#NEEEEEED those tights

[saiikavon]

(I neeeeeed this.)

This has got to be some kind of joke. Some stupid office prank that some soon-to-be-fired subordinate thought they could get away with. That, or he’s fucking hallucinating.

Those are the only plausible reasons Jounouchi fucking Katsuya would be standing in front of him right now, dressed in a KC workman’s uniform.

The joke-or-hallucination in question visibly squirms in discomfort at what must be a truly demonic expression on Seto’s face, only adding to the taut silence for a long, incredulous moment. Seto’s jaw is clenched so tight he thinks he may actually crack a tooth. Jounouchi continues to fidget for a minute more, then takes a breath as though bracing himself for a long dive off a cliff.

“You called for someone to fix one of the VR monitors?” He sounds completely deadpan, but the tone is ruined by the slight pout gracing his lips. Seto’s gaze remains fixed on the expression for a second more before his jaw finally unlocks.

“How are you here?”

Jounouchi sighs, rolling his eyes as though to say, Here we go again, then begins to repeat his last statement in the same, disaffected tone, and Seto feels a vein throbbing in his temple.

“I meant how are you working here, you brainless monkey!” he snaps. Jounouchi looks barely perturbed to be cut off.

“So am I fired again or can I fix the thing you wanted fixed?”

“Fi—I’d rather throw you into space; maybe then you’ll actually stay the hell away from me and my company!”

“Look, it’s not my fault you own over half the businesses in the city!” Jounouchi snaps back. “Not a lot of options for me elsewhere, either, not when I have to keep reporting that you threw me out on my ass before the first month!”

Fair, but Seto wasn’t about to concede the point out loud. “That still doesn’t answer my question. I have you on an explicit no-hire list. Every single department in this building alone should know your name and face; even newcomers receive this information in training. You shouldn’t have even gotten in the door, let alone gotten a job.”

Jounouchi shrugs. “Dunno what to tell you. I’m here.” He offers nothing else, looking just as run-down by the constant game of employment tag as Seto is. Three jobs before this, Seto didn’t even blink before sending him packing. But it’s been long enough and he’s positively manic over the thought of just where this gods-blessed cockroach of a human being will show up next.

Seto, for the first time in his life, admits defeat, and slumps bonelessly into the closest chair with a sigh.

“Just…tell me you can do the job.”

Jounouchi blinks, brightens like a puppy being offered a treat, and damn near looks like he wants to comment on the moment until Seto shuts him up with a glare.

“I—yeah. Yeah, I can. M’good with my hands, and Nomura-san will vouch for me, too.”

“Then get to it, and don’t speak to me unless it’s important.” He may regret allowing Jounouchi to speak to him at all, but he’ll deal with that as it comes. The grin that Jounouchi directs his way is absolutely sickening.

“On it, boss!” he crows, giving Seto a cheery salute. Then he takes himself and his toolkit over to the busted monitor, whistling to himself.

Seto curls over his desk, groaning at the beginnings of a headache. He pages his assistant, demanding some strong painkillers and what is likely an inadvisable amount of coffee. She accepts without comment or complaint.

Jounouchi continues whistling as he works, and Seto thinks to himself that he’s just going to have to get used to it.

[lilithsterrarium]

New obsession: Twink w/ an affectionate mean streak

Catching a micro in his bedroom—looking somewhat inoffensive compared to the usual person. A svelte man made up of soft, smooth skin and angular features. Almost feminine in appearance as he peers down at them through long eyelashes. Assessing them.

A soft shush when he picks them up, slender fingers curled carefully around their tiny body, not the tight clutch they’re accustomed to. Humming as he delicately runs a finger across their body, rubbing attentively against the hardening tent in their pants. Smiling lovingly as he pets their head.

It doesn’t take him long to decide to keep that micro in a cage, supplying it with food and fresh water. A new pet.

Though, once he comes back from work, the micro knows that there will be no reprieve from his ‘unwinding’ session.

Feeling his glare upon them as those thin fingers wrap around their waist, hoisting them out of the cage and bringing them to his lap. The poor bastard choking on the scent as he presses them into the soft sole of his foot, squashing them into clammy flesh. Making them lick his feet clean whilst he uses them as an impromptu massager. Taking an interest when they try to wriggle free—grasping them with his toes, squeezing tightly.

Their lithe god reminding them that he could just as easily crush them, instead of being so merciful. The feeling of his plushy sole bearing down upon their body almost being worth the pain.

Once their body is battered and bruised enough, the man gently pinches them between a forefinger and thumb to lift them skyward. Earning themselves an affectionate coo, and a kiss that smothers them against his lips.

Then, the micro watches as the world blurs, whisked over to dangle above the opening of their god’s boxers. Dropping his tiny pet down the back of them, and tucking them away, feeling their desperate little gasps against his asshole. His lips twitching into a smirk as he prods them with a crude tease, feeling their mouth making contact.

Leaving them there. Taking a long few hours to ’relax’ with his pet. A tired grunt melting into a pleased groan when he lays down on the couch and turns on the TV. Absentmindedly groping his ass whilst his beloved pet diligently licks at his eager hole. Knowing that his micro will never know another life.

(Waah I’m so sorry, my drabbles are always so long.) —🐻

FBSCBFCJXJAJCJZJ UCJF GOSH <3

(DONT WORRY I. REALLY ENJOY YOUR DRABBLES 😵‍💫💞)

The look of sheer fear on the poor little thing's face when they're spotted, their new owner peering down at them with an expression so difficult to read... they already look divine, it only makes sense they would be a god...

That fingertip lovingly stroking their head, ruffling their hair.... shnddjdjsd GOSH <3

I'd give anything to be their micro... lapping sweat off their sole, moaning as they rub the poor little thing against every inch of his warm, sweat-soaked skin.... the overwhelming muskand scent staining every inch of his new pet~

DHCHDHCJCH NEEEEEED

Lapping so eagerly at their new owner's asshole, twitching pucker adored and treated right.... hchhdhdhda GOSH <3333

[nancypullen]

Wednesday

It’s Wednesday, Hump Day, trash pick up on our street, and by any other name, still just the middle of the week.   It was drizzly and drippy here, which I don’t mind because the rain arrived with chilly air.  I’d prefer snow, but I’ll take it.  I mostly puttered around the house today, trying something new with clay earrings and generally keeping busy with a happy mixture of chores and hobbies. After lunch I drove four minutes down the road to our brand new ALDI .  Whoohoo! We really needed an alternative to Denton’s Walmart and Food Lion and now we have it.  Oh, how I love Aldi’s produce! Since it’s a European grocery chain the cheeses and baked goods are scrumptious too.  This new store is so much nicer than the one we shopped in Mt. Juliet.  Fresh salmon, bison, a variety of chicken sausages (for the tortellini soup I love), and more.  You know your life is stagnant when you visit a new grocery store and feel like you’ve been on vacation.  I did pick up a couple of yummy snacks while checking out the store.  Eating a couple of these while prepping the veggies for dinner is just balance, right?

Buttery and delicious. I regret nothing.

I added those green beans to a plate with rice and Korean BBQ inspired chicken.

Normally I’d make brown rice, because we’ve been told for years that it’s healthier.  Turns out, the nutritional differences are minimal, but brown rice is much higher in oxalates, which I’m supposed to avoid. Doesn’t hurt my feelings to switch to white rice, especially as we eat it so infrequently.   Those green beans are roasted with just a little olive oil and sea salt - really yummy!  Dinner was enjoyed and after I cleaned up we settled in for our nightly viewing of Jeopardy. One thing usually leads to another and we’ll either watch murder or comedy after that.  I get under a blanket and get cozy, but inevitably this is my view...

Miss Molly neeeeeeds attention at night. She will put her little freckled nose in my face until I give her the love she wants.  She is persistent because she knows she will get what she wants.  Behind me, Phoebe is playing floor hockey with a bottle cap and will wear herself out before bedtime. It’s our nightly routine. So our tummies are full, we’re cozy while rain patters on the roof, and this joint is lousy with cats.  Life is good on this Wednesday on the Eastern Shore. I hope your evening is pleasant, too, wherever you may be. It helps if you’re snuggling a kitty. I have an orange one you can borrow if needed. Headed for a bubble bath, Good night, sleep tight. Stay safe, stay well.

[spiltscribbles]

Oooo it’s my birthday today and I neeeeeed my sweet boys, is it too greedy if I ask for you to write something absolutely adores like you always do. I can wait there’s no rush. It would really make my day a whole lot better

~Notes: HI HI BABY!!! I’m so so fucking sorry this is like two days late 😭😭😭 I am a piece of shit and I had an idea and then I scrapped it and then I came up with this crack shit! But I included singling like you wanted!! And ILU endlessly!!! I hope your birthday was at least filled with sunlight and friends and all the adoration you deserve🎉🎉🎂🥳🎈🎈🎈🎊🎊🥳🎁. And I hope this isn’t a shitty gift!😭😭

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Send Me A Prompt<3  |  A Reblog is like a hug!!!!

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The 4 Times People Suspected About Remus and Sirius, and The One Time They Called It By Name

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~I~

Peter notices it first.

He doesn’t know quite what it is, or what it means— Peter doesn’t understand what it entails when he’s watching the way Sirius gently thumbs at a high patch on Remus’s cheek while he’s sleeping on the hospital bed after the first full moon of fourth year, a fraught look in his stormy eyes. Or how Remus’s gaze always search Sirius out first after he’s made a wry comment in the expense of the Slytherins, going alight with the other boy’s laughter. Peter doesn’t comprehend the way it sometimes seems like he’s caught in some sort of static— a negative space that makes him feel out of bounds— when he’s alone with only the pair of them. When they’re all huddled around the common area or their dormitory while James is probably skulking in search of Lily Evans or cajoling the other chasers to have another lap around the court. With Remus lounging on his fourposter, or the sofa, reading one of the infinite books he’s got tucked away in his trunk, and Sirius is quietly  sat by his feet, toying with a non-magical contraption he’s found in Muggle London after sneaking out from his ancestral home while his folks were having a row. And Peter is ordinarily just fiddling with a scroll he has to finish for one of the tougher courses from a bit away, intermittently  glancing at them side long, just waiting for an excuse to leave the suffocating ambiance that feels like it’s been fitted for just the pair of them and not another soul.

But the most peculiar part about all of this is that Peter is accustomed to feeling like the spare, the cast off who’s clinging to the glimmering forms that are James and Sirius, and their ravenous appetite for any and all attention that’s given over because that’s the sort of boys they are— affluent and prominent and radiating with a sort of spark that’s all there own— the sort of boys that others find doubtless that they are something miraculous. But when Peter’s around just the pair of them, in the corner of the galaxy that the marauders have carved for them to rule like kings— It never feels quite so stilted, so weighty. Sirius and James have a gift of making everyone in the room feel like they’re in on the joke, that they could be showered with that same granger just as long as they play in the tableau. Remus and Sirius together feels the contrary of that, like there’s something pregnant lying between them, waiting to pounce. Like there’s an understanding that no one else gets to glimpse at, and no one else should try. An understanding  that’s personal and private and crackling with an energy that is far beyond anything between mere friends, beyond anything Peter could fathom with all his fifteen years.

Idly, over supper after an entire two hours being stuck between that strange tension simmering beneath the surface of Remus and Sirius, Peter wonders for the umpteenth time on whether he should ask James about this development in their small brotherhood, should ask him if he’s detected the difference there. And if he has, Peter will listen to James’s plan to ensure this doesn’t ruin anything. How whatever is brewing under the surface won’t absolutely ruin them.

But then, from the corner of his eye, Peter sees Sirius— none to gently— piling Remus’s plate with an abundance of the potatoes that Moony likes best, dipping down to whisper something in his ear— something surely lecherous— before tousling his curls in that brash, bombastic way of his that he does with Peter and James too, even if he ends it by gingerly cupping the nape of Remus’s neck with a surreptitious squeeze that ends just as quickly as it began, falling back into conversation with James and Marlene about the Wasps’s chances against the Harpies this Friday night as if it was just an innate action, even if it’s one Peter’s only ever witnessed him doing to Remus.

And even though there’s another full in two days, and even though Remus looks like a walking inferi— pale faced and exhausted posture and circles the color of midnight smudged beneath his eyes— Peter watches the ends of his lips quirk up into the best approximation of a smile Peter’s ever seen on him so close to the wolf breaking through the surface of his body that’s all skin and bones, and he isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but Remus actually looks like he might be glowing over the strange attention that Sirius’s only ever paid to him.

So no… No, Peter doesn’t think he’ll ask James quite yet, reckons that if anything can help his moon plagued friend, that it must be something good, something that shouldn’t be tempered with.

They can figure out how the strange string pulling Remus and Sirius together will alter their brotherhood later on, there’s still time. There’ still a possibility that it won’t devastate everything.

~II~

Lily’s suspected for a while.

The thing is that she’s known about Remus since the end of third year, when he rebuffed the advances of an eager Heleen  Abed, and Lily found him on the ledge of the largest window in the vacant common room— the same one that they regularly commandeer with Mary McDonald to discuss the finer points of Muggle politics and current events, separate from the melting pot of their Gryffindor class that’s composed of either pure bloods or those with their closest Muggle relative being a long dead grandparent. And it was definitely a dangerous, knife’s edge she was playing at, but Lily had sat besides the boy who she’s cultivated a real and true friendship with— one beyond pleasant platitudes and fodder about their course work— and she told him about her cousin Joey with green spiked hair and a mischievous smile adorned with a sparkling stud and how she and Petunia had caught him holding hands with one of his friends from sixth-form in the garden of her Aunt’s cottage, and how even the sneer on her older sisters lips hadn’t deterred Lily from thinking anything but mild indifference about the situation. Only wanting her cousin to always live in that easy effervescence she’s always known when it came to him.

And nothing else was exchanged between them, but Remus had grinned in that barely perceptible way of his, and Lily had nudged his shoulder with her own and then fished out her final handful of chocolate frogs for them to share while they revise their notes for the transfiguration exam coming up. 

Two summers have past since then—they’re in the midst  of their final term of fifth year now— and she thinks that they’ve become even closer, that the frequent late nights in the library for their impending OWLs and their countless prefect rounds has helped forge a real and true bond— especially that whole snag earlier in the year when they had realized they were both snogging Leon Bennett on alternating nights behind greenhouse three. But all of that withstanding, Lily knows that there are still secrets Remus keeps tight to his chest, ones that Lily’s analytical mind— the mind of a potions expert and future healer— has suspected to do with the thin, silvery scars running down his strong hands that are all tapered fingers and slender wrists, and another across his right bicep that she saw when he had changed his robes for a jumper in front of her, and the one cutting down from the bottom of his ear and nearly across the entire length of his neck, ending at the corner of his sharp collarbone. But Lily suspects he’ll tell her about that soon enough, what she isn’t so confident about is him admitting that particularly dazed look he gets when around Black, of all people. The way he stammers his words occasionally and the way he worries on his bottom lip while averting his glance when Sirius is chatting up a very pleased looking girl, and the way he flushes when Lily is ribbing about him in particular. And Lily knows that the foursome of Gryffindor boys had a falling out of sorts before winter hols, that there’s a hairline fracture between them and Remus now— one that she’s sure no one else can pick up on after the way they had seemingly come back together in late January, right before her birthday funnily enough. But Lily’s always been the analytical  sort— the sort to absorb the barebones of a situation so she could conjure a hypothesis that she could prove after careful study.

So Lily knows that it’s something deeper, and she can see  how Remus is reticent around them in ways she’s actually worried won’t be shaken off anytime soon— which is all levels of bazaar considering she’s been telling Remus for years that he needs to shrug off his rowdy mates like a snake shedding an old coat. But before, when she’d barb as much he’d only stick out his tongue and tell her what happens to busybodies, and how she doesn’t really know them at all. But now days, he just looks particularly hurt, and more than a bit put out, and Lily catches him flickering over to wherever Sirius was holding court, longing in a way she couldn’t possibly articulate out loud.

Honestly Lily thinks it’s really quite gracious of her to have dropped the subject completely, rather, she takes up the mantel of his friend that can distract him from all those sorts of woes, biting her tongue over his lingering feelings for Sirius that are more than likely far beyond a passing fancy. And she thinks that maybe that’s a good call, maybe it’s good for Remus to beat down those sorts of emotions  that he’s harboring for the wanker. She knows Remus, and she knows he wouldn’t hold a grudge— even such a quiet one— for no reason at all. Besides, she doesn’t really think it’s her place to tell him how when he’s glancing away, Sirius is holding vigil to him with that same sort of fervor. That Sirius is the one who collects the notes for all his classes on those conspicuous absences of his when Remus is feeling poorly in the infirmary. That Sirius occasionally looks so very gutted when Remus is wilting away from them, when he seeks Lily’s company instead.

She has a heavy suspicion that Remus might already know all of those things— that maybe they’ve already discussed it at length, that maybe the falling out in December has caused a full stop of anything that could’ve potentially blossomed between them. And she just wishes she knew the entire story so she could decide on whether she should be jinxing Black’s face to a putrid orange color, or pushing Remus to actually give him a chance.

Lily just wishes she could read Black as easily as she can Remus, maybe that would help in this experiment she’s testing, because for now she’s just confused as all hell over what exactly Black feels towards him. Well that is until it’s a fortnight before Remus’s birthday, and she’s being bodily dragged into a closet on her way to charms.

“Oi— What the bloody—“

“Language, Evans,” the annoyingly familiar baritone of Sirius Black tsks, lighting up the cupboard with his wand and smirking in that jagged way she’s heard countless girls tittering over, and the one that makes her want to pop him one right against his ridiculously smug face.

“Black,” she says, caustic as all get out with her fists clenched against her sides and her brows making a really resilient effort to meet in the middle. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I hex your bollocks off.”

“Pff, and Jamie thinks you’re some sort of saint.”

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.”

Sirius pulls a face at her, but must understand the credence in the words, because it’s not another moment more before he pulls out a bedraggled looking slip of paper from his robe’s pocket, and thrusts it at her face. So with an indignant huff, Lily opens it up and begins scanning the words— becoming all the more confused when she sees measurements and things like coco powder and melted butter, instead of whatever the hell else she was preparing herself to read.

“I’m being pranked, aren’t I? You’re trying to distract me so you and Potter can do something horrid to the Slytherin’s common room.”

“We’ve actually already done that today,” Sirius jeers, raising up his hands in concession with a cluck of the tongue at her scowling face. “’s from Moony’s mum, all right. I asked her to send me the recipe of this chocolate cake she use to make him for his birthdays before Hogwarts— I just thought… It might be nice is all, and you can sod right off if you look at me like that, Evans, with the soft eyes and all that rot. Are you going to help me or not?”

Lily resolutely ignores the pang to her heart, because God, this really is such a sweet gesture. “And what? you thought I could help you because I’m a bird?” She asks in the most scolding inflection she could muster in the face of this incredibly soppy gift he wants to give Remus.

“None of that, blimey, Evans.” Sirius snarls, obviously diffident, and combined with the faint flush to his cheeks, Lily suddenly realizes why he’s considered one of the best looking blokes in the entirety of their school. “There’s a whole load of Muggle mumbo jumbo, so it was between asking you, or McDonald, and I adore Mary and all, but  she has got such a mouth on her.”

“You should know,” Lily counters with a leer. “She couldn’t stop going on about your date back in October.”

Sirius’s brows hike, and he actually smiles at her— one that’s vacant from all his bravado from his upbringing in his pretentious, pure blood home, and one that isn’t trying to show off. And Lily can’t help but favoringly liken him to an excited pug. “Oh you’re wicked, Evans!” He shrills delightedly. “Oh this is great, you’re just as depraved as Remus, are all prefects like this?”

Lily snorts, shaking her head at him, indulgent. “Never mind that, Black. Most of this stuff can be found in the kitchens below, I’m sure the house elves won’t mind us borrowing anything.”

“And the ingredients that won’t be down their?” He asks worriedly.

“Well, good on you planning this so far ahead of time, we’ll just have to experiment.”

Sirius groans in retort, muttering things about Muggle potions and James thinking he’s getting off with his future wife and other ridiculous things that Lily doesn’t bother to stay and listen to. Though, when Remus’s birthday does roll around, and she sees his countenance go a thousand shades brighter as he bites into the pudding, and Sirius’s grin stretch just that much more across his face in response— their eyes meeting across the room and past the crowds— Well Lily suspects Sirius never really minded any of the things he was whinging on about, not at all, not as long as the result was a beaming Remus.

~III~

Regulus hears about it in the halls.

He’s not much for gossip or that sort of dribble, doesn’t have much patience for anyone outside his house if he’s being at all frank— and even then, it’s not as if he doesn’t frequently find himself escaping to his fourposter for a moment’s quiet. It seems that everyone in this bloody castle are just dimwitted, daft idiots, and Regulus’s never been the sort to offer allowances for that kind of behavior. He’s been raised in the home of a family as close to royalty as Wizards permit, a prince among men. And he was told that he should have patience for the dull folks beneath him, just as long as they have the correct ideals, but sometimes he can’t help but wish they would all just let him be, sometimes feels like he’s being carted around Hogwarts as the perfect pure blood,  like he was nine years old again and being shown off in the parlor of  his home when guests came to call, watching from the sidelines while his mother rave about how splendid of an heir Sirius is turning out to be. How his tutor calls him a genius for any age, and how darling he looks in Slytherin green, and how he’s already mastered three romance languages to help in his spell work. 

And Regulus can’t help but scoff at those contemplations now, thinking of the past summer when his dramatic and brash brother had made a whole production of leaving behind the values that gave him everything he has. How he escaped to that Potter git’s home the way he’s been doing for nearly every holiday since his second year, how he offered Regulus to come along as if he’s a trader just like him. What a risible excuse for an heir.

But Regulus won’t commit such follies, he’ll make his parents proud— even if his father is nearly never paying much mind and his mother goes from raving to sickly in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll carry on the Black legacy, something that his oh so perfect brother never could’ve done. Regulus is only a fifth year, will be turning sixteen in only two months after Sirius’s coming of age, and sure, this might mean he’s still young enough that the Death Eaters don’t find him adequate to fight on the line of fire, but he’ll do it eventually, feels the weight of the letter from Bellatrix praising him for as much resting heavy in his pocket. And if Regulus finds them all a bit too vicious or a bit too excitable and completely lacking a deft hand to make the changes they’re searching for, he shrugs it off. He knows what he must do, and as he stares at his brother from across the valley cusping the lake, he’s only that much more steadfast in the conviction of the fact.

Sirius is sitting and laughing with a group of his Gryffindor mates, the mudbloods, and blood traders that had warped him from the brother he knew to the stranger he is now. And there’s a dark skinned Ravenclaw bird— Meadowes if he remembers correctly from his prefect meetings— and she’s telling some sort of long winded tail with hand gestures and loud cackling coming from the group as she goes on. And Sirius is tossing around a quaffle with Potter— the glint of a handsome, silver watch on his wrist catching in the dying sunlight. And Regulus wonders who had gifted him such a personal passage to adulthood, but is soon distracted by spotting the way Sirius nearly gets smacked in the face with the ball because he was too busy gawking over  at Lupin in such a stripped down, cautious way that it makes Regulus squirm.

He doesn’t know much about the elder Prefect, only that his name had come up nearly as much as Potters during that first year when Sirius would send him correspondence on a frequent basis because he knew how lonely Regulus would get while stuck in Grimmauld all by himself. And then when he began attending Hogwarts, Regulus never could get a good reading on him. He knew Potter because of how his family is infamous for their liberal views and nouveau riche attitudes, and Pettigrews family owns a hokey herb shop in Diagon. All he’s found out about the Lupins is that his father is the son of half-bloods and his mother is a Muggle, and that this mudblood is a reserved, carefully aloof bugger, and that somehow he’s seemingly captured all of Sirius’s attentions that he’s not giving Potter or the clinger ons who follow him around like mindless fools. Beyond that, Lupin and Regulus have only traded a hand full of words whenever their roles of prefects would force them to intermingle, and it’s always been punctuated by Lupin giving Regulus a witheringly cold look anytime they were in close proximity, which is admittedly impressive considering that half the time the sickly bastard looks like he’s about ready to keel over.

So no, Regulus doesn’t know much about him, but he’s heard the rumors. He knows that it’s basically an open secret between the Gryffindor class and selected friends. The fact that  his brother is probably shagging the mudblood, convincing Regulus that Sirius really has never given a toss about the decorum and standards befalling them as the only two Black males of their generation. And he hates his brother  so scathingly right then, hates his little munblood lover probably even more. 

And when he watches Lupin straying his gaze from the novel he was reading while that red haired Muggle born was resting her head in his lap, and Regulus saw the way both of their expressions went a peculiar sort of tender— well that’s the last straw, so he stands up in a huff— so unlike himself— and he cuts the story Mulciber was crowing on about, and he tells them he needs to complete a scroll for Slughorn.

And while he prowls away from the sight of his brother continuing to ruin everything, Regulus plunges a hand into his pocket, and crunches Bellatrix’s letter in his grasp, promises himself to write her back soon, and ignores the ache in his chest that’s only been growing larger since Sirius had left permanently.

~IV~

James’s always known.

Perhaps that’s an over reach, but it’s true enough. He’s known for years, on some level, that the thing between Sirius and Remus is something completely foreign to him. Something completely separate from how Sirius licks his face when James is over sleeping and he wants to be a general nuisance. Separate from how he and Remus have begun discussing anything and everything in the wee hours of the morning, with a spot of tea between them and a blanket on their legs, because Remus can’t sleep from the moon and James has never been able to sleep through the whole night without feeling guilty over it. He thinks it stemmed from when he was younger, when his parents were feeling sickly, and before they were gifted a house elf by a family friend who recognized that the elderly Potters needed just a bit more assistance. 

James never knew whether it was obvious to him because he’s always considered Sirius as his bastard brother since Christmas of first year, and that he’s always trying to make sure that Remus is all right after finding out just how impressively the bloke can keep secrets once Sirius figured out his furry little problem. So he’s not sure what others know, or even what Remus and Sirius  know of what’s happening between them, honestly, there have been so many almosts that James has picked up on over the years. And he still shutters thinking about the near total break that happened with the prank, still isn’t quite sure what had past between them to get Sirius and Remus  speaking with each other once more, but he does know that Remus staying with James, Sirius, and  Peter the past summer after Sirius escaping the twisted place he was suppose to call a home, is what helped indefinitely. And now, a year separate from the prank, things finally feel normal between them.

Well— Erm, not normal per se. Those idiots are still blustering and bumbling and bashfully avoiding one another when anything close to romantic comes up in a discussion or when their hands touch over the Great Hall table or whenever James makes a pointed remark when he catches one of them staring a bit too slack jawed at the other in the midst of something totally bloody innocuous in the eyes of a normal person— EG: Sirius gathering his hair— that’s nearly to the bottom of his neck now a days— into a small knot on the back of his head, or Remus sucking idly on a sugar quill while he’s revising. And sure, James has to deal with the kicks at his ankles, or a spare jinx if one of them is especially pissy, but Lily’s come to join him in the ribbing, so it kind of makes everything all right. Especially when she levels her beautiful, forrest green eyes with his own brown ones, and she actually looks sort of endeared.

Yeah— that’s a fucking amazing feeling all right, and it’s probably the memory of that happening only a few hours ago that has got James all jittery now, far past midnight. So with a tired sigh, he slides open the drapes of his fourposter, is ready to go downstairs for a kitchen raid if Remus isn’t awake— Though once he sets his glasses on, and blinks a few times over to get acclimated with the dark, he’s only a bit stunned to find the shapes of Remus and Sirius crowded on the former’s bed— and they’re really not much more than suggestions beneath the shadows, but it’s enough for James to see Sirius’s head bent low, resting it against the crook of  Moony’s neck and shoulder, while the shorter boy has got his arms wrapped around Sirius’s torso. And it’s nothing obscene, not really— it’s not like they’re nude or anything— but Sirius is shirtless, and Remus does have this blissed out expression painted over his features, that James would bet good money is the same one Sirius has got on if most of his face wasn’t covered by his hair.

And in another breath, Remus’s honey colored eyes flap open, widening exponentially when he catches sight of James, and wiggling around as if he wants to move away from Sirius completely, which is of course stunted when Sirius makes a low noise under his breath, and presses closer so that his mouth is quite literally right against Remus’s neck, and his arms tug him closer.

And James is definitely convinced that he’s the best mate any bloke could ask for when instead of chuckling at the obvious show of territorialism, he just shakes his head indulgently at them, mouthing an “About time plonker,” to Remus, who replies in kind with a hefty, two fingered salute.

This time James has to bite down to prevent his chuckle from spilling out.

“And here I was, about to offer you a snack from our dear house elves.” He whispers, hopefully quiet enough so that only Remus could hear.

“Oh, just bugger off,” Remus retorts, smiling with such mirth that James can’t even feign to be affronted over it, only follows the playful command and tries figuring out just how to give the ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ talk to the pair of them without it coming across insincerely. 

~+I~

Millie was bored until she saw them.

The only reason why Millie got this boring job in this beyond posh restaurant is because her folks reckon that she needs to learn some form of responsibility before university, and she hates it. The pay is absolute shite, and most of her coworkers are all levels of boring, and the patrons are not nearly entertaining enough to try and make up some secret back story of tumultuous affairs or secret agents from the MI6, or a royal from some country on the continent meeting their star-crossed lover.

It’s all just painfully ordinary, and she’s cursing her parents while she chomps on her gum, reading some stupid note by an ugly old fart who left her his number on the receipt. 

Scoffing while she bins it, Millie glances over to the newly occupied table in her section, heart immediately leaping once she gets a good look at the pair of blokes sitting down. 

The sandy haired one is definitely cute in that reserved way her best friend Claire would definitely be mad over— the guy who could read you poetry in French or Italian and then gently kisses the back of your hand. And that’s all and well, but Millie’s every attention is laser focussed on his mate, the one that looks like he can be bloody James Bond with those smoldering eyes and that ink black hair, and God, those cheekbones! Definitely one of those beautiful, Public school boys who’s born and bread by the patrician. And while she takes their orders, she tosses him her most flattering of grins and slips in her giggle that an ex boyfriend compared to silver bells, and is sure to flip her long, chestnut hair enough times so he’d notice, even if she’s pretty sure he’s either pissed or probably more than a bit stoned. (Truly, where the bloody hell would he come up with pumpkin juice? How horrid must that taste). 

Millie may or may not spend an unreasonable amount of time spying at them from where the cooks drop off the completed plates to be sent away. He’s just so bloody good looking, and she can’t believe this awful job has finally brought her such an amazing distraction, and the arse doesn’t even pay her much mind, leaving the ordering and the conversing to his fair haired friend.

Maybe he’s sensitive, she thinks to herself. Maybe he’s just a shy soul. And yes, that must be it! The poor, beautiful sod. She’s sure to make her intentions clear next time she thinks it’s appropriate to top off their waters, because she’s so very  gracious like that.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Millie asks in her most light hearted of cadences, filling up the shorter one’s glass but smiling fully and exclusively to the boy who looks like he should be starring in some sort of Brook’s Brothers advert.

“Ta,” the sandy haired boy says, sounding a bit amused at her dilemma, but it’s kind enough so Millie doesn’t feel brassed off over it. “Do you mind pointing me to the loo?”

“Oh of course!” She crows, suddenly ecstatic as she directs him, finally getting a chance to be alone with the model. Though when she turns her attention to him once the other one leaves to take a leak, she’s kind of confused how he’s staring after him with a glance she vividly remembers on the face of her ex whenever she’d peer back around to ensure he was watching her go— Though, if Millie’s being honest, the model somehow looks simultaneously eager to watch the back of him, but also already disheartened not to have him around in ways she doubts anyone she’s ever gone out with has ever exhibited. “He’s a nice chap,” she states, instead of marinating on the strangeness of this development.

The practical model starts, seems to have forgotten about her presence all together, but then he glances over towards her with those impossibly flattering, pale gray eyes, and he nods disinterestedly. And yeah, yikes. That is a total hit to Millie’s ego.

“Ahem,” she clears her throat, begins twisting her free hand into the material of her apron. “’S nice you guys came for dinner, you don’t see much friends considering how bloody expensive it is here, hah.”

Millie feels herself going absolutely scarlet at the impassive way he drags his gaze up and down her form before taking a swig of his Bellini. “He’s not my friend.”

“Oh,” Millie practically squeaks out, suddenly wonders if maybe he’s a tutor from his class or something? Maybe the model is just taking the cute one out to dinner as a thanks for helping him pass his A-levels? Maybe this is considered cheap in the circles that the model keeps.

“’S our one year anniversary actually,” he tells her, still in that methodical, blasé way of his. And oh. Oh wow! Suddenly everything is snapping into clarity.

The way the two boys had brushed the back of their hands before being seated, how model had trusted the other boy to order for him, how model never looked away from the cute one’s mouth or collarbones or hands as they spoke. How whenever she came around to ask if they needed anything else, it felt like she was intruding on more than just a couple of mates catching up.

Oh Jesus, she feels like such an idiot, and Millie tells the model just as much.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot! I didn’t even put it together.”

Remarkably, the model’s rigid posture goes a bit loose at her apology, and the corner of his thin lips quirk up into a grin. “’S fine, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it, but yeah— Just feels good telling someone.”

Millie nods eagerly, she can’t understand exactly what he means, obviously not,  but she can definitely try to, and if it feels good for him to tell a random bird about something so important, then she’s more than happy to help. “Well the point stands, yeah? He seems like a good sort, you’re lucky to have found each other.”

The model’s grin goes elastic at that, and he looks actually approachable for the first time tonight. “I’m the luckiest bloke in the world that I get to be with him.”

Millie flushes at the intensity embedded into his statement, but thankfully doesn’t have to answer when she hears the sandy haired boy walking closer now, smiling so brightly that there’s a dimple popping up on the apple of his cheek that Millie’s only just noticed— The mirth is a good color on him, she reckons. Makes him look as gorgeous as those boys on the telly dramas her Mum is always gushing about, even his eyes turn more golden than light brown. “You pestering our waitress Padfoot?”

“You know I keep my devilish tongue for you and you alone Moonbeam,” the model—Padfoot cannot be his actual name for heaven’s sake— retorts.

“Lucky me,” the sandy haired boy says wryly as he takes a seat, and while Millie walks away— intending to get them a pudding that’s on the house to celebrate the milestone of their relationship— she peers back around only once and it’s enough to see the tips of their fingers kissing across the table, and their smiles looking like a secret language not meant for anyone else to read. 

.-

My Full Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

[jobean12-blog]

Booyah!

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,725

Summary: You and Bucky use Tony’s time machine to take a trip back to NYC 1995 and visit Fao Schwarz and have a fun night out. 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ 24 hour surprise drabble challenge and Traveling Through Time (which was my idea haha) I decided to do something really sort of ridiculous and silly. Tony built a time machine bc we know he can and the team gets to just have fun with it. It was hard to decide when to go back to but I picked the 90s because it’s part of my childhood. Although, I was way too young to be clubbing then- but I definitely went to Fao Schwarz! haha Anyway, hope you enjoy this. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Silly and fun fluff! Kisses! Some implied sexy fun! It’s just you and Bucky checking out 1995 for a few days, a few fun 90s slang phrases that I hopefully used right HAHA ;) 

“Doll, are you sure this is a good idea?” Bucky looks at you before his eyes scan the time machine in Tony’s lab, the lights blinking sporadically and a low hum echoing off the walls. “I mean, what if we get stuck in 1995?” You give him a good once-over, letting your eyes linger at how nicely his white tee fits across his chest, “listen, you’re gonna love it and you’ll fit right in.” You let your gaze drop to his ass in the tight high waisted jeans before giving your belt a tug and pulling your jean jacket over your shoulders, “let’s go!”

He takes your hand and follows you inside, still unsure about the idea, “I wish this thing looked more like the DeLorean. At least we’d arrive in style. Well, here goes nothing.” Bucky closes the door and takes you in his arms, pulling down the lever and squeezing his eyes shut. For a second it feels like you’re free falling and you shriek, clinging to Bucky in a death grip. When the feeling subsides, you open your eyes and give Bucky a nervous glance. “You ok?” he asks quietly, smoothing some hair from your face. “Yes, you?”

Bucky nods, grasping your hand and pushing open the door of the time machine. “Woah.” You look outside and you’re greeted by the bright billboards of 1995’s times square. The Sony and Panasonic brand names stream across the skyline. “Hey, look at the Coca Cola symbol! That’s so cool!” You start pointing out all the fun things you recognize as Bucky just spins around in a circle, admiring the flashing lights and noises of the city streets.

After turning on the cloaking device for the machine he finally speaks, “ok, this is da bomb! I mean Times Square our time is cool, but this just feels different, lots of energy.” You narrow your eyes at his use of the 90s slang phrase, “are you making fun?” It’s hard to hide your smile when he takes your hand and holds it tightly in his own, exclaiming, “as if! It’s hella good!” You let your laughter loose and clutch your belly, trying to calm your breathing before saying, “let’s start with some toys!” Bucky’s eyebrows raise at the mention of toys and you smack his arm, “not those kinds of toys Buck. Although, we can definitely find some fun shops around here later if you want.”

He winks and lets you lead him away from the crowd to hail a cab. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re going baby girl?” You shake your head and slide into the car, giving the man an address with no name. The driver smiles and takes off, Bucky’s arm sliding around your shoulders so he can pull you close. “Ok, so this is totally fun. Who knew time travel would ever be a real thing?” You giggle and snuggle closer, “only for Tony and a lucky select few.”

When you pull up in front of FAO Schwarz, Bucky nearly jumps out of the cab, “no way! What a perfect idea! I haven’t been here in forever.” He takes your hand and rushes toward the door, stopping so abruptly you smash into his solid back. “Shit doll. I’m so sorry, I just wanted to ask if you had an extra hair tie?” Forgetting all about your dizziness you give him a mischievous smirk, “do I have a hair tie?” Your eyebrows wiggle so fast he starts to fidget nervously, “oh no. I’m definitely sorry I asked.”

You reach into your backpack and pull out a bright blue velvet scrunchie, “here you go Buck.” He first glares at the scrunchie before gracing you with the same look, “fine. Just. Don’t tell anyone.” He gathers his hair between his long fingers and pulls it to the base of his neck, securing it in messy bun with the bright blue velvet. “You. Look. Amazing.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but starts jogging toward the door, holding it open before dashing in behind you. The moment you enter the store you’re hit with a buzz of electricity from all the energy. It’s mobbed and there’s so much to look at you can barely focus your eyes. You hold tight to Bucky’s hand as you two start to wander around, acting like two kids every time you discover something new.

Bucky spots these giant bouncy Earth balls and grabs one, throwing it straight at your head. “Good catch,” he shouts, laughing when you launch it back at him as hard as you can. “And nice throw.” He picks up a basketball next and throws it at the hoop standing nearby, getting a clean shot in. “Now you’re just showing off.” He slides up next to you and pulls you in for a kiss. “Is it working?” he teases against your lips, deepening the kiss.

You nibble his bottom lip and reluctantly drag yourself away, “definitely.” With a giggle you head off toward the stuffed animal section, nearly screeching when you find the biggest stuffed teddy bear you’ve ever seen. “OH MY GOD BUCKY! I neeeeeed him!” When he doesn’t answer you turn around and can barely see his large frame hidden behind the biggest stuffed dog ever. “EEEEEE nevermind! I want him.”

Bucky somehow manages to get you into his arms while still holding the dog, “I think he needs to come home with us. You can hug him when I’m away on missions and you miss me.” You cuddle them both and nod into his chest, “yes please.” Bucky puts him back on the shelf so you can get him on the way out and heads up the escalator. You both smile big when you pass the iconic clock with the train and Bucky leans in close, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “I love you.”

When you reach the second floor his eyes nearly bug out of his head at the sight of the Lego section. “Holy shit, this is insane!” You watch as he runs from set to set, gawking over how amazing each one is, “doll, you have to see this!” Following him around you can’t help but feel like a giddy kid, helping him pick out some sets to take home, “get whatever you want Buck. It will be fun to do these together.”

By the time you reach the checkout you’ve got the giant dog, several Lego sets and a few other trinkets you couldn’t resist. You stow everything away in the hidden time machine and laugh when your stomach growls, “I need to eat!” Bucky enthusiastically agrees, “let’s bounce!” You laugh while hailing another cab, at this point almost getting used to his usage of the fun 90s phrases, “aiiiiiight, Buck.”

Bucky’s stomach grumbles again and you pat it, dancing your fingers up to his jaw, “we’re almost there.” The food at Nobu does not disappoint and by the time you guys leave you’re full of delicious Japanese inspired cuisine. Bucky rubs his stomach, “I want to eat there every day!” You laugh, “me too! Ok, so let’s head to the hotel and nap and then get changed for our night out.”

You walk along the streets, your pace slow and easy as you enjoy the sights and sounds of everything around you. Once you reach the Plaza hotel you check in and head upstairs to your room, immediately toeing off your shoes and running a bath in the jacuzzi tub. Bucky watches as you remove your clothes and step into the hot water, sighing as it covers your body.

He quickly strips and gets in, situating himself behind you and pulling you between his legs. “If this is what every day in 1995 is like I’m not sure we should go back.” You rest your head back against his chest and moan when he lathers the soap into his hands and starts massaging your head. “I know right. But what about your home skillet, Steve? He’ll miss you so much!”

Bucky quietly repeats the term home skillet, clearly questioning its meaning while you keep going on about the time machine and why you have to go back. It isn’t until Bucky’s metal fingers dip between your legs that you’re ripped from your rambling thoughts.  “Fuck,” you gasp, instantly on fire for him. The next hour goes by in a haze of soft touches, mingled breaths and tangled limbs. By the time you leave the bath your body feels like jelly and you’re more than ready for some rest.

After a nice nap you get up to get ready, changing into a look more suited for the club scene. Bucky eyes you appreciatively when you step out of the bathroom in your crop top and short skirt, “wow you look fly.” You take in his tight jeans and crisp tee shirt, the whole look completed with his leather jacket, “so do you. Ready to party?”

When the cab pulls up to Limelight you can already hear the loud thump of the bass and the line is down the street. “Woah, this place is hoppin’!” You laugh at his choice of words and get on the line, moving your hips and shimming against Bucky while you wait. “If you don’t cut it out I’m gonna have to drag you into a dark corner the second we get in there.” You don’t stop and the closer you get to the door the more you grind yourself over him. “Doll, you’re asking for it.” You turn around and throw him a million-dollar smile, “whatever.”

The instant you step into the club you can feel the air around you shift, the music vibrating through your body as strongly as the energy that radiates off the crowd. Bucky keeps you close as you make your way across the sea of writhing bodies and find yourselves a spot on the dance floor. The dancers on the platforms leave little to the imagination and the rhythm of the music just sets the mood for play. Bucky’s hands roam over every inch of your skin as you lose yourselves in the rowdy debauchery, finding it almost impossible to resist. Bucky’s lips meet your ear in a husky promise, “if you keep moving like this we’re gonna get jiggy with it right here on the dance floor.”

@addikted-2-dopamine​ @bugsbucky​ @buckstaybucky​ @bisousbucky​ @breezy1415​ @buckys-henley​ @book-dragon-13​ @chuuulip​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @hawksmagnolia​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @ikaris-whore​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @loricameback​ @lorilane33​ @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @lookiamtrying​ @littleredstarfish​ @lokilvrr​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @tuiccim​ @the-wayward-robot​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @yansi1923​

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 26: Izumi Todoroki and the Big Friendly Giant

Presenting the next raw and unedited installment of my on-going, next gen, My Hero Academia fic!

As always, the actual semi-edited chapters (and a side series) can be found here

One of the regular chores of Class 1-A was to keep the panty and refrigerator stocked.  Some maintained their own personal supplies, such as Toshi’s protein bars or the teas that Izumi herself preferred, but they also kept a number of communal essentials.  As such, regular trips to the store for groceries was required.   This was nominally a task given to two students, selected from their chore rota.

By happenstance, however, this week it fell on Chihiro Kaminari and Mika Mineta.  Prior to their leaving after spending the afternoon in training, Mister Aizawa had pulled Izumi aside and asked her to accompany them, as he did not, to use his words, “trust them not to trade the grocery money for magic beans.”  Izumi thought this characterization a bit unfair.  Chihiro tried very hard, despite occasionally making rather poor choices. Granted, very often those choices were to listen to whatever scheme Mineta had come up with, but she supposed that Mineta could be quite convincing when she wished to.

The grocery store was… a unique experience.  It was Izumi’s first time in one, as they most often had their food delivered.  Or at least she was reasonably certain it was delivered.  Certainly, more food appeared in the refrigerators, freezers, and pantry at regular intervals, though she had never personally seen it arrive.  She had occasionally accompanied her mother to the Donki-Oote, which apparently had “the best bargains on the planet.”  They would return with dozens of shopping bags and her father would simply regard it all with a small, possibly disappointed sigh. But that was a store where every square inch was filled with merchandise, all of there to temp to you.   The grocery store, at least, seemed somewhat more logical.

Currently, Chihiro was pushing the shopping cart through the frozen foods aisle, as Izumi consulted the shopping list they had been presented with.  Mineta walked behind them, her hooves clicking on the tiles rhythmically.  “Are we done yet?” she asked, whining.  “This place is boring and packed with grannies.  There aren’t even any hot guys or girls!”

“We are about halfway through the list,” Izumi told her, without looking back.

“Relax, Mika,” Chihiro said, looking over her shoulder.  “We’ll stop by the magazine rack on our way out and you can get a copy of Teen Hero Beat.  It’s the issue where they rank the hottest up and coming Heroes.”

“Wait, that’s this week?!”

“How do you not know this?” Chihiro asked.  “Don’t you have, like, charts for everything even remotely sexy?”

“It’s been a busy week!”

The banter between the two easy and light, and Izumi envied it.  So different and less formal than what she had Chihiro had as friends, even though she was certain it was so less a friendship.  But friendships and people did not come easily to Izumi, not with Chihiro, not with Toshi and the others, not even with Katsumi, who she counted as her dearest friend in all the world.  People were strange and complicated and she did not always understand.

The clip-clop of Mineta’s horns suddenly stopped and Izumi and Chihiro to see Mika transfixed by something in one of the freezer cases, which she grabbed and then proceeded to run up to them excitedly.  “We have to get this,” she said, cradling the box to her chest.

“Is it on the list?” Izumi asked.

Mineta looked down and away. “Does it need to be?”

“Yes,” she replied. “We’ve been given limited funds and cannot go over the budget, as well as a very specific list.”

Mineta looked like she was going to cry.  “But I neeeeeed it!”  What on Earth could possibly have been that important?  Especially here in frozen foods?

Chihiro let out an exasperated sigh. She crossed her arms and pointed one of her Cords at her friend. “Mika, what is it?”

Slowly, Mika turned the box around so that they could see it.   It was red and green and decorated with a cartoon apple with arms and a face. The apple appeared to be proudly presenting some kind of green… icicle?

“They’re frozen apple pops!” Mineta said, excitedly.  “I haven’t seen these since the last time I was in America!  I didn’t even know they made these here!  They’re so good!”

Izumi honestly didn’t know how to respond to that, but Chihiro burst out laughing.  “That’s what’s got you so excited, Mika?  Apple-flavored popcicles?”

Mineta pouted. “They’re so much more than that. Granny used to buy them for me when we’d visit.  They taste like… freedom!”

Perhaps these were the “magic beans” Aizawa had been referring to.

“You’re ridiculous, Mika,” Chihiro said, Cords drooping.  “They’d probably melt by the time we got everything back anyway.”

“Hello, we have our own built in ice maker!”  Mineta said, pointing a finger at Izumi.  

“Why do you not just buy them for yourself, Mineta?” Izumi asked.  “I would still be happy to keep them cold if you did.”

Mineta looked down. “I didn’t bring that much money. If I buy these, I can’t buy the magazine I want.”

“Are they expensive?” Izumi asked.  “They couldn’t possibly cost more than ¥1000?”

This time, both other girls laughed.  Why, she did not know.  For a brief moment, she flashed back to her younger days in school and the merciless teasing because she was so sickly and frail. “Did I… say something funny?”

“Sorry,” Chihiro said, hanging on the cart for support.  “I know we’re well off, but I forget that you’re, like, a whole other level of rich.”

“You’ve basically got all the money, Todoroki,” Mineta added.

It was true her family was very rich.  The Yaoyorozu fortune combined with Todoroki money had made her family one of the wealthiest in Japan, if not the world.  She tried not to take it for granted, but admitted there was much she probably did not understand.

“Then perhaps I should purchase this treasure,” Izumi said.  “So long as you plan to share.”  There was little harm in it.  And it seemed to make Mineta happy.  Which also had the long-term benefit of likely keeping her out of trouble.

“Oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!”  Mineta threw her arms around Izumi and hugged her tight. “You’re the best, Torodoki!”

“Mika!” Chihiro said. “Let her go so she can breathe!”

“Eeek!”  Mineta said, as she released her.  “Sorry!”

Izumi sucked in a few breaths.  “It is fine,” she said, then nodded.  “Shall we continue?”

Mineta deposited her treat in the cart with the rest of the food and they continued on.

As she rounded the corner, Izumi impacted with a human shaped wall.

***

“Oh!” Izumu called out, trying to steady herself and regain her balance.  “I am so sorry…”  She looked up at the person she had bumped into.  And up.  And up.

They were tall, easily over two meters, broad-chested, with sandy brown hair, buzzed on one side. “Oh, forgive me, I wasn’t looking…!” he said, and then his eyes fell on Izumi.

Instantly, his face broke into a broad grin.  “Izzy!”   He scooped Izzy up into his arms, holding her close as he spun her around.  In spite of herself, she couldn’t help but let out a rather girlish giggle.

“Shinji,” she said, through her laugher, “Shinji, I am getting dizzy!”

Shinji Yoarashi simply laughed a great booming laugh as he put her down.  “Sorry, I got carried away!” he said, though perhaps bellowed was the better term.  One had to adjust for volume where Shinji was concerned. “Holy hurricanes! I haven’t seen you in forever, Izz!  How have you been?!  And Shota? And Katsumi?”

“I have been well,” Izumi told him.  “U.A. is challenging, but I am confident in my ability to succeed.  Shota and Katsumi are also doing well.  And you?”

“Shiketsu High, of course! Have to stand for Dad’s old school! Rigorous!  Intense!  Challenging!” He struck a dynamic pose as he spoke.

“What are you doing here, then?” she asked.  “That is on the other side of Japan.”

“A few of us from my class are staying in the city,” Shinji explained.  “Our rescue training facility is undergoing repairs, so your school offered us the USJ to train this week.  I came here to pick up a few snacks, but seem to have gotten turned around.”

“This place can be very confusing,” she agreed.  

To the side, she saw Mineta elbow Chihiro.   “…Did you know Todoroki knew somebody that hot?”

Chihiro shrugged.  “I… think I’ve seen some pictures of him and Izumi with Shinso and Kirishima-Bakugo, maybe met him… once, twice? When we were little and Izumi was sick. But not in a long time.  Which I’m now regretting.”

“Okay, in that case, I forgive you for not telling me about him.”

“You can’t forgive me for not telling you something I barely knew!”

“Fine, then I won’t forgive you!”

“Ugh!  Why are you like this?”

“I’m charming and you know it!”

“Yeah, well, I saw him fist!”

“I totally called dibs!”

“You did not!”

Izumi’s eyes felt like ping-pong balls as she followed the argument back and forth.   “Friends of yours, Izzy?” Shinji asked, chuckling.

Where were her manners?   “Yes,” she said.  “These are Chihiro Kaminari and Mika Mineta.   Chihiro, Mineta, this is an old friend of mine, Shinji Yoarashi.”

Shinji was, of course, the son of her father’s friend, Inasa Yorashi, the hero known as Gale Force, and like his father, commanded the winds.  Though she did occasionally wonder if the friendship was a bit one-sided. Certainly, Mister Yorashi seemed happier to see her father than her father was to see him at times, but that may have simply been attributable to their personalities.  Her father was quite reserved and the Yorashis were… not.

Shinji took a deep bow. “A pleasure to meet you, ladies! Any friends of Izzy are friends of mine!”

Mineta gave Chihiro a slight shove back, stepping closer to Shinji.  Even considering her hooved-feet, she was walking somewhat strangely, in a manner that exaggerated the movement of her hips.  She stopped when she got closer to Shinji and thrust her chest out.

“Well, aren’t you a fine hunk of a man,” Mineta said, looking him up and down.  “You see anything you like, Big Boy?”  

Was this… flirting? Mineta did that kind of thing so often, it was difficult to tell.  Izumi didn’t claim to understand her at all, though Chihiro often insisted she wasn’t quite as bad as she acted.  Izumi could admit, however, that Shinji was very aesthetically pleasing.

“Mineta,” she began softly, “I don’t think you…”

And then, to her surprise, Shinji reacted to Mineta in a way she had never seen before.   He smiled, his eyes dancing over her form.  “Suffering Cyclones!” he said.  “You are hot!  I see quite a bit that I like!”

Mineta suddenly frozen where she stood, unmoving.  Shinji waved a hand in front of her face.  “Is she all right?” he asked.

“I think,” Chihiro said, “I think you broke her.  She’s never had to think this far ahead before.”  She prodded Mineta with her left Cord, before giving her a small shock.

Mineta let out a small cry of surprise.  “Sorry,” she said, “went away for a little while there.   Got distracted by the hotness.”   She pulled out her phone.  “I’m gonna need your contact details.  Because I think we’ve got a kindred spirit thing going on here.”

“I would be happy to give you my number!” Shinji said.  “I must say, I am impressed by your forwardness!”

Izumi felt a slight tug on her arm and turned to see that Chihiro had returned to the cart.   “Might as well let finish up,” she said.  “I get the feeling they’re gonna be a while.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I think she’s finally met her match.”

Izumi allowed herself to be tugged along.  It was rude to leave without saying anything, but given how deep in conversation they were, she doubted the two would have noticed their absence.

***

“So, seriously, Izumi,” Chihiro said, as she put a couple of boxes of pasta into the cart, “you and the big guy, you got history?”

Izumi nodded.  “We’re very good friends, Chihiro.  Shinji and I go back quite far.  You and he simply never had the opportunity to meet. Shota and Katsumi know him well though.”

Her friend nodded.  “I can see him and Shinso getting along real well. Kirishima-Bakugo… probably not so much.”

That did get a small chuckle out of her.  “Well…” she admitted.  “Katsumi is who she is and Shinji is who he is.  Though she has threatened to explode him on more than one occasion.  Especially after one of his surprise hugs.”

“This is my completely not surprised face,” Chihiro said.  “You two ever, ah, date?”

She shook her head. “He took me to a middle school dance once, but that is all.”

“Guess that’s all right,” Chihiro said.  “But that is one fantastic looking guy.  And if it doesn’t work out with him and Mika, you’ll give me his number, right?”

“I do not see why not.” Izumi was grateful for the lack of further follow-up questions on the dating issue.  Though she had confessed her lack of sexual or romantic attraction to Katsumi not long ago, it was not a conversation she wished to have again and again with her friends.  She was not ashamed, nor did she feel the need to hide it, but neither did she feel the need to lay herself bare like that in front of everyone at any moment.

Still, Shinji did make her smile.  Where Katsumi was her dearest friend and her protector, Shinji had always been the one to make her laugh, to make her smile.  Whether that was spinning through the air like a tornado, taking her for a flight around the backyard, or telling her of the adventures they’d one day have as Heroes, he always tried to buoy her spirits.  Like Katsumi, he was loud and his own variety of explosive.  But where hers was often born of anger, his was born of amusement and excitement, quick with a laugh and cheer.  

When she was small and did not yet understand the concepts of attraction or infatuation (not that she could truly say she understood them now) but had understood that marriage was something you did when you found someone you always wanted to spent time with, she had thought she might marry him.  That had passed, but he was still a dear, dear friend.

Chihiro added a couple of jars of pasta sauce to the cart, then resumed pushing it.  Izzy checked off the items on the list.  “It looks like we still need coffee and some vegetables,” she said.  “And Katsumi has requested peppers.”

Chihiro went a little pale. “She’s gonna make Inferno Curry again, isn’t she?”

“I’ve never really understood that name,” Izumi said.  “It’s really not that hot.”

Extension Cords pointed sharply at Izumi as Chihiro spoke.  “You self-regulate your own temperature.  You don’t get to decide what is or isn’t hot.  Or cold for that matter.  Learned that one before.  Never challenging you to an ice cream eating contest again.”

At that, Izumi smiled. “The stomach ache was still worth it though.”

“…yeah, it was.”

“Hey!” Mineta’s voice rang out from behind them.  “Look how strong he is!”

Izumi turned and found that Mineta was sitting on Shinji’s shoulder, supported by his bicep as they walked up behind them.  Shinji, for his part, didn’t seem to be showing any strain.  She wasn’t surprised; he’d always been quite strong, one of the few people other than Toshi who could successfully arm-wrestle Katsumi.

He set her down.  “She didn’t think I could do it!” Shinji said, letting out a laugh.  “But I proved her wrong!”

“You sure did, Big Boy,” Mineta said, patting a hand against his broad chest.  Izumi noticed her hand stayed there for several long seconds.

“Your friend is delightful, Izzy!” Shinji added.  Chihiro started to laugh, but stopped herself, ending up coughing instead.  “Are you all right?”

“Fine, fine,” Chihiro insisted.  “I’m fine.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of groceries,” Mineta said.  “Think a big, strong guy like you could help us carry them back to the dorm, Yoarashi?”

“I would be delighted to lend my muscles to your cause!”

***

As they returned to the dorm (securing a pass for Shinji had been easy enough, after the security system had scanned his Shiketsu ID), Izumi reflected that today had been a good day. Spending time in the company of friends, getting out of the school for a little while… she had even shopped at a grocery store!  It also meant that had had time not to dwell on the upcoming Sports Festival.

Even two weeks into school, even with having sat out several days for Quirk exhaustion, her stamina had improved by leaps and bounds.  She would need to file the proper paperwork for the regulator equipment from her costume, but if she could use that during the Sports Festival, then she believed she would do well enough.   Her actions would have to be careful and measured, but that was how she preferred to act anyway.  She knew that her parents believed in her, wanted the best for her.  But she felt that if she could make a good showing there… maybe they would be a little less worried about her pursuing the path of a Hero.

Maybe she’d worry a little less about it too.

The Common Room was sparsely occupied by the time they entered it.  Asuka sat at one of the tables, with Shota, going over some kind of their homework, while Katsumi sat on one of the couches, feet on the coffee table in front of it, one of their literature books in her hands.  Everyone else was presumably in their rooms or otherwise occupied.

“We’re back!” Mineta called out, as they set their groceries down on the kitchen counters.  “And we brought a friend!  But don’t try hitting on him, because I already called dibs!”

“You hit on everyone, Horse-Girl,” Katsumi said, without looking up.  “Leave me out of it.”

“Katsumi!” Shinji called out.

“Shinji!” Shota piped up, recognizing his friend’s voice.

“Shota!” Shinji returned, laughing again.

“Oh, hell, no,” Katsumi said.  With incredible speed, she launched herself up off the couch and towards the stairs.   She was not quick enough, however, to avoid Shinji, who scooped her up in a bear hug.  

Shota left Asuka behind to join them.  “Me next, do me next!”

“Oh, it is good to see you two!” Shinji boomed.  “I have missed you!”

“Me too!” Shota said.

“Put me down, you overgrown whirlwind!” Katsumi said, struggling to break free.  “I’ll blow you damn head off!”

Shinji put her down, still laughing.  “Still as funny as ever, Katsumi!”

“I’ll show you funny…”

Izumi quickly decided to intervene.  “I think Katsumi has homework to be doing,” she said.  “Perhaps we should not keep her?”

Katsumi shot her a grateful look.  “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Izz.  …I’m watching you, Windy.”   She quickly returned to the table to grab her book and this time successfully made it to the stairs.

“C’mon,” Chihiro said. “We need to get these groceries put away.  And then we need you to tell us alllll about how you know Kirishima-Bakugo, Yorashi.”

“Oh, yeah,this I gotta hear,” Mineta added.

All the better Katsumi had beat a rather hasty retreat… if she had stayed, violence would have likely followed.  As it was, a little trip down memory lane with a good friend would do no harm. Time to look back, even as they began to look forward.

[bluescarfvivi]

She can’t hold it in any longer!!

The sounds of the season....

The jolly and happy cheer...

The arrival of a certain large man in red giving gifts to the children of the world...

IT’S TIME!!!

IT’S THAT TIME!!!!

“IIIIIII.....don’t want a lot for Christmas... Theeeeere’s just one thing I neeeeeed.... I don’t care about the presents UNDERNEATH the Christmas treee... IIIIII just want you for my oooown... MOOOOORE than you could ever knooooow.... Make my wish COME TRUUUUUUUUUUU-HUUUHUUUU-OOOOOO... AAAAALL I want....for Christmaaaaaaaas.....”

......

“IIIIIIIIIIIIII-IIIIIIIIISSSSS”

“YOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!”

AND THE PIANO KICKS IN!!!!!!!

“I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need And I don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree

I don't need to hang my stocking There upon the fireplace

Santa Claus won't make me happy With a toy on Christmas Day I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas Is you You, baby Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas I won't even wish for snow And I'm just gonna keep on waiting Underneath the mistletoe I won't make a list and send it To the North Pole for Saint Nick I won't even stay awake to Hear those magic reindeer click' Cause I just want you here tonight Holding on to me so tight What more can I do? Cause baby all I want for Christmas is you You Oh-ho, all the lights are shining So brightly everywhere And the sound of children Laughter fills the air And everyone is singing I hear those sleigh bells ringing Santa won't you bring me the one I really need? Won't you please bring my baby to me? Yeah Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas This is all I'm asking for I just wanna see my baby (Yeahhh) Standing right outside my door Oh I just want you for my own For my own Baby More than you could ever know Make my wish come true Baby all I want for Christmas is You baby All I want for Christmas is you baby All I want for Christmas is you baby All I want for Christmas is you baby”

[jenbrookmodel]

Matchmaker XII: Lost in New York

It’s been several years since I sat here with my laptop; earphones turned to max, music pouring its way through my emotive veins at an undetermined time of the darkened morning. Curtains closed, alarm set for shortly. Here I am. 

Oh, jetlag, you. 

When was your year? My sister and I spent last weekend reminiscing our short lives and the possibility of a self defining year, ‘the year of you’...so far. She said mine was 2013 and I agreed. I sharply exited an 8 year relationship that was never destined to survive the adult world and as I left it behind, I grew as a model and a person in every way. 

I discovered a new world beyond my own doorstep; venturing to the big smoke alone, touring for the first time and stretching tiny wings that soon saw flights to Montreal and L.A. solo - I barely recognised the brave adventurer I’d become. I made three of the greatest creative friends I’ll ever have - Brooke, Ben and Devin. I started urban exploring with a friend from my past who allowed me to talk uninterrupted and bleed my sadness out into abandoned uncharted buildings, that echoed my feelings back. I approached brands to seek out successful work and I networked day and night using a project I later called Dreamcatcher, to grow. I got angry at badger cullers and dolphin trainers, and I made sure everybody knew. Yes, 2013 was my year; the year I became more than the silent clotheshorse. 

Reviewing my blog archive, it seems that by February 2014, I was ready...and I found my Matchmaker man. For those who followed the 10.5 episode series, you’ll know that the story concluded (in blog form) with our first night spent together. Fourteen months later (and three years to this very day), we had our own home - two deckchairs, two mugs, a lamp, a plant and a mattress on the floor to our name. And now four years on...we’re here again, with another chapter to my unwritten autobiography. 

*******************************************************************************************

October 2017 - my heroine, P!nk, announced her Beautiful Trauma Tour - the 14th time I would see her. With European dates still dwindling in the distance, he said “let’s do NYC”...and I didn’t wait to be asked twice. So, we saved and saved and treated ourselves to five nights in an art deco themed tower on Park Avenue, with a rooftop that overlooks the Empire State. 

Straight through to April...it was time. 

We arrived late, Saturday 31st March. Having barely slept for a full day, we crashed hard and awoke the next morning to patchy skies, overlooking the city like no other’ the city that never sleeps. Three wonderful days soon flew by, visiting the usual tourist hotspots and cooking up a storm of steps around the concrete jungle of 60 miles on foot. 

Wednesday, 11pm and we were walking home from Madison Square Garden - with me still singing ‘So What’ as he clutched the Starbucks crushed cake we’d forgotten from his pocket. 

“So, so what?! I’m still a rockstar! I got my rock moooooooves and I don’t neeeeeed you! And guess what? I’m having more fun, now that we’re done. I’m gonna show you, tonight...” my voice echoed quietly into the Subways that filled the ground. 

We were only six blocks away as we marched the path back to our hotel upon newly dried pavement, after a few days of undecided showers and a flurry of deep overnight snow. Blinded by the glare of Times Square and the flashing lights of the Big Apple cabs, stars above were completely invisible, but on such a perfectly clear night of perfectly wonderful happiness, I knew they were up there somewhere, looking down. 

Drunk on Pink, high on life, I was skipping all the way home. All of my favourite things in one place together - NYC, Matchmaker and a 5ft 4 superstar, who’s unknowingly been there, in my life, all along. 

We hurried through the glassed porch entrance of the hotel, greeted by the perfume of elegance that they pump into the lobby - something I’ll always remember; an essence that screams ‘we go the extra mile, don’t forget us’. 

Ten floors up, we were ‘home’. 

“Turn around, I’ve got a present for you” he said, as I ventured my way into the bathroom. “Hurry up then” I badgered, “I need a wee”. Knowing it would be the lemon drizzle he was speaking about less than a split second before, I span around and.....whaaaaaaat?! There he was, down on one knee, a sparkling diamond glistened in the tungsten light above the bed.

“Will you marry me?”

....”Are you serious?? Oh my god, I don’t understand! Do you mean it??”

I battled through the salty water that appeared in a single blink, blurring my vision. I stumbled to greet him on the carpeted cream coloured floor. Still spilling sweet nothings into the sweet smelling air, we landed in a soggy heap, me holding his crumpled shirt tightly, pulling back only to stare at him and cry more. 

“I wanted to do this last year. I knew when we walked onto Main St at Disney and you burst into tears, that ‘this’ was the moment I was meant to do it...but I didn’t know it ‘til then and I didn’t have a ring! I started searching for places in Florida and thinking of how to get you one. I panicked! I’m sorry it’s not as perfect as last summer, but I know how much you love Pink and this seemed like a good second. You’re my world, my best friend and I don’t ever want to be without you. I want to marry you...I’m presuming this is a yes, right...right?”

I was frantically nodding, still sobbing, still listening, still staring into those emerald eyes I’d fallen for four years ago, gleaming rocks in a box still clutched between my sweaty palms. 

“So when Pink announced this tour, I knew I’d do it in New York. But our first day here was April Fools Day...and you were complaining that your bum was hurting on the bike ride...and you were a total zombie with no sleep - so it couldn’t have been there. Then it snowed...and then it rained...and we fell out because you had wet feet! We’ve had such a good holiday, haven’t we? But there wasn’t a moment that stood out. I’m sorry it’s happened in a hotel room, I wanted to do it in Central Park, but it wasn’t right...” he waffled on. 

“Shut up you idiot! This is the most perfect day ever!” I screamed in his face, sliding the shimmering sparkles onto my left hand. My ears were still ringing with the sounds of Madison Square Garden and nobody was looking at me, but him. It was everything I’ve ever wanted. 

We were still intertwined on the floor, holding each other tightly, laughing through choked up tears about the fact he had been carrying the ring around for five whole days, waiting impatiently - narrowly avoiding the most inappropriate proposal ever, when security at the 9/11 memorial museum asked him to turn out his pockets on arrival. 

So, here you go. Here I am. Here ‘we’ are. 

Four years on and you were there from the start...that first blog about our first date and our more than coincidental meeting; all those moments of serendipity that brought us together. I’ve come home from America in the best kind of daze and can’t stop looking at it...at him, and squeezing my eyes so tightly shut with gratitude that I finally got it - someone who shares my happiness, who loves me through my faults and who supports me in everything that I do. I love him so very much. 

I love him and now, I’ll be his wife...Mrs Matchmaker. 

“Have you ever wished for an endless night? Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself Will it ever get better than tonight? Tonight”

[deadredhead-blog-blog]