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magnoliabutters · 2 years

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RISKY BUSINESS • STORIES FOR DWEEBS •

pairing: robin buckley x (female, 18+) reader

summary: oh look, a poor new lesbian needs your help.

warnings: 18+ content, mdni; fluffiest of fluffs, experienced reader, inexperienced robin, heavy flirting, light petting, pet names, etc.

word count: ~2.5k

support your writer: if you enjoy, please give a reblog so others can enjoy too! 🤘🏼

note: time for a new series! we're trying something new today. our reader will be the experienced les in today’s post. we will also be primarily leaning into the fluffs for now. as always, i'm open to feedback - especially when i'm trying something new! lmk what you think! <3

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“What am I supposed to do?” the girl says, dragging her hands down her face. Her overexaggerated sigh draws your eyes to her. You spot her past the shelved horror movies you were looking through. Behind you, your friends comically debate about what type of movie to watch tonight. To your surprise, Steve Harrington stands from behind the front counter of Hawkin’s local Family Video. He straightens his worker’s vest. “You could start by saying hello,” he suggests, as he begins to stack a pile of VHS’s. You had always imagined Steve to be quite the douche back in high school, but here he is supportively and genuinely listening to his coworker’s problems.

With another loud sigh, your glance is returned to the girl. She is absolutely beautiful, but not in the way that someone like Steve would quickly notice. Her hair is cut right above her shoulders. Freckles carefully placed throughout her cheeks. As you watch her peer through her fingers, you note her deep, turquoise eyes. Her light brown hair complementing those long, full eyelashes of hers. The girl rolls her head back in response to him. You find it amusing that these two are having such a vulnerable conversation without a care in the world for who could be listening. They weren’t even trying to whisper.

“How do you even do that? You just walk up to someone and say, ‘Hi, hello. I love you. Okay, bye,’” she says with a whine. Steve places his hands upon the counter. His face is more than unamused. “Maybe don't start with ‘I love you,’' he groans. “Well, see! That’s a perfect example of why I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to people,” she mutters miserably. This girl seems so puzzled, unsure of how to talk to someone. It boggles your mind that someone as gorgeous as her would have any difficulties striking up a conversation. You imagine that everyone would be lined up just to get the chance to talk to her - let alone that she would have to put in any effort into the interaction.

While keeping your ears open, you follow your friend’s lead to the Romantic Comedies section of the store. The girl shrugs her shoulders. A slouch appears within her seat. You have never noticed her before. Why is that? Her body language gives off an awkward, sulking personality. Yet, hearing her hoarse voice and how she speaks gives you the sense of someone who doesn’t put up with anyone’s shit or play games. “What are you looking at?” your friend, Taylor, asks innocently. You quickly drop your eyes to the shelf that you were pretending to look at; always so quick on your feet. “I’m just trying to choose between Risky Business and Fast Times,” you turn towards her. “Oh man, Tom Cruise or Sean Penn?” she genuinely asks, grabbing the films from the shelf. You flip the Risky Business tape within her hand. Pointing towards its back cover, you whisper, “I prefer Rebecca.” Taylor laughs as she places both films back onto the shelf. “Yeah, I know,” she says, tapping on your shoulder as she walks behind you. She pulls herself closer to your ear and whispers, “Just like I know you’re watching that girl up front.” Taylor giggles as she walks down the other side of the aisle. You roll your eyes in response and return to your shelf.

“Robin, you’re being a bit dramatic,” Steve laughs. He nods his head. He looks as though he is desperately trying to get any type of work done. You detect a slight annoyance in his voice as he continues to repeat the same piece of advice to her. The girl scoffs, greatly offended. “I am not! With one word, I could just ruin everything like that,” she says with a snap. Behind you, Taylor giggles alongside Liz, your other friend. Your attention is pulled from the workers again. “You should totally go ask for his number,” Liz eggs her on. “He hasn’t really been with anyone since that Wheeler girl.” You snort, “Oh yeah and that’s totally a good sign.” Liz rolls her eyes as Taylor playfully smacks your arm. Her affect becomes serious as she meets your eyes. “Do you think I should?” Taylor asks excitedly. With a quick movement, you grab Sixteen Candles from the shelf and place it in her arms gently. “Lead the way,” you say with a slight gesture of your arm. She smiles, releasing a slow breath from her lips.

As you make your way to the front counter, you hear the girl, Robin, groaning again. Her unsure, concerned whines leave you with a fluttering beat to your heart. “I just want to be able to talk with her - tell her how I feel,” she begins to say as she turns her eyes towards your group. Taylor quickly shoots a look your way, confirming that you had heard what she heard. You shine a quick side smile and turn back to Robin. “Oh! Hey guys, Sixteen Candles?” she says, reaching over to retrieve the movie from Taylor’s hands. Taylor continues to hold on tightly to the movie, moving her eyes to Steve just a few steps away. Robin focuses on her grasp. Her eyebrows push together as she attempts to understand why your friend wasn’t giving her the tape. “Can he help me rent this out?” Taylor whispers, nodding to Steve. He is too focused on his own work tasks to look your friend’s way. Robin rolls her eyes and harshly smacks Steve in the shoulder. “Ah, what the hell?” he says, slowly looking up. “Oh! Hey ladies. Sixteen Candles, huh?” he asks with a smile as he leans over the counter towards them. The two girls giggle as they speak with Harrington.

Robin laughs to herself and walks to the other side of the front counter. You follow her slowly, hoping to come off as casual as possible. Robin reaches down to grab hold of the latest TV Guide magazine. She carelessly flips through the pages as she traces circles on some of their listings. You softly lean onto your elbows beside her. The cool surface comforts you. Your eyes watch her as though she is a frightened deer. Any sudden movements would leave her fleeing. “Hey, do you ever get sick of watching him talk up all your customers?” you ask softly. You maintain your gaze on your friends and Steve. Given the conversation you overheard, eye contact may be too much for her at first. Robin turns towards you, placing her pen down. You see a slight smile in your peripheral vision. Over her shoulder, she follows your eye line to the group on the other end of the counter. “Yeah, it can get annoying,” she says with a nervous laugh. You finally turn towards her. Your eyes glazing over her cute face and down to her subtle tie. “I don’t see what they see in him. Do you?” you ask as your eyes lift to hers. Her face fills with curiosity and happiness from your initiation. “No, not in the way they’re looking at him,” she responds with a light-hearted tone. She struggles to decide whether to keep her eyes on you or Steve.

With a smile, you say, “I like you. I’m y/n.” You pull your hand up slightly to shake hers. “I’m Robin,” she says with a chuckle. Her hand meets yours. You try your best to ignore the sparks that are sent out throughout your body. Attempting to maintain your cool, you trace your thumb lightly against the back of her hand. “So when’d you start working here, Robin? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” you ask, slowly releasing her hand. Robin awkwardly lands her weight back onto her elbow. “The end of the summer,” she smiles to herself. “I-I’ve never seen you here either. What’s your, uh, your genre?” She nods towards the several categorized aisles. You swing around to see all the options. “Well, I usually like to spend my time watching horror flicks but my friends have been trying to get me into some rom-coms,” you casually reply. “Chick-flicks, right?” she says with a snort. Her confidence immediately drops, but you refuse to show her that you noticed. “Yeah, it’s pretty lame but hey, the things we do for our friends,” you sigh, turning back towards her. Her smile gradually returns, confidence slowly building within her.

That beautiful smile leaves you with an ache to your heart. It was soft, sweet, and above all genuine. As you return your gaze towards her, you observe a beaded bracelet on Robin’s wrist. You reach up and gently place your hands to the sides of her forearm. “Woah, this is awesome! Did you make this?” you ask, strategically placing space between the bracelet’s elasticity and the inside of her wrist. Her breath quickens to your touch. She lightly bites her lip and turns towards you with a hesitant grin. “Uh, yeah! I have a matching one with my friend,” she responds. “Scoops,” you read the letters aloud. You shoot her a confused, but amused look. She laughs hesitantly, “I used to work at the Scoops Ahoy at the mall.” You slowly and softly tap your pointer finger against her skin. “Damn, really? I used to go there all the time. I’m sure I would’ve remembered you,” you smoothly reply. Your eyes landing on hers as you bounce your eyelashes off one another.

Robin scoffs timidly. Her mouth slightly opens, but words are unable to come out. You naturally fill the space so that she remains comfortable. “I can’t imagine you wearing that Scoops Ahoy uniform. Do you still have it?” you ask, leaning closer to her. Your eyes fall upon where your hands meet. Her breathing more flustered as you close the distance between you both. Your finger lightly flicks against the elastic band. Robin releases a soft, shaky sigh. “I do, actually,” she says with a hint of laughter to her voice. Your eyes lift towards hers - deep blue and full of curiosity and thrill. With a slight bite to your lip, you watch Robin’s cheeks grow from pink to red. “I bet you look good in that uniform,” you whisper, shifting your weight so that you may be face to face with her. As your teeth make more of a dent onto your bottom lip, your eyes watch her from behind strands of your hair. You note any slight movements in her body, preparing yourself if she gives you any indications that she is not interested. Robin sucks in a quick breath. Her hands are sweaty but gentle within yours. She flashes you a grin that leaves tingles down your spine.

With a quick and steady flow, you raise your body from the counter. You trace your finger down her wrist and off her palm. Robin’s face shifts into worry as you pull your touch from her. While maintaining eye contact, you carefully retrieve her pen as it lies on the magazine. You turn to your right to see a few business cards lined up against the computer. “Oo! Symanski, Real Estate,” you excitedly mutter under your breath. She laughs at your demeanor. Flipping it over, you write your phone number on the card. Robin’s eyes are fixed to every single number you scribble out. Her amazed stare lifts to you as you slide the card over to her. Just as she reaches for the card, you place a gentle finger underneath her chin. You raise her eyes to yours. “Robin, darling. I’m going to give you some advice,” you say, nonchalantly. “Don’t ask a man how to flirt with a woman. It’s a bit different for us.”

Robin begins to stutter, trying her best to comprehend what you have just said to her. Her face completely drains of blood. You find it entertaining given how loudly they were discussing flirting with women earlier. “We need to be a bit more sneaky - especially if we aren’t out yet. Little flirts here and there,” you continue. Your finger softly travels down to where her jawline and neck meet. Your eyes fixed upon her skin. “Some that can be interpreted as just being nice, while others leave the girls … questioning,” you trail off. You give her a quick smile as her mouth hangs open. You attempt to pull away, but she gently grabs hold of your hand. “But, how do I know if they like girls, o-or me?” she asks with concern. Her eyebrows raise as vulnerability seeps throughout her body. Her confidence depletes in front of you. “She’ll let you know,” you say with a squeeze to her hand. “You are a better flirt than you’re giving yourself credit for. Whoever this girl is, the one that’s got your eye, she’s lucky just to even have your attention.” Robin’s face returns to color. She smiles as you softly place your other hand over hers. You return your eyes towards her as you gradually pull away.

Suddenly, Robin’s eyebrows furrow. Her beautiful smile fades away. Worry tightens your chest. “Wait, was this real?” she asks hesitantly. Her finger swaying between you two. Her eyes wide and vulnerable. It is clear she is terrified of your answer. You sigh in relief as you lay your eyes upon her. “You have my number, don’t you?” you softly chuckle, nodding towards the card. “Call me if you need any more lessons, darling. I’ll be waiting.” She lets out a shaky laugh in response as she pins her chin to her shoulder. You smirk at the sight of her genuinity. It’s not often you can look at someone and know exactly how they are feeling. Robin is absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Her mannerisms leave you with a sense of pure happiness. However, she has much to learn before you could ever let yourself think of her as more than just a baby gay. That’s where you can find yourself hurt, and you can’t go through that again.

The sounds of laughter pull your focus away from Robin’s ocean-blue eyes. Taylor holds the VHS back in her hands as she finishes her conversation with Steve. A slight giggle erupting from both of your friends’ lips. “I hope you girls enjoy the movie,” Steve says, walking around the corner. He places a confident hand upon Taylor’s lower back as he guides them towards the front. “And Taylor, you’ll give me a call?” he asks as he releases his touch and waves the girls out. Taylor bites her lip and nods, as she pushes open the door. You slowly turn back to Robin. You note Steve glances towards you both as he returns back to the counter. With a playful tone, you softly say, “See you next time, Robin.” You shoot her an electric smile as you spin around to return to your friends. You feel her gaze upon your back. As you walk out the door, you hear a distinct, “Holy shit!” and “Who was that?” behind you. You find comfort in providing the duo with their next discussion topic.

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note: i wish i could be as confident as the reader, god damn! i look forward to your thoughts :3

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #robin #st robin #robin buckley #steve harrington #pov #st fluff #stfanfic #lesbian #lgbtqplus #lgbtwriter #lgbtqia #gay robin #eddie munson #sts4

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scrumptiousphantomballoon · 6 months

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What Hollywood Can Teach Us About replica handbags

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___

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#replica bags online

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findpetonline · 2 years

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Find Pets & Accessories Online For Adoption

Did you know that over 7 million animals are taken to the animal shelter each year? Seven million. That's a staggering number. It boggles the mind why anyone would go to a breeder to get a new pet when there are so many animals in desperate need of a home. In fact, if you're looking for a specific breed, you'll probably find it in an animal shelter. When you consider you have 7 million choices, chances are your breed is somewhere. Instead of going to a breeder, save a precious life and adopt a pet. Here are four good reasons why this is the better way to go.

1. Many Are Older

Nobody will dispute how adorable puppies and kittens are, but they can also be quite a handful. If you are older or are looking for a pet for an elderly person for companionship, it's better to select an adult animal that is more laid back. Puppies and kittens require a tremendous amount of play, training, and exercise to expend their energy. Older animals tend to be more docile and make for wonderful companions to anyone who needs a calmer pet.

Many Are Already Trained

Many of the 7 million animals that are in shelters were previously owned. Some people have no choice but to relinquish their pet; others just do so callously. Regardless you can benefit from this by selecting a pet from the animal shelter adopt a pet programs. These animals are already trained, including housebroken, which means you will spend more time helping them adjust to their new home and loving them instead of training them.

Many Are Already Family Broken

Alongside being housebroken, many pets in animal shelters desperately waiting to be adopted have already lived with families. This makes them perfect for another family who is looking to find a dog or cat. If the animal is used to children, you run less risk of them being frightened or aggressive toward your little ones. Family-broken pets adjust easier to their new home, as they're looking to be loved once again by another family.

Many Are on the Kill List

Tragically, not every animal shelter in the United States is a no-kill shelter. Seven million animals are taken to animal shelters each year, and the number of them that are killed is equally disturbing. If you choose to adopt a pet from an animal shelter rather than buying one from a breeder or pet store, you are literally saving that animal's life. Don't get an animal from anywhere else. Go to your local animal shelter, ask for the kill list, and save the life of an animal that is scheduled to be euthanized.

When you look at it this way, it doesn't make any sense to get your next dog or cat in any other way than to adopt a pet. You are not only bringing a loving animal into your home that wants to be with you and your family, you are also saving its life from an untimely an unfortunate death. Please save an animal today.

Source of Blog: Click Here

Adopt a Shelter Dog Month is being celebrated all across the USA. This event takes place all over the country in October month. During this period, individuals take care of dogs, adopt them and do almost everything to let them have loving & happy homes.

We all know that caring for a pet is a huge social responsibility. Millions of dogs in the USA are homeless and they suffer a much tougher time finding shelter. Are you a dog lover? Want to adopt a dog and give it a happy life? What should you do? Let's read out now!

Several studies have revealed that not only experience a strong sense of affection and love for their owners but also improve their life, health, and mood up to a great extent. Instead of spending a lot of money on purchasing dogs from professional sellers, just adopt a animal from the shelter. You can opt for a number of pet items to take care of the adopted and let them have happy moments.

Always keep in mind that customized Tennis balls are one of the dog's favorite toys. They play with colorful Tennis balls and be pleased. You can purchase customized Tennis balls for adopted from online retailers. Compare the offers made by different retailers and choose the one who is ready to offer you customized Tennis balls at affordable price tags, free shipping, and discounts.

After successful placement and confirmation of your order, you get the customized Tennis balls at your specified address. Dogs play with Tennis balls and have fun. Such balls are made in the USA with non-toxic materials and designed to promote interactive play between a human and a animal.

Like any other animal, your dog may also want to roam free. However, because of many reasons, you wouldn't like your dog to roam. Accidents from the vehicle, collisions with other animals, infectious diseases, parasites, and legal consequences are some of the reasons why you would like to keep your adopted dog under control.

Just purchase a woven dog leash from an online retailer. You can get it customized as per your design preference. Carefully choose quantity, text, color to get customized woven dog leash. With its help, you can control your pet's movement up to a great extent and provide it a good living environment.

Do you want to make your dog look trendy and attractive? If yes, get in touch with an online retailer and choose from a wide variety of unique dog collars. You can outline your choices for size, styles, and materials, to the retailer and get customized dog collars at your doorstep. Make your dogs look more attractive with colorful dog colors.

It will also help you to find lost dogs with the help of customized dog collars printed with your contact and address details. You can also use Pet Expressions Personalized Coffee Mug to attract people's attention to Adopt a Shelter Dog Month and encourage them to be attentive to pet care.

It will contribute to the dog's welfare and protection up to a great extent. All dog lovers will happily accept personalized coffee mugs with dog's images.

Find Pets in Canada Cities Mentioned Below:

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Find Pets for adoption in UK

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Find Pets For Adoption in USA:

#pets

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feralphoenix · 3 years

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SONGS OF RESISTANCE: The View Myla Grants Us Of Hallownest’s Moths

hello again hollow knight fandom, i am back with my picante takes and ready to discuss two things i love: myla hollowknight and the moth tribe! Let Us Be Sad About Them Together.

as with my previous essay i’m going to be putting this fellow up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. this time i’ll be attaching that in a reblog to avoid this post getting eaten by the dread tungle algorithms.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses colonialism and genocide both in real life and the fictional depictions in Hollow Knight, as well as racism in the zombie horror genre and in fandom.

ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay

SONGS OF RESISTANCE: THE VIEW MYLA GRANTS US OF HALLOWNEST’S MOTHS

In this house we are all love Myla.

Well, in all fairness, there are probably plenty of Hollow Knight fans who aren’t interested in her character, since which fictional characters one attaches to is always a matter of personal preference. But she’s still well-loved for a minor NPC and inspires a high level of devotion in her fans. There’s nothing that whips folks into a frenzy like a cute character you can’t do anything to help, and unlike some other characters in Hollow Knight Myla’s fate leaves no room for ambiguity. Once you pick up the Crystal Heart you’re left with only two choices: Avoid her, or kill her.

A lot of Hollow Knight’s world is designed to make you care about it so that it will hurt more when Ghost’s violent skillset proves too limited to save something or someone. The consequences of Hallownest’s founding and policies have directly or indirectly caused a great deal of damage to everything, and chief among those consequences with massive damage and a wide splash range is the Infection. Much has been said elsewhere by other people about Hollow Knight’s predominating mood being a struggle against futility, with Ghost arriving at the eleventh hour and every new tragedy designed to make the player more desperate to find something actionable, only finding out by trial and error what’s beyond your personal ability to save.

Myla, in that sense, is a typical example of that worldbuilding. She’s a particular kind of stock character in the zombie horror genre, the innocent who falls victim to the plague and cannot be saved, wrenching audience hearts and demonstrating the stakes.

But Hollow Knight plays with the trappings of zombie horror in a very unusual way, one I find thematically fascinating.

For a quick overview, the “zombie” as we know it in popular culture is an appropriation of a voudou (the Black American spiritual practice) concept that deals with the fear of slavery killing one’s spirit. (People more versed in/with roots in voudou culture can give a much more comprehensive overview than this simplistic one.)

The zombie horror genre, especially in Western media, is part of the great white fragility stock plot trifecta (the other two being alien invasions and robot uprisings). Zombie horror in particular expresses white fears that marginalized ethnic groups will rise up violently in revenge for their mistreatment and destroy white society. The fear of “that which is human, which ‘humanity’ is not” (to borrow mecha visual novel Heaven Will Be Mine’s pithy term) and the extreme levels of violence towards human-but-not bodies typical of zombie horror are often an expression of such bigotries. This is, again, a subject that’s been discussed in greater depth and with more nuance elsewhere.

But what Hollow Knight does is take the ugly metaphors and it makes them literal, makes it harder to ignore the toxic subtext of the genre. The Infection is literally a native god’s revenge on the settlers who committed genocide* against her people. How the Pale King’s colonization of the crater negatively affected the preexisting groups of bugs underpins every level of the worldbuilding, as does Hallownest’s cruelty towards its neighbors.

Hollow Knight is a game that is about the tragedy of Western imperialism. It is one of the work’s central themes. There are a lot of conversations that need to be had about the ways these themes manifest and, on a real-world level, about fandom’s predisposition to avoid the subject.

But, for now, let’s get back to Myla. If she fits such a stock zombie horror archetype, and Hollow Knight uses zombie horror tropes to underline the conversation it attempts to have about colonialism, then what has Myla got to teach us about the overall worldbuilding?

There's two topics I’d like to broach here: First we’ll get into how the circumstances of Myla’s infection fit in to the implied role of Crystal Peak in pre-Hallownest society. Then let’s take a long look at the lyrics of Myla’s song and what it implies.

MYLA, THE CRYSTALS, AND THE HOLY MOUNTAIN

If you think about it, Myla is an interesting outlier compared to the other NPCs we encounter on the verge of succumbing to the Infection. Both Bretta and Sly are unhappy: Bretta is a lonely, anxious bundle of abandonment issues yearning for someone to sweep her off her feet; Sly misses his pupils and loved ones who’ve left him in death (we never learn who Esmy is or what they were to Sly, but we sure can tell they’re not around anymore). The temptation to dream away those sadnesses seems to play a part in their vulnerability to the Infection, and also why Ghost’s interruption brings them back to reality.

Not so Myla. She appears to be blissfully unaware of her fellow miners’ fate, and most of her dialogue prior to her infection (besides the song - we’ll get to that later) is about how much fun she’s having at her job and how much she enjoys Ghost’s occasional company.

Yet she still winds up infected when Ghost’s back is turned. Why?

Not to discard the possibility that Myla’s got her own issues too, but in her case there seems to be another likely cause at hand: The crystals. If hit with the Dream Nail before infected, she mentions that she can hear them “singing” and “whispering”.

Under the The Hunter’s Hot Takes section of the Hunter’s Journal entries on various Crystal Peak enemies, we can learn more about the crystals - particularly in the entries for the Husk Miner and Crystallized Husk.

Crystal Peak’s crystals were thought of as particularly precious in Hallownest and harvested en masse for use in luxury items and the like. To do so, the mining operation was set up throughout most of the mountain, though the area around its peak still remains largely untouched. However, there’s more to the crystals than just that. Like Myla, the Hunter notes that the crystals can be heard to sing very very softly if one listens closely enough.

Perhaps of even more interest than that is this particular comment he gives us, from the Crystallized Husk journal entry: “There is some strange power hidden in the crystals that grow up there in the peaks. They gleam and glow in the darkness, a bright point of searing heat in each one.”

I don’t think it’s a particularly revolutionary idea to point out that there’s some connection between the crystals and Radiance’s power; this is something many players have intuited just based on Myla’s dialogue. But, in order to understand what Myla is demonstrating about the game’s world I think it’s important to think about what that connection is.

Speaking of which, the local Whispering Root has two important clues for us: The phrases “light refracted” and “energy contained”.

The very top of Crystal Peak is one of the only places in the crater where the moths’ architecture has escaped Hallownest destroying it, and is the only place in the entire game setting where their religious iconography remains fully intact. There are stone monuments covered in their language (which has been destroyed with the rest of their culture) and the statue of the Radiance - this is easier to see in the Wanderer’s Journal tie-in book, but the huge stone arches upon the Crown represent Radi’s halo and its rays and encircle her when viewed head-on or from a distance instead of the side view we get in the game.

The crystals grown here were used by the moths to store and cultivate Radiance’s light. It’s impossible to know what sort of architecture/infrastructure existed inside the mountain before Hallownest stole it from the moths. But between the massive scope of her statue and all the texts at the Crown, and the fact that the moths were working with their literal actual god’s freely given power here, it can be safely asserted that Crystal Peak was a holy ground to them.

Hallownest didn’t care about the mind-boggling level of spiritual significance Crystal Peak must have had to the natives, though. To the Pale King and his people, the crystals are just a natural resource to be harvested for personal profit.

This is unfortunately a conflict that still plays out in colonized countries today. If you’re American, #NoDAPL probably comes to mind; Canada, Australia, and New Zealand are filled with these sorts of horror stories too. Settler disrespect for indigenous sacred grounds is a huge problem that needs addressing. If you’re looking at the story of Crystal Peak and thinking it’s very on-the-nose... maybe it needs to be.

Anyway, Myla is nowhere near as miserable as Bretta or Sly, but she still notices that something’s up with these crystals. She hears the voice coming from inside, and she’s curious, and she tries very very hard to listen to it... so she DOES end up hearing Radiance’s voice. Radiance’s real voice, not the songs and whispers inside the crystals: The voice of a frightened, angry, grieving god who knows there’s a new vessel running around in Hallownest, and doesn’t want any part of that. A voice that’s pleading for someone, anyone to kill this dangerous creature, and save her from the threat Ghost poses.

Between how freaked out Radi is to know Ghost is poking around, the tendency we see in her boss battles for her to panic and kneejerk blast things at full volume/vibrance when she’s panicking, and the way her dream broadcast seems to be only a one-way communication line while she’s in the Black Egg... naturally this spells disaster for poor Myla.

Similar to the Moss Prophet, this small tragedy is a demonstration of the eleventh-hour state the conflict is in: The Pale King has escalated this situation so far, and Radiance is so traumatized and isolated, that bystanders who might in a kinder timeline have become Radi’s allies instead get caught up in her AOE. Myla’s definitely not as aware of the overall situation as the Moss Prophet, since she’s a Hallownest bug and not an indigenous one the way they are. But she noticed things were not as they seemed, and she was curious. Who knows what new possibilities could have opened up, if Radiance was able to truly communicate with bugs in the outside world?

Small side note before we move on, but I’ve noticed a tendency among some folks who notice the missed connections to come down extra hard on Radiance and chalk Myla’s infection/Moss Prophet’s death down to deliberate cruelty on her part. I’d like to gently push back against this.

Living in a post-colonial world we all absorb some level of prejudice from our surroundings, and it’s important to take a look at our first assumptions about people (or, in this case, fictional characters lol) to examine whether these prejudices we’ve inherited have influenced those assumptions.

So, if your first instinct is to look at this situation and say the problem is that Radiance is being too harsh and too angry where she should have stepped back and softened her emotions for others’ benefit to gently persuade them to her side... Please think about how when people of color and non-Christians express anger or hurt at our treatment, or even so much as calmly assert our boundaries, white/Christian viewers often view us as much more aggressive and threatening than we actually are. The “angry black woman” trope is a good example of this stereotype. You may want to look up the HuffPost article “Why It’s So Hard to Talk to White People About Racism” and its discussion of white fragility to further understand this phenomenon.

It is absolutely essential to remember the complex power dynamics in play in Hollow Knight and that the Pale King deliberately imprisoned Radiance (who had at this point already gone through an extreme amount of trauma) in a way that would compromise her ability to communicate with others. If you can extend compassion to characters like Ghost or the Pale King and empathize with their motives/feelings when their actions cause harm, but you are not willing to do the same with Radiance... it’s important to sit down with yourself and examine why that is.

THE MEANING BEHIND MYLA’S SONG

Okay, let’s switch gears and take a look at the lyrics to the song Myla sings, since it’s got some interesting things to tell us too.

The first verse, which you can hear from Myla the first time you meet her/before you acquire Vengeful Spirit, goes:

Bury my mother, pale and slight Bury my father with his eyes shut tight Bury my sisters, two by two, And then when you’re done, let's bury me too

There’s not much particularly story-related going on here except foreshadowing that Myla may in fact wind up dying. Most of what we get here is that a) this is a song about burying the dead and b) it’s morbid as fuck.

Curious, a new player might think of the mention of burying the dead; there are a lot of corpses just lyin’ around all over the ground - something that might lead one to believe Hallownest didn’t have such a custom. Later players will discover the Resting Grounds, confirming Hallownest did bury its dead... and that the gravekeepers are all dead too.

Let’s look at the second verse, which Myla remembers and will sing after you pick up Vengeful Spirit:

Bury the knight with her broken nail, Bury the lady, lovely and pale Bury the priest in his tattered gown, Then bury the beggar with his shining crown

This right here is where it gets interesting. The first verse describes the singer’s family as dead or dying, but the people we’re burying now sure do have some parallels to Hallownest's ruling body, don’t they?

Among Hallownest’s Great Knights, three of them - Dryya, Isma, and Ze’mer - were women. They are also very dead or might as well be: Dryya was killed by Traitor Lord’s resistance, Isma is a tree spreading acid through the kingdom’s waters to cut off access to the City of Tears, and Ze’mer hung up her nail after her mantis girlfriend’s death and only lingers on as a revenant.

While there aren’t any characters who are described in-text as “priests” in Hallownest, the idea of a tattered gown might bring Lurien the Watcher to mind, or perhaps the Soul Sanctum’s magicians before they went rogue.

The lovely, pale lady in the song can only refer to the White Lady, Hallownest’s queen. And there’s only one man in the game who has a shining crown: The Pale King. The lyrics are particularly derisive towards him in a way they aren’t to any of the other figures listed, too.

So, it seems like whoever came up with this song didn’t think much of Hallownest. With that in mind it’s hard to think that it originated from any sort of faction loyal to the king.

We’re missing a line from the third verse, which Myla sings after you’ve beaten Soul Master and she’s beginning to become infected. But what we do see of it is Huge in terms of lore:

Bury my body and cover my shell, [...] What meaning in darkness? Yet here I remain I’ll wait here forever ‘til light blooms again

So. The “protagonist” of this song’s family has died, and they expect to die as well, but even unto death they're waiting for Hallownest to fall and the light to return.

The moths became Hallownest’s gravekeepers after the Pale King forcibly assimilated them. Under the Pale King’s light, the moths forgot Radiance and most of their original culture, but Seer tells us in her final monologue that a few individuals remembered just enough to pass bits and pieces down through the generations. This secret resistance among the moths was what kept Radiance alive and prevented her from being sealed away entirely.

This song Myla sings comes from that moth resistance.

Code songs amongst oppressed ethnic groups are very much a real thing, especially when groups have to communicate or signal each other within hostile parties’ hearing. Since I’m American (and had a big ol crush on Harriet Tubman as a little kid lmao!) the first thing that came to mind for me when I made this connection was the working songs escaped Black slaves used in the Underground Railroad.

These have another point in common with the moth gravedigger song Myla sings, in that they enter the general cultural consciousness through out-group people who don’t know the true context. If you ever pick up a book of American baby songs, you’ll probably find some Underground Railroad code songs in there - often because generations ago white kids heard these songs from Black slaves or servants, and went on to sing the same songs to their children with zero awareness of what the songs were really for.

So some Hallownest bug somewhere probably heard the moths’ song and liked it and sang it in a context totally divorced from its original one, and it got spread around and passed down to become one of Myla’s old favorites, with her seemingly not realizing the meaning behind the lyrics. The moths’ song of devotion to their lost god survived them as a people.

This is some VERY realistic and layered worldbuilding. There is so much to glean from just one NPC’s dialogue when put together with other clues. Of course all of it is SAD and DEPRESSING, but Hollow Knight is a tragedy with a super unsubtle point to make about the unsustainability of Western imperialism.

What happens to Myla is awful, and upsetting, and unfair. So was what happened to the moths and their sacred ground, and to Radiance too. It’s important to understand the scope of the conflict that led to all this happening, trace it to its roots, and lay it at the feet of the ones responsible for engendering all this tragedy in the first place: Hallownest and the Pale King.

*A NOTE ABOUT MY USE OF THE TERM “GENOCIDE”

This is a tangent, but since there’s some debate about whether it’s appropriate to define the Pale King’s actions towards indigenous bug nations as genocide, allow me to cite the official definition of genocide here.

The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (the Genocide Convention for short) defines genocide like this:

Genocide is any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, religious, or racial group, as such:

A) Killing members of the group

B) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group

C) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part

D) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group

E) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group

Among the abovelisted, Hallownest is guilty of A (Deepnest and the moths), B (Deepnest physically/the moths vis a vis brainwashing), C (the mantis tribe and the hive), and E (the moths, which we know from Marmu, and possibly the mosskin also - Isma is mosskin).

Then there is cultural genocide, i.e. acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, religious, or racial group's way of life. Let’s look at the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (DRIP) and how it defines cultural genocide:

A) Any action which has the aim or effect of depriving them of their integrity as distinct peoples, or of their cultural values or ethnic identities

B) Any action which has the aim or effect of dispossessing them of their lands, territories or resources

C) Any form of population transfer which has the aim or effect of violating or undermining any of their rights

D) Any form of assimilation or integration by other cultures or ways of life imposed on them by legislative, administrative or other measures

E) Any form of propaganda directed against them

Hallownest is guilty of every item on this list. A: The moths, attempted with Deepnest. B: The moths, the mantises, the flukes, the mosskin; also attempted with Deepnest. C: The moths, the mantises, the flukes. D: The moths; attempted with the mantises and Deepnest. E: The mantises and Deepnest.

Any sort of discussion of the wide-reaching harm Radiance caused MUST include the context that the Infection is her response to multiple levels of genocide. Discussion that does not include this context loses nuance and simplifies the conflict and power dynamics portrayed in the game in ways that reflect real-life racism and Christian supersessionism.

Now, this is NOT some sort of holier than thou Fandom Purity dunk to say that it’s Bad or Wrong to care about Hallownest’s nobility. Like, one of my favorite characters in this dang game is the White Lady, who spent a long ass time enabling her husband’s actions before she finally walked out on him over the mass infanticide thing. You can, and it is okay to, love TPK and want rehabilitation for him while acknowledging that the dude has done objectively bad things.

I just feel that it’s important to keep things in perspective so that we don’t wind up stirring a bunch of real-world bigotry into our fandom funtimes. A lot of us don’t have the luxury of turning our brains off and simply Not Seeing It, because these same sorts of dynamics are behind a lot of the hardships that threaten our everyday stability.

It’s pretty hard to have conversations about those things in real life if one can’t even recognize them in fiction. So, this might be a good opportunity to start practicing anti-racism so we can better utilize that ideology in real life, where the stakes are much higher.

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #myla hollow knight #the radiance #hk myla #hk radiance #essay #long post under cut -

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alexwritesfiction · 3 years

Text

-> About Me (navigation)

Call me Alex. Born 2006, i’m a native indian student in high school. i like to write excessively in freelance times and make oddly specific playlists. 5SOS, One Direction enthusiast. It’s all about the aesthetic <3. I really love cats so please flood me with them. I love using emoticons :)

-> About My Writing

I mostly write contemporary fiction with diverse character representation. Number one enemies to lovers trope stan even though found family comes a close second. I also write fantasy (i love worldbuilding) and different genres to refresh. requests for drabble and fics are open! but it might take time since i get flooded sometimes.

-> About My WIPs (masterlist)

One Shots and Drabbles in Masterlist

Let Me Know To Be Added To The Taglists

Hey Micah (ongoing)

In which ayla has been in love with her best friend for as long as she has known life but his fate has other plans for him and alyssa.

“and i know in the depths of my heart that whatever happens to the three of us, we’ll always make it though. back to each other. home”

tw // major character death

Oblivion Of Everything (camp nano)

In which ten nights and a whole lot of coffee changes the connections between an insomniac and a sleepyhead, who just want to know what life is.

“whatever you do, don’t fall asleep” “well that’s ironic”

tw // insomnia

Noah And Peyton

in which two 15 year old best friends agree to date each other if they can’t find love till 19, and Noah is determined to not let Peyton’s relationships last.

“we made a pact, pey, and i’m just following it. break my heart, but don’t break the pact. or it’s gonna break us,”

best friends to lovers | diverse | coming of age | teen fiction

tw // eating disorder // assault

Xavier

in which a gang leader’s daughter is arranged to marry the world’s biggest mafia leader. Xavier Blackheart has been putting up a shield all his life, only to be ripped apart by Catherine’s diamond dagger, and she’s the queen he never asked for.

“i’m a spitfire, and he’s ice cold. i wait for the day he’s gonna melt and i’ll finally be able to see the boy beneath him. because as much as i hate to admit it, i know he’s there, trying to hold on to life while the world crumbles around him,”

tw // violence and gore // assault

She’s The Man

in which a neurodivergent girl dresses up as a boy to attend the most elite prep school to study and change the world, and she does. with the help of two twins, no less.

“I’d never really wondered how i’d look in a boys uniform. Until today, of course,”

“I might be able to live without one, because life goes on whether we want it to or not, but i certainly don’t want to. Live without you, that is. My world has two suns and i’m just as grateful to be their whole universe.”

Ashton Garcia and the Teenage Side of Things

in which a non binary pansexual Ashton Garcia tries to discover themselves while still struggling through the hell that is high school. coming out? therapy? fake friends? what has their life come to? they try to find all the answers by themselves, and realise along the way that sometimes, it’s okay to be different and it’s okay to accept help. they’re not alone, not if Tyler Jones has anything to do with it.

“the words on the billboard blurred as my clothes became wet in the rain and i couldn’t believe that, standing there, someone accepted me more than i accepted myself. and what do you know, it was a mind boggling feeling on its own,”

tw // minor transphobia and homophobia

Breathe - letter side project

a project that will contain letters for aesthetic topics and just normal every day things observed through the eyes of a visionary, with all of the freshness of new ideas and optimism and deep things. a salvation of sorts. words that are too different to merge into works but too important to not share with the world.

“it was a cluster of lost droplets falling onto the ground with ferocity, as if they'd lost their way home and had surrounded us with melancholy. seems that someone unravelled the bright cloud and poked it enough for it to break, to turn dark and broken and finally let go of the weight it was holding. only if the sun had been shining now, the sadness could have been converted into a beautiful spectrum of colours, a companion to the endless tears of the cloud, a smile in the darkest depths of the broken world.”

aesthetic | letters | philosophy | visionary | deep

We’ll Never Die (5SOS fanfic) (30k)

in which michael clifford and his fan meet on an airplane and the walls he’s built fall for her.

-> Do Not Interact

TERFs / queerphobic / racists / ableists / nsfw

-> Tag Lists

1. everything

@neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-bi-disaster @a-completely-normal-writer @felonyfairy @cool-but-confused @47crayons

2. Hey Micah

@mel-writes-with-her-dragons @zoya-writes

3. BREATHE

@zoya-writes @unbalancedscale @just-colorful-regret

#about me #writeblr intro #writeblr reintroduction #writeblr introduction #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writer #hey micah #writer memes #spotify #writers kit #poetry #poets of tumblr

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may-day-voice · 3 years

Text

First Impressions

Eijirou Kirishima's Timeline | 172732014

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/UaN7KhnC1WQ

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1061231254-eijirou-kirishima-pro-hero-au-172732014-first

The ticking of the clock nagged at the back of your mind. It didn't help while you sat at your desk, eyeing the clock on the wall, waiting for the day to end. Today wasn't as exciting as you thought it would be, being one of the few days that you were stuck at a desk rather than patrolling the city. Fourth Kind had been fervent about balancing effectiveness at the agency, but that also meant having to take up the desk job every once in a while.

You stared at the pile of papers you completed forms for regarding reports on your own patrols as well as any others in the agency. The one thing Fourth Kind was very fervent about aside from civil service was prompt paperwork. It was boring if you were being honest. You wanted to be out and about, seeing people, fighting crime, saving a cat, anything but staring at the hands of the clock counting down to the end of the day.

A yawn caught you off guard while you stretched your limbs up high, spying the seconds counting down on the wall.

"Ah, how's my best Hero?" Boomed a voice from behind, turning your head up and backwards to spot Fourth Kind, with all four arms crossed.

"Ah, sir?! Boss! Hey!" You exclaimed with a grin, waving at the Pro-Hero, still leaning against your chair.

"I'll need you to be a part of an operation prepared for downtown Musatafu. You're our best candidate for the job."

Well, that was sudden, and with only ten minutes and sixteen seconds to spare, but your face brightened up at the prospect of being considered for a major operation. It made you fumble a little on your seat, righting yourself to turn towards Fourth Kind properly.

"Whoa really?" You exclaimed, turning your gaze between him and the clock.

"Yes, it's being set up for Esuha City. I was originally part of the First Wave, but the Commission decided to keep us at a distance and put in some young blood," explained Fourth Kind, his eyes pensive at the decision. "Made me think of you to take my place, besides with your running record of keeping the peace in our small neighbourhood, you're a public favorite."

You nervously sighed, pondering on the tiny notion that this choice of his was favouritism over your primary skill set, however, that didn't deter the excitable butterflies in your stomach.

"So, what are the deets to this thing?" You asked, noticing the clock still counting down.

"Well, that's why I came to fetch you," started Fourth Kind. "The meeting's in half an hour at Fatgum's agency."

"What?"

"The operation is set for tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"Pack your desk down. We set out at 1655 hours."

And with that, Fourth Kind left you to your devices, staring blankly at his large back. Despite his passion for civil service, his promptness wasn't ideal at times, catching you off your game most times in the office. It was also part of the reason why you'd prefer patrols.

You stared at the clock, noticing its hands close to the time Fourth Kind had stated earlier before you pulled yourself up from the seat. At the very least, you were given an early mark.

——

The trek to Fatgum's agency wasn't eventful riding in Fourth Kind's car to the office. But with every turn on the road it made your stomach churn. You rapped your fingers on your lap with anticipation, wondering what this meeting was about. It came too suddenly at the end of the day, and as soon as your eyes landed on the building ahead, you could feel the nerves travel through your limbs.

After Fourth Kind parked his car, the both of you entered into Fatgum's agency, noticing a handful of Sidekicks leaving for the day, as well as noticing a small handful of Commission agents waiting around the foyer. Along with them was Fatgum, his burly size hard to miss while he conversed with who you presumed was a Hero. By the look of them, you recognized them as the Head of the Local Hero Network, soon watching them excuse themselves from their conversation to take a phone call.

"The meeting will start soon in Meeting Room One," informed Fourth Kind. "Be ready in ten minutes."

"Will do, sir," you affirmed, finding a smile on Fourth Kind's face before he greeted Fatgum ahead.

After the long drive, you decided to stretch your legs by taking a stroll around the foyer, making note of where the meeting room was held as well as admiring the agency. You've roamed inside once or twice before, but it was on a casual basis, more so because you were involved in Hero activities within the bounds of Esuha City, out of your volition, or out of your control. You sighed remembering the number of paperwork you had to fill, another bane of Pro-Hero life.

You soon found yourself wandering the agency, stumbling across a few Sidekicks who passed by ready to either end the day or start their shifts for the midnight hour. You couldn't imagine anyone who would willingly take graveyard shifts, but shrugged knowing that that wasn't the kind of life you'd ever want to find yourself in. Stuck in thought, you bumped into a tall figure taken by surprise by your absent-mindedness. He took a few steps back, hands up in defense before he uttered a small apology.

"Oh no, that's on me!" You yelped, mirroring the man standing by you with his long blue locks hiding away his eyes from you. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh, still, sorry about that," he spoke in a low whisper. "Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, I'm fine. You have a pretty hefty swing in your shoulder though."

"Is that bad?"

"Huh? No, I was going to say that you're probably pretty fit."

You smiled up at the man, finding his eyes looking elsewhere, yet he did not budge or make an attempt to leave your vicinity. You stared at him, wondering where you had seen him before. He looked awfully familiar, but with his casual tee and outfit, you couldn't quite place your finger on who he was.

"Is something wrong?" He quietly asked, noticing your stare.

"Oh sorry, that's rude of me," you apologized with a nervous chuckle. "I'll leave you be. Have a great evening!"

With that, you continued to walk the halls, leaving the broody man behind. You checked the clock on your phone, seeing that there was five minutes left before the meeting was to start. You contemplated if you could take a roundabout route back to the foyer or just turn your heel and walk back the way you came. Still, you may end up crossing paths with that gentleman again, which wasn't a terrible notion if it wasn't for that nagging feeling at the back of your mind that you had seen him somewhere before.

You quickly decided to turn tail hoping to save a few minutes if you trekked back the way you came, your body swinging on your heel until you crashed into somebody. In the collision, as if by reflex, he grabbed hold of your arm while you did the same, stopping you from falling backwards onto the floor. The rush was mind-boggling. You felt like you walked into a brick wall.

"Whoa, hey, you all right?" He asked, concerned for your well-being.

"Yeah I'm fine," you started, still boggled. "Thanks."

"Heh, my bad, I should've looked where I was going."

"Same. I thought I walked right into... a..."

You shook your head a little before you turned to find a redhead before you, his long locks loosely tied behind his head while his headband opened his face up with his toothy grin. He appeared a little disheveled as if he just came out fresh from the showers, but he was built and towered over you in a crisp shirt and track pants. He looked rather friendly though, his bright eyes smiling down at you until he stared into your own stare, his expression curious of your trailing silence while he still kept a hold on you.

"Hey, you sure you're okay?" He asked, waving his hand before your eyes to snap you out of your reverie.

"Huh? What? Yeah, I'm fine," you piped, shaking your head.

"For a minute I thought you had a concussion," he admitted with a smile. "Glad I'm wrong."

You chuckled nervously in reply while you reprimanded yourself internally at the embarrassment that soon travelled through your veins. Were you just staring at his chest of all places? And then the feel of his hands on you as did your hands on his crossed your mind, releasing yourself from him in realization.

In an attempt to keep your thoughts from bay, you pulled out your phone, noticing that you had lost a couple of minutes on the clock. Panic ensued, realizing that this meeting was about to start and you still had to trek back to the foyer.

"Well, nice to meet you. Sorry for the trouble. I have to go," you quickly spoke, running your mouth while you slowly made your way past the man to ready yourself until-

"You're part of Fatgum's meeting, yeah?" Asked the man, catching you off guard and halting you in your tracks.

"Um, yeah?" You replied, hoping not to waste any more time lest Fourth Kind reprimanded you for your lackluster punctuality.

"The foyer is quicker to reach down this way," suggested the redhead, pointing in the other direction.

"Really?"

"Yeah, the agency runs in a loop, it's better than having to walk three quarters of the way back."

That made so much more sense than to rush back the way you came adding more time to your dilemma. You quietly turned towards the redhead, walking past him and continuing to do so down the hall.

"Uh, thanks!" You quickly piped, hoping to get to the meeting before the man appeared beside you again, walking along with you.

"I'm on my way as well, so you don't mind if I join you?" He asked while he rubbed against his neck, rolling his shoulders a little.

"Oh yeah sure, why not?" You quickly spoke, still semi-power walking through the halls hoping that would shave seconds against the clock. Despite your speed, the man kept pace with you, looking unstressed about the matter. If it was the end of his day, he had it easy, unlike this impromptu meeting that was thrusted upon you.

"Wait a minute, you're part of this meeting too?" You asked, spotting a nonchalant look on the man's face.

"Oh yeah, Fatgum spoke to me earlier today about it," he answered with a smile.

"Do you happen to know what's going on?"

"You haven't been briefed about it?"

"I was only told about this whole thing before five this evening, and then the intention of being part of a First Wave? But that's about it."

You noticed something change in the man's demeanor, glancing your way before the both of you arrived into the foyer. It was quicker than you had anticipated to reach your destination before you noticed a group of people outside Meeting Room One. Aong with your boss Fourth Kind and Fatgum, a familiar gentleman spoke casually to the BMI Hero by the doors - that soft spoken man that you bumped into earlier in your wandering. Staring at the two conversing beside each other triggered that nagging feeling again, staring at the scene until it finally clicked where you had seen the man.

You didn't recognize Suneater out of uniform, only realizing that fact when you could visually see him next to Fatgum. You felt your ears warmed with embarrassment, recalling that minor altercation in the hallway despite it being a to and fro of self-blaming one another. You had spoken words with one of Fatgum's Top Heroes, in fact, with one of the most highly sought out and spoken about Heroes to graduate from UA in his time. And all you did was just stare. You felt like hiding away between your shoulders, wondering if he was part of the meeting until you spotted him bidding farewell to Fatgum, leaving the agency.

"There you are!" Yelled Fourth Kind from across the foyer, your shoulders stiffening from his harsh tone. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry," you called back. "I arrived within ten minutes just like you advised."

You shut your eyes, expecting a knock on your head by one of his many fists until you felt nothing come your way. You peeked through one of your eyes, finding Fourth Kind looking elsewhere but with a smirk on his lips.

"Well, long time no see," he spoke, catching your attention.

"I'd say the same Fourth Kind. How have you been?" Spoke the man's cheerful voice next to you.

"Doing my part, and keeping this one in line."

You felt his words referring to you, a little embarrassed and confused about the current exchange between the men until the redhead placed a strong hand on your shoulder.

"Oh they're one of yours?" He asked.

"My best and brightest, at least on patrol," replied Fourth Kind.

"Hey!" You retorted in kind.

"Come on folks, let's get this sorted," yelled Fatgum from afar, leading everyone into the meeting room for this briefing to start. "Get a move on Red Riot, you're the main focus here!"

"Gotcha, we'll be in soon!" Yelled the redhead.

Your heart immediately stopped. Did Fatgum just call this guy next to you the illustrious-

"Nice to chat with you Red Riot," commented Fourth Kind. "We'll see you inside."

"Sure thing, can I have a moment?" Requested Red Riot with a smile.

You only caught a haughty chuckle from your boss before he strode towards the meeting room, leaving you with the Pro-Hero still with his hand on your shoulder. You felt nothing but sheer and utter embarrassment at your lack of awareness. You blamed the whole day at a desk numbing your faculties, kicking yourself mentally that not only did you not recognize Suneater, but you didn't even discern the Red Riot.

"Wow, I never knew you were part of his agency," he started nonchalantly. "Guess it makes sense if you're in the First Wave instead of him now. But hey, I guess this is good news. I get to meet my partner before we set off on this mission tomorrow."

"Wait, what? Partner?" You piped, still trying to catch up to the situation.

"Yeah, I'm leading the First Wave and you're my reinforcement. It's just the two of us."

You stared at Red Riot slack-jawed, speechless from the arrangement. You were being partnered with the Red Riot, the rising Pro-Hero in Fatgum's agency only equal to the recent intake of Heroes from his academy no less. You stood there not knowing what you wanted to say. Was it a thank you, or an honorable mention? You were just a patroller if anything. Missions were somewhat a pipe dream you hoped to embark on one day, but never had you thought that would arrive tomorrow.

"Are you sure you didn't bump your head too hard back there?" He asked with concern.

"Uh, no, I mean yes, I'm okay, I'm perfectly fit and ready Red Riot. Whatever you need I've got your back," you blurted out.

Just what were you thinking?

"Please call me Kirishima out of uniform," he jested with a smile, his hand outstretched before him in greeting.

Still in shock and utter waves of nauseating embarrassment, you took his hand, feeling it engulf yours with a hearty shake. Kirishima soon led you towards the meeting room before seating yourself where your name card placed you, still next to him. It only exacerbated that self-consciousness of yours, feeling it implode with every glance of his smile, toothy or not. As the meeting proceeded, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him, finding his cheerful and serious moments both surprising and frightening. A mix of emotions ebbed and flowed; excitement, mortification, and the feeling that you may have blown your first impressions.

You thought best to get yourself out of desk job duties in the future.

#eijirou kirishima fluff #eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha au #bnha #kirishima #pro heroes #pro hero kirishima

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.)

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-��”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #lucifer morningstar #eve #amenadiel #michael #michael demiurgos #dromos #fanfic #my fic

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ashtheshortstack · 4 years

Text

Cold Brew

Rating: G Ship: Kristoff/Anna Entry for Frozen Monster Mash Zine @frozines! Check it out here!

Tags: Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Witch!Anna, Halloween Fluff Fic, Love Potion Shenanigans!

Happy Halloween!

Read on AO3

Winters were harsh in the town of Arendelle. Anna was almost certain that was Elsa’s doing. Her sister loved to experiment with her ice spells. Elsa had even gotten so powerful that she didn’t even need a wand to cast them. But sometimes her elder sister’s exploration of her abilities went arie and sent Arendelle into another harsh cold snap without any warning. The citizens made jokes about it, often joshing about how you never really knew what the weather forecast would be in their town. But Anna knew the truth…

Anna was quite the opposite of her sister. While Elsa liked to cast spells and conjure snow, Anna took the potions approach. She wasn’t sure what it was about finding the right ingredients to mix the perfect spell that excited her so much, but it did. That’s why Anna decided to take a job at the local coffee shop since she loved to mix together concoctions so much.

Besides, she loved coffee.

It was during the end of October that the chill set over the town. Often there’d be more and more patrons coming in for warm pumpkin spiced lattes or even skipping ahead a holiday to the peppermint mochas. Anna could understand--she was a sucker for any type of warm cinnamon flavors herself.

And most of her coworkers--Ryder and Honeymaren--were in agreement with that. But Kristoff… that man’s taste in coffee was atrocious. He liked it black. Hardly any sugar. Despised when anyone put vanilla in his drink.

Anna thought he couldn’t be human… and she wasn’t even one.

While working at the coffee shop, she’d met a lot of valuable customers. She often had regulars who’d ask how her day was going but there was always one that stood out amongst the rest: Hans.

The gingered haired man always flashed her a winning smile, complimented her appearance, and just made her weak at the knees. Anna had never had a boyfriend before. She’d always been more shy around boys. Besides, their parents had kept them pretty sheltered from people because of their abilities they’d inherited from their mother. When their parents died, Anna and Elsa had to make it on their own. So, she’d never really had a real chance at romance.

Hans at a table, sipping at the coffee she’d made him. Anna hummed dreamily, leaning on her palms as she rested her elbows onto the counter. She couldn’t help but be entranced by him.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made her jump.

Anna looked up at Kristoff with a yelp. “What?” she hissed.

The blond smirked. “You got a little drool…” he motioned to the corner of this mouth.

Humiliation flashed through her, only when she reached up to her own mouth, she found it dry. Ugh! Why was Kristoff like this!? Always joking and teasing her…

He barked a laugh at her reaction as she pouted up at him. “C’mon, Anna, if you’re going to thirst after customers I’m going to give you a hard time about it.”

She scoffed. “But why?”

Kristoff rolled his eyes at that. “Because you don’t even know him?”

“Of course, I do!”

Giving her a flat look, the blond leaned onto the counter. “What’s his last name?”

“Uh.. it starts with a W.”

“Eye color?”

“Dreamy, obviously.”

“Best friend’s name?”

“Probably John.”

Kristoff snorted. “Anna, seriously? How do you even know he likes you? How can you be so hung up on a guy who doesn’t even know your name?”

“Sure, he does! I have a nametag!”

“Bet he’ll pronounce it wrong.”

Kristoff shook his head with a sigh. “Honestly, Anna, you’re a witch … don’t you think you could do better than that guy?”

Hushing him, she glanced around. “Keep your voice down! Jeez!”

Ever since Kristoff caught her doing magic and she had to explain to him that yes , she was a witch and they did exist, he’d agreed to keep her secret. But somehow… she thought it made him more protective of her ever since he’d found out. While she appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t get why he made such a big deal out of things.

He patted her head. “I’m just trying to look after the most magical girl I know,” he said with a grin.

Anna groaned, pushing off the counter, ignoring the flush rising on her cheeks at his complement. “What are you? A love expert?”

“Well, no. But I bet I know more about love than you do.”

With a harumph, she crossed her arms and shot the blond a sour glance. “Fine. We’ll see about that.”

Anna intended to prove Kristoff wrong. She’d show him! When she arrived home from work, she pulled on her cloak and stomped down to the basement. Elsa appeared surprised to see her sister stomping over towards the caldron.

“Anna?”

She hadn’t been trying to ignore her sister. But she was just so hung up in her own thoughts. Anna couldn’t believe how negative Kristoff was being about her love life. She’d never heard of him talk about a girlfriend! Only his interest in fixing cars and his dog, Sven. Which Anna did find interesting, of course, because Kristoff was her friend despite it all.

Anna quickly flipped through her spellbook, probably too aggressively, as she muttered to herself. All she wanted was for someone to love her… in a romantic way, that is.

“Anna, what’re you doing?”

She didn’t even look up when Elsa spoke, continuing to glance through the pages. “Looking for a love potion recipe… ah-ha! ‘Lover’s Brew’ that’s it!”

Elsa sighed, pinching her brow. “Why are you looking for a love spell?”

“So that I can prove to Kristoff that Hans likes me!”

“By casting a spell? Isn’t that cheating?”

Scoffing, Anna shook her head. “Of course not,” she replied with a wave of her hand.

Elsa shook her head with a knowing smile. “Just… please be careful. Taking a love potion into work seems a bit risky.”

Anna had already begun the process of scouring through their shelves to find the ingredients she needed. She stacked the bottles into her arms before laughing at her sister’s doubts. “Oh, please, Elsa… I’ll be completely careful--ooh!” she nearly dropped her essence of frog, but was able to regain her balance to catch it. That would’ve been a nasty mess to clean up. Essence of frog smelled awful.

The grimace on her elder sister’s face spoke volumes, but Elsa was completely used to her sibling’s antics at this point. So, she just left Anna to it and crossed the room back to her own spells. But Anna noticed the occasional glance of Elsa checking on her.

Anna followed the directions of the spell word for word. Pouring in each ingredient with precision, sprinkling the powders, and stirring with her wooden spoon. She winced when she had to yank out a strand of her hair so the potion would have a specific love interest. Usually with potions she was able to do a test run… but there wasn’t any way to test this love spell. So… she’d just have to hope for the best. Luckily, she’d check and there weren’t any that were detrimental. The spell would only last twelve hours unless made permanent with true love’s kiss.

Perfect.

Anna smuggled the potion into work in her pocket. The day was normal… except for the anxiety egging at her chest knowing what her ill conceived plan was. This was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea to force someone to fall in love. Besides, she only had the next twelve hours to kiss Hans so he’d be permanently in love with her. And then they could get married and live happily ever after, right?

When Has approached the counter at his usual time, Anna felt her heart flutter. Today was the day. This man she’d been pining after for so long… she could finally have him. But Hans didn’t seem to be his usual self. He wore a frown and as he scrolled through his phone.

“Hello, good morning,” Anna began in her practiced chipper tone. “Would you like your usual?”

With a sigh of annoyance, Hans glanced up from his phone. “Not today. Just large, black with two sugars.”

Huh. Interesting. That was Kristoff’s usual. She’d always called him plain and shamed him for it, but if Hans liked that too… maybe she’d been too hard on her coworker.

“Yes sir, coming right up,” she chimed.

Hans was looking down at his phone again only giving a hum in response before moving to the side to wait for his order. Anna went to work preparing the order. It wouldn’t take long to do such a simple drink. Or it shouldn’t have, at least. Anna sprinkled in the two sugars before glancing around to make sure no one was around. She took the vile out of her pocket and quickly poured it into Hans’ drink.

“What’re you doing?”

She yelped. “Jesus Christ, Kristoff! Will you stop doing that?”

His scowl only remained as he crossed his arms. “What’d you just pour in there?”

“J-Just some sweetener that I made.”

Kristoff glared at her. “And you just happened to want to test it on that guy? To what? See if he likes it?”

“W-Well, yeah! If he thinks this is the best coffee he’s ever tasted then maybe he’ll like me, right?”

“Anna…” he pursed his lips looking between the drink and her face. “That’s a love potion, isn’t it?”

Anna sputtered, rearing back. She hated how easily Kristoff could figure her out! How did he do that!? “Psht! What?? No! Of course not. That’d be entirely unethical and--”

“Yoo hoo! Anna!” Oaken called from his office. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Dread washed over her as she looked between her boss and the coffee. Kristoff seemed to reluctantly take the cup. “Go. I’ll give it to him.”

Blinking, Anna stared up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

After her meeting with Oaken (about maybe becoming assistant manager with Kristoff which was mind boggling!), Anna practically skipped out of the office. She looked over at Hans and noticed him sitting in his usual place. He would have to drink most of the cup for the potion to take effect, so she’d just have to wait until he threw the cup away.

She looked around for Kristoff to check with him if he gave the drink to Hans, but she couldn’t find the blond anywhere. It worried her a bit… Had he not given him the cup? Surely, Kristoff wouldn’t lie to her.

But she didn’t have time to think about it. When she saw Hans throw away his--hopefully empty--coffee cup, it was time for Anna to strike. It would take five minutes for the potion to take effect. So, she kept her eyes on the clock as Hans scrolled through his phone at the table. Anna stalked over there as soon as she could. Smiling sweetly at him as she walked up.

“Uh, hi,” she said.

Hans gave her a once over. “You made that first cup of coffee, right?”

First cup…?

“U-Um, yes.”

He glared up at her. “It was absolutely awful. I made your broody manager drink it to prove a point.”

Blinking, Anna gaped. “You--You what? ”

Hans scoffed. With each annoyed look that graced his features, Anna felt her heart chipping in her chest.

“The coffee you made was bad. It had an awful after taste. I didn’t know it was possible to mess up black coffee, but you did.”

Anna’s fists balled at her sides. “Are you this rude to everyone? ”

Hans balked. “ Rude? Please, you’re the one who can’t make coffee correctly. It’s a shame really… and here I thought you were cute. But it’s true, pretty girls are always dim.”

The slap rang out through the coffee shop. She hadn’t meant to… Hans seemed surprised, jaw ajar as he gaped. There was already a red mark on his cheek. Anna knew as soon as she got home… she was putting a curse on his ass. She couldn’t believe this was the guy she’d been fawning over for two months.

Honeymaren and Ryder were there in an instant. Honeymaren grabbed Anna by the arm and started to tug her backwards away from the man. “Come with me, Anna,” she said quietly.

Ryder assisted Hans out the door, where the ginger haired man shouted profanities and flailed wildly outside the door as her coworker did his best to defuse him.

Anger fueled through her. Anna’s chest was tight as Honeymaren led her into the break room. Well, that’s where Kristoff had been hiding apparently. The blond seemed stunned to see her being dragged in by their coworker.

Honeymaren sighed as she led Anna to the couch. “What happened?”

“He called me dumb,” she blurted out.

Pursing her lips, Honeymaren nodded. “Okay… I’ll start on damage control. We’ll talk in a bit. You two just--relax a bit.”

Anna heard her grumble something about how weird this day was as she headed out the door. When Anna looked up, Kristoff’s cheeks were pink when he stared at her.

“You drank it, huh?” she asked.

“He made me.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Letting out a sigh, he looked away from her. “He threatened to go to Oaken. Apparently, his father knows him. Told me he’d have you fired for making such a disgusting drink. I reminded him that you’ve made all of his drinks before and never had a problem, but he didn’t care. He told me if I drank the whole thing--because he had to taste it and someone else should to--that he’d let it go. Ugh, what an ass.”

“I’m so sorry, Kristoff. I’m so dumb… This is entirely my fault. I-I’ll have to fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“Well, Oaken just offered me a promotion and then I went and slapped a customer. I guess a memory wiping spell would be best.”

“Ah… I think Oaken would understand. If he knows Hans’ father, I’m sure he knows what kind of man he is.”

Anna just smiled in response, unsure if she actually believed that. But the way Kristoff was staring at her made her heart leap into her throat. Fiddling with her thumbs, she glanced up at him shyly. “A-Are you okay?”

“I drank a whole love potion that tasted like fish coffee… Not really. All I can think about is how much I want to kiss you--” he blurted before smacking a hand over his mouth.

A blush spread across her cheeks. “Really?”

Kristoff groaned, flopping his head onto the small table. “Yes. And how close I want to be with you. How much I want to hug you and touch you. How happy you make me--and how stupid you make me too. God, I love you.”

An ‘eep’ left her lips. “Kristoff, I-I’m so sorry. It’ll wear off in twelve hours and you won’t feel this way anymore.”

He scoffed in response. “Oh, please. I feel like this every day. It’s just amplified. Maybe, your love potion is more of a truth serum when the person already loves you.”

“Wait, what?”

Kristoff shook his head. “This is bad. I have to get back to work,” he murmured. The blond sat up, eyes making contact with her own. Suddenly, those honey-brown eyes glazed over. A pink hue spread along his cheeks. Locking eyes had apparently distracted him from his mission. She hadn’t meant for this to happen…

He was entranced it seemed as he slowly meandered over towards her. Kristoff sat on the couch beside her. He was staring right at her. “I love you.”

Anna plugged her ears. “Stop. No, you don’t. It’s just the spell.”

Kristoff’s gentle fingers were pulling her hand away from her ear. “No… Anna, I’ve felt like this since I’ve met you. The stupid potion is just making me say it.”

“You--You love me? Even though I’m a witch?”

He snorted. “What difference does that make? You’re Anna. Being a witch doesn’t matter. If anything, it makes you even more special. I had feelings for you before I found out. It didn’t change anything.”

“W-Why didn’t you say it before…?” she asked timidly.

“Because…” he ruffled a hand through his shaggy, blond locks. “I could see how much you really liked that guy. I just knew you’d reject me.” His hand was suddenly on her thigh. Anna jumped at the contact. Kristoff grimaced as he yanked his hand away. “Crap, I’m sorry. This spell sucks.”

She wanted to agree. But… she couldn’t. Had she been so focused on her stupid infactuation with Hans that she couldn’t see what was right there in front of her? Kristoff claimed that he had feelings for her before he drank the potion. What if that were true? Had she been friendzoning him? Quietly rejecting him without realizing it?

There were so many wonderful things about Kristoff. She loved hearing about his life… about his big family and Sven. How much he loved fixing cars as a hobby--even offering to help her out for free any time she needed it, despite knowing she could easily afford it. He kept her secret when he found out she was a witch. Granted, he was really freaked out at first, but who wouldn’t be?

Instead of avoiding her, Kristoff was curious and supportive. He asked questions regarding her magic. Wanted to know more about her…

When she was down, Kristoff cheered her up with his jokes, his teasing, his smile…

Oh… She was an idiot.

How had she not realized how much Kristoff meant to her? How his stupid grins made her chest ache. How he sent butterflies fluttering inside her?

Anna chased after his hand, catching his much larger palm in her own. “No, it doesn’t. I’m the one who sucks. I’m so sorry, Kristoff. You’ve been here all this time, and I was too blind to see it. I had no idea of your feelings. And now, I’ve basically forced you to spill them out.”

He gave her a dopey grin. “I’m pretty sure even if I wanted to agree that this is your fault, the spell won’t let me.”

Snorting a laugh, she smiled at him. “Promise me… In twelve hours when this spell wears off, you’ll still say you love me.”

“Only if you say it back.”

She giggled at that before scooting closer. “I can arrange that.”

Kristoff was leaning in, almost unconsciously it seemed. But he paused, leaning back and shaking his head. “Sorry. This is really hard to resist.”

“Good thing I didn’t make the stronger one, huh?”

“There’s a stronger one? ”

Anna nodded. “Mhmm.” her lids drooped as she glanced at his lips and to his eyes.

“I want to kiss you…” he muttered. “May we…?”

“We may…”

Cupping her cheek with his large palm, Kristoff tugged her in. Anna’s eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her. Her heart danced in her chest, pounding wildly against her ribcage. How could she have been a fool to deny this man? His lips were so gentle and soft against her own. His thumb brushed along her cheek. Anna couldn’t help but wind her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Yeah… she could get used to this.

When she pulled away, her lips barely left his. “We’re probably at about eleven hours, right?”

The breath from his short chuckle teased her skin. “I’d guess so.”

“So, in eleven hours… you’ll tell me you love me and kiss me like this?”

“I promise.”

#kristanna #kristoff x anna #the queen & her reindeer king #ash writes #frozen fic #anna x kristoff #kristanna fic #halloween fic #witch!anna #coffee shop au #modern kristanna #spoopy season #frozen monster mash zine

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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[Here’s a small something that nobody asked for. Also on AO3.]

IndieSource.com

Friday, 11/13/2026

INDIESOURCE EXCLUSIVE: Interview with Cole Kolinsky

Today on the blog, IndieSource sits down with singer-songwriter Cole Kolinsky. November 14th marks the one-year anniversary of the release of his debut album, Greene Street , which launched his mainstream success in the indie scene. His first headlining tour, named for his first album, wrapped up on its final stop in his home city of Providence, RI just last week. Cole’s second album, Racing Myself , drops January 8th of next year.

IS: It’s been a big year for you, Cole! Can you tell us a little about your first tour?

CK: Oh, tour was a blast. I’m not a super well-traveled person, so getting to go all over the country playing shows was— I mean, it was a complete dream come true. I’d never really done much outside local shows, and then suddenly I’m on a tour bus traveling the country. You can’t even imagine that in your dreams.

IS: With a tour now under your belt, what’s your favorite part of being on the road?

CK: I think hands down, the best part of tour for me was all the people I got to meet. I went out to merch and met with fans after every show, and the sheer number of people who came to hear my music— it was a lot to take in. And when I talked to people, and they told me that my music had touched them in one way or another— that’s what tour was really about for me. The experience of connecting with people. It’s one thing to know people at home support you, but it’s another when you’re out on the road and you realize that what you create is reaching, like, thousands of people. It’s unreal.

IS: Greene Street was the album that really put you on the map. What would you say were some of your inspirations for it?

CK: I’d been writing music with an album in mind for years leading up to Greene Street , but I never really felt like I had anything coherent until I wrote “to: me,” my first single off the album. That was right after I actually moved onto the street the album is named after, so— [Laughs] I guess you could say that’s when it all started falling into place.

IS: You got pretty close to what you might call ‘overnight fame.’ Is there a moment you recall that it really hit you that things were happening for you in the music world?

CK: Yeah, actually, I think I do have an answer for that one. I think the first time I got recognized in public really clued me in on how big the album was getting. It was earlier this year, in Providence. I was, uh— [Laughs] I was at the grocery store with my boyfriend.

five years after (cole’s) graduation | march

Cole is tired of pretending like he doesn’t hate Whole Foods.

He gets it— Ben likes to shop here. But he will literally never understand the point of this grocery store. Aside from, he guesses, selling healthy food or whatever. The problem, in Cole’s opinion, with Whole Foods, is that you can never find anything generic there. Everything is made by super expensive, obscure, all-natural brands you’ve never heard of. You can never just, like… get milk. You have to look through all the oat milk and cashew milk and coconut milk before you can find the 100% Organic All-Natural Five-Dollar Milk.

And forget about getting normal cereal. The pickings are bleak. You can’t find an ounce of sugary, old-fashioned breakfast in the place.

Cole considers it a hate crime.

“Babe, why don’t you just get these?” Ben reaches onto the shelf, and turns around with a box of Puffins. He shakes the blue box, and raises his eyebrows pointedly. “They’re pretty good.”

Cole rubs both of his temples. “I don’t— B, I don’t want to get Puffins; they taste like fucking cardboard.” Ben is laughing at him, which just increases his cereal frustration. “I just want Trix,” he tells him, and surveys the all-natural hipster shelves in despair. “Why don’t they have Trix?”

Ben returns the Puffins to the shelf. “I don’t know that that would fit in with their brand.”

Cole lowers his voice, to avoid his shit-talking being overheard by judgey Whole Foods patrons who swear by this place. “That’s because their brand is stupid,” he hisses, and Ben laughs at him some more— or really, just chuckles, and ruffles his hair where his green beanie isn’t covering it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ben says. It’s easy to forgive him, because his choice in grocery stores may make shopping a pain in the ass, but he’s Ben, so whatever. “I’ll take you to another store, if you want.”

Cole sighs. That would be easier, but he doesn’t want to cause an issue, so he sweeps his eyes over the shelves again and wonders if he can make peace with the lack of good taste among Whole Foods cereal brand selectors. “I guess I can try one of these.”

“Okay,” Ben says, still grinning lopsidedly, and then sidles up next to him. “I’m gonna go get trail mix,” he murmurs, sliding a hand down to squeeze his. “If you can’t find something you like, it’s no biggie, okay?”

“I’ll try to,” he replies, and sighs at the shelf in what he hopes is a dramatic manner. “But only for you.”

Ben squeezes his hand again, kisses his cheek, and then walks away, taking their carriage with him as he goes. “Have fun.”

Cole watches him round the corner and leave the aisle, then stares down the shelves. The rows of health food cereal all seem the same— granola this, sugar-free that, all-natural whatever. It’s all good and fine for your average Whole Foods customer, like a yoga instructor or whatever. It’s probably even fine for Ben. It’s just… Cole is a creature of habit, and he likes eating his sugary cereal out of a mug while sitting on the counter at home before he starts his day. It helps with his creative process. And also he likes it.

Routines. They’re important.

He’s so caught up in resentfully staring at the healthy cereals that he doesn’t register when someone else walks into the aisle. He twists the sole of his Docs into the ground, and folds his arms while he studies the inventory. Organic Cinnamon Crunch Cereal looks okay, kind of like Cinnamon Toast Crunch for healthy people, but that’s not really his favorite regular cereal to eat in the first place. There are a bunch of unsweetened Cheerio knockoffs, and even more of Raisin Bran. Annie’s Organic Fruity Bunnies & Blossoms are multicolored. Could they do the trick?

He reaches for the shelf— but that’s when he sees the person in his peripheral vision. “Oh—!” There’s someone standing off his shoulder, a normal distance away, and he realizes all at once that he’s completely blocking them off from all the cereal. “Oh, shit,” he says, and looks to the person as he steps back. It’s a probably college-aged girl, with her hair dyed blue. “Uh, I’m so sorry— I didn’t, uh— I didn’t see you. Am I, uh, in your way?” He tucks his hair under his beanie, from where Ben messed it up, and becomes increasingly aware that the girl is just looking at him as he speaks. “Do you— need cereal?”

“Oh my gosh,” she says, finally, and shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. I just— um.” She takes a deep breath and adjusts the strap on her cross-body purse, and then smiles shyly and says, “Sorry, I just… I love your music?”

Oh— oh . Cole thinks his eyes probably boggle out of his head, as he realizes why this random person is looking at him in the grocery store. “Oh,” he breathes, and takes a step back. “Wait— wait, really?”

“Yeah!” The girl’s smile widens, and she fixes her purse strap again. “Sorry, I know you’re, like— trying to shop. I didn’t want to bother you. I just realized it was you, and— yeah. I’m sorry.”

“No— wait, please, uh— don’t be sorry.” His heart might pound out of his chest, and not just because he’s been caught off guard. It’s one thing to see people support your music online or on the radio, all through electronic wires. It’s another thing completely to be recognized in the fucking grocery store . Whole Foods, of all places. He tries his damndest to assume a socially functional public persona. “You don’t have to apologize at all,” he assures Blue Hair Girl. “That’s— uh, really cool? That you know my music?”

“Are you kidding?” Her grin lingers— so he guesses he isn’t acting awkward enough to scare her off. “Of course I know it.” She’s now holding onto the strap of the purse altogether. Her nails are painted black, like his are. “I first heard ‘Stay Alive’ on the radio around, uh… maybe December? I’ve followed you ever since.” She pauses a second after that, while Cole screams internally, because there is a real person standing in front of him in real life who recognized him because of his music— and then she goes, “Sorry. That sounds weird. But I just— yeah, I love your album.”

“Thank you,” he says, before she can second guess what she’s saying any more. “Thank you so much. I— uh, you have no idea how much it means to me that you said something.”

Blue Hair Girl tucks a blue strand behind her ear. “I have tickets to one of your Providence shows for the tour.”

“No way,” he laughs. This is good practice, he realizes— because only a couple months from now, he’ll be on an actual tour, the first of his life, and he’ll be meeting people on the regular who know him because of his music, and that’s, like— fucking terrifying , but he could not be more excited about it, at the same time. Blue Hair Girl, he realizes, is just the beginning. This is how life can be for him, now. “That’s amazing,” he tells her. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“I can’t wait,” she says, and then glances from side to side and grows a little more sheepish. “You, um, definitely don’t have to do this,” she begins, “but would you be okay with taking a picture with me?”

Cole is going to combust, in the middle of the grocery store. He’s about to ask her if she’s serious, but the hesitant smile on her face tells him that she definitely is serious. Which is so fucking crazy! Is this real life? He gathers his composure, and nods. “Uh, yes— yeah, definitely. Hold on. I think…” He scans the aisle, just like she did a second ago, and frowns when Ben is nowhere in sight. He did warn him that he was going to the trail mix aisle. Wherever that is. “I think my boyfriend is around here somewhere; he can take it for us,” he tells Blue Hair Girl. “I just, uh— don’t know where he went.”

“You don’t have to get him,” she replies, and lifts her phone out of her bag, turning on its front camera and flashing a thumbs-up. “We can just do a selfie.”

“Oh— right.” He rubs his own forehead. “Yeah. A selfie.” In his idiocy, he thinks he might have forgotten that selfies existed for a second. He’s the certified worst not-famous famous person ever. “Sorry,” he laughs, and hopes, when Blue Hair Girl snaps their picture and he grins awkwardly at the screen, that his face isn’t too red. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah!” She turns to him, and she’s grinning again, no longer looking sheepish. “Thank you so much,” she says, holding her phone to her chest like it’s a prize. “My girlfriend is gonna be so jealous.”

Cole laughs again, and still thinks he’s probably red in the face. He wonders if there’s something else he can do for her— and he probably can, right? “Hey, uh— what’s the date of your show?”

“October 28th,” replies Blue Hair Girl, and he catalogues that for future knowledge.

“Cool,” he says, and nods. By then, he’ll have completed his tour of the country; Providence is the last stop. He’d be lying if he said he weren’t intimidated by that thought; it’s a lot of new experience to get himself through before he winds up home again. But Blue Hair Girl makes it a little more real. With every passing day, he’s getting closer to his dream.

Actually, no. He’s already living it. As if he needed proof, a stranger in Whole Foods wants a selfie with him.

“I’ll see you there, then,” he says. She beams, and he adds, “Wait— and what’s your name?”

“Oh—” She slides her phone into her bag again. “It’s Amelia.”

Amelia— he can remember that. Providence, October 28th. He’ll do a shoutout or something. “It was nice to meet you,” he says.

“You, too!” she cries, and laughs a little; her tangible excitement just floors him even more. “I’ll leave you to your shopping,” she adds. “Thank you so much, though. For the picture. And the music.”

He fixes his beanie again. He can’t believe he made it through this interaction in one piece. Does this count as his first meet-and-greet? “You’re welcome.”

Amelia leaves the aisle on the opposite end from where Ben disappeared, and Cole takes a second to himself, to process the fact that that truly, actually did just happen to him.

Holy shit . Life is happening. Right in front of his eyes. He has an album out in the real world. He’s going on tour in less than six months. He’s getting recognized in grocery stores .

It’s only when Ben reappears— and with him, the cart, newly stocked with two bags of trail mix— that Cole realizes he’s been standing in front of the cereal and hasn’t picked out a type. “How’d it go?” Ben asks, as he walks back down the aisle to meet him. “Find something edible?”

Cole jumps onto the end of the carriage Ben isn’t pushing. “Somebody just recognized me.”

Ben raises an eyebrow, and grins halfway. “What?”

“Somebody— this girl?” He waves a pointing finger around the corner where Amelia left the aisle. “Just recognized me. She asked for a picture. She has tickets to one of the Providence shows.”

“Babe, what ?” Ben repeats, and now his smile widens, and he smacks the pushing bar on the carriage with both hands. “No fucking way!” he laughs. “Did you take the picture?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I— she was just here.” He thinks maybe he laughs a little, too. He’s reeling. He cannot fucking believe that just happened to him. “She went that way.”

“ Babe ! Holy shit!” Ben’s energy right now rivals the way he used to get about making a really good save on the Kiersey hockey team. Or maybe it’s even more than that. Cole is definitely blushing now, but with Ben, there’s never any reason to get self-conscious about that. “That’s fucking amazing!”

“I know,” Cole replies, and presses a hand against his own forehead; he can tell his face is hot. “I can’t believe that,” he says. “I feel— ha .” He barely wants to say it, because he knows it sounds weird and cocky, and you can’t really jump to conclusions about yourself when you put out one successful indie album, but fuck it. There’s a first time for everything. “I feel famous,” he tells Ben.

“Baby,” Ben replies, with the world’s prettiest smile. “I think you might be a little famous.”

Cole cannot believe that this is real life. “Yeah,” he breathes, and for the moment, that’s all he can say. “Uh, maybe a little.”

Ben walks up next to him, slings an arm around his neck, and plants one on his cheek. Cole laughs, and presses his face into Ben’s shoulder, then looks to the menacing wall of healthy cereals. He feels kind of tingly inside, like the energy is everywhere. “I, uh,” he mumbles. “I couldn’t find a cereal.”

“That’s okay,” Ben replies. He squeezes him around the shoulders before he lets go. “We’ll stop on the way home.”

Cole can’t hold back his smile. He won’t admit it to Ben, but even without the unexpected, blue-haired turn of events, that was going to be his plan all along.

#nobody asked for this #and yet here we are #my writing #mel writes #ficlet #ben/cole #actually he's cole #rhode island headass #i don't have a cole's music tag

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

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Bluegrass-Chapter Two

A special thanks to @statell for your help and wisdom

The previous chapter on AO3

Chapter Two

Claire stood still with her cell phone crushing her ear and felt dizzy suddenly from holding her breath. She forced a ragged exhale and heard Michael come back to the phone.

“The water is negative Claire. It’s not the source.”

“Jesus, thank you, Michael. I don’t know how you did it so fast, but I am in your debt. One of the grains we sampled has a shiny, sweet coating that shouldn’t be there. I trust you above all others and will gladly pay whatever you want to test that. Can you do it today?”

“Yes. I will call later with what I find. Good luck Claire.”

Claire could hear the backhoe and ran to the sound where Jamie and his men were dragging the dead horses. She grabbed his arm and smiled, asking him to turn the water on as quickly as possible and watched him run for the water main.

Claire leaned over and held her knees until the wave of nausea lessened. Fraser tugged on her sleeve with a face full of worry and motioned for her to follow. Once in his opulent office, he closed the door against the noise and offered her a chair.

“Are we ready to make a call to the FBI?” Jamie let out a long breath, “I suppose a better question is can ye stay with us until this horror can be contained, Doctor Beauchamp.”

“Many horses are still too sick to rally on their own. I won’t leave them, Mister Fraser.”

Jamie connected with the local FBI office and explained what he knew as well as the hope to keep this crime from getting to the press until they could find the source of the poison. He clicked off.

“The track closes in two hours, that is all the time we have to normalize this place. I will finish hidin the dead horses and you can start the treatments, aye?”

“Forgive me for this question Mister Fraser, but how do you stay calm in the face of this disaster, knowing there is someone out there that wants to destroy you?”

“I didna do this if that’s what yer askin lass.”

“I’m sure it will be the first direction the agents take.” Claire watched his eyes for some hint of culpability, fear, or anything to suggest he knew about this. Humans were so impossible to read and that was truly frustrating right now.

“You don’t know me and your world is in the throes of a huge disaster, but I have a request, I have to get behind you on this. That means clearing my doubts. I am so sorry, but I want to touch your shoulder and it might take a few minutes.”

Jamie’s head jerked up with raised eyebrows quickly clouding over with anger. “I havna time.”

“Fine. I have no reason or inclination to believe you based on your professed innocence. I will save your horses and answer medical questions and that is the extent of it. I’ve already told you more than enough to hide your crime, tamper with the evidence, and even finish the job when you're ready. Good day, Mister Fraser.”

Jamie shot out of his chair and got between her and the door. “It sounded ridiculous, still does, I canna see how touchin my shoulder will help but go ahead if it's so important. Please, I need yer help, please touch anythin ye want.”

Claire was tired, exhausted actually, and feeling humans was a complicated endeavor. She placed her palm on his shoulder and tried for several minutes but all she felt was static, loud and obnoxious.

“Dammit!”

Claire reached for the light switch and the office went dark. She tried again, immediately feeling something strong pulling her somewhere she didn’t want to go. Sorrow deep enough to snuff out her life was just one step away. It took all her strength to break the contact with him and she threw herself at the wall trying to find the switch plate for the lights. She took huge gulps of air and tried to get away from him, from what she felt in him.

“Thank you, and I am with you, one hundred percent Fraser.”

Claire walked quickly toward the breeding stalls to check the mares and new baby. Something had to be done about the newborn, he was desperately alone and hungry. She mixed up a bottle and coaxed him to drink it. She had most of it down him before he detached and tried to run through the walls of his stall, crying loudly. Claire looked up at Jamie standing outside the stall door. She opened the door and giggled at him as the colt ran out and pressed into him.

“Well Fraser, welcome to motherhood.”

Rupert and Angus had pulled the dead horses into a heap in an outside corner behind the facility. Lye was used to cover the smell, followed by heavy plastic secured over them. Four feet of woodchips and sawdust buried the macabre scene and they quickly parked the backhoe in its usual place.

They dragged metal rakes up and down the aisles to rid the tire tracks from the vehicles driven into the facility and medical waste was collected into black trash bags and thrown into the roll-away dumpster. As the racetrack was closing for the day, they hoped it would be enough.

Claire led the two forensic teams into the grain rooms while explaining the poisoning of the horses, when the rooms were locked down, and the water being cleared of tampering. She also mentioned the need to keep this from the public until the person was caught. The teams worked fast and were clear of the buildings in forty minutes. Claire exhaled and leaned into the wall of a grain room.

She thought about what she felt from Fraser and wanted to sob her eyes out it was so devastating. When someone pressed an ice-cold double chocolate shake against her arm she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Jesus Dustin, you scared the hell out of me! Yum…chocolate.” They rested on trunks and drank the shakes, speaking quietly about the treatments still needed and where the facility might go from here.

“It is not our mess to figure out, fortunately. When the treatments are done, we are done. Mister Fraser will figure all this out with the FBI. Look, I know you want to help but we have done all we can. Let’s finish and get out of here.”

Dusty looked at Claire like she didn’t have a heart, but he followed her to finish the treatments. He was quiet but his work was impeccable as always.

She wanted Dusty off the premises as soon as possible. If he was implicated in this horror story he would be banned from every school with a college of veterinary medicine even when he was cleared of any participation. He might think she was heartless, but she was actually protecting him.

Claire wanted to say goodbye to Fraser, but he was still sequestered in his office with FBI agents. The colt was nowhere to be found so she assumed he was pressed into Jamie inside the office. She finally knocked on his door and handed the agent a large warm bottle of milk.

Dusty had the motor running when Claire jumped into the passenger seat with a deep sigh. They were quiet for most of the trip until Dusty couldn’t hold it any longer.

“I feel terrible leaving them to fight this without our help.” Claire could see his crimson blush, so she knew it was a hard thing for him to say. She wished they had a closer relationship so she could speak freely about protecting his future.

“If you want to help them, try to figure out how someone could get all the horses to peak at the same time, or at least the same day. It boggles my mind how this could be done with the different weights, metabolic expenditures, and other factors too numerous to count. Did he do it this way so they couldn’t be saved? Or did he do it to torture?”

Dusty looked straight ahead at the road and spoke quietly, “couldn’t be saved? If there were five veterinarians in the facility when the first horse went down could they have saved him? If they had hours to think about the treatment could they have saved them? If they had two days to think and get ready could they have saved any of them?”

Claire was quiet, the answer was weighing heavily on her mind. She knew that Dusty struggled with accepting her gift, even when she had proven an exceptional perception, diagnosis, and treatment many, many times. He couldn’t explain it, nor did he believe in the supernatural, so he didn’t talk about it with her.

“Doctor Beauchamp, even a layman like me knew your mixing protocols would be unproductive if not lethal. There were only two vets with the backbone to deliver the cocktail, even after watching the miraculous recovery of the gelding.”

Dusty would not be put off by her silence. He pulled over and turned to lock into her eyes, it was time for answers.

“If you didn’t have specific information from the … horses themselves how could you know? Not answering? I’ll answer. It would mean you were the most reckless, and luckiest, person alive, or you understand them and communicate with them. Do you listen to my head too?”

“No! Stop it, Dustin! I know it’s hard to accept but I can’t hear people’s thoughts, it isn’t eavesdropping. They must want to communicate and tell me what’s happening. Do you believe me?”

Dusty pulled onto the road and there was no more talk about anything. He watched her climb the steps to her patio and disappear. He drove home wanting to climb under a rock for several days, just to feel normal again.

Claire looked at her wrinkled fingers after her twenty-minute shower. Her first look in a mirror after getting home was shocking because there was horsehair stuck to her skin under her chin. She looked like the bearded lady. Now clean, she decided to let the bluegrass pull her stress out tonight and headed for the patio to watch the sunset as her phone started ringing.

Claire approached the Information Desk at the zoo the next day to ask for the director. “Excuse me, I am meeting Bill Davis, can you tell him I’m here please?”

“Doctor Beauchamp, thank you for agreeing to come. He is right over here.”

Claire followed the zoo director to a large habitat with a twenty-foot drop to concrete around the entire thing. When she really looked at the actual land the animal was living on, it was scarcely larger than a cage. The director had misrepresented the tiger’s habit and quality of life. His describing the expanse of land the tiger lived on was exaggerated. The water for swimming was a bit larger than a birdbath. She really did not like this man after being lied to, but reminded herself she was here to save the tiger.

She was led to the prep room that attached to the tiger's domain where food was prepared, medical treatments were done, and weapons were kept for dealing with him. Claire had asked to sit where the tiger could get close to her if he wanted. When the director left, she pushed the chair away and sat on the floor. For the next hour, she sent him messages of greeting, sympathy, and desire to help each time their eyes met.

She laid down on the floor after an hour because the sun had moved in the sky and was now bathing her in warm light making her eyelids heavy. She only wanted to rest and show him a trusting posture. It would be an hour before her eyes opened again, giving the animal ample time to smell her and get comfortable with her presence. Claire felt the heat from the tiger but no fear and rose slowly so she didn’t startle him. This huge beautiful cat was only two feet from her laying with his back to her. Steel bars eight inches apart is all that separated them.

“Will you let me help you?” Her voice was almost a whisper. “Will you let me touch you? You are magnificent and beautiful.” She said each word while holding its meaning in her mind. “Why have you stopped eating? If you die the world will be without your beauty and spirit.” He pushed back into the bars and Claire touched his back. Thanking him and asking how she could help him.

Images filled her mind of him, another full-sized tiger, and babies, three of them. Like a slide show, she saw the affection they had for each other, playing in the sunlight, cuddling at night. The images continued until she asked him who they were. The images continued but now it was just him, and Claire’s happy heart rate slowed, making her feel miserable.

The zoo director had walked through the park grabbing handlers to come and see the tiger whisperer. He lied to them about watching someone with a gift that let her talk to animals. A reporter slipped into the group as they walked toward the tiger enclosure with the cameraman slipping in just before they entered the prep room. The director purposely pushed the door with enough force to make it crash into Claire’s special energy with the tiger, who then bolted. The cameraman had used a long-range lens to capture ten minutes of calm interaction between Claire and the tiger with several minutes of close up on her hands that were deep in his fur and their faces, both calm and serene.

She looked back with a flash of anger at the noisy interruption and noticed the camera that was trained on her. Most of the people had zoo uniforms on, except a lady who was now firing obnoxious questions about talking to animals. It finally hit Claire that this was a setup, but for what? She looked out at the tiger and saw his sudden distrust. She was furious. Pulling herself up to her feet she walked to the director, making it clear she was plenty pissed. The handlers moved away leaving him vulnerable as Claire approached looking like she would disembowel the lying piece of shit.

“What did you do with them?” She was an inch from his face, channeling the tiger's hatred of him. He leaned away from her acting like she was crazy telling people to call security. Claire had never felt this level of hatred, she wanted to tear him apart and pushed him into the wall savagely yelling her question again. “Where are they, his wife and babies, what did you do with them!”

The reporter asked more respectfully this time, wanting Claire to explain her question to him.

“A male, a female, and three babies lived here, as you shot him with a tranquilizer, he had to watch you shoot the others. One of the darts missed and stuck in wood over there. He watched you crate them up and remove them. Where are they!?”

The director seemed to have a shift in his energy and smiled wickedly at her while he straightened his posture and prepared to annihilate her for the news crew. He was being paid handsomely for this video that would expose her as a fraud. Piece of cake he thought.

“Clearly you are a fraud. There has never been more than that one tiger. You made the whole thing up. What a pity I was taken in by your lies about hearing the animals.”

He was feeling smug, calculating the trip he would take on the money this was earning him and he could hardly wait to be free of this disgusting place.

“Where are they?”

When the director saw security coming, he closed in on Claire wanting to shame her for the cameras. She cut him off with the question that finally brought a man in the back to his senses. “Why was he moved to this awful, tiny enclosure? Why did you take his pool away? Why did you change to the food he can’t stand? Why are you torturing him?

Claire was crying now because she spoke the emotions the tiger made her feel.

“You are insane. Babbling questions and threatening me. For the last time, there were no other tigers with him, and no one shot them with tranquilizers.”

“I did, on your order.” The man from the rear pushed forward so the director could see him. He went white in the face at the betrayal of his top handler.

Claire leveled her eyes on the director, “I will campaign from one side of Kentucky to the other until you get these tigers back and return him to the enclosure that was built for them.”

The senior handler who admitted to shooting the tigers pulled Claire away from the group who were now targeting the director with questions. He pulled her to the outside and walked right past security in the direction of the parking lot.

“I don’t know how you knew all that, but you were dead on with all of it, even the shot that missed. I’ve never been right with what he did and made me a part of, maybe I can help you fix this.”

Claire stopped abruptly and turned to the handler. “The director lied about everything to get me here today and I will deal with that, but please help the tiger. Find his family and give him meat again. And thank you for helping me in there.” She knew Dusty would be in front of her home waiting for her and she called for him to pick her up. She clicked off and took a deep breath before turning around to look back.

“Oh, you startled me, I have a ride coming so no need to wait with me.” The handler reminded her of Sam Elliot in looks and temperament. He really saved her today and she was grateful.

“That’s alright, humor an old man. And don’t you worry about the tiger, I’ll find his family.”

They chatted until she heard the low growl of her truck and wondered how to explain all this to Dusty.

Dusty picked up on her weird energy right away and wondered when they would get back to normal.

“When did you start treating the exotics Doctor B?”

“Someone lured me here today with lies about a sick tiger. The director asked me to comfort him then brought a news crew and a group of handlers to be disruptive and ask a bunch of questions. He tried to say I was crazy and lied about animal communication, but I learned enough from the tiger to …”

Dusty pulled to the side of the road and just stared at her. “Doctor B I feel like our well-ordered lives are coming apart. Why is this happening and are you alright?”

“Yes. I am not hurt. Whatever the director’s intentions were, one of the older handlers corroborated everything the tiger said.”

Dusty looked up at the woman he respected most in the world, “tigers can’t talk Claire. Just tell me one thing, do you think this is related to Highland Brothers and what happened yesterday?”

“There is no question in my mind.”

They both seemed to slip into autopilot to get through the afternoon. Dusty grabbed Claire’s keys out of her hand and bolted up the stairs to her home. Claire was really shocked by his behavior and found him going room to room making sure no one was there.

“See ya tomorrow Doctor B.”

Once she could sit quietly, alone on her patio, all the particulars of the day came back to mind. She pieced it all together and shot off her chair to turn the news on. She clicked through the local news channels for almost an hour, happy she was wrong until she heard her name and slowly raised her head. She watched the video of her and the tiger, taken covertly without her permission. Next was her shouting at the zoo director and the handler coming forward. The news anchor was in voice-over asking for anyone with information about the kidnapped tigers to call the station.

Claire sat stunned on her rocking chair trying to decide if this was a good thing or something that would hurt her career. If she had to defend herself against any allegations of misrepresentation it would hurt Dustin. She felt a tear roll out of her eye and wished again she had allowed a closer friendship with Dustin. Then he would understand why she had to fire him.

Claire had never considered her life without Dustin. She came to Kentucky after graduation to work with racehorses and he was the first person who showed up for an interview. He was spit-shined and creased and could hardly answer the questions with the layers of respect and polite behavior she was getting. She liked him from the start and after a long walk in the woods where he calmed down enough to converse with her, she hired him, and they became the dynamic duo. His trust in her staggered the mind. It was more than blind obedience, he trusted her diagnosis and jumped to execute her treatments, no matter how crazy they were. After all that devotion she would cut him loose tomorrow, to save him.

Jamie closed his office door feeling complete relief the FBI agents were finished with the questioning, lie detectors, fingerprinting, and hours of pictures he was asked to view, looking for someone who worked for him. He was completely exhausted when he turned around heading for his overstuffed chair banging into the colt that never left his side.

“Jesus lad, do ye have to be up my butt all the time?”

The colt pressed harder against him feeling insecure. This poor baby was three days old thinking he had a Scottish mother built like a linebacker with a terrible temper.

“It’s alright laddie, I love ye. Once a mare drops ye’ll become a twin with no one the wiser. Things will be easier for ye then.” His warm hand stroked the colt while his low voice was soothing the nervousness. “I am ready to get drunk and sleep for two days, will ye be good for yer temporary mam Angus?”

Jamie pointed the remote at the television and offered the colt a bottle as he relaxed into his chair. He was busy with a fussy colt when Claire’s face filled the screen and he almost missed it, looking back just in time to see her attack a man, shouting questions at him. His heart almost stopped as he scrambled to call the newsroom asking where the broadcast could be viewed on the internet. Thirty minutes later he struggled to make the call he promised to make.

Jamie called the agent in charge of his case and told him what happened. It was obviously connected to what happened to the horses. Claire was lured to the zoo to treat a sick tiger and then ambushed and filmed so she would lose her credibility to testify on his behalf. He slammed the phone and called Doctor Beauchamp from his cell.

Claire tossed and turned for an hour. When her cell phone rang, she was almost relieved to have an excuse to get up. She looked at Jamie’s name and answered.

“That was quite a broadcast tonight Doctor Beauchamp. Is that how ye healed my horses so fast? They told ye what was wrong did they”

“Something like that.”

“I have to be honest Sassenach, I don’t believe it, but I do believe it was a setup at the zoo to discredit you and that means the man responsible has surfaced, in a way. I had to let the FBI know about this Claire, but I wanted to warn you they are coming.”

“What? Do they think I had something to do with this and why do you call me that?"

“No, I’m sure they don’t. They just want to find a link back to the killer. It won’t take long.”

Claire waited for the rest of his answer.

"Because yer British with a strong accent. It means outsider, not in a bad way, you just are."

Claire looked up at the flashing red light on her ceiling and nearly jumped out of her skin from the banging on her door. She had just enough time to dress after Fraser’s call and suddenly felt terrified. She waited, hoping they would leave. The knocking got harder and Claire willed them away. Her door flew open with splintering wood raining down on her while big men in riot gear ran in and pushed her to the ground. Claire was crying as someone’s knee pressed her face into the wood floor and snapped handcuffs on her wrists. She cried Dusty’s name into the floor before they yanked her to her feet. She could see her door hanging from the one remaining hinge as they drove away.

For the rest of the night, they brutalized her with continuous questioning. The interrogators would be replaced with fresh agents that would continue the questioning forcing her to wake up and withholding water when she begged for it. When she passed out from exhaustion, they threw her into a cell and left her there in solitary confinement. She was not given food, or water, and saw not a single person. She had never been so scared in her life.

Jamie looked up at the clock and dialed Claire again. She had not answered all day and it was three in the afternoon. Before he clicked off his door swung open banging into the wall so a stone-faced Dusty could walk to Jamie’s desk. He held out his cell phone to Jamie and played the video he took of Claire’s shattered front door.

“Where is she, Mister Fraser? What have you done with her?”

Jamie glanced at the video. “Sweet Jesus.”

Dusty lowered his eyes to Jamie’s with a murderous look.

“I know nothin of this lad, but we are leavin now to find her. Let’s go.”

Jamie whistled for his men while he threw a rope around the colt’s neck handing it to Rupert before he ran to catch up with Dusty. He jumped in the truck giving instructions to the FBI building in a nearby town. It took an hour to get there and Dusty was coming apart at the seams. When he wouldn’t respond to Jamie he was held down into his seat by powerful arms and an angry face an inch from his.

“Listen, lad!” Jamie growled. “She is in that building but if you go in there half-cocked it may be days before we get her. Understand? Do not talk. Sit where they tell ye and let me get her.”

Two hours later, Claire felt warm arms lift her off the concrete floor. Her teeth chattered from the fifty-degree cell and she moaned from her cracked lips. Dusty walked desk to desk writing the names of the agents who took two hours to find her until every agent was concealing their concern with anger.

Jamie held Claire against his warmth and climbed the stairs seeing Dusty’s eyes go wide. “Let's go lad. She needs to warm up quick as possible, drive to the forty-five and go East back to the compound.” Jamie watched the stone-faced lad carry out each request like a robot and his heart broke for him. Jamie pointed all the heat vents at Claire in his lap. Her teeth stopped chattering and she wrapped her arms around Jamie pulling his heat closer. She was desperate for warmth and couldn’t know what she was doing but Jamie felt the invasive movement like a jolt of lightning. He held her close and Dusty stared straight ahead not saying a word.

Jamie pointed the way to his house that was set back, deep in a bordering meadow. The house was large with lots of extra bedrooms. Claire was covered with quilts and drained every cup of water offered. Jamie told her the short version of Dusty crashing into his office demanding to know where she was. She smiled at Dusty then winced at the pain of her cracked lips. Her door was closed, and the house went dark and quiet. The only movement was Dusty who made it back to her room to check on her. It appeared the whole bed was shaking making him fear for her.

Jamie was pulled out of sleep by the knocking on his bedroom door. He opened the door to Dusty, eyes downcast and asking for his help. Jamie felt for the boy and promised to cover her with more blankets.

“Go to bed lad. I’ll take care of it.”

Jamie slid into the bed behind Claire and pulled her against his chest. His legs pushed into her from behind and his arms wrapped around her.

“No need to fret, lass. This is the fastest way to warm up and I owe ye this and much more for what ye endured.”

It took some time, but she finally stopped shaking. Deep in the night, Jamie woke to her crying. He pulled her close and stroked her cold arm until she was asleep again.

Before dawn, Claire was jolted awake by a big hand moving down her hip and thigh. Once she remembered where she was the pleasure of that hand took control and silenced her as she gave in to the exquisite feeling. Anywhere he touched her sent electric currents in both directions until his body went rigid as he jerked awake. Claire was awake, but she was a dead ringer for a woman in deep sleep.

Jamie was horrified when he woke up to his traitorous hands molesting a woman he hardly knew, with her lovesick assistant in the next room, and his fiancé on a plane over the Pacific coming home. He was so freaked out he jumped out of bed and shot back to his own room.

“Christ. I must be losin my mind.” Jamie showered and dressed for another grueling day, passing Dusty’s empty room on his way out. The bed was neatly made, and the room was possibly cleaner than it was before the kid closed himself into it. Seeing a note on the bed he pushed it under Claire’s door. Dusty left early to fix her door, he would come and get her when she called.

Jamie looked to the sun rising as he drove a back road to the compound. He found it amusing he even noticed the sun this morning. It’s those two, he thought, like they both stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting when people were presumed good and godly, and followed a moral code, prayed for each other, and waved to everyone they saw. He chuckled at the thought. In his mind, Jamie watched Claire place her hands on the gelding’s face with so much compassion in her eyes it almost made him cry. His eyes slammed open and he skidded to a stop on the dirt road.

“Holy Christ. Right after that, she told the kid what to mix up and the gelding seemed cured right before my eyes. This is what happens when insanity sets in. Ye believe in miracles and talk to ye’self on the way to work.”

Jamie dropped the truck into gear and barreled toward the compound looking straight ahead like he had blinders on. He was so tense walking into the building he almost exploded when Angus came around the corner and said good morning.

“Jamie boy what’s got ye so amped up this morning?” Angus was smiling his toothless grin. “The agents are waitin for ye.”

“Come with me please, I need a witness. Where is Rupert?”

“Havin a wee talk with yer son who refuses to drink his milk this mornin.”

Jamie shook his head at Angus’s reference and turned the other direction.

“Fuck them, they can wait.”

Angus knew enough not to ask but stayed close to Jamie hoping he might slip up and explain what was bothering him today. As if the attempted murder of all the horses wasn’t enough. Angus and Rupert figured out what Jamie had yet to speak of. The barn was only a third full when the horses started getting sick. The rest were running that day or were boarded with their trainer during the racing season. Later in the day, the horses that were coming back from the track seemed perfectly healthy. The thirty-eight horses that were sick or dead were owned in part, or in full, by Jamie.

Jamie stroked the colt as he finished the bottle of milk and thought about the sadistic FBI agents who tortured an innocent, locking her in a room with no cot, and no chair, just very cold concrete. He felt anger so deep it made his hands shake and the colt abandoned his milk to push his head into Jamie’s stomach looking for comfort. Jamie exhaled his stress and tried to relax. They may not have broken any laws keeping her under those conditions, but they certainly broke his trust and confidence in the FBI. “Highland justice will be comin for ye lads.”

Claire opened her eyes and stretched in the most luxurious sheets. A note from Jamie told her to use his shower and eat all she wanted from the kitchen. She giggled and decided the forty-minute ride for Dustin to get there gave her plenty of time to enjoy a bit more of this luxury.

Standing under the hot water was heaven and she looked through the bottles of body wash and shampoo of which there were many, only finding one for men. So, Mister Fraser has a woman, I wonder where she is, she thought. The bathroom filled with hot steam and lovely scents as she pushed the door open and reached for a towel. Drying off her face and eyes she opened them wide to see a woman standing four feet in front her looking very like a raging bull.

“Who…the fuck…are you!”

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yuthoe · 4 years

Text

Schedule Changes (PENTAGON: Adachi Yuto)

HELLO, IT’S 12:48AM AND I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF.

I had to churn this out because it won’t leave my head. I’d like to thank my irl friend @shiiiiiiiiinwun for inspiring me to write this collection (yes, I’m gonna be doing one for all of ot9). And for someone who’s been watching anime since she figured out how to use the internet, you’d think I could’ve come up with better names, and faster.

EDIT (06/29/20): Hi! it’s my first time making an edit like this, so i’m kinda insecure abt it lol, i hope it’s okay. this is the 2nd yuto version i did, so it’s slightly better than the first one. tumblr rlly doesn’t want us to go overboard on image size huh

WARNINGS: n/a; some angst, maybe? who’s proofreading idk her. WORD COUNT: 3,314 it’s so fucking long.

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Minister Sakaguchi,

Unfortunately, Her Majesty will not be available for your meeting today at 3PM; urgent matters have arisen that need her immediate attention. If you would like to reschedule with her, please reply to this email.

Thank you very much for understanding.

Regards,

Y/N L/N

Secretary to the Queen

You sigh, wondering if the email you’ve typed is in the appropriate tone that won’t offend Minister Sakaguchi; in all the years you’ve been working for the royal family it doesn’t get easier writing and replying to the emails of government officials, invitations to interview Her Majesty for magazine features, requests to attend public functions like galas and balls. The ridiculous amount of mail she gets, that are automatically forwarded to you, is mind-boggling, in anyone else’s eyes. It doesn’t surprise you anymore, though.

The queen as a monarch takes the backseat to running the kingdom, to any foreigner that decides to take a look at articles from international news sources. Her name isn’t mentioned as much as the king’s when it comes to referencing big developments in the state. Rather, the local newspapers and online sites have her name and face on some article at least once a week. The queen takes care of the little things, smaller projects that delve more into social welfare than her husband’s institutional programs. She is a strong advocate for women’s and children’s rights, as well as a figure in health outreach programs for the poorer sectors of society. Her compassion and dedication to her job is what made you want to work for her; she was like a role model to you, along with her husband.

It was a stroke of pure luck that got you this job; your first day as the secretary for Minister Yamazaki turned into you being his substitute with only a day’s notice. He had gotten sick with the flu and you were immediately thrust into a role you knew almost nothing about. So you took all the files related to the subject of the meeting and studied up on them the night before, turning up the next day and pulling out opinions as if you yourself spearheaded the project. The queen, upon finding out that you were new, was so impressed and had talked to Minister Yamazaki (who was still in his sickbed) over the phone about enlisting you under her employ.

It’s been five years since then. Five fast-paced, fulfilling, exciting years working closely with the royal family. At this point, your relationship with the queen is more of a friendship than strictly professional, and you’re grateful for it. The people you interact with on a daily basis are mostly considerably older than you--ministers, program leaders, the palace staff--and the talk is all business. So you’re grateful for your weekend teatime with the queen, sometimes with her children joining you, who are some of the only people your age you talk to on a regular basis, apart from the younger maids and kitchen staff. The afternoons out in the garden are the queen’s time to unwind and review everything that happened the previous week, as well as scheduling the succeeding weeks. The stress of planning therefore comes to a head on Saturdays so the week can sail by calmly.

Today is one of those Saturdays. Minister Sakaguchi had scheduled a dinner meeting with the queen yesterday--something about the upcoming fair for disenfranchised women, although you suspect Minister Sakiguchi will try to sneak in pitches for other programs she has in mind. The queen had agreed, so you penciled in the meeting into your schedule. However, the queen seemed under the weather when she came out earlier, that you had advised her to cancel it, assuring her that Minister Sakiguchi would understand.

The queen takes a sip of her favorite rosehip and lemon tea, fingers delicate on the porcelain, and you send the email, huffing out a sigh. You place your phone facedown on the glass table and take a sugar cookie from the plate. “Just sent the email, Your Majesty,” you say. “Now you can just focus on resting tonight.” You smile as you take a bite.

Your boss smiles as she replaces the teacup on its saucer. “Thank you,” she says, relaxing against the lounge chair. “To be honest, I didn’t think Minister Sakiguchi would talk so much about the fair anyway. She probably suggested a meeting to tell me more of her ideas for the women’s sector.” You smile. Bingo. “Is anything else scheduled for tomorrow?”

You glance at your open laptop, as well as the printed-out spreadsheet on your lap. It’s an organized mess of colors and times and places and people. “Just the charity gala tomorrow night. I’ve coordinated with Subaru and she said the king will be late by an hour. Will you go alone?”

She tilts her head in thought and hums. “I don’t want to be late. Is there anyone available?”

You click through the several pinned tabs on your laptop to the tab for the royal family’s shared schedule. “It seems Princess Akari is free, as well as Prince Yuto,” you say after a moment.

“Ah, Akari will be busy designing something for the fair, I think, so maybe she won’t want to go,” the queen muses.

“So you’ll just take the prince, then? I’ll contact Daiki and ask him to notify the prince.”

“No need,” a deep, disembodied voice comes in from somewhere in the hedges before Prince Yuto pops his head into view. He walks towards the table as you clear up a space for him, closing your binder and putting that on top of the clipboard among other printouts on one of the spare chairs between you and the queen.

The prince strides across the grass in his black dress pants and long-sleeved shirt, to greet his mother. He places his hands softly on her shoulders and leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek. The queen smiles and accepts the kiss, patting a hand over one of his; her mood instantly lifts, and her posture relaxes further. As the youngest son, she dotes on him a lot; he in turn always keeps his mother company and can rarely be seen in public not by her side or his father’s. You think their relationship is sweet, and so do the many news articles posted online about it.

Prince Yuto takes a seat on the only empty chair and fixes himself a cup of tea while saying, “What’s the gala for?”

“The orphanages in the farther provinces,” the queen says as she takes a saucer and stacks it high with dark chocolate-coated cookies, pushing the small plate at her son’s direction. “Some dignitaries from other kingdoms as well as celebrities will be attending. And I will announce the new scholarship program for our state schools. There’s a chance your father won’t make it, so I’d like a companion.”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Mother,” Prince Yuto says after swallowing a bite of cookie. He turns to you. “What time is it?”

“Call time for the royals and major government officials is 7PM, and the program starts at 7:30. I’ll contact Daiki with the details as well,” you say.

The prince shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns to the queen. “It’s such a shame, I thought you two were talking about Y/N transferring to my office,” he jokes. It’s a bit that he’s brought up many times before, and both you and the queen take it as a joke since you figure he just wants someone closer to his age with more experience than Daiki, who is about four years older and has only been working with him for two years.

The queen lets out a laugh and takes her teacup again. “What’s the matter with Daiki? He seems to be doing a good job.” Her eyes meet yours as she takes another sip, glinting in amusement.

Prince Yuto is smiling his bright, beautiful smile that the camera loves as he looks fondly at his mother. He probably got wind of her feeling run-down and hurried here to try to distract her. You know the queen is the most important person to him, and the queen may not know it, but it’s obvious to everyone else. “Well, as you know, Y/N is better,” he continues, “and Daiki-san is a stick-in-the-mud.” The teasing makes you huff out a laugh, immediately raising a hand to cover your mouth; Daiki is truly a stick-in-the-mud, even more than you are.

The queen laughs boisterously, throwing her head back. “Oh, you’re such a jokester, Yuto.” She sighs, fully relieved, and you’re thankful he decided to stop by. The queen finishes her tea and says, “Well, this was a fun teatime. I have some paperwork I have to sign, so Y/N, you may go.” She turns to her son. “It’s so nice of you to stop by, sweetheart,” she says, and leans down to drop a kiss on the crown of his head. “I’ll be seeing you both.” The queen glides away, and you briefly wonder how she can walk that gracefully in heels over damp, unpaved grass--but then you remember she’s the queen and has been doing this for years. She turns around the corner of the hedge and disappears.

You sigh and shut down your laptop, gathering your stuff as you message Daiki about the charity gala. You slide the laptop in your bag, and put all the printouts in order into a folder, before slipping everything else inside. You’re just about to get up to leave before Prince Yuto’s voice stops you.

“You sure you won’t consider transferring to my office?” you hear the prince suddenly ask. He’s looking at you, piercing eyes that make everyone in the kingdom, young and old, swoon. And if you didn’t talk to him everyday and your self-control had been any less, you would probably give in to whatever he wanted.

So you try to mask your rapidly beating heart behind a fond, teasing smile. “Well, I don’t really have a say in it. Don’t think the queen wants to let me go, anyway,” you say, taking a proffered dark chocolate-covered cookie from the prince and biting into it. The rich, slightly bitter punch of the chocolate explodes on your tongue.

The prince looks at you with a small smile. “I was serious, you know,” he says simply. “I mean, you won’t be as busy so you’ll have more free time, and the stuff I do is just small, as a minister for cultural arts. I split it with another person.”

You’re already shaking your head. “I like my job. I love working for the queen and seeing the results of what she’s done. You know she’s been my role model since I was a teenager, so this is a dream for me. And as much as I want a break sometimes, I can’t let this opportunity go.” You sigh, heart heavy now, and stand. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

He stands with you. “I know I’ve told you to call me just ‘Yuto’ before, didn’t I?”

“But decorum--,”

“Yeah, fine, practice etiquette in public, but when we’re alone you can just call me by my name.” You don’t answer, and hesitantly purse your lips. And then the prince begins to pout. “Come on, if you don’t wanna work for me, at least call me Yuto.” He presses the tips of his index fingers together and says, “I miss you,” so cutely, with his big puppy dog eyes and hilariously deep voice that’s sorely out of place for the cutesy thing he’s trying to do.

You have to laugh, bending down at the waist and steadying yourself with the table as you cackle. “Fine, fine,” you relent. “I’ll call you Yuto in private from now on.” You heave your heavy bag up onto your shoulder with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

***

“You look beautiful tonight,” someone says behind you. You turn carefully, eyes meeting Yuto, in another black ensemble: turtleneck under an overcoat with black dress pants and boots. His hair is slicked back artfully, apart from the stray locks of hair that insist on falling over his eyes. Simple, but very handsome; the paparazzi and journalists must be having a field day with that outfit.

And you look down at yourself: standard black satin-and-chiffon off-shoulder gown that you usually wear to these types of stuff. Your shoes are your everyday pair, and you’re thankful that the dress comes all the way to the floor because they are getting scuffed at the tip. Your hair is wavy, the result of sleeping in a braid through twelve hours, but you manage to tame it into a loose bun that’s mostly out of your face. The only accessory you have is the necklace you’ve worn since your mother passed down to you six or seven years ago. Makeup is minimal because you are here to assist, not be the center of attention. Everything you put into your appearance tonight is just to make sure you look clean and professional. And invisible.

You roll your eyes at the prince. “Your Highness, I look like this everytime the queen needs to go somewhere fancy. I don’t think ‘beautiful’ is the right word.” You know he means well, but you’re just plain, from your shoes to your face to your position in society, you’re just simple, unremarkable.

The prince furrows his brows and takes his place standing beside you. “You are, though. You may not see it, but I do.” He casts you a quick glance before turning his focus to the stage, where a popular singer is performing one of her new songs onstage as an opening act. “And those photographers over there see it, too.”

You whip your head at him before scanning the event hall for any cameras pointed at you, heart pounding hard in your chest. You don’t spot any, but you still say, “I think you had better take your seat, Your Highness. I bet those people just want to make a scandal out of nothing.” Prince Yuto may be the youngest out of the royal children, but that does not mean he is risk-free. He is being trained for the position of Minister of Culture and the Arts; he has a large following of young people who look up to him as a leader and as a person; he is one of the most important people in your life, and you can’t bear for anything bad to happen to him.

The work tablet you brought is getting crushed in your folded arms from how tight you’re clutching it. “I’m going to find Daiki--,” you say softly, making to leave, but getting stopped once again by the prince.

He’s holding one of your arms gently, but strong enough to pull you back beside him. “It’s okay,” he says. “Let them. It’s fine.”

You pull your arm away. “Your Highness, it’s not fine. You can’t risk a scandal blowing up on you right now. Everyone has eyes on you, even if you don’t think so.” You’re worried. The last thing you want is for him to get in trouble because of you.

The prince sighs. “Y/N, there’s not gonna be a scandal if we’re actually together.”

You take a moment to think. “What? You want us to pretend to be a couple? I don’t think it’s a good idea; people might get the misconception that you’re slacking off, or--,”

“No, I mean--,” he sighs frustrated, more at himself than at you, but he keeps his composure and his face remains stoic; you both are still in public, after all. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now, but I just didn’t know how to say it, and I certainly didn’t plan on telling you at a charity event where hundreds of people could hear.” He’s rambling--a sign that he’s nervous, unprepared.

Prince Yuto takes a calming breath before fully facing you. “I like you, Y/N,” he says softly, aware of the number of ears that are possibly listening in. “I’ve liked you since the day you started working for my mom, and I liked you even more the longer you stayed. You’re a hard worker, you’re dedicated to your job, you genuinely care for the queen and the things she does for the people. And I’m thankful that I got close to you as much as I have because you do mean a lot to me. I know I don’t show it, because I’m not sure how to show it, and I don’t know how you would react to it. But I do like you. Very much.” He releases a breath and looks you in the eye. “So will you try? To be with me?”

All this you take in with wide eyes and a shocked-open mouth. You know the prince is not the most outgoing person; he’s most relaxed when he is with people he knows, which are limited to his family and their secretaries, along with some of the senior palace staff. You’ve never seen him in a pickle of trying to get someone’s attention, but you do remember him offering to carry your heavy work back once or twice and you insisting on carrying yourself; him telling you that you look beautiful even if you wear the same plain things all the time; him giving you a box of (really expensive) chocolate for Valentine’s Day on the excuse of “I gave all the royal family’s employees chocolates”; him giving you a piece of his favorite chocolate cookies, even though you’ve never seen him offer them to anyone else.

All this time he’s been telling you how he feels and you’ve never noticed. And you yourself can’t even tell him the same because you don’t want to risk the prince getting hurt, you getting hurt, the queen getting hurt because of your selfishness. Your work is important to you, and you can’t jeopardize it for your happiness.

But here he is, Prince Yuto. Being brave enough to know the uncertainty of what lies ahead and being prepared to face it, if you answer him; if you push aside your fear of messing up and tell him you like him back; if, for once, you look to your heart instead of thinking of your work.

He stands tall beside you, an imposing figure of grace and compassion. A man people look up to. A leader who is innovative, yet respects traditions. A role model for young people who are inspired by his music, his acts of service to everyone. A son that is loved by his parents, a brother that is loved by his siblings. A friend who listens and is always there, but always pushes you out of your comfort zone.

How can you not fall for him?

How can you say no, when everything around you points to yes?

You’re nodding your head before you know it, still too shocked to properly process the last five minutes. “Yes. Yes, I’ll try being with you.”

The blinding smile is back, and you can’t help but return it. The prince nods, unable to suppress the grin on his face and gestures to the audience, milling about finding their tables. “I’ll be on my way, then. Find my mother.” He clears his throat, fidgets about with his coat and pockets. “Good luck for the rest of the night,” he says with a nod, before leaving.

You just curtsy, still beaming and your heart is drumming in your chest like crazy, but it feels light. Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and you can take flight at any moment, straight into his arms.

#pentagon #pentagon yuto #adachi yuto #pentagon adachi yuto #pentagon yuto scenario #adachi yuto scenario #pentagon scenarios #pentagon imagine #universe net #uninet #fic: mine #fic: not spicy #fic: yuto

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theeharrypott · 3 years

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Bespoke Wallpaper

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bensakindofmagic · 5 years

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Chapter Two

A/N: the response to the first chapter has been insane, i’m blown away thank you. no warnings for this one - just enjoy!

w/c: 3.1k+

(gif creds to @.mrbenhardys)

A couple of weeks into the project and you were still in the rehearsal stage for Live Aid. You were grateful for the later mornings, as you didn’t have to make sure the boys were in hair and makeup by 6am just yet. The shoot stared in less than two weeks and everyone felt the pressure ramping up. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Brian May and Roger Taylor were coming to set that day to see how it was all going and offer up a little of their considerable wisdom. It wasn’t the first time they’d been, and you had briefly spoken to them before, but did little more than introduce yourself before they were called away to more important business. It had still given you nervous jitters that morning to think you’d be within a few feet of them.

Rehearsals seemed to be going well; the guys had bonded a lot over the past weeks which filtered into their performance. When they are all jamming together they really felt like a band. You allowed yourself a smug smile, knowing that you had a small hand in that. You’d been hanging out together most evenings since your game, going to a local pub, chilling in someone’s trailer watching Queen documentaries that you’d all seen a hundred times before, or just chatting, getting to know each other better. All four of them were sweet and charming and funny, and you felt yourself getting more and more comfortable around them. You felt relaxed, which in turn led to you opening up to them, perhaps a little too much; you had a tendency to overshare sometimes. But it didn’t seem to bother them much, apart from maybe Ben who seemed to tense up and shift in his seat when you said anything too personal. He’d just have to get used to you.

You contemplated him as he played. You watched the way he frowned when he concentrated, lips silently counting the beats. You watched him bounce on his seat between run throughs, and twirl the drumsticks lazily between his fingers.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Brian said with a knowing smile. When he saw confusion flash across your face he clarified, “Ben. He’s very good.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I think so.”

“Attractive, too. I can see why Roger was so chuffed with the casting,” he chuckled.

You surrendered to the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Oh I’m sure.”

“I heard that,” Roger said little grumpily.

“What, he’s much better looking than you ever were.”

“Unbelievable! Do you agree with this?” Roger asked, turning to you.

“Uh” you said with a giggle, “can I plead the fifth?”

He grumbled and you and Brian laughed. You had to stop and take a breath to make yourself realise that you had just shared a joke with two members of Queen.

Watching everyone work was kind of mind-boggling. Everyone was so focused that they didn’t stop to look at where they were, but the scene in front of you was incredible. People everywhere were fussing over something, making sure every wire and prop was in place. Joe and Gwil were jamming quietly together, probably going over some riff, Ben and Roger were unsurprisingly tinkering with the drum kit as Brian chatted animatedly with one of the ADs. The whole stage seemed to be in motion, oscillating with potential. As you watched it all pass before your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the absolute insanity of your job, a feeling of satisfaction and excitement welled up inside you. You could feel the anticipation of what this job would bring, how it would affect your life and how you would be changed by it. You couldn’t say why, but you knew in your soul how important this job would be.

It went in a blur — the rest of the day, the week, the whole rehearsal period — and before you knew it you were due to start filming. Everyday felt like a joy. It was hard work, and every night you fell into bed, exhausted, but not before spending an hour or two with your favourite boys. You’d all become close, you was starting to feel like a little family. You and Ben in particular were getting close, the constant teasing between you becoming second nature. On this particular evening, just a few days out from starting the shoot, you were all crammed Rami’s trailer (his was the biggest), relaxing after a long day.

“You know I really think we nailed it today guys,” Joe said enthusiastically.

“Yeah except when Gwil tripped over his own guitar cable,” you giggled.

“Oh come on guys,” he groaned, “we all had a big laugh about this earlier, can we move on please?”

“It was look on your face though mate. Priceless.”

“I’ve never seen such raw panic is someone’s eyes,” you teased.

“What about the day you met me?” Ben shot at you, all confidence. “I think I got you pretty flustered.”

“Oh babe, that wasn’t panic in my eyes,” you retorted with a wink, leaving the rest to his imagination. You were disinclined to let on that you had been wandering what he looked like naked the first time you met.

The five of you joked around aimlessly, only interrupted by Gwil’s phone ringing. He explained that it was his girlfriend and stepped outside to take the call. You noticed a sadness flash across Ben’s eyes, one that had infused their bright green with a hint of grey a few times over the last week. You figured it must have made him think of his own girlfriend, and he was probably missing her. You had made the decision weeks ago that you were objectively not allowed to fancy Ben, so any flare of acidic jealousy in your stomach at that thought was steadfastly ignored.

Thinking you’d give him the opportunity to talk about it if he wanted to, you lightly asked, “How’s your girlfriend Ben? Must be tough on you both, doing such long shoots.”

An awkward hush fell over the room, and Joe and Rami looked at you with shock and horror painted across their features. You had clearly said something wrong.

After a long, tense moment, Ben quietly said, “Actually we broke up.”

A longing kind of melancholy set over him; he hunched his shoulders and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He looked wretched and you felt awful.

“Oh my god Ben, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” It dawned on you then that the others clearly knew, and no one had told you.

“It’s okay, it’s for the best, you know. I broke up with her.”

A plethora of questions and concerns raced through your brain. You resolutely battered away the ones that had anything to do with him now being available.

You settled with, “What happened?” quickly mitigated with, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. It’d been coming for a while I think, our lives just didn’t fit together anymore.”

Joe scoffed, “Oh come on, it’s because you have feelings for someone else.”

His eyes instantly Ben wide and you thought you saw him glance at you for a second. He quickly hissed, “What the fuck, Joe?”

Joe looked sheepish and went quiet. You looked back and forth between them, confused and a little hurt. How had they not told you about any of this?

Ben gave a throaty sigh and explained, “Things were falling apart before. We’ve been talking less, we lost the spark. I thought it was just time, you know, we got so used to each other. But then I met this girl…” his voice got so deep his words were half whispered, “I instantly felt it again - that spark. She’s smart and funny and she has such a presence. I just want to watch her, all the time.”

Thinking of Ben feeling that way about someone sent a pang of yearning through you; he looked so soft, all curves. The evening sun cast a glow over him, bathing him in gold. A lone strand of hair fell down over his forehead that you were desperate to push back. The gentle curve of his jaw, soft but defined, was illuminated. His teeth clenched behind pouted lips.

He looked deep into your eyes, so far he could have been looking through you. “It reminded what love should feel like. I guess I realised that it wasn’t right to keep fighting anymore. It was time to move on.”

A heavy silence settled in the room that you couldn’t bring yourself to break. You had to remind yourself that the urge to stroke his cheek and hold him tight to your chest was entirely unprofessional. You opened your mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say. Luckily, Gwil walked back in at that moment.

“Sorry about that, she was just checking i- is everything okay?” he said noticing the tone of the room.

Rami twisted him mouth into an awkward grin, “Ben just told Y/N about the breakup.”

Gwil nodded slowly, “Oh right.” He raised an eyebrow to Ben in a silent question: if he got an answer you weren’t aware of it. “Are you okay Y/N?”

“Me?” The question confused you; what did Ben’s breakup have to do with you? “I’m fine. I guess I’m a little upset that you clearly all knew and I’m only finding out now.”

The guilt in Ben’s eyes tore at your heart. With so much tension in the air you decided that everyone needed to let off some steam.

“Let’s go out,” you said abruptly.

All four pairs of eyes converged on you.

“We have to work tomorrow,” Gwil said, ever the responsible parent.

“Come on,” you sighed, exasperated, “It’s what people do when they’re going through a breakup. Anyway, filming starts soon and then dealing with the hangovers will be even worse. Why not go while we can?”

Joe grinned, “I think it’s a great idea.”

“Of course you do,” Rami muttered. “What do you think, Ben?”

You looked at him hopefully, and when a smile tugged at the corner of his lips you beamed.

“Why not?”

You found a small bar, with a decent crowd for a weeknight, and bagged a booth. You got the first round in, despite the protests from the guys, and gave a sweet smile to the barman who helped you carry five pints to the table. You didn’t notice the glare that Ben shot at him.

“It’s busy for a Thursday, wonder why there so many people here,” Gwil mused.

“Come on, it’s London, it must be busy all the time,” Joe reasoned.

You just shook your head and motioned with your chin to the sign above the bar that read:

 KARAOKE NIGHT, EVERY THURSDAY, FREE DRINKS FOR THE BRAVE

“You feeling brave, Joe?” you smirked. His eyes were wide with glee.

Ben sniggered, “Of course you’re the kind of guy who loves karaoke.”

“Don’t knock it Ben, or I might just dedicate a song to you. There’s no way you’ll pull a girl then.”

“Are you looking to pull tonight?” You asked, just a little too fast.

He simpered, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” It turned the groove at the corner of his mouth into a chasm, and his eyes smouldered a rich emerald green in the dim light. Like he would have any trouble pulling.

“Well I make an excellent wing woman, just to let you know,” you smirked a little sassily and took a sip of your drink.

“Role play,” he responded without missing a beat. You had to concentrate on not choking when your mind wondered to the connotations of those two words.

“I’m not going to give it all away.”

“Signature move, then.”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip a little, hiding a smirk, and said, “Well, I’d talk you up to her a bit, then send you off to get us a round, and while you’re gone I’d very subtly allude to some sexual past between us and imply that you were the best I ever had.” You could barely make eye contact with him, but as you spoke those final few words you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his self-satisfied grin. “Works a charm,” you finished.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,’ Joe interrupted before you could fall too deep into that particular rabbit hole, “but I want a free drink.”

“What, now?” you said with incredulity.

“No time like the present,” he said as he downed what was left of his pint.

“Are you seriously going to be the first person to sing?”

“Well someone’s gotta kick this bad boy off,” and with that he was marching over to the DJ.

“God, you’re so bloody American,” you laughed breathily.

Joe proceeded to annihilate a Rick Astley classic. There was a lot of cheesy two-stepping and emphatic pointing (mostly towards Ben), and he was given a loud cheer as he finished. The barman even gave him a free shot on top of his pint, just because he was so enthusiastic.

You greeted him with a chorus of ‘wow’s as he sat back down.

“That was pretty amazing mate,” said Ben.

“I was good, right,” Joe smiled, panting lightly.

“It was engaging, for sure,” you laughed.

Rami piped up, “That’s code for ‘you were horrendous but I couldn’t look away.’ Like seeing a cat in human clothes.”

“Well that’s just rude, and the crowd seemed to like it. Anyway, who’s next?”

“I vote Y/N,” Ben winked and you snorted.

“Um, no thank you. I’m no singer.”

“Well that’s just a dirty lie, isn’t it? I heard you singing from inside your trailer this morning. It was a rather lovely rendition of Crazy Little Thing Called Love, I believe.”

You eyes went wide and you blushed, remembering how you had danced around as you sang, thinking no one else was awake yet. You desperately hoped he hadn’t seen you through the window, but the twinkle in his eye made you suspect otherwise.

“Look, I’m perfectly happy sitting right here with a drink that I paid for.”

“No way,” Gwil beamed, “it was your idea to come out, I think it’s only right that you sing.”

You pursed you lips, “I’m really fine.”

Ben licked the corner of his mouth, his eyes locked with yours, and said, “We won’t force you if you don’t think you can pull it off. We wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself now, would we?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and ran your tongue over your teeth. He knew exactly what to say to get you riled up. You were desperate to prove yourself to him, but also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you wrapped around his little finger. The tension around the table was palpable as you brooded over what to do. A group of women, far too drunk for the time of the evening, had just finished screeching their way through Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, so it was now or never.

You stood without a word, grabbed a shot from the bar, and went to the microphone. You told the DJ what you were singing — Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin, which you had pre-picked for exactly a situation like this — and waited for the guitar to kick in. You took a steadying breath and stole a glance at the guys. Joe, Gwil, and Rami were smiling encouragingly, but Ben just cocked an eyebrow at you in a silent challenge.

Needless to say, you crushed it.

You let the music fill you up, ignoring the rest of room, and pretended you were in your bedroom singing into a hairbrush. You swayed your hips, just sexily enough to show how comfortable you were up there, and belted out the high notes as best you could. It was liberating, and you felt galvanised by the whoops and cheers coming from your table - Joe’s voice was unmistakable as he cheered you on. You tried to steal a glance at Ben through the lights, but couldn’t make out the expression on his face.

“Dude, you brought this on yourself,” Joe quipped, noticing the awe and the hunger on Ben’s face.

“You were the one that told her I had feelings for someone,” he sassed back.

“I didn’t tell her who!”

“Oh right, ‘cause you’re always Mr Subtle.”

“Well I’m not going to sit around forever and watch you pine over her and do absolutely nothing about it.”

You were making your way back to the table, still followed by the cheers of the crowd, and grinned at the guys, oblivious to the conversation that preceded you. Ben shot Joe a warning glare as you sat down, free drink in hand.

“I think we can safely say I did not embarrass myself,” you said, smug.

“You were amazing up there, Y/N,” Rami smiled kindly.

You looked to Ben, waiting for whatever snarky remark he was bound to make, but nothing came.

“Nothing to say Ben?”

He blinked slowly, and replied with a shrug, “I eat my words.”

You were shocked into silence, and only vaguely aware of Joe rolling his eyes. You would have wondered what it meant had you not been so distracted by the way Ben’s body seemed to clench and sigh. The muscles in his arm rippled as he tightened his fingers around his drink.

You gave your head an indiscernible shake to dislodge the image from your mind and turned to Rami to distract yourself. “It’ll be your turn next Mr Mercury,” you said, raising your eyebrows.

“No no. If this was lip sync then I could crush it, but I’m not singing.”

You spent the rest of the evening chatting, cheering on those who braved the karaoke and trying to ignore the less tuneful among them. Amidst all the joking about and teasing you were completely ignorant to the way Ben looked at you, watching your lips as you talked animatedly and the breadth of emotions dancing in your eyes. He smiled at the annoyance with which you kept tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear that kept breaking free to fall across you face. It briefly occurred to him that he was staring, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat and try to focus on other things, but his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you. He contributed little to the conversation, as lost as he was in his pining after you, and it had shocked him when you asked him if any girls had caught his eye. He wasn’t looking at anyone but you.

tags:

@anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax

(let me know if you want to be tagged and i’ll add you!)

#kind of magic series #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fan fiction #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #rami malek #queen #roger taylor

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daniellececil11-blog · 4 years

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Hello Everyone, a loved one of mine was brutally murdered in the small town of Bardstown Kentucky on April 26th, 2020. His name is Jamie Keene, 32 year old African American male, son, brother, and father of 2 young boys. He was a hard working young man who still had long life ahead of him, that was taken. The police know who did it, and are just not flat out arresting anyone or doing anything about it. His family has hired an attorney, and need your help with funds or even just getting the story out there of this injustice. Please if you can share or donate. Below I will post the link to his gofundme along with a post from his Aunt, of a little about the case that is mind boggling. Thank you! Gofundme: https://www.gofundme.com/f/usy49e-justice-for-jamie?sharetype=teams&member=4434386&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_source=customer&utm_campaign=p_na+share-sheet&pc_code=ot_co_dashboard_a&rcid=e776585629cb42379398d62fabeb585b Story from Aunt: Jamie Keene was murdered on April 26th at Jackie Cornish apartment! Why didn't this make front page of our local paper or local news? Why was it that his parents were not notified by BPD, why did they have to find out from someone contacting someone through family? Why when my husband found out we went right to the scene at around 8am and it didn't even look like a crime seen? Nothing was taped off at all? Why was Jamie's vehicle removed from the scene already? Why did the neighbor next door who's bedroom window is right next to Jackie's living room door claim to us she never heard anything and slept until 5am with so much going on next door? Why when we got to the BPD about 845am the detective acted as if he was still investigating and still had Jackie questioning her, but want to ask us if we knew anyone who would want to hurt or harm Jamie in anyway? Why did this stuff happen through the night/early morning and you have the person who was there at the time it took place but you still don't have the truth as too what happened? How does Jackie have access to her apartment to go and have someone clean it up by 11am the same morning? How does Jackie and the supposibly person of interest both report to work on April 27th the very next day like nothing even happened? Why everytime there is a Justice for Jamie event here in Bardstown ky, to make more people aware about him being murdered here in Bardstown the police show up? Which is fine, but if you show up show up to support and help us get this Justice. Don't show up to take pictures to post pictures of another movement to try to keep this situation covered up! Why is this such a secret? Here in Bardstown Ky guys, we have an issue! I'm going to be the first to share this, please spread the word maybe this will get his story out there Justice for Jamie no longer needs to be a covered up secret it needs to be known he lost his life in Bardstown Ky and the law enforcement are covering something up to protect Jackie Cornish! Someone needs to be locked up today! It's been a whole 52 days now a life was taking and there is still, no one arrested!!! Kevin Keene 52 days now! We want someone locked up instead of running the streets freely!

#justiceforjamie

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kiss-my-freckle · 5 years

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Dialogues

1x2 -

Red: Watch yourself with her, Donald. She hates men, and cops most of all.

1x3 -

Red: I prefer to play with myself in private.

Liz: He’s a myth. Red: That’s what they said about Deep Throat … and the G-Spot.

1x5 -

Red: She owns that nightclub. Last time I was there, we had a great deal of fun, until she tried to strangle me with her stocking.

Red: Or just bend over any available piece of furniture and let her slap you on the ass. She loves that.

Red: He knows you better than I do, and I know where that lovely little freckle is.

1x6 -

Red: Because Yuri talks faster than a cheerleader after a nooner under the grandstands. Probably not a metaphor you understand.

1x8 -

Red: Oh, my God. I’ve never been more scared of a woman in my life. She was thrilling in bed. What a pair of legs. I think she played field hockey in college.

1x14 -

Red: I had a little talk with Rasil. We had a few laughs, compared notes about you. He told me all about that delightful thing you do with a trouser belt, which was a bit hurtful, since I was pretty sure it was our thing.

1x18 -

Vlad: You slept with my wife. Red: How is Fadila? Vlad, it was a mistake. I can easily blame it on the hashish and the grappa, but the truth is - may I speak freely? You’re better off without her. She’s fickle.

1x19 -

Red: Calculus. I can’t even think about derivatives without thinking of that tutor in manor hall. Cindy something-or-other. Never wore a brassiere. Always a bounce in her step.

1x20 -

Red: Ah. Smells like decadence and vice.

2x1 -

Red: They know your habits, the banks you use, the pills you pop, the men or women you sleep with.

Red: Lord Baltimore. Aren’t you a surprisingly saucy minx.

Samar: Aren’t we confident today? Red: I’m confident every day. Samar: And I thought we had nothing in common.

2x7 -

Red: Keep your plum covered. We’re not alone.

2x10 -

Red: Luther, I never thought I’d enjoy having anything in my mouth as much as Petty Officer Virginia Sherman, but this - My God! It tastes so good! I hesitate to swallow, and I certainly don’t want to spit it out.

2x2 -

Red: Mmm! Tastes just like Patty Sutton.

2x3 -

Red: Titillating. But what Laskin and Russo do with or to one another in their spare time is none of my concern. Red: A threesome? Interesting. Based on his sartorial splendor, I gather this is Mr. Vargas. Does that even look like real hair?

Red: You poor thing. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. It boggles the imagination. B.B., you don’t look well. Are you alright? Let me guess: irregular heartbeat, shortness of breath, perhaps a little tingling in your nether regions? Those drinks you’ve been enjoying on the house? They weren’t from the house. They were from me. I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of adding a special surprise ingredient, something to treat any localized dysfunction you may be suffering. Has the little man been falling down on the job? It’s a miracle drug, not so much for a glutton with a bum heart, however. But look on the bright side, you’ll die with a marvelous erection.

2x11 -

Red: The other one, the watercolorist, she - legs like a shot-putter. She gets me in this headlock. I black out. Next thing I know, I wake up - no sheets, vaseline everywhere. The lipstick on the mirror overhead reads, “Same time next year?” I haven’t missed an art expo in Basel since.

Red: Ah. A Russian milonga. Watch closely, Lizzy. Everything you need to know about negotiation is there in the tango milonga. At the outset, they are opponents. Each has something the other wants. They size one another up, assessing risk, setting boundaries, challenging each other to breach them. A sensuous battle - violence and sex balanced on the blade of a knife. Nothing given that is not earned - nothing taken that is not given. This is the pure essence of negotiation. Not a poker game, but a milonga. A tango. A seduction.

Red: And I assure you my bed accommodates a broad spectrum of behavior.

2x12 -

Red: Samar, my dear, bump in the road I can help smooth over, or have the clouds finally parted and this is a social call?

2x14 -

Red: Careful there, boys. You don’t want to bruise the merchandise.

Red: Really, I’m all for being thorough, but at this point, you’re just taking the nickel tour.

Red: Oh, the Dinky. No matter the time of day, that damn train is always full of hungover frat boys and co-eds in the throes of morning-after regret.

Red: Good heavens, Earl. You’ve never had any feeling in your heart, but now it looks like there isn’t much going on below the waist. Earl: I do all right. The wheelchair is just a little memento of our time together in Bolivia. Red: No hard feelings, I trust.

2x18 -

Red: Because, Mr. Jasper, you strike me as a man who would prefer to pitch rather than catch.

2x20 -

Red: Don’t look so glum, Kenneth. You just spent 10 minutes being ridden hard by Agent Navabi. I’d die for five.

2x21 -

Red: She makes her real money consulting. Costs a fortune. She did, however, let me name a lipstick color - “Fire In The Hole.”

Kimberly: I can only tell you what they’re doing. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you who they’re doing it to.

3x7 -

Hasaan: What do you want? Red: Well, another spin of the bottle in Melanie Reichman’s basement, but, I’ll settle for you.

3x8 -

Red: When’s the last time you got any of that, Pablo? Or have you? Pablo: We share everything.

Red: No wonder Cash doesn’t trust you with anything more important than babysitting. Pablo: That’s big talk coming from a guy who’s -

3x9 -

Red: I prefer that slight curve at the small of the back, the swell of a breast, the soft nape of the neck to quicken my heartbeat.

3x21 -

Cynthia: I read his e-mails. Ever since I found him with the nanny, I look at everything. Samuel: We don’t even have a nanny! It was a movie. Red: A nanny movie? Cynthia: Not just nannies. Schoolteachers, nurses, and a ridiculous threesome with two completely unbelievable policewomen. Samuel: Cynthia, they’re just movies. I have never cheated on you. And besides, I don’t think he wants to hear about it. Red: Yes, I want to hear about it. All about it. Unfortunately, I do need to hear about your contract with Halcyon. So business first, and then, Cynthia, I’ll be all ears.

Red: I had an enlightening meeting with Samuel Rand today. More to the point, with his wife, Cynthia.

Scottie: Howard didn’t take that job. We haven’t had sex in four years. We’re rarely in the same country, let alone the same bed. Red: What bed have you been occupying? Scottie: I’ve been assuming a larger role in a management position lately. Red: You don’t say.

Red: You have it all wrong, dear. I didn’t come to kill you. I came here because you and I are about to climb into bed together, just for a quickie.

3x23 -

Red: Aram… set him up with someone, for God’s sake. He’s like a kid with his first erection on the school bus.

4x7 -

Red: My sympathies to your significant other. And if your flag is flying at half mast, rest assured, I find in the privacy of one’s boudoir, pleasing others is the key to pleasing oneself.

4x14 -

Red: Oh, my goodness. This is tedious. I’d give almost anything to have a scratch. But seeing as how, given your profession, David, you might be more inclined to squeeze them rather than scratch them, I won’t impose. I’ll just wait for the next break.

David: Forget having your testicles scratched. You’ve been castrated.

4x20 -

Red: Baldur, you and I are deal-makers. We buy low and sell high. Getting that cruise line on the cheap was better than sex with your mistress. Either of them. I’m a little down on my luck. A penny stock. Invest in me now and when I rise, you’ll be able to afford three mistresses.

4x22 -

Red: I do wonder what else Donald’s men will find in your nightstand. Are you a vibrator kind of gal, Laurel? We’ll see.

5x1 -

Car guy: How’d she do? Red: Like Bergita Olofson in her parents’ rumpus room on a Saturday night.

5x2 -

Cooper: No, he’s playing grab-ass by the pool between naps and happy hour.

5x10 -

Isaacson: Bite me. Red: Hmm. A woman after my own heart.

5x12 -

Red: Joro spiders. In Japanese folklore, the joro is said to be able to change its appearance to that of a beautiful woman who seduces men, binding them in her web before devouring them. Hence its name “joro-gumo,” or “whore spider.”

5x13 -

Red: Imagine the confidence a man has to have in his own genitals to take on a nickname like “Big Willie.”

5x15 -

Red: Yes. Very impressive. What a gymnasium - a real shrine to athleticism. I can just feel the testosterone.

Fagen: You promised me a sure thing, gives me Viagra, and all I have to show for it is a four-hour erection.

[deleted scene]

Smokey: You’re a sucker, Red. Everyone thinks you’re soooo tough with the hat and the shades and the people you kill but I know better. Circus folk know a sucker when we see one. You’re a sucker. You’re a sucker for the pets, you’re a sucker for Heddie. And God knows why, you’re even a sucker for me. Red: I suppose I am. Smokey: Well, that’s good for me. I’ll follow you anywhere. Red: Well, let's start in the back. I believe we have some cash to count.

5x19 -

Red: This apartment. Right here. Oh. My God. To have been the proverbial fly on Clyde Tolson’s duvet. Liz: Clyde Tolson lived here? J. Edgar Hoover’s lover? Red: This was their secret hideaway. Imagine the conversations. Cooing over JFK’s lovers. Slandering Dr. King. What peignoir to wear to bed. When I saw the apartment was for sale, I couldn’t resist. Liz: You own the apartment where the homophobic head of the FBI carried on his affair with his boyfriend? Red: Allegedly. I wouldn’t admit this in mixed company, but J. Edgar and I have a surprising amount in common. For instance, we both always get our man.

5x21 -

Red: I’ve heard steroids make your penis shrink. Have you found that to be the case?

Liz: Gonzalez called you. Red: His guard, actually. We developed something of a bond.

6x2 -

Red: Through five marriages, numerous lovers, allegedly both male and female.

Red: Cary Grant once said after a particularly evocative LSD trip, “I imagined myself as a giant penis launching off from Earth - “like a spaceship.”

6x4 -

Red: Baldomero, what do you say we call this whole thing off? What happened in Iztapalapa was a terrible mistake. I regret it dearly, and I had no idea she was your mother. Baldomero: You were in my bed. There was a picture of me on the nightstand. Red: Okay, in our defense, it was incredibly dark, and we’d been drinking heavily. Honestly, I regret the entire weekend. Of course, don’t tell your mother that.

#dialogues

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wayneaustin257-blog · 5 years

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Struggling with focus? Guaranteed easy steps to help you out

Envision encountering your step by step work plan and to a great degree making a better than average endeavor to focus on your work yet then you are not prepared to. How bewildering is that! Would it be that your cerebrum is running low on fuel? To be sure and no! Allow us to see how.

What is Brain Fog?

A man makes a request regarding a matter you are to a great degree particularly acquainted with. In any case you find that you can't think about an answer with the run of the mill vitality you have. Or maybe you are dumbfounded and require a huge stretch of time to think about the fitting reaction. What you are experiencing is called Brain Fog. Cerebrum Fog is an ordinary term for brokenness you may association in focusing, learning, memory that may get brief episodes of perplexity, disorientated lead and disturbance.

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As watched subsequently the individual experiences discomfort and in that limit can't perform preferably at work or at home. Further this depletes the assurance of the customer and this makes the individual feel peevish. One should not disregard the signs and fitting gathering with a therapeutic master can empower a great deal. Getting help in genuine time can help in keeping any further effects of the issue.

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In causing mind dimness, extend is generally the key reason. Stress can bring another a lot of pains that may hamper your mental and additionally physical prosperity. Allow us to look at a part of the other definitely comprehended purposes behind the rise of Brain Fog;

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As the condition is an inside and out decided one, where you can perceive the symptoms clearly, as such the specialists routinely rely upon blood work for discovering help with the conditions. A blood test drove on the individual may demonstrate the going with key properties that immensely assists the specialist in giving you a diagnosis close by the right medications and dosage repeat;

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By what method may we fight it?

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Smart drugs: Aiding you

Remedies are at present available that can bolster your psychological inclination and even give you conviction to work higher. Frequently called as smart drugs or Nootropics, these prescriptions might just be the dynamic part of today that pushes the overall public to go further and accomplish their destinations.

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It is exceedingly proposed that you visit the crisis room rapidly in case you go up against any of the responses or any discomfort to hold any further damage to your physiology.

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