#(which is hilarious because i do in fact drink enough water: I'm the only one in the family who actually does)

[durzarya]

Sometimes I get really annoyed that despite going to several dermatologists and getting several different acne treatments both prescribed and a variety of cleansers. My acne never really disappeared. It's not as visible as it was when I was a teenager it's just annoying (although most of the times I don't give a single fuck)

Anyways the dermatologists could never figure out why all their things barely worked.

Now it was a really cold winter which means that I could feel my skin getting dry on my face. So in a stroke of genius I used my Nivea hand cream on it (my hands get dry quickly and I hate the feeling of it).

Now once I have used it once I have realized my skin is actually dry on my face I just couldn't feel it because I was used to it.

(Happened with my dry eye too lol. The doc was like hey your eyes are really dry don't you feel it. And when I used the drops I was like ohh you are right!!)

So I started to use it more (it's actually good for every part of your skin people just use it for their hands)

Anyways it cleared most of my acne. I have like one and that's also barely surviving.

[antarax]

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

It's late at night when Damian makes a stop by your house with the intention to confess his feelings for you.

Damian Wayne x Black!Reader, gender neutral.

Words: 2,105

AN: Happy Valentine’s to all the beautiful black people in the fandom!! I dedicate this one to all of us, who rarely get any works that include us or are actually vague enough to. Hope you enjoy it 💞

It was a quiet, cold night in Gotham. Neon city lights blurred into your room as the muffled sounds of the videogame on the old TV kept you company, the blue hue of the fluorescent lights washing over your bedroom even through half-pulled curtains. 

The day had been a slow and uneventful one. For you, at least, after the hope of receiving someone's valentine had been completely blown off, the same energy manifesting itself in you as the night also dragged itself along. 

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of your window opening, having had no expectations of anything more for the day –that, and the fact that it was well into the night already. You saw Damian standing outside with his hand on the window sill, a bag in the other, Robin uniform dirty and tattered as his cape fluttered violently with the breeze. 

He seemed stuck in his place, as if he had been the one surprised, frowning like he hadn't expected you in your own room. 

The slight semblance of a smile grew on your face, "Well, come in," you said, pausing the game. 

It wasn't uncommon for Damian to stop by your building after a busy night, the moon shining beautifully in the sky and the clouds a beautiful swirl of the light as he came through your window expertly quiet. But, even then with the known comfortability and trust you two had managed to reach in your relationship, it also wasn't uncommon to feel like remnants of the younger, more insecure Damian still clung to him slightly. 

Slightly as in  heavily. 

You watched him as he moved into the small space and set down the bag on the floor, taking off his gloves and mask with the rough delicacy you associated with him. 

He stood as if he was tightly wound up, like perhaps he could breathe wrong, or whatever new, unspoken rule he'd created for himself plagued his mind now. 

It was a little funny. 

"I'm not going to eat you, you know?" 

Damian rolled his eyes, "I'm aware." 

"Doesn't look like it," You muttered, glancing down at the controller in your hands, "What's in the bag anyways?" 

"I— Things." 

You raised a brow. 

"Food, sweets. Drinks." 

"Really?" 

"Yes," Damian replied, sitting down and sagging against the wall underneath the windowsill, chest rising and falling slowly as he exhaled deeply. Damian grabbed the bag again, putting it down next to you, "They're yours." 

You set aside the controller and rummaged through the bag, the thoughts racing in your head. Damian knew you well and you him, your friendship spanning over a few years now. There had been a lot you'd trusted him with. Secrets, worries, embarrassing shit you'd done that still haunted you and Damian had been no different. He let you in on his bigger secret, how he carried the mantle of Robin every night. Some of his deepest remorses were ones that you had knowledge of; although never diving too deep in the murky waters of Damian’s life, you still valued the clear trust he had in you. 

And along all these moments, every opportunity you've had to know each other, slowly and softly peeling aside the layers covering the people you were, a warm intimacy rooted itself in your growing friendship. A comfortable sort of intimacy. 

Every once in a while you stopped by the manor on the quiet days where it was only Alfred and the animals. You helped Alfred in the kitchen whenever he was practicing for a new recipe or baking a dessert for the family later in the day. You spent hours with Damian in his room, where his cat Alfred would always curl up next to you on his bed as he worked on his art, walking around the manor or playing around with Titus and Batcow in the manor's backyard –which, really, was just an enormous open field that they were too humble to call so– and sometimes you'd even earn an invitation to dinner. 

As for you, Damian tended to visit at night more so than day, but there were moments where he would show up on a sunny afternoon when everyone else wasn't home, slumping down on your couch for an hour or two before going back to his own things. Sometimes he'd drop by books he'd seen at the library, a small trinket he'd bought at the store and various other paraphernalia that, somehow, you always ended up loving. 

Damian knew your taste well, and there was no doubt he'd spend countless amounts of time pondering over each of his gifts before they ever reached your hands. All things that while anyone else might have brushed over you appreciated immensely. 

"You know," you began as you leaned back into the foot of your bed, ripping off pieces from a napkin you'd taken out of the bag, buying time. Hesitating, "I actually— sort of, was hoping for a valentine this year." 

You gazed at Damian's eyes, your interest boring into them, digging as deep as you were allowed. They looked nervous, hilariously so. Almost like he'd been caught. But caught... doing what, exactly? 

Perhaps caught in the middle of staring back at you as he'd tend to do; how he'd tend to do and assumed you didn't notice. 

Or maybe caught when he would discreetly drop off something in your room or your locker after having seen it at the store or the cafeteria and knowing immediately you'd like it, always behind the guise of simple complacency. Caught, in his true intentions, what truly made him do all these otherwise insignificant things that were much too small even for somebody as detail-driven as Damian. 

Olive-colored eyes still shifted uncomfortably in front of you as the sole giveaway of the true nervousness Damian was drowning in, refusing to show anything more of himself, even when it mattered. 

Especially when it mattered. It was frustrating. 

"You were?" 

"Yeah," You shifted in your spot, "I was." 

No one could ever, ever know something about Damian that he didn't share. It's just not something you could do. Not when it came to him. Anybody who knew anything at all about who Damian Wayne is, at his core in existence, knows it only because he's allowed them to. 

And he'd allowed you to know this too, and yet now he was hesitating. 

"You wished to have... a valentine. Anyone?" 

"Anyone." 

"You could have, easily, if you wanted it," Damian rolled his eyes. 

"I could?" You smiled, and the twinkle in your eyes was nothing short of mischievous. 

"Yes." 

"Reeeally. How?" 

Damian slouched against the wall, "Well, you'd simply have to ask," he said it as if it had been an obvious fact, "I'm sure anyone at the academy would've said yes." 

Your smile widened as you raised your brows, "Oh?" 

Damian frowned, "You are making fun of me." 

"What do you mean? How." 

Damian crossed his arms as you laughed. 

"You think I'm making fun of you," you protested, "I'm not." 

"TT." 

"There's something you want to say, isn't there? Just spit it out, Damian." 

Damian's eyes lingered all over the room. His hands had started to sweat a while ago and by then, his heart had sped up so much he was sure it was making some attempt at breaking through and out of his chest. 

Originally, his plan had been to drop by and bring you a gift, but then he'd gotten nervous and internally malfunctioned, because he'd bought a double of everything so that you wouldn't assume it had been a gift and instead just him coming by to hang out like he always did. 

He had planned to come by, tell you he'd... harbored a few unwanted feelings towards you and hoped you would have been tired enough that you wouldn't have realized it, but clearly, his plan had flipped over backwards and blown up in his face. 

Damian took as deep a breath as possible with his collar putting him in a choke hold, as if trying to push out his words while simultaneously wanting to keep them buried the deepest he could. 

"I— hm," He stared intently at the floor, for the first time in a while feeling like the small child who would trip over his own emotions again, but he was resolved to tell you, "I like you. I suppose." 

It hadn't been surprising to Damian. More that it was hard to accept. He'd mulled over it for a long, long time. In fact, the reason he'd visited you tonight, made up his mind to tell you so, had been his ridiculously embarrassing performance. 

Being surprised by petty thieves and thrown out of the loop by measly codes, none of which happen, ever, not to him at least. Damian was far above such childish mistakes, at least so he thought until he started taking a closer look at his own thoughts and realized your eyes had gone from brown to 'beautiful pools of honey', your skin a beautiful, shining shade of brown. 

He was an artist, after all. He'd spent afternoons studying his environment, the shapes and colors, how everything fit in together; you were no stranger to his thoughts. 

Which of course, you wouldn't know. If you had, you would have taken the jump much earlier. You would have never acted based off of assumption alone, but having the confirmation, well. 

By now you had to contain your smile because surely, surely, your cheeks would be sore afterwards. 

"Wow," you raised your brows in obvious mocking, "Really?" 

Damian scrunched up his face in disgust, like he'd witnessed the most foul thing yet, crossing his arms tighter but refusing to meet your gaze as he turned to the wall. 

"You know, Damian." 

"Yes?" 

"The valentine I was hoping for this year… was yours. You could've easily made a card and thrown some glitter over it and that would be the end of that." 

"A card, with glitter?" Damian snapped his head at you, seeming almost bored as he spoke in a deadpan voice, "Is that how lowly you think of me?" 

At this you did laugh, almost too loudly for one in the morning, that you had to push both your hands against your mouth. 

Damian frowned, "Please do know that if I were to ever make something so miserable, it must be because I've been replaced. Which would not happen. Ever." 

You stood, shuffling over to Damian and sitting down next to him. 

He looked pretty underneath the moonlight coming through the window, the curls over his forehead looking soft and shiny. 

Damian looked right into your eyes, for the first time that night not looking away, he was trapped now. Not truly, he could leave, but did he want to? Not at all. 

Softly, Damian touched your hand, something perhaps akin to fear in his eyes as if he still expected rejection. 

"Damian?" 

"Hm?" 

"I'm going to kiss you." 

"Oh." 

"Unless you don’t want me to." 

"Please do. I mean—" 

It was a shy and quick kiss, but so, so exciting as Damian's grip tightened around your hand and you leaned into him. 

When you leaned away, it was with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

"Please do—" 

Damian frowned again, clearly not amused. After a few seconds though, your laugh died out. Truth is, your stomach was churning. Because, while you were very much happy and excited, you were also incredibly nervous. 

Both of you were stitching your thoughts back together, seconds of silence passing by. You were still holding Damian's hand. 

He closed his eyes, frown deepening considerably and quickly before he spoke, vile spilling out of his mouth, "A card? With some glitter thrown over it?" 

He looked downright furious, disgusted even. 

"Seriously?" 

"It's not that big of a deal," You chuckled, "Get over it." 

"Hm." 

Damian looked out the window, and you followed, the moon standing beautifully in the middle of the sky. 

Damian sighed, "I have to go." 

"Oh... okay." 

He didn't move. Neither of you did. 

Damian gave you a quick kiss again, looking absolutely scandalized when he pulled back. You stared at each other in complete disbelief before he stood up and started putting his gloves on again. 

He pressed his hands onto the windowsill and took a deep breath.

Damian looked at you, tenderly, "Goodnight, Y/N." 

"Goodnight, Damian." You smiled. 

Damian gave you a small smile, "Hm." 

You watched as he jumped off, grappling to the nearest building and laughed when you saw him standing still before disappearing into the night. 

[jaskiersvalley]

Look I knew from things my friend reblogged that you have A Gift but now I'm following you and crying every time you post because it is ALWAYS top quality and I am but a poor little goblin with Feelings. You are my favorite and I love you. (also "oh what a hairy valley it is" is fucking hilarious I laugh every time I read it)

You are my new favourite and I love you too! Especially because you find “oh what a hairy valley it is” funny. As thanks, I hope you like a bit of a twist on the Witcher Wolf Pack and their Bard in a modern setting.

Street life was harsh but the wolves had learned how to play the game over the decades. Witchers had become nothing more than myths and they had died out. Or rather, they faded from visible existence and found ways to get with the times. But nobody really wanted grizzly, musclebound men with facial scars so the wolves of Kaer Morhen were left behind by society. It wasn’t like they could get paperwork and ID needed for work and rent, so they lived on the fringes, accepted the ‘help’ of a sorcerer. It wasn’t much better, living on the streets as wolves most idiots mistook for large dogs. But at least they could slink around relatively undisturbed. They could shift forms as they needed but most of the time, they remained four legged.

They had a whole system worked out, honourable as much as thieves could be. Because they needed to steal, needed food and money to survive. The back alley that they’d pulled blankets and cardboard boxes to had become home. But they couldn’t live off things they fished out of the dumpster all the time. It was how they ended up with a range of schemes and ploys.

Easiest was the sad, scared puppy game. It was one that Lambert excelled at, looking vulnerable. If he rolled in a puddle first, he could look exceptionally pitiful. His scars showed up the least too and, as the youngest, he often got the most response. Some days he would hang around outside a food shop and whimper at those going in. The more generous humans would emerge with their shopping plus a little something for him. When something was thrown his way, Lambert would snatch it out of the air and run, hide the stash until he could haul his trophies home to share.

More elaborate was the teamwork of Vesemir and Eskel. They didn’t pull it off often because it was much more dangerous for them both. At some traffic lights where cars were slowing down, Eskel would step in front of a car and get clipped. He’d perfected the art of just getting a glancing bruise on his shoulder but it sounded impressive enough. Once the car stopped, Vesemir, in his grizzled old glory, would fling himself in front of the car with a whimpering howl. That usually got everyone’s attention, the poor old dog, shaking and quivering on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Eskel to shift to human form and dive into the car, pulling anything of value out. They had to be so careful, not taking anything from those who obviously were in need. That was on top of the constant worry that Eskel could actually get hurt or Vesemir would get carted off to the pound. But the few times they did it, they often got enough things to pawn or, once, a shopping bag full of party food.

Geralt was too bulky to look sad in front of a shop, he got chased with a broom more often than not. He also didn’t have Eskel’s light fingers to steal from cars or Vesemir’s gravitas to look convincingly injured. What he could do though was pickpocket and steal bags. It was so easy to walk pad through a square, a stray dog nobody paid attention to. A snout in a passing pocket resulted in a mouthful of wallet. And the times someone put a bag down to look at their phone or, rarely, to pet him, he could pick up the bag and trot off without much fuss. The other thing Geralt did was trail buskers. He learned about them, knew those who were busking for fun and those who needed the coins tossed at them. Those who did it for a hobby, Geralt had no qualms about ambling up to and snuffling their things. It usually earned him a pat on the head and a laugh. It meant he could curl up with whoever it was playing and, at the end of their stint, Geralt could snuffled a little more under the pretence of curiosity. Nobody ever thought to look in his mouth to find the coins they could have sworn were there.

It was a great ploy until a new busker turned up. Geralt couldn’t get a read on him. The man looked and acted like a peacock but he smelled tired and hurting. Before Geralt could even approach him to investigate, the man was setting his instrument to the side and reaching out in invitation for Geralt to join him.

“You might need a bit of rest.” The man said and pulled a water bottle from his pack. Shoving his handwritten sign of gratitude from the plastic container, it was filled up with water instead. “It’s a warm day, I doubt there are puddles around for you.”

It turned out, the man chattered a lot when he wasn’t playing. He was called Jaskier, had no real family to speak of and loved singing. There was an art to speaking a lot without saying much and Geralt knew Jaskier was a master. In the evening, when Jaskier packed up, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to take any of his coin.

“If you’re ever in the area, you’ll always have a blanket to rest on with me,” Jaskier promised and waved to Geralt. It was only then that Geralt realised that not once did Jaskier touch him.

Once a week, Geralt sought Jaskier out. It was oddly relaxing and on his third visit, Geralt found he had actually fallen into a deep sleep, trusting this stranger to keep him protected. Of course, the others teased him about it relentlessly. Late at night when they were all sprawled in their alley with a rare treat of beer Eskel had managed to snag, they laughed about Geralt’s crush.

“Fine. You go see if you can do better,” he grumbled.

From then on, the wolves took turns and each came back suitably cowed. Eskel had taken the first chance to go see Jaskier for himself. He’d come back subdued and quiet. “He told be about his White Wolf,” he’d said. “How I must be his brother because I’m just as handsome.”

There was nothing handsome about Eskel, or so he thought. His scarring in wolf and human form had his lip pulled up and, as a wolf, he looked like he was continually snarling, teeth bared.

“He wasn’t scared,” Eskel whispered in wonder.

Unable to believe it all, Lambert went to see Jaskier next. He only came back late at night and refused to say anything. It was only later the next night that he whispered to Eskel that he’d tried to goad Jaskier into hurting him, to prove a point. And he got belly rubs instead. Which were a lot nicer than anything Lambert had experienced in a long time, so he had to slink off and think for a few hours before returning home.

Vesemir still had his doubts. His three pups might have been taken in by the singing stranger but he was suspicious. Determined to get to the bottom of their infatuation, Vesemir set out to spy on Jaskier. It didn’t go as well as planned because he was spotted and beckoned over. Even worse, there were freshly bought treats in Jaskier’s pocket, coming out to appease him.

“You look like you could be their father,” Jaskier prattled, handing over another treat. “The same noble, ancient look they’ve got. Living on the streets is no easy feat and I imagine you’ve done it your whole lives. But your pack seem wonderful. You ought to be proud of your boys.”

Vesemir would have thought it all some great, cunning plan were it not for the fact that he could smell the street on Jaskier. Obviously he’d been sleeping in hostels or the like until recently. And yet there he was with the best treats he could afford for a bunch of stray dogs who he knew to be wolves.

From then on, Jaskier enjoyed the company of a wolf beside him for four of the seven days of the week. Geralt slept on the blanket, running and eating in his sleep. By contrast, Lambert was needy, demanding attention and petting, constantly by Jaskier’s feet. Eskel liked to lie calmly and watch, sometimes he’d howl along and get laughs. Occasionally trotting off and coming back with a snack or a drink for them, clutched carefully in his mouth. The first time he presented Jaskier with a sandwich, he man had looked both scandalised and then blissed out as he bit into it like he was starving. Vesemir was by far the calmest, he watched Jaskier rather than the crowds around them, keeping track of how things changed.

“He sleeps on the streets,” he told his pups one night. “I worry for him.”

They couldn’t find Jaskier though, it was a large city and there were a lot of places to hide. By pure luck, they were settling down into a tangle of limbs, tails and fur when they heard voices.

“Just hand it over and you’ll live.” A menacing voice growled.

“I can’t give you that. It’s how I make what little money I have. I’ve already offered you everything I can!” That was definitely Jaskier.

“Along these parts, our word is law. You’ve not paid your dues and now we’re raising fees.”

There was the soft thump of someone being struck and the smell of blood. The wolves were up on their feet as one, quietly padding closer to investigate. Jaskier was on his knees, guitar behind him along with his usual pack which looked like it had been rifled through already. Opposite him were three men, one of them with a nail studded baseball bat.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” the man snarled and raised the bat. It arced through the air and there was the sound of it striking flesh and a sharp whine of a wolf in pain rang through the alley.

“What the fuck?”

Geralt was laid flat on the floor and panting, white fur staining red. The other three wolves were snapping and growling at the attackers while Jaskier knelt and watched in awe. Lambert jumped first, jaw latching around the wrist holding the bat and shaking his head.

In two minutes, the attackers were running, bleeding and cursing and the alley was silent save for the panting of the wolves. Eskel and Vesemir shared a look as they approached Geralt. They shifted, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Jaskier.

“You need to shift, pup,” Vesemir stroked over Geralt’s head. “Let us get a better look.”

It took a moment longer but Geralt was human once again and wheezing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands clenched in fists.

“Let them sort it,” Lambert murmured from just behind Jaskier, making him jump. “It’ll be okay. Geralt’s just a drama queen.”

“A drama queen with broken ribs,” Eskel grumbled. “At least the nails didn’t puncture his lung.”

In all of that, Jaskier was quiet and surprisingly unafraid. Puzzled, most definitely but he didn’t panic or run.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, soft and worried.

“He’s a strong one, survived a lot worse.” The reassurance from Vesemir lifted a little of the tension. “Why aren’t you running and screaming?”

“Why should I? You saved my life and you’re the wolves I’ve known for weeks now. It’s nice that you can talk back now.”

That seemed to settle matters somehow. And the wolves got a fourth act in their repertoire. Now, Jaskier sang and busked with the protection of a wolf by his side at all times. And, when he returned back to the alley, he always shared his bounty with the others.

“And when I get famous, you’re all coming with me. We’ll tour the world together,” he promised each night from the centre of the wolf pile. It usually earned at least one tail thump or a chuffed out wolf-y laugh. The wolves might have indulged him in such fantasies but they were the ones who had to eat their words. A talent scout did indeed pick Jaskier up. Along with his four wolves who became his bodyguards.

Part 2 here.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens Secret Santa 2020 - “Lights Will Guide You Home” (Rated PG13)

Summary: While watching the kids for the night, Crowley takes them all on an adventure, which includes a trip to the states to look at the Christmas lights. He drives them around to see bigger and gaudier displays, but Aziraphale is a little confused when he finally gets to see Crowley's favorite. (1556 words)

Notes: Written for Micha (@one-with-the-floor) as part of the Good Omens Secret Santa 2020 gift exchange.

Read on AO3.

"How about this one, kids? This might be the brightest one yet! ... Kids? ... Kids?" Crowley looks in his rearview mirror and scowls. "Oi! When did the little buggers fall asleep?" 

Aziraphale turns away from his window and the house beyond covered in every twinkle light available on the Eastern Seaboard (he suspects) and gives Crowley a confused look. Then, remembering that they aren't alone in Crowley's Bentley, he peeks over at the seat behind them, where five children snore softly, heads leaning on shoulders, fast asleep. "About five houses ago, I believe? Give or take? That's the last time I heard any ooo'ing or ahh'ing."

"Which house was that?"

"The one with the nativity scene made up of inflatable dragons breathing fire and wearing Santa caps."

Crowley's brow draws together as he tries to recall. "Oh, yeah. Right." He looks over his shoulder so he can see the pile of children properly: Warlock dressed in his stiff new Christmas suit, Adam a bit less formal in khakis and a pale blue polo, the rest of The Them a hodgepodge of wrinkled trousers, thick-soled shoes, and shirts of various fit alongside Pepper's red velvet gown, which her parents forced her to wear (a fact she stated numerous times throughout the evening) and which she accessorized with a faux leather jacket and a bulky pair of Doc Martens. "What's the deal with them knocking out so early? They're kids! They're supposed to be boundless founts of energy, aren't they?"

"Early? It's close to one in the morning!"

"Yes, but if you take into consideration the clan of gingerbread people they decimated, then washed down with a gallon of cocoa, they should be bouncing off the ceiling! We've been out for, what? An hour? Two?"

"Try four," Aziraphale says, checking his watch to be sure. "Did you have to miracle us all the way to the states?"

"Yes," Crowley says definitively. "They do Christmas a little differently out here. Bigger. More grandiose."

"That's an understatement," Aziraphale mutters as they pass a house so festooned with lights and animatronic creatures, he can't see the structure they're affixed to. "As is, I'm not sure how exactly you're getting away with miracling the lot of us abroad."

"When Hell finds out I used my magic to take five children across borders without passports, they'll be ecstatic!"

"But will Warlock's parents? Or Adam's?"

"Who's going to tell them?" Crowley shoots his angel a significant look, but Aziraphale matches it, arms crossed over his chest, glaring sternly, and Crowley backs down. "Look, their parents ditched them with us so that they could go off drinking and regaling and having a good time."

"Ditched them?" Aziraphale chuckles at Crowley's skewed point of view. "We offered!"

"And we promised these kids a good time!"

"You definitely delivered," Aziraphale says, smiling at his memories of their night: the snowball fight that ended with them crashing an outdoor service; the horde of snow zombies they built in the yards of a quiet and unsuspecting neighborhood; the hills they zipped down using trashcan lids as sleighs. Aziraphale was horrified by most of these to begin with, but that didn't last. Not when he saw how thoroughly the children enjoyed themselves. 

Crowley, too. 

But driving around, looking at lights? That was an unexpectedly tame suggestion. And Crowley was rather insistent. "But why did you want us to see Christmas lights?"

"Because it's important."

"How?"

"This is the only time of year you get to see this," Crowley explains, gesturing vaguely.

"And what's that? Enough wattage to coax down passing aircraft? Or are you perhaps referring to the eight-foot Santa mooning passersby?"

"No," Crowley replies. But that Santa was hilarious! The children spotted him from miles away and made Crowley drive over. They spent a good fifteen minutes pointing and laughing, making the kinds of off-colored jokes that make parents shush! But more hilarious was his angel's scandalized reaction - his dramatic tut, followed by an even more dramatic, "God Lord." "Humanity." Crowley sighs. "I know I talk a lot about Christmas becoming vulgar and over-commercialized. And come the day after, it'll be back to the business of not giving a shite about their fellow man, trampling each other in the shops to get the most ridiculous garbage at seventy-five percent off ..."

"Something you earned a commendation for, if I recall," Aziraphale points out.

"... but when humans light their houses like this, invite their neighbors to gather 'round, they're saying 'All are welcome! Stop on by! Let's celebrate together!'"

"To me, it's more like they're saying, 'Look at me! Look at all of this useless bother I own! Who cares that I'm diverting migratory birds from their destinations? Astronauts can see my house from space!'"

"Agree to disagree then," Crowley grumbles, then goes silent, and Aziraphale knows he's teased one step too far.

"The children falling asleep will make it easier to transport them," Aziraphale says, easing into a new subject until he can think of a way to apologize. "We can miracle them into their beds when we get back to the Dowling's. Then we can do a little regaling of our own."

Crowley grins. He can't stay stung by his angel forever. He's just too sentimental tonight to have a sense of humor. "Sounds about perfect. Been a while since I've done any regaling."

"Tonight's as good a time as any to start."

Crowley turns down a street with fewer lights and no neighbors milling about, preparing to snap them back to London. "Which house was your favorite?"

"Oh, none of these," Aziraphale says snobbishly. "I'm not the biggest fan of modern-day extravagance. I would have to say my favorite out of all the displays was that abbey down by the river: fairy lights reflecting off the water; tasteful nativity out front; evergreen trimmed with simple decorations - wooden star atop, red velvet bows, paper angels ..."

"Leave it to you to choose the one holy place we found, and only because we took a wrong turn."

Aziraphale wiggles happily in his seat. "You know what they say - there are no accidents."

"Yup. And four rights make a left."

Aziraphale pulls a face. "I ... don't think that's correct ..."

"Don't matter." Crowley turns in his seat, looks at his angel. "Do you wanna see my favorite?"

Aziraphale smiles, all thoughts of turns shelved for the moment. "Of course." "Alright. It's back in our neck of the woods, so hold on tight."

Aziraphale reaches to the side, takes Crowley's free hand in his, gives it a squeeze. "Ready."

Crowley snaps his fingers. 

For a single second, the world stops. 

A bright light surrounds the Bentley, engulfs it in its brilliance. In the amount of time it takes for Crowley's fingers to slide across one another, they're home. 

Aziraphale blinks, looks about as his eyes adjust to the lower light. He expected to see a house pulsating with a glow equal to a thousand suns outside his window, maybe with Virgin Mary riding a motorbike behind the abominable snowman while the angel Gabriel wrestles an alligator. But the shapes around him are familiar. His brow wrinkles as he tries to understand what he's seeing. They're not just back in London, they're in Soho.

Right outside his shop. 

"Which one is it?" Aziraphale looks up and down the block at darkened storefronts, most of them as frugally adorned as his own - a rope of garland, a wreath, a silver bell or two, but nothing special. Nothing noteworthy. Nothing even close to the houses they spent the night ogling. 

"This one right here." Crowley points past Aziraphale toward a set of wooden double doors.

Aziraphale frowns. "But ... that's my bookshop."

"A-ha."

"I didn't do much in the way of decorating."

"I know."

"And I don't like when people stop in, so it's not as if I'm encouraging my neighbors to gather."

"Know that, too."

"So, why is it your favorite?"

"Because ..." Crowley scoots across the seat, puts an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders "... it's home."

"You consider a dusty old bookshop home? When you own that mansion of a flat in Mayfair?"

"You consider the bookshop your home, don't you?"

"Yes, but that's because my books are there, my liquor cabinet, my snuff boxes - everything I'm fond of. Everything I adore."

"What a coincidence. Because everything I'm fond of ... everything I adore ... is at your shop."

"And what would that be?" Aziraphale asks sarcastically. "My bottle of Hennessy Paradis Imperial?"

"No. You, you pair of walnuts," a grumpy Warlock responds in Crowley's stead.  

Crowley glares at his young charge over his shoulder. "Rude."

"Look, could you guys take us home first and then make out?" Adam asks.

"Yeah," Pepper agrees. "My entire body is numb except for my right eyelid."

"Plus, listening to adults flirt kind of grosses me out," Brian adds, the rest mumbling in agreement.

"Alright, alright," Crowley growls, sliding back into his seat and putting the car into drive. "We'll drive you ankle-biters home, and then ..."

"We regale! Which I'm confident will include plenty of 'making out'? Right, my dear?"

"Absolutely," Crowley says with a smirk. Aziraphale snorts when their cluster of pre-teens groan.

"I think we're making them uncomfortable, angel." 

"Serves them right," Aziraphale says, straightening in his seat. "I could have happily gone on for another six thousand years without seeing Santa Claus's rear end. Vengeance is mine."

[clumsyclifford]

hi bella i'm here bc t-shirt by thomas rhett w jalex?????? totally not bc we're listening to the song and have the same brain???? never??? not at all??? ok ily bye

sam the fact that you will just indulge me like this...........i adore you. anyway here’s some thomas rhett jalex to soothe your soul thank you for asking me to write this after i told you i wanted to write it dlgkmdfklgmfj

ao3 link!

-

Jack has a table when Alex arrives. 

“Hey, hey, hot stuff,” he hears, and looks up to see Alex leaning over the patio fence.

“Wow, and only ten minutes late,” Jack says, making a show of checking the time on his phone. He gives Alex his most look-how-impressed-I-am face.

Alex laughs and reaches through the fence to poke at Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll be in in a sec,” he says, and then retreats to go around front. Jack figures he can wait a little longer. Alex will probably stop in the bathroom before he joins Jack at the table, anyway.

A few minutes pass, and then someone tugs gently at Jack’s ear, so Jack puts his phone away, this time for good, and turns a smile to Alex.

Alex looks good. He always looks good, would look good even in a paper bag, even in nothing at all (especially then), but there’s something about the all-black combination that makes Jack’s heart race. Clothes were invented, Jack decides, to be worn by Alex. All clothes.

Leather jackets in particular.

“Hi,” Alex says warmly (he’s trying not to say it warmly but Jack knows he can’t help it), before dipping his head to kiss Jack. “How was work?”

Jack smiles. He always smiles around Alex. He’s probably in love with Alex, but in a relationship this young it’s hard to say, and Jack falls so easily it’s actually ridiculous. The words taste sweet under his tongue, so he leaves them there for the moment. For whatever it’s worth, he imagines he’ll have many days on which to share them.

“Fine,” is what he says instead, as Alex sits down. “Some of this paperwork is going to be the death of me, but you don’t want to hear about that.”

“I do,” Alex insists.

Jack shakes his head. “I promise you, you do not. I was telling Zack about it on my lunch break and I’m pretty sure he fell asleep.”

Alex chuckles. “Well, Zack’s not your boyfriend.”

“That you know of.” Jack waggles his eyebrows. It makes Alex laugh, which is always the goal, and Jack laughs too, mostly to show that he’s joking, but also because Alex’s laugh makes Jack laugh. 

“Fair enough,” Alex concedes. “Well, lucky for you it’s Friday, so no more work.”

“It’s Friday for you too.”

“Yeah, but I have lesson plans to draw up, papers to grade, et cetera.”

Jack squints. “Do you…do you think I don’t have work to do over the weekend?”

“Gonna be honest, I still don’t fully understand your job,” Alex says good-naturedly. 

Jack grins. “That’s okay,” he says. “You look amazing tonight.”

It makes Alex look down at himself, only to look back up at Jack, and under the multicolored string lights of the patio (why are there still Christmas lights up in June?), Jack can see a blush rising. “Thanks,” he says. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Thank you,” Jack says. It’s just his work suit. Their date night restaurant is within walking distance of Jack’s office, for convenience reasons, and Jack is still in his suit for the same reason. “I thought I’d make a bit of an effort, you know. Once in a while.”

“Well, if you set the bar low, you can only ever really surpass expectations,” Alex points out. Jack claps triumphantly.

“Exactly!”

The waitress approaches then, asking for drinks orders and informing them of their deal on appetizers, two for the price of one. Jack orders a beer and Alex gets water, because he’s driving, and as the waitress leaves, they decide almost without conversing that they’ll be taking extreme advantage of the two-for-one deal. 

For the rest of dinner they make small talk, except it’s not really small talk, because Jack cares so much to hear about the inane things Alex’s students have done that day; he’s been dying for an update on the gossip about the history teacher and the math teacher, and gasps when Alex shares how a student actually asked Mr. Hood if Mr. Clifford was his boyfriend. (“I’ve literally never seen Calum speechless like that,” Alex says, smirking. “It was almost hilarious.”) It doesn’t feel like small talk to hear about Alex’s day and to talk about his own, because Alex’s eyes are trained on Jack with so much focus that Jack feels like he’s explaining something much more complex and profound than just the broken coffee machine in the break room at work. It would be small talk if they had nothing else to talk about, but they have, and just aren’t; for two hours, while they slowly work their way through their own food and each other’s (Jack shamelessly nicking mozzarella sticks off Alex’s plate), they just catch up.

Jack is probably a bit tipsy as they reach the end of the meal. After Alex pays — immune to Jack’s myriad efforts to stop him, including but not limited to stealing his wallet — they sit at a mostly cleared table, waiting for the check to come back, and Jack stares at Alex. He finds himself doing it more often lately, and he can’t put a finger on why, except that Alex is so goddamn pretty it’s impossible not to stare.

“What?” Alex says, bracing his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. He leans forward. “What are you lookin’ at?”

Jack folds his arms over the table in front of him and mirrors Alex. “You’ve got something on your face,” he says. Alex starts, frowns; Jack giggles. “I’m teasing. You don’t. You’re just so fucking good-looking. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

The blush from before returns with a vengeance. “Careful,” Alex says lightly. “Talk like that might get you into trouble.”

“Are you trouble?”

Alex doesn’t waver. “I might be.”

“That’s where I wanna be, then.” Jack grins. “You wanna come over after?”

“No way,” Alex says, but he’s lying, or joking. There’s a glimmer in his eye that might just be the ridiculous Christmas lights, but Jack has seen it before. “I’ve seen your place. You messy bastard.”

“Hey, I cleaned!” Jack protests. It’s stupid, but he had, and not just because he’d hoped to bring Alex back with him tonight. (Okay, mostly for that reason.)

Alex laughs and pulls Jack into a kiss across the table, and it settles in Jack’s sternum, warmth throughout his chest. He can tell Alex is holding back, and he likes it. 

“Fine,” Alex says, as they break. “Twist my arm. I’ll come over.”

“Yeah, you will,” Jack says, smirking, and just then the waitress returns with the check.

-

They don’t even make it to the landing.

Well, they do, but clumsily, with a lot of tripping and almost-falling. Jack’s not sure if he’s holding tight to Alex so they don’t have to stop kissing or because he’s legitimately afraid to fall over. He’s mostly sober, just tipsy enough that he’s laughing at things that aren’t that funny, like when they reach Jack’s door and Jack realizes he’s forgotten to get his keys out. 

“Shit,” he giggles, and instead of searching for them he just kisses Alex again. Alex is no help at all; he melts into it like every other one, arms securely around Jack’s waist. For a minute Jack forgets that this is supposed to be the beginning of the night, and not the end. Alex’s hands find their meandering way up the back of Jack’s shirt, and Jack makes a quiet noise at the cold of his fingertips against Jack’s skin. He pushes gently at Alex’s chest. “Okay,” he says, slightly sobered, “let me get the door open, you impatient fucker.”

Alex just gives him a cheeky smile and leans in for one more kiss. It’s really fucking hard to turn Alex down, and for a second Jack wonders if he should even bother. Then he feels Alex’s hand dip into his back pocket, and when Alex pulls away this time he’s holding Jack’s keys.

“Too slow,” he says, mouth curling into an enticing smirk. 

Jack shakes his head. “Your fault,” he says as Alex unlocks the door, admitting them both to the apartment. The keys clatter as they land on the dining room table; Jack’s going to forget they’re there later, and Alex will inevitably remember. Both of them kick off their shoes somewhere in the general direction of the front door, and by that time Jack’s grown impatient himself. When Alex looks first at Jack and then past him to the bedroom, a question in his eyes that’s also an answer, Jack wastes no time.

It’s messy, but it’s always messy; Jack loves that about Alex, that he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, to play rough and leave Jack satisfied but wanting more. Anyway, Jack feels they’ve earned the right to be a little messy. Alex is a middle school teacher, and Jack’s working an office job, for fuck’s sake; if Alex wants to be the reason for wrinkles in Jack’s shirt, Jack’s in favor of that.

After, Alex cuddles himself into Jack’s chest, face pressed into Jack’s neck, trying to absorb Jack’s warmth. Jack doesn’t have control over the air conditioning in his building, and as a result it’s always either slightly too cold or hot. In summer months it’s the former, and Alex isn’t wearing a shirt, which is probably lending to the chill. Jack could suggest that Alex get dressed, but he likes Alex like this, clingy and cuddly, leeching heat out of Jack’s skin. Alex runs cold, unfortunately for him, but Jack runs warm. 

(It’s just another way they’re perfect for each other. Jack keeps running into them, the things that make Alex and Jack complementary, like how Jack doesn’t like pickles and Alex does, or how they don’t share any of the same favorite breakfast cereals so they’d never eat the other’s, or the fact that somehow, having held hands with many people in his life, Jack’s never felt his fingers fit as well as they do between Alex’s. Maybe he’s just romantic, but fuck if he doesn’t feel like he and Alex belong together.)

“You could put a shirt on,” Jack murmurs, pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead, after Alex shivers and curls tighter against Jack.

“Boring,” comes Alex’s muffled voice. It sends a buzz through Jack’s skin. “Zero points for creativity.”

Jack laughs. “Come on, Al, you’re freezing. Take one of mine.” Alex makes a noise of protest. Jack gently pats his back. “Alex, you’re a big boy. Don’t be stubborn.”

“Your mom’s a big boy,” Alex says, but he rolls away and, with a great dramatic sigh, crosses to Jack’s dresser to rifle through his t-shirt drawer. “Any suggestions?”

“I suggest you put a shirt on.”

Alex shoots him a look. “Duh.” He pulls out one of Jack’s Orioles t-shirts and grins. “Oh, this is it for sure.”

Alex pulls the shirt over his head, and when he resurfaces his hair is hopelessly messed up. Jack can’t help but smile at it, at the whole picture. It’s too much for him, Alex in his Orioles t-shirt and boxers with the fucking American flag on them, which is his idea of a joke (and had, of course, made Jack laugh). 

“What?” Alex asks. He does a spin as if showing off the new look, and Jack snorts and shakes his head. “Stop staring at me, you creep.” He takes a running jump towards the bed, landing with a screech beside Jack and crawling over him. Their legs tangle together, and Jack gazes up at Alex, overwhelmed, hoping he never stops feeling overwhelmed by Alex.

“You just look super hot, that’s all,” Jack says gratuitously. His pulse racing, he tugs Alex down into a kiss. Alex goes willingly, and Jack closes his eyes, drowning in everything Alex; the image of Alex twirling around in Jack’s shirt, the cold of Alex’s skin where Jack’s fingertips graze his hips, Alex humming quietly in the back of his throat as he deepens the kiss, Alex’s hand in Jack’s hair, Alex’s cologne permeating the whole room, Alex’s mouth on his, and all of Jack’s senses Alex Alex Alex until nothing else matters, just him and Alex and the universe on pause.

(He almost says it, really, almost ends the kiss with I love you, you know?, but he stops himself. That’s the kind of thing people do when they don’t have the time to wait, and Jack has time. They have all the time in the world.)

[angelsswirl]

Vellichor

The One With Maya's Confession

Notes: If I don't write Vellichor chapters on slap happy whims at 3 am then who am i? Back to Jisoo next chapter! Only 4 (?) more chapters left in this series.😱 Also no one said anything so I assume we like the new format.

Rating: T+

Word Cnt: 1.5k

"They said, 'All teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me'. They could care less as long as someone'll bleed."

Lia eyed Maya oddly, she was letting Lia win at Mario Kart and she never let Lia win at Mario Kart. It was a sort of unspoken agreement they had. Maya won Mario Kart games on the Switch and Lia won FIFA games on the Playstation. It was the only way they could justify purchasing both high-end consoles.

If you asked Lia, she'd tell you that her and Maya had been forced into friendship almost like some sort of medieval betrothal. Their parents were best friends (though that was kind of hard to tell with the way Jisoo and Irene talked to each other) and they were the firsts born, so in their minds it was only natural that their offspring be besties too.

And sure, 19 years later it had worked out for the better. They really were best friends. They told each other everything (within reason).

When Lia had lost her virginity to the Cheerleading captain her junior year, she had practically called Maya before it was even actually over.

And when Maya had gotten peer-pressured by Ryland and Jesse to go to her first house party, then proceeded to get drunk like there was no tomorrow, she called Lia to come pick her up in fear that her mother would definitely murder her. Okay, she called Lia to come get Ryland and Jesse too, but it was mainly about her!

So, Lia knew that look on Maya's face. That look that said I have something I desperately need to get off my chest. That look that said listen and don't comment when I'm done. And it was serving to irritate her that Maya was holding out on her for so long.

"Just say it." Lia murmured just as a blue shell upended her go-kart.

Maya pursed her lips. She listened for their parents. Jisoo and Irene were busy in the bathroom of Lia's and Maya's apartment attempting to fix something they definitely did not know how to fix. She heard Irene curse and knew they would be in there for at least 45 more minutes.

"Hey uh, would you be mad if I slept with your sister?" Maya mumbled, she scratched at her chin awkwardly.

"No, but Taylor would probably beat your ass. And I'd just watch because you'd deserve it and it would be funny." Lia audibly giggled as she imagined the sight.

"...Not Ryland."

Lia's go-kart slowly came to a stop on the screen. And suddenly, Maya was winning again as she desperately pressed accelerate as if she would be able to physically drive away from this conversation.

Lia turned her head toward Maya slowly, "Peyton? My baby sister? My kid fucking sister, Peyton Kim? Who is a baby and a child and evil and younger than you? And - and a kid? That Peyton?! My baby sister?!" 

Both of them are losing at Mario Kart now.

"She's only a year younger than me. She turns 18 literally next week! Why are you so mad?" Maya claimed exasperated.

If Lia knew Maya's "We Need to Talk" look, then Maya definitely knew Lia's "Take a Five Second Headstart" look.

Maya stupidly doesn't take her headstart.

She isn't exactly surprised when Lia tackles her to the carpeted floor. She is surprised by her urge to fight back. She had never really been a fighter, but this feels different. This feels like she's fighting for her omega, which is stupid and out of left field and Peyton isn't even her omega, but she just can't help herself when her fist flies in the direction of Lia's temple.

It missed of course. Like she said, she's never been much of a fighter.

"Maya." Her mother's growl is enough to get her to stop squirming underneath Lia. She mewled and cowered a fair bit. She may be an adult but her mother's growl was literally never not going to terrify her.

Jisoo does the same thing to Lia, but she's just so mad and pent up and everything seems to be falling apart around her that she completely disregarded it.

Jisoo had to more or less put her in a headlock and yank her away from Maya to get her to relax.

"What the hell are you two fighting about?" Jisoo asked as she put Lia on the couch.

"Yeah, Maya what are we fighting about?"

"..."

"That's what I thought." Lia shook her head. She shrugged her mother off of her and hurried out of the front door.

Lia drove around for what felt like a good two hours before coming to a stop in front of a semi-familiar house.

She walked to the front door and knocked hesitantly.

Wendy opened the door with a surprised smile, "Oh, hey Lia. What are you doing here?"

What a great question.

"I-I-I don't know?"

Wendy's eyebrows furrow before she steps to the side. Inviting Lia in silently. Lia doesn't know how to express her gratitude without saying it.

Even though she should be, considering how often he does it at games and practice, she isn't expecting for the small ball of pent up boy energy to come flying at her legs in an attempt at a hug.

"Uh, hey kid." Lia patted him on the back awkwardly. Luckily, he doesn't seem to sense anything is off.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Wendy asked. And Lia could only blink in answer. Wendy was so nice and pretty and considerate and gorgeous. And Lia isn't sure what she ever could have done to deserve to bask in this woman's presence.

"Um, a glass of water would be nice." And Lia didn't plan on drinking it, but she didn't want to be rude. Wendy nodded and gestured for her to sit on the couch in the meantime. And Lia did without question.

Immediately, Kyle seemed to be bored with her presence and went back to doing whatever it was kids his age do when their parents aren't looking.

Wendy handed a glass of water to Lia and sat next to her on the couch.

"Do you want to talk?"

Lia counted the number of ice cubes in her glass exactly six times before speaking.

"I think my life is falling apart." Lia said, counting the ice cubes once more.

Wendy raised an eyebrow at the statement, "How so?"

"Oh. Easy! For starters, my parents haven't spoken to each other in a week and a half. My career was ripped away from me. And I think I just lost my best friend. Somehow, I can't help but feel like it's all my fault." Yes, she originally wasn't going to drink any of the water, but now she feels like she needs to down a few gulps after that revelation.

"Well, those first two things I can almost guarantee aren't your fault. Your parents problems are not yours. And by the way you've talked about them before, I think they'll be alright. Eventually. Also, you had no way of knowing you were going to get sick. Now as far as the last one, I'm going to need more information to explain it away."

"She slept with my sister and like any great alpha big sister, I attempted to kill her."

Lia frowned as Wendy started to laugh hysterically.

"Please don't laugh after I call myself a great alpha."

Wendy swiped at a stray tear, "Sorry but that's hilarious. You got mad at your best friend for sleeping with your sister? The sister who you said yourself has had a crush on said friend since she could walk? You're mad about the inevitable?"

"But-but she's my baby sister!"

"She's not your baby sister. She's your younger sister. Who is pretty much an adult and can make decisions for herself."

"But-"

"No. You've known both of them your entire life. You know that if they decide to date that your sister will be fine. And if something goes wrong, which I'm sure it won't. Maya definitely knows now that Peyton has an older sister that is willing to go to jail to protect her. On that note, I'm sure Ryland's mate knows that too."

"So, what you're saying is that one was my fault?"

Wendy rolled her eyes, "That's not the only thing, but sure."

Lia's nose scrunched up.

"What's this really about, Lia?"

"...I just feel like things are moving without me. Like I've got very little control over what's happening to me."

"That's not true. I'm sure you have the best control. Over a bunch of things that are meant to be controlled by you."

"You're just being nice."

"Maybe. But I'm also right. In fact, I'll prove it to you. Kyle has a boy scout meeting soon. You should stay over."

Lia thinks her throat just closed up. Despite, the fact that she cannot breathe, she manages to push out a response without any hesitation.

"Okay."

[ajokeformur-ray]

(P.1) Hiii! Would you please ship me with Loki, Thranduil, Snape, Hannibal and Sherlock? (Sorry if it's too much) I'm a hetero girl, 26 years old. My biggest dream is to become a university lecturer and I'm working towards this goal, I'm currently working on my dissertation. My Hogwarts house is Slytherin and I'm proud of it (fave Hogwarts subjects include DADA, Potions, Charming). Dedicated to what I do and sometimes I tend to lose track of time when I'm doing university stuff, I can get a bit

(P.2) obsessive with this. I may look like a shy and closed person (which is true because I’m a major introvert) but I’m actually easy to approach and will always be there if someone wants to talk to me. I just need my personal space and it’s important for me that people respect this - I don’t mind being alone and sometimes I actually prefer it. I only allow myself to get emotional when I’m alone by myself because I tend to see feelings as a weakness. I would never ask for help but would always 

(P.3) give help and advice when someone needs it. My biggest problem lies within my self hate problems (I especially don’t like my looks) which make me insecure and wanting to blend in and never take the center stage. I only have few friends and I value them very much so I’m extremely loyal to them. Strengths: logical, caring, responsible, organized. Weaknesses: insecurity, pessimist, tend to worry a lot (even about insignificant details), overthinking (when it comes to decision making), 

(P.4 and last) perfectionist. Likes: books, movies, long walks, tennis, stationary, writing, daydreaming. Dislikes: snakes, deep waters, taking central stage, rude people, group projects, spelling and grammar errors in my native language. Great Shakespeare buff. Would get sarcastic but when I know you and I feel comfortable around you. It takes long time for me to open and to start sharing personal details. Even then I’d keep some things only to myself because I hate to be a bother.

Loki: I feel like, to begin with, Loki would see you as a puzzle. You have several contradictions: you won’t accept help but readily give it, you’re logical but you have insecurities (which are usually illogical in nature) and you overthink, which again is illogical. These contradictions would first intrigue the god of mischief, the maker of chaos, and as he gets to know you; unwrapping layers of your personality, he’d slowly start to fall in love with you on the basis that you’re one of the few humans he knows so completely; you’re his human in a way. Not a possessive feeling, his name for you, but it’s an affectonate way of referring to you. He admires how you know what you need and when you need it and he loves the fact that you don’t put others before yourself: if you need alone time you take it. You both have issues with self loathing but I feel like when you’re insecurities are just a bit too much, Loki would be there to help you see sense with a sarcastic yet oddly accurate statement. You’re also both quite closed off to those you don’t know very well so it’d be a very slow to get going friendship and then even longer until you’re together in a romantic sense.

Thranduil: Your dedication to your studies and the way you fall into what you’re doing, that you forget that the world exists outside of your work is something that would deeply resonate within Thranduil. He, too, has much work to do and less time to do it in. He would understand and would be supportive of your dissertation and your goals, doing what he could to get you to where you want to be. You share something in common with him in that you may appear to be unapproachable to people, but you’re there when someone needs a listening ear; this suggests empathy and you only give advice when someone needs it, whereas Thranduil freely gives it whether it was asked for or not. As such, the both of you would often be found offering counsel to others. You’re definitely close as a couple because you support each other through everything. Thranduil has some dislike for your self-hatred but he disguises that in favour of trying to help you find healthier ways of viewing yourself.

Severus: You already have a fair amount of intellectual activity in common with Severus: your House (same as mine, btw way more than you do! So, you would find a time in a day to sit down and do your own things; spending time together separately. Neither of you ever ask for help but both of you need help now and then, Severus most especially, so sometimes you do force help upon the other. It comes from a place of love, something you’re both very logical enough in, and so neither of you would be mad about it. Severus would be, a little, but he’d bite his tongue. You dislike snakes but you’re in Slytherin, something Severus finds hilarious. It’s one of the few things that makes him laugh.

Hannibal: Hannibal would definitely use his connections to make sure that your goal became a reality. He would do this out of a genuine need to see you succeed, but also because, in doing so, you will feel gratitude towards him and so you’ll be less likely to leave him and therefore, you’ll keep his secrets and he will win. He would make you take care of yourself, handing you well balanced, nutritious food. He would say things like, “food is the body what reading is to the mind” or obvious manipulations like “eat or you can’t abc”. It’d come from a place of love but also from a place of control. If he controls you, then you’ll stay. Or so he thinks. It’s Hannibal, who can say what really goes through that mind of his? Like Will once said, he can explore four different thought tracks all at the same time and picks the one which amuses him most. He would respect your boundaries, your needs, and in return would expect the absolute same - common courtesy but of course you go above and beyond for him, always for him. You dislike rude people so really, you’re almost perfect for each other (apart from you don’t share the same dietary preferences but then, few people do, so it doesn’t bother him). 

Sherlock: Ooooh, Sherlock!!! anyone who tries to get in the way of either of you getting your alone time or whatever else you need. You both find emotions to be weak but because you’re a little more in touch with your own emotions than Sherlock is, you’re there to support him as well and you know when you need a good cry, etc. You’re logical like he is but insecure, a real contradiction, and in his usual tactless way, Sherlock would use cold, hard logic to comfort you. He’d say something like, “don’t be stupid. That won’t happen.” in his normal uncaring way, with an indignant “Sherlock!” coming from John in the background to punctuate a slightly uncomfortable environment. It’s a good thing you know and love Sherlock, because you’ll need that to make sure you don’t end up killing him while you live in 221B with him. Goodness knows John came close a couple of times :D

Edward: There’s a pact between the two of you that Edward will not, under any circumstances, read your mind without your prior spoken consent plus witnesses so he can’t try and twist your words against you. When times are desperate though, he will do so without consent because you’re damaging your mind or body. When you’re really down on yourself, Edward would tense up and suddenly hiss a, “Stop that!”, his fists clenched and his teeth biting into his inner cheeks. He would do whatever he could, even if he couldn’t fix it precisely, to help you find a healthier way to view yourself, even going so far as to ask Rosalie (who I feel experiences insecurities more than the rest of the Cullens) and Carlisle (for professional advice) on what to do. You would always be his number one priority, in everything he does. You like and prefer solitude so Edward would always mindfully avoid breaking your boundaries, though sometimes his ego gets in the way and he ends up doing exactly that. He never fully understands your anger but a brief break from you while he hunts almost always clears things up for him and he would profusely apologise, his voice sounding like he would cry if he could. He’d support you in your goal and would help you with absolutely anything - he would likely use his money, his family’s money, to get you to where you need to go. He has a crappy way of showing it sometimes, but he does love you.

[thisturbulentspecies]

Blog entry 2 / 01.23.19

From The Cradle To The Grave

______________________________

Collapse and dismantlement: On form and dramaturgy in Liszt’S late symphonic poem From the Cradle to the Grave

"The symphonic poem From the Cradle to the Grave deserves a special status among Liszt’s symphonic works because he wrote it after a long break as part of his series of symphonic poems from his Weimar period. The composition was inspired by a drawing by the Hungarian painter Mihály Zichy. Many aspects of Liszt’s musical response to this drawing contrast with his older symphonic works. Liszt chooses a simple three-part structure, in which each movement is dedicated to one of the stages of life. The final movement functions as a thematic recapitulation and synthesis, which, however, is no longer staged as an emphatic breakthrough, as in earlier works, but rather as a process of dismantlement preceded by a dramatic collapse at the end of the second movement. The demonstrative break with the concept of a final apotheosis relates back not only to the source of inspiration for the work, but also to a transformation in the composer’s aesthetic viewpoint."

______________________________

This is my story. It belongs to me. Those other people were present. They are not part of this story. Also, their stories are not important to me. For, this is my story.

1:00 am, October 10, 1999. My Dad was dying. He was never going to recover. He would not get better. I do not believe in miracles. Even if I did, his body was broken. It couldn't be repaired by god or man. In the early hours of a Sunday, Priests we're busy doing whatever priests do. Reverends were busy preparing sermons and preparing to save souls. One million prayers could not change anything. Dad's doctors were resigned to the fact that a a terribly ill man was quickly dying. His body, like our bodies, is a machine made of water and flesh and muscle and blood and bone. His machine, was broken.

I sat in a small waiting room maybe 45 feet from the the holding cell for my Dad's soul. Those other people were in in the room. Hours passed and those people made small talk and prayed and drank coffee. Others sped from cities miles away to make small talk and pray and drink coffee with those other people.

My father was, in one form or the other, in very poor health since the late 1970's. All of my siblings were older and were oblivious to how bad it was back home. Dad's back injury forced to him retire. He had no choice but to watch his greenhouse, his second love, destroyed in front of him by the company that bought his land. Before we could move to our new house his greenhouse was burnt to the ground.

I had no choice but watch my parents marriage crash and burn. Mom got angry and Dad got depressed. I watched as they wept over the death of my brother. Soon followed by a quick divorce. I had a front row seat for all of this. Mom was crushed. Dad soon remarried a very mentally ill woman. Simply put, the last 18 years of my Dad's life had been difficult. Certainly not what he signed up for, especially in his early 70's.

My Dad will be remembered as a happy and gregarious man. He was a man of faith and integrity. He always wore a smile. He played acoustic guitar, like 3 chords, just enough to write and play heartfelt songs. Dad wept in private. Sometimes I heard him. He had lost his livelihood, his business, 2 sons and a marriage. A series of heartbreaks.

Dad was going to die soon. He suffered from diabetes, pneumonia and chronic pain. He was now going to die in the last room he would ever be in. Death would mean freedom for his soul. Wherever he was headed, it was better than that room.

The waiting room was in the ICU at Rockford Memorial Hospital. This room had chair's, a small couch, lamps, a coffee table, coffee maker and half a dozen inspirational pictures on the beige walls. Those other people we're in the room. Talking and wringing their hands and praying for him to pull through. To pull through. To pull through? For what? More misery? More pain? We were allowed to go back two at a time. I guess those other people did. I walked back alone.

As I approached the room, I heard the beeps and drones and whines of the equipment. There he was, in a what they call a coma, he was unresponsive and kept alive via life support.

He was almost naked, spare the hospital gown over his genitals. The wires and tubes and leads and IV's and tape and made it clear about what would happen, sooner than later. I wanted to speak but all I did was weep. After a few minutes, I summoned the strength to hold his hand and move my lips very close to his ear. I recall my words pretty vividly.

" Dad, it's your time to go. You have done your work here on this Earth. You did the best you could in this life. Don't hold on. There's no need to wait out this misery any longer. I love you. Many people love you. Somewhere out there, your loved ones are waiting. Your sons are waiting. Go Dad. Just go. This is your permission". I could barely get those words out between my sobs, but I managed to do so.

There layed the man, who in his heyday was a tall strong man. He was hilarious, hard working and dedicated. Now he looked like a cyborg in a lab. I had the opportunity to share what was in my heart with him. I did my best to give him hope and comfort. As awful as this sounds, I wanted him to pass. Fuck this room Dad, I thought to myself, get out of here, just go.

I returned to the room with those other people, still talking and crying and drinking coffee. He needed to go, I screamed in my mind, to leave this mortal coil forever.

Dad expired around 15 minutes later. I didn't shed a single tear. I was secretly elated. He was finally free. Those other people cried. 'There's your miracle', I thought to myself.

From the cradle to the grave. The painting above is an ode to the symphony of the same name. ( see text above). We are born and we die. Some die far too early. Some, on the battlefield. Others in times of darkness and violence. Some during childbirth. Some in the ICU on a Sunday morning.

Dad grew up DIRT poor. I don't think he had a proper cradle. Three days later, he would have a proper grave. As I walked outside to smoke, I heard a lullaby playing on the hospital intercom, which is played when a baby is born. I secretly hoped those other people didn't hear it. It was my lullaby, and this is my story, and it belongs to me and nobody else.

My hope was that that the lullaby baby had a proper cradle. That he is loved, has grown up healthy and happy. Hopefully this baby wouldn't lose two sons, his health, his livelihood, three marriages and wouldn't die hooked up to more machinery than NASA needs to launch a satellite into orbit.

Lullaby baby is almost 20 now. My father has been gone almost 20 years. Do I think my whispers in Dad's ear granted him permission to go? I know he heard me, I'm positive he did. I don't know much about what they call a coma, but in my heart I know he heard every word. I'm not sure if those other people wanted him to pass, but I did. From the cradle to the grave, it's really all we're promised, the cradle and the grave. It is my sincere belief that the grave can sometimes be as much of a precious gift as the cradle.

This is my story and mine alone. Those other people were present but this is not their story. Also, their stories are not important to me. This was my story until today. But today this becomes our story, and ours alone.

***EE***

[veterveter]

Hey hey, it's gay bike anon again! I'm more than honoured to get my own tag!!! I definitely would like to keep talking to you <3 And only love for you too <3

I'll gladly wait for your response to my ask (or asks??? we'll see one day ehehehe)! I feel you, when people cite some of my text messages from a few months (or more) ago I'm often like "nope, nah-ah, that's not me, you're wrong". Same for older essays, I often can't believe I wrote those. And even with things I wrote late at night a few weeks ago, sometimes I'm like "I wrote that? That monstrosity??? Okay, I need more sleep before writing". (My capacity of writing in correct English grammar usually goes to sleep before I do, same goes for varied word choice). But sometimes I'll see this project I've worked on YEARS ago and exactly recognize the pieces I wrote? Since the ask would be fairly recent, I suppose I would recognise my writing style and word choice and since I didn't wrote it whilst sleep deprived (I hope??) I'm setting my chances of recognising it pretty high. But we'll see one day, the mystery will marinate for a while... [I am rereading this in the daytime, and this is EXACTLY what I meant, at night I make the weirdest word choices?? I’m definitely not changing it though because I might find it kinda funny]

I snorted so hard about the way you talked about your almost-name, I'm giggling here like crazy. Apparently my name means something alike 'dedicated to God', but my parents aren't really believers, so gotta love that. The meaning of my sibling's name is 'summer', but I'm the one born in the summer, whilst my sibling is born in autumn, oops. Guess my parents never checked one of those sites/ books where you can find the meaning of a name hahaha.

I love how my ask was so weird and chaotic that you sent a screenshot to a friend. I LOVE that she had no idea what was going on. Then again, I watched the semis (obviously hahaha) but I had no idea what was going on either... But honestly it was peak Dutch culture, water and bicycles, I would just add an ode to 'hagelslag' and voila, the entirety of Dutch culture summed up... [Also: if you don't know: 'hagelslag' is just sprinkles which we eat on bread, yes, on bread, we do not not only eat sprinkles as on cake or on donuts, like in any other country, no, we put it on bread. It's actually a really popular sandwich topping here. My ultimate favourites are the chocolate ones, but you also have them in several fruity flavours (like forest fruit) and anise flavour.] Thank you, perfect chaotic energy is an ultimate goal I strive towards *bows like I'm Victorian royalty or something*

You're absolutely right, it went EXACTLY like that. Specifically, I would be studying for my exams, explaining topics to myself like I always do, so I'd tell myself "The six possible origins of economies of scope are indivisibility, specialisation, marketing, research and development, GUESS WHAT.. SUBWAY DRIVER GANDÍA... ehhh... what was I doing again??" OR: "one of the most detailed and most used models of responsive regulation is Brathwaite's piramid. His enforcement piramid visually shows, nope not important, SUBWAY DRIVER GANDÍAAAAAA" And I'd laugh, continue explaining theories and calculations to myself until my focus started lessening again and my thoughts would wander off again. I am VERY glad I'm not the only one who thinks about it from time to time, and I'm glad you're not suing me for any mental harm yet.

Yess, those pictures I saw from Promising Young Woman look so beautiful and aesthetic!! I'll probably watch it somewhere after the 16th, because I'll most likely have finished my last exams by then. I'll tell you what I thought about it! Thank you SO SO SO much for all the luck wishes!!!! I had an exam last Friday and I absolutely rewarded myself, because it went better than I expected and I passed an earlier exam and a paper too! I didn't buy myself a tricorne (yet), but I did buy funko pops (my inner economist said it was 100% rational because it was a really good deal hahaha). I still have two exams to go, so I could always buy a tricorne for finishing either of those, OR. EVEN BETTER. I'll ask my parents (or my grandparents) for one for my birthday. I mean, that would be hilarious. They'd be so confused. They've never seen S3 and S4 of LCDP so they'll have no idea, even if I tried to explain it. It would be so incredibly funny (and really really weird for them), I am laughing like crazy just at the thought of it.

I've never been in Finland before, but those temperatures do not sound legal indeed. I have no knowledge of Finnish law, but maybe article 3 of the European Convention on Human Rights, the prohibition of torture, would work? If I was the judge I’d 100% agree, so we should all sue the weather sksksks. I'm glad to have brought you rain though (and that I apparently possess the power to do so - magic weather controlling pirate seems like a nice enough job to me)!!! I hope the temperature has become at least somewhat lower. You're right, climate change should just... stop... right away. The weather is pretty weird here, right now: one day it will be super sunny and (at least) around 27 degrees and almost melting away, and the other day it will be raining and I'll be wearing my warmest sweater. Like, why the extremes??

I love that I am able to make you lose your coherent thoughts (that's probably why we have one brain energy about Underwater, because I, too, have the ability to make myself lose my coherent thoughts). I'm glad for your faith in my impersonation of Martín. I even started Duolingo Spanish again, and now know the phrase, "Yo bebo leche" (I drink milk) which obviously would be very important to him. Now I'll just need an Argentinian accent to go with it. Leaning menacingly on a cane would be GREAT, I love the idea. I'll open job applications for a Denver. Maybe my cat could help me, she, much like Denver, is super loud and she is super aggressive towards other cats, so there is potential there. And guiding dogs and even tiny guiding horses exist, why not a guiding cat?

I always assumed I would follow a more... you know… legal... career path, maybe even literally a career in law. But, my accounting professor also showed us how to manipulate financial statements ("so you can notice when people are doing this", uh-huh sure, sure that’s why) and another professor of mine also said that a criminal career sometimes could be the more rational, rewarding choice over a legally acceptable career. So, I suppose I should not be surprised by this sudden change of career plans. I should have seen this coming. And what better way to be able to avoid the laws than by knowing exactly what they are and how far you can go. And if that plan doesn’t work out, the books of law I have (they’re combined in two huge hardcover bundles) are really heavy and you could probably harm someone with them if you hit hard enough… Well, I suppose you can even leave “hard” away, just by hitting someone softly with those books you can bring serious harm to them… Ah, and like that one professor would say: in this scenario it would be a rational choice to become a pirate instead of a privateer. Oh dear, not Arturito :/ Mutiny would seem like a good option, I’ll take over the ship and become Palermo the Pirate. Sounds much and much better than “Arturo the Pirate”, since that isn’t an alliteration, sooo mutiny is reasonable even for that reason. And then there’s the fact that it’s Arturo, I mean, that says enough.

YOU LOVE UNDERWATER TOO????!!!! I completely forgot that you posted that! It seems we do indeed already have one shared braincell energy my friend <3

Last week has been pretty good (except for having to make a test at 9:30, what a godless time, I’m usually barely awake by then ehehehe), I think I aced the test I had, got back some good grades and finally got my first Covid vaccination (and only shortly slight dizziness as a side effect, so that's pretty great). And thanks so much!!! For now I’m safe from Gandía, but somewhere in mid-July I’ll have to take an exam on campus, so I’ll might be able to bring out my inner Palermo then.

How was your week? If the weather is still unkind to you (well, also if the weather *is* kind to you), treat yourself to your favourite ice cream and a break every now and then <3 Do you already have holidays or hasn’t your academical year ended yet?

You’re also right - this is conversation and we’re friends now <3 And I absolutely do like cookies! I would say my favourites are american cookies (though stroopwafels are reaally good as well) but honestly there are only a few kinds of cookies that I don’t love that much. And anything with chocolate in it is GREAT. I do also love apples and bananas, though grapes (which I just had) are even better! What’s your favourite kind of cookie?

Also, I know I have been giving you so many prompts already, but I saw this one in that list you reblogged and it gave me so much Berlermo energy: you live in an apartment with your best friend. the two of you always fall asleep in each other's arms, but one day, your friend isn't there. they've fallen in love with someone else. it's your other best friend, who recently moved in with you. and that's when you realize, that those nights you spent together, weren't so platonic after all. I would love it if you’d write it, but if you decide not to that’s absolutely fine too, no worries <3

By the way, I was going to post this quite a bit earlier, but my laptop (unlike me) decided yesterday night, when I was finishing writing this, that it was time to sleep, so I had to quickly dump this whole rant in Google Docs (it’s almost two and a half pages what the heck) and I was busy all day so I only was able to upload it just now. I swear I can ractually espond faster than after a week :) Have a lovely evening, much love from the gay bike country <3

Heeeeeeey you are back!!! How happy am I to see my favouritest gay bike anon return to my inbox!!! 💕 [Author's note: You can tell I started this reply right away because you've sent me three or four asks since this one and one can tell you are indeed back hahaha]

Yeeeeeees this is how one makes friends!! You know, I was just thinking the other night of how "gay bike anon" shortens to GBA, like the Game Boy Advance, you know. Make of that what you will, but it pleases me to know that you can also have a cute nickname for your cute nickname. Nicknameception.

Yes, exactly that, "I did not write that, and if I did in fact write that.. No I did not." Also, "the mystery will marinate"??? That's an amazing word choice and some day I will absolutely use it for something, just you wait. I think it just goes to show that you should write everything while tired, haha.

Haha I love that naming convention for you. It may make very little sense, but....... but. Also, happy birthday for whenever it is, presumably in the nearby past or future!! Lots of love!! You're the summer child while your sibling is... a summer child, but like, different.

Since you appreciated my almost-name story, I'll reward you with the rest of it: so my name is Tuuli, which is Finnish for "wind". My mum originally wanted to name me Pilvi, which means "cloud". And then she was like oh no this child is not at all serene and cloud-like??? and thus, a new me. I'm glad she had second thoughts, although I wonder if having such an ill-fittingly chill name would've done anything to alter my personality? Nomen est omen and all. There's some kind of an alternate universe where all of that played out, but I'm glad it's not this one.

Yeah either you watched the semis and have no idea, or you didn't watch them and have no idea. There is no way to get what was going on there, I'm certain they themselves also didn't get it. I had no idea about hagelslag but thjipgnhefjpihjo that's amazing, I love that for you!!!! There was absolutely no reason to go there but you as a country just... did that. Amazing. Please have some and report to me so I can live through you. And also, you are absolutely legit Victorian royalty [or something] *bows in return*. Also, I do love how you say "I watched the semis (obviously)." Imagine if you didn't and this entire time I was tragically misinterpreting the nature and intentions of your ask and you were just rolling with it because you've no idea what I'm on about but are also too polite to tell me that. Khhhhhhh

Your brain has priorities!!!! And they're honestly beautiful. Well done, brain. Subway driver Gandíaaaaaaaaaa~~~ My brain is filled with Berlermo quotes that come @ me at random times during the day and leave me just a tad shell-shocked, remembering how it all went down. I'm eating my morning yoghurt and my brain goes yo te propuse fundir oro juntos, and I'm just there like :)))))) Real nice, brain.

Have you had the opportunity to see Promising Young Woman yet? Hhhhh it's so pretty, every time I work on this reply [it's a lot of times, okay, I'm very diligent about this, I stare at this ask and craft snazzy replies in my head all the time, that's why I'm so slow in... actually replying] I'm reminded of that. I'm not a very visual person but the colours and the framing... that was really nice.

I am somewhat glad you've not been to Finland yet, you must hit me up when you come visit, I'll take you for coffee!!! It's actually cooler now (bless!!!!!!!!!!!), the last... four days have been reasonable 14-20 degrees, after four consequtive weeks of 25+. Kkhhhh thinking back to it makes me feel a little ill, but now beret weather is back. I own a lot of berets, dear gay bike anon. I'm going to my university city for the weekend and I'm already wondering which beret(s) I should bring with me. This is an important decision with potential long-lasting consequences. I don't know if you've played any of Telltale's games (The Wolf Among Us and the first two seasons of The Walking Dead are the best ones, fight me), but when you make a decision and the game goes "This character will remember that." and you instantly go oh no what have I done??? That's how I feel about choosing the perfect beret for my city outing. But yes, weather extremes are just the worst. We've been having the longest drought I've ever seen here (it's still not properly rained, for the record, on Tuesday it rained for an hour or so) while in other places there's awful flooding. That's awful.

Ahhh I'm so happy you're continuing your Spanish-learning!! I took a beginner's course at uni in the spring semester, I'm going to take the next one when uni resumes in September. And yes, I'm studying it for LCDP. I mean I love languages in general, but I never had a particular need to study Spanish, until this year I suddenly did. I'm also Duolingo-ing it! Very slowly and steadily. Also, I adore the idea of your cat being your Denver. What's your cat's name??? What do they look like?? Tell me everything, you can't just leave it at my cat, you simply must allow me to meet them. Also, you know why guide cats aren't a thing? Because cats are the worst. I love cats, but you can't just teach them to do useful things. They'll do them if they want to. As I type this, my cat is trying to catch flies at my feet. Her name is Muusa.

I studied accounting for my undergrad!! So I can join you in [[[preventing]]] tax fraud and [[[recognising]]] tampering with financial statements. We can make a totally legitimate business out of it. No but truly, I'm certain we were taught some of those things with the expectation that our future employers would expect it of us. Capitalism is so fun :)))))) And you shouldn't be surprised, academia is but a stepping stone to crime, honestly. Any dark academia book will tell you this. You start out learning Latin and wearing turtlenecks, you end up with murder. That's just how academia works. And you seem to have already chosen your weapon... you're well on your way. :) Palermo the Pirate sounds great!!! I support your mutiny. I don't think I said, but this is my favourite word of the English language. Mutiny. Mutiny????? It doesn't sound very serious. It sounds cute, actually. I love it.

I'm so happy to hear you got your covid vaccine!!!! I had mine a month ago or so - I typed you a reply to the subway Gandía thing on the train ride back, actually. I was really stressed about getting it on my right arm, because I'm left-handed, and last time I got a vaccination (like a decade ago) they insisted on giving it on my left arm and I was sad :( But this time!! I got it on my chosen arm and was very pleased. So anyway, that was a segue. I'm glad you got your covid shot and were side effect -free!!!

My week has been good, thank you!! I went to my uni city for my niece's birthday on Monday, and as said I'm going back on Friday (tomorrow). So this time in between has felt like exactly that, time in between. I started reading Call Me By Your Name. I had my Korean class last night. Now I'm hanging out with my cat (she has stopped chasing flies and climbed to my lap) and talking to you. My holidays started already in May! And uni resumes in the beginning of September, but I'm a tutor for new students so I need to show up three weeks earlier for the orientation weeks. Yes, we do three weeks of orientation (read: three weeks of drinking). It's a bit insane.

Now I need to ask you again how your week has been, since I'm so slow. How has your week been?? Are you free from your exams?? When does your uni resume?

Stroopwafels are so good ahhh I'll have to buy them when and or if I see them. Possibly when I'm in central Europe but haha I can hope to be lucky and see them at a store with imported stuff, you know. My favourite cookies??? Omg maybe these ones - they have this truffle filling, and they're fun to eat (this is important in cookies, you see):

And of course they're Fazer. Because Finnish people have only one setting, apparently. Or maybe that's just me. But all cookies are great, honestly. I like making American cookies, that's always a fun pastime (and you get to have cookie dough, that's like half the fun). I've actually not made them for a lifetime??? Maybe I should, soon. I'll keep you updated. Also, brookies. I love making brookies, they're great.

I really really appreciate being given prompts, I hope you know that!! Thank you!! Consider me pocketing this prompt and maybe eventually some day theoretically getting back to you about it!! You're right - it has Berlermo energy. Insofar as either of them actually have other friends. :)

Thank you for this kind message, dear gay bike anon <3 I'd apologise for my slowness in replying but I think I'd rather you just assume that I'll get back to you, and thank you for your patience <3 Your kind and funny and chaotic asks always brighten my day. I hope you'll have a great rest of the week and just... all the nice and fun and good things and great vibes in life. All the best, dear gay bike anon <3 Take care!! And greetings from Muusa as well - she just yawned and I presume that means "greetings".

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “A Slight Hiccup”

Written by: Haley Mancini

Written & Storyboarded by: Alicia Chan, Caitlin Vanarsdale

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

This is far more than a hiccup, trust me.

An apology in advance: there is not a lot to say about this episode, so do not expect as much text as the last one. This episode is a very "high concept" episode, the kind of episode idea that would appear as a short gag in The City of Clipsville. The big difference is that this short gag is going to be 12 minutes long.

Blossom: Stop right there, evil-doer!

Ah, finally, an episode that starts with a crime being fought, just like the old days!

No, she’s just practicing her next battle lines, just in case they ever have to use them. Other rejected lines include "villains stink", "we’ll save you", and "we're heroes"! Honestly, I would just stick with "not so fast."

The girl currently talking to herself about battle lines is interrupted by Buttercup trying to teach Bubbles how to do the perfect burp. Yes, it is that kind of episode.

Surrounded by tens of soda cans littered across the house, which Blossom is apparently not bothered by, Blossom asks what Bubbles and Buttercup are doing. To subvert our expectations, Blossom tells Bubbles that she should not listen to Buttercup because she should listen to her on the subject of burping. She's the leader, so she must be the best at everything, including belching!

We get a very long sequence of the Powerpuff Girls drinking several cans of soda, filling their cheeks to the brim, and throwing them on the floor. Such great role models, drinking very unhealthy drinks and littering! Hiccup punch, girl down, womp womp.

Bubbles celebrates her first good burp, apparently because she's the blonde, but Blossom knows that this is just a mere hiccup. A mere hiccup that causes them to launch across the room a split second after the hiccup. I think the timing is a little off, guys.

The Professor makes a short visit to this episode to explain what is happening to them: since they're superheroes, their hiccups are super, too. He recommends that they drink a glass of water, but it doesn't stop the hiccups. Worse, Bubbles says that now she needs to pee. They never follow through with that, and I am glad that is the case.

They get a call from the mayor that the jar district is being attacked. The Powerpuff Girls spend quite a bit of time getting shocked by this. No, not by the very existence of the jar district, or the fact that the Mayor actually called them in this reboot, but how anyone could attack the lifeblood of the town!

We cut to the Jar District...and it seems to be fine to me. The Mayor did manage to see a blimp in the shape of some green troll-faced character.

Tour Guide: And to our right is the infamous Jar District...

Random person: The lifeblood of the town!

If it is the lifeblood of the town, how is it infamous? Words have meaning. Speaking of infamy, we finally get to see some trouble.

The real threat shows up minutes later, as this episode about super-hiccups has to have the silliest of super-villains. The Gnat is here, and I deeply regret ever saying this guy is my favorite of the reboot villains. For starters, Bianca Bikini is a lot better. His gimmick seems to be committing crimes when the Powerpuff Girls have issues. Well, that and being there when the Powerpuff Girls can get beaten up so Bliss can save the day.

He pretends to be this big threat to this Jar District, and then takes a significant amount of time coughing and being incomprehensible to the other people he's threatening. I am sure this was meant to be hilarious, and not just a desperate plea to the audience that they could not squeeze enough water out of the burp and hiccup plot stone.

The Powerpuff Girls show up desperately try to stop this hot air balloon, only to be thwarted by their super-hiccups. Even worse, their super-hiccups end up interferring with what are essentially cutaway jokes. Since they already used up all of the hiccup jokes they can muster, they decide to fit in all the jar jokes they can think of.

Like...one of the super-hiccups interrupting the Jar Czar. Because Jar sounds like Czar. Bubbles, on the other hand, manages to hiccup her away into another building.

They spend a lot of time on the aftermath of that, as if this was the most tragic moment of them all. They even made a song that is in no way a reference to What A Wonderful World. How is this worth that? Is it because it’s the all important jar district? At least it's actually animated; they could just randomly put a bunch of random stock footage, I say not knowing anything about what happens later in the episode.

One part that is caused by Bubbles' accidental act of tragic destruction is that a giant jar lid almost lands on the sobbing Mayor. The Powerpuff Girls do show off another superpower other than flight in that they catch this lid, only for the Mayor to keep crying. I know, he loves his pickles, which happen to come in jars.

They do a hiccup, causing them to spin around. It turns out, while they're holding this giant jar lid, the force of their hiccups manages to make them spin at super fast speeds. What do you know, something that heavily detrimented them is now to their advantage; this episode is just going through the cycles. All we need is for them to suddenly lose those hiccups as soon as it becomes inconvienent.

In the end, this causes a giant tornado. This was something they were able to do without super hiccups earlier in even the reboot, but that regular non-hiccup tornado didn’t even stop a giant spider monster, never mind this blimp. They really needed these super-hiccups to make a tornado that easily beats this reboot’s version of the Amoeba Boys.

Of course, now there’s a giant tornado running across Townsville. The girls’ actions lead to consequences, who would have guessed? It’s also heading towards this all-important and yet infamous Jar District.

They try to stop it by hiccuping against it, only for their hiccups to go away as soon as they need them. I told ya! It’s practically a cartoon law: whenever the bad thing that happened becomes essential to their victory, they suddenly have to lose it. What are the Reboot Puffs to do? Drink more soda, of course! Cue the obvious "trying to get soda out of the vending machine" joke!

While they get the soda, they don't seem to get the hiccups. However, Bubbles is making a weird face, and not the kind used for the usual wacky face gags. To bookend this whole thing, Bubbles finally gets to do the burp she was trying to do since the opening. A burp so big, it couldn't be animated. Oh no...

...they have to use stock footage. Unlike some of the other uses of stock footage, I could see where they are going here. This burp is so monstrous, it affects real life, destroys real buildings, and even dogs from Tex Avery cartoons! May not want to reference better cartoons in your bad one, guys.

The episode ends with the irony: the episode ends with a pan shot of the rest of the city being destroyed by the stock footage-y stock footage burp of stock footage, but at least most of the Jar District is okay! This may be one of the few highlights of this episode; I could see an episode of the original ending like this.

Does the title fit?

It is about hiccups...not very slight ones, though.

How does it stack up?

This episode was chosen to be the preview episode, and I can only wonder why. It's a very silly idea, and they couldn't get of a lot of material out of it. There are episodes that have bad ideas that end up being okay in the end, and this is not one of them.

Next, Discount Jojo interrogates some toys! It's better than it sounds, but maybe it's because of this episode.

← The Buttercup Job ☆ Toy Ploy →

[panda-noosh]

hey i've got a pretty specific ask, but it's long and doesn't all fit in the askbox so I'm gonna split it into 3 separate asks - but it's all the same prompt!!! sorry that it's so long, but I'd love to see you write it if you have time!

Request: Shiro'sfem!reader s/o meeting up with Lance and Keith when back on earth andthey're accompanied by an old female friend of theirs from theirclass at the garrison (garrison girl - GG for short but you can nameher whatever). GG notices that s/o is wearing Shiro's military dogtags and is silently like ‘that should be me’ cos she’s been inlove with him since pre-kerberos but it was unrequited because shewas younger and keith’s buddy so ‘big bro’ Shiro only ever sawher as that. (1 of 3)

SoShiro joins them all in the evening at a bar and is all love-y withhis s/o upon arrival + GG is all ‘TAKASHI I MISSED YOU’ and grabshim into a huge hug and for the rest of the night is overly flirtyand trying real hard to make s/o jealous and start a fight but s/o isamused like ‘gurl he loyal AF good luck’ cos she can see thatalthough Shiro is enjoying GG’s company, the neutral body languagehe uses with her and the look of romantic disinterest in his eyes forGG is super clear. (2 of 3)

Softpost night out reassurance to S/O from Keith/Lance when they get home(after Shiro falls asleep) that space dad's only interested in hiss/o and she will never have anything to worry about and that shirowould only ever give his tags away when he was certain the otherperson was the one forever. [tbf this part could actually be separatefrom the rest of this ask if you prefer] ALSO Man I’m soooooo sorrythis was LONG and super specific hahahahaha thanks!! [3 of 3] 

   Her attempts weregood, at least.

   She was clearlytrying hard. Every little giggle that escaped her mouth, or the wayshe would slap Shiro's arm whenever he said anything remotely funny.The way she would practically throw herself across his lap toexaggerate just how hilarious theman was.

   Itwas a good try, but one that was clearly falling flat.

   Youdidn't want to be that person. Thatperson who was so protective over their significant other thathanging out with the opposite gender was banned, off limits, nothappening. Those types of people were annoying, clearly with mildtrust issues.

   Andyou trusted Shiro. That much was clear by the way you were sitting sopatiently between Keith and Lance, watching the show unfold.

   Shirohad arrived only five minutes late to the meal Lance had planned forthe day. He had wanted to get to know Hannah, who was an old familyfriend of Shiro's. You had met her once or twice before; oncewhenever you and Shiro weren't dating, and that gave you plenty oftime to understand just how she felt about your now-boyfriend.

   Shehad always had a crush on him, you knew. From the way she blushedwhenever he walked up to her, or the way she always stiffened at theside of him whenever he addressed her. He called her 'Han' a lot ofthe time, a quirky nickname which was all in good fun, though Hannahtook it as more than that, apparently.

   Thedinner was going well in your eyes. Hannah was quite simplyembarrassing herself, which didn't take away from the fact that yourfettuccine alfredo tasted incredible.

   “So,Shiro,” Hannah started once again. She had started almost everysentence she had spoken with those two words. “Tell me more aboutthe Garrison, then. What happened to you and Matthew?”

   Youinwardly shivered at the way she used Matt's full name. Lance andKeith nearly choked trying to hold back their laughter.

   Shirowas oblivious to the ongoing inside joke being passed between you andthe two boys. He turned to his friend, smiling like he always did.Her face turned beetroot red at the attention and she quickly took asip of her water in an attempt to hide any evidence.

   “Wedon't wanna talk about that here,” Shiro said. “It was a badtime. We're here to have fun, right?”

   Shiroreached over the table and took your hand at the question. Hannah'ssmile immediately wavered, whilst you smiled at Shiro and nodded,intertwining your fingers and running your thumb soothingly over hisknuckles.

   “Right,”Lance hollered. “Han, you're the guest of honour. Tell us a bitabout you.”    Keith's face was red as he tried to hold backhis laughter, and you swiftly kicked him under the table in anattempt to tell him to shut up.

   Hannahraised her perfectly plucked eyebrows, folding her arms over herchest as Shiro pulled his hand back. She seemed to relax at theaction, though Shiro's eyes were still on you, a silent question:“What's going on with Lance and Keith?”

   Youshook your head in reply, waving your hand to inform him that youwould tell him everything later.

   “OnlyShiro calls me Han,” Hannah said. She didn't miss the opportunityto run her fingers over Shiro's arm, which made Keith and Lance bothsplutter with laughter. “Anyway, there's not much to tell. Shiroand I have been friends for as long as we can remember, and he'salways been a big help in my life, you know? We met-”

   “Theyasked about you, Han,” Shiro cut in. “Not about our friendship.I'll tell them all about that later on.”

   Keithcovered his face at this point, nearly spitting up his onion ring ashe tried to bite back even more bubbling laughter. Lance was coveringhis mouth, silent tears of joy rolling down his cheek at thesituation.

   Youcould feel your own amusement bubbling to the surface, and youquickly took a drink of your water in an attempt to hide it.

   Thenight continued on like this – poor attempts at flirting, Shiro'sodd bursts of PDA which made Hannah's entire body tense up. She knewyou two were together – the second time you had the 'privilege' tomeet her, you and Shiro didn't hide the fact that you were a couple.

   Shewas just trying to win something now.

   Gettingback home, you, Lance and Keith were finally allowed to let loose thebubbles of laughter you had been trying to hide the entire night.

   Shirowent straight to bed as soon as he was in the door, pecking yourcheek goodnight before grumbling about how full he was until hisvoice became nothing but a dull pang againstthe thick walls of the ship.

  Assoon as the door closed, you ran your hands through your hair. Keithand Lance fell back against the sofa, howling in uncontrollablelaughter.

   “Didyou see whenever she dropped her napkin and tried to get Shiro topick it up for her?” Lance exclaimed, throwing his head backagainst the cushions he had just squashed. “Oh my God, how you kepta straight face out there, Y/N, I have no idea.”   You shookyour head. “I don't know how I did it, either. It was soembarrassing.”

   “Atleast you know he's loyal,” Keith commented, coming down from hishigh a lot quicker than Lance was. “You have nothing to worryabout. Seriously. We all saw how he was with you tonight.”

   Youarched a brow as you slid off your dress coat, revealing the plaingrey shirt you wore underneath. “How he was?”

   “Shiro,”Keith confirmed. “Don't pretend like you didn't notice. He was allover you tonight. It made our Han quite mad.”    “Oh, mybaby,” Lance squeaked through his laughter.

   Yourolled your eyes. Shiro had never been one for PDA, and the oddholding of your hand or the odd smile sent in your direction wasn'tenough for you to believe that that part of his personality hadchanged, though it certainly was different from what you were usedto. He usually barely even touched you in public – the odd smile,but nothing more. If he was leaving, he would peck your cheek andmaybe tug at your hand, but usually leaving the ship meant business.

   Youpondered on the thought for a while as you get to cleaning up thekitchen which Pidge, Hunk, Allura and Coran had left in a state.

   Youwere almost positive Shiro knew about Hannah's advances towards him.Perhaps he thought you cared – perhaps that was why he was goingthe extra mile to make sure you knew you were his one and only.

   Thatwas the thing, though – you knew. He proved it to you everyday, andhe didn't need to go out of his comfort zone to do it. The way hewoke you up every morning with a soft kiss to your temple, or the wayhe sometimes made you coffee and he apologised whenever he realisedhe had made it too strong, but you would drink it anyway because youtried hard, baby.

   Thatwas what proved to you that you two were in love. Not how he reactedto some girl who was trying too hard.

   Yousmiled to yourself. Our Han.

[thecheekybrunette]

So!!! I've read bkya and it's definitely one of my fave fics, and I'm sorry if this is a question you've answered before, but I was curious about what kind of bond Jungkook and Taehyung share? I know they're not particularly close atm, but I was wondering if they've ever been closer? Or if they have any particular memories together? Thank you for writing such a great fic and being willing to answer all these asks :D

Ah, I haven’t answered it yet! Which is a shame, because this is a lovely question! 

Jungkook and Taehyung’s bond: So while things are a little tense right now, the fact of the matter is: Jungkook is the baby of the family. Like, he is the baby. The little itty-bitty baby. And so all of his older brothers have a special place in their hearts for him, but it’s hard to show that when Jungkook is acting so cranky and mean. 

As for Taehyung in particular, I think Jungkook and Taehyung shared a lot of milestones together. Jungkook was the only one of the kids who had a normal development. While the neonatal abstinence syndrome was obviously a set back, he was able to bounce back after a couple months, and from then on he had Namjoon and Seokjin helping him to progress normally. 

Meanwhile, for Taehyung they were more worried about his survival, so eventually there came a point where Jungkook and Taehyung were evenly matched. They were potty-trained at the same time, they learned their alphabet at the same time, they learned to count, etc. 

Once Taehyung hit elementary school, this changed some because Jimin wasn’t deemed ready for kindergarten at 5, so he was held back a year, and by that point Taehyung had caught up. So then Jimin and Taehyung went to school together and they became peas in a pod. 

But like... Taehyung at that point was really comfortable and happy with Jungkook, and once he realized he could make attachments with Seokjin and Namjoon, he started making attachments with all his brothers, too. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook really values Taehyung because, you know, it’s hard to be the youngest out of five. But Taehyung doesn’t baby him, and he lets Jungkook make decisions when they’re together, and Jungkook really values that. Because when they were just toddlers they were on the same level, and now I think they often see each other as equals. 

Just lately, Jungkook has been a bit mean to Taehyung (he’s been mean to everyone, if not meaner to everyone else), but next chapter they should be on better terms. 

Particular memories together:I’ll give you three of Jungkook’s favorite moments.

When they were little kids, in general, Jungkook found it very difficult to be the youngest because all of his older brothers could do things he couldn’t, but Taehyung was always nice enough to hang back with him. So, for example, whenever they would go to the pool, even Jimin would jump right into the shallow end of the big pool (and scare the ever-loving crap out of Namjoon, who would have to run to pull him out of the water and get swim floaties on him). But Taehyung would go to the kiddie pool with Jungkook, and Jungkook was tiny, but he still was happy to have a friend with him. As they got older, Taehyung would still hang back with Jungkook. Like he would stick to the rides for younger kids at amusement parks, he was happy with PG movies instead of PG13, and he went trick or treating with Jungkook until Jungkook decided he was too old for it.So maybe that’s a million memories, but Jungkook always loved that. 

Something that bothered Jungkook growing up was Taehyung feeling sick. He just couldn’t understand why sometimes Taehyung wouldn’t need to nap instead of play with him, or why sometimes Taehyung had to stay home when Jungkook wanted to go out and do something fun. But then, once, Jungkook got sick with the throw up bug. And he just felt like death. Seokjin had made him set up camp in his room to keep everyone else from getting sick, and it was so boring, all there was to do was drink gatorade and sleep. But fortunately, Taehyung felt an aura and so he couldn’t go to school. And instead of staying in his bedroom, Taehyung snuck into Jungkook’s with Yoongi’s computer, and they watched Netflix until Seokjin found them and lectured them about germs and respecting Yoongi’s things. But it taught Jungkook two things: 1) Taehyung was the best. 2) Being sick isn’t easy. 

Jungkook and Taehyung (when they were like... 4 and 5) used to pretend their feet were a little family under the kitchen table. So during dinner, Taehyung’s feet would be the mommy/daddy feet and Jungkook’s would be the kids. And sometimes Jimin would play too, and he’d have the grandma and grandpa feet, and he’d yell at them all for being too noisy, and it was the funniest thing in the world to Jungkook. Like he thought it was hilarious. Even if you bring it up now,  he laughs a little bit just because it was ridiculous (but also because he’s an adorable little peanut, he just doesn’t know it)

[abbygkane]

So, I was in class and all I could think was drunk Marcus trying to hit on Abby... No wonder I'm failing my classes!

*snorts* That’s a hilarious image! And I know that you didn’t mean to send this message as a prompt or anything, but it did get me thinking and I maybe, kind of, did write something! So hey, if you are failing your classes, at least you have inspired this little thing ^^ I’m totally kidding btw, I’m sure you’re not failing them I BELIEVE IN YOU

Also special thanks to those who messaged/commented with pick-up lines

Marcus is drunk, he knows he is. To be fair, when he decided to drop by their makeshift bar with Indra after their final meeting, he had only intended to have one drink. Just the one after a long day to unwind a little bit or at least to attempt to unwind. Indra had already left some time ago, but somehow one mug of moonshine had turned into another and then another with Bellamy and the rest of his ‘children’, as Abby affectionately and teasingly called them.  

Although both he and Abby knew that they’re anything but children, but still, it’s a nice thought to have.

That he, Marcus Kane, the man who never expected to see the ground or to be a father as a matter of fact, suddenly has a group of young people who respect him, who actively seek him out and ask for his advice. Who perhaps look up to him, even with all his flaws and even though he’ll never admit it, their almost casual amiability towards him means more to Marcus than he could ever express without fumbling his words or tearing up.

But to get back to the point, Marcus knows that he’s drunk. He might not be that far gone that he doesn’t know what he’s saying or doing, but the moonshine has created an enough buzz for him to feel both slightly more relaxed and know that he’ll probably have an impressive headache tomorrow morning. However, as he takes a glance around the table and takes in the good-humored chatter and laughter, Marcus realises that he’ll happily endure tomorrow’s hangover.

To be honest, he doesn’t entirely know what they’re all talking about. To his right, he can hear snippets of what sounds to be a highly technical conversation between Raven, Monty and Harper. Across from him Octavia and Jasper are talking about something. While to his left, he believes that Bellamy, Nathan and Bryan are discussing the newest guard trainees. Or that’s at least what they were talking about a couple of minutes ago when Bellamy had asked for his opinion on Ben, one of the newbies.

Marcus is just content to sit among them and to regularly give his input or opinion on a certain subject. He’s just in the middle of helping Raven translating something from Trigedasleng when he sees from the corner of his eye Octavia nudging Jasper, who starts laughing before whispering something into Monty’s ear, causing the other boy to chuckle as well and in his turn mumbles something to Harper. Marcus watches how she leans into Bryan and soon enough the entire table is grinning and staring at him.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that your wife just walked in”, Jasper cheekily replies, his smirk growing when Marcus nearly chokes on his moonshine.

“My wi- wife? What are you talking about Jasper? I don’t have a wife?”, he retorts, his voice coming out slightly strangled.

“I think Jasper was referring to Abby”, Bellamy kindly offers, while softly patting him on the back taking pity on him.

He won’t deny that the alcohol is making it difficult for him to think, but Marcus would like to think that he’d remember marrying Abby. Oh yes, he’d definitely remember, because marriage would mean them kissing and other stuff, and just imagining kissing Abby is making him blush, all though he could probably blame that on the moonshine if anyone noticed or bothered to comment on it. 

“Well, perhaps not officially”, Nathan murmurs.

“We’re not even together”, he objects.

“And who’s fault is that?”, Octavia retorts with a raised eyebrow.

“I – I mean,” Marcus stammers before clearing his throat, “It’s not that easy. Abby’s and mine’s past, I - I’ve done things”, he murmurs, staring into his mug.

“We’ve all done things we wish we could take back. Besides, you’ve changed”, Bellamy quietly replies and in his tone Marcus can clearly hear the guilt the boy carries with him, a guilt he himself knows all too well.

“Yeah. Besides from all the looks she’s been giving you, I don’t think Doctor Griffin would mind”, Harper comments.

His eyes widen, “Looks?”

Raven rolls her eyes, “Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. She’s been undressing you with her eyes for quite some time”

“Really?”

“Kane please. If we still had dictionaries and you’d look up ‘eye-sex’, there would be a picture of you two next to it”, the mechanic claims with another eye roll.

“Really?!”

 “Well, there’s no time like the present”, Jasper states before standing up and shouting, “Hey Doctor G, there’s a seat for you here if you want to”

“Jasper, sit down! What do you think you’re doing?”, Marcus hisses, leaning forward while motioning him to sit down.

“Helping you”, the boy shrugs as he lets himself fall down on his seat again, enjoying the blush that appears on Marcus’ cheeks and the rest of the table softly snickers.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just flirt!”, Octavia replies.

“Do I look like someone who knows how to flirt?”, he deadpans.

The silence that falls over the table is awkward and kind of painful, and if Marcus were less drunk it might have hurt his feelings, at least a little bit, but right now he’s more concerned about the fact that Abby’s on her way and he has absolutely no idea how to handle himself.

I mean he already has enough trouble making sure he doesn’t act like a total fool hopelessly in love with her when he’s sober, never mind when he’s drunk.

“How about some one-liners?”, Monty offers after a couple of seconds, and Jasper immediately nods his agreement.

“Some what?”

“You know pick-up lines, conversation starters”, the boy explains when Marcus continues to look at him like he’s talking gibberish.

“Yeah, for example; Do you have a map? ‘Cause I keep getting lost in your eyes”, Jasper enthusiastically exclaims, ignoring the soft groans from the others, “Oh, or what about this one; Did you just fart? Because you blew me away!”, he continues with a gigantic grin plastered on his face.

“Ugh, that one’s terrible Jasper”, Raven groans as she hides her face behind her hands, slightly shaking her head.

“How about a doctor related one? Oh no, I’m choking. I need mouth to mouth, quick!!”, he jokes while wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and everyone just burst out in laughter, even Marcus is unable to keep a straight face.

“Dude, you’re the worst”, Monty chuckles, but he claps him good-heartedly on the back.

They’re all still laughing and sipping their drinks when Marcus feels a hand settling on his shoulder.  

“Sounds like you’re all enjoying yourselves.”

Marcus turns his head towards Abby, “Hi”, he greets her with a broad smile.

“Hi”

He keeps staring at her with a silly smile plastered on his face and Abby’s starting to look a bit confused by his behaviour when Jasper loudly clears her throat and she turns her attention towards him. Although she doesn’t retract her hand from his shoulder, an action Marcus is acutely aware of.

Although she doesn’t retract her hand from his shoulder, an action Marcus is acutely aware of.

“Yes, Jasper?”

“Marcus has something to ask you”, the boy says, looking way too smug.

“Oh?”, Abby replies while giving his shoulder an almost imperceptible squeeze.

Marcus throws Jasper a glare, which apparently loses its efficiency after three mugs of moonshine, if the boy’s grin is anything to go on by, before glancing up at Abby.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?”, he proposes while rising from his seat, inwardly giving himself a pat on the shoulder when he manages to do so with only the smallest of stumbles.

“Okay”, Abby frowns, but she wordlessly follows him as he starts to move to an empty table to their right.

“Is something wrong?”, she can’t help but ask as they sit down. 

“Oh no, everything’s fine. I just thought we could talk without getting stared at”, he reassures her. 

“You sure? Because you seemed to be enjoying yourself”, she jests.

“Oh, I’m positive I’ll enjoy myself even more with just you”, he murmurs suggestively, not missing the look of surprise that crosses her face.

“Jasper said there was something you wanted to ask me?”, Abby asks after a couple of seconds.

“Ah, yes”, he breaths, clearing his throat, “That”

He takes several deep breaths, trying to work up the courage to follow’s Monty’s and Jasper’s advice. Which to be fair is something Marcus never thought he’d ever do.“Do you have an inhaler? Because you certainly took my breath away”, he blurts out.

“Marcus, what-”, Abby starts, but he quickly cuts her off.

“There must be something with my eyes because I can’t seem to take them off you”, he rambles on, panicking when she stares at him with her mouth slightly agape.

“Hey, your body is 75% water and I’m thirsty”, he jabbers, only to visibly wince as soon as he realises how simply awful that one had sounded.

Abby bit back a laugh, “Marcus are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m merely intoxicated by you”, he winks, relaxing a little bit and giving her a tiny grin when she starts to giggle.

“Marcus”, she laughs, “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were flirting with me!”

Grin disappearing from his face, he nervously scratches his beard.

“Uhm. I am, actually”, he stammers, trying to look anywhere but Abby’s radiant smile. “Or at least, I’m trying to flirt with you. To be honest, I’m not that good at it, especially not with you. And the moonshine doesn’t really help either.”

“Oh”, Abby exhales.

“Yeah”, Marcus shrugs, trying his very best not to fidget under her gaze, but honestly, if the ground opened up beneath him and swallowed him whole, he wouldn’t mind it at all.

“This is quite the surprise”

“But perhaps not an unwelcome one?”, he hints, a hopeful note clear in his voice.

The smile Abby bestows on him is bright and tender, “Not unwelcome at all”

“Although your pick-up lines do need some work”, she teases.

Letting out an embarrassed groan, Marcus lets his head fall into his hands. “I’m so sorry for those. This was all Jasper’s idea”

“What you flirting with me?”

“What? No no. The pick-up lines. The flirting was Octavia’s idea, I mean-”, he stammers, but rushes to explain when Abby raises an eyebrow.

“She suggested it, but I wanted to. I really did, trust me, I’ve been wanting to for a while now and –”, he falters when he notices the small smile on her face, “I’m messing this up aren’t I?  I’m such an idiot”, he sighs before closing his eyes.

Finally deciding to take pity on him, Abby moves forward and grabs one of his hands before intertwining their fingers.

“But you’re my idiot”, she teases and nearly giggles at how quickly his head snaps up and their eyes lock.

She starts to gently run her thumb across his hand.

“How about you try again, tomorrow? Perhaps over dinner? But sober this time?”, Abby calmly proposes, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Marcus nearly falls off his stool, “You mean like a date?”

“As in me”, pointing at himself, “and you?”, he gestures at her, looking absolutely flabbergasted at the possibility of her even wanting to go on a date with him.

“Yes, with you”, Abby replies, laughter clear in her voice, shaking her head at the look on his face. By moving her head, her ponytail bounces back and forward. Now sober Marcus would have been able to restrain himself, tipsy Marcus however, not so much.

So without even thinking about it, he leans forward before reaching out and twirling some strands of hair around his fingers, getting used to the feel of her silky hair between his fingers.

He’s not sure, but Marcus thinks that he can hear her letting out a soft gasp at their sudden proximity.

“I’d like that”, he murmurs, his voice low as he gently tugs on her hair and watches how Abby’s eyes briefly flicker to his mouth. 

Eyes widening, it’s her turn to look surprised and Marcus nearly tells her that she’s looking absolutely adorable, but he manages to bite it back because even tipsy Marcus knows that Abby probably wouldn’t appreciate being called adorable.

“Okay, then”, Abby murmurs, “It’s a date.”

Marcus can merely nod his head in response and Abby gives him a shy smile before quickly leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow”, she whispers in his ear before rising from her seat and walking away.

As he watches her leave, still feeling a bit flustered by the kiss and by the whole conversation in general, Marcus can hear the kids laughing and whistling from behind him.

Smiling into his mug, he takes another sip before a staggering thought crossing his mind, he was going a date with Abby tomorrow but he has absolutely no idea what to do.