#I’m sick of seeing this every time I look through me drafts I NEED to post

[autisticqueenorder]

[ennabear]

✴︎ —PAINT THE AGES A HUNDRED SHADES OF GOLD ⊹₊⟡⋆

I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT LOVE ANYMORE ‘CAUSE IT’S GETTING TOO MUCH FOR ME …

cw: councilor!sevika x painter!mel, sevika is a lil sad and mean but she gets over it, sevika is also kind of a loser who can’t stop talking when she gets drunk, jinx and isha mentions because i’m evil and we know this, mel paints sevika nude, body worship, lots of comfort, oral sex, 18+

word count: 7.3k

it’s been months since sevika’s big move, and she fucking hates it to say the least.

all of these pilties are stuck up, even more than she remembers. which is a lot. she’s exhausted, she questions why she’s even a part of the council if all they do is ignore her. showing up every day and listening to them talk about her home and her people the way they do makes her sick.

they draft plans to raid the markets, shutting down anyone who isn’t licensed to be selling meat or rice or bread, but they refuse to let anyone get a license to sell those things. of course, she’s glad that she gets to eat three meals a day now, but with every bite she takes, she’s reminded of her home, and how starving they must be over there.

no matter how much she fights back, offers up a real plan that could make peace between the rivaling nations, they all just snicker and point fingers at her like she’s some sort of circus act.

and don’t ask her about how much she likes being called councilor sevika, because she doesn’t like it at all. she’s not a councilor, and maybe that’s a good thing, because it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna be.

still, she keeps her emotions under control. this is a huge opportunity to help get zaun on it’s feet and cut ties with piltover officially, she won’t spoil it by making a scene and giving up. no matter what, she’s gonna make an effort, even if it means being locked in a room with a group of rich pigs who’ve never felt that growing pit of hunger in their stomachs that make them so dizzy that they keel over on the streets.

that they die on the streets.

so yeah, it’s not easy, not even a little bit.

most of her nights are spent alone in her room. it’s nice, “small” compared to the rooms everyone else occupies, but still bigger than any house she’s ever seen in the undercity. it has large windows that let every bit of light in, but it’s still eerily dark at night compared to zaun.

in zaun, there are neon lights and buzzing street lamps that glow and flicker at every hour, so when it gets dark, the colorful lights bounce off of every inch of the city. you can see them in the reflections of the puddles, bright streaks of light flying up into the night from behind buildings and stretching until they’re out of sight.

here, in piltover, they have different kinds of lights. tiny, white holes in the sky called stars that shine when it gets dark. they have spotlights and statues and lanterns, but it gets lonely at night. everyone is at home, distancing from their friends and their jobs, getting sleep and resting up for whatever the next day will bring.

there isn’t really any rest in zaun, just a small wink of sleep whenever you catch it, and you’re up again. everyone’s grouchy and hungry and cold, but it makes for good shimmer sales, and the bar is a great place to find refuge when you need a break from it all.

so sevika sleeps with all of her lights on. an attempt to remind her of home— although her home doesn’t have a queen sized bed, fluffy pillows and soft blankets, lamps, alarm clocks, fireplaces, clean water on their nightstands, and stars that shine through their windows.

the stars might be her favorite part about piltover. probably the only good thing about piltover. she doesn’t really know what they are or what they do, but they’re nice to look at late at night when she can’t manage to sleep.

every time she finds herself staring up at them, she sends a prayer or two up to janna. always one for the people, a prayer that even though they pretend to hate each other, and there sure are a few goons who are ready to slit her throat for never paying them back, she hopes they’re okay.

she hopes that ran and theiram have got the bar under control, that vi and ekko manage to keep the chaos limited, and most of all, that jinx and isha are doing alright.

ever since silco died, her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken vigorously. who knew that someday she’d be missing jinx? but she does. she cries at night for the blue haired girl, praying for her safety and her happiness, hoping that she’s managed to keep some of her creativity after everything that went down.

and of course for the more tolerable blue haired kid, isha.

she prays that isha is still attached at the hip to jinx, that her fluffy hair gets dyed that awful bright blue color as often as she wants it to, that she’s found some way to communicate with the world while her voice is at rest.

she’s got no clue as to where they could be. one second, she’s wishing jinx would leave her alone. that she’d pack up her inventions and make a home for them far away from sevika’s life. the next second, they’re gone. no warning, no heads up whatsoever, just completely taken from her life.

but if she wishes to find any wisp of happiness, she’s gonna have to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, only letting them front when she’s alone and awake and accompanied by the stars. they’re the only things who understand her.

——

if you listen closely, you might be able to hear the sound of mel’s thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

the past few months have given her some intense whiplash, but things are finally starting to straighten out. her life isn’t exactly normal, but she’s growing used to her… new self.

she spends most of her time perched at her easel, painting the canvas in beautiful colors that fall over various people or places. it’s therapeutic for her, whatever image or question or anger she has lingering in her head, she can work it out with the paints. when she’s done, she lines them up in front of her.

it helps her see things more clearly, like a thought that can’t float away, frozen in time for her to analyze further. some of them are just plain colors. gold, with white, yellow, and bronze streaks, an attempt to recreate the swirls that are painted on her own body.

sometimes she paints her mother, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl and her silvery gray hair crowning her head. jayce and viktor occasionally make an appearance, both of their faces lost in thought as they stare at various equations and formulas that she can’t quite make out.

sometimes she just sees miscellaneous things, quick visions that she needs to bring to life. countless canvases are covered in black, with that dark red fog reaching into it like vines. there’s also the hextech that makes the occasional appearance, but she can’t quite get that bright, rich blue color right.

a few times before, she’s attempted portraits, but she doesn’t prefer them. lest has been one of her closest friends during all of this, she can sit and pose for hours while mel works away at her figure on the canvas. they’ve also tried painting together, but mel prefers her alone time.

she’s tried recreating the pictures from her memory, but it never comes out as well. she covers the canvas in thick paint, a bronze, brown, and white, making up jayce’s features. but she always clouds his face with shiny white webs, and those glistening, rainbow stars. the ones that stole him away.

while she sits, her body stays stagnant, eyes racing around the blank canvas. she mixes the colors in her head before she even opens the tubes, her eyes proportion it all for her, so she rarely makes sketches anymore.

recently, she’s been more interested in staying in and shutting out the world. the occasional knock rings out against her door, but she can’t be bothered to investigate. she doesn’t wanna give her opinions anymore, doesn’t wanna lead all of topside to peace and gas the streets of the undercity. really, she never signed up for that. sure, she’s ambessa’s daughter, but she doesn’t care to be a leader anymore. not when all it does is get people hurt and killed.

but apparently it’s urgent this time, because the knocking persists.

“um, mel?” a timid voice asks. “i hate to bother you, but the council requires yo—”

she flings the door open, clad in her white robe and slippers. her hood hangs halfway over her head as she glares at the man, but he insists on escorting her to the council meeting. her feet gently pad against the floor as she walks through the long halls, already dreading having to play referee for a group of adults who should know better.

but ambessa is gone now, and these people need someone to give them any sort of direction.

the dome shaped room welcomes her, and although she dreads being there, the sun shining through the stained glass is gorgeous. she spies a few familiar faces sitting in their respective seats, and notices some new ones who were added after the war.

“but they need the money!” one councilor booms, one of the newer ones who mel doesn’t quite recognize yet. “you can’t just cut their funds and raise the tax prices, they—”

“councilor sevika, please.” someone says, talking over her voice. “what possibly could they need more money for? our city needs to be rebuilt, and it’s them who’s caused all of this destruction.”

mel observes quietly, noticing the tears that fill sevika’s eyes. she makes an assumption that they’re either out of sadness, anger, or exhaustion, but she can’t quite tell. one thing she does know, though, is that it isn’t fair.

it’s not fair to just drag a zaunite up to topside and force her to be the only one representing her nation. especially when she has to be locked in a room full of people who hate her, who think she’s nothing more than just undercity trash to mock and make fun of.

mel’s surprised that sevika has held her ground for this long. if that were her, she’d want to pack up and leave within a day, especially when she notices the snorts and sideways glances that she gets every time she opens her mouth.

“have you even been down there?” sevika asks. “have you seen the bodies lying on the streets? have you heard the sobs of the starving children?”

they all look at her, unable to imagine what hunger even is, much less an entire nation overcome by it. shoola offers a sympathetic frown, but it’s not enough for sevika. she’s exhausted, and the thought of seeing her home even more impoverished is killing her. worst of all, word on the street is that zaunites are beginning to call her a traitor.

she wishes that they could see how hard she’s working, how much she’s fighting for them behind the scenes. but she can’t exactly blame them, it must be hard to watch every leader they’ve ever had either fail at leading them to sovereignty or turn their backs on the people. must be worse to watch someone who they thought was on their side disappear into the council and watch as things just keep getting worse and worse down there.

and this makes sevika feel horrible.

it’s hard for her not to blame herself for this, especially because that’s what she’s used to. her job for years was to be silco’s right hand, so it was constantly her fault if something went wrong. that’s just how things are. if things don’t go her way, it must be her fault for not working harder to overcome it.

“i agree.” mel says plainly. “councilor sevika has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like for them, why shouldn’t we trust her?”

sevika is taken aback at this. she’s never seen someone so… rich looking… be this understanding toward her. but although it’s the bare minimum, she appreciates it. she’ll take whatever form of kindness she can get right now.

the other councilors stare at mel like she’s just grown three heads. obviously, they’ve never been told no a day in their life. sevika is glad that she gets to be present for the first time. some of them sputter and growl, some of them roll their eyes, but sevika just sinks back into her chair and decides to let them argue it out.

“i agree too.” councilor shoola says. “it’s only fair… unless, any of you would like to go down there and experience it for yourselves? then you could tell us all about their excess of funds.”

sevika sighs in relief, thanking janna or the universe or whatever god decided to help her out. she can’t exactly smile, at least not yet, but she manages a tiny grin, and decides that maybe she shouldn’t feel too bad about herself just yet.

mel is glad that sevika and shoola have at least a little bit of brains, but she’s starting to rethink having all of the others on the council. maybe they need to fire some, or at least add some more zaunites to level the playing field. although, she now knows that sevika can put up one hell of a fight, so maybe she doesn’t need it.

but the clock strikes two in the afternoon, and the councilors file out to get on with their day until they meet again tomorrow. sevika hangs back, waiting for everyone to leave before she returns to her office. but mel hangs back too, determined to talk to sevika more, to get to know her.

sevika pulls her cape over her shoulders, completely covering her figure before she exits the room. mel perks up and shoots her a questioning look.

“yes?” sevika asks.

“you’re brave.” mel says.

“no i’m not. d’you think it’s brave of me to leave my people starving and helpless down there while i have a real home and three meals a day?”

mel just stares blankly at her. that isn’t what she meant at all, but at the same time, she’s completely right. as much as she still believes that sevika is brave for putting up with the councilors, she should be calling everyone else brave, everyone in zaun who goes days without food. sevika is the luckiest of them all.

“that’s not what i meant.” mel explains. “i meant that you’re better than them because you stand your ground instead of just getting everything you want. you work hard for what you earn.”

sevika shrugs. “i guess you could say that.”

“do you miss it down there?”

“what do you think?” sevika grunts.

“i’d bet that you do, you just try not to show it in front of anyone.”

“yes, because showing weakness gets you killed.”

“not up here, it doesn’t. you should open up a little, it might be good for you.” mel suggests.

“i’ll pass.”

“i could help you.”

“i don’t need—”

“let me help you.” mel says, reaching out to grab sevika’s hand.

“help me how?” sevika asks.

“open up to me. tell me about your life. friends, family, past, anything.”

“okay… maybe.”

“okay, good.”

——

sevika has never been great at opening up to anyone, but mel is… understanding. as much as she hates to talk about her struggles to other people, mel is probably the best possible person to talk to. mel marched herself down sevika’s hall to her door, banging on it until sevika sleepily presented herself. she marched sevika down the hall and through the building until they reached her own suite, and she fed sevika more and more wine until she started to talk to her.

it started with just a confession. sevika was wine drunk and admitted that yes, she did miss her home, and that she hated topside. and then mel pressed for more, made her tell her specifically who she missed and what she missed about them.

the list of people who she missed was never ending. at the top— jinx and isha. in all honesty, mel is shocked to learn that sevika had anyone that she really considered family, much less a daughter or a niece. but sevika tells her all about them, how isha would beg to paint her nails or dye her hair, and how jinx finally had a sister who she could play with, instead of just being too young to do anything.

but when mel asks where they’ve gone, sevika freezes. she doesn’t know, and it’s not something she prefers to think about. dead is something she’d heavily considered, but that ending makes her too sad. as long as she doesn’t know that they’re dead, they’re not. at least not in her world.

she tells mel that she hopes they’re somewhere safe, somewhere that they can have fun together. like floating on a cloud, or living in outer space with the stars. maybe they are with the stars, and that’s why she loves them so much.

“you like the stars?” mel asks.

“that’s the only thing actually worth liking about this place, i think…” sevika slurs drunkenly.

“hmm, i guess they are pretty, aren’t they.” mel ponders.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

mel can’t help but giggle. again, everything she said is exactly right, but she’s never seen it that way. sevika offers her a fresh new perspective, one that makes her ponder how much she knows about the world.

“sorry…” sevika whispers, suddenly aware that she’s drunkenly blabbering and probably making a fool of herself. she tries to blink herself sober but it doesn’t work.

“no worries. i like them too.” mel soothes.

“i think i should go.”

“already?” mel asks.

“it’s gett’n late. i have places to be tomorrow…” sevika sighs. mel stands and walks her to the door, grabbing on gently to her human arm in an attempt to stabilize the woman. she offers a sweet smile to sevika as she leaves, even takes her hand in her own for a second and squeezes it tightly, but sevika just stares at the floor.

“mel?” she asks finally, although in a timid voice.

“yes?”

“thanks for sticking up for me. i don’t know what those pigs would get up to without people like me and you.”

mel’s heart warms at this. sevika is so drunk that she’s starting to get sappy and sweet, and while it’s adorable, it’s clear that she needs to get home. but she’s glad that her effort isn’t going unnoticed, and she’s starting to really like sevika.

“of course.” she smiles again. “get some sleep for me, okay? don’t spend too much time with the stars.”

sevika curses herself for the warm feeling that wraps herself all around her, she hates that she’s being vulnerable and making friends. she just blames the feeling on the alcohol, but she knows that it’s not. because that light, warm feeling clings itself to her every time she sees mel.

it happens again when they coincidentally cross paths, mel on her way outside for some fresh air and sevika on her way to her room to sign papers until her fingers bleed. but she realizes for the first time that mel is so beautiful. she hasn’t spotted sevika yet, but the sunlight glowing in from the windows catches her golden streaked skin perfectly, and she’s shining. it’s like she’s a real life star, and sevika can’t peel her eyes away.

“oh, hi sevika.” mel grins.

“um… hi.” she responds, her heart suddenly beating faster than usual. “where are you going?”

“just outside. been cramped up inside all day and the smell of my paints are starting to give me a headache.”

“you paint?” sevika asks, although to anyone else the answer would be obvious.

“yeah, all the time. i’d love to show you someday.” she offers, already knowing that she’s gonna have to drag sevika by the arm and force her to visit.

“okay… yeah, that would be nice.” she says.

“what are you doing right now?” mel asks.

“i just have a lot of paperwork to fill out, letters to write, things to sign, you know how it is.”

“will you stop by later, then?”

“are you gonna make me?”

“probably. if you don’t show up by yourself.”

“alright, see you later then.”

——

sevika is dreading this outing. the more times she thinks about going back over to mel’s, the more anxious she gets. every time she’s been over there the past month, she’s ended up either drunk or blabbering on about stuff that doesn’t matter. or worse— drunk and blabbering. she always finds some way to make a fool of herself, and she doesn’t know how to stop. she just wishes it wasn’t so easy to open up to her, wishes that mel wasn’t so damn likable.

mel already knows she’s gonna have to drag sevika over to come look at her paintings. she always does. no matter how many times she tells the woman to come on her own terms, she finds herself stomping down to sevika’s door and forcing her to hang out. it’s cute, in mel’s mind, it’s like a date. so that’s what she finds herself doing tonight. cleaning up her suite a little, spinning one of her jazz records, and marching down to collect sevika.

she’s arranged her paintings in no particular order, but the array is beautiful. some are framed, some are smaller than others, some of them aren’t even finished. sevika feels so moved by this. she’s never seen anything so beautiful. not anything in real life, not mel herself, not even the stars are as beautiful as her paintings.

mel sits her down on the loveseat, pouring two glasses of wine and sitting down next to sevika, but sevika begs her to talk about her paintings. she’s dying to know how anyone could make anything look more beautiful than the stars. mel blushes at that compliment— it’s a lot coming from sevika for multiple reasons— but she decides that now it’s her turn to open up.

they sit an chat for hours, and before long, sevika feels as if she knows mel like the back of her hand. she now knows about jayce and viktor and what happened to them, about ambessa, her mother, the noxians, and the rest of her family. sevika’s oddly surprised. of course, she’s aware that mel is probably the strongest woman she knows, but she never would’ve guessed that she’s been through that much.

mel cries a bit, and sevika cries too, and they laugh about their emotions like old friends. for once in her life, sevika feels like maybe not everything sucks, and that maybe it’s okay to let herself fall for someone. she just hopes that mel feels the same way.

“sevika?” mel asks, still catching her breath after a fit of giggles.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“will you dance with me?”

“i don’t dance.” sevika says, laughing at the image of her dancing with someone. how silly.

“aww, come on! it’s just us and some jazz! you’ll be fine.” she reasons. “please?”

sevika rolls her eyes at mel’s outstretched hand, but she’s very tipsy and in a good mood, so how could she say no to the beautiful woman standing in front of her?

mel yanks her up by her arm, and sevika wastes no time following after her to the middle of the room where the big sky lights let the stars shine in. sevika scowls and tenses up a bit, but mel wraps her arms around sevika’s waist so gently, guiding sevika’s arm to press against her back. mel sways them back and forth a bit, and sevika soon loosens up and stares down at mel with a smile that puts all of the stars to shame.

“do you ever miss your arm?” mel asks.

“yeah, sometimes. i miss the one jinx made for me, i wish i didn’t take it for granted.” she responds, her mood quickly turning sad against her will.

“i could have one made for you.” mel offers.

sevika shakes her head and flattens her lips into a straight line. “they won’t let me have one on the council.”

it’s mel’s turn to roll her eyes now. “no, i’ll make you one that they’ll accept. they always listen to me, you know.” she grins.

“i guess that would be alright, as long as it’s not much of a hassle.”

“for you? nothing’s a hassle. don’t be silly.”

sevika’s eyebrows pull together in the middle and she pouts, tears quickly filling her eyes. nobody’s ever been this nice to her before. offering her a new limb, protection from the ruthless comments from the council, good wine, and a dance underneath the stars. she can’t help but cry, but she’s not afraid to anymore. with mel, she feels safe enough to be this vulnerable.

mel notices her sad expression, and she silently prays that she didn’t accidentally offend sevika, it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna do. “oh, what’s wrong? did i—”

sevika cuts her off with a kiss. she doesn’t wanna hear any apologies from mel, not after she’s been a literal angel to sevika this past week. mel’s lips are warm and welcoming, they taste sweet, like if gold was a flavor. she reaches her hands up and cradles the back of mel’s head, deepening the kiss.

mel is completely taken aback by this. she didn’t know that sevika had feelings for her. actually, she thought that sevika was sick of her. but she kisses sevika back, her lips are big and pouty and oh so soft. she also gets to feel sevika’s piercing up close, and the cold metal drags against the bottom of her lips ever so slightly. it’s a stark contrast, but a comforting one at that.

one thing leads to another, and they’re quickly back on the loveseat, lapping at each others tongues and giggling like kids and holding hands. sevika’s had tons of sex before, sure, but nothing comes close to this. she feels so special, so cared for, that she notices this strange, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

little does she know, that feeling is called love.

she pins mel down to the seat, both of them breathless and high on this mysterious feeling— although it definitely has something to do with the liquor— and sevika almost cries again when mel spreads her legs beneath her white gown. the warm lamplight mixed with the starlight causes her to glow again, like she’s on fire, so sevika can’t help but kiss all over the gold patterns that paint her skin.

mel erupts into another fit of giggles, holding sevika’s shocked face in her hands. sevika tenses up slightly at her touch, but takes a deep breath and swallows all of her anxiety.

“can i?” sevika asks.

mel smiles and nods. “of course. you can do whatever you want to me.”

sevika shudders and reaches up mel’s dress, caressing her stomach and hips. mel is soft and malleable under her touch, and she’s golden. she reaches forward to tug her dress above her hips. sevika doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a beautiful sight, and mel absolutely adores sevika’s awestruck face.

the same golden markings that paint her face also trail down her abdomen, all the way to her ankles. there are thick streaks of gold that mirror each other on each side of her torso, twisting themselves into swirls and shapes. she also has small golden freckles littering her body, identical to the ones on her face. they look like stars.

best of all, as if sevika wasn’t already turned on enough, she has small, golden hairs that trail down from just beneath her belly button, only stopping when they crown her dripping hole. this woman is made of pure magic, and if sevika doesn’t get her mouth on her within the next millisecond, she thinks she might faint.

mel grabs sevika’s hand when she notices her hesitation, and this makes her snap back into the moment and start eating mel out. she starts slow, just some teasing, soft licks to her clit that make her shiver. mel moans so sweetly and beautifully and sevika feels like she’s floating.

sevika grips mel’s hand harder and harder as she keeps eating her out, and it’s times like these that she wishes she has two hands. one to hold mel’s with, and one to feel inside of her, pumping her full of her thick fingers. mel arches her back and thrusts up into sevika’s face, and they both nearly cum on the spot.

she pulls back for a second, a string of white slick connecting itself to sevika’s lips before dripping down her chin.

“sev, you’re doing so good, baby.” mel praises. “don’t stop, i’m so close.”

sevika speeds up her movements, determined to make mel cum. her big, silver eyes squeeze shut as her mouth works it’s magic, sucking on her clit and running her pointed tongue between mel’s folds to collect her slick.

but she doesn’t cum until sevika wraps her lips around her clit again, her piercing colliding with mel’s throbbing clit as she tips over the edge. a low whine is pulled from her throat, and sevika pulls back to admire the woman above her. mel yanks sevika up by her shirt, thanking her with a deep kiss. some of sevika’s lipstick is smudged, so mel wipes it off with her thumbs, as well as the wet slick that’s smeared all over her face.

sevika is suddenly very aware that she doesn’t need shimmer anymore, because she feels like mel’s sweet nectar is enough to get her high.

“i’m gonna need that new arm as soon as you can get it.” sevika says with her lips smashed against mel’s. “need to show you what else i can do.”

——

it’s been three weeks since then, and sevika’s been coming over every night. she still has lots of work to do, but mel helps her with all of it. they sort through tall stacks of paperwork, taking turns sitting on the others lap and pouring each other more wine. sometimes they get distracted with sex, but they try their hardest to stay focused. occasionally mel will bring out her paints and work on something new, forcing sevika to stay focused while she’s at work.

they also spend their mornings together. if they don’t wake up in the other’s arms, they’ll sleepily march down to their door and bang on it until they reunite and hold each other again.

but this morning, sevika wakes up in mel’s bed alone. she reaches out for the woman with her arm, but that side of the bed is just cold and empty. sitting up, she glances around the room until she spies mel in her silky white cloak painting on the balcony.

“mel?” she asks groggily. “why’re you up so early?”

“just had to finish something, love.” she responds, smiling at her girlfriend’s half awake state. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“can i at least see what you’re working on?”

“not yet.” she smiles. “it’s a surprise.”

sevika groans and turns around to go back inside, but mel catches her arm and yanks her back for a kiss. sevika kisses over each of mel’s golden freckles, and then her lips, then her nose, her forehead, chin, and then lips again, before returning inside. mel giggles and tries to swat sevika’s back before she gets away, but she’s too slow and the effort is wasted.

back inside, sevika grabs onto mel’s pillow and stuffs her face into it, bringing a familiar comfort that lulls her back to sleep. she’s shaken awake a few hours later, though. it’s mel, very gently rattling sevika’s shoulder while caressing her hair. “sevika, babe, wake up.” she whispers.

“mmmmh?”

“i have a present for you.”

“hmmmm?”

“wake up so you can open it.”

“ughhhhh.”

“oh, please. don’t be so pouty. i want you to see it! quickly, quickly!” she urges, yanking sevika back to the balcony. the sun is slightly higher in the sky now, some of the orange in the sky is still fading away but the sky is painted in a light yellow color, it matches mel a little bit.

she hands her a giant white box with mel’s name on it, a small golden bow sitting directly on the top. “what is this?” sevika asks.

“open it and see!” mel smiles.

so she does. she flips the lock on the box and pulls it open, a smooth, golden arm staring back at her.

“what is this?” sevika asks again, this time in disbelief. she couldn’t tell how serious mel was about acquiring a new arm for her, so she didn’t think she’d be receiving a new one this quickly, or one this pretty.

it’s a lot more modern compared to her other two arms that she’s had in the past. it has a matte gold casing all around it, with shimmery gold patterns that resemble mel’s carved into it. it has all five fingers, but they’re not as pointy, more resembling her human fingers than her past arms. sevika is overcome with emotions, and she turns around to pull mel in for a hug, hiding her tears on her shoulder.

“do you like it?” mel asks.

“i love it.”

“will you teach me how to put it on you?”

“of course.” sevika promises, and with that, mel tugs her inside and makes her sit and show her. it takes a bit of fumbling. sevika isn’t great at explaining things, but she also can’t do much with only one arm, so lots of trial and error occurs during the process. but eventually it’s all screwed in, and the first thing sevika does is pull mel in for a real hug.

mel never really realized how strong sevika is, and how crushing her hugs are. at least, not until now. she knows that sevika can hold her somewhat tightly, but one arm doesn’t do much. now that she as two arms though, mel is struggling to breathe with the way sevika is crushing her. or maybe it’s just because sevika wants to show her girlfriend some love. and she’s definitely not crying.

“i have one more thing.” mel says, although most of it gets muffled by sevika’s chest.

“what is it?” she asks.

“come outside and look.”

sevika follows her outside, grabbing onto mel’s elbow with her new hand.

“close your eyes.” mel says, so sevika squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest not to peek. mel dashes over to retrieve the painting on her canvas that’s now fully dry, and then she holds it to face sevika.

“okay, now open them.”

she opens her eyes to see mel holding one of her new paintings— the one she wasn’t allowed to see yet. but now she’s aware of why she wasn’t allowed to see it, because the painting is of her.

it’s sevika. hunched over at mel’s desk with her reading glasses on and a pen in her hand, a glass of wine half empty on the table next to her. the colors in the painting are very warm, likely resembling the warm lamps that decorate mel’s suite. and the most surprising thing— there’s a smile on sevika’s face.

it’s not something she’s ever seen on herself before. for one, she’s never been one to smile in general, it’s just not something she was ever used to doing. photographs are also very rare in zaun, so the only way she could’ve seen it on herself is by smiling in front of a mirror, which is even more rare.

sevika doesn’t even know how to feel. she should cry, because nobody has ever been this kind to her before, and she’s overwhelmed with emotions from the arm, the painting, and just being around mel.

she should also be happy. nobody has ever understood her as much as mel does, and she feels so honored to be seen in her artistic lense. she should be glad that she gets to live up here, where everything is safe and pretty and valuable. she’s also still half asleep, and can’t exactly tell if she’s dreaming or not.

“what do you think?” mel asks after a while.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve this.” sevika says honestly. “is there some kind of special occasion that i don’t know about? or are you just spoiling me.”

“well, mostly the latter,” mel laughs. “but it is our one month anniversary, if that counts for anything.”

“i didn’t get you anything.” sevika frowns, suddenly feeling way out of mel’s league, almost insecure.

“that’s alright.” mel smiles. “your presence is enough.”

sevika rolls her eyes and manages a smile too, yanking mel forward and giving her a sweet kiss. one month isn’t much, but it’s been the happiest month of sevika’s life, and things are starting to look up for her. for zaun, too.

“well,” mel starts, pulling away from sevika’s lips. “there is one small thing you could do for me.”

“and that is…?”

“model for me so i can paint you?” she asks with a happy shrug of her shoulders.

“now? but you just painted me.”

“yes, i’m aware.” she laughs. “but i haven’t painted your new arm yet, and that was from a few days ago but you just look so adorable today. please?”

sevika smiles too. how could she say no to mel when she asks so nicely? “alright, fine.” she agrees.

“good, and take all of your clothes off, too.”

sevika freezes. although mel has seen her naked hundreds of times, she suddenly feels shy.

“don’t worry, it’s just for us.” mel soothes. “lay on the bed and i’ll position you.”

so sevika is left no choice but to follow the orders she was given. she strips herself of her clothes— which is much easier now that she has two arms— and lays down on the bed, looking up at mel with her big, watery eyes. mel walks over and pushes her backward until she’s propped up with just one elbow.

“is this comfortable?” mel asks.

“uh… y-yeah.” sevika responds.

mel pries sevika’s legs open, positioning them apart so that she has a full view of sevika’s dripping cunt from her easel. sevika whimpers, her eyes widening and sparkling as she looks up at mel.

“don’t be shy.” mel teases. “it’s just me.”

“i know, sorry…” sevika says with a sigh, making a mental note to loosen up.

“are you ready for me to start? we’re probably gonna be here all day.”

“yeah. ready.” sevika responds.

“okay, let me know if you need a break.”

mel isn’t too fond of painting from models, but she can feel her opinion changing as she sculpts sevika with the paint. her legs are easy. long and thick, and she gets to mimic the way they’re pressed open.

her torso is next, which is one of her favorite things about sevika. her abs are hard and sturdy, but they get slightly softened out by the rolls of her stomach. then mel moves up to her tits, painting two perfectly pointed brown circles accented with thick, dark nipples.

her neck comes after, and then her arms, and finally her face. mel has memorized every little expression sevika has, so she has a lot to choose from, but she chooses the one that sevika is wearing right now. a goofy, lovestruck smile, adorned with a slight blush sparkling on her cheeks.

her eyes are also fun, they’re so big and sparkly and metallic, mel can’t help but paint stars in them. and of course, her nose, her tooth gap, her piercing, and her hair. they all come together to make up the most perfect face that mel has ever seen.

she moves on to the arms next, painting one with her thick muscles and her warm brown skin, and the other with a shiny gold. her shoulders are slightly slanted, and they have bite marks and hickeys carved into them, which makes mel immensely proud of herself.

and finally, sevika’s glistening cunt. she paints each fold tenderly, a small circle at the top covered slightly by a thin, fleshy hood. she paints the slick in between her thighs that just keeps collecting with her finest white and silver paints.

and of course, her bush, because she wouldn’t dare to forget it. she curls each stroke of her brush until it perfectly mirrors sevika’s thick, dark curls, and then she trails them all the way up her lower stomach.

she finishes the background next, but it’s not much. she doesn’t want anything to take away from sevika’s beauty. but she makes sure to add a few stars surrounding her of various sizes and shades of gold.

sevika has been surprisingly patient throughout the whole thing, mel predicted that she’d be begging for snacks only ten minutes in. but mel finishes quickly and she’s beaming with excitement as soon as she’s done.

“do you wanna see it?” she asks.

“you’re done already?” sevika replies.

“yeah. you’re an easy model.”

“okay, yeah, let me see.” sevika smiles.

mel lifts up the canvas and presents it to sevika, and it’s somehow even more beautiful than the other painting. mel captures her so beautifully, sevika is so honored to be viewed that way. for the first time in her life, she truly feels beautiful. and mel can tell that she feels that way too, through the tears that threaten to spill in her eyes.

and just as sevika is about to tackle mel to the bed too, she notices something in the bottom corner. in a shimmery gold writing, the words “my star. -mel m.” are painted. sevika looks up at mel with a questioning glance and asks, “what’s that?”

“it’s my signature. the title of the painting and my name.”

“‘my star’?” sevika reads off.

“yeah, because that’s what you are. you’re my star, sevika. you’re so beautiful and bright.”

and those words echo in sevika’s mind for the rest of time, especially when sevika pins mel down and rides her face into the pillow a few seconds later. she’s right. she is mel’s star, isn’t she.

[berryblosom]

ATTENTION * ˚ ✦ Reader x jealous!Satoru

Summary: Megumi is coming down with a cold and Satoru hates the attention you’re giving him.

A-note: I’m in such a slump lately, so here’s one of the many in my drafts :(

“Here sweet pea, take this and drink it all.” You carefully hand Megumi the cup of tea you brewed up for him. The poor thing came down with a nasty cold and can barely keep his eyes open, so you’re doing everything you can to make him feel better. Some would think of this as a loving gesture and would give praise but for your boyfriend it’s the last thing he would do.

You’ve noticed ever since Megumi came back from school with a cough that Satoru has been giving the two of you the stink eye, he lurks behind doors and stands in corners of the room scowling at Megumi. Every where you turn he’s there giving you strange looks and then walking away without a word when you catch him. You knew he was werid when you first met him but maybe he’s finally loosing his mind.

“Satoru would you stop that.” You knew he was behind you so you didn’t bother turning around but you could basically feel the daggers he was shooting into your back.

“I’m not doing anything- I mean I’m not talking to you.” He grumbles with his arms crossed.

“Oh no, whos going to talk my ear off now?” You dramatically turned and feigned an distraught look. Megumi giggles from the couch which earns him a glare from your boyfriend.

“This is bullying you know!” With one last angry look at the two of you Satoru storms off to your room. Megumi breaks out in a fit of laughter but you smile knowing that a laugh from you would just set Satoru off even more.

“I’ll go check on him.” You leave the kitchen and follow Satoru into your bedroom. You found him faced down on the bed, his face buried in his pillow.

climbing onto the bed you lay down next to him. “Do you wanna tell me what that was?” He turns his head slightly so you could see his blue eyes but he said nothing.

“You know if I didn’t know better I’d say your jealous of little Megs out there.” You raise your eyebrows in question, you knew you were right but wanted Satoru to admit it himself.

“I’m not jealous of that shrimp.” He mumbles and you stifle a laugh.

“Satoru look at me please.” It takes him a couple seconds but he finally turns his head to look at you fully. His infamous “Im mad at you” pout was as clear as day on his lip but you just found it adorable.

“I am not jealous, he’s a little shit that need to give me back my girl.” You laugh and Satoru perks up at this, if there’s anything that could make him feel better is knowing he made you laugh.

“He’s sick Toru and he’s seven. He needs someone to take care of him.” Satoru sits up and pulls you up with him.

“I’m sick too (a lie) but you haven’t even given me so much as a kiss for five whole days.” He waved his slender hand in you face, as if that made is point more believable.

Megumi has only been sick for one day but your boyfriend had a flare for the dramatic. Satoru clearly wasn’t going to let this go until you did something about so without warning you climb into his lap and wrap you arms around him.

“My poor baby, what can I do to make you feel better hmm?” Satoru reacts to your touch instantly, his eyes follow your every word and it was vey clear what he wanted.

You cup his face and lean slightly forward, your lips linger infront of his teasing him slightly until you hear a quiet whine escape him.

You kiss him softly with your fingertips running through his hair but Satoru needed more. He grabs your legs wrapping them around his torso, you were much closer now and he could kiss how he wanted to.

“Mhm Megumi is in the living room, slow down.” Satoru doesn’t listen, continuing to caress your skin and press sloppy kisses on your neck. He captures your lips again this time managing to push his tongue past your mouth. Satoru has always been a good kisser especially when he hasn’t kissed you for a long time. He finally lets you go to catch your breath. You watch him rest his head on your chest and nuzzles into you.

“I’m your one and only right.” Blue eyes gaze up at you with hope swimming in them. You loved Satoru more than anything and found it amusing he thought your love for him was being threatened by a sickly seven year old. But to ease his mind you’d tell him over and over if you have to.

“You’re my one and only, my sweet baby that I love very much.” His signature giddy smile returns to his face so you thought this was the best time to check up on Megumi.

Satoru notices your attempt to leave and locks you with his arms. “Where are you going?”

“To give Megs his soup, there’s still a sick child in the house remember.” He looks hesitant to let you go but knew he really had no choice.

“You’ll come back to me right?” You smile and peck his forehead

“Of course.”

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Spencer Blurb!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 500

A/N: I am in the trenches with finals rn so I needed something positive to think about as well as a distraction from what I should be doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m starting to realize why people commit murder.” You grumbled to yourself. 

Honestly, you were a sight to see. You had claimed the living room of your apartment with Spencer and books were everywhere. Your laptop was front and center and papers were scattered about as if a storm had come through. 

Spencer peeked his head out of your bedroom, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, what.” 

The frustrated sigh that left your lips almost knocked the curiosity right out of him. 

“It’s just…” 

Spencer had met you in the Boston Public Library, where you had been writing a paper for one of your classes, and you couldn’t find the statistics you needed. Enter Lover Boy with all your answers. He was only nineteen, completing his third Bachelors over at MIT and you were a sophomore over at Harvard, studying psychology. You were slated to graduate a whole year early, but it wasn’t your intellect that drew Spencer to you, it was your charm, the way you spoke your mind. 

You said anything and everything to him, and he wanted to listen to every single thing you said. You started dating six months later. You ended up following him down to DC a little while after that, and supported him while he completed his first Doctorate. You loved living with him, even when his life got hectic, even when he decided he wanted to go fight crime for a living. 

So when six years later, you’re working on your Ph.D at Georgetown, and you said you understood why people murdered others, Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to keep listening. 

“Just what.” He walked over and sat down next to you, taking into account the four cups of coffee, three mugs of tea, a banana, two empty Panera bags, and a myriad of gum wrappers. “When’s the last time you left the apartment?” 

“Like a week ago, when I wasn’t trying to finish my fucking draft of my dissertation. I don’t know how the fuck you did this Spence.” 

Spencer kissed your head and took your hand. “Why don’t you go to the library or something. Get out of here for a bit. Go on a walk.” 

“I’d go to the library if you came with me.” You smirked a little bit as you fixed his tie, causing his cheeks to blush at the memories you were reminding him off. 

“Thats–that’s not what I meant.” 

“That’s why I suggested it.” You kissed his cheek, and looked back at your laptop, the moment of joy on your face disappearing. “Can’t you take the day off Spence?” 

He started to shake his head, but then saw just how exhausted and overworked you were. “I—give me a minute.” 

Spencer kissed your head and went into the bedroom, where you heard him make a call to Hotch, claiming he needed the sick day. 

You smiled and started to clean up your space, excited to spend the day away from your work, and with your favorite person.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Downed

A/N: I got the cut scene of Astarion imitating Halsin in the middle of drafting a drabble, and this is the result. Please enjoy. Tags: Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Half-drow!Reader, gender neutral reader, BG3, TDU!Reader, BG3 Astarion WARNINGS: hallucinations, canon-typical violence. Summary: You get hit by a fear spell while in the Underdark and hallucinate shadows in anticipation of fighting the Shadow Curse, Astarion is angry and it's all Halsin's fault. Apparently.

Word count: 1.6k+

(GIF Credit to @iplann)

All Astarion remembered was seeing you go down. 

It was an ambush by two rogue Duergar as you crept through the Underdark. Originally, the pair of you had been on an unimportant quest for you to retrieve some bioluminescent mushrooms to make lanterns; Astarion doesn’t understand the appeal but is also unable to say no to any of your requests. 

He regrets being a pushover at that moment, as it’s landed you both in this one.

After you fell, he had lunged across the field and sunk his teeth into the neck of the Duergar casting spells. He refuses to provide the sorcerer a painless death by draining, instead tearing at the flesh with his teeth. A sick gurgling echoes through the grassy hollow you’d been attacked in, and Astarion releases the dwarf. He stumbles for a moment, clutching at the missing area of flesh on his neck before falling face first into the grass. 

The other blue-skinned creature freezes at the realization they're fighting a vampire, and Astarion wastes exactly zero time thrusting a rapier directly into her heart.

The vampire instantly changes pace from attack to healing as he dashes towards you and leaves the bodies behind. You’re laid out a few metres away, curled into the fetal position and muttering nonsensical words into the humid air. A putrid green film coats your armor, and Astarion wrinkles his nose at the spell. 

“Tav, can you hear me?”

Your eyes find him, familiar but distant and darting about all over the cavern. Astarion recognizes the after effects of a Fear spell, and the Ray of Sickness’ grotesque slime. He was fairly certain the sorcerer had struck you with a bout of sickness while you were paralyzed by fear, hallucinating figures of great evil and unstoppable power. 

“...’starion?” 

“Fortunately for you, yes.” He quips, trying not to let his voice quiver. “If only I was a Cleric.”

Your eyes search his face, landing quickly on his mouth. Astarion freezes as you tense. “V-Vampire.”

His first instinct is to frown, concealing his fangs from your warped mental state. “All the better to keep you safe. Now come on, we need to make haste back to camp so our resident Cleric-”

You clutch at his collar, a wheeze escaping you. Your frenzied eyes have moved away from his fangs to something in the distance, apparently deciding he was less of a threat. “It’s coming. ‘Starion, please, please, get me out of here.”

Astarion recognizes the delusional panic lacing your voice and chooses to hush you softly instead of turning around. He’s determined not to feed the plague gnawing at your mind, and not to let it invade his. You’re the first thing that’s motivated him, loved him for two centuries and he is terrified to see you in such a state. Every other wound has been bandaged or healed shortly thereafter by Shadowheart, but this is different. He couldn’t cover this with gauze, and nothing in his repertoire includes healing of the mind. Rest and comfort will be the best cure for you. 

“It’s a spell, darling.” He coaxes you into looking back at him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

There’s no stopping the feral gleam in your gaze and Astarion knows you need to get somewhere safe to rest, to be rid of this ailment. He ignores the stink of your gear and scoops you into his arms, immediately angered by the tremors wracking your body. Your arms wrap tight around his statuesque neck and shoulders. 

“They’re everywhere.” You whimper into his collar, pointing towards the Duergar’s bodies. 

Curiosity gets the best of him. “What’s everywhere?” 

“The sh-shadows.” You manage, fingers swiping through half-dried blood on his face. “They’re coming.”

Astarion curses Halsin under his breath. The camp’s talks of making it through the Shadow-Cursed lands had been a hot topic as of late, brought to them by Halsin’s tales of suffocating darkness and misery. It was true you had to navigate through them, but Astarion had his own qualms with wasting their time trying to fix it in order to please the Druid. Especially since said Druid had been eyeing you up as if he were starving each time you saunter across camp.

“There’s too many of your glowing mushrooms here to be any threatening shadows, dear.”

Astarion trudges further into the hollow, finding a small secluded cove to one side. It’s as if the Gods were anticipating someone making a camp out of it - the small opening is no more than a metre wide, and damp lichen hangs in wisps from overhead. Fungi of numerous colors and brightness glow around you both, and there’s a moment of worry that they've stumbled into a transportation circle. The last thing he needs is to be unwittingly thrust to the surface in the Hag’s putrid swamp or a Gnoll’s den. A few fleeting taps with his toes stir no magic in the foliage, and Astarion feels comfortable enough to set you down.

He digs through both your backpacks for supplies, coming up with two bedrolls and enough wood to stack for a half-ass campfire. It takes only a couple minutes  to get your outer layer of clothes off and your body settled on a bedroll before Astarion moves onto the fire. 

Dancing flames have your rapt attention when they spring up from the wood. “No shadows.”

The child-like tone you carry in your confusion tugs at Astarion’s dead heart. “Correct, my sweet. No shadows here. Just a vampire and a very, very confused monk.”

You seem to settle in between bouts of coughing. Astarion sheds his armor to lessen the smell of sickness and looks through his pack once again, coming up empty for any elixir to remedy your fear. He instead stands to peek out of your makeshift camp, confident that as you settle your condition may improve. 

“N-No!” You burst out into a fit as the vampire moves away, one hand clutching his boot. “You can’t leave me here.”

Any intention of looking out is forgotten as you begin to cry. Astarion hushes you like a scared animal, pulling the bed rolls together and joining you on the floor. He indulges you in a rare moment of gentility, pulling you into his side and whispering into your hair. These moments back at camp are rare, saved for when your mates are asleep or out of sight. 

It isn’t until you pull away from the crook of his neck that he notices your eyes are sharper, no longer darting about or hazed over with artificial fear. Despite this, tears still leak from them. 

“Tav? Are you all right?”

You sniff softly. “I’m so tired, Astarion. And I feel terrified… like something’s watching me. But something in me knows it’s not real.”

He nods, tongue running along his fangs. “Damned sorcerer that ambushed us struck you with a Fear spell.”

“I had a dream that we were near Moonrise Towers.” You flounder for a moment, “There were shadows everywhere.” 

“Not a dream, I’m afraid. More a hallucination than anything.” Astarion explains, “A real drag to bring along after the fight, you were.”

His teasing is welcome, chasing away the worst tendrils of darkness licking at your mind. “Cheeky… But I’ve never taken the blow from a Fear spell before. This is awful.”

Astarion can tell your mind is still fearful despite breaking through the confusion, parasite reaching out to his in flashes of white hot panic and terror. Your heart is racing, the ever-so-tempting vein in your neck throbbing in sync. It’s a juxtaposition against your determined face, trying so hard to remain strong. 

“Afraid so… I’ll be speaking with Halsin about his persistence in this shadow curse solution. No need for it to plague you like this. Especially seeing as we haven’t even trudged our way through the Underdark yet.” Astarion’s voice is sharp and surprisingly protective. 

“Astarion, I do feel obligated-”

“You should feel obligated to do nothing. You already play peacemaker for these morons, no need for them to dump all their hopes and dreams on you. Especially when your mind uses them to terrify you.”

A weak chuckle escapes you, and your fingers toy with the fabric of his undershirt. “I think the effects of the spell were to blame for my terror.”

“The effects of the spell are determined by the worries in your mind. In other words, the man of the forest can take them all elsewhere.”

You snort at his distaste towards Halsin, as it’s not the first time you’ve noticed. 

A particularly loud drip of water somewhere in the hollow causes you to jolt into Astarion, adrenaline still coursing like fire through your body. “Gods. How long am I going to feel like a mouse?”

Astarion grips you a little tighter, “Until you rest, most likely.”

“Are you going to meditate?” You ask, curling into his side. 

“I’ll be keeping watch. You need to sleep. Heal your mind from this wretched curse.” Astarion’s words are a little too aggressive, his own nervous mind still concerned for your wellbeing above all else. 

You’re familiar with the tone, and can only smile softly at the vampire’s inability to express concern without placing blame. Perhaps all this talk of a Shadow Curse had caused you to be plagued by such figures in the depths of the spell, but you don’t place blame on Halsin. 

Though, you were certain Astarion would never see it that way. 

He’s taken a moment to relax now, laying on his back with an arm behind his head. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked over his. Astarion’s other hand traces patterns onto yours, lazy circles that lull your mind into a quiet sense of security. The terror subsides ever so slowly, intensity halved while lying in his arms. 

“Astarion?”

“Hm?” 

“I’m okay, you know.”

A huff answers, and a brief rush of words. “I’m still blaming the Druid.”

“Of course you are.”

_______________________________________

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[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 8

WE ARE FUCKING BACK! (I immediately started hacking my lungs after typing this, I'm sick :P)

To make a long story short, for the past few months I've either been really busy, really depressed, and usually both. Also for some reason chapter 8 was already hard to write and I don't know why.

ALSO before we get into the fic, @your-local-furby drew some absolutely lovely fanart of MC apologizing and seeing the library from the previous two chapters. I think it finally kicked my brain back into gear lmao.

Without further ado, please enjoy!

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

It feels like the ground beneath me is sucking me in.

I feel myself sinking,

I wish the ground would swallow me whole.

Embarrassment washes over me and swallows me whole. I feel the air leave my chest I want to break free but I feel like I’m drowning. 

You take the page you’re scribbling your notes on and crumple it into a ball. You’ve reread your rough draft and decided the arranged wedding scene you had planned wasn’t tragic enough. The blind musician is tasked with performing for the prince’s wedding, but his heartbreak causes him to mess up his performance, which causes everyone to notice he’s crying, including the prince. You’re trying to convey the feeling of knowing every single person in the room is watching you during the lowest point in your life, but it’s just not coming together in a way you like. You’ll run it by Alik later.

Technically, Alik is no longer your editor as a result of your deal with the Yae Publishing House. Still, they’re one of your few friends, and their workload has lightened since your previous publisher terminated all of those other book deals. Now they’re acting as your beta reader before you send off the next draft to the editor at the Yae Publishing House. It’s actually making progress go a lot faster, so much so you might only need one final draft of the whole story before it’s finally published, as opposed to multiple drafts. 

I do not need sight to know everyone in the room is looking at me. I feel it in my broken notes that trail into nothingness. I feel it in the resulting silence. I feel it in the quiet murmur spreading through the room.

I feel tears in my eyes as I drop my head down, praying no one sees me crying. If I could, I would sprint out of the room, out of the palace, so no one is witness to my heartbroken embarrassment. I’d run so fast, the prince would have no time to chase after me. It would be for the best anyways. He deserves his perfect and beautiful bride, and I am no bride, I cannot verify if I am beautiful, and in this moment, I could not feel anymore flawed as a person and human. 

A knock on your door breaks your concentration. You’re dreading whatever is on the other side, but know it’s better to get this over with. 

“Yes?”

The door opens, and your mother pokes her head in through the gap. She offers a smile. “We have company. Come say hi, please.”

“I’m… kind of in the middle of something,” you reply, “and I’ve told you that I’m going to see Alik when I’m done writing.”

“How is she, by the way?”

“They’re fine.”

“And Maria? How’s she?”

“She’s alright, I think. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Well, tell them both I say hello. Anyways, if you have a minute, I would like you to come downstairs. There’s someone I’d like you to talk to.”

It takes you a moment to recognize what this is, mostly because it’s been a while since she tried pulling this off. When you realize what’s happening, you just shake your head and look at your mother. “Which family friend is this?”

She gives you a very unconvincing look of confusion. “My dear, what do you mean?”

“Mother, please.”

“... Ana. Anastasia.”

Anastasia is your younger sister Adéla’s friend. Much like your sister, she’s only a year younger than you, but unlike your sister, she actually likes you. Adéla and you have butted heads throughout your lives, as siblings tend to do and especially with such a small age gap, but Adéla has taken it a step further saying that it’s your fault her childhood was so “miserable” as she puts it. She claims that your diagnosis made you the centre of your parents’ attention until your youngest sister was born, and then they focused more on her than Adéla. Conveniently, she’s never had any sisterly drama with her, only you. You feel for her, but there was only so much you could do at the time, seeing as you were eight years old.

“Absolutely not,” you tell your mother.

“But you two got along so well when she would visit,” your mother insists, “and she’s become a fine young lady since the two of you last spoke! Don’t you remember reading together when you two were little?”

“I’m sure she’s beautiful,” you say, “but Adéla will throw a fit if she finds out you set me up with one of her friends.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And I don’t want to find out,” you tell her, “and I told you I don’t like being set up on dates.”

Your mother lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I want to make sure my son is happy, healthy, and I want him to find someone he can settle down with. Your brother was already married at your age, and Adéla’s going to be having another baby soon.”

“Yes, but I’m not Pavel or Adéla,” you say, “the dating scene is different for me, and playing matchmaker isn’t going to make me feel any better or help me.”

Your mother just looks at you. That sad, pitiful look you know all too well. It stopped pulling on your heartstrings long ago, but sometimes it’s just easier to indulge her than it is to fight her on it. Besides, she means well, you think, it just can’t be helped that she doesn’t know her son has no interest in women.

You sigh, and stand up, much to your mother’s delight. “I’ll say hi, and that’s it.”

She grins, and she motions for you to follow her.

----

“... and she just happens to be single, too.”

Alik sets their glass down. “Interesting. So when’s the wedding?”

“It’s not happening,” you reply, “thank the Tsaritsa for that.”

“I’m honestly surprised your parents haven’t put you in an arranged marriage yet,” Alik comments.

“How many viable marriage candidates do you think there are that would be thrilled to marry someone who’s not only going blind, but could pass it on to their children as well?”

“Depends on how much the family is getting paid.”

“And it would not be much.”

The tavern is surprisingly quiet tonight. You chalk it up to it being the middle of the work week, not as many patrons willing to get drunk if they have work early in the morning. Currently, you and Alik are sitting at a table in the corner of the room while a few older patrons mill about, chattering on about their own lives at the bar. It’s actually rather nice, you think.

“What would they try to sell your bride to be on?” Alik asks.

“Um…” You look into your half drunk glass, trying to think of something funny. You clear your throat, straighten your posture, and put on your best business smile. “Here’s a fine young man who has no real work skills, and it’s not like they would do him any good since he’s considered legally blind and has between thirteen and fifteen years before he is fully blind. His only profitable skill is writing, though he doesn’t make enough to support a household. His blindness is also genetic!”

“By the Archons, at least say one nice thing about yourself,” Alik teases, though there’s a subtle sincerity to their words.

“I think I’m decent,” you say, “I think I might even make an okay husband, but I don’t think I’d be the kind of husband Pavel or my father are.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Alik replies, “there are plenty of families and couples where the husband isn’t always a provider. Besides, you’re not really a ladies man to begin with.”

You shake your head. “It’s not even that, it’s just… you know I try not to make a big deal of me going blind, but it’d be naïve of me to pretend that it’s not, and especially if I was in a relationship. Whether I like it or not, whoever I marry is going to inevitably become my caretaker. There will come a day where I’m going to need help, and I’ll rarely be able to return that favour.”

“That’s why it’s in sickness and in health,” Alik comments. They reach across the table and take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a good house husband, before and after you start seeing the world how Maria does.”

Maria is Alik’s cousin, and one of your few very close friends. She has been a big help to you in writing your book as her blindness is similar to the main character’s. While he was born blind, she actually had vision when she was born. Unfortunately, she suffered a very severe head injury when she was very young. She has little to no memory of her life before she lost her sight as a result, as well as having some developmental problems growing up. These days she’s doing much better, though her eyesight is still gone. At most, she can detect if there’s light, but that’s the extent of it. 

“Do you have permission to make jokes about her being blind?” you ask.

“I not only have permission, but that’s not even the worst joke I’ve gotten away with.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“For the best.”

Your table goes quiet as you and Alik take a moment to drink. You try not to cringe at the taste of whatever the hell Alik recommended you try. It’s a beer, and you can taste that, but it’s a lot more bitter than you like. Still, they bought it for you, it would be rude to spit it out.

“You don’t have to drink that, you know.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I’ll get used to it.”

You see a smile twitch onto Alik’s lips, and even if they try to hide it, you can see a shit eating grin from miles away. 

“Okay,” you say, “out with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You thought of something terrible, I want to hear it.”

Alik glances around the room, assessing how audible their comment would be. You take a sip of your drink, and they grin.

They lean in. “I’m sure Pantalone would be happy to hear that.”

You immediately sputter, spraying Alik in the face. They yell, swiping at their face as if they were sprayed with acid. You cough as what was left in your mouth goes down the wrong pipe. “Fuck, w-why’d I take a drink–”

“Did you have to spit that in my face?” Alik asks.

“Shut up,” you wheeze out. You give one more hearty cough, your throat and chest burning, and you can breathe again. You sit up, rubbing your chest through your shirt while Alik wipes their face and the table with napkins. You look around, and see the few patrons staring at your table. You painfully chuckle, and turn back to your friend. “S-Sorry, I should know better by now.”

Alik shrugs. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“I told you that in confidence,” you whisper.

“You actually told me before the tea party,” Alik tells you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s starting to show in your book.”

You feel your face flush, and you narrow your eyes. “I think I would know if I was writing about him, thank you.”

“The prince was a lot more arrogant in your first drafts,” Alik explains, “but in more recent iterations, it’s been toned down a lot. He’s also a lot more understanding of the musician’s blindness.”

You’re confused. “Well, yes. My first drafts are years old, so I’ve had to make some adjustments to better fit my writing style now. Besides, I’ve read too many stories about asshole love interests that don’t really learn anything, they just get tragic backstories that authors think justify their shitty behaviour. I’m not adding my characters to that pile.”

“No, I agree on that,” Alik says, “but even then, he was still a solid character, arrogance aside. He was just a spoiled prince who had to actually think about other people for the first time in his life. Like he’s never had to deal with someone with a disability, and doesn’t know how else to feel other than annoyed. In the more recent drafts, he still doesn’t know how to deal with it, but he’s a lot more willing to make up for the disrespect, where the old version did it, but complained the whole time. It just so happens that this change happened right when you met him for the first time.”

“That’s… hm.” You take a sip and don’t spit it in Alik’s face. “You’re on the right track, but I don’t think I was writing all of that because of a crush.” You feel your face flush warmer again. “He was a bit of an ass at the party, but since then he’s become one of…” You take a moment to count names on your finger. “... six or seven people that aren’t patronizing about me going blind. I’d just been putting up with most of my family either coddling me or being inconvenienced by me, but he’s a rare instance of someone making accommodations, but not making a big show of it. That’s why the book was like that until I met Pantalone.”

You stare into your glass. “And… a-and it’s why I enjoy his company so much…”

Alik doesn’t say anything. You look up, and you see their expression has softened a little bit. They lift their drink up to you, and you smile and lift yours up.

“Cheers.”

You both take a swig, and somehow the disgusting drink tastes sweeter going down. Your face feels warm, and you wonder why you’re still blushing when you see you’re already halfway through your drink. Alik has a similar glow in their cheeks. 

“That’s really sweet and cute,” Alik says, “but I do have to ask you something.”

You feel whatever warm feelings you’re feeling lessen when Alik’s softened expression gains a hint of concern. Their smile looks awkward by comparison, before they sigh and lose it altogether. You’re already dreading what they’re about to say.

They hesitate for a moment, and when they speak, it’s in a whisper. “Do you like him, or do you like what he’s done for you?”

“W-What?”

“I wouldn’t ask that if we were talking about anyone else,” Alik clarifies, “but I have to ask when it’s him. I don’t want to rain on your parade, I’m happy you like someone, but… he’s a harbinger. One of the more likeable ones, but not without flaws.”

“I know…”

Alik sighs. “Look, if it were some other handsome rich man, I’d say go for it. The fact it’s a harbinger specifically makes me a little worried, I won’t lie.”

You sound like my mother. “It’s a crush, not an engagement,” you tell them. “We enjoy each other’s company while he works with my father and sister. I just enjoy it differently than he does.”

“Still, even as friends, I’d be cautious. If not for what he’d have planned, then for what others might have in store for him.”

You take a swig. “You want to know what’s funny? You’re the first person to bring up his enemies as a point for why I shouldn’t get near him.”

“I am not.”

“No, seriously. My mother doesn’t want me near him because he’ll probably, I don’t know, kill me or sell me or steal my ideas, depends on the day. My father thinks I’ll ruin everything those two have built together, which I still don’t know why Pantalone is working with him.”

“Maybe your dad’s indebted to him or something.”

“...”

Alik notices your silence. They say your name in a soft voice, seeming worried by your expression. Your father’s not in debt, is he? The business isn’t as prosperous as it was when you were little, but job markets change all the time, and the economy is ever fluctuating. It’s purely the result of what happens when a business runs for as long as it does. Sometimes an empire doesn’t crumble, but rather dies slowly.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You snap out of it. “I’m, uh, I’m fine.” You push your seat back and stand. “I’m just, um, I’m going to go to the washroom for a second.”

“... Okay? Just watch yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” you call out over your shoulder before immediately bumping into someone. Unlike with Pantalone, you actually manage to catch yourself before you fall. You know that Alik is holding their head in their hands, possibly stifling laughter too for a little extra salt in the wound.

“Archons, sorry,” you immediately blurt out, “I didn’t see you there.”

The ginger haired man laughs. “Oh, no worries comrade! Just be more careful next time!”

You stare at the man, eyes widening. His smile grows, almost reaching the dull blue of his eyes.

“Why the surprised face?” he asks jovially.

You sigh and shake your head. “I have got to stop meeting harbingers like this.”

[talenlee]

My Weirdly Embarrassing Love of Spreadsheets

This is gunna be a post about like, the nuts and bolts of making big projects like ongoing writing projects like this blog, but to get there I need to talk to you about silly stuff like journals and buses and spreadsheets. We get there, please, trust me.

One of the first tools I made for blogging was a table in my bullet journal. If you’re not familiar, a common thing to do with bullet journals (or ‘bujos’ as cooler or more tedious people than I call them), is to write up a calendar at the start of each month, something that lists what you’re doing through the course of the month. When I started doing this, I had a way to look at the month, that I could scribble on, so I did, and it meant I was able to get into the habits of putting an article on a game every friday and an article on a story every monday, resulting in my Story Pile and Game Pile series.

This was back in 2017, and the notebooks are in my bookshelf, each of them a record of a year that… huh, I could go back and reread.

Anyway, one of the problems that came up with this system was the bus.

Not kidding.

I would get a bus home from the uni most days. When I was on that bus, or when I was at the uni, I would have time to write, but I wouldn’t necessarily have access to my notebook. I found myself wanting a copy of the chart that I could manage on two different computers – my laptop at the university, and my computer at home. This is how One Stone got written, too, the trips home on the bus being when I wrote the blog posts that became the first chapters of that book, eyes closed, not looking at the screen, and focusing on the road to avoid being car sick.

It is wild to consider how much of my first book I loved writing I did with my eyes effectively closed.

In 2019, I resolved midway through the year that I needed a better system, and started on a system that would handle the transport between two locations better, for the year coming where I anticipated a lot of travel between two sites.

Ahem.

Yeah, uh, 2020.

Anyway, that it wasn’t necessary didn’t stop it being useful! That led to the creation of this Google Sheets spreadsheet:

I made this in Sheets because Sheets is like Excel, which I like using, and it’s like Calc, which I now use, because the version of Excel I pirated doesn’t have access to IFS functions. Point is, this sheet, as originally conceived, did not need anything as a spreadsheet to work; I wanted a table with 365 cells in it that could show the entire year at a glance and be given a simple, straightforward tick or cross. It became something more, as the years progressed.

I’ve been using this kind of spreadsheet now, for 5 years. In 2025, the spreadsheet looks almost the same:

Being a spreadsheet, it is an array of data. You can manipulate that. You can track data in it. You can use indexes. You can cocatenate things, and that’s the stage this spreadsheet is at now. When I sit down to work on a blog post, the first thing I do is not open up WordPress to pull at my drafts, it’s to instead open up this spreadsheet and look at when I have slots available, where my next upcoming gap is, and what kind of thing that gap wants.

Blue slots are story pile, green are game pile. I have all the video article slots pencilled in already with a ‘V,’ on the working version, so I can look at the line of Xes under each date and then see the point where oh, yeah, I gotta work on one of those spots. But see, also, in that top left? That number? The 0 is a count of how many blog posts have been set in place for the year, how close I am to being finished, or on track for the number of days in the year I’m at.

I try to keep the blog progress (blogress) at around 51 posts. That is not because this is the number I’ve decided I need or anything like that, it’s just a round number that makes me happy. Just being able to look at that number and see it being reasonably high? That’s a progress number. I could make it a progress bar proper, with a pair of graphs, but y’know, not worth it. I could make it a fraction too, like, the formula it’s doing over a “/365” if I wanted.

The thing that I’m most happy with though is the cell next to it.

See that cell looks like this:

='Topics & Ideas'!A2

And oh ho what is that?

Well that leads to this:

Here’s what this is: This is a whole spreadsheet of idea categories. Each category has at the top of it, a cell that looks down in the list for a random entry in that list and just provides it. For some things this is a long list of possibilities, for some things this is a tiny list of possibilities. But that is an index function – it looks randomly up and down the list and finds something. That means any time I want something for a specific theme, I can go to this sheet and I’ll see a random selection from these ideas. If I have an idea for a thing to write about at some point, I can jam that in the list, and know that it will eventually be exposed to me at some random point.

Then, at the head of that list, there’s the cell that also randomises the other cells along that horizontal line. Which means that any time I open this blog arranger up, I get to see a random offering of just… anything I could be writing right now. That list can include really broad things, like hey, write about an OC? and sometimes it could be really narrow and specific, like here’s a real event, you know about that one, you should write about it.

Now let me be clear: This is not a tool I recommend for everyone. This is a lot of elaborate effort I put into what is essentially, a producivity toy. This lets me produce a big pile of input and get a random output, and it lets me collect long lists or short lists of things and also, along with all of that, I can just get a periodic output from that list.

The original purpose for this chart wound up being unnecessary. I didn’t need to write on the bus any more. I don’t need to track the post count like this. I don’t need the randomiser. None of this stuff is in any way necessary.

But making this tool though, and playing with it, I have ways to engage with the project of this blog, with the writing when I can’t do that. When my ability to muster words has left me, I have still a chart, a tool, I have productivity items that I can work on. Sometimes just… fine tuning formulas is still working on it.

There’s this idea, maybe you’ve heard of ‘just do a little every day.’ Well, making it so there is a little you can do is really valuable, as part of that.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[pedrospatch]

the road ahead l preview (j. miller series)

a/n📝 in honor of hitting 4k followers this weekend, I decided to post a little glimpse at what I have been brainstorming: a full length series for the to do the right thing universe. I have been toying around with this idea for a while now and to be honest, I am really terrified taking on such a big challenge and writing this story, but also kind of excited too? part of me feels like I’m going to be in waaaay over my head but oh well lmao.

the first chapter is still a draft, but this scene is complete. what do we think? should i do it? please let me know your thoughts!

“Frank?” You knelt in front of his wheelchair and placed a gentle hand on his knee. “What is it?”

“We need you to take Gracie with you,” Frank told you, softly. His blue eyes had gone red, brimming with tears that he was trying his absolute hardest to hold back. Behind him, Bill stood there with his hand on his partner’s shoulder and you could have sworn that he was fighting back tears too.

“What?” You and Joel hissed out in unison. While you couldn’t see him, you could imagine the look of shock on his face mirrored yours as well.

“We need you to take her with you,” he repeated.

You stared up at Frank, your eyes wide in pure and utter disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever this illness is, it’s progressing fast, way too fast. Look at me. The last time you were here, I could still walk. That was what, just a few months ago?” Frank let out a small and humorless chuckle and shook his head. “I’m getting worse with every day that passes. I can’t do anything for myself, let alone for Gracie. I’m in the most excruciating and unbearable pain and the reality is that I don’t have all that much time left.” He paused, hesitating for a moment before saying, “If I’m going to die, then I’m going to die in peace, not in agony.”

Your heart sank deeply, realizing what he’d meant by that.

“What about Bill?”

Joel’s gruff voice came from behind you, strained and tight.

“He can’t raise her alone. And besides, he’s made his choice to go with me.” Frank put his hand over his beloved partner’s hand, which was still resting on his shoulder.

You glanced over your shoulder back at Joel, who just stood there, the color drained from his face.

“How could we put her through that?” You asked, your voice thick with emotion as you turned back to look at Frank. “Don’t you realize how dangerous it will be for her to go with us?”

“She’s right. We’re goin’ across the fuckin’ country to get Ellie where she needs to be,” Joel reminded them. “We don’t know what kinda shit is out there or what we’re goin’ to run into. So how the fuck do you two expect us to take along a fuckin’ child?”

“Ellie’s a child,” Bill pointed out to him.

“She’s fuckin’ fourteen, not three—”

Frank held up a hand to stop him.

Finally, a tear slid down the side of his face. “Look, this isn’t a choice that we want to make, Joel. But let’s face it. I’m sick and Bill is old. Gracie will wind up alone.” He swallowed harshly, his eyes meeting yours. “I know you just wanted her to be safe, and sure, maybe she was safer with us here than in the zone for a while, but I don’t think that we thought this all the way through. I don’t think we looked far enough into the future. At some point, Gracie was going to lose us both.”

You turned and looked into the living room where Gracie was showing Ellie her favorite teddy bear.

“What’s his name?” Ellie had asked her.

“Teddy.”

She snorted, ruffling her hair. “Real original, kid.”

Gracie giggled, playfully swatting her hand away.

“I know she loses either way.” Frank’s hoarse voice garnered your attention once again. “I know it’s an incredibly dangerous risk, taking her with you. But it’s either that or she winds up alone.”

“We took care of her for as long as we could,” Bill said, quietly. “Now it’s your turn.”

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 9

After your disastrous call with your parents, you decide to take yourself baby shopping. You invite Santi.

Warnings: A long chapter. Mentions of being sick, so emetophobia warning. Brief mention of unsupportive family members. Some swearing. Had to find a shopping mall in Florida and navigate through it so please excuse the inaccuracies on which stores are actually in there. Like mega fluffy towards the end. Barely proofread. Word count: 4,974 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This isn't my favourite chapter, it didn't go the way I had planned it, and even after a few rewrites it's still doesn't feel right. Also, I wrote so much of this before my One Drive decided to crash and it didn't save anything, despite me having my autosave on, so I lost like 5 hours worth of work. And I happened to have been written during a bad week at work so it's probably not my best.

Part 8 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 10

The following weeks after your disastrous call with your parents and sisters were a blur of work and preparations of pregnancy and birth. Your company’s new clients, who were ‘happy with the updates to their social media, and a few print outs every now and then’, were taking up most of your time, but that wasn’t an awful lot of time. So when you were at home, you were reading all the baby books you could find, trying to absorb as much information as possible.

Regarding your birth, you had been looking into a birth plan. You wanted to go as naturally as you possibly could. You were interested in a home birth, with a birthing pool. You read up about the benefits of being in a familiar environment and an unhurried birth, but you were carrying twins. It would be more difficult than a single baby birth, and what if something went wrong? What if you had to be rushed to the hospital? If there was an emergency, you didn’t want to wait for an ambulance and travel. And also, you would need a bigger place for that, which may not have happened for you yet. So, you were leaning towards a birth at the hospital. Sure, it won’t be as relaxed as you would have liked but if you wait as long as possible to go, then you wouldn’t be there for long. Your insurance did only cover a three day stay at the hospital.

 You’d talk it through with Santi, but you’re not going to see him until your next appointment.

Your bad mood hadn’t gone unnoticed. Emily had been hovering over you for the past few days, doing odd jobs for you and just generally keeping an eye on you. You’d be flattered if she wasn’t so…concerned all the time.

“Is everything okay?” Emily asked you for the eightieth time that week.

You don’t even react anymore. “I’m fine, Emily,” you answer robotically, almost a habit to you now.

“You just seem really down,” Emily said, pouting as she leaned forward in her chair, looking at you with sad eyes.

“I had a fight with my family, that’s all,” you replied. “It’s nothing new.”

She stared at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. A snack or a coffee.”

You glance at her as she turned back to her computer. You were convinced she knew about the pregnancy. She hadn’t outright said it, or indicated otherwise, and yeah, Emily was nice, but not this nice. You wondered if Santi had said anything, but when you had asked about it in the past, he didn’t sound like he’d told Emily.

You shake your head at yourself and return to your computer. You’re just being paranoid. And a Negative Nancy.

Although your bump was starting to show a little bit, even as early was you were, and it wouldn’t be long until you had to come out to work that you were expecting. You had already drafted an email up to Harriet to send whenever you were ready, you just needed to get to that point. But you were enjoying your own little pregnancy bubble for now, you had time to tell her, and the rest of the office.

You sigh as you lean back in your chair, staring at the email trail you had going with a potential new client. You needed some new clothes. Your pants were getting tighter each week and you were uncomfortable most days. When you were at home, you lived in a pair of sweatpants that belongs to a long-lost ex-boyfriend, in times gone by. You never bothered to get in touch to return them after your break-up, because, honestly, they were too comfy to go back. Maybe you could treat yourself to some retail therapy that weekend; you hadn’t started buying baby things yet, don’t people already have at least a few items at this point? Maybe you should get started.

You could invite Santiago and give yourself the opportunity to talk about the birth plan.

You bite your lip as you stood from your desk. “I’ll be right back,” you say to Emily, already turning and pulling your phone out of your pocket. You barely heard her acknowledgement before you make your way out of your office and to reception.

You scroll for his number before calling him. It doesn’t take long until Santi’s answering, “Hey, cariño, everything okay?”

You pause, suddenly think that you’re being too forward; too hasty. You could have waited to call until after work when you were at home. Hell, you didn’t even need to call, you could have just texted him. All because you wanted to know if he wanted to go baby shopping with you this weekend. This wasn’t an urgent thing, you could have made the same arrangements tomorrow. You shake your head at yourself, muttering about what an idiot you were, about to tell him ‘goodbye’, you ‘hadn’t mean to call him’ –

“Hey,” he called your name down the phone at your sudden silence. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

“N-no, sorry,” you say, feeling your face warm and suddenly feeling shy. “I didn’t mean to call. Well, I did, but I should have called after work, I’m sorry. Did I take you away from something important?”

“No, not at all,” Santi replied.

You both fall into silence. It wasn’t awkward but it wasn’t comfortable either. You faltered for a moment before you blurted out, “Do you want to come shopping with me? This weekend? On Saturday, I mean. For the babies?”

You were met with quiet, and you had thought he had hung up on you, but he eventually answered, “Sure. Anything in particular you were looking for?”

“No, not really,” you say. “I just…wanted to have a look around, you know? Get some clothes or something.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good,” Santi replied. “There’s some baby store that Frankie recommended, we could go there.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you say. “I can…meet you there or we could together, if you wanted?”

“Yeah,” Santi says, before he blurts out, “I can pick you up. If you want.”

You bite your lip. You’d made the point since you found out you were pregnant to keep things as separate as you could, more for Santi’s sake really (and because you didn’t want to rely on anyone). But, your chest warms, for some reason, at the thought of going together to the store.

You give a small smile. “Okay. It’s 11am okay or is that too early?”

“That’s fine, cariño,” says Santi. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“I’ll see you then,” you say before saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

You wait outside your apartment building for Santiago. You’d been thinking about your shopping trip all week and you were feeling oddly nervous. You weren’t sure why, you’d seen Santiago many times before, but not this…casually. Not regarding the pregnancy, anyway. The only time you had really spent together was for prenatal appointments.

Throughout the week, you were toying with the idea of texting him, cancelling the whole shopping trip and just going by yourself, or even with your friends. But you hesitated, since Santiago said he wanted to be involved, and it would be a good bonding experience for you both. You were in each other’s lives now for the next nineteen years, after all. You wanted your children to grow up in happy, healthy households, where their parents could communicate openly.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Santi pulled up in front of you in his truck. You desperately wanted to ask him if he was thinking about getting a car, just something that would be able to fit two car seats. But you’d already changed so much of his life already, and you didn’t want to push his boundaries. You climbed into his truck, sending him a ‘hi’ as you close the door behind you.

You buckle yourself in as you ask, “So where is this place anyway?”

“Florida Mall,” Santi replied as he set off. “It’s called The Children’s Place. Frankie says it’s mostly clothing but there’s a Dillard’s and a Macy’s for other stuff if we wanted to look.”

You nod. “Yeah, okay, that’s fine. I was looking at Ikea for the big furniture anyway,” you say. “And I need a bigger place for that, so it can wait for now.”

Santi nodded. “I can help you out with that too, if you need,” Santi offered, glancing at you for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road. “Don’t want you lugging around heavy furniture when you’re pregnant.”

You push down the warm feeling you felt in your chest as you nod at him. “I’ll let you know when I have it.”

There was an awkward pause before Santi broke it. “I’ve been meaning to bring this up to you, and I get that it might be a little early but…what’s the situation going to be when they’re here?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Do I need to get furniture too?” Santi asked, giving you another glance. “Because it’s not a problem if I do. I have a spare room and it’s big enough for two cribs. Maybe. I’ll have to clear it out, I’m using it as storage for the moment.”

You stare at him for a moment, that warm feeling coming back to your chest tenfold. He wanted to have the baby furniture at his place? He wanted to have the chaos and the mess that two babies would bring? You vaguely think of if he brought women home back to his place, how they’ll question if he had kids or where the kids were, would it ruin his game? What if he decided to get with someone seriously and they didn’t want the baggage of children from a previous relationship (using the term very loosely). Like you mentioned before, you didn’t want to be telling him what to do. You’d encroached on his life enough already.

“Hey, I know those cogs are working overtime, don’t overthink it,” said Santiago at your silence. “I’ve told you, I’m in this with you. I don’t mind if my life changes a little bit.”

You take a deep breath before letting it go. “Okay.” You nod. “You should get some furniture. I want them to have a relationship with you so it would be nice if they could spend some time with you at your place.”

Santiago nodded before turning to you and giving you a closed smile. “Okay then.”

You chat idly for the rest of the journey about what you had both been up to since the last time you saw each other, and you brought up how your friends were doing and how your family now know that you were pregnant.

“And? How did it go?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in question. “With your family?”

You go quiet before answering, “Not as pleased as my friends were.”

You leave it at that. He doesn’t pry, just gives a nod, and says he’s sorry to hear that they weren’t as supportive. You shrug, looking away from him because you refused to cry about it anymore than you already have, telling him that you’ll get over it and you had him and your friends. It would be your parents and sisters missing out, not your babies.

You pull into the mall and Santiago parks as close as he could to the entrance, claiming that you shouldn’t be walking as far.

You laugh at him as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “I’m pregnant, not elderly.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve heard you complain enough to Jennifer about your joint aches to know you’re gonna want to sit down in about an hour.” He starts climbing out his truck.

Your mouth falls open in mock offence as you climb out the truck also. “That’s so rude, Santi!” you close the door behind you.

“Rude, but true. Come on,” he nods towards the mall entrance before you join him, walking together into the busy mall.

You take a look at the mall map, finding the store Frankie recommended. “It’s towards the back. It’s next to a Build-a-Bear.”

“We can look in those too, if you want,” Santi says.

You grin. “I always wanted a Build-a-Bear when I was a kid,” you said. “My mom would never let me get one.” Your face falls at the mention of your mother.

Santiago, ever the observant, quickly changes the subject. “We can get one each for them. We’ll both pick an outfit for them.” He grins at you.

You take a moment before plastering a smile on your face. “Sure. Oh! Can we stop at a candy store first?”

“We can,” Santi replied, how brow furrowed slightly. “Why?”

“I’ve ran out of watermelon Sourpatch Kids,” you reply, already walking through the mall for the closest candy shop. “I’m constantly craving them. It’s all I want to eat. Think I might be funding them alone.”

Santiago gave a small chuckle, shaking his head at you. “We can get all the Sourpatch Kids you want.”

“As long as it’s watermelon,” you said, giving him a pointed look.

He sighs in amusement, putting his hand on your back and leading you through into the mall as he nods. “As long as it’s watermelon.”

It doesn’t take you long to find the candy shop, Santi making the joke that your pregnancy gave you the nose of a bloodhound. You snorted a laugh before buying four packs of watermelon Sourpatch Kids. Santi’s eyes widened as you stuffed them in your bag before opening one as you both walk out of the store. “That many?” he asked.

You gave him a look before he raised his hands slightly in defence. “They’re so good,” you mutter, before chewing on a sweet slowly, giving a light moan as the taste.

“Cravings hit you this week?” Santi asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you say, already eating another sweet. “They’re all I think about. These and Diet Coke.” You shake the open bag of candy for emphasis. You hesitate before asking if he wanted one, and to your relief, he said no.

“Not a candy kind of guy,” Santi said as you both meander through the mall.

“Good, ‘cause I only offered to be polite,” you said, taking another from the bag.

Santi huffed a laugh through his nose before nodding around the stores. “So, where do we start?”

“Let’s go to the place Frankie recommended,” you say. “I’m curious.”

You both made your way to the store, grabbing a basket as you walk in. The place was full of colours, with character shirts and holiday specific clothing. Santiago stuck close by, taking a look around and asking for your opinions on some things. Between the two of you, you ended up grabbing a copious amount of baby vests and baby grows, mostly white, and some tiny socks which you had internally freaked out over at the size (so tiny!).

You also excitedly grabbed a few holiday themed outfits for the next year.

“That’s hideous,” Santi said as you look at an obnoxious Christmas jumper for a nine-month-old.

You smirked, obviously agreeing with him, but deciding to mess with him a bit. “But it’s so cute, and small. Can you imagine how cute a little baby would be in this?”

“Please don’t get it,” laughed Santiago.

“I’m gonna get it,” you say, putting it in your basket before grinning. “To spite you.”

You pretended a few moments later that you hadn’t seen him discreetly pick up the jumper and put it back on the rack. And you both didn’t say anything about the ‘missing jumper’ when you went to pay either.

With Santi carrying your bags that he offered with some dispute from you, you make your way to any other baby shops you could find. You got a little teary (damn hormones!) as you looked at the shoes and more socks, and some of the costume you found, like the little Mickey and Minnie set you found, or a Beauty and the Beast dress, which happened to be your favourite movie when you were a kid.

When you made your way into Cotton On Kids, you found yourself some maternity pants and jeans, and that’s where you realised that Santiago was a browser. He briefly mentioned that he wasn’t much of a shopper for himself, never mind other people. Especially kids. But you saw him eyeing up a pair of white sneakers and a couple of Metallica t-shirts. You encouraged him to buy them if he liked them; they could stay at his place and the babies could wear them when they were staying over.

He hesitated before grabbing two pairs of each, looking down at the shirts and thumbing at the material before smirking up at you. “My favourite band,” he said.

You smiled and shook your head as you went to make your purchases.

After a while, you did in fact need to sit down, just like Santi predicted. You both decided it was probably a good stopping point to have some lunch anyway, since you had nearly worked your way through two of the four bags of candy you had bought earlier. You took a seat as Santi went to Five Guys, getting some burgers and fries, and the biggest Diet Coke they offered.

“How’s your morning sickness?” Santi asked as he sat down opposite you.

You shrug. “Better but still not great. I’ve taken to drinking ginger tea instead of coffee nowadays to ease it.”

“And does it?” Santi asked, unwrapping his burger.

You pulled a face but nodded anyway, unwrapping your own burger. “It did a bit but it tastes disgusting. I’m going to give mint tea a try, since Gabrielle told me try that with lemonade. It helped her, apparently.”

You talk about stuff happening at work, your new clients, your suspicion that Emily might know you’re pregnant, something that Santiago laughed at.

“She had to take in a book for me,” he replied. “‘The Expectant Dad's Survival Guide’ that Frankie’s kindly let me borrow.”

You give him a swat on the arm. “You’re the reason she thinks something’s up,” you laugh. You make a mental note to get your own books.

You eat your food and talk some more about your upcoming appointment next week and you mentioned to Santi that you were thinking about a birth plan; since you were having twins, you were likely to go into early labour, so you wanted to be as prepared as possible.

“And what are you going to do?”

You sigh. “I think I’ll just go for a standard hospital birth, as natural as possible. I’d like a home birth but I’m paranoid something is going to go wrong.”

“You can talk to Jennifer about it,” said Santi. “She’ll know more about it than we will.”

You finish your food, feeling more relaxed than you did before as Santiago grabbed the bags. You make a quick detour to the bathroom to puke your guts up. You might have to give up cheese at this point, since it always seems to trigger your morning sickness. You come out of the bathroom, Santi handing you a bottle of water that he very nicely got for you. Your heart swells as you take a sip before you both make your way round the rest of the mall.

You do, in fact, take a look in Build-a-Bear, but decide on getting them another day. You made sure Santi promised to come with you.

After a few more stops (and a few more bags of toys and clothing for the babies and you), you make your way into H&M. Gabrielle had mentioned they were good for kids clothing, but you did notice everything was looking a little sad and beige, but you gave Gabrielle the benefit of the doubt. Santi had wandered off since he mentioned he needed to look at some jeans for himself, so you moseyed through the clothing, spotting a few bits of clothing you liked.

You don’t pay much attention to wear you’re walking, and you give a small ‘oomf!’ as you lightly bump into someone, quickly apologising before you take a good look at him, your eyes widening. “Craig!”

He looks at you with confusion before a spark of recognition takes over his face. “Oh, hey,” he says, recalling your name. “How are you?”

You hadn’t heard from this guy since you cancelled your date when you found out you were pregnant. “Uh, yeah, I’m good. How’re you?”

“Not so bad,” Craig replies. He clears his throat and nods to your pile of baby clothes. “For you, or…”

You blink in confusion for a moment before looking down at the clothes. You give a laugh. “Yeah, uh…for me.” You show him your bump for a few seconds. “Just coming out of my first trimester.”

“Right,” Craig said.

“You?” you asked, nodding to the clothes in his hand.

“Nephew’s birthday.”

“Oh.” You both fall into an awkward silence.

You open your mouth to tell him goodbye, but he quickly cuts you off, “I’m sorry that I never got back to you. About our date.”

You make a noise of nonchalance. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything, I cancelled on you.”

“I know, but I was being a little bitter about it and I’m sorry, but now I see that…” he nods to your clothes bundle. “You had some…stuff going on.”

You sigh. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t feeling great, and I found out I was pregnant that night and it was…very unexpected, so…”

Craig’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, I didn’t know you cancelled from that.”

He was as good looking as you remember him, from his pictures. He was handsome, in a Clark Kent kind of way. Tall, dark hair, piercing blue eyes, he was a genuine heartthrob. It was what attracted you to him in the first place. That, and the fact he made you laugh, and he was charming, and was good fun. You wondered very briefly what would have happened if you had gone out on that date with him, if you had just put off testing for one or two days.

“Yeah, it was…a lot,” you say. “It's, uh, settled down, finally. How about you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know, the usual work stuff.” He shrugged. “Work’s busy. Trying to find some free time for hobbies.” He gave a small chuckle.

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say. “All my time at the moment is prenatal appointments and work. I’m working on setting more boundaries for myself.”

“Good for you,” said Craig. “It’s hard balancing work and life, never mind being pregnant.”

“With twins,” you say.

“With twins, no way!” Craig said. “Congrats!”

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a smile.

“Hey, hermosa,” Santi greeted, suddenly appearing at your side. “I gotta get these!” he grins excitedly, holding the small jerseys of a team you weren’t familiar with in his hands before he finally looks between you and Craig. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

There was something to his tone that made you think he knew he was interrupting something. “This is, erm…Craig.” You gesture to Craig. “Craig, this is Santiago,” you introduce him. “He’s the babies’ father.”

Santiago gave Craig a tight-lipped smile before holding his hand out to him. “Nice to meet you.”

Craig smiled before shaking his hand. “You too.”

“How do you know Craig?” Santiago asked you, giving you a too nonchalant look as he places his free hand on the base of your back. You mentally note it was the second time that day he’d done it that day.

You look between them before clearing your throat. “Craig and I were going to go on a date.”

“She cancelled on me,” Craig joked.

You look at him with an amused look on your face, gasping in mock upset. “Because I found out I was pregnant.”

“Oh,” Santiago said, looking between you both before he smirked. “She went on a date with me too and look what happened.” He motioned to your bump.

“Okay,” you say, grabbing Santiago’s arm, feeling your cheeks growing hot with sudden embarrassment. “Good to see you, Craig.” You call, already turning to walk away.

“You too,” Craig said. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You waved your hand in acknowledgement as you walk to the other side of the store.

You take a quick glance at Santi as you stop in the girl’s section and mindlessly start looking through dresses, just for something to do. Santi, the smug bastard, was smirking at you. “He seemed nice.”

“He was. He is,” you say, still looking through the clothes, a little more aggressively.

“You should ask him out,” Santi said. “Again.”

You pause for a moment before looking at him, an unamused look on your face. “No.”

“You’re single, you should,” Santiago said. “He didn’t seem to mind you were pregnant.”

“That’s not…look, it’s complicated,” you say. “No-one wants a pregnant woman as their date.”

“Are you looking to date?” Santiago asked.

You give him a look. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” Santiago said, blinking at you almost innocently.

“You are,” you say. “Why are we talking about my dating life? I haven’t even thought about dating since I found out I was carrying your spawn.”

Santiago snorted a laugh. “Charming.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Santi,” you say, turning away from him and back to the clothes, still not really looking at them. “I just wanted this to be a nice day, with you, about us and the babies.”

Santiago looked at you with an unreadable look on his face for a few moments. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know why you felt so embarrassed that you had ran into Craig. It had never been an issue for you before, running into an ex, but maybe it was because you were pregnant. Maybe it was because you were with Santi. Maybe it was because you just wanted to still be in your pregnancy bubble, with Santi, where everything wasn’t so fucked up, where you could pretend to be in a loving, stable relationship for the time being.

After a moment you sigh, averting your gaze. “Sorry. That was unfair to you, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re right,” said Santi, slowly nodding. “I was a bit of an asshole, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as possessive, I was just messing with you.”

You bite your lip at him as he looks down at the jerseys in his hands, and you know it’s so he doesn’t have to look at you, to keep his hands busy. You frown at him, feeling bad before you lightly clear your throat. “I’m sorry. Really. I know it’s no excuse, but my hormones are all over the place and I was really nervous about today – “

“Why?” Santiago asked, suddenly looking up at you.

“What?” you asked, blinking at him as if you missed his question.

“Why were you nervous about today?”

“Because…” you pause, sucking in your lips as you looked down at your shoes in further embarrassment before deciding just to suck it up. “Because this is the first time we’ve spent together outside of my appointments…and our date.”

Santi just looked at you in confusion. “So?”

“So,” you emphasise. “I just…wanted today to be a good day. I wanted to just feel a little bit normal about this whole thing and not just the couple who aren’t actually a couple who got pregnant after a one-night stand.”

He goes silent again as he stares at you, and you feel your cheeks burning again. God, you just can’t seem to keep your mouth shut today. Your brain obviously isn’t working and it’s probably best if you just stick to being casual with Santi and not try to force anything, like you said before.

You open your mouth to tell him that you should probably go, but he beat you to it.

“This is still new to both of us,” he said. “And I know you have your way of doing things and you want to be the best you can at this, and I don’t doubt you will,” Santi raises his eyebrows pointedly at you at you give him a look. “But you have to remember that it’s not just you. Okay? I feel like I’m walking on eggshells because you’re so Goddamn independent that I’m worried I’m going to say the wrong thing and upset you. Like before.”

You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologising when you haven’t done anything wrong,” Santiago said. “Stop worrying you’re going to upset me.”

You give another sigh before you look at him. “We need to learn to communicate better.”

Santi faltered before nodding. “We do.”

“We should talk more, outside of,” you motion to your bump. “This.”

“We should,” he gave another nod.

“I’m…” you were about to apologise again but stopped yourself, deciding to go in a different direction. “I’m glad you wanted to come with me today.”

“Are you kidding? And miss out on embarrassing you in front of an almost date?” Santiago grinned as you swatted him arm.

“Asshole,” you muttered before motioning for him to follow you. “Come on, let’s go and buy these football jerseys,” you say, smiling at the small shirts still in his hands.

“It’s a baseball team,” Santiago replies, smirking and falling into step with you.

“Shut up,” you say, giving him a good-natured shove as he laughs at your blunder.

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath

[abellyfulloffriends]

Evergreen

I’ve had this story in my drafts for months and forgot it existed so I finally decided to post it somewhere.

Story contains: Soft, Safe, Nonfatal and Nonsexual Vore. Willing/Unwilling Vore. G/T Vore. Borrower Siblings, Human third party. ANGST SO MUCH ANGST. Hurt/Comfort. Switching perspectives. Also typos.

Jericho

Cold temperatures were lower than I ever expected this early. We’ve had a few too many nights where it falls below freezing, and it’s not even November. With such a low yield, My sister, Chloe, and I won’t be able to stay and shelter in place again. We barely made it by last year, and spent the spring recovering after she got sick. The two of us were bringing back what little we could find today, over the last week we picked the forest clean. Every berry picked, and every tree nut gathered. We even took the bitter weeds.

“This isn’t going to be enough. We wouldn't last even a month on this.” Chloe worries. She worries a lot. I offer to carry her satchel. She hands it over to me and wraps her tail around her body. “I’m cold Jericho…”

I don’t let her words get to me, if I stop to panic, neither of us will get through the winter. We trudge through the damp leaf litter. The wind whistles through the trees, and it is freezing across my bare face. Chloe huffs and runs ahead, bracing against the wind and pushing her body underneath a marked tree stump. She lifts a wooden door built into the side and I usher myself inside.

Chloe lays down on her side on the raised bed of evergreen needles. I set down our haul and began to get a fire going, striking for sparks. “Can you look through and see what needs to be eaten first? You should eat.” Chloe reaches over and silently opens her satchel first, flinching her hand back as she reaches in. “You okay?” I take notice of the splinters in her fingers. She carefully puts her hand back in and pulls out a clutch of acorns. “Here. These will go bad soon.”

I put down the flint and reach over for her hand, softly holding her wrist. “Hey, you okay?”

She sets down the acorns next to the firewood. “Just… scared.” She relents. “I’m worried about us, making it through the winter.” She sighs. “Thanks for asking, honestly, I’m also sore, these acorns are huge, and it's hard to haul them like this.” Chloe was right, being only six inches tall makes it hard to carry anything that wasn’t nearly microscopic.

I crack open an acorn, splitting it between the two of us. “I think we should try to propagate the dandelions during winter, in order to keep food stocks up.”

Chloe smiles, then frowns. “I wish it were that simple, but the soil is so dry and dead nothing grows, even weeds, sure they can handle the cold, but with the temperature not changing they won’t get water.” She slowly reaches for my hand, “Actually, I wanted to ask you about my plan.” I morph my face quizzically.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

She nods, “Thank you. Well, back in summer, I spent a lot of time on my own, and met some other borrowers. I want to try something they suggested. We should borrow from a human. I know you don’t like the idea, but it’s getting desperate.”

I crush another acorn under my foot. “That’s suicide.” I say flatly. “Humans eat borrowers like us, as do their pets. We’re nothing but prey to them.”

Chloe sighs under her breath, “I knew you’d act like this, but I can’t say I agree this time. I heard stories, Jericho. Stories about-”

“Stories. I heard stories too, and I’ve seen it too, you’ll get yourself killed.” I interject.

“It’s not that simple!” She raises her voice. “We will starve to death if we stay, I know you hate humans, you never made that a secret, but I have a plan. I won’t stay long, they don’t even have to know I’m there. I’ll get some supplies and drop them off by the river.” Chloe starts to shake, “I won’t be gone long, and I won’t overstay my welcome.”

I hang my head, “You better come back.”

Chloe looks at me, “Does that mean?”

“Yes. Go. But please be careful Chloe, and don’t get noticed.”

She quickly begins to gather a few things. I know I can’t argue with her, she’s always been headstrong, and as stubborn as me. She really does share my blood. “Here, take this too.” I hand her my gathering blade. “Just in case.”

Chloe

Jericho warned me a few dozen more times before I left that night. I bundled myself up a bit further, and made sure to bring my favorite gear. Sneaking into the human’s home wasn’t the most difficult thing, I managed to pick the lock on the window, a trick I learned last summer, with Jericho’s blade. My brother worries an awful lot for me, but I care more about making sure we get fed, then entertain his phobia. Humans can’t be all that bad, after two days of hiding out here, I haven’t been noticed, and I’ve collected enough food to last us the next month, a few more trips and by the end of week we would be set. I set out into the doorway near the kitchen.

The loud footsteps sound around the corner from across the room. I roll underneath a fallen article of clothing. I peak out as the human walks past. The size between us is difficult to describe. They tower over my hiding place, and reach down. The human grasps onto a plush cloth next to me. I cover my mouth, making sure not to give myself away. “Perfect, this will go perfectly with that cute top!” Mercifully, the human seems preoccupied. Soon enough they leave, giving me an opportunity to dash. Using my climbing gear, built out of scrap and threaded twine, the same gear my brother and I use to scale large trees, I hop up onto the lowest drawer of the cabinet, then looping the gear around the next handle, off the floor and into the drawer. I heard the sound of footsteps again, I quickly shut the drawer on myself and held my breath. Muffled through the wood I hear their voice again, “Mmm, Chocolate!” The carefree voice and lilt make me chuckle a bit, before I suddenly cup my mouth. I have to focus.

Soon, it’s nothing but silence. I push out against the drawer, but it doesn’t budge. The climbing gear is wedged between the lip of the drawer and the sliding railing. I wrap the rope of the gear around my wrist, and pull on it with my other hand, I extend the body weight and I feel a give. I pull it with my all, until the rope snaps. The force launches me backward, knocking me out.

As I open my eyes, the back of my head aches. And I can see light pouring from the slit in the drawer. I stumble forward to reach out for it, bumping my head on the top drawer. I cry out in pain, holding my head and falling over. Taking a second to breathe, I noticed a spot of dried blood on my forehead. I attempt to regain my composure. I push the pain back in my head and peek out of the drawer. I’m met with a strange sight, and blinding lights. Straining my vision, I make out the form of my satchel. Sitting on the floor, along with a gathering of small snacks. The lights seem to dim as I get closer, then it gets dark, looking up, the horror sets in as the human locks eyes with me. My body freezes.

“Hi there, little borrower.” Their voices sing. “You look hurt, do you need something for your head?” My voice is gone, I don’t know what to do. What would Jericho do? “Can you speak? Or at least understand me?” The human takes a step closer, holding something in their hand. “Here, have some chocolate!” The same tone from earlier. I get a sudden warmth in my chest, and before I know it, I’m holding out my hands. They place a small piece in my hands. “Oh! Where are my manners, I’m Brianna.”

I take a small nip of the chocolate. It’s sweet and incredibly rich. The rush of flavor forces me to smile. “C-Chloe…”

Brianna chuckles. “Chloe? That was your name? I love it!” The girl's cheerful demeanor invites me in. “So Chloe, what brings you here? I’m guessing you’re borrowing from me.” I don’t respond, and hesitate to move. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind at all, little one. I’m assuming you’re hungry then?”

“Please… Don’t hurt me…”

The human holds her hands to her chest, and kneels down slowly. “I won’t. You’re safe here, little one. There have been borrowers around here before, I’m more than happy to accommodate. May I pick you up?”

I shove the last bit of chocolate in my mouth and slowly nod, “Just… don’t eat me…” Brianna offers her hand to me and I tentatively place my knees down on her fingers. I expect her to suddenly grab me, but she remains steady. She hands me my satchel, and lifts me up to the countertop. I’m set down gingerly. The girl takes a single finger and strokes my hair. “You remind me of my dolls, uh, no offense of course.” She hands me a cloth, “Use this for your head, and rest your eyes. I’m going to make some soup for us.”

“Soup?” I inquire.

“Yes,” She snickers, “Because anything else would be hard to portion for you, soup is easy and quick and warm. And I suck at cooking, so I can’t mess it up either.”

Brianna and I exchange stories as the soup cooks. I tell her my favorite forest games as a kid, she describes the disasters she made in the kitchen. I slowly ease into telling this human my situation, confiding that my brother and I need help.

“Oh my sweet dear, that's terrible!” She tears her eyes off the stove. “Why didn't you tell me that before, I would be more than happy to take you both in for the winter.” Lightning surges in my chest.

“Wait… Really?” I’m incredulous. “You’d actually do that for two random strangers?”

Brianna doesn’t hesitate to respond, “Sure! After what you told me about how sick you got and how hard last winter was, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I knew I could have made a difference for you. Please extend my word to your brother, I’m sure you can win him over.” Brianna grabs a bowl for herself and a small saucer for me, and pour warm soup into our dishes. “Enjoy, Chloe. I bet you haven’t had a warm meal like this in forever. I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”

I take a sip of the soup, notes of celery and chicken dance on the taste buds. “Aww thanks, I will definitely tell him.” I drink more of the soup with fervor. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Brianna smiles warmly as I wipe my mouth. We both share a good laugh.

Jericho

I crest the hill, the sounds of midafternoon crickets are nearly everywhere as I eye up the river. It’s been nearly a week now of borrowing. My heart relaxes as I spot my sister sitting on the grass. I sit down next to her and embrace her lightly. “Glad to see you made it out. I really don’t like this, but I have to admit it was great getting all this food for the winter.” She sighs.

“I told you. I got this, I’m not in any danger.” Chloe stands. “Come on, let's go home, I can’t wait to go back for another haul tomorrow.” Her smile was infectious.

Yet I can’t help but wonder if she’s suddenly an adrenaline junkie, getting excited by risking her skin. “Aren’t you having a bit too much fun with this?” What are you not telling me, what happened between then and now? “Did anything happen while you were in there?”

Chloe looks me in the eye and stops walking. She groans, “Look, it’s not important right now, let's get home before dark.” Did she just dodge my question? “I’m okay, man, you don’t have to interrogate me.”

“I’m not!” I defend myself. “I’m worried! You’re in a house with a vicious monster, and I just want to know if you’re okay.” Sometimes it confuses me how she can be so casual around the subject of humans, doesn’t she know what they are?

“Vicious Monster? You don’t even know her.”

“...Her?...”

Chloe covers her mouth.

“What are you not telling me? Did the human notice you?”

“Her name is Brianna.” She sits under her breath.

Is she implying that she met the human? She couldn’t have, they would have killed her if she did. “Chloe, what are you saying?”

She shouts in frustration. “Fuck! Jericho, you are delusional!” I flinch. “All you’ve ever done is try to put this version of humans in my head that they’re some kind of rabid animal. Yet Brianna has treated me with more kindness and respect than you ever have!” Tears fill her eyes, all I can do is watch. “Furthermore, you always doubt my ability, yet all I’ve ever done for you is try to help you! Why are you like this?”

I raise my voice, “Because I can’t lose you too! I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help but be harsh because I want to survive! Being a borrower sucks, it’s a constant survival mission!”

“Then come with me! I forgive you, you're my brother, and no matter how much you hurt me, I still love you, because you are all I have.” She leans in to hug me. I don’t resist. “Even if you don’t trust the human, you can trust me. I only want what’s best for us, as a family.”

Tears are staining my eyes and I refuse to cry in front of her, I have to be strong. I don’t want her to see how much pain I’m in. “I- I can’t.” I hitch my breathing and force myself to calm. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Chloe hugs me tighter. “You’ll come with me when you realize that I’m not the enemy. Brianna will be more than happy to help you understand how hurt you are, she already has helped me over the last few days. She’s the reason I’ve been happier. She can be trusted.”

I don’t respond.

Chloe

Brianna holds my small form in her hands and breathes softly, leaning back on her reclining chair. “How are you feeling? After that fight with your brother?” Her heartbeat is loud enough I can hear it just sitting on her torso.

“Better. I’m glad I came back here. Thanks for letting me stay the night.” I look up at her and smile, dropping it as I hang my head. “I just don’t know why he’s so freaking stubborn, is something I did wrong?” I just met this human, but I feel like I could tell her anything. “I know he’ll come around, I love my brother so much, and I know he’s hurting.”

Brianna gently holds me closer. “You’re doing the right thing.” She hums a soothing tune. “My sister is like this too. She went off to college and became super distant. I was so sad and angry that I didn’t know how to talk to her. But we eventually made up, I told her how I felt, and she admitted how hurt she was, so I find it reassuring that you see the same in your brother, you’re doing good, Chloe.”

I didn’t notice I started crying. “Thank you. Gosh.” The sobs of relief and validation tug at my heartstrings. “You barely know me, why are you so kind to me? And why do they always seem to understand?” What I don’t say is, ‘I knew my brother my whole life, and he was never this kind, at least, not after Mom died.’

“Simple, really. Kindness is easy for me, and grated I don’t struggle nearly as hard as you borrowers do. You fight for survival and have to prioritize that over the nuance of building a relationship. So in that, I understand your brother, you don’t have to be so hard on him. But I do understand how hurt you are by him.” Brianna slowly gets up, “Want to get some sleep? You’ve had a long day.”

“Yes please.”

After cleaning herself up for the night, Brianna sets me down on the bed, and rubs the back of her neck. “I don’t know how much you trust me, but I wanted to ask you something. And…” She nervously laughs. “...Don’t freak out on me, just hear me out?”

Oddly enough I don’t feel the need. “Sure, lay it on me!” I extend a cheery tone to help ease her anxiety. “I trust you, you’ve already proven you’re trustworthy a few times now.”

“So, I can control my… stomach. I can change my hormones so my stomach doesn’t digest.” I didn’t expect to hear that, but it intrigued me greatly. “And also, it will be the first snow tonight, and I don’t want you to be cold…” She takes a breath. “May I eat you, Chloe? You’d be safe, I promise.” She’s eager and awaits my response it seems.

I don’t really know how to respond to such a new concept. Surely she’s telling me the truth. If she wanted to hurt me surely she would have done so when I was knocked out earlier this week. She understands my brother’s hurt, and offered to help us through winter. If she wanted to kill me, she wouldn’t have done all this for me. “You know what? Go ahead! Sounds like fun honestly!” I don’t know what came over me, but the idea excited me somehow, surely it must be warm inside a person.

“Really? Are you sure, you don’t have to!”

“Really! I’ve never been eaten before!”

“...”

The room erupts with laughter. Brianna chirps with her joy, and I can’t believe I’m about to be eaten by a human, especially after my brother warned me, but after this week, why wouldn’t I?

Brianna lifts me to face, we’re eye level now. “I’m going to taste you for a bit before I swallow you, if you ever get uncomfortable or scared we can stop, I won’t hurt you.” She reassures me once more. I already trust her, and give her a verbal confirmation. With any further hesitation, Brianna opens her mouth, relieving pearl white teeth, and a big pink tongue. I feel something in my spine as I’m inched closer. It almost looks inviting, a big wet drooly mouth looks inviting. I laugh at the thought, reaching out one hand to feel her tongue. I immediately notice how warm it is, and how soft it feels under my hand. I wiggle off her hand and into her mouth, the warmth was more than enough to sell me on this idea. The soft muscle pulls me in quickly, and Brianna closes her lips around my waist. She hums at my flavor, presumably, pushing me gently against her palate, then the inside of her cheek, then tilts me to my throat.

I don’t have any protest, so I take a small breath in, feeling a bit of vertigo as my head slips into her throat, and she swallows, simultaneously throwing my legs in behind me. She closes her lips around me and swallows again, leaving just my tail out. The snug muscles of her throat pull me downward, toward her stomach, a small part of me comes to reality that I’m about to be put in the same place all food goes, and the only thing keeping me from becoming food is Brianna's word. But I don’t struggle, as much as this doesn’t make sense, it would make even less sense for her to betray me. I feel my tail get slurped up like a noodle with a muffle smack of Brianna’s lips, along with a small gulp.

Dropping into her stomach, I bounce a bit as I hit the bottom of the gastric chamber. “Are you okay, Chloe?” Her voice is basey and all around me. I take a moment to assess my condition.

Warm? Check.

Comfortable? Check.

Safe? Check.

“Fantastic!” I shout back, hoping my voice is loud enough to penetrate her internal flesh. “I’m safe and sound, thank you for keeping your promise!” I sink my body into the walls of her fleshy stomach, hearing the soft gurgles and groans of her digestive system moving about. I also catch on to her subtle heartbeat above me. This, I could get used to.

Jericho

I wanted to chase after her after she stormed back to that- Brianna’s place. Was Chloe right? Was I the enemy? Something didn’t feel right, so I decided to find her, and risk meeting this human she seems to know more about than I do. Unfortunately, I waited too long, and night had fallen. An owl had detected my presence. I refused to end up as an owl chow before I made amends with my sister. I stay under the brush of foliage of the forest floor, passing the river swifting by its thinnest shore, avoiding the open air for long.

The hills keep getting higher as I make the trek up the mountain side. Chloe told me the directions before she stormed off earlier tonight, and for that I’m lucky. I hide into hovels and peek out, the owl seems to have lost me. I see a light on the crest of the hill. Eyeing down a house on the edge of forest, just as she described. As I sneak closer I hear footsteps coming fast. I twist my body to view, seeing the dark form of a huge humanoid running at me, a feminine voice sounding to me, “OWL!”

The screech of the owl and its silhouette blocks out the moon, without thinking I dart toward the human, they reach down and grasp me in both hands. I can hear the fast patter of gravel shoes and the loud slam of the front door. The adrenaline and static take a while to clear from my ears. And just briefly enough to help me recognize I was being spoken to.

My vision clears as I look up to my savior.

“Jericho?”

She knows my name? Then she must be her.

“Brianna?”

She smiles, relieved. “It seems we cleared that up, I’m glad I found you when I did, what are you doing out here at night?” The girl begins stroking my hair with her thumb, I wince at her touch. She’s awfully friendly.

Then the realization hits me. “My sister! I was… coming to apologize to my sister…” I look around the room and dart my eyes. “Where… is she?”

The human continues smiling. “Safe, and warm.” Her stomach growls underneath me, “Listen, you’ll forgive me later, but this is what she wanted. Just don’t struggle too much.”

I don’t even get a moment to protest whatever she’s doing when she shovels me into mouth! I flail around desperately. This wasn’t happening. The wet and sticky saliva coats my body and the human quickly gulps me down her gullet. Sending me straight to her stomach. I feel a heavy feeling in my chest as I’m deposited into her growling stomach. Something touches my shoulder and I scream.

“Woah! It’s okay, it’s just Chloe!”

I stare blankly in disbelief. She was… alive? In here?

“Sorry for panicking you, Jericho.” She embraces me tight, lingering on my name. “But I knew you wouldn’t agree to this willingly.” She pats me on the back. “We’re safe. Brianna won’t digest us, she’ll keep us safe tonight, and all winter. Our struggles are over, Jericho. We can rest.”

I open and close my hands slowly, processing her words. “You… planned all this? This was your idea?” She nods. “And you’re not angry?” She shakes her head. I look her up and down, then at the slimy surrounding around us, and the dim light coming from the walls. “I want to sleep.” The day had taken its toll, and I wanted to rest. At least I can take comfort in seeing my sister alive.

Chloe

I spent the rest of the night with Jericho in Brianna’s stomach. Talking about anything and everything, hoping to relax him. As morning came Jericho confessed to me how sad and scared he’s been, sobbing into my arms as Brianna spits us up. We clean ourselves thoroughly.

Outside a large blanket of snow had buried everything. We were practically snowed in. I take Jericho's hand and look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. For everything this week. I’ve been difficult and hard to love, yet you risked your life multiple times to ensure my safety. You are an amazing brother, and even if I hate you sometimes. You’re not all that bad.”

Jericho does the same, “And I’m sorry, for not believing in you, and not trusting you. You are extremely smart and capable. You have proven to me that I don’t know everything.” He looks up to Brianna, “And thank you, Human, for not hurting my sister or I, and for taking us in. We will make up for the sacrifices you make for us.”

I chuckle at that, “And another thing Bri? Thanks for eating me. I didn’t know I would enjoy it so much, but I have never felt so warm or safe in my life, you are an amazing human that we borrowers-” I nudged my brother, “-Would love to get to know!”

Brianna takes a moment and tears well up in her eyes, “Always happy to help anyone in need, Human, Animal, Plant, Borrower, whatever. My love is unconditional. I’m excited for this winter.” She glanced out the window at the snow and falling flakes. “And if you need anything, I will be happy to provide, it’s the least I can do for two cute borrowers who have been through hell.” She nods solemnly at me.

Jericho embraces me, and gives him one arm back and raises my other for Brianna. The three of us share a long hug together, and despite our many differences, I know it’ll work out for all of us.

[the-void-writes]

Sick!!

Heyyyy 💖 Sorry if this one feels rushed, it’s kind of been sitting in drafts until I finally found a spark of love for Lockhart again lol.

SOLM - Sick Night

Summary: Val works themself sick, Cyrus offers to care for them.

TW for suggestive content

“You worked yourself sick again, didn’t you?”

Val could barely lift their head off the table as they looked up at Cyrus. “It’s fine, I’m just tired.”

“Is that why there are tissues everywhere?”

“It’s cold, Cyrus. We’re staying in the mountains.”

“You’re sick, dear.” He offered his hand. “Please, you can sleep in my room, if you’d like.”

“I just need to—”

They tried to stand, but their knees gave out and they fell to the floor of the library. Cyrus carefully picked them up and carried them through the manor. The eyes of the portraits followed Val as they watched their surroundings pass by. Finally, their head landed on Cyrus’ silk pillow, and they passed out immediately.

The sun was starting to set when they woke up. A cold cup of tea sat on the nightstand. Val tried to sit up, but the fire in their body weighed them to the mattress. Their sinuses were completely clogged, and their head felt as though it would burst.

As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the door to Cyrus’ room creaked open. He stepped inside, gliding across the floor to Val’s bedside with a comforting smile.

“How do you feel, love?”

“Like lead,” Val mumbled.

“Doctor Carrol left some more medicine for you. I put it in the washroom, whenever you’re ready for another dose.”

Val licked their lips. “Is that why I taste copper?”

Cyrus chuckled. “It’s not pleasant, I’m sorry.”

“I should be thanking you. I’m a mess to take care of, I know.”

“Caring for you is bliss, my darling. I never dreamed I would have someone to nurse like this.”

Val hid their face. “Thanks, I sound like a senior citizen.”

“You’d make for a lovely elder.” Cyrus smiled sadly. “I hope I’m still around to see that for myself.”

“I hope so, too.”

A loud, gross cough interrupted their special moment. Val’s head hit the pillow again as they sighed, feeling heavy and hot and miserable. They wanted to move, to relieve the ache in their body. Cyrus stepped closer, and Val’s hand instantly met his.

“Is there anything I can get you?” he asked.

Val stared down at the gorgeous detailing on Cyrus’ red sheets. “No, thank you. I don’t want to risk you getting sick.”

“Lucky for us, I have a strong immune system. An advantage to living in the mountains for so long.”

“Lucky you,” Val said. “Perfect health, a gorgeous house— is there anything you don’t have?”

Cyrus smiled. “There is one thing I’m missing. Your lips on mine.”

He leaned down, brushing his light lips against Val’s cheek. Even though they felt gross, Val couldn’t help but kiss him over and over. Their hands ran through his hair as he crawled over them, covering them with his tall frame. Without thinking, they threw their sweater to the floor. The cold air felt wonderful, second only to Cyrus’ lips on their neck.

“Val, my darling, may I spoil you for a moment?”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Without question.”

Val kissed his jaw. “Thank you, dear.”

“Believe me, the pleasure is mine.”

His hands were careful around their waist as he hooked his fingers around their pants, sliding them delicately off of their legs. He lingered on the warmth of Val’s thighs, tracing up and down in rhythm. They jolted against his touch, wincing slightly as their muscles flared from exhaustion.

“Too much?” Cyrus asked.

“Softer,” Val whispered, “please.”

“Of course.”

True to his word, he was gentle. He kissed the soft rolls of their stomach, the dip of their hip bone, and the inner skin of their wrist. His touch was intoxicating, and Val cursed themself every time they coughed or sniffed and drew Cyrus’ attention away.

“Do you need to stop?” he asked.

“It’s too good,” they mumbled. “Please, keep going.”

“As long as it doesn’t kill you.”

“I’m the picture of health.”

Cyrus laughed against their chest, sending butterflies all through Val’s body. He slipped off the rest of their garments with ease. One pale hand wrapped around their knee and propped it over his shoulder, while the other caressed their chest. Val’s fingers curled around the sheets. Hungry emerald eyes shimmered in the light of the dying candle, drinking in Val’s form.

“Relax, flower. I’ve got you.”

[masterwords]

I’m back!

I was thinking about Derek and Aaron having to put together some kind of toy or project for Jack (you know kids always do it the night before it’s due). I’m just picturing some sweet and sarcastic time together doing something for Jack that should be easier but is probably harder than they thought.

Super excited for May now!

Starting May off with this one! And yeah, it got a LOT sappier than I meant for it to...that happens I suppose.

Summary: Jack needs to build a rocket and he has two dads who can help him out. Lucky kid.

Warnings: mention of Derek's dad's death and financial troubles after

Words: 1.3k

Read below the cut or on AO3!

**

** Blast Off **

“You're doing it wrong,” Derek says from the floor. He's on his second set of one hundred pushups, maybe the third, Hotch has lost count. Up and down up and down.

“The directions said...”

“Read them again.”

He can't. Jack lost them about an hour before when Hotch told him to clean up all of the mess he'd made that didn't have anything to do with the damn rocket so they could focus. He can manage chaos on a grand scale, but in his own home it's just a little too much. The sad truth is, those instructions are probably in the trash can beneath the scraps from dinner.

In other words, long gone. He's not digging through the trash to figure this little thing out.

He doesn't think it should matter. There are not that many pieces. They're all laid out, side by side, just like he would set it up if he was taking apart one of his guns to be cleaned. It looks so simple, and it probably is it's just that he's afraid to commit and make a mistake. They don't have time to go buy another kit, they waited until the last minute. Not because anyone forgot, just because Hotch had been a little extra busy at work. Story of his life.

Derek finishes his push-ups and spends almost a full minute drinking every drop from his water bottle. Hotch envies his dedication to fitness, the way he always manages to get these things in without excuse. Hotch hasn't done push-ups in days even though they entered into this monthly challenge some of the guys at the Academy started together. This month is push-ups, next month is running. He'll make them up, no way he's going to come in last or just give up, but he's definitely not making it easy on himself.

“This part goes here,” Derek says, pointing. “I watched my dad and Sarah make one of these.”

“I made one when I was a kid but not from a kit. My dad almost cut his hand off helping me with mine. He wasn't much of an engineer...” In other words, his rocket had looked pretty cool but had been an epic fail. It blew to bits when it hit the ground.

Derek's mom didn't have the money to buy him a kit when it was his turn. It wasn't that expensive, but it would have over drafted her account. If it had been a week later maybe she could have been able to swing it, pinch a few pennies, but things were just tight. Her job didn't pay much and the hospital and funeral expenses were still weighing her down so he was home sick on rocket day to save face. Being the only kid who showed up empty handed would have killed him and Fran knew it. He already had to be the kid whose dad died, he didn't need that too. Things were hard enough on him.

Derek doesn't bring it up but Hotch can see it on his face, he can see it written in the lines on his forehead. He doesn't dwell on these things but they still sting when confronted with them.

“Do you want to take my place?” Hotch asks without a hint of frustration. He thinks maybe Derek might like a do-over. “I could use a few minutes to get some push-ups in before I'm at the bottom of the pile.”

Derek doesn't need the instructions. He can reconstruct a bomb from scraps, he can see the way the pieces fit together and instinctively knows what each of them does. Hotch knows that even if it's not exactly the way the instructions say to do it, Jack's rocket will probably win.

The only thing Derek can think is that this feels huge. This is a father son project, Jack has been talking about it for weeks. The fact that Hotch isn't home often and Jack was worried he'd have to build it with aunt Jessica had been at the forefront of his mind. Not that he would hate that, he just...it was all Jack wanted. Building a rocket with daddy. It's a whole thing. After they build the rockets his whole class will go to a field and launch them, there are even prizes for the winners. Highest, farthest, best paint job. There are about a million categories, enough that each kid in the class will probably get something for their trouble. But Jack just wants to build it with Hotch. And after launch day, to further the experience, they get to go to the air and space museum. It's not the sort of thing some random guy just gets to jump in on. He knows he isn't just some random guy, but until this moment he wasn't really sure where he fit. Jack likes him, or at least tolerates him, and he's careful not to infringe on Jack's precious time with his dad.

This makes him feel like part of the family in a way he hasn't before.

“You sure?”

He expects Jack to politely refuse. He wouldn't mind it. If he could have done this with his father...

“YEAH! PLEASE DEREK!”

Jack's enthusiasm nearly makes him cry. It's all he can do to hold himself together as he takes a seat beside the kid and starts rearranging the pieces into an order that makes sense to him. No hesitation. If Jack wants him to do it, then he's going to do it and he's going to do it right. He thinks about that stupid Inside Out movie that makes him cry every time Jack wants to watch it and he knows this is a core memory.

Maybe for both of them.

They work all evening, laughing and making a mess while Hotch makes up for lost time on his damn push-ups. His arms feel like jelly, his elbows are creaking, but he's back in the running again. He pops a few Tylenol PM so the ache in his arms doesn't keep him up that night but he feels good otherwise. Could probably do more if he wanted but he didn't want. It's late and all he wants to do is read Jack a chapter from their bedtime story and go to bed.

By the time he comes to the table to check on things, they've got it painted with the wildest set of tiger stripes he's ever seen. It looks fast and mean. And the most shocking part? The table is mostly cleaned up.

“Will it fly?” Hotch asks in awe. Derek and Jack laugh in unison and he can't get over how good that sound is.

“Not only will it fly,” Derek starts, standing and arching his sore back. He hates sitting so long. “It's gonna win.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Hotch takes Jack to get ready for bed while Derek finishes shutting down the apartment, checking locks, turning off lights. He gives the glue a test, tugs at the fins, pulls the nose off and checks that the parachute is intact. It all looks good. He knows the engine is solid, it's in there, it's going places. Once he's satisfied with the work they put in, he heads off toward Hotch's room to wait for him to finish, but hears his name called from Jack's room.

“Yeah?” he asks, leaning in the doorway. Jack is tucked into his bed, Hotch kneeling on the floor beside him with the book in his hand.

“Would you come with me tomorrow?” Jack asks with a hopeful smile. “Since you helped me build it.”

Derek can't stop the tears this time. They obscure his vision and for a moment he's speechless. Hotch nods and smiles.

“Yeah, buddy. If the boss says I can have the morning off, I'd love to.”

“Can he dad? Please?”

“I'll think about it.” He's posturing. It's a done deal. Derek already knows it.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddddddddddddd...”

Hotch smiles in a way that lights his eyes up and he nods. “Of course. But only if he brings me lunch.”

“Deal.”

[artknifeandglue]

as shattered stars shine: DVD commentary (part 1/12)

Home, sick, and desperately need to do something other than write, so I'm going to yell semi-coherently about as shattered stars shine, a story that seized my brain in end-April last year and refused to leave until I wrote the whole damn thing.

Will do it chapter by chapter, but post might be long, so cut.

“I’ll risk my life, I���ll give my life to you. After all, you gave me time, didn’t you? If all my desires could come true, if I could attain them, I want to see you I make my wish upon the stars” … If life would only return to you, if it could reach you, I don’t care what happens to me” -Mephisto by Queen Bee

I describe this fic as a Gift of the Magi meets Faust, which it pretty much is. Many thanks to Queen Bee for an emotionally devastating song. Now on to the writing process and commentary! (Note: I’m not going to put the whole fic here because that’d defeat the purpose of uploading it, and also because I feel really weird about posting the full 60k words here. Instead, I’ve taken quotes from it and put them here.)

Meteor showers, Eggsy knows, aren’t actually as rare as people think. Thirty of them in a year works out to one meteor shower somewhere every five weeks.

Quite literally the first line - this was the very first thing I wrote, and it stayed in all the way until the final draft (with some tiny revisions!). Originally, the second line had a throwaway comment about a primary school teacher having given him this bit of information. Also, this damn line alone kicked off a whole lot of reading about meteor showers. Many thanks to the International Meteor Organisation for their assistance.

Deep brown eyes flicker up towards Eggsy, and for a moment he feels as though they might in their intensity reveal his every secret, every corner of his soul. It should be intimidating, Eggsy knows. It should be frightening. Yet a shiver of excitement starts at the back of his neck and darts down his spine, leaves his hands tingling with something almost like the thrill of his escape, but better. How much richer, Eggsy thinks, how much warmer this feeling is, this business of feeling alive.

Kingsman’s story is that of Eggsy starting a new life as an agent, but his new life doesn’t start the moment he enters Kingsman – it starts when he goes to meet Harry Hart. Also relevant: this particular story’s themes of a second chance at life, at being alive.

“About two weeks and many hopeful glimpses up at the Galahad office window later, Eggsy takes a look in the mirror and accepts that yeah, okay, he might be just a little bit in love with Harry Hart…

Which, you know, writing on the wall and all that. Eggsy’s bi, not stupid.”

He’s a clever one, and he’s got his priorities in order. What else is there to say? They’re in looooove.

“…and yet all Eggsy finds himself needing is that rare fleeting moment in which Harry passes by, a stray comet crossing his path.”

Sticking the shooting-star metaphor (though comets aren’t meteors) in various places because I can. Also, though, Harry is the vehicle through which Eggsy’s hope for a better life comes true.

“Everything else, Eggsy thinks, can wait until after then. Later, he tells himself as he lies awake at night, the curve of Harry’s lips on his mind, the leap of his heart in his chest unaddressed. There will be time later…

Then a grenade goes off in a lecture hall, and then Eggsy finds himself right back at the beginning, out of time and alone.”

As seen in the lyrics, time is a recurring theme in this fic: Eggsy runs out of time to confess, Harry runs out of time to apologise, and then Eggsy runs out of his soul-traded time when he gets shot. The Deal with the Devil comes in precisely because of this – Eggsy isn’t willing to accept that he’s run out of time, and later, neither is Harry.

“Two-thirds into a twenty-kilometre night run, Eggsy glares at the stars sparkling in the night and reminds them you don’t do shit…

Until they do.”

Cosmic coincidence or intentional tempting of Eggsy? A little from Column A, a little from Column B. He’s still holding on to the last vestiges of the idealistic notion of wishing upon a star, and having the stars actually grant one (1) wish would push him a little more in that direction, while also setting him up for greater disappointment and resentment later!

“Above him, as though in answer, the flickering light of the stars winks back, hopeful and glimmering, like a promise from a benevolent universe.”

Personification! There’s an excellent reason why the stars seem almost alive and sentient, at least in this fic.

Bring him back, he demands, the words part spite and part despair. Above him, brilliant and blazing, meteors rocket to their deaths and fizzle out one by one, taking with them the emptiness of his rage. I’ll trade you anything if you bring him back.

So my favourite work is The Picture of Dorian Gray, and the corruption/perversion of beauty is something I personally enjoy exploring. How can we take a bunch of beautiful things (the night sky, a meteor shower, the stars) and attribute to them a sort of tragedy/terror in their beauty? Dunno. I like to think I’ve done it somewhat well over this fic.  

In the armchair where Chester King had sat and handed him a gun, someone sits nursing a glass of scotch. “Hello, Eggsy. Care for a drink?”

Why is Arthur’s office also the Devil’s office? Jokes about Chester King being the literal Devil aside, I think having Eggsy constantly revisit the place where it all started going wrong – dare I say his own personal hell? – is fitting. What better way to convince a man to sell his soul than to bring him back to the beginning of the end and show him you can fix this for a small, small price?

But there is one truth achingly, excruciatingly familiar to him, one thing he knows not by training but by a lifetime of hanging in there by the skin of his teeth: second chances don’t come often, not to people like him. Second chances don’t ever come back, and some of them don’t come at all unless bought for with blood the way Dad did seventeen years ago. Seventeen years of snatching tomorrows from the hands of an uncaring universe, and now a second chance — both his and Harry’s — sits in front of him in that stupid armchair, empty crystal glass in hand, waiting.

A central motivation for Eggsy in this fic is seizing an opportunity when it presents itself. His canon backstory makes it clear that opportunities have been in short supply all his life, and I think he’d be acutely aware of this fact. Coupled with grief and love, it makes him all the more likely to accept Mephistopheles’ deal.

It’s like being dunked into ice water, like being turned inside out and torn apart, scattered in a million pieces across space and time unending.

The stranger throws his empty glass onto the hearth, where it shatters into sparkling fragments upon the logs that shimmer and gleam like stars. The flame hisses, roars and leaps out of the fireplace, licking at Eggsy’s calves like a promise, a premonition, burning—

Star references! But also, flames of hell foreshadowing.

Eggsy jolts awake to find sunrays spilling through the window into a house he has no memory of going home to, sunlight warm against his legs where he must have kicked the covers off in restless sleep. It is morning. He is in his bed, alone.

If the stars at night are a dark and terrifying force in the story, surely morning is a positive one? Except the sun is a star too. Hehe.

…an effort that Roxy lays waste to when she bursts into his office at half past noon and slaps his laptop shut just to tell him about Merlin’s latest phone call. A frazzled lady calling in to the Kingsman main line with only the words Oxfords, not brogues to identify her, begging to speak to literally anybody. A previously unidentified person has just woken up in the mortuary of a hospital and demanded that they call this number, but he won’t say anything about who he is or what’s happened to him, and can someone please come get him?

Roxy doesn’t appear all that much in the fic, chiefly because this is meant to revolve around Hartwin and how we get to a point where they’d both sell their souls for the other person, but I love her and want to write more of her. The phone call line was second to be written (after the first line of the fic) and has stayed exactly as it was in previous drafts.

In the half-hour of pre-takeoff preparations, mind trapped between an English manor he has already left behind and a Kentucky hospital he won’t arrive at for eighteen more hours, he wastes the minutes away mindlessly flicking through several social media apps, their content a passing torrent of information that slips past his consciousness and away into the unknown. Celebrity is pregnant. Jamal’s got a new jacket. Bitcoin. Celebrity is dating other celebrity. Meteor shower peaks tomorrow. Ryan’s found a hundred quid on the pavement. Something about cryptocurrency. Personality test about a horse or a lightbulb. Celebrity affair. Celebrity divorce. AI. Bitcoin, again.

Research I didn’t think I’d need to do but ended up exploring: flight times from place to place, but also social media trends and topics in 2015-2016.

Before Eggsy leaves, he fishes out the worn Kingsman medal from his pocket and presses it into Harry’s palm. It sits like a talisman in his grip, fingers curled loosely around it. On some level, Eggsy thinks, it is. It did save him at least once, so what’s a second time?

Lee’s medal! I like to think it signifies different things to Harry and Eggsy – for Eggsy, it’s his second chance, a symbol of hope; for Harry, it’s the sign of one of his greatest failures, a symbol of guilt. Therein lies the duality of this fic and of Harry and Eggsy’s motivations for selling their souls. (More on Harry’s in the commentary on later chapters.)

That night, he dreams of the rooftop again, of sitting under an ink-black sky full of stars. They flicker and wink at him, parties to a secret between him and the universe.

At the end of the chapter, all is well! Sort of. Not entirely.

[hyuccubus]

Heads Up 7 Up!

Finally responding to the tag from @toribookworm22, who has been a kind presence on Tumblr while I got back into a headspace to share writing with the world. I owe her a thanks 😊 I'll tag @laguettler, @fayewynnskelton, @minutiaewriter, @queenofimaginedworlds, @jamieanovels, and @diamond-creates The snippet below is one I'm proud of, but it is a bit emotionally intense and references things like choosing to die and bigotry, so if you've already had a bad day, save it for a sunnier day. I'm on the other side of some rainy days myself, but I did use them to get some potent things down for the draft. Don't be afraid to ask for context, Pound of Flesh has a pretty lofty concept, though not so far fetched as to not feel like a potential future * * * *

“You really think people like that would ever respect me?” Val’s voice had raised itself from meekness to a tone of metered anger.  “They’d always find a reason to hate me. If I’m not a freak, I’m a pervert, and if I’m not a pervert, I’m a headcase. I will never be enough for them, I will never be what they want, and I’m not gonna think about what I want to do based on their backwards, selfish ideas. It is my body, and it’s my choice, and right now this feels like the best one for me. I’m not going on some debt creditor’s leash for the rest of my life. I’m not hiding who I am to climb the ladder high enough to get a job with the benefits I need. I’m not breaking my back every day in exchange for maybe getting what I really want. I’m not doing any of it. I’m giving this opportunity everything I’ve got. I guess you should just hope they reject me.”

“It is your choice. I’m just really afraid for you. You wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t serious, but Val, you’re backed into a corner here. I get that, and I want to be there for you and support you, and this is support. What they’re doing… it’s just sick. They’re exploiting desperate, poor people for money and fame. You don’t deserve to be used like that.”

“I don’t think I do. I just don’t see what other choice I have.”

“Just… think about what I’m saying, Val. We can figure something out. I believe that. You don’t have to resort to this.”

“Will you still love me if I do?”

Cota paused for a moment. “I’m kinda surprised you think there’s much of anything you could do that would make me stop loving you. Of course I’d love you, Val. You’re my best friend. I’m just going to be upset that you’d think you have to go through so much pain.”

“It already hurts, Val. Every day. Every time I get dressed, or look in the mirror, or think about a friend I don’t get to talk to anymore. Every time I see a story about another kid, half my age, that just… decided being dead was easier than this. Every time someone treats me differently, like I’m a fucking alien. It hurts so much, and I just want all of it to mean something. I want that pain to have a healing moment. Everything else is just a band-aid. Every other way, I get the body, but I have to pay for it the rest of my life. I get the face, but I get let go at my job I busted my ass boymoding at for ten years because of ‘downsizing’. I get the voice, but I’m stuck hoping another loan forgiveness bill passes through a government where half of them would hang me before they shook my hand if they thought no one had a camera when they did it.”

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #94

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please enjoy.

Read the rest of Passable. here on Tumblr! This is the last part of episode one, so you'll want to be caught up to understand what's going on.

It was all very scientific, very controlled. Noah, the busboy, was blindfolded and tied to a wood chair naked from the waist down, right in the middle of the living room. Brayden was similarly nude, though he wore a very long shirt. That way, you - the studio audience - couldn’t see anything.

“Are we ready?” Brayden asked Alice.

“Yes,” she replied, “Everything is in position. I have the coin to flip, my notebook full of survey questions, and a pen to fill them in.”

Brayden gave her a thumbs-up. “Ready to part the red sea, Noah?”

“Y-yes. Yes!” The busboy replied, clearly eager to begin the research.

“Hold on,” Alice whispered. “You’re on your period?”

“Yeah,” Brayden replied. “Why do you think I’m so horny?”

Alice nodded. “Okay, I’ll need to add that to the procedure notes.”

She flipped a coin and showed it to Brayden. Tails. He gave a salute and proceeded to approach the test subject. Alice clicked her pen and watched intently.

~

Lily and Hazel walked through the hallway of the apartment building. Both laughed at whatever it was that one of them had said, but Lily had a lump in her throat. She was moments away from her first time with a cis woman.

“Anyway,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I’m not sure if my roommates are here or not, but I’m sure we can get the bedroom to ourselves.” She pulled out the key and shakily inserted it into the lock, missing several times. Hazel gently helped her push it in.

“Hey,” she purred. “No need to be nervous. I won’t bite… unless you want me to.”

Lily released an awkward high-pitched squeal in response, nodded incoherently, and unlocked the door. It opened to reveal a disarming display: Brayden riding the loudly moaning busboy as Alice took notes on the whole thing.

“And how would you describe the sensation you’re feeling right now?” She asked, scribbling something on the page.

“Uh… uhaaahhhh…” The busboy replied.

“Come on, use your words!”

“What is going on here?” Hazel asked, seemingly more aroused than disgusted.

“Oh, uh… just ignore them.” Lily took Hazel’s hand and tried to lead her to the bedroom. “They’re experimenting.”

“Ha. I know all about that,” she said, refusing to take her eyes off the performance.

Lily let go of Hazel’s hand. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know… college dorms, sharing a room with other girls… we got curious. Who didn’t? Don’t worry though, nowadays I am one-hundred percent straight.”

“You’re… what?”

“I’m straight. Only into men now. It was a phase, that’s all. What’s the big deal?”

Lily rubbed her forehead. “If you’re only into men, why did you agree to go on a date with me?”

“Wait…” Hazel finally took her eyes away from the center of the living room and looked Lily up and down. “Are you… not a femboy?”

Lily wasn’t sure how to react to that question, so showed every emotion on her face all at once in a statue-like paralyzed expression.

The door opened and in walked Sarah and Peter. Sarah was mortified by what she saw, and Peter was too.

“What…” Peter stuttered. “What kind of sick pervert are you?!?”

The busboy moaned.

Sarah’s eyes went wide. “No, no, no, you don’t understand! I have nothing to do with this!”

“Ha!” Alice laughed performatively. “This was practically your idea, Sarah.”

“Thanks, Alice, thanks. Thanks a lot!”

“I don’t think I should be here…” Peter said, doing a sign of the cross as he backed away, panicking.

“I don’t either!” Hazel said, moving towards the door. She hid behind Peter, bracing herself against his body. “That horrible mannish woman tricked me into coming here!”

“Hey!” Lily yelled, incensed.

“Will you accompany me home?” Hazel asked Peter, appealing to his masculinity. “I don’t feel safe.”

“Sure,” he said, glaring at Sarah. The two walked away.

“That’s a cute nose ring,” Hazel said, as Sarah slammed the door behind her.

Sarah frowned at Lily. “Your reverse-trap stole my boyfriend.”

“Come on…” Lily said, thousand-yard-staring toward the sex act in the middle of the room. “He wasn’t really your boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Alice added. “You didn’t even have sex.”

“We kissed!” Sarah sighed and shook her head. “He was Catholic anyway.”

Lily, Sarah, and Alice silently watched as Brayden continued to ride the busboy. Lily bit her lip and looked at the others.

“Do we have any more of that coffee?”

[evansbby]

took me a half hour to finish it, but.. god. from the moment we see omega, we’re immediately drawn to her the way all the poyt!boys are. steve. peter. bucky. but the captivating love between steve and omega is just… wow. i’ve HATED steve for the way he’s been, his refusal to break himself out of his big bad alpha mindset. the ending was everything i needed and wanted. love, safety, comfort. yes, it was hard and a long journey and painful but they pulled through and seeing steve with little rosie and being so soft and careful with her and UGH. i just love it. i LOVE this. from omegas growth and the way she defends and protects herself from bucky to STEVE’S growth and the way he BELIEVES her. it’s him being confident in his love of omega, in her faithfulness to him. he knows she wouldn’t cheat on him when before his insecurities led him to believe maybe she would. AND MRS. SARAH ROGERS? i LOVE her. and mr. rogers heart eyes for her? i loved that even more. another little note, steve saying she’ll be fine. dad said she’ll be fine so she’ll be fine, god, that broke my heart and i could see steve literally pretending everything is okay but internally being so goddamn afraid and in denial. them being parents and steve watching omega with just?? such adoration??? and being OPEN and listening and loving and just everything we ever needed him to be. thank you. thank you for being such an incredible writer and creating this.. whole universe. with bucky. and sam. and steve. and omega. and rosie. mr. and mrs. rogers. thank you, you beautiful soul.

Bestie let me just say this first: DAMN YOU ARE A FAST READER! Like half an hour?!? To read all that!?! Wow! I’m replying to this message days later and putting it as a draft to post later this week, but I remember reading this on the night I posted it and I was sooo shocked how quickly you read it!

I’m so happy you commented on the growth of the two main characters! This chapter ultimately was all about growth, with Steve but also with omega! In many ways, they are still the same. Steve will always be domineering and controlling and he has his set views BUT it’s in the little things and tweaks to his character, how he’s just that little bit softer 🥹🥹 (but only with omega and their BABY GIRL🥺🥺)

And omega is still shy and insecure and awkward and quiet… but she was able to stand up for herself at the very end. (Tbh she always stood up to Bucky, if you look back. Every time they had an interaction, she stood up to him in some way, which I love. It’s just this time she REALLY told him what she thought)

And yes 🥺 Steve in denial about his mother’s sickness. In a way it’s very befitting, we all know how delulu this man is! But yeah, I wanted it to be very heartbreaking.

Thank you soooo much bestie!!! 💖💖🙏🏼🙏🏼😭