#THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR A WHILE AND I TOTALLY FORGOT TO REPLY

[kirimoochi]

AAAAA I’M LATE ON THIS!! MB!! :(

what colour is your water bottle?

have you ever dyed your hair/would you ever want to?

what do you do in your free time?

what are you wearing right now?

what’s your favourite time of day?

what colour is your water bottle?

i actually just reuse the same plastic water bottle that i keep in the fridge or next to my bed. i lost my white hydroflask and my other cup made my school bag a little too moist and at one point it leaked onto the floor.

have you ever dyed your hair/would you ever want to?

i haven't dyed my hair before but i have thought about it on many occasions. i wanted to dye the underside of it red, however i live in a dorm so i think it might be a little too stressful so maybe i'll dye it when i get an apartment :(

what do you do in your free time?

i like to do a lot of things. in college, whenever i'm feeling a little stressed or bored i take myself on a self-date and just go shopping by myself. ITS REALLY DANGEROUS I DONT ADVISE PEOPLE TO STAY LATE I ALWAYS GO HOME AROUND 3PM.

i like to sing, i like to build gundams, i like to watch movies. i do a lot of stuff but what i've settled with at the moment has been playing video games with my friends before i can't (going back to college n all makes playing games a lil hard since i dont have that much time to be at home).

what are you wearing right now?

a pair of shorts and my college t shirt.

what's your favourite time of the day?

sunset. i adore the night but i can't deny that my heart is actually with the sun, and i like to watch it with my friends on the beach. it has the most beautiful shades of pink orange red and blues.

[cat3ch1sm]

Idea:

Tamaki (Ohshc) with Fem!reader who dislikes him and finds him annoying. Reader always wears kimono dresses and has a little knife up her sleeve (FOR SELF DEFENSE PURPOSES ONLY). So sometime she hangs around with Haruki and the rest of the club come (she only tolerates Honey cause he looks a kid) and Tamaki starts his romantic antics and she gets pissed so she just swiftly throws the knife very close to his face saying "The next time I won't miss."

She goes to unplug the knife from the wall, accidentally caging Tamaki between her and the wall.

Honestly I have no more ideas,so just go ahead and finish it as you like.

🐸~ hi!! missed you in my inbox <33 thanks for your request! i hardly ever write for ohshc😭 hope u enjoy, ily

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ fem!reader, knives

“It’s nice to spend some time alone with you,” Haruhi confessed, smiling a little awkwardly with a small laugh. “The host club has been all over me lately. I can hardly go to the bathroom without one of them on my tail.”

You and your friend, Haruhi Fujioka, were sitting outside in the courtyard of Ouran High School. Cherry blossom trees surrounding you and the occasional petal or two fluttered down into either of your hair, a gentle breeze blowing on your long dress. It was a free period, meaning students could simply do as they pleased for forty-five minutes. You hadn’t gotten to see Haruhi as often as you used to, so you were glad to steal your friend away for at least a little while.

“I agree.” You nodded, smiling as well. “Only time I’ve gotten to see you lately is when you’re with that infernal host club- and you know I can’t stand them.” Your smile faltered a little, and you folded your arms across your chest, the sleeves of your kimono rustling. “And I only tolerate Honey because he literally looks like a little kid. It feels morally wrong to hate him.”

Haruhi laughed out loud. “Senpai- sorry, Tamaki still bothering you?”

“To no end,” you replied bitterly, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, he can be pretty persistent. There was a phase for a minute when he was absolutely obsessed with me.” Haruhi cringed as she recalled it. Then she smiled again. “Luckily, when you came into the picture Tamaki totally forgot about me.”

You pursed your lips in a sour manner. “Yeah, you owe me for the rest of your life.”

“I know, I know!”

Haruhi’s amusement was contagious, and the two of you just sat there giggling for a minute before your laughter was cut through with a shrill scream of “Haruhiiiiiiiiiii!”

Haruhi immediately stopped laughing, her expression dropping as her eyes widened. You made a face, recognizing the yell instantly.

Tamaki came barreling towards the two of you, followed from a distance by the rest of the Host Club, tearing through the throngs of students until he finally reached you both.

“Haruhi! I’ve been looking for you all over!” Tamaki cried dramatically, throwing his arms around Haruhi in an exaggerated embrace. Haruhi let out a groan and thrashed around in his grip, snapping at him to get off, but he wasn’t listening. “Daddy was so worried when you weren’t in the music room! Free periods are our busiest time, and we can’t operate without our star host- well, second star host,” Tamaki whined.

“Senpai, I’m with a friend right now,” Haruhi grunted in annoyance, trying to pry his arms off of her. “Do you mind?”

“What friend could possibly be more important than being with us at the host club?” Tamaki demanded, turning vehemently- and that’s when he caught sight of you. You let out a weary sigh, already knowing what was coming next as the blonde’s eyes widened and that irritating lovesick expression softened his face. “Oh- it’s you, Y/N!” Tamaki exclaimed joyfully, abruptly releasing Haruhi and coming to stand in front of you. Haruhi dropped to the ground with a yelp, but when you moved to help her up, Tamaki blocked your way.

“You cannot be serious,” you muttered, dropping your head in exasperation. So much for a quiet period with Haruhi.

Tamaki, as usual, was oblivious to your obvious disinterest. “Why, Y/N- you’re looking even more radiant than usual today! Your skin is absolutely radiant in the sun.” He had that familiar gleam in his eye, the one that usually made girls’ knees buckle and cheeks flush, but all it did was piss you off. “May I humbly ask you to accompany the Host Club and I back to the music room? Such a dull place it is without your lovely presence…” Tamaki sighed as if in distress and placed the back of his hand on his forehead like a swooning maiden. You could practically see the sparkles gleaming off of him, and to be honest, it made you nauseous.

“Mhm,” you answered flatly. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

The rest of the host club had caught up with Tamaki by now, Kyoya and Mori helping a disgruntled Haruhi off the ground where Tamaki had dropped her. One of the girl’s arms in his grip, Kyoya glanced up from behind his glasses, watching the scene between you and Tamaki. “Clearly, Tamaki, she’s very interested in joining you,” he remarked sarcastically. “What a ray of sunshine, hm?”

“Like you’re much better,” you muttered in response. Tamaki hardly noticed Kyoya’s disdain, though.

“You’re interested?” he exclaimed, and before you could react he took your hands in his, twirling you around in a very theatric fashion that, much to your dismay, drew the attention of passersby. “Wonderful! To have someone like you join me at the Host Club… truly you are the most beautiful of them all.”

Your expression remained stony as you broke away from Tamaki’s grasp, smoothing down your kimono and blowing stray strands of hair out of your face. “You say that to every girl you meet,” you answered sourly.

Tamaki paused for a second in surprise, a slightly guilty expression appearing on his face. “Well, yes, but I only really mean it when I say it to you,” he offered sheepishly, hitting you with another one of those disgustingly blinding bright smiles. You let out a heavy sigh in response, and with your patience thinning you thought it best to not say anything.

“Wow, is free period almost over?” you asked offhandedly, checking an imaginary watch on your wrist. “Maybe I should be going-“

“Nonsense!” Tamaki exclaimed. “We still have twenty-five minutes left.” He suddenly reached for your hair, and before you could duck he plucked a pink petal from your head. Grimacing, you watched as he gazed at the petal with a downright corny amount of fondness as he brought it to his face.

“This flower was caught in your hair,” Tamaki explained, his voice sickeningly sweet, and you fought the urge to hit yourself in the head. “You are such a radiant creature that even the flowers wish to remain by your side. I will cherish it forever- as a token of your beauty.”

Tamaki’s dramatic antics had drawn something of a crowd by now- really just a handful of fawning girls who clung to every word he was saying to you. At this last remark they let out a collective squeal that made you wince. Behind Tamaki, Haruhi sent you an apologetic look.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, thoroughly exasperated. “Well, that’s definitely unnecessary. I’ll be going now-“

“But, my love, wait-“ Tamaki started, grabbing your hands again- but by now you’d had more than enough. All in one move, you tore your hands out of his, reached into the large sleeve of your kimono, pulled out a throwing knife, and hurled it at Tamaki with alarming accuracy. It was sheer luck that Tamaki wasn’t impaled through the face, dodging at the last minute, and the knife instead buried itself into a tree directly behind him.

The people around you went dead silent. Haruhi’s eyes were wide as frying pans and the host club members besides Mori and Kyoya wore equally disquieted expressions on their faces. Honey rushed to cower behind Mori’s long legs. Tamaki, eyes wide as well, was frozen against the tree, the knife barely an inch from his temple.

Not even noticing the looks of alarm directed at you, you tsked in slight frustration with yourself for missing. Keeping your gaze straight ahead, you walked straight up to Tamaki, who didn’t move an inch but whose eyes followed you like lasers, and pinning him just beneath you you roughly yanked the knife from the bark of the tree. But before pulling away with your knife in hand, you placed your lips at Tamaki’s ear, making sure only he could hear what you were going to say next.

“Next time I won’t miss.”

[apprenticestanheight]

hi!! i have a request :) would it be okay if you wrote a specs x transmasc reader where the reader gets specs to help him with a testosterone shot?? its totally okay if no tho!! have a good day :)

T - specs x transmasc! reader

hi nonnie!! I'm sorry this took a while--this one has been sitting in my drafts for a good few weeks now and I've had it written for just as long. My object permanence is the absolute fuckin' worst, however, and I, admittedly, forgot to edit this before today because of getting distracted by other projects and also getting so anxious I physically could not will myself to get out of bed multiple days in a row since you sent this one into my inbox.

HOWEVER, I did get my shit together today (started on medication for adhd because I told my dr I thought I had it and we're testing it out to see if it works for me to help with those symptoms + anxiety management wot wot) and so, here this is!! I am, once again, sorry for the delay, and I promise if you send another request in I will do my best to do it that week.

fic type - this is fluffy!!

warnings - there are mentions of needles in this

In the five years since you'd come out and the five and a half since you and Specs had started dating, you'd only asked him to help you with your weekly testosterone shot maybe twice in the three and a half years since you'd finally gotten through all of the necessary hoops and had been able to start taking it.

Normally, you could do it yourself without a hitch, sometimes a little squeamish at the sight of the needle, but that Friday you'd asked him to help because he did it a bit quicker than you did--even if by just a solid second or two--while the two of you were on a time crunch in a rush to meet Elise and Tucker. Also, somewhat, as a way to squeeze a bit more time with him out of your day because you had to work an eight hour shift from 3-11, and when you got home he'd either be reading a comic while half asleep or asleep on your side of the bed in your absence.

He agrees to your ask without questioning it, getting the shot ready while you talk to him about how work has been because you've worked a string of evening shifts for the past three weeks and have been too drained to talk about it the next day. He happily listens, occasionally commenting where it's appropriate to make a remark or agree with an opinion you hold about a coworker, though he also acknowledges that he only has your bias to base an opinion on and not his own.

"Thank you for this, by the way," you murmur as you're standing up to pull your pants down to your thighs. "I know I could've done it myself, but I've missed you a lot lately and wanted to squeeze in an extra few minutes."

That remark brings out a soft smile from Specs, given to you as you're sitting back down. A second later, you can see the debate as to whether or not he wants to give you a forehead kiss occur in his expressions before he pauses, presses a quick but somewhat lingering kiss to your forehead, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek.

"I've missed you too, for what it's worth," Specs says. "Elise has kept us busy with her clients and Tucker and I have kept ourselves busy with Spectral Sightings stuff, but we've not seen much of each other lately and it's been hard."

You've missed him so terribly that it hurts, and there have been multiple points in the lulls of your evening shifts wherein you've been tempted to just pick up the phone and call him. You haven't for fear of being judged and seeming co-dependent, but you're at a point where you don't care how co-dependent it makes you seem. You're allowed to miss him when you're working evenings and don't get much of a chance to see him except for in your easier mornings.

You're nodding your agreement with his sentiments as he finishes getting your shot ready. You watch the needle go in, unblinking and relatively unphased, grabbing a "fun" Band-Aid--one shaped like a ghost, one of many from a Band-Aid kit gifted to you by Tucker for your birthday that year--to place over it as the slight pain from the injection settles and the needle is removed.

You pull your pants back up and rake your hands through your hair as Specs discards the needle properly, ever the one to be cautious about how your injection needles are handled, and you're thanking him as you put your testosterone away as it's meant to be stored.

He does a bit of idle cleaning while you finish getting ready, and you wind up stealing one of his button downs to wear over a black shirt. You kiss his cheekbone as he tosses you your keys, and the two of you leave your shared house hand in hand, so full of contentment that you already know how happy you seem is bound to make Tucker fake a gag while he smiles.

[kirchefuchs]

yoooo hello, 🅰️'s buddy here, just wanted to tell u smthn cuz he couldn't find the time to do it (also you don't have to directly answer this, you can also come to dms, but if you're wondering why I didn't just come into your dms myself then uhhhhh stop wondering /silly)

I was borrowing his acc (the reblogs were from me and I decided to use his personal tags to let him know what I reblog, occasionally he comes by to post smthn but that's only ever when he has the time) for a while cuz I forgot the password to mine (I remember it now), and just wanted to let you know that our free trial of freedom has expired and we now have to suffer several months assignments ✊😞

🅰️ doesn't have a lot of time when it comes to actually coming up with smthn to throw into your inbox like a bomb (his words not mine) but he recalls already sending one a few weeks ago aaaaaaand he was wondering if tumblr ate his ask so I decided to come here and ask for him

(ignore the fact that I took quite a while to get to the point of why I came to raid your inbox)

he always has his asks saved in his notes from now on so you can tell me if the ask has been rip'd from tumblr yuh anyway that's all from me bye

No yeah, I have two asks from him in my inbox that I just completely forgot to answer..... sorry 😔

My brain has just been all over the place with me getting into 3 fandoms (ie. Trigun, Ace Attorney, and Disco Elysium) in just a few months, so I haven't put much thought into posting much recently and I feel a bit bad about it, I have quite a few unanswered asks just sitting in my I box rn 👉👈

And as for you guys losing free time to assignments, I completely understand. If you two ever find time to say even just small things, feel free, but I totally understand if you guys are swamped by assignments and I wish you the best of luck with those ♡

[plural-affirmations]

Hi again,

I'm actually very much able to converse with my headmates, just meant that it'd be nice to be able to talk to people other than my headmates about all of this. Also just haven't figured out what the right words to describe us are, and certainly haven't become comfortable using them lol.

Either way, might be good to introduce who we have here? If it's not yet obvious, I don't entirely know what I'm doing. Going to avoid names for the sake of anonymity, which admittedly is going to make this annoying.

First of all, there's me. I'm pretty sure it's correct to refer to me as the host and core? I'm the only one who's controlled the body (so far). Then there's my headmates - there's currently three of them, all of them dragons.

The eldest I'm pretty sure is willogenic? I was bored while shopping and decided to imagine a little dragon following me, and then she was there. Comforted me when I got stressed later that day, and basically has been doing that since (minus two separate occasions where I forgot about her for a bit). If I remember correctly, the His Dark Materials series influenced me to even try that, and also shaped how I thought about her in the beginning. She's been the most active one generally (which I do feel a bit bad for, like I'm playing favourites?).

The other two I am significantly less able to classify in any way. For both of them, there was some sort of… presence? It's realy hard to describe, but there was some feeling for a few days before they arrived, which they did suddenly? It's really hard to describe, especially working only from memory.

Happened two separate times obviously, both times in periods where I was stressing about upcoming events, the more recent actually being in the process of composing the original ask I wrote lol.

Either way, desperately hoping I'm not oversharing lol. If I used any words wrong or there any others that you think might be useful please do tell me. Hope you're having a good day either way, thanks for reading my ramblings.

-⚪🐉

Ah, my apologies for misunderstanding! I've kind of been doing that a lot lately >_<"

Also, the terminology varies quite a lot! For example, "core" has quite a loaded meaning in my opinion. The concept of an "original" alter doesn't really exist in DID/OSDD-1 due to the way alters initially form (if you put any stock into the Theory of Structural Dissociation, anyways. That's a whole other can of worms I won't get into unless someone asks though 💀).

However! DID/OSDD-1 certainly aren't the only plural experience, and I think in your case with most likely being willogenic, it's totally ok to call yourself that. I mean, it'd be fine to call yourself that regardless, but you hopefully know what I mean.

Agh, sorry for rambling! Back to the first topic:

Thank you for sharing your experiences with us!! We think it's super cool to see how other multiples perceive the world, and what they think about their life/lives.

I see you mentioned stress being a contributing factor though... have you considered traumagenic or stressgenic? Both are worth looking into if you haven't considered it. Even if you come out on the other end deciding you aren't either of those, I think experimenting with labels is healthy and facilitates self exploration. There's also mixed origins, which is what we are! You're not limited to just one option!

But, again, this is just my dumbass opinion, and all I am is about 100 dudes in a trenchcoat. (/lh)

Sorry this was all over the place, it's 2:00 in the morning here, but this is the first chance I've had to sit down and sift through my inbox without interruption.

Thanks for understanding! I wish you luck!

🖤💜💙💚💛

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Ok I’m just gonna merge and put my response to both responses here so I don’t keep double sending stuff into your inbox LMAO

Tbh from what I’ve seen he’s still a pretty volatile player (maybe he’s got brother trauma too) so your kiyora probably cooks LOL

TRUE I do enjoy the Prince yuki duo…imagine Chris giving him tips on training to help him build up stamina so he doesn’t get as tired and strain his eyes as much I’m crying….pause Chris cameo in yuki oaeu….youre onto something

FS I lowk forgot about kurona for a min (sorry bro) but Reo’s physicality esp after the training with Chris would seriously up the plays that Isagi could make too omg I have to admit I’m mainly in it for the character development though LMAOO like Reo and Isagi becoming besties /hj Id honestly love to see them interact more on good terms because a good chunk of what we’ve seen now is Reo being like “Isagi give me back my loser” I dying with the nagi slander hiori would totally be like “if he can haul his ass out of bed to kick a ball maybe I should start moving too” but LMAOOOO I actually laughed out loud the “your mom” comment is BRUTAL I can totally see it happening like Kaiser crumples on spot gripping his next and Nagi’s just standing like wtf is “your mom” that powerful maybe I should try “deez nuts” next time (imagine he does and Kaiser just stares at him like wtf are you 12) Noel noa and Nagi being the ceos of no thoughts brain empty to the point that they have no other option and it forces a Nagi awakening…

I’m just imagining a mean girl powerpuff trio….i guess by color default Rins buttercup and hiori is bubbles so Nagi’s gotta be blossom LMAO I see the vision though

I can imagine asks being distracting especially since our convo is always so long LMAOO (I live for it though) Mira on that grind…flashbacks to your mention of that one baby Justin Bieber audio (I love how I can remember this but not whether or not I’ve sent in an ask)

OH IM WALKING ALRIGHT let’s go grab coffee while we’re at it I think you’re gonna wanna sit down for this convo…ok but wait this is actually dangerous you can’t just drop this thought into my mind and dip!! Yotd x bllk crossover…hold on….im ngl it has been a bit since I’ve watched but imagine aiku or Otoya as jaeha too…both personality wise and color…

Ok now kiyora notes response response LOL

OFCCC and tbh I figured you’d be on the mark with his character (as usual) LMAOO miraverse just too powerful…

Ok wait I think the street fighter thing fits with him perfectly…like he’s always raring to go with breakdance battles and whatnot so I can lowk see it? He lowk would be a street dancer I feel in bllkverse so not that far off in terms of vibes I feel…we also saw him straight up squaring up with Nagi (soccer wise though) in epinagi LMAO so definitely a relatively combative character

LMFAOOOO that panel is so funny but FR thinking back on epinagi where Karasu insinuates that Kiyoras the weak link of the team and kiyoras like “you wanna go bro??” it all makes sense…makes me more excited for epinagi though I wanna see how they interact mid match!! Maybe Karasu and Otoya really were carrying their team (as expected) I’m also crying because from the clip I saw the HEIGHT DIFFERENCE the top of kiyora head reaches like the middle of Karasu ear they really said “ok time to really show how small he is”

- Karasu anon

HAHA i’m abt to post in the next hour or so i hope so you can see for yourself 🙂‍↕️ also side note i can’t stop using the head nod emoji JFNSKKS

AWW no because chris somehow getting involved and teaming up w aiku too?? he gives very blustery sweet but embarrassing uncle vibes where he def has no clue what’s going on but he’s doing his best…gasses up yuki whenever he sees reader meanwhile aiku is giving yuki tips to pull…absolutely insane combo LMAOAO honestly the best part of the oaeu is how many random combos that i can write about (for example i think the premise of the nagi one is going to be that aiku’s going on a double date and he needs another guy who’s going to make him look good in comparison so he picks nagi who’s like tall/cute/athletic enough to not embarrass aiku but uninterested and weird enough to not steal aiku’s thunder but then he accidentally DOES steal aiku’s thunder so he becomes aiku’s opp 😭 aiku turns into the anti wingman fr meanwhile reo and chigiri are like “nagi likes a woman???” so they’re beefing w aiku as well because they need nagi to touch grass FJDJSJSJ)

EXACTLYYY it would help isagi develop as a player and reo develop as a person >>>> no because hiori is def like hold on if THIS idiot can enjoy himself playing maybeeee it’s not thatttt bad 😩 PLS nagi thinks kaiser is just weak to fortnite insults so he’s like “kaiser do you know what happened to candice” and kaiser is like ? who IS candice ? and nagi’s like “candice nuts fit in your mouth 🤣” kaiser considers ending it because wdym he has the most fuck ass immature teammate ever 😰 also wait imagine wildcard kunigami but with nagi instead of isagi 😭 he’s all emo and traumatized and nagi is just like wow you have big muscles it reminds me of barou 👍 or he’d accidentally bring up how he beat him in the 3v3 and it would make poor kuni spiral 😓 also a nagi + kunigami bm vs rin + shidou pxg feels like such an ultimate second selection get back like they def wouldn’t win because plot but it would be insane!! LMAOOO forget nagi developing a new ego because he’s creative or curious he’s forced to because noel noa is NOT abt to help him in any way shape or form 😟

LMAOOO no i love our convos but sometimes i have to just lock in 😩 HAHA the justin bieber audio is a miraverse staple like that’s literally me writing about sooo many random characters it’s unreal (but very enjoyable!!)

i thought abt otoya for jaeha but i feel like jaeha is more extroverted than otoya (plus ponytail) so i thought reo fit better!! although i can def see the aiku vision especially because jaeha is much older than all of the other dragons…also lowkey kaiser kinda serves soowon (cunty blond) it’s too perfect HAHA i’m just thinking yk 🤭

miraverse always ends up connected to canon even unintentionally 🤫 i do agree considering he likes when people provoke him it just made sense to me to put him in that au!! and yeahhh bro karasu is actually kinda mean to kiyora but honestly that’s just the tabito signature like love him but he is top ten assholes in bllk (he’s just joking around though so it’s okay) HAHA okay wait kiyora and i are almost the same height (he’s 165 cm and i’m 163 cm) so that’s good to know for ah…research purposes…hehe so basically i’d barely even come up to the middle of karasu’s ear 🤗 that checks out though because i knew a guy who was 6’3 (nagi’s height) and i deadass had to actively look up to talk to him it kinda made things awkward though because even hugging was lowkey a gymnastic endeavor 😭 i’m perfectly alright w lime 5’9 that’s still tall to me (also that’s otoya’s height i believe…so basically more proof that miraeita 🔛🔝‼️)

[sitpwgs]

I totally agree with everything you said about rerecordings. I honestly forgot about Sweeter Than Fiction but I like your idea too. It makes sense..and ya it was probably cuz they had cowriters or how she maybe she doesn't agree with the message of Drama Queen anymore. For a while, Ive been thinking about how it would be fun to listen to each rerecording differently the first time. For the first two, I listened in order but then for Speak Now, we went with vault songs first..and now for 1989 I was thinking I will listen on shuffle for the first time..and see how the vault songs mix in with the original songs. I've never done that but think it might be cool to experience since I've heard these songs a lot..and 1989 especially has her most popular songs. Idk though..cuz I know Rep seems like it must be listened in order..then for debut I don't hear the full album all the time so I might just play that in order too. So this is my last chance..and I wonder if it will make me feel differently about the songs haha. That didn't really happen with the Speak Now vault songs though..they just felt pretty separate or like just added to the album. What do you think? How do you usually listen to them? I know sometimes people choose favorites first.

Oh that makes sense about the Roman Holiday musical..and maybe it was hard to translate to stage too. Since it's an old movie, I guess it kinda makes sense to use Cole Porter songs but I can see how that didn't really add anything.

For Paradise Square, i did not know much about it either. I guess there has been an issue of being unable to release their cast album. So the composer has posted a few clips of the musical and songs on his Instagram to appreciate the show and I was watching them yesterday. It seemed pretty good and had a lot of dancing. Haha that Smash comment! Ya it seems pretty in demand..which makes sense. Also your comment about the green light with staging would be totally cool.

Oh ya..maybe that's why they were kinda similar and because they were both based on books. But ya..I still love Love Simon and it's soundtrack but I never read that book either. I really think this one could have had more potential..the movie was fine to me but it just didn't make me feel anything. It could've been more maybe but I also see a lot of people loving it too. I saw someone say that the book has a lot of pop culture references I think so I get why you would say that about when it was written but I'm still always curious about differences from the book to the movie. Apparently you said they cut a whole character..and I'm just like what? Haha. And yes of course to the buddy read! I hadn't thought about it but I think I have time for some reading today so maybe I'll restart it. But I also saw you had a lot of books on your list already so I wasn't sure. There's no pressure and I'm afraid I'll be horrible at keeping up with it lol. I'm not sure if it's like we read a couple chapters then we can talk about it as we go or if you have something else in mind but let me know! I hope you're doing well too and also your dog is the cutest!!!

hi friend!! i am terribly, terribly sorry about how long it has taken me to get around to replying to this </3 i keep meaning to sit down and write an essay reply to your other ask but i have simply not had the time/energy to do so! i treat little women very seriously so it will be a very long essay-answer just so you are prepared! but i did not want to let this ask sit in my inbox longer than it already has </3 and i also just missed talking to you!! how have you been? i would love a behind the scenes documentary/something that gives us more insight into why taylor picks the songs she does from the vaults/how she decides which ones she wants to release/not, and which era she wants it on! i usually listen in order, ending with vault tracks, but i think it'd be fun to shuffle it around! you'll have to let me know which listening experience you enjoyed most 🤍 !! i cannot believe in about two months time, we'll have 1989 tv. i also think that roman holiday is one of those stories that would just not work today! and i think that despite the musical still keeping it in the 1950s, it still felt very ... modern? i don't know how to explain it! i think it was a case of them trying to writing so they could fit in cole porter songs, rather than fitting in cole porter songs to support the script/character development/writing/etc? if that makes sense! i just saw the outsiders is going to broadway, which i'm super stoked to hear more about! ( i know nothing about the outsiders musical, i'm just intrigued) between the outsiders, the notebook, merrily, and then i just saw nycc is doing titanic, i have a better feeling about next season than i have in the past! and then smash in 2024-2025 in theory... i'm just excited! here's a question for you: if you could adapt any book as a musical, what would it be? and if you could revive any show on broadway, what show would you choose? they cut a couple important characters in rwrb, which made me really upset but it is what it is! (+ all the other issues i have with the movie) i do maintain that the book is much better (although not perfect, obviously) but i'm glad that a lot of people seem to love the movie 🤍 it simply is not for me and that is okay!! and yes, still down to buddy read!! i can either match your pace (you can just tell me how much you've read when and i'll read up to where you are), i can read at my own pace and then we can discuss, or we can do a set number of chapters/pages/etc. every x days! let me know what you want to do, i'm flexible 🤍 and thank youuu!! i am doing okay! it has been a rough couple of days over here (family/health stuff) but things seem to be looking up here! 🤍 and my dog says hello!!! hope you're doing well too, friend!

[hockeyblogg]

Imagine: Fred comes home from a long road trip and you’re in the middle of rocking your red headed baby to sleep in the nursery so Fred just comes in and kisses both your heads and heads into the master bedroom. By the time you enter you’re shared bedroom and Fred is changing and just in his boxers. You stand at the doorway just admiring his naked form and he notices you standing there 1/2

Hiya, I checked my inbox and totally forgot I had some asks. However, with this one I only received the one half, so I’ll just make it super fluffy :)) hope you enjoy it and im sorry it’s taking me so long to write, you guys are absolutely amazing for waiting <33 *I also have a thing for nursery’s, I don’t like the idea of leaving my newborn baby in a room all by themselves…just feels weird so I put the baby in the same room as reader and Fred*

- Freddie has been gone for a week and two days

- usually you’d be in routine by now and the days would fly by

- but now with your new son being born, and you still on maternity leave, your days are just a little slower than usual

- your son isn’t a hard baby at all, always sleeping or simply relaxing, doesn’t cry too much

- he’s in the habit of sleeping at around 7 and waking again around 11pm for feeding time

- which is why Freddie comes home to see you rocking your baby in the little chair you have beside his crib

- he smiles softly and rests against the door frame, and you look up from your chest with wide eyes

-“your home” you whisper

- Freddie nods and huffs a laugh, “hope jr didn’t give you too much trouble while I was away”

- you shook your head and sent a smirk, “kinda wish he did just so I’d have something to do while you were gone, besides watching him sleep”

- you both sit in silence after chuckling, just enjoying the presence of your baby and each other

- when you notice your son isn’t eating anymore, you slowly stand and carefully place him in his little crib, pulling it to stand beside your place in the bed

- Freddie comes behind you and wraps his arms around your torso, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your head, “missed you”

- you hum and turn in his embrace, “missed you too”

- you stare at each other with loving eyes, and take each other in once more

- “you’re tired, let’s get to bed” Freddie whispers, gripping your hips and leaning down to connect your lips

- closing your eyes, you nod once more and flop back on the bed, Freddie smiling at you

- “let me go change, wait up for me”

- nodding, you watch as he enters your closet and you take the time to pull back the blankets, fluff your pillows, check on your son and climb in bed

- you start drifting off, tired from the day until Freddie climbs in himself, prodding you awake

- he pulls you closer and wraps his legs around yours

- “I missed holding you so much, I’m glad to be home”

- you look up at him, and he glances at you, “for the next two weeks at least”

- he nods, “yes, but this time it’s only a three day road trip”

- “I know it’s hard when I’m away, but I’ll always comes home elskede, always”

- you’re comforted by his words and with that you hold him tighter and press a kiss to his bare chest

- “goodnight Freddie, I love you”

- “I love you too elskede”

[lizadale]

so i have this post-canon dimigi au file with just a bunch of softfic in it that i totally forgot about until someone brought up "soft" recently and it's kind of a hot mess but. here's 5000 words of it. i can post more if people like it

since it's not during canon, it's Luigi's POV. also might interest those of you who go off about "we've seen drunk Luigi, what about drunk Dimentio?" in my inbox once a month

[]

. . .

“So, are you two…honeymooning?” Peach asks you, bumping a beach ball neatly over to where you’re sitting a few feet away from her, drying off in the sand.

“What?” The question catches you off-guard, but the ball doesn’t. Even though she didn’t formally tell you ‘hey, we’re playing volleyball now,’ you pass it back to her overhand. The princess knows by now that the easiest way to retain your attention is under the pretense of keeping you involved physically. “No? I mean, not in a literal sense.”

“Of course, not in a literal sense,” she says, looking at you like you’re nuts. “You’re not married. You know what I mean.”

“Oh. Right, yeah. I guess?”

You glance over at Dimentio from where he’s sitting in a beach chair several feet away—very pointedly not coming within ten paces of the water—with his nose in a book, looking very out of place on a beach on Isle Delfino. Occasionally he looks up and glares heatedly at the ocean, as if at any second the tide will shift and a tsunami will come sweep him away. He’s carefully tucked under the shade of a large umbrella, except for his bare feet and legs which he apparently has decided to sun. He hasn’t moved since you set him up there.

While you’re distracted, Peach bonks the beach ball off your head and back into her hands. You make a face at her.

“Honeymooning,” you say, amused. You get to your feet and step back a few paces to properly start a volley with her.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m surprised he came with us,” she says.

You are, too. He fought you for only a couple days on the idea before conceding, mostly due to not having a good enough argument not to. He did not, predictably, get anywhere near the airplane; instead, you took the plane with the others and he teleported across the ocean to you once you were on solid ground and away from the crowd. You think it was less a decision given to his standoffish and aloof nature as it was his tendency to get motion sick when he’s not in control of his own movement. Still, you were pleasantly surprised he didn’t change his mind after seeing you off.

It’s not that you expected him to be an avid beachgoer. But Dimentio enjoys being in different places, and he needed a change of scenery for a while.

“Are you disappointed?” you half-joke, like it hasn’t been bothering you for the whole day.

She catches your next lob and gives you stern look. “Luigi,” she says. “I’m not passing judgement on the company you keep.”

You shrug jerkily. “It’s not about my relationship,” you demur.

“I wouldn’t like to be stuck in a room alone with him,” says Peach. “But I don’t mind Dimentio when he’s with you.” She resumes the pass.

You’ve always appreciated her gentle honesty. “I think he enjoys talking to you,” you tell her, “even if he won’t admit it. I heard that at some point he tried some verbal acrobatics on you and you knocked him on his ass. He likes that.”

Peach’s mouth twists in displeasure. “He likes it, or he just wants to keep trying until he wins?”

“Well. Probably that second one.”

You bounce the next one off your knee, and when she bumps it back you, you set it high off your fingertips in an arc toward the ocean. Peach blinks at you in confusion, about to ask why you just threw the ball away. Then Mario comes tumbling out of the water, leaping up the shore and slamming the ball so hard into the ground that sand sprays all over your shins with the impact. You laugh in surprise; you could feel Mario paying attention, but you weren’t expecting him to come out guns blazing, looking to score an immediate point.

“Mario,” Peach tuts. “You ruined our volley.”

“Don’t set it to me if you don’t want me to spike,” he offers plainly.

You’re surprised the ball didn’t burst with the force. You toe it back into the air and deliberately pass it to him underhand this time. His moustache twitches in chagrin, but he starts a new volley between the three of you anyway. His passes to you are intentionally off-target, though, forcing you to move more. Whenever Peach passes to him high enough, your beloved brother spikes the ball so you have to dive to bump it back. You save one of them with the heel of your foot and punt it off his nose, because you’re petty and you hate losing at sports. The princess has a hard time hiding her amusement, as all the balls to her are returned gently while you and Mario are seconds away from foregoing the formality of the ball entirely and wrestling each other in the sand.

Mario kicks it off your chest so hard you stagger back, and you’re preparing to tackle him back into the ocean when he punches the rebound and sends it sailing away from both you and Peach and up shore. You’re baffled until you realize your brother has just passed the ball twenty yards away to Dimentio, who only briefly casts the three of you an apathetic look over his book before snapping his fingers. The ball ricochets of a series of conjured barriers in a frantic zigzag before he shuts off the momentum, landing it neatly within Peach’s reach. Then he returns to reading as if nothing happened.

“Showoff,” Mario mutters.

“What were you expecting him to do? Something humble?” you ask. You equally want to run over and throttle Dimentio for the unnecessary display as you want to hug him for opting to participate at all.

“No,” your brother says. “I was expecting him to blow it up.”

You guess that’s a fair assumption, too.

“When did he get a drink?” Peach asks, shading her eyes against the sunlight.

There is indeed what looks to be a champagne flute balanced in the sand next to Dimentio’s chair.

“Oh, no,” you say. “Who gave him alcohol? Don’t venders need to ID for that?”

“You’re in my spot,” Mario says, nudging you away so he can stand across from Peach.

You shove him back just on principle of the matter, but you’re now interested in the idea that Dimentio is sitting on Gelato Beach, reading a novel and drinking a cocktail like a stereotypical housewife on vacation.

“You’re blocking my sun,” he greets you when you approach—an incredibly amusing accusation considering he’s under a wide brim umbrella with that exact intention. Having apparently inherited a lucky combination of human genes in all the right places, he doesn’t experience the standard sun sickness the majority of Ancients are vulnerable to, but he still burns long before he tans (you have no idea what a ‘tan’ on grey skin would even look like). His feet and most of his legs are still out in the sunlight, probably to counteract the slight chill the sea breeze creates under the shade.

“What’s this?” you ask him, picking up the glass and taking a sip.

“Something I didn’t plan on sharing,” he quips drily, but there’s no ill feeling behind it. He’s used to you sampling from his food and drink by now. Half the time when you eat out you suspect he orders more than he plans on actually eating specifically because he knows your fork will end up on his plate at some point during the meal.

You’re relieved to find out that it’s just a Rossini, which is pretty mild as far as cocktails go. You’re not sure what you’d do if, less than a full day into your trip, Dimentio was already so bored he decided to get drunk.

“No one carded you for this?” you ask.

He blinks slowly at you, like a cat. “I am three thousand and ninety-four years old.”

“You look maybe twenty, by human standards,” you tell him ruefully. “And your tolerance for liquor matches a five-year-old.”

“Did you come to harass me because your brother kicked you out of your game?”

So, he has been watching. “No, I came to abduct you. We’re gonna build a sandcastle.”

He glares at you critically from over his novel.

“Don’t be like that,” you say. “You’ve had your nose in that book for two hours, you’re probably on your second reread. Put that down. C’mere.”

You pull him from the chair, slowly enough that if he wants to fight you, he has the room to do so, until he’s on his feet. He hesitates for a moment, then sets the book down and pulls his poncho off the back of the chair. You let him put it on, despite wondering how he can stand the additional heat.

“I’m not building a sandcastle,” he says disparagingly, folding his arms under the poncho. It’s only because it’d look really dumb that he’s not wearing gloves out on the beach, and he’s still doing his damnedest to keep his hands protected from the sun. That’s the only reason he insisted on bringing the poncho out with him. Otherwise, all he’s wearing are his regular sleeveless top and a very nice knitted skort you’ve been struggling to not remark on all day.

“Right,” you amend. “You’re coming to watch me build a sandcastle.”

“There’s plenty of sand over here,” he says, like you’re expecting him to.

“Need the firmer sand closer to the ocean to hold it together.” You see his eyebrow twitch and add, “Dio, I’ll protect you from the scary water.”

He wavers for a moment longer, then gives up for the sake of not losing face. You know he’s leery of the ocean because he dislikes the danger of being submerged in water. You’d like to teach him how to swim, but you know better than to do it in the sea — water getting in his eye wound is unpleasant enough without involving salt of all things. The hotel has a pool, though. It’ll take a measure of persuasion, but you have your fingers crossed.

Dimentio walks a couple paces in the sand and decides he really doesn’t like that, so you let him climb onto your back while you journey to the blanket towels Peach has set out closer to the tide line. You’ve been carrying him a lot lately, but you don’t really mind. It’s only been a couple weeks since he recovered enough from his personal battle with the Chaos Heart that his health is no longer an issue, but he’s still exhausted. Dragging him out into the sunlight is probably not your greatest idea.

You spend a good thirty minutes playing in the sand—not really making anything meaningful out of it, just molding walls and seeing how ambitious you can get without it falling apart. It’s busywork, mostly, because while you’re not ready to leave just yet you still need something to keep you entertained. Dimentio doesn’t really watch you at all, instead leaning against your back while you work. You can’t reach a whole lot while sitting upright to support his weight, but there are worse fates. Neither of you say anything, and the silence is comfortable.

The breeze is wonderful so close to the water, but there’s also more moisture in the air. You have no idea how he’s surviving wearing so many layers.

After a while, Mario rolls back out of the ocean with Peach in tow. The princess says something to him you can’t hear over the crash of the waves, and he pads up the beach. She waits for a moment, then comes over and joins your castle-making.

“Mario’s grabbing some snacks,” she tells you. “Is this the castle from Bean Bean?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “My inspiration’s all over the place.” You flatten the half-assed wing you were working on and start over. “I’ll need windows, but I can’t reach much.”

Peach cranes her neck to see the magician crowded up against your back and smiles. “I’ve got you,” she says, and sits across from you so she can work on the back of whatever you’re building next.

Honestly, you keep waiting for Dimentio to announce that he’s done being social and wants to go inside. He’s been suspiciously compliant so far, despite you only dragging him wherever you want to go all day. Right now, he’s only making sure you don’t forget he’s there by rubbing lazy circles across your back, but you can tell from his posture that he’s very close to needing a nap. He may demand to go back to the hotel soon rather than risk drowsing in front of strangers.

A swath of shade suddenly approaches from behind, and you feel Dimentio relax a little against you.

“Bow’s mansion?” your brother asks, pointing at the sand.

“They’re kinda similar, huh,” you say. “I was aiming for the ghost house on Donut Plains.”

“It’s got less windows and no shutters,” he informs you. Apparently, the carpenter’s spirit in him will never die. You could show him a picture of any building from any adventure and he’d immediately place it like he was there yesterday.

The shade doesn’t move even as Mario passes by to hand Peach a cup of strawberry gelato, and you realize your brother has lugged that huge umbrella you left up-shore and planted it where most of its shade falls over Dimentio. Because it’s all you can reach at the moment, you pat Mario’s calf in appreciation, and he offers you some cannoli from the armful of sweets he’s carrying.

You take one, split it in half as best you can, and nudge it at Dimentio until he takes it, grumbling. You know he won’t eat the whole thing because he’s not huge on sweets, but the sugar will do him some good right now; when you turn around, you see he absolutely looks ready to fall asleep where he’s sitting. He doesn’t seem annoyed about it, though. Just…oddly subdued. He takes a tentative bite of the offering.

“Cheese?” he mumbles, obviously having expected a plain cream filling. He presses the rest of it into his mouth and hums in approval.

“Ricotta,” you tell him. “They’re best with coffee, though. Move over.”

You bully him farther onto the towel so you can take up the edge of it, and then you lay on your side facing him and the umbrella.

Mario drifts back over before you get further than that, setting the rest of the sweets near the cooler he brought and interrupting you with a bottle of clear gel. “Foot,” he says to Dimentio, motioning that he should be handed the appendage in question.

You prop yourself back up warily. “…Did I miss a spot?”

Dimentio looks at Mario carefully for a moment, and to your surprise he obeys. You think it’s only because Dimentio knows by now that Mario never touches him without purpose, but it warms your heart to see them interacting somewhat comfortably anyway.

Mario applies a thin layer of aloe to the bottom of Dimentio’s left foot, around the heel and arch. Dimentio wrinkles his nose but doesn’t fuss about it. As Mario leaves to join Peach on their own towel, he tosses the rest of the sunblock to you meaningfully.

“Alright, alright,” you sigh. You admit you pretty consistently forget that skin can burn there. You didn’t think it would be much of a problem, since Dimentio refuses to walk on the hot sand at all, but he has had his feet exposed to the sun nearly the entire time he was reading, and since they’re not as calloused as yours they’re much more vulnerable. You don’t even see any obvious sign of a burn, so you don’t know how Mario just glanced at him and decided aloe was needed.

You shift the umbrella a little so it covers more of the towel, and then you lay back down. “Anyway, c’mere,” you say, making grabby hands at the Ancient.

He gives you another slow blink. The sea breeze has his hair tousled more than usual, even though most of it’s tied back at the nape of his neck. There’s something very ethereal about seeing him outside on a beach. It must be the high contrast. The brightness of the sun, the blueness of the sky, and the vibrant colors of Isle Delfino—and then Dimentio sitting amid all that color, with his cool grey skin and jet-black hair, looking so much like one of those elegant old movie still frames that he could hold your attention for hours.

“…Or we can go back to the hotel?” you hazard at his lack of reaction. “I don’t want you to burn more. I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

“No,” he says, removing the poncho, the last bit of color on him aside from his eyes, and folding it against the cooler so it doesn’t blow away. “The breeze here is nice.”

He eases down on his side in front of you, using your arm as a pillow and tucking his head under your chin. The fact that he’s hiding his face means that he’s really intending to sleep. You were right about him needing a nap; you were wrong about him being unwilling to have one out in the open. You curl your free arm around his waist and feel him drowse, utterly relaxed.

You stay awake, because it would be a waste to be too unconscious to enjoy the exorbitant amount of trust Dimentio is displaying right now. He’s such a selfish little shit during regular hours of the day that you take for granted how easily he can melt you with a gesture that says, ‘despite how paranoid I am, I feel safe falling asleep in your arms in a public place because I know you would never let anything happen to me.’

. . .

The storm you’ve been smelling since the plane landed starts to spin closer within the next hour, so you begrudgingly prod Dimentio awake just as the waves are breaking too close to your back for comfort. Peach has already been trying to herd Mario further up the shore, but your brother, in typical fashion, seems to be thinking swimming in those dangerous waves would make for a fun challenge.

“It’s three-to-one,” you yell at him over the wind. “Get your ass above the tide, we’re going back.”

“We shouldn’t have waited so long,” Peach says fretfully, rolling up the towels as spray blows in off the white caps. “It’s going to rain soon, and we have to lug all of this over that hill…”

“Ridiculous,” Dimentio yawns hugely as you drag him off the towel to fold it up with the umbrella. “Why would you do that? Bring it all here.”

Peach looks at him askance. “What?”

“Bring it here, I said. Or is there sand in your ears?” He yawns again, but stands up slowly, scowling at the sand between his toes. Apparently, he’s either slept off all of his sweetness for the time being or is really this grumpy at being woken up.

“Are you, uh, up for that?” you ask, shouldering the awkward length of the umbrella pole and struggling to not let it tip you. “You still seem really tired.”

“I can manage it,” he announces. “I am feeling oddly generous today.”

Mario comes up behind you after retrieving the chair and hastily passes you Dimentio’s poncho while he’s not looking, lest he go ballistic over someone touching his stuff without asking.

“Here, gimme that, too,” you say, taking the chair from your brother. “You grab the cooler and hold onto it. He can’t teleport anything we’re not carrying.”

“Is this safe?” Peach asks.

“I wouldn’t let him do it if it weren’t.”

“You have survived it twice before, Princess,” Dimentio points out. He flexes his fingertips and closes his eyes, as he often does when focusing on a destination. “Though I daresay you might have an easier time now that you are expecting it.”

“Oh, that’s right!” she says. “You did teleport me, when you saved me from Nastasia. …And then you dumped me about twenty feet onto the hard streets of Flipside.”

“…Yes. Well.”

Dimentio snaps you all onto Sirena Beach in place of a meaningful explanation for that. You take this to mean that either dropping Peach from so high had been a miscalculation on his part, or he’s just generally unsure how to deal with her bringing up that particular part of their past.

You and Mario set all the stuff except the cooler and the towels with the rest of the rentals and make it inside just before the rain starts.

And you seem to have misjudged Dimentio’s reaction to Peach bringing up the whole Void adventure because that’s exactly what they’re talking about in the lobby when you walk in.

“…as crisp as a slap on a winter day, or something like that,” Peach is saying, and Mario snorts beside you.

“No, no, no,” Dimentio corrects her mildly, looking amused. “I believe it was ‘your beauty is as fresh as a slap in the face on a crisp winter day,’ give or take a few descriptors. And I believe that comparison aged quite well.”

Peach looks very unsure how to take this.

“Wait, what?” you ask. “That’s how you greeted her?”

Dimentio gives you an unimpressed glare. “At least I did not outright hit on her.”

Mario has mostly failed his endeavor to not laugh by now. Your face heats up.

“I didn’t—”

“’Hey there, gorgeous,’” Dimentio mercilessly parrots at you, “’what’s a stunner like you doi—’”

“NO!” You shake him. “You were WATCHING that whole time?!”

“Of course I was,” he says, not bothering to pry your hands off his shoulders. “If you had died before I killed you, my whole plan would’ve been dashed to pieces.”

“…Do you realize how terrible and stupid that sounds?”

“In retrospect, yes.”

“You didn’t even kill me.”

“Of course not,” he says peaceably. “But you weren’t supposed to realize that.”

“Now that that’s come up, why was I the only one to end up in the Overthere?” Peach asks.

Dimentio turns his vacant smile on her now. “Because the boys needed an incentive to find their way to the last Pure Heart.”

“Mario and Luigi already had it. It was Luvbi.”

“Who?”

It turns out Dimentio had set Bonechill on the Overthere specifically so Grambi would be forced to hand the Pure Heart over to Mario for safekeeping, and he’s rocked by the revelation that the Pure Heart was disguised as a Nimbi and how he almost got Grambi erased for no good reason.

“I mean, I might have liked him dead anyway,” he remarks offhandedly, because it’s much easier than saying ‘oh shit, I almost really fucked that up.’ “It would have been another honorable achievement in my repertoire. Assassinate God. Seduce the Moon.”

And therein Peach seems to remember suddenly why she never starts conversations with Dimentio.

You start shoving him toward the elevator. “Alright, so. We’re gonna just head on up. I need to wash all this sand off, anyway.”

“Wait! I never got to finish my drink.”

“Oh, my god.” You forgot he had alcohol in his system. No wonder he’s been so sweet and pliant.

“I want to try one of the orange ones,” he says in your ear conspiratorially. “All they had on the beach were strawberry and peach. It’s much too sweet.”

“You want a mimosa?” you ask incredulously.

“Or maybe the yellow one is more fitting, do you think?” he asks, pointing at the pictures above the bar when he stalks you into the cocktail lounge, just before the casino.

You are 90% certain the pineapple version of the cocktail is called a Flirtini and involves some degree of vodka. That’s an absolute no. You consider ordering him something virgin, but he’d definitely notice and get offended, and Offended Dimentio will make a lot more trouble for you than Drunk Dimentio ever will. So instead you ask the bartender to at least make sure it’s only one part champagne to three parts juice.

“Oh, this is much better,” Dimentio comments, downing half the flute once you deliver it. “Not nearly as sweet.”

You immediately swipe the glass out of his hands in abject fear. “Sip!” you yell, startling nearby casino-goers. “You don’t throw back cocktails!”

“Excuse me. Give that back.”

“Sip.”

“I will sip.”

“Daintily.”

He squints at you. You squint back. Very carefully you hand him the flute, and because you’re still watching him all he does is swivel the stem thoughtfully between his fingers.

“Where’s yours?” he asks.

“I didn’t get one.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t really like cocktails.”

He gives you a baleful look, and then holds it out for you. It’s because he’s doing it out of spite that you lean forward and let him tip some of his drink into your mouth. He only lets the tiniest bit past the rim before taking it back, still looking particularly saucy that you had the nerve to take up the offer. His nose wrinkles when you lick your lips.

“Daintily,” he says mockingly, throwing back another decidedly not-dainty swig.

You come back up the stairs with him and realize that Mario has taken all of the card keys and disappeared with them, but Dimentio realizes something entirely different.

“You fool!” he says loudly behind you, making you jump. He’s pointing out the lobby window accusingly. “It’s raining!”

It’s coming down pretty heavily now, but you don’t suspect it’ll last long. It’s only a brief shock of a storm blowing by, barely enough to have alerted you at all. The sky is dark despite it barely being around dinnertime. There’s quite an annoyed crowd gathered around the doors; beachgoers forced to return early, tourists with dashed dinner plans, and venders from the rental area spooked inside by the thunder.

“What are you doing,” Dimentio hisses. “You’re missing it.”

You’re not sure why he sounds so affronted. “I don’t have to sit out in every single rai—” you start, and then stop because suddenly you’re standing in your hotel room and he’s shoving you across it toward the balcony. Maybe it’s because you were talking during it, but you didn’t even hear him snap his fingers.

“Shower,” he says.

“I’m—”

“Get out there!”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Nooooooo…….”

“You—” You snort. “Dio, are you okay??”

Dimentio puts his hands on your shoulders and headbutts your back, clearly frustrated. “You’re missing it,” he repeats in a whine.

“I to—I told you not to throw back that drink!” You don’t know what else to do with this exchange besides start laughing. “I can’t believe you—oh my god, it’s okay, look, look, look—” You throw open the balcony sliding doors to the lovely sound of the rain hitting the eaves and railing, because Dimentio looks absolutely devastated that you’re not sitting out in a storm like you usually would, and you’re torn between laughing your ass off and genuinely being concerned for him. “Look, I’m going out, it’s okay!”

He shoves at you again, and you step over the threshold into the warm island rain. You turn around and sit down in front of the door on the floor of the small balcony, facing the room. He visibly relaxes again, and then he sits down as well. He empties the last of the drink into his mouth and reaches his arms out toward you.

You’re not really sure what this means, so you reach back, and he grabs you, and suddenly one of you is sitting in a hotel room and the other is outside getting rained on and you’re holding hands across the divide, and you have no idea what you did to deserve this.

“You almost missed the rain because I wanted a stupid drink,” he huffs.

“Dimentio,” you say earnestly with a bleeding heart, “you’re very drunk, and I’m thinking of keeping you that way.” You bring his hands up and kiss each one gently over the knuckles.

“I’m not drunk,” he corrects you hotly.

The lock clicks on the door as someone slides a card key through the catch, and then Peach is standing there in the doorway. She obviously wasn’t expecting to find the room occupied.

“Oh, you’re already in here?” she asks, baffled. “Mario walked off with your card keys, so I brought them back. We couldn’t find you and you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Keep them,” says Dimentio, lifting his chin defiantly. “He doesn’t need them. He has me.”

Peach’s mouth twitches a little, her eyes catching on the empty champagne flute.

“I told the mixer one part to three,” you tell her solemnly. “But I’m pretty sure they did one-to-two.”

“I see. Daisy says she’ll be here late afternoon tomorrow if she’s lucky. She's having trouble getting away from that wretched chancellor again.”

You grin. That’s sure to be a good time. And you're sure if you check your phone she's probably been blowing up about it all day.

“Are you sure you don’t want a key?” she asks.

“I’ll take one, just in case. You can leave it on the counter.”

“No,” Dimentio says stubbornly. “We don’t need it.”

“What if you’re asleep and I decide to go swimming without you?”

“Do not.”

“Don’t go swimming without you?”

“No! You’re not allowed back in the water!” he blusters. “I can’t get to you!”

“I’m not gonna drown in the pool, Dio—”

“I do NOT care. You’re not supposed to leave the bed when I’m asleep anyway.”

“What if I need to pee?”

“You’ll hold it.”

You look up at Peach pleadingly. ‘Someone save me, he’s too cute.’

The look she returns plainly says ‘he’s not cute, he’s being controlling,’ but you’ve never really been good at taking her relationship advice. “There’s an ice machine down the hall, if you want to work on that headache,” is all she says to you as she leaves, “Mario and I are going to see about dinner when the weather breaks. We’ll come get you when we’re ready.”

. . .

[champagne-bucky]

Debt to Be Paid: II

Summary: Earth fears intergalactic war with another planet. The Avengers are called to work out negotiations on Zevitar, the planet of peace. What happens when they are reunited with their long lost team member?

Warnings: dark!Bucky x reader, mentions of non/dub-con, age gap (reader is of age)

Notes: Ummm, so I’m probably gonna hide under my covers after y’all read this one 😳 I wanted things to get juicy pretty darn fast. Lmk if you liked it! Please make sure to comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more!! Enjoy :)

You almost didn’t believe Carol when she woke you up and told you that home was closer than you thought. Springing out of bed and rushing to the nearest window, you saw a small speck that was your home. It’s been a while since you’ve been on Zevitar, coming up on almost six years to be exact. You never could remember how you left home, but since you’ll be returning, you hope to get some answers.

After what seemed like an eternity, Carol had finally breached the planet’s atmosphere and was radioing in to alert the guards of a ship landing. You’d only hoped that everything was the same. You wondered about your family, your brother, gosh is he even still alive? Surely if he was he would've been looking for you. Right?

“What are you doing?” Carol was preparing to land the ship.

“Uh, landing, what does it look like I’m doing?” She scoffed.

“But no one gave you permission to land,” Carol shook her head and told you to fasten your seatbelt.

“They took too long to answer, we can just explain what’s up.”

You tried to tell her that your people don’t like it when rules are broken. Zevitarian’s take order very seriously. You should know, your family was very adamant on following them.

The landing was rough and you couldn’t determine if you would throw up from turbulence, nerves, or… morning sickness.

Your pregnancy became a hard to swallow pill, but eventually you had to wise up and carry on. You already thought up of an excuse if any of your family asked, but you doubt any of them were even still on Zevitar. Hell, you don’t even know who rules the planet now.

Carol opened the entrance hatch and looked back at you. It was obvious that you were scared. You were going to be alone on a planet whose people might not remember you, and pregnant with the baby of your tormentor. It was going to be a hard adjustment, but it was better than being locked in a jail cell knowing he is still roaming around free.

You tried not to think of him, but every time you closed your eyes he was always behind your lids. That man took so much from you in such a short amount of time. You could never figure out why he went through all this trouble and frankly, you were trying to put your past behind.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a series of screams and bangs against the ship's door.

“OPEN UP BY ORDER OF THE KING. YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON OUR LAND.”

You gasped as Carol rolled her eyes. Nothing could scare this force of nature. She marched right up to the hatch and opened it. Carol didn’t even blink when the guards raised their weapons to her face.

“You were not authorized clearance to Zevitar. We ask you to leave or be taken to the King for punishment,” the one guard said. Gosh, he looked so much older than you last remembered…

“I’m only here to drop off a package, then I’ll be on my way,” the guards looked confused.

“A package? The King is not expecting anything. Let us see this “package””, the guard forced his way through the ship.

You gulped as you heard the guards get closer to you. You prayed they remembered you and you prayed that whoever their new king was would let you stay.

Once the guard came face to face with you he paused. You thought he was just confused about not seeing a physical package, but another being instead. Then, he dropped his weaponry and knelt, the other guards followed suit while Carol stood baffled.

“The Princess has returned.”

__

You never expected to be welcomed back this way. You were almost certain that your family had perished, but it seems as if one survived, your brother, the King of Zevitar.

When the guards were done their kneeling and praising, they were quick to drag you and Carol out of the ship and straight towards your brother. Apparently, word still travels fast around home, and pretty soon a small swarm of civilians were recognizing their long lost princess.

“Sister,” your brother stood from his magnificent throne, the one your father used to sit upon.

“Sister, oh sweet sister is that really you?” your brother dropped to his knees in praise.

“My brother, I thought I had lost you. I thought I had lost all of you,” you began to tear up. You had family still alive, you won’t be totally alone.

“Sweet sister, we thought you had perished. I weeped your death for days, and now here you are standing in front of me,” your brother looked at Carol and began to thank her profusely for bringing you home safely.

“We must gather the kingdom and alert them of the news. Ansel! Call the ladies in and have them prepare my sister’s room. Oh and…” your brother led the guards and servants out of the room as you turned to Carol.

“So when were you gonna tell me about all this princess stuff,” she quirked her brow in amusement.  

“I didn’t see a point in telling anyone back on earth. I figured since no one was coming to rescue me what was the point in going back. I never even knew if my family was still alive, let alone if Zevitar still existed,” you responded.

It was true, what was the point in starting commotion on earth if there was no home to go back to. You assumed that everyone and everything must’ve perished in the war years back. However, now seeing that the planet and your people are fine, why didn’t anyone come looking for you?

“Sister! Dear, sister,” your brother entered the room with the royal ladies of the court, “I’ve made arrangements for your room to be cleaned, your ladies will take you to be freshened up. Afterwards, I would like to have a word with you.”

You looked at Carol as the ladies began to surround you. You didn’t have time to wish her a proper goodbye and she knew that.

“Thank you, Carol. I’m going to miss you,” she pulled you in for a quick hug.

“You too, m’lady,” she winked.

“Carol, please don’t tell them anything about here, about home. Don’t mention this to anyone, not even Wanda or Natasha,” she nodded in agreement and gave you a last goodbye before she left.

You stupidly forgot about your ladies and the strange looks they exchange at your final words. Gossip was their native language and you were sure one of them would slip those exchanges of words to your brother.

__

“My dear sister,” you brother greeted you as you walked into the dining hall. It was only you, him, and a long table in between.

You were dressed in expensive fabrics and your body was draped with the finest jewels, the proper attire fit for a princess. The ladies had been kind to you, but you didn’t miss the whispers of gossip in your native language. You didn’t speak up though, because you wanted to hear what they were saying.

They definitely heard the words exchanged between you and Carol, and you won’t be surprised if your brother relayed the message.

“Take a seat, we have much to discuss,” a servant helped push your chair in while a lady served you a plate and pour the wine, which you took note to try and avoid.

“Sister, it is a blessing that I get to see you again,” your brother smiled and took a sip of his wine. Usually, you would return the gesture, so you held the chalice to your lips, but did not drink.

“I feel the same way, brother. I thought I had lost all of you for good,” you knew your parents didn’t make it. They were the first to be targeted when war struck.

“Where have you been all this time?” and there it was, the question that would lead you to a spiral of lies.

“Earth. I don’t know why or how I got there. All I remember was waking up being surrounded by a bunch of people.”

“The people who brought you home?” He questioned.

“Yes, they took care of me when I was lost and alone. I am forever grateful for them,” and you meant that. Even after all the trauma you had been put through, you will forever be in the Avengers debt for how they helped you.

“Sister, if you are so grateful for them then why do you not want them to know you are here?”

And there it was!

You gulped as you carefully thought of the response to his question. If you told him the real truth you weren’t sure how he’d react. Your brother had always had your back, he would hurt anyone or anything that hurt you. While you wouldn't mind him reining down hell on the man who doesn’t deserve to walk free, you decided it would be better to forget the past and never return to your old life on earth.

“I couldn’t remember anything when I got to earth. You, mother, father, Zevitar, I couldn't even remember how I got there. One day, they finally found out about Zevitar and I took the chance to come back here. I didn’t think you would still be alive, brother. I took a chance to come back here, not knowing the circumstances of the planet.”

Your brother pondered for a bit. He raised his glass to his lips and you did the same, you couldn’t risk suspicion.

“Why did mother and father send me to earth, brother?” You figured now was a good time to ask.

“Sister, I’ll have to admit, a mistake was made which made us to believe you were dead,” you were confused. They thought you had died?

“When the war broke out, mother and father decided that I would stay back and fight and you would leave for a new planet. I promised them I would bring you home after the war, but we thought a tragedy had occurred.”

“What tragedy?”

You started to remember that day. The tensions of war had been increasing and soldiers were losing the battle. You knew that the opposing side wanted your family’s heads, so they devised a plan that could save you.

You were next in line to take the throne. Your parents needed you to be as far away from the planet as possible, so no one would find you and want to kill you. What you didn’t know was that your parents made your brother fight in the war. You guessed that he was forced to fight due to the loss of many soldiers.

“Mother and father had made a deal with Odin of Asgard. You were supposed to live out your days there until war was over. From what Odin had told us, Loki was behind your disappearance. He saw you as a threat and sent you away. The clever god made it seem like an accident had occured. Who would’ve thought you were alive all this time,” you were slowly nodding as you lifted your cup up to your lips, you had to make it look good, you didn’t need your brother finding out.

All this time, someone could’ve been looking for you, but because of a selfish god’s actions you ended up in a predicament that could’ve been avoided. Anger stewed in you, but you had to keep it at bay.

Your brother started to chuckle as you lifted your lips to the cup again. You gave him a weird look as you tried to keep your cool. There was no way that he knew what you were doing right?

“Tell me, sister. Why is it that you lift your lips to the cup, but do not drink the wine? Earth hadn’t dulled your taste buds has it?” Wrong…

He continued to laugh at your antics, but you stayed still. What’s the point in hiding it anyways? It’s not like in a few months a protruding stomach will give you away.

“Sister, sister are you alright?” You brother was out of his chair and by your side in an instant.

“Brother, I must tell you something,” tears started to fall from your eyes. You weren’t sure how your brother would react to the news.

“Sister, you can tell me anything. I promise you.”

“Brother, I’m pregnant,” you hid your hands in your face as you felt your brother still beside you. You knew what his next question would be.

“Where is the father?”

“He died in battle. He was a soldier on earth, he protected and served everyone,” you had to think quick. You knew the rules here, and since you were a royal you had to abide by them. At least you knew there was no chance of the father and your brother ever meeting, so you could get away with it.

“Oh sister, sister if I could only take away the pain,” your brother held you close. He understood now your urgency to not let your earth friends know the real reason you left.

You were pregnant with no husband to help you. The rules on earth and Zevitar must be the same when it comes to single mothers, a taboo. He knew that he must protect you now more than ever with your child on the way.

“It’s okay we will get through this together,” he shushed you into a calm state.

__

*9 months later*

Steve could taste the mix of cooper and soot on his tongue. He’d been fighting off Hydra agents for hours now and finally finished off the last one. It’s been months since he’s been at the compound, Steve’s been spending all his time looking for you.

He figured sitting around at home wasn’t going to bring you back, so he needed to go looking for you himself. He actually convinced the whole team at one point too.

While they got breaks in between missions, Steve was nonstop. He never took a moment to himself and never stopped fighting. The others gave up four months into his escapade. With no leads and fleeting hope, the rest of the Avengers had accepted you were gone and had no plans on returning.

Steve’s phone rang, he declined.

It rang again and again and again.

Each time he declined, Tony would keep on calling back. The man was persistent in getting the Captain home.

By what seemed like the ten thousandth call, Steve picked up.

“Tony, give it up, I can’t come home, not yet.”

“Rogers, as much as we appreciate you knocking off the Hydra lackeys so fast, your time is up,” Tony was annoyed and tired and fighting with Steve.

“Tony no-.”

“LISTEN, you have been gone for nine months, five months dark without team supervision, you need to get back, something’s come up.”

“Something,” Steve was intrigued, had they gotten a lead?

“It’s something that requires yours and all of the Avengers prominent attention. Now, you either turn the jet around or I’ll have to do it myself.”

“I’ll be on my way,” Steve sighed as he punched in the coordinates for back home.

__

Steve could sense General Ross’ fear before he even spoke. The man had been pacing back in force since he came to the compound. He didn’t stop until Tony told him to just spill his guts already.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, we are at war,” Steve sat up now feeling the same fear as the general.

“War? How is that even possible? There’s been no coverage-,” Ross cut off Tony.

“Not war on earth. We are going to war with another planet,” Ross ran the palm of his hand down his face.

The team started arguing with the general. They wondered just how an intergalactic war could even break out!

“Is there any way we can change their minds? Come up with a peace treaty of some sort?” Steve suggested.

“That’s why I’m here. We made plans to negotiate with their general about putting a stop to this before it can even start.”

“There’s a catch isn’t there. There’s always a catch with you,” Tony pointed out.

Ross huffed, “The general does not trust meeting on our planet, nor do we want to go to his. The general has stated they reached out to another planet willing to host both parties until we can work out a peace treaty.”

“And…” Tony baited.

“And, I would like some members of the Avengers to go and represent earth. You are the most trusted figures on this planet, maybe it can put them at ease,” Tony looked at Steve for confirmation, Steve nodded his head in agreement.

“We’ll go. Tony and I will work out who is coming and who is staying to hold down the compound. When do we leave?” Steve asked.

“In about three days. I want your team to be prepared for any type of back up. Bring your strongest just in case,” Steve hummed in agreement.

“And where will we be heading?”

“It’s a small planet, one that had just recovered from their own war a few years ago. They call their planet a planet of peace. Goes by the name Zevitar,” Ross handed Tony some files about the planet and what their mission would entail.

___ *Back on Zevitar*

Who knew that after all the pain you’ve felt in your life, childbirth would be the worst kind. After hours upon hours of excruciating labor, your baby was here.

The last few months haven't been easy. Your people would give you dirty looks when they thought you didn’t see them. They theorized the baby’s father was still alive and coming home was an excuse to be rid of him. Luckily, your brother had been extra protective over you. He even stayed by your side as your bundle of joy was born.

“Do we have a name,” your brother looked down at the sweet angel.

“Yes, would you like to announce it to the people,” your brother smiled as he approached the balcony where the loyal subjects were gathered.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Zevitar…” silence filled the air, “the Princess has given birth to a Prince,” you heard the crowd go wild from your bed.

The whole crowd began to chant.

“LONG LIVE PRINCE ASHER OF ZEVITAR!”

___

*Meanwhile*

Carol kept quiet during the whole journey. Out of all the planets in the world, it just had to be your home planet. She only wished she would have warned you about who was coming.

“Preparing for landing,” she glanced back at the small team of Avengers.

Steve got up from his seat and began to brief the team.

“We need to be on our toes this entire mission. No slip ups, no mistakes. If anything goes wrong we could be putting this planet, and ours, at risk,” Steve began to lecture.

Carol landed in a secure spot where a group of guards were getting ready to approach the ship. She opened the doors as the team got up

“Tony, Carol, Sam, Bucky,” let’s go save our home.

[bella-caecilia]

Cobert prompt: home alone

Thank you for the prompt! I know it has been in my inbox for a while but here is my answer now. I enjoyed imagining different scenarios for this one. Hopefully, you like the one I chose to go with. I set this prompt pre-series. Hope you enjoy it!

Home alone

1891

Cora strolled the gardens on her own. Normally she would have a morning tea with Mama in between the large and luscious bushes of roses at this time. Her mother-in-law was a very demanding woman and Cora did have a hard time with her, there was no denying it. But Mama’s penchant for gardens and flowers led to some of the most beautiful moments Cora had experienced at Downton so far. Violet had made it their habit in summer to discuss the day’s tasks outside amidst her favourite part of the gardens instead of in her sitting room. Every morning, after Cora had joined Robert on his walk on the grounds, she sought the rose garden where her mother-in-law had advised the footmen to prepare a seating area.

Violet wasn’t there at the moment. She was in London for new frocks which were her usual excuse for seeing Rosamund. She spent the day looking at several fabrics and dresses and pestering her daughter with questions. Rosamund had told Cora that Violet hardly ever purchased anything and she suspected that her mother only wanted to have a closer look at her daughter’s new life as a married lady in far-away London. Today was one of the days the countess had chosen to grant her dear daughter a visit, and Cora was walking the paths in the rose garden alone. She enjoyed it though. The heavy scent floated around her and Cora relished the dream-like moment.

After her walk with Robert, he had returned to the house and she had decided to turn to the rose gardens nevertheless. Robert had to deal with some estate business because his father had left for London too. The earl was away for a few days, staying at the club and settling some business. He had advised Robert to manage a few minor tasks that would come up during his absence. Robert was eager to fulfil them responsibly and with care. He didn’t want to show a lack of interest or success right at the start of what would be a long career as ‘caretaker’ of Downton Abbey. Cora supported his ambition into the still rather small tasks he had to handle and she had urged him to tell her every detail of how it went afterwards. She used her time at hand trying to recall the different types of roses and their names Mama mentioned by the by with such great ease. Cora could relate to Mama’s interest in flowers but the older lady was a bit ahead in her knowledge and Cora always looked like a disinterested amateur next to her mother-in-law. She knew that by remembering the roses’ names she would hardly manage to impress Violet but she had to start somewhere. Humming, Cora wandered between the bushes, easily recalling the distinct types. There was only one type of intensive pink and Cora had gotten the hang of telling the different white roses apart immediately after her first visits to the garden. But the apricot roses still posed quite the challenge. The shades and forms seemed to differ more within one bush than between the different types, and Cora thought all of them as equally lovely. If she would want to make real progress on her gardening knowledge, she should consider consulting the gardener, she thought.

Being up to Mama’s mark proved to be more work than Cora had thought when she had married Robert a year and a half ago. Still, she hasn’t given up to find a way into Mama’s good graces, although she doubted, she would find a way into Mama’s heart.

Shrugging her shoulders and taking the last whiff of her favourite yellow bloom (she always imagined having a perfume of that particular rose, it would be lovely), Cora decided to return to the house and look how Robert was doing. In the hall, she already encountered her husband who was in discussion with a footman. It seemed he had received a telegram just now.

“Ah, Cora! Guess who is staying in London tonight?” Robert spoke when he spotted her.

“Uhm… Papa is, I guess,” Cora attempted an answer while trying to discreetly shift her hat whose pins began to prick unpleasantly into her scalp.

“Well, yes,” Robert replied with a shrug of shoulders. “But so is Mama. She just informed us that she would stay at Rosamund’s overnight. She isn’t feeling well and doesn’t want to travel today.” His tone was elated and he now accompanied her to the stairs, nodding his dismissal at the footmen silently.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Cora exclaimed.

“She will surely be alright by tomorrow morning,” he assured. “But she doesn’t have to bother us until she is back.” Cora chuckled at his statement.

“I will hurry to take off my hat. Might I find you in the library in a few minutes?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.” Robert smiled softly at her before she ascended the stairs.

When she met him on the red settees not much later, he already reclined casually on the seat next to the fireplace, the one his father usually occupied. He patted the cushion next to him and Cora sat down by his side.

“You know what we can do when we’re alone at home,” Robert said in a low voice, searching her eyes.

Cora furrowed her brow, trying to think of something he could possibly mean. “What?”

“Well, … everything,” Robert concluded. “It is our house for now, and there is no one to tell us what to do and what not to do.” He reached out his hand to caress her thigh.

“I see,” Cora murmured and a tentative smirk appeared on her features. Robert watched her reaction.

“What are thinking about?” he asked when she was silent for a while and her gaze had left his.

“I just thought that every single room is ours at the moment is all,” she gave back without meeting his eyes. His grip on her thigh grew firmer and eventually, she looked up at his face. She was met by a wide grin and relaxed a little at this sight, not really knowing where this former tinge of nervosity came from. This was her dear and familiar Robert after all.

“I like that thought,” he spoke softly and cupped her cheek with his other hand. He was rewarded with a content smile of hers. She leaned into his hand and her eyes swept adoringly over his features.

“What do want to do in this room for instance?” Robert inquired. Enveloped by her warm gaze he only focused on her vision in front of him.

“Well, I thought about using this comfortable settee in a manner your parents wouldn’t approve of if they knew about it.”

“Is that so?” he grinned and his voice held a teasing tone. Cora nodded and without breaking their warm eye contact she pulled up her legs and unbuckled her shoes.

“Yes, it’s a shame we’re having these cosy settees and no one ever gets really comfortable on them,” she explained while stretching her legs on the part of the sofa that faced away from Robert and leaning her upper body against his. He chuckled and she felt the rumbles that shook his body where her side pressed against his.

“You are really one of a kind, Cora,” Robert stated and began running his fingers through her pinned-up curls.

“Don’t! You’re messing up my hair,” she argued with little conviction.

“I am careful,” he assured. Cora turned until she faced him and her lips were mere inches from his. Without further words, she extended her definition of ‘getting really comfortable’ and covered his lips with hers, her arms looping around his chest. Robert moved his lips softly, relishing the opportunity to drag this unusually sensual kiss in the library. His eyes closed, the feeling of her warm lips was as present as the touch of her small palms on his back, and he enjoyed how her body moulded against his more and more. His hands splayed across the small of her back. Cora emitted low hums into their sealed lips before she tentatively tried to dip her tongue into his mouth. Robert gladly went along with her plans. After all, she was right, it was their room for now and the best way he could think of to use it was exactly what Cora initiated. But feeling growing arousal well up in him, he wasn’t sure how far they should really take it. Therefore, he was glad when Cora pulled back to catch her breath, leaning her forehead against his. Robert brushed his fingertips across her spine and Cora tucked her head underneath his chin.

“I like having the library to ourselves,” Robert pondered.

“Yes, me too,” Cora purred, letting her fingers graze the skin of his neck just where his collar ended.

“You know? One day it will be like that every day,” he said. Cora laughed without restraint.

“I don’t think so,” she chuckled.

“Why is that?”

“Well, I am sure your mother will never cease keeping an eye on us. Apart from that, we won’t be alone, Robert. Not only will there be our dear Mama but also a bunch of children,” she stated.

“Oh, right. I forgot about your big plans for the nursery,” he teased. He could never forget her dream of a nursery full of their children. It was only a few months ago that baby Mary brought life to the nursery.

“These are our plans, Robert. Or am I mistaken?” she inquired, still fiddling with his collar.

“No, of course not. It takes two after all,” he answered. His hands began pressing against her corseted waist more persistently. “Then we have to make the best of our peace in this house now.”

Cora turned again in his arms, lifting her face to his height by pressing her palms to his chest. Her close-up grinning face made Robert chuckle lowly. “I totally agree,” she purred.

[someone-worth-racing-for]

Carlos was just meant to be Lando’s first F1 teammate, they bring out the absolute best in eachother!!! Couple of weeks ago I saw this thing you posted where Lando was asked about the first time he experienced that F1 could be cruel and while he has had that from the outside with like fans and haters and stuff commenting, he never had that from inside cause he and Carlos have really been building a team together! I remember Nico Rosberg talking about the mindgames Schumacher would play with him like not ever recognizing his existence or simply occupying the bathroom till 1 minute before quali when he found out going to the bathroom was part of Nico’s ritual. This is so common for drivers but Carlos and Lando have really been there for eachother, all openness on set ups, data, sitting on pitwall adivising on a track that’s never going to be on the calender again so nothing is for personal gain.. im going to be such a sad mess when they seperate and with 3 races to go it’s weighing heavy ): What is comforting though is that they have had such an undeniable impact on eachother that they will probably never forget the great times they’ve had, I hope ... this turned way more rambley than intended but hey Lando encouraged us to talk about our feelings and frankly they’ve personally violated me bt divorcing 😂

Hey anonym! Btw have I already told you that I love you for those messages you sent in my inbox, because I really do! ❤️

I totally agree with you that they both brought out the best in each other and them becoming team mates was probably the best thing that could have happened to both of them, but also to the team.

And yes, in my eyes Carlos was the best possible first team mate for Lando – they were really meant to be together, because they both needed each other.

Oh God, I have never heard about these stories about Nico and Michael before. I have to admit that I’m not the biggest Nico fan, but if the stories are true, then I think it was pretty unfair from Michael. But that’s only my opinion, maybe some would say it was clever from him to weaken his team mate like that with his mindgames. I don’t know, I’m just not the type of person, who would do something like that and take my whole energy in affect someone in any negative way. Instead I would focus on myself and keep my energie for something good, I don't know.

And I also think that’s how Carlos and Lando think and work, they both don’t seem to me like they would do something like that neither. And I also believe that one day destiny pays back to you such things – I don’t know, I’m just too soft for doing something like that.

I really don’t want to say that Lando wouldn’t be the same, talented driver he is now without having Carlos as his first team mate, but I think his way to where he is now would haven been way harder, more difficult and maybe also longer, if he should have had a team mate, who would have also played mindgames with him.

I think Lando counts to the kind of people who develop in a working, peaceful and harmonize atmosphere way better than in a toxic one.

But I bet not only Lando has enjoyed and benefit of their time together. For Carlos Lando was really some kind of little brother, he could watch out for, teach and show him new things. He really seemed to like that. Carlos has taken Lando by his hand since the very first day and will only let it go again after the last race this year.

And people saying that Carlos was only funny as long as he was together with Lando is nonsense in my eyes, because Carlos didn’t become funny at the beginning of 2019 and will stop being funny with the end of this season. He was always funny and he will also stay funny, we were just not able to see it before, that’s all. Lando, like he has already said once in an interview himself, had just helped Carlos to show the world what a funny guy he actually is. That’s all and such things do really annoy me, I’m sorry.

Lando and Carlos just understood the meaning to be team mates. They were there for each other and so also for the team to develop. When they helped each other, they also helped the team so. If they wouldn't have harmonized like they have, I bet McLaren wouldn’t be like where they are at the moment.

And I also love that quote Henrik has said about these two once – that whenever they do some kind of challenges or have to film something he just let them do, because they are such a great team. Things always turn out to be funny in the end, because they are actually just two friends fooling around with each other.

I think the best example is the ‚snack wars‘ video from last year, when they were actually meant to rate the food, but while just being themselves and fool around they forgot about it and also no one of the team remembered them about it, because they just let them do. They interact so natural and familiar with each other – it’s a really beautiful thing to watch.

I bet there will be many tears by the last race (and not only from my side here). It will be heartbreaking to watch, even when it will only be a good-bye for being team mates. I really hope they will be able to keep this precious friendship they are sharing, even when it will be difficult with being in different teams and also with the virus..

But I think in the end no one can bring the memelord bois apart and especially no one can take those memories away from them anymore. They will always be able to look back at the great time they had with a smile on their lips.

And we were all blessed to watch these moments ❤️

[twinkleimagines]

✨Check Please!✨

Summary: you’re his families waitress but having a rough night. Even though Tom is a big star now, he still has a pure heart.

“Fuck!” You mumbled under breath as you looked for your keys in your unorganized purse.

You were almost an hour late for your shift as a waitress tonight because you overslept studying for some of your college exams. Life hadn’t been treating you well since you moved to England for school. You had no family or friends, you were just completely on your own. And even though the school was paid for, it didn’t pay for your food or your gas , etc. so after school you worked at this overly fancy restaurant that was reservations only . It was essential to keep this job because it was the only source of income you had .

“ oh my god there you are” you sighed in relief, Quickly cranking the car up.

When you pulled up to the restaurant you noticed a long line of people waiting for a table , so you just knew that your boss was pissed and they were short staffed.

“Excuse me, excuse me, sorry! Excuse me!” You said as you moved your way through the crowd.

“Y/n!” You heard someone yell as you were walking back to the employee break room. It was your boss standing at the hosts’ stand with a huge line of people waiting to be seated.

“Get over here!” He yelled. You sighed walking up to him fast, knowing you were about to get humiliated in front of all these rich classy people. “ where the hell have you been? “ he said sternly but low enough for some to not hear.

“I-I’m sorry I overslept I’ve got some pretty big tests-“

“I don’t give a damn get your ass over there and go seat these people they’ve been waiting and we’re short staffed!” He said while pushing the clipboard of table arrangements into your chest. You sighed heavily trying to calm your breath. “ you’re lucky we need you tonight or you could’ve kissed this job goodbye” he said before walking off. You looked up finally to see a young man , with brown wavy hair and   and a piercing Jaw line, staring at you with his big brown eyes. You could see the sympathy written all over his face, but instead of acknowledging it you stood up straight , brushed your hair out of your face and smiled.

“ name please?” You asked, looking back down at your clipboard while waiting for his response.

“Uh Holland” he stated.

“ how many?” You asked still refusing to look up in embarrassment.

“ There’s 5” he said glancing back at his group.

“ okay, right this way, Sir” you stated , giving him a quick smile before turning around walking towards a table .

You stood to the side as you waited for them all to sit down before passing out menu’s.

“ my name is Y/N, I’ll be serving you guys tonight” you said glancing around the table looking at all their faces. “ can I go ahead and get your drinks for you?” You asked while pulling out your notebook. They all started naming off their drinks one by one, the brown haired boy last .

“Tom!” One of the other young boys yelled, grabbing his attention. “ tell her your drink, idiot” the younger one laughed. Tom looked over at you and grinned .

“Sorry I zone out sometimes I uhm, I’ll take some tea, darling”. He said smirking at you. You raised your eyebrows back at him before nodding.

The night was going by so long and you couldn’t help but feel so drained. It was hard to keep smiling and pretending to be this happy go lucky person when you were in such a bad mood as it is.

“Hey y/n , I think you got a crush” your coworker said while nudging your arm.

“Huh?” You asked looking over at her. She nodded her head towards the first table you catered to tonight. your eyes went straight to the brown headed boy, Tom. And sure enough seconds later he was back looking at you. You quickly adverted your eyes to your co worker. “Oh him? Nah” you said throwing your hand up in dismissal. “ he’s probably looking at me cause he feels bad for me. Boss man totally embarrassed the crap out of me in front of him, threatening my job and all that” you said looking back down at the table you were cleaning off.

“ yeah he’s a total ass for sure but that dude can’t keep his eyes off of you” she said referring back to Tom. You glanced over and sure enough he was looking your direction.

“ yeah yeah yeah” you said shaking your head. “Hes probably waiting on me to give him a refill “ you said. You both laughed before going separate ways to deal with more customers . You grabbed a picture of tea to bring to Toms table and started walking towards him. As you were making your way to Him, you couldn’t help but stare in awe as his laugh lit his whole face up, he had a smile that you could stare at all night. And those eyes, the just glistened-

“ dammit Y/N!” You heard your boss yell as you accidentally bumped into him, spilling tea over him , yourself and the elderly couple sitting at the table next to you. Everyone in hearing rang looked your way, including Tom.. again. “ can’t you just do anything right?” Your bossed asked, more like stated. You stood froze not even sure what to say and overly humiliated. “ just go clock out and go home! I’ll let you know if you have your job by the morning !” He claimed while he walked away, wiping what tea he could off of him. You leaned down picking up the now empty picture , grabbing napkins to clean why you could up when all of a sudden an extra hand was next to yours with napkins.

“ you okay?” He asked softly, looking at you with complete concern on his face. You sniffled looking up at him, tears pooling up .

“ I’m fine” you mumbled before grabbing all your stuff and walking past him, going straight to the break room. You felt bad for leaving that way but you were just so embarrassed and humiliated you couldn’t even look him in the eye. You scurried to get your stuff together, dreading to walk back out into the lobby for people to see you again, specifically Tom. You slowly walked out with your head down, you had almost made it to the door when someone grabbed your arm. Go figure, it was Tom.

“ yes?” You asked looking down at his hand.

“ you forgot to get our check” he said.

“I’m sorry” you stated shaking your head. “ he sent me home and I can’t afford to lose my job so I figured I needed to go ahead and get out of here before i screw up more” you stated nervously.

“ accidents happen” he reassured. “ it happens no buggy. But we weren’t Able to tip you “ he stated pulling his wallet out.

“ no no” you said pushing his hands away. “I did a horrible job tonight” you exclaimed. He shook his head.

“ no you were just under a lot of pressure” he said reaching back in his wallet.

“ is everything alright here sir?” You heard your boss say. You rolled your eyes knowing he was about to cause more problems again. “ I’m so sorry about your troubles tonight. I don’t know what was going on with our waitress here but I would be glad to fix any issues you may have had tonight”. Your boss exclaimed to Tom. Tom though smirked looking back at you.

“ I actually came to tip her 2 months worth of income that she makes here so when you fire her in the morning she can still make it . Because accidents do happen and you’re just looking at her job as some toy you can toss in the trash when it’s no longer beneficial to you”. He exclaimed. Your jaw was to the floor at this point . “ but if you’ll excuse me I’d like to finish tipping her so i can get back to my family” he said . Your boss scoffed before walking away.

“ look I appreciate the gesture but I’m no charity case” you stated. He looked at you furrowing his eyebrows.

“ no no I didn’t think you were- I mean I don’t think you are a charity case I just watched you deal with complete bullshit since I got here and that’s not fair of any boss to treat their employees like that” he exclaimed. You looked at him for a second and then smiled .

“ well thanks .. I really appreciate it cause I’m pretty sure my job is done for” you said lowering your head in embarrassment. You walked him over to the check out counter , and he ended up tipping you 2 grand .

“ it’s to make sure you’re straight and have plenty of time to find you something else” he said when you looked at the receipt printed out. Tears started to fill your eyes as you handed him the receipt.

“ well here’s your copy and if you’ll sign this one please” you said sliding him the restaurants copy.

“ there” he said as he signed his name, “ and here’s this “ he said as he flipped the receipt over, writing a phone number down. “ don’t be a stranger , Y/n. Maybe we could be friends” atom said before sliding the paper back to you and walking back to his table . You grinned ear to ear blushing as you looked at the phone number written down.

This would be the start of something new.

*part two may or may not happen, inbox “ check please 2” if you want a second part!*

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Twenty-Four

“Robs, we got a meeting in five minutes,” Beverly stated as she stood beside Robyn’s desk.

“I know. I’m trying to find the vendor file for Albert’s. Question? Did you move some of my stuff off my desk while I was gone?”

“I unpacked that box that was delivered the day your boyfriend came by and moved some of your files to your inbox but that was it.”

“What was in the box anyway?”

“This,” Beverly pointed at a large marble figurine that was now sitting by her phone, “I left the card it came with in your top drawer. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it.”

“I’ve been on Zoom conference calls all day. I haven’t had time to look at my phone. It is beautiful though.”

“It is.”

“Did you read the card?”

“Thought about it but it seemed like a personal gift.”

“Well thank you for your restraint.”

Beverly laughed, “We need to get going to the meeting. I got paper copies of the presentation slides and of the vendor file, we’ll have to find the original later.”

“Works for me.”

Robyn grabbed her iPad and followed Beverly to the conference room.

“Just something for you to always remember me by and to brighten up your desk. Love you. Christopher.”

Robyn smiled as she read the words of the card. Chris got her a just-because gift. And it was expensive as hell, going by the price on the internet when she researched what the figurine was. It was a marble statue in the shape of two non-descript bodies, one male and one female, entwined with each other. She didn’t see one that looked exactly like the one Chris gave her so it seemed to be custom. She picked up her office phone and dialed a number. It rang for a few moments before she heard a voice, “Hello, Professor Brown speaking.”

“Professor Brown? I kind of like the sound of that.”

Chris laughed, “Hey Baby. What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. I just wanted to check on you. How are you?”

“I’m good. Getting back into the swing of things.”

“Regretting teaching for the summer yet?”

“Actually no. I got a pretty good set of students this summer. I’m happy about that.”

“That’s great but I wanted to thank you for my gift.”

“You finally opened the box?”

“The day you came over for lunch, I completely forgot about it. Bev unpacked it while we were in Pennsylvania. Why didn’t you say anything about it?”

“Because it was a gift, I didn’t want to assume you opened it already and then ruin the surprise.”

“I guess. Is it custom?”

“It’s one of a kind but I didn’t have it specially made. The artist doesn’t do mass production.”

“Well it’s beautiful. What made you pick that one?”

“It just seemed like something you would like. Was I right?”

“Very right. What you up to right now?”

“Just finishing up a lesson plan. Why?”

“You gonna be in your office for a while?”

“Maybe a few more hours. I got office hours this afternoon.”

“Cool.”

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Well I just wanted to thank you for my gift. I gotta finish up this proposal and take a nap.”

“You’ve been doing ok with working your normal hours?”

“As long as I sneak a nap in, I’m good.”

“Alright Baby. Finish your work and get some rest, I’ll see you at home.”

“Ok. Love you.”

“I love you too, Baby. Bye.”

“Bye.”

They hung up. Robyn glanced at the clock then looked down at the proposal on her desk, “that can wait until tomorrow.”

She logged into her computer system and pulled up the online order form for her favorite restaurant.

“Somehow I just knew you were gonna pull up on me,” Chris said as he opened his office door. He took the large cloth bag from Robyn’s hand as he leaned in to kiss her.

“I wasn’t going to but then I said what the hell, I haven’t seen your office yet.”

“You haven't?”

“Nope.”

“That’s crazy. I thought I brought you here before but regardless, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I needed to get out of the office.”

“Tough day.”

“Long day. I was gonna just take a nap and get back at it but I decided to just take the rest of the day off.”

“My couch is very comfy if you wanna stay and still take your nap.”

“I’m not trying to crowd your space, I just wanted to bring you something to eat for a change.”

“I like you in my space though.”

Robyn playfully rolled her eyes as she sat on the edge of his desk, “so what’s the lesson for the week?”

“We are working on basic scales on the piano. This is my beginner’s Piano class that I’m teaching this summer.”

“You teaching composition classes?”

“Not this summer. I didn’t want to teach anything too complex. Beginner’s Piano lets me relax a bit because if I don’t want to teach, teach, I can always give them practice notes and they can do that in lieu of class.”

“Ah, good thinking.”

“I have good ideas sometimes.”

Robyn chuckled, “so when are you gonna play for me again? It’s been a long time actually.”

“Well after lunch, I could take you to my classroom, I keep a keyboard in there for illustrations.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great. So we’ll eat, I take you around to see some stuff then we’ll go to my class.”

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

“Dada!”

Chris pulled his attention from Robyn moving around the kitchen to Christian sitting on his lap. He carefully fixed his elongated curls and kissed his forehead, “what’s up, Baby Boy? Daddy not paying enough attention to you.”

Christian poked out his bottom lip and Chris chuckled, “your sister’s been teaching you a lot more than I thought.”

“Did he hit you with the pout?” Robyn asked with a laugh.

“He definitely did.”

“I took his teddy bear this morning and he did it to me. Isn’t it cute?”

“Yea until he realizes it’s power.”

Robyn laughed, “like Anesa has with you.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “whatever.”

“Our daughter has you wrapped around her finger and you know it.”

“She’s just like her mama.”

“I am not spoiled.”

“Yea. Right.”

“Well if I am spoiled, it’s your fault.”

“Whatever.”

Robyn chuckled, “you decide what you want for dinner?”

“Isn’t it a little early?”

“I’m in a cooking mood so I’d rather start while I feel like it.”

“I can cook dinner, Babe.”

“I know but I’m not asking you that. I’m asking what do you want to eat for dinner?”

Chris raised his brow at her and Robyn settled her hands on her hips as she tilted her head at him, “problem?”

“Nope.”

A big smile came over his face and Robyn’s brow furrowed in confusion, “why you smiling so wide?”

“Just realized something.”

“Something like?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Ok,” Robyn said softly, “you know what you want?”

“Oxtails.”

“Yellow rice or rice and peas?”

“Rice and peas.”

“Macaroni and cheese or cabbage?”

“Can you do both?”

“Yup. Dessert?”

“I’ll make it. What you thinking?”

“Apple pie with ice cream sounds good.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll get the oxtails started and in the crockpot so you’ll have your space for whatever you need to do.”

“Check and see if there’s any ingredients you need, me and the kids can go to the store for you.”

“I should be good. I did want to ask you something.”

“Anything, Baby. What’s up?”

“Do you have any friends?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m very serious. I never hear about any or see you leave to hang out or anything.”

“I do have friends but we all have busy lives so we don’t get together as much. Also I did leave most of our friends behind in LA.”

“Do you ever regret leaving LA, separate from the divorce?”

“Honestly? No. We lived there for a long time so there’s not much I missed while living there. You?”

“I don’t know. I think we spent so much time together and traveling all over the place, LA was a home base but it wasn’t home, if that makes sense.”

“I get what you mean. You ever think about going back?”

“I’ve thought about going to visit but never actively made plans.”

“We should take the kids. Go to Disneyland, show them my other profession.”

“How is the firm doing?”

“It’s going well. I haven’t had any fires that needed to be put out so other than occasional conference calls regarding budgets and project approvals, I’ve been pretty hands off.”

“You ever thought about going back to being an architect?”

“I get the chance to still be a part of the industry being on the board so I don’t feel like I totally left in a sense.”

“Understandable.I also need to know if you’re going to my gala with me.”

“Of course. I’m your forever date, remember?”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that but ok.”

Chris shook his head with a laugh, “there you go being stubborn for no reason.”

Robyn laughed, “I’m just saying that I don’t remember saying that.”

“OK Wife.”

“Ok Boyfriend.”

Chris stuck his tongue out at her while he stood up with Christian in his arms, “I’m gonna put him down for his nap then I’ll be back to help cook. Don’t start without me, I need to see how you cook these”

“Oxtails are not difficult to make.”

“For someone who’s been making them most of their life, of course not.”

“Am I giving you a cooking lesson?”

“You could call it that.”

“I think you just want to be up under me.”

“Up under you and a whole lot more.”

“You lucky he’s still an infant and not repeating you just yet.”

“I got some time before we have to start speaking in code.”

“You’re silly.”

Chris left down the hall while Robyn began rummaging through the freezer.

“Ok, you can put the peppers in now,” Robyn instructed as she glanced over into the crockpot. Chris gathered a pile of chopped green pepper and dumped them into the vessel, “those aren’t chopped too big?”

“Nah, it’s gonna stew for a couple hours so they’ll break down. If we diced them to start with, they’ll disintegrate by time the food was done.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“So what exactly do you know how to cook?”

“Anything as long as I got the recipe.”

“You don’t cook from memory?”

“Some stuff, mainly stuff I’ve been eating the majority of my life but everything else, I need a recipe.”

“And here I was all impressed, thinking you were cooking from memory or something.”

“It was still good though.”

“It was but we’ll work on that part.”

“What part?”

“Learning to cook from the heart and not from a cookbook or Google search.”

“That sounds way easier than it is.”

“I think you’ll catch on quick. So earlier, what was that big smile all about?”

“What smile?”

“When I was asking you about what you wanted for dinner.”

“Just reminded me of when we were first married. You get pretty feisty once you get comfortable with someone.”

“I’ve always been comfortable with you.”

“No you haven't, especially since we were kind of pushed into the next step of the relationship before either of us were ready.”

“What you mean?”

“We had only been seriously dating for a few weeks then suddenly we’re moving in together. I’m sure that was not part of your plan at the time.”

“I honestly didn’t have a plan. You were the one ready to get married again.”

“Getting married again and having a baby are two totally different plans.”

“Another baby wasn’t in the plans?”

“Considering your age, I wasn’t exactly sure if you wanted to try for biological children, that’s why I never brought it up.”

“We never talked about kids?”

“No. Nesa asked you about it once but other than that, the discussion never came up. And that was before we were even dating.”

“We didn’t talk about a lot of stuff.”

“Not exactly my fault though.”

Robyn cut her eye at Chris and he shrugged his shoulders, “you had me walking on eggshells and you know it.”

“That was never my intention.”

“I know.”

“You know you could’ve broken up with me at some point.”

“That was never an option.”

“Why?”

“I trust you and your judgment, you know when you’re tripping and will adjust accordingly. It’d be stupid as hell to break up over something that’s easy to fix.”

“I guess.”

“Did you want to break up with me?”

“I didn’t even want to get back with you in the first place, remember?”

“Actually you did but you were afraid to, not the same thing.”

“Fear was the reason. Not dating was the action. You and your semantics again.”

Chris laughed as he grabbed a bottle of juice out of the fridge.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re being feisty again.”

“You’re annoying.”

Chris chuckled as he walked over to her and leaned against the counter next to her. Robyn rolled her eyes as she placed the seasoned meat into the crockpot and put on the lid. She set it to high then turned to face Chris, “so what do you wanna do until dinner?”

“Let’s keep talking about this feisty attitude of yours.”

“I’d rather not,” Robyn pointed a wooden spoon in his direction, “and if that smirk turns into a laugh, I’ma pop you in the head with this spoon.”

“Now you’re threatening me? Oh, I should definitely start planning our wedding.”

“You get on my nerves.”

“And you love me.”

“You’re just a glutton for punishment.”

“Considering I dish it and don’t take it, I will disagree with that.”

“The lies.”

“I got some clips that say otherwise.”

“Shut up.”

Chris took a sip of his juice, “if you were to get married again, do you want a wedding or just a reception?”

“Neither. I’d rather just skip to the  honeymoon.”

“You wouldn’t want to celebrate?”

“Been there. Done that.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to make new memories though.”

“I just don’t want the theatrics. An uneventful proposal and marriage day works. Simple works just fine for me”

“Really?”

“Yea. What? You over there taking notes?”

“No, just asking questions.”

“I already know you’re gonna propose to me so you don’t have to play coy.”

“I’m not proposing tonight therefore I’m not playing coy.”

“Would you want a ceremony?”

“Something simple to mark the moment, yes.”

“Hmm…”

“Why you say it like that?”

“Just thinking. You wanna take a nap? The babies are still asleep.”

“Sure. Bedroom or couch?”

“Couch, it’s closer to the kitchen for when I gotta periodically check on the food.”

“Works for me.”

“When are you gonna make the pie?”

“About two hours or so before dinner, apple pie is better when it’s warm.”

“That’s true.”

“You gonna help me bake?”

“Considering my dessert resume only has pound cake on it, I’ll learn from you.”

Chris smiled then took another sip of juice.

“You and these damn smirks. What now?”

“Feisty then submissive. Just observing.”

“I am so over you right now.”

Robyn tossed the kitchen towel she was holding onto the counter and left out the kitchen with Chris’s laughter following her.

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

“Chris, what are you doing here? I thought you had a class today,” Robyn said as she opened her office door. Chris held up a to-go bag from her favorite BBQ place and smiled, “I came to have lunch with my wife and today’s my free day, remember?”

“It definitely is. Well, this is nice. I was just thinking about you.”

“You were? About what?”

Robyn shrugged her shoulders as she grabbed napkins and plastic utensils from the basket underneath her coffee table. Chris sat down on the couch next to her as she handed him some wet wipes.

“Nothing specific. You just crossed my mind.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Have you done something concerning?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t have to be concerned.”

Chris rolled his eyes and Robyn laughed, “forever the smart ass.”

“You asked. I answered. So what did you bring me to eat?”

“Chicken, hushpuppies and macaroni and cheese. Oh, and a Pepsi.”

“You are ruining my diet.”

“You aren’t on a diet.”

“Precisely my point, I can’t start with you feeding me like this.”

Chris laughed, “you don’t need to diet. As long as your doctor says you're healthy, the rest is welcomed to stay.”

“You just like my fat ass, you can say it.”

“You already did”

Robyn gasped and hit his arm, “you weren’t supposed to agree.”

“That ass is fat. I don’t know how you meant it but I know how I mean it and it’s perfect to me.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you really wanna lose weight or do you think I have a problem with your weight?”

“I don’t think you have a problem with my weight, considering how you always rubbing on my butt, hips and love handles, I’m getting the sense you’re enjoying it.”

Chris grinned at her and Robyn rolled her eyes, “but I’m still personally on the fence about it. I’m not as self-conscious but I’m still getting used to it.”

“Understandable. Well, since we’re talking about things you might still be on the fence about, I figured I’d get this question out of the way.”

“I know you are not proposing to me right now.”

“And if I was?”

“Chris, I am at work and sitting in front of you with Bbq sauce all over my hands and maybe on my face.”

Chris smiled as he used a napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth, “and you’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”

“This can’t be the moment. This is ghetto.”

Chris laughed, “This is not ghetto. This is real. This isn’t about having some spectacular story to tell because I think everything about our journey has been spectacular. I’ve always wanted to believe that you’d come back into my life and for seven years I was deathly afraid to but God and fate saw fit to bring you back to me in a manner that I never imagined. It gave us both clarity and allowed us to remedy a situation that honestly never ended, it just stopped. Robyn Rihanna Fenty Brown, I would be honored if you would be my wife again.”

“Oh my god, I need a napkin.”

Chris chuckled as he grabbed some wipes and gingerly wiped her hands, “better?”

“A little. I still think this is a bit unorthodox but...I’m completely ok with it.”

“Anything else you’re completely ok with?”

“I would absolutely love to marry you again.”

Chris grabbed her face and kissed her deeply before hugging her tightly, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now where’s my ring?”

“I don't have it.”

“How you gonna propose with no ring?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t get a ring. I said I don’t have it, meaning it’s not on my person.”

“So where is it?”

“You got it.”

“How would I have it?”

Chris smirked and Robyn hit his shoulder, “Christopher. Stop playing.”

“I’m not playing. You have your ring.”

“I did pawn our last ring.”

“I know and I wouldn’t use that one even if you did still have it.”

“Chris, where is my ring?”

Chris wiped his hands then walked over to Robyn’s desk and grabbed the new marble art piece that was sitting beside her phone. Robyn’s brow furrowed as Chris brought it over to the coffee table. She became more confused as he turned it upside down and pulled out a silicone plug. He shook it lightly and something wrapped in a white cloth fell into the palm of his hand. He placed the silicone plug back then set the art piece down on the table before turning to face Robyn. He carefully unwrapped the white cloth and a large marquise shaped diamond set into a platinum band that was covered in smaller circular diamonds glistened in his hand.

“Your hand, please?”

Robyn shakingly put out her left hand and Chirs slipped the ring onto her ring finger, “Robyn Fenty Brown, will you marry me?”

She nodded her head as she wiped the tears from falling down her face, “Christopher, it’s so beautiful.”

“I did good, huh?”

“You did but how long was that ring in that piece?”

“Since the day I mailed it to you.”

“So what would’ve happened if you proposed somewhere, not my office?”

“That was never the plan.”

“You planned this? I am not even dressed up or nothing.”

“Because I wanted it to be about us, not fancy dinners and stuff, which there is nothing wrong with, but we’ve also done that already. I thought you would appreciate me not making a huge spectacle of it.”

“I do but I’m also a little caught off-guard.”

“You just knew I was gonna propose in front of the Empire State Building or something with fireworks, huh?”

“I was anticipating it.”

Chris laughed, “are you happy?”

“I am very happy.”

“Good.”

“We’re getting married again?”

“We’re getting married again.”

“EEK!” Robyn squealed as she jumped into his lap and kissed him, “I love you, Christopher.”

“I love you too.”

[faulty-writes]

hiii, I'm kinda new here and I want to ask if you're going to open your request again (I totally forgot to make a request when it was open). your writting ir really good, I love it, have a nice day

Hello, my dear sweet todoroki-vivian,

Thank you for the compliment, I always try to do my best with my writing which is partly the reason why it takes me so long to publish things. Well that and life getting in the way, go figure. But I'm very glad you enjoy my writing, I tend to put a personal worth into it and I do enjoy making others happy with my writing.

To answer your question, hopefully, by the end of this year I'll open them again. Your dear old Faulty-Writes tends to get ahead of herself in some aspects and between my job and wanting to write my own ideas. There are several requests that sit in my inbox which I do plan to get around to. Plus I used to be into role playing which also took time away from my fanfiction blog, but my muse for that has since faded due to personal reasons and I'm trying to focus back on my fanfiction as of recently since writing is pretty much my source of happiness.

In addition, I'm currently in the process of creating pieces for my future side blog where I will hopefully be posting character and ship-based fanfiction, BNHA related of course.

In regards to you wanting to request something from me, you did actually send me a request prior. You requested a Shoto and or Tamaki Amajiki x reader one shot related to them comforting the reader who has been experiencing period discomfort. However, while I'm not currently accepting new requests. I am very open to people changing their current request if they happen to remember what it was and if you'd favor doing that, I would be more than happy to review it and see if I can make you something.

Have a wonderful day my dear

[photiniainsummer]

A Little Audience Participation Can Tip the Scales (1/?): The Lede

Genre: GenFic - Action, Mystery, Humor

Rating: Teen and Up

Story Summary: There’s a strange group living at the old Markiplier Manor.

They’re the villains of their tales, they’re looking for information, and they need your help putting Mark’s scattered egos back together to get their lives back.

And stop Mark and the Entity breaking reality.

Small goals.

(Second Person POV, vaguely fem-coded Reader)

Chapter Summary: The one where your cheeky coworker convinces you to check out the old Markiplier Manor with him.

Word Count: 5372

Author's Note: Decided to cross-post from my Ao3! The next three chapters are already up, and I try to post every Tuesday. :3

Interested?

Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30510852/chapters/75244647

The Lede

You watch amusedly from your desk as Jonah, your coworker-slash-mentor and partner in crime, comes bustling through the door to the reporters’ bullpen. He’s late, as usual, his half-open messenger bag slung across his rumpled self. Scribbled-on papers and even his laptop haphazardly jut out from the bag as he struggles to balance a breakfast sandwich on his thermos. Sometimes, all he had to do was exist to make you nervous. He starts to make his way across to you and your neighboring desks but is intercepted by the resident office mom for what she calls a “good old fashioned talking-to.” She’s always trying to tenderly bully him into being a better example for the junior reporters like yourself, although you have to wonder why she keeps it up despite its clearly limited efficacy. It’s not even that Jonah’s particularly stubborn - he’s just one of those people who, no matter how early he leaves home or how hard he tries, something just so happens to make him late. You can see how it would seem intentional, but you know Jonah’s too honest and, frankly, not creative enough to come up with the plethora of scenarios that conspire against him. You’ve just learned to tell Jonah to show up at least half an hour before you actually want him to.

Eleanor, however, is committed to whipping Jonah into shape. In the midst of her chiding, Jonah catches your gaze and pulls an awful face, startling a laugh out of you. Eleanor, of course, seizes on this and switches to berating him about listening when spoken to as you try to pull your attention back to scanning the morning news. He really knows how to dig himself in deeper, you think, chewing your lip to keep from laughing at the memory of his terrible expression.

“Don’t even start,” Jonah grumbles when he finally extracts himself from Eleanor’s chastising, sliding into his desk across from you. “You heard it, she already ran the full gamut this morning.” You give him your best shocked look.

“Who, me? No idea what you’re talking about,” you reply coolly, punctuating your tease by exaggeratedly returning to your work and clattering at your keyboard. “I was just going to ask how your morning went.” Jonah groans, but his lips tug upward in his typical crooked smile. At least he’d managed to shave without cutting himself this morning, you note.

“Ugh. Just because you were born able to wake up five minutes before your alarm doesn’t mean the rest of us were. Besides, I was up listening to the scanner.” Now it’s your turn to groan.

“That thing again? It’s barely legal for you to have one here, even Walker said as much.” Your boss and head editor had given Jonah his patented disapproving brow-furrow and pressed-lip combo when it had come up in conversation, but he hadn’t explicitly told the crime reporter to get rid of it, either. Jonah argued it kept him ahead of the curve on his beat, but with as many connections as he had, you suspected he used it more for the thrill of it than bettering his job performance. “What was so interesting last night, anyway? Any high-speed chases?”

“Not in our limits, unfortunately.” Jonah chuckles at your unamused expression, popping the lid on his thermos. “Kidding, come on. No, it was quiet last night, except… well.” He pauses, something changing in his expression. It’s enough to pull your attention away from your inbox. Jonah’s a goofball, but he’s a damn good reporter with a mind like a whip. He has to be, to be head of the crime division. So you take it seriously when he casts his eyes around the office before leaning in conspiratorially. His voice is hushed as he murmurs to you. “Someone called in that they saw a suspicious person skulking around the old Markiplier Manor.”

You immediately lose interest. That was news to him? The Manor had been abandoned as long as you had been alive, long since off the market after being passed from renovator to developer for most of its nearing-hundred year existence. Even with calls for it to be turned into some kind of museum, it had never been able to shake its grisly past or tendency for the strange. You’d heard the stories of the few historic maintenance crews dealing with randomly exploding lightbulbs and eerie spectres, disembodied voices and footsteps - but that’s all they were, stories. Stories from a creepy, old, run-down house on the edge of town. It was a hotspot for teenagers wanting to prove their guts - hell, you had even gone with a couple of friends back in high school, although you had been busted by a roving patrol car. You sigh at the memory of just how badly your mom had berated you about breaking curfew and fix Jonah with a disappointed look. He was immature at the worst of times, but you thought he’d at least be able to tell a lead from normal shenanigans. “That was exciting enough to make you late for the third time this week? You��re supposed to be a senior reporter around here, you know.” Jonah huffs, leaning forward on his desk and closer to you. He seems intent, despite your skepticism.

“Well, if you’d let me finish explaining, then you might know why such an on-time and dedicated individual such as yours truly would have let the time slip away from him,” he replies, sarcasm curling his tone. A quip rises on your tongue that he was the one drawing it out so much, but Jonah has a certain glint in his eyes. Something had his attention. You finally turn from your computer monitor and to face him, only slightly exasperated.

“Okay, okay. Listening.”

The man grins slightly and shifts his weight further forward on his elbows, keeping his voice down as he continues. “All right, so, PD gets this call from a neighbor that they saw someone wandering around on the property, yeah? They send an officer to check it out - of course, nobody’s around by the time he shows up. But the weird thing is… they found all the lights on inside.”

You blink, sure you missed something. “Like. Shop lights, right? There’s some construction crew working on it, or… they called in an appraiser and they forgot to turn them off.” Jonah shakes his head.

“Nope. Light fixtures. Every single one with a bulb in was blazing. And no crews or anything, I called the agency that owns the place. The last pro they had in there was over four years ago. There’s a security guard that checks it out regularly, but the power’s been off for years.”

You furrow your brow and sit in thoughtful silence for a moment, hunched and staring at your desk as you puzzle over the details. Jonah watches you intently while you think, taking the chance to work on his massive thermos of coffee, so strong you could smell it across your desks. He’d done this since you’d joined the paper, assuming the role of your mentor, at least informally. He would offer you the details of a story or curious anecdote that he’d started with and watch your mind run. You had always appreciated the exercise - it kept you sharp in dealing with local politics and its various mealy-mouthed players - and he appreciated getting a second pair of eyes on the issue at hand. Sometimes you picked up on things he hadn’t, ran rabbits he might not have. Working the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you roll the details over in your mind, hunting for another explanation as Jonah hunted for the bottom of his thermos. Something didn’t sit right with you about the details, but what?

Suddenly, you land on it, sitting up suddenly and turning to Jonah, who lifts his eyebrows at you. “The neighbor that made the call, did they mention the lights, or just someone wandering around outside?” His face breaks into a pleased smile, eyes dancing with the curiosity of the problem before the two of you.

“Nice catch. They didn’t mention the lights at all, just the trespasser.”

“So the lights got turned on between the neighbor making the call and the officer showing up.” Jonah’s smile turns into a real grin, cheeks split with it.

“Exactly. But why?” The other reporter leans back in his chair with a sigh. “That’s what kept me up, and made me late. Again.” He sips his coffee idly. “And it’s why I’m going to check it out for myself tonight.”

“What?” Jonah jumps in his chair with the volume of your exclaimation, quickly shushing you as he looks around in a panic. He can’t be serious, you think, but lower your voice. What is he being so low-key about? “No, Jonah, you absolutely can not go poking around some abandoned house.” He settles somewhat, content that nobody cast a glance your way after your outburst. Most of your colleagues are already out on assignments, anyway, given the later hour. But he’s determined, unfazed by your forbiddance.

“And why not? I’m just following a lead.” You open your mouth to protest further, but he interrupts. “Oh, come on, you aren’t a little curious to see what’s going on? What’s the harm, the cops just checked it out, it’s totally safe.” That gleeful glint is back in his eyes. How it thrills and infuriates you in equal measure.

“Seriously? Someone could be squatting there, and the cops just didn’t find them. Someone tapping a neighbor’s powerline and clearly not in their right mind, if they’re turning every light on in the place. Besides, even if it is empty, they could have a patrol posted on it now.” Jonah’s excitement begins to fade in the face of your barrage of facts. “If that agency still owns it, then it’s private, posted property, and you’d be actively breaking the law.” He sucks his teeth and slumps back in his chair, somewhat defeated.

“You’re no fun. Where’s your reporter’s spirit, your drive!” You turn back to your computer, shaking your head as you try to refocus on catching up with your inbox.

“Getting arrested for trespassing and/or breaking and entering isn’t ‘reporter’s spirit,’ Jo. You’re not Nancy Drew, you can’t just start poking your nose around abandoned buildings. It’s not safe.”

Jonah pauses for a moment, then gets an annoyingly knowing grin on his face. He leans forward again, good humor returning. “Ohhhh, so you’re scared is what I’m hearing.”

You huff in exasperation. “Literally how is that the conclusion you’re drawing from what I just said? I told you--”

“You’re the one who said ‘safe’! That means you think it might be dangerous and you’re scared.”

“Yeah, for your job and general well-being. Seriously, Jonah, I’m not scared of some abandoned house. Just because a couple of people happened to get murdered there--”

“Ah ah ah, they only found one body. The Mayor and the District Attorney were missing, assumed dead. Same for the killer.”

“Okay, Mr. Nitpicky. You you that’s even less scary, right? But, regardless, none of that makes the place inherently dangerous or scary. Hospitals aren’t scary, at least not like that, and people die there all the time.”

Jonah doesn’t immediately reply, giving you the opportunity to hammer out a reply to a scheduling issue and push your lunch meeting with the Senator back an hour. How did her assistant manage to double book her? you wonder as your reply zooms off. When you get the chance to look back to your coworker, he has a wry, sneaky little smile on his face. “What?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” You shake your head. He really isn’t giving this up. “Fine, if you’re soooo not scared, then I dare you to come check it out with me tonight.”

“Absolutely not, did you forget about the illegal part? We aren’t kids, this isn’t just messing around after school. It could look bad for the paper, and you know Walker as well as I do - there’s no second chances.”

Jonah pauses. Mulling over your words, the threat of being fired. Then, “I’ll buy you dinner from that new Japanese place uptown.”

Visions of high-end sushi dance enticingly in your mind. Your stomach threatens to growl, with it being the end of the month and your bank account looking dismally light. Jonah always knows how to hook you, damn him. It doesn’t help that you knew from that look on his face that he knew you were already burning up inside with curiosity. The two of you were peas in a pod, and he had seen that since your first day at the paper. It was exactly why he’d gotten you set up as his desk neighbor, why he’d taken it upon himself to play mentor for you, probably why he was telling you any of this in the first place, despite how low-profile he clearly wanted to stay. You were going to be at that Manor tonight as soon as Jonah had heard the cop call in over the scanner. You sigh quietly through your nose, letting the decision sink in before you make it official.

“Fine. What time?” you ask, not looking away from your screen. Despite trying to ignore him, you could still see Jonah’s joyous fist-pump out of the corner of your eye.

What’s the harm in a little urban exploring, anyway? At least I’ll be there to keep Jonah from going too far with it, you muse to yourself, already planning your celebratory dinner.

What’s the worst that could happen?

---

Even after three years of working closely with Jonah Scott, you still managed to underestimate just how late he could be. You had agreed to meet at the foot of the Manor’s drive at Jonah-time 5:30, 6 sharp for normal people. However, it’s already pushing half-past with no apology text or update to speak of from the crime reporter. Wasn’t this his stupid plan? you mentally grumble, fruitlessly checking your phone again. At this point, your text conversation was fully one-sided, your messages over the last thirty-ish minutes taking up the entirety of your screen. With a defeated sigh, you flick the app shut and slide over to your ridesharing app. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to stick around, and with the sun setting quickly, like hell you’re going to willingly hang around the abandoned Manor longer than you have to.

As you scan available drivers, you consider just how to make Jonah pay for standing you up. You mentally upgrade your promised sushi meal straight into a sushi boat, and although you know you don’t have the heart to commit to such an egregious attack on his wallet, the thought brings a smile to your face. At the very least, you decide to charge him the cost of your rides to and from the massive property - the place is barely in the city limits, not to mention situated up a long road that only led into an almost equally long driveway. Your already light bank account was begging for mercy as you select a nearby driver. Of course it was surge pricing, to boot. The estimated ride cost is enough to make you pause and hope beyond hope that Jonah and his old jalopy were right around the corner. Maybe his phone had just died. Or maybe he was being a particularly safe driver and ignoring his texts. You decide to give it another couple of minutes, if just to make sure you had no other option but to pay through the nose for a ride home. With a sigh, you turn back towards the Manor itself, its exposed-rock exterior catching the burning sunset.

It doesn’t even look that creepy. Really, with the warmth of the setting sun, it almost looks inhabited, just in limbo between relying on daylight and its residents needing to turn the lights on for the evening. The grounds are well-maintained, too, likely thanks to a strict HOA. You figure that if neighbors are paying enough attention to report people wandering around the property despite how spaced out the houses are here, there’s likely a resident weed-measurer who complains as soon as the yard breaches an acceptable length.

That being said, the building itself barely looks like a home. Although you had brushed up on its appearance and floorplan online, images couldn’t prepare you for just how much it really looks like a castle. You knew its creator, Mark Iplier, had been a fabulously wealthy actor back in the day, building his first house to match, but good lord. There’s still such a thing as too much. It has turrets, for crying out loud. Not to mention Google Earth showed that the massive patio that wrapped around practically the entirety of the backside of the building was home to some kind of natural waterfall-looking pool and a life-sized chessboard. It had been impressive online, but in real life, the place is enormous to the point of ridiculousness.

I guess it matches its creator, then, you muse, considering what you had gleaned from a scan of a few biographical entries earlier in the day. He was a local legend, to be sure, but you had never learned more about him than surface stuff and the details of the murder case that had basically ended his career. Before all that, though, Mark had been the embodiment of every stereotype you could muster about early 20th century new-money creatives -- massive personalities with a penchant for equally massive parties. As beloved as he had been on stage and film, he’d been even more so in social circles, known for all-night ragers with massive multisection big bands, ample liquor even in the height of Prohibition, and occasionally the exotic animal or two. Famously, Mark had once arrived at a costume party on the back of an elephant, led by four retainers and dressed like a prince, swathed in silks.

In that context, the house seemed to make a bit more sense, although it had clearly seen better days. The paint on wrought-iron fence surrounding the grounds needs a fresh coat, peeled off in places; you can see a few shutters hanging lopsidedly from their hinges. It’s almost sad, the longer you look at it, especially knowing the revelry it had once hosted. Mark’s own life mirrored the place, as cliche as it was. After the incident, Mark never seemed able to recover. Even the few pictures you had found of him afterwards looked different - he seemed thinner, his eyes haunted, his smile forced. He’d appeared in a handful of films after the fact, but something had changed in him, and he ended up becoming somewhat of a recluse until his death. It was horribly tragic, really. Just trying to put yourself in his shoes had your throat tightening up a bit. Your childhood friend goes off the deep end and goes on a rampage out of nowhere with the rest of your closest friends as casualties - a freak incident right as you’re hitting your stride--

Suddenly, your phone breaks out into its ringtone, startling you out of your empathetic wallowing. You fumble the device in your hand just to keep a grip on it, cursing as you manage to maintain your hold. You check the screen - a local number, but you don’t recognize it. You answer anyway, crossing your fingers it’s not just a spoof call. “Hello?”

Jonah’s voice crackles through on the other end. “Kid! Hey, I’m so sorry-”

“You better have a damn good explanation lined up, Scott,” you snap, interrupting. “Where the hell are you?”

“God, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to get home for the last hour to call you. My car practically blew up in my face on my way home from work, and it must have been something electrical because my phone was connected and charging and got totally fried. It was kind of working for a second, but I just had to give up and come home in a taxi. I’m having to use an emergency landline, I can’t believe the damn thing even works.” The annoyance drains from your body, his tone so disappointed and clearly stressed that you can’t keep a hold on your frustration.

“Oh, Jo. I’m sorry. Are you okay, though? It didn’t shock you or anything, right?”

“No, thank god, no hospital bills on top of everything else. Look, I’m really sorry. Are you still out there?”

“Yeah, I was just about to get a ride home when you called.”

“Oh, awesome, so have you gone in?!” You scoff out of reflex, stunned at his emotional 180. If he was here, you’d give him a good pop on the head.

“What? No, Jonah, of course I didn’t go in! This was your plan, I was waiting on you to roll your goofy ass up this stupid hill. You’re lucky this place is out of the way, I bet the neighborhood association would have called the cops on me by now if the houses were any closer,” you grump down the line. Jonah’s laugh crackles on the other end.

“Lucky’s my middle name, especially today, right? Look, I know I already owe you big, but can’t you just slip in and take a look around? Like hell I’m gonna be able to afford getting a ride out there any time soon, and you’re already there… Just see if the door’s unlocked or something, look in some windows?” He’s really begging, now, and his tone melts your resolve. How does he do that every time? You sigh heavily, crossing your arms and peering up at the manor. Its large, dark windows stand out against the lighter stone as the sunlight truly begins to fade. They feel like eyes, looking down at you from the top of the hill. It sends a shiver up your spine.

“Jonah, you know I value you as a dear friend and colleague, but... Fine, look, this place is creepy, I admit it, I’m a chicken, I’m scared of the creepy murder house, can’t we just come back some other time when we’re a we and not just a me?” Although your rushed confession is half joking, it’s obvious Jonah isn’t fully engaged. He only gives a short laugh in response before you hear him shift the phone a bit, pausing. Thinking. It feels like an age before he speaks again, the crickets beginning their evening song in the interim.

Then, “Look, Vivian, I. I haven’t been straight-up with you. Yeah, the scanner was going off last night, but the truth is I’ve... been thinking about that place for months. Remember that puff piece about Mark, the retrospective Devontae put up a couple months ago?”

You shift your weight, turning away from the manor and its looming walls to focus on your friend’s voice. His tone had seriously shifted. This is Real Talk time. “Yeah, sure. The board killed it. It was weird, especially since it was his death-iversary, right? But… I dunno, Jo, that’s not enough to--”

“I talked with my friends at the Star, their board nixed a retrospective, too. So did the Inquirer, the Daily, and the Herald. Not to mention anything having to do with Mark for at least the last couple of years. I checked Walker’s record cabinet, too. Anything mentioning Mark, that night, his life after… hell, even the Manor, everything is heavily edited. Anything even adjacently referencing his existence is lucky if his name doesn’t get cut.”

You draw up short. A bit of concrete is loose underneath your feet, rocking slightly with you as you shift your weight from foot to foot. What is he getting at? “I mean. Yeah, okay, that’s pretty weird, but maybe… I dunno, maybe the board doesn’t want to bring up a dark moment like that, or more likely, they don’t wanna openly admit the town hasn’t been able to get their shit together about the Manor and make it into something other than an eyesore all this time later. You know at least half of them take board work as their victory lap after a glorious public service career,” you offer, laying it on thick. Jonah hums, considering it.

“Could be. But still, kind of a personal bent for an editorial board to take, no? Even for them. And it’s not just our board, it’s consistent across the papers.”

“But nothing that awful happened to warrant this. I mean, sure, his buddy killed a detective and presumably a couple of friends in his house, that’s sad, but… Mark wasn’t involved. He didn’t do anything, at least, nothing bad enough to make everyone decide it’d be better if he just didn’t exist.”

“Nothing that we know about,” he offers, quieter. Your blood chills.

“...you think something else happened? Something worse?” Jonah is silent for a moment. His next words are careful.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I think what happened at the Manor has more to do with Mark than he wanted people to think, more than reports let on. And that, whatever really happened, it’s something bad enough that even now, this long after everything and even him passing over two decades ago, someone’s keen to keep it covered up.”

You’re quiet, mind reeling. You were a local, you knew as well as anyone that all of this stuff is treated more like an urban legend than true local history. It’s almost larger than life, at this point; you had heard the story told and retold a thousand times over until the telling itself was smooth and simple. Mark, fresh off a successful play’s run, had invited over his old university buddies for a night of good old fashioned revelry and reconciliation after years of petty disagreements had crescendoed with his wife cheating on him with his oldest friend, the Colonel WIlliam J. Barnum. However, little was resolved, and adding alcohol to the mix turned out to be deadly. Tensions between the group came to a head the next day, and the Colonel snapped. His rampage ended in the death of the city’s leading detective and, presumably, two of the original group’s members, although their bodies were never found, seemingly dumped in the woods behind the Manor. The Colonel’s attempt to cover up his crime left the others a chance to escape and alert the police, but the killer, too, disappeared, and was never heard from again.

It feels like a well-worn path in your mind. Nobody ever questioned Mark’s innocence in everything - it was assumed. He had just been there, equally terrorized by the killer as the other victims. But exact details had never emerged to the public, and Mark had been reticent to ever speak of things. The missing guests, too, were just so easily presumed dead at the hands of their friend, their mysterious disappearances more like eerie window-dressing on a ghost story than a suspicious hole in an otherwise tightly-woven story.

Maybe not so tightly, since now that you can see the holes, it’s hard to ignore them.

The tender inside of your cheek aches from your teeth worrying it, bitten raw. You swallow your thoughts for a moment, trying to return to the conversation. Jonah’s been equally quiet, letting you puzzle. “...and you think the Manor has some clue to that? To what might have… really happened?”

“...that’s my working theory. Mark left the place so quickly after everything, it’s still full of his stuff. He didn’t want anything to do with it, wanted to start fresh. Technically, the local historical society owns it all, now, but you know what their funding is like, so it’s all just sitting around. I figure, in his rush, he left something behind that can give us an idea of what we’re missing. Besides, reports of weird stuff happening there has been on an uptick.” You suck your teeth, feeling some of the edge of the conspiracy theory-laiden tension fade.

“Massive media blackout, I can run with. But, what, you think there are ghosts that have something to do with it?”

Jonah groans. “I never said ghosts, specifically, but… come on, kid, you have to admit it’s weird.”

“It’s practically a hundred-year old house, of course it’s weird - the wires are probably all way out of code and nobody’s been in the place in ages.”

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s a stretch,” he admits, retreating from the point. “I’m just looking for patterns. We don’t have a lot to go on, in terms of hard information. Which is why getting in there is so important.” He’s turning toward pleading again. “Please, kid, it’d mean the damn world to me if you’d just take a look around. I’ve got no idea when I’ll be able to get out there myself. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” You know he wouldn’t, he’s always been considerate of your time and comfort. Really, Jonah is one of the best friends you’ve had, coworker element aside. It makes it horribly hard to say no to him. Which is why whatever reservations you’re still holding on to cave in the face of his honesty.

“...okay. I’ll go poke around. But you seriously, seriously owe me for this one.” You can practically hear Jonah smile on the other end.

“Seriously, I do. Thank you, kid, honestly.” He sounds relieved, taking a steadying breath. Was he really so worried you’d say no? “And take pictures if you see anything!” he quickly adds.

“Only if you call the cops if I don’t call you back in an hour. If there’s someone in there, Jonah, I--”

“Hey, hey, I promise. I’ll stay right by the phone. Cross my heart.”

You sigh quietly to yourself. “All right, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, kid, and seriously. Thank you.” He sounds painfully sincere. You can’t summon up the spite to gripe at him anymore, so you let yourself be equally honest.

“I’ve got you, Jo. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know. Okay, I’m gonna let you go. Just be careful.”

“I will be.”

Then the line goes dead and your phone beeps dully before returning to your ridesharing app. You stare at it for a second, before you swipe up and close the app completely. No way you were going to chicken out now. Apart from Jonah’s confession, your mind was on fire. Sure, you could go home and just apologize to Jonah, but you know you’d be awake all night, tossing and trying to turn over the truth thanks to your limited information but unlimited curiosity. It wasn’t just his skepticism polluting your mind, either, there was definitely something missing from the narrative. Almost like the incident was too well-put-together, the reports from back then too careful with their words, what they didn’t say. Real crimes were messy because people were messy - their memories faulty, their behavior unpredictable and sloppy, even more so when under duress. But everything about the case and its retelling was clean. Neat.

It might as well have been wrapped up with a bow.

With nothing else between you and the Manor besides the peeling gate, you turn back to face its imposing exterior. Although the house had glowed softly in the setting sun, the rock reflecting the light so warmly, it had faded to a soft gray in the twilight. The windows are obviously dark and empty, now, their size exaggerated by the deepening of shadows as the sun slipped behind the horizon. You stare up at them, watching them back through the locked front gate from your tottering bit of pavement. You take another breath in, out. Then you square your shoulders and step up to the gate.

“It’s just a creepy old house,” you mutter, worming yourself between the wide bars. “Nobody inside, just a weird… big house. ” Nonetheless, a shiver goes down your spine when you’re through and the lawn stretches out before you and up to the front door. You crane your neck towards the nearest neighbor, but their windows were dark, too.

So why does it feel like someone’s watching you?