#Imagine a giant blindly fumbling for their glasses only to pick up a tiny instead

[clumsiestgiantess]

There’s a giant roaming around the countryside destroying everything in their path.  Usually it’s large swaths of forests or farmland that they simply trample over and move on, but last week the giant walked straight through a town as if it wasn’t there — crushing homes underfoot and plowing through the local market.

You’ve had enough.

Taking your sword, a lantern, and your trusted horse, you ride out to the feared giant’s lair to slit its throat while it sleeps.

You arrive while everything is cold and asleep — entering the vast open cavern where the massive form of the monster lays across the floor on its side.  Lantern in hand, you creep up to its face and raise your sword.  However, as you do, the giant stirs.  Its maw opens wide with a yawn big enough to easily swallow you whole, and you hesitate fearfully.

The thing’s eyes blink open, pupils dilating as they focus on you, barely much taller than one of its eyes.  You fear that this is the end of you; a sharp inhale like a gust of wind rushes past as the giant wakes.

“I.. I can see?  I can see you!”

This is it, the end.  Your sword clatters to the ground as you begin begging for your life, but you’re interrupted by the giant.

“No, I.. I haven’t seen anyone in so long!”

Hesitantly, you ask what they mean.  When you mention the whole town full of other people they destroyed, the giant sits up slightly, appalled.

“I did no such thing!  I would never use my strength to hurt those weaker than me!  That would be cruel.”

After a confusing conversation, you realize: the giant — a rather kindhearted person, as it turns out — is extremely nearsighted.  They’re so tall that they can’t see where they’re walking, and so big they can’t tell when they’re stepping on something.  They only saw you because you were about a foot from their face, and they were only wandering around in search of food.

Now it’s you and the terrifying-looking (but actually rather nice) giant against the rest of the world who (rightfully) sees them as a monster.   …and they don’t even know if you’re with them 99% of the time.

[jeserai]

blooming day (1/2)

for @perfumermista​ , happy valentines day!

If someone were to ask, Adora would say that her favorite thing about Catra is her laugh, or perhaps the light in her eyes when she gets excited about something. Or, no—it’s the sleepy rasp her voice gets each morning, and the way little curls always manage to escape her top knots no matter how carefully she ties them. It’s all the little things, she’d say, the little things that make Catra who she is.

If someone were to ask, Adora would say that her favorite thing about Catra is her laugh, or perhaps the light in her eyes when she gets excited about something. Or, no—it’s the sleepy rasp her voice gets each morning, and the way little curls always manage to escape her top knots no matter how carefully she ties them. It’s all the little things, she’d say, the little things that make Catra who she is.

She’s not in love with Catra though, she’s sure of it. Catra is her friend, her best friend, her roommate. Sure, Catra’s probably the person that knows her the best, and yes, they have done romantic things before, but—

They’re just friends. Best friends, but still, just friends.

The flower petals that are now staining her bed sheets only confirm that.

Before she can even begin to think about what this means, Adora hears the familiar sound of Catra’s footsteps stopping in front of her door, and she just barely manages to shove the flower petals beneath her pillow before Catra opens the door with a sleepily murmured greeting.

“Could you knock?” Adora complains, but she obediently moves over for Catra, who wordlessly shuffles closer and lets herself collapse onto the bed, her eyes closing as she curls up into a tiny ball with a huge yawn. Adora doesn’t hide her endeared grin as Catra blindly fumbles for the heavy comforter to tuck herself in; she’s long since used to what Catra calls her ‘morning nap’, and if she has to stifle a cough when Catra snuggles into her blankets, well. No one needs to know.

After a moment, Catra turns her head just enough to squint up at Adora through one eye, scowling as she catches Adora watching her. “Stop staring at me and come lay down,” she grumbles, and Adora snorts out a laugh before obediently melting into Catra’s space, lying facing her. Catra tangles their legs and fingers together like it’s nothing and sighs out a gentle breath that sends Adora’s heart racing as she counts each freckle that is scattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks like stars.

“Adora,” Catra murmurs, this time without opening her eyes, “stop staring at me.”

Like always, Adora is helpless to obey Catra’s every wish, so she hums out a quiet noise of acceptance and closes her eyes, though she does not intend in the slightest to sleep. And how could she, with Catra so close? Her every breath stirs Adora’s bangs and sets her heart to racing, and as the gentle rise and fall of her chest evens out as Catra slips back to sleep, Adora blinks her eyes open, mapping out every soft curve and line of her face. The constellations her freckles make across her skin, the tiny divot just next to her left temple from an old childhood wound, the beauty mark that rests distractingly close to the corner of her mouth. Her lips, soft and plush, the wisps of curls that halo her face in sleep. Adora studies Catra like she is a painting, like she is something to be loved and revered and worshipped, and, well. Perhaps she is.

The tickle in the back of her throat comes back then, as Adora imagines reaching out to tuck Catra’s hair behind her ear, and before she can cough again—cough and wake Catra, cough and be forced to admit the truth that is beating inside her heart and blossoming inside her lungs—Adora carefully steals out of bed, making her way into the kitchen. As far as she knows, they’ve both got the day off, so Adora decides to make a late breakfast for Catra to wake up to. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and on a whim, smoothies, made from the fruit they picked up at the open-air market over the weekend.

Just as Adora finishes pouring the smoothies into glasses, her bedroom door squeaks open and Catra pads out, and the confusion on her face quickly fades into joy when she sees what Adora’s done. “I didn’t know you were going to make breakfast, I would’ve helped,” she mumbles, and she suppresses a yawn as she passes on the way to help set the table.

“Did I wake you?” is all Adora asks in response. Smoothies done, she puts the blender in the sink and then grabs the butter from the fridge and the syrup from the cabinet next to it. Catra makes a quiet noise to show that she’s heard but doesn’t respond, instead sliding into her seat and waiting for Adora to do the same before she begins to pick out her pancakes from the giant stack Adora’s made.

“I still can’t believe that you actually like burnt pancakes, dork.”

“They’re not burnt, they’re just—a little crispy! It’s best that way, seriously.”

Catra wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, and Adora watches as she carefully spreads first a layer of butter and then a layer of syrup across her first pancake. It’s such a small thing, but it’s always so endearing, how daintily she eats, and Adora raises her glass to her lips to hide her grin as Catra now starts slicing her pancake into tiny pieces. By now, she knows what Catra will say if she asks why she does it—it’s quicker to eat it like this, you absolute heathen—just like Catra knows what Adora’s argument will be whenever she gripes about her just slightly burnt pancakes. Their friendship is built on playfully rehashed arguments and cups of too-sweet hot chocolate, skinned knees and paint on skin, meals spent together and endless days at the beach, and Adora wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Okay, I’m gonna ignore the dopey grin on your face, you weirdo.” Catra’s voice jars Adora from her idle thoughts, and as she snaps to attention, Catra tucks her right leg under her left, sitting in that odd way that she always claims is comfortable despite Adora’s disbelief. “Do you have work today?”

“No one’s called, so I have a free day so far. Why?”

“I’m just stuck on this piece...if you had time, could you…?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

Catra takes a few more bites of her pancake before answering, “I took on this client because I thought it’d be interesting...you know, change of pace and all that. But I’m stuck, I’ve never been this stuck before. They want something on that old proverb, you know, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. It’s interesting, and I want to do it, and it’ll pay well, but I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, what have you thought of?”

Catra scowls, wrapping a curl around her finger and winding it round and round as she thinks. “I mean, monkeys is an obvious thing, but I don’t want to do obvious. People too, it’s just so...safe.”

Adora nods, casting her gaze around their tiny beach house as she thinks. “Something abstract…something...oh, what if instead of hands covering, you use something else?” And then, as she spots the bouquet of sunflowers that Perfuma had given her in thanks of a job well done. And— “What about flowers?”

Catra frowns, but it’s considering, intrigued. “Flowers, huh? That’s...actually not that bad of an idea.”

“Aw, thanks, I do get them sometimes. Do you want me to pick some up from Perfuma’s later?”

“I’ll come with you, if that’s fine…?”

“Of course, we can leave whenever you’re ready.”

Catra nods and gives Adora a tiny, pleased grin before turning back to her breakfast with a pleased little hum. “Then we can leave as soon as we get dressed.”

Adora nods and, just because she knows it’ll gross Catra out, she piles the rest of her eggs and bacon in her pancake to make a sandwich. It actually does taste good, and the added disgust on her housemate’s face just makes it all the more worth it.

But all too soon enough, their breakfasts are finished, and they quickly load up the dishwasher before heading back to their rooms to get dressed. It’s to be another hot, sticky day, apparently, and before she can open up her messaging app, Catra texts her first.

Catra: you wanna go to the beach after?

Adora: u read my mind 

That decided, Adora tugs on an old red one-piece and throws a loose tank top and swim shorts over it. Her crocs are out in the hall, and Catra is waiting there as well, dressed similarly in a huge T-shirt with the sleeves cut off (that Adora is pretty sure is one of hers, the more she looks at it) and slides. Her hair is done up in two buns just like usual, and loose curls frame her face, and—

“Took you long enough, princess,” Catra grumbles. Adora snorts—because Catra’s always the one that takes longer to get ready when it really counts—and brushes passed her, trusting her to lock up behind them as she takes the stairs down, Catra close behind.

Adora’s yellow bike is still locked up on the rack outside their building, and Adora quickly unlocks it before patting the seat fondly and hopping on. Catra easily hops on right behind her, pressing close despite the heat already seeping through their thin clothes, and if Adora breathes in deep, she can smell the faint lavender notes of Catra’s perfume, and even more faintly, sea salt on the warm ocean breeze.

“You ready?”

“Always, princess,” Catra says. Adora feels her voice just as much as she hears it, and she pushes off with a grunt. It’s always hard at first, biking for two, but Adora loves the burn and ache in her muscles, and besides, all of the shops are at the bottom of the hill, so she doesn’t have to work for long. But she does anyway, pedalling fast as they approach the crest of the hill just to hear Catra shriek with laughter as they fly down it. It’s the squeaky laugh that Adora loves best, the one that she sometimes finds herself wanting to kiss straight from Catra’s mouth.

When they reach Perfuma’s shop, Adora waits for Catra to hop off before leaning her bike against the storefront. Then she turns to her still smiling roommate, carefully fixing her flyaway hair before following her inside.

Inside is cool and Perfuma is talking to the roses, though she looks up and smiles wide when she sees Adora and Catra standing in the entryway. “Oh, hi! I don’t have any deliveries for you Adora, but it’s so lovely to see you both!”

“I know, we’re just here to pick some flowers up for one of Catra’s projects.”

“Is that so? What kind?”

“I’m not really sure, honestly. I know about flower language, and I want to incorporate that if I can. Something having to do with sight, hearing and speaking.”

Perfuma nods, considering, then snaps her fingers and nods in excitement. “Okay, so I can think of a few right off the bat! For sight, lavender roses for love at first sight, and red daisies for beauty unknown to the possessor. Hearing...irises for good news, and pansy for thoughts. And speaking, almond flowers for promise, and ambrosia for reciprocated love. Does that sound good?”

Catra shrugs and Adora’s eyes fall to the thin straps she can see peeking out from beneath her shirt. She quickly looks away, back to Perfuma, who is flitting around the room, gathering up flowers with a happy smile on her lips. Her gaze lands on Catra again as if tugged there, and as Adora stares at the delicate curls kissing the back of Catra’s neck, she feels another tickle in the back of her throat. She coughs thickly, and when Catra twists around to make a face at her, all Adora does is stick her tongue out.

“How about this?” Perfuma asks then. She’s got a whole bunch of flowers, enough to make a pretty, variegated bouquet, but she separates them into three piles at the front desk. “These are for sight, these for hearing, and these for speaking.”

The first pile has deep red and pale lavender flowers, the second vivid purple and yellow, and the third the faintest pink and bright orange. Catra’s squinting at them as if trying to picture them on her canvas, and Adora may not have her eye for art, but she’s absolutely sure the end result—with these gorgeous colors and Catra’s skill—will be absolutely striking.

Finally, Catra nods. “Yeah, these are good.”

“That’s wonderful! I’ll wrap them up and—”

“Oh, Perfuma, can we leave them here actually? We were planning on going to the beach, we can just pick them up on the way home.”

“Of course, Adora! They’ll be right here, on the house!”

“Perfuma, we couldn’t—”

“Nonsense, you’ve done so many favors for me, especially in this heat wave. Plus, they’ll be used for art—that’s the best thing. They’re on the house, okay?”

Catra elbows Adora before she can respond and quickly says, “Thanks, Perfuma, we’ll be back in a few hours,” before all but dragging Adora from the shop and back out into the heat. Luckily, the bike is still in the shade, so the seat doesn’t burn when Adora gets on again, and she patiently waits for Catra to wrap her arms around her waist to begin to pedal to the beach. The breeze now does nothing to stop her from sweating, and by the time they make their way to the ocean shore, even Catra—who claims to never sweat—has a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

They hadn’t brought towels, or sunblock, Adora realizes then, and if Catra notices or cares, she doesn’t say anything, just pulls her shirt over her head, kicks off her shoes and stares impatiently at Adora as she waits for her to do the same. Once she has, Catra reaches out to lace their fingers together as she leads them towards the water, which is somehow still cold and sends them both running back to the sand.

And she knows her arms will protest later, but that is a problem for future Adora, she decides, and so she easily scoops Catra into her arms and ignores the cold of the water, carrying them deeper and deeper, until she’s soaked up to her chest and Catra starts to get wet too. She’s got both arms wrapped tight around Adora’s neck, and though she doesn’t complain, her whole body is stiff. When Adora glances down at her, more than ready to tease her, she freezes, because. Catra is staring up at her, and her grip has loosened, and she does not seem bothered by the water anymore. All she is preoccupied with is just...looking at Adora. She is studying Adora like she is a painting, like she is something to be puzzled out and captured and admired. It makes the breath catch in Adora’s throat, and her heart skip a beat, and flower petals begin to bloom again in her lungs, so she does the only thing she can think to do, and dunks them both, hoping to god that the shock of cold water will cool her burning cheeks and calm her racing heart.

When she resurfaces, Adora is now holding a scowling, shivering Catra, and for a moment, she feels guilty. She’d forgotten how bad Catra is with the cold, and she’s more than half expecting her to yell, or throw a punch or try to get away, but all Catra does is lean the side of her head against Adora’s chest, sighing in something that Adora almost thinks is contentment.

Now would be a good time to tell Catra about the cough, about the flower petals, about the feelings she has been trying to deny for so long. Catra would laugh and roll her eyes, thinking it a joke, and then bluntly turn her down upon realizing that it wasn’t. And then it’d be awkward, and their friendship would be ruined, and then Catra would move out, and—no. It’ll be better to keep it hidden than risk losing Catra entirely, and these little moments are more than enough.

“Do you want to get out?”

It takes a long few minutes for Catra to respond, but she shakes her head, both eyes closed. “This is good.”

And she’s right. This is good.

In the end, they don’t get out of the water until Adora’s arms begin to ache and she reluctantly reminds Catra that she’ll have to bike them both home. Catra sighs, but agrees readily enough, and Adora waits as long as she can to put her back down on her own two feet. Once on the shore, Catra reaches for Adora’s hand again, tugging her to the wet sand on the very edge of the beach to try and find smooth stones and pretty shells to paint later. Once she finds some that she’s satisfied with, she gives them to Adora to hold, and they scour the beach until Adora’s arms are full and they are both fully dry and hot again in the hazy summer heat.

“Do we have ice cream at home?”

Adora thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “I think we used the last of it for sundaes the other day. Do you wanna stop at Brightmoon?”

Catra wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to, but…”

“What? You and Bow get along fine, don’t you?”

“He’s fine,” Catra agrees sullenly, “but I don’t like her. I don’t even want ice cream anymore.”

Adora snorts and shakes her head, biting the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. “How about we pick up the flowers, and I’ll drop you home. Then I can shower and go to Bright Moon. Sound good?”

“Only if you get me cookie dough.”

Anything you want, Adora wants to say, I’d get you anything you wanted. What comes out instead is, “Of course, dork. You ready to go, then?”

Catra considers for a moment, then nods. As they walk back to their clothes and then to Adora’s bike, they remain silent, but it is the comfortable kind, and Catra’s brows are furrowed as she trudges through the sand and Adora knows she’s thinking about her newest project; Catra’s always been a bit of a perfectionist, especially about work, but Adora loves that about her. Catra’s passionate, and it shines through in everything she sketches, paints, photographs. Even her attempts at sculpting are wrought through with love and resolve. Maybe that’s what she ended up falling for first, Adora muses, the way Catra shows her love, with her hands and her eyes and her mind.

That has to be it.

Catra’s arms slide around her waist again as she hops on the bike, and Adora pedals them lazy and slow just to feel the breeze warm against their faces and the sunlight, warmer still, on their backs. It’s a short trip, barely five minutes, and this time when they reach Perfuma, they find her outside, watering the flowers on display in front of the shop. She looks up when she sees them approach, placing her watering can down before calling out, “I was just about to call you!”

“What’s up?”

“Well, Mermista, or, you know, Salineas, not Mermista, really, but—anyway. Salineas needs some flowers for an event they’re having tonight. I’ve already packed them all up, they’re ready in the back room.”

“Oh.” Adora glances at Catra, already feeling guilty. Biking from Perfuma’s to Salineas, taking Catra and her flowers home, and biking to Bright Moon and back home...

As if reading her mind, Catra shakes her head and reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind Adora’s ear. Her smile is drenched in fondness and tinged with a bit of regret, and her hand is soft and warm against Adora’s cheek. “It’s okay, princess. I can walk, you know.”

“But that doesn’t mean you should have to,” Adora murmurs, leaning into Catra’s hand for just a moment, “I don’t want you to have to.”

“Just come home quickly and I might have it in me to forgive you. Okay?”

And it’s not, but—“Okay, I will.”

Before either of them can say any more, Perfuma clears her throat and Catra steps back as if burned, looking anywhere but at either of them as she grabs her bouquet of flowers and hurries out of the shop. From the brief glance she’d gotten as Catra passed, Adora saw that her cheeks were just about as red as her own felt, and upon looking over at Perfuma, Adora finds her grinning, far too innocent to be genuine.

“So...you two are pretty close. Something you’d like to tell me?”

“We’re just friends,” Adora mumbles, and she knows it sounds like flimsy denial, but. That’s all they’ll ever be.

“You never know,” Perfuma shrugs, but—she does.

“I guess. Where’d you say you put the flowers?”

“The back room, I’ll bring them out for you. It’s not too many, they just ran out towards the end.”

Adora nods, waiting for Perfuma to disappear into the back room before heading out to her bike. At this point, Catra is just about halfway up the hill, and Adora reluctantly turns away from her when Perfuma comes out, carefully balancing three boxes stacked on top of each other. She puts them in the basket at the back of Adora’s bike, then stands to the side, waving goodbye as Adora pedals off back down the hill.

Salineas, situated down by the boardwalk, is only about a ten minute ride, and Adora is careful to coast as long as she can, acutely aware of her delicate package. When she reaches the front of the hotel, Sea Hawk greets her with a cheerful wave and a bow. “Adora!” he calls out, “Are those the rest of our flowers?”

“It is! I’ve—I’m gonna come in too, if that’s okay, I just want to say hi to Mermista.”

“Of course!” Sea Hawk takes two of the boxes and waits as Adora leans her bike against the side of the hotel and takes out the last one, and together they step through the revolving doors, Sea Hawk telling her about his latest misadventure. This one involves a boat, a family of turtles, and a box of matches, and Adora has to bite the inside of her lip hard to keep from bursting out laughing.

“And here she is, our radiant Mermista!” Sea Hawk calls. A few of the guests that are in the lobby turn to look at them, and Mermista drops her head into her hands with a loud groan.

“Sea Hawk, you have got to stop coming here! You don’t even work here!” she hisses, and then, more calmly, “hi, Adora.”

“Hey, just dropping these off for Perfuma.”

“Oh, right, thanks. Is she coming tonight?”

“Not that I know of, sorry. Why didn’t you ask her while you had her on the phone?”

Mermista very pointedly makes a face and plays with the ends of her braid, and Adora really can’t help the way her brow raises as a knowing grin spreads across her lips. “Shut up, maybe I didn’t think about that.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. And I’m not staying either, thanks for asking.”

Mermista gives her a look and swats Sea Hawk’s hand from her desk with practiced ease. “Okay, have a good night then, or whatever.”

“I’ll be going to the event, dearest Mermista—”

“No, you are not. Here, go borrow one of the boats for the night. And don’t set it on fire again. And before you ask, I am not joining you, I have work.”

Before their arguing can start up again, Adora begins to carefully edge towards the door, trying to keep out of Mermista’s line of vision before she volunteers Sea Hawk to walk her home like she did last time. She loves Sea Hawk, they all do, but…

Mermista looks over just as Adora reaches the revolving doors, and as panic sets in on her face, Adora mouths an apology and makes a break for it.

adora: im about to leave salineas, mermista was looking for you :)

perfuma: why? did she need more flowers?

adora: ...she wants you to be her date to the event tonight

perfuma: if she wanted me to go, she would’ve asked me :(

adora: just go!! I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you

adora: and if not, you can always come over, catra’s cooking tonight

perfuma: maybe, i’ll let you know

perfuma: and thank you, adora

adora: thank me by asking her out

perfuma: :)

Her first errand done, Adora pockets her phone and gets ready to head to Bright Moon. The local ice cream shop is just off the boardwalk, and it takes just a few minutes to bike down the familiar path. Before she knows it, Adora pulls up in front of the shop, a grin already on her lips as she enters the all too familiar shop. Inside, Glimmer and Bow are arguing behind the counter, though they quickly shut up and paste on friendly, polite smiles at the jingle of the bell above the door.

Once they see that it's just Adora, Glimmer quickly scowls and points accusingly at Bow. "Adora, tell him that crop tops are not appropriate to wear to work—"

"It's summertime!" Bow interrupts, "It's perfect! Adora, tell her it's perfect!"

As both of her friends turn to stare at her, insistent, Adora steps back, holding both hands up in surrender. “I mean—we are on the beach…and I honestly can’t imagine Bow not in a crop top.”

“See! At least Adora knows what’s up.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What brings you here, Adora?”

“Just the usual—”

“A quart of coffee ice cream for you, and a quart of cookie dough for Catra? And uh...where is she, by the way? It’s pretty rare to see you two apart.”

Adora ignores the looks her friends are giving her despite the burning of her cheeks as she fishes out a couple of bucks to hand to Glimmer as Bow works on filling two contianers with ice cream. “We went to the beach earlier and she went home while I made a quick delivery for Mermista. Anyway, they’re having some dinner thing tonight at Salineas, you guys going?”

Bow and Glimmer look at each other, then quickly look away, both spluttering out excuses about the shop, and how they don’t have anything to wear, and—

“You and Catra should go, though,” Bow finally blurts out, “you guys could go together, if you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean, and I choose to ignore it. We’re not together. I...I like what we have.”

“But…?”

And. These are her best friends. Bow was the one that introduced Catra and Adora, and Glimmer was the first person to welcome Adora to Etheria. However much they tease, they really do love her and care for her, and—

“I’ve liked Catra for...a while. I really do like what we have, and I don’t want to...push her or anything. But when I woke up this morning, I coughed up flower petals. And...you know. What that means.”

“Oh, Adora…what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. Hope it goes away, I guess?” Adora shrugs and pulls out her phone as it buzzes in her pocket, her heart skipping a beat when she sees Catra’s name and one unread message.

catra: wya??

adora: about to leave bright moon :) be home soon

catra: okay princess, door’s unlocked

“I really don’t think—”

“Catra’s waiting, I’m gonna head out.”

At that, Bow and Glimmer share another look, but they do nothing to stop her from taking her ice cream and leaving. The bike ride home is quick and going uphill burns Adora’s legs and steals the air from her lungs as she pedals as fast as she can, as if somehow she will be able to outrun all of the feeling tumbling around inside of her chest and the tears she can fill springing up at the corners of her eyes.

It doesn’t work, and by the time Adora gets to their house, she’s breathing hard and still tearing up. She takes a few deep breaths to try and calm herself, then heads inside and upstairs, already feeling just a little bit better as she hears Catra singing to herself.

When Catra turns around and spots Adora at the top of the stairs, the singing abruptly stops as a fierce blush stains her cheeks. “Would you stop looking at me like that?”

With great difficulty, Adora wipes the grin from her lips in a show of acquiescence. “Am I not allowed to listen to you sing? Especially since I did bring you ice cream…”

Catra huffs and snatches the bag from Adora as she passes, and Adora watches in fond amusement as her housemate flounces over to the couch and flops down on it. “Well? Get spoons!”

“Of course, princess,” Adora teases, then goes to grab them both spoons, and Catra a glass of water because she always complains about the aftertaste of ice cream, and then whines until Adora gets her water to wash it away.

When she gets back to the living room, Catra is still frowning, but this time it is more contemplative, and when Adora nudges her in a silent bid to ask what’s wrong, Catra just sighs.

“I need a model for the paintings,” she grumbles, “I’d forgotten.”

“I could model for you?” The words force their way out all on their own, and Adora wants to take them back immediately—she’s never modelled, not even for Catra—but already her friend has turned on her with wide eyes and a bright smile.

“Oh, would you?”

And. Yeah, she would. She’d do just about anything for Catra, Adora realizes for perhaps the thousandth time. She’d do just about anything to see Catra smile like that.

(chapter 1 | chapter 2)