#whoops I completely forgot to tag my name on here so you know I still made it

[emilylsart]

Here have some Matthew Patels I drew some weeks ago based on some poses from the movie 'cause I gotta say they are quite epic :)

Which one's your favorite mine's almost all of them LOL I did pretty good

[team-heavenly]

Chapter 11

You missed an Easter Egg

Wait, seriously? Shit *snags Easter egg basket and runs off*

Actually, this post is going to be a little different this time. I am placing one of the dungeons (specifically the Northern Desert replacement) into its own post. Because so much craziness happened that I can’t possibly fit it all onto here along with everything else.

So, uh. Look forward to that shortly. (And click here to see Part 2!)

Last time, on Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of What, Beedrill called us over on an urgent mandate. And urgent it was.

“It would be extremely bad if a third Time Gear were to be taken” -Tropius during Chapter 10

Uh... whoops.

And the one from Fogbound Lake, no less, adding insult to injury.

I wonder how true of a statement this is. Dusknoir Gulpin builds himself up as worldly and wise; he actually has the knowledge to back it up, too. Especially since he came to the past knowing Grovyle’s Togetic’s mission! It would be absurd for him not to do his research and act accordingly.

Huh. I’d never considered this before, but now it makes sense. He’s totally feigning ignorance here.

Teresa looks in the mirror and sees a warped reflection. She knows it is not her fault, but she still weeps, for it is her son staring back at her...

This is fun lol I’m so holding on to this headcanon.

How humbling it is, to have... a giant stomach in our corner.

We get the order to stock up in Nautical Cottage, and naturally the first thing I do is run to the other Gulpin.

Thank. Goodness.

This was a pleasant surprise! See, the last PMD game I played was Blue Rescue Team, so my mind defaulted to “new recruits are gone if they faint.” But I forgot that’s totally not the case in Explorers! She is risen, alleluia.

And here’s the moveset of my own Gulpin (So many Gulpin! Is this the Three Muskateers?). Miracle Eye doesn’t help much, but the punch moves hit pretty decently with a Power Band. Level 37 is pretty hella for this point in the game, too. So I had him tag along for the journey.

*grabby hands* Gib. Me. Assignment.

OK so two things here:

1) I totally didn’t take a shot for the Eastern Forest group?? Either I was distracted, or I didn’t bother because the name was unchanged. I honestly don’t remember for sure...

2) Looks like Crystal Cavern is the Questionable Causeway

Wait... a castle.. in the desert? Do you mean... we’re going to Relic Castle?!

Oh we are so going to Relic Castle. Unova region, here we come!

I mean, that kind of goes without saying, Andrea.

Oh look, here is the dungeon that utterly kicked my ass straight through Sunday (literally), go read about it here!!

...Alright, now that you’ve had several laughs at my expense, we return to the main program.

*collapses into the sand* It better f*cking be!!

Ah, darn, seems like a dead end. And yet...

But Teresa is terrible at communicating as usual, so that’s that for the day. We go back to the guild for an update.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Magby admonishes him here, but also... if Beedrill didn’t do this, the plot might have come to a standstill. That crystal ends up being very useful later.

Ah, geez. Why do I feel like I’ve just been thrown into the ocean and asked to find land? Although we did happen to have a life raft.

Wha? No, I want to go back to the end of Nonsensical Castle. As long as we don’t have to go through that dungeon again.

Yeaaah, I know, but there’s this crazy thing I totally forgot until now, aha...

Andrea: *rubs flippers together* “Well that’s that, let’s go through all that again just to confirm a vague hunch you have!”

“But it still seems like there’s nothing here.”

100% appropriate that you, as the “human from the future hellbent on completing a suicide mission,” keep suggesting borderline suicidal means of moving forward skddfjhfdf.

*beep* IMAGE CAPACITY REACHED... TO CONTINUE, CLICK HERE.

[the-iceni-bitch]

For smutty prompts: 97) “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.”

With Andy or Ransom? Anyone really 😂

Oooookkkkk, this is gonna be Ransom, cause I’ve had a similar idea to this for him for a while now.

What, the OTP again, you say? You guys just keep lining them up for me 😉

Tagging the OTP babes @stargazingfangirl18 @chrissquares @subtlebucky @egcdeath

Send me smutty prompts!!!

Again, 18+ only guys, this is straight up porn!

You had never been more bored in your life.

It was Linda and Richards’ 40th anniversary, and they were throwing a giant party at a fancy hotel in downtown Boston. Of course you had to go, you and Ransom were pretty established now, as much as Linda hated it.

It was literally just a bunch of old money families that Linda was trying to ingrain herself to, bunch of stuffed suits that had nothing better to talk about than summering in the Hamptons or their brand new yachts or whatever the fuck the obscenely rich and out of touch loved to drone on about.

You’d lost track of the number of gin and tonics you consumed an hour ago, keeping yourself glued to Ransom’s side purely because you needed someone to roll your eyes at and he was your only option.

“How you feeling there, sweetheart?” He asked as some ancient man with a name like Chauncey or something finally walked away from you after chatting at you about his damn hunting lodge for what felt like an hour.

“Please kill me.” You whined, running your hand over your face before taking another sip of your drink as he chuckled at you. “Just break your glass and shove the shards into my throat.”

“I thought you were used to talking to rich people?” He said. “Isn’t that all you do at that charity of yours?”

“Those are rich liberals.” You said as you chugged the rest of your drink. “Who also aren’t the best, but at least I don’t have to listen to them complain about environmental regulations the whole time.”

“Well, why don’t we give my parents those super thoughtful gifts you got them then get the fuck out of here?” He said, taking your glass from you.

“Yes, please.” You said grabbing the presents you’d spent way too long on and following him through the crowd.

It didn’t take you long to find Richard and Linda, at the center of a flurry of activity. You waited patiently for them to be free before stepping in front of them, Ransom wrapping a protective hand around your waist.

“Mom, Dad, Y/N and I are gonna head out but we wanted to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary and give you your gifts.” He said, his fingers drumming against your side with nervous energy.

“Yes, happy anniversary you two.” You said, giving them a forced grin as you handed them their presents.

“Oh you can’t leave yet, Ransom.” Linda said, completely ignoring you. “There’s someone here I want you to meet. Muffy!”

Ransom let out a groan as Linda wandered off to grab some uptight looking woman who was about your age but who looked about as bored as you felt. Richard just gave his son a clap on the shoulder and gave you a lecherous grin, before turning to head to the bar.

“Gross.” You muttered before turning back to you boyfriend. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, babe?”

“Yeah, my mom’s been trying to get me to go out with this Muffy chick for months.” He said nervously, loosening his tie around his throat. “I think her parents own a textile conglomerate or something. I thought she would’ve let up once we made it official but I guess not.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Linda was shoving the poor girl at Ransom and trying to get the two of them to chat, still pointedly ignoring you.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said as he pulled you even closer.

“Hi Muffy, it’s my pleasure.” You said, offering her your hand as you beamed at Linda, who was looking very unhappy. “So sorry to cut this short, but we really do need to get going. Always great to see you, Linda.”

You dragged Ransom away from the crowd by his tie. He made a small sound of surprise when you turned away from the exit and started to head towards the bathroom.

“Babe, the exit’s that way.” He muttered, grinning at you.

You turned around and brought his face to meet yours, smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss, running your tongue over his teeth before breaking away and leaving him breathless.

“I know where the exit is, but there’s something I want to take care of first.” You murmured as he rested his forehead against yours. “Now go make sure there’s no one in the bathroom, and I’ll make you come so good baby.”

“Fuck, don’t gotta tell me twice.” He muttered before striding inside.

He was only gone for a few seconds before popping back out and dragging you in after him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around him.

“So...” you murmured as he set you on the counter, his lips moving all over your neck and shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me your mom was trying to set you up with a socialite?”

“Didn’t really seem important.” He muttered against your chest as he slotted himself between your thighs. “It’s not like I was actually gonna do anything with her.”

“Right.” You said as you started to undo his belt.

You removed his belt and started to work on undoing his fly, sighing as he sucked a bruise against your throat. You tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs and wrapped your hand around his cock, making him groan.

“Whose cock is this baby?” You purred as he straightened up to rest his forehead against yours, your grip on his length tightening as he hissed between his teeth.

“Shit, you’re mad.” He mumbled as you squeezed him harder, biting your lip as you watched precum leak from his angry tip.

“Not mad, baby.” You murmured, running your thumb over his slit and making him groan. “Just feel like maybe your need a little reminder. Now tell me whose cock this is.”

“Fuck, it’s your cock.” He moaned as you smeared his precum over your fingers and dragged your hand over his length.

“That’s right baby.” You whispered as you brought your hand up to cup his cheek. “All mine. Just like this pretty mouth.”

He hummed as you slipped your fingers into his mouth and continued to draw your hand over his dick. His tongue swirled around your fingers as you pushed them further into his mouth, nudging the back of his throat as you slid off the counter.

“Look at you taking my fingers so good baby.” You cooed at him as you moved to stand behind him, sliding your fingers out of his mouth. “You know what else is mine?”

His breath hitched as you ran your hand over the curve of his ass, teasing your finger around the rim of his puckered hole, your other hand still drawing over his length as you bent him over the counter.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He groaned as you slid your finger inside him, arching his back into your hand.

“Ooh, baby, you are so fucking ready for me aren’t you?” You purred at him as you stretched him open, his cock twitching in your grip. “I own you, Hugh. This is my body, sweetheart, I can play you like a damn fiddle.”

He cried out as you slipped another finger inside him, scissoring them in his pretty hole as you curled over his back and pressed soft kisses against his neck. You shoved them even further inside him until they were nudging his prostate, and he swallowed a scream as your hand moved even faster over his cock.

“Mmm, sing for me pretty boy.” You murmured into his hair. “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this. Now cum for me sweetheart.”

You sank your teeth into his neck as you shoved a third finger inside him, your other hand squeezing his cock. Ransom screamed as he came violently, his body rolling underneath you as his cum spurted all over the counter and his pretty hole fluttered around your fingers as he sobbed against the countertop.

“Oh my god!” You heard a sound of disgusted surprise from your left and turned to see Walt and Richard standing there with shock written all over their faces.

You stood up and grinned at the two of them as you pulled your fingers out of Ransom and unwrapped your other hand from his cock, smacking his ass hard and making him yelp as he panted against the counter.

“Hey there boys!” You beamed at them, Ransom finally coming back to himself and straightening up, avoiding making eye contact with his father and uncle as he pulled his slacks back up and tucked himself in. “Richard, please tell your wife to stop shoving WASP bitches at my boyfriend.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: This ended up being super long, whoops! But hey, sub!Ransom guys!

[alexthefly]

So, I finally watched the 2004 Thunderbirds movie, and I have some thoughts...

First of all, this is completely, entirely, 100% @uniwolfcorn's fault.

Secondly, yes it's true. Never watched it. Not even accidentally.

Until now.

Come with me on this journey and listen to my insane ramblings...

- So this is a nice little credits sequen-

- JONATHAN FREAKIN' FRAKES?!?! You're telling me this movie was directed by Commander William Riker?!

- This teacher is giving me Colonel Casey vibes...

- How did this reporter lady get to the oil rig before the boys did?

- Okay, Fermat is adorable and I would die for him. ❤️

- So, our first look at the Thunderbirds in action...

... ::adjusts brightness settings:: ...Nope, still nothing...

- What did they do to FAB1? It's gone from classy machine with classic lines to a goddamn bubble car!

- "Try not to run over any children, Parker." Gee, thanks for that M'lady, I was just h'about to plow h'into them like they was bowling pins(!)

:SNORT:

- Wait, that's not...Fuse, is it?

- Ah, finally a decent look at the 'birds: hmmm, One looks pretty good, but Two seems a bit...Flight of the Navigator?

- Hmmm, perhaps TAG has spoiled me with all the lovely brotherly cuteness, 'cos this dinner scene is not it. Movie Jeff is a big improvement on TOS though.

- Alan, I know you're upset, but you let Fermat finish his dinner goddammit!

- Yay John! Oh, this scene is just gorgeous! John the agony aunt and voice of reason, Jeff worrying about his sons and talking to them like a dad instead of just a commander... It's just so damn wholesome. ::chef kiss::

- Thunderbird Five actually looks pretty goo- ...Aaand they blew it up. 😱 John!!!

- Five: ::floating around in bits::

- "So this is Mount Olympus, and these are the Thunderbirds..." Oof. Mixing your mythologies there, Hood.

- "Like a puppet on a string." ::Sobs in meta::

- Hood: [resumes monologuing]

- Wait, that reporter got to the scene again? In Singapore? *Checks notes* Wasn't she in Russia?

- "Don't you think Tintin is blossoming?" 😳 #cringe

- First question from Jeff is whether the kids are safe, and be still my heart!

- Hoverbikes!!!

- Alan's being a reckless idiot and OH NO YOU DID NOT JUST MOCK MY ANGEL'S STUTTER!!!

- This chase sequence is...oof. Was it always bad, or is it just the naughties CGI shining through?

- UnFuse coming in strong with the evil laugh there...

- Again, brotherly dynamics here is...off: Scott losing hope, Gordon being a condescending knob? Uh-uh. Nope.

- Jeff: "He's a Tracy." 🤍🤍🤍

- Parker is an absolute treasure and I love him.

- Penny, stop quipping and spinning like a top; just kick her in the face!

- "Don't go to sleep." 😭😭😭😭😭

- "We've got to be quick; the Hood is getting away." ...Aaaand your father and brothers? Remember them? Suffocating in space?

- ::gasp:: Two is launching! Cannot wait for this!!

- Bra jokes. 🙄😩 This whole last ten minutes has been a hard steer off the edge of a cliff, quality-wise. Not happy...

- WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND PURE HAVE THEY DONE TO HER UNDERCARRIAGE?!?!?! HOW DARE?!?!?!

- OK, Brains yelling Jeff awake makes everything better! 👓😁 Very very silly but I am here for it.

- That little nod between John and Jeff is everything. 🥰

- ...I see Lady P found time to change outfits during this very urgent and time-sensitive crisis.

- Ah, the obligatory product placement for... Wall's Ice Cream? 😶 Huh.

- The same bloody reporter's in London now!! Seriously, it's been what, a couple of hours tops! Did the studio spring for a bloody TARDIS?

- Accident Zone? Accident Zone?! Firstly, it's clearly not an accident, and secondly, 🔥😡🤬🔥

- Thunderbird Four! ... ::resumes squinting::

- That steering mechanism is going to play murder on their elbows... That said, this rescue sequence is kinda fun.

- The boys cheering and whooping for Alan and Tintin made my heart sing! Why wasn't there more of this earlier?

- Did Lady P get changed AGAIN?!

- And apparently she also forgot all the cool martial arts she knew half an hour ago...

- Aww, Jeff and Alan having a moment. ❤️🤍

- Mr Scriptwriter, if you need a character to be kept alive when by all logic the bad guys should kill her, don't bring that fact up and then leave it totally unresolved! You don't need to start pointing the movie's flaws out to us - we can see them.

- Parker and Fermat my beloveds!

- Veering between awful bits and lovely bits is starting to give me whiplash...

- 🤣😂🤣 The Hood's gone full M Bison! 🤣

- Jeff displaying genuine fear for Alan's safety is giving me life right now.

- "I don't want to save your life, but it's what we do." ::bounces excitedly:: Grandma and Scott said it better in TAG, but the sentiment is the same and I'm thrilled!

- "See you soon, Jeff." Did they...did they think there was going to be a sequel?! Bless their hearts.

- The boys are all dicking about in the pool together and everything is right with the world. ☺️🥰

- See? I knew that "blossoming" thing was creepy!!

- I'm not going to mention John's mutant healing abilities. Not at all. Nope.

- They ALL get to be Thunderbirds? Fermat my baby!!

...You and me both, Parker. 🥲

- Pink pedalo. Because reasons. Apparently.

- 🎶YOU KNOW THE LID'S ABOUT TO BLOW, WHEN THE THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO! 🎵

FINAL THOUGHTS

It absolutely had its flaws but honestly? Not even close to as bad as I thought it would be. Perhaps in 2004 I would have been mad, but today, knowing that TAG exists and fixed so much of what went wrong here, I can dig it. 👍

[witching-hour]

Visitation [Jax Teller x Reader]

(A/N): this was literally the only gif i could find of jax in between seasons 3 and 4 while he was in stockton. i completely forgot gemma had the ankle bracelet during that time, but i don’t remember for how long. i already wrote more than half of this when i realized, so for the sake of this, gemma only had it for a smaller amount of time

SUMMARY: reader visits jax while he does his stint in stockton with half of samcro

TW: none

“TELLER!”

Hearing his name being called from across the courtyard made him look up from his position on the bench with the others. He saw a guard heading his way, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Boss?” He mocked as the guard got closer, a cool and cocky smirk spreading across his face.

“Visitor. C’mon.” The guard cocked his head to the side, indicting for the inmate to follow him.

(Y/N).

Jax let a small smile replace the smirk as his thoughts landed on you. He’d been counting the days for your next visit. He saw Gemma last week, hoping you would come with her, but was disappointed when he didn’t see you sitting at the table with her. His mother informed him about some complications with sheduling at work, and you not having anyone to cover your shift. He understood and didn’t blame you for not seeing him that week, but it didn’t stop him from being a grumpy little shit, and it sure as hell didn’t stop the guys from giving him shit about it and teasing him.

Fulfilled with a new sense of excitement, he let his feet fall to the floor and hopped up off the metal table.

“Too bad it’s not a conjugal,” Tig teased the newly shaved blonde, making the other guys fall into a fit of laughter.

Jax only flipped him off, keeping the shit-eating grin on his face. Nothing could ruin his mood now.

“Hey, leave a poor brother alone.” Bobby hushed the others, before he couldn’t help himself any longer, and jabbed at his brother, “He can only blame himself for not marrying her sooner.”

“And when she shows up in that one pair of skinny jeans that hug her ass just right, with a low-cut shirt from Gemma—” Juice didn’t feel the need to continue as the guys whooped and hollered, as Jax only sent him a vibrant death glare that spoke louder than any of the hollers from their brothers.

“Talk like that about my Old Lady again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Today Teller!” The guard’s voice boomed from the gate in warning.

Clay patted Juice’s shoulder as the latter threw his hands up in surrender. Jax sent him one last dark look before strutting away with his signature swagger in toe.

Happy leaned up on his elbows, “If he doesn’t cut out your tongue, I will.”

You sat at the metal table in the visitation room, playing with the sticker on your chest. Peeling at the corner that is no longer sticking to the low-cut shirt you borrowed from Gemma, you waited for the man who was supposed to be escorted in by now. You tried not to be impatient, but when it’s been almost two weeks since you last saw or heard from your boyfriend, you were gonna be fidgety.

You heard the screech-like beep alerting those around that the gate for prisoners was opening. Your head shot up, eyes moving to the metal door as the man of the hour walked through. His eyes found yours as soon as the door opened. He was slipping back into his good mood at the sight of you. His award-winning smile made you wanna cry.

He was decked out in his usual white t-shirt, (this time without the prisoner blue scrubs top), the dark pants inmates were provided, and a matching beanie on the top of his head. You took in his appearance, as you did every time you saw him, and despite the circumstances and the scare you had with a shanking a few months back, prison was a good look on him.

Jax had always been a well-built guy, but during his time in Stockton his more lanky build had been replaced with pounds of pure muscle. As much as you missed him, you missed other parts of him as well. And the fact you couldn’t have much physical contact, except for a short hug before a guard would yell for separation, his new appearance was only making your craving for him harder.

He made his way to you with his usual swagger, and you stood in anticipation. He brought you into his arms immediatly, enveloping you in his embrace, and sharing a short kiss that was permitted. Oh, how you missed this. The hug only lasted for a few moments before you both pulled away and took your seats at the metal table, your hands resting on top of it as instructed.

“Hey, baby.” You greeted him, the smiles never leaving either of your faces. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, darlin’.” He smirked as you looked down bashful at the little pet name. “Where you been?”

You looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by with Gemma.”

“It’s okay. She told me that work had you held up.” He brushed it off. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too.” You let your chin rest in the palm of your hand, “So what’s been going on here? Still on your best behavior?” You narrowed your eyes playfully.

He gave you an innocent look. “Me? Always, babe.”

“Mmm,” you nodded your head slowly, not believing the man in front of you for a second. “Of course.”

“How ‘bout you? How’s everythin’ goin’ on at home? How’s Abel — still upset?”

With Abel’s birthday coming up so soon, you had tried to explain to the little boy that his daddy couldn’t make it to his party this year with Grandpa Clay or half of his uncles. Abel had been asking, as he counted down the days of his birthday, and you had pushed off answering as much as you could before you eventually tried to help him wrap his mind around the fact that he would not see Jax on his birthday. Visiting had not been an option because of setting up for his party and then the party and after party with the adults. You convinced Abel that you would see Jax the day before or day after his party, but he still wasn’t having it.

“He’s...still trying to digest that you can’t see him on his actual birthday, but I think he‘ll come around when he sees the birthday cake I picked out with Gemma.” With Abel’s latest phase of being like his daddy, which you knew was to bound to happen to make up for Jax not being there, Abel had been obsessed with motorcycles, leather, sunglasses, white t-shirts, and flattering the ladies with little cute compliments Gemma and you taught him after hearing him say something he obviously learned from the guys. He was so young, yet he was already trying to become a member of SAMCRO. He even begged you at the store to buy a little chain to hang on his pants.

“That’s good,” he nodded.

“Home?” You repeated, trying to rack your brain for anything worth telling him. “Ah, I’ve been renovating Abel’s room ever so slowly. His new bed should be arriving a day or two before his birthday. You know what he wanted to put in his room?”

“What?”

“Your son wanted to put up a harley poster with the ‘pretty girl on it, just like daddy!’”

Jax through his head back in laughter. That’s most certainly his boy. He missed him so much. “That’s my boy.”

You filled him in about Gemma’s latest argument with customer that almost caused attorneys to be brought in, but Opie and you stepped in before it got too far. You also commented on Opie’s skills as acting president on the other side of the fence, and how’s he’s really stepped up in the club and around TM (and helping you and Gemma out, especially when you two didn’t ask). Opie was someone the club envisioned as the next VP to his future President Jax. It was no surprise that Opie was capable, or that he’d do such a good job. The blonde was filled with pride and admiration of his best friend.

He informed you of a rumor going around of one of the guards banging an inmate in his cellblock, and that SAMCRO used the dirt as an advantage to get cigarettes. You had to roll your eyes at the one. Of course they did.

He also brought up that if Juice ever started flirting with you when you’d visit the other members locked up, to let yo know, regardless if his sentence gets pushed. Again, you rolled your eyes. The alpha male shit he loved pulling, was hot, but it was unnecessary, especially over Juice of all people. You reminded him that Juive was harmless and formed no threat. If anything he should be more about Bobby, majorly after what went down with Luanne (obviously Bobby was more of father figure than anything, but you just wanted to prove your point to your boyfriend).

Let’s just say he didn’t find your point amusing.

You both used up the visiting hours till a guard called for “time’s up.” It weighed on you everytime you had to leave. You knew you’d see him again soon, but the date felt so far away each time. He and the guys only had five more months left of there sentence, it may seem like a lot but they already completed the first nine.

You parted ways after one last short but savored hug and kiss before he was escorted out of the visitation room. He sent one last look over his shoulder which you knew translated to ‘I love you.’ You mouthed the words back before he disappeared behind the manually controlled door.

Five more months, you kept telling yourself. Five more months.

SOA TAG LIST: @cutekittylexie @talicat713 @woahitslucyylu @xx--day-dreamer--xx @sweetpeaflower01 @rebelwrites

[fancyfearful]

Terms of Service (Celia Lede x Gender Neutral! Reader)

(Happy International Women’s Day/Women’s History Month, y’all! Please enjoy some quality fun time with a true girlboss.)

---------------------

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: Mature/Explicit themes, and ‘potential simp behavior’ are in this fic. Celia is a queen, idc.

Word Count: 2,042

(Edit: I forgot to tag @gatobob​ , who owns this character, whoops!)

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            You were scared at first.

            After all, you had gone from being naked and terrified in a dimly lit showroom, to waking up several hours later in a rundown, abandoned office building located far away from your home. A pair of handcuffs kept your wrists bound behind your back, but whomever kidnapped you had been 'generous' enough to dress you in semi-casual office clothes, though they were a bit too loose on your body.

               The only thing you knew was that the person responsible for bringing you here had the voice of a matured woman. However, the sound of sharp heels clicking against the ground warned you of their arrival, seconds before she entered the small breakroom where you were being kept.

               Upon meeting the well-dressed, businesswoman for the first time, you learned a few things. Her name was Celia and she was noticeably taller than the average woman, even with her heels on. But if looks could kill, then the mocha-colored eyes that looked over your body would've ended your life in seconds. You weren't sure if she was tired, irritated or both but regardless, Celia staring at your body made you feel uncomfortable.

               During her 'introduction', Celia informed you that your new purpose in life was to be her personal stress reliever, and that resistance of any kind was unacceptable, including trying to escape. She also pointed out something you had somehow missed earlier; an ankle bracelet attached to your leg. With a knowing smirk, Celia informed you that it came with a built in GPS to make sure that you wouldn't be able to leave without her knowledge. The brunette before you also mentioned something about several other 'secrets' that you'd find out about later, which did nothing to calm your nerves as she casually reached into the hidden pocket on her overshirt.

            Celia pulled out a thin, bright red dog collar, dangling it between her fingers before making her way over to fasten it around your neck. She had made it a little too tight on purpose, and when she stepped back to see how it looked, the brunette couldn’t help but scoff.

             “There, now you look like the dog you are. I hope for your sake you’ll be easier to train than the last one. It’d be a shame if I had to put down another pet…” Celia warned, dropping her voice to emphasize her point.

                 “Now, how about we teach you some new tricks?”

*****  

               The next few days had gone by faster than you expected, thanks to Celia’s rigorous training.

            Most of your time was spent acting as living footrest or chair, while she took her sweet time reading through and answering important, work-related emails. If Celia had a good workday, you’d play games like fetch, where she’d reward you with cookies shaped like dog biscuits if you did well. But if you didn’t retrieve an item fast enough, your cruel captor would deliver punishment by whipping your back and torso with her chain flogger. And on bad workdays, you’d be subjected to a game of ‘cat and mouse’, where Celia gave you a few seconds to hide before hunting you down; if you were found in six minutes or less, she would beat you to the point of bruising with the nearest blunt object in the room. The stapler was quickly becoming one of her favourites items to carry around, and even a good workday couldn’t save you from whenever Celia felt the urge to watch you squirm. Her eyes practically lit up whenever she subjected you to several new piercings on your arms or legs, a high only the most forbidden of drugs could provide.

            But today—or night, you couldn’t exactly tell what time of day it was down here—was different.

           The familiar, yet haunting, sound of heels clacking along the ground was replaced by something that sounded firmer, and heavier in comparison. And for the first time since your arrival, you were worried that someone or something even worse than Celia would find you here.

             However, seeing the familiar face of Celia suddenly appear in the doorway of the shabby office that had become your bedroom was bittersweet. But instead of her usual business attire, she donned a skin-tight, black body suit with thigh-high stockings, and her trademark red heels were replaced with thick, black wedges. Sure, you had noticed her figure from time to time, but the sudden style change made it even harder to look away. Instead, you tried to focus on the medium sized bag she was holding in her left hand.

                 “Ah, there’s my favourite dog. You look surprised to see me.” Celia says, making her way into the room before plopping herself down onto the desk nearby.

            Her tone sounded lower than usual, and the end of her words were a bit slurred. If you had to guess, she had probably had a few drinks before coming here, something that wasn’t uncommon. Whenever it happened, Celia was a bit of a wildcard. She motioned for you to come closer, making you gulp nervously as she reached into her bag to retrieve a long chain with a clasp at the end. Sheepishly, you avoid eye contact while Celia attaches it to the collar around your neck, grinning proudly before she roughly tugs on your new leash.

            “Now you’re really starting to look like a proper pet!” she comments, only to pat your head in a condescending manner. “And so well behaved too, isn’t that right?”

            You nod slowly, feeling your cheeks burn in shame. This wasn’t right. Her backhanded compliments shouldn’t have affected you like this, but these moments with Celia were the only times you could interact with another living being. It was better than trying to keep a stray pill bug for company again, only for it to end up escaping.

               “You should be grateful, you know. I turned you into something useful, something with value…” Celia adds, keeping one hand on your chain while the other tightly cupped your chin. “I saved you from being someone’s pathetic plaything. And yet I still have to tell you when to say ‘thank you’. How is that fair to me? Shouldn’t you know better by now?”

          You nodded again, only to be struck across the face with a harsh slap.           “Answer me!” Celia snarled, her face scrunched up in annoyance. She was losing her patience, and that was the last thing you wanted her to do.

                “Y-Yes, miss Celia. I’m sorry for not knowing better.” You replied. “Thank you for giving me value.”

       “Good! See, that’s what I like about you. You’re a quick learner, but there’s still something I’ve got to put to the test.” The brunette murmured, letting go of your chin before she pointed to the floor. “On your knees, pet. Let’s see if that face is as comfortable as it looks.”

               You were visibly confused as you tried to process her request. Did she mean what you thought she meant, or--?

“Are you deaf? Because I’m pretty sure I just gave you a task to complete. And if you can’t do it, then I’ll replace you with someone who can...” Celia commanded, her voice booming and steady. It was the kind of tone that could melt you within seconds or break you without warning.

               As quickly as you could, you dropped to your knees, trying to the ignore the dull ache that came with having them hit the floor too hard. Celia wound the excess length of your chain around her hand a few times, before yanking you towards the space between her parted legs. A muffled grunt escaped you as Celia’s legs wrapped around your neck and shoulders, keeping your face pinned against the smooth leather of her body suit while she kept an iron grip around your chain. The sweet scent of a strong smelling body spray invaded your nose, and although you wouldn’t admit it out loud, the fragrance was alluring.

“Well, pet? I’m waiting. Show me how grateful you are to be here.”

 It was at that moment that you started to think she was right. Not because you didn’t miss your old life, or your freedom but because in a weird, twisted way, serving Celia gave you a purpose. And all things considered, your kidnapper could’ve been much worse; she kept you fed, clothed, and even though the building was falling apart, it still provided shelter from the elements.

               And with this in mind, you started to kiss along her inner thighs, turning your face and neck as much as Celia’s grip would allow. She wiggled a little, smirking as she watched her current pet creep closer and closer towards one of her most sensitive areas, making the brunette smirk deviously.

With a shaky sigh, Celia pressed her hips forward, testing the waters of her new toy by lightly grinding her crotch against your face. The combination of your tightened collar, Celia’s thighs, and the added pressure of that damned leash was making it difficult to breathe, but Celia didn’t care about your declining oxygen supply. If anything, your struggling only made her legs clench even tighter, and you could barely make out the twisted pleasure on her face as she slowly tried to suffocate you, her eyes twinkling in delight while she leaned back a little.

          Your tongue pressed itself up against the thin fabric covering over her body suit, earning an unexpected moan from your mistress before you closing any distance that remained between you two. Any other time, Celia would have punished you for touching her without permission, but in the heat of the moment, your hands wrapped themselves around her thighs, digging your nails into her stocking as your mouth worked to pleasure her as best as you could. 

         Paying attention to the sounds she made was paying off, making it a little easier to find her sweet spots, but you didn’t dare to move the dampened leather covering over her opening. Not without her say, at least.

         But the loud moans and high pitched whines coming from your captor were enough to awaken something in you as well; a small part of Celia was at your mercy, and this was a chance you couldn’t pass up. And so, you doubled down on your efforts, licking, kissing, suckling, and nibbling on every ounce of flesh and fabric between Celia’s warm, plush thighs, using your tongue to express the gratitude that she craved.

           Eventually, your efforts paid off in the form of a loud, breathy moan from Celia as she shuddered, clenching her legs around you so tight that your vision went black for a second or two. The bottom of her body suit was absolutely soaked with a mixture of her own juices, your saliva, and a bit of sweat between you both, yet the pleased chuckle Celia let out calmed your nerves. She only made that sound when something good happened.

            “…Ooh…Haven’t done something like in ages…” she sighed as she relaxed her grip.

            You were able to catch a glimpse of her face, her cheeks tinted bright red as she moved lose strands of hair away from her eyes. The firm, hardened expression typically worn by Celia had been temporarily replaced with a softer, more inviting expression. If it didn’t put you at risk to get kicked, you might even have kissed her. Nothing serious, as it just would have a quick peck on those plump, dark colored lips.

               “Don’t look so lovestruck, dog. Just because I had a few drinks before showing up and felt like trying something new doesn’t mean that you’re walking out of here anytime soon. You’re mine for as long as I want you to be.” Celia huffed, yanking on the chain to remind you of your place. And with a sheepish smile, you nodded.

            “Yes, miss Celia. Of course. Thank you.”

                        How you ended up in her possession was irrelevant. It didn't matter.

           What did matter, was your value. Your worth. It was about what you could do for Celia, not the other way around. It was about acknowledging your rightful place under the command of a superior entity, and that entity was her.

[anxietysroomsupport]

Hypermobile anon here. First, thank you so much. It's just nice to know there's someone here for me. And to give a little more info, I have a serious problem where if I'm not currently in pain. I don't remember how bad it was. I know everybody does this, but my brain literally checked out as I was going to bed recently and I fell on the floor. I nearly forgot to tell my physical therapist.about it because it didn't really hurt. So, I can't do the pain scale very well, and I never remember (1/2)

(2/2) It just makes it sort of hard for pain relief when I don't know I'm going to need it and don't have the energy when I do. Also, on the vitamin subject, I know that I've had vitamin d issues before (bad heat exhaustion and allergy scares = going outside less), bad enough that I was close to being diagnosed with hypothyroidism. I'm not sure about the others, but I do know I'm not amazing healthy, so? I take calcium pills for the vitamin d, though. Again, thank you guys for all your help.

.

We just got a bill from my PT place that says we owe money that we can't pay. They told us up front how much it would be with our insurance, and my mom's been paying each time, but it says we owe 177 dollars. Sure, it's not a lot, but we're not rich and trying to send a sibling to college. If we can't get this sorted out. I can't just not go. 10 exercises I can do at home and 5 appointments is not enough to help a chronic disorder. I cant focus and I have practice in 30 mins. -Hypermobility anon

Same day but later when I'm feeling a little better (my director was very supportive though so that's nice), I'd seen the letter and heard my parents talking a bit, but my mom told be as we got to school for rehearsal about PT. I got upset, and I felt bad because I could tell she felt bad because she didn't expect me to be upset, and in the heat of the moment I said "chronic illness" in front of my mom for the first time. She loudly (not quite yelling) (1/?) - Hypermobility anon

said to me "That is the most self-pitying thing I've ever heard. Chronic illnesses are like cancer". Sure, I probably should've said disorder and not illness, but I'm scientifically right. Then I said "It is, it's chronic pain, I am always in pain" and she said "Well then clearly PT isn't helping anyway" - I??? When I went in after 15 minutes after another girl, since we were both there for an hour and a half, I decided to stop trying too much to hide my crying (useful masks) (2/?) -HSD anon

since the other girl was in the hall to eat, and when I managed to explain to the director, she was understanding and nice, and when I said chronic, she said that I should never have to live with that, especially at my age. And when I mentioned not being able to sing at that moment from my crying, she pointed out how I was singing an empowering song that was about standing against the bad stuff in life, and I was perfect for it. I know my mom was just mad, but it just drained me.

Sorry I keep sending asks so often, I just feel like telling someone this. I decided to put 'zebra' in my bio. It's a thing that people with EDS and HSD sometimes like to call themselves. I like it, so even though I just have my name and pronouns, plus a random joke, in my bio, I added it. It just feels like a step in the right direction to remembering that I don't need google to tell me I'm dealing with this every 5 minutes. Accepting it, I guess. :) -HSD anon

.

My sleep schedule just keeps getting worse and I think it's my ADHD combined busy days and pain but I just never want to sleep anymore. I can't, I don't want to, and it hurts physically and mentally to just lie there and see if I can fall asleep. 80% sure my circadian rhythm changed to sleep at about 2 am but I get up at 7 and have a chronic disorder that's getting worse because of this I *need sleep*. And I'm so scared I'll mess up, want to make a side blog for it but want to make one (1/2)

for something happy first because I always figured that if I had side blogs they would be ask blogs or for fandoms or whatever. But I got a little better at not caring what other people think, so I haven't really needed one for fandom. But I looked through the tag and felt so comforted by some of the stuff that I just think it would help me. Maybe I'm just extra bad tonight because I went outside but also talked about it a fair amount with a friend I hadn't seen recently who didn't know. -HSD

.

I wanna talk to my physical therapist about hip braces because I tried a knee one we have and it honestly helps, but my hips are worst so I wanna see if it would help, but they're pretty expensive. It's hard to find dual hip braces, from what I've seen in my research, and even though one more than the other, both cause me issues. Idk, I'm conflicted, because it could help but is it worth all the effort? Also, even if it's under clothing it's still physical evidence (1/2) -HSD anon

(2/2) of my "invisible" disorder. Also, stopping exercises for a few days because of not feeling well from my covid shot reminded me of just how much time I spend on them, so it's another thing to deal with this. . . Idk, sometimes I just wonder if it would be better to just deal with it. I still have pain anyway, though it might be a little better. Less often, maybe? I don't really remember. It's not stressing at the front of my mind all the time, but the back of it. I'm just conflicted. -HSD

.

HSD anon here, idk if I mentioned it in an ask already, but recently I had a small breakdown because I was watching something where a character was in a car accident, as was trying to push through having trouble walking even with a hip brace. After a minute, I registered it and just thought "That could be my future". My joints had already been acting up and then they got worse, so I don't know if it was cause and effect? But I don't exactly know what to call it other than a trigger. (1/2)

Physical and emotional effect, at least I'm assuming on physical because I've had a bad reaction to something similar before, but like, I don't have trauma, I think it's more fear of the future. And I don't want to use trigger incorrectly, it's insensitive to those who actually have triggers. I'm just so confused.

Forgot to sign the last ask with 2/2 and HSD, whoops.

.

Hfnsiwk I'm not ready to walk into PT tomorrow and say that I don't think months of PT have been helping but I have no way to be completely sure because for all I know it's the weather since this is the first year I've known/it's been noticeable. Maybe it's just change, I don't know, but it just feels like such a waste of time if it really didn't help. Plus, I'd stop, and while that'd be great, I do enjoy being stronger, even if it didn't help pain. I have 12 hours and a bad pain day idek. -HSD

.

Hi Hypermobility Anon,

I think I found all your asks and got them in the correct order.  And found your last ask!

I’m so glad you kept writing in.  I think you should go ahead and make your side blog - you definitely have enough material for it.  Wanting to make a happy side blog also is a great goal to have, but if you don’t know what it will be yet, don’t let that prevent you from doing something you know you want to do and that will probably help you.  

You are dealing with So. Much.  Your mom especially sounds like she just is not ready to accept the situation.  It’s not self-pity to state your actual conditions.  It’s just reality.  

Forgetting about pain is normal, and really all you can do is try to write it down or make some kind of note about it in the moment or immediately after, so you can refer to it later.  Maybe you can track your pain events in your phone notes.

I think your idea to add “zebra” to your bio is a good one, this is part of your life and just something you have to deal with.  It sounds like you’re finding a community for this.  

Sleep schedules are tricky, and feeling like you desperately need to sleep can make it so stressful that it starts a vicious little cycle.  Some strategies to get around this are First, remember that just resting is okay and helpful too, even if you don’t fall asleep.  Letting your body lay there to rest is good for you.  

Second, if you’ve spent several minutes laying down without falling asleep, its okay to get up and walk around, or any small light exercise that’s comfortable for you.  The goal with this one is to get out of the bed for a bit.  It will help your brain to re-learn that the bed is for sleeping only, not for laying awake.  That association can help signal to your brain to start its sleep-process when you get into bed at night.

Third, it’s really common to have a changing circadian rhythm during your teens and twenties.  That’s just a thing that happens and you can’t do much about it, so just try not to worry too much.  Sleep when it feels right and when you can, instead of trying to force yourself to sleep when you’re “supposed” to.  

If hip braces would help you, you should definitely at least mention it to your physical therapist.  You might research online for any used ones as well.  A physical sign that you have pain can have good and bad consequences, but I think the good consequence of being in less pain far outweighs any others.

The triggering event you described is not so much a trigger as it is just a genuinely really upsetting situation.  You related really strongly to the character you were watching, because they’re dealing with similar problems to you, and to problems you could have in the future.  It’s a lot to process.  But while you could potentially be in a car accident, remember that television is made to dramatize events and probably made it seem a lot more difficult and scary than it really would be.   

Since we know you sometimes forget your pain, it’s safe to say that the exercises are helping you manage it, and you say that they’ve made you stronger in general.  Those are good things, and I would recommend you continue the exercises you can do on your own even if you end of ending  your physical therapy sessions.  We don’t know yet if your pain might have gotten even worse without therapy.  You’ll have to find that out on your own if you stop exercising, and then decide whether it’s more worth it to you to continue exercising or to live with the pain.  Whichever you choose, it’s Your choice, Your body.  Take care of yourself. <3

-bun

[rosesgonerogue]

How to be a Dad 101

Chapter Five - Shooting Range

Jasonette July Day Six

Masterlist

This patrol route was one that was new to Jason – Bruce had decided to change some things up after some spikes in crime in places that shouldn’t have had an issue. It made sense, but it irked Jason that it was his patrol route that was changed. Not only did he have to listen to Dick and Babs whisper sweet nothings over the earpieces, but his body couldn’t move on autopilot like it did with his old route.

Jason was in the middle of leaping from one building to the next when Babs surprised him by murmuring something particularly dirty. Caught off guard, Jason almost didn’t make the next jump, barely grasping the ledge of the roof before he could plummet to his death. Scrambling onto the building, Jason hissed, “There are other people on this channel, save it for the bedroom you perverts.”

“Sorry Hood,” Dick said, miraculously possessing enough shame to sound embarrassed.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a prude, Hood,” Oracle said. “Or are you just jealous? There hasn’t really been anyone for you since that little French girl, which is just sad. What you need is a good—”

“I don’t need anything except for you idiots to focus,” Jason interrupted.

“As much as I hate to say it, Red Hood is correct,” Robin’s smug voice said over the earpiece. “Your frivolous comments are both unwelcome and completely inappropriate.”

“I will make you two a private channel as long as I never have to hear about your sex lives ever again,” Red Robin promised.

“Is Nightwing the only person in this family who knows how to have a good time?” she complained.

“Oracle, Nightwing, focus,” Batman growled.

The lovers were mercifully silent for at least a while. After the near-death experience, Jason decided that this building was as good of a surveillance point as any. As he stationed himself at the ledge to look out over the city, Jason’s stomach lurched when he realized that he was standing on the same hotel she had stayed at.

Marinette. He’d barely even allowed himself to think her name for the past three years, but here he couldn’t escape the thought of her. He could see the bakery where Killer Croc had nearly murdered her – he’d been so disgusted by Dick and Babs that he hadn’t even noticed that he’d ended up on the very street he avoided at all costs.

He couldn’t understand why she haunted his life even now, not that he would have it any other way. Over the years he’d tried just hooking up with someone or something similar, but he could never go through with it. Something tied him to Marinette, at least in his mind. It was laughable, in all reality she was probably already married with kids.

The very idea was painful to Jason. He found himself flying from rooftop to rooftop, flinging himself across the city with reckless abandon. Luckily it was a slow night, at least in his portion of the town. A part of him halfway wished there was something going on so he could get a good fight in, but it was probably for the best. Jason didn’t want to break the “no-kill” rule.

At the Batcave, Dick was the only one back yet. He had that awful apologetic look that made you feel sorry for being mad in the first place, which only served to piss Jason off more.

“I just wanted to apologize, Jay-bird. I’ll talk to Babs, I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“You don’t know crap, Grayson,” Jason spat. “You and Babs just got married, good for you. Bruce and Selina are getting married. Whoop-de-frickin-doo. I’m happy for all of you, but I don’t need you to throw what I don’t have in my face.”

The look on his brother’s face probably should have inspired some sort of penitence in Jason, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything. He shoved past Dick, shedding pieces of his costume as he went.

Jason found himself stalking to the shooting range, the only place he could use real bullets anymore. It was his catharsis, feeling the explosion of gunfire beneath his hands. He shot easily, methodically, seeking only to get any and all thoughts of Marinette out of his mind.

Aim, cock, fire. Nothing existed outside of him, his gun, and the target.

“Rough night?”

Lowering his gun, Jason asked, “What, did Dick send you here because he’s afraid he hurt my feelings?”

“Oh, he’s probably worried about exactly that, but he’s so earnest that he wouldn’t feel right if he made someone else apologize for him.”

“He is disgustingly moral like that. So why are you here?”

“I’m here to tell you that plans changed,” Selina said, gracefully perching on top of the base to one of the shooting targets. “We’re never going to get a normal wedding as long as we stay in Gotham – there will always be someone or other for Bruce to fight.”

“You’re not wrong. So what? I can stay behind and be Batman for a week or two, I don’t care.”

“That’s not it – the Justice League is stepping in to help. I couldn’t get married without my monstrously large family-to-be in attendance. What I’m here to tell you is that we’re all travelling to Paris in two weeks.”

The announcement was enough to make Jason jerk in surprise, nearly shooting himself in the foot. “Paris? Why Paris?”

Selina arched an eyebrow, but dismissed his reaction otherwise. “Bruce and I have a… history in Paris. But the main motivation is that my favorite designer lives there, and she famously doesn’t leave Paris for any sort of job. They agreed to fit me in under a few conditions, but I’m willing to do just about anything to make sure my dress is perfect.”

“Okay, but are you sure it has to be in Paris?” Jason asked, the image of Marinette flashing through his mind.

Selina smiled, a sharp, deadly smile. “Listen. I knew that marrying Bruce meant all of his kids were part of the deal. I’m fine with that, I love all of you even if you’re monsters sometimes. But you will all be there, and you will all cooperate with whatever I say, because this is my wedding, and I need at least one normal memory of this family.”

“Fine, I get it. I’m going to Paris,” Jason said, holding up his hands, even as he felt sick thinking about it.

This was all just a coincidence. There was no guarantee that Marinette was even still in Paris to begin with, and even if she was, the odds of them meeting were a million to one.

Right?

Taglist: 

@jasonette-july-2k20 @ira-sairain @myazael @pawsitivelymiraculous @nik-nak-3 @dast218 @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm  @vixen-uchiha @momothefemur @toodaloo-kangaroo

Note: 

I know this story has been moving a little slow, but things will start picking up soon! Let me know what you guys think! Just comment below if you want to be tagged, or if I forgot to tag you! My life is a bit chaotic rn, so bear with me! 

[browneyedhimbo]

Second Chances

Prompts: “You should be kissed, every day, every hour, every minute.”

Summary: Second chances are hard to come by. Bucky never got to tell you how he felt before, so with a little encouragement he might be able to finally tell you.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Warnings: slight angst, fluffy ending, friends to lovers type thing

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: This is for @cosmicbucky‘s 300 writing challenge. Congratulations again hun! You serve them and so many more! ❤💕❤💕 This was written with me practically drunk off nyquil so if this doesn’t make much sense I’m sorry 😅 Hope you like it!  《Masterlist 》

It was calm, Bucky noted. There were no missions, no fighting, no yelling, and no trouble. He caught himself in a blissful serenity and he loved it. Trying to soak up every minute of it, he lay sprawled on the sofa of the common room with his nose stuck in a book. He loved these days, but it was missing something. Rather, someone. 

He shut his book and let it flop on his stomach as he reached for his phone in his pocket. He unlocked it and was greeted with the picture of his home screen that made his heartache and small smile turn to a frown. It was a silly selfie you took of the both of you, right there on that sofa. 

He sighed and screwed his eyes shut tight. He felt like such an idiot, a helpless useless dumbass. But most of all, he felt like a coward. The sound of his phone pinging made his eyes open slowly as he saw it was a message from you. 

Hey buddy! It’s nice out, try going for a walk. Who knows, you might end up meeting the girl of your dreams 🤪 Oh, and don't forget to smile!

He chuckled halfheartedly at the text. Only you would be on a lunch date with your boyfriend and send him a text telling him to smile. Whether it was telepathy or not, he found it endearing. His fingers typed as if they had a mind of his own and sent a message.

Hey! You know me, always smiling doll. I might take a rain check on that walk, workout room is calling my name

He didn’t want to take the walk, he didn’t want to meet anyone else. He already found the girl of his dreams but he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t have you.

He shook his head and sat up, swinging his legs over to stand. Hands found their way into his hair and he couldn't help but tug at it. The weight of his jealousy and the pain in his heart hurt him too much.

As hard as he tried, the tears started welling in his eyes and the lump in his throat grew. His leg started bouncing up and down as he tried to steady his breathing. His mind was swarming with thoughts, the loudest one being, “Are you really going to cry over this?” And he shook his head. Apparently he was.

+++

Wanda was tucked into a small corner of the kitchen drinking tea and scrolling through her phone when she felt this feeling of hurt wash over her, leaving goosebumps behind. Looking around she spotted Bucky on the sofa.

“Hey, um, Bucky?” She cautiously sat next to him. “Bucky what’s wrong?” He shook his head clenching his jaw, resulting in her putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m-” He inhaled a shaky breath, “I’m such an idiot.” He scoffed. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that day and now I don’t think I ever will.” The tears started rolling freely down his cheeks.

“What if I said you were wrong,” she countered gently, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He looked up to her, “She’s happy with Brad.” He spat out venomously.

“Men,” Wanda’s eyes rolled as she chuckled, “You’re all the same. All that testosterone.” She smirked, pulling out her phone from her back pocket. “IF you would actually watch her Instagram stories and pay attention to her twitter posts,” she trailed off, scrolling endlessly. Bucky would watch them, but his focus was on you. Your smile, your eyes, your hair, your-

“Earth to Bucky.” Wanda chuckled. “So you think she’s still whooped for this guy right?” He shook his head, why wouldn’t you? “Well think again.” She turned her phone to show Bucky a post of yours on Instagram. It was a picture of your boyfriend, Brad, with his back to you. The caption you put under it is what sparked anger in the bit of Bucky’s stomach.

Won’t even kiss me anymore 🙄

“He’s been getting distance with her.” Wanda smiled knowingly. “Maybe you should tell her.” She smiled, her eyebrows rising in slight amusement.

“But why would she want me?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, it just fell from his lips. 

“Aww Bucky.” She cooed, bringing him into a side hug. “You could ask her yourself, you know. She never shuts up about you. At this point your name has left her mouth more than Brad.” She chuckled. 

“Oh.” Was all he could say, but his mind was screaming why.

“Hey did I forget to mention that they broke up?” Bucky’s face shot up from where he had it tucked between his arms. His eyebrows rose in confusion as his head tilted, bottom lip jutting out.

“But the picture…” He trailed off. 

“Was from two weeks ago.” She smirked. Bucky scoffed, not knowing what the hell was happening anymore. “That’s why she’s been in her room. She might’ve told you she was on a lunch date or that she was still seeing this douche only because she knows you’ll rip his head off.” 

Now things seemed clearer. His mind reflected over the last two weeks. The bags under your eyes, how they were always puffy. When he asked you about it you said they were either allergies or you couldn’t sleep. The way you carried yourself was a little different, your shoulders were more slouched and your smile didn’t really reach your eyes. But you still seemed yourself. But now that he thinks about it, really thinks, you were flirting with him more. He only thought you were joking.

“Where is she?” He looked at Wanda, pure determination in his eyes. 

“She’s on the roof.” She smiled sadly, “Be gentle.” Bucky nodded before wiping his eyes and darting towards the elevator.

The entire ride he was trying to come up with a little speech, something to say to you so he won’t be as awkward. But his mind turned up blank. All he could think about was that he was getting a second chance. 

The elevator dinged, bringing him out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath, willing his nerves to calm down a bit before stepping out into the crisp New York air. He immediately spotted you leaning against the rail, looking into the horizon, a sad look adorning your beautiful features.

Slowly he started walking closer to you. The panic was slowly building up.  He thought about turning around and sticking himself in his room, but when does the world ever offer him a second chance?

“Hey doll.” He smiled softly while his right hand gripped the rail. He forced himself to keep looking at you. 

“Hey Buck!” You looked at him with a cheery expression. His heart melted at the sight.

“Can I uh, I want to, I-” He sighed looking at the view of the city. “Whatever happened with Brad? The uh lunch date?” Your jaw dropped and your eyes went wide. You completely forgot you told him you were on a date.

“We uh w-we cancelled last minute,” you lied. You hated lying to Bucky. He scratched the back of his neck, his chest heaving slightly faster.

“Wanda told me Y/N/N.” His soft steel blue grey eyes bore into yours. “Why didn’t you say something?” He asked so softly if you weren’t paying attention you might’ve missed it.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you sighed. “Plus he wasn’t even interesting anymore.” You chuckled, trying to lighten things up.

“Yeah? How so?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Well for one he wouldn’t want to kiss me anymore,” you laughed.

“You should be kissed, every day, every hour, every minute.” Bucky stated as if it were a fact. His words melted your heart and made puddy in his hands. It was the sweetest thing you ever heard and it brought the biggest goofiest smile onto your face.

“What?” His head tilted in confusion. “Wait did I just-” His eyes went wide as he paled. “Oh my g-I just. Fuck I didn’t-” He racked his fingers through his hair. “I-I mean it’s true but - oh god just shoot me now.” He mumbled, his head hitting the railing. Well so much for second chances. 

“What do you mean second chances Buck?” Shit, did he say that out loud?

“Well,” he started, “remember that party Stark threw last year for the children’s fundraiser? I was planning on telling you how I felt.” A blush creeped its way up his neck to his cheeks. “I was going to bring you up here actually and tell you. But before I could even get you alone I chickened out.” He looked to the floor dejectedly.

“Tell me.” You said, your finger lifting his chin so his eyes met yours.

“What?”

“Tell me how you feel.” You don’t know where this boost of confidence came from but there was no taking this back now. Bucky gulped. It was now or never.

“I love you. I know it might seem like a strong word but you’re my best friend. Ever since I met you I knew but the feelings just got stronger everyday and then seeing you with fucking Brad just hurt so much. But I never stopped loving you and since he made you happy-” Tears blurred your vision as you cut him off with a kiss. 

“You really should’ve said something at that party,” you chuckled softly, “I love you too Bucky boo.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips which you gladly returned. His hands snaked around your waist as your hands found a way to his neck, bringing him closer. 

“I’m gonna show how much I love and kiss you like you should,” he promised.

“I'll hold you to it Sarge.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Permanent tags: @becausewhyknotme @katbtracy @imma-new-soul​ @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @theladyoffangorn @itsunclebucky @mushyjellybeans @writing-for-hours-on-end  @this-kitten-is-smitten @agentpeggybarnes @fangirl-introvert @ninjabucky @cosmicbucky

Bucky Barnes tags: @sebbbystaaan @wemisshim3000 @dianadov @nerdy-bookworm-1998

[sheerfreesia007]

Swallow Your Tongue

Title: Swallow Your Tongue

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 1,678

Warnings: Suggestive Flirting

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711​, @fioccodineveautunnale​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​

Author Notes: This was my second idea for the water Whiskey request. I love Whiskey when he’s being a little shit. And Moonshine is my ultimate favorite code name for a Statesman agent! Even though I love Curacao with my whole heart. Moonshine is my favorite. Feedback is always appreciated! Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Gif Credit: Google

The sun was just creeping up into the afternoon sky as you parked your jeep in the little clearing that led to a large lake. You watched as Tequila jumped out of Whiskey’s Bronco that was parked not far from your Jeep and laughed as he nearly toppled when his foot got caught in the door.

         “He’s such an idiot.” Vodka said from right and you burst out in happy laughter.

         “Yeah but he’s your idiot.” came Ginger’s response from the back of the Jeep.

         “She ain’t wrong.” you agreed with Ginger as you opened your door and stepped out.

         “Shut up.” Vodka griped at both you and Ginger making the two of you laugh. Just then Tequila whooped loudly as he set a large old boom box on the ground and turned on a local radio station that was playing country songs. Vodka and Ginger began pulling out their travel totes as you walked around the Jeep to the back. Opening the back door you pulled out your own tote and then began pulling out the various beach chairs you had stowed back there.

         “Here let me help Moonshine.” came a deep voice from behind you and you felt your body begin to tense slightly.

         “It’s alright Whiskey I’ve got it.” you explained but then felt his presence behind you and you forgot what else you were supposed to be talking about. You watched as his tan right arm reached around you and it brought his body close to your back. Sucking in a harsh breath you halted and waited as he grabbed one of the chairs.

         “You alright ‘shine?” he asked lowly and you nodded your head quickly. When he stepped away you felt the air rush out of your lungs in a long slow breath. You watched him through the Jeep’s windows as he began to set up the chairs around a fire pit that was in the clearing. Sighing softly you silently scolded yourself. Why couldn’t you be normal around the handsome charming man?

         It had been like this since you had met the agent, he had turned up the charm real easy on you when you were introduced to each other and having that suggestive smirk turned on you made you feel like a melted butter on a hot day. You had tried to hide your smitten feelings for him but there were times when he flirts outrageously that you felt he had to have known how much he flustered you. He made you dumb struck quite often and you were always scrambling to get your footing within your relationship with him. The man gave you whiplash.

         “Moonshine you alright back there?” called Ginger as she rounded the Jeep and your head snapped to your left where she stood smirking knowingly at you.

         “Shut up I’m fine.” you snapped out already trying to head off her words.

         “Oh yeah I bet you’re real fine.” she said suggestively and you huffed at her before you shoved a chair into her chest so that you could pull the blue and white cooler from the car. Just then there was a wild whoop from over by the fire pit making you and Ginger look up after you shut the back door.

         “Oh fuck me.” you gasp out as Ginger burst out in bright laughter. You stood stock still with the cooler resting against your thighs as you watched Tequila and Whiskey tug their shirts off over their head. Both were already wearing swimming trunks and as your eyes raced up and down Whiskey’s naked chest you felt a hot flush race up from the back of your neck.

         “Mmhmm.” Ginger teased softly from next to you before she lazily walked over to Vodka and the guys to set up the last chair. You gritted your teeth and shuffled over to the chairs and plopped the cooler down in between two chairs.

         “Thanks ‘shine.” Whiskey said warmly and your head snapped up to see him leaning in close to you as he bent forward. Your eyes widened slightly at his close proximity to you and then jolted as you heard him open the cooler and pull out a beer. He winked at you with a grin as he stood tall and pulled the tab on the beer before taking a long swig on it while throwing his head back. You gulped silently as you watched his adam’s apple bob with each swallow of alcohol he took.

         “Get it Whiskey!” cheered Tequila from behind him and you shook your head with a grin and walked away from Whiskey over to Vodka where it was safer and you wouldn’t constantly be flustered by the man’s presence. “C’mon who’s gettin’ in the water first?” called Tequila. You smiled as you watched Ginger quickly sit in one of the chairs near you and Vodka. Your eyes leered at Vodka and she shook her head before cutting her eyes over to Tequila and Whiskey.

         “Sorry boys we’ll get in later.” you called out over your shoulder to them as you moved to take a seat next to Ginger.

         “Yeah we’ll get in later.” Vodka agreed as she pulled out three beers from the cooler for the three of you. Tequila shrugged his shoulders at you guys before he took off a sprint for the water. You watched amused as he almost face planted into the water once it hit it before he dove in. You refused to look over at Whiskey but out of your peripheral you could see that he was looking over at you before he walked down to the water and dove in. “He pretty much undressed you with his eyes just now. Are you really gonna tell me that he’s not into you?” Vodka asked as she took a seat on Ginger’s other side.

         “Yeah c’mon Moonshine. He’s completely smitten by you and you’re the same way.” Ginger said knowingly as she nodded her head and took a small sip of beer.

         “She’s worse. Much worse.” Vodka said out of the side of her mouth before sipping her beer. You scowled over to your friends and huffed out a breath.

         “Shut yer mouths. And he’s not into me that way. That’s just the way he is with everyone.” you dismissed easily with a wave of your hand as you sat back into the chair.

         “You are blinder than a bat.” Vodka quipped and you flipped her the middle finger so easily that Ginger burst out in laughter.

         “Bite me.” you retorted back to her and Vodka laughed as she shook her head.

         “Bet Whiskey would bite you.” she responded and you snapped your head over to her with another scowl. “Bet you’d like that too.” You felt the flush from before reignite and crawled up your face as Ginger and Vodka looked at you with wide eyes before bursting out in laughter. You pouted at them with furrowed eyebrows as you crossed your arms over your chest and sat back.

         The three of you quickly fell into conversation about that latest mission that you were prepping for when you halted your words completely as you spied Whiskey slowly walking out of the lake. Your eyes darted over to him from under your sunglasses and your jaw dropped slightly. His swim trunks were plastered to his lower half and almost translucent from the lake water. His naked chest was on full display to your eyes and they took in their fill.

Smooth tan skin stretched across his broad shoulders. The pectoral muscles sat high on his chest and had just the right amount of definition to them. You could see the dark patch of hair in between them and you felt your body begin to heat as you stared. As your eyes traveled lower you saw the hair end right at the lower edge of his pectorals and the abdominal muscles were only slightly defined. Whiskey wasn’t like those guys who worked out continuously just to be able to have a six pack. No, Whiskey worked out because it was required for his survival. So though his body didn’t have that toned defined six pack it still held a strength that subconsciously spoke to your own body and made your core clench in need for him. You spotted the second patch of dark hair that created a v shape that led straight down into his swim trunks and you idly wondered what lay underneath them.

         Droplets of water were racing down his naked chest and your eyes hungrily trailed them until they disappeared into the waistband of his trunks. A noise like a gurgle slipped out of your mouth and your eyes widened as three heads turned towards you. You flushed brightly as all of their attention was on you now. “You alright ‘shine?” asked Whiskey and you jerkily nodded your head not looking over at him. Vodka and Ginger looked at each other with knowing smirks on their faces and you were instantly afraid of what they would do.

         “Hey Whiskey put a shirt on would ya? ‘Shine just about swallowed her tongue!” Vodka called out to him and you glared at her in embarrassment from your seat as you listened to her and Ginger burst out in teasing laughter.

         “I’ve got something else she could swallow other than her tongue.” Whiskey quipped out and you gasped loudly as you snapped your head over to him and he grinned winking at you. “What do ya say ‘shine? Wanna swallow something else?”

         “Hell yes.” you gasped out and felt as if you could die of embarrassment at your rash words. Whiskey grinned as he quickly moved over to you, his hand came up and cupped the back of your head as he tilted it back and leaned over kissing you deeply before sliding his tongue into your mouth. Both women next to you cheered and hollered loudly as the kiss continued for a bit.

         “Finally you two dunderheads!” called Tequila as he walked up towards you all. Yes, finally.

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 3 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story

On AO3.

Ships: none

Wasrnings: Aaron and Alex get punched by the Schuylers and theyre at a party so drinking. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week passed quicker than expected and soon enough Alex was dragging Aaron along to the meeting place with Herc, Lafayette and John. Inside he was hoping none of them had read up on their history and wouldn’t know what Aaron had done.

Or that they at least wouldn’t be salty.

No such luck, the moment they arrived Alex skipped forwards as he introduced Aaron: “Hi, guys, this Aaron Bartow, my roommate.”

At the name John surged forwards, only getting held back by Lafayette, who whispered: “Lets not do this tonight.”

John tore himself free and jabbed his finger at Aaron as he hissed: “The only reason you don’t have a broken nose right now is because I don’t want to ruin our evening and Alex is attached to you for some reason.”

Before Aaron could reply Alex stepped in: “Damn, I knew people tell you not to mix social circles, but I did not picture this. What did you do piss John off? He’s practically sunshine.”

The others all stared at him, unsure if they should explain or just leave him in the dark as they had done so far. No one had informed Alex of who they were, besides mentioning soldiers and revolution – or lawyer in Aarons case.

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Alex broke the tension.

“Just leave it, Alex. It’s too complicated.” Herc said.

“Ooohh, relationship drama through the ages.” Alex couldn't help but tease, “Were you past lovers?”

Aaron and John both chocked as Laf and Herc burst out laughing and suddenly the tension from before was gone as Herc gasped: “Oh my god, Alex, I know you have no context, but that was the funniest shit to date.”

“But was I right?” he asked.

“NO!” suddenly Aaron and John could agree, both with horror on their faces.

John grimaced: “I’m gay, but not for him, ew.”

“I feel like I should be offended, but I honestly don’t care.” Aaron replied.

“Sad, you two would be cute together.” now he was just talking shit and if it ever came out that he’d already known right now, he was going to be fucked.

There were more snorts and sounds of horror. When everyone had calmed down again he gestured to the house from which sounds of the party were coming. He said: “Are we going to get shitfaced now?”

John forgot Aaron as he whooped loudly and practically dragged the others inside, leaving Aaron to sigh and trudge after them. He had forgotten how much he hadn’t missed this.

Inside Alex looked around for the Angie, who had invited them. It was polite to sat hi to the host after all. He soon spotted her and dragged his companions over to her and two other girls by her side.

“Hello, Alex, I’m unsure which of you to thank for inviting me.” he greeted with a charming smile, “I also brought my housemate Aaron, hope it’s not an issue.”

“Aaron?” Angie asked.

“Yeah, oh and that’s John, Herc and Lafayette, his real name is way too long so we just call him Laf.” he smiled.

Before he could say anything else one of the other girls had punched Aaron in the face. The puzzle pieces fell in place, but before he could say anything Angies fist collided with his own. His hands flew up and he yelled: “What the hell!”

In the background he heard Lafayette ask: “Schulyers?”

“Yes, naturally.” Angie replied.

“Alex doesn’t remember or he really isn’t him.” Lafayette said softly, “We’re unsure.”

Pretending he hadn’t overheard the conversation, he looked up and said: “I probably deserved that, though I am unsure why, but, and I repeat, what the hell! Do you always go around punching your guests?”

Angie gasped and Alex felt kind of bad, since he honestly did deserve that. She explained: “I’m so sorry, I thought- with Aaron- and then, you- god, I’m so sorry, I knew an Alex, well, an Alexander, in a past life and he broke my sisters heart.”

“Damn, he must have really fucked up.” Alex sympathized.

“Yeah, he cheated on me and published it for the world to know.” the girl who punched Aaron told him, “Elizabeth Schild, but everyone calls me Lizzy.”

“Alex Hambleton, and that guy sounds like a fucking asshole, pardon my language. He deserves more than a punch at this point.” he said, trying to apologize while also not, “But why did Aaron get punched?”

“Well, maybe now it isn’t him, since you’re not-” Lizzy, no Eliza, his Betsy, said, “But if he is who I think he is, then he shot my husband.”

“Holy shit.” Alex forced his eyes to go wide with surprise, “Remember what I said? Holy fuck. I was right, well not completely, but holy shit.”

“What?” Angie, Angelica, asked.

“Well, this is awkward, well, uhm, when I asked these three if I should invite Aaron here, they asked me what, you know- what was the worst that could happen, you see.” Alex stumbled.

“The point.” there was a reason he had always liked Angelica.

“The worst I came up with was that he over there murdered your past lover, not hers, and that you were going to murder him and that I was going to be involved somehow and then I was going to get deported for being an accessory.” Alex told her.

“That is scarily close.” Eliza said.

“Exactly!” Alex said, “Way too close, jikes. Please, don’t murder him, I want to keep my visa, please.”

“I’ll consider it.” Angelica raised a brow, charmed.

“Thanks.” Aaron sounded strained, his nose was still bleeding.

“So, are you the guy who shot the husband.” Alex asked, he had to, it would be suspicious if he didn’t.

Aaron looked around to all the expecting faces and sighed defeated, this was not how he had hoped this evening to go: “Yes.”

“On one hand, damn, on the other hand, that guy kinda deserved it.” Alex told him, “So, silver linings.”

“You are extremely calm for a man rooming with a confirmed murderer.” John said, still mad at Aaron.

Alex shrugged: “I mean, that was the past, people change, my man. And mean, I’m still alive, so I trust him.”

He tried to ignore the look of awe and disbelief on Aarons face.

“Weirdo.” said the other girl, “I’m Margret Smith, but call me Peggy.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Alex said, he was glad Eliza had found her sisters, she deserved to have something nice like that in her life. He added: “Hey, Peggy, could you show me where the ice is? It’s not that I don’t love this drama that I’m unable to follow, but my nose hurts.”

“Yeah, sure.” she said, before sending her sisters a look and dragging Alex off to give the others privacy to talk about the past.

They wormed their way through the crowd of bodies to a luckily empty kitchen, where Alex was given an ice pack for his nose. Sitting on the counter he asked: “Sorry if this rude, but did you know what they were talking about?”

Peggy shrugged and said: “I mean, technically yeah, we used to be sisters in our past lives, but I died before all the drama, so it’s always more them and then me. I’m the ‘and Peggy’, at least Margret is slightly better than Margarita as a name”

Alex snorted and nodded, de and Peggy had always gotten along. She’d struggled with this before as well. He offered: “At least you know. It seems everyone wants me to be someone, but I am my own person. Having a past life seems to be exhausting and it would only drag me down, I have so much to achieve.”

Peggy grinned and said: “Well, I don’t blame them for thinking it, honestly. You are so much like the other Alexander, he made it to the History books, you know.”

“Really?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, you have no clue how awkward it is to learn about your brother-in-law during high school.” she confided.

He laughed and said: “That must be insane, I’m honestly tempted to ask who he was, but I also don’t want to know, because then I know who everyone wants me to be and it seems like he was a lot to live up to, being a shitty husband aside.”

“Lizzy called him her little hurricane.” Peggy told him, “He was quite much, but in a good way, as far as I knew him. Always talking or writing.”

Alex grinned, he had always gotten the gossip about Angelica and Eliza from Peggy and it seemed even death and more than 200 years had not changed that.

He replied: “Damn, that does sound like too much energy,” god was he one to judge, he was practically still the same, “How about we go back, before they actually murder Aaron and we’re accessories.”

It delighted him that he got a laugh out of the youngest sister as she gave him a drink, for the last of the pain as she told him, before going to find the others again.

Aaron had already left, but the night was good nonetheless. Alex, however, was getting quite concerned with all the people he’d know. If he wasn’t careful, he would be forced to tell everyone he knew who he was.

As much as he loved seeing his Betsy again, he hadn’t deserved Eliza before and he certainly didn’t deserve Eliza again. He wasn’t going to force her to go through that again.

So, he spend the night flirting with a guy, named Yoseph, making sure he had known no one with the name. And distanced himself.

[artificialqueens]

Washed in the Tide of Her Breathing 2/4 (Branjie)--athena2

A/N: Thank you to everyone that read and commented on chapter 1! Your support means so much to me! I would love if you could leave some feedback on this chapter. Writ is the best and I can’t thank them enough for beta-ing, brainstorming with me, and answering all my questions. (Also, I’ve taken too many English classes not to cite my source, so the article about the Melville to Hawthorne letter can be found here).

For a second when she wakes up, Brooke forgets.

She forgets there’s a woman just feet away, tucked under a plaid quilt in Brooke’s old bedroom-turned-guest-room that’s been useless until now, her presence breaking through the dust of memories coating the room. The room overlooks the ocean, and Brooke used to read by the window while sea-kissed breezes flowed through. Her parents smiled at her from the precious few photos she had of them, a collection that stopped growing before she did.

Brooke had moved into her grandfather’s room years ago, after carefully packing most of his stuff away (something she discussed at length with Dr. Ganache), and tries not to feel like an imposter in his room. This morning, she reminds herself that she’s capable and deserving of her job, capable and deserving of being in his space, capable and deserving of living, and gets out of bed.

Smoky gray casts a shadow over the window. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, splattering on the roof, and it seems the roads really will clear by Monday. But that still leaves three days of the same gentle water Brooke loves imprisoning her like some princess in a tower.

It’s not being stuck inside that bothers her. Brooke has more than enough food, books, and streaming services to last. It’s the thought of being stuck with someone, mind racing and skin itching with the thought of someone watching her constantly.

She takes slow, measured breaths and ties a few knots, fears rising out on a steady stream of air. She’ll be polite to Vanessa, they’ll watch TV, and Vanessa will be gone Monday. This whole thing will be just a memory for Brooke, a tiny drop of water in the ocean. A few weeks and she won’t remember the sound of Vanessa’s laugh, how it’s rough and velvety in the same breath. A few months and she’ll probably forget her name, how it’s sweet like chocolate in Brooke’s mouth.

Brooke flicks through a book, the weight of it as steadying now as it was in her childhood, the idea of all those worlds beneath her fingers making her feel secure, comforted. It was these worlds she escaped to, to have adventures alongside the characters, to pretend she had parents waiting for her like they did.

“Morning, Brooke!”

Alice in Wonderland slips into Brooke’s lap as she jumps.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Vanessa asks.

“I’m fine.” Brooke takes a good look at Vanessa, stomach stirring as she does. Vanessa looks stronger today, more vibrant. Her cheeks bloom with rosy life, eyes bright and grin broad. Brooke is so relieved she’s okay, showing no pain from whatever (or whoever) hurt her, that she ignores her ridiculous theory about Vanessa being some sea creature. Vanessa’s okay, and that’s enough.

She realizes she forgot her medication in her cloud of worry, and notices Vanessa watching.

“I take medication, I–”

“It makes you feel better?” Vanessa asks.

“Yeah.” Brooke has bad days occasionally, but when the mental illness was at its worst she couldn’t even get out of bed, could do nothing but lay there and pray for sleep to avoid being conscious. She wouldn’t be able to function without the meds, and she’s not ashamed of it.

“That’s all that matters,” Vanessa says firmly. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

Brooke nods appreciatively. Her offer of coffee is met with an enthusiastic nod, and Vanessa is practically vibrating with energy as Brooke passes her the lobster mug. It’s a good thing she made decaf.

Vanessa is at ease in the kitchen, cheerfully eating eggs on toast, and Brooke wonders what it’s like to be so comfortable around others, to say things without turning them over in her mind a hundred times, worrying how they’ll sound. To be the kind of person other people go toward, instead of away from.

“We gonna watch Thrones today?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke nods.

Vanessa crunches her last bite of toast. “Let’s go.”

—

The morning passes quickly, Vanessa letting out whoops and gasps as they move through episodes. It makes Brooke grit her teeth at first, because she always watches things in silence, but when Vanessa screeches about ‘Sharpie Bannister’ (as she’s renamed Cersei Lannister), Brooke has to laugh. There’s something about watching the shock and excitement play out across Vanessa’s face that’s simply infectious, impossible to resist.

Vanessa tags along when Brooke climbs the steps for her afternoon light routine. Brooke’s skin prickles as Vanessa watches her. The only person that’s seen her work is her grandfather, and Brooke sweats with worry that she’ll mess up the one thing she’s good at and look like an idiot in front of Vanessa.

It takes Brooke a few windows to sink back into her rhythm. She can’t really blame Vanessa for staring. Brooke used to observe her grandfather with the same bright-eyed wonder over how his gnarled fingers moved of their own accord, how he didn’t even look where he stepped because his feet knew the way. If Vanessa’s open mouth is any indication, Brooke has perfected his movements, making it all look as natural as breathing, and she bursts with pride.

“So, how do you know this stuff?” Vanessa asks, motioning for Brooke to sit with her at the base of the light. This close, Brooke can smell her own lavender body wash Vanessa’s been using. “You have a degree in lighthousing?”

Brooke hugs her knees to her chest. “I have a degree in English, actually.” It may have taken her a while to finish it, after a leave of absence because the anxiety and depression grew so severe she couldn’t complete her assignments, but she had finished all the same, with a minor in marine studies. “The lighthouse stuff is from my grandfather. He taught me everything I know.”

“He’s a lighthouse keeper too?”

“He was.”

The silence hangs like a midday sun as Vanessa processes the words.

“I’m sorry, Brooke,” she says softly. Vanessa’s hand curves toward Brooke’s knee before darting back, like she wants to comfort Brooke but isn’t sure she should. Brooke suddenly wants her to, wants to see what Vanessa’s hand feels like, wants its steadying weight.

“It’s okay,” Brooke says.

They sit in fog-thick silence and Brooke wonders if she should speak or leave, sink or swim. The air is wide open for her to talk about her grandfather, but she just doesn’t want to. She’s been thinking about him constantly since she found Vanessa, trying to be kind like him, but she selfishly wants to hoard her memories like treasure, not share them. Vanessa doesn’t know how he preferred waffles to pancakes and put cinnamon in the batter, how we let her practice dance recitals in the living room and applauded wildly, how he let bugs go outside rather than kill them, and if Brooke tells her, then the memories aren’t just Brooke’s anymore. It’s like she’s giving part of him away.

“It’s real cool. This lighthouse stuff, I mean.” Vanessa fills the quiet. “You make it look so easy.”

Brooke shrugs. “I’ve had lots of practice.” Learning it was the best thing for her after losing her parents, and she had thrown herself into it to ease the pain. It gave her something to focus on, something to keep her worried mind occupied. A way to help people get home, like her parents couldn’t.

“Well, it’s beautiful. The way you move and everything.”

Brooke swallows nervously, stomach fluttering like butterflies are running wild. No one’s complimented the way she moves since her dance days. But Vanessa notices the grace Brooke’s always carried, even thinks it’s beautiful. The last bit of fear melts away, and Brooke stops thinking of Vanessa as an intruder and starts thinking of her as a fri–acquaintance. It’ll have to do, because there’s no title for ‘nice person that washed up on my lighthouse’.

“Thank you,” Brooke says finally. “Um, do you like quesadillas? I was thinking of making them for lunch.”

Vanessa grins, exposing bright white teeth. “Of course!”

—

Vanessa asks if they can play a board game that night, and Brooke brushes the dust of her childhood and pulls out Monopoly. They play on the floor, lantern illuminating the board, the glow highlighting all the different shades of brown–chocolate and hazelnut and mocha–swirling in Vanessa’s eyes. Brooke keeps getting lost in them, and has to tear her gaze away to focus.

Brooke quickly sees that Vanessa came to win, racking up properties and snatching money from Brooke like a middle-aged banker. But Brooke’s had years of practice, and she takes Vanessa’s money right back, their stacks too high to tell who’s winning.

Vanessa asks questions while they play, wanting to know Brooke’s favorite foods and colors and movies. Brooke hesitates at first, but what’s the harm in giving these pieces of herself to someone she’ll never see again? So Brooke answers questions and echoes them to Vanessa, hours ticking by like minutes as she learns the colors Vanessa likes to wear, the funny movies she watches to cheer herself up. She talks more with Vanessa in an hour than she does in a week.

Brooke coughs and sneezes through the game, using a whole box of tissues. Not changing her clothes after finding Vanessa is catching up with her. When Brooke sneezes so hard it sends paper money fluttering, Vanessa’s eyes flicker to her in concern.

“You gettin’ sick?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke shrugs. “Probably a cold. Happens a lot near the water.” Brooke often got sick as a kid because of how cold and damp it was by the sea. Her grandfather would set up a makeshift bed on the couch, tell her stories, and let her watch anything she wanted, a Star Wars marathon making the coughing and sneezing and bitter cherry medicine almost bearable.

Brooke can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Vanessa sitting at her side, telling her stories.

—

Brooke is definitely sick when Saturday morning rolls around, her head cloudy like it’s stuffed with cotton, tissue after tissue chafing her raw nose.

The rain is still trickling down, mocking the weather reports that said it would stop by Friday. The new report is predicting Sunday.

Brooke shuffles into the kitchen and sees Vanessa sipping coffee and looking so right at the table. Brooke’s never considered her kitchen empty before, but Vanessa makes it full.

“You’re sick!” Vanessa yelps with worry. Vanessa is worried about her, is upset that she’s sick, and maybe it’s the illness making Brooke’s thoughts fuzzy, but she’s grateful Vanessa is here, grateful to have someone worried for her.

“I’m fine. Just a cold.”

Vanessa’s hand stretches up to her forehead before Brooke can stop it. She figures it’s rude to push Vanessa away, and her touch is soothing, so Brooke leaves it.

“I don’t think you have a fever,” Vanessa says, hand lingering longer than necessary.

“It’s just a cold,” Brooke repeats, wracked with a sudden shiver from the loss of contact.

“Well, why don’t you lie down?” It’s an order more than a suggestion, and Brooke gives in, too tired to argue despite the strangeness of it all. No one has cared for her like this in years. She usually just took medicine and went on with her day, no one even knowing she was sick, and Vanessa seating her on the couch and buzzing with concern spreads affectionate warmth through Brooke’s chest. Some part of Brooke likes it, likes having someone take care of her when she’s done it alone for so long. And some part of her likes that the someone is Vanessa.

Vanessa carefully drapes a blanket over Brooke, watching her with such tenderness and adoration it makes her ache with a sudden longing to hold Vanessa. The cold is really messing with her head. Vanessa brings her cold meds, cough drops, and extra tissues before settling into the armchair and starting the next episode.

Brooke’s eyelids grow heavy after the theme song, and she drifts off into a warm sleep punctuated with dreams of sailing with Vanessa.

A gentle hand nudges her shoulder, and Brooke blinks awake to see Vanessa, bowl of steaming soup in her hands. Brooke’s mind lags as she processes the scene. Vanessa made her soup. Vanessa took the time to go through her pantry and cupboards just to make soup to help her feel better. It’s been seven years since someone cooked for her. Brooke’s eyes dampen at the corners (it’s probably the cold).

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” Brooke says, sitting up and eating a spoonful.

“Don’t worry about it. You need sleep when you’re sick.” Vanessa pauses. “Anything else I can do? Call a doctor or somethin’?”

“I don’t need a doctor for a cold,” Brooke says, melting at how concerned Vanessa is. “Soup and meds are enough. You didn’t have to do all this for me,” she adds, looking down at the bowl.

“I want to,” Vanessa says firmly. “You got sick ‘cause of me.”

Brooke shakes her head. “I was only outside a few minutes getting you. I didn’t change my wet clothes after. That’s my fault, not yours.”

“Still,” Vanessa insists. “It’s the least I could do.”

Vanessa tucks a strand of hair behind Brooke’s ear and Brooke has no air in her lungs. Her whole face tingles, and she wishes she could grab Vanessa’s hand and put it on her cheek, let the warmth rest there forever, an eternal flame to keep Brooke warm.

The day is cozy and carefree, but there’s something bugging Brooke, swirling below the water like a predator. It’s not until Vanessa gives her more cold meds that night that it hits her: Vanessa isn’t sick. Vanessa was sailing in a thunderstorm, thrown into the icy sea, left in the rain all night, and doesn’t have so much as a sniffle.

Brooke would say it isn’t humanly possible, but it’s true. Unless…

No. She needs to stop with her theories. It’s probably just the grayness of the world affecting her judgement. Some urge to keep her grandfather alive, to put a wild story in everything she sees.

It’s a quiet night, Vanessa more hushed than usual, a mug of hot chocolate making Brooke full and sleepy, electing to sleep on the couch because she’s too comfortable under her fleece blankets to move.

Vanessa heads to bed with a soft ‘feel better, Brooke’ tumbling from her lips and soothing Brooke’s skin like hot water, but when Brooke wakes the next morning, Vanessa is back in the chair, watching over Brooke like a tower watching over ships. When Brooke asks her about it, Vanessa just says she wanted to make sure Brooke was okay.

—

The weather report was right, and Sunday is the first dry day in what feels like years, the world bathed a delicate gray-blue as the public works crew clears the roads. Vanessa radiates her own sun in the lighthouse, growing more exuberant by the hour.

Vanessa wasn’t exactly quiet before, but she bursts with renewed energy over waffles that morning. She makes Brooke take more medicine and drinks two cups of coffee with a pound of sugar, asks (commands) Brooke if they can make brownies, and eats three of said brownies in one sitting.

“You know any stories?” Vanessa asks that night. “Sailors always tell stories in the movies. And lighthouses are good places for stories, all spooky and shit.”

Brooke has to agree. The night is perfect, orange fire glowing against the pitch-black darkness outside, wind rattling the windows like a monster begging to be let in, she and Vanessa trading smiles over mugs of hot chocolate, blankets wrapped around their shoulders. It’s nights like these that Brooke believes the legends with all her heart, the world so alive with magic they had to be real.

“I know some old legends about sirens and mermaids and stuff,” Brooke suggests.

Vanessa flinches so quickly Brooke might have imagined it, an unreadable expression settling over her features.

“Sure,” Vanessa agrees. “Maybe somethin’ happy, or romantic?”

Most legends were darker than the depths of the ocean, used as terrifying warnings to respect whatever creatures lived in the sea so they didn’t kill you, but Brooke searches for something at least a little happy.

“Sit by the fire with me?” Brooks asks, heart thumping.

Vanessa’s eyes twinkle brighter than ever in the firelight, and Brooke’s not sure if her face is burning from the fire or Vanessa’s knee pressing against hers.

Brooke clears her throat. Her ears are full of her grandfather’s voice, deep and rich as the sea. She can hear him clearly tonight, in her spot on the rug that used to be his, and she knows he speaks with her when she begins.

“Once upon a time–”

“This some kinda fairytale?” Vanessa interrupts.

Brooke shoots her the same look Vanessa gives Joffrey on-screen. It must work, because Vanessa bursts into giggles.

“Okay, okay, keep going.”

“Once upon a time, there lived a lonely young woman named Arabella. Her father was a lighthouse keeper. He told her mermaids lived in the sea, and every day, Arabella went to the water’s edge, hoping to see one. But none ever turned up.

“One day, a mermaid named Cordelia swam to shore. She had been watching Arabella, but was too shy to see her. Cordelia had hair like spun gold and eyes of sapphire. Some said the ocean herself had made her eyes. Arabella fell in love instantly. But she couldn’t breathe underwater, and Cordelia couldn’t walk on land, so Arabella took her boat out while Cordelia swam beside her.

“As the days passed, their love grew like the waves. They were so in love, neither noticed they were going farther and farther into the ocean. Soon, they were at the cove of the murderous sirens, falsely promising people their heart’s desires and drowning them.

Vanessa’s hands fly over her mouth. She leans closer, eager to hear what happens next, and Brooke surges with pride.

“Arabella’s desire was to breathe underwater, and Cordelia’s desire was to walk on land. The siren queen, Marina–”

“It’s Marilla,” Vanessa says. “The siren queen. Marilla, not Marina.”

The crackling fire is the only sound in the room.

“You-you’re right,” Brooke says. “Marina is the mermaid queen, I always mix them up. I just–how did you know?” She’s not judging or doubting Vanessa, just curious. Most legends have died out.

“I…I think I read it in one of your books when you were sick,” Vanessa says.

“Oh. Anyway, Marilla promised them their desires, and they were pulled beneath the waves. But Marina, the mermaid queen, didn’t want the lovers to perish. She convinced Marilla to grant their wishes, but at a cost.

“She allowed Arabella to breathe underwater for one hour each dawn, and allowed Cordelia to walk on land for one hour each dusk. But if they met any other time, or stayed longer than an hour, they would be cursed with eternal solitude.

“They obeyed. Cordelia stayed beneath the sea, longing for the hour she could feel sand between her toes. Arabella stayed on land, longing for the hour when the water flowed around her. The two hours they were together each day were the happiest in both their lives. They met every day, even as old age meant Cordelia had to hold Arabella in the water and help her walk on land. They stayed in love until Arabella died, and Marina released Cordelia’s soul, so their spirits could be together for eternity.”

Vanessa’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she can speak.

“Wow, Brooke,” Vanessa breathes. “You should have people come here on tours and tell them stories. You’re really, really good at it.”

Brooke beams with joy. It’s a small compliment, but it means more than Vanessa knows. Her grandfather could have an entire room biting their nails in suspense, hanging on his every word. Brooke has never told a story to anyone, and not only is she good at it, she loves it. Loves the rush of bringing words to life, of having Vanessa so close that Brooke could just reach out and touch her, maybe even kiss her–

“Thanks. Someone asked me about doing tours before, actually. I said no.”

“Why?”

“Just…didn’t want anyone inside.” Brooke confesses.

“I get that,” Vanessa says. “This place is special to you. If you don’t want to do tours, that’s fine. I’d just hate to see you say no because of fear.”

How could Vanessa understand her fears so effortlessly? Brooke loves the history of the lighthouse, how it’s served ships for centuries. Maybe, if she works hard with Dr. Ganache, she could feel safe enough to let people in and share that history.

“I’m headin’ to bed.” Vanessa yawns. “Thanks for the story.”

“Sure.”

Brooke lingers behind, curiosity driving her to the book of myths on the coffee table. She checks twice, but there’s no mention of Marilla.

—

“Is that the sun?” Vanessa asks Monday morning, jaw dropping open.

“I think so.” Brooke smiles.

Vanessa whistles. “Damn. I thought I ended up on some planet with no sun! Can we see the town today?” She asks, bouncing in her chair.

“Okay.”

Three days ago, Brooke would have been out the door at the crack of dawn to get Vanessa on the earliest train home. But somehow, between the daily meals and board games and stories, Brooke has grown comfortable with Vanessa, smiling whenever Vanessa laughs, passing dishes to the left for Vanessa to dry without thinking, her heart softening every time their soap-slick hands brush against each other. There’s a certain ease between them, one Brooke didn’t think she’d have with anyone but her grandfather.

Even when they watch TV, Brooke finds herself turning to Vanessa during big reveals, to see Vanessa’s eyes widen and her jaw drop, revelling in the knowledge that she’s not alone, that someone is sharing it with her. She smiles when Vanessa does the same, trying to discern spoilers from Brooke’s expression and gloating when her predictions are right.

Brooke’s heart is heavy over Vanessa leaving, and she wants to make an amazing day for her, one she’ll remember even after returning to the bright city lights.

Brooke thinks of what Vanessa might enjoy in town. Brooke has always liked the main street of Cape Charles, how the cheery shops smiled at her even when most of the owners didn’t, turning their noses up at the crazy lighthouse keeper. But she can take Vanessa to the diner, and the bookstore, where Brooke used to need a stool to reach the shelves until her growth spurt hit and her bones screamed as she shot up eight inches in a year.

She wonders what it will be like to have feet beside hers on the cobblestones again, to eat with someone across the booth again, to see another reflection in the shop windows.

“D-do you want to have breakfast? There’s a really good diner on Main Street.”

“You ain’t gotta ask me twice!”

Being cooped up must be hard for Vanessa, Brooke guesses. Vanessa lives in the city, where she could do anything at any time. Brooke has never liked the dizziness or buzz of the city, how easily you could get lost with no one to even care about finding you. Even when she took classes in the college there, she would ride the commuter train, take her usual walk to campus, and return the same way, never straying for fear of getting lost in a sea of concrete, no light to guide her home (it was a relief when she found out two years in that she could finish her degree online). She hasn’t returned to the city since that bad day when her grandfather died.

“Hey, Brooke?” Vanessa snaps Brooke out of her thoughts. “You got anything I could wear that’s not a wool sweater? Don’t get me wrong, they cute on you, but I don’t think they’re working for me.”

“Of course.”

Vanessa in her house is strange enough, but having Vanessa in her room, her big brown eyes roaming across the bed where Brooke sleeps and the photos linking Brooke to the past, makes Brooke feel like her entire being is on display, like Vanessa can see right through her.

“And I thought your wool stuff was out of control!” Vanessa exclaims.

Brooke smothers a laugh at the array of flannel shirts hanging in her closet.

“I do have a lot of wool and flannel, huh?” They’re Brooke’s favorites because of the coziness, protecting her from the cold sea air.

“Well, they look good on you.”

It’s the second time Vanessa’s said she looks nice, Brooke notes. She wonders if it means anything, if Vanessa’s heart squeezes when she looks at Brooke like Brooke’s does when she looks at Vanessa. She also wonders if it means anything that she thinks Vanessa is beautiful in anything.

“Your jeans are longer than my whole body,” Vanessa mutters. “What are you, like, six-five?”

“Five-ten.”

“Shit.”

Brooke laughs. She’d put Vanessa at five-three, if that, and she likes how tiny Vanessa is, how Brooke’s clothes make her even tinier and more adorable.

“This coat is cool.” Vanessa nods at the navy coat in Brooke’s closet.

“I’ll show you if you want,” Brooke offers.

It’s her grandfather’s lighthouse keeper coat, navy with brass buttons, done in the old style. He took excellent care of it and it’s impeccable, heavy and warm like his hugs. Brooke used to put it on as a kid, giggling as it dragged on the floor and thinking she’d never be big enough or good enough to fill it. But she’d inherited his height as well as his eyes, and when she put it on a year after he died, the coat fit her like it was meant to do nothing else. She had taken it as a permission of sorts, some sign from the universe that she was worthy of wearing it, of running the lighthouse. That she would be okay on her own.

“What’s the K for?” Vanessa asks, pointing to the gold loops embroidered on the lapel, neat K’s stitched inside.

“For keeper.”

“You sure are.”

Brooke flushes as red as a warning sky, and busies herself finding clothes for Vanessa, grabbing a red sweatshirt since it’s Vanessa’s favorite color, and leggings so she won’t trip on any pant hems. Brooke takes jeans and a navy fisherman’s sweater for herself and changes in the bathroom.

Vanessa is fully dressed when she gets back, gazing at the pictures on Brooke’s dresser. “This your grandpa?”

“Yeah.”

“You have his eyes. They look like the sea.” Vanessa smiles. “I bet he was kind like you too.”

“He was.” It’s all she can manage, tears hovering on the horizon. Whenever she was upset, all she had to do was look at him and she knew things would be okay. All she’s ever wanted is to be like him, to be good and dedicated, a beacon of hope for people.

Nina says Brooke is like him, but Nina knew her grandfather, saw Brooke’s similarities to him emerge, and Nina is always nice. But Vanessa doesn’t know her grandfather. She barely knows Brooke. She has no reason to say it, no idea how much it means. For her to think Brooke resembles the man who was her guiding light for so long is irrefutable proof that Brooke is like him, is maybe as good as him, and it warms her heart like a fire. She’s never been more grateful for Vanessa.

“Do you miss him?” Vanessa asks, cringing a second later. “Shit, sorry, you don’t have to answer. Don’t mind my nosy ass.”

“I do,” Brooke says. “He–he was a great person. One of the best.” It’s gotten better over the years, the wound receding to a dull pain, one she sometimes can’t even feel. But then she’ll do something that tugs on the scar tissue, like looking at his picture a second too long or making waffles that taste almost exactly like his, but not quite, and the pain comes roaring back anew.

“Hey,” Vanessa says gently, wiping a tear from Brooke’s cheek, one she didn’t know had fallen. Vanessa is so close Brooke just wants to wrap her in a hug. She wants Vanessa’s head against her chest, wants to bury her face in Vanessa’s hair, wants Vanessa to feel her heart beating. “Let’s go eat.”

—

Nina almost drops her pen when she sees Vanessa next to Brooke. Brooke’s mouth dries out as she struggles for an explanation.

“I’m an old friend of Brooke’s,” Vanessa supplies smoothly. “Just visiting for a few days.”

Vanessa and Nina carry on like actual old friends as Nina takes them to a booth, and Brooke isn’t surprised. Nina can make friends with a wall, and Brooke doesn’t know anyone who wouldn’t love her in seconds.

“So,” Vanessa says, peeking over her menu with a grin, “what’s good here?”

“I always get the apple-cinnamon pancakes,” Brooke says.

“Always always?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t ever wanna change it up?” Vanessa asks in confusion.

Brooke lowers her head, heat creeping up her neck. “I don’t like change,” she admits. Change had been a police officer’s scuffed black boots in a cheery kindergarten classroom. Change had been an unknown number calling from the city, saying her grandfather was in critical condition.

“I know change can be scary,” Vanessa says softly. “But what if you did just a little one? Like, what if you still get pancakes, but with”–Vanessa scans the menu–“bananas instead?”

Maybe Vanessa is right. Dr. Ganache had said a routine would be helpful when Brooke began her recovery, but she should never feel trapped by it. Brooke’s been sticking to it so long she’s never considered if it’s guiding her or forcing her, protecting her or caging her.

Brooke knows bananas aren’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. She knows her palms shouldn’t be sweating. But if she doesn’t have apples, does that mean the day won’t go like it should? Will it make something bad happen? What if she did something different on those bad days, like eating raspberry jam on her toast instead of strawberry, and that was why the bad things happened?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Vanessa says quickly.

“I want to.”

Brooke’s fork shakes a bit when the banana walnut pancakes arrive, but they’re just as delicious as the apple ones, and Brooke doesn’t think anything bad can happen with Vanessa smiling at her, eating hash browns.

“So, Miss English Degree, you ever read that book about the big-ass whale?”

“You mean Moby Dick?” Brooke snorts.

“Yeah! With Captain Abfab!”

“Ahab.” Brooke giggles. “And I did. It’s kinda gay, actually. Melville was basically in love with Nathaniel Hawthorne. He wrote him a letter saying their hearts beat in each other’s ribs.”

“That’s romantic as hell.” Vanessa’s eyes are bright with admiration.

Brooke lets herself dream of writing letters to Vanessa, pressing kisses to the envelope.

Next in line is A’keria’s boutique. It takes all of ten seconds for Vanessa and A’keria to cackle in unison and talk about clothes. Maybe Vanessa is magic, just not how Brooke thought. Being so open with people, winning them over with a few words, is certainly its own magic, one Brooke has never been skilled in.

Vanessa squeals in delight when they drive past Monet and Monique’s Clam Shack. “Oohh, can we stop there?” she asks, wriggling in her seat like a toddler. She sticks her head out the window to read the specialties advertised on the sign. “Are you one of those ‘we have food at home’ people? ‘Cause my mom used to–” Vanessa cuts herself off abruptly, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear water out of her ears, or maybe a memory out of her mind. Her smile flies back. “Look, they have fried shrimp, that’s your favorite!”

Brooke takes a second to respond around the lump in her throat, because no one has known her favorite food or wanted her to have it in seven years. It makes Brooke’s face warm, almost impossibly so, given the cold air blasting through Vanessa’s window.

“Fried shrimp it is.”

—

“Brooke?” Vanessa asks, looking up from her fried shrimp.

“Yeah?”

“Can I pay you back somehow? I mean, you saved me, and let me stay with you, and bought my food, and I…aren’t I in your debt?”

Brooke’s heart breaks at Vanessa’s earnestness. Was she not used to people being kind to her? Brooke could never make Vanessa give her anything back, especially when she’s just as much in Vanessa’s debt. How can Brooke explain that the past days have been a gift to her, one she can never repay?

“There’s no debt. There never will be,” Brooke says firmly. “I wanted to help you. I don’t want anything in return.”

Vanessa’s hand slides across the table, fingers curling around Brooke’s. “Thank you, Brooke. Really.”

Brooke grips Vanessa’s hand like she would grip a sailing rope to keep herself steady at sea, her body coming to life at the warm touch. “Of course. You’re my guest, for as long as you want.”

“I was thinkin’ about that, actually,” Vanessa begins. “I don’t have to be back in the city till Monday. And I like y–like it here, and I’m so grateful for you, and if it’s okay, do you think I could stay till Saturday?”

You could stay forever, Brooke thinks. A lifetime of board games and cooking together, of movies and morning coffee, of breathing salt air and watching the tides ebb and flow. Autumns tinted gold and springs tinted green, crunching on leaves and splashing in rain puddles. Winters of snowflakes sticking to windows and melting in your hair, a crackling fire and soft blankets. Summers of fresh blueberries and walks on the sand, the sunset so close you could touch it, fill your hands with its buttery light.

“I’d like that,” Brooke says.

—

Last week, four days had seemed like an eternity. Now, Brooke has five more days with Vanessa, and they aren’t enough for everything she wants to do.

Brooke’s heart has a crack in it, the first crack in a ship that leads to disaster as more and more water flows in. Each day that crack widens, another realization slipping inside and dragging her whole body down. How she won’t see Vanessa’s smile anymore. How the couch will be empty, not even a dent in the cushion where Vanessa sits.

They go bowling, and Brooke laughs till she cries over Vanessa’s hunched stance, rolling the ball with both hands and one time shooting it into another lane. They rack up tickets at the arcade and earn a Cape Charles pencil (‘300 tickets and all we get is a pencil?’ Vanessa rages). Vanessa wins a stuffed dolphin at the claw machine and gives it to Brooke. Brooke has slept with it every night since, holding it to her chest and pretending it’s Vanessa.

Every time Brooke burns from people’s stares, wondering why the ghost was released from her tower, Vanessa shoots them a death glare until they back off, reminding Brooke she doesn’t need to concern herself with them.

They finish Game of Thrones, Vanessa screaming about how they did her girl Dany dirty, and start on the Ghibli collection, wordlessly passing the tissue box to each other when Sophie puts Howl’s heart back into his chest.

Brooke relishes the brushing of their arms as they make dinner, Vanessa tossing croutons into the air and catching them in her mouth. Brooke loves putting the food on the table knowing the meal is something they created with their hands working together, trying to ignore that her future meals will be made with two hands, not four.

Before she knows it, it’s Friday night, and Brooke is trying to keep it together. She cooks Vanessa’s favorite foods, rice and beans with shrimp, plus salad, garlic bread, and chocolate cake.

They talk like they do every night, but Brooke has always been sensitive to change, and the air is different, thick with the knowledge that this is the last time, that there won’t be another dinner.

Brooke cuts the cake, and halfway through the first slice she realizes that she’ll have leftover cake and there won’t be anyone to share it with. This cake that she and Vanessa made will belong to Brooke alone, its frosting hardening and crumb drying with only one fork to eat it.

She looks at Vanessa’s lobster mug, irreparably labeling it Vanessa’s, and knows she won’t be able to look at it again without picturing Vanessa’s slim fingers wrapped around it, tossing her head back with laughter.

The crack in her heart widens into a chasm. All the sorrow over Vanessa leaving, the emptiness that will consume her after Vanessa’s gone, rush into Brooke’s heart until it sinks to the ocean floor, never to see sunlight again.

Stay, Brooke thinks but doesn’t say. Please stay. Her chest aches, and she thinks her ribs are throbbing with the pulse of Vanessa’s heart as well as her own.

But she can’t ask Vanessa to stay, stop her from returning to a life more exciting than this, to fabrics shinier than wool and flannel, to more restaurants and stores than she could count.

She can’t ask no matter how badly she wants to.

Brooke doesn’t do this. She doesn’t get attached. Dr. Ganache says she has a fear of abandonment, that she isolates herself as an unhealthy coping mechanism. She doesn’t form relationships, doesn’t even try, because her mind is trying to keep her safe, denying her any connection to spare her the pain of that connection’s loss.

You can’t lose someone if you don’t know them, let yourself get close to them. And Brooke has learned more about Vanessa, gotten closer with her, than she has let herself do with anyone else since her grandfather died.

She knows that Vanessa always buys the Rainbow Room in Monopoly just because she likes rainbows. She knows that Vanessa stops dead in the street to pet dogs, like Brooke used to. She knows Vanessa dances every chance she gets. She knows Vanessa has brought her places she hasn’t visited in years, has shielded her from people’s stares and kept her safe like a lighthouse tower.

“I have something for you,” Brooke says after cake, handing Vanessa the bracelet she made from ropes on her grandfather’s old boat.

“It’s a sailor knot,” Brooke explains. “Sailors wore them at sea. It’s supposed to bring good luck and protection on your travels.”

Vanessa is silent as she runs her fingers over the bracelet, tracing the fibers like she can feel the ocean clinging to them.

Brooke takes a breath. “Vanessa, um, I really liked having you here, and if you ever want to come back…” Tears stream down Vanessa’s face, and Brooke’s heart shatters. “I’m sorry! Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?”

The panic claws at Brooke, heart racing, each breath frantic as Vanessa’s tears thicken. Brooke wants to cry herself over seeing Vanessa so upset, and she struggles to stay above the tide of fear. Finally, Vanessa shakes her head, like she’s answering her own question.

“I can’t do this anymore, Brooke.” Her voice runs deep with sorrow, but Brooke is so relieved she’s talking that she manages to get air into her lungs, heart slowing. “I can’t keep lying to you.”

“What do you mean?” Brooke has ignored Vanessa’s obvious lies and refusal to talk about her life in the city, but the questions always lurk in her mind. Is she finally going to find out what happened? Is Vanessa running from something? Is–

Vanessa sighs. “I’m a siren.”

[gottagobuycheese]

Tag Thingy

Thanks @silent--sonata for indulging my terrible sleeping habits XD

(fyi this will probably be unnecessarily long and rambly, so it’s going under a cut (EDIT: whelp the song list got a little out of hand, I’d apologize if I were even remotely sorry)) 

Rules: Answer 17 questions & tag 17 people you want to get to know better  

Nickname: Cheese (or Lactose Wedge, or Dairy Product of Unspecified Origin and Purpose)

Zodiac Sign: Gemini! 

Height: 160.5 cm/5′3″ (Bubbles I refuse to believe you’re actually that much taller than me) 

Hogwarts house: Somewhere between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff allegedly, both of which I’d be honored to get sorted into, but honestly I’d just be stoked to get sorted at all 

Last thing I googled: I think it was something along the lines of “how to speed up audio playback in GarageBand,” but but my train of thought was derailed before I actually looked at any of the results so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (and on a related note, thanks again for the magical audio editing @imperiousheiress!)

Song stuck in my head: The end credits to Legacy of the Wizard (which is SUCH a jam, thank you for enlightening me @jessicafish) Following and followers: 227 (goodness just looking at that number is stress-inducing) and...104?! When the HECK did you all get here??? I think just last summer I was happily floating about in the 50′s. Anyways, to anyone I have not said hello, hello! Hope you enjoy your stay, and I am sincerely sorry if you expected Quality Original Content, or even just regularly scheduled other people’s content. Sadly, neither of these things tend to happen here. 

Amount I sleep: During the school year it’s usually anywhere between 30 minutes and 6 hours (DON’T EVEN START BUBBLES YOU HAVE NO RIGHT), usually landing in the 3/4 hour ranges if I’m smart about it, but now that I am on Unofficial Break, it’s usually at least around 6 hours (except today was 3 because Avatar is an excellent show and the weirdos in this house have regularly scheduled breakfast at 9-something every morning). Sadly my sleep schedule can only be forced to tolerate normalcy for so long before careening back in the other direction, so we’ll see if this is just a blip or if we’re back to normal mid-Atlantic Ocean hours!

Lucky number(s): I wouldn’t say these are necessarily favorite numbers, but I do like 2 and 9. But come to think of it, second attempts at Official Things do tend to go better for me than first attempts, so maybe there’s some merit there after all! Dream Job: Don’t think I’m really cut out for dreaming anymore, haha (unless you are a theoretical future employer in which case I am Extremely Full of Ambition and Passion). The bed-adjacent metaphor has been made, and not to brag, but I can sleep on pretty much any surface. Currently studying my Not Favorite aspect of STEM (was there ever a favorite or did I just like being good at things sometimes) and learning how to People™ properly (and also learning a gazillion convoluted drug names like what the heck dude, did you just fall asleep on your typewriter coming up with these), so I’ll take whatever place hires me and pays me enough not to depend on my parents for everything, I suppose. In an ideal world, that would entail a job where I could make friends, and even more importantly, a job where my shortcomings would not cause Massive and Irreparable Harm, but I don’t think this line of work really meshes with that last one, so I guess I’ll either have to get my shit together™ extremely soon or fake my death, adopt an alias, and flee to a completely new place with no ties whatsoever before trying to get another, less high stakes job. 

(Though I guess, less cynically, I like helping people well enough? And stories are fun! Maybe there could’ve been something with that. Not that there still can’t be, mind, but there’s still a long way to go between Here and There)

Wearing: Black shorts. Navy t-shirt. Brown some-specific-kind-of-jacket-I-forgot-the-name-of jacket. Is it summer? Is it fall? Am I in middle school? Who can say, but they are COMFY so sadly I have no cares to give

Favourite song(s): way way WAY too many to list here, and I do not have them all organized in a handy playlist separately, but to name a few (and these are not necessarily the MOST favorite okay, it doesn’t mean I don’t love stuff not on this list, it means you can’t force me to pick between my children and I am going to find at least one quick thing from a few things I like before I need to hit post and go back to looking like I’m being studious, and also things I think you should listen to right now, but for everything I’ve linked assuming I mean the whole OST), here’s a spam of links in no particular order: 

LoZ Wind Waker - The Great Sea (aka the epitome of optimism) 

Undertale - NGAHHH!! (I was about to link more but then I realized it’d be the whole soundtrack lol) 

LoZ Breath of the Wild - Hateno Village (Night) 

A:tLA - Peace (bad call BAD CALL NOW I HAVE EMOTIONS) 

Legend of Korra - Final Scene/Ending Theme (MISTAKES WERE MADE MISTAKES WERE MADE) 

Kung Fu Panda - Oogway Ascends (I feel like I’m taking you on a whole little album journey now XD) 

PMD: Explorers of Sky - Dialga’s Fight to the Finish (aka the Gotta Shower Fast song) 

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Pursuit ~ Cornered (aka the HURRY UP AND PACK UR SHIT YOUR FLIGHT LEAVES IN THREE HOURS song) 

Apollo Justice: A New Trial Is In Session (very underrated soundtrack imo) and also Apollo Justice: Telling the Truth (because these two are very closely associated in my head and it’s getting harder and harder to narrow things down so maybe I should stop lol) 

Your Name: Katawaredoki (in which I am forcibly thrown heart first into the bedroom of my second apartment at approximately 12-something A.M.) 

Digimon Adventure 01: Butterfly (MASSIVE 90′s childhood anime feels, and also Last Summer Before Everything Went to Shit feels (on a general scale I mean, not personal)) 

Pokémon: Lugia’s Song multitrack cover by Jordan Moore (would that I could have a talent of that musical talent) 

Pokémon the First Movie: Tears of Life (great now I’m on a Pokémon music spiral GUESS IT’S CHILDHOOD NOSTALGIA HOURS NOW) 

PMD: Blue Rescue Team - Farewell and Run Away/Fugitives (you CANNOT make me choose between these guys okay, my brain WILL explode, and whoops now I want to link the whole ost) 

Palette by A Dear Friend (wink wonk) 

Pokémon: Alpha Sapphire - Fortree City (wow talk about mood whiplash)

Detective Conan: Main Theme (I can’t find the specific version since there are so many, but it’s a Good Theme) 

Super Smash Bros.: Brawl - Opening Theme 

Pokémon Colosseum - Relic Forest 

Song for Lindsay by Andrew Boysen Jr. (oh great now it’s time for marching band feelings I guess)

Mt. Everest by Rossano Galante 

Deltarune - Field of Hopes and Dreams and A Town Called Hometown (orchestrated) (aka the Lots of Work To Do song) and You Can Always Come Home and Don’t Forget (hey guess what I wrote a bunch of fake extra verses for) (also it looks my pathetic attempts at narrowing things down are getting even more pathetic so I’ll wrap up soon XD) 

 Guild Wars 2 - Fear Not This Night (never actually played this myself but my friend got me addicted to the music) 

Lord of the Rings - May It Be (Enya) (aaaand now I miss choir, THANKS BUBBLES) 

Lion King - Can You Feel the Love Tonight (Multilingual) by Travys Kim (aka how I remembered how fun these things are) 

Original Song by Anonymous  

(The urge to add all the other songs I’m not adding is so strong but I’ve got so much work to do so just assume I mean all Nintendo music from any game I’ve played, all Ghibli movie music, every musical I’ve ever heard, and even more) 

Random fact:

Apparently as early as the 17th century, you could guess that a child would have a shortened life span if their foreheads tasted salty. Yes, there is a specific reason, and yes, you may already know what it is, and thankfully no, that life span projection no longer holds true, assuming access to Modern Medicine! 

Favourite Authors: Okay I have not read enough various books of enough various authors to be able to answer this, so I’m just gonna go with a few books instead. They are not necessarily all-time favorites, but I enjoyed reading them very much at the time and more often than not go back to them for comfort reads: The Martian, any of first three Harry Potter books, and The Rise of Kiyoshi. (That last one’s not really a comfort read but I am drowning in Loving Kiyoshi juice so here we are)

Favourite Animal Noises: Certain kinds of birds (UNLESS it’s some ungodly hour of the morning and you’re trying to sleep)? Ooh, and crickets! 

Aesthetic: A slob, but like...a comfy slob. An incredibly disorganized hermit who is happy to mill about in the uncontrolled entropy. (Are we talking about what aesthetic I give off, or what I like to look at, visually? Because I like space, and water, and mountains, and forests, and forests ON mountains, OOH and forests on mountains at night where you can see space, perhaps reflected in a body of water. Or just water, idk. Different things are pretty to look at at different times)

WELL THAT ONLY TOOK FOREVER SORRY FOR THE OBSCENE LENGTH 

@pachelbelsheadcanon @averybritishbumblebee @shingeki-no-korra @sailorlock @yeswevegotavideo @soultheta @queenerdloser @ifeelbetterer @rogueofdragons @peppervl @amadness2method @mutalune and anybody else who wants to do this! This isn’t seventeen, and I don’t know if any of you have already done it/been tagged, but I hear people moving around upstairs so that means this break is over XD. And ABSOLUTELY no pressure to actually do this, this is pretty much just me wishing you well! (and YOU of course, my dear reader! I hope everything’s going all right, or if it’s not, that it does soon)

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

psst,, lia,, if you're still in the mood and not too busy yelling at nerd to sleep (which, go to bed madam you need sleep) then can I request some snipes on all the other lovely anons here? nervous, whoops, soulmate, Skull(you MUST mention how beautiful they are if you do the snipes), CC, blue heart, amazing,, feel like I'm forgetting someone. If I am and you remember who it is then include them too ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ you can put 'em all together in one big post since you can't tag 'em

I have so many anons,,,,,, wrists don’t fail me now

I (sadly) do not know many of you well enough to do full snipes but I can certainly put together some paragraphs (and if I miss someone PLS let me know and I’ll give them a paragraph too- my memory’s crap but they are NOT)

Alright let’s go:

Nervous anon! Your anon name is such a mood man. And you gave me snow which was super nice. You also have a kitti!!! Good kitti!! And I know you draw and even tho I’ve never seen any of your art I just KNOW it’s AMAZING

Whoops anon! You didn’t even mean to be whoops! But I still quite like the name so live with it :3 You code!!!!! Which is amazing!!! And I love it!!! Even if we haven’t had a chance to chat too much about it!!

Soulmate anon! You have an amazing fic!!! I love reading it!! I still adore that you dedicated it to me (amongst others, of course)!! Your art’s also awesome- I love the lil pastel!Remy you sent in yesterday!!!

Skull anon! You’re beautiful and amazing!! I first knew you from seeing you talk with Blink and honestly you’ve always been super chill. You have so many random tidbits of your life to share with me and I love them all!!

C.C.! We don’t talk to much but I do know you from Roses! The conversations you overhear are lowkey hilarious(ly worrying /j), and you seem to be a really funny, great person!! An amazing nibbling for an amazing Aunt Roses!!

Blue heart anon! You encourage me to talk about things!! Aka you fuel my incessant Remy talking (including LAMPS- I remember that bullet fic request. I loved writing it) and you are, to be completely honest, an absolute cutie

Amazing anon! You’re new but still incredibly awesome!! I already love talking to you and you’re preparing to murder me with pastel!skirt-wearing!Remy so like how can I not love you???

Hewwo anon! I know I haven’t seen you in a while but I still love you!! You mostly just asked for fic recs but our bits of chatting still mean a lot to me, and if you’re out there, I’d love to have you darken my inbox again

Triple kiss anon! You know you weren’t escaping this. You are my mainest anon and you are an absolute PLEASURE to have here!! You’re super nice and fun to talk to, and are very talented in writing!! You’re AMAZING and just Go You!!

Alright I’m certain I forgot people- if I forgot an anon BLS tell me, it’s not a slight against them, I’m just a Forgetful Shit. But my classic tl;dr!!

To EVERY anon- I LOVE talking to you guys a LOT; you brighten my day when I’m down and lonely, the fact that you want to chill around here means a lot to me. I love y’all so, so much

[werkwerkelizaaa]

Empire, part 2

Forgot to tag, whoops— @funnyihope @newsiepedia

•••

She told herself it was better that way, that he was more trouble than he was worth.

They seemed to know instinctively how to push each other's buttons, and in all honesty she grew to realize it was a lot less complicated to have an ally in Manhattan who had no ulterior motives, romantic or otherwise.

Spot wouldn't say she was proud of her behavior, but she came through in the end, and that's what matters, right?

Maybe they could never be back to the way they were, but they didn't have to be. Some things were better left in the past.

•••

Spot swung her legs out in front of her. "I've always respected you."

Race raised his eyebrows once he realized she wasn't joking. "Why?"

Spot grinned and elbowed him. "You walked over here armed with nothing but an old pape that had 'I can do what I want' scribbled across it and a smile. That was pretty gutsy."

Race chuckled and elbowed her back. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

Spot shook her head. "Not exactly what I was thinking, but sure." She grabbed a small pebble and threw it off the edge.

"Jack trusts you." It was more of a statement than a question.

Race bit down on his cigar. "A horrible decision really, but yes."

Spot did her best to not seem too eager. "Maybe we could meet somewhere closer to you and yours next time?"

"Why would... you have your eye on someone else, don't you?" Race grinned and threw his arms around Spot.

"You saw something you liked at the rally! Striped Cucumber has a crush!"

Spot pried his arms off of her and pouted. "You're supposed to be the stupid one!"

"Who is it?" Race poked her bicep repeatedly. "Come on, give me a hint. Is it Finch?"

Spot crossed her arms and exhaled loudly. "...It's not Jack."

Race frowned and poked her again. "Well duh!"

Spot smirked and leaned against Race. "Also, it's not Les."

Race pouted and tapped the top of her head. "Don't do me like that, Spotty boi."

Spot elbowed him. "That was two hints. You're on your own now."

Race leaned back and put his hands on Spot's shoulders. "It's Albert, isn't it."

Spot glared at him. "Go suck on an egg."

Race let out an overdramatic gasp. "I have no idea what that means, and yet I'm still offended."

Spot rolled her eyes and gestured incredulously. "It means I don't have time for this!"

•••

Race continued to pester her by singing love ballads under his breath in some other language whenever he got the chance.

Spot put up with it. She wasn't going to begrudge Race for being who he was. It was the least she could do; returning the favor, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

*Timeskip of indeterminable origin*

Spot was starting to wonder if the real reason Race spent so much time out of Manhattan was because Kack Jelly and the Pretty Paperboys needed a break from him. That is, if you ignored the fact that they were all equally annoying.

Myron had told her he caught Race sweet talking the horses down at the racetracks one time, but she wasn't sure she wanted to think about that too much.

Even though "don't beat Racetrack up period" was her own rule, that didn't mean he was exempt from a slap upside the head every now and then, though.

Spot snuck up on Race while he was in the middle of revising her list of rules and did just that. "Stop touching my things!"

Race dropped his pencil, jumped about a foot in the air, turned to face Spot, and waggled his eyebrows at her.

Spot facepalmed and pushed past him. "...That's NOT a euphemism!"

She pointed at the vandalized paper with a little more force than necessary. "Did you really have to draw that... that monster thing in the corner?"

Race scoffed and crossed his arms, shoe scuffing the ground. "That is a dinosaur, you uncultured dwarf."

~~~

"What do you think you're doing?" Hot Shot's hands clamped down squarely on Graves's shoulders.

Graves jumped and let out a squeak of surprise. "Nothing!"

Hot Shot raised an eyebrow at him.

Graves sighed resignedly. "Okay fine, I'm trying to get that girl's attention." He motioned across the street at a young lady selling flowers out of a cart.

Hot Shot looked back and forth between the girl and Graves. He snorted in amusement. "...By staring at her?"

Graves smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Aren't they supposed to know you like them if you stare long enough because psychic... psychicics?"

Hot Shot furrowed his brows and shifted his weight. "Where did you hear that?"

Graves blinked blankly and resumed staring at the girl across the street, not even bothering with the shrug.

Hot Shot shook his head and patted Graves on the shoulder. "Look, just go up to her, lean against something so you look cool, and compliment her."

He gestured to himself. "Here, try me."

Graves turned and rocked back and forth on his heels, looking Hot Shot up and down appraisingly.

"Uh. Your skin does a fantastic job of holding all your organs in!"

Hot Shot took his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe something a little less morbid."

"Okay." Graves swallowed thickly and drew himself up to his full height. "If I die, tell Spot I love him."

Hot Shot smiled reassuringly and clapped him on the back. "I'm sure he knows."

Graves took a deep breath and started striding across the street before tripping over what seemed to be nothing and falling on his knees. He jumped up and quickly dusted himself off, face turning as red as the flowers the girl was selling.

Graves leaned against the flower cart and smiled nervously, resisting the urge to start fiddling with his hands.

"Hello! I just had to come over here because your shine, I mean, the sun on you—"

Hot Shot facepalmed.

The girl tucked a limp strand of sand-colored hair back into her ponytail and cocked her head. "I'm sorry, come again?"

Graves exhaled and leaned back a little further. "Your skin is glistening like a diamond in the sun."

The girl raised an eyebrow and grinned, wiping the sweat off her brow with a handkerchief. "Thanks,

you're not too bad looking yourself."

Graves glanced over at Hot Shot, who motioned at him to keep going, then back at her. "I didn't catch your name—"

The girl interrupted him with a horrified gasp, eyes as wide as dinner plates. The cart Graves was leaning against– her flower cart, in fact– started rolling under his weight, startling and almost hitting a few pedestrians as it careened down the street.

Graves turned and muttered a word under his breath that is not polite to use in the presence of a lady.

He stared blankly for a few seconds before snapping out of it and running after the cart. "Why did we have to be on a hill?!"

The girl let out an annoyed huff and did her best to keep up with him, gathering her skirts in her hands. "I can't believe this is happening again."

Hot Shot shook his head and ran after them, quickly passing the girl and maintaining about a couple yards' distance behind Graves. "After that cart!"

Graves skidded to a stop as he recognized his beloved borough leader sitting on the docks. He completely forgot what he was doing and waved excitedly, grinning. "Hi, Spot!"

Spot squinted, apparently at a loss for words.

Hot Shot groaned and grabbed the back of Graves's undershirt as he ran past, dragging him along.

"We don't have time for this." He muttered under his breath.

Graves kept waving even as he was being pulled.

"Bye, Spot!"

He shook off Hot Shot's hand and started running on his own two legs again. "There's always time for Spot!"

Hot Shot reached out and grabbed the cart by the handles, yelping at the sudden heat created by the friction.

Graves threw his arms around Hot Shot's waist and dug his heels into the ground, slowing them to a stop. "Well, that was fun. Let's do it again never."

The girl finally caught up to them, broken flower stems gathered in her arms. "Maggie."

Graves let go of Hot Shot and spun around to face the girl, red faced and panting. "What?"

'Maggie' gave herself and then a moment to catch their breaths before replying. "That's my name."

Graves flashed her a brilliant smile. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

He looked around, taking notice of the mess they had left in their wake. "I'll buy anything off of you that's unsellable."

Maggie shook her head vehemently, face reddening. "Oh, you don't have to–"

Graves put a hand up to stop her. "Please, it's the least I can do."

~~~

Myron grabbed Spot's arm as soon as she walked in the door.

"Spot, tell Hot Shot cologne is NOT an acceptable substitute for bathing!" He said through gritted teeth.

Spot blinked and shoved her hands into her pockets. "Cologne is not an acceptable substitute for bathing."

Myron gestured at her as if to say 'see?' and looked at Hot Shot pointedly. "Thank you!"

Hot Shot shook his head and put his hands up defensively. "I'm just saying though, if your only two choices were either nothing at all, or dousing yourself in—"

Spot scratched the back of her head. "How would you even end up in this situation?"

Hot Shot shrugged. "I dunno, but it could happen!"

Race had his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. His brows furrowed in concentration as he shuffled the deck and showed Graves, Towers, and Bart the top card. "Is this your card?"

Towers shook his head. "No."

"Huh." Race frowned and pulled the next card out. "Is this your card?"

Towers leaned forward and squinted, then sat back and shook his head again. "No."

Race let out a huff of annoyance and went to the next card in the deck. "Is this your card?"

Towers sighed and propped his head up against his fist. "Nope."

Race frustratedly started pulling out cards at random. "Is THIS your card? Is THIS your card? Is—"

Towers' shoulders slumped. "No, nope, n–"

"Yes." Bart interrupted before this could go any further.

Race grinned and pumped his fist into the air. "First try!"

Towers rolled his eyes, but didn't comment.

Graves cocked his head at Race. "Is that your real voice?"

Race's eyebrows quirked. "No, I just talk and look like this on purpose to make everybody question their sexuality!"

Graves and Towers looked at each other and shrugged.

Race crossed his arms and leaned back. "Yes, this is my real voice. It's not the one I would've chosen, but it's the one I got."

He reshuffled the deck and started murmuring to himself under his breath.

Towers shook his head and elbowed Graves, mouthing 'rude' at him.

Graves elbowed him back and whispered, "I was just asking!"

[pokii-jonas]

Purrfectly Virgil : Christmas Day (Part 2)

AO3

Previous          Next

WARNINGS: sympathetic deceit, feelings of abandonment, very light swearing, feelings of being undeserving

---

It had been so long since they had sat like this. They used to be like this all the time. Virgil purring happily while Deceit scratched him behind the ears just the way he liked it.

When Deceit first was awakened by Virgil, she almost forgot that it was no longer normal for them. She almost slipped right back into her old routine.

But she realized and, at first didn’t let herself. She instead made herself react to the touch and ask Virgil what he was doing. She even nearly spoke the truth. Something she only did around Virgil in the past.

When she said that, she could see Virgil stiffen and back away as he was brought back to reality.

It was when Virgil had sat on the bean bag and put his hood up that it finally clicked in Deceit’s head that he was upset. That’s the only reason he’d be there.

Despite the cold of her room, she felt herself sitting up and getting out of bed. Making her way over to Virgil, she dropped down to her knees and pulled down his hood.

“Don’t do that. I know that hurts your ears.” she said softly, speaking the truth.

She started to gently rub her ears and laughed when Virgil flushed a deep red as he released a little purr.

Standing up, she made her way back to her bed and crawled back under her heated blanket, enjoying the warmth it brought her.

“Ah, you haven’t changed.” she mumbled to herself smiling.

After she was situated in her blankets, she looked back up to see Virgil still sitting in the bean bag and starting to curl up on himself.

Giving a small sigh, she pat her lap and gave him a comforting smile when he looked up.

The small smile he had as he stood up and walked over filled Deceit with a happiness she had almost forgotten.

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she looked down at the little puff ball, once known only as anxiety, that was currently curled up on her lap purring happily.

However, despite her happiness that Virgil was back and not acting like she was completely evil, she was worried.

As the embodiment of lying, she knew when a side was hiding something or trying to ignore something, and Virgil was definitely not just stopping by for a visit.

Something was wrong.

She felt herself hesitate as she opened her mouth to ask. Did it matter? All she’s wanted for over a year was for Virgil to come back.

All she wanted was her friend back.

However, she couldn’t ignore her friend in pain. She had to say something.

“What happened Virge?” she asked quietly, still scratching him behind his ears.

She felt his body stiffen for a moment before he relaxed again and curled his knees closer to his chest.

“They don’t want me.” he whispered quietly, moving his body closer to Deceit’s.

She looked down curiously at Virgil and noted how his eyes became a bit glassy.

“What do you mean, puffball?”

Virgil gave a small chuckle at the pet name.

“Its been awhile since I’ve heard that one.”

Deceit gave a small frown.

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

Virgil’s face fell and he looked down at his hands.

“It’s Christmas Day.” he said, drawing his sleeves over his hands.

Deceit felt her eyes widen as she realized it was indeed December 25th. How in the world did she miss that?

Deceit waited patiently for Virgil to continue, still scratching behind his ears and running her hands through his hair.

Taking a deep breath, Virgil finally continued.

“Patton… he usually wakes me up, ya know? It’s one of the few days of the year in which I let them.”

Deceit gave a small laugh at the hypocrisy of his statement. Deceit was almost never allowed to wake up Virgil without suffering to some degree, but Virgil would wake him up whenever he wanted.

“But no one woke me up today. It’s already past two. There’s no way that they just forgot it was Christmas or something.” he finished sadly, curling up even more.

Deceit frowned.

“So you came to the conclusion… that they don’t want you?” Deceit asked softly, hiding the laughter that threatened to spill out. Of course Virgil would come to the worst conclusion possible like that.

Virgil simply gave a small nod and Deceit let out a small laugh.

“Virge, I’m almost positive that you misinterpreted the problem.” She said, brushing Virgil’s hair out of his face.

“Really?” Virgil asked quietly as he moved his head slightly to look at Deceit.

“Of course, puffball.” she said with a smile. “They like you. There’s no way that they would just up and ditch you.”

The smile on her face remained the same and her words held no trace of her distaste for the other sides. However, at the back of her mind, all she could do was be angry.

First, they take Virgil and try to make him someone he’s not. Then they go and do stupid shit like this that makes him freak out?

She might need to have a talk with them later.

Virgil gave her a slight nod and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Why are you sticking up for them anyway?” Virgil asked, glancing at Deceit. “I know you don’t like them.”

Deceit gave a sigh and brought her heated blanket up to her shoulders, shivering a bit.

“They don’t like me and I don’t like them, okay? But… I know that they care about you. There’s no way they would just leave you like that.” she gave Virgil a warm smile. “And even though I’d love to believe you visited me just because, I could tell you were upset.” she said, looking down at her blanket.

Virgil sat there for a moment before standing up and walking over to the bean bag. Picking up the present, he walked back over to the bed and held it in front of Deceit.

“I guess you’re right, but I also wanted to give you this.” he said, shifting around a bit and looking at the floor.

Deceit looked at the present and then back to Virgil as she took the present from his hands and held it in her own.

“I-I didn’t get you anything this year though. I actually didn’t realize it was Christmas until you said it.” she mumbled, fidgeting with the name tag a bit.

Virgil smiled and gave a small shrug.

“It’s fine. You’ve already given me enough.” he said, leaning forward and wrapping Deceit in a hug.

She froze for a second before dropping the present and hugging back.

They stayed like that for a minute before Deceit pulled back and slapped his arm.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough. Don’t you have some friends to get answers from?” she asked playfully as she leaned back in bed.

Virgil’s eyes went wide and he quickly began to stutter out, “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying here-” only to be cut off by a pillow being thrown at his face.

“Go.” she said laughing. “Before I go myself, which we both know won’t be pretty.”

Virgil sighed with a small shrug.

“Solid point, I guess.” he said, tucking his tail into his jeans and pulling his hoodie over his ears.

Deceit frowned at these actions but didn’t mention it.

For now.

“Merry Christmas, Dee. I’ll see you later?” he said.

Deceit gave a small nod and smiled.

“You better. Merry Christmas.”

He gave one last smile before disappearing and leaving Deceit alone once again.

She looked down at the present and picked it up, examining the wrapping.

Perfect. As usual. How someone with such shaky hands could wrap presents so nicely? She could never really say.

Tearing into the wrapping paper with as much ferocity as she could muster, she quickly opened the box and picked up the little note inside that read: ‘dear dee, merry christmas, i guess? i know things have been a bit rocky between us recently but i figured you might like this? it seemed like something you would enjoy. i promise we’ll hang out soon, kay? ~Virgil’

Deceit smiled at the note as she set it down. Reaching her hand back in the box, she felt her hand brush something silky and soft.

Pulling it out, she let out a small gasp.

In her hands was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

It was a spaghetti strap dress with a black colored bodice. The skirt part of it was layered black and yellow chiffon cut asymmetrically that made it flow easily.

It seemed to be made to go perfectly with her cape and hat.

Despite the coldness of her room, she decided to brace the cold to try it on.

However, as she stood up the box tilted over and a pair of black heeled shoes with snakeskin print straps fell out.

Picking them up, she felt a small tear slip its way from her eye.

Virgil wasn’t any different than how he’d always been. He was still the same, sweet, caring guy that always seemed to know exactly what to do.

He cared about her, more than she ever cared for herself, and she couldn’t stop the tears from pouring from her eyes.

There was no way she deserved this kindness.

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*cough cough*

so... Dee, ami right?

... everything i write turns into deceit angst. i dont know how or why, but i apparently excel in making my cute snek suffer :/

next part (and probably last part of christmas day!) will be focused on vigil and i guess you'll find out what the others are up to! :D

i hope you guys enjoyed the kinda deceit pov i did! it made more sense to see it from her eyes that virgil's for this specific chapter and it may happen again in the future with other characters BUT I SWEAR THAT THIS WILL MOSTLY BE VIRGIL POV!!! ;p

anyway, next part up in a few days!!! (i still need to update my other fic, Accepting Deceit, so... whoops...)