#YES!!! yes he can!!! that is a perfectly legitimate reason to miss dinner. i’m not a total hardass- i will absolutely make him a to go tray

[chicorysaints]

i feel like i’m pretty tolerant with regard to struggles communicating, but i cannot fuckin stand when people give me partial information. like makes me want to scream every single time

#like a friend from middle school reached out to me a while back and said she needed help and i was like ‘with what?’ #and she was like ‘i’m trying to do a thing’ #‘okay. what thing?’ #‘i’m trying to send a letter’ #TO WHO!!!! i don’t want to play 20 questions - i just want to know what you want from me!!!!! #then the other day at the mission someone asked me to make a to go tray for someone else #and i’m not supposed to make to go trays for anybody unless they’re working 3rd shift #and i was like ‘is he working 3rd shift?’ and the guy who asked looked at me like i was stupid and was like ‘no?’ #and i was like ‘then no he can’t have a to go tray’ #and then someone else came through the line and said ‘hey x is meeting with his sponsor. can he have a to go tray?’ #YES!!! yes he can!!! that is a perfectly legitimate reason to miss dinner. i’m not a total hardass- i will absolutely make him a to go tray #if the first guy who asked had just told me that i would NOT have made the guy meeting with his sponsor beg to get a meal! #chatter #anyways rant over. it just drives me up the wall

[primasveraas-writing]

"the holy or the broken" -Ted Lasso

I'm so sorry.

WORD COUNT: 2401

XXX

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and they’re all defined by the same woman.

The third echoes the first: Roy Kent, angry at the world with no one to pull him out of his frustration. It’s also worse, though, because before, Roy lived in blissful ignorance of the joy and sorrow that laid ahead.

Rebecca and Ted express their surprise at Roy’s anger. They thought him changed, or perhaps that grief would prevail over rage, and they were wrong. Because Roy Kent, when stripped of everything he is -his athleticism and grim humor and the love of his life- has anger. Nothing less and nothing more.

At first, he can’t say her name. He doesn’t even think it, because every reminder of her is a reminder that she’s gone. Despite her mark on everything- the furniture they picked out together, the bed they shared, her usual seat at the dining table, the compliments she gave his hair and clothes- Roy doesn’t think of her. Which means he doesn’t think at all, so he becomes his anger and his pain, and nothing else.

He stops coaching, obviously. Nobody asks him if he’ll keep going, nor does he announce his departure. His absence, professionally, personally, emotionally- is expected fully. Though people still coming to the fucking house. He tolerates her parents, and Phoebe once or twice, but eventually the visits dwindle, and Roy doesn’t check his phone or answer the door. There’s shouting, sometimes- inevitably Ted Lasso- but Roy has soundproof headphones for a reason and he’s perfectly fine with calling the cops on Ted. And he does, more than once.

His sister begs him to talk to her, or at least to Phoebe, and Roy, in all his anger, doesn’t have the heart to turn his niece away. So it’s just her and Roy, a few days a week, and they order food directly to the house and Phoebe tells him about school, and he grunts in acknowledgment. She cries sometimes too, and that’s when he holds her. No words are exchanged, but he comforts her, enough so that the sobs stop. The numb feeling he has remains intact.

The yoga moms scout his address, somehow, and drop off a wine basket- they drink in relative silence, and clean up his house and make a few casseroles. He picks at the food, but they slowly disappear, and it’s almost nice to eat more than once or twice a day.

It doesn’t get easier. People tell him it will, that the pain will start to lessen, but it doesn’t. Not three weeks after, or four, or five, or when summer emerges and the lilies bloom.

Roy’s not particularly good at adapting. He never wanted to be. And it’s bullshit that he’d have to start now, for some shit fucking luck and life-alerting occurrences he never saw coming.

Because he never expected that there would be an “after” regarding Keeley Jones. It’s not something he planned for and certainly not something he ever wanted. It’s just: one breath she’s there and the next, she’s not. Gone and the house empty, her office too, and suddenly every space at Richmond is filled with flowers because Roy doesn’t accept a single bouquet.

He does start to say her name, although only to his sister- the only adult he talks to. He spits it out, with venom, and he suspects that it’s this habit that prompts Rebecca to show up at his house.

She sneaks her way in, the stubborn shit. Apparently, she hid down the street until he ordered food, bribed the deliverer with an obscene amount of money, and rang his doorbell herself. Rebecca slips into the entry before Roy realizes it’s her, and slams the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses, and to her credit, Rebecca doesn’t flinch. She gives her best businesswoman smile, the one that so directly contradicts the flint in her eyes, and straightens.

“Someone informed me that you made developments in your grief-

“Fuck you-”

“-so I thought a visit was due.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Somebody told me once that I was always welcome in her home. Has that changed?”

“Yeah. She’s fucking dead.”

Rebecca does bristle at that one but she doesn’t challenge the statement. Instead, she clears her throat, setting Roy’s food down on the table in the foyer.

“Your sister told me how quiet you’ve been. And that any time you talk about Keeley, you do so with an incredible amount of anger.”

Roy doesn’t deign to respond, glowering at Rebecca instead. She takes a look around the room, in all its dusty glory. Lights off, trash piling on the floor, clothes strewn over backs of couches. It matches Roy, in terms of appearance. Unkept. Uncared for. Unloved.

“I’m calling the police,” Roy decides, scanning the room for his phone. “You can’t fucking impersonate a food deliverer. Or fucking be here when I don’t want you to be.”

“I paid him handsomely-”

“-illegal. And fireable.”

“-enough so that his salary for the next few months should be covered.”

“Get out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you’re here to fucking do or say. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“And leave you to stew in your anger and your filth? I don’t think so.”

And Rebecca struts into his living room and seats herself on a sofa.

“Dr. Sharon proposed to me that your anger had legitimate grounds. Not just your usual brooding about playing and coaching a game for a living, but you know,” Rebecca gestures to Roy. “Real reasons to be so surly.”

“My fucking wife died.”

“Yes, well. My best friend died yet I’ve been outside over the past few months.” She gives Roy another placid smile. “Despite the fact that I’m mourning.”

“It’s different.”

“Undoubtedly, yes. You’ve been much unhealthier in your habits.”

“Fuck you,” Roy growls. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.” Keeley would refer to that as Rebecca’s scariest tone. “I came to talk.”

“I don’t care.” His hands clench into fists.

“You’re angry at Keeley.”

“I’m fucking pissed at you and your fucking break-in habits. Did you fucking compare notes with fucking Lasso?”

“You need someplace to direct your anger, and since fate dealt you both such a terrible hand, the only thing you can think to do is blame Keeley.”

“That makes as much fucking sense as you impersonating a takeaway driver. Fuck you.”

“So you go from not being able to say her name to saying it like a curse because you’re much more comfortable with your anger than sorrow.”

“I can say Keeley’s name.”

“Can you say it without sounding like the angriest person on the entire planet, Roy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Rebecca stands. In heels, she towers over Roy, who glares right back at her. “Show me you can, Roy.”

“I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“No. But I asked you to.”

“I’m not fucking angry at my dead fucking wife.”

‘You’re angry at someone.”

“Yeah. You.”

“Come on now, Roy. Do better.”

“I’m NOT fucking angry at Keeley!”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Fuck you.” Roy paces before her, ignoring how every step makes his knee throb. “Fuck you, fuck off. Fuck you.”

“Are you even sad?” Rebecca says quietly, and Roy freezes, his muscles clenching painfully.

“Ask me again,” he dares, his tone low. He takes a step closer to Rebecca, who remains unfazed.

“I said: are you sad your wife died in your arms, Roy?”

“Fuck you!” Roy bellows. He spins away to upturn the coffee table, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

“Do you miss her? Do you wish she hadn’t died?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“So I’ll see Keeley again. How lovely.”

Roy roars, using the full force of his body to punch a hole in the wall. His fist comes out covered in plaster, bright red blood leaking from his knuckles dusted white.

“She fucking died in a freak fucking accident. There’s nothing- nothing- she could have done differently.”

“But she left you.”

“She fucking- she-” Roy’s chest heaves as he looks wildly around the room, at anything but the woman in front of him. “She was supposed to get her fucking nails done. We were going to get Thai for dinner. We had a sexy fucking weekend planned, and she was going to come home and it all would have been fucking fine.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“We can’t do any of that shit. Can’t fucking fall asleep next to her ever again. Or hold her fucking hand. We had fucking plans-” His words catch in his throat, and he looks away, examining the new damage to the wall. “We had plans.”

“Roy-”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes. “You riled me up. Is that what you fucking wanted?”

“Yes,” Rebecca admits, and she retakes her seat on the couch, disregarding the surrounding wreckage. “Since the one person you want to talk to is gone, I figured I’d substitute.”

Roy glances around the house, at the forgotten groceries by the entrance, at the overturned table, and at the destroyed wall. “Good fucking job.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca says swiftly. “I figured I’d be better at it than Ted.”

“I’d have fucking killed him.”

“I thought so.” Rebecca sighs, massaging her temple. For the first time since her arrival, her bravado fades and her shoulders slump. It’s a familiar sight, one Roy witnessed the last time he saw Rebecca- at Keeley’s funeral, where all traces of the usually confident woman had faded away, and a grieving shell stood in her place. “Is that it, then? All the anger is for what’s never to be?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“And this is the first time you’re realizing it?”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, it is.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Okay.”

Silence prevails for a long while, then Roy sighs and takes a seat next to Rebecca.

“You know, my office has quite literally never been quieter. Even with Ted bursting in at all hours, it’s just… not the same. I started to get frustrated at Higgins trying to coordinate with me simply because he’s not the person I want to see. And then I woke up angry, too. Absolutely pissed at the sun just for rising. Because every day that I experience is one I should be sharing with her.”

She looks down at her hands, which tremble slightly. “It’s not fair. And I have nowhere to put all my anger and blame.”

Roy wordlessly gestures to the wall, and Rebecca gives a soft laugh.

“There’s one option.” Then, she swipes at her eyes, and sniffs.

“Keeley would have never forgiven any of us if we gave up on you, Roy.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “She told me as much. About me.” He rolls his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “I’m not supposed to give up on myself.”

“Good job,” Rebecca retorts, and Roy growls, but Rebecca gives another breathy laugh. “You didn’t call the police on me. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

“Don’t let it go to your fucking head.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Thank you,” Roy says very, very quietly. Rebecca takes his hand and squeezes it briefly. Her palm comes away coated in dust and blood.

“Clean up, Roy,” she tells him, standing. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

-

Rebecca leaves, but she sends over a team of cleaners and a fresh batch of groceries. For the first time since Keeley died, his fridge is fully stocked with food for him to make into meals, and the house is spotless. He sends a text to his sister, telling her to fuck off in a way she’ll know means thank you, and showers. He trims his beard and dries himself off with a freshly laundered towel, then he falls asleep ass naked on the bed and sleeps for twelve hours.

He goes to see Phoebe and the rest of his family. They catch him up on all the petty bullshit he doesn’t give a fuck about, and it’s nearly normal, except that he drives home alone to an empty house.

He goes back to yoga, and every stretch feels like he’s never done a downward dog before in his life. Still, the wine after is good, and he ends up going home with a spare bottle and another casserole, and so another part of his life resumes.

It’s a slow process. Richmond is a hard place to face, with Ted trying to be casual as he checks in on him, and the boys stepping around him like glass, and Jaime Tartt in tears when he first catches sight of Roy. Her office, the lack of visits from his wife during the day, and the plaque commemorating her on the wall hurt like getting that phone call all over again. But it’s the beginning of the mourning process, Dr. Sharon will tell him, and now that it’s started, the hurt will eventually lessen.

With every end, a beginning.

Roy takes his first steps.

-

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and a thousand different Roys.

There’s the prodigy footballer, eight years old and scoring goal after goal in every match. There’s the Chelsea player, a championship winner, then the Richmond player, bittered by age. Injured Roy Kent, retired, coaching his kid niece’s football team. Then, briefly: professional commentator. Richmond coach.

Roy Kent, who fucking hates Jaime Tartt except usually his girlfriend is nice at least. Roy Kent, Keeley’s boyfriend. Roy Kent, Keeley’s fiancé, husband- widower.

Roy Kent- a bastard luckily enough that Keeley loved him too. Roy Kent, who lit up when she walked into the room, who smiled more during their time together than he ever had before in his life. Who wanted to start a family with her. Who doted on his wife and promised her the world and a thousand other cheesy things, because she had that power over him.

Roy, who was beside her at the very end, who evoked her last words and smile. Roy, who had that horrible, painful privilege of easing his wife’s passing with reassurances and small comforts and anything he could do to make her feel his love.

Roy, who loves her still. Who’ll die loving her and missing her, and wishing they had just one more day.

Roy, who learns to live to make her proud.

#roy kent #keeley jones #roy x keeley #roy x keeley fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #roy x keeley fanfiction #roy x keeley imagine #roy kent x keeley jones #keeley x roy #angst #oops im so sorry yal #rebecca welton

[robininthelabyrinth]

Could you do something where Jiang Yanli kills Jin Guangshan? Reason why and when are up to you.

“It’s just in case,” Jiang Cheng said.

“A-Cheng…” Jiang Yanli said, smiling helplessly. Her little brother was all grown up now and pretending like it was his duty to be protective of her, rather than the other way around. “A-Cheng, it’s really not necessary. I’m going to my own engagement dinner – I don’t think anyone’s going to cause trouble.”

“It’s just in case.”

“A-Cheng, you do know that once I get married, I’m going to live there, right?” she said, laughing a little helplessly. “I’ll be in Koi Tower all the time. I can’t take Zidian away from you forever.”

“It’s fine after you get married,” Jiang Cheng said. “Jin Zixuan is a peacock, but he loves you; he’ll be by your side as often as he can manage it. But an engagement party like this – it’s so unorthodox to have something like this anyway, I don’t know what LanlingJin is thinking – he’ll be occupied getting congratulations on his side, you on yours, and then you retreat to separate bedrooms. If someone wanted to cause trouble in your marriage, that would be a good night for it. So just take it.”

“I don’t even know how to use Zidian properly!” she protested. “Not the way you do! I always…”

She waved her hands.

“Massively over do it?” Jiang Cheng said dryly.

Jiang Yanli grinned bashfully. “Yes.”

Zidian was a delicate spiritual weapon – in her brother’s hands, it was like watching artistry, the crackle of lightning and the shifts between ring and whip and back, never stronger than he meant it to be, able to draw beautiful patterns in the air that left after-images on the eye.

In Jiang Yanli’s hands…

She’d only ever managed to figure out how to activate Zidian’s self-defense mechanism, an extremely powerful lightning zap designed to send anything it touched into the next room and usually the next life.

“I’d still rather you had it for this party,” he said firmly. “Please, indulge me.”

Jiang Yanli stood on her tip-toes and pulled her little brother down by the collar to press a kiss to his forehead. “Always, A-Cheng.”

No one notices an extra ring on her finger that evening – if anything, she’s under-dressed compared to most of the ladies in Lanling, who cover themselves in gold and jewels; they flock around her and drink just as many toasts as the men do, albeit in their own fashion, and the rest of the evening is spent in gossip. Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure how much she liked any of this, but she supposed the engagement party wasn’t really for her – it was for Madame Jin, presiding over the events and puffed up with pride for having made the engagement work out just the way she and Madame Yu had planned it all those years ago.

If it had been for Jiang Yanli, her brothers would have been invited. Both of them.

Still, as the guest of honor, she’s obligated to stay very late, until the party could realistically be considered over and everyone lingering could pretend that they’d meant to do that anyway. Jiang Yanli pointedly yawned a few times before making her excuses – she didn’t need to fake it all that much, actually, given how much wine she’d drunk, even if she had only taken a single sip for every toast.

Of course, no one grew up with Wei Wuxian as a brother without developing some serious alcohol tolerance, so she’s not as affected as she made herself out to be.

Still, she thinks a little later that night, remarkably clear-headed, being drunk would probably be…helpful.

Jiang Yanli took a moment to survey the scene one more time, made a few small arrangements, nodded to herself, and started screaming Madame Jin’s name.

She’d been given a room in the main family hallway, as befitting her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law status, and Madame Jin had (somewhat reluctantly) bid the rest of her guests farewell shortly after Jiang Yanli left, so it didn’t take long before the woman ran into her room, followed very shortly by Jin Zixuan – they must have been talking in Madame Jin’s rooms.

Jiang Yanli flung herself at her future husband – well, she hoped he was still her future husband – and clutched at him, giving him a meaningful look as she did, hoping he understood. “There’s a man in my room!”

Jin Zixuan’s arms around her were a comfort, and his eyes were narrow as he looked around to see the scene she’d prepared: a man with a sheet over his face, lying against a wall where he’d evidently been thrown.

“Zixuan, you comfort Yanli,” Madame Jin instructed, then turned to the servants. “I want this locked down immediately. No one but you is to know what happened – if anyone asks, the story is that she saw a rat and overreacted after having drunk too much; we’ll figure out the rest later. If the real story gets out, it may affect Yanli’s reputation – and I’ll know it was one of you.”

The servants, pale-faced, rushed out.

“What happened?” Jin Zixuan asked her, and she really appreciated that he didn’t follow his mother’s instructions to comfort her as if she were a child.

She wiped the rather legitimate tears away from her eyes. “I came inside and began to change for bed,” she said. “My maid had just finished putting my hair down when she suddenly said we needed more incense and left –”

“Bought out, most likely,” Madame Jin said, looking grim. It had been a maid she’d appointed herself.

“And the someone came up behind me and put his hands on me,” Jiang Yanli continued. “I pulled away, so he only got my shoulders, but he tried to throw me onto the bed. I couldn’t see who it was, only a blur in the dark; I grabbed a sheet and threw it at his face –”

That was the only part of this story that was a lie. The sheet had been a later addition – and she’d seen exactly who it was.

“How’d he end up across the room?” Jin Zixuan asked, glancing over. His tone wasn’t accusing, at least – more puzzled. It was understandable: Jiang Yanli’s cultivation had never been anything very spectacular.

“He tried to grab me again and Zidian’s self-defense mechanism activated,” she said. “My brother gave her to me so I’d have something of my mother’s to wear at the engagement party…you know we don’t have much of her that’s left.”

Madame Jin’s face softened at the mention of her childhood friend.

“I’m glad he did,” Jin Zixuan said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t even know Zidian had a self-defense mechanism.”

“It’s for people like me who can’t use it properly,” Jiang Yanli explained, leaning her head against him. She was a little confused – they were taking all the actions and precautions she’d hoped they would, keeping the story quiet and listening to her, but…why weren’t they looking at the body?

“I’m glad,” Jin Zixuan said again, and now that her head was against his chest, she could feel that he was shaking. “Mother…what are we going to do?”

“Zidian’s effects are similar to a lightning strike,” Madame Jin said. “Especially the – it was the zap, Yanli?”

Of course Madame Jin would know – Madame Yu had probably told her all about it. Jiang Yanli nodded.

“With the make-up to conceal the impact on the veins, the cause of death could just as easily have been a heart attack,” Madame Jin continued. “We can spin that. Maybe we say he came in here by accident, and in the confusion of realizing he was in the wrong room, had the attack…?”

They’d recognized him, Jiang Yanli realized. From the first moment they’d come in, sheet or no sheet – no. It was better to say that while they hadn’t expected this would happen, it also hadn’t surprised them very much.

Jin Guangshan had truly been a vile human being, if his wife and son didn’t mourn his passing even for a moment.

Jiang Yanli let the stress slip off her shoulders. “That would raise questions,” she said, composed again. “And I won’t be able to marry A-Xuan if people think I killed his father. How about a slightly different spin: the room was dark when I came in, my maid left, and I got up to look around and began screaming when I found the body. It would be obvious what he’d been trying to do, but if he died before I even arrived…”

“No, that’s better,” Jin Zixuan said. “It won’t – no one will be surprised at something like that, from him. I’m sorry. But you screamed very convincingly.”

She smiled at him. “I’m not very good at screaming.”

“If I hadn’t been in a war camp with you, I would’ve believed you?” he offered with a shaky smile.

“I never expected you to,” she said and kissed his cheek. “It was for the benefit of the audience.”

“The sheet was a good touch,” Madame Jin said, and she sounded approving. “The servants wouldn’t have recognized him – some of them will think it was a stranger, inevitably, and that will create additional confusion when the stories leak out…yes, I think a sudden heart attack while waiting is the best approach. We will need to take action, A-Xuan – reach out to everyone we can trust at once.”

“Is there anything I should do?” Jiang Yanli wanted to know.

“No, you’re not a member of the family yet,” Jin Zixuan said. “Your first instinct was right: you need to be the distressed young mistress.”

“Shocked and a little naïve about what he could possibly have been doing there would be best,” Madame Jin agreed. “‘Surely he just wanted to give me another toast’ – that sort of thing. Can you do that?”

“I can try. Most of the women here don’t know me very well, so it should work.”

Jin Zixuan ended up taking her down the hallway to the only other family housed there, knocking at the door. Jin Guangyao had a smile on his face when he answered – but then, he was always smiling.

The smile didn’t alter as Jin Zixuan explained the situation in short terms.

“I would be happy to help,” Jin Guangyao said. “Don’t worry. Miss Jiang is perfectly safe with me.”

#mdzs #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #jin zixuan #madame jin #jin guangyao #my fic #guess it's just a jiang yanli day #Anonymous

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

The Answer

Requested by: anonymous (“Congrats on reaching over 2.5k followers! I was wondering if I could request something with Joe trying to talk the reader out of doing something stupid, but in a funny way?”)

Summary: When Valentine’s Day turns unexpectedly stressful, your favorite coworker Joe Mazzello is there to offer moral support. I may have gotten a little carried away with this one, but it’s all in the spirit of the holiday! 😂 I hope you enjoy it. 💗

Warnings: Language. 

Word Count: 2.2k. 

You can find all my writing here!

Oh my god, this man is about to ask me to marry him.

You are suddenly aware of every immaterial detail, because this is the sort of night you’re supposed to remember forever. This is the sort of night, the sort of story, you’ll be retelling all your life: to parents, to friends, to overly-chatty hairstylists, to coworkers, to children, to grandchildren. The music is slow, sophisticated, French. The dress you’re wearing is lavender and just a stitch too tight in the ribs. The tablecloth is white, the flowers in the centerpiece ruby-red roses. The candlelight bathes Ryan’s face in hot, flickering gold. And he’s smiling, broadly, artfully, like he knows something you don’t. Like maybe he always will.

You’re trying to follow what he’s talking about, but you can’t. It’s some meandering summation of your last two years together: meeting at your mutual friend Sarah’s New Year’s Eve party, numbers tapped into each other’s iPhones, sushi and green tea, browsing through book stores, murky movie theaters and hands entwining on shared armrests, Fourth of July picnics where you socialized gamely with one another’s extended families, kisses that started out light and fleeting in the chilly lobbies of restaurants like this one and turned into hours spent in the rustling shadows of your bedroom. And although the details sometimes evade you, the arc of Ryan’s story is clear: that the journey was perfectly linear, every piece in place, every want and ritual accounted for. That the time has come for the inevitable conclusion.

He reaches across the table to take your hands in his. The last of your beef bourguignon lays unclaimed and forgotten in its bowl. Your appetite has vanished entirely.

“Pierre,” Ryan tells the moustached waiter, grinning triumphantly. “Could you bring out dessert now, please?”

You hear your chair squeal as you bolt to your feet. Your ankles wobble as you balance on your strappy, rather painful silver heels, the ones Ryan likes so much. “I’ll be right back,” you announce. You flash him a reassuring, innocent smile. You gesture apologetically to the wine and water glasses, like it’s all their fault. The perfect fall guys. How dare they interrupt this magical evening.

Ryan suspects nothing. Or—worse, far far worse—he doesn’t care. “Sure, baby. Take your time.”

You zigzag, rather unsteadily, around the restaurant tables—all those other nameless candle-lit couples reminiscing and giggling and feeding each other spoonfuls of quivering chocolate mousse—and crash through the restroom door. There are two college-aged girls touching up their makeup, stark and bone-white under the florescent lights, and they peer quizzically over at you. You take shelter in the nearest stall and lock the door.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You stare at the wall, waiting for a sign. There’s an artsy black-and-white picture of the Eiffel Tower hanging there. Another trivial detail to one day tell your grandchildren about. “Oh my god,” you moan again.

You root through your purse, pull out your iPhone, and find Joe Mazzello in your contacts. You’ve never called him before; you have his number solely in case of work-related emergencies. But your fingers are moving swiftly, almost autonomically; and time is rolling irrevocably forward like a freight train.

“This is clearly a pocket dial,” Joe says as soon as he answers. “There’s no way you’re thinking about me and my subpar sandwich-making abilities on Valentine’s Day.” He’s right about his sandwich skills; they’re honestly abysmal. He’s the worst employee at Quiznos. He always spills the honey mustard everywhere. You, on the other hand, take great pride in your consistently neat, uniform application of condiments. But, nevertheless, Joe is your favorite coworker. Your favorite coworker by a margin that ships could sail through like a drawbridge.

“Help,” you croak.

“Uh...?” Joe’s voice changes. He’s not exactly serious yet—you’re not really sure what a serious Joe Mazzello would even sound like—but he’s definitely apprehensive. “Are you locked in a trunk somewhere...?”

“Wait, no, sorry. I’m not being kidnapped. I’m at L’amour Vrai.”

“Oh, nice!” But he doesn’t sound that thrilled about it. “With Ryan, I’m assuming.”

“Yeah, therein lies the problem.”

Joe is confounded. “...Did he forget to bring you a massive teddy bear and a heart-shaped box of Ferrero Rocher, or...?”

“I think he’s going to ask me to marry him,” you say in a rush, breathlessly. “He’s been rambling about our relationship and being weird and sentimental all through dinner and I think dessert is going to be, like, a giant bowl of chocolate mousse with a ring hidden in the bottom or something and now I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“And you don’t even like chocolate mousse,” Joe notes.

“That’s not really the point, but yeah, true.”

“So what are you going to do?”

You don’t have an answer. You don’t even have threads of thoughts that could be woven into words. Because no matter how seamless and fated Ryan’s story of your relationship sounds, you feel that something is missing. You’ve always felt that way. And you’ve waited—patiently, undemandingly, faithfully—for that one last piece of surety to drop out of the sky and click into place for the past seven-hundred and forty-four days. You’ve waited for indelible magnetism, for that sensation of free-falling, for love; you’ve waited until you started to suspect those things didn’t exist at all except in fiction. But sometimes, just recently, you think you might be catching glimpses of them: in how Joe sends you a clandestine smirk when a customer is agonizing over whether they want cheddar or swiss, in how he invents new combinations of fountain drinks for you to taste and rank on a highly scientific ten-point scale (Cherry Coke-Dr. Pepper is the current champion at 8.5/10), in how he complains incessantly about having to close but will wipe down the same counter fifteen times while you count the money in the register so you don’t have to lock up alone. And those transitory glimpses are enough to show you exactly what a lifetime with Ryan would mean living without.

“You don’t want to say yes,” Joe realizes quietly. “You wouldn’t be freaking out and hyperventilating in the bathroom if you did.”

“I don’t think I can say no.”

Joe snorts. “Lady, this isn’t the sixteenth century. You’re not being traded to this guy for some cows or a military alliance or a duchy in Germany. You can always say no.”

“But we’re in the middle of this fancy restaurant and he’s got the staff in on it, and everyone is going to stare when he asks me, they’ll probably start clapping and making TikToks and I’m going to look like a total bitch if I don’t say yes.”

“Well, yeah,” Joe says, a little darkly. “That was probably the plan. To put you in a position where you felt like you didn’t have a choice.” And you recall that Joe doesn’t seem to like Ryan very much, hasn’t said a single nice thing about him in the six months that have passed since Joe joined the illustrious Quiznos team.

“Maybe I should say yes and then after tonight never speak to him again.”

“You’re...gonna ghost your fiancé? You legitimately think that’s a better plan?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s only going to get harder to back out as this thing picks up momentum. The families will get involved. There will be dress fittings, venue shopping, cake tasting...oh, wait, actually, don’t back out until after the cake tasting. And invite me.”

“I could fake my own death. Or enlist in the Peace Corps. I’ve always wanted to see Mongolia.”

“But then you’d have to give up your promising career in sandwich making.”

“They might have Quiznos in Mongolia.” You sigh, defeated. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. I’m definitely ruining your Valentine’s Day.”

“There’s not much to ruin, honestly. I’m re-watching Tiger King and eating my weight in Skittles.”

Oh, right; Joe and his girlfriend Julie broke up last week. And come to think of it, despite the fact that you don’t have any identifiable reason to feel this way, you’ve never really liked Julie either. “I’ll gladly trade you.”

“I mean, sure, I fucking love chocolate mousse. My apartment is only three blocks away. I can hurry over there and put on your dress and heels and earrings or whatever you’re wearing, but I feel like Ryan might catch on.”

You laugh, your first real, involuntary, jolting laugh of the day. “Genius. Let’s do it.”

“You can say no,” Joe tells you, seriously now. This, as it turns out, is what a serious Joe Mazzello sounds like: warm, concerned, measured, his typically frenetic energy temporarily wrangled. “If he asks you to marry him and you want to say no, you can say no.”

“Okay,” you reply, taking a deep breath, resolved.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll say no.”

“Cool.” Joe sounds pleased; proud, even.

“Alright. I’m gonna go. Thanks, Joe. Seriously. Thank you so much.”

“No problem. You can mop up my next honey mustard spill as a show of gratitude.”

“Deal,” you say with a smile, and then you hang up.

Waiting for you back at the table is the moustached waiter cheerfully playing a violin, Ryan’s luminous grin, and a glass chalice full of chocolate mousse. Jesus christ. Chocolate fucking mousse.

Ryan motions for you to take a bite. You obediently sit down, pick up your spoon with a quaking hand, dip it into the center of the chocolate mousse...and lift out a diamond ring. You unleash a gasp of horror that Ryan mistakes for—or, perhaps, is determined to believe is—elation.

Ryan plucks the ring off your spoon, wipes it clean with a red cloth napkin, and slips out of his chair to kneel at your feet. Blood is pounding frantically in your ears. Your courage has evaporated. Your legs feel numb, jellylike, boneless. How the hell are you going to walk out of here after you say no? How the hell are you going to say no at all?

Ryan is reciting some generic, Hallmark-card speech. The other restaurant patrons are beaming, clapping, already assuming your answer. Ryan asks you the question. Your trembling hand is now resting at the base of your flushed throat like a noose. Your words are ghosts.

“I...” you sputter. “I...um...”

“Go ahead,” Ryan says, nodding, smooth and undaunted. And suddenly you know that Joe was right; every single part of this was planned. Ryan turns to the crowd. “Aw, folks, give her a hand, she’s shy!”

And as they cheer and whistle encouragingly, as Ryan waits for your acquiescence, as your hope for those things you’ve only caught glimpses of begins to wither like autumn leaves, someone steps between you and Ryan and fills up the hollow, hungry space left by your silence. It’s Joe.

“No no no,” he tells Ryan. His voice is ostensibly matter-of-fact and yet formidable. “She’s not shy. She’s just trying to figure out her answer. And she doesn’t need some random strangers in a French restaurant to help her out with that.” Joe looks at you and raises his eyebrows. “Go ahead. Whenever you’re ready.”

“What the...?!” Ryan exclaims, his eyes shifting from you to Joe. The other patrons are extremely bewildered. The waiter’s violin playing screeches to a halt.

“No,” you say, your courage flooding back in, a slow smile igniting across your face.

Ryan doesn’t understand. “No...?”

“No. My answer is no. The past two years have been nice, but this is over now. I’m not right for you, Ryan. You’re not right for me either. And I think you know that. So goodbye.”

You stand, sling your purse over your shoulder, and follow Joe out of L’amour Vrai; but not before you yank off your silver high heels and leave them there on the restaurant floor. The other guests are in scandalized uproar now. Ryan is still kneeling, furious and in shock. Outside it is bitingly cold and your breath turns to fog in the night air; the chilly concrete sidewalk soothes the aching soles of your feet.

Joe is ecstatic, his eyes gleaming under the streetlights as you walk together. “That was incredible! Did you see his face?! He totally thought he was going to be able to bully you into saying yes and you were not having it, you are a beast my dear, I hope some of those people put you on TikTok, I hope you get TikTok famous for being freaking awesome, then you can get rich and buy a mansion and let me live in the pool house and I’ll never have to work or suffer another honey-mustard-related catastrophe again—”

“Joe.” You stop him abruptly, resting a palm against his chest, gazing up at him beneath the cold stars. And after a moment he understands, and he kisses you. You catch more than a glimpse of those beautiful things you’d feared might not exist. They light up like the goddamn Eiffel Tower.

“I’ve wanted that for six months,” Joe says as he pulls away, softly, shakily, smiling almost shyly.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I think I have too.”

Joe takes your face in his hands and kisses you again. He tastes like heat and harmony and laughter and Skittles; but more than all of that, he tastes like love.

#sleepover event! #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzelo x reader

[kaylorrehabcenter]

Gold Rush and Happiness are Sisters

Gather round everyone and witness the clown try to prove that Taylor Swift wrote songs about a married (now pregnant) woman in the year of our lord 2020.

Also this is a seven page doc in my google docs so like. Get a cup of tea and some popcorn.

Ok full disclosure this is…..mostly me clowning. Like seriously. Don’t take my words as the word of God, this is just my interpretation and how I listen to the songs. And as a (former? Idk man) Kaylor I’m going to want to make these songs about my ship. Acknowledge your biases kids.

Also like. I change my mind a lot, but for a while this theory that Gold Rush and Happiness are connected has been stuck in my head and I wanted to write it down and post it in case anyone else got something out of this.

If you read my last post on Gold Rush (here!) you’ll know I don’t think of it as a happy song. To elaborate further- I think it’s Taylor catching herself looking back on Karlie/that time in her life (Because I think Karlie is emblematic of the 1989 era for Taylor and is thus tied to the pain that came out of that, along with her ties to the masters heist) and reminding herself it wasn’t good and ended for a reason.

“Gleaming, twinkling/eyes like sinking ships on waters/so inviting, I almost jump in”

“But I don’t like a gold rush” 

The sinking ship line makes me laugh. I like to think it’s Taylor saying she’s literally sunk our (dead) ship, but that’s mostly regressing to 2015 tumblr humur.

To the actual analysis, she almost jumps into these waters, maybe it’s literal (don’t text your ex kids, write a bop like closure instead) or maybe it’s more metaphorical. She almost allows herself to think the good times were the only times. Maybe there’s a desire to move back to nyc, capture the magic that she may have felt during the era. 

“I don’t like that flying feels like falling till the bone crush”

But that’s the thing. It feels like flying at the time, but it isn’t a feeling that can last. These relationships built on temporary promises (we’re assuming here Taylor was a side thing for Karlie, not that serious and built not to last, even if there were genuine romantic feelings on both sides, which I think there were to some level) won’t last, and will hurt when they do end. At least, this one did.

“Everyone wonders what it would be like to love you”

Everybody wants who she’s singing about and is imagining what it would be like to be with them, they think it would be a fairytale. Hell, Taylor probably thought their relationship would be a fairytale against her better judgement. Karlie is a celebrity and a model no less, yes she has other things going for her (Koding and investments), her brand and her success in the fashion world depends to some degree people desiring and fantasizing about her.

“I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch”

The funny thing about that, Taylor’s the only one who knows the pain of that relationship, of being a side thing and never committed to. It’s draining. It's difficult. She isn’t allowing herself to jump into those waters.

“I see me padding across your wooden floor/with my Eagles t shirt hanging on the door”

I point out this line mostly because it feels like a Delicate call back (Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs). Am I reaching though? Probably. Also as someone with parents about the same age as Taylor’s (give or take ten years), I like the Eagles reference. Stream Hotel California for clear skin <3

“At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit”

Taylor was the first person to call Karlie out on her “I’ve tried!!” bullshit, how cute. <3

Besides this line being very iconic, it also shows to me that Taylor’s been frustrated with Kar even when she was busy giving her heart eyes. She’s a frustrating person to be around even when you are “turning her life into folklore”.

“What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?/With your hair falling into place like dominoes”

Damn that’s a gay couples lines you got there Tay. Wonder if you’re wondering what it must’ve been like for Kar to grow up in the model industry, and all of the pressure and exhilaration that entails. From a male’s perspective ofc.

I also take the dominoes line to be Taylor saying what must’ve it been like to have this easy idyllic childhood. Maybe Taylor is the first time Karlie’s been with a girl outside of a hookup and didn’t have to go through the pain of realizing she was into women until later in life. (Not that that’s not painful, it’s just different, and allows you to have a perfectly straight childhood/teenagerhood)

“And the coastal town we wandered 'round had nеver seen a love as pure as it/And thеn it fades into the gray of my day-old tea/'Cause it could never be”

Maybe this relationship never existed in the way she thought at all. You know Carrie Fischer’s character in When Harry Met Sally and how until she meets the right guy, she spends the whole movie insisting that whatever married guy she’s seeing really loves her!! And he’s gonna leave his wife for her!! That’s what these two songs make me think about, waking up and realizing they were never going to leave their wife, you were projecting this whole story onto someone else, but that doesn’t mean there was no value in what happened.

“And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it/'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea/'Cause it will never be”

The coastal town seems an obvious Rhode Island reference, to get more specific it reminds me of when Josh and Karlie visited Taylor at her Rhode Island home in 2014 and Josh looks peeved as hell. 1, 2 Also if I remember correctly, enty has a blind where he says there was a huge fight between Josh and Taylor which ended in Taylor not wanting to be around him again. Just interesting to note. (And if anyone has the receipt, please send it my way!)

Taylor may have been projecting this fairytale narrative at the time of being able to make it work, of being friends with Josh even but it didn’t work and the fairytale is left to be folklore, never made real.

The outro is the same as the intro to the song, implying to me that while she’s telling herself it was bad, you weren’t happy, she’s still catching herself missing it and what she had with Karlie. She left a part of her back in New York see, and she can’t stop her mind from retracing old footsteps.

Now, onto how I think Happiness and how I think it connects. I’m about to audition for the national team in the reaching Olympics. Wish me luck. :)

A bit of a preamble though, I don’t take this song ~super~ literally. Depending on what day of the week it is I think it’s probably her divorcee rpg simulator or her closing the book on her ex situationship gf on her own terms ~in a straight way~. So not to discredit this whole ass post but. Take with a grain of salt.

“Honey, when I'm above the trees/I see this for what it is”

See that bold bit? That’s the main connective tissue between these songs. She’s finally woken up and now that she’s this far removed from the relationship she sees what it was. To add to the pain of it all, this is especially potent if you wonder if Karlie gaslit Tay into thinking this wasn’t a big deal, they were just fucking around when Karlie has literal Softest Love Song You Are In Love dedicated to her.

“But now I'm right down in it, all the years I've given/Is just shit we're dividin' up”

This seems to me to be a masters heist reference. Karlie since Lover, is musically tied to this event in Taylor’s life, it’s what I think is keeping Tay from making a clean break from her so to speak. 

“Showed you all of my hiding spots/I was dancing when the music stopped”

This seems to be a Rep era/dwoht reference. Yes, Taylor constantly references dancing, but the hiding spots (loved you in secret! you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis!) combined with the dancing when the music stopped (I'd kiss you as the lights went out! Swaying as the room burned down!) brings out the full kaylor clown in me. 

“There'll be happiness after you/But there was happiness because of you/Both of these things can be true”

This is probably some of the most gut wrenching lyrics Taylor’s ever written. Damn, imagine having that written about you. Anyway, the point here is the thesis of this whole damn post. Gold Rush is Taylor catching herself daydreaming about the happy parts, and reminding herself about the bad to make her snap out of it. Happiness is her coming to terms that both parts of that relationship were true. Things aren’t that simple. 

“Haunted by the look in my eyes/That would've loved you for a lifetime/Leave it all behind”

This feels very Cruel Summer doesn’t it? “I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” These lines make this relationship read as two things to me. One, it was very one sided, and Taylor/the narrator, was obviously left behind at the end of it when she was heavily invested into making this work. And 2, it was doomed from the beginning. Again. Big cruel summer energy here.

Or it’s a divorcee rpg simulator 3000. Now with extra glamour and opportunities to dramatically drink wine in dressing gowns.

I don’t have a lot to say about the second verse of the song that. Karlie has a nice smile, Gatsby reference, dig at whoever the next person to take Taylor’s place as a side fling (or a dig at Josh, or a baby reference since that’s what the Gatsby line refers to). The only other thing worthy of note for this post is the line following the Gatsby reference.

“No, I didn't mean that/Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury”

 is the next line, where she regrets what she just said and admits to saying overly harsh things and overlooking the truth of the matter when she’s angry, which to me feels like a big Afterglow/Me! reference.

“There'll be happiness after me/But there was happiness because of me/Both of these things, I believe”

I think a lot of what Taylor’s doing emotionally in the chorus is legitimizing this relationship for herself. Yeah, Josh and Karlie will have a happy life in Florida with Ivanka and them, but Taylor also made Karlie happy too and she doesn’t want Karlie to forget it. 

It reminds me of the way she talks about August, that she genuinely loves James/Karlie, and thinks they have something. But she’s just the pit stop on the commitment highway, and the depth of her feelings for the other person will never be acknowledged. It’s exhausting you know?

“In our history, across our great divide”

“Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea/That you put between you and me”

Nothing to see here, just a nifty parallel. Karlie doesn’t want wrinkles in her new life see.

“There is a glorious sunrise/Dappled with the flickers of light/From the dress I wore at midnight, leave it all behind/And there is happiness”

This bit (which has some of my favorite imagery in this whole dang album!!!) reminds me of the end of the Wildest Dreams mv where she runs out to the car with the lover following her after the big charade of pretending not to care as much as she does, while knowing you aren’t the one that got picked.

Interestingly, if you look at the shot of the four characters together near the end, the outfits parallel the ones worn by Kar, Tay, and Josh at the 2014 Met Gala. This was of course the one where Tay and Kar got ready together and Karlie proceeded to spend the night with Josh and where Tay just looks. Miserable. (see here!)

The line also parallels Wildest Dreams lyrically.

“Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress/Staring at the sunset, babe”

Which you know. Worth noting.

The last line (And there is happiness) seems to point to there being happiness in leaving the bad situation just as much as there was happiness in the situation. It’s Time to Go anyone?

“I can't make it go away by making you a villain/I guess it's the price I paid for seven years in Heaven”

A series of thoughts. One, I love the first line where Taylor acknowledges anger isn’t going to make it better. There’s only so much being angry in this situation will do, and it’s not like Taylor’s record is clean here either. (I mean I assume. We know she went psycho on the phone anyway)

Two. Seven years in heaven is both a play on a famous game/turn of phrase (Seven minutes in heaven) but one of the more bold references to Karlie in her whole damn discography. Do I think they’ve been together for seven years straight? Not really. But do I think Taylor saw an opportunity and jumped on it? Yep. 

“And I pulled your body into mine/Every goddamn night, now I get fake niceties”

No thoughts head empty this line is a sucker punch and I love it. If anyone needs me I’ll be watching her perform ikywt on the vsfs and crying to yail.

“All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness”

Oh look! Another Gatsby reference. Or Taylor calling Karlie out on profiting off of her association with Tay after they clearly did not end on good terms. (Folklore themed maternity shoot anyone?) I mean, whatever floats your boat. 

A bit on the green light metaphor from Gatsby, because it’s worth noting even if I don’t have much more to say on it here.

“Situated at the end of Daisy’s East Egg dock and barely visible from Gatsby’s West Egg lawn, the green light represents Gatsby’s hopes and dreams for the future. Gatsby associates it with Daisy, and in Chapter 1 he reaches toward it in the darkness as a guiding light to lead him to his goal.”

Yes I copied that from Spark Notes. No I am not sorry. I have an exam tomorrow and I’m writing about a dead ship on a dead social media website. Sometimes we do what we must do.

I love the ending of this song, I really really do, it feels like taking in a breath of air and finally feeling free of the weight you’re carrying. It feels like a final goodbye, like Tay’s getting closure on her own terms and I truly love that for her. Bb’s stepping out into the daylight. <3 

There is happiness

In our history, across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

From the dress I wore at midnight, leave it all behind

Oh, leave it all behind

Leave it all behind

And there is happiness

So, what was this whole seven page post for then? 

Gold Rush and Happiness being connected has been a theory rattling around in my brain for forever and I’ve wanted to write it down for just as long. The tldr of it all is pretty simple, Gold Rush is about her reminiscing about the good parts of Kaylor, and pulling herself out of it, reminding herself it was bad and bad for her. Happiness is her legitimizing the relationship, and moving on while acknowledging there was bad and good in their story. It just took me seven goddamn pages to articulate that.

If you’ve reached the end of this. Damn. Thanks. Go get a snack or something, you deserve it after reading this.

#<3 #hope this entertains y'all like i said been wanting to write it down for a while #hope i explained my points well!!! #kaylor lyrics #kaylor analysis #gold rush analysis #happiness analysis #oh and let me know if the links work!

[softluci]

omg, hey, how r u, hi, so nice to see u; welcome to my 3AM (now 6AM bc miss hellsite deleted everything) ramblings (which i will try to make as close to the original as possible); this one’s gonna be a Doozy

now that ap testing is over and i have more time to care about literally everything else, i realize that i . i am So Bad at taking care of myself. like, so bad. and i actually realized this months ago but i didn't have this account months ago and i didn't think of this months ago so—

((i was debating whether or not to limit this to gen z but i know it isn't just us who do this; or maybe that’s wishful thinking and it Is just us, but idk, man,, i feel like millennials be doing this too))

sometimes, a lot of the time i just . don't eat . and i don't have a bad or difficult relationship to food or an eating disorder or anything like that, i just Don't Do It because i either legitimately forgot or i didn't feel hungry even if i hadn't eaten for a significant period of time (6-18hrs, we'll say, because i do lose track). like,, when quarantine started, i was in my room, door Locked, for 15 to 19 hours a day + i wouldn't leave unless i had to use the bathroom or shower. i only started eating and leaving my room more because my mom had to ask me to. oh, and this should be obvious, but i don't sit and eat dinner with my family either.

additionally, and this is Much More Frequent, i don't sleep. i know i don't sleep because i slept for nine hours today and woke up dazed and confused. when we had school, i would either sleep for 1-6 hours or just not at all. and then i'd go to school and not pack anything to eat :p. i actually think the longest i've gone without sleep is a full day. and i don’t have insomnia or anything like that, i just be Staying Up

so, with those things in mind, i've been wondering, like,, like how the boys would react to an m/c like that, you know?

like, okay, first of all,, there's No Way mammon is gonna let mc sit alone in their room all day. his emotional support human?? alone without him??? unacceptable. it just isn't happening. he would Literally break mc's door down if they tried to keep him out, unless they, for some reason, really, really, really needed to be alone, and even then it is a Tossup. and then not sleeping or eating? hello, what do you think this is? he would accommodate them for a little while by bringing them food and making sure they slept but after a while he would literally drag them out of their room because there is no way. there is No Way he’s letting them turn into levi. not on his watch 

an mc like this would give luci an ulcer. a literal ulcer. why are you a human and playing with the limits of your body?? who are you, do you think you’re made of metal? do you realize you have classes to attend and that you’re surrounded by demons literally All The Time? you cannot be caught lacking (i.e. feeling faint or fatigued because you haven’t eaten in seventeen hours or slept in a day). he would bring food to your room so he could make sure you ate, but when it came to sleeping? get ready to literally be dragged/carried out of your room and into his because he has work to do and he needs to keep an eye on you because Clearly you cannot be trusted to take care of yourself. he would probably go as far as to stop doing work and go to bed so you have nothing to hold against him. can’t sleep at a regular time because of your nonexistent sleep schedule? that’s okay because, beloved, He Is Putting You To Sleep. how he does so is up to you; and if you try to play like you’re Fine?? 

“mc, it’s seven pm, when was the last time you ate?” “five.” “am or pm?” “...” “well, when was the last time you slept?” “i haven’t.” “MC.” 

you haven’t slept in just over a day? baby, levi’s record is three. he would be absolutely terrible for an m/c like this; he would enable them So Hard. maybe he would bring them food (and that’s Snacks, not actual food), and Maybe he would tell them to go to sleep once or twice, but Other Than That? he can’t take care of himself for Shit either, sorry you had to hear it from me, leviastans <3

asmo,, you are worrying this man Sick. you haven’t eaten in fifteen hours? are you on a diet? no? you Forgot To Eat? how many hours of sleep have you gotten? one? you Think? oh, Maybe it was two? ah, yes, mc, because that is So Much Better. seriously, though, if you won’t eat, fine, but if there’s one thing you’re doing, it’s sleeping. you can’t sleep at a decent time because you have no concept of a sleeping schedule? sweetie. beloved. he is putting you to sleep, be it through relaxing self care or something else, darling, you are knocking out. and when you wake up, he’ll have a full course meal ready and he will literally feed it to you himself.

what’s that? you haven’t eaten since Yesterday and it’s three in the afternoon? oh,, you sweet summer child, beel is heartbroken. keep insisting that you aren’t hungry while you can barely stand and his eyes will fill with tears. you don’t wanna leave your room? fine, but that is the only thing keeping him from throwing you over his shoulder and going to the kitchen. he would literally bring you as much food as he could carry and only eat a little bit on the way back to your room. can’t sleep? not a problem, wait there while he gets belphie to charm your pillow. do Not worry, teddy bear beel always has your back MUAH

speaking of belphie,, tell that man you haven’t slept in a day and he’s stopping what he’s doing, dragging you to the nearest cushioned surface, and laying down with you; you’ll be out in No Time. and once you’re up?? he’s dragging you to the kitchen and you’re eating any and everything he puts in front of you, and he’s not leaving you alone until you’re functioning like a human and not a gremlin, or so help him, you’ll die a second time. 

you’re like, op,, y did u put satan last?? i couldn’t think of anything for him until now, i Swear i love him, okay, Anyway, you haven’t eaten in almost a day? do all humans do that? no?? why can you Barely Stand??? do you need to be carried to the kitchen? he is so confused as to why you just Haven’t Eaten when that is a basic function that humans need to complete or else they literally die; now wait in your room while he brings you something to eat. you can’t sleep?? do Not worry, that man will curl up with you and read to you until you’re Knocked Out, which won’t take long because he has a calming presence and a soothing voice, sweetheart, u r in good hands

ok it’s 7AM and i’m contemplating doing the undateables,, should i do the undateables? i’m gonna do the undateables. 

oh my god,, if luke finds out that you haven’t eaten in, eighteen hours and you haven’t slept in like twenty,, the way you’re gonna have to put in Work to convince him that you did those things of your own volition and the demons you live with aren’t starving or overworking you and No they aren’t forcing you to lie about anything. after you’ve done that, he is seeing to it that you eat something right away; it does not matter where you are, you are a human and you’re feeling Faint around literal demons, are you Dumb? are you Dumb of Ass?? come with him immediately before you hurt yourself or get hurt, he is feeding you and then you’re sleeping in his room and he’s Not taking no for an answer; don’t even think about telling him no, he’ll cry at you. 

you cannot tell me simeon is not the doting/fussing type, okay, and he is appalled. Appalled. what did you just say. the reason why you don’t look so good is because you’ve been up since Yesterday and you haven’t eaten since then either? why? what do you mean you forgot to eat; what kind of human Forgets To Eat? oh, you didn’t forget? you just didn’t feel like getting up? you’re gonna give him an ulcer. if he doesn’t do anything else, he is getting you something to eat, you literally just activated every older sibling/parental instinct he has from luke being an angel. he will literally take you to the closest place with food, sit you down, and buy you whatever you want, and if you say you don’t want anything, he’ll buy you one of everything and give the leftovers to beel, do Not test him. and when you’re done eating, you’re taking a nap. where? anywhere. no one will disturb you so long as he’s there, you’ll sleep perfectly fine <33

dia is half horrified and half intrigued. you haven’t slept in how long? are humans supposed to do that?? NO??? like,, part of him wants to see how long you can last without sleep or food just to see the limits of the average human and part of him wants to feed you and make sure you sleep immediately. he would have to fight every urge to do the former, but once he did, you are eating everything he finds and you are sleeping for however long his Humans 101 manual says you should sleep for. 

i am so thoroughly convinced that solomon literally would not care at all you have No Idea- 

like,,, i just feel like he’d ask you if you were alright because you looked a little off and you’d tell him you hadn’t slept or eaten in a while and he’d first look at you like you were literally out of your mind and then depending on where you were, Maybe keep you company (read: make sure nothing happens to you) while you take a nap, or Maybe buy you food, or take you to the house or purgatory hall (whichever’s closer) because he wouldn’t leave you alone,, surrounded by demons, ever; let alone in your current state. ok wow maybe he does care what a sweetie

barbatos would literally. he would keep his ^_^ cool facade, but on the inside he would be Screaming. full throttle internal screaming that has been going on for centuries just got several notches louder because you can’t take care of yourself, i hope ure happy. you haven’t slept since yesterday? one notch. you didn’t eat breakfast or lunch? another notch. you feel faint? oH WOW REALLY??? I FUCKING WONDER WHY another notch. come with him. please come with him before he blows a fuse for the first time in 400 years because you think you’re an exception to the rules of being a human. he’s feeding you and putting you to sleep whether you think you’re fine or not; don’t argue with him, he already takes care of his immortal boss who is the equivalent of an excited child on most days or a troublesome teenager on others and he Does Not Lose Arguments. 

ok it’s almost 11am goodnight now <3

#i really do be rambling huh #wow #obey me #obey me! #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviastan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me dia #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons

[shawol9196]

Off-Air (Oneshot; Jongho; ~2.2k)

When Jinki drives Jonghyun home from the radio station meeting, he learns a little more about his off-air life than he’s expecting. 

“So why do you dislike that Choi guy so much?” one of the other DJs asks as Jinki sits down next to Jonghyun. 

It’s weird for them to all be here together: a huge gathering of DJs and radio staff all gathered into a tiny bar. But Jinki’s excited for a night out without having to be on interacting-with-consumers behavior, so he figures he’ll let it unfold as it will. 

Jonghyun takes a sip of whatever soju concoction he’d ordered before looking over. 

“Well first off he’s my number one competitor for my time slot.”

“You know you don’t own the hours of 12-2am, right?” Jinki teases.

Jonghyun glares and Jinki isn’t sure if it’s at the comment or the interruption. “Second, it’s annoying to have listeners calling in to talk about another DJ while you’re DJing, if you didn’t know. His music is too broad in genre. Like I get it’s a show of soundtracks but I’m not and never will be emotionally ready to switch from “My Heart Will Go On” right into “Footloose.” Also he’s too damn tall.”

Jinki nearly spits out his drink at the last item in the list. The other DJ had wandered off halfway through the spiel, but now Jinki’s interest was piqued. 

“Too tall?”

“He’s 6’2” and that’s too tall.”

“And that matters...?”

“Jinki I know you’re my boss and you know I cherish you in that way and also in a friendly way but you’re too tall to understand my feelings about people who are too tall. Your complete averageness in terms of height prevents you from understanding the full plight I speak of.”

“First off I’m the show producer not your boss. Second of all I’m only two inches taller than you, tops. I thought you had to be under 5’4” to complain about height. Third, how do you know his exact height?” 

Jonghyun ignores his comments in favor of finishing his drink. As silence falls between them, Jinki finds himself reminiscing of the now locally famous Choi-Kim radio rivalry. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this purple dusk radio?”

“Yes it is. I’m DJ Jonghyun and you’re lucky caller number 4!”

“Oh my goodness!”

“What’s your name?”

“Miyoung.”

“I’ve got the prize package right here for you, Miyoung, all ready to go, I just need you to do one thing for me alright? Just tell me one thing you enjoy about purple dusk radio.”

“Well, to be honest, normally I listen to silver screen on channel 99...but I just happened to tune in to this station for the first time tonight and it really fits in with my music taste.”

“So what I’m hearing is purple dusk has a better selection than silver screen does?”

“It fits better with my likes, yes.”

“Well congratulations, Miyoung, you won! Just promise me you’ll stay tuned in to the better midnight show, okay?”

Jinki listens as the girl on the phone starts squealing in excitement and Jonghyun signs off for the commercial break. Once the “ON AIR” sign is deluminated, Jinki laughs at Jonghyun’s little victory wiggle. 

“Did you hear that, Jinki? We saved another poor soul from having to listen to silver screen!”

Jinki jumps at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. It’s Kim Kibum, producer for silver screen. The rivalry between DJs didn’t extend to them -- mostly due to graduating from the same college program. 

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

“You looked pretty far away there for a second, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, not at all. I was just remembering an old show.”

Kibum slides into the seat that previously held Jonghyun. 

“Any particular show? I mean you’ve only been on this show for six years now.” 

“A particular one but for no particular reason.”

The conversation is interrupted by the bartender appearing. Jinki waits for Kibum to order, turning around to glance around the restaurant for Jonghyun. He finds him at another table with a few other DJs from their station. 

“Minho’s got a significant other but he won’t tell me about them.” Kibum huffs once he gets his beer. 

“If he won’t tell you about them how do you know he has one?”

“I overheard him on the phone and ‘I love you, honeybun’ doesn’t seem like something you’d say to everyone, now does it? Also he has a new ring, one of those ones that leaves an impression of a heart when you take it off.”

“Kibum, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you make a great producer but you would’ve been a great detective.”

Kibum laughs before sipping his beer. 

“So how are things at PYQK, besides the fact that Minho won’t share all the naughty details of his love life with you?”

“I never said I wanted the naughty details; even some sweet vagues would be nice. The station’s doing well. And at PYXQ?”

“Basically the same. Why doesn’t Minho ever come to these, besides the fact that Jonghyun’s here?”

Kibum scoffs as he puts down his beer. “He goes to work out after the show finishes like some kind of weirdo.”

“To each his own, I guess.” Jinki goes to take a sip of his drink, but pauses. “Weird question that I’ll explain the context of afterwards, but how tall is he?”

“Who? Minho? Bit over 6’ I’d say. Why?”

“Someone was asking Jonghyun why he doesn’t like Minho and one of the reasons was he’s too tall, but he said a very specific height, which I thought was a bit odd.”

“I think Jonghyun may be trying to get in on that sort of experience,” Kibum says with a giggle, pointing to where Jonghyun’s begun standing on a barstool and thanking people for coming to the party that he absolutely did not partake in planning. 

“Oh jeez...I’ll see you later, dude.”

Jinki makes his way over to Jonghyun quick as he can; persuading him to come down off the stool isn’t easy but eventually he manages. 

“I just wanted to make sure that everyone could see me!” Jonghyun explains with a hiccup as Jinki pulls him out towards the parking lot. 

“Where are we going?” Jonghyun slurs, clutching Jinki’s arm to help steady himself.

“I’m going to drop you off at your house since you’re in no condition to drive.”

“How do you know that?” 

Jinki gives him a stern look and continues guiding Jonghyun to his car. It takes Jonghyun a few minutes to remember his address to punch into the GPS but soon enough they’re on their way. 

It surprises Jinki to realize he’s never been to Jonghyun’s house. The latter had visited him many times for holiday parties and garden dinners but not once in the four years they’ve worked together on purple dusk had he ever gone to -- or been invited to -- Jonghyun’s place. The house isn’t that big, but it has a pretty little garden in front and there’s something charming about it that seems perfectly Jonghyun. As they walk up the driveway, Jonghyun seems to perk up and Jinki is somewhat relieved to see a light through the living room window. 

“My house!”

“Well I’m glad you recognize it.”

Just as quickly as it appeared, the perky feeling dissipates and Jonghyun stops in his tracks. 

“I don’t have people over at my house.”

“I just want to make sure you can get in, I’ll leave right after okay?”

“I...don’t want...can’t let people know about him.”

“About who?”

“Him.”

“Come on, I just want to make sure you can get in.”

Begrudgingly he starts walking again, searching his pockets for his keys. Eventually he finds them but after four attempts to unlock the door it's clear he’s too drunk for such a delicate operation. Just as Jinki goes to offer to try, the door opens. 

If Jonghyun revealed himself to be an alien at this very moment, it wouldn’t surprise him more than seeing Choi Minho standing in Jonghyun’s doorway. 

“Oh, hello, Jinki. I...wasn’t expecting anyone to be with him.”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here either, least of all you.”

It takes Jonghyun a moment to process that the door is open but once he does he immediately wraps himself around Minho, seemingly forgetting about Jinki’s existence.

“Baby I had fun at the party and I missed you.”

Minho’s cheeks turn pink as Jinki’s jaw drops to the floor. 

“Do you...why don’t you come in for a bit so we can talk?”

“I...if that’s fine with Jjong I’d like that.”

It takes a few minutes of fussing and denied kisses for Minho to send Jonghyun off to shower. He joins Jinki in the living room after a moment, sitting opposite him. 

“Don’t the two of you hate each other?” Jinki asks before Minho has a chance to say anything. 

An odd smile crosses Minho’s face. “Only publicly. We’re very affectionate at home, as you can see.”

“How long have...”

“Have we been together?”

“I was going to say be friendly but yeah that’s also included in the question I guess.”

“We met in college, partnered for a project in a journalism elective.”

“Really. Did you get unpartnered for bad behavior or something?”

“No, actually-”

Minho’s interrupted by Jonghyun unceremoniously plopping on the couch with the highest amount of dramatic flair he can muster, still oblivious to Jinki’s continued presence. He’s snuggled up to Minho and asleep before he can even react. As confused as Jinki is, it’s a warming sight.

“As I was saying, we actually got along really well. Got bonus points on the project for being cooperative. We got into the habit of hanging out and things just...kinda went from there. We’ve been living here since I graduated. Sleepy here inherited it from his grandparents.”

“So wait...why the rivalry? Like we all legitimately thought that you two hate each other.”

Minho chuckles, but Jinki can’t tell if it's in amusement or in sadness. 

“It was his idea, oddly enough. I don’t know if you remember the predecessor to silver screen, but it was... to put it kinder than Kibum would, it was a mess. So when I got hired, it was made very clear that if I didn’t make it successful, I would get fired, Yunho -- the producer that pitched it -- would probably get fired, and the station would basically have to resort to playing ads and royalty free spa music during that slot. Jjong had already got purple dusk comfortable by that point so he was trying to give me pointers and things. It didn’t really help though; Kibum always said it wasn’t my hosting that was driving people away, it was the bad taste left from the old show. Obviously he couldn’t just give me a shoutout, being on different stations at the same time and all, so he came up with hyping the competition. I always thought that we should’ve included you guys on it, but he said it’d make it feel manufactured if you all knew and also tried to play it up.”

“Oh, so that’s why I’ve had to hear Kibum complain about not knowing about your love life for two years now.” Jinki teases. 

“Oh man, he’s got you hooked in on that too? I swear I can’t make a personal call at the station without at least 4 people scooting as close as they think they can get away with to eavesdrop.”

“If it makes you feel better, he was just as inquisitive about when I started dating my now-wife back in college.”

“I am not surprised in the least.”

An awkward silence falls between the two as Jonghyun starts to snore and Jinki struggles to process.

“It was hard to get used to the act, when we first started it. We’d both come home all apologetic -- ‘I know I said you sound grating but your tone was so nice today’ or ‘I’m sorry I was so mean today, but how can you not be mean when the theme of the show is noir films’, that kind of thing. Now it’s just a bit of a game. I always listen to the podcast recording when I go to the gym and come home telling him he’s recycled insults.”

Jinki chuckles and checks his phone. There’s a few messages from Kibum, asking him where he’s headed off to and if he took Jonghyun home. 

“I suppose you should probably be heading home now. I know we live the night life already but I’m sure your wife would appreciate you coming home before the sun.” Minho says as he tries to wiggle his way out of Jonghyun’s grasp. 

“You’re probably right. We don’t have the luxury of the same working hours like some people do.”

They walk to the door and Jinki half expects Jonghyun to wake up, but he doesn’t. 

“Thanks for bringing him home. While it is amusing that such a lightweight enjoys gatherings so much, I do worry about him getting home in one piece.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Even if it was, this dramatic turn of events made it worth it. Good luck with your show tomorrow and surviving Sherlock Holmes- I mean Kibum’s investigations.”

Minho cracks a smile and nods a thank you, waiting til Jinki gets into his car to close the front door. Through the living room window he can see him carrying Jonghyun to bed. His phone pings again, Kibum continuing to be nosy. For a brief moment he thinks to share the news with Kibum but instead closes his phone and heads home. What Jonghyun and Minho do in their off-air time really isn’t any of his concern; plus, he’d grown fond of Kibum’s investigations being thwarted. 

#hello fellow youths its been a while #this is just...........a thing #my idea was a bit different but this is how it turned out and ive missed writing so here it is #jongho #1 shot 2 shot just for 1

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #192

“i’d love to give you wings, but babe, you’ve got to grow them.”

Where have you lived throughout your life? The same general area in North Carolina. Do you find your job rewarding? N/A What kind of cake did you have for your last birthday? I'm sure it was red velvet. To you, which is better: English muffins or bagels? I enjoy both, but bagels. Do you paint your nails? No. What’s the last website you signed up for? Good question... maybe a feral dog RP forum I was considering making a character on? Do you check your email everyday? I'm getting into the habit. Have you created any pages on Facebook? Yeah. Is there a subject that you absolutely suck at? Social studies/history, math. What’s your favorite song by Dave Matthews Band? I have no idea who that is. Are there people you have absolutely nothing in common with, but still enjoy talking to? Maybe? Have you ever wandered around drunk with your friend? No. Are you good at holding back your laughter if needed? Nooo, not at all. Have you ever been so unfortunate to suffer from a hangover? No. Have you ever had a panic attack? Plenty. Are you deathly allergic to anything? No. Have you ever had a mouse in your house? Yeah. In our old one, anyway. Do you know anyone who DOESN’T have an ex? Not personally, I think. Is anyone you know really religious? Welcome to the South. Yes. Are your eyebrows naturally thick? I'd say they're average. Has speaking in front of people ever made you sick? No. I haven't spoken in front of an actual audience since my senior project, though. It was hard, but I think I did well. What was the last movie that made you teary-eyed? I'm not sure. Moana may have gotten me a bit teary? But if no, Coco absolutely did. Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other? I think "hate" is a strong word for it. Has a laptop ever burned your legs? Yes. I legitimately had dark spots on my right leg for a long while. Do you know anyone who has a scar through their eyebrow? Juan. Who was the last person to flip you off? Idk, but I'm sure it was playfully. Anyone’s birthday coming up soon? Miiiine! And my friend Alyssa's. Would you ever wear fake eyelashes? Sure, in rare circumstances. Are you good at following directions? No. I have zer-O sense of direction. Do you have someone that you can just act a fool with and not care? Sara. From where you’re sitting, can you touch a wall? Yeah, behind me. When at a restaurant, do you put your napkin on your lap? Not unless I'm with my grandmother. She's extremely "proper" about things. Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners? Electric. Are your biceps at all noticeable? No. Have you ever seen a walrus? Are there any at SeaWorld? Otherwise, no. When it comes to dropping food, do you believe in the 10 second rule? HELL NO. I'm a germaphobe with that stuff. If given the opportunity, would you ride on a camel? Sure? Do you believe that cellphones actually do cause cancer? I don't recall the science behind this theory, so idk. When people you know cry, does it make you feel like crying too? Oh yes, especially if it's someone I'm very close to. Particularly, I can't handle Mom, my sisters, or Sara crying. I've never seen Dad cry, but if he ever did, I know I would bawl. Do you tend to jump to conclusions? Was this written as a direct @me??????? Are you good at remembering your friends’ birthdays? NOPE. I only remember... Sara's, Connie's, Caleb's (just because it's on Halloween), Shaylee's, and that's literally it out of friends/acquaintances. Is there something you need to do, that you’re trying to avoid doing? Actually use WiiFit. I'm doing periodic exercises throughout the day, but I need to dedicate more and be able to see my center of balance. Ever pop someone else’s pimple? NONONONONO IT'S SO GROSS TO ME How long does it take you to fall asleep? No less than 15 minutes, I think usually more. Do you crack your neck often? I can't. Did you have a weird dream last night? OH MY GOD YES. I was awkwardly with one of my acquaintances at his house somehow????? and we both seemed very uncomfortable??????? and I think I was high or some shit???????????????? I don't even know this person well enough to like-like him?????????????? Who do you sometimes compare yourself to? My sisters and successful friends. Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things? Doing the right things. But I aim for both. In what way are you your own worst enemy? I criticize. The. Hell out of everything I do. What activities make you lose track of time? Video games. When you help someone do you ever think, “What’s in it for me?” Full offense, you're an absolute dick if you do that. Who do you tell your secrets to? Nobody really unless there's reason to, and only ever Sara, Mom, or my therapist. Who do you live with? Mom and the pets. When did/will you graduate? '14 for high school. Idk when I will for college, gotta get there first... When are you moving next? Probably when Sara and I are ready for our own place. When is the last time you took a vitamin? I have to twice a week now, so Thursday, because I have an incredible vitamin D deficiency, and that's probably what's causing my knee problems. Why are you stressed? The everlasting weight loss struggle. Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? No. Where do you keep your birth certificate? It's in a safe. How many books are in your room? Uhhh like three? Then one coloring book. Have you ever been IN a wedding? I was the immensely triggered and ugly bridesmaid at my older sister's. Weddings were a very sensitive thing to me at the time, so while I was so happy for Ashley, I had a very difficult time and cried numerous times. What was the last thing you laughed out loud at? I think during a Mark video? Do you have a nickname? Why? "Britt" for obvious reasons, and Mom's called me "Twinkie" since I was a baby. She gave all her children sweets-based nicknames. Fuck out my face if you think that ain't the cutest damn thing. Have you ever had a bad concert experience? No. When was the last time someone told you that you were beautiful/good-looking? Do people often tell you this? I think the last time was when Sara said I looked really pretty with eyeliner on and I just eeeeeeeeeek. I'm not often told it. Are you missing someone of the opposite sex atm? Not romantically. I'd like to see Girt as a bud; I'm gonna invite him to my birthday dinner to hang out. Hopefully he doesn't have work. Want someone back in your life? Yes. Are you currently sad about anything? Weight. Unbelievable difficulty getting my fucking transcript and inability to find my ACT score so I can go back to school. Are you wearing anything shiny? My lip ring has gems on it, and they shine a bit in the right light. How important is a sense of humor in a significant other? I need it. I don't think I could really enjoy a constantly serious person as a partner. How many followers do you have on Twitter? Idk, don't care to check. I only ever use it to be able to like Mark's shit lmao. Do you sleep with the door open or closed? Open so Roman can go in and out. Have you ever been to the beach? Multiple times. Can you handle blood? Doesn't bother me a bit. Do you pay your bills or do your parents? My parents. I have no source of income to. What’s your best friend’s middle name? Jane. Has any place hired you underage for a job? No. Have you ever barely passed a grade/year in school? In college courses when my mental state was at its worst. Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? No. Have you ever tried to sell something overpriced to someone? No, I don't think so. Do you plan to become very wealthy some day? "Very" is unlikely, but I am dead serious about being at least perfectly financially stable one day. I refuse to live how I have my whole life so far, wondering if rent will be paid each month 'n things like that. Do you remember your first time going to the movies? No. Does eating breakfast make you sick? No. Are you dying to say something to someone right this minute? No. Well, not dying to, but after this whole revelation I had, I really want to apologize to Jason. I wasn't without evil in how I responded to and treated him after the breakup. Book series you enjoyed reading recently? I haven't read a series in years. Do you enjoy lying in the grass during the summer, and just existing? Nooo. Summer sucks and lying in grass is super uncomfortable. Do you have a passport? If so, how many stamps do you have in it? No. Are there any keys on your keyboard that have letters fading away? Not fading, but literally gone from the keyboard because this one is horrible, even after being "fixed" or replaced (idr). No joke, 21 are gone. Sooo I have to smash those buttons for the sensor or whatever to understand I'm pressing them, to the point my fingers, especially right pointer, are mildly callused. Do any of your close friends have children? No close ones, but one I'm hoping to reconnect more with it expecting. What do you plan on having for dinner? Probably a sandwich and nutrition shake to get enough calories to take my medicine and get the intended effect. Do you like Chinese food, or do you find it disgusting? The only things I enjoy now are fried rice and eggrolls, but I used to like sweet and sour chicken and bird on a stick or whatever its proper name is. Have the police ever come knocking on your door looking for someone? Once. Know anybody who works in a tattoo parlor? We're not like, "real" friends, but I know a good number of and get along great with the employees at the parlor I'm a regular customer at. I want to work there so badly. Small, environment I feel at home at, great people. Have you ever played flashlight tag? Don't even know what that is. Could you call yourself a movie buff? Not at all. Have you ever had a piercing get infected? A second hole in one of my earlobes, and the first time I got my tongue done, there was an abscess inside that indicated one was likely to form. Thank God that the rollercoaster of The Tongue Piercing Woes has ended. Do you check your fire alarms when you’re supposed to? Mom does occasionally. Are you a shorts wearing kind of person? NOOOOO MY LEGS ARE NOT OKAY. Plus I chafe. Is your grandparents’ house obsessively tidy? Ohhhh I'm sure. I haven't been to her house since I was a kid, but I remember it being like, pristine. Her rooms at her son's is neat as hell too. About how much can you bench press? I have no clue. Have you ever had your phone die on you in the middle of a conversation? Yeah. Is anybody in your family a carpenter? Not to my knowledge. Are you avoiding someone? No. Do you call your boyfriend “Monkey”? I have a gf, and I have never in the least understood how that's a term of endearment. What’s your favorite primary color? Red. What were you for Halloween? Nothing, ugh. I haaave to dress up this year. Do you have any clothes from Walmart? Yeah. When did you get a Facebook? I have no clue. What color are your eyes? Grayish-greenish blue. What motivates you? How far I've already come, wanting a better future than I have now, encouragement from friends, family, my therapist, and psychiatrist, the drive to thoroughly enjoy my one mortal existence. Can you walk in heels? Not well. When was the last time someone asked you your age? Ummm, last time I got something done at the parlor, I think? Do you keep a journal? No. Have you ever tried a weird flavor of vodka? No. Do you wear a ring on your finger? One, my friendship ring with Sara. What are you doing? This, listening to Asking Alexandria's "Closer" NIN cover (no shame), and waiting for Girt to reply on Facebook. What’s the last kind of soup you ate? A bit of vegetable. Do you currently have a sunburn? No. Who did you last text? Mom. Who’d you last call? About what? My old college to find out why I couldn't get my fucking transcript after weeks upon weeks of being directed to different people about it. I regret going there immensely. Complete waste of time and money. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I'm really frustrated at myself. Do you drink water or soda more often? I'm actually not sure... Do you straighten your hair? No. When did you last talk to your brother or sister? One, not since Christmas, and the younger, a few days ago. All my half-siblings have been forever, and one I've never spoken to. What is your least favorite vegetable? Probably asparagus. Or beans. Outside of family, name 3 people that make you smile/laugh often. Sara, Mark, Shane Dawson. In school, what subjects did you achieve your highest grades in? English or art, idr. Was there a subject that you enjoyed, but weren’t too good at? No. When was the last time something didn’t go to plan? What happened? Being into what's called "vulture culture" now (at least to a certain degree), I searched for quite a while for the bones of the very first opossum I photographed (I have a photography "series" focused on exposing the horror of roadkill to hopefully influence people to be more careful and vigilant), but despite thorough searching, I couldn't find it. Gruesome, but Mom speculated the remains were destroyed by whoever mows the grass there. Do you have any children? If not, at what age do you think you’ll feel ready to be a parent? No, and never. When was the last time you bought a new item of clothing? Describe it. Uhhh. I seriously have no clue. Maybe some underwear months ago. Was your last Facebook friend request from a male or female? Idk who the last person was. Do you have an item of clothing that makes you feel especially beautiful? Describe it. No. Think of the last person that betrayed you. If they said they were sorry, would you forgive them? I can literally almost guarantee Colleen shared our whole goddamn conversation and shit on Facebook after our last talk, as she did the first time too. Too many times our business became everyone's. I'd forgive her, but I refuse to ever be friends again. Nastiest thing you've ever done? I hate talking about this, but okay. When I was deep into my suicidal depression phase, I had a hard time brushing my teeth as needed. Like... I wouldn't for days. I avoided brushing my hair as long as I could too. Anyone who doesn't believe in how deeply depression is capable of chaining you down and making vital things almost impossible, go get fucking educated. Have you ever been in a lighthouse? No. What color is your shower? White. Where do you order your pizza from? Ideally Domino's, but sometimes Little Caesar's. When is the last time you had a serious talk with someone? Yesterday. Do you find that you have a certain meal you eat every time you go to certain restaurants? Oh yes. I rarely try something new. What color is your bike? N/A What word can you not stand to hear people say? The “n” word. What room of your house are you in? My bedroom. What is the temperature in your city right now? Apparently 38 F. When did you last use a post-it-note? No idea. Would you ever want to own your own restaurant? No. Do you have a fan in your bedroom? I have three lmao. My room is unbearable in the summer. Who is the last person that you took a picture with? Sara. When is the last time you were stuck in a fairly long traffic jam? A couple months or so back when there was an accident. Do you have certain friends that you hug every time you see them? All my friends. When was your most recent trip to an aquarium? 2016 visit to the beach. We went to the aquarium there and it absolutely sucked. What do you like in your salads and what dressing do you prefer? Just lettuce (but I can also handle cucumbers) and the Olive Garden dressing. If it has one, do you ever use the notepad function in your phone? Occasionally. Rn I have tattoo ideas written in it. Surprised? How good would you say your memory is? Absolutely horrible, lately worse than ever. I worry about it quite a bit. About how many times during the night do you wake up from your sleep? Once or twice. Are there any air fresheners in your house? What kinds? Not currently on or anything. What’s one thing you’re glad you’ve done recently? Improved on picking up the phone when I don't know the number. Have you ever done something sexual that you regret? Well, I've talked about flirting with my friend's bf as a pre-teen, and it wasn't always innocent, if you count that as "sexual." I regret the hell out of it. Do you like to sit in the sun and tan when it’s hot out? NO. Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you? Yes, Tyler. I wasn't like, terrified, but preeeetty uncomfortable. Can you drive, and if you can, do you like it? I can, but I'm not that great, and I absolutely hate it. Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? Yes. Do you like french fries? Hell yeah. Have you ever eaten so much you puked? No. Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance? People whose opinions I care about. Would you rather go to Greece or France? Probably Greece.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #lyrics: ''get up'' by mother mother

[convenientalias]

(Why am I doing this to myself?) 38, Daraoulga

Yay angsty Daraoulga!

I posted this fic on AO3 here  but I think it’s short enough to post in its entirety, so let’s go.

Hamid’s been going with the young Vicomte for more than two months when Erik decides he has a problem with it. Why it takes him that long to notice, Hamid doesn’t know. He just knows when Erik’s ire does fall upon him, because it’s not exactly subtle. It’s Erik waylaying him in a hallway and dragging him off into the tunnels for “a talk.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me coming down here anymore.”

Erik doesn’t even bother giving him a look.

“You’re inconsistent.” Hamid folds his arms and leans against a wall. There’s still a fucking noose around his neck—Erik wasn’t exactly gentle about getting him down here—but for some reason he feels like if he acknowledges the rope’s existence he’ll legitimize it, so he’s not removing it. He also isn’t sure what will set Erik off. Heck, he isn’t sure what’s set Erik off enough to attack him tonight to begin with.

“I am giving you a warning,” Erik says after a moment.

“You could have warned me before—”

“Don’t pretend to be offended, daroga. If you weren’t used to the way I work, you would long ago be dead.”

And you’d be dead too, if I didn’t care enough to save your sorry ass, Hamid doesn’t say. “Actually I am…”

“I am warning you to stay away from the Vicomte de Chagny,” Erik says.

Hamid blinks.

“I know you two have been getting close,” Erik continues. “Sharing boxes in the opera, stealing kisses when no one is looking…really it’s childish but I suppose you enjoy yourself as you wish. However, it is no longer wise. You may find yourself another lover.”

“Oh—” Hamid’s temper flares. “—may I?”

Erik now does give him a look, short and contemptuous.

“You can’t be jealous. You’ve never given the vicomte a second look, don’t pretend you have, and we’re… Anyhow it’s a bit late to try and intervene, isn’t it? I’ve been courting the vicomte for…”

“Courting?” Erik snorts. “Oh, come on… And I didn’t think I’d have to intervene, because I thought you would have ended it long ago. We know you aren’t exactly one for monogamy.”

“I am perfectly capable of it.”

“Well, I know that now. But be monogamous with someone else. The Vicomte de Chagny is not a wise choice, and from now on you are to stay far away. Do you understand?”

“I don’t take orders from you, Erik.”

“I am not ordering you to do anything,” Erik says. “I am just warning you. You’re the one who prefers me not to commit murder.” He turns away. “Do as you wish.”

Hamid breaks his date with Raoul that night.

It’s not, he tells himself, that he’s afraid of Erik or what Erik says. But his fight with Erik has left him with a couple scratches, and his coat is a mess. He’s not in a fit state to sit through an opera with Raoul, surrounded by the denizens of high society. Raoul can do without him for a night. He goes home to his apartment where Darius patches up the scratches and he sends the coat off to a tailor for repairs. He sends Raoul a note of apology.

He doesn’t mention the encounter with Erik. It’s not…He doesn’t ever mention Erik to Raoul, Raoul doesn’t even know that they talk to each other. Erik sees his interactions with Hamid as privileged, private, and Hamid has always treated them as such. Even if this one is a bit beyond the pale, it’s still…

It feels wrong to tell Raoul about it, so he doesn’t.

But that doesn’t mean he’s listening to Erik. It doesn’t. He’s not afraid of Erik. He even goes and meets Raoul two days later, at the park. They go for a walk, and they talk, and they kiss behind trees, and it’s all very fun. They chat about opera gossip and the one to bring the opera ghost up is Raoul.

“They say he knocked over a set piece yesterday. The ballerinas were in hysterics. Did you hear about that?”

“I don’t hear about absolutely everything, Raoul.”

“Sorry. You seemed very omniscient when I first met you. Actually it makes me feel a bit smug when I can tell you things,” Raoul says. “But in any case, Christine says it may well have been the opera ghost. She seems a little nervous lately.” He sighs. “She’s so superstitious.”

Raoul has all the carelessness of a boy who’s old enough to know that nothing lurks beneath his bed but not yet old enough to be careful of dark alleys. Usually Hamid finds that certainty endearing, but today he finds it more than a little troubling.

“Hamid? Is something wrong?”

“The opera ghost is more than a superstition,” Hamid says. “You really should be careful in the opera house, Raoul.”

“You too, Hamid? Well, I never…”

Hamid doesn’t mean to let Erik’s warnings, or his threats, rather, sway him. He’s not afraid. Erik has hurt him before, and he can never hurt him too badly, not with their history. But. But Erik sometimes does hurt other people, people who get too close.

“Sometimes” might be an understatement.

Maybe, Hamid thinks, it’s better if he does back off. Just a little. Just for now. Just until he figures out what’s going on with Erik and fixes it, and then he and Raoul can go back to normal, and everything will be fine. But. Maybe, just for a little.

He doesn’t go to the opera that weekend for their usual date. And the next week, when Raoul sends him invitations first to accompany him to a dinner party and then just for a walk along the Seine, he declines, saying he’s ill.

It’s the same excuse as last week, but it’s a classic, and it’s polite. And Raoul isn’t too pushy. He’ll take the hint.

He can’t figure out what is eating Erik just by hearsay, so he goes to the opera house, into the tunnels. He can’t find Erik lurking, though, and he’s too cautious of the lake to swim out to Erik’s house anymore. And when he leaves the tunnels and makes his exit from the opera house, he runs straight into Raoul.

They always used to run into each other by accident here, back before they really knew each other. Serendipity, Hamid would call it. Today, though, it is genuine bad luck.

“Hamid! Then you’re better,” Raoul says. He pulls Hamid into a hug, tighter than usual. He smells of something flowery, maybe lavender—a scent that Hamid has missed, even though it’s only been a week. “I’m so glad—my friend,” he adds quickly. Philippe is walking with them and is already giving them a Look. “We’re here for the night show. You might join us in our box, if you like…”

Usually Hamid and Raoul share Hamid’s box, but usually Raoul doesn’t have a brother in tow, because usually they arrange these things ahead of time, because usually Hamid isn’t actively avoiding Raoul and is, instead, trying to spend time with him. The lavender scent is tempting.

Philippe says, “We’d be pleased,” and Hamid is caught.

Of course he can’t pay any attention to the show itself. Probably the singing is excellent. But he’s thinking about Raoul’s eyes on him, and how his expression alternates: Sometimes intent on the action onstage, sometimes undeniably pleased, sometimes a little bit nervous. And when he meets Hamid’s eyes, he smiles, but a little stiffly, and Hamid is worried.

Philippe isn’t watching, so he puts a hand on Raoul’s leg to calm him down. Raoul stiffens in a whole new way and Hamid can’t help but tease him a little bit, squeezing his thigh and inching his hand up just a little further. Not too much, of course, they aren’t alone. And then it’s intermission.

Hamid wants to take Raoul off to a private corner and show him how much he’s been missed. But they’re at the opera house, Erik’s opera house, and he’s risked enough already. So he tells Philippe and Raoul both, “It’s been lovely, but I really must be going.”

“The show is only an hour longer,” Raoul protests.

“Urgent business,” Hamid says. “I had forgotten. Well, I’m sure I will see you two again.” He leaves without looking back. The person he has to see is Erik, and Erik is avoiding him just as he’s avoiding Raoul, and it’s driving him round the bend.

Raoul sends him a letter, a proper letter. Longer than the notes. “I missed you,” it says. And, “What was the urgent business?” And, “Tell me you’re feeling better. You still seemed off last time, a little tense. Maybe that’s just because Philippe was there—I know it made me tense, him sitting there while you were right next to me. You make me feel all kinds of things Philippe shouldn’t know about, and when you touched my leg like that, you knew exactly what you were doing to me. But even if you’d gone further…”

And, of course, just like in the notes, “When can I see you again?”

Hamid doesn’t bother to send an answer this time. He doesn’t have an answer. Raoul will just have to wait.

But Raoul is not a very patient person. And when two weeks pass with no contact, he shows up on Hamid’s doorstep and demands to be let in.

“No, I don’t want tea,” Raoul says brusquely. “I want to talk.”

Hamid sits. Raoul stands, defiantly, but fuck, he’s not going to stand for this conversation. Just the sight of Raoul’s face makes him feel exhausted. “Yes, dear?”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Two weeks. We met at…”

“We both know you didn’t mean to meet me there, and it wasn’t…look, I just…”

“Calm down, Raoul,” Hamid says. “I’ve been busy. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your letters, but I didn’t know when I’d be free. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what?”

Hamid doesn’t want to lie to him. “Oh, boring things. You wouldn’t want to know all the details.”

Raoul says, “Hamid. Look me in the eyes.”

Hamid does so. “Yes?”

Raoul is trembling. “Just…tell me the truth.”

“What truth?”

Raoul shrugs, a brief spasm. “I don’t know! That you’ve had enough. That I don’t… That I’m not good enough for you anymore, that you aren’t happy. Just… just tell me, all right? I know you’re kind but I promise you it won’t hurt more than this.”

He still smells like lavender. It’s a smell Hamid wishes would linger in his flat, or on his clothing. He sighs.

Raoul storms closer. “Just tell me,” he says, and his face crumples into something ugly and he collapses on his knees, pushing his head onto Hamid’s lap. Hamid strokes his hair because he isn’t sure what else to do.

“I can’t tell you that,” he says. “It wouldn’t be true. You make me…”

And then he’s crying too.

Old fool, he thinks savagely. It was the perfect chance to cut things off with Raoul and keep him safe from Erik, and maybe that would be wise. But he can’t do it. Even if they’ll both be hurt worse later on, he can’t.

“You make me happy,” he sobs. Some part of him is perfectly aware of how ridiculous he sounds, and is detached enough to feel embarrassment. But his lips press against Raoul’s forehead on autopilot, and he pulls himself together enough to lever Raoul up from the floor and kiss his lips instead.

He hasn’t had enough. Not yet. Not yet.

#daraoulga #daroga/raoul #raoul de chagny #the daroga #i wrote a thing #thanks for the ask!

[vacationcalendar]

7/19/21

Alright bitch, welcome back. Holy shit I make sitting down to blog look fucking impossible don’t I. Alright alright, let’s keep it pg-13 if we can..

I set an alarm for 10am to go off every day that just says BLOG TIME. I’d preferably like to get banging out words onto the page a little bit BEFORE that. It’s a powerful “awakening” activity in my experience, and I should be using that to my advantage. I also want to take as much time as I can on this project, especially if it’s psuedo-replacing a 40hr/week job. The earlier I get started the less I have to worry about what time it is when I’m done. My procrastination on day 2 has cost me the entirety of a sunny day. Well, it’s 2:30 now; so I imagine by the time I wrap this up I’ll have missed peek sun time. But who’s to say?

I’m starting to get that sense of dread again. That feeling I sometimes get when I can see hard plans lining my calendar far too densely populated for my liking. Big dentist appointment tomorrow. Day after that is a wash as far as I’m concerned. Even if my mouth miraculously heals in time to actually enjoy my Wednesday, I can already guarantee the psychic wounds of enduring an hours long, 600$-ish sit under the drill will take at least a couple extended sets of the fitful rest to recover from. Then I leave on Thursday to begin a full weeklong family vacation. And in that week I’ll have to figure out how to keep fucking blogging, or this thing is gonna stall out on the train tracks 100%. Do I have to explain that to you? I mean you get it; you know I’m right about that. I’m a naturally cowardly, sinful guy. I have to build up inertia on any remotely dutiful or healthy task, or I simply cannot keep it up...

So the next 3 days are all going to test my ability to actually sit here and write something. I’m really not going to want to, even though I want for literally nothing else right now. The only thing I want to do more than this creative process is to simply not exist at all. And it’s all compounded by these blasted plans. Fuck these plans. These are the dastardly plans that just cannot get canceled. They’re too high impact, and “good”(?). So then the fact that these blogs are also a “plan” just piles it up too high for me seemingly. It is quite clearly, objectively, not too much to handle. But I cannot help the fact that I feel claustrophobic. I just do. The strategy can’t be to NOT feel that way, it can’t be preventative. It has to deal with the feeling somehow. Hmmm... it’s tricky. To me, in this moment, as I’m typing this, it feels tricky. I honestly think that by the time I’m finished typing here, it WON’T feel so tricky. I’m certainly hoping that’s the case. 

Ok new track: Part of why I procrastinated so long today was pretty simple. I was hungover. I was hungover and I didn’t know what to talk about. Instead of going to be thinking about my usual faire, I was just thinking I feel like shit; I hope I don’t throw up. So I woke up late, slow, and with zero thoughts bouncing around my head. So I just watched LCS footage and read twitter, and by the time I got up and made coffee (mandatory for the blog. Blogging without coffee sounds insane. What would you ponderously sip between sentences? Water? How would that even work?) and sat down to write, I had squeezed out another full hour of procrastination. Now I won’t be hungover again for a while. This was a special occasion of sorts. Another one of my dreaded “plans.” Fuck’s sake. It was a 2nd meet up of Olivia’s peeps for drinks. It was penciled in after the first hang so that we could include everybody that didn’t make it the first time. Perfectly reasonable idea. And the first time sitting and drinking was so much fun that I sort of figured I was obligated to, pay my dues I suppose, for this second meet-up that sounded significantly less fun. But it was perfectly enjoyable. It had the energy of a hangout that could happen every single week like a sitcom. Very easy, probably more drinking than one could maintain if it were a weekly occurrence, but not too much. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Just record keeping, I guess?

Anyways, this morning was not the le morning that I can usually anticipate. So circumstances withstanding PLUS the procrastination ended up pushing the writing well past 3pm. These next 3 days (and the next 8 days after that, holy shit) are also going to mesh quite poorly with this sloppy, laissez-faire approach to getting this done. So I’m worried about it. Look, I want to do this, but I absolutely don’t want to have to worry about it. Is that asking too much? And obviously I can do this without worrying about it, in theory.  But I do not believe in myself, ok? I don’t. I’m telling you that right now. I want to cancel everything and just do this when I fucking get around to it. And, well; here’s the kicker. I didn’t mention this yet, and I probably should have. Once I get back from this GD vacation, my hiatus between jobs will officially be past a full month. I can hear the timer ticking in my head. I am in charge of how much sand I put in this particular hourglass. My mother will fully disagree with me there. I mean, I’m about to spend 8 days with someone who ask me every single day “so have you gotten your new job yet?”

You’re thinking, ‘Max, it’s not just impractical to ask a question with such a clear answer more than once without waiting for any circumstances to change, it flat out does not make any sense at all!’ I agree. We are on the exact same page guy. But you are missing the fact that “it doesn’t hurt to think about it. And maybe you can look online on your phone while you’re here trying to enjoy a vacation.”

Parents are weird. This feeling I’m describing is so relatable to some people. And other people just can’t parse it at all. There are a tiny handful of people in your life that will exist in totality literally forever. I mean one of you will die first, but for that person who died, the other people existed THE ENTIRE TIME. Minus like pre-birth and stuff, but that’s semantics. They are inevitable. They can travel all over the spectrum of human emotion vis-a-vi your relationship, but 99.9% of the grades will result in your staying completely still in your relationship to them. He sucks, but he’s my dad. He’s my dad, he’s fine. He’s my dad, I love him My dad’s the best! These father/son relationships all virtually fill up the exact same liminal space as far as I can tell. The way far ends of the bell curve are where it ever seems to yield different results. My dad is my best friend! One day I will kill my father, and I will finally be free of him. Let’s set those aside for this cross-section (vocab?). Every other relationship ship under the bell curve carries this seeming inevitability to it. These relationships seems like they get “finished” in a way. We know the personality of our parents so completely (and they have stopped changing/growing as people at a certain point), that we don’t actually have to go to them to learn about them. You don’t have to ask them questions or inquire about their opinions, because you can successfully deduce the answer using simple math. But THEN, you have to talk to them still, because they are close to you and want to learn about YOU, because you are still an incomplete puzzle. I don’t know, I just think the part of the parent/child dynamic where you have to share info with a parent even though the conversation has already been “solved;” the formality of it. The chore of it. That’s what it is. It’s chores. We know how chores are going to go, but until you actually do them, there’s this disorder. But instead of a dishwasher it’s a human being, that doesn’t “get” CRT. And if I can’t fucking convince my mother that my 28,000$ in savings will be able to tide me over for more than a week while I actually take a legitimate run at feeling fulfilled in my LIFE, convincing her to dismantle the foundation of our nation’s socio-economic structures in order to save our species from annihilation seems, I don’t know, tough.

Ok, I think I’m done. That took about an hour. I don’t think that’s bad at all. Am I still scared about tomorrow’s blog and therefore the rest of my life as I know it? Yes. Of course.

But at least you’ll be there with me when I get there. Take care bud, eat a good dinner tonight.

Love you

[mollyjames]

With Apologies To...

In which Blake and Yang are both required to be mature adults and talk about their feelings. Neither are very good at it. 4000+ words

I wrote this fic before the last two episodes of volume 5 came out, so there are a lot of details that don’t quite line up. That being said, by happy coincidence, that makes this fic spoiler free! All it contains is pure speculation on Blake’s eventual return.

Enjoy!

“First, I want to start by saying I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right, and I stand by that. But the way I went about it was all wrong. I should have told you what I was doing; my plans, where I was going… anything really. I guess I didn’t know how to say goodbye so I just… didn’t. I left and didn’t say a word. You have every right to be angry at me. I understand if you won’t forgive me. But I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

Blake stood frozen in the hallway, arms tensed on either side in anticipation. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her forehead. She was staring straight at the ground, boring a hole through the wood, unable to make eye contact. Blake was never good at making eye contact.

“Ummm… Blake?”

Blake’s eyes shot up. “Yes?”

Ruby was looking up at her. She was sitting on the couch next to Oscar, her scythe unsheathed and resting in her lap. It’s gearbox was open and being tinkered with.

“I forgive you,” said Ruby.

Cool relief washed over Blake. “Thank you, I- thank you so much!”

Ruby shrugged. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. You’re part of my team Blake.”

“Right,” Blake bit her lip. “Part of your team…” Even still?

“Have you talked to Yang yet?”

“Not yet. I was going to apologize to her next.”

“See that you do,” Ruby said. Silver eyes stared up at Blake. Blake dropped her gaze and retreated up the stairs.

“Ruby?” Oscar said.

“Oscar?” Ruby replied, returning to her calibrations.

“Who was that?”

Ruby sighed deeply. “It’s… a long story…”

-

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Blake knocked on the door. Best to just dive straight in, and not think about it.

Weiss answered.

“First, I want to start by saying I’m sorry-”

“Uhp uhp uhp!” Weiss interrupted. She leaned back across the doorway, arms folded, eyes glaring. Blake looked down at the floor. Why was everyone so insistent on staring at her?

“Sorry’s not good enough,” Weiss continued. “You broke a promise.”

“...what?”

“You numbskull,” Weiss chided. “Don’t you remember anything? You promised next time something this big came up, you’d come to your teammates first. And did you? No. You went off galavanting who knows where without so much as a howdy-doo.”

“Excuse me?” Blake’s ears bristled.

“I really thought after last time-”

“Last time there was still a school!” Blake snapped. “Last time my ex-boyfriend didn’t threaten to destroy everyone I loved just to get to me!”

“I’m not saying you didn’t have perfectly legitimate reasons,” Weiss conceded. “But you still should have come to your team first.”

“What team!? You were gone too!”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Weiss retorted, face flushing. She looked away. “At least… it didn’t feel like I did…”

The two stood in awkward silence, neither wanting the conversation to continue. Blake let out a small cough.

“...didn’t you have some sort of... planned apology for me?” Weiss finally mumbled.

“Right…” Blake said. “Umm… I guess I went about this all wrong. I should have told you… anything really.”

“It’s not like I managed much better,” Weiss said.

Blake looked up at Weiss, and the two exchanged a small smile.

“So… do you forgive me?”

“Only if you forgive me,” Weiss replied.

Blake nodded. “Of course I do!

Weiss chuckled daintily.

“So…” said Blake, “...hugs?”

“Pass.”

“Thank god.” Blake breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to leave.

“Have you talked to Yang yet?” Weiss called.

“I was just about to.”

“You really hurt her you know,” Weiss said quietly.

Blake’s ear twitched. “I- I know.”

And with that, Weiss closed the door.

-

Blake stood before the door that marked the entrance to Yang’s room. Even though they were materially identical, this door somehow seemed a lot thicker than Weiss’ had. Blake tapped her foot impatiently.

Come on numbskull she thought. Just knock. What are you afraid of? That you won’t be forgiven? That she hates your guts now? That she never wants to see you again? So what? You still need to do this. She deserves an explanation. So just raise. Your. Hand. And. Knock.

Blake stood there for another five minutes.

You know who I haven’t apologized to yet? Jaune. I bet Jaune was really hurt when I left. I should go talk to him. Just in case.

-

“Blake?” Sun called. “Blake?! Dinner’s almost ready! You should really come down!” Sun made it to the top of the stairs and turned down the hall. There he found Blake, sitting toward the end of the corridor, opposite Yang’s door. She appeared to be lost in thought.

“Good, there you are!” Sun said, making his way over to her. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I heard you,” Blake said. She didn’t move.

Sun paused. “Umm… want me to get Yang? Everyone’s been waiting for her too. I’ll just-” He made a move toward the door.

“NO!” Blake snapped.

“O-okay,” Sun stammered. “I guess I won’t tell her food’s waiting.”

Blake sighed and buried her head in her arms. Sun sat himself down next to her.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” Blake growled.

“I heard some of what was going on,” Sun said. “Apparently you spent the whole day apologizing to everyone?” “Not everyone…”

“Let’s see,” Sun began to count on his fingers. “Ruby, Weiss, Jaune, Nora, Ren, Crow, and then that Oscar kid like twice.”

“The first time was for Ozpin,” Blake explained. “The second time was for confusing Oscar.”

“But not Yang?”

“No,” Blake blushed. “Not Yang.” Sun could be infuriatingly insightful at times.

“Are you afraid she’s gonna punch you?”

“What? No!” Blake shot Sun a glance. “Well, maybe a little…”

Sun shrugged. “I mean, I’d be.”

“It’s just,” Blake sighed. “I really hurt her, you know? I mean like really hurt her. Adam cut her arm off because of me. How do you even start to apologize for that?”

“You think she really blames you for that?” Sun asked.

“I mean yeah of course!” scoffed Blake. “Who wouldn’t?”

“I’m pretty sure Yang blames Adam for cutting her arm off. Not you,” Sun smirked.

Blake opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. Sun’s reasonable statement had somehow cut through all of the perfectly good paranoid delusions she’d been building for the past few hours. It irritated her.

“Listen,” Sun said, apparently done waiting for Blake to invent an argument. “You don’t have to apologize now. How about we grab dinner and then work it out together once our bellies are stuffed?”

Blake smiled and surrendered. “Fiiine,” she said. “I guess that’s-”

The door burst open.

“Yang!” Sun jumped a solid five feet off the ground. “I-I-I was just coming to get you!” he stammered.

Blake starred up at the hot-headed blonde, transfixed with horror. Yang’s face was contorted with rage, her eyes ablaze, fists clenched. And she was staring directly. At. Her.

Blake tried to speak. Her mouth opened and shut like a goldfish, but the words she’d spent all afternoon practicing failed to arrive. All she managed as a croaking “I want”.

“So.” Yang said. “You can’t even apologize without avoiding me.”

Sun raced forward, putting himself between Yang and Blake. “I-I-I’m sure Blake was just…”

“Just what? Planning to apologize tomorrow? Or next week perhaps? When should I pencil you in? I have a very busy schedule you know.” Yang shoved Sun aside like he was made of paper, eliciting a small yelp. Yang marched toward Blake, her gaze boring a hole through her skull. Blake’s eyes darted back and forth, instinctively searching for some means of escape. Why did everyone insist on staring at her?

Blake took a deep breath and steadied herself. It was now or never.

“First, I wanted to start by saying I’m sorry.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Yang snarled. “Two can play at this game.”

Yang brought her hands up to her ears and covered them.

“Umm…” Blake paused. “Yang? What are you doing?”

“LALALALALAAAAAA! Hmmm? I’m sorry, what’s that? Can’t hear ya,” Yang said mockingly.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Are you serious right now?”

Yang gave Blake a wide, shit-eating grin, then turned down the hall to leave.

“Yang this is really immature-” Blake stopped. Her eyes widened. In the heat of the moment she hadn’t noticed, but now it was impossible to miss. Yang’s right ear was being covered by a yellow painted metal hand.

“Yang!” Blake said, momentarily forgetting herself in her excitement. “Your arm!”

“LALALAAA! Still can’t hear you!” Yang called back. “I’m avoiding you! Get it?! Like how you avoided me?! See how you like it!” With that, Yang disappeared down the stairs.

Blake’s ears twitched.

“Blake?” Sun came up behind her, nursing the bruise forming on his right shoulder.

“We are not letting her get away with this,” Blake growled.

“Oh no…”

“Come on,” Blake beckoned, and the two raced for the dining hall.

-

“So, you’re a Faunus?”

Half of the teams JNPR and RWBY were sitting at the dining table, along with Oscar, Ilia, and Blake’s parents. As usual, Jaune felt the unfortunate need to fill the silence.

“...yes…” said Ilia, as evenly as she could manage.

“But you don’t look like a Faunus…”

“JAUNE!” Nora snapped. Jaune flinched. She glared at him. “Leader or no, I will smack you into the stratosphere.”

“Whaat? It’s a perfectly legitimate line of inquiry!” Jaune whined.

“STRA-TO-SPHERE,” Nora repeated. She turned and smiled politely at Ilia. “I’m so sorry about him. He’s an idiot.”

“O-oh,” Ilia stammered. “It’s fine. Really. Thank you.”

A few blessed moments of silence followed.

“Oh cool!” Jaune exclaimed. “Look guys, she turned pink!”

At that precise moment, the only thing that saved Jaune from certain obliteration was the arrival of Yang, hands firmly planted in her ears and singing loudly. And badly.

“Yang?!” Weiss exclaimed.

“Oh no,” Ruby moaned. “Please no.”

Before anyone could ask, Blake slid into the dining room, with Sun hot on her heels.

“AH HA!” Blake exclaimed triumphantly. “You can’t keep plugging both ears and eat at the same time! Game over Yang!”

Yang gave Blake a defiant glare, sat in one of the empty seats, dipped her head into the bowl of hot soup in front of her, and proceeded to slurp as loudly as possible.

“I cannot begin to describe how disgusted I am right now,” Weiss said.

“What’s happening?” Oscar whispered to Ruby.

“Yang’s upset at Blake for leaving,” said Ruby miserably. “So she’s pretending not to hear us to get back at her.”

“Seriously?” Oscar looked skeptical.

“Do you have any siblings?” Ruby asked.

“No-”

“Then you wouldn’t understand.”

Blake clenched her fists. Before she was afraid. Now she was just infuriated. “You’re being ridiculous!” she shouted.

“Whash tha?” Yang sputtered through mouthfuls of soup. “I shtill cah ear oo!”

“AAARGH!”

Ren emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming platter of rice balls. “Hey everyone, I hope you’re ready for the main-”

Without thinking, Blake reached back, grabbed a rice ball, and hurled it across the table. It smacked directly into Yang’s cheek with a satisfying smack, splattering hot sticky rice all across her face and...

...hair.

Yang dropped her hands.

“-course.” Ren finished.

Yang grabbed a length of her hair and observed the mess entangled within. Her eyes began to glow red.

Ilia began to stand up from her chair but felt Sun’s hand on her shoulder. “Easy now,” he advised, looking pointedly at the Belladonnas who also looked about ready to fight.

“But we can take her,” Ilia seethed, glancing at Yang.

“Maybe. If it were all five of us. But first, you’d have to get through her.” Sun pointed at Nora. Nora was leaning menacingly over the table, the faint hum of electricity buzzing around her and a come-try-it glare plastered across her face.

“So,” Sun continued. “Faunus and human, let’s all try to get along. Shall we?”

Ilia sunk back into her chair with a huff. “I could take you,” she shot at Nora. “Just to be clear.”

Nora winked. “I’d love to see you try.”

Ilia tried very hard not to turn pink again.

“Should we do something?” Weiss whispered to Ruby.

“As team leader, I say the best option is not to take sides,” Ruby said.

“And let them kill each other?” Weiss replied.

“...maybe?”

Weiss shrugged. “Works for me.”

“There,” Blake said, looking at anyone but Yang. “Now, I believe I was in the middle of apologizing.”

“OH, YOU’RE GOING TO BE SORRY!” Yang screamed. She lunged across the table, spilling various foodstuffs all across the tablecloth, much to Ren’s dismay. Even with the aid of her semblance, Blake only barely managed to escape Yang’s first attack. Her afterimage shattered, leaving Yang to punch a solid crater into the plaster wall behind it.

“Yang please!” Blake said, holding up her hands and circling back around to the table. “I don’t want to fight you!”

“COULDA FOOLED ME!” Yang snarled. Her next attack came even closer, shattering yet another afterimage and splitting the table in two with a loud crack.

“Right,” said Ruby. “Time to go.”

The diners filed out of the room quickly and into the kitchen, leaving the two combatants to sort things out.

“Yang, please,” Blake tried one last time.

“NO!” Yang shouted. “I’M DONE WAITING FOR YOU TO GROW UP!” She threw another punch. Another after image shattered.

“Grow up?!” Blake snorted. “You’re the one acting like a child!”

“THAT WAS TO PROVE A POINT!” Punch. Shatter.

“Which was what exactly?!” Punch. Shatter. “WOULD YOU STOP THAT AND LET ME APOLOGIZE?”

“Go on then!” Yang said through labored breaths. “Apologize! That’s what you’ve been practicing all day, isn’t it?!”

Blake dove under one of the broken table halves, taking a moment to catch her breath and collect her thoughts.

“I’m sorry Yang,” she started. “I’m sorry I’m what lost you your arm.”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT IDIOT!”

“DON’T CALL ME AN IDIOT!” Blake shot back. The table above her splintered, giving way to Yang’s prosthetic fist. Blake screamed and shuffled back across the floor. The rest of the table shattered, leaving only an angry Yang poised before Blake. Again with the staring. Blake could feel her eyes starting to water. She swallowed her feelings and stood.

“I’m sorry Yang,” she continued. “I’m sorry I got you hurt.”

“You didn’t get me hurt!” Yang shouted. “I’m a huntress! Injuries happen! It’s part of the damn job!”

Yang lunged forward. Blake rolled out of the way, leaving behind another copy to fall at Yang’s hands. Blake was growing tired. She couldn’t keep dodging for much longer. Then again, Yang wasn’t looking so hot either.

Yang continued. “I’m UPSET because I haven’t heard a word from you since Beacon! I’m ANGRY because you left without saying goodbye! I’m FRUSTRATED because after taking a bullet for you, you’d rather run than thank me! I’m DEVASTATED because you thought I wouldn’t be grateful to you for SAVING MY LIFE!”

“....what?”

Punch. Shatter. Punch. Shatter. Punch. Shatter.

“You saved me Blake” Yang said. “I messed up, and if you hadn’t been there... Adam would have killed me for sure.”

“I…” Blake was drawing a blank.

Yang was sniffling now. “And I waited. I WAITED Blake. I waited then just like I waited today. And STILL you avoided me! Do I scare you that much?!”

“No, Yang!” Blake said, choking down her tears. “It’s not that! I had to leave! Adam was going to-”

“What?!” Punch, shatter. “What could Adam POSSIBLY have done?”

“HE SAID HE WAS GOING TO DESTROY EVERYONE I LOVED!”

For the first time, the two paused. Blake caught her breath and dared to look up. Yang was standing over her, fist raised but held steady. The red had faded from her eyes.

“Starting with you,” Blake continued. “He said he was going to destroy everyone I loved, starting with you. I had to leave. To protect you. I couldn’t let him… he’d already taken your arm. I couldn’t stand to let him take more.”

“So you weren’t running,” said Yang slowly. “You were protecting me?”

Blake nodded.

“Bullshit.”

The blow came so fast Blake didn’t have time to leave an image behind. All she could manage was to throw herself out of the way.

“IT’S THE TRUTH!” Blake shouted. “I HAD TO-”

“You HAD to leave without saying goodbye?!”

“I… no… I-” Blake was sobbing now. “I messed up Yang! I’m sorry! I just wanted to protect you!”

Yang snorted. “I can’t believe you listened to that loser! That’s what he wanted you know, to separate you. Make you vulnerable.”

Blake composed herself. “I made a mistake Yang. You have every right to be angry at me. I understand if you won’t forgive me. But I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Then why did you wait outside my door for FOUR HOURS?!”

Blake saw the blow coming. Yang was getting sloppy. They both were. Even so, the force was enough to send the after image to oblivion.

“Because I’m a coward!” Blake snapped. “Is that what you want to hear?! I’m scared of Adam! I’m scared of you! I’m scared I’ve ruined team RWBY beyond repair! But most of all I’m scared of myself. I’m scared I can’t trust myself anymore because…

“...because I loved you Yang. I loved you and I still left. And if I could leave you… what in all of Remnant could I possibly fight for?”

The moment slowed to a halt. It was as if someone had enchanted the air itself to hold still. Blake became acutely aware that Yang was crying.

“Stop. Saying. That.”

“What?” Blake blinked. The spell was broken. She forced herself to look at Yang. Her eyes were glowing red again.

“STOP. SAYING. YOU. LOVE. ME.” A furious punch came rushing at Blake. Blake leaped into the air and vaulted over Yang. She heard the telltale crack of another of her images breaking.

“It’s the truth,” Blake said. She felt oddly calm now. It was the truth. Even if she hadn’t quite managed to piece all together until this moment. Of course now would be the time she realized her feelings. Life changing revelations rarely occur at convenient moments.

“STOP RUNNING! STOP LYING!” Yang screamed. Punch, shatter. Punch, shatter.

“You want me to prove it?” Blake said. “Fine.” No more running.

Blake stood still. She brought her eyes up to face Yang’s. Even through Yang’s burning rage, Blake could see tears. She felt her heart tremble. A million thoughts washed over Blake in an instant, but one rang louder and truer than all others.

This is going to hurt.

Blake braced herself.

Punch,

-

“So… what is the plan… exactly?” Weiss asked timidly. All of the houseguests were huddled up quietly on the kitchen floor, eating vermicelli, all not daring to speak a word to each other. Crow, who had never left the kitchen, had long since moved on from his flask and was now chugging the remains of a half bottle of wine.

“Simple,” he said through enthusiastic gulps. “We all pretend like we never heard any of it.”

“They were very… loud,” Ren offered.

“And emotional,” Nora added, nodding for emphasis.

“I don’t like lying,” Ruby said.

“So suck it up,” Crow retorted. “That was a private conversation, and you all are eavesdroppers and should be ashamed.”

“Not like we had much choice,” Ilia muttered, a touch of resentment creeping into her voice.

“You heard them too!” Weiss pointed out.

Crow shrugged. “What are you talking about? I didn’t hear nuthin’.”

“Blake is our daughter,” Ghira started.

“Yeah, and Yang’s my niece,” Crow snapped. “Doesn’t matter. Private. Conversation.”

Ghira gave his wife a pleading look. Kali merely took another sip of her tea. “You heard the man, dear.”

“Sun?” Oscar asked. “Are you going to be okay?”

Sun had been sitting frozen in silence for the duration of the fight. He still hadn’t touched his food. Ilia gave him a conciliatory pat on the back.

“He’ll live,” she said cheerily.

-

Yang stepped over the remains of what was once a table, expensive china, and a meal prepared to serve 13. Far from the most collateral damage she’d ever incurred.

Blake was lying on the opposite side of the room. Her face was swollen. Blood was trickling down her nose.

“Blake?” Yang said quietly. Blake didn’t answer. “Blake!”

Yang raced to her side and knelt next to her friend. “You idiot! What did you go and do a stupid thing like that for?!”

“Unnnnghhhh…”

“Oh so you are alive,” said Yang crossly. “Or did you think you could get out of this by being unconscious?”

Blake grinned. Yang noticed, to her dismay dismay, a tooth was missing. “Believe me now?” Blake managed.

“I-” Yang felt the words catch in her throat. She opted instead to hug Blake. “Idiot…”

Couldn’t think of another way to calm you down,” Blake explained. “Had to do something.”

“I wouldn’t have- ...I didn’t mean…”

Blake shrugged. It was painful. “Some fights you’re not meant to win. And I’m done running.”

“I’m sorry Blake,” Yang said.

“Sorry for what?” Blake asked.

“Punching you in the face.”

“Oh. That.” Blake struggled to her feet. Yang lifted Blake up and over her shoulder. “Guess we’re even.”

“What? No way!” Yang said. “You leaving hurt waaay more.”

“Than a punch to the face?”

“I’ve been punched before,” Yang smiled. “So kinda yeah.”

Blake smiled back. “I’m sorry too,” Blake said. “I- I did what I thought was right, but I went about it all wrong. I never meant to hurt you Yang. But I swear I will do whatever it takes to make things better.”

“Are you still scared?” Yang asked. She could feel Blake trembling.

“Terrified,” Blake answered.

“But you’re still here,” Yang said.

Blake laughed. It turned into a pained cough. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two stood in silence for a moment. They were both too polite to notice the other was crying.

“So what now?” Blake asked.

Yang shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“Not really what I meant,” Blake smiled weakly.

“Blake, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I need some time.”

“Holy crap. Are you actually brooding right now?”

“Careful,” Yang warned. “I could still drop you.”

“Fair point,” said Blake, but she saw the playful look in Yang’s eye.

“You’re my friend Blake,” Yang said. “You’re- my best friend. I love you. At this point? I don’t think anything could change that.” Blake felt her heart leap in her chest. “But yeah,” Yang continued. “Time, I think.”

“Works for me,” Blake replied. “Cool arm, by the way. Feels just like the real thing.”

Yang couldn’t help but laugh.

-

“It’s been awfully quiet,” Weiss remarked.

It was true. There hadn’t been so much as a peep from the dining room for the past ten minutes.

Weiss tried to peek through the door. “Maybe we could-”

Suddenly, the door swung open. An exhausted Yang was supporting a badly bruised Blake, face bloodied and swollen. They were quite a sight.

Blake broke the silence. “Hey all. Is there… still food?”

Crow motioned for them both to sit and portioned them both plates of vermicelli.

“Thanks,” the two said in unison.

The little group sat in silence as the two began to eat.

Yang swallowed a mouthful of noodles. “So uhhh… you guys didn’t hear any of that, didya?”

There was a moment’s hesitation.

“Noooooooo!”

“Of course not!”

“Just a lot of thumping and banging!”

“The walls here are just s-so thick!” Ruby stammered. “Can’t hear anything that goes on, definitely not.” Ruby laughed nervously.

“Good,” said Blake. “Because it was private.”

“Yeah,” said Yang, eying Ruby dangerously. “Private.” Ruby quickly wolfed down the rest of her vermicelli.

“Umm… sweetie...” ventured Ghira.

“Yeah dad?”

“Is your face okay?”

Blake paused and felt around the bruise. “Definitely not,” she decided.

“That’s okay!” Weiss chimed in. “Jaune can fix that! He has healing powers now.”

“Huh,” said Blake. “Cool.”

“So where is he?” Yang asked.

The group glanced around the kitchen.

“Shit,” muttered Crow.

-

Nora lifted the remaining table half to find Jaune huddling underneath.

“Is- is it over?” he asked.

Nora rolled her eyes. “Come on goof. Blake needs healing and Ren made mochi for dessert.”

“Oo, mochi!”

#rwby #yang #blake #bumbleby #rwby fanfiction #my fanfiction #I've never written a fanfic before #so uhhh #hopefully it's good

[musicprincess655]

Hello @baserun! I’m your secret santa for the @fydaiyanoace exchange. I hope you like it!

Ryou was going to die, and this term paper was going to kill him.

He was beyond the point of caring. The paper was trash and he knew it, and he was going to have to turn it in anyway because the deadline was in a few days and he had absolutely no clue how to fix it.

“Ryou-san.”

Right. Kuramochi had let himself in with his spare key, almost without Ryou noticing him come in. He’d been sitting quietly, patiently waiting for Ryou to finish up what he was working on. It was so different from how dynamic he was in other parts of their lives that Ryou had legitimately forgotten he was there.

“You should take a break,” Kuramochi suggested. “You’re grinding your jaw.”

“This paper is due in three days, Youichi,” Ryou said. Even he could hear the edge in his voice.

“And sitting here grinding your jaw isn’t going to make it more done,” Kuramochi said firmly. “You haven’t typed anything in five minutes. I brought you dinner. At least eat it before it gets cold.”

Ryou’s stomach gave an unpleasant gurgle at that. He’d started working on this as soon as he’d woken up on his free day, and he hadn’t moved from this spot as the sun had moved over him and eventually gone down. Much as he hated to admit it, he was starving.

“I got spicy curry from that place you like,” Kuramochi went on. “Ignore your term paper for a few minutes and come eat dinner.”

“I’m going right back after I eat,” Ryou threatened.

“That’s fine,” Kuramochi said. “Just eat something. I’m worried about you.”

Ryou would never admit it, but he found the way Kuramochi went into spirals of mild fretting interminably cute. Doubly so when he started fretting over Ryou, because of the two of them, Kuramochi needed fretting over far more often than Ryou himself did.

Ryou inhaled the curry, barely slowing down to gulp some water down to soothe the burn that affected even him. There was a reason this place was his favorite; it was the only one that heard his request of make it melt the inside of my mouth and didn’t assume that was an exaggeration or refuse on grounds of “safety”.

“If you were hoping the food would make me stop working on the paper and pay attention to you, it’s not gonna happen tonight,” Ryou said, setting his chopsticks down. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you for a week, but this is worth fifty percent of my grade.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Kuramochi assured him. “I’m here for moral support.”

“Are you now?” Ryou asked silkily. “You’re going to sit here silently and think positive things at me?”

“Yes.”

Sometimes Ryou forgot that it wasn’t as easy to tease Kuramochi as it had been when they were still in high school. Age and a few years as a pro baseball player had taken the edge off his temper, and he’d learned better than to rise to every trap Ryou tried to bait him into. In fact, with Ryou’s status as a college senior keeping him in a near-constant state of stress, Kuramochi had become the more stable of the two of them.

“Come on,” Kuramochi said, depositing their cups in the sink. “I’ll do dishes later. You wanted to get back to your paper.”

Ryou was ready to park himself right back where he’d been sitting on the couch for so long that it would never lose the perfect imprint of his ass, but found that Kuramochi was occupying the space instead.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Kuramochi said, patting the space between his legs. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

“How is this supposed to help?” Ryou asked, raising one eyebrow.

“It can’t hurt,” Kuramochi shrugged. “And at least this way I can remind you to stop grinding your jaw so you don’t have to pay for expensive dental work.”

“Is this just your way of trying to cuddle because you feel neglected?”

“Maybe,” Kuramochi admitted, blush rising in his cheeks. “If I was really bothering you, you would’ve kicked me out already.”

He had a point.

Ryou grabbed his laptop and settled between Kuramochi’s legs, leaning back into his chest. He’d put on an impressive amount of muscle during his years of playing pro ball, and it was nice to rest against. Kuramochi rested his chin on Ryou’s shoulder to look at the laptop screen, looping his arms around Ryou’s waist.

“You’re probably not going to follow this,” Ryou warned him. He felt Kuramochi shrug.

“I didn’t even know you could write papers for math before you majored in it,” Kuramochi said. “I’m not here to help you write the paper. I’m just making sure you don’t go crazy doing it.”

“Quiet now.”

“Shutting up.”

Ryou had to admit, he was surprised at how well Kuramochi was behaving himself. He wasn’t fidgeting or making noise, sitting almost perfectly still and watching the words appear on Ryou’s laptop screen. In almost no time, Ryou had forgotten he was there entirely, just as he had when Kuramochi had let himself in earlier.

Until Kuramochi poked his cheek.

“You’re grinding your jaw again,” he said before Ryou could snap at him for breaking his concentration. “And you’ve been staring at that last sentence for a few minutes. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s bad,” Ryou said.

“Why?”

“This isn’t exactly what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I’m not teaching you differential calculus right now.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Kuramochi said. “I’m saying to say what you mean.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It should be,” Kuramochi said. “You’re really good at this stuff. You’re just frustrated because you’ve been working on this for too long.”

“Sometimes I think you overestimate me,” Ryou told him.

“You’re underestimating yourself,” Kuramochi countered. “I don’t really get math, but I’ve sort of been following your logic in this. I think it’s a good paper, and at least you’re done actually writing and you’re just editing. I think you’re chasing yourself around in circles because you’ve been staring at this too long.”

“That’s because…”

“It’s important, I know,” Kuramochi cut him off, squeezing him around the waist. “But at least you’re most of the way done. It’s not like you’re doing the last minute scramble to finish it.”

“Like you did in high school?” Ryou teased. Kuramochi made some noise of protest.

“There’s a reason only one of us is getting a degree,” he agreed. “Go to bed, Ryou-san. You’re just going to drive yourself crazy if you work on this anymore tonight. You still have a few days to tweak it, right?”

Ryou hummed in answer. Now that he’d finally stopped his laser focus on his term paper - one that hadn’t been broken even during dinner, his mind wrapped up in formulas even as he shovelled curry into his mouth - he was starting to shut down. Without his permission, his body was relaxing backwards into Kuramochi’s chest, head nodding down.

“Come on,” Kuramochi said, gently shaking his shoulder. “Bed. The paper will be here in the morning.”

Ryou had to admit that he had a point, even if it was a point he didn’t want to concede. Being human really sucked sometimes. If he could ignore his need to sleep, he could get so much more done.

He shivered as he walked into his room, the warmth from the heater staying trapped in the living area.

“Good night, Ryou-san,” Kuramochi said. Ryou turned to see him heading for the door.

“You could stay the night, you know,” Ryou said, making the offer even as he knew it was a bad idea.

“No, I couldn’t,” Kuramochi said. “I know you have to focus on school right now. Make it up to me when your finals are done.”

“Impertinent,” Ryou said, letting one side of his mouth slide up.

“I’ll see you later,” Kuramochi said, waving over his shoulder. Ryou turned into his room, passing out almost immediately despite the cold, never having actually gotten out of his sleep pants that day.

Maybe it was Kuramochi’s influence, or maybe it was just the effect of being full of his favorite food, but that night was the best Ryou had slept since he’d entered the home stretch of his time in college. Rather than rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn like he had for the last week, he blinked his eyes open to mid morning sunshine streaming through his window, feeling better rested than he had in over a month.

He really had missed Kuramochi in these trying times of finals. He was looking forward to being able to spend more time with his boyfriend when this was all over.

Opening his laptop once again, he saw that what Kuramochi had been saying last night was true. It really was much better than he’d thought it was at ten at night.

He could do this.

And the tonsil hockey he was going to play with Kuramochi as soon as this was done was going to be worth it.

#fydnasecretsanta #baserun #kuraryou #kuraryo #daiya no a #ace of diamond #my writing #dnaoneshot

[emilysidhe]

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son

But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity

Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”

And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!”

(Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)

And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.

So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!

(Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)

So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.

“So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

Now the prince, being a day shy of 21, doesn’t care about the fairy’s rank so much as the fact that, even though fairies go thousands of years without aging, this particular one has been around for so many millennia that she actually looks like an old woman, and not like Helen Mirren old, but, like, ugly old crone old.

But between his mom’s letters and visits and the influence of the good fairy, he has managed to be raised right, so instead of saying this aloud he goes,

“But ... you raised me?   Like ... almost from a baby?  You’re like ... my aunt?”

And just like an anonymous dude on an online dating site, the rejection drives her NUTS.  She starts flipping tables and screaming about how dare he insult her and finally she transforms him into a hideous beast and puts these stipulations on the curse:

It can only be broken if a beautiful maiden comes to him, of her own free will, fully believing that he is going to eat her (because monster), and then later agrees to marry him, out of duty, again of her own free will and not because he threatened her or bribed her or told her anything about his real identity or what’s actually going on.  Oh, and if he uses his charm and courtly manners to woo her and win her over it doesn’t count either, bye!

So then the good fairy shows up the next morning for the coronation, she finds the grounds empty, the court and servants fled, and a hideous monster roaming the halls wailing, “Why did this happen to MEEEEE?” and she’s like, “What the fuck did I miss?”

But once she’s caught up, the good fairy is like, “OK, chill, I got this.”

And the Beast is all, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT THIS THIS CURSE IS UNBREAKABLE!”

“No, it’s cool, I have a plan.  So first, I’m gonna conjure you some invisible spirits of the air to replace your human servants, because, as a prince, you can’t live without the service due to your station, right?”

And the Beast is all, “Yes, this is the 1700s so having servants is even more vital to my identity than a human body, that is absolutely the top priority I’m glad we’re on the same page here.  Also, good thing you’re not turning my human servants into moving furniture, cause that would be weird.”  *looks pointedly at 1756 version*

“Cool.  So now that we’ve solved the most pressing emergency of you potentially having to feed and dress yourself, the long-term plan:  The reason I haven’t been around so much is that I’ve been popping off to look in on this other child of a friend of mine, a half-fairy changeling girl being raised by human merchants, and she’s not only gorgeous, but very dutiful and good and I think she’s just the person to break this spell.  Plus if the plan works and she ends up married to you, the king, I will have fulfilled my promise to her mother that I would take care of her.  Two birds, one stone.”

“And she’s, like, my age?”

“Yes.”

“Cool, cool, liking the plan.  But how do we get her to come here believing that I’m going to eat her?”

“Well, her foster-dad lost all his money a few years back, but he just found out that one of his ‘lost’ ships came in after all and he was about to leave to check it out when I left them.  He asked all his girls what they wanted him to bring back for them, and Beauty only asked for a rose.  So, I’ll use my magic to make sure he can’t find a rose in the city, and get him lost around here on his way back.  You put him up for the night and make sure he leaves past the rose garden - he’ll obviously pick one, then you can freak out and call him a thief and say you’re going to eat him but will let him go say good-bye to his daughters first.  When she hears the story, Beauty will definitely come in his place because she’s the one who asked for the rose.  But when she gets here, you will instead become such an incredibly good host that she’ll eventually feel obligated to marry you via the rules of hospitality.  Oh!  And I’ll enchant some of the rooms with, like, self-playing instruments and mirrors that let her watch the opera and stuff so she’ll totally love it here.”

“This sounds great!  Thank you, good fairy, I’d never be able to do this alone.”

“Right. The only thing you have to remember is:  Don’t Be Charming.  No flowery compliments, no witty banter, nothing.”

“But I’m a prince!  All I do is charm!”*

“Hold it in.”

And that’s all the backstory, but before we go I just want to mention that the Warrior Queen Mother shows up while all of this is being explained to Beauty and she’s all, “Thank you so much for saving my son, but he can’t marry you, your dad’s a merchant.”  And the prince is like, “No, I’m marrying her.”  And the fairy’s like, “She’s half-fairy.”

Then it’s all, “No seriously, you can’t marry a peasant.”  And “No seriously, my twenty-first birthday passed at like the start of the curse, I’m technically the king now, and you can’t actually stop me.”  “Fairies outrank everybody.”

And they’re at a stalemate until the Fairy gives an exasperated sigh and is like, “I stand by my assertion that fairies outrank everybody to the point where in marrying a half-fairy your son would be marrying up, but would it help if Beauty’s biological dad was a lowly human king?  Cause he was.” “Yes, that ... fixes everything.”  “Great.  Well, I’m gonna head on back to Fairyland and work on getting that evil fairy arrested and becoming powerful enough to turn into a snake**, so, uh, I’m not coming to the wedding but don’t think I won’t curse you if you don’t invite me anyway, bye!”  grumbling:  “stupid humans”

Fin

*this is presented as a legitimate plot-point, that charming the pants off Beauty when they meet for dinner is something the prince actively has to resist to the point where he’s eventually afraid to say anything to her other than, “Will you marry me today?” lest something clever or flattering slip out.

**There was a lot of internal politics and machinations of the various fairies that the humans were basically pawns in that I cut out, especially from Beauty’s backstory, and a surprising amount of that revolved around who had and had not become powerful enough to turn into a snake.  Lifegoals, apparently

#beauty and the beast #fairy tales

[iacceptthatchibby]

Words that hurt the most- Part One

~(Okay so this is my first time every posting something I wrote so please don't be super critical I'm learning (always open to advice though) :)))) The reader is worried about her boyfriend Filip after hearing news about a Mayan incident. 

***smutt***

“Filip!” you yell from the kitchen.

“Yes love?” you hear heavy treaded footsteps make their way up the hallway. Filip turns the corned to meet you in the kitchen.

“I’ll be working late tonight so would you be able to water the plants for me?” you smirk looking around at the dozens of plants around the two of you. He sighed then smiled at you.

“Ana’ thing for you lass.” You beam up at him and he pulls you in for a kiss. Lips dancing softly first, then his tongue glides over your bottom lip, and you allow the kiss to become more intense. Soon this becomes a struggle for control tongues battling each other. Your head told you you needed to get to work so you broke away from his lips.

“I-have-to-go” you said giggling as he pecked at your lips between each word.

“Nah, how ‘bout ye stay home taday?” he joked.

“I wish I could.” You kissed him once more before turning to leave. “Be safe love.” Filip said before smacking your ass, his signature departing gift. “I always am.” You yelled back still beaming.

...

You and Filip “Chibs” Telford have been together for about 7 months. You were an accountant who happened to be good friends with Lyla. She was in desperate need of someone to help her run the porn studio, someone she could trust. You had grown up together, despite her being a few years older than you, you were the best of friends. 

You quickly hit it off with Filip despite the age gap. You were 23 and had never thought you would be attracted to an older man until you meet this outlaw biker and instantly fell head over heals. But in all honestly you never expected a relationship. You just though you would be a quick fuck for him and life would go back to normal. But thats not what happened at all. Five months into the relationship SAMCRO’s president became such a regular guest at your house he decided to leave his small apartment and the two of you were officially living together. 

So the two of you were happily in love. But you always worried about your lover. There was always a little part of your head that constantly asked if he was okay? If he was safe? His job was dangerous and unpredictable, he could be gone for weeks at a time and there was always a possibility of serious jail time. The two of you had discussed it twice. It was not a subject he liked to visit often, he assured you the club was moving in legitimate business directions but there was always a possibility of old dirt or new beef. But this struggle was felt by everyone involved with the club. Its something you learned to live with because you loved your man.

...

“Hey babe.” Lyla exclaimed as you made your way to her small desk, where she rarely spent any time. 

“Hey girl, do you have time to sign this?” you said handing her the piece of paper. “Of course” she smiled taking it and signing it. While still looking down at the paper she said “Hey whats up with all this Mayans business?” 

“Mayans business?” I asked.

“You didn't hear? Tiggy just told me that one of the prospects was shot in the foot the other day by one of Alvarez’s right hand men. Chibs had to patch him up. He didn't tell you?”

“No he didn't say anything.” There was that little part of your head again, nagging at you asking if Filip was safe. “Is it bad? Like something for us to be worried about?” You said now, trying your best to hide the worry in your voice.

“Not sure” she replied looking up at you. “Im sure if it was Chibs would have said something to you. Anyways they're boys, always having little disagreements.”

“Yeah your right, sucks for the prospect though.”

 She laughed “Yes it does”.

...

You make your way out of the studio that day. You weren't really to concerned about the information Lyla had dropped on you earlier. Like she said it was extremely common for the Sons and the Mayans to have little spats. 

By the time you got home it was around ten, and you noticed Fillips bike was missing. Oh well you figured he had a later night that expected. You got inside and made yourself a quick dinner and watered your plants, which confirmed your earlier thought. He hadn't been home at all today. Then you jumped in the shower. 

Letting the steam hug your body you stood in the shower and tried to unwind from today. Nothing to stressful had happened but it was still a long day. Then very faintly you could hear the rumble of a bike pulling into the driveway. A smile played on your lips, as you heard the front door open.

“(Y/N)?” you heard him call. 

“Shower!” you yelled back hoping so desperately he would decide to join you.

And your hoping payed off because within moments your man was stripped and stepping into the shower with you. 

“Hello love” Filip smiled as his arms snaked around you from behind. And he pressed a kiss in the crook of your neck making you shiver despite the heat in the shower. 

You turned around to face him “Hello” you smiled up at him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I missed you today. I was hoping you would come visit me at work.” 

“Mmmm well I'm sorry ‘bout that love it was a busy day.” His nose brushed against yours. With a smirk he said “But I'm sure I could find some way to make it up to ye.” 

“And how’s that?” You asked innocently bringing your eyes up to meet his. 

“We could start like this.” He said as he kissed down your jaw to your neck. Once his lips meet your neck they licked and sucked, leaving small marks in their wake. You gasp quietly at the contact. “Does this help lass?”

“Your getting there” you smile.

His lips trail down further meeting your breasts, which makes your back arch slightly and a whimper escapes your lips. He takes a nipple in his mouth sucking lightly. “Filip” you groan. You could feel his smile as he releases your nipple and trails down your torso farther and farther knowing exactly where you needed him. 

He stops at your core and his lips ghost over your aching clit. “Please” you beg him. He places one kiss to your center. “So needy, you really must have missed me.” You whine which makes him laugh and then he goes to work. 

He licks a line up your slit and you lean back onto the shower wall. You gasp as he suddenly sucks harshly at your clit, then adds a finger to your center. You drop your head to watch him work. Lips intently sucking at you and he adds a second finger to stroke the places only he knows about perfectly. The places that make you whimper and wither under his touch. You can feel yourself nearing your climax, as he strokes your walls intensely. And suddenly he stops and stands up to meet you.”Ugghhh why Fillip??” you whine “Waters getting cold” he smiled. He knew nothing frustrated you more that when he denied your orgasm. “You better get ta the bedroom quick” he smirked at you, as he turns the water off.

You both got out of the shower and hurried to the bedroom. “Now please finish what you started.” You say as you sit down on the bed. “Happily.” Fillip says and your lips meet again for a harsh kiss. He lays you down and nudges your legs apart with his knees. Taking his time he lines himself up and enters you slowly making your mouth fall open and you eyes shut. He starts out at a slow steady pace making you even more frustrated than before. “Please Fillip” you groan gripping his arm. “Please what lass?” he asks with a cocky smile. “Please faster please” you beg, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his waist trying to take his deeper. 

He does as you ask and slams into you making your hand curl into his hair. “ Filip” you moan over and over again. He grunts above you “Ah ye feel so good shite” you can feel his thrusts becoming irregular and he reached his hand down to rub circles on your sensitive clit. That was enough to send you over the edge calling his name and withering beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you making you shake and shiver under him. He finished moments later, pushed over the edge by your reaction to the orgasm he just gave you. Calling your name he collapsed on top of you. You bring your hand back up to his head and run your fingers lovingly through his hair as he recovers. 

Moments later he rolls over then leans in to capture your lips. You both smile “Well how was your day?” you ask with a smile playing on your lips. When you both had late nights like this the sex usually come first then the talking. 

“Pretty boring, just finished up some things in Oakland. Basic stuff.” He took your hand in his and kissed it sweetly. “Whatta ‘bout yours love?”

“Paperwork as always.” For some reason what Lyla said earlier popped into your mind. “Lyla told me a prospect got hurt the other day, is he okay?” you ask. Fillips face dropped a little “Yeah ‘es okay love. Just a misunderstanding.” 

“What happened?” you asked lowly. You knew it wasn't really any of your business but Filip normally told you what was going on in the Sons world.

“You don't need to worry about it love.” He said letting go of your hand. “You should get some sleep” he said with a small smile.

“Okay” you said quietly. Prying wasn't something you liked to do when it involved the club. He leaned over kissing your forehead then wrapping his arms around you. “Night love” he whispered in your ear. “Goodnight.” You whisper back. 

Your thoughts kept you up for hours after Fillip was sleeping softly beside you. That little voice telling you there was more to the story than just a Mayan misunderstanding, more to worry about. 

#chibs #chibs telford #chibs x reader #chibs imagine #soa chibs #soa smut #filip telford #soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine

[hisquccn]

Spoils of War Chapter 4

Previously Royai Royalty but now I’ve given it a legitimate name... 

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3

I am also posting this to AO3 now but I’ve only posted chapter 1 on there now. I’m taking my time and not giving time limits on myself because that’s how I burn myself out sooo... i hope you enjoy. Feel free to reblog this, yes I’m a rp blog, but it’s whatever. Rp and fanfiction are both my forms of writing so it’s cool. Feel free to drop some comments in my askbox or whatevs too.

Summary: The prince used to love his gifts from his knights as they conquered new lands, until he realized the blood that was spilled for each new object. As he grew unhappy with material possessions, the knights resorted to bringing him less willing spoils of battle. He has to put an end to their capturing of innocent people… Hopefully his new prize, a blonde with a temper larger than his kingdom, can help him set the country free…

“A month.”

The dark haired man turned his eyes from his desk to the blonde in the room. He'd been so caught up with the papers on his desk that he hadn't even heard the woman enter. “A month?”

“That's how long you've kept me here.” She explained. Despite the conversation, she never turned to him. Instead, she did her duties as his maid; changing the bedding and collecting the dishes from the most recent meal he'd enjoyed at his desk. “You told me you'd let me go.”

Roy laid his quill down gently, sighing tiredly. The duties of a prince, it seemed, piled higher each day. He'd stop enjoying the company of others in the dining hall for dinner, and instead chose to retreate to his room. He'd made a promise, however, and she'd been patient. The murmurs about the newcomer in the prince's chambers had died down after a week or so, but his worries, as well as his other duties, kept him from following through on his word.

“You're right.” Pushing himself from the desk, he stretched his stiff muscles, cracking his knuckles. “I'll get you out of here. I'm sorry it's taken so long.”

The way her brown eyes widened told him she didn't expect him to follow through so easily. A pang of guilt shot through him for losinghimself so deeply in his work that he'd left her to clean his messes and she'd waited patiently for him to release her. “Tomorrow.” He told her. “I'll take you back to your village or anywhere else if you prefer.

“With the right company guarding me, you can slip away unnoticed, and you will be free. So where is it you'd like to go, Miss Riza?”

Her new name, Elizabeth, was used by everyone but him. He'd explained the importance to her of keeping under the title until her freedom. No one would search for her by a name they did not know, after all. Roy, however, never seemed able to stick to the rule unless under prying eyes and listening ears. In private, she was Miss Riza, and she'd never once corrected him.

“Home.” She answered, simply. “I need to check on my father.”

His dark eyes narrowed, a mixture of confusion and something else, almost like anger, flickered through them. “Your father who sold you. Who is the reason you're here in the first place.”

“The only father I have.” She answered, simply. She turned away once again, focusing on her duties as chambermaid. “Though it doesn't seem like this was the worst place he could have sold me to.”

“But it could have been.” He mumbled. “You could have been taken by the knights. They would have used you and never let you go.”

“But I wasn't. If I'm not mistaken, it was you who made sure that didn't happen. And for that, I'm grateful. However, there is no poing in being angry about what could have happened.”

There was an unprincely huff that came from the male. “What if he sells you again? Or someone comes to take you back?”

“Then I'll be sold or I'll come back.” She told him. “Coming back here would be the least of my problems. I have to admit, cleaning up after a spoiled prince in exchange for hot meals, a warm bed, and access to a bath is a pretty nice deal.” She laughed. It was a rare sound to his ears, but it was just infectious enough to rid the male of the angry look on his face, only to be replaced by a soft expression of concern.

“If it's not that bad then why don't you just stay?” The question came out quietly, a half-hearted request he didn't consider before it slipped from his lips.

Riza frowned. He wasn't entirely sure how to read her expression. Disappointment, perhaps? “Because he's my father.”

Her answer didn't sit well with him. Instead of complaining further, however, he simply turned back to his work. “Tomorrow.” He repeated, the softness in his voice replaced by an almost cold formality. “I'll take you home.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

The way she addressed him made him wince, but he said nothing, hearing her exit the room as his quill scratched along paper.

---

“You look tired.” The blonde greeted, following alongside the prince on the way to the stables.

She wasn't wrong. After an early breakfast with a side of scolding from his father, not to mention the late night worries for the other's safety, his eyes were shadowed with fatigue. “I'm fine.” He told her, “Thank you for your concern, Elizabeth.” Outside his chambers, even seemingly alone, he reminded himself of the name to use. “Can you ride?”

She nodded, stepping into the stable. “Though coming back with a riderless horse will draw attention, won't it?”

“I won't be coming back with one.” He commented simply. “She will be yours.” He lifted a saddle onto a brown house, a white diamond of fur decorated her face. “Her name is Lieutenant. She's a good horse. Though, not my personal one. She's one of many unclaimed extra horses, but she deserves the attention of a kind owner.”

“Thank you.” He expected an argument, but was gratefully surprised. “I'll treat her well.”

“Thank you.”

“Your highness!” A young boy, shocked and disheveled, dropped pails of feed to his side, almost toppling to the side before he caught them, bowing deeply. “Your highness, I'm sorry. I prepared Colonel, I wasn't aware you wished to take another for your ride this afternoon.” The stableboy bowed once more, shoveling the small bit of food from the ground back into the pail from which it fell.

“You weren't mistaken.” Roy corrected. “Don't worry. I was only bringing Lieutenant along for miss Elizabeth.”

“I could've--”

“I'm perfectly capable of saddling a horse. Thank you.” He chuckled gently. “The others are ready for the lunch you brought them, though. Continue where you left off.” Roy nodded respectfully in passing as he led the mare from the stables, his guest following beside him.

Only one of Roy's guards joined them. A stocky male with a face more serious than his nature rode to the prince's side. According to Roy, he was aware of the purpose of their day trip, but without any guard at all, the entire army would be on the hunt for the runaway royalty. Even in the company of his friend, however, she was still Elizabeth.

Once outside the city, the men allowed Riza to take the lead. “Do you know the way from here?” The prince asked. “I doubt you had the chance to look around on your way in.”

She nodded. “I've traveled to the city before.” She answered. “You don't need to follow along from here. Thank you.”

There was almost a sad smile that painted itself on Roy's lips. “What kind of hero would I be if I didn't see you home safely, my damsel in distress?” He teased, half-heartedly.

Riza chuckled gently. “What kind of damsel in distress punches her hero on the day they first meet?”

“My favorite kind.” He admitted. “Thank you for putting me in my place, but please let me escort you a bit further.”

There was a deep breath drawn, the faintest of colors distracting the young prince as they spread across the woman's cheeks. “Fine.” She said. “A bit further.”

There was a small smile on the guards lips, but not a word was said as they went. It was a omstly quiet trip, the three of them only breaking the silence for offhanded comments about the weather and the crops they'd passed. Roy kept his cloak, a plain dark brown fabric, pulled over his head, stating it was to protect his porcelain skin, though Hans, the young guard, corrected that it was to draw less attention. A couple of hours after their exit from the city, they saw a bustling village before them.

“That's it.” She told them. “Thank you, again, for the escort.”

Roy bowed his head, Hans following suit behind him. The prince reached over from his horse, a black stallion, and scratched the mare behind her ear gently. “Treat her well, Lieutenant.”

The blonde smiled. “I will do the same for her. Though I can't promise it will live up to a royal stable.”

With a small smile he shook his head. “She's a simple horse. The love and attention is all she needs. Royalty was just where she was placed.” Roy heard the fading steps of Hans' horse as he trotted back, giving the two of them the privacy for a proper farewell. “Thank you for being patient with me. And thank you for your time, Miss Riza.”

“It wasn't as though it was given by choice.” She commented. It might've been meant as a joke, the prince wasn't sure, but she continued. “Thank you for giving my time back. And thank you for making the time pass... pleasantly. Perhaps too quickly as pleasant as it was.”

“You can always come back.” He almost pleaded. He wasn't even sure why his voice sounded so desperate. In the month they'd met, they'd spent a few nights alone, talking about where she grew up, the life he lived as a child, sometimes simple things like how their day had went when they were trying to keep suspicions low. They'd never spoken too deeply, however. They'd never gotten so close that he should want more, but perhaps that was his regret, after all.

“You know that's not true.”

“I don't.”

“You don't want to.” She said, firmly. “You don't want to believe this is goodbye, but it is. Thank you for a month I'll never forget. It was a the best gift I never asked for. And thank you for bringing me back home.”

“Thank you...” He mumbled. He wasn't sure what he was thankful for, but it didn't feel right not to say it. “Thank you, Miss Riza.”

She didn't ask why, perhaps she knew what he didn't. “Goodbye, Roy.”

As she rode away, he couldn't help but wonder if he should have been different. Should he have kept her? Should he have never let her go? His name fell from her lips leaving more excitement in him than the fine silk placed before him at twelve-years-old, and more pain than when he'd first fallen from his horse at eight. How bitter it was that he'd never hear that sound again. All because he let her go.

His world felt colder without her. He couldn't figure out if it was that cold before she was brought to him, or if she'd simply left it colder than she'd found it.

With a deep breath, the prince lifted his head, turning to his guard, nodding quietly before they began their journey back.

Three years time was all it took for the forever that wedged between them to come to an end. In three years time, she'd be back at his feet, hair how past her shoulders, eyes as fierce as he'd first seen, and his skin warmed once more in her presence.

#royai royalty #royai fanfiction #fullmetal alchemist fanfiction #fma fanfiction #fma #fullmetal alchemist #royai #roy x riza #riza hawkeye #roy mustang

[shinewithalltheuntold]

OQ Fic - Miss You All the Time

Miracle of miracles, I have finally finished one of the OQ fics that have been languishing in my fic folder.  This is version one of two “what if Robin was in Storybrooke for the first curse” fics that grabbed onto my muse this summer and refused to let go.  

So here you go, Robin and Regina in Storybrooke during the first curse.  Rated T, no warnings apply.  Angsty, because it’s me.

“There is nothing more to say, your Majesty.” His voice is acid and the words are burning straight through to the bone, the pain of it all leaving her voiceless. “You and I are done.”

The front door closes with a quiet click.  It rips at her heart because she knows he wanted nothing more than to slam that door with all the strength he possessed, but held back because despite his rage he didn’t want to wake the little boy sleeping soundly just up the stairs.

“Mommy?” Or perhaps not so soundly.  No no no she thinks frantically.  She had been so careful not to let her voice rise too loud, even at the end when she had been absolutely desperate to make him see her side.  To make him understand how sorry she was, not for casting the curse – she would never be sorry for coming here and finding her way to Henry – but for talking with him that day in front of the preschool.  For allowing him to ease her motherly concern. For agreeing to let him walk her to work. For listening to him talk about his own struggles as a parent. For not throwing him out the door the day he showed up at her office with a picnic lunch. For catching his sweet little boy at the bottom of the slide while he pushed hers on the swing. For dinners and cartoons and sleepovers and soft stolen kisses.  For falling in love with him and being too selfish to prevent him from falling in love with her as well.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Her baby’s sweet voice is high and soft with concern.  She wants to turn and sweep him into her arms, but she can’t let him see the devastation she knows is written all over her face.  She tries to discreetly swipe at her eyes as she hears him move closer, the shuffle of his pajama covered feet getting louder.  She tries to breathe but it’s so hard because everything hurts so badly right now. Not since Daniel has she felt this kind of pain.

How fitting.

His little hand is on her arm, and his voice is wobbly with tears as he says her name again. He doesn’t ask her if she’s okay this time; her precious empathetic little boy has already figured out that his mother is anything but okay.  She tries lying to him anyway.

“It’s okay, baby,” she says. She turns and scoops him quickly into her arms, to comfort him and to keep him from seeing her tears. He buries his face in her shoulder as she strokes his hair. “Everything’s okay.  Mommy’s here.”

“Did Wobin go home?” Henry asks drowsily as Regina does her best to lull him back to sleep.  He still sounds a bit worried as he adds, “Is that why you’re sad?”

She presses a kiss to his temple. “Yes, baby.  Robin went home.  But I’m not sad.” Her arms tighten around him. “How could I be sad when I have my little prince with me?”

“But you were crying. I heared you,” he says. She sighs, of course he did.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. I just…I got my fingers stuck in the door when I was closing it behind Robin and it hurt a little bit.”

It’s not much of a lie, but however perceptive he might be, Henry is still just a little boy.  And for a little boy, getting fingers squashed in a door is a perfectly legitimate reason to cry.  He lifts his head and presses pudgy fingers to her cheeks, clumsily trying to wipe away her tears.  He looks at her solemnly.

“I’m gonna kiss dem so they feel better,” he makes the offer solemnly, and tears well in her eyes again. Her sweet, sweet little prince.  She smiles and shifts her grip so she can raise one hand to his face.  He leans over and presses firm wet kisses against each finger and then leans back with a grin.

“All better!” he declares happily, and she forces away the rest of her tears as she agrees with him and then tells him it’s time for him to return to bed.  He pouts at that, pleads hunger and thirst and requests a glass of milk and a cookie.  She shakes her head, but does carry him to the kitchen for a small glass of water. Once he’s finished, she carries him back to his room.

She starts to lay him in his bed but he tightens his grip around her neck. “Sleep with you tonight, mommy, please?”

She fights the instinctive ‘no’ that rises to her lips.  She still vividly recalls the one time in childhood she had been driven from her own bed by a fierce storm; she was a little younger than Henry is now. Remembers how harshly her mother had dealt with her tearful request to sleep in her parents’ bed, dragging her back to her room and using magic to keep her trapped under her blankets.  Her father had tried to comfort her, and had snuck into her room the next time it stormed particularly hard to try and calm her fears, but at that point she was more afraid of Mother’s wrath than the storm and pretended to be fine.  He never came in again and she never forgot that lesson.  Passed it onto Snow the first time her step-daughter came running to her rooms after a nightmare pleading to be allowed to stay.  She had refused, and the next morning when Snow relayed Regina’s rejection to Leopold she had expected to be punished for it. She had been shocked when Leopold agreed that Snow was too old for such things; it was one of the few times in their marriage that Leopold had sided with her over his daughter.  Of course, she quickly realized that his reasoning was selfish – he wanted her available at any time to fulfill her ‘wifely duties’.

But that was the Enchanted Forest, not Storybrooke.  And Regina had read all the parenting books and absorbed all the information she could on raising children in the Land Without Magic.  While advice varied somewhat, she usually found that if she simply tried to do the exact opposite of what Cora had done, she was probably doing it correctly.  That included letting Henry sleep with her when he was afraid or unwell, or just wanted to be close to her.  

With that in mind, she cuddles Henry close and tells him that of course he can sleep with her, and grabs his favorite blanket and his stuffed dragon and tucks him into her bed. Once she has changed into her nightclothes, washed off her makeup and brushed her teeth, and climbed in next to him he is fast asleep with his face buried in a pillow that she refuses to admit still smells like Robin.  Pressing a quick kiss to his temple, she wraps one arm around him and tries to find some peace in the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

But not even the soft snuffling breaths of her baby boy can erase the pain of loss she feels.  She doesn’t sleep all night.

***

She doesn’t go into work on Monday.  She’s exhausted, has a splitting headache, and she just can’t face the outside world, this cursed world she created that might just be falling apart.  Can’t face the possibility of seeing him. She keeps Henry home as an excuse to call out. Tells her assistant that he’s sick, calls the school and says he has a bit of a fever – an automatic quarantine.

She tells Henry that they’re having a special mommy/son day.  Lets him stay in his pajamas and makes him chocolate chip pancakes.  Plays Chutes and Ladders and Candy Land and cuddles with him under his blanket to watch Sesame Street.  She revels in the love of her little prince and successfully pretends, if only for a little while, that her heart isn’t broken.

She considers keeping him home Tuesday as well; it’s not as though anyone at the school or her office would really notice.  But Henry notices.  And he wants to go back to school.  Doesn’t want to miss Music Day. Doesn’t want to miss the chance of sitting next to Robin in a little circle on the floor, Roland opposite, and singing all those ridiculous songs that she doesn’t find quite as annoying when it’s her sweet boy singing them.  All her boys. Except only one of them is still hers. But he will always be hers, she vows. Whatever Robin decides, whatever happens to this town and her curse, Henry will always be hers.

So she takes him to school, but drops him off late enough that she knows Robin is already inside. Already in the classroom, tuning his guitar and engaging with the children in that easy way he has.  She has not heard from him since he stormed out Sunday night.  She hasn’t heard from anyone, and she hopes that means he hasn’t gone looking for others to rally against the Evil Queen.

Your majesty. The venom in his voice still eats away at her. Part of her, the part that loves him enough to wake him from the effects of the curse because she could no longer stomach the lies, thinks she should go to him and try once more to explain.  The other more practical part knows that she cannot risk antagonizing him. That if he is still deciding whether or not he should set himself against her, seeing her would just remind him of everything she’s done.  So she watches Henry make his way inside and heads to work.  She is wary when she enters; convinced that Robin’s awakening will signal the end of the curse. Or worse, that he will have begun telling others what he knows.  But it appears neither is true as everything is the same as it’s been for the last two decades, and no one even remembers yesterday’s absence.  It is business as usual in their unendingly mundane lives.

Not for the first time, she wonders if the rest of the town got the better end of the curse.

***

They are standing outside the school on Friday.  Robin and Roland, with their matching jackets and matching dimples.  Robin is kneeling down talking with Roland but he looks up when he hears Henry’s excited shout of his name.  He just manages to brace himself before her son runs full tilt into his legs and hugs him tightly.  And for a moment, Regina thinks he looks…startled.  Startled and confused.  He looks up, searching, and his eyes fall upon her and for the longest moment she cannot move.  Cannot even breathe. Because the look he gives her is searching, and still a bit perplexed, but not filled with anger. Not brimming with hatred.  In fact, after a moment, his expression clears and then…he smiles.  A small smile, but a sincere one.  And then he looks down at Henry and wraps an arm around the boy.  She hesitates, unable to move closer and risk shattering what has to be a dream because he hates her now.  He would never smile at her, never offer a little wave and nod his head towards her son in a silent offer to walk him the rest of the way inside. And yet he is and he did and she has apparently nodded in return because he says something to Henry who turns around and waves a cheerful goodbye before grabbing Robin’s hand and turning towards the school.  Robin raises his own hand in farewell before reaching out for Roland, turning his back on her and escorting their boys to class.

She stands rooted in place for another minute, until she is bumped from behind by a harried parent trying to get his own child inside on time.  Startled back into awareness, she walks to her office as fast as she can in her pencil skirt and heels, determined to avoid another encounter with Robin until she can figure out what the bloody hell the last one meant.

She thinks about it all day but still can’t figure it out.  That little smile.  And even though hope has never been her friend, she can’t help but reach out and cradle it close.  Because even knowing the truth, Robin can still smile at her.  Can still hold her son’s hand.  And maybe, maybe he can even still love her.

He’ll want to break the curse. She has no doubt about that.  As Robin Bower or Robin Hood, he has a strong sense of justice and will not tolerate the people of the Enchanted Forest living forever frozen.  And for the first time, she thinks…she might be able to find a way to be okay with that.  If she could still have the love of her son and Robin and Roland, she thinks she can handle it.  She thinks she can handle anything.  Even the end to Snow White’s suffering. Even the end to her own.

But she can’t push. One smile doesn’t mean he’s forgiven her.  Doesn’t mean he’s not still angry.  So she determines that she will continue to give him his space.  Wait for him to come to her.  Which means breaking the news to a disappointed Henry that there will be no Friday Movie Night this week.  She tries to cheer him up with promises that they’ll still make their own pizza and watch The Fox and the Hound, but he refuses to watch his favorite movie without his own “very best friend.” So instead they agree on the Wizard of Oz, even though the movie sets Regina’s teeth on edge (Mother had told her of Oz, horrible stories of evil wizards and monsters and all sorts of horrors – had threatened to send her there on more than one occasion.) But Henry loves it, and she wants him to be happy, so she will grin and bear it and pretend the munchkins’ voices don’t grate on her last nerve.

Cheered by the prospect of a trip down the Yellow Brick Road, Henry is gleefully helping her create an assembly line of pizza ingredients when the doorbell rings.

Henry immediately bolts from the room, so certain that it’s Robin and Roland at the door that he forgets the rules about asking who’s there and only adults opening the door.  He has already turned the lock and has just managed to turn the knob when she gets there and finds, to her complete amazement, that it is Robin and Roland at the door.

“R’gina!” Roland lunges forward and Regina reaches out instinctively to brace him.  There is an awkward moment where she tries to lean him back into his father at the same time Robin attempts to hand Roland to her. She is stunned that he is willing to let her hold his son, but cannot pass up the opportunity to cuddle the precious little boy to her.  She had forbidden herself all week to think about Roland for more than a moment at a time, the pain of losing him just as sharp as losing his father in its own way. He is not her son, but he might have been. Might still be.

Because he is here now, his arms wrapped around her neck and his head resting on her shoulder, with his father seemingly content to let him stay that way.  

Henry meanwhile, has flung his arms around Robin’s leg and is clinging tightly.

“You’re here!” Robin takes a moment to crouch down and wrap his arm around her son.

“Of course we’re here. It’s Friday, where else would we be?” he asks, giving Henry a little squeeze. Henry tightens his grip and scowls.

“Mama said you weren’t coming.” Robin looks up at her, and that perplexed look from this morning is back. She doesn’t understand it; surely he can’t be surprised that she wasn’t expecting him after everything that happened the past week.  

“Really?” But he clearly is surprised, frowning at her for a second before turning his gaze to their sons. “Well that was silly of her, wasn’t it boys?”

“Uh huh!” Henry and Roland respond in unison, Roland’s head bobbing firmly for emphasis.  She absently runs her fingers through his curls as her mind races, trying to figure out what is happening.  Why Robin is acting as though Sunday night never happened. As though she never-

Regina’s breath catches in her throat.

As though she never told him about the curse.

No.  No no no.  It can’t be. Her heart races and she still can’t breathe and she needs to be alone.  Needs a moment of quiet to find an alternate explanation for Robin’s behavior. One that doesn’t involve undoing what needed to be done.

Not wanting to upset the boys, she somehow manages to feign normality long enough to convince Robin that he should take them to wash their hands while she finishes prepping for the pizzas.  She barely waits for him to agree before rushing out of the room.

Standing in the kitchen, she braces her arms against the counter and forces herself to calm down. Takes deep breaths, in and out, in and out, and lets her mind go blank.  She will figure everything out, but not until her heart stops feeling like it’s going to burst out of her chest.

She is just starting to feel normal again when two warm rough hands fall on her shoulders.  She flinches instinctively and Robin apologizes as he quickly removes them.  It’s been a long time since he has forgotten how much she dislikes being touched without warning.  But she fears that is the least of what he has forgotten since Sunday.

“Regina. Love, what’s the matter?” The concern in his voice adds to her growing certainty.  He would not be so kind and understanding if he remembered who she really was.  Still, she has to be sure.

“Do you….do you remember our date last Sunday?”  She turns to face him and steels herself for his response.

“Last Sunday?” He frowns, his eyes growing hazy.  She watches as he struggles for a moment to remember and she knows she’s right when suddenly his expression clears but his eyes remain covered in that haze. The haze of the curse.

“Of course I remember. Roland was sick so we had dinner in. I left early when the sitter called to tell me the fever spiked.” His voice sounds so sure, so confident.  He has no idea the Sunday he’s remembering was months ago.  Of course he doesn’t.  The curse doesn’t want him to remember that clearly.  

The curse doesn’t want to let him go.

She should have known this would happen.  Should have realized that the curse would protect itself against tampering.

Should have understood that her victory was always meant to be hollow, and her punishment endless. Because it is punishment – the unending sameness, the loneliness of being the only one aware and awake.  And now the guilt.  The guilt that in her quest to achieve justice against Snow White and her allies, she has hurt the man she loved and his beautiful son. Even if neither is aware of the hurt.

She could try again. Push him to remember just like she did just five short days ago.  But there’s no guarantee it would work this time, either.  The curse caused him to forget so quickly; she would have to try to continually push him to remember. Which would be difficult when the first thing he did upon regaining his real memories was to get as far away from her as he could.

No, she’s certain that it wouldn’t work the next time.  And probably not the time after, or the time after that.  She’d have to keep trying, over and over, with no guarantee of success. No guarantee of anything except the pain she would relive over and over as he rejected her.  As he stared at her with such anger and disdain.

And maybe that's some form of justice.  For cursing him. For loving him.  But even if she deserves that pain, her son doesn’t.  The curse doesn’t have as fierce a grip on Henry as it does on the rest of the town.  He would notice something was off.  He would feel Robin’s absence in his life.  It would hurt him.

She can’t let it hurt him. She has to protect him from this. If she does nothing else right in her life, she will be a good mother to her son. Whatever the cost.

She has been silent too long and Robin’s worry is written all over his face as he asks her again what’s wrong.  

What’s wrong is that you don’t remember.  And if the curse doesn’t break, you never will.  Roland will never grow up, but Henry will. They will grow apart and you’ll never notice.  Nothing will change

What’s wrong is that if the curse breaks you will remember.  And you’ll hate me.  You’ll take Roland from me.  Maybe Henry, too.  I’ll lose you all and they’ll come after me and I’ll let them because I’d rather be dead than be alone again.

What’s wrong is I cast a curse to hurt everyone else and yet I’m somehow the one who hurts most of all.

He says her name again and she forces herself to respond.

“Nothing.  Nothing’s wrong.  Everything’s fine,” she says.  When he just continues to look skeptically at her, she throws him a bone. “I’m just tired.  It was a long day.”

He reaches out and she lets him pull her into his arms.  “Do you want us to go?” he offers as he rubs his hands soothingly up and down her spine. “I can take Henry back to my place for a sleepover, let you have some peace and quiet.”

He barely gets the words out before she tells him no. “I want you here.” She hesitates. “I…I want us together.”

“Then together we shall be.” He presses a kiss against the side of her head.  “For as long as you’ll have us.”

She chokes back something between a laugh and a sob. His arms tighten around her and the distress in his Regina, love please causes her resolve to weaken.  Maybe she should try again.  He’ll be angry (so angry) but maybe eventually he will forgive her and then-

And then the boys run into the room.  Roland burrows his way between them to show Regina his clean hands while Henry tugs on Robin’s pants and tells him that they picked up all the toys.  He lifts up his arms in a silent plea to be held and Robin scoops him up without hesitation.  Not to be outdone, Roland pleads in that sweet little voice for Regina to do the same.  She is as helpless to their boys as Robin and soon Roland is back in her arms, his little hands patting her shoulders as he excitedly tells her everything he’s going to put on his “humongous” pizza.  She can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.  She looks at Robin and Henry and makes certain to keep the smile on her face as she takes in the way Henry rests his head so comfortably on Robin’s shoulder.  They are beautiful together, the two of them.  The four of them.

No, she will not try again. She will hold onto this little family that they’ve made for as long as she can.  She will do what she can to shield them from the curse and pay the price when her happiness is inevitably ripped from her like it always is.

But for now, she will help their precious boys make pizza.  She will let their happiness and Robin’s affection soothe her soul.  She will smile and laugh and ease Robin’s concern enough that when she tells him everything else can wait until morning, he will believe her.  All she has to do is make it through this night.

Because in the morning, it will all be forgotten.

~

#annie writes #ouat #outlaw queen #hood mills family #angsty #because my brain likes to read the fluff #but not write it