#I FUCKING KNEW IT WAS TOO EARLY TO FUCKING CELEBRATE GODDAMNIT

[scarlettroubles]

We finally got topless Gojo guys 🤩🤩🤩

#jjk #gojo satoru #ryomen sukuna #geto suguru #nanami kento #haibara yu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk236 #jjk spoilers #jjk 236 spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #LORD #Well guess im not gonna get to draw goojo in a bunny suit bye guys #gojo stans stay losing #were done. im done #I FUCKING KNEW IT WAS TOO EARLY TO FUCKING CELEBRATE GODDAMNIT

[violentbouncej]

YLEXPOP: Newlywed Game With J2 (Violent Bounce) - Transcript in English

YLE: (to Jani) Your dad (Sami Valkyrie from Helsinki Vampires) told us before the show that it’s your wedding week so we have to harass you about it. JANI: Oh, wow. That is shocking. (laughs) I love my dad but he’s trouble. That is true though. YLE: In the inspiration of that, we want to play a little game with you both. Finland wants to know how well the Violent Pop “It” couple know each other. Is that ok? JANI: (looks at Jussi) Not sure if you’re as scared as I am by that but… JUSSI: (sucks in air playfully) Ooookay. YLE: We were told to keep it as family-friendly as possible. JUSSI: Well. We’re out. JANI: Thanks for having us. (laughs) I guess that is cool, let’s do it. YLE: So in the spirit of married life, there is a game called The Newlywed Game, where you have to try to match your answer to your partner or answer what they would say. You will write the answer on the whiteboard in front of you and show them on the count of three. Shall we begin? JANI: You do know we’ve been best friends for over a decade right? Piece of cake. YLE: Question one - how did you meet? JUSSI: Wait. Which time? JANI: (stares at Jussi) … Fucking seriously? JUSSI: What! It’s a valid question! YLE: First meeting! One, two, three. JANI: Music class in secondary school. JUSSI: Secondary. 

YLE: Really? That’s nice! JANI: We met on the first day of my last year. I had a class with Kivi (Violent Bounce guitarist) and I ended up meeting Jussi when we were put into a group together. We all knew each other in high school except for Ville. The rest was basically history because we literally started dating soon after we met. It was crazy. After I graduated we lost each other for a while and between some unfortunate events, we genuinely couldn’t remember much about secondary at all by the time we met again in our early twenties. Haven’t lost each other since, though.  JUSSI: And we absolutely will not elaborate on that before a festival, I don’t have the emotional availability to go over that in detail. JANI: Me either, all’s well that ended well. YLE: Question two, what was your first impression of the other? JANI: Wow… JUSSI: Wow. After revealing their answer, J2 high-fived but there were a few giggles from YLE and in-studio listeners. YLE: Question three - who said I Love You first? JANI: Me. JUSSI: Jani. YLE: Question four - who says I Love You most? JANI: Jussi, just a bit. JUSSI: About even. After seeing Jani’s answer Jussi looked confused. JUSSI: Wait, what? JANI: You edge me out just a bit. If I say it - say - ten times in a day, you do it at least fifteen. I think it’s sweet. You say it any time you leave a room or we’re not going to be around each other for a bit and I don’t think you notice it. You also text me that you love me if I’m out and you didn’t get a chance to say it before I left. It’s one of my favourite things you do. JUSSI: Oh. (laughs) Yeah, alright. YLE: That IS very sweet. Question five - what is the name of your partner’s best friend? JANI: Mika. JUSSI: Kivi. JANI: I didn’t even need to think about that at all. They’ve been best friends as long as I can remember. (laughs) Jimi (from Cry Tough) is a suitable answer for me, too.

YLE: Question six - where was your first kiss? JANI: Secondary school student car park. JUSSI: Jani’s car.  YLE: Question seven - where was your first dance? Do you remember the song? JANI: (smirks at Jussi) I bet you won’t get this one. JUSSI: Uhh… fuck… (rests head on his own lap) I SHOULD KNOW THIS. I’m a terrible person. Everyone in the studio laughs, Jani included, while writing his answer down. JANI: Summer cabin in Northern Finland, celebrating Jussi’s birthday. Sleeping With Ghosts by Placebo. JUSSI: On a birthday date for me. Song: ??? After the reveal, Jussi groaned loudly while cleaning off his whiteboard. JUSSI: Oh goddamnit. I fucking knew that. JANI: It’s why I wanted it for our wedding song. (pokes Jussi’s nose) Duh. YLE: Question eight - when is your partner’s birthday? Do you know their zodiac? JANI: 1st September. Virgo sun, Leo Rising, Cancer moon. JUSSI: 30th July. Babe is a Leo. JANI: Stereotype as fuck. (laughs) Leo moon, too. A cool, random fact is where he’s a Virgo sun, Leo rising, I’m a Leo sun, Virgo rising. I love that. JUSSI: Ah come on, we need better questions. These are so tame! YLE: Lucky you! Question nine - your partner’s favourite spot to be kissed? JANI: Oh, fuck, here we go. JANI: Hip bones/inner thighs. JUSSI: Neck. JUSSI: You have to get him right here, though (points to the crease of neck) That’s the spot. JANI: (grumbles) Jesus Christ. YLE: Question ten - what type of music, if any, does your partner prefer during lovemaking? JANI: Something heavy. Slipknot and the like. JUSSI: Nine Inch Nails. The Downward Spiral specifically. JANI: (laughs) Yeah ok that is as spot-on as it gets. “Closer” is my sex anthem and has been since I was sixteen. YLE: Question eleven - how long does your partner prefer sex to last? JANI: 2-3 business days with a weekend involved ;) JUSSI: Days. YLE: Alright, boys. Surely there’s some exaggeration? JANI: None. (laughs) We’re both dead serious. There’s a term for people like us but we’ll keep that out of here. YLE: Going back momentarily to nicer questions, how many children if any does your partner want? JANI: Four. JUSSI: Four. YLE: Oh! Well, that is good you share the number! JANI: We’ve talked about it extensively. We are expecting a child in November but we have talked a lot about this since we decided to have kids in the first place. YLE: Do you know what you are having? If you can tell us? JANI: Our child will be born a boy, but it’s up to them to tell us what they are when they’re older. YLE: Finally, question thirteen - to end on a spicy note, what way does your partner tell you they want to be intimate? What code word do they use to ask for it? JUSSI: (laughs) Wait. People need words? JANI: Normies, Jussi. Normies. (YLE Note: “normies” means ‘normal people/boring people’ in English) JANI: No words, just a look. JUSSI: A look and gesture. JANI: I’ll just look at him and he’ll know what I’m thinking. It’s really way easier than having to explain it. JUSSI: The look thing helps but if he’s close enough, I’ll do this - (reaches over and gives Jani’s chain necklace a tug) and he’ll know. JANI: (laughs quietly) Uh-huh. YLE: Well that was relatively painless! (laughs) Thank you so much for humoring us and taking part and congratulations again on your upcoming wedding. Everyone here in Finland no doubt would love to be there to support you but we will be there in spirit. JUSSI: Thank you so much. JANI: Thank you so much. We love everyone here too and are very grateful for all of the support and love. 

[letterstopedrito]

#6

Hola Pedro

My L key is fucked up so I keep having to double tap it to get the Ls to show up lol.

I drank a whole bottle of wine... Barefoot Pink Moscato, because I grew up poor and I'm a sucker for the cheap shit.

I was talking to my husband about you as if we're old friends, as I usually do. He said "Damn you're really obsessed with him." I proceeded to defend myself, obviously. "I'm not obsessed with another man, babe." And he said "you don't have to defend yourself, I understand."

It's funny, because I do see myself as somewhat separate from the hordes of fans calling you daddy. Don't get me wrong, you are gorgeous. I'm a sucker for brown eyes and curly hair. My husband has beautiful brown eyes and I'd even venture to say he's more conventionally attractive than you. But there is a reason I'm so drawn to you.

It has little to do with your rugged single dad characters over the last few years, and more to do with how you appear in interviews. Due to the parasocial nature of our relationship, I have no idea what you're like in real life. But I assume, based on the fact that you can't even be mean to TMZ harassing you about your coffee order, that you are actually a super sweet, patient, kind, genuine, and humble person.

I'm drawn to that, idk. Like I literally just want to meet you, take a picture with you, and tell you how much you mean to me. It really is just extremely nice to know that there are people on this planet like you.

I tell my husband that your golden retriever energy reminds of him if he was a little more outgoing or "flamboyant." Basically if my husband was Chilean/Latino he would probably be remarkably similar to you(r public persona). I'm drawn to that gorgeous rugged man with a heart of gold energy. I really enjoy being around men who are comfortable being loud and happy and silly.

I like how you dance in public, how you take the "daddy" bullshit in stride, how you laugh a full belly laugh and wheeze like an old man. It's just endearing. It makes me love you. It's really hard to explain. Like yeah I find you attractive. If you were just a regular dude I met at my coffee shop, and I was a single woman, I'd make a move for sure. But I have this guy who I love with every fiber of my being, so instead I simply admire you.

I love that you worked really hard to get where you are. I love that you're kind of a theatre nerd. I love that you read interesting books. I love that you drink 6 shots of espresso on ice. I love that you seem genuinely surprised the internet finds you attractive. I love that you love movies. I love that your best friends are famous, but you met them in your late teens/early twenties when no one knew who you were (it shows me that you're a loyal friend). I love that you do silly little projects for charity (community table read, home move: the princess bride). I love that you're a vocal ally and support your sister Lux. I love that you seem politically conscious in a connected way, in a way that many celebrities have been too successful for too long to really grasp. I love that you're real, genuine, humble, kind, intelligent, well read, funny, sweet, whatever.

This is really parasocial brainrot of me, but I just think we could actually be friends, which is why I decided to make my journal blog letterstopedrito instead of just "my existential crises." I know we will never be friends and that you will never read these, but it's nice to pretend that I met you and we hit it off and it wasn't romantic or sexual. We just connected on a level that I could tell you all my problems and inner thoughts and work through shit and you listen and help me through it. It's a nice fantasy I guess.

Te amo (a una amigo)

G.

P.S. I redownloaded duolingo. Determined to learn spanish goddamnit.

#letterstopedrito #6 #pedro pascal

[coepiteamare]

you feel like a holiday

pairing: namjoon x female!reader genre: mostly fluff, a tinge of angst, a lot of mishaps, mall workers  warnings: language, mentions of mild burns, not using oven mitts, lapslock, a lot of mentions of falling because we’re clumsy word count: 5.8k

summary: floral fantasy is instagram famous, not only for their delectable desserts and drinks, but also the absurdly good looking staff members who’d make celebrities crumble with a mere flicker of a smile. you can’t help but fall for the one temp worker who’s as clumsy as he is good looking. 

notes: merry belated holidays ellen @joontella​! it’s peppermint, finally delivering your present to you because i am an excellent procrastinator. this was inspired by my friend commenting on how the majority of holiday movie leads seem to be mall elves, so i present to you...a mall elf! in all seriousness, i hope you like it! i also wanted to add your answers to the character (about your favourite and least favourite part of the holidays) so i put those in here. 💕

the moment the clock strikes midnight on december 1st, the mall changes: it shifts from plain decorations and advertisements into a winter wonderland, with fake snow and garlands and tinsel wrapping every square inch of the mall. twinkling snowflakes hang from the ceiling, a cascade of light fragments spinning over the white, mall floor, and the railing are covered in boughs of holly and streams of glitter. it’s absolutely magical. or so every customer thinks. 

in reality, all the mall workers are contractually obligated to work after the mall closing hours, to file in through the glass doors and haul decoration after decoration out of the mall storage room, put in elbow grease to transform the mall into something vaguely resembling the north pole and distinctly looking like a christmas catalogue display, only with more glitter and more snowflakes and too much tinsel. 

you absolutely despise it. 

to be fair, working a graveyard shift to help “build the holiday magic and festive cheer” was written in the job description when you signed on for the job, in fine tiny print you skipped over as you signed your name on the bottom of the paper, forgotten and ignored in the thrill of having a job that pays more than minimum wage. of course there was a catch; there was always a catch. 

you kick a plastic reindeer, watch it clatter on to a pile of fake snow from your annoyance. jungkook, the head mall—santa’s elf, you correct yourself—snaps his head in your direction, before running over and propping up the reindeer. “oh no! are you okay, vixen?” he pats the reindeer gently, brushing off glittery cotton fluff from its body before frowning at you. “please be careful with the props! all of these are essential to the holiday magic we provide to the children and mall patrons! what would they think if they came into the mall and we only had 8 reindeers instead of all 9?” 

you blink twice, trying to bat away the sleep that’s weighing down your eyelashes and mingling with the glitter from all the ornaments. “that we have 8 reindeers.”

there’s another frown on his face, eyebrows pinching together as he opens his mouth when there’s a loud crash on your right. 

there’s a tall, broad man on the floor, tangled in tinsel and lights, next to a ladder, as another tall, broad man and a short, soft looking blonde come rushing out of the floral fantasy cafe doors. the blonde starts cackling immediately—peals of laughter slipping out of his lips as he props himself against the ladder, doubling over at the unfortunate christmas decoration accident—while the tall broad one (the one not tangled up on the floor), sighs and crouches down to try and untangle the other one. 

“i swear, i don’t even know how this happened,” you overhear tinsel boy explaining, “i was up on the ladder trying to unwrap the lights and i guess i pulled too hard? i fell over.” 

blondie cackles even louder as both of the boys give him a look: tinsel boy looks confused, a little apologetic like he’s done this before, while the other tall, broad one sends him an exasperated look. “yoongi, come help me, so we can all leave early.”

ah, to leave early. you’d like that. 

jungkook lets out a tsk and hands you a box of snowflakes to hang from the roof of santa’s workshop, deeming you high risk to the reindeers, and moves on to the next poor, tired santa’s elf who is—heaven forbid—letting the garland hang an extra inch longer than protocol. 

you shift your gaze back to your right and meet eyes with tinsel boy who’s looking right at you. a flicker of heat rushes up to your cheek, as he looks away, back to the tall broad one who’s trying to untangle him. 

“namjoon,” the broad one sighs in relief when his hands finally find the right loop, “maybe you should try the stickers.” 

“absolutely not,” blondie glares, points to the glass window of the cafe, and even from where you are, 2 stores down and 2 across, you can see the abysmal state of the stickers, air bubbles and stuck together where it’s not haphazardly slapped on to glass. “we are two stickers down and tae is going to have my head when he finds out.” his tone softens, eyes as gentle as his smile, when he sees that namjoon has deflated a little, spirit a little squashed like the tinsel around him. “maybe you can decorate the counter namjoon. i think you’d be good at that.”

namjoon brightens up, dimpled smile illuminated by the string lights dancing across his face, and hands yoongi the lights. he gives a mock salute. “yes, sir.”

you bite down your laughter as he skips into the store, nearly tripping over his shoes. at least you’re not alone in your lack of holiday decorating luck, you think as you reach your hand into the box of snowflakes and cough, a storm of dust and glitter puffing up into the air. 

god, you hate your job already. 

in all fairness, after a 5 hour shift and glitter congested lungs, the mall looks lovely, a christmas card come to life with enough lights to rival a hallmark christmas movie or those drive through holiday light tunnels. if you were a customer, you’d stand gaping at the front entrance too, breath caught in your throat at the festivities. but instead, you’re rubbing bleary eyes from the lack of sleep, back at the steps of the mall less than 6 hours after the nightmare of the graveyard shift. lethargy clings to the edges of your thoughts, smudging cohesion into a whirlpool of fatigue, so you collect what little of yourself you can and trudge your way to floral fantasy. 

floral fantasy is instagram famous, not only for their delectable desserts and drinks, but also the absurdly good looking staff members who’d make celebrities crumble with a mere flicker of a smile. there’s a whisper where you live, small talks through the grapevines, about how the requirement to work there is to look like someone who’d make models cry. rumour has it every single worker has been recruited by a talent agency, only to all be turned down for reasons unknown. you believed it when you first stepped foot into the cafe, mouth agape and words lost at the sight of the pretty workers at the register, but the speculations hit you twice as hard right now, when you’re clutching on to the last bit of your sanity. 

tinsel boy is in front of you. you knew he was pretty yesterday, wrapped in twinkle and catching the light, but he’s even prettier up close, skin shimmering in soft pastels, and you wonder for a moment if he’s actually this pretty or if it’s just an optical illusion, a trick of your mind bending the light to create a pretty ringlet around his head. you almost run your mouth, almost let your mouth run without its filter. almost. 

instead, there’s a crash, an angry hiss of steam, and the distinct sound of someone yelping in pain that cuts through the fog of your wonder. blondie rushes out from the back (yoongi, you think his name was), door swinging behind him. “goddamnit namjoon, i leave you alone for thirty seconds! thirty seconds!” 

namjoon shrugs sheepishly. there’s a grimace on his face as he nurses a palm, red and angry. yoongi rushes over with a wet towel and wraps it around namjoon’s palm, another hiss seeping from namjoon’s lips. “i got-fuck-distracted by something,” he looks at you, cheeks tinged pink, and tries to put on a smile, though it resembles more of a grimace. “welcome to floral fantasy.”

yoongi follows his gaze to you too, blinks twice before a smile spreads on his mouth too. “we’re usually a lot more composed than this.”  

“i’ll take your word for it.” you laugh, remembering last night. “the place looks nice. it looks like you’ve done a wonderful job.”

the cafe, normally in theme to its name as an everblooming wonder, is decked with evergreen wreaths and red ribbons, a brilliant fantasy of lights. the wall filled with paper flowers is replaced with white and silver paper snowflakes, just as photo ready as the people inside. 

“thank you,” yoongi smirks, looking over at namjoon before pushing him towards the register. “we tried.”

“i’m sure you must be tired from last night,” you smile at namjoon. 

“you must be too. i know the mall elves had to stay even longer than we did.” he smiles, dimples blooming. “what can i get you?” 

you look at the menu over his head, the words blurring together the longer you look at them, mind too sleep deprived to focus. “i haven’t been here often, so i’m not sure what’s good. what would you recommend?”

he opens his mouth, hesitating for a moment, before letting out a low chuckle, hand rubbing the back of his neck. your eyes follow the movement. “i’m actually new here. my friends own the cafe and i’m just here to help for the holiday rush.” he side eyes yoongi who’s running the coffee machine with precision and ease, grace in each movement as he fixes namjoon’s mistakes. “i feel like more of a nuisance than of help though.” 

“i understand that feeling,” you motion towards your attire, a bright splash of green, red, and white that’s as cheerful as you are tired. “i most definitely am not as perky as my job requires.” 

he laughs at your statement, a genuine bubbling laughter that tickles one out of you. there’s a sparkle in his eyes—a trick of the light, you tell yourself—as types something on to the screen. “i have just the thing for you.”

you start to fish around your bag, trying to find your card in the mess of old receipts and chewing gum, when he speaks again. “it’s on the house. my treat.” 

you furrow your brows, lips quirked. “are you allowed to do that?”

“i get free coffee everyday,” he shrugs, “and i do enough damage without caffeine in my system. consider it a gift from a fellow new mall worker, a comrades in agony.” 

you can’t help the worry that spreads across your face. “will you be making it as well?”

“god no.” “absolutely not.” namjoon and yoongi speak at once, twin looks of pain on their faces. 

namjoon holds up his palm as the printer makes a whirring noise. “i think it’s safer for all of us that yoongi makes your drink.” 

the coffee is good, coats your tongue in mint and just the right amount of bitterness. the caffeine sinks into your bloodstream, wipes the film of sleep from your eyes, and gets you through seven hours at the mall. by the end of it, your cheeks hurt from smiling too hard, voice a little hoarse from the high pitch elf voice, but there’s a warmth from the coffee that lingers, settles into your bones and stays despite the frosty air that blasts a little too hard through the itchy material of your elf dress. 

you find yourself back at the doors of floral fantasy the next day, still in your bell hat and jingling shoes, less tired but sleepy nonetheless. it’s a little before the mall opens, but the doors are unlocked when you push, a little bell chime ringing through the empty store. the smell of baked goods fills the air, a cozy warmth juxtaposing the white winter wonderland theme, and you take in a deep breath, let it fill your lungs. 

“wow.” you whip around to see namjoon holding a tray of scones and muffins. “you look like you fit right into the store.”

you snort as you twirl, the pom poms twirling as your dress swirls with your turn. “i’m a christmas card come to life, the splitting image of cheer and festivities. though i can’t really say i’m quite into the look.”

he opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a ringing that permeates and breaks the moment. “oh shit,” he drops the tray down on the counter, “seokjin told me to watch the macarons. i’ll be right back” he races off, the back door swinging to the tune of his panic. 

you giggle and look at the menu properly this time, at the pretty penmanship curling across the black chalkboards. there’s candy canes and hollies drawn on the borders and tiny wreaths pinned to every corner, ribbon on the bottom, and you try to match the baked goods to the menu names when there’s a muted yelp and crash coming from behind the doors. 

“i swear to god, kim namjoon! the oven mitts are not decoration!” you hear, and you grimace, mind already picturing the damage his clumsiness has caused.  

namjoon and seokjin, you assume, come out of the backroom a few moments later, another wet towel on namjoon, on both hands instead of one this time. 

“oh,” seokjin says. “hello.” 

“hi,” you wave awkwardly. “i’m guessing this is bad timing?”

“no, it’s not,” he pulls out a medical kit and starts applying burn cream on namjoon’s hands, sending daggers every time namjoon inhales sharply in pain. “yoongi should be here in a couple of minutes if you want coffee.”

“did you like the coffee yesterday?” namjoon asks, hope sparkling in his eyes. 

“i did!” you beam back. “it was good, so i came back to see if you had any recs.” you look at the tray behind the two. “and to try a baked goods. a fellow elf told me they’re quite spectacular.”

seokjin brightens at that, perks up and puffs his chest as he finishes the final touches on the bandages on namjoon’s hands. “you heard correctly! just wait a moment!” he rushes off to the back, and it’s just the two of you again.

“you seem to be catching me at my worst, but i swear, i’m more put together than this,” namjoon chuckles, lifting his palms “how was your first shift?” 

you laugh, caressing your elbows to your body. “it was okay. a lot of happy kids, which was nice, but there were also a lot of crying ones. by the end, i was just ready to go home. i did, however, like the coffee from yesterday and figured i would come back to see if you had another recommendation, from a fellow second day-er to another. it was the one thing that got me through the shift.” 

he beams again, and it ignites a warmth in you, much like the coffee from yesterday, that spreads gently across your body, on your cheeks, on your mouth. his smile is pretty, like a warm breeze on a spring day, like cherry blossoms fluttering gently in the wind. the coffee is good, but you think the reason for the lines outside the cafe, the loyal customers, is partly due to the way the smiles here feel like love letters. 

“i have something in mind for you today,” he smiles at you as yoongi walks in, nodding at you in greeting. “just wait a moment.”

you walk out of the cafe, a coffee in one hand, box of baked goods in another, and a heart that feels a little like a snow globe, glitter and snow gently falling down after being shaken by a cute pair of dimples.

it becomes a routine of sorts: almost every shift begins with a visit to floral fantasy, even on the days namjoon isn’t working, and you build up a small friendship with everyone who works there, though it’s mostly seokjin and yoongi and namjoon you see. there always seems to be some mishap with namjoon when you walk into the store—it’s mostly limited to small things like jammed display doors, smooshed pastries as he reaches for another, and misshapen ice cream swirls—although seokjin and yoongi tell you he’s not as clumsy as he presents himself when you’re around.

“he’s actually quite brilliant,” seokjin tells you as he packs in an extra macaron in your gift box, smiling as you light up in glee. you really shouldn’t be spending your paycheck on pastries, but seokjin’s culinary training at le cordon bleu makes them a little too good, a little too addictive, and has you asking for one (or two) on the days when your shifts are a little too long to bear without coffee and sweets. “he’s double majoring in literature and philosophy, minoring in greek and latin to gain deeper understanding of the classical philosophers, and takes french in his free time. he wears himself a little too thin, if you ask me, but he likes what he does. he’s a sweetheart, even when he’s clinging to the last thread of his sanity, muttering on and on about paradoxes and something about beds.” 

“he just needs to get a better understanding of his strength,” yoongi tells you when you come in after your shift one day, over the hiss of the steamer as he makes you a cafe au lait. you don’t have the heart to tell him that you prefer your coffee sweet after remembering how his eyes lit up as he told you about his barista training, raved about coffee done correctly rather than frappes and awful starbucks beans. the resentment on his tongue made you promise yourself to never step foot in a starbucks, lest you find yourself the subject of his bitterness. “sometimes he gets a little too excited and forgets about things, like how fragile objects can be or safety concerns” he and seokjin exchange a knowing glance before he smiles down at the coffee, blank canvas coming to life as he pours in the steamed milk. in the matter of seconds, there’s a cute bear hanging on to the edge of the cup, and you gape in awe at his skills. “he means well though.” 

namjoon presents himself a little differently than his friends do when he catches you on your lunch break, keeping you company as you eat your sandwich in the cafeteria. “i don’t really know how these things keep happening, but they do. i’m a magnet for trouble like bella swan.”

you cackle out loud and, in the process, almost spit out your coffee, courtesy of namjoon. “i’m sure it’s not that bad.” 

“well, i don’t have a creepy, emotionally unhinged vampire that lusts after me, so yes, my situation is a bit better.”

he looks like a kicked puppy, eyes all sad and tugging at heartstrings. you find yourself reaching a hand out, patting his arm. “there, there. i’m sure santa has you on the nice list despite it all. for not interacting with a god-forsaken, toxic vampire.” 

“good. i was awfully worried i was on the naughty list.” he tries to keep a straight face, hold his laughter in, but it seeps and bubbles out and his eyes crinkle into crescents. “do you not like the holidays?” you tilt your head at his question, a silent ask to elaborate. “you seem to not be in the holiday spirit when i ask you about it. unless, i’m reading incorrectly and it’s just your job you despise, which i totally understand. i love kids, but they can be hard to deal with.” 

you chew on your sandwich for a little longer than you have to, feel it go down your esophagus while the sorrow sticks in your throat. “i like christmas. it’s just a bit lonely on my own?” you put your sandwich down gingerly on to your tupperware. “i think the best part of christmas—the holidays in general, really—is spending time with family and loved ones, but i don’t get to see them very often. not since i moved for college and everyone is busy with their own lives. i love christmas dinner and celebrating together, watching the clock strike midnight on new year’s. i still send gifts to them, but it’s not the same as watching them open it, watching eyes light up and twinkle in delight as they see the stockings and rip the wrapping paper.” you stick a grin on your face, as cheerful as the one you put on for your job, but your laughter sounds weak, even to your ears, and you shift your gaze on to the sandwich in your tupperware, trying to hide your tears. there’s a comforting hand on top of yours, gently squeezing like he’s trying to pass his strength on to you. “i mean, it’s fine. post-holiday depression can’t really hit if you don’t feel the holiday cheer to begin with.”

he doesn’t say anything as you blink furiously, trying to clear out the fuzziness in your vision: he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand, a gentle reminder that he’s there and listening to what you’ve holed up and deemed too stupid to tell other people. 

“maybe this holiday season will be different,” he offers. 

there’s a flicker of hope that burns in your chest. “yeah, maybe it will be.” 

it’s a couple of days later when you step back into the cafe, having been too tired to come by after your shifts, and you’re nursing the desire to knock down every single reindeer and the stupid gingerbread house just to spite the kids. (and maybe see the look on jeon jungkook’s face, savour it slowly. god, his love for christmas cheer and order drives you mad, though you’re sure you do the same for him, every time you slip out of character when there’s a particularly nasty child in line.) you must look as exhausted as you feel because when namjoon turns around at the sound of the bell twinkling, thirty minutes before the cafe closes, he drops the tray and you watch as the pink coffee cups and pretty plates fall to the floor, shatter into pieces. 

“fuck,” namjoon looks at the floor in dismay, crouching down to collect the pieces. 

“be care-“ you start, but his voice cuts through before you can finish. 

“ow, fuck.” he staring at the rose blooming on his thumb, cut quickly filling with red. 

you grab a napkin from the counter and hand it to him, gently pulling him up and aside, out of harms way. “i don’t know if your hands will be okay by the time your stint here ends.”

he snorts at that, heading behind the counter and reaching for the medical kit again. “i’m quite resilient.”

“is it weird that i believe you and don’t at the same time?” you smile at his pout, wincing when it causes your cheeks to twinge in pain. “are you manning the store alone today?”

“i can be responsible! is that so hard to believe?” he laughs and motions to the store. “this is seokjin and yoongi’s baby. seokjin has always wanted to do something with food and yoongi’s always loved coffee, so this is their brainchild. i’m guessing they trust me enough to not burn the place down, or at least try not to.” 

he fumbles as puts a bandage on the cut and you can’t help but smile as you remember the stickers he tried to put on the cafe door. you take the broom from him when he makes his way over. “here, let me help.” he tries to protest but you move the broom out of his reach. “consider it my way of saying thank you for the great coffee recommendations.”  

namjoon’s dimples are back, shining in full force, and you start sweeping, telling yourself you’re focusing on the pieces of china and not averting the warmth of his smile because it does not feel like a sugar rush, like the warmth of the holidays you haven’t felt in a while. you feel something creep up in your throat—loneliness, sorrow, exhaustion—so you force it down and stare at the tiny pieces on the floor, watch the little fragments twinkle as you push them around with your broom. 

“are you okay?” there’s a hand on your arm and pair of warm brown eyes looking at you, concern brimming in the light. you let yourself get lost in them for a moment, let it wash over you before you respond.

“yeah,” you smile, “just tired.” 

he gently takes the broom and dustpan from your hands, and gives you his hand instead, leading you to the behind the counter and to the backroom. “i have just the thing for you.”

“am i allowed to be back here?” you quirk your head in amusement, letting him lead. “better yet, what are we doing?”

it’s strange—to the say the least—to be in a place you’re so accustomed to but have it looks so different than what you’re used to: steel and silver replacing marble and white, ovens and storage racks in place of glass displays case and chalkboards. but there’s still the same magic: the same kind of warmth and care you’re greeted with at the entrance lives in the backroom, with the ovens and fires, with the stand mixers and ingredients, with namjoon flitting around the stove. there’s a tick-tick-tick as the stove flares to life, a clang as it meets pan. 

“yoongi taught me how to make hot chocolate, back in high school, because he was so fed up with how much i loved it, how much i would ask for it.” you can feel the smile on his face, even as his back is to you as you lean against the counter. “it’s one of the few things i know how to make from scratch, albeit a little labour intensive. once you try it, there’s no going back to instant packets.” 

namjoon motions you over, handing you the whisk, and the two of you settle in to a comfortable silence as he scrapes in vanilla, sifts in some spices, adds in heavy cream and milk. it smells heavenly, lingers on the edges of his white shirt. the two of you are so close, you’re scared he can hear the vivace of your heartbeat over the whisking, so you whisk a little faster, let the cream splash on the edges until he gently takes the whisk from you. “wow, maybe you should work here. we could have you as back up if our stand mixers ever break down.” 

he pours the mixture into two orange mugs, topping it with something white and fluffy before handing one to you. “hot chocolate a la namjoon.” 

you close your eyes and let the mixture settle on your tongue, sweet and warm. it settles in your bones, distilling and coating the exhaustion and loneliness until all that’s left is the warmth of spending the moment with a loved one. the effort and time comes through. “colour me impressed.”

the smile on his face is as warm as the drink in your hands. 

the two of you bask in the silence, in the warmth, in the comfort of each other’s presence, as you sip the rest of your hot chocolates. 

there’s an unspoken rule: the closer it gets to your last day of work, the slower time moves, like it’s waiting to prolong your misery. the kids aren’t awful—they get nicer as it inches closer to christmas, too well aware their gifts depend on their behavior—but no matter how many kids you entertain, how many photos you snap, how many smiles you pinch out, nothing makes your shift go by today. you’re so close to throwing down your elf hat and walking out the door, freedom so close yet so far. 

it’s christmas eve and the mall is busier than usual, packed with folxs trying to get their last minute christmas shopping done. you can’t say the same for the santa’s workshop line: there’s a lull like no other, and while you would be grateful, jeon jungkook has been watching over everyone like a hawk, squawking at every elf to “keep up the magic!” just until 10 minutes ago when he left for lunch. you just want to go back to your apartment and settle under your covers and let yourself enjoy the measly number on your paycheck. 

“you look like you’re having the time of your life.” 

a voice comes up from behind you and you startle, relief only settling in when you see who it is. 

namjoon is holding a tray of cupcakes that looks like christmas trees, dusted in powdered sugar and topped with a fondant star, and you “ooh” over them as he laughs. “seokjin was experimenting with flavours and i figured i would bring some over to the north pole.”

you frown in mock anger as you pluck a cupcake off his tray. “it’s santa’s workshop, not the north pole. i don’t even want to think about how much more fake snow we would have to bring to call this the north pole.” you take a bite into the cupcake, moaning as the sugar hits your tongue. “these are so good.”

namjoon blinks at you, looks down at your lips and laughs with pink tinged cheeks. “you have frosting on your lips.”

“oh,” you lick your lips, “is it gone?”

 he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth, fingertip lingering a second too long as he drags it down. “all better.” 

there’s a long, awkward silence between the two of you, seconds dragging by as you fumble to string a cohesive sentence together. 

“do you-“

“it’s my-“

“you can go first,” namjoon offers. 

“it’s my last shift today, so i won’t be able to visit as often anymore.” you try to keep the tremble out of your voice, try to dampen the disappointment as you kick at the floor. “so i wanted to say thank you. for everything.”

“oh.” he doesn’t say anything else and anxiety pools in between every beat of the song that’s blasting through the mall speakers. you try to find something to fill in the conversation, anything but what you want to ask him, when you hear your coworker’s voice. 

“jeon’s making his way down!” 

“i have to go. thank you for the cupcake!” you wave the treat in your hand and start to get back into position.

“wait! y/n!” 

as soon as you turn around, there’s a giant weight on top of you, and both you and namjoon come tumbling down, back knocking against the floor. namjoon’s foot, caught on the wire, pulls out the string lights from the socket and brings a snowman to the floor. the poor snowman, in turn, knocks over the reindeers one by one, like a set of dominos, each one falling to the floor with a graceful “thump.”

you let out a groan, crushed by namjoon’s large frame. there’s something wet smudged against your cheek, and the tray that once was in his hands is now uncomfortably sandwiched between your stomachs, digging into your ribcage. 

“fuck, i’m so sorry,” namjoon scrambles to get off of you. “this keeps happening around you. are you okay?”

when you prop up your weight on your hands, you see that your elf costume is smeared with dark green frosting, the white trim matted together with pieces of the chocolate cupcake. you can’t help but laugh: it seems awfully fitting that namjoon’s fall, which marked your first shift, would laso be the highlight of your last one. 

“i’m alright. you?”

he nods, motioning towards your elf costume. “i don’t think your costume is though.”

“i kind of like it better this way,” you laugh as you start to pick up the reindeers, “it feels much more festive.” 

“i feel bad.”

he sends you an apologetic look, puppy eyes and pouty lips, and something in you says fuck it. “you were right about the hot chocolate. i tried to drink instant mix and it didn’t taste the same. you could make it up to me with another cup?”

something flashes in his eyes as he smiles. “i’ll do you one better. what are you doing tomorrow?”

you furrow your brows, trying to figure out what he’s asking. “nothing?”

“i’m off too, if you wanted to go on a date? most of the city is going to be closed, so we could watch a movie, have dinner at my place? and i could make you hot chocolate?” he bites his lip at your silence, at the way your eyes go wide. “or not. i’m sorry; i just thou-” 

you press your lips against his and put your hands on his shoulder when he kisses you back. it’s a short kiss, sweet and gentle like he is, and it’s over all too soon (you are in public after all), but it leaves a trail of butterflies in your stomach and a dazed look in his eye. 

“a date sounds good.” you tell him as he stands up, tray in hand. 

“tomorrow then.”

you nod, the smile on your face as sweet as the frosting on your outfit, as he runs back towards floral fantasy. 

“looks like someone has holiday plans after all,” your coworker nudges you.

the smile on your face refuses to dissipate, even as your cheeks feel the tender ache. “i guess so.” 

“you know, the first time i saw you, you were wrapped in tinsel because you fell off the ladder trying to decorate the outside of floral fantasy.” you tell him on his couch, over hot chocolate. 

he chokes and sputters. “i was distracted.”

the statement sounds vaguely familiar, mind hazy from time. “by what?”

he looks at his mug of hot chocolate intently, like the surface is reflecting his answer to him. “You.”

It’s your turn to choke on your drink. “I’m sorry?”

his ears and cheeks are dusted with pink, a sunset on his face. “You were so pretty that i forgot i was on a ladder, and i fell.” 

it takes all of your willpower to iron out the smile that threatens to slip through, but one look at his face--at his pretty, pouting face--and you burst out laughing, laughing even harder when he joins in.

“I’m clumsy when i get nervous,” he continues, when both your laughters simmer into giggles, “and everytime you came into the cafe, i was so nervous that i made silly mistakes like burning my hands and forgetting oven mitts. The one time you came in and i dropped the tray? The light was hitting you at the right angle and—god—it made you look like an angel.” 

you hide your grin behind your mug, take a sip before you let him know. “the coffee was good, but i mostly came in to see you.” 

his eyes light up at that, brighter than the christmas tree haphazardly wrapped behind him, and you kiss him, mouths moulding together. he tastes like goodness and hot chocolate and the warmth of the holiday season, like the thrill of opening a present that’s been under the tree for so long. 

maybe he was right. maybe this holiday season will be different. 

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x oc #namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #bwcssy2 #bts fic #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts fluff #namjoon fluff

[middle-class-trash]

Rise of the Titans liveblog!!!

that intro made me unexpectedly emotional

So if Blinky is narrating, he can't die, right? Right????

BRO THE SUBWAY SCENE!!!! We're getting right fuckin into it!!!

Steve, my son!!!

I wish Toby wasn't a constant punchline 🙃 it just makes me not take his character seriously

CLAIRE!!!!!!

Something about Douxie decking Skrael at the first opportunity is just so sexy of him

Jim is incredibly brave but it's really reckless to go hand-to-hand with a demigod without proper armor

My heart goes BUMBUMBUMBUM when Douxie looks out the traincar window

Sexy traincar tracks spell WHO

THE WRECKAGE AWWWW

Oh my gosh the people stuck in the magic circle because they wouldnt get out of the way

NO NO NO DOUXIE NO

So they were arrested that early?? Jeez

Nari's such a cutie

"None of us will be talking to you" *cut to Toby spilling every bean*

TOBY'S FACE AT THE END HAHHAHAHA

Something about Nari's voice coming out of Douxie's body is so deeply odd

Oh hey, Krel to the rescue

AREA 49 HAKSHDKSKD

"And your mom."

Oh my gosh he's still broken from Wizards 😂

The Guardians are just dead set on pissing off local authorities huh

JIM!!!

STRICKLER?????

BARBARAAAAA

Stricklake supremacy 😌 they both look so good

Claire listening in 😭😭😭 she's so cute

AWWWWW ENGAGED ENGAGED ENGAGED

......does that give them death flags? Fuck. Fuuuuck fuck fuck fuck. It totally does.

AWWW DOUXIE!NARI HUGGING ARCHIE

Aja!!!!

Your majesty!!

Oh yikes, here's that running gag everyone was talking about.. pregnant Steve

Oh hey, Eli's hot now. We been knew 😂

"Mazel tov!" HAHA

Poor Jim needing a bunch of support to walk 🥺 he's such a trooper

I will simply pass away if Blinky dies

I hope Douxie is okay, we haven't seen him in Nari's body and that makes me ✨nervous✨

OH JKJK

Nari is so goddamn pretty

"Only your presence, not your commitment" is such a rapey saying

"Abra-cadabra, buttsnacks" I love that he still says that 🥺🥺 he loves his friends so much

"Do your worst" *cue both Douxie and Nari absolutely screaming in pain*

Krohnisfere? Alrighty then, that's the first mission

"I wouldn't be so sure of that" AWWW

They fixed the amulet???? DUUUUDE

"For the good of all..." 😭😭😭😭

"Or I could lock onto Nari and portal us there" *dead fucking silence*

I hate how Toby's used as a constant punchline.. a penny? Really?

TRAINTRACK MAGIC CIRCLE GO BRRRR

Poor Nari 🥺 Douxie's in so much distress

Oh no, the new amulet isn't working?? Fuckk

That absolutely gorgeous screencap of pissed Aja

Part of me is glad Nari was forced to do this and wasn't actually a traitor

Ice titan awakening sequence? Ice titan awakening sequence.

Oh Nari. Oh sweetie

Oh my gosh she's fucking tied to her titan

Boiling water!!! Or underwater explosion, that works too. Much more dramatic but that's Bellroc's style

Oh wow Steve actually has a bump?? What the fuck???

Oooh, TrollDragons?

Charlie!!!

"We still don't have a trollhunter" Aja, honey, not helpful

"Does he even trust himself? AJA, HONEY, NOT HELPFUL

Barbara being proud of her son 😭😭

OOH fusing excalibur with the armor?

Aja is so full of confidence, it's a good look for her

Steve being preggo is..really fucking weird. When they said

AWWW BLINKY AND AARRRGHHH

Your honor, I love them

OOH IS IT SOFT JLAIRE TIME

Ohhhh it's soft Jlaire time

He's always looking out for his mom 🥺

"I will always be here (head), and here (heart)" just fuck me up fam

Charlie!!!

Zong-Shi?

"Only death will come to those who go looking for it" oh dear

"The troll with many eyes" how does Charlie know Blinky? 😂

AYYY this where the banner that I found first is from!!! it was so cool seeing my screenshot circulate when we were starved for content 😂😂 everyone was posting various rott icons and banners that they got hoping they'd find a new one

Oh dear.. government

Blinky dear they can't understand you

"Holy frijole" Claire I simply adore you

WOW THAT'S PRETTYYYYY

Troll slaves???

So is Zong-Shi this ugly ass pear-lookin ass

Aja chilling with Jim even though she has doubts is an interesting strategic choice

Douxie, AARRRGHHH, and Nomura? Talk about rarepare

NOMURA CATCHING HIM 😭😭 SEXYYYY

DOUXIE RESCUING NOMURA 😭😭😭😭 SEXXYYYYY

If I havent said it yet, the animation is breathtaking

OH SHIT JIM

aaaaand here come those frozen wings

Nari cant be in control of herself, there's no way. She's still tied to the titan for Pete's sake

NOMURA????

Please dont let this be a sacrifice

PLEASE NO

BOTH CHANGELINGS????

STRICKLANDER??????

No on-screen death, so it's not real. No on-screen death, do it"# notbsmejelreal

NO ON-SCREEN DEATH BUT IT'S NOT REAL

THEYRE TALKING AHOUT HIM PAST-TENSE NOOOO

THEY RBOGUHT UP HIS DADDDDDD

"There's no revelation I can give you" is a great way of saying he's not relevant, genuinely

Oh wow this guy's freaky

Ohhhh so the green thing from the trailers and promo photos is the Krohnisfere

Archie to the rescue!!!

"That's my boy!" AWWE

"Claire nooo, no no no no YESSS, I'm free!!!" Blinky, never change 😂

Oh wow, they're already in contact with Bellroc's titan??

Different note, but the titan's designs are just different enough to make them interestun

VARVATOS??? Okay jk somehow it's gun robot lmfao

WAIT NEVER MIND HAHAHAH HI BUD

....if the bridge falls, can't Charlie just fly them across

LMAO he just saw his death?? That is what he wanted to see 🤷🏻‍♀️

It's too early to celebrate, there's no way Bellroc is down after just a few pinches

Yeahhh

Oh dear... is Varvatos in danger?

Claire being the warrior of the group is incredible and sexy and hhnnngggg

Toby is a Hufflepuff. I will not be answering questions

OH WOW THAT'S HOW HE BURNED HIS HAND??? THE HONRGAZEL?????

ARCHIE SAID GOODBYE??? NO NO NO NO NO

Douxie's gonna be a flat mess!!!

God, plus Nomura and Stricklander

NOOOO DOUXIE YOU BIG SWEETIE

Oh my gosh this is the scene with Douxie trying to connect with Nari, it has to be

"I need to try again" AWWW HONEY

That shot of Mexico was incredibly stereotypical

DOUXIE SWEETHEART 🥺🥺

He's trying to hold her hand???? AWWWW

Oh my gosh he's being choked 😳

NARI BABY!!!!

The huggos 🥺🥺

Jim being frustrated is totally realistic

Wait wait wait waittt do they have the entire titan at their disposal?

"There's absolutely nothing all the way out here" cue a titan. Any of them.

And there it is.

CLAIRE SUPREMACY!!!!!!!

White haired Claire? White haired Claire???

Oh dear it's like.. a little over halfway and there's so much left that could happen

COACH. COOOOACH

OH THANK GOD!!! Steve doesn't need another paternal figure dying on him

Time for Skrael to fuck shit up 😬

I find it interesting how Bellroc and Skrael's titans are both bipedal but Nari's is on four legs, much more animalistic

NARI, NOOOOO PLEASE NO

At least Skrael's done????

We kinds knew Bellroc was the final boss but NOT LIKE THIS

DOUXIE SCREAMING FOR HER

NOOOOOOO

No more running. GODDAMNIT

The three can no longer unite but Bellroc can still fcuk shit up

A HIDDEN PAGE??? FUCK THE WORLD IS TO BE REFORGED WITH FIRE

THE HEARTSTONE??????

Oh shit, the explanation for why Arcadia's the center of everything!!

The only heartstone?? Really???? That's scary as shit, trolls could go instinct without a reliable hearthstone!!

EXCALIBUR TIMEEE

JIMMMMMM

Come on honey, you can do it!!

Aja, honey, I love you so much but now's not the time

THE HEARTSTONE???? FUCK DUDE

.......Steve

Eli the midwife?? ...gross

Jim, my love, my baby boy!!!

The nine of them!!!

AWW BLINKY BEING THE BEST DAD

THEY WORK TOGETHER 😭😭😭😭

FUCK YEAH!!!!!!

"Quiet desperation" is a great word for it

Are we coming on to the big final battle?

Ohnoohnoohno they all said the thing 😭😭😭 someone's gonna die. At least one more is gonna die.

HE'S DRIVINGGGG. LOVE THAT FOR HIM

STICKY SPELL TIME!!!!!!

"Some sort of stickum!" Bro 😂😂

I love how he calls them all Trollhunters 😭 throwback to the OG show where the three of them were all called that

Aja Terron supremacy

Oh it's weird.. it's very weird. Why did Steve have to be pregnant again

Oh dear, there's half an hour left.. this has to be the final battle

JIM

Varvatos shielding Claire and Krel 🥺

Fuck, man, people are getting thrown left and right

DOUXIE MY LOVE

Oh here we fucking go, rematch

NEW AMULET???

Jim's about to get royally fucked up

LIKE THAT

FUCK

WHY IS SHE TAKING HIM??? GOD NO

Anti-magic beacon??

Helloooo that's smart asf

This gives Mount Doom vibes

"Embrace your loved ones for the final time" FUCK MAN STOP IT

"I already was" DAMN RIGHT BUD

NEW AMULETTTT

GO GET JIM GO GET 'IM

DAYLIGHT ARMOR!!!!!!

He was ready to just sacrifice himself like THAT

DAYLIGHT ARMORRRRR WITH EXCALIBUR??????? FUUUUCK

Jim being great at combat is just the best fucking thing

Oh fuck. OH FUCK.

STABBED??????

PLEASE NO, GOD NO

FUUUUCK

"I'm powerless" "You get used to it" WE DONT HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT

JIM HONEY PLEASE DONT DIE

Is that....is that it?? Oh dear god, is that it????

JIM WHERE ARE YOU

I'm calling it now it's too early to be celebrating

Oh god the weird babies

WHERE IS TOBY

WHERE

NO

MY JAW FUCKING DROPPED

NO WAY, NO FUCKING WAY

HE'S GETTING A DYING MONOLOGUE??????

ALWAYS HAVE BEEN, ALWAYS WILL BE

"Itll be the two of us at the end" WHY DOES THAG SEEM LIKE JIM WILL GO OUT TIO

THERE'S NO WAY TOBY JUST DIED

THHERE'S NO WAY

That was sad as fuck but in a narrative way I hope it's permanent

Oh dear, Jim's going back????

Oh shit

WWHAT IS HE DOING

NOOOOO

"I have cherished every moment with you" STOP IT HE'S HIS FATHER

"I FYOU WERE MY OWN SON" STOPPPPPP

WHAT'S HAPONEINGGGGG

CLAIRE

NOOOO

THIS IS WHERE IM SOBBING

THIS IS WHERE IM LOSUNG IT

"Dont give up on me" FUCK STOPPPP

"I WILL ALWAYS BE HERE AND HERE" FUCK IT STOPPPPP

"I would date you for a hundred lifetimes" IS REALLY BEING TESTED HUH

THERE ARE 10 MINUTES ELFT WHAT THEBFUCK

AND WE'RE BACK TO TROLLHUNTERS?.????

HUHHHH

Fuck, man. FUCK, MAN.

Oh, Toby. Ohhhh Toby

CLAIRE 🥺

ROMEO AND JULIET!!!!

Oh my fucking god

"IF YOUD COME OVER TO DINNER" AYYYYY

His smile at Steve 🥺

HE'S HAVING TOBY TAKE THE CANAL???? But wouldnt the amulet still call for Jim?????

"Nothing interesting ever happens in Arcadia" VERY FUCKING FUNNY

Destiny is a gift. Some go their entire lives living in an existence of quiet desperation, never learning the truth- that what feels as though a burden pushing down upon our shoulders is actually the sense of purpose that lifts us to greater heights. Never forget that fear is but the precursor to valor. That to strive and triumph in the face of fear is what it means to be a hero. Don't think. Become.

.......it actually called his name. I can't believe it actually called his name.

The fuck is that ending??? Let Jim REST

#rise of the titans #toa #shut up charity #tales of arcadia

[bottlecapbaby]

Nuka-World Blues | Gage/SoSu

Pairing: Porter Gage/ Fem!Sole Survivor

Word count: 1255

Notes: My first writing for Gage! No one asked, but I delivered. Might be part of a series because god I love him

Warnings: kinda sexual, but it’s just Gage fantasizing a lil. And just a smidge of graphic violence

Sole didn’t like being put on a pedestal, or made into some sort of hero. In fact, it infuriated her. It’s why she refused the position of general for the Minutemen, ducked out of Railroad celebrations early, and didn’t often stick around to see the fruits of their labor. Even when she was married to Nate— and especially when she was pregnant— she felt this invisible barrier between them. Sole knew that she was flawed, like anyone else.

The apocalypse had fucked everyone, but it had fucked her in particular. Turned into a popsicle, husband killed, baby stolen and turned into an old man, and what was she before the war? A fucking lawyer. There was no skill more useless in the lawless, post-nuclear wasteland than that. So why fuck around trying to be nice anymore? It was something she asked herself quite often. Practicing law taught her that people would jump through whatever hoops necessary to prove that they weren’t animals, when they were. 200 years in the future, that hadn’t changed for many people. 

When she went to Nuka-World, she wanted to go somewhere new, somewhere she wouldn’t be recognized. And apparently 200 years into the future hadn’t been far enough. A potential raider paradise wasn’t what she expected to find, but it didn’t disgust her as she expected. These people were so wholeheartedly unafraid of themselves— of their animalism, cruelty, manipulative tactics. It was almost beautiful. In a world where strength and skill are always challenged, Sole could actually take pride in being Overboss. 

She was, at first, hesitant to take yet another readily offered leadership position. Her introduction to the system of power was with a rigged fight, after all. But upon seeing the raider gang leaders leer and scrutinize her, ready to pounce on any sign of weakness? Well, she strangely felt more comfortable. 

———————-

Gage felt like a dumbass, and that was really saying something. When you’re surrounded by raiders, most of whom can’t tell their own asshole from the next guy’s, it’s not hard to think of yourself as the smartest guy for miles. And usually, that’s how Gage thought of himself. 

Until the Overboss was involved. 

They say don’t shit where you eat, or maybe more appropriately, don’t fuck where you eat. Then again, there probably wasn’t a square foot in Nuka-World where the raiders hadn’t done all three of those things, maybe even at the same time. Either way, it didn’t make Gage feel better about wanting to fuck her. 

When she revealed that she was pre-war, he had no choice but to believe it, even without seeing the tacky vaultsuit she had stuffed in the bottom of a bag. She had the curves, the smile, the smarts, the fucking meat on her bones to prove it. They didn’t make ‘em like that no more. It seemed like every new thing he learned about her made her more unlike any woman he’d ever met before. And with that, he felt more temptation. 

Until it wasn’t just temptation. He’d never admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but his desires had journeyed beyond just wanting to get his dick wet. Gage had told Sole things he’d never said aloud even to himself, much less another person, and she listened. Goddamnit, she listened. The one thing Colter never did (if he was being generous) and the one thing he’d always wanted. And the worst part? She trusted him too. Told him about her own rich history in the realm of pain, torment, and regret. She shed silent tears and he extended his sympathies. He comforted her. 

Which is totally not a very raider thing to do. 

Then came the possessiveness. Gage had never particularly liked Mason (the man looked ridiculous, and maybe Gage had his own alpha streak in him), but he had never wanted to butt heads with him as much as he did now. The predatory gaze that subtly raked up and down Sole’s body was not so subtle to Gage. He had to watch her back after all, especially if someone else had their eyes on it. Mags was irritating in her own way before, but her and William’s attempts at getting in the Overboss’s good graces via seduction were infuriating now. Hell, even the rare trade of sadistic smiles with Nisha got him riled up and pissed off at times. 

Then? There was the yearning, and this was when Gage knew he was well and truly fucked. At first, his daydreams were of Sole looking up at him while she sucked his cock, how her ass would feel on his hands when he held her against the wall and fucked her until she screamed. Then, how she would look when she came, and how she would beg for him to touch her. Then, how her sleepy weight would feel across his chest, how her smaller, less calloused hands would feel entwined with his. When you’re nutting at the image of someone looking up at you with a lovelorn, adoring gaze, it isn’t about the sex anymore. 

So there he was, sitting around like a trained dog at the Fizztop, methodically cleaning his guns and patching up his armor, all while Sole slept just a little ways away. Despite having been asleep for 200 years, she liked to take these afternoon naps. Another thing that, in the eyes of the rookie raiders in the park, made her too soft to be Overboss. She didn’t worry about it. Those who were important knew her strength. She welcomed challenges from the greenhorns, she itched to make examples of them at times. It was that mean streak that kept her popular with the people who were smart enough to stay out of her damn way. 

When Colter was around, Gage fucked off pretty much every time he passed out. Wasn’t his problem if the boss got stabbed in the back while he was out cold, not really, not when Colter was as shitty a boss as he was. But the idea of someone sneaking in while Sole was at her most peaceful, most vulnerable? Well, realistically she would use that nasty, freakish blade she kept at her side at all times to pry their ribcage open, but the alternative still twisted up Gage’s guts with worry. So he stayed. If loyalty was a disease, Gage had it terminal. 

The radio was on— low volume so as not to disturb sleeping beauty, but still on. But the old raider wasn’t really listening. He’d long since tuned out to focus on Sole’s quiet huffy breathing. Occasionally he’d look over his shoulder at her, and for much longer than he’d ever admit. Her tousled hair was splayed in a halo against the pillow, curling against her cheek. 

Oh, to share that bed and feel her warm, soft body against him. To know her touch— carnally, tenderly, whatever way she would give it to him. Him, an old raider, scarred to fuck, missing an eye, teeth rotten, and just generally not a nice guy. Her, a pre-war relic with a penchant for animalistic truthfulness and violence that made her a perfect fit for Overboss. Evidence of a time oft romanticized, and proof that it wasn’t all that great. To those in the Commonwealth, her good looks and good deeds made her the very embodiment of old world blues, in every sense of the phrase. To Gage, she wasn’t afraid to be fucked up and wrong, and that’s what made her so right. 

#writing #drabble #nsft #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #porter gage #gage x sosu #graphic violence #just a tiny bit tho #gage x sole survivor

[romancingromanoff]

Pride and Joy (Natasha x f!reader)

Author’s note: Pride is first and foremost a celebration we are privileged to have because of the bravery and sacrifices of so many. It was black trans women that lead the Stonewall Riots back in 1969 and yet black trans women remain some of the most vulnerable in our community. We need to step up. I’ve linked some petitions and places where you can donate at the end of this post so please, please, please, don’t ignore them.

Plot: Two gay girls head to Pride and you end up gaining some attention. Also this one is super cheesy but I’ve just got to accept that cheesy is my go-to style ugh. I also used she/her/hers pronouns for this one but if you’d like for me to do gender-neutral or use any other sort of pronouns just let me know and I’d be glad to do so :)

The cafe door swung open again and two new voices came under her radar.

“I’m telling you, every year this is THE spot to pick up cute femme girls.”

“I’m sorry, but did you miss the group of straight white frat boys obnoxiously ingesting natty light across the street?! They’re completely killing the vibe. Honestly, it should be a crime for the straights to show up here.”

“No, that’s the point,” the first person began to explain before lowering their voice to only a few notches above a whisper. “Brad and Chad over there hit on the stray femme girls with the whole ‘Oh, you just haven’t been with the right guy yet’ spiel and then try to convince them that they can change their mind. That’s when we step in, put them in their place, bruise their masculinity a bit, and ba-da-bing ba-da-boom, you’re the hero and you get to sweep her off her feet.”

“Jen, you’re a genius.”

“I know that’s what I’ve been telling you! Now buy me some iced coffee cause I’m broke.”

It was an solid plan that the pair of friends obviously didn’t want anyone else to overhear. Fortunately for them, Natasha couldn’t care less. As she continued to sit there sipping on her tea, no one would suspect that she was a former assassin casually eavesdropping into every individual conversation going on. It was technically her day off, but hey, she had time to kill while she was waiting and not much to entertain herself with. So Natasha silently applauded the two and continued on with her crossword puzzle. 

The parade wasn’t normally her scene, but the redheaded avenger knew she just couldn’t say no to her girlfriend who was ecstatic about her first Pride. 

“Nat, pleeeeeeeassee???” You had begged her all the way up till the night before to go with you. “I was kidding with the matching shirts. You don’t have to wear it, just please come.”

“Fine,” she gave in with a playful roll of her eyes. “But just so you know, it’s going to be crowded, loud, and you’re going to get pretty sweaty. I know you want to wear those rainbow slip-ons Bucky got you for Christmas but please don’t. They offer zero support for your arches.”

Natasha then continued to lecture you on safety 101. Don’t put your phone in your back pocket, blah blah, don’t wear a backpack, blah blah blah. It was a lot to follow just to make sure your paranoid girlfriend didn’t have to worry about you, but you knew it was all out of love. Unfortunately, the one thing you’d forgotten about before leaving the house was going to the bathroom, which is why the two of you had made a pitstop at a small corner cafe.

“The girl who just came out of the bathroom,” the voice that belonged to Jen almost caused Natasha to jolt. “See what I mean?”

“Yeah, she’s cute,” the other one woefully confirmed that they were, indeed, talking about her girlfriend.

You were dressed down in a white “Love is Love” t-shirt that sported two rainbow stick-women holding hands under a rainbow. It was supposed to go with Natasha’s matching black one but she was very against supporting capitalist corporations that sought to make money off of Pride Month merchandise. The rest of your outfit’s ensemble consisted of your favorite pair of shorts and some comfy white sneakers but the real show-stopper was your hair. It had taken hours of braiding to weave your hair so intricately into the flower crown that had taken even longer to craft. You were excited to show off your DIY project you’d had pinned on Pinterest for the last few years even if Nat hadn’t understood the hype.

“Sweetheart, you’re putting hours of work into this thing. I know you like doing it but we can just buy you one and save you the trouble.”

“That’s not the point, Nat,” you sighed never looking up from the hot glue gun you were trying to wield. “I get that I might not be super gifted when it comes to creative things like this but I’ll just feel proud of myself knowing I did it when it’s all put together.”

And right now, Natasha was really wishing she had pushed back harder and gone with the store-bought crown because you were standing there looking like a woodland fairy princess with your bubblegum lipgloss and GODDAMNIT why did her girlfriend have to be so freakin adorable all the time!?? 

You were still searching the crowd as Natasha’s blood began to boil. Jealousy urged her to march straight up to you and begin making out, claiming you as hers in front of everybody. Then the two of you would storm out of there, confront the gross heteros that would undoubtedly hit on Y/N, she’d beat them up and it’d be a solid victory for the badass super spy. A possible bonus could be that you get too frazzled and end up going home early.

But then she hesitated thinking that maybe you wouldn’t appreciate that. “No,” she thought to herself and calculated a better plan. “That’s possessive, gross, and directly from the straight male playbook. I love Y/N. I respect her. And holy fuck I guess I really am just gonna do this.”

Nat’s eyes ironically enough lit up at that same moment when you finally spotted her and waved eagerly with a giant smile on your face. She wasn’t too ecstatic about what she knew she had to do, but she knew it would make you happy.”

“Hey babe!” you greeted her with your full attention. It was clear from your demeanor that you were oblivious to the fact Jen and quite possibly many others were checking you out. “I’m ready to go now.”

“Actually, I think I might have to go too, but wait here,” Nat casually mentioned before slipping into the bathroom. That caught you off guard and you figured something was going on. Natasha never had to go to the bathroom. I mean, she did have to go, obviously, but it was never random and certainly never in public restrooms. Your anxiety began climbing as you went through all the scenarios in your head. Could it be that something was about to go down? You were sure that she had it handled but it bothered you slightly that she hadn’t told you ahead of time. Unless it was something more serious and urgent? There was that one time you two had gone on a day cruise but ended up getting airlifted out of the ocean when Nat ran into some Serbian gun traders. Your stomach was doing flips out of fear that you all might be in danger as you hesitantly knocked on the door.

“Nat, is everything okay?” you shook. “I don’t want to stress you out if you have some important stuff to do, but I am a little worried that-”

Door swung open and there she stood: Your gorgeous girlfriend, NOT suited up, but in fact wearing the matching black t-shirt.

“Seriously?! You know that you almost gave me a heart attack over here!” you half cry half beam with joy at the sight of your girlfriend laughing hysterically at you.

“I know and I’m sorry babe,” she kissed you sweetly on your forehead. “But these girls over there were checking you out and I had to make a quick change into this.”

“But you actually brought it? Sam didn’t have to do like a fly-by and drop it off to you in super stealth mode?”

Her reaction to your question was too good. “No, of course I brought it. We used the same bathroom right? You know there’s no window in there. How would Sam even be able to-”

You interrupt her with a quick peck on the lips. “Shut up and stop making me feel dumb, I’m just touched that you brought it and have it on now. We’re gonna get such great couple photos!”

“Oh shit, they’re definitely together,” Natasha could overhear Jen’s friend comment from across the cafe.

“I mean that sucks but also they make such a cute couple!” Jen unknowingly complimented the two which made Natasha laugh quietly to herself. She really had no reason to feel threatened or insecure about her relationship. Y/N was an amazing girlfriend and if there were any areas of improvement then they’d probably be on Natasha’s side. The spy then made a mental note to show appreciation for her more before remembering another detail.

“Actually, do you mind going out the back door? There’s just a sleazy group of straight guys out there hitting on women that I don’t care to run into.”

“Ew, let’s definitely do that,” you agreed wholeheartedly. “You know guys like that deserve to be put in their place.”

“Don’t encourage me,” Nat bit her bottom lip, ever-so tempted. “Because I was considering that at first.”

“No,” you grabbed her arm twisting her back around to you. “We should go over there and see if they actually have the nerve. And if they do, you beating them up honestly sounds super hot right now.”

“Wait, I thought you didn’t condone violence,” Nat raised an eyebrow at your proposition.

“Normally I don’t. But you’d look so cute doing it in our matching t-shirts!”

Nat rolled her eyes, smiling, thinking of how proud she was of her girlfriend.

LINKS

Petition for Justice for Tony McDade: https://www.change.org/p/justice-for-tony-mcdade

GoFundMe for Tony McDade's Funeral and Family: https://www.gofundme.com/f/in-memory-of-tony-mcdade

Petition for Justice for Dominique Fells: https://www.change.org/p/philadelphia-police-department-justice-for-dominique-fells

GoFundMe for Dominique Fells' Funeral Costs: https://www.gofundme.com/f/dominiquefells

Petition for Justice for Riah Milton: https://www.change.org/p/liberty-townships-board-of-trustees-justice-for-riah-milton-womanmurdered-in-liberty-township-ohio

#natasha romanoff #natasha #natasha x reader #natasha x you #reader #reader insert #the avengers #black widow #fanfi #fluff #cheesy #pride #i'm not that good of a writer

[overcompensate]

home is just a room full of my safest sounds

It’s the third time this week that he’s found himself gripping the ceramic of the sink countertop in the bathroom/kitchen/laundry of Monmouth Manufacturing. It’s not morning yet and not really night anymore, and every breath he takes sends pain down his spine. Ronan Lynch is misshapen words and broken bones and anger meshed into a skin that doesn’t fit quite right.

Most days he fills the emptiness gaping in his chest with alcohol and pills and the squeal of rubber tires against asphalt. It’s the third time this week that he’s found himself retching into the toilet; the world outside him still, silent. Chainsaw pecks at the one of the metal bars of her cage and he can feel the sound ringing in his mind.

Third time this week, Gansey stands just outside the bathroom/ kitchen/ laundry, forever awake, forever standing one door away from Ronan, his hand the shape of a knock, his lips the shape of pity. Outside, Gansey leaves. Today, he will let Ronan fight his own demons. He will let Ronan drink himself to death if that’s what he wants to do. Inside, Ronan passes out on the floor.

***

Sixteen was the age that he went to too many parties. His mother was alive and worried. At sixteen he made out with girls he didn’t like and watched boys he liked from far away. At sixteen his mind was too loud and the lights in the room were too damn bright, and he had to get out, damn it.  

He ended up on the roof. It was cold and the wet air whipped at his face. Ronan thought he might kill himself that very day, jump off the roof and let himself be carried far off. At sixteen he felt that kind of itch often, it was always easier to leave before things got too hard.

The priest had dedicated last week’s sermon to afterlife, and Ronan thought about the devil in his backyard and felt himself slipping further from heaven. And then, because he was scared and his ears were ringing, Ronan pulled out his phone and called Gansey.

It was Adam who picked up.

Ronan felt cold slide down his spine.

“Ronan? There better be good reason to this.”

“I- fuck.” Ronan checked the caller’s ID. He had accidentally called trailer-boy. Ronan thought sand eyelashes and freckles. He thought wrists and bruises and greased overalls. The devil smiled, Ronan slipped more. “I’m at Kavinsky’s place.” Silence. Ronan felt himself jumping off the roof. “Please.”

Adam arrived soon after. He was out of breath. Blue-green spread out from below his right eye to his nose. Downstairs the party raged. Now that Adam stood this close, Ronan felt stupid for calling him.

“Why’d you call me?”

Ronan grinned, wild. “Why’d you come?” The air whipped, wilder. Neither of them spoke. Adam shifted his weight from one foot to another, uncomfortable. That had shut him up.

It was Ronan who spoke next. “How long are you gonna let him do that?”

Adam’s fingers went to the bruise staining his face, Ronan watching closely. “However long it takes for me to graduate.”

“However long it takes for me to graduate.” He snickered. “However long it takes for him to kill you, more like.”

“If you called me here just to be a condescending brat, I’ll be on my way. I have work early.” Adam crossed his arms, a timid impersonation of anger.

Ronan leaned back at the railing. “Get your head out of your ass, trailer trash. If you must know, I called you here because I was contemplating jumping off. As in killing myself. As in not caring about your dickhead of a father and how you refuse to let yourself leave,” Ronan spits out. He said it more for the dramatics, because everything he says has to be one big ha-ha joke, a punch or a smirk. He says it before anyone can catch him caring, makes it a snide remark before it becomes serious.

Adam tensed and Ronan knew he had hit a nerve. Downstairs, the song changed to a slower one.

“Fuck you, Lynch,” Adam spat. He stormed past Ronan.

Ronan smiled wider.

***

“Lynch. Lynch. Ronan. Calm yourself, princess.”

The lights keep flashing. Blue. Red. Blue again. Fourth July can go fuck itself, Kavinsky was celebrating himself tonight.

Kavinsky with all the bravado of a drunk seventeen year old hit Ronan across the face. “You done being a fuckin’ pussy now?”

For about twenty seconds Ronan stared at his hands, which he noticed were shaking. Ronan shook his head. His cheek throbbed. “Not yet.” He brought his fist down on Kavinsky’s nose, smirked like he had done him a favor. “You can continue now,” he said, the picture of nonchalance, as if he hadn’t come stumbling and stuttering Joseph Kavinsky’s name like a prayer. His father’s brains painted the driveway to the Barns red. Ronan didn’t know what to do with himself at nights. He tried to remember why he came here.

“Goddamn. Goddamn.” Kavinsky put his fingers to his nose, licking the blood that had flown onto his lips. “Goddamnit Lynch, did daddy not give you your pills today? Damn, that hurts, goddamn it.” And then, like he only now realized that words other than various combinations of god and damn exist, he shoved Ronan by the shoulders. “I’m gonna put a fuckin’ ban on you man, why’re you coming to my parties and punching me in the goddamn face?”

Ronan merely shrugged.

“Yeah, Lynch, act like you didn’t come in here sobbing like a fuckin’ baby. Gansey, oh Gansey, wherefore art thou Dick? I wish to hop on it. Or is it trailer-boy you’re fucking these days?” He snorted unattractively. Yeah. That’s why he came here: Because Kavinsky simplified everything to a few incorrectly quoted lines and an innuendo, because Kavinksy was superficial and idiotic and. And.

And he had drugs.

“Ha- fucking- ha. Take a medal for you’re a-grade Shakespeare skills, Joseph.” Kavinsky flashed him a smile. “You know what I’m here for. Give me the stuff so I can leave.”

Ronan passed out that night with his clothes off on Kavinsky’s floor, his nose burning.

***

They lay in Ronan’s parents’ bed in the barns; skin sticky and hearts thudding, coming down from the high but not enough for the world to make sense yet. In these moments of unguarded love Ronan would admit he wants to kiss every freckle on Adam’s shoulder. Ronan would let himself look at Adam’s eyes, his lips, his hands, at Adam without red-hot shame running down his spine.

Here was Adam; skin glowing golden in the setting sun, head back, neck arched. Here was Adam; fingers running lazy spirals across his tattoo, eyelashes brushing cheekbones, mouth parted. Here was Adam unwary, Adam perfect and peaceful and—

“I don’t deserve you.” The words are out before Ronan can stop them. His neck goes red.

Adam laughs, slow and easy. “Yeah? Why d’you think that?”

“Just do.” The red travels to his shoulders. “You want a fucking essay?”

“I’m good. Just strange for you to say that, that’s all.” Strange of you to say that. Ronan toys with the words in his mind: strange as in Adam disagrees? Strange as in Adam might even say the same for him?

He shifts to press his mouth against Adam’s skin. “You’re just too damn perfect, that’s all.”

Adam lifts his head up just enough to look at Ronan through half-lidded eyes, his eyebrows raised. He laughs, quietly, and falls back with a thud. Ronan flushes three shades darker. “So are you, you know,” Adam says. “Like I can’t ever tell you properly, but you really are.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty dang great.”

Adam laughs again. Ronan crawls up till his head is on Adam’s shoulder and falls asleep like that; fingers buried in his hair, his cheek warm where it touches Adam’s skin.

***

They fall into patterns after the Second Death. There’s mornings in the barn where Adam would be gone to work or school before Ronan even had the time to blink the sleep out of his eyes. Some mornings Adam would stay back and they’d sit on the porch steps while Opal would run in the knee high grass of the fields. In the evenings those who went to school would do their homework on the floor of Monmouth. Ronan would sit in his bedroom and let it all wash over him.

He told himself it was comfort, this everyday normalcy. That it’s okay they weren’t talking, even if they were fucking traumatized, and that it’s okay Adam pulls away from him and wears seventy layers of clothing every day and that they all have the same ghost look in their eyes. They are fine. He chants it to himself like a mantra. Fine. Fine. Fine.

One night they’re lying there on the couch: Ronan on one end, Adam on the other. Adam’s doing that thing where he watches his hands for hours on end, flexing and unflexing them, turning them one way and the other, reminding himself that these are his hands, and Ronan’s doing that thing where he watches Adam for hours on end trying to remember when he got replaced by this skeleton.

The clock ticks from the hallway. Ronan snaps. “Can you fucking stop?” His voice comes out harsh. Adams backs away from his own hands, blinking.

“I’m—I’m sorry. Sorry.” He puts his hands on his lap, and then on second thoughts, he sits on them instead. “Sorry.” He looks small, pitiful. His eyes sunken into hollows, and from where Ronan sits he can count about three sweaters on him even though it's just the middle of September.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Goddammit, why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” He reaches forward and touches Adam on the shoulder, a ghost of a touch, but Adam snaps backwards like he’s been punched. “See what I mean? Why can’t I touch you anymore, Adam? Why don’t you just leave if you hate me so much?” Ronan’s voice is pleading and his eyes are wet.

“Because I almost killed you, that’s why. Don’t you remember? Or did you make yourself forget that part?” Adam’s words come out in heaving sobs and he’s rocking himself back and forth. “I almost killed you Ronan, I’m a monster, I almost killed you, I almost. Fucking. Killed. You.”

They’re both crying, and it’s all a mess and really, Ronan at any other point in time and history would have just gotten up and left, but he needs to fix this. He reminds himself he’s fine, and he breathes even though he’s still crying.

Ronan Lynch is a creature of great wonder and bad chosen words. He walks towards Adam and kneels to where he’s sitting, takes both his hands in his and places them on his neck. Adam’s fingers tremble against Ronan’s throat, and Ronan can barely get words out between all the tears but he keeps saying it again and again to Adam. “I’m not afraid, it wasn’t your fault. I love you. I love you. Iloveyou.”

#this is a mess #i am a mess #i love trc #crits appreciated but pls dont roast me #trc #the raven cycle #the raven boys #the raven king #blue lily lily blue #the dream thieves #ronan lynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch's hand kink #or at least if you squint #pynch #someone kill me before gcses #maggie stiefvater #trc fanfiction #fanfics

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 34

read chapter one

read on ao3

Like Father, Like Son: The Apple Didn’t Fall Far from the Scheming Tree

Byline: Victor Aldertree

Magnus Bane, son of notorious Asmodeus Bane, who is currently serving thirty seven years in state prison for defrauding his clients and shareholders of over one billion dollars in assets, has been spotted out on the town with music’s darling, Alec Lightwood.

Is it love, though, or has Magnus just found a different way to make his fortune?

Dear reader, we at Idris News love good gossip and when a source close to Bane came forward to tell us about the hottest tip in town, we couldn’t resist.

It appears that Magnus Bane, professor at Columbia University, has been hiding an unsavory past.

An insider reveals all. To protect her privacy, she asked that we not reveal her name.

Let’s start the story with one Magnus Bane. Born and raised in Manhattan-- on the upper West Side-- Magnus is the son to notorious swindler Asmodeus Bane.

Bane, who is infamous for his unbelievably successful ponzi scheme that stretched over twenty years.

Asmodeus Bane was a wall street broker from 1980 to his long tumble from his gold-plated pedestal in 2004. Considered far and wide to be a charismatic man, Bane Sr. was a shark on Wall Street, known for having a bloodhound’s nose, always sniffing out the Next Big Thing.

Most accredited his success to sheer luck and hard work.

No one knew that he was swindling coworkers and clients alike out of savings accounts, retirement plans, and talking up potential investments that would become a long string of proverbial gold mines in the Old West.

No one knows for certain just how much money Asmodeus Bane absconded with when all is said and done. Working for twenty years afforded him connections and a sharpened sense of when the chips were about to fall. There were dozens of accomplices and just as many scapegoats as Bane kept his nose clean even as those closest to him were caught and indicted.

Bernie Madoff who? Some estimates have Bane’s scheming amounting to over one billion dollars, most of which has never been recovered.

In 2000, the FDIC launched an investigation with the White Collar division of the FBI. After four years, they accumulated enough evidence to formally arrest Asmodeus Bane of over one hundred counts of fraud and embezzlement. After his lengthy trial-- which was a media circus in and of itself-- Bane was sentenced to 53 years in New York’s State Penitentiary.

Due to good behaviour, that sentence has been reduced to thirty seven years with the possibility of parole after ten more years.

Which brings us to his son, Magnus.

Magnus Bane, now an esteemed faculty member of Columbia University, wasn’t always so sparkling clean.

No, our source reveals that Bane Jr. has quite the sordid juvenile record.

Literally.

Magnus Bane was arrested half a dozen times for petty crime between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, when his record was officially sealed. Our intrepid reporters were able to find the dirty details, though.

After Asmodeus’s incarceration, Bane became part of the foster system where he bounced from home to home in the city. His mother died just a few years after giving birth and growing up, Magnus looked up to Asmodeus as only a son can look up to his father.

By all reports, Magnus was a model student-- at least on paper. That didn’t stop him from regularly skipping class or getting up to no good.

Looking at Bane’s record reveals charges for petty larceny, vandalism, and underage possession. And that’s the mere tip of the iceberg.

Things certainly don’t look good for Magnus, do they?

Still, something changed and Magnus took his SATS, graduated summa cum laude and headed for greener pastures-- Yale as a matter of fact, where he completed his undergraduate degree in three years before moving on to his doctoral thesis, spending part of that time in London.

Magnus Bane will be thirty in just a few months and things have never looked better for him-- he’s the Chair of the History Department at an Ivy League Institution, he’s been published dozens of times and is regularly invited to speak at conferences, both domestic and abroad.

We’ve even heard that he’s been busy working on a new book with an anticipated Summer 2019 release.

But that’s not all. Magnus Bane has been spotted out on the town with Alec Lightwood, the hottest musician in the world right now who just wrapped up a sold out world tour in May.

By most estimates, Lightwood is worth an astonishing 300 million dollars.

That begs the question to any reporter worth their salt: What does Bane see in Alec?

It’s easy to see what could have captured Lightwood’s attention. Magnus is handsome (have you seen his Insta???), successful, and we’re sure charming as hell.

We bet he gets it from his father.

But does Magnus see Alec’s million watt smile and rugged good looks or does he see dollar signs flashing?

Does he see a man who would do anything for his fans or his next meal ticket?

Alec is talented-- he can sing, act, and is well-known for his philanthropic endeavors. Idris News has long since waited with bated breath for the biggest name in the music scene to find his perfect match.

We just didn’t want to see it happen like this.

Our inside source claims that things went cold between them when she refused to keep paying for Bane’s tuition in London. Apparently, the professor was in dire straights and like a good girlfriend, our source had wanted to help-- until it became too much.

As you can see from our photos, it looks like Magnus and Alec have been getting cozy for quite a while. Those pictures at the zoo are #couplegoals and don’t get us started on the two of them enjoying a romantic walk throughout the city.

Is Magnus in love? Are we witnessing a real life fairy tale or has Bane just duped Lightwood into becoming his naive sugar daddy in a move that would make his father proud?

It seems like a dream come true for an earnest professor to meet a polished celebrity. We just wonder if fate had a helping hand and if Alec isn’t being played for a fool.

Shame on you Magnus for breaking our golden boy’s heart. We’ve seen Alec through many a scandal dating back to his pre-album days and we’ve got to say that we aren’t impressed.

Or maybe we are. It certainly takes a certain je ne sais quois to pull off such a trick. Time will tell what’s truth or lie with Alec and Magnus and who wouldn’t miss a seat to potentially one of the biggest scandals this year.

Whatever the case, the staff at Idris can’t wait to see what happens next.

Magnus looks up from the glossy magazine at the knock on his door. He sends Ragnor a wan smile.

“I take it you’ve seen the news.”

Ragnor looks at the magazine like others would a vulture. “If you’re asking if I’ve read that piece of trash then, unfortunately, the answer is yes.” He’s quiet a moment, studying Magnus before asking in a gentle voice, “How are you doing?”

Magnus laughs and it’s a bitter, angry noise. “How do you think I’m doing. I woke up next to Alec feeling great enough to take on the world. I didn’t think I’d actually have to, though,” he says, shaking his head.

Ragnor’s gaze sharpens at the mention of Alec. “And have you talked to lover boy since the story broke?”

Shaking his head, Magnus sits back in his chair. He looks through his office window and everything seems the same. There are students milling about like zombies so early on a Monday morning and there’s the kid that’s always flying a kite in a dinosaur onesie.

On any other morning, it’d be more of the same.

Too bad that Magnus’s world has imploded.

“I left his place less than two hours ago,” Magnus says, gaze unseeing. “I only found out when I came to campus. I was passing the Student Center when their magazine stand caught my eye. I certainly didn’t expect to see myself on a cover.”

He chuckles humorlessly. “I haven’t been in a magazine since I was fifteen.”

“Is your career at risk?”

Magnus shoots him a look. “I have tenure so they can’t fire me, if that’s what you’re asking. Forget that I haven’t even done anything. No, I think I’d go so far as to say that I’ve just become the most sought after guest at conferences for the next little while. What is it they say? All publicity is good publicity?”

Ragnor is quiet and the silence starts grating on his nerves. He can’t believe how fast things went to shit, after all.

“Goddamnit,” Magnus mutters, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s bad enough that my past has come back to bite me in the ass. I always knew it would if I continued this thing with Alexander. What I can’t stand is that I wasn’t the one to tell him.”

Magnus looks at Ragnor, beseeching. “Alec had to find out that my dad’s a fucking con from someone else. From the press? From his PR team? It doesn’t matter-- all that matters is that I’ve probably ruined everything. Sometimes I hate my father so much I can taste it,” Magnus bitterly whispers and clenches his fist where it’s resting on the arm of his chair.

Taking a seat in front of Magnus’s desk, Ragnor takes his time thinking before looking up at Magnus. “What makes you so sure that you’ve ruined anything, friend? Surely if Alec is as great as you’ve been screeching about all this time then he won’t cast judgement so cavalierly?”

“What is there to judge? My dad is quite literally the worst crook Wall Street has ever seen. For Christ’s sake, his nickname is ‘The King of Wall Street.’ How does someone get that reputation,” Magnus demands before answering his own question. “They get it by being a cheat, by swindling hundreds and hundreds of people out of their money. Shit, he took savings from the elderly and college funds from middle-aged couples. He was a greedy bastard and he got what was coming to him.”

“That doesn’t mean that you should pay for what he did,” Ragnor says quietly. “You dad was a bastard. That shouldn’t reflect on you. If Alec is the man you say he is then he will see that, friend.”

“Yeah? And what if he doesn’t,” Magnus asks morosely.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you,” Ragnor snaps back impatiently. Magnus looks up to see Ragnor looking at him with fire in his eyes. “You’re a good man Magnus and I can’t stand that you let your father weigh you down like this.”

Magnus shoots him a dry look. “I think I’m incredibly well-adjusted for the shitstorm that was my adolescence.”

“Be that as it may, you’ve castigated yourself enough. I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at Alec yesterday. From what I’ve seen, Lightwood seems like a decent enough man and anyone with eyes could see the way he’s smitten with you. I’m choosing-- shocking, I know-- to give the boy the benefit of the doubt.”

Thinking over Ragnor’s surprisingly impassioned speech, Magnus reaches for the phone on his desk on autopilot when it starts ringing.

“Bane,” he says, voice clipped.

“Dr. Bane, this is Elle Donovan from Celebrity Magazine--”

“No comment,” Magnus says coldly and hangs up without another word.

“The little parasites have already latched on to you,” Ragnor says easily.

Blowing out a breath, Magnus glares at the phone. “Goddamn rodents.”

“It looks like everything is out in the open now, at least. No matter how it was revealed, at least it’s no longer hanging over you and your relationship with Alec like a proverbial thundercloud.”

“You’re right,” Magnus drawls sarcastically. “Now instead of worrying about Alec’s reaction to learning about my past-- in which I envisioned that we would talk about things and, assuming he didn’t run as far away from me as he could get, we would sit down and formulate a plan to deal with the press-- I get to jump right to the inevitable break-up as well as deal with the fucking media frenzy at the same goddamn time.”

Ragnor raises a brow before standing and straightening his jacket. “I can see that you’re in no mood to listen to reason,” he sniffs. “I’ll leave you to your sulk and trust that you’ll deal with things without too much time spent crying into your damn hanky.”

“Like I have a choice,” Magnus mutters.

Ragnor ignores him. Making his way to the door of Magnus’s office, he spares a glance back.

“I know that this isn’t what you wanted and I know that you’ve been running from your past since the day you stepped foot onto Yale. I know that you had a bit of a misspent youth that’s easily forgiven. Alec makes you happy and I’d hate for you to end things before you even see what your boyfriend is thinking.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, there is rarely a silver lining that can’t be found. Talk to Alec and go from there. It doesn’t do anyone any good to decide the future before it’s even had a chance to play out. Talk to him,” Ragnor repeats and Magnus nods once.

“Thank you, Cabbage,” Magnus says softly.

Ragnor doesn’t say anything, just sends him one last piercing look before leaving Magnus’s office.

Sighing heavily, Magnus scrubs his hands over his face, makeup be damned. Looking at his clock, Magnus laughs a little incredulously that it’s still shy of eight in the morning.

He has class in half an hour and Magnus doesn’t even need to think about it before he’s opening an email and cancelling his classes for the day.

Just the thought of teaching to a room full of twenty year olds with such a white elephant hanging about ominously seems repulsive.

Standing, he picks up his bag-- that he hadn’t even had a chance to unpack-- and calls it a day, leaving his office and locking up.

He heads back to his apartment, hoping to fuck that he doesn’t run into anyone.

Magnus looks up from where he’d buried himself in work. The last of his revisions are due by the middle of August and he still has hundreds of pages to edit and review in the next two weeks.

Seeing that it’s late afternoon-- Magnus has successfully distracted himself for hours-- he stands, working out the kinks in his back from where he’s been bent pouring over his manuscript.

Looking through the peephole to ensure it’s not a particularly perseverent journalist, Magnus opens his door to see Cat and Madzie waiting in the hallway.

“Good afternoon. What are you two doing here,” he asks with an arched brow.

Rolling her eyes, Catarina moves past him as Madzie skips to the living room. “What do you think we’re doing here? The shit has hit the fan and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t check in?”

“No, ‘I told you so?’”

Shaking her head fondly, Cat goes to sit down in the living room as Madzie goes to her cabinet and takes out some crayons and a coloring book, settling down in front of Cat to draw on the coffee table.

“I’m better than that,” Cat says dryly.

Magnus just sighs before sitting down in a chair. “You did warn me, though,” he admits.

Leaning forward, Cat rests a hand on Magnus’s knee. “Yeah, but even I thought you had more time.” She raises a brow. “You know who went to Aldertree, don’t you?”

“I’d have to be a fu-- fool not to,” Magnus scoffs, clearing his throat as he glances at Madzie.

Smile reaching her eyes, Catarina just shakes her head. “All this time and she just can’t help herself.”

"She did warn me in London. I probably should have seen this coming. Maybe I’m losing my touch,” Magnus mutters under his breath.

“Or,” Catarina draws out. “You’ve been a little preoccupied lately. It happens to the best of us,” she teases.

Magnus laughs a little. “Still,” he allows. “I feel like I should have known-- had a feeling, something-- that my world was about to implode.”

Cat shrugs as she leans down to pick up a crayon that fell to the floor. “The only thing you can do now is move forward. Deal with whatever happens and know that you aren’t alone. You have us, of course, but don’t forget that you have Alec.”

“Do I?”

Glaring, Catarina replies, “Yes, you stupid man. You do. Until Alec explicitly ends things, he’s in your corner. From what I’ve seen, I hardly think that an opportunistic viper is going to make him tuck tail and run. He’s made of sterner stuff than that and you do both yourself and him a disservice thinking otherwise.”

“But I didn’t tell him, Cat," Magnus implores. "He found out from someone else and you can’t tell me that doesn’t cast things in a dark light.”

“Please, Magnus. Like we don’t all have things in our past that we’d rather not see the light of day. Like Alec Lightwood doesn’t understand that.”

“Cat,” Magnus says, tone soaked in self-deprecation. “We literally talked about this a few days ago-- about his reputation and insecurity surrounding his career. He’s been used in the past and was rather jaded. I talked him down and we reached an understanding. I said that I didn’t want his money, that I was far more concerned with the person behind the wallet.”

“Well, there we go, then,” Cat exclaims. “He knows your intentions and that you aren’t just another bottom-feeder.”

“Don’t you see, Catarina? I said all of that only for my past to blow up at the worst imaginable time and you must know that any sane person would have an unpleasant case of whiplash.”

Cat sends Magnus an arch look. “Not if that person was as smitten as your boy is over you.”

Magnus opens his mouth to retort but Cat beats him to it. “On the surface? Yeah, Magnus, it looks bad. I won’t lie about that. But that isn’t taking into consideration that you two have been friends for months and Alec should know better. He should at least talk to you before making any rash judgments.”

“I just don’t want to talk to him-- to have that conversation-- and have it be the end.”

“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do and sometimes people surprise you, even if you thought you had it all figured out,” Cat counters.

“What’s wrong?”

Magnus looks up from where he’d been brooding to see Madzie at his side. He smiles, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Some people found out some things about me that I’d rather they hadn’t. I’m a little afraid of what the consequences will be.”

Madzie hums a little as she thinks before her gaze snaps back to Magnus. “You’re always telling me that I have to be brave even when I don’t want to. Like, when I fell off my bike and didn’t want to get back on. You told me that I had to face my fears and I did! And now I love riding my bike in the park with Cindy.”

“Are you saying that I have to take my own advice?”

Madzie nods solemnly and Magnus smiles. It’s small, and a little defeated, but it’s there nonetheless.

With that, Catarina stands up, helping Madzie clean up her crayons. As she does so, the shifts so that she can see Magnus.

“When are you going to talk to him? You really can’t let this fester,” she warns.

Magnus opens his mouth to respond just as his phone vibrates. He looks over on autopilot and freezes when he sees the text message.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmurs and stares down at his phone, dread settling in his stomach like lead.

Magnus, when are you free? We need to talk.

#httbt #my writing #malec wip #malec fic

[deathsteel]

This Ain’t a Scene Its a Goddamn Drag Race

A RuPaul Drag Race AU ft your favorite gay angel and bisexual himbo

~Part One~ 

“It’s starting!” he called, wiggling deeper into his usual spot on the couch as he pulled the afghan his brother had knitted for him tighter over his shoulders. “You’re gonna miss it!” 

The commercial on the screen ended and the familiar logo for the show flashed across the screen. 

“Previously on Drag Race…”

“Goddamnit, we have a DVR,” the other man said, skidding into the room with a gigantic bowl of popcorn in his hands. He flopped down and tugged on the corner of the afghan until the first man relinquished a corner of it to him. “You coulda paused it. Did you start the recording? I told your brother we’d record it.”

“Yes, I’m recording it,” the first man sighed, reaching over to snag some popcorn. “It’s not like we didn’t already see all this happen anyway.”

“It’s all in the editing, gummy bear.” the smaller man snarked right back as the intro segment went through its familiar rigamarole on the screen before them. “Now, shush up.”

The other man grumbled in reply, but smiled around his pilfered popcorn. 

Holly Cummunion didn’t bother to hide her smile when she waggled her fingertips at Maura Less as she was sashaying away. She knew the camera would catch her acting like a shady bitch, which wouldn’t win her the crown for Miss Congeniality, but she couldn’t help celebrating the fall of the two-faced monster  that was ‘Destraura’. The fact that the other contestant leaving would make Tasha happy too was just an unintended consequence. 

“Ladies,” Gabby Reale called, garnering the attention of the five remaining contestants after Maura had finally dragged her saggy ass off of the runway. “I hope you take the judges' critiques to heart going forward. You’re my final five, so if you’re still thinking that less is more, well...”

Gabby ended the subtle dig at the eliminated contestant with a coy twist of her shoulders that made the sequins on her deep red ball gown sparkle. 

Holly swallowed hard as she remembered that she had been critiqued heavily by the guest judge for not wearing enough makeup to cover her five o’clock shadow and nodded along solemnly with the other queens. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been in the bottom two, at this point even the littlest things could mean you were lip syncing for your life. 

“And remember, if you can’t love yourself then how in the hell are you gonna love anybody else? Can I get an ay-men?!” Gabby recited, raising her hand up like Sister Mary Clarence feeling the holy spirit move her. 

“Ay-men!” Holly recited along with the other girls, waiting for Gabby’s call of “Now let the music play!” before rushing over to gather Kim Chi  close to her in a celebratory hug.

“Girl you slayed it!” Holly whispered in her ear, referring to the lip sync battle that the other queen had just won against Maura Less. They’d sung Britney Spears’ Toxic, which was poetic because Maura had been bragging about her Britney skills the whole damn competition, even done a passable impersonation in the Snatch Game. 

Kim just showed her teeth and pulled Holly out onto the runway to dance with her, filming the scene that would play with the end credits of the episode when it aired on T.V. She didn’t have to force a smile as she danced, despite how tired she was, after all she was one step closer to becoming America’s next drag superstar. 

The quintet made it back to the workroom to find ‘You betta werk, E! #Destraura4Lyfe’  scrawled on the mirror in bright pink lipstick. Holly just rolled her eyes at that because no surprise there, trust Maura to be a fucking troll to the bitter end. 

“Well it’s sweet she left us all personal messages,” Kim said sarcastically, snagging up the spray bottle of glass cleaner that had been left on the workspace for her and spraying it liberally over Maura’s parting words. “Bye, bye bye, bitch.”

The other four queens watched in relative silence as Kim finished her task; Dianne Tawank started fidgeting with the tape that was holding up her strapless dress and Holly couldn’t wait to kick off her heels even if wandering around the workroom in her hose would ruin them. 

“Sorry your incestuous little clique got broken up, Momma,” Tasha Salad drawled in Eva Destruction’s direction as the other queen watched Kim’s cleaning with a despondent look on her face. “Guess you’ll have to groom another kitten to play with.”

“I’m not your ‘Momma’, Potato,” Eva Destruction snapped, using the derivative nickname that she and Maura had been calling Tasha behind her back since the beginning of the competition. 

Holly was pretty sure it was the first time the other queen had heard it used to her face because Tasha’s mouth dropped open in pretty genuine looking shock before her expression morphed into fury. 

“Just being respectful to my elders,” Tasha retorted, glancing over at the now clean mirror before storming towards her area of the work room that held her wigs and gowns and many, many trunks of shoes. “But I guess the opera gloves are coming off, Evil.”

Dianne snorted into her hand and rolled her eyes at the other two queens before she dismissed them both and started gingerly tugging at the tape on her dress so that she could take it off. Though her chest was waxed, the other queen still winced as she rolled her skin tight purple dress down her body; revealing angry red marks from the tape, painted on cleavage, padding attached to the inner lining of her dress, and a toned body that Holly couldn’t help but spare a glance at as she moved towards her own makeup kit that held her cold cream near the mirror. 

She’d been single for almost five years, she was fucking allowed to look. Dianne just winked at her in the reflection of the mirror before she swanned over to her where her wig styling head was and started tugging at the edges of her ginger, lace-front wig. 

“Oh, can’t we all just get along, girls?” Holly asked Kim rhetorically, earning a girlish giggle from her as she bounced around in her platform heels causing the tutu she was wearing to flutter prettily. 

Holly presumed the other queen was running on leftover adrenaline from her near-miss with elimination, but her excess energy could also be due to the fact that Kim was about ten years younger than her. God, she made her feel old. 

“What-ever,” Eva scoffed, kicking her heels off without a care to the fact that one of the size 13s almost caught Kim in her shin. “You can’t even be bothered to scrape off that sandpaper on your chin so excuse me if I don’t think you’re the best person to be leading a kumbaya drum circle.”

“Just cause I live on the west coast,” Holly replied evenly, leaning in close to the mirror so she could start smearing cold cream over her jawline. “Doesn’t mean I’m a hippie, so fuck you. And my jaw may be rough, but at least it doesn’t rub as bad as watching my girlfriend get sent home by a teenager. Does it, Mother-dear?”

“Bitch, what’d I just say?” Eva started, rounding quickly on Holly until the older queen was looming menacingly behind her in the mirror.

“Now, now, ladies,” Dianne chided in her clipped British accent as she shimmied the rest of her way out of her dress; draping it carefully over a dress form before she started scratching her painted nails through her short blonde hair that had gotten flattened to her head with sweat while under her wig. “Can you please save your bickering for tomorrow? When I’m hungover enough from celebrating my win to tune you all out?”

There was a tense silence that Dianne must have taken as agreement because the queen just nodded to herself and started tugging the hip padding out of her tights. Holly focused her own attention on getting off as much of her makeup as she could for now and then started the arduous task of getting her own tight, structured dress off without ripping out the boning in the bodice; that shit was a bitch to fix and her fingers already hurt from helping Kim stitch herself into her own dress for the evening. 

Within half an hour the five glamourous women who had entered the workroom had been defrocked down to the five average, gay men that made up their cores. It wasn’t until one of the show’s production assistants was going around to remove their microphones for the evening and the cameras were shut off that one of them spoke up. 

“Anyone down for pizza tonight?” Kevin asked, scratching at a stray smear of his bright green eyeshadow that had somehow ended up on the back of his hand. “My treat?”

“I’m in,” Castiel replied, earning a quick smile from the short Asian man as the group began to head out of the studio; back to the hotel rooms that were their home away from home for the time that they were filming the show. “Balthazar?”

“As long as I can drink as well,” the British expat replied, twitching with the collar of the leather jacket he was wearing over a tight Henley as they emerged into the brisk evening that was San Francisco in early November. 

Balthazar always seemed to be dressed to impressed even though when off camera the contestants spent most of their time playing cards in their hotel, forbidden to go out for even a nightcap by their contracts and an ever watchful security team. They also couldn’t have cell phones, web access, watch the news, or have any contact whatsoever with their family and friends; which was a whole separate bitch in and of itself. 

One thing that all of the contestants had agreed on though was that their rooms had great mini bars, an even better porn selection, and more than enough take-out menus to suit every possible taste. 

“Well, jailbait can’t drink any of it,” Raphael answered in a bored tone as he picked at his chipping nail polish. The other man looked up when his remark was met with silence and it was then he saw the scathing look that Castiel and Balthazar were giving him as Kevin blushed down at his feet. “Whaaaat? You bitches know I’m joking.”

“It’s fine,” Kevin muttered, flinching when Luc shouldered impatiently past him to climb into the backseat of one of the black town cars that was waiting for them at the curb. “You want pizza, Luc?”

“Fuck your pizza,” Luc growled back, his eyes noticeably red-rimmed. “Can we go now?”

The four men looked meaningfully at each other, but it was Castiel that broke first; letting out a deep sigh before he pulled his old college hoodie tighter around himself and climbed into the empty seat beside Luc. Kevin, Raphael and Balthazar would take the other car, unwilling to ride with the sullen man since his friend had just been sent home. 

Castiel suspected (and apparently others did too) that the pair were more than ‘just friends’, but since romantic relationships between contestants were forbidden they had kept mum about Luc and Michael’s closeness while in front of the producers; allowing them to think it was a harmless clique that had formed as they tended to do on reality shows. But it was obvious by how upset the other man was, sniffling into the cuffs of his long sleeved red shirt, that something more had definitely been going on between the two queens. 

“I put him in drag for the first time,” Luc said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them on the short drive from the studio to the hotel. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Castiel questioned, unable to hide his concern for the other man, even though it smacked of an overreaction. Hell, it's not like Michael had died or anything; just gone back to New York for a while. 

“Bite me, cum-stain,” Luc replied and Castiel rolled his eyes at the unimaginative nickname. 

He was willing to bet money that that particular gem had been Michael’s idea of a parting shot; not $100,000 of course, but at least a tenner or something. Castiel was pretty certain either way that he’d win it back. 

#Fic writing #destiel fanfiction #spn fanfiction #rpdr au #gd drag race

[mrandmrsvex]

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia Additional Tags: Valentine's fluff, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Secret Admirer gone wrong gone right Summary:

Vex doesn't care about Valentine's Day. She doesn't mind being alone, not at all. But a message from a secret admirer is far too interesting not to follow.

Percy doesn't care about Valentine's Day. He forgets about it, mostly. But a message from a secret admirer piques his interest.

Vex didn't care for Valentine's Day. It was overblown. Commercial. Fake. Why demand to excessively celebrate love on a particular day? What nonsense. She didn't care for it, not one bit.

This, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she was single on this year's Valentine's. It was a matter of principle.

After all, there wasn't anyone she was interested in anyway. No one she could think of to even ask for a date, not even a non-committal one. And even if she did, he wouldn't be interested. He didn't care for Valentine's Day either. So she didn't care. She'd enjoy the day alone, and it would be perfectly fine. She didn't care for Valentine's day at all.

Vax could only sigh as he listened to her replay this particular rant for the umpteenth time in the last two days. Valentine's was tomorrow, and Vex was committed to pretending like it was no big deal.

„That's good to know.“ Vax said in the most monotone voice he could muster. „Then I won't have to feel bad being out all day with Kiki.“

„Not at all. Go have fun. I'll enjoy myself.“

Vex had two tubs of chocolate ice cream, a good movie, and a cuddly dog. She didn't need anything more. Valentine's Day was no big deal.

Percy genuinely didn't care for Valentine's Day. In fact, he'd mostly forgotten about it in the past few years, even as shops and television commercials covered everything with pink hearts. It wasn't really something that registered as important on his radar.

He remembered the few awkward attempts at secret admirer gifts in his early teens, sure. He also remembered everyone's confusion when he'd decided to not pursue any kind of date later on, even when they were offered by strangely interested girls (he never understood what they could see in him, what he would have to offer, except maybe the promise of paying for the fanciest restaurants with his parents' money), while his siblings were out and about celebrating each year.

Percy just didn't care for any of it. It worried Keyleth, to some extent.

„I'm not saying you have to have a date tomorrow. You're free to do whatever you want! I just wanna make sure you really don't mind being alone. I know you're alone a lot, but, you know. I can still tell Vax to postpone our date if you want!“

„Keyleth.“ He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. „Even if I did care, I wouldn't dare make an enemy out of Vax by keeping you to myself on Valentine's. For heaven's sake, go out and eat all the cake he can afford to buy you tomorrow. I'll be fine.“

„Okay. But you know you can call or text if you change your mind. Any time!“

Vex woke up the next day with an empty, aching feeling to her stomach. No, goddamnit. She wouldn't mind. She didn't care. She repeated her mantra while she got dressed, and on the way out to the mailbox. Why she'd check today, of all days, she didn't really know. All she could expect were some love letters to Vax, sent by secret admirers (Keyleth went the more personal route, she knew, handing over any letters personally), or maybe some unwanted bills as usual.

She didn't expect the small red box full of chocolates, a tiny white envelope with her name on it on top.

Time seemed to halt for a second as she stared at the letter inside.

                Meet me outside the art history museum at noon

Vex's heart was racing even while she sat on the side of the large stone stairs leading up to the museum. This was ridiculous. Stupid. What was she doing? Waiting for someone she didn't even know. On Valentine's Day. In one of her nicest dresses. Make-up on, even.

She was an idiot. But somehow, she had been unable to resist. It was hard to admit, but something inside her had become excited, almost overexcited, as she was getting ready.

And here she was now, waiting to see her secret messenger.

The large clocktower of the museum rang. 12pm.

Ten past noon.

Quarter past.

Half past twelve.

No one was coming. People were strolling past her. Couples, holding hands.

Her rage was rising. Why was she still waiting? Half an hour. Even if the mysterious messenger showed up now, they shouldn't expect to see her anywhere. They should be ashamed.

Almost as ashamed as she felt right now.

Her eyes scanned the street once again and stopped at a familiar mess of white hair, peeking out from beside a column of the building's side. A glint of golden glasses.

It couldn't possibly be Percy. He'd never be late to anything, especially not to a date he set up himself, she thought to herself before hearing an equally familiar voice.

„Vex! Hi.“

It was Percy. In front of her now. It couldn't be – he wouldn't send – would he?

„Are you waiting for someone?“

It wasn't Percy. She wasn' sure whether she felt relieved about that or not.

„Yeah, just... waiting for a friend. But I think they forgot. No one could be that late. What are you doing here?“

„Oh, nothing, really.“ Percy's mind was racing. He had to come up with a convicing lie, quick. It was usually easy, but this was Vex. And he could barely lie to her when he was prepared for it.

„I wanted to find someplace to hide from all this cutesy loveydovey mess everywhere, and I figured the museum would still be safe.“

Good. A believable lie. It looked like she believed it, at least.

There really was no need to tell her the truth. He embarassed himself in front of her often enough. She didn't need to know about the ridiculous situation he'd put himself in now.

What had he been thinking, following the offer of that stupid letter he'd found in his workshop this morning? Of course there'd be no one wearing a red skirt anywhere. It was a prank, from Vax maybe, or Scanlan and Grog, hiding somewhere right now laughing their asses off at his idiocy. That he'd seriously believed it could be someone, maybe someone he knew, someone he wanted to spend the day with-

Vex's dress was cream-coloured, and it wasn't even a skirt. He'd noticed when he approached her, but still. He'd hoped. For a second.

„Would you mind some company on your quest for a sane refuge? Or is this a solitary mission?“ Vex winked at him, and Percy blushed.

„No, of course, by all means.“ He offered her a hand as she stood up.

He paid her entrance fee, of course. It was only the polite thing to do.

Vex had rarely ever had more fun at a museum. Percy knew surprisingly much about art – then again, he seemed to know a little bit about almost anything. She smiled softly as he began his impromptu guide tour in the way that Vax had titled „Professor de Rolo style“ long ago.

In the medieval section, though, she couldn't keep down a short giggle while nudging him in the side, pointing at several paintings.

„They all look like they're incredibly suspicious about each other. Just look at Mary giving the stink-eye to an angel.“

Percy tried to keep his serious face for barely a few seconds before snickering himself and pulling her over to the Renaissance room.

„That's nothing. I'm far more impressed by all the buff Jesus babies. Look at the six pack on this one.“

The security people in each room became more and more tired of their giggling as they snarked their way through almost the whole exhibition.

The Impressionist's wing was a different story. Vex fell silent almost as soon as they entered, and bee-lined to a particularly large painting full of soft blue and golden hues.

„This is incredible.“ She mumbled as Percy came up to her side.

„Do you want to sit and watch for a while?“ He gestured to the conveniently placed bench behind them.

„Yes!“ She was already sitting down. „If you don't mind, I mean-...?“ „Absolutely not.“ He sat down beside her.

She was far too entranced with the painting to notice that Percy wasn't giving it much more than a second look. He was far busier watching her, wide-eyed and smiling as her gaze trailed across the colours.

„I have to say.“ Vex smiled at him as they walked down the stairs, the sun already setting. „That was definitely a nicer way to spend Valentine's Day than I'd planned.“

„I'm glad I could make for good company.“ Percy returned her smile as they reached the street and stopped for a second. „I, uhm, I was wondering, actually, if maybe-“

„Yes?“ „Would you like to get some dinner?“

„Yes, absolutely!“ She wrapped her arm around his elbow. „Provided we can find a place that isn't completely booked today.“

They strolled down the street towards the city centre. Percy was glad he hadn't seen the mysterious red skirt anywhere. Vex had already forgotten the rage against her messenger's non-arrival.

In a cafe across the street, Keyleth nervously slurped down the last of her milkshake, peeking out the large windows and trying to hide her bright red hair as best as she could.

„Do you think we did the right thing? That was a kinda mean trick.“

„Aaaah, no, Kiki.“ Vax grinned at her as he watched his sister turn the corner. „We did good. We did real good.“

„We're not, uh, telling them, though, right?“

„Fuck no. Never.“

If you think I did a good job writing this, and you have some copper to spare, consider buying me a coffee?

#Critical Role #CR #Perc'ahlia #Vex'ahlia #Percy de Rolo #Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III #Vox Machina #my writing

[rayshippouuchiha]

do you think toni and rhodey celebrate their anniversary? do you think they even remember when it is, or do they take turns choosing a random date sometime every autumn (which is probably around when they met) to surprise each other with flowers and cuddlefests and fancy candlelit dinners and paintball or however these nerds celebrate

+CAn you imagine toni and rhodey celebrating their 5, 10, 15+ year anniversaries with candle-lit dinners, expensive alcohol, flowers, gifts, CUDDLES, etc etc like i bet they both love to make a huge fuss over it and even their regular anniversaries are super sappy bECAUSE THEY LOVE AND CARE FOR EACH OTHER SO MUCH SDKJFH (also bucky and steve hear about it and get hella jelly)

~~~~~~~~~

I got two asks about this and I, unfortunately, didn’t realize it until now.  That being said I’m gonna hopefully do justice to them both even if my little fill mutated a bit.

So. Anniversaries.

This is officially a Thing(TM) with Toni and Rhodey.

They know the exact date they met for the first time because it’s immortalized in print (Stark Heiress Involved in Drunken Brawl) and because it’s one of the days that changed their lives forever.

So that also makes it one of the few anniversaries that Toni can remember on her own.

Rhodey normally requests leave during that week way ahead of time and Pepper’s mostly stopped scheduling things for Toni then too.  And even then JARVIS always makes sure to remind Toni about a week or so ahead of time each year anyways so she can make preparations or clear her schedule for the day or whatever.

There’s been a few near misses and a few last minute arrivals and day early/late celebrations but each year Toni and Rhodey make an effort to spend that day together if at all possible.  They also trade off responsibilities about entertainment and plans as they go.  One of Toni’s years resulted in a heart shaped scar on Rhodey’s lower back after a trip to Milan.  One of Rhodey’s years ended up with them spending a rather intimate weekend in jail and Rhodey with a mental block and a severe case of denial as to the existence of the entire state of Delaware.

The year they all manage to come together as a team with Bucky safely in the Tower just so happens to be Rhodey’s year and since he’s got a lot more free time now than he used to, and because he’s not so secretly a giant fucking troll, he decides to go full on date night style.

So he has JARVIS tell Toni to “dress to impress and baby girl I’m talking red carpet level here” and to meet him on the common floor at 7 sharp, which is, by complete coincidence Rhodey swears, also the time the others will be congregating for dinner.

He shows up to the common floor at a minute or two after since he knows Toni’ll be at least five minutes late no matter what.  He’s dressed to the nines in a crisp three piece suit with a crimson tie and holding a chocolate bouquet in one hand because he knows how Toni feels about regular cut flowers and a small gift box in the other.

He makes his way towards the dinning room where the team’s gathered and Clint and Sam both shoot out an impressed whistle when they see him as the others call out their greetings.

“Looking good my man,” Sam grins at him.  “Hot date?  And if she’s got you looking that sharp does she have a sister?”

“Sorry buddy,” Rhodey tells him smugly, “she’s an only child and I ain’t up for sharing tonight.”

“That’s cold Rhodes.” Sam quips with a mock frown.  “Ice cold.”

Before he can say anything else he hears the ding of the elevator and he turns enough so that he’ll be able to see the door and the looks on Steve and Barnes’ faces.

Cause he knows it’s gonna be good.

There’s the familiar sound of Toni’s heels on tile and then suddenly she’s there.  The room goes quiet and Rhodey sees Steve’s face flush even as Barnes’ goes tense all over.

Honestly though, he can’t really blame them.

Hair swept up with pieces left to fall tantalizingly around her face and neck, eyes done in a smokey catlike look and lips as crimson as the dress she’s wearing, Rhodey’s easily able to admit that Toni looks ... divine.

He’s aware that he’s more than a bit biased too but still.

The dress itself is one he hasn’t seen yet.  It’s slit indecently high on both sides so that it shows teasing glimpses of stocking clad thighs.  It’s also molded lovingly to every curve she has.

Hell Rhodey isn’t even sure if it really qualifies as a dress because that thing? 

That thing is a fucking promise.

Granted it’s a promise that neither of them want to even consider keeping but he had said red carpet and Toni, as always, has gone above and beyond.

If Sam’s soft ‘shit’ and Clint’s hissed out breath alongside Thor’s appreciative grin and Steve and Barnes’ ... everything is anything to go by then he’s not the only one who thinks so.  Hell even Natasha looks approving and Rhodey’s pretty sure Bruce is blushing.

“Looking otherworldly as always baby girl,” Rhodey tells her 

“This old rag?” Toni purrs as she sweeps a hand down her side, eyes heavy lidded but sparkling with a warmth that makes Rhodey grin back helplessly because goddamnit he really does love her, “It’s just something I threw on gumdrop.”

“You could throw me on anytime Tin Girl,” Clint leers only to flinch away from Natasha like he’s expecting to be smacked like he normally is.  Only it doesn’t happen.

“Agreed.”  Natasha says instead and Steve abruptly chokes on the glass of water he’s been almost desperately drinking.

Toni laughs as she saunters across the room until she’s standing by Rhodey’s side, a small gift box clutched in her left hand.

“Got you something sugar britches.” Toni tells him as she holds out her box.

“You know you don’t have to baby girl.” Rhodey reminds her even as he hands her the bouquet and they trade gifts.  “I tell you that every year.”

“And yet,” Toni sighs, “every year we both do it anyways so you might as well just accept it.”

Toni got him a War Machine tie pin, an exquisitely crafted thing that probably cost more than he wants to think about.  He clips it into place with a smile though cause it’s just the kind of thing she knows he gets a kick out of.

From the soft look on her face and the way she immediately shuffles her bouquet around and reaches up to take out the earrings she’s already wearing the gold chain and feather earrings he brought her must be a hit too so he figures they’re even.

“You ready to head out?”  He asks her once she’s settled again, bouquet in one hand and jewelry box with the old earrings tucked safely into a nook on the wall.  “I’ve got two tickets to something special and then reservations at Masa and then I’m thinking dancing before we bring it back here.”

 “What’s ah, what’s the special occasion?”  Bruce asks.

“It’s our anniversary.”  Rhodey says promptly, proudly.  There’s a soft crunching noise to his left but he doesn’t bother to look.  He’s pretty sure it’s just Barnes wrecking another chair or something.  Or Steve.

Honestly.  Him and Steve both are fucking hopeless.

“Yeah,” Toni smiles, that soft, warm thing she only rarely lets herself show.  The smile he fell in love with when she was fifteen and so goddamn skittish that just looking at her broke his heart.  The smile that represents everything he wants to protect.  “Today, more years ago than I’m going to admit to right now so shut it Feather-face, Rhodey broke an asshole’s nose and defended my ... dubious honor.”

“He deserved it and honestly I should have broke more than his nose.”  Even after all these years he still routinely has to check the urge to hunt Stone down and kick his ass all over again.

“You were dashing and manly and I was suitably impressed.”  Toni reassures him with a pat on the shoulder.

“You laughed.”  Rhodey reminds her with a small scowl.  “I thought I was gonna have to take you to the hospital.”

“I was fine and it all worked out in the end.” Toni smiles.  “I got you out of it so I think I actually came out ahead on that one to be honest.”

Rhodey just tugs her closer to his side, presses a kiss to her forehead, and grins because he pretty much feels the same way.

“Alright guys,” he finally calls to the others as he steers Toni back out of the room with a hand on her lower back, “we’re gone.  Don’t wait up.”

There’s a chorus of well wishing and goodbyes as Toni tosses up a hand too and lets herself be guided away.

Their night out’s great.  Rhodey’s procured two tickets to an exclusive movie premier Toni actually enjoys.  They go to Masa and eat ridiculously expensive and delicious sushi.  Afterwards they go to a vintage electronics show and get ice cream at a gourmet parlor before going dancing.  They’re flushed and happy by the time they get back into the car to head back to the Tower in the early mourning hours.

Toni falls asleep on his shoulder on the ride home and Rhodey just sits there with her pressed up against his side.  It’s hard for him to believe he has her in his life sometimes, his best friend, his platonic soulmate, and all the other categories Toni fills in his life that he never knew were empty until she took them as her own.

He loves her so much.

When they finally arrive Rhodey gets out of the car with Toni’s heels dangling from his fingers.

He’s not surprised when the elevator opens and Steve and Barnes are there, looking vaguely guilty and blank faced by turns.

Instead he just shakes his head at them and reaches in to scoop her up into a bridal hold.  He tucks her close to his chest and carries her into the elevator where the other two are waiting.

Toni hums, presses her face closer to his neck, but otherwise doesn’t wake up.

Steve and Barnes haven’t taken their eyes off of her since Rhodey pulled her out of the car.  They’re tense, hands clenched at their sides, and so obviously jealous that Rhodey’s surprised they can stand still.

“How’d you two meet?”  It’s, surprisingly enough, Barnes who asks the question.

“At MIT,” Rhodey says softly as he stares down at Toni, careful not to wake her, “She was fifteen and she was so goddamn small, all big eyes and wild hair and more brains than anyone could handle.  And I’d heard of her of course but our paths had never crossed.  Then one day there I was, going to class, and I hear screaming.  And there she was, this tiny little thing just wailing on this guy.  I pulled her off of him, tried to figure out what was going on.  But then he started running his mouth and her shirt was ripped and I just ... I knew.  So I beat his ass like the piece of shit he was for what he tried to do to her.  We’ve been in each other’s lives ever since.”

There’s a harsh inhale from both sides of him and when he glances up and around he can see the way Steve and Barnes’ jaws are both clenched, how Steve’s eyes are dark with fury and Barnes’ face is hard and cold with deadly intent.

‘Right,’ Rhodey thinks, ‘I thought that’s how it was but now, now I know.’

“I’m always gonna be there for her you know?”  Rhodey stares straight ahead as he speaks.  “I’m always gonna have her back no matter what.  No matter who I’ve got to fight.  No matter who I’ve got to go through.  I won’t ... I won’t let her be hurt if I can help it.  She’s been hurt enough.”

The elevator dings at the penthouse, JARVIS having bypassed all other floors to take him and Toni straight home.

Rhodey steps out and turns, keeps the other two from following him out, Toni still cradled in his arms.

“I’ll cut my way right through the next one to fucking try if I have to.”  Rhodey tells them as he looks between Steve and Barnes.  “No matter who they are.”

He holds eye contact with each of them long enough that he’s sure they both understand his meaning and then he takes a step back and lets the elevator doors close on them.  

He knows JARVIS will keep them out of the penthouse for the next day or so until Toni goes down or invites anyone else up.

“Jealous fuckers,” he mumbles as he moves towards the bedroom.

“Indeed.” JARVIS agrees softly.  “But, perhaps, one day they’ll overcome that shortcoming long enough to take notice of what’s right in front of them.”

“Maybe.”  Rhodey agrees.  “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna make it easy on them.  Anyone who isn’t willing to fight for her doesn’t deserve her.”

“Agreed.”  JARVIS says.  “Agreed.”

#The Limitations of Wax #Toni&Rhodey #BroTP: Till The Day We Die #Anonymous #TRASHBAG EMPRESS #ANSWERS FROM THE GARBAGE PAIL