#whose idea was it to put them together on screen 'cause thank you

[linusbenjamin]

Werewolf By Night 2022 | dir. Michael Giacchino

#marvel #mcu #marveledit #werewolf by night #horroredit #filmedit #elsa bloodstone #jack russell #mcufam #marvellegends #userdiana #tuserpolly #usersameera #tuserpris #nikolatexla #they're so cute pls #whose idea was it to put them together on screen 'cause thank you

[softiem]

you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

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“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face. 

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

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tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #gn!reader

[suneatersupportsquad]

red handed; colby brock

request:  im not sure if you do requests or even any imagines for colby brock anymore but i was wondering if you cold make a exception, so basically the plot is that the reader met colby through kat and since then they hit it off, now their in a secretive relationship the only person who knows is kat but she only knows the reader has a crush on colby. one day everyones hanging out in the same room room and colby is sexting the reader, sams curious to whos hes texting and they find out their dating.

dedication: @whydontweanons​

genre: fluff, subtle smut?

pairing: colby brock x gn!reader

characters: colby brock, sam golbach, katrina stuart, corey scherer, jake webber, kevin langue, brennen taylor, devyn lundy, tara yummy

word count: 1.8k

warnings: alcohol, what would probably be underage drinking, NSFW (barely), sexting (duh), mentions of COVID-19, quarantine

a/n: of course i’ll still write for sam and colby!! it’s just that, since i’m not as active of a follower of them as i used to be, my goal is to write for fandoms that i’m more invested in at the moment. but, honestly, i don’t think i could ever really stop writing for them. i love those boys so much. also this plot made me laugh so hard when i saw it in the best way possible. getting this request honestly made my day, so thank you for that!! anyways, i’m a little rusty, but here we go.

important links: masterlist

find more fics at my new blog @trapboysbunny

You and Colby had known each other for a long time - pretty much since he’d moved to LA with Sam - and you had been involved romantically just as long. You had met him and Sam through Kat on a boring Saturday night when all their friends flaked on coming to a little kickback they were hosting. Trying to be a good friend and cheer the boys up, Katrina had invited you to hopefully kickstart some emotional momentum. Your eyes met Colby’s for the first time and you clicked. Something in your gut had told you that the two of you would end up being close, and it was right. You had hit it off immediately, not taking very long to start laughing at one another’s corny jokes and telling stories over Smirnoff Ice while some random late night show played in the background. From that night on, it was history.

Since then, you two had been practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t sitting on the same room or facetiming, you were definitely texting one another. It became a running joke in your friend group that you two had evolved into a pair of siamese twins, or that being without you gave Colby separation anxiety. The two of you found it even more amusing when you actually began dating, not long after that fateful first night. It amazed the both of you that you were able to hide your relationship so well. No one had a clue. The two of you laughed about it quite often, actually, over late night phone calls and tipsy afternoons spent only with each other. No one knew, and nobody needed to know.

Colby, due to the internet and his fanbase being the way it is, preferred to keep his personal (and especially romantic) relationships more on the private side. His intent wasn’t necessarily to hide his feelings and relationship with you from his friends, but that particular topic of conversation never really came up in your friend group. Everyone had just kind of figured that everyone single would simply date someone when they were ready and tell everybody about it when they felt the time was appropriate. It wasn’t that Colby didn’t want to tell them, he just didn’t see the point in going out of his way to tell all of his friends hey after God knows how long I finally have a partner. He just didn’t want to make a big deal out of your relationship. Knowing his friends, they would definitely make it into some type of big thing, not to mention that Jake would dub the occasion as “cause for celebration” (which was really just an excuse to drink more). So Colby preferred to keep things on the quieter side for you two; neither of you wanted to make your relationship into an object for speculation.

Kat was the only person out of all of your friends to have any knowledge of your feelings for Colby. And thank God for her; if you didn’t have her to gush about Colby to, you probably would have either exploded or died. Or both. And she was there for every single second of it. She loved hearing about your movie nights, your urban exploring adventures, the sweet yet mundane things he would do to make you happy, literally anything. She ate that shit up like a man starved, and you did the same for her and Sam (regardless of the fact that their relationship was public already). You hadn’t told her explicitly about the nature of your relationship with Colby, really just gushed about your ever-growing love for the boy. Unbeknownst to you, she firmly believed that you only had feelings for Colby, clueless to the fact that the two of you had actually been dating for quite a while now. With her “go get ‘em, tiger” comments, along with similar remarks, you assumed that she had some sort of idea about your relationship with Cole, hence why you had never explicitly told her about your secret boyfriend. Kat, being the good friend that she was, never spilled your “secret” feelings to anyone else. Not even her boyfriend.

Eventually, quarantine started up amidst the international COVID-19 pandemic and you had begun practically living with the trap boys. A day without you in the house was enough to prompt concern for the boys, minus Colby who always knew the real reason why you weren’t coming over. This soon became the new normal, you taking a “day off” every few weeks to get tested just in case. At this point, it was almost comical that no one had figured out you two were dating yet.

One particular weekend afternoon, everyone in your friend group was hanging out at the house. You and Colby were sitting on opposite sides of the room, you next to Kat and Colby seated beside Sam. It was particularly warm today seeing as this Saturday landed smack in the middle of the infamous August heat wave, so you had thrown on a tank top and some shorts, nothing to flashy. Colby had dressed similarly, wearing only a muscle tee and a pair of trunks.

You were sat beside Kat, the both of you trying to listen to the story Devyn was telling. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore the way your boyfriend was staring at you from across the room. You looked away from Dev for just a second to shoot him a glare when you realize exactly why he’s looking at you. The speed at which the blood rushes to your face is dizzying, and you drop your head to stare at your lap. Motherfucker- You sigh as you pull your phone out of your pocket. “Quit it with the blowjob eyes asshole,” you type before pressing the blue send button.

You feel his gaze break as his phone vibrates. Trying to ignore him, you refuse to meet his gaze again, putting all of your effort into focusing on Devyn’s story. Seconds later your phone vibrates in your pocket. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the screen reads, and you shake your head.

“Uh huh sure ok.” You pressed send again.

Another few seconds passed and your phone vibrated again. “That shirt looks really good on you.” 

You blushed as you read the message, flustered by the comment. Brows knitting together in confusion, you looked up to find him staring back at you with a dopey grin. You hunched over your phone and sent a message back. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Colby replied, a gray typing bubble sitting under the message. “But you know how it would look cuter?”

You cocked your head to the side and typed out your response. “How?”

“On my bedroom floor.” You almost snorted at that, clamping a hand over your mouth to prevent any noise from escaping. Typical. Thankfully no one had been paying enough attention to you to notice that you were distracted.

Colby, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. “Give me this, dude,” Sam said, snatching the phone out of Colby’s hand and effectively bringing the conversation on their side of the room to a halt. “You haven’t been listening for like the past 20 minutes, dude. Now let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

“You don’t need to look at that, Sam, it’s not that important-” The tall brunette sounded slightly panicky as he reached and grappled with Sam for his phone. Sam played around for a little bit before finally reading the screen, eyes widening in amusement.

Upon finishing his reading, Sam lowered the phone and Colby relaxed, already knowing that he was caught. “So who’s ‘angelcakes,’ huh Colbert?” Sam prodded teasingly.

Colby blushed ever so slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re just a friend-”

“Which friend, huh?” Sam continued his teasing, growing louder and louder with every response until all eyes were on the two boys.

Colby shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but looking more stressed than ever in actuality. “Just a friend.”

“What do you say we call this friend, huh boys?” Sam suggested.

Kevin nodded, agreeing. “I think we definitely should.” Brennen also nodded when Sam looked to him for approval, essentially finalizing the decision.

“Okay then, let’s do this thing!” Sam yelled, earning cheers from all the other curious folks in the room. The blonde boy pressed call and Colby simply held his face in his hands.

You jumped when your phone rang, honestly having forgotten that oh shit, I’m angelcakes. Everyone turned to look at you curiously, Colby even peeking through his fingers. You didn’t even pick up the device, already knowing whose name would be lighting up the screen. “You gonna pick that up or something?” Corey asked awkwardly.

You shook your head, leaving your phone face down in its spot beside your thigh. “No, it’s probably not important anyways.”

A beat of heavy silence passed before Tara spoke. “Gee, they sure aren’t giving up. Maybe you should answer it.”

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just-”

“Yeah, you should answer the phone, Y/N,” Jake agreed, the pieces seeming to click in his head.

You sighed, burning bright red to the tips of your ears. “Okay okay, fine.” You stood and clicked the answer button. “Hello?”

And there it was, your voice echoing from Colby’s phone. The room erupted in cheers of disbelief, the boys pouncing on Colby and the girls slapping you in playful excitement. “I knew there was something going on between you two!! There’s no way there couldn’t have been -- I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Kat squealed, smushing you in a hug.

The rest of the girls echoed the sentiment, a chorus of ‘same’s and ‘I can’t believe you’s. It took a while for everyone to calm down but, once everyone settled, you and Cole managed to get some alone time. The two of you escaped out back, the less than mediocre breeze cooling the sweat that slicked your skin. You held each other, almost as though you were about to start slow dancing. “Damn, caught red handed, huh?”

You laughed breathily, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “It was only a matter of time, ya know?”

“I know,” he agreed, cheek pressing against your hair. “I’m glad we don’t have to be weird around them anymore.”

“Me too,” you hummed.

Colby pulled away a little bit, just enough for him to look you in the eyes, your arms still around his neck. “Hey.”

You giggled, confused. “Hey.”

“I love you.”

You smiled your confirmation, eyes twinkling under the cheap backyard lights. “I love you.”

.x

#colby brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock one shot #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #fanfiction #the trap house #bug.oneshots

[ragsweas]

Hobbit Fic Rec List!

MODERN AU!

Hello! I always wanted to share a gigantic list of awesome works in Hobbit fanfic, but realized they are too many. So let's start small. A few modern AU that everybody has to read!

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How to fall in love in 100 days by Kytanna

As their lives intertwine, Thorin, Bilbo, and their nephews learn the meaning of finding a family, love and the hard path towards healing. All, over the course of a hundred days.

A lovely piece with all the cuteness and fluff.

Softer Strokes by autisticalistair

Thorin is a well-known artist living a secluded life in the Swiss Alps. Bilbo is a former history professor living in a trauma rehabilitation centre after a devastating accident that took his parents lives. Through a mutual friend, Bilbo finds himself in Switzerland, and Thorin finds himself with company for the next few months, and neither of them are prepared for what that will bring.

I'll never say 'I love you' by JustReadingMaybeWriting

Bilbo is a veterinary student who one night saves the life a handsome but wounded man. Bilbo should have called an ambulance. If he had called an ambulance, he wouldn't be in this weird mess. He certainly wouldn't be falling in love with the man he saved, who can't seem to leave him alone.

This one's a bit dark, but I love it.

painted blind by nasri

The last time Bilbo stepped foot in Aberdeen it was with a broken heart and a bachelor’s degree. All things considered, this time isn’t so different.

Plan B by Drenagon

Plan B: an alternative strategy; a contingency plan, devised for an outcome other than the expected plan.

Or, sending an unqualified temp to act as Thorin Oakenshield's PA because no one qualified can put up with him.

(He'd say they can't meet his standards. Of course he would.)

Meet Bilbo Baggins. He just became Plan B.

One Modern!AU I always wanted to read and this is just it! It's amazing!! And the whole COmpany is there!!

A Land Far Away by Prollyaghost (Callmerin)

"If we were in a different time or place, this story may have begun with ‘once upon a time’, or even ‘In a hole in the ground, there lived…’ But as it so happens, we are in this time and place, in the outskirts of London, where there are no ‘once upon a times’ and the only holes in grounds lead to sewage tunnels. There does happen to be, however, a man who has dedicated a great deal of his life studying these ‘once upon a time’s. He is an English teacher, enjoys afternoon teas with homemade raisin scones, and he most certainly does not believe in fairy-tales.

His name is Bilbo Baggins, and that last bit about him is about to change."

Bilbo Baggins, an English teacher who has never been outside of England, suddenly finds himself thrust into an adventure when a strange man named Thorin Oakenshield requires his help to fulfil his father’s dying wish. Turns out studying the niche topic of the ancient, fictional society of dwarves was more useful than his parents could have imagined. Plunged into a forgotten land, Thorin and Bilbo must find the mythical Arkenstone, before the legends of the past come back to haunt modern society.

Okay, this one's a WIP, but damn the premise is super interesting and honestly can't wait for the next update!

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

This is one of the fics that does not need an introduction. No matter how many times you read this, it isn't enough. And we all love Fili and Kili here.

What to do When Your Cat is an Asshole by lily_winterwood

“You have a cat?” asks the face on the screen. “Yes. His name’s Smaug, he’s orange, and he’s an asshole. Aren’t you, Smaug?” Surly Food Provider glowers at me, which, of course, I am immune to. “Aren’t you a little asshole?” I don’t see why he needs to call me that. My butthole is perfectly licked, and it smells wonderful.

The AU where Smaug is Thorin's asshole cat. Written for the Bagginshield Unexpected Anniversary.

This one's small, and hilarious and even better if you imagine Benedryl Cucumbersnatch narrating the whole thing

No Ordinary Love by badskippy

Bilbo and Ori have been best friends since they were ten years old and tragedy brought them together. Now, a new job, a sudden rainstorm, a chance meeting and budding romance with a burly, handsome stranger will not only alter their lives, but set in motion events that will change everyone around them, and reveal how lies, deceit and assumptions can leave deeper scars than the ones that can be seen.

WIP, unfinished, but damn was this an interesting tale. For anybody who loves angst, go give it a read!

Remember Me by thehistorygeek

Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield are destined to suffer. In every life they live, in every age, in every era, they meet, and this meeting brings back all the memories of the lives that have come before. But every meeting serves also as a death sentence, for once they have met, one of them is doomed to die soon after, usually tragically and prematurely. They remember nothing of their past lives until they meet, and once they have there is nothing that can be done to stop their fate.

For anyone obsessed with Reincarnation and/or History, this is it.

A Remover of Obstacles by MistakenMagic

"Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Another fic that DOES NOT need an introduction. I have read it thrice and every time the emotions are still the same. Trigger Warnings, but damn this is all worth it.

An Unexpected Meeting by what_am_i_even_doing_tho

This is the chronicling of the modern day shenanigans of Bilbo Baggins, who is an absolute gay disaster, and Thorin Oakenshield, who is unashamedly enamored. Aka, the modern Bagginshield AU that no one ever asked for but they're getting anyway.

green and gilded by nasri

The next time he visits his parents there are flowers left in the grass, pressed back against the gravestone. They are yellow and white daffodils, plain and wilting.

“Who’s been to see you?” He asks, taking a single photo of the flowers with their drooping stems and curled petals and the wet winter grass that surrounds them. His mother would call it kind, his father might say it's curious, and Bilbo takes another petal to tuck into his pocket.

You know those stories that you read once and then they never leave your head? And somehow your whole life begins to revolve around that one story? Yeah, this is it. Spoilers in tag and I would suggest you read before advancing cause many people do not like it, but even if you are not in that group, just give it a read. This story deserves all the reads.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

One of the first Modern AU I read and dauym...you won't get it until the end but then...it's fun.

Under New Management by frostyjack

Fili's life is pretty good -- he's doing well at university, he gets on well with his uncle and guardian Thorin, and he's never likely to know what it's like to be poor or unwanted. Then Thorin takes in a foster child -- Kili Oakenshield, a long-lost relative whose past is a total mystery. Suddenly, Fili's life gets a whole lot more complicated. But maybe it gets better, too.

Lots of trigger warning for this one, but when the end comes, you'll know it's all been worth it.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

(Not Quite) Prince Charming by manic_intent

The problem, Bilbo would later tell Gandalf in aggrieved irritation, was not so much the unannounced visitors, oh no, but the fact that due to the lateness of the hour and sheer merciless fate, it came to be that at the respectable age of forty, Bilbo was being introduced to a real, live king while wearing striped pyjamas and fluffy slippers.

The Making of a Story by northerntrash

When Bilbo finds a case of old family photographs, he becomes determined to find the original owners: what he does not expect is to become quite so involved in their lives, or that those photographs should prove quite so important.

Misunderstandings and other obstacles for love by ylc

This series dammit! It's amazing, and the dynamics you would ask from a Modern AU.

Candle Glow and Mistletoe by euseevius

Bilbo and Thorin have been married for six months now. The thing is, Thorin’s family doesn’t know this. And because pretending to be just friends for the three weeks you’re going to spend at the family cabin is so much easier than telling the truth, that is what they will do.

(Of course Bilbo has his own ideas of how believable it is for a grown man to bring a friend to spend Christmas with his family. That’s why they make a bet out of it.)

For days you need to just laugh at these two idiots.

The Lost Kingdom of Erebor by Twisted_Barbie

AU. The Lost Kingdom of Erebor is shrouded in myth, likened to the heavens and compared to Atlantis. Until an archaeological discovery unearths that which was lost and awakens the Mad King from his cursed eternal rest.

Not a happy ending, and mysterious and you need to give it a read. Just, do it. It will all be worth it.

Of Palaces and Ruins by livelongandgetiton

Slow burn. Bilbo Baggins is a half-baked archaeologist who has put his dreams of adventure on hold to teach secondary school. Thorin is the grandson of a politically powerful figure in the historically rich and deeply isolationist country of Erebor. When he flees conflict and corruption in Erebor to settle in London, he finds his hands full with two young boys. Gandalf meddles, and Bilbo signs on as a personal tutor for the boys in hopes of getting a foot in the door to archaeological work in Erebor. He soon discovers that Thorin is a tough nut to crack. As Bilbo takes care of the boys he and Thorin grow closer, and secrets about not just the brooding stranger, but the mysterious country and politics of Erebor begin to unravel. It turns out that Bilbo isn't leaving adventure behind, after all.

WIP, updating. JUST READ IT!!!

Write Me Down Easy by lucyraebrown

Bilbo Baggins, a simple man with a wish for something more than his life teaching high school English, is obsessed with a famous author by the pen-name Oakenshield. Although he knows the future is dim for his chances of finding out about the man behind his favorite book, it's reassuring to know someone has the same thoughts about the world.

WIP, updating. It's mostly fuff and happiness, so yesss...feed your inner Bagginshield!

Show Me My Silver Lining by BiSquared

Three years after the hostile takeover of his grandfather's record label by one DJ Smaug, lead singer Thorin Oakenshield is ready to give up on his dreams, even if his band isn't ready to give up on him. If Thorin can convince talent scout Bilbo Baggins to sign them, they might just have a fighting chance. Of course, this is the night when Thorin gets stage fright.

The music industry AU no one asked for.

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples       

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Did I read this in one go? Yes I did. Did I fall in love with Bagginshiled all over again? Yes I did.

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And that's the list folks! I hope you guys have fun reading all of these nice fics! (And all the bagginshield angst/fuff)

#the hobbit #hobbit #fanfiction #fanfic #thilbo #thorins company #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #modern #fanfic recommendation #hope you all have fun!

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Fourteen

We’re here. The final chapter. Y’all. I’m gonna cry.

@lumosinlove thanks for these characters!!

@donttouchmycarrots thanks for being my partner in crime during this whole mess of a story <3

And thank you, lovely readers!! For sticking with me for this crazy rollercoaster of a story, for encouraging me when I felt like quitting, and for always being so, so wonderful. I appreciate y’all more than I can say.

CW: prison, food, anxiety

Clandestine Masterlist

.

The drive back was silent, punctuated sharply by the two empty seats in the van. It was something they should’ve seen coming, but yet were completely blindsided by. Sirius had been on their side for so long now, it seemed odd to picture him anywhere else. It was like he’d been there for years already, fitting in seamlessly and making friends fast, filling a gap that hadn’t been obvious before but felt like a chasm now. He belonged in Gryffindor with them. And Regulus, while more reserved and distant than his brother, didn’t seem to deserve the fate he’d found. The main motive that kickstarted this whole mission had been him – all for him – and he still couldn’t avoid being dragged down with the Snakes.

Remus was on the phone with a contact from the FBI – he had been since they’d taken Sirius away – trying his hardest to find any loopholes he could. He was… actually strangely calm. Methodically tackling one idea after the next, his analytic brain working overtime. Logan could understand, though. Being productive was helpful. It was when things settled down and got quiet, when all you could do was sit there and wait…

That was when things got tough.

His leg bounced up and down in anticipation the closer they got to the cabin, his one-track mind stuck on one thing and one thing only – getting a blond safe-cracker into his arms again. Not having Leo with them had been like missing a limb, making everything feel out of balance. And even thought he was safe, he was still too far away. Logan couldn’t stand it.

Finn reached over and placed a hand on Logan’s with a knowing smile. He was ready to be home, too.

Gravel crunching under their tires only fueled the eagerness. There were lights still on in the cabin, a warm, inviting pull. The front door was open before the cars had pulled to a complete stop, revealing Leo and Hope and Lyall. Julian was presumably asleep, given the hour. Logan’s seatbelt was thrown off and the door closest to him was yanked open, Finn hot on his heels.

Leo bounded down the steps of the porch and flung himself at the two of them, finding every inch of space between them and filling it, a soft sound escaping from his lips as he held on tight in a one-armed grip. Logan and Finn both stumbled back a few steps at the impact but quickly returned the embrace, Logan’s face buried in the junction between neck and shoulder and Finn’s forehead pressed against the blond’s. They seemed to take their next breaths in tandem, slow and steady, as they leaned into each other. Time slowed, everything in the periphery faded, and the world, previously off-kilter, evened out in equilibrium.

Finn suddenly realized he felt the coarse, scratchy texture of Leo’s sling pressed up against him and pulled back a little. “Careful, baby.”

That made Leo pull back. “Why?” He glanced over them nervously. “Are you hurt?”

Logan sighed long-sufferingly and cupped Leo’s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes with a fond expression that belied his exasperation. “No, but you are,” he moved his hands to smush Leo’s cheeks, causing Finn to laugh, “so take it easy.”

Leo smiled – a real one this time, not one of the fake ones he’d given them before they left – and relaxed. After a quick kiss from Logan he asked, “So it went well? Mission’s done?”

Logan and Finn both froze at that. Finn looked over to Remus, who was still on the phone (like he had been for the past hour at least) and frowned.

“Not quite.”

“We can talk inside,” Leo said, looking worried again. “there’s lots of food for y’all.”

He wasn’t wrong. Food covered pretty much every open surface of the countertops, ranging from pancakes to grilled cheese to the cinnamon swirl muffins Leo brought to their first briefing all those months ago. Finn smiled at the memories and instantly snagged one on their way to the kitchen table. His eyes landed on Talker, who was explaining something to Hope as she took a look at his leg. Nat, Kasey, and Alex were piled onto one couch, looking tired and each with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. He could see Remus on the porch every once in a while when he passed by a window as he paced, phone pressed to his ear.

It didn’t bode well.

Logan sat down with a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and started telling the story, voice a quiet murmur and only interrupted when he shoveled food into his mouth. Finn wondered how none of them had really seen this coming. In hindsight, it made sense that there would need to be a trial – after all, Sirius and his brother weren’t innocent. Finn wasn’t sure what happened next, though. Criminal trials and sentencing weren’t part of the job for them. He hoped they could get the brothers out of this mess, though. If anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Remus.

At least the Snakes were done for. The information on the flash drives was enough to lock them away for a very, very long time.

He took a bite of his muffin, no longer really hungry, and listened to Logan talk.

***

Remus sat down on the porch swing, tired and stressed and not at all ready to quit. He listened to Alice, his only contact in the FBI, rattle off some statistics that he couldn’t even begin to understand. And he wasn’t trying to be rude – that really wasn’t his intent – but he needed to act quickly about this. So he grimaced and cut her off. “Can we get them placed in another prison? Or even in solitary until we can figure something out? If the Snakes can get to them…”

Well. Remus didn’t think they’d show much mercy to the two people mainly responsible for putting them in jail.

Alice sighed, the sound of her rummaging around in her desk filtering through the phone. “We can try. Since they did help you guys, we should be able to swing it. If something jeopardizes their lives, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Remus’ heart twisted – a deep, chronic ache under his ribcage that refused to let up. “Do it fast. I’m going to start reaching out to lawyers.”

“Lupin, it’s four in the morning.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. “Thanks for all the help, Alice.”

He hung up, then braced his forearms on his knees, hands gripping his hair, and breathed.

If there was one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was planning. It was his job, and a big part of the reason he’d switched from field work in the first place. He relied on structure to get through his days, needed the stability in order to function.

There was none of that.

This was being adrift at sea, constantly assaulted by the waves and the current without rescue in sight.

And Remus had no idea what to do.

His phone pinged, catching his attention. A text from Alice flashed across the screen.

I’ve got a friend who’s a lawyer, and she’s a damn good one. I know you’ll want to do your research on her yourself, but I can vouch for her too. Here’s her contact if you want to reach out.

The contact number and email were listed under the name Dorcas Meadowes.

***

Dorcas Meadowes was, to put it simply, awe-inspiring.

Black curls, a dark complexion, and a serious, no-funny-business expression on her face. Her office was neat and organized, a few pictures around the place of her and a blonde girl with a wide grin and freckles. There was a small pride flag on her desk. Without a word, she motioned for Remus to sit, cool and composed and ready to get to work.

That was all it took for Remus to instantly respect her.

“So I’ve heard some of the story from Alice, but I’ll need you to start at the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details, tell me everything.”

Remus did, settling into the chair and getting comfy. It was a long story, after all. When he was done he looked back up at Dorcas, whose face was expressionless except for a single, raised eyebrow.

“That’s…” she trailed off with a low whistle.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the good news is that, if we’ve got enough evidence to back your story up, we can reduce his sentence by a lot, maybe even get him released.”

Remus sagged back into the chair, relief taking over and wiping out the tension radiating through his muscles. “Great.”

He’d known, logically, that they’d be able to reduce his sentence. With all the work he put into taking the Snakes down, there was no way they’d give him a full sentence. But getting him out of there for good…

Remus had never wanted anything so much in his life.

Dorcas leaned forward, powering her laptop on. “We’ll go visit him in the next few days and tell him what’s going on, but first we need a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

***

Sirius hated this.

He was bored, he was tired, and – more than anything – he was lonely.

In Gryffindor, he’d become so accustomed to always having at least someone with him at all times. It was usually Remus, but he’d also grown close to most of the team. And it was nice at the time – god, did he miss it. But it was painful now. He’d witnessed what his life could be like, happy and surrounded by friends and possibly in love, and now he was back to the way his life used to be. Alone and on the wrong side of the law.

He hadn’t seen Reg since they’d been escorted into isolation for their own safety. Which don’t get him wrong – he was grateful for it. Knowing Riddle, they wouldn’t have survived the night if they were all being held together. But it was too quiet now.

The door to his cell rattled and Sirius looked up sharply. A guard was standing there, unlocking his door and opening it.

“Come with me,” the guard said, sounding bored as he opened the door further and held out a pair of handcuffs. Sirius looked at him hesitantly, not moving an inch. The guard rolled his eyes. “You have visitors.”

Sirius perked up at that, the only thought running through his head being Remus. He knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to take this sitting down. He’d be fighting to get Sirius free, no doubt about it. He wasn’t sure who else would be visiting him, anyways – if someone was here, it was sure to be Remus.

So Sirius got up and held his wrists out to be cuffed, then watched as the officer pointed down the hall.

“This way.”

It took all the self-control Sirius had to not run, to slowly put one foot in front of the other until he finally reached his destination. The guard moved around him to open the door and then Sirius was moving again.

He spotted caramel curls as soon as the door opened to the visitation room and felt his shoulders sag with relief. “Remus.”

Worried brown eyes followed him as he crossed the room quickly to sit in front of him, separated by a thick wall of glass. The movies weren’t lying, apparently. But it was so good to see him that Sirius didn’t care.

Remus looked tired. Unfortunately, that didn’t surprise Sirius at all. He knew the tendency to overwork all too well at this point. More than anything, it made Sirius want to get out of there, to wrap him up in his arms and let him take a nap there, to make sure he was taking care of himself. He settled for giving him a stern look instead.

“You need to get some sleep.”

Sirius expected a sharp, witty retort. Some sass, a comeback of some kind. Instead, Remus did the unthinkable and just smiled. “I missed you.”

Sirius sighed, softening at the gentle admission. He’d missed Remus too, of course. More than he could really put into words, and it had barely been a day. The smell of his shampoo, the quiet, reassuring presence of him by Sirius’ side, those eyes that just seemed to see right through him and know even the things Sirius tried to keep hidden. He found he didn’t mind it too much - not when it was Remus.

“I missed you,” he echoed in agreement, refusing to look away until someone cleared their throat loudly. Sirius looked over to a woman sitting next to Remus, looking unimpressed. Sirius hadn’t even known she was there, as wrapped up in Remus as he was.

Remus, to Sirius’ endless delight, blushed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Remus blush before. It was cuter than it had any right to be. “Um, Sirius this is Dorcas. She’ll be representing you in court.”

Right.

He had to go on trial.

Dorcas took over from there. “We think, with the evidence we have, that we can get the charges reduced, maybe dropped if we’re lucky. If you can think of any evidence we don’t know about, we can use that to strengthen your case, too.”

Sirius nodded, relieved. That sounded better than he thought he’d get, to be honest. “What about Reg?” he asked, looking between the two.

Dorcas was very hard to read, Sirius realized. And Remus looked confident… until he looked over at the lawyer. Then his expression flickered.

And Sirius’ heart sank.

“That’s a bit trickier,” Dorcas stated slowly, treading carefully. “The thing is, he never tried to get out. He stayed with the Snakes. And I know it’s not easy to get out of situations like that,” she rushed to continue when she saw the look on Sirius’ face, “but the fact still stands. And he didn’t do as much to help take the Snakes down, not like you did. We can probably reduce his sentence, but he’ll be in prison longer than you. I don’t think we can fix that.”

Sirius felt himself being torn in two different directions. He wanted to be free, to be able to live his life again. Maybe make a home in Gryffindor (or maybe move in permanently with a certain spy), get a job as a consultant. He’d make sure the poor houseplant in Remus’ apartment survived, the poor thing, and he’d keep Remus’ favorite tea stocked in the cupboard. He’d be able to relax for – well, the first time in a very long time.

But his brother.

He was the main reason Sirius got out in the first place. The reason he ended up in Gryffindor, this entire mission was for him. To get him out, to make sure he was safe.

What was the point, if he was stuck in jail while Sirius got to walk free?

He could practically hear his brother telling him how stupid he was being in that dry voice of his, but he pushed the thought away. He’d made up his mind, and it was practically impossible to sway him when that happened.

Sweet, caramel eyes might test him, though.

Sirius looked up at Remus guiltily, dreading the response he was going to get. But yet again, Remus took him by surprise and smiled sadly.

“I understand.”

Those words hit Sirius like a freight train. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes stinging and throat getting tight. “I’m sorry.”

Remus just shook his head. “Don’t be.”

Sirius loved him.

Remus glanced over at a confused Dorcas. “He can’t leave his brother. Whatever sentence Reg gets, Sirius wants to do the same.”

She was silent for a long time, looking back and forth between the two of them. Then she sighed, seeming resolute. “Well then we’d better get those charges as low as we can.”

***

Four Weeks Later

.

Leo found Remus in the courthouse hallway during the trial recess before they were supposed to reconvene for the sentencing, looking seconds away from pacing from one side of the building to the other. The past few weeks had been hard on all of them. Between coming to terms with everything that had happened in the recent months, to trying to figure out the evidence they needed to bring forward to try and get the charges dropped against both Sirius and Regulus, to the strange feeling in the Agency brought forth by Sirius’ absence, it had been weird for all of them. Remus had been hit the hardest by all of it, though – and understandably so. That didn’t make it any easier to watch, though.

He’d been running himself to the bone the past four weeks, going above and beyond to make sure everything was in order for the trial. He looked ready to drop, if Leo was being honest.

But he understood. If it were Logan or Finn in Sirius’ place… well. He’d already figured out just how far he’d go for them.

He put a hand on Remus’ arm, trying to be as calming as possible. “You’re going to be ok,” he said carefully, choosing his words meticulously. He didn’t want to be cold, but he didn’t want to get Remus’ hopes up only for them to be dashed.

Carmel eyes met his own, and Leo sighed at the stress he saw there. He looked tired – so tired.

“What do you need?” Leo asked quietly, hoping for some sort of guidance on how to help him, how to get that look off of his face.

Remus just laughed under his breath, a sad sound. “There’s a lot of things I need.” He shuffled on his feet, gathering his sleeves in his hands. “But a hug would be a good start.”

Not hesitating, Leo gathered him into a hug, the stretch pulling at the scar tissue in his shoulder that was finally free of a sling. Remus was tense and still for a while, then relaxed into it. Leo wished he could do more, wished he could make any sort of difference in this situation. But everything was so far out of their control now; the only thing left to do was wait.

“Whatever happens, we’re here for both of you. You’re not alone in this.”

Remus stepped away with a fake attempt at a smile. “Yeah.”

There was a visual cue that neither of them seemed to catch and people started filtering back into the courtroom, making Remus’ face grow paler and more pinched. Leo stuck by his side as they walked back inside, trying to ignore the soft sound Remus made when he saw Sirius again – all the way in the front, in a jumpsuit that looked too big for him, hair longer and eyes a little duller than they remembered, fidgeting with something in his cuffed hands. Regulus was next to him, head down and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Leo just stuck to Remus’ side as they squeezed into the row of chairs with the rest of the Agency, making sure Remus was right in the middle, surrounded by so many of the people who cared about him most. Finn and Logan sat down next to him with grim smiles.

Leo reached over to tangle his fingers with Finn’s, feeling him squeeze back gently. The bruises were completely gone from his face, and he was walking limp-free now. He dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder, having to angle his shoulders down to rest somewhat comfortably against the shorter man.

Leo would never get over the height difference.

“I’m taking a nap when we get home. This is so stressful, oh my god.” Finn sighed, making Leo smile.

Home.

That was still somewhat new for the three of them. After a few days back in their separate apartments in Gryffindor, they’d realized how incredibly codependent they’d become during their mission. Leo would find himself staring up at the ceiling most nights, worrying about the other two, until he’d get a phone call from one of them and they’d end up driving to each other and collapsing in bed together, squished together just like those hotel rooms they’d shared. And it had gotten to the point where there wasn’t any point living in different apartments when they ended up together most nights anyways, so Leo and Logan had packed up their things and moved in with Finn. He had the largest bed, anyways.

So yeah. They lived together now. And Leo was ridiculously pleased about it.

They were taking that vacation in a few weeks, too – the one Finn had first brought up in the back of a getaway car, tears in his eyes and blood on his hands. Somewhere warm, just like he’d promised. He’d get to watch Logan tan and Finn turn red like a lobster, only to go straight back to pale. They’d get some time to relax and not stress about work – just themselves and the vast expanse of beach and water in front of them.

Leo couldn’t wait.

“We’ll take that nap together.” Logan answered Finn quietly, turning his head to meet Leo’s eyes as he pressed an affectionate kiss to Finn’s head. Leo smiled at him, the sense of one chapter ending and the next beginning washing over him.

Whatever came their way, they’d be ok. They’d proven that already.

The crowd hushed as the judge sat back down, face impassive.

“We have reviewed the evidence and testaments brought forward in defense of Sirius and Regulus Black.” He started, looking down at the two in question critically as everyone in the courtroom seemed to hold their breath.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that they committed crimes while with the organization,” the judge stated firmly, then continued, “Regulus and Sirius Black are hereby sentenced to one year in prison.”

The gavel slammed.

Remus sat there in quiet disbelief.

They’d done… everything. They’d worked so hard for the past month in attempts to let Sirius and Regulus’ sentences reduced – and that was technically a reduced sentence – but it was still more than any of them had been expecting.

A year.

They hadn’t done enough.

Remus almost missed all the movement around him, too busy staring at the back of the seat directly in his line of vision, but his gaze snapped up when an achingly familiar voice called his name.

Sirius slowed to a stop as he passed Remus on his way out, eyes wide and frantic. Desperate. It broke Remus’ heart, more than it already was. “Wait for me?” He asked intently, like his sole focus was on Remus and his answer. He shoved his open palms out, revealing what he’d been fidgeting with during the entire trial. Remus looked down to find an origami flower, conveying all of Sirius’ hopes for the future within the delicate folds.

Remus wished more than anything that he could reach for him; to pull him in tight, hold him close, and refuse to let the guards take him away. He also had the half-formed plans of a jail break already in mind, even though he knew Sirius would never agree to it. It was then that his eyes locked with the gray ones he’d come to know better than his own and he knew – he knew that he’d wait, however long it took.

Remus loved him.

It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t sudden. In all honesty Remus had probably felt that way for a long time now, the truth prodding at the back of his head, nagging at his subconscious. He loved Sirius, plain and simple. Simple except for the fact that one of them was going to jail for a year. And yet, no matter how complicated it got, no matter how much time went by, it was the easiest decision Remus had ever made.

Well. If love made people crazy, Remus was certifiably insane.

He smiled a little tearfully at Sirius and nodded fiercely, picking up the paper flower delicately.

 “You know I will.”

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: food #cw: prison #cw: anxiety

[colorfulbard]

Showtime

Summary: Housewives in a small town truly have nothing else better to do.

Pairing: Lifeguard!Eren x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Small themes of NSFW

Words: 1.6K

A/N: I saw an ask that I think was from @sleepysnk blog and I couldn't help myself. This one-shot was based on this video. Sorry in advance to her for not asking permission, but I really wanted to write this. I hope you like it!

~~~~~

Summer was a time for new beginnings in a young kid's life. School was out which meant three whole months full of time to make self-improvements. Or to just goof off with friends. During this time of experiencing the blazing sun, the first thing to come to any kid's mind is to be the first to hit the pool.

Not that it mattered who came first. In the small town of Shiganshina, eventually, the community pool would be full of family's trying to cool off from the summer heat. Whether some of the families were there by choice didn't fully matter. Mothers from all over town were dragged by their children regardless of what errands needed to be done.

In the past five summers, that's how it was. Mothers had no reason to come to the pool by choice ever since their eye-candy had left to college out of state. This summer, however, the housewives in-town were less reluctant to the idea of a day at the pool. As kids ran around the pool, ignoring the lifeguard's whistle, and whacked each other with pool noodles. Housewives found other ways to enjoy their time under the hot sun.

Amongst the loud splashing and laughter, a familiar ringtone chimed. This particular ringtone, however, was only familiar to every housewife that had been to the pool since the beginning of summer. The phone the ring was coming from lit up, an alarm displayed on the screen labeled as 'showtime'.

Practically every woman who had been to the pool since summer began had a Pavlovian response when that alarm rang. They all immediately sat up in their chairs, grabbed mirrors to fix their makeup or hair, and relaxed back into whatever sexy stance they could think of.

Out of all the women who waited for the show to start. None of them were nearly as excited as Debbie, whose phone alarm was still ringing. There wasn't much a housewife in Shiganshina had to look forward to. Especially during the summer.

Debbie truly detested summer with a passion as fiery as the sun. School was no more which meant her alone time was over. Three kids were now constantly on her ass with her husband either at work or napping.

She almost bristled at the mere thought of having to deal with them later in the afternoon but maintained her composure. She couldn't afford a single hair out of place. It'd taken her two hours to perfect the look she was going for. The amount of effort couldn't go to waste. Not when she had to compete with seven other housewives for his attention.

"Look alive, ladies," proclaimed Debbie as she readjusted her boobs and put down her sunglasses. "The show is about to begin." She smirked as the current lifeguard began to step down from her tower to switch.

Debbie felt time slow down at the sight of a door opening at the other end of a pool. She was sure the other housewives were feeling it too as they all began to tense in anticipation. If any of their kids were drowning at the moment, none of them would notice. It's not like it mattered considering Mikasa was still watching anyway.

Even if one of them did drown, it wouldn't hurt to watch them being saved by the notorious Eren Yeager. He was the one that currently had every housewife on the edge of their seat. The man was an Adonis in the eyes of every housewife in Shiganshina. The absolute perfect man of their dreams.

When that door fully opened, they all felt the air leave their lungs. His silky brown hair was tied back into a bun with the right amount of fringe framing his face. Abs chiseled to perfection glistened in the sunlight. To top it all of, with a flick of a wrist, he took off his sunglasses to reveal the most gorgeous eyes that suck any woman in.

Debbie could go on and on about Eren. She even bit her lip at the thought of them, together. Having invited him over for dinner as thank you for saving one of her kids from drowning. They would be all alone after she forced the kids into bed early. Her husband would be working late, so, who knows? Anything could happen.

None of the housewives' eyes left him for even a second as he walked to relieve Mikasa of her shift. Some could barely manage to remain composed as he offered a nod and greeted them with a "ladies".

Debbie put on her best sexy pout the moment his eyes were on her. She waited for the inevitable nod and compliment on her new sunglasses only to receive a nod. No compliment.

Her eyes widened and she cast a glance at the other wives. It seems they were suffering from the same thing. It was like that ever since he came back from college out of state.

Debbie's perplexed expression turned to a sneer when she remembered why. Turns out after coming back home to visit his mother, a college education wasn't the only thing he came back home with.

"Eren!"

Speak of the devil and they shall appear. Debbie scoffed under her breath at the sight. You weren't much of a looker in her opinion. Everything about you screamed basic in Debbie's eyes. From your hair to your outfit. But that didn't stop Eren's eyes from lighting up whenever he saw you.

~

You had to be honest, at first, summer in the small town of Shiganshina was boring. The only reason why you were even here was due to Eren's insistent begging. That boredom lasted until he mentioned he had gotten a side job as a lifeguard. The same job he had the summer before he left college. He had mentioned it to you before in passing, but you'd never forget the stories Armin told you of all those housewives who drooled at the sight of him.

The moment the job began you gave him time to settle before you came to ruin it all. The time you spent waiting was worth it. Every housewives' eyes were on you as you confidently strode up to Eren on his lifeguard chair and asked for a kiss. Their faces were to die for, you wished you'd taken a picture. Especially Debbie's.

You knew for a fact she hated your guts. It wasn't like she tried to hide it anyway. She glared at you every chance she got. Which is why you were at the pool visiting Eren again today. You giggled as you glanced back at her while leaning against Eren's lifeguard chair.

"What are you laughing at?"

You looked up to the object of your affections and shook your head. "Nothing," you said innocently while rubbing his knee.

Eren rose a brow, not believing your tone for a second, and followed your previous line of sight. He rolled his eyes when he spotted Debbie waving at him just moments after she finished glaring at you. "Do you have to cause trouble with every housewife you meet?" He teased, shoving your hand away.

You placed a hand on your chest and gasped in mock disbelief. "Me? Cause trouble?" You asked rhetorically, "I would never." You crossed your arms and frowned.

Eren leaned back in his chair, "yeah, okay," he said sarcastically with a scoff.

You scoffed back at him and smacked his thigh, "okay, come on. You have to admit it's pretty funny." You barely held in a laugh at the sight of a whole row of housewives glaring daggers at you.

"Not gonna be funny when they finally poison you," Eren joked while stroking his abused thigh.

You gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah, because I'm dying to eat Debbie's casserole," you said sarcastically. Those housewives had been sending casserole after casserole to Carla's house ever since he came home. You hadn't bothered to eat a single bite of any of them. Neither had Carla.

Eren gave a small wave to Debbie, who was still watching the two of you. "What's with you and Mrs. Carter anyway?" He asked with a raised brow.

"More like what's with Debbie," you corrected, "she's hated me since she figured out I'm your girlfriend."

Eren smirked and leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. "Can't blame her, I am a catch." He winked down at you.

You rolled your eyes, "whatever you say, Casanova." You stepped away from the chair. "I'm gonna get going, don't wanna keep distracting you considering they're not gonna save their kids anyway." You gestured to the housewives who had their eyes glued on Eren.

He rose a brow but soon nodded after glancing at the housewives. "You have a point, get outta here." He leaned down to swat your ass.

You punched his leg in response. "Oi, watch your hands, Yeager!" You scolded.

"You know I can't control myself." He smirked and tried to rest his hands on your waist.

You hummed and laughed to yourself. Eren rose a brow at your laugh but said nothing as you stood on your tiptoes to grab him by his whistle. He was frozen as he waited for your next move and spellbound the same way those housewives were with him.

The tips of his ears were hot, you could feel it on your lips as they gently grazed his ear. "Let's hope you'll be able to control yourself until after your shift." You gave his ear a small kiss before pulling away and quickly walking away before he could recover.

You gave him one last look over your shoulder and giggled at the sight of his flushed cheeks. You also gave Debbie a passing glance and waved at her. "Hot day isn't it, Mrs. Carter?" You asked.

You didn't miss the way she attempted to murder you with one look. "Immensely," she said through gritted teeth.

Yeah, summer was a fun time.

#eren x reader #eren x y/n #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #aot self insert #aot fanfiction

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (March 4/2021) -      Life and Death

Foolish  has found signs of the Egg’s intrusion on his land near the Temple of Undying, and wonders if it’s finally time to step in... What is this new foe, with remarkable control over people’s minds?

And what does it mean to play god?

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Tubbo

HBomb

Foolish

Tommy

Karl

Antfrost

Ranboo

---

- One thing leads to another, Tubbo visits HBomb’s savannah mansion, puts him on house arrest, revokes it because H put on a suit, and forms an AA board.

- Foolish sails in a boat wonders whether he’s been living...a little naively. 

“You would think after so many years, that I wouldn’t misunderstand things. That I would’ve learned lessons, that I would know everything, but...I guess there’s some meaning behind my name. I think it applies not just to me though, either...I think it applies to most creatures. I think everyone’s perhaps a little foolish.”

- He reaches the shore and shows that his statue has been covered in Blood Vines. 

“And boy was I foolish...I thought I was safe here.”

- He doesn’t fear the Egg, but it does bother him. He thought he didn’t need to pay much attention to it, that it was just a pest. But the Egg might require more attention than he assumed. He thought his statue, his cats, they would protect this place.

- How far is this thing willing to spread? What is it? An old foe, or a new one? Foolish gathers his full set of Netherite. He wonders who they could seek for help. Tommy? Technoblade?

"But then...it gets me thinking...other, perhaps, risky ideas...what about Dream? If Dream was not in prison right now, would he let it spread -- or maybe he’s in favor of the Egg! That’s what we don’t know."

- Foolish heads to the Egg Room. What makes the Egg special?

- He doesn’t hold any grudge against Bad or Ant or Punz or anyone else whose mind has been corrupted by the Egg. Mind control is an interesting thing. Not many creatures can do it.

- He meets eyes with Ponk, whose eyes are red. Foolish talks about how it’s unwise to think that one can tread the line and not become corrupted. Ponk tells him to come look. 

- The Egg starts to make noises...a laugh?

“Have we ever met before?”

- There’s a rattling noise.

“Do you have a name?”

The Crimson speaks, but for the first time, it’s not in reverse:

“LEAVE...”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before. You’re a new foe, something I’ve not quite seen in all my years...”

“You think you’re more powerful? Be careful...careful being naive.”

“Maybe so, maybe so, but we will see. ‘Cause you might have fucked up dragging me into this.”

- The Egg laughs.

“Laugh. Laugh if you want, we’ll see.”

“TIME WILL TELL.”

“Time...will...tell...in-deed!”

“Well, it was nice getting to know you. It was nice talking with you. And thank you for intruding!”

“BYE...BYE...”

- Foolish goes to leave, as the Egg continues to laugh. Someone will figure this out.

“What has the power to control minds? Witches, warlocks, perhaps could maybe influence one...Demons, Dreamons? Even they, I have seen, have the power to tinker with someone’s mind, but not control and twist so many at one time."

- Foolish returns to the Temple of Undying, a peaceful place.

“And that is what I’m trying to explain...that be careful! Be careful when you think you’re all high and mighty, ‘cause little do you know until it’s too late...that maybe there is something above you...”

“If the Egg was really so powerful, let me see it here. I want to see its vines right here.”

- He thought the Egg was a pest, that it would just die on its own. It looks like he might need to start talking with more people.

“I like to build...and there’s still...a room that I have up my sleeve. A room that, as far as I know, no one knows about...it’s still a last resort. I don’t think we’re quite needing this yet, but...it’s still something to keep in mind.”

- There’s a room in Foolish’s basement under the statue, a special staircase down. He hesitates, but does not go down there yet.

“Tinkering with life and death, it’s...very profound. It shouldn’t just be toyed with lightly.”

“But this...this is something I’ll no longer take lightly.”

---

Tommy’s Resurrection

(Again, this part of the recap will be more detailed)

---

- Tommy’s before-stream screen starts with “Undertale” playing. There’s nothing but a black screen.

“Am I dead?”

“Hello, Tommy.”

- Tommy asks Wilbur how long is left. Wilbur goes to check, saying there are eight more eons to go.

- Wilbur offers Tommy competitive solitaire.

- Schlatt and Mexican Dream are also there, though Wilbur thinks Schlatt’s been asleep for around three months.

- Wilbur is happy that Tommy’s there. 

“Me and you were never good for that server...you can look at the entire history, and it all falls in our laps...”

“I genuinely think if it weren’t for me and you dying, the server would be in shambles. I know for a fact that if I’m brought back in some way it’s definitely just gonna go to shit again. I know what I’m like, that’s the issue.”

- Tommy says he hates it here. Wilbur says his plan is, in a couple months, they can set up a competitive solitaire arena.

- Wilbur’s voice disappears.

“Tommy...Tommy? Wake up.”

- Tommy wakes up in the cell with Dream.

- Dream asks what it was like. Tommy says it was dark. Dream asks if there were others there, Tommy says there was Schlatt, Mexican Dream -- Dream sounds excited about Tommy talking with Schlatt.

- Dream asks...what did it feel like? Death? No one has ever been dead and been back before.

Dream: “I was kind of scared it wouldn’t work...”

Tommy: “You were scared it wouldn’t work?”

Dream: “I mean I never tried it...”

- Tommy explains that death felt like being pulled apart and put back together again.

- Dream asks what was Wilbur like.

Tommy: “Do you remember what Wilbur was like? Here?”

Dream: “Yeah! Wilbur was awesome!”

- Dream tells Tommy everyone thinks he’s still dead.

Dream: “Tell me one more time, what was it like. When you die, what does it feel like?”

Tommy: “I felt like I was shredded to dust--”

Dream: “Did it feel good?”

Tommy: “No, no, it didn’t feel good, it felt like I was put through a shredder. There was no blood, there was no flesh, there was just essence.”

Tommy: “A tunnel of black and void, not even black just colorless.”

- Dream said he tried to give Tommy time. Tommy says he was in there for months. He asks where Tubbo, Jack and Phil are. Dream asks how long he was in there. Tommy says a month or so.

Dream: “Tommy, you were there for two days, Tommy.”

- They lost count when “Schlatt started doing the thing,” but they were counting. Tommy says that was just the first “round,” and Schlatt insisted they count like that...they kept count up until about a month and 20 days.

Tommy: “He always liked the number 18...”

- Dream says he only did it to prove that the revive book was real. Tommy remembers the book...it’s real. It’s actually real.

Dream: “I...I’m a god! I can bring people back to life, I didn’t even know for sure that I could, but I can! I’m actually a god! I -- this -- I could kill people and just bring them back if I wanted to!”

- Tommy asks how long Wilbur’s been dead. Dream says he’s not sure...maybe six months?

- Tommy says that the things Wilbur talked about, said he would do...

Tommy: “Promise me, never, EVER -- Dream look at me, LOOK AT ME! -- NEVER bring back Wilbur...please, please, please. Dream, I thought he was like my brother, alright, even before, I wasn’t sure, I tried going to his revival...Dream, I’ve been there for so long now, I take every ounce of doubt I had back. Do not. Bring back. Wilbur. EVER.”

“Dream, you are NOTHING. You are FINE, we can be friends if you don’t bring him back, all the tragedies you’ve done--”

- Dream says it’s up to him. Maybe he’ll flip a coin!

“Dream...why did you keep asking me how it was?”

Dream: “I just -- I wanna know! It’s interesting!”

- Dream wonders if they could send him back to figure out more.

Tommy: “You’re too powerful -- you’re too powerful! ...Dream? Burn the book. Burn the book, now, Dream! You think you understand -- you don’t understand this, this is so much bigger than that. The TRAUMA, everything -- you couldn’t even comprehend what I’ve gone through, alright? Burn the book now, please.”

- Dream says he doesn’t have the book, just the information, the knowledge inside of it, and he can’t burn knowledge.

Dream: “I wanna know about death, you know? We can study it! We can study it together! We can become IMMORTAL together! By studying it!”

- Tommy tells Dream to burn the book again, but Dream insists that it’s in his mind, he can’t get rid of that. He goes over to the lava and throws one of his books in.

Dream: “I can burn every book that I have and it will do nothing.”

...

Dream: “How am I even gonna die? I’m in this--”

Tommy: “Dream? I have to kill you. This isn’t even a matter of disliking you or not, disregard all of our previous entaglements -- you have to die.”

Dream: “Okay...go on then. Kill me.”

- Dream simply goes to the corner, waiting.

Dream: “Go ahead. Do it.”

Tommy: “This is where you die, in the prison...and you’re fine with this?”

Dream: “Here, use some potatoes, just like with you.”

Tommy: “And you’re fine with this? You’re fine with me just beating you to -- you die, and revival goes down with you, and I’ll kill you in the fuckin’ prison! The prison you would’ve never fucking get out of, if only I hadn’t come here, and I wouldn’t have been trapped in here, I would’ve been fucking fine, so now I’m gonna kill you, and I’m gonna be trapped alone. I’m gonna...and I’m gonna be in here...”

- Tommy starts, but then stops.

Tommy: “And if I kill you now, then I’ll be in here...then I’ll be stuck in here. And I know the book I signed. I can’t...so if I kill you in here, what happens if I kill you in here?”

- Dream says that Awesam is mad with him so no one would even realize Tommy was in there for a while. Tommy wonders about the conditions of the waivers -- the books meant breaking in, not trying to kill, right?

- Dream says it could be a couple months before Awesam checks again, he might assume Dream had gotten out.

Dream: “Kill me if you want, I’m fine! I’ll stand right by the lava, you could punch me into it, I’ll set myself on fire.”

He steps into the lava, lighting himself on fire.

“Come on. Go ahead.”

- Tommy knows that Sam takes his job as warden seriously, he knows what he signed.

Tommy: “I can’t kill you in here, because then I’ll be in here forever myself, and then...and then it’ll be worse than down there! Or up there -- I don’t know where it was -- but it will be worse than...it will be worse than death. And then I’ll have to die in here, and then I’ll go back there...with no more memories, no more anything, just suffering.”

- Dream says that now that Tommy knows, though once Tommy gets out of the prison, he can go and tell everyone that Dream has the book, that he wasn’t lying. Tommy can tell everyone that Dream was telling the truth.

Tommy: “I can’t kill you...I can’t kill you...I need to kill you, and I can’t.”

- Dream realizes that he could kill Tommy, kill Tubbo, and just bring them back!

Dream: “Everyone...is my puppets.”

- Tommy is horrified that Dream would kill him just to prove a point.

Tommy: “With this much power...you killed me.”

Dream: “You wouldn’t believe me! What else am I gonna do?”

Tommy: “You killed me to prove your own point -- you could’ve just showed me, you could’ve just -- this is so evil, this isn’t like before -- you put me through torture, through pain, to prove a POINT, Dream! That’s fucked! You can’t do that to me, to any --”

Dream: “Why? I can, Tommy! You didn’t believe me! You were calling me a liar, how else am I supposed to prove it?”

...

Tommy: “You’re. nothing, Dream, you don’t know what it’s like. You’re not just evil now, you are fuckin’ demented. Fuck you. Fuck you, man. Seriously, more than before -- you’re not just a villain, you’re not just the villain in the history books -- you are the fuckin’ Devil, man.”

- Dream says he has to let Tommy out of there alive

Dream: “Otherwise Sam will cut off my visitors, he’ll feed me less, he’ll do all these things -- but what I will do -- I’ll let you free, I’ll let you free, we’ll call for Sam, we’ll get him in here, he’ll let you out. But...I’m gonna bring back Wilbur...and (laughs) Wilbur’s gonna help me escape. He will owe me his life! And he’s been there for how many years? He’s probably the smartest man on the entire planet!”

“I’m bringing back Wilbur.”

---

- Back at his summer home, Foolish speaks with Bad, telling him that while he was at first neutral about the Egg, he’s starting to hate it.

- Bad arrives at the Temple. Foolish tells him that he feels a bit bad for Bad, he used to be good! And deep down, Foolish thinks Bad needs to be freed.

- Bad replies that even so far out here, Foolish is still vulnerable. 

- Foolish tells Bad to leave. Bad does so.

Afterwards, he thinks to himself.

“This is a spit in the face of everything that this summer home stands for...This Temple of the Undying? It’s life, happiness, not whatever this is. Absolutely not. You know, I haven’t spilled any blood, I’m a peaceful man, I don’t like death. I don’t like death at all.” 

(He shows his stats -- “Players killed: 0″) 

“And I’m going to do my best to keep it that way.”

- He says he’ll do his best to resolve things peacefully, but when it comes down to it, he may have to kill for the greater good. Doing things peacefully might lead to his downfall. Is he being naive, thinking that things can be resolved without violence?

“Thinking that this could be fixed peacefully -- maybe that’s my problem, maybe that’s why I’m still searching for answers, ‘cause I think peaceful -- the peaceful approach is the right way -- maybe it’s not! Maybe it’s not...”

“But I’m still gonna maintain the hope that it is.”

---

It’s time for Tales From the SMP: “The Haunted Mansion!”

This episode takes place a bit into the future.

---

The Cast:

- Connor plays Connor

- Karl plays Karl

- Sapnap plays Rash

-  Dream plays Francis

- Punz plays Joey

- George plays Greg

- Tubbo and Ranboo play the twins, Ash (Tubbo) and Zachary (Ranboo)

- Techno plays Porkums, who has a very silly hat

- Bad plays Gump

---

- Karl meets Connor, who introduces Karl to his friends. They’ve rented an AirBNB at the mansion.

- Connor introduces Karl to everyone. Ash and Zachary have lots of milk.

- Karl has them sit in a circle to play Duck-Duck-Goose 

- Somebody’s at the door...Schlatt?

- Connor introduces him. He’s been completely dead for a couple months. According to Schlatt, he spent some time reflecting on his time as President and decided to become a landlord and rent out some places for AirBNBs. 

- Schlatt shows them the million-dollars-a-night property.

- Connor questions the logic of Schlatt having this massive property in a server whose economy has been characterized by numerous governments collapsing. Schlatt explains they invested in cryptocurrency.

- Schlatt shows them My Castle and tells Connor to press his very special button. Nothing happens, so Schlatt fishes him out of view and Connor disappears.

- Schlatt explains that he built this castle as a fun game! There are three beacons, and they all need items to be activated. If they find all the nether stars, they can see Schlatt’s lair, where Connor is trapped!

- Everyone wonders what if they don’t really want Connor that much? Could they have something else, like Haribos?

- They go down the first hall of trials. Schlatt leaves them.

- They retrieve the Nether Star and debate who should be the one to put it in. Porkums is selected. Schlatt fishes him behind a wall and disappears him and his silly hat.

- They go through the next trials as Schlatt plays Trance Music for Racing Game.

- They get the second Nether Star and return to pick the next person. Karl brings up how he was on Schlatt’s side the whole time in Manberg, and Schlatt talks about how he’s changed since then and become a landlord.

- Francis puts the next star in and gets teleported to the lair.

- Glatt tries to take Ash as well so that he can teach him about real estate but accidentally gets the wrong twin and sends Zachary down instead.

- They go through the last hall, the red one, and retrieve the Nether Star. Greg puts it in.

- They pull a lever and a pathway appears leading down into the basement. They find everyone down there chilling in a pool. Connor greets them.

- Schlatt and Connor used to run a business together on another server...

(SMPLive canon?)

- Karl goes to the Inbetween and starts reading.

“Welcome back :]”

- He reads some more and finds a Nether Portal with a book labelled “STOP” warning him to not stray from the path.

- The Inbetween is a hot destination for time travelers to return to! :]

- He finds another book:

“GO UNDER THE TREE. YOU CAN’T AFFORD NOT TO.”

“THANK GOD YOU FOUND IT. IT CAN’T SEE YOU DOWN HERE.”

- Another book, again in all-caps, tells him that the castle isn’t what it seems, and he doesn’t want to learn the truth about those other forms of him. He needs to find a way to the portal.

- A line of books tells him to stick to the path.

:] writes another book telling him that the Inbetween is gorgeous! What more is there to ask for?

“It’s a time traveller’s dream.”

- Karl will return to his library. The stories need to be preserved.

“The SMP needs you, and you need me. We make a good team! See you soon! :]”

---

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts #sorry for taking a while on this one it was a lot #i think the second screenshot is the best one i've ever taken

[chalkrevelations]

SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all!  So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

[suburbanbeatnik]

Françoise de Bernardy’s Alexandre Walewski: The Polish son of Napoleon- the first chapter

If I went to the (long and tedious) effort of translating the first chapter of  Françoise Bernardy’s 1976 biography of Alexandre Walewski, I figure you guys should see it too. Enjoy!

* * *

MARCH 1810. Paris is moved by the preliminaries of Napoleon's marriage with Marie-Louise. In a few days, the archduke Charles has to marry in Vienna, in the name of the French Caesar, his yesterday's victor, the daughter of the German Caesars.


At 2 rue du Houssaye, in the then aristocratic district of Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, a small hotel of elegant appearance. On March 10, at the end of the afternoon, the Emperor brought a cradle decorated with silver laurel. The room where the imperial gift is deposited is hung with light blue. On the wall is a beautiful portrait of a woman by Gerard: blonde, with beautiful eyes and a fine, gentle face. The mirror of the fireplace reflects the charming features. Near the Boucaut armchairs, a Martin varnished chiffonier, behind, half-folded, a large screen of Coromandel lacquer.

A heroic fighter in the last wars of Polish independence, Mathieu Laczynski, staroste of Gostyn, died young and desperate, leaving a widow and six children who can barely live off the mortgaged land of Kiernozia.

The years pass, aggravating the ruin. The four sons are valiant but weak, spendthrift, covered with debts, whether they work on the land or fight in the Polish legions in the service of France. Only one hope, a rich marriage for the oldest daughter, Marie, born in 1786, who is beautiful and good.

An almost septuagenarian but very noble neighbor, Count Anastasius Walewski, offers this rich marriage when Marie has just turned seventeen. At first, the young girl rejects the idea of a union with an old man, twice widowed, whose son Stanislaus is already a made man. But Mme. Laczynska urges her daughter. She knows that he has a warm heart and a devoted soul. Count Walewski is generous. If Mary sacrifices herself, he will secure the future of her brothers and sister. How to resist seventeen years? At the beginning of 1804 Marie became countess Walewska. In June 1805 she had a son, Antoine, a fragile, weak, viable child, who was taken over by the count's sister, Hedwige, an abusive spinster. She leaves behind a distraught young woman with a sad heart and empty arms. Only the sense of duty and a deep passion, which lifts her out of herself, the love of the country, sustain her. Marie lives on the hopes that the victories of the imperial France over Austria, Prussia, and Russia, the powers that once shared Poland.

This patriotism and these hopes brought Marie Walewska to meet Napoleon in Blonie on the road to Warsaw on December 31, 1806. In the weeks that followed, this patriotism and these hopes persuaded the young woman to become the mistress of the French emperor, first forced, then willing, then in love. In the spring of 1807, she lived with him in Finckenstein, where the warrior spent some quiet hours preparing for the Friedland campaign.

Unofficially separated from her old husband, Marie Walewska came to Paris at the beginning of 1808. She remained there until the Emperor's departure for Bayonne. If the fever of the senses has subsided between them, if the lovers are often and for a long time separated, nevertheless Napoleon remains attentive and Marie attached. And then there is always Poland, whose destiny once more seems to be played out during the campaign of 1809. In May, Marie writes to Napoleon, reminds him of his promises, offers to join him in Austria, and on May 18, from Schoenbrunn, which he is about to leave for his headquarters in Ebersdorf, the Emperor replies to the young woman.

"Marie, I have received your letter. I read it with the pleasure that your memory always inspires me. The feelings that you keep for me, I carry them with me.

"Come to Vienna, I wish to see you and give you new proofs of the tender friendship I have for you. You cannot doubt the value I place on everything that concerns you. A thousand tender kisses on your beautiful hands and one on your beautiful mouth. "

A month later, back at Schoenbrunn, on June 20, fifteen days before the battle of Wagram, the Emperor sent Marie an affectionate letter.

"Dear Marie, your letters have pleased me as always. I do not approve of your having followed the [Polish] army in Cracow, but I cannot blame you.

"The affairs of Poland are restored, and I understand the anxieties you have had ... I acted, it was better than to lavish consolation on you. You don't have to thank me, I love your country and I appreciate the merits of many of your people.

"It takes more than the capture of Vienna to bring the end of the campaign. When I have finished, I will move to be closer to you, my sweet friend, because I am anxious to see you again. If it is at Schoenbrunn, we will enjoy together the charm of its beautiful gardens and we will forget all these bad days.

"Have patience and keep faith. "N"

After Wagram, Countess Walewska moved to Moedling, a few miles from Vienna, and throughout the summer of 1809, while peace was being discussed, the Emperor came almost every day to spend the evening, the night - with Marie.

Slow, sweet weeks which, if they seem to consecrate the liaison by the expectation of a child, however, by precipitating the divorce, also prepare the rupture. Indeed, Marie wishes to return to France with the Emperor, but Napoleon, now assured that he can procreate, determined to separate from Josephine, does not want to. The presence of the young woman in Paris would disturb him as he prepares his second marriage. He asked the Countess to return to Poland and on October 13 - the Emperor left Vienna the next day - Marie took the road to Warsaw.

On December 18 - the divorce was pronounced on the 15th - from Trianon where he went to his departure from the Tuileries, Napoleon writes to the countess Walewska. How the tone has changed since the letters of May and June, and how the young woman must have suffered. It is no longer a lover, but the sovereign who speaks, only the concern for the child still shines through. "Madam, I received your letter. All that it contains touched me much. I was pleased to see that you arrived in Warsaw without any unpleasant accident. Take care of your health, which is very precious to me, and put away dark thoughts, the future should not worry you. Teach me that you are happy and content, that is my greatest desire."

Unconsciousness of men. It is almost in the same terms that the Emperor tries to console Josephine...

Happy? Happy? Marie is not happy while she is waiting for Napoleon's child so far away from him, while Caulaincourt seems to be about to sacrifice the Polish hopes in Saint-Petersburg... In 1807, prince Poniatowski asked countess Walewska not to reject the sovereign on whom the fate of Poland depends. In 1810, he probably asked Marie to come to Paris to defend the cause of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw and she agreed. Thus, she was in Paris at the beginning of 1810.

Marie Walewska looked sadly at the cradle. It is true that Napoleon welcomed her and spoke tenderly of the child she was carrying - a son, he had no doubt. But the young woman's heart is heavy. The Emperor had come the day before to bid her farewell. He would not see her again until she had given birth. What will Marie do? Stay in Paris? Retire to the country? To Warsaw? But can she return without the count's permission?

All of a sudden hurried footsteps, a panting courier. "A letter from Poland!"

The count's handwriting...

"Walewice, 21 February 1810

"Dear and honored wife,

"Walewice is more and more a burden to me, my age and state of health forbidding me any activity. I have come there for the last time, in order to sign the deed by which my eldest son acquires it.

"I advise you to come to an agreement with him about the formalities to be completed at the birth of the child you are expecting. They will be simplified if it is in Walewice that this Walewski is born.

"This is also his opinion, and that I write to you. I do so, conscious of fulfilling my duty, praying to God that he may have you in his care.

"Anastase Colonna Walewski".

Marie weeps with relief, with gratitude. Without wasting a minute, she claims her chaise de poste.

Poland is still under a blanket of snow when the Walewska princess arrives in Walewice. The young woman was pleased to see the long white house again, with its two wings covered by terraces and the triangular pedimented porch. This "colonial style" is surprising in the Polish plain: it is a memory of the veterans of the American War of Independence.

April soon brings its first greens, the buds burst in the woods. Marie Walewska takes long solitary walks. Her term is near. What will be the future of this child in whom Slavic and Latin blood are mixed? If it is a son, will he be a soldier, a diplomat? If it is a daughter, will she have fewer difficulties than her mother? What Marie wishes for her child is happiness...

On May 4, Countess Walewska gave birth to a son. At the end of his life Alexandre Walewski will write:

"My birth was accompanied by lightning and thunder, and it was predicted that my life would be stormy and even life-changing.

"To satisfy an old family prejudice, I was held at the font by two beggars, which was supposed to bring me luck... "

Three days pass, then on May 7 the priest of Walewice, acting as civil registrar, registers in the commune of Bielow that "Mgr Anastase de Walewski, staroste of Wareck, residing in Walewice, age of 73 years ", presented him "a child of the male sex, born in his palace on May 4 of the present year at four o'clock, by clarifying to us that he was born from his marriage with the lady Marie, nee de Laczynska, his wife . ... and that he intended to give her the following three names: Alexandre-Florian-Joseph. In view of this declaration, we have proceeded to the redaction of the birth certificate of the said child, in the presence of Mgr Stanislas de Walewski aged 30 years ... and of Mr. Joseph Ciekerski,doctor of medicine and surgeon deliverer ... which birth certificate was signed by us as well as by the above-mentioned and the required witnesses after reading made. "

Anastase Walewski thus fulfills all his duty towards a woman whose honesty and uprightness he appreciates. To this child who is nothing to him, he assures a name, a legitimate filiation, a heritage. This is a striking proof of the affection and esteem he has for Marie. Stanislaus Walewski is fully associated with this testimony by his presence in front of the priest of Walewice.

On his side the Emperor did not forget Marie.

On April 16 (1) he wrote to her: 

"Madam, I receive with great pleasure your news, but the dark ideas that I see that you nourish do not suit you well. I do not want you to have any. Teach me soon that you have a beautiful boy, that your health is good and that you are cheerful. Never doubt the pleasure I will have in seeing you and the tender interest I take in what concerns you. Farewell Marie, I await with confidence your news."

(1) When it was published, this letter was dated February 16. This date hardly seems acceptable. First of all, it is clearly a reply to a distant person whom the Emperor will have "pleasure in seeing". Above all, Napoleon knew that the child was due at the beginning of May and he could not hope that he would be born "soon" - prematurely. Date of April, when the young woman withdrew to Walewice, this text takes on its full meaning.

Leaving a few days later for Belgium and Holland with Marie-Louise, he is informed by quick couriers and, as soon as he knows the birth of Alexandre, he sends for the child Brussels lace and twenty thousand gold francs, for the mother, a very special tribute if we think of Napoleon's admiration for the poet, the works of Corneille, printed in Rouen in 1648, in a beautiful binding by Trantz. Does the Emperor want to signify to Marie that she has the high and tender soul of a Chimene, that he remembers her faithful and generous love?

Napoleon called the young woman back to France on September 3. After thanking her for the news brought by her brother, Theodore Laczynski, he adds in effect: "If your health is well recovered, I desire that you come on the end of autumn to Paris where I desire very much to see you... "

An amicable agreement is then definitively reached between Marie and the count Walewski. The latter gives her a large part of his fortune and entrusts her with the custody of their son Antoine. In Paris Marie Walewska moves back to rue du Houssaye. The months pass. Marie lives far from the court, does not meet Napoleon who, all occupied with Marie-Louise, seems to be interested in the young woman and her son. Finally, in February 1811, the Emperor came to see little Alexandre. It is a beautiful blond child, but whose dark complexion recalls that of the Bonapartes. He has the round head of the Latins, the high and wide forehead of his father, his eyebrow, his mouth and his chin, but the eye does not have the deep blue of the Corsican, reflection of the Mediterranean, it does not have either the sparkle which had always to brighten in the imperial pupil, the brown eye of Alexandre is pleasant and merry. A second visit follows the first one, then it is the rupture, without clashes, without discussion, like a fruit that has reached maturity.

Napoleon, however, is very concerned about the material well-being of Countess Walewska, to whom Duroc brings ten thousand francs every month. Especially the future of his son. On the eve of leaving Paris for Russia, on May 5, 1812, he made the young woman come to the Tuileries and gave her a patent which instituted in favor of Alexandre a majorat of one hundred and seventy thousand pounds of income, with the title of count. The majorat is established on goods situated in the kingdom of Naples.

One evening in January 1813, Alexandre was awakened with a start. Dressed in a hurry, he was taken to his mother.

"Two elderly men were with him, one of whom took me on his lap and kissed me. His physiognomy made a deep impression on me; it was certainly the first memory of his life."

The Emperor's solicitude for his Polish son did not waver. In the middle of the dark hours of the French campaign, fearing that Murat would confiscate the first endowment, he charged his treasurer general, M. de La Bouillerie, to establish a new majorat of fifty thousand pounds of rent on the canals for the young Walewski; he also had a hotel at 48, rue de la Vicioire, bought in the name of Alexandre for 137,500 francs, of which Marie was the usufructuary (1).

Come the great reverses. In the defeated Emperor, abandoned by his former companions, Marie Walewska sees only the man who has loved her, whom she has loved. She runs to Fontainebleau and is announced. Napoleon, absorbed, does not see her again immediately, and then does not think about her anymore. Weary of body and soul, he looks for oblivion and rest in poison, but does not find it.

All night long, in an anteroom, Marie waits for him to call her. In the morning, she finally goes away, discreet, fearing to be unwelcome. The Emperor learns a few hours later of her apparent negligence. "The poor woman," he murmured, "will think she has been forgotten," and on April 16 he was anxious to reassure her. "Marie, I have received your letter of the 15th, the feelings that you have expressed touch me deeply. They are worthy of your beautiful soul and the goodness of your heart. When you have arranged your affairs, if you want to go to the waters of Lucca or Pisa, I will see you with great and lively interest, as well as your son for whom my feelings are invariable. Be well, think of me with pleasure and never doubt me.”

(1) On February 4, from Nogent, he writes in his own hand to La Bouillerie: "I have received your letter relative to young Walewski. I leave you carte blanche. Do what is convenient but do it immediately. What interests me is above all the child, the mother afterwards."     A judgment of the court of the Seine, of April 4, 1818, will authorize the tutor of the "minor" Walewski it to sell the hotel of the rue de la Victoire and it to replace the funds produced by this sale in the purchase of Walewice of which Stanislas Walewski wants to get rid.

In August 1814 Marie Walewska travels to Italy with her son, her sister Emilie and her brother Theodore. The Emperor encouraged her again on August 9: 

"Marie, I have received your letter, I have spoken to your brother. Go to Naples to arrange your affairs. On my way there or on my way back, I will see you with the interest you have always inspired in me, and the little one of whom I hear so much good news that I am truly happy and will be happy to embrace him. Farewell, Madame, a hundred tender things.”

On September 1 Marie arrived on the island of Elba with her son, Emilie and Theodore. Immediately a rumor spread among the population and the small garrison: Marie-Louise and the King of Rome had just arrived. The good people are mistaken. The Viennese woman of light soul and weak flesh is in Aix, already all in Neipperg.

Is Napoleon going to retain Marie who has come to offer him her life? Certainly he is moved to find her always so faithful and so generous. But the Emperor thinks first of the Empress, first of the King of Rome, and he fears that Marie-Louise, warned of the coming of the Polish girl, will take the pretext not to join him. Surprisingly, does he not guess that the choice is already made?

In any case, he receives Marie Walewska in a half-mystery, at the hermitage of the Madonna.

Leaving the countess the three rooms of the little house, Napoleon settles for the night in a tent under the chestnut trees. When he came out in the morning, he found Alexandre playing. He called him, sat down on a chair, took the child in his lap, then sent for Foureau de Beauregard, the doctor who had followed him to Elba, and the latter wrote to Alexandre Walewski on June 22, 1843: "You are that pretty little Alexandre that I saw, almost twenty-nine years ago, on the Emperor's lap near the Madonna delle Grazie on the island of Elba.”

“The Emperor wanted the child, who had no youngster with him, to be there," says Marchand. The Emperor placed Mme. Walewska's son next to him, he was very good at first, but it didn't last long and, as his mother reproached him, the Emperor said to him: "So you are not afraid of the whip? Well! I urge you to fear it; I have only received it once and I have always remembered it." Napoleon then tells how one day when he had mocked his grandmother's clumsy walk, Madame Mere had firmly corrected him. "The child had listened with the greatest attention, the Emperor said to him: 'Well, what do you say to that?’— ‘But I don't make fun of Mama,' he said with a little air of contrition which pleased the Emperor, who kissed him and said: 'That's well answered.’"

Rare picture of Napoleon with his Polish son.

That same evening, September 2, Marie Walewska took the road to Naples again in small steps. The endowment of Alexandre, confiscated on September 15 with all the other French endowments of the kingdom of Naples, is restored on November 30. Perhaps on the intervention of Caroline, who always liked Marie Walewska? Perhaps Murat had some shame to add a meanness to his betrayals? In any case the Emperor was satisfied and he told the King of Naples on February 17, 1815, adding: "I recommend her to you and especially her son who is very dear to me. "She came to Paris in the spring of 1838 and was ‘touched by the assiduous care’ that Walewski gave her during her stay. Caroline Murat wrote to him on November 23: "I am sending you the letter from the Emperor that I had promised you; you will see in it the proofs of the affection that he had for you... "

The countess Walewska lingers in Naples. Alexandre will keep a vague but pleasant memory of this stay, of the toys that he received there. At the beginning of 1815 the mother and the child embarked for France. Caught by a corsair, they escaped him in great difficulty.

Marie learned of the death of the count in Walewice on January 18, 1815. Now that she is free, what will she do with her life? To marry General d'Ornano, who has been courting her for a long time and for whom she has a deep inclination? Perhaps... She has hardly had time to decide when on March 1, 1815 Napoleon lands in Golfe-Juan.

It is the prestigious return, the intoxicating reception of Paris, the feverish days of work. Before the departure for the plains of Flanders where the imperial eagle will fall, Marie, always faithful heart, goes to the Elysee with her son. Alexandre found the visitor from the rue du Houssaye at the palace. He wears, as on the island of Elba, a blue uniform with a white lapel. "He told my mother that he was going to leave for a campaign. He asks me if I want to go with him. My mother refused. ‘Well madam, I will take him by force.’” These words still ring in my ears. "

Waterloo, the second abdication, the halt at Malmaison. Marie once again comes to the Emperor. So many bonds united them, gratitude for the resurrected Poland, and then love, and then the child. Without a doubt, she is ready to accompany him in this exile from which Napoleon's immense weariness, after a life so full and so ardent, awaits rest. But he does not accept, happiness is no longer for him, he enters the legend.

Despite the clear light of this beautiful summer day, everything is sad and gloomy on this June 26 and Malmaison is a kingdom of shadows: shadow of Josephine, unfaithful and charming, shadow of Duroc and Bessieres, shadow of the madman Junot, shadow of the absent ones too, Eugene, Murat, the companions of glory and youth, shadow of Talleyrand and Fouche who betrayed him, shadow above all of this young consul who took France in his arms and with a sincere effort straightened it.

Marie and the Emperor speak at length. Alexandre, serious and silent, listens to them without understanding. The countess is crying softly, she would like to retain Napoleon, to persuade him not to abandon himself to destiny. It is a vain effort, the Emperor does not hear her, nor does he hear Hortense. Marie finally decides to leave and Napoleon leans over to the child and gives him a long kiss. Later the man made, the wall man who became ambassador, then minister of the resurrected empire, will remember that he thought he saw a tear running down the cheek of the defeated of Waterloo.

Three more days the slow agony continues, three more days Marie returns to Malmaison and on June 29 she will be among the last faithful who, on the threshold of the house, will see the Emperor sinking with a firm step into the park, crossing the small gate, will hear the door of the heavy car slamming while the bells of the church of Rueil ring...

* * *

A long year... Europe catches its breath, gets used to the absence of the man who for fifteen years has dominated it and who disappeared at the bottom of the Atlantic.

On September 7, 1816 Marie Walewska married Ornano, who had been exiled by the Restoration, in St. Gudula in Brussels. Antoine and Alexandre Walewski stayed in Paris. Under the guidance of M. Carite, a friend on whom the countess entrusted the education of her children, and of an old valet, Andre, the two little ones join the Ornanos at the waters of Chaudfontaine near Liege. The new household moved soon after to Liege itself, in a charming house on rue Mandeville, today rue de la Fragnee. On June 9, 1817, a son, Rodolphe, was born. After his release from exile, Ornano returned to Paris with his wife in October 1817, but Marie died soon after, on December 11.

In her will Madame d'Ornano entrusted the guardianship of her Polish sons to her brother Theodore Laczynski, who was in Paris at the time. "He will have to report frequently to my dear husband on the state of Alexandre's health, to take his advice when this child will be of school age. Place him in a school where his father-in-law will be able to go and visit him sometimes and supervise his education... "

Laczynski takes the two orphans to Kiernozia in Poland. Alexandre likes this quiet and patriarchal life. Memories of the imperial era haunt the house. In the evening, Antoine and Alexandre linger in the living room. Theodore Laczvnski takes the lead in the conversation, he talks about the French Revolution, Paris, the imperial campaigns, especially about the Emperor. As Duroc's aide-de-camp, the Pole often approached Napoleon. The children, with bright eyes, listen "with indefinable interest". Laczynski's dream is to go to Saint Helena, to take his wards there...

After a few happy months in the country, Theodore Laczynski decides to settle in Warsaw and gives the children whose education cannot be neglected any longer a tutor. A strange choice. The times decidedly wanted it. While Queen Hortense entrusted Louis-Napoleon to the son of the conventionnel Le Bas, the young Walewskis, in their snows, were given to a certain Muller, a "philosopher teacher" as he called himself, of a very advanced republicanism. Laczynski quickly separates from the astonishing character and, in order to restore the balance, his pupils spend half a year in a Jesuit college in Warsaw, where Alexandre makes his first communion. Then they left for Geneva in 1820.

Napoleon's son stayed there for four years. After a happy, pampered life with the gentle and tender woman who was his mother, the child had two more easy years. Now here he is, thrown alone - his brother Antoine is leaving him soon (1) - in a new, even hostile environment, in a foreign city whose Protestant austerity must have clashed with the Catholic heredity of this Pole with Latin roots. And yet, as he himself wrote, it was from this period that his spiritual life began. The city of Calvin suits this calm, somewhat soft temperament. No flashes of anger or outbursts. Order, measure, a certain fundamental rigidity. In Geneva, one day in the summer of 1821, the child of Wagram, the one who prayed for the Emperor because he was his father, learns of the death of the captive of Saint Helena.

(1)Recalled probably by the tsar. Antoine Walewski died young, without children from his marriage to Constance Grotowska.

No trace in the memories of the imprisoned man of what he thought, felt... Did he ever know, except by the cold instructions to the executors of his will, that Napoleon, although absorbed by the concern for his imperial son, nevertheless thought of his Polish son, recommended him to Bertrand, expressed the wish that he enter a regiment of lancers, and above all that he become a Frenchman. "He is really of my blood, and that is also something."

Alexandre Walewski is a boarder at the Academy's rector's house, which receives about twenty young people. His lavish lifestyle, the apartment, the governor, the servant, attracted jealousy and bullying. In spite of his young age, Alexandre decides to avoid a situation which, if it goes on too long, will become painful. He gets the governor recalled, keeps the servant but puts him at the service of the community. He has easy money - his hands will always be wide open -, he lends to his comrades and shows himself to be generous. He is a serious, authoritarian boy, aware of his importance. The traits of his character, which we will find again during his life, are already marked: he is honest, upright, but he is neither cheerful nor fanciful. He evokes his life in Geneva as follows: "I was at twelve very tall for my age, and I considered myself a young man; so much so that I was already going a little into the world, to balls, to little parties... I stayed in Geneva for four years. I left Geneva on an order from the emperor of Russia."

* * * 

On his return to Poland in 1824, Alexandre Walewski was emancipated by his tutor. He settled in Walewice, where he led a stately life. Princess Jablonowska, a sexagenarian cousin who had once been the friend and confidante of Maria Walewska, helped him to entertain. The house of the young man, of this so young man, is soon to be very sought after.

Precocious from a worldly point of view, Alexandre Walewski is also precocious with women. The Latin blood is hot, the Slavic blood as well. Judging by what he wrote in the first draft of his memoirs, shortly after his arrival in Walewice, Alexandre had an affair. He had an affair with a "vulgar girl" that left him feeling disgusted and that would keep him away from such promiscuity in the future. The numerous women who will mark out his life will be from now on women of talent or: women of quality.

On December 22, 1825, Alexandre sends to the General d'Ornano his wishes for the new year. This letter, green, charming, which confirms the impression of maturity of a boy who is not sixteen years old, also reveals the affectionate feelings that he feels for his stepfather.

“It is nearly three months since I wrote to you and many things have happened since I took possession of my land in Walewice. First of all, the castle was repaired, which was in great need of it, and then my good cousin wanted the whole region to hear, with loud trumpeting, that I had become its lord. More than a hundred people did us the honor of attending the magnificent ball that she gave. It was very cold outside, but fortunately there was no snow that night. I was celebrated and saw people from the past whom I pretended to recognize and who were charmed by it. The dowagers even kissed me, but not the young girls, which would have pleased me more. I made up for it by dancing with several of them.

"I must confess also that I fell several times into the sin of pride. I don't know who said anything about my academic successes, but I have been in the hot seat and have been made to take part in political, diplomatic, literary, and I don't know what else conversations. How many compliments have I heard about my intelligence, my reason, the power of my arguments, etc., etc., etc.? And then I noticed that the girls preferred me to many other dancers. As the lessons given to me were profitable, I remembered that it was especially necessary to court ladies of canonical age and they brought back to me very flattering appreciations on my modest person, expressed by exquisite mouths...

"General Zayonczek is one of my most frequent visitors... He rambles a little, but this does not affect his memory. He remembers very well all that happened in Warsaw when the Emperor came there before the battle of Eylau... He is very popular with the great Duke and even with the Czar's court. Some people criticize him, but I think it is good that we have our great men in favor. It can only be useful for us...

"We will reopen the Warsaw hotel in a few days. Ah! if we could see you there!

"Your tender and respectful Alexandre. "

Son of the patriot Marie Walewska, son of the Emperor, Alexandre attracts Polish hopes. He would gladly be taken as a standard bearer. Grand Duke Constantine, the skillful and often benevolent governor of the kingdom, wanted to neutralize him. He offers him to join the Russian army, to become his aide-de-camp. The young man "stubbornly" refused. He was put under police surveillance and told to leave the country. Tsar Alexandre had once recommended that Napoleon's Polish son should never be allowed to go to France: his brother remembered this.

Alexandre decides to escape. With a passport obtained at a high price, he goes to St. Petersburg and hides there, waiting for a favorable opportunity to gain more free land. He learns that the police are looking for him to bring him back to Warsaw where his fate will be decided. Four hundred leagues on foot, a probable prison do not tempt the Pole. He had to escape at all costs. He reached Kronstadt and boarded a steamer bound for England. The police have found his trail, and they launch an armed barge in pursuit of him, ordering him to stop: inadvertently or unwillingly, the captain does not obey the summons and, thanks to his superior speed, makes it to the open sea.

* * * 

In London, Walewski received an enthusiastic welcome from the elegant society, the opposition. The Whigs, that is, the Liberals, have always regretted the treatment of the Emperor, and Lord Holland has protested in the House of Lords against the conditions of captivity. With Napoleon gone, the regrets became remorse...

In spite of the attentions of which he is the object, the young man does not linger in England. He will return there with pleasure and in 1828 he will spend several months: summer, autumn, making a long stay in Chatworth at the Duke of Devonshire, the most prominent of the great Whig lords. But it is in Paris that Walewski intends to settle down. He arrived there in the autumn of 1827. He found his father-in-law, with him Flahaut, Sebastiani, Gerard, veterans of the time. The salons of the Faubourg Saint Honore, of liberal tendency, receive him with great pleasure. He is charming at his entrance in the Parisian world, this young Walewski. Slim, slender, elegant, he has beautiful dark eyes and a dreamy smile. His slight accent adds to his charm when he courts a woman, and he waltzes divinely - like a Slav.

And then, isn't he called the natural son of Man? The Marechal de Castellane notes on November 1, 1827: "At Mme de Flahaut's, I saw for the first time a young M. Walewski, son of Mme Walewska and of the Emperor Napoleon. He has the eyes, the sound of his father's voice, he is taller than him and very well turned out (1)."

(1) Many years later Walewski pronounced the eulogy of the count of Rayneval. An old general of the Empire suddenly begins to cry. "I attended the farewell that the Emperor made to his guard at Fontainebleau and I just heard the sound of his voice.”

What is more surprising, the faubourg Saint-Germain, stronghold of the ultras, is infatuated with Walewski who becomes the darling of the "ultra-duchesses" according to Lady Morgan. Haussonville on his side confirms it to us. "The debuts of Count Walewski took place, singularly enough, under the auspices of what is most exclusive and purest in the aristocratic society of Paris. It was as if it were a watchword among the most sought-after ladies of the Faubourg Saint-Germain to give the most benevolent welcome to the young man whose features were strikingly reminiscent, but with a pleasant and gentle physiognomy, of those of a famous mask. The first of these was the one who was to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be the first to be of a man who was not a man of the world. He let the most haughtiest women, those who were about to consider themselves the prettiest or the wittiest, put themselves to the expense for him, either of brilliant toilet or of beautiful spirit, each one according to the means of seduction which suited her best. Thus, every evening in the fashionable salons, there was a real race to the bell tower between a learned marquise... who affected to speak to each ambassador the language of her country and a beautiful duchess [it seems to be the duchess de Guiche] who was then in Paris the type of the sovereign elegance. Between these ladies the bets were open and the chances seemed doubtful, Walewski taking care to share equally between them his discreet attentions...”

A cloud rises however on the horizon. Pozzo di Borgo, the Russian ambassador, a Corsican who had been in the service of the tsar, pursued with a Corsican hatred all that was Bonaparte. He asks for the extradition of Walewski, this "rebel, fugitive from the Russian Empire". By order of Charles X, who doesn't like Pozzo, Villele, on the eve of leaving the ministry, refuses it. Walewski could stay in France on condition that he avoided official circles and made himself forgotten.

Life is very pleasant in these last years of the Restoration. Lady Blessington has left us a pleasant picture of the society of the time. The manners are ceremonious and the young people surround the old women with delicate attentions, whether it is a flattering silence when the beautiful ones of the past are remembered or a lively eagerness to render them small services: handkerchief, bouquet or fan picked up, shawl placed on cold shoulders. France is the paradise of old women, especially if they are witty, England is the purgatory, says the Englishwoman without ambiguity. The amorous intrigues are discreet, hidden from the public, and those whose affair is best known affect the most reserved manners. Hypocrisy perhaps, but the Parisian world takes on an air of dignity and decency.

Once a week, the women of quality open their salons to a circle of intimates who meet like-minded people every evening in a friendly house. Small closed coteries, where strangers are not admitted. For them, balls, dinners and parties in full dress. For the regulars, the amiable negligence of the half-clothes and the free, unceremonial chat. “Yesterday I went to a small party at Madame de Jumilhac's [a sister of the Duke of Richelieu] where Walewski served as my introducer," said the Pole Andre Kosmian on November 7, 1829. “Without being rich, she received three times a week the flower of the Parisian world. Her small salon is only open to ten or twelve people at a time. It is very difficult to be admitted. I owed this favor to Walewski who is the gate child of these ladies."

Walewski likes this refined society as much as he likes it. He is linked with the due de Chartres. They are tall, one dark, the other blond, they look alike and for three winters they never leave each other. Walewski also met Thiers at Madame de Flahaut's house: their friendship will never be denied. He finally met Morny, the son of Flahaut and Queen Hortense. "They are both of distinguished and graceful manners, without support, gifted with an air as it should be which is in them as a native gift... "

Lady Blessington, a very good judge, noted in 1829: "The more I see Count Walewski, the more I like him. He has the spirit, intuition and perfect manners. I have always considered it a good sign for a young man to like the society of old people and Count Walewski marks the preference for men of age to be his father."

When the count d'Orsay and the due de Guiche create in 1828 the circle of the Union, Walewski joins one of the first. He found there many Englishmen, Lord Granville, the English ambassador who had married a sister of the Duke of Devonshire and whose son was to be a minister in 1852. Caradoc, the future opponent of Walewski in La Plata, Normanby. He also met Talleyrand... There is a lot of talk about horses, it is a passion of the time and also a fashion. The races begin to be very popular at the Champ-de-Mars and at the Bois de Boulogne. Walewski goes there with assiduity. He runs and plays...

“In the meantime, I attended horse races for the first time in my life," Kosmian said in November 1829. Unfortunately, they ended in a way that was unpleasant for Walewski, because Walewski was always doing crazy things, throwing money out of the window. In England and here in Paris, he lost at cards up to a hundred thousand francs. Having stopped on the slope, he no longer plays cards, but, which amounts to the same thing, he plays at the races. There is a very rich Englishman here, Lord Seymour [Milord l'Arsouille], who lives only for horses and for whom betting on races is a passion. He is the one who is constantly pestering poor Walewski. Last Saturday, they had only two, each on his own horse. Walewski rode an English racehorse; Seymour a hunting horse; but Walewski had to carry sixty pounds more! Everyone who knew anything about racing said in advance that Walewski was making a fool of himself and that he would lose. He wouldn't listen to anyone - and lost. The stake was five thousand francs. He has seventy-five thousand pounds of income; what a comfortable and pleasant life he could lead. Perfectly well seen in the world, universally loved... But one has to tell him the truth... he doesn't want to hear anything until now. It is a great pity because what a good and noble nature it is and of how much pleasure in society ... "

The year 1829 had been cheerful, the beginning of the year 1830 is not less. On February 9 a great masked ball was organized by Mrs. Alexandre de Girardin in the concert hall of the rue Taitbout. Mme. Alfred de Noailles intrigues during one hour Rodolphe Apponyi, the king of the cotillion leaders; on the other hand, he recognizes at first sight the princess of Lieven and both of them go in the box of Walewski so that they intrigue their turn.

Alexandre is twenty years old on May 4, 1830. He is a man. Will he continue to waste his life in frivolity, thinking only of the world, of women, of races, of gambling? Does he forget the hopes cherished by his mother, does he remember that his father wanted him to be a soldier? Will he, who is free, get bogged down in the pleasures of Paris like the Duke of Reichstadt, he who is a prisoner, in the soft life of Austria? Will the sons of Napoleon be only dandies?

Walewski was a calm observer of the Three Glorious Years, and the return of the tricolor flag, which his father had flown in Vienna, Berlin and Moscow, did not arouse any echo in him. Polish by mother, Polish by heart, Polish by nationality if not by language (1), only the tocsin of Warsaw is going to move him, to awaken him suddenly.

(1) Walewski was not fluent in Polish. Joseph Tanski tells that when he came to London in 1854 to talk to the ambassador about projects he did not wish to see revealed, he offered to speak Polish to Walewski, the valet being present in the room. The latter refused, admitting that he could not sustain the conversation.

#alexandre walewski #marie walewska #napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #polish history #francoise bernardy #long post #translation #joachim murat #caroline bonaparte #d'ornano

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𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ~ 𝐃.𝐇 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Just a little idea that’s been in my head for a while :)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Um? Aliens? Bad language? Bad writing?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: There was nothing left, no one left. No one but you and the shy little girl you had learnt to love as a daughter. The two of you were surviving, praying to god that the company would rescue you, not realizing that it would only bring more danger, and introduce you to some of the most important people of your life.

You and Newt followed the marines through what remained of the complex, keeping her close to you and flinching at every small sound.

Your footsteps were echoing dangerously loudly through the desolate corridors, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of them knowing exactly where you were, and you were sure that by now they did.

Between the misfires, footsteps and terrible attempts at whispering, you were just a herd of lambs waiting for the slaughter, helpless and afraid.

“This is it.” A voice from the front of the group said as you reached Operations.

Your grip on Newts shoulder tightened as the door slid open with a hiss, and everyone was quickly ushered inside.

“Right.” A man said, smaller and far less intimidating then the others. “I need a medic for the survivors, and I want to speak with them when they’ve been cleared to see if we can find out what happened here. Ripley, you stay with them-” You noticed some of the soldiers rolling their eyes as he spoke, and the man who had helped you up let out a small chuckle. -”The rest of you are going to be with me and Apone.”

The marines lazily followed the man and ‘Apone’ towards the other side of the room, surrounded by computers and screens that probably wouldn’t even be any help.

A woman approached you and Newt with a somewhat sympathetic smile. “Who wants to go first?”

Newt’s eyes widened, scared, and you took a small step forward, silently letting the woman know that you’d be going first.

She gestured towards an empty desk and you were able to push yourself up onto it with a bit of struggle, only now realizing how much muscle you had lost since all of this began.

The woman began a standard medical exam as Ripley stood not too far behind her, placing a supportive hand on Newt’s shoulder as she watched you with wide eyes, observing the way the woman checked your eyes, ears, mouth and heart rate amongst other things.

“You’re physically fine, so there’s nothing to worry about there.” The woman said to you, taking a step back for you to push yourself up off the desk. “Have you got a name?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should trust these people. You knew they had been sent to rescue you, but they also had no idea what they were dealing with, and they had been sent by the company.

Ripley nodded encouragingly at you, and you opened your mouth, struggling to find the words. You and Newt had learnt to communicate either silently or as quietly as possible, and your throat was already aching from shouting earlier.

“Y/n.” You croaked out. “Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n.” Ripley repeated, and you nodded. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as the other woman gestured for Newt to come forward. “It’s ok sweetie.” You said when you noticed how hesitant she was. “She just wants to make sure you’re nice and healthy.”

Newt slowly made her way forward, and you felt concern and worry rise in your chest as the marine picked her up and sat her on the desktop you hand just been on. After everything you’d been through together, you thought of Newt as a baby sister, or daughter even, and the only person you truly trusted with her was yourself.

Newt’s medical exam began, and a voice from behind you caused you to jump.

“Update?”

It was the same man from earlier, the one you had seen the marines rolling their eyes and snickering at.

“Hello to you too Gorman.” The medic smiled tightly at him. “The older one, Y/n, seems to be as healthy as she could be given the situation. I still have to check over the child though.”

“Good.” Gorman said, looking over towards you. “Now ma’am, Y/n, if you wouldn’t mind following me, we’ll get you something to eat and drink, and ask you a few questions.”

You looked over to Newt, wanting to stay with her, but the other part of you knew that you didn’t want to discuss all of this with Newt around. She had been exposed to so much, but she was still a child and it was your job to keep her as shielded as possible from it all now, keeping what remained of her innocence intact.

“Go.” Ripley said to you, with kind eyes. “I’ll watch her, make sure she’s safe until you get back.”

Something about the way she said it reassured you, and after a moment of hesitation you nodded.

“Ok.” You looked at Gorman, and he gestured toward the marines, who had all spread out by now and were doing their own tasks. “Follow me.”

The two of you walked through the Operations room, and you felt stares as you followed Gorman to a small group of about three marines who were seated by the door to what looked like a break room.

“Any requests?” He asked, throwing a glance towards the break room.

You felt your mouth begin to salivate. You hadn’t drank anything but dirty water for the past few weeks, and you almost forgot that other beverages existed.

“Coffee?” You asked in a tiny voice, sounding far more broken and defeated than it had when they had found you.

When they had first found you they had seen the hard exterior you had to put on to survive, a woman who would do anything and everything to keep herself and Newt safe, a woman who you wouldn’t even recognize in the mirror. Now they saw the real you; the you that came out when Newt was sleeping and you were crying silently beside her, mourning what your lives had once been.

This you was a broken shell of the past you, merely a weak, exhausted twenty year old woman whose life had been snatched away from her far too early.

“Hicks?” Gorman asked, taking a seat at the desk. “Fancy making the lady a coffee?”

You cast your eyes over to Hicks as he let out a small sigh, and felt your breath hitch in your throat as you realized you had finally put a name to the handsome face who had helped you up.

“No problem.” He said, looking at you instead of Gorman. “C’mon.”

You followed him into the break room, feeling guilty as he pulled out a mug and made his way to the coffee machine.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, surprised if he’d even be able to hear you.

“For what?” His eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head to look at you, seemingly shocked that you were apologizing.

“Well this isn’t exactly your job is it?” You asked, and you winced at your raspy voice. “Making coffee for rescued colonists?”

He let out a small chuckle, in turn causing you to smile, something you hadn’t done in a long, long time.

“No, I can’t say it is. I’d rather be in here with you then out there with Gorman though.” He said, turning on the coffee machine and fiddling around with it.

It was your turn to let out a small laugh.

“Yeah he doesn’t seem to be too popular around here. Can’t imagine why.”

Hicks exhaled sharply through his teeth. “Well if you need help we made a list last night.”

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around yourself. Laughing felt foreign to you after having gone so long without it. There wasn’t much to smile at in this miserable joint, let alone laugh at, and it felt strange to you.

“I don’t even wanna know if that’s true or not.” You shook your head as the two of you waited for the coffee machine to finish.

A comfortable silence fell over the small room, and you found yourself closing your eyes, pretending it was normal for just a few seconds.

“So.” Hicks said, pulling you out of the fantasy and causing your eyes to snap open. “Why, if you don’t mind me asking, were you so afraid?”

You tilted your head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“When we first found you.” He elaborated. “You know that we’re here to help, right?”

You let out a sigh and ran a hand through your greasy hair.

“Look, no offense Hicks, but you were sent here by the company. I don’t exactly trust the guys up there if you know what I mean.” You said, peering out the door at a civilian looking man wearing a suit, who had obviously been sent by Weyland Yutani. “I think I’d be better off surviving on my own than trusting them.”

He just nodded, taking your words in before the coffee machine beeped, interrupting.

He poured the hot liquid into the mug and handed it to you. A small smile appeared on his face as he watched you gently blow on it and take your first sip of coffee in weeks.

“Beautiful.” You said with your eyes closed, savoring the taste.

He let out a small chuckle, and the two of you headed out of the room, joining Gorman and the others at the desk.

You took an empty seat and placed your coffee on the desk, missing the warmth from your hands.

“Ok Y/n,” Gorman said, jumping straight to the point. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

You let out a shaky breath and jammed your hands into the pockets of your thin jacket.

“Umm, well, I suppose it began when a few colonists were sent out to some coordinates. No one really knows what happened out there, they kept everything confidential, but when they came back...” You trailed off, staring out the window into the wasteland, wondering where the hell that thing had come from.

“Y/n?” Gorman asked.

“Sorry.” You let out an unsure chuckle. “Uh, yeah. They came back with this, this thing wrapped around the face of one of them, and uh, he kinda just went straight into medical. Barely any of us colonists were aware, so when it came off he kind of just went back to his normal life, and then,” you sucked in a sharp breath and when you started to speak again your voice was shaky, “then I remember one day, he was walking through the hallway, and I had been there, walking towards him. He um, he got these chest pains or something, and the next thing we all knew he was letting out these awful, awful screams, and some- something came out of his chest.”

You looked at the faces around you, all with sympathetic expressions, silently encouraging you to go on.

“There was blood everywhere. We weren’t able to get him to a doctor in time, and he died there in front of me. The thing that came out of him though, it was shrieking, and it ran off before anyone managed to get a good look at it really.” You felt yourself choking up as you relived the horrible memories. “And since that day more and more people just started disappearing, and the people who went looking for them never returned either. Some of us wanted to fight back, tried building barricades and fighting with everything they had, others, like me hid. Newt and I are the only ones left.”

Gorman let out a deep sigh from beside you. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” You said with a sad smile on your face. Some sick and twisted part of you was happy, glad that you had managed to survive instead of dying alongside your friends and family. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” You pushed yourself up from the chair and picked up your cup of coffee. “I have to go check on Newt.”

“I’ll join you.” Gorman said.

You gave him a small nod as the two of you stood, briefly meeting Hicks’ eye before turning and walking to where you could see Ripley and Newt.

You and Gorman walked side by side towards them, watching as Ripley gently wiped Newt’s face with a cloth.

“Hi baby.” You smiled at her as you reached her, before looking at Ripley. “Thank you.”

“No problem, I was just cleaning up Rebecca’s face.” Ripley said with a comforting smile, something about it was oddly maternal and it put you at ease.

“Newt.” Came a small voice from beside you.

“What?” Ripley asked, shocked at her speaking.

“My name is Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca, except my brother.”

Ripley smiled again.

“Newt? I like that.”

“How did you know her name was Rebecca?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Her colonist ID number was stitched into her jacket.” Ripley explained. “I got Hudson to run it through your system.”

You nodded, keeping your mouth shut. You had spoken enough today, and your throat was starting to pay the consequences.

Gorman took the cap on his head off and turned to Ripley, speaking quietly.

“Ripley, based off of Y/n’s story we believe that your alien was here too, and lots of them. Right now I’ve got Hudson scanning for PDT’s to find out where all of these colonists are, and I need you to be ready when we find them.”

“I got it.” Ripley said, giving him a tight smile as he turned and walked off.

The lieutenant made his way over to where a few marines, Hicks included, were now huddled around a computer screen.

“So who’s this, hmm?” Ripley asked Newt, picking up the doll head she had found in the trash last week.

“Casey.” Newt mumbled.

“Hello Casey.” Ripley tilted her head sideways, getting a good look at the doll. “What about your brother?” She looked back at Newt. “What’s his name?”

“Timmy.”

“Is Timmy around here too?” Ripley asked and you nudged her gently, trying to silently tell her to drop it.

Newt stayed silent.

“No.” You said. “Can we drop this now?”

“Sorry.” Ripley said quietly. “What about you guys? How did you meet?”

“We bumped into each other in an air vent.” You let out a small laugh. “We both had found food, and decided to share it, and we’ve been together since.”

“Well I’m glad the two of you managed to find each other.” She said.

“I-” You were cut off abruptly by a voice from the group of marines.

“Yo! Stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen! Found ‘em.”

Your heart stopped. Had they found the rest of the colonists?

#the alien franchise #aliens (1986) #dwayne hicks #hicks #corporal hicks #imagine #dwayne hicks x reader #hicks x reader #corporal hicks x reader #underrated characters

[gay-otlc]

Keepers of the Chaos (Chapter 2)

Summary: Tam, Linh, Keefe, Biana, and Fitz are part of the tiny fandom for Keeper of the Chaos, and Tam and Linh's podcast convinces some of their other friends to watch it as well. The group finds themselves strangely invested in this show, where students at Tumblr High School who work together to write about an elf named Sophia, cause incomprehensible chaos, and fight their rival Pinterest High School.

Content warnings: Cursing, food, L*ura

Word count: 2005

Notes: Check out the beautiful theme song here!

(Read on AO3)

Sophie rolls her eyes as she opens the link her girlfriend sent her and puts in her earbuds. Biana has been incessantly pestering her to watch Keepers of the Chaos for so long that Sophie half wants to watch it just to shut her up, but she's always tired, or busy, and she doesn't really like watching new things. Still, Biana asked her very nicely to listen to this one podcast, and she looked very pretty when she asked, so Sophie's dumb omni ass couldn't refuse.

"Welcome to the Twins of the Chaos podcast," it begins after loading for an obnoxiously long time. The girl speaking has a pretty voice, Sophie has to admit- sweet and melodic and vaguely amused.

Maybe listening to this podcast won't be so bad if she can listen to that girl's voice the whole time.

But another person speaks, adding "Where some chaotic twins discuss our favorite show, Keepers of the Chaos," and his voice is not as pretty. She continues listening anyway, since Biana may or may not murder her if she stops.

The two voices- whose names are Linh and Tam, apparently- start talking about Keepers of the Chaos some more, giving Sophie a summary she's heard tons of times from Biana and Fitz- though the twins explain it slightly more coherently and with less... whatever the verbal equivalent of keyboard smashing is. Biana usually starts rambling about her favorite characters, like Lynn- not "Lynn the fandom mom," but the other Lynn- and Avery, or sometimes Nora and Darwin. Sophie doesn't understand any of those names and loses track of the conversation as soon as it involves too many unfamiliar names.

But Tam and Linh are making more sense, at least for the most part, until they start mentioning specific couples. The conversation gets again comprehensive soon enough, though, and Sophie does smile at the name "The Dark Duck."

By the end, when Tam says "half of them wearing sleeping masks with teal eyes painted on and the other half watching the chaos with mild amusement," Sophie is curious enough to be mildly intrigued. She listens to their outro music, and before she can regret it, types out a text message to Biana.

Sophie: fine

Sophie: ill watch it

Biana responds instantly with an array of heart emojis. Sophie blushes.

Biana: can i come over and watch with u?

Sophie: ok!

Sophie: moms making mallowmelt

Sophie: but u cant have any

Biana: >:(

Biana: hope u like being single then

Sophie: fine u can have some mallowmelt

Biana: yayyyy!

Biana: ily

Sophie: ilyt

Sophie: now lets watch ur stupid show

Biana: on my way!!!

Sophie smiles, shaking her head. She's a little annoyed, but fine, it sounds interesting enough from the podcast. And what else would she be doing? Studying? Having US history as an alternative would make even the most horrible of shows seem good. She stuffs her textbooks into her backpack and shoves some things out of the way so her room looks a bit neater before rushing downstairs. The mallowmelt smells good enough to make her mouth water.

"Mmm..." she sighs, barely taking time to let it cool off before taking a large bite. "That's so good. Thanks, Mom."

Edaline  smiles. "You're welcome. Just save some for your father and I."

"Fine, fine. I have to share with Biana, anyway." Sophie huffs and takes another bite. "She's coming over, is that alright? We're going to watch a show together."

"Sure, just make sure to get your homework done."

Sophie rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"And keep the door open!" Grady calls. Edaline laughs as Sophie's face flames.

"I'm going back to my room," she grumbles, taking a plate of mallowmelt with her and walking up the stairs. She manages not to trip over her own feet and drop the mallowmelt, thankfully, as she grabs her laptop and opens Netflix. Sighing, she searches for Keepers of the Chaos and clicks on the show that comes up before waiting for Biana to arrive.

The doorbell rings soon, and Sophie carefully sets down her laptop and her plate on her bed before rushing down the stairs. Panting slightly, she opens the door for her girlfriend. Biana's wearing a t-shirt with the Amsterdam flag on it. Sophie has no idea why. Maybe Biana likes the country? Her girlfriend is pretty weird. "Come on in," she says, realizing she's been staring. In her defense, Biana is pretty and Sophie is very omni.

"Ready to go watch Keepers of the Chaos?" Biana asks. She bounces on her toes slightly.

"Alright," says Sophie. "I set it up on my laptop in my room."

"Awesome! You'll love it."

Sophie follows Biana up the stairs and into her room. They sit on the bed together, Sophie leaning against the wall and Biana leaning against Sophie, and Biana presses play. Somber kazoos begin playing in the background as the theme song starts.

We're on the edge of chaos

No one is straight

We're making fanart

Because L*ura we hate

And we're gonna have teal eyes in the end!

We must be weird, and we must be gay

(We must be gay!)

We will find every bit of sanity that we have

And give it all to Lynn

Ohhhh

We must be gay!

Biana dances a little along with the song, and Sophie can't help but smile. A curvy, round-faced person with short dark hair and colorful earrings plays a few notes on the piano, and then a KEEPERS OF THE CHAOS logo flashes across the screen. Then, a group of students sit in a classroom.

"Shai! Tater! Lynn! You three finally got together?" says the same person who just played piano, gesturing to a redhaed wearing a Sappho lesbian flag cape. She's holding the fingerless-gloved hand of a lanky person with brightly colored hair, and they're holding hands with a tall girl who has chin length brown hair. The rest of the class applauds the fiancees before returning to their own conversations.

"Yep! Thanks, Ink," says Tater.

Ink smiles at them and turns to a person with light brown skin and golden hoop earrings partially covered by long dark hair. "Hi, Kiri, how was your break?"

"Good! Here's to a good 2021?" Kiri turns to the person next to them. "How about you, Ref?"

Ref has short brown hair and red glasses. "Yeah, my break was dOPE," she says, leaving everyone to wonder how he did that with their voice. "oH, and happy belated Hanukkah to Shai!"

"Thanks, you too. And guess what! I didn't set my hair on fire this year!"

A short guy with strawberry blonde hair looks concerned. "Um. Congratulations?"

"Thanks, Sam!"

Sophie looks away from the screen and at Biana. "There are a lot of characters..." she mutters.

"Yeah, but you get to know them well enough eventually," says Biana. "Now shh, let's keep watching!"

A lot of other characters are introduced in various conversations, and Sophie's brain has a hard time keeping track of them all. She does remember Tara, a curvy, bored-looking girl with long sideswept bangs, and Blue, a bisexual who may or may not be an arsonist. She doesn't know either of their personalities very well yet, but she likes them so far. Lucat, a pale, blue haired asexual, who later joins the Hanukkah conversation, also seems cool.

Once quite a bit of introductions are done- Sophie lost count at around twenty something- are over, an announcement comes over the school's loudspeakers.

"Welcome back, Tumblr High School!" announces a voice. "I hope you all had a good break. Now, the Tumblr staff have an important announcement for you all. High schools in this county, like ours, Pinterest High School, and Instagram High School, will be holding a competition. All members of the winning team will receive a scholarship to AO3 college. If you are interested, meet in room 69 after school. Now, onto other announcements..."

Somber kazoos play again as the principal's droning voice fades into the background. A montage of the previously introduced characters wishing they could go to AO3 college moves across the screen. After a few minutes of them zooming through school and talking about how fucking boring it is, all of them gather in the room (some of them with more jokes than others) to discuss the competition.

A blonde woman welcomes them into the room. They wait a while to make sure no one else will arrive, but once everyone is there, the woman clears her throat. "Hello, everyone! I'm glad you're interested in joining the competition. My name is Shannon Messenger, and I'm in charge of admissions at AO3 College. My coworker L*ura and I designed this competition."

Sophie gasps and looks at Biana. "L*ura? But isn't that the person they hate? They said that in the intro!" Biana smiles at her, and she blushes as she realizes that she's kind of... maybe... invested in the show now. She decides she'll endure the "I told you so"s later and looks back at the show, trying to telepathically tell the characters not to trust this L*ura person... and perhaps not Shannon either. It's too early to tell whether Shannon will be an antagonist or not.

"All of you will be working as a team to write a story together. The main premise is that a twelve year old girl named Sophia is a telepath, but she can't tell anyone her secret. Then, she meets a teal-eyed boy named Finn, and he tells her that she's an elf. She travels back to the elf world with him, where she struggles a bit at the elf school Firefox, makes friends with some other elves, learns that she is an illegal creation of a rebel group called the Dark Duck, and another rebel group- the Rarelynoticed- tries to kidnap and kill Sophia and her friend Deck. There are other details to be included into the story, which will be given out to the participants as a packet. The object of this competition is not to determine your ability at coming up with story ideas, but your ability to work in groups and execute well developed ideas. Does anyone have any questions?"

Someone raises their hand- a short, tanned girl. "Lynn?" prompts the principal.

"Did you say the rebel group was named the Dark Duck?"

"And the Rarelynoticed?" adds another person, with rectangular glasses and a red bracelet.

"Raise your hand before speaking, Auran," scolds the principal. "But yes, those are the names."

"Alright then," Auran mutters.

"Unless anyone else has questions, we'll be sending out sign up forms for everyone interested, and then we will distribute the information packets about your story. You can talk to each other and start planning."

No one else has questions, so once they've all filled out the sign up form, they gather in small groups and flip through the packets, making sarcastic comments or mocking names ("'Rarelynoticed' though-" a stylish hijabi named Raiin sighs as they come across a page of information about the group) as they try to form some semblance of a plan. Once they all agree that they've made a lot of progress, they make plans to meet up again soon and walk back home.

Unbeknownst  to them, a pair of ominous teal eyes watch from above.

Somber kazoos play once again, and the credits roll.

"So, what'd you think?" Biana asks as Sophie closes her laptop.

Rather inaudibly, Sophie mumbles "It was good."

"What was that?"

"It was good! I liked it!"

Biana grins. "I told you so." She leans over and kisses Sophie on the cheek. "Thanks for watching it. I have to go do some homework, awesome seeing you!" As she walks out, Sophie hears her singing under her breath. "We must be gay..."

#tumblr kotlc fandom fandom #keepers of the chaos #shai types things #cursing tw #we must be g a y #shai's writing

[liv-laugh-die]

||Admiring|| 💖Miya Osamu x Gn!reader

trope: strangers meeting in the park (ik its random bear with me😭)

warnings: its not proofread all the way through (im sorry im tired), so theres probably grammatical errors or typos but other than that none

genre: fluff pretty much just sappy stuff

pairing/s: osamu x gn!reader

wc: about 2.5k

a/n: oh my god idk where i came up with this but i think its cute so :p i hope you enjoy!!

You stared at your blank computer screen, hope of finishing your assignment before its due date at midnight slowly vanishing. 

     The clock on your desk read 11:27pm, the green lines wavering in your vision as your eyes slowly drooped, trying to drag you into the depths of slumber. You wanted to sleep, you really did, but you knew there was no way you could give up writing your essay, even now, knowing you weren’t going to submit it on time, because you would stress too much about it if you didn’t at least try to complete it before the due date. 

     Pushing yourself away from your desk, your chair squeaking against the floor ever so slightly in your dead silent dorm room, you tried to think of some excuse that your professor might believe. You doubted there was anything you could think of, but hey, your professor was better than what your roommates’ had mentioned theirs being, and you were grateful for that. Maybe you could tell him that you were exhausted from working extra hours at your job since you had had to cover your coworker’s shift and that’s why you couldn’t complete your essay on time? Or, maybe you could get away with a simple “I was lacking interest in the material, and couldn’t understand anything, and I didn’t ask for help because I knew that you are such a busy man trying to do so many things at once. Another hopeless near college drop-out wasn’t something I thought you needed on your hands.”

     ....Maybe not the latter.

    You sighed, running a hand through your tangled hair, practically feeling it screaming at you to wash it. You barely had time in the mornings to take showers anymore, and when you took them at night, you never had the strength to wash your hair, always knowing that putting a hat on overtop or throwing on your hoodie would make it seem fine on the outside, and that was good enough for you. As long as you looked at least decent and somewhat presentable.

    Your dorm room was fairly small, like every other one, but the lack of furniture made it seem larger than the rest. Nothing more than you and your roommate’s joint desk, the mini fridge in the corner, and the beds filled the space. You almost tripped over your backpack lying next to the bunk bed pushed up against the wall, falling to what would’ve been inches away from your roommate’s sleeping body.

    In an attempt not to disturb them, you tiptoed through the room, stepping over the occasional heap of clothes or homework, until you reached the bathroom. You fumbled over the door knob before almost tumbling into the small space. Glancing in the mirror, you didn’t fail to notice your messy hair, the dark circles tracing beneath your eyes, or the way you looked like you were seconds away from passing out. The sound of running water rang in your ears as you turned on the sink faucet, cupping your hands together and bringing your face down to meet them, rubbing the cold water all over you in an attempt to keep you awake for just a few moments longer.

     Your eyes returned back to the mirror as you sighed at your dripping wet face. There was no way possible you were going to finish your assignment on time. You knew it, your roommate knew it before they passed out, and you had noticed your professor’s wary glance this morning in class as a sign that he knew it too.

     An idea sprang into your head, part of you dreading the optimism that seemed to seep through your brain slowly. You didn’t feel like being energetic right now.

---an hour later---

You weren’t exactly sure how, when, or why you decided it would be a good idea to take a shower (you did end up washing your hair, thank god), get your things together in your bag, and head to the off-campus coffee shop (since the one on-campus had already closed), but you found yourself with a warm cup of coffee in hand as you exited the shop, the cold midnight air enveloping you in an unwelcome embrace.

     You shivered. The only thing your spontaneous brain had forgotten had to have been your jacket, the one thing your normal brain would’ve remembered if it weren’t already past midnight and if you weren’t majorly sleep-deprived.

     You most certainly weren’t done with your essay yet, nor was there any possible way for you to finish it on time since it was now approximately thirteen minutes past the due time, but you let yourself breathe for now.

     There weren’t many people out at this hour, and it made the usual busy city streets seemed like a ghost town. There were a few restaurants still open as you strolled along the sidewalk, their lights responsible for illuminating more than half the area in front of you. You passed by an onigiri shop your friend had recommended to you, but you just weren’t that hungry. Most nights, you’d kill for a midnight snack, but your single shot of espresso coffee was satisfying your needs for now.

     You decided to head to the park after seeing a rabbit hop its way across the vacant street and into the bushes in that direction. The fresh air was nice and cool against your dry and croaky lungs, and your ears needed a different sound than that of you miserably attempting to touch type quickly, your fingers rapping against the keyboard with vigor.

     A stream nearby flowed softly, the dripping of the water against the rocks complimenting the noise of the crickets chirping in sync just downstream. Your footsteps cut through the grass slowly, not bothering to follow the stone path. The park was a nice change of scenery. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been here by yourself in peace, it was always you and your rambunctious friends who ran through every now and then just to see the dogs running through the sprinklers, or the occasional poor cat whose owner dragged them out into the daylight for exercise. This was peaceful, though, and you appreciated that.

     A few more rabbits crossed your path, giving you that wide-eyed, side glance before darting off into the darkness, outside the reach of the lampposts emitting light. The sound of the stream soon faded out as you continued to walk through the park, sipping your coffee every so often. The warmth from your cup was soon dying out, and you figured you’d have to start walking back to your university sooner or later. Maybe you could crash at your friend’s house who lived just off campus, though you had forgotten your phone back at your dorm and had no alarm, no laptop to complete your work, and no contact with anyone else who might worry where you’d be. You had really no choice but to trek back to your dorm in the darkness, cutting your peaceful visit to the park short.

     You let yourself have a few more minutes of stress free relaxing as you sat down on a bench just before the ground let out into a downhill slope overlooking the rest of the city below. The trees around you swayed in the breeze, and for a moment, you thought it was the wind talking, and not an actual human being who had somehow made his way beside you without gathering your attention.

     “Didn’t think anyone else would be up at this hour,” the stranger mumbled. You glanced up, almost startled that, indeed, someone else was actually awake and strolling through the park.

     The boy couldn’t have been much older than you were, maybe the same age. He had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, the wind tousled his dark hair ever so slightly, and the moonlight played along, illuminating his face just so you could actually see how gorgeous he was.

     You cleared your throat, averting your eyes back to the ground as you shifted over, creating more space on the bench in case he wanted to sit down beside you. “I decided to actually take care of myself for once and give myself some time to breathe before facing the wrath of my professor tomorrow when he finds out I didn’t turn in my essay on time.” You let out a low, breathy chuckle, not exactly sure of what would happen next.

     The guy sat down on the bench next to you, though he made sure to give you some personal space, which you were grateful for. He laughed along with you a bit, and you could tell just from his tone just how tired he really was.

     You gave him a side glance, raising an eyebrow. “So, what the stressful thing that brought you here in the middle of the night?”

     He smiled half-heartedly, eyes trained on the moon. “Work stuff. Jus’ been busy, I guess.” He shrugged. 

     You waited for him to continue on, but he stayed silent. You didn’t complain, though. Wasn’t your whole reason for coming out here in the dead of the night for some quiet? Plus, it wasn’t awkward either. You were comfortable sitting next to this stranger.

     “What do you do for work?” You waited a little longer than necessary to ask, but he didn’t seem to mind the long pause.

     “I own a restaurant a few blocks away. I love the job, it’s just tiring havin’ to deal with rude customers like my brother who won’t get the hint and get out sometimes. I got into an argument with him earlier today and he just wouldn’t shut it.” He rolled his eyes and took his hands out of his pockets, making eye contact with you as he went on about his day, and you couldn’t help but smile at his passion. “The guy thinks he can just walk in when I’m working with a new employee and just act like he runs the place! Quite stupid if you ask me. Such a jerk, he is. Thinkin’ about just banning him from the place, really.” 

     You snorted. “He really bugs you that much, huh?”

     The guy smirked at your laugh, admiring it, though you would never had guess that was what flashed across his face in a million years. He nodded. “Yeah, ‘course I love ‘im ‘cause he’s my twin and my best friend, but he really knows how to annoy the hell outta me.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just get a sign in the window that says “no shirt, no shoes, no service” and cross it out and write my brother’s name instead,” he reasoned, and the pondering look in his eyes made you wonder if he was actually considering the idea.

     You smiled. “You’re funny.”

     “You say that like ya weren’t expectin’ it.”

     A laugh made its way out your lips. “Well, when you’re approached by a stranger in the middle of the night you sort of expect the worst.”

     The guy glanced off in the distance, away from you, furrowing his eyebrows. “Sorry, didn’t think of that comin’ off that way.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m funny then, and not some creep, eh?”

     You nodded, the smile on your face not fading as he changed topics.

     “So, what’s your essay on? Any way I can help ya finish it?”

     You shook your head dismissively. “Oh, no. It was due thirty minutes ago.” You quickly explained the topic you were writing about in class before getting side tracked. “My professor had said he would allow it to be turned in the next morning, but I doubt he actually meant it.”

     He smiled a wide grin, making butterflies flutter in your stomach. “You go to the university nearby, right?” 

     You nodded in confirmation, raising an eyebrow. “If I’ve got any luck, there’s a chance you go there too?”

     He laughed a little, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t, sorry. I’ve visited campus a few times because some of my friends go there, but I just usually focus on work.”

     His gaze was tilted upwards towards the sky, and you couldn’t help but admire how the exhaustion still shone in his eyes, but somehow that same passion gleamed there too just mentioning what he did for a living. You wished you were that passionate about something that would actually support you financially in the future and make you happy.

     When he glanced back at you, you were still taking his essence in, and he made a look of confusion. “What?”

    You shook your head, chuckling. “Nothing. I just admire that you can dedicate yourself to something and make it seem so easy.” He looked at you, interested to hear what you had to say, even though you were sure you couldn’t be the first person to tell him this. “I haven’t even known you for more than ten minutes and I can already tell you’re passionate about what you do and if you’re stressed about it, it must mean you’re dedicated to seeing your work through, and that’s more than enough to admire and appreciate, especially when that can be so difficult sometimes.” You finished your short tangent, looking back up at him to see him staring intently at you, seemingly in awe of what you’d just said. You felt a blush creep onto your face as you quickly blurted out, “Sorry- I didn’t mean to be so straightforward and weird like that- I sound like some crazy secret admirer or something...”

     The crickets chirped in the silence between the two of you, and it felt like it would never end.

     “Y’know, I wouldn’t mind havin’ a secret admirer. I mean, wouldn’t be so secret, but...” You saw the smile creep up onto his face. “It’s nice being appreciated. Nobody really tells me that kind o’ stuff, so... thanks, I guess.” 

     The heat on your cheeks didn’t go away by any means, but you grew more comfortable with it as you mumbled, “Maybe I wouldn’t mind admiring you.”

     Now, it was the boy’s turn to blush, and you smiled at how his cheeks grew redder with every passing second, and how his subtle grin spoke a thousand words he didn’t need to say.

     “Miya Osamu.” The boy’s hand came into your view as he extended it for you to shake. “I own Onigiri Miya across from the grocery outlet.”

     You smirked, grasping his hand in yours as you said, “L/N Y/N. I own an official license for being a horrible driver and an ID that proves I’m a sleep-deprived college student and that’s about it.”

     He laughed, shaking your hand and standing up, letting go too soon for your liking.

     Because for some weird reason, his hand felt right in yours.

     Osamu said a quick goodbye, mentioning something about how he should get going and how you should get some sleep before he disappeared down the stone path back into the darkness.

     You stood up not too long after he’d left, your coffee now entirely cold as you plopped the half full cup into the trash can on your walk back to your dorm, not needing the pathetic warmth anymore. Your heart was beating fast and the feeling of Osamu’s hand resting in yours lingered on your palm, and that kept you warm enough.

     Maybe you’d be visiting that onigiri place your friend recommended to you a little sooner than you’d originally planned, and maybe more often than you would’ve expected.

#osamu miya x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq #miya osamu #osamu #osamu x reader #oml i actually like this #ahhhh its cute #since when have i been motivated #i hope this doesnt flop *sob*

[hockeylvr59]

Honest Love Part 5 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note:  It only took me two months to write this next part but I think maybe just maybe I’m starting to get some muse back. Let me know what you think about this part. 

Warnings: smut, cursing

Word Count: 3,345

~~~~~~~

Looking over at the clock beside the bed you watched as the numbers flipped from 11:59 to 12:00, your brain thinking about everything that meant. Not only were you now officially 7 weeks pregnant but it was arguably the most special day of the year. It was so special because 22 years ago Laura Makar had given birth to your best friend, the love of your life, and now the father of the little bundle of cells growing inside of you. 

Watching Cale sleep, you smiled thinking about everything you had planned for his birthday. He had a hockey game to play but you were still determined to celebrate and you had a few tricks up your sleeve of things he’d enjoy. Starting now. 

Folding the covers back a bit, you slid down the bed so that you were level with your boyfriend’s hips. Then you carefully tugged his boxers down just enough to free his soft length, peeking up to check for any sign that he was starting to stir. Satisfied that he hadn’t started to wake just yet, you licked your lips to wet them before leaning forward to press kisses all along his dick feeling at least this part of his anatomy start to respond to the stimuli. Using your fingers, you continued to stroke him to full hardness before finally wrapping your lips around the pink head of him. 

It was at that action that you felt him jump a little and you watched as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He groaned seeing you using kitten licks against his tip and you smirked before taking him fully into your mouth for just a moment. 

“Happy birthday.” You whispered softly when you pulled back to breathe. Hearing Cale groan again, you took him back into your mouth, taking him as deeply as possible. Your nails traced teasingly down his thighs and you continued to blow him until he breathed your name, his voice strangled. “Just relax handsome. Let me take care of you.” You assured him. “Birthday boys deserve birthday blow jobs.” You added, feeling empowered by his reactions. As you took him back into your mouth you felt his hands tangle in your hair and you hummed around him in response letting him know that you liked it. 

Your blowjob wasn’t rushed but it wasn’t really slow and lazy either. You knew that you needed to get him off and then let him go back to sleep so that he was well rested for his birthday game. Focused on your goal, you went through the series of things you know he likes until he was a mess beneath you, squirming and cursing softly with his eyes blown. 

“That’s it handsome. Cum for me.” You murmured pressing kisses along his length while you caught your breath. Sinking down on him again you rolled his balls between your fingers until you felt him twitch and groan, his semen spilling in ropes into your mouth. Swallowing, you licked him clean before tucking him back into his boxers and sliding back up the bed to kiss him. It was clear his brain was foggy and you smirked to yourself before settling back against his side. “Get some sleep hun. Busy birthday ahead.” You assured him, smiling when he mumbled something resembling a thank you before crashing hard, his hand settling back against your stomach. 

______

Cale had already left for morning skate by the time you woke up again and you smiled when you realized he had left you breakfast. It was his birthday and you were supposed to be taking care of him but that was still hard when your fatigue levels were still much higher than you would like them to be. Eating the food, you looked around your living room thinking about all the things you needed to do for Cale’s birthday. You had planned to run the errands this morning while he was out and then once he left for the game you were going to put it all together, decorating, laying out his presents, and making dinner for his post-game meal before heading to the arena yourself. 

Sliding into some oversized clothes after finishing breakfast, you headed out to pick up the semi-healthy cake you had ordered for your boyfriend along with the array of balloons. Thankfully it was all easy enough to hide and you were back just relaxing on the couch when he came home to take his pregame nap. 

“There’s the birthday boy!” You greeted with a smile, laughing as his cheeks flushed in response. “Did you eat at the rink or should I make lunch?” You questioned, nodding when he replied that he hadn’t eaten yet. 

“You don’t have to make me anything, I’ve got it.” He insists but you roll your eyes and move to the kitchen anyway. “Go pick out your suit and stuff for later. I can make up a quick lunch.” You declare, not willing to take no for an answer. Cale knows better than to argue by now over little things like this and so he heads into the bedroom, the sound of drawers and the closet door echoing through the apartment as he gathered his things for later. By the time he had returned you had made up a protein rich salad for him and yourself and you settled in beside him at the table to eat, Cale checking in on how you’re feeling. 

“Good. Definitely tired enough to nap with you if you don’t mind, but I slept in and have just been chilling all morning so baby and I are doing just fine I promise. We’re excited about daddy’s birthday.” You finish your explanation teasing. You know that Cale isn’t expecting anything for his birthday but that’s just no fun. 

“My birthday isn’t that big of a deal.” He insists, modest as ever, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Your birthday is a huge deal.” You counter, sliding your hand across the table to lace with his own. “It’s the day the universe gave me my best friend and soulmate. And this year is extra special because it’s the last birthday before this little one arrives.” Cale just grins softly, his expression conceding defeat. 

The rest of lunch was quiet and when you both finished, Cale quickly moved to clean up the dishes before offering you a hand to join him for his pregame nap. Cuddling close, you settled in, your body immediately sinking into the mattress in relief. You’d had no idea that pregnancy could be this exhausting and you were grateful to have a boyfriend whose job included naptime because it was so much easier to fall asleep beside him, tucked in his arms. 

_____

Watching Cale leave for the rink, you were immediately filled with excitement giving you energy like you hadn’t had in days. You started in the kitchen, working to prep one of Cale’s favorite meals but in a crockpot version so that you could leave it while you went to the game and it would be ready to eat when you came home. 

From there you used a helium pump to blow up all of the balloons until the area around your dining table was full of bunches of regular silver,navy, and white balloons; letter balloons reading ‘FEELIN 22’ were floating above the table; and glow in the dark balloons stretched from the front door into the kitchen and living room to surprise him when you both walked through the door later. 

Wrapping Cale’s presents, you placed those on the table alongside his cake. Deeming everything done, you finally grabbed yourself a snack satisfied with your work and looking forward to seeing Cale’s reaction to it all. 

A glance over at the kitchen clock revealed that it was only an hour and a half before game time and you still had to shower and get ready. Quickly getting clean and shaving, you slid Cale’s last present carefully onto your body before you pulled on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, grabbing Cale’s jersey to throw on when you got to the rink. A quick little bit of makeup and a brush through your hair and you were ready to head out, turning on all of the LED balloons as you headed out the door. 

By the time you got out the door and through Denver traffic you had missed pregame warmups. Greeting the girls in your section you smiled and settled into your seat ready to go. 

Cale on the other hand, did not seem so ready to go. Throughout the first period you could just tell that something was off about his game and it wasn’t until he took a stupid penalty in the corner of the rink closest to you that you realized he had probably looked for you during warmups and when you weren’t there it sent his mind spinning. Shooting him a quick text of a picture of him sitting in the box teasing him about how that wasn’t a good birthday present, you hoped he checked his phone during intermission to calm himself. 

When the second period started it was clear that something had changed, whether one of his teammates said something or he had indeed seen your message. With the Avs on a power play, Cale fired a puck on net which was beautifully tipped in front to put the Avs on the board. Just over five minutes later he danced into the offensive zone drawing defenders and leaving them in his dust before slamming the puck into the back of the net past the screened goalie. 

With another assist on the empty netter to cap off the game you smiled at his sudden three point night cheering how that was your birthday boy. The girls just laughed and smiled asking if you had anything planned for Cale’s birthday as you made your way down to the locker rooms. 

“Made his favorite dinner, a few presents, a semi healthy cake.” You shrugged. “Nothing too crazy or Cale would probably kill me but I have to spoil him a little.” You stated, a mischievous smile crossing your lips. The girls just laughed, reminding you to keep the marks hidden or else you’d be hearing it from them tomorrow with the team’s halloween plans. You flushed and rolled your eyes at them but couldn’t deny the assumptions they had made. 

With it being Cale’s birthday and him having a three point night you knew that it would be a little while before he finished with media and made his way out to you. Though you were starting to get hungry you waited patiently, greeting the guys that came out before him. When Cale finally appeared, you let him scoop you up kissing his lips with a light peck. 

“Look at you scoring a beauty of a goal on your birthday.” You grinned, your face going soft as he shared a bashful expression, his cheeks flush. “You ready to go home, birthday boy?” You asked, sliding your hand along his back as he agreed, leading you out to his car to head home. 

On the ride home you prayed the LED balloons were still lit and that Cale would enjoy everything you had planned for him. When you were about halfway there he asked about food and you assured him that you’d find something at home to throw together trying to hide the fact that food was already piping hot and ready. Cale just nodded and continued on the way back to your apartment, some fatigue showing on his features after tonight’s game. 

As you rode the elevator upstairs, you kissed him again softly, murmuring about how great he was tonight and how much you and baby love him. When he opened the door you stepped inside, moving to kick your shoes off and smiling to yourself at the glowing balloons lighting the room dimly. 

Cale clearly didn’t notice them until after he had closed and locked the door, kicked his shoes off, and dropped his keys and wallet onto the side table in the entryway. 

“Why don’t I...woah.” Cale murmured seeing the glowing orbs floating the entire way to the kitchen. “Yn….” He breathed. “What did you do?” He asked as he let you take his hands, walking backward as you guided him into the kitchen and living room. There you flipped on a light after just a minute, lighting up the rest of your work. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You exclaimed softly, smiling up at him. Cale’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head. 

“I told you you didn’t have to do anything.” He mumbled, leaning down to kiss you softly. “But thank you.” He adds, his hands sliding around your waist. “You’ve already outdone yourself and yet I feel like there’s more.” He chuckles shaking his head softly. You cocked your head in a ‘maybe’ expression before kissing him softly again.

“Why don’t you go change out of this suit while I serve up dinner?” You suggested sliding your hands down his chest. Cale eyed you for a moment before complying, heading into the bedroom. Shedding your Makar jersey onto a chair, you moved to grab dishes, serving up the meal you’d made earlier as Cale came back, his eyes going wide at the familiar smell. 

“You didn’t?” He accused softly. 

“I did.” You confirmed, a bright grin on your face. “It might be a little different but it should taste very similar.” You assured him carrying two plates to the kitchen table before moving to grab the bottle of non-alcoholic wine you’d picked up since it was a special occasion. 

“You’re something else.” Cale mumbles kissing you again as he sits down across from you taking in his presents and cake as well. 

“I told you it was a special day.” You remind him, shrugging. “Plus the presents are from baby so I didn’t really do that much.” You winked, opening the wine and pouring it into two glasses. “To 22. To my handsome man and baby daddy. May this year bring you lots of happiness and blessings.” You toast. 

Cale’s cheeks continued to be rosy red as he accepted your toast, clinking his glass with yours before taking a sip and nodding in approval, looking over at the label as you took your own sip. Satisfied that though it tasted like the real thing there was zero alcohol, he dove into his meal, his eyes going wide in delight as he tasted it. Knowing that you had done well, you dug into your own plate as well enjoying the meal you had made for him. 

When plates were cleared you complied and let Cale move to do the dishes and clean up the little bit of leftovers in the crockpot. While he did that you grabbed candles for his cake and a small trash bag for the wrapping paper bringing both over to the table so that you could finish celebrating his birthday after getting a couple pictures of your handsome man. 

Cale’s first present was just a new pair of dress socks, something fun for him to add into the rotation. The second was concert tickets for a band he likes when they come to Denver in a few months. His third and seemingly final present was the one really from the baby, a mug saying ‘daddy, est. 2021’ on it. Cale’s eyes went soft at the sight and he leaned to kiss you softly thanking you for all of his gifts. After kissing him back for a moment you insisted that he needed to blow out the candles on his cake and then you cut each of you a small piece as you curled up on the couch to cuddle for a bit and wind down from the excitement. 

You could tell Cale was getting tired but there was still one more thing left and you slid his hand under your shirt along your hip teasing to him that there was something different and special under your clothes. It took him a minute to catch on, but then his eyes went wide. 

“Want to unwrap your last present?” You whispered teasingly in his ear, your breath ghosting along his skin. When Cale nodded you moved to get up, pulling him back to the bedroom before settling his hands back against the edge of your clothes. As he carefully stripped you from them you watched as his eyes grew wide and dark and his tongue swept out against his bottom lip. Slowly he revealed the strappy black satin, which carefully framed your still flat stomach, and his hands lingered at your waist, his thumbs swiping along your exposed belly. 

“Holy fuck sweetheart.” Cale breathed, his voice strained. “You look...wow.” There was nothing like leaving your boyfriend mostly speechless to boost your confidence. 

“I know.” You grinned. “Now what are you going to do with me birthday boy?” You teased softly, your fingers trailing down his abs to the waistband of his joggers. Cale groaned before lifting you and carefully tossing you up onto the bed, his body crawling over yours as you settled back against the pillows. You felt his eyes rake over every inch of your body before he just kissed you, communicating everything he was struggling to find the words to say. 

You knew this was the best birthday present you could have given him and you just relaxed beneath him waiting to see what he was going to do next. Slowly his mouth kissed down along your body, worshipping every inch of exposed skin. As he kissed over your belly, he started searching for how to take the fabric off of you and you guided his hands to the tiny hooks along the curve of your spine. With that he was pulling the top piece off leaving you in just the strappy panties. 

More exposed for him, you reached up to slide your palms under his shirt wanting to even the playing field and with a careful tug he complied, pulling it over his head as he settled more firmly on top of you. 

“Fuck...look at you.” Cale breathed. “How is it somehow hotter seeing you in lingerie knowing that you’re showing off where our baby is growing?” He mumbled, kissing down along your neck as he worked the panties off of you as well leaving you nude under him. Smiling, you carded your fingers through his hair with one hand while the other cupped his ass. 

“Hmm...just wanted to give my man something special for his birthday.” You whispered. 

“Best birthday.” Cale agreed before kissing you again. 

From there it was a series of gentle caresses, no words needing to be spoken as Cale slid his joggers off before settling himself between your thighs and sliding inside you slowly. Sighing his name, you pressed your nails into his back urging him to move until he found a pace that felt perfect. Arching up into him you moaned softly, basking in the drag of his cock along your inner walls. Everything felt so much more sensitive and you found it hard to stay quiet as he made love to you slowly and lazily. 

It was clear by his movements that he was exhausted from the long day so neither of you pushed to extend this any longer than was necessary. As you fluttered around him with your orgasm, Cale spilled inside of you before collapsing off to the side, both of you sticky with mixed fluids. 

After a few minutes, Cale moved to help you up to pee and clean up and then you settled back into bed, your head on his chest. As you drifted off, you whispered to Cale one more ‘happy birthday’ and a smile slid across your face as he replied that it was perfect, his lips pressing against the top of your head. 

Perfect was exactly what you had wanted to give him because perfect was what he deserved.

Birthday Decorations & Presents:

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey smut #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #cale makar nws #nws #lemon #039

[the-fandom-fool]

Danny’s Terrible, Haunting Visage, Mouth Unmoving

Hi, Danny Phantom phandom. I Made This For You. I stayed up until five a.m. writing it so I hope you’re happy. 

Happy Dannypocalypse :) @horrendoushag

Word count: 2190

-------

There was a Face glowing in the darkness. It was glowing because it was on a computer screen, but that didn’t make it any less terrible and haunting.

Sam Manson grinned maniacally as she stared into the Face’s blank eyes, then looked away because they were a bit too blank. That didn’t mean she was backing out on her plan, though. She was no coward.

The printer loudly chugged out sheet upon sheet of paper, but the size of Sam’s house meant her parents would never hear. They would never know how much work she put into this, how many bribes she had to make, the blood she had to spill—and that was fine, because she didn’t want them to.

In the dark of night and the light of the wicked Face on the computer monitor, Sam snapped her scissors and set to work.

~

Morning dawned bright and early. Too bright and too early, in the opinions of some.

This “some” included one Danny Fenton, who had spent more than half the night dead and fighting other dead people who didn’t appreciate his puns. He got to bed at four a.m. and was running on two hours of sleep at most, so you could pardon him if he didn’t at first notice something amiss when he got to school.

Another reason he didn’t notice anything amiss was that his head was stuck in his locker to avoid the too-bright fluorescent lights some maniac had installed in the ceiling, and he had his eyes closed.

“Hey,” a voice said on the other side of his locker door.

Danny grunted. The voice was familiar, but he was too tired to figure out who it was right now.

“You okay, Danny?” the voice asked. It was too loud in the same way the lights were too bright, and the same could be said for the rest of the hallway. That’s another reason Danny had his head in his locker; things were quieter there.

Danny grunted again.

“Yeah, I know, you were up all night fighting ghosts. But you need to get up, man, first period is starting soon.”

Danny almost considered climbing into his locker and going to sleep then and there, but then he remembered that Mr. Lancer was the teacher in first period, so instead he groaned and pulled his head out.

He turned and was greeted by a hallucination.

At least, that’s what he assumed it was. A combination of the lack of sleep, the brightness of the light, and a hard knock on the head he got from Skulker last night.

Because everyone in the hallway was wearing his face.

Beyond his locker door, where the voice he now recognized as Tucker’s had been coming from, his own blank eyes stared back at him—or rather, at his soul. Danny blinked a few times in the hopes that the face would resolve itself into Tucker’s, but no—it stayed the same. Tucker’s body, Tucker’s beret, wearing Danny’s own terrible, haunting visage.

“Finally!” Danny’s terrible, haunting visage said, mouth unmoving, using Tucker’s voice. “Come on, we need to get to Mr. Lancer’s class!” One of the figure’s hands, Tucker’s hand, reached out and grabbed Danny’s arm. Tucker’s body started dragging Danny in the direction of the classroom.

“Wait—wait,” Danny said, clumsily forcing them to a stop. “What’s going on? What—why is everyone wearing my face?”

Tucker—it was Tucker, right?—turned to Danny and cocked his head. “Your face? What do you mean?”

Danny stared at him, face a blank reflection of the other’s, as his half-dead and half-asleep brain tried to come up with an adequate way of articulating what was going on. He looked to the side, saw several of the same face conversing with one another, and looked back. “Just… this?”

“This?” Tucker repeated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Danny, but we need to get to class. Come on, we’re meeting Sam there.”

This time, Danny allowed himself to be dragged to Mr. Lancer’s classroom. All around him, everyone had the same Face. His Face. They were acting perfectly normal otherwise—he even saw Dash yeeting a football at Kwan, though it took him a few moments to recognize them. The only one who seemed to realize there was anything strange about this was Danny.

They reached the classroom and took their seats inside. Danny looked hopefully to where Sam was sitting, but she, too, was wearing The Face.

“Hey Danny,” she said, and was it just the hallucination or did she sound incredibly pleased with herself? “Sleep well?”

“No,” Danny said. “Do you have any idea what’s going on around here?”

“What?” Okay, no, yeah, she sounded really smug. “What are you talking about?

“The Face.” Danny made sure the capital letters were audible. “Why is everyone wearing my face?”

“Um, that’s what everyone looks like, Danny.” The expressionless eyes where Sam’s should have been gave an impression of being rolled, despite not moving at all. “Remember? After that whole thing with the Reality Gauntlet, everyone got stuck like this. And since you kind of destroyed the Reality Gauntlet, well…” She shrugged. “No going back.”

And no, yeah, Danny was pretty sure he would remember if that happened. This was just… a prank. A really wild prank, because he couldn’t imagine why the A-listers would also be in on it, or in fact everyone he’d seen at school today. But it had to be a prank, nonetheless. He wouldn’t believe otherwise unless he saw Lancer with The Face.

And speak of the maybe literal devil, Mr. Lancer chose that exact moment to walk into the room.

“All right, everyone,” said Danny’s terrible, haunting visage, mouth unmoving, using Lancer’s voice. Which sounded exceptionally annoyed today. “Get out your books. And congratulations, Mr. Fenton”—it was said with such venom that Danny would be cringing if he weren’t in shock—“for being on time for once.”

Danny thought he heard a giggle somewhere, but he was too busy staring at Lancer’s—his Face on Lancer’s body.

Vlad, then. He wouldn’t believe this wasn’t a prank unless he saw Vlad wearing The Face.

~

Principal Ishiyama had called an assembly.

Danny dragged his feet among a crowd of other Danny-Faced people, careful to avoid looking anyone in his eye. They all chattered away curiously, mouths unmoving, wondering why their classes in third period had been cancelled. Many were rejoicing the new absence of math or English or whatever from their schedule today, but Danny couldn’t bring himself to care. In fact, he had a bad feeling about this assembly.

As soon as everyone had taken their seats, Principal Ishiyama, whose normal face had also somehow been replaced by The Face, spoke into her microphone.

“Hello, students!” said Danny’s terrible, haunting visage, mouth unmoving, using Principal Ishiyama’s voice. “Today we have a special guest, who’s volunteered to talk to you all about—”

There was a physically painful moment of interference in the speakers; everyone plugged their ears. Principal Ishiyama didn’t seem to notice, for some reason.

“—so let me introduce our city’s mayor, Vlad Masters!”

Everyone clapped politely, except Danny, but including Sam and Tucker, bizarrely enough. Danny could only stare in abject horror as Vlad Masters, wearing Danny’s terrible, haunting visage, walked calmly onto the stage.

“Yes, yes,” said Danny’s terrible, haunting visage, mouth unmoving, using Vlad’s annoying voice. “Thank you, Principal Ishiyama. And hello, Casper High students! It is such an honor to be here today, teaching you all about—”

The speakers had another physically painful moment of interference that caused everyone to plug their ears, but neither Vlad nor once again Principal Ishiyama seemed to notice.

“—such promising young men and women as yourselves. In light of recent political challenges, I have truly realized the importance of educating our country’s youth in order to build a better future—”

Danny had seen and heard enough. Mostly seen. With a look to his friends on either side of him, he quietly slipped to the ground, waved goodbye, and phased through the floorboards.

He emerged on the other side as the dead version of himself. No one was around to see, since this was the basement, but better safe than sorry.

He floated around for a few minutes, glanced at a few warped versions of his reflection he managed to find in various metal things, then pulled out his phone in an attempt to distract himself.

Then he remembered that Skulker broke his phone last night. He remembered because the screen was now a bunch of shattered glass, and if you looked closely the entire phone had been snapped in half.

So instead he stared listlessly at the ceiling; imagined the new phone he would get; imagined punching Skulker in the face (did it look like his now, underneath the suit?) for breaking his phone; imagined all the new comebacks he could make while punching Skulker in the face for breaking his phone; thought about the hundreds of students and teachers above him who were walking around with his Face.

It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

Right?

~

After what he deemed to be a safe amount of time, Danny reemerged from the basement as a real live boy. He joined the stream of students heading for the cafeteria, since it was lunchtime now, and once there looked around for his friends.

Which is when he noticed people peeling their Faces off.

He jumped a few feet in the air—literally; he hoped no one saw—blinked, shook his head, looked again.

One by one, people’s faces were emerging. Like a skin of paper, the Face came away from their heads and was discarded in the nearest trash bin, or crumpled up and stuffed in pockets, or left to languish on the floor by a foolish few. The faces underneath The Face had expressions—real expressions, he hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing them. A lot of them looked relieved, or they were laughing, or annoyed. Real faces.

Thinking about this made him want to see Sam and Tucker’s faces, so he looked around for them again and saw them, sitting at a table together, grinning. He himself was too confused to grin, so instead he made his way over to the table without doing that.

“Hey,” he said, and they pointed their grins at him. What wonderful grins they were. “What’s going on? It… was a prank, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Tucker, grin becoming pointier. “It’s the Dannypocalypse.”

“The what.” Danny’s voice was as flat as the expression on The Face, mainly because he just didn’t have the energy for this right now. He took a seat next to Tucker and reached over to steal one of Sam’s fries.

“The Dannypocalypse,” Sam repeated, grin also becoming pointier. “In honor of Danny Phantom, we all wore paper masks of his face. Something weird happened with the printer, so his eyes came out blue instead of green.”

“Oh.” Danny looked into Sam’s maniacal face and felt his alive half become slightly more dead. “You… this was you, wasn’t it.”

Sam’s grin reached full pointiness.

Danny stayed silent for a few seconds, before an almost hysterical giggle wormed its way out of his mouth. “You know April Fools was two days ago, right?”

“I underestimated how much time it would take to make the masks. That’s fine, though, no one expects pranks in the days after April Fools. That just made it better.”

Danny had so many questions. Too many questions. But the most pressing, of course—“How did you get everyone in on this? I know lots of people would be willing to wear Danny Phantom’s face, but Lancer?”

Sam shrugged. “Money.”

“And what about Vlad? He doesn’t need bribes.” Danny tried to steal another of Sam’s fries, but she slapped his hand away.

“Get your own. And I won’t go into details on this one, but let’s just say blood was spilled. And it wasn’t mine.”

“…Right.” Danny considered going in for another fry, but maybe it wasn’t worth it. “And you didn’t worry that, uh…” He checked around to make sure no one was listening and lowered his voice. “You didn’t worry that someone might notice I have the same face as Phantom?”

Sam shrugged again. “Oh, come on, Danny. Everyone knows Wes Weston is Danny Phantom.”

Danny stared at her, completely blank for a few seconds, before he gave in and burst out laughing. “This… okay. This is hilarious.”

“You bet it is.” Sam slapped a hand on the table, and with it, a paper mask displaying Danny’s terrible, haunting visage. “I’m going to hang this on my wall. What do you think? Should it have a fancy golden frame?”

“Absolutely.”

As more faces peeled off around them, Danny and his friends laughed. Somewhere, Vlad was planning his revenge; somewhere, Wes Weston was tearing his hair out and probably also planning revenge; but for now, all was well in the world.

(“By the way, how could anyone see? I didn’t see eyeholes on the masks?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Danny.”)

#dannypocalypse #dannypocalypse 2021 #danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #tucker got less lines in this than I would like :( #but oh well #please accept my humble offering to this event #even if you can only see The Face in your imagination #post of fandom

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma Dark [Prologue]

Monologue

ーー That burning feeling inside my throat,

is the sole thing which vividly remains in my memory.

Crackling flames flare up. 

People scatter about, tears streaming down their faces

as they call out someone’s name.

And I, ran straight towards

said fire.

It’s hot. So incredibly, unbearably hot.

Yet, I desperately dashed forward.

Swallowed by the flames and smoke, 

I could barely still see my own feet with my dried out eyes.

I could barely even breathe,

as the heat assaulted my throat.

Even so, I attempt to shout.

ーー Wanting to find someone.

ーー Wanting to save someone.

???: ( ...Who? )

( Who am I looking for amidst the flames? )

???: ーー ...ar!

???: ( I don’t know. I can’t remember. )

( Who was I searching for? Where was I? For whoーー? )

???: Bear!

ー A young Yuma wakes up and finds himself in town

Lucks: You’re awake?

Bear: ...Boss...

Lucks: Are you okay? You were groaning in your sleep again. (1)

Bear: Yeah...

*Rustle*

Bear: ...What’s with that face, huh? Whatcha grinnin’ for?

Lucks: It’s because you always look like you’re about to cry when you sleep. What’s wrong? Did you dream about your mommy again?

Bear: ...As if! Don’t treat me like a kid!

Lucks: Haha! My bad, my bad! Come on, eat this. It’s today’s grub.

ー He throws some food at him

Bear: ...Where did you pick up fresh bread?

Lucks: I didn’t pick it up, I secretly took it. Of course...Making sure nobody saw me?

You should hurry up and learn how to steal food (2) without getting chased after as well. I’m sure you’re fed up with getting beat up after being caught?

Bear: ...

Lucks: Well, it’s a common beginner’s mistake. Come on, just take a bite already. I’m sure you’re starving after tossing and turning around in your sleep?

Bear: ...Thanks for the food.

Lucks: Now I think about it, quite some time has passed since you hit me up, huh? You still can’t remember anything?

Bear: ...Nothing.

Lucks: I see. Well, if only it was that easy, huh? Have your burns healed yet?

Bear: They’ve gotten way better thanks to the medicine you gave me.

Lucks: I see. Isn’t it rough to be missing your memories?

Bear: ...Well...It is, but...

But, I don’t want to force myself to remember either. I feel...comfortable staying here with you after all.

Lucks: You get to eat without getting beaten up as well, huh?

Bear: ...That’s not what I meant!

Lucks: Haha, I’m joking. Well, if that’s what you want, you can stay here as long as you’d like. The gang likes you as well.

It’s just...Things may not stay this peaceful for long.

Bear: Did something happen?

Lucks: There’s been suspicious movements amongst one of the gangs at the neighboring city. The one lead by that nasty guy sporting a mohawk (3).

Bear: Aah, that idiot whose hair looks like a chicken’s?

Lucks: Yeah...He has already done a number on three of our gang members. If they won’t back down, we won’t be able to avoid a conflict forever.

Bear: Hmph! I’ll take them on at any time! They may think they’re strong together, but they’re no match for us!

Lucks: Haha. When it comes to your built and vigor, you really are formidable. You’re totally one of us now.

...Honestly, I know that continuing doing this won’t solve anything.

Bear: Boss?

Lucks: Say, Bear? Do you like this city?

Bear: ...What do you mean?

Lucks: Exactly as I said it. Take look at those worn down streets and houses. ...This city has started to rot.

All of the aristocrats and politicians keep on running their mouths about revolution or reforms and how it’s all in the best interest of the people but...This is the reality we have to face.

In the end, it’s only the rich people who get to benefit of it. (4) On the other hand, the number of children like us who end up on the streets is only rising. 

But no matter how ashy and grey the city gets, only the sky is still...

Look, it’s this blue...Underneath the blue sky who doesn’t belong to anyone, status or family does not matter.

I believe that all humans are equal and deserve to be free.

...However, I am also aware that such utopian dreams will never come true in this rotten city.

Bear: ...

Lucks: That’s why I’ve decided I will guide this country towards the right path.

To achieve this, I have to fight my way to the top. Of course, using a method other than violence.

Bear: ...Seems like you have a long way ahead of you.

Lucks: It’s frustrating but I’m still a child right now. I’m not stupid enough to think I can win against adults who have political power. I know that this will be a long fight.

But you know, I also want to know just how far a single orphan raised in the filthy slums can go.

Now that I’ve told you all of this, you’ll have to watch me till the very end, Bear. From your VIP seat right next to me.

Bear: Hah, I just hope you don’t drag me into the grave with you.

Lucks: Just give up if that happens. You were out of luck, getting picked up by me.

Bear: ...Guess so. I do feel like I owe you one. 

A huge debt, for giving me a place I can call my own...That is.

Fine then, I’ll stick with you. Until the day...This world changes.

ー The screen fades to black

Yuma: ( Exactly, that was our dream. )

( For us brats who had no money, let alone power, changing the country, or even the world, that was the real Utopia. )

( ...However, it’s strange. )

( Boss, I’m sure you can do it. That’s what I ended up thinking. )

Monologue

A city thorn apart by the destruction of war.

in the very corner of the slums laying in the very back of said city,

that is where I lived at that time.

About my life before that,

I could not remember a single thing.

At some point, I found myself laying on the ground,

of this filthy back-alley. Why was I here? 

Where did I come from?

I did not even know who I was. 

That’s the kind of situation I found myself in.

ーー Yo, what’s up?

A young boy called out for my puzzled self,

greeting with a tone,

as if we had been long-time pals.

That was Lucks.

ーー Got nowhere to go? 

Come with me then.

The moment he spoke those words without asking about what happened,

without a single hint of hesitation. 

I was at a loss for words, 

deeply moved by this boy.

I felt indebted, as well as respect for him,

even a little envy...

But the most accurate way to describe it, would probably be admiration.

And that is how,

I decided to live alongside this person,

who was the leader of a gang.

Based on my physical appearance,

I was given the nickname ‘Bear’.

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: Haah...

( It may have been decided by drawing a card, but how could I have picked such a scary-looking person... )

( He punched me when I was brought here, and he goes around calling people ‘Sow’... )

( I wonder if I’ll be okay, having someone like that watch over me...? )

Yuma: Hold it, Sow! (5)

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Don’t just be wanderin’ ‘round like ya own this place! If ya wanna have a look ‘round, at least ask me for permission first!

Yui: ( Speak of the devil...! )

Yuma: Che. Ya really not tryin’ to hide that you’re displeased, huh? ...I’m not exactly thrilled to have to babysit ya either, ya know!?

But well, guess I have no other choice. 

Oi, I’ll only tell ya this once so listen up. These are the rules attached to becomin’ my personal toy.

Yui: Toy!?

Yuma: I’m not wrong, right? My own toy which I can use as I please, whenever I want to. That’s what ya are, right?

Yui: I-It’s my first time hearing about that...!

Yuma: Do I really need to go out of my way to tell ya? That’s what Sows (6) are for, right?

Yui: ( ‘Toy’ and ‘Sow’...That’s just too cruel... )

Yuma: What? Got a problem with it, huh?

Yui: R-Rather than a problem...

Yuma: Aahn!?

Yui: ...!

( Uu...Yuma-kun really is scary with that tall physique and loud voice of his...! )

Yuma: ...

*THUD*

Yui: !!

Yuma: Can’t hear ya very well!? This toy came with a mouth, didn’t it!? Speak up a lil’ more, aahn!?

Yui: ( He’s even more scary when he towers over me like that...! )

I-It’s...nothing...

Yuma: Che, you’re so annoyin’. If ya can’t say, don’t try and mutter a halfbaked response.

This is exactly why I hate chicks who just stand there pissin’ their pants the whole time.

You’re on the same level as a farm’s pig if ya can’t even voice yer own opinion out loud.

Listen up, Sow. Watchin’ those kind of people makes me gag.

Yui: ( He doesn’t have to put it so bluntly... )

( ...However, it’s true that I’m frightened and that I can’t talk back... )

Yuma: Haah...What a fuckin’ pain in the ass.

If it turns out ya don’t taste better than Sugar-chan, I really got the short end of the stick.

Yui: ( Sugar-chan...? Could he be talking about sugar cubes? Also, he’s eating them plain... )

( I wonder if he likes sweet stuff...? )

Yuma: Well, I’ve got no other choice now that I’m chosen. There...!

Yui: Ow...!?

( He strongly wrapped his hand around my throat...!? )

Yuma: Woah there, don’t make a fuss. I’m actually holdin’ back so I don’t snap it in two.

If ya struggle too much, I might end up puttin’ in some strength.

I might just break yer neck even if I didn’t mean to?

Yui: ( I don’t want that...! )

( But it hurts and it’s hard to breathe, so I can’t just keep still...! )

*Thud*

Yuma: Did I not just tell ya to keep still!? ...Che, ya really are a pain. Come on!

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...He loosened up a little. It’s somewhat less painful like thiーー )

Yuma: Dont get the wrong idea.

You’re a damn infuriatin’ woman. But it seems like ya are the chosen Eve after all. I’ll handle ya with care for now.

Well, either way...Ya chose me. Even if it’s a drag, I can’t alter said truth.

Yui: ( I didn’t choose him myself though... )

Yuma: That being said, ya better try yer best to become a toy to my liking, capiche? 

Yui: Why...me...?

Yuma: Hah. Haven’t those Sakamaki’s already treated ya badly plenty of times anyway?

Yui: That’s...

Yuma: What? Tryin’ to play hard to get now? Don’t cause me any more trouble!

*THUD*

Yuma: Come on. If ya understand, do as I say. If so, I’ll treat ya decently. Hehe.

Yui: ( ...! )

Yuma: Looks like ya don’t like the ring of that? Heh. Perfect. 

Ya should have just been honest back then. Don’t be havin’ regrets now...!

ー Yuma bites her

Yui: !!

( Ow...! He suddenly...! )

Yuma: Nn...Nn?

Yui: ( Uu... )

Yuma: ...Haah...Heeh...Guess this is to be expected of Eve? Ya taste quite nice.

Nn...Hah...Amazin’...The blood’s so sweet...Just like sugar...No, even sweeter?

I wasn’t lookin’ forward to havin’ to watch over some chick’s sad ass but...Hehe, in this case, it might actually be kinda fun.

Yui: Please, stop...

Yuma: Hah, already havin’ regrets? Didn’t I tell ya...!?

Yui: Uu, ah...!

Yuma: ...Hah...

Yui: ( He keeps on thrusting them in and pulling back out...I’m becoming numb from the pain... )

Yuma: Hehe...I think it’s annoyin’ when a woman goes quiet after I yell at her, but I don’t dislike chicks who keep silent durin’ this kinda thing?

I wouldn’t mind if ya expressed yer desires, or let me hear some nice cries...tho!

ー He pushes Yui away

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah...!

*Thud*

Yuma: I’ve had enough. I’m sleepy too so I’m done for today.

Well, guess now ya just have to try yer hardest to be in my good grace, huh?

Yui: ...

Yuma: Hehe...See ya, Sow.

ー Yuma leaves

Yui: ( ...No matter where I go, I always get treated like this. )

( Although I still can’t believe...I actually want to have my blood sucked myself. )

( If I could, I’d honestly love to go to a world without any Vampires... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) The verb うなされる or ‘unasareru’ refers to both ‘having a nightmare/bad dream’ as well as the noises and movements accompanying it.

(2) He uses the term ‘to supply’ or ‘to raise’ here, but it is obvious from the context that they are stealing food. 

(3) They describe his hairstyle as トサカ頭 or ‘tosaka atama’ with ‘tosaka’ referring to a cockscomb.

(4) Literally he says they are the ones who ‘get to suckle the sweet nectar’. 

(5) そこの or ‘soko no’ is a set phrase shouted when you want to stop somenoe in their tracks. You will often hear it being used by the police and such when they spot someone suspicious. Usually it is combined with 君 or ‘kimi’, in which case you can translate it as ‘You over there!’. In this case, I had to alter it a little because he uses Yui’s nickname ‘Sow’. 

(6) The word メスブタ or ‘mesubuta’ technically means ‘Sow’. However, it is also a common slang word to call somewhere a ‘whore’ or ‘slut’.

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<- [ Yuma prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #more blood #diabolik lovers translation #mbyumadarkprolog

[greeneyesandtea]

Elf on the Shelf

The Elf on the Shelf was a huge deal in the Styles home this year with Baby boy Styles declaring he is now Big boy Styles due to his promotion three weeks ago when Scorpio baby Sebastian or Bashy as Alex had taken to calling him arrived. Now that Alex came to the age of realizing the purpose of the Elf on the Shelf Harry saw on pinterest like any other mom it relatively soon became Lia’s job to organize and create a cheerful but messy Elf on the Shelf idea every night from November because  quarantine already has made things gloomy babe and tonight was no different in the Styles home.

“So I saw this one it looks pretty cool. We throw flour on the table and have Lala walk across the house tracking flour all the way to the kids rooms.” Harry said, pointing his screen to her back as she was facing the stove,Lia quickly turned around to see the mess Harry wanted to cause and her eyes rolled so hard that she could practically see her skull.“Your face is screaming shut the fuck up Harry.”

Lia was putting the water to boil for the bottles that Bashy uses during the night feedings since Harry found it was the best time with his little mate.He now had a little lad and best mate,all he wanted for years and now that he’s got it his world has been completed.Lia’s world as well has been complete but that doesn’t mean their perfect world hasn't come without their challenges.

“Because you just suggested I track flour though the home I clean everyday with a baby strapped to my nipple.” Lia turns her body around completely this time to make full eye contact. “You make the mess.You clean it up.You and Alex can both learn the lesson together now.”

“We know the lesson.I know the lesson. I just like seeing you bent over in those green panties you call shorts during breakfast.” Harry stands from the island padding on his hanukkah sock covered feet, a gift from Ben and Mer and wraps his arms around his now grumpy wife, his chest to her back and  “I’ll help clean.” Lia cranes her neck to look at her husband and raises a brow at him. “This time I promise.Jeez a man doesn’t do it once and he never lives it down”

Placing the last bottle in the pot and placing the lid on it,the couple takes a minute after to soak the warmth and smell of each other in the oddly quiet home.The home was usually filled with baby gurgles and whines of  mommy please! One more snacky! and the music Harry plays as background noise.

“Something else babe please I really don’t want to have a hectic morning tomorrow. Bash hasn’t been still for days now I don’t want to deal with a crying baby and a mess.Let’s just keep looking,let’s see what mess Lala can get into tonight yeah?” Lia turns herself around placing a soft kiss on the tip of his chin and grabs a hand that fell on her ass and walks him over to the table where they eat breakfast because of the bench Harry just needed to have there because one day that bench would be filled with Styles babies.

After a few scrolls through google and pinterest before Lia saw it! Mischievous Lala was going to cut a few pieces off the boys pajamas and on the white board she was going to tell the Styles boys that Santa needed proof Lala was watching to see if the boys were being good or bad.

“Look baby.Lala can cut some holes into their pajamas,they’re growing out of them anyway.” Lia took the side of her thumbnail and started biting at the cuticle and showed Harry her Pinterest board of Elf on the Shelf ideas.

“Stop that!” Harry batted Lia’s hand away from her mouth and ghosting his lips on hers quickly Lia almost missed it because of how fast it was. “Well let’s get the scissor and start cutting.I’ll write Lala’s message.” With a pat on the bum the couple springs into action.

Slowly making her way into Sebastian’s nursery taking in the sound of her baby’s gentle breathing.Lia took the swaddle off on one side and cut three small holes.One on each shoulder blade and one right on his breast milk filled bloated tummy. Lia quickly swaddles Sebastian back up before he feels the breeze come from the hallway that will surely wake him up and one thing she knows about her new addition is that no one absolutely no one wakes him up from his peaceful sleep.

As Lia was walking out of the nursery Harry had just finished taking the final piece off of Alex’s pajamas which had more pieces cut off. Alex being a stomach sleeper like made Harry let out a giggle as he cut two big pieces right where Alex’s bum cheeks where kept warm by the pants but due to Harry’s humor now missing one patch in fabric on the center of each bum cheek and two holes on each sleeve but worst of all was Harry took it upon himself to give Alex a trim.I piece of curl that kept getting in his eye it didn’t drastically change his hair but with lockdown both parents decided a haircut was not worth the risk of getting anyone sick.

Waiting for Harry to leave the big boy bedroom only to meet his missus in the hall.Everything was fine until Lia trailed her eyes from her husband's face to his hands.

“Harry Styles!” The parents have mastered the whisper yell very well and this is what Harry knows is a true I fucked up moment  “I said cut a few pieces of his pajamas not cut his hair! Harry Oh my God your nan is going to have a fit she loves Alex’s hair.” Taking the hair from Harry’s hand and seeing the stand that now in Lia’s hand looks much longer than it did in the Sunflower shaped night light dim.

“It did not look that long in the room.I swear!” Their eyes zone in on the little bundle of hair and little giggles escape from both their lips.

“It’s okay.” Lia turns to walk down the hallway and turns around before she takes a step down the stairs. “I like being the only woman in this house and Lala fucking up Alex’s hair only secures that.”

With a white board and dry erase marker and a small tiff on whose handwriting is better You’ve spelled your own name wrong dummy the pair went to sleep peacefully holding each other.Harry’s arm around Lia’s waist and a leg between her knees and Sebastian only waking up once during the night. It was going to be a good day tomorrow was Harry’s last thought before he drifted into sleep holding his wife.

Harry’s high point ended at 9:30 am because a sob rang through the home,the sob came from Alexander Nash Styles.Alex was standing at furthest five inches from Lia’s face.

“Mummy.” The choked out sob rang through and Lia opened her eyes confused and then had wide eyes after she registered her baby was in tears and had a bright red face damn near hyperventilating.

Both parents springing up from their position wrapped in each other to pull their four year old into bed with them.

“What’s wrong baby? Did you throw up, it's okay.” Lia asks with her sweet Alex perched in her lap.

“No.” it barely came out but when it did the force of the cry almost made him throw up.This was not a normal cry for Alex this sweet boy who barely cried as a baby let alone a toddler was having a full on terror cry.Shoving his face in his mom or Mum as Harry insisted chest,Lia could only rub his back and shh his until he calmed down after a few more sobs.

“Now that you’ve calmed down,want to tell momma what’s wrong?” Lia took a hand and placed it on the side of his face and placed a kiss on Alex’s puckered lips as he already knew that was his mummy’s motives. “Thank you for the kiss.Now let’s wipe these tears and tell mummy what happened.Did you have a bad dream?”

Alex shook his head so hard it collided with Lia’s collarbone making her wince a bit.

“Lala cut-” little whine slipped from his throat. “Cut my pants on my bum and then...cut my curlies.” The cry started again Lia and Harry shared a look and then a giggle which caused Alex to look at his parents. “Oh no Bashy.What is Lala cut Bashy too.”

The thought of his baby brother getting a tailor job from Lala scared him so much and took him to protective brother mode.Alex made a mad dash to the nursery making both parents move  out of bed because Bashy could not be woken up on due to someone else.

“Careful it’s only been three weeks!” Harry warmed his wife who was quick to jump out of bed but Lia waved him off speeding down the hall in her green sleeping shorts to see what Alex was going to do after one noticed that Bashy had fallen victim to Lala as well.

Lia was met with a plea from Alex to get his baby brother out of his crib and check him.

“No,Alex come on let’s wait for him to wake up on his own unless you want a cranky brother.” Lia keeps her voice down as Harry goes to pick Alex up and starts to walk him out.

“Let’s let baby brother sleep,I'll check him later.You and I can make breakfast,let mummy and Bash sleep for a little longer.” Harry said as he walked down the stairs but before he could respond Sebastian’s cry rang through the house and caught the attention of Alexander to which Harry threw his head back and hoped Lia could get the message telepathically and change Sebastian fast before Alexander threw another fit.

“Put me down daddy! I need to check Bashy now!” The four year old thrashed himself in his daddy’s arms and had more strength than Harry had thought.Alex was a little man on a mission running up the stairs and down the hall to his baby brothers room.Harry chased after him but was not fast enough because he heard the cry that came from Alex.

“Oh no!Lala got Bashy too!”

And the sob continued leaving Alex’s mouth which caused Bash to let out a cry and the parents at a loss for words.For the first time in three weeks both their babies were crying at the same time and neither knew how to begin consoling them.

“I should have just let Lala track flour through my house.”

#dad!harry #daddy!harry #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #one direction #harry #styles #not proff read and if you don't like it don't tell me I'll cry #constructive #criticism #is #okay