#why did I bother making a whole packet to show to studios

[fablepaint]

I pitch professionally

#lackadaisy #why did I bother making a whole packet to show to studios #when I could just given them four panels and called it a day #this is the culmination of over a decade's worth of experience #professional animator #mordecai #mordecai heller #cat #anthro

[gogobootz1]

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Eddie Roundtree x Reader

Summary: Stress is starting to interfere with your sleep schedule. But a late-night encounter with a fellow member of The Six might just help you out.

A/N: It really bothers me that the show changed his last name, but I love this man so here you go

Word Count: 1k

The one thing you really couldn’t find yourself getting used to in LA was the heat. Dry, stifling, and never-ending, it made you miserable. After spending nearly your whole life in cold, dreary Pittsburgh, you were more than struggling to make the adjustment.

The cheap ass house Billy had rented didn’t help things, either. Among its flaws, the lack of air conditioning is at the top of your list. And it’s why you can’t seem to stop tossing and turning. No matter which limbs you stick out from under your blankets, it’s not enough to cool you down. The windows you opened two hours ago aren’t helping either. Growing tired of trying to sleep, you throw the covers off of yourself and sit up.

At the very least, some water should be able to help.

You huff and make your way downstairs, paying no mind to the time. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, you let the door swing shut. Once you’ve sipped on your tap water for a bit, you decide a snack might help too.

Still holding your cup in one hand, you start rummaging through the fridge with the other.

Leftovers were clearly out. As delicious as Camila’s lasagna was two nights ago, you didn’t want to bother heating anything up. Not to mention that Warren would probably want it for breakfast. Billy specifically said that the apples he bought were off-limits, but you aren’t necessarily opposed to pissing him off. You are, however, concerned about his taste. He probably got red delicious or Jonathan or something equally as gross, so you can't have that. Finally, you strike gold. The deli drawer. At least one Dunne brother has your back. Graham made a B-line for the deli counter on your grocery trip the other day.

You snag two slices of cheese out of the packet and start eating them while looking to see if the fridge has anything else to offer.

"Are you eating deli meat straight from the fridge at 2 AM?"

You whip around to find Eddie staring at you expectantly. For a second, you're like a deer in headlights. Caught red-handed, standing by the evidence. You swallow the final bite of cheese you were working on.

"No."

He makes a face that tells you he is not at all buying it.

"It was cheese," you mumble. Quietly, you continue, "why are you in here anyway, Edward?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe to see who was making all that noise?" He shrugs angrily. For the first time, you take note of his pajamas. The blue and green plaid really compliments the white Rolling Stones shirt he's got on. His hair's all tussled, probably because he was just sleeping.

"Shit, I woke you up, didn't I?" You whisper, internally kicking yourself. The fridge closes behind you as you take a seat at the kitchen table. You rest your head in your hands. "I'm really sorry, Eddie."

The sincerity in your voice takes him off guard. Typically your relationship is characterized by bickering and teasing and sticking your tongues out at each other like when you were little. This is a rare moment of vulnerability for you.

Eddie takes the seat across from you at the table. "What are you doing up in the first place?" He asks gently.

"I'm too hot," you complain.

"Sure are," he nods, and you kick him. "OW! Jesus, I was joking."

You sigh again, guiltily, "sorry."

"Cranky much," he rubs at his knee, "did you get any sleep at all?"

"No," you say miserably.

"Wait, are you serious?" Eddie asks, and you nod. "We were in the studio all day, and you stayed late to record the extra trombone part. Aren't you exhausted?" You nod once again. He lets out a sigh, "what's keeping you up then?"

"I already told you, Billy needs to fix the damn air conditioning," you grumble.

"And that's all?" Eddie sounds skeptical.

You sigh, "I don't know. It's just- a lot." He gives an encouraging nod, and you continue, "we're not in Pittsburgh anymore, and everything's new and different, and this is our shot, and if I blow it-"

"Woah there," Eddie stops you. "First of all, if anyone blows it, it'll be Graham for spilling something on someone important." That pulls a laugh out of you, and he smiles. "And I know things are different, but it's exciting too. If you ever feel homesick, though, we'll just drive around until we find someplace that reminds us of Eat'n Park. Okay?"

You nod softly at his words, and he stands up. You send him a questioning look.

"Come on," he says, "you've gotta get some sleep."

"Eddie, I've tried," you insist. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Then at least come sit on the couch," he pleads. You reluctantly follow him into the living room and plop yourself down on the sofa. "Close your eyes too. If they get any more bloodshot, people will think we're high all the time."

"Aren't we?" You ask, throwing your arm over your face. You don't see him shake his head at you while he grabs his guitar.

"Since you woke me up, you get to hear what I've been working on," Eddie says. He pushes your legs over so that he has room to sit.

"Lucky me," your voice drips with sarcasm. Eddie flicks your leg, and you flinch away. "Hey!"

"Watch it, sleeping beauty," he says.

"Or what?" You taunt.

"I'll tell Billy you broke the garbage disposal," he smirks. You bolt upright at his words.

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"How was I supposed to know I had to turn the water to use it?!"

Eddie stares at you, unimpressed.

"Never mind, Mozart, play on," you nod at him. Eddie starts strumming the guitar, and you sigh, laying back down.

The melody is slow and sweet, mesmerizing too. Your intentions of listening closely to offer feedback quickly slip out the window. Especially when he starts humming along. You don't even feel yourself starting to drift off. Your acute awareness of the temperature in the house, your dry mouth, or any residual hunger that haunted you earlier slips away.

Eddie goes on playing for a bit before he looks to you for your thoughts on it. When he finds you fast asleep, he sighs, "that good, huh?" He shakes his head with a smile on his face. Eddie stands and hangs the guitar back on the wall, retiring to his own room. He'll make you listen to it again in the morning.

#eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader

[okwritingandpain]

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da: The Beatles x Reader

Chapter 12

It had been a busy day by Y/N standards. John had showed her every inch of the museum and then some. His love and passion for music was nothing short of extraordinary. It made her smile knowing his passion was so genuine. She also had gotten the chance to meet his Aunt who had invited her to dinner the next day and she couldn't lie...she was nervous. John didn't seem like he wanted them to meet and Y/N wasn't sure it was good idea. They had known each other for a year, but most of that was through friendship, not love. It gave her a bad feeling, but she didn't want to be rude and cancel.

"You can do this!" She whispered to herself when she got home from the museum. Her nerves were creeping up on her. What could she do to calm her down. Music could calm her down. She went over to the piano and played a small tune before thinking of a song she enjoyed to play at home. While she didn't know the entire Queen song she couldn't help but play a part of it. She began to play Bohemian Rhapsody...or at least the part she knew.

"Mama, Just killed a man, put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead..." She sang softly. When she was younger, one of her favorite piano parts of a song was Bohemian Rhapsody. She decided to go out and learn a bit of it and now she never would have guessed she would be playing it in the 1960s. Yes, it was strange, but thrilling all the same. She tried her best to play quietly after what the Beatles did for her the year before. Her neighbors had been fussy about her music playing ever since. It bothered her to an extent as she now could practice at their studio instead. Playing into the night, it wasn't long after that she decided sleep would do her some good, especially if she was meeting John's family.

The next day, Y/N awoke to frantic knocking on the door. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the door.

"Y/N!" John banged louder on the door.

"Hold on! Hold on!" She yelled, unlocking the door. As the door unlocked John rushed in. "John, what's wrong?" 

"My aunt wanted me to pick you up for dinner." He fiddled with his suit jacket. Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. 

"It's like 6 in the morning." She narrowed her eyes. Joh nodded. 

"Exactly! That means I have all the time in the world to prepare you for the absolute monster my aunt is!" John sighed, walking over to the couch to sit down. 

"Why would you call your aunt a monster?" Y/N sat beside him, curiously.

"She's very strict and doesn't let me...how do I say it...be myself." John explained. Y/N patted his shoulder, getting up to go to the kitchen. She began to boil some hot water and grab a tea packet. 

"So, are you planning just to camp out here until we have to go?" She called from the kitchen. John groaned. 

"No, I'm going to live here. My aunt won't find me as long as I am here." He took his shoes off and laid on her couch. 

"You don't live with your aunt, do you?" Y/N asked, waiting for the tea to be done. 

"No of course not, but she knows where I live!" John groaned, shoving his face into the decorative pillows. Rolling her eyes, Y/N set the cup of tea on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

"Alright. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" She asked, looking down at him from where she stood. 

"Well..." he muttered, "You could let me live here." 

"Or I can come with you tonight and we will put on the best show for your aunt. Then you can go back to life as normal. Were not hiding from the police, John." Y/N explained, shaking her head in dismay. 

"It might as well be!" He spat, thinking about his aunt as he sulked on the couch. Pushing him off the couch and on to the ground, Y/N sat down. 

"Will you at least try my idea?" She asked, crossing her legs and glaring at him. He looked at her furiously.

"Fine." He mumbled, "But only because you will be there...and maybe the rest of the band." 

"Wait, what! Why didn't you tell me about this!" Y/N gasped. The whole band was going to be there? What if they found out about what she had told John's aunt? Some of that wasn't even true! What was she going to do? 

"I knew you wouldn't come if I told you." John cried into the floor. 

"I'm still coming...I'm just disappointed in you." Y/N muttered. 

"You're just like my aunt!" John yelled. She rolled her eyes again.

"John, please!" She hissed, standing up. He copied her action and followed her as she walked into the kitchen. 

"Like I said we should just hide here for the rest of our lives!" John explained. Well, that could definitely never happen. The inly good it would bring was that he would still be alive in the future. He wouldn't have a life at that point though.

"You know we can't do that." Y/N replied. They just had to bite the bullet. It was their best option whether they liked it or not. 

"I don't want to go..." John mumbled, turning around and noticing the piano. "Maybe a song will cheer us up." He strolled over to the piano. Playing a small warm up, John began to play "Please Please me"

"That's not a piano song." Y/M smirked walking over to watch beside him. 

"Any song can be a piano song." John replied, humming the melody. He sang a bit of it and Y/N listened beside him. It was slowly bringing a smile to both of their faces. She decided to sing parts of the chorus with him. Above all, she didn't want him to know that she already knew the song. It had already released, but she wanted to be safe and not sorry. 

"I like this one." She smiled after he finished playing. Leaning in, she gave him a hug. "It seems you were able to cheer me up." 

"I knew you would like that song...as you like all our songs." John smirked. 

"That might change some day." Y/N giggled. She could already think of some examples of songs she wasn't as fond of. 

"I doubt that." John remarked, playing a lively tune on the piano. "Are you going to play me a song?" Y/N blushed. What if she messed up in front of the John Lennon. 

"I don't know..." 

"I bet you're a natural." He stood up and motioned for her to sit down. Reluctantly she sat down and played little snippets of songs she knew. John listened with a big goofy grin on his face.

"I don't know a lot of songs..." She avoided his eye contact. 

"Well, I liked what you played." He smiled, trying to look into her eyes. "I thought it was lovely." 

"Lovely enough for you to take on your aunt?" She joked. 

"Well, I don't know if it worked that much..." The two laughed. The rest of their time consisted of reading and talking. It wasn't long before Y/N had to get ready to go have dinner with John's aunt.  

#paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison #george harrison x reader #john lennon #john lennon x reader #ringo starkey #ringo starkey x reader #ringo starr #ringo starr x reader #the beatles #beatles fic #fanfic #beatles fanfiction #beatles fandom #time travel #cross posted on ao3 #wattpad

[strrawberrii]

wildflower {four}

What happens when you start to fall out of love with your husband? What happens when that husband is Kim Namjoon?

pairing: idol husband Namjoon x reader

tag / warnings: none really, just minor mentions of alcohol and drinking

author note: thank you for the continued support!! <3

I wasn’t sure what was worse; living in a fever dream of a marriage or living in a silent one. Since the night Namjoon found out truly how I had been feeling and that I believed we no longer should be together anymore, our daily lives had started to shift and it really was starting to bother me in a way I wasn’t quite sure why. I still put Yumi’s needs before everything - stuck to my routine of cleaning, cooking and caring for my daughter practically alone - but now the days dragged on even longer than they ever had before and Namjoon would not talk to me.

It wasn’t that I’d overtly tried to talk to him either, but it was very clear that he was avoiding me at all costs. In the past month I’d maybe caught a glimpse of his face a handful of times but only in passing and it was making me uneasy which only bothered me more.

Wasn’t this exactly what I wanted?

Why did it suddenly feel like I was even more isolated than before?

The mornings were early and the nights were late and on the days where Namjoon couldn’t be at the label, the studio door was kept locked tightly shut with him hunkered down inside. He never came to bed after that confession and instead resolved to sleep either at one of the boys' places or in the studio if they forced him to go home. I only knew of that fact because, despite the ever growing abyss that was sucking me and my husband down into it, I still was on fairly good terms with the rest of the men in my life.

“You know,” Yoongi said after we’d just gotten coffee at our favorite spot. The cafe, Cafe Cache, was only known to those who had stumbled upon it. If you didn’t know it was there you never would have even seen it since it was tucked beneath an overhang of ivy, the faded green door blended in so smoothly it was as if it wasn’t even there at all. We’d stumbled upon it one day after Yoongi and I decided to try every coffee spot in town to decipher which pot would ultimately win and be dubbed the best. It had been a happy accident of myself tripping over a root in the tree blocking the front of the shop and stumbling into the worn in door. We’d been going there ever since his late debut days to the point the shopkeeper knew our orders by heart.

I had not been all that surprised to see Yoongi’s name pop up on my phone a few weeks into Namjoon’s late night charade and I begrudgingly answered despite the fact that I knew he was going to force me out of my cocoon of solitude to talk. “You really should just have an actual conversation with him.” He continued as we soaked up the warmth of the cafe. The bitter air outside was matching my attitude toward this entire conversation and the fact that Yoongi was making me face the very things I had been worried about facing was making it even worse.

“Been there, done that.” I rolled my eyes as I waved him off and Yoongi frowned at me in his signature pouty style. Despite Namjoon’s insistent need to keep everyone away from me, he’d always liked how close I was with some of the members of the group. I’d known them all for as long as I could remember since I’d been with Namjoon for just about longer than that. Particularly Yoongi and I had gotten the closest out of the bunch for his love of my homemade japchae during the later part of their trainee days when I would send some back to the dorm with Namjoon and for our sarcastic tendencies when around all the members. Because of our close relationship he knew he didn’t have to mince words with me, he could tell it to me straight and he, above all else, could be trusted to have my best interests at heart.

“You know what I mean.” He retorted back, never missing a beat. Yoongi could always be counted on to pull me out of my head and make me actually talk about things for a change. He was one of the people I held most dear in my life for so many reasons but mostly because, aside from what Namjoon used to be, he was my best friend. “Quit the cat and mouse game. Just go and talk to him. Really talk to him.” Being as blunt as ever, I couldn’t help but sigh at his response. I knew he was right and it pissed me off.

“Yoongi, I tried. Literally just that. And it didn’t work.” We found ourselves at the counter bar, mixing our drinks to their desired taste, and I immediately grabbed a handful of sugar packets, my ever growing sweet tooth taking over the better part of my brain. My hands were slightly shaking as Yoongi began to talk, sighing as he stirred a small amount of milk into his black coffee. It wasn’t that I didn’t want his advice but the more we talked about Namjoon the more I was starting to really lose it and could feel myself getting more and more frustrated at the situation I had created for myself.

It wasn’t as if my feelings had suddenly changed again and it wasn’t as if I was having a change of heart, but the more and more Namjoon avoided me the more and more lonely and frustrated I felt. If I thought him being away was bad, having him right down the hall was even worse. Especially when it was all radio silence; static that was making me go crazy.

“No, you both are being foolish and full of emotion. Be more pragmatic about the issue.” He paused to sip his coffee and to avoid my eyes as he continued. “You know, whatever that issue may be.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, as if this whole situation wasn’t making me completely feel like a dying star caving in on itself.

“Oh please,” Stirring the seventh packet of sugar into my cup, I couldn’t help but frown looking back down at my cream colored liquid. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what was said. I know he tells you just about everything.”

“Then,” He swatted my hand from grabbing the next packet of sugar and really looked at me. It was still odd and a little jarring to see him so genuinely interested in a topic that involved my love life to this day since most thought Yoongi was cold and calculated in every situation but that wasn’t necessarily the case. At least, not with the people he cared about. “You know that I’m right.”

I let out a sigh I didn’t know I had been holding as I contemplated his words. “Why can’t he come and talk to me then? Huh? You know all this is his fault.” I retorted, sullen and mad that Yoongi was trying to get me to go to Namjoon when what I really wanted was for him to come to me. Why was this so hard? Why would my husband not talk to me? Despite the fact of the words that were exchanged, I wanted to feel like he wanted to fight for me at least. Especially after the words that were said, how he begged me not to leave and I did just that - stayed. Why wasn’t Namjoon fighting for his family?

“All this fault? Please. You’re smarter than this.” He ticked disapprovingly at me while he shook his inky haired head and we began to exit the tiny cafe, avoiding all the tree roots in the process. “You could have spoken up more about how you were feeling. Don’t solely put the blame on one person. To me, the way I see it, is you both are just being hard headed. You both clearly love each other otherwise you still wouldn’t be at the apartment. You’d be at your parents house in Mokpo and Namjoon would be selling the apartment to get rid of the memories. But,” He continued as we walked, the bitter cold making the warmth from the coffee cure our shivers. “You both are still there for the most part. You both are still being stubborn. And you both,” He sighed, clearly done. “Are annoying the shit out of me.”

“Hey,” I laughed a bit as we came to a stop on the side of the street to rest on a park bench. “You’re the one that dragged me out of a perfectly good solace thank you very much.”

We had been walking for a few minutes to our favorite park and as we sat down so many memories were flooding back. I couldn’t help but relive the details of Yoongi and myself discovering this bench the first time we’d decided it would be a good idea to gorge ourselves on all you could eat gogi and the mess we’d gotten ourselves into, it seemed, after we’d eaten so much to the point we were both sick. This bench had seen everything; from me crying on his shoulder when I found out Namjoon would be leaving for the better part of two years, when I found out I was pregnant and was too scared to tell anyone other than Yoongi, when we’d been so drunk we couldn’t walk and kept laughing over the dumbest of things, almost puking behind it before calling a taxi to go home. It appeared that, with everything going on, I’d been in much more of a hazy and fogged state than I had realized with all the dusty memories deciding to resurface lately. It seemed that no matter how much I wanted to forget so many things from the past and move on, they were going to catch up to me no matter what.

It was still so odd to be sitting there with him despite the fact that I felt total comfort at the same time. I hadn’t seen him in so long and I forgot that Yoongi had this way about him that always made me feel welcome which used to shock the other members since he never really showed an interest in any of the girls the members brought home over the many years. I was different though, he had said, and that made my heart soar every time we were around each other. It was also quite jarring that Namjoon supported our close friendship. He didn’t mind that we would talk on the phone, texted constantly, and would go on outings like this where we just talked about life.

“Eh I wanted to check in. You know,” He sighed deeply this time and studied my face before offering a gummy smile that made my insides thaw. “Namjoon isn’t my only friend. You’re my friend too.”

“Aww, how sentimental. Are you growing soft on me Yoongs?” He rolled his eyes at me before the smile on his face disappeared into his deadpanned one.

“Shut up and drink your diabetes in a cup.” The banter continued like that for sometime while we sat on the bench long after the sunset like two old men on a porch swing; staring into the silent lives of all the people that passed us, contemplating who was going where, what they were doing and who, we wondered, were they going to meet.

Later, when Yoongi was called away to deal with his own life and I’d sat on the bench much longer than intended, I stalked home begrudgingly. It was odd, the sensation I had in the pit of my stomach as I trekked down the hallway towards the studio door only to find it open. It was as if butterflies were trying to use their fluttering wings to cut through my stomach lining. Where was Namjoon lurking if not in the studio? I was finding myself too nervous to find out when I heard something from within the apartment.

“Hyung, what am I supposed to do?” The voice startled me since it had been four weeks since I had heard it and I jumped unknowingly as my body continued to betray me.

“You know what you’re supposed to do Namjoon, why are you asking me?”

“Because...because I still love her and she wants nothing to do with me.”

“Aish,” I heard Seokjin say under his breath. I would know that voice anywhere and it appeared that Namjoon was residing in the kitchen with him. “You are so frustrating. Just go and talk to your wife.”

“But she wants nothing to do with me! She made that very clear. What is there even to say? Oh let’s get divorced? No, absolutely not. I won’t accept it. I will not talk to her because that is what she’s going to say and I don’t want that.” Something irked inside of me at the mention of divorce. It loomed over my head like a rain cloud out of nowhere and it really bothered me in a way that made me nervous. What was wrong with me?

“Have you ever even considered that this isn’t about what you want?” Seokjin sighed again, exasperated. “What did she tell you, huh? That she didn’t know herself. That she couldn’t be with you because you are always gone and you feel like a stranger to her. She didn’t mention divorce.”

“But she did say we shouldn’t be together.”

“And look,” He paused slightly. It sounded as if he was stuffing his face full of some kind of food. “She’s still here isn’t she? And besides, if you actually love her then get off your ass and go and talk to her. Fix this issue. You don’t want to be a stranger to her? Then don’t be. It’s pretty simple really. Now,” He paused. “Pass me that kimbap.”

Feeling as though I had just heard a very private conversation I tried my best to sneak past the kitchen unseen but, as luck would have it, I failed tripping over one of Yumi’s forgotten toys.

“Look who it is!” Seokjin yelled, making me jump in the process as he clapped his hands together. My eyes met Namjoon briefly and I could tell from across the room that his face was flushed a light crimson color as if I’d just pounced in on their conversation which he was flustered about. Which, despite the fact that I unintentionally did, was jarring to me. Who was Namjoon becoming that he got so easily embarrassed by my presence? “Come and eat!”

“It’s okay,” I tried. “I don’t want to impose-”

“Don’t be like that. I haven’t seen you in a year, get in here.” Truth dripped from his mouth in a way that made me feel so sullen that I entered the kitchen despite not wanting to necessarily be around Namjoon. They were sitting opposite each other at our kitchen table and gorging themselves on a variety of foods it seemed; laughing and talking before things got serious I could tell since there were soju bottles lining the edge of the table.

“I forgot how loud you could be.” I meant to think it but instead it came out of my mouth a bit louder than I would have liked and Seokjin nearly spit out his drink everywhere from laughing. I had forgotten how exuberant he could be, especially when slightly intoxicated, and it made me smile. Namjoon was looking dead at me as this all occurred and it made those pesky little butterflied kick back up at full speed. Being in the same room with him after so long of not even seeing his face was making me overheat and I felt flushed for some odd reason.

What was happening to me? I thought I didn’t want anything to do with him and yet, after seeing Yoongi and now Seokjin, my mind could only process one thing: how good it felt to have them all back around me.

“What are you guys eating?” I asked timidly.

“My homemade kimbap and some kimchi my family sent me. Now,” He patted the spot next to him that was across from Namjoon as he pushed a bunch of empty snack bags out of the way. Shaky and nervous I made my way towards him. “Sit next to me. Let’s drink!”

It didn’t slip by me when I sat down that Seokjin shot Namjoon with a knowing look before jerking his head in my direction. If I was a different person, maybe I would have initiated some kind of conversation, but with Namjoon and Seokjin both looking now in my direction it left me speechless.

“Hey,” Namjoon started, grabbing a bottle of my favorite flavor soju and cracking it open. I watched as he grabbed an empty cup, pouring it full to the brim before handing it over to me. I took it without hesitation, figuring getting a little drunk might take the edge off, and shivered slightly as our fingertips brushed. He was blushing again I could see and I was mostly certain it wasn’t just from the alcohol.

“Excuse me guys, duty calls.” Seokjin interrupted lifting himself up from the table and walking down the hall and towards the bathroom. I waited until he was fully gone, hearing the click of the door for good measure, before I mustered up the courage to look directly at Namjoon. He was sitting there, face unshaven and scruffy, hair a total mess, a stain on a white tee he was wearing that showed off his newly acquired arm muscles and, my God, did he look so unbelievably attractive.

“Hey,” I managed back a beat too late. Namjoon just scratched the back of his head before he pushed the plate of kimbap towards me.

“Please eat.” He said quietly. “It’s delicious.”

“I bet.” The small talk, as few words spoken as we both could manage, was already killing me. Being in this proximity of him was heating my face and body to a degree that was making me squirm underneath his stare. I took a shot of my drink before looking up at Namjoon again. The liquid hit me like fire and I was hoping it would give me the courage I needed to get through the rest of this interaction.

“Jin helped me put Yumi to bed.” I nodded, chewing the newly acquired food without thought. “She went down really easy.”

“That’s good. Maybe she’ll actually sleep tonight.” Bitterness set back in as I looked at him. Earlier I had dropped Yumi off at her school before going out with Yoongi, only sending Namjoon a simple text informing him that he would be responsible for picking up our daughter since I had plans. He hadn’t responded which only made my furry grow more. Lately it felt very much of the same. It was as if Namjoon was a completely different person living in our apartment and entirely separate from our family. He didn’t eat with us, he didn’t play with Yumi and he certainly didn’t put her to sleep. It was as if I was still a single parent even though I had a husband who was just down the hall.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon admitted, looking down at the empty tin foil that sat in front of him. I couldn’t help but tilt my head to the side as if confused by his sudden confession until he continued. “I know I haven’t exactly been the best of help lately.”

No you haven’t, I wanted to say. Instead I just shrugged. “I’m used to it.” I didn’t miss when he winced at my words but I also wasn’t sorry I said them. It was just simply a fact.

“How was your outing with Yoongi?” He changed the subject when he realized that talking about our daughter was only going to result in a fight. When it came to her I couldn’t help myself; I was extremely overprotective. Having taken care of her by myself for all these years had really ingrained that in me whether I wanted to be or not.

“Good,” I nodded; my lips widening at the thought. “I missed him.” I confessed just now letting it hit me just how much I had missed him. The year had been so lonely and even though we would message, Yoongi was very busy and couldn’t always get back to me. It would be pretty safe to say I’d slipped in and out of my depressive episodes and would ignore my phone for weeks. Perhaps that’s why I’d gravitated towards Sujin at first; out of loneliness. We’d become easy friends out of convenience at first and it blossomed from there. He was filling the void in me that I didn’t know I needed filled until he was there, answering my calls late at night, letting me vent about my marriage, letting me just be me with my daughter without the pressures of having an idol husband and friends.

“I’m glad you could see him then.” He was smiling at me in a way that made my stomach and insides churn with thoughts I was trying my best to suppress. I watched as he took another shot of his drink and I followed suit, downing the whole mass of liquid. I reached for the bottle, filing my glass again before downing the whole thing one more time. I needed this. I needed to get these words out of my mouth.

“Namjoon,” I tried, picking at my hands again as I started to change the subject.Thanks to the flavorful liquid I finally had found some burst of courage and I wasn’t about to let it slip by me. The small talk was killing me to the point I couldn’t take it anymore and all I wanted was answers. I could feel his eyes on me as I continued to pick my hands but Namjoon made no motions to try and stop me this time. “Do you think this is working?”

“Is what working?” He asked slightly puzzled, hands knotting together as he looked at me.

“Us.” There was a long pause in which the quiet hum of the air purifier filled the silence that came from him until he finally spoke.

“If I’m being totally honest,” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. He looked so beaten down and tired that I was starting to wonder just how many sleepless nights he’d had since my confession. “No.”

“So you understand then? What I said? About how I was feeling?” I could feel myself holding my breath.

“Not fully at first...but I guess I understand a little bit more now.” Of course you do, I wanted to say. It was, after all, thanks to your group mates who had intervened to mediate a different trajectory of an outcome. Instead I just nodded. “Look I won’t pretend that I’m blameless but,” He sighed. “I don’t think I’m fully to blame either.” I sat there for a long moment, considering Yoongi’s words from earlier, before I let myself look back at him.

“I...agree. I’ll admit that I could have been more...outspoken about some things. But Namjoon, you have to agree that we aren’t exactly...close anymore. That we haven’t been. For a while-”

“Babe,” He tried, slightly interrupting my train of thought to reach out to touch me. “Please stop. You’re starting to bleed again.” And there he was, with those long fingers of his touching mine ever so gently that I could feel everything in me buzzing alive once more. The sweet Namjoon that I’d missed for so long had returned in that light touch that it felt like an electric shock had been jolted into my system. The pesky butterflies were back, going at full speed now, and I was shaking slightly due to his warmth. He was leaning over the table, so close to me that I could feel the heat alight my face like a lit flame.

When I looked up, I could see that Namjoon was blushing a deep shade of crimson but, despite the fact that he seemed to be just as jittery as me, he didn’t back down. Instead, his eyes were focused on just me, his hands were on top of my hands and his lips, the ones that were parted ever so slightly, were moving forward towards me in just a way that I was just about to let them.

“Yah, why are you guys so quiet?” It was Seokjin’s boisterous voice that broke me of the spell of Namjoon and we quickly jerked back from each other. What the hell had almost just happened? “You better have saved me some food!” When Seokjin entered the kitchen we were back in our normal positions; Namjoon sitting quietly in his seat flushed with me picking at my hands while I stuffed my face full of gimbap and he just sighed when he saw us.

“Momma?” A small voice broke out and instantly all eyes turned towards the door of the kitchen.

“Yumi, what are you doing awake love?” I spoke through a mouthful of food, brows knitting together as I started to rise out of my seat. Motherly instinct was taking over again and I didn’t hesitate even once to see if Namjoon would get up to see what was the matter.

“I had a bad dream.” She yawned widely looking half dazed.

“Don’t get up, I got her.” I watched as Seokjin scooped her up in his arms and trekked back towards her bedroom, bouncing her along the way as she wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling her tiny head into his shoulder as he soothed her. I wanted to scream at Namjoon, tell him that’s how he should be acting, but instead I sat back down and swallowed my food as I avoided his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” He sputtered a beat later. “I’m just...really sorry. To be honest, I’m struggling here.” He breathed out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what to do. All I know is I don’t want to let go of you but I want to give you your space at the same time. Please,” He was begging. “Tell me what to do.”

“Namjoon,” I sighed, beaten down at this point and a little drunk. This day had been really long and, quite frankly, draining. While it was nice to have seen Yoongi and spent some time with him, I had to admit that the activity of actually leaving the house for myself was way more draining than I had thought it would be. Especially since all we did was talk about my love life. Coming home to find Seokjin and Namjoon drinking in our kitchen was another surprise on top of my ever changing mood and, with Namjoon having been so close only moments prior, my head was spinning. What was even going on anymore? My life was such a mess. “Do whatever you want.” And with that, in the mere seconds it took for me to stand up and for him to get out of his chair and be at my side, he was leaning in to kiss me.

tag list: @amordesiempre01​ @namucries​

#bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #bts #bts x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #bts fanfic #wildflower #strrawberrii #namjoon x reader

[space-blue]

Artist and Hound

Iain Hund, former supernatural homicide detective, now mere magical vandalism inspector, feels the staleness of his car's air like a strangling hand upon his thoughts. He sends a last baleful glare at the wall he has pointlessly stalked for the past eight hours and starts his car to drive back to the station.

In all his years in the Sup-PD, Hund had never doubted his own righteousness. When the Harris case had come his way, he'd broken all the rules necessary to land the damn man behind bars and still felt like it was right. He had accepted his demotion as a cheap price to pay to save the public from the likes of Jack Harris. So when he put down his things on his new cramped desk at magical vandalism, and even after a year chasing Blues dealers, petty curse carvers, and weres doing their claws on public property, Iain Hund had remained serene. Regret bloomed in him when the Artist's case was made his top priority.

Tom, whom he shares his desk with, is a cold shoulder to cry on.

"No chance with this new stake-out then?" Met only by moody silence, Tom pushes a box of donut accross the desk. "You look like you need some."

"You eat donuts like a road cop."

"Well, those guys know what's up. Didn't you work with them, back in the day?"

"Yes," Iain sighs, dunking his hand in the proffered box, "and this case is the most pointless and disheartening task I've been given in my career, which includes these old patrols with the normal's police, writing tickets and shit."

"Come on, the Artist has been taunting us for years, but she can't be flawless. Guy with an ability like yours, what's that? Magikolour synaesthesia? Why go for stake-outs and CCTV? Why not make some traps? You've got more magical ability than this whole floor put together!"

"Tom, I'd need so many warrants for one trap, it's not ever happening. I think I got given this task as extra punishment. Something senseless to run after until I retire."

"What if they really think you can catch the vandal who's never been caught?"

"Why do they want that anyway? Because some loony normal might scrap some paint off a wall and somehow figue out there's something off with it? What am I to say to her if I catch her? 'You're under arrest for artistry. Your fingers will be broken... No, sorry, I mean, I need your address so we can send you fines!' Don't you think we'd all be better off with more art like hers in NY, and less wendigos or murderous weres I could put behind bars?"

"Hund, I don't wanna disappoint, but the world's been doing just fine without you. Also, moaning to me isn't getting you back into homicide and you know it. Artist is no murderer, maybe you've got to change your tactic, get original."

Iain, knowing good advice when he hears it, wonders about the changes he could make. The police, sup or normal's, has no name or face to put on the Artist. Even her gender is as good as the street word, rumours from the guy who knows a guy who's seen her.

Dusting donut crumbs from his notebooks, Iain peruses through weeks of drawings. When seen by normals or photographed, the Artist's work is static, if beautiful graffiti art. The drawings were to capture the details of what sups–anyone with a shred of magical ability–saw instead: myriads of images, sometimes a whole scene, with characters turning to the watcher, mouth opening in mute calls, sometimes the paint exploding out of the walls, pulling you in clouds of coruscant particles. In his book Iain has little boats on the calm waters of a lake, the face of a submerged god half hidden under lotuses; a pale man weeping liquid gold; a woman playing a sitar, each sound coming alive in the shape of a fantastical animal; a highway bridge pillar turned into an aquarium in which twirled a bigger-than-life mermaid; and many more. His notebook is far thicker than the case file ever was. In the last pages he finds the sketches made of a long mural of dancers. Their appearance changed depending on the angle you looked at it, a masquerade of shape-shifters. In it is a message for the man the Artist knows is on her trail, for hidden behind the legs of a dancer stands a black wolf-dog and though it has no collar, a golden tag gleams beneath its jaws, etched in the faintest strokes with the name Iain.

That's how she must see me: the law's dog on his invisible leash.

"Alright, let's get original."

"Mmh? Where are you going?"

"Hudson Heights. I'm gonna get friendlier with our local alchemists."

He leaves Tom to choke on his donut.

Alchemists have no claws or tooth to rend through you, but they don't need them. The power they wield, and their tendency for single minded obsession, makes them a prickly bunch, and the Sup-PD has a special unit for policing them. Iain's badge feels like a flimsy shield in his hand as he steps down from the sunny, all-American street and into the subterranean entrance to the alchemy quarters. The skills of the Artist and the finesse of her alchemical paints has already sent Iain deep inside those hidden galleries of shops and studios, where his questions revealed envy, admiration, and wholesalers of raw materials who did most business online and all proudly claimed her as a loyal customer, whilst unable or unwilling to prove anything.

The man at the entrance smiles at Hund.

"What do you want this time, cop?"

"Just visiting Toby Smith as a customer today." Iain grimaces. "Please."

The doorman grins sardonically, Smith being a famously irascible alchemist. He reaches for the door handle and applies his magic to it. To Iain it looks like a blue aura. A small displacement magic, that opens doors to other places. He nods his thanks and scuttles past and right into the maddening chaos of Toby Smith's shop.

"You again? What do you want now?" a disembodied voice asks from all corners.

Smith does business like this, never bothering to be present in the same room as his customers, his store guarded by an arsenal of curses that would make any hardened criminal as docile as a puppy.

"Paints."

"You're still after the Artist?"

"Ah, yes sir."

"You planning on defacing her work?"

"No sir. I–well, I like her work too. She caters to her fans though, and I thought, maybe, I can get to discuss with her somehow?"

Drawers open at invisible hands, glass jars and packets start drifting towards Iain.

"You're planning some sort of painting show-down? You've got guts Hund, I like it. Leave two hundred behind, follow the instructions on the packs, and work on your magic before mixing, unless you want blowing your moronic face off."

"Thanks sir."

"You're a better guy than I assumed."

"Sir?"

"Mixing paints to life is a tiny magic, but it's also very rare. The Artist has a unique gift. That someone with such a high grade magic as yours can appreciate her work is good. Maybe with you on her case she won't get wiped after all."

Iain mouth goes very dry.

"Wiped? Why would..."

His mind reels. It makes perfect sense now. Why bother with breaking fingers, indeed! Such a small gift, to breath life into a pot of already alchemical paint. It would take a tiny trap seal with her name on it to erase her magic as surely as if she were born a normal. He can picture his bosses, patting him on the shoulder. Good job Hund.

"Hund?"

"Thank you sir. For your honesty."

Iain goes home on autopilot, lost in his thoughts. He spends several evenings practising, and more building the final spell-works and paints before going out. He's mapped the Artist's work throughout Manhattan, and picked a wall she is likely to walk by. Finally he sits behind the wheel of his car and works a small shifting magic on his face. He has decided to go into the night to do what he's paid to stop. He feels shivers of anticipation and dread, a kinship and a respect stronger than ever before for the Artist who so inconspicuously prowls the nights.

He does her portrait, suggested, unfinished, broad strokes of paint revealing how little he knows of her. Sitting beside her stands a black hound with a golden tag, his muzzle resting in her lap, adoring eyes gazing up into her unpainted face waiting to be filled. Artist and Hound, he titles it.

A promise.

Two days later, Iain finds that the mouth of the Artist has been painted over in a slight smile.

~~ October 2018 – Theme : Small Magics

#original work #original story #competition #fantasy

[marshmallow-phd]

My Soul to Burn

Part of the EXO Demon Series

Genre: Demon AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Minseok

Summary: Unknown to the mortals, the world was plunging into chaos. But Minseok couldn’t care less. He was still able to take assignments, able to continue in collecting souls of the gullible. As long as he could do his job, he didn’t care what the angels or his boss were up to. Out stalking his next target, he met you, someone who could see him even when he chose to be invisible. At first, he shrugged you off, not interest in the mystery. But after another chance encounter, Minseok was intrigued. As your abnormality could have a part to play in the war against the angels, he was reluctantly keeping you close. With you as warm as he was cold, he tried to stay the terrifying demon while being haunted by Kris’ last words…

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

**

Minseok arrived back at the mansion, Chanyeol pouncing as soon as he saw him.

“Who was that?” he asked with those annoyingly big eyes.

“Just a nuisance,” Minseok grumbled.

“But she could see us.” Chanyeol bounced from one foot to the other. He was so easily spooked and that pitiful state was obnoxious.

Minseok ignored him as he stalked to the kitchen. Jongdae was sitting at the middle island, reading over his latest file sprayed out in front of him. He looked stress, but after his debacle with an older contract, it was understandable. He couldn’t leave any opening for the target to get out unscathed.

Fetching two glasses out of the cabinet and pouring more whiskey than necessary, Minseok slid one glass to the other demon who picked it up and downed nearly half of it.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jongdae sighed. Minseok just shrugged.

Most of the others in the house kept their distance from Minseok. While they were all demons, most of them were softer than they should have been. Yixing sickened him the most, too sweet and interested in the everyday numbness of human lives. The youngest ones, mostly Sehun and Tao, really got on his nerves with their antics and occasional whining. Jongdae seemed to be the only one he could stand being around for long periods of time. Luhan as well, but he was more relaxed around the former.

“What was Chanyeol talking about someone seeing you?” Jongdae inquired, flipping his folder shut. He could never stay concentrated on a target for long.

Minseok shrugged, taking another sip of the alcohol. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to drink the stuff, the burn wasn’t as searing as it was to a human and the amount it took him to get drunk would be almost half a liquor store. “Just some girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“You say that now,” Jongdae murmured. “What if something else happens? We’ve already had issues thanks to one human girl. We don’t really need her to track us down here or mess something up.”

“Just drop it,” Minseok snapped.

Truth be told, Minseok wanted everyone else to drop it so he could. He needed to keep up the pretense that you being able to see him wasn’t bruising his ego. Having power that humans could only dream of? Yeah, he lived for it. Not having one of his favorites be usable against one measly female? It was pissing him off.

Minseok finished off his drink, taking both his and Jongdae’s empty glasses and washing them clean in the sink before laying them on the hardly used drying rack. Just as he was exiting the kitchen, he threw over his shoulder, “Get that case done in a timely manner. I can’t keep covering for your sluggishness.”

Jongdae smirked. “Sure thing, fearsome leader.”

Minseok rolled his eyes and left. Just before he made it to the first step, Yixing came down the stairs, taking a wide berth to avoid him as much as possible, not even making eye contact when he passed. As much as Minseok didn’t care for the softy, he was getting sick and tired of this childish silent treatment.

“Are you actually going to spend the rest of eternity blaming me?” Minseok snarled at Yixing’s back.

Yixing froze before slowly turning just enough to look over his shoulder at Minseok. “I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault that you did your duty as a pawn to Lucifer and caused the world to turn into a battle ground. Besides, Kris would have eventually left with her on his own.” He looked away and continued to the door. Just as he turned the handle and opened it a crack, he added, “You know, I hope what Kris told you really does come true. I think it be good for you.”

“Deaf ears,” Minseok scoffed. Of course Yixing heard that pathetic speech Mr. Noble gave him. “I don’t even remember what that little traitor said.”

“Yes, you do,” Yixing challenged. He disappeared through the entryway, the door closing with a soft click.

Minseok shook his head. What a load of bullshit. If anyone else was going to crack and fall for a stupid human, it’d be Yixing. Then Minseok could laugh in his face and then watch his traitorous butt drive away just like Kris. Maybe he should introduce you to Yixing?

He shook his head. No. As much as he didn’t care for Yixing, he didn’t think he should put him through the torture of your attitude.

Shrugging off the thought, Minseok took the stairs two at a time. He was sure that he had all he needed to persuade his target to make a deal and that’s where his focus needed to be.

**

For about twenty-four hours you were extremely paranoid. Looking over your shoulder every five seconds, jumping at every little sound that hummed through your dingy studio apartment, seeing things that weren’t actually there. You were completely exhausted from being in a permanent state of fight or flight.

But after making it through two whole nights without that stranger coming after you, you calmed down and went back to your normal programming. Besides, maybe you just imagined him disappearing into thin air. The adrenaline of the run mixed with your exhaustion after working seven days in a row without a break was just making you see things.

Yes, that’s exactly what it was. Your mind playing tricks on you. There was no way a person could actually turn invisible or teleport or whatever the hell it was that your mind came up with. He was not going to come after you. There was no reason to be fearful for your life.

This was a mantra you kept repeating to yourself as you came in through the back door of the coffee shop. You were greeted by Mr. Kwon, who was getting ready to make the first batch of fresh brew for the day, and Hana as she was simultaneously stuffing napkins into the metal holders and texting catch-of-the-week on her phone.

Immediately, you started on your own pre-opening tasks: wiping down tables for anything that might have been missed the night before, refilling sugar packets, and double checking that all dishes were cleaned and ready for use.

Hana leaned on the counter as you reorganized the cups stacked for any to-go orders.

“So, John told me you were seeing someone who wasn’t there the other day.” Her lips were pulled into a teasing smirk. While Hana was a nice girl, she wasn’t necessarily someone you would hang out with outside of work. She could be a little too nosy for your liking.

“Misunderstanding,” you lied coolly. “I accidently said table six rather than table seven. That’s why he thought I was seeing things.” You let your shoulders fall in a nonchalant shrug. “It was busy. You know, because someone else wouldn’t answer their phone.” You pointed your gaze on the device in her hands, making her put it away guiltily.

“I was in a movie,” she pouted. Although it was perfectly clear that she was more disappointed by your ordinary explanation rather than being called out for avoiding her job. She wasn’t scheduled to work, but it was her week for backup duty.

Unreliable was a good descriptive word for Hana. But Mr. Kwon kept her around because she did, admittedly, always show up on time for her days that were marked on the calendar. You just couldn’t get her to come in for extra help.

The subject was dropped, however, and soon the shop was open for business. As it was a week day, morning business mostly consisted of sleepy commuters needing their daily dose of caffeine before heading off to their boring office jobs.

That was something you could never do. The idea of sitting at a computer all day every day, doing the same thing over and over again made you die inside. Did you have the most luxurious home? No. Did you have a car? No at all. Did you get to go out on expensive vacations all around the world? As nice as that would be, the answer was still no.

But you were comfortable. You actually enjoyed coming into work most days. You liked having the same customers that you could talk to, make them smile when their day was down, or secretly give them an extra treat just because, but each day still came with surprises. Of course, you had days that you rolled over and didn’t want to get out of bed, but didn’t everyone?

You didn’t need the fancy luxuries in life. You just needed to get by with a little treat every now and again. That kept you satisfied.

“(y/n)?”

You shoved the rest of the Danish in your mouth that you had snuck into the back to eat. The morning rush was over and your stomach was yelling at you to give it something to hold you over until your actual break in an hour or so.

You turned around, trying not to choke as you cleared your mouth of the pastry. “Yeah, Hana?”

Hana batted her eyes for a moment and then hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Mr. Thomas is asking for you.”

Nodding, you hurried past her before she could voice her opinion on whether or not the middle aged accountant had a thing for you or not. She was always jumping to conclusions and gossiping. Some day you were sure it would get her in trouble.

When you reached the counter, you blinked, at first not recognizing him.

Mr. Thomas looked better than he had in weeks. Gone were the bags under the eyes and the wrinkled clothes that desperately needed a good dry cleaning. Instead, the stubble on his face was shaved away, his clothes looked fresh from the tailor, and he was smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“How can I help you, Mr. Thomas?” You gave him a smile, feeling a bit relieved that he seemed to be doing much better.

“I’ve come to offer you a job, Miss (y/n),” he stated, getting straight to the point.

Your mouth dropped. “W-what?”

“My firm is back on track,” he explained, “and I’ll never be broke again. You’ve helped keep my spirits up a lot these past few weeks and so I was hoping I could bring you along with me. The office could use a girl like you.”

Um…. “Thank you, Mr. Thomas.” You tried to remain polite. He was obviously sincere about the position, but working for him was a one way ticket to a cubicle and dying spirit. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what I could do in an office….”

You’d worked service jobs your whole life. You weren't even sure how a copier worked for the most part.

“I figured you could be my personal secretary.” His eyes looked… not hopeful, but almost as if he was sure that you’d have no other answer but yes.

“Thank you, again, Mr. Thomas,” you lost the smile on your face so he’d understand that you were perfectly serious in your rejection, “but I’m quite comfortable here. I’m sorry.”

The grin slipped from his face. “Oh. Are you sure? I have enough that I can pay you double than what you make here. Just name your salary, I’ll give it to you.”

To any other person that would have been more than enough to take the job. But you remembered how weathered and soulless your father looked each night getting home from work. That wasn’t worth it in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas,” you emphasized, “but I just can’t accept your offer.”

He sighed. “Okay, then. I understand.” The smile was right back on his face. “How about I take you out to dinner then?”

Your eyes widened. Hana snorted from her eavesdropping hiding space in the back. If only someone would kill you now.

**

Minseok nearly gagged. Was the old man serious? He was at least twice your age and yet, there he was, trying to get you out on a date. As grotesque as Minseok found the situation, the look on your face pushed a laugh out of him. You were utterly horrified and Minseok nearly patted himself on the back.

Something else that always set him apart from his brothers was how he liked to stick around the targets and watch the aftermath. When someone went from a few days of being evicted to suddenly rolling in money, there was always a show. They either took themselves farther down the road of destruction with endless means to fund it or they found themselves back where they started – if they were dumb and only asked for a certain amount of money and prosperity.

That was what people always wanted these days. Money. Wealth. Fame and fortune. The amount of actors and singers who had contracts signed in their name and waiting for their deathbed was unbelievable.

Most of the targets got big heads, walking around like they had the world at their feet instead of their name on the list of hell-goers. They live it up now, forgetting the torture that awaited them after death.

But this. This right here just might be the most hysterical event Minseok ever witnessed. The old man got his skyscraper accounting firm and million dollar home and now he thought he could just waltz in the shop and sweep you off your feet. At this point, Minseok was tempted to leave his hiding space just outside the shop, blocked from view by the wall and leaning forward just enough to see your face, and head inside to be closer to the action. But then you would see him and the show would probably be over. He was extremely thankful that demons had superior hearing.

“Mr. Thomas, I don’t think that’s appropriate at all.” Your overall tone was nice, but even Minseok could feel the underlying tension in your voice.

“Come on, (y/n),” Thomas whined, practically begging like a dog. “It’s just dinner. Besides, what’s the big? It’s the twenty-first century. Age doesn’t matter.”

You snapped. “I said no. I am not interested in getting dinner with you. And your insistence is making me uncomfortable. So either please order something or leave.”  

Minseok was impressed. It was rare to see someone stand up for themselves like that.

Figuring out that just because he was rich now didn’t mean he could get you, the idiot ran out of the shop with his tail between his legs. Snorting, Minseok shimmered away before you could notice him.

Back at the mansion, he just wandered around, already itching to get a new assignment. This one had been too easy. Thomas had practically begged for the contract as soon as he figured out what Minseok was. There was no fight, no bartering or back and forth. Boring.

“Minseok.”

Excellent.

Turning around with a smug smile on his face, Minseok answered, “Yes?”

Junmyeon didn’t look as happy. He was always so stoic and serious. Minseok actually kind of liked that. But he did wander if Junmyeon knew how to smile, wickedly or otherwise.

The fearless leader held up a folder and Minseok could feel his eyes shining.

“I was supposed to give this to Tao,” Junmyeon stated. “But he’s still working on his previous assignment. I heard you’ve finished yours and I know-”

Minseok snatched the folder out of his hand and was halfway up the stairs before Junmyeon could blink. He waltzed into the second floor study and plopped down in one of the chairs near the bookcases, leathery and overstuffed but comfortable, and opened up the file.

He nearly choked. It was strange feeling. He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. But he’d already taken the assignment, accepted the target. This would be… interesting.

#exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo demon au #exo demon!au #exo x fem reader #exo x fem!reader #kim minseok x reader #xiumin #kim jongdae #chen #lu han #luhan #kim junmyeon #suho #park chanyeol #zhang yixing #lay #My Soul to Burn

[classic-rock-roller]

1. You and Tom and Kevin are joining Bonham in the Game Grumps studio for filming of the 10 minute power hour. They have the schedule set so that you each are guests individually except Tom because he doesn’t like it. You all watch the recording when each other is serving as a guest, and when it’s Bonham’s turn they are doing each other’s makeup. At one point she is working on Danny and says, “Your fucking hair is in the way, hang on.” She holds his hair back like a headband, and sits on his lap to get a better view. None of them are making a big deal out of it, but Kevin is visibly fuming in the seat next to you. He says to you, “Can I please tell her to get off of him? I don’t like how this looks.” Arin says to him past the camera, “Dude she’s putting children’s makeup on him for a shitty YouTube show, you can’t honestly be jealous right now.” How does Kevin respond, and what do you, Tom, Danny and Bonham say?

Kevin: Of course I am. Have you seen how beautiful his hair is?!

Danny: Why thank you, Kevin. I use coconut oil and special shampoo.

He flips his hair which messes up Bons. 

Bons: Knock it off, Danny. I gotta do this. 

Tom: (under his breath) This is so stupid. 

I pat his thigh. 

Me: Just let us enjoy the stupidity, Tommy. 

2. You and Bonham and Tom and Nikki are standing offstage at a Quiet Riot show, and you’re all loving it. At one point Nikki says to Bonham, “I dare you to go out there right now.” “What no, are you insane? I’m not interrupting a show.” Tom looks at you and says, “Watch this.” then turns to Bonham, pushes her out onto the stage and says, “Yes you are!” She stumbles out onstage and instinctively freezes. Kevin is jumping around and sees her, and he shouts into the mic, “There she is! Look at my girlfriend! Kiss me you scandalous bitch!” What happens and what do you, Tom, and Nikki say?

She is still frozen. I go out and go to pull her back in and Kevin goes, “Look! My best gal pal too. Hey Tom! Get out here! Kiss your girlfriend!” Nikki Pushes Tom out and we’re all kind of standing there. I peck Tom on the lips and then pull Bons backstage again. Kevin screams, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my wonderful girlfriend and Mr. and Mrs. Keifer.” I glare at Tom after we get backstage again and go, “You’re a fucking asshole” before taking Bons to a chair so she can calm down because it looks like she’s going to faint. 

Tom(following after me): come on, honey! You know I meant nothing by it. 

Nikki has been cackling since Tom pushed Bons onstage.  

3. You’re returning from a hot date with your college boyfriend when you see Bonham scurrying back to your dorm with a trash bag full of instant coffee packets, but they’re all empty. You ask what she’s doing and she says, “All will be revealed in due time.” Later that night, there’s an angry knock on your door. Bonham answers calmly and says, “Hey Vince, what’s up?” He pushes her squarely in the chest, and she topples over. He stands over top of her and says, “Don't play dumb with me you fucking bitch! What did you do to my room?” She says, “You mean why are there nine hundred instant coffee packets spilled in everything you own? It can’t possibly be because you stole all my underwear, so in that case I’m stumped.” Her sarcasm is just pissing him off. How do you react to hearing what she did, and what does Vince say about the situation? What does his roommate Tommy say when he gets back?

I’m giggling and Vince glares at me. “You know I could just tell the RA your boyfriend is in your room when he shouldn’t be.” He glares at Bons, “You’re helping me clean it up.” Tommy thinks it’s funny because none of his stuff was touched. 

4. AVERT YOUR EYES KIDDOS AND STAFF YA FUCKIN SQUARES

You’re sitting with Tom on your couch one day and after a while you both get bored so you start kissing. Things are getting pretty intense, and finally Tom tells you, “Touch yourself.” “What?” you say. “Don’t play coy. Touch yourself. I want to watch.” How do you respond, and what does Tom do?

Me: Uhh, no way. You know I don’t even normally do that when you’re not here and you know it makes me uncomfortable. 

He pulls me in for a kiss.

Tom: Then I guess both of us’ll have fun instead. 

5. You’ve been with Tom for a couple of months now, and Bonham’s been helping Kevin out. He’s been out of rehab for a couple of weeks, and the four of you are hanging out for the first time. It’s been a tough week and you’re all tired, so you end up dozing off. At one point you hear Kevin make an uncomfortable noise and Tom says, “What’s the matter DuBrow?” He makes the same noise again and says, “Nothing I’m……fine…” You open your eyes a little bit and see that Bonham fell asleep across his lap, and she’s got her chest directly on his lap. You soon put two and two together and figure out why he’s uncomfortable. They don’t know you’re awake yet. Do you say anything? What does Tom say? Does Kevin move Bonham?

I don’t say anything but I get up to get something to drink and Tom says, “You’re in a real predicament there aren’t you, DuBrow?” Kevin doesn’t move her. He just sits there until she wakes up. 

6. AVERT YOUR EYES STAFF kids idc so much this one ain’t  so bad

Your band and Cinderella are getting ready to film a video together. Kevin is there too. At one point, Tom accidentally runs into a secretary and just says, “Sorry.” Kevin says to Bonham, “That Tom guy is so stoic I don’t know how he and BabyCarrot are going to have a kid.” Bonham says, “Oh what ever, he’s just as much of a sex fiend as you, he can just hide it.” “No way, I’ll bet you fifty bucks that he’s a complete prude.” Kevin says. “You’re on,” Bonham says. “And I got just the way to prove it.” (you are unaware of this whole conversation, this is just for context). Bonham comes up to you and Kevin is off to the side. She’s trying to open one of those squeezy water bottles. “I can’t get this open, can you? Maybe Tom can. Hey Tom! C’mere!” He walks over and says, “What?” “We can’t get this open, can you–ooooooooooopsss…” Bonham grabs the bottle from you and says an exaggerated ‘oops’ and squeezes the bottle super hard, soaking your shirt. You were getting ready so you don’t have a bra on. “What the hell!” you say. “Oh no, now you’re soaking wet!” Bonham says exaggeratedly, “I’d better get a towel!” she walks off, and when she comes back and hands it to you, she says to Tom, “Help your wife clean up!” and thrusts the towel at him. He starts to dry you off and then when it’s time for you to change your shirt he says, “I’ll uh…be right back.” “What was that all about?” you ask Bonham. She says, “Oh nothing, I’m just clumsy but Tom seemed REALLY HOT AND BOTHERED ABOUT THAT.” She shouts the last part over her shoulder and you see Kevin fume before coming over. “Alright you win.” He says. How do you respond? Who explains what’s going on? WHo are you more mad at?

Me: What do you mean? What’s going on? 

Kevin: Bons bet me that Tom was as much of a sex fiend as I am and I told her she was wrong so she had to prove me wrong. 

I smirk at them, “Of course he is. Where do you think the two of us were earlier for a half hour?” 

Kevin’s mouth is hanging open after i grab Bons arm and pull her away for sound check. 

7. You and Bonham and Kevin and Tom are visiting a community college to do a talk with the students. You’re walking down the science hall when a terrible droning buzz comes over the intercom. “ATTENTION ATTENTION. THIS IS A LOCKDOWN. PLEASE SEEK SAFETY. LOCK YOUR DOORS AND TURN OFF YOUR LIGHTS. A POLICE OFFICER WILL RELEASE YOU WHEN IT IS SAFE TO COME OUT. ATTENTION ATTENTION…” this continues on a loop. Your tour guide, the dean of students, pulls you four into a science supply closet and locks the door. THe announcement hasn’t said whether or not this is a drill, so you’re all a bit confused. You’re all sitting in the closet, the only light coming from the eerie green exit sign. Bonham and Kevin are sitting on the floor, you’re sitting on the counter, and Tom is pacing around. After fifteen minutes, Tom turns to the dean and says, “So when’s this drill up? We’ve got shit to do.” Just as he’s finished talking, you hear a pop come from the hallway. The dean just looks at him and says, “If this was a drill the announcement would have said so. Someone’s in here.” More pops sound. Bonham kinda squeaks and grabs Kevin’s hand. Tom really quickly yanks you off the counter and puts his arm around you. How do the four of you respond to what the dean said? How long does it last? What happens when you come out?

Tom: Seriously?!

Kevin: You should have better security. 

I’m hyperventilating and trying to keep myself calm and I go over and hug Bons. 

We all just sit there and wait for like an eternity which was actually only 20 minutes when it’s over and we can come out, we find out they caught the crazy guy and no one was killed, thank god. 

8. You and Bonham and Kevin and Tom are getting ready to go out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. You and Tom are ready to go but you hear Bonham tell Kevin, “No, you are not wearing that.” “Why not? It’s fine.” “Kevin I love you but your fashion sense is the worst thing I have ever seen.” How does Kevin respond? What do you and Tom say when they finally come down?

Kevin: No, it is not! 

Kevin comes down in that god awful pink suit. 

I stare at him and go, “No, you’re not wearing that. I thought I burned that thing.”

Kevin: I have multiples. 

Bons: He refuses to change.

Me: Well we’re changing that. 

We both take him upstairs and he changes. 

Tom: God, you’re burning my eyes in that thing. Why do you even have it? It’s atrocious. 

9. You and Tom are in the studio one day when you get a call from a cop. “Is this A. M. Keifer and/or C. T. Keifer?” “Yes, why?” you say. “I’m on the scene of a car wreck and one of the victims has you as her emergency contact. We’re at 45th and Youngsfield. You might want to get down here.” He hangs up before you can say anything. You and Tom go down there and you see Kevin before you see the cop, but you’re more confused by the wreck. Kevin’s car is there and the front end is smashed, but the twisted pile of metal on the other side of the intersection is harder to recognize. THe driver’s side is smashed in, but it looks like Bonham’s car. You ask Kevin what happened and he’s a bit hysterical. Through his ravings, Kevin tells you that he was planning on meeting her at a new restaurant, and she was turning and he ran a red light and hit the driver’s side of her car head-on. He’s fine except for a couple of scrapes and bruises, but the EMTs are loading Bonham into the ambulance as you speak. The cop who called you earlier is walking up just as Kevin is telling you all this. How do you and Tom respond? What does the cop say? What happens next?

Me: Kevin, you fucking idiot! 

I hit him with my fists and Tom grabs my arms. 

Tom: Whoa, whoa, whoa, there tiger, calm down. 

I go with Bons in the ambulance and she’s fine but we have to postpone our upcoming concert because she broke her leg again. 

10. Your band and QR are hanging out one night and drinking when the subject of death comes up. Everyone is slowly speculating how everyone will die, and Bonham suddenly says, “I know exactly how I’m going to die, I’m going to shoot myself with a smile on my face. I’ll make sure my friends are happy and then I’ll take myself out cause God knows that no one is going to help me.” That’s dark. How do you, Rudy, Kevin, Carlos, Frankie, Erik, Linus, and Sean respond?

I burst into tears and go, “Please don’t please.” 

Kevin hugs me and goes, “We’d miss you Bons. Please don’t do that.” 

Rudy pulls her into a tight hug and Linus and Erik join it. 

Frankie is sleeping because he’s too drunk and its late. 

Carlos: Whoa, heavy man.

Sean was in the bathroom and comes back, “...what did I miss?” 

11. AVERT YOUR EYES STAFF

You and Tom and Bonham and Kevin are hanging out for the first time since he’s gotten out of rehab. At one point you’re all playing cards, and Bonham steps out to get drinks. She puts beers in front of you and Tom, and as she’s placing Kevin’s drink in front of him, she rests her chest on his shoulder and whispers something about strategy into his ear. She says more loudly, “But that’s just me.” As she sits down, Tom nudges you and points to Kevin. You look up and you see that he’s flushed beet red and is fidgeting in his seat, meanwhile Bonham’s got a smug look on her face. What does Kevin say? How do you and Tom react to what just happened? Does Bonham say anything?

Kevin: I...uh...I’ll...be right back. 

He gets up and makes a beeline for the bathroom. 

We both look at each other but don’t say anything. 

Bons just has a smirk on her face. 

____________________

1) Your singer is pregnant with her and Tom’s first kid and Tom is halfway across the country performing when she goes into labor. You and Kevin take her to the hospital and Kevin is going to her once they get her in the room, “Just breath.” She glares at him and screams, “That’s easy for you to say! I don’t see a kid coming out of your vagina!” How do you and Kevin respond?

2) Your sitting in the front row of a QR concert with your singer and Tom. Kevin is leaning over the stage and singing and Tom goes, “Eww, something wet just dropped on me.” Your singer looks up and goes, “Oh yeah, that’s just Kevin. Slobbering as usual.” How do you and Tom respond?

3) Your singer was given four free tickets to a Stryper concert. She takes you, Kevin, and Tom with her. At the beginning of the concert, you see the band tossing something out. One lands in front of your singer and your singer picks it up, “First concert I’ve ever been to where they throw Bibles into the audience.” Tom looks behind you and goes, “And people stampede to get them. Look out.” A horde of people are coming towards the four of you at the front. What do you, your singer, and Kevin say and what do you guys do?

4) Before Kevin goes to Rehab, you, Rudy, Carlos, Tom, and your singer are drinking and having a good time. Kevin has had a couple beers and is drunk. Your singer gets up to get something and Kevin follows. Soon you hear your singer screaming, “Kevin, get off me! Help get him off me!” The four of your run out in the kitchen to see Kevin has her backed into the corner of the counter and the next thing you know he slaps her hard across the face. You have no time to process this before Tom has him on the ground and is wailing on him. “Don’t you ever hit my girlfriend again! Understand!” What does Kevin do and how do you, your singer, Rudy, and Carlos respond?

5) You, your band, and Tom are working on an album when some guy who’s been stalking your bad gets past the recording studios security and comes into the building. He’s begging you guys for autographs, he’s brandishing a gun and saying, “If you don’t give me what I want I’m going to shoot you.”  Your singer goes, “You want something buddy? How about a knuckle sandwich.” Before she punches him in the face and disarms him. Once the security come to take him, Sean goes, “You’re 78.3% badass.” Your singer looks at him and goes, “How can someone be 78.3% badass?” How does Sean respond and what do you, Tom, Erik, and Linus say?

6) You and your band are drinking and talking about your sexual escapades when Sean goes, “I’ve been around the block a few times.” Your singer smirks at him, “With yourself or with someone else, Sean?” Sean glares at her, “With someone else, Smartass.” How do you, Linus, and Erik respond?

7) Fifteen-year-old Cassie comes walking out into the kitchen where you, your singer, Kevin, and Tom are sitting and goes, “Mom, you used to date Uncle Kevin?” Your singer shakes her head and goes, “Yeah, Cas, I dated him a couple of years before I met your Daddy.” Cassie looks between your singer and Kevin and goes, “I don’t see it.” How do you, your singer, Kevin, and Tom respond? 

8) Kevin is very drunk one day and he leans on the wall beside you at a party you’re at and goes, “No one can take me from being inside of you.” Your singer pipes up from next to Tom, “You realize semen only last about five days in the female body and then is dispelled from the body or dies so she’s actually getting rid of you inside her.” Kevin looks at her, “...shut up, BabyCarrot.” How do you and Tom respond?

9) You and Kevin are in the delivery room with your singer while she’s in labor with Cassie and is holding both your hands. Kevin is visibly uncomfortable and goes, “Why are we the ones helping you? Where’s Tom? You should be breaking his hand.” You glare at him and go, “Kevin, man up! He’s across the country performing. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” Right when you say this, the door bangs open and Tom says, “I’m here! I’m here! What did I miss?” Kevin looks over at him and goes, “You missed your wife breaking my hand.” How do you, your singer, and Tom respond and what happens next?

10) You and Kevin are going over to your singer and Tom’s to help them take the kids trick or treating. When your singer opens the door, you see she’s wearing what she used to wear when you went to QR’s first concerts. “What’s with the get-up?” you ask her. She’s about to say something when Cassie runs up to you and Kevin and goes, “Uncle Kevin! Uncle Kevin! Look I’m you for Halloween!” Kevin leans down to height and goes, “And who’s Sammy?” “Sammy is Uncle Randy and mom dressed Chrissy up to look like Uncle Rudy. And guess who daddy is,” Tom steps out at this moment in a 70s outfit that Drew would have worn. You, your singer, and Kevin burst out laughing. He looks at you, your singer, and Kevin and goes, “I hate you all.” Cassie runs up to him and goes, “Doesn’t he look amazing!” What does Tom say to her and how do you, your singer, and Kevin respond?

11) You and your singer come back from having lunch to find Kevin’s car in your singer and Tom’s driveway. When you come in you hear Tom and Kevin talking. “Don’t you dare tell Cassie, Sam, or Chrissy what I did to BabyCarrot when we dated. It was a bad time in my life and I’ve regretted it once I got sober and realized what I did. I don’t want them looking at me differently.” You hear Tom sigh, “We may have had our problems in the past, but I’ll never tell my kids that. They love and look up to you, especially Cassie.” You and your singer know you weren’t supposed to hear this. Do you make your presence know? If so what do you and your singer say? How do Tom and Kevin respond?

12) You, your singer, Tom, and Kevin are sitting at the kitchen table when 17-year-old Cassie comes storming into the kitchen and slams a magazine open to an article in front of Kevin. “I found this in a drawer in your office. Care to explain?” You, Tom, and your singer look at it and find that it’s the article that was printed when Kevin beat your singer up pretty bad with a not so flattering picture of her face. Cassie has huge tears in her eyes and she goes, “I’m so mad at you right now, Uncle Kevin. I can’t look at you. How could you do that to mom?” How do you, your singer, Kevin, and Tom respond?

13) You’re over at your singer and Tom’s with Kevin while Tom is on tour. You walk into Sam’s room to find him...busy. You squeak and he hears you. How does he respond? Do you tell your singer what you saw him doing? What do you and Kevin say to him? Does your singer ask Kevin to give him ‘the talk’? How does that go?

14) Your singer is nine months pregnant with Cassie and you're sitting with her on the couch. You’re listening to Crüe and Tom and Kevin are sitting on the opposite couch. Your singer is gently rubbing her stomach while talking to you and you hear Tom go, “Isn’t she the sweetest?” Kevin responds, “Yeah who can punch a guy out no problem and listens to lyrics like, ‘”I’m gonna break her face’.” How do you, your singer, and Tom respond?

@osbournebemydaddy your turn Bons :) 

#tag game #tag war

[jim-reid]

Welcome to the Drugstore

David Cavanagh / Select 05.1992

Spring hath officially sprung, with all the copious rising of sap that that entails, and in the crisp brightness the shocking explosion of hallucinatory pink that is the Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre is looking even more of a concrete cake mix eyesore than usual. The Labour Party HQ is down the Walworth Road to the left. Some of the Capital's least convivial public houses are within gunshot; there was a highly publicised fatal gangland shooting in one of them last year. And a couple of streets away Jim and William Reid, oblivious to anything but their ongoing symbiotic rock 'n' roll quest and the shadowlands beyond, count The Jesus And Mary Chain into a tasty, fuzzified tune called "Teenage Lust", off their new "Honey's Dead" album. The studio belongs to the Reid brothers. They've done what loads of bands dream of and bought their own playground. Despite the perils of the turf outside their door, the studio's a bright little suntrap in a modernistic red-brick complex, and at least if any of their stuff ever gets nicked they won't have far to go - there's a police station over the road. The name the Mary Chain have given their little home from home was carefully chosen with their neighbours in mind. Welcome to The Drugstore. While the Reid brothers, fleshed out by long-time additional "tour guitarist" Ben Lurie and the recently-headhunted bassist and drummer from Anxious Records grungesters The Starlings, are trying to muscle up the obligatory lewd pelvic feel for "Teenage Lust"s plotline about a young girl losing her virginity, there's plenty of chance to wander around and explore. The loo downstairs, contrary to nervous premonitions, is a model of sophistication and hygiene. Up a flight of stairs, the kitchen is pristine white and user-friendly. Somebody's cut a picture of Kylie Minogue out of a style magazine and stuck it on the wall. There's a packet of Grapefruit & Orange Herbal Tea lying open on a shelf, with some Digestives nearby and - for those occasional moments of ill health -some sachets of Lemsip. The room where the Mary Chain are playing has large windows all along one wall, like a common room in a school. Indeed, the chairs they're sitting on are regulation school issue navy-blue plastic seats. There's a setlist on the wall of all the songs they'll be doing on the Rollercoaster tour, which they're working through. "We're off to Scandinavia next week," says Jim, coming into the control room. "Do, a few warm-up gigs. The rehearsals are going fine but we keep getting interrupted." Yeah, well, sorry about that. Any chance of a couple of hours of your time in that pub opposite? "Oh aye. Er…" he pauses. "Actually, better make it the one down on the road." "Been barred from the other one already, then?" someone pipes up. Jim smiles thinly. So The Mary Chain are back. This ghostly, sullen, black influence on pop's wan youth return to reclaim their children. Or something. Like My Bloody Valentine, whose lengthy absence just made the rumours about them that much wilder, the Mary Chain have flourished in absentia. Everyone from Ride down (and it's a long way down) has paid varyingly intense degrees of homage to the brothers, and specifically to their feedback-drenched 1985 debut album "Psychocandy". Although William Reid, for one believes the Mary Chain will only be fully appreciated eight or nine years after they split ("like Cubism"),their influence has spread like a bush-fire to the point where "Psychocandy" is now loads of bands' Year One. It breezed to the top of most magazines end-of-the'80s polls, clearly still intoxicating listeners five years after release with its seditionary, squalling little love-hate songs. When the Mary Chain formed, on a creed of disgust and frustration, in the appallingly shallow pop climate of '84, they were so shockingly intense that they provoked riots at gigs. At one early gig Jim's voice had screamed the word "fuck" over and over till it was time to leave the stage. The phrase "the new Sex Pistols" was used by journalists. Nihilism. The Velvet Underground. Arrogance. In interviews thay were a pair of spindly-legged naked flames somewhere between the Hair Bear Bunch and Class War. And although they may have mellowed to such an extent that they'll now toss avancular plaudits the way of Chapterhouse and Slowdive, never forget that these two guys were as scary as hell in the summer of 1984. It's been quite a resurrection. When the single "Reverence" went straight in the charts at number nine earlier this year, it was their highest placing since "April Skies" made number eight in 1987. "Honey's Dead" is easily their best LP since "Psychocandy". Everyone seems happy with the way they've leapt on the latest chattery typing-pool-from-hell dance beats, while sadistically cranking up the guitars to new, outrageously loud levels of obnoxiousness and ire. And the Rollercoaster tour, which has them playing after Blur, Dinosaur Jr and My Bloody Valentine every night, scarcely looks like the gesture of a band with low self-esteem. It's been a while. Aside from the "Rollercoaster" single in the middle of 1990 (which turns up, re-recorded on "Honeys Dead") it's been pretty much all quiet on the Mary Chain front since the "Automatic" LP in late '89, while the Reid brothers sorted their heads out. It comes as some surprise to learn that they seriously considered packing it all in around 1990, bored with doing the exact same tour of the UK for the seventh or eighth time and sick of the songs they'd by then played to death. Never the most prolific of bands (four albums in the years 1985-'92) they let '91 drift by until they were happy that all the new songs complied with the rigorously-observed Mary Chain rule of thumb - that "every song we do could be released as a single". The delay has, if anything been a good thing. Now they've got company. It would be difficult to imagine a Rollercoaster tour happening in 1987. Perry Farrell's Lollapalooza idea was the inspiration; he had actually invited them on to the bill for last years tour. They couldn't make it, but they might well be in the line-up for this year's. Their own provisional list had names like Ride, Lush and (planning a tad prematurely here, of course) Nirvana. Spiritualized, current Jim faves, made it to the last five. At the time of writing the bands had yet to meet each other (aside from the odd social drink), and the whole thing had a strong touch of the wing and a prayer about it. "Ask us when it's over." Jim and William sit drinking, respectively, a pint and a half of bitter in one of the area's safer boozers. For two blokes now in their early 30's they're looking pretty good on it. Jim is wiry and intense. Everything he says - even "Anybody want anything from the bar?" - sounds like he's been seething over it for about 20 minute. William is much more relaxed and speaks in a slightly slurred, quizzical tone. They argue good-naturedly a lot, like brothers do, and cynically puncture each other's wilder examples of hyperbole. If there's a joke to be told they both want to be first to the punchline. They refer to each other as "him" and "him". They bicker over historical details like an old married couple. What do these guys imagine the outside world sees, looking in at The Jesus And Mary Chain? "I think everybody's got an idea of what the Mary Chain are all about," says Jim, already seething a little. "But I don't think anybody really has a clue what we're about." He thinks for a moment. "I suppose that wedon't even know." A lot of it centres on their supposed arrogance. The Rollercoaster idea takes suprisingly good care of their audience - putting together the best value show in the least awful venues they could find. Wasn't the feeling before that they were The Jesus And Fuckin' Mary Chain and if people didn't like it they knew what they could do? "We're not really that arrogant these days," says Jim. "If anything we're probably pretty insecure and lacking in confidence. We've been arrogant. When we first came along we thought that you had to shout loud about how good you were to really grab people by the throat. I think we've now come to understand that it's music that grabs people. That was where the arrogance always came in." Did they feel they were on some sort of crusade at times? It sometimes seemed in the mid-'80s like it was them and The Smiths against the world. "We had very clear ideas about pop subversion," says Jim. "We really believed that if you could get a record like "You Trip Me Up" on Top of The Pops, it would seriously change the way people made music. And looking back I don't even know if that was particularly naïve. I think if "Reverence" had been on Top of The Pops (it was banned for its blasphemous references to Jesus Christ's crucifixion) there would have been a lot of people watching that night who would have realised there are other ways of making a pop record than the Kylie Minogue way, that pop records don't really have to be moronic or crass. "That was the idea. That you could make pure guitar noise and be pop stars and be on Top of the Pops. Because why bother doing it for some horrible little crowd at the ICA when you can be on TV playing for the whole country? Music only changes when the entire population of this country hears a noise they've never heard before." He seethes a bit more, snatches at his glass. The Jesus And Mary Chain used to be more of a proper band. Douglas Hart played bass and Bobby Gillespie played drums. "Psychocandy" was recorded as a four-piece. Nowadays if you read the sleeve credits on a Mary Chain record it'll tell you it was written, played and produced in its entirety by Jim and William Reid. Yet they insist on stressing how flimsy their knowledge of guitar playing is, and how despicable and appalling most musicians are. Here they are doing it again. "It took me ages to learn the guitar," recalls William quizically, "and I think the reason was I was never really interested in guitarists. I'd never listen to guitar on a record, or the bass or the drums; it'd just be the whole sound of the record that I loved. I never had any guitar heroes." "Guitarists are generally too respectful to the instrument, I find," says Jim, as William nods slowly. "A guitar is just like a hammer or a chisel. It's just something to get the job done. All that worshipping at the alter of the guitar is something we've never been into. Guitars look good. That's all we really care about. They look good, they make good sounds. You really don't need to sit down and learn to play the fuckin' thing. That would be three or four years of your life wasted. You should be doing a gig the day you get your first guitar." They both claim virtual incompetence as guitarists, although Jim reckons William is the best guitarist in the world on imagination alone. It took two of them to pull off the incredible feedback noises on "Catchfire" off the new album: one to hold the guitar and one to work the tremolo pedal. In fact, Jim was holding a guitar round his neck onstage a full year before he ever learned a note on it -he'd just turn his amp up and let it feed back. The early Mary Chain gigs were thus one continuous ear-splitting feedback shriek from beginning to end. "I think, in the studio," says William, "we're probably the least precious musicians around. If somebody in the studio can play a better guitar part than me, I'll give them the guitar. I'll give it to him," he nods at Jim, "or I'll give it to Alan Moulder (the engineer), or I'll give it too... For instance, on "Some Candy Talking", right? That bass part. He (Jim) couldn't play it. I couldn't play it. Douglas was the fuckin' bass player and hecouldn't play it. We asked all the engineers in the studio can any of you lot play it, and they couldn't play it." He starts to laugh. Jim: "It's got to be pointed out here that was an incredibly simple bass part." "It was," laughs William, "it was so simple. Then we got in a session bassist and he couldn't play it. And in the end Dick Green from Creation Records came down and he could play it. So we were like, Quick! Run the tape!" Jim: "We're producers, not musicians. We'll do anything to make a great record. We've been in studios in the past, with engineers and so on, and these guys can't believe we're serious. Cos we're sitting there with a bass or something, going like this," he does a fair impression of somebody who clearly has no idea how to play a bass, trying to play a bass. "And if we can't get it, we'll turn round to one of them and go, Aw look, have you any idea how this fuckin' thing works? We don't give a shit. If the record sounds good, who cares how it was made? I don't like musicians. I don't wanna end up like Clapton, wanking away at the Albert Hall like some propped up fuckin' zombie. That wasnae what the place was built for." Eric Clapton, for the Reid brothers is clearly Satan. He's always cropping up in Mary Chain interviews as the ultimate example of hideous technical expertise - a man with the ultimate guitar vocabulary, and nothing to say. Jim finds him "disgusting". "Musicianship's about imagination," he seethes, "not technical ability. If anything it just gets in the way. Like, Suicide could easily have been the Pet Shop Boys if they'd have gone away and learned how to play those synthesisers. But give 'em the synths - they don't know what they're doing, they'll try anything - and their first album's one of the greatest records I've ever heard." The man is on a roll. "I wanna see more people start bands. The more people start bands, the more good music there's gonna be around. Most people wait till they can play really well before they start bands. They don't need to. Spend an hour learning a chord or two, form a band. All you need is the confidence." William: "When we were recording "Upside Down", our first single, there was a drum bit in the middle, on the toms, and Murray (Dalglish) our drummer in those days, couldnae play it." He looks incredulous. "It was so fuckin' simple! He kept getting it wrong. So I said, Right, oot the way. And I played it. And, like, Murray was crying. He was really upset. So I said, Well, play my fuckin' guitar then if you think you can do something good with it. Murray... God, d'ye remember him? (He turns to Jim) He was about 16, and his father thought we were ripping him off. He told Murray to demand Musicians Union rates for gigs. So Murray's asking for, like, a hundred and fifty quid a gig, and we're only getting a fiver between us!" What's he up to now? "I think he's working in a bank." Jim: "We did a TV show once and Pete Townshend was on it. And he had Dave Gilmour from Pink Floyd in his band at the time. And he (William) had a vintage Grestch Tennessean guitar that had this kind of horrible coffee-table colour. A classic guitar, you know?" William: "Cost about fifteen hundred quid." Jim: "And Dave Gilmour walks past on the way to the soundcheck and sees him sitting there with a pot of black paint, painting this wonderful vintage Grestch guitar black. Ruining the guitar, y'know? And when he sees what he's doing he goes like this (horrified look) and hurries away. Probably to tell Pete. I wish I'd had a video camera. That was one of the highlights of our career." If they're that bad at playing guitar now ("Oh aye, we're useless"), what were they like in the summer of 1984? What, for instance, was their first gig (ten minutes supporting The Loft at Alan McGee's club The Living Room in Tottenham Court Road) like? Jim: "It was awful." William: "It was not." Jim: "It was, it was shite." William: "It was not." Jim: "It would be easy to sit here and tell you that it was fantastic, but the truth is it was rubbish. We hadn't even bothered to rehearse, and we'd known about the gig for three weeks. We played to about 12 or 15 people." William: "It wasn't like that." Jim: "It was." William: "It wasn't. You don't even remember it. It was brilliant. Every song was so fuckin' deep with noise. You felt it was coming from somewhere else. We were flying..." How many songs would you have got through in those ten minutes? Jim: "About 25." William: (irritated): "No, if you remember, we used to do about four cover versions cos we didn't have any of our own songs." Jim (peeved): "Well, why are we talking about the old days anyway?" William: "Because there's a load of kids out there who would have been about eleven when we did that gig and it's interesting for them to hear us talking about it." Jim: "Aye, well, I suppose so." William: "A lot of people don't know our history. They just think we've been around forever." Jim: "Aye. Fair enough." What, then have been the pivotal moments in the history of the Mary Chain? The lyric of "Reverence" rates as a current favourite in the brothers' minds. Getting dragged offstage at the Venue in Glasgow in '84 and kicked out the back door with the immortal words: "You'll never work in this city again!" was an early highlight. The same promoter, incidentally, rang back six months later to re-hire them. Then there was the mad tour of Germany that same year with Bobby Gillespie on drums. "He had a great time," recalls William. "He hadn't really wanted to join in the first place, because he'd got Primal Scream up and going. We said, Bobby, you've got to help us out here, we've got no drummer, and he was going, Aye, but I'm a guitar player, y'know, and... All I remember from those gigs is I used to kneel in front of my amp all through the gig, with my back to the audience. And I can remember looking at Bobby and just laughing our heads off for 25 minutes. Like a couple of wee kids. It was fuckin' brilliant!" Then there were the patented Mary Chain stencilled T-shirts, as modelled by the brothers themselves. Jim's said "FUCK FUCK FUCK". William's went "FUCK C*** CANDY C***". They had vague plans for a retail chain to flood the nation with them. Jim's still a bit disappointed they didn't get it together. For a truly cosmically crucial Mary Chain moment, however, both Jim and William agree that you'd have to backtrack considerably further, to the days of sunny East Kilbride when the band was just starting. Picture the scene. Jim couldn't sing. William couldn't play guitar. Douglas couldn't play bass. "We were shit," admits William, "but Douglas was ten times shitter." They had a gig lined up, but no idea what to do with it. They knew they wanted to make an incredible amount of noise, but they didn't know how. How did you get noise out of a guitar anyway? They didn't have a hell of a lot to go on. What happened next was true crazy farce. William, on the lookout for FX paraphernalia, bought a Japanese-made fuzz pedal "from a guy round the corner" for ten quid. "Plugged it in. I was using this old twin reverb amp. And..." His eyes light up at the memory. "Ohhh... You didn't even need to touch the guitar. It just went ppkkhhwwhhkkhhpppwwhhhkkkhh!!!" "Looking back on it," says Jim laconically, "the pedal was probably broke." William: "The pedal was broke. It was completely fucked. As I discovered when I tried to flog it to some other bloke for a tenner a few weeks later. But the noise it made. It was almost as if another member had joined the band." So getting a broken fuzz pedal was of huge significance to the eventual career of the Mary Chain? "Definitely," says William as Jim nods in amusement. "I'd say our whole career swings on that pedal." Back at The Drugstore they take a stab at "Reverence". William, hunched over his guitar, is producing caterwauling grief from his strings, but sure enough looks like he only picked the instrument up that morning. The other guitarist looks far more competent. They all sit round the drumkit, grooving away. Kylie's still in the kitchen, and one sachet of Lemsip is now missing. And as you wave adios and leave them to it, and make your way out into the mean streets below, you're already singing it softly to yourself. "I wanna die like Jesus Christ... I wanna die on a bed of spikes." There, as thay say goes the neighbourhood.

#interview

[thatwriterchickrachel]

Mysteries at Midnight - 30.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe; Chat Noir/Ladybug

Characters:

Chat Noir (Miraculous Ladybug)

Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)

Alya Césaire

Adrien Agreste

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Nino Lahiffe

Plagg (Miraculous Ladybug)

Tikki (Miraculous Ladybug)

Madame Bustier (Miraculous Ladybug)

Chloé Bourgeouis (Miraculous Ladybug)

Nathaniel Kurtzberg (Miraculous Ladybug)

Lila Rossi (Miraculous Ladybug)

Additional Tags:

dance au

Ballroom dance

College

Grown up AU

Royalty AU

Language:English

Read on Ao3   [for reliable updates please read on Ao3 I forget about tumblr]

Chapter 1                        Chapter 2 Chapter 3                        Chapter 4 Chapter 5                        Chapter 6 Chapter 7                        Chapter 8 Chapter 9                        Chapter 10 Chapter 11                      Chapter 12 Chapter 13                      Chapter 14 Chapter 15                      Chapter 16 Chapter 17                      Chapter 18 Chapter 19                      Chapter 20 Chapter 21                      Chapter 22 Chapter 23                      Chapter 24 Chapter 25                      Chapter 26 Chapter 27                      Chapter 28 Chapter 29

Chapter 30 - The Morning After

Summary:   A comforting breakfast, followed by a questionable turn of events

Marinette opened her eyes to see a boy with blond hair peeling tape up off the wooden floor. Groggily, she tried to figured out why this boy had put tape on her floor, but it only took a moment for her to snap up from the corner she had been napping in.

“Chat?”

“Oh, Ladybug, you’re awake,” he smiled and she lifted to hands to feel her mask still on her face.

“How-how long was I…?”

“A few hours. It’s about four-thirty in the morning.”

“You’re still here?”

“Of course,” he grinned.

“You stayed with me,” Marinette muttered to herself. For everything he put on to show off, at his core, Chat Noir was nothing but a genuinely good, pure person.

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave you for Madame Bustier to find. Especially with all of this,” he added.

“She doesn’t know?” Marinette raised her eyebrows.

“Nope. Let’s call it a surprise and leave it at that.”

“Um, did you…” Marinette began, unsure of what she wanted to ask, let alone how to word it.

“I didn’t peek, I promise. Scout’s honour,” Chat Noir put his hand on his heart before smiling and walking over to her. He lifted his other hand and traced the outline of her mask.

“Were you a scout?” she asked sceptically.

“M’lady, you don’t trust me?” he asked, mock offended but after a moment he gave a chuckle. “No, I wasn’t.”

“I knew it,” Marinette said with a small smile, looking up at him. Why did she have to crane her neck more than usual to look at him. Since when was he so tall? “Where are my shoes?”

“Oh, I took them off you after you fell asleep. They are next to your bag.”

“Did you… Have you been watching me the whole time?”

“As much as I’d like to say yes and have you think I’m a guardian angel who can always watch over you; I passed out just after you. We sat down and were talking and all of a sudden you were out on my shoulder. I planned to wake you after twenty minutes or so, but…”

“You fell asleep too,” Marinette finished with a small smile. At least she hadn’t kept him awake.

“I only woke up about ten minutes before you to be honest. Figured I should clean up a little to make this a little less surprising for Madame Bustier.”

“Sure. Do you need some help?”

“Nope, it’s pretty much done. Did you know you sleep talk?” Chat added casually.

“I what?” she blanched.

“It’s cute. Don’t worry I don’t know your secrets or anything. It was mostly pretty tame. Though you said my name a lot.” Marinette felt her cheeks burn. “And Adrien’s. If I were a jealous man, I’d have to take him down,” Chat winked.

“Oh, calm yourself, tomcat,” she shook her head, trying to dismiss her blush.

“Well, tell me, Ladybug,” he said moving closer, eyes playful behind his mask. “Why were you saying both mine and Adrien’s names? Were you dreaming we were fighting for your affections?”

“You wish,” Marinette scoffed, pushing his shoulder to get him to back up a bit. He still had that Cheshire grin on his face though so she turned on her heel and moved to put on her shoes and check her phone.

“It’s almost five am!” she cried in alarm.

“Well, I was close. It was about four-ish when I woke up,” Chat shrugged.

Marinette shook her head, changing her shoes and tucking her dance heels away in her bag. She pulled her jacket back on and slug her bag over her shoulder.

“Are we leaving?” the boy was still smiling.

“Well, yeah. We should have left hours ago,” she sighed. Marinette turned off the lights and Chat held the emergency exit door open for her, explaining he was going to leave the curtain up to surprise their instructor.

The cold morning air sobered them both up pretty quickly and Marinette took a deep breath.

“Look, Chat, thank you, for keeping an eye on me while I slept,” she said slowly and a small smirk slowly returned to his face. “If you tell Adrien Agreste anything, I will skin you,” she added warningly.

“Oh, I won’t say a word, Ladybug, I swear.” She knew he was being honest, but there was something in his eyes that was full of mischief.

“I meant what I said last night too,” she steeled herself, looking away from him as they began walking around the studio. “No matter how things go this weekend, we can drop competition and just have our secret meetings.”

“I think I preferred ‘Midnight Rendezvous’ better,” Chat pondered. “Did you want to get coffee?”

“At five in the morning?”

“Well, yeah. That’s why coffee was invented right?” he grinned.

“No cafes are open this early.”

“So, we go to the twenty-four-hour fast food place on the corner. They have a barista there,” Chat reasoned.

“What, spending the night with me wasn’t enough, Minou?” she teased.

“Hey you were the one saying my name in your sleep,” he retorted and Marinette puffed her cheeks unable to respond. Chat Noir just laughed and grabbed her hand as they headed off campus.

She still couldn’t quite clear her head of the fact she had been saying both boys’ names in her sleep. She hadn’t been dreaming about them… had she? Marinette tried to reach out to her dreams that were pressed against the edges of her mind, but when she got to them, they evaporated like a fine mist. She would never know.

“You okay, Ladybug” Chat asked as they reached their destination.

“Huh? Yeah, guess I’m still tired,” she replied. Chat held the door open for her and Marinette stepped in, the smell of stale coffee and fried foods surrounding them as they stood to look at the menu.

“I know I said coffee, but man, if this greasy food doesn’t look good to me right now,” Chat muttered and Marinette couldn’t help but give a small smile. He was kind of charming, she supposed, in a boyish way, and with as much time as they spent together, it would make sense he was bound to be on her subconscious mind, right?

“Hey, Ladybug, have you decided what you want?”

“Huh?”

“Aha, you must still be sleepy,” Chat smiled. “How about you go sit down and I’ll order you something?”

“Oh, okay,” she replied, stifling a yawn as she turned to the empty dining room. Marinette chose a booth by the window facing the main street, resting her chin in her hand and closing her eyes, letting the sounds wash over her. She could pick up the buzz of the barista’s coffee machine and the sound of milk being frothed, along with quiet chatter of the workers but it was all covered by a light guitar tune coming from the speakers.

Marinette felt herself lost in it all, the sounds, the smells and the pale sunlight coming in through the window and hitting her skin, warming her just enough to feel comfortable.

“Hey Bugaboo,” Chat’s voice was soft. “I got you your regular and a small stack.”

“Small stack?” Marinette asked her voice sounding kind of hazy as she opened her eyes. The blond-haired boy was smiling kindly as he gestured to the two tall glasses of coffee and two plates of pancakes on a tray. There were also two hash browns on the side in small paper covers, but Chat was already reaching for them both, biting through them together, nearly consuming the paper between them. Ladybug raised an eyebrow.

“I said it smelt good,” he said, mouth half full of his next bite as he caught her staring. “Hey, if you wanted one you should have said.”

“It’s okay, I’ll stick with these thanks,” Marinette said with a slight laugh as she took one of the foam plates with three pancakes on it. She tugged open the packets of syrup and doused them before taking a sip of her coffee. Caramel latte, just as he’d said. Yet another reason why he was such a genuine, good friend.

The boy across from her seemed uninterested by her scrutiny, instead picking up his own coffee and taking a slow sip, grimacing as he put the cup down.

“I know I shouldn’t expect high quality or anything, but man they need to take better care of the beans,” he sighed.

“I didn’t realise you were such a connoisseur, Chaton,” Marinette noted as she cut a slice of her breakfast.

“I’m really not. I usually stick with the café at the university and my own brew when I can be bothered, but I can tell when beans are past their best by date.”

“Such a coffee-snob,” she added teasingly.

“M’lady, there is nothing wrong with appreciating quality; it’s a trait we both share. I appreciate good coffee, and you appreciate charming, young, blond men,” he dug back; the smile on his face indicating he was referring to her sleep talking.

“I swear, Tomcat, if you tell Adrien anything, I really will kill you,” she said carefully. Truthfully, Marinette wasn’t sure if their friendship would survive if he found out she had feelings for Adrien. It was difficult being his friend now, especially with things like his royal heritage, the move and the arranged marriage turning his life upside down. He didn’t need to be stressed out over her dumb crush.

“Ladybug,” Chat reached out, putting his hand on hers. “I know I tease a lot, and trust me, it’s nice to have some ammunition,” he added with a wink, “but I promise you, your secrets are safe with me.”

His green eyes were sincere, the teasing gone and all she could do was nod her thanks and take a drink of her coffee.

~~~~~~

Adrien stepped out of the shower, the steam around him feeling refreshing rather than smothering for the first time in a while. His night with Ladybug had been better than he had planned. She had danced so passionately with him, it had made him think that maybe his feelings weren’t entirely one-sided after all. The routine danced through his memory as he wrapped a towel around his waist and took a another off the hook to dry his hair.

Of course, they had both taken a break after her declaration, something that hit closer to home than he had expected; and they had just sat and talked. He had learned more about the girl behind the mask, her favourite movie genre, a dream to see a show, the antics of her best friend who was always trying to match her up with this guy… his heart had beat a little harder at that, despite him denying his jealousy. But in return he’d shared his favourite shows, his passion for science and his dream of travelling for fun, not obligation.

It was clear they were both still guarded about the information they shared, more for Ladybug’s sake than his own, but she was opening up to him, and when she had fallen silent and her head had rested on his shoulder, Adrien had been surprised. She hadn’t shown any sign of fatigue before, but then again neither had he, he realised as his head rested against her own and they both had been claimed by slumber.

Adrien was still smiling as he pulled his shirt over his head, he could still feel the warmth in his chest as he remembered her voice, clouded by sleep but still clear as she muttered his name.

“Adrien…” his heart had almost stopped. Was she awake? Had she finally made a connection?

No, he had thought to himself. Her eyes were still closed, her breaths still deep and calm – she was still asleep.

“Chat… needs to be protected… Adrien… Chat… very dear to me…” she had continued. If his heart hadn’t exploded, he was sure it would. Even in the dreams of Ladybug, of the girl behind the mask, she was loyal and kind to him. Devoted to his protection.  

He had sat with her for another few minutes, holding his breath in case she said anything else, but when silence followed, he scooted away from her and guided her into a curled position on the floor to keep her warm before getting up and beginning to neaten up the studio.

“Adrien, you have a visitor,” Gideon’s voice echoed through the speaker by his door. The boy stopped mid-step on his way back to the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth.

“Who is it?”

“He says his name is Nathaniel, a friend of Marinette’s?”

Adrien frowned, removing his toothbrush from his mouth. Why was he here?

“Do I have anything other than the 9am shoot this morning?”

“No.”

“Alright,” he sighed, running his free hand through his hair. “Send him up I guess,” Adrien said after looking at the time. He had an hour. Hopefully this wouldn’t take that long, whatever it was.

Adrien rushed to the bathroom, finishing cleaning his teeth and rinsing his toothbrush before heading back to the door, in time to heard the knock.

“Hi, uh, Nathaniel right?” Adrien greeted as he opened the door. The tall boy gave a nervous smile back, his red hair pushed back, front layers falling back into his eyes. Adrien gave the boy a quick study, dark jeans, facial piercings, a striped cardigan and a plain purple shirt underneath. He seemed normal enough, Adrien supposed, though there was something in his gut that said something wasn’t quite right.

“Y-yeah, hey. Sorry, I know this is kinda strange,” he added as Adrien gestured for him to come in. Nathaniel took a moment to take in the apartment before turning back to him. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I guessed. Come to the kitchen, I’ve gotta keep getting ready,” the boy said, hoping the edge in his voice wasn’t obvious. He gestured for the boy to sit on a stool at the island and poured him a cup of coffee before busying about his cupboards, pulling stuff out for sandwiches. It wouldn’t be as tasty as something Marinette typically brought, but it was his turn to bring lunch.

“So what’s on your mind?” Adrien asked as he began preparing the food.

“You’re-you’re making the group lunch?” he asked surprised.

“Yeah, it’s my turn,” Adrien raised an eyebrow. “Surely that’s not what you’re here about?”

“N-no, you’re right. Sorry,” the boy held his mug close to the table, gripping it between both hands. “Look, you’re close with Marinette, so I just…” the boy took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why you’re being a jerk and letting her put herself in danger,” he snapped.

Adrien dropped the knife he was using before slowly lifting his face to meet his guests. There were so many emotions on his face but the main was disgust.

“Exxcuse me?”

“Come on, I follow the Ladyblog, I’m not an idiot. I know this stuff with Volpina has got to be overflowing onto Alya and Marinette’s designs were published without her permission! My question is why? Why are you letting her stay involved?”

“I don’t think you underst-”

“Do you not care about her?” Nathaniel snapped. His knuckles were now turning white as he gripped the mug tighter. “You’re letting this escalate by staying involved and letting Marinette stay too. How selfish are you?”

“Woah, man. I don’t know what you think you know, but if you think this is my fault, you’re wrong,” Adrien said carefully, his hand a fist at his side.

“You don’t care about her. You’re just using her to get to Ladybug – everyone knows you two have a stupid fling going. I don’t see why she doesn’t see that. Marinette deserves better, she deserves someone who will protect her-”

“If you think Marinette is someone who needs protecting, you don’t know her at all, do you?” Adrien snapped, slamming his fist against the island counter. “You don’t think we’ve asked, no, begged, her to stay out of this crap? You think we don’t care about her? You don’t think I care about her? You don’t know anything. Marinette is her own person who makes her own choices and as her friend, I back her up. Don’t come to my house and chew me out because I’m there for her and you aren’t.”

“You-”

“Marinette is one of the most important people in my life, one of my best friends and if you think I won’t do whatever I can to help and support her, you’re wrong. Plain and simple.” Adrien took a deep breath, feeling the boys glare on him.  “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. I know you have a history, but I don’t care. Marinette is my friend and while she’s in my life I will back her up and support her no matter what; so, don’t come here and project your own failures onto me.”

“How dare you,” Nathaniel spat, voice low. He stood, the coffee cup slipping off the island and shattering on the tile. “How dare you presume to know anything about Marinette and me! I came here because I thought you cared about her, but it’s clear you’re content to just let her do what she wants and end up in more danger or hurt along the way.”

“I think you should leave,” Adrien interjected, managing to rein back his temper despite his shaking fist. He stared intently at the unwanted guest, green eyes blazing.

“You’re pathetic,” Nathaniel smirked as he picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “You’re nothing but a user, and soon Marinette will see that. If you won’t protect her, I will,” he added before stalking out of the kitchen and out the front door, leaving it wide open behind him.

Adrien looked down at his hands, one fist still on the counter, throbbing with an ache and the other clenched tightly at his side, shaking with emotion.

That boy was dangerous, he realised. He couldn’t let Marinette be with that. He had to tell her…right? Would that be the right choice? Or would it only cause more pain?

He felt his eye sting with tears and shut them tightly, but a few escaped.

“Adrien?” Gideon’s voice brought him out after a while. “Wh-what happened?”

“If he ever comes back, call the cops,” Adrien scowled, opening his eyes slowly. Gideon nodded once but didn’t say anything. The boy steadied his breathing. “What’s the time?”

“8:50am. Would you like me to reschedule your shoot?”

“No. Father would be furious,” Adrien sighed. “Go get the car started, I’ll grab my stuff and meet you down there; please just call and explain I’ll be late.”

The man nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. Adrien slowly put the sandwich ingredients away and then made his way to his bedroom before pain shot up his leg. Shards of mug stuck out of his foot, small pools of blood forming. The boy stared blankly for a moment before resolving to deal with it later.

He limped to his bathroom and removed the shards before wiping the cuts with a wet cloth and then putting his socks and shoes on. Adrien grabbed his stuff and caught his reflection in the mirror before he left.

All traces of the blissful morning were gone.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ladybug #chat noir #Ballroom AU #DANCE AU #aged au #royalty au #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #Nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #chloe bourgeois #lila rossi #nathaniel kurtzberg #ao3

[ahnsael]

This is a jacket I recently picked up on ebay for $40 (plus $15 shipping).

There’s also a Walt Disney Animation Studio jacket which I bought from the same seller for the same price:

I’ve also bid on another jacket for $40 (plus $15 shipping, though I could buy it outright for $55 plus $15 shipping, but we’ll see if I can get it for the same price as the other two):

It’s getting too warm for my winter coat (finally), but...it’s still in the 40s when I come home from work in the mornings, so these are nice middle grounds.

And of the two I’ve received, they’ve both been HUGE hits at work (where all but the newest employees know of my Disney past). Plus, while the second jacket was available at The Disney Store, I’m pretty sure the other two were cast exclusives, though I could be wrong, at least on the first one).

I already have a tie with the exact same version of the castle logo as the Walt Disney Animation Canada jacket, so that would be a good tie to wear with it.

My Disney ties and jackets are a small moment of happiness in my otherwise stressful days at work lately (we have a former Disney Store cast member with us, but she hired in right as brown things started to hit the proverbial fan...in Keno especially, but also the behavior of Kurt (the “drama manager”).

Work-realted (not jacket-related things below the cut).

I’ve told her that if she had hired in when I did, she would have had a LOT more fun, and while I’ve been frustrated lately as well, she might hold a better opinion of the job as a whole if she had hired in when I did, when things were still fun.

But she LOVES checking out my ties every night, and has loved the jackets that have shown up from ebay in the past couple of days, so I’m hoping I can be the reason she hangs on. She’s still learning, but has been thrown to the wolves WAY too quickly. But she’s smart, she’s capable, ad if I can keep her mind off the drama (which is hard because MY mind is on the drama), she could be a HUGE asset to our casino.

So I try to help her out as much as I can as I come in to relieve her, and talk her through the paperwork that she hasn’t yet been properly taught (but she’s getting a LOT better at it, and is smart enough to ask if she doesn’t know the answer -- unlike a couple of casino attendants who get it wrong EVERY DAY and ignore the simple sample paperwork packet that is literally right next to their drawers and just throw things together however and hope for the best -- which means I have to fix it when I audit their paperwork on graveyard -- not that I have any desire to protect people whose paperwork is getting progressively worse as they care less and less (thanks, drama manager, for making them feel like doing their job right isn’t important, as they see you ignore your job in order to do magic tricks while ignoring your job entirely, and sometimes TELLING them to do it wrong), for the stress I feel now.

Auditing paperwork SHOULD be easy. I spend a minute or so running a tape on their math to be sure everything is right and makes sense. For a couple of our attendants (and even for Kurt), sometimes it takes 5-10 minutes to fix their paperwork so it will pass accounting’s muster. I literally broke a pen over the past few days because I threw it down on the edge of the counter so hard out of frustration that it cracked. Last night, I just threw down the paperwork. And I KNOW I’m on camera doing so, and I’m okay with that. The fellow manager who saw it, as well as another manager who was told about it, said “I’ve never even seen you angry.”

But...when the same mistakes keep happening, and MORE mistakes keep happening on top of the usual ones, it gets frustrating. We cannot have casino attendants who don’t get their jobs (in one case, it’s a “deer-in-the-headlights” thing -- she used to be wonderful, but now, at the first sign of stress, she forgets everything she used to be good at; in another case, we seriously thing she’s developing dementia, as her paperwork gets worse and worse all the time, and she once fell over at work and at first said she was reaching for an ashtray and lost her balance, then later told another manager that she had no memory of falling at all). From what I hear through the grapevine (unofficial), we just 

Either the manager of their department is ignoring the copies of paperwork with notes attached as to how their paperwork sucks, or he IS talking to them and they just don’t care and are gonna keep doing it wrong since there are no consequences.

And...I’m still frustrated. But when my boss came in a couple hours early when I couldn’t get another manager to cover the shift, we shot the “stuff” for a while as I waited for my ride home. And other than him asking how my night was (which was good -- after our monthly party, the floor was surprisingly clean, and I told hi that the short-staffed swing shift rocked at their jobs last night), we just talked about random things -- his dental appointment, both of our health (we have both had health problems recently, and while I was apparently less than 12 hours from death in January had I not gone to the hospital, according to the admitting nurse AND the doctor I saw once admitted, and I forgot to take my iron pill yesterday when I ate and was VERY shaky in my hands last night as a result, but otherwise felt okay), in the long term his health may be worse than my own.

My fellow grave manager has told me he’s looking for another job. But he’s very fickle. He told me last week that he’s sticking around for the long haul.

He breaks up with a girl, says “the single life will be good for a while,” and then less than a week later he’s telling me about his new girlfriend. And, I mean, I kind of get THAT part of it. If you think you’ve found THE ONE and they think they’ve found you, it would be hard to turn that down.

Even though I’ve been single since late 2008, just to try to avoid the cycle this guy is now going through. I also wonder how he gets so many girls to fall for him (other than being VERY fickle, he’s a good guy, but...I’m also a good guy, and I’m at almost ten years since my last relationship -- when I said I was done looking, and that if something happened it happened, but otherwise I was cool with the single life, I meant it -- but this guy changes his mind almost as often as he changes his clothes). I think, maybe, he’s less picky than I am. I get to know a woman and I like her, and I think of all the reasons it would never work. He says he has depression...which makes me think mine must be MUCH worse, because I don’t even have the self esteem to make even a slight move in such situations.

He’s still got that 24-year-old “I know everything” attitude (which I didn’t reach until 25, but by 26 realized I didn’t know crap), He’s also got that whole “I’m perfect for whomever I choose” thing, which most of us know is the foolishness of a young man.

But...a week ago, he told me that he had no desire to find another job. Last night, he told me he may be leaving soon...which I flat-out told him that while I’ve been stressed out lately, he just made me MORE stressed out. Because we’re already woefully understaffed on graveyard. Sure, I can make it work with two people, but...there may be nights where I’m on my own, with NO other employee, and can’t even pay if someone hits a jackpot until someone else answers their phone and comes in. And that’s a rarity, to say the least (at least since we lost our best manager who was tired of fighting the drama do-nothing manager). But if he bails out on me, right after I hear one of our new managers quit...that’s REALLY going to mess me over.

I’ve decided that I can handle Kurt, as sick as I am of cleaning up after him (I just decided to STOP cleaning up after him, and fixing his mistakes -- he signs out a set of keys that needs three signatures, and his signature is the only one there? I’m NOT signing for him or having anyone else do it -- if he’s too lazy to cover the basics, Kurt can face the consequences, even though history shows that he NEVER WILL face any consequences for anything he does).

If he relieved another manager in a drawer, and never signed off on verifying the drawer? That’s on him.

If he and another person verify Keno balls on swing, but only one of the two provide the required signatures? I’m not signing if I wasn’t there to verify.

And the part that will hit our staff in the pocketbook: he doesn’t sign off on the hours for people who signed out during his shift. I’m not gonna sign off on shifts for which I was not there.

I have in the past, just to make sure our employees are paid. If there is no manager signature on the hours, they don’t get paid.

But from now on, I am NOT signing off on shifts that ended when I was not there.

If they don’t get paid, I’ll look up which manager was working (even though I KNOW who it will me), and I’ll tell them to ask why he is unable to do the basics of his job.

I want to stick around. I have loyalty to this company. But if Kurt keeps getting away with shirking his duties in favor of showing off his amateur magician skills, THAT NEEDS TO LAND ON HIM, not on me for not fixing his screwups.

Or, you know, getting phone calls at home from my boss who gets phone calls at HIS home from our owner when I tell him I asked my boss a week before about a tournament I administrate, and he never answered, so I went over his head. Don’t get mad at me because you don’t bother to support me and I go higher in the food chain to get the info I need to effectively do my job. Don’t call ME at home because you’re mad that YOU (as the property manager in charge of these things) were called at home because you hadn’t shared information with those who needed it,

#work things