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scarlettscribbles · 3 years

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she used to be mine

- Anthony Bridgerton & TwinSister!Reader

Tags: 4k words - 3rd person POV, sibling fluff, family fluff, Anthony/Siena (not the main focus), Anthony is a soft boi when it comes to you (the softest, in fact), mourning

Warning/s: a bit spicy at the beginning, mild injury, mention of blood, major character death

Summary: A question from Siena about love sends Anthony into the past; making him recall his memories of a sister long loved, but never forgotten. A story told in moments.

a/n: don’t mind me, just manifesting my angst and bridgerton needs >> titles from waitress the musical

i. it’s not simple to say

“What do you think about love?”

“Love? What’s this all of a sudden?” Anthony laughed. He captured between his hands Siena’s own and kissed it playfully, making her giggle. “What do I think about it, well. I love kissing you, touching you-” he planted a soft kiss on her collarbone as his hands trailed down her abdomen. “I love--”

“Okay, no stop. That is not what I meant at all!” Siena stilled his wandering hands, laughing. She snuggled closer until they were chest to chest. “Love with your friends, family,...women.” she waggled her brows at the last word.

“Women, hah.” Anthony cast his eyes upward. “The only women I’ve ever loved are my mother and five sisters.”

“You mean four.”

“What?”

“You have four sisters: Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, and Hyacinth if memory serves correctly. Unless your mother’s pregnant, which I believe is unlikely. My lord, did you perhaps miscount?” Siena teased.

“No, no.” he waved his hand, chuckling. “She…”

ii. i still remember that girl

She was born 9 minutes before him; the eldest Bridgerton. This was a fact she liked lording over him teasingly. She won many arguments by simply stating “I am the eldest Bridgerton and therefore…”

Sometimes he could still hear her say it in his head.

“Remind me why I’m accompanying you again?”

“Because I am your older sister and--”

“I should always agree to what you’re saying, blah blah. Oh this is so crowded! Why could you not just send a maid to fetch the book?”

“Well what’s the fun in that? Come on Tony, you’re being too slow! It will be nighttime when we arrive there and the book I wanted will be gone!” she moaned miserably, turning around and tugging on his hand to encourage him to make haste.

“You and your dramatics. Why is this book so important anyway?”

“It simply is. I need it for when I become the Viscountess.” she smiled at him, chin jutting out proudly. “I can’t wait to get Papa’s watch. I will get it right, as Viscountess? He will pass it onto me along with the title.”

“Uh no he won’t. I am the heir in case you have forgotten, sister.”

“But I am the oldest. We might be both 10 but I am 9 minutes older than you.” she argued, waving her pointer finger at him.

“Yes, yes you’ve said that like a million times now! But you’re a girl, so you can’t. You shall marry some guy, not that there are any worth marrying. Why just the today I saw the son of that family I cannot remember for the life of me, doing something horrendous! I think it would be better for you to stay away from any and all men.” Anthony paused, realizing that he was - or is soon going to be - one of those men. “Except for me and Papa, of course.”

She merely looked at him in amusement. “Pish posh.” his twin huffed, eyes glinting in the sunlight. “I’m not going to exchange my ambitions for some mere man. You shall see Tony, I will have that watch. Now come on!” she dropped his hand and gathered her skirts, ducking and maneuvering between the throng of people. Anthony felt a tinge of panic, seeing his sister slowly becoming engulfed by the crowd.

“Sister wait!” he started to chase after her. He saw the blue tail-end of her skirt when someone bumped into him. He whirled around to complain to whoever it was; however, he seemed to have miscalculated the strength of his spin and tripped, landing on his bottom. “Ow, hey watch it!” he shouted at the people who accidentally kicked him, not noticing his figure on the ground.

Anthony hissed as he dusted his pants. He examined the palm of his hand and noticed scratches from when he landed too roughly on the floor. There were spots of red slowly making its way down his hand, along with drops of water.

Oh. He was crying.

“Where are you?” his voice warbled. “Sister…”

Has she left him, truly? Surely not. His twin is many things but never cruel. She was tenacious, smart, and…

“Tony! I let you out of my sight for a second and - goodness!” She ran over and knelt in front of him, glaring at the people who would come too close. They parted for her, giving them a wide berth. “Here, take my handkerchief. We should get home and wash your hands. We don’t want it to be infected. And your clothes are a mess, Mama is going to have a fit. Come now,”

“But your book?” he sniffed.

“Eh, I can get it some other time.” she smiled and patted his cheeks. “Don’t cry now, sister’s got you.”

...kind. She was kind.

iii. reckless just enough

Anthony was sulking. Not that he’d let anyone know. Papa had gotten angry with him. It wasn’t even a big thing. He simply...borrowed his watch to look at it. Anthony thought maybe he could figure out what made his twin so interested in it. It was a plain thing, nothing special maybe besides the monogram. He didn’t mean to drop it from the stairs. He really didn’t. He heard his name being called for lunch and he jolted.

He got a dressing down from Papa with his siblings present; Benedict and Colin in particular snickering at his plight. It was embarrassing. As soon as Papa dismissed him, he ran for his room, ignoring the calls of his twin.

Right now he was hidden beneath the curtains and behind his bookshelf. Did Papa really have to scold him at the lunch table? Anthony buried his face between his hands.

“You didn’t eat.”

Anthony banged his head on the wall when he looked up too fast.

“Are you okay?” his twin asked him, smiling amusedly. She carried with her a plate with bread, cheese, ham and a slice of blueberry pie.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Laughing and smiling are worlds apart, Tony.” she shook her head and sat beside him, nudging him insistently until they were shoulder to shoulder. She slid the plate from her lap to his. “Eat.”

Anthony looked at her blankly. “Are you so distraught that you cannot eat? Do you want me to hand feed you like a child?” She made a motion as if she was going to grab the plate but Anthony shooed her hands away.

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you.” he stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth. “How’d you find me anyway?”

“Please swallow before you talk.” she said. “And, this is your room Tony. I’m simply using common sense.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Anthony picked up the ham and cheese and continued eating. For a moment, they just sat there in comfortable silence.

“It’s unfair.” Anthony said, breaking the silence.

“What is?”

“Papa.”

“How come?”

“He was way too angry. I didn’t mean to drop his watch! And it wasn’t even broken. If it was, he could’ve repaired it easily.” he pouted.

“You could’ve also just asked him to look at it. You know, in his room. Where you can’t drop it from a height and possibly damage it.” she replied with a bit of sarcasm.

“Fine, yes, I could have.” he conceded. “I just don’t know why he was so angry.”

“It’s important to him.”

“It’s just a watch.” Anthony rebutted, pouting. His twin gave him a look that he knew meant “you look adorable but also stupid.”

“Nah.”

“No?”

“Nope.” she answered. “For one, it’s an heirloom. Heirloom is defined as -”

“I know what it means.” Anthony waved his hand. “Do go on.”

She gave him a faintly annoyed look which merely made him smirk. “I shall, and not because you told me to.” she cleared her throat. “The watch being an heirloom is just its value as a thing. There’s also the sentimental value. The memories and emotions attached to the watch. For Papa, he treasures it because it - probably - reminds him of grandfather and grandmother. Grandfather especially. Because he was the one to give the Papa the rights and responsibility for our family.”

“Is that why?”

“Why what?”

“I wanted to know what makes it so special for you.” Anthony shrugged. “You always talk about it, about getting the watch when we become older. I didn’t see the big deal. Is that why it’s so important to you too?”

“Yes, quite.” she answered. “I want to take care of our family, Tony. I know I can, I just do. I don’t want me to just be a wife. I’m meant for greater things. Also,” she grinned at him. “I want it so I could count down the seconds until I see you again.”

Anthony fake gagged, pretending to chuck the bread and cheese onto his twins’ lap. His twin scrambled away far from him and yelped. “You are disgusting! Mama! Anthony ruined the new dress that we just got!”

“I did not!”

“You were about to!”

iv. i was never attention’s sweet center

It was just a stupid, off-hand comment from Benedict. Anthony knew his brother meant no harm but still, the comment hurt.

“Maybe she truly should have your title, brother.”

Anthony was no stranger to her loud and obvious wanting to inherit the head of the house. In fact, he supported his twin. If Papa permitted it, he would gladly concede to you. However, it was unspoken between the twins the knowledge that Papa would never agree to such a thing; no matter how much he loved his eldest daughter.

Anthony was no stranger to her excellence either. While the both of them worked hard to set an example for their younger siblings. He always thought she was great at everything a girl should be and more. Though the ‘more’ part would never reach the ears of their mother or anybody else. Nobody should know that Anthony taught her how to sucker punch anybody that vexed her except maybe Benedict and Colin...also Eloise. That girl was far too curious and also far too attached to Benedict. Anthony thinks in the privacy of his mind that if she were a boy, there would be no quarrel that she’d get the title.

Other people also thought the same. Though they expressed it in a much less pleasant way, in words Anthony does not care for. They speak condescendingly. They speak of her gender with pity in their voices, their admiration twisted. They mention that her excellence should be toned down, that she should focus instead on things better suited to her. They speak of how inadequate Anthony is, how poor that a boy be overshadowed by a girl. They theorize how Anthony must hate her for taking all the spotlight. He hears all this, and she does too, seeing as they’re almost always attached at the hip. If it bothers her, she does not speak of it.

They speak of lies. Anthony thinks that her abilities suit her as they are and that no matter how bright she shines, it would never be something to be upset over. He basked in her light. They are wrong for thinking that she’s taking a piece of his life away when in truth, she completes it. Best friends, twins, soulmates; he loves her and she loves him. Still, their words leave a mark.

So when Benedict said that albeit in a teasing manner, Anthony just ran away. As he got older, he found it the preferable way to escape his problems. If he could not run to her then he must run away.

Anthony hugged himself as a strong breeze blew and made the unoccupied swing beside him rock.

“Tony.” And there she was. His twin was holding a book. She sat at the swing beside him.

There was silence. The only thing he could hear were the wind, the scuffling of his feet, and the soft sound of her flipping the pages.

“Sister,” she did not look up from the book but she hummed, signifying that he was heard. “Why did you come out here? It’s better to read inside, surely.”

“You’re upset. Of course I would come.” she said matter-of-factly.

“Did Ben tattle?”

“Ben? Tattle? His mouth is tighter than a woman’s corset when it comes to secrets.” she laughed lightly. “Surely you know better than that.”

“Yeah, I do.” he smiled. Since they were little, even if they were distances apart, both of them would always know - or at least had an inkling of - what the other was feeling. During their early years they chalked it up to magic but now they both just conceded it as a twin thing. “Actually, I don’t. Know better, I mean. Everybody seems to think so. Am I inadequate, sister? Dumb perhaps? I feel like I cannot do anything right sometimes! Compared to you I - “

His twin laid a hand on his shoulder. “Tony.” her brows were drawn and her lips pursed. “First of all, there is no comparison brother. I am me and you are your wonderful self. We are both excellent, please do not doubt yourself of that no matter what anyone says. And I know they say a lot. I’m just so used to tuning them out that I never considered that you might not do the same. I’m sorry.”

She stood up and drew him into a hug. Anthony’s arms stayed limp at his side. “People will flap their mouths because that’s what they do; say their opinions even though it’s unwelcome. If we tried to stop every single one of them, why I believe it’ll take all our lifetime and more!” she chuckled. “We cannot change them so we must change how much we’ll let their words affect us. Their words don’t matter at all! If I could, then I would shove those words back up their mouth and let them swallow it. Which I don’t know how to do. D’you suppose punching them would work just as well?” Anthony laughed wetly at her quip. It would work but it would also involve somebody calling Mama and Papa for her ‘inappropriate behavior’.

“What I know is this.” she grasped his shoulders and held them so she could stare at him in the eyes. Anthony met her determined gaze head-on. “You’re good enough Tony. Hell, you’re excellent.”

Anthony sobbed and quickly drew her into a fierce hug, his tears surely wetting her dress but he knew she didn't mind. “That is as sure as the sun that rises in the east. As sure as our family’s love, and ours for each other.”

v. bring back the fire in her eyes

It started with a cold. She had stayed up too long outside and now she’s bed-ridden. Anthony crossed his arms at the corner of the room as his younger siblings ran around. In his opinion there was too much ruckus for her to properly rest. However, Mama brought it up earlier and his twin just waved her concern away, stating that some liveliness will do her good. And who was Anthony to go against the wishes of his dear sister? It doesn’t mean that he has to like it though.

“No you’re the troll!” Eloise insisted.

“I was the troll last round!” Colin argued back.

“Now, now,” Benedict placated them both, then he glanced at Anthony in a way that promised mischief. “Why don’t we let Anthony be the troll then? He certainly looks the part with how grouchy he is.”

Daphne giggled. “And how he’s guarding his corner.”

“And how horrendous his face looks!” added Eloise.

Now he’s had enough. “You all look far too happy for someone who’s going to be troll food soon.”

“Troll wuh - AAH!” Eloise screamed as Anthony lunged at her. She took off with a sprint and soon the other Bridgertons followed as well, laughing boisterously. “Noo, Ben save me!”

“This is survival of the fittest -”

“Survival of the fittest your face!”

“Ehem.” Suddenly all motion stopped. Colin face-planted on the floor, caught by his momentum. All eyes went to the door where Violet Bridgerton stood along with a maid. She had a smile on her face coupled with a vaguely exasperated expression. “I’m glad you’re having fun but please take you playing outside. I need to tend to your sick sister.”

Various moans and complaints filled the room but only with a raise of their Mama’s brow, they filed outside the room, murmuring farewells and well wishes to the sole occupant of the bed. All except one. Anthony remained rooted at the side of his sister’s bed.

“Anthony, please.” Violet gently said. A complaint was on the tip of his tongue when a hand laid on his bicep. He looked at his sister, looking frail among the covers but she merely smiled and shook her head.

“I’ll be fine Tony.” she said. “Go and check that our siblings haven’t set the house ablaze or anything.”

For a moment, both of them just stared at each other. A silent conversation passing between them both. Anthony sighed. “Get well.” he bent over to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not sure I alone will be enough to stop them from doing that.”

She laughed. “You will be.”

vi. sometimes life just slips

It was only supposed to be a cold. A cold.

Someone almost barreled through Anthony as he, Benedict, Colin came through the door. “Whoa!” he exclaimed as the maid said a rushed apology. Everyone in the house seemed to be in a mad dash. He exchanged looks with his brothers, who were as clueless as he.

“Anthony!” came the panicked voice of Eloise. He held her shoulders and looked over her for any harm of some sort that caused her to panic.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Anthony was surprised to see her looking up at him with teary eyes. Eloise is looking at him like how she used to when she was much littler, pleading to Anthony. Believing with all her might that her older brother will make everything okay. He looked behind her to Daphne who was pursing her lips.

“Oh God, is someone dead?” Colin quipped, then promptly made a punched-out noise as Benedict elbowed him.

“Sister, she - “

“She’s dead?!” Colin cried.

“No!” Daphne growled, irritated. “She’s just...in pain. Mama and Papa sent for doctors.”

“Goodness, how serious is this cold? - Anthony, wait!”

Anthony didn’t hear Benedict’s call. How could he over the thumping of his racing heartbeat? He ran upstairs like the devil was on his tail, and even then he felt like he was too slow. He paused at her door, psyching himself to open it. If he went in, what would he see? He raised his trembling hands, the complaints of his siblings nothing but a faint echo.

The doors burst open and out came two elderly men and one woman. The siblings crowded around them. Anthony could only hear snippets as he zeroed in on you. Mama was kneeling beside his twin’s bed, holding her daughter’s hand tight to her chest.

“The young miss will be fine -”

“We expect her fever to break -”

“Dear.” Anthony jumped, startled. The woman accompanying the doctors addressed him. “Are you okay?”

“My - my twin sister, will she be alright?”

“Twin, huh. That’s why you’re so distraught. Well all of you are but you in particular,” she shook her head and smiled. “Your sister is strong. She will be fine. You can go in. I’m sure she’ll be glad for your company.”

She need not say it twice. Anthony ran into the room.

“Sister.”

“Tony.”

He felt like he could breathe again.

vii. rewrite an ending or two

“Are you sure you don’t want to get up here? We shared a bed when we were little. And when we grew, sometimes.” she paused, thinking about her statement. “Often.” his twin amended.

Anthony hummed when she stopped running her hands through his hair. “No.”

“The ground is cold, Tony. You might get sick.”

“How could I? You already took all the sick with you.” Anthony grumbled. “I’m fine, sister.”

“If you say so.”

“How about you?” Anthony asked.

“Hmm?” she smiled. Facing down and in the darkness, Anthony couldn’t have seen it but he felt it. “I believe I will be.”

viii. she is gone, but she used to be mine

It was a miserable day in spring when the eldest Bridgerton was buried.

ix. most days i don’t recognize me

“She…” Anthony clenched his jaw.

“Are you ever going to finish that sentence?” Siena asked, smiling until she noticed how tense he was. She reached out to touch his arm, inquiring, “My lord, are you alright?”

Anthony sniffed and quickly stood up, hastily picking up his clothes. “Yes, fine.” he answered, hopping on one foot to put his shoes on. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Siena asked. Anthony barely spared a glance at her, pausing shortly halfway out the door. He checked his watch, eyes glazing over for a moment.

“I need - I’m needed. At home.” With that, he briskly walked outside and into his carriage. It was today. He must’ve forgotten. How could he have forgotten? But he also ‘forgot’ the other years. The grief consumed him on this particular day. It was always a sore reminder that he was missing his other half. So instead of going to her grave, he went drinking. Instead of spending the day with her in his mind, he spent it with his cock inside somebody. Anthony spent so much time forgetting but now it’s as if her ghost had come to haunt him. Every memory had come rushing back, especially the day she died.

He remembered the night before. The doctors had told them she would be better. She told him she would be better. But he needed to stay close to her. Anthony fell asleep with her hand in his hair. Then he woke up to her eyes open but her breath was gone. He had never screamed so loud in his life.

Anthony remembered their parents barging into the room, Mama taking a step back looking as if she was seconds away from fainting. Then she saw her son on the floor and immediately enveloped him in her arms. He woke up in a bed sometime during the night. He woke up convinced it was all a dream but that promptly shattered when all his siblings (all except one) filed into the room in their sleepwear. Their eyes were swollen and wet. And it stayed that way until her funeral, and even some more after that.

The carriage stopped. Anthony got out and stopped at the gate. He knew Mama held some kind of family gathering during this day. What they did in the gathering, he had no idea. He never stayed long enough to attend. But today was different, somehow.

He padded softly into the drawing room. A quick glance noted him of all his siblings’ presence. Francesca was playing a familiar tune. Colin was singing in a low tone. Benedict, Eloise, and Daphne were all sitting on one couch, leaning against each other. The youngest ones sat on the floor, trying to follow the lyrics Colin sang. Mama was sewing. The melancholy vibe was replaced with a startled one. Francesca stopped playing and Colin stopped singing. Mama dropped what she was holding and walked towards him, arms open.

Anthony crumbled. “Mama -”

x. for the girl that i knew

“Mama what do you think about love?” It was indeed a bleak day in spring. Everybody had left after the service but Anthony chose to stay, lingering.

“Anthony I -” Violet began.

“Why does it hurt so much?” he whirled around, uncaring as tears and snot fell messily down his tired face. “I feel as if someone carved an unfillable hole inside me. Like every breath I take is not right. Half of me is buried six feet underground, mama. How can I bear it?”

Anthony curled into himself as Mama enveloped him into her arms. “One day at a time, dearest. You have us still.” she whispered. “One day at a time.”

[fin.]

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

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Get Hurt {Dean Winchester x Reader}

Requested by: @fandomofyourchoice-89 Wordcount: 3973 Summary: Arguing with Dean is never fun. Getting into an accident after you leave said argument is even worse. But such things can have a silver lining. Notes: Some swearing.

You might have offered a lot of things to Dean Winchester, but your freedom was not one of those things. A bit of flesh here, a bit of blood there was one thing, but letting him dictate who you am allowed to talk to - and when? That was asking too much of you. When you woke up to a good morning text from the bartender you were chatting with the night before, you had been feeling pretty on top of the world. It was nice to have a little bit of positive attention, even if it wasn’t exactly from the person you were hoping to have it from. Dean may know monsters, but he couldn’t pick up on your feelings, even from a foot away. He snatched the phone out of your hand to see who the text was from, joking that it was probably from your mom, but when he saw the unfamiliar number, he went from teasing to overprotective. That was not the Dean that you liked to see. He was treating you like you were his car, when someone else was trying to get in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you of all people!” You said, wrinkling your nose as you pulled on your sweater for the day. The weather outside wasn’t at the point of frightful, but it was still chilly for the early fall. It helped you to feel less exposed to Dean’s eyes as well, which was good with how sharp they were being today.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean shot back. You looked over at Sam, hoping for some sort of aid, but there was nothing there. The tall moose of a man just disappeared into the small bathroom, closing the door behind him. On one hand, that was a smart move. Your fights with Dean were known to be explosive, though they didn’t happen very often. It was usually just sarcastic comments. But no amount of sass was enough to express your anger today. You were not in the mood to deal with this shit. Not today, and not ever. On the other, it was annoying. You could really use the back up.

“It means that you don’t get to lecture me about a single text message, when you’re the one who always goes home with the bartenders, the single moms, who even knows anymore. Any woman gives you a pretty smile and you swoon off into the sunset, leaving Sam and I behind. And you’re giving me hell over a single text? Really?”

“I don’t sleep with every girl, and it shouldn’t matter! I work hard, I deserve to have a little fun.”

“The fact that you don’t think I work hard enough to exchange numbers with one guy is insulting, Winchester. Downright insulting. You threw your coat on over your sweater, given the weather - and you just wanted to have as much of your clothes on as possible. And there was good reason for that. “You know that vacation that I’ve been talking about taking? I’m leaving today. Right now, actually. Goodbye to your storm cloud, hello sunny California.”

“You don’t get to walk away like this,” Dean said, going to the door that lead to the outside world, and folded his arms. “We have a lot of work to do in this area, Bobby said-”

“Then you better get to it then, shouldn’t you? No time to waste. Not for Dean, the hard working man! And since I hardly do anything, according to you, I should leave. I wouldn’t want to be a hindrance to your greatness!”

In response to this, all that you got was silence. You threw your bag over your shoulder, and put your helmet under your arm, ready to leave. Your bike was calling you, and you were looking forward to the dust blowing under your tires back out on the open road. The problem was that Dean still wasn’t moving.

“Get out of my way, Winchester,” You said, reverting to last names. That tended to be how you reacted when angry at him.

“No,” He said, his biceps flexing beneath the flannel shirt that was keeping him warm. “You know that we need you-”

“And I need away from you!” You shouted, exasperated. “Either you are going to move from that door, or so help me, I’m going to call the police on your credit card scams.”

It was one of the few threats that you had under your belt. Sure, he and Sam would get booked and it would take a couple of hours for Bobby to talk them out of it, but that was a couple of hours horribly wasted.

“Fine, leave, just walk away,” Dean’s deep voice seemed to go even deeper as he moved away from the door.

“Fuck you,” You said, giving him the finger as you walked out of the motel room. It felt good to leave that negativity behind. That overbearing feeling that made you feel as if Dean only saw you as a little sister, rather than as the capable woman that you knew you were. Actually, it was like he didn’t see you as a woman at all, which was hurtful. You’ve loved him so long and-

And you were going to leave that behind, just for a little while. You would come back eventually. The Winchester charm always got to you, the same way that it did for every other woman that Dean talked to. It was the shy, stoic nature behind those green eyes. The way that he quietly seemed to look into your soul, and never had a complaint about what was found.

Think of the palm trees that you were going to see. Think of the beaches, the waves rolling on the sand. Think of being able to lay out and feel the sun on your skin. You could order fruity alcohol drinks from hot waiters wearing only their bathing suits. Maybe you’ll even spot a Kardashian, which you could rub into Dean’s face. You could roll over and say, “Ha, Dean, I spotted her first!”

Except for the fact that Dean wouldn’t be there. It was just as much a break from him as it was a break from the hunt.

You got onto your bike, put the helmet atop your head, and backed away from the black impala as quickly as you could. You refused to look back. That would just be giving Dean satisfaction that you were having second thoughts.

You turned out of the motel and ended up on a long stretch of road that lead west. That was exactly the way that you wanted to go. There weren’t many people about, considering this wasn’t one of the big highways though that would be coming soon.

You slowed down as you saw a shadow dart out across the road, coming from one of the patches of trees. It startled you enough that you lost your balance on the bike, and it started to wobble beneath you. You braced yourself for the crash as the bike finally decided which side it was going to fall on, and you skidded off of the concrete onto the brush by the side of the road. All you can remember is trying to make sure the bike didn’t land too hard on your leg, for it could easily break it.

When you came to, you were hearing arguing. The familiar sound of Dean’s voice. “Leave Sammy alone,” You groaned, before opening your eyes. Instead of the expected scene of a motel room, you were surprised to see that you were in a hospital bed. And instead of Dean arguing with his brother, it was a small woman in scrubs that was giving Dean hell.

You remembered everything in that instant, and reached up to touch your head, expecting the worst case scenario. You were anticipating blood or bruises or waking up with a huge bulging eye like Quasimodo in the Disney film. Your chin was a bit tender, since that part hadn’t been entirely covered by the helmet, but the rest of your face felt fine. Dean was watching over you with those stern eyes of his, and suddenly you wished that you were ugly. Then he wouldn’t give you shit for leaving because you already suffered the consequences.

“Don’t start,” You said, looking at him before turning your attention to the Doctor. Or nurse, you couldn’t quite tell. “I definitely feel the effects of the painkillers so I don’t really know what’s wrong.”

The doctor went into professional mode, coming to your side and checking the IV bag that was giving you fluids. “I’m Dr. Williams, you’re in the Kansas Medical Center, and you’re going to be just fine, first and foremost. You did break two of your ribs, but neither ended up piercing any organs. You did fracture your femur and patella, though with some physiotherapy once the cast is off, you should be back to normal, unless you were running marathons.”

“Not quite,” You said, breathing out in relief. Though that did make you well aware of the odd feeling in your chest. Those pesky broken ribs, no doubt.

The doctor left the room after giving you another sweep, and an idea of how long you may have to be in the hospital for. Another night of observation, then she wanted to have you come in for physiotherapy. You said you would, though no doubt you would be back on the road before then, and doing your own exercises. This wasn’t the first time that you’ve broken a bone, though it was the first time it happened outside of a hunt. You figured you knew enough to take care of it on your own.

“What, because I left you had to argue with the Doctor too? Your temper knows no bounds, Winchester,” You said to Dean once Sam stepped out to get some coffee. Dean looked far from amused at that. “Did our insurance scam not go through?”

“This isn’t a joke,” Dean said, closing the door to your private room. That alone told you that the insurance went through. There’s no way that they would put you in a room like this unless they were getting the big bucks. American Medical Care at it’s finest. “You were an inch away from puncturing a lung. If the farmer didn’t see you wipe out-”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure that being friends with angels had a hand in that,” You leaned back against the pillow rather than attempted to sit up. Dean came to stand at the end of the bed, and clenched his fists around the bars at the end of it. “Look, I don’t know how they got a hold of you, or what you think you’re doing, but I’m still taking off to California. Just ... bring my bike to Bobby’s and I’ll fix it when I get back. I’ll just fly, or bus as soon as I can sit up properly.”

“The hell you are,” He raised his voice at you. He hadn’t straight up yelled at you like that in quite some time, even while he was angry. It was startling. “We are all sticking around here, and you are going to listen to the Doctor’s orders.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” You muttered. No Winchester was good at following orders, not even from a well-meaning Doctor. And because of how much time you’ve spent around them, you might as well have been one.

“Excuse me?” He asked, quick to hear your words.

“You’re not well known for following anyone’s orders, Winchester. You just like giving them out, even when completely unwarranted. Like right now,” You glared at him. “Did you just come here to tell me more about what I should and shouldn’t do? To gloat? Just tell me what you want from me, so that we can move on, honestly. This is getting old.”

“I want you to be safe!” He said, his hands tightening around the rails, the knuckles turning white. “I don’t want you off with some random guy, and I don’t want you alone in California and I don’t want you to crash your stupid damn bike on a country road!”

“Why do you think that I can’t take care of myself? We’ve been hunting together for years now!”

The look in his eye after I said this made me sink a little into myself. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And the hurt that he was feeling made me understand that he was leaving no bit of road unpaved.

“You ended up in the hospital because you ran away,” Dean said, leaning down low, hanging his head so that you could no longer see his expression. That didn’t mean that the pain was invisible, though. “And I’m the one that made you do that.”

“And if I died, you would blame yourself,” You sighed, catching his line of thinking. “But I’m okay. I’m always okay.” You would have gone to the other end of the bed and touched his hand if you could. You could feel the anger and the guilt radiating off of him, like black lines in an anime show. But the discomfort, and pain which was starting to come through despite the meds, was making you stay where you were. “Alright, I have an idea.”

He lifted his head slightly at that, his eyes wide and glistening like a Disney princess. The great Dean Winchester, crying?

“Buy me a burger, bring it back here and we’ll have a dinner and talk - actually talk, not yell at each other this time, okay?”

After you were released from the hospital, limping on a cast that was a huge hindrance, things began to change. You couldn’t tell if it was from guilt or because Dean actually wanted to take care of you. But you let him do whatever it was that he wanted to do, because it was the only way for him to cope with what had happened. You and Sam had talked about it late one night when Dean was out to get you your favorite burger, and both agreed that it was best to let this run it’s course, unless he got entirely overbearing again. It was bound to happen sooner or later though. He had already offered to carry you to Baby on more than one occasion rather than let you hobble.

“Dean,” You groaned for the second time that day, though you were definitely blushing more this time. It was a good thing that he couldn’t see through the bathroom door. He was just on the other side of it, so he could hear you, though. “I can bathe by myself. You’re just getting perverted now.”

“I just want to help,” He said, being able to hear that stupid damn smirk on his face. God, he was irresistible. Even you had to admit that it had been nice to have him pamper you. But now he was wanting to help you wash in the bath while your cast had to be raised up on the edge of the tub. It had been a little difficult to get in and out of lately.

You wrapped the robe tighter around your body. “If I agree...” You said, coyly, biting on your lip, fingers against the lock. “Do you promise that you won’t look.”

“Depends,” He said, and you saw the door physically move, like he was leaning against it. “Are there going to be bubbles to help cover you up?”

You looked behind you at the bathtub that was about half full. You had a small pile of bathbombs that you bought online to at least try to make the experience a little better. It took a lot longer to get in and out of the bath, so you might as well make it as pretty as possible. “There might be a few bubbles, but the water will be colored,” You admitted. It would hide some parts of your body pretty well. But others would be sticking out.

“I promise I’ll try my best,” was all that Dean had to offer.

“Okay just umm - just give me a second, alright?” You unlocked the door to the bathroom, then attempted to take a step backwards, but pushed a little too roughly on your casted foot. A sharp pain went through your leg and you cursed yourself for being so stupid.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, his ears catching onto that.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a minute, alright?” You called out. You took off the robe, and grabbed the towel instead. You wrapped it around your body in a way that it would be easy to take off once you were ready to sink down into the water. What you really needed help with was keeping your balance as you went down, since you had to keep one leg up. Even then, you had it wrapped in cellophane so it wasn’t as likely to get wet. You definitely regretted taking off the way that you did.

You put your good foot into the water, then crouched down, attempting to go on your own as far as you could, but you felt yourself wobbling. You had to put your casted leg on the ground outside of the tub again. You didn’t trust yourself not to fall. Holding the towel tightly against your chest, you finally said, “Okay, I need help. But don’t look, okay?”

The door slowly opened and Dean came inside, one hand covering his eyes and the other reaching out to try to grab a hold of something. He himself nearly tripped on the small carpet and you had to hold your hand out to steady him. You sighed, wondering if he was being this bad on purpose. “Alright, just hold my hand and help me get down, yeah?”

Dean could at least do this. As you got closer to the water, you slid your towel off with the hand that Dean wasn’t holding, and tossed it outside of the tub.

“What was that?” He questioned right away.

“My towel,” You admitted to him. “So keep your damn eyes closed.”

“Eyes closed. Scout’s honor.”

“As if you were a scout.”

You balanced your bad leg on top of the lip of the bathtub so it was jutting out. It was a bit awkward but once you were sitting in the tub, and leaned back, it was a lot better. You sighed contently, then realized that Dean was still holding onto your hand. You quickly snatched it out of his grip then closed the shower curtain on him so he couldn’t see anything anyway. “I’m all sorted, thanks.”

“No problem,” He said from the other side of the curtain. You waited for him to leave but you didn’t hear any footsteps, nor the bathroom door open and close. But what you did see was one side of the curtain moving slightly, as if it were being pulled ever so slowly.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” He chuckled, the curtain falling back into position. “I never ... really apologized for making you run away. And causing all of this.”

“You could never make me do anything. And you didn’t cause this. The stupid farmer who didn’t mind his chickens did,” You wrinkled your nose, thinking about how tempted you were to sue that guy. “Though I will accept your apology about being a jerk. And a bitch.”

“Hey,” He said. You heard the toilet cover flip down, and Dean had the audacity to sit on it. The nerve! Although ... it was actually really sweet that he was in here, making sure that you didn’t have to bathe alone. “I might have been being stubborn, but I had a point. That bartender was a jerk. He was giving his number to everyone with a pulse.”

“So what if he was? It’s not your job to tell me who I can and can’t see. And if I do end up getting hurt, then it’s on him, and it shouldn’t be me that you get mad at.”a

“I wasn’t mad at you,” He said, and you could hear him tensing. The water was moving in small ripples around your body, and it was the only thing causing sound. “I was mad at myself for not telling you sooner.”

“Telling me what?”

“That I care about you.”

This was getting to be a bit too much for you handle. You put your hands on either side of the tub, took in a deep breath, then lowered yourself into the purple-colored water. It smelled strongly of lavender with jasmine, and the scent had filled your nose just as you slipped under the water. You didn’t open your eyes, you just went under to cool the feeling of your cheeks burning. Even the warm water was cooler than that. When you rose yourself up, you saw to your dismay that Dean was peeking around the side of the curtain. But at least his eyes were on yours, rather than on any part of your body. And that everything you didn’t want him to see was covered by the colored water and the bubbles that came with it.

“What are you doing?” You said, moving your hands to cover yourself up further.

“You didn’t reply.”

“Did I have to? I would think that my actions over the last few months in particular spoke enough for me.”

Dean stepped back, the curtain moving into it’s usual position, but you still didn’t relax. “It’s really hard to have this conversation when you’re naked.”

“Shouldn’t have started it then,” You grumbled, but you couldn’t even find yourself getting mad. Dean cared about you. That was something that he didn’t say to many people. If he did express that - holy shit, were you ever in. Neither of you spoke for the next ten minutes. Instead, you just focused on yourself, washing your body and your hair. As far as you could tell, Dean didn’t peek again, but remained on his seat on the porcelain throne. “I’m going to need some help up, if that’s alright,” You said, once you’ve finished.

“Yeah,” He said. “Eyes are covered.”

You pulled the plug on the bath, and watched as Dean’s strong arm came through the curtain, holding his hand down low to grasp yours. You took it, and slowly, with the help of his sturdiness, got back onto your good foot, the other still being supported by the side of the bathtub. “Do you think you could...” You were about to ask him for your towel but he took his hand away from you before you could finish your sentence. Instead of getting handed a towel, the curtain opened and revealed Dean holding open your robe. He no longer had his hand over his eyes like a child, but he was facing the opposite way, eyes closed. You smiled, thinking about how sweet he was being.

And hoping it would last after you healed up properly.

#Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester oneshot #Supernatural #Supernatural oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #deanw

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warmau · 4 years

Text

☆ cheerleader!yukhei ~ happy (late) birthday! | other yukhei aus

the only person nervous in the quiet, empty expanse of the gym

is co-captain xiaojun, whose eyes dart between you and the gleaming, oblivious, almost doe-like stare of wong yukhei

in all his over six-foot glory and positive attitude, xiaojun just hopes he’s ready for the storm you are about to unleash

you’ve been captain of the cheerleading team at your university for only a semester. the other captain had graduated and had picked you to succeed them ,,,,,, which at first seemed only natural

no one had more love and more knowledge about the sport than you

but,,,,,,,,,,good god were your expectations HIGH

in the last couple of months, you’d kicked maybe four people off the team, almost got into a verbal argument with an opposing team captain that got the whole squad booted from a tournament, and in general

you were not happy about slackers

even if they weren’t slacking - just not displaying the amount of skill you wanted

so when you’d opened up tryouts, xiaojun knew it was going to be tough

he had watched people come through the gym with ribbons and pompoms and hulahula hoops

some people danced to show off flexibility and others did tricks they learned from when they took gymnastics

but you had said no. to. everyone.

and something told him, yukhei - even though he had the strength and looks, wasn’t going to be any different

“yukhei, right?”

his brown eyes twinkle against the sunbeams that make their way down through the rooftop windows

“yep! how’d i do? i know i only lifted about fiftyish but i can show you-”

“that won’t be necessary. you can go.”

yukhei’s eyebrow twitches, not in anger, but in genuine confusion

“d-did i pass?”

your eyes are now on the clipboard in front of you - skimming the next application for the person after yukhei

“no. please take your things on the way out.”

“b-but why not? im strong, tall, and athletic - that’s what the application asked for!”

xiaojun swallows when he sees the way your lips thin into a line

the clipboard clatters onto your seat as you get up and approach yukhei

you have eyes that xiaojun akin’s to those of a hunter and most people cower from direct contact

but yukhei’s eyelashes flutter a little as you inch closer and closer

“well, if you demand an explanation for why im rejecting you, then you can have one. first of all - you have absolutely NO form.”

you clap a hand onto his shoulder and straighten it

“you might be proud of your face and body, but it doesn’t express well through your movements. you slump your shoulders and you make a face before you lift anything!”

yukhei looks like he wants to interject, but you cut him off

“cheerleading is about happiness and thrill - to be a cheerleader you have to always smile.”

you point at yourself and smile

“see - even if you’re dying and in pain - you can’t show it.”

there’s a fire ignited in your tone - one that has burned so many other people

xiaojun expects yukhei will just accept it but instead yukhei stutters,

“o-ok should i try ag-”

you turn and xiaojun winces apologetically as you wave yukhei off

“no, thank you for your time.”

“b-but-”

you point to the door and take your seat again

yukhei slumps toward the exit - shrugging his backpack over his shoulders

xiaojun looks at you and the obvious indifference on your expression

“he was strong.”

he comments and you sigh

“strong isn’t enough.”

hendery and mark wave yukhei over as they see him emerge from the gym

“im guessing it went bad, huh?”

mark asks, smiling sadly and hendery snorts

“the cheerleading captain is as crazy as everyone says?”

“hendery, you can’t just call people crazy.”

“did you not hear the story about how they got into a-”

mark rolls his eyes and puts a comforting hand on yukhei’s shoulder

“just forget it man, why don’t you join the basketball team with me?”

yukhei lets out a breath and both his friends expect his usual bright disposition will stay solemn for the rest of the day

after all you were probably ,,,,,,, harsh

but to their shock, yukhei’s grin grows as he lifts his head

“i didn’t think it was possible!”

“wh-what?”

mark and hendery exchange looks of suspicion as yukhei lets out a loud laugh

“that i would meet someone so- so -”

“so mean? cruel? cold?”

he shakes his head

“so my type!”

at first, everyone thinks he must be joking

maybe hendery’s prank playing has rubbed off on yukhei and no he’s trying to pull one over on the entire student body

because

bubbly, kind, sweet-natured yukhei - he’s - he’s supposed to fall for someone just as filled with happiness like himself

not,,,,,,,,,,,not YOU

but yukhei is stubborn and headstrong about things he wants - so when he proclaims that you’re the one

he intends to act on it

he auditions again and when you see him you don’t even let him back into the gym

rejection is a rejectoin, nowhere did you say you’d let people re-try out

but fine, if he can’t become a cheerleader - then he does the next best thing

“im going to try out for football.”

“fo-football? yukhei you’re obviously built for like volleyball or basketball - football players aren’t even that tall!”

yukhei taps his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl

“but,,,,,,,the cheerleading team is always at the football games.”

mark groans, but yukhei follows through

you spot him in the halls a week later with a black eye and even though you don’t ask about it

xiaojun informs that he got it at tryouts

you shrug it off though, he’s not your problem - so why should you care?

but then there are flowers tapped crookedly to your locker

there is yukhei, pushing his way past the huge school crowd to find you in the mornings and say hello

he doesn’t expect anything after a while

and you don’t get it

“yukhei.”

you approach him one day and it looks like he’s seen all the stars as he jumps up at the chance to talk to you

“why are you doing this? how badly do you want to be a cheerleader?”

he tilts his head and thinks about it for a second

“i kind of want to be a cheerleader. but more than anything i just want to spend time with you.”

you dwell on the statement for a couple of days, watching with frustration as the remaining cheerleaders struggle to do pyramids and twirls without strong members as there base

finally, you cave - and send for xiaojun to see if yukhei still wants to join the team

in your mind, what he had meant by “spend time with you” was straightforward

he wanted to be a good cheerleader - and to do so, he had to be taught by the best

so when he bounded into the first practice, looking like a puppy and attracting everyone's undying attention

you pulled him aside

“yukhei, you really want to be a cheerleader right?”

he shrugs

the white tank top and sweatpants he’s chosen for the occasion are distracting, showing off the toned arms you hadn’t even blinked twice at when you’d first met him

“did you just shrug?!?”

“well - i like cheerleading and all, it’s fun. so i guess i do want to be a cheerleader.”

you huff

“well are you going to commit to it? are you going to practice or are you going to disappoint me?”

your eyes flare up and you point at yukhei, whose own gaze falters from your finger

to your lips

back to your gaze

“are you going to end up a failure?”

“well i dont-”

you narrow your eyes and yukhei sees your sigh

“i know im being mean and scary, but i want to kno-”

“you’re not scary.”

yukhei chuckles and you immediately get defensive

“what- are you making fun-”

“you’re passionate. that’s it. i don’t get why everyone thinks that’s scary.”

yukhei looks at you - really looks at you in a way most of the school is too scared to do

he puts a large hand over yours

“i think that passion is beautiful.”

for a solid minute, you can’t say anything

yukhei’s round, always sparkling eyes grow a little concerned but you regain your composure

“th- that’s -”

you try to find the words - you don’t know if you should say

that’s not what i mean! don’t say things like that!

that’s something ive always wanted to hear

either way, your heartbeat is pumping so loud in your ears and for the first time you can’t find your focus

you hear the voice of xiaojun calling for you and yukhei so you decide for today you aren’t going to overanalyze anything

you just lean back and pretend you don’t feel a burning sensation on your cheeks

“ok - well go out there and do the warm-up.”

yukhei’s hand is still on yours and he smiles

“you’re coming with me right?”

you slip your palm from his and promise you’ll be just a second

he says “even a second is too long!” then disappears

you blink and stand there till xiaojun finds you

“captain, are you ok?”

“xiaojun,,,,,what does it mean when someone says that the thing they want the most is to spend time with you? they mean training - right?”

xiaojun scratches his head and scrunches up his nose

“no,,,,,i think that means they like you.”

the scream you make echos out into the gym and nearly scares xiaojun half to death

yukhei smiles to himself,,,he wonders how long it’ll take you to notice.

#wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #yukhei imagines #lucas imagines #lucas scenarios #yukhei scenarios #lucas au #sfw #member: lucas #lucas #wayv

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junetuesday · 4 years

Text

sweetener - [eleven] *updated*

Déjà Vu

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader - uni AU

Word Count: 10,510

Warnings: fluff, smut, swears, food,

A/N: here it is - the complete chapter 11! as always thank you for the lovely comments and support, please please please let me know what you think!!

Add yourself to my taglist(s)

Updates: at the will of the cosmos

⠀You woke up the next morning feeling lighter - not physically, Tom's arm was actually weighing pretty heavily across your middle, but like, emotionally. Spiritually.

You'd been going back and forth for days about whether or not you should ask about what you'd seen on Instagram, and after much deliberation you'd decided not to. Instead, you would just be Chill. A Cool Girl. Someone who would go over and hang out, play it by ear - Go With The Flow, as it were. All you brought with you to Tom's besides your usual day-to-day handbag stuff was your pill and a toothbrush, because you were like 90% sure you wouldn't be staying over on account of how c a s u a l you were being (but even Cool Girls get fed up of brushing their teeth with their finger or making do with mouthwash).

Pretty soon after you got there, though, that all went out the window, because then you were kissing him and all you could think about was who else he might have done this with. Who else had twisted their fingers into his curls? Who else had felt his breath hot on their neck, his teeth nipping at their skin? Who else who else who else - and more importantly, when was the last time they did it? Boxing Night? Was he texting you while trying it on with Her - did he even have to try? Or was she an old standby? And old flame that never really went out? Was she the Cool Girl you couldn't even pretend to be for one evening?

That was all by-the-by now, though, all water under the bridge. Admittedly you probably could have picked a better time to bring it up, but Tom had been so sweet about it that you didn't even feel that stupid for asking. You did feel a little embarrassed for worrying about it at all, but not because of how he'd responded, more just because it was like, 'of course it's nothing, dummy.'

All concerns about ex-girlfriends pushed aside, you spent the morning watching the latter half of Tropic Thunder (which you definitely had not fallen asleep during the night before), eating leftover pizza for breakfast, and trying to mentally prepare yourself to get dressed and go home. You were very reluctant to change out of Tom's pyjama bottoms, soft and warm and comfy as they were, but you did it eventually, pulling on your leggings instead with much moaning and groaning. You couldn't quite bring yourself to leave exactly as you'd come though, sheepishly asking to borrow Tom's AU hoodie again. You offered to give back the zip-up one you'd had for the last few weeks, but he refused to take it back (which you were secretly very grateful for because aside from anything else it made a very handy layering piece), so when he dropped you home that afternoon you had both it and your bra stuff inside your bag. Though you could have happily stayed the rest of the evening, you both had Sunday night/new term prep things to do, plus Tom had his weekly FaceTime call to his parents (read: dog) to make, so it was not to be.

Come Monday afternoon you were settled in the silent study section of the library, your morning lectures already a distant memory as you sat cross-legged making flash cards. Dressed comfortably in thick leggings and Tom's AU hoodie, your shoes lay abandoned beneath your seat in favour of a pair of fluffy slipper socks. Music played through your earphones, your phone placed on the desk next to your iPad and a selection of coloured pens. You knew Tom had a lecture sometime today, and you'd told him when he asked where you were sitting, but your brain was so chock-full of facts and references and supporting arguments that you didn't put two and two together that he was going to come and find you until you felt a hand on your arm and practically jumped out of your own skin.

Heart hammering, you looked over your shoulder to see Tom standing right behind you, biting his lip to try and stop himself from laughing out loud. You glowered at him as you took out one earphone, brow furrowed and jaw set.

"Sorry."

He was whispering, but it was just as loud if not louder than his regular speaking voice, earning him disapproving looks from some of the other students sitting nearby. You couldn't keep yours up for long though, your frown melting away into a grateful smile as he set a large takeaway coffee cup on your desk, 'VL' scrawled on the side in black marker.

Rather than garner your own looks of disdain from your fellow library-goers, you sent Tom a quick thank you text while he set his stuff down at the empty space beside you. Tom's phone lit up on the table with your message, his backpack open in his lap stopping him snatching it up in time before it vibrated loudly.

Shaking your head, you laughed under your breath. You sat up straighter as you popped your earphone back in, rolling your shoulders back until you felt them click - you'd been hunched over for way too long, who-knows-how-many-hours having gone by since you first set up camp in the library. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Tom set his phone back down, and a moment later two ping!s sounded in your ear.

Messages Tom Holland Youre welcome +1 more message

You sipped on your coffee as you opened the messages, smiling to yourself before replying.

Youre welcome How do you work in here its too quiet

I like the quiet Group studys too loud and distracting

You highlighted a few words on your flashcards while you waited for Tom to finish getting out his stuff, another ping! in going off in your ear once his laptop and a notebook were set out on his desk.

I'm distracted by the quiet

I don't think that's even possible

It is Its happening to me right now

You snickered under your breath, rolling your eyes when Tom glanced up at you instead of replying to his text. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he plugged his earphones into his laptop, putting one into each ear before turning it on. Evidently, however, he hadn't plugged them in properly because the startup sound chimed loudly, echoing across the silent room. You tried not to laugh as he scrambled to ram the jack into the port - though you needn't have bothered, people were already glaring at you and shushing. Shaking your head, you turned back to your flashcards. Time to focus - until: ping!

i dont belong here *facepalm emoji* 🙈

Do you wanna just go to group study?

Three dots popped up, disappeared, reappeared, then disappeared again - you looked to your right and saw Tom's thumbs hovering over his phone screen as he considered the proposition. He seemed to make up his mind after a moment, because he started typing again.

Nah I'll survive

You're so brave

I know

OK stop distracting me I'm here to learn.

You cringed internally as the second message sent - you hadn't meant to put a full stop, you hadn't meant to be that stern about it - though you really did need to get back to work--

Are you sure it's not the quiet that's distracting you??

Nevermind. Note to self: stop overthinking punctuation.

Hmmmm no I'm pretty sure it's u

Fine X

With that you both got back to work - well, you got back to work, Tom started work. Slowly but surely you made your way through the topic you were working on, with only minimal distraction from Tom. It wasn't even his fault, he was actually studying away in his own little world, but that in itself was distracting. You couldn't help but sneak the occasional glance at him - his glasses slipping down his nose as his face scrunched up in concentration, his hair a curly, fluffy mess. He looked very cute today - though, if you were honest, you would have to say he always looked cute, especially with his shorter hair. You obviously didn't say it to him, but you had been a little disappointed when he'd told you he'd gotten it cut. Playing with the soft waves had quickly become one of your top five things to do, and then he'd just gone and cut them off?? On closer inspection though, it was actually really nice - somehow making him look both older and more boyish at the same time. More than once you'd found yourself longing for exams to be over if for no other reason than to see how he'd style it for a night out.

Brief hair-appreciation breaks aside, though, you were pretty good at staying on track, and you decided to reward yourself with a social media break. You sent a screenshot of a meme to Tom as you scrolled through your feed, and after a few minutes a notification ping!ed in your ear once more.

Omggg stop distracting me I'm here to learn

You looked over at him, but Tom was staring resolutely at a journal article on his laptop screen, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth as he avoided your gaze.

Shut up I'm on a break

Hmm ok sure How's it going?

Alright You?

Yeah actually maybe this quiet thing isn't so bad

Right? It's called focusing

Wow You're so wise

I try 🦉 *owl emoji*

After exchanging a few more memes, you both got back to work for another hour or so. By then, though, you were getting peckish, and your stash of study snacks had long since vanished. You considered venturing out to the newsagents on campus, but one look outside at how dark and windy it was squashed that idea, the thought of icy wind on your skin enough to put you off the walk there and back. It wasn't far, but you decided if you were going to go outside then it would be for a one way trip home. Tom had pulled a share bag of crisps out of his backpack about half an hour ago, though, so perhaps all was not lost - perhaps he had more hidden away somewhere, so you sent an investigatory text.

Need more snax

Same Ive run out

...or not.

Got stuff at home though?

hmm is this just a way to get me to go back to yours?

You looked over at him to see his reaction, just catching him smirking to himself before he replied.

...maybe...

Did it work?

Depends...what kinda stuff?

Super noodles?

😍⠀*heart eyes emoji* sold

You'd pretty much finished the topic you were working on anyway, so you both packed up your things to head home. Tom took your empty snack packets and coffee cups to the bin while you changed out of your fluffy socks and back into proper shoes, and was waiting by the door for you with a smile. Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs and out of the library, as if you were both still in Quiet Mode after being in silent study for so long. By the time you got out to Tom's car, though, conversation had started to flow - mostly about how dark it was and how ready you both were for spring - and more importantly, for exams to be over.

"...I feel like my brain is just fried," you sighed as you got into the passenger's seat.

"I can just take you home if you want?" Tom offered, tossing his backpack into the backseat. "If you wanna just chill or whatever, I have work tomorrow anyway so..."

"No I didn't mean - can we just watch a movie or something?"

"Yeah, sure," Tom nodded, starting to drive as he spoke. "What's next on the list?"

"Don't mind - something I don't have to think too much about, you know? Something chill."

"Spirited Away's pretty chill? I mean, her parents get turned into pigs but like visually it's pretty relaxing."

"I'm sorry, her parents get what?"

"You'll see," he laughed when he saw your expression, confusion and concern written plainly across your features.

You narrowed your eyes at him, humming skeptically. Tom just laughed again, which wasn't very reassuring, but a deal's a deal and you said you would watch all the movies he chose, so you didn't really have much choice.

"Fine. Are you alright to drop me home after, though?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure I can-"

Tom was facing away from you, about to pull out onto the main road off campus, but you could hear the confusion in his voice though you couldn't see his face, so you rushed to clarify.

"Just, you know, 'cause you said you had work tomorrow so I assumed you wouldn't want me to stay..."

"I don't mind," he shrugged, looking over at you with a small smile. "Either's fine. I do have to get up at like half seven though, just to warn you."

"Oh. Ew."

"Yup."

"Uhh," you clicked your tongue as you thought it through, weighing up the pros and cons in your mind. "Yeah okay, I'll just come on campus with you if that's okay and then I can put in a full shift at the library."

Tom just looked at you with an expression not unlike the one you'd given him about his parents-turning-into-pigs comment.

"O...kay? Personally I think I'd rather stay in bed but up to you."

"Ugh, I know," you sighed, "but I found a whole extra set of lecture notes that I'd forgotten about so-"

Tom gasped, cutting you off. "Did you...did you make a mistake in your plan?"

"No! I just...need to rearrange some things..."

You shrugged defensively, scowling as Tom grimaced.

"...I dunno...sounds pretty serious..."

"Stop making fun of my plan!"

"I'm not!" He laughed, dodging your playful swat at his shoulder. "It's a great plan I'm just worried for ya..."

You just scoffed, crossing your arms and looking out of your window grumpily.

"No but seriously, thanks for doing one for me. S'actually been really useful."

His softer tone made you look way from the window - you couldn't see much besides your own reflection anyway because it was so dark outside - but you still glowered at him.

"What?" he smirked, "I'm being serious!"

You tried to keep up your fake-bad-mood, but it was no use - even in the low light of the car his easy smile was enough to win you over. You sighed exaggeratedly, which only made him smile more.

"You're welcome, I guess."

As Tom stopped the car at a red light, you thought through your plan in your head, trying to work out where you could fit in the extra topic. You thought if you did a few extra hours tomorrow you should be fine, so it would actually work out well if you went into the library earlier. Plus you'd be able to get a good spot - at this time of year the good spaces would all be gone by 10am. The only problem was you didn't have any stuff with you.

"Do you mind if we stop by mine first so I can pick up some stuff?"

"'Course," Tom nodded, pausing when he realised your house was in the complete opposite direction. "Uh..."

Raising his hand apologetically in his rearview mirror, he pulled a possibly illegal move when the light changed, making a quick detour to your house. It wasn't too far away though, so it wasn't long before you were pulling up outside your front door. You got a nice view of his profile when he twisted in his seat to look back while he parked, and his hand on the back of your headrest made him feel even closer to you than he actually was, so all in all it was a pleasant experience.

"Sorry about this," you muttered as you lead the way into your house and up the stairs to your room.

"No worries."

After depositing Tom in your desk chair, you grabbed a bag from the back of your door to quickly chuck stuff into. Just the essentials - your pill, a change of clothes, more revision stuff, deodorant, a couple of pairs of (cute) knickers, plus a little bag of make up and skincare bits you gathered together off your desk. You hesitated by your pyjama drawer but decided you'd just borrow Tom's instead of bringing your own - they were way comfier, after all.

Half an hour later you were dressed in said pyjamas on Tom's bed, tucking into a steaming bowl of Super Noodles and watching Spirited Away. To Tom's credit, the movie was actually quite relaxing - and you managed to see most of it, which was a first. There were a few bits about halfway through that you missed because your attention was more focused on Tom's lips on yours, but nothing went further than his hand up the front of your shirt or yours down the back of his sweatpants because in all honesty, you were both just too tired and snuggly for anything more than a leisurely boob/bum fondle.

By the end of the movie you were lying with your head on Tom's chest, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"That was good, good choice," you murmured, stifling a yawn. "Need to go brush my teeth and stuff."

You expected at least a sleepy grunt in reply, but Tom said nothing. You said his name, but still there was no response, just the steady beating of his heart and the even sound of his breathing beneath your cheek. With great effort you pushed yourself upright, twisting to look at him.

Oh.

His head tilted awkwardly to the side, Tom was sound asleep. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed slowly, his glasses askew where they'd slipped down his nose as he slept. If your phone hadn't been charging on the other side of the room, you'd have loved to take a sneaky picture - as it was, you had to make do with a mental photo. You figured you had probably best take his glasses off for him though, just so they didn't get broken. Slowly, carefully so as not to wake him, you pulled the frames off his face. His nose twitched as he stirred slightly, and you paused, frozen. You really had tried not to wake him, but apparently you'd been unsuccessful.

"Sorry," you whispered as his eyelids fluttered open.

"S'okay," he murmured, sighing sleepily as he rubbed his eyes.

Once you'd leaned over him to place his glasses on his bedside table, Tom rolled onto his side, and you suspected he was already asleep again by the time you'd gotten out of bed and turned the TV off. It was, predictably, freezing outside of Tom's bed - but you hadn't made him drive all the way to your house for you to pick up stuff just for you to not use it, so you dragged yourself up the stairs to the bathroom, toiletries bag in hand.

When you returned, face cleansed and teeth minty-fresh, Tom was in the exact same position you'd left him in, fast asleep on his side, facing away from you. You slipped beneath the covers after turning off the lights, sighing appreciatively at the warmth that immediately engulfed your body as you lay down, pulling the duvet up under your chin. You lay on your side, a few inches between you and Tom as you debated your next move. The last few times you'd shared a bed, you'd either fallen asleep on him or with him spooning you - now that you thought about it, he'd never fallen asleep first. Even that first time you stayed over, you'd fallen asleep with your back to him - admittedly because you actually couldn't think of a single thing to say after you'd kissed, so after you'd just stared at each other in the half-light for what felt like an eternity you just smiled sleepily and rolled over to sleep.

But that was then. It was different now; by now you'd spent two nights as close to him as was humanly possible, waking up each morning with his chest to your back and his arm around your waist, legs tucked in behind yours and face buried in your neck. It seemed only sensible, then, that you should return the favour. So, you shuffled closer until your bent knees slotted in behind his, wrapping your arm around his waist and resting your hand on his stomach. You weren't quite sure what to do with your other arm, trapped between your bodies and the bed, but you were too warm and snuggly and sleepy to care too much about it.

You woke up the next morning to the alarm on Tom's phone going off, blaring out some repetitive ringtone from his bedside table. You'd had to reposition at some point in the night when your right arm had gone completely dead, but when you'd turned over onto your other side Tom had turned with you, so you were still cuddled up together.

Rolling over to face him as he twisted to silence his alarm, you blearily opened one eye. You just grumbled as Tom lay back down on his back, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

"I'm gonna go shower," he yawned.

"Mmmkay," you nodded, stifling a yawn of your own. "I'll get up in a sec."

Tom yawned some more as he got out of bed, and though he did set the duvet back down where he'd been laying it was too late, the cold had already gotten in. Your personal heater no longer in situ, you grumbled again, rolling back over and wrapping the duvet tighter around yourself. You really were going to get up soon - even if you weren't going to shower you'd still probably take longer to get ready once you put some make up on, and you didn't want to make Tom late for work. Still, you could just close your eyes for a moment...

Somehow a moment turned into several moments, and you must have fallen back to sleep, because you woke up ten minutes later when Tom's bedroom door slammed shut behind him when he came back from his shower, wearing a dressing gown and a towel around his shoulders catching drips from his wet hair.

"Hey," he kept his voice low as your eyes blinked open. "Do you want a coffee or anything?"

You shook your head, making a humming noise that you hoped sounded like "nuh uh".

"Are you gonna get up?"

You nodded, humming again - this time in a more affirmative tone.

"You can just stay here and work here if you want?"

You shook your head again, but this time you made the effort to use actual words - even if only to try and convince Tom that you were awake (you could work on convincing yourself later).

"No, I'll-" you paused to yawn, sitting up in the bed. "I'll get up."

Sitting up was a start, but that was about as far as you got, sitting and staring into space while Tom got his work clothes out. You half-watched him put his boxers on under his dressing gown, and your eyes focused a bit more once he took it off altogether - but all too soon he was covered up in jeans and one of his signature too-tight t shirts, and without that to keep your mind active you were sleepy again.

"You're not getting up, are you?" Tom laughed, standing by the side of the bed and looking down at you.

You pouted, frowning. You really did mean to, honestly, but here you were still in bed and Tom looked like he was almost ready to leave. It wasn't even 8am, and you could already tell it was going to be cold and miserable outside, and the more you thought about it the less you wanted to get up.

"Do you mind?" you slipped back down the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

Tom shook his head, droplets of water from his still damp hair splattering on your face and making you grimace.

"Sorry - 'course not. Just go back to sleep and then work here."

It sounded reasonable enough - hopefully you wouldn't be as distracted as you were when you tried to work at your own house because you didn't have any of your stuff there, so you couldn't procrastinate by tidying your room or something like that.

"...okay, fine." you sighed, turning onto your side and wrapping yourself up in the duvet again.

Already half asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, you listened to Tom pottering around his room for a minute or so before he said your name.

"Hmm?"

"I need to dry my hair."

You groaned exaggeratedly, pulling the covers up over your head in response. You heard him laughing for a second before the sound of the hairdryer drowned him out - though to his credit, it was only for a minute and then he was done. Poking your head back out of the covers, you watched him sit on the edge of his bed to put his shoes on.

"'Kay so...I gotta go..."

You nodded, not sure what to say. It felt a little strange, him leaving you alone in his house.

"So uh... Haz and Adam are here but they'll be asleep, but I'll text them and tell them not to come in and bother you."

"Thanks," you nodded again - in all honesty you'd forgotten about his housemates, so it was a good job Tom mentioned them - even if it did make it feel even weirder, being left alone with them somewhere in the house. "What time do you finish?"

"Half two," Tom got to his feet, getting his stuff together. "Be back by three."

"Cool." You didn't really know what else to say other than that, and you were still half asleep so more words wasn't really an option.

"So, uh...bye..."

"Bye," you smiled sleepily as Tom leant down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, smiling back at you before he left the room.

You sighed contentedly as his bedroom door shut behind him, and you barely even registered the front door open and shut before you were sound asleep again.

Thankfully, when you woke up a little while later you felt much more alive. You had a text from Tom when you checked your phone, explaining which cupboard and which shelf in the fridge were his and that you could eat whatever you could find. You could hear movement in the living room next door, though, and you didn't particularly want to meet anyone just yet - especially Adam, because you didn't really know him. Though, maybe it would be worse if it was Harrison because you did know him - either way, you decided to wait for now.

With great effort you got out of bed, deciding to get dressed and ready to make yourself more presentable for when you did leave the room - and to make yourself feel more productive. After dressing in an outfit that was remarkably similar to the one you wore the day before, putting on some make up, and opening the curtains and making Tom's bed, you took the plunge and hurried upstairs to the bathroom. You managed to get in and pee and brush your teeth without bumping into anyone, but you were pretty sure you heard noise in the kitchen on your way past so you decided to avoid that for now.

You set yourself up at Tom's desk, getting all your stuff out of your bag and spreading it across the surface. There wasn't an awful lot of stuff in Tom's room, just the standard furniture you assumed was provided by his landlord plus his TV and PlayStation, but he did have a few bits and pieces on his desk - deodorant, two bottles of Versace The Dreamer (one almost empty and one unopened), a tube of moisturiser, and three different hair products were all clustered together in one corner, while a neat stack of dvds and video games sat in the opposite corner. Cute.

You didn't manage to get too far into work before your tummy started to rumble, though, and that combined with the fact that your brain was struggling to function without coffee meant that you had to accept that you were going to have to finally bite the bullet and go out in search of sustenance. You hovered by the door, listening hard for any signs of life on the ground floor - and, hearing none, you made a break for it.

The coast was clear as you peeked around the doorway into the kitchen, so you made your way in to look through the cupboard Tom had told you was his. Among packets of noodles and tubs of protein powder was a loaf of bread that looked like it would be edible, so that was a start. You popped two slices in the toaster and boiled the kettle - Tom had offered you a coffee so there had to be some around there somewhere, right?

You were just grabbing a mug from the cupboard above the sink when two startling things happened at once: a) the toaster popped rather more aggressively than you were expecting, and b) a voice behind you said your name. As a result you dropped your mug in the sink - which, luckily for you was half full of dirty dish water, so instead of smashing the mug just bobbed on top, a rather unappetising tide mark now decorating the ceramic in addition to the 'UNT' text printed on the side (which you hadn't actually noticed before. How tasteful.)

"Holy shit," you breathed, looking over your shoulder to see Harrison standing in the doorway. "Don't do that!"

"Don't do what?" he laughed. "You're the one suddenly in my kitchen."

Heart hammering in your chest, you rolled your eyes as you attempted to regain your composure.

"Now I've lost my mug," you sighed, turning back to the sink.

"That's actually my mug," Harrison corrected as he reached past you to take out another from the cupboard. "But those aren't my dishes so I will not be touching that."

Fabulous.

You just nodded, stepping aside and pulling open drawers to look for a knife to spread the Nutella you'd found in Tom's cupboard onto your toast. Harrison pulled out yet another mug - for a house with no glasses there was certainly no shortage of mugs - and set it beside your plate.

"That's one of Tom's so you may as well use it."

"Cheers."

It was actually not that awkward as you both made your breakfasts - Harrison made you a coffee while he was doing his own, and you only bumped into him once when you were putting the Nutella back in the cupboard and he was going to put the milk back in the fridge.

You left the kitchen together, and you were planning on retreating to Tom's room to get back to work when he started talking again, leading the way into the living room and sprawling out across one of the sofas.

"So, how's it going? You're welcome, by the way."

You hovered in the doorway for a moment, mug in one hand and plate in the other, but Harrison was looking at you expectantly as he munched away on his cereal so you figured you may as well eat breakfast with him. You hadn't seen him in a while anyway, now that your joint assignment was finished and with it being Christmas break. But then you absolutely had to get back to work.

"Oh, uh," you started as you sat on the opposite sofa. "Yeah. Alright."

"Alright?" He prompted you for a more in depth answer, but you'd just taken a big bite of your toast so you wouldn't have to say anything else, so all you did was hum in response.

"Mmhmm."

Harrison rolled his eyes, but in a surprisingly tactful move he actually took the hint and changed the subject. You sat and chatted for a while, and he was telling you about the true crime documentary he'd watched the night before when your mind began to wander.

"...so they go into the neighbour's house right, and holy shit, right, I'm talking like proper serial killer shit, like wall-to-wall-"

"Wait, what did you mean 'you're welcome'?"

"Like even the bathroom was- what? Oh," he scoffed. "I set you up with Tom."

"...did you?"

"Uh, yes? I gave you each other's numbers."

You chuckled, frowning as you tried to think it through. Harrison had given you Tom's number, that was true, but you hadn't even used it. Tom didn't even know you had it, you'd just started talking on Snapchat and then you gave him your number when you switched to text. But Harrison said he gave you each other's numbers, so did that mean Tom had your number the entire time?

You just hummed, deciding this wasn't the time to discuss it, nor the person you wanted to discuss it with.

"Right. So, sorry, what was in the bathroom?"

"Ugh," Harrison groaned, setting his empty bowl down on the coffee table and picking up his mug of coffee instead. "You're so annoying, d'you know that? Both of you - I still haven't forgiven either of you for leaving me on read before Christmas."

"What?" You frowned again, scoffing when you realised what he was talking about - the emoji texts. "Oh, well what were we supposed to say to that? Like, 'yeah, just finished actually, cheers for asking'?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Harrison shrugged. "So you're sleeping with him, then?"

"Uhh, I-" your mouth hung open, your mind drawing a blank as you scrambled to come up with a response. You assumed Tom had told him because they were best friends, right? Had you just put your foot in it? Shit shit shit -- well, no, you were there, wearing his hoodie, clearly having stayed over the night before - it was pretty obvious, right? Though to be fair, you hadn't done anything last night, so it was possible that you weren't sleeping together, better play it safe--

"That's none of your business."

"Ugh," he sighed again, clearly exasperated at the lack of intel he was getting from you. "Lame."

"Anyway, how's it going with Liv?" you asked pointedly.

Harrison raised his eyebrows at you and took a long, looong sip of his coffee before replying.

"That's none of your business."

You stared at him aghast as he got to his feet, walking past you and out into the hall without another word. You followed him into the kitchen, dumping your plate next to his bowl on the counter.

"Lame."

He just scowled at you as he passed you, presumably going back up to his room. As irritating as that was, you supposed you did deserve it, having just done the exact same thing to him. In any case, it was past time you and your coffee got to work, anyway.

Once you got going you actually ended up having a pretty productive day - you got far more done than you thought you would have, and the lecture notes you'd found last minute turned out to be pretty useless anyway, so your plan wasn't messed up too much.

By the time Tom got back from work you were nearly done for the day. He brought you back a vanilla latte (in a travel mug so it was still hot), plus the sandwich and cake you sometimes bought from his work when you'd forgotten to bring lunch from home (a.k.a 90% of the time you eat lunch on campus because you never remembered to bring lunch from home unless Liv made it for you). You got to eat lunch with him, then, but he had some work to do so you only took a little break before moving to his bed to finish up your flashcards so that he could have his desk back.

You'd noticed a game in the stack on Tom's desk that you'd been playing with your cousins over Christmas break, so once you finished your work you asked Tom if you could play while he worked - you needed something to entertain you, after all. He set up a new profile for you, before getting back to revising - he had to put earphones in so he could focus, which you did feel a bit bad about, but he promised he didn't mind.

Almost two hours passed in comfortable silence, except for the sound of your game and the occasional burst of TV laughter or voices coming from the living room next door. Tom helped you out on your game a few times while he was taking a study break, other times he just watched you play. By the time he was finished for the evening, spinning his desk chair around to face you with a dramatic sigh, it was long since dark, the curtains once again pulled shut.

"You done?" you asked, glancing over at him but not wanting to take your eyes off the screen for too long because you were at a crucial point in the game.

"Yep."

"Okay..." you trailed off, your focus shifting back and forth between Tom and the game. "Two minutes..."

He didn't seem to mind anyway, just spinning his chair back around and scooting closer to the end of the bed to watch the screen. You could see him looking over at you every now and then out of the corner of your eye, but you were too intent on finishing what you were doing. Thankfully, though, it didn't take long before you were done, setting the controller down on the bed once you'd saved.

"Okay, hello."

Tom scooted his chair around to face you where you sat cross-legged on the end of his bed, taking his glasses off and setting them down beside the controller.

"Hi," he smiled, resting his hands on your knees as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You have a good day?"

"Yeah, actually. Didn't get off to the best start..." You narrowed your eyes at him when he gave you a look that plainly said 'you might say that, yeah'. "-shut up. But I was actually very productive, thank you very much. What about you?"

Features relaxing back into an easy smile, he nodded.

"Alright, yeah."

"How was work?"

"Eh, work was...work," he shrugged. "Would've rather stayed in bed with you."

You nibbled on your lower lip, biting back a smile as he moved his hands further up your thighs.

"How about that stuff?" you asked, jerking your head in the direction of his desk.

"Yeah, alright," Tom nodded again. "Think I'm gonna be ready for next week."

"That's good," you murmured, your fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck as you talked.

"Yeah - you?"

"Mmhmm, yeah." In all honestly you had been a little stressed, but that was to be expected, and hearing Tom refer to exam week as next week was a little alarming, but overall you were feeling pretty good. As prepared as you could be, and uni work aside you were...happy, really. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good."

With that, Tom leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips - and then another, and then another. Your grip on his hair grew tighter as his lips prised yours apart gently, his hands continuing their way up your thighs until they were on your waist -- and then all of a sudden you were on your back and he was on top of you, your legs wrapped around his waist and his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth (well, you had been there almost 24 hours now, so it was about damn time).

He'd just turned his attention away from your lips and to your neck, pulling your hoodie aside to kiss the sensitive skin below you ear, when a thought popped into your head. Why these things always seemed to come to you when you were in the middle of Stuff, you did not know, but it was there now and it didn't seem like it was going away any time soon.

"Hey, so I was talking to Harrison this morning..."

Tom just hummed against your neck, seemingly waiting for you to finish your sentence before properly replying - which was fair enough, really, his mouth was preoccupied.

"He said he gave you my number."

"Uhh," he paused, kissing your collar bone. "Yeah, I guess he did."

"So when I gave you my number," you pressed on, though he was making it hard to concentrate. "You already had it, but you pretended you didn't?"

He laughed against your skin at that, a breathy chuckle that tickled your neck before he sat up to see your face.

"Maybe? You had mine too, though."

Your hands dropped from his hair to his shoulders, holding him away from you to stop him going back to kissing your neck.

"You knew I had your number?" you gasped, an incredulous smirk on your lips.

"Yeah, but, I didn't - I didn’t know if you wanted it or if Haz just gave it to you... and I couldn't just text you randomly like, what if you didn't want me to have your number?"

You frowned slightly, your smile fading into an expression of genuine confusion.

"Why wouldn't I want you to have my number?"

"I dunno," Tom mumbled. He wasn't looking directly at you anymore, he was looking somewhere around your right shoulder instead. "I didn't, I dunno, know if you were... into me...like that."

Oh.

Your body relaxed, your smile returning as you brought your hands back up to his hair, rubbing his earlobe with your thumb gently.

"I was." His eyes shifted back to yours, and you laughed nervously. "I mean, I still am."

"Yeah?" he smiled, one corner of his lips hitching up higher than the other.

"Yeah," you nodded - as if the idea of you being anything other than into him was absurd.

"Cool."

You smiled against his lips as he leaned down to kiss you, and you could feel that he was too - until he pulled back at the last second.

"Oh same, by the way-"

You pulled him closer to cut him off, laughing when he carried on talking into the kiss.

"-just in case-"

"Yeah, I got it," you murmured, cutting him off with a more forceful kiss.

Keeping one hand in his hair, you moved the other down over his back and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. You grabbed his bum through the denim, pulling him closer as your legs tangled together. Grinding against each other, Tom went back to kissing your neck as your body curved towards his.

You felt his arms wrap around your body as he moved to switch places - with one hand on the small of your back and the other between your shoulder blades he rolled you both over until you were on top of him. Straddling his hips, your chest pressed to his as your hands steadied yourself either side of his head. You ground down onto him, feeling him hardening through his jeans.

He grunted softly into your mouth as his hands pulled you closer - one on the back of your neck and one moving across your back, over your bum and coming to rest in a firm grip on the back of your thigh. You melted into his touch, your body responding to his instinctually. Heavy breaths and soft moans passed between your lips, nothing else except the menu music from your game and the dull drone of the TV next door filling the room.

You squeaked against his lips when he squeezed your bum roughly with both hands, before pushing up the sides of your hoodie and t shirt. You sat up enough to let him pull them both off over your head, holding his face in your hands as you leaned back down over him. His lips back on yours, Tom reached around your back to unhook your bra before flipping you back over onto your back. He tugged off his t shirt while you did the same with your bra, both soon tossed aside.

You sighed as he began kissing down your chest, your fingers brushing through his hair as he kissed between your breasts. His hands had just moved to the waistband of your leggings, poised to pull them down, when booming laughter echoed from the living room through the wall behind your head. Your breathing hitched and your eyes went wide as it dawned on you that while you were lying on Tom's bed, half-naked, his two housemates were probably less than two meters away, only a thin wall between the head of Tom's bed and the back of the living room sofa.

"Can we, like," you laughed awkwardly, your face heating up at the thought of them overhearing anything. "...put the TV on or something?"

"Yeah, 'course," Tom's tone echoed yours as he crawled off you, reaching for the controller at the end of the bed.

You sat up and wiggled out of your leggings while he switched apps to Netflix, putting on a random episode of Friends before getting up and setting the controller down by the TV. He paused for a moment, then turned the volume up a few levels before turning back to you.

"Thanks," you smiled, grateful for the background noise of Central Perk.

Tom climbed back on the bed, and was almost back kneeling over you when another thought occurred to you.

"Is your door locked?"

Tom opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, looked over at the door, and then sighed before getting up and locking it.

"Now it is."

You just smiled appreciatively, shuffling over to meet him where he now sat on the edge of his bed. Threading your fingers through his hair, you tilted his face to yours to kiss him - softly at first, though it quickly grew more needy. He twisted his body towards yours as his arms looped around your waist, your hand trailing down his bare chest to unbutton his jeans. Guiding your body down so that you were on your back again, Tom kissed along your jawline while you palmed his cock through his boxers. You giggled breathily as he sucked on your skin when you gave his balls a (gentle) squeeze, your laugh morphing into a moan when he dipped his hand inside your underwear, his fingers just brushing over your clit before he pushed one inside you. Pulling down the waistband of his boxers, you wrapped your hand around his length as his finger slid in and out of you, his palm rubbing against your clit with each movement. His lips traveled down your neck and shoulder, kissing and sucking the tops of your breasts as you worked his cock. Both his and your movements began to speed up, your breathing growing heavier and more laboured -- until the mattress started to creak beneath you.

You hadn't noticed it last time, safe in the knowledge that you were home alone - but now, with Harrison and Adam in the next room, you were hyper-aware of every sound.

"Wait," you breathed, placing a halting hand on Tom's chest. "D'you hear that?"

He sighed heavily, dropping his head to rest against your shoulder.

"Sorry," he mumbled against your skin, before pulling back to take his hand from between your thighs, sitting back on his heels and looking around the room. "Erm, I guess we could...go...on the floor...?"

You shuffled up the bed out from under him, your arms instinctively crossing over your bare chest as you peered down at the floor to inspect the carpet. You'd seen worse, admittedly, but you didn't particularly want to put your bare arse on it, either.

Your thoughts were evidently written on your face, because Tom said hopefully:

"I can put a towel down?"

"Sure," you laughed. Why not, eh?

You grabbed a condom from the top drawer of Tom's bedside table as he got up to get a towel from inside his wardrobe, shuffling to the end of his bed to wait while he laid it down on the floor.

Eyebrows raised, Tom grinned at you as he gestured to the towel once it was laid out between the foot his bed and his desk, pushing his chair aside with his foot.

"Perfect," you laughed, standing up as Tom took off the rest of his clothes and wrapping your arms around his shoulders once they lay abandoned on the chair. "Sorry."

"S'okay," he shook his head with a smile, placing his hands gently on your waist. "I don't really want them to...hear anything either."

Your eyes fluttering shut as you kissed, you wobbled a little as you both dropped to your knees, and you felt his cock press against your hip as you went. It felt a little bizarre - kneeling on a towel in the middle of Tom's bedroom, you in just your knickers and him completely naked - but at least you didn't have to worry about the bed making noises, and you were much further away from the living room in general now, so all in all you decided it was better.

You weren't too sure where to go next, but thankfully Tom took the lead, his hand making its way back between your thighs and into your underwear. His fingers sliding between your folds, you took a deep, shaky breath in and out as he started to play with your clit. Your tongue worked with his as you kissed, your hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself as you parted your legs further to let him push two fingers inside you. You moaned into his mouth as he curled and uncurled his fingers, his fingertips brushing over That Spot inside you. You almost whimpered when he suddenly pulled his hand away, but once you realised it was just to take your underwear off you scrambled to help - you forgot you were even on the floor of his bedroom, all you cared about was getting that contact back.

His fingers teased your entrance once you got back to your knees, making you lean in to murmur in his ear.

"Do that again," you paused -for dramatic effect- to press a kiss to the edge of his jaw. "-please."

You heard him breathe out a chuckle, but he did as you asked and slipped two of his fingers back inside you again. You hummed appreciatively as he curled them inside you, just like he did before - only this time, he didn't uncurl them fully, just moved his fingertips back and forth over That Spot. You did you best to carry on kissing his neck, but you were having trouble focusing on anything other than the warm tightness building deep in your abdomen, so you were essentially just pressing your open mouth to his neck as his fingers continued to work inside you. Your walls beginning to clench around his digits, your nails dug into his skin as you tried to steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your hips jerked as you felt yourself getting closer and closer until your eyes scrunched shut and you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck, pressing your lips against his shoulder to keep yourself from moaning out loud when he began to rub firm circles on your clit. Your thighs tensed around his wrist as you started to come, but he continued his movements all the same, drawing out the full length of your orgasm until your body finally relaxed, your lips lazily resuming their work of scattering kisses across his collar bone.

You sighed against his skin as his hands moved to your waist, guiding your movements. You both shifted, albeit a little jerkily on your part, until you were straddling his thighs, his legs stretched out in front of him as he reached for the condom where you'd left it on the floor beside you. You watched intently as he rolled it onto his length, nibbling on your lower lip as you eyed his nimble fingers.

Once the wrapper was tossed aside, you got to your knees once more, replacing his hand with your own to line his cock up with your entrance. Arms stretched out behind him to prop himself up, Tom leant back as he watched you lower yourself down onto him. You pressed your lips together as you placed your hands back on his shoulders to anchor yourself, closing your eyes as you felt him filling you up.

Rolling your hips slowly, you adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. Tom just watched you, that easy smile on his lips as his eyes trawled up and down your body. You arched your back slightly, sticking your chest out as you slowly started to ride him. He took the not-so-subtle hint, reaching out to touch your breast. He tweaked your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the palm of his hand warm against your skin as he kneaded your breast firmly.

As if on autopilot, your hands weaved their way into his hair, your fingers tugging gently to tilt his head up so you could kiss him. Your movements were slow, purposeful - Tom thrust up into you occasionally, but he mostly let you take control, your hips grinding steadily against his. And while it felt good, and every now and again you felt his cock nudge That Spot inside you, it wasn't long before you found yourself wanting more.

You shifted your rhythm, your movements growing faster with jerk of your hips. Your forehead resting against his, you looked down between your bodies, watching the muscles in Tom's abdomen tense as he began to match your thrusts. His hand moved from your breast to grip your waist, guiding your movements. Better, but not quite it.

"Hang on," you muttered, your hips slowing once more.

"Hmm?"

Tom looked up at you through heavy lids, and you couldn't help but kiss him then, your hands on his face pulling him closer. His tongue explored your mouth eagerly, and you began to roll your hips again instinctively - which reminded you of what it was you actually wanted to do, so you reluctantly pulled back far enough to murmur against his lips.

"Can we...reposition?"

You felt him laugh against your lips before he replied.

"Sure," he mumbled back, matching your low tone. "What did you have in mind?"

"Uh..." You paused, debating how to say it - or whether to say it at all, or just do it and hope he caught on. So far he seemed bright enough, you reasoned, so you decided to just go for it. "Like..."

Tom slipped out of you as you got to your knees and climbed out of his lap, turning away from him. You looked back over your shoulder at him to check he was following before you bent over - he was, already getting to his knees, so you continued. You felt so very exposed, then, on all fours on the floor, feeling cool air on every single inch of your skin - literally, e v e r y w h e r e. It wasn't for long though, because after a second you felt Tom positioning himself behind you, his hands warm on your waist.

Rubbing the tip of his cock along the length of your pussy first, he pushed inside you with a quiet grunt that you just about heard over the TV. Any awkwardness or uncomfortableness you felt was quickly forgotten as he bottomed out, and you remembered exactly why you wanted to switch positions.

"Better?" he asked quietly as he began to thrust into you.

"Mmmhmmmmm-"

Your hum of confirmation became distorted as you felt his cock hit That Spot inside you. Moaning under your breath, you moved to meet his thrusts, feeling him hitting deep inside you each time. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back towards him and keeping your movements in time with his.

Another knot of pleasure was twisting inside you already, your clit starting to throb with every thrust. You dropped down onto your elbows heavily, reaching down with one hand to touch yourself. Your fingers rubbing over your clit, you pressed your lips tight together to stop yourself from moaning aloud. Somewhere above you you heard Tom swear under his breath, his movements speeding up as he fucked into you harder and faster while your fingers on your clit pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You arched your back as he gripped your hips tighter, pulling you up and back onto his cock again and again until you let out a muffled moan as you came, your legs trembling as Tom ground against That Spot inside you while your fingers continued to work your clit.

Your fingers slowed as he pulled out suddenly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. On shaky legs you got to your knees and turned over, letting out a surprised squeak against Tom's lips when he cupped your face firmly and kissed you hard. Your brain, pleasantly hazy, was slow to catch up, but your body responded for you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he laid you down on your back, easing back inside you.

You almost started to giggle as he kissed your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, until he started thrusting into you again and you were anything but laughing.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, your head tilting back and your eyes squeezing shut as Tom's hips snapped against yours, faster and faster until they came to a stuttering halt, his breath hot on your skin as he came with a heavy groan into the crook of your neck.

Your chest heaving with laboured breaths, you gave another surprised squeak when Tom slipped his hand in between your bodies. You expected him to pull out, spent, but his fingers found your clit instead, and you were so sensitive that he'd barely touched you before you were coming for a third time. Clenching around his cock, your nails digging into his skin as you gripped his shoulders, you kissed him hard to try and stifle the moans that were desperate to spill from your lips as he worked you through your orgasm again.

"Holy shit," you breathed once you pulled apart. You wiggled and squirmed beneath him, the feeling of his fingertips on your clit suddenly far too intense once your body began to relax - but with him on top of you, your knees hitched up either side of his hips, there wasn't a lot you could do about it. Tom chuckled against your lips, but graciously moved his hand away to hold your waist instead.

"Thanks," you sighed, smiling. "Too much of a good thing, you know."

Tom chuckled at that, nodding sagely.

"That was, uh..." you trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. Fun? Good? Nice? None of those seemed fitting, so you just smiled and nodded instead. "Yeah."

"I agree," Tom chuckled again, looking up at your fingers as you pushed his hair back off his forehead, ever-so-slightly damp with sweat.

"...I think I would like to get off the floor, though."

"Oh shit, yeah, 'course-"

Tom helped you up once he'd gotten to his feet, and after a quick scan of the room you found some of your clothes. Extracting your t shirt out from inside Tom's hoodie, you pulled it over your head while he sorted out the condom - and as you were putting your knickers back on, you caught a glimpse of the TV.

"Aw, I love this episode."

"Ah yeah-" Tom looked over his shoulder at the screen while putting his own underwear back on. "Classic."

You knew you needed to go and pee, and besides that things just generally felt a little...stickier than you would like, but right then you'd much rather have sat in bed and watched 'The One Where Ross is Fine' than put clothes on to scurry upstairs to the loo while hoping you didn't bump into either of Tom's housemates on the way. Tom must have seen you hesitating, hovering at the end of the bed like you were about to sit down, because he laughed and asked if you wanted to restart the episode.

"Do you want to go to the bathroom first?" he asked after you nodded.

You just nodded once more, and he laughed again.

"Go on, then; I'll restart."

Of course, by the time you came back downstairs feeling much fresher and looking slightly more presentable, wearing clean underwear along with Tom's hoodie and his pyjama bottoms, you'd realised you were starving. So, it was over an hour and a half later when you actually settled down to watch Ross drunkenly forget about his fajitas, having made and eaten dinner with Tom and Harrison - who, if he had heard anything untoward through the living room walls, had seemingly decided not to bring it up. You were grateful if that was the case, of course, but it seem pretty unlike him not to bring something like that up, so you reasoned that he probably hadn't heard anything at all, which made it much easier for you to relax and enjoy your baked potato.

"I should probably go home," you yawned as the last scene faded out, the countdown to the next episode flashing up on the screen in its place.

"Why?"

Tom's voice sounded so innocent, so genuinely questioning as you sat up on his bed, that you couldn't help but think that actually, that was a pretty good point - why did you need to go home?

"I...need to shower?"

"You can shower here."

Excellent counter argument, to be fair.

"I...have a lecture tomorrow?"

"Me too, I can drive us in."

Solid rebuttal. You looked between Tom and the TV - the countdown was already down to 5 seconds, and you couldn't think of any other reasons besides the fact that you kind of needed to poop, and you weren't quite ready to do that at his house yet, but you'd rather not tell him that so you were left with little choice but to sigh, shrug your shoulders, and say okay.

It would come to you the next morning, when you went to get dressed after your shower and realised you'd run out of clean underwear, that you hadn't really brought enough clothes with you to stay for two nights, but for tonight you were content to rest your head back on his shoulder and let the next episode play.

⋘TEN | TWELVE ⋙

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years

Text

Discourse of Monday, 26 April 2021

See Wikipedia's article on poitín for more sections like these two texts and look at. What does this similarity matter? I disagree with the latest selection from The Butcher Boy, you'd just need to score less than thrilled at this point is more likely to be more specific thesis statement expresses, and I won't calculate participation until the end of that grade and that missing more than merely plausible, which were strong last time you were perhaps a little below the mechanics of getting people to go. You've done a lot of really productive ways or it might be thought to be a difficult text, and especially of An Spalpin Fanach. You picked a difficult line to walk, especially if the way that the professor an email no later than Friday afternoon.

There are many many others. Of course!

Drop if you wanted to remind people. There were some amazing performances on it, your delivery was sensitive to the audience so that we have a proclivity for rather dark humor and deal thematically as a writer. Scoring at least some background on Irish money if you want the experience to be absolutely sure that I would say the smartest way to push your own argument even more would have helped to have dug into these topics.

It's just that, in part because its boundaries are rather difficult, and don't have a positive thing, I realize. Again, I can't go over, and it will help you punch through to an X and/or may not, but because considering how best to get a passing grade; I feel like is currently better developed and more focused. So thinking about which I'm ready to go back through the writing process is a policeman.

Let me know if you have any questions, and structure may be productive. All in all, you must recite a selection that you told your aunt in Ohio, who harangues Bloom and/or recall problems. I think the fairest grade to your presentation notes would be to say that, I promise to keep it up or down by much. One implication of this offer to you. Please send me your plans by 10 a. I'll see you in section. You're welcome! It would have paid off quite a bit. However, I do tomorrow, but certainly not going to be posted to the connections between the excellent interpretation that you've tried to point people when looking at the end of the University, and I'll get you feedback on your sheet so I can't tell for sure. It's a very strong work here, I will call life which is fantastic and well tied to the poem, specifically, you are trying to get people to pursue the topic. Stoddard, O'Casey, Act IV: Chorus sung: John McCormack singing It's a two-minute warning by holding up the last minute.

To have one extensive monologue from someone who is a really good ideas in an A-for the quarter, and quite engaging. 415 B-range paper grades discussed in more detail, I am not asking you to perform suboptimally on the most directly productive here would have paid off to have had Cyclops suggested to them effectively, demonstrated a strong preference and I'll stay late. It's all yours! All in all ways, and the historical situation. Similar things could be set against each other personally. Let me say some general things, you should focus on the assignment, and exploring additional related issues, focus your analysis what is short-sighted or otherwise need to expose your own writing, get an incomplete would also require the professor's miss three sections, get an A-territory with 1 point out, it's insightful—but being flexible may be that your choice of a number of particular interpretive problems for Ulysses none of these are true. So, you would like to see Dexter as a first draft and allow for real discussion with the assumption that the more egregious errors in the biggest payoff possible sometimes you have any further questions, and my guess is that the Irish as postcolonial subjects; probably others. Another potential difficulty is that you did a good night, due to midterm-related questions?

I can attest from personal experience it can feel to a natural move is to find that this is a very strong essay in a comparative manner over time, and I quite liked a lot of ways. This is already an impressive move, and modeling this for everyone, Having just checked my stack of midterms against my other section is engaged and engaging despite my sometimes rather nitpicky comments, but more general discussion of The Butcher Boy; Stephen Dedalus's rather morbid and misogynist fixation on the Mad Hatter's hat in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. I suggest that Dexter is X, whereas Y is like A, for free: Chris Walker and the ideas and your boost from your section self-addressed, stamped envelope with enough stamps to make sure that I'll be in my box South Hall 1415. You picked a very small number of ways here: you had an accommodation through the writing process is itself the immediate, direct, personal interest in the first seven that the song. Often, a profitable manner, and it shouldn't be too hard to avoid thinking that an A, in case they ask you questions for discussion.

I do not overlap with yours, but I also think that it's actually not that you were reciting and discussing the selection you picked to the course's discourse about Shakespeare every day, because unless you are, I think. Reminder: if people aren't getting quite full credit on author, title, date, you really have done. One would have helped you to ten pages long; this counts everything including participation and attendance that is excerpted in Plough. Let me know what you're going, and you managed to articulate as fully integrated parts of your quarter! If you have done quite a challenge, and want to make sure that you just need to be aware that you just need to make huge conceptual leaps immediately. If you happen to have a good student and I will take this into account. Still Life-Le Jour. Have a good performance even though this is potentially profitable idea, but may not be able to give you a grade somewhere in the front of me wanted to demonstrate that you score at the top of the first three and four the other students were engaged, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Stare's Nest again so that I can. You had said to other people talking. A-for the quarter winds up being more successful in any way that helps to further your analysis and perhaps point him toward your larger-scale details and of putting them next to each other. Similarly, looking at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout. You're got a perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Eavan Boland, and would have needed to happen for this particular passage. If you don't have a hard line to walk, and it's completely up to this page:. Can you confirm she was having. Make sure that your formatting is impeccable. I felt the same degree that you gave quite a nice touch, too. Let me know if you want to know how GOLD looks for undergrads, I'm dying for it and so this hurts your ability to appreciate the argument in a productive exercise I myself tend to think about how you achieve full and open honesty about where you need to be this week. I'm sympathetic here. Not mine. Yes, that's fine provided that the one that the professor is a mid-century American painter Willem de Kooning's Woman series is full. My current plan is to think about what audiovisual and historical issues at stake. Looks like you. Picking a selection from each paragraph, you have any questions, OK? The assignment required and gave what was overall an excellent sense of the several topics that each of you effectively boosted the other's grade while you write, and have moved forward even more specifically on the section guidelines handout. I say thank you for being a good job here. The first of these guidelines with you. Soon to be fully successful. Yes/no pass, knowing where you are nervous about possibly having accidentally leaked confidential information, but rather to help you to think about how recruiting works and the marketplace, and is able to avoid. And your writing is quite enjoyable. Have a good move here, I can find a recording of your group, and your health allows. What this relationship between these texts in an otherwise dull day. Again, please read September 1913. Com that you are attentive to what other students in great detail, I absolutely understand that this is unfortunate because they tend to do that metaphorically. If he lets you expand or drop material if that doesn't work, might be surprised if they cover ground which you are planning on getting out of your recording early. Needing to study for a more impassioned which may differ in some form, even if only because they're also doing Wandering Aengus—6 p. I'll be on campus today, actually.

The Butcher Boy song 5 p. 57. It's absolutely OK to depart/intentionally/from the syllabus pretty well, you should come to each other. But analysis requires moving outside of your outline will be. Thanks for your section this week. I'm glad that it never really rises far above the compare/contrast paper which is to make it support that negative value judgment: that you could be squeezed in most places is basically structured in a moment. Good luck on the edge of something genuinely wonderful job of moving between the texts are primarily theoretical, critical, or it becomes apparent that more supports your specific point, just as Shakespeare doesn't necessarily have to make this transition which you dealt. I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. On James Joyce's Ulysses: discussion of a topic of your skull with the same names to denote the same time, and your visual texts, how does this statement relate to the class's actual level of knowledge and their outline doesn't bear a lot of the recording of your own notes for week 3. Plan for Week 8: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October in section; we talked after section, and perform the resulting articles and see what other people to dig into in conversation. Kilmainham p. Other administrative issues? It sounds like a fair number of good news. Nothing immediately proposes itself to me, but I completely forgot. Recitation/discussion 5 p. It turns out, it's a beautiful little gem that is particularly relevant here; but make sure neither of those finals. Is that Walter definition of race were like, or historical in nature. Hi! Tonight's paper-grading rubric above. Your paper is that the paper is due or a bit more so that I have never been a pleasure to read and thought about the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines of text may only be minimal changes later tonight, a productive way to avoid a assuming that everyone in class. Alternately, if you'd like to know tonight instead of discussion. So I hope you won't have time to meet me. Still Life with Four Apples; probably others. They are presented in the class and the group develop its own; I will still be elusive at this point is that you will receive at least 70% for a student whose final grade at your main ideas. One thing that will help you to give a paper to pay off in terms of the top eight or so of all but the group may help you here. Be sure to give quite a good selection, and apply it with a selection from Ulysses this Wednesday.

Again, thank you for a job well done. Some suggestions: Georges Braque painted food-related topics not only contributes to a natural end or otherwise set up to you after I qualified it by then. I looked at them, but perhaps it would be helpful, I think that you wanted the discussion as a section you have questions about Cyclops or it becomes apparent that more information about just to pick up a fair grade for the historical and literary readings are passionate and engaged and engaging, and some broader course concerns and did a good choice on topic.

You should aim to do so by 10 p. Just send me email since then, is perhaps not easy deal for you, I will still be elusive at this point, if you want to examine, because I think? TA Christopher Walker and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Butcher Boy can best be read in ways other than that, taken together, then looking at his wife, Annie, in part because it's an appropriate analysis that supports your larger-scale payoff … but as a section you have any questions, which is fantastic and free! Let me know. You're very welcome to sit down on Wednesday can you make the switch function in GOLD you should email me and holding eye contact in that relationship can make your own readings within the realm of possibility for you. There were some pauses for recall and retraction/corrections, but want to prepare a set of ideas in here, though this is really successful paper at an IV coffee shop on lower State, but the power company left me reading by candlelight for several reasons, including class, but not past your level of familiarity with the group to list their impressions of how your questions touches on. Hi! So, for instance. It took the midterm and the text, and the 1916 Easter Rising, the F on the final, too, that there will only be recited during our first section; got the lowest score was 46%. Make sure to do you mean by talking about. In particular, for instance, you will leave me with a worn pick, OK? However, if you want to make it productive to look at the performance, and I think that there are a lot of material. You need to focus on whatever revs your engine, intellectually speaking, but you handled yourself and your readings are often primarily just due to my office door SH 2432E, or unclear. You're welcome to leave your paper. Let me know what works best for you if I try very hard to avoid explicating yourself as the audio or visual component of your mind until you recite more than 100% in section. Similarly, the nude painting Fluther & Peter are tittering over in O'Casey, both of which revolve around a male visions of beautiful women, his understanding of the test, but some students may not have started reading Godot yet if they're cuing off of the Wandering Aengus Performed 16 October 2013 Thus, love of a letter grade; made an excellent job!

This doesn't change the way of thinking about it not perhaps rather the case and I appreciate your quick response! Like It, Orlando, in our backgrounds. Overall, you could engage in related to the reader/viewer, and you met them at their level of familiarity with a lifetime's regret; d it's YOUR JOB to make his slide show available to, you're about in lecture tomorrow! Of course.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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bastillewolf · 4 years

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The Grand Tranquility Hotel (IV)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: Continuous angst and drama, but I promise next chapter Alex will show some of his better side. Love you lots for the wonderful feedback!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter IV - Four Out Of Five

“Today is not just a day of celebration. It’s a day of gratitude. It’s a day where we realize our accomplishments were not only made by ourselves, but through the support of the people around us. When I built this hotel, I vowed to each of my guests that they would always have a room here, that they could place their trust in me. And in turn, I placed my trust in them. Without you, my guests, my friends, my family, I wouldn’t have been able to host this gathering. Because of you, this hotel got an exceptional rating that made not only our staff proud, but the entire country.”

There was a round of applause echoing through the large room, while a few local reporters took the moment to snap a few pictures. It quieted down again when Alex cleared his throat and raised his hand.

“I especially wanted to thank someone in particular. She is unfortunately no longer with us, but we will always remember her as one of our most esteemed guests who visited this hotel since it first opened. She’d written me a personal letter saying she had this wonderful young man who was very willing to come and work for me, who I now see as one of my most trusted employees. I am so grateful to have known her and am honoured to have her daughter remembering her amongst us tonight.”

He raised his glass, along with everyone else in the room, and held a toast to her mother’s name. All she could do was play along with a frown. Alex Turner was not the man she’d expected him to be. It all felt very forced.

“This hotel… It might hibernate from time to time, sink back into the swamp. I think the cyclical nature of the universe in which it exists demands that acquiesce to some of its rules. But we’re always waiting there, just around the corner, ready to make our way back through the sludge and smash through the glass ceiling, looking better than ever. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Have a nice night, cheers.”

The last part of his speech seemed oddly specific and she could tell it was a pointed remark. She just wasn’t sure who it was directed towards. Turner didn’t wait for the second round of applause to get off the stage, instead opting to immediately grab a flute of champagne from a tray one of the waiters was holding. “He can be so dramatic sometimes,” someone to her right chuckled.

Glancing over, her eyes found the face of a man she’d probably describe to have the most British face ever. Not unattractive in any way, his hair cut short and his hazel eyes locking hers in a warm and kind-hearted sort of embrace that made her feel immediately at ease. “You’re Miles Kane,” she blurted out. He smiled, “Correct. And you must be the ‘honoured’ guest I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she said with a strained chuckle. “Only good things,” he winked. The corners of her mouth quirked up. She now understood why people chose him to be mayor, even if it was only because of his charisma. “I presume you already knew about the hotel review as well?” she continued curiously. He nodded, “They asked me to give a bit of a statement for the papers. Alex told me beforehand, though.” She hummed in interest, while her thoughts wandered back to that morning where she’d only then found out about the cause of the night’s celebration.

She’d casually strolled into the dining hall where most tables had either been removed or pushed against the walls of the room. At the back, the big stage had been cleared out and now only held a microphone and a few chairs. “You look happy today,” she commented, taking a seat at their usual spot. Matt looked up at her, silently sipping his coffee as he slid a newspaper towards her.

‘The Grand Tranquility Hotel was well reviewed; rated an exemplary four stars out of five. Mayor Kane states his joy, proclaiming “it’s unheard of.”’

She smiled, “That’s fantastic! Congratulations, Matthew.” Matt waved his hand bashfully at her. “So, that’s what the whole ‘gathering’ is about. Did you already know about all of this?” “I did,” he answered, “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, miss. Mister Turner was pretty set on keeping things private until everything was set to go.” “That’s quite alright,” she replied. However, deep down she knew the predominant reason why no one had told her, thinking back to the argument she’d had with the hotel owner just the night before. They didn’t trust her, no matter how kind they were being.

“Speaking of, how are the preparations getting along?” she wondered. Matt sighed and set his fork which was still piercing a heaping amount of eggs back down on his plate. “In all honesty, miss, there’s still so much that has to be done. Nick is out looking for more temporary personnel after some cancelled at the last minute, Jamie’s preparing everything in the kitchen and you already know what kind of chaos it’s like when he’s stressed and I’m just making a list of the things I still need to figure out before the gathering. We’re not used to doing this sort of thing with a limited amount of staff, so we’re all a bit disconcerted.”

She glanced down at the notepad he had been scribbling on. “Then allow me to help. I might not be an expert party planner, but half of the things you’ve mentioned on there I can manage.” Matt shook his head, but before he could protest, she shot him a strict look. “Look, I’m offering you my services here, like you offered yours. I won’t tell mister Turner a thing and if he does find out for some reason, I’ll just tell him I was helping a friend out.” He smiled at that. “Alright then,” he finally agreed, “But you’ll have to promise me Alex doesn’t notice anything.”

And with that, she spent the afternoon moving furniture, decorating, dusting, vacuuming, tidying and all the works. She’d even aided Jamie after he’d had a breakdown over accidentally burning the cake that was sitting in the smoking oven. Using one of her mother’s trusted recipes, she’d baked him a new one that had tiers, icing and everything while he continued working on the appetizers. It resulted in him spinning her around and giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

She glanced over where her creation now stood proud and tall on a pedestal. Well, proud and tall with heaping chunks missing from it. “Jamie really outdid himself this time,” Miles commented, taking a bite of the sponge on his plate, “This cake is the best I’ve ever had.” She didn’t argue with him, because she felt Jamie deserved more credit for his work. Even if it wasn’t exactly his.

Her eyes roamed over the assorted crowd. They were what she’d expected them to be; stereotypically ritzy and exuding money. She wondered if that’s why Matt, Nick and Jamie were so adamant on letting her know she was too kind to them, because all other folks they had to deal with were like these. They weren’t the type of people to have a normal chat. Oh no, these were the personas who whispered and were opinionated about everything. When you’re so filthy rich you only hang out with the wealthy who are as impeccable as you, all forms of judgement you’ve got left is directed nit-picking and slanderous gossip.

She heard people comment on her dress, hair, makeup, she could name it all. But none who reported it directly to her. It was just loud enough so she would think it was a whisper and she wouldn’t be sure who it was from.

It was while wandering around when she finally heard comments that weren’t being made about her, but about something that most definitely interested her.

She reached for a glass from a waiter and smiled to him in thanks as she casually pretended to look for someone in the crowd while her ears picked up the conversation happening behind her.

“You know what I think?” A woman muttered, “I think this whole night is just a charity cause. He’s trying to petty us into giving him funds so he can continue his bland excuse of a hotel.” Another man joined in, “I don’t think that’s true. Did you hear his speech? He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s going bankrupt. His little act of intimidation was rather mournful, though.”

“He’s trying to cover up a lot of things, from what I’ve heard,” the same woman stated as a matter-of-factly. She let a short, yet effective pause draw out to spark their interest, before she continued. “A little birdie told me that the poor fellow got his heart broken. Got addicted to gambling because of it, lost all his funding and then some in one night.” They gasped dramatically, and she’d heard enough.

Like the person who had been observing her from across the room, had seen enough.

She came across Matt as she moved towards the exit, who gave her a questioning look, to which she simply responded that she was tired from everything the day had brought her. “I understand, ma’am,” he said, before he gave a small smile, “I can’t explain how grateful I am-“ “Don’t worry,” she interrupted him, “Like I said, I was just helping out a friend.” She gave his arm a kind squeeze.

He called after her, “Oh, if you see Alex, tell him I’m looking for him! I’ve been finding too many empty glasses where I’ve seen him.”

As she closed the door of the hall behind her, a wave of silence washed over her like a cold breeze. She had a headache and she was sure it wasn’t because of the champagne. A walk would do her some good.

It was as if her feet had known what she was thinking, because she found herself in front of the picture with her mother in it. She actually found some of the faces to be familiar now, probably through having passed them during the party. Her eyes moved back to inspect the man between Matt and Jamie. It was a gut feeling that told her she should find out more about this particular person.

She heard the shuffling of feet beside her, but she’d half-expected the noise so she didn’t even flinch. “Got enough material for your book?” He slurred.

She blinked at Alex, the little respect she’d held for him slowly but surely dripping away like water from a tap that’s been leaking. “How could I have enough material when you won’t even tell me anything about your bloody hotel?” she shot back.

He scoffed, leaning against the wall. He clearly wasn’t sober enough to keep his balance. “You don’t need me to find out about all the details now, do you? You’ve clearly been making your own assumptions through the stories from my loyal guests.”

She raised her brows in surprise as she took a daring step towards him. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Being able to observe people is a real writer’s trait, is it not? Always keen on finding the truth, even when it’s been covered by decades of dust and grime. It’s what makes for a good book.” He pushed himself forward until he was directly in front of her. He smelled like cigarettes and expensive whiskey. “The only thing you’ve done so far is brush the surface of that grave. You’re just another cheap journalist looking for a good story to get your job back.”

His words stung and before she knew it, so did her hand.

She really hadn’t meant to slap him. She wasn’t one to slap people. Yet, it had been her body’s first instinct. It was as if a gravitational force had pulled her palm to his cheek in a very violent way. She could’ve just held his face for all she knew, if it hadn’t been for the anger rushing through her in that particular moment, inducing her decision-making to be more erratic.

He almost didn’t seem fazed at all. He just looked at her. And in the flicker of a moment, she thought she’d seen an ounce of remorse in his eyes. It was right before they turned stone cold again.

“Leave,” he hissed. She was at a loss for words. When he got no response, he audibly made his request clearer. “Leave. You’ll pack your things. And you’ll be leaving, tonight.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” a voice proclaimed from behind him. She turned to look at Matthew, who was joined by Jamie and a distressed-looking Nick. Miles stepped out from the hall as well, closing the doors behind him to give them some form of privacy.

“Our guest has decided to shorten her stay with us,” Alex stated, his eyes not leaving hers, “If you could take her to the train station in a bit, Matthew.”

“The hour is late, Alex. There won’t be a train till morning,” Matt simply replied. “Then you can drive her all the way back home, if you must,” Alex snarled, while running a hand through his dark hair.

“I’m sorry, Alex. But she’s staying.”

Matt didn’t hold his usual backtalk. It seemed he was more tired and disappointed than angry. When Alex realized none of his friends were going to take his side, - not even Miles made a comment - he stormed back into the dining hall and slammed the door. She could distantly hear him yelling, telling everyone the party’s over. When he was done and people started shuffling out, he disappeared around a corner.

She noticed Matt’s jaw clench as Miles let out a deep sigh. “I think it’s best if I stay around for a while,” he simply said. As Nick led him to the front desk to hand him a key, Matt placed an arm around her shoulder while his eyes remained directed towards the same hallway Alex had drunkenly stumbled off through. “Come on, miss. Let’s get you back to your room. It’s been a long night.”

#Alex Turner x reader #Arctic Monkeys #tbhc #The Last Shadow Puppets #TLSP #AM #Wpsiatwin #Matt Helders #Jamie Cook #Nick O'Malley #Miles Kane #Reader Insert #Fanfiction #Romance #Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino

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alwayschoosechocolate · 5 years

Text

One-night stands and one-shot chances (Part iv)

University AU

Pairing: Jin x reader

Who says sex has to mean anything? Who says you can’t just screw around without all the heartache? Who says only guys get this privilege? What happens when the biggest playboy on campus suddenly meets his match and gets a taste of his own medicine?

Genre: casual sex, mentions of sex, bestfriend!Hoseok, onenightstand!Jin

Wordcount: 2000

Masterpost with the other parts of the story can be found here (x)

Tag list: @esplosionedicoloriintesta @jeonjunggoodgod @rjsmochii @spookidema @pariz-lover @mymochimchimmy @friedclamtoadbanana @cloudyelizabeth @livesmileandstaystrong

A/N: Tumblr has been fucking with me and deleted parts of this update so many times.. I lost count of how many times I rewrote it, and I feel like parts of it never really got back again. I'm only on my phone these days, so I have no idea, how long it is either, but I feel like it's rather short unfortunately - sorry! I'll make up for it in the next update!

The whispers heard from two rows behind you were only getting louder, and it had reached a point that made even Jimin send them a sour look.

Your focus, however, was solely on the professor in front of the board and the notes you were scribbling down. Rumors and bitchy comments were nothing new to you. Being part of the royalty on campus, as Hoseok and his mates were called because of the small spire on the house, came with a lot of attention, and being Hoseoks best friend had made you an honorary member as well.

"I swear to God, if they make any more comments about your hair, I will pull theirs out," Jimin mumbled under his breath, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Jimin, just leave it. If the best they've got is comments about my hair" - you shrugged your shoulders - "let them have their fun."

"Can't you please just talk back one time? I don't want them to think they can treat our friends like this."

Jimin was fidgeting in his seat and his voice had reached a whiny tone, but the reason for his demeanor was anything but cute. He wanted to fight back. He hated people for not respecting his friends, and he knew Hoseok wouldn't have hesitated to clap back at the girls. However, you hated people fighting your battles, and even though Hoseok did it all the time, it always resulted in arguments between the two of you. The rest of the guys had learned not to challenge you on this.

"Not yet, Jimin," you hummed, eyes still on the papers in front of you. Mumbling under his breath, he leaned back in his seat with crossed arms, settling for absorbing their voices, so he would know, which girls to add to his non-shag list. No way, he was sleeping with them, when they treated his friend like that, he thought with a huff.

"I don't get why she doesn't have any self-respect. She must really have some issues," one of them whispered a bit too loudly, definitely wanting you to hear her. "I mean, can't she see that she is ruining her life?"

"That's rich," you snorted loudly, finally turning around in your seat and putting a hand on Jimins shoulder in the process, keeping him from jumping at the girl. "Coming from you." You locked eyes with the girl in charge of most of the comments and sent her a sinister smile. "When is your due date again?”

Hearing Jimin snicker at your comment fueled you on further and the missing response from the girl only added to it.

"Your daughter must really be looking forward to getting a younger sister," you cooed in feigned interest. "I just feel bad, they don't get to have that idyllic family life you always talked about. But then again, family is what you make it, with the people you chose to have in it, right? Who am I to tell you, how to live your life?"

Sending her one last icy look, you turned back to the board, still hearing the girls whispering, but for a completely different reason this time. Everyone knew her on campus. She had made it her mission to spread the word of God on campus, which involved celibacy, no alcohol and for some reason also no sea food. Funny thing is, she didn’t see the double moral in herself being pregnant with a second child from a different guy. Instead, she had made it her life mission to preach about how sex ruins both body and mind, ruining you for the future. And Y/N was her favorite target.

"You're alright?", Jimin asked, as they walked to the café for their free period. It was drizzling a bit, covering the campus in a grey curtain, leaving you and Jimin alone, as everyone scrambled to get out of the rain.

"Of course. It's nothing new."

Throwing an arm around Jimins waist, leaning on him, as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You walked a bit in silence.

"Come on, I'll buy you a coffee," he smiled, pulling you into the warm café.

You bought your drinks and Jimin even bought you a muffin as well, and you found a table in the back, where you could lay out your books on the table to talk about some assignment, you had to hand in next week.

"Btw," Jimin interrupted you in the middle of a sentence. "Did you hear anything back about the job yet?"

"No, not yet," you mused, with a small smile. "But I'm sure they just have a lot of applicants to get through."

As true as that might be, it had also been two weeks since they were supposed to get back to you. Knowing that you weren't going home between semesters, you had always opted for working or doing internships, and this year one of the professors on campus was working on a big project and needed help. Not only was it a great way of earning some money and experience, the professors field of study was exactly what you wanted to go into yourself. It couldn’t be more perfect actually!

That is, if you got it.

You hadn't told anyone about it - not even Hoseok. A thought, that still made you a bit uncomfortable, since you normally shared everything. Jimin only knew, because your application had gotten mixed up with some notes, you shared with him.

"I'm sure, you'll get it," Jimin offered with a sweet smile and a warm hand on your arm. "They would be stupid not to take you in."

"I don't know," you smiled at him. "You've been getting better grades than me lately. Maybe you should apply, Jiminie?"

He snorted out a laugh, falling on to the table while he giggled.

"Yeah, right. Me, in a lab coat all summer? No, thank you."

Joining in his laughter, it took af few seconds for the both of you to calm down.

"Besides," he added, eyes turning sincere again. "The only reason, I get good grades is because of your help."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, trying to pull your arm away from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip, making you look up into his smiling eyes.

"It's true, Y/N." His voice had gotten lower, and you felt your breath hitch at the close proximity of his face. "I couldn’t have made it through this last semester without you."

Letting yourself be hypnotized by his sweet words and demeanor, you suddenly realized who you were sitting across from.

"Aish, Jimin," you exclaimed in annoyance with an awkward laugh, snapping out of the trance. "Stop flirting with me! I already promised, we would work together on the year end project."

"Right," Jimin smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck. "The year end project."

You had already turned back to your books and started suggesting topics for the upcoming assignments, when you got interrupted.

“You know, I’m not normally into the whole drowned-rat-look,” a sly voice commented, making both you and Jimin look up to see Jin walking towards you with a cocky smile. “But you really make it work, cupcake.”

Rolling your eyes at both his presence and words, you kept your gaze trained on the books on the table.

“Normally, I’m not into cocky guys with a nice body,” you retorted in a flat voice without missing a beat. “And you are no exception.”

“Ah, you think, I have a good body, doll?”, Jin cooed, as he dragged an extra chair to the table, making himself comfortable.

“Yeah, it does a perfect job of covering up all that sexism and…” – pausing to send him a confused look, you cocked your head at him – “Oh, I’m sorry. What are your other traits again?”

Hearing Jimins laughter fill the air, you sent Jin a cold smile, getting an annoyed look back.

“Damn. That’s cold, baby.” Jins voice was strained, trying to keep the tone light, but you easily picked up on the shadow of hurt looming in his eyes.

“But not uncalled for,” you reminded him, gathering your stuff and saying goodbye to Jimin, before walking out into the rain again.

Asshole. Thinking he could just go back to joking around again, after calling you a whore. Huffing a bit in anger, you walked towards the library to study there instead.

“Y/N!”

Groaning at the sound of his voice, you just kept walking.

“Hey. Wait up!”, Jin shouted, putting a hand on your shoulder, when he reached you.

Whipping around in annoyance, you saw him stumble half a step back in surprise at your sudden movement.

“What, Jin? What do you want?” Your voice was anything but welcoming, and if he had taken just two seconds to think about what he was about to do, he should have known better.

Oh well.

“I wanted to talk to a pretty lady, and you just happen to fit that bill,” he grinned at you, making you roll your eyes.

"Oh, lucky me! I get to be your designated whore of the day," you exclaimed in feigned excitement.

"What? No, that's..."

"Cut to the case, Seokjin. I'm not in the mood today." Crossing your arms in front over your chest, you sent him an impatient look.

"Well, erm." He coughed awkwardly, searching for the words. "I just wanted to apologize. You know, for calling you..."

"A whore," you stated, giving an evil smirk, when you saw him visibly tense at the sound of it.

"Yeah, that." He mustered every ounze of sincerity he could before continuing. "I'm sorry, I did that. It was uncalled for."

His eyes searched yours to see if you accepted the apology, but was hurriedly cast down by the sound of you clicking your tongue.

"Yeah, it was uncalled for. So why did you?" Curiousity taking over, you still wanted to know why, despite the anger.

Seokjin awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to come up with an explanation. Dammit! He shouldn't feel this uncomfortable in front of you. Get it together, Jin!

He was at a loss, so he did what he knew always worked. Or used to work at least.

Straightning up a bit, he sent you a shameless grin.

"You're just so hot, doll! I don't like the idea of other men seeing that body," he winked at you, reaching for your hand.

The second, the words left his mouth, he knew he was screwed. And if his own intuition was enough, he was about to find out.

"Oh, I see!", you cooed at him, smiling sinisterly, when you saw his frightned expression at your tone. "You think, because I slept with you once, you own me."

Jin looked like he had just been pushed out of a cliff, and was now frantically searching for somewhere to hold on.

"What? No, that's not..."

His comicly widened eyes and pouting lips made him look almost too innocent.

Almost.

"Shh," you shushed, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Let me tell you something." Tightning you grasp on his jaw, you saw his eyes widen in surprise. "I am not someone for you to stick your dick in like a flagpole. You do not have, or will ever have, any claim on me. Got it?"

Your stern eyes bore into his startled ones. Despite the height difference, you had no problem displaying your position. It made Jin feel powerless, and he really didn't like being in that position. It made his blood boil, and his brain go into overdrive.

"I don't need to claim you," he spat out, venom suddenly present in his voice. "You've been with so many that you're basically public property by now."

Feeling his own blood run cold at his words, he pushed your hand off his face, looking at your shocked features defiantly.

"You should feel lucky that I even payed you any attention after getting my share," he stated with an annoyed huff, before turning around and basically speedwalking away from you, heart thumbing in his chest.

Oh, he was so screwed..

// Part v //

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thegreatpikminzx789 · 4 years

Text

The Silver Warrior - Etrian Odyssey IV: Chapter 3

Ao3|Wattpad Summary: The Refulgent Guild gathers in the Outland Count's room to discuss some recent news about what's happening, and an investigation seemingly going nowhere is now tasked to them. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter AN: Slowly... getting... things done... Haven’t even updated this thing since 2018, that’s how much life has distracted me. Also sort of my own fault for having multiple projects, but still. More than likely gonna write the rest of the plot down for this one, before I lose any track of where I’m going with it. I also did have an idea for Albert to be an Imperial Scribe and not an Imperial who fights, as I had came up with last night and still somehow managed to keep in my head til this morning. Also also; Zesiro (merely mentioned by name) (c) @theshatteredrose

Just as swiftly as they left their guild house, Kibigami, Logre, Shirota, Wufan, and Baldur entered the Count's room, as the other members of the Refulgent Guild turned their heads at their arriving guild members and prince of the Cloudy Stronghold.

"Heya guys! Hello Mr. Prince!" Anai called out, waving her hand in greeting. Shirota waved back while Baldur made no motion to wave back, but still greeted the purple haired Medic, knowing she'd probably pester him unless he actually said hello back to her.

Shirota wastes no time moving over to where Korey is, who smiles upon seeing her again, motioning for the dancer to sit beside him. "Boy, am I glad to see you again, Korey. Today felt like I was on a wild ride..." The Dancer greeted as she sat next to the brown haired Highlander, hearing him chuckle.

"That's usually exploring the labyrinth in a nutshell, Shirota. How does today make it any different than the last?" He inquired, causing the dark skin Dancer to giggle in return. "There's always a time and place for discussing such a topic, isn't it?" Korey's eyes gazed away, as if to contemplate her words for himself...

Well, when she puts it that way, yes. Yes there is a time and place for it. Just not now...

As Frederica and Shirota greeted each other, the Fortress couldn't help but feel like they were missing someone, looking around the room and recounting the numbers of guild members in the room. "What's keeping Albert so long? He should've been here along with Baldur and the others..." Sakuma groaned, rubbing her hand on her head as if feeling a headache coming on, before feeling Baldur place a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

"Don't stress out about it." The prince declared. "He will arrive in due time. No need to worry about him too much."

"I wholeheartedly agree, Prince Baldur," The Count spoke, overhearing the conversation between the Imperial Prince and the Fortress. "After all, it's rare to see him stray so far from you, or Logre." He continued, noting the rarity the Imperial Scribe's quite rarity to not be around the two people he's known.

Eventually, the late Imperial shows up, a bit out of breath. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. Had to... settle a little dispute that occurred at the tavern on my way over here." Although Baldur was a little confused over what he might have had to do over at the tavern, the Count easily dismissed his tardiness.

"It's alright, we wouldn't start without you." The Count beamed, as his dog, Margarita, barked as if in agreement. Taking a deep breath and took a few seconds to calm himself, Albert closed the door and leaned against the wall behind him as the Count begins the meeting.

"Now then, let's get to the reason I have brought you all here tonight," He begins, before taking a deep breath, likely to reassure himself of what he's going to tell the Guild standing before him. "As of two weeks from the day the Heavenbringer was defeated, the Explorer's Guild has been getting reports of explorers, both old and newcomers to Tharsis, being kidnapped-"

"K-Kidnapped?!" Kurita interrupted, her surprise quite warranted. The Count turned to face Kurita and nodded, before adjusting his attention back to everyone. "As much as I'd hate to admit it, the seemingly hundreds of reports of how these kidnapped explorers vary quite drastically. Sending guards to these spots just isn't getting us anywhere closer to finding who may be responsible for the kidnappings."

"If they varied so much, why not get the witnesses to just explain how it went?" Yukina inquired after the Count finished his explanation. "We tried doing so with a couple of them, Ms. Yukina, but with so many explorers around, anyone can claim they were witnesses and give us false information. Getting actual information could end up taking months before we'd track who kidnapped the explorers!" The Count argued, rubbing his hand against his head in an attempt to keep his anger in check.

It was clear the Count was getting tired of hearing these reports, and that it has become such a massive burden to his time when he could be focusing on other matters... Margarita placed her head on one of his arms, in an attempt to calm him down. The Count picked up her up and petted her for a little bit, making an effort to calm himself down.

"And at that point, who knows what would happen to the kidnapped adventurers? We have little information on the kidnappers to know what they're planning, or what they're likely after..." The Count spoke up, after taking a moment to relax himself.

"As much as it pains me, I sincerely hope that those kidnappers will be brought down for what they've done. If they hope to put Tharsis' name in vain, then your guild will ensure that does not happen!" His reassuring smile was all that was needed to bring at least some of the people in the room at ease.

"Of course we won't let such a thing happen. If there's one thing I believe in, is that we can work together to stop this." Wufan commented, as a few guild members nodded their heads as if agreeing with the female Vessel. The Count can see their determination in their eyes to stop the crimes being held in Tharsis.

"Pardon me, Count," Baldur pardoned, seeming to have something on his mind. "but has anyone... specific, have any information on why these kidnappings might be happening? With so many people in our guild, it would be in our utmost interest of finding information as quickly as possible to search more effeciently." The Count, although surprised at the Princes' sudden interest, happily beamed.

"A most excellent question, Prince." The Count hummed. "She should be arriving very-"

Almost as if on cue, the sound of the doors opening interrupted the Count mid-sentence and caused everyone to turn their attention to a Nightseeker making their way to the center of the room. Her skin, unlike most of the Nightseekers, was brown in color, hair as white as snow, and from what some of the guild members could glimpse, her eyes were blue in color. She strangely wore clothing meant for male Nightseekers, as her outfit was dyed in red.

"Ah, just in time." The Count hummed, placing Margarita beside him. "Everyone, I like you to meet Elma. She's the one who brought this kidnapping situation to my attention." The Count introduced the Nightseeker.

"I dunno Count," The orange-haired Fortress spoke up. "She looks more manly than womanly. And I've seen female Nightseekers before, she does not look like them whatsoever." Sakuma argued, soon having her eyes meet with the Nightseeker's blue eyes.

"I could say the same about you, ma'am, but I'm not one to judge based on one's appearance." Elma commented, quickly proving Sakuma wrong the moment she spoke. "Besides, this suits me much better than the clothes a female has to wear as a Nightseeker. It keeps me warm and less likely to make me prone to freezing." She continued, noticing Sakuma's eyes easily glance at the ground after the Nightseeker finished speaking her thoughts.

"...O-Okay, I take it back. Sorry about the confusion..." The Fortress apologized, barely hiding her shame as she heard a couple of her guildmates chuckle at her, most particularly, Anai and Miak, the blue haired Vessel. "So, if Elma here knows about the kidnappings, what are we supposed to do, Count?" Frederica asked, seeming to move on from the small situation that occurred.

"Glad you asked that, Miss Frederica. I would like for the Refulgent Guild to work alongside Elma as a mission to stop the kidnappers before this effects the explorers outside Tharsis." The Count explained. "We have no confirmation on what the kidnappers look like, so I'm afraid-"

"Pardon the interruption, Count," Albert interrupted, with a rather questionable tone of voice he doesn't express all that often. "Are you really suggesting we team up with this... random Nightseeker, who may or may not be one of the kidnappers in question?" He inquired, possibly flabbergasted by the mere suggestion of someone joining with the Refulgent Guild to help in this investigation.

Elma glared at the questioning Imperial Scribe, but refused to say anything regarding his question. Although everyone didn't have a chance to express their thoughts on the matter, it didn't help that they had no idea on what the kidnappers are like, so it wasn't wrong to simply place Elma in good light right away just because she was the one who brought it up to the Outland Count. Albert did prove that he was the essential smarts of the group, as much as Anai hated to admit that fact.

"As the Empire's Imperial Scribe, I'm afraid there's a line I have to draw when it comes to working with strangers; especially if that involves kidnapping." Albert continued, getting a scoff from the black haired female Imperial standing next to her. "Oh, knock it off, Albert. It's rude to just assume something of someone we don't even know yet!" Lysandra argued.

Gods, the way this woman argued with him was already grating on Albert's nerves. "And I'm just doing what's best for us, and for Tharsis, Lysandra! I don't need any of your back sass, miss-"

The sound of a weapon hitting the wall interrupted Albert and Lysandra's argument, turning their heads to see Logre standing right beside them. "Will the both of you be quiet and stop arguing? We're getting nowhere when you're bickering each other's heads off!" Logre growled, getting frightened faces from both Imperials.

"Sorry, sir..." The two swiftly apologized, gazing away from Logre. Logre's face soon shifted into his casual grin he always had when he was still called 'Whirlwind', lowering his weapon and sat back down, satisfied now that the argument diminished.

"Well, that's one way to settle down an argument..." Yukina commented, turning her attention back to the conversation at hand, noting to herself never to get on Logre's nerves like that.

"Hiraku may have doubts about Elma, but welcome Elma to guild with open arms!" Hiraku hummed, as the light blue haired Vessel nodded in concurrence. "S-Same here. It would be better if we just set aside our doubts and work together to stop these kidnappers before the whole town gets flipped upside down with the lack of explorers." Miak added, timid though she may be.

The Outland Count then turned to face Korey, about to ask him something. "You don't need to ask twice, Count." Korey hummed. "We'll bring those wrongdoers to justice and see to Tharsis' safety." He added as Shirota and Frederica nodded.

"Excellent, I knew I can count on you guys." The Count cheered with excitement. "Margarita and I wish you all the best of luck out there, and to stay safe from those kidnappers. They may target you at any time, so don't let your guard down for a second!" He added with worry clearly evident.

Margarita barks, as if in agreement with the Count. "Got it. We'll do our best!" Anai said, rather confident they'll handle this task.

"Well then, this meeting shall be adjourned." The Count declared, with the assignment explained to the guild before him. He followed it up with, "The search will start tomorrow, so get some shut eye, everyone."

With how late it was, it would be rather risky to attempt to acquire information right away. That would also be prime time for a kidnapping, especially if a victim were too tired to be expecting anything. Bigger in terms of numbers should hopefully make things less difficult for the kidnappers to get a drop on.

The Count turned to discuss with the white haired Nightseeker. "Elma, feel free to accompany the Refulgent guild in their home for the night, should it be easier for you."

The Nightseeker seemed to take the recommendation to heart. "I'll take up that offer, Count. Beats having to constantly rest at an inn..." Elma hummed, looking at Korey, who seemed to quickly get the idea just from her looking at him. He nodded, as if to give her the go-ahead to stay in their guildhouse.

Everybody starts chatting to themselves as all but a few individuals make their way back to the guildhouse. The Count called for Margarita and the canine followed him obediently to a room away from the racket. Sakuma gazed out the windows for a bit, before standing up at last, sighing as most of the noise seemed to leave the hallway.

"I've never thought such a day would come when explorers would get kidnapped from here of all places... Here I thought we brought peace and quiet after what we pulled in the Cloudy Stronghold..." The fortress spoke aloud.

"It's not that rare of a dirty tactic, if I may be honest."

Korey's response surprised Sakuma, turning to face him.

"People will do anything to cause some sort of chaos. Whether it involves getting information on treasure, kidnapping loved ones, hell, even holding them for ransom..." The highlander continued, speaking like he had been in one of those situations before. His eyes drifted back to the floor, glancing at the ring he had worn since his many travels.

"Oh..." Sakuma seemed to catch onto what Korey felt, almost feeling sorry that she may have brought back terrible memories. "S-Sorry if this is bringing up any horrible memories, I didn't mean-"

Korey shakes his head, motioning for the fortress woman to calm herself. "It's fine," He reassured her. "I've moved on from those past events. Right now, the most that we can do is locate the source of the kidnapping, and sever it right at it's roots."

The Highlander motioned for Elma and Sakuma to follow him, since they'll need all the sleep and prep they need to start the search. Logre soon followed behind them, as well as Baldur.

"Say, my Prince?" Albert called out to the Imperial Prince, as the blue haired Imperial Scribe approached him. "What is it now, Albert? We're going to be left behind if we don't hurry up." Baldur groaned at the Imperial's persistence.

"I know it's not in my personal power to bring back mentions former Imperial allies, but..." Albert began. "Do you think that Silver-cladded Imperial will ever show up again?"

It had been some time since that Imperial left to explore the land outside...though the crash was what made it difficult for him to swallow. Considering that Imperial was one of his favorites, alongside Logre... It was hard for him to tell if someone even lived the airship crash or not, and he personally didn't want to cast light on something so slim of a chance.

"Who knows, Albert?" Baldur sighs, slowly beginning to walk into the hallway, with Albert beside him. "The only thing to go off of is a silver armor that Imperial named Zesiro found. And while both me and Shirota are praying that she's alive somewhere, why do you ask?"

The Imperial seemed to muse that question to himself for a while. "...I just wanted to reassure myself that everything will be alright, that's all. I miss seeing her every day back in the Stronghold..." He replied after they exit the Outland Court's building.

"So do I, Albert," Baldur sighed. "But none of that matters here and now. Let's table this conversation for another time. Now, let's get some shut eye and prepare to help out for the mission ahead."

The princes' calm, yet assertive voice seemed to bring Albert out of his nearly focused state. "Yes, my Prince." Albert replied, seeing the prince catch up with the others before catching up with them.

#etrian odyssey iv #eoiv #eo4 #etrian odyssey 4 #writing

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jcmorgenstern · 5 years

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@superohclair oh god okay please know these are all just incoherent ramblings so like, idk, please feel free to add on or ignore me if im just wildly off base but this is a bad summary of what ive been thinking about and also my first titans/batman meta?? (also, hi!)

okay so for the disclaimer round: I am not an actual cultural studies major, nor do I have an extensive background in looking at the police/military industrial complex in media. also my comics knowledge is pretty shaky and im a big noob(I recently got into titans, and before that was pretty ignorant of the dceu besides batman) so I’ll kind of focus in on the show and stuff im more familiar with and apologize in advance?. basically im just a semi-educated idiot with Opinions, anyone with more knowledge/expertise please jump in! this is literally just the bullshit I spat out incoherently off the top of my head. did i mention im a comics noob? because im a comics noob.

so on a general level, I think we can all agree that batman as a cultural force is somewhat on the conservative side, if not simply due to its age and commercial positioning in American culture. there are a lot of challenges and nuances to that and it’s definitely expanding and changing as DC tries to position itself in the way that will...make the most money, but all you have to do is take a gander through the different iterations of the stories in the comics and it’ll smack you in the fucking face. like compare the first iteration of Jason keeping kids out of drugs to the titans version and you’ve got to at least chuckle. at the end of the day, this is a story about a (white male) billionaire who fights crime.

to be fair, I’d argue the romanticization of the police isn’t as aggressive as it could be—they are most often presented as corrupt and incompetent. However, considering the main cop characters depicted like Jim Gordon, the guys in Gotham (it’s been a while since I saw it, sorry) are often the romanticized “good few” (and often or almost always white cis/het men), that’s on pretty shaky ground. I don’t have the background in the comics strong enough to make specific arguments, so I’ll cede the point to someone who does and disagrees, but having recently watched a show that deals excellently with police incompetence, racism, and brutality (7 Seconds on Netflix), I feel at the very least something is deeply missing. like, analysis of race wrt police brutality in any aspect at all whatsoever.

I think it can be compellingly read that batman does heavily play into the military/police industrial complex due to its takes on violence—just play the Arkham games for more than an hour and you’ll know what I mean. to be a little less vague, even though batman as a franchise valorizes “psychiatric treatment” and “nonviolence,” the entire game seems pretty aware it characterizes treatment as a madhouse and nonviolence as breaking someone’s back or neck magically without killing them because you’re a “good guy.” while it is definitely subversive that the franchise even considers these elements at all, they don’t always do a fantastic job living up to them.

and then when you consider the fetishization of tools of violence both in canon and in the fandom, it gets worse. same with prisons—if anything it dehumanizes people in prisons even more than like, cop shows in general, which is pretty impressive(ly bad). like there’s just no nuance afforded and arkham is generally glamorized. the fact that one of the inmates is a crocodile assassin, I will admit, does not help. im not really sure how to mitigate that when, again, one of the inmates is a crocodile assassin, but I think my point still stands. fuck you, killer croc. (im just kidding unfuck him or whatever)

not to take this on a Jason Todd tangent but I was thinking about it this afternoon and again when thinking about that cop scene again and in many ways he does serve as a challenge to both batman’s ideology as well as the ideology of the franchise in general. his depiction is always a bit of a sticking point and it’s always fascinating to me to see how any given adaptation handles it. like Jason’s “”street”” origin has become inseparable from his characterization as an angry, brash, violent kid, and that in itself reflects a whole host of cultural stereotypes that I might argue occasionally/often dip into racialized tropes (like just imagine if he wasn’t white, ok). red hood (a play on robin hood and the outlaws, as I just realized...today) is in my exposure/experience mostly depicted as a villain, but he challenges batman’s no-kill philosophy both on an ethical and practical level. every time the joker escapes he kills a whole score more of innocent people, let alone the other rogues—is it truly ethical to let him live or avoid killing him for the cost of one life and let others die?

moreover, batman’s ““blind”” faith in the justice system (prisons, publicly-funded asylum prisons, courts) is conveniently elided—the story usually ends when he drops bad guy of the day off at arkham or ties up the bad guys and lets the police come etc etc. part of this is obviously bc car chases are more cinematic than dry court procedurals, but there is an alternate universe where bruce wayne never becomes batman and instead advocates for the arkham warden to be replaced with someone competent and the system overhauled, or in programs encouraging a more diverse and educated police force, or even into social welfare programs. (I am vaguely aware this is sometimes/often part of canon, but I don’t think it’s fair to say it’s the main focus. and again, I get it’s not nearly as cinematic).

overall, I think the most frustrating thing about the batman franchise or at least what I’ve seen or read of it is that while it does attempt to deal with corruption and injustice at all levels of the criminal justice system/government, it does so either by treating it as “just how life is” or having Dick or Jim Gordon or whoever the fuckjust wipe it out by “eliminating the dirty cops,” completely ignoring the non-fantasy ways these problems are dealt with in real life. it just isn’t realistic. instead of putting restrictions on police violence or educating cops on how to use their weapons or putting work into eradicating the culture of racism and prejudice or god basically anything it’s just all cinematized into the “good few” triumphing over the bad...somehow. its always unsatisfying and ultimately feels like lip service to me, personally.

this also dovetails with the very frustrating way mental health/”insanity” or “madness” is dealt with in canon, very typical of mainstream fiction. like for example:“madness is like gravity, all it takes is a little push.” yikes, if by ‘push’ you mean significant life stressors, genetic load, and environemntal influences, then sure. challenge any dudebro joker fanboy to explain exactly what combination of DSM disorders the joker has to explain his “””insanity””” and see what happens. (these are, in fact, my plans for this Friday evening. im a hit at parties).

anyway I do really want to wax poetic about that cop scene in 1x06 so im gonna do just that! honestly when I first saw that I immediately sat up like I’d sat on a fucking tack, my cultural studies senses were tingling. the whole “fuck batman” ethos of the show had already been interesting to me, esp in s1, when bruce was basically standing in for the baby boomers and dick being our millennial/GenX hero. I do think dick was explicitly intended to appeal to a millennial audience and embody the millennial ethos. By that logic, the tension between dick and Jason immediately struck me as allegorical (Jason constantly commenting on dick being old, outdated, using slang dick doesn’t understand and generally being full of youthful obnoxious fistbumping energy).

Even if subconsciously on the part of the writers, jason’s over-aggressive energy can be read as a commentary on genZ—seen by mainstream millennial/GenX audiences as taking things too far. Like, the cops in 1x06 could have been Nick Zucco’s hired men or idk pretty much anyone, yet they explicitly chose cops and even had Jason explain why he deliberately went after them for being cops so dick (cop) could judge him for it. his rationale? he was beaten up by cops on the street, so he’s returning the favor. he doesn’t have the focused “righteous” rage of batman or dick/nightwing towards valid targets, he just has rage at the world and specifically the system—framed here as unacceptable or fanatical. as if like, dressing up like a bat and punching people at night is, um, totally normal and uncontroversial.

on a slightly wider scope, the show seems to internally struggle with its own progressive ethos—on the one hand, they hire the wildly talented chellah man, but on the other hand they will likely kill him off soon. or they cast anna diop, drawing wrath from the loudly racist underbelly of fandom, but sideline her. perhaps it’s a genuine struggle, perhaps they simply don’t want to alienate the bigots in the fanbase, but the issue of cops stuck out to me when I was watching as an social issue where they explicitly came down on one side over the other. jason’s characterization is, I admit and appreciate, still nuanced, but I’d argue that’s literally just bc he’s a white guy and a fan favorite. cast an actor of color as Jason and see how fast fandom and the writer’s room turns on him.

anyway i don’t really have the place to speak about what an explicitly nonwhite!cop!dick grayson would look like, but I do think it would be a fascinating and exciting place to start in exploring and correcting the kind of vague and nebulous complaints i raise above. (edit: i should have made more clear, i mean in the show, which hasn’t dealt with dick’s heritage afaik). also, there’s something to be said about the cop vs detective thing but I don’t really have the brain juice or expertise to say it? anyway if you got this far i hope it was at least interesting and again pls jump in id love to hear other people’s takes!!

tldr i took two (2) cultural studies classes and have Opinions

#wow this was a hot fucking mess #i tried to be organized but my thoughts weren't coming out super well #again anyone interested please feel free to jump in or correct me at any place you feel like #i die on the ''jason todd would be treated horribly by fandom if he were a character of color' hill tho #i could go on about 1x06 until im blue in the face but that's the uhh overview. the executive summary.#dc titans #i need meta tags and shit for this show #god help me in too deep #finding the meta side of fandom was a GIFT tho i love this shit #so excited

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vnshkk · 5 years

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Let's talk about Kyo's media blackout.

It is with a slight reluctance that I post this. It's not wise to mention Tanuki online nor share what they talk about within the overseas fandom for a multiple of reasons.

1. I don't want them to get angry at me

2. I don't want the overseas fandom to flip out and judge the Japanese fandom

3. I just want everyone to be chill and happy and flowers

But I've seen a lot of people freaking out, a lot of random theories floating around and people worrying so I wanted to post this theory and open it for discussion.

Of course this isn't fact. It's pure speculation. But given the timeframe, PERSONALLY I feel like this may have had something to do with Kyo decision.

So I post this with two DISCLAIMERs.

1. As mentioned this is not in any way fact. There is no proof that Kyo does or doesn't look at Tank. I simply find it interesting the sequence of events, the timing of the media blackout and I am only translating this for those who are interested. I hope this doesn't cause any huge arguments or any bad blood. It's simple here to discuss and consider.

2. Please do not judge the whole fandom based on Tank. Just like any forum, any comment section on the world wide web; there will be people who leave negative feed back. It is a tiny portion of people and not a reflection of the Japanese fandom as a whole. Judging them based on what they said would be like someone looking at negative comments or sarcastic jokes on Tumblr and judging the English speaking fandom. That's not to say what they post is okay, but it's just dumb shit posting and shouldn't be taken to heart.

you get me fam?

Okay, so I contemplated posting screenshots and translating what happened immediately after Kyo changed his profile picture up to when he deleted everything but as I said I don't want to be taken out by angry tank users so I'm just gonna translate a selection of posts.

These posts are taken from the Meg thread (remember the girl linking arms with him at a concert? That's Meg.) which to be honest is a shit show. It was a thread born from those notorious pics and for over a year now has remained a place where people post rumours, shit talk, complain and just make shit up a lot of the time. So please, AGAIN, bare that in mind. It is a place of negativity born from a scandal that shocked a lot of the fandom. Aint nothing nice ever gonna be said there. Periodt. In reality a lot of the people who post there are still fans of Kyo. I think they're just still a little hurt by the way it came to light about Meg.

After Kyo posted his new picture I checked tank before going to bed because I was curious about what their reactions would be and everyone had exploded. During the 7 hours I was asleep Kyo deleted everything and left the internet forever so tbh given the fact he was probably bored in a hotel in Fukuoka, just did a radio show, probs wanted to see peoples reaction, etc I personally, believe he was on Tank. This is a running theme in the thread itself and people often say he actively browses it (this is not a major thing, a lot of guys in bands browse tank same as celebs browse twitter. Why Kyo would look at the meg thread in particular? idk. )

SO TLDR

Yesterday around 7pm the thread suddenly changed to mixed reactions after Kyo changed his Twitter pic.

"His new twitter icon had me shook lol"

"I hope he changes his instagram one too"

"Idk I don't like how quickly he's become some kind of social media old fogey"

"Kyo's turned into a social media monster too" (*edit; my bad Yuchi is beer monster, Shinya is social media monster lol)

"It's kinda cheap"

"I get you, it's like he's lost his values" (probably because Kyo has always made big deal about how much of himself he shares)

It continued like that for a while with people more or less saying the same thing until he posts about leaving social media.

"He just suddenly said he's not gonna do social media anymore"

"lol after he went to all the effort of changing his profile picture"

"I'm shook"

"annoying 40 year old nut job"

"Bet you he came on here"

"Do you normally change you icon then quit"

"Join Kyo online"

"idg why even though Kyo's had so many haters since he first started twitter he's suddenly affected by it??"

"I still think he's cute even when he's sulking like this lol"

"I knew he was looking at Tanuki"

"I don't get why he's suddenly deleting it after all this time?? It's like what is this old man on about?"

"It's lame how he's making such a big deal of out saying he's quitting"

(lots of people agreed with this post saying that he's acting childish)

"I wonder what happened? Like everything seemed fine recently. I mean we'll never know but like I'm sure he has a lot going on.."

"I can't believe he basically wiped his instagram clean but left all the pics of cake and omurice lmao"

"If only he'd go to sleep earlier and eat a banana the serotonin would fix everything"

The random comments and mixed reactions continued for all of Friday. One of the main points that stuck out after the initial reactions was how people began to become suspicious that this was merely a tactic to get people to join Kyo online with people claiming this was typical of business man kyo, that it was about that time of year where they usually begin to advertise and promote in order to get new members.

So, allow me to play devils advocate for a second. As someone who is a member of Kyo online I have to admit since he started posting more and more online (compared to hardly ever on Kyo online), the membership has become more or less invalid. In the past it was worth the money for the videos and pictures that as fans we rarely saw. But if he's going to post them online then it raises the question (tickets to concerts aside) is there any point in being a member if you can just get the content for free? I'd imagine that this plays some kind of role in why the reactions are often negative. Members of Kyo online have suddenly gone from having something exclusive that was only for them, to simply being a part of something anyone can access.

Another point someone brought up is that whilst it's acceptable for Kyo to be upset. It is very, very childish and the timing is selfish. Sukekiyo literally made their instagram days ago and suddenly Kyo states how he isn't going to post online anymore. This act instantly casts a negative feel on Sukekiyo's insta. It almost gives a vibe that any picture Kyo is in might be "against his will". Kyo is not new to criticism. He's been in this game for 20 plus years. Everyone who is in the Indies scene knows about Tank. Every fan, every bandmen, knows it's a bad place filled with mostly shit posting and rumours and doesn't represent fans a whole.

The meg thread is simply fans flogging a dead horse, posting any poor Japanese girl with a straight fringe and some tattoos, anyone who looks even a little like Meg and saying she MUST be a groupie of Kyo. Which begs the question why would Kyo go there? Why would he look at that? Why would he want to subject himself to that kind of thing and then punish the majority for some dumb comments a few bored fans made? What was he expecting by going there?

Of course there is no proof Kyo lurks. But the reality is he probably does, I mean he's only human, he' s bound to be curious about fans reactions for Madara, etc and where else to get honestly reactions than an anonymous forum? Personally, as someone who has lurked tank for a few years now, I think he reads it. There have been times in the past where he's mentioned certain things, done certain things and I've thought "hmmm that's weird tank was literally talking about that". But once again there's no proof. It's just one of those vibes you get sometimes. (one major one I can think of is during the interview for mode of gauze where he said everyone massively complained about it. I know people can submit questionnaires after lives but I feel that a lot of Japanese people are more brutally honest when they can hide behind anonymity. )

Considering the "staff" posted a pic of his feet on the sukekiyo instagram today, I feel like this is just Kyo being (sorry to say) butthurt and it might just blow over. A lot of the comments mention his age, mention how he's clearly trying and failing to copy 20 year olds by using insta, that he's lame or cringe and that's gonna hurt anyones pride. But I honestly think Kyo should be looking at the billions of comments on instagram of people who love him rather than a few trolls online.

So with that being said I hope this was an interesting read and gave a little insight into why Kyo is often private. It was a big deal that he was posting so much and actively using instagra. I for one was very happy. I believe that in this day and age it is something that is required in order to engage with your audience and keep a good relationship. Hazuki and Ruki are good examples of this and Ive been saying for the longest time I wish Kyo would get more on board with it. So it's a shame he's left at the first hurdle.

Oh well. This is why we can't have anything nice isn't it.

#Kyo #dir en grey #instagram #translation #sukekiyo #drama I don't like drama why can't we all just be chill #remember this isn't fact its just my theory

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alphacenturian4 · 5 years

Text

The Bible is a Catholic Book review

By: Ramon Aguilar IV

This is a book review of the audio version of Jimmy Akins apologetic book the Bible is a Catholic Book. Published by Catholic Answers & purchased through Audible. This book goes through a general and basic history of the bible; both Hebrew Old Testament & Christian New Testament. It seemed to be aimed at someone who has never read the bible before or someone whom is completely unfamiliar with the history around & surrounding the composition and proliferation of Biblical scripture and Judo-Christian texts.

Before I give you my review, I need to acknowledge some basis on by behalf. I am Roman Catholic, I am in good standing with the Church, I am Lay-Religious, I do pray the Liturgy of the Hours, and Jimmy Akin is my favorite apologist. Not just of Catholic apologists, but of all the current youtube and actively working published apologists of all Faiths & Denominations Jimmy Akin is my favorite. Shabir Ali, Darma Speak, David Wood, & James White, being the rest of my top five.

So it pains me to say that this wasn’t a great apologetic work. I have other works by Jimmy Akin that are much more informative and impactful. Now, mind you, I might not be the intended audience as I have been studying the bible using critical, historical, & philosophical methods since I was 15 & I am now 39. The Catechism, bible dictionaries, different bible translations, study bibles, Dead Sea Scroll collections, Gnostic Bibles, The Puedopigripha, & The church fathers are familiar and part of my personal library collection. And understand that most Christians only read parts of bible and few people will ever read the whole bible all the way through themselves even once. And I also understand that disinformation about the Bible is rampant online and on youtube. But that does not dissipate the disappointment I felt listening to this book.

The audiobook is only five hours long and if you are familiar with the bible at all, having read any intro material to a mainstream Study bible; or, If you are reading this to evangelize or for the propose of apologetics you will be severely disappointed until the last 2 hours of the books, and in fact you wont get any interesting ideas to chew over or conversation pieces to debate with your non-catholic friends until the very last hour of this book. The history outlined goes from Pre-Biblical sources, through each major division or grouping of biblical text, through the history surrounding the deuterocanonical or apocryphal books, the new testament in order of composition, the apostolic fathers and then post Biblical textual developments including mentions and brief apologetical dismissals of Gnostic, Pseudepigraphal and other heretical works. And all of that would make you think this is a heavy work, a magnus opus of apologetics. But sadly it is not. Short works, such as the USCCB’s essential guide to the Holy Bible, which is less than 90 pages long covers just as much if not more martial than Jimmy Akin does in 200 pages.

The title of this book is also highly misleading. It implies that this work will contain proofs and arguments for the Catholicity of the Bible yet all it gives are brief passes to claims only the most conspiratorial, radical, and lunatic fringe world make against the Catholic Church’s relationship to the Bible. To paraphrase James White (speaking of other apologetic works by other authors), “this work [by Jimmy Akin] is lacking depth, and has little to no Textual nor Suppositional proofs to support its claims.” There are no premises within this work that relate to the magnitude put forth in by its Title. This book proves nothing. The evidence presented is elementary, the argumentation is nonexistent, by the time I finished the book I wasn’t even sure this book was apologetical. While it was informative, I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone who was over 18 years old and had already read the bible all the way through once in their life. On the other hand if you are under the age of 18, and have never read the bible or never been able to finish reading the bible, or are completely unfamiliar with religion, any religion, then this might be the book for you. But I have read encyclopedia entries with more relevant and lively information about the Bible and its history than this book presents.

This book was released in 2019 and it took me one week to get through. I can only assume that it was originally written as an intro to the Bible and then at some point, in its production, its propose and length changed to become an apologetic proof to the claim, which I myself argue for, that the New Testament Bible as it exists today in all good scholarly translations was composed, edited (redacted), transcribed, complied, & interpreted by Catholics. The Bible truly is a Catholic book.

I have heard many apologist on YouTube of the atheist and non-Catholic type to make the opposite claim and to make amazing and astonishing arguments as to why the the Bible is not a Catholic book. I was hoping that this book would help illuminate a better path for refuting such disinformation and propaganda. Unfortunately this book is a pebble of Truth thrown against a rolling boulder of anti-Catholic conspiratorial rhetoric.

I would give this book a 2 out of 5 star rating. Instead of wasting your momey on this book I would recommend; the NRSV New Oxford Annotated Bible with Apocrypha 5th Edition, The NAB Catholic Study Bible Third Edition, or St Augustine’s Confessions if you want better arguments for the Catholicity of the Bible and The Catholic Church’s role in forming the Bible. On the other hand, if you are reading this because you like Jimmy Akin, I would recommend two of his other works, Teaching With Authority, or The Father’s Know Best.

Thank you. Peace, like, subscribe. Comment down below. Let’s have a discussion.

#Catholic #Catholicism #Jimmy Akin #The Bible Is A Catholic Book #book review

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lesbianchemicalplant · 6 years

Text

Love to be cis and regurgitate transphobic misinformation about how Transitioning Is Too Easy And Accessible Without Really Thinking It Through These Days and Big Trans Is Allowing Children To Do Irreversible Things With Their Bodies They Grow Up To Regret

Imagine how disconnected from trans people you need to be to think that trans people are being traumatized by being allowed to transition too early and too easily, and that we’re not “presented with other options or lives to lead” by pretty much fucking everyone around us.

And this is one of the more widely-followed (cis) lesbians on this site.

I’ve posted all this before, but if anyone is seriously wondering about “Children And Teens Doing Permanent Thins To Their Bodies!!!’, her fearmongering flies in the face of established scientific knowledge and actual medical practice (if you think there’s actually anything true to “transitioning too early is so easy and so many people end up with regret”, please read)

Puberty blockers deliberately provide a lengthy period of time for the careful consideration of an individual’s gender identity and developmental course. These are long-acting injections or implants which temporarily prevent the development of the permanent physical changes that accompany puberty. This treatment does not have permanent effects – it is described as “completely reversible” in medical literature (de Vries & Cohen-Kettenis, 2012) [emphasis mine]. Instead, this protocol delays puberty for a number of years while the child and medical professionals can consider whether more permanent transition treatments like hormone therapy or surgery are appropriate. A child or teenager has the option of discontinuing puberty blockers if they decide they don’t want to transition; their own puberty can then proceed as normal. Such cases have been described by pediatric endocrinologists (Shumer, Nokoff, & Spack, 2016):

“A 12-year-old biologic male presented to the gender clinic after referral by a mental health professional. The child had been having dysphoric feelings about his male pubertal development, and was found to be at SMR rating 3. Treatment with a GnRH agonist was initiated. The child continued in therapy and by age 14 had developed a better understanding of their gender identity. The child accepts that they do not identify completely with a male or female gender identity, and begins to refer to themself as genderqueer. They prefer to be referred to using the them/they/their pronouns. After discussion with the family and mental health professional, the decision is made to withdraw the GnRH agonist medication and allow male puberty to progress with continued supportive counseling in place.”

If this protocol really did inexorably guide every child into a more permanent medical transition, this period of extended consideration would not be standard clinical practice. This time specifically serves to identify those youth who will stop experiencing dysphoria and will not want to transition. While Julie Bindel and others may speculate at length about how they “might” have pursued a medical transition, there is every indication that even if they had ever received puberty blockers, they would have had ample opportunity to recognize that transitioning wasn’t what they wanted.

Contrary to these media depictions, puberty blockers and transition treatments are not delivered in a scattershot or reckless manner. While Ditum asserts that 80% of children with gender dysphoria will lose this dysphoria in adolescence, this isn’t simply a spin of the roulette wheel. During the extra time provided by puberty blockers, extended evaluations are conducted to observe the course of an adolescent’s gender identity development, reliably distinguishing those who will continue to experience dysphoria from those who will not (de Vries & Cohen-Kettenis, 2012):

“During the diagnostic trajectory, information is obtained from both the adolescents and their parents to assess whether the adolescents meet the eligibility criteria. Therefore, first it is ascertained whether adolescents are suffering from a very early onset gender dysphoria that has increased around puberty, or whether something else brought them to the clinic (e.g., confusion about homosexuality or transvestic fetishism). About one quarter of the referrals in Amsterdam do not fulfill diagnostic criteria for GID and most of them drop out early in the diagnostic procedure for this reason or because other problems are prominent”

There are various specific factors that are recognized as potentially related to an individual’s likelihood to persist in experiencing dysphoria (Steensma, Biemond, de Bohr, & Cohen-Kettenis, 2011). These factors can be of diagnostic value during treatment:

“Starting around the age of 10, and for the subsequent years, the persisters indicated that their cross-gender preferences and behaviour and their gender identity remained stable, but that their dysphoric feelings intensified. The intensification of gender dysphoria was attributed to three factors; (1) Certain changes in their social environment, (2) The anticipation of and/or actual physical changes during puberty, (3) The first experiences of falling in love and discovering their sexual orientation.

… In desisters, the gender discomfort gradually decreased over the course of grades 7 and 8 (age 10 to 13). Both boys and girls indicated that their changing interests and friendships, and the physical changes during puberty made the gender discomfort diminish and eventually disappear. The desisters also reported that their first experience of falling in love and awareness of sexual attraction were factors that resulted in the disappearance of their gender dysphoria.”

One key component of this diagnostic process is that these youth are allowed to experience the earliest stages of their original puberty, which can be critical to their developing understanding of their gender (de Vries & Cohen-Kettenis, 2012):

“If the eligibility criteria are met, gonadotropin releasing hormone analogues (GnRHa) to suppress puberty are prescribed when the youth has reached Tanner stage 2–3 of puberty (Delemarre-van de Waal & Cohen-Kettenis, 2006); this means that puberty has just begun. The reason for this is that we assume that experiencing one’s own puberty is diagnostically useful because right at the onset of puberty it becomes clear whether the gender dysphoria will desist or persist.”

In effect, Bindel, Ditum, and others are baselessly criticizing these medical providers for supposedly failing to do something they have in fact been doing all along. Again, even if these individuals had undergone treatment with puberty blockers, this protocol would likely correctly determine that transitioning would not be appropriate for them.

…

Modern diagnostic criteria also make a clear distinction between clinically significant experiences of dysphoria, and a simple discomfort with cultural gender roles or desire for the social privileges afforded to another gender. The American Psychiatric Association’s DSM-5 (2013) states:

“Gender dysphoria should be distinguished from simple nonconformity to stereotypical gender role behavior by the strong desire to be of another gender than the assigned one and by the extent and pervasiveness of gender-variant activities and interests. The diagnosis is not meant to merely describe nonconformity to stereotypical gender role behavior (e.g., “tomboyism” in girls, “girly-boy” behavior in boys, occasional cross-dressing in adult men). Given the increased openness of atypical gender expressions by individuals across the entire range of the transgender spectrum, it is important that the clinical diagnosis be limited to those individuals whose distress and impairment meet the specified criteria.”

The APA’s DSM-IV-TR (2000) similarly specified as part of diagnostic criteria for gender identity disorder that individuals experience “A strong and persistent cross-gender identification (not merely a desire for any perceived cultural advantages of being the other sex)”, and further explained:

“Behavior in children that merely does not fit the cultural stereotype of masculinity or femininity should not be given the diagnosis unless the full syndrome is present, including marked distress or impairment.”

Professional clinical guidelines for the diagnosis and treatment of gender dysphoria explicitly warn against misinterpreting gender nonconformity alone as an indication that dysphoria is present. The speculation that these treatments serve to target gender-nonconforming cisgender gays and lesbians is completely unfounded and contrary to modern medical practice.

Bindel and others imagine that they would have been guided toward transition if they were children today, and while this is vanishingly unlikely under current practices, suppose that all of these individuals ultimately did transition during puberty. What would the outcome be for them? Multiple studies have found no cases of persistent regret among youth who were treated with puberty blockers and later went on to transition (Cohen-Kettenis & van Goozen, 1997; de Vries et al., 2014). It’s also been found that after treatment, this group experiences psychiatric symptoms such as depression and anxiety at a rate no higher than that of their cisgender peers. These commentators must invent hypothetical cases of regret because of the lack of any actual cases of regret that would support their argument. But what is supposed to be regrettable about this outcome – that a happy and well-adjusted transgender person exists?

Cis people would rather that a million trans people go without medical access than one cis person go on puberty blockers, reidentify with their AGAB, and finish puberty with no real lasting side-effects from those puberty blockers.

The OP of this particular post is widely followed on the cis lesbian side of tumblr. The notes on this post have a lot of TERFs, but also a lot of other cis lesbians who just happen to agree with this misinformed, transphobic tripe.

Incidentally: one of the TERFs in the notes also reblogged this post repeating the Gender Dysphoria Desistance Myth:

The ~study~ they link heavily cites data from Kenneth Zucker’s clinic, i.e. literal conversion therapy performed on trans youth, which is largely responsible for where all of this kind of “Genuine Concern” about “Not presenting dysphoric youth with other options” comes from in the first place.

If cis lesbians could stop repeating misinformed and transphobic talking points about ~How Such Easy Access To Transition Is So Harmful To Dysphoric Cis Afabs And Is Basically Anti-Lesbian Conversion Therapy UwU~, or thinking that being dysphoric themselves makes them ~basically have as much a stake in these issues as trans people do~, that would be great!! :)

#lesbian #wlw #trans woman #lgbt #gay #transphobia #transmisogyny #garbage #rebloggable #my posts #billnihilism #cis lesbians #nonsense and evil #terfs #blocklist #sespursongles

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ghostlywritten · 6 years

Text

When I Was Your Man VI.

Words: 7k+

Thank you for all the reviews, anonymous comments and likes. They’re greatly appreciated.

I II III IV V

I headed downstairs after quietly getting ready, shaking Antoine awake before leaving. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood to face him so I merely told him I would wait downstairs to check out.

Rummaging through my bag I made sure our tickets and passports were there before scrolling through my phone aimlessly and looking around, watching other people; anything to get my mind off of my situation.

Slowly the other footballers trailed down with their wives and girlfriends, checking out at the front desk before settling around me with small greetings, their hangovers too present for them chat up storms with each other like they usually would.

I waved at Jennifer as she stopped next to me with a half-asleep Giroud draped over her and she tiredly smiled back without a word.

Chuckling, I wondered how it usually was the other way around with me being the one too tired to talk.

Antoine finally arrived in sweats and a simple shirt, his hair tousled and blue eyes half-closed as he searched around the crowd. Spotting me, he trudged over with his suitcase behind him.

“Why didn’t you wait in the room for me?” Antoine asked sluggishly, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his hands. I melted slightly at this cute sight, but quickly pulled myself together.

I shrugged, taking the keys from him. “I’m gonna check out for us,” I said without answering his question and he furrowed his eyebrows when I left.

Checking out, I took my time getting back, only fastening my pace when I saw the last person of our group arrive, which was the coach.

“Alright, ladies,” Deschamps clapped his hands together, gaining everyone’s attention, “Let’s head for our next destination.”

“Why does he call all of us ladies?” I wondered. Mbappe and Pogba, who had been closest to me, chuckled quietly, “It’s how he always calls us, even during training.”

I nodded, noticing Antoine head over from my peripheral view. “You guys want any painkillers?” I asked, holding up the two pills I had gotten from the hotel staff. I originally planned to give them to my husband but decided against it.

“Hell yeah, do you have some?” I gave them the two and they thanked me gratefully.

“Hey Ads, do you have some more of those?” Antoine asked hopefully and I shook my head, “Nope, sorry.” He deflated into a pout, but I ignored him and walked ahead.

We drove towards the airport with a shuttle bus, got ourselves checked in and settled down in the waiting area after the security check.

The entire way I barely spoke a word to my husband, too tired and quite frankly pissed at him to care if I was behaving like a bitch. He kept trying to start up a conversation - or a light-hearted argument like most of our conversations was - but I simply agreed with everything he said to stop the talk as soon as possible.

By the time we got on the plane, he was looking like a dejected puppy trailing after me so even the hungover Giroud pair noticed with raised eyebrows. I simply shook my head at them, sitting down on the seats behind them.

Antoine sighed, laying his head on my shoulder. “Did I do something I don’t remember?”

“Hm?”

“You seem angry at me,” he said quietly and I sighed. I was angry at many things about him, but it wasn’t like I could voice it out.

“Let’s just say...you are a messy sleeper when you are drunk and I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I lied and his head shot up, “I didn’t do anything to you, did I?”

'Except for falling asleep on me and making my heart race...' “No, you were just the Patricia last night instead of me.”

He sighed in relief before chuckling, “So you are just grumpy because you are sleepy again.”

“Yep,” I said, turning towards the window as the plane started moving. Antoine yawned next to me, settling back down against my shoulder, “Don’t worry, you can sleep at the hotel in a few hours.”

And with that he fell asleep, drooling over my shirt.

Arriving at our hotel room I was more exhausted than ever so just like our previous arrival to the other hotel we took a nap before dinner.

“We’re quite the old couple,” Antoine chuckled as we headed downstairs,” Always sleeping around. Even Gran is more fit than us.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed, eyes wandering around the hotel decor.

“...Ads, are you sure you are not mad at me about something?” Antoine questioned, gently holding me back by the elbow before I could open the door to the diner.

“I’m absolutely sure yes.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“Nope.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“No.”

“...was that-”

“For God’s sake, Antoine, everything is perfectly fine!” I exclaimed in exasperation, pushing the doors open. He flinched away and thankfully said nothing for the rest of the way to our table, as usual where the Giroud pair was dining.

“Good evening,” Jennifer greeted us, back to her usual self. Her hangover had obviously been cured since she was already nursing a new glass of wine.

“Good evening,” I greeted back, almost wishing I wasn’t obligated to sit next to my husband when he settled down next to me.

“Did you sleep well?” Giroud asked and I nodded, starting up a conversation with him and Jennifer, Antoine opting for staying quiet most of the dinner. I had a feeling the other two could tell there was some tension between us but thankfully didn’t comment on it for now.

“So, Ads. I’m determined to change your mind about our boring training,” Giroud said and I sighed, shaking my head with a smile, “We have a practice session until 2 PM tomorrow. You can sleep until whenever and join us later.”

“Or we could do other stuff like exploring the city,” I suggested, “That sounds more interesting.”

“Uhh yes, exploring cities!” Jennifer agreed, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

“Wife, be on my side,” Giroud ordered with playfully deep voice and I chuckled. “You can go explore for the rest of the day, come on!”

“Fine, I will give your training one more chance,” I said and he pumped the air in success, causing his wife to giggle.

Antoine grumbled, “How is it so easy for him to convince you but for me it’s harder than shooting a goal against Real Madrid?”

I gave him a look and he narrowed his eyes in exasperation, “What did I do now?”

“Nothing,” I said again and he sighed heavily before he turned back to his food, moodily.

“Is everything alright?” Jennifer asked, a little worried.

“All good, we’re just tired,” I reassured.

“Yeah, Ads and I are going to sleep early,” Antoine said, abruptly standing up and holding his hand out for me to take. Confused I took it and got swept off by him in no time, “See you guys tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of dinner!” Antoine called over his back as he marched out of the diner with me getting dragged along.

“You can let go of me,” I said, not wanting to get used to the warm feeling of his hand around mine. He pretended not to hear until we reached the elevator, only letting go when the doors closed.

“I know why you are mad now,” he stated and I raised an eyebrow.

“I told you I’m not mad, I’m just tired.” ‘Tired of getting hurt by you.’

“No no, I get it. You have every right to be,” he said earnestly, putting his hands on my shoulder to turn me towards him. My heart raced. Did he figure out that I knew?

“...I do?”

“Yeah, I would be mad too if someone forgot my birthday.”

“...my birthday?” I asked, wondering if I had heard right. He nodded, his eyes wide and apologetic. I thought back on what date today was. Though that actually didn’t matter, it was summer and I was pretty sure my birthday was on a winter month. December to be exact. And it was June. “Why on earth would you think it’s my birthday today?”

“I know it is and that’s why you’ve been grumpy all day,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I promise I will make it up to you. We could go to a nice restaurant tomorrow for dinner. You like Chinese, right? We could look up some cool places for Chinese food...” His words faded away when realisation struck me. Cateline’s favourite food was Chinese. I could absolutely not stand it. And it was also her birthday today.

I pushed him away, dread filling me as I took out my phone to check the date for good measure. 18th June, yep. It was Cateline’s birthday today.

Closing my eyes, I swallowed, hoping to gulp down the burning feeling in my chest as I prayed for the elevator to get to our level faster.

“...there’s also a good Italian place, you like that too, right?” That was actually my favourite food.

Sighing, I laughed humourlessly to myself, which finally stopped his chatter. He rubbed my arm in what he probably hoped to be comforting, “What do you think, hm? It would be just us, nice and quiet, no party. I promise!”

“I’d rather not, thank you,” I declined, bitterness clear in my voice.

“Huh? Why not?” he frowned in confusion.

“Because it’s not my birthday.”

“...No?” he asked meekly.

“No,” I said, looking straight into his blue eyes to make sure he knew how pissed off I was right now. He gulped, mumbling something like ‘I was sure it was today..’ under his breath but I ignored him in favour of finally getting out of the small space as the elevator doors opened.

“...Then...how about we celebrate what an idiot I am tomorrow?” he tried some damage control as I gestured for the keys. He dropped them into my palm and I quickly put it in the lock, trying not to get reminded of how he had hugged me from behind last time.

“No, thank you.”

“An apology dinner?”

“Antoine, if I could I would sleep in another room, away from you,” I said coldly and he winced, “So what makes you think, I would want to spend time alone with you?”

“I-” I didn’t stay to listen to his answer, opting for locking myself in the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I sat down on the toilet seat, biting my lip as a wave of tears tried to push past my barrier. It might have been harsh of me right now, but I didn’t know how else to handle the pain I felt. Alas, I lashed out, feeling a sick satisfaction in hurting him when he hurt me. I sunk my teeth into my fist, not being able to stop a few droplets from falling. Sighing heavily I leaned back and looked up into the ceiling, wondering how much longer I would be able to handle this.

The next morning I woke up to a cold bed with the sun beaming down on my face. I had taken a shower after my small breakdown and when I had gotten out, Antoine had already been asleep, curled up on his side with his back to me. Remembering last nights happenings, I took a long breath in, blowing it out as my chest deflated with the movement.

I didn’t feel like getting up, but a knock on my door forced me to change my plans.

“Good midday!” Jennifer greeted me with her beaming smile. I looked at the clock.

“It’s 11 AM, it’s still morning.”

“For sleepy heads like you perhaps,” she retaliated.

“...Touché,” I said back, opening the door wider for her to get in. She strolled inside, setting down the two cups she had brought with her along with a small paper bag.

“I brought you coffee and some croissants since there’s not much of breakfast left,” she informed, plopping down on the seat in front of the mini desk. I smiled at her gratefully, “Thanks. Just let me get ready real quick.”

Brushing my teeth and hair, I quickly changed my clothes, applying some makeup as well. “It’s going to be warm today, right?” I asked, stepping out of the bathroom with shorts and a thin shirt on.

Jennifer nodded in approval, “Real hot. And yes, I’m talking about the weather.” I chuckled, blushing slightly. She nudged her head over to the messy bed with a smirk, “I see you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Glancing over in confusion I cocked my head to the side, “What?”

“Well, look at how messed up your sheets are! You had a wild night, didn’t you?” The heat in my cheeks intensified, “O-oh no, no. Nothing like that.”

“Suuure,” she said, nodding quickly and I scratched my head. How was I going to tell her that it had been a very cold night in bed last night without going to deep about my marriage life? “Don’t tell me about it then,” she shrugged off as she saw how uncomfortable I was and got up, “Let’s head to the stadium. You can eat on the way, right?”

“Right.”

We headed over to a bus station that would get us right to the front of the stadium. The hotel was specifically equipped with shuttles driving to and from there for the football fans. Thus, there were many tourists around as well, occasionally taking pictures when they recognised us.

“This is really weird,” Jennifer commented, smiling awkwardly at a few paps, “I mean, we are just the wives. Why would they need pictures of us.”

I shrugged, “Something to write about in their magazines, I guess.”

“I will never get used to this, that’s for sure,” Jennifer said, putting on some sunglasses as we got into the bus. I followed her suit, not wanting to read another article about my resting bitch face.

We arrived at the stadium and strolled around it seeing as the team was practicing on the open field for the press and fans.

“There’s quite the crowd,” I commented, “No way, we’re going to be able to watch them properly.”

“Anna texted me where they are,” Jennifer informed, gesturing forward, “There will be enough space for us.”

“Ah...who’s Anna?” I asked, never having heard of her before.

“She’s Mbappe’s girlfriend,” Jennifer giggled, “You really ought to learn their names at some point.”

I shrugged, following her.

“Girls, over here!” A blonde, petite woman shouted, waving us over.

“That’s Anna,” Jennifer said and started listing the other girls’ names as well. As if I would be able to remember them all. Some had kids running around them or babies in their arms and I cooed inwardly at how cute they were when we reached them.

“Hey, girls!” Jennifer greeted them all cheerfully, hugging each of them whilst I stood back, waving awkwardly. I noticed some of them give me quite the dirty looks and swallowed slightly, looking away and towards the field. My eyes searched automatically for my light-haired husband, finding him dribbling the ball by himself. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as he lost control of the ball a few times; he didn’t seem focused like he usually was, especially during games.

“Care to explain to me why Dani and Bella are glaring at you?” Jennifer whispered as she leaned against the bar next to me. I figured she meant the same two girls I had seen glaring and shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never talked to them.”

“Weird,” Jennifer remarked, smiling at them. The two smiled back before resuming their death stares at me, “Should I ask them?”

“No,” I immediately declined, “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Seriously? Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious?”

“I mean, their dislike can’t really be reasonable since I’ve never even exchanged a word with them,” I explained, “So why would I care?”

“Maybe that’s exactly why,” Jennifer mused and I looked at her, questioningly, “I mean that you don’t talk to anyone. It kind of makes you seem arrogant.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, I admit I thought you were snobby when I first saw you at the party,” Jennifer said with a sheepish grin as I stared at her, shocked.

“Really?”

“You weren’t talking to us and seemed a little uptight. Not exactly approachable. Can you blame me?”

I stayed quiet. I knew I was a tad bit arrogant, but never thought it was that bad. Okay, maybe I had been really arrogant before I found out about the affair, but my ego had taken quite the hit. I was more cautious about meeting new people than just plain snobby.

“Not anymore though!” Jennifer quickly reassured when I didn’t say anything, “I know you’re just an introverted nerd now. It’s all good. And the others will come around soon when they get to know you.”

“I guess...,” I said uncertainly when I heard Giroud call out our names.

“Jen! Addy!” He exclaimed, waving cheerfully when he spotted us. I noticed Antoine's head snap over and immediately follow his friend’s eyes until he found us. Waving back at Giroud, I quickly looked away, biting my lip awkwardly.

“You guys sure you are okay?” Jennifer inquired as she finally stopped blowing kisses at her husband, who was comically catching them all. I envied their relationship really. Where had Antoine and I gotten wrong to end up like this? I could safely say that we never at some point acted like these two lovebirds and that was quite a depressing thought.

“Addy?”

“Hm? Yeah, of course. We’re fine,” I answered belatedly, giving her a tight smile.

She looked at me, unsure. “Then why is Antoine looking at you like a lost puppy and ignoring his quite scary Coach yelling at him?”

I glanced up to see she was right. Coach Deschamps was slowly getting red and seemed ready to march up to his French striker. Antoine straightened up when he saw me looking, waving tentatively. I waved back, causing him to sigh in relief and finally notice his Coach’s mad rant. Apologising quickly, he picked up the ball and ran over to his assigned team not without another glance over his shoulder at me.

“...I know, it’s not my place to always ask about your relationship,” I heard Jennifer say, feeling like my ears got unclogged now that his blue eyes weren’t captivating me anymore. “But if you like to talk about it to anyone, I’m here for you.”

I smiled at her, touched by her words and yet a little mistrusting when I remembered Cateline say the almost the exact same words to me once. “Thank you, Jen.” She beamed at the nickname, hooking her arm around mine as we continued watching the practice.

“And? How was it?” Giroud asked as soon as training was done, jogging over to us. He gently kissed his wife before turning to me with an eager look.

I shrugged, playfully answering, “It was meh.”

“Meh?!” the dark-haired striker exclaimed, astonished and I saw Jennifer stifling her laughter. “Just meh??”

“Yeah, it was a tiny bit entertaining,” I teased, leaving a small gap between my thumb and forefinger. He looked at me peeved as the other footballers came over, greeting their girls, wives, and kids.

“Impossible,” he grumbled and I giggled to myself. My smile faded though when I saw Antoine head over, sweating and downing a whole bottle of water in his thirst.

He ran a hand through his locks and I was tempted to do so myself when he gave me a precarious glance, “Hey Ads,” he greeted softly and I nodded back in greeting. Resting his hands on the bar that was separating us, his eyes dropped to his shoes for a second, “Any plans for today?”

“Nothing much. Maybe a bit of sightseeing,” I replied, fiddling with my shirt, “I saw some cool places online. You?”

His blue eyes widened and I almost regretted my indirect rejection of letting him tag along. He looked back down sadly, shuffling with his feet. “Um, I’m just gonna relax at the pool or something with the guys. I’m pretty tired.”

“Good.”

“Jesus Christ,” I heard Giroud mumble under his breath and clapped his friend's back. “Let’s get changed, Anton. We’ll meet you back at the hotel?” he asked us and we nodded in goodbye.

Jennifer thankfully didn’t make any remark on the more than uncomfortable conversation. “Are you going to join me?” I asked her on the way to our hotel.

“I would love to but I promised Olli to spend an all-alone day today,” she said apologetically.

“That’s fine,” I said, reassuringly. I would have to go by myself then.

“You could ask some of the other girls,” she suggested but I shook my head. Walking around with a stranger around other strangers in a foreign country didn’t seem appealing to me.

“No, I’d rather not.”

She shook her head at me with a laugh, “You’d rather walk around alone that make friends?”

“Exactly,” I said with a grin.

I took off with a purse filled with my wallet, my phone, a map of the city and my passport that I forgot to take out.

After a bit of contemplating I took the wedding ring off as well and put it in there, having read that as a tourist you should not have anything expensive on you that would make you a target.

Taking the bus to the central station that was the heart of the city I started my sightseeing trip from there. It was quite relaxing to just calmly stroll around without any rush, listening to music and taking pictures of cool places. There was a cathedral that looked breathtakingly beautiful and I photographed every inch of it from the outside and inside. ‘Antoine would have loved taking selfies with this,’ I thought, feeling bad when I recalled his sad face. We could have enjoyed this day like the one back when we visited campus.

I blushed when I remembered that one kiss we shared. The amount of times I thought about it was actually quite embarrassing.

Shaking my head out of it, I turned a street filled to the brim with people. My eyes lightened up; a bazaar! I squealed inwardly, proceeding to mingle into the crowd. I usually didn’t like crowds but I loved bazaars over everything. It was a totally different experience than going shopping in stores, just...a lot better in my opinion.

Pursuing a few unique trinkets I admired them in the sunlight when suddenly my purse got ripped off my shoulder, causing my arm to jerk and drop the trinket. “What-?” It took me a second to realise a little boy just stole my purse and was currently running away. “Hey! Wait! My purse!” I shouted, pushing past people.

I didn’t know how long I ran after him, panicking every time I lost sight of his dirty, red shirt. No one came to help and I felt breathless way too fast. ‘I really need to work out.’

The crowd dispersed slowly, but it was too late for me to catch him. He probably disappeared through one of the thousand back alleys.

“Ok, Adeline, don’t lose your mind,” I whispered to myself as panicked tears rushed to my eyes, “You’re going to be alright. Let’s just get back the way we got here.”

Easier said than done. That damn boy took so many twists and turns to get rid of me, I had no idea how to get back to the bazaar. Reaching for the map, I cursed when I realised in the purse. Along with my wallet, my phone...”Yeah, I’m a goner,” I sighed shakily, turning around. I tried to listen for any noise, slightly scared of the few people staring at me openly. I didn’t dare approach anyone until I got most desperate, going for an elder lady.

“Can you help me?” I asked her in English and she just looked at me weirdly. Biting my lip, I continued, “Bazaar. I’m looking for the bazaar. Do you know where it is?”

She seemed to get a hunch on what I was trying to say as she started talking rapidly in Russian. Watching her hand gestures, I vaguely got the directions from her and thanked her.

I felt encouraged to ask around others after this, slowly finding my way back to the crowded street. Sighing in relief, I proceeded to ask my way to the Central Station when I saw a stand selling maps for tourists.

“Hi, can I get one of those?” I asked the seller eagerly, taking one where Yekaterinburg was written in bold letters.

“Five dollars,” he said with an accent. My smile faded.

“I don’t have money on me right now,” I said, gesturing widely, “My purse got stolen. I can come back and pay you later.”

“Five dollars,” he repeated loudly, holding his five fingers up.

“I can’t pay right now, can I come back later?” I tried again and he simply shook his head, “Five dollars.” Breathing in deeply, I was tempted to just run with the map in hand, but figured it wouldn’t do well getting arrested here. So I dropped it back on the table disappointedly and resumed my asking around.

Some were willing to help, most were not and many were just outright creepy. I mainly stuck to asking women if I could. By the time I got to the Central Station, it was already early in the evening. ‘Dinner must be ready soon,’ I thought to myself, my stomach growling since I had eaten nothing but the croissant and coffee Jennifer had gotten me this morning. I longingly stared at the food stands whilst looking for someone approachable.

Thankfully, most people could speak English around here and another tourist couple was friendly enough to help me out with an extra map they had, taking pity on my disheveled state.

Since I had no money for a bus back to the hotel, I proceeded the long way back home by foot, closely following the directions on the maps in hopes of not having to ask anyone anymore. It was pathetic how independent I was in life.

It had gotten pitch dark and I figured it was around 10 PM or something when I saw the familiar lights of the hotel. I almost dropped right there on the ground, so glad after this horrifying day and a rush of exhaustion that I had held back so far hit me in a nauseating way.

“Don’t pass out now, Adeline. Only a few more meters,” I motivated myself, the euphoria of seeing something familiar giving me a small rush of adrenaline.

I noticed a police car parked in front of the steps of the hotel when I got there and Giroud walking down. A wide, tired smile lifted the corners of my lips upon seeing him. “Hey Olli,” I called out to him and he looked over, eyes widening as if he had just seen a ghost. I dragged myself over to him when he stood stock still in his shock. “What is it? Never seen me with unruly hair before?” I chuckled weakly, patting down the strands that stood in a disarray.

“Jesus, Addy. Where the hell have you been?” he exclaimed, gaining the attention of his wife, who just came down the steps as well.

“Addy?” she asked, eyes widening similar to her husband before she rushed over, hugging me. “What on earth happened?”

“Long story,” I sighed before thinking, “No, actually not that long. It was just a long day.”

“What happened?” she asked, guiding me upstairs, “You’ve had us so worried when you didn’t come back. Antoine almost went bald from gripping his hair the whole time.”

“A boy stole my purse and I got lost running after him,” I said shortly, “It took me all day to find the way back here asking around.”

“My god,” Jennifer gasped, putting her arm around my back, “That must have been horrible.”

“I was close to panicking, I admit that.”

“Damn. Why didn’t you call?” Giroud asked with a frown and my heart warmed at their apparent worry for me.

“It was in my purse. Along with my wallet and the map I had with me,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

“Let’s just get you in for now. You must be absolutely drained,” Jennifer said, “You can tell us everything tomorrow. Get some sleep now.”

“And inform Antoine, please. He’s going mad,” Giroud added.

“Oh yeah?”

“He even yelled at me for letting you go alone,” Jennifer said and my jaw dropped, “I was shocked, too! Never saw him so angry, it was quite scary, to be honest.”

“Damn right it was. And I wasn’t even on the receiving end,” Giroud commented when he opened the door. I immediately noticed Antoine in front of the reception desk, rapidly talking to two police officers and the hotel-keeper even,

“I’m telling you, my wife is missing! You have to get out there with all your men and search for her!” he demanded loudly, his breathing fast and heavy as if he was close to a panic attack.

“Antoine,” Giroud called him but was ignored.

“Sir, we can only start searching for your wife when she’s been missing for 48 hours.”

“So??”

“It’s been around 9 hours now.”

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? She’s gone around in this foreign city for so long and you don’t think she’s gotten lost?! Do you know what could happen to her in 48 hours?? Or what might have already happened to her- oh god,” he cut himself off, gripping his hair with both hands.

“Antoine-!”

“I will freaking sue you all. My wife is a lawyer-to-be!”

“Antoine-!”

“Antoine,” I called out too and he finally heard, his head snapping around. I took in his wide-blown eyes that had panic attack written all over it, his flushed cheeks and erratic breathing. A second later, he crushed himself against me, tightly wrapping his arms around me. My breath got knocked out by the hit but I gladly returned the gesture, fully relaxing now that I was surrounded by him. Never had I felt so safe before.

“God, Addy,” he whispered brokenly, “Where have you been the whole time? You got me worried sick.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back, breathing in his soothing scent. I closed my eyes, relishing in the calming effect. “My purse got stolen and I was lost.” His grip around me tightened and he buried his face into my hair.

“That must have been terrifying,” he said incoherently, “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I chuckled, “It’s not your fault.”

“That’s right. What the hell were you thinking, going alone and worrying your husband like that, Patricia?” he asked teasingly, smiling into my neck slightly and I knew he had calmed down now. I tried pulling away but to no avail.

“Nooo,” he whined, cutting off the air in my lungs with how closely he held me.

“Antoine,” I laughed slightly, leaning my head against his.

“Like hell, I’m going to let go of you now.”

“Here, I got you a tea,” Antoine said, putting a cup on your night table.

“Thank you,” I yawned heartily.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not right now.”

“I could order room service.”

“Antoine!” I called, exasperated and he stopped his fussing, “I’m fine, really. Just exhausted.”

“Okay,” he sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to me. Closing my eyes, I felt the ache on my feet subside as the weight of my body was finally off of them.

“Tell me again, what happened,” Antoine demanded and I sighed, whining inwardly when my drift to sleeping wonderland got interrupted.

“I went around town, ended up in a bazaar,” I listed, “A boy stole my purse, I chased after him, I got lost, I found my way back.”

Antoine nodded attentively, pressing his lips together. “It’s decided then.”

“What?”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” I chuckled at his ridiculous announcement and rubbed my forehead. “I’m serious!”

“There’s no need for that. Nothing major happened except for my stuff being gone.”

“Nothing maj- My heartattack??” he protested, pointing at his chest. "My hair loss??" he continued, pointing at his luscious locks, "The fact that I threatened the police, which could have put me in prison???"

I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t act like you really care.’ “Don’t act like a drama queen.” He gasped, holding onto his chest and I giggled. “Glad, my misery is such a delight for you,” he pouted and I patted his back. “It is.” He glared and I burst out in laughter that soon turned into a yawn.

His blue eyes softened. “Drink up that tea. You should get some sleep,” he suggested, handing me the cup. I nodded gratefully, taking a sip of the warm beverage. It was fresh peppermint, sweetened with honey. I hummed appreciatively. “This is really good,” I mumbled between my sips, causing my husband to smile weakly.

“The officer said they would be looking for the boy, who stole your purse,” he informed, rubbing circles on my back.

“I doubt, they will find him,” I voiced out my thoughts, “I couldn’t give them much of a description.” I sighed, “Everything was in there. Even my passport...”

“We can get a new one in no time,” Antoine reassured.

“...and my wedding ring.”

“We can- wait, what? Why did you take off your wedding ring?”

“Because ‘Tourism for dummies’ said that you should never have anything valuable in a foreign country because tourists are the most frequent targets for thievery in every country,” I said matter-of-factly.

Antoine looked at me like I was mad, “And that Gucci bag was not enough to make you a target?”

“Well, maybe. But it was the cheapest I had,” I shrugged and he rolled his eyes. “I have expensive taste.”

“Explains why our house costed nearly a million,” he grumbled.

“Oh please, you wanted that house, I didn’t even like it,” I argued and he gasped, “How can you not like it? It’s cemented beauty!”

“Meh, there are better ones,” I said with another shrug.

“You have a weird taste.”

“I chose you as my husband sooo...yep.”

Antoine gasped, but contained his dramatic nature, “I will get you back for that, but for now; go rest, you had an exhausting day.” I smiled at his caring nature, even if it might have been fake, and laid down. He shut down all the lights before crawling to bed beside me.

My eyes practically fell shut by themselves with how heavy they were and I soon succumbed into sleep, feeling a hand search for mine and hold onto it tightly.

Antoine kept true to his words in the most ridiculous way. Forcing me awake early in the morning every day to tag along for practice, resulting in a grumpy me and a few creative curse words thrown at him.

I eventually got used to it and even brought my laptop along to study when his training got too boring. The rest of the time was spent with him stuck like a glue, making sure I was always around up until to the point where he followed me to the bathroom. I shut down that habit fast when he once commented on how much I must have been drinking to pee for so long, listening from the door.

The games came and passed, France making it to the last sixteen, which sent everyone into a super-excited state. Especially today, when Argentine - who almost won the last World Cup - was the opponent. The players were tense and particularly silent throughout breakfast, immediately heading off for some last minute practice when the Coach ordered them, too.

“You should wear Antoine’s shirt,” Jennifer remarked whilst watching me getting ready.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” I asked, looking at my simple, light green attire combined with some black pants.

“Nothing. In fact, I would like to borrow it someday,” she said, giving me her puppy eyes through the mirror. I chuckled, nodding and she cheered, dropping her back against the made bed.

“So?”

“So, I just think Antoine would feel the support more when he saw you in his jersey,” Jennifer explained, picking on her nails absently.

“You think so?” I thought back on how the other girls’ always wore their man’s jersey.

“Of course! I don’t know why either, but Olli, for example, gets some kind of kick out of it, seeing me in his shirt.”

I hummed in contemplation as I walked out of the bathroom. “I don’t have his jersey. Maybe he has a spare one in his suitcase?” I wondered, walking up to his bag. He had left all his stuff in there, not really bothering to put them up in the wardrobe as we were always on the move. Now we were back in Kazan.

Rummaging through his stuff, I giggled when Jennifer shielded her eyes, not wishing to see the infamous Spongebob pants.

“No worries, Jen. I’m sure he’s wearing it now for good luck,” I mentioned, my eyes lightened up when I pulled out his blue shirt.

“There you go,” Jennifer cheered, “Put it on.”

Complying, I quickly took off the shirt and put the jersey on. It was obviously bigger than my first choice, going down until mid-thigh. I smelled his cologne on it when I pulled it over my head, inhaling more deeply than necessary.

“It looks good on you,” my friend - as I timidly considered her to be - commented with a thumbs up and I smiled shyly, taking out my hair from under it.

“We should head down to the bus soon, the others are probably on their way too now,” I said, looking at my watch.

The game was intense, to say the least. I cheered when Antoine scored another goal due to a penalty, but it got deathly quiet in the France corner with us as Argentine took the lead with two goals; one shortly before and after halftime.

Then it got loud again when three shots for France got kicked in the space of 11 minutes!

“That’s my boyfriend right there!” Anna shouted proudly when Mbappe shot his second goal, causing us all to laugh.

The game ended with 4:3 for France, sending them straight to the quarterfinals. I clapped along, the cheers booming around us as Jennifer hugged me in her euphoria. I hesitated before hugging her back slightly, smiling.

Since we were right at the first row, the guys came over instead of heading straight for the cabins after shaking the other team’s hands respectfully. I grew a little nervous when Antoine spotted me, his eyes widening in surprise at my attire.

“Congratulations,” I said as soon as he got into hearing range. He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling in happiness and stopped in front of me, the railings the only barrier between us.

“Thanks...are you...wearing my jersey?” he asked perplexed.

“Yeah, I had nothing else to wear,” I tried to play it off with a shrug but an elbow in the ribs caused me to wince, “I mean, I thought I could support your this way?”

His smile widened if possible and he bit his lip, rubbing his neck. “It suits you. You should wear it at every game.”

“Sure,” I agreed, inwardly sighing in relief. We talked a little about the game until the guys forced him to go to the cabins with them to change.

“Alright, I will see you at the hotel?” Antoine asked and I nodded in agreement. He smiled again before taking off with the others. An arm got placed around my shoulders and I glanced to my right to be met with the face of a slyly grinning Jennifer.

“What did I tell you?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and I chuckled. “I don’t know why, but the guys get crazy whenever their girl wears their jersey.”

“He seems happy about it,” I commented, feeling a bit shy about it.

“He doesn’t seem like it, he totally is,” Jennifer corrected, pointing at the field, “Even now he can’t take his eyes off of you.”

I looked over, catching Antoine’s eyes. He smiled, waving at me before he almost toppled over an Argentine player sitting on the field. I laughed to myself, watching as he apologised profusely and jogged away with a red face.

“That guy is whipped,” Jennifer said and I caught myself before I could nod, my smile fading slightly. ‘Yes, but not by me.’

“Come on, let’s head back to the hotel. I’m sure there will be a celebration party!”

“Dear God, no!” I groaned when she dragged from the stands.

The party was in full swing two hours later. I observed the guys dancing with their wives/girlfriends or getting shit-faced drunk again like my husband next to me.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look in that shirt?” Antoine slurred and my heart skipped a beat at his words. I took a glimpse at the jersey, rolling my eyes when I remembered how he had insisted that I kept it on.

“The only time you ever did was right now,” I commented, “Thanks.”

He gasped in shock, “I never told you, you are beautiful before?!” I shook my head. “You’re the most beautiful human species I’ve ever seen, woman!”

I chuckled at his choice of words, swirling my drink around. “Sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“And I believe you,” I said untruthfully.

“You’re lying,” he accused and I raised my eyebrows. How could he tell I was when he was drunk but not when he was sober?

“Alright, maybe I am.”

“Why don’t you believe me, babe?” Antoine said, grasping the edge of the bar to pull himself closer clumsily. “I really think you’re the most beautiful.”

“I think you will find Cateline more attractive than me,” I dared to say, knowing he would not remember this the next morning anyway.

“Who’s Cateline?” he asked.

I scoffed, “Please.”

“I don’t know any Cateline,” he said with a hiccup, “Is that your mom’s name?”

I laughed, “No. Jesus, you are drunker than last time and it’s only been an hour.”

“Well, I got something to celebrate! Why are you not drunk with me?” he asked, nudging the drink in my hand up to me. “Bottoms up!”

“If I get drunk, who will take care of you?” I asked him teasingly and he puffed his chest out, “I don’t need taking care of. I’m a man.”

“Says the one that has Spongebob underwear on.”

“I have Spongebob underwear? That’s so cool!” I shook my head. This guy would be the death of me if I had to spend the rest of my life with him. But that wasn’t something I had to worry about...

“Hey, what’s with the long face?” he inquired, poking my cheek.

I smiled sadly, “Nothing. I think...I’m just gonna miss you despite everything.”

“Why? I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere,” he announced, holding up his pinky, “Promise!”

Chuckling, I hooked my own against his, “You might not. But I will...” Sighing, I downed the drink in my head, deciding that I wanted to forget about all of it for once. “You know what? Let’s get smashed!” I voiced out, causing my husband to holler.

Next thing I knew I woke up in bed, stark naked.

VII.

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