholden to you all far more than nearly anyone else in all of the realm.”

“And your wife and sons need you. You got them all back, you should spend every moment you possibly can with them, because they might not get you back again.”

Davos’s face falters, and Sansa decides not to push.

“Like I said, we’re getting to the brink of war here, and you’re not a young man. Talk to Father.”

The horses are back at strength, so they remount and keep riding. The snow is blessedly light, and the sky remains bright.

They’re getting nearer to Winterfell, when Sansa’s horse spooks.

“What is it?” she asks her, but only gets a ‘neigh!’ in answer. She tries to spur her on, but she balks. She turns her head to Davos, who’s own mount is acting strange too.

Sansa hears a noise she can’t place, so she halts the horse and draws her bow. She hears the noise again, and turns, trying to spot it’s direction.

Then the noise turns more familiar, it becomes a howl.

A howl that heralds a rush in the snow covered brambles and a light gray figure appearing.

Sansa sees Davos draw his own bow and has to shout, “Wait!”

She loosens her bow.

“Ghost?” she asks.

And watching his tail wag, she hears footsteps and more rustling.

She sees another wolf appear across a clearing, and then another.

And then a group of women.

Well, women, and one man.

Sansa lowers her bow completely.

“Jon?”

She’d recognize the face anywhere. She remembers seeing it for the first time in nearly as many years before.

She hastily stumbles off her horse and throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Sansa?” he asks her, sounding confused. “What are you doing out here?”

She pulls back to look at him, and then to look at the other women with him.

They’re a motley bunch, dressed in ragged furs and carrying a strange assembly of weapons. And then Sansa spots one of the women, who’s huddling into herself and pale, and feels a pang of familiarity.

“Gilly?”

The girls looks confused at her words, and Sansa steps back.

“This is Ser Davos of House Seaworth. We were just finishing up some business before heading back-  you’re all on the way to Winterfell right?”

Davos has already rushed forward to shake Jon’s hand firmly, with a bigger smile than Sansa’s seen in ages. Jon mostly looks dazed.

“It’s good to see you again, Jon Snow,” Davos turns his attention to the women. “And you too ladies. May I ask your names?”

All of them answer, one by one. The last one is standing nearest Jon, holding a young boy on her shoulders. She looks up and says, “I’m Ygritte.”

Sansa can’t keep her hands off her face, and Davos’s similarly lets loose a noise of shock.

There’s a flash on the other woman’s face and Sansa suddenly wonders if she knows, what she knows.

“How far away are we from Winterfell?” Jon asks.

“Not too far. I can probably take one more person on my horse.”

“Take Gilly,” Henneh insists, “She’s still sick.”

“We haven’t had any issues with bandits-”

“I don’t think they will be a problem,” another voice says. Sansa squints and spies a small figure with an oddly shaped face.

“Sansa, this is Rowan. She’s the last of the children of the forest.”

Sansa smiles. Perhaps she should be more shocked.

“It’s getting a bit late,” she tells them all, helping Gilly onto her horse in front of her, “Maybe we should continue this conversation on the road.”

The road, even with the snow, is far less intimidating with such a group. Jon walks beside Sansa and Gilly. He reaches up and touches her quiver.

“You have a bow now?”

Sansa grins.

“Lots of things have changed since we’ve seen you. I have a bow, Arya has a husband, Robb has a betrothed, she’s a wildling too.”

As they get closer, she reaches down and touches Jon on the shoulder.

“I think you should try and talk to Mother if you can. Father told her the truth...and I think it really shook her up.”

Jon’s eyes go dark, and so Sansa gives him a pat.

“Like I said, lots of things have changed. It’s okay if you have changed too.”

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #breera #time travel fix it #fic

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Before changing ownership a decade previous, Tony’s Taphouse had been a biker bar called the Civic. Notorious for its rough clientele and routine bouts of violence, and for harbouring regulars who acted like nocturnal animals, most locals knew it as the Zoo. It had been the preferred haunt for the Hell’s Angels, who had long since been banned from the premises. 

“It took us a long time to turn things around,” my boss told me one night, while I manned the door for a Val Kilmer and the New Coke concert. A crowd of twenty-somethings were smoking all around us.

“Whenever we tried to get people to behave they’d say ‘don’t you know this is the Zoo?’ And I would say ‘yes, and I’m the new zookeeper’.”

My boss reminded me of a small child in an enormous body, slightly immature and with a propensity for breaking stuff. He had a reputation for overdoing things, to the point that the Nelson Police Department had nailed him for multiple assault charges. The other bouncers told me he was well known for choke-slamming unruly patrons into unconsciousness, which was the reason he was no longer allowed to assist us when we ejected the city’s shitheads and drunks. The guy was easily 300 pounds, and scary as hell when provoked. The rest of the time he was an amiable teddy bear, quick to laugh and always game to sing “Chocolate Salty Balls” from South Park at karaoke, much to the chagrin of his embarrassed wife. 

Most of my shifts were spent alongside a fellow ginger beard named Luke who liked playing bad cop to my good cop. During the day he worked at a pet food store, and he was well-known as a huge softie when it came to animals. While I had a tendency to treat Tony’s like my own personal Cheers, he was monosyllabic and ominous. Late into the night we would hang by the entrance swapping jokes and taking turns shovelling back lettuce wraps and chicken strips, clad in all black.

Eventually I suggested we should update our uniforms. There was a local barber named Chris Brach who bounced at Spiritbar and I admired how he dressed and carried himself like an old-school gentleman. We ultimately settled on matching vests with dress button-down shirts, with each bouncer choosing their favourite colour. I chose a blood red that was almost purple, while Luke went with sky blue. Eventually the whole team adopted this new look, making the whole place that much classier. 

Working at Tony’s gave me a whole new perspective on Nelson. I knew who was doing drugs, who was cheating on their spouse, and who was banned from the premises until they came grovelling back to the owners. The Nelson Leafs were preening and omnipresent as peacocks, and in the early hours of the evening I’d encounter the more wholesome members of society as they engaged in events like paint night. Sometimes people would approach me with the latest issue of the Nelson Star, commenting on stories or complimenting me on the cover photo. The print edition was becoming increasingly irrelevant, but Tony’s was one of the few places I could regularly see people consuming it alongside their beer.

From where we stood during our shifts, we looked out at a sports bar that took up the ground floor of the Adventure Hotel. Because we were open later than any other establishment in Nelson, we would watch as the late night crowd funnelled in our direction. Crowds of drunk twenty-somethings would march diagonally across the intersection, ignoring the cross-walks, and it was our job to interpret whether or not they could come into Tony’s based on their lurching gait. Some would nod solemnly when we denied them access, while others would whip themselves into deranged frenzies. They would scream their threats to the uncaring black sky, or demand to talk to the owners. These people pissed me off.

“You’re a good bouncer and everyone loves you, but the other staff have told me you have a tendency to go from zero to sixty pretty quick,” my other boss told me, during a performance review. She was the owner.

“We don’t think it’s a problem, but it’s something we want you to watch out for. Obviously this job can be stressful at times, so it’s up to you to keep your temper in check. It’s about customer service.”

Though there were plenty of threats of violence at Tony’s, it was rare that we actually had to put our hands on people. Most were cowed into submission by our size, and knew they had to play nice if they wanted continued access to the bar. We tried to kill them with kindness, calling them cabs and reassuring them that they’d be welcomed back once they sobered up. More than once I found myself consoling despondent drunks who were horrified by their own behaviour, going through a break-up, or grieving. Some were so confused and inebriated they didn’t know how to get home. I came to love these idiots, or at least most of them, because I considered them part of the Tony’s family.

The most interesting employee was a behemoth brute named Gordo, a holdover from the days of the Zoo, who looked exactly like a bearded Bobby Baccala. The female staff adored him because of his gentle, benevolent presence. He made people feel safe. He wasn’t a bouncer anymore because, like my boss, he’d gone overboard a few too many times. He lived downstairs and oversaw the daily operations, and was only called to help during emergencies. He was the type of guy you didn’t want to fuck with, ever. He loved Tony’s and everyone on staff intensely, and if violence was needed he was more than capable of dispensing it. I’d never met someone with such a fascinating mix of kindness and malevolence to his personality, and I admired how effectively he funnelled his anger in appropriate directions.

One night, during a slow period, he stood out on the street and regaled me with stories of his bouncing days in Toronto. During those years he’d been stabbed and shot multiple times, a fact he delivered with a shy chuckle.

“This one guy was shaking my hand, right? And with his other hand he stabbed me right here,” Gordo said, pointing to his rib cage.

“So I pulled him close to me and snapped his elbow backwards, just like this.”

Gordo recreated the scene with a smile on his face, demonstrating how the guy’s arm had bent the wrong way while the bones snapped and popped. He’d regained control of the situation while the knife was still plunged hilt-deep into his side. He laughed and wiped his eyes, remembering.

“I was a lot bigger back then, if you can imagine that. So the knife didn’t end up doing much damage. It didn’t hit anything significant. Meanwhile this guy’s a puddle on the ground in front of me, whimpering like a little girl.”

When I wasn’t on the door, I would work my way slowly through the lounge area and out to the back patio where people were allowed to smoke. There was a row of comfortable couches and a long counter where people could pull up stools and drink under the gaze of Elephant Mountain. At times I couldn’t believe I was being paid to socialize, and the dance floor playlist introduced me to a new favourite artist: a young Swedish woman named Tove Lo. If we’re talking body, she sang, You got a perfect one so put it on me. If you do me right, we’ll fuck for life, on and on and on. 

Paisley had finally moved home to be with her parents, and her absence had proven to be a boon to my mental health. I still missed my dogs desperately but I was finally free to move on without her constant surveillance and gossip. I decided early on that I wouldn’t date anyone on staff, but there was no shortage of young women who would find excuses to linger by the door or stand outside smoking, sizing me up. Most nights I was still ending up at Natalya’s, where I would crawl into her bed and cap the night off with an early morning fuck in the dark. She’d leave her front door unlocked and we’d pant through our routine without speaking a word. She’d resigned herself to the fact I wasn’t interested in anything beyond that, and she never bothered me with small talk. We had what we had, and that was it.

The sleep deprivation involved with working at Tony’s ended up meaning that I spent most of my weekends asleep, recovering in Brendan’s basement and only leaving the house for necessities. Sunday was my only day off, and I needed that down time to get in the right headspace for the Star. I had a couple of ambitious series going on, including one about the Columbia River Treaty, and I needed my mental faculties operating properly to adequately approach these subjects. I could sense that Ed was growing tired of my rock star attitude and reluctance to put in a full 40-hour work week. I kept finding myself asking why I was still there, but I didn’t have another option available. Both jobs and housing were scarce in Nelson, and I was barely holding on.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” I told my friend Tia one night. She worked at the Hume Hotel but had started her own business called Wurst Dog. We’d been discussing whether I could find some sort of entrepreneurial gig to transition to once I was finished with journalism.

“You just have to take a chance and jump, kid,” she said. “Then see where you land. I’m sure there’s all kinds of people in this town who would give you a job doing social media or something.”

“Or maybe I could be a full-time bouncer and write on the side? Finally finish my manuscript? I dunno.”

Tia smiled and mussed my hair.

“I believe in you,” she said. “You’ve got this.”

The Kootenay Goon

[snakevalentino]

Intro to Valentino

Is that [VALENTINO EMMANUEL DE LA CRUZ]! It’s so nice to see them back at Hogwarts! [HE] is [16], and a [SIXTH YEAR] [SLYTHERIN] and totally looks like the muggle [FROY GUTIERREZ]. They are known to be [DETERMINED], and [ASSERTIVE] but also have a tendency to be [SADISTIC] and [MANIPULATIVE]. There are whispers around the castle that in the unrest that is brewing they are [SIDING WITH THE NIGHT WALKERS]. [OTHER INFO: Slytherin beater, hitwizard for the Night Walkers]

Full Character Name: Valentino Emmanuel de la Cruz. But a lot of people just call him Val.

Does your character have siblings? What are their names?: Nope.

What is your characters best subject in school? It’s not taught at Hogwarts, but Dark Arts. If we’re picking off the actual curriculum, probably Charms.

What is your characters wand? Rougarou hair core, yew, 11 inches. Since he started school in North America, that’s where he got the wand. The wandmaker definitely looked uneasy when a rougarou core picked him. It wasn’t a wand she’d made herself, but one of many unsold ones from the American wandmaker Violetta Beauvais, who kept the fact that she used the cores secret since they are “believed to have an affinity for the Dark Arts, like vampires to blood, as the Rougarou itself is a highly dangerous beast.”

Can your character cast a Patronus? What is it? What memory do they use?: He can’t (yet??? who knows), but if he could, it would be a bull shark.

Who is your characters best friend?: He gets along decently well with his housemates — the pureblood ones at least — but if he had to pick a person, it would be Balthazar. They have the same lack of inhibitions.

Does your character look up to anyone? Who? His parents. Joaquin and Regina de la Cruz. They own an empire, and crush their opponents under their feet like they’re nothing. Val wants that for himself one day, and he wants a partnership like the one his father has with his mother too. They’ve found a common darkness within one another, and they see each other as equals and for who they really are. It’s the kind of true love that Val wants to find one day. Working together and loving each other makes them both better, stronger and he’s always idolized them as the perfect kind of couple.

What is your characters relationship like with their family? Valentino is the apple of his parents’ eye. They spoil him mercilessly and have built up quite an ego within him. The child of the union between two powerful and rich Mexican and Indigenous  (Caxcan) pureblood families in Mexico, Valentino has always felt special. Like the rules didn’t apply to him and that the world owed him everything and his parents certainly fostered that sentiment within him. They won’t hear a word against their son and they will use their power, money, influence — and let’s be real, threats — to keep him out of trouble and make sure nothing’s ever linked back to him or on his record.

If your character has siblings, do they have a favorite? No siblings.

What is your characters go-to spell in a duel? Crucio. It’s efficient. But sometimes he wants to draw things out, watch people bleed, so he’ll use something else.

What spell does your character use most often? Obliviate. Sometimes he wants the extra insurance that his victims won’t tattle, so he makes sure they forget who’d hurt them.

Five or more facts/headcanons about your character:

He *hates* being in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s a stupid, pointless class filled with propaganda. The Dark Arts are a beautiful thing and he’s been trained in them since he was a child. It’s just one more kind of magic, censoring it won’t achieve anything.

Val is actually sharp as a whip. Along with excelling in most of his classes, he can speak English, French, Spanish and Portuguese. He picked up French and Portuguese during his brief time at Ilvermorny. If he applied himself to literally anything good, he’d probably make the world a better place, but alas, he’s a sadistic little shithead.

He has an owl named Luci — short for Lucifer. He doesn’t *love* it, but he’s certainly fond of it.

Because his mother is Caxcan, she knows magic that isn’t known or understood outside of Mexico’s Indigenous wizarding community. They’re tightly kept secrets, only meant to stay within the tribe, and Valentino knows those spells and cherishes them, holding them close to his chest. They’re a secret between he and his mother — Joaquin knows they know these spells of course, but he understands it’s not his place to try and learn them. Sometimes Val thinks about teaching them to his own children one day, and keeping the magic going.

Val knicks books from the Restricted Section all the time. It’s not like security at Hogwarts is particularly good. Besides if they really didn’t want students reading those books about the Dark Arts, they wouldn’t have them in the library, would they?

Bio: 

Valentino is an asshole and he’s not afraid to admit it. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and two parents that constantly reminded him that he was better than the people around him and could do everything and anything, he never really learned the meaning of consequences. 

The de la Cruzes run a secret, underground operation where they’re working to figure out the secret immortality. They’re not foolish. They’re not going after it in the absolutely irresponsible, ridiculous way that Tom Riddle did it. Instead, they have a lab, full of creative, and equally bigoted wizards, happy to test out different things on a variety of muggles that were nicked from places they’d never be noticed. What’s one homeless person off the streets of London? It’s just a drop in a bucket. Once they figure it out, then they’ll do it on themselves, but they’re not going to start hacking at their own souls or become shells of themselves to do it. On the surface though, they run several powerful wizarding businesses. It’s all kosher. Nothing to see here. What’s not to love about Joaquin and Regina? They’re such lovely company, and the pride of wizarding high society.

When Val was five, his babysitter fell asleep while she was meant to be watching him. He covered her in a blanket, and then ventured out of his room to go find his parents. Once he’d located them in his father’s office, he stumbled into an unexpected scene: his father torturing two men and their families, including children, because the men had broken a deal with them. Joaquin decided that now that he had seen what they did, it was time he step into the family business. Joaquin talked him through his actions, Regina making sure her son was listening carefully to his father, and in the end, Joaquin made sure Valentino was holding onto his wand when he cast a killing curse, so that he’d know what it felt like. He also made sure Valentino watched as he killed the rest, including a child his age. Regina killed the babysitter after — Margarita had been sleeping on the job after all, and that’s not what she was paid to do. The saga was what awakened something in Val, and it sparked his continuous desire to be better, stronger more powerful as well as his fascination with the Dark Arts.

He started school at Ilvermorny when he was 11, and was sorted into Wampus. He didn’t enjoy his time there and found the school’s overwhelming focus on harmony and stamping out the dark arts to be insufferable. He often skipped Defense Against The Dark Arts class and used that time to teach himself the Dark Arts instead. When he was in third year he hexed a classmate so badly he permanently disfigured him — and was lucky the student didn’t die because of the attack — and that was the last straw for the administrators at Ilvermorny. They expelled him but a large donation from his parents kept the truth from coming to light. Instead, the public story as it stands is that his parents moved the entire family to England so he could attend Hogwarts as it’s a more prestigious institution. He hasn’t had any explosions quite as violent as the one that got him kicked out of Ilvermorny quite yet, but with his activity with the Night Walkers, it’s safe to say that may not stand anymore.

He doesn’t necessarily believe in the Night Walkers’ cause but he’s always up for some mayhem and causing pain. But really he’s after glory, admiration and prestige for himself, not whatever the Night Walkers are working towards. But it’s a means to an end. He plays to the beat of his own drum, but for now, the Night Walkers are useful for him to be in.

Despite his foul temper, he’s also *very* popular and has a bit of a reputation within school as a playboy as he’ll fall into bed with nearly any guy who wants him. Like everything else, his parents keep his “indiscretions” on lock-down too — he’s gay, and they support that fully, they just don’t want tabloids smearing his name just because he likes to hit it and quit it. He can be incredibly charming when he wants to be and is a truly believable liar, and that keeps the normally sharp Hogwarts administration on his side.

#rsmintro #intro #about #blood tw #torture tw #murder tw #//maybe child abuse tw depending on what you think of letting ur child be accomplice to murder at the tender age of five???

[lassieposting]

skug & alice headcanons

- baby skulduggery was absolutely That Shithead Sibling who makes up total lies to tell his younger brothers and sisters, and convinces them it's the gospel truth. he managed this a couple times with val when she was twelve and had no idea what went on in the magical world (octopus people, anyone?), but she learned very quickly to take everything he says with a pinch of salt. but oh boy, does he carry this on with alice. val keeps trying to stop him, without success.

- when alice was born, val didn't talk about anything else for weeks. skug's phone got bombarded with pictures of alice. alice sleeping. val holding alice. alice clutching val's finger. alice in three different babygros. it's very bittersweet for him - it's amusing and adorable and also kind of weird to see val so enthusiastic and enamored with anyone but herself - but he remembers being like that when his son was born, and finally understands what it was like for Ghastly, Erskine and Hopeless to have to listen to him talk about the newborn all day long

- val introduces skug to alice the very first time her folks let her babysit. she's not sure exactly what she expected, but she wasn't expecting him to be so reluctant to hold/interact with alice. he basically keeps his distance completely until one night he pops round to see val while she's babysitting and alice is screaming her head off and won't settle and val's nerves are fraying and she's trying to make up alice's bottle and comfort her at the same time and she leaves the baby alone with skug while she goes to finish bottle prep and??? his dad instincts kick in and she comes back into the room to find him rocking the baby, humming a tune that's almost as old as he is, and alice gurgling at him and trying to stick her pudgy little fingers in his eye sockets or pull his hat off.

- he will absolutely, 100% get down on the floor to play with alice, four-figure suit be damned. he's great with kids - he'll let her cover his fake face in stickers or paint his fake nails bright pink or watch her perform endless disney songs and dutifully clap at the end of each one, and he can tell stories with the best of them because it's all he had before movies.

- the actual physical embodiment of that "you can't give her a gun! what if she hurts herself?" "then that'll be an important lesson" meme.

- honestly like. he loves kids and he tries very hard but he is incredibly irresponsible. he thought letting a twelve-year-old tag along on a dangerous case was a great idea. he was a parent himself, but had no idea that six years old was not old enough to be left alone. when alice is tiny and all skug has to do is hold her for five minutes while val heats a bottle or show her how to rock her little sister to sleep, he's great. but once alice is mobile val learns very quickly to avoid leaving his irresponsible ass alone with the baby for very long.

- alice has asked val if she "can be a bridesmaid when you get married" at an Edgley family dinner. val, not really listening, says, "Yeah, sure," and then there's a very awkward silence when she realises alice was referring to skulduggery. skug honestly just wants to die, again.

- alice is a merciless turncoat and will team up with both skug and val to gang up on the other one at family functions.

#valdug #im very invested in alice being fond of skug #he's a pushover he lets edgley girls get away with murder #literally in val's case lmao #sp headcanons #skulduggery pleasant

[pompadourpink]

hey mom, what is that thing about charles baudelaires and beauty in ugliness? plz help a lost child

Hello child, 

Charles Baudelaire would look at things considered ugly or degrading (on the top of my head I can name corpses, sex work, Paris, or old people), find the beauty in them and write about that - a similar piece is Le Dormeur du Val by Arthur Rimbaud who describes a young man sleeping next to a river that turns out to be a soldier who got shot in the chest.

It seems to be a recurring theme in arts especially since the nineteenth century (not only indeed, I remember discovering Rubens’ Saturn eating his child when i was a kid and being both horrified and stunned by the quality of the painting and it’s a good two centuries older I believe), think also of Guernica or anything painted by Van Gogh if you go in the other direction. and it doesn’t have to be art, I remember one day walking to uni under pouring rain and being in a bad mood and the girl walking in front of me had a rainbow umbrella and was making it swirl between her fingers and the grumpiness flew away.

During the first year of my masters, one class was given by a specialist of Proust, in his sixties, always wearing bowties and glasses - it was a class about the ‘fin de siècle’ era where we studied Wilde’s Dorian Gray, Schnitzler’s Traumnovelle (that inspired Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut) and Mirbeau’s Journal d’une Femme de Chambre (which I highly disliked). The guy was warm and polite but he’s one of those people I had never really paid attention to. And one day before leaving I went to his desk with a question in mind. He had taken off his glasses to clean them and lifted his head to look at me. Only there, after four years of knowing him and months of seeing him weekly, I noticed one eye was blue and one brown - a personal passion of mine. The question escaped my mind and I never looked at him the same way. Nothing romantic, just: hECK.

Another teacher I had was specialised in francophone literature and I had a  similar breakthrough : on day one I saw that little guy, fifties, gray hair, little beer belly, eagle nose, pointy teeth, a hoop in his left earlobe, walking towards us and didn’t think much of him. He spoke with passion of literature and people he met, forgetting why we were there, and an hour later I had a crush on him.

Another was specialised in theater during the late middle age in northern France and easily the most passionated teacher I have ever met or had and one day she talked about Le Jeu de Marion et Robin by Adam de la Halle (Robin Wood’s inspiration), got us copies of a scene that contained a song and actually got up and sang the entire song, rolling her r’s like 13th century’s french comedians. and I might have proposed in my head.

That’s something I named the Malkovich’s syndrom after reading and watching Les Liaisons Dangereuses (by Choderlos de Laclos, amazing epistolary novel) during my last year of high school. John Malkovich played one of my main characters in the adaptation, a manipulative libertine shithead who (spoilers) bets his ex lover and best friend he can make a very religious married woman fall in love with him and commit the sin of flesh, succeeds, breaks her heart, realises he’s in love with her and they both die tragically soon after.

I watched the movie without being aware of John Malkovich’s existence and his first appearance on screen made me very skeptical because he was supposed to be a Don Juan and an absolute tempting beast and here’s what you got:

I went ah well dang what the shit is this but then the miracle of charisma happened and seeing Mr. John Asshole The First falling desperately in love and hating himself for hurting his lover and willingly losing a duel in order to get killed just so he can stop being in pain moved my heart and an hour and a half later I was madly in love with John Malkovich and if I ever were to cross his path I would probably lose my shit.

Here’s the idea. Hope this helps! x 

#ask #charles baudelaire #culture #literature #malks

[7fics]

Jackbam; Jackson and Bam are in realtionship, they always bickering, teasin each other so their friends are wondering why they are a couple because they act like friends, but they share cute moments (that only they know)a lot of fluff!! I love your writing ^^ (and sorry for my english lnao)

Warning(s): a little (a lot of) swearing

Author: val 

Word Count: 3.5k+

A/N: Hey guys! This took forever wOw but I’m finally here with my first fill! I’m a casual writer val who joined at the start of this year and is amazing at procrastinating but I hope you’ll enjoy this, even if the tenses might be hella inconsistent because I suck. Also, fun fact, I’m the youngest here!!

“Bambam!” Jackson Wang’s shrill scream pierced through the room like a knife.“You’re an absolute fucking shithead, you know that?”

In situations like these, the boys had learnt to keep themselves as busy as possible and try not to pay any mind to whatever attention-seeking announcement Jackson had for the rest of the group. Or specifically, for his shithead (his words) of a boyfriend.

“What did he do now?” Yugyeom whispered sardonically.

“He ate my fucking chips!” Jackson screeched back.

“I did not,” Bambam replied resolutely, eyes never leaving the movie that was playing on the television screen.

“We are literally the only two people who live here. Who else could have taken it?” Jackson demanded, his already-high pitch rising ever so steadily by some miracle of God.

“Pudding,” Bambam replied without missing a beat.

Jackson looked like he was about to explode.

“I’ll get you more chips, Sseunie. Sit your ass down and stop blocking my view of Chris Hemsworth,” Jinyoung appeased, rolling his eyes as he inched over on the couch to make room for the newcomer. Begrudgingly, Jackson plopped down, and silence fell over the room once more.

It barely lasted for a minute.

“I swear you took it!”

Everybody groaned.

“I didn’t.” Bambam sounded almost bored.

“You always do this! You always lie to me! Our relationship is all based on lies!” Jackson insisted hysterically, leaping back onto his feet and pointing an accusatory finger at Bambam.

“Our relationship is based on lies,” Bambam imitated, his face scrunched up in comical manner as he raised his voice to a high-pitched squeak.

Jackson gasped, seeming offended. “I do not sound like that! Take it back! And give me back my chips, too!”

“I do not sound like that,” Bambam continued to squeak in a manner that genuinely did not sound like Jackson. “Take it—” was all he could manage before he began to choke on his own laughter.

“I said I’ll get you new chips, please sit down Sseunie,” Jinyoung pleaded almost desperately, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

“Fine,” Jackson’s shoulders slumped in defeat, slinking down to the couch and snuggling closer to Jinyoung.

“How the fuck are they even dating?” Yugyeom grumbled softly from the other end of the room, stuffing another handful of popcorn into his mouth. Next to him, Jaebum shrugged.

And then, the only sound that could be heard in the room was the droning of the actors on television.

Oh, and Bambam cackling hysterically while simultaneously hacking up a lung. But that was a minor detail.

——————

By the end of the movie, Bambam had fallen asleep, Jackson’s lips were still arranged in a pout and Jinyoung was about to fling himself out the window into the depths of hell.

Bambam hadn’t stopped laughing for ten minutes straight, and Jackson wasn’t as quiet in his death threats as he thought he was. Although, Jinyoung would admit, the numerous methods Jackson had fabricated to murder the Thai boy were extremely amusing, if not slightly terrifying. Maybe Jackson could consider a career in homicide.

Jinyoung picked up the TV remote and aimed it at the screen.

“Time to go, everyone,” he announced as the screen turned dark. “Thanks for having us, Sseunie,” he waved half-assedly, one foot already out the door. The other boys trailed after him, some yawning tiredly as they mumbled their goodbyes.

“We’re leaving, Bam,” was the last thing Jinyoung hollered before slamming the door shut and leaving Jackson with silence and a sleeping boyfriend.

Oh, an awake boyfriend now.

Bambam blearily opened his eyes as he glanced around the room, trying to make sense of what was happening. When his sleep-addled brain finally managed to decipher that the movie was over, everyone had left and Jackson was still sulking on the other end of the couch, it told him to move. What kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t?

Bambam blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he crawled towards Jackson, whose signature Wang Gae eyes were about to be the death of him. He flopped down next to his boyfriend, snuggling closer until any space between the two were practically nonexistent.

“I’m sorry for taking your chips,” he mumbled, voice muffled from his face being pressed into Jackson’s chest.

All of a sudden, Jackson’s demeanour seemed to shift.

His entire body relaxed into the couch, as if he was melting into a puddle of syrup and honey and all the love he held in his heart for Bambam. If Bambam was looking, he would’ve seen Jackson’s eyes soften and his lips turn up in the brightest of smiles.

“It’s fine, Bam,” Jackson whispered, even though they were the only two people left in the house. He ran his hands through Bambam’s hair comfortingly, fingers gently massaging the younger boy’s scalp. “We can get more. I’m not mad anymore.”

Bambam hummed softly, and Jackson could feel the vibrations travel through his body, through his veins, sending tingles down his spine and turning his heart into gooey, syrupy mush. “I love you, Ja-” Bambam’s words slurred, sleep enveloping him before he could even finish his sentence.

Jackson smiled fondly, fingers tingling with warmth at the sight of Bambam cuddled close to him, body rising and falling steadily with every breath he took. He gathered his boyfriend into his arms and heaved, pushing the both of them off the sofa and Bambam safely into Jackson’s embrace. He padded to Bambam’s bedroom and gently set Bambam down on the bed, brushing back a stray strand of hair on his forehead and leaning down to kiss the younger sweetly on the cheek.

“I love you too, Bambam.”

——————

Yugyeom let out a long, drawn-out groan on Jackson and Bambam’s couch, leaning his head back and slinking down in his seat.

“We’ve been waiting forever, now,” he lamented, reaching a lanky leg out to kick the man sitting opposite him. “Jackson, where’s your boyfriend?”

In response, Jackson hollered, “Yo, Bam! We’re all waiting!” He glanced over at Yugyeom and rubbed his calf ruefully, before tacking on completely out of spite, “your best friend’s complaining!”

Yugyeom kicked him again.

“I’m coming,” was the frustrated screech that rang from the Thai boy’s room. “You guys always fucking rush—”

Crash!

“Fuck!”

From his room emerged a frazzled, but nevertheless dolled-up Bambam, hopping awkwardly on one foot as he clutched his toe. “You guys always rush fashion! Now look at me, you fuckers—I stubbed my toe!”

Admittedly, Bambam looked incredibly dashing. His hair had been parted in the centre and rested artfully in strands down his forehead. His eyes were framed by deep red eyeshadow, accentuating his bright blue eyes (which were clearly contacts, but Jackson digresses). There was only one word he could use to describe his boyfriend—sexy.

Or handsome. Or gorgeous. Or hot. So maybe there were more words.

“Sucks to be you,” Jackson snickers instead, and jiggles his car keys in his hand. “Now let’s go—we’re actually late now.”

Bambam grins, picking up his phone. “I call shotgu—”

“I think the hell not!” came Yugyeom’s screech as he interrupted the Thai boy before he could even complete the word. “I had to wait a whole hour for your crusty ass to get ready, you bitch, I’m going to ride shotgun.”

Bambam’s eyebrows furrowed, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side as he fixed his gaze on Yugyeom. There was a pregnant pause, and then Bambam swiveled around to face Jackson.

“Jack,” he implored, tone sickly sweet. “I’m your boyfriend, right? Don’t you think I should ride shotgun?”

Jackson pretended to think, even though a smirk was beginning to spread on his face. “I don’t know, Bam,” he drawled. “Yugyeom has a point…”

“Oh my god,” Bambam gasped, aghast that he’d be betrayed this way by the one person who was supposed to be by his side through thick and thin, the one person who was supposed to—

“Yeah, I think Yugyeom should ride shotgun, instead,” Jackson concluded smugly.

“I think he should not!” Bambam fired back indignantly.

“It’s my car,” Jackson pointed out levelly, which all the more made Bambam fume.

“I’m your—”

Yugyeom groaned into his palm, burying his face in his hands as he tried to block out the couple’s bickering. He honestly didn’t get how they’d gotten together when all they seemed to do was argue—let alone how they hadn’t broken up yet. While he did love to spend time with each of the boys, not to mention he’d been best friends with half of the couple since their diaper days, being in the same room as the couple on his own was enough to give him a migraine.

“He’s going to ride shotgun,” Jackson declared with a note of finality, and Yugyeom felt a hand grab onto his wrist and pull him up sharply.

Whatever protests Yugyeom tried to weakly splutter out were promptly ignored as he was dragged out of the apartment all the way to Jackson’s car, with Bambam loudly complaining as he trailed along behind.

Oh, why did he ever try to butt in between the couple?

The door slammed as he was shoved into the passenger seat and Yugyeom winced, meekly pulling on his seatbelt. From behind him, Bambam continued to grumble as he crawled in the back.

For the rest of the journey, Bambam never stopped.

——————

When Bambam awoke, it was to low light and a fluffy blanket pulled over him.

Granted, his head was pulsing and he felt like he was about the throw up. Scratch that—the taste of bile was lingering on the tip of his tongue—maybe he already had.

A sliver of light sliced through the room as the door was slowly pushed open, a head popping in to reveal his boyfriend.

“Oh,” Jackson whispered, a bright grin on his lips. “You’re awake.”

Bambam could only groan in response.

“Bad hangover?”

Bambam nodded.

“Hangover soup?”

Bambam nodded again, a small smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Go wash up,” Jackson said fondly, cocking his head in the direction of their bathroom.

Bambam let out a noise that could only be described as a cross between a groan and a whine, and pulled his blanket over his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath, trying to force his vomit back down.

There was a soft pattering of footsteps and the blanket was tugged off. A gentle hand ran through his bed head and ruffled his hair. “You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” Jackson teased.

This time, Bambam let out a drawn-out whine, opening his eyes to gaze at his boyfriend and blinked sluggishly. “I know,” he pouted.

Jackson chuckled, the sound resounding uncomfortably in Bambam’s ears and making his head pound, but was still a bright, tinkling sound nevertheless.

Before he knew it, a pair of hands were snaking under his back and hoisting him up in the air, and Bambam almost yelped in surprise.

“You need to wash up, Bammie,” came the admonishing words, although Jackson’s tone held no meaning to it all. “You stink,” he teased playfully, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust.

Bambam swung one of his arms up to swat at Jackson’s face.

“I love you too,” Jackson cooed, screwing up his lips and making obnoxious kissing noises. “I love my baby Bammie so much, he’s so adorable, I love my itsy bitsy—”

“My head hurts,” Bambam whined again, squirming about in Jackson’s arms and effortlessly shut his boyfriend up, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he tried to balance the lanky boy in his arms.

Bambam felt himself being set down on a surface, and he hung his head as he felt his eyes drooping and his head was pounding and maybe the toilet wasn’t such a bad place to fall asleep on, you know—

“Bam,” came a gentle voice. “Come on, you can at least brush your teeth, right?” Jackson nudged his shoulder playfully, slotting a toothbrush in between his fingers. “Get yourself ready, and we’ll be out for your soup in no time.”

After the agonizing half-hour—in Bambam’s opinion—that it took for him to brush his teeth and slip his clothes on, Jackson was threading his fingers through Bambam’s as he tugged the younger out of their apartment and to his car.

Bambam felt the press of muscle against his own arm and warmth begin to spread through his body as Jackson began to walk with a light spring to his step.

“You okay?”

Bambam nodded, pulling his hand out of Jackson’s to wind his arm around the latter’s instead.

Jackson beamed. and Bambam’s heart fluttered. “I hope you had fun, even if you were pretty shitfaced,” Jackson chuckled.

There was a pause from him as Bambam let out a guttural noise, and then Jackson stopped abruptly in his tracks, causing Bambam to almost trip over his own two feet. Thank God for his boyfriend’s steady grip.

“Hey!” Jackson exclaimed in an accusatory tone, whipping to around to glare at his boyfriend. “You tried to make out with Yugyeom last night!”

Bambam’s heart stopped for a moment.

And then it was back to racing like a galloping horse, the loud thump-thump-thumps imitating heavy footfalls and laboured breaths as the horse thundered forward, on and on, ringing blaringly in his ears. Oh dear, what if Jackson was mad; Bambam swears on his life he didn’t remember any of the previous night’s events. What if Bambam did try to make out with his best friend, what if—

“Bammie! I thought you loved me!”

And suddenly Bambam was brought back to the ground. Suddenly Jackson’s words didn’t sound so horrifying, more like a harmless tease, something that was supposed to simply rile Bambam up, ruffle his feathers, jolt him awake just a little more. Maybe Bambam was overreacting—scratch that, he was definitely overreacting.

Suddenly, Jackson’s defiant gaze from below him seemed more like a pitiful kitten looking for their owner’s attention. It was almost identical to the way Latte would paw at his calves when he was hungry.

Bambam stroked his arm appeasingly.

“I do, Jacks,” he smiled warmly, and no matter how much shorter Jackson was compared to him, no matter how uncomfortable the position was to him, Bambam leant down, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and tightening his grip around the elder’s arm every so slightly. “I love you so, so much Jackson, I’d never want to make out with anyone but you.”

Bambam almost saw Jackson’s eyes shining as the latter pulled him in for a tight embrace, pressing his face into Bambam’s neck and nuzzling in. “I love you too, Bam. I’m so sorry i don’t say it enough.”

They pulled apart, holding each other with bodies nearly pressed flush together, eyes twinkling, ghosts of smiles lingering on their lips.

And then it was over, way too quickly than Bambam would have liked. He wouldn’t admit it, but he adored these moments of sappiness he’d occasionally share with his boyfriend. The moments they hid away from their friends, the public eye. The moments that belonged to them.

Jackson was tugging on Bambam’s hand again, and they continued their walk to the car.

“For real, though, you actually did try to kiss Yugyeom.”

“I’m sorry, Jacks,” Bambam grinned, not sounding very sorry at all.

It barely took them a minute before Jackson’s car appeared in sight, and there was a beeping sound as Jackson pressed the button on his keys to unlock it.

“Ride shotgun today, please?” Jackson quirked his eyebrows hopefully.

Bambam grinned as he slid into the front seat.

And as Jackson started up the car, Bambam slipped his fingers in between Jackson’s.

——————

Bambam was supposed to be in charge of the new guy that day.

Being one of the employees who worked the longest at the coffee shop, he would know how things worked around there. Naturally, the role fell to him.

Well, it could have fallen to Youngjae, who’s worked just about as long as him. But Youngjae had a knack for shirking responsibility, that little traitor, so there they were.

The newest employee, Dowoon, is a bright young man who has too much enthusiasm in his tiny body. He’s willing to do whatever Bambam asks of him, and while it might be little overbearing, Bambam thinks he would make a great barista in the future.

After showing him the basics of brewing coffee, Bambam had been making Dowoon wipe down for about an hour, as the customer stream grew heavier and Bambam and Youngjae were busy behind the counter. As the number of customers began to lessen, and Youngjae snuck into the kitchen to nab a pastry for himself to snack on, Bambam decided to let Dowoon take his very first order.

“Hey,” Bambam smiled as he approached the table Dowoon had been dutifully scrubbing at. “I think you can take your first customer now!” He took the rag from Dowoon’s hand. “Let’s swap. The next customer is yours. Take their order, make sure Youngjae isn’t stealing more food from the kitchen, and serve them their order.” Bambam cocked his head toward the counter. “Simple as that.”

Dowoon’s beam could have rivalled the brightness of the sun.

“I’m on it,” Dowoon saluted, and scurried behind the counter, fingers tapping eagerly on the cash register. From behind, Youngjae emerged from the kitchen, a danish between his teeth and a croissant in his hand.

“You want one?” he offered it to Dowoon.

Dowoon shook his head. “It-it’s fine, Youngjae-hyung. I shouldn’t be eating on the job.”

“Yeah, Youngjae,” Bambam called out dryly from the table he was at.

The door bell jingled.

Dowoon jumped. “Wel-welcome! What can I get you?”

Bambam grinned at the familiar silhouette.

“I know this one,” he called, before the man could even open his mouth to reply. “Caramel frappe, with…” Bambam pretended to ponder. “Extra whip?”

“You know me so well, Bam,” Jackson grinned.

The tips of Dowoon’s ears were a bright pink. “Well,” he smiled. “I’ll get right to it. I mean—Youngjae will get right to it. I don’t—I don’t know how to work the machines yet.” Dowoon was stuttering like a high-schooler at his first day at school.

“It’s my first day…” Dowoon trailed off, the flush spreading to his cheeks.

“No problem,” Jackson smiles warmly, before turning to face Bambam.

“You’re training him?”

Bambam nodded proudly. “I think he’s doing great!”

Jackson walked over and slapped Bambam heartily on the back. (A little too heartily, Bambam might add. He nearly choked on air.) “He’s so sweet. And cute.”

Bambam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a snort from behind the counter, and Dowoon’s face seemed almost as red as a tomato.

“I’ll be back,” he reassured, before ducking behind the counter.

“What’s going on?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Dowoon thinks your friend here is really handsome,” Youngjae snickered, stuffing his face with the croissant he had saved from earlier to stifle his laughter.

“H-he said I was sweet too. And cute,” Dowoon stuttered.

“Yeah, he sure did,” Bambam frowned.

Dowoon let out a high-pitched noise that could have been a squeal. “Do you think he’d give me his number?”

“I don’t know, Dowoon,” Bambam cocked his head to the side, eyeing the younger. Dowoon, though, bless his adorable self, seemed to be completely oblivious and continued to gape at Jackson as the latter’s head was bent over his phone.

Bambam’s phone pinged.

i think he likes me bam

Bambam clenched his teeth.

i think i should give him my number. he’s a qt

Youngjae, practically about to burst into tears at the whole affair, shakily caps Jackson’s drink and hands it over to the smitten Dowoon. “Finish up your first customer!”

Dowoon looked as if he was about to melt into a puddle on the ground.

“Uh—caramel frappe for Jackson?” he called shyly, and Jackson walked up to the counter with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That’s me.”

Dowoon reached over to hand the cup to Jackson, before pulling back and grabbing a marker, scribbling something on the side of the cup.

Bambam clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into his palm.

“Here,” Dowoon thrust the cup over, averting Jackson’s gaze.

Jackson grabbed the cup and glanced at Dowoon’s messy handwriting, biting his lip as a smile began to spread across his face.

“Did you just give me your num—”

Bambam reach over the counter to pull on Jackson’s shirt harshly, reeling him in into a rough kiss that cut off whatever the latter was just about to say. He made sure their lips lingered, tilting his head a little to try to deepen the kiss. He felt Jackson’s lips tilt upwards as he played along.

When he finally pulled away, the shit-eating grin was back on Jackson’s face.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, babe.”

Dowoon let out another high-pitched screech.

(“Oh my god!” Youngjae hollered into the phone—since when did he get on the phone?

“Gyeom! I just watched them kiss. Yes, Jackbam! I just watched the two of them /kiss/—ha! You owe me twenty dollars now!”)

#jackbam #character:jackson #character:bambam #got7 #author:val #genre:fluff