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rupertsfangirl · 4 months

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Ron Weasley Imagine-Comforts you after a rough day at work (Smut)

Disclosure: Spanking, oral (female & male receiving), Probably missing sum but idk.

Summary: You have a long and rough day at work and your doting husband Ron takes care of you when you get home (IYKYK).

Word count:2.5k

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Ron Weasley

Note: HOLY HELL I APOLOGIZE! I know I released the original all fluff version like weeks ago but the holidays came around and then my birthday and a bunch of other things but anyway I’m back for now (hehe). I am starting school up again but I should have a bunch of free time due to most of my classes being extracurricular ones since I took college courses to do the other classes early (Yippee for me). Anyway I really hope you enjoy it. I know I had fun writing it even though it took me like a million years. I do plan on making a twins one but I kinda need to rewrite it cuz I accidentally set it in a time period making them underaged sooo yea gotta redo that, oopsies.

Ron stood in the doorway and let his blue eyes trace your figure.

“You look beautiful.” You blushed at his compliment.

“Well today is important.” He walked up next to you and took the necklace you planned to wear off the desk. He placed it around your neck while you lifted your hair allowing him to clasp it together.

“Perfect,” he whispered, placing his hands on your waist from behind. You smile as you put your matching earrings in.

“Alright, I'm ready.”

“Do you have everything prepared?”

“Yes, it's all in my organizer.”

“Well then don’t forget you are amazing and you’ve got this, go get��em.” You hug him feeling a surge of extra confidence from his words. You walk out of the room and down the stairs to the fireplace, Ron trailing behind you. He presses a kiss onto your forehead. While stepping into the fireplace you grab a palm full of floo powder,

“Ministry of Magic.” You watch as Ron disappears behind the flames and the ministry's black brick walls appear. You start towards the conference room feeling the sweat on your palms, you take a deep breath and reassure yourself.

“You got this.” You step into the room first, as you expected. You begin to set up your presentation; it was an important one because it would allow your department to expand and potentially lead to a promotion for yourself. Once everyone had arrived you began the presentation. You glided through with ease feeling quite cool and collected the whole time. Why had you been so nervous before, you thought of Ron’s words and smiled internally. After the presentation you were feeling pretty good about it. You left the room and started back toward your office however you heard a few of the wizards and witches who had been in the room talking badly about your presentation. It made you upset and questioned whether you had hallucinated that you were so calm while presenting. You tried to shake it off but remained in a funk the rest of the day. And add that you were behind on just about everything due to being understaffed, it was a combination of all the things that made you overwhelmed.

You had stayed about 3 hours overtime and got home later than you planned; but even still the second you got home Ron was there to greet you. He took your bag, giving you a kiss while grabbing it, and placed it on the couch.

“How was work?” You only groan in response. “That bad sweetheart?” You nod and place your head onto his shoulder letting out a big sigh. Ron tries comforting you by rubbing your back and holding your head.

“Why don’t you get out of those clothes and we can just relax.”

“Alright,” you say, grabbing your bag and heading upstairs to change into something comfy. You take your hair out of the tight bun it's been in all day and fling off the narrow pumps your feet were squished into; sitting down you take out your earrings and necklace.

Suddenly Ron shouts from downstairs, “I have a surprise for you!” You can’t help but feel excited using a spell to quickly and cleanly remove your makeup. You make your way back downstairs to see a table set with two plates of delicious looking food, candles, and glasses of the good stuff (nice wine). Ron looks pleased with himself and you can’t help but feel like you drooled a bit when you saw the food.

“Oh my goodness, what did I do to deserve you?” You give him a tight hug and you both sit to eat. You tell him all about the rough day you had and he shows all his emotions on his face like he usually did: anger when you told him about the people who talked bad about you, worry when you told him about all the work you have, and excitement when you told him that you still felt the presentation went well. Then he told you all about the day he had at work which was usually light hearted as he co-managed the joke emporium with his brother George. He always managed to make you laugh with something crazy that happened. You guys finished eating and took the plates to the kitchen placing them in the sink then Ron used a spell to start washing them.

“What do you feel up to, darling: a bath, a movie, or maybe me?” You giggled at his proposal and rubbed your finger on your chin pretending to think really hard.

“Hmm, what about a massage; my back and feet are killing me.”

“I can make that happen.” He had placed his hands on your shoulders and squeezed them lightly. “Go up to the room, I’ll meet you up there.”

“Okay.” You head up the stairs and into the room, you lie face down on the bed placing your head into your arms. Ron walks in a minute or so after with a bottle of oil.

“Well you have to take off your shirt,” he chuckled while giving you a knowing look. You roll your eyes at him making sure to face away from him while removing your shirt. You quickly lay back down on the bed and soon after Ron drips the warm oil onto your back instantly soothing you. He begins to glide his hands along the sides of your back to your shoulders where he puts pressure and squeezes causing you to let out soft moans.

“You have magic hands Ronnie,” you mumble jokingly. He chuckles quietly and continues to massage the knots out of your shoulders. He then slowly moves his hands down to your lower back and using his thumbs he presses into it and moves out slowly; you gasp lightly feeling loose and calm.

“Did that feel good?” You nod into the bed and he smiles feeling happy he can please you. Ron’s rough yet gentle hands rubbing from your neck, to your shoulders, to your tailbone. You feel as though you're on a cloud and you allow your mind to wonder. You sense his fingers slip into your pants, slowly pulling them down; you think about telling him off but it’s been awhile since you two had been sexually intimate, so you let him continue. His hands caressing your ass; starting from the bottom of your cheeks and squeezing while sliding up. He pulled the spandex waistband of your underwear letting it slap back down onto your waist and swiftly slapping your ass making you tremble. While sliding your pants off all the way, his hand came down a second time leaving you a shade redder.

He smirked at his ability to make you squirm and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Ass up.” You bite your lip, abiding his demand, getting on your knees and arching your back to lift your backside into the air. He ran his thumb under the trim of your underwear, lifting it and planting another slap on your cheek; you jump, letting out a slight squeal.

A pleased grin spread on his face, “You’re so wet for me.” Placing the pad of his finger on the forming wet circle, beginning to rub it; the friction of the fabric against your entrance causing a moan to escape your lips. His fingers traced over your lips gradually moving inwards towards your more sensitive areas; slowly working up the pressure but keeping the same pace.

“Your hands really are magic.”

“That's not all that's magic,” a sly smile forming on lips. He roughly pulled off your underwear revealing just how wet you really were. His tongue gently skimming your thigh until slowly reaching your vagina. You softly call out his name as he draws circles and places kisses; soon after pushing his tongue into you. Sultry breaths and rough hands accompanied by a soft tongue brought a rising heat. Contrasting with the coldness of his fingertips as they explored your legs before placing another slap on your ass, pulling a whine from your throat. His mouth hovered just above your clit, placing gentle kisses around the hood and releasing light slow breaths onto it, making you ache for his tongue on your clit. Your hips seemed to take control attempting to move closer to his mouth; prompting Ron to plant another slap on your already rosy cheek.

“You have to be patient,” he tutted before treating your ass to several quick slaps. The sensations drawing out sounds you were unaware you could make.

“Please,” you whine.

He smirks into your skin and shakes his head, “But I love watching you beg.” His finger trailed from the top of your vulva to the bottom; his breath still seemingly rubbing your clitoral hood. As his finger was just to touch your clit he pulled away skipping over the area then continued down. Every time he did this you whined and squirmed, craving his finger pads on your deprived clit. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, the feeling of Ron’s muggy breath and his coarse hands that knew all the spots to make you scream.

“Ronnie, I-”

“You're close, I know.” His voice trailed as he put his tongue back to work making you moan at the sudden warm stimulation. He slowly licked up to your clit and finally allowed it some love. Your voice filled the room and you could feel your climax on the tip of your tongue as could he (literally). You felt as if you were filling up until it spilled over, spreading throughout your body making you shiver and moan Ron’s name. Your legs become wobbly and weak causing you to fall flat back onto the bed. Ron flipped you onto your back and wiped your watery eyes.

“How does my princess feel? Can she take another round?” his hands rubbing your cheeks and head. You felt all the warmth from his body next to yours. You turn your head to face him and biting your lip you nod. He smiles, “We can take a break.” Suddenly you feel a surge of energy from the very last remnants of your orgasm; quickly you straddle Ron who looks shocked but also extremely turned on. You slide his pants down slowly with his boxers in tow, revealing his hard cock.

“It's so perfect. Perfect for me.” You place a kiss on the head, Ron smiles as his cheeks turn a light red. You slide down his legs to make it easier for your mouth to reach. You reached for the oil on the floor and put a bit on your hand. Placing your hand he twitched at the temperature change. You gripped the center and began slowly moving up and down placing kisses along the side.

“Sorry it's cold.” He only mumbled under his breath in response. Your other hand made its way to his balls cupping them and beginning to massage them. Dragging your tongue across the head you heard Ron let out stifled moans, using his hand to cover his mouth. His eyes locked with yours, he seemed nervous but you maintained the contact seemingly making him more sensitive. You smile to yourself as you continue to navigate your tongue around his sensitive head, licking up a bit of precum in the process.

“Does that feel good?” You watched as he brought his hand to grab the back of your head; he lightly tugged your hair letting you know he liked what you were doing. “You need to use your words darling,” you whisper smugly. Using his arm to cover his eyes he mumbled, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes it feels good.” His whines and reactions to your hand and tongue only tempting you to mess him up further; but you want to take your time teasing him until he can’t hold it. You start to quicken your pace as you feel Ron getting closer from his expressive voice and face as well as the abundance of precum flowing from him. His hand gripped to your hair hard pushing himself deeper into your mouth just as he came. You felt it slide down your throat as you swallowed, wiping some from the corner of your lip. You continued to run your hand up and down as he was feeling out the final traces of his climax. “If i’m magic you must be mythical,” he huffed catching his breath. You laughed a bit at his joke and crawled up to his chest laying your head on him.

“I guess I must be.” He stroked the back of your head while planting kisses. Your hand remained on his penis, idly rubbing it through which you felt it regain the stiffness it had just moments ago. You slid back down so that his penis was against your stomach.

“I thought you were tired. And yet here you are taking charge,” He chuckled while sliding a hand on your waist.

“You’ve invigorated me.” You practically beam with confidence; giving him a sly look, you sit up on your knees to guide his dick inside. Placing your hands on his chest you began to roll your hips, looking at his pleasure stained face. You leaned over pressing your lips to his. His fingers snaking to your hair and pulling you away from his lips leaving a trail of saliva. You had stopped moving, catching your breath from his sudden aggression. His hips started to entertain you with small thrusts making you moan. Releasing your hair, he sat up keeping you in his lap. Pressing your foreheads together you breathe heavily into him soon after your lips are locked with his once again. The kiss is deep and messy matching his hip movements; you can feel him getting closer. He quickly flips you onto your back, catching you by surprise. You look upon his face, admiring him: his heavy breath, the way he looks at you, it makes you squirm a little. You move your hand to stimulate your clit as Ron drags his tongue against your neck, making you shiver. Both yours and Ron’s bodies were nearing their limit. A warm and powerful sensation began to overtake your body until it suddenly burst and felt like a wave crashing and soon after dissipating back into the ocean. At the same time you could hear and see Ron climaxing with you. You felt him fill you up and then fall next to you both of you catching your breaths. Ron turns his head to face you, pushing your head to face him.

“Your brilliant-” you glare a bit, “-and beautiful” he whispers quickly as he caresses your cheek. You smile leaning into his hand, your whole face a bit red. Bringing yourself closer to him you lay your head on his chest, allowing you to hear his fast beating heart.

“I think I’ll take tomorrow off.” you chuckle. Looking up you give him a suggestive look, he seems to blush but it's hard to tell as his face is all a pinkish red.

“Y…yeah maybe you should.” He slides his hand down the back of your hair as he speaks, while trying to avoid eye contact.

“You're cute.”

“And you're perfect.”

#writing #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #ron weasley #fluff #i love him #my writing #rwi #blurb #rws #hp fanfic #ron weasly x reader #ron weasley smut #ron weasly imagine #ronald weasley #why we using his government name #lol

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alex51324 · 8 months

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A sensitive topic, but useful information

If you have a uterus, etc., and are dysphoric enough about it that you don't go to the gyno, here's a thing I learned this week that may come in handy one day, if you start having pain or other symptoms from that department:

There's a way you can at least get started on having all those organs checked out, without taking your pants off.

It's called a transabdominal pelvic ultrasound--you lay down, fully clothed, and just pull up your shirt as far as your ribcage, and undo your fly and push your trousers/underwear down to your hipbones. (And if you still feel too exposed, you can get a drape for the parts of your abdomen they aren't working on at any given moment.)

The technician goes over you with the little wand-thing (like you see on TV when pregnant people are getting a scan of the fetus); it takes a while, but it doesn't feel like much of anything.

Note: It's common, if you possess the relevant anatomy, for them to do what's called a transvaginal pelvic ultrasound along with the transabdominal one--that does indeed involve taking your pants off (and worse). It gives a better view of the ovaries, apparently, and it can be more convenient for them to go ahead and do that at the same appointment. But both my doctor and the technician who did the test were completely understanding and familiar with the concept that someone might not be up for that. All I had to do was hint to my doctor that I wasn't comfortable with the internal, and she said that was fine, we'd just do the transabdominal scan, and if that didn't provide enough information we'd talk about options based on whatever the findings were.

(The person at the central scheduling hotline, on the other hand, was kind of confused and kept trying to schedule me for the other thing, but honestly, I got the impression she was either very new to the job or just not the sharpest crayon in the box, bless her heart. Once I got in the room with the technician, she immediately grasped the situation and everything was fine.)

So it was all very easy and nontraumatic, and I probably should have had it done ages ago*. If you possess those organs, and are having pain or other symptoms in them that you've been hesitating to bring up** to a doctor because you're not comfortable having an internal exam, there are options available--hopefully your doctor will suggest it right off the bat, like mine did, but if not you can ask for it by name: transabdominal pelvic ultrasound.

(*I've got ovarian cysts, which is common and usually not a big deal, but if I'm reading the report correctly, mine are really quite surprisingly large. I haven't actually talked to the doctor about the results yet; with the holiday weekend it'll probably be Tuesday before I hear back.)

(**I didn't bring up the subject; the doctor felt something when she was palpating my abdomen during a routine physical, because of how fucking huge this cyst is. I should have brought it up.)

#health #healthcare for your uterus #and uterine accessories #gender dysphoria #if you know someone who had a giant ovarian cyst and didn't die let me know #if they did die don't tell me #giant > 10 cm #it's probably fine but I should stop googling now

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amour393 · 7 months

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ok. dragons rising part 2 thoughts

these will be in no particular order but I'll try to stay somewhat organized XD

spoilers ahead!

(this ah. got long)

Characters

Lloyd: As sad as I get when I think about Lloyd growing up, I love what they're doing with him. Seeing the parallels between him and Wu is so poetic and I LOVE the dynamic with Lloyd and Arin. Lloyd is kind and strong and wise and he has been treated so well in dragons rising

Arin: Speaking of, Arin is absolutely amazing. He is precious and adorable and I love him. Sweet polite boy I love you so much you have never done anything wrong ever and I love you

Sora: Sora is fine, I like her but I'm not like obsessed with her character like I am with Arin. I love Sora but I'm never super jazzed about her. Her arc in part 2 was alright but I wish it had more buildup. I think with a few more moments here and there of her trying to use her powers without Riyu would have made the payoff much better. And I know they were trying to go for a "resistance never quits" moment with her speech at the end but. Idk it just didn't hit the same

Zane: Zane I love you. I feel you I also am BROKEN over Pixal being gone. Literally everything about Zane in part 2 was perfect. I love him so much and he loves pixal so much it makes me unwell. Also. Zane Day is now an international holiday

Nya: I love Nya's dynamic with Sora and how she gets to be like. The first positive female influence in Sora's life. Especially because Nya didn't have that as a kid or uh ever so I love that. HOWEVER!!! Oh my goodness gracious give Nya feelings. She has emotions. She has trauma. What are we doing guys. I'll go episode by episode later but I am incredibly salty at how Nya was treated in episode 14. and also. OH MY WORD. WHAT ABOUT JAY. You have said his name TWICE and Cole looked more distraught than you!!! You care about this boy more than almost anyone else in the world!!!!!!!! Why aren't you acting like it???????????? I see you with a lightning dragon but that's like the most we get.

Kai: oh Kai I absolutely love how they are treating you and i also hate it. It's like with Jay gone they were like haha let's make Kai stupid so he'll be the new comic relief! However I love teacher Kai. He is my favorite, the growth, the development, the parallels! Yes! Kai is an accomplished ninja!! He's been a ninja for over 10 years at this point!! He has learned so much and grown so so much since then and I love him so much.

Wyldfyre: I'm about to make a lot of people really mad but I absolutely despise Wyldfyre. I love the concept of Kai having a kid to train (and all of them each having a next-gen kid to train) but Wyldfyre was not the right fit and I just disliked her more every time she was on screen, which was really upsetting because every time it switched back to her and Kai I was already annoyed and I don't want to be upset when Kai's onscreen but she is just so intolerable it made it hard to enjoy Kai, which is so so sad because I absolutely love Kai! Wyldfyre is selfish, arrogant, irritatingly reckless, petty, and INCREDIBLY rude and disrespectful to Kai. I don't care if she was raised in the wilderness. Kai spent all of part 2 trying to help her be better and the most of a character arc we got from her was her. Not acting like a jerk. Which we should not have to be proud of!! Not being a jerk is expected!! That's not a character arc that's just being a decent human being!! I think Wyldfyre's character could have worked in theory if she had literally any likable characteristics but she just doesn't. I don't think I have ever disliked a ninjago character this much which is such a bummer. It fills me with rage every time they compare her to Kai. Sure, in the early seasons Kai was kind of reckless and a bit self-absorbed. But not nearly to this extent, and Kai was still likable. The things about Wyldfyre they try to play off as humor aren't funny, they're just annoying or gross. I'm not opposed to the concept of Kai adopting a feral child, but if the feral child is like this then I don't want it. Replacing Wyldfyre with Skylor or a new character that is actually likable would have made Dragons Rising SO much better.

Cole: on a MUCH more positive note, I literally don't think they could have done Cole any more perfect. I am SO GLAD HE'S BACK I MISSED HIM SO MUCH. Cole being thrown into the Land of Lost Things is absolutely heartbreaking and says so much about his character. Cole, who had an entire character arc over fear of being forgotten ending up in the Land of Lost Things? I AM BROKEN. Dad Cole is back and better than ever. He found a bunch of children and immediately adopted them? Perfection. Could not be better. He actively chooses to remain in the Land of Lost Things to protect them?????? Amazing so in character it hurts and I love him so much. A lot of this season made me remember how much I love Cole. I spent this entire season freaking out over Jay that I forget how much I love Cole and this season did not fail to remind me. His first line being "NO ONE TOUCHES THESE CHILDREN!!!!!" is amazing and perfect and so in character. I cannot applaud what they did with Cole enough. Well done. I am very curious to see where Wu is leading him, can't wait to see him in season 2. I will die mad he didn't get to see Zane or Kai or Lloyd but ITS FINE IM FINE

Geo: I would throw him in with the other characters but oh my gosh. Geo's existence is absolutely perfect. The symbolism?? The metaphors?? Absolutely perfect. Him being a hybrid of two peoples who have a reputation for hating each other being the Master of Fusion, of bringing two things that don't belong together? I am destroyed. It occurs to me that when they first met Geo was probably like "yeah, I'm half geckle half munce and I was exiled from my people since they hate each other and they will never reconcile their differences" and Cole was like "Well that sucks but I have some good news for you" but then Geo couldn't even leave to try to find Shintaro. I am depressed. I love love love Geo based on his symbolism alone, not to mention the fact that his powers are genuinely super cool.

Other Characters: when i tell you I lost my BLOODY MIND when gulch showed up it is a vast understatement. I freaked out I screamed it was amazing. It was so fun seeing Gulch again. This is the dragons rising I love, new characters doing important things and running into old characters we know and love. Frohicky is fun I love him. Lobbo has never done anything wrong and I'm so proud of him for winning the Zane lookalike contest. Slay king. Jordana is uh there I guess, she's boring so far. I will give thoughts on Arrokore when I talk about episode 14

Villains: Beatrix is incredibly boring and I am SO glad she's not gonna be the actual villain. Lord Ras is much more interesting and compelling (is Chima the Wyldness????? Because he is definitely from Chima and the writers are COWARDS for saying anything different). This is the first time we've had a Ninjago plot genuinely stretch across more than one season and I am sooooo relieved that Beatrix isn't actually the big bad. I'm really excited to meet Ras' master. I'm not going to lie I literally forgot about Rapton and had to come back and talk about him. I cannot emphasize how neutral I am about him. He is a Guy and that is the extent of my feelings. Same with LaRow I keep forgetting about her

Speaking of villains! That brings us to the Administration. I absolutely love it. The concept of the Administration is so interesting and I cannot WAIT to learn more about them and see more of them. There's something so interesting and also poetic about an organization of micromanagers being part of the same realm as the Realm of Madness that just. hnng. The Administration is totally sick and i can't wait to see more of them. Which leads us to...

Jay: Hm. Ah. Where do I begin. When I tell you I screamed, I lost my freaking mind it is not an understatement. I think I've watched those same 20 seconds like 30 times at least and I need those five lines tattooed on my brain. I have so many emotions. It breaks my heart. I'm elated. This is everything I've wanted. I'm so mad that's all there was. It makes perfect sense. Why would they do this. There's something that destroys me so much about Jay- sweet, kind, fun, creative, quirky, genuine Jay- in an organization of micromanagers. He is passive-aggressive and sassy and degrading and mean and I LOVE HIM. It is so inherently not who Jay is (except for being sassy I'm so glad he's a little brat) and I think that's great. It makes me SO excited to see what they do with him in season 2. If they don't do him justice I will RIOT. This has the potential to be one of my favorite plot points in all of ninjago history if they do it right, but if they do it wrong I will be broken. He looks so good in this animation, I absolutely LOVE IT. He is beautiful and sassy and it BREAKS ME that they don't know he's there. They were so close and they missed him. No one knows Jay is there. I am destroyed. He's a manager!! He's working his way up in the world!! I am so proud of him. He would buy himself a worlds best boss mug. Everyone loves him and they hate him. I might make a whole other post just on how I need that reunion to go but. I miss him so much. So much. I don't know how long I can wait without them knowing he's there. Go find your brother. You know where everyone else is now GO FIND YOUR BROTHER!!!!

Episodes

11. Temple of the Dragon Cores - Solid episode? It makes me curious about the lore. Surely either the Wyldness or the Garden are Chima there's no way Chima is separate. There are literally snail people and giant trees. If that's not Chima core idk what is. Rapton is there I guess. The guardian thing was cool. Lloyd dropping random earth-shattering facts is such a Wu thing to do I am LIVING for it.

12. Gangs of the Sea - When I say I spent this whole episode wishing for Bentho I'm not joking. I freaking miss him why didn't they mention him it would have been so easy!! Arin you are so cute and I love you.

13. Wyldly Inappropriate - This episode filled me with so much rage solely because of Wyldfyre. I'm sorry Wyldfyre truthers I am happy for you but oh my word it's just painful. She is so arrogant and just straight up unkind I hate her so much. This episode would have been so much better with Skylor instead. Or literally anyone but Wyldfyre.

14. The Last Djinn - Ok as a skybound truther I have So Many Emotions about this episode. How did Nya know this was a place of the djinn and she was just? Fine? Ok. Arrokore is fine as a character but i absolutely hate what it did to the Djinn. Having a character who has lost their whole society is fascinating! I would have preferred if they made him more of a Ronin-type recluse, where he's extremely paranoid and distrusting instead of just straight-up depressed. All of the experience we have with Djinn is that they are extremely powerful and evil and crazy and dangerous. Switching from Nadakhan to Arrokore was such a hard shift that as a fan it was so hard to be able to enjoy Arrokore as a character. That's not the main thing I'm upset about, overall he's likable and he's fine, I just think he could have been a lot cooler. My main issue with this episode is Nya. Is she just perfectly fine? GIVE HER EMOTIONS OH MY GOSH. SHE HAS TRAUMA YOU COWARDS SHOW IT!!!!!! Literally one of THE most traumatizing times in her life was directly tied to a Djinn and she runs into one and she's just. Fine? There was pretty much NOTHING that alluded to Nya having any sort of history with the Djinn except maybe a little bit of salt when she's talking about their showmanship. A Djinn kidnapped and tortured the love of her life. A Djinn almost destroyed her entire home. A Djinn captured her and caused her own possession. A Djinn killed her (more or less). You want to look me in the eyes and tell me she's going to run into a Djinn and just be perfectly fine? Absolutely not. They could have done this SO much better. Show the trauma. Show the distrust. Show me Nya jumping in front of Sora, show me the fear running through her. Give me Sora asking how Nya knows so much about the Djinn and Nya just can't bring herself to answer. Or she does! And we get a moment of "the only other person who remembers is Jay, and he..." [ACTUALLY SAD MOMENT THAT GENUINELY SHOWS THAT NYA HAS EMOTIONS AND ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT HER LITERAL FIANCÉ WHO SHE LITERALLY GAVE UP HER LIFE FOR] and maybe Sora comforts her! A "we'll find him, Nya" moment. Just a moment. Nya left and Jay fell apart and I hate how Nya is shown to be perfectly fine when Jay has been gone for years. We could have had a little arc of Nya overcoming trauma and distrust and learning that not all Djinn are the same! Okay, fine, we didn't get that. But how dare they let Nya start wishing. Wishes got her killed. Wishes caused the most traumatic weeks of her life. Wishes almost killed the love of her life. You want to tell me that she's just totally fine firing off a few wishes? SHE DIED. GIRLY DIED AND SHE'S JUST MAKING WISHES LIKE IT'S NOTHING? We could have had a moment of Arrokore saying they have to wish for it and Nya being like "NO Sora you can't trust him, they're all the same" and then Arrokore proves himself! Even so, Nya should not have let Sora make a wish without protesting, and she CERTAINLY would not have made one herself. As a skybound stan this episode made me so sad. It was genuinely a good episode but I am so so broken up over what could and should have been. Zane did put a picture of Pixal on a broom though so this episode gets points for that

15. They Call It Doom - YOU'RE TELLING ME THE ADMINISTRATION JUST CASUALLY ALSO SHOOTS BLUE LIGHTNING. FINE OKAY THAT'S GREAT. I already shared my Nya and Arrokore and whatnot thoughts but still. I'm still salty. Anyway this episode's ending was glorious. Teacher Kai you will always be famous I'm so sorry this is the trainee you got stuck with. NO ONE TOUCHES THESE CHILDREN lives in my head rent free and his powerup is so so cool. Baby Serpentine. yes.

16. Land of Lost Things - so you're telling me that Cole has adopted stray children who have run away from home because they felt unwanted and unloved. no I'm totally fine I'm SO normal about cole and his character and the respect he got and the sacrifice of him staying there to protect these kids. I am so broken but its fine I'm fine everything is fine

17. The Administration - See aforementioned thoughts on Jay. The Administration is so cool I love them and I am stoked to see more of them. It's giving men in black tbh. They are so cool. When they follow the directions and find Zane and they're like oh hi Zane! we didn't even know you were here! A) peak comedy and B) when he said "who did you think was going to be here?" THAT WAS DIRECTLY TO US THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT JAY AND IM SO MAD AT THEM FOR IT NOT ACTUALLY THOUGH. Also I don't remember which episode Zane Day and Gulch was in but every moment of that was both perfection and also the peak of comedy. The music when Jay walks on screen destroyed me it was so so good. He is a tired office worker the headcanons were RIGHT. Cannot get over that. I love the look of the Administration, the style, it all looks so good. The concept of a whole organization with an entire division assigned to realm reassignment is fascinating. I want to see Kai's teaching in this episode is great and the parallels between him and Wu were amazing. At the end of the day Jay was here and that gave me enough serotonin to last me a good long while.

18. Absolute Power - I'm not gonna lie this was hard to enjoy because I just wanted to see more of Jay but it was a solid episode. I wanna know what Beatrix' sister's elemental power was. Ras is very cool I am so glad he's going to have a bigger role. Nya and Cole's relationship in this episode is everything to me. They are So Siblings and also Best Friends I love them so so much.

19. We Are All Dragons - good for the Imperium kids starting the revolution, but Rapton being the traitor made no sense. It's like they tried to pull a Kallus in Rebels but there was not nearly enough buildup for this to make sense. I really couldn't care less about Rapton so I'm not mad about this it just didn't make that much thematic sense lolll. I did really like Sora's moment with her parents and rejecting them in favor of the found family, but her speech didn't make sense. It would have hit so much more if she actually explained what ~being a dragon~ means but she really just went WE ARE ALL DRAGONS!! and everyone went YEAH!!!!!!!!!! like girlie uh what does that mean. I liked the parallels but Lloyd's moment was better.

20. The Power Within - I still don't understand why Beatrix wanted to uh. destroy the universe but pop off. I'm not gonna lie I literally cheered when Wyldfyre got sucked into a mergequake. Kai's reaction was in theory great but i am still salty it was over Wyldfyre, this child has been absolutely horrible to you Kai what are you doing. I don't understand how everyone is perfectly fine when everyone comes back from the merge quakes when Beatrix literally went through one of them. I loved Sora's showdown with her parents and I can't wait to see what's up with Ras. I will DIE MAD THERE'S NO MURAL ON THE WALL but WHATEVER.

Returning Characters

I want Pixal back so bad. I'm very optimistic she'll be here in season 2 and I cannot wait for her to be back. I'm hoping that she'll come save Zane from, idk, sensing his signal or something.

SKYLOR. OH MY GOODNESS BRING BACK SKYLOR. I need her back so bad it's unreal

I want Vania back. I want fugidove back. WHERE IS GARMADON. WHERE IS HE. WE HAVENT EVEN MENTIONED HIM WHERE IS HE.

I miss Ed and Edna and Lou and Cyrus Borg and Scott and the elemental masters (WHERES KARLOFF I MISS HIM SO MUCH) and BENTHO and yeah. i miss them

SO, I have a lot of thoughts as you can see and this probably isn't all of them. I want all of everyone's thoughts please send me asks send me messages I just want to scream

AND BRING BACK JAY

#that uh. got long #ninjago #dragons rising #dragons rising spoilers #ninjago dragons rising #jay walker #nya smith #cole brookstone #kai smith #ninjago wyldfyre #ninjago arin #ninjago sora #lloyd garmadon #zane julien #i miss pixal #ninjago spoilers #WOW that took longer than anticipated

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writing-whump · 7 months

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Too many bubbles

Matthew finds out bubbly drinks and milk don't mix. Warning for emeto, burps, upset stomach etc.

Matthew was ready for the day to finally end.

He had to leave early, so he didn't get to his morning run, so he also couldn't get to his shake, so he wasn't hungry in the hours he was supposed to be and it messed up his whole day.

To wake himself up for the stupid appointment with the teacher he got the first energy drink he could find in the convenice store. And when he got out he went for another one, cause he found a surprisingly good cherry flavour.

Maybe that should have been a warning enough. That he wasn't used to energy drinks and bubbly drinks. So he should have been careful. But somehow it happened that between the classes and the chaos, he didn't get to have any proper lunch, cause he was hungry at the wrong times and then he only got his cherry energy drink and he ended up drinking about five of them.

Walking home, his stomach was churning. It was upset, bloated and heavy with the bubbles. Matthew couldn't stand the looks people were giving him at the tram and opted to walk the few blocks, hoping it would also ease some of the pressure.

It didn't.

He was so looking forward to shut himself in the apartment and just have some proper alone time to be gross and deal with this. He was muffling burps the whole time as he walked. Why did there have to be so many people out at 4 p.m. anyway?

Finally unlocking the door to the shared apartment, he was welcomed by blissful silence and insistent order.

Isaiah was manic about keeping the place tidy, so this was the cleanest Matthew had lived, ever. Everything had to had its place and surfaces had to be empty, so they could be easily dusted off. Matthew would roll his eyes and complain, but it was effective.

Throwing his bag in the corner and shaking off his shoes without concern, Matthew threw himself onto the cream coloured sofa and sighed in relief. Finally.

Seline should have some work meetings with other university assistants until late today and Isaiah was hardly home preparing for his law exams.

Matthew unbuttoned his pants to as let the bloated loud organ out and massaged at the bubbles to work up some burps. The first few were so loud he self-consciously looked around. The sound carried something terrible with a two floors.

Isaiah just woke up one day and said he signed up for the law entrance exams. Just like that. He was eying a government research project for a while now - something about mental health and city planning and green spaces - and law seemed to be a plus.

So not worried he had not thought about it until now at all. He was doing the entrance and signed himself some classes for the semester, even though he wasn't planning on slowing down with his psychology master.

Apparently, Isaiah could start with the master degree outright if he did some compensation exams, since the master had an international law development focus.

Matthew didn't understand how Isaiah was going to handle so many classes. It just turned his head around.

Matthew had enough to do with his economy classes and he was doing the bare minimum to pass each year, not keeping up with the shortest study plan. He was late a semester or two, so he didn't stress if he got to all classes or not.

But he had to have the most overachieving roomates now. Isaiah with the two masters. Seline working on her PhD proposal and already with her assistant work, although the competition for prae doc scientific personal was crazy.

And here was Matthew, barely passing classes and two semsters late. Way to go.

It was easy to feel stupid between the two. Isaiah was a fussy perfectionist, but the results showed in his grades and professor preferences. He was accepted to more research projects during holidays than Matthew ever applied for.

Seline was an overthinking worryrat, but the passion and ease with which she taught students, did her presentations and wrote her seminar papers was amazing.

Matthew didn't care that much about school. He wanted to be pragmatic, get a useful degree and get out, cause it would heighten his chances. Maybe. Maybe it was just there to look good, since work had very little to do with what you studied. Economy was at least very practical.

Except that became of his temper he did lots of sports, especially running and boxing and then he also had the gym to keep in shape and them it all suddenly took a lot of time.

Maybe it was also his friend circles until now. Who needs school, the attendance was healf-hearted at best if it wasn't currently for exam season. Social sciences were considered to be the most useless anyway. Matthew thought the same thing until he met Isaiah and Seline. Both in social sciences, both wanted to stay in science, and their interest was on a completely different level.

He should really step up his game. Sooner rather than later, or they would leave him behind with their degrees, achievements and geeking.

Matthew massaged some more into his distended belly, ushering up some smaller burps, sprawling on the couch.

Yeah this was nice. He would just enjoy the free evening, get back into his schedule and start tomorrow.

"Hi, I'm home!"

Matthew fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Seline was trashing in the hall as she looked for her slippers. For a girl she was very clumsy and...ungraceful? He didn't notice until he had to live with her and her elephant heavy steps and tendency to crash into everything that stood in her way.

Matthew quickly threw the blanket next to him over his stomach and pants, hiding the annoying bloat and the opened zip. Not something for Seline's delicate eyes to see.

"They let us out early today! Can you believe that without the boss, the meeting takes only half its usual time? Seriously, I love love this job, but the team meetings are the most annoying obsolete things," she chattered as she carried shopping bags through the living room to the kitchen.

"You didn't have to buy stuff. I would have gone tomorrow," Matthew protested at the sight. He couldn't cook and hated cleaning, so shopping was the only contribution left aside the little fiddling with stuff to fix it. He was proud of that one.

"Just a small thing," she waved her hand at him to dismiss the point. "I wanted to try the new oat and nut milks. There are places in Vienna now where you won't get anything else and if I want to try your shakes, I might we well get used to the healthy milk too I'm told, since the shakes are half milk anyway and if I want to get used to a new milk, it better be a good taste. I bought like three sorts. Wanna try them all out?"

Matthew nodded, cause he was in full support of her trying out the protein shakes, getting the vitamins and trying out healthier milks. Whatever the cow milk was, it wasn't milk, but Seline loved it. This was an ongojng battle and a big step for her to initiate it herself. He didn't want to ruin it.

His stomach gurgled a bit, but he felt about ready to stop noticing it. It was fine, he probably massaged enough space into it to try a few sips of milk for sure.

That's when Seline brought six glasses and the three milk sorts, chattering about the fibres and contents.

Matthew swallowed nervously at the milks, but she was already porting it down the glasses and preparing three for him. Full to the brim.

"Don't you dare leave me alone with this! Your idea with the milk, so you better drink it too," she frowned in mocking as she lifted the first glass to him to bump it like champagne.

Matthew obediently clicked the glass to hers and put it to his mouth, smelling it suspiciously. Oat milk sure had a different smell to it. He grimaced a little but she was giving him a glare, so he gulped it down.

Maybe the quicker he got it behind him the better.

His stomach gurgled angrily at the first glass in irritated warning, but it was back to the angry burbling by the second.

Drinking the third glass of whatever weird milk sort it was had his stomach cramping properly.

Matthew scrunched his face and tried to inconspicuously get a hand under the blanket to rub at his stomach.

The last glass left a disgustingly sweet film in his throat and mouth and his stomach gurgled and whined as the milk hit the onslaught of bubbles.

Oh god.

Seline didn't seem to notice, chattering some more about stuff Matthew couldn't even pretend to follow anymore. He felt sweat forming on his face and neck as he fought the pressure down that clawed at his throat.

He turned his head to the side, a fist to his mouth, managing a soundless little burp. But it didn't help. His stomach was bubbling, he could feel the movement at the belly bottom and the tip, right under his skin.

And now the nausea joined the chorus.

The next cramp had him almost doubling over. Saliva was flooding his mouth as the bubbles fought angrily with the three sorts of heavy milk he wasn't used to. His skin was stretched to max and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he tried to breathe through the whines and the cramps. They returned with vengeance and gave him very little pauses to breath between them.

"Matt? Are you listening?" Seline asked, voice all innocent.

"YeaH-urrp-" Matthew presed his closed fist to his mouth. Talking was a bad idea, very risky. "...sure I am."

"Well, you don't look it," she said, hands on her hips from where she sat across him.

Matthew lifted his gaze to her, when a giant bubble pressed at his stomach and rushed up his throat. His cheeks puffed out, but he fought it down in panic. He couldn't, by good conscious, burp in front of Seline.

But that was the last drop. His stomach cramped and heaved and had Matthew scrambling up with urgency. The bubbles and milk wanted out, out, out.

In face of the panicked realisation he was going to throw up, Matthew headed for the kitchen, hand pressed against his mouth.

He made it to the sink at the last second as his stomach heaved and then the milk was rushing out of him with a loud splash of white watery vomit.

Before he could breathe, there was another wave, almost choking him on its way up. He coughed and splattered, the milk bubbling nastily at his mouth and dripping down his nose as he leaned against he sink with both hands.

This was terrible and it wasn't helping.

His stomach heaved and heaved, cramping hard and he wrapped an arm around it as he groaned against the flood of milk and cola and energy drinks he didn't even count or notice as he devoured them instead of lunch.

"Jesus Christ, Matthew! What the hell?" Seline was standing beside him, hand lightly on his back as she hovered, face resolutely turned away from the sink.

Matthew tried to answer only for another wave to rush out of him and his whole body heaved and shuddered as it landed in the sink. At least it was clean from any plates.

He burped another smaller and chunkier wave before a series of empty burps finally, finally eased up the pressure in his stomach. It deflated now, though it hurt from the cramps.

Matthew leaned his forehead against the sink in relief, holding onto the granite with both hands again as he rested.

"That was something. Like a real force," Seline commented, a little disgusted grin on her face as she rubbed his back. "You feeling better now?"

Matthew burped loudly, not minding anymore if she heard or not. He felt deliciously empty and free of the bubbly disaster, breathing hard through his nose and mouth. "...yeah. Sorry. Too many bubbly drinks."

"You should have said something! Bubbles and milk don't mix."

"I don't think the oat thing mixes with me either. Blah. Just the taste of it makes me nauseous."

"You just got a bad memory tied to it now," Seline smiled, tapping his back forcefully.

It ushered up another burp, from the pit of his stomach and Matthew worriedly leaned over the sink in case it brought up something.

But it was empty.

"Come on, let's sit you down." Seline was tugging at the back of his shirt. It was then that Matthew realised that in his rush, he left his pants unzipped.

The thought had his ears burning red.

Seline didn't seem to notice though, so he let the water run in the sink to wash his sickness away and let himself be dragged back to the couch.

Oh yeah, he was so ready for this day to be over already.

---

@bellysoupset

#emeto #emetophilia #whump #bloated #hurt/comfort #emeto writing #whump writing #my writing #werewolf wip #Matt

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hungerofhadarr · 3 months

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Tagged by my friend @aphoticfairy for Wip Wednesday ( come . Play Pretend with me . It is still Wednesday . )

Since I am nervous to tag anyone for this, please feel free to take this post as your invitation to join in if you wish ! ( also tag me so I can see , pease … )

Fic wip for a fic I like to call “ Wyll and Giilvas are going to get married also Ulder is scheming and Giilvas and Ulder are going to enact psychic warfare on each other “ it’ s a great working title !

——

The Ravengard estate. A rather proud, pompous building. Overlooking the sprawling gardens and the intricate stone archways. The hedge maze was a wonderful touch, maybe, when Ulder was younger and he would race through the hedges. Now, it was an all-consuming nightmare to keep trimmed. And it proves his internal compass has… lost its skills, so to say, he’s gotten lost many more times than he will admit.

The halls come alive at known intervals, for political parties. Or political meetings. Or for political holidays. Ulder has to pause and think hard about the last time a celebration occurred in these wall and it didn’t have some form of political weight. The resounding answer being never.

But. Nevermind that. It was still a few months off before anything should be happening. The next larger, world devorning event was the Feast of the Moon, and the many little events that it managed to spawn that Ulder was left trying to herd like righteous tressyms. Which is to say, poorly, with many colourful words, and he ends up tripping over his own feet.

He had just managed to survive the screaming, meowing, forever pissed off hoard of metaphorical tressyms for Highharvestide, and was rather content to spend a few days in bed. Dead to the world. Or in his study. Dead to the world. Or in the gardens. Once again. Dead to the world.

So he was rather concerned when he awoke to a frantic set of knocks on his study door. Reading spectacles clattered on oak floor, book that was laid politely on his lap joining them, Ulder jolted to attention when one of the maids creaked the door ajar. Blue eyes peering inward like a child, checking to see if her parents are sleeping.

“Sire? We have word of visitors. I think they’ll wish to see you, when you’re available, of course.”

She doesn’t push the door open any further, but she does not close it either. Just offers a bow of the head, and her quick footsteps mark her rapid descent down the hall.

Ulder manages to blink a few times, vision taking pity and unblurring after the third try. If he can see, then he can hear. And if he can hear, he can retroactively acknowledge what the maid-girl just said. And if he can acknowledge what was just said…

By the Gods. Give him mercy.

Highharvestide had just concluded. No one was supposed to be coming around. Unless… no. No, the ball was perfect. There would be no way any self-respecting noble would send a pageboy to deliver a message of displeasure. Not so soon, anyhow.

But maids and watchguards do not go into a state of panic over a pageboy, so who could it…?

Putting the window to use, finally pushing the lovingly embroidered curtains to the side- ah, good afternoon to you as well, shower of dust- and he tries to focus his eyes to the horizon.

There is… something! There is something coming up the front path.

He needs his glasses. Damnable things.

By the time he manages to save them from their temporary spot on the cold floor, hips be damned he can manage that bend, the something is further up the path.

Ulder gives the lenses the old one-two swipe with the cloth of his shirt to get rid of anything unneeded smudges, and finally places them back on the bridge of his nose.

Oh. By the Gods.

It’s Wyll. His boy, Wyll Ravengard. Coming up the path with singed armour and a travel pack slinging over his shoulder. He’s grinning, the lingering autumn warmth slowing his pace as he approaches. He looks well. Very much so, since the last chance Ulder had to see him. Would have brought a tear to his eye. If there wasn’t a concern pushing at the base of his skull- joyous! A migraine is already coming on.

Wyll wasn’t the concern. Wyll wasn’t the reason Ulder was feeling the need to call upon the Triad.

The hulking other, a step behind his son? That was the reason.

The Golden Rose. Giilvas Quickfoot. His boy’s betrothed. Ulder’s nightmare.

Ulder wanted to scrunch his face. In fact, he does allow his nose to wrinkle and his lips to go tight. But if he can see them, they can see him. And, since the Fates have made the decision that Ulder is their current focus of tortures, Wyll’s betrothed is scarily perceptive.

So, if he was to snarl from his study, far above them, Giilvas would see it. And made sure Ulder knew.

Instead, with an air of calm and I don’t care that you’re coming up my walk and will be inside my estate, Ulder yanks the dusty old curtains back in place. Then, he allows himself to scowl at the old embroidery that dances across the fabric. He swears he can see those mismatched eyes of the Rose staring back at him in the tapestry. And he swears they’re laughing at him.

With a dizzying clarity that he, Duke Ulder Ravengard, is about to pick a fight with his curtains, he pulls away. There’s a warm rush of embarrassment across his neck. He’s acting like a child. Get it together, he scolds himself.

It is a blessing that his boy and his… boy-in-law? Were coming for a visit. They’ll probably spend the night out at the tavern, and they’ll spend only an hour or two here.

Ulder smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt, and affirms his thoughts. He would not demand Wyll stay the night here. And besides, this was just a visit. It wasn’t like the two of them were coming to the estate with world-changing news. The two of them were travellers- one of which had Ulder’s respect, but that was besides the point- they’d probably be seen leaving Baldur’s Gate by the dawn of the ‘morrow.

Now, time to take his place in the foyer, and wait for his welcomed guests to step inside.

——

“Father, we plan to be wedded!”

Ulder Ravengard was going to smash something. Over his head? Over the head of the smug man clinging to his son? Both of them?

Yes. Both of them, he decides. But, since the Fates chose that their newest decree would make it so no butler bearing two heavy bottles of wine came through the foyer at that instant, Ulder chose the high road.

He smiles, he knows it isn’t quite reaching his eyes but what can he do, and he nods like a village fool at the excitement in Wyll’s voice. There was something soft in his chest, seeing his son so… happy. He truly desires this, he wants the wedding. And he wants his father to know. It was sweet and Ulder wondered why he was so bitter a moment ago.

“Of course, this means I am here to ask for your permission, Mr. Ravengard.”

Suddenly, and without warning, Ulder Ravengard was bitter again. Wonder who caused that.

Giilvas kept a large hand almost permanently interlocked with Wyll’s, and Ulder has half a mind to tell him that Wyll isn’t going to run away on him. But the other half?

Oh.

Oh. It was planning. Spinning a web, even. Laying a dastardly trap. And the Rose would walk right into it.

“Of course. It would be wrong of me to deny you both from each other. But… May I make a request?” Ulder notes how Giilvas nods rather enthusiastically. And how Wyll nods, but slower. Brow furrowing just enough to faintly recrease his forehead. By the Helm, was he already onto him? Ulder didn’t think he was that predictable.

Well, he cannot back down now. He was the Duke, dammit. Dukes do not tuck tail and run.

“I would like to aid in the wedding. You’ll,” and Ulder locks his eyes with Wyll, making sure the fact that the you in this case is singular well known, “ have full access to our coffers for planning. We can even host the ceremony here. The garden can be kept alive by magic, you see-“

“You make it sound like we’ll be wed in the winter.” Giilvas cuts in, and Wyll eyes his father knowingly. Too knowingly. Ulder, suddenly, finds the wall behind Wyll far easier to lock eyes with.

“I was getting to that. You see, to make sure this wedding is perfect, you’ll both have to stay here. Allows us all to plan and have everything ready. It will be perfect, between Uktar thirtieth and Nightal first.”

Wyll sucks in a gasp.

“But that’s the Feast of the Moon-“

Giilvas’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, things slotting into place with Wyll’s words.

“You plan to wed us on the night for the Ball of the Moon.”

Clever boy.

“I think it would be grand. Wouldn’t it?” It also gives him the time to try and scare away the rapscallion that is trying to take his boy from him.

But, in a twist that Ulder feels more shock at the fact he did not see this coming, rather than the twist itself, Giilvas smiles at him. Not really a smile, top lip pulled too far back and it seems to refuse to reach his eyes, but he made the face all the same. It is the thought that counts.

“It’s a deal, gracious Duke Ravengard.”

Oh, the boy wishes to play the game with him? So be it.

Wyll eyes the both of them as they seal the deal with a shake. He is aware, the third party always is, but that only means Ulder will have to choose subtly. Espionage can win a war. It wasn’t like Giilvas knew how to navigate a noble home or the ecosystem of one. He has home advantage- literally.

He holds his potentially probably not son-in-law’s gaze for a few moments that last a century, seeing if he’ll shy away from the eye contact. When those mismatched eyes start to look like they’re laughing at him, Ulder releases the hand and turns to call for someone else.

“I’ll make sure a bed is prepared for you, my good man. And Wyll? Your room is the same as when you left. Make yourself comfortable once more, my son.”

He makes a mental note to tell the maid to make up Giilvas’ room on the opposite wing of the estate. Good luck avoiding squeaky floors in the night, foolboy.

For now, he guides the boys to deposit their belongings and encourages them to shed the heavier layers of armour. Might as well let them have as much comfort as they can now.

Hell stained metal and fabric collect alongside their travel bags, and Ulder holds his tongue. He will ask his son about it all later. The battles. The terrors. The cruelty. Now was not the time for any of it. Especially not when his son was still buzzing with the energy of announcing the plan for marriage.

“Father, are the gardens in good shape right now?”

Ulder knew was Wyll was asking for, and he reminded himself of the eye bags under Giilvas’ eyes. They both must be exhausted. And it would be cruel and unusual to try and being the warfare when one party was in poor condition. Ulder was nothing, if not a merciful man.

“Oh, go ahead Wyll. Everything will be taken care of in here.”

That damn warmth spread in his chest, seeing Wyll relock his hand with Giilvas’ own. He gives a tug, pulling the larger man along, and Ulder cannot help but sigh wistfully when Wyll mentions the maze to Giilvas. They’re going to get lost in there. Ulder knows it to be true.

But, with them both gone and busy, Ulder can plan with no risk of ever-watchful eyes catching him.

How does one drive away a man like Giilvas Quickfoot. It was time to delve into the worlds of speculation and trial and error.

He won’t be empty handed.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #giilvas #wyll #wyll ravengard #ulder ravengard #willow trees #wyll/tav #wip wednesday #wip whenever #bg3 fic

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fireartandstylezine · 5 months

Text

What Happened to #Nanowrimo

A Micro Essay

By Mutiny Crinshaw, co-editor, Grinning Kitten Press

It often appears to me that people in the press & in society at large think of National Novel Writing Month, or Nanowrimo, as some cute little holiday-style project, if not on the level of Mother's Day, than at least Secretary's Day or National Donut Day. Fun, innocuous, something your quirky writer friend does.

That's a misperception. & the scandal which took down the forums & has Nanowrimo's Board of Directors scrambling proves that this perception is in error.

The rumors I have seen in Reddit & elsewhere in the Nano community indicate an abuse scandal. I will not dive into it; I am sure others can inform you much better than I can, & I am not privy to the most important details.

What I want to point out is that Nano isn't just some happy-fun project for your writer friends, although many of your writer friends also think that it is & can be forgiven for wanting to hang out with their other writer friends for this one month just to write.

I want to put Nanowrimo in its larger context.

What began as friends around a table wanting to Chase Those Words & Write a Novel was something anyone could have organized. You, me, your own friends. We organize little events like that all the time.

Nano simply had a certain social capital & gained a certain momentum.

The question of what creative types do with such momentum tells us a lot. It tells us a lot in the context of AI, the Arts, & late capitalism.

The choice of folks behind Nanowrimo was to take that momentum & create a 501(c)3, which is a nonprofit entity under US law.

The ease & lack of controversy around that choice exists in a continuum that constitutes all the rest, shaping the kinds and forms of abuse beyond the most illegal and egregious. It gives legal cover to the broader social harms.

Certainly choosing a nonprofit form is not a mistake on the level of "mistakes" that led to the kind of abuse rumored to be going on around Nano HQ, but it is not an unrelated mistake.

Because it is a mistake about power.

About control.

About bending people to your will.

Most of Nano runs off volunteer labor. Interns, unpaid regional coordinators, & the like.

It is a lot of work they do, year-round. Moderating. Writing grants. Chasing donors.

Meanwhile, HQ has worked with fundraising, PR, branding, & most of all selling memorabilia . . . & the best part of that is, you do not need to "win Nano" to participate in the shopping. Or the donations.

Another problem with a collective enterprise like Nano in our stage of late capitalism is that it encourages writers to hustle. (A phenomenon related to Large Language Models/ChatGPT/AI, but I will not be diving into that too much here.)

Successful hustlers - the REALLY successful ones - have social capital to burn, have wealthy loved ones & donor networks & credit (literal economic credit as well as social credit) that boosts their projects.

So while thousands of writers hunker down for the month of November to hustle their novel into being, the real hustlers at the top can hustle & make money in the name of The Arts.

The average Nano author will not get rich. Will not public unless it is through Amazon. Will work very hard for no money.

But who will make money off Nanowrimo?

Admin.

Thus, it should come as no surprise, if & when Nano HQ's abuse scandal(s) come more to light, that people have been harmed & abused.

The egregious harms lay atop a pervasive culture of exploitation which permeate nonprofits & shape our entire industry of cultural production.

Harm & abuse go hand-in-hand where charity work & volunteer labor are exploited.

The nonprofit-industrial complex provides legally-recognized covers for the harnessing of collective, creative spirit. It drives profits, offsets costs, & masks marketing & PR under a humanitarian guise. In the case of Nanowrimo, it yokes literacy & creativity for the profit of the few admins at the top.

This is "The Arts" in the US. Grifters preying on idealists. Incorporating. & if you are outside the US, you will not go untouched, for our nonprofits come for you & your culture as much as our for-profits do.

In conclusion, we ought to become & remain skeptical of any artistic endeavor that gains prominence under capitalism.

Whether that artistic endeavor promises a hip new movie studio, an artsy social media platform, a rising music label . . . or even a publishing press.

If the Art World & the mainstream media celebrate it, then you know it hates artists. It abuses writers. It milks us for profit.

The best way ahead for Nanowrimo will be for the unpaid regional leads to de-federate from HQ & create new, anti-capitalist enterprises. Artists and writers, we need to form collectives that will meet nonprofits & corporation in cultural combat. No words but class war <3

A rougher draft of this micro-essay was posted earlier on our Mastodon account. It has been edited for stylistic improvements and linguistic and intellectual clarity.

#nanowrimo #national novel writing month #anti capitalism #art #anarchism

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 6 months

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In the Air by Christopher Nevinson, 1917. Lithograph.

Today is Armistice Day, commemorated every year on 11 November to mark the end of the First World War and the armistice signed.⁠ ⁠

In this work by Christopher Nevinson the abstract patchwork of fields is laid out under the wing of a military aircraft, the sharp angles of the composition emphasising the dizzying height of the plane.⁠ During the war, the world was being seen from entirely new angles, inspiring artists to experiment and to depict landscape in new, unexpected ways.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

November 11, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

NOV 12, 2023

In 1918, at the end of four years of World War I’s devastation, leaders negotiated for the guns in Europe to fall silent once and for all on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. It was not technically the end of the war, which came with the Treaty of Versailles. Leaders signed that treaty on June 28, 1919, five years to the day after the assassination of Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand set off the conflict. But the armistice declared on November 11 held, and Armistice Day became popularly known as the day “The Great War,” which killed at least 40 million people, ended.

In November 1919, President Woodrow Wilson commemorated Armistice Day, saying that Americans would reflect on the anniversary of the armistice “with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations…."

But Wilson was disappointed that the soldiers’ sacrifices had not changed the nation’s approach to international affairs. The Senate, under the leadership of Republican Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts—who had been determined to weaken Wilson as soon as the imperatives of the war had fallen away—refused to permit the United States to join the League of Nations, Wilson’s brainchild: a forum for countries to work out their differences with diplomacy, rather than resorting to bloodshed.

On November 10, 1923, just four years after he had established Armistice Day, former President Wilson spoke to the American people over the new medium of radio, giving the nation’s first live, nationwide broadcast.

“The anniversary of Armistice Day should stir us to a great exaltation of spirit,” he said, as Americans remembered that it was their example that had “by those early days of that never to be forgotten November, lifted the nations of the world to the lofty levels of vision and achievement upon which the great war for democracy and right was fought and won.”

But he lamented “the shameful fact that when victory was won,…chiefly by the indomitable spirit and ungrudging sacrifices of our own incomparable soldiers[,] we turned our backs upon our associates and refused to bear any responsible part in the administration of peace, or the firm and permanent establishment of the results of the war—won at so terrible a cost of life and treasure—and withdrew into a sullen and selfish isolation which is deeply ignoble because manifestly cowardly and dishonorable.”

Wilson said that a return to engagement with international affairs was “inevitable”; the U.S. eventually would have to take up its “true part in the affairs of the world.”

Congress didn’t want to hear it. In 1926 it passed a resolution noting that since November 11, 1918, “marked the cessation of the most destructive, sanguinary, and far reaching war in human annals and the resumption by the people of the United States of peaceful relations with other nations, which we hope may never again be severed,” the anniversary of that date “should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations.”

In 1938, Congress made November 11 a legal holiday to be dedicated to world peace.

But neither the “war to end all wars” nor the commemorations of it, ended war.

Just three years after Congress made Armistice Day a holiday for peace, American armed forces were fighting a second world war, even more devastating than the first. The carnage of World War II gave power to the idea of trying to stop wars by establishing a rules-based international order. Rather than trying to push their own boundaries and interests whenever they could gain advantage, countries agreed to abide by a series of rules that promoted peace, economic cooperation, and security.

The new international system provided forums for countries to discuss their differences—like the United Nations, founded in 1945—and mechanisms for them to protect each other, like the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), established in 1949, which has a mutual defense pact that says any attack on a NATO country will be considered an attack on all of them.

In the years since, those agreements multiplied and were deepened and broadened to include more countries and more ties. While the U.S. and other countries sometimes fail to honor them, their central theory remains important: no country should be able to attack a neighbor, slaughter its people, and steal its lands at will. This concept preserved decades of relative peace compared to the horrors of the early twentieth century, but it is a concept that is currently under attack as autocrats increasingly reject the idea of a rules-based international order and claim the right to act however they wish.

In 1954, to honor the armed forces of wars after World War I, Congress amended the law creating Armistice Day by striking out the word “armistice” and putting “veterans” in its place. President Dwight D. Eisenhower, himself a veteran who had served as the supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe and who had become a five-star general of the Army before his political career, later issued a proclamation asking Americans to observe Veterans Day:

“[L]et us solemnly remember the sacrifices of all those who fought so valiantly, on the seas, in the air, and on foreign shores, to preserve our heritage of freedom, and let us reconsecrate ourselves to the task of promoting an enduring peace so that their efforts shall not have been in vain.”

—

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#first world war #armistice #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #Dwight D. Eisenhower #war #peace #war and peace #soldier #soldiers #veterans #history #WWI #WWII

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jerzwriter · 1 year

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Thankful

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan)

Rating: Teen

Category: Holiday/Fluff

Summary: Ethan and Kaycee’s Thanksgiving plans go awry, but they end up going better than they could have ever planned.

Words: 2400

A/N: My babies are out and celebrating this Thanksgiving! I’m participating in @choicesflashfics the prompt is highlighted below. Also participating in @choices-november2022 – Day 13 – Try something new. 😊

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

It was a grey November morning. The morning after the mercury hit freezing for the first time this season, and while the forecast didn’t call for it, it felt like snow. In other words, the perfect day to stay in bed.

Ethan grumbled as he woke, without the aid of an alarm clock for once. Rolling over, he wrapped his warm arms around Kaycee, who smiled and cooed in response.

“Good morning,” he mumbled groggily into her ear.

“Good morning,” she smiled, rolling over to face him. “You didn’t go for your morning jog?”

“It’s a good day to stay in and snuggle.”

“Every day is a good day for that! Come on, Ethan, join me on the dark side. We have cookies!”

“I’ll give it consideration,” he laughed. “But, speaking of cookies, should I bake the cranberry walnut ones you like later today? We really have to get ready for Thanksgiving?”

Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, I do like those. But since it’s just going to be the two of us, we’ll be fine with my pumpkin pie.”

“Have I mentioned how glad I am it’s just you and me? Both off, a quiet day at home….”

“…watching the parade, taking it easy, we can stuff ourselves silly.”

“We could eat naked.”

“I mean, if you really want to,” Kaycee laughed. She leaned over to kiss him gently when the alarm began to blast. Collapsing onto his chest, she groaned. “Of course! It was too good to last!”

“Think on the bright side. We have many mornings like this in front of us.”

“Mornings where I get you to skip your morning jog? Doubtful!”

“Hey, I promise. Now, let’s get ready for work.”

~~~~~

Kaycee was confident their relationship being out in the open would never lose its novelty. Walking down the hallway with Ethan at her side and no worry about veering just a little too close, was more exhilarating than she had anticipated. But nothing topped when they reached his office each day, then he’d turn and give her a little peck on the cheek before she moved on. Every time he did that, she wanted to skip down the hallway like a lovesick teenager, and the fact that she could contain it was a source of great pride.

She stopped at the nurses’ station to pick up her assignments and was delighted to find Sienna.

“Hey, stranger,” Kaycee smiled. “I’ve missed you!”

“I miss you too. I honestly don’t know why you pay rent anymore. You should just move in with Ethan already.”

“In time,” Kaycee winked as she plopped into the chair next to her friend. “In time. So, what’s new?”

“Not a thing.”

“Oh, come now, something must be going on.”

But when Sienna looked up, her eyes told Kaycee all she needed to know. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. She placed a gentle hand on her friend’s wrist and implored her to share.

“I’m just… lonely. I’ve been working around the clock, and the apartment is almost always empty these days. Jackie is heading home for the holiday, and Elijah and I are on opposite schedules. It’s usually just Aurora and me, but she’s spending a lot of time at her aunt’s since her parents and grandparents are visiting for Thanksgiving.”

“Will you be joining them?”

“They invited me, but I’m not sure. I’m working anyway,” she shrugged.

“You are? I thought the pediatric interns had it covered?”

“I volunteered. I may as well, they had plans, and I didn’t.”

“Then we have to get dinner this weekend,” Kaycee insisted. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“As if I could ever say no to you anyway.”

~~~~~

Ethan was reviewing a journal in his office when Tobias came strutting in, making himself comfortable at the seat in front of Ethan’s desk.

“What are you doing here?” Tobias asked. “I figured you’d be gearing up for Thanksgiving.”

“It’s just Kaycee and me this year; not much work to do.”

“Ah, just the two of you… nice!” Tobias chuckled. “At least we know that drumstick will get lots of gravy.”

“You know you’re incorrigible.”

“Yeah, it’s part of my charm.”

“What about you? Headed to DC?”

“Nah. Mom’s spending the holiday in Cancun this year. She’s got a new boyfriend.”

“So, what will you be doing?”

“Working.”

“Why? I know I had you off schedule?”

“Yeah, well… I’ve got no plans… and no one to spend it with. So,” he shrugged. “I may as well come in.”

“Are you reconsidering settling down with someone,” Ethan smirked.

“Nah,” Tobias grinned. “Let’s not get crazy. But, it would be nice if… you know, never mind.”

“No, what were you going to say.”

“It’s nothing,” Tobias insisted, gazing at his pager. “Gotta split, boss; I’m needed in post-op. Have a nice holiday if I don’t see you.”

~~~~~

Ethan was looking for Kaycee, and based on the time, he knew she’d be making a fresh cup of coffee in the breakroom. He smiled when he walked in and proved himself right.

“I know,” Kaycee said, wrapping up a call. “But we’ll be down for Christmas; it’ll be here before you know it. Please tell Dad I love him too.”

Ethan could see the tension on Kaycee’s face, so he took her hand as he sat beside her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I just feel a little… guilty. My mom is feeling down, it’s the first Thanksgiving we won’t spend together, and she’s… blue.”

“And you?”

Kaycee cupped his cheek in her hand with a soft smile. “We have our plans, and I’m looking forward to them. But….”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he finished. “I had the same conversation with my dad earlier.”

“Wait, Alan isn’t going to be alone, is he?”

“No, he’s joining Naveen, but it feels odd knowing he’s coming to Boston for Thanksgiving, but it won’t be with me.”

They both looked down in silence, then blurt out in unison, “Do you think we should….”

Kaycee laughed at how in tune they had become.

“Thanksgiving… just us and our parents?”

“That sounds perfect,” Ethan grinned. “We have that huge turkey anyway; there’s no way we’d eat it all anyway.”

“Speak for yourself, buster. I plan on eating my weight in mashed potatoes on Thursday!”

“I don’t blame you,” he agreed. “My mashed potatoes are phenomenal.”

“Everything you make is phenomenal. Speaking of which, maybe you should make those cookies after all, and I’ll make a second pumpkin pie.”

“Really? Do you think that’s necessary?”

“Ethan. It’s Thanksgiving, and if I don’t go up a dress size, it means it was a failure.”

“Then, by all means, another pie it is.”

~~~~~

“You are such a bonehead. I can’t believe I agreed to this!”

“You know, Jackie. It’s almost Thanksgiving. A little gratitude would be nice. I’m saving you the cost of a taxi.”

“You know what, meathead, suddenly the $30 seems like a bargain.”

“Children…” Kaycee interrupted, “What did I tell you about fighting in the hallways! You frighten the patients.”

“Nah,” Bryce smiled, “They think we’re their own personal sitcom.”

“I can see why!” Kaycee chuckled. “So when do you two head out?”

“Tomorrow night,” Jackie informed. “I just hope the weather holds out. It really looks like snow.”

“The forecast isn’t calling for it,” Kaycee replied.

“Yeah,” Jackie sighed, “But meteorology is not a perfect science.”

“We’ll be fine, Jackie,” Brice insisted. “This time tomorrow, I’ll be on the way to catching a wave in Hawaii, and you’ll be heading to your parents… missing me desperately.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll be doing.”

Kaycee shook her head at her friends. “OK, you two, I have to get going, but give me a big Thanksgiving hug, I’m off tomorrow, so I won’t see you again.”

“Lucky,” Jackie teased. “Are these the benefits of sleeping with your boss?”

Kaycee smiled as she walked away, “Bye, Jackie!”

~~~~~

Thanksgiving day arrived, and Ethan’s kitchen was in disarray. It was delightful chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

Ethan chuckled at Kaycee as he chopped celery. Sitting at the table with a cup of ‘comfort eggnog’ in hand, she was still weepy from seeing Santa arrive at the Macy’s parade.

“You hanging in there, hon?” He asked.

“Mmm, hmmm,” she assured. “One more sip and I’m reporting for duty.”

“There’s really no need,” Alan insisted. A freak storm led him and her parents to come to Boston the night before. “You hadn’t planned on having extra hands here, so you go relax a little.”

Kaycee looked at him mischievously, her eyes narrowed into slits. “You’re just nervous having me in the kitchen! Be brave enough to admit it!”

“That may be part of it,” he grinned.

“Can’t say I blame you there,” Rose chimed in.

Ethan smiled sympathetically in her direction. “Sweetheart, it seems your reputation precedes you.”

Kaycee stuck her tongue out at all of them. “I’m going to help! It’ll keep my mind off Jackie & Bryce. I’m worried about them flying in this weather.”

“They’re flying?” Ethan asked. “In this weather, they’ll probably be grounded.”

“Not yet,” she said with a worried tone. “But look at this! The news says parts of Cambridge are without power.”

“Oh! And on Thanksgiving Day!” Rose lamented.

“Is Harper’s area impacted?” Ethan asked. “Her whole family is there.”

“Hard to say, but it appears so.”

“We’re very fortunate that we’re all here together,” Naveen said, handing everyone a glass of wine.

“Hear, hear,” Alan agreed.

After putting the last side dishes in the oven, Kaycee sat on the couch and scrolled through Instagram to unwind.

The first post was a photo of Sienna and her family from a Thanksgiving long ago. “Missing each of these people so much today.” Kaycee could just feel her sadness. She looked up to find Ethan glancing at his phone poignantly.

“Sienna’s post?” she asked.

“No, Tobias. We’re texting, and he reminded me about one year when we were at Hopkins. The weather was so bad I couldn’t get back to Providence, so he invited me to dinner with his family in DC.”

“That must have been a far more formal affair than you were used to.”

“I wouldn’t know; we never made it. The roads were too bad in Baltimore, too. After sliding around for a half-hour, we decided to turn around. That’s when his car got stuck in a snow bank.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh, yes! We walked the rest of the way to our apartment in the middle of the storm. We stopped at the convenience store along the way and our Thanksgiving dinner. Two cans of turkey noodle soup, two freezer-burned turkey pot pies, some cranberry juice, and Ring-Dings for dessert.”

“That’s horrible!”

“No,” Ethan smiled wistfully, “It was one of the most fun, memorable Thanksgivings of my life.”

Naveen walked into the living room, shaking his head. “Harper called. She and her family are heading to the Wyndham hotel next to Edenbrook. At least they’ll be warm, and if lucky, they can order room service.”

“That’s terrible!” Kaycee frowned. “It seems everyone’s Thanksgiving has been ruined this year except for ours.”

Ethan looked at her sadly. “I take it Jackie and Bryce didn’t get on their flight?”

“Nope. It was delay after delay, then all flights were canceled.”

“Oh my!” Naveen stated. “Do they have other plans now?”

“They don’t,” Kaycee fretted. “They’re just trying to get home now.”

Ethan reached over and took Kaycee’s hand. “Where are Elijah and Raf?”

“Working. Same shift as Sienna and Tobias,” she replied when a lightbulb went off. She looked up at Ethan, who was staring directly at her, and they could read each other’s minds.

“We have entirely too much food anyway,” he said.

“And the hospital’s just two blocks away. We could walk there….”

“No need,” Ethan interrupted. “The roads to the hospital are always the first to be cleared. We could load the food in the car and be there in no time.”

“We could set the food up in the team’s office and eat there….”

The two turned to Alan, Naveen, and Casey’s parents. “Would you mind?” Ethan asked.

Alan smiled back. “Honestly, son. We were hoping you’d make this decision.”

“Come on, David,” Rose said with a slap to her husband’s leg. “Let’s go wrap up some food!”

~~~~

Within an hour, a conference table was transformed into a smorgasbord, and an office into a warm dining room, filled with chatter, laughter, and, most of all, love.

“Holy crap!” Tobias yelled as a snow-covered Bryce and Jackie sauntered in. “Who invited the abominable snowman to this thing?”

“Very funny,” Bryce grimaced. “We had to walk ten blocks in this. The car couldn’t make it.”

“And he cried like a baby for five of those ten blocks,” Jackie groused.

“Really, Jackie? Can you feel any of your outer extremities?”

“Nope, and it’s probably for the best.”

“Here,” Ethan said, handing them each a hot toddy. “this will warm you up.”

“Cute,” Jackie smiled. “But I’ll take a coffee and then a tequila.”

Sienna ran over and took the drink out of Jackie’s hand. “In that case, give me yours!”

“But you’re not cold! I should get that!” Bryce insisted.

“Nope,” Sienna grinned, “But Ethan’s been using that expensive brandy, and this girl is on a budget. So let go, Lahela!”

Kaycee joined Ethan and slid her hand into his. “Have you heard from Harper?”

“Yes. She and her family are coming over. Do you think we have enough food?”

“More than enough.”

“Hey,” Tobias yelled, “if we run low, we can always run to the 7-11 for some freezer-burned pot pies!”

“I think some things are best left in our med school years, Tobias.”

This is wonderful,” Kaycee beamed. “Everyone is so happy.”

“They sure are.”

“And you,” she asked. “I know people aren’t exactly your thing.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” he smiled. “You’re a person.”

“Correction,” she laughed. “People other than me usually aren’t your thing.”

“That’s OK,” he said, pulling her into a hug, “It’s true. I’ve never done something like this before, but it’s nice.”

“It’s not the Thanksgiving we planned, but it is wonderful.”

“It really is,” he agreed. “But I do have a question.”

“Sure.”

“When we get home, can we still make use of my drumstick tonight?”

“Oh, you’ve been such a good boy. I think we’ll have extra servings,” she laughed.

“Now, that is the perfect way to end this. Happy Thanksgiving, Rookie.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Ethan.”

@choicesholidays

#open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices flashfics #choices monthly challenge #thanksgiving

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sapporo-division · 7 months

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Relationship: Family - Yuki Kuraokami

Alexander (White) Kuraokami (56 years old) — Yuki’s father. He’s british businessman who rarely shows emotions just like Yuki. He works as the president of WHITE Co. that runs a luxurious cars & sportscars manufacture company and whom Yuki have barely seen him for a long time. He wasn’t close to his dad after being apart in working overseas for a long time. His dad was always busy with his own business and didn’t bother come to visit the family together during holidays or day offs. Sadly his father rarely sees or knows his own children, one of them had a bad relationship. Deep down it almost made his frozen heart shattered knowing that his father completely forgotten about caring of his own family so Yuki tried many attempts to reconnecting him through phone calls, messages and asking his own siblings if they can contact him, telling him that he should come home to see his children (or at least Yuki as well) but apparently his dad doesn’t have time to contact him and Yuki had no choice but to give up on him and pray for a miracle of his dad to realize what’s more important in his life.

Kimiko Kuraokami (49 years old) — Yuki’s mother. Kimiko works as Chief of the Chuohku Foreign Affairs and is a member of the Party of Word who gained the position of international connections with all around the world. Kimiko is a Japanese women where she resides in Japan like Yuki. She came from a traditional wealthy family, growing up to be intelligent, cunning, and refined noble lady in understanding the harsh side of the world works. When she was in England, she and Alexander met through an arranged marriage from their respective fathers for both families tied together and became business partners but in the condition to use Kuraokami as the family name. She is stern and always serious, following to her family’s harsh rules on doing whatever what’s best to be in top for the family even if it means putting her children to a strict discipline. Same with his dad, he barely seen his mom due to her work as Chuoku member dealing with other countries issues but they’re still in contact sometimes through phone calls and sometimes they would meet up. He kind of admires and respect his mom wholeheartedly but sometimes he doesn’t like her ways & beliefs in conquering Japan by Otome’s words, hoping his mom could see the right path

Morine Kuraokami (29 years old) — Yuki’s younger brother. He is one of the family member whom Yuki is close with. He resides in UK living with his siblings, working as the Secretary of WHITE Co. even though Yuki and Morine live far apart, they still have a good brotherly bond and they sometimes contact with eachother. He is gentle and well-mannered man who treats people with kindness but hates to get involve with disputes or taking sides. He cares Yuki a lot as much as his other siblings. In the past, Avaron and Yuki were treated strictly by their mom, forcing them to study and excel all subjects from school to be a successful sons of Kuraokami family however he still isn’t quiet smart or talented as his older brother. Both ended up working with their father’s company. After Yuki left the household moving to Japan, Morine was the only one will take responsible in looking after his siblings on doing his best to be a good big brother for them. Morine deeply cares his siblings but on the other hand he has mixed feelings towards his parents from parental neglection and being taught to respect and love their parents as what every children must do

Torvald Kuraokami (27 years old) — Yuki’s second younger brother. He doesn’t have a job however he is a biker spending all his life traveling around the world. He is very cheeky, carefree, and enjoys toying people. Yuki also had a good relationship with Torvald although they havent made contact with eachother for a very long time. The reason he became a biker is because Torvald used to have a huge arguement with his parents (mainly his mom) how they pushed him too hard to be successful as his older brothers however Torvald had enough of living up to his parents expectations from him which gives him the guts to rebel against them by leaving the household. Until now Torvald is quiet happy with his freedom lifestyle even if he still have a bad relationship with his parents and wouldn’t want to go back to the family as long as they’re alive. Despite that, he still love Torvald while behind that band boy facade, Torvard admits he misses his family a lot

An Kuraokami (22 years old) — Yuki’s younger sister. She is a university student but she rather to stay with her family’s home instead of college dormitory. She is a easy-going and friendly young woman who can be easily to talk with, especially gets along with her siblings. She also shown to be a mature young woman on the surface however only her family knows she’s actually a loud person, spoiling her younger siblings with a big-sister love except Yuki. Between him and Alice, their relationship were more like a comical sibling rivalry were they endlessly belittle each other. She enjoys bullying and teases him by commenting shameless remarks (being old, always frowns, virgin bachelor, King Arthur’s simp and who knows what). It’s probably because she was jealous how the rest of the siblings adored Yuki more than her but despite the constant tease, he does care about Alice even if he has to tolerate her teasing but that doesn’t mean he won’t back down the fight, same goes to her though. As she was raised as a noble and taught how to deal with the harsh lifestyle world, she won’t be afraid to get her hands dirty like for example, her hobby is film making so she secretly hid her phone away from anyone eyes without noticing they were video recorded and use those videos to make into a film (definitely use for blackmail, bribe or make fun of them)

Avaron Kuraokami (18 years old) — Yuki’s third younger brother. He’s a high school student who’d soon to be graduated. Avaron is generally quiet and intelligent young boy, consider himself to be the brightest & talented student in his school but has a hidden arrogant rich kid attitude that he often look down on others and makes this very clear through frequent patronizing comments. He may be blunt and not afraid to express his thoughts but his delivery tends to come off as rude although he acts politely only towards his family except Eri & Erity for constantly pranking him. He also deeply respects and admires his dad & Yuki to the point he wanted to be cool as them so he puts on an effort to act mature and reserved as them. As an older brother, Yuki cares about Avaron even couldn’t help to praises his efforts although he worried about his bad attitude, thinking he won’t have friends like him for the rest of his life so he usually tend to give him a wise advice of changing himself

Eri & Erity Kuraokami (15 years old) — Yuki’s identical twin younger sisters. They are a high school students and currently reside in UK with the rest of the siblings. Eri and Erity are a energetic and playful pair, enjoying doing impressions of each other and they share Torvald’s cheeky personality of teasing people out of fun. They are also mischievous troublemakers who likes to make silly pranks towards any target they’re interested; one of them had to put up with them was Avaron. It has been shown that they’re identically playful however both of their characteristics are greatly different from each other as Eri being more outgoing and dependable person for her younger twin to count on while Erity is a pleasant person, acting in a selfless and sweet manner whom her older twin cared so much (even being overprotective). Yuki loves their twin younger sisters and enjoys going along with their antics, knowing that their pranks didn’t cause harms way while the twins also loves him. They pretty much can understand his true feelings with his cold expression showing. After they heard their brother participate DRB tournament, the twins wanted to cheer him on

Madoka Kuraokami (10 years old) — Yuki’s fourth younger sister. She is a energetic little girl with a gigantic heart. She loves cute things and dollies but most importantly her greatest love is her family. Yuki adores his little sister however his time with Madoka was short, only during vacation that he rarely spend time with her. Even though he is still close to her and does have time playing pretend (though he wasn’t fond of it) with her. Surprisingly she is smart but not too smart though and eloquent, able to talk down anyone with her sass although she’s naive of her parents neglecting them for a long time. Her older siblings would make make up white lies for her to believe they were always busy from work just to save Madoka’s young innocent heart but those little white lie didn’t fool her at all. In fact, she already get a hint by their obvious absence however she chose to pretend she didn’t know anything. The reason she’s doing it because as an older sister of Hikaru, she too wants to protect his innocent heart

Hikaru Kuraokami (7 years old) — Yuki’s fourth younger brother. He is a sweet innocent boy who is generally shy however he is actually quiet friendly and very curious on things whenever he set his eyes on. For example, he has a fondness with insects & rodents that he wasn’t concern of touching a tarantula or bringing bunch of rats to his home which brought the maids and his siblings to be creeped out of his morbid interests. He’s very close to his siblings and also misses Yuki a lot. Hikaru fully admires Yuki and they get along well although there are times he got scared of him whenever he sees his big brother because of his cold expressions; even though it’s only his normal expression that he couldn’t help to cry over it. Regardless, he knows his big brother wouldn’t hurt him or anyone because he is a kind brother to him. He is also very naive of his parents neglecting them for a long time. His older siblings would also make up white lies for him to believe they were always busy from work just to save Haruki’s young innocent heart unlike Madoka.

#hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #oc division #sapporo division #polar knights #yuki kuraokami #family relationship #it’s one big family for Kuraokami family

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dcbbw · 1 year

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American Thanksgiving

This original story is my submission (if it isn’t too late) for a writing challenge that has now closed. (Gonna post it anyway) I decided to go with a holiday (Thanksgiving) theme, and I am really, truly crossing fingers hoping it all makes sense.

THANK YOU to those who read this over and assured me it wasn’t boring and for giving me the idea that maybe I can follow-up on these characters for Christmas. A huge THANK YOU to all who will read this.

Please, please, please forgive any typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. While MS Editor rates this as 99% error free, it’s me and I am tired and it’s getting really close to my bedtime.

All characters belong to me

Word Count: 4,775

Song Inspiration: Wash., Bon Iver

No triggers or warnings that I can think of, but there are mature themes in this story. If you find any part of the content disturbing, please let me know so I can tag appropriately.

PS--For anyone curious why Scott Peterson is an unfortunate name choice, here’s your answer.

Atlanta, GA

“You look pretty, Linda,” Yoyo grudgingly complimented me as I slip my feet inside of brown pumps that are barely on the right side of being termed worse for wear.

It’s Thanksgiving Day, one of the few days of the year the shelter allows us to stay in all day; even better, we’re allowed to stay in bed all day with the exception of meals. For those of us fortunate enough to have somewhere to go, curfew is extended until 8pm.

This year, I’m among the fortunate. My sister Lisa is having dinner at her house: it will be a small affair with Lisa’s husband and daughter, our sister Lucy and her family, and my son Famir. I haven’t seen my only child in over a decade because of my drug addiction; I last saw him when he was 13.

It was for the best.

I’ve lived a life of street corners and jail cells.

Lisa raised him right, keeping my son off the streets, and involved in studies and sports. And now my baby is 28 years old, headed to Dubai to work for an international finance company. I have no idea when I’ll see him again after today.

I rise from the side of the twin bed, tossing Yoyo a quick glance. “Thank you. I’m sorry you won’t be with your family today.”

I am rummaging in my locker for my only pair of earrings; my eyes fall upon my 30-day chip.

Thirty days clean.

It’s a milestone for me, one that I’m proud of and am eager to share with my son. Finally, after decades given to the streets, I’m ready to rejoin society and be the mother he deserves. I quickly attach the jewelry to my earlobes, swipe on some lipstick, and tug the slightly too-small sweater dress down around my knees; I am just pulling on a shabby wool coat, turquoise in color with a faux-fur collar, when my name is called over the loudspeaker.

I shut the locker door, and again catch sight of Yoyo; she has her bedcovers pulled up to her chin. Her face is in profile, and I see tears shine her ebony-colored cheeks as she stares at the bare branches of the tree outside the window.

“I’ll bring you back some pie,” I promise as I hurry out the door.

Lucy is waiting for me at the shelter’s entrance. She looks … expensive. Her coat is a simple, yet stylish, ankle-length gray wool. Underneath is a black jumpsuit, complemented with a heavy turquoise pendant. Her hair is perfectly styled, her olive complexion smooth. When we hug, I smell her fragrance; it’s a woodsy floral. Her red lipstick imprints itself on my cheek when she kisses me.

My sister chats excitedly about how happy everyone is I’m coming to dinner as we walk to her Lexus SUV; I’m fastening my seatbelt when she presses money into my hand. I glance down and back at her, pleasantly puzzled. I didn’t agree to come to dinner for a financial reason.

“You’re doing good, Linda. I don’t know if you’re still using or not, but you’ve been in one place for almost two months. It’s … progress, and progress should be rewarded.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. I stare out the passenger window, looking at dilapidated houses and cracked sidewalks pass by before peppering my sister with questions.

“How’s Famir? Is he good? Does he know I’m coming?”

I feel the shift in Lucy’s demeanor as the car gently brakes at a stoplight., and my shoulders tense ever so slightly.

We’re at the infamous intersection known to us locals as the War Zone; it’s a red-light district where prostitutes, drug dealers, and gang bangers converge. A few homeless folks, too old or too riddled with illness to support their habits, huddle inside of bus shelters, their outstretched hands silently begging for money from the few passersby.

Women with skinny bodies and dead eyes sit on the stoops of vacant houses that are boarded over and splashed with graffiti, watchful for both potential johns and the police. There are no holidays here, no 30-day chips, no hope.

“He’s not coming,” my sister says softly. “He’s attending a Friendsgiving or something.”

The hurt I feel at hearing her words is physical; my gut aches, as if I’ve been sucker-punched. My baby, my reason for getting clean, the only person I want to see today … is abandoning me when I need him most.

Tit for tat.

I already know the answer, but I ask the question anyway. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

I feel my sister’s hand grip my wrist. Her voice has tears in it when she replies. “Famir just needs time to process things. It’s a lot of pain and broken bridges between you two. He needs to see that you’re changing for the better, for real this time.”

Except he can’t see if he isn’t showing up.

I am quiet as tears burn the corners of my eyes; my heart sinks as I realize that I’ll never get a chance to show him that I do love him, have always loved him. That my decisions, which appear selfish on the surface, were actually borne of wanting the best for him. I couldn’t be his mother and pimped by drugs at the same time.

I feel Lucy’s eyes on me. “Lin, don’t cry! He can still swing by after his dinner for dessert. You may still be able to see him!”

But I no longer want to go. I can’t deal with facing my son’s condemnation and judgement. In my mind for the past two weeks, I had visions of a picture-perfect reunion: forgiveness, healing, my son and I beaming and basking in the pride of my triumphant return to life and his understanding of my choices.

My thirty days of sobriety has given me just enough clarity to realize the problem is I can only see it from my perspective: I didn’t abandon him; I gave him to his aunt who was better equipped to raise him. Unsure if I cannot or merely refuse to see the situation through Famir’s eyes.

I may be ready to function in society, but I am unprepared to deal with reality.

“Let me out,” I say.

“What? No!”

“STOP THE FUCKING CAR!” I yell forcefully, emotions tearing me apart.

Lucy stops the car in front of a rundown strip mall; only the McDonald’s and 7-11 are open. Panhandlers loiter around both doorways. I recognize three of the folks: Two are well-known drug dealers, conversing in front of the liquor store; Doobie and Minnesota Fats. The third is my former street-running partner, Pinky; she’s eating fries while squatting in front of the beauty supply store.

Lucy is openly crying, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “LINDA! Don’t let this be a setback! Famir may not be ready, but your sisters, your niece, your nephews ARE! What am I supposed to tell everyone?”

There is a soft thump as her forehead hits the colorful fabric encircling the wheel.

I shove the wad of cash into my coat pocket while unlocking the passenger door.

“You can tell them I had 30 days sober.”

I exit the vehicle, walking briskly to meet up with my past. My present. My future.

Wilson, NC

The two women at across from each other at the dining room table; their dinner plates were before them: Cornish hen, mashed potatoes drenched in giblet gravy, dressing, and buttered green peas. Two dessert plates in the middle of the table held slices of pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.

Ella Fitzgerald sang softly from a vintage phonograph player.

A beautiful cherrywood Dutch cabinet with paned windows lined one wall of the room; inside was fine china and glassware on the lower shelves. The top two ledges held photographs: wedding photos; baby pictures; group photos of military units; people long dead, their faces forever captured in laughter and smiles at parties and picnics.

Alice Cooper was saying the prayer, her lips moving slowly against the sides of her hands which were pressed close to her mouth. Her thin blonde hair lay in limp curls against her wrinkled cheeks.

“Dear Lord, thank You for another day filled with small mercies and bigger blessings. Amen.”

She opened her pale blue eyes, clouded over with cataracts, to see her oldest, and best friend Anna Horowitz slicing into her hen. Anna was short to Alice’s tall, and stout to her friend’s skinny. Anna’s hair was steel gray and pulled back in a severe bun. Her still-dark eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as she cut.

Alice’s gaze went from Anna to her own dinner plate, then to the slices of pie. “I think I want pie first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alice! Eat your supper, then you can have dessert.”

“Land’s sake, Anna! It’s Thanksgiving! It’s all about the pie!”

“Turkey,” Anna corrected as she dragged her fork through the potatoes.

“Does it look like we’re eating turkey?”

“The Macy’s parade was lovely, don’t you think?” Anna changed the subject, covertly watching Alice finally begin eating her dinner.

“It used to be so much better, it’s way too modern now but the singing tree was nice.”

The two women had been friends for over 70 years, having first met in the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps in 1954. Despite their advanced age of 93, the two women were still extremely active: working two days a week at the Wilson County American Legion office, gardening, participating in a senior exercise class at the local YMCA, church, and meandering around the local flea markets and thrift shops.

They had been roommates for the past 15 years, when Anna’s husband died. To avoid infighting amongst her children, who Anna freely admitted were hooligans, she sold her brick ranch house and divided the proceeds equally between her and her offspring; what furniture no one wanted was donated. Anna then moved into the four bedroom, 3 bath Victorian with bay windows and wraparound porch with Alice and changed her phone number.

Alice had no children; she had been widowed at the age of 40. She never remarried, choosing to stay in the house she and her husband had purchased with dreams of raising a family and throwing dinner parties in mind.

Until the Vietnam War.

Until high-ranking Army officials knocked on her door, their expressions grim.

“This hen is tasty,” Anna complimented.

“I was worried because I didn’t have enough rosemary.”

“It’s perfect!” Anna reassured as she took another bite. “We need to start planning what we’re going to do for our 100th birthday.”

Alice placed her fork carefully on her plate. “You’ve lost mind! That’s still a long ways out.”

“Seven years! We can do seven years, Alice We’ve done the hard part making it to 93! Hell, if we make it to 95, we can round up!”

Alice stared at the tablecloth for a few moments, her expression pensive. “I don’t know, Anna. It’s been a good life, a full life, but ever since Don was killed … it’s been a lonely one.”

Anna reached for her glass of sweet tea. “I know,” she commiserated.

She did know. Ever since her George had succumbed to cancer, life felt … incomplete. But the good Lord above kept waking her up every morning to fulfill a purpose she still didn’t know about.

Anna reached over, placing her palm atop the back of Alice’s hand; the women sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, tears rolling down their cheeks.

“Don’t forget I have the eye appointment on Monday,” Alice sobbed as they both dried their eyes.

“Me? Don’t YOU forget! They’re removing the cataracts from both eyes, right?”

Alice nodded as she ate peas. “When my eyes heal over, can we go to the beach? I’d like to sit on the sand and watch the ocean. Don loved the water so.”

Anna nodded gently, her expression soft. “That’d be nice.”

“Thank you.” Alice pushed her dinner away, reaching for dessert. “You know we have egg nog to go with the pie.”

“You didn’t eat all your dinner!” Anna chided.

“Sue me,” Alice retorted as she pulled a plate of pie towards her.

“Hold on, let me the get the nog!”

“Anna, are we lesbians?” Alice asked curiously when her friend bustled back into the dining room with a carton of egg nog and two fresh glasses.

Anna looked utterly confused. “What? NO!”

Alice poured a half-glass of the holiday dairy, mindful of her gastric issues.

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

Chicago, IL

Thanksgiving Eve slipped quietly, effortlessly into Thanksgiving Day as Evan Bacino led his guest down the darkened hallway towards the front door. He didn’t remember their name, there was no need to. His thick brown hair with red and blonde highlights bounced against the nape of his neck with every step he took.

He unlocked the only ingress/egress into his apartment and opened the door slightly; the blonde man stepped around him, his blue eyes searching Evan’s face briefly before extending his hand. The hand that not an hour before had been fisted around Evan’s cock before gripping wrinkled bedsheets in a room filled with moans and permeated with the fragrance of sex.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” the guest murmured as the two shook hands.

“Ditto,” Evan replied in a neutral tone. He didn’t want to give whoever this person was any ideas that he was interested in continuing even a conversation.

Despite his eagerness to be alone, Evan loitered in the open doorway after his visitor stepped into the hall, listening to footsteps move further and further away before closing the door and entering the living room. He turned on a standing lamp, watching as light spilt over furniture and flooring, illuminating an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and the day’s clothing littering the carpet.

Evan ignored the mess, instead walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window that afforded him an envious view of the Chicago skyline and Lake Michigan. He pressed his palms against the glass, his eyes watching the rain fall steadily from sky to ground. The weatherman said there was a chance the rain would turn to snow overnight; Evan didn’t doubt it.

He wondered if his visitor had an umbrella.

It was Thanksgiving Day and he had absolutely no plans, other than to stay indoors, off social media, and get mildly drunk. His parents had invited him to join them in Aspen for a weekend filled with catered food and winter sports, but he had begged off. The last thing he needed right now was his mother’s vapid and vacuous gossip about people neither of them knew, and watching his father ogle every woman under the age of 60.

His friends had asked Evan to join them for a Friendsgiving brunch. There were promises of eggnog pancakes, turkey sausage, and beef short ribs but Evan’s circle of friends was also Eduardo’s circle of friends. He wasn’t ready to see or talk about Eduardo just yet.

Three months was not enough time to heal from a five-year relationship.

Evan worked a half-day Wednesday, then ran errands: Liquor store for two bottles of chocolate cherry wine; bakery for two pies; KFC for a bucket of extra crispy chicken and two large mashed potatoes and gravy: community market for a box of Stove Top, cigarettes, and a 12-pack of Heineken. After arriving home and putting away his purchases, Evan fell across his bed and into a deep sleep.

Upon awakening, he was hungry for Chinese food, and had DoorDash deliver from his favorite place, Hunan House. He then decided he wanted a real drink, and after freshening up, Evan meandered down to the neighborhood bar, The Watering Hole. That’s where he met his hookup. He hadn’t left his house planning to bring someone home, but the drinks had been potent and the lure of the unknown enticing.

The sex hadn’t been satisfactory, due mostly to Evan’s emotional turmoil. He felt guilt, shame, and as if he were cheating on Eduardo. The man who had left him three months earlier to “explore and experience.” Eduardo never said what or with who.

Evan never asked; what was the point?

Before turning away from the window, Evan studied his nude reflection in the glass: tall, toned body with some muscle definition; skin that was more tanned than pale thanks to his mother’s Greek Cypriot heritage; thick, voluminous hair that was longish, but not overly so; his facial features were attractively arranged but Evan wouldn’t call himself handsome.

He frowned; his goatee needed trimming.

Later. He needed a shower.

He faced the room, hands on hips as he surveyed the disarray. The entire apartment needed cleaning; heartbreak was not conducive to domesticity.

Later. He needed sleep.

Evan awakened shortly after 9am, and by noon the apartment was tidy: ashtrays emptied, trash taken out, laundry done and fresh sheets on the bed, bathroom cleaned, dishes washed, and rooms vacuumed.

Afterwards, he showered; at 1pm, Evan was settled on his couch with a large plate of kung pao shrimp with fried rice and a cold bottle of brew.

Outside, thick flakes of snow swirled and fell from dark gray skies, coating the city’s surfaces with a thin blanket of white; inside, heat and computer-generated flames emanated from the wall-mounted electric fireplace.

It should have been normal: food, football, and beer on Thanksgiving Day. A cozy fire on a cold, messy afternoon. But it wasn’t. Evan was plagued with feelings of incompleteness and inadequacy; he was playing a role to an audience of none, and not very well.

Fucking Eduardo. Fucking love.

Evan channel surfed as he ate, settling on college football. When the station went to commercial break at the end of the first quarter, he headed to the kitchen for a more Chinese food, a piece of chicken, and another beer; the knock on his front door stopped him.

Who the hell could that be? he wondered as he cautiously approached the door, praying it wasn’t his friends coming to cheer him up.

Pity parties are solo affairs.

His stomach plummeted when he peered through the peephole. On the other side of the door stood a tall, lithe Brazilian man wearing an uncertain expression on his clean-shaven face. His navy-blue wool coat was buttoned to his throat, a Blackwatch plaid scarf draped his neck. Droplets of precipitation glistened in his dark, dark hair.

Eduardo!

Evan’s heartbeat accelerated; blood rushed through his body, causing a whooshing in his ears and a growing erection in his gray sweatpants. Relief, anger, disbelief washed over him, causing tears to burn in his eyes. He felt as if he were moving in slow motion as he unlocked the door before pulling it fully open.

The former lovers stared at each other, facial expressions filled with indecision, hope, regret.

“Hey, Evan,” Eduardo said softly before his gaze dropped to the floor.

Evan found it hard to breathe; everything he had prayed for and cried over the past 90 days was standing right in front of him, waiting to be welcomed with open arms, embraced tightly, and forgiven.

Evan’s stare went from Eduardo’s face to the rolling suitcase at his side.

Eduardo wanted to come back home.

Like nothing ever happened.

Except it had.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Evan slowly closed the door.

Eduardo’s frantic knocks covered the clicking of the locks.

Compton, CA

Thanksgiving Day in Compton is warm and sunny. Outside, the faint laughter and yells of children racing bicycles down cracked sidewalks and playing football in the streets drift through the closed windows of my kitchen; more than likely, they had been chased out of hot kitchens and crowded houses to let the grown-ups do what grown-ups do: cook, drink, cuss. The iconic palm trees lining my street sway under the touch of a light, balmy breeze.

It's 3pm, and my house is crowded with people despite the fact that dinner is at 5. My family arrived at 11am, carrying bags of ice and carryout food. That’s it. They set up camp in the family room, turned on the television, and proceeded to eat greasy wings, fried rice, and ketchup-drenched fries while taking advantage of my full cable package.

My husband’s family arrived at 2pm with egg nog, ice cream, pies, and my mother-in-law's tiresome rant about Compton being the biggest failure of the state’s housing authority. That led, as always, to an argument with my younger brother, Man-Man. She, her daughter Susan, and my brother-in-law Neil mingled for a few minutes before taking up residence in the living room, watching Food Network and day drinking.

Meanwhile, I’m struggling to remove a 22-pound turkey from an extremely hot oven, trying not to scream out loud from the lower back pain caused by the overdue baby in my belly, and dealing with my three-year-old son Noah tugging on my pant leg asking me to pwease help him.

I give up on the turkey and set it back on the rack before turning to my son. “What is it, sweetheart?” I ask in a voice filled with forced patience.; it isn’t his fault that there are seven useless, non-functioning adults in this house.

I roll my eyes when he says he wants my phone to play a game. Scary Teacher 3.

Dear God, give me strength.

“Honey, let me find my phone. Go get your Uncle Monty for me while I do that.”

He nods, his dark curls bobbing as he scampers out of the kitchen to find my brother Lamont. Meanwhile, my eyes dart around the room quickly, a growing panic inside me. With the massive quantities of food that I had cooked, and still needed to cook, my phone had been the last thing on my mind. Earlier, I set it down … somewhere. But where?

I wonder if I stuffed it in the cavity of the turkey.

I’m distracted from my search by my sister loudly arguing with Neil about someone named Kyle being a fraud and that something called fire dragon crab rangoon casserole was nothing more than imitation crab meat, Philly cream cheese, and hot sauce. I’m so busy trying to make their conversation make sense, I neither see nor hear my brother join me.

“What you need, Sandra?” Lamont asks in a bored tone.

I jump slightly but recover quickly. “I need to find my phone, the turkey needs to come out, the ham needs to go in,” I say as I sit in one of the kitchen chairs. “And I’m thirsty,” I add as I mop the perspiration from my brow.

He shakes his head as he busies himself: the refrigerator door opens and closes before a cool bottle of water appears before me, the cap loosened; he grunts as he hefts the roasting pan from the oven, the metal clatters against the stovetop; he lifts the lid on the pot of collards, giving the greens a stir before cutting the flame down low. My phone slides across the crowded table, just in time for Noah to see it as he enters the room.

His little hands reach and grab, but I hold it out of his reach, trying to see if I’ve missed any calls or texts. “Baste the ham before putting it in, please,” I mumble as I guzzle more water.

“Lawd, woman! You tryna work me to the bone,” Lamont complains.

I pay him no attention; he didn’t have to buy the groceries; he doesn’t have to cook the food. We’re using paper products, plastic utensils, and solo cups; minimal clean-up. All the others have to do is eat, take out the trash, and help put up the Christmas tree.

Easy peasy.

“MOMMY!” Noah wails impatiently.

“What, little boy?” I huff playfully before surrendering my phone. “Hey, babe … you hungry?” I ask, trying to recall the last time I fed my child.

He shakes his head, eyes glued to the screen. “No. Gamma gave me chicken and fwies.”

Lamont shuts the oven door. “Anything else?”

I think over what’s left to do: macaroni and cheese, which is already prepped. It just needs a thorough heating. Stuffing: it’s boxed. so that makes life easy. Biscuits: thank you, Pillsbury Doughboy. Mushrooms: already prepped, just needs heating.

I shake my head. “Nope. Thanks.”

The plan now is for Noah and me to head upstairs for an hour nap … we’ve both been up since 6am …but I neglected to look at the time. The whoops from my family members, coupled with the off-key singing of Bad Boys, the theme from Cops, tell me my husband is home from work. His deep, deep voice literally booms throughout the rooms as he greets his family and in-laws.

My son practically throws my phone at me before he rushes into his father’s arms. Once securely hoisted onto his daddy’s hip, Noah smirks smugly at his cousins who are pulling excitedly on their uncle’s pant legs.

Through the mayhem, my eyes meet my husband’s, and he winks at me with a wide grin on his face. The man I married is tall … very tall. His shoulders and chest are broad and sculpted. There are dimples in his cheeks. He is an officer with the LAPD.

He is unfortunately named: Scott Peterson. He tells strangers that his name is Harry.

And he’s white.

It hasn’t been easy being an interracial couple in Compton. I was born and raised here but marrying a white cop has called my blackness into question with my family, my friends, my very community. I think it has more to do with him being a cop than his race.

Scott grew up in Los Angeles proper; his childhood was more affluent than privileged until his father went to prison for insider trading. His mother, as WASPy and Karenesque as her personality suggests, gave up bridge clubs and martini lunches to re-enter the workforce. I wouldn’t call her racist; I see her as more of a bigot. An elitist bigot.

When we bought our home six years ago, his mother told Scott she was extremely disappointed in him.

He responded he was through trying to impress dead folks and racists.

With wide eyes and a horrified expression, she clarified she was referring to him living in Compton. Who lived in Compton?

Pulling me closer to him, he asked her who could afford LA nowadays? Hell, she didn’t even live there any longer. And judging by Compton’s growing and diverse population, a lot of people did indeed live in Compton.

But we’ve survived and are more in love than ever. Scott and I are a working-class couple; I’m a teacher at the local preparatory school. We’re happy, and family gatherings have become louder and more boisterous in the best way possible.

After promising to play with the children after dinner and advising Man-Man what to do about his upcoming case in traffic court, one of the suggestions being do NOT wear orange as it may give the judge ideas, Scott is finally making his way to me. He pulls me to him, planting an eager and lingering kiss on my lips; when we part, we walk into the kitchen together so I can show off what I’ve accomplished.

He admires the spread and insists that he’ll take over so I can get some rest before dinner.

“No!” I yell quietly. “Your mom is here; MY mom is here. Our sisters are here. Our BROTHERS are here! You’ve worked all day!”

He’s rummaging in the utensil drawer; it’s a hot mess that I keep meaning to organize. He closes it when he finds a fork, which he dips into the pot of collards. “We’re the hosts,” he explains as he tastes the greens; he noisily smacks his lips to express his satisfaction.

“We’re always the hosts!” I retort. “And they are not guests!”

He pulls me into the closest embrace he can manage with my belly extending from here to the I-10. “You’re tired. You’ve done a lot of work today. You know my mom can’t fix anything other than salad kits and Stouffer’s. Your mom loves her fatback a little too much for me.”

I giggle. “Remember the Thanksgiving she shoved a slab of it inside the turkey?”

“That’s when you said we would be the hosts of Thanksgiving!”

“Fine,” I grumble, pretending to still be disgruntled.

“Come on, let’s get you to the bedroom.”

We don’t make it.

There’s a sharp pain in my lower back that spreads around to my belly, and my water breaks.

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In case you’re interested: @athena-anna-rose

#dcbbw writes #original fiction #THANKSGIVING FIC #writeblr #writers of tumblr

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starlit-dreaming · 1 year

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[ch2] it was only one night

Rating: E Ship: Lucathy (main), Calena (side), Felily (mention) TL;DR: Modern Setting + Lawyer Athy + IT Expert Lucas + Unplanned Pregnancy from a One-Night Stand Note: crossposted to Wattpad under the same name; crossposted to AO3 under Starlit_Dreaming

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big shout out to @lithi and @hwang-lucas for being the best of friends to inspire the creation of this fic and its continuation by fuelling the lucathy flames and being fantastic buddies.

note: i barely edited the explicit scene, but there should be a lot of things different about this compared to the drafts

EY YO THIS CHAPTER’S EXPLICIT THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING TO LOOK AWAY CAUSE IM NOT GONNA CENSOR SHIT

athanasia and lucas are both consenting adults that are both using alcohol as an excuse. if that ain’t your jam then y’all shouldn’tve continued reading a fic thats been advertised as a one night stand au for the longest time

my works are always posted to tumblr first, ao3 second (sometimes swapped with tumblr), and wattpad third.

Summary: There are three things in this world that Athanasia truly regrets. 1. Being kind to Jennette Margarita, her cousin. 2. Giving Ijekiel Alpheus her many firsts. 3. Having a one-night stand with her co-worker and friend, Lucas Hwang. (And if she doesn’t regret sleeping with him, waking up in his bed, and wearing his clothes, then that’s just something she’ll keep to herself.) // In which Athanasia and Lucas fall in love, get married, have a child, and get their shit together by reconnecting with their respective families. Possibly in that exact order… or not.

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ii. passion [EXPLICIT]

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To start off with — despite the fact that The Lovely Success sounded like a title for a cringy romance novel or one of those published self-help books about how having self-confidence was the key to success, it was actually the name of an international law firm with multiple branches in different parts of the world. It was highly reputable, and the majority of the clients she'll end up meeting are in the upper class. Some snooty or entitled customers, but many polite and the slightest bit nosy — ignoring the annoying customers who flirt with her.

So, it stands to reason that for their company's holiday parties, it would require men in stiff suits and women dressed up in fancy-looking dresses. There was alcohol and champagne and treats on a buffet table, and some people who danced informally to the music.

However, because it was a company party composed of her co-workers and their partners, with a few outside businesspeople, the quality was nothing reminiscent of her days as an heiress as it was more informal. Admittedly, it did remind her too much of when she still lived with her family, but it was different enough for her to feel comfortable with the idea of attending.

Not that she'd be able to get out of it easily. There's either going to be networking opportunities or none at all, and for Athanasia, it tends to be the latter.

On her first end-of-the-year company party at the law firm, she somehow ended up drifting over to Lucas and befriending him, so it wasn't all for naught. They were aware of the other's existence, and had spoken on a few occasions as Lucas often had to fix the crummy company computers in her parts of the building.

They both mutually benefited in hanging out together that night — Lucas repelled the single men who tried to flirt with Athanasia with only an uncaring glance that intimidated them, and Athanasia ended up warding off the women who were pining for Lucas just by being the prettiest person in the law firm standing at his side with a thin smile. It was the start of a misunderstanding among their co-workers, who started to think that she and Lucas were romantically involved, but the two of them still didn't confirm or deny the rumours and simply ignored the question to this very day.

And why would they? It helped them, so there was never any reason to clear it up. For Lucas, it reduced his ever-growing headache when the majority of his co-workers stopped trying to flirt with him while on the job. For Athanasia, it lowered the number of flowers from secret admirers that she would find in her office, as well as put a halt to the rumours about her leading people just because she smiled at someone that day. Neither outright lied, but they didn't insinuate a damn thing. It was just too convenient, and they both knew it benefited the two of them.

Suffice to say, after that first party, it seemed like a given for her to stick with Lucas. They'd always sit at the same table with Cabel, since they both decided to start eating together in their shared camaraderie, and later, with Helena joining them after she graduates from law school a year after.

There was no reason for their unspoken routine to change when their third end-of-the-year company party came around.

It was supposed to be the same as usual.

But then everything changed.

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(She remembers everything about that night with startling clarity.

And why wouldn't she, when she looked at the photos Lillian had sent her? Photos of Lillian's smile, of the pretty blue engagement ring that was now on her former nanny's finger, of the bouquet Lillian was thinking of making for her upcoming wedding.

And how could she not? When she remembers watching Cabel stand on one of his knees as if he was proposing — which he wasn't — holding Helena's hand as he dramatically asked her for a dance. Remembers how she would wistfully watch as Helena giggles with a bright and happy smile, leaving the table and going to the dance with their hands intertwined. She remembers that envy, making her feel just the tiniest bit of guilt at the happy couple's sweet moment.

And if only she could stop thinking of it all. How one glass of cheap-tasting and horrible champagne doubles and triples throughout the night. And how she'll mope and sulk at the table with Lucas, who stays by her side, talking to her lest she keeps reaching out for more champagne. And how she would be relieved, knowing that her cheeks were red from the alcohol and not because of her fluttering heart. How she vividly remembers vermilion eyes staring into her eyes, and how he takes her breath away, how she felt so incredibly warm and pleasant in his arms, how he held her in a tender embrace that her heart aches. How attractive he was, when he loomed over her, their bodies pressing closer and closer together with skin touching skin—

Ahem.

Suffice to say, she remembers that night very clearly.

Not that she'll admit it.)

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Athanasia never really cares to remember much of the start when it came to parties. It was the same as previous years, in which a semi-mandatory Christmas party was held. For the most part, the people who first started this party had it with the intention of making it one of those matchmaking parties for singles. Now, it was just an excuse for a party and to gossip and matchmake whoever was single. Or unmarried; that was an important distinction. Granted, married couples still attend to show off their spouses.

As per tradition, she was seated at a table, sitting between Lucas and Helena. She arrived with Lucas, to fuel the implications and because it was easier for her to catch an Uber with him than for both of them to drive when they're going to be drinking tonight. After all, the alcohol will make this whole headache of a party be much more bearable. Worse comes to worst, she'll just crash on his couch if neither of them are sober enough to get an Uber for her. She's done it before — hell, everyone in their friend group always crashed at Lucas's place after having one too many drinks.

Absent-mindedly, she takes a sip of her glass of cheap champagne — it was disgusting since the day she first tried it, but time helped her adapt to the taste. At least it was a better brand this time, still bitter, a little too dry, but better — scrolling through the pictures Lillian had texted her. She was already pumped about the engagement since she knew Felix would propose the day before the Christmas party, and she was happy for Lillian. The wedding ring was a custom-made ring with a sparkling silver band, with little light blue gems shaped in a flower that matched Lillian's pretty blue eyes.

Athanasia had to help Felix with picking out the ring, since he had no eye for jewellery, but he was the one who noticed the blue gemstones on another piece of jewellery. He had the ring custom-made and ordered it the previous year — nerves got to him, but he did end up proposing eventually.

Oh, that was pretty, Athanasia thought, looking at the flower arrangements Lillian made at her family's flower shop. The bouquet was composed of soft blue and white flowers, with a bit of light silvery grey. Lillian was definitely going all out with their eye colours as a wedding colour theme, and Athanasia definitely agrees.

She finishes her drink before she gets a new glass of champagne as a waitress passes by.

A giggle is heard, light and familiar and obviously Helena's. Athanasia glances up from her phone with a flicker of her eyes, watching Cabel holding Helena's hand with a flourish. Like a nobleman holding a noblewoman's hand, he presses a kiss to the back of her hand, flashing Helena a charming smile.

"May I have this dance, my dear?" Cabel grinned, knowing full well what his girlfriend's answer was going to be.

"Of course," Helena giggled as he stood up, guiding her to stand up as well before he whisked her off to the dance floor.

It was a very strange sight to see Helena be so overjoyed with dancing. In fact, when they were younger, Helena confided in Athanasia that she dreaded going to any sort of party where she was expected to dance at least once. Her mother would often try to push boys their age onto Helena, as if trying to play matchmaker, and all of her friends were scrutinized and valued based on their family's worth.

Granted, it did help Helena form connections with their peers, and some of them did end up meeting Athanasia when she went on blind dates, but at least Helena didn't outright expect sparks to happen.

Helena smiled wide as she and Cabel danced.

She was sure Lucas had probably gagged over how lovey-dovey the two of them were being, but Athanasia couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

Having a partner was always nice, but it was always a strange thought, knowing that she would've been married by now if her life didn't take a turn in her university days. Of course, she never thought of herself as a housewife, so she wanted a partner that wouldn't hate the fact that she would be the possible breadwinner of the household.

Maybe she'll end up alone? She could adopt a dog or two...

Athanasia sips on her glass, blinking when she realizes that she finished yet another glass. This time, she gets another glass of champagne from a waiter.

Lucas slowly takes a sip from his own glass as he eyed the two empty glasses in front of Athanasia. He frowns, seeming irritated as he heaved a heavy sigh. She very clearly noticed how much his eyes narrowed as if something was bothering him.

'What's his problem?' Athanasia thought sullenly as she downed another glass.

"Alright," Lucas grumbled before diving straight to his point as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "Out with it. What's eating you up inside?"

"Well, you don't have to be so rude about it," she grumbled. "What are you even talking about?"

"Seriously. I thought you hated champagne," he stated as she was halfway finished with her third glass.

"Ugh. Let me wallow and drown in my loneliness," she groaned, slumping in her seat as she pouted like a petulant child. "If you must know, I'm going to die as a crazy old cat lady, Luke."

Lucas stared at her blankly before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Meanwhile, Athanasia opened her purse, taking out the container for her coloured eye contacts. She takes out her eye contacts; blue jewelled eyes were now showing as she took out the rose pink contacts. Even though she was still feeling incredibly sober — it took more champagne than two and a half glasses' worth to make her tipsy, let alone drunk — she was always an emotional person when she had alcohol. She sniffed, starting to feel the full brunt of her feelings. Plus, almost everyone were starting to get a little too tipsy to care about appearances, or they already knew who her birth father was.

Lucas grumbled before reluctantly rubbing her back in an awkward attempt at a comforting gesture. "I'm sure that everything's... okay."

"Everything's not okay," eyes tearing up as she downed the rest of her champagne, she had answered in a wobbly voice. She knows that she'll feel embarrassed about blubbering over everything at Lucas again, but it isn't the first time, nor was it going to be the last time it happens. She really should stop drinking the champagne, but in her defense, it was free. "I'll end up old and alone with an army of cats."

"Why are you like—" Lucas started off with a disgruntled look before taking a deep breath. With a calm and flat voice, he starts over, "You can be crazy sometimes, but why do you think you're going to end up all alone? And why cats? I thought you loved dogs more."

"Helena was the only one willing to marry me, but now she's with Cabel, and I'm happy for them, but now I'm stuck watching them be lovey-dovey while I'm still single."

She and Helena always joked about being the other's fiancée, but in a way it was still accurate. After going through a rough breakup with Ijekiel, Helena assured her that she'll find someone better, and if not then Helena herself would marry her if either of them remained single by their 30th birthday. Athanasia wasn't in any rush to get married, especially since she was focused on her career, but the what-ifs plagued her.

(Plus, Helena only made the offer because she was always down for ruining her parent's expectations of her when it came to marriage. Apparently they only approved of Cabel because of his family, but Cabel was an absolute menace when they were younger, and Helena's parents remembered that very clearly. They don't approve of them living together as an unmarried couple, however.

Not that Helena cared, of course. She was the one who insisted they moved in together.)

"You do realize that I'm their friend, too. I have to deal with their lovey-dovey shit, so why do you think you're alone here?" Lucas dryly asked. He knew better than to ask about the other details like, for example, being a cat lady.

Athanasia paid him no mind, lost in her own thoughts.

What if she was 30, and still single? It wouldn't be a big deal, but she was just tired of always being alone. She wanted to get married, she wanted to find a partner to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted this, and that, and everything else that she feels is too much out of her hands.

"I'm only 27," Athanasia slouched over the table, twirling her glass of champagne before taking another sip and sighing. "What if I do find a guy, and we end up getting a divorce? I know Helena will always be there to represent me in a divorce court case, but what if we end up going to court fighting over the custody of our dog?!" She looked at Lucas with teary eyes. "Kids are common in custody battles, but not pets! What if I never get custody of our dog and I get so distraught that I have to resort to adopting cats because of the painful memories of losing the custody battle?! Not only would I have wasted years on a failed marriage, but I'd be losing my dog!"

He stared at her, an incredulous look on as he stared at her, thinking, why is she like this? What exactly was he even supposed to say to that? Was she having an existential crisis again? Is this what her existential crisis is supposed to look like? Why does this happen to him? He's a good person, he's beautiful, he's the best in his job field, so why does he have to deal with something as troublesome as this?

"You're kidding me."

"It's happened. Ask Helena — she had a case where a financially stable couple, amicable towards each other and agreeing on a 50-50 split of their assets, got into an argument of custody over their dog," she looked at him with wide, horrified eyes. "What if that's going to happen to me?! I don't want to be one of those crazy people in Helena's cases! People are crazy from beginning to end or they're crazy about one specific thing. I don't want to be one of them, refusing to accept any kind of agreement to the point that I end up going to court over whatever!"

"I think," Lucas slowly said, eyeing her warily, "that you're the one that needs to go outside more."

"Lucas!"

"Athena," he sighed. "Look, you're not going to be alone. I'm here too, I'm not in a relationship, so you don't have to worry if you think every couple will leave you by yourself."

"That's even worse!" she cried, propping her elbows on the table as she buried her face into the palm of her hands. "I'm gonna end up all alone with you. It's just not possible! You like cats more than dogs. And yeah, sure, cats are cute, but dogs. That's a dealbreaker, Luke — we're incompatible!"

"Gosh, I'm a sensitive guy, you know, that sort of statement kind of hurts my feelings," Lucas blandly states.

Well, it didn't actually hurt, rather he found her comment to be rude. Had she been someone else, he would've said something ominous or slightly threatening for insinuating that he wouldn't be a good partner.

Instead, he watches her cheeks flush pink as she finishes off the rest of her third glass before getting a fourth one. "Also, I never said anything about liking cats more than dogs — I don't have a preference, so don't worry. Feel free to form an army of dogs instead of cats," he shook his head, sipping the remainder of his champagne.

"Really?" she brightened up, looking at Lucas with watery eyes. "You would still be with me even after I get a bunch of dogs and be a crazy dog lady?"

"Yeah, sure," he rolls his eyes. "I support you."

Hopefully, she didn't actually take that seriously, he would later think. He didn't want to imagine her getting god knows how many dogs in a fit of insanity.

She had to have known he wasn't serious, right?

. . .

Hopefully.

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(And, she'll later recall, looking back on all of this, that it was hard to forget that at the end of the day she was Athanasia de Alger Obelia. It wasn't a secret that she was the former heiress of her father's business, but it was easy to pretend she was someone else entirely the moment she left home and changed her surname to her mother's.

There were plenty of blondes named Athanasia out there in the world, some with different spell variations or similar sounding names like Anastasia. Probably with blue eyes, too, if they didn't notice the jewelled part of her blue eyes, but it was an easy fix with coloured contacts and her mother's maiden name.

Lily, Felix, and Helena constantly reminded her of that past, that Athanasia Lebedeva was considered the unloved daughter, that she would still be connected to her father.

It was never malicious, of course, but it always weighed down on her, knowing how much they knew.

But Lucas didn't. He didn't even care about who she was.

Maybe that was why she...)

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And it's after her mini sob fest that things start to feel a little hazy.

She justifies every word and action as something done because of the alcohol that was running through her veins. Athanasia has never actually gotten drunk off of champagne, and all champagne ever does for her is make her head float as if she's on cloud nine, but when it comes to herself, Athanasia isn't a very honest person.

Lucas is more aware than she was, she's pretty sure, but the alcohol's making him grin more, and she's giggling and happy and bright. She's not an alcoholic, but she can understand why people would willingly drink and drink and drink.

They don't even realize that Cabel and Helena had already gone home for the night, not until they decided to leave. It was 10PM, only two hours after the party started, when Lucas says that he'd rather go home than stay any longer than what he was obligated to, and Athanasia agreed with the sentiment. He was only sticking around her to help keep their so-called relationship image to their co-workers, she reasoned.

She's had one too many drinks, and since their respective best friend ditched them, he was just being a good friend by being there for her, she reasoned. So that's why he lets her lean into his side, with an arm wrapped around her shoulder to hold her steady. Because she's just the slightest bit on the side of being too tipsy to walk straight.

So, she's honest when she's had one too many drinks. Her footsteps are unsteady, she gets more emotional than she'd like to be, and she relearns a fact that she's ignored for years: she's still lonely.

She feels it deep in her bones, stuck in a place of aching honesty.

She's lonely.

"I don't want to go back to my apartment," the words slip out as they wait in the elevator, waiting together, alone and just the two of them.

"I don't want to be alone again," her whispers roared in her mind, and her eyelids would flutter shut, focusing on the warm and comforting weight of his hand wrapped around her shoulder.

"That place just doesn't feel like a home," and she's not sure if she's talking about her crummy apartment or her father's estate. Maybe it's both.

"There's no one waiting for me there." Silence.

She feels the hand squeeze her shoulder, a light pressure, a reminder that there's a hand there, or rather, that he's still with her.

(Athanasia wonders if Lucas ever realized how much that minor gesture meant to her at that moment.)

"What do you want to do, then?" Lucas eventually asks, when she finally looks up at him. Sapphire blue meeting cinnabar red. "You're always welcome to stay with me tonight."

A pause.

And suddenly, there's an implication there, an unspoken question that she did not intend to happen.

And, Athanasia would reason to herself for the sake of preserving their friendship and keeping things Not weird, that it's just the alcohol that made her feel turned on by the implications. That her loneliness amplified a desire to fall asleep beside someone who'll keep her company.

"If that's what you want," Lucas eventually said as if it were an afterthought, staring into her eyes. It felt as if his eyes, his beautiful, unwavering eyes, were searching for something in her eyes.

(She doesn't know if he ever found what he was looking for.)

All she says is, "I do."

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Athanasia would like to state that for the record, she is not normally carried away when she's tipsy.

Or at least, that's how she justified her actions. They were both sitting in the back of an Uber driver's car, and something about sitting next to each other just seemed to... spark something. She's not sure what it was, attraction, yeah, maybe something like lust — she's no stranger to hookups, but it's a first for it to involve one of her co-workers.

Something inexplicable sparks the moment their eyes meet in the backseat, because Lucas is staring at her, and she's looking back at him. Their fingers were interlocked, and they gravitated towards each other.

Maybe there was something between them all along, or perhaps it was a feeling spurred on from the champagne.

Perhaps both.

Their friendship is on the line here, but they both have an excuse of being drunk, with the alcohol thrumming through their veins. It makes them float, inclines them to do something more. They won't have to address any awkward feelings or confront anything personal in the morning.

All that matters for now is that they want to make a mistake.

(And a mistake they will commit.)

They do end up kissing in that same backseat. Her hands were loosely wrapped around his neck as Lucas ran one of his hands through her hair, effectively undoing the hair bun she had for the occasion, as he placed his other hand around her waist. She felt so warm, and she wanted more, more, more.

It wasn't a chaste kiss.

Their kiss leaves her with swollen lips, a face flushed red, and with burning lungs. She pulled away to breathe, and when she breathed, it was the first time in years that she'd felt so much more alive — she could taste the champagne that they both had, still felt the feeling of his tongue against hers.

She doesn't think about their friendship, about the possible consequences of the two of them doing this, nor does she think of the fact that they weren't supposed to be doing this.

(The thrill of being intimate with Lucas would be worth that risk, she thought.)

Instead of their friendship, she thinks about his eyes — molten cinnabar trapped in an intense stare, for her and only her at this very moment. Instead of their friendship, she thinks about how pretty he looks with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes. Instead of their friendship, she thinks about the way his voice sounds, the way it lowers with a raspy tone as he whispers 'Athy' and how pleasant it feels for him to say her nickname like that.

And instead of their friendship, she thinks about the way he feels, his lips on hers, the way their fingers intertwined, the weight of his hand around her waist, or the comfort of his fingers that were now running through her hair.

Because instead of their friendship, all she can think about is wanting more, more, more.

So she makes her move, her fingers wrapping around his tie to pull his lips back down to meet hers in a rough rush. It's hot, it's breathier than the kiss before, it's heavy with unspoken promises, and still, it doesn't feel enough. And it's this time that Lucas is the one to pull away for air, and he stares at her with half-lidded eyes.

He looks at her as if he wants her and no one else, as if he wants more than just a bruising kiss to remember this night by.

And... she knows that she wants more, too.

Her heart is bursting, pounding hard the longer she stares into Lucas's eyes in the back of a stranger's car, as they're undoubtedly breaking seatbelt laws. And Lucas's hand creeps up the skirt of her dress, a warm hand resting on her thigh as he leans in close. It was enough to convey that it wasn't just her that wanted this, but also a reassurance that he could still back off at her say so.

Not that she would ever want him to.

"Let me have you," he mumbles into her ear, quiet for her to hear, before pulling back enough for him to look at her eyes. His other hand cups her cheek — feeling refreshingly cold against her burning skin. And as she looks into his half-lidded eyes, she finds herself effectively ensnared by his charming good looks that she often cursed.

"Okay," she breathes, thinking about how she wants his hand to crawl higher than just her thigh right now. She didn't care about the what-ifs or what-happens-next. The only thing on her mind is his touch, his kiss, his stare focused on her and nothing else.

"Okay?" he echoes with a teasing smirk, his lips so close to hers that it feels almost torturous.

She frowns.

Again, her hand yanks on his tie for another abrupt kiss.

However, Lucas has the gall to huff in amusement as he turns his head slightly, causing her to kiss his cheek instead as if he predicted that from her. And he gives her a teasing smirk when she puffs up her cheeks at him for avoiding the kiss. And instead of saying anything else, he simply grins at her unspoken frustration, his hand holding a lock of her hair, bringing it up to his lips. Her hair was loose and messy from their make-out session.

It's only when their Uber driver states, "We're here," with relief in their voice as the car reaches to a halt, that she realizes that this must've been the reason why Lucas put an abrupt pause to their backseat kissing.

(It's only later, when she thinks back on this moment, that she'd like to profusely apologize to the Uber driver.)

Athanasia no longer feels tipsy enough to need help with standing and walking, but their impromptu make out session does give her slightly weak knees. Lucas still uses her being "tipsy" as an excuse to hold her in a princess carry to his apartment.

And despite her initial protests, she doesn't actually mind it.

In fact, she never wants him to let go.

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Lucas drops her onto his bed, his hand reaching up to loosen his tie — it's a sight she's only seen in her guilty pleasure romance movies, a sight she's only fantasized about until now. He hovers above her which makes her heart leap, and there's something about the look in his eyes, something that makes her feel warm and fuzzy, and she thinks she's going to go crazy from how hard her heart beats.

There's an ache in her skin that makes her burn for so much more that it's beginning to feel unbearable. She wants him inside her, wants to feel him being rough against her, to scratch his back.

"I want to hear you scream my name, Athanasia," he whispers against her neck, his breath and the way he says her name causes a shiver to go down her spine. He chuckles at the reaction, seeming almost smug about it, too.

That was kind of annoying, she huffed.

He's lucky that he's cute.

"I'm not a screamer, Lucas," she cheekily states, and she's pretty sure that it's true. She'll gasp and pant and quietly moan, but she's never cried out, she's never screamed her partner's name before.

She kind of wants to scream tonight, though, and she thinks that if it's Lucas, he could succeed. If it's him, she might scream his name and cry when they twist and turn in ecstasy.

But she does want to wipe that smirk off his face. It would be tempting to stay quiet.

"Not for long," he murmurs, sounding awfully confident.

"Think you're up for the challenge?"

"It's a promise, Athy."

With her clothes off and undergarments remaining, she's feeling more exposed than she's ever been. Her panties and bra are black and lacy — a matching set she bought to make herself feel prettier and confident, and she feels incredibly relieved to know she wore the best pair of her underwear tonight.

She just didn't expect to feel so much more than that when Lucas sucks on her neck, his knee pressing up against her panties that she knows are getting soaked more and more and — oh god, she quietly moans.

And he swallows up her moans by kissing her lips, tongue pressing against tongue, and it leaves her breathless and aching, her eyes nearly tearing up as her hips press down against his knee. It's not enough friction for the throbbing need that she feels, the heat pooling below her stomach, and she clenches down on nothing as the ache only continues to grow relentless and insatiable. She's not normally reduced to tears, but Lucas has been hitting all the right spots since their night together started.

He starts to leave a trail of kisses, starting from her jaw back down to her neck where he leaves another hickey or two — it causes her to shiver and moan. Then a kiss to her breast trailing down to her hip, his body sliding down only to stop when he's eye level with her panties. And she removes the arm covering her eyes to look down at him, wondering why he stopped.

There's an insufferable smirk on his face that turns her on, but it also makes her want to punch it off.

Preferably both. Undoubtedly both.

"Well, now," Lucas seemed just about ready to tease, his hands brushing against her inner thigh, causing her to gulp from how sensitive her thighs were. As if he figured that out, his hand absentmindedly brushes her inner thigh back and forth with his index finger, slowly and almost torturous. Again, she clenches down on nothing. "I know I'm handsome, but I never would've thought that you would be this wet for me already."

"Ugh, will you just get a move on already, you insufferable—" As if anticipating her frustrated response, he presses his finger against her clit through her silk panties. The sudden sensation causes her to let out a startled squeak, there's a spark as he rubs against the bundle of nerves that causes her eyes to tear up more as she gulps and breathes, her hips arching up, grinding into that single finger through the thin, wet layer of her panties.

Just as she was about ready to snap at Lucas again, to demand that he stopped teasing her, the insufferable tease knew the perfect way to catch her off guard.

He tugs her panties off, leaning down to lock his mouth to her clit and suck. The unexpected force of it causes her to gasp loudly, back arching as she throws her head back against the bed, the balls of her feet pressing against his back. Two of his fingers slip into her, sliding in and out with ease as he leisurely stretches her open, and the relentless pace, the unwavering pressure that keeps building up more and more — it makes her melt and cry out as she bursts.

And for a minute, he just keeps going, drawing out the overwhelming pleasure as she cries from the overstimulation.

She can feel the smug curve of his lips against her body before he finally stops, giving her a moment to breathe.

"You're terrible. Absolutely terrible," she grumbles, shooting him a withering look.

"I thought I was doing pretty good with all those cute gasps," he states impishly, that smug grin still on his face. "Do I need to do something to redeem myself, your highness? Should I properly eat you out this time?"

That was not what she meant, and he knows it.

And right now, that's not what she wants from him, either. (At least, for now, anyway, the thought of him eating her out did sound good.)

"Just fuck me already!"

——————————

Lucas is the type of person who likes to take his time, she quickly learns.

He takes his time to explore her body, making her squirm and moan and gasp with every purposeful stroke in a way she's never known. She's known that he's always been the teasing sort of guy, but she only now realizes how that translates into the bedroom as he presses his teeth across her skin, only biting down when he hears the slightest stutter of breath coming from her lips just to hear her gasp and moan. His lips kiss her inner thighs, and she finds herself sighing and humming as he leaves behind love marks wherever he touches — the reddening marks easily hidden, but will undoubtedly be felt with every movement she makes.

And yet he still manages to tease her, the way his tongue licks and presses against her breasts, sucking on each nipple until they're pert and stiff while he fingers her open. It's the first time she's ever burned with a need for more. It's the first time her eyes tear up in years, and for her hips to still uncontrollably move.

It's the first time that she desperately wants to feel everything, to be touched and held and loved and, and—

And all she can think about is "Lucas, please, right there, more, oh god—"

When he sinks into her, his entire length inside her, he groans. It's a low and raspy tone of voice, and while she's heard him groan out complaints, heard him murmur her name in a low tone, this was different, this groan causes her to shiver with eager anticipation. And as he gives her a moment to adjust to that feeling of being full, he kisses her, soft and sweet enough that it could rot her teeth.

She whines at the feeling, feeling herself adjust to the very noticeable length inside her, planning to cover her face only for Lucas to stop her arm. And he kisses her, whispering against her lips, "Don't hide, I want to see your face." And it's quiet, paired with a softened gaze.

(She'll deny it in the aftermath, but these are the moments that she'll hope to repeat.

Her heartfelt light and full of affection.)

Athanasia begs him — without prompting — to move.

And he obliges, sliding in and out with ease. The second time he slides back in, she easily decides, was much better than the first. The third time was certainly a charm. And when he slams in on the fourth, she cries out, no longer judging the movements as long as he does it again, faster, harder.

And when he drives his hips forward, she trembles, losing herself in pleasure. And it gets even better when her legs widen, and he slams down against her, hitting the spot that makes her scream the loudest she's ever been. And Lucas, ever the man who pays attention to every little thing that he's done to draw out noises that she didn't even know that she could make until now, repeats that action and makes her writhe against his bedsheets and weep out pleas.

"Please, please, please— Lucas!"

She screams his name, in the end.

——————————

In the aftermath, when they're both finished, they just lay there together in each other's arms, cuddling. She was tired, she felt sticky and gross from the dried up sweat and the smell of sex in the air. Still, she could tell that they were both satisfied and content, and too exhausted to do much else.

Her cheeks burn red at the feeling of cum dripping out of her — she really ought to go shower and clean up, but she'll do that tomorrow. She'll need to buy a Plan B tomorrow, anyway. For now, she just wants to do nothing.

And as she lays in his bed, with his arms wrapped around her, she starts to doze off with her head tucked in the crook of his neck. His fingers ran through her hair, and she sighs, relaxing against his. She allows herself to indulge in this warm comfort, and she curls up against him with a smile.

They can worry about the world tomorrow, for all she cares.

That'll be a morning problem.

——————————

The first thing that registers in Athanasia's mind is that she doesn't want to get up.

When she awakens, she allows herself another indulgence, a fantasy, a what-if scenario. "What if we were actually together and hopelessly in love" type of scenario. It's not hard to imagine, with her naked in a big and comfortable bed that doesn't belong to her.

And it's just so easy, when lays at her side, propped up on one hand as the other hand runs through her hair, fingers twirling her hair.

There's a moment, where he caresses her cheek, and she'll reason with herself, that it's just on the spur of the moment, or that he's just sleepy when he pecks her lips. A chaste kiss that's softer than anything she's ever known.

As she lays in his arms, in his warm embrace, she wonders if she should pursue this.

Ultimately, she doesn't.

Not yet, anyway.

(But, to be honest, that is neither here nor there.)

——————————

She manages to take a shower without much of an issue. Her muscles are sore, her legs a tiny bit weak and wobbly, but she's warm and clean. The process was a pain in the ass — literally — but she can't say she regrets a damn thing. It was the best lay she's ever had, and Athanasia has been with other people.

When she leaves his bathroom, she's wearing a large clean shirt that makes her feel like a dwarf because Lucas was a jerk who just had to pick the biggest shirt for her to wear. He did have a small pair of shorts that he kept in storage with all the other stuff he hadn't worn since his high school days. So she at least won't be stuck in a shirt the whole night.

She could still smell his shampoo in her hair. Even though she adored her apple-scent shampoo and her flower soaps, Lucas at least had the same shampoo and soap brand as her. He had the standard stuff, but apart from that, he had a shelf of lotions in his room. Helena always lamented about how unfair it was that she hardly ever needed facial cleansers or face lotions to have such smooth skin. Athanasia wonders how much Helena would find a sort of kinship with Lucas after hearing of his vast collection.

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, they don't talk about last night.

She finds Lucas moving leisurely around his kitchen, the smell of warm eggs and bacon simmering in the kitchen. He was dressed in a loose t-shirt and a simple pair of black shorts.

Apart from him stopping and staring at her, with the way his eyes trailed up and down as he took in the sight of her, blatantly checking her out, everything felt simple and normal. It was nice, domestic, even, with just the two of them without their friends.

They're both clearly aware that there's something new between them, something that wasn't there prior to last night. They talk about anything, anything except for last night.

Granted, she almost smacked him when he didn't even try to hold back his snicker at the obvious limp in her steps. It's not her fault her hips and legs were sore!

Still, she finds out more about Lucas as they sit and eat together. They talk about their upcoming holiday plans. Lucas would be going to visit his grandmother for a week, since she's been nagging him about not seeing her much, about how he never visits. She knew that he has two brothers, but apparently he's the grandmother's favourite.

She tells him about her plans to celebrate Felix and Lillian's engagement with her bridesmaids, Hannah and Ces. As she excitedly tells him about being Lillian's bridesmaid, as her mother was originally supposed to be, there's a look in his eyes that she might consider to be... fond? Athanasia tries not to think too deeply about it.

Something does change between them, after that night. Because sometimes Lucas would twirl his fingers through her hair mid-conversation. Because sometimes Athanasia would hold his hand, and he would let her hold it without a single word or any sort of complaint. There were times when he would linger around her at work — he still did his work efficiently as possible, but he was more willing to talk. He'd ask questions, he'd stay around her for a fee extra minutes after he finished, ignoring calls until he decided to grace other departments with his presence.

They don't kiss, and that suits her just fine. It's clear that they're in this awkward in-between stage, that their feelings are mutual. She's fine with staying as friends for now, and he is, too. Eventually, she'd like to date him, but she's not sure how serious she wants them to be, because she's nearing thirty now, and she does want to have a family of her own one day, and Lucas doesn't give off the feeling of being a family man...

Still, she likes how different things are. It's in the little things — the lingering stares, the secretive smiles, and their brief touches.

It makes her heart flutter, and she doesn't know what to call this feeling.

. 'I regret nothing,' she ultimately thinks.

#fic: it was only one night #wmmap au #wynter writes #lucathy #lithium tag #ilyusha tag

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