#I was apparently playing this game for the first time six years ago and so I was reminded of this lol

[blackchantilly]

Adding this to my sex playlist, right next to that Hudson Mohawke song.

[thornypucks]

peppermint mocha | lena oberdorf

synopsis any excuse to get your girlfriend to kiss you was a good one

warnings literally just fluffy fluff

words 1737

notes this was supposed to go up on christmas but then i got sick so you get it on new years instead :) also shoutout to @alphaniner1415 - this is kind of part two <3

It was cold. Way too fucking cold. The hand you had wrapped around your paper coffee cup was at least a little warm from the contents inside, but the one holding onto the mistletoe felt like it was about to fall off at any second. On top of that it had started drizzling a couple of minutes ago, because it was cold but apparently not cold enough for snow, the wind was blowing your hair in every direction and your jacket felt too tight with the big sweater you were wearing underneath. So shortly- you were overstimulated, tired from a long day of work and just really fucking cold.

But in that second you rounded the corner and Lenas apartment came into view, the sight so familiar it made you ache. The past year had been good. Incredible even. Getting to really know Lena, not only as a friend but as a girlfriend had been the best journey you've ever got on. You loved going to her games and hearing her rant about plays and games for hours. You hated when she had to leave for games and tournaments or when she came home, defeated in every sense of the word. You enjoyed the quiet nights in her apartment and the loud ones when her teammates and friends joined. You despised the first argument you had that simply boiled down to you being scared of being too much and Lena wanting as much of you as she could get. You took pleasure in her showing up at the cafe just to spend time with you and have a cappuccino and you almost lost your mind when Lena crumbled on the field after literally budding heads with another player. You were delighted to meet her family and getting to know her parents, sibling, aunts, uncles and most importantly her dog. And above everything else you were so comfortable in this little bubble that Lena had wrapped around the both of you. You had never been so in love nor felt so loved by somebody. Lena wasn't shy of straight up telling you how she felt. Never. But she also showed you. When she took off her scarf to wrap it around you, when she planned a picnic on her balcony because she thought you would like it, when she brought you flowers and when she mapped out your whole body with her hands and her mouth, determined to touch every inch of you.

You felt yourself heat up at the thought as you finally reached the front door. You fumbled with the pocket of your jacket, not wanting to put down the cup, nor the branch in order to get your key out. Lena had given it to you only two months after the first night spent together. It had been quiet but bold, like everything she did. She had just slipped the lonely key over the table during breakfast, a big smile spreading across her face. Your reaction had been a lot less quiet and had included a lot more body contact. You had not officially moved in, but measured by the time you spend in her apartment, you might as well have. But that was a conversation for a different day. You finally managed to get your key out and unlocked the door. You quickly made your way up the stairs - rushed by your plans for tonight and the cold that was still creeping up your fingers. You finally unlocked the second door, moaning at the warm air of the apartment. Around six months of dating you realized that Lena's place had really started to feel like home. More and more of your things had slowly made their way into the apartment. It started mostly with clothes and toiletries, quickly moving to mugs, books, games and literally anything else. Then you started buying stuff for her place. Decor and pans and what else you could think of. Your apartment had turned into more of an office space and you were silently waiting for Lena to ask you to move in. You put down your cup on the shoe cupboard and carefully laid the mistletoe branch on the ground. You could now finally get rid of the too tight jacket, your hat and scarf and finally your shoes, putting everything where it belonged before picking up your cup and the branch again.

The plan had come to you kind of randomly. A week ago you had walked past a little Christmas market booth that was selling mistletoe. The tradition of having to kiss underneath one had always been a little weird to you, but any excuse to get your girlfriend to kiss you and to be a little cheesy was a good one. You'd also purchased some fairy lights, candles and you've brought home some of Lena's favorite foods from the cafe and the Munich Christmas market. So you got to work.

You spread out all the food on the couch table, putting candles in between the plates and in various other places in the apartment. You wrapped fairy lights around one of your windows and the doorway leading into the open living space. That's also where you hang the mistletoe. Your phone chimed just as you were done hanging the branch, lighting up with a message from Lena.

"Just finished training. Gonna be home soon. Love u."

Your face spread into a smile. You finished the rest of your coffee that had gone cold by now and slowly started lighting all the candles. Once you were done with that you plugged in the fairy lights and turned off the rest of the normal lights. The room looked like Christmas had just thrown up in it. It was perfect. But now you didn't really know what to do with yourself. You were too excited to just sit down and wait so you made your way over to the kitchen to clean some pans and other stuff lying around. You tried hard to occupy yourself until you finally heard the key turn in the lock. You very quickly made your way to the doorway, positioning yourself right underneath the mistletoe.

The door opened and Lena stopped in the doorway looking at you surprised and slightly confused. She was cuddled up in her big winter jacket, beanie on her head, big workout bag in her hand and her comfy joggers on. Her mouth was slightly agape, her eyes tracing your body before finally moving up to the mistletoe above you. The confused look on her face quickly changed into a still surprised but happier smirk. "Hello to you too." She smiled and finally stepped in, closing the door behind her. "Hi my love." You just grinned back waiting more or less patiently for her to take off her jacket and put down her bag. You were rocking back and forth on your feet, watching her every move.

She had finally put her shoes away and took a couple of steps towards you before stopping right in front of you, her face spreading in fake surprise. "Oh would you look at that." Her right pointer finger came up to your chin, gently pushing it upwards so you could look at the mistletoe. "A mistletoe, what a lovely coincidence." Your own smile spread as well and you moved your eyes from the greenery back to her. Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief and you soaked up every second of it. So far you had loved all the versions you had seen of Lena. But her silly and teasing side was definitely in your top five. "Oh no." She now almost whispered dramatically, her face coming even closer to yours until she could gently nudge your nose with hers. "Guess I have to kiss you now." You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you before she pressed her mouth onto yours. You hummed, satisfied, into the kiss, enjoying the warm press of her lips on yours. She licked your lips, gently coaxing you to open your mouth. You buried your hands in her sweater around her hips while hers went up to cradle your chin, her thumb drawing small circles into your jaw.

She gently broke the kiss, still holding you close. "We should leave the mistletoe here I think." You said after you managed to catch your breath. "Lena just smiled and nodded before she started smacking her lips. "You taste good. What is that?" You giggled and pressed another short peck onto her lips. "Peppermint mocha. I ordered some new syrups and they came in the mail today." You barely had time to catch the mischievous glint in Lena's eyes before she suddenly tipped you back, making you squeak and clawing your hands deeper into her sweater. She had moved one hand to your back and the other to the back of your head holding you almost horizontal. She pressed her mouth back onto yours, her tongue finding yours immediately. You couldn't help but giggle into her mouth as she slowly pulled you back up again. You separated, just smiling at each other for a minute. Lena removed the hand from the back of your head and gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you for the surprise babe." She smiled. "Mhm well that's not all of it." You smiled back, taking a couple of steps back and taking her with you. You watched Lena's face as she took in the room. Her eyes wandered from the candles to the fairy lights and then to the food before making their way back to you. "Oh baby that's beautiful." Her arms now wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush to hers before burying her head in the crook of your neck pressing a kiss into the soft skin. "Thank you my love." You just hummed in acknowledgement while also wrapping your arms tighter around her waist. You stayed like this for a while before Lena raised her head again and captured your lips in another slow but intense kiss. The world tuned out around you and the only thing left was Lena.

"You really do taste good." Lena pressed yet another kiss onto your lips, stealing your breath. "You're gonna have to make me one of those peppermint mochas soon my love."

[solarmorrigan]

Bats, and What to Do With Them

For the @steddie-spooktober day 14 prompt: Bats Rated: T | Words: 756 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, Steve Harrington has absent parents, at the very least, Steve Harrington deserves nice things, and Eddie will give them to him Divider credit: @saradika

The first time Steve holds a bat, he is four years old, and his dad has signed him up for tee ball.

To be perfectly honest, Steve isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. It’s bright, there are a lot of other kids milling around, everyone seems to be shouting about something, and Steve is apparently supposed to be doing something with the bat in his hands.

When he finally does figure it out—when he hits the ball and it actually goes somewhere—his dad whoops from his spot in the crowd, and Steve glows. His dad isn’t around much, doesn’t have much time to play with Steve, but he’s here now, and Steve wants to make him to stick around. He runs when they tell him, and hits the ball when he’s supposed to, and he does his best to make his dad proud.

Tee ball becomes Little League, becomes the Hawkins Middle School team, becomes junior varsity in high school, but by the time he’s sixteen, Steve has given up on baseball. His dad had stopped coming to his games a long time ago, and Steve’s realized it will take a lot more than hitting a ball to make his dad proud.

Still, the feel of a bat is familiar in his hands when he swipes it up off the floor of the Byers’ living room. The weight is a little different, a little off-kilter with all the nails hammered into it, but Steve can adapt. He’s hit smaller targets than the thing he’s aiming for, but it’s never mattered as much that he lands a swing as it does right now.

He doesn’t even have to think about it; muscle memory takes over as he winds up, aims for the flower-petal head full of teeth that’s about to kill his friends, and swings for the fucking fences.

Later, even though the bat had been Nancy’s, and it had been Jonathan who’d filled the thing with nails, it stays in Steve’s possession. They both think that it’s best in his hands, and Steve doesn’t disagree. It comes in handy, after all, less than a year later when Dustin comes barreling into his life, bringing demodogs in his wake.

And a couple of years after that, when Steve actually has a moment to consider it, he almost wants to laugh. He’d had a bat in his hands again, and he hadn’t even had to think; he’d simply gathered all his strength and swung.

The fact that the bat had been a monster, rather than of the baseball variety, had apparently been irrelevant. Steve is well-trained by now; he knows what to do with bats.

At least, he’d thought he did.

But now, there’s a bat sitting on his pillow, and he’s at a loss.

It’s purple and black and fuzzy and stuffed – a little plush toy. Steve picks it up carefully, looking it over, and it looks back through green plastic eyes, giving Steve a little fang-toothed smile.

“Hey, Steve, have you– oh, you found him,” Eddie says, walking into the bedroom breaking into a grin has he finds Steve standing by the bed, still staring down at the bat.

“Yeah.” Steve says, looking up at Eddie with furrowed brows. “What’s it doing on my pillow, though?”

“He’s for you. Obviously,” Eddie teases. “Saw him at the store and it made me think of you, so I brought him home.”

This is clearing absolutely nothing up for Steve. “Why would this make you think of me?”

“Well,” Eddie says slowly, coming up beside Steve to sling an arm around his waist and pull him close, “you’re the man who handles the bats, right? So: a bat. For you. I thought he was cute.”

It is cute. Steve likes it, but he feels like maybe he shouldn’t. He hasn’t had a stuffed animal since he was maybe six or seven, when his dad had said that he was too old for them.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Steve asks, the toy still cupped carefully between his palms.

“Hold him. Cherish him. Raise him as your own,” Eddie says, holding an entirely straight face for about five seconds before he’s smiling again, teasing Steve. “It’s a plushie, Steve, you don’t have to do anything with it. Just… enjoy having it.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

It’s a bat. Just for him to have. Something soft and sweet with no expectations attached.

And Steve guesses he can learn something new, when it comes to dealing with bats.

[artydonsgf]

Hey love💕 could u do an arthusband! fic??

hi sweets! i’m in the process of writing husband art but i didn’t wanna keep you waiting so i wrote out a headcanon list! i also included a small nsfw portion for my own delusional giggles, enjoy~

Art Donaldson as your Husband

- when yall start dating, it’s apparent that you’re his first real girlfriend

- he’s fooled around with people before but the eagerness of his kisses and how quickly your touch sends him over the edge makes it clear it was never serious

- you like it though, it’s cute how embarrassed he gets when you stare at him and call him handsome

- amazing bf, top tier communicator

- you discover early one that art does not play about you so he really tries his best to avoid any arguments that aren’t constructive

- extremely gooey and tells you that he wants to marry you in the future like a week into your relationship

- despite how good of a communicator he is, he also gets in his head very easily

- constantly worried that he’s somehow not enough for you and you’ll find someone better

- these worries die down pretty quickly but it sits in the back of his mind sometimes

- said i love you first and he said it after 6 months

- he later told you that he knew after a month but didn’t want to scare you away

- after a year of dating, he gives you a promise ring and swears that he’ll propose to you the moment you guys graduate

- two years in, you guys move in together

- six months later and true to his word, he gives you his grandmother’s ring while you’re both still in your caps and gowns

- the wedding happens quickly since neither of you wanted something big

- your wedding day is the best day of his life, something he tells you a million times throughout the day

- he cried like a baby when you walked down the aisle

- in all of your wedding photos, he’s looking at you like you are the center of the universe

- art settles into married life with ease

- in his mind, you guys have already been married since the moment you agreed to be his girlfriend

- sharing a last name with you is the best thing ever in his mind

- sometimes he’ll call you mrs donaldson just to hear you respond to it

- laughs into his hand when you respond but you already realized what he was doing forever ago

- a true romantic

- leaves flowers and other cute trinkets at your bedside table when he comes home from traveling for games

- he’ll be dead asleep beside you but you’ll always find a small bouquet, breakfast, and a souvenir from whatever town he passed through

- constantly thinks about you

- facetime warrior, he will call you at any time just to hear your voice

- if he’s lucky and you’re able to come with him to games, he spends any spare time curled up in your arms and ask you to just speak

- loves it when you run a hand through his hair, he’ll twist himself into an uncomfortable position if it means you’ll keep scratching his head

- the annoying guy who mentions his wife at any given moment

- “ah yes, my WIFE, also enjoys hiking”

- his idea of a date is dinner and cuddling the whole night

- seems to forget that he can kiss you whenever because he always asks if he can kiss you

- needs you like he needs air, bro is insane about you

- patrick knew about you before he even met you because art spoke about the beautiful girl with the kind eyes and sweet smile for a month before he actually asked you out

- bro was yearning like crazy

- his biggest issue is his jealousy

- starts plotting murder whenever a man speaks to you for too long

- or woman, he’s equal opportunity jealous

- ofc he doesn’t have to worry because you’re always quick to flash your ring and name drop him as your husband in convos

- he’s a very good husband who loves you an insane amount and makes sure to communicate that to you 24/7

NSFW

- legit will do anything you ask of him, so he’s very into experimenting

- your pleasure > his every time

- he enjoys oral but doesn’t really ask for it since he’d prefer to give

- submissive by nature and is happy to let you take charge

- only really dominant after a particularly tough day on the courts

- aftercare KING, he’ll get you cleaned up in two seconds flat so he can keep you in his arms for the rest of the night

- very needy in bed, he wants your constant attention

- total praise kink, he can hardly breathe when you tell him he’s doing a good job

- he had to learn how to control his pace because he used to come immediately

- despite his quickness at finishing, he has insane stamina and will keep you up the whole night

- it’s always you >>> any of his obligations

- more times than you can count, you’ve had to pry him off of you because he had important things to do the next day

- loves quickies

- likes it when you pull his hair

[goodqueenaly]

Revisiting Catelyn's chapter, and I've been finding the way that she reflects on her childhood in Riverrun (and while *at* Riverrun, watching over her dying father) rather interesting, in particular her relationship with Brandon. When Jaime speaks to her about his death, and she begins to tell him of how Brandon was on his way to Riverrun when he heard about Lyanna, she notes that "telling it still made her throat grow tight, after all these years." And later, after Jeyne comes to her for advice, we have this passage -- “Tell me what I should do. Catelyn might have asked the same, if her father had been well enough to ask. But Lord Hoster was gone, or near enough. Her Ned as well. Bran and Rickon too, and Mother, and Brandon so long ago. Only Robb remained to her, Robb and the fading hope of her daughters” -- where she counts Brandon as one of the people lost to her, along her mother, and children, and Ned.

What level of depth of feeling, of emotion do you think there was between Brandon and Catelyn during their betrothal (speaking from Catelyn's end of things)? I find these passages a bit curious and they seem to hint to me love, though her POVs also don't quite give us glimpses of any sort of emotional or physical intimacy between them (by physical I mean even something at the level of the kissing games she played with Lysa and Petyr)?

Thank you for taking the time to share your insights with us!

Catelyn was betrothed to Brandon for around five or six years during a significant portion of her young life. As the dutiful daughter of a House whose devotion to duty is literally reflected in its dynastic motto, Catelyn was raised even at 12 to “[thank] him [i.e. her father Hoster] for making her such a splendid match” when this betrothal occurred. While I doubt Catelyn and Brandon met very frequently during their betrothal period, his apparent companionship with Jeffory Mallister may suggest that Brandon traveled in the Riverlands in the years before his death, and consequently spent some time with his fiancée during this time; I doubt Brandon and Catelyn would have been left unchaperoned or allowed to engage in any remotely indecorous conduct, to be sure but these may have been opportunities for the two of them to exchange some courtly pleasantries. Brandon was also personally good-looking, wild in both rage and mirth in a way the young Catelyn clearly found attractive. 

Given all that, I’m not surprised that Catelyn would have developed some level of romantic feelings toward Brandon, and would have held onto those feelings for the rest of her life. Brandon had been her politico-dynastic destiny from the age of 12 until roughly about the age of 17 or 18, a man she had been encouraged to love as her future lord husband. Moreover, to Catelyn, Brandon may have seemed quite the catch - the handsome, dashing young knight or de facto knight, heir to a great castle and title, who dueled in her name for the honor of her hand. With Brandon dying young and tragically from Aerys II’s tyranny, Catelyn never had the chance to become disillusioned with Brandon’s infidelity (and almost certainly never knew of his sexual relationship with Barbrey or his potential bastards), or to have to manage his emotionality day to day; Brandon could remain idealized in Catelyn's mind as her first fiancé and love. 

Which is not to say, of course, that Catelyn never loved Ned. If neither Catelyn nor Ned had been raised to anticipate marrying the other, both understood the politico-military necessity of doing so during Robert’s Rebellion; more importantly, each also came to understand, appreciate, and ultimately love the other on a deeply personal level. Catelyn might have always remembered Brandon, but Ned was "her Ned", her husband, "the man I loved, the father of my children".

[fyonahmacnally]

Watching Her

Kara stares at the blank screen in front of her. She’s been sitting at her dining room table for what feels like days. She needs to be writing her article, but it seems her brain has other plans. Instead, she’s trying to string together the words that have plagued her mind for months. Well, plaguing her for years really, if she’s being honest. 

Plus, lately there’s this urgent need to explain to her raven haired goddess of a best friend how much she means to the hero. Every time Kara thinks she can speak it aloud, the words get stuck in her throat. So, she thought she’d write them instead. Apparently that’s not working either since she’s been staring at her screen for Rao knows how long. No article and no words for Lena. She’s come up short either way. Since the genius woman left for Newfoundland a few days ago, the blonde hasn’t been able to think of much else. 

Just Lena. Always Lena.

Her time in the Phantom Zone was wrought with the fear of never seeing those mesmerizing bi-colored eyes or touching soft porcelain skin again. Their relationship has weathered storms most married couples haven’t faced. A sentiment that forces her thoughts down a path she’s skillfully avoided for years. Kara knows they reconciled and have swapped both apologies and forgiveness, but she’s still not sure where they stand. What they are. Friends? Yes, but there’s always been more. Unfortunately, dealing with the madness surrounding Lex and Nyxly hasn’t given them much time to sort through things. To truly talk.

There are countless things Kara wants to say. While in the Phantom Zone, she relived almost every moment of her relationship with Lena. The worst of things played out before her on most occasions, but the visions also allowed her subconscious to say things she’s always been too cowardly to say. As much as being there sucked, it also gave her insight into how much is still unsaid between them. Insight into where her true home lies. Who is her perfect partner at game night. 

It’s Lena. It has always been Lena.

She shakes her head with a sigh. The cursor on her screen mocks her. This is what happens every time she tries to put words on the page. Her thoughts instantly drift to Lena and all the words she’s choked back or refused to speak. Then a smile drifts across her lips, thoughts of how close she came to kissing the raven haired goddess. Right there in the middle of the tower when she first greeted Lena. If it hadn’t been for Alex and everyone else in the room, she might have. 

No, she’s sure she would have.

“Rao, stop it Kara!” She mutters to herself, slapping her forehead to punctuate her point. “You have an article to write. Even if it is a fluff piece for Andrea.”

Rolling her eyes at the thought of her boss, she straightens her spine, stretches her arms in front of her, shakes them out, and settles back in to write. 

A few hours later, Kara realizes she’s been writing a stream of consciousness. Her once blank document is filled with words. It’s great that she was able to get so many words on the page, but it’s absolutely, 100% not related to the article she needs to write for her deadline. A deadline two days from now. 

Nope. 

Every single word is related to Lena. 

Kara drops her chin to her chest, blowing out a breath of frustration before sitting back in her chair and dragging her hands down her face. “Okay, I guess I should read through this mess of thoughts. Maybe it will give me something for Lena.”

As her eyes rove over the page, drinking in the words she has written, Kara feels her body grow warm. Before her, on the laptop screen, sits the words she’s been looking for. The combination of things she’s longed to share with her best friend for the better part of six years. Sure, she’s going to have to edit some things and polish it up. However, she’s confident she finally has the words she wants to share. 

Lena comes back early. Kara isn’t sure why, but her raven haired friend doesn’t seem open to talking about it. She can tell something is on Lena’s mind though. The woman’s behavior certainly derails Kara’s plan to give Lena the journal/letter she wrote. 

Just another delay. Such is the life they live. The life of a hero.

They make plans to hangout together. Kara invites Lena to her loft to catch up and eat pie. Because…pie! 

The blonde watches her, drinking in her profile. Strong, sharp jawline. Soft, pouty lips. Perfectly manicured brows, vibrant porcelain skin, and shiny ebony locks cascading down her back, a few strands hanging over her shoulder and resting on her collarbone. Lena is without a doubt the most beautiful person Kara has ever seen, across any and all planets she’s been on. This woman captivates her, steals her breath, and owns her heart. 

She must get lost in her observation because the next thing she feels is a soft hand on her forearm breaking her from her trance.

“Kara?” Lena practically whispers, squeezing the hero’s forearm. “Darling, are you okay?”

She clears her throat, her embarrassment no doubt on display across her cheeks, spreading onto her ears. “Umm, yeah. F-Fine.”

Lena cocks her head to the side, patented eyebrow raise in place. “Want to try again? I know you didn’t catch what I said because you undoubtedly would have responded.” She releases the blonde’s forearm before shifting to face her. “Now, tell me what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.”

A long, shaky sigh makes its way out of Kara’s mouth. She is unquestionably not going to admit what currently has her distracted. Which means she needs to come up with something that is close to the truth, but doesn’t force her to admit her feelings. Not yet.

“I just, well, I missed you.” She reaches up to adjust glasses that aren’t there before diverting her hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “There’s so much we have to catch up on and it’s a little surreal that you’re here. With me. Right now.” She trails off, the fading blush from a few minutes ago rushing back across her impervious skin. 

A full, gorgeous, dimpled smile spreads across Lena’s face. It’s the smile that Kara used to see all the time during their countless lunch dates and game nights. It makes her heart stutter in her chest, a sight more beautiful than Rao’s dawn on Krypton. 

“I missed you, too. We do have a lot to catch up on.” Lena winks at her before sitting her half-eaten pie on the coffee table. “Do you want me to finish what I was saying or are you ready to tell me what’s got you so distracted?”

“Y-You go ahead and finish what you were saying. We can talk about my scattered brain later.” She gives her most endearing grin, hoping it will persuade her best friend to continue.

It works. They exchange stories for the next couple of hours. Lena shares what she learned about her mother and how apparently she comes from a long line of powerful sorceresses. Kara shares the crazy things they fought and dealt with in her absence along with the plan to get rid of Lex and Nyxly for good. Another night of completely skirting her inner dialogue. 

And so it goes for several weeks afterward. They spend their time working to get rid of the worst Luthor and his psychotic fifth-dimensional girlfriend. In the aftermath of William’s death, losing Lillian, and Alex and Kelly’s wedding, Lena seems to come to terms with her magical abilities and gain confidence in her new identity as the last Luthor standing. 

The good Luthor.

While Alex and Kelly are on their honeymoon, Kara and Lena finally have the conversation both of them have been putting off. 

The two of them are curled up on opposite ends of Kara’s couch, each holding a cup of their preferred tea. They exchange shy, knowing smiles for several seconds before Lena breaks the comfortable silence.

“You know, I used to think the biggest monsters I had to fear were Lex and Lillian.” Lena softly says, running her finger along the edge of her rapidly cooling mug. “Over the past year and especially these last few months, I’ve learned we make our own monsters. We make our own monsters, then fear them for what they show us about ourselves.”

A plethora of emotions swirl in the verdant eyes that look up and connect with concerned, but affectionate blue ones. They revel in brief silence, drinking in the intimacy and vulnerability of their shared space. Two battered souls that completely understand one another in ways no one else can.

Lena takes a deep breath, sits her now cold mug on the coffee table, and pats the cushion next to her hoping Kara will slide closer. She watches as Kara places her own mug down and shuffles across the couch, planting herself close enough that Lena’s knee sits against the side of her thigh. A delicate, pale hand rests on top of a warm tan one.

Kara turns her hand to lace their fingers together, gently squeezing Lena’s in a show of comfort. “I get that, at least I think I do. We’ve both been through so much in our lives, so much trauma.” The hero sucks in a ragged breath, all the things she’s lost flashing through her mind. “We both have wounds that will never show on our bodies. Wounds that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds. But, as painful as they are, they’ve built us into who we are.”

A soft huff and a chuckle of incredulity sound beside her causing blue eyes to shift from their hands to Lena’s half-amused, half-saddened expression. “You’re not wrong, but I wish there was a better, less painful path to get here.” She rolls her eyes at the situation. “I guess part of my point in saying this about Lex and Lillian is that loving and yearning for love can be blinding. Sometimes, I think, we don’t really see how toxic someone is until we finally breathe fresher air.”

Lena lifts her free hand to gently rub soft patterns into the skin on Kara’s hand still clasped in hers. “When I was in Newfoundland, it reminded me that who I am and where I came from are only small pieces of who I want to be. Being in the fresh air, away from the Luthor name gave me a new perspective. It helped me realize some things.” 

A wistful smile spreads across her face as she pauses her ministrations on Kara’s skin. “There is a home no one can take from you, a home that will last. I think who you are, who you surround yourself with, and what you believe in is your real home. For me, that home is you, Kara.” She takes a shaky breath and makes eye contact with the blonde, hoping to convey how truly sincere she is. The raw truth in her statement.

Kara’s breath catches, her eyes glisten with tears. Lena hasn’t actually said the words she longs to hear, but it carries the same meaning. She does her best to collect her emotions and prevent the epic ramble she can sense coming. There is a journal/letter or whatever you want to call it she needs to share with Lena. So. She needs to get herself together. 

Which is hard when Lena looks so stunning. The happiness and confidence that exudes from her without Lex and Lillian looming over her, it makes her more alluring than ever. Kara’s mind constantly drifts to thoughts of ebony locks and viridian eyes.

Rao, Lena has never looked so beautiful. She’s a goddess amongst mere mortals…

She shakes her head and forces herself back to reality.

“You know, I spent a lot of time thinking about things too. While you were in Newfoundland, I mean. Well, and while I was in the Phantom Zone. Lots of time to think there.” She shakes her head, the urge to ramble growing stronger and she wants to do this right. Blowing out a breath and pulling another in, she tries to calm herself before trying again. “I’ve given a lot of thought to having a home and what it really means to me. I always see the same thing, Lena. Your face, your smile. It’s always you. I, umm, I wrote something about it while you were gone.”

Releasing their connected hands proves more difficult than she anticipated, but she manages. She pulls the folded paper from her pocket where it has been since she finished it. Her hope was the right moment would present itself and she could either let Lena read it or read it to her. Now the moment is here and she’s more nervous than her Pulitzer ceremony.

Clearing her throat, she pauses before locking eyes with her best friend and lightly shrugs. “I guess I’m not sure if you want to just read it or if you want me to read it to you. I mean, I’ll do either. Just as long as you know what it says and…” A nervous chuckle escapes and she shifts herself on the couch, turning her body toward her best friend. “What would you prefer? I’m going to be nervous and jittery regardless.”

Lena tilts her head and lifts her hand to her chin feigning thought. “Well, if you are giving me the choice, I am going to choose having you read it to me.” She pats the Kryptonian on the thigh before leaning her elbow onto the backrest of the couch, propping her head in her hand. “If I can listen to your words and hear your thoughts through your voice, I am going to choose that option every time, Kara.”

They laugh and settle into place as Kara unfolds the paper. She knows this is going to change things, she just doesn’t know how much. With one last look at the woman that holds her heart, she begins to read.

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

Watching her. It’s something I catch myself doing quite frequently. It’s not that I mean to or I do it on purpose. It just happens. She’s always captivated me. Her wit. Her brilliance. Her grace. Not to mention her eyes. Her smile. Her armor piercing eyebrow raise. There are so many things about her that reel me in.

From the first moment our eyes met, the first time my eyes connected with the deep pools of sea green, I knew she was special. Someone important. And that is the moment my world shifted.

Watching her is distracting. She moves with a sense of surety and power unlike any I’ve seen. Her intelligence is a super power very few possess, she wields it with both caution and tenacity. The desire to help others is so innate to her soul, even the sinister Luthors couldn’t break her drive to do good.

From the first time she helped save the city, I knew she was a hero. A woman worthy of respect and honor, no matter the name she was born under. That was the moment I knew we could take on the world together.

Watching her is awe inspiring. She is so willing to give, to help others, to share her inventions and love of science for the betterment of society, for the greater good of the world. She strives to help others, sometimes even at the detriment of herself.

From the moment she put herself on the line for the safety of others, I knew she was worthy of more than what so many hurl at her. Worthy of love, trust, and respect, leagues beyond what the world has given her.

Watching her is life changing. Life has so many twists and turns, nothing is guaranteed or promised. But when I see her, when I watch her teach her goddaughter new things, when I watch her toss her head back in unrestrained laughter, even when I watch tears drift down her pale cheeks…watching her is life changing.

From the moment I first held her in my arms, I knew my life was forever changed. The gift of her smile is priceless, the gift of her trust is sacred, but the gift of her love is divine.

Watching her has forever changed my life, finding her is how I found my home. --------------------------

Kara finishes reading, but is hesitant to look up. She’s not sure how Lena is going to react and doesn’t want to see rejection reflected back at her. It isn’t until she hears a soft sniffle that her head bolts up and her eyes find teary, sparkling green ones. 

Her eyes widen and she reaches out to wipe the tears away. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” The blonde grabs the box of tissues from the coffee table and hands one to Lena. “Are you okay? Do you need me to leave? I can…”

Her rambling words are halted by a soft finger pressing against her lips. She keeps her eyes on the woman the finger belongs to. The mossy pools she’s gotten lost in countless times search her oceanic ones, apparently finding what she needs.

Lena slowly removes her finger, gently lifting both hands to rest on Kara’s cheeks. She presses their foreheads together and sighs. “I guess two lost little girls finally found their home.”

Neither of them know who leaned in first. In the end, it really doesn’t matter. Not when the result is their lips pressing together and a home to call their own.

[marvelobsessed134]

Hi you ❤️ i hope it's ok to send in a request. i thought of something where the reader is working at the Avengers Compound and trains new agents, but one of them grows fond of her and like creeps up on her or follows her around all the time. Soon Bucky noticed that and decides to help. As the guy then again waits up on you and gets too close for Bucky's liking, he steps in between and kisses you passionately, making the creep leave and takes you by surprise but you continue to kiss him which continues in his bedroom and later you both finally share your feelings for each other? 🥰🙊 Hope this is okay with You.

Be my lover

How Bucky looks when someone is harassing you ⬆️

Also no smut in this I’m sorry I just thought I’d make it hurt comfort 😭

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Warnings: creepy guy, harassment, protective!bucky, hurt comfort

Ever since the new SHIELD recruits came in, things have been going south. Now most of them are very wonderful but one in particular has been bothering you. He’d been practically obsessed with you when he first saw you. Making inappropriate comments about how your suit fits or following you around the compound trying to have a conversation you clearly want no part in.

You tried to send the hint that you weren’t interested in whatever game he was playing but he was dense. And while yes, you can just tell him no, but what would he do with that? He could easily catch you off guard and hurt you. Even though you’re an Avenger you still have your weaknesses.

Bucky noticed right away something was off about you, and so he went to ask you if everything was okay when he saw the recruit trailing behind you down the hall. The soldier clenched his fists when he saw how uncomfortable you were. So he stalked towards the two of you, rage and protectiveness filling his senses.

“Hey,” he said trying to sound calm-it didn’t work-you smiled in relief when you weren’t alone anymore.

“Oh hey, you’re the Winter Soldier!” The recruit said. Bucky clenched his teeth. He absolutely hated that name. It brought back the worst memories and nightmares. Everyone knew he was the White Wolf now-the name the Wakandians gave him-everyone except the new recruit apparently.

“First of all, don’t ever call me that again unless you want to be six feet under. Second of all, don’t ever talk to, harass, or follow Y/n unless you wanna be in the depths of hell.” His voice was low and threatening and the recruit knew he didn’t stand a chance against a 6’5 super soldier. He nervously backed off until he ran down the hall.

You sighed in relief, running into Buckys arms which shocked him, but he cradled your smaller form against his, “Thank you, Bucky.”

“Of course, doll. Can’t have a weirdo following you around all day. I’ll get Steve to fire him so you won’t have to see him anymore.” You looked up at him with wide eyes, “You’d do that? Why?”

“Because I…” he almost couldn’t get the words out. Now or never, he thought to himself. “I love you, Y/n. Ever since you joined the team a year ago I’ve had my eyes set on you. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me because of who I am. What I’ve done.”

Your hand went up to touch the side of his face, “Bucky, your past doesn’t define you. You are a wonderful human being with a heart of gold. Don’t ever think of yourself like that again.”

The brunette smiled softly, “So, um. You can reject me now, it’s okay.”

You waited a moment, searching his for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on before getting on your top toes and pressing your lips to his. He was shocked at first but kissed you back, his arms wrapping tighter around you.

You pulled away with a smirk, “Does that answer your question?”

[anxiousnerdwritings]

y’all playing with the Bellatrix Lestrange meme 😂 we all know she’s taking a teaching job at Hogwarts to stay close

ain’t no way she’s gonna spend the next seven years only seeing her darling during summers and holiday breaks

Absolutely no doubt. First, can I say how much I love the idea of Professor!Bellatrix in general cause I do. So fucking much. She’ll be there at the train station causing the most dramatic/traumatizing scene ever only to apparate to Hogwarts and wait for her bby to arrive so she can happily greet them as if she hadn’t just got done seeing them off awhile ago. That, or she she’s riding the train with her bby all the way to Hogwarts. And you can bet, which ever option it is, it’ll be the same exact routine for the next six years.

Also, Yan!Mom!Professor!Bellatrix wholeheartedly plays favorites, she’s very open and blatant about it too. And her most favorite-est student is of course her bby, as if it could possibly be anyone else. You can bet the first few months of the school year, Bellatrix is escorting and overseeing her bby in their classes. And she’s watching like a hawk, scrutinizing everything the other professors do.

You can also bet Bellatrix is slippin’ her bby answers, both in her own class and the other ones as well. Like, I can imagine after all the countless times Bellatrix has been kicked out/banned from the other classrooms she finds ways to sneak in and help her bby out even if they don’t need it at all. Like, she’s just camped out on a banister like some kind of gargoyle watching everything or she’s outside the classroom peeking in from the window, sticking to the side of the castle like spiderman. Hell, she’d sneakin’ in just to slip her precious child some snacks or a spare quill just as an excuse to see and check on them. She knows her bby is well capable of getting through their classes on their own but Bellatrix can’t help her severe separation anxiety. Besides, she needs to know how the other professors and students are treating her bby when she isn’t around.

I can’t help but imagine Yan!mom!Bellatrix, Professor or not, if her child was on the quidditch team. I could see her starting out and coming off calm and collected when watching their first game only to become a rollercoaster of emotions throughout the whole thing. She’s a mess of excitement and nerves for her bby. She’s screaming and hollering for them, jumping with unabashed joy when they’re doing their thing. She and Narcissa are totally holding signs and representing the house colors of whatever house the Reader is in, same goes for Draco when he’s playing. Merlin forbid if Bellatrix’s bby gets hit with a bludger, she would need to be completely restrained from going off and cursing the player and their entire family. And when I say Bellatrix would hold a grudge against the student who did it, I mean it. She would make their life hell until they eventually graduated or transferred schools. Not to mention Draco and his posse are there to help too.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

I'm still here ngl..

*

Listen, I see this and feel so much happiness. Jimin dancing, showing who he is, showing the versatility of his style and giving us just a glimpse into the extensive, vast range of his talent.

There's been some revisionism happening regarding BTS that's ratcheted up in the last three years or so. I can't be the only person who's noticed it. People more forcefully asserting things about the members that are just plain absurd, like saying this or that member isn't that talented, or that xyz member has this massive character failing that's only just apparent now for some reason, or that things they've said and done aren't actually the case. After FACE, I noticed people saying shit like Jimin can't sing and can't dance...

That reminds me, I went to a cup-sleeve event in June for another group and someone told me to my face Jimin can't dance and I almost uppercut that bitch. It ticked me off but I didn't actually assault her. What I did instead was ask her to explain what she meant, told her I disagreed, and showed her why by playing Jimin's Black Swan solo DP. She took back her initial claim and said she'd just been in a k-pop group online and all those people were saying is how none of the BTS members are that talented especially Jimin who apparently can't sing to save his life and whatever dancing he can do is limited to a few moves from 6 years ago.

Plain insanity.

Jimin, out of the kindness of his sweet, magnanimous heart, is giving the amnesia patients a crash course in who he is. He's reminding people he is Park Jimin of BTS. The dancer who joined a nearly bankrupt agency, had the shortest training period in that agency's history, and with the least resources, and debuted as the main dancer and lead singer of what is now the biggest group in the world. The man who critics from all over the world laud as a virtuoso, in voice, dance, and performance. His voice has brought men to their knees, calmed babies, enchanted concert halls, made stadiums full of people cry out in pure joy. There's nobody alive or dead like Park Jimin, and the fact we all get to exist in the same time as him is a blessing too many people (for my liking) take for granted.

ThisIsJimin is a gift I'm thankful to Jimin for giving us again.

*

Anyway, I was watching that clip again with a friend and she pointed out how cool the dance practice room was. Noted how it's a massive improvement from the old BigHit halls that had mold growing on the walls and water dripping on live wires in the back. It's taken years, hard work by the members, good business sense from BigHit/HYBE, and a lot of my own hard-earned money as well as the resources (time, money, otherwise) from ARMYs over the years to get to this point - and I just want to say, speaking for myself, even though I still see massive room for improvement, I feel very happy with the state of things.

HYBE is cultivating a solid roster of talent built on BTS's hard work. The world-class facilities in the building is the first good sign, as well as the talent now being fostered there. I love the quality of the army of dancers Jimin had access to for his SMF Pt2 performances, I love that NewJeans is doing so well that Riot Games sought them to feature on their new World's anthem, I love that a whole new generation of incredible groups are growing in the environment created by BTS's own trials and success.

BOYNEXTDOOR is a group that continues to have my attention because all six boys are just that good. They posted their dance practice for Crying today (my favourite song from a rookie group in 2023), and I noticed they did it in a similar dark coloured dance practice room Jimin filmed his #ThisIsJimin choreo in. And that really just put a very silly smile on my face for a reason I can't pinpoint yet.

*

Maybe it's aftereffects from the Jimin Effect after streaming his reel as hard as I'm streaming Indigo lately.

I see the asks you send, about Golden, JK in general, jokers, this or that thing happening in fandom, and I'll get to them at some point but I don't want to talk about them right now. Because I'm still stuck on Jimin showcasing himself in that air conditioned, world class dance practice room that's only possible because of his hard work, tenacity, talent, and love for his group.

I'm still stuck on Jimin and legit cannot move on. He's such a beast. Such a calculating, proud, stubborn, and kind beast of a man.

I'm not sure what's going on with me.

We're in Jimtober so maybe his juju is just extra strong and I can't escape his grip no matter what I try. Anyway, it's a good idea to stream FACE, allow yourself to re-experience his album, check out his other solos as well (played Christmas Love over the weekend and realized it sounds even better on low frequency speakers), and eat a lot of spicy food followed by warm/hot drinks because Jimin is curious about such things (and it really does work).

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: dhr_advent (part 5)

dhr_advent 2023:

Teach Me How To Fall by sodamnrad - M, one-shot - raco forces offers to teach Hermione how to play Quidditch for the Ministry's holiday game.

Keep It Like a Secret by PacificRimbaud - M, one-shot - He regards her with interest, cool as the ice in his G&T. “What do you want?” On close inspection, he's a bit deadly. It's the combined power of self-regard, an open ear, and a cunningly tailored suit. Hermione wants— “An expiration date would be nice.” She suctions up the watery dregs and signals for more. “Let’s say I want . . . a year. Exactly one year of monogamy without the possibility of further commitment."

In Want of a Wife by ambpersand - E, one-shot - Through a few forced breaths, Hermione manages to settle her nausea well enough to slide out of bed, squinting at the bright morning light. The braid of ribbons follows her left hand as she pulls the curtains closed, a giant knot of silver and gold that won’t shake free. While she works on unwinding them from her hand and arm, she checks the papers, finding the signatures she hoped they would be too drunk to remember to complete. Unfortunately not. There they sit, sloppy and side by side. Her’s a little cramped and rushed, his a little too large and loopy. Her lungs squeeze tight. They actually did it. At some point between the first glass of nettle wine and the last bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy, it must have stopped being a joke. She’s still wearing her dress from the night before, which fits the messy carnage that surrounds her. It’s wrinkled and a bit twisted around her waist, but at least it’s not tossed on the floor with the rest of her marriage licence. The only thing missing is her apparent husband.

sweet dreams of holly and ribbon by LovesBitca8 - E, one-shot - The war against the Dark Lord continues on, but Hermione is stuck at Grimmauld Place with the world's most annoying house guest.

From the Journal of Hermione Granger by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L) - M, one-shot - Only one bed, rainforest edition. In which Hermione Granger goes on an expedition to Costa Rica in search of a magical (probably mythical) poinsettia with her insufferable colleague, Draco Malfoy, who she can't stop drawing. (It's not creepy, he just has good bone structure.)

Not What It Looks Like by eveningstruggle - M, one-shot - A hot, panicky hurt begins to throb inside her chest. This doesn’t make sense. Is it some type of horribly misguided practical joke? Revenge for shutting him down a few months ago? Or—is it a parting gift? A “so long and thanks for the memories, now I’m off to fuck someone else?” ”What—” Her voice croaks. She clears her throat and tries again. “What the fuck is this, Malfoy?” Confusion creases his forehead. “They’re photos of you.” She’s five seconds from bolting back through the Floo. “I can see that. Why have you given me two dozen terrible photos of myself for Christmas?” Or: Draco gives Hermione a Christmas gift.

Sounds Worth It by RoseHarperMaxwell - T, one-shot - The first time Draco seeks her out at the hospital is a crisp October day, which happens to be the six-month anniversary of her divorce. “Hello,” says Hermione, glancing up from her paperwork. “Draco. Can I…help you?” He’s well put together, dropping gracefully into the chair across from her desk without invitation. “Yes. I’m in need of medical attention.” “I see.” Hermione does not, in fact, see. This is quite unorthodox. There’s a triage procedure��and rarely does it result in patients coming to her office. “Tell me more.” Five times Draco fakes an ailment as an excuse to visit Hermione, and one time he doesn't. D/Hr Advent 2023 🎄

Penguins, Pebbles, and Other Reasons to Pursue Unemployment by mightbewriting - T, one-shot - “Is that…shit? On my desk?” Granger doesn’t so much as look up from her mountain of teetering parchments at Draco’s question. Her hair: frazzled. Her frown: ominous. The energy in their shared office: frantic. “Penguin shit,” she says. “Specifically, it’s penguin shit.” [In which a penguin-themed mishap at the Ministry nearly costs Draco his sanity.]

O' Little Town Of Balsam Grove by inadaze22 - M, one-shot - Chaos comes to the town of Balsam Grove and wrecks Draco's plans for the perfect proposal.

Most Sincerely Yours by morriganmercy - T, one-shot - Harry has been certain for months that Malfoy is up to something. When Hermione finds a seemingly out-of-character Christmas card, she can’t help but agree.

Chaperone Chaos, Mistletoe Madness: A Yule Ball Tale by scullymurphy - M, one-shot - Professors Malfoy and Granger hate each other. They're also chaperoning the Yule Ball, where Erotogenic Mistletoe makes a timely appearance.

The Path Carefully Tread by HeyJude19 - T, one-shot - The nature of families could shift; shaped by time, trauma, arguments, and reconciliations. She saw how Draco warred with that now, how he battled his instinctual, youthful desire to please his father with his resolve to sever ties with someone who had hurt him gravely.

A Gentleman's Guide to Courtship and Caregiving by ChaosAndCrumpets - T, one-shot - An accident involving a quidditch bat has Draco Malfoy wishing tragic and irreversible misfortune on Blaise Zabini. But he'll leave St Mungo's with far more than just a healed nose; a newly acquired Godmother, an affinity for mince pies, and an inconvenient attraction to a certain Healer, to name just three.

Seasons of Liberation by Misdemeanor1331 - E, one-shot - Unmoored after the murder of his parents, Draco seeks stability in the Muggle world. The woman he pays to anchor him has an agenda all her own.

dhr_advent 2024:

if you ever want to be in love by Wanderingfair - E, one-shot - “How did you two meet?” Rolf Scamander is nice, companionable. She likes him for Luna. She doesn’t correct the implication as Draco slips his hand around her waist. She wants to say, we’re partners. We’re friends. We’ve saved each other in a million tiny, life-altering ways. “Oh, we’ve met in every universe.” A love story told through the vignettes of healing over many Decembers.

In Pursuit of a Marshmallow by Zeebee3 - E, one-shot - The room bursts into catcalls and whoops, but Hermione just blinks down at it. Charcoal? It doesn’t immediately compute. “You don’t seem surprised,” Malfoy drawls. “Have you been naughty this year, Granger?” Oh. Those bastards. --- Or, where a new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product is featured at a holiday party.

There's an Art to Pining by charingfae - E, one-shot - Hermione yearns. For love, for success, for contentment. Above all, she yearns for something—or someone—she'll never have. — Malfoy is everywhere. He’s in the way she takes her tea—black with a splash of honey, like he does. Etches and echoes of sweeping tendrils of silver-blond strands falling across his forehead, shadowing his cheekbones beneath the harsh afternoon sun. Long fingers that drum against his thighs when he’s bored. His sharp wit comes out on pub nights, and it’s a delight to see it turned on other people. To laugh with him. He looks at her sometimes, in those moments, and the secret smile he gives her is nothing short of earth-shattering. 

Wrapped in Ribbon by morriganmercy - E, one-shot - Unity is the theme for Hogwarts’ first-ever Eighth Year, including a reprise of the highly-acclaimed Yule Ball. Draco gladly makes himself a shining example of the effort, though, to be fair, he’s mostly only interested in uniting with his co-Head, Hermione Granger.

Sojourn by inadaze22 - M, one-shot - On a cliffside in Iceland, Hermione finds what her subconscious has been searching for all along.

Prince Draco Underground by PacificRimbaud - G, one-shot - Of her lover’s many faults and arguable virtues, he's never late. So when 8 o’clock runs into 10, 12 ticks into 2, and Hermione's third note of rationally tempered concern flies unanswered back to sender, she panics. “He's probably sick,” says Harry. “You both work in a hospital. The place where diseases live.” “When has he ever,” says Hermione, “failed to advertise a twinge?” Outside the Malfoy Manor gates, the grass is green. Inside the fence— “Go home,” says Harry gravely. “Go to hell,” Hermione replies. And because that is that, they plod up the drive and strain open the door to a landscape of ominous white.

A Warm Drink by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L) - E, one-shot - Hermione long ago learned that the only way to take care of a problem is to deal with it herself. That's why she's determined to hunt down the vampire assaulting students at Hogwarts. Or, what's 8th year without a bit of blood drinking for Christmas? A Vampire Draco AU

Earmuffs and Other Unusual Delinquencies by ChaosAndCrumpets - T, one-shot - A Factual and Unexaggerated Account of the Numerous and Undignified Crimes of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. As told (in part) by Theodore Nott.

icebreaker by ninepiecesofcrait - E, one-shot - On his way out of the office for Christmas break, Malfoy accidentally grabs the horrible present Ginny gave Hermione instead of his own, unraveling Hermione’s plans for a quiet, relaxing holiday in a single, vibrating moment.

Christmas (Cracker) Chemistry by ambpersand - E, one-shot - “Christmas Crackers?” Malfoy asks, holding one up, then looks at her with a surprisingly warm expression. “Cute.” Hermione fights a blush. They’re no ordinary Christmas Crackers. She had George and the staff at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes whip up a special surprise for the Ministry—except she explicitly requested they be red and green, not gold and silver. It’s not that big of a deal. She’ll get over it. Tomorrow. Malfoy busies himself by helping to distribute several tubes on each table without request. It’s easy, working with him in a silent tandem. They’ve done it a few times on shared projects, holing up in her office or his, and quickly fall into an easy rhythm. Every time she sneaks a glance, he’s conveniently looking elsewhere. At the final table, he shakes one close to his ear. “So what’s inside? They’re light.” She hurries over to him. There’s few enough people around that the surprise won't be ruined if she gives him a peek, and the prototypes were perfect. “We’ll have to be quick.” A sly smile pulls at his lips, and he holds one end towards her. “On three?”

Smaller Acts by Molivier - M, one-shot - “You know,” she says, her voice a little too tender, a little too honest, “I’ll allow you to be rude to me. Just once. Tell me how you really feel.” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to her lips and then back to her eyes. “I don’t think you’d like it.” “Try me.”

In the Air There's a Feeling by eveningstruggle - T, one-shot - “Still using caffeine to bribe the local business owners into liking you?” “Doing my best.” He held up his copy of the card. “Has any person ever looked less happy about Christmas than this man? His idea of nice decorations is probably a fake tree and some dusty plastic garland.” “I opened Crooks’ Book Nook four years ago, and in all that time the DABA hasn’t done anything except collect annual dues and turn down permit applications for new benches. I almost don’t want to participate, just on principle, but that’s a lot of money.” “If you ask nicely, I’ll share some of it when I win,” said Malfoy as he turned to leave. Hermione shot two fingers at his back. or: Hermione and Draco decorate competitively.

Shag Lists, Wish Lists and Other Miracles by greenflowerpot - not rated, one-shot - Hermione Granger joins the Ministry after a year abroad. Draco Malfoy becomes her friend, then she learns something about him that makes her not want to be his friend, then she plans an office Christmas party. - OR: Draco Malfoy, reformed rake simp, holiday edition.

Eves and Ends by HeyJude19 - E, one-shot - Draco does not care how he landed in this situation. Whether curse or coma or hallucination, he has no desire to know what has trapped him in his present circumstance. There’s nothing at all stopping him from reliving Christmas Eve with Granger for the rest of time.

This fest is ongoing.

[aslitheryprinx]

I wish that I were a streamer, bc what just happened to me is SO insane.

So despite having played Minecraft for years I've never actually beaten the game on a survival world. I always get distracted and end up creating a new world before I actually get to that point. Earlier today, I decided to log onto a slightly older world (like a year or so, not very old, but it's been a bit) since I'd already progressed pretty far.

I gather all my stuff and start hunting down the stronghold. It takes a bit, especially cause I'm not super practiced at this, but I find it! I also happen to find a bunch of old stuff from when I apparently died trying to find the stronghold ages ago- that was a nice surprise!

You know what wasn't a nice surprise??

The stronghold sitting snug up against the deep dark.

Honestly, at first I think it's pretty cool. It's the first time I've actually seen the deep dark in person, so I'm more intrigued than anything else.

I set my spawn, and start looking for the portal room.

I open a single door and hear a shrieker go off.

Darkness starts pulsing.

Right about then is when I start thinking 'ok this might be a Problem!!!'

I'm hoping the shrieker or catalyst or whatever it is that actually spawns the warden is outside the door, so I press my luck and go forward. I end up setting it off again, so I retreat to try and figure out my next move.

I'm wondering if I should just abandon this stronghold and find a new one, but that would be a pretty long journey. If I can just get rid of the catalyst, I should be set to explore the stronghold.

I leave the actual stronghold itself and start carefully going around looking for where the problem spot is, but I can't actually see anything important except for a diamond. I crouch the whole way, grab it, and come back to the top.

And then. A zombie villager sneaks up behind me and knocks me off into the deep dark.

I land on the catalyst, setting a shrieker off again of course.

Now, I wasn't sure how many times you could set the warden off. I thought it ran on a 3 strikes you're out system, so I am PANICKING.

I try to break the catalyst.

The catalyst is also under a water stream so I'm splashing around the whole time and. Of course. I set off a shrieker again.

The Warden spawns.

Somehow, I manage to swim back up the water stream without dying. I turn around. The Warden is about six blocks away.

It is at this point that I just fully pause the game to contemplate my fate.

Maybe I should've logged out at that point, to lose that aggro on myself. But I didn't think about that.

I was incredibly certain I was about to die, and having just gained back a ton of stuff that I'd been devastated by losing in the first place, (enough that I had kind of lost interest in this world originally), I decided that making sure I didn't lose any of my stuff was the priority.

And my spawn point was basically right there...

I dropped back into the stronghold and was almost immediately killed by the Warden. But when I respawned, I could see my stuff all right there, still safe.

New problem: the Warden had dropped down and was also right in front of my spawn point.

And thus begins my death loop.

I put all of my stuff save my sword in a chest- which didn't help the warden being mad at me- and decided to try and brute force kill this thing through multiple deaths.

But by the time I had everything situated, the warden had sort of disappeared.

It was still there. It was shooting me with sonic blasts and killing me over and over again. But I couldn't actually see it, so I couldn't kill it.

It was at this point that I decided to log out, get a snack, and come back with a clearer head afterwards.

I don't know if wardens despawn. I don't know if it's going to be there when I come back. But I'm in too deep now, I am going to find the portal room of this Stronghold if I have to kill the Warden with my bare fists to do it!!!!!

[mallory-x]

Thank you @bazzybelle for the tag! I love getting tagged in things even if I don’t always remember to reblog them

Were you named after anyone?

I have the same name as my mum’s cousin but she says I’m not named after her. Apparently my mum just picked a name that she liked that she didn’t know anyone else had used for their child, and managed to predict one of the most popular girl’s names that year. By the time I was in upper sixth there were 12 of us in sixth form with the same name.

Do you have kids?

No. I have complicated feelings over it but I’m at a place now where I’m happy with being childfree. I’m in my mid 40s so it’s unlikely to happen even if I wanted it to now.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Me? Sarcastic? Never!

(I have to warn new people that I’m a sarcastic bitch and to let me know if I go too far and I can tone it down a bit)

What's the first thing you notice about people?

If they need help/support. I used to think it was annoying that people would always approach me to ask directions or something, but now I’ve realised they approach me because I’ve made eye contact first. Now I’m older and more confident I go up to them if they’re looking lost and ask if I can help.

What's your eye colour?

Hazel. Predominantly brown with a dark limbic ring, and green around the iris.

Scary movie or happy ending?

Happy ending. I don’t like horror films (except vampire and werewolf ones, which don’t count). I can cope with a sad ending if it’s the noble, self-sacrificing type of sad ending. (Yes, the irony of this when I’m in the Sandman fandom, I’m well aware!)

Any special talents?

Appearing confident and organised when I’m really just anxiety, ADHD and autism in a trenchcoat.

What are your hobbies?

What I say my hobbies are: knitting, crochet, embroidery, reading, steampunk

What I spend my time doing: scrolling discord, Instagram, and tumblr, and reading smut on AO3, all while procrastinating any of about 16 craft and writing projects

Have any pets?

I have three cats - Giles, Willow, and Cordy (Cordelia). We did have five cats earlier this year, but we lost Charlie to heart failure in April and Spike to a car accident about six weeks ago.

What sport do you play/have you played?

I recently started learning Historical European Martial Arts (HEMA) - specifically 15th century German longsword. Hob Gadling would be proud!

How tall are you?

I tell people I’m 5’9” (1.75m) but I’m probably closer to 5’8” these days

Favourite subject at school?

Maths. Pure maths in particular is so elegant, it’s like poetry.

Dream job?

What I’m working towards: nurse practitioner in the emergency department

What I daydream about: running a little secondhand bookshop/cafe with lots of little nooks with sofas and armchairs to curl up in, regular groups coming in for crafting sessions or board gaming or toddler groups, hanging coffees for homeless people - a place that people feel welcome and want to come and hang out in.

Tagging @janimoon, @acanthoscurria, @shadowpuppet-storyteller, @zigzag-wanderer, @temve, @starlightervarda, @tryan-a-bex, @ginjones, @gabessquishytum, @paprotkarotka. No pressure of course

[mr2swap]

Take Me Home, Country Roads

I have to admit that at first, I was very upset with Johnny, That damn bastard managed in a way that I still don't know to exchange our bodies and our lives, one night I was sleeping in my luxurious apartment in my silk pajamas in NYC and when I woke up to a stinky hot little room in a rusty old trailer. I thought I was dreaming until the smell of my stinky sweaty armpits snapped me out of my weird dizziness and into my new reality.

Likewise, I felt strange and not only because my body was now that of a 19-year-old boy, but something was wrong with my head, it was as if my mind was getting used to the lazy and fucking brain of this boy, all my studies and my Hardboard's diploma were useless now, so I walked into another small room, avoiding the old stale beer cans littering the floor, and entered the filthy, filthy bathroom of the RV where I'd woken up.

My new face was much younger, I barely had hair on my head that seemed to have been shaved at least a month ago, and my skin was much whiter and smoother. Now I had a tattoo on my shoulder -Who the fuck is Jenny?- I surprised myself using those rude words coming out of my mouth without really being angry….

My stupid brain now limited myself, I searched the small and messy house full of garbage until I found a cell phone, but when I finally had it in my hands, my own number quickly disappeared from my mind -SHIT! NO! NO! - Without realizing it, I began to beat my own head trying to think how to get out of this shitty situation.

The heat was so unbearable and annoying that my armpits and the rest of my body began to sweat, and the small space where I now lived still smelled bad, I went to the "kitchen" and opened the fridge to find something to quench my thirst, without thinking about it Too bad I grabbed a can of ice-cold beer, and emptied it into my mouth before I realized what I'd done, but… it felt good.

I took the rest of the six-pack that was in the fridge and opened another can and sat on a sofa that had obviously never been cleaned and started drinking from the second can, I had never tried this cheap brand in my life, but somehow reason the taste was familiar and pleasant, little by little beer after beer I began to relax and watch a soccer game on the small television in front of me, I had forgotten all my problems when I had already drunk 4 cans, I no longer thought about what was happening me or where my real body was, the only thing I was concentrating on now was how big the boobs on the cheer squad were.

I looked down at my pants and had a reaction that I never had in my old life, a boner for a woman. Wasting no time pulling out my new cock and spit on my calloused hands and started jerking off letting the memories of “Jimmy” about boobs, ass, and vagina seep into my mind, my new cock was quite thick albeit a bit small, but I didn't care about that, it was the perfect size for my hands hardened by physical work.

Apparently now I'd be living in the country in a huge parking lot with a bunch of noisy southern families like me...

After that, I never tried to remember my old life or my old body, life in the country is pretty quiet, I work 8 hours a day at the local construction company and after that I go to my new friend's house to smoke, drinking, watching football and talking about all the girls we've fucked, I'm thinking about getting a girlfriend or something it would be great to have a pussy eager for me when I get to my RV.

Hey! You can support me to continue creating stories, see similar stories on my patreon, you can also join my discord if you are interested in role-playing about bodyswap, possession and transformation, m2m!

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Can I be real for a second?

I’ve gone back and forth in my head about whether or not to post about this very real side of me online or not. There’s nothing shameful about being disabled, but I don’t want to be known as my disability, either. I don’t want that to be my identity.

But I’m hoping to post some of my writing tomorrow for Six Sentence Sunday. Post something I’ve written, albeit just a small bit, online where anyone can see it. It will be the first time I’ve done so since the car accident three years ago. And the truth is, the terrible truth is, my writing is what hurts the most.

Stories have always been a part of my life. They have always been my motivation, why I slogged through everything else - my reason for existing. I wrote novels and hoped to publish, and I fell in love with the writing community and made it my home. I volunteered and organized events. I created an extremely successful and fulfilling teen writing club where I taught creative writing. I was in love with stories, and writing them. I have never not been in love with stories.

(Before I was a writer I was an artist. I’m not going to go into that part of my life in detail, but it was just as heavily affected.)

At the beginning of 2020 I was in a car accident. The driver at fault was pulling out of a bar parking lot in the middle of the day. Make of that what you will. The accident he caused left me with more than a few issues, but for this post I’m focusing on the vision impairment.

Because of COVID, I wasn’t able to seek any diagnosis or treatment until June. I didn’t even begin physical therapy until August. Due to a myriad of issues and unfortunate reasons, I couldn’t complete my treatment. That meant a year and a half of work and struggle went down the drain.

This continues to affect me in many ways. Sometimes it’s things that you might expect - I can’t read Tumblr, or books, most days. Some limitations are less obvious, like how I’m afraid to ask questions (e.g. “what kind of car did Fiona drive?”) because the resources to find the answers myself are out there. Why don’t I just google it? Or reference that amazing spreadsheet someone did? Why am I asking other people to do the work for me? Am I just lazy?

People don’t mean to judge (and I’m sure there are plenty who don’t). But my issues aren’t apparent, so they won’t know unless I take the time to explain it. Able-eyed people should be able to find these simple answers. Just look in the book.

So I don’t ask. Or I apologize a lot for asking. Because it’s just too hard to explain why I need such basic help. (And sadly, some people still don’t believe me and treat me as thought I’m making excuses.)

I lost most of my friends simply for being unable to chat online, particularly during lockdown. I kept three people in my life - the three people willing to break with their comfort zones and talk to me on the phone instead of via text or chat. Those people probably saved my life. I know everyone went through isolation issues in 2020. But I went through them unable to even use a computer or read a book.

Since I’m typing this, you can guess that I’ve recovered somewhat, or made some accommodations that help. Yes. I have. Both of those. But I still have more bad days than good. Typing too long, or playing a phone game, surfing Tumblr - anything done for too long can break my eyes and send me back into total isolation for days.

I was a really good writer. I would regularly write 10-20k every weekend, and I wrote well. I wrote great stuff. (Rough drafts are always rough drafts, but I felt good about what I wrote.) I would sink into a character and go for hours.

Here’s the part that’s relevant to me now: I can’t do that anymore. I can’t write for hours, I can’t take the time to slip into character. I’m doing really well if I can pound out a speedy 1k in 30 minutes and have it not break my eyes. (It usually breaks my eyes.)

If you’re a writer, though - or any kind of creative - you know that the need doesn’t just go away.

(I have tried to record notes on my phone, but I just cannot dictate writing fiction. Only my fingers know how to speak well, and in character. And no, I’m not going to learn braille. It would not be helpful.)

So I’m going to try to write. It’s going to suck, because the things I did to write well before are things I can’t do anymore. I will cry. And then I will wait a week or however long it takes for my eyes to chill the fuck out, and I’ll try again.

(I’ve also started treatment again, just this month. I have to start at square one again, which means it will get worse before it gets better. It will take time, and money - lots of both. Like years. But I can’t give up.)

Anyway. This is why I chose the Simon Snow fandom to try again, for the first time in forever. Because that’s the story, and those are the characters, and these are the people. I know it. So. Hi.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Missing Three-Quarter pt 1

We were fairly accustomed to receive weird telegrams at Baker Street, but I have a particular recollection of one which reached us on a gloomy February morning some seven or eight years ago...

OK, so obviously my first question - in spite of knowing that time is made up in these stories and attempting to pin them down is an exercise in madness - is what year was this story published. Google provides: 1904. So we're supposedly looking at 1896-7.

Not that that means anything.

“Please await me. Terrible misfortune. Right wing three-quarter missing; indispensable to-morrow. — Overton.”

I mean if you're missing three quarters of your right wing, that does sound like a terrible misfortune, but I am interested in how a bird managed to send a telegram. Perhaps it is the trained cormorant! Or one of the canaries.

Despite being British and my brother having played it at school (and numerous other things about my life which mean I should know), the rules and terminology of rugby are completely beyond me. It is a massive gap in my knowledge that I have no real desire to fill in. I know William Webb Ellis and that there's League and Union, something something scrum, score a try, six nations. There. That's all I know.

But according to the post script in the last email, this is about Rugby, so I must assume that Right Wing three quarter refers to a playing position and that tomorrow there is a rugby game.

For years I had gradually weaned him from that drug mania which had threatened once to check his remarkable career. Now I knew that under ordinary conditions he no longer craved for this artificial stimulus, but I was well aware that the fiend was not dead, but sleeping; and I have known that the sleep was a light one and the waking near when in periods of idleness I have seen the drawn look upon Holmes's ascetic face, and the brooding of his deep-set and inscrutable eyes.

This is honestly a really interesting and serious discussion of drug addiction. We've had a few comments from Watson about it before, but never to this extent, I don't think. And the actual discussion of how he's been slowly getting Sherlock clean over the years. But the acknowledgement that it's always there, waiting. And it's always preying on Watson's mind, too.

Mr. Cyril Overton, of Trinity College, Cambridge

Of course he's from a Cambridge college and worrying about a rugby game. The only way this could be more Oxbridge is if it were the boat race he was worrying about.

Do you think it's an Oxbridge match or an intercollegiate one?

“I've been down to Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes. I saw Inspector Stanley Hopkins. He advised me to come to you. He said the case, so far as he could see, was more in your line than in that of the regular police.”

Glad to see the police really care about missing people. Although 'university rugby player wandered off' isn't really that unusual in my experience. After a rugby social night you'd trip over them in the weirdest places. After the medical students, they probably had the most intense events.

"Whether it's passing, or tackling, or dribbling, there's no one to touch him..."

Do you dribble in rugby? I genuinely thought that was a football term.

(According to the All Blacks apparently you do... weird. I do not understand this game at all)

"Why, Morton or Johnson, the Oxford fliers, could romp round him."

Ah, it's an Oxbridge match. No wonder he's so put out about it.

“There is Arthur H. Staunton, the rising young forger,” said he, “and there was Henry Staunton, whom I helped to hang, but Godfrey Staunton is a new name to me.”

Just let me look in my book of people. Oh yes, he's not the one I had hanged... nope, don't know him. This is so funny to me.

“I suppose, then, if you have never heard of Godfrey Staunton you don't know Cyril Overton either?”

His utter astonishment at Holmes not knowing about rugby is sweet and also hilarious. Also kind of arrogant, but I was expecting that.

...with many repetitions and obscurities which I may omit from his narrative, he laid his strange story before us.

Thank you, Watson.

"Half an hour later the porter tells me that a rough-looking man with a beard called with a note for Godfrey. [...] Godfrey read it and fell back in a chair as if he had been pole-axed. [...] Then he went downstairs, said a few words to the man who was waiting in the hall, and the two of them went off together. The last that the porter saw of them, they were almost running down the street in the direction of the Strand."

Oooh... long lost relative? But what's in the letter? Does Godfrey have a secret past? Is the bearded man a colonel? Has he trained some birds to do crimes? But if he had trained birds to do crimes, surely he could also train them to deliver messages without needing porters.

Even with Watson editing this down, the tone, pace and wording still convey Cyril's personality perfectly. Excellent character work. Chef's kiss.

“I wired to Lord Mount-James.” “Why to Lord Mount-James?” “Godfrey is an orphan, and Lord Mount-James is his nearest relative—his uncle, I believe.”

Ding-ding, we have some more evidence for long lost relative. Maybe crawling out of the woodwork to get money? If Godfrey is related to a Lord, that would make sense.

"Lord Mount-James is one of the richest men in England.”

Yep, there is definitely going to be at least an indication that money is involved. Although it may turn out to be one of those stories where that is a red herring.

“Yes, he was his heir, and the old boy is nearly eighty—cram full of gout, too. They say he could chalk his billiard-cue with his knuckles. He never allowed Godfrey a shilling in his life, for he is an absolute miser, but it will all come to him right enough.”

They are really building up the money motive. Makes me think it won't be that straightforward.

He was simply what the porter described as a “medium-looking chap”

Watson, king of describing people, faced with an ordinary person. You can feel the exasperation.

“It is a pity he did not write in pencil,” said he, throwing them down again with a shrug of disappointment. “As you have no doubt frequently observed, Watson, the impression usually goes through—a fact which has dissolved many a happy marriage. However, I can find no trace here. I rejoice, however, to perceive that he wrote with a broad-pointed quill pen, and I can hardly doubt that we will find some impression upon this blotting-pad."

Proper old school detective work going on. Blotting paper. Does anyone in the world still use blotting paper, I wonder. I spent my childhood reading Enid Blyton and Agatha Christie and wondering what it even was.

"But I dare say it may have come to your notice that if you walk into a post-office and demand to see the counterfoil of another man's message there may be some disinclination on the part of the officials to oblige you. There is so much red tape in these matters! However, I have no doubt that with a little delicacy and finesse the end may be attained."

How dare they protect people's privacy in that way! How dare!

Honestly, I find this kind of reassuring. I may have assumed that there was no security about these things at all in the Victorian era. Weird when you find something that they did better back then. By 'delicacy and finesse' does he mean 'bribery'? So... maybe not any better really.

...we looked up to find a queer little old man, jerking and twitching in the doorway. He was dressed in rusty black, with a very broad brimmed top-hat and a loose white necktie—the whole effect being that of a very rustic parson or of an undertaker's mute. Yet, in spite of his shabby and even absurd appearance, his voice had a sharp crackle, and his manner a quick intensity which commanded attention.

See, Mr Day-porter, this is how you describe a person.

"If he has any expectations it is due to the fact that I have never wasted money, and I do not propose to begin to do so now. As to those papers with which you are making so free, I may tell you that in case there should be anything of any value among them you will be held strictly to account for what you do with them.”

Huge Scrooge McDuck vibes from this guy.

“Heavens, sir, what an idea! I never thought of such villainy! What inhuman rogues there are in the world! But Godfrey is a fine lad—a staunch lad. Nothing would induce him to give his old uncle away."

Dude, hate to say it, but if you were my uncle I would absolutely give you away. In a heartbeat. I would be telling them every piece of information I knew about you so fast they'd have burgled your house before you could blink. Unless they showed me their faces, then I'd use the information as leverage to get away.

But you seem like such a great guy, I'm sure Godfrey wants to protect you with his life.

Totally.

"You must admit that it is curious and suggestive that this incident should occur on the eve of this important match, and should involve the only man whose presence seems essential to the success of the side."

I mean, if he hadn't gone off on his own accord, I'd definitely support the argument 'Oxford kidnapped him'. Makes perfect sense.

OH... Holmes meant people who had bet on the game.

My best bet currently is that he got news (real or false) about someone he cares about and left to try to help them. That would also explain the 'us'.

[listerbirdloml]

its defo not one word but I thought about this and banged it out in like fifteen minutes pls enjoy. no content warning just one naughty naughty word and terrible cooking (?) skills. 1.2k words

ty @underappreciatedtomato for the (two) word!

ice cream

“This is exactly what I needed.” Juliet mused aloud, sighing contently and readjusting how she lay on her lounge chair. There was a hum of agreement from Bliss who was reading a book to Angels right. Angel was in the middle of them and had been simply relaxing with her eyes closed. They had all been in the pool a few hours before and were now taking the time to dry off.

It was late August, and they were currently taking residence in a private villa on the northern coast of Italy. When three members of your six-person friend group are multimillionaires, you take advantage of that at any change you get.

The boys had been kind enough to fork out for the trip, using it as their vacation time away from the hustle and bustle of their fifth album recording. The three of them had left their phones with Cecily and had dedicated themselves to relaxing completely.

Which had led them to, at twenty-two years of age, playing a frankly disturbingly put-together game of mermaids.

Angel had laughed at first, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly. At least they were happy. Even Rowan was playing along; his mermaid apparently caught in a fishers net. Jimmy was trying his best to 'free' him.

“I cannot believe that exactly four years ago today, Jimmy was getting on that train to Kent with some random fangirl.” Bliss said mindlessly, putting her book down and sitting up. “Now he's flapping about in a pool while said crazy stalker fan girl watches him."

Juliet snorted, and Angel slapped them both on the arm. “You're literally on holiday with your ex-boyfriend, four years after breaking up.” Bliss mocked hurt, and Juliet laughed. “Glass house, much?"

"Look, when said ex-boyfriend is paying for said holiday, it doesn't count as a lapse in dignity. It's economics, really."

As they continued with their good-natured teasing, they failed to notice as the three stars in the pool migrated back to join them at the seats. They only noticed when Lister crept up behind Juliet's chair and shook his head, his long hair splaying water all over her and the others.

“Ugh, you’re like a dog!” She called after him as he retreated inside, laughter echoing behind him as it bounced off the white marble walls.

Jimmy took his seat next to Angel, sipping on his alcohol-free mimosa that Lister had made for them all earlier. “How is it?” she asked, motioning down to his drink as she took a moment to adjust her waterproof hijab.

“Terrible.” The singer mumbled quietly, but he was still drinking from the novelty straw Lister had added to all of their glasses. Jimmy's was blue and bended a truly ludircus amount of times. “But he was so proud of it. I don't have the heart to tell him."

“When he wasn’t looking, I put mine in the flowers.” Bliss admitted. 

“I just waited till he had drunk a little of his and kept topping it up with mine.” Juliet added. Rowan shook his head at them, but Angel had seen the face he had pulled when taking his first sip. "Where is he off to anyway?”

“He said something about ice cream when we were in the pool.” Jimmy's words were met with groans.

“Mate, I can’t be bothered going out for ice cream just now.” Rowan grumbled. “I just want to lie down and sleep for, like, two years."

“Thats understandable.” Juliet nodded sympathetically, but it turned cheeky quickly. “Playing mermaids for three hours really takes it out of you."

The group beside Rowan laughed, with Jimmy patting him on the shoulder.

A call for them inside the holiday home alerted them, and soon they all meandered into the large kitchen. There were six bowls set out on the spacious kitchen island, filled with scoops of ice cream and spoons. The ice treat was white, so Angel had to assume it was vanilla, coconut, or something of that ilk.

There were various toppings set out on the island, such as chocolate sauce, sprinkles, and even a packet of Italian-brand Flakes. Lister stood on the other side of the counter, arms wide open, to present his hard work. His face was flushed a lively red and split in a grin. His hair was still wet and was curling where it fell against his neck, still missing his shirt.

“Where on earth did you get this? I thought we ran out of ice cream yesterday." Jimmy asked as he picked up the bowl closest to him.

“I made it!” The excitement in his voice amused Angel to no end, and she too helped herself to a bowl and a spoon.

“When on earth did you make ice cream from scratch?” Rowan asked skeptically.

“Last night. It doesn’t matter; quick, I haven’t tried it yet."

The whisper of ‘so that's where he went’ from Jimmy went unheard as everyone not already holding a bowl picked one. Bliss was the first to take a bite, and her facial expressions revealed nothing of her thoughts as she scooped one large spoonful into her mouth.

Angel followed soon after and realised why.

It was awful.

Truly disgusting. 

Somehow Lister Bird had managed to make not only god awful mimosas but also god awful ice cream. Angel had no idea how it tasted this bad. It was salty and tasted distinctly of egg.

Everyone had taken their own spoonful at this point, but Angel could see that no one had swallowed, everyone trying to find a way out of this that wouldn’t upset Lister. He still had a huge grin as he took a spoonful of his own.

It was in his mouth for barely a second before he spun around and spat it into the sink behind him. That seemed like permission for everyone else to hack up the disgusting, cold mixture.

“What the fuck!” Lister cried as he wiped his mouth, trying to cup water in his hands to wash his mouth out. Bliss had taken the chocolate sauce in her hands and was squirting it directly into her hands, with Rowan begging for some after her.

“The reccepie said eggs! And sugar!” Lister cried as he opened the cupboard and found the ingredients he’d used. When he found the sugar bag, he set it on the counter and squinted at the writing. Not that he’d be able to read it; it was in Italian.

Jimmy rounded the counter and also bent down to be eye level with the bag.

"Lister, that's salt!"

“What!?” The drummer opened the crudely closed bag and took a pinch of the white grains, bringing it to his mouth and licking it off. He gagged and went for more water. It would appear that Jimmy was right.

With their bowls cleaned and their tastebuds no longer lingering with salty egg ice cream, they settled on some of the store-bought snacks. Lister was pouting, even though they tried to reassure him that it wasn’t that bad. it was

“At least my mimosas were good.” Jimmy rubbed his back comfortingly. Angel could see Rowan go to speak and didn't have the time to stop him.

“Well, actually…”