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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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ashnikko demidevil inspired blurbs

I just took lines from ashnikkos demidevil album and made little blurbs with whatever gave me inspo :) femme reader sometimes gender neutral in some spots, everyone is 18+

Content warnings: yandere-ness, stalking, mentions of heat(but not a/b/o), dubcon, master title(?), light angst? But it’s well deserved, blood

I don’t need a man I need a puppy, allergic to you every time you touch me -

Babysitting your friend's new puppy hybrid wasn’t a task you’d originally wanted. She had gotten him fairly recently, only to jet away to an impromptu vacation, leaving you the sole caretaker of the very large hybrid.

The only problem was you were allergic to dogs. Nothing terrible, but if he stayed around you too long, you’d start to get hives. And he understood that, politely keeping his distance as he roamed around your home.

“Getou, I’m home!” You announced after a long day of work, throwing open the front door only to be assaulted by a harsh musk in the air.

“Master!” Within moments of you kicking the door closed you were pounced on by the giant puppy that had been staying with you for a while. Your back hit the door hard but that wasn’t what you were focused on.

“G-Getou! What’re you doing?!” Your face was aflame not only from embarrassment but from the strong waves of heat rolling off his body. Getou had slid to his knees on the floor and shamelessly shoved his face into the crotch of your pants, his nose bumping right at your slit through your clothes.

“Master please...help…” He whined pitifully, rutting his hips against your leg. It was almost comical, the way he was hunched over you trying desperately to get stimulation to his leaking cock dangling between his legs.

Muddling through the murky memories of what your friend had told you about Getou, it took a few minutes to remember that she had mentioned something about him possibly going into heat.

“Are you…” It only took a glance down at his sweaty body covered only in a t-shirt to affirm that he was indeed in heat. He whined again, nearly sobbing as the harsh material of your bottoms rubbed against his sensitive cock. “What do I need to do?” The question made Getou’s head fly up, and the usual smirk on his face was gone, replaced with glassy eyes and quivering lips.

“I-I know you don’t like dogs but- but could you please just touch me?” Rubbing his face against your hip, Getou looked at you again. His hair and the fur on his ears was frizzy no doubt from sweat and his lips looked like he’d been biting them.

“Scoot back, puppy.” Placing a hand on his forehead, you gently pushed him back. The heat on Getou’s face was scalding, washing over him in a bright blush. Begrudgingly letting you go, Getou sat back on his knees, shoulders hunched but still managing to take up a good amount of space.

“Please help.” Balling up the edges of his shirt, Getou tucked the fabric under his chin and presented himself to you. His skin had a pale red flush, chest heaving and abs tight from trying to contain himself. Your eyes were drawn to his cock, leaking a generous amount of precum down the thick shaft.

“Puppy.” You said the word softly, and a warmth settled between your legs at seeing him look at you from under his lashes. The intense pheromones in the air were triggering your allergies and there was only one surefire way of getting rid of them.

“Master!” Getou choked out as another gush of precum rolled down his cock and his tail thumped against the ground as he writhed a little in agony. “Hurry, please!”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, puppy, it’ll be easier to help you there.” You’d thought about taking him to the couch, but the bed would be more comfortable in the long run.

And you didn’t need to utter the phrase twice. Getou leaped from the ground, his long tail swishing excitedly as he grabbed your wrist and ran to the bedroom. Pushing you onto the bed, he stripped himself in an instant.

“I-I’ll try not to be too rough, master.” He mumbled, climbing over you just as you’d started shrugging off your jacket. Nearly crushed by his entire body weight, Getou made sure to slide his cock right against your clothed cunt, rutting hard against you as soon as he could. “Unless you want it like that.”

I don’t need a man I need a rabbit, I need a new toy just to cleanse my palate -

Get a bunny hybrid, they said. It’ll be fun, they insisted. Bunnies are so cute and nice, they repeated over and over. Well yours surely wasn’t.

“Gojo! Get over here!” You were at your boiling point. All day Gojo had been causing mischief, leaving food out, popping out from behind corners and furniture and scaring you, pulling on your hair and clothes, asking never ending questions.

“Yes?” The lanky bunny hybrid with long white ears waltzed into the kitchen, not wearing his trademark dark glasses and leaving his bright blue eyes on display.

“What the fuck is this?” Glaring harshly at him, you pointed to the floury mess smeared on the kitchen counters and wall. It looked like he’d attempted to make some kind of dough but had given up halfway.

“Wasn’t me.” Gojo shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then who could it be, because it wasn’t me and we’re the only ones here.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you glowered at his careless expression and slouched body. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here presented with the mess he’d undoubtedly made.

“Dunno.” He shrugged again, scratching behind his ear and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Gojo, clean it up.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t do it!” Stamping his feet, Gojo shook his head and his ears flopped side to side.

“I’m not playing these games anymore! Just do what I ask for once!” It was a constant back and forth with the two of you, and while you had plenty of sweet moments to outweigh the bad, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

“(Y/N), c’mon!” Gojo whined and threw his head back. Staring at each other for a few minutes, your blood pressure only rose the longer he remained immobile.

“One.” You drew the word out, and Gojo’s head snapped to attention. Waiting a breath, he didn’t move any further.

“Two.” Saying it even slower this time, you could just barely see the twitch of his little puffball tail.

“Th-”

“Alright, I’ll clean it up!” Shooting over to the counter, Gojo huffed and puffed. “Even though it totally wasn’t me.”

“Whatever, the kitchen better be sparkling before I go to sleep.” Leaving the mess behind, you avoided Gojo for the rest of the day and didn’t see him as you got ready for bed. Checking the kitchen one last time, it was indeed back in pristine condition.

Going to sleep without saying goodnight to the pouty bunny you’d seen sulking in his room, you went to sleep alone. More often than not Gojo would sleep in bed with you, but whenever the two of you were snippy with each other he would sleep alone.

A hot, wet tongue between your legs roused you from sleep. You were absolutely sweating beneath the blankets that were drawn up to your chin and there was a Gojo sized lump underneath them.

“G-gojo…” Breathing deeply to try and push the sleepy fog from your mind, his name ended in a high whine as his tongue flicked against your clit. Wrapping his lips around it, Gojo sucked on the bud, keeping your legs spread out across his shoulders.

He got you to cum fairly quickly, having aroused you enough in sleep that when you awoke you were already on the brink. Squeezing his head between your thighs as you came on his tongue, you shuddered at the deep groan he let out.

“Ya know (Y/N),” He started, voice muffled by the blankets before he threw them off and sat up, “I’ve been thinkin’.” Settling between your legs, Gojo kept your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned over.

“Ab-about what?” Your mind was dizzy with pleasure, eyes only just able to focus on Gojo’s face above you. Even though this was the first time you two were doing something like this it still felt natural. Something you’d have to talk about in the morning, but natural nonetheless.

“You’re always so fucking snippy all the time-”

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t finished! You’re snippy all the time and you always get on my back for the stupidest shit.” He giggled at the glare you gave him, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “But I’ve found the perfect solution to that!”

There wasn’t a chance to question him on what he meant. Gojo lined up his cock and pushed into your cunt, easily sliding in and bottoming out in one go. You hadn’t gotten a chance to look at it properly, but you knew it was easily the biggest you’d ever had.

“This is your solution?” You half panted, wrapping your arms around Gojo’s shoulders and whimpering as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Yeah.” He was breathless as well, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and lightly slapped his hips against yours. “I figure what better way to change your attitude than to fuck it out of you.” Grabbing onto your ankles, Gojo leaned nearly chest to chest with you.

His forehead brushed against yours, his snowy white hair tickling you. He did a few experimental half thrusts, getting the feel for the angle he was in and making any minor adjustments.

“And luckily for you, (Y/N), I’m a rabbit.” Immediately, Gojo picked up the pace of his hips, jackhammering into you at an insane speed and quite possibly bruising your hips in the process.

“Gojo!” Your voice caught in your throat at the sudden change, your body being folded in half and crushed into the mattress.

Gojo smirked at your shocked expression, dropping one hand to rub your clit. You let out a sharp cry, jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your walls clamped down on him in an instant, making the drag of his cock just a fraction slower.

“I can go all night if I have to.”

Make your man call me daddy -

Was Itadori a little nervous? That went without saying, yes, he was very nervous. This was the first time he’d worn lingerie in public, hidden under his clothes but with the possibility of someone seeing if he bent over the wrong way.

He kept tugging down his hoodie and pulling up his pants, making sure no one saw the lacy thong he’d put on. He had on a bra as well, a lacy little number that was truly just a few tiny pieces of fabric sewn together.

Not to mention the prostate massager currently buried snugly in his ass, vibrating at random with varying intensities. Itadori almost regretted purchasing it as another powerful vibration went through him and nearly made him fall over in the street. But he didn’t want to let you down, so he endured the torture.

“I’m back.” Practically crawling through the threshold of the door, Itadori was nearly in tears at being back in the safety of your shared apartment. He had barely managed to complete all the tasks you’d given him, the little white plastic bag in his fingers crumpled to death with how strong his grip was.

“In here.” You called out from the bedroom and Itadori followed the sound until he got to you. Lounging at the foot of the bed, you looked nearly innocent with your legs crossed and foot swinging daintily.

Itadori didn’t speak as he entered the room, hovering by the doorway for a moment before fully entering and standing in front of you, head down and looking at your sock clad feet.

“How was it, baby?” Your question made him flinch and a hot burning washed over his face.

“I- it was- something.” He sighed, glancing up to see your quizzical expression for a fleeting moment.

“Did you keep it on like I told you to?”

“Of course!” Itadori nodded immediately, already grasping the hem of his hoodie and pulling it off to reveal the bra underneath, the fabric stretched tight against the barrel of his chest.

“Look at your nipples, they’re so cute.” You cooed, reaching up to press your finger onto one. It was perfectly perky, pebbled from the stimulation of rubbing against lace. Itadori shivered and leaned into your touch, biting his lip to stem any too loud moans.

Taking your hand away, your eyes flicked down to his pants and he quickly removed those as well.

“Oh baby, you shoulda told me you came! You made such a big mess!” It wasn’t surprising in the slightest to see the absolute mess of sticky cum smeared across Itadori’s cock, the thong he had on and his thighs.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want the fun to end.” He pouted, fully kicking off his pants and tossing them to the side with his hoodie.

“I bet the toy felt real nice, huh?” Sparing him a lecture, you reached out and swiped your finger through the cum coating the tip of Itadoris cock. He jolted at the contact, letting out a high whine and pressing his thighs together.

“Y-yeah, it did.” He managed to answer, somehow staying steady on his feet through the near overstimulation he was in. Gathering a bit of cum on your fingers, you presented it to him and Itadori obediently bent down, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Good boy.” You grinned, running your free hand through his hair and letting him nuzzle into you. “Go pick out which toy you want next, you deserve a reward.” Freeing your fingers, Itadori bolted to the dresser drawer where you kept the toys.

“I choose this one.” In his hands was his favorite toy, a strap-on you’d bought together at a local sex shop.

“Alright, lay on the bed.” Taking the toy from him, you watched him lay down just like you’d taught him: face down in the pillows with his ass presented high in the air. Running a hand over his ass, you smiled down at him. “You’re being such a good boy today, baby.”

“Thank you.” Itadori replied, mouth muffled by the pillows as he tried to make eye contact with you. Quirking your head to the side, you gave him a silent look and he flushed, ears tinging a deep rouge. Licking his lips, Itadori looked away for a moment before shuffling a bit to make better eye contact with you. “Thank you, daddy.”

You don’t ever cross my mind, what’s a sheep to a tiger? -

It was laughable that he thought he was being so secretive, like you couldn’t tell you were being stalked when all you could feel were his eyes watching you at all times.

You’d already changed the locks after you caught him following you home.

Your curtains were always drawn closed, but that didn’t stop him from lurking outside, his shadow a constant presence outside your bedroom and bathroom windows.

You couldn’t even count the amount of unknown phone numbers you’d had to block in the past month alone along with deleting voicemails that only had slightly shaky breathing on the other side.

As far as stalkers went, Okkotsu Yuta wasn’t that great. You’d only briefly met him once at a meeting with other sorcerers and he had appeared weak and spineless before you, barely able to make eye contact despite his vast power.

“Fuck, you again?” You groan, seeing Yuta waiting by your door as you waltzed back from a run to the convenience store.

“H-hello.” His voice is just as meek as ever. You’ve seen him be confident and assured before when he didn’t know you were in the room, but as soon as he saw you it was like he became a totally different person and lost even the will to speak.

“Get a fucking job.” Not in the mood to entertain him, you slid closer to your front door. You weren’t scared about possibly having to get physical with him, you could surely hold your own against a grown man who actively stepped back as you got closer.

Worrying his lip and wringing his hands together, Yutas eyes darted everywhere, from the small plastic bag in your hand to your outfit and finally settling atop your head. His breathing was loud and unsteady and there was a light blush coating his cheeks.

“Are you just going to keep standing there like a loser?” Glaring at him, you sneered as his blush got deeper and there was a subtle squeeze in his thighs. “What do you even want? Gonna try to give me more flowers?”

“No.” Yuta answered immediately, the bitter memory of you stomping on the bouquet he bought you fresh in his mind.

“Then what? What does a little sheep like you want?” Crossing your arms, you tapped your foot impatiently.

“I-I just-” Blinking rapidly, there were a million thoughts going through Yutas head. He couldn’t find the words and his mouth was running dry. He nearly collapsed seeing you sigh and shake your head, about to fish out your keys and walk right past him. “W-wait!”

“What?”

“Do you- I just have to know, (Y/N), do you ever think about me like how I think about you?” Yuta looked so hopeful it was morphing into sick desperation in his features. His brows were knitted together so tightly that you knew there’d be lingering wrinkles there.

“Okkotsu.” Saying his name firmly and squaring your shoulders, you stared right into his eyes with a fierce look on your face. This was the first time you were ever making eye contact and to say it made you sick to your stomach was an understatement.

“Yes?” He whispered, licking his lips nervously.

“I have never thought about you in that way.” His smile fell as you spoke, and you could see his heart break behind his eyes. “In fact, any time I think of you I get sick. You disgust me.”

“Darling-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t call me that.” You snapped, pushing him back as he tried to reach out and touch you. “Get the hell away from me and leave me alone, you’re pathetic and gross.”

“I love you! I love you so much, please!” Falling to his knees, Yuta reached his hands out to you, hoping you’d take them and soothe his soul from the pain you’d just inflicted.

“I’d rather be swallowed by a curse than have you as a lover.” The scornful look you sent Yuta made him physically wither away, flinching at the red hot anger brewing just beneath the surface. “Besides, I’m pretty sure people in love don’t stalk each other.”

“Darling...please…” There were tears dripping down his face that just made him look worse. Scoffing one last time at him, you shoved your key into the lock and swung open your front door.

“Okkotsu, if I ever see you in this neighborhood again, I’ll kill you myself. Rika be damned.” With those parting words, you slammed the door closed and locked it swiftly, immediately heading to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol. You surely needed a drink or three after dealing with the headache that was Okkotsu Yuta.

Just as you took the first sip, a ding sounded on your phone, an indication of a text.

“Oh brother.” Rolling your eyes, you already knew who it was from.

(Unknown number): I’ll never give up on you, I’ll love you until the very end

Blocked, deleted. Time for another drink.

I’m crazy but you like that -

Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do.

But why did it feel like the worst decision you’d ever made?

He was brash, controlling over every part of your life, demanding your undivided attention at all times. He claimed he only wanted what was best for you, but the final straw in your relationship came when you caught him installing a hidden camera in your bedroom. He was far too casual when he said the last one had broken.

So you had no choice but to break it off. Sukuna had taken it well at the time, calmly and silently grabbing the things he had over at your place and leaving with only a curt goodbye. And since then, you hadn’t seen him.

Emphasis being on seen.

His presence was still very much felt in your life. There was mail addressed to him showing up at your place. You’d get random unknown numbers calling you throughout the week, sometimes with voices you didn’t recognize trying to ask you questions and other times it was silent on the other line until whoever called hung up.

But all the strange occurrences were beginning to add up and it was starting to feel like Sukuna had never left in the first place. All the times you came home to a tidy front entryway when you knew you’d left in shambles before heading to work. The way your shower products seemed to diminish quicker even though you hadn’t changed your routine. And sometimes, you woke up in the middle of the night to a shadow just outside your window, darting away just before you could properly get up.

Changing the locks on your front door and adding locks on all the windows you could had given you much needed peace of mind. The strange things inside your house had stopped. There wasn’t anything you needed to purposefully ignore now. You could sit up a little straighter, breathe a little easier.

Waking up in the middle of the night to go pee, your mind was far away from reality. Thoughts of Sukuna were the last things on your mind, clouded with sleep and just ready to melt under the covers again.

Returning to your bedroom, however, you noticed a figure sitting on the bed that wasn’t there before. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Sukuna. Floundering back against the wall, a scream caught in your throat.

“The bed’s getting cold, angel. Come lie back down.” Sukuna said, a deranged smile on his face. His eyes were wide, drinking in your shaking form wildly.

“W-what’re you doing here?” You whispered, clutching the doorframe as you stumbled to it.

“I had to see my baby, I’ve been missing you.” Breathing hard through his nose, Sukuna patted the bed. “Come here, lemme look at you. It’s been a while since we’ve been face to face.”

“N...no. No!” Shaking your head, your own pupils were blown wide in fear. You watched every miniscule movement Sukuna made, from his breathing to how his fingers twitched. “Get out of here before I call the cops!”

“Aw, call the cops? But, how will you do that? Your phone is broken.”

“What?” Following Sukunas pointing finger, you gasped when you saw your phone smashed to bits on the floor by his feet.

“Now c’mere.” Patting the bed a little harder, Sukuna’s smile wavered. “You know I don’t like asking twice.”

“Sukuna please- please just leave.” There were hot tears burning your lash line, begging to be blinked away, but you refused to close your eyes. The smile on Sukuna’s face fell and rose again rapidly as whatever thoughts he had swirled in his head.

“(Y/N), I don’t think you understand.” Laughing under his breath, Sukuna stood up and stalked over to you.

“Don’t touch me!” You finally screamed but it was too late to try and fight him off. Sukuna grabbed your upper arm tightly and dragged you away from the door and to the bed. “Let me go, Sukuna! You’re crazy!”

“Crazy? Ha!” He barked, flopping back onto the bed and forcing you to straddle his lap. Slapping a hand onto your ass, Sukuna grabbed your jaw and tilted your face toward him. “If being in love with you makes me crazy, then so be it.” Staring at your face, Sukuna had a softer smile now. It was still unsettling, especially close up, and the way his eyes barely blinked had you on edge. “But don’t pretend you don’t like it at least a little bit.”

Wanna see me switch, get psycho like they say I am-

Your new boyfriend Nanami said he was just a salaryman, and why wouldn’t you believe him? He wore freshly pressed business suits everyday, sometimes carried around a briefcase, had the usual 9 to 5 schedule and always grumbled if he ever had to work overtime. Occasionally he met you for lunch and there he’d demand to talk about anything other than the work he did.

He never gave you the impression that he was anything but that, anything other than what he said he was. Whenever the two of you went out on dates, he was either getting off work or wore long sleeves.

This was the first time you were going to go over to his place for a date. Your relationship was starting to progress more romantically and while he’d seen the outside of your home after dropping you off from a date, this was the first time either of you would be in such a closed intimate setting.

His apartment was in a much more luxurious building than you’d first imagined. There was a doorman that had let you in, someone waiting at the front desk and even the elevator was luxurious with rich dark wood.

“Nanami, I’m here!” You called as you approached the door. Raising your fist to knock, you were surprised to see it cracked open, and there were loud noises just inside. Taking a moment to see if anyone had noticed your announcement, you took a chance and pushed open the door.

The entryway was beautifully decorated with Nanami’s shoes lined up neatly by the door. Just looking at the hallway, you could tell he had hired someone to decorate for him.

“Nanami?” You called again, hovering by the door. Whatever sound was in the other room paused for a moment, only to resume again in a more fervent way. “H-hello?” Sneaking down the hall, you came to the entryway to the lounge room and nearly collapsed.

The bloody, unconscious body was what you noticed first, followed by the blood stains speckled about the hardwood floor and reaching the walls. You saw Nanami second, standing over the body in what was once a plain white t-shirt now stained crimson. Third were the tattoos crawling up his arms, rich blacks and reds embedded into his flesh.

“You’re here early. How’d you get in?” Nanami asked in his usual monotone voice, only slightly breathless as he looked you over. He seemed unfazed by your sudden appearance, happy even, a small smile ticking up on the side of his mouth.

“The- the door was open.” You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t possibly look Nanami in the eye, not with the way he looked so calm while standing over a body you were pretty sure was going cold. There was dark blood on his hands, nearly mixing in with his tattoos.

“Silly me, must not have pushed it closed all the way.” Chuckling to himself, Nanami straightened up and stepped over the body, taking a few steps over to you only to stop when he saw you scurry back. “(Y/N), don’t act like that.” He sighed like he was talking to a child.

“Tell me what’s going on.” You said, voice shaking more than you would have liked.

“Just doing a bit of overtime, that’s it.” Nanami shrugged indifferently, taking another step toward you.

“I thought you said you were a salaryman. What kind of overtime is this?” As he took more steps toward you, you stepped back until you hit the wall.

“I am a salaryman.”

“For the yakuza or something?!” It was a shot in the dark, really. You had no reason to believe he was in a gang other than the familiar tattoos that you’d seen on the news and the blood everywhere.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He confirmed it with a straight face and you could tell he wasn’t lying. Nanami wasn’t one to lie or pull punches. Lifting up his hand, Nanami almost cupped your cheek but stopped short when he remembered the blood on his hands. “Let me go clean up, and we can talk about this more.”

As soon as he turned around, you fumbled to get your phone out of your pocket. There was no way you would be staying in this place any longer with him. Not only were you pretty sure he just killed someone, you had no idea what he could do to you.

“You wouldn’t be trying to call anyone, would you?” Nanami asked, turning on his heels by the body. Dropping your phone to the ground as soon as you were caught, you cursed under your breath as he faced you squarely.

“I like you a lot, (Y/N). Don’t mess this up. I’d hate to show you how deranged I can truly be.” The ghost of a smile graced his face and Nanami walked back over to you and grabbed your phone, immediately coating it in sticky blood. “Go wait in the den down the hall, I’ll be by in a moment.”

Slowly dragging your feet to the room in question, you waiting just inside for Nanami to arrive. The den was cozy, a plush warm toned loveseat facing a stone fireplace and a TV. This room, like the others, was undoubtedly decorated by a professional.

“Sorry to make you wait.” Nanami’s voice made you jump as he entered, walking past you and into the room. Sitting down on the loveseat in a fresh shirt and pants and clean skin, Nanami let out a pleased hum.

“Nanami…” Worrying your lip, you didn’t know what to do. You knew you should leave, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that your weak knees would make any sort of movement akin to an escape.

“Don’t be shy, (Y/N).” Spreading his legs, Nanami pat his thigh invitingly. “Come sit on my lap, a pretty little kitty like you deserves the best seat in the house.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #tw: yandere #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuji #okkotsu yuta #nanami kento

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

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The One With The Soulmate

~Notes: Hiya loves! This is a one shot from my The One With The Marauders series and I’m just moving it here to Tumblr<3

Send ME A Friends Episode/Storyline | A Reblog Means The World!!

“You are seriously insatiable tonight,” Remus rebukes, swatting Sirius’s hand away from where he was eagerly grabbing at his arse for another round of fun, positively delicious, bloody remarkable, mind-blowing fun. God Sirius thanks every deity above that he fell in love with such a secretive, little wildcat.

“Oi, wasn’t the whole purpose of this getting married shtick so we could do that whenever we please?” Sirius harrumphs, flopping back on their bed, starfished out as he watches his ridiculously beautiful husband dropping his towel to the floor and digging through their shared drawer for a new pair of pants. He really tries his damndest to not focus on how the dying evening light filters through their room’s open window, bathing Remus in this resplendent, almost heavenly glow, turning the tips of his eyelashes as golden as his hair and caressing the dips and valleys of his lithe muscles, accentuating the smattering of freckles on his thighs and the dimples he’s got on the small of his back. God Sirius can’t take his eyes off of him for even a moment. “Because if not I reckon I can sue for false advertising.”

Remus only sniffs at him, affecting a lofty air as he pulls on the green, turtle net sweater that Sirius especially likes on him for how it brings out the amber flecks in Remus’s emerald eyes and how it hugs his physique in the exact right breath to show off how bloody good looking he is. “We did that right when you came home from the firm, and then again in the shower less than five minutes ago. Don’t tell me it was that forgettable?” He asks with a pointed hiking of the brow.

“Never my lovely little croissant,” Sirius contends hurriedly, popping up from his lounging position to snatch for Remus’s boney wrists, and dragging the shorter man down to sit in his still very naked lap. “You are the best shag and handsomest fellow and—“ Remus claps his hand over Sirius’s mouth, probably trying to come off stern, but Sirius could totally catch the way the corner of his lips begin to flinch upwards— he’s endeared and Sirius knows it.

“Enough of that bollocks, else I’ll get a cavity.”

“But my beautiful crumpet, I want to sing your praises,” Sirius pouts mockingly, kisses the tip of his nose, while one of his well built arms slings around Remus’s slender waste, with his free hand slowly crawling up his inner thigh, thwarted nearly immediately by Remus standing up in a huff.

“Like a bloody mutt.” He scolds.

“Only for you my delightfully delectable cabbage,” Sirius leers, finally standing up and taking the proffered slacks so to get ready for this little soiree Lily’s law firm is holding for their fiftieth anniversary.

“When do you reckon these awful nicknames will drop off?”

“You’re the one who said you like it when I speak French at you,” Sirius goads, smacking Remus’s pert arse as he struts into their master-bath.

“Oi, when it’s spoken in the ruddy language, and not some awful accent you’ve conjured up.” Remus counters moodily before he grabs for one of the colognes on their vanity, and Sirius only smiles privately to himself, so beyond besotted with him that it’s getting detrimental for his health, exhibit A being how he very nearly squirts his aftershave right into his eyes.

But God Remus is so worth it.

The ballroom of the swanky, Mayfair hotel is dressed up in all the opulence that should be expected for a soiree made up of the throng of stuffy, stuck up solicitors that are present. Sirius is not impressed in the slightest, even if he can work the room for one of these parties as effortlessly as breathing thanks to his upbringing as the son of a Lorde and Countess; though he still hates the ambiance of it all, so much so that it makes his skin crawl to this day, but he promised to be here and at least Remus is right besides him, with Sirius’s hand in his back pocket and hazel eyes flickering to him every few minutes or so, as if attuned to Sirius and all his mercurial moods.

God he loves him.

“Alice and I have been shagging non stop,” Frank says, which works well enough to bring Sirius’s attention away from wanting to drag Remus behind the champaign fountain so to have his wicked way with him, and back to the conversation they’re all having; even if that means that instead of looking passive, Sirius is sneering over at Frank.

“Dacorum man.”

Frank apologizes, beyond glum. “We just don’t know what to do. The doctors say that we shouldn’t have this much difficulty with it, but we just checked before coming and still, nothing.”

“I’m sorry mate, that’s awful.” Remus tells him, and Dorcas nods along, but Sirius just rolls his eyes.

“We’re not even thirty yet for fuck’s sake,” he tells him. “Maybe ’s a sign for you both to stop trying to ruin your lives with a baby.”

“Shut it Sirius,” Dorcas hisses, kicking at his ankle hard enough to make him wince.

“Ouch, hey! I’m just saying, a kid’s a lot of responsibility, and commitment.”

“I’ve been with Alice since we were seventeen Black,” Frank tells him hotly . “I think I’m already properly committed.”

“Then what’s the point of the kid!”

Frank raises his brows, floundering with no words as if he just could not comprehend Sirius and all his Sirius-ness, which is fair, the only two people who’s been able to do as much turned out being his brother, (James), and his lover, (Remus)… Speaking of which…

“I’m sorry he’s acting like such an arse Frank, he doesn’t mean it.” the sandy blonde says cooly, giving Sirius one of his looks that he usually keeps designated for his more rowdy students. “Do you.”

Sirius glares at him before looking back at Frank and nodding stiffly. “Sorry mate, you and Flores would be marvelous parents, I’m just being prickish.”

“Nothing knew then,” Frank says, but it’s coupled with an amiable grin so Sirius knows he’s off the hook.

“Right, well why don’t I make it up to you by grabbing you a drink? Yeah?”

“See if they’ve got an iced white?”

“Me too Black,” Dorcas scoffs, doesn’t even bother to look at him to make the command.

“Righto,” Sirius claps Frank’s shoulder with a friendly squeeze, winking at Dorcas and glancing over at Remus before he goes. “Vodka tonic?”

“With lemon please.”

Sirius nods, still pecks him on the lips even if they’re sorta in a fight, as if Sirius could ever stay away for too long.

By the grace of God, the open bar is mostly vacant, except for a familiar head of messy hair he’s considered family for over half his life.

“All right Prongs?”

James pivots around, drinks already in hand and grinning at the sight of him. “Wow, didn’t even recognize you for a tick there Pads, you don’t even have your hand plastered to Moony’s bum!.”

Sirius smirks, tossing him a covert two finger salute as he saddles up besides him and orders the round of drinks. “What can I say Prongsy, the cheeky bugger made me vow to have it there constantly, can’t just jilt my bloke like that, can I?”

James grimaces with a roll of the eyes, and Sirius’s far accustomed to that look of exasperation from him by now. “You’re a mutt.”

“Would you believe you aren’t the first person to say that to me within the last hour?”

“God save our poor Moony.”

“Oh God doesn’t have to worry, I’m taking care of him just fine.”

“Are you being gross about my best friend,” Lily asks as she struts up towards them, looking like an absolute diamond, even if her nose is wrinkled indelicately.

“Aren’t I always in your opinion?” Sirius asks cheekily, trying to balance the four drinks in his grasp before she just rolls her eyes and grabs the flutes of wine for Frank and Dorcas.

“Your impossible prat-ness aside, I actually think you being all grossly territorial over Remus tonight is actually a good thing.”

“THat’s a first,” James says, but Sirius can only glare, suspicious.

“Why’s that? Oi! Don’t tell me that absolute plonker Dearborn is here!”

“Oh God no,” Lily startles, shaking her head as if the thought was too insane to even fathom. “’S just the firm’s just hired this new bloke and I’m really quite positive that he’s Rem’s soulmate.”

“Lily! Don’t say that!” James balks, glancing over at Sirius worriedly, but he in turn only laughs at the magnitude of the statement.

“Jesus, Evans, didn’t think you believed in that ridiculous shite?”

“’S not ridiculous Sirius! And yeah, ‘course I do, like James and I are definitely soulmates.” She twists slightly so to kiss the curve of James’s jaw, making him go a bit blotchy. Poor git’s wrapped around her littlest finger.

“And what? You reckon Remus and I are just here to kill some time?”

“No, don’t be a pillock,” Lily reproves. “’s just he’s his soulmate is all.”

Okay, Sirius’s amusement has officially given way to irritation, and he twists his head so to scowl down at her as they make their way to the others. “Alright Evans, explain yourself then, yeah? Tell me how he’s Moony’s supposed soulmate.

“Well he’s French.”

“I speak French.”

“He’s got amazing, blonde hair.”

“I’ve got amazing, black hair.”

“He majored in literature just like Remus.” Lily says airily, knowing that Sirius can’t match that being an architect himself.

“Well— I read all that snotty shite Remus asks me too.” He huffs, and Lily answers with a shrug to her delicate shoulders.

“Fine then, I’m wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry bout.”

She struts off to their little lump of friends as if to cut the conversation off completely, and Sirius is perfectly find with that. She’s acting off her bloody rocker. But, if Sirius stands closer to Remus than usual for the rest of the night, or if he ends up kissing his temple whenever he feels like someone is watching them, or if he glares at one of the blokes working catering after deigning to offer Remus an empanada— Well that’s Sirius’s business and his alone. He’s not intimidated by this soulmate shite, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he’s trying to stave off the bastard or something. He does all of that simply because Remus is his husband now, and he loves getting to show that off to all onlookers, even the ones who may or may not be Remus’s soulmate.

“We’ve got dinner with Reggie and his latest girlfriend tonight,” Remus tells Sirius the following Tuesday, tossing the scarf his mother had gifted him last Christmas— with a matching one for Sirius— over his shoulder as they stroll around to the front of the Three Broomsticks for their morning coffees, hands linked and the early winter snow catching in both sets of their lashes.

And God does Sirius love the sound of that, of their schedules overlapping, becoming one almost. Loves the idea that where ever one goes the other follows. Sirius knows that they’ve both have their demons, from Sirius’s neglect and emotional abuse as a child— occasionally sprinkled with a good smack or two if his mother was particularly fuming. To Remus’s complex of never feeling like he can ever be enough, and the way Lyall had acted for years after Remus had come out to his parents as gay, coupled with his multiple hospital visits as a lad until they finally figured out his lupus diagnosis. But they’re better, so much fucking better now. Plenty of the credit going to the remarkable group of friends whom they’ve picked up along the way, but another huge chunk was finding one another, and Sirius knows it in his bones. Knows that there couldn’t be anyone else for him, and sure he knows Remus sometimes deserves more, deserves better— But he’s chosen him, he’s chosen Sirius. He loves Sirius. And it’s remarkable and unbelievable and amazing, and Sirius holds onto the sensation of it with hungry piety.

“Love? Did you hear that?”

Sirius jolts back to the moment, and smiles softly down at him, kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth in penance. “Yes, of course gorgeous. I didn’t forget, I’ll be home early and maybe we can have a lie down before leaving if you’ve finished grading those papers?”

Remus’s laugh right then is like the most splendid instrument Sirius has ever heard, light and magical and warm as a bonfire. “Try to be good and maybe.” He tells him with a cold fingered tapping of his nose before he flounces off to the main counter to order for them.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stares after him instead of grabbing the gang’s typical seats up front, but is startled when he hear’s a choked out noise coming from behind him and sees Lily, panic faced and eyes wandering frantically.

“Oi, what’s squirming up your arse Evans.” He asks her suspiciously, thick brows furrowed.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here,” she explains so quickly that her words begin to crash into one another. “Oh bloody hell, the one time I have a late start!”

She stomps her foot and Sirius shoots her a fully fledged glower. “What is making you so damn barmy for Christ’s sake.”

Lily parts her lips, but no noise comes out, because right then someone follows her indoors, a very familiar someone if only based off of descriptions. A very tall, very blonde, very smiley looking someone.

Sirius hates him right on sight.

“I’m sorry I took so long at that shop Lily, my mother loves these, how do you say, snow globes?” The stranger says, shaking one for emphasis with Big Ben set in the center.

“Ridiculous tourist trinkets is more like it,” Sirius practically snarls, which earns him a confused look by the blonde and a tired one by Lily.

“Right then, well Sirius this’s Thomas Martin, Thomas this is Sirius Black.”

“Lupin-Black now, ta Lils.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, blue eyes blinking wearily. “Nice to meet you, ah, Sirius.” He extends his hand, and when Sirius shakes it he makes sure to feel the bloke’s bones crushing together, just so he understands who exactly he’s speaking with.

The French arse eventually pulls away, pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint as he curls and stretches his fingers.

“Oh God,” Lily groans, leading them to their spot and depositing herself onto the sofa with absolute exasperation, and Sirius only continues to glare at Thomas as he sits besides her, growing stiffer once Remus returns.

“Oh, hiya Lils,” he smiles, handing Sirius his drink before flickering his gaze to the fucking Frenchman.

“‘lo love, this’s the newest hire at the firm, Thomas. Thomas, this’s my best mate, Remus.” She introduces quickly, the fucking trader.

“Remus?” Thomas asks, dimpling down at Sirius’s fucking husband with bright eyes. And Sirius has to curl his fists so not to punch him right in the sodding face, only growing angrier when Remus chuckles and ducks his head, like he was nervous by him! Like he thought he was in fact very good looking and very charming and his damn soulmate.

“Yeah, blame that on my mum, she was big into the classics.”

Thomas’s grin widens even more and Sirius feels the pulse on his neck beginning to throb. “No, it’s very charming. My Grandfather was very, erm, focussed on those studies as well? Begged my parents to name me Enkidu. They thankfully refused.”

Remus laughs fully now, and Sirius wants to a punch a wall. It took him literal months to make Remus laugh like that— genuine and glimmering and gorgeous. “Lucky bloke. Though I do have to admit that Gilgamesh is a favorite of mine, I think I’ve read the epic twenty times over.”

“Oh mine too,” the fucking Frenchman says, stepping closer to Remus and now in front of Sirius fully, gambling bravely that Sirius wouldn’t try to cap him right here. “If you ask me however, I do believe that he and Enkidu are more than just, friends.” His eyes flicker down to Remus’s lips for a split second and when he looks back up his face is positively leering.

Sirius sees red.

“God, so nice to finally talk to someone who gets it, the professors I work under are usually so painfully heteronormative that it’s crippling.” Remus tells him, smiling kindly.

“Oh, I’m the furthest away from that, I assure you.”

He winks! He fucking winks! Sirius swears to God! He sees the bastard winking at his husband! His fucking husband! What the bloody hell does he think that platinum band on Remus’s finger matching Sirius’s own is suppose to represent! Holy shit!

“I’d love to read anything you have on the subject, most things translated to French are a bit clunky.”

He’s trying to ask him out! Right here! Right in front of Sirius! Sirius is going to strangle his snail swallowing neck! Thankfully, Lily must sense his inner turmoil because she interjects their conversation right then, asking Thomas to grab her a jasmine tea.

“Oh yes of course,” he nods congenially, rounding back on Remus before he leaves. “Would you like a pastry? On me.”

Is he trying to ask Remus to eat it off of him? What the hell! It took nearly a year of them fucking for Sirius to get Remus to bring food in the bedroom, to get to watch Remus lick the chocolate syrup off his cock. And what? Does he think he’s even got a chance so quickly!

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Remus grins and a part of Sirius dies on the inside. “But I’ll come tag along, yeah? I love talking about this stuff and Sirius absolutely hates this ancient rubbish.”

“I do not! I think these dead blokes are very interesting,” he harrumphs, heated, with pouting lips and crossed arms. But Remus only tosses back his head with uninhibited laughter in response, which makes the fucking Frenchman beam that bit brighter.

“After you,” he says with a swish of the hand.

Sirius is going to be tried for murder, and he’s not even sorry about it.

“’s okay love,” Lily reassures him, patting his head dotingly. “We’ll find you someone new.”

“I hate you Evans!”

“Don’t blame the messenger!”

Sirius is about to tell her just how much he does exactly that, but then he catches on the fucking Frenchman putting his hand over Remus’s to prevent him from sliding over his card and all the fight leaves him in an instant.

Sirius ended up not even going to the on sight location for the latest project he’s heading at the firm. He instead spent the bulk of the morning and part of the afternoon grinding his teeth as Remus spoke and barbed and giggled with the fucking Frenchman, like he was enjoying himself. And it was torture, watching the way they naturally clicked and got on— Literal fucking torture.

Sirius is still fuming as they sit in front of his younger brother and his newest bird, a pretty girl named Amal, who’s just graduated from a posh, fashion institute in the north of France. And Christ it’s like he’s being bombarded with the idea of that country all day.

“God that must’ve been such a wonderful experience,” Remus says, smiling as she leans forwards with a grin, speaking louder over the chatter of the busy sushi joint they had all agreed upon.

“Oh yes, the cuisine was simply unmatched, even if I did end up missing London, being home and all. Though I’m afraid my French is seriously dwindling compared to my English and Arabic now.”

“You should ask Reggie to practice with you, I know I love it when Sirius speaks the language.” He winks right then, making Amal crow with laughter and Regulus roll his eyes fondly. But Sirius stays peeved off with his hinged jaw, absolutely seething.

“Bet my hopeless brother recites poetry to you and everything, rose in his mouth and all.”

Remus laughs and Sirius suddenly has the horrid image of the fucking Frenchman doing as much outside the window to their bedroom, and is furious all over again.

“Well Reggie, Remus here does fancy all things French, foods and wines and blokes and just the whole lot.”

“Well good, we have something in common,” Amal snickers, lacing her hand through Regulus’s own over the tabletop. Sirius and Remus haven’t held hands since the waitress brought out their drinks, and remembering as much makes Sirius take a swig of his ail, hating everything.

“Yes well, you can say it’s Remus’s soulmate, France I mean.” He says, words beginning to slur. “He’s meant for French food and wines and blokes, innit true love? You’d prefer a French bloke?”

Amal frowns and Regulus pins him with a one eyed squint, befuddled. But Sirius only gathers his wits about him when Remus clammers noisily out his chair and tugs on his arm to follow suit.

“Reg order us the specials yeah? And a round of spring rolls,” he instructs, words clipped, and a small dent peeking out between his brows, like it does when he’s especially annoyed. “C’mon Sirius we need to talk.”

“But that’d be awfully rude,” Sirius retorts, already hates the flat, fuming tone Remus is speaking with, and feels good and properly nervous for the impending argument.

“They have one another, ’s fine. Now let’s go.”

Sirius concedes and pretends it doesn’t feel like he’s being lead to the gallows.

“All right prick,” Remus huffs, rounding on Sirius right after he locks the door to the single user loo. “What has gotten you in such a bloody awful mood.”

Sirius sniffs, arms crossed against his chest and his head tilted imperiously. “I’m peachy.”

“You’ve been acting like an arse ever since we had coffee with Lily,” Remus counters, reproving.

“Actually love, if you didn’t notice, Lily left about halfway through you and the blonde’s little clucking session.”

Remus furrows his brows now, pillowy lips pinched and looking lost as hell. “You’re angry because Lily left for work?”

“Oh for bloody hell Remus!” Sirius erupts, tossing his arms in the air. “I’m angry because you met your ruddy soulmate and now you’re going to ride off into the sunset with’m and read French poetry together while eating cheese and bread and talking about highbrow shit like Aeneid!”

Remus startles backwards, long lashes flapping and mouth gaped open. “Oh Christ, you’ve gone absolutely barmy. You’re mad.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I feel like I should call someone about my husband going bloody mental.”

“I repeat. Not. Helping.”

“What in hell has convinced you that this random bloke is my soulmate?” Remus asks, back to being patient as ever.

“Lily!” Sirius shouts. “She told me that you and the fucking Frenchman are soulmates! And she’s right okay! She’s bloody spot on.”

Remus rolls back his entire head now, groaning out, “You are such an idiot.”

“Real nice Moons,” Sirius frowns, doesn’t even know how to feel now, the anger seeping out of him the longer he’s standing besides Remus, leaving an awful, clawing abandonment in its wake.

“Did you ever once think to ask me what I think of the damn concept of soulmates? Hmm?” He asks, single brow hiked with pure condescension.

And oh.

Sirius is stuck for a minute there, doesn’t see an out to the question. “Well…. Erm—“

“Well if you had asked, like a normal sodding bloke! I wold’ve told you that I married you because I know your my soulmate you arse! And it isn’t because of some ridiculous notion of stardust or providence or whatever else. It’s because we grew together, and we fight for one another, and even when you’re being a complete prick or we’re arguing like mad you’re the only one I want. Only person I can ever see myself with, the only person I want to try this hard for. The only fucking person I ever want to call my husband! My partner! lover!”

“Oh.” Sirius breathes out, all his fears being strangled by the conviction embedded into Remus’s words.

And it’s like all of Sirius’s insides melt, like all the adoration and love and reverence he holds for Remus is pooling in his stomach and threatening to pour out his every orifice. And God he can’t even inhale, only scrambles to lock his hands around Remus’s cheeks and press his head against Remus’s own.

“Yeah? You really think that.”

“Hell, I thought the wedding and all would’ve made that clear.”

Sirius chuckles, only lightly, his thumb dragging beneath Remus’s eye tenderly. “God I love you, so endlessly. Please forgive me for being an idiot?”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll keep you around,” Remus teases, bouncing on the balls of his feet to kiss Sirius’s nose and lock his arms around his neck, and the sensation of it— them knotted into one another— could never be replicated in a thousand years, not like this, not like them.

Other Wolfstar One Shots | Send Me A Prompt

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #harry potter series #spilt ink #FIC: Friends AU

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romanstickles · 4 years

Text

Still Bored?

Pairing: Logince

Summary: A very bored Roman disrupts Logan while he’s doing work in his room, demanding attention. Logan realizes Roman’s lee mood, and decides to cure both his mood and his boredom.

Warnings: None that I can think of!! Pure fluffiness in this household!

Word Count: 1025

Originally written for @kanene-yaaay! Love to my buddieeee :D

~ ~ ~

“Roman, you know I love you dearly,however, I request that you desist from your rampant rampage all across the room. I am attempting to finish some paperwork, and it must be completed today.”

Roman stared back before huffing indignantly at his lover, clearly dissatisfied with the amount of attention he was receiving. “Logaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan~” Roman drawled out, almost whining, rather pitifully. “Play with meeeee- I’m positively dying from boredom, and with Patton’s new rule of ‘no monster fighting’ without one of you accompanying me, I’ve got absolutely nothing to do!”

Logan pinched his nose, huffing, and only just managing to avoid the temptation of completing rather unpleasant strangling of his boyfriend. He quirked his eyebrow, rolling his eyes, albeit rather fondly, at Roman. As insufferable as the Prince was, he was quite fondly attached to him.

“Okay, well, what exactly were you going to suggest that we play, Roman? Do you perhaps have any particular activity in mind?” Logan recalled the little hints coming from Roman that day. The fidgety-ness, the restlessness, the fact that he had been on edge nearly the whole day. Roman had even had his little spurts of giggles.

Roman slowly felt his face grow red, as his eyes widened. “I…” he trailed off, growing a bit shy, but being unable to hide the slight little smile that was currently worming itself upon his face.

Logan rolled his eyes before walking over to his boyfriend and sitting beside him on the bed.

Roman hummed a random tune lightly, avoiding eye contact with Logan.

He was insanely, undeniably ticklish. And, Logan knew that. Now, let’s be fair, Logan held his fair share of ticklishness as well, but Roman... Oh, but Roman. That boy was quite possibly the most ticklish one in the mind palace, despite everyone’s previous assumption of it being Virgil. Roman was just a walking bundle of ticklishness. He supposed it was due to him being more well-toned than most of the others, due to all of his adventures. The more muscular he was, it seemed, the more ticklish he became.

Roman, in an attempt to spare himself some dignity, continued his original statement. “I-I just...I’mimabitofaleemood!” he hurried out, scrambling to get the words out before he decided to take them back.

Logan smirked, dragging the royal’s feet into his lap. “Well, why did you not mention this earlier, Roman? You know I am always willing to participate in your shenanigans, frivolous as they may be.”

Roman flinched, before giggling. Oh, so Logan was going less along the lines of a tickle fight, like expected, and more along the lines of a Tickling-Roman-Frenzy. This was quite alright with Roman and Logan both.

Logan felt Roman tense, and he glanced up, suppressing a smile, and he knew that this was exactly what Roman was wanting at that particular moment.

Logan, grinning, began lightly wiggling his fingers underneath Roman’s toes.

Roman snickered softly, and gently shoved at Logan’s hands.

Logan smirked slightly, glancing towards Roman. “Whatever could be wrong, hm? This is what you wanted, correct?”

Roman covered his face with his hands, blushing, and giggling sweetly, exactly as a royal should.

Logan scratched across Roman’s heels, and Roman squeaked lightly, and quickly tugged his feet away from Logan.

Logan fondly rolled his eyes and tugged Roman back down by the ankles, readjusting the both of them so that he was now sitting and straddling Roman’s hips.

“Why hello, Logan.”

“Hello, Roman.”

“Lovely day today, isn’t it?”

“Do not try that. You asked me to tickle you, and it is my intention to do exactly that.”

Roman bit his lip lightly, before giggling again. He really was too cute when he got like this, if Logan did say so himself. And he did- say so himself, that is.

Roman broke into giggles as he felt ten fingers all simultaneously wiggling into his sides. “Nononononono! Ihihit tihick-tihihic-!”

Logan smirked. “Tickles? Well, I definitely hope so, Roman. If it didn’t, I believe that would defeat the purpose of me tickling you.”

Roman flushed bright red when he heard that word being used against him so deviously. “Dohohon’t sahay ihihit! Yohohou knohow I cahan’t deal wihith ihihit!”

Logan cracked a smile. “What? ‘Tickle’? Is ‘Tickle’ the word you’re talking about? I promise it’s just a word to describe what I’m doing now to you right now. It cannot harm you in any way.”

Roman snorted when he felt two thumbs drill into his hips. “NOHOHO!”

“Something wrong, Roman?”

“Nohohohoho!”

“‘No’ what, exactly, Roman?”

Logan simply chuckled darkly, in a very un-Logan-like way.

Roman covered his grin and giggled. He watched as Logan wiggled his fingers above Roman’s tummy, Logan watching as well as Roman’s eyes followed his fingers carefully. Logan smiled when Roman giggled, wiggling slightly in place.

“What’s wrong, Roman? I haven’t even touched you yet.” Logan held a certain twinkle in his eyes that showed his sincere love for the other.

Suddenly, the fingers resting just above Roman’s tummy touched down, scribbling rapidly across the sensitive flesh.

Roman fell into helpless giggles. “Ah! Nohohoho, Logahan!”

Logan halted his wiggling fingers before pulling the other into his lap, holding him there. Logan ran his fingers through Roman’s hair, soothing the other in his fit of post-tickle residual giggles.

“Well,” Logan started, a genuine smile still having a ghost of a presence on his lips. “Are you still dying of boredom, Roman?”

Roman scoffed playfully at Logan’s question, swatting at his boyfriend’s shoulder. “No, no, I’m very much not bored, Logan. Thank you for checking, Pocket-Protector.”

Logan tugged forward to rest his face above Roman’s. He smirked, still gently playing with Roman’s locks. “You know, Roman, I am sincerely glad that I have the absolute most ticklish boyfriend on the planet. It is, quite honestly, very adorable, Roman.”

Roman growled playfully, before shoving Logan back onto his back.

“Oh, you’re gonna get tickles too! I’m not the only adorable one!”

Needless to say, the rest of the afternoon in the mind palace was filled with lots of giggles and squeals from both boys, especially after Roman got in some not-exactly-revenge tickles to his boyfriend.

#logince #ts sides #ts logan #ts roman #tickles #ts tickles #roman sanders #logan sanders #lee!roman #ler!logan #elliott's fics

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sambergscott · 4 years

Text

i'd wait forever and a day for you

summary: post-trying // jake is on an undercover mission and amy thinks she’s pregnant.

(you should read this just for the last line tbh)

Her period is late.

At first, she attributes it to stress. Jake is on a major undercover operation and while she is an incredibly proud, supportive wife, she knows how dangerous the situation is. He’s a great cop -- one of New York’s finest, in both senses of the word (...he’s hot) -- and he was so excited about getting this assignment. And she’s excited for him -- really, she is. But with updates filtering through to Captain Holt at a snail’s pace, it’s impossible not to worry about him, where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s safe. Her cycle was shot to hell when he was in Witness Protection in Florida and it is entirely possible that history is repeating itself.

Four days pass, Jake is still undercover and her period still has not arrived. She tries to blame Hitchcock’s God-awful Zika cologne disrupting her cycle again until she remembers that both Hitchcock and Scully have been off work all week with food poisoning. She even Googles why is my period late?, quickly closing the tab and deleting her browser history when the first result that pops up is pregnancy.

There’s no way she’s pregnant. She refuses to even consider it for a second.

Despite her absolute certainty that her uterus is as empty as it’s always been, when Rosa invites her for drinks with her new boyfriend, Amy opts for a non-alcoholic beer.

“I’m driving,” she explains at Rosa’s raised eyebrows and swiftly changes the conversation. She finds out that Rosa’s boyfriend is a mechanic and they hit it off when she took her motorbike in for repair. She talks about Jake, about how he’s her favourite person in the entire world and how much she misses him (A Lot). He asks her what it’s like dating a cop and how to deal with the person you love putting themselves in danger every single day, which makes Rosa blush. Amy has never seen her blush before.

“It’s difficult,” she says truthfully. She hates seeing her husband hurting and being thrown in prison for crimes he didn’t commit and having guns pointed at his head. It’s why she instated the short-lived ‘no dating cops’ rule, before Jake kissed her and she decided screw it. “But it’s worth it. When you really love them, it’s worth the pain. Every second.”

“That’s what I thought,” he responds, looking at Rosa the way Jake looks at Amy.

She finishes her drink (which is so not as good as its alcoholic counterpart) and gathers her coat and purse. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. See you Monday,” she directs at Rosa and “it was nice to meet you” at her boyfriend, who she has a feeling might be sticking around for a while.

She opens up her Messages app and types out a full paragraph to Jake about how she met Rosa’s boyfriend before him and how he’s really nice and makes her blush! Rosa Disz!!! Blushing!!! She adds a gif of Jonathan Van Ness saying “can you believe?” and is about to click send when she realises his phone is on his nightstand where he left it before his mission and puts her phone back in her pocket in dismay.

Once home, she gets changed into one of his NYPD t-shirts and climbs straight into bed, crying herself to sleep.

She wakes up bright and early the next morning, a feat that is made significantly easier when there is no super cute husband to snuggle with. She showers, pulls on leggings and one of his plaid shirts and gets started on her Sunday Chores. Dancing around the apartment and pretending the mop is a microphone stand is a lot less fun on her own and she overcompensates, making herself dizzy and throwing up in the toilet she just cleaned.

Without thinking, she finds herself at the bodega on the corner, staring at the selection of pregnancy tests. She grabs three of the safest looking ones and bites her lip when the guy congratulates her as she pays. She’s wasted hundreds of dollars on pregnancy tests thus far and she knows she’s definitely wasting money on these ones too. She doesn’t need congratulating for making poor financial decisions and being bad at making babies, but she thanks him anyway.

Back at the apartment, she dumps the paper bag on the kitchen counter to deal with later. She makes a cup of tea, calls her mom and fills in The Times crossword. The paper bag screams out to her the entire time.

Reluctantly, she removes the boxes from the bag, fully intending to put them away in the back of the bathroom cabinet, out of sight.

A niggling voice tells her to just open one and find out.

She has the box open and the test in her hand when her phone buzzes with a text from Holt informing her that Jake is safe and the mission is going well.

She drops the test like it burnt her skin.

Jake. She can’t do this without him. If she is pregnant, she’d never forgive herself for finding out without him, for stripping him of that moment they’d been dreaming of forever.

She’s waited this long, she can wait a few more days. And she’s probably not pregnant anyway.

She ends up waiting two more weeks.

It’s torture.

She’s throwing up almost daily, crying in the break room for no apparent reason and her damn period has still not come. All symptoms which could be explained away by a lack of Jake Peralta and stress (due to missing the aforementioned Jake Peralta).

Rosa corners her in the ladies bathroom and asks if she wants her to run out for more pregnancy tests.

“I already have some at home.”

“And?” She prompts. “Did you take them? Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know.” She tries to play it off as no big deal, but Rosa knows her pretty well these days.

“You’ve been trying for nearly a year, there’s a chance you are finally pregnant and you haven’t taken a test?”

“I can’t -- I want to -- Jake --.”

“Oh,” it dawns on her.

“Yeah,” Amy sighs. “I’ve been staring at the tests every night but I just can’t. Not without him. He’d be devastated.”

“He would not be devastated if you were pregnant, Amy Santiago.”

“You know what I mean. He’d want to be have been there. I want him to be there.”

“I guess he needs to hurry the hell up and catch the bad guys then.”

He must have heard her because, hours later, the elevator door opens and there he is, exhausted and still in his weird undercover clothes, with the biggest smile on his face.

She practically throws herself at him and, yeah, maybe she kisses him in a not-very-work-appropriate way and maybe some of the perps in the holding cell wolf whistle and maybe Charles is crying, but he is home and she can finally take those pregnancy tests.

Holt allows her to clock out early (she makes a mental note to buy him a glass of Charbonnay the next time they go to Shaw’s) and Jake excitedly tells her all about the case, barely taking a second to breathe.

“Sounds fun, babe,” she says when he gets to the part of the story when he handcuffed the bad guys and then made out with this super hot chick in front of all his co-workers.

“It was awesome,” he confirms. “What about you? What have you been up to? I missed you so much.”

“Aw,” she smiles, rubbing her hand over his thigh as he drives, “I missed you so much, too. As for what I’ve been up to, I’ve mostly just been kind of sick.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I... um... actually think I might be pregnant.”

He swerves suddenly, nearly crashing the car. Ignoring the cars around them honking, he focuses on his wife. “Pregnant?”

“My period is nearly three weeks late, I’ve been throwing up and I’ve been extra emotional,” she debriefs him.

“Right. OK.” He takes a deep breath. “Have you taken a test?”

“I bought three but I couldn’t take them without you. It’s kind of been killing me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he laughs, pulling over in front of their apartment. Neither of them move. “We should probably take them now.”

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“You nervous?”

“Yeah,” she says again. She’s lost count of how many negative tests they’ve seen, how many times she’s felt that familiar crushing disappointment. The thought of going through it all over again...

“I understand. We can wait, if you want. Or we could rip the band-aid off, let the scab bleed all over the place. I’ll hold your hand.”

There’s this reassuring look in his eyes that she’s seen a million times over from back when they were newly-assigned partners and he was reassuring her they would solve a tough case to that time on the roof of 397 Barton Street when he said he always knew she was going to be his boss to his speech at Hitchcock’s (second) divorce party when he told her that they are a family and that they can take whatever ‘next step’ she wants because as long as they’re together, he’s happy.

Because it’s him, she nods. “Let’s do this.”

The wait for the timer to go off seems longer than ever. She squeezes his hand so tight she thinks she might cut off the circulation, but he doesn’t complain, just keeps talking about how they’ll be fine, no matter what the result.

The timer eventually goes off and she picks up the test and starts crying immediately.

Jake hugs her tight and she can feel him crying too and this is so crazy and insane and good.

“We’re having a baby,” he says in awe and it’s the best thing Amy’s ever heard.

“We’re having a baby!” She repeats, half-laughing, half-crying.

She yelps as he lifts her up and spins her around their tiny bathroom before kissing her tenderly.

“I can’t believe this,” he exclaims when he pulls away, rubbing his hand over his face, “can you?”

“Nope.” She grins, kissing him again.

#my writing #b99 fic #jake x amy #hope this gives you all the feels it gave me as i was writing it

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lumiolivierlithium · 3 years

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The Good Old Days Chapter Seventeen: Party at Vanessa's

A/N: Oh, you guys. I hammered this chapter out yesterday and good gravy, is it about to be a shit storm. I'm actually really happy with how it turned out and I hope you like it, too. Love you. x

ICYMI:

Chapter Sixteen: Perfect

Chapter Fifteen: Say It

It’s weird as hell being on this side of a party like this. I had no shame. I’ve worked these parties before for the sake of a little extra cash. Granted, those days were behind me, but I still felt for these poor sons of bitches that were enduring verbal abuse for the paycheck. I look back on those days that weren’t too distant and internally cringe. I think back to my last day at the restaurant and nearly throw up. I think of my last customer I ever dealt with and thank God the Old Man got me out of there. I’ll make sure to tip nicely. Although, the staff may not be the only ones in need of my sympathy tonight.

I caught a glimpse of the angel on my left. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Vanessa was about to throw up. This better not end up a fucking repeat of the night I had to get Veronica out of a mess. I gave her a little nudge, just to snap her out of wherever her head was, “Vanessa? You doing ok?”

“Me?” she chirped, “Yeah. Super. But you know what could make it better?”

“What’s that?” I think I had a feeling where this was going.

Vanessa laced her fingers between mine, “Let’s go get a drink.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she snuck in a quick kiss while no one was looking. I think I’ll keep this one around for a while. Just a little while. Once we got to the bar, she wouldn’t even let me order, “Cuba Libre. Two of them. Big ones. Heavy on the lime juice in one.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I already had a fifty crawling its way out of my pocket.

“Frankie, what the hell?” Vanessa wondered, “It’s an open bar.”

“Trust me,” I shuddered, “I know what it’s like being on the other side of this. He needs it.”

“Ok,” she wrapped herself around my arm.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” I worried, lifting her chin up. As if I didn’t already know what plagued her.

“I’m nervous as hell,” Vanessa confessed, “I just hope they give you a chance. I don’t ever ask them for much.”

“I told you, baby,” I hugged her tight, “We got nothing to worry about. It’s not often the Spanish charms ever fail me. We’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Here you are, Miss Scarlotti,” the bartender smiled politely, sliding the glasses across the bar, “The one on the left is the heavy lime.”

“Thank you,” I grabbed the glasses and slipped him the fifty.

“Oh, no…” he gasped, “I can’t take…”

“I know you can’t,” I settled him, “Consider it a gift from a friend.”

“Thank you.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the guy was on the verge of tears, “Thank you so much.”

“You know what?” I took the fifty back, “I can’t do that, man.”

“What the fuck?” Vanessa gasped.

“Hold on,” I put the fifty back. I saw the look on this guy’s face when he saw the fifty come out. I couldn’t do that to him. I shook the guy’s hand, making sure he felt the hundred I put in there, “That should do it a little better.”

And there they were. The waterworks that shouldn’t have to happen, but here we are, “Thank you so much.”

“No problem, man,” I knew exactly where he came from. And if I got out of it, I hoped to all things holy he did, too.

“You know, Frankie,” Vanessa smiled as we walked away from the bar, “That was really sweet of you.”

“That shit sucks,” I admitted, “Believe me. Been there. Done that. You should’ve been there my last day of work before I started working for the Old Man. There was a woman that was absolutely insufferable. Drove me fucking insane. Real pretentious type.”

“Um…” she winced, “Frankie…You might want to look around at where we are…Pretentious types are a stone’s throw here.”

“Yeah,” I bit my tongue, “Sorry. But you know as well as I do you’re not the pretentious type.”

“And clearly,” Vanessa awed, “Neither are you.”

“Too humble for that,” I kissed the top of her head, “We don’t need to go to the roof already, do we?”

“No,” she shook her head, “I think we got this handled. Besides, after the first drink, I should be ok again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Promise.”

“Frankie!” There was my familiarity. There was the excitable squeal I needed to hear tonight. Vanessa’s drink would take care of her nerves and that voice would take care of mine.

“Veronica!” I caught her as she decided to jump into my arms, her legs wrapped around me, “Hi, kiddo. How you feeling?”

“Right as rain,” she cuddled into my shoulder, “I’m so glad you’re here. I fucking hate these things.”

“I can’t blame you,” I put her back on the floor.

“Neither can I,” Vanessa kept her voice down, “But we put up with them, don’t we?”

“Somehow,” Veronica scoffed, “Usually, these parties turn into Vanessa and me finding a cozy perch to watch the shitstorm go down and heckle Waldorf and Statler style, but here you are. And I know damn well you’re going to heckle, too.”

“Oh, you know it.” When I’m amongst them, there’s no fucking way I’m going to be able to keep my mouth totally shut tonight. I’d explode.

“Hey, Veronica,” Vanessa asked, “Have you seen Mom and Dad tonight?”

“Not yet,” Veronica shook her head, “I’ve been avoiding our parents like the plague tonight. I got better shit to worry about.”

“I can’t blame you,” Vanessa agreed.

“But you know what?” Veronica thought, “I could use a drink…Right? Ness…? Please?”

“No,” Vanessa shot her down, “Not after last time.”

“What happened last time?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“She gets sloppy when she’s drunk,” Vanessa threw her under the bus, “The last time she got drunk at a party like this, she cut the skirt of her dress off and threatened everyone and anyone with her heels. When we drink, it’s in a much more lowkey setting, so she doesn’t snap and kill us all.”

“One’s not going to kill me, Vanessa,” Veronica grumbled, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, “I can handle myself.”

“And the next morning,” Vanessa added, “She’s a hungover mess and I have to be the one to take care of her. Not to mention, I’m the one that gets the ass chewing for not keeping a better eye on you. So, no. I’m not getting you a drink.”

“You know, Vanessa,” I awed, pulling her into my arms, “You’re a good sister. You remind me a lot of myself with my brothers.”

“It’s exhausting,” she cuddled into my shoulder. While I held my drink behind her back. I shot a quick look toward Veronica and nodded toward my unattended straw. She knew what I was doing and got herself a good, long drink from it.

“I have no doubt,” I gave Veronica a little wink. One little drink won’t kill her. And I know it’s good.

“Hey, Vanessa,” Veronica licked the last little bit from her lips.

“What?” Vanessa pulled herself together while I got my own drink.

“Marry him.”

And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t choking on my drink. But I don’t think Vanessa was too far off either, “Jesus Christ, Veronica. We just started dating! We are leaps and bounds away from even giving marriage a thought.”

“I stand by what I said,” Veronica wasn’t budging. At least I know that if we were to get married, I’d adore my sister-in-law. One of them anyway. I still haven’t met Violet, but I have a feeling I’ll meet her sometime tonight, too.

“I don’t know, Vanessa,” I threw an arm around me, “I’ll keep you if you keep me.”

“You’re alright,” Vanessa scored a quick little kiss, “I guess I’ll keep you.”

“You guess?” I teased.

“Yeah.” Oh, I like this one, “Stay close to me.”

“My pleasure.”

“Vanessa,” a small, angry Young Republican came up to us. She looked like she would call INS on me in a heartbeat. I got my citizenship, kariña, “Mom’s looking for you.”

“Yay,” Vanessa winced, “Where is she?”

“She’s over by the piano,” she looked me over, “Um…Excuse me…Shouldn’t you be working?”

And there it was, “Um…”

“And,” she looked down at the glass in my hand, “You’re drinking on the job?”

“Um…”

“I’m sorry,” she scoffed, “Do you not speak English? Vanessa, you speak three languages. Can you tell him?”

Then, things started to click in my head. And I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face, “Debes ser Violeta, verdad?”

“Si,” Vanessa stared down at the floor, ready to kill her sister. I knew she wasn’t going to like me. And I knew she was going to be like this. I’m not surprised.

“And who are you?” Violet wondered.

Vanessa let out a heavy, exasperated (and possibly embarrassed) sigh, “Frankie, this is my sister Violet. Violet…This is Frankie.”

“Is he…?” Violet didn’t seem too interested, but at the same time, she had a vein sticking out of her forehead, “Mom’s still looking for you, Vanessa.”

“Oh…” Vanessa grumbled, “Ok.”

“Veronica,” Vanessa ordered, “You stay here.”

“Got it,” Veronica wasn’t moving. Thank God. That’s comforting.

“I’ll be right back,” Vanessa promised. I know she will. I wasn’t worried. Although, something about Violet made me a little twitchy.

Especially when she decided to get uncomfortably close and in my face, “Look. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, sniffing around Vanessa. She’s a blue blood and you’re…Not.”

“Ok.” She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. I know I’m not a blue blood and quite frankly, I didn’t care.

“She’s better off without you dragging her down,” Violet assured me with her undeserved sense of righteousness.

“Hey,” I pointed out, “It’s all good. I’m a trust fund baby, too.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” I thought Veronica was going to have a heart attack, “SINCE FUCKING WHEN?!”

“A while now.” At least I’m pretty sure the Old Man would call me a trust fund baby. My brothers call me a sugar baby, but I think there’s a trust fund involved. Especially when along with that trust fund comes not only a shitload of money coming my way, but the controlling stake of New York. Good times.

“Oh,” Violet still didn’t like me. And I was ok with that. I wasn’t heartbroken. I wasn’t after Violet. I was after her sister. She walked away and left Veronica and me to our devices.

“Isn’t she a charmer?” I teased.

“Oh, yeah,” Veronica confirmed, “She’s like hugging a cactus. Violet is ALL our mother. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she reproduced asexually. Dad wasn’t even there. It’s either that or she threw herself in the dryer that also happened to be linked to human cloning somehow and out came Violet. It makes for an interesting Thanksgiving.”

“I’m sure it does,” I shuddered at the very thought of it, “If it makes you feel any better, Veronica, you’re more than welcome to come to my house for Thanksgiving.”

“I love you, Frankie,” she wrapped herself around my arm, “God, I hope my sister marries you. If she doesn’t, fuck, I will.”

“I thought you said we weren’t on the same team.” I made sure I kept my voice down. I don’t know how many people Veronica was out to yet. I wasn’t going to be that asshole.

“We’re not,” Veronica confirmed, “But I’m just saying.”

“I love you, too, Veronica,” I threw an arm around her shoulders. I could get used to this. A beautiful woman that had my heart. A precious little angel with a crooked halo and a bark the size of her bite. I mean, I could take or leave Violet at this point, but this was alright. And along with that angel with the crooked halo, she was going to need the bad influence big brother, too, “Hey…See the guy at the bar? The one that looks like he just got done crying?”

“Yeah,” Veronica followed me, “What about him?”

“Tell him Mr. Franklin sent you,” I explained, “He’ll know who you’re talking about. He’ll score you a drink.”

“Seriously?” she gasped.

“Don’t get sloppy,” I shoved my finger in her face, “And…Don’t tell Vanessa. I don’t need her pissed off at me.”

Without another thought, Veronica’s arms went around my neck, “Thanks, Frankie.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I DO!” Oh, shit…That didn’t sound good. Speaking of Vanessa, she grabbed my hand, “Come with me.”

“Vanessa,” I stumbled behind her, “What’s wrong?”

“The way the aristocracy is run,” she grumbled, dragging me over to an older woman that…Uh-oh…Oh, Vanessa…Please tell me she’s not who I think she is. Please, for the love of God, tell me she’s not who I think she is.

“YOU!” the woman snapped at me. I didn’t make it a habit to call a woman bitch, but did this bitch deserve it. She knew what she did to me. She knew damn well that Shiraz was the year she asked for. She knew there was no difference. She just wanted to be a massive pain in my ass. But in the end, I couldn’t hate her. Because of her, she was the push I needed to call the Old Man. She was the one to put me in that path. And now, I went from nervous to pissed to delightfully petty all in the span of a couple minutes.

“Me,” I beamed, absolutely loving every second of this, “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Why are you in my house?” she scoffed.

“I was invited,” I told her, leaning over to Vanessa, “Es esta tu madre, mi amor?”

“Si, Francisco…” Vanessa bit her lip. Huh…Vanessa’s never called me Francisco before…Is it weird if I kind of like it? Because I kind of like it, “Ella es.”

“Oh, no…” her eyes started glowing, “No, no, no. Vanessa, I know you said you had a boyfriend, but tell me it’s not…Him.”

“Yes, Mom,” Vanessa admitted, taking my hand. And squeezing the shit out of it. Christ, Vanessa, you need to unclench, “This is Frankie. Frankie, this is my mother, Victoria.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I did my best to kill her with kindness. Because chances are, if I’m nothing but a sweetheart to her, it’ll only piss her off that much more.

“Whatever phase you’re going through, Vanessa,” Victoria growled, glaring a hole through me, “Make it quick. And when you’re ready, I’ll introduce you to someone better. Someone much better.”

“If you say so,” Vanessa grumbled. She grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me behind her yet again, “Ven aca.”

“Vanessa?” I couldn’t keep up with her. Don’t get me wrong. Nothing tickles me more than the bitch from the restaurant having to deal with me after getting the satisfaction of making me quit, but not like this. Not if it puts Vanessa in this kind of position. And she wouldn’t say a word to me. But she did steal a bottle of Cabernet on her way through, “Vanessa? Where are we going?”

“Roof,” she growled. Ok. I see her mother isn’t the only one pissed. Someone set Vanessa off. And if we’re being honest here, I’m a little scared. I’ve never seen Vanessa get this mad before. Upset and damn near in tears? Yeah. I’ve seen that. But this was different. This was downright pissed. And it’s bad enough to where she needs to go to the roof. I thought that would’ve been a me thing, but here we are. After a trek through the house and three flights of stairs, the cool night air hit us both with a panoramic view of the Scarlotti estate. Alright. I can see why Vanessa likes it up here.

“Vanessa…?” I treaded lightly. The last thing I wanted to do was dig her deeper in the hole, “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I fucking hate when she does this to me,” Vanessa popped the cork on the wine with her teeth. Her being pissed aside, it was kind of hot, “Absolutely fucking hate it.”

“What did she do?” I asked, pulling her down to my lap.

“I can’t be in love,” she took a heavy drink from the bottle. If it’s empty by the time we leave the roof, I won’t be surprised, “I’m not allowed. I’m not allowed to have a little scrap of happiness without her getting her fucking fingers in it. I have to be miserable. Like it’s my goddamn birthright. Do you know what she tried doing?”

“Wha…”

“She tried setting me up, Frankie,” her tirade raged on, “She tried setting me up with some pain in the ass, stuck-up, aristocratic prick and the second I told her I had a boyfriend, she lost her shit. Because she didn’t approve of this. She didn’t heavily screen you or run a background check. She didn’t have any say in it. You were completely and one hundred percent my decision and I couldn’t have been happier with it. Do you know why I decided to spend my trust fund on my education?”

“Because it was yours to spend how you wanted?” I figured, taking a second to appreciate the fact that I was Vanessa’s good decision.

“Because it’s the one fucking thing she can’t take from me,” Vanessa growled, “She tries to take my love life from me, so I’ll be damned if she tries to take knowledge from me, too. She didn’t care where I got in as long as it was ivy league because heaven forbid I’m the stain on the Scarlotti family tapestry.”

“Vanessa,” I wrapped my arms around her, never wanting to let her go, “You are far from the stain on the Scarlotti tapestry. And she can’t take your love life from you either. I won’t let her. And if you think I’d go down without a fight when you’re on the line, your mother is sorely mistaken. Don’t you worry, baby. I will be glad to fight for you if I have to.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” Vanessa laid her head in my shoulder, “I just…I’m so fucking sick of being under someone’s thumb. And under a microscope.”

“I know,” I gave her a gentle kiss, “I know. But your mom seems like a treat.”

“She is,” she rolled her eyes, “I love her. Really, I do. But then, she pulls shit like this and makes it a little more difficult to love her. And in a way, I was kind of blissfully unaware of just how bad she could be until recently.”

“What was recently?” I wondered.

“I met yours,” Vanessa cuddled into me, “I don’t know what it is about your mom, but Sariña is so fucking sweet.”

“Mama’s been through some shit,” I admitted, “But she came out of it on the other side. And that’s what made her so wonderful. I’ve been through some shit, too.”

“And that’s what made you,” she took another hit from the wine bottle, “I know. But damn, that gets hard after a while. I just want to relax for a while. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Well,” I thought it over, “You want to stay up here for the rest of the night?”

“I don’t know…”

But then, in a stroke of genius, I had an idea, “Hold on. Let me go make a quick call. Do you mind if I use your phone?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll be right back,” I kissed her forehead and stole a quick drink of her Cabernet. I wasn’t usually the type for wine, but tonight, anything goes. I snuck inside and found the nearest phone I could. It sat in a little nook in the hallway. Come on, you son of a bitch, pick up. I know you’re in the office tonight. Don’t you dare let this go to your answering machine.

“Yeah?” Never in my life have I ever been so relieved to hear his voice.

“Old Man, I need a favor,” I leaned up against the wall, “And a really big one.”

“That’s what I’m here for, kid,” the Old Man assured me, “What’s up?”

“Do we have somewhere nice in Manhattan?” I asked, “Or at least in the near vicinity? Somewhere someone could, say, crash for the night if need be?”

“We got somewhere in Manhattan,” he confirmed, “Why? Not staying with Vanessa tonight?”

“Quite the contrary,” I winced, “Look. Shit with her parents went kind of sideways. She’s pissed off and needs to be away from the house for the rest of the night. I’ll explain everything later. I just need a place where we can lay low for the night.”

“There’s a place on Fifth Street,” the Old Man told me, “It’s a big, beautiful hotel. Drop my name at reception and they’ll treat you well. I’m sorry to hear Vanessa’s parents were assholes.”

“It wasn’t her dad so much,” I didn’t even get to meet her dad, “It’s her mother.”

“Kind of figured,” he cringed, “But let’s not get into that. Go ahead and take your girl somewhere nice for the night.”

“Thanks, Old Man,” I could breathe a hell of a lot easier, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Frankie.”

Click.

I like him. He’s alright. And he’s helping me score brownie points with Vanessa. I’m not complaining. I walked back out on the roof and found the Cabernet bottle empty. Along with Vanessa’s legs dangling over the gutters. I made sure to grab her hand, “Jesus Christ, Vanessa. Are you trying to put me in the hospital?”

“No,” Vanessa was perfectly calm about this, “It’s not the first time I’ve done that, Frankie. I’m alright. I promise. What was the phone call all about?”

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested, “I got a hotel room on Fifth waiting for us.”

Without hesitation, Vanessa bounced onto her feet and threw her arms around my neck. And I knew damn well I was about to have smeared mascara on my jacket, “Thank you, Frankie.”

“You’re welcome,” I held her tight. She didn’t want to be under anyone’s thumb. She didn’t need to be under anyone’s thumb. In a way, we’ve both been held down by what we are. Granted, one of us has a little more affluence than the other, but she couldn’t help that. It’s what she was born into. It’s not like she asked for it. But on our way out, she managed to catch Veronica trying to score another drink.

“Hey, hey!” Vanessa stopped her, slamming the Cuba Libre in her hand, “Who said you could drink tonight, Veronica?”

“Sorry,” Veronica wasn’t going to throw me under the bus. And I loved her for it.

“Hey,” Vanessa fell into me, but not enough to call too much attention, “We’re getting out of here. Do you think you could crash in my room tonight in case someone gets nosy?”

“Of course,” Veronica hugged her sister, “I got you. Go ahead.”

“Thanks, Veronica.” Vanessa melted inside, “We’ll be back by tomorrow morning.”

“Go, Ness,” Veronica demanded, “You need to get the fuck out of here. I get it. Frankie…?”

“I got her, Veronica,” I promised. Whether her mother liked it or not, I’d always have Vanessa. I always got her back.

#the good old days #oc backstory #fan fiction prequel #for the family #switch #mafia au

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agarthanguide · 4 years

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i'm obsessed with klimt!jester and byzantine!molly, my gosh. what wonderful ideas you had for all of them! how long did it take you to settle on each inspiration, and what other ideas did you almost go with?

This is a fun question. Here’s how it went (behind the cut because this got so very long)-

Caleb happened first, and without any intention of doing a whole set. I wanted to try to do Van Gogh’s coloring thing, and Caleb seemed like a really good target. It was deeply fun.

Beau- Hey, I like this Caleb piece! What if I do art stuff for all of the M9? I wanna try those long inky LIchtenstein lines! And what could go wrong? Surely this won’t extend to two months of extensive research and work!

Molly- As soon as I decided to draw Beau, I knew I wanted Molly to be some highly iconographic thing with glorioles and gold leaf and things. I have a longstanding fascination with Catholic and Orthodox iconography and gosh do I love messing with gold leaf. Early concepts included some Fra Angelico action (he does this thing where you texture the gold leaf to create patterns in the frame, which i find absolutely stunning. This is also a Big Look in 17th Century Spanish polychrome sculpture, which I obviously couldn’t pastiche directly, but wanted to reference, if the opportunity came up)-

I also considered going a bit Russian. Russian iconography has probably the most opportunities for adding layers of symbolism (it just occurred to me that I probably would have needed to find someone who understood cyrillic to make it work)-

In the end, I was paging through a book of decorative motifs and was reminded of the Byzantine mosaics in Ravenna, which are probably the most iconic of the form outside of the Hagia Sophia. I decided that I’d probably have lots of other opportunities to paint, and I wanted to try my hand at a realistic tile look.

Caduceus- I thought of Mucha straight away, but I really didn’t want to do it, because I had already seen it done several times, and I thought those other artists had done really well, and that the concept was a closed book. The other big concept was Picasso’s Old Guitarist-

It’s got the lankiness and the stylization and I love the pose, but in the end I just really thought that Caduceus was more Art Nouveau than expressionist. Also my brother was really voting against any pose that included a profile, because I had never drawn Cad in anything other than profile. So that cinched it.

Jester- I never considered anything else but Klimt. I tried hard to think of something else, because my last two brain cells have just enough self awareness to know that Klimt is way, way above me in terms of pattern and texture and motif, and I was pretty sure it was gonna be too difficult for me. It was, by the way. I stopped long before I wanted to and didn’t include a lot of what I had dreamed of adding.

Matt- Following my fascination with iconography, I still wanted to do the heavily painted, loaded with symbolism and rich color portrait that Molly wasn’t. I looked at artists like Ghirlandaio, Castagno, and Jan van Eyck (I never considered Da Vinci, his sensitivity is way outside my orbit), but in the end I kept coming back to Holbein, who really raises the bar on color choice and symbolism. I love that all his portraits seem to be set in plain or dark spaces, but are somehow glowing and mysterious. I didn’t have the guts to put in a deep, perspective-y background, but omg I wish-

I mean I’m not a fucking wizard. But holy shit look at that. The notes and crap hanging off the wall all look like clues. Like Sherlock Holmes would be able to write the whole life story of this guy. It’s almost trompe l’oeil.

Yasha- First concept for Yasha was a Minoan fresco from Knossos-

If I was designing Yasha’s tribe, I think I’d go for a melange of Mongolian and Minoan, throwing in some Tibetan textile patterns. I just think this looks so much like her, and also some other Minoan frescoes include insane levels of ritualized badassery, like Bull Leaping and young girls offering saffron to incarnate goddesses. I just love it. In the end, I was worried that the relative clean-ness and simplicity of the lines in the Minoan style would make it look like I was giving Yasha short shrift. This feels a little ridiculous to me now, but I had just come off three in a row that took more than ten hours. My next thought was the Book of Hours of Joanna of Castile. The thought here was that some of the pages actually look like Yasha’s book of pressed flowers-

This felt like a totally winning direction to me. As I researched illuminated books more, though, my concept started to broaden and get more stylized, and I just went with it. I think it turned out okay.

Fjord- Fjord is handsome and iconic, so the ideas flowed easily for him. The first and most obvious was a Fabio-era (read- 80s to early 90s) romance novel cover-

I didn’t go with it because the Tusk Love thing meant that a lot of other artists had tried it already, and many of them had done a damn fine job, and I didn’t think that I had anything to add. The next concept was David’s Napoleon-

Very solid concept, but two issues- 1. Most portraits of Napoleon are pretty standard, in the mold of, say, Holbein, which I had already done. 2. The horse portrait is awesome, but I think Fjord had only been on horses circumstantially. I couldn’t picture him on a horse. He’s not iconically horsey, he’s iconically sailor-y. I can’t confirm whether or not he had a moorbounde when I painted this, but I know I hadn’t seen any of those episodes, yet. So. All of this dithering kept going until the DAY I STARTED PAINTING. And suddenly pulp cover fell out. I love pulp art. This is the second fandom I’ve done pulp art covers for.

Nott- Full credit to @essayofthoughts, who came up with the playing card thing right at the get go. I wasn’t sold, though, and floated two other concepts. First was a Mughal Miniature-

The thing about these is that they are very often like little comics. On one side of the painting, you can have the main character at a lake, picking daisies or being drowned or whatever, and then on the other side that same character can be picking pockets in a crowded bar. There’s loads of opportunity for detail and symbols and fun stuff like that. On the other hand- I’m not a goddam genius. I could not have taken in the style and substance of Mughal storytelling and then just spit it out in a few short weeks and done it any justice. Nope, that concept was just too difficult and too far above me.My other concept was Millais’ Ophelia-

This one might have been amazing, but the second half of the 19th century was getting very crowded indeed, with Caleb, Caduceus, and Jester all having concepts from that era. That and I wanted something more graphic artsy than painty to round out the series. Beau was starting to feel like an outlier and I wanted to loop her in closer to the bunch, if you know what I mean.

Okay that was a lot, but I apparently had a lot to share. I hope you found the unused concepts interesting, at least. What would you have done, were you me? I would love to hear outtakes from alternative universes.

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vicunaburger · 4 years

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Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 3/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,594 Warnings: M for Language

Notes: AW MAN. HERE WE GO.

In Which There is a Sleepless Night

Lydia, in fact, did not ease Holidae into an introduction with Beetlejuice that afternoon. Nor did the subject come up during dinner.

Or after dinner.

...or at any point that day before the two women retreated to their respective sleeping areas for the night.

Not for a lack of reminders that the ghost so thoughtfully bestowed upon his best friend during every single lull in the women's conversation. He made grotesque faces behind Holidae's back in order to frustrate Lydia into compliance. Lydia did her damndest to ignore him, which was a precarious balancing act of keeping her expression neutral and stopping him from physically manipulating their surroundings.

Twice she had to stop random objects from being chucked across the room. She was mildly impressed at herself for catching them - sports were never her forte - but running all over the house after the ghost was exhausting. It was when he started picking at Holidae's sweater and flipping bits of her hair into her face that Lydia decided to bring out the heavy weaponry.

Whilst Holidae's attention was distracted for a moment, she quickly muttered Beetlejuice's name two-and-a-half times in a row.

All poltergeist-esque shenanigans ceased immediately, and Lydia could finally relax enough to try and get some sleep after such a long day of moving. Dejected, Beetlejuice resigned himself to following Holidae around like a strange, otherworldly dog. Lydia thought better of telling him to stop outright; knowing he could throw a fit and plunge the house into absolute madness.

With a final warning, Lydia closed to the door to her room, assuring the ghost the promise of tomorrow.

That wasn't soon enough.

Holidae shuffled through her new bedroom, unaware of being followed by the spectre, and flopped unceremoniously upon her bed with a sigh. She was glad for the day to finally be over; truth be told. Not that she didn't appreciate the fact Lydia offered the home stay in the first place, quite the opposite.

Since their graduation from college, the roommates had bounced from sofa to sofa while they tried to find a permanent home. It was difficult to pick a location to settle in for the time being as Lydia's art career tried to get off the ground. Finding inexpensive places to live while traveling around the country for art shows was proving to be the needle in a haystack. Landlords didn't really want to give discounts for absentee tenants.

It was sheer luck that Lydia's parents had decided to spend several months traveling around the world, leaving the house in the girls' care without a thought for monetary repayment.

Holidae rolled over on her back, staring up at the ceiling in a daze. A nagging voice in her head told her this whole situation was just too good, and that the other shoe was destined to drop down at any moment. Maybe it was her own anxieties that had made the day feel...off since their arrival. Lydia's behavior, the strange mood of the house... it could have been all in her own head.

Beetlejuice paced around the room as Holidae stared off into oblivion, occasionally stopping to see if she were doing anything entertaining. He hated being invisible again, especially since all the residents of the house were able to see and interact with him on the regular. And Lyds had expected him to last a whole night being bored because she didn't want to scare her breather friend or some shit?

Patience might have been a virtue, but it wasn't one of his.

He scratched the stubble of his beard thoughtfully, "If I were a breather... which, ehh, not trying that again; what would make me want to see me?"

Holidae sat up with a jolt, startling the ghost as he pondered over his next course of action. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she got up and padded over to the empty space he was currently occupying. Beetlejuice backed up out of reflex, unsure of how corporeal he may or may not have been to her at the time. The Handbook was a bit fuzzy on interactions with breathers who were more receptive to otherworldly influences; but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Besides, he was the one usually disregarding personal spaces, not having his space invaded so abruptly.

"Hey, short stack, a little warning next time would be nice." He reached out, one of his darkened fingertips prodding against Holidae's forehead.

Reflexively, Holidae swept her hand upward, thinking there was some sort of insect she couldn't see in the dim room lighting. Her hand hit something.

Something heavy.

With an undignified squeak, she stumbled backward, catching the corner of the bed with her ankle and landing square on her ass on the hardwood floor. Hissing in pain, she rolled over on her side, letting loose a litany of curses into the crook of her elbow to muffle the noise. Beetlejuice was torn between wanting to help her and wanting to laugh at the slapstick display. He probably should help her out a little, seeing as if she was hurt Lydia could come into the room he would get blamed, but he could always vanish and feign ignorance.

Nah, Lydia would blame him anyway.

"That's it... I've gone insane. It's the house!" Holidae moaned in defeat, curling up on the rug. "Okay, Lyddy, I've got the next idea for the art show. Just come here and take photos of the pathetic nutcase on the floor. What once was a human, now pile of barely held together nerve endings."

The ghost took out a business card from the right breast pocket of his jacket, shaking it clear of cobwebs before materializing a pen in his other hand. He crossed out a few things, scribbled down some additions, and sat down on the floor beside Holidae. With a little finesse, he flicked the card so that it would land within peripheral vision of the woman curled up like a roly-poly.

The minutes crawled by, but eventually, Holidae noticed the small card a few inches from her head. Gingerly sitting up, rubbing the base of her spine, she picked up the card; the yellowed paper embossed with dingy black ink.

"Betelgeuse, the Bio-Exorcist...say my name three times..." Holidae mumbled, flipping the card over. "Professional... matchmaker, psychoanalyst, and amateur massage therapist. What the hell is this?"

Beetlejuice's face split into a wide grin, his sharpened teeth glinting in the dim light of the room, "C'mon, follow instructions..."

Holidae looked around the floor just in case there was anything else that could explain the sudden appearance of the card, wincing as her bruised skin protested the movement. Could it have been an art project of Lydia's? Fake advertisements? Maybe she had been experimenting with graphic art in her off hours? If the card required speaking something aloud, it could have even been a foray into performance art. Weird stuff.

"Ugh," she made a noise of frustration, flipping the card around idly in her fingers. "This is dumb. I'm dumb. Why am I even thinking about this for long? It's just some stupid set of weird things... and... and random pieces of paper. Probably garbage."

Beetlejuice tugged at his hair in frustration, the hue reflecting streaks of deep red, "Just. Say the words. Very simple. Three times. That's it. It'll be a magical fucking experience."

Brow furrowed in dismay, Holidae stared at the card as though it would suddenly catch fire in her hand, "Beetlejuice..."

The ghost perked up, "Yesssss?"

"Beetlejuice..." she continued, a chill in the air making her shiver.

One. More. Time.

A deep breath filled her lungs, and she looked upwards toward the stationary ceiling fan, "...Beetlejuice?"

The familiar sensation of being pulled fully into the material plane - which felt like a weird pinching sensation he could never understand - washed over Beetlejuice as soon as the words left her lips. He could feel the living world, the warmth radiating off the breather in front of him; the general alive-ness of the atmosphere of the house. It was so different from the Neitherworld; so much more appealing compared to the drab, monotone world he had inhabited for countless eras.

Holidae could feel something shift in the air around the room, but it wasn't something she could pin down into a tangible sensation. The lightbulb flickered in her bedside lamp, the shadows crawling along the walls like serpents or a swarm of insects. A musty, heady smell like freshly tilled earth filled her nostrils; mixed with the acrid scent of smooth cigarette smoke and cheap liquor.

And just like that, she was no longer alone in her room.

One of the most eccentric looking men she had ever seen was on his hands and knees in front of her, smiling with a mouth full of distressingly sharp - stained - teeth. He was dressed in a matching suit of black and white vertical stripes... at least at one point they might have been white, it was hard to tell under the fine layer of grime and various imperfections. A shock of bright green hair was fluffled up on his head, and his rounded face sported a five o'clock shadow.

Holidae's jaw hung slack as she tried to process his sudden appearance. She felt so... small in his presence, as though his entire being filled the empty spaces in the room.

The wood floor under his hands and knees creaked suddenly with his new weight, his body shifting into a crouching position, "Hiya, Holly-Jolly."

#beej x oc #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x oc #beetlejuice x self insert #writing time

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ure-a-sunflower · 6 years

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Comfort Café (Part 1)

[1 of 2]

This is just me trying to write a short fic/one shot, so please be gentle with me. I normally write long-ass stories so this is a bit of a change. Anyways, hope ya’ll enjoy it. This sounded way better in my head than it did while typing it.

Warnings: Swearing (that’s all I think???)

“Y/N” = Your Name

“So you’re actually blaming this on me now? You absolute ass! All I did for you, and this is how you’re ending things with me?!”

Jesus, if they wanted an audience for their epic break up, they might as well have brought megaphones just to let the people across the street be informed for good measure.

“Please don’t make a scene out of this; I just wanted to talk thi-” The boyfriend whispered in an embarrassed tone that almost made me feel sorry. Take note “almost”. I’m not new to this BS.

The girlfriend (I’m assumed) took none of his bullshit and cried out, “That’s it. I am so done. Good luck finding a better girl than me!” After hurrying to grab all her stuff, performing the telenovela-worthy hair flip, and an Oscar-Winning slap against his face with the loud “SMACK”, she was out the door. I noticed another guy walk away with her, and my jaw dropped in a silent and in disbelief laugh.

The poor EX-boyfriend just stood there, humiliated and unnerved by the amount of eyes staring at him.

The café was dead ass silent. Nobody knew what to do.

It was honestly saddening just seeing the guy and the pain right through him; but I wasn’t allowing a stranger to weigh on my 7 hour shift today.

He walked up to counter, a little limp in his walk after she just smacked him, and didn’t even try to look like he cared. Nobody was behind him, so he took as much as time he needed.

His eyes bored into the menu above us and I swear I’ve never seen someone so soulless than the girl next to me during the college finals.

Luckily, the café seemed to have mind their own business again. I think the guy was ready to order when I immediately just had to get it off my chest.

“Hey, um,” I stuttered to say, completely regretting opening my mouth as he turned to me, “I’m really sorry about what happened to you earlier.”

The guy seemed startled at my shot at small talk, which made me want to grab the blowtorch by the kitchen and slowly cremate myself slowly into ashes.

“Oh, uh, don’t be sorry. That scene was all my fault anyways,” he replied. I mean he ain’t lying. If he thought it was fine to bring his chihuahua of a girlfriend for a break up inside the cheaper version of Starbucks, he thought wrong. “Um, by the way, I’m really sorry of the disturbance we caused earlier.”

Aww, poor baby. His voice sounded so raspy and a little broken. God damn it, I could shove my head into the cash register and just scream.

Why am I like this?!

“Anyways, I just want a regular cappuccino. That’s it.” I snapped back from my thoughts when I remembered the situation I was in. My hands fumbled to type his order into the computer. There was an awkward silence after I tell him the cost and the noise of a receipt printing.

He gave me a small smile as I handed the receipt and one of those circular things that light up when the order was ready to take. As he walked away from me, I slumped myself against the counter. I swear, the vibes this guy’s giving me.

Heavy rain began to pour outside, evoking a sigh of relief from my chest. Nobody was likely to walk in here at this weather unless they were that shamefully desperate for either a) a drink or b) wifi.

I turned to the other young barista here, who was about to prepare the cappuccino. A thought came in my head that I all of a sudden followed. “Hey, Greg, lemme take this order. You can’t do cappuccino designs right- Yeah, anyways, can you take over the register for a few minutes? Thanks.” Greg shuffles to the cash register in a bored manner and I took over what he started.

After I waited for the hot water to fill the cup, I glanced at the same spot the scene happened earlier to catch ex-boyfriend, re-claiming the seats. He sat down, and almost immediately did something like a tissue drop from his pocket.

He just stared at it from his seat and rolled his eyes tiredly. From the way he acted, there was no damn way he had the energy to even get off his ass. The tissue was then left entirely ignored.

Honestly, what a fucking mood.

I look back at the cup and carry it to the side. But as I stir, the guilt and empathy in me started to make me feel sick.

News flash: Yes, I have a heart.

Like, maybe I should add a small cookie as a “hey, man, hope ya recover”. I don’t know?

Christ, what the fuck. Since when did I give a crap about customers? This is the time for me to like, I don’t know, roast the guy in my head ‘cause it looks like he can’t handle anymore verbally.

Though, I couldn’t help but pity him. He really did look broken; like he didn’t want any of it to happen.

I was dumped only a few months ago and I knew how it felt. The ass cheated and turned the thing around on me. In front of everyone at a party. Like in those cartoons where a fucking piano would drop out of nowhere even when it’s being lifted outside the window and nothing made sense but you still never questioned it.

Despite how I knew better, the heaviness of my ex’s words never left my brain for weeks. God, I was going to lose my insanity if I didn’t manage to slap myself and get my shit together. And after that, I don’t really want anyone to suffer that bad I did.

Anyways, screw those moments. About the guy in the sofa.

Ignoring my second thoughts and for some reason giving a mental screw it while preparing, I finish the drink and walked over to the glass cases. I grab a small container of ice cream, a bottle of iced tea, and a slice of mousse (with Greg not really caring to ask what I was doing. Not that he should, really.) Those are usually stuff I’d eat when searching for comfort food... in a café-esque way, right? Surely other people would too.

My wallet’s gonna call my ass out later. I hate myself. Why am I like this.

I shake away my thoughts and finish his original order. Placing all the additional stuff and the cappuccino on a tray, I held it with (for some reason) a nervous grip while I marched to his spot.

Maybe it was my introverted-ness that goes off every now and then whenever it likes, but I kept on feeling like it was my instincts just terrified of... y’know, him turning down the stuff I have now officially bought for him.

I was basically afraid of rejection. Fuck- just great.

Standing before his table, I noticed he was on his phone and was completely in another world. One leg was crossed over the other and his attention and soul were glued to his screen. The circular beeping thing was on his lap, but since I delivered his order to him without calling his order, I had a hunch he wouldn’t really expect me.

I smiled sheepishly (as if he would even notice) and lowered the tray, which must’ve surprised him, as he jumped into a proper sitting position. He looked down to see the food and was somewhat baffled.

“Uh, I thought I was going to-“ He gestured to the beeper and I chuckled while shaking my head, taking it from him. “It’s fine. I just thought you wouldn’t really want to walk after I saw you look so... post break-up broken and that kind of shit.”

The guy chuckled under his breath and picked up the cappuccino from the tray. “Well, thanks,” he searched for my name tag, “Y/N.”

When I started to leave, he called out, “Wait, Y/N! I didn’t order this!”

“Oh, yeah, it’s on the house.”

And with his jaw left hanging, I returned to my shift.

It was 37 minutes before my shift was about to end, and I could finally leave. Doing a little stretch behind the counter, I didn’t mean to catch sight of ex-boyfriend, still occupying that sofa, and still looking... I don’t know, depressed? It had been three hours and honestly, he didn’t show any sign of budging.

The rain only grew harder which made it seem reasonable for him not to leave yet; but I mean, the guy was carrying an umbrella and his keys were on the table so what was he waiting for? Jesus to descend and tell him to get his shit together?

Wow, Y/N, stalker much?

I immediately turned away but as I did, I felt eyes looking into back of my head. He must’ve caught me staring at his direction.

He gave me an exasperated smile, and before I knew it, I was now standing by his table. “Hey, dude, I really don’t want to like, invade your privacy or whatever, but my shift’s coming to an end and I just wanted to see if you want to talk about anything. I know it’s unusual for someone like me to check on your wellbeing, especially at the setting we’re in, but you really look like you need company. Don’t want you jumping off a bridge or anything.”

Ex-boyfriend didn’t say anything for a few seconds and I was now horrified at the fact that he was probably about to awkwardly shoo me away.

“Well, I was hoping you could finish your shift then maybe sit here with me for a while?

#oneshot #meet cute #cafe #romance #shorts #adorable #post breakup #comfort #fluff

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utopianparadoxist · 7 years

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[3. Earthbound - The two Yaldabaoths, Dramatic Tension & The Diegetic Reader (That’s You!)]

[Spoilers for Earthbound:Beginnings, Earthbound, & Mother 3]

Most know by now that Earthbound is referenced every time we say the word “Homestuck”. It’s built into the name: To be Stuck at Home. To be Bound to Earth.

And fittingly for a reference which such pervasive impact on our understanding of the comic, Homestuck styles itself as a spiritual successor to Earthbound in a number of ways.

Both Earthbound and Homestuck begin with a set of four kids who go on an adventure together. Both feature kids with psychic powers, friendship, and the meaning of growing up.

But there are three particular similarities to Homestuck that I want to present you with here. In these three areas, Homestuck and Earthbound/Mother are notably alike:

The Characters:

1) Both feature a unique execution of dramatic tension and narrative stakes for the characters. The Player:

2) Engage in heavily metatextual, diegetic relationships between the World/Story and The Player/Reader.

The Antagonists:

3) Are God-Like, Authoritarian powers that cannot engage with ideas. In other words, they operate as Yaldabaoths.

These antagonists are who I want to talk about first. We will proceed from number 3 up to number 1, talking about the context of the games and tying it into the comic further as we go. I’ll ask you to be patient with me if you don’t see much about Homestuck at first--there’s a lot of setup work to do.

Without further ado, let’s begin.

3) The Antagonists.

Side A) Earthbound - The War on Giygas.

Earthbound is the story of a boy named Ness, and his neighbor, Pokey Minch. One day, a meteor lands in their town, a time-traveler called Buzz Buzz appears from within. Buzz Buzz tells Ness he has come from a bad future, where an alien overlord named Giygas has cast the world into eternal darkness. Only Ness and his prophecized friends can stop Giygas.

From then on Earthbound is mostly a fun, sweet adventure romp for our Protagonists. Pokey goes on an adventure of his own, acting like a cruel child whilst striking deals with agents of Giygas and steadily gaining more and more power, both in business and through the dark forces Giygas employs.

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Then we skip ahead to the very end of Earthbound. Where we get one of the most horrific and memorable boss sequences in gaming.

Giygas is explicitly unfathomable, indescribable: Giygas is Eldritch in the true “Man was never meant to see this” sort of way. Giygas isn’t explicitly A God, but rather an alien. But he certainly acts like a God. His influence makes inanimate objects animate, makes animals aggressive, lures people into cults and evil deeds.

He’s tapped into the centers of power and wealth in society. Giygas is nowhere, and yet everywhere. He is, in short, the God of the material world Earthbound’s kids wander through. Their Yaldabaoth.

And interestingly, as with Yaldabaoth, Pokey describes Giygas as being “an all-mighty Idiot”--unaware of himself or what’s happening around him.

Giygas shares similarities with Bastian and Caliborn, too--in Earthbound: Beginnings, he’s driven insane by a song that reminds him of his mother. Like Bastian, Giygas has connotations of warped, eternal childhood. But unlike Bastian, Giygas does not escape his damnation until he dies.

And there are fates even worse than death. Such as the fate reserved for Pokey Minch, who against all odds, is the more interesting of the two--and the more relevant for Homestuck.

Let’s talk about Mother 3.

Side B) Mother 3 - No crying until the end.

Mother 3 is not as happy a game as Earthbound. Where Earthbound concentrated it’s gloom and despair into intense climaxes while being generally upbeat, Mother 3 is bittersweet and tragic throughout--though still plenty beautiful and joyful when it wants to be.

Like Homestuck, it has an unusual structure of Acts--8 instead of 7, but also of variable lengths, including a chapter that takes up almost half the game. Playable characters vary with each section, but the bulk of the game features Lucas, his dog Boney, and their friends Duster and Kumatora. So again: Four protagonists.

Set in the post-apocalyptic Nowhere Islands, Mother 3 tells the story of the fascist, totalitarian Pig Mask Army’s encroachment onto the idyllic, peaceful lives of the Nowhere Island natives.

As it turns out, the Pig Mask Army is led by the megalomaniacal dictator Pokey (Japanese name “Porky”) Minch, who discovers the ability to travel spacetime and escapes the final battle against Giygas.

Since then, he’s traveled countless worlds and lived through millennia, conquering and exploiting all unfortunate enough to be caught in his way.

All the while, never truly growing up.

Sound familiar?

Now, one interesting parallel about Pokey is what he does to the world he rules over. Just Lord English does to the Troll’s universe--and more indirectly, to both Human universes--Pokey manipulates and exploits The Nowhere Islands through a number of tools.

He’s got the authoritarian power regime also in place on Alternia, of course. But Pokey dabbles in genetic modification and playing with the nature of life as well, just as both trolls and humans were genetically exploited by Lord English’s agents. Most of the enemies in Mother 3 are chimeras: amalgams of animals and machines, cruelly spliced together.

And Pokey also attempts to shape culture on the Islands to his liking, distributing “Happy Boxes” that look like televisions and seem to encourage a sort of shift towards crass materialism and an acceptance of the Pig Masks’ fascist dominance.

I note these similarities mostly because through Pokey we get a direct linking between the idea of a God-Like Yaldabaoth figure and the idea of a tyrannical, authoritarian dictator.

This is an area of Lord English’s insidious evil mostly delivered to the audience through implication and background information, so I think it’s worth the time to draw it into focus.

And the similarities between their atrocities might give us some context between the similarities at the end of their stories. Because, again like Lord English...

Master Pokey can’t die.

But he is defeated, as his machine runs out of power. And so, lacking other options, Pokey plays his trump card.

One that proves to be the end of his influence in the story.

"Oh, my! As evil as old Porky here is, I feel bad for him now. It's true that the "Absolutely Safe Capsule" that the Mr. Saturns and I developed together can protect one from every manner of danger. It IS an absolutely safe capsule, but once you enter it, you can never exit it... Even what's outside of the Absolutely Safe Capsule is absolutely safe. I did tell Porky in a hushed voice that he shouldn't use it yet... But all he can do now is live for eternity inside the capsule, in absolute safety. Who knows, in a way, he may've gotten exactly what he wanted. What do you think? Is it wrong of me to think this way?" — Dr. Andonuts

Once Pokey seals his life into the capsule, there’s no longer an out for him. Not ever again. In a way, Pokey’s fate may indeed be one worse than death. And it’s one that seems to be echoed by Lord English, since after all...

Lord English cannot die, but he is defeated.

Specifically, Act 7′s visual language suggests he’s pocketed in the Black Hole that Alt!Calliope created. As a Black Hole is a gravitational singularity, once there, Lord English would be trapped--no amount of Time powers would let him come out, and First Guardian powers would no longer work either, since they rely on the Green Sun’s power.

An immortal, tyrannical kid--denied his playground for eternity. Pretty fitting, I think.

But Lord English is only one part of the story, and I think the relationship between the protagonists and the Player/Reader is the more interesting area of Earthbound to explore. Because...didn’t I mention?

In the Mother series, there is another God.

It’s you.

2) The Player

Both Earthbound and Mother 3 explicitly address your existence in the context of their worlds. Both games, in fact, pause entirely just to ask you your name. In Earthbound, this role is taken by Tony, Jeff’s canonically gay friend. He calls Jeff, and in the process brings up a prompt for the Player to input their name. This can seem like a bit of cheeky fourth-wall breaking, but consider:

You are the unseen hand behind the characters’ every action. You lead them through their world just as Giygas does for Pokey. You’re never viewed, but always present, witness and privy to all things.

And in the final boss battle (you did watch that, didn’t you?), when all else fails, Paula’s prayers reach the people of Earthbound who care about the four chosen children...including you. Your name is the final name given, praying for the protection of Ness and his friend. Your prayers are the power that end Giygas.

Mother 3 makes it even more explicit. In this game, you’re asked your name by an unseen voice, while Flint prays at an altar in the only Church in the game. Depicted on the front of it are the Light and Dark Dragons of Nowhere Island, the latter of which is the subject of an apocalyptic prophecy we’ll talk about soon.

A good question to ask at this point is: Why does this matter? And the answer is that because we’re given the God’s-eye view of these games, the context of our engagement with them is diegetic: explained by the narrative itself.

Like Bastian reading The Neverending Story, we’re not just observers consuming the content of these games. At least as far as the stories within are concerned, we are active participants. We are part of the story.

And this is true of Homestuck, too. Doc Scratch is a smarmy asshole, but he directly acknowledges the reader. He even credits us with more of an impact on the story than our protagonists. And on some level, this is true.

We HAVE had a direct impact on the story, through command prompts and fandom memes and all sorts of other engagements that ended up shaping the way Homestuck has been told. We’ve always been part of the narrative.

Hell, we’ve always been depicted in it. The MSPA Reader is a template, a schematic stand-in for all of us, just as the Human characters we love are blank templates for a multitude of more specific body headcanons.

And this has important implications for how we, the readers, might best engage with Homestuck.

Because the fact that our window into its world is diegetic means that it is presented through us through an explicit frame, a frame that is narratively constructed.

And frames have limits.

1) The Characters

Whenever I hear people say Homestuck is a tragedy, or that it’s headed for a sadstuck ending with the Beta kids stuck in the Juju in the Masterpiece, I honestly can’t help but laugh. You don’t need alternate timelines and sacrificial lamb versions of our protagonists to secure a happy ending in Homestuck.

Homestuck itself is practically a loop of impossible-seemingly, absolute-dooming circumstances...

met by perseverance and good cheer.

And when all’s said and done, the story pretty much always breaks in favor of the latter. Remember that one of the fundamental rules of Homestuck’s universe is the “Do As You Will” principle--everyone always gets what they want.

Caliborn gets to be LE, as does Gamzee. Arquis gets to fulfill the out-of-nowhere heroic destiny he wanted, and finally proves himself to the Alphas in an act of atonement. Lord English gets his eternity of destruction, and Vriska gets to be the great Hero she always wanted to be.

But our protagonists? The Alphas and Betas? They just want to live in peace. Their desires are compatible with the wills of all the other characters.

Lord English’s will is not, and he’s trampled the agency of every other character a million times over to get where he is. That’s what makes him a tyrant, and that’s what dooms him to his Absolutely Safe Capsule. Karma is an established force in Homestuck, and LE will pay his due.

And in this extremely-dire-until-the-very-last-second approach, too, Homestuck seems to be standing on the shoulders of giants.

Because this big buildup to a Big Dramatic Tragedy of an ending is pretty much exactly Earthbound’s M.O.

Earthbound’s final boss isn’t just one of the most horrifically well-executed eldritch monsters in gaming history. It’s also set-up as what amounts to a suicide mission.

Earthbound’s protagonists time travel to a monochrome greyscape (in robot bodies) fully knowing there’s no way back from their battle with Giygas. And the battle with Giygas does indeed kill them--here you see the wreck of their robot selves. It’s pretty much deus ex machina when their souls wander back into their bodies shortly afterwards.

Even more interesting to me, however, are the parallels we find to Mother 3′s ending.

youtube

I’m going to take a time out from Homestuck for a second and talk about Mother 3 for a second, because this moment is too important to me to waste frivolously, or subject to my overwrought explanatory dialogue with without giving you the option to watch a scene that’s Undertale-level good.

Unless I’ve already succeeded in getting you to stop reading, drop everything, and go find a translated version of Mother 3 now (you can’t play it in english without emulating, since it was never released in the US), I would really appreciate it if you took the time and sucked up the spoilers and watched this ending cutscene.

It’s a work of art. A heartrending, heartfelt symphony to the pain of loss and the fear of something changing forever. Mother 3 is a game about the Apocalypse. A game about CAUSING the apocalypse, to be precise.

Your final moments with the game are spent watching Lucas pull the final needle that binds a dragon bigger than the world, and the only hope is that Lucas’ good heart will pass on to the Dragon and make a good new world to come. Nothing else is certain.

And the shots we see aren’t encouraging: Immediately after pulling the needle, the world begins to fall apart. Earthquakes rise and wreak havoc. Twisters of water dominate the sky and ocean. Meteors fall from the sky, and as if rising from an enormous egg, a vast, black back archs out from under the world we came to love.

And then we cut to black, and the End screen pops up. We never see these characters again. Only...

Only we do get to talk to them. Once this question mark pops up, you can move around in this black screen-with ‘You’ represented by the END? depicted- and occasionally, you’ll bump into...words. Words that say things like:

And

You get glimpses of things you can’t talk to, like...

And best of all, this is where the game brings out its ace.

Because this is where the name you gave in the church comes into play. At the end of it all, all of the characters in the cast not only tell you they’re ok, but recognize you. Thank you. Love you. Treat you like a friend, say goodbye, invite you back over, and wish you well in life.

In Mother 3, you play as the God of the old world, the world bound by the rules the cast had to play by. By playing through to the end, you set them free.

And by treating you as a real part of its world, Mother 3 invites you to consider its characters a real part of yours. Invites you to think of them not as characters, but as friends. As people. If that sounds familiar, it’s because Undertale built a whole damn game out of the concept.

But the same approach has always been in Homestuck’s DNA. These characters were always people first and characters second, and we were always privy to a limited frame.

That frame is Homestuck, which until The Masterpiece and Lord English’s defeat, has belonged to Caliborn. This has always been the story of his circle--the Alpha Timeline--and the context it crafts out is his childish empire.

Next time, we’ll talk more about Homestuck’s Gnostic themes, and just what it is *exactly* that our protagonists are escaping from.

For now, I’ll leave you with this song.

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If this piece interested you in Mother 3, I suggest checking out Tom Ato’s legendary fan translation for the game. Mother 3 is a masterpiece, and I owe both it and Tom Ato my life in some ways. It’d make me really happy to know even one more person has been touched by their work because of me.

[Master Post]

[Patreon] [Hiveswap Discord]

Keep rising.

#Homestuck #Earthbound #Mother 3 #Gnosticism #My MSPA Analysis #Lord English

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thunderbirdlovelove-blog · 7 years

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Instead, we added fuel to the fire. Well, not all of us – ‘you-know-who’ did.

The World has Gone Crazy. Mad. Off it’s Rocker: Trying to Stay Sane in an Insane World.

Looking back now, I guess I have to thank Billy Joel for planting a seed in me. Wow. I’m just realizing this as I write. I always loved that song – even then I liked to hear someone ‘stickin’ it to the man.’ It was 1989; I was a 17 year old high school senior & already long a Rebel 😛

It was the first time I heard someone list so many of the screwed up things in the world at the time – in one shot like that.

A challenge indeed. Did I take a wrong turn & wind up on the set of some sick & twisted play? It sure feels like it. I’ve heard many say, “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.” That really sucks – but I get it. That’s probably a big reason why I’m so compelled to wake up the others. I wondered – maybe it’s just me – I tend to freak out fast with this mix of intensity, passion & impatience – but a quick search tells me no, it isn’t just me ..

Collective Evolution did this piece: “What The Heck Is Going On?”

And From the Stars did this one: “Is The World Going Crazy?”

From Mark Manson: “Is It Just Me, Or Is the World Going Crazy?”

And from Andrew Griffiths: “How Can We Stay Sane When It Feels Like the World Is Going Crazy?”

And that, ladies & gentlemen, is what we call a Theme 😛

And this gem:

“A Human Describes the Ridiculousness of our System to an Alien”

A clever & accurate description of the backasswards bizarro world we live in, explained so simply, & sounding utterly ridiculous.

– From the FB page of Abnormal Society, posted on YouTube by Man Against the State.

Brilliant!

I still feel drawn, compelled even, to wake the masses – especially if I hear a story like people trampling their neighbour to death on Black Friday for the latest nikes / iphone / nonsense. Kinda leads me to feel it still needs to be said. Reminded. Remembered. As long as there still are people who are hooked to the Matrix while simultaneously flat-out not believing it exists – brushing it off as just a ‘Conspiracy Theory’ – or simply having absolutely no idea what I’m talking about – I will plant the seeds. It’s no bother, really – I love it 🙂 The Matrix’ tricks still have quite the hold on some. I still want to help them connect the dots. I really feel for my fellow humans who are still being reeled in. Every once in a while I gotta try to wake one more. Just another resonating characteristic of Dolores Cannon’s Second Waver. (I was delighted when Suzanne Hansen mentioned that again at the Alien Cosmic Expo 2017, 2 weeks ago in Toronto. My Expo blog is in the works 😉 )

“The First Wave were the pioneers or the trailblazers that is why they had so much difficulty with living on planet Earth. The Second Wave has had it far easier and do not have near the problems that the First Wave has experienced. Dolores Cannon refers to the Second Wavers as “channels, generators, and antennas,” and they generally project a very positive energy.

There are just here to be. The energy they have in their body effects everyone they come in contact with. Many have chosen not to have children, as this creates karma, and they don’t want to have to return to Earth after this life. They are very gentle, they could walk through a mall or a grocery store and affect everyone. They emanate a very positive energy.

Just like the First Wavers, they just want to do their job and get out of here. They also are protected by a karmic shield because they don’t want to be stuck on Earth and unable to return home.” – Dolores Cannon

My “In a Nutshell” Assessment of the Situation: The ridiculous world of the Matrix:

Turn on the news these days, & you’ll see them focusing on only the bad news – they search for the worst of the worst of the worst – instilling fear & hate to the masses. Replaying & replaying & replaying the same thing over & over again & over again, subtly brainwashing you. Dr. Steven Greer states & proves, with a myriad of documents & witnesses, in his #1 documentary on itunes & amazon for well over 2 months now, “Unacknowledged,” that you’re more likely to get truth from tabloids, than ‘the news’ – the mainstream media.

As you watch that TV, those utterly fake & absolutely annoying ads try to convince you that you need what they’re selling. “Hey we’ll cure your itchy elbow with this pill we just invented yesterday! But it may cause swelling, nausea, dizziness, pink eye, trouble breathing, walking, talking, you could go blind, your limbs might fall off, you could have a heart attack, or it could be fatal! They warn you it could KILL you, but want you to take the chance! But hey – you won’t itch!!” Meanwhile, I want to smoke my perfectly safe joint, & I can’t. SMH.

I cancelled my cable over a year ago; the fake-ness of it all made my skin crawl. These days I can only watch truth – documentaries, biographies, non-fiction stuff. I do watch 1 or 2 shows – online – far away from those ‘like nails on a chalkboard’ ads. Last week I ‘accidentally’ saw a few. All Big Pharma, pushing their poison. Legalized drug dealing. And every time one played, the one right after was an ad from a big law firm: A class action suit suing Big Pharma for their previous week’s pill. You catch my drift?

Some ‘american dream’ all right. Not yours though.

Credit card companies & banks let you buy stuff with money you don’t have. They lend you money that doesn’t exist. Have you seen #The Big Short?” Good God, watch that. Know whats going on. Research the Fed.

You pay for insurance, but when you need them you’re denied. If you require surgery in the US, you better have medical insurance or they may refuse to treat you – remember their slogan: Profit Over People. They privatize prisons. Rather than help you, they profit from your mistakes. Even further – they have a say in the very making of the laws that put you in there – lining their pockets even more! They invent laws against things that are perfectly safe, so they can arrest more of you. It’s insane!

Don’t even get me started on the 4000+ Free Energy patents lying on the patent room floor. They’re not actually, they’re on a black shelf way in the back. Squashed. Sometimes they squash the people too. Don’t take my word for it – look it up yourself. The info is all available online.

“CCA and GEO each spend well over $1 million a year contributing to political campaigns (in addition to untold lobbying costs likely in the tens of millions) in order to make sure that both the laws being written and the government contracts being handed down keep their private prisons stocked with inmates.”

– Source: Private Prisons: American Slavery, Under New Management

They make things that have no business being illegal, illegal. Like Cannabis. Cannabis is so safe, it had never killed a single soul in the history of time & people. It’s more dangerous to eat a peanut, get stung by a bee, take a selfie, walk down the stairs, or take aspirin; all which have killed people & continue to. Cannabis = ZERO. That’s as safe as it gets. But this is a huge threat to Big Pharma – their propaganda campaign is relentless. They, on the other hand, ruthlessly kill hundreds of thousands of people per year. The numbers are insane. All wrapped in a pretty package called ‘treatment’.

Monsanto wears Hazmat suits spraying our ‘food’. GMO’s. Farmers getting killed for not using Monsanto’s seeds. Chemtrails. Carcinogens are in our products, our drinks, & what we refer to as ‘food’.

A white kid rapes a girl – he gets probation – cuz he’s a good student & a great football player, & we don’t want to ruin his future! Meanwhile the girl’s life will never be the same again. A black kid rapes a girl – he gets the max, maybe even life, maybe no parole. Or maybe he never even sees the inside of a jail cell, let alone a court, cuz he was executed on the spot by one of those white cops who skipped the “How to Subdue, Handcuff & Arrest a Suspect” class at the academy & just executes instantly – but then only gets a 1 month suspension – with pay. Even WITH video evidence in the victim’s favor. It’s Insane!

These are the victims in the US since 1999.

I remember lots of these people – their stories are outrageous.

Blatant misuse of force & miscarriage of Justice.

Google ‘Pedophile Priest’ & you’ll get over 1 million hits. Google ‘Pedophile Priest Gets Relocated to Another Church after Abuse Allegations/Charges” & count those hits.

One needs not scratch their head in wonder at the state of the world when half the world’s kids have to go through what they go through. That’s 1 out of every 2 kids. Don’t even bother to look up statistics. Nothing could be more inaccurate. Too many go unreported. Probably more than are reported. There is a world child pornography/pedophilia ring so big & so high you could cry – but nobody does it – everyone is innocent. Child & human trafficking is a BILLION dollar industry. And it’s not just priests – judges, doctors, lawyers, cops, hollywood big-wigs, directors, producers – deep rabbit hole there. Coaches, uncles, teachers, bosses, fathers. Men kidnap young girls, sometimes their own daughters, lock them in dungeons & cages, sometimes for years, even decades – some even have kids with their own children! Do some searches on cases in the UK. You can connect people like Jimmy Savile & Jeffrey Epstein to politicians, government, presidents, the royals. the vatican & the MI people. It is all connected. Maybe that’s what MI stands for – Matrix Intelligence.

“The domestic intelligence agency of the United Kingdom, which operates in secret & whose primary function is to spy on terrorist organizations & others viewed as a threat to British national security. Formally known as the Security Service.

Not to mention all the USAP’s = Unacknowledged Secret Access Programs.

I’m so tired of all this. Aren’t You?

Sadly, I could go on – but that’s enough. It’s crap. All of it. And there’s a word for all that.

It’s called the Matrix.

‘They’ want you to blindly follow the ‘american dream’ they’re tryin’ to sell you; when it’s actually more of a twisted nightmare. Greed, corruption & bullshit. Complete disregard for our lives, health, future & the future of this planet. A broken system, secrecy, lies, deep corruption, injustice, wars, murders, kidnappings, executions. And they put it right out there in movies, hiding it in plain sight, disguised as:

“Oh that’s just movie stuff! Fiction stuff!”

Well I’m here to tell you – it isn’t. Everything is backassward. Bizarro world. Think George Costanza. I think, “Do the Opposite.” So many things are the exact opposite of what they claim to be. Flip ’em. Mirrors. You’ll just hafta figure it out 😉

Seriously. What are we doing?

What are YOU doing?

#wakeup #wakeupworld

Hey Billy Joel! We Still Haven’t Put Out that Fire 🔥 Instead, we added fuel to the fire. Well, not all of us - 'you-know-who' did. The World has Gone Crazy.

#Awakening #Awareness #Cannabis #Enlightenment #Freedom #Harmony #Love #Peace #Personal Freedom #Unity

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ranusoni-blog · 7 years

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Best Places to eat in Delhi

Delhi has dependably been a standout amongst the most favored goal for nourishment beaus. With its countless assortments and different cooking styles alongside heavenly treats and extraordinary tastes, this city is a living legend from hundreds of years. Ideal from saving age-old conventional insider facts of cooking to the pleased trailblazer of flawless mark dishes, this dynamic city has dependably pulled in nourishment sweethearts from inaccessible terrains. Albeit acclaimed for its astonishing assortment of choices for non-vegans, Delhi has similarly mouth-watering and restrictive sustenance joints for veggie lovers. Property for sale in Delhi are equally good as the food in Delhi. So why hold up? We present to you the main 15 places at Delhi that are an absolute necessity strive for vegans out there!

1. Kake Di Hatti

The scrumptious indulgences of Old Delhi have dependably been a foodie's enjoyment! From conventional Punjabi cooking to Kulfis and Faloodas, from several assortments of Paranthas to Chhole bhatures and kulches, Old Delhi is a throbbing place for nourishment mates. Kake Di Hatti, a credible Punjabi diner, is one such heaven. Situated in Gali Batashan close Fatehpuri Chowk, Kake Di Hatti serves customary North Indian food in pocket benevolent qualities. Their Dal Makhani and assortments of stuffed Naan are an unquestionable requirement attempt. Cost for two is Rs. 400 around.

2. Veg Gulati

This vegan branch of the well known chain of Gulati eateries is a veggie lover's pleasure! Gulati Restaurants are among the most established and put stock in names of the city. Veg Gulati is popular for their North Indian food. Situated at Pandara Road Market, their mood and administrations are genuinely honorable. Must attempt dishes incorporate Amritsari Churchur Paranthan and Dal Makhani. One of the fine cafes of the city, cost for two is roughly Rs. 1300.

3. Govinda's

The droning of "Bunny Rama Hare Krishna" echoes in the climate of Govinda's. Situated in the heart of Delhi's Iskcon sanctuary, Govinda's is another well known place for unadulterated veggie lovers. They have a one of a kind smorgasbord framework and the nourishment is a Prasad of Lord Krishna. Well known for their North Indian cooking alongside Chinese cooking, shakes and lassis, Govinda's is known for their straightforward and perfect nourishment. Their must attempt Thalis incorporate Chappan Bhog Special. Cost for two is roughly Rs. 1100. There are many flats for sale in Delhi near to the locality where it has been set up.

4. Shake Square

Likewise well known as Keventers, this place is known for their thick shakes and lip-smacking snacks. Situated close to Wenger's ,Inner Circle at CP, Shake Square is another pocket amicable and additionally invigorating sustenance joint. Must attempt shakes incorporate chocolate, espresso and strawberry flavors. Be prepared for a long line since this place is an insane spot for shake-beaus. Cost for two is Rs. 300 roughly.

5. Chache Di Hatti

A standout amongst the most favored sustenance joints of Delhi University's North Campus, Chache Di Hatti is known for their delectable and similarly filling Chhole Bhatures. Situated in Kamala Nagar, this diner is effectively available due to its popularity and taste. This place is again a swarmed one, so be setup for a line with a specific end goal to have those delightful Chhole Bhatures. Cost for two is Rs.80 around. Likewise, incline toward achieving the place before 2-3pm on the grounds that they typically shut the place after that. You truly would prefer not to miss those yummy bhatures!

6. Saravana Bhawan

Situated in Janpath , Saravana Bhavan is celebrated for their genuine South Indian cooking. Their delightful Appam is broadly acclaimed and additionally one of the only accessible dishes in Delhi. Likewise attempt their rava idli and masala dosa. Cost for two is Rs. 500 roughly.

7. Indus Flavor

Situated in Kingsway Camp, Hudson path, Indus Flavor is one-of-its kind vegan hotspot motivated by the treats of ranges around Indus Valley civilisation. They are well known for their extraordinary North Indian and Chinese cooking. The place cases to "shiver the taste buds of nourishment epicureans". Must attempt dishes are Dahi ke sholay, Gilafi kebab, Dal Indus and Islamabadi paneer. Cost for two is Rs. 700 around.

8. Rajdhani

Situated in DLF Place Mall, Saket, Rajdhani is well known for their Gujarati-Rajasthani cooking. Another fine feasting eatery, Rajdhani is known for their must attempt dish-Rajasthani Thali. Cost for two is Rs. 900 roughly.

9. Shree Baanke Bihari Brijwasi Rasgulle Wala

This branch of Shree Baanke Bihari Brijwasi is popular all over north grounds for their Gulab Jamun, Ras-malai and Rabdi. Situated in Kamala Nagar, Brijwasi is a hotspot for individuals with a sweet tooth. Likewise attempt their Badam Milk which is similarly radiant in taste. Cost for two is Rs. 80 around.

10. Sattvik

Sattvik eatery is another popular fine eating eatery for vegans. Situated in DLF shopping center, Saket, Sattvik satisfies its name in the city. Renowned for their North Indian cooking, do attempt their colorful Til Wale Khatu Tandoori Aloo. Somewhat costly on pocket, cost for two is Rs. 1400 roughly.

11. Sustain Organics

This veggie lover hotspot is the main vegetarian sustenance put in Delhi. Situated in Meharchand Market, Lodhi settlement, Nourish Organics is renowned for their crude natural solid sustenance. Cost for two is Rs. 600 roughly. Do attempt their assortment of investigations with natural crude materials and body purging beverages.

12. Naivedyam

Situated in Hauz Khas Village, this veggie lover heaven is popular for its striking vibe and South Indian cooking. Must attempt dishes incorporate Rasam Vadai and South Indian Thali. Cost for two is Rs. 500 around.

13. Shraman-The Ashok

Shraman, situated in Hotel Ashok is another veggie lover hotspot that offers a fine feasting background. They are renowned for Rajasthani and North Indian food. The feeling is similarly alluring. Shraman's plain yet intriguing sustenance wins the unwavering ness of its clients. Must attempt their run of the mill Dal Bati Churma. Cost for two is Rs. 1800.

14. Bengali Sweet House

Situated in the heart of the city at Connaught Place, Bengali Sweet House is another most favored place for having a pocket well disposed vegan nourishment encounter. Celebrated for their pastries and road sustenance alongside North Indian and Chinese food, Bengali Sweet house is solely adored for their firm and tart chaat and in addition mouth-watering Gol-Gappe. Cost for two is Rs. 400 around.

15. Shree Rathnam

Shree Rathnam is another select South Indian eatery, flawlessly reasonable for your family excursions at a pocket-accommodating cost. Shree Rathnam chain of eateries have their outlets crosswise over Delhi; in New Friends Colony, Preet Vihar and Rohini. They serve North Indian and Chinese cooking as well. Must attempt their Butter Masala Dosa. Cost for two is Rs. 550 around.

#Flats For Sale In delhi #Property For Sale In delhi #Apartments For Sale In delhi #House For Sale In delhi

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