#I can post this afternoon delight photo set

[bearlytolerant]

I’m so very close.

[puckpocketed]

you prob have but have you seen fowler’s helmet design it is such a delight

hello hi helloo!!! I am not a goalie guy or mask guy usually but you got me on a little rabbit hole :> i love a quick a lengthy afternoon research project!!!

Jacob Fowler has a few notable masks so i suppose we should talk about all of them? I'm not sure which helmet you are referencing so! here goes!!

First, to get it out of the way, Fowler wore a white mask through his minor/junior hockey career. I do enjoy the blank design for narrative reasons (underestimated and ignored btw. passed over in juniors drafts btw. if u even CARE!!!!) but i think this is prob not the one you are asking about. I am currently NOT in the mood for a deeep web search to find nice close-up photos of him in the gear but Bauer's official shop has Fowler's gear set listed here. And here is their shop image of the mask + a photo from Fowler's EP page:

link 1, archive link // link 2, archive link

I was gonna say, I do think its funny that they've put up an image with the wrong bar style. Bauer's photo uses the "grid" style bars (left) and Fowler's cage in the image features "cats-eye" bars (right), but upon further inspection Fowler DID use the grid style mask at some point.

link, archive link

He swapped from the grid to the cats-eye and has not gone back, and I'm gonna assume the discrepancy on Bauer's site has to do with what masks are certified by the Canadian Standards Association (CSA Group) and The Hockey Equipment Certification Council (HECC)...? Short article on mask certifications can be found here // archive link. tl;dr cats-eye bars aren't certified! Here's a fun youtube video I came across a while back about the history of goalie masks! (It's fully cited and sourced... beautiful..... really great material, highly recommend the watch if you have 30 mins free !)

and alrighty I think maybe the mask you were talking about was this one:

post by vicedesign on instagram. link 1, archive link // link 2, archive link

for those following along at home, this is Fowler's Boston College Eagles mask! Here is the instagram video where he explains it. notable facts under the cut because this post is getting long as HELL.

his first mask as a kid was an iron man design mask, and when it came time to choose a design he went back to that!

the host notes that the design is very on-theme for Eagles hockey colours, and that it's a "full-circle" moment <3 I just think that's neat !

the license plate on the back is a reference to where he's from; it's important to him that he reps florida because there's "not too much hockey down there"

The numbers on the license plate are for his mother's birthday

"take me home, country roads" quote is because he spent his summers in West Virginia!

The license plate is SOOO good. I love the colours, the little cartoon oranges. and speaking as a once-iron man enjoyer... LOVE!!! i think also the symmetry of having your mask art be a literal helmet is so fun <3 I'd like to know what city skyline is painted on the side but I fear this would never get published if I attempted to go down that research hole....

And finally, Fowler's most recent mask, which debuted at habs development camp:

link 1, archive link // link 2, archive link

post by pbkreation on instagram. link, archive link // second photo is screenshot of the instagram vid.

If you are reading this and haven't already heard about it or summarily been struck by lightning at the familiarity of the mask... Fowler has chosen to emulate the mask design of legendary Canadiens goalie Patrick Roy.

Here is one incarnation of this mask that Roy wore as a Canadien, for reference:

link 1, archive link // link 2, archive link

(super funny that he chose Roy, who notoriously did NOT end things with the Habs on good terms...) People took note of the mask the MOMENT he came out in it and I have . ough. MANY thoughts on Fowler's choice to invite the conversations, to evoke the past, what with all the Carey-Price-Come-Again comparisons. probably more on this at some point when i feel less unwell about it and have done more reading.

it's a really fun spot the difference game to me!! Fowler has the text running along the side, his name in that distinct lettering. The Habs logo on the forehead is updated but still in the same spot. the logo on the chin does not feature Fowler's player number the same way that Roy's has his #33. the bars on Fowler's mask are white rather than blue. The back of Fowler's mask of course features the Florida license plate!! <3 i really hope he keeps that motif for every mask he has going into the future. All in all, it's a tribute to the past, but it has a unique Jacob Fowler twist !

In this video he explains the mask. Notes:

pbkreations did Fowler's special mask for his Boston College vs Boston University match up

Fowler wanted to do something that represented his family's connection to the Habs! <3

Palm trees on the back!! FLORIDA BOY!!!!

it's a pretty close replica even down to the holographic 'les canadiens' text..!

he clarifies that the mask design is likely just for dev camp. when the host asks him if he'll wear it in a habs uniform, he diplomatically answers the question but avoids confirming that he'll go through with it (veeeerry communications major of him. lol)

Personally i am sooo charmed and endeared by his little florida license plate and his plucky invite to the hockey gods with the invocation of a legendary habs goalie. <3 jacob fowler YOU are goin in my pocket !!!

Anyway, anon thank you for derailing my entire afternoon (with affection) today was supposed to be a gifing day but I got very blissfully side-tracked by Fowler's goalie helmet lore!! Thanks for allowing me to test run my new sourcing/linking policies on a long post :3 hope this was to your liking!!

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

ARCTIC MONKEYS 25/06/23

okay now that i've had some time to (slightly) emotionally and physically recover from yesterday, i need to flail about the highlights:

1) meeting one of my absolute favourite humans who i would never have got to know if it hadn't been for this little corner of tumblr - and then getting to share the excitement/nerves/elation/exhaustion rollercoaster of seeing am with them was just - there aren't even words for it. so special 💖

2) learning how to navigate rain ponchos

3) impulse buying too much merch (but also not regretting it. the glasgow tour poster is going to be the first thing going on my wall in my new flat)

4) the mirrorball starting to twirl just before they all came onstage and sending the colours of the afternoon sun everywhere

5) the sheer rush of the moment they all walked onstage together (also that was pretty much the only time i got to glimpse nick and matt at all 💔 from where i was standing i could mostly only see alex and jamie)

6) seeing alex a few metres away in real life after months of looking at his beautiful, dorky little expressions in photos/videos was surreal in the best possible way- there's just something so different about the way you get a sense of someone's energy when you're in the same space with them?? and as someone who's endlessly interested in people, i'm fascinated by how alex simultaneously gives off really reserved, self-contained vibes at the same time as being such a dynamic and captivating performer - like he’s so good at tapping into emotions without letting them be a door into how he’s actually feeling (if that makes any sense, my post-gig brain is not very articulate) i guess that all very much makes sense with all the stuff he's said about personas/performing, but it was still so interesting to get to really feel that sense of his presence in live time. he's definitely very much in control but in a very understated kind of way

7) a bunch of birds circling overhead on one side of the crowd, alex seeing them and dramatically declaring 'release the rest of the birds' 

8) me and the lovely human i went with turning to each other with expressions of sheer joy when the opening bars of crying lightning were played (and don't sit down. and four stars. and arabella. and - you get the picture. getting to share the sheer delight of your favourite songs being played is just the loveliest feeling 💗)

9) alex doing a quirky little 'ha ha' laugh in the middle of body paint 

10) mirrorball coinciding with the most beautiful pink dusk and half moon just above the stage, and getting to witness alex’s piano playing at the start of it

11) body paint. just. body paint. i think my soul left my body.

12) how much energy and enthusiasm alex seemed to have throughout the set - especially after the last week or so it was just the loveliest thing to see him messing about and having fun. and his voice sounded SO good. how anyone manages to sing like that (let alone sound like that less than a week after cancelling shows due to laryngitis) is an absolute mystery to me

13) alex's theatrical hand gestures for crying lightning (the one for gobstopper was a particular favourite)

14) hearing 505 when dusk has just fallen and you can see the smudged moon behind the deep indigo clouds is the only way anyone should ever hear 505 

15) alex and matt having a giggle about something mid set

16) obviously i was aware of how stupidly talented they all are - but there's something about seeing it unfold in front of you in real time that makes it really hit you. the sound wasn't great where i was for some of the time so i don't feel like i got the best audio sense of everything, but i was just so struck in particular by matt on the drums and also alex with his guitar playing. i feel like when i'm just listening to their records i'm so busy listening to alex's voice that i forget how incredible a guitar player he is and - wow. just. yeah. it honestly took my breath away.

17) getting the distinct impression that it provides alex with a sense of amusement to deliberately do that thing where he sings the lyrics at slightly different speeds to trip the crowd up

18) even though i ended up being in significant pain for the second half of the set and had to go find somewhere a little further back where i could lean against the railings (chronic pain conditions and standing for 6+ hours apparently isn't the best mix), nothing could dull how magical it was hearing all the tracks from the car that they played closer to the end. standing there in the dusk and feeling so much about everything is something i'll never forget. it truly brought home to me so poignantly everything about why am's music means so much to me and how much love i have for them 💜

19) being in the exact line of direction alex blew kisses to at the end

20) the hazy post-gig walking in the dark under lit up green trees with the lovely human i went with and our conversations about am and creativity and the courage of sharing music 💖

[fayewongfuzao]

“Long Time No See”: Tony Leung, Faye Wong’s IG Reunion Has Fans Reminiscing About Chungking Express

We're all California Dreamin' now.

by Jonathan Fam

We so were not expecting this. Carina Lau set IG ablaze this afternoon (Oct 25) when she posted a photo of her husband Tony Leung with — wait for this — Faye Wong.

Her caption? A succinct and apt “Long time no see”.

If there’s anyone more low-key than Tony, it’s the enigmatic Faye.

The last time the 54-year-old pop diva was photographed in public was in April, when she was seen, um, roughing it out with other travellers on a crowded airport shuttle in China. Hardly glamorous stuff.

Faye is one of Carina’s closest pals and longtime mahjong kaki. Stories of their mahjong sessions are part of pop culture folklore, with Carina, 57, once saying in an interview that she can easily tell when Faye has a good or bad hand.

Tony, 61, and Faye have starred in three movies together: Chungking Express (1994), Chinese Odyssey 2002, and 2046 (2004).

Their pairing in Chungking Express — he as a lovesick beat cop, and she, a quirky snack bar worker — one of the most iconic in Asian cinema.

Fans, of course, took to comments section to rave about the meetup and share screengrabs of the stars in Chungking Express.

“I wanna cry. Eating chef’s salad and fish and chips to celebrate,” read one comment, an obvious reference to the items Tony’s character Cop 663 orders from Faye’s snack bar.

There were also references to 'California Dreamin'', the Mama and the Papas song that Faye's character listened to repeatedly in the movie.

Most netizens were excited to see Faye on Instagram, with a number of comments praising her for looking as gorgeous as ever.

We don’t know about you, but we’re definitely rewatching Chungking Express after this.

(SOURCE)

----------------------- Legendary actor Tony Leung and singer Faye Wong reunite, capturing the hearts of fans with iconic photo

By Dimsumdaily Hong Kong

25th October 2023 – (Hong Kong)

In a long-awaited reunion, renowned actor Tony Leung and legendary singer Faye Wong recently came together, sparking excitement among their fans.

The elusive Faye Wong, met with Leung, her frequent collaborator, in a gathering that delighted onlookers. In a heartwarming photo, Wong can be seen holding onto Leung’s arm as they lean against each other, both wearing radiant smiles. Despite the passing years, their timeless beauty remains unchanged.

The release of this iconic photo instantly stirred up a frenzy among netizens, evoking nostalgic memories of their previous collaborations in films such as “Chungking Express” and “Chinese Odyssey.”

Wong appeared in a vibrant red top, paired with a denim jacket, exuding a sweet and enchanting aura. Her light makeup accentuated her rosy complexion, while her fresh and breezy short hair added to her overall elegance, earning her widespread praise as a true ageless goddess.

(SOURCE)

----------------------- 'I never thought the day would come': Netizens reminisce over Tony Leung and Faye Wong's reunion

By Syarifah Nadhirah Nearly two decades after their last movie together, Hong Kong veteran actor Tony Leung and Chinese diva Faye Wong have reunited.

Tony's wife, actress Carina Lau, uploaded a photo of the duo today (Oct 25) in a joint Instagram post with Tony.

The iconic reunion comes 19 years after 2046, the 2004 film Tony and Faye starred in together.

"Long time no see," wrote Carina with a heart emoji.

The pair could be seen standing close together, with Faye, 54, leaning her head towards Tony, 61.

Tony, as usual, had a slightly awkward smile.

Besides 2046, Tony and Faye also co-starred in the 1994 hit film Chungking Express and 2002 movie Chinese Odyssey 2002.

Netizens in the comment section reminisced about the past, with many bringing up Chungking Express where the pair played onscreen lovers.

"Chungking Express couple pairing… I looped the movie so many times because of you two" said one netizen.

"I never thought the day would come when I could see the two of you together!" commented another.

Another pleaded: "Please post more videos and photos. It's been a long time since I saw Faye."

Others remarked how Faye looked like she hasn't aged and that the two are "still elegant and charming."

(SOURCE)

[nancypullen]

Maple Tea and Murder

I had an interesting afternoon. I spent an hour in the conference room at Adkins Arboretum with women who love murder. Okay, maybe they don't love it, they just love reading about it. For $5 I attended Crime and a Cuppa.

Join mystery maven Kathleen Wilson for an hour of intrigue, humor, and thrills as she discusses her favorite crime novels set in the great outdoors. Brace yourself with a cuppa in the face of murders, kidnappings, some twists, and many laughs. You'll leave with a solid list of titles to see you through the winter months.  When I arrived I was welcomed by Ms. Wilson and invited to partake of the scones, cookies, and many flavored teas available. I chose Maple Cinnamon tea and a gingersnap. Perfect for a fall day.

The speaker was absolutely delightful, we covered four pages of recommended murder mystery books in just an hour. Lots of laughs, plenty of good information, and a room full of women who decided to spend their Tuesday afternoon compiling a reading list for the coming winter. Good stuff.

But, and you knew there'd be a but, I don't really read fictional murders. I prefer coverage of real crimes, the unraveling of a case via smart detective work, pivotal moments, etc. I like to be able to do a little internet research after finishing the book, and discover everything from old interviews and photos to the murderer's death row meal request. I felt like a poser as the attendees bantered about their favorite authors and series. I'd never read a single book they mentioned. I may or may not read anything from the list I received today, but it was still just really fun to be in a room full of crime readers. I just felt a smidge more bloodthirsty than them. They talked a lot about "cozy mysteries" - where the quaint town and quirky characters play a big part in the plot. That all sounds delightful to me, but is that as interesting as the woman who killed her husband by putting Visine in his tea? Or the guy who started the whole slow death by antifreeze trend? How about the gal out in Washington who replaced her husband's Excedrin tablets with cyanide (she planted additional bottles on store shelves to cover her tracks, killing two other people). When it comes to crime, fiction doesn't hold a candle to reality. People are crazy. It was still a delightful talk, a really nice crowd, and I probably will try something from the list. It seemed like most of the series were built around game wardens with broken hearts, or sassy female crime busters with an angsty back story who has to team up with said hunky game warden/park ranger. I normally need more depth in my books, but I'm no snob. I love a good story and there's always a time and place for a light read. I'll probably pick up a couple at the library and give them a whirl. On other news I'm doing a little giveaway over on my PrissyHippie Facebook page. I'll be sending some lovely person a bunch of earrings just for being nice enough to follow my page and comment.

Honestly, I steer clear of Facebook anymore, at least my personal page. I'm so over it. But I enjoy interacting with the handful of folks who have found my Prissy Hippie page. They're so congenial. Same with The Happy Bookers, a wonderful collection of women who share good reads and funny book memes in a friendly space on Facebook. The rest of it can rot. Aren't we all a little burned out on social media culture? Kind of weird that I'm saying that as I post to Tumblr. I suppose it's the mean-spirited, self-important, aggressively opinionated crowd that I avoid, Not the nice folks here. I want to live in a bubble of kindness. I have grown weary of this mean ol' world. Oh well, it's time for this bookworm to wander upstairs and run a bubble bath. Maybe I'll start one of those cozy mysteries. Bet I can download one from the library tonight. Sending out loads of love tonight, I hope you feel it and it warms you. Let's all be good to each other. It's really all that matters.

I've written on this blog since 2007. It used to be more interesting, certainly a lot funnier, but life changes and so do we. Some of you have been reading my silly snippets since the beginning, some of you I've never met but consider you a friend, many of you are family and friends in "the real world". Thank you all for walking with me. What lovely company. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[jobrookekarev]

All Dressed Up.

Chapter: One of two

Words: 2,466

Summary: The karev’s pick out their costumes and go trick-or-treating at the hospital. 

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Cormac Hayes, Levi Schmitt, Luna Wilson, Helena Karev, Edith Karev.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Family, Love, One Shot, Holidays, Domestic, Children, Cute, Halloween, Costumes, Trick-or-treating, Family fun.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Happy Halloween! I'll post part two tomorrow.

…………………………………………………………………

“Guess what your daughter wants to be for Halloween?” Jo asked Alex as he came back into the kitchen.

“Well guessing by the fact that you said she was my daughter, it's probably something… different, ”Alex said as he came back into the kitchen.

He had come back from changing Edith's diaper and held her in one arm as he sat down next to the two girls at the kitchen counter. Jo was across from them cutting bananas as they made lunch on that rainy October afternoon. 

“Well what do you want to be for Halloween, Helena?” Alex asked with this smile.

“A peanut,” Helena said as she lit up and smiled her teeth full of peanut butter from her sandwich.

“That might be cute!” Alex said this smile then. “We could do peanut butter and jelly as a family costume.”

“I don't know about that,” Jo said with a frown. 

Alex looked down at Edith as he rubbed her chest and she squirmed, kicking her legs. “Maybe this pretty lady can be a little strawberry or something?” 

“But I want to do a family costume this year. It'd be nice to do something fun rather than just peanut butter and jelly.” Jo lamented with a frown before she signed to Luna. “What about you, Luna? What do you want to be for Halloween?” 

Luna thought about it for a second as she chewed on her sandwich holding it in both of her hands, something only she did. “A purple princess and sparkles.” 

“We could work with that,” Jo said with this smile. “You could be our handsome king and I could be queen, with the girls being our princesses.”

“No I a peanut,” Helena stressed to Jo clearly determined in her choice of Halloween costumes.

“Okay Helena, you can be a peanut and Luna can be a princess. We don't have to have a family costume,” Alex said with a shrug looking over at Jo only to see her pouting.

“I guess,” Jo said with a shrug, clearly disappointed.

“Well then what should Edith be?” Alex playfully asked her as he tickled her tummy and she squealed with delight.

“She is going to be a pumpkin,” Jo said with a smile.

“You love that costume way too much,” Alex said, shaking his head as he sat down at the countertop.

They were referencing the little pumpkin costume she had dressed all of the girls in at one point. The little pumpkin costume was complete with a little pumpkin knitted hat that Helen had made several years ago. Luna had worn it for her first Halloween and then Jo had put Helena the following October. Although at one year old she barely fit into it and had to switch to the rocket ship costume. Jo had still paraded her around the hospital in it, as she showed off her little pumpkin baby. 

“No, it's just the best baby costume and if you think I'm not going to put this baby in a pumpkin this year then you are mistaken,” Jo said, side eyeing him to prove her point as she showed off photos of both Helena and Luna in a carved pumpkin.

“Jo she can't even sit up on her own,” Alex said, setting her on the table as she promptly fell back into his chest and sat against him.

“I’ll prop her up or something,” Jo said with a smile as she cooed over at her girl.

“If you insist,” Alex said as he rolled his eyes. “I suppose we can decide on costumes later, but maybe we could be a family of pirates?”

“No Daddy no pirates,” Luna said, snapping at him with the sign for no as she shook her head. 

Jo laughed as she took Edith back and went to sit down next to the girls. “What about a unicorn?”

“Yes,” Luna said with a nod as she also signed ‘yes’. 

“What about a doctor, Helena?” Alex offered to Helena, hoping to get them to be something a little more fun. 

“I a peanut,” Helena said, determinant with her choice as she ate her sandwich. 

“Okay we'll keep thinking about what everyone else can be,” Alex said, taking a handful of chips and sitting with them. 

…………………………………………………………………

They finally decided just to go to the costume store and pick out what they all wanted to wear. Although Jo was still determined to do a family costume the girls could not decide on anything even remotely close to matching. Thus Jo had given up and it just decided her girls to let the girls pick whatever they wanted.

“Oh it's scary,” Alex said pointing at a skeleton that popped up from a bowl and sang a little song while the girls laughed. They kept away from the more creepy decorations but saw a few of the less scary ones as they looked at lawn decorations. 

“Come on, let's go find the toddler costumes,”Jo said, turning down the right aisle finally as they were greeted with rows and rows of costumes on display, from sparkly purple dresses to basketball uniforms.

“Pretty,” Helena giggled as she grabbed onto one of the sparkly purple princess dresses and hugged it.

”Alright so one down one to go five to go,” Alex said as he placed it in the carts next to Edith who was in the car seat. She grasped a hold of the edge with her little hands and tried to bring it up to her mouth.

“No, no baby yucky,” Jo untangled it from her fingers where she was grabbing onto it. “Besides it's for sissy.”

Jo offered her the toy keys that were hanging from the handle and gave them a shake as Edith got distracted and let Jo move the dress away from her. 

“What about this one?” Alex said, pointing to a pink dinosaur costume.

“Dinosaur roar,” Luna said as she reached out for the costume and took it from Alex.

However Helena wanted it too and grabbed the costume as she tried to take it from Luna.

“No,’ Luna signed as she started crying and Alex quickly stepped in and separated them, but Helena started crying and reaching for the costume as Alex reached to hold her back. 

“Helena, that's Luna’s costume,” Jo gently reminded her although Helena continued to cry.

“Dino,” Helena said, reaching for the costume as Luna ran from her and hid by Jo’s legs.

“Do you want to be a Dinosaur too?” Alex asked as Helena nodded. “Okay we'll get you one of your own,” 

Alex searched through the rack for one in Helena's size. Although Luna was six months older and they were both the same height, Helena still had a lot of her chubby baby fat, whereas Luna had never really had any fat to begin with. Jo often worried about her tiny toddler and it didn't help that Luna was a picky eater, but both Hayes and Alex reassured her that she was healthy. However, Jo didn't complain when she wanted an extra cookie or an extra helping at dinner and she didn't hold Helena back from having the same extra treats and nutrition. Helena ate like her father and pretty much liked everything Jo served her and would always ask for seconds then thirds, but they always allowed it especially especially considering that she often grew when she was extra hungry. 

”There we go two dinosaurs,” Alex said, handing the costume to Helena as she smiled. 

“Okay, baby, but now you need to pick. The princess dress…” Jo said, holding up the purple costume to Helena before pointing to the one in her hands. “Or the dinosaur”

Helena just smiled, grabbing the princess costume and holding both of them close to her. ���Mine.”

Jo sighed as she looked over at Alex who just shrugged. “Well we could get her one for dress up and one for Halloween and she can decide what she wants on the night of Halloween.”

“Alex it's bad enough that every time you guys go to Target you come home with a princess dress or something, can’t we just leave with one costume?”

As if to make things even more difficult, Luna wandered over and picked out one of the rainbow unicorn costumes. “I like ‘dis” 

“Uh-oh,” Jo said under her breath as she watched Luna pull at it trying to get it off the rack before Alex went over and helped her pick out the right size.

By the time they had gone to the end of the aisle Helena had five costumes to choose from and Luna had three. 

“All right girls we can only take one home,” Jo said, holding up her finger as she looked at the costumes in the cart. 

“I don't see the harm in getting at least two,” Alex said quietly, disagreeing with her again as Jo glared at him. 

“I think it’s a little excessive, especially considering all the ones they have at home,” Jo said as she gestured to the full cart 

Even Edith had lost a battle and had been taken out of the carseat and was now being carried by Alex rather than being buried under all the costumes. They hadn't even picked one out for her yet as they had waited for the girls to decide what they wanted to be.

“Alright,” Alex conceited with a sigh. “Let's narrow this down.”

“Why don't you three narrow down your choices to two and Edith and I will go look for a costume for her,” Jo said, trying to take Edith's car seat from him.

“Jo, no it's way too heavy,” Alex protested as he stopped her from taking it and held firm to the car seat.

Jo did have to admit that the car seat was pretty heavy. Edith was definitely not a tiny baby. At almost 2 months old She was just shy of 13 lb. She was chubby like Helena with the most adorable fat rolls that made Jo just want to eat her up. Alex was extremely cautious with her. Most of the time it was fine and something Jo definitely took advantage of, but sometimes he was a little too cautious. 

“Fine I'll just take her out of the car seat then,” Jo said as she unstrapped her and Edith got excited as Jo picked her up he kissed her head before settling her in her arms and walked away. “Your daddy is too overprotective.”

Jo smiled as she touched Edith's nose with a little laugh and walked down the other aisle for the baby costumes. She quickly realized where her girls got their indecision from as she quickly accumulated a couple of costumes for Edith. Although she was kind of set on reusing the little pumpkin costume again. She did admit that there were too many cute little baby costumes. 

“Okay,” Jo said looking at her choices she held up the choices for Edith. “Which ones do you want?” 

She offered the costumes and a tiny little baby dinosaur costume and a princess dress. Edith kicked with excitement and looked towards the little dinosaur costume. Jo let her have it and she immediately pulled the egg hat into her mouth and chewed on it.

“Well I guess we have to get it now,” Jo said with a little laugh as she let her daughter have the costume and put the other one back on the shelf. 

“Mama,” Helena shouted, as Jo looked back to see Alex and the girls coming towards her. Luna was holding her cat and unicorn costume and Helena was wearing her dinosaur costume while Alex had one of the princess dresses in the cart.

“Hello my little dinosaur, I see that you picked out your costume?” Jo said, reaching down to hug her. 

“Raor,” Helena said as Jo leaned down and tickled her, causing her to laugh.

“Mama I'm a kitty,” Luna said proudly holding up her black cat costume as she tried to sign to her with her hands full.

“I see,” Jo said with a little laugh as she kissed her cheek, absolutely melting at how adorable it was. 

“You got a dinosaur costume too?” Alex asked Edith as he looked at the dinosaur costume Edith had. “It looks like we're going to have a Jurassic Park on our hands?”

Jo smiled over at him. “Well I suppose I wouldn't mind going as Dr. Ellie and you would make a very good Dr. Malcolm.”

Alex smiled as they wandered over to the adult section. They quickly found a  Dr. Ellie costume in her size but they only had one of Dr. Grant that he wasn't too fond of. 

“It's not that bad, let's just get it and go, it's been almost an hour, and you know the girls are going to get cranky,” Jo said as she leaned against the car looking down at Edith.

She was back in her car seat and starting to fuss as Jo stuck the pacifier in her mouth. This stalled her for a little while and Jo pushed the cart back and forth, knowing she was due for a nap. 

They took all their purchases to the front and paid an amount that made Alex’s eyes widen before they went home. Upon arriving home, Alex immediately put the tombstone in the front yard along with a couple of blow ups that they definitely didn't need, but looked good.

“This is really cool, maybe I'll have to put up lights and stuff,” Alex said as he stepped back and looked at the bow up ghost.

“Yeah, but but if you kill yourself putting up lights, I'm going to bring you back and then kill you again,” Jo said smiled at him as she held a sleeping Edith and threw the ball for Reeses. The girls were in the driveway riding their toddler tricycles as Jo stood at the end of the driveway to keep them from going in the road.

“I know and last year putting up Christmas lights was bad enough, because you were pregnant and extra worried about me,” Alex said as he pretended not to see the way she raised an eyebrow at him as he looked back at the ghost.

“Ladder and lights accidents are the number two cause of an ER visit around the holidays,” Jo said as she waved to the girls. “Come on girls, let's go inside and try on those costumes.” 

“Alright,” Alex said reluctantly, following her inside.

[sweet-cassi-cd]

...Afternoon delight, cocktails and moonlit nights. That dreamy look in your eye, give me a tropical contact high...  KoKomo by the Beach Boys released in 1988. 

I remember this song from the 80′s hit movie Cocktail, I’ve not seen the film for ages but I always enjoy it when it’s on TV.   :-)

Summer is upon us again so I thought that I would post a suitable set...”swim-suitable” haha! There’s not a great deal I can say about the outfit other than this lovely little bikini is by Roxy. I’m heading to Greece later in the month and this will definitely have a place in my case, I’ll try and get some time to take a few photos whilst I’m away but hopefully y’all will like these ones for now.

Cassi   Xx.

[peterparkersnose]

Corrupt pt. 2

word count: 3.9k

warnings: age gap, crying, comforting, angst, lying, manipulation, gaslighting, anxiety attack, swearing, mentions of alcoholism, sexual references, stalking, guilt, violence, attacking, mentions of grime, riddler shenanigans, exposure, nudity, general non logical thinking (riddler has to pin down y/n, can be offensive to some. just a warning i forgot).

a/n woah longest fic i’ve ever written. i hope you guys like it, it might have gotten a little choppy at the end but i love it so so much (i know the gif doesnt have anything to do with the story but my god he looks so fine there)

summary part 2 to corrupt. Y/N discovers that Edward is the Riddler and her father’s corruption. 

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read time: 14 mins 25 seconds

Part 1

Three days went by. No word from Y/N. Edward scoured your Instagram for anything. Story posts with you drunkenly singing along to music with your friends. Photos from the party, you and Hazel. You and other socialite friends. You and Bruce. 

He understood now why you had gotten Bruce Wayne out of his reclusive shell. Your personality was golden. You were so kind, so amazing. How could Bruce resist?

It still angered him. Even though he felt perverted when he admitted it, he wanted to be with you. The softness of your hand the other night drove him crazy. 

He kept his phone on a constant charge, with the ringer set up to the highest setting. 

It was a Tuesday afternoon when he heard his phone go off. Edward was busy making a plan for his next contraption. He leaped out of his chair, knocking his glasses off his nose. He quickly scrambled over to the phone, but was disappointed to find out it wasn’t you. 

He only had his phone set for two notifications though. You and…

Oh, sweet sweet revenge. The files have dropped.

He sprinted to his computer, struggling to put his password in. Once he entered for forum, he squealed in delight from all of the information. Senators, Representatives, and oh, the Mayor? He was in bliss. All the worst of the worst and their faults. 

He searched through them, searching for the last name L/N. And that is what he found. 

Kellan L/N’s Folder.

Pay offs, deals with mafia leaders, all the boring common things he didn’t find as interesting. Well, he did find them interesting. He just knew there was more. There had to be. 

He clicked on the file called ‘Kat Calls’. Ed laughed at the clever play of words. Recordings of phone calls with a mysterious women containing explicit material. Better, but Ed knew there had to be more. He scrolled more down in the file, finding the gold. 

The women going by ‘Kat’ released the affair documents. Car paperwork signed by L/N, given to Kat. Videos of them being intimate. Photos of them together at a club. Pregnancy photos- wait what. Pregnancy photos?

Edward’s eyes almost popped out of his head. From his Riddler standpoint, he would be overjoyed. But from his standpoint, he knew you would be devastated. 

Seeing your close relationship with your mother, he figured you would be broken finding out about this. 

Edward clicked more files, releasing the subpoena of the paternity test, the text messages between Kat and Kellan, and pregnancy month updates of her bump. Kellan L/N’s new child. 

He slammed his computer shut, yelling in frustration. He then opened it again, going on his livestream. He needed to get some of this off his chest in a safe way. 

It wasn’t until that night when you texted him. You seemed distressed.

Unknown Number: is this Edward?

He jumped up and grabbed his phone. 

Edward: Yes, who is this?

Playing dumb. Good call.

Y/N: Y/N, we met at the diner?

Edward: Oh, yes! How are you?

Y/N: Can I come over? To talk. I need some realness in my life right now

Edward was shocked at your boldness. He figured some things about her father were leaked to the news. He had ignored the news stations all day, he had been scrolling through the other politician’s faults and didn’t want to hear the sugarcoated bullshit that was leaked to the press just yet. 

Edward: That would be okay. Do you need an address?

This was the night it would all go down. 

When you arrived, you were in emotional distress. You tried to hide it, but he could notice it. 

Edward had made sure to close off his Riddler room and lock it. He also hid away any other evidence he had laying around. It was his routine if the cops ever came looking for him. Easy practice. 

You were a bit disgusted by his apartment building. It wasn’t a great one. The foundation was cracking. His neighbors were, questionable. Mostly dropheads and drop dealers. Only few such as Edward were just genuinely poor and couldn’t afford (or be bothered) to move anywhere else

The apartment building didn’t have an elevator. Ed lived on the fifth floor. A rat ran across your shoes on the way up. You wanted more than anything to get this man out of this building. But that would be overstepping, right?

“Are you alright?” Edward asked, taking your coat. You sighed, trying to keep your tears in. You gave a slight ‘mhm’ and sat on his couch. 

“Would you like something to drink?” he offered. You knew he was trying to be comforting and you felt bad refusing his kindness. 

You stared at your knees, trying to keep the tears in. You felt like you could burst at any sudden time. 

Edward crouched down in front of you. He placed a hand on yours, attempting to make some eye contact. He saw the tears forming in your eyes. 

“Hey hey hey,” he said, reaching into your falling embrace as you began to cry. He held you tight, cradling a hand behind your head. His thumb rubbed the side of your head, comfortably stroking your hair. Ed was trying. “I-I-I can’t b-believe him!” you sobbed, shaking back and forth. 

Edward moved back. He moved your fallen hair behind your ears, and wiped a bit of mascara off your cheek. “What happened?” he asked, pushing up his glasses on his nose. 

Play dumb. 

“M-my father. He did some bad things.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it-” “Didn’t you see it on the news?” 

Play dumb.

Edward gave you a confused look and slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what your talking about,” he whispered. 

“My father is Kellan L/N,” you spat out. “Oh,” he responded, trying to make his reaction genuine. 

“I-I was told by Br-, a friend, that he has done some bad things.” you sobbed. His heart sank when he knew Bruce told you. Of course he knew. He was the Prince of the city. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, placing both hands on your knees. “Is there anything I can do?” Edward asked, looking up with kind eyes. You managed a small smile. “Your perfect,” you managed to say, not crying. Edward smiled back a slight smile.

He found blankets in his storage chest and placed them around you. Your anxiety had made you start to shake. He noticed the signs after living through them and witnessing them at the orphanage so many years ago. He sat there quietly, holding you at your request on his couch. Your breathe had just stopped shuttering when your phone rang. 

“Shit,” you muttered, staring at the screen. A picture of your oldest brother lit up on the phone. Edward sat silent as you picked up. 

“Yeah I fucking heard!” you screamed. Edward was taken aback at the sudden anger. “Bruce! Yeah, Bruce told me! John, just- no! You shut up! Are you with mom? Why does it matter where I am? I’m safe, I’m with a friend. What about mom? Y-your kidding me she’s on a fucking bender? Again?”

The tears began flowing once again. Your hand began to shake, and you dropped your phone on the couch. You bent over again onto Edward’s lap, sobbing. Edward could hear your brother yelling from the small speaker. He reached over and hung up your phone. He shushed you, not really sure of what to do. A beautiful woman was crying a little too close to his crotch. 

He tried to distract you. Telling you stories of his past life, some more of the positive ones. The time when a dog wandered into the orphanage and everyone collectively kept it as a pet. He left out the part where it was eventually taken by animal control, killing the rest of the children’s spirit that wasn’t already gone. When he tried ice cream for the first time at eleven. Christmastime and the small gifts he used to get. His college scholarship, his way out of his old life. You listened, trying to imagine anything but the horrors of your current life. Once you were asleep, he left you. 

You were so peaceful when you slept. Your eyes would so often flutter, he figured you were dreaming. Watching your breathe slowly move up and down. Your hand hanging off his couch with your perfect manicure. The tiny snores every once and a while. 

Eventually he found himself asleep on his chair, curled up. Six am, his alarm went off.

Unfazed by the exasperating noise screeching from his bedroom, you still slept. It was a Wednesday morning. Edward had to go to work. He got up and actually showered. He never showered in the morning, but he didn’t get the chance too last night. He hoped the noise of the creaky shower would wake you up. Not a chance. He observed you were a heavy sleeper. Something he could never have mastered himself, growing up in a constant state of fear. 

Work clothes. Button down shirt, khaki pants, dress shoes. Edward combed his hair flat like usual. Cleaned off his glasses, grabbed his work case and his wallet. Still, you slept. He sighed, hating to be the one who had to do this. He walked over to you and slightly tapped you on your shoulder. Nothing. 

“Hellooo?” he whispered. You snorted a tiny bit, moving over on the couch. “Y/N?” he asked, shaking your shoulder. You shot up on the couch, nearly missing his head. “Scared the shit out of me Ed!” you scolded him. Taken back by your tone, he apologized profusely. “I-I didn’t mean to I just had to go to work and-” 

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing his flailing hands. “I’m really sorry sometimes I can be a lot in the morning,” you said sweetly, calming his hands into a stop in yours. “It’s okay,” you said. Edward swallowed hard. “I-I have to go to work.” he whimpered, checking his watch. His big doe eyes looked regretful. “Your welcome to stay- if you would like. Just please lock the door behind you if you leave. I can’t stress that enough, so many people here are just-” “I really should be going,” you cut off his rambling. “Are you sure? Do you have anywhere safe to go?” he asked, grabbing his keys off a hook by his door. “No,” you half laughed, staring up at him with your hand on your head. “Do you have any ibuprofen? My head is killing me,” you yawned. “Y-yeah, let me just-”

He opened his kitchen cabinet, swiping the rat poison to the back as he grabbed the container of relief pills from the back. Handing you a water bottle and the pills, he was itching to leave. He wanted to stay but he was already late. So late that when he left, he forgot to mention the most important thing. 

Don’t go in the back room. 

***

When you were fully awake, you noticed how dirty his apartment was. Dishes undone, dusty window ledges, dirt spots on the floor. You searched his kitchen for some type of cleaning supplies and was surprised to find some. They looked dated and like they could have been from ten years ago, but it worked. You cleaned and cleaned the whole day, trying to make the place the cleanest its been in years. Once you were finished with the kitchen and living room you were filthy. 

Your shirt was covered in cleaning supplies and grime. You contemplated going home and changing, but you knew one of your brothers or a representative for the family or even worse, reporters would be waiting for you. 

Ed had to have a shirt you could borrow, right? He is such a kind man, he wouldn’t be angry if you borrowed one for the time being while yours was washing, right?

The door handle to Edward’s bedroom was stiff, but the second you put force on the old door it creaked open. His bedroom was normal. The sheets were a bit disheveled and there was a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, but that was normal. The floor creaked as you walked over to his closet. With a little push, the old panels creaked open similar to his door.

And that was when you found it. 

The seemingly secret room crammed into his closet. The wall was backed out into another space, maybe an empty apartment next door. It stopped at a certain length, but the room was spacious. 

You first noticed the wall. Newspaper clippings, tabloid pictures of Batman, old election propaganda, pictures of politicians with their eyes crossed and cut out. Associates of your father’s, wait- your father?

You ran your hand over the newspaper clipping about his re-election three years ago. You could see yourself in the background of the picture. 

He knew.

You felt the adrenaline course through your body. You had to get the fuck out of there. You ran out of his closet, and attempted to get back to the kitchen when you tripped on his lamp cord. 

Thud, bump. Broken lightbulb on the floor. And to your luck, Edward was already home. 

“Y/N?” you heard him yell, rushing into his bedroom. Edward was panicking. You were in his bedroom. Didn’t he tell you- oh. 

How could I be so stupid? He cursed himself.

His bedroom door busted open, finding you on the floor next to a broken lamp. He looked up to see his closet door open. 

“Fuck,”

You jumped up from the floor and grabbed him, throwing him on the bed. For your size, he was surprised you were that strong. But you weren't as smart. 

His small figure made him able to slither out from below you and grab your waist, pinning you to the bed. You yelled for help. Edward could almost hear his heart breaking. He got on top of your writhing body, pinning your flailing hands above your head. 

“Stop. Stop fucking yelling!” he hissed at you, making you want to fight more. “Don’t make me do this, please Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you,”

He had no choice. You were almost out of his grips. If you were to escape, his scheme would be up. He grabbed his paperweight off of his nearby desk and decked you in the head with it. 

***

“Fuck! Please, please wake up!” Edward yelled, shaking your shoulders. He came into your view blurry, multiple visions of him swirling around the room. “Hey, hey!” he yelled, picking your slumped head up. 

“Wh-what did you do?” you slurred, trying to move your limbs. That is when you noticed you were tied to a chair. “Please don’t be mad,” he begged, sitting on his knees in front of you. You recognized the room you were in.

His Riddler lair. 

“Your him?” you asked, referring to the mask sitting on a nearby desk. He let out a sigh. “Your the one who has been killing all these people?” you yelled, regaining most of your consciousness now. 

“No, no Y/N. These are not people.” he laughed. “Corrupt, evil, malicious politicians. Poising Gotham with their greed.” 

You scoffed, turning your head away. That is when you noticed the dry blood on the side of your cheek. “You hit me?” you asked, looking up at him in disbelief. “I had to. I feel horrible. God, I could have killed myself over the sight,” he said manically, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Look at the wall,” he said. You closed your eyes shut. “Look! Now!” 

He grabbed your throbbing head and forced it forward.

The wall was covered with the propaganda like you saw before. You noticed a section with pictures of Bruce. You recognized some pictures that were stolen off your instagram. Your father had a small section, along with pictures of your brothers.

“You knew who I was,” you said, choking up. “I did. But I didn’t seek you out. Fate brought us together Y/N.” Edward said.

“Fate isn’t real,” you yelled, sobbing. “Then why are you sitting here?” Edward yelled back. 

Your sobs made him upset. This was not how this was supposed to go. 

Edward brought you water. “Please, drink.” he begged, bringing the bottle up to your lip. You took it cautiously, being prepared to black out again. But that wasn’t the case. “I really don’t want to hurt you. Just- listen.” he said, flinching at the sight of your wound. 

He brought his desk chair in front of you along with a file. 

“What do you know of a woman named Kat?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t know anyone named Kat.” you sighed. You writhed in your restraints. “Can you make these looser?” you begged, tears mixing with the blood and sweat on your cheeks. Edward nodded, loosening the handcuffs just enough. 

“Why do you ask?” you asked suspiciously. He opened the file and waved a picture of a pregnant woman in front of your face. “Never seen her in my life,” 

He knew you weren’t lying. No, you were too perfect. You could never lie like your dirty father. 

“What do you know about your father?” he asked calmly. “He’s dirty. A bad politician. Taking business deals from the mafia, dealing with some dirty people. He’s a problem in this city. I always thought he was good. He always seemed good. He always was…” you trailed off. “It’s why I came here,” you sighed. Edward wiped a fallen tear off your face. “Your not bad, your not evil.” he assured you. “I hate seeing you cuffed.” he sighed, his eyes looking tired. 

He re-focused on the document.

“Your gonna be a big sister,” he chuckled, showing you pictures of your father with this woman. Kissing at a party, walking together holding hands. 

This is the big thing your brother wouldn’t tell you. 

You completely broke down crying, yelling. Edward hugged you as you cried into his shirt. 

“Please Ed, let me go. I won’t run, I promise.” you begged. His heart sank. “I have no where else to go. Everything- everything is gone.” you begged. He had to trust you. The key made a sharp noise unlocking the handcuffs. He cut the rope tying you to the chair. You fell forward into his arms. 

“I didn’t want you getting hurt even more. By the media. By your family. By Bruce Wayne.”

“What about Bruce?” you asked, sitting down on his bed. He sat next to you, tending to your wound. “You don’t think he knew all of this? About the woman? The affair? The baby?” 

Your heart sank. “He told me about the corruption there’s no way he could have-” “No, no my sweet Y/N. He knew before the media did. Every single person on the forum got this before the media did. He knew,”

Edward stroked your hair, trying to get the blood out of it. “You’ll need a shower,” he sighed, placing the paper towels next to him. He gave you a few towels and lead you to the bathroom. You were still a bit wobbly. He sat outside his bathroom, listening to make sure you didn’t fall. 

Good thing he was listening, because you did fall.

The shower seemed to temporarily wash away the problems that have occurred in the last few hours. How could Bruce not tell you? How could your father do this? Did your brother’s know? Your no longer the baby of the family. You were showering in the Riddler’s shower?

Your vision began to blur in this cycle of anxiety, and the blood loss didn’t help.

Edward cautiously opened the door, his glasses fogging up. “A-are you okay?” he asked, looking at the floor. “Fuck- uh,” you said, trying to get up. You kept slipping in the oddly shaped tub. It had to be over thirty years old. “Help,” you asked. “Are you sure?” he asked, cautiously moving closer to the curtain. He heard you scramble around, your limbs scraping against the wet tub. “It’s okay,” you assured him. He wiped his glasses and opened the shower, gluing his eyes shut. He outstretched his arms, feeling the warm shower water hit them. “Hold on,” he said, grabbing the side of your naked body and pulling you up into a more comfortable position. He shut off the water with one hand, and guided you out with the other. He caught a glimpse of you, his vision heading straight to his dick. 

He handed you the towel from the rack and started to leave. You grabbed his arm, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you,” you smiled, tying the towel around yourself. 

He was shocked you didn’t hate him. 

He gave you a small smile back, and tried to leave again. This time you pulled his arm in, moving him close to you. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, feeling the gap naturally close. 

You kissed him. For what? He saved you. You didn’t understand the logic. You should have been fighting to leave. He didn’t hurt you. He saved you from lots of hurting. He showed you the real lie that you had been living your whole life. He was your savior. And that is why you kissed the Riddler.

Silence sat between you two. You hated the tension. After you had kissed him, he couldn’t make eye contact with you. Did you read this all wrong? How could he be interested in you. He was older than you. Almost ten years, in fact. He was poorer than you. He hated the rich. He had every reason to kill you and hide you where nobody could find you. But he didn’t. 

You sat on his bed wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He sat behind you, combing your hair for you as you stared at a crack on his wall.

“The kiss was nice,” he managed to squeak out. You smiled. “I was worried you didn’t like it,” “Would I be sitting here, braiding your hair and being with you if I didn’t?” he asked. “No, I guess not.” 

Silence again. 

“What are you going to do? With the information.” you asked him. “Whatever you want me to do.” he said, finishing the braid. He moved up and laid beside you. You sat and thought for a moment.

“Release it.” you sighed. 

Edward furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought you would want me to burn it,” he asked. “No. Fuck him. Fuck that whole family of mine.” you sighed, laying down now and facing him. He loved when you said that. He could feel the same rage in you as he felt in himself. Your wet hair dripped on his pillow. “We can leave, get out of the city. We have a nice place upstate it can be…”

But you forgot.

He’s the Riddler. The Riddler who has been killing. Number one enemy of the Gotham police at the moment. 

“I’m satisfied,” Edward said. “With what?” you asked. “I’ll leak it. All. Then I’m done. My work here is done.” he smiled. “You’ll give it up?” you asked him, meeting his doe eyes once again. He nodded his head and placed his lips to your forehead. “I’m done. Anything for you.”

“You are the only real person I’ve ever known, Edward Nashton.” you smiled, moving into his warm embrace. “You're perfect.” you whispered into his chest. 

He had already the grand finale planned. Instead of enjoying it in Arkham, he could enjoy it from the news in a comfy upstate home. Away from consequence, really happy for the first time ever in his life. 

-

tag list: @beenz-beenz @fikism @liveforkarljacobs @colorsofjun @kr4lie @slut-for-matt-murdock @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0

[farminglesbian]

these are some last tango fic fragments about anniversaries 💫

some longer, some not at all, i've had these lying around in various forms for 5 years; some i enjoy a lot, some less, some are just completely silly and i couldn't for the life of me make something more out of them, and other bits have been deleted, but anyhow it is time to post this at last and set it free :)

~

1.

She is 55 years old today and, believe it or not, on a hike.

It's chilly, it's rained at noon, but birds are chirping, and the occasional cheerful hikers couple passes them by while she and Gillian dawdle about, bicker over their exact location on their small hiking map, and take photos for Mum and Alan to show their gratitude for the bestowed romantic weekend getaway.

Except for now. Except that Gillian's pulled her off the trail, and there she is, out of breath and some persistent, tiny thing pricking her neck. And a persistent, tiny woman clinging to her.

Pressed between a large trunk and Gillian's warm mouth and body—which does drown out any silly tree bark biting into her skin—Caroline's knees slightly cave, her vision is swimming of Gillian's eyes and hair and sea-green windbreaker, her heartbeat's picking up speed. It's a distraction, and, as such, it's working.

Gillian's really going for it. Caroline surprises herself with the needy noise she makes that Gillian absorbs with a hum. She grins into her mouth, keeps planting pecks on her lips, all impish eyes. She full well knows what she's doing—and Caroline summons all her strength to gently but firmly push her an arms length away. 'You've no idea where we are, do you?'

''Course I do, but that's not important right now,' Gillian replies, not even trying to sound convincing, and Caroline should be offended, really, but Gillian, still holding onto Caroline's scarf and parka, pulls her close again and effectively shuts her up. Her mouth's well-kissed, tongue still tasting like the burgundy they guzzled at the last lodge two hours ago. With great foresight, Alan and Mum had gifted them a stay at a resort where the wine flows plenty and the nearby trails are, presumably, safe enough to not get even their most squiffed lodgers lost.

Gillian stops and giggles—another hiker's trotting past them, not noticing the two snogging women ten feet away. He's whistling, and it conjures a pleasant memory in Caroline's mind.

There's a grin spreading over Gillian's face as well, who carries on humming the song, filling in lyrics as she remembers, lips touching Caroline's mouth turning it staccato….. and I find you spinning 'round in my brain... like the bubbles in a glass of champagne.

You go to my head—Caroline's swaying, remembering the very song they danced to last night, the evening it led to at the hotel—like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew—she nuzzles Gillian's throat, inhales her smell—and I find the very mention of you… like the kicker in a julep or two.—Gillian's humming vibrates behind Caroline's ear, sends goosebumps across her spine.

Alas, two can play at this game, so Caroline steps it up a notch and lets her hands wander underneath Gillian's anorak, and further, under her robust cardigan, the plaid shirt, past the tank top and, finally—Gillian gasping in delight—touching skin. Her mouth on Caroline's becomes more urgent, reacting in unison with Caroline's fingers on her back, her soft hips, and sneaking further up, first grazing, then—'aah,' goes Gillian—pushing against her breasts until Gillian turns pliant, clinging in earnest, and one hand on the tree for support.

Her eyes grow darker, and it's gorgeous—but Caroline pulls away, slips out of the prison of trunk and Gillian, to the latter's pouty protest.

'The rest you'll get if we make it back to dinner in time, because I'm sure as hell not shagging you on an empty stomach.'

Gillian laughs, pulls away, and struts forward with determination—that is hopefully not entirely misguided—and picks up her crooning, as irresistible as booze in the afternoon, or kissing on a well-frequented hiking trail.

You go to my head… with a smile that makes my temperature rise… Like a summer with a thousand Julys... you intoxicate my soul with your eyes...

~

2.

'Stop checking on Greg.'

'I will, if you stop checking on Raff.'

'Do I have to remind you of the Great Downpour And Mucky Sheep Debacle of 2018 when we went to Spain? It rained for days, back home, and—'

'Mum and Alan are staying at the farm, having an eye!'

'That's… not having me less worried. Who's having an eye on them?'

'Let's just assume that everybody has an eye on each other.'

….

'Caz. You're doing it again. Remember we said no phones at dinner?'

'Greg might turn Flora into an addict while we're gone! Remember how he threatened to get her into healthy breakfast after deeming what I've been feeding her 'a catastrophe on her juvenile metabolism'? I might end up having to eat along chia seeds and goji berries for the next ten years! Or—no less worrisome—he might encourage her to change her entire wardrobe because he wants her to 'find herself.' She's eight, for Christ's sake!'

'You do dress her in a lot of pink.'

'I do not!'

'How can you even deny it?'

(Gillian promptly scrolls through her phone, offering the evidence not a second later, which rouses the suspicion she'd prepared for such a moment beforehand.)

'Fine! But, in my defence, she does look lovely in it, doesn't she?'

'That's true. I also hope you'll say the same next time she and Calam come back in, covered in sheep muck. Camouflage jumpsuits would work wonders there.'

….

'Gillian.'

'What? Raff sent a text earlier, sounding very worried about sheep not having finished their concentrate—bought another sort last week, shop didn't have our usual, and it's very important Maude and Shirley have proper calcium intake in late gestation—and he promised regular status reports.'

'We're mental. We're no better than every single phone-addicted youth we routinely bitch about over wine and organic crisps.'

'Well. A fault confessed is half redressed.'

~

3.

(On Valentine's day they spent the entire morning at B&Q and, later, Ikea, under the pretence of looking for wood panels and assorted knick-knacks for the long-postponed barn renovation project. Instead they bought an excessive amount of gardening supplies half of which won't ever experience actual usage, and a cart full of stuffed animals. They had lunch at the restaurant where Gillian fooled around with the meatballs until Caroline's mouth crinkled, played footsie until she smiled, embarrassed, and later snogged her on the loo until a teenaged girl walked in, shrieked, blushed, apologized for the interruption, and ran for it, resulting in Caz bursting into laughter, guffawing herself to tears, and afterwards blaming Gillian for her bellyache while wrapping her arm around her side, kissing her cheek.

In the evening, Gillian sat Caroline down on the couch with an abysmal action movie rerun and got her pleasantly enough squiffed for her to put her head in Gillian's lap and let Gillian run her fingers through her hair for the small eternity it took for Caroline to fall asleep.)

~

4.

Muted, insistent pinging rouses Gillian awake.

She groans. Reaches under her pillow, it is still dark, she quickly turns off the alarm but Caroline remains fast asleep at any rate. For the trained eye of an early riser, enough of the distant morning light creeps in through the window to make out shapes.

Caroline hisses softly and shifts closer, her hands not quite touching Gillian. Her collar's twisted, a button's opened up, revealing cleavage. Gillian—and it has hit her a few times before—cannot believe that she would be so lucky. It's been a few weeks of incomprehensible marvels.

Caroline's left hand carries a reminder of what she'd won and lost. Gillian imagines the finger empty, sometimes she wants it to be before she catches herself. She tucks hair behind Caroline's ear lest it'll tickle her nose and wake her.

Last night before bed she'd stuffed several bulky birthday presents into the downstairs closet, dinosaur plushies—as Flora's just entered a palaeontological phase—of which the girl will briskly point out the anatomical inaccuracies, and the accompanying encyclopedia to back up her claims, all wrapped up and ready to be conquered amidst a frankly terrifying amount of eight-year-olds who will be coming over at 2 o'clock.  

Gillian gets up, slinks heavily out of bed, sheds her pyjamas with her back to Caroline. She is taking in the growing light painting the landscape of the farm into existence—might be a sunny afternoon today. There's a single bleat from barn. The sheep are not quite ready for the inevitable invasion of being admired, petted, and debatably molested by primary schoolers.

Caroline stirs and pulls the blanket closer to her chest. They'd gone to sleep entangled. Now Caroline's hugging another pillow, her face content.

Gillian puts on trousers and a T-shirt and jumper, thinks of the dress in the wardrobe chosen for the afternoon, of Caroline's hands on the material, her soft approval, pictures her hands on the dress, on Gillian.

While cutting hay bales, she thinks of Caz smiling about the girls being happy, of her almost certainly complaining afterwards about mucky clothes and sour parents, of finding methods to elevate her mood later, dishes and all be damned.

Back in the kitchen, she starts another batch of coffee, sets the table for a small breakfast, and goes back upstairs, sheds her clothes down to soft underwear. She crawls back into bed, spoons Caroline, and is told she smells of sheep. Gillian answers by pulling her closer, finding her hand under the blanket, and soothing the finger wearing the ring. Caroline tenses, almost imperceptibly, then relaxes into her arms, warmth spreading all over Gillian's body.

'You ready for today?', Gillian quietly says, caressing Caroline's arms, hands, sides, everything she can reach.

Caroline exhales, turns around to face her. 'Yep', she says. Smiling only for her.

~

5.

'To 10 years of marriage and an inspiration to us all...'

'10 years, huh.'

'Cheers. I can't quite believe it, either.'

'To Dad and Celia.'

'Without whom we wouldn't be here today.'

'Quite literally…'

'Well, and thanks to our nosy sons.'

'Do you reckon we'd have still met some day, dropping the girls off at kindergarten or something?'

'Well, if we had, you'd have probably still nicked my parking space.'

'And you'd've shouted at me, called me trailer trash.'

'And you me a snotty bitch.'

'And we'd have gotten into an argument over who should and shouldn't be allowed to drive cars, and proper child care and—'

'Ah, you mean just like we did last week?'

'Must be fate, then.'

'Err, I don't know if I like that thought. It's more like... stuff that happens, leads to actions, leads to where we get in the end. Just like... with those two. Even though it took them a while. But, you know, I'm actually grateful to your mother for not delivering that letter to Alan.'

'You… are?'

'Yep. Well… not to mention the fact that we wouldn't have been born if she had…'

'Or—who knows—could've been born actual sisters!'—'Oi, that hurt!'

'You wouldn't have your Raff, I wouldn't have Will and Lawrence, and... Flora.'

'Your mum, she could've been spared a lot of stuff, a shit marriage for starters… But I quite like how things have turned out.'

'Wasn't always easy… but I like where I've ended up.'

'Shacked up with a sturdy sheep farmer. Imagine what your twatty former Oxford student self would say to that!'

'Shut up and kiss me.'

~

6.

Gillian's in bed, staring blindly at the ceiling. It's pitch-dark. She's had a nightmare, and her cheek still smarts from it.

It always being the same, awful conjuration, especially around this time of year, of Eddie, and the imprint he left on her subconscious, only ever so slowly fading over the years.

Yesterday, late afternoon, she got drunk in Marge's pub, the one he had hated her going to. Marge had called Ellie, at work.

Caroline had arrived two hours later, only just back home from school, to pick her up. Instead, they stayed, shared another bottle of red, and danced to 80s ballads night for an hour plus, Caroline holding her in a way that, only outwardly, was warranted by Gillian's inebriated state.

She doesn't remember getting home, into her pyjamas, into bed. Caroline won't mention it, and that's the kindest thing, the kindest of all partners. What a thing, to have Caroline by her side. The blackness is all-encompassing but Caroline asleep next to her takes its threat away.

Only when she wakes in daylight to an empty bed she acknowledges that she must have fallen back asleep. She gulps down the glass of water and pills that have been left on her bedside table, quietly sneaks downstairs and out of the door, past Caroline busying herself with preparing breakfast.

The cool, new April air embraces her as she slowly walks a few steps away from the house, stops, inhales with closed eyes, opens them, surveys the dale before her.

She doesn't notice the passing of time, until the door opens, and familiar footsteps come closer. Two arms slowly circle her stomach and settle down on her waist, and a now long familiar body presses against her back. She's not cold any more where Caroline leans into her.

The wind whispers into the ground, Caroline into her hair, and on the huge landscape of the dale they are insignificant, small figures, yet firmly grounded to the earth. The fringe of Caroline's scarf tickles Gillian's neck, crawls into her face. The sky is a vast dome above them, the lavish, fleeting, arrangement of clouds demanding reverence, but Gillian only adores this moment, herself, and the woman holding her.

'I've made scrambled eggs. Feel like eating something?'

'Thanks', Gillian states, holding her close, looking ahead. Basking in the warmth.

'You're welcome.', Caroline replies, amused—but she also gets it.

~

7.

Caroline comes through the door to the sound of tableware breaking.

'Gillian?'

She'd come over to Gillian's for a night in, dooming Greg instead of herself to Flora's blabbering about her inane new favourite YouTube channel for the rest of the day.

In front of Gillian, there are cardboard boxes covered in a fine lining of dust. One's opened, and Gillian's taking out a plate and smashes it. Deliberately, it seems.

One after another, factory-fresh, pure white plates, edges adorned with a modest floral pattern.

For a dangerous split second they look at each other.

'What the hell are you doing.' Caroline gingerly steps closer, avoiding shards.

'Spring cleaning.'

'What?'

'They were a wedding present. From the first one.'

'All right, but—'

'He'd picked them.' She grabs another plate—a soup dish—and lets it fall to the floor. Flippantly. Outrageously.

'Wasn't even allowed to use them.'

She hands one to Caroline, takes another one out of the box. Drops it, right in front of her. It's becoming a right mess, there, on the kitchen floor. The noise is also very satisfying.

A laugh bubbles out of Caroline until she stops herself, holds Gillian's hands down.

'Gillian, for God's sake stop it, and we'll tidy all this up right now.'

'But we're not done yet.', Gillian says, smiling, gently freeing herself, wiping fat dust bunnies off the top of another box and opening it, taking out cups and saucers.

When Raff comes in an hour later, it's to suspicious mad laughter and a battle site in the kitchen.

'What the hell are you doing?'—he winces, shouts, his besocked foot having fallen victim to a shard—'Have you finally lost it?'

Gillian and Caroline freeze and go quiet, but before Gillian's able to mutter an explanation, Caroline pinches her ass and makes her yelp, and both of them dissolve into giggles again.

'Absolute madhouse, this is.' Raff throws his hands in the air, rolls his eyes, dramatically, dissolves into a stream of expletives himself.

Laughter follows him up the stairs as he leaves the room, shaking his head.

~

8.

Gillian has long replaced the succession of awkward wedding photos on the mantelpiece with pictures of her and Caroline—one of them at Raff's reception, Flora and Calamity at their side, competing with them for most brilliant smile. Two are from their Barcelona holiday—one's Gillian at Tibidabo in a roller coaster car with the girls, calm and smiling at Caroline behind the lens. The one next to it is of herself—Caroline remembers Gillian talking her into taking her picture at the beach—the same curious wonder in her face as Gillian's had in hers, back then.

And, at the corner, in a wooden frame glued together by the kids, resides a snapshot of them sat on the couch together, both asleep and Caroline's head on Gillian's shoulder. Calamity had just gotten her own mobile.

Caz has long given up on trying to keep this and other surfaces of the farm as spotless as her own house. She imagines it is lacking tidiness today, anyway, under Lawrence's and Angus's sole rule. Reluctantly, she'd given her younger son free reign over the house for his birthday, to which he, to no surprise of Caroline's, had only invited Angus to, presumably, further their stellar careers as internet influencers—or for other reasons, as Gillian may have had suggested once. And had shocked Caroline, of all people, who remained of the conviction there is only ever one family gay, a position already proudly filled by yours truly.

Lawrence, squeaking through her phone speakers, at this very moment tries to reassure her that everything is under control, but Caroline hears a bump, and a crash, and winces, then Angus is cursing, tinnily but inappropriately in the background, so Gillian pats her arm and pours her another generous fill of wine.

'Don't worry about it, we'll have our own little party,' she says, though Caroline doesn't look very convinced. 'I'll help you tidy up tomorrow.'

She lets one wool sock-clad foot wander up Caroline's calf just as, fortunately, Lawrence rings off, and Caz drops the phone onto the couch. Live and let live.

'Remember you got insurance', Gillian breathes, and it's the sexiest thing ever.

Caroline has a sip of her wine, delicately puts down the glass, and pulls Gillian towards her.

~

[jlalafics]

"Photograph"-a Royal!Everlark story

This was inspired by this prompt from @writing-prompt-s:

When you were seven, you held a fake wedding by the swings with a kid you met at the park. You never saw your childhood “spouse” again after that day. Today you received a letter summoning you to a foreign country… where your wedding to the heir to the throne twenty years ago is seen as valid.

This is totally unedited. Thank you to @sparklingdust4612 for bringing this prompt to my attention. Looking forward to everyone else's interpretations along with this one and the story by @jhsgf82!

I actually have more of this but I thought I'd show y'all a little bit of my interpretation of the above prompt.

****

We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

And time's forever frozen, still…

-Ed Sheeran

Photograph

Katniss Everdeen loved building castles.

In the massive sandbox, she packed another bunch of sand into her bucket before placing it upside down to set. While waiting, Katniss imagined how she would decorate the inside of her palace, a delighted smile growing on her face as she thought of the possibilities.

First, the walls would all be yellow. Not the ugly yellow that looked like snot—but yellow like Prim’s, her baby sister, golden locks.

Yellow meant hope: that’s what Daddy always said.

Knocking on the sides of the bucket to loosen the sand like Mommy showed her, Katniss slowly lifted it revealing a perfect tower for her castle.

“Yes!” she hollered, jumping up in excitement.

Her eyes went to Mommy who was sitting on the bench across the way. She was talking to a pretty, yellow-haired woman with a big tummy. Prim was asleep in her stroller, her binky hanging from her mouth.

“Mommy!” Katniss rushed over, stopping just a scant from toppling over on the concrete. “Look! I’ve made the perfect tower!”

Her mother smiled proudly.

“That’s wonderful, Katniss.” She turned to the woman next to her. “My Katniss is always building and dreaming on how to make her perfect home. Her teachers tell me that she has such a creative mind for a seven-year-old.”

“How absolutely charming,” the woman responded kindly, a smile on her pink lips.

Katniss tilted her head at the sound of her voice. There was something different about the way the lady talked—the dips of it sounded strange—but still nice.

“Why do you sound like that?” she asked bluntly.

Her Mommy frowned. “Katniss Everdeen! Please apologize!” She looked to the woman once more. “I’m so sorry—”

“That’s perfectly alright,” the lady assured her. The pretty woman turned to Katniss. “I have a little bit of an accent because of where I’m from, that’s why my voice sounds different.”

Katniss nodded. “Okay, but it does sound nice…like a song!” She smiled. “What’s your name?”

The woman glowed like an angel. “My name is Marguerite.”

“Hello Miss Marguerite.” Katniss looked to where her sandcastle waited. “I better go before someone takes my stuff! Bye!”

Throwing a wave at the woman, she plopped back down onto her space in the sandbox ready to add some detailing to her newest tower—

The foot crushing her tower landed straight in the middle of it creating a space between each side.

Katniss fumed and her eyes went up to the blond-haired boy with the snooty face.

She stood, her hand slamming into his chest. “Hey! You destroyed my castle!”

The boy stared at her in shock. “No one ever touches me!”

“Until now—”

Katniss was suddenly blocked by another boy, tall and dark-skinned.

“No one touches his royal highness,” he declared, and the blond boy stuck his tongue at her.

Another boy, this one dark-haired and sharp-eyed, approached.

“Prince Peeta has decided that you will be his bride,” he stated with a scowl.

Katniss made a face, crossing her arms to show them how disgusting that sounded. “Gross.”

The so-called Prince Peeta walked over to her.

“As my bride, you can make as many sandcastles as you want,” he explained. “I’ll build a bigger sandbox than this for you!”

Something inside zinged at the thought. “Really?”

The boy shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Katniss eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you want to marry me anyway?”

Peeta shifted in his stance, the confidence in his blue eyes suddenly wavering. “I like your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

A rise of pink colored his cheeks. “They’re soft…and pretty.”

That had been it for her.

On that warm afternoon, by the swings of District 12’s only playground, Katniss Everdeen married the so-called Prince Peeta.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Gale, the dark-haired boy, said. He looked at Peeta, a teasing smile on his face. “Go on—kiss her!”

“Close your eyes,” Peeta told her.

Katniss, wearing her paper towel veil courtesy of the park’s public bathroom, did what he said and closed her eyes.

SPLAT!

She barely registered being shoved down into the muddy puddle.

Katniss looked up at the sneering boy, feeling the rise of anger in her body.

“That’s what you get for pushing me.”

++++++

Twenty years later…

“Katniss.” She looked up from laptop to find Prim at her open doorway. Her sister held out a Fed-Ex envelope. “This just came for you.”

Without even glancing at it, Katniss tossed the envelope on her bed, going back to the open page on her screen.

“Don’t you want to open it?” Prim stepped into the room and plopped onto the bed, picking the post up to examine it. “It looks important.”

“Probably one of those things saying that I’m eligible for another credit card.” Katniss frowned, sitting back, and staring at the blinking cursor. “I’m so stuck on this blog post!”

“Is this the one about kitchen flowers?” her sister asked, and she nodded. “You got some great pictures from Madge’s shop.”

“I know but my writing inspiration is zilch,” Katniss explained. “I need to get this done if I want to post by Mother’s Day.”

“Speaking of Mother’s Day, mom is wondering if you’re bringing anyone to Sunday dinner,” Prim informed her.

“I love our mother but lately every conversation we’ve had is either about my lack of a dating life or my withering eggs,” Katniss said. “Right now, I need to focus on getting more attention on the blog. It’s just gaining momentum!” She rested back and turned to her sister. “This is important to me.”

“I know,” Prim replied. “And you are good at it. I mean, look at what you’ve done to our apartment! To this room!”

Her sister’s bright blue eyes looked around the buttercream room, beautifully decorated with white-washed furniture. The console that her television sat atop was bought at a nearby thrift shop and refurbished by her. Katniss had sanded it down before putting a whitewash over it and adding lacquer to give it a more modern look.

In fact, most of the furniture in her and Prim’s apartment was completely refurbished by her. She had always had an eye for decorating and instead of going to a four-year college, Katniss had opted to go to design school.

Creating something new from what people considered junk gave her a special kind of thrill—almost akin to being in love.

At least that’s what she thought it might feel like.

“Whoa!”

Katniss whipped over to her sister—who was holding an unfolded paper in her hands.

She stood from her seat and went to Prim. “What?”

Wordlessly, Prim handed the piece to her—it was a letter.

The letter was on marbled paper, an elegant insignia atop it, and she could see that the elegant calligraphy was done by hand:

Dear Miss Everdeen,

You are hereby summoned to the kingdom of Panem to present yourself to His Royal Highness, King Peeta.

Photo documentation has validified that you are the Queen Consort to His Royal Highness.

Attached is my business card, please contact me to arrange your travel to Panem.

Respectfully,

The Rt. Hon. Effie Trinket

Private Secretary to His Royal Highness

“This is a joke!” Katniss tossed the letter onto her desk and laughed. “Photo documentation? There is no such thing—”

The laugh fell from her lips as Prim turned the FedEx envelope upside down and a single photo fell onto her bedspread.

“There’s a business card in here, too,” Prim told her carefully.

Walking over, Katniss could see that the photo was facedown.

Trembling, she picked the print up and read the elegant cursive atop it:

‘Peeta and his new bride, Katniss Everdeen!’

Next to the caption was a happy face; it was obvious that this statement was made in jest.

Turning the photograph, a wave of nausea hit seeing the image of her seven-year-old self, a paper towel veil atop her head, joining hands with a blond boy—

Prince Peeta.

Or to be more precise, His Royal Highness King Peeta of Panem.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one! 

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration) 

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.  

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

**

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

**

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.  

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.  

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."  

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."  

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

[tepid-tea]

I apologize in advance as this is completely unedited and its probably full of errors and typos lol. I’m posting this while in a meeting for work so lol I’ll try and find time to fix anything later. 

This is a Modern AU and all of the prompts will be in the same set. If you have any suggestions let me know! So I hope you enjoy!

Oct 1st_ Fall Leaves “Uncle Caleb nooo!!” Luc shrieked, his laughter ringing high as the boy ran through the fallen leaves.  Each footstep crunched  and rustled as the halfling boy rushed through the piles before disappearing into the mountain of raked leaves.

“Oh no, where did he go?” Caleb called out, his tone playfully rough to fill his role of ‘monster’ in their game. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

They’d been at this for a while now, the young boy ducking into the high piles of leaves that Caleb had raked up in their backyard. Luc was the perfect height to disappear and like his mother could be sneaky when he put his mind to it.  Caleb gave chase as the monster hunting down the young hero while Essek watched from their back porch; taking videos and photos as they played.

This was their first fall in this house; Esseks first fall in the Empire even, so seeing their backyard turn into a sea of golden yellows and vibrant oranges was an absolute delight. He spent several mornings waiting for his partner to wake looking out the window to watch the way the light trickled through the leaves. It was so different from Roshana, where he grew up solely in the city and most of their trees only bore red leaves. Then after meeting Caleb he had lived in Nicodranas for a few years where there were palm trees and it never got really cold enough for the leaves to change much. To now, in the first house that he and Caleb owned together, he got to experience this. 

An old two and a half story home in a nice quiet family neighbourhood with a large backyard filled with trees and space to garden. Hell, they probably had enough room for the green house he and Yasha had talked about once with Caduceus; at that time only a fun dream they shared. Now with Yasha and Beau with their apartment about a half hour into the city by the Soul, perhaps they could give it a try. He and Caleb did hope to have several years in this old house afterall, so they could try.

Soon a loud battle cry pulled back his attention, Essek watched as Luc burst out of the leaf pile with such flare it would make his mother proud and knocked Caleb to the ground. The red headed wizard cried out in defeat, splaying himself out across the grass in equal dramatics. By the exaggerated cry of defeated dying monster sounds their game was finally wrapping up; the afternoon sun starting to set now.

Snapping a few photos to send to Veth and Yeza on his phone of the pair rolling around in the leaves, Essek made his way over. The goal was to get Luc fed and tucked into bed before his parents got home from their date night. Veth would give them shit if the seven year old was still bouncing around by the time they swung by to pick him up. They had only made that mistake once.

“Oh valiant warrior, now that you’ve conquered the dangerous beast I think it's time to wash your hands and get ready for supper” Essek smiled down at the two, rolling his eyes at the groans he got in return. Both seemed to spread out more in defiance, making themselves starfish in the sea of autumn leaves.

 He playfully nudged his partner in the ribs with the toe of his slipper while their nephew had him pinned to the ground still. A large freckled hand grabbed at his ankle in warning; eyes meeting in challenge when there was a slight tug. That earned the human an arched eyebrow in return; daring the human to follow through with his game he was not going to win. When the hand let go of his ankle, the drow gave his human a fanged smirk before looking back at their nephew.

“Come on, Pizza should be here in twenty minutes” Essek waved a hand to adjust gravity then scooped Luc off of Caleb's chest and propped him on his hip. Luc ooed the whole way up, nearly wiggling out of Esseks arms in excitement over the small bit of magic.

With a squirming chatty halfling in his arms, Essek made his way back towards the house as Luc retold his tale of his battle. Sounds of Caleb groaning as he pulled himself up off the ground could be heard as they made their way up the cobbled path to their back deck. Waiving his free hand, Essek levitated his blanket and pillow to fold themselves then follow them into the house.

Once inside he set Luc down so he could grab the levitated items and gesture the boy towards their downstairs bathroom. As the boy scampered away, Essek watched him go before moving to put the outdoor bedding into the trunk by the backdoor.  Once he heard the sink running he called out to remind Luc to remember to use soap, which earned him a sassy ‘yes uncle Essek’ causing him to snort softly.  Shaking his head, he toed out of his slippers and made to head towards their kitchen.

“What do hungry beasts get to eat?” Caleb asked, keeping that same rumbling tone, arms snaking around Esseks waist to stop him. The drow was pulled flushed against the other man's chest, one long ear twitching as a cool nose nuzzles against it. Warm but also slightly cold from their time outside, the others hands toyed with the hem of his sweater.

“Pizza of course; however” Essek paused, turning to gently pluck a stray yellow leaf out of Caleb's hair and looked up at him through his eyelashes.“Perhaps there can be a dessert for him later.”

He watched colour flood his partner's face, hair loose and wildly hanging out of his once braided ponytail. Dirt was smudged over his freckled cheek, blue eyes wide as they dilated into dark pools of desire as they met his own violet. The playful mood shifted for that quick moment now that they were alone in their downstairs hallway, the back door still wide open for whoever in their neighbourhood dared to see.

“But only if he’s real good” He added after with a purr, pressing a brief kiss to the others mouth before slinking out of Caleb's arms.  Essek booped the others' noses with the leaf before disappearing into their kitchen with a sly smile. As soon as he was out of the others line of sight, he heard the human thunder up their stairs to their ensuite bathroom.

Laughing softly to himself, he flicked his journal out of his wristpock and grabbed a pen off the counter. Opening a fresh page he jotted down the date and pressed the leaf in between the pages. Pressing the book closed, he closed his eyes and held the book tightly in his hands  and up against his chest.  Essek listened to the laughter as it echoed through their old but new house and couldn’t help but smile.

[redrobin-detective]

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted. 

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on. 

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie. 

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers. 

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her. 

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand. 

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom. 

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!” 

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin and MC’s High School History- Detailed Timeline

Dedicated to my amazing and kind friend @cheri-cheri- one of the Queens of the MLQC fandom on Tumblr! I literally didn’t know how to use it before but I had learnt how in order to keep up with her posts. Without her work, I literally wouldn’t be on here making my own blog either. Thank you, Cheri!!

This is a timeline following the years of high school that MC and Gavin had together. Compiled of dates, rumours and secrets, calls, texts, and other from multiple servers. The source will be shown allocated to its corresponding sentence. I created this because I was really moved when I rewatched Gavin’s Old Days Date and suddenly thought of the many things other players could have missed out on regarding their high school years. If there is anything you need clarification on, or if you would like to add anything in, feel free to send a post/ask or just comment and I’ll try to incorporate and adjust accordingly! 

Based off of true correspondence of the Chinese education system in Shanghai, where the schools there are very strict, with specific responsibilities and events students must have and attend to. In addition, this is different from Western school systems where years 7-9 are in a seperate schools from years 10-12 before university. Dates and seasons mentioned will also be noted as accurately as possible to suit the Loveland storyline in which different events occurred. I felt like a detective trying to piece a fractured storyline together to solve a mystery, honestly...

Prepare your tissues, your milk tea and your soul because even I almost didn’t make it to publish this...

Timeline

2008

Gavin enters high school.

2009

MC and Minor enter high school. MC does her hair in a nice ponytail, one of the only hairstyles she ever had in school.

Gavin is a grade above her. He is in his last year of high school. [Spring Festival Date]

Late Autumn of October 2010

“I noticed who you were before you ever noticed me.” 

On a rainy first day of school, Gavin helps Mr Keller move the tables and chairs in the classroom. 

Without taking an umbrella, Gavin leaves. 

At the same time, MC saves a cat in the rain with her handkerchief, attempting to shield it from the incoming rain under a roof. She gives it snacks from her bag while sheltering it from the rain. 

Gavin thinks she was nerdy-looking, but couldn't take his eyes off her and watches her from a distance for a long time. He feels out of place standing.

She looks back at him in astonishment, not knowing how long he stood for. 

She smiles at Gavin.

Gavin notes that MC’s smile just like her eyes, were pure and comforting as they start filling his vision. 

The rain starts to get heavier and MC shivers. 

Something stirred in Gavin’s heart as he notices this, and kicks a can in frustration then shelters her with his jacket. 

He runs away as MC shouts, “thank you!” 

She didn’t know it was Gavin who gave her his jacket at the time.

MC goes back and is then told by her fellow classmates that the boy she encountered was the “tyrant school bully”,  and “the Underworld Senior Gavin”, and that she should stay away from him. [Tilted Time- Rumours and Secrets]

-

MC finds piano dull to play the same songs over and over again.

MC in her spare time practices and sings to Liszt’s Liebestraum No. 3 (Love Dream) for a talent show.

At the rooftop, Gavin is wounded by a gangster’s knife. A gradually intensifying melody is heard. 

Gavin kicks the gangster boss but then is pursued again. Outnumbered, wounded and losing consciousness due to major blood loss, the gangster boss kicks Gavin off the roof. 

Gavin reaches out, to something- anything. 

A heavy, surging melody sounded, transcending through time and allows Gavin to reflect on his past- to his father, to his late mother, and invokes deep reflection and epiphanies. 

Heavy notes seep into Gavin’s ears as he almost hits rock bottom. He feels his limbs emerging with the wind and awakens his wind evol. 

Gavin is now reborn.

The music continued to play. Gavin ends up humming with a bird. 

He then hears MC’s singing.

MC stops, mesmerised by the ginkgo leaves flying through the wind. The ginkgo leaves falling was her favourite time of the year in high school. This vivid sight is still engraved in her memory after many years.

Gavin vows to protect her for the rest of his life. [Campus Date]

-

Gavin saved Minor from bullies. 

Minor also happens to be MC’s outgoing, talkative desk mate who sometimes helped old ladies cross the street. How he managed to hang around Gavin and not get beaten up, nobody knew (except us). He would often copy MC’s homework but never dragged her down with him if he got caught. This was MC’s biggest impression of him. 

During science class, MC cooked noodles for Minor on the Bunsen burner when he was hungry. The recipe was Shrimp flavoured instant noodles, mix two eggs in well, then add a dab of sea salt and black pepper. [S1 Chapter 7-1]

-

Gavin is always at the school gates at 7:30am. Carrying his flat school bag, he orders fish balls at the snack kiosk on the north side of the school. It was the third day in a row that Minor notices this. [Minor’s Memory Book]

Gavin would occasionally travel around on his bicycle. (Pre-debut Sparky??) He says he was good at riding it. [Lost Love Date]

It was hard to find Gavin as he’s rarely at school, so she didn’t see him until 3 days later when MC went to the library at sunset. 

She tries to retrieve “Byron’s Poetry Collection” from the top of a 2-metre shelf, and since Gavin was a head taller, he was able to help her get it. 

He musters up the introduction that he recited many times- but MC quickly thanks him and leaves before he could speak.

Minor notices Gavin watching after MC and that he was SMIL-ING. 

He helps him locate MC and reports that every day after school she would go to the library for afternoon revision, always sitting in the same seat. 

Gavin sat at a corner not far, quietly flipping through textbooks he hated. People who were reading in the library would be driven away because they were scared of him LOL

MC would then leave at 5pm sharp to go back home. 

Gavin commits to walking back 10 metres behind her with Minor every day on forward. [CN Tilted Time Rumours and Secrets] 

-

Gavin saves Minor from bullies again. Minor dedicates himself to be his “bro”. 

He finds out that MC is an honours student, but doesn’t know that she’s the school orchestra leader. [Mystery Wings Event] and [Mark Date] However, he does know that she’s renowned as the “campus belle/ school flower”.

Minor idly mentions that more people were giving MC love letters.

Gavin tells Minor to collect all the people who were planning to confess their love to MC. Minor doesn’t want to be wingman anymore HAHA

Gavin stared those boys down as they trembled with fear. He tells them to take them back and if they scare her, he’ll make them regret it. 

Minor realises Gavin’s feelings for MC. [Minor’s Memory Book] 

-

MC eats from a small stall outside the school gate selling red bean puffs. ($3 for one, $5 for two. What a deal!) 

She also encounters the stall that sells sugar figurines [Gift of Life- Sugar Figurine Call]

MC ate chocolate sticks often at school. It's also a memory of student life for Gavin, as well. [CN 2021 March Sign-In Taste of Happiness]

Students would scramble for the small swing set in the school garden. MC never went at lunch breaks, but she watches the sunset on it after school. Gavin is sometimes nearby. MC never noticed him, but she does however notice the ginkgo leaves dancing in the wind. [Mini House Small Happening- Leisure Time]

-

Gavin isn’t his usual self anymore. He sees MC out in the library everyday and starts reading “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions” (book for colleague entrance examinations).

MC watches a basketball match at school. She calls someone from an away team “dashing” because they won with a dunk. This has been engraved in Gavin’s memory ever since. [Dreamers Date]

Gavin found out that he was very fond of basketball success stories, rushing into the court to try hundreds of shots after. He writes “I will beat you” beside Sakuragi Hanamichi from a Slam Dunk poster alongside ���not a step back”.

(Slam Dunk starts out with a boy wanting to play basketball to impress his crush.)

Gavin then injures his head badly :(

He realises that basketball couldn’t help him to protect anything he wanted. He determines that he will do whatever it takes (to “beat” himself”). [Mystery Wings Event]

-

Gavin leans against a tree as he watches MC hurry down the corridor as she clutches a textbook. [Boundary Rumours and Secrets]

MC would eat pocky. Gavin would eat them too. [2021 March Sign-In Moments]

- 

MC faints during a sports meet because she didn’t eat breakfast.

Gavin hurries to carry her to the infirmary. [CN Delightful Search Date]

He leaves bread and milk before she wakes up.

-

MC is on duty during PE class, which happens to be on basketball. 

Minor was careless about his aim and the ball almost hit her in the head. Gavin slams the ball away. [Minor’s Memory Book]

Gavin glares at Minor as MC thanks him.

Minor also “accidentally” pushes MC towards him.

Gavin glares again.

Gavin later is continuously shooting hoops. 

MC returns late at night to clean up the gym but all had been returned neatly in the basket. MC wanted to thank him but couldn’t. [CN Basketball Court Date]

-

There was a school sports competition that they attended. Gavin participated in the 10 lap race and came first by an impressive large measure. [Minor’s Memory Book]

MC participates in the sprint race, too. Gavin is worried about her performance, and if she would faint again. 

Gavin requests Minor to take a photo of her on his phone (which probably ended up as the photo that he carried with him in his early days at special training where the other men teased him about hiding a photo of a girl.) 

Approaching the End of October 

Gavin, Minor and MC are walking home. 

The weather is cold, and Gavin notices MC shivering in the distance. Gavin, conflicted by this, tells Minor to buy MC a hot drink without telling her that it was from him. [CN Tilted Time Rumours and Secrets] 

MC would occasionally spot a hot drink or a carton of strawberry milk in the piano room. [Chapter 31-12]

-

Gavin one day is conflicted by their early exchange, recalling how MC looks startled at the entrance of the library after seeing each other. His spirit depletes, kicking himself (metaphorically) in the corner of the classroom at how he might have scared her. 

Minor rushes in with a pink bandaid from MC for the wound at his mouth. 

He carefully took that bandaid, treating it as if it was his world’s most precious treasure.

This pink bandaid was always taped on his heart and whenever he stepped into the swamp-like darkness of the night, it gave off a faint warmth. [Mystery Wings Event]

-

MC starts to notice Gavin everywhere. At the corners of windows, she would see his figure. At the library, he would help her retrieve books from higher places. She would also see books laid out on his table, but most of the time he would be sleeping. Beneath his overlapping arms, he sees “Byron’s Poetry Collection”. Gavin doesn’t understand the poems, though. 

Lord Byron's "Don Juan" - Canto the Ninth, XVI 

"To be, or not to be?" — Ere I decide I should be glad to know that which is being? 'Tis true — we speculate both far and wide, And deem, because we see, we are all-seeing; For my part, I'll enlist on neither side Until I see both sides for once agreeing; For me, I sometimes think that Life is Death,

-

At the music rehearsal room on the fifth floor, she would see a corner of his shirt in the wind. 

MC thinks Gavin is friendly and slowly lets down her guard. 

At the canteen, he would offer her the last bottle of water. 

She begins smiling at him when they see each other, with the small arcs forming on her lips, soon becoming smiles that made her eyes squint.

-

MC would walk along the Senior hallways and subconsciously stop at a certain classroom- catching the sight of Gavin sleeping. On one particular day, she sees him standing by the window, staring at the sky. 

-

Minor asks Gavin if he could form a band with him. Gavin rejects him. He then asks Gavin if he wanted to join the school’s singing competition. Gavin rejects him again, saying that he didn’t perform for unimportant people or have others tell him how well he could play.

MC plays “Falling Slowly” on the piano. Gavin hearing this, learns to play the guitar. He doesn’t know the name of the song but familiarises himself with the melody. [CN Music and the Past Call]

-

Whenever school let students out early, she would go to Lynn’s Kitchen. MC gets her noodles with clear broth, chopped scallions and a half-boiled egg. Gavin usually gets his spicy noodles with garlic, cilantro, thinly sliced beef.

Gavin remembers her favourite order. 

MC leaves a post-it note at Lynn’s Kitchen, “I might never see you again and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I miss you”, about a friend who transferred schools. 

Gavin knows she hates people who leave without saying goodbye the most.

Gavin, also in the vicinity near Lynn’s Kitchen, writes a post note.  “Until I met you.” [Mystery Box Game]

He saves Mr Noah’s son from an accident, immediately takes him to the hospital and pays for the medical fees. [Anime]

-

Gavin dismisses rumours of high school romance. 

“If you confessed on the 7th step of the stairway in the corner of the 3rd floor then it’ll succeed, or if you carved your name and another person’s name on the 6th tree in the courtyard at the back then your misunderstandings will be resolved, or if a guy gave the girl he liked the second button of his uniform on graduation day then the two of them will end up happy together.”

At lunch, he hears MC talking about the second button, and upon seeing her yearning face, he raises his head in thought, suddenly couldn’t wait for graduation. He tears off his second button. [Mystery Wings Event]

Gavin is just in love at this point.

-

Gavin sees one of the top students stealing money from a shop outside of school. The shopkeeper doesn’t believe him. 

He stops the student on his way home to hand him back the money. 

MC sees him at the alley then leaves.

Gavin spent all the money on a walkman he wanted for a very long time.

Mr Keller was the only one who believed in him. He said to him, “Since you can’t change what others think of you, you might as well just listen to your heart.” This had a great impact on Gavin. [Campus Date] 

Winter 

In the snowfall, the school allowed additional ten minutes of break time. The class next to MC’s stuffed Minor’s shirt with snowballs.

Gavin thought of helping him with a counterattack but MC had already returned a snowball to the male student who pulled the prank. 

Gavin looks at MC the whole time. [CN Recovery ASMR]

-

MC overheads girls in her class say that Gavin had bullied students for lunch money that morning. 

MC rides her bike back home after studying at the library for her finals. 

MC sees Gavin being handed an envelope full of money at Lynn’s Kitchen in an alleyway. 

She mistook it for him taking protection money. 

-

Summer of June 2011

On a humid afternoon, MC looks outside the window of the classroom in boredom. A boy in a loose-fitting school uniform ran by. She couldn’t make out his face. [S1 Chapter 7-23]

MC begins to distance herself from Gavin. She rushes out of class and goes straight home instead.

Gavin is sad. He broods by the piano room, goes to the library to brood, then stares at the place MC sits to brood some more. 

Minor wonders how he’s able to stare all afternoon at an empty space in the library but sleeps all day during class hours. [Minor’s Memory Book]

Before graduation, Gavin’s father expresses his thoughts for Gavin to join the organisation for special training. Gavin refuses, but his father uses MC to influence him to agree. 

Gavin remembers the panic and timidity in MC’s eyes when she first met him. He recalls that moment was probably the hardest to bear in his life.

Gavin in his short period of freedom writes a letter to MC. He ponders about what to say, thinking about their first encounter, and how she started to distance herself from him. But all he writes is-  

“Saturday 9am, I will be at the school library waiting for you.

-Gavin.”

-

MC attends the flag-raising ceremony and rehearses her speech. She then leaves to study for her exams. 

Meanwhile, Gavin finishes a fight with other boys from school in an alley after they talk inappropriately about MC. [Old Days Date]

Gavin, bloodied and bruised, asks Minor to make another copy of his letter. 

This is the only thing that Gavin had asked Minor to do so of course, he agreed. [Chapter 7-11]

Minor thinks the letter is a symbol of passion and fierce love due to the bloodstains and decides to keep the original. 

He writes “GAVIN” and places it on MC’s desk for her to see the next day. 

(In the Campus Date, the older MC is the one who finds him instead of Minor and treats him to his injuries. She ends up seeing the contents of the letter to find him later on.)

MC mistakes the letter as a threat and throws it away. 

That Weekend

Gavin sits for 14 hours in the library waiting for MC, scanning the library every now and then.

With a fingertip, he rubs “Byron’s Poetry Collection” and carefully sandwiches a dried and yellowed ginkgo leaf into the book. He suddenly felt a measure of self-deprecation.

He stands up, and leaves, his heart filled with regret that he didn’t give it to her personally. [CN Tilted Time Rumours and Secrets]

After Summer Break- July 

Minor never saw Gavin, and neither did MC. 

“We met often, but never passed by each other. I remember every moment I saw you in school. Time, location, weather, your expression, your clothes...

-I remember them all.”

[writinglizards]

someone wanted us to kiss for a picture and i thought you were gonna stage kiss me w/ your thumbs in the middle buT NO OH MY GOD THATS……………..THATS A REAL KISS WOW OK au -- another writing prompt I lost the link to 💖

Okay, so this got WAY out of hand, but here you go! <3

Title: A Portrait of the Artist in Love

Summary:  Jaskier's senior exhibition requires he present a sequence of cohesive photos representing a theme of his choosing. Geralt, after seeing the photos in person, notices one's missing.

Read on Ao3

"So what's the matter?" Geralt finally asks when Jaskier stomps through the living room for the third time in under twenty minutes, his eyes still firmly trained on the tv set. He can't look like he cares too much or Jaskier will shut down on him, he knows.

"What's the matter is I've got my senior exhibition in two months and I still haven't settled on a fucking theme, that's the matter," he bites out, back to the sofa and hands threaded firmly through his hair, tugging hard.

Geralt sighs. All of Jaskier's problems seem to circle back to his senior exhibition. "I thought you had some photos?"

"I did," he says, tone venomous, "and then Valdo decided he was going to do a series on music and I refuse to compete with that pompous arse." Geralt bites his tongue against the 'why does what Valdo's doing matter?' He knows better.

"So? What are your ideas?" Jaskier shifts as if to speak, "and don't tell me you don't have any, I know you do." He clicks the tv off and shifts around to face Jaskier's back as he sighs, shoulders going slack.

"I want to do something personal," he says, and Geralt can hear the frustration in his voice, "something important. Not--" he can picture the way his face is scrunched up just from his tone, "--not something predictable, something trite. I want to do something meaningful."

"Okay. So make it personal. What's important to you, Jaskier?" he asks, voice soft, and watches as Jaskier's shoulders gradually go taunt again.

"Oh. Oh I could--" he cuts off, whirls around, and the nearly manic light in his eyes makes Geralt smile.

"There you go," he says, and Jaskier beams. The look on his face steals Geralt’s breath, tightens his chest. Jaskier crosses the room, headed for his bedroom slash photo studio and presumably his camera, but he pauses at the couch to squeeze Geralt's shoulder tightly.

"Thank you, darling." Geralt just rolls his eyes and clicks the tv back on.

* * * *

Jaskier never does share what idea he settled on, even after Geralt had asked, a few days later. He'd ducked his head, blushing, and told Geralt not to worry about it, it was fine, he'd get to see when it was done, and Geralt had let it go. Jaskier tends to hold his projects close to his chest until he's done with them anyway. It’s not personal.

They're seated at a cafe waiting for Yen to drop off Ciri for their afternoon trip to the zoo and Jaskier is, predicably, fiddling with his camera.

"Do you have to bring that everywhere?" he asks, tone light and teasing, and Jaskier only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Yes, you oaf, I do. I'm working," he snips, and then he lifts the camera and in a quick movement snaps a picture of Geralt's face.

"Jaskier."

"Just a test photo, love," he grins, not at all apologetic. Before Geralt can pitch anything close to a fit about Jaskier taking more photos of him (and out in public, no less), Yen and Ciri are stepping through the door. Ciri gives a delighted little shriek the way only children under five seem to do and throws herself at her father. Geralt catches her around the waist and hauls her into his lap, both of them laughing, and the photo is promptly forgotten about after that.

* * * *

"Can I come with you?"

"Why?" Geralt asks again, frowning at Jaskier where he stands next to their couch, shifting nervously with his camera clutched to his chest, "you don't like the barn."

"No, but I like Roach," he insists, "and I want to get some pictures of her. I haven't in a while." Geralt narrows his eyes.

"Is this about your project?" he asks, and the way Jaskier splutters is answer enough.

"Can't I just want to take nice photos of my best friend's lovely horse? Come on Geralt, I don't always have a reason." The color high on his cheeks says otherwise.

"Hm." He hefts his supply bag over his shoulder, "come on, then."

Jaskier practically beams the entire trip to the barn, even after he nearly slips in a spot of mud when they get there. His pure, simple joy is infectious, leaves Geralt grinning right alongside him. And if Jaskier takes pictures of him the entire time? Well, he's always taking pictures anyway.

* * * *

"Jask, my guy, must you always bring that stupid camera?" Lambert asks, "it's beer night," he says, as if beer should preclude Jaskier taking pictures.

"Yes, and? Your point?" He raises the camera to snap a blatant picture of Lambert. Aiden leans over to throw up a pair of bunny ears behind his boyfriend as if they're primary schoolers. Eskel laughs.

"Jaskier's exhibition's coming up, leave off," Geralt growls, reprimanding, and Jaskier grins all the brighter.

"Yes, thank you, darling!"

"Doesn't mean he needs to take pictures of us," Lambert grouches, but Aiden wraps his arm around his neck and pulls him into a gentle headlock.

"Be nice," Aiden admonishes, and Lambert grumbles, but subsides. After enough alcohol, no one really thinks about Jaskier's pictures.

* * * *

Catching Jaskier around their apartment snapping photos isn't strictly unusual. It's not even strictly unusual for Jaskier to be snapping photos of him, but--

"Must you take pictures while I'm trying to meditate?"

"Yeah," Jaskier answers, sunny and quick. Geralt gives a huff. The camera clicks again. "Just pretend I'm not here." Geralt hums an affirmative even though he knows it's an impossible task. He could never forget Jaskier was in a room with him.

* * * *

"Didn't know you were picking me up today," Geralt says, wandering over from his post by the medieval art exhibit to where Jaskier stands near the circulation desk, fiddling with his camera.

"Oh, well, you know," he grins brightly up at him, cheeks a little pink--maybe he's getting sick, "I was in the area and thought we could walk home together. I know you’ve got a little still but I can swing by Starbucks; I'll get you that fruity tea you like."

"Hm."

When he gets off his shift forty-five minutes later, Jaskier's waiting for him out front with the Starbucks already in hand, a radiant smile on his face, and Geralt’s chest clenches just looking at him.

* * * *

"Hey, so I know you're busy--" Jaskier starts over dinner one night, eyes focused down on his pasta, "and I don't know if you wanted to come or not, but the exhibition's next week and I--" he sneaks a glance up at Geralt from under his eyelashes, ducks his head, "--I'd like for you to be there."

Geralt can't help the smile that tugs at his lips, can't help the way affection swells in his chest. "Of course I'll go, Jask." It really is as simple as that.

* * * *

Geralt arrives in the midst of the opening hubbub. He knows Jaskier has to linger around his exhibit for at least the first hour or so and from what he understands it's tucked away somewhere toward the back, so Geralt takes a leisurely path in that general direction, stopping to look at the work Jaskier's classmates have done as he goes.

"Oh, Geralt!" Valdo's grinning as he waves him over and reluctantly he lets himself be lured in. "Good to see you here, my man. Jaskier's been a basketcase all day," he winks. Geralt rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure. Your work's good," he says, nodding back towards the row of photos behind them, all different instruments either alone or being played, the close up of hands on strings and keys.

"Don't let Jask hear you say that," he laughs, even as he preens at the praise. "And don't let him catch you over here, either. He'll be accusing infidelity in a heartbeat." Valdo winks again. Geralt doesn't even go to the effort of correcting the fact they're not together. Valdo never seems to remember anyway.

"Yeah. Have a good night, Valdo," he says before ducking out of the way of a shorter blonde woman who throws herself past him and into Valdo's arms, proclaiming her love for him and his photography. Another blonde follows behind her friend, smiling. Geralt hurries away before Priscilla and Essi can realize who Valdo had been talking to and rope him back into the conversation.

It's not that he dislikes Jaskier's friends it's just...they seem to assume things about the two of them. Yes, Geralt loves Jaskier, but Jaskier…he doesn’t know what Jaskier feels for him beyond a deep friendship.

He wanders a bit while he tries not to think about that, stopping to look at some of the other photos--landscapes, pets, significant others, children--until he spots Jaskier, all done up in the suit he'd picked out for the occasion months ago, the gold tie that Geralt had done for him this morning a beautiful contrast to the baby blue of his suit. And the pictures--

Geralt's breath catches. They're all of him; a photo of Geralt and Ciri from the zoo, Ciri seated on his shoulders, one tiny fist in his hair as she gestures wildly at the monkeys. Geralt astride Roach as he puts her through her paces at the barn, and later, Roach out in the pasture, Geralt leading her in a gentle cool down, the both of them in profile. Geralt and his brothers over beers, Geralt grinning, Eskel telling a story, hands spread wide, Lambert and Aiden leaning on each other across the table, smiles indulgent. Geralt meditating in their living room, the ghost of a smile on his face. Geralt at the museum, explaining the history of medieval art to a gaggle of tourists.

They're all him.

"Oh, thank fuck, Geralt, I--" Jaskier breaks off as he gets closer, takes in Geralt's expression, "Geralt?"

His mouth is dry and he has to clear his throat twice before he can get any words to work. "They're all of...me?" Jaskier flushes immediately.

"Well I mean--yes? I wanted it to be something important and personal and, uh, what's more personal than everything my best friend loves?" he explains rapidly, as if he's worried Geralt will cut him off, not let him explain.

"Oh," he says, because it's the only thing he can get out. And then as it dawns on him, "wait, if this is about--" he has to clear his throat again, uncharacteristically embarrassed, "--about what I love...why aren't you in any of them?"

"What, I--" Jaskier chokes off, that flush going a little darker, "I, I didn't--we weren't allowed to be the subjects of our own photos," he lies, and Geralt just raises a brow. He's seen his classmate's work--he knows it's a bullshit answer and Jaskier knows he knows.

"I didn't want to presume," he mumbles, then, a little firmer, "and it would have had to been staged. "I don't--staged photos are terrible, Geralt, you know how I feel about that." He does, but it doesn't change the fact Jaskier's collection is incomplete without him.

"Hm."

* * * *

He thinks about it for the rest of the exhibition and once he starts, it's like he can't stop. Jaskier has a collection of photos of things Geralt loves, and Jaskier's not in any of them.

It takes him almost a week to set it right.

"Geralt," Jaskier calls as the front door clicks open, Jaskier home from class. "Geralt darling, I'm famished, what--" he cuts off abruptly when he steps into the living room, gaze catching on the camera set on the tripod set up on the coffee table. Geralt stands in front of the lens, between the camera and the large bay window overlooking the distant park.

"Jaskier." Geralt's a little bit of a nervous wreck about it, but it's fine. Probably. After all, Jaskier spent months taking photos of Geralt and the things he loved. What's one more?

"Geralt, what--"

"Come here." Jaskier swallows roughly, adams apple bobbing, before he puts his bag down and steps up beside him. "Check the camera," Geralt says softly, "make sure I did it right."

Jaskier does, quick. "It's set on the ten second timer. Should I--?"

"Yeah," he says, stomach clenching in some horrible mix of fear and anticipation, "and come here."

"Geralt, if you'd wanted to take a picture together, I could have--" he says, setting the camera and starting over. He cuts off abruptly when Geralt loops an arm around his waist and tugs him in close until they're chest to chest, his other hand at Jaskier's jaw, thumb sweeping back and forth across his cheek.

"I know," he says, voice pitched low, "but you're missing a picture." And then he dips his head and kisses him.

Jaskier makes a small, wounded noise and then his arms are around Geralt's neck, fingers tight in his hair as he presses up into Geralt's grip, surges against him. Geralt cups his jaw and nips at his lower lip, revels in the quiet gasp that leaves Jaskier open for him to lick into his mouth, deepen the kiss. Distantly he's aware of the camera going off, but it's inconsequential to the way Jaskier feels in his arms.

The kiss only breaks when Jaskier pulls away to hide his face in Geralt's throat, gasping for air. Geralt chuckles, a little breathless.

"Now I'm not complaining," Jaskier says, sounding a little dazed, "but what did I do to deserve that? Because I'd like to keep doing it. Repeatedly, if possible." Geralt laughs.

"You were missing a picture," Geralt says again, and the look on Jaskier's face when he pulls back is so confused it makes his chest constrict. "The things I love," Geralt reminds, and Jaskier flushes bright red.

"Geralt--" he stammers out, flustered, before he returns to hiding his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Melitele help me," He presses his lips to the fabric of Geralt's shirt, a warm, fleeting pressure, "you really are going to be the death of me."

"Don't see how," he hums, tips his head to rest his cheek against Jaskier's head.

"Thought you wanted a friendly picture and then you just--! You just wrapped your arm around my waist like you've done it a hundred times before and I thought, oh, he's going to pretend to kiss me, for the photo, because of course you would and you, you just--" he makes a tiny, outraged noise. Geralt chuckles again. "Don't laugh at me, Geralt, I almost died."

"Mmhm," he rubs his cheek where it rests, mussing Jaskier's hair. Jaskier just huffs. "How'd the picture come out?"

Reluctantly, Jaskier peels himself away to check the photo, and Geralt can already tell from the face he's making it didn't come out well. "You moved," Jaskier admonishes, eyes glued to the tiny viewer. He fiddles with a few settings before putting it back down on the tripod. "Alright," he presses his way back into Geralt's arms, "we'll just have to try again."

"Yeah," Geralt grins, and he kisses him again.

[inkykeiji]

babyyy💕 i need to know!! do the characters in bmb AU have social media?? does reader post her lavish gifts and expensive trips online?? does tomura show off his bby in his ig? or are they concerned abt their safety? does dabi spend hours on his phone going over reader’s pics? is daddy tomura controlling over what the reader posts? UGH THE ANGST POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS😭💕💕

love you lots, stay safe💕💕💕

honestly anon this is such a brilliant question oh my god

tomura is not an instagram—or social media—type. he doesn’t understand the point and, quite frankly, he thinks it’s a total waste of time. he has more important, more interesting things to be doing than mindlessly scrolling through social media feeds. he limits his princess’s time on social media as well, claiming it’ll rot her brain if she spends too long on there. admittedly, he does think it’s really fucking cute, the way she gets so excited to post all the pretty presents and splendid trips and ornate dinners he spoils her with, but he definitely does need to approve every single post, and even masquerades as an anonymous follower, just so he can keep tabs on her (and yes, he has her notifications on).  

despite his great fashion sense and keen aesthetic, dabi’s social media feeds/timelines are a total mess. they’re a combination of kitten videos, dudes wiping out during extreme sports (snowboarding and skateboarding in particular), and good looking people. originally, he was really just on there to kill time when he was bored, only using it for a quick laugh and rarely spending more than an hour or so total on any given app for the day. if he’s being honest, he still doesn’t understand the point of a ‘theme/concept’ or brand for your social media, and he actually didn’t post to his accounts until he started hanging out with reader (before this he had no desire to post shit esp when he has no friends on there anyway and is cautious about safety). but then, one afternoon while they were lounging around lazily in the sun, she asked, soft and shy with excitement toying with the corners of her lips, if he had an instagram and if she could follow it. and suddenly, he felt like posting more. it felt like a way to communicate the feelings he so desperately couldn’t put into words, sharing certain songs that said it all so much better than he ever could on his stories, or giving her a glimpse into who he his, into his mind and his life, by posting about his favourite sci-if novels and films, knowing that they’d spark the start of a conversation the next time he saw her. eventually, social media becomes a way for him to document the time he spends with her, snapping photos and filming cute videos, all under the guise of it merely being ‘instagram content’. but truthfully, he really likes collecting these memories, and he keeps them all safe and sound in a cherished folder hidden deep within the recesses of his phone. he definitely always gets giddy when she posts something with him in it, or something that is clearly an inside joke between the two of them, even tho he'd never admit it <3

reader loves social media and has a solidly curated feed. it’s one of her hobbies, more or less; she genuinely enjoys taking the time to carefully craft it all together, from setting up the photographs to editing the pictures to arranging her posts in an aesthetically pleasing way. she definitely does delight in showing off the gorgeous gifts her Daddy buys her and, thanks to the luxurious and expensive content and her decent photography skills, she has a fairly large following. being fawned over by complete strangers is such an ego boost, and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t receive a little jolt of pride with each ‘luckyyyyy :(’ and every ‘you’re so pretty!’ comment. however, like dabi, she also thinks of her instagram as a place to chronicle her life; a place where sentimental memories and special moments are preserved forever <3