#3.5 MONTHS APART

[scottstiles]

just saw a post sayin destiel invented saying i need you to your beloved and my brain went hmmmmmm🤔 ..................................

“Cas, it’s me. We’re family. We need you. I need you.”

“Scott, you're my best friend. Okay? And I need you. Scott, you’re my brother.”

anyways......

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #38

Still 2gether ep 3:

Bad Buddy ep 7:

[six-of-ravens]

im trapped in this like 3-month cycle of: feel like shit bc of back/shoulder/neck pain and lethargy and the like -> realize exercising regularly will help my physical and mental health -> exercise regularly for one week -> fall off the bandwagon and/or get sick which forces me off said bandwagon -> slowly disintegrate into a pile of aches and pains again

[etheralisi]

I’ve been thinking about in-universe media so. Heh. Why don’t we tumblrify the ending of the rottmnt movie

Update: here’s part 2 and 3+3.5

💫silent_swirl Follow

Nice knowing you guys

🥐ittybittyypastrypuff Follow

Wtf??? Where do you live?

⏱️lordoftimeandspace Follow

You can’t just ask someone where they live

💰rhymeonthedime Follow

op must be from new york. i’ve been trying to text my sister who lives there all day and when she finally gets back to me, it’s to send me a photo of her being chased by some weird??? fleshy???? car? i think the pink stuff was growing inside of it?

🥐ittybittyypastrypuff Follow

The hell is happening in your city?

🔥guess-ill-die Follow

The end of the world

🐛lugbugg Follow

🎙️do-re-mimimi Follow

Where else would you learn that?

14,056 notes

🚀jj-sails Follow

Alien invasion???? This is not how Jupiter Jim said it would go

267 notes

🦙dramallama Follow

So who had alien invasion on the 2020 apocalypse bingo card

🤠see-you-in-space-cowboy Follow

At this point no one is surprised 

#give it two months. somehow something will find a way to top this

12,435 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

I lived bitch

🌑faded-moonlight Follow

Context?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

No ✨

43 notes

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Sorry everyone  ::> ︵ <:: No more art until my hands are healed up. Doctor’s orders

🧸bear-with-me Follow

Are you okay? 🥺🥺💞

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

♡ ♡ Achy. But I realllllly want to drawwwwwww

#I have so many ideas right now #currently trying and failing to draw with feet #but I am determined 

226 notes

👾aliens-among-us Follow

Time to storm Area 51 again

#they can’t stop all of us #look I just want to see aliens in person okay #if they can’t invade my city then what’s the point #I know they have to be keeping some of those pink blobs in there

67 notes

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Hello

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

JUNIOR! HELLO

I SEE YOU HAVE DISCOVERED THE INTERNET

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

It’s Sensei’s fault

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

#I?????? #don’t just look at me it was purple too

5 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I smell the scent of betrayal in the air.

#not science posting #blue I’m looking at you

77 notes

✍️writingprompts Follow

You are a time traveller sent back to stop the apocalypse before it ever began. Only problem is: you aren’t sent back far enough.

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Relatable 

💥zipzapzoom Follow

Umm???

4,522 notes

🕜has-lou-jitsu-been-found-yet Follow

Day 3667 of me posting: no

🪽angelofhell Follow

Wow this blog is dedicated

101 notes

🐝 dizzee-bee Follow

Why do aliens always invade NYC? What’s so special? Why don’t they ever invade Las Vegas huh? What about Boston? Where are my aliens in D.C? So many cities and you’re telling me they chose New York? If aliens really did invade I bet you they wouldn’t even come near it

🐝 dizzee-bee Follow

This post… aged

🐾 ultimate_cataclysm  Follow

Pay up op

1,356 notes

🦊redfoxtrott Follow

there’s something weird going on in this city. remember that time at the stadium? suddenly it’s a free for all on world domination i swear

🪩glitter-jam Follow

I thought the whole stadium thing was a publicity stunt

👋saysayonara Follow

I thought that was a rogue cosplayer 

#for real though. What even happened to them?

11,388 notes

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Wow. So tumblr thinks it can gaslight me int thinking aliens exits huh? Well think again

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Stop bringing up my username. You know im right

2,488 notes

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

NO, MY KEYBOARD IS NOT STUCK LIKE THIS. EVERY LETTER I TYPE IS AS IT IS MEANT TO BE SAID. WITH PURPOSE AND VOLUME.

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

IF MY USERNAME COULD BE IN CAPITALS YOU KNOW IT WOULD BE 

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I can help with this

#give me one minute and some flavourless juice

122 notes

💃disco-girl Follow

My apartment was almost flattened by a giant freakin robot a few years back. And now aliens????? I’m moving

#guys I’m just. So. Done with all of this

67 notes

🎙️do-re-mimimi Follow

So did the aliens just up and leave? What’s the story here?

🎩man-with-a-top-hat Follow

There have been various sightings of lights across the sky. I have not been able to find any reliable sources on the cause, but the general consensus is the lights pushed the aliens back where they came from. 

🦇batarang Follow

This photo of some person swinging around the city has been making rounds on twitter

🐚seashellsshesells Follow

Pretty lights and vigilantes? 

5,993 notes

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

So what are we calling these aliens? They need a cool, alien sounding name ‘cuz all I’ve been seeing around is ‘land squids’, ‘brain goop’ and shoutout to that one discord user who used the words ‘pink gelatinous parsnip’ to describe them.

👊punch-moodi Follow

Have they ever seen a parsnip before?

🤏deadly-nerve-pinch Follow

What about Utroms? They kinda look like the aliens from Jupiter Jim’s Last Trip to the Moon 9

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

Isn’t your fandom super dead?

🤏deadly-nerve-pinch Follow

Say that to our 80+ movies. Your faves could never 

🚀jj-sails Follow

Fandom still going strong 💪 

🍎almond-apple Follow

Why does everyone keep on calling them aliens? Are we sure they’re not just failed government test subjects? Haven’t there been mutant sightings in NYC before?

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

Sorry, mutants???

👾aliens-among-us Follow

Nah it’s defo aliens

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

#so far 3 votes for Utroms and 22 for parsnips #sigh

3,751 notes

🫎duck-duck-moose Follow

Children are terrifying 

💤needsomezzzzzzz Follow

Agreed. But I feel like there’s a story here

🫎duck-duck-moose Follow

Was walking back from work, and I was like nearly home right? I turn a corner and there: a sea of cheering girl scouts. Who are they cheering on you ask? Their… cult (?) leader? Tearing one of those aliens apart with her bare hands. And the kids are just laughing and some are even joining in? They must have nerves of steel

💤needsomezzzzzzz Follow

Woah

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

@  HOCKEYORDEATH Hey look at this

372 notes

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Set a profile picture because apparently everyone’s blocking me thinking I’m a bot?

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Sorry CJ

9 notes

asprinkleofrazzmatazz said: Spread the sunshine ☀️ Post this in at least 5 ask boxes to let them know they make you happy

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Aww, hey Orange

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Hey, where’s my ask

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Orange?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Oh 

10 notes

asprinkleofrazzmatazz said: Spread the bugs 🪳 Post this in at least 5 ask boxes to let them know they’re bugging you

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Two can play at this game

🎨asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Jk ☀️☀️☀️

29 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I remember the good old days on tumblr. Back when my brothers didn’t know the name of my account. Back when they didn’t bug me in my inbox

🍞shortbutsweetbread Follow

Then make another one?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Gasp. And leave behind a username such as this? I’m attached.

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

What about your sister?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

You’re fine

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Favouritism 

128 notes

🐱sophinophie Follow

Whoever you heroes are

Thank you.  

❤️🧡💜💙

#I don’t know how you did it. Or what you even look like #but one thing is for sure and that’s that you are heroes 

189 notes

[nickmarini]

Hi! I absolutely loved you in Downfall and it was incredible to see the rp chemistry you have with Brennan. I’m sure his long running home game that you’re a player in is very special and I was wondering if there are any standout moments that you’d be willing to share!

Huge fan, hope to see you in the d20 dome some day!

Thank you so much! Brens home game is so special and has been a massive part of my life. There are some truly insane moments, one of my last roles was maybe the most epic roll I have ever made but that would require an essay to explain lol. I think it’s deserving of a fireside telling.

One of the funniest moments of tormenting Bren was when in a fight against a bunch of fairies, one of them cast globe of invulnerability. In 3.5 tiny creatures get a large penalty to grappling. My character rides a huge sized gryphon. Huge creatures get an conversely large bonus to grapple.My gryphon simply flew over and grappled the fairy by attempting to eat it. I then flew around the battle fighting a bunch of sorcerers with a mobile globe of invulnerability emanating from its mouth. Bren was not happy about it.

One time we were attacking this evil wizard/sorcerers tower in the middle of the ocean and when we arrived cast a bunch of buff spells to get ready to fight. Bren then described that where we entered was a long staircase and 10+ min later we were still climbing and all our buffs had expired 😂🤣 it was a dastardly piece of architecture by a wizard who knew his durations.

But honestly so many of the truly standout moments came from being with my best friends of 15 years sitting around a table playing a game. Crying over losing an npc or jumping for joy over a much needed win. As much as I love mechanics and some good dice rolling nothing beats telling a story with your friends and loved ones, or walking into the apartment where you’re going to play for the first time in 6 months and seeing people you love. We tell stories because stories help build community and those communities are what will always stand out most to me.

[sonnet009games]

Demonology: Incubus Master Post & FAQ

AVAILABLE CHAPTERS

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

EXTRAS

Chapter 1.5 | Chapter 2.5 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4.5

Flea Q&A

Playlist

FAQ

Q: How many chapters is Incubus going to be?

A: Probably around 10.

Q: What's the release schedule?

A: The plan is to release each chapter no more than 1-2 months apart.

Q: When will the final chapter be released?

A: 2025 sometime at the earliest.

Q: Will Incubus be released as a complete game with all the chapters in one?

A: No, almost certainly not.

Q: Will there be a discount if I wait to buy all the chapters at once?

A: The chapters will probably be collected into a itch.io bundle and sold with a $1 discount once the final chapter is released.

Q: I don't like to read/play unfinished stories. Should I wait for the final chapter before I start?

A: I completely understand--I'm the same! However, Incubus is a long-form narrative and was never really intended to be consumed all at once--though, of course, you can! Here's how the arcs play out chapter-wise: Chapters 1-3 = first arc Chapters 4-5 = second arc Chapter 6 onward = all standalone chapters So, hopping onboard after Chapter 3, Chapter 5, and then every chapter after that should provide enough satisfaction and closure for most players.

Q: Will you be releasing Incubus on any platforms other than as a downloadable for PC/Mac?

A: There are no current plans to do this while the story is still being released. I may evaluate my options at a later date, but this is no guarantee.

[3liza]

saw a youtube sponsorship for a brand that markets itself as "masculine shoes in small sizes, for trans men" and if the entire idea wasn't already preposterous (this is part of a large scale marketing push to convince trans people that clothing that has been available on the normal heterosexual market for generations is "hard to find" so they can charge you hundreds of dollars for it), it's also ugly, and they have chosen to call their company "Tomboy Toes". if you said those two words to my face in a shoe store i would slap you

$120 for a black or brown version of the standard school uniform brogue which has been available all the way down to toddler sizes since uhhhhhhh approximately 1820.

just to double check my sense of reality i went to the largest single online shoe market on earth besides Amazon (zappos) and typed in "women's brogues" and selected size 5 which would be pushing the lower limit on the larger part of the bell curve of adult AFAB people on earth, or at least the northern hemisphere, and there are many options in approximately the same price range depending on brand name, with sales regularly down to much less, on similar or identical styles. ebay also. Tomboy Toes carries down to size EU33 which is around 3.5 US Women's and again, that's just in the children's section if you need Picture Day/uniform (children)/ Office Whatever (adult) Shoes and they are on eBay lightly used in great numbers because kids grow out of them in 6-10 months.

is it annoying to be shopping in "women's section" or "kids section" for these things when you are an adult man. yes. so i dont understand the marketing impetus to replicate that exact scenario by naming your company for adult trans men something i would assume was a sassy yet misguided terf brand if i found it on a label in a generic wingtip at Goodwill. cis men who are very small also have to shop in the small sections for their small clothes. i am wearing a t-shirt meant for a 7 year old right now, it says so on the label. it fits me better than any of the shirts i own that are made for the standard american adult. i literally have bigger things to worry about

naturally their "vegan leather" selection is much larger but again, it's ugly Trendy Booties that will fall apart in a year and are, i cant emphasize this enough, made of plastic, nothing special, and in standard women and children's sizes which are already plentiful at every shoe retailer. why are we letting these "trans brands" charge us a $100 tax to pretend to take us seriously (while at the same time calling us "tomboys")? does anyone know

i do, its actually because of the learned helplessness issue again. the accepted wisdom at the tumblr layer of transness is 'its so hard to find [item of clothing that is suitable for trans people]" because the knowledge of how to shop for these items in the actual market has completely evaporated within the last ten years, i watched it happen right in front of me. but it's a complete fallacy, you can find this stuff easily. you can find large women's shoes, small men's shoes, women's clothing with wide shoulders or long torsos, there are entire stores for this already and measurements and sectiions within "department stores" (such as they are) and then after that there are one million billion foam inserts and seams and button placements and belts and scarves and gloves and hem lengths and blah blah blah that trans people and also cis people who are not standard-shaped or who just want their shoes or bras or shirts to fit have already been using for thousands of years so ive been mad about this all day. TOMBOY TOES. they are having us for absolute fools. just call me a slur at this point

i already know some nincompoop is going to match me paragraph for paragraph in a heated defense of the hundred dollar jingle keys boring shoes so i just want them to know in advance: we are not the same. i have so many cool shoes it is unbelievable. in every gender imaginable. and i didn't pay more than like $50 for any of them. also no theres no cheat sheet to learning to buy clothing for your body, i do not say this with any rancor either, its just hard, it takes a long time, and i dont have a cheatsheet for it because there isnt one. except rule #1: dont buy $120 boring ugly shoes from someone jingling their keys in front of your face and calling it Queer Fashion when you can get them for a lot less basically anywhere $120 isnt even a lot for a GOOD pair for mid-range, non-designer leather dress shoes. if you know they will last for ten years and stand up to resoling, it's completely fine. but not for thooooooose

[kelpstheshifter]

Introducing My 1950s Housewife Life

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

Abt me ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: Alice Lexington <33

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑨𝒈𝒆: 19 years old <33

˚୨୧⋆𝑯𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔: Childcare, Ballroom dancing, Dancing, Crocheting, Cooking, Cleaning, Baking, Sewing, Fashion Designing, Horseback Riding, Snow Skiing, and Horse Dressage

˚୨୧⋆𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚: American

˚୨୧⋆𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔: English, Spanish, Italian, Patois, German, Chinese, Tagalog, French

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑵𝒆𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉: 3.5 Billion Dollars

Relationships (mostly family) ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝑴𝒚 𝑯𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅, 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑳𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑨𝒈𝒆: 42

We married 2 months ago, but we dated a year before that. I am this man's PRINCESS. He is the CEO of the biggest oil company in the world (It's generational) and he's an amazing man, whom I love dearly. This man basically created Princess Treatment. When he's not working on business deals and such he's at home being a great husband and father. He loves the piano, collecting vintage cars, and yachting. He's the whole package and I love him.

𝑴𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝑫𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒉 𝑳𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑨𝒈𝒆: 15

Deborah and I are 4 years apart, we went to the same high school and we were friends, but not extradionarily close since I was a senior and she was a freshman when we met. We get along well and now that we're family we're the best of friends.

𝑴𝒚 𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑨𝒈𝒆: 22

Frances and I are best friends because of our husbands but that doesn't mean we love each other any less. Our husbands (Charles was my boyfriend at the time) introduced us to each other at a Charity Banquet and we hit it off immediately. When we're at our homes in the suburbs we talk shit about the other moms, bake, drink, and dance together. This woman is my other half.

𝑴𝒚 𝑯𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑨𝒈𝒆: 26

This is John, He's Frances' husband and a very close friend of Charles. Charles considers him as his little brother. He inherited his father's spot in the Lexington Oil Company so he's very wealthy and highly ranked amongst the families. This is man can DANCE. When we all go dancing if I'm not dancing with Frances or Charles I'm dancing with him. He's such a gentleman, he's into pottery and swimming. I actually scripted a scenario where he teaches me pottery. I love him. Frances bagged herself a GREAT man.

𝑴𝒚 𝑮𝒐𝒅𝒔𝒐𝒏, 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑱𝒓.

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑨𝒈𝒆: 5 months

I LOVE MY GODSON! Me and Charles are the godparents of Frances and John's beautiful baby boy. Whenever me and Frances are hanging out in our houses in the suburbs we watch him while tidying up, baking, or watching movies. He's my pride and joy I love this kid.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒐𝒈𝒔, 𝑺𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝒆𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑨𝒈𝒆: 1 year old and 4 years old

Scruffy is Charles' German shepherd and Pepper is the poodle he surprised me with when we first started dating. They're best friends and you can NOT separate these two I swear. They have such different personalities, Scruffy being a rough-housing hooligan and Peppers being this proper and polite baby. I love them both dearly and they mean the world to me.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼⋆𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒓˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼⋆

ᡣ𐭩 Racism is not a problem in this reality

ᡣ𐭩 The Lexingtons are the richest family on earth while the Williamsons are the twenty-first richest

ᡣ𐭩 We own 3 houses the Lexington Villa, Mansion, Beach house, and then a whole bunch of miniature properties that I did not take the time to memorize

ᡣ𐭩 All the wealthy families get together for banquets, fundraisers and balls a few times a year

ᡣ𐭩 The world is always like the 1950s-60s even as time progresses

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 2

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev next–⊱

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

chapter word count: 3.5 k

content warnings: mild panic attack, blanket warnings

a/n: Zeke was so difficult to write, so I hope I made his character justice. Like three months ago I was a bit neutral -if not indifferent- towards his character, but now I think he is my favorite. I need to pick his brain apart lmao. I think I am getting the hang of him though.

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 foot against the floor filled the room, creating an unlikely harmony with the dripping faucet and the creak of old wood. You lean back against the chair furthest from both doors, teetering on the brink of falling

You swing your weight back, just so managing to catch yourself before you topple down to the dusty floor. Your heart begins to slow down after the spike of adrenaline, yet still doesn’t reach a steady pace.

And whose would, in this situation? You are stuck in an old creepy house, in the room next to two people who unsettled you even while being on the other side of a screen.

You debate picking the lock on the front door, or maybe smashing a window to escape the suffocating atmosphere. The walls close in on you, the air is sucked out of the space, and the sink won't stop dripping. Your eyes glaze over, tuning out reality

Drip

The house is destroyed in a blaze of giant footsteps, the ceiling crumbles and the kitchen is buried under flaming rubble. The square where people strolled earlier is walked on for the last time.

Drip.

Libero is diminished to nothing more than a barren wasteland, flattened down by the will of a puppeteer turned puppet. Screams stop, replaced by the wet crunches of flesh and blood.

Drip.

The music crescendos. You know. You know and yet you are still unable to do anything, frozen under the dead eyed stare of colossal titans. Your bones are crushed, your consciousness dissolves.

Drip.

Your heavy breathing is interrupted by an opening door, your eyes shooting to the threshold, looking up from where you have curled up on yourself. Yelena scans you over and nods towards the space behind her.

When you blink, you are already halfway across the room, your feet robotically bringing you next to her. You take a deep breath as discreetly as you can, glancing at Yelena when she moves to the side, inviting you in.

You push the door forwards and are brought eye to eye with Zeke Jaeger, the holder of the beast titan, member of the royal family, and the closest way you have of getting back home.

The breeze stills as his gray eyes move from the teacup to you. All in the room is sunk in shadows –not yet processed by your brain– but him. If this were a play, the stage would be pitch black and a ray of limelight would be shining on his person.

Zeke stands, dwarfing your frame, and extends a hand. You hesitate for a moment before gripping it tightly.

“Hello there,” he greets, offering you a smile. You are so taken by his presence that you almost don't notice the door closing behind you.

“Come sit.”

He nods towards a sofa situated in front of his own. The only thing offering a buffer in between is a small coffee table, set with a steaming teapot and two metal cups.

You awkwardly follow his instructions, glancing once at the cup in front of you. A bottle of wine flashes through your mind.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how you take your tea, so apologies if it's not to your taste.”

Zeke continues the one sided conversation by himself, seemingly not bothered by your lack of engagement. He swirls around his own tea, a dark liquid that glitters when hit by the sunlight coming through a small window, parallel to the door.

You tentatively grab the cup, letting the warmth seep into your hands.

“Thank you,” you utter, not really knowing what else to say.

He chuckles and takes a sip from his own, scanning you up and down with more subtlety than Yelena. You wonder how you look from his perspective. Is he evaluating you as a threat? Or as a tool?

“I’m Zeke Jaeger,” yeah, you know, “and it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“Y/n.”

You bring the warm cup to your lips seconds after introducing yourself, frowning softly at the bitter taste. You would add sugar if it did not mean having to put the cup down and continue the conversation.

“Well, Miss Y/n, what can you tell me about the story of Ymir?”

You almost choke on the tea, barely remembering how to breathe afterwards.

He can't possibly know… right?

“I don’t… I'm not her,” you repeat, remembering Yelena’s first words to you.

“Now, I know that,” Zeke continues, “but that’s not what I asked.”

He shifts in place, and the gesture reminds you of your father scolding you after breaking a window with a baseball. Not mad, not even chastising, but instead presenting you with the problem and asking you to reflect on its error.

What ultimately dooms you is not that you are familiar with information that you shouldn't be familiar with, but that you're aware that you shouldn't know it. Innocent people would be nervous, sure, but they would answer.

You hesitate.

And you decide to tell the truth. Or at least half of it, anyway.

“I'm not… from here,” you start cautiously, gouging Zeke's reaction to your obvious revelation. He, predictably, stays silent, inviting you to continue.

“I think–” you take a deep breath. “I think I might be from another universe.”

That gets a reaction out of him. You catch an almost imperceptible flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly covered up by his nonchalant demeanor.

“Another… universe?” he asks, pausing in between words.

You nod, your throat suddenly closing up. Regret eats you alive, but you push forward, knowing that the man sitting in front of you was your current best bet at returning.

“There's a story. About her. Ymir,” you specify, the words bubbling up faster than you can process them. You let the dam flow, and now there was no stopping it. The dam, however, still acts as a filter, and you are cautious enough to trim and edit your story to your convenience.

“I read it. I'm not supposed to be here.”

Your last words come out in a hushed whisper, a plea for him to help you. You hate the idea of revealing some of your cards to him, but since he was half of the only two people who could currently access the paths and Ymir, Zeke was your only option if you wanted to communicate with the deity.

“So there's a story, in your… universe–” he pushes through the word like it's made of thick syrup, “ –that basically spells out our own history?”

You timidly incline your head in assent, feeling shy after throwing the ball to his court. There's a small crack in your mug that you trace over and over again, the repetition helping ground your attention instead of spiraling.

Zeke meditates over your words for a minute, his hand coming up to stroke his chin repeatedly. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turning behind his gray eyes, figuring out the likelihood of your story being true.

“You know of the paths, and of the conditions to access them.” He looks up to you again, searching for confirmation. You nod. “You know of my brother too.”

Zeke's eyes narrow, analyzing you once again. You feel like an old, dusty tome, locked away in an ancient library, promising knowledge to those who can decode its secrets.

He hums, processing the extent of your knowledge. You are hesitant to give him any more information that will expose the true reach of it.

“I need to get home,” you continue, not wanting to take part in the horrors to come. Sure, you would absolutely love to meet your favorite characters, but you don't fancy being turned to mush or shot at with a pistol.

And you have a life there. Friends, family.

Are they wondering where you are? Would they look for you?

You cage those thoughts in a box and throw it deep, deep in your mind. Now is not the time to spiral.

“You want me to look through the paths for a solution.” Zeke finishes your train of thought, looking down, and you give him an affirmative nod. While you didn't know of the thing –or things– that brought you here, maybe a higher power could take you back. Thus, Ymir.

Ymir is the closest to a god you had here, and the world be damned if you wouldn’t pray at her feet for a chance at going home. You almost feel like a devout follower, willing to make a pilgrimage for an opportunity to be heard.

You let Zeke process your request, and after a moment he sighs, turning his head to you.

“I know we just met,” he starts. “But I’m going to need you to trust me. If there is anything, anything at all in that story that could be relevant I need you to tell me.”

Your throat dries, and your tongue refuses to cooperate, turning as heavy as lead. No sound comes out of your mouth, so you close it, only to open it again.

“I trust you,” you lie in a raspy voice.

Zeke does not believe you, obviously, but neither does he make an effort to refute your statement. He simply nods, and the silence envelopes both of you until he speaks again.

“Well, let's get you situated then.” Zeke stands up, offering you a hand. “You are supposed to be staying with me, after all.”

In the whirlwind of the conversation you had forgotten all about your cover story. Holy shit. You are going to be living with the very real Zeke Jaeger. Concern rises in your mind, remembering Marley’s obsession with keeping Eldians in line.

“And before I forget. Here.”

His hand dips into his front coat pocket and extracts a ruby red armband embroidered with a white nine point star. Your white armband rustles against your jacket when you take it off, allowing Zeke to tie the new one around your bicep.

“Isn’t there going to be an issue with my, I don't know, blood status? Someone mentioned blood tests at the station.”

No one had mentioned tests, actually, but you feel confident enough that it's such a small detail that Zeke won't bother confirming it with Yelena. Why would he verify such a trivial sentence, when the threat of being seen with her far outweighs the risks?

A single drop of blood would confirm that you're not Eldian, not Marleyan, not anything else. No family or government to respond to too, in case the higher ups wanted to run trials with your genetic material.

“Oh, don't worry about it,” he waves off your concerns. “People in charge are more worried about an Eldian pretending to be Marleyan, rather than the other way around. Puts things into perspective.”

He takes the now obsolete piece of fabric from your hand and lets it take the empty place inside his pocket.

“What does red mean?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“You are part of my family now,” Zeke responds. “I am a Warrior, and we get special privileges as such. I will explain everything later, I promise. But we have to move.”

Zeke gives you a reassuring smile, and a small, treacherous part of your heart is comforted.

When you get out of the small room, you discover that Yelena had already left, leaving nothing to betray her presence in the house. Smart plan, you think. Yelena and Zeke could not be connected yet in the eyes of Marley. She probably just retrieved you because of the trust already placed upon her.

You follow Zeke out into the alley, and continue down an unfamiliar path until you arrive at a quaint street, flanked by living quarters. You pay half your attention to Zeke’s chattering, and half to committing to memory the scenery.

“I’m sure she already told you,” –he skips over Yelena’s name– “but your father was a distant relative of mine, on my mother’s side.” A lie, obviously. Still, a convenient one. Now he had a reason to keep you under his wing, even if he lived one of the most supervised lives in Marley.

“My parents are a touchy subject with my grandparents, but they shouldn't have a problem with you.” His steps are light and breezy, his slow pace aiding you in falling into a similar stride. “Still, try not to mention her. Keep the comments about your family at a minimum.”

Zeke halts his walking, almost causing you to bump into his figure. His eyes pierce into yours, wanting to transmit the importance of his statement.

“The best stories can still be unraveled when exposed enough.”

He doesn’t need to expand on it. You get a feeling that he's not just talking about your fake backstory. You nod, digging your fingernails into your palms. Zeke smiles and continues on his path.

You stay frozen on the sidewalk a little longer, before shaking your head and jogging to catch up.

“So, uh, you live with them? Your grandparents?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Down the street from them. You'll have your own space, don't worry.”

“Oh, I didn't mean–”

“It's okay, I know how you teenagers get. I've been personally acquainted with some.”

Zeke lets out a hearty chuckle, looking straight ahead. The late afternoon sun rays bounce off his already golden hair, giving him an almost ethereal look. It drenches your coat too, melting the original beige into something more blinding.

You and Zeke strut through town, coming up to a nicer neighborhood than the one with the seedy house. It is still nothing compared to some buildings out in Liberio, and yet you feel a shift in the general vibe.

A distant person raises their left arm in greeting and you notice a difference in their attire. A striking yellow armband has taken the place of the pure white ones, and as Zeke raises his own arm, you recognize that his own armband is blood red.

“That’s Johann Grice,” his voice points out to you, lowering his hand and resuming his walk up some stairs towards a door . “He's got a boy I’m… mentoring. Around your age I'd say.”

You feel a little uncomfortable at the revelation, Colt’s death feeling like a grim reminder of what you feel like you are condemning this world to. Would Johann Grice wave to you if he knew you were sentencing his eldest son to death?

“I'll introduce you later, come on.”

Zeke knocks on a house’s door, his tall body shielding you from half the field of vision of the threshold. A kind looking old woman opens the door, her tired eyes instantly softening at the view of her grandson.

“Zeke!” she greets with a smile. “What a nice surprise. We weren't expecting you until much later.”

Zeke hugs the woman you assume to be his grandma, Mrs Jaeger, and greets her back.

“The train came much earlier than expected,” he explains, breaking the hug and moving a little to the side, exposing you to Mrs Jaeger. “This is Y/n. The girl I told you about, daughter of the dead soldier.”

You give a nervous smile to the old woman, shyly raising your wand to wave, before deciding that that’s not something a normal person would do to someone standing meters in front of them. The result is a jumbled motion of your arm jerking up before clunkily returning to its resting pace.

“Hello,” you instead try. “It's nice meeting you.”

Mrs Jaeger surprises you when she pulls you in for an unexpected hug, making you freeze up before tentatively putting your arms around her, returning the gesture.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she exclaims, seemingly touched by your fake story. “I am very sorry for what happened to your father.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

You notice Zeke giving you a small, reproachful look from behind her grandma's shoulder, still holding you in an embrace. You answer with your own lost expression, wordlessly transmitting that, while you were aware of your robotic response, you still didn’t know how else to act.

“Come in, come in.” Mrs Jaeger ushers you inside. “My husband’s just upstairs, I'll go call him. You make yourself at home, dear.”

She retreats up the stairs after giving you a smile, leaving you alone with Zeke in the kitchen. The sound of the creaky floorboards gets softer as she ascends, and you follow her footsteps with your head.

You are standing still in the same place as when you entered, feeling very out of place in the small home. You lock eyes with Zeke, whose eye corners are creased with his own small grin.

“They’re nice,” you mumble, making his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

Zeke strolls past you to the counters, opening and closing many in quick succession. He rummages through cabinets, his hand emerging from one of them with a small, silver tin. The opened tin is offered to you, and you peer inside it, identifying small, powdery biscuits.

The flour stains your fingers white as you wordlessly take one, nibbling on it to have something to do with your hands. Zeke takes another before storing the tin where he found it, next to the leak-free faucet and the pile of firewood for the stove.

You exchange words with Mrs Jaeger and her husband when they come down, and they assure you that if you ever need anything, you can just ask. You nod awkwardly at their offer, noting at their coddling behavior. You remember Faye, and just as quickly you push her out of your thoughts.

They offer you dinner, which you refuse, still too jittery to eat anything more than the small cookie. After bidding the couple goodnight, you and Zeke exit their house and make your way to an adjacent residence, where Zeke unlocks the front door, placing a duplicate of the key in your palm.

“Home sweet home,” he says as he leads you inside a property nearly identical to the previous one. The only difference is in the personal items, small trinkets strewn across tables and shelves. Zeke approaches something behind you, you hear a click and light floods the room.

He motions for you to follow him upstairs, turning to a door down the hall across the railing. Picture frames are hung up on the walls of the hallway, small tidbits of Zeke’s life bringing color to the wooden corridor.

This only serves as a striking contrast to the bedroom you are shown, the bare room only containing a bed, small desk, dresser, and shelves, lined with old books. Your eyes zero in on two of them, a red one with what you assume to be anatomy drawings, and another with paw prints across the spine.

A small breeze flows through the window above the bed, making the light blue curtains sway gently in the wind. Zeke walks towards the desk, igniting the small candle lamp that then coats the space in a warm light.

“This is your room,” Zeke makes a flourish with his hand, akin to a circus ringmaster. “You'll find some clothes there,” he points to the drawers. “I can have them mended if they don't fit.”

“Thank you,” you fumblingly answer, taking a few hesitant steps past the door frame, towards the book with the paw prints.

Your fingers trace over the unknown symbols of the cover, the runes forming what you were sure to be the title. Yet, you couldn’t decipher what it was supposed to mean. Zeke strides over to stand by your side, examining your pick in literature.

“What, you’re interested in–” he squints his eyes at the book in your hands, “ –The Beginners Guide to Observing Wildlife? I didn't know I still had that,” he mutters.

“Is that what this is?”

Zeke shoots you a confused look, making you turn your gaze downwards. You mess with a small piece of the cover that is coming off, hesitating.

“I can't read it.”

The confession tastes bitter in your tongue, and you feel strangely embarrassed at not knowing the written language of a world that was not supposed to exist. Your cheeks burn and you turn your face to the side, quickly returning the book to the shelf.

Zeke's face softens, and he places a comforting hand on your back. You can practically feel older brother energy oozing from his figure, and you feel like a small kid again, knowing everything in the world, and yet ignorant of so much more.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, patting you back. “Goodnight. I'll be down the hall if you need anything.”

The door closes behind him, and you are truly alone for the first time since… well, since you were home. Home sweet home, Zeke had said. Sweet, maybe, you think, the sugar from the biscuits still coating your tastebuds. Home? Not really.

You find cotton pajamas in a drawer below the book lined shelves, and you make a quick work of slipping them on. Crawling into the covers after blowing out the candle, you find yourself revisiting the quick succession of events today, from the ruins, to the train, to the internment zone.

Your heart squeezes painfully, discomfort beginning to stir beneath your flesh. You fall into restless, interrupted sleep, lulled by the distant sound of train whistles.

taglist: @dressycobra7 @xngelsau

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[lewkwoodnco]

"Slut!" - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: been having a lottt of thoughts about this song. it wasn't what I expected like for a lot of ppl but this is immediately my favourite?? like idk man those hints of her rep era beginning mixed with the emotional vulnerability of being in love mannn im going to be annoying abt this for a wholeee month. Reader is a Fittes agent, wc 5.4k!!

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 3.5 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

On paper, her employers had always commended her for her drive for excellence. What was usually glossed over was how it arose from an unhealthy obsession with perfection, not that it mattered. And yet, glowing articles about successful cases were rare and far between. She had led as many successful cases as some of her male colleagues, but those headlines were seemingly too dull for her sex. After all, who wanted to read about a woman showing up the men in her field? So the tabloids started to play dirty, spinning convoluted rumoured love stories from any and every photo of her in the vicinity of a man.

She remembered how devastating the first article was. Instead of publishing one of the many photos of her standing with her team, there was a shadowed, grainy photograph of her talking to their supervisor. She tried to tell anyone who asked her that no, they weren't kissing, not that it would have mattered if it did, but no one seemed much interested in listening. The shame burnt into the side of her face like a scarlet letter. A slut.

Eventually, she decided to just keep everyone at arm's length. Maybe if she kept her head down long enough they'd run out of knives to throw at her. And for a good two years, it somewhat worked, or at least helped. But then she met Lockwood.

She didn't think much of him at first - if anything, she resented his suave, silver tongue and how the press went nuts for his charismatic smiles. He tried to dazzle her with one when they first met, and she nearly scoffed.

"Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood and Co. And you are...?"

"Disgusted."

She tried talking to Barnes, throwing in some less-than-complimentary opinions on Lockwood, but he just waved her off. Eventually, she came around, but only because he was undeniably skilled, and it would have been unprofessional to freeze him out forever.

She remembered the first time he made her smile. Their supervisor was having them sign their case report, so she wasn't even looking at him. He whispered some inane remark which caught her completely off-guard, but it was enough to make her damage the tip of the fountain pen as she choked on a laugh. Her supervisor looked unimpressed, grumbling about the pen, but Lockwood's face had taken on an animated spark.

"Oh, good. I was beginning to wonder if you knew how to smile."

The smile is a foreign feeling on her face. Lockwood gently takes the report from her and starts talking in smooth tones that flow right over her head. She shakes herself and tries to pull herself together, trying to soothe the nervous flutter of her heart. She can only bear catching glimpses of his words and she struggles to string together coherent responses.

But then she hears the vans pulling up. Vans filled with news agencies and their bulky cameras. She's paralysed by a flash of fear and she jumps apart from Lockwood as if burnt, tripping over her words as she forces out some lame excuse of needing to check on her team. Lockwood looks mildly concerned, but she pushes it to the back of her mind.

They meet again a week or two later. She's sitting outside a conference room, waiting for Barnes to finish a meeting, and she realises with a start that the man in the room she's facing is Lockwood. To be fair, she hadn't seen him in an indoor setting before, and he seemed nearly unrecognisable with his typically crisp shirt dusty and wrinkled, with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. She watches him laugh over something with one of his associates as they leave the room, and she drinks in the sight like a man starved. There is something so desperately appealing about the vitality in his face and jaunty movements.

As the smile fades, she recognises the exhaustion on his face; the kind that made her want to do nothing more than stumble home and crawl under the covers. But then he sees her, and he gives her a teasing smile that stokes her spirits. His associate gives her a tired wave and walks out.

"Waiting for me?"

She rolls her eyes and nods towards the conference room. "Waiting for Barnes. Going home?"

He jerks his head noncommittally before sitting down next to her. He looks oddly bare without his coat, and it feels almost too intimate to have him sitting this close to her. She sits up, alarmed.

"What, you need to see him too?"

"You look like you could use some company."

"Lockwood, it could be hours before he's done. Besides, you look like death. Go home, get some rest."

"Joke's on you, I always look like death."

She shakes her head but smiles despite herself. "You're incorrigible."

"Thank you."

They sit in silence for a while, long enough until her breathing evens out. She wonders if he's aware of the way his fingers drum restlessly on his thigh, or the ash coating the side of his face, or how both of those things make him utterly irresistible.

"How do you do it? Stay so young, I mean."

He considers his answer carefully. She takes in the sight of a Lockwood without a ready quip at the tip of his tongue. "I suppose it helps that I'm not singly obsessed with the dead, though it does get close sometimes. Who do you live with?"

"Oh, my family lives outside of London." Thank god. She couldn't imagine the looks on their faces if they heard half of what London's tabloids had to say about her.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. But it's not so bad. There's a cat that wanders in the street below my flat at night." He doesn't look completely convinced, but he lets it slide.

"Really, I owe it all to my friends - oh, you'd love them. You should come over sometime."

"That's sweet of you."

"Our weekends are generally empty."

"Oh...I couldn't. I don't know where you live."

"35 Portland Row."

"Lockwood," she admonishes. "Don't you think this is something you should run by your friends first?"

"I've done worse."

"I'm practically a stranger."

"Then how else are we supposed to get to know you?"

Her mind tears her away from Lockwood's silhouette, to troubling piles of tabloids dragging her to filth. After months of them, she isn't sure where she ends and where the fabrication begins. She barely manages a whisper.

"I think you'd regret getting to know me."

She doesn't realise how tightly her fist is clenched until he brushes her wrist, and the tension flows out of her. His eyes are liquid and his touch is golden and she's paralysed with dizziness. In that moment, it was enough to be young and in love.

"Only one way to find out."

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

She takes him up on his invitation sooner than either of them expected. They had just finished a job at a house just a street over from Portland Row, and her team was walking with Lockwood & Co. on their way to the main street. She pauses as George fiddles with the frozen door while the rest of her team walk on, tiredly waving them good night. But just as she turns to leave, she slips on a patch of ice, falling into a pile of snow while Lockwood lunges for her.

"Dear god, you must be freezing. Come in and warm up."

"It's alright, I can catch a cab home-"

"Y/N, I am not above pushing you back into the snow."

Her laugh morphs into a violent shiver, just as Lucy walks over concernedly.

"Everything okay? Lockwood's not bullying you, is he?" She cracks a small smile, but Lockwood just impatiently ignores Lucy.

"Stay for breakfast. Spend the day. Lucy would love the company. Luce, tell her."

"It would be nice."

"I'm soaked through. I need a change of clothes."

"Lucy can get you a change of clothes. Luce, tell her."

"I can get you a change of clothes."

"I wouldn't want to be an imposition."

Lockwood inhales and turns to Lucy, who smacks the breath right out of him.

"I'm right here, Lockwood. Don't be ridiculous, Y/N, we'd love to have you over." Lucy exchanges a look with Lockwood, but it's so brief she wonders if she's imagined it, but it's just then that George forces the door open, and she gets jostled into their warm and dry home. Lucy helps her dry off and tosses her some clothes, including a spare oversized jumper, before bundling her and setting her down in front of the fire in the library.

It feels wonderfully cosy at first, and she only realises she's dozed off when she wakes up with a crick in her neck and beads of sweat on her forehead and neck. She pushes the blankets off her, sighing in relief as she starts to cool down. She hears the rustle of a page behind her and turns.

Lockwood is sitting in an armchair behind her, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, a magazine on his lap. He smiles weakly at her, wincing as he rotates his neck. She was beginning to feel convinced that he ate, slept and worked in the same set of clothes. Her voice is gravelly with sleep.

"Still up?"

"Someone had to make sure you didn't roll into the fire. Besides, it hasn't been long."

She squints at the clock hung near the door. Unless the shadows were playing tricks on her, it was only a few hours from dawn. The glance he shared with Lucy earlier flashes in her mind, and she presses him about it.

"Say, you haven't told Lucy anything particularly saddening about me, have you?"

He waffles a bit. "I haven't said anything that isn't true."

"Lockwood."

"Fine...I might have mentioned how you live alone, and that you've only got a cold, dark home waiting for you. Alone."

"I didn't say that."

"So you're saying it's not true?"

She hesitates, and he quirks the corner of his mouth triumphantly. "It's no bother, Y/N. Lucy feels as bad about it as I do - George too. Just let us fuss over you for a while, I promise it'll soothe us."

She relents, but she's not happy about it. She watches him lazily flip through the pages with a becoming interest and decides that it's a nice change from the frantic energy running through him on cases. His eyes stay mostly fixed on the pages, but after a while the way he glances up occasionally makes her think his interest is waning. He looks at her strangely, and she unpleasantly realises that the jumper is likely his. She tugs at the hem, itching to take it off, but she isn't wearing a shirt underneath, so she settles for continuing to profusely apologise.

"I'm so sorry for burdening all of you-"

"Y/N, relax. As long as you're warm."

"Well...I'm awake now. And I won't stay too close to the fire. Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I'm a bit wired after the case. Might take a nap later in the day." He jerks his head towards the door. "My room's just down the hallway if you'd like to get some proper rest."

She flushes; talking about his bedroom while wearing his jumper feels too intimate to bear. "It's okay. I'd rather stay here with...you." She chews the inside of her cheek as soon as she says it, holding her breath as she gauges his reaction.

"That's a relief. I'd rather you be here anyway."

She doesn't understand how he says it so casually when she feels that she might run out of air. She tries to calm herself down, taking deep, long breaths. She could be normal if she tried hard enough. They spend the rest of the night like that, somehow never running out of topics to discuss. He tells her about Jessica. She tells her about her family. It's only as he gets up to get ready for breakfast that she asks him about the magazine in his lap. "What were you reading?"

Now it's his turn to look embarrassed. "Oh, er, I like to keep up with what's happening around town -"

"Is that...a tabloid?" She pulls out one of the magazines sticking out of the pile set to the side and blanches at the headline with a dramatically edited photograph of her. Shame burns the side of her face, and she wishes the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. She had stupidly assumed he hadn't heard of her before meeting her, but why shouldn't he have? The magazines beat her to making a first impression, just like they always have. Just like they always will.

"I can explain."

"No, no, it's fine." Was something wrong with her ears, or did her voice sound a bit too distant? "Lots of people read tabloids. It doesn't mean anything. Anyway, we should get ready for breakfast."

"Y/-"

"Lockwood. I mean it. Drop it." The cut-up look in his eyes is bad enough without an apology. What was he apologising for? For her being such For her being a laughingstock? He bows his head and shuffles out of the library. She stays there, frozen, sitting on the floor, until she hears George rattling about in the kitchen. She walks in, slightly disconcerted by the casual t-shirt Lockwood had changed into. So many of his hard edges and shadows in the the library seemed to soften into a more vulnerable outline that makes her regret snapping at him. She mumbles a greeting and George takes a long look at her. If he notices their matching eye bags, he doesn't comment on it, but while she's making tea, she hears a scuffle behind her and turns to see George standing next to Lockwood with the frying pan alarmingly close to his head.

"Eggs, Y/N?"

Lucy arrives soon after, and begins to spread jam on her toast despite George's aggrieved protests.

"Oh, Y/N, I hope you didn't spend all night on the hard floor. I didn't hear you come up to the attic."

"The attic?"

"Yeah, where the extra bed is." She brandishes her jelly-covered knife vaguely threateningly. "Lockwood told you about it, didn't he?"

The boy in question seems a bit too busy buttering his bread to look up. She mumbles an affirmative, but notices his reluctance to meet her eye for majority of breakfast. Still, she couldn't stay mad at him for long, and it didn't seem awfully polite to, either, not after he opened his home to her.

After breakfast, Lockwood left to scope out a potential client and George headed to the Archives for a bit of light reading, so she and Lucy spend the morning playing board games and watching crappy television while painting their nails. She hadn't felt so alive in months. After a few hours, Lucy suddenly remembers some paperwork she had to complete so while she's busy with that, she wanders around the stairs and hallways, reading every newspaper clipping and looking at every picture, eventually working her way down to the kitchen.

She hears a creak coming from the inside and looks in. Lockwood's returned from his excursion and he shrugs off his jacket, placing it on one of the kitchen chairs as she timidly steps in. He seems just as much at a loss for words as her. She tries to break the ice and, surprisingly, it works.

"Seems a bit full of yourself to litter the halls with your achievements." He gives her a small smile and she revels in the glimmer of success.

"Can't help that I'm especially gifted."

Emboldened, she takes a seat at the table as he pulls out an apple from the fruit bowl and a chopping board.

"Nasty business with the press, isn't it?"

She moodily fiddles with the thinking cloth. "Yeah, well. God forbid a woman be happy."

He looks at her like he's trying to figure her out. The attention makes her fidget nervously. They watch him slice the apple into halves, and then quarters, in silence. "Is that why you're so...highly strung on cases?"

"George tell you to talk to me?"

"Er, yes, but he didn't need to. I'm sorry about earlier, by the way. I have an uncanny ability of putting my foot in it."

"I'd never have guessed." She isn't even being sarcastic. She talks to the apple rather than him. "I hate it. They say all these...awful things about me. Not that I have to tell you." She blinks humourlessly. He sets down the knife.

"Y/N, if you think I believe a word those gossip rags have to say about you, I might be seriously overestimating your intelligence."

She swallows the lump in her throat. It's the nicest thing anyone has said to her in a long while. She never fully acknowledged it because that would mean admitting she cared, that she was weak. But she couldn't help it. She lived life forever looking over her shoulder, so wrapped up in what ifs that she could barely stomach what was, forever worrying that anyone would think it was true. Maybe it was true. Her self-perception contorts and convulses, until she feels strangely formless. But that was the beauty of the moment: hidden away in the dim light of the kitchen, with only Lockwood and God as her witness, she could be anything and everything.

Her hand trembles with repressed emotion. He steadies her by carefully covering it with his own.

And for one beautiful, transcendent moment, she thought she might love him.

She walks home in a pleasant haze, her senses enjoying the reprieve from their constant assault. She ambles by a florist, and she sees a rose. It reminds her of Lockwood. She buys the rose and takes it home, even though she knows she doesn't have a vase for it. Even after a day filled with the most fun she'd had in a while, a restlessness troubles her, making her feel feverish with some invisible affliction. She plucks the translucent petals one by one, holding them up to the setting sun streaming through her windows. She wonders what they would look like in his hair. She winces when one of the thorns break the skin of her thumb. She rubs the smear of blood onto her bottom lip. Looking up at the ceiling, her hair a mess, tangled with the rose petals strewn all over her wrinkled sheets, she realises what it means to be hopelessly and cluelessly lovesick.

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

She remembers the first time she cries in front of him. They were on a case at some billionaire's acres-large manor. She ducks under the tape cordoning off the area and freezes, seeing reporters unobtrusively yet steadily setting up their cameras. There had to be some sort of mistake, they're never here this early. Certainly not before they've even started the job. She feels her senses heighten and a faint buzzing teases her ears. She sees Lockwood glance at her and start walking towards her, and she all but flees in the other direction.

She stays a safe distance away from him until the rest of the agents arrive for their briefing. The billionaire's assistant hadn't arrived yet, so they were standing around one of the outdoor picnic tables in the front garden...right in front of the gathering sea of reporters. She tries her best to pay attention but there's a muffled quality to the discussion as she listens for shutter sounds, real or imagined. Her hands grow clammy and her breathing grows jagged as the ominous feeling in her stomach grows. Something very bad was going to happen and it was going to happen soon, she was sure of it.

As if in slow motion, she watches Lockwood reach across to pick up a file from the table beside her on the table, and she feels her panic reach a crescendo as she senses the ripple of excitement in the press. She flinches so badly before he completes the movement that he gets startled, backing away. The question dies on his lips as she walks away, clumsily adjusting her rapier to give her hands something to do. To stop herself from sobbing over the lenses in her peripheral vision.

The press are just as ruthless as they were the last time she made the mistake of not leaving the scene as soon as she had the chance. And still from the chorus of overlapping voices, one made her heart stop dead.

"Y/N L/N, what do you have to say for seducing London's most eligible bachelor?"

She looks around desperately, struggling against waves of despair that threatened to drag her down into the abyss. No one was safe, not even charismatic Lockwood, and it was all her fault for dragging him into her messy life. It wasn’t fair that news agencies chose her life to screw with. She loved him silly with bruised eyes and an aching liver, but she couldn't even look at him properly. She couldn't scrub the image of Lockwood's face from her mind. Hot shame spread from her spine up her neck, an unpleasant prickling sensation. She felt flayed and grotesque, a hundred different kinds of twisted and messed up. Promiscuous on paper, manic in reality, enraptured by what she could never have.

Lockwood finds her sitting on the patchy grass of the backyard, head resting against the wall with suspiciously red eyes. He thinks for a moment before sitting down next to her.

“Hey.”

She’s too busy holding back tears to respond. She despairs internally when she first hears his voice, wishing he didn't care enough about her to follow her. God, they were going to make her pay for this tomorrow. He speaks in a low, soothing voice, but there's an underlying disquiet that comforts her. She'd never have imagined him to feel rattled by the press like she did.

"It all happened so quick, even George didn't realise."

"Doesn't matter. They got what they wanted."

"We'll talk to the assistant as soon as she gets here. We'll refuse to work until they clear out."

She feels an overwhelming amount of relief, not just for his help, but just for him. Sitting here solidly, away from prying eyes, rumours and lies, he felt like a precious secret she wanted to keep. The relief doesn't last long until it gets poisoned into grief. She rasps out an apology.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything." She feels herself shutting down, unravelling at the seams. But then there's this warmth next to her and a solid, reassuring weight across her shoulders. She shakes with mostly silent sobs, not realising that she's crumpled his shirt from clenching it until later. She sniffles into his shirt like a child, and clings to him with the desperation of a drowning man.

He insists that she sits out for the case, and for once, she listens.

The next time they meet is a little bittersweet. She tells him she's being posted outside of London for a month. It's sobering news, even for him.

"A whole month. Well, it'll go by faster than you realise."

"I hope so."

"How're you feeling?"

"Nervous, I suppose." She was dreading it. She didn't know how she ever worked on a case before Lockwood. At first, she thought it was simply because he took attention from the press off her hands. But there was just something about his presence that made the tension coiled in her body unwind. She tries to keep her tone light, but something must have shown on her face because he sighs and throws an arm over her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd of agents, medics and reporters.

"Don't fret. You'll be fine, trust me. You'll have your teammates with you, Barnes is supervising and you know he can't stand the press, and I've yet to read a headline vicious enough to knock you down for good. You're stronger than you realise, you know." She nods glumly, dragging her feet along. She looks up when he pulls away slightly, frowning at her face. He rubs at the furrow in her brow and she feels her face heat up.

"I said to not fret. You have everything you need." That earns him a weak smile, and though he doesn't look entirely happy with it, he can see George looking around for him. She watches him walk back as he mouths 'one month' to her, trying to smile encouragingly. The sun has started to rise, and the dusk casts a soft purple glow on his hair. She mumbles her response to the wind.

"What if...all I need is you?"

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

The month drags by painfully, but it finally ends. She packs her bags and takes the first train to London, just in time to join Lockwood for a case after a bit of begging at Barnes' feet. The job is at another mansion, but somehow even more extravagant and sprawling than the last one. It's bathed in a soft bubblegum pink glow, spilling out into its lawns and hedges and fountains.

She watches him explaining something to one of her colleagues, making some light sketches on the report. He looks exactly the same if a little haggard, yet older somehow, and it tugs at her heart. She had heard that this was supposed to be the last of a particularly tedious string of connected cases, and it had clearly taken a toll on him. Her heart skips a beat at the boyish glow that washes over his features when he sees her.

"...and for the Limbless George was sa- you weren't supposed to be back till Sunday!"

She flushes, beaming excitedly. Part of her wants to hug him, but another part is too scared to, so she contends with her smile.

"We finished early, and I wore Barnes down eventually. Now, what's this about a Limbless?"

The case goes more than smoothly with the extra help of her and her team, and they end up finishing comfortably before midnight, though not without a few minor mishaps. She finds Lockwood with his sleeves and trousers rolled up, dangling his legs in the pool, scrubbing at his hands.

"Wet cement," he grunts as a greeting, looking peevishly at the not-so-clearly cordoned off patch of wet cement. "Ought to have told us. Someone could have gotten properly injured."

"Oh, who'd be silly enough to fall into that?"

"Let me rephrase that: Quill Kipps could have gotten properly injured."

She laughs, turning to add her own handprint next to his in the cement. She smiles coyly as she tenderly scrapes the residue of her palm. He leans in, then stops, sniffing curiously.

"Is that...smoke?"

"Had a bit of an incident with a salt bomb. Someone threw it in the wrong direction."

"Ah."

They're interrupted by a loud whoop from the other end of the pool. A couple of Fittes boys had broken into the liquor cabinet and were now the proud owners of three preciously high-end bottles of champagne. She tried to look at them reprovingly, but couldn't find it in her.

"Oh well. We'll put that down under property damage."

One of her teammates scurried over to clarify a discrepancy in her paperwork, and she leaves to sort it out. By the time she's back, Lockwood's tie is loosened and he's swaying along to some invisible music.

"Y/N! You've got to try some of this stuff, it's grrrreat!"

She shakes her head bemusedly. "Lockwood. How many glasses have you had?"

"Oh, just one." He blinks at the glass in his hand. "One and a half." He drags her in briefly, whispering into her ear. "Besides, what happened to being young?"

Her heart hammers as soon as she feels the tug on her wrist; she's never even touched him in public before. She scans the scene reflexively, but no one seems to have noticed. She supposed getting drunk and making ill-thought-out decisions was the youngest she could be, so she decided to have a little sip.

"Clink?"

"I don't think you're supposed to say it."

He makes a face, clearly more tipsy than he was letting on. "Whatever. I'm saying it."

Still, she humours him, and he looks at her with shameless adoration. Even while well on the way to getting drunk, there was an endearing tilt to his swagger and rosy cheeks that made his youth a delectable luxury. She takes a sip, then another, and then tries to drown herself in champagne, anything to distract her from the way he stole her breath, the fizz electric under her thrumming skin.

They return to where they were sitting earlier, watching some of the more boisterous agents splash into the pool. Someone manages to switch off the harsh floodlights overlooking the pool, washing everyone's outlines with a tangerine glow from the orange neon lights. They talk about their month apart, then catch the eye of the other in a way that makes them both look away, and the cycle repeats.

"I've missed you."

She can't tell which of them says it first, only that the yearning in her voice mirrored his. The look in his eyes scares her yet appeals to her daring all at once. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to.

"We...I...couldn't. It'd go horribly wrong, and you'd hate me, or they'd double down and it'd blow up in your pretty face."

"I'll take my chances." He says it so casually that it stings.

"This isn't exactly bearable for me either, you know."

The background noise fades away, and suddenly speaking at normal volume is too loud. She whispers, as if he might not hear if she's soft enough. "You give me your bed and twist your neck dozing in an armchair. You stick up for me when I'm too weak to stick up for myself. You pull me in when I'm breaking down and hold my fractured pieces together. I can't help but love you." He follows her line of vision to the camera lens peeking through the wall of foliage, not as sneaky as it was trying to be.

"And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in love with me."

He inhales roughly, and she recognises his unsteady breathing.

"Are you...?" Lockwood's voice makes her tear her eyes away from the lens, and focus on his soft brown tired eyes.

"...Might as well. Right?" She tries to hide how badly she needs his acknowledgement. He searches for something in her eyes she's not sure exists. Her heart is in her mouth as he tenderly covers her hand, and suddenly she's sitting at the kitchen table at Portland Row again; unsure and raw and hoping against hope for a love like his. He strokes the back of her hand with him thumb, deep in thought, as if soothing her, or maybe telling her to stop, breathe and think about this horrible decision.

"They'll publish the most horrible things tomorrow."

"I thought that didn't matter."

"Not to me. But it does for you."

"It's worth it. You're worth it."

He closes his eyes, and she watches his eyes shift restlessly behind his eyelids, as if fighting a losing battle. "They'll give you hell for it."

She whispers into his mouth. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't. They're watching either way."

His lips twitch. Her eyes flutter close. She inhales the space between them, their noses softly bumping against each other as they tilt their heads.

Slut.

She leans into him and her lips part as he deepens the kiss. She feels the tangerine neon light burn into the expanse of her exposed skin from her neck to her shoulder.

Slut.

She feels a hand on her lower back as she wraps an arm around his neck, craning her neck upwards. The kiss is equally delicious and bruising, and she feels herself getting drunk on his touch.

Slut.

The pressure on her lips fade and he pulls away, giving her the choice to back out. In the span of a second he shifts from a hazy sunset to the deep aquamarine pool in front of them, and then she's leaning in and devouring him like they could never be close enough.

Slut.

Her mind holds the whisper like a promise.

[nomercymaster11]

My Master list! (edited as of June 15, 2024)

~~~~RATED 18~~~

In his presence pt.2 - Love deepens as Law and his partner strengthen their bond. (⭐⭐⭐)

In his absence pt.1 - The waiting game when Law is out the sub. (⭐⭐)

Whispers of the Heart - Crew banter interrupts a daydream of a clandestine moment. (⭐)

Delicate Mornings - Law makes amends for a night's slumber. (⭐⭐⭐) ~continuation of tender nights

Harmony in the Icy Depths - Forbidden harmony at sea. (⭐⭐⭐)

Tender Nights - Law's late night affection. (⭐)

Dancing on the Precipice - Secret passions bloom amid celebration. (⭐)

Possession ver. 2.0 - Passionate encounter with Law; jealousy, desire, and unspoken complexities unfold. (⭐⭐)

~~~~NON RATED 18~~~~

My first ever series: HIATUS T_T I'm having trouble with a certain chapter. Sorry

Chapter 1: It’s complicated - Law rejects your confession to him. How will you cope?

Chapter 2: Two-way Dilemma

Chapter 3: Silent Longings

Chapter 3.5: We should talk

Chapter 4: Through Law's eyes

Chapter 4.5:

Chapter 5:

----

Surprises and Smiles - Happy Birthday Penguin!!

Inked Secrets - A playful prank reveals hidden truths, intertwining hearts on the rooftop.

Turbulent Currents - Heart Pirates breaking apart.

Possession - Law's silent declaration against Sanji.

Navigating Bonds: The Heart Pirates' reaction - Heart Pirates embrace evolving ties in uncharted seas of camaraderie.

Silent Tides - unspoken feelings for Law.

I recently rekindled my interest in the One Piece fandom two months ago after watching the One Piece Live Action on Netflix. I decided to rewatch the anime from Episode 1, and I'm proud to say that I've caught up. To achieve this, I committed to watching 100 episodes per week. Admittedly, it felt a bit intimidating given that One Piece has over a thousand episodes, and I had paused my watching right before the timeskip during the Sabaody Archipelago Arc. (Currently on Episode 1032, and although I initially didn't plan to be a weekly watcher, I can't help but get more and more into it!)

I used to be a Sanji fan, but it's been around eight years since I stopped watching the anime. Little did I know, I would fall in love with Law. Discovering more about him—his character, personality, dynamics—I thought, 'This man is the standard.' I wish I hadn't stopped watching One Piece back then, but here I am! I'm so happy and fully immersed that I've even started creating a Trafalgar Law shrine in my room.

Regarding the fan fictions I'm working on and planning for the future, they're based on my imagination, some influenced by my experiences and emotions during writing, and inspired by songs I frequently listen to. I have numerous ideas in mind, and I hope to articulate them soon.

So, thank you for reading my fanfiction(s)!

[project-sekai-facts]

tsukasa5 not being a lim makes me so mad and i dont even like him that much. didnt wxs had ONE limited event and it was 3 YEARS AGO?? and vbs got lims 2 months ago?? 😭

Yeah WxS’ only hako lim was the first lim event in the game almost 3.5 years ago. this is vbs’ third overall and second in two months 😭😭 at least when mmj had two hako lims in a year they were 7 months apart

[made-this-cause-why-not]

I'm bored and I am not sure if anyone has done this yet but Gen V character and their majors if God U was a normal college (coming from a comms and english double major)

Starting off strong- Jordan would be Bio Chem. Jordan Li is a studious little nerd and I will not elaborate past that

Marie- Physical Therapy. Also- feel like I don't need to explain. Even in as a non supe she just loves helping people and would love being part of the process in healing others.

Emma- nursing. She is part of the 25 percent of nursing majors that are the sweetest people you will ever meet. She has a pink stanely, takes notes on her ipad and maintains a solid 3.5 even fs she is a big procrastinator. She is the kind of person where you don't have a pencil she will give you one of hers and let you keep it.

Andre- either finance or business. He only shows up to classes half the time and doesn't have a single class before 12pm. Manages to skate by through public quizlets, listening to audio versions of text books at 2 times speed, and going to office hours every week during the last month of the semester to make it seem like he is dedicated

Luke- psychology and comms double major. Originally he came in as only a comms major, and then his second semester he took a psych class and made that his minor, then the following semester he decided to just double major. For comms his focus is journalism. Maybe he there on scholarship- track and field perhaps. During the off season he gives university tours and is known through out campus and beloved by all. Most def apart of greek life on campus.

Cate- Marketing. I don't know how to explain it- it's a gut feeling. She is also a stanely girl.

Sam- business.

[deconstructing-klance]

The Hypocrisy of the Klance & Plance Age Differences

I'm a Plance shipper. I think Lance and Pidge are perfect together. I'll get into that a different day, though.

The main gripe I hear from Klance shippers about how Plance is "creepy" and "doesn't work" is because there's a 3 year age difference between the two.

Alright then, let's look at ages.

The VLD timeline is convoluted at best. I literally spent about 3 hours one night trying to figure out the timeline and eventually came to one that I think works out pretty well. A HUGE shoutout goes to Greg Tyler who wrote several blog articles about this confusing conundrum.

The ages of the Paladins when they leave in the Blue Lion:

Keith - 18

Hunk - 17

***This is where I demonstrate someone can have their own head canon but still respect canon when it comes to official VLD issues. I personally believe his age is really 18. Hunk is listed as being 17 with his birthday is in January. Due to Hunk's looks, size, and maturity, I don't think the year they left in the Blue Lion he turned from 16 to 17. I think he turned from 17 to 18. So in the VLD fan stuff I create, Hunk is older than Lance, not younger. But we'll go with what the creators said and also because Hunk's age is 17 in the guidebook.***

Lance - 17

Pidge - 15

***Pidge's age has been disputed over the years, with some incorrectly saying she's 14. The guidebook states she is 15. I think some of the misinformation is spread so people can look down on the Plance shipping.***

To keep the mathing simple, let's assume Keith was born in the year 2300. Birthdays will be thus:

Again, the year is arbitrary to make mathing easier. I still can't figure out what year VLD takes place.

In S1 E1, there's a calendar on the wall in Keith's shack that has the number 2 on it. Assuming Keith kept up with his calendar, we know the Paladins left in the Blue Lion on the 2nd.

Picture courtesy of Violet the Howler

I go with Greg's timeline, because he's pretty much a Voltron scholar of all the different Voltron branches. Greg worked out that the Paladins left in May, which looks accurate from the scenery.

Note: I live in the desert, and yes, there is a difference between Spring and Fall. The sun light in S1 E1 looks much more like Spring light than Fall light.

So, the Paladins and Shiro left Earth in the Blue Lion on May 2nd, 2319.

Seasons 1-6 take place roughly throughout the rest of 2319 and I believe into 2320.

This is where things get complicated.

By December of 2319, these are the Paladins' ages:

Going along with the timeline, Keith does his two year age jump in the Quantum Abyss sometime in the first half of 2320.

So, the first half of 2320, the ages are:

And at the end of 2320, the ages are:

Take a good, long look at those ages for the second half of 2320.

Most people will be hung up on the fact that Lance is 19 and Pidge is 16. It's a 3 year age difference.

But what is Keith's age minus Lance's age? 22-19?

3 years.

Let's repeat that.

22-19 = 3.

Keith is 3 years older than Lance due to his two year jump in the Quantum Abyss.

Now before y'all come at me, finish reading the entire post.

Pidge and Lance are only 2 years apart for roughly 3.5 months, from April - July.

Lance and Keith are only 2 years apart for roughly 3 months, from July - October.

Thus, because of Keith's time jump, Lance and Keith are as far apart in age as Lance and Pidge.

Actually ... Pidge and Lance are technically closer in age by roughly two weeks.

"But 22 and 19 are better than 19 and 16 because 22 and 19 are adults!" I can just hear some of y'all screaming this at the computer.

Here's a fun little fact:

Just because someone is 18 and a legal adult does not necessarily mean it is okay for them to date another legal adult.

Someone at 19 can still be in a very predatory relationship with someone who is 22.

Klancers who are saying that their ship is more "moral" are just wrong.

It's not more moral. Either Klancers don't know how to math or they're willing to look the other way when it comes to what they want.

And before my words are twisted and taken out of context, I'm not saying Keith and Lance would have a predatory relationship. But the logic that their three year age gap is better than Lance and Pidge's because it's "more moral" doesn't hold any ground and is flawed.

Do Klancers honestly think a story with a 23 year old Pidge and 26 year old Lance is worse than a 23 year old Lance and 26 year old Keith?

Make it make sense.

If Pidge having a crush on Lance when she's 15 and he's 17 and then turns 18 is bad, then no one should have celebrity crushes - or just crushes in general. Ever. Until they're at least 21.

Do you really think a 19 year old Lance would date a 16 year old? I don't think so. Where are your morals if you think Lance would do that? And, quite frankly, neither of them are ready to date at the end of the series (before we get the 5 year in the future photo). Lance is still mourning the loss of Allura and Pidge is focused on improving the Garrison.

Not to mention all of the trauma and therapy everyone needs to go through. They need time to process and work on themselves. But I can see a Pidge and Lance in their 20s connecting with each other. They're a perfect balance of each other.

But, again, that's another post for another day. Don't worry - it's coming.

Right now, though, I'm gonna go water some Plance - I mean, plants.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

please support this blog

🦇 It Happened One Summer Book Review 🦇

❓ #QOTD What's your go-to summer read?❓ 🦇 Hollywood's It-Girl Piper Bellinger is the paparazzi's beloved wild child. There's always the promise she'll go a bit too far for the Gram, including hosting a rooftop party that lands her in jail after a bad breakup. Hoping she'll learn some sense of responsibility, her wealthy step-father ships her off to her late father's dive bar in the small town of Westport. She's not there for five minutes before she meets grumpy sea captain Brendan, and the two instantly clash. Will Piper reconnect with her past (charting a course for a new future in the process) or can she get back to LA before the end of her three-month sentence?

💜 Despite how much my beloved Booksta girlies adore her writing, I honestly didn't know what to expect from Tessa Bailey (and I'm glad, because I love shaping my own opinions). From chapter one, there's this instantly familiar yet distinct voice that SCREAMS chick-flick rom-com (with Kesha playing at full volume in the background). Piper is Alexis from Schitt's Creek meets Elle Woods ala Legally Blonde. She's vibrant and bubbly and yes, a little ditzy, but after a few chapters, you start to love her for the heart behind it. Brendan is all salt water and deep grumbles, strong yet stuck in his ways. My latest concern with rom-coms lately has been a lack of chemistry. Too many books rush to the smut, forcing two characters to fit when they just don't. Chemistry sparks off the page pretty quickly between these two, though--not in lingering glances, but in actions. Brendan has memory foam installed over a bunkbed so Piper can stop bruising herself. He changes her locks because everyone in Westport has a key to her building. It's not insta-love (but once things progress, these two burn HOT), and I'm grateful for that.

💜 It's the underlying messages that bumped this up to a rare 3.5 stars. People have been putting Piper into a box for too long, telling her she's just like every other girl in LA, that she won't amount to more. Brendan shows her she has so much more to give than she realizes. We start adoring Piper through Brendan, and that's a powerful thing. Meanwhile, Piper recognizes her worth and accomplishes far more than she thought herself capable. There's an underlying theme of guilt and grief from both sides, too; Piper for her late father, and Brendan for his late wife. They heal together and end up stronger for it.

💙 It's the third act that made my star rating falter. Piper clinging to pieces of her past, that lingering what-if of falling back into her comfort zone and old ways--Brendan shouldn't have faulted her for that, turning it into a blowout fight when Piper admitted EARLIER that she didn't know what to do. After that, it's a number of conveniently placed obstacles that keep them apart. Piper's sudden decision to go back to LA felt out of place given her character development, too. Though it wasn't a full third-act breakup, it was enough to feel exhausting.

🦇 Recommended for fans of Emily Henry, Ali Hazelwood, and Hannah Grace.

✨ The Vibes ✨ ⚓ Small Town Romance ⚓ Contemporary Romance ⚓ Schitt's Creek Inspired ⚓ Grumpy/Sunshine ⚓ Opposites Attract ⚓ First in a Duology ⚓ He Falls First

💬 Quotes ❝ I can be in a room full of people that I know & still not feel like I belong. ❞ ❝ This girl. He'd be keeping her. There was no way around it. ❞ ❝ Apparently he enjoyed that now. Being confused & charmed & pulled apart over this woman. ❞ ❝ "I like the things that make you Piper. Don't go changing them now. ❞

[zenmai--jikake--no--komoriuta]

HER!!!!!!!!!! 3.5 YEARS LATER AND MY PROJECT VEILSPUNS ARE FINALLY COMPLETE OHH MY GOD

121 hatchlings and 4 males later, we FINALLY have a natural murk/bronze/peach female to cap off the batch of veilspuns I scried back on their release day........................... I've been playing FR since Nov 2018 so this godforsaken project has taken up well over half of my time here to eventuate! what the fuck!

unfortunately one of the only candidates I had to work with was one of my pre-existing, well-loved coatls who I wasn't willing to breed change for a shorter cooldown, so I was only able to roll the dice on one nest each month (which is absolutely part of why this took so long when their colour ranges are only a few points apart! the other one is because all of the other candidates that showed up in my AH listings were blood relatives!! then once I started collecting them in my hibden out of frustration they stopped appearing lmao)