#a redo is more like i finished a whole part and decided something was wrong with it. or if i keep doing the same 2 rows over and over

[mytaegiheart]

My Game, My Rules: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Kim Seokjin x Female Reader

Prompt: When he has you pinned down to the bed, leans in and says “Now we're gonna play by my rules.” Author Note: This one somehow got away from me and didn't turn out at all like I expected.

Walking into the apartment, you were greeted by the loud sounds of bombs going off, childish laughter and cheesy music.

Jin was home.

You wanted to roll your eyes.

Ever since he'd come back from Japan with a new gaming console, when he wasn't working his schedule or at the studio with the others, he was glued to his video games.

You couldn't remember the last time you had gone on a date, just the two of you and no distractions.

And it wasn't for lack of trying on your part. You even stood in front of the television in a full see-through pink teddy and his only response was to ask you to move before his character was killed.

You went to bed alone, frustrated and angry that he cared more about his games than you.

He woke you up one morning after a semi-sleepless night (he'd been up all night again, gaming with Jungkook and the loud noises kept you awake) to let you know he had to go to the studio. Namjoon had called him asking him to return to re-do his ad-libs on a song they were working on because the original file ended up corrupted and they had to redo the whole thing.

“Whatever.” you said, turning your back on him to try and go back to sleep. He frowned, wondering at your attitude before he shook it off and headed out.

You managed to get 3 hours of blissful, silent sleep before hunger woke you mid-afternoon.

After a shower, you were in the kitchen making some ramen when you spied the game controller for his console on the coffee table. The longer you stared at it, the angrier you got. You grabbed it and decided to hide it in an empty shoe box in your closet, a place he refused to enter without your permission.

Feeling good about yourself, you returned to the kitchen to finish your lunch before heading into your home office to catch up on some work.

Listening to music helped you work better, so you had your headphones on and blasting loudly, so at first you didn't hear the loud sounds coming from the living room. But in the silence between songs you did.

You quickly removed your headphones and went into the other room to find out what was going on. Your eyes widened in shock at the destruction that used to be your living area. Books, DVD movies, couch cushions were thrown all over the place. Even the coffee table was on its side, looking like an abandoned child on a street corner.

The culprit was currently tearing through the cabinet beneath the television.

“Jin, what the fuck?” you shouted, catching his attention.

“Have you seen my game controller?” he demanded. You took a half-step back and scowled, crossing your arms.

“You wrecked the living room because of a game controller?”

“Yeah, where is it?”

“I don't believe you!” you sighed, disappointed. He looked at you, confused.

“What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? Oh I have a list, Kim Seokjin.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his inner voice shouted “Full name, dude! You are fucked!” and he suddenly realized he may done something to upset you.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“Mad doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling.” you snapped back, turning on your heel and stomping away. He heard the bedroom door slam a moment later. He sat back on his heels, lips pursed. Taking in the destruction he caused, he set about cleaning it up, giving you a chance to cool off.

It was near dinner when you finally made an appearance. He had let you be in favor of cooking some of your favorite dishes as an apology for whatever he'd done. But you didn't speak a word to him, choosing to ignore his existence as you shared your dinner at the table.

His phone pinged a notification from the group chat and he took a quick glance at it.

JK: Hyung, Overwatch later?

He started to type a yes but chanced a peek at the sad expression on your face as you picked at your food and changed his mind.

Jin: Not tonight, Y/n is angry at me and I need to find out why.

Jimin: Maybe because you've been ignoring her for the past 2 months?

Jin: Wah?

Yoongi: Dude, you've been non-stop since you came back from Japan. When's the last time you actually acknowledged her existence?

Namjoon: I thought I was the only one who noticed. I didn't say anything though, didn't want to seem pushy.

Hobi: Hate to say it, but you haven't been very attentive. When's the last time you took her on a date, or hugged her or gave her a kiss and all that couply romantic stuff you're supposed to do?”

Jin sat back in his chair, watching as you took your empty dishes to the sink to be washed. He went over every instance in his head of before and after his discharge and couldn't remember the last time he had even told you he loved you.

Jin: Shit.

Namjoon: We'll put off recording the rest of this week. Lol.

JK: Go fix this, hyung. I'm sorry.

Jin: Not your fault, Kookie. It's all mine and I'm going to fix it.

He glanced up, looking for you but you were nowhere to be found. A moment later you returned to the living room, his game controller in hand, setting it on the table beside him before going back to the bedroom. He did not miss seeing the sheen of tears in your eyes.

He definitely had some apologizing to do.

He was not in bed beside you when you awoke the next morning. You were not surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised...

Until you went into the living room after your shower and saw him standing in the middle of the room surrounded by dozens upon dozens of your favorite flowers. They seemed to cover every available surface. Your mouth dropped open in shock.

“W-What is all this?” you stammered, approaching him. He took your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“I've been an absolute ass to you as of late and I feel horrible about it. I am so sorry.”

“In what way?” you asked, wanting to know for sure if he knew why he was apologizing.

“Beside my schedule keeping me out, when I am here, I'm usually gaming, either alone or with Jungkook when I should be spending time with you. I wouldn't blame you if you broke up with me.” he pouted. You were a sucker for his pouts, and because he knew why you were upset without any prompting went a long way to soothing your hurt feelings.

“Stop pouting, you baby.” you shoved him with a small laugh. He smiled hearing it. Making you laugh was one of his life's pleasures. “And no I don't want to break up with you. I admit, I was extremely hurt. I thought you didn't want me around anymore.”

“Oh no! I would be absolutely lost without you!” he exclaimed, pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “I love you, I cherish you, I adore you.” he whispered into your hair.

“Thank you, Jin. I needed to hear that. And I love you too.” you returned, drawing back slightly to look at his handsome face.

He stared at you for a moment before he leaned in to kiss you, his plush lips mapping yours. Your heart rate accelerated as you kissed him back. You forgot how good his kisses made you feel and a soft moan rumbled in your throat.

Still kissing you because he didn't want to be separated from you for one second, he scooped you up into his arms and strode toward the bedroom.

You took your time undressing one another, kissing each exposed piece of skin revealed before you found yourself beneath him in the middle of the bed.

“Jin, I-” you started to say as he pinned your wrists to the bed above you head. He shushed you, a dark glint in his eye that made you tremble with want. He leaned in to whisper in your ear as he settled his naked body between your thighs.

“Now we're going to play by my rules. So be a good girl and moan for me.” he smirked, making your core throb...

-End-

Read other shorts in this series: Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

[fibernati]

crochet hook case [part 1]

I decided to exercise my independence and choose an project to do outside the classes. I decided for this crochet hook case, and honestly, I was planning just follow the tutorial, but something happened in the middle of the process.

First of all, I noticed why and how tension is something very important in crochet. Also, now I think crochet is a mix of technique and self-knowledge.

When I posted these pictures at crochet community, talking about the difference in hook size, someone told me that most of the projects indicates the hook size we should use, and this is tottaly true BUT according to my two cents' worth of experience (I've only been learning to crochet for a week), it means absolutely nothing if I don't know how my own crochet works.

What I mean is: when people are creating a tutorial, they will use what suits them, the way they are used to crocheting. But, obviously, we're different people and I'm going to have a different tension, so I'll need to adjust the materials I use.

If my stitches are too tight, I'll naturally need a bigger hook; if they're too loose, a smaller hook. And if I don't know that, my work will be fan-shaped or curled up.

Yes, that's a complaint. I followed everything perfectly, undid and redid it several times because the base wouldn't stay straight at all, until I realized that the problem was that I wasn't paying attention at my own crochet and my tension was too lose. I didn't take pictures, because I was SO FRUSTRATED, but the solution was just undo everything and redo with a smaller hook!

After that, look at this magic:

Of course isn't THAT straight, but so much better than the fan-shape it had before.

I passed the whole day yesterday just working on these 46 rows, redoing and undoing. For real, I finished all of them while I was working, but then I had another problem.

It was the wrong shape AGAIN.

Can you see how I just forgot to follow the straight line on the sides? At least now I know how to make those waveforms, even if I didn't mean to. At first, I thought I could finish the 46 rows and after that, just splice a chain and make more stitches, it would get wider, but that would be better than undoing the whole thing. And, I tried, but I just couldn't do it and I couldn't find any tutorials on it.

My only solution was undo everything AGAIN. This gave me a little ball of yarn, which, thinking about the number of stitches I had made on the sides, was more than enough to finish.

And, I only finished it this morning, still with a few defects and more crooked than I would have liked, but for my first project I think it's okay. I didn't take pictures (again!) but I sent a video to my friend, to show her the defects and I'll post it here tomorrow, when I'm going to post about the border, because I did something completely different from the original idea and thanks to my boyfriend's idea, it is going to also finish in something that suits more my personality.

[klugiicryptid]

AAAAA FINALLY 1/9 of my mane 9 inspired designs. Just warning I have a lot to say with this being the first part sorry ;w;. Still not the final design but! A good step! Ever since I started this series on a whim I’ve been absolutely fighting with these designs. After I finished the original drawing of Desert I decided on these sort of chibi refs (which originally were gonna be more simple but of course I complicated things haha). Things were going well, I got the clean up sketches done for all 9, but as I was trying to finish Pinkie’s lines I burnt out.. and I honestly just need to completely redo her again (aside from the human form which I am happy with). Pinkie and Starlight have been the biggest challenges species wise for this whole series. Honestly there’s a lot I need to change with all “pony” forms in general, aside from Trixie who’s human form I’m the most dissatisfied with. I’m not sure this’ll make sense, but when it comes to the human races I tend to just go with the popular head cannon’s (since I agree with them) or what I imagine them as. But Trixie… I went with something random for the sake of it (Hawaiian), I don’t even remember why, but I feel almost wrong for doing it because it had no thought behind it. Maybe I’m over thinking it? I’d like to hear some feedback (or even your own race head cannons for Trixie!). Either way I’m definitely gonna redo these a lot in the future after all the refs are done because there’s plenty I could improve on.. Plus.. The canvas’ are so small I lose so much detail I wanted.. Ah well..

Aside from the general stuff, here’s some info on Desert herself! Species wise I knew pretty quick I wanted to mix her with a kitsune to have a nyan cat thing going with the tails, I specifically modeled her after a fennec fox because I adore the interpretation of RD being the smallest. Then I used the rainbow bee eater for colors and used the American kestrel as some loose inspiration. Body type was super obvious for me, pear shaped and athletic, which I definitely wanna push more in the future. For the human form I’ve seen lots of people make her Latina, so I went with that (plus I just can’t see her pale-), along with Japanese because well, kitsune, thought it’d make sense. Outfit wise, while I do love the simple tomboy outfits she’s usually given I really wanted her to have some kinda athletic punk outfit, which I probably will change up later to look cooler but it’s fine for now I suppose. Some fixes I know I wanna do is make her tails less plain, and give her actual paws because I just think it’ll look nicer even if I’m a bit sad she looks more fox than pony.

Hhhh that was a lot of info dumping, but! I’d love to hear some feedback :3 I know a lot could be improved so feel free to give some criticism! Also it’s obvious but when I started these I decided on doing a little artistic top nudity.. No real reason, I just like it.

[glamorousruins]

Art Dump #1

I have some time on my hands today so I decided to compile a small post with some drawings/sketches that I've made but never officially posted on my blog! Some are pieces made for friends and others are just drawings I made for no reason lmao

I decided to do this to feed yall some content but also so I can appreciate my art a bit more because right now I'm not all that happy with it kawjshdg

Anyways here we go! (imma also explain some of them cuz I wanna)

so this was a drawing i tried doing of an overblot!Ace design made by my very lovely mutual @ai-0uch !! I had this whole idea of what I wanted to do but then I realized something- I did his design wrong aKWEJHGRH. He has a flower over one of his eyes and I didn't realize it until After I started coloring. Not to mention the fact that for some reason this drawing is too intense for my laptop to handle??? Every time I try opening it to work on it it just closes the app. So I'm physically unable to work on it

Still love how I did his hair though. And I may actually redo this since I'm still so in love with this design

Punk Ruggie!! This was a sketch that was inspired by the Punk!Ruggie design created by my lovely mutual @minccinoocappuccino !!! I loved how scrunkly he looked and just Knew I had to sketch him

This sketch is actually what made me adopt and more sketcher style! My "sketches" are usually always filled with clean and neat lines which kinda defeats the whole purpose. So this little doodle was great because I got to have fun with it and make it as wild as I wanted

And I really like how it came out!! His nose and smile are my favorite part of this one

This is a little fan art I did for another one of my mutuals, @twisted-lusty !! I remembered seeing his post about this guy n went "oh he's horrible. I must draw him" and this was the result

I actually don't hate it??? There is def a lot I could fix about this but I liked the eyes a lot!! I had such a fun time that coloring this in was very enjoyable. And that's hella important to me because coloring in my drawings is my favorite part!!!

Usually, during my drawing process, i color in the eyes mid-sketch so I don't get bored. And I take so much time coloring since it's very relaxing for me to do

oh this fucker

Okay, this is just a silly little doodle that I made for an ask but I still love how it came out??? His face shape, the perfect head-to-neck ratio, his smile??? mwah mwah

It might not seem all that important but unfortunately, I have the terrible habit of pointing out every flaw in a drawing after I finish it and it usually makes me dislike what I made. I'm working on not doing that dw, but I actually like this one. Not to mention, the lineless look of his hair??? Woah that's new

ok so this is getting long so I will be making a second part soon

[theweasleysredhair]

CHLOE MY LOVE! congrats on 4.6k -- honestly not sure how you don't have a million more followers because your blog and your writing is freaking brilliant! so happy to have formed a genuine friendship with you :') brb getting emotional. anyway! for your event, could you write a little something with my love george with a few different prompts? is that allowed? 3 and 8 from angst, 10 from fluff? who's surprised, i'm all fluff, congrats again my darling you deserve it all x

thank you so so much angel!! 💕 of course i decided i had to do a fake dating drabble for you erica, i got v carried away with it too so hope you like a super long drabble that turned into practically a whole fic - enjoy! ❤️

theweasleysredhair’s 4.6k follower event!

~~

3. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

8. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

10. “Because I love you.”

~~~

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 1884

WARNING: there’s no ‘read more’ bc i’m on mobile and couldn’t get it to work hahaha i apologise

Taglist: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @besitos-41 @heart-of-tempered-steel @andineversawyoucoming @mytreec | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit goes to whoever made it

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“I need you to date me.”

In shock, you dropped too many of the porcupine quills into your potion, making the liquid turn a nasty shade of green and sizzle as it practically exploded across the table. You sighed frustratedly, grabbing your wand and cleaning up the potion before turning to the person who spoke - one half of the Weasley twins and one of your best friends, George Weasley - who apparently found your reaction extremely amusing.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. The hint of a smile was still etched onto his face as he leaned forward, “I need you to date me.”

You felt yourself grow warm at the thought, “You’re joking, right?” “For once, I am not,” he shook his head, “I um, I told this girl I couldn’t go to the Yule Ball with her because I had a girlfriend who I’m going with instead. Except, I don’t have a girlfriend. So you can see my dilemma.”

“This may be a stupid question but... if you don’t have a girlfriend, why did you tell her you do?” You raised an eyebrow, half curious, half amused.

“I didn’t want to be rude and just tell her no because she was really sweet. So now I need to find someone to date me, and I thought of you,” he explained with a shrug, playing with some of the potion ingredients you’d left at the end of your table.

“There are so many other girls you could have-“

“I don’t want anyone else, I want you,” he said almost desperately, before sighing downheartedly, “C’mon, it wouldn’t be so bad, and it wouldn’t have to be for long! Just until the Yule Ball. It’s not like we’d have to pretend that much! I spend most of my free time with you as it is.”

“How do you know I don’t already have a date, huh?” You asked, beginning to start your potion all over again before Snape got the chance to scold you.

George’s face dropped and his jaw clenched, “What do you mean? Who asked you?”

“Well, no one. But my point was, what if they had?”

“Then you’d tell them you’ve been given a better option - me - and that they were never good enough for you. You know, the truth,” he nodded triumphantly, running a hand through his hair.

You shook your head at him with a smile, glancing up at him before your gaze travelled back to your potion.

“So what do you say?”

You pondered it for a moment, before replying, “Fine.”

George broke out into a large grin, wrapping his arms around you and very nearly swinging you around the room in excitement, “Darling, you are the best! I owe you big time!”

“Yes, you do. Now, do we have any rules we need to discuss?”

“Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know, a backstory, how we got together, how far we’d go with PDA - I vote not too far if I’m honest,” you said nervously, toying with the hem of your jumper.

“Well I vote the opposite, I think we should have lots of PDA constantly, all the time!”

“George,” you said warningly, though you couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile.

“Fine,” he dragged out the last syllable, “I can only think of one rule. A very important rule that I’m sure you might have a hard time not breaking.”

“Go on?”

“Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with me!” His eyes widened dramatically as he pointed at you. “No chance of that happening, don’t you worry,” you laughed, stirring the potion.

“Well that was rude of you,” he said in mock hurt, a hand on his heart as he pouted at you. You cracked a smile and shook your head, “Oh be quiet will you, and pass me the rest of those porcupine quills, I have to finish redoing this potion that you made me ruin.”

“Nagging me already,” George mumbled, “We really are a couple.”

***

You realised pretty quickly that you were wrong about there being no chance of falling for George. So very wrong. Turns out the chances of falling for George Weasley were 100%, because somewhere between being his friend and being more, you fell head over heels in love with him.

If you were honest with yourself, you’d had feelings for him before the whole fake-dating, but figured you’d mistaken them for feelings of strong friendship.

Now you knew - you didn’t want to be his friend, you wanted him to snog you against a wall as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

And all of this was because of one simple kiss. You hadn’t expected it, didn’t know it was going to happen. All you knew was that one minute you were walking down the hallway with George’s arm around your shoulder - not even for show, really, he just walked with you like that anyway - and the next, your back was against a pillar, your eyes widening as you stared up at George, feeling yourself growing warm.

“W-What’s going on?” You stammered out, heart pounding as you lost yourself in his brown eyes, suddenly getting the urge to run your hand through his ginger hair and pull him by his tie down into a kiss.

“She’s watching,” he murmured, nodding subtly down to the end of the hallway. You couldn’t see anyone, but took his word for it as you figured you were just overwhelmingly flustered from the proximity.

And suddenly you realised what position you were in: his hands either side of your head, trapping you between his chest and the pillar, your own chest barely an inch away from him and his legs brushing against your own.

Your breath hitched in your mouth, noticing how his eyes flickered from your eyes down to your mouth before moving back up again. Your lips parted a little, chin tilting ever-so-slightly upwards as you waited to see what he’d do.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He murmured, and suddenly his lips were on yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss, him cupping your cheek to bring you closer, his other hand sliding down the pillar to grab your waist.

This wasn’t a kiss from someone who was just a friend. This was a kiss that made your toes curl, set your skin on fire and made you want more - so much more.

And in that moment you realised you loved him. You didn’t want to go back to being George’s friend, not when you knew how his lips felt against yours, how his hands felt holding your waist.

He’d finally pulled away for air, still pressing shorter kisses to your lips as you both breathed heavily, and you dragged a hand through his hair, just how you’d imagined.

You knew, right then, that you were in love with him. All of a sudden, and very very full on.

After that, you suddenly noticed and admired everything about him, from the way he laughed to the way he bit his lip as he glanced your way.

And the thought of breaking this whole dating thing off - something that you’d both planned to happen the day after the Yule Ball - made you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of never kissing him again made you want to scream.

You couldn’t imagine going back to being friends. Not when you’d had a taster of what it was like to be George Weasley’s girlfriend.

You argued with yourself, one half of you wanting to end it with him now in order to save yourself further heartbreak, and the other half wanting to continue for as long as possible. It was all you could think about, from the moment you woke up in the morning to the moment you went to sleep at night. And you decided you couldn’t keep going like this, it wasn’t fair to you.

You couldn’t keep pretending you weren’t in love with the ginger boy.

And so, when you found yourself sat in his common room late one night two weeks after that first fateful kiss, sharing one of the red plush couches with him, his leg pressed next to yours and your heart racing, the rest of the students already in their dorms, you decided to be honest with him.

“George?”

“Yes?” George waited for your reply, however at the silence, he looked up curiously, finding you chewing on your lip in thought.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, concern seeping into his voice as he looked at you, noticing how restless you appeared, how lost in thought.

“I um.. yes? I mean no,” you frowned, “I mean- I don’t know.”

He shifted, his body tilting towards yours and he grabbed your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips so he could press a kiss to you knuckles, “What’s wrong, what’s going on?”

“I can’t pretend anymore, Georgie,” you whispered, afraid if you spoke any louder your voice would fail you.

“What do you mean, you can’t pretend? You’re scaring me, princess, please tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours,” he frowned, hating the idea of anything even remotely bothering you.

“I can’t pretend to be your girlfriend anymore.”

And suddenly George felt like he’d been winded, a pain in his chest he could only liken to heartbreak, if he was to be so dramatic.

“What?” His voice was small, especially in the silent room. He wanted to know why. Had he done something wrong? Made you feel uncomfortable at one point? He’d hate himself if he had.

“I can’t pretend because- because I fell in love with you,” you breathed out, lips trembling as you stared at your clasped hands, “This isn’t pretend for me anymore, this is real! And it’s scary, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

There was a silence and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, not wanting to see the look on his face as he tried to come up with, you presumed, a way to reject you.

“You wanna know why I asked you to be my fake girlfriend?” He asked suddenly, squeezing your hands and waiting for you to nod slightly at him, before continuing, “Because I wanted a reason to ask you to the Yule Ball without being rejected. Because I wanted to spend even more time with you, to have a glimpse at what it would be like to date you. Because-because I love you.”

Your felt your heart skip a beat as you finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he smiled at you.

“You love me?” You whispered.

“Always have, I reckon.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you allowed him to pull you closer to him, “Well I guess it’s definitely a good job I fell for you, huh?”

He grinned cheekily, biting his lip as he replied jokingly, “Well, I don’t know really, I mean, I thought I told you not to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, well,” you spoke, letting a soft smile creep onto your face,

“As it turns out, I just couldn’t help myself.”

[not-using-this1]

Accepting

Would you look at that finally a Yelena Belova oneshot?! Yes, I decided it was time to upload her on here again so she’s back :) 

This oneshot is actually from my wattpad (AssassinEssa) where I upload mostly all the time so if you want go check it out!

Hope you all enjoy this one ;)

Y/n tells Yelena that she likes women because she feels safer with her than her own family who she knows for a fact won't accept her. Yelena reveals her secret.

Warnings: mention of abuse, mention of torture, swearing (I think theres like only one in there)

Word Count: around 1600 words 

She couldn't hide this anymore, but she had to. Her family wouldn't accept her at all so there was really no point in telling anyone. She knew for a fact her father would practically disown her (not that he already hadn't) and her mother would just scream at her for hours and then try to set her up with multiple men. Of course she could withstand those things due to her past and the abuse she had recieved the whole of her childhood...but this could likely get her killed (her fathers ex-millitary and her mother and her don't even get along).

Thank fuck she was able to get away from her family due to a program...but that only put her through more torture until she became the woman she is today...although she is still fearful of her parents.

The only person she could trust and even feel safe around was Yelena Belova, although she is rather intimidating, the two women grew quite close during the whole program and after leaving it behind started to stay with one another.

Despite what other people thought of the blonde russian, Y/n knew her more than anyone else, including the black widow Natasha Romanoff. That's when she decided that enough was enough and practically ran over to Yelena' apartment in the rain without even calling or texting her first.

Yelena is her only home.

Y/N' POV

Standing outside of my favourite person' apartment, I hesistated for a moment. I don't understand why...I felt safe with her. Maybe it was the fact that I was scared even she might not accept me and then leave me all alone and I didn't want that.

No, she wouldn't do that to me and I know it, she may be well guarded and barely show any emotion but she's not evil, she understands me better than anyone just like I do her. Finally knocking on her door, I heard a loud crash and "der'mo" (shit). Before I could even open the door, Yelena had already opened it, a bandage wrapped around her hand. Of course I was worried but before I could even say a word..."Got back from a mission last night, cut my hand during it but it's fine."

Before I could even open my mouth to say a word, Yelena interrupted me as she let me in her apartment "Now, what's wrong Y/n?" I looked down at her hand with the bandage on it, still wanting to know if she is really okay and what happened...drive this conversation away from me and what I'm here for but I somehow don't think that will work. I sat down on her sofa, she followed after me sitting next to me, frowning at me...worried.

"You gave me a scare when you called me last night while I was still on this mission, I would've come to you but I had to finish it." She added. I wanted to say it but I was still so terrified that this could all possibly go wrong and I would lose the one person who has been through so much with me...we helped each other through so much pain, on missions emotionally and physically.

I tried to make sure I wasn't going to cry because well I rarely even cry much anymore, I honestly don't have much tears to cry because half my childhood I cried, because of how horrible it was...hence why I'm the way am I now with my ability to fight, spy skills and some very deadly moves.

I froze in place, didn't know what to say or do.

Yelena noticed immedietely that something was wrong, she grabbed my hand with her not-injured hand, I tensed up for a few seconds until I looked up at her, she gave me a small smile and that damn smile just made me calm down and ease up.

"Its okay Y/n, you're alright here." Yelena was clearly encouraging me but also reassuring me at the same time which is exactly what I needed right now. "I can tell you everything 'Lena but this...this might change things for us." I spoke truthfully. The thing is not only am I attracted to women but I'm in love with the blonde sat next to me. The woman who has stuck beside me since we were teenagers and when I was taken to the GRU (black widow program).

Yelena had never been easy to get along with at the start, she was willingly in the program and just wanted to be somebody...I understood that and then from their I guess our rocky friendship grew. But I knew back then that we loved each other...like we still do now and I want today to be the day to tell her.

Because her existence means the world to me.

"Look Y/n, I don't think what you're going to tell me would change anything. I won't hate you. I know these earlier memories of us are horrific but I remember you never giving up on being my friend during the program, you drove me absolutely crazy to the point we even fought phyiscally but at the end of the day we'd always patch each other up. What I'm saying is no matter what I could never hate or leave you not after what we've been through together." There was this soft tone in her voice, it was so calming and so soothing, she really did know how to make me feel safe, wanted and needed.

"Yeah I remember, I've mostly blocked out the bad memories to be honest but sometimes they come back up and I think that you'd react the same." Yelena nodded her head, she understood where I was coming from and that was clear. She knew that all she needed to do was be here and listen and that's exactly what shes doing.

"Do you remember when you and I got a little curious back in the dorms and we kissed?" I asked her, she looked at me and nodded knowing full well what I meant. "Yeah, I remember. It got you sent for a punishment." Yelena added, she frowned at me not looking very happy I bought up that one particular memory.

"Well that was because all my life I've known that I have liked women more than men since I was younger. In fact I've never even liked men. I have tried so hard to but I feel like I'm broken like there's something wrong with me." I finally got that part out of my system but the next part was going to be the hardest...if she accepts me.

Yelena gave me a smile and squeezed my hand ever so slightly, her thumb gently rubbing my hand in the process "You're not broken Y/n and there's nothing to be fixed. You are unique the way you are and besides no one is stopping you this is the 21st centuary my darling." Yelena spoke giving me a smile at the end, her voice soft as she let out a slight chuckle.

"I know but no one in my family would accept me and-

"They're assholes if they can't see that you're still you just because you are attracted to women, it doesn't make a difference and don't you ever put yourself down like that ever again. And besides you always have a place in my world and by my side." I cringed at that a little and laughed at how cheesy that was for the blonde because she's never like this that much.

"That's cheesy even for you Belova" I laughed, she looked at me and rolled her eyes removing her hand from mine "And I thought we were having a moment".

"Wait we were I just-" I panicked just a bit and grabbed her hand but in the process she dragged me down on top of her as she fell back on the sofa we were originally sat on. She playfully wrapped her legs around my waist and I couldn't help but whimper at the slight contact of me pushed against her. "Y/n?" Yelena asked sounding all serious for a moment.

"Do you maybe want a redo?" She asked me. I looked at her confused for a good few seconds not exactly getting the message "what do you mean by redo?"

The smirk on her face, however, told me everything. It was because of the fact I bought up that one memory. But I wasn't expecting her to say that to me. I didn't know how to exactly respond to her but even before I could even say another word she managed to flip us over on the sofa effortlessly and now she was on top of me, my legs wrapped around her waist this time.

"I really like you Y/n. Now kiss me before I change my mind." She states.

With that being said I wasted no time in pulling her down for a kiss, arms wrapped around her neck as she makes the kiss deeper, slipping her tongue in.

"How" she whispers as she pulls away but then kisses me again "would you" she adds bringing back in for another quick kiss "like to move in with me?" I was about to say 'yes' but I couldn't even say anything as she pulled me back in for another kiss.

"Yes of course."

"I'm so happy you told me that you liked women and I'm so proud of you. Because as do I." Yelena adds as she finally lets me sit up. "I'm happy to. Now can we sit and watch movies?" I asked her.

"Yes, but we won't be watching much." Yelena winked at me, I rolled my eyes at her but agreed.

I'm just so happy that I decided to finally tell her, it was worth it. She really does mean so much.

[blueprint-han]

at eleven night, find me ↠ hjs.

genre: sorta platonic au? ; fluff, just petting Jisung’s head as he falls asleep on your lap 🥺

⇥ warnings: none at all.

wc: 1.3 K 🤡 (sighs why am I like this)

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Han Jisung, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble

network tag: @stayverse​​ @districtninewriters​​ @inkidz​​

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @sleepylixie ​ (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: okay so fair warning, I wrote this in 2 hours at midnight whilst I was sleep deprived, so if it’s bad that’s why. :(( Hops you like it though, and I’m willing to redo it if you didn’t <33 🥺😔🥀 ⇥ dawn.☀️

The annoying rooster that popped out of your antique clock did it’s usual routine at 11 pm, though it was surprising of you to anticipate the loud shrill of the bell when it did so. You weren’t even sleepy, just on edge with wanting to meet your friend after a long time. 

You’d admittedly missed Han Jisung, your best friend a lot. His presence every evening beside you, his cute pouty eyes and the way he’d fill his cheeks with food, making him look like the sweetest, cutest squirrel. He wouldn’t let anyone touch his cheeks, but he’d make an exception for you, especially because he’d secretly love it when you’d cup his cheeks and swoon over how adorably red he’d turn when he was shy. 

There was no wrong happening that kept the both of you separated this week, just that you were busy with your thesis and he was busy with his music assignments; and overall the week had reduced you to a tired, grubby state. You so desperately wished to just let go, relax and have a fun time — and it was going to happen soon enough, you figured. Han Jisung had every which way of making you laugh, even if he did basically nothing.

How did you meet? It wasn’t a very special entrance, you just found that he sat alone at lunch, decided to approach him, talked to him for two days and viola, best friends. It sounded too good to be true on paper, but something about Jisung just… clicked. You shared mostly the same interests, and even if you didn’t, neither of you were unwilling to try new things. It was one hell of a wild experience to be with Jisung. Or Sungie, as you called him.

The lighting of your room was practically dim — owing to the “cozy” effect you were trying to create. Warm light splayed through the lamp placed on the wooden table — an antique one again, because you were a huge fanatic of antiques. The air smelled oddly of cinnamon and apple pie. Everything was just perfect — now you just needed one person to step through that door.

“Y/N!” 

And almost like it was fate, a heavy weight threw itself on your back, scaring the shit out of your senses as you shrieked loudly. 

“Agh!... Wha- Jisung!”

You slapped his arm, causing him to recoil in shock as he rubbed the area, a pout on his lips. “What?”

“Couldn’t you’ve rung the doorbell?”

“Couldn’t you’ve remembered to lock the door?” Jisung said, walking around the couch to plop down beside you. He’d changed his hair color, gone from a dirty ash blond to a jet black that complimented his skin tone more according to your preference. You’d had no time to keep up with yourself, let alone Jisung, so you figured you’d missed quite a lot of stuff.

His eyes still sparkled the same way, but his eyebags had gotten more prominent, and he seemed dull, like he’d missed out on days of sleep. Which you were sure he did. His hair fell over his eyes, however, masking how tired he truly was, but you could see through the mask very, very clearly. You also took a moment to admire how pretty he was, because admittedly, Han Jisung was drop dead gorgeous.

You succumbed to the temptation of running your fingers through his hair, strands soft on your skin as Jisung yawned at the action, the sound oh-so-pure and delicate. Tucking them behind his ears, you splayed a gentle smile on your lips as you watched Jisung take your hand in his.

“How was your week, love?” Jisung asked, leaning into the backrest of the couch as his eyes were close to fluttering shut, more because of the way you were running a thumb across the back of his hand. 

“It was okay, I guess.” You shrugged, reaching for the glass of water that was on the center table, relief running through you when the cool water rushed through your throat. You didn’t even know you were dehydrated, figuring that you were most likely distracted from Jisung’s arrival. “You look sleepy.” You pointed out as a matter of fact, noticing the way Jisung’s eyes were barely peeking out over his heavy, drooping eyelids.

“Yeah, I had to stay over at the studio a bunch of times so I’m sleep deprived, you could say.” His voice was raspy as sleep threatened to consume him when you reached out, lacing your hand through his hair again. You weren’t quite sleepy yourself, because you tended to be more of the night owl. Jisung looked absolutely ethereal in this lighting, honey caramel skin almost glowing in the faint light, accentuating his features.

It was always a common habit for you to run your hands through his hair and vice versa. You never remembered who picked up the habit, or when you picked it up, but it soon became an addiction to have Jisung’s fingers massaging your scalp slightly. And it was the same for him.

“Hey,” You slid a hand underneath his head, his warm cheek resting against your palm as Jisung opened his eyes only lightly to look up at you. “You’re gonna end up with a sprain if you fall asleep here.”

“But I haven’t talked to you in so long…” He murmured, nuzzling into your touch as he yawned yet again, and your heart fluttered in your chest. In all honesty, you didn’t know if your feelings for Jisung diverged from platonic affection, or if it was just your mind, and honestly, you didn’t really care either.

All you knew was that Jisung was here, you were here, in this moment, together. That was all, and that was enough.

The boy was taken aback for two seconds when you silently pulled him down, letting him rest his head on your lap before he got an idea of what you were implying. Throwing his legs on the couch Jisung snuggled into a warm, comfortable position. One of your hands tangled into his tresses again, while the other one was intertwined with Jisung’s slender, shorter fingers.

“Mmh,” He hummed in content, placing a soft kiss onto your thigh which led you to shiver. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” You immediately replied, not an inch of hesitation in your voice.

“Tell me about your week then, love.” Jisung murmured, and you chuckled. Anyone could see how far drifted into sleep he already was, and honestly, a part of you loved how adorable he got when he was sleepy. Sleepy Jisung was more clingy, more whiny, and made your heart swell so much faster — it was almost unreal. He was just plain adorable.

You were tempted to ask him if he’d even stay up to hear the whole story, but nevertheless, you began reciting your hectic week, filled with all the fun memories, the stressful ones, the sad ones, all of them. At times you raised your voice, which jerked Jisung awake, but he’d just hum in content before falling back asleep, which would in turn only make you coo over how cute he was.

Jisung couldn’t help it either, your hands in his hair and your soft hand engulfing his own was admittedly too much for him to keep his eyes open. It was such a soothing feeling, at this place he felt his heart at peace. Relaxed. He could banish any negativity from his mind just by hearing your voice, now.

When you finished, Jisung was huddled into a ball, having fallen into deep slumber as you continued patting his head. The gentle smile that always found itself when Jisung was like this creeped back up to your lips, your eyes fluttering close as you simply took in the delicateness of the moment. 

It was almost midnight now, and even though you and Jisung had barely talked, you felt as though you’d communicated for years, simply by hearing each other out. Your friendship wasn’t the kind that could be found anywhere — it had to be made, and a part of it was gifted. It was the best gift, really. 

Because when the clock struck eleven night, you knew you could always find him, no matter what.

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

[piccolini-cuscino]

Getting to the truth.

You’re Bruce’s assistant, but more than that, you’re his friend – his only friend. So, naturally, when he arrives at his own party injured and looking worse for wear, you’re worried. But there’s more than one truth-bomb in store for you!

Note: I had no idea how to finish this one, so it’s a bit garbage (you have no idea how much I wanted to change it up and have it basically be the fic version of Secretary, but alas, this is boring and smut free), but I’m so here for an emo millennial Bruce Wayne and a lil but of humour with my angst.

“Why am I organising a ball for all of Gotham, when Bruce won’t show up?” you sighed, turning to Alfred.

“Listen, I’m just the butler. How am I supposed to know what Master Bruce gets up to at night?”

“You live here, Alfred.”

Alfred leaned in close, peering at you from above his round spectacles. “And you’re his very beloved assistant.”

“Don’t remind me,” you huffed. “They’re only showing up for him, you know. They don’t care about the Wayne Foundation. Orphanages and education. He’s the richest man in Gotham, and no one’s seen him in years. The press would kill for a glimpse too.”

Alfred was fond of you. He always had been. He reckoned you brought a little bit of light to the place the second you walked into Wayne manor, fresh out of college. So, you knew his words were sincere when he spoke, with a gentle pat on the arm. “Well I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me,” you said, turning towards the door. “I’m going home to get ready. There’s a new Dior suit hanging in the wardrobe. Tell the boss to wear it, will you? And remind him to tuck his shirt in. That’s if he decides to show up.”

It was a night of your own making, and you watched it unfold from the lobby. Checking off names. Stopping drunken high society snobs from vomiting into 17th century vases. Directing everyone and their dog towards the bathrooms. But, for the most part, you found yourself alone, dancing with yourself in the cracks of pale moonlight that streamed like silver ribbons on to the sparkling checkerboard floor. No sign of your boss.

Until something caught you off guard. Quiet, shuffling footsteps over by the study at the foot of the staircase. A dark figure emerged from the shadows, hobbling, ascending. Step by step.

“Hey! You can’t go up there!” you called.

The figure moved faster, breaking into a pained jog.

With nothing else to do, you threw off your heels and sprinted after the intruder. Taking the stairs two at a time. They were heading for Bruce’s bedroom. No one, not even the various women he liked to entertain – not even you, as close as you were – went in there. He was a tremendously private man.

Finally, reaching out, you managed to grab their arm.

The figure flinched away in pain, then they turned to you.

“Bruce?” you gasped, feeling your heart race at the sight of him. His dark hair, unkempt and dishevelled; jet black rings around his eyes. His whole body seemed to tremble and heave. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. Then he broke out into a witter. “Go back downstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, I’d hate to miss out on all of your hard work. I just need to–”

But you pulled him back, swiping your thumbs through the muck beneath his eyes. They were blue, but they always looked so dark. Like a pained void. “You need to clean yourself up. Let me help you.”

“You don’t need to see me like this. Go and enjoy your evening. I’m speaking to you as your boss. Please. Go.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.” You straightened up at his words and turned away. But before you reached the stairs, he called your name. If looks could kill, Bruce might have been a heap on the floor. But those eyes, again, dulled any hurt you felt about the distance between you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye. It was a battle even just to thank him politely for the compliment. And your legs shook all the way back to the lobby, through a strange mix of worry and giddiness.

You kept yourself to yourself for twenty minutes, alone with your panic, before Bruce returned. Gone was the darkness around his eyes, and his hair was neatly slicked back. He cut a strong, proud figure as he walked towards you in his suit. Even if he was sporting a limp and clutching his side with every step.

“I thought I told you to enjoy the party?” he smiled.

“Sorry, Bruce. There’s just no one to watch the door and show people where the…” You trailed off as he gently took your arm, leading you through into the reception hall. A warmth radiated from him, soothing but stoic. Nothing like the frantic panic from before.

“Help me get through this,” he muttered as the room fell silent. All eyes on you and Bruce.

The party quickly resumed; music played and the chatter of the guests around you echoed through the hall. Occasionally, beneficiaries of the Wayne Foundation would introduce themselves to your boss, or business bigwigs would try to bend his ear about trade deals and contracts and bureaucracy. But one thing was constant throughout the whole ordeal – Bruce’s hand never once left its place on your waist.

You could feel it there. The way his fingers would trail through the material of your dress as people talked and talked and talked to him. And the tension, when he balled his fingers up into a fist when faced with people that he just didn’t have time for. All those little cues forced the question from your lips. “Would you like to dance?”

You knew he didn’t dance. He hated it, in fact. But in that moment, the gratitude was evident on his small, weak smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Something was wrong, though. He flinched when your hand draped over his shoulder. His gait was unsteady. And no amount of makeup could disguise the bruise underneath his left eye. You kept glancing up at it as the two of you daintily spun circles around the room. And he kept glancing down at you, knowing now that you had noticed.

The song ended and Bruce’s hands dropped to his sides. “I think I’ve had enough for one night,” he said with another defeated smile. “People might begin to talk.”

“I think we need to talk, Bruce.”

His eyes darted over his surroundings before they returned to you; his lower lip pinched between his teeth.

“Please,” you pressed.

“Come with me.”

You and Bruce slumped into two cosy armchairs in his study, with a roaring fire, a coffee table and two glasses of scotch between you. “Don’t think Alfred and I haven’t noticed you sneaking off all the time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stared at the flames. “I’m your boss, remember?”

“You’re also my friend. And you also looked like crap earlier. Who did that to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, shifting in his chair, letting out an audible groan.

“They obviously hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No you can’t. I think me being here says that much. C’mere,” you said, beckoning him.

“When you’re right you’re right.” Bruce might have been your boss, but he still knew better than to defy you; he slumped to his knees and shuffled over to you.

“Let me take a look at the damage.”

For the second time that night, Bruce recoiled from your touch as you gently pulled up his shirt, exposing a galaxy of bruises along his ribcage and a large, makeshift dressing on his lower abdomen. “Easy,” he said, swatting your hand away.

“How did you get that?” You peeled it away from his skin as gingerly as you could manage. Rather than concern, your voice grew cold. Serious, even. “What have you been doing?”

“I’m a little disappointed,” Bruce remarked through gritted teeth.

“How so?” you asked, running your fingertips over the slap-dash stitches that held together the vivid red gash.

“I thought this was something else.”

“Something’s eating you, though. And who did these stitches?”

“I did,” Bruce said, his jaw clenched.

“Can I redo them?”

Bruce was growing breathless by the time you finished inspecting his wound. “First aid kit’s in the top drawer of my desk,” he wheezed.

“Rubbing alcohol, too?”

“It’s all there.” Bruce wearily watched from the floor as your pale outline trailed its way across the study. His heart growing faster. “You really do look beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet and spiked with hope. He couldn’t meet your eyes when you looked up from rummaging in the drawer, so he stared down at the rug, finding interest there instead, with one hand clawing through his hair. “What was it that you wanted to ask me, by the way?”

“I really don’t like repeating myself, so cut the bullshit, Bruce.” You were so matter of fact, breezing back over to him and joining him on the floor. “I wanted to know where you go at night.”

“If I told you the truth, then you’d have me shipped off to Arkham.”

You poured some of the alcohol on to a cotton swab, keeping your eyes on Bruce. There was always something so defeated about him when the two of you were alone, that no one else ever got to see. And something always got in the way of him being honest with you. “Want to bet on that? How do you know I’m not already considering it?”

Bruce almost chuckled, but the sting from his side made him draw a sharp breath. He studied you out the corner of his eye. “Do you really… want to know?”

“It’d be nice to not have to spend my evenings with Alfred, who worries like a mother hen.”

Bruce choked out his next string of words in quick succession. “Can I tell you something first?”

“Before I cut you open?” you quipped.

“Preferably.”

Before Bruce reached the end of that word, you had already snipped through his self-administered stitches, revealing just how deep the wound actually was. Your feeble attempt at being jovial quickly switched to a reserved kind of worry.

“You’re the first person who’s ever really understood me. You never pry or say too much. You’re always there. And you have such a low tolerance for bullshit. You don’t coddle or bow down because I’m Bruce Wayne. Plus it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t in their sixties or who knew my father…”

You hummed in acknowledgement, neatly weaving the wire through Bruce’s skin. Too focused on the job at hand to really get what he meant. Until his fingertips brushed over your jawline.

“You’re my only friend in this godforsaken world.”

“Besides Alfred,” the pair of you said in unison.

Biting back a fit of laughter, you stroked his cheek and he keened, like an animal craving affection. “What are you trying to say, Bruce?”

Every fibre of Bruce’s being tensed with renewed panic and a tinge of awkwardness. His wide eyes searched for something, anything, to focus on, as long as it wasn’t you. “I’m…I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m–“

With a mental fuck it, you threw caution to the wind. You couldn’t stand hearing him bumble on like this. Closing the gap, your lips crashed on to his. He tasted like scotch and cigars, and this much of him was never going to be enough for you. Just when your hands tangled through his hair, Bruce pulled away.

“I’m the Batman.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Bruce nodded.

“I would’ve settled for ‘I’m in love with you’ you know.”

He sighed, sitting back so casually now that the difficult part was over. “That, too.”

“You can’t lie to me anymore, you know that, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“So,” you said, glancing around the study, “which bookcase is actually a revolving door?”

“Huh?” Bruce asked, pulling down his shirt.

“Secret lair… a bat cave, if you will.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. Then he pointed towards the bookcase behind you. “It’s that one. Pull out Ulysses and it’ll… spin right round. Be careful not to let the bats out, though. They’re kind of like my pets.”

“Fuck you, Bruce.”

“I can show you if you want?” he said, hopefully, as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll settle for another kiss. And you getting some rest.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What, the bat part or the other part?”

Bruce chuckled and planted a small, soft kiss to your forehead. “Both.”

“I had my suspicions. One thing’s for sure though…”

“What?”

“You might need a few pointers with your eyeliner.”

[httpsaiki]

hi, I saw requests were open and had to send one >//< hope im not bugging you too badly eheh. anyways, may I request a teruhashi x fem!reader fic? maybe on a first date to a shopping district or mall. and reader is semi nervous and has slight doubts about dating someone like teruhashi, in which teruhashi reassures her.

Hi! You most certainly may! I loved this so much, I think Teruhashi is honestly a really great character and this idea was far too cute to pass up. That being said, this is very self-indulgent and I really hope you like it! Teruhashi deserves all the love! If this isnt’t what you wanted, please let me know and I am more than happy to redo it! Thank you for your request!!

----

Reader is female! There are mentions of insecurity of things like self-worth, social status and offhandedly body image, so please don’t read if you are sensitive to that.

WC: 1627

Kokomi and the reader have never had a proper date and today seems like a great day! But, the reader is nervous as Kokomi is just so perfect in her eyes (and everyone else’s). She of course picks up on this, and comforts her beloved girlfriend.

—————————————————–

You had been adding the finishing touches to your outfit, getting ready to head out. Were you ready for this, though? A date? With Teruhashi? While you were close enough to her to know a bit more of her true self - you are dating after all - it was always at least a little nervewracking being in public with her. Normally, your dates would be stay at home things, like study dates or a simple dinner, nothing out of the ordinary from before you started dating. You opted for the small things as Teruhashi got constant stares and her fans could be over the top sometimes. It could be very stressful, as you both usually just wanted to relax together. Today, on the other hand, you’d made plans to go out shopping It was finally summer vacation, so why not give it a shot? You two always talked about looking for clothes together and walking around cute shops and sightseeing.

The thing was, Teruhashi looked perfect no matter what she wore. You adore that about her, of course! But it did make getting yourself ready rather stressful. Every time you got dressed to see her, you’d always ask yourself how you’re so lucky. Before you got together, you’d been friends for a good while, and eventually, it evolved into more. You were both happier this way, and you knew she did care deeply for you. Still, you needed to find the perfect outfit for this outing, and the one you were wearing just wouldn’t cut it. This would be what you both classified as your first date, it was a big deal and you felt you needed to look your best.

You really had the best luck, huh? Right as you were about to change, the doorbell rang. Teruhashi was here already! This outfit would have to do. Running over to the door after quickly checking everything over, you opened it to see Teruhashi standing there, a polite smile adorned on her face.

Oh wow. She's stunning. Even more so than usual, she just looked perfect. Feeling your nerves come back even stronger, you tried your best to match her smile, greeting her, to which she excitedly echoed the greeting. It was time to go shopping, and you would just have to see how this works out.

On the way there, you both managed to make small talk. Whether it be talking about each other’s day or small things, like how nice it was that school was out for a bit. Nevertheless, this part was nice. There was little to no public pressure, save for the occasional stare from some random person, but that was something that you’d gotten used to by now. Once closer to the mall, you became quiet. It would be busy today, a lot of people would see you. You still believed your social status was so far from Teruhashi’s, and she would be embarrassed to be seen in public with you. You continued to make your way to the mall, despite being lost in thought. You managed to hide your doubts from Teruhashi for the time being.

The first shop you entered was a clothing shop. Despite it being generic, you and Teruhashi had a great time picking clothes for each other to try, whether they be purposefully horrendous or genuinely good-looking clothing. Both of you walked out with something new, but nothing that you had picked for yourselves, choosing to favour the clothes the other had picked out. It was a wonderful time, and that continued for a few more clothes stores, both of you giggling and smiling the whole time. You’d also visited some book stores, browsing various selections and enjoying each other's company (albeit, a bit quieter now). You held hands as you browsed some novels with Teruhashi, trying to find something you could read together on a future date.

Your worries had been long forgotten until you walked through the doors of the shop you dreaded the most. It was summer, so it only made sense she’d want to visit a shop like this. A swim shop. You hesitated to enter the door, and the change in your personality was almost immediate. You became more reserved, knowing Teruhashi would outshine you here no matter what you did. 

“Y/N?” Teruhashi turned towards you, grabbing your hand, “Is everything alright? You’ve gone quiet…”

Of course, she’d notice, this is Teruhashi, the most wonderfully observant person you know. She’s always worried more about the people around her rather than herself. 

“Sorry,” you apologized, “I’m fine, though.” Well, that wasn’t very convincing. It was hard to lie to her, and the rush of nervousness and doubt didn’t make it any easier. Teruhashi looked at you in the eyes, you’d never seen her so unimpressed. 

“I know you’re lying. Let’s go out to that bench. Please tell me what’s wrong.” She pulled you out of the swim shop, to the bench she’d pointed out earlier. She sat down and looked at you with the most serious expression she could muster. She was genuinely concerned, that much you could sense. It was easy to see in her eyes how much she cared, and you knew there was no way she’d give up on this.

Looks like you had no choice but to tell her, She’s worried about you, and there was no resisting that. Once Teruhashi got her mind set on something, she always saw it through to the end. And you being upset on your first date? She cared about you far too much to watch it any more. She wanted to help you feel better, more than she’s ever wanted to help anyone before.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.” She gave you a reassuring smile, holding one of your hands in both of hers as if to tell you that it’s going to be alright and she would be there to help you through this. With a sigh, you explained your feelings of inferiority, how you knew she could do better, and how you felt you would only ever hold her back. Her smile never wavered. It wasn’t happy, no, it stayed reassuring and supportive, communicating she had listened attentively to all of what you said.

“Y/N..” She trailed off. For once in Teruhashi’s life, she had no idea how to reply. How was she to tell you just how much you mean to her? How she thinks you might very well be the most beautiful girl in the world. You were everything she wanted in a person. Supportive, understanding, caring, and someone who’s able to see her as more than just a pretty face. She leaned in a bit closer, hugging you briefly before deciding on what to say.

“Thank you for telling me. I want you to know that I really don’t see you that way, and even if I know I can’t change how you see yourself, I want you to trust me when I say there is nobody else I want to be with. You’re so perfect for me, and I could never be happier with another girl in my life. I’ve had an amazing time with you, and you are so so much more than you think you are. I know I can’t fix it, but please let me support you and help you feel better for the time being.” 

By the end of her little speech, you both had tears in your eyes. You’d never cried in front of her, but this time you couldn’t help it. She hugged you again as those tears fell, rubbing your back to comfort you until you felt better. 

Once you calmed down, you offered to go back into the swim shop, if Teruhashi didn’t mind. You wanted a second try to have fun with your girlfriend. That’s right. Girlfriend. The word hit you harder than it had before, she picked you and it really wasn’t a joke. You smiled next to her, walking back into the swim shop.

“Hey, Teruhashi-” You were interrupted by her before you could finish. 

“Call me Kokomi.” To that, you just about screamed. Your smile widened greatly (and in her head, Teruhashi had a mini-meltdown and how cute you are).

“Okay. Kokomi, do you want to get matching swimsuits?”

She clapped her hands together, practically jumping in excitement. “I do!”

Hurrying further into the store, you both searched the walls of swimsuits and accessories until you landed on a swimsuit that was just perfect. You showed it to Teruhashi, who thought it was the perfect one too. Buying them, along with some shoes and sunglasses that Teruhashi picked out, you headed out of the store. It was getting late anyway.

You would both say today’s date had been a success. Feeling closer to your girlfriend, and getting the reassurance that you had no idea how badly you needed, you felt a lot better than you had this morning. You would never know how nervous Teruhashi had been this morning, either. Maybe someday she’d be brave enough to tell you how you made her heart stop and managed to make everyone else disappear. You’re really something special to her. You dropped her off at her house, placing a goodbye kiss on her cheek, never having seen her face so red. She promptly did the same, thanking you for such a wonderful day, and telling you how she hopes you two can do something together again soon.

And who knows, maybe you guys would have to go to the beach sometime soon. Those swimsuits need use, right? No matter what you did, as long as it was together, you and Teruhashi would be able to rock this world. With her, you knew you could do anything.

[ourladylennon]

this is a stress rant and also I absolutely have to get these thoughts out of my head and onto something so that I can understand how I'm feeling. so pardon me.

I have some very mixed feelings about my latest tattoo experience and it has been incredibly, astoundingly stressful. For anyone who was interested in how it went.

and after typing out this whole rant and reading it back my advice is: ALWAYS make sure it is exactly what you want. ALWAYS speak up if you don’t.

I have a specific style, as everyone, but the style of tattoo I have is a bit of a niche that can be hard to find: geometric design with dotwork/pointillism/stippling techniques to create shading rather then standard fill in shading. This shading style is incredibly time consuming and taxing for the artist and I've had a lot of trouble finding people who specialize in this (and within my area).

I started with an artist about 3 years ago, whom was new to me but known to be good. Got my appt set up, he drew me an entire sleeve- it was absolutely gorgeous. Went through two sessions and his work is genuinely amazing. Clean. Precise. Detailed. Unique. I didn't vibe with him too great but it was something I kind of put aside. But without explaining the whole fucking mess that became, just know that our artist-client relationship fell through. This left me with only the beginning of my tattoo. The whole ordeal was really stressful and upsetting so I put down the goal of getting it finished to try and recoup. And I just continually hit roadblocks trying to find artists who are good at dotwork and willing to do it. Often times they live in other cities/states/etc. Obviously this involves meeting a new artist, trying to figure out if it's a good fit, driving out for consultations/redoing all that process- s t r e s s. Now with covid, it's even more difficult because almost every artist I've come across that I've considered has closed books. All of them being out of town which is fine because it would be worth it. It's expected.

But after three years of this go around of trying to find someone, I was getting really put out by the process and just wanting to get this thing going. (Mistake #1- or #2 technically cause fucking up w the first artist is where it all started and I do regret it to this day).

A new shop opened IN my town- a miracle!!! I started following an artist whose work I found to be particularly amazing. Clean lines, clean shading, artistic seeming. Didn't see any pointillism, but I just like kept seeing her work and thinking damn that's good. So I decided to reach out and told her this is what I'm looking for, a dotwork sleeve and here are some examples of the style I like. I specifically mentioned this and asked if they'd be interested in working on it because I know that dotwork is not everyone's thing. The artist replied and said they've been wanting to get into and would like to do that (we'll call this mistake #3. Do not assume the artist, even if very good at other things will be good at all things. Do not go to an artist wanting a specific style without having seen their work for THAT style).

At this point I sent over pictures of my current tattoo that we'd be adding onto for reference. In my mind this is what I thought would mean: "I am looking at what you have to see how to incorporate it into a new sleeve design and see how I can create a collaborative piece and mesh the two together." (Mistake #4: that was not the case. Do not assume. Anything. Ever.)

The appt date was relatively quick despite the fact that I figured she'd be booked out for quite some time (red flag #1: not because she wasn't busy. But because this was not a whole lot of time to come up with a design but I figured "Well she knows her capabilities better than I do and she wouldn't suggest it that soon if she weren't sure). In my previous experiences, the artist will send you a proof or have a separate appt to review the design. I never received an email with said design (red flag #2, in my personal opinion. But I thought I was just being...extra? Also just thought, okay I'll see it at the appt and it will be OK, right? <- mistake #5).

I show up, there is no sleeve design. (RED FLAG #3) There are two single mandala tattoos. Outlines only. No shading. I'd also like to say my style is much more geometric fractals than it is mandala. A lot of people find these interchangeable but...they're really much different. (RED. FLAG. #4). I genuinely did not see that coming. Maybe I'm wrong to say, but this was negligent in my opinion and experience. A sleeve design ensures that your finished piece flows, that it works together, you can see the whole picture, modify, etc. Especially with it being an addition to my existing work. Cannot stress how much of a red flag.

I'm wigging out at this point. I don't love them but I want this tattoo. I'm going back and forth thinking, "maybe it's just because the shading isn't filled in I can't picture it." (MISTAKE #6: trust your gut!!!). I tell her OK well I like this about this one and that about that one. She only nods and listens, where I was expecting feedback; perhaps an "OK well we can draw it on" or "I can rework it" etc. She didn't and I am too paralyzed to speak up. (Red flag #4)

Mistake #7: I accept it at this point. I pick between the two. She has to go resize it. I'm having a literal internal freak out and battle. I am someone who DOES NOT know how to speak up for themselves. In any way. EVER. For any reason. At any time. I am a fear based individual, in fact, I am nearly certain I have APD (avoidant personality disorder) and it effects me severely and deeply. To the point that simply speaking to someone can be hard for me.

But my brain was screaming you cannot do this! You aren't sure! This is for life! It's your body!! You HAVE to say something! (RED fucking alert)

She came back with the one design resized and my heart is thumping, my chest is constricting, the throat feels like it's closing. I make myself say it. I tell her I don't think this is what I'm looking for. I literally almost busted into tears trying to say it because I was so fucking terrified and overwhelmed. I've never been in a position where I genuinely wasn't sure whether I liked what I was looking at. She says you don't need to be sorry you should speak up this is your body. So immediately, I lost a lot of tension because of her kindness. I thought she would be angry or rude or upset, just because I'm fearful. She proceeded to kind of go in and shade in with a pencil on the stencil to give me a better idea and apologized that she should have had that prepared. I continue asking questions to assuage my concerns and feel....better....ish. she offers to redraw and reschedule but I went against my gut, gave into my desperacy to continue my sleeve, dismissed my feelings as being just my typical overexertion of fear and did something I NEVER do: turn my back on my instincts. (Mistake. Mistake #8)

She was pleasant and I genuinely enjoyed her, felt comfortable with her which is not something I can say about previous artists and that's a good chunk of why I decided to continue. I liked her, I liked her other work I've seen, I just thought that once the stippling was in that I'd see it was really nice. However, I am laying there and I'm like I do not feel poking, which is literally how dotwork is done. Dot by dot. I'd feel her do the tiniest bit of dot-dot-dot and I'm like OK OK I'm just not paying full attention and missing it. But then I'd hear and feel her shading- standard shading. I'm like why is she using a shading tip? I'm just confused honestly. I'm like I have no idea what the could be for, just assume it's necessary for something I didn't realize. But I can see because I'm laying and my arms at a weird angle.

I finally get a peek while she's pausing and its....not dotwork. It's not dotwork at all, in fact. It's too late at this point in my eyes. It was only partially done but what am I gonna do? Stop her in the middle and have an unfinished tattoo? And then what? (Try to) go to someone else to have them do dotwork and have a half unmatching tattoo? There was nothing I could do. So I resigned and accepted this as the consequences of my actions and ill choices. And that's honestly been the hardest part to deal with: I let this happen to myself because I could not speak up. The only person who could have stopped this was ME. And I could not do it. That's how deeply my issues of fear run. And that is terrifying, pathetic, sad.

I'm not saying I got the world's ugliest tattoo. It's okay. Just okay. In the words of RuPaul, meh. I don't want meh. I want astounding. And I didn't do what I needed to to make that happen or not happen.

I just have been in awe over the fact that I asked for dotwork and the artist expressed no concern over this, literally had my existing tattoo right above where they were working and continued to not emulate that style of shading at all. Most of this is my fault, 90% of it. But there was negligence on the artists side and I genuinely don't think they meant it to be. I just don't think they had enough experience, but they too should have spoke up if they didn't feel they could carry it out. They gave me no inclination that they could not or would not be doing dotwork. At any point. And I do feel upset that I don't think they put in the effort or care to work off my existing tattoo in their design, and in looking back, their design also does not look nearly anything like the designs I gave for example. It was my job to walk away and request a redesign or to cancel and I didn't. So in the end this is on me. And it has been very taxing on my mental state.

To end this shit show: the tattoo I just got costed half of what my first one did, while only having taking the fraction of time as my first and being less then half the size of my first. It is not nearly as clean, it certainly reflects their level of experience. The shop environment was not fantastic: it felt a bit like as if I had walked into a chain restaurant...but a tattoo shop. There were no private rooms, there were no tattoo chairs. They were literal stools and that's not...not professional or normal. And I chose to continue.

I'm faced with some really tough decisions moving forward. I am at least thankful it is relatively small ish and wraps towards my inner arm which makes it less visible. But I'm at a crossroads of whether I go through the whole mess of trying to find a FOURTH artist to try and finish my sleeve the way it was meant to be finished (dotwork, whole sleeve design etc) and make the best of it at the risk of having a fucking patchwork arm. Or I continue to work with this artist and see the design through myself (literally design it myself which I didn't want to do but it doesn't appear that I should leave this to them), so that at least the remainder of my arm is consistent shading and work.

And because I've made it sound like the tattoo is atrocious, be assured it's not trash by any means. It's just not what I wanted. Big sis learned a big lesson.

(the immediate center is bothering me the most. But I think it can be altered. Nonetheless. The skill/experience level shows, unfortunately. And you can certainly see the difference between the stipple shading on my first tattoo and the regular shading on the new one.)

I am trying to be positive and that's all I can do. I accept the results and I think it can be fixed to a certain extent, and I can only hope as I move forward that I make the right decision and that the end product is something I enjoy.

[mysewingadventures]

Making Anne’s Green Dress from Anne With An E - Part 5 (final)

First of all, before I start to talk about the dress I would like to say thank you to all of you who are following this blog. I just saw that I hit a thousand (a whole thousand!!) followers and I am soo excited and glad that there are people out there who share the same passion as me or just find it interesting! When I made this blog back in March or April I honestly expected to be shouting (or writing) into the void but it’s been so amazing to actually have the feeling to have something interesting to tell. So, the biggest thank you to all of you!!

Now, before I get too sappy, let’s move on to the dress.

I left off still not having finished the sleeves and having to finish all the seams. I thought it wasn’t going to be a lot of work, but I tend to severely underestimate the final parts of my projects.

So, first things first, I tried to attach the embroidered part of the sleeve to the upper puffy part and it took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out why it wasn’t working and what I was doing wrong. So the thing is, the circumference of the embroidered sleeve is smaller than the puffy sleeve, which I did on purpose to add some nice pleats to the stiped fabric. But I couldn’t get the exact measurment right while the sleeve was round, so I needed to reopen almost an entire seam so I could make the striped sleeve lie flat in order to add some pleats so I could then put the embroidered sleeve on top and attach them. Then I could close that opened seam back up and I was left with the top part finished and the bottom part opened because I was going to add hooks and eyes to close it later (spoiler: I ended up just stitching it shut in the end). Then I attached the embroidered collar; I tried machine stitching it first but because I wanted a very small seam at the bottom some of the fabric from the dress must’ve slipped away and it made a mess so I ended up doing it by hand.

Then it was time for the back seams and the buttons! For the back seams I just folded the edge in once and I plan on cleaning that seam up at some point in the future but for now I just needed a clean edge to work with. Then I did the front buttons. I had some small buttons left over from a skirt I made once so instead of buying ones that you can and are actually supposed to cover in fabric I decided to cover regular buttons in fabric. It worked to some degree but I really think I’m going to have to order some different buttons and redo it because now that I’ve tried it on and put it on the mannequin it feels like the fabric is gonna come off anythime soon. But I’m still going to show you how I did it.

First, I just attached the button as normal onto the dress. Then I took a piece of fabric that I wanted to cover the button with and drew a circle that was bigger than the button. I don’t know how much bigger, I totally eyeballed that, but it has to cover the entire button so I’m guessing double the size? Anyways, I stitched around the circle and then cut it out around the stitching. Then I put it over the button and pulled the thread. I also put some more thread around underneath the button to make sure the fabric stays in place and doesn’t fray. I did this with the thickest thread I had because you have to pull it rather tightly so I had to make sure the thread could withstand that pulling without breaking.

Then I did the same thing in the back and added some button holes with the machine.

Now I only had to close the rest of the sleeves and add another seam to the bottom of the dress so it looks like it’s made out of two pieces of fabric. As I already mentioned, I ended up sewing the sleeve together instead of adding hooks and eyes simply because, to be completely honest, I hate sewing hooks and eyes and I also couldn’t imagine it staying closed throughout the day when you’d wear it. I think Anne’s dress had hooks and eyes, if I’m not completely mistaken it was visible in a closeup but I just opted for the "easy way out", which, ironically enough, took me about an hour on each side as it was so difficult to sew from inside of the sleeve without catching any other piece of fabric in between. But this is the result which in real life is even less visible as the color of the thread matches the fabric pretty well.

And lastly, I had to sew the final bottom seam. I just folded a bit of fabric over and machine stitched on top of that.

And this is the result of the finished dress-

It’s been very challenging this time, but I’ve also learned not to ignore lining and the importance of beautiful, neat seams on the inside! (The inside is a complete disaster, hence why I’m not posting pictures of it). But overall it looks really nice, I’ve been a little self-critical about it but I think it turned out okay in the end. It’s just frustrating that I decided not to line the skirt and now I’m regretting it because it’s just laying so flat! I think I might make a petticoat for it. It would’ve been worn under that dress anyways. But in all honesty, I think that with every project I get a little bit better because I make all those mistakes. Now I know that I should always line my fabrics no matter how lazy I’m feeling or that I should leave enough seam allowance to fell my seams.

Some projects are more challenging than others but maybe those are the ones that I can learn the most from.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[cerseiwondered]

Number 33 plssss

I think I received this prompt over a month ago, and I’m SORRY.

So, this story is set on the same universe as this one, only six months before. So it’s like a prequel. And it follows the same women football rivalry vibes.

Prompt: “An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.”

-

“Smile!”

Sansa smiled for what it felt like the thousandth time, carefully holding her trophy so it would be visible on the picture in a way that it didn’t seem like she was trying to make it visible.

“Nice. Congrats, girls!”, the photographer said, before raising his camera again and going after Sarella Sand, who had won one of the midfielder positions of the Team of the Season.

Sansa turned to her teammates, Wylla and Brienne. The three of them had been chosen as a part of the CONWEBOL -  Westeros and Essos Football Confederation -  2019 Team of the Season, making their club, Stone Hedge United, the one with the biggest number of players on the squad.

Which was pretty cool, especially because the Athletic Club of Hill Horn had been the winner of the Women’s Conquers League, the world’s greatest club competition. Yet, on the TOTS, Sansa had been chosen as the best right-back, Wylla as the best striker, and Brienne as the best goalkeeper.

“Oh, look at her,” Wylla shook her head slightly, green hair catching the light with the movement, as she focused somewhere behind Sansa.

And the redhead spun around solely to see the grinning face of Margaery Tyrell.

Margaery, who was wearing a glorious blue dress, just a bit tight on the torso and loosely falling on the floor, with her entire arms bare and an unbelievable plunging neckline. She smiled to a camera, holding her Team of the Season left-winger trophy with one hand and her Couronne d’Or, the golden crown awarded to the Best Player of the Season, with the other.

“Notice how she’s holding the crown a bit higher than the squad trophy,” Wylla noted, and Sansa chuckled.

“Who can blame her? It’s the greatest honor a player can be given,” Brienne argued.

“Yeah,” Sansa sighed, taking in the shine of the enormous piece of jewelry in Margaery’s hand.

They were all at the CONWEBOL The Best Awards, the annual event that took place every October, in King’s Landing. The Couronne d’Or was the most coveted trophy, and that year Margaery had won it for the third time, more than any active player.

Which irritated her, because Margaery defended Raventree’s City, Stone Hedge’s biggest rival, yes - but also because it just meant a whole new year of Margaery’s poorly concealed arrogant attitude and superior little smirk, and those annoyed Sansa more than anything else.

Especially when that smile was directed at Sansa herself; and Margaery really enjoyed smiling like that at Sansa when they met before matches. And talk to her, always with the same ironic gaze and that smirk that made Sansa feel like she was being furtively laughed at.

Sansa just couldn’t quite understand why Margaery liked to provoke her so much. Yes, they played for rival clubs, but it wasn’t like Sansa was Margaery’s biggest opponent when it came to awards; they didn’t play in the same position, and Wylla was Stone Hedge’s main woman, therefore the one who could challenge Margaery when it came to the Couronne d’Or.

“Look, there is Coach Mormont!”, Wylla exclaimed, driving Sansa’s eyes away from the other woman. “Let’s go talk to her.”

They did, and Sansa quickly forgot all about conceited brunettes and overestimated individual awards as the party went on. It was always one of Sansa’s favorite events of the year; meeting all of her current and former teammates and coaches, getting a chance to talk to players from other clubs that she usually just got to interact with on the field; seeing all those women she would normally see on dirty uniforms wearing those spectacular gowns.

And there were cameras everywhere, and the food was amazing, and the champagne… The champagne was one of a kind, and when Sansa drank one glass a little bit too fast she decided it was perhaps time for her to go to the restroom and take a deep breath.

But she was just the tiniest bit tipsy, hardly enough to let her display her displeasure when she opened the restroom’s door and found Margaery, leaning against the counter and redoing her makeup.

Before facing Sansa with the largest smile, “Hey! I was waiting for an opportunity to talk to you.”

“Why?”

Margaery’s smile turned into the smirk Sansa loathed so much, “To tell you my crown was not the most shining thing in the party tonight.”

Now Sansa did roll her eyes, even as she felt a blush creeping up her neck. She was wearing a tight, long-sleeved silver gown that stopped mid-thigh. Her neckline was not nearly as impressive as Margaery’s, though.

“Thank you. You look nice as well,” she answered through an almost uninterested tone.

Margaery gave a small smile as she lowered her eyes, and for a fraction of a moment, Sansa felt bad for giving her a perhaps indifferent response - before reminding herself that that was Margaery Tyrell, her club rival and someone she and all of her teammates had learned to dislike very much.

Until, “Congrats on your awards tonight.”

Margaery said it so naturally, as she put some lipstick on.

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “I only won one award.”

“Oh, right,” Margaery pressed her lips together. Her lipstick was matte colored, and it looked nice.

“Perhaps when you said awards, plural,” Sansa, better yet, the champagne started, “You were thinking about the multiple awards my team won. You know, the club with the most players on the squad of the season.”

If she knew that would result in Margaery smirking all over again, perhaps Sansa wouldn’t have said it.

“And I was very happy for all of you,” Margaery lied. “I’m so happy your club managed that when it still had the chance.”

Again, the words left her mouth like they were the most ordinary thing to say.

But they weren’t.

“What do you mean?”

Margaery shrugged, “Well, you know. Now that the VAR, the video assistant referee,” she explained it as if there was any chance Sansa wouldn’t know what VAR meant, “Will be officially used in all of our competitions next season… Forget I said anything.”

She averted her gaze back to the mirror, but Sansa pulled her by the arm, and she stared back at the redhead with wide and, Gods dammit, amused eyes.

“Are you possibly implying that my club is benefited by the refereeing?”, Sansa laughed.

“It’s not me, darling,” Margaery shook her head with a falsely innocent look on her face. “It’s the statistics. If it weren’t for refereeing mistakes, your club would’ve finished the league with nine fewer points.”

“And how many points would your club have lost if it weren’t for your diving? You are the biggest diver in the league.”

“I’m the most hunted player in the league, you mean.”

“Too bad I cannot say the same about last chances of winning anything,” Sansa shot to her. “You’ve probably already won the next Couronne d’Or too. Considering you no longer have to do anything win it.”

Margaery’s eyes now widened with her not expecting those words, and Sansa liked it.

“Considering you got it this year without winning the national or the Conquers league, consequently, not winning anything important.”

Margaery blinked. “I literally scored fifty-one goals this season.”

“A true champion,” Sansa scooted closer, feeling the scent of Margaery’s luxurious perfume, almost closing her eyes with it, “Takes their clubs to the top. They don’t just break goal records against farmer clubs and call it a day.”

Deep down, Sansa knew she was wrong; Margaery was the best, most skillful and creative player in the world, and she deserved the recognition she got. Still, the look on her face at that moment was priceless and Sansa would not let it go.

“Eleanor Mooton,” Athletic Club of Hill Horn’s right-winger, “Should’ve won your trophy. You know that full well.”

Margaery twitched her jaw, and her voice was controlled, “Are you saying all of this because you are aware that you will never win a Couronne d’Or while I play and you hate the thought of it?”

Sansa gave a smirk of her own. “I’m a defender. I will never see the face of a Couronne d’Or, I’ve always known that.”

That was no surprise; the only players who were considered Best Players of the Season were forwards or midfielders.

“You can see the face of it,” Margaery’s voice was husky and Sansa’s ears perked without her perceiving why. “You can see the face of three of them,”

She stepped forward and Gods, they were close and Sansa hadn’t realized it.

“In my shelf. In my bedroom.”

And then it was Sansa’s turn to blink. “What?”

Margaery closed the remaining distance, her hands grabbing Sansa’s jaw and yanking her in.

Their lips touched, and Sansa was shocked. Margaery’s fingers slid from Sansa’s face to her hair, nails stroking her scalp, and Sansa shivered with the feeling of it.

Her mouth tasted so good, like champagne and something sweet, and she sucked on Sansa’s lips, leading Sansa to shut her eyes. Her tongue tried and invaded Sansa’s mouth, stroking Sansa’s own tongue, outlining her lips, and she pulled the redhead’s bottom lip between her teeth and-

It was over.

Before Sansa could do anything, touch Margaery, kiss her back properly, it was all over.

All there was left was that stupid smirk and Margaery’s flushed cheeks.

They jumped away from one another when the door was opened.

“Hey, we were looking for the two of you,” it was Irri, a Dothraki woman who played for the Dragonstone Football Club and who had won one of the centre-back spots of the Team of the Season. “They are taking pictures of the squad.”

Margaery only smiled before leaving the restroom, cleaning her lips with a paper towel and indicating Sansa to do the same, and the redhead followed her weakly.

She felt almost numb when she positioned herself among the other players. And every single nerve of her body responded when Margaery, who was right next to her, whispered in her ear,

“My real bedroom, with my trophies, is a bit far away. But my hotel suite isn’t.”

Sansa gulped.

And the cameraman shouted, “Smile!”

[pastelpastilles]

𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

Oh, you thought my last retrospective was the end?

I can finally talk talk talk again, which is a beautiful and freeing feeling. These are sort of scattered, lost thoughts, because I just wanted to summarize the last 3 generations and some of the Process(tm) behind everything.

General Story Thoughts

Vampires really have been part of the story since the beginning. I really presented berry simblr with this weird, sorta spooky family with bat ears and fangs and tried passing them off as totally normal folks. Somehow, that worked? Dreams do come true.

Originally, Luna was going to live in Forgotten Hollow, but I changed that very last minute. Like, right after I started playing.

The vampires were actually supposed to come to the forefront in Gen 2--Verity Vine was supposed to “sense” them right after her first date with Ries (there’s a scene of her glancing behind her as they leave that clearing, the vampires were actually there!) I pushed them back to Gen 3 and I’m glad I did! I was able to create all the Forgotten Founder lore.

I actually feel pretty good about this as a “first draft.” I know what things I would change now, what should be tightened up.... Even from the first attempt at a reboot.

Now that you know about the vampires, I can explain more about how heirs are chosen... It’s the bat ears. If a child has bat ears, I generally roll to see if they have fangs.

In addition to bat ears and fangs, heirs usually do have some supernatural talent, one that might not be obvious at first. It may or may not come up in the future, but for reference...

Verity Vine is a natural dreamwalker, which we have known since the beginning.

Kabinett was seeing glimpses into the future, guys. He was having prophetic dreams the whole time. That’s why I kept insisting he wasn’t dreamwalking.

Had Maddy been Turned, she would have very much been a Succubus... Her talent is literally being desirable.

Generation 3 Thoughts

From the moment I knew I was doing “double heirs,” I knew Kabi was going to die. Really. It made it very... strange, to finally reach that point, in story, when I had already made my mental peace with it years ago.

The biggest changes were OJ’s path, and Maddy’s final form. Maddy was supposed to lose her memories, and would be forever trying to figure out what happened that night (which is sad)! 

Obviously, the biggest inspirations for Gen 3 were 80s movies and Stranger Things, as well as... Frozen! Elsa & Anna were lowkey inspirations for Kabi and Maddy, and I remember once saying that Kabi’s love story was “more Frozen and less romantic.” 

I think, if I do redo gen 3, I would make that clearer--I think at the end of the day, Kabi and OJ both sort of confused their “I love you but more than a friend” feelings. Kabi’s greatest concern was really always that OJ wouldn’t be part of his family.

Epilogue Specific Thoughts

Each epilogue was a scene I wanted to include when I was planning on a much, much longer (but different) storyline.

Kabinett’s first reveal was always going to be to Luna, after she and Maddy returned from their trip. I cut the events of their trip, though. They aren’t that important to Maddy’s arc, really. That became the first epilogue.

Sage was always going to stick around and be Maddy’s rock, so once I decided Maddy was going the vampire hunter route, I knew Sage needed to be the Willow she was always meant to be. Thus, her epilogue.

The third epilogue was actually just going to be an edit. I wanted to give The Sauce and the Murder Barn a proper send off, and originally it was to Chainsaw by Nick Jonas... And then Taylor dropped folklore and we got exile featuring the Sauce’s Demons.

This is not what his original end was--for a really long time, he was Maddy’s end game. I was pretty committed to it, and what happened was... I was driving home one day, trying to figure out reboot shit, and I just.... knew it was Ojaddy. It had to be them in the end. This was like, last year-ish. I actually stopped driving and messaged Sam like “I WAS WRONG, OJADDY IS THE END GAME” which was pretty out of the blue, ngl.

The fourth epilogue being Veriling was because I was intending on a longer, ongoing arc for Veri dealing with depression/child loss. It got condensed into that awful, sad scene that I love.

OJ’s epilogue was a VERY early scene I wrote, back when he was supposed to leave PB Bay for years and years and years and come back when Maddy was like. 30. Yeah, Kabi was always going to come back and be like “You need to let me go, bud. Please. Date my sister, carry on my family line.”

And of course... Maddy Moon. Once I knew Maddy wasn’t losing her memories of that night, that she was going to go for vampires, I knew I needed her to dust Azura. That last line of hers was what the whole thing was built around lmao

There was actually a bigger scene where she drew the Orange vampire in by flirting, and then OJ arrived and Maddy broke character bc that’s my husband fiance!

But I really wanted to finish this so... We got a rushed, condensed scene.

Reboot...?

Anyway, let’s consider those two up above. It’s kinda weird that I ended on a cliffhanger, where the heirs are on opposite sides of something Big, right? And Maddy just not knowing Kabi’s still technically alive... 

So like. About that:

The spares pretty much disappeared once I called Gen 3 done. In the reboot-version of the story (Lunacy), I cut out a LOT of Veriling’s kids.... Like I halved the amount.

I was purposefully very vague about tagging Kabi’s vampire moodboard as Kabinett Puck. That’s because I’ve been considering Veri taking Ries’ last name in the reboot, and most of my notes refer to him as Kabi Puck.

I also introduced several things that you’d think I would expand on in the epilogues, right? Luna’s gift to OJ, Maddy the Vampire Slayer... Like, there’s a lot to sink your teeth into there!

So... As we hit the epilogues, the timelines of the “reboot” and the “original draft” sort of... merged in my mind. And I really... really... want to keep exploring this world, and finishing Gen 3 off actually helped me decide certain things I would rather do with Lunacy Gen 1. 

This is a very confusing way of trying to explain that... I’m not canceling the reboot, but we are continuing... with Gen 4. Probably soon! I want to play with Ojaddy a bit, because they deserve a bit of a break, and you’ll start seeing Slice of Life stuff on my main soon.

In the meantime, coming up on this blog, I have a fun little project staring Sage that I can’t WAIT to start posting! And eventually... We’ll move back to @simmancy. Not just with my hell project (the Masquerade AU), but also with actual... bpr... content. So if you like these characters... Good news! They’re going Into the New World! And if you don’t like them, well... I think their kids are pretty cool, so. There’s that.

As always... Again, and again, thank you for reading! See you on the otherside!

- Kit

[yourdeepestfathoms]

They Will Certainly See More

  “What do you mean Seymour isn’t here?!”

The stage manager’s eyes were wide and bulging in their sockets from her smoldering gaze. The queens couldn’t help but shy away slightly- all the crew members had an aura that nobody wanted to cross when worked up. 

  “She was sick,” Aragon explained. 

  “You couldn’t think to tell me this BEFORE the show was about to start?!” The stage manager snapped. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Are any of the alts here? Tell them to throw on some makeup and do their hair, they’re going on.”

  “Umm...no.” 

  “What?” The stage manager’s eyes snapped open to stare at Cathy.

  “None of them are here.”

  “WHAT?!”

The stage manager began to work herself up to a proper fit, barking and squawking at the queens and just about anyone who crossed her path like a jungle bird that just had its territory approached by a rivaling avian. She might have tore strips off the cast the entire time if it wasn’t for Anne suddenly piping up.

  “Wait!! What about Joan?”

That made the stage manager shut up. She snapped her mouth shut and blinked before all eyes turned over to the nearby music director, who, up until that point, was peacefully eating a yogurt cup.

  “What?” Joan said with the spoon still in her mouth.

  “That’s perfect!” The stage manager exclaimed. “Joan! Go get your makeup and hair done!”

  “My makeup and hair is already done?” Joan said. She was always ready an hour before the performance starts. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re performing as Jane,” The stage manager said. “Aragon, Parr, go help her into costume!”

  “Wait- What?!” Joan yelped, finally understanding. “I-I can’t- I-” But she was already being herded off into Jane’s dressing room.

The process of redoing her makeup and hair was hellish- there was a lot of tugging and pulling and painful brushing that scraped her scalp raw. She had to get an all new layer of makeup so she wouldn’t look washed out onstage and wouldn’t sweat it all off. Because she was sweating. A lot.

  “God, you’re soaked,” Cathy laughed slightly, combing back Joan’s hair.

  “Mm-hmm,” Joan merely replied. She was stiff in the chair, spine straightened in perfect posture for the first time in her life. Her hands clenched and unclenched anxiously in her lap. “G-guys, I--”

  “I got the costume,” Aragon cut her off, taking Jane’s dress off the rack. 

Joan actually gaped at it- were they really expecting her to wear that?!

  “Guys--”

  “Come on, stand up, Joan,” Aragon urged. “Let’s get this on you.”

  “Guys!” Joan finally spoke up. Her voice had raised a few pitches. “I-I don’t think I can do this…”

  “Of course you can!" Cathy said as she pulled her out of the chair. She and Aragon were being weirdly nice; usually they just ignored the music director unless they needed her for something. Joan guessed it was because they were in a rush and thought that being kind would get Joan to cooperate (which kinda worked).

  “You know the show by heart. There's no way you can screw it all up." Aragon smiled gently as she set the costume on the back of the chair. "We'll be outside whilst you change, call us when you're ready.”

And with that, Joan was alone in the dressing room.

Standing in Jane's dressing room with the woman was one thing, but when she was alone everything felt wrong. Joan felt like she was invading Jane's personal space. She knew it was stupid, Jane wasn't here. Jane was at home, sick.

Deciding to not dwell on it any longer, Joan quickly changed into the costume. The first thing she noticed about the dress was that it was heavy, much heavier than she had imagined. The second thing she noticed was that it didn't fit her at all. Instead of looking like it was tailored to her body, it simply hung from her shoulders, and she didn’t even want to THINK about how saggy it was around her smaller chest. She was practically drowning in the fabric, and Joan wondered if she could just wear her band costume and claim it as an emergency alternate costume, but then the five minute call blasted through the speaker.

Cathy and Aragon burst through the door, stumbling over each other as they tumbled into the room.

  “Come on Joan, the show is starting soon and we still need to have a mic check." Cathy said, giving Joan a quick glance. "You can't go on stage looking like that." Frantically, she and Aragon searched Jane's room for safety pins.

An announcement played over the speaker, saying the show was delayed for another ten minutes. Guilt started to consume Joan as she stood in the middle of Jane's dressing room. She must look rather pathetic, standing there in a dress too big and her face caked in makeup.

Suddenly, there’s hands cupping her cheeks and she flinches in surprise. Aragon is standing in front of her, holding her face while Cathy finished with the last of the pins. The golden queen tapped Joan’s cheek with a finger and Joan stopped trying to avoid her eyes like a dog that was caught drinking out of the toilet bowl, instead slowly meeting her patient gaze.

This was the first time Aragon had ever been affectionate or gentle with Joan. And Joan relished it.

  “You’re going to be okay.” Aragon told her. Her voice was smooth and warm, coiling up Joan’s neck and slithering right into her ears. It numbs her anxiety. 

  “B-but what if I--”

  “Shh...” Aragon stroked back a loose piece of hair that just didn’t want to stay down. She took a silver bobby-pin from her sleeve and pinned it back herself. “You’ll be just fine, darling. We know you can do this.”

  “B-but I-- OW!!”

  “Sorry!” Cathy called from behind Joan. “Yikes. That’s a lot of pins.” She laughed slightly. “But I’m sure it’s fine. The dress is silver, anyway! Matches the, uhh, color scheme!”

A chunk of ice drove itself into Joan’s stomach. She sets her trembling hands over her unsettled middle and Aragon quickly took them in her own. She squeezed them tightly. Oh how Joan wished she actually cared about her and wasn’t just doing this to get her to cooperate.

  “I can’t,” Joan whispered.

Despite always dreaming of getting to perform and dance and sing, actually having to do it sounded horrible. Perhaps because it was forced onto her and she didn’t have a say at all. It would probably be easier if she had volunteered herself.

Maybe.

  “You have to,” Aragon said. “I’m sorry. But I know you can do this.”

  “Come on,” Cathy said. 

The three of them walked down to the wings, where the other three queens and ladies in waiting were already in place onstage. Cathy and Aragon have to leave Joan, grabbing their mics and getting in their spots. Joan took Jane’s place a few moments after them. Right before the lights go out, she saw Maria, Bessie, Maggie, and even her dep giving her encouraging smiles and thumbs up. She shook her head nervously at them, pleading with her eyes for one of them to drop dead so she didn’t have to do this.

But alas.

Blackout.

A cacophony of anticipated murmurs swelled through the audience as the curtains part ever so slightly so the queens can walk out. They were just barely lit up by soft white lights bleeding dimly from backstage. Fog rolled out like great grey waves.

Then, pitch blackness once again.

She tripped. She knew she tripped or stumbled or something stupid while walking out of the curtains. She tripped or staggered or stepped wrong or something and now they all know she’s not Jane and they’re going to laugh at her and--

Joan couldn’t breathe. Her body was on autopilot as she followed along with the others, trying to walk the way Jane would normally walk (and yet she still messed that up with her slight stumble on her way out of the curtains). She hoped that she looked enough like the woman to fool the audience and keep them happy for at least half of the show before they got tired of seeing her as a fraud, but that was just wishful. They could take one look at her (or her chest) to know that she was not Jane Seymour.

And that scared her. 

She was scared of them booing or leaving just because she wasn’t the queen. Which was entirely stupid of her to worry over because the alts and swings went on all the time and everyone loved them. But her anxiety just wouldn’t register that as true facts. 

She was a fraud. And they were all going to laugh at her.

She really didn’t want to be laughed at...

A deep hum filled the auditorium- the beginning of Ex-Wives was starting. The sound seemed to rattle Joan to her very core as she listened to it. It honestly used to be serene and calming, but now it just filled her with icy cold dread. She wanted to throw up from the intense terror waving over her, but her stomach was in too tight of knots to eject anything at the moment.

  “Divorced.”

A cone of purple light rained down on Aragon. There were the twin beats. 

This whole part revolved a lot on timing, and Joan knew if she didn’t say her line at just the right moment, then she would throw Maria off. And she really didn’t want to embarrass her bandmates, too, so she gathered up as much confidence as she could and prepared herself. 

  “Beheaded.”

The purple light comes down on Anne. The twin beat resounds loudly.

This was her moment. One of her many moments, but a moment no less. She couldn’t fuck it up, not after the way she tripped.

The purple light spills its rays of amethyst over Joan and she takes a deep breath.

  “D-ied.”

The twin drum beat thumps heavily. Joan swore the thunderous pulse was enough to shatter her rapidly beating heart, which just picked up even more speed.

Her voice cracked. Her fucking voice cracked.

She wondered if it was possible to swallow her microphone whole and choke on it so she wouldn’t have to do this...

  “Divorced.”

A cone of light encased Anna. Joan exhaled deeply, no one seemed to notice. Maybe she could pretend to be sick, people have gone on sick before. Joan prayed that they had an alternate ready before Heart of Stone; she didn't know what she would do if she had to sing that song.

  “Beheaded.”

Joan was ready to run, she didn't care about letting the audience down. But then the image of Jane popped into her head, she was frowning, like she was disappointed. Disappointed in Joan. That thought made her stay on stage, rooted in her spot.

  “And tonight, London. We are…”

I can do this, She kept telling herself, hoping it would calm her down.

The pause seemed to last much longer than a few seconds. Her nerves mounted as she waiting. Joan raised the mic to her lips a bit early.

Then suddenly she saw Anne take a breath, meaning it was coming.

  “Live!" Joan's voice was stronger than she thought, an excited grin adorned her face. I got it! She praised herself.

The show flew by in a whirl of flashing lights, humming harmonies, and barely-contained pride. The longer she performed, the more Joan got comfortable with the role of being the third queen. And the audience didn’t even seem to mind! They looked like they really liked her!

It was just amazing. Every inch of her body was tingling in joy, fueled by an adrenaline rush that seemed to be made of liquid gold. She hadn’t been this energetic about anything in a long time. Her limbs would ache the next day, but she didn’t care. She just continued to sing and dance and be genuinely happy.

The MegaSix soon rolled around, meaning the show would be over soon, and Joan found herself slightly sad while she danced along with the queens. She wished she could play this part forever, that she could always be in the spotlight like this. People would praise her name: Joan Meutas, the False Silver Queen. And they would love her, they would want her autograph and ask to take pictures with her and go to brag to their friends about meeting her.

It would be incredible.

Joan was so wrapped up in dancing and fantasizing her own popularity that she didn’t even realize something was wrong until a cold breeze hit her bare belly.

...Bare?

The audience gasped, yelped, shouted, laughed, whistled.

Cameras flashed.

The queens turned to her, frozen, eyes bulging out of their skull, mouths hanging open like their jaws had been unhinged.

Petrified, Joan slowly looked down at her naked body, shielded only by a bra and underwear, and the silver dress around her feet.

[jungle321jungle]

How I Long For Things To Be Restored

When Logan begins going to the old house on the end of Wendon Way, he doesn’t expect to meet the little boy who also frequents there. Nor does he expect to learn the forgotten secrets of the home. 

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @hogwarts-my-love

Ao3 - Masterlist

~~~~

How I Long For Things To Be Restored

The old house on the end of Wendon Way had stood for what felt like eons. Not one in the sleepy town could recall when it had been lived in last- or someone had ever lived there at all. But regardless of the details, it had become an urban legend among all ages. For children it was a place to avoid due to rumors, teenagers were responsible for spreading the rumors to keep kids away from their spot, and some adults didn’t agree with the idea of trespassing and understandably worried about what could be going on, and finally were the adults who had been those teenagers and fueled such worries among their peers. 

There were unofficial customs and rules to the house on the end of Wendon Way, so when Logan had seen the young boy sitting on the back stairs to the home, he had been more than surprised. Kids shied away from the large looming home, they didn’t sit on the deck stairs attempting to pet birds. 

“You shouldn’t try to touch them,” Logan commented as he approached. “They could have a disease even if they don’t bite or something.”

The boy’s eyes didn’t meet his, in fact he didn't seem like he was listening at all. It wasn’t until he had moved closer causing the birds to fly away that the boy’s dark eyes met his. “Hello, would you mind moving slightly so I can walk by?”

The boy gave him a confused expression as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his patchwork jacket, but after a pause he stood up and moved out the way. 

“It’s going to rain soon,” Logan informed the boy as he walked past him outside into the backyard. “You should head home.”

“Then why are you here?” The boy replied. 

“I need to do something.”

“Like what?”

Logan didn’t reply as he made his way down the stairs ensuring he skipped the one he knew was deemed sketchy by the neighborhood. He walked into the backyard silently wondering not for the first time who maintained the grass back here, before he turned to look at the home. 

“What are you doing?” The boy asked him. Logan hadn’t heard him approach but he had come closer, but he still kept to a relatively safe distance. 

“I need to take some pictures,” Logan answered, turning and walking further away. 

“Why?”

“For a project.”

Logan walked a bit further and then he turned and nodded satisfied with his choice. When he did, he pulled out his phone to snap a few pictures. Satisfied he began to move to other spots in the backyard and take pictures in each spot. 

“That’s a lot of pictures,” the boy commented. 

Logan gave a slight nod, “I want to ensure I have enough. 

“But what are you gonna do with pictures?” 

“You ask a lot of questions don’t you?”

The boy’s head lowered as he looked at his feet and shuffled them, but he didn’t reply. 

“It’s not a bad quality,” Logan assured him as he felt a raindrop hit his skin. “But you also should not talk to strangers as much as you are.”

The boy looked up and gave Logan a look of thought before he spoke, “What's your name then?”

Logan raised an eyebrow amused, “My name is Logan. And yours?”

The little boy gave him a smile, “I’m not going to talk to strangers.”

~~~~

When Logan returned about a week later, the boy was also back. 

He had been sitting on the deck stairs once more, kicking his legs lazily as he stared up at the sky. Upon seeing him Logan had two thoughts. Firstly, he wondered why the kid had returned, and secondly he wondered why the boy’s clothes hadn’t changed. Previously Logan had tried not to focus on the boy’s clothing given he didn’t want to judge, but seeing him here twice in the same outfit was a bit strange. 

The clothes were too big for him, most likely hand me downs. And they appeared worn, his pants had a few holes in them in places other than the knee, as did his shirt, it seemed all patches had been placed on his jacket rather than other clothes. 

“Hi Logan,” the kid said, moving from his spot to let Logan by. “Are you taking more pictures?”

Logan shook his head as he descended the stairs. “Not quite. What are you doing here again?”

The question went unanswered, but Logan wouldn’t force him. Instead he found a seat in the grass and pulled out his sketchbook from his bag. He turned to the page he had started on at home to give it a frown, it was... decent. But then against he hadn’t been looking at the home itself so hopefully he could get a better sense of it now. 

“You never told me what you’re doing,” The boy stated. 

Logan gave a slight sigh as he reached in his bag for his pencils. “I'm updating the house. What it would look like if it wasn't the way it is now.”

“Why?”

“Last semester in school I had to do the same for a building on campus, but the whole time I was thinking about what this place would look like restored. And I have time this summer so I thought I would try. Last time I was here I took pictures of the front and the back. I’m going to work on those. And then next will come the sides, and then I’ll move indoors.”

“Are you going to do each room?”

“I suppose. So now you know why I’m coming here. Why are you?”

The boy gave him a shrug, “Why not?”

Logan silently wondered why he even bothered asking. 

~~~~

“You’ve been coming more often,” the boy noted. “You used to just come once a week but these past few times it’s been more.”

Logan didn’t respond until he had finished setting himself up in the old kitchen. “I’ve been more eager to work on this. And I don’t have a job anymore, so I have more time.”

“Were you fired?”

“No. What are you going to do this afternoon? Are you going to watch me or do something else?”

“I can do both,” the child replied, drawing a slight smile from Logan. 

“I suppose you can.” With nothing more to be said Logan began to play soft music on his phone and began to get to work on redesigning the kitchen. The boy didn’t bother him as usual, and as always he sat far enough away but he’d watch intently. Logan didn’t realize how intently he had been watching until at least an hour had passed and the boy spoke again. 

“What happened to your arm?”

Logan paused in his sketching and looked up to the dark eyes of the boy in confusion. 

“There’s a big bruise.”

As understanding set in, Logan pulled rolled his sleeves down, he must have pushed them up due to the heat without realizing it, but the kid was awaiting an answer he didn’t want to give. “Does it matter?”

“It looks like it hurts.”

“It does.”

“What happened?” 

Logan gave a light sigh, “That’s not a polite question to ask.”

“Was it a fight? Hmm no, you don’t look like you’d win fights.”

“Also not a polite thing to say.”

The boy gave a slight pout but he didn’t question further. 

~~~~

“Can I see the finished drawings? You never showed me.”

Logan looked up in surprise. He hadn’t seen the boy when entering the house, and he had just assumed that for once the boy was home. But it seemed he just hadn’t arrived yet. “In  a moment,” Logan told him. “I’m putting the finishing touches on the kitchen, you can see it after.”

“Which room will you do next?”

“I want to do the living room, but that one may take some work given its size, so maybe the dining room next. That one should be simple.”

“Are you gonna do the bathrooms too?”

“I think so. It would be wrong to redo everything else but them... Alright. Kitchen is done, would you like to see?”

The boy nodded eagerly, but his steps were so slow and cautious as he approached Logan. Logan laid out his sketchbook going to his first drawing and waited until the boy was close enough. He still stayed out of arm's reach, but he was close enough to see as Logan went through the pages. Each one had pictures of the original house taped to it, and then came Logan’s designs done in different colored pencils and pens with a million notes in his neat scrawl beside the many details. 

“How do you know how to do that?”

“I’m studying architecture,” Logan explained. “And last semester I took a class which focused both on restoration and redesign.”

“The walls are plain. And there’s no kitchen things,” the boy commented. 

“There is not,” Logan agreed. “Stoves, paint, cabinets, and all of that can be bought and changed, this can't be.”

“Yes it can. You’re doing it right now.”

Logan couldn’t exactly argue with that. “You think I need to put it in then?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m afraid interior design isn’t where my skills lie... oh I have an idea. Why don’t you pick them out?”

“Me?”

“You’re always here while I draw and you take an interest. Next time I’ll bring some magazines and scissors and you can cut out the ones you like. How about that?”

The boy’s dark eyes scanned Logan’s face as if attempting to look for any hints of deceit, but finally he nodded. “Okay.”

~~~~

“Logan look at this one!”

Logan looked up from his drawing to see that the boy was holding up a magazine and pointing to its dining room set. 

“It would be perfect!” He decided. 

Logan gave a slight chuckle, “I haven’t even finished the dining room yet.”

“Well make the walls match this.”

“I’ll consider it. I thought you were picking out the kitchen though?”

“But I saw and I liked this one. I’m almost done with the kitchen. Promise!”

Logan resisted the urge to smile as he continued in his task. He hadn’t expected the boy to get so excited over clipping things out of magazines, but it was oddly nice to see him so happy. 

“Done!” 

Logan set his sketchbook aside and he moved to see the boy had spread out some clippings. “So I see. You want to do the next part now?”

“What’s the next part?”

Logan didn’t reply at first, rather he reached into his backpack and drew out the plastic sheets he had brought. They were nothing special, simply what his designs would slide into, but even so the boy watched him eagerly. Logan slid in his kitchen design to it and pulled out some clear tape. “Now you can tape them wherever you want on to it. Just be sure to do it on the plastic.”

“So the drawing isn’t messed up?”

“Exactly. And then when you’re done with that...” Logan pulled a thin pointed sharpie from his bag. “Then you sign your name so everyone knows it’s yours.”

“Got it!”

With the boy set up again Logan continued his work on the dining room but it wasn’t too long before a “Tada!” rang out. The boy was holding it proudly and the moment he had Logan’s attention he began to point out different things and why he had picked them, it was adorable in its own way, but what stuck out of the Logan most was when the boy pointed out his handwriting on the bottom. 

“And I finished it like you said. By signing my name, I even did it in cursive!”

“You’re trying to upstage me I see,” Logan learned a bit closer to decipher the messy letters. “Virgil. That’s a nice name.”

The boy nodded in agreement, “It’s nice to officially meet you Logan! Now can I put plants in the backyard?”

“Of course.”

~~~~

“Is it time to start upstairs?”

“I think so,” Logan nodded, picking up his things. “Any suggestions on which room to start with?”

“The office.”

“Then that’s where I’ll start. And you’ll pick out the living room for me in the meantime?”

“Uhuh.”

With that decided, Logan took to the stairs listening to the sound of them creak with each step. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t unnerving. Like most others he had no reason to go upstairs in the old house, for one most people kept the main level and the party trashed area it had become. But according to the myths of his town, there were many stories on why one shouldn’t go up the stairs of the old house on the end of Wendon Way. Some claimed it’s where monsters lived, and others were convinced all who went up there were cursed. Logan personally didn’t believe in such fantasy, but he found himself more on edge than usual. As he reached the top stair and looked down the empty hall he took a deep breath, to calm and remind himself the differences between fact and fiction. 

“It’s the first door on the left,” Virgil chirped from behind him. 

Logan nodded and followed the instructions and opened the door to what had once been an office. Unlike downstairs, the old furniture remained. The room was small with tall bookshelves covering two of the walls. Directly in front of him sat an old dust covered desk and a chair, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to go over to sit at it. Rather he snapped a few pictures to use when he went home and sat in the middle of the floor to draw.  

“You’re not gonna sit in the chair?” 

Logan shook his head, “This spot is fine.”

Virgil didn’t reply, and rather he sat in the doorway and spread out the magazines he had been carrying and began to work. It was strange in a way, Virgil’s ability to stay on task for so long. Logan had always thought kids had short attention spans and yet he and Virgil could sit and work for hours. And even when Virgil had finished picking out what he liked he would find other ways to quietly occupy himself in the meantime. 

“What are you gonna do when you finish?” Virgil asked suddenly.

“I’ll do another room.”

“No like, when you finish the house.”

“I’m not sure. But I’ve got some time before then, I just wonder if I can finish before I go back to school.”

“Do you go to school far away?”

“It’s a few hours away.”

“That’s far away.”

“Then I suppose so.”

Virgil didn’t reply but rather he began to pull at the strings from one of the holes in those same pants he always wore. Logan didn’t push, the boy would speak when he was ready. 

~~~~

“Hi Logan.”

The sudden voice caused Logan to jolt in surprise. His pulse shot up as he looked up from what he had been doing to see Virgil standing in the office doorway. He took a deep breath, “You startled me.”

Virgil gave a shrug as he moved to the stack of magazines Logan had left to the side, “Did you bring new ones?”

Logan took another deep breath, “I did. You need to make more sound when you walk.”

Virgil ignored him, but something about his own words stuck with Logan. Since first meeting Virgil he had known that the boy walked quietly. And it certainly wasn’t the first time Virgil had accidentally snuck up on him, but with the loud creaks the stairs gave even under the slightest amount of weight, he would assume that Virgil would have made a sound coming up the stairs. Had he been that engrossed in his designs that he hadn’t even heard? Or maybe Virgil had been in a different room on this level already. It wasn’t as if Logan had any idea what Virgil did in the house when he wasn’t there after all. What did he do? And why did he come at all?

They were questions Logan had been wondering since first laying eyes on the boy, and yet it seemed as more time passed he was getting more curious rather than less. 

“Logan? Which do you think is a better couch?”

Logan refocused on the present and Virgil pointing out two brown couches in a magazine. “They look the same.”

Virgil responded with a frown, “No they’re not, you’re not helpful.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’ll do the sofa last,” Virgil decided, flipping to another page. 

“You could be quite the interior designer when you grow up.”

Virgil shook his head, “That’s not what I wanna do.”

“Oh? Then what do you want to do?”

Virgil didn't reply at first and when he did it was quiet enough that Logan nearly missed it. “Leave.”

“What do you mean by-”

“Logan?” A voice called from another room. Logan’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he stood. “Logan?” The voice called again. 

With that Logan exited the office and headed to the stairs to find his younger brother’s face looking up at him. Patton gave him a relieved smile. “There you are kiddo! This place gives me the creeps.”

“What are you doing here?” Logan replied descending the creaking stairs. 

“Dad wants you so mom called, but you didn’t answer and since I knew you were here I came.”

“My phone was off,” Logan lied. 

“What if something was wrong and we needed to call you?” Patton chided. “And if you got in trouble it would take too long for it to turn on to call for help.”

“Is he that mad?”

“I don’t think so.”

So he was. Logan gave a slight sigh, “Let me grab my stuff.”

He hurried up the stairs silently wondering how to apologize to Virgil, but when he returned to the office the boy was already gone. 

~~~~

“Who was that last time?” Virgil asked as Logan entered the house.

“My brother,” Logan answered. ���I finished the office at home. Why don’t we move to the master bedroom?”

“Is he older or younger?” Virgil asked later when they had been sitting in silence. 

“He’s two years younger than me.”

“He sounded like he was treating you like the younger brother.”

“He does that.”

“Are you two close?”

No. “It’s complicated...”

“I have an older brother,” Virgil offered after a pause. “I haven’t seen him in a long time though.”

“Oh, is he old enough to move away?”

“Kinda.”

“Why don’t you like your brother?”

Logan stopped in his sketch and set his pencil to the side. “I didn’t say I don’t like him. I said it’s complicated.”

“Do you like him then?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you get along?”

“We get along,” Logan amended. “Patton gets along with everyone. I said we weren’t close... What about your brother? Do you two get along when you see him?”

“No.”

~~~~

“The final room of the house,” Logan stated, pushing open the door. He glanced down to the boy beside him and Virgil gave a slight nod with an almost solemn expression. 

It was a bedroom.

There were two beds in it. On the left by the door was a twin sized bed, but on the right was a smaller bed meant for a child. Between the two was a large dresser on which sat a broken mirror. Like the others on this floor the furniture was covered underneath a layer of dust, but one thing which was different about this room was the presence of flowers. 

They were dead and shriveled, some even decomposing, but that would mean someone had been in here not too long ago to put them in here. But why and when? Hadn’t this house been abandoned for ages? It didn’t make sense, but even so the flowers laid on the child’s bed beside a teddy bear. Their presence didn’t seem to bother Virgil any, as the boy walked past him into the room to go sit on the bed and pick up the old toy. 

Logan took a deep breath trying not to focus on answers he didn’t have. He only had a week left at home, and one room to go. That should be his focus. 

He had just gotten himself situated on the floor when his phone rang bearing Patton’s name. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Lo!” Came Patton’s cheery tone. “Are you not coming home? We’re about to go see Grandma.”

“I told you this morning I’m not coming.”

“But she’s our Grandma,” Patton complained. “I know she wants to see you!”

“No she wants-” Logan forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’ll see you when you guys get back tomorrow.”

“Okay love you L!”

“You too.” When he hung up Logan found Virgil’s quizzical gaze on him. “My brother,” he explained. “He was asking if I was going with them to see our grandmother.”

“You’re not?” Virgil asked, setting the bear back in its place. 

“I’m not. I don’t really like going over there.”

“Why not?”

Logan grabbed his pencil and set to work instead of entertaining this conversation, but Virgil was still watching him. “Because,” he said finally. 

“Because why?”

Logan bit his tongue to keep from replying something he’d later regret. Virgil was a curious kid. He had known that for months now. “Just because.”

“You don’t like them do you?”

“They don’t like me!” Logan shouted in return. “Okay? My family doesn’t like me. So why should I go spend time with them?”

Virgil’s response came without any hesitation, “Because you have them.”

Logan’s sudden anger and frustration vanished at the words and he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the paper in his lap rather than into those dark eyes. “When we were kids we were at my grandparents’. And they have a pool... Patton wasn’t a good swimmer, I was. So I was supposed to watch him. But... but I didn’t. And Patton almost drowned. He died in that ambulance too, the EMTs actually brought him back...” he trailed off and shut his eyes trying to stop from falling deeper into his memories. “I nearly got my brother killed.”

“And you still blame yourself?” Virgil guessed. “Your family still does too?”

Logan opened his eyes to stare at the kid in confusion, wondering how someone Virgil’s age could even comprehend what he was saying, but it was all he could do to wipe away the few tears threatening to fall. “Patton is the only one who doesn’t blame me.”

“At least it was an accident,” Virgil said quietly. 

“What do you-”

”You always ask why I come here. It’s not that I come here, it's that I never left.” Virgil said slowly, getting up and coming closer. It wasn’t until he was directly in front of Logan that he spoke again. “Not since the day I died.”

Anything Logan could have said was cut off as Virgil poked his forehead- no Virgil had tried but Logan felt nothing but cool air. 

“That’s- That’s- That’s not...”

Virgil gave him a slight smile as he took another step forward only to walk through Logan. 

“I died a long time ago,” Virgil told him, walking around him and going to sit on that small bed. “I’m not good enough at time to say how long.”

Logan couldn’t get words to leave his mouth. He wanted to say something- anything but any half formed thoughts died on his tongue. 

“Take a deep breath.”

Logan did as he was told and even so it took him three tries just to choke out the word “how.”

“My brother,” Virgil answered, picking up a few dried petals and letting them fall from his fingers. “He pushed me down the stairs. He told everyone I fell.”

“Why?”

Virgil gave a slight shrug, “Without me Mommy wouldn't have to stay with Daddy. So when I died they left. But she used to come back to leave me flowers. And since she died he does it now. He comes on my birthday and... and on the day he killed me.”

“Virgil, I-”

“You should get close with your brother at least,” Virgil interrupted. “I don’t know about the rest of your family. But your brother seems nice.” 

“He is,” Logan replied quietly. 

The boy- the ghos- Virgil gave a satisfied nod. “You know, you’re the only one who’s ever seen me. I don’t know why, do you?”

Logan shook his head quickly, “N-no.”

Virgil gave a shrug as if it didn’t matter as he moved back over to Logan and picked up a magazine. “I’m gonna pick out the bathroom.”

Logan didn’t know how to reply, so he didn’t. He grabbed his sketchbook and instead began to draw. 

~~~~~

“Virgil?” Logan called cautiously upon entering the room. But Virgil didn’t reply or come out from wherever it was he went. He didn’t come out at all when Logan was drawing, or when he left. Nor did he come out the day after that. Or the day after that. 

Logan entered the room and looked around hopeful, but just as before he was completely alone. He gave a soft sigh as he set the flowers he had brought on the bed. “I head back to school tomorrow,” he told the nothingness. “I...I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t even know if you can hear me but, I’m making an effort with Patton already. My parents don’t seem happy about it but I am... so um. I guess I’ll go. I’ll come back though. I need to finish designing this room after all. So... I’ll talk to you then.”

The old house on the end of Wendon Way had stood for what felt like eons. Not one in the sleepy town could recall when it had been lived in last- or someone had ever lived there at all. But regardless of the details, it had become an urban legend among all ages. For children it was a place to avoid due to rumors, teenagers were responsible for spreading the rumors to keep kids away from their spot, and some adults didn’t agree with the idea of trespassing and understandably worried about what could be going on, and finally were the adults who had been those teenagers and fueled such worries among their peers. And for others it was a place to be far from the other worries of life. And yet there were unofficial rules to the house on the end of Wendon Way, one of which was not to go to the second floor due to the ghost which lived there.

But as he had learned, it wasn’t exactly a rumor. 

“This is you isn't it?” He demanded entering the second bedroom. 

The only occupant of the room looked up with a neutral expression. But not getting a response he gave a huff and began to read off the old news article he had found from his phone. “‘Local college student killed in violent car crash after supposedly leaving the Wendon House’. That’s you right?”

Logan’s attention fell back to the ever present sketchbook in his lap, “You're always so loud, Roman. I like peace when I draw.”

“But I’m right aren't I? You died like fifteen years ago outside this place? Am I right?”

“You are.”

“I knew it!” Roman cheered. “So, what are you drawing today?” When Logan didn’t reply Roman moved closer before he frowned seeing the face drawn in the book. “You always draw that same kid. Why?”

“Because I don’t want to forget his face.”

Romag gave an interested hum as he moved to sit across from Logan, “What’s his name?”

“His name was Virgil. And he was here before me.”

“And then what happened?”

“I got close to him.”

“And then?”

Logan stopped drawing for a moment and he looked up, those deep and sunken in eyes meeting Roman’s, “I took his place.”

[pies-writes-and-more]

PIES’ FIC RECOMMENDATIONS FOR JUNE 2020

Click HERE for the amazing fics I read in May 2020!

NOTE: If you’ve got an incredible fic that you are super proud of or if you think that I should read something you’ve read, PLEASE SEND IT TO ME! I’m really big on StevexFem!Reader, BuckyxFem!Reader, WandaxFem!Reader, CarolxFem!Reader, and Stucky fics!!! (And of course any fics with gender neutral readers is ALWAYS welcome :) )

If you do end up reading these fics, please tag me if you reblog them or comment on them!! I’d love to see your guys’ reactions :)

PS. if these links dont work for some reason, please let me know so I can update this list because I was very distracted halfway through making this so it might not be perfect!

SPECIAL MENTION FIC/POEM RECOMMENDATION

Okay so I’m not doing this because I’m trying to give myself a shoutout however, @wxstedhexrt​ and I have been collaborating in a poetry inspired fanfic collection called Falling! Tis a BuckyxFem!Reader series and if I do say so myself, it’s fucking adorable. 

The real reason I’m mentioning it is because @wxstedhexrt​‘s poems are some of the most real and gorgeously written things I’ve ever met so please give them a look! 

She has this series on Achilles and Patroclus, this collection about the word Silver, gorgeous poems from last year (involving Icarus, Apollo, and Helen of Troy), and so many more!!! Check out the tag #poetry or #mywriting on her blog!!! Send her some love :)

ANYWAYS BACK TO THE FANFICS!

1. Homecoming by @scentedsongrebel | Steve Rogers x Desi!Reader “You bring Steve to Mumbai to meet your family“ Yall want some wonderful representation in your fic reading!!??? READ THIS ONE! It’s so fucking wholesome and I love the whole story line of Steve learning more about his partner’s culture so that he can impress her family. Fucking adorable. 100% fluff with a wonderfully diverse reader and author!!!!

2. Iced Tea by @kaunis-sielu | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader I don’t think there’s an official summary for this fic ( @kaunis-sielu pls correct me if I’m wrong) BUT LEMME TELL YALL. I AM A SUCKER FOR BIKER FICS. WE LOVE BIKER STEVE. This was 100% FLUFFY and we LOVE IT. Amazing job!!!!!!

3. let me show you by @moteldwelling | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader bucky gives reader a “redo” on her first time, and takes her virginity. Listen here people. This smut took my soul and dragged me to hell and back. I am a SUCKER for Bucky fics but this one like took my life away. We love a man who makes sure his lady is having a good time when being intimate with her!!!!! we stan a good boi. Anyways if I keep thinking about this fic, I’mma need to go shower so I’mma end this here. Go read for yourselves and then cry with me about why Bucky Barnes isn’t in our lives. 18+ readers only of course! 100% HOT. FUCKING. SMUT.

4. Under the Rainbow, Draga mea by @binkysteebnpewter | Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Again, I don’t think there’s an official summary for this (pls correct me if I’m wrong @binkysteebnpewter) and YES, I KNOW i put this in my May recommendations but I finished reading the series in JUNE so it is HERE AGAIN and DESERVES to be HERE AGAIN BECAUSE WE LOVE FICS WITH 100% GAY SHIT AND LOVE <3 I am a fucking sucker for the love that Wanda and this Reader have together. If you’re not convinced, ask @wxstedhexrt how much I cried reading it lol. anyways an amazing series that I will continue to go back reading again and again because i LOVE wlw fics <3 

5. Oh no, that’s bad by @andyl394 | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader You’re a college student, you’re mad angry, Bucky ruins your paper, that’s not good is it? I read through this 20-part series like there was NO TOMORROW and god DAMN. We love hilarious social media AUs but this one really killed me. I always love Bucky who is soft and shy in fics but the Bucky in this fic was a LITTLE SHIT and i had so much ANGST. Anyways, if you read this fic, you may want to slap the characters BUT I PROMISE THERES AN ADORABLE HAPPY ENDING!!!! 100% INCREDIBLE

6. Home by @evanstush | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader It’s been 2 years since the last battle and it’s now Morgan’s 7th birthday, and well, Tony being Tony, he prepared a small party for her little girl, inviting everyone from the team, including you. So Kate decided to rip my heart out with this fic and have me on my knees sobbing so that’s cool. That’s it, that’s all I have to say. JK, this fic actually is like half and half FLUFF and ANGST but lord is it worth it. Kate, you know I adore you so much and your fics play a big part in why! God this girl deserves more love on these stories because holy shit I’m DEAD.

7. Baby Self by @honeyloverogers | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Alternative to Babies! Assemble, What if it was you that got turned into a baby instead? YALL WANT FUCKING FLUFF!?!?!?! 1000000000% FLUFFFFFFF AND CUTENESSSSSS (with like a little bit of a piece of shit lady who comes around but like its cool because a baby says fuck lol) THIS WAS A FIC WRITTEN LIKE NO OTHER. I LOVED IT SO MUCH. IT WAS SO PERFECT. Think of endgame and that moment when Scott turns into a baby??? Yeah now scratch that and think of Y/N if SHE turned into a baby and the avengers couldn’t figure out how to turn her back right away so now everyone has to take care of this baby HGOIDHFOISHFOISDHF the baby fever was so real in this fic ughhhhh <3 

8. Insecurities by @evanstush | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader You’re 7 months pregnant, and you can’t help be so insecure about some things. And here’s Kate again bringing me back to life with more wholesome fluff and a wholesome husband who loves his wife so fucking much and ugh i- i read this fic over and over sometimes and it just makes me realize how much i want this adhfoiasjdfoi <3 I aint pregnant but if I WAS i would want this steve to be comforting me ugh 103874203847% FLUFFFFFFF <3 

9. Requested fic (idk if it has a name??? sorry) by @donutloverxo | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Request: Hey, as for the headcanon requests how about Steve giving a lift to a girl in need when it's raining heavily or smth? I don't know where this idea came from 😅 Did yall need some confirmation that Sarah Rogers raised her son the fucking right way?!?!? WELL HERE YOU GO. THIS MANS OUT HERE BEING AN ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART <3 ugh we love wholesome drabbles really <3 amazing workkkkk!!!!!

10. Leather and Lace by @queen-kass-the-writer​ | Steve Rogers x AFuckingKickAssFem!OC :) Steve Rogers hardly expects anything to come out of a sleepy night at his new favorite dive bar until a pristinely dressed little lady saunters into the bar with a delicate smile but a wicked uppercut. Biker!Steve x Helena Alright so this is a little different than the above fics because THIS IS AN OC FIC :D now if any of yall know me I don’t tend to read OC fics HOWEVER Kass is INCREDIBLE at churning out fics. I had gave her an idea of a Biker Steve fic and like BAM she made it :O (seriously i don’t know how that is... to have an idea... and actually produce it?!??!) It’s a hilarious story of Biker Steve being head over heels Helena which is adorable (and a character named after me being Bucky’s shithead date lol hilarious) YALL BETTER READ THIS SHIT BECAUSE IT’S 100% WONDERFUL

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

Okay so I know that this list is FAR shorter than my last recommendations list. I suckkkkked at reading fics this month lol. I’m definitely going to try and read more in July so here’s to hoping! Love you all a ton :D