Oh the Places you will go

Sunday ramblings

We’re not really far into the solo era, but I just feel like by way of observation and reading/watching interviews lately, that it’s clear that them being solo artists is truly what’s best, and I don’t want them to ever go back to being a band like they used to. 

Just to brush on a few things.. 

Liam said recently that in 1D they were meant to show relentless enthusiasm at all times, and never discuss any negative aspects of their experience - which we as fans saw and got annoyed over several times… Shit went down that was never acknowledged and/or apologized for. Lima also mentioned that they never stopped to celebrate what they’d done. It was non-stop. Harry noted a similar thing in his RS interview when he said that the 1D tours were like a Wes Anderson movie. Cut. Cut. New location. Quick cut. New location. Cut. Cut. Show. Shower. Hard cut. Sleep. (which we all saw.. Like, Zayn developed an eating disorder whilst in the band, Liam had serious issues with alcohol, the partying, the drugs (hi weed scandal) like, there was so much stuff going on at certain points.)  Harry also mentioned in the doc that after 5 years of pressure, he finally didn’t feel any of it. And he admitted in another interview that he realized he was exhausted. (The fact that you could never truly pick up on that because he always gave 110% at every show makes me just in awe of his loyalty and work-ethic.) Hats off to Niall, Liam and Louis too, they all worked so fucking hard. Niall even said that he wasn’t as exhausted as the rest of them at the end, like, what kind of superhuman lol.. 

I remember Jeff mentioning that he was baffled by Harry’s writing talent, and how he realized that the Harry in One D was kind of the digitized Harry. Almost like a character. And like Harry said: “I wanted to write my stories, things that happened to me. The number-one thing was I wanted to be honest. I hadn’t done that before.” That says it all.. I also feel like in the last year or so, it was so clear that Harry was ready for his own career… On the last tour the interactions with the other boys were minimal, esp compared to the tours before. Journos/writers noted the same thing in their concert reviews. He was the one that was a little outside of it all. Watching what happened between Louis and Harry’s friendship throughout the years because of the larries was straight up awkward as hell. The months before Zayn left was awkward to watch, and after he left, Lilo became super close. Niall got along with all of them I feel, but even now, Harry is the odd one out. He never used to hang out with them outside of 1D obligations and I don’t think they see or talk to Harry much now either. (despite what Niall says to please 1D fans :p.) When you think about it, Harry’s sooooo fucking different from esp Louis and Liam. But let me also make it clear that I think Harry loved being in 1D. Unlike others, (ahem Zebra) he will never bite the hand that fed him. He’ll never discredit that time.

From MM and onwards, Lilo teamed up in writing sessions and got their songs through. (Def prob easier as a twosome.) Louis and Lima are loud and opinionated too, so I can only imagine some of those song discussions. (Not taking away from Lilo’s songwriting talent here, just looking at the big picture). Harry noted recently that he felt interrupted in the band as well. (super surprising lol) Interviews were often a mess, and the only one who had respect for Harry in those scenarios were Niall imo. 

After Harry left the band he took some time off to feel bored he said, but realized fast that he was dying to be in the studio again, ‘cause he had so much he wanted to say. And I think a huge part of that stemmed from him not being able to take time on lyrics and really write. An album a year, writing on the road, Lilo teaming up, with other hired writers putting their touches on each song, I think all of it hindered him to an extent. And Harry said in a recent interview that it def was weird to go into a writing session with strangers trying to be honest. And I think that’s partly why he was so anxious to get back in the saddle, why he was ready fairly quickly and why he was the first one to drop a solo album. He’d been writing for himself, planning, and building up for that moment for a long time. Maybe since he proposed the idea of them taking a break in late 2014. 

Another thing worth noting, in the Behind The Album doc is that he was SO fucking excited that he was in charge. His ideas were listened to. He was the boss, for the first time ever. When they said “Let’s first do Harry’s idea for” and Harry went “yeah, and then we’ll do Harry’s idea for something else, then after that, we’ll do another one of Harry’s ideas!”, like yeah he was joking around, but I also feel like that said so much.. And we can all get it, being in a band, like he said, every single decision was made in a democracy, and it was just time for him to make the desicions. To be a little scared.

And everyone can see the pure joy that’s Harry now. He’s soooooo happy. On stage, in interviews, everywhere. He has an energy now that is just amazing to see, he’s got that extra little spark that I didn’t see the last year or so in 1D. In Harry’s own words: “I’m having the time of my life working this [solo career] out.” and that’s clear as day. I also thought of when Cameron Crowe said that Harry couldn’t WAIT to start his interview with him. That he called him up and was SO enthusiastic, like practically giddy. And this quote from Harry is so heart-warming too. “There was something about playing the album and how happy I was that told them, [his parents] ‘If all I get is to make this music, I’m content.” ❤️ Like he stated in the doc too, he’s totally okay with not being on the level that he was in 1D again. 

And it goes for all the boys you know. I don’t follow their careers closely, but I’ve noted that they’ll all said they’re really happy that they went on this break and that they’re loving the freedom and being solo now, so it’s all good. They all look happy and well. And they’re all doing good which is nice to see. 

So yeah, just some Sunday night thoughts :) 

5

It took a lot of willpower to even go near the house - even more to force her hand to knock on the door. Once, twice, three times … and nothing. She waited, trying to peer into window but she just couldn’t see anything. 

Ember gave up and went back to the road, only to run into a neighbor. 

Ember: Hi, excuse me - do you know the Strouds? 

Neighbor: Oh yeah, they lived in this house - I’m the guy who lives in that place right across from them - 

Ember: Wait, wait - lived? 

Neighbor: Yeah, I heard they moved out a few months ago! Something about their son going to uni across the world or something -

Ember: O-oh. Across the world… 

Neighbor: I’m sorry - was he your friend or something? 

Ember: NO! I-I gotta go thank you for telling me. 

Olitz Weekly Fic Update: September 17-23

Happy Sunday! We hope you enjoy the latest chapter updates and new story entries. Please, take into consideration of all author notes’, ratings, etc., before you begin to read. Some topics are heavy and have trigger warnings. 

If we missed anything, please let us know. 

Thanks and happy reading! 


9/17

America’s Hero: Chapter 32 (T) - rachgreengeller

Love For My Child: Chapter 5 (M) - khialovesOlitz

Manifest Destiny: Chapter 2 (T) - whattoputthere

Metanoia: Chapter 7 (T) - PaperFrames

Not Her Father’s Daughter: Chapter 23 (T) - JustChilOut

Oh! The Places We Could Go: Chapter 21 (M) - RBGzMom

The Beginning To The End (K) - cbssoapsgirl

Young, Wild, and Free: Chapters 6, 7 * [Trigger Warnings] (M) - Ivy Amor / @ivymiamor


9/18

Let’s Figure This Out: Chapter 13 (M) - Sucker4Scandal

Love For My Child: Chapter 6 (M) - khialovesOlitz

My Secret: Chapter 20 (K) - FG3OP16

Some Other Me: #56 (M) - almostofamousoxo / @songbirdstrivestothrive

The Beginning To The End: Chapter 2 (K) - cbssoapsgirl

Vision: Chapter 15 (M) - Hydrangeasia 


9/19

The Merger (M) - Sucker4Scandal

The Visit: Chapters 8, 9 (T) - Ktss14

Watch Me: Chapters 2, 3 (T) - AgentRez / @democrattotheend


9/20

A Match To Remember (T) - Ktss14

Love and Freedom: Chapter 20 (M) - OliviaLovesFitz8

Shattering Expectations: Chapter 148 (M) - CMW2 / @trumpetnista

The Sovereign Life: Chapter 5 (T) - justawriter008

The Thunderbolt: Chapter 37 (M) - CMW2 / @trumpetnista 

The Visit: Chapter 10 / Epilogue (T) - Ktss14

Unexpected Joy: Chapter 6 (M) - AlexisHasson

Young, Wild, and Free: Chapter 8 (M) - Ivy Amor / @ivymiamor


9/21

After The Swirl: Chapter 23 (M) - fitzgerald1

Be My Downfall: Chapter 26 (M) - EbonyBeach / @babybemydownfall

Let’s Figure This Out: Chapter 14 (M) - Sucker4Scandal

Look After You: Chapter 6 (M) - musesofthemind / @musesoftheminds

Love For My Child: Chapter 7 (M) - khialovesOlitz

Some Other Me: #57 (M) - almostfamousoxo / @songbirdstrivestothrive


9/22

Fitz and Fixer: Chapter 27 (T) - Da Princes and Me’s / @scandalmistress

Girl From The Hamptons (T) - Ktss14

Removing the Curtain: Chapter 2 (T) - Ktss14


9/23

Favorable Optics: Chapter 5 (M) - loveoverpride / @lovesbiggerthanpride

It Happened That Night: Chapter 14 (M) - fitzgerald1

2

Darius: You know, I’m curious, how did you find me back then? 

Bristol: I used a locator spell. Placed it on your wallet and the thing basically turned into a compass - took me right here. Isn’t that what you’d do?

Darius: And you got the locator spell to work on the first try?

Bristol: Yes. I did my best to perform it correctly.

Darius: Impressive.

Bristol blushes. It makes him pleased to have impressed someone like Darius.

Darius considers the facts: his grandson has a lot of raw talent. With that at hand… oh the possibilities!!!

Bristol: I have to go now. It’s almost eleven and I’m supposed to help out at home.

Darius: Of course. How do they feel about you coming here to see me?

Bristol lies.

- They’re cool with it, as long as I don’t neglect my school studies.

Darius knows the boy lies. Which is for the best - he doesn’t want his daughter snooping.

Jack Avery - My Brother's Best Friend

Summary: Your brother, Daniel, has been friends with Jack for years, and when you start to get feelings for him, you KNOW you have to start avoiding them.

A/N: I know Jack and Daniel didn’t go to the same school, or lived in the same place, but it’s an imagine, so shut up! 😇

Warning: none

Your perspective:

I walked into school, staring at my phone screen; great - Melissa, my best friend, had forgotten to finish the presentation that was due today. I’d done my half, yet we’d both still fail. I was just about to reply with an angry response, but my phone was knocked out of my hand, and I was pushed onto the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m SO sorry!” the person hat had pushed you down said.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going- Oh, hey Jack..” I realised it was him as I looked up to give the best bitch face of all time, but quickly stopped myself when I realised it was my brother’s best friend, Jack Avery. 

“I’m really sorry, y/n, here.” He said, taking my hand. I grabbed it and hauled myself up. I stopped right in front of him, our noses barely an inch away. His gorgeous brown eyes staring into my soul… NO, Y/N! You can’t do this! He’s your brothers best friend, for god sake - he probably thinks of you as a sister! But I couldn’t help staying there for a few more moments..I wish I hadn’t though, as I soon heard a:

“Y/n! Jack! What are you doing???” Daniel’s voice made me jump back, away from Jack.

“erm..I-I just knocked y/n over, so I was helping her up..” Jack said nervously. Daniel looked at us suspiciously before telling Jack they had to go to class and dragged him away from where I was standing. Just as they were about to turn onto a different hallway, he looked back at me with such an angry face. I sighed and walked to my locker. 

After English class, where I got scolded for not doing the presentation, I left school with a frown on my face - I can’t believe I like Jack..I mean, I can’t. It’s not possible.

“I can’t believe I like Jack…” I huffed under my breath as I walked home. Suddenly, I felt a tight grip  around me, coming from behind. “I can’t believe you like me too.” he said. I turn around to see Jack standing there, his eyes red. 

“Have you been crying, Jack?” I asked, pulling him into a hug.

“Your brother accused me of liking you..” he said, which made my heart break - he didn’t like me. He probably wants to let me down easy.. “it’s then that made me realise that I did..” My eyes lit up. “I’ve been crying because I can’t believe I didn’t tell you earlier; I thought I’d lost you..”

“Never.” I said, and pulled him into a kiss.

~~~

I hope you enjoyed this small story - I haven’t proof read it so I don’t know if it makes sense - sorry if it doesn’t. There’ll be more fanfics to come!

The Enterprise crew as (extremely) drunk


Kirk: Flirts with a plant and gets upset when it says no, but in the next day, wake up in a unknown bed at a unknown house hugging a bottle full of Mexican beans


Spock: Gets mad when, according to him, “this place is too yellow!” or “I CAN’T SIT DOWN! My chair isn’t straight”


Bones: Sings “Ocean man” 74 times and cries more and more when the chorus repeat


Scotty: “Look at that! That’s gorgeous! Oh, if I had one I’d never let go! Oh my God, look at this shape” at the soda dispenser machine


Sulu: Everyone thinks he’s sleeping, but he’s actually paying attention to everything that’s happen- “Pick up that can and put it on the trash, you dirty bastard”


Chekov: “Want to see a magic trick?” then he flips a card “is this your card?” the other person shakes their had, negatively “OF COURSE NOT” as if he already knew it


Uhura: Dances wildly thinking she’s just perfect but actually she looks like a birb agonizing in the song’s rytim


Chapel: “Alcohol is bad for your-” drinks vodka in a sippy cup “-organs”


Jaylah: “I’M SO MAD AT YOU ALL! STUPID PEOPLE, STUPID PLACE, STUPID CAT- Look! A kitty!”

Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @onepetal, so here we go!

1. Which scene/paragraph/sentence are you the most proud of?

-Each one of my works has a sentence or paragraph that I’m proud of. If it doesn’t, that’s how I know that I’ve got some editing to do.

2. For which work/piece of work do you get comments telling how marvelous it is, while you’re not that enthralled by that piece yourself?

- “Mine,” which is an InuYasha fic. Don’t get me wrong- it’s my first and it will always have a special place in my heart, but it needs some serious tweaking before I’ll be happy with it.

3. Which character highjacked the story they’re in?

-Oh, that’d be Bruce, for sure. Don’t believe me? Go check out “Neighbors” and see for yourself!

4. Which sentence/kind of sentence do you overuse?

- I have a problem with over description. And using a semicolon…

5. Which work of yours would you be dying to get fanart for?

-any! @nonstopdoodle made something for “Netflix and Sniffles,” and I’ll love it until my dying day!

6. Which work would you rather forget?

-A few from the Soul Eater fandom that are just plain cringe-worthy. I’ll get around to either editing them or deleting them someday.

7. Do you have a project you never got the nerves/guts to write?

-No, but I do have one that I never got around to finishing. (Lookin’ at you, “Speak Up”)

8. For which fandom have you written the most? (can be original fic, say if you count in terms of words, chapters or fics)

-Akagami no Shirayukihime, with Soul Eater right behind it. I’ve started dabbling in Akatsuki no Yona, so it could change! ;)


I tag @grapefruitwannabe, @xaphrin and @codango

hope you’re doing fine ❖ sungjae

D R A B B L E G A M E

anon requested: 🌸 - hope you’re doing fine by btob and yook sungjae | thank you!


genre: fluff, angst, slice of life
hope you like it, buttercup ♡
- velvet

(gif not mine, cr to the owner)


You looked down in your cup, the mix of milk, cinnamon and coffee not only smelled sweet, but even looked heavenly. A winter night never looked this great, one of the three cafeterias that remained open at night in Seoul was almost empty at four and twenty-six in the morning. In the place only you, a couple and a family with a little baby, probably stopping by from a long journey that was going to bring them to one of their parents’ house, there to spend the Christmas holidays.

Oh, and Sungjae, he was there too. The yellow lights on his soft skin were almost soothing, you enjoyed looking at the shadows the light were creating like you never did in your life. Or maybe once you did, but you were too young then to now remember it. Now you were twenty-one, the age you really wanted to have when you were young, fifteen or sixteen, you can’t remember really well.

Being twenty-one now that you had it wasn’t looking as good as what you once imagined, school was still there and work overlapped, your parents’ house was now only your parent’s house because you had to find your own apartment near the university where you were studying. Away from your town.

Fun fact, almost a month after your transfer Yook Sungjae became your neighbor and the boy who gave you rides to the school since he had classes almost everyday and you still didn’t have a car. Yes, that Yook Sungjae, the same child you were in a relationship with when you were only eleven and he was only fifteen, but you both still managed to last three full months: the summer break.

Are you happy?❞ he suddenly asked, tearing you out of your thoughts. His voice was calm, deep and soft, tired just like his eyes and the flickering sound of the lights were giving to the scene a great aesthetic. You almost felt in a movie or some second hand book scene.

I don’t know❞ you muttered dropping your head on your clenched fist, your elbow keeping your hand high, while the other hand started to mix the foamy substance in your cup. ❝Are you?

Sungjae simply shrugged, his eyes leaving his cup of coffee and finding your tired face, admiring the little crinkles of slumber and the light purple bags under your eyes.

You know❞ he started fidgeting a little on his seat, calling for your attention so that your eyes shot up and looked at his form. ❝I actually thought of you during these years❞ he chuckled, the thought of him thinking about you - an eleven years old little girl - made you giggle too. ❝I don’t know, at fifteen I thought you were my first love

You bit your bottom lip and his voice dropped some octaves, now hoarse and a little sad. His mind swimming in the memories of you two: how young you were and how good you now looked, all grown and intelligent. Sungjae couldn’t stop himself from wondering how your life would have been if you two were still together as a couple. Maybe, deep down, Sungjae still wanted you, maybe he fell in love with you again, with the new you and that only made him understand that it didn’t matter your age or for how long you both lived apart, you were a big point in his life.

Was I your first girlfriend?❞ you smiled tiredly, your fist melting and your fingers twirling between your hair. Sungjae looked at the movements, the way your hair fell between the spaces of your fingers, for him you looked surreal.

No, I told you. Just my first love


our masterlist!

what did you think about this chapter? :3

anonymous asked:

would evan and connor like.. hook up in the stacks

oh my god

no i dont think they would cause its connors place of work and thats…kind of weird

just know that this ask killed me, because the other day my lgbt studies professor was talking about when/where he was growing up, if you were gay, libraries were the place to go hook up. to quote him “we didnt have grindr”

ALSO UH PSA

This is no excuse and I’m working on fixing the issue but I promise I’m not ignoring people who dm me or discord me.

I’ve been low MP as of late due to emotional stress and… if I’m honest I haven’t been eating healthy or going for my daily work outs/getting enough sleep. Tomorrow I’m getting back into that routine and hopefully gonna hang out at a new place in town.They have body pillows on display so.. oh boy what the HELL.

Thank  you all for being patient. Love y’all!

anonymous asked:

for the self-ship meme: 1, 4, & 15 !! ☆

1. How did you two meet?

Oh man. How did I meet Red. Okay so, I don’t like going outside. Or to places with large crowds, so it was probably online. I bet he said something stupid, either on tumblr or some other website, and I decided to message him to tell him a few shitty jokes involving it.

4. Do you have petnames for each other?

BOY DO WE. I usually go with the classics; babe, hon, sweetheart. If I’m feeling particularly affectionate, I’ll call him love. Red goes for babe, sweetheart, sweetcheeks, doll. When we’re teasing each other, I’ll call him bone daddy and he’ll call me sugar momma.

15. Happiest moment together?

There isn’t any one moment. The times where we’re happiest is when we’re both in bed cuddling, just enjoying the quiet of the night. It’s peaceful and relaxing, and it feels safe.

Noir subgenres

- Fantasy noir: Pour another one, Joe. My dragon left me for some clean-shaven cape-wearing foreign hero with an accent so thick you could hear the fake passport in his voice.

- Existential noir: these are mean streets to have an empty life in, kid. Thinkers nurse a hangover from their disgust of life for fifty years then roll over and die. This is how we run things in our city. Play it again, will you.

- Southern Gothic Noir: look at yourself, boy. They’ve got names for people who carry the Bible like that. They’ve got names for everything around here. And if you don’t get it the first time the walls will whisper it back to you.

– Noir Mythology: She was a priestess at some local temple. One of those temple only people who pray for a pint of bourbon and a life insurance go to. And she had a face that meant trouble, make no mistake. But not after Zeus turned her into a cow. Not after Zeus turned her into a cow.

- Noir meta-Shakespeare: Characters like us, Horatio. We weren’t born to grow old and mean. We faff around, we mix a stiff one, and then we die. But when we die, we die hard and we make sure we bring the whole damn city down with us.

- Noir Milton: Heaven looked high class from fifty feet away but from five feet away it looked like the kind of place meant to be seen from fifty feet away. Stay there long enough you get a double pint of Hell’s Bells. Real hell is my business now. Real hell is how I make my nickel.

- Noir William Blake: She was the sort of tiger a bishop would paint crosses on his front door against. You can’t tell anything from tigers like that. She could have had the sheriff in the back room. She could have been making millions. But you could tell she burned bright in all the right places. Oh, she burned bright all right.

- Noir Dylan Thomas: Alright, old man. Amateur hour is over. You go down kicking and screaming or you don’t go down at all, you get my meaning?

- Noir Keats: Outside, the Autumn smelled of politics: it asked only for the highest types of men and had nothing to offer them but bleating lambs and the song of crickets. The sort of autumn that shares his smokes and his wife with the maturing sun. “I don’t like Spring,” the kid said. “That’s all right, sonny boy. I ain’t selling it.”

- Noir Edgar Allan Poe: You could tell from the way he sauntered in the bird meant business. He had the kind of beak that could drive a nail through your forehead. Didn’t string more than two words together but he knew all the right ones all the same. He knew which ones stung. “I don’t want no birds in my room,” I said, loud enough for hell to hear. But birds like that don’t just scram. Birds like that stick to you like a bad divorce from a Hollywood diva.

hey SVtFoE fandom/fans of the trans Marco theory!!

 I wanna tell you about a character named Zadie

she is from the Amazon Prime all-ages cartoon “Danger & Eggs” and she is explicitly and unambiguously a trans girl

in the 13th episode (which is titled “Chosen Family” and yes it is about exactly that, oh and it takes place during Pride) she sings a song about her first day of school after transitioning 

and everyone loves and accepts her and it’s the most precious and beautiful thing, like I was genuinely almost moved to tears also the creator of the show (Shadi Petosky) is a trans woman herself

so I just wanted to share her with you guys, I feel like you’d really appreciate her :’)

(PS go get an amazon prime trial and watch all of Danger & Eggs because it hasn’t been confirmed for a second season yet and really REALLY needs support!!!! big cartoon fandom help a smaller one out…??)

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.

~

He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.

~

When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.

~

Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.

~

Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.

~

Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.

~

Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.

~

Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.

~

For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.

~

Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.

~

Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.


gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

Another kinky wager

Summary: As he previously promised, Bucky helps you work out all those irritating little kinks in your pool game.
Characters: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Absolutely NSFW. It’s all sex and pool tables folks, please walk away unless you’re over 18.  

A/N: Decided to write a follow-up to ‘Pool balls and underpants’, because I just couldn’t move on without a smutty sequel. This can read as a stand-alone story, but it will make more sense why Bucky’s wearing Steve’s underwear if you read the first part. And besides, who doesn’t love reading sassy sexual innuendos from Bucky Barnes?

Also, I meant this to be short, and once again my imagination spiralled out of control, and here we are. I regret nothing.

Pool balls and underpants 
MASTERLIST


He’s startled for a moment, before a sly smile stretches across his face, and he whips around to follow, white socks slipping and sliding on the smooth tiles as he chases after you.

Keep reading

No, zat vas a yoke

This is actually from a larp I npc for, not a table top, but long context short, last weekend the GMs brought back a character I play, a very very old, curse happy Viking witch, to finish up one of the PC’s, Serenity’s, personal plots. Serenity’s parents showed up and were tearing into her for all the dangerous and (by their culture’s standards) sinful things she’s been up to. And then I had to go and break a curse I placed on their bloodline that anyone that line falls in love with will die unless they sacrifice themselves in their place. I do the thing.

Other PC to Serenity’s boyfriend: Oh good, now you won’t die!

Serenity’s mother: wHAT??? *proceeds to make the biggest scene ever, including interrogating the boyfriend and asking if he intended to marry her daughter*

My curse happy witch: *walks slowly away to other people* Vell, Zis is getting messy, even for me. I sink I might stop cursing people…

Other people: Good! We would thank you for it!

My witch: No, zat vas yoke, zat is all I do. Zis is zee most fun I hef hed in years.

I Think I’m In Love With You

Author: ceruleanbucky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

WARNINGS: SMUT, cursing, oral (male and female receiving), UNPROTECTED SEX, fingering, sexual tension, fluff, and overall sin.

A/N: guy’s I’ve updated twice in like a week and a half what is happening?!?! I mean, it’s not necessarily bad. Also, this fic is hella long, and I;m not going to lie, I’m really proud of it. Hope you guys like it! Part two of “Seven Minutes In Heaven” is coming next week.


You wake up with a start, breathing heavily and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You tried to recall what it was you were dreaming about, but to no avail. You eventually give up, thinking that it was another nightmare.

You glance at your alarm clock, wondering about the time. Seeing that you have two more hours to sleep, you gladly roll over and go back to sleep.

When your alarm goes off, you feel even more tired than you were earlier. You still manage to drag yourself out of bed, and start your day. It’s then when you smell the bacon, and the coffee. Perking up at the idea of a good breakfast, you put on some more decent pyjamas, and head to the kitchen. Most people are still asleep, seeing as the sun is only just rising, so you wonder who is in the kitchen. You step in, and find Bucky cooking up a storm.

“Sad, or mad?” You ask as you walk in, knowing it’s one of the two. He looks at you with confusion, so you rephrase.

“Are you cooking because you’re sad, or because you’re pissed off? Because I know you, Bucky, and it’s only one of those two.” You smirk at your friend, earning a smirk back.

“Neither actually.” He side-eyes, adding to your curiosity.

Keep reading

southern hospitality

bitty has outgrown this place, and the people in it.

tw: homophobic language/slurs

word count: 1800

for @stitchedopen, 3rd place winner in my fic giveaway! i hope you like it!


The clinking of Jack’s fork against his plate as he sets it down is very unnerving. It’s not the only sound in the room but it’s by far the loudest, to him at least. Even louder than Suzanne’s pleasant babbling (no wonder where Bitty gets it from) and the gentle lull of music being played on a radio somewhere in another room. Probably the kitchen, where Bitty’s finishing up supper.

There’s a shuffling around the corner and Coach becomes visible as he nears the bottom of the staircase. “Jack,” he mumbles gruffly in greeting, giving him a nod and sitting at the head of the table.

“Hello, Mr. Bittle,” Jack replies, smiling a little. “How’s the season going? Still the reigning champs of Morgan County?” If there’s one thing Jack knows he can get Coach to talk about, it’s football. It might be a much different sport than hockey, Jack surmises, but the passion they share for their sports is more than enough for them to hold a conversation.

“Oh, they lost their first game of the season last week. Nevin’s got an injury and we had to switch around the lineups– you remember, Nevin, receiver, curly hair, he’s in the team picture in the living room– anyway, I’m sure it hurt their chemistry.” Coach would talk strategy with Jack for hours, if it was up to him, but Eric is coming into the dining room now. He’s got on yellow oven mitts with tiny white flowers, and he’s holding a tray with a roast and some vegetables.

“The meat’s a little dry, Lord help me, I should stick to baking,” Eric laughs, setting the tray down on the table. “But all the vegetables should be good and I’ve got some pumpkin muffins with a fantastic cream cheese frosting waiting for us in the kitchen.” Everyone starts to serve themselves. The meat’s not dry at all, but Jack keeps that to himself. Sometimes Bitty needs little things to dwell on, to keep himself busy so he’s not worrying so much about the big stuff. Jack knows that.

“So,” Suzanne starts after a minute, and Jack can tell that this is going to be a long one. He glances up at her, a signal that he’s listening. “The Gardeners are having a potluck this Friday, and they sent us an invitation.”

Bitty nearly drops his fork. “The Gardeners?” he hisses. “As in, Melissa and Kyle?”

“Those Gardeners,” Suzanne replies smugly. Jack and Coach exchange a look, humor gleaming in both of their eyes. The drama is about to unfold, they can tell. “What right do they think they’ve got, inviting us to their potluck after what happened at ours?”

Bitty turns to Jack, waving his hands as he speaks. “Two summers ago, we held a potluck here for the neighborhood, and when the Gardeners showed up, Kyle was drunk as a skunk and knocked over our entire dessert table. The whole thing! It was all ruined! And it would have been okay, but they didn’t even bring anything to the potluck in the first place, and they never apologized, and oh, it was such a mess, everyone tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal but darlin’ you should’ve seen the look on Moomaw’s face, I swear she was on the verge of a heart attack.” He shifts abruptly back toward Suzanne. “Mama, we’ve got to go.”

“Oh, I know that, of course we do. Dicky, what you’ve gotta do is bake the best pie those folks have ever tasted, let them know exactly what they were destroying when they had the nerve-”

Jack hums quietly, making a mental note. Potluck on Friday. Prepare for a spectacle.

-

Bitty’s fingers press against Jack’s neck as he helps him straighten his collar. Jack doesn’t really need the help, he supposes, but the contact is welcome, brief but full of warmth, not the kind of affection Jack usually gets when they’re with Bitty’s parents. They’ve been trying really hard, Jack can tell, and Bitty has too. But he understands why Eric sometimes has trouble being soft with Jack around Suzanne and Coach.

“Don’t you just look dashing,” Bitty says with a smile, placing his hand flat on Jack’s chest.

“Only because you picked my outfit,” Jack laughs. Bitty laughs with him, nodding in agreement. He’s got little crinkles at the edges of his eyes when he laughs, and Jack rubs his thumb over them, absent minded.

“You ready, Dicky?” Suzanne calls from the kitchen. The noises of the coffee pot stop and Jack can hear her pouring herself a cup.

“All ready!” Bits yells back. He reaches up his hand and squeezes Jack’s wrist before whirling around into the kitchen. Jack watches Bitty’s hips swing as he leaves, his jeans a little tighter than usual since he’s outgrown some of the clothes that he left here during the school year, and wonders if wore them on purpose.

-

The potluck is bustling. There are people of all ages, from the tiny toddlers playing in the Slip ‘N Slide far left in the back yard to the old ladies knitting underneath the sugar maple next to the house in a comically stereotypical manner. Jack opens Eric’s door for him not out of chivalry but out of necessity– when he emerges from the car, his arms are full of tupperware containers.

“Let me take some, bud” Jack offers, but Bitty shakes his head.

“I’ve got to bring them over myself.”

-

“This one’s cherry with a lattice crust,” Eric is explaining as he removes the lid from the nearest tupperware container. The egregious Melissa Gardener turns out to be a petite brunette with a smattering of freckles across her upturned nose. “And this one’s pumpkin, I know it’s not really the season but I had some materials left over from the muffins I made the other night and I’m sure it’ll be just delightful, I made the whipped cream myself– now, they’re all desserts. I was sure you’d need some.”

Jack stifles a laugh. The bite in Bitty’s voice is unmistakable. “Where should I set them?” Eric asks, still sweet as sugar but with a lilt that suggests this isn’t an innocent question. “This table seems a little… unsteady. I wouldn’t want them to fall, heaven forbid.”

“This table’s fine,” Melissa ensures him, smiling. “Thank you so much for the contributions.”

“It’s nothing at all.”

They burst out laughing as soon as she leaves, Bitty collapsing into Jack’s chest. Jack’s arms come around him automatically and squeeze. “Bits, that was cold.”

“Really? Here I was, thinking I was being so courteous.”

They stay in the embrace for a few more seconds before Bitty shifts away from Jack. It’s subtle, but Jack understands. He squeezes Bitty’s shoulder and then takes a step away. Bitty’s out to everyone who matters, but some people don’t know. And some still have their prejudices.

“Bits, where’s the bathroom?” Jack asks. The noise is already getting to him. He knows he’s got a while of this to go, and he’s sure he’ll be fine, but he just needs a minute to adjust. Eric points him in the right direction, then goes back to arranging the pies on the table.

“Eric!” Bitty whips around. It’s a tall guy with acne scars in a red polo shirt. Bitty looks up, his face ghostly stricken for a second, then paints a big smile on.

“Hey, Todd,” he replies as the guy moves closer. “How have you been.”

“I’ve been fine, thanks,” Todd says. Eric tugs on the bottom of his shirt and glances over at Jack, entering the house. “Who’s the guy?” Todd asks, nodding toward him.

“Jack,” Eric says. “My… my boyfriend.”

Todd smiles. He turns his gaze to Bitty. “I’ve gotta say, Eric, I’m impressed! I expected you to come home with some twinky faggot in a pink H&M scarf.”

Eric inhales sharply. “Go away,” he says quietly, looking at his shoes. “My love life is none of your business.”

“We all knew you were a homo, Bittle, I guess it’s just a little surprising that you’re still showing your face around here. Are you queers ever gonna stop shoving your agenda in our faces? Huh? Go back to Samwell, eh?” He’s inching closer now, and Eric’s cheeks are flaming red.

“Go fuck yourself,” Eric mutters, turning his back. He unstacks a tin of macadamia nut cookies from his lemon meringue, and opens it. His hands are shaking as he spreads them out artfully.

Todd ignores his response, instead reaching over Bitty and sweeping up several cookies. “Don’t mind if I do,” he says as he stuffs one in his mouth. “Mmm,” he replies, smirking. “They’re a little bit… fruity, don’t you think?”

“That’s not even funny,” Eric rolls his eyes. “Get the hell away from me.”

“And if I don’t?”

There’s a hand on the back of Bitty’s neck and he’s flinching, he’s freezing, he can’t move he can’t breathe–

“If you don’t,” Jack whispers, his voice robotic and cold. “I’ll beat the shit out of you, and you can crawl home to your mother and tell her you got your ass handed to you by a faggot. Does that sound like a good enough reason to stop?”

Todd takes a step back. “Don’t you fucking touch me,” he hisses at Jack. “You’re not from around here, are you? You don’t know who my dad is, do you?”

“Let me guess. Mayor of some town I’ve never heard of? Principal of the local high school? Do you know who my father is, noune?” Jack puffs up his shoulders. “Because I can guaran-fucking-tee that my dad is a hell of a lot worse to mess with than yours. So you might just wanna step off.”

“Whatever. I shouldn’t be talking to y’all anyway. Just in case it’s contagious, you know?” Todd smirks.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Jack says, still matter of fact, balling his fists and lunging toward Todd. Todd flinches, but the blow doesn’t come. Bitty’s caught the back of Jack’s t-shirt in his hand.

“Jack, honey, it’s okay. I can handle it.”

Todd laughs.

“But this– this asshole–”

“Trust me, sweetpea, I’ve got this.” Eric smiles.

“Yeah, you’re sure gonna take care of me, Bittle, what can you weigh, a hundred and ten? I bet you couldn’t even–”

Splat.

“Pity,” Eric says sweetly as the pie tin slides down Todd’s face, then down his shirt, coating him in cherry filling. “That lattice crust was gorgeous.”

“You– you–” Todd splutters, wiping cherry crud out of his eyes, but Bitty and Jack are already walking away.

“Enjoy the snacks, Melissa,” Eric calls over his shoulder as they make their way to the car. “We’re gonna head out.”