#(( Also a full bath once a week was the norm at the time! ))

[ask-undertaker]

Undertaker, when was the last time you’ve taken a shower?

LIKE THE VERY LAST TIME

"...You lot think I'm a very stinky boy, don't you? Eh! Well I'll tell you I'm certainly not! I had a bath just last week, mind you! A nice one! There were even bubbles involved! And I might just have another one too!"

"... Oooor maybe it's because you all want to see my hair freshly washed again, isn't it? Hmmm~?"

[writertitan]

Confinements - Pt. 3

pairing: soldier!levi x f!medic!reader

themes: war themes + war crimes, enemies to lovers, mature and heavy content (minors dni), medic!reader, reader is a tough cookie due to wartimes, levi is a prisoner of war, reader and levi are snarky lil fellas, afab reader, swearing, heavy themes regarding acts of war, mentions of death, dark content, finding warmth in each other during cruel and cold-blooded times, unconditioning of propaganda, slight mentions of torture tactics/aggressive interrogations, reader finally breaking out of survival mode in this chap

chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 updated weekly chapter word count: 3.2k a/n: hello sweet cherubs and welcome to pt. 3! if you haven’t read the first two parts, they are linked above in the chapters section. have a wonderful start to the week, and please enjoy. :) 

It was another two days before you saw Captain Levi again. 

A new hoard of wounded soldiers had been brought in and many needed complex surgery, to which you assisted. Even in the thick of the hardest one, your mind kept pulling you away to a certain captain hidden away beneath your feet, which was dangerous. You could never lose focus, not even for a moment, during such difficult medical procedures. 

There were rumors going around that the enemy was planning a blitz attack, though you were a little amused that they could even call it a blitz if people suspected it was coming. Because of that, however, the general was ordering for more ruthless attacks from some squads, resulting in many more casualties than your team could take on. 

But, as always, you made do and powered through, and in those two days you accomplished nearly all of the most serious cases that were brought to you. 

You were exhausted, to say the least, and all you wanted was to slump into your comfy chair at your dwelling and fall asleep listening to the pitter-patter of rain outside, maybe a crackling fire going in the fireplace. Once you’d gotten cleaned up from your final surgery, that was the plan, but of course, Dr. Muller had other plans. 

He was waiting for you outside the women’s washroom, his face apologetic - an expression you’d gotten used to from him as of recently. 

“What is it?” you asked, suddenly a little more alert and a little less lethargic. “Did more come in?” 

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. Then, he lowered his voice to a whisper, making sure nobody else could hear though it was basically only the two of you. “I need you to go check on the captain. Just a quick visit, then you’re free to take off. I won’t call you in for the next couple of days unless it’s urgent. We need the rest.” 

At the mention of the captain, you felt yourself grow groggy again. Still, it was an improvement that you weren’t feeling totally annoyed, and you nodded along to the doctor’s request with a small sigh and a wave of your own hand. 

“Sure, I’ll do it now,” you muttered, then waited for the doctor to disappear out of sight before sliding down the wall and resting your head back against it. 

The night of the “bath incident” - as you liked to call it - had brought forth a lot of unusual feelings and behaviors from you. While it was true that you’d fetched some clean clothes for the captain and that had been out of the norm for you, you’d also mentally made a promise to yourself to remember to bring him some decent food as well. 

There was really no logic to this sudden change of yours. Since when did you care so much about a patient, much less a prisoner of war that didn’t seem to be keen on you? 

You tried to get your bearings sitting on the floor like that for a solid minute before eventually groaning and standing up, doing your best to ignore the full body aches as you snuck your way into the kitchen. 

It was evening and supper had already been served out, so most of the staff were busy cleaning up. One of them, a young girl named Vel, noticed you come in. If anyone else did, they didn’t show it. 

She greeted you meekly, her big, round eyes trained on you as you stopped in your tracks. 

“Need something to eat?” she asked, tilting her head. “I heard about the work you and Dr. Muller have been doing these past couple of days. Doesn’t sound like you’ve been able to take a break at all, or even eat. Wait right there.” 

Though she had made a demand of you to wait, the demand, like Vel herself, was very meek. Still, you did as you were told, grateful for her generosity and for her exceptional observation. You could definitely sneak off with the food and give it to Captain Levi instead, and it wouldn’t look suspicious at all. 

Vel took her time filling up a tray for you but you didn’t mind the few minutes to yourself. 

“Here,” she whispered, offering up the small tray. 

Steamed vegetables, hot porridge, and buttered bread greeted you from the tray, alongside a small jug of water. It normally wouldn’t look like much for the average person, but for a person entrenched in war, it was a king’s feast. More importantly, none of the food was rotten or moldy. 

Relief and gratitude poured out of you and the quiet, “Thank you,” that you managed to get out dripped with the emotions and made Vel smile a little. 

“Eat up,” she instructed, then was off again to get back to whatever she’d been doing before. 

You hurried off and waited until the coast was clear before sneaking into the cellar, making the now familiar trek to the room Captain Levi occupied. 

You couldn’t lie and say that the food in front of you didn’t make your mouth water. Vel had guessed correctly - it had been days since you had had a real meal. The last thing you could remember eating was a handful of stale raisins aside from your mandatory hydration times during operations. Still, you did your best to ignore the food, wanting to save it for the captain, who no doubt hadn’t had real food for a very long time. Much longer than a measly two days. 

When you entered his room, it was eerily quiet. He lay there, motionless but rigid, clearly in pain. You briefly noted that he was no longer wearing his grimy uniform and had donned the clean clothes you’d left for him. However, he barely acknowledged that you’d come in, didn’t even open his eyes, and only did when you called to him. 

“Captain Levi?” 

His eyes snapped open and he turned his head to look at you, and then his gaze focused on the tray you held, grey eyes showcasing a hunger you’d never seen from him before. The black bruises that had adorned his eyes were nearly completely gone, replaced with dark circles due to restlessness. 

“I noticed last time I was here you weren’t being properly fed,” you explained, trying your very best not to stutter through your words. “I thought I’d bring you some actual food for once.” 

You made your way over to his bed and watched him wince as he sat up, but he at least looked eager for food. You set the tray down closer to him on the bed, a silent gesture for him to help himself. 

“Who brings your meals normally?” you asked him as he tore into the buttered bread. You couldn’t imagine that it would be anyone in the kitchen staff. With how much of a secret the captain’s capture was, you doubted the general was allowing anyone except a select few to come through here. 

Captain Levi didn’t answer for a few moments, more focused on devouring the bread, but eventually he found his voice. 

“That stupidly annoying nurse slides a tray of food in here once a day. Food, if you can even call it that,” he scoffed. Then, as if it was nothing, he added, “She hasn’t been here for two days.” 

That made you freeze. 

So, not only was he only being fed barely edible food only once a day, but he also hadn’t even been fed at all the past two days. 

“That’s unacceptable,” you choked out, in mild disbelief. Yes, Nurse Gatha had been quite busy herself with all the incoming soldiers, but that was no excuse. She wasn’t in the high trauma group and you knew for a fact she’d had plenty of breaks, unlike your group. “I’m so sorry, Captain Levi. We’ve all been running around the past couple of days due to an influx of patients, but she should have made the time to come down here.” 

A fleeting reminder that that influx was due to the captain’s own soldiers attacking yours flitted through your head, but you quickly shook it away. He’d had nothing to do with it, so it would be unfair to blame him. 

“She’s annoying anyway. I hate that she’s even around me for any amount of time at all. I’d rather starve,” he said, voice dull. Then, in a much quieter and calmer voice, he continued with, “I’d much rather have you do it. You’re much less irritating.” 

The admission left you stunned. 

Captain Levi shifted uncomfortably, his eyes pointedly avoiding yours as he said, “And thank you for the clean clothes. Even though they’re colors I’d rather not wear.” 

It clearly made him uncomfortable to express gratitude, or any sort of emotion at all, but you were secretly pleased that he would bear it just to tell you something so simple. 

“You’re welcome,” you said with a smile. 

It was then that your body betrayed you and a grumble sounded from your stomach. Instantly, you felt your face grow hot. It was loud enough for Captain Levi to hear it as well, which was mortifying.

“You said it’s been busy the past couple of days. Have you eaten?” he asked. He looked genuinely concerned. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you said dismissively, your gaze avoiding his. In truth, you were definitely hungry, but that was something you could rectify later on when you were in the privacy of your little living space. 

Still, Captain Levi scoffed and pushed the tray back towards you. 

“Don’t let yourself starve,” he said gruffly. “Isn’t that medically frowned upon, Doc?”

You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but the captain wouldn’t let you and handed over the bowl of steamed vegetables. The smell was truly delicious, especially for someone who hadn’t eaten, but you still couldn’t bear the thought of sharing even a morsel.

“I’ve had something to eat. You haven’t,” you said firmly, pushing it back to him. He didn’t have to know that your “something to eat” had hardly counted as real food. 

Captain Levi looked ready to keep fighting you on this but when his stomach growled, the argument was over. He begrudgingly grabbed a fork and ate up the vegetables, though he seemed to genuinely be grateful. 

It was strange to see him sitting there, wearing your country’s uniform as if he were one of your own soldiers. He could have maybe passed for one, but you doubted it. There was something about his demeanor and the way he presented himself that gave him away. He didn’t belong in a place like this. He was resolute, confident, a little blunt, and just different from the other men here. No, he didn’t didn’t belong here. 

Did you, though? 

“How are your pain levels? Anything in particular I should look at today?” you asked, letting him swallow before answering. 

“Ribs are still bothering me but that’s it. Everything else is bearable. Should be able to release me any day now, Doc.” The last part was said a little condescendingly. You definitely felt yourself bristle. 

“I’m not a doctor and I’ve never appreciated that nickname,” you huffed, turning back to the kit you’d almost forgotten about. You’d taken to leaving it in the cellar these days, tucked away, and had hauled it in while carefully balancing the tray with one hand. 

“You’ve never told me your real name, so I don’t have anything else to call you,” Captain Levi pointed out. 

That surprised you. Had you really never told him your name? 

You blurted it out as a very belated introduction, a little embarrassed that you’d never done it the other times you’d come to tend to him, but Captain Levi didn’t seem too miffed. 

“I think I’ll still call you Doc, but it’s nice to meet you,” he said, then added, with a smirk twitching at his lips, “I’m Levi.” 

“Nice to meet, Captain Levi,” you snorted, but then you grew quiet when the captain shook his head and gave you a look you couldn’t quite discern. 

“Just Levi is fine.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, “Levi.” 

Some sort of wall between the two of you broke then. When getting rid of titles like that, a wall always tends to break between two people. There was less formality and more camaraderie. Maybe even friendship. 

You let Levi finish eating before getting to work. He unbuttoned his shirt and let you inspect his aching ribs, and that’s when you realized that he’d gotten thinner. He seemed naturally slim but when you’d first seen him he was sturdy and clearly held a lot of strength. Looking at him now, you could see he was weakening. Some ribs even slightly poked through his bruised skin. Something heavy stirred in your chest at the sight. 

Still, despite his complaints of pain, you were sure everything was healing nicely. The bruising on his chest concerned you, because they didn’t look as faded as you wanted them to, but rib injuries were tough to heal if the patient wasn’t careful. The bruise you’d been worried about on his abdomen seemed to be fading the way you expected, though, alleviating your concerns of something internal at play. The ankle was no longer swollen, just tender per Levi’s assessment, so you were confident that just a little more food and some proper rest would get him healing faster. 

As you worked to put a salve on his ankle, you were so concentrated on that that his voice startled you.

“Why did you choose to become a medic?” he asked suddenly. 

The question came as a surprise. You didn’t even really know how to answer it. For a moment, you thought hard on the story you were willing to tell. 

“The medical field has always interested me,” you started hesitantly, unsure of how much you should divulge. But then, when you saw those genuinely curious steel-colored eyes, you continued, voice a little softer. “I had a brother who enlisted as a soldier and he died. When we were told of his death, the captain of his squad alluded to my brother being unsalvageable. I don’t know why that hit me so hard. I hate the thought of me, as a medic, not doing everything in my power to save someone’s life. I already had a bit of experience and enlisted as a volunteer and here I am. Once I learned the circumstances of my brother’s death rather than getting a polite and vague answer on my doorstep, I was a little more understanding - he was apparently blown to bits and all. But it still bothers me to think he was left out to die. If someone like me had been around to try and help, maybe he would be back home.” 

Levi’s face was uncharacteristically soft as you finished speaking. 

“I’m sorry about your brother,” he said finally, and you shrugged it off. It was during times of recalling your brother that you could feel the cracks in your icy exterior, and the cracks in your heart. 

You gave Levi a small smile, noticing a look akin to that of confusion as you placed bandages over his ankle, mostly to let the salve stay and absorb into his skin better. Even so, you didn’t probe him. 

After finishing up with this ankle, you moved to the part that would be more uncomfortable for Levi - his ribs.

You had some numbing cream handy that you felt might work to relieve some of his discomfort. Taking it from your medical kit, you dabbed your fingertips with it and began gingerly rubbing it onto his chest and sides. You could feel him wince under your touch. 

“You should be more careful,” you quietly scolded. “I don’t know what you’re doing in here when I’m not around, but it’s certainly not helping your healing process. These ribs are taking longer than I’d like to heal.” 

Levi scoffed then, his entire body rigid suddenly.

“Tell that to your scumbag general,” he snapped, eyes hard as he looked at you. “He’s the one throwing me around.” 

It was as if someone had dumped ice cold water on your body. 

“The general is…being violent with you?” you asked, throat dry as the question left your mouth. 

Levi seemed surprised at your reaction. 

“Yes? During his interrogations.” He spoke slowly, a bit confused, but your initial shock was giving way to extreme anger. 

You had no idea. Sure, you were vaguely aware and understanding that with being a prisoner of war came the expectation of interrogations for information, but for some reason, you hadn’t expected to hear this from Levi. Was he being tortured for information? Was the general’s tactic to rough him up and beat the information out of him? 

All the other comments from Levi were weighing on you again. The fact that he was being treated like a feral animal was glaringly obvious all of a sudden. And that sinking feeling that something wasn’t right hadn’t wavered these last few days. 

Day by day, you’d started to accept your belief that this war was…odd. That your country was somehow not doing things right. That you were being lied to. 

“I didn’t know that you were being…,” you trailed off, unsure of what to even say. 

“Doc…how did you say your brother died again?”

The question seemed out of place but you answered anyway. 

“Some of your soldiers managed to get onto our territory and my brother and his squad caught them. This happened at a front line encampment that used to exist a few miles from here. Your soldiers planted landmines and threw grenades at my brother and his squad in order to herd them to the mines. They fell for it and got caught up in all the blasts. There were just…pieces of him left,” you said absently. You weren’t looking at Levi, but more like looking through him. 

Levi scowled at your answer, looking troubled. It was silent between you as he clearly was trying to put together what to say. When he did, you felt that icy wave wash over you once more. 

“We don’t do blitz strikes like that. And we don’t really use landmines. That’s a resource that your country has, not us.” 

He looked like he had more to say, but it was obvious that you were slowly breaking down. That coldness inside you, that emptiness, that disconnect you’d built up…it was all suddenly fragile and about to tumble down. Levi had, somehow, in such a short span of time, shown you how you’d basically been sleepwalking through your life these last few years. Levi had blitzed you, made you step on some sort of mental landmine you’d been sidestepping all this time. Things were blowing up in front of you, metaphorically speaking. 

“What are you trying to say?” you asked, tears pricking at your eyes. When was the last time you’d cried, or had even come close to it?

“There’s a lot you don’t know. I don’t know if you’ll believe me,” Levi sighed. 

But you already knew you would believe him, and you had an inkling of what he was about to say. He was about to prove your suspicions correct. 

A heavy silence fell over you but it didn’t last long. As you stared at each other, you with desperate and wild eyes and Levi with solemn and knowing ones, the bomb sirens started wailing. 

____________________________

read pt. 4 here

[the-only-ace]

Hey I know you are really busy with all the request and job and all that but can you do shinee's reaction to s/o stealing their t-shirts and hoodies?? You can make them one shots of you want too😁

shinee reacts: their s/o wearing their clothes

heyyy~ i really liked this request because i personally love to do this. for this request, i want to try something new since you gave me an idea with the one-shots part. so instead of describing their reactions, i'll convey it in a form of a short story. it will still be per member! i hope you will like this one (heads up though, the posts is a bit longer than my usual shinee reacts) <3

p.s. if you guys can, kindly let me know if you like this kind of format for shinee reacts. thank you!

send in your requests here!

onew / jinki: you sighed for the nth time within just 10 short minutes. you were staring and pouting in front of your closet for you can't find the perfect clothes for your brunch date with onew. it was a hot day today and you just wanted to wear something cute but comfortable. however, it seems like your wardrobe doesn't offer that kind of outfit.

your eyes slowly traveled toward onew's part of the closet. his side was full of quirky graphic tees which you always find adorable. you don't usually borrow his clothes but you can't help but to take a peek at them and take the one that caught your eyes.

it was a white oversized shirt with a cute box cartoon drawn in front of it. you tried it on and it stopped perfectly on your thighs, making it look like a cute dress. surprisingly, it even matches the pair of sneakers you were wearing.

before you can even decide whether you were keeping it on or not, onew walked into your room. his hair a bit damp and he was only wearing a towel considering that he just took a shower.

"oh, is that my shirt?" he pointed at you.

"uh... yeah. do you mind? i just wanted to wear something that is yours." you sheepishly replied.

"no problem!" he beamed his big bright smile before proceeding to get his own outfit.

you muttered a thank you then went to your vanity to finish touching up your makeup. afterward, you grabbed your phone and wallet and placed them inside your shoulder bag.

"alright, I'm ready to go..." you trailed off as you saw what he looked like. "what the hell are you wearing, lee jinki?"

"your shirt?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly feigning ignorance.

he was wearing your favorite grey t-shirt and it looked pitiful on him, it was as if it can tear at any moment. it barely covered his abdomen and was stretched to its limit.

"no shit, sherlock." you facepalmed at his usual weirdness. "what i want to know is why... why are you wearing it?"

"i thought we were doing a thing wherein we wear each other's clothes." he shrugged as if his response should be expected.

"what? no! please have mercy on my shirt and put on your own clothes." you can't help but laugh at him as you pushed him back to the dresser.

"alright, alright! i just wanted to make you laugh and look, it worked perfectly." he playfully pinched the tip of your nose before taking off the top he borrowed. "also, you should keep that shirt since it looks a hundred--no, million--times better on you."

"thanks, love," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a warm hug.

key / kibum:

after the long busy months, you were finally having a girl's night with your best friends. you stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room to give yourself a final check. your hair was styled into textured waves and your lips were colored with the boldest red lipstick you can find. your nude heels matched the little black dress you were wearing. your outfit looked almost perfect and you just knew what you were missing. you quickly snatched key's gold leather jacket and put it on. ah, perfection.

this was the norm for you. your boyfriend's wardrobe was beyond incredible especially his outerwear collection and you just had to wear them every chance you can get. to be honest, key was very stubborn in letting you borrow his clothes... at first. after all the compromising, begging, and crying you made, he eventually budged and gave up. of course, it does not come for free. he practically made you sign a contract that once you stained his clothes, you have to shoulder the bill of the laundry and the shop will be chosen by him. however, if you damaged or god forbid, lost his clothes, you have to replace them. you immediately said yes to all of the conditions in a heartbeat. so far you only paid for 2 incredulously expensive laundry bills.

now, you were finally ready to leave. you walked out of the bedroom and made your way down the living room. there, key was sitting on the couch watching one of his favorite tv series.

"I'll be going out now," you announced as you grab your car keys near the front door.

"hey, hey, hey!" key clicked his tongue upon seeing your clothes. he was now looking behind his shoulder and giving you a stink eye. "is that my jacket?"

"um... maybe?" you gave him an awkward smile.

"of course, it's mine." he shook his head disapprovingly. "only i can pull that off, by the way." he sassily added.

"wow, i didn't know the fashion police was here. you should have given me a head's up, babe ." you bit back with a scoff. the last time you checked, you looked damn fine in it.

"just stating facts, baby," he replied in english.

"alright, then why don't you take me shopping then? so you can buy me a new set of clothes that will satisfy your standards." you challenged and if he said yes, you were clearly the winner.

"excuse me, i do call you 'baby' but i am not your sugar daddy. go now, you'll be late." he shooed you off.

"okay bye," a playful smirk appeared on your face. "daddy."

this made key rolled his eyes before turning his back on you. he would very much rather ignore you if you keep on acting that way.

"it's bye now, for real." you giggled as you open the door. "love you!" you called out before stepping out.

"love you too, brat." key mumbled with a small smile.

minho:

winter was approaching and the air was slowly becoming colder than usual. it was the best time to stay in the comfort of your warm home and enjoy hot cocoa with your loved ones. a perfect time to wear your sweaters and hoodies indoors. however, this was not the case for minho for his favorite hoodie was missing.

"hey, babe?" he called out from the bedroom. "have you seen my black hoodie? the one with the white writings on it."

"what's that, i didn't hear you?" you went inside a few seconds later.

and there it was, his favorite hoodie being worn by his favorite person. you looked smaller while wearing it since it was way too big for you. the hem almost touched your knees and your whole arms were lost inside the sleeves. he can't help but smile at the sight.

"nothing, i was just looking for my hoodie but it looks like i found it." he gestured at the clothes you were wearing.

"oh, shoot. sorry, i didn't tell you that i borrowed it." you hit your forehead with your palm.

"it's okay. you're free to use them anytime, anyway." he patted the top of your head.

within the last few weeks, minho noticed that you sometimes wear his clothes. it was not a daily thing though and you even asked for his permission. slowly, it became every day and he would just be surprised to see you walking around the house parading his jackets and sweaters. he didn't mind it though, he was just curious about what you do to your own clothing. also, he hoped that he still had some remaining tops for himself during the cold season.

well, guess luck was not on his side.

his eyes were staring at his closet wherein there was only one jacket left, one. you followed his gaze and you promptly felt the warmth raised to your cheeks. you were surely red from embarrassment now. you were happily wearing his clothes that you didn't have the time to count how much was left.

"oh my god, i'm sorry! i didn't--" you cut yourself off as you watched him put on the lone jacket from his dresser. "i'm sorry, i didn't notice it. i just... can't help myself. your jackets are so comfortable and warm compare to mine." you tried to explain yourself. also not to mention that they all smelled just like him.

"don't worry about it." he reassured you as he placed his arm around your shoulder. "just be mindful next time. i might end up half-naked someday, you know."

"how can you be so sure that's not my goal?" you teased before sticking your tongue out.

he laughed at your silliness and then pressed a soft kiss on your warm forehead. you decided to make a cup of hot cocoa for him as a peace offering.

taemin:

it was past midnight and it was raining cats and dogs outside. you visited taemin in his apartment for a stay-at-home dinner date but a storm came before you can even go back home. taemin then convinced you to spend the night there instead. it was not a big deal anyway since you stayed over a lot of times already. you just didn't bring your sleepover bag with you and the dress you were wearing was definitely not comfortable to sleep on.

your caring boyfriend of course promised to ease your worries. the two of you shared a warm bath after dinner and he lent you his clothes for you to change to. so that was how you ended up on his couch, fighting off sleep because the show you both were watching always had a cliffhanger ending per episode. you two needed some answers before you can drift off to sleep peacefully. it was the weekend tomorrow anyway so staying up late won't hurt that much.

your head was laying on his lap while his right hand was playing on the locks of your hair and his left one was comfortably resting on the top of your hip. his hand would occasionally rub circles on the exposed skin. as much as you hate to move from your cozy spot, you had to or else you might end up dozing off right there and then. not to mention, him playing on your hair does not help at all.

you slowly got up from the sofa as you tried to stifled a yawn. "i'll just go get some cold drink." you pushed yourself up from your seat.

you then raised your arms and stretched with a satisfied groan. your shoulders and back were sore after laying down for more or less 3 hours. you can even hear your joints cracking from stretching out. also, you felt the shirt you were wearing raised up.

taemin's shirts were not overly huge for you whenever you wore them. the hem barely covered your behind and right now you were sure that a tiny portion of your buttcheeks was peeking through the white tee. you weren't conscious about it, taemin saw much more than that anyway.

suddenly, you felt a slap across your behind which made you freeze on your spot. you looked behind and saw your boyfriend confidently leaning on the couch with his legs crossed.

"did you just slap my butt?" you inquired.

"uh-huh," he nodded with a cocky grin. "want me to spank you again?"

you frowned a little as you processed the sudden change of mood. taemin won't deny it though, seeing you in his shirts always made his heart skip a bit and his breathing ragged. you always looked effortlessly sexy in them.

"sure, why not?" you replied wickedly after a few seconds of silence.

taemin processed your answer in a split second and he hastily grabbed you by the waist and threw you on his broad shoulders. he did not forget you give you another smack on the ass when he made his way toward the bedroom, the television was completely forgotten.

[novelconcepts]

FOUND IT!!! Consider this an official ask for 3 and 14 combined! #wheee

smiling into a kiss and play wrestling

Having a best friend again is strange. She’d gone so long imagining the phrase as a sort of neon sign staked firmly in the past: Best Friend, already spoken for. Eddie had always been it; no other volunteers need apply. 

But Eddie’s gone now, out of her life, living out wherever his might go in another country altogether, and Dani finds the position has--slowly, without really planning for it--been filled once more. Not that she planned for it. Not that could ever could have. 

She didn’t come to Bly looking for Jamie, and if you’d told her the gardener who refused to so much as meet her eyes, much less introduce herself, would become the most important person in her life--well. Life is full of surprises.

There is so little of Eddie in Jamie, she sometimes wonders how both could have occupied the same shape in her heart. Sometimes wonders how Eddie--who prized cleanliness, routine work hours, dinners at his mother’s once a week--would look at Jamie, if he could see her. Jamie, all tousled hair, happiest with a cigarette between her teeth and both hands buried in soil. Jamie, who has never kept a nine-to-five, never craved Sunday afternoons with her parents, never looks at Dani like she expects firm posture, bright smile, neat clothes. 

They couldn’t possibly be more different--and yet, somehow, Jamie is her best friend. Unfair to think it, maybe, but she might be the best friend Dani’s ever had. Her sense of humor is dark, her vocabulary wallpapered with curse words and shorn letters; she smells of nicotine and sunscreen, dresses in wrinkled flannels and torn jeans. Where Eddie looped an arm around her shoulders, Jamie nudges her with bony elbows; where Eddie pressed his lips to her temple, Jamie leans carefully away. Different, in every measure. 

And it isn’t that she likes Jamie more. That wouldn’t be fair--not after so many years in Eddie’s company. It’s just that when Jamie looks at her, eyes bright, dirt smudged on one cheek, sometimes, she feels...

“You’re thinking,” Jamie observes. She doesn’t say it the way Eddie would--the way he always pointed out when she was clenching her fist under the table, or picking at her nails, his voice edged with concern bordering on condescension. Her voice is light, her lips curved in a small smile. 

Eddie never quite smiled at her like that. Or, if he did, it didn't pluck the same chord in her stomach. Not that that matters. Not that that affects the sincerity of friendship. 

Not that it’s making her feel weirdly flushed this afternoon. 

“Am I not allowed to think?” she asks. The sun, she thinks, is responsible for the goofy smile on her face. The heat of the day, which stretches on and on the way only early July knows how.

“Not arguing,” Jamie says. “One of us ought to.”

She’s on her knees, pulling weeds, her face shining with sweat. There’s something about days like this--afternoons where the kids are occupied helping Owen bake cookies, leaving Dani to nurse a glass of water and pleasantly-meandering conversation--that feels almost too good to be allowed. Eddie would have wanted to do something with a day like this: hike, or clear up the yard, or go visit family. 

Jamie, on the other hand, pushes to her feet and surveys the bed she’s spent all day working. “Think that’s good enough for a break. Here, budge over.”

Dani obediently scoots to the edge of her seat, amused when Jamie flops down half in her lap. A year of working at the manor, and Jamie’s gone from a woman who couldn’t make eye contact to save her life to this: gangly limbs tossed haphazardly over Dani’s, sweat-slick skin sticking where it lands against Dani’s shoulder. It’s too hot for cozying up like this, but she can’t seem to convince herself to push Jamie away. 

“There,” Jamie sighs, tilting her head back against the plastic of the lawn chair. “Christ, feels good just to breathe.”

“You breathe,” Dani says, “and I’ll think. Together, we make an almost-functional human being.”

“Almost,” Jamie says wryly. Her hand loops around Dani’s, teasing the sweating glass out of her grip long enough to take a sip. Dani nudges her. 

“Could get you one of your own, if you ever learned to ask politely.”

“Don’t like me polite,” Jamie says with a shrug. “My brand is prickly-yet-charming, and we both know I’m your favorite for it.”

“Technically,” Dani corrects, “Flora is my favorite. Mainly because she doesn’t make me remind her to say please.”

“Please,” Jamie says without missing a beat, “keep pretending you aren’t captivated by my winning personality.”

Dani laughs. “Oh, is that what I am?”

“Mm.” Jamie takes another sip, reaches over her to set the glass down on the table, closes her eyes. “S’what you were all pensive about just now, I’m sure. How entranced you are with my witty banter.”

“Entranced,” Dani repeats.

“Beguiled. Mesmerized. Drunk with adoration.” Jamie’s face is pink, a bead of sweat neatly lining her upper lip. Dani only realizes she’s staring a fortunate beat before Jamie rolls her head to the left, peering at her with lazy amusement. “Go on. Tell me how much you love me.”

“Love how ridiculous you can be, maybe.” And how sweet, and how unquestioningly soft, though she doesn’t see a need to put that into words--or a way to do it without sounding entirely out of her head. The heat, she thinks, is absolutely getting to her. 

It’s the heat, making her want suddenly to slide an arm between the plastic back of the chair and the cotton of Jamie’s tank top, pulling her even closer. The heat, making her want to displace the normal back-and-forth ease of friendship with something else entirely. 

She’s had a best friend before. She’s never quite wanted to do with Eddie what she is, more and more, thinking about with Jamie curled up beside her. 

Distract, she thinks, because Jamie is still watching her with that half-lidded expression she gets when the sun is particularly bright, the day’s work has been well-tended, and Dani’s shoulder is a cushion beneath her head. More and more, it’s been feeling like a dangerous sort of moment, Jamie’s face lingering near the crook of her neck. Jamie’s breath coasting down the neckline of her dress. Jamie’s smile sweeter than should be allowed, given the grumpy way she slouches around the grounds. 

“Thinking,” Jamie says, her voice almost soft. Dani shakes her head. 

“It’s not illegal.”

“Is,” Jamie says, “if you’re gonna just stare at me all googly-eyed while you do it. C’mon, what gives? Is today some holiday I’ve forgotten?” She sits up a little straighter, her face comic in its sudden concern. “Shit, Poppins, it’s not your birthday.”

She almost wants to say it is, just to watch Jamie turn fascinating new shades of maroon. “No--just--it’s hot.”

Jamie sags back with palpable relief. Her arm is freckled, Dani notices, beyond the norm; the summer is drawing all sorts of secrets from her skin, and it’s suddenly painfully tempting, the urge to trace her nail along these newfound constellations. 

Distract, she thinks again, more urgently this time. Without thinking it through, without considering the consequences, she dips two fingers into the glass of water and flicks the still-cool moisture directly into Jamie’s face. 

Jamie, to her credit, hardly jumps. She’s just blinking at Dani like their conversation has taken an unanticipated left turn into another language, water dripping from the end of her nose. 

“Okay,” she says. “If that’s how we’re playing it.”

Her arm reaches across without hesitation, replicating Dani’s playbook: two fingers dipped, flicked, landing back in her lap as Dani sputters. 

“You got me in the eye.”

“Cooled you off, though?” Jamie asks, almost politely. Dani laughs, and suddenly, it’s war. There’s barely enough room on the chair for the both of them to sit like adults, much less to squirm around, hips knocking, legs tangled up as the remainder of the glass finds its way--droplet by droplet--into Jamie’s face, down Dani’s neck, sometimes missing entirely and disappearing into the sizzling summer air. 

Dani is ultimately the victor, an upset decided when she grasps the glass--now containing maybe two inches of water--and upends it directly over Jamie’s head. She’s laughing almost too hard to breathe, particularly when Jamie gives a firm shake of her hair, looking like a rumpled dog after a bath.

“That,” Jamie says in a low, dangerous tone, “cannot stand.”

She’s up before Dani can stop her, sprinting toward the garden hose uncoiled in the grass. Dani twists in her seat, knees drawn up to her chest, arms extended.

“Don’t you dare!”

“All’s fair,” Jamie says, almost apologetically, depressing the trigger. 

They are, Dani notes somewhere in the back of her mind, full-grown adult women. They are thirty years old, gainfully employed, responsible for the upkeep of an entire house and the well-being of two small children. 

They are also now chasing one another across the lawn, Dani sopping wet, Jamie laughing so hard she nearly trips over her own feet taking a corner too fast. The hose is growing more and more tangled by the minute as she dashes in a zig-zag pattern, periodically firing a jet of water over her shoulder, and Dani has no prayer of catching up--not with her shoes squelching, slipping on wet grass, her lungs clenched around a soundless jag of laughter. 

Adults, she thinks, as Jamie makes the insurmountable error of trying to bolt past her like a quarterback dodging a tackle; she makes a successful leap over the tangled hose, but forgets at the last second to factor in the edge of the lawn chair. Dani has her around the middle before she can dart out of reach, the both of them tumbling over in a cackling heap of grass clippings, puddled hose water, freckled limbs. 

They’re rolling, shouting wordlessly around giggles, Dani struggling to pry the hose out of Jamie’s hands. It’s harder than it looks; Jamie is small, but strong in an annoyingly wiry sort of way. Even when Dani manages to get her onto her back, the water is inescapable, dousing in short jets across her chest, down her arms, pooling awkwardly between them. 

“You are,” she laughs, “a child.”

“Could a child do this?” Jamie replies, jerking upward at the hips with unexpected force. Dani rocks up with her, one hand grasping the sodden front of Jamie’s shirt for balance, and drops back down without budging from her seat. Jamie releases an oof as her back makes rough contact with the ground again, giggling too hard to successfully shove Dani over.

“Yes, actually, I think a child would be exactly that effective,” Dani informs her. Her body has never felt quite this alive, her muscles aching with the effort of an unplanned run. Jamie, chest heaving for breath, is practically glowing. 

“Just want to remind you,” Jamie says, “you did start this.”

“Does that mean I win?” If she hasn’t, she can’t imagine it would feel any better than this: straddling Jamie’s hips in the soft grass, cool water seeping down her back, her dress sticking pleasantly to warm skin. Jamie allows the hose to drop from her grip at last, her head tipped back, eyes closed.

“Call it a draw.”

“What if I wanted to win?” She slides a hand up without thinking, pinning Jamie by the wrist before she can decide to take up her watery weapon again. Jamie draws a deep breath, face flushed, grinning. 

“Guess you’d have to work harder for it.”

Children, Dani thinks--but suddenly, it doesn’t feel childish anymore. Suddenly, she’s overly aware of her dress rucked high around her thighs, of how short Jamie’s shorts really are, how her body is considerably less obscured than usual with her shirt plastered to her frame. Suddenly, she’s aware of Jamie’s hand flexing against the grass, pinned beside her head with a loose enough grip to break--though Jamie isn’t breaking it. Isn’t even trying.

Jamie is, instead, gazing up at her with hair mussed, eyes bright. Jamie, whose free hand is sliding up to rest along the curve of Dani’s hip. 

She’s Dani’s best friend, like he was, but this doesn’t feel like it belongs in the same category as late-night stories swapped by the fire, or letting each other steal the vegetables the other doesn’t care for off their plate. This feels like a category all its own: the way Jamie licks her lips as Dani’s head lowers, the way Dani’s fingers graze the freckles painting her wrist on the way up to notching her palm against Jamie’s. 

Her hair is wet, and Jamie’s face is sweaty, and there’s so little romance to the whole picture, it takes her by surprise. She’s always thought there should be talking before a thing like this, at least--a decision made on equal footing. 

“I don’t have to,” she says, even as Jamie is saying, “Do you want to?”

Children would laugh again, go back to wrestling, go back to how it all felt just a few minutes before. They are not, Dani notes as she lowers her head--as Jamie shifts up at the shoulders to meet her--children. 

She’s hyper-aware of all of it now: the sun beating against her shoulders, the hand Jamie is using to grip the back of her dress, the exact angle of Jamie’s mouth parting beneath her own. Her tongue is gentle, brushing Jamie’s, and the sound Jamie makes into her is anything but. 

She’s smiling, she realizes, so hard, it hurts--that deep, wonderful hurt of laughing too hard for too long, of slipping in the grass and landing in a heap with someone who couldn’t help catching her on the way down. She’s grinning into Jamie even as she’s kissing her, even as she’s letting her body stretch out to press Jamie more firmly against the damp ground. 

And Jamie, fingers curled between her own, making soft sounds of appreciation into the kiss, is grinning right back. 

“This was your plan all along,” she accuses, brushing the hair from Dani’s eyes when they break for a breath. “Awful lot of work, for a kiss.”

“All’s fair?” Dani suggests--and she genuinely, honestly cannot decide which she likes more: the way Jamie kisses, or the way Jamie kisses and laughs at the same time. All of it, she feels, goes a country mile beyond best friends. All of it goes a country mile beyond anything she could ever have dreamed up, walking away from him the way she did. 

It couldn’t possibly be more different.

[abbynx]

Juliet and Ophelia (Trish Una X Reader)

Like I said I can't pass up an opportunity to simp for this girl.

So this is a continuation of 'How would the La Squadra family react to you having a crush on the former boss' daughter, Trish Una?'

So yes, this series will be called, "Juliet and Ophelia" A Trish Una X Reader with a dash of found family with La Squadra and the Bucci gang so stay tuned!

Genre: Romance, fluff, wholesome

School. Nothing else to say, the certain word can emit a certain reaction from every individual. Some recoil and wince from the sudden flashbacks rushing into them, embarrassment and shame from all of the stunts they pulled. Some react with a certain fondness within them, lips slightly tugged to the side as the sudden nostalgia just soaks them up. Some, indifference. It's just an establishment wherein an individual attended for a quarter of their life and held nothing against it. To you, it didn't really emit anything from you. As a person who has never attended school, you looked at in an indifferent manner. You've been homeschooled all your life, relying on the knowledge your tutor Melone or sometimes Ghiaccio teaching you. They're good mentors, always took the time to make you feel like they aren't dumping overwhelming amounts of data on you. Additionally, they were extremely mindful of your well-being and made sure to not over-work La Squadra's adopted child. You thought of school as something as that, a school. You have nothing against it at all, nor you feel any sorts of things to it but you can certainly empathize those young people who struggle against it, tiring themselves to no end and are unsatisfied until their unmeetable standards are met. So that's what sums it, you were indifferent towards it... Until you yourself have began to attend it and all you can associate it with would be utmost regret. You didn't know what came up to you when Risotto asked of you if you wanted to live normally, he clarified that again; would you like to start attending school, like any other normal teens your age? Admittedly, home schooling is the norm too, but do you really want assassins educating you all your life instead of spending times with people your age, just enjoying the wonders of life? Ohhh, the entirety of La Squadra does not want you to emulate the same misery they've live to get to this, dear no. Risotto was kind enough to give you time to think about it, his right hand man Prosciutto taking the time to also explain its benefits and negatives. They offered to enroll you to a boarding school, attain a certain normalcy in your life for once. Although it was a boarding school, you can always go home every weekend to see them again. They can try to play it smooth and casual, but you know that they'd be too clingy to let you go. And by that, you accepted for some reason and now you've come to regret it, and can never take it back. You remain unmoving from your desk for the remainder of lunch break, head tilted down and interacted at the most interesting specimen to you, that were the pair of polished black shoes Prosciutto bought you. They were ridiculously expensive for a pair of shoes, but they are durable and pretty to look at, I guess. Just the perks of having a fashionable guy around. It was a dumb sight in hindsight and in an outsider's point of view, but you liked the way it gave out a glimmer when directed in light. Not only that, it's not like you can do anything about your crippling isolation in school. Everyone seems to despise your guts in this damned institution for some reason. You really don't know what they problems were, nor were they willing to confront you about it and instead opted to whisper and laugh at you from behind as you tread pass them. It was so damn unfair that you were one of the most fierce assassins La Squadra Esecuzione has to offer and yet you were easily taken down by a bunch of high schoolers who talked behind your back. You loathed this place. You regretted accepting the offer to study in this god forsaken hell and just wanted to go home. Melone's home education was more than enough, heck his teachings were more advance than the school curriculum has to offer and yet Risotto has insisted for you to experience this period of life for some reason. You've grown up from them, raised by assassins and have experienced the weirdest shit as a Stand User and they still think you need to have a normal high school life? And for what? It's not like there's an underground

organisation ran by students at school where you were needed to play double agent but no-- they insisted you to study things you already knew and compete among students apparently. The lunch packed with food remained untouched in your bag, wherein you planned to just give it to the stray cats and dogs just as you wait for one of La Squadra to pick you up from this damned institution. It's not like you were starving yourself, you were just uninterested to eat at the moment and you really didn't want it to go to waste so why not give it to those who are more in need? You weren't really accustomed to eating alone, as there would always be a member of La Squadra eating with you. These past few weeks felt so full without them that now it's made imminent to you that without them— life can be so colourless, so monochrome, so damn boring. Your crippling sense of loneliness, in addition to your utter unaccustomed self in a new environment made life hell for you in here. It would only be a few, agonising hours until you would be picked up by one of the assassins. At least there you'd get some actual slumber that won't require you to wake up at five o'clock to practically rush towards the school shower rooms and bathe in ice cold water in the middle of dawn for another day in hell. The teacher's lectures remained audible to you, and yet you couldn't seem to properly understand what she was going on about. It was a mere noise, as your eyes would impatiently dart up to meet with the hands of ticking clock, idly zooming by, as your legs bounced at the anticipation of the bell ringing. It was only a matter of a few more hours and yet, you just can't wait to ditch this hellhole for two days. "L/N, are you paying attention?" You jerk your head up from your daydreams with a slight yelp. Your teacher stood indignant, hands on her hips as she raised a questioning brow at you. "Well?" She waits. "Yes, Madam." You nodded. "Then pray tell, what is the common misconception about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein?" She challenged, shifting her weight on one side and awaits for your answer. It was then you noticed all eyes were on you. You knew the answer very well, it was simple really and yet being the centre of attention certainly hindered you from answering as soon as you can. "See? This is why--" "The common misconception regarding the Gothic novel Frankenstein is that often they refer the monster as Frankenstein, when in reality it's the name of the creator of the creature, Doctor Victor Frankenstein." You once remembered Ghiaccio's outburst about that, his shrill voice just ranting on and on about referencing the name incorrectly in modern pop culture. For a moment the teacher looks at you from the tip of her nose, as if to say 'I'll get you next time', before returning to the lesson Well, that was a relief. You released a breathe you've been harbouring, before turning your head yet again to watch the ticking hands of the clock go by and finally have the day done. ~•~ Similarly to your situation, it has come to her attention that she deeply regretted transferring back to school after a year of her absence. It was as if nothing changed, she was the same ol' Trish no one paid attention to, nor cared about. She only existed amidst their faint breathes whispering amongst each other behind her back as she passes by; "Whoop, there is she is again. I don't get why she returned." "Maybe she was pregnant last year." "Omg, really?" And she despises it. She couldn't have a single shit about their thoughts about her, but if they ever dared to spread rumours she wouldn't hesitate to use her connection with the mafia. She tries not to abuse this power, but come on, who wouldn't? At least now, they knew they wouldn't dare to land a hand on her, she has her own Stand now and not only that, her new family wouldn't stand something such as this to happen to her. All she wanted to do was to leave to godforsaken hell hole for two days for the weekend but alas, her pickup person was taking way too long. As much as she wants to stand up,

march forward to her new home with Bruno and the others, she was strictly told to wait for one of them to pick her up. But alas, they were taking too long and the roof of the waiting shed wasn't ideal for a rainy day either, not with its leaky roof, that is. All she can do was to sit on the metallic bench, and dodge dripping water leaking from the roof of the waiting shed. Seated at arm's length away from her, was a classmate of hers. A memory implanted itself on her brain after that one lecture in class, impressed at their quick wit to respond to the teacher's question, even if they paid little to no attention to the lesson apparently. And not to mention, their nonchalance response after proving the teacher correct was admirable. If only she can do something similar of that, she knew she'd be more proud of herself. The pinkette looks up in anticipation at the sound of a vehicle pulling over in front of a waiting shed, but frowned once she sees it wasn't the usual van Bruno rents. It was a black van, with pure black tinted windows and honestly, she'd think it was one of those vans that you'd be afraid of when you see it approaching. The student beside her let out a relieved sigh, and practically skipped off before boarding the van. Trish couldn't help but to sigh out as well, as she was now left alone to wait under the leaky roof. Trish shivered from the cold, before she decided to gather her knees in front of her chest to provide herself warmth from the rain. If only she brought with her the pink umbrella Giorno gifted to her, but alas, she forgot and left it back in the villa they currently reside in. She wanted to disobey them, and just walk home but she had no umbrella and doesn't really want to spend the weekend with her nose clogged and throat sealed with pain, as much as she wants to stay and rest within the villa with her new found family. She wanted to go home, she hated the hell hole and regretted her decision going back to it. As she wallows from her regrettable decision, the van door opens and the students steps out of it. Trish was confused for a moment, but didn't reacted to it, as her gaze remains directed down. For all she knew they don't left something behind, but apparently she was wrong. "Hey, it's pretty cold and you might catch a fever. You can borrow my jacket, here," Trish looked up, shocked to see you holding a black jacket and a light blue umbrella. She was shocked to say the least, but graciously accepts it. "The umbrella is a bit broken, sorry about that—" "N-no, it's enough... T-Thank you..." "You're welcome," they were quick to interact with, before they run towards the van once again and drove off. Trish watches the black van disappear into a turn, before she looks back at the jacket, subconsciously smiling fondly at it. She shrugs the jacket on, as it was slightly loose around her frame, before opening the umbrella above her head. After glancing at the direction from whence your van drove off, the smile on her face never wavered despite her impatience for her pick up person to arrive. ~•~ "So how was school, Y/N?" Risotto asks after a cheery round of laughter at the dinner table. You halted for a moment upon hearing the dreaded s-word being spoken. Thankfully, no one took notice of your reluctant pause and cleared your throat. You went on as normal, as you poke with your food in front of you. "It's good." You hoped that it wouldn't come up but alas, it was inevitable they'd ask that like any other adult talking to a young adolescent.  "Anyone got your attention~?" Illuso teases with his usual lopsided grin, with a mock crone. "Not really." You deadpanned, as you mentally rolled at the idea of liking someone in that school when everyone's been mean to you. "Your asking the wrong question, did you get someone's attention, though?" Melone chimes in. Once again, you mentally scoff at the idea of someone liking you. "Nuh uh." Oh if only they knew. Well now that you think about it, it was better for them not to know. They're highly capable people with strings to

pull and honestly, your classmates hasn't done anything physical to you yet. "Enough about the lovey dovey crap, what's important is that they're learning crap in school like they're supposed to be!" Ghiaccio retorts towards the two. "We're just glad you're enjoying yourself at school." Pesci adds with a warm smile. Another reason you can't tell them about your hatred for school. They were happy for you having that normalcy in your life, something they've never experienced pleasantly. As much as yours wasn't that ideal of a usual high school teen drama in one of those novels, but at least it wasn't as worst as their experience. And honestly, you would do just about anything to see them smile. "OHHH SHIT, Y/N'S SCHEDULED TO WASH THE DISHES!" Formaggio shouts from the kitchen in joy, prompting you to jerk up your seat in shock. The man has the tendancy to trick you into washing dishes sometimes and now that you've grown and realised how naïve you were, you grew more wary of his tricks. "SHUT THE HELL UP, NO WAY—" "YES WAY!" Formaggio returns from the kitchen, holding up the chart of dish washing schedule, before sticking his tongue out at you. "SUCKER!" Truly, you've missed the rampant chaos within your family, a stark contrast against the repetitive schedule in school. It was sheer chaos there too, not gonna lie, but this is a different type. This was the type wherein you felt at home, just smiling as the villa becomes frosted with a thin layer of ice unlike the one in school. You wanted to stay with them, but of course, their main priority was for you to have some sort of normalcy in your life and honestly, if that's what makes them happy you'd be happy to oblige. You are certainly doing great at school, and they're proud of it, it shows... If only Gelato and Sorbet were to see you as well. They may be gone, but you can just imagine them smiling and encouraging you. ~•~ Of course happy days would pass swiftly than its duller counterpart. Happy days were over once Monday hits and you were once again strapped to your seat for the next eight hours, another three hours by the library to get the Mount Everest high school work due to tomorrow, before curling up against the corner of your bed staring off into the abyss until slumber has taken a liking to you and claim you within its embrace and then somehow, someway, you would be then pulled from your sweet escape by a shrill bell from your bedside table, before you would inevitably glare at the blaring alarm clock, slam your hand against it before attempting to regain about five more minutes of sleep— only then to remember how things function in this seventh circle of hell as it was enough to convince you to get up and march towards your dresser with your stuff and head to the shower room. Needless to say, you've got the school schedule memorised by now. Even the usual discord occurring from time to time began to bore you. Nothing much really happened in school, you were just slowly deteriorating from boredom and by home sickness... Once gain, just goes to show how much you missed your chaotic little assassin family. You set yourself by your desk with a sigh, just wanting to get through this place without wanting to wreak havoc within the school premises that will prompt a bad mark on your pristine records. Not that you cared, it's just that Prosciutto will surely bitch about once he catches a glimpse of it and make an hour-long lecture about it. You let out an exhausted sigh for the umpteenth time, slumping against your desk with your eyes closed when suddenly a figure stands in front of your table. You immediately straightened your back and tried your best to look alive, before glancing up at her. "Oh hey, what's up?" You instinctively asked to swerve yourself away from the awkward silence, smiling up to the pinkette. "Hi, thank you for lending me you cost and umbrella. If it weren't for them I would've caught a cold back there." She hands you your jacket and umbrella back, in which you graciously accepted. "You're welcome, Miss Una— I-um—" you

stammered, your hands brushing against hers once you've reached to collect your neatly folded, pressed and newly washed jacket, along with your light blue umbrella. It was the heat of the moment when you gave her those following items and felt sorry for the girl, concerned about the dripping rain and the cold, humid air. "It's no problem." "Please no need for formalities, we're the same age. Just call me Trish." She insists. "There's the cafe in front of campus. I'll see you there after classes, my treat. It's the least I can do to show you my gratitude." "Uhhh, of course." For a moment it didn't process that the café she was referring to was an expensive one. The posh, fancy, the Prosciutto's to-go-to type of thing that charges an arm and a leg just to buy a shot of espresso, and they'd charge you your pair of kidneys if you asked for sugar and cream. Money wasn't a problem now that the boss was actually considerate, but why in all nine circle's of hell did you not insist her not to treat you? Well now's too late, as class has started and she's trudged back to her desk. Aside from the expensive coffee shop... Wow, you never thought that your encounter with her would expand to this type of interaction. At the back of your mind screamed wary, but something stronger in you just found this as a perfect opportunity for a friendship to bloom. She seems like a nice girl and quite frankly, she'd be lovely to spend time with. Like the weeks before spending your time in school, you gaze up to the clock as always, excited for something new other than weekends to go back to the La Squadra villa. This time, you were excitedly anticipating the time after class to meet with the lovely pinkette. Something good will happen, I just feel it!

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Merry Halloween

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 5/31

Prompt: “it's december. we can't celebrate halloween in december” “yes, we can” one where rowan can't spent halloween with aelin so aelin decides they're going to celebrate in december

Aelin was exhausted.

She really thought that finishing college and finally working on her own in the gallery would be the best thing ever, but in reality it was just brutal. She had an assistant only twice a week, meaning that the other days she was all by herself working on several different pieces of art that required all her attention. She was hoping that Borte would accept working full week next year, and that Kaltain and Elide would actually join her in the gallery when both graduated in the next spring.

For now, however, Aelin was tired, feet dragging as she came home.

An empty home.

That was another problem she hadn’t thought about before graduating months ago. Her art and history degree had only taken four years, as it was the norm, but her boyfriend, pursuing law, would have to go to Law School for another three years. It was fine, they agreed. It was a lot of busy work but they surely could make it work.

That is, until Rowan moved to Boston and Aelin remained in Chicago.

The long distance relationship fucking sucked, but it was that or breaking up with Rowan, something she didn’t see herself doing in a million of years. And so, for the past seven months, they had been living off phone calls, FaceTime and very rare weekends in which Aelin managed to fly to Boston. It wasn’t by any means ideal, but it was somewhat working.

And yet, as she walked home, looking at all the couples buying Christmas decorations, dinning together and just living their lives with one another, Aelin couldn’t help but feel a deep pang of jealousy. Her two favorite holidays were Halloween and Christmas, and she wouldn’t be able to spend neither with Rowan.

During October, he was too busy with the first quarter tests, and now he was studying like crazy for his midterms. There was no way he could go to Chicago, and Aelin didn’t have the funds or the time to go to Boston. She had to keep the gallery open, especially during Christmas season.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend in more than three months and it fucking sucked.

She fucking missed him.

Aelin finally arrived in her townhouse, courtesy of her granduncle’s will, and almost cried of relief. She just wanted to take a bath, order something to eat and call Rowan. It was Friday, so hopefully he would be done with his studies for the day and would be able to spend hours on the phone with her.

Thinking better, she could both shower and order with him already on the phone, so as she opened the front door, Aelin also started looking for her phone inside her purse. The thing was way too big and way too full, meaning that Aelin was bound to spend minutes looking for that goddamn phone.

“I need to be more organized.” Aelin grunted, stepping in. She started taking off her scarf as she still tried to look down at the purse. “A-ha!”

Aelin raised the phone triumphantly in front of her, and it took her only a few seconds to realize what was behind the phone.

“What. The. Fuck.” Aelin breathed, gripping the phone harder as she let her coat and purse fall to the ground, feet taking her deeper into the hall. She also felt her jaw dropping, mind so confused she didn’t know what to do first. She didn’t know if this was some of Aedion’s pranks or if she should be actually concerned and call the cops.

All around the townhouse, small Christmas decorations made the place look like it was the fucking North Pole. Even Fleetfoot, sitting by the fire that Aelin was a hundred percent sure she had not lit, was dressed in her small Santa hat, bitting a bone in the shape of a candy cane that Aelin was also sure she hadn’t given the dog.

The confusion only thickened when she realized that every decoration, every small stocking and red lanterns, were exactly where she would have put them. The townhouse was relatively big, and Aelin just knew that if this was one of Aedion’s pranks, he wouldn’t have done it so perfectly.

Aelin’s mind was racing, heart beating fast as she was torn between confusion and the need to grab Fleetfoot and run.

“I’d hope you’d be smiling more in this occasion.” A male voice came from behind her, and Aelin immediately whipped her head to the man now standing near Fleetfoot, hands on his pockets and a grin on his lips. His grey-silver hair was a little longer than the last time they saw each other in person, but the tanned skin, pine green eyes and handsome face were still the same.

Aelin dropped her phone, frozen in place for a single second before a joyful laugh ripped through her. The man’s grin widened, and he walked a few steps forward as Aelin ran to him. She threw herself in his arms, her own arms sneaking around his neck as she pulled him closer to her. Rowan hugged her back with a bone-crushing force, face burying on the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

“What are you doing here?!” Aelin asked, her cheeks hurting from smiling. She pulled her face back, staring right into his green eyes, face also lit with so much happiness that it made Aelin’s heart expand.

Rowan tried shrugging. “I missed Fleetfoot.”

Aelin laughed, hugging his neck tighter as she raised herself on her tiptoes. “I missed you so fucking much.”

Rowan lowered his head, hands going from her hips up to her face, cupping her cheeks as he pressed his mouth against hers. Aelin sighed in content, body immediately melting against Rowan’s as his hot lips moved on top of hers. It had been months since she had kissed her boyfriend, and the feeling of his boy against hers, his lips against hers was the best present she could ask for.

“I missed you so fucking much too, Ace.” Rowan murmured, bitting her bottom lip and then sweeping his tongue lightly against it. Aelin opened her mouth, feeling Rowan’s tongue enter it and touch hers. Her mind that had been racing seconds ago because of confusion was now racing for a different reason, whole body heating as Rowan deepened the kiss, mouth and tongue moving harder and more intensely against hers. Aelin dragged her hands down his neck all the way to the middle of his back, gripping his shirt as she took a small step forward, grounding her hips against Rowan’s.

Rowan’s hands were in her hair, fingers tangling with the strawberry blonde waves. He pulled some strands softly, earning a small and quiet moan from Aelin. When he heard it, Aelin felt a small huff of laughter against her mouth and she was ready to drag Rowan to her room and make up for the lost time.

However, it looked like Fleetfoot had a different idea, because the puppy got up barking, circling Rowan and Aelin’s feet. Aelin drew back, breathless, and looked down. She chuckled at the small, fluffy ball at their feet, and bent down to grab her.

When Aelin got up again, body still pressed against Rowan’s but now with Fleetfoot taking up some space, she chuckled once more. “Looks like someone wants attention.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Traitor. I bring you a present and you cock-block me.” Fleetfoot simply barked, throwing her paws at Rowan’s chest. He rolled his eyes, but smiled as he picked up Fleetfoot from Aelin. “Good to know both of you missed me.”

Aelin chuckled, shaking her head. “Her most of all.”

Rowan took his eyes from Fleetfoot for a second to wink at Aelin before focusing on the dog again. She was still a puppy, meaning that both of Rowan’s hands basically engulfed her. However, she didn’t really seem to care. Fleetfoot absolutely adored Rowan, and he would pretend he didn’t adore her as much. Seeing the two together, Rowan holding the puppy as if it was a toy, made Aelin feel her whole body relax further, a serene smile on her face.

“You’re staring.” Rowan murmured, eyes not leaving the dog.

Aelin shrugged, hugging him tighter. “I wish you could live with us.”

Rowan looked at her, an eyebrow raised and a hint of humor on his face. “Oh?”

They had been dating for over three years now, and it was no doubt that neither of them thought that the relationship would end. Aelin lived with Lysandra during college and Rowan had lived with Lorcan, otherwise they would have probably shared an apartment already.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to get me to boost your ego.”

Rowan grinned, holding Fleetfoot with one hand as the other one pulled Aelin by her waist. “You want to live with me, Aelin Galathynius?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I just said I do.”

“That’s adorable. No, really, I’m fucking flattered.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Aelin said ironically.

“It’s like you’ve planned our whole lives already.”

“Please, be quiet.”

“I’d move in, probably propose during Christmas.”

“You are insufferable.”

“I’d put a baby on you by next Christmas.”

Aelin snorted, shaking her head. “Have you been thinking about putting a baby inside of me, Ro?”

Rowan nodded dutifully. “Definitely have been thinking about the process a lot for the past months. We could be training for it right now if this small version of the Devil wasn’t so needy.”

Aelin laughed, petting Fleetfoot. “Don’t be mean, we three know you kiss the floor she walks on.” Rowan snorted, causing Aelin to smile more. “And if you are wondering, I’ve been thinking about the process too, I promise.”

Rowan grinned, opening his mouth to say something. In a matter of seconds, however, the grin became a frown and he sighed. “I can’t ask it with this thing here. She’s one year old, it’s awkward.”

Aelin clamped her lips together, smirking as she winked at Rowan. “The answer is yes, if you were about to ask what I think you were. Unfortunately you’ll have to wait until this one goes to sleep to be sure. She’ll follow you all evening.”

Rowan huffed half heartedly, walking up to the sofa and sitting down, Fleetfoot resting against his chest.

Aelin snorted, looking at him as she kept standing. The soft smile returned to her lips and, this time, when Rowan raised his eyebrows, his smile matched hers. “What?”

“I love you.” She said simply, walking up to him. She stood in between his legs, one of his hands gripping the back of her thigh as he looked up at her. “And I actually wish you could live with us here. Halloween was fucking shit to spend alone, and you probably will leave by Sunday meaning that I’ll be here alone for Christmas because there is no way I’d make you come back here a week after leaving, and I need to keep the gallery open.”

“Ace…” Rowan brushed his thumb against her skin.

“Long distance relationship fucking sucks.” She mumbled.

Rowan sighed. “Come here.” Aelin sat on the sofa, legs over his lap as he put his arm around her shoulders. Aelin rested her head, looking up at him. He bent down, kissing her softly. “I love you too. And I wish we could have done our Halloween marathon together with copious amounts of candy while we wore those ridiculous pumpkin pajamas, but—“

Aelin immediately sat up, eyes wide and mouth pulled into a smile. “Let’s do it.”

“You didn’t let me finish. And what?”

“Let’s do it. There is a store by the end of the street and all the Halloween decorations are in the attic. I have the movies and the pajamas are probably with the stuff you left in Chicago when you went to Boston.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Ace, it’s December. We can’t celebrate Halloween in December.”

“Yes, we can.” Aelin announced, grinning at him. Rowan shook his head, letting out a huff before nodding.

“Very well.”

Aelin squealed, throwing her arms around Rowan’s neck. He laughed, hugging her back by the waist. Even Fleetfoot raised her head, barking excitedly.

“Ok, so I’ll look for the pajamas in that mess of boxes and you’ll take Fleetfoot to the store.” Aelin said, getting up. Rowan nodded, holding Fleetfoot like a sack of potatoes. Aelin eyed him, shaking her head. “Thinking of you as a father is terrifying.”

Rowan grinned, walking to the door to grab Fleetfoot’s leash. “We’ll be fucking amazing parents, what are you talking about?”

Aelin snorted, walking up to him and placing tow quick kisses to his jaw. “I’ll also take a quick shower. Bring anything we used to buy during college.”

Rowan nodded, opening the door. “Fucking shit, I never forget how fucking cold this town is, and yet I’m always surprised.”

As he left, Aelin ran upstairs, opening boxes upon boxes until she found the pajamas.

She grinned, they were fucking ridiculous.

Aelin had gotten them in a Halloween fair during freshman year of college. At that time, she wasn’t dating Rowan yet, but they had… something. It was strange overall, but allowed them to spend an ungodly amount of time together. When Aelin won one of those hoops games, she chose the stupidest thing she could find. It turns out it was a couples’ matching pajamas— the thing was one piece for each, bright orange with a series of small pumpkins all over it. The hood was green and with a brown thing on top.

It was horrendous and Aelin had to physically force Rowan into them before it became a joke for them.

She then ran to the bathroom, taking a quick shower in the hopes of being ready by the time Rowan came back with Fleetfoot. Although rushed, by the time Aelin went downstairs, Rowan had already arrived back. He even had the time to go to the attic to grab the Halloween decoration boxes.

He looked her up and down when she cam down the stairs, a smile overtaking his lips. “You look ridiculous.”

Aelin grinned, throwing him his ridiculous piece of clothing. “And naked underneath. Now go change.”

Rowan looked her up and down once more, something different in his pine green eyes. When Fleetfoot barked again, he simply sighed, going to the bathroom. “I hate your dog.”

“Our dog.” Aelin singsonged.

For the rest of the night, they put up the Halloween decorations with the Christmas ones, making the townhouse look strangely funny. They sat down to watch the classic movies they always did, eating a whole bowl of candy together. Rowan wasn’t the biggest fan of sweets, but he always opened an exception for Aelin during Halloween.

It was around three in the morning when they finished the fourth movie. Fleetfoot was snoring soundly at their feet, Aelin’s whole body pressed against Rowan’s as he hugged her.

“Want to know something terrifying?” Rowan whispered against her ear, teeth brushing the lobe.

Aelin smiled, still staring at the screen showing the fifth movie beginning. “Huh?”

“We’ll have to clean all this up tomorrow. And take down the Halloween decorations because I won’t celebrate Christmas in a house full of Halloween shit.”

It took Aelin a minute to understand what he meant. She turned her face to him, hope blossoming inside her chest so fast she was almost dizzy. Her nose hit his, and her turquoise and gold eyes were staring straight into his pine green ones. “Celebrate Christmas here? As in you’ll be here a week from now?”

Rowan’s grin was huge and joyful. “Yeah. And New Year’s Eve too.”

“Ro?”

He cupped her face, thumb smoothing over the crease between her eyebrows that had formed because of the confusion. “And the rest of next year. And hopefully all years after that because I wasn’t joking about proposing to you on Christmas, so I hope you weren’t joking about me living here either.”

Aelin let out an incredulous laugh, mouth breaking into a smile as her eye watered. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“You’re looking at the new Law student in the University of Chicago.” Rowan said, laughing quietly with her. “It’ll be hard to get rid of me now, Ace.”

Aelin laughed out loud, not even remembering that Fleetfoot was sleeping near as she threw herself in Rowan’s lap, legs straddling his hips. She grabbed his face with both hands, pressing her lips against his and kissing him passionately as both of them laughed. Aelin felt as if she was in the biggest high of her life, her whole body consumed by happiness and warmth, head light and yet filled with Rowan.

“Oh my Gods.” Aelin whispered against his mouth, another laugh coming out of his, “Oh my fucking Gods.”

Rowan simply cupped her face back, fingers playing with her hair. “I know. I love you too.”

.

.

.

.

A/N: Halloween, Christmas and Rowaelin. My three favorite things. Thank you so much for this ask, you have no idea how i squealed when I read it! About the kinktober1: I will only post either tomorrow or Wednesday. I’m so sorry, but I bombed one of my tests and tomorrow there’s like a second chance, like a make up, and I needed to study so I didn’t have time to finish. It will be Rowaelin since I’m more comfortable with them. Because of the wait, I think it’s ok I give a small spoiler about which couple tomorrow’s scene will be: Jily.

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass​ @julemmaes​ @heirofthenightcourt​

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

“How are you holding up son, are you eating enough food? You need to keep up your strength.” Mitsuki Bakugou questioned through the phone when her son called to give her an update.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I am! And, um, thanks for the money you put in my account,” Bakugou mumbled his appreciation.

“It’s from us, Inko, and All Might— actually he’s been putting up the bulk of it. We’re all hoping you find Izuku soon, but until then we’ll make sure you have what you need, just bring him home.”

“I’m working on it. Bastard’s not making it easy, but at least the damn authorities haven’t picked up on the trail yet.” It was a good thing, because Bakugou didn’t need them scaring Midoriya further away.

“You’re like a dog with a bone when you put your mind to something, so I know you’ll find a way.”

“I can’t believe you just equated me to a dog!”

“Oh, bite your tongue boy! It’s an expression!”

“Yeah, yeah. I better go, the train’s here.” He could see it pulling into Kawaji station.

“Are you still not gonna tell us where you are?”

“Nope. He moves around a lot anyways. Just know we haven’t left Honshu.”

“Alright. Good luck son. I’ll pass on your update to Inko and All Might.”

This game of hide and seek was physically wearing on Bakugou, but there was nothing short of a full incapacitation that would keep him from searching. After the Ena incident, Midoriya’s tactics had changed somewhat. The man moved more frequently and, in a zigzag, whereas in the past it had been heading in a straight line towards Shizuoka to the southwest. But there was one thing Midoriya couldn’t hide— victims. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

There were still times victims were drained, but not all of them. Bakugou surmised in order to not leave them fully incapacitated like before, his friend wasn’t always waiting until he was hungry, or he hadn’t learned to control it yet. He probably fed almost nightly, picking drunkards who wouldn’t remember what happened, and even less likely to report the incident. But less reports made it harder to track, and less blood also forced Midoriya to drink more often. Bakugou hoped that with shorter times between attacks, the man would get sloppy and make a mistake.

There were a lot of small towns all over, including abandoned structures from older times. Plenty of places to hide, not to mention dense forests and the mountainous terrain of central Japan that a person could disappear in. When tracking a lack of victim reports grew frustrating, Bakugou started looking for other clues, and in one town, a perceptive police officer commented about thefts he’d been hearing about from the surrounding areas. Random stores or restaurants, even some homes reporting the theft of food, sometimes clothing, basically survival type supplies but no valuables, which are not the norm of a burglary. It was brilliant.

Bakugou had thanked the officer for the information and immediately began inquiring in towns and watching newspapers where they were having both types of problems. It took almost a month, including a couple of near misses, until Bakugou knew he was closing in.

Local newspapers were reporting about unusual happenings in the smaller towns. In Ieyama city, high up in the mountains north of Shizuoka, Bakugou spoke with a police officer and confirmed a rash of strange incidents reported. Three burglaries of just food, one bath house broken into after closing, and a couple of reported attacks where the victims had marks on their necks. So far, Izuku’s new behaviors included sticking around the same area for about a week before moving on. With these latest cases only 3 days old in total, Bakugou knew they were a fresh lead.

“Yesterday, right?”

“Yes, the last burglary was in the afternoon while the homeowner was at work.” Using a paper map, the police officer showed Bakugou the location of the most recent burglary as well as two others over the last couple of days. It was very telling. The three places were centered around a 4-block radius. “If you are looking for hiding spots, there is an abandoned factory in that area. I’ll give you the address.”

“Thanks. I doubt they’d stay so close to the attack grounds, but I’ll check it out.” He didn’t want any of them following him.

It was still daylight, but Bakugou didn’t want to waste any time and risk his friend moving again after dark, heading straight for the dilapidated warehouse. The place looked like it had been emptied for a longtime. There was a rusted, chain link fence around the property, many broken windows, and weeds growing over the structure. Bakugou crept up to one of the windows, and heard nothing, so he moved slowly, quietly around the exterior paying close attention to any sounds or movements inside. But he heard nothing to indicate anything was there, not even an animal. Maybe it was another dead end, or maybe Midoriya was just sleeping. Un-phased, he moved inside the two-story building to make absolutely sure.

It took a while to search cautiously through the darkness, watching his step so not to step on anything or make a noise. The vastly open bottom floor was almost completely empty aside from a few left behind junk. So, Bakugou moved to the second floor where offices once were. Of all the areas, the top floor would provide the warmest cover, as well as quicker access to the roof. Like a trained tactical soldier, he cleared room after room, moving down the hallway that separated the individual offices, and one by one, eliminating them from the search. Finally, Bakugou reached the last one and heard the soft breathing of a sleeping person. Well, that meant two options, it’s just a homeless person or he’d finally caught his friend off guard.

Bakugou peered cautiously around the door frame. It was dark, but just enough light from a small window allowed his eyes to adjust quickly on a form lying down on the floor. Next to the person was a backpack, empty food containers strewn around, and possibly other items from the burglaries. There was also a make-shift hearth of broken bricks and a metal bowl with dark residue inside. He could even smell the light scent of soot mixed with burnt wood. ‘Gotcha!’ He smirked as he pocketed his flashlight and pulled out a special pair of handcuffs used to dampen quirks. It didn’t completely shut down a person’s quirk, but it kept them from using its full power. He was ready for Midoriya this time.

‘Almost there…’ he crept forward in a crouched manner ready to pounce like a predator stalking its prey in careful movements since he no longer had the flashlight out to see by. ‘Damn minefield,’ Bakugou grumbled as he navigated around the strewn mess of stuff the sleeping man had around him. ‘Almost there—'

*Crunch*

A piece of glass shattered below his boot, the sounds reverberating off the silent cement walls. “Shit!” Bakugou dove forward when Midoriya immediately popped up and tried to dash away. “Not this time nerd!”

“Waaahhhcchan!” Midoriya screamed as he was tackled to the floor. The two men fought, vying for footing, but the blonde kept them on the ground. Bakugou grabbed for and slapped one end of the handcuffs onto one of Midoriya’s wrists. “Nooo!” The man screamed.

“Not this time Deku! You ain’t getting away!”

Weakened by the cuff, Bakugou poured all his strength into jerking the disheveled man, flipping him onto his stomach, and tweaking his arm behind him into a wrist lock for leverage.

Midoriya screamed again from the pain, but nevertheless fought with all he had. Unfortunately, the cuffs were doing their job. “Please, Kacchan! Don’t do this!”

“Tough shit!” Bakugou snapped back and attached the other cuff to his own wrist. The effects would hamper them both, but “I dare you, nerd, you can’t beat me in a contemporary fight.” He was confident of such, having always been the physically stronger of the two regardless of quirk. “I’m taking you home!”

Midoriya wriggled, and tugged, but it was of no use. His friend had planted his feet, dropped his weight, and refused to budge. He didn’t want to risk exhausting himself and triggering a full-blown thirst like last time, so he stopped struggling.

After a few seconds, Bakugou got off the man and turned him over so he could sit up. Midoriya nursed his arm and rubbed at his wrist to soothe the pain. “Of course, I want to go home,” he sighed. “But it’s too dangerous Kacchan, why can’t you understand that?”

“Eri’s getting better every day, one day she’ll be able to control her quirk and fix you.”

“That’s not good enough. What are you gonna do, lock me up hoping she can fix me?! You saw what happened! Just like we eat food every day, I need blood, how are you gonna deal with that?!”

“Fine,” Bakugou shrugged, “we’ll hook you up to an IV and feed you blood when you need it.”

“No,” Midoriya started tugging again as tears flowed down his cheeks. “Please,” he begged, “this is too embarrassing, don’t you understand! I’ll never be able to be a hero again, my reputation will be ruined once everyone finds out! Hero society will look bad! It’s better I stay away!”

Frustrated with having his wrist yanked, Bakugou whipped his friend around and put him in a carotid choke hold. “Well, I’m not fucking leaving,” he spat, “so, we need to come up with a solution. Now stop fucking fighting me and get it through your head, the reality is I’m not going anywhere.”

Midoriya clawed at Bakugou’s arm trying to pull it away from his neck, but the man had it cinched in tight. If he kept struggling, he was bound to pass out. Exhausted, he finally relented and turned into a dead weight, sobbing quietly. “Why are you doing this, Kacchan… why?”

“Because a friend once told me I need to save to win, and right now you need to be saved for me to win.”

“Right? Win, I get it,” Midoriya narrowed his eyes along with tone. “This is an ego thing? You’ll take me back to show how you’re still better than me?” His heart didn’t believe those words, but as a coping mechanism, it did.

Bakugou let go of the man and shoved him so hard Midoriya face planted on the floor, stretching the handcuff chain to its limit. “I ought’a punch your lights out for saying that! I’m trying to win my friend back you asshole! You think I’d spend all this time chasing you if I didn’t care?!”

“Kacchan…” The man sighed and slowly propped himself back up. “There’s nowhere safe for me to go.”

Bakugou ignored the man and looked at his watch, noting the sun would have fully set by now. It might best to stay another night while he came up with a plan. “Tch, I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, behave or I will just knock you unconscious.”

“Fine, I won’t fight. But I do need to feed tonight.” Midoriya lifted his arm to flash the cuff. “Guess you’ll have to help me.”

“Why? You feeling the urge?” Midoriya nodded yes. “How can you tell?”

Midoriya thought about the answer for a minute before responding. “It’s like feeling dehydrated, maybe, at least in the beginning, but then it starts to get painful if I don’t feed it. I guess think of it like if you don’t eat for so long your stomach hurts— that’s what it’s like.”

“Sounds like it sucks.”

Midoriya snorted. “Understatement. It takes control of my mind by that point, almost as if it’s a survival instinct to protect itself.”

“Well, mister know it all. You ever heard of this kind of quirk before?”

“No,” Midoriya shook his head.

“Do the vestiges have anything to say about all this?”

Again, Midoriya shook his head.

Bakugou groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter for the current situation.” He looked up again fixing a stare at his friend. “So, what do you do to get the blood?”

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 4

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

3326 words, 3rd person POV

Took a little bit of a breather so I don't burn out because this one is big! I'm going to have some mature content in future chapters btw so the rating will bump to 18+ for those. I will mark the chapters with that content appropriately so minors please do not interact with them!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

Some weeks passed and Jason and Lijah had gotten quite comfortable with their new routine. Jason had started to come by early every evening and leave before midnight every night, though Lijah still occasionally fell asleep while he was still there. Jason didn't mind these times. He took them as opportunities to watch Lijah without question or making him feel self conscious, as Jason rather liked the way Lijah looked and never grew tired of seeing his face. He still had sporadic thoughts of inappropriate things, but those showed up more now when he was alone and only thinking of Lijah.

The thoughts were troubling nonetheless, as Jason often found his mind wandering to daydreams of Lijah in the shower or how swallowed up by Jason's arms he would be if he held him. He even had thoughts of kissing Lijah, wondering just how soft those lips would feel. The images were innocent enough, but Jason still worried that he was sliding down a slippery slope by having them at all. He could hear Mother's voice in the back of his mind explaining how this was only the beginning. It would start with innocent curiosity and then, before he knew it, he would be consumed by lust and never be able to return home. The most troubling part about it all was that there was a frighteningly big part of him that didn't want the thoughts to stop.

In the silent moments that Lijah was asleep while Jason sat with him, Jason's strongest desires were to touch him. He didn't feel that these yearnings were particularly wrong in that he was only really interested in touching Lijah's hair and face, but he resisted out of concern for the progression of these urges as well as not wanting to wake Lijah. Still, the allure of his soft looking woody brown locks and even softer looking freckled skin called to him, inspiring a great many of his fantasies.

There was also the worry that Lijah would start to hate him like everyone else did. He was terrified that the instant he removed his mask, Lijah would never want to see him again. He could feasibly tolerate his presence now, but if their relationship progressed into something else, then what? Could Lijah stand to be with the monster who murdered so many people? The freak with a face so repugnant it instilled a murderous intent in others? Jason couldn't stand to think of betraying Lijah, but he also wished to find some kind of happiness for himself.

In the beginning, if Lijah fell asleep next to him, Jason would leave soon after to let him rest, but as their friendship went on, he would stay for at least an hour to enjoy the peacefulness of the arrangement. He would sometimes read one of Lijah's books, though usually he would sit and enjoy the calm atmosphere of existing in a safe location with a trusted friend. It was through these quiet nights that he learned Lijah was a sleep talker, and a relatively clear one at that. It had startled him the first time it happened; Jason thought that Lijah had woken up. He quickly understood that they were mumblings of a blissfully unaware Lijah, and soon came to enjoy listening to the odd phrases he would come up with while dreaming. A request to place a bag of fruit on a shoe rack, a denial of cream cheese spaghetti, occasional laughter...it was all somewhat funny to Jason until he heard his own name.

Lijah called out to Jason quite a few times in his sleep, increasing in frequency as time went on. The scenarios were often mundane - asking Jason to move from the hallway or how he was doing. Jason paid close attention any time these dreams occurred, curious about what Lijah was seeing. One instance, however, caught his attention like none of the others had before.

Lijah was sleeping curled up on his side, facing the wall. Jason was reading the final chapter of one of the adventure novels and the scene was coming to a thrilling climax. He heard Lijah murmur his name and turned to see if he was awake, as was the norm. Lijah's eyes were closed and he drooled slightly on the pillow, answering that question instantly. Jason returned to his book, but kept his ears focused on any further commentary.

"Don't go," Lijah whispered, his voice tinged with unmistakable sadness, "...want you...stay with me, Jase...please..."

His full attention now on Lijah, Jason's pulse quickened. He wasn't sure what to do to alleviate the distress Lijah was having in his dream. Eyes searching for a solution, Jason found himself fixed on a section of hair that had fallen across Lijah's face, hanging over his eyes and nose. Clenching his jaw muscles and praying he did not wake him, Jason reached out to push the hair off Lijah's face. He hesitated before touching him, beginning to panic, but then Lijah sighed his name again, his eyebrows furrowed with whatever upsetting images he was forced to see. Jason took a deep breath to steady his hand, then gently brushed the hair back.

Lijah's hair was even softer than Jason had previously imagined, like a young deer's fur. He couldn't resist running his fingers through to the ends, watching them slide effortlessly as if he were passing his hand through tall grass. Lijah's expression instantaneously relaxed as Jason combed his fingers through his hair, and he tentatively repeated the action. He stroked Lijah's hair several times like this, slowly, tenderly, fascinated by its soothing effect on him. Soon, Lijah had slipped back into a deep sleep, looking more comfortable than before.

Jason, on the other hand, could not be more energized. His touch was good for something other than bringing pain and death. He could be gentle and comforting. He had been uncertain before, but this proved it. He was capable of changing after all, not just in his mind.

He could not remain in the room for long after, his energy much too high to sit still or move quietly enough to not wake Lijah, so he left earlier than he wanted to. He spent this wild energy in the woods that night, hunting and trapping small animals to add to his own campsite's food stores. He felt deliciously alive in a way he was not used to.

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

Jason didn't tell Lijah about the nightmare. He worried that it might unnerve him that he stayed in the room while he slept, and Jason's top priority at the moment was keeping Lijah's favor. He had never really had crushes before, having no one around other than Mother, and could now somewhat understand that intense desire to be around the other person and ignore the world. Before now, he wasn't even sure that men could be attracted to each other. It was never in the stories Mother told him, and he had never seen it in his few ventures to the camp. He thought it must be extremely special, given that it was not as prevalent, and wondered why he hadn't heard of it before. Perhaps it was only heterosexual couples who were sinful and needed to be bound by marriage to erase that sin? He determined he would look into it later if it became an important question.

The desire to touch Lijah's hair again became much stronger after doing it once, however, and Jason resisted the urge each time he saw him. He could feel Lijah getting suspicious though, and didn't want to hide his feelings for much longer. What would Lijah think if he told him he liked him? He had told Jason he wasn't interested in dating anyone, and Jason was almost certain Lijah was only interested in a friendship with him. He wanted to at least tell him he wanted to explore a more sensual relationship, holding hands and hugging, perhaps, but he wasn't sure how to express that without seeming creepy. While he had no idea how romantic relationships worked, Jason had only the slightest inkling of how friendships worked, and didn't want to ruin this one by saying something weird.

One rainy evening, Lijah returned to the cabin with more energy than usual, claiming it was a slow day with the kids due to the weather, and he got to relax for most of it. This led to him excitedly showing Jason one of his favorite movies on VHS, setting up the living room with popcorn, extra blankets, and soda (though Jason politely declined the beverage and requested a water instead). Mother never showed Jason movies like this at home; he wasn't even sure they owned a VCR. When he was younger, they did have a TV and he would watch the occasional broadcasted movie, but once it broke, they never replaced it. As a result, he never cared much about catching up with popular media. There were chores to complete and plenty to do outside, so he'd never needed the extra entertainment. Still, it was nice to see Lijah get so worked up by watching the story on the screen, and Jason found it interesting as well.

The pair moved back to the bedroom once the movie was over, Jason having helped Lijah clean up the living room first, and Jason quietly read as Lijah did his bedtime routine. Jason had noticed he was growing rather smelly lately, more so than usual. He never cared much about hygiene - the smell didn't tend to bother him - and bathed infrequently with little water from creeks. Being around Lijah, who smelled so pleasant all the time, however, Jason was picking up on his own scent a little more, and found it potentially offensive. He remembered Lijah offering the shower to him, and contemplated using it at least a couple times a week so as not to offend his nice smelling friend who was surely not saying anything to avoid hurting his feelings. When Lijah returned from the bathroom, Jason wrote,

"can i use it to?"

"Use what?" Lijah asked, still toweling his hair dry, "The shower? Yeah, absolutely! There's plenty of soap in there and an extra towel. If you want, while you're in there, I can sneak over to laundry to wash your clothes for you too."

There it was. Jason grimaced. He was slightly embarrassed by offending Lijah, but grateful that he was being so casual about it. He nodded and awkwardly shuffled around Lijah to get to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, sighing deeply. He began undressing, becoming more uncomfortable feeling that his shirt stuck to his skin. How had he gone this long without noticing? He found the spare towel Lijah mentioned and wrapped it around his waist to cover himself before opening the door to pass his dirty clothes out to Lijah. Lijah took the pile, cheerful as always, and promised to be back soon. Jason was trying to avoid making eye contact, but he saw that Lijah's cheeks flushed when he was met with the sight of Jason in the towel. What could that have been about?

Enclosed in the bathroom once more, Jason dropped the towel next to his boots and removed his mask, placing it on the sink. This room was even smaller and more cramped than the other rooms in the cabin, leaving barely any space for his large frame to navigate. It was a simple setup of only the essentials: a toilet, a sink with a mirror over it, and a narrow shower stall. Jason stepped inside the stall and pulled the curtain behind him. The air still smelled of clean steam from Lijah's shower: a calming scent. Jason had some trouble figuring out the knobs, but managed to get the water running. The spray felt glorious on his skin, and he took a moment to bask in the warmth of the water. Certainly, this was a feeling he could live with a couple times a week.

Once he was done washing and rising the soap from his body, Jason turned the water off and stepped out, feeling almost brand new. He dried himself with the towel, but had not heard Lijah come back in yet. He put his mask back on and tentatively opened the door, keeping the towel tight on his waist. He peered out, but there was no sign of Lijah yet. The laundry room was probably in a different area of the camp, he considered, and it would take a little time for him to get back. Jason retrieved a book from the bedroom to occupy the time while he waited.

Lijah did return shortly after, bringing with him Jason's now clean clothes. He handed them off, blushing still, and left Jason to get dressed. What was getting him so flustered? Jason rejoined Lijah in the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"How do you feel?" Lijah asked, fidgeting with the ends of his hair.

Jason nodded and gave a thumbs up gesture, admittedly feeling much better now that he was completely clean (and smelling almost as good as Lijah).

"Good! I've gotta say, though, that's some tough material. I wasn't sure the washer could handle it."

He touched Jason's arm as he spoke, feeling the fabric of his jacket. Jason stiffened, caught off guard by Lijah's touch. Lijah immediately retracted his hand, his eyes worried.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "Was that wrong?"

Jason thought a moment, but then felt the strong yearning he'd had before to touch Lijah and run his fingers through that soft hair again. He shook his head, but felt a sudden, unexplainable distress that shortened his breaths. He reached for Lijah, who did not flinch or move away, and wrapped his fingers around his slim upper arm. Lijah's skin was so soft, so compliant to his touch...Jason released a shuddering sigh at how nice it felt. Lijah touched his arm again, running his hand up to Jason's shoulder.

"Wow, you're super touch starved, aren't you?" he said, giving Jason's shoulder a squeeze. Jason had never heard of the expression, but it made sense to him. Wanting to feel Lijah ached like a hunger, and being touched by him satisfied that hunger. He nodded, rubbing Lijah's arm as gently as he could, but still pushing him slightly from sheer size difference.

"Can I hug you?" Lijah asked, "I think that'll help the most."

Jason nodded, a little too exuberantly, and Lijah pulled away from him to hop off the bed. He faced Jason, his expression unreadable, then climbed up onto Jason's lap, straddling his thighs, and pulled him into his arms. Jason gave a small grunt of surprise, but melted into Lijah's embrace, clutching him tightly. The feeling was indescribably soothing and overwhelming at the same time, sending tingles throughout his body. How was it that Lijah always knew what he needed?

It was undeniable at this point that Jason loved Lijah. He loved everything about him. He loved the feeling of Lijah's breath against his neck. He loved that he was so small and delicate compared to Jason, and he loved holding him close. His scent was all Jason could perceive outside of the embrace and the sound of rain tapping on the roof of the cabin, that light, clean scent he could never get enough of. This moment was perfection to Jason. The only thing that could make it even better was...no, he shouldn't wish for such indecent things, especially not when this felt so wonderful. He also knew that there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. He wasn't sure how to tell the difference, but assumed he would know if it happened. So far, he knew he loved Lijah, but didn't think he was in love with him (yet).

Lijah pulled back slightly to be able to look at Jason. His face was placid and reflected the happiness Jason felt.

"You've got some big, strong arms," he said, rubbing Jason's upper arms as he spoke, "I bet you're a fantastic cuddler."

Jason shrugged. He would not know, but from the way Lijah said it, he would like to find out.

"Gosh, you're cute," Lijah mumbled, "You don't even know how worked up you get me, do you? I'll give you a hint...I can't get that image of you in that towel out of my head and I don't want to."

He ghosted his fingertips over Jason's mask, his eyes lowered to where Jason's mouth would be under it.

"Is it all right if I take this off?" he whispered, "I would really like to kiss you right now."

The thought of kissing Lijah made Jason's heart flutter, but he did not want to frighten him with the face that earned him so much hatred as a child. There was also the matter of what his mother would think, with Lijah's bottom so dangerously close to his most private area, tempting him with physical pleasures. Would she be upset? Or would she not mind as much, given it would only be a kiss? At this point, it was not a question of whether or not Jason wanted it, but rather should he give in to what he wanted and disrespect his mother's wishes?

Pulse racing as he began to run out of time for an answer, Jason forced himself to make a decision. It would just be a kiss, right? There was no need to overthink. Definitely no need to read too far into what he said about the towel...He lifted his hands and slowly pushed the mask up to just under his nose. He could no longer see Lijah like this, but he didn't need to.

Lijah did not hesitate to close the space between them. He didn't kiss the way Jason had seen others before. This wasn't sloppy or aggressive...it was soft and warm and sent tingles throughout Jason's entire body...it felt nice. He slid his hands up Lijah's back as he dissolved into the kiss, an intense blush creeping into his cheeks. Lijah in turn pressed his hands to the sides of Jason's neck, holding him just as close. The slight movement of their lips together felt so incredible....Jason almost forgot that this was supposed to be wrong. He curled his fingers into Lijah's t-shirt and sighed softly as their lips parted. He didn't want this to end.

Lijah pulled back, Jason leaning forward as he went, not yet ready to stop. Lijah laughed, that beautiful, musical laugh that made Jason feel wonderfully weak, and playfully pushed his face away.

"Give me some air, big guy!" Lijah giggled, "Believe me, I want more too."

Jason pulled his mask back down so he could see his breathless partner. Lijah's face was flushed and he smiled serenely at Jason, resting his forearms on Jason's broad shoulders. Jason couldn't help but to smile himself. Was this how normal people felt all the time? Was this what it felt like to be attractive and wanted? But then again...Lijah felt this way about him as he was. He was attractive to him.

Jason thrust Lijah to his chest, hugging him tightly.

"Whoa!" Lijah cried out, startled by the sudden movement, "Easy there! You okay, Jase?"

Jason nodded into Lijah's shoulder, giving his body a brief squeeze. Lijah grunted softly and gave another short laugh.

"Remember how small I am," he said, returning the hug, "I don't mind getting a little manhandled but don't break me."

Jason couldn't fathom breaking Lijah. He wanted to keep him and protect him from the everything. The little kisses Lijah planted along Jason's neck were more valuable than any luxury he could imagine and touching their foreheads together fulfilled him more than any prior achievement he'd made. He was in bliss, and that bliss was named Lijah.

[heroofshield]

F*uckuary Day 4- “You’re in trouble now” Reyes/Ryder (E)

(going with my canon version of Anna for this)

ALSO tagging @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and @kunstpause because they’ve been tagging me in WIP Wensdays/Six Sentence Sunday’s for a few weeks but I haven’t been creating until now. so...thanks for the tags!

--

Anna Ryder glanced up from her datapad to where Reyes Vidal was sitting on his side of the couch, focused on his omni-tool. They were on Kadara, in the Badlands at some safehouse Reyes had acquired one way or another. Anna didn’t know the specifics nor did she want to in her capacity as the Human Pathfinder.

Moments like this weekend were few and far apart, they were each busy with their own duties; Reyes running the port with Keema and his own smuggling business, Anna constantly hopping around the cluster to make sure the outposts were running smoothly, working on their alliance with the Angara, and anything else Tann wanted her to do in her role as Pathfinder. Vid-calls at odd hours and sending messages to the other when they could spare the time were the norm, but not seeing him had left an ache inside her. So she begged Lexi to tell Tann she was being run ragged and needed a few days off.

“There are other pathfinders to handle things. Besides, once I go after the Quarian ark they’ll all have to work with each other more. This is good practice.” she thought while switching off the datapad and standing, slowly stretching and hoping to catch Reyes’s attention with the motion.

But he didn’t blink and Anna frowned. She loved him, but Reyes could be so narrow focused sometimes.

Still not saying anything she sauntered over to the stairs and walked up to the second level where the bedroom was located. There was a natural spring nearby and now that the waters weren’t so toxic she was going to take full advantage of it. Changing into the one piece bathing suit she’d brought along, Anna grabbed a towel and made her way outside.

Sinking into the hot water, Anna closed her eyes and let her back rest against the natural wall of the spring, a sight escaping her lips. The heat of the water felt good against her stiff muscles.

“And here I thought you wanted to see me. Not just use me for the natural springs.”

Anna cracked open an eye and saw Reyes standing near the edge, arms folded across his bare chest and shrugged before closing her eye again, “Damn, my plan to seduce you so you’d bring me out to the middle of nowhere to a hot spring has been discovered. What are you going to do about it?”

Reyes let a smirk flit across his face briefly as he knelt before sliding into the water. “Since I discovered your plan, you should know that you’re in trouble now.” Moving through the water towards Ryder he waited until he was closer before continuing, “Appropriate actions will be taken.”

Anna opened her eyes to see Reyes in front of her, still enough space between them that she could move away. But she didn’t want too. Taking a breath to calm her suddenly racing heart she sat up. “And what will that be?”

“This.” Reyes closed the distance between them and pressed himself against Anna’s body so that her back hit the edge and his hands went to either side of Ryder, gripping the edge of the spring. Her arms moved, splashing water over them, and circled around his neck. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” Anna murmured into Reyes’s lips as he went in for a kiss. It was heady and hard and full of want. Anna smiled to herself as she felt his hardness against her leg and wrapped her legs around his waist. Letting out a noise as he brushed against her core, she arched her hips and pressed herself against him.

“Not so fast.” Reyes replied between kisses, moving along her jawline and nipping at her neck. “You still need your punishment.”

“I think...” Anna trailed off and let out a shaky breath as Reyes found the sensitive skin behind her ear. Clearing her throat she tried again, “I think that not seeing each other for six months is punishment enough.”

“Hmm.” Reyes hummed against Anna’s skin and relished the reaction it garnered. Pulling his head back to look at her he gave her a lingering kiss before replying, “You might be right.”

Taking her lower lip between his teeth, Reyes gently gave it a tug while shifting his stance so he could support Anna’s weight as he removed his arms from the embankment. Brushing his fingers up her arm, he felt his erection twitch a little at Anna shivering in reply to the sensation. Not saying anything else, he hooked a finger around the strap of her swimsuit, slowly dragging it down and exposing a shoulder. He repeated the action with the second strap and kissed the bare skin.

“Reyes.” Anna whined, feeling herself get even more turned on by the slow movements. “Please.”

“Patience, Ryder.” Reyes ignored the strain against his swim trunks and continued with his methodical movements; hands ghosting over her breasts, nipples, stomach, and clit. He didn’t linger for too long, a touch here, a squeeze there, a few strokes to make her squirm.

He wanted Anna begging for him to be inside her and he wouldn’t budge until then.

Anna bit her bottom lip as Reyes dipped a finger between her legs and tried not to let out the moan that the movement brought. She was going crazy and part of her brain knew that he was doing it on purpose, this was her punishment, but at the same time she didn’t care. She was willing to give into his little game if only to have him inside her. “Reyes,” she gasped out as he continued to rub against her clit. “you...you win. Please...I’m begging you. I need you in me.”

Reyes let a smile briefly appear before he hungrily kissed Anna on the lips and delved another finger in her. It didn’t take long until she reached her climax and tightened around his fingers. Continuing to kiss her, he pulled his swim trunks off and tossed them somewhere on the ground. Guiding her to line up with him, he pushed inside of her and they both let out grunts as they enveloped around each other.

Gripping the ground on either side of Anna, Reyes set a hard and fast pace, glad to finally be together after so long. He didn’t last long, not that he cared because there would be other opportunities to take their time. Afterwards, they recovered against each other and let the sound of the natural spring fill the space between them.

“Am I still in trouble?” Anna asked after awhile, brushing her nose against Reyes’s neck.

Reyes slightly laughed at the question, “Not anymore. At least for the time being.”

Anna pressed a slow kiss against Reyes, glad for the time that they had together. “I can live with that.”

[hoodoobarbie]

This is my application for a POC femme lesbian wife. Here is everything you need to know about me, pros & cons - good n bad.

I have a full time job, that allows me to live comfortably. For 3-4 days out of the week, you will only see me in the mornings as I smash a breakfast and rush off to work.

I work a lot, so fancy food is nice for dates but can we also make getting all day massages and laying by the pool and having a drink served to us the norm too. I work at a desk job 12 hrs a day so sometimes I don’t want to be cramped over a table looking at your beautiful face, all the time.

I’m a spa whore. Please become a spa whore with me, thank you. Let’s make going to the spa for a date acceptable. I have been to every 5 star restaurant in the state. I am very bored of them all. I’m also allergic to literally everything so I will mostly be staring at you while you eat. I eat mostly organic, farm to table and working on growing my own food. Even though I do look like the bastion of health, my health revolves around my diet. Likely you will be able to eat everything while I sip on a smoothie, so I don’t literally die. I do have cheat days twice a month.

I party during the summer and once every other month during the off months. I spend my weekends making candles, cooking, studying magick, doing self care, playing video games or gardening. Occasionally I go the arcade dressed in cosplay to tease the straights, then head to the lesbian bar next door.

I like to travel to exotic locations. I love going to Mexico. You must prepare to go to Mexico once a year. I love Mexico, so that’s like non negotiable. We will go to Puerto Vallarta aka Gayville to party with my brother and his problematic white gentrifying husband and get shit wrecked or go to Tulum. These are non negotiable family activities.

My brother is colorist and white washed, so you will have to deal with our constant fighting and me trying to attack him when he bullies me. This happens three times a year, we stop talking for a few months and then rebond again. It’s a toxic cycle but I cannot abandon my brother, unlike the rest of my family. I’m sorry but I know I can change him.

I enjoy giving small or extravagant gifts. I am a Pisces, I love luxury - I express my love through gift giving. You will be gifted a lot of plants, jewelry and other various trinkets.

I also have a memory of a goldfish.

I have ADHD.

I am a neat freak.

I have a praise kink.

I have a small cat named White Person. She is a hairless pink sphinx who wears non comodogenic sunscreen and eats a fully raw organic diet. She has her own collection of UV protective t-shirts and hats. She bathes once a week in powdered donkey milk so she doesn’t get eczema or pimples. Her name was Emily but everyone in my family kept making fun of her naked ass and now she only responds to White Person. So that’s her name now. Sometimes I also call her Whitey. Sometimes she will come to Mexico with us.

I am terrified of masculinity. This is why I am hyper femme. There will be occasional manic rants and literally occasions where I wake up in the middle of the night screaming men are evil. I have trauma and ptsd. So there is that & this also is probably why I hyper feminize. I’m very meticulous and passionate about skin care. If you are my partner, I will also groom you. I think nails, facials and spa days are like very important. Aesthetics are very important to me, so I work hard to have beautiful clean surroundings. Does this stem from a deeply rooted trauma response ? Yes. Am I terrified of dirt and grime ? Yes. I’m hoping I find someone patient enough to deal with that.

I have a therapist, a psychiatrist and a adhd coach. I have a full mental health team, behind me. I’m very passionate about that because of the things that have happened to me in my life.

I’m very social, when I do go out. I will want to get to know everyone. I will be buzzing around because I find people and their little brains interesting. I find all my friends and associates fascinating.

I’m asexual but non sex repulsed. I enjoy having sex and think of it as a way to bond with my partner. I occasionally have libido and function as a sadist but mostly towards cis hetero males. Speaking of which, you should also know I have a weird army of men who function as my subs. I call them my thralls. They just do what I ask. One of them is collared and has a monthly session with me. He is pretty, obedient and is like a servant/assistant part time, he also does great investments for retirement. So there is that too.

Hmmm 🤔 all of this is very discombobulated.

Maybe I will reformat this later.

My requirements for you:

Honestly ... I have no type. Just be aware I am a Pisces. Thank you. If you have some kind of weird hobby that makes no sense, that is very attractive.

[avelera]

One thing that has me excited about the Amnesiac!Nicky fic is it’s my first stab at the old “person from the past gets ‘brought’ to the future” “omg what is a toaster?!” trope, because for a long time I have had MANY Opinions™ about how others have handled this trope. 

- One thing I want to get away from is the idea that certain household appliances would be SHOCKING to a historical person, rather than simply neat. To many people throughout history, a refrigerator would just be a cold storage cellar in a smaller form, nifty in how small it is and how it works above ground, but not inherently a difficult concept to process. Ovens have existed throughout history, as has toasted bread, so the joke about a toaster freaking out a historic person to the point where they faint seems implausible to me, it’s just a tiny oven. That said, a microwave actually would seem pretty damn magical (as it was for people in the last few decades, even those otherwise familiar with modern amenities.) 

- Now, I’m writing someone from the 11th c. Mediterranean coming to the future from a bustling coastal trade port. Obviously you could pick someone from a really remote time and place and shock the hell out of them with just about anything. But then, you don’t actually have to make up a fictional event here. Plenty of non-industrialized societies have had encounters with industrialized societies, but many were not impressed. This is important to note since so much “person from the past in the future” fiction tends to give off a strong whiff of self-congratulation, an almost desperate self-reassurance by modern city dwellers that their way of life really is so much better. 

- A lot of what people think of as “modern” ideas aren’t that modern at all. Ancient Roman men shaved their legs and the women wore silk imported from China. They had curbside fast food, public fountains and bath houses with running water, as well as seven story tall buildings, which is about as tall as modern cities got until quite recently with the invention of the elevator to allow buildings to grow beyond what is comfortable for a human to climb on foot. Myths of the lack of bathing in the Middle Ages are greatly exaggerated, bath houses were quite common then as they are in many cities today where space in an apartment for a full bath is limited.

- A few things that I think would be shocking? Just to name a few that I rarely see in fiction utilizing this trope:

1) Fully stocked supermarkets. We can go back as recently as the Cold War to see that this modern invention is shocking even to contemporaries. Descriptions of a magical paradise in Medieval Europe were often less about elves and fairies and more about a place where food is bountiful and endless.

2) Speed is a big one, I’m actually digging right now for accounts of the first reactions to high speed travel because there was a lot of anxiety about humans going over 30mph/50kph. The sight of cars, trains, and airplanes carrying people at high speeds and even through the sky would be genuinely mind-blowing.

3) Painkillers and functioning (non-superstitious) medical care would be huge (the guy who invented ibuprofen just died). The rarity of people on the street not being visibly scarred by childhood diseases or cancer, and social services that reduce (tragically, not eliminate) the number of elderly or vulnerable people dying on the street without assistance would be a major change from historic urban norms. Receiving medical care based on a scientific understanding of the human body, undiluted by pervasive myths, was a rare privilege throughout human history and its visible effects on the health of the wider population would be an enormous shift.

4) Kindness to animals - the reduction of animals to do labor like horses to draw carts, the fact that farming is now a largely centralized industry outside the view of most members of the population, instead of something the vast majority partake in, has massively reduced our exposure to animal cruelty or even the daily necessities of killing the food we eat. Our sensitivity to animal suffering would be mind blowing to a historical time traveler. Not that kindness to animals didn’t exist, or horror at cruelty to a dog or a cat, but it was usually the exception, not the rule. 

- But I also as a final thought exercise like to ask this: what would be horrifying today to historic eyes? Not just crowds and bustle and speed, or egalitarianism or cleanliness or medicine, things we like to congratulate ourselves for. What would a historic person actually see as a huge step backwards? 

My answer to that tends to be: atheism. Religion is still a big part of may people’s lives but it’s not central to the functioning of daily life in industrialized countries the way it once was. Prayer was more than about moral cleanliness in many ancient societies, it was what kept the world functioning. A leader who did not meet their religious requirements could be violently deposed for failing to protect their people. Religious rites kept misfortune at bay and maintained social cohesion. Go back even 100 years and interview your own ancestors, and while they may be happy that you have access to an education, food, and medicine, you may not have to go back very far to find out just how horrified they, and most of your ancestors throughout history, would be to learn that even devout Christians (my own frame of reference, as I cannot speak to others) often only go to Church once a week or worse, only a couple times a year, when once prayer was multiple times per day.

So often this trope is only about modern people congratulating themselves for the accident of being born into modern times. There’s definitely a lot of stuff I haven’t thought of or included in this already pretty long essay. There’s a lot of stuff that’s my own conjecture, but I hope when writing my own take on the ‘historic time traveller’ trope that I break from some of the bigger cliches of the genre in favor of a more historically-informed take.

[dabblescrawl]

I Want Adult Problems - Part 7

Read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

It hadn’t been easy for her to take on 4 young children, really she was barely an adult herself.  But they settled into their own sort of regimented routine, practices, events, school, homework, and play.  The routines were the only way she was able to stay with her head afloat.  Each Sunday they chose clothes for the week, each kid had a set of 5 day sliding drawers.  Kid showers at night, morning was reserved for herself.  Breakfast was on the table each day at 6:30, be there dressed.  She’d purchased one of those big calendar whiteboards and had Spooky mount it to the wall.  The calendar was also double checked each Sunday, if it wasn’t on the calendar 2 days ahead of time, the family wasn’t going.  When they got home, shoes came off, lunchboxes went on the counter, homework was done first, dinner, and then any left over time could be spent leisurely until the bedtime, bedtime determined by age.  These rules were the result of too many kids and not enough parents, but they made due and each day it seemed to get easier and they seemed comfortable with the move.  Everyone was pretty willing to do what was asked and as time went on routine was simply routine.

Spooky had intended on checking on her every day still and he tried but with their many activities it proved harder and harder to catch her when she wasn’t trying to do a million things at once.  Each time he did see her she looked happy but exhausted, but when he’d seen her in town today, picking up the team after practice snack she’d forgotten to make she’d looked down right worn out.  She’d smiled a small smile and listed off their agenda for the day as she forked over the money at the cash register.  She almost forgot to ask Spooky about his day before flying out the door, but realized just in time to turned around and ask him.  “Nothing much” he’d replied, “Have a good day” and off she’d run to the next thing.

She pulled up in her drive noticing Spooky’s car out front.  The kids had piled out of her car and started off towards the house.  “SHOES OFF, LUNCH BOXES ON COUNTER, HOMEWORK TO TABLE” she shouted after the pack of them as they tumbled towards the door.

Inside she found Spooky standing in the kitchen, grocery bags lining the counter except for his prep work space.  Cesar and his friends all sitting at the table with their work out.  She heard Cesar’s voice first, “Here man,” he slid down the bench making room for Diego, “Do you wanna come work with us?” Diego was overjoyed at the attention from the older boy and set right to work.  Meanwhile Maria had caught Jasmine’s eye who tapped the spot next to her and motioned to have a seat.  

“Welcome home,” Spooky spoke next as she took in the scene, “I just figured you might forget to feed them supper too” he smirked, trying to hide his caring gesture behind sarcasm.  She’d smirked back, and slapped his arm, “Pendejo!”

“NOT NICE, NOT NICE!” Julio shouted, jumping around the kitchen. 

“Si, NOT NICE” Spooky answered back.  She rolled her eyes playfully.  “It’ll be ready in about 40 minutes.” he said.

“Come on ese” she said waving her hand to Julio, “We’ll get you a bath then, you stink from practice,” she said playfully pinching her nose and making her way to the bathroom, the little dark haired boy bounding down the hallway after her.  Spooky couldn’t even pretend to hide his smile and Cesar pretended not to notice.

In no time at all the teens had Diego and Maria all caught up for their work and had cleaned the table off for dinner.  It had taken Julio about 30 seconds to get jealous of his siblings and try to race out of the bathroom without his clothes on.  She’d pulled him back in, forced him to wash all over for real, towel dry, and throw on some pajamas.  Ariel was next and though she hadn’t put up such a fuss she was eager to get back to the other kids. 

Coming back out to the main part of the house she found her living room full of kids playing cards, all five teenagers with the four excited siblings squished in between in a circle.  She’d taken a picture of them and leaned against the wall taking in the scene until her stomach growled.

Rolling off the wall she made her way to Spooky in the kitchen, “What can I help with?” she asked and he shook his head simply handing her a beer with the lime already inside.

The timer on the stove read 5 minute so instead of arguing she pulled out a stack of plates, silverware and cups.

“Mano, get those kids washed up.” He shouted.  

She and Spooky had grinned at each other watching them all traipse through the kitchen one after the other to wash their hands.  Cesar started the line handing off a plate to each kid, “Go see Spooky” he told each teen and kid alike in turn and then filled cups at request.

Dinner was a raucous affair with all 11 of them in the small kitchen.  The laughter seemingly nonstop and the shouts of each person trying to gain the upper hand for the center of the conversation only added to the chaos. 

When it was over, Jamal, Ruby, Jasmine, and Monse had all thanked Spooky for the food but been on their way to their own homes.  Only Cesar stuck around.  Playing the role of the perfect older cousin, Cesar had everyone, adults included, in the living round for another round of cards.  They played Slap Jack so even Julio and Ariel could join in.

At 7 the clock rang out and she called for bed for the youngest and showers for the oldest.  Julio, as always the little spitfire, had a meltdown and Cesar threw him over his shoulder to cart him to bed.  With full attention on himself, Julio decided to comply.  She circulated in the usual order and read Ariel her bedtime story before saying her prayers, then on to Julio, then to Maria who’d showered first and wanted to talk about the girls in her class.  And lastly on to Diego who was talking about his day with Cesar.  He idolized Cesar, after all he was only about 4 years older than Diego.

She’d gone to do last checks when Ariel asked if Spooky was still around.  Cesar had overheard.  On his way out the door for the night, probably to go see Monse, he told Spooky the kids wanted to say goodnight.  Spooky couldn’t admit yet how happy the idea of wishing kids goodnight and putting them to bed made him.  He wanted kids, even if that seemed like a bad idea as a Santo, he couldn’t shake wanting them. 

After making his own rounds Spooky followed her back into the main part of the house.  But when they entered the kitchen she stopped on a dime, her hands coming up to cover her face.  Spooky just behind her had barely avoided crashing into her.  Just as quickly as she stopped she turned and threw her left arm over his shoulder pulling him down to her while also using it to raise her own face. Her right hand coming to rest on the crook of his neck just over his tattoo.  And she’d kissed him, with purpose and zeal, not timidly.  As seemed to be the norm these days, it took him a beat to realize what was happening and respond, putting his own long held passion into the kisses.

A beat or two later she’d pulled away and stepped back, her hands returning to her face.  “Sorry, sorry! I just, the whole night and then dishes…” she trailed off shaking her head and raising her hands in the air, “I had to thank you!”

Spooky smiled slowly, moving forwards towards her, “Do you always thank people like that?” he asked lightly.

“No” she laughed back, “Just you!” bringing her eyes to cover her embarrassed face once more.

“You can thank me anytime” he replied, cupping her cheek and pulling her back in for another bout of kisses filled with emotion.

When they pulled away the second time, breathless, she stared into his eyes a few moments before she shrugging, “I mean I guess I still have to make lunches, everybody’s so particular.” 

She started towards the counter, pulling out the snack and drink bins on her way to the fridge.  Spooky followed closely, he wasn’t willing to give up these moments just yet.  Settling behind her at the counter, he pulled himself flush against her, grabbed her hips and leaned down to place small kisses on her neck before resting his chin there, “Show me Mami, I’ll do it next time. Can’t wait to find out what kind of thank you that earns” he flirted, holding her close.

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 18)

Rating: T Warnings: Violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

Even weeks later, Ayame could not leave the subject alone. She brought the subject of Rangiku's victory up so frequently and so loudly that Rangiku had developed a scheme to feign deafness whenever Ayame started up.

"I just don't understand why you wouldn't-" Ayame would huff.

"What? I'm sorry, Ayame-chan, but I-"

"I said that I just don't understand why-"

"SORRY, AYAME-CHAN, BUT SUDDENLY IT'S VERY HARD TO HEAR ANYTHING. I think I might have blocked ears!" Rangiku would cheerfully lie.

Ayame would glare. "Don’t be so immature. You can't just pretend to be deaf to avoid conversations you don't want to hear."

Rangiku would momentarily pause in her efforts to mop the floor, and squint at her, digging at her ears. "SORRY, AYAME-CHAN, WHAT DID YOU SAY? I SAID I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

And Ayame would throw her cleaning rag down and storm off, leaving Rangiku grinning widely in her wake.

Whatever illness it was that Ayame seemed to have been suffering from also seemed to have passed. She was adamant that the vomiting spells which had plagued her were just her stomach adjusting to the inclusion of Rangiku into the cooking roster, reasoning which everyone else could quite easily buy, though which Rangiku herself contested hotly.

"There is no kitchen curse!" she would shout angrily. "You're just picking on me, like you always do!"

Regardless, one morning a little over a month after Rangiku's fight with the shinigami student, Chiyo had taken a long, hard look at Ayame, taking the girl’s jaw in one lined hand and examining her with brow-knitted intensity.

Ayame had gone pale and still, her eyes wide with fear as she suffered Chiyo's scrutiny.

"You've not been looking well lately, Ayame," Chiyo had said, slowly. "It's been too long since you've had a rest, I think. Take the morning to go into town. I have some things I need you to pick up."

Ayame had crumpled then with the release of that strange tension, and relief had filled her eyes.

"Of course," she had said weakly, her eyes darting to the door as she did so. "Thank you, Chiyo-san." She had made to leave as quickly as possible.

"Ayame," Chiyo had called after her serenely. At the sound of Chiyo's voice, Ayame had frozen in place.

To Rangiku, watching on, it had made for an odd spectacle indeed.

"Take Rangiku with you," Chiyo had said pensively. "It wouldn't do for you to take ill on the road on your own."

"Y-" Ayame had cleared her throat nervously. "Yes, Chiyo-san. We’ll leave straight away."

Which was how Rangiku suddenly found herself following Ayame through the streets of the fourteenth district, aching with a sense of sudden, dizzying freedom.

It was only seldom that she left the confines of the Floating Moon, and every time she did, she felt the openness of the sky towering dizzily above her. It was strange, but she never felt imprisoned until she was allowed out into the open, where suddenly she found she could breathe more easily. Today, the air was thick with water vapour and overripe with the potential for a storm.

As she breathed in, she breathed in water; the air felt wet and heavy and it lay on the two as they walked, clinging and soft, like an embrace. The sky was iron dark and gray, but it did little to suppress the energy humming under Rangiku's skin. If anything, the dark shadows on the horizon just made the bright leaves of autumn even more beautiful, and Rangiku more appreciative.

In fourteenth, the district had had the means somewhere down the line to plant decoratively- the elegant palm fan leaved gingko trees were beginning to turn butter yellow and the maple trees were sporting shocks of red and fierce orange. The air painted everything in soft focus, muting and blurring the edges of everything solid until it was as hazy and indistinct as a dream.

As Rangiku walked, she raised her arm up and let her fingertips brush against low-lying leaves the color of the sun rise, and she smiled softly to herself in the descending mist.

The sky was dark- so dark- but everywhere, the world was turning to gold.

I'm going to live beautifully, she thought suddenly.

Even if I have nothing else in the world. Even if I'm abandoned time and time again. Even if everyone says that I'm naïve and empty-headed. I'll live with my head held high and my fingers touching gold, and if I can do that, it will have been a life worth living. There is beauty everywhere for those who care to look, and I'm going to find it.

It was a secret vow she whispered to herself, and she held it close to her chest, tucked next to her heart with all the other small and profound things of which she was comprised- the taste of dried persimmons, abrupt kindness to a fallen enemy, the sound of a party in full swing. She felt warm, suddenly, in spite of the damp chill.

Even in the gray light, Ayame looked healthier, as if even just a morning off was good for her soul.

Rangiku was glad to see it. The past few weeks had given Ayame a wan, thin cast to her face.

"Ayame-chan," she called out happily, "I have money for mochi. Would you like some? We could get some tea to go with it."

It was testament to the heady power of a morning off that Ayame hesitated even for a moment. But in the end, not even a morning's freedom could curb Ayame's natural tendency to always, sensibly, obey the rules.

"We should do Chiyo's chores first, Rangiku-chan," she said, though a note of wistfulness was threaded through her voice. "Maybe once we're done with those though."

"I'm going to buy matcha flavoured mochi," Rangiku announced boisterously. "Matcha mochi, yuzu tea." She paused. "Matcha mochi, yuzu tea, and maybe a new ribbon from the market." She bounced slightly on her heels in giddiness. "Where do we have to go for Chiyo's stuff? What does she need us to get?"

"Lye soap, for laundry; jasmine oil for the bath."

"Do you know where we need to go for those? Where on earth do you buy jasmine oil?" Rangiku asked quizzically.

"Chiyo only ever gets the cheap stuff. There's a florist over on the corner that gives Chiyo a cheap price for her loyalty. That's where we'll go."

The inhabitants of the fourteenth were better heeled than the inhabitants of Rangiku's home district. By no means was anyone rich- certainly not by the standards of Seireitei nobility- but the inhabitants all had shoes, and looked to bathe at least semi-regularly. There were no children with hollow, empty eyes and naked backs here; no curdling stream of filth running through the street. Whores here did not heckle and solicit on street corners, but were obliged by law only to operate within certain areas of the district, over clean waters and arched bridges the colour of saffron.

The women went about with wooden combs in their hair, their healthy bodies draped in cheap cotton yukatas of every colour. It was rare to see a mouth of cracked and calcified teeth, and rarer still to see the pock-marked, poverty-disfigured faces which had been the norm where she came from.

It had been over two years since Rangiku had last felt rain dribbling on her face through a threadbare roof. Over two years since she'd had to bathe in a river. Over two years since she'd had only one stained, ripped and patched yukata to wear.

Sometimes she wondered whether the stains and watermarks of that old life were branded onto her soul, evident for anyone with keen enough sight to see. Would she always walk through busy streets with her fists clenched, ready to swing? Would she always scan dark corners and alleyways for the next attack? Would it show in her manners, in her speech? Was the dirt and shame caked on so thick and deep that she could never be rid of it?

Could everyone see it on her face?

And if they could, did that matter?

She was strong, she was young, she was beautiful. She was moving forward, striding forward. That had to count for something.

(But still, she feared those things burnt on her soul- the fears and the anxieties of abandonment and hunger. She feared them because she knew that they still had a hold on her and moved her in incomprehensible ways, like a magnetic field moves a compass needle. She could gather her things in a sack and walk a thousand miles from that place, but something of it would always be inside her; the fear.)

Here and now, she was indistinguishable from any other person living in the fourteenth district. Her clothes were every bit as clean as theirs. I look as if I was born here. she thought fiercely as she and Ayame walked through the cobbled streets. I fit in here. I’ll smack anyone who says otherwise. There was a rumble of thunder far off.

"Did you feel that?" Ayame asked suddenly. "I think that’s the rain. Did you remember to bring the umbrella?"

"Erm." Rangiku scratched at her head. She had heard that they were to have the morning off and had scrambled excitedly to find her money, like any person with sane, healthy priorities would.

"Rangiku-chan!" Ayame groaned in annoyance.

"Hey!" Rangiku protested hotly. "You have arms! You have legs! Why didn't you bring the umbrella?"

As they were bickering, the sky, thickly filled to saturation with water, finally burst. The rain which dropped fell in fat, heavy droplets which smacked against the ground. Ayame, fussy at the best of times, yelped in shocked outrage.

Rangiku grabbed her by the hand and began to run, overbalancing as she did so.

She only made it a few feet before she felt her arm yank in its socket.

"You're running the wrong way," Ayame shouted, though her voice was drowned out by the rain. Her chestnut coloured hair was stuck to her face with water.

"What?" Rangiku yelled back.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! You're runnin- you're running-" Ayame gave up and grabbed her arm and began to stride in the opposite direction. Rangiku followed blindly, an arm raised above her head to in the hope of some meagre cover.

The florist's was only two streets away, but they were soaked through and breathless by the time they arrived, Rangiku's fumbling with the door adding a good twenty seconds to the time they spent in the rain.

"Great!" Ayame complained, raising her hands in annoyance. "Chiyo gave me the morning off to improve my health, and here I am, soaked through and shivering!" She glared around the shop.

"That's not my fault!" Rangiku protested.

"I didn't say it was!"

"You aimed it in my direction!"

"I know you don't control the weather, Rangiku.” She drew herself up haughtily. “Don't be childish."

Rangiku glared mutinously. "You're not much older than me. I'm sure of it."

The shop assistant coughed politely, a hand as white as porcelain coming up to cover her delicate mouth, but Rangiku was pretty sure she could detect the hint of an amused smile beneath it. Ayame immediately looked mortified; Rangiku continued to shoot daggers at Ayame.

"I am," Ayame tried to smooth her clothes to make herself look a little more dignified, "so sorry about that. We didn't mean to create a scene."

Gin had seemed to make it his life's work to terrorise every shopkeeper he came into contact with. Rangiku hardly thought that raised voices and endless complaining warranted the level of embarrassment that Ayame was displaying.

Color flooded Ayame’s cheeks. "If you don't mind me asking,” she said in a quick bid to move on from the supposed shame of minor public disturbance, “where's Kojima-san? Is she working today? Not we have anything against you-" Ayame added hurriedly- "it's just that she has an understanding with my employer regarding prices, and my employer is very strict about this sort of thing."

There was a quiet, understanding amusement at Ayame's fumbling in the young shop assistant's violet eyes.

"Please don't worry," she said, her voice as soft and sonorous as glass chimes. "Is it the jasmine oil that you're here to purchase? I've been made aware of the arrangement, if so."

"Yes," Ayame said with a sigh of relief. "Yes, that's it. I don't believe we've met before. Have you only just started working here?"

"Six weeks ago," the shop assistant admitted shyly. "I've only just moved here."

"Oh? Did you travel far?”

The shop assistant's ears turned a delicate pink, as if she were about to divulge a shameful secret. "Inuzuri," she murmured, unable to look Ayame in the eyes.

If anyone could understand that feeling, it was Rangiku.

"Shit," she said appreciatively. "That's further than even me, I think, and I lived in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"Rangiku-chan, watch your mouth!" Ayame cried in shock.

"What have I done this time?" Rangiku complained in despair.

The shop assistant laughed then, an awkward, breathy laugh and the flush settled lightly on her cheeks. She looks good laughing, Rangiku thought. Healthier, more alive, more like a person. She smiled to see the woman’s composure waver.

"What's your name, shop assistant from Inuzuri?" she asked warmly.

"Hisana." The woman paused. “Just… Hisana.” No surname, Rangiku noted pityingly. It was not unusual for those from the poorest districts not to have one.

“I’m Rangiku, and this lovely lady,” she draped a clumsy arm over Ayame, “is Ayame.”

There was a short awkward pause whilst Hisana looked them over, during which the drumming noise of the rain filled the shop.

They were soaked, and their thin yukata had done nothing to prevent them from being soaked through to the skin by the weather. A cold, dim light filled the shop, second-hand light filtered through the rain clouds. Rangiku’s tabi squelched in her sandals as she shifted her weight, her chin raised pridefully as Hisana looked them over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Hisana said formally. She looked at them thoughtfully for a beat. “What perfect names you both have for the setting.”

Ayame wrinkled her delicate nose, but it was Rangiku who explained.

“We get that a lot, in our line of work. Men always think they’re so original.” Rangiku put on a comically gruff, masculine voice. “’’Lovely little flowers. I’d love to pluck your petals,’ and all that rubbish. It makes my skin crawl. What losers. They always think they’re so original as well, the smelly goats.”

Hisana looked confused, but was too polite to pry further into their employment histories. It was, Rangiku figured wryly, probably why she worked at a florist and not behind the bar in a whorehouse.

“The rain is pouring down very heavily,” Hisana noted, “and neither of you seem to have an umbrella. Would you like to stay here while the rain eases off? I could make a pot of tea.” There was a desperate look in her eye.

Ayame looked torn- it was very wet outside, but she was uncomfortable imposing too long on someone else’s kindness.

Rangiku had no such qualms.

“Hisana-chan!” she cried out, tripping over her feet in an effort to take Hisana’s hands in her own. “You’re our very own saviour! Thank you!” She barely paused. “Do you have yuzu flavoured tea?”

“Rangiku-chan!” Ayame scolded.

“What? She offered!”

HIsana shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid we don’t have any yuzu tea. Only standard green tea.” Anxiety entered her voice. “Will that suffice? Is that alright?” she asked, a slight worry in her eyes.

Ayame nodded firmly. “Pay no attention to Rangiku-chan, that klutz. Green tea would be lovely. Thank you for your kindness.”

Whilst Hisana pottered about making tea in the shop’s backrooms, Rangiku took the time to look closely at the wares.

Autumn was just beginning to set in, and the shop had wild bunches of the last of the summer cosmos on display, tied with string, pink and yellow and orange, childishly bright. The elegant, slender petaled chrysanthemum flower that was her namesake was also on display in singles and doubles, and she bent her head down to smell them, her nose filling with their green, aqueous smell. It was usually the second to last flower to bloom in the year. There had been no chrysanthemums growing where she had grown up, and she had scarcely known that she was named for a flower. It wasn’t until Yuki had offered to make her a cup of chrysanthemum tea that she had learned that fact.

As she cast her eyes around, they landed finally on a familiar sight, a scarlet nest of spindly protrusions, grown from a bulb, fierce and scarlet and beautiful.

Her eyes went wide.

He had been full of happy impatience, that day; all smiles and nervous movements. He had wanted to give it to her, that patch of ground, had wanted to make a present of it. She had not known at the time, but it had been his way of saying this is your home, this garden is mine but it is yours too, put something of yourself into it so that you can know that it belongs to you, that you built something here with me, that we were here together. "This spot is for ya'.” He had said. “Grow whatever ya' want here- onions, scallions, garlic, cress, cabbage. Whatever ya' want."

“Here. Give them to me. I'll carry 'em for ya’."

"They're pretty. This was a good idea ya' had. I wonder what these are?"

“The fox is having his wedding…”

He had given her a spot of her own in the garden in which to grow whatever she’d wanted, and she had wanted flowers. She had raced to the river and dug the flowers out of the riverbed with her bare hands, carrying them back bulb and all.

She had greeted him with mud on her face and arms full of spider lilies, and he had pronounced them beautiful.

He had barely looked at the flowers. She had thought that he must have been lying, just to appease her.

They were the first thing that they had put in the flower bed, and her spider lilies had returned every year after, as constant and steadfast as the rain. They had always bloomed for his birthday, and for hers too, thriving brightly as the world around them was beginning to decay.

It had been so long since she had seen them, and her heart ached all of a sudden for a ramshackle garden and a rundown house, for happy summer days, and for a boy made of smiles and silver, all so far away.

Hisana had returned with the pot of tea, and she poured a cup for each of them. In the damp autumn chill, the steam from the tea condensed quickly, spiralling and smoking in the air.

I need to have one, she thought. She burned with it, suddenly, the need to have some reminder, some memento, some thing that could tie her present to her past, something to convince her that it had been real.

(Because it had been real. Hadn’t it?)

(Hadn’t it?)

“Hisana?” Rangiku asked abruptly. “How much is it for one of these?”

Hisana’s hands flew to her mouth as if she had sparked off a catastrophe.

“Oh,” she said gravely. “I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Rangiku’s face contorted in confusion.  “Huh?” she asked, her mouth a small ‘o’.

Hisana took her hand gently. “You’ve not lost someone?”

Rangiku blinked. “No…?” She laughed loudly, retracting her hand to thread it nervously through her hair.

“Oh. Then I’m sorry. The higanbana is not a pleasant flower,” Hisana said in a small voice. “We only stock them for O-Higan, so that people might commemorate their loved ones who have passed on.”

Rangiku was silent, her brow wrinkled.

Ayame looked at her gently. “They’re flowers for the dead, Rangiku-chan,” she said. “People put them near graves, so that vermin won’t get at the bodies.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rangiku said quietly, a strange despair curling in her belly. “I always just thought that they were pretty.”

Hisana was a kind soul, and she rallied quickly to try and brighten Rangiku’s spirits.

“They are very pretty, and they do look interesting. There aren’t many flowers that look like a spider lily, and not many flowers at all grow so late in the year. And there are so many stories about them. They’re interesting flowers really.” She smiled enthusiastically.

Ayame was contemplative. 

“They say that once upon a time, the flower was the most sacred flower of all,” she said pensively. “Two spirits were commanded to guard the plant. One guarded the leaves, and the other the flower. But the tragedy was the leaves and the flower can never grow at the same time, so the spirits could never see each other.

But the spirits fell in love anyway, though the stories never tell that part. They decided to run away together, to become everything to one another, defying every law of the gods in the process. The gods raged at their disobedience, as all gods do, drunk and violent in their power, and they decided to punish the lovers for their insolence, for daring to abandon their god-demanded duty.

They would never meet again for all eternity, and never will, not until every star in the sky blackens and sputters out. Not until the sun and moon embrace each other in the sky without covering one another up. Not even then. They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again will still see higanbana growing along their path to this day, because of those two spirits. Red spider lilies.”

Rangiku’s expression must have been strange, because Hisana took her hand gently and looked her in the eyes earnestly.

“They’re just stories, Rangiku-kun,” she said kindly. “It is also said that the higanbana light the way to the next life, for what that’s worth. So they’re not all bad. You shouldn’t let stories get in the way of a pretty thing. If you want one, you should buy one.”

But something of the melancholy of the story had worked its way deep into her heart, and she felt like an empty-headed fool all of a sudden to have liked them so openly and enthusiastically.

Knowing the sad truth behind the lovely scarlet flowers, she was certain that she would never be able to look at them in the same way ever again. Joy in their beauty and all of her fond, sun-lit memories would be tinged forever now with a streak of sadness, like a line of spilled blue ink.

She could not stand the sight of them.

Outside, the drumming of the rain was beginning to slow.

She laughed a bright, fragile laugh, but it sounded a little hollow even to her own ears.

"No, no," she said, "I wouldn't want something as depressing as that in my room, Hisana-chan. Only pink cosmos for me from now on. You've done me a favor in any case, because I was going to spend my money on mochi, not flowers." She grasped around desperately for a change in subject, so that the two women would stop giving her such pitying looks. "Good job that your boss isn't here! What would she think of Hisana actively stopping her customers from buying flowers, eh?"

When she laughed this time, it was more genuine.

Hisana blanched in anxiety.

"It's okay, it's okay," Rangiku said smiling, and sipped at her tea. "We won't tell if you don't."

Ayame glared daggers at Rangiku, who pulled a face at her in return. "When does O-higan start this year, Hisana-san?" she asked, kindly changing the topic for Hisana.

"Tomorrow, actually. It's a little bit later this year, apparently. O-higan follows the movement of the sun, or something like that," Hisana paused thoughtfully. "Or at least, that's what I've heard. It will end on the 29th though."

"Due to the nature of our, ah, work, it's very easy to lose track of time. Days and nights kind of all blur together. September already..." She trailed off suddenly into a fraught silence, looking unsettled, like the end of September heralded a death sentence.

Rangiku had other concerns.

"It's only a week until my birthday!" Rangiku yelped.

Hisana looked very confused.

"I do not know your line of work," she said politely, "but do you not have calendars there?" The question seemed genuine, but Rangiku pointed her finger at her all the same.

"Ayame-chan! Look at this! Hisana-chan has only known us for forty minutes, and she's already giving us sass about our inability to keep track of time. She knows us both so well already!"

Hisana looked shocked, but it only lasted a moment before she broke into a delicate, tinkling laugh. "I don't quite know how to respond to that. Happy birthday then, if I'm not fortunate enough to see you again before next week."

Ayame stood abruptly. "We should go, Rangiku-chan. We have chores to do, and the rain has eased off," she said shortly, her expression stormy.

"Eh? But I was having fun talking " Rangiku complained.

"We shouldn't infringe too long on Hisana-san's hospitality. We're keeping her from her job."

Rangiku was about to protest that the shop was empty, and likely to be empty for the rest of the morning, with the weather being as bad as it was, but she stopped herself when she caught sight of Ayame's troubled features. Her eyes narrowed.

"Okay," she nodded quietly. "Let's go."

If Hisana found their sudden departure rude or unexpected, it did not show on her smooth, polite face. "Don't forget the jasmine oil you ordered," she reminded them courteously.

Ayame looked at her. "Thank you. I might have, had you not reminded me." She paused, and her expression softened slightly. "Thank you so much for giving us shelter from the storm, and for the tea you made us. You didn't need to do that. Kindness is rare, even here. We appreciate it."

Hisana smiled sadly. "I've not met many people since I've moved here.” She ringed her delicate, pale wrists with her hands anxiously. “I left everyo- thing behind in Inuzuri. I spend most of my days here, in the shop, alone. It was nice just to have someone to talk with."

"Then I'll definitely come again when I next have a morning free," Rangiku vowed. Ayame gave her a sharp look, and she swiftly moved to correct her.

"Rangiku-chan doesn't get many mornings off, so that might be difficult," she said smoothly. "But I do. I'll definitely visit."

Rangiku was puzzled, but said nothing. They made their farewells, and left soon after.

As they turned the corner, Rangiku craned her neck to look back. Hisana sat behind the counter, alone. Her pale fingers played slowly with the petals of the spider lily.

It made for a sad picture.

The rain had stopped, but the cobbles on the street were slick with rainwater.

Gigantic puddles stretched across the street and captured the sky in their flat, reflective surfaces. It seemed to Rangiku that there was a second sky right at her feet, that she was walking above it, and that with every step, she might fall through the clouds. It was a dizzying, vertiginous feeling, like standing on the precipice and preparing to let herself fall. Her heart beat an odd, syncopated rhythm against her ribcage, and she could feel her pulse in her neck, and it made her feel slightly sick. A strange sense of unease settled over her.

They walked in silence, Ayame's face tight with some unspoken emotion, Rangiku's eyes downcast.

They bought the lye soap Chiyo requested, and stopped at a market stall so that Rangiku could buy her mochi, but by the time it was time for her to order, she had changed her mind and decided to buy herself hanami dango instead. It was almost time for them to be returning to the Floating Moon, and she figured that it would be more easy to eat dango as they walked across the bridge to get home.

Home.

She was just starting to eat the red bean dango, when Ayame stopped abruptly in front of her. Rangiku was so absorbed in eating that she walked barged into Ayame's back.

Her eyes flashed in irritation. "Hey!" she hissed, outraged. "Don't just stop in the middle of the road! I could have dropped my dango, and then we would have had to go back so that I could buy more." She pouted childishly.

Ayame closed her eyes and inhaled as if trying to reign in her temper. She exhaled steadily, and when she opened her eyes again, she said:

"You and I need to talk. Properly this time. No stupid games."

"I've not done anything wrong," Rangiku insisted immediately.

"No,” she said. “No you haven't. But you're making a huge mistake, Rangiku-chan."

Rangiku looked up from her dango and gave Ayame her full attention. "Hm?" she said, taking a bite.

"You're making a mistake." Ayame repeated quietly.

"What do you mean?" Something twisted nervously inside her at Ayame's tone of voice.

"Why are you here?"

Rangiku didn't understand.

"I work here.”

“No, Rangiku. You know what I mean.”

She didn’t.

“I need to eat, and this job's better than the alternatives,” Rangiku protested weakly. “And anyway, I like it. I like being around you, and Yuki-san, and Sayaka-chan, and Rin-san, and everyone else. I like being useful." To Rangiku, it was simple. She needed to eat, yes, but more than that, much stronger still, though she would never tell Ayame, she knew that she would sooner die than be alone again.

"Rangiku..."

Ayame sighed. Something in her seemed to crumple in on itself then, as if some iron pillar in her had collapsed under an immense weight. She looked Rangiku straight in the eyes, and her brown eyes were bright and almost desperate. Rangiku stared into them uncomprehending, and she tried to smile, to get Ayame to smile with her, but it was no use. Her gaze was almost too uncomfortable to bear.

"Not everyone is as lucky as you," Ayame gritted out. "Not everyone gets a choice. How do you think Yuki got started? She was thrown out of her house because she was found kissing girls, and had nowhere else to go. Sayaka? Sayaka was hooked on drugs when she was too young and trusting to know any better. Rin? Fled a marriage to a prosperous man who nearly killed her. She still has the scars on her back. Rangiku-" Ayame's voice caught in her throat, "don't make the mistake of glamorizing this. All of us were desperate. None of us had a choice. Maybe there are some girls out there who are lucky enough to have a say in whether they do this or not, and frankly, more power to them if they do. But never forget for a moment- for most of us, there is no choice, and there never has been."

Rangiku breath caught in her throat. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked weakly.

"Do you know how many of us get our start? We're sold into it. That's how it was for me, and that's normal." Ayame swallowed. "I've only just paid off my starting debt. I could leave, but there's no other way I'd be able to make money, so I'd just find myself back where I started, on the street. Girls like me- we’re trapped." She paused, and when she spoke, her voice was thick. "But you're not. You could leave today if you wanted. You could leave now. You've got power. You've got prospects. Why don't you understand? Why won’t you leave?"

Rangiku could feel a kind of hot shame curling in her chest. Her voice wavered when she spoke. "But who would keep you safe?" she said, her hands balling up in her yukata. "You need me." She was certain of that. "I keep you safe. You need me."

The look Ayame gave her was unspeakably soft.

Her words were not.

"We don't need you," she said gently. "We were alright before you came, and we'll be alright after you're gone." She paused, and when she repeated herself, she sounded so thoroughly matter of fact that Rangiku wanted to cry. “We don’t need you at all.”

Her cheeks were suddenly wet, and her dango felt sticky against her hand, but she barely noticed.

It's happening again, Rangiku thought dully. Why? Why does this always happen?

She had made this, this small thing for herself, this space of shared jokes and shared nights; she had folded herself inside it, had made herself indispensable to it in the hope that she would not ever have to suffer loneliness again. It was her sandcastle, standing small and proud on the shoreline, the work of childish hands and clumsy labour, and she had smiled to see it, to know that it was hers and hers alone.

But the tide was coming in. There was one truth for her, though never for anyone else it seemed: there could be no security anywhere in the world. Just this: the futile effort of building, building, building, just to see it all swept away in the end.

"That's the truth," Ayame said and her voice cracked. "We don’t need you. You'd never have to see any of the awful things you see regularly here ever again. Do you think it's healthy? To be responsible for the safety of so many people at your age? To have seen the things you've seen?"

Rangiku cheeks burned. Her mind replayed Ayame's words over and over again on repeat; we don't need you.

"Rangiku," Ayame said, her voice low and urgent. "Do you really think Chiyo is content to let someone like you sit around playing barmaid when you could be making her money? When I'm gone, the first thing she'll do is coerce you into whoring yourself out for her in my place. I'm on your side, and I will be even when no one else is- you have to listen to me."

It was this which snapped her attention back to Ayame.

"What do you mean, 'When I'm gone'?" she asked, her voice small and tremulous.

But Ayame was tight-lipped and would not say anymore.

"There is a place for you. Out there, behind those pale stone walls. The new term starts in January. If you aren't there, in that stupid uniform, when it starts-" her voice came out of her throat almost like a sob "-then I'll kick your ass into next Tuesday. I swear it. I will. I don’t have powers, but I’ll do it."

Rangiku was dazed. It felt as if the entire world had tilted sideways, like she had stepped through the clouds and she was falling through space.

"What is happening...?" she mumbled to herself in horrified wonder.

Behind gray clouds, the sun was beginning to dip below the skyline, and the shadows of the golden leaved gingkos and fire-garbed maple trees were beginning to crawl and lengthen over the cobbled street. What little sunlight was to be found played idly on the slow eddies of the river below.

She watched Ayame looked up at the sky, her expression unreadable.

How fragile, this life. How easily it crumbles apart.

Ayame sighed. Ragiku watched her as she readjusted her yukata neatly, as fastidious as ever.

"We'd best get back," she said with distantly. “The gong will be sounding soon.”

She walked ahead, and Rangiku watched her as her green-clad back got smaller and smaller , before finally disappearing around a corner.

Rangiku looked helplessly at the dango in her hand. Her hands were sticky, like a child’s.

With a heavy sigh, she lobbed the stick into the air.

It tumbled several inelegant somersaults before splashing into the water below. She was no longer hungry. She felt sick.

[xaphrin]

Bonding

Part Four

“You look completely exhausted.”

Raven lifted her eyes and looked over at Dick as they walked down the nearly silent streets. For once it wasn’t raining, but it did feel a bit like the clouds were going to open up at any second. Raven ran her fingers through her hair, and adjusted her bag on her shoulder, feeling the weight of three books tugg her to the side. She was tired, but she felt surprisingly… alive. Today was the sixth time she had met with Babs, and each day made her feel like she was pushing a little bit harder, getting to where she needed to be, and it felt… right. It felt so right to be here.

“I am. But also… not?” She shifted, her hand resting on the weight of the books in her bag like it was a familiar comfort. “I feel good. Better than I have in a long time.”

Dick grinned at her, looking more like he was genuinely happy for her than proud of his own ingenuity. He walked next to her and bumped her shoulder with his own. “I’m glad. After what happened, I knew it would be hard for you to adjust and I… I didn’t ever want you to feel like you didn’t have a place with us, Raven. With me. I wanted you to know that I’m always here for you, even if things go a little bit sideways.”

Raven snorted. “A little bit sideways? I lost my powers… I lost… my identity?” Raven sighed and stopped walking, looking up at him. “I think that’s what bothered me so much. I had spent the entirety of my life knowing I was the spawn of a demon, knowing that I was a sorcerer, knowing that I had magic, and now… now I’m none of those things. Just a girl enrolled in college with no clear path in the world, except that she knows she wants to help her superhero friends.”

Dick’s expression softened and he took a step closer to her, his fingers tangling in her own as he pulled her towards him. “You might have lost those parts of you, but you’re still you, Raven. You still enjoy being with the team, still care about us, still want to be a good person, and you’re still my best friend. You’re still the person I met years ago, even if you don’t see it that way. The core of you hasn’t changed, your morals and your personality, and what you hold important to you. You’re you, no matter what. And whatever you need to help figure this out, I’m here for you. I care about you.”

Raven pressed her lips together, biting back a smile, and she rolled her eyes. “You’re getting sappy in your old age, Dick.”

“I’m barely 20.” His face fell, but he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice. “And you’re going to be the same age in like six months, so don’t even start.”

She laughed and cocked her head to the side, looking at him as the streetlights bathed him in a low, flickering glow. That strange warmth invaded her chest again, and Raven found herself feeling a bit lightheaded as she took in the sight of him standing in front of her. It felt like everything around her was changing, and she honestly didn’t really mind it. She didn’t mind that things were different now, because they were changing for the better, and Raven could see herself moving upward into a place she felt like she could call her own.

Dick gave her a teasing smile and his fingers tightened around hers as he started down the street, pulling her along like an excited child. “Come on, let’s go get dinner.”

Raven’s eyebrows knitted together as she jogged to catch up with his long strides. “It’s past one in the morning. Where is there a place open?”

“It’s Gotham. There is always a diner open.” Dick grinned down at her before snapping his fingers. “Oh! I know just the spot, come on!”

-

The old diner looked out of place shoved between and upscale coffee shop and an organic grocery store. Its windows were a bit dingy and you couldn’t tell what color the floors had been in their heyday, but there was something oddly charming about the whole place. It looked like it had stories to tell, and most of them were low-brow jokes and late-night memories. Raven settled into the booth and looked at the laminated menu, her lips tugging to the side, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. It felt oddly comforting being here with him.  

“So… what’s so special about this place?”

Dick shrugged. “The food is pretty good, but the milkshakes are the best in the whole state, I swear.” He paused and looked up at her, fidgeting. There was something dark flashing behind his eyes, and he tapped his fingers on the melamine tabletop as if he wasn’t sure if he should say something. “And… this is where my parents used to take me after performances, when we were in Gotham anyway. I… I don’t know, I kind of just wanted to bring you here and share it with you. It’s nice to share good memories with you.”

Raven blinked, her heart stilling at the mention of his parents. “Oh.”

She swallowed and wondered if she should apologize, but not knowing what to apologize for. Staying quiet, she looked back at the menu and read through the items listed, knowing that if she looked into his face, her heart would break. It always did when he talked about his family, and how he tried to hard to save them and failed. Dick had been through so much when he was young, watching him struggle and grow was both amazing and heart-wrenching. Raven knew she didn’t want him to feel that way again, like he had lost something he couldn’t save. She wanted him to feel safe, like he had a home, and-

That thought made her stop, and she finally looked up at him, confused as a strange realization settled over her. Dick was doing the same thing for her, trying to make sure she had a home, trying to make sure there was always a place for her, no matter what. Even if it meant pushing her outside of her norm to learn and do something more. So, what… what did that mean? That they were friends, or… something else? Her heart did something strange, and her stomach clenched, and she watched as Dick finally looked into her face, questioning.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side. “What’s up? You look… unsure about something.”

“Nothing… just thinking.” Heat crawled up her neck and Raven looked back down at the menu, shifting again. She needed to change the topic, or her thoughts would start to travel into places where she wasn’t sure if she would find her way out of. “So… what’s good here? What should I order?”

“Anything you want.” He leaned back and grinned at her, his charming, boyish smile filling his face. “This is a judge free zone, Raven. So, if you want to go ahead and eat three burgers and ten milkshakes, I won’t stop you.”

“Are you going to order the whole menu if I don’t pick something?” She thought back to the cafe a few weeks ago when the waitress looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Or can we both just get some fries and a milkshake and call it a good night?”

Dick laughed, holding his hands out in defense. “Okay, okay. I get what you’re saying… fries and milkshakes it is.”

He went to the counter to order food, and Raven watched him go, feeling a bit like they were growing closer now than when they were fighting together on the team. On the team it felt like there was always a criminal to fight, or a villain to defeat, or something that needed saving. But here, away from everyone, and all alone in Gotham… it felt like they were bonding in a way she never thought possible. It felt like they were closer now than they were before, and Raven… liked the feeling. She liked feeling like she had someone to turn to, when something wasn’t making sense, when she needed to scream or yell or cry. Dick made her feel comfortable in her own skin, to the point where her human emotions didn’t seem like such a burden. He made her feel surprisingly free.

“Two large fries and a chocolate and strawberry milkshake.” Dick settled into the seat across from her again, his smile back on his face. “And you have to promise me that you won’t leave the table until your plate is cleared.”

“Is that your idea of trying to heal me? By feeding me?” Raven raised an eyebrow, a small smirk threatening to play on her lips.

“I don’t know?” Dick shrugged, still grinning at her. “Is it working?”

Raven shook her head, her heart heavy and full, and she was helpless against the smile that finally pulled at her mouth. “You’re getting close.”

Dick just laughed.

[swiftiemcdibbles]

Long post about Lover Fest West, @taylorswift , and Christmas. It's a good one so please read!!!

You guys, I can not wait for Christmas!!! Not just because it's Christmas and all that comes along with the Holidays, but because my son will get to open an envelope with @taylorswift tickets to Lover Fest West. It's even more exciting because, like I've mentioned 1300 times in previous posts, I swore to him after his Dad and I got back from the reputation tour, Atlanta night 1, that he could go to the next album's tour. I made a whole post about what a big parenting no no that was, simply because I assumed(and ended up making an ASS of ME) she would do a normal tour or some semblance of a "normal tour schedule", and boy was I WRONG-O.

So, the most beautiful piece of art that has ever been released, you know a little album called "Lover", came out and pretty much immediately Jax, my son, started asking when the tour was.(he really started when ME! came out but it was ramped up once the album was released). To put this into perspective for everyone, if she was preforming at an awards show, he thought THAT was the tour and we missed it, if she did anything, like the BBC Radio 1 special, he thought we missed the tour again, and when he thought this, he would get upset, but not bratty upset, kinda like he was super upset but didn't want everyone to know. He's always been that way, we have a saying I have said since he was an infant "You get what you get and you don't pitch a fit". All along I explained those were just shows for TV or specials and the tour would be announced soon, and it when it was, and I PANICKED, I did more than panic I had a full mental breakdown. Mind you, my Husband is deployed. My Mom and Dad have both been pretty sick this year, Mom with Cancer, and Dad with a heart attack followed by full on Cardiac arrest and 2 heart surgeries within 15 days and now a pace maker. Also, I've gone through a lot of mental health problems this year while my rock, my Husband, was and still is deployed to the other side of the world. I've lost a lot of friends, and cried a lot of tears. It's been that kind of year, I feel confident saying that since January 6th of this year, I've had the worst year out of my 33 year life thus far. So the mental breakdown was a culmination of all things combined and then realizing that @taylorswift wasn't coming anywhere near us for a tour was just the thing that made me break. So after I put myself back together I was determined to fulfill this pinky promise I made to my son. I never want to break promises, and I've learned through this whole process not to make promises when I don't know if they are attainable lol. Thankfully I did the verified fan for the rep tour and was close to the front of the line for time slots to get tickets for that tour, so when Ticketmaster stated it would be similar this time around I was optimistic, I have family all over New England, I am from Rhode Island, and I knew I could make the Lover Fest East work. So of course I put that as my 1st pick and West as my 2nd. Well, by the time I got to choose our tickets, which btw was kind of a mess, my only option was CALIFORNIA. Y'all I live in the upstate of SOUTH CAROLINA. But, you bet your ass I got those tickets. No they aren't floor seats, like I got with the rep show, they are pretty high up and away, but my son will not care because he will be at a @taylorswift show.

Now, the reason I am so excited for Christmas is, my son knew when those tickets were going on sale. He came home from my Mom's, who had picked him up from school that day so I could sit infront of my computer waiting to get these tickets, and asked IMMEDIATELY if I got them and I did a cruel thing, I lied. I told him no, they were sold out, he was DEVASTATED, did not come out of his room except to eat and bathe and go to school for that entire week, and I wanted so badly to tell him I got them but I didn't. I did this because I still wasn't sure a trip to California was a possibility and didn't want to get his hopes up more than I already had and also because if the trip was possible I wanted to save them and all of it for a Christmas surprise due to the cost and everything. He has asked at least twice a week if I was sure there was no way we could go to this concert. It literally breaks his little heart he won't get to see "my Taylor Swift" as he calls her. Little does he know Santa has something for him, and he will be at that show. He also loves riding trains, so I booked us a cross country train trip and am gonna make it his summer vacation. He is going to be so excited to see these tickets and to hear how we are getting there. And the best part is he has no clue his dad is coming home in time for Christmas and is surprising him at school!! He thinks his Dad won't be home till February because that's what we were originally told, but it's been changed to December 8th or could be the 13th(I mean how coincidental is that?!?!). So we decided to keep it a secret from everyone, me and my Sister In Law are the only ones that know, so she can help me coordinate the family suprises. Eeeeekkkkk!!

So to say I am EXCITED FOR THIS CHRISTMAS is a huge understatement, but I do not know how to put into words the feeling I have for it! And after listening to @taylorswift explain kinda why her touring schedule isn't the norm on to Zane on Beats 1 , I FULLY UNDERSTAND and am surprised she's even touring at all. Sometimes, fans need to remember that you're favorite artist or entertainer is also a real life person with real life issues. I think we should all try to remember that as often as possible. And to @taylorswift I actually do pray for you and your family each night because much like you my mom is my best friend and I tell her everything and she's gone through cancer and is going through it again now, you can't help but imagine the worst, and that's ok, just don't sit in it, don't stay there. You know that though. Anyways, thank you @taylorswift for making my son's Christmas one he will never forget.

I AM SO EXCITED!!!

[dippedanddripped]

Considering the number of apparel retailers on the ground and online, it would appear to be a winning category. But broad sales trends are not in the sector's favor.

Several apparel retailers are struggling. Ascena is regrouping as sales plummet, unloading its discount banners entirely. L Brands is propped up by its personal care brand Bath & Body Works as Victoria's Secret loses share. J. Crew is in disarray, hobbled by debt and putting its hopes into its much smaller Madewell brand.

Profits in the segment were down 24% in the first quarter, according to a Retail Metrics note cited by CNBC, the worst showing since the first quarter of 2008, when they fell 40%. Department stores aren't faring much better. Their "departments" have been reduced to mostly apparel, plus some beauty and home goods, a stark contrast to their heyday when they sold everything from books to wine.

The troubles go back even further, however. In 1987, the average consumer allocated 5.9% of their spending to apparel and services, but by 2017, that had plummeted to 3.1%, according to a Deloitte spotlight report last year. The challenges faced by consumers outside of top-tier incomes could be a factor: average spending on women and girls' apparel has especially declined for lower-income earners, with the "only bright spot" in footwear, where share in apparel expenditure has risen across income levels, according to that report.

Existing competitive forces — notably the discounts found at off-price retailers and at direct-to-consumer sites, including Amazon — are challenging apparel retail, but fundamental changes in attitudes about what to wear are also at play. That is perhaps best exemplified by Lululemon, an apparel retailer who brought the word "athleisure" to the market and high-priced activewear style to fashion. It is also a rare winner in the category.

Assembling a strategy is complicated by the changing of the guard in fashion: The street has replaced the atelier.

The new boss

Fashion itself flipped the switch, according to Shawn Grain Carter, professor of fashion business management at the Fashion Institute of Technology. "When I saw this trend starting to emerge in the early 90s, really the 80s, I always link it historically to when Marc Jacobs did the grunge collection for Perry Ellis," she said. "Even though the collection was a disaster it was a major inflection point."

Jacobs famously lost his job after the 1993 collection was panned by fashion critics. That wouldn't likely happen today (in fact, Jacobs reprised the collection last year). Instead, brands are increasingly turning to pop culture for designs and trends — and to social media for approval.

"When I worked at Bergdorf's as a buyer, you did not wear jeans past 50 — it was considered inappropriate unless you worked on a farm. "

Shawn Grain Carter

Professor of Fashion Business Management, Fashion Institute of Technology

"The youth are driving this look. Fashion editors have lost the cachet of driving what is in and what is out," Carter said. "We've always had celebrity endorsements — but now we have people involved who know nothing about fashion. I mean Justin Bieber, for god's sake, but this is where we are. And social media is global, driven by peer review and peer approval. You don't have to wait anymore to go to Europe for inspiration. Why would you hire a DJ named Virgil Abloh? He is a creative genius but he's not a couturier."

(Abloh, who was named artistic director of Louis Vuitton's men's in March last year, in 2013 founded his own fashion label, Off-White, part of the Milan-based New Guards Group recently acquired by Farfetch.)

Other strong currents in society are affecting fashion, notably the value placed on sustainability, along with changing norms around gender and age, according to Carter. "When I worked at Bergdorf's as a buyer, you did not wear jeans past 50 — it was considered inappropriate unless you worked on a farm. And the cultural trend of gender fluidity is no longer an experimentation in androgyny. If men are going to wear lipstick, young people think nothing of that — because your gender identity is determined​ by you and not by society."

Indeed, both Carter and Thomai Serdari, professor of luxury marketing and branding at New York University's Stern School of Business, see fashion trends as driven by consumers, who are willing to wear Balenciaga and Target at once. It's no surprise, then, that haute couture fashion houses are producing sneakers, they both say. But successful fashion brands are doing more than simply adding expensive kicks to their assortments, according to Serdari. They're also relinquishing the power to dictate taste.

"You have this mix of high and low," she said. Even traditional fashion houses like Chanel and Gucci have allowed customers to be individuals and offered them choices by breaking up what were once sets like suits and twinsets.

"We don't see capsule collections any longer, but a focus on products, based on how people live their life. They're thinking about how these products can stand individually, this is what attracts people to Gucci right now. There is still a segment that shops the full outfit from brands. But their number is diminishing," Serdari said.

"With a greater focus on work-life balance, there's an increasing number of people taking an interest in having an active lifestyle so in turn the idea of traditional workwear is evolving."

Kayla Marci

Edited Market Analyst

Future trends don't look promising either in light of Gen Z's attitude toward paying full price for clothes. Gen Z shoppers who enjoy shopping said they buy clothes at full price 25% to 50% of the time, but those who don't like shopping said they buy clothing at full price less than 25% of the time, according to a recent MakerSights report.

It's not just a penchant for discounts, however. Consumers are not just aiming to pay less for clothing, they're also buying less in the first place. That trend may be further compounded by tariffs slapped on goods made in China that could jeopardize sales, according to several retailers and the American Apparel & Footwear Association.

Cold comfort in hot activewear

Along with a democratization of who determines what is fashionable has come the casualization of apparel. Much of retailers' discomfort can be attributed to consumers' desire for comfort in all phases of their day.

Several analysts have pinpointed athleisure and other casual styles as rare growth areas for apparel retail. In an Aug. 5 note emailed to Retail Dive, Morgan Stanley analysts raised their five-year global activewear growth forecasts, citing "evidence of continued momentum for global brands in the US and accelerating DTC growth, coupled with a stronger 2018" and noting that retailers will be "increasingly challenged."

One reason is that fewer and fewer employees need a separate wardrobe for work. Even Goldman Sachs recently stopped requiring tailored suits for men, notes FIT's Carter. "So now even the bankers don't have to spend $3,000 on a bespoke suit," she told Retail Dive in an interview. "They can wear a sweater like they're going on to the Hamptons. Everybody wants to have this hip look from the entrepreneurs who are revolutionizing society."

Euromonitor pins recent and future U.S. apparel sales growth on "changing consumer lifestyles" centered on health, wellness and activity. The firm measured 10% growth in U.S. apparel and footwear sales over five years (2013-2018) to $284 billion, according to data emailed to Retail Dive. That's spilling into everyday wear, according to fashion analytics firm Edited. New sneaker arrivals for men, for example, have risen 34% year over year and for women 11%, while new arrivals for women's pumps fell 3%, according to Edited data.

"With a greater focus on work-life balance, there's an increasing number of people taking an interest in having an active lifestyle so in turn the idea of traditional workwear is evolving," Edited Market Analyst Kayla Marci told Retail Dive in an email. "Globally, the lines between workwear and everyday apparel are becoming more blurred. A great example is how sneakers are dominating footwear assortments, and worn outside of the gym and into the office."

And it's not just work, Carter notes. "Tea, the Saturday and Sunday Sabbath, a wedding, a funeral," she said. "What are you going to get dressed up for? Whereas baby boomers always had clothes for career, clothes for socializing and clothes for special occasions, I can wear my sneakers to every single event."

"If my life had four activities per day, I needed four outfits, five days a week — that's a lot of outfits and people don't need that any longer."

Thomai Serdari

Professor of Luxury Marketing and Branding, New York University's Stern School of Business

It's not hard to see why, for example, Nordstrom is struggling despite its retail innovations. Shoppers no longer flock there for special occasion and other pricier apparel, which led UBS analysts last month to deem the department store a "no-growth retailer," citing trends for less expensive and more casual attire.

That's unlikely to change, at least not much. Carter says she is seeing some return in the desire to dress up a bit more, with invitations to weddings and fundraisers now often calling for "smart casual," which is often open to a wide interpretation.

"Americans started this trend and it's here to stay. But they still get dressed for dinner in Europe, and you don't go to a meeting in Shanghai or Beijing in khaki pants," she said. "I'm seeing women dress up a little more. Cute ballet flats. And we're dressing up things that we didn't before, like sneakers and tote bags. We have to be careful to ensure that the expression through our fashion doesn't mean that we are sloppy in our lives."

Serdari isn't so sure. "If my life had four activities per day, I needed four outfits, five days a week — that's a lot of outfits and people don't need that any longer," she said. "I don't think our styling is going to change or go back. I think we're going to get even more relaxed."

And therein lies the hope for fashion — that it is a way to express yourself, according to Carter.

"People will always buy fashion because people like to escape, and we sell a fantasy," she said. "Most people wear fashion because they feel good. It has an emotional appeal and it is an expression of their individuality and their identity. I'm noticing more adjectives added to the word 'casual,' like 'casual chic.' These are all buzzwords for dressing with some class and sass, even if it's casual.