#a special shelf all on its own for the impact play you know that's right

[lemonandpie]

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9bLikTt3Sz/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet

bts loumand bedroom pic (toys in second/last: paddle, flogger, single tail whip is general consensus)….you can also see them in the bg of 02x04 while Louis and Armand are fighting while getting into their jammies)

Anon I am kissing you on the mouth

[tailwindpets]

Your Dog's Best Friend: The Ultimate Guide to Canine Leg Braces

Imagine watching your furry friend, once the picture of boundless energy, now limping after a walk or hesitating to climb the stairs. It’s heartbreaking to see our dogs in pain, but as a dog owner, it’s important to know that there are solutions beyond surgery or expensive treatments. Enter canine leg braces—an unsung hero in the realm of dog care. These simple yet highly effective devices provide relief and help our dogs regain the confidence to move freely again.

What is a Canine Leg Brace?

A dog leg brace is a specially designed orthopedic device that supports your dog’s injured or weak leg, helping them recover from injuries, surgeries, or manage conditions like arthritis or hip dysplasia. Think of it as a protective shield that provides stability to joints, just like how humans use knee braces for their own injuries.

Unlike human braces, which often get bulky and uncomfortable, dog knee braces are lightweight, adjustable, and designed to ensure your dog can continue with their daily activities, pain-free. With the right brace, dogs can enjoy a fuller quality of life, without compromising on their health.

Why Should You Consider a Dog Knee Brace?

According to the American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA), around 25% of dogs suffer from joint problems at some point in their life, especially in larger breeds. One common condition is cranial cruciate ligament (CCL) injuries, which affects up to 2% of dogs annually in the United States. This is where dog braces come into play. They not only reduce the pain but also minimize the stress on the injured area, providing crucial support during recovery.

Another condition commonly treated with dog leg braces is hip dysplasia, which affects nearly 20% of all dogs, especially larger breeds like German Shepherds and Labradors. With the right brace, your dog will find relief from the discomfort that comes with this condition, and you’ll notice an improvement in their mobility over time.

Types of Canine Leg Braces

Dog Knee Braces: These are specifically designed to protect the knee and support the joints. If your dog has a torn ACL or suffers from luxating patella (a condition where the kneecap moves out of place), a knee brace is essential for healing and pain management.

Dog Leg Braces: These braces are typically used for lower leg injuries and provide added stability to the bones, ligaments, and tendons. They’re ideal for dogs that have sprains or fractures or are recovering from surgery.

Custom Canine Braces: While off-the-shelf braces are effective for general use, custom-designed braces are ideal for dogs with unique leg shapes or specific conditions. These braces are tailor-made to fit your dog’s body for the most effective support.

Benefits of Dog Leg Braces

Pain Relief: Dog braces provide compression and stability to the affected area, which can significantly reduce pain and swelling, allowing your dog to move without discomfort.

Increased Mobility: With the right dog knee brace, your dog can resume its normal activities, such as walking, running, and playing. This is especially important for senior dogs suffering from arthritis.

Reduced Surgery Risk: For dogs with knee injuries like an ACL tear, a dog brace can be a non-invasive alternative to surgery, helping to avoid the high costs and long recovery times associated with surgeries.

When Should You Get a Dog Leg Brace?

If you notice your dog limping, avoiding certain movements, or showing signs of pain after activities, it may be time to consult with your vet about a canine leg brace. Don’t wait for the problem to worsen—early intervention can make all the difference in your dog’s recovery.

Real-Life Impact

Take the story of Max, a 7-year-old Golden Retriever who was diagnosed with arthritis. His owner, Emily, didn’t want to see her loyal companion struggle. After consulting with a veterinarian, Max was fitted with a custom dog knee brace. Within weeks, he was back to playing fetch and climbing stairs, much to Emily’s relief. Max's experience is a testament to the effectiveness of these devices in providing comfort and mobility.

Conclusion

A dog knee brace or dog leg brace can transform your pet’s life. Not only does it help alleviate pain, but it also restores the joy of movement that many dogs lose due to injury or aging. As a responsible dog owner, it’s crucial to explore these options and give your dog the best chance to stay healthy and active. After all, your dog deserves to run, play, and live their life to the fullest!

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Best Friend Things | Kol Mikaelson

Hey Lovelies, surprise, I'm back! I missed you all so much! Thank you to those special people who checked up on me faithfully! You know who you are and I hope i can repay that kindness one day! Y'all are honestly amazing!! I hope you all like this, it's more of a drabble so I am sorry for that but I needed to submit something :) All the best loves, I hope to see you soon again!

Description: Honestly just a Drabble about Y/n and Kol becoming best friends with a small storyline about him protecting her from a bad home life, nothing too bad, sorry for the weak description LOL

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, hospital, completely SFW though (unfortunately)

Word count: 3526

Tags: FLUFF, a lil angst but not much SO MUCH FLUFF

(Pics aren't mine but the mood board is <3)

You don’t know how you and Kol became best friends, it sort of just happened. You were in high school when you first met him. He was a year above you, the senior to your junior. Not to mention the captain of the football team. He was everything you weren’t. Popular, athletic, known. You were just a shy girl with a paintbrush who flinched a little too much. The first time he spoke to you, you almost fainted.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, refusing to move from the autumn heat until your sketches are finished. It’s the first week of school and the football team has been practicing every afternoon. It’s perfect for life drawing. Jogging, stretching, catching, tackling. It’s the best practice, especially if you plan on getting into school and as far away from Louisiana as possible.

Your hands tremble, the charcoal between your fingers stuttering over the page. You sigh, ready to rip the page out and start over.

“No, keep it, love,” your hand jerks again, along with the rest of your body, at the unfamiliar voice, “I like the way it looks. It’s unique.”

His accent is thick and enchanting, pulling your eyes from the drawing to the boy standing above you. Kol Mikaelson. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat. Your cheeks flush but it’s thankfully hidden with the summer sun. He’s not looking at you, anyway, his eyes glued to your sketch pad. It's filled with football players which wasn’t weird until now.

You run a still shaking hand through your hair, pushing it out of your sticky face, “I, ah, thank you. I think.”

You pull the sleeves of your jacket further down your arms, trying to hide the tremors. His eyes are now on you, skimming over your curled form. You can feel his eyes land on your face but you don’t meet them with your own. Your heart picks up when he sits down next to you, staying a couple feet away, but still pretty close. You sit as still as you can, trying desperately not to fidget. For a guy who’s been running in the heat for a couple hours he still smells really good. Like pine trees and liquorice. Who even smells like that?

“Aren’t you warm in that hoodie?” His question seems harmless but it makes you freeze up even more.

You look over your shoulder, spotting a familiar black truck in the parking lot, mumbling, “I’m fine.”

You close your sketchbook, tucking it into your tote bag along with your pencils and charcoal. You stand up, stretching your legs slightly, stiff from sitting on the grass for the past two hours. You can feel the indents in your legs and know for certain there are green stains on your bottom. You don’t check though, not with Kol next to you. You go to walk away but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

The breath leaves your lungs as he presses unknowingly on a bite carefully tucked under your shirt, “are you sure, love?”

It’s all you can do to not look at the truck again, staring at the ground, doing your best not to wince at his fingers, “I, uh, yeah. It’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” His finger draws your chin up to look into his eyes, which are delightfully carmel and burning with questions.

“I mean I’m fine.”

You can’t tell if you're trying to convince Kol or yourself. Both, maybe. It doesn’t matter though. You don’t plan on ever speaking to him again. You pull your face from his grasp, stifling another groan when you haul your tote bag onto your shoulder, heading towards the parking lot. You already know your step dad is in that truck, tapping his hand impatiently on the steering wheel, watching your every move. You can feel Kol’s eyes like laser beams on your back.

“See you tomorrow then, love?”

You don’t answer, you just keep walking.

The second time you saw him, he didn't let you go as easily. A week had passed from your first encounter on the football team. You hadn’t realized yet but he had followed you home that night. He knew something was wrong, he saw every flinch, heard every breath. Call it intuition. Call it being a vampire. Call it whatever you want, that was just Kol. And with Kol comes his frustrating tendency to never let things go. He had seen it all, and he was furious.

You reach up, standing on your tiptoes to get your books from the top shelf of your locker, wincing at the action. When you had put your things there for the weekend, you hadn't expected to walk into school the following Monday with bruised ribs. Your stomach pulses with pain, the kind that’s white hot and makes you want to throw up. You have to roll back onto the balls of your feet to avoid collapsing. Crap.

You stare at the books longingly, knowing you only have a few minutes until first period starts. It will only take a second to grab them, right? You can do it. You’ll be fine. You have to be fine. It’s fine.

You reach up again, your shirt lifting with your movements. When the breeze that accompanies the busy hallway skims your back, the wind is knocked from your lungs. It feels like someone kicked you all over again. You power through it though. You need those books. They’re just a little further. The more you move your arms, the more your shirt raises. There's more wind, followed by the same burning sensation. You’re going to throw up.

You fall back on flat feet again, bumping into something hard. Probably another locker. The locker’s hands grip the bottom of your shirt. Definately not a locker. You spin around so fast you can’t help the groan that slips out, your back screaming at you from all the activity. You feel tears threatening to spill. Everything hurts.

You’re greeted by none other than Kol Mikaelson, whose eyes are still, glued to a spot just in front of you. The spot where your back had just been. His hands are still balled into fists, like he’s still holding your shirt. He looks confused. No, scratch that, he looks angry. When he finally looks at you his eyes are pitch black. You take a step back out of instinct, the cold metal of your locker searing into your back through the thin fabric of your tee.

“I, ah, Kol,” your eyes dart around the hallway, checking to see if anyone else was watching, only to find it completely empty, “what’s, uh, what’s up?”

He cuts right to the chase, “what’s on your back?”

Your eyes widen automatically at his question. He can’t know. Right? No of course not. Unless he saw. But there's no way. He moves closer to you, his arm landing right beside your head with a slight bang. You flinch. He’s caging you in slightly, sending your heart into overdrive. Your lungs constrict. His eyes are burning into yours. He’s pissed and you’re not sure why. You can’t breathe.

“What do you mean?” Of course you dodge the question, that’s what you’re supposed to do.

He runs his other hand through his hair, tugging at the roots, “love, don’t play games with me you will not win.”

Your mouth goes dry, your voice is too quiet, “what do you want from me?”

He closes his eyes, squeezing the fist that’s still beside your head. You’re not sure what to do. You could run but you would probably only get a few feet before he’d catch you. Would he catch you? Would he even run after you? No, he doesn’t care. Then again, he’s here. He’s pushing you for something. You’re not sure if you’re ready to find out what.

When he opens his eyes again he looks directly into yours, his pupils dilating, “I want you to show me your back. Now, love.”

“I’m going to show you my back,” you know you’re the one speaking but it’s almost like you’re listening to a recording of yourself.

It feels like your body turns on its own accord, one minute you're facing him and the next you're staring at the locker, in a trance. You don’t remember wanting to lift your shirt up but you do it anyway, exposing your back to Kol Mikaelson. You feel the tears start to fall. You want to run, now, not just debate running, but you can’t, you’re stuck. It’s like your feet are glue to the floor.

“Fucking hell,” Kols words are strangled, “what are they doing to you.”

He touches your back lightly, no doubt skimming the blackened marks on your rib cage. His fingers sting and you can’t help but hiss. You lean away from his touch still holding your shirt in place. You can feel yourself trembling but you start to space out.

Kol’s finger tilts your head to meet his eyes once more, “you can put your shirt back, love. Thank you.”

With those simple words you pull your shirt down, whipping around to face him. You look like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for an impact. Time feels frozen still. Kol reaches to touch your face, his eyes fading back to their usual cola colour. Time unfreezes. And you run like hell.

After that day you had started to see Kol more and more. Staring at you from across the cafeteria, shooting pool in town at the local pub, jogging on the sidewalk in your neighbourhood. Wherever you were, there he was. Seeing him became a normal part of your day but you never spoke to him, not after that day at your locker. You wouldn’t talk to him for another three weeks after that day.

When you open your eyes it’s to the sound of machines beeping. There’s a sanitary tinge of bleach and lemons in the air. Your bed is stiff, the room dim. Your arm burns with a kind of deep itch you’ve never felt before. When you go to scratch it, you find a tube and a needle at the source. That’s when it hits you, you’re at the hospital.

Your heartbeat picks up, the machine beeping faster with it. A lady dressed in scrubs sprints into your room but before she can touch you there’s a hand on your face and then one on your neck, against your pulse point. When you look up you’re greeted by someone that you’re not actually that surprised to see; Kol Mikaelson.

“Kol, what-,” you want to continue talking but your throat burns, like you’re swallowing glass with every syllable.

You end up coughing up a storm, something the nurse must have anticipated because she hands you a glass of water. Her hair is a pretty chestnut colour, pulled into a long ponytail. She has a warm smile on her face.

She picks up the chart at the end of your bed, looking at it while she speaks, “you’re going to want to go easy on that throat for a while, sugar plum. You had quite the little accident. You should feel lucky your boyfriend here found you when he did or you would be in a much worse condition.”

Her voice is like honey, slow and sweet. Every word she says brings you closer to calming down. Until she says boyfriend. As soon as she says that word the heart monitor goes wild. He is not your boyfriend. Yes, he is cute, more so than the average boy. Alright Kol is gorgeous, but that’s not the point. Why does she think Kol is your boyfriend?

You look to Kol for the first time since meeting him for help, hoping he can understand your confused expression.

He nods and looks at the nurse with a smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes, “Sarah, darling, do you mind giving us a moment? I think she needs a second to catch her breath.”

She looks like she’s about to protest but he leans a fraction closer and she smiles back, walking out of the room without another word. Your chest falls for a moment when he calls her darling and you’re not sure why. Kol means nothing to you. Well, that’s not true. You’ve grown fond of seeing him around, but it’s nothing that would warrant being jealous, if that’s what this is.

When she closes the door, Kol turns back to you. That’s when you notice his eyes, and the deep purple circles underneath then. Your breath catches in your sore throat. How long has he been here? How long have you been here?

What happened? The heart monitor starts it’s assault on your ears again.

“Love, listen to me,” he pulls the chair he must have been sitting in next to your bed, “if you want me to tell you what happened then you’re going to have to calm down, alright?”

“Ok,” you whisper back, trying to push past the fire in your lungs.

He picks your hand up with his own and you don’t protest, letting yourself be comfortable with this small touch. There’s a small smile on his face when you glance up at him. He rubs small circles near your wrist, avoiding the IV taped on the back of your hand. He looks lost in thought, his carmel eyes somewhere far away.

“Kol,” his name feels funny in your mouth, like you’re not worthy of it, “please talk.”

Just those few words are torture, something that desn’t go unnoticed by him, “shhhh, don’t talk, ok? I’ll explain everything. But I need to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. Please, love.”

It takes everything in you to keep your heart from spiking. You could lie and say you have absolutely no idea what he wants to ask you but that’s a lie. You’re too tired to lie, too tired to hide, and much too tired to run. You just sigh and nod, letting him have his way.

“Do you know that your step-dad is a vampire?”

Oh. So that’s what he chose. That wouldn’t have been your question, but you let him have it. The short answer is yes. Yes, you do know that your step-dad is a vampire. You had figured it out pretty quickly the first time he cornered you in the kitchen after moving in and sunk his teeth into your neck. The longer answer, to a harder question, is no, your mother doesn’t know. And it has to stay that way.

Instead of saying that, though, you just nod your head. Kol’s hand tightens around yours. You don’t miss the way he sighs. He doesn't sound sad though, instead there’s relief on his face. You give him a pleading look.

“Well, love, it seems like your step-dad had been trying to kill you. I’m not sure exactly how or why. Well, that’s a lie actually. I know how. He was draining you of blood. I do not know why though. Why he would want to hurt you.”

The heart monitor picks up yet again and Kol gives you a funny look that you smile softly at. His eyes widen when he sees it, a small smile spreading over his face as well. The heart monitor slows easily.

“I’m just glad I was jogging when he attacked you. I heard you scream. I'm sorry, I kind of broke your door,” he gives you a shy grin, like that's what matters right now, “when I got to you I thought you were dead. There was so much blood, love. I don’t know where your step-dad went. I just wanted to get you here.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. He was the one who brought you here, the one who found you on the brink of death. He must think you’re such a handful. You bite your lip, looking up at him. You hold back tears, ones you didn't know were welling up in your eyes, and breathe deeply. Of course he notices them.

He draws your hand closer to him as Sarah walks back into the room, “what’s wrong love?”

He brings your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. Your mouth falls open. The heart monitor starts screaming.

He looks around the room and then at Sarah, his eyes fiery and his tone demanding, “what the hell is going on?”

Sarah only smiles, shaking her head lightly, “her heart skipped a beat, hun.”

From that moment the two of you were inseparable. You weren't fully comfortable with him yet but that didn't bother him. Well, not often at least. Sometimes when you flinched, though, his heart squeezed a little bit more than it should have. He knew it wasn't him that you were scared of. That it would just take time. You didn’t know it then, but that was one thing that Kol had plenty of; time.

The glass is icy in your fingertips but the contents make it all worth it. You barely suppress a moan at the strawberry goodness slipping down your throat. You don’t notice the way Kol’s eyes darken from across the booth.

“How is it that you’ve never had a strawberry milkshake?”

The two of you are sat in a diner that’s not special to either of you. It’s just another burger joint. The booths are apple red and faded but comfortable. Music trickles from a retro looking jukebox in the corner. Waitresses flow by in pastel uniforms. It's just the right amount of busy. Kol picked well.

Your eyes close as you take another sip, revelling in the sweetness, “I don’t get to go out that much, what can I say?”

You open your eyes to a stone faced Kol, his shoulders tight and his jaw clenched. There’s a heaviness to the atmosphere but that’s nothing new. Since the hospital you’ve both silently agreed to ignore it. Maybe that’s not the best plan but the first time he tried to talk with you about it you shut down. Not own your own accord, you wanted to tell Kol about it, you just couldn't. It was like you lips were sealed shut. Kol had left it after that.

“Well, then, I guess it’s up to me to show you the ropes then, love,” he leans his face in close to yours, his woodsy scent fogging your mind and lighting your body on fire.

You close your eyes once more, breathing in as much of the dark haired boy as you can. When you re-open them you catch Kol sneaking a sip from your milkshake. His glass now empty and pushed to the side.

You slap his arm gently, gasping with mock anger, “that’s not nice!”

He laughs abruptly, some of the strawberry shake landing on his lips instead of in his mouth. Without thinking you reach a hand to his face, wiping the melted liquid off his buttery soft lip. His chocolate eyes lock on yours, his pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest you’re almost certain he can hear it. But that’s impossible, right?

It only takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with your actions at which your cheeks flush on cue. You go to pull your hand back but he grabs it before you can, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. He draws your fingers, the ones coated in syrup and ice cream, to his mouth. His tongue swirls around them and you have to bite back a moan. You can honestly say that nothing has ever felt as exquisite as Kol’s mouth. Not that you have much experience with it. You can’t deny that you wish you had more.

“Kol,” your voice is barely there and breathy, “what are you doing?”

His eyes never leave your own, piercing you as he continues to lazily lick off the ice cream that, in all honestly, is definitely gone by now. A foreign kind of heat pools in the pit of your stomach when he gently bites down on your fingertips. You can’t stop the sigh that falls from your lips. Your whole body is singing from such a simple touch.

He takes his time pulling your hand from his mouth, releasing your digits with a pop, “only making sure you aren’t sticky, love. We wouldn't want that, now would we?”

He doesn't return your hand to his mouth but he doesn't let go of it either. He just laces his fingers through yours in the middle of the table, your heartbeat still echoing through the diner.

When you look across the table again your heart flutters. You see a popular, football star, a fierce protector, one of the most caring people you've ever met. When you look across the table you see your best friend.

And maybe more but that’s for another day and another diner.

[daydream-believin]

A Nice Rock For You, My Love (Please Accept)

Summary: Douxie would like to give the reader a special present.

Warnings: Swearing, stabbing, blood, swords and a knife.

Word Count: 3092 -ten pages 12 point times new roman, baby!

A/N: even i couldn’t predict where the hell this was headed. have fun with this. i sure did ;)

Douxie placed his newest rock onto the window ceil in his bedroom. He’d display it for a while, but add it to the collection jar with the others once it was replaced. Every morning he’s wake up, see the shiny stone on his window ceil, and think of his wonderful significant other.

Y/n was an odd duck, but an endearing one at that. They spent most of their time out in the local forest. Douxie wasn’t sure what they did out there for so long each day, but that didn’t matter as long as they’d come back to see him in the evenings. They’d return to civilization every night scruffy, smelly, and with twigs stuck in their hair, but he thought they looked lovely. Enchanting even. A little dirt never did hurt anyone.

He was going to have to get a new jar soon. Every week or so, Y/n would present him with a new one. A token of their affection for the wizard. He kept every single one. He kept one in the pocket of his favourite jacket. Y/n had found that particular one in the flat of a creek bed. They were drawn in by the bright blue color, reminding them of their beloved wizard’s most recent dye job. After fishing it out, it turned out to be a piece of beach glass, but it was very smooth and rounded. Douxie was using it as a worry stone.

Of course, rocks weren’t the only thing Y/n had brought him. Any small thing not tied down the forest could offer was up for grabs to the local cryptid. Sometimes they’d leave him feathers from a bird they swore they got permission from to take. Sometimes they’d give him sticks they carved intricate designs into. Sometimes bones. A lot of times bones. Not enough bones for visitors in his home to question though. They just assumed he was really goth. One time, Y/n even straight up gifted him a jar of mud. Well, it supposed to be soil from the picnicking spot they often spent their dates, some water from the nearby stream, with a few hand-plucked flower heads added to the top. Romantic, right? Unfortunately, it was accidentally shaken up between the time Y/N made it and the time they presented it to Doux. Still, it was proudly displayed on his shelf.

As tokens of affection began to collect, Doux decided he should return the favor. He’d find the perfect gift for his dear Y/n. One to show them just how much he cared, just how far his affection for them reached. Something to make that toothy smile light up their pretty face. Something to seal a promise to them, that he’d be by their side until the end of time.

So here he was, in this jewelry store, trying to find that perfect shiny rock for his significant other. It wasn’t going too well, to be honest. Everything was too fancy, and quite frankly, too expensive. It was like the whole store was polished and perfect. All those rings were beautiful, yes, but they looked like they belonged on the finger of a middle-class suburban spouse, not his wonderfully scruffy partner. His darling sasquatch. Too impersonal for his taste.

He’d decided that the only way to match Y/n’s energy was to find the stone himself. Luckily, he did live in Arcadia. Right below his feet were a system of caves that spanned at least a hundred miles. Surely the local trolls wouldn’t mind. Okay, so they did, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

After some exploring some of the tunnels for a while and getting a wee bit lost in the maze, he eventually came across a patch of purpley clusters growing from the cave wall. Amethysts, he guessed? Maybe fluorite. Either way, it was marvelous. The color was even close to that of Y/n’s magic. They put off a nice good energy too. This would be perfect. He just needed to find a small enough piece, or chip off a bit, and his quest would be complete. He magicked himself up a knife and set to work. It took him several tries, but eventually he wound up with a nice rock. It wasn’t perfect, even kind of lopsided for a ring, but it was a really good purple rock. Raw too. Uncut and unpolished, like them.

He brought it over to his work buddy Annie’s place. She had been really into jewelry making this year. Douxie had seen some of her work. It was top notch. She’d make him a nice personalized ring and set the stone into it. And he’d have the peace of mind knowing that this gift would be an excellent piece of craftsmanship. Hopefully Y/n wouldn’t lose it in the river. Thankfully, he had measured their ring size during their nap yesterday. So it would be nice and snug. Not drop-in-the-riverable at all… He’d enchant it.

Now all there was to do was wait. He had to give it to them at just the right moment for maximum romantic impact here. He’d watched a thousand proposal videos on youtube to get some semblance of an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. To be honest, a lot of them seemed kind of over the top and forced. While Doux was a showman, he didn’t want to go that route. This moment was going to be special. Intimate. Full of love.

He’d set up a lovely date for the occasion. A moonlight picnic in their favourite spot. Romantic, with candles. And roses. And champagne. He’d bring his acoustic too, to play for them. A classic serenade for his love. He also dressed up the trees around with some twinkly magical lights. He was thinking of making them a little show with magic lights too, to narrate their love story. After it was all over, they’d head over to the clearing to go star gazing. And they’d fall asleep under the stars in each other’s arms as a betrothed couple. Okay, so maybe he was going over the top after all. Just a tad. He couldn’t help it.

Once he got it all set up, he asked Archie to watch over it while he went to go get his darling. He even acquired a blindfold so he could get that maximum surprise effect. But he didn’t take into account the fact that nature isn’t exactly flat, and he had to help them carefully navigate the forest floor. At a certain point, he just decided to just pick Y/n up bridal style and carry them, eliciting a giggle from them. It was faster and easier for both parties. Also more romantic. A win-win. Y/n noticed his heart was beating pretty fast as they leaned against his chest. He was getting antsy as the spot came into view.

He was pleased and relieved to see that nothing had gone amiss so far. Everything was intact. Archie was just lazily snoozing on the blanket. Douxie cleared his throat to catch Arch’s attention and silently shooed him away with a head jerk. The dragon-cat nodded and took off towards town. Douxie placed Y/n down onto the blanket, oh so gently, taking their blindfold off to reveal everything. Y/n was, to Douxie’s dismay, immediately aware that something was up. This was quite the set up before them. They reacted nervously, which disheartened him slightly, but he couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t back out now. He won’t.

He handed Y/n the bouquet of roses, and they flushed. That wonderful pink color of their cheeks somehow gave him enough courage to help him make it through his entire prepared speech without stuttering. What a feat. Despite their earlier wariness, Y/n was captivated. They hung off his every word. Douxie came to the conclusion that he must be using every drop of luck he had right now. Now for the best part, or the part that could embarrass him the most, depending on whether or not his luck continued. Time to woo his beloved with a special song he wrote just for them. Time to bear his soul. His fingers danced over the strings with practiced skill. The most beautiful melody Y/n had ever heard. They had stars in their eyes. He was halfway through his serenade when the heavens opened up.

Douxie almost instantly cast a magic shield over them. It was beautiful, in a way. The raindrops bucketing down, hitting the transparent glowing shield. It made a private percussion symphony just for them. Rain. Douxie saving the day. It was so cliché, they laughed together. Those freckles on his face danced adorably as he shook with laughter. So, in the spirit of clichés, Y/n decided to repay him for all his chivalry with a kiss. It caught him off guard at first, eyes wide, but he quickly melted into it.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled his fingers through their hair. They let out a moan into his mouth. He couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across his face. He turned his attention towards their neck. They tipped their head to give him better access, letting their hands travel down his back. He smelled smokey, he must have had some spell backfire on him today. How endearing. As Doux kissed right under their jaw, they opened their eyes just a half-lid. And then promptly snapped them open all the way. They briskly pulled back, eliciting a whine from Douxie.

“Uhhh, Doux,” He turned around to see what had frightened them.

“Oh fuzzbuckets,” he blinked at the sight, “is that a wolf?” Douxie exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, no, not a wolf. It can’t be a wolf. There’s exactly one singular wolf pack in Cali and its definitely not in fucking Arcadia Oaks.”

The wolf stepped forward. It was smaller than a normal wolf. A wolf-dog maybe. It snarled at them, spit dripping from its sharp teeth. They dared not move, and risk provoking it. Still as statues, Y/n and Douxie watched as it howled a warning to them. Or at least they thought it was a warning.

Suddenly, a very tall figure appeared through the trees. Black cloak billowing in the dark storm, it was if cooked up from some horror novel. Well, a children’s horror novel. It probably could have been much, much scarier. Especially to a couple of wizards that also frequently wore black and walked through the dark with their own less-than-domestic pets. But nevertheless, the sight raised the hackles on the backs of their necks. The wolf-dog ran to its master’s side. The figure patted his familiar’s scruffy head, then strode towards the picnic.

Douxie and Y/n swiftly sprang to their feet. Doux stepped in front of Y/n, to their annoyance. They could hold their own and Douxie knew it, but he couldn’t help those protective instincts. As the figure came closer, he dramatically tossed back his hood. Lightning struck at the very moment his bearded face was revealed to them. Completely by coincidence, honest.

“Eoin?” Douxie exclaimed in surprise. That expression of surprise then twisted into one of disgust. “Oh bleeding balroths, it’s fucking Eoin.” He half-shouted, half-grumbled.

“Aye, Hisirdoux! My old pal! How’ve you been, bruv?” Eoin flourished his cloak and smirked at the two. He eyed up Y/n. “And what a lovely partner you’ve got here, might I add.” Y/n shifted to be a bit more behind Doux.

“What do you want, my friend?” Douxie frustratedly asked. Y/n was getting the impression that, despite the terms of endearment here, these two were not friends.

“Why, don’t you already know, little Douxie? I’m here to settle something I should have long ago.” He said in a now less-than-friendly tone of voice.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Douxie was exasperated. Eoin just started coming closer. “Alright, mate,” Douxie raised his hands, flicking through his cuff, getting ready for what he knew was about to transpire without any more delay. His adversary shot up his hands to stop him.

“Oh! No, no, no! Friend, we’ll settle this like men. The old-fashioned way.”

Eoin summoned two rapiers out of thin air. Both some sort of gleaming black metal and glowing jewels. He kept the one with the red gems in his right hand, and tossed Douxie the one with the blue gems with his left. Color coordination, one supposes. Douxie tested the blade with a few swings and parries. His eyes looked down at the rapier and then to Eoin. They sort of bowed to each other.

They fenced back and forth deftly. It was like a dance. A tango. Y/n was impressed at how light footed Douxie actually was. Maybe he planned this? Was this a part of the show or something? It would be an excellent way to prove how capable he was of defending them from evil or whatever. But they got the feeling that this was undeniably real and not planned by, if not for the rancid aura hanging in the air, the absolutely murderous looks in the two men’s eyes.

The wolf-dog came towards Y/n. They readied a spell for defense, but the dog just, sort of sat next to them? It looked like it was also watching the fight intently. It would woof at the two whenever its master got the upper hand, almost as if cheering him on. Strange. A good boy, Y/n supposed. They’d reach down to pet it but they didn’t fancy losing their hand.

Eventually, Douxie came out on top. The duel had been nasty, but it now looked as if it was all but through. Douxie had Eoin knocked onto his back in the mud at the base of one of the massive old oak trees Arcadia was known for. He held his blade to Eoin’s throat, and they locked eyes. Douxie was huffing for air. But to Eoin’s surprise, He started apologizing. An entire speech. Confusion flashed on Eoin’s face. Hisirdoux had always felt guilty about his transgressions as a lad, about the people he trampled in order to survive before Merlin gave him a home. So he’d spare his old enemy. He was terribly sorry he’d begun this feud in the first place.

“And what say you, old buddy,” Douxie grinned hopefully with a glimmer in his hazel eyes. Douxie held out his hand in an offer of actual friendship. He stared into Eoin’s eyes. Eoin stared into his. Eoin’s shaky hand began to reach up to take Douxie’s. They clasped their hands together. Brothers. And for a moment, Douxie had really thought they had made up this time, looking into Eoin’s feeble smile. That is, until Eoin yanked Douxie down towards himself on the ground. Right into his ready, hungry blade.

To the soundtrack of Y/n’s screams, Eoin stood up, casually tossing Douxie’s limp body off his sword. The wind whipped his cloak as he stormed off, into the storm. The wolf-dog followed his master, howling in victory. Y/n was crossing the woods to cling to Doux in an instant.

He coughed up some blood, and intensely stared into Y/n’s eyes. He weakly took their hand, and caressed their cheek. Then remembered to reach into his pocket and pull out that special ring. He slipped it onto their slick, wet finger. Oh, it appeared that their hands were covered in blood. His blood. Neat.

“I- I wanted to a-” he coughed up some more blood, “to ask you if-”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” they sounded panicked, “please, save your breath, my love.” They pleaded. He feebly leaned in to kiss them, but then his world went black. His body fell like a ragdoll into Y/n’s arms.

Try as they might, they weren’t a healer. Purple light shone like a beacon in the black stormy night. They performed as many healing, even vaguely healing-ish fixit spells as they knew. Unfortunately, this was a stab wound from a magic blade. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, even if they had any trust in modern medicine. Hot tears streamed down their face. But the word hopeless is not devoid of hope. Hope sparked in their heart as they remembered something, somewhere, important.

They had to get him out of here, and fast. He was bleeding out. There was so, so much blood. It had positively soaked through Y/n’s already wet clothes before they were even half way to their destination. The smell of the rain mixing with all the blood was sickening. It was hard to find their way in this darkness. They slipped on the mud and tripped over rocks. Y/n was starting to slip into a panic attack. They couldn’t even go very fast, he was so heavy in their arms. And Y/n was frightened of hurting him even more by accident. Y/n was very, very frightened in general.

Time moved like molasses. In what could have been years for Y/n, the cave they were carrying Douxie to finally came within sight. Their heart was threatening to pound right out of their chest. They mustered up the last of their strength and broke out into a sprint. Bolting through the curtain doors of the cave and knocking around the strings of bones that hung with them, Y/n dropped to their knees.

“Please! Save him! I beg of thee.” They pleaded to the three old women sitting around the hearth.

***

Douxie was awoke to the sound of shuffling and unintelligible whispers. He could smell a strong mix of herbs in the air. He felt the soft back of a cold hand rest on his forehead, so he slowly opened his eyes. He was met with the red tear-streaked face of his beloved. Y/n gasped. they excitedly called to whoever else was in the room with them that he was now awake. He did not recognize these women. He did not recognize where he was. He supposed that didn’t matter.

Y/n pulled him into a gentle hug, as if he were made of glass. A handsome glass sculpture that would shatter if they let go of him. They just lied there, holding onto each other for dear life, for what must have been an hour. Breathing in each other’s scents, they had still refused to let go, but Douxie started to cough again. They reluctantly pulled apart, and y/n started their interrogation about any pain he might be experiencing. He was alright, a little sore, but fine. Nothing time won’t fix. And time he was glad to still have with them.

***

bonus A/N: i swear this was supposed to be normal, just a sappy proposal fic. but once i set everything up i was overcome with the urge to stab him. so i created a character specifically to stab him. idk im not sorry. at first i had eoin like, cheat the duel with magic, but i figured doux would be his own downfall with that bleeding heart of his we all love so much. happy november y’all.

[midnight-circus]

sometimes you just gotta meme for the new guy.

this is two memes combined so sorry if theres similar questions i couldnt be bothered to post them separately lmao

it’s fuckin huge My Bad

-

Names? If you were to choose another name for your oc, what do you think it would be? Did you choose their name for how it sounds or for its meaning?

Tbh it was a toss-up for a long time between Mallory, Felix and Everaud, and eventually the first two won. I chose it for how it sounded, but as it turned out the meanings of his first two names juxtapose pretty well together (first name Mallory - ‘unlucky’, second name Felix - ‘lucky’). His surname, Valkner, I also picked for the sound - the meaning of ‘warrior’ doesn’t really pertain to him lmao

He hasn’t gone by his legit first name of Mallory since he was about 12, and has used Felix almost exclusively since then. he fuckin hates it. most of the time.

Can your oc play any instruments? Have they ever wanted to learn how to play any? Why?

No, he grew up without much money and instruments would have been a luxury. He’s vaguely considered it as an adult, but is pretty certain he’d be useless so hasn’t bothered trying.

How does your oc fare in the dark? Are they scared? Do they trip over things really easily or navigate like they have night vision? (Or do they have night vision?)

He doesn’t like the dark much, but he’s not scared. He’s just got bad eyesight.

How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

tbh he’d probably be pretty good as a teacher to a group of like...primary school kids, maybe from 5-11 in age. He’s quiet-voiced, fairly mild-mannered, and has a strong sense of fairness and justice - the problem would arise when it came to older pupils, teens and up, trying to get the upperhand, bc he’s not authoritative in the slightest and would probably cave. Give him a room of toddlers tho that he’s only responsible for in short bursts and he’d cope pretty well. Either history or english lit would be his forte; sports would be worst. the boy can’t run.

What was your oc’s relationship with their parents like? If they didn’t have any parents/didn’t know them, who in their life was the closest to a parent to them?

It’s...good? I guess?? It’s complicated. his parents love their kids dearly and Felix didn’t go wanting for affection, but if anything it went too far the other way. He was absolutely smothered as a kid - after several near-death experiences with childhood illnesses (bacterial meningitis, which developed into encephalitis, then sepsis in his leg), his mother wrapped him up in cotton wool and never really let go. He couldn’t leave the house alone, he couldn’t go outside on cold days, he couldn’t move at anything faster than a walk - after being in and out of hospitals from 5-years-old to 8, and then being kept on a shelf from then, it really had an impact on how he learnt to interact with other kids his age. It’s also given him an unstable footing in life itself - he’s never quite certain if he’s going to lose everything at the drop of a hat, because that’s how they used to act around him. Now, with the distance of adulthood, he loves them and appreciates that they were trying their best, but he can’t help but resent them a little if he really thinks about it. He gets around this by not thinking about it.

Does your oc have any allergies, intolerances, or other sensitivities? How dangerous is it? Does this affect their daily life in any way?

he’s got an allergy to letting himself be happy it’s very serious

Does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? How many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

Generally he’s more content alone - conversation doesn’t come naturally to him, particularly if it’s a crowd of strangers, and he’s more content in his own company. If he does find himself in a crowd, he will take himself to the edge of the room and people-watch rather than mingle.

How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

He needs to be talked into things, otherwise he’d never try anything - he knows his comfort zones and he’s very comfortable in them, and is not inclined to venture outside. If he’s nudged into doing something, he may end up finding that he enjoys it - doesn’t necessarily mean he’d do it again under his own steam, but he doesn’t always regret the experience.

Does your oc have any best friends? Who was/is their closest friend? What about their worst enemy?

Pathetically enough, he doesn’t, really. Sylvia was his best, and to be honest his only friend, and when she left his social life left with her. He loves her still, but he loves her platonically (even if he hasn’t realised that yet) and that wasn’t enough for her, understandably. Outside of her, there’s not really anyone else.

No enemies. He’s not important enough to have enemies.

How dangerous is your oc? Are they completely innocent, or someone to be feared? Do others know?

tbh Felix’s level of danger is about the same as a puppy with a knife in its mouth. like yeah it might get you by accident but its way more likely to hurt itself and its not really done anything to deserve that so really its more important to get the knife away from it for its own benefit than yours

What is your oc’s vision like? Do they require glasses, are they completely blind, or do they have 20/20 vision? Does this have an effect on their life?

He wears glasses for pretty much everything - he’s not blind without them, but his vision’s bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to cope for the whole day if he left them at home.

If your oc were to be arrested for something, what would it be for? For being too kind, for a legitimate crime?

Probably for getting mixed up in something he didn’t mean to get involved in - Felix is the sort of person to say ‘yes’ to one request because he felt pressured and then find himself 20 ‘yes’s down the line embezzling money from the government for the Serbian mafia with no idea how he got there. He’s quite easy to manipulate - a person who knows how to press his buttons can generally work the answer they want out of him. 

How quiet or loud is your oc? Are they easily capable of sneaking around without being heard, or do they feel it’s impossible to stop talking?

He’s pretty quiet - tries not to draw attention to himself if he can avoid it, and he doesn’t really speak unless he’s spoken to.

How stylistically fancy is your oc? Or would they rather go for comfort and plainness instead?

His primary concern is durability and price - he needs something that will either last for as long as possible so he doesn’t have to replace it any time soon, or something that is cheap enough that it doesn’t matter if it wears out, and ergo, Primark. He oftens window-shops for nice-fitting, fancy clothing in the London boutiques he passes on the way to work, but has never bought anything like that in his life and can’t bring himself to even consider it.

What’s your oc’s preferred mode of transportation? Walking, vehicle, (or in a sci-fi/magic setting) teleportation?

His preferred mode of transport is a car, but his isn’t always working properly so when he has to, he takes a bus - he doesn’t like walking if he can avoid it, partially because it wears him out and partially because he’s kind of physically lazy.

Is your oc always late, always early, or always right on time? Is there any reason for this?

He’s always early, because he leaves early, because he’s already envisioned about 20 different disasters that could make him late on the way and he’s trying to circumvent all of them.

How empathetic is your oc? Or are they closer to being a sociopath? Any reason why?

Felix doesn’t really realise that he’s empathetic - he thinks he’s just doing what everyone does, but in fact he will go out of his way to improve a situation for someone if he thinks they’re being hard-done-by for no benefit to himself, even to the extent of bending or breaking rules. It’s partially why he got into the law-scene - he wants to see things bettered for people who need it.

How much does your oc swear? Or do they keep completely clean? Why is this? Is there any situation where they would be the opposite?

Swearing doesn’t come naturally to him - he’s one of those people who will swear only under their breath and still manage to feel guilty about doing it. If he is going to swear out loud, he does it in German and it always comes out clumsily.

How does your oc’s own perception of themselves compare to how other people see them? Is your oc aware that other people see them differently (if it’s different)?

It’s pretty different. In his mind, he’s pretty useless - a bit of a waste-of-space who has coasted through life by pretending to be better than he is, kind of dull, kind of boring, kind of unattractive, altogether too much of Nothing Special for anyone to really be bothered with. Realistically, he comes across as responsible and competent at his job, perhaps a little highly-strung and nervy but nevertheless perfectly capable of managing the responsibilities he has. It’s his own self-doubt that cripples him, for the most part - people see it in him, and perhaps it makes them wonder if there’s a reason for it.

Is your oc a workaholic, or do they find it hard to be busy at all? Do they find it easy to relax, or must they have something to do at all times? Why?

if he’s not working, he’s thinking, and that simply won’t do. Felix’s whole life is work, for the most part - he throws his all into it, and isn’t sure what to do with himself when he’s sitting at home alone in a dead-quiet flat.

How energetic is your oc? Do they have trouble sitting still or do they feel low on juice all the time? Any reason why?

He’s constantly exhausted. It’s because he’s depressed. He hasn’t figured that out yet.

How does your character sleep? Peacefully, fitfully? What position do they sleep in? What is their typical bedding like?

Not very peacefully - Felix is a light sleeper, so although capable of getting to sleep relatively quickly he wakes up in fits and starts throughout the night. He tends to sleep curled on his left side, on bedding that is cheap, serviceable and durable. He can’t afford to buy anything decent. He finds it easier to stay asleep if there’s ambient noise in the room - white noise, the TV, whatever.

Does your oc have dreams or nightmares? What are they like? Is there a recurring one?

He’ll suffer a pretty bad nightmare here and there, generally to do with hospitals or medical procedures, but they aren’t chronic.

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

he’s real easy to annoy lmao. He’s got a list of pet peeves a mile long and he’s very easy to get a rise out of, so people who enjoy getting a reaction (Lyon) find him very entertaining pickings. He keeps telling himself not to get so worked up because it only encourages things, but he can’t help it.

How does your oc view housework? Do they absolutely hate it? Do they enjoy having their surroundings neat and tidy or do they not notice?

He hates doing it, but he really enjoys a clean space afterwards and goes a long way to keep things organised. Disorder stresses him out - he particularly can’t bear people coming into his space and messing it up.

Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

oh christ. the thing is, he’s actually not that bad at art - he’s got a good handle on anatomy and perspective and can reproduce images or photpgraphs fairly well - but he thinks he’s useless and has never shown anyone anything. he’d produce a pretty solid sketch of like a coffee shop at 5pm or something dull like that, apologise profusely for the result, and hate every second of it.

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

He speaks pretty well - he’s precise with his words and keeps a quiet, even tone, and his vocab is fairly developed. If there’s a flaw with his speech, it’s that he speaks rather too quickly, because he’s used to being constantly interrupted - it becomes a race to get the sentence finished and his point across, before someone can cut him off.

He has a south German accent, but it’s a little softer for years of living in England - it gets stronger when he goes back home to Munich.

Is your oc more likely to follow instructions exactly, throw them out and figure it out on their own, or make it all up? What are the results like?

He follows instructions to the T, and doesn’t have the impulse to experiment and mess around with them for fear of making a mistake that he’d then have to clean up; that being said, if it becomes a matter of fair treatment, he may be inclined to bend the rules here and there.

Is your oc afraid of touch or do they actively seek it out? Is there a reason for this? What are the exceptions?

lmaoooOOOOO he’s petrified, whilst at the same time desperately craving it. He’s horrendously touch-starved, but his childhood lizard-brain learnt to associate touch with painful medical procedures, so he shies from it by nature.

How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

Felix carries an awful lot of medical trauma with him; he’s terrified of medical care, whilst simultaneously being something of a hypochondriac convinced he’s got some sort of Terrible Disease at all times. to be fair, this is because he once had a Terrible Disease, which then led to a second and then a third Terrible Disease before the first could even be treated, so he does have form for it. He also can’t handle blood and has been known to pass out at the sight of it, but would rather do that and recover on the floor than go to hospital.

He will avoid hospitals At All Costs.

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

He’s sort of competitive accidentally - he doesn’t want to be, but he feels like he needs to be in order to succeed. He is desperate to prove himself, desperate to show his mother than he is more than capable of managing his own life, but he will run himself to exhaustion trying to get there. He’s happiest when he’s left to do his own thing without feeling like he’s competing against others, when he’s content that he’s appreciated by the people around him and is able to take that appreciation at face value, but he hasn’t come to that realisation in himself yet - he just thinks he’s doing it wrong.

How skilled at lying is your oc? How frequently do they lie? For what reason? What situations would be the exception?

lmao he can’t lie to save his life it’s actually kind of sad to watch. he’s a Blusher, for one, so he’s already tripped coming out of the gate, and then he starts falling over his own tongue the second he’s asked a question he can’t give a truthful answer to until it’s painfully obvious to everyone. it’s just sad.

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

His immune system is terrible - a side-effect of his childhood. If there’s an illness going around, he will catch it.

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

Totally practical by habit, but perhaps he’d be happier if he wasn’t. He’s not used to doing things just because he wants to, because he’d enjoy the experience - there has to be a reason for it, else he’s not justified in doing it. Same goes for purchasing things that he wants - if he can’t come up with a good, solid, practical reason to buy himself something, he won’t buy it. ‘Because you want to’ is not reason enough.

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be?

One of those candles that re-ignites itself when you blow it out.

If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be?

He’s got a massive sweet tooth and spends a lot of time baking, so probably cake - he’s fond of little gay French patisserie nonsense.

How prepared is your oc? Ready for the worst no matter what, or completely lost in every situation? Would they have a medkit when it was needed? Would they have an umbrella if it rains?

As much as he panics, in a legitimate bad situation he is capable of keeping his head - he runs on adrenaline and suffers the consequences later. He carries a first-aid kit in his car, but has never needed to use it, and yes, he always has an umbrella.

How charitable is your oc? Or are they more stingy with their resources and money?

god. He is stingy, but not out of a miserly nature - he just legitimately does not have much money. He never has, ever since childhood, and that shit is ingrained in him - you watch what you’re spending, because you never know when you’re going to need to make an emergency payment.

If someone was describing your oc to someone who had never met them, what distinguishing features would they mention? How would one identify your oc in a crowd?

Short guy, kind of round-faced, round glasses - kinda looks like he’s lost even when he isn’t. Jumps if you bump into him.

Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

literally everything that he enjoys, he’s embarrassed about. He likes old black-and-white movies and he’s embarrassed about that. He reads shitty romcom fiction and he’s embarrassed about that. He enjoys cooking, he’s embarrassed about that. He actually enjoys sex, believe it or not, and he’s embarrassed about it. Don’t even fuckin get him started on his kinks because he’s embarrassed about them. tbh Felix doesn’t really know how to enjoy himself without guilt or shame, because he always feels like he needs to justify the things he likes and he doesn’t know how to do it. He’s just embarrassed.

What is your oc’s stamina like? Would they be able to run a marathon, or not run at all? What about walking/another physical activity? How are they with exercise in general?

Shitty stamina - he’s got weak lungs and the extent of his running ability is running for a bus and then needing literally four hours to recover. He sort of makes a vague attempt to exercise at home, but is easily discouraged and would just rather lie on the couch having a crisis of body-image.

How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

Felix is the king of repetitive, menial tasks. Set him in front of a diary or a spreadsheet and he’s well away. He really doesn’t mind thoughtless admin labour, even as he insists that he’s capable of handling more responsibility - and although he is more than capable, he also feels comforted by the predictability of data-entry. A nice mix of both would be ideal.

What smells bring back specific memories to your oc? What are those memories like?

Antiseptic and rubber floors, with that underlying stink of sickness. They’re not good memories.

How jumpy or easily spooked is your oc? Do they have a fight or flight reflex to being startled, or are they never startled at all?

He’s super-jumpy and easy to startle, which is delightful to some people. Between fight or flight, he’ll fly.

How polite is your oc? Do they do everything with the utmost courtesy, or do they completely refuse to say please and thank you?

He’s unfailingly polite, because his mother would have beat him with a shoe if he wasn’t.

How flexible is your oc? Can they touch their toes or do they have trouble just sitting down because of how stiff they are?

He doesn’t think he’s flexible at all, but certain intercurricular activities with Lyon suggest that he’s more flexible than he thinks he is.

What is your oc’s typical walking like? Do they speed-walk everywhere, do they take quick short steps or long paces? How loud are their footsteps?

Because his legs are kinda short, he walks pretty quickly just to be able to keep up with people - quiet steps, because he’s trying not to draw attention to himself.

If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be?

Cleaning his glasses, putting them back on, squinting through them, then taking them off and cleaning them again ad infinitum.

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

He’s a talented cook and has absorbed quite a lot about flavour profiles and all that shit that I know nothing about so I’m not going into details lmao. He’s also got a bank of knowledge about classic films that he keeps to himself, as he’s never convinced anyone would be interested. He’s got a lot of shit that he keeps to himself for this same reason, and therefore there’s quite a lot he could surprise people with if the right topics came up.

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

Tries to tell himself he’s a morning-person. He isn’t. Left to his own devices he’d wake up about 10 and fall asleep about 2am, but he’ll insist if asked that he’s naturally inclined to wake up early.

What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

they’d get hold of a list of his pornhub browsing history and yes, they would absolutely be successful.

How easily does your oc get attached to things? Does everything have a sentimental value to them, or do they see nothing as more valuable than its practical use? What about with people/animals?

He gets attached to people and animals very easily, but as for things - he gets angry when he breaks or loses items, but that’s more to do with being stressed about having to pay to replace them than anything sentimental. He’s thrifty to a fault and won’t throw anything out until it’s absolutely unusable, to the point that he’s gotten pretty skilled at sewing repairs in order to avoid getting rid of clothes. He does have sentimental attachments to a few things, but not the majority.

How stubborn is your oc? Are they easily convinced of the opposite opinion, do they not agree but let it happen anyways? Or do they cause conflicts with their inability to budge in their decisions?

He’s not stubborn, as such, but he does know his own mind. He can be talked around or into things quite easily, but he does like to feel as though his voice has been heard.

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

He’d prefer to stay home - there’s too much room for error travelling abroad, and the risks don’t really outweigh the benefits for him. He travels back and forth between England and Germany, and he has visited France before as a boy, but that’s about it.

What signs tell that your oc is nervous? Do they fidget, is it in their expression or the way they say things? Or are they very skilled at hiding it?

He fiddles with his glasses and fidgets his hands around, and is also (as mentioned) a blusher - he’s Not Subtle when he’s nervous or flustered, which in turn makes it worse.

How superstitious your oc? Do they end up following them ‘just in case’? Or are superstitions incredibly important to your oc? What are some that they believe? What about the ones they don’t?

He says he isn’t superstitious, but I’m not certain that’s true - I think he’s superstitious despite himself. He follows them, then gets annoyed with himself for following them and assures himself that he won’t do it again, but then when it comes to it next time he follows them again anyway. He won’t walk under ladders, won’t open an umbrella indoors and he broke a mirror once and almost died. The only one he doesn’t believe is unlucky black cats, because he’s never met a black cat that was unpleasant.

[pupilsandink]

Easy Renovations for Your House

Remodeling must be an enjoyable and interesting process. The secret is to prepare the project out ahead of time, employ the ideal individuals, set aside the suitable amount of time, and plan for hold-ups. Try not to make the completion date accompany your birthday or anniversary. Start prior to that date, if you're planning a unique party, and even then, have an alternate area in mind.Don't enforce an amount of time on yourself or your professional that will produce stress. At the same time, get a clear understanding of for how long the task will probably take, and when it will start. If it's a 3 month job and the work will not start until November, your home will not be prepared for a new year's party, unless you're celebrating Chinese New Year ... This is a remarkably common issue - how much time the property owner believes a job will take and that real work time needed.Have a clear idea of what you want prior to your contractor comes over. You don't have to sketch out the changes, however you need to be able to inform him or her what modifications you would like to see. Attempt not to fall into this trap, or to believe that any changes you make when the job has started will not impact the rate or the amount of time of a task.If you're really stuck trying to figure out how to improve an area in your house, think about hiring a designer. They can work within your budget plan, but if your spending plan is tight, it's most likely better to invest the consultation fee on new drapes or a toilet ... If decision making is a problem location for you, and you're able to relinquish control, then a designer might be the clear solution.Is a fast repair available?If you aren't dealing with structural changes or a total remodeling, then consider a coat of paint, new floor covering, new baseboards, and/or new window treatments. You might want to up-date your bathroom or kitchen area with brand-new flooring. A great throw rug can alter the appearance of a room and include new life to an old carpet.Sometimes a simple change like up-dating your hardware is all that is needed. You may be able to paint your kitchen cabinetry if you don't desire to change it. They will supply you with a computer printout of what your finished kitchen area will look like.If you have an old brick fireplace that you don't care for any longer, or want to give it a fresh look, consider painting it. This is not a criminal activity ... Painted brick looks fantastic!You can likewise put a marble tile (slate works well, too) around the fireplace. Utilize the right tile adhesive (ask at the shop) and pick a nice grout.While you're looking at the fireplace mantels, check out the cool 'fireplace over mantels’-- they're beautiful! You can have mirror custom cut to fit in the center and make your house look magnificent, beloved!Altering the lighting can produce an entire brand-new look in your house. Changing the light switches and switch plates can make a big distinction, too.Doors have a substantial impact on how a home looks. You can get the glass with many various appearances if privacy is an issue. If your spending plan will enable, consider changing all the doors to the brand-new white colonial design - that looks great in simply about every home.Changing your front door can give the house a real increase and most likely add a bit of safety, too, because many of the new doors are made of steel. If you are attempting to make the job as easy as possible, think about utilizing rosettes for the corners, then all the cuts will be straight ones.Altering out the garage doors in an older house to update the exterior look of your house is an excellent idea. Changing out the garage doors can create an unbelievable brand-new look for your house.Did you know that you can paint your devices? It works, too. You can hire a painting service to do this if you're worried about the result. If you are getting new kitchen area cabinets, you can buy matching covers for the home appliances. Ask at the cabinet place for details to see if that is practical in your kitchen. Sometimes your best bet is just to bite the bullet and buy brand-new devices.If you have a little area with a closet (front entry, bedroom), think about altering the routine doors to mirrored doors. That opens a space and supplies more light, quickly.You can make them out of crown molding if you like the wooden appearance, or you can develop them out of plywood, cover with cotton batting, then material to suit your room, and staple them at the back. The relatively brand-new wrought iron curtain rods with all the cool attachments are truly appealing, too. Tie-backs can make a real difference, too, so have a wee appearance at them.Furniture plays a crucial function in the appearance of your home. There are some gorgeous slipcovers offered if you don't wish to replace your additional comfy things! You could attempt your hand at reupholstering your furnishings. It's not as hard as it looks, but it does take time and ability, however if you're a prepared individual and strategy it carefully, it ought to work out all right. Get a staple gun to make the task a little much easier.Maybe you remain in the market for a brand-new headboard? You can make your own out of a good door, with an even pattern, some good crown molding, and some legs. You can acquire these at any lumber shop. Turn it on its' side to develop the appearance you're after.If you 'd like a softer headboard, attempt covering a sheet of plywood with a fair little bit of padding, then cover with product and staple. If it's huge enough, you might have the ability to simply sit it behind the head of the bed, or you can attach it to the frame.Release your old notions about painting wood furniture - it can really bring it into today’s standards. If you are painting a hutch, keep in mind to paint the interior to keep it looking light. Including additional lighting is easy with the new 'stick on lights' offered at regular retail outlets. Smear Vaseline on the windows of the system prior to you paint it to make tidy up faster and much easier.You can change the hardware, too, or paint that, also. If you want to be adventurous, you could tile the top of your cabinets and end tables with a good marble or ceramic tile.New bedding can really alter the feel of a bedroom. If you do not currently have bed skirts, try adding these. An easy and affordable way to develop you own bed skirt is to take a flat sheet that is a size larger than your bed. Position it thoroughly on the bed to reach the floor around the bed, then make pleats at the corners. You can pin it, or just arrange the leading bed mattress over the sheet to hold it in place. Try adding a duvet cover over an old comforter for a various look. You can get matching pillowcases, too, that'll really complete the look.Speaking of tiling, if your kitchen area countertop has seen better days, you may wish to consider tiling it. This is a surprisingly affordable venture, particularly if you can do it yourself. Lots of arborite countertops have a little 'lip' at the outer edge, which you will probably have to plane down to create a smooth and square surface in preparation for the tile. You can also eliminate the old countertop and change it with 3/4 plywood (have it specifically cut to fit), then tile on that. There are so many lovely tiles to pick from, that the possibilities are unlimited. Look at all the various sizes of tile, too. Individuals frequently consider the tiny tiles, or the 4" tiles, for a countertop, however you can go much larger. There is a special grout to use for counter tops, so be sure to tell your seller what your job is. Utilizing a thin grout line will make a genuine distinction.Lots of people have effectively painted their tile. The bathtub can be painted, too - there's a service that specializes in this, so inspect your local documents. Changing the countertop, sink, toilet, tub, or fixtures will truly enhance the appearance of the bathroom.Shelving can make a tremendous difference in the feel of you home if space is a concern. Examine your closets to see if there's an area at the really leading where a shelf could be included. That's normally wasted space, and you might save your 'opposite season' clothing up there. Can you construct racks into your pantry to make more space for canned items? Stackable baskets and boxes are useful for saving all the extra little things that trigger mess around your house. There are great deals of shelving 'sets' on the market, now. They are typically less pricey than purchasing all the products to build your own racks, so inspect these out.A basic method to change the look and feel of your home is to reorganize the furnishings. Sounds painfully simple, but it can breathe new life into a room.Significant renovationsIf you race through a job, you'll have lots and lots of time afterward to look at all the errors. If you have the walls and the floors on the very same list, do the walls first - it'll be less demanding when the paint splashes!If it's a substantial remodeling job, think about how you will cope with all the mess. Do you have an alternate place where you can live during the renovations? How about a little location of your home that you can keep as a sanctuary? Give this some major thought prior to you start. It can be unexpected how tough life can be during a reno project. If you happen to have a home trailer, this is most likely a good time to 'camp out', if only for a little break from the turmoil.

[switchmoviefes]

Easy Renovations for Your Home

The secret is to prepare the task out in advance, work with the ideal people, allot the proper quantity of time, and plan for delays. Attempt not to make the completion date correspond with your birthday or anniversary.

Do not impose an amount of time on yourself or your professional that will create tension. At the same time, get a clear understanding of the length of time the task will most likely take, and when it will begin. If it is a 3 month task and the work will not start until November, your home will not be ready for a New Year's celebration, unless you are celebrating Chinese New Year. This is a remarkably common problem - how much time the homeowner believes a task will take and that real work time needed.

There are no professional fairies who can stop in overnight and have the job done by the morning. Have your professional provide a possible time span with the quote.

Have a clear concept of what you desire before your specialist comes over. You do not need to sketch out the modifications, but you should have the ability to inform him or her what modifications you want to see. Many excellent professionals will have done so numerous renos that they will right away know what needs to be done, the approximate expense and time-frame. When a professional tells you that 'the little bathroom' will cost about $3,000, do not believe that your task will secretly only cost about $20, possibly a little less and then be surprised and puzzled when your costs can be found in at $3,000. You 'd be surprised how many people have ideas like that. Attempt not to fall into this trap, or to believe that any modifications you make as soon as the job has started will not impact the price or the amount of time of a project. Constantly get written quotes for any work you are having done, that way you will both be clear about the expectations for the task.

If you are stuck attempting to determine how to improve a location in your house, think about hiring a designer. Keep in mind that they can work within your budget, however if your budget plan is tight, it is probably much better to invest the assessment fee on new drapes or a toilet. If choice making is a problem area for you, and you can relinquish control, then a designer might be the clear solution. Search the very same way you would for a specialist up until you find someone you are comfortable with, somebody who will listen to what you desire. Remember, it is your home, so do what is right for you. If you say, "Definitely no red" and the designer says you require all red if you are going to be 'cutting edge', then choose another designer - one who is more interested in accommodating your requirements.

Is there a quick fix?

Sometimes there is a quick repair. If you are not handling structural modifications or a complete transformation, then think about a coat of paint, new floor covering, new baseboards, and/or new window treatments. There are lots of things that you can do yourself, now. You might wish to up-date your bathroom or kitchen with brand-new floor covering. There is a new glueless laminate 'wood' floor covering that you can deal with on your own if you are so inclined. A great toss rug can change the look of a room and add brand-new life to an old carpet. Installation of brand-new carpet should be professionally done unless it is a little area and you are skilled at that.

Often a basic change like updating your hardware can make a huge distinction in the total appearance of a room. You might have the ability to paint your kitchen cabinetry if you do not wish to replace it. If you are changing the cabinets, Have a look at your regional hardware stores selection. You can look for cost, accessibility, installation charges, and for some concepts in general that you like. They will provide you with a computer system printout of what your completed cooking area will look like if you arrange to meet a kitchen designer and draw one out together.

If you have an old brick fireplace that you do not care for any longer, or desire to provide it a fresh appearance, consider painting it. This is not a crime. Painted brick can look great!

You can likewise put a marble tile (slate works well, too) around the fireplace. Utilize the appropriate tile adhesive (ask at the store) and select a great grout.

While you are looking at the fireplace mantels, look for the 'fireplace over mantels'. You can have mirror customized cut to fit in the center and make your home look amazing, darling!

Changing the lighting can develop a whole brand-new appearance in your house. Changing the light switches and change plates can make a substantial distinction, too.

Doors have a big effect on how a home looks. You can get the glass with many different looks if privacy is a concern. If your budget plan will allow, consider altering all the doors to the brand-new white colonial design - that looks great in simply about every house.

Changing your front door can offer the house a genuine boost and probably include a bit of security, too, considering that many of the new doors are made of steel. If you are trying to make the task as easy as possible, consider using rosettes for the corners, then all the cuts will be straight ones.

Changing out the garage doors in an older home to update the exterior appearance of your home is a fantastic idea. Altering out the garage doors can create an amazing brand-new appearance for your house.

Did you understand that you can paint your home appliances? It works, too. You can employ a painting service to do this if you are fretted about the outcome. If you are getting brand-new cooking area cabinets, you can buy matching covers for the devices. Ask at the cabinet place for details to see if that is practical in your kitchen. Often your best option is just to bite the bullet and buy new appliances. My preferred new home appliance is the upright freezer. I am putting one in the brand-new house. It appears like a refrigerator-- some the same height and nearly the exact same size, and some a little much shorter. You can organize to have the door open from the left, if you have the refrigerator and upright freezer side by side, so access is even much easier. Anyhow, it saves 'losing' all those items at the bottom of a routine freezer that you cannot remember and discover a couple of years later. Likewise, there are some really cool brand-new small appliances that will add more efficiency to your kitchen area. There is a roasting oven that simply plugs in and sits on your countertop - fantastic for huge supper events when you might utilize another oven.

If you have a little area with a closet (front entry, bedroom), think about altering the routine doors to mirrored doors. That opens a room and provides more light, quickly.

You can make them out of crown molding if you like the wooden look, or you can develop them out of plywood, cover with cotton batting, then material to fit your room, and staple them at the back. The relatively new wrought iron drape rods with all the cool accessories are really appealing, too. Tie-backs can make a real distinction, too, so have a wee appearance at them.

Furnishings plays a key function in the look of your home. There are some gorgeous slip covers readily available, if you do not wish to change your additional comfy things! You might attempt your hand at reupholstering your furnishings. It is not as hard as it looks, but it does take time and skill, however if you are a prepared individual and strategy it thoroughly, it ought to work out all. Get a staple weapon to make the job a little much easier.

Perhaps you are in the market for a new headboard? You can make your own out of a great door, with an even pattern, some great crown molding, and some legs. You can acquire these at any lumber store. Turn it on its' side to create the appearance you seek.

If you 'd like a softer headboard, attempt covering a sheet of plywood with a reasonable little padding, then cover with material and staple. If it is huge enough, you may be able to just sit it behind the head of the bed, or you can connect it to the frame.

Let go of your old concepts about painting wooden furnishings - it can really bring it into today. If you are painting a hutch, remember to paint the interior to keep it looking light. Including additional lighting is easy with the new 'stick on lights' readily available at routine retail outlets. Smear Vaseline on the windows of the system before you paint it to make tidy up faster and much easier.

You can replace the hardware, too, or paint that. If you want to be adventurous, you might tile the top of your cabinets and end tables with a good marble or ceramic tile.

New bedding can alter the feel of a bedroom. Attempt including a duvet cover over an old comforter for a various look. You can get coordinating pillowcases, too, that will really finish the look.

If your restroom needs an up-date, a coat of paint might suffice. Many individuals have successfully painted their tile. Ask your seller what type of paint and complete you will require for this. The bathtub can be painted, too - there is a service that specializes in this, so check your local documents. Tub surrounds are not a bad concept if there is no water damage on the walls. Tiling is constantly a great choice. If you are doing it yourself, and you must take apart the existing walls, keep in mind to use water resistant drywall prior to you finish the wall surface. Changing the countertop, sink, toilet, tub, or components will really enhance the appearance of the restroom. Call a professional before you get in too deep, though.

Shelving can make a remarkable difference in the feel of you home if area is a problem. Check your closets to see if there is a space at the really leading where a shelf could be included. That is usually squandered space, and you could keep your 'opposite season' clothing up there. Can you build shelves into your pantry to make more space for canned products? Stackable baskets and boxes are useful for storing all the extra little things that trigger mess around your house. There are lots of shelving 'sets' on the marketplace, now. They are typically less costly than purchasing all the products to develop your own racks, so check these out.

A basic method to alter the look and feel of your home is to reorganize the furnishings. Sounds painfully simple, but it can breathe brand-new life into a room.

Significant Restorations

Normally, major remodeling would encompass remodeling a portion of your home or the whole thing. The crucial things to remember is not to get in unfathomable. An extremely typical problem is taking on more than you can chew, normally right after watching your preferred restoration program on television! It constantly takes way longer to do a remodeling than what is accomplished with the magic of TV. For one, they have all sort of professional help, and keep in mind how the cam carefully prevents any close-up shots of the ended up work. If you race through a job, you will have lots and lots of time afterward to look at all the errors. Take your time, prepare it out carefully, and do one area at a time. Sounds obvious, however it is remarkably easy to begin ripping out all the stuff you do not like, then realize later that it takes forever to really repair any given location. Much better to choose what needs to be done, write out a list, then focus on. If you have the walls and the floors on the very same list, do the walls first - it will be less difficult when the paint splashes!

If it is a substantial improvement task, consider how you will cope with all the mess. Do you have an alternate place where you can live throughout the restorations? How about a little area of your house that you can keep as a sanctuary? Give this some severe thought before you start. It can be unexpected how challenging life can be during a reno job. If you happen to have a house trailer, this is most likely a good time to 'camp out', if only for a little break from the turmoil.

[feitclub]

In The Cards

It all started with James Bond, the arbiter of worldliness and all things cool when I was just a kid stuck in suburbia. The movies were frequently shown on TV and I made it a point to watch them all over and over again. One of my early favorites was Live and Let Die: the theme song kicked ass, it was Roger Moore's first film so he would never look more handsome, and the movie was full of straight-up magic. The bad guys have a fortune teller on their side, and she can seemingly see everything James Bond will do, even from a great distance. The key to her abilities, aside from her being a virgin (which Bond *ahem* takes care of) was her use of tarot cards. Drawing randomly from this special deck of cards, she could literally see the past, the present, and the future.

I had never heard of tarot cards before but I knew I wanted them. I could not have been older than 12.

When I got my hands on a deck, likely from a book store at the mall, there was an instant level of disappointment. The tarot cards in the Live and Let Die had a very specific look to them, and I had presumed that was just how all tarot cards would look. The deck which I bought (received? I don't remember if my parents were in on this) looked different. All the cards were there, but the art I had expected was not. The biggest difference that stood out to me was the "Death" card: in Live and Let Die that card has a super badass drawing of Death-incarnate wearing a suit of armor while riding a Pale Horse as all manner of human beings knelt or simply fell before him. In my deck, Death looked like a cartoon skeleton without clothes or a horse as he literally reaped the grass with a scythe. I am not here to judge aesthetics, but if you see something in a movie and you end up buying something else, especially as a kid, that's not going to sit right.

(I have tried to use modern search engine tools to discover what kind of deck I had: it was easy to figure out that Live and Let Die used a kind of Rider-Waite-Smith deck, but I think I might have ended up with a variant on a Marseilles deck - exactly which variant, I could not say)

Artistically it was a let down but the appeal of the tarot cards only increased as I learned more about them. First, I discovered that the deck was huge with 78 different cards: the big-picture cards that were featured in the film with names like "The Lovers" and "The Fool" were part of the Major Arcana, but there was also a full set of Minor Arcana which resembled playing cards: four suits, lots of numbers, and several face cards. Secondly, every card had two different "readings," depending on which direction the card faced when drawn.

78 cards, all with two different meanings, meant memorization. As a kid, I was all about memorization. In elementary school my friend Sasha and I tried to memorize the Periodic Table and I think we made it to the lanthanides. When I discovered the joy of watching professional sports, I made a point of memorizing all the teams - by division - in all four major sports leagues. Then I started memorizing the championship winners (and the runners-up) of each major sports league for the last ten years...then the last 20. These tarot cards were going to be my new thing, I could feel it.

I started carrying the cards with me wherever I went. As a kid in school this was easy since I always had a backpack on so the size of the cards meant nothing. Sasha and I (we had watched Live and Let Die together, so this became a team obsession) each had our own deck and we both would take turns drawing cards and looking them up in the little booklet that came in the box. I can remember taking them with us on a school trip to Boston and when we weren't in awe of the historical sights (do I need to tell you we were both nerds?) we kept up our tarot studies while walking around town. On one occasion, just as we drew a card and the booklet said it meant "danger," a car honked its horn at us. We were walking in the middle of the street! Clearly, the magic was real.

The tiny booklet also included a recommended layout when "reading" the cards. The lady in the movie just turned them over one at a time and everything made sense to her, but instead these instructions had us laying out ten different cards in a pattern where each card has a different relationship to the reader. Today I can tell you this pattern is called a "celtic cross" and it is only one of many, many shapes and patterns that can be used, but preteen me did not have that information. I had clear directions: to read the cards I had to flip over ten of them and explain them all.

Before I knew it, before either of us were really ready to be doing anything like this, I remember both of us became tarot card readers at our synagogue for a Purim festival. At the time I didn't think anything was weird, but in hindsight I am impressed that no one raised an objection to kids bringing such a thing into the synagogue so we could be fortune tellers. I should say that we were members of a Reform Temple and I cannot recall ever hearing words like "blasphemy" or "occult" used by our rabbi or anyone else in authority; it stood in contrast to all those self-described Christians I would see on TV who were mad about evolution being taught in schools, talking animals existing as characters in children's books, or anything else we might read in a Chick Tract (which come to think of it, we also discovered around this time while riding Metro-North trains into New York City).

My tarot reading habit did not last; Sasha and I had a falling out of sorts and other things just became more important than these strange cards. My deck sat on a shelf in my room for years until I moved out of my childhood home. I cannot say for certain but it more than likely did not leave with me. But my curiosity surrounding the tarot would linger in my mind and resurface soon enough just as my next big obsession would come along and reveal itself to be tarot-adjacent: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure.

When I discovered JoJo via a fan-subtitled bootleg VHS in the late 1990s, I had no idea the six episodes of anime I just saw covered only one small part of an ongoing (to this day!) manga. The story, as presented on the tape, started in the middle of the action. A lot of it did not make sense, but I latched onto one element right away: every character had superpowers which were embodied - literally - in a spiritual version of themselves on screen and all these alter-egos had tarot-related names: Star Platinum. Hierophant Green. THE WORLD. There wasn't much connection between the card names and the powers they possessed, but it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. If I had still owned a deck I might have started imagining other powers for the other cards not shown on screen (not knowing that they were all represented in some fashion in the original manga).

Leap forward another - gosh, twenty years? - and my tarot fascination never really went away. When I see a Kickstarter or an Etsy page for a new take on tarot cards, I often take a peek at what ideas are on display. A lot of them are just...porn-y. Some are cute. But I'm old(er) now, I don't have the raw enthusiasm I did when I was in 7th grade and the prospect of magic playing cards just made perfect sense. I see daily horoscopes on Japanese TV which I recognize aren't "real," how could I scoff at one kind of fortune telling and then pick up a deck of tarot cards?

Except...who cares if it's "real." What does it matter if these cards are, ultimately, a random assortment of quality art? It's been three entire decades since I first saw them and I'm still deeply intrigued. Part of being old(er) is coming to terms with your own tastes and biases; I no longer need to apologize or feel shame for liking old pop songs or macho action movies and if I've always had a feeling that tarot cards are cool, that feeling is correct.

There's also the feeling that I know so little about tarot cards that I cannot possibly pass judgement on people who use them. I recently started testing a Body Positivity mobile app that uses tarot cards as a means to spark self-reflection and, well, body positivity. The tarot cards in the app are not "real," they're not even physical. They're just drawings on a screen. But the drawings are nice, and if flipping a virtual card over can have a real impact on my own mind, who's to say what flipping real cards over could do?

Even though I felt a need to write all this down, I'm not actually seeking permission here. I already made up my mind and bought a brand-new deck of tarot cards. It's here, next to me. I’ve opened them. I try to draw a few cards whenever I have a chance, but I don't know where this reignited interest will take me. Will I start memorizing them all, again? Will I have another car-honking-its-horn-at-me moment? Maybe I'll just enjoy them aesthetically (they are very nice-looking if I may say so). I don't know what will come next any more than these cards do, but I know I like having them here and I want to know more. At the very least, tarot cards have already taught me an important lesson: I know better than to try and read them while walking in the middle of the road.

---- I shared this story with my Patreon supporters before posting it publicly. Want to help me write more things? Join today: patreon.com/feitclub Ko-fi works too: ko-fi.com/feitclub

[fallingin-like]

november 5

paper skies by @allforthebee [requested by @annawrites]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is a fic with absolutely amazing descriptions and imagery. featuring librarian!andrew and a lot of introspection. the writing is so beautiful, i could not possibly capture how it made me feel in words. this fic was so so good.

this fic is so beautiful. i was intrigued by what you meant by it being a love letter to Bluets but now i understand. i’ve started to read a free preview of Bluets (on google books) and i think i’m falling in love with it too. it’s the kind of book that you need a physical copy of. i immediately looked up where i could purchase a copy. the cover is so nice (i’m seeing the one that’s all blue with the square in the middle) i was disappointed that none of the stores within a reasonable distance stock this. i think i love the colour blue too. it seems everytime i read something about it, i feel it. this fic, Bluets, and one other fic, “where everything is good”. it also seems to fit andrew well.

parts that i especially liked (it’s almost embarrassing that i’m almost quoting the whole fic):

”he stares at the seam for a moment, before deciding he likes it. he makes a mental note to tell bee. she likes when he tells her things like that.” i like that this version of andrew lets himself like things. i like that he knows bee well enough to know what she likes and i like that he wants to do things that he likes. i especially like that he acknowledges that he is capable of doing things that other people like. sometimes i find that people in the fandom (myself included) are guilty of forgetting that andrew experiences emotion. that he experienced it before meeting neil and he experiences it after (even when neil is not around). it makes me feel like this is a softer version of andrew, but i realise that this is just andrew. we don’t know what he’s thinking during the series but even though he doesn’t emote often, he must have thoughts like these.

”he doesn’t understand why books aren’t organized by colour. andrew could tell more about a book by the dye of its sleeve than the content of its pages.” can you imagine? this would make a library so beautiful. i really like this

”he moves onto fiction, starting with z because sometimes going backwards is less overwhelming.” YEs

”he doesn’t trust the blues that can’t decide whether or not they want to be blue. they leave behind a residue, and andrew feels the weight of them long after he’s washed his hands” the way you describe this is so good. i feel this even if i don’t fully understand it

”he’s not the type to have a collection of blue coloured things at home, but if he sees a particularly striking bouquet of forget-me-nots, or the rough swells of cobalt sea, he’ll pause and allow himself the moment to exist” this feels very much like andrew. i love the last part of this. i think i need to practice this as well, seeing something that is lovely and pausing and allowing myself the moment to exist.

”because, in the twenty-six years andrew had been alive, he’d come to find that blues hurt the most. because, in a world that insists nothing meant anything unless you let it, andrew had been quick to learn everything meant something whether you want it to or not.” this makes me hurt, too. sometimes things are too beautiful, you love too much, you let yourself fear, and it hurts more for it. the wording of this is so nice.

“post-google dust rises from the shelf, and andrew makes a face” this is a great example of the amazing humour that you incorporate in this fic. it’s funny and lightens the fic, but doesn’t feel out of place.

”three years ago, andrew sat across the table from a boy who looked just like him, only to walk out and leave him behind” i really really like the way you wrote this, but i can’t describe it. the words you chose are perfect.

”he didn’t know how disappointing andrew could be” oh no andrew. (but also, this hits a bit different bc it’s too close to what my own inner monologue sounds like sometimes. it makes me feel exposed and raw and also not as alone as i previously felt)

”oh, andrew thought. this is what blue feels like” THIS HURTS.

”and so he bounced from house to house, painting himself with bruises, in the hopes that he would find someone out there who loved the colour blue” ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHhhh

”if someone tears a line into their carpet and no one is there to witness it, does it still hurt?” if someone tears lines into themselves and no one is there to witness it, does it still hurt? (i do not know the answer to this.)

”he starts to fidget when he stays in one place for too long, like he’s afraid his bones will sprout leaves if he’s rooted in one place” i don’t want be too bold in my interpretations of your work, but to me this feels like something andrew has learned from his time as a child. the longer he stays in a home, the deeper his roots are, the more hopeful he becomes, the more it hurts when he is forced to move.

i love your descriptions of the sky. they’re gorgeous.

”there’s a song in his head, but he doesn’t remember the words” i really like that you added this sentence.

”summer lightning shatters the sky, and andrew shivers electric blue” this imagery is amazing. you have such a way with words that something so simple has such impact

this concept of the difference between liking things that don’t change vs things that stay the same. i see myself in this. ever since i was a child, i’ve been very resistant and afraid of change. i think i do prefer things that don’t change, but i’ve never thought about it this much.

”after all, if all you’ve ever known is change, then that’s staying the same, no? and, from what you’ve told me, blue is always changing.” oh

”andrew’s mouth goes a little slack. pretty.” THIS MAKES ME FEEL SO SOFT.

i cannot believe that neil walks in, andrew immediately thinks he’s pretty, then absolutely refuses to respond to him. what an icon

”there’s intent in labels, and andrew doesn’t want for anything” ahhh

ANDREW STAMPS THE SAME CARD FIVE TIMES

“neil josten, he mouths, tasting sea water” i read this and just marvel for the thousandth time at how good you are at writing

”andrew debates painting the walls with blue glitter-glue” CAN YOU IMAGINE. ANDREW ON A LADDER PAINTING THE WALLS WITH BLUE GLITTER

”i’m pretty sure i learned the alphabet in kindergarten” neil, you’re killing me.

andrew’s library must be so beautiful! it has stained glass? amazing.

”makes me feel like more than i am” this is how this fic makes me feel.

SORRY ANDREW PUSHES NEIL AROUND ON HIS CART THAT’S SO ADORABLE

can you believe that andrew kept neil’s license in his pocket for WEEKS. he must have changed pants during that time and just, ‘whoop gotta bring neil’s id bc what if he visitssss’

i can’t believe that you forced me to look at the standard error of regression slope and standard error of difference of sample means with my own eyes. what terrible formulae. i like math, but these are really just The Worst

”andrew’s world has been reduced to a rainbow pack of post-it notes, and somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to miss blue”

”andrew feels raw, like a blossoming bruise. he gets this way after his sessions with bee. the truth is a dirty fighter, and it leaves him ugly and sore for days. he should’ve known blue always comes back” there are no words that exist that i could use to sufficiently respond to this. i can only say that this is so special, these are the kinds of sentences that stay with you

”they stay like that for a while, neil kissing away the taste of blue until andrew’s left tasting bright orange” !!!

did you know, my favourite type of gummy bear is the blue ones?

i love the integration of quotes from the book into this fic. they work very well in separating the fic in sections and help establishing the tone. there are so many good quotes/numbers in Bluets, i’m curious how you chose which to include? and of these, how did you choose what part of each number to use? 

this fic is amazing. i’ve read it before in the past and now that i’m coming back to comment on it, i do not know why i have never commented before. this is something special. you have humour that fits so well with your style of writing. you make writing seem so easy, it’s as if the words have always existed and just needed to be written down. what a pleasure to read. my brain is not good at producing imagery while i read, but it seemed like i watched this fic play out instead of reading it. everything is so vivid and realistic and you pick out just the right details, you add just the right sentence. it makes me more aware of what i am feeling and the absence of feeling (i repress a lot of emotions lol) this fic makes me want so bad. this is the kind of fic that i will think about long after i have read it. it’s so raw and intense and real and it feels very true to andrew.

one of my favourite parts of this fic is how you use your word choice, tone, pacing, and quotes. you are a very skilled writer. when i read this everything around and inside of me goes quiet.

thank you so much for writing this.

[rueitae]

Roommates in Disguise - Chapter 7

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901668/chapters/47374489

For this evening's meal, a healthy portion of angst with a side of emotional hurt/comfort. For dessert, absolute blind idiocy. 

Thank you again to the monumental efforts of our beta @whyamistillhungry and for the truly beautiful art that @mybluelionlancylance provided for us: https://mybluelionlancylance.tumblr.com/post/186452499757/this-is-art-for-the-plance-mini-bang

@fallen-angel-nightshade brings you chapter 8 tomorrow.

~~~~~~

The ground greeted his forearms with shuddering thud, the impact tingling through his elbows and up his arms. His shoulders gave out, strength zapped from the hour of fighting. Lance dropped and rolled onto his back. One of these days he was going to break an arm if he didn’t stop bracing his falls. 

No time now. Lance yelped, scrambling out of the way of the green laser. At least Haxus, Throk, and the Galra Specials were leaving him alone, hopefully grateful enough that he was doing their job protecting civilians and Galra Corp property.

Weeks later and Lance found that he and Katie were no safer from Pidge than when they first escaped the house. Worse, he couldn’t help but feel as if they played directly into her hands. 

Pidge had saved the photo of his family from the apartment fire and somehow had snuck past Katie’s surveillance to deliver it to him. He was grateful, but… couldn't help but feel threatened despite the note. She was either flaunting her position or… genuinely sympathized with him.

He needed to determine which it was.

Ice welled up in his fingertips in panic, begging for release. It wasn’t painful - it never had been - but the guidance was strong, as if it had a mind of its own. 

An icy overhang came forth and shielded him from rubble as the laser hits the brick wall of the neighborhood bakery. 

Lance laid the back of his head to the sidewalk, closing his eyes in exhaustion, chest rising and falling in exaggeration. Hunk was going to be so upset when he next visited - that was his favorite place. 

“You can’t run and hide forever, Icicle-breath!” 

Lance stilled, wheezing in a hopeless attempt to get his breathing under control. The Green Starling still pursued him through the downtown area. His fingers curled around a flash drive in the palm of his hand. She must really want it.

So under no circumstances could he let her have it. He doesn’t know why she wanted it so badly, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for him or the city. 

His ice covered legs seek purchase with the concrete as her machine (redesigned from the ashes with four legs now instead of eight) heavily stepped ever closer, bits of concrete flying out from beyond the alley he’d just come from. He slipped once - twice - before finally standing, palms growing wet and cool before he released a beam of ice, skating away as the machine turns the corner.

His heart pounded loudly in his ears, but it's not enough to ignore the destruction that followed him.

Green lasers shot past him, the bursts of heat nearly unbearable. Lance clenched his teeth, digging deep into his core for more power. It responded, blasting out of his palms and encasing the entire width of the road in ice. He needed to find proper cover and escape ten minutes ago, he couldn’t keep up this chase forever. 

He slid for several minutes, unable to pull back the intensity of his ice blasts under threat of slowing down. Running on solid ground meant the Green Starling caught up to him for certain. 

The supermarket was the last large building in the downtown area, separating it from one of the larger residential districts - where his apartment used to be. He squeezed the flash drive, just to remind himself he had it firmly in his grasp. Never again would he bring a fight - and fight was a very loose term for what this was - to where people were living and hiding. His carelessness had nearly gotten his own neighbors killed, just as it killed his family. Lance would not make the same mistake again.

Glass windows extend the length of the entrance side of the building and Lance couldn’t see anyone working. Deserted, good.

Laser fire tears up the asphalt in front of him. Lance screams and falls to his behind, a fresh wave of pain traveling up his boney butt into his thighs. He clenched his teeth and sucked in breath, holding back a cry that might be more satisfying - had Pidge not been right there. 

Her mechanical marvel punctuated its presence through an abandoned car at the edge of the parking lot. Lance growled, gathering what power he had left and concentrating it in the palm of his hand. The beam of ice hit the machine’s newest addition, a force field bubble. As before, it melted near instantaneously, his heart freezing instead. The water slid off, and Starling had full view within seconds. 

“Hand over the flash drive, Icebound,” she said, dangerously serious today. “You don’t know what you have.” 

“I know enough,” he shot back. “I won’t let you use this to hurt innocent people.” 

Ice tingled at his fingertips, fully anticipating an angry reaction. Starling’s surprised gape quickly turned into a furious snarl. “It has nothing to do with you or the city. Give. It. To. Me.”

He had no reason to believe her. No reason to think she wasn’t lying - although - had she ever lied to him? She’d let hostages free when he’d asked and - 

Lance couldn’t take that chance right now. 

“No,” he whispered and directed a weak ice beam directly for her. Not waiting to watch her wipe it off the force field, he jumped to his feet and made a mad dash for the grocery store. 

The automatic glass doors opened for Lance as he dove headfirst into the store, barely turning in time for his back to take the brunt of the landing against a cashier’s shelf. He wasn’t safe yet. After hardly a moment of rest, fear seized his heart as he watched a grey four-door sedan fly through the air directly towards him. 

It crashed through the glass before he had time to scream, and only just managed to shield his head lamely with his arms. The car slammed into the top of the shelf, just above his curled up form, so close that the exhaust pipe scraped across his icy scalp. Lance breathed a sigh of relief, he’d survived another attack!

Out of his peripheral vision, the remainder of the shelf began to tip, falling onto him with a thud. Lance yelps out more in surprise than pain, the layer of ice that surrounded his body taking the brunt of the impact. 

Out of power and nearly out of breath, Lance pushed with all his might to slide the shelf off his lower body. Stuck. 

The Green Starling approached slowly, purposefully. The mech came to a halt at the threshold of the store, digging its long legs into the concrete, rooting it in place. The carriage lowered to ground level, and the villainess herself stalked towards him, her face full of ra-- 

Not full of rage. Full of fear? Does she have a conscience after all?

It both relaxed his muscles in relief, but also struck fear into his heart. She had no problem taking hostages, no problem causing mayhem - but moments like this… Lance knew there was something more to her. 

But the flash drive… he couldn’t let her get it. Not until he knew for sure why she saved his family photograph, how she’d known exactly what was most important to him amid the growing flames.

“You’re making this too easy, Icebound,” Pidge said. Her use of his actual hero name unsettled him, his fingers becoming clammy and twitchy. 

She held her approach, extending an arm out not to take his, but release hundreds of tiny robots. They scurried from under her sleeve, down her legs and across the floor. They swarmed him, tiny metallic legs tapping sharply on his bare skin between his ice armor. 

“Call them - OW - off, Pi - OW!” Lance yelps as his body lurched involuntarily at every pinch.

“Not until you give me the flash drive,” she insisted. Her gaze was dark, far from the delighted smirks typical of their battles. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Lance hissed as the bots find themselves in places even he doesn’t venture often. “You have a really funny way of showing it,” he glared back. “Is that what you meant when you gave back Lance’s picture?”

Her mouth took a hard line. “I meant what I meant in the note.”

“Whatever your plan is, leave him and Katie out of it.” He winced, catching the nanobots pinching at his skin out of the corner of his eye.

Pidge grinned. “It seems to be working, a constant threat over the head of a close friend. I appreciated your absence last week.”

Lance growled, throwing all of his defiance and frustration her way.

She bent her knees, squatting beside him. “We can end this the hard way or the easy way,” she said close to his ear - so reminiscent of when she took Lance captive, but so much more sinister. “If you don’t make up your mind in the next five seconds, I’m paying the house a visit.”

Protect the city. Protect Katie.

Like a light switch, ice coursed through his veins, fast as lightning. Lance heard every crackle and felt raw power in every inch of his body. Lance gasps, the influx of raw power too sudden. Ice flowed out of his eyes, threatening to snap his goggles off. 

He couldn’t let that happen. The only thing worse than Pidge using the information on this flash drive was seeing a piece of his true identity. Now that she stalked Lance, Pidge was too smart not to make the connection.

So he let it all go free. 

All the weight on him - the shelf, nanobots, and even his own weight - fly up in a burst of power unlike he’s ever felt before. With a flick of a finger, an ice shard shot from his fingers and imbedded into the far wall. It exploded, bringing down nearly the entire length of the building. Large pieces of the roof crumbled down on top of the concrete. 

A knot twisted in his stomach in realization. He’d never had an attack that powerful before. 

And it terrified him.

He dropped to the ground, barely letting his knees and hands catch him, breath heavy and veins warming. Having superpowers was amazing and Lance had been utterly gleeful to play hero at first, but this… this was something beyond what he needed. It was as if he was just starting to learn to use his powers all over again, the family van turning a corner and--

What were the Galra scientists up to in that lab?

Pidge groaned. Her gloved hands stuck out from under a pile of rubble. Right. Hero time. Experience drove his feet to run. The frostbite was already receding from his fingertips, and the rest of his armor would soon follow. Pidge would be after him in no time and he was vulnerable. 

But he could still get this flash drive back to Galra Corp. Surely it was the plans for the city reconstruction project they’d been talking about on the news. Pidge could cause havoc with them. 

“You won’t get far! Stop right there!” Pidge demanded.

Lance huffed. Running was... very hard right now. His vision blurred, and in a lapse of concentration, he tripped over himself. Cool air pricked at his skin. His body had miraculously found the frozen foods section. 

He scrambled to his feet and ripped open a door. The cold presence was soothing and tiny crystals formed over his skin once more as his fingers laced the cold metal shelves. Invigorated, he clenched his teeth and shot a blast towards the corner of the aisle, just as Pidge rounded it to face him. 

He kept one hand in the freezer, the other pointed at Pidge with icy energy glowing around it. So they stood in a standoff, tension thick enough Lance could bite through.

“I am not in the mood to kid around anymore,” she snarls first. “I need that information. I’ll ask one last time.” Pidge holds out her hand, expectantly. “Give it to me.”

Lance could see his breath out in front of him, the foggy mist growing thick with each fast breath. He needed to be careful with his next move. 

“We can’t keep doing this, Pidge,” he said. “Please stop. You’ve listened to me before, listen to me now.”

Pidge unholstered a blaster, a smaller and less powerful version of the laser on her riding robot, and pointed the barrel at him from down the aisle. “I will wait here all day if I have to. You’re running out of juice. Give it up.”

Lance bit his lip. She was right, it was only a matter of time before even the cold of the freezer failed to chill his core and his identity would be exposed. 

He couldn’t stay, he couldn’t flee, and he couldn’t hand over the information to Pidge. 

He hoped the Galra Corp executives would forgive him considering the circumstances. 

Lance holds the flash drive up high. “If you want this so bad, you can have it!” Ice spread across his arm from the freezer and up into his opposite hand and also the flash drive. 

Pidge inhaled sharply and clasped the gun with both hands, holding it high. “Don’t you dare!”

Blood pumped fast through his rapidly beating heart. Whatever happened to him, the city would be safe. 

The device crumbled in his hand. 

He let the broken pieces fall to the ground. Relief in keeping the city safe for a while longer lasted only a moment. Pidge’s face contorted into something of horror, her eyes wide and hands shaky. Her mouth wobbled, as if she couldn’t find the words to say. 

The words she chose he did not expect. 

“M-matt.” Her eyes welled with tears, arms dropping limply to her sides. 

Everything about her made Lance’s stomach twist into a knot. This was not the reaction to a plan gone awry. 

What had he done?

Lance does nothing as Pidge stumbled forward and dropped to her knees. She picked up the tiny pieces of the hard drive one by one, repeating no, no, no, over and over with the most desperate voice he had ever heard her utter.

His mouth was dry, Lance realized. He was gaping at the scene in front of him - the scene that was his fault. He had really messed up, hadn’t he?

“Pidge, I-” he started to apologize.

The Green Starling stood in a flurry, gun aimed at his chest. The rage on her snarled face struck more fear in his heart than any fight they’d had. 

“How could you? I could have found him.” she accused. Her hands shook, finger wobbling dangerously over the trigger. 

Lance raised his hands. He had to be non threatening. If she pulled the trigger he and the entire store would go up in flames. “Pidge put down the gun. You’re - you’re not - I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I told you it was harmless! You didn’t believe me!” she yelled, adjusting her grip on the gun - aimed for his face now.

All reason flew out the window. “Of course I didn’t! You’re always trying to kill me for interfering in your schemes. Galra Corp is working hard to make our city the best and - “ 

“Galra Corp is a lie!” Pidge interrupted. “They have you and everyone in this stupid city fooled. Do you ever even stop to think about how you got your powers? About why Galra Corp even had those kinds of chemicals on hand?”

Lance frowned. Despite the few bad apples within security at Galra Corp, he’d always held the scientists and executives in high regard. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation,” he said lamely. Deep inside, her words struck a chord of doubt. 

Despite the media’s glowing praise and all the good they’ve done for the city, their willingness to cover up for their disruptive security force was troubling.

Was his entire existence as a hero a lie? 

Pidge laughs humorlessly. “Of course you’d think so.” She clenches her teeth on her lip. “You ruined my best chance in-” she sniffed, body trembling on the verge of tears and her voice lumpy, full of sobs. She pinched her eyes shut. When she opened them, Lance was greeted to fire and anger. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

None. Pidge was the villain and he was the hero. Heroes were the ones with morals, not villains. Pidge just destroyed everything to get what she wanted - 

But she never killed anyone. 

“Because you’ve never killed anyone in your path,” he repeated out loud. The revelation opened his mind, recalling new details to their fights. “Even when you took m-Lance hostage - you were never going to hurt anyone. You never do. It’s always,” Lance dropped his arms in shock, “it’s always Galra Corp.”

Pidge shook, red in the face with rage. Her finger squeezed on the trigger and Lance braced for pain or death. 

Instead, Lance is on his back for the fourth time tonight. Ice cream pails piled up around him and the back of the freezer crashed down upon his head. Weakened by the heat of Pidge’s gun, the metal melted. Dazed from the hit, he’s barely conscious his icy power are also melting, along with the ice cream and other frozen novelties - the freezer had become a sauna - and he was trapped. 

And sticky. Oh quiznak not again. Was today only for reliving the day he got his powers?

Pidge’s boots stomped against the upturned freezer, demanding his attention. She leaned in and glared down at him with a surprisingly neutral face. She hadn’t killed him. She hadn’t killed him. 

Yet.

“You’ve got me,” Lance said. Emboldened, it was time to call her bluff. “My powers are fading fast. A few more minutes and you’ll -”

“Stop,” she interrupted. Her hands curled up into a fist. “Don’t - don’t - “ she struggled to find words, eyes shut tight, before her face relaxed. Her eyes open, revealing a quiet shine. “You saved my life at the apartment fire. We’re even now.”

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. 

Her voice hardens again. “But if you ever get in my way again - I won’t hesitate to take you out.”

She left. 

Lance waited until the stomps of her robot were but a whisper in his ear and his icy armor had melted over his skin before wiggling himself out of the sticky mess and climbing out of his prison.

Pidge showed him mercy today. Regardless of her reasons for that and returning his family photo, she’d taken that next step from not harming civilians to sparing his life. 

A grin tugged up on his face. This he could work with. 

~~~~~

Buses and taxis never ran after a fight. Safety reasons, the city council said. Also because roads were impassable. 

So Lance walked, giving him far too much time to contemplate the burst of power he’d experienced back at the grocery store. He shivered at the reminder. The power to overpower a group in a fight was one thing, to destroy half a building was another. He needed to get it under control and find out how it happened, before he became the one who needed to be stopped.

He couldn’t wait to get home and sleep instead.

It was weird to think that it hadn’t been a month and he already considered Katie’s home his own. He’d called the apartment home as well, but really it was only a place to sleep and store his belongings. 

Living with Katie was a fresh start. He had someone to share chores with and appliances that worked without constant maintenance. This gave him more free time to get articles written, and in turn, time for entertainment, which he shared with Katie. 

They’d settled into a routine, practically like a married couple. Unwanted heat invaded his cheeks at the mere thought, at odds with his icy core and making his stomach churn, but a stupid smile wouldn’t come off his face.  Katie worked on her school projects while Lance submitted his work to the paper - perhaps he’d finish this internship with a job after all. Then they’d cook supper and spend the evening watching movies and playing video games, evenings he was finally able to enjoy because the Green Starling had been noticeably less active since the fire. 

Life was good.

Tonight he’d have to turn in early though. Between the chase, the fight, and the walk home, his legs wobbled like jelly and he barely had the strength to lift his arm and turn the doorknob. A warm bed and comfortable pajamas called to him like an angel chorus. 

Sobs greeted his ears instead when he walked across the threshold. 

Katie was sitting on the floor - using the couch as a backrest rather than as intended - next to the now dismantled Mercury Gameflux in front of the television. Her shoulders shuddered with each sniffle, arms wrapped around legs that she held close to her chest and face hidden in her knees. 

Lance had never seen her more devastated. 

He didn’t bother taking off his dusty shoes, even knowing he’d have to clean up the mess later. 

“Katie,” he said hoarsely, heart breaking every second he watched the scene. He rounded the couch and sat next to her on the floor. His arm hovered over her back. 

She looked up at him, her eyes red and brimming with tears. “L-Lance? You’re h-home early?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. On second thought, better to avoid the questions for now. “Obviously something. Let me hug you. You look like you need one right now.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders before she could say no.

Katie hiccuped but doesn’t push him away. “You shouldn’t… I don’t deserve this.”

“My sympathy? My comfort? Katie, you’re my friend.” He held her closer, dangerously nestling his nose into her messy wet hair. Her shampoo gave the fresh scent of spring flowers and Lance pulled away, afraid he might get too comfortable. Katie was upset, he had to focus on that. 

She looked into his eyes, her own carrying emotions he couldn’t quite name, sorrow certainly, anguish, and… guilt?

“But I - “ She stopped herself before speaking further, biting her lips before she found the words she wanted. “I haven’t been a good friend. I haven’t even been a good person to you. I’ve been so wrapped up in looking for my family…” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, lip wobbling. 

Her family, Lance thought in terror, the one he’d promised to help find as a hero and a friend - because he wanted to. 

He removed his arms from her, now it was his turn to be wracked with guilt. He’d been so busy he hadn’t even stopped to consider she was still hurting. She’d probably been working herself thin to make up for the time she’d suffered as a captive. 

“That’s why Iverson told you to lay off the case, I’m such an idiot,” he said, hands clenched.

Katie sucked in a sharp breath.

“I- I should be the one apologizing,” he continues. “I promised to help and here you are trudging on bravely without me. I’m the one who hasn’t been a great friend.”

Katie’s mouth gaped, her eyes wide. “No, Lance that’s not it. You’ve been nothing but helpful. You keep me sane. 

Lance smiled, now he’s getting somewhere. “Tell me what you need. Food? Massage? Silent company?” Feeling impish, his lips curl further up his face. “Someone to kick your butt in Phantasm Melee?”

Katie frowned, and Lance’s gaze fell back into the disassembled Mercury Gameflux. 

He gulped. Good going, Lance. Why don’t you get it over with and actually shoot yourself in the foot. 

“S-Sorry about the system. I had a t-theory with the selfie mechanism to try and s-salvage some information on a corrupt hard drive.” She wiped her tears away with a pajama sleeve. “It didn’t work.”

“Is… that why you’re… ?”

“Upset?” She nodded, her face contorting in anguish. “I had a chance to find my brother today, Lance!” She shouted, sitting up on her knees. “And it was all ruined because of - “ she stopped, arms quaking in rage. 

Guilt gnaws at his stomach. The destruction the fight caused… “Because of Icebound, right?”

Katie’s eyes grow to saucers and her breathing quickened.“H-how did you...?”

“You don’t have to hold back just because he’s my friend,” he said, the lie so easy now after much practice. “There’s a lot of destruction out there. The city will be busy cleaning up for weeks.”

She calmed, the fire in her eyes extinguished in an instant. “Y-yeah,” she said, sitting back on the carpet. 

They sat in silence, thought it’s not comfortable by any means. Katie’s brows furrowed in thought, and Lance couldn’t decide if he should say something or not.

“Lance,” Katie said, breaking the silence with a firm tone. “When the city has to clean up after a battle… do you ever wonder how they repair everything so fast.”

He hadn’t, actually. He was always so busy causing the mess he never thought about the cleanup. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s because Galra Corp lends them resources,” Katie continued without missing a beat. Her eyes grow steely. “Usually money, but also manpower and even experiments still under trial,” she balled her hands into fists, digging into the fabric of her pajamas, “like the one that took my family.”

Like the one that… Lance’s heart breaks. 

He must look it too, because Katie hastily continues, “They’re still alive, I - I think,” she stumbles, eyes fixated on the far wall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - you have it worse. I’m going to get mine back.” Her eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean it like that! Oh quiznak, I’m so sorry.” 

Katie buried her face in her knees. 

Lance is hardly fazed. Rather, guilt eats at him. He did lose his family and he couldn’t get them back no matter what. But though these powers were the hated cause of it, they were also the reason he could protect others - his neighbors at the apartment complex, his classmates, … Katie.

It was fate that had brought them together. He’d find her family using these powers of his so that she wouldn’t share his lonely future. 

He scooted closer to her, shoulders brushing with hers, and lay a hand on her shaking fist. 

She looked him up and down in bewilderment. “Lance? What are you - ?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I promised I’d help you find your family and I haven’t been. From now on,” he said as sincerely as he could muster, raising a hand to swear his oath, “the search for your family has my undivided attention.”

“It-it does?” It’s as if she couldn’t believe it. 

“I know what it’s like, and I don’t want to see you suffer anymore,” he said, but he really begged her forgiveness, for failing to live up to being a hero for her. “Tell me what you need and if it’s in my power, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?” she repeated, almost unsure, a far cry from her typical self. 

Lance nodded. “Anything.” Maybe she’d want some garlic knots, they’d be warm and comforting to him too, and great with lasagna. He could heat up last night’s supper. 

Katie scrunched and twisted her face, as if debating with herself. Lance found he couldn’t look away from her discerning stare. 

“I… have something to tell you, Lance. I haven’t been honest with you and you deserve to know.”

Lance winced. That hit too close to home. He wasn’t ready to tell her, she was still in danger from Pidge. If she knew he was Icebound, she’d become that much more valuable a hostage. By keeping his secret at least he could keep her safe. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he insisted softly, squeezing her hands in comfort. 

Katie relaxed, shoulders slumping in something like relief. “I hate Galra Corp for taking my family from me,” she confessed. “First my mother, sending her on a business trip that she never returned from. Then my father and brother worked longer hours, before suddenly they never came home…” Katie takes a deep breath. “There’s something really going on in there, and sometimes… sometimes I’m happy Green Starling fights with Icebound, because the more resources they spend cleaning up the city to maintain appearances, the fewer resources they have to run questionable experiments. The less likely someone ends up like me.”

Experiments like the one that gave me powers, Lance thinks and supposed that wasn’t a bad wish. Selfish as it was, Katie had a good reason for it. 

They have you and everyone in this stupid city fooled!

Could Pidge actually have a point? 

“What about civilians?” He worried aloud. “People are terrified every day they might get caught in the crosshairs. You aren’t the only one with a family.”

“I know,” Katie snapped quickly, her snarl tickled with familiarity before she sighed, features softening, eyes closed in surrender to his point. “I have a few annoying classmates that might deserve a pounding though,” she finished dryly. 

Lance laughed. “Don’t we all.” His heart welled up with excitement. “There’s this other intern at the paper - we can’t stand each other’s guts. His mullet has this life of its own and I keep sticking office supplies in it. One day,” snort “I put a pencil in it and he still hadn’t realized by the end of the day!”

Katie covered her mouth, but a whine of laughter still escaped, her eyes dancing with mirth where they’d been so angry not even a tick ago. 

“Here I thought you were just this super nice guy,” she said, breaking into another fit of giggle-snorts.

Super is right, Lance thought humorously. “Don’t worry, I’m only terrible to Keith and Pidge.”

Katie frowned, “Pidge? Like when she captured you?”

Panic rose in his chest - was he really going to be this careless? “Of-of course! She - I bet you were a handful for her too. Probably outsmarted her with your own inventions, huh?”

Katie inhaled sharply. “Right!” she said quickly. “She kept me well out of reach of her lab after I modified her nanobots.”

“The ones she stole from you in the first place, right?” He playfully nudges her shoulder with his own. “Pidge isn’t so smart. I bet Icebound will defeat her any day now that she’s cut off from your brain!”

Katie shifted uncomfortably and fear shot through Lance's gut that he’d strayed to the wrong subject again. 

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” she said, almost indignantly. “Pidge is pretty smart on her own, better than me I think.”

Lance pffted. “Please. I’ve seen her bots and yours in action, and yours were way cooler.”

Katie’s cheeks turned light pink, and Lance felt heat rush into his own, heart bubbling with warm happy feelings in the way she took a compliment. 

He was crushing hard and he liked it. 

He coughed. “Can I… get you something to eat? My mom used to make me garlic knots when I was feeling down. I’ve got some in the freezer - they’re not homemade but - “

“It sounds great, Lance.” She smiled for him, warm and fond. 

She had him wrapped around her finger. 

“I’m going to fix the Gameflux,” she continued. “It’s not so far gone we can’t play Melee tonight. I think… that’s just what I need.”

Her smile was perfect, like a sunset on the water.

Lance grinned, heart soaring with delight. “Anything.”

~~~~~

GAME OVER 

Lance let the controller drop to the carpet and leaned back against the couch. “I surrender. Tonight is not my night.”

Katie snickered gleefully and leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. Lance could feel his heart rate skyrocket. 

“You were still out pretty late, and I’ve made you play for hours,” she said ruefully. “I had you at a disadvantage.”

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. He was tired, between the early morning swim meet he’d covered at the high school and the fight with Pidge. 

But Katie needed this and he’d promised. 

“One more round,” he said holding a single finger up, “then I’m calling it a night.”

Katie shrugged, all smiles as she sat up and chose a new arena. “Your loss.”

A quick bite would get him through this. He nabbed the last nugget of garlic knots - (long since cooled off) from the crumb-filled plate in front of them, then went about selecting his fighter for this last round. 

Usually, he was extra careful not to use Chillout - the character with ice powers, afraid it would draw too much attention to himself. But it was late. He doubted Katie would care or notice. 

He yawned as she selected Circuit, the hacker-buffer unit. She self-healed. Lance winced. He could too - well, Chillout could anyway, that was a power he was keen to see if Icebound could unlock. 

This might be a long battle. 

Katie opened with infecting the gun turrets, a common strategy for Circuit. Lance made sure to freeze the one in the bottom left corner. He wasn’t without ideas. 

He made several ice walls along the bottom of the screen, trading blows with Circuit. 

“I dare you to stop and heal,” Katie said. She rolled onto her knees, moving her body in sync with her character. 

“You’re not exactly at full health either,” he countered without looking her way. It was nearly time to spring his trap… just get her a little more to the left and…

He punched the turret he’d turned icy. He spammed the y button - heal, heal, heal, please heal - until the turret exploded. Katie’s character’s health dropped to zero, while Chillout maintained a sliver of it thanks to the constant healing.

GAME OVER 

This time Katie dropped her controller. “Wow,” she said in amazement. “I’ve never seen anyone pull that off with Chillout. He’s definitely your best character. How come you never play him?”

Lance gaped, struggling for an answer. “Well… I just never ��� “

She gasps, eyes wide with fear? Realization? Terror surged through his heart. Had this been the last costly slip up?

“Lance your face! It’s bleeding!” she cried in horror. 

She’s looking at his right side. Lance gently placed his fingertips to his temple. Sure enough, there’s a mix of fresh and dried blood under his hair. 

All he can do is chuckle. He hadn’t done his post fight checkup. He probably had scrapes bleeding under his jeans. “Ha. Well, guess this explains why I’m so tired. You win tonight on account of my blood loss.”

She pointed at him sternly. “You wait right there. Apply some pressure.” Katie grabbed his hand roughly and it sent a flutter in his heart despite himself. She sandwiched her hands around his head, forcing his own hand over the bleed. 

“You’re going to play nurse for me?” He joked with a raised eyebrow as she left the living room. 

“I am if you’re not going to!” She fired back from the bathroom. 

Katie returned with a first aid kit that put his to shame. 

His jaw dropped as she set it down between them and clicked it open, revealing three tiers of triage equipment. Lance whistled. He needed to get himself one of these. 

“Disinfect the thing first,” she said, handing him a bottle of liquid. “I’ll get a headwrap ready. You should probably see a doctor tomorrow.”

Lance groaned and took both the bottle and a cotton swab from her. Though he couldn’t heal himself on demand, he’d be better by morning thanks to his powers. 

The last thing he needed was snooping medical professionals. 

“I’ve had worse,” he made the mistake of saying. “I’ll be fine.” And he told the truth.

But Katie doesn’t know about his powers. 

She gasped. “Worse?” She exclaimed. “Worse than this? What did you do?”

So he told the truth again. 

“I got caught up in a fight with Pidge,” he said, soaking some liquid into the swab. “Total accident. I broke my arm when she first showed up a year ago.” He laughed without humor. He’d not had his powers for long back then. He’d been stupid, arrogant in the days before his family died, and could only type with one hand for a couple of days before his powers started to heal him. It’d been the start of his downward spiral at work - obsessed with figuring out his powers and stopping Pidge like a hero. 

Some hero he was. 

Katie blinked, mouth agape and downcast, looking astonished. She unfurled some bandage wraps, rolling a length of it onto her hand from the roll, hands shaking as she does so. “But Pidge doesn’t hurt anyone. I - I mean she never hurt me, was never cruel. I don’t think she’d break someone’s arm, not in a right state of mind anyway.”

Lance rolled his eyes and winced as he put the alcohol rub to his wound - ouch that hurt. “She seemed pretty happy to rub it in when she captured me,” he hissed.

“Look, I spent a long time with her,” Katie said. “She’s got to look the part and she’s desperate.”

His eyebrow rose. “Desperate? To ruin Galra Corp?”

“Yes,” Katie insists with more confidence than Lance was expecting from a secondhand account.

Lance was tempted to ask why. Katie has been a wealth of information when it came to Pidge, but never had he thought to ask about motivation. 

Why did Pidge hate Galra Corp so much?

Katie sat up and scooted closer on her knees, her face painfully close to his own. She stopped, locking gazes with him for a pregnant pause before reaching around and wrapping his wound tight.

Their cheeks brushed, warmth flowing from her to him. 

“It’s uh, pretty tight,” he said awkwardly. 

She tied it off and backed away with a wry smile. “Sports writers don’t need their brains anyway,” she teased. She frowned, touching his cheek so softly his knees become weak. “Your cheek is cold. You really should rest.”

“I-I will,” he gulped, transfixed by her bright hazel eyes. “Thanks for being such a great nurse.” He winked.

He winked. Lance screamed inside. This wasn’t right. He had a job to protect her, feelings like this would put her in danger and - 

That was the problem. So long as this crush lingered, he was not going to be able to think clearly, compromised by emotions he couldn’t control. 

He might as well act on it. 

Katie snorted. “I don’t have the best bedside manner. I’m going to make you walk to your room.”

“And you could lift me?” He teased. 

“I have robots that could do that,” Katie said. “I’d end up dragging you there.”

Heart in his throat, Lance responded, “maybe I’d like that.”

Of all the stupid flirts that had ever left his mouth.  

Katie was silent for much longer than he liked, her expression unreadable. 

“... I’m not tucking you in.”

Emboldened, he slowly stood. “I won the last game,” he reminded her. 

“Okay,” she said. Her voice was firm, but her eyes seemed as if they were somewhere else. 

“Okay?” He asked, stunned. “I was just joking. If you don’t want to - “

“I do,” She insisted. “It’s the least I can do for you.” Katie took his arm and draped it around her shoulders, squeezing his hand with hers. 

He leaned into her, for the first time since he received his powers, enjoying the warmth of another human being. 

They walked slowly, and Lance was tired and grateful for the support. 

Katie didn’t bother with the lights, and helped him sit on his bed in the cover of darkness. Lance plopped down on top of his covers and closed his eyes, snuggled his head onto his pillow, sighing in contentment. His muscles melted in relief, finally and truly unwinding after a long day.

Katie crossed her arms, skeptical. “I can’t tuck you in like that.”

“Dun’ need it,” Lance mumbled. His eyelids refused to open, heavy now that he’s comfortable.

Katie sighed and a moment later a weight is on top of him. His fingers moved across the smooth threads, it’s the throw pillow from the chair in the room. 

Diligently, she tucks him in, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. Lance wasn’t sure if he was imagining the feel of her face lingering over his - he opened them.

She was - her face hovering over his, studying him as if he were her next school project. Her furrowed brows looked so familiar, something more recent than last week’s test preparation.

“Is… there something on my face?” he asked sleepily. 

Katie smiled, chuckling softly. “You’re a puzzle, Lance, that’s all. I like puzzles.”

Lance grinned, that warm bubbly feeling that his cold core doesn’t mind was back in his chest. “Good, ladies like an enigma,” was all he had the energy to say as he closed his eyes again. 

There’s a pause, and a soft pressure on the end of his eyebrow for only a moment. “I’m so sorry, Lance,” she says softly. “For everything.” 

His nose twitches and his brows furrow. What does Katie have to be sorry for? She sounded so sorrowful. If anything, he should be the one apologizing, keeping his identity and activities secret from her; still not totally sure if he’s protecting her by staying here or putting her in even more danger. 

But he couldn’t tell her quite yet. Maybe an early birthday gift would lift her spirits and provide a slight change of pace for the evenings. 

Her footsteps are light, Lance doesn’t open his eyes again until the door is closed.

Lance rolled his head to the precious family picture on his nightstand. The one he would no longer have if not for his nemesis.

“You’d like her Mom,” he whispered. He thought of Katie, but the image of Pidge blurred on top of it and he was too tired to care. 

“You’re right, I’m not trying hard enough,” he mumbled into his pillow. “I know she’s good at heart, I just don’t know what else to say.”

“Have you tried listening?”

“It was Luis’ fault!” a small Lance yelled, an accusatory finger pointed at his older brother. “He won’t let me play with the boogie board!”

Lance remembered Luis giggling as he bounced up and down on the waves, and feeling soured and betrayed. 

Then his mother’s warm embrace. Lance held onto the moment with vigor, doing all he could to not let the memory progress, to dwell only on his mom’s hug. 

“Luis only just got to play with it after lunch. Let him have his turn and I’m sure he’d be glad to let you play with it.”

Lance sighed. There’s always two sides to a story, and he hardly knew Pidge’s. It was time he found out, one way or another.

He slept and dreamed of taking the picture, his family still alive, and Katie’s arms wrapped around his waist as they all yell ‘Cheese!’.

[goobergamer]

Welcome to the Real World, chpt. 1/?

Summary: ‘The real world’ is Marine Corps slang referring to civilian life after discharge. -(x)

Or, Washington, new and struggling veteran, moves into a duplex where he has a strange and surly neighbor with a penchant for the color red.

Pairing: Sarge/Washington (Red vs. Blue)

Warnings: None for this chapter I don’t think, please ask me if you need specific content tagged for!

A/N: *shows up after over a year of hiatus* hey have some sargington modern war vets au

Thanks to Aryashi and another tumblr user (please @ me if this was you) for plot help ...2 years ago now! It wasn’t wasted!

Current chapters on tumblr: (1, 2, 3, 4)

fic was crossposted to AO3: (x)

It’s a sultry August day outside, and the Veterans Affairs Outreach Coordinator’s office isn’t much better. A box fan chugs along in the corner, only succeeding in stirring up the air around Wash’s legs as he sits stiff-backed in his chair across the desk from the paunchy adviser tapping away on his computer.

The man has been rambling on about service and medical history for some time, taking down details that could impact Wash’s benefits. Wash, for his part, answers the questions mechanically and leaves the system to decide his fate. His mind fades in and out like the heat waves shimmering outside the window. Everything major would already be tucked away in his file, accessible to the man. There’s no reason for Wash to drag up any gory details in his mind for what’s simply an excess of precautionary paperwork.

“...Alright,” the man says, “with all of that covered, let’s talk housing. You’re staying in a motel right now, right? Nothing permanent yet?” He waits for Wash to nod before continuing. “Within the past year, we’ve begun providing reduced-rate housing opportunities for vets on disability. You would qualify, so if you’re interested we can set up a tour of one of the duplexes this week and--”

“No, that sounds alright. I’ll take one.”

“Are you sure? It may be good to see the layout, meet the neighbors if anyone’s already moved into the other half. Your benefits could potentially cover some apartments in the area that aren’t under our management.”

Wash shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure it’s fine.” He has nowhere in particular to go, so one roof over his head is as good as any.

The man pauses, but simply replies with another “alright,” before moving on. “The duplexes have all of the major appliances, built-in counters, et cetera, but are otherwise unfurnished. Do you have any furniture for it?”

“No.” Wash hasn’t been on this side of the ocean for more than small stretches in years, and had always stayed with teammates when doing so, so there’s nothing in storage to pick up.

The man nods, seeming more at ease with this dismissal than the previous. It’s likely a common enough circumstance for new vets. “Alright. You don’t have a car yet either, right? It will probably take a couple weeks for us to get the paperwork settled for you to move into a place, so during that time we can set up some days for you and me or one of the other coordinators to go and rent a U-Haul, stop at some places for you to pick out and purchase some furniture. Okay?”

“Sure, sounds good. Any day works for me.” Again, it hardly matters to him. But Wash plays it safe; he hasn’t just gotten himself out of the hospital only to be sent back with people fearing him a suicide risk if he expresses too much lack of concern for this transition. It’s just a far cry from what he’s used to, having to consider the appearance of end tables important. “Is that all you needed today?”

The coordinator pauses a long moment, seeming to evaluate Wash from over the desk. “Corporal, if you’re interested, there are groups around the state for veterans who have been through similar experiences. We can provide you transportation to chapter meetings, it could help--”

“I’m not a Corporal anymore. And thanks, but I’m fine.” His tone is carefully neutral. It’s been carefully neutral for weeks, always in the face of help he doesn’t want, or need.

The man nods, obviously not intent on pushing the matter. “Okay. If you ever decide you want to go, just give me a call and we’ll make it happen.” He slides Wash a business card, who pockets it without looking it over. “Otherwise, you’re good. I’ll be in touch within the next few days to figure things out for the move.”

Wash gives a perfunctory goodbye and leaves the office, putting all of the matters from his mind, though he can’t shake the feeling of the coordinator’s eyes following his back all the way down the hall.

---

“You’ve got a pretty good place, been renovated since the last guy moved out West. Your neighbor’s been there a few months now. He’s...an interesting guy, but keeps to himself as far as I know. And if he makes too much noise even if you talk to him about it, just let me know,” the coordinator (should have learned his name by now) tells Wash as he navigates a van along narrow backroads. There’s a cargo trailer hitched to the back filled mostly with boxes; besides the mattress and boxspring, Wash had chosen all build-your-own furniture. He has quite a nest egg built up from his years of active duty on top of VA benefits and loans, could have easily afforded to get some sturdy pre-built stuff, but he needs something to do with his hands, something to keep his mind sharp. When time isn’t floating around without any concern for him, the minutes drag painfully long.

Wash hums noncommittally at the coordinator’s comments; a little bit of noise from a neighbor wouldn't hurt. It’s better than the quiet. Far better than the loud.

He shakes his head before that line of thought can go too far, rolling the window down to let the warm breeze coast his skin. There, there are the good memories, patrolling streets in armored cars, not active firefights, but the rare peaceful moments when they could cup the wind in their hands and watch the landscape pass by. Almost seemed like a vacation, sometimes, when he ignored the gun resting in his lap.

He’s pulled out of his reverie as the van rolls offroad into a gravel driveway, laid in a circle around the wide porch stairs of a two-story duplex, empty save for a worn red-and-white pickup he assumes belongs to his new neighbor. The house has pale yellow siding, with two doors on either side of the porch and a couple upstairs windows in each half visible from the front. Nothing too special, but Wash isn’t looking for special. Wash isn’t really looking for anything at all; he’d easily take “nothing in particular” so long as it has four standing walls.

While the day is young and the coordinator still feels limber, they focus on the heaviest items in the trailer, dragging in the bed, a flatscreen Wash had bought for white noise, a few tables of varying sizes, and a boxed-up sectional couch. A handful of other items follow it, some secondhand books purchased half at random and a small shelf for them, a bag of thrifted clothes, but there will still be plenty of empty space in the duplex by the time it’s all sorted. That’s fine with Wash. With mainly white walls and pale hardwood, it will look clean, austere. He’s seen enough grime to last him through at least this lifetime.

Wash is carrying one of the last small boxes up the porch steps when the other front door swings open wide, what’s presumably his neighbor tromping onto the porch to look him over. The man is a good fifteen years older than Wash at minimum, he’d guess. A few rugged scars line his face, one running through his gray hairline and leaving a patch missing in its wake. On the short end of the stick, but with his bulky shape and heavy stance, he’s built solid.

“You can stop right there! I don’t want whatever you’re sellin’, proselytizin’, abandonin’, or thinkin’ about TP’in’ my house with!” the man calls out to Wash, voice gruff with a southern twang.

Wash glances down at the box in his hands. “Oh, I’m not here for—I’m moving in, I’m your new neighbor.”

“Really? Ain’t been one in a while, since the last guy went AWOL.”

“Uh, yeah, I heard he moved out West?” Since the man on the porch seems to have stood down from his posturing, Wash supposes he’s in the clear. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Sarge,” his neighbor offers. “You?”

Sarge? Really? If Sarge lives in this housing, then he’s out of whatever branch he had formerly inhabited, so not much of a “sarge” anymore (Army? Air Force? Which ones use that nickname?) and it’s a little odd to pull that on Wash, especially when there’s no confirmation that he was a lower rank.

Well, Wash can proffer the same level of distance, himself. He isn’t about to start demanding to be called “Corporal”, feels too untrue now that he’s here, but with the time and significance it had held, his codename still feels real. “Washington,” he replies, coolly.

Before either man can comment further, the coordinator steps out of the house, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of a hand. “Phew, alright, I think that should be the—Oh, hey, Sarge.”

You call him Sarge too?

“Stephen!” Sarge practically shouts over Wash’s thoughts, walking over to the coordinator. “Did’ja get my voicemails?”

“Yeah, Sarge, I got them.” The coordinator—Stephen—looks even more worn out just from that one question. “I don’t think we’ll be able to help fund construction on, uh, ‘an underground bunker with automated security’?”

“Damn cutbacks...Just take the money out of my life insurance!”

“You have term life. Nobody gets money unless you die. And cost isn’t the only reason—”

On that note, Wash decides to take his leave. Though Sarge doesn’t seem bothered with his nearby presence for the conversation, he isn’t sure that he’s supposed to be aware of the particulars of Sarge’s benefits. And frankly, he doesn’t really want to hear more of the ridiculousness that his new neighbor had in mind for their yard.

“Thanks for all of the help, Stephen. I’ll let you know if I need anything. Nice to meet you, Sarge.” He shuffles by them to his door, leaving Sarge to tangle the coordinator further in conversations on his ideas for doomsday prep and questions regarding if insurance companies realize he’s faked his own death, whether they could take their money back.

Inside his new home, it’s still, and quiet. A large part of Wash has been looking forward to this, the promise of a space where there’s no thunderous sounds or movements to split his head open, make his skin crawl; nothing unless he allows there to be. But as he stands in the entryway, Wash finds that there’s no big sigh, no settling moment as he inspects his new home. He finds he feels largely the same.

[bellabottomtrousers]

Undercover (Bucky Barnes x Reader ) [Part 1]

Fic details:

2.1k words

Summary: This takes place outside of the MCU, but Bucky is still Bucky. You are a secret agent who is put on a mission with The Winter Soldier, someone who you do not get along with. You have to go undercover as a couple on your honey moon. 

Contains: original characters, language

Disclaimer: This ~~~~~~ means flashback

Author’s Notes: This is part 1 of a 5 part series! Please leave feedback and let me know if you want more! 

“Watch out!” I shout jumping face down and covering my ears as a bomb is set off. My body lifts off the ground and slams back down at the impact. My ears are ringing, but I quickly get up grabbing my gun that fell beside me and run. My partner is running along side me and we both turn back to shoot at as many of them as we can.

“Phoenix we have to take cover! They’ll bomb us again!” She shouts. We turn a corner and hide behind a wall, trying to figure out a game plan.

I shake my head,“No if we hide for too long they’ll get away, we need to distract them somehow and move towards them, there’s four guys left and two of us, but we got this.” I say breathing heavy. I can feel blood dripping down my forehead from my hit with the ground, but I just ignore it. My partner, Viper, peeks her head around the corner quickly to get a view of the area before turning back to me.

“Okay okay, if I come at them from this way, I can run fast enough to go right passed them, they’ll be disoriented, just long enough for you to get up to this building and shoot at them from above. Clear shot.” She says cocking back her gun and getting into a running stance. “Ready?”

I nod and grip the side of the building immediately climbing my way up its side, gripping the window sills for support. I jump onto the roof and go to the edge aiming my gun. Viper takes off at an alarming speed towards the men who are still looking around for us. They see her coming and start shooting, two of them are coming towards her, but she ducks down sliding on her knees and taking them out by their legs, she gets back up swiftly and continues moving. I run from the top of the building leaping over to land on the next roof, closer to the targets. Leaning over the wall I shoot twice, getting head shots of the last two men. Viper comes back around and finishes off the two men she had taken down before as I climb back down the building. We stand in the wreckage, breathing heavy, smiling at each other. We do our signature hip bump as the rest of the force arrives to take care of the damage.  

***

We get back to the agency and have the medics check out our wounds. We have nothing serious, but I need a few stitches for my forehead. While the doctor works, the Captain comes into the room. She stands in the doorway, her face looking guilty.

“Hey Cap, whats up?” I ask, hopping off the bench after I’m patched up.

“I need you to follow me” She says turning around and walking, I quickly follow her down the hall and we come to her office. “You didn’t do anything wrong, but you’re not going to like what I have say” She says leaning against her desk. I cross my arms, feeling a little nervous.

“Okay, just tell me”

“We’re separating you from Viper and placing you with a new partner for a case” shes says quickly, like she knows I will be upset. And she was right, my eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“What you do mean you are separating me? What do you mean new partner? I don’t need a new partner, Viper and I have a system and we’re unstoppable. We can take any case.” I say annoyed. The Captain shakes her head and walks around to behind her desk, pulling out a folder.

“You both can’t take this case I’m afraid. It’s a special undercover situation, you need a male partner for.” She says calmly.

“Male partner?! Come on, there’s nothing that a man can do that Viper can’t!” I say throwing my hands in the air. She opens the folder and goes through the information, handing me a document.

“We have reason to believe that this couple, who owns a Bed and Breakfast down on the east coast, are creating nuclear weapons somewhere on the property. So we need you and your partner to go undercover as a couple and stay there to scope out the area for proof before we can come in full force.” she says, I open my mouth to talk, but she stops me “and before you argue that you and Viper could be lesbians, this couple is very, annoyingly Christian. So this is the option you have to take” She finishes. I let out a frustrated puff of air and hand the document back to her.

“Okay, fine, but as soon as it’s over. Viper is my partner again.” I say.

“Yes, you’ll be back to normal” She agrees.

“Good...So who is my new partner then?” I ask feeling a little better about the situation, but that doesn’t last long.

She hesitates and clears her throat, “Bucky Barnes.” She says and as if on cue there’s a knock at the door and The Winter Soldier is in the doorway. My eyes widen and my face twists into a scowl.

“No, no way, absolutely not. I am not working with him” I point to where he’s standing with a confused look on his face, shaking my head, “Nope not happening”.  His eyebrows furrow and his face turns from confused to angered shock.

“Wait what?! She’s my new partner?! No fucking way” He spits out, moving closer into the room.

“Y/n, Bucky, I know you both have your differences, but you’re both our top agents and we need you to work together on this. It’s incredibly important” She sighs trying to reason with us. But we’re both fuming.

“You’re telling me that I have to give up my best partner to play house with this fucking asshole?”

“Well I’m not too keen on working with you either” He snarls at me.

“You know that it’s way more than playing house I-” She starts, but I cut her off.

“He’s cocky and immature and always works alone. He’s been rude to me since he first joined the agency. So how is this expected to go well?” I raise my voice, throwing my hands up and pulling at my hair.

“I agree, are you sure you thought this through?” He aks. At this point the Captain is becoming annoyed with our behavior and slams her fists on the table.

“Enough! You are professional agents. When I say you have a job to do you shut up and take the order. I’m not saying you need to like each other, I am saying that you have to work together. So I expect you to swallow your pride and do as I say” She shouts causing Bucky and I’s mouths to snap shut.

“Yes Ma’am!” We both say nodding and she hands us the case folders and dismisses us.

“You start tomorrow”

***

“I’m pissed guys, really fucking pissed” I say as a shove various clothes into my suitcase. I’m in my apartment with Viper, her real name Becca and our other roommate Kendall. Who is not a secret agent, but knows all about us.

“I’m upset too, who the hell am I gonna work with now?” Becca groans laying back on the bed, “I hope they don’t put me on with Joe again” I stop my movements and look at her.

“But you love Joe ” I say and she sits up abruptly and looks at me.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But either way he’s a terrible partner. He’s always goofing around I’m surprised he hasn’t been killed.”

“Maybe he should be your partner in a different way” Kendall says wiggling her eyebrows and Becca throws a pillow at her. I shake my head and continue packing.

“Okay Guys! On a serious note, I’m partnered with someone I actually hate and who hates me back so this is going to be awful” I cry out.

“Well, maybe getting to know him better will make him more tolerable?” Becca offers, but she knows it doesn’t help, because that’s all I tried to do when he first arrived at the agency a year ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Agents! We have someone new on the force I’d like you to meet. His name is Bucky Barnes also known as The Winter Soldier!” Captain announced as a man with a strong build and long hair steps up next to her. Everyone began to murmur about the fact that he also had a metal arm. I was fascinated with it right away, wondering what caused him to attain it. What fight he got into that ripped his human arm off. Or if he was born without an arm. I had been working with building weapons for a few months, so I was interested to understand how it worked. After the introduction everyone began crowding around him asking about the arm, so I let him be, going back to my research.

The next day however he was assigned a desk right night to mine and I took this as an opportunity to introduce myself.

“Hi I’m Agent Phoenix, but you can call me Y/n! It’s nice to meet you” I say sticking my hand out for him to shake. He looks at me with piercing blue eyes, hair falling into his face, he glances down at my hand and then back to me before turning away without a word. I’m left there with my hand hanging, I blink a couple times, not understanding why he just brushed me off.

“Um, is there a problem?” I ask a little annoyed. I hear him sigh and he turns back to look at me again.

“Yeah its you”

Ever since then, every attempt I made to be friendly he would brush me off with some rude, snide comment. Like the one time in the research lab,

“Need help finding anything?” I say as I watch him search through the shelves. He glances at me and I give him a genuine smile. I know he brushed me off when we first met, but maybe he was just shy and that’s how he deals with it. I don’t know, but I’m a firm believer in second chances. He turns back to the book shelf ignoring my question and continues to search for the guide. I follow him as he walks over to another shelf.

“You know I’ve been here forever, I know all the books in here. If you just tell me the title I can find it for you!” I say leaning over to try and make eye contact again.

“I’ll be able to find it just fine if you would leave me alone” He grunts moving to another shelf, a piece of paper falls from his grasp and I quickly grab it for him. He tries to take it from me, but I turn my body so he can’t get it.

‘Weapons Training 15th Edition’  I read on the paper. Smirking, I walk over to a shelf across the room and pull the exact book out. I hand it to him and he takes it from me, looking me in the eyes. He has really beautiful eyes, I admire his facial features and my hearts beating a little faster, but thats all ruined as he pushes past me, mumbling  ‘Whatever’. I stumble back a little and look to the doorway. I roll my eyes and feel anger fill me. There’s no need to be so rude.

Sometimes it feel like he was just finding reasons to be mean to me and eventually I just stopped trying.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“So yeah I don’t know what I could do to get him to like me” I shrug and zip up the suitcase. “Just have to go out and do my job”

“At least you get to go to Florida. Maybe you can stop by Disney” Becca says and I roll my eyes.

“You know for a bad ass super spy, you’re a real princess” I say and she shrugs a big grin on her face.

“Get you a girl who does both.”

“Should you take these with you?” Kendall says lifting up the box of condoms I keep by my bed. I give her an unamused look.

“Kendall we are pretending to be a couple. What makes you think that’s a good idea” I say frustrated while her and Becca just burst out laughing.

“You two are the worst!” I shout and make my way to the front door.

“Remember if you want to call me, you call the burner number and always ask about my vacation.” I say.

“Hey hey hey wait up!” Becca shouts with Kendall following me to the front door. “Be safe, stay focused” Becca continues, something we always say before a mission.

They pull me in for a tight hug before sending me on my way.

***

[psyched2b]

One Touch - Part Three - Soulmate AU

Note: This is a soulmate AU that when you first touch someone, you feel tingles all over your body and your soulmate can channel different emotions through the bond. In this piece, the reader is not originally aware of soulmates.

A/N: This is dedicated to @mermaidxatxheart. You is kind, you is special, and you is important. 

P.S. Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mild panic attack(s), Description of Accident, Swearing

Recap:

Sam was the first to break, his face breaking out into a look of unease and uncertainty. “Yeah, about that...you can’t leave because you’re supposedly dead.”                   

Panic blossomed in your chest. Was this hell?                   

“Jesus, Sam. You’re going to scare her,” Bucky growls, fingers twitching, itching to smack his comrade upside the head. He then turns his attention to you, an apologetic look. “He doesn’t mean that you’re actually dead. What he means is that we ran your DNA through a database and that the only match we found matched that of a four-year-old who died in a car accident twenty years ago.”                   

“With your name,” Sam finished.

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck did you just say?”

You feel yourself reeling and you stagger against the wall. This is just too much, you think to yourself. Your chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself and you feel yourself gasping for air. You lean forward, place your hands on your knees and let your head hang down. This was absolutely crazy. Your thoughts are racing, trying to make sense of this mess.

You recognized the accident that they were talking about. You knew all about it. It was the accident that claimed the lives of your parents and brother. Except, you had survived.

What kind of sick joke is this?

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.” You look up, still panting, to see that Bucky was crouched in front of you, his blue-grey eyes watching you with concern and empathy. “Just breathe in, breathe out. Follow me.” He exaggerates his breathing, in through his nose, out his mouth, chest lifting with every breath.

You mimic his actions and you can feel your heart rate slow and your breaths become more even and regulated. Your thoughts began to slow down and you felt more steady.

Your mind clears and you realize something. This is all in your head.

You were in an accident. Not the one from twenty years ago that claimed the lives of your family, but more recently.

You had been on your way home from work, having just received a promotion to partner in your law firm. You were crossing a bridge over a highway when a coworker sent you a text. Distracted, you hadn’t realized that you swerved into the next lane over until a semi-truck was blaring its horn at you. Shocked, you dropped the phone and jerked the wheel in an attempt to get out of the way, but it was too late. The semi clipped your side of the car, sending your car spinning into the guardrail. The cement guard broke on impact and your car went tumbling over the side. You remember a broken piece of concrete crashing through your windshield and hit you in the head before your car smashed into the highway below.

You know that there is no logical explanation for how you could have survived. Either this is the afterlife or this is your brain trying to protect you from the trauma.

Trying to figure it out right now was futile.

You take a deep breath to settle yourself once again and you feel the tension leave your body. You brush the invisible dirt off your hands, stand up straight, and turn to face Sam and Bucky.

In an eerily calm voice, you say, “I’m good now.”

Bucky and Sam share a worried look, but otherwise, don’t question it. Sam goes over to Bucky and whispers something in his ear that Bucky gives a nod to in response, both not taking their eyes off of you.

“Well,” Sam drawls out, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “As much fun as this shindig is, I’m going to...go do...things.” And without a further goodbye, takes off out the door.

You look to Bucky, raising an eyebrow in question of Sam’s strange actions, but otherwise, don’t say anything. He just shrugs, not offering any explanation before saying, “Let’s go on a tour.”

Bucky heads down the hall, not looking back to see if you would follow.

You stand there for a minute, debating whether to follow along or try to make a run for it. Since you had no idea the layout of the building or knowledge of what Bucky’s skills were, you erred on the side of caution and decided to chase after him, catching up in just a few steps.

He leads you through the building, pointing out different areas of interest, but you aren’t paying much attention. Instead, you’re lost in your thoughts.

The one thing you were certain of is that you crashed off of a bridge and that you had hit your head. Logically, this reality that you were in was just a projection your mind is giving you in order to protect you from the real trauma. What you couldn’t figure out is if this’ was just some play-by-play of some deep set fantasy. You were never someone who had been into Marvel Comics, nor were you the type to romanticize relationships. Yet you were in New York, surrounded by bickering idiots, and had Captain America claiming to be your soulmate.

Trying to make sense of anything was giving you a massive headache.

Instead, you turn to face the mountain of a man. "So, how come Sam called you grandpa? Is that a kink of yours or something?"

Bucky stops walking, turns around to look down at you, and gives you an amused look. "He thinks it's so funny just because I was born in 1917."

What the fuck? You think to yourself, but manage to keep a straight face. "Well, you should tell me what skin care product you use because you don't look a day over twenty-five."

“Skip the ageing cream,” he comments casually, starting to walk down the hall again. “If you want to stay this fresh, I recommend experimentation by either German scientists or terror groups. Really does wonders for the body.” He pauses, tapping his chin with a silver finger, feigning that he was deep in thought. “Oh! And being frozen either in ice or cryogenically. That helps too.” He gives off a sardonic laugh, shaking his head at himself.

His response makes you pause, needing a moment to process everything that was just said. A half second later, you give a small shake of your head, clearing it. “Sounds realistic.”

Bucky comes up on an unmarked door, stopping and turned to give you a smile. “Yeah, we’re an interesting bunch.” He doesn’t leave room for you to comment, quickly changing the subject. “Do you like to read?”

“Are you implying that there are people who don’t like to?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him.

He lets out a little laugh before opening the door and gesturing you in.

You’re in awe. Never in your life had you seen so many books in one room beside in a library. Without further invite from Bucky, you rush forward to the first group of shelves and begin to peruse the section. Your eyes go over the classical literature that was sitting before you, flickering through the many titles. Glancing over at Bucky, you point to a certain book and ask, “Can I grab one to read?”

Bucky comes up over your shoulder to see what you were pointing at and gives you a look of surprise. “You want to read Animal Farm over some trashy romance novel?” he questions in a skeptical tone. You nod in affirmation and he just shrugs. “Go crazy.”

With a smile, you pull the book out from its spot and turn to face Bucky. Giving him a quick pat on the head, you happily skip over to where a group of plush armchairs are and plop down in one of them and immediately begin to read. Bucky grabs his own book from the same shelf and you glance over the cover of yours to see it was The Picture of Dorian Gray. Seems like you weren’t the only one who like classical literature.

You’re only half a chapter in when Bucky speaks up. “What do you do for a living?”

You look up from your book, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you going to ask me what my favorite color is next?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your sassy response and closes his book, setting it down in his lap. “I am curious what life looks like for normal people.” He pauses, glancing at you sideways. “Normal being a relative term.”

His last comment has you snorting. “Yeah, who’s normal anymore these days? Normal is boring.” You dog ear your page and close the book. “I work as a child psychologist. It’s….a difficult job. Not a lot of people want to work with children just because every single child is different. Adults are arguably easier because they can articulate their thoughts and feelings better whereas children, you have to be incredibly intuitive. There are only three of us in the county where I’m from, but I had just received word that I was given funding to start a larger program…one where I’m in charge of recruiting other child psychologists, developing family groups, teaching my ways of treating these children and so on and so forth.”

Bucky was silent. When you looked up, you were amused at the awestruck look on his face.

“What, cat got your tongue?” You tease.

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Not at all, doll. I’m just...that’s amazing. I can’t believe how far we’ve come from locking up people in looney bins.”

“Primitive asses,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s still not perfect, people wanting to medicate their children at any sign of not being immediately compliant, but at least we don’t shame and degrade them.” You allow yourself a deep sigh and change the topic. “Anyways, what do you do?”

“I keep Captain America from getting into too much shit,” Bucky chuckles, getting a fond look on his face. “That man has no sense of self-preservation but, he comes from a good place. You wouldn’t believe it looking at him now, but he was a scrappy little punk back in the day. Didn’t matter, I was constantly pulling him off of guys three times his size. I always told him I looked forward to 70 years down the line when he wouldn’t be picking fights anymore. I shouldn’t be surprised that’s not the case.”

You take note of his “back in the day” story to investigate further at a later time. “Bucky, do you have a man crush on Captain America?,” you ask in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow in mock speculation.

Bucky just laughs, “Steve’s a good guy, but he’s not my type.”

Before you could respond, you hear a knock on the door followed by a familiar face walking in.

Steve Rogers stands by the door awkwardly, rubbing his hands together in a nervous manner as he looks to you.

Bucky looks over and his face splits into a large smile. Stomping his feet on the ground, he gracefully leaps up from the couch and heads to Steve, grabbing him in a quick hug before pulling away. “Steve! Glad you could make it! I’m going to go catch up with Mama Red Wing!” He then turns to you and nods a goodbye. “I’ll see you around.” And with that, he’s out the door.

Traitor, you think, slightly irritated he just left you alone with this man who was notorious for making outrageous claims.

You’re sorely tempted to ignore Steve’s presence and just continue reading, but Steve had this pathetically soft look on his face and you find yourself taking pity on the man. “You can come take a seat, I don’t bite.” Hard.

Steve takes the invitation and walks over, moving surprisingly graceful for a man of his size and stature, and claims the same chair Bucky had previously occupied that faced you.

He sits there and stares at you for a moment in silence and you take the opportunity to check him out yourself.  You have to admit to yourself that he’s a very attractive man for a delusional person. Then again, you've always been a sucker for blond hair and blue eyes. A part of you wonders what that says about you, that you created this gorgeous man and he's completely insane and supposedly your soulmate.

Steve clears his throat and gives you a nervous smile. “I imagine you have some questions?”

Tags for Everything: @mermaidxatxheart @bettercallsabs @thinkwritexpress-official

Tags for One Touch: @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @kittylovesfandom @angryteapot @chonisberonica @delusional-of-love @unknownuserhasjoined @toews-a-peek @dryerpet

*Can’t tag you

[melyaliz]

Chapter 3: Enchanted

Starcrossed part 3

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: Pureblood and perfect. Everything during his years at Hogwarts was going to be pureblood and perfect.

Pairing: Draco x OC

Notes: Do we like the flip to Draco’s POV? I’m not sure how much I will do it but I do want this to be a coming of age story for both of them so I feel like a little bit of his perspective is important.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

------------------------------------------------------------

The first time Draco Malfoy saw Calista he knew,

He was going to marry that girl.

She sat on a golden chair in the corner of the dance floor as the adults mixed and mingled. Dressed in an intricate beautiful golden dress that wouldn’t normally suite a young 6-year-old girl regardless of the elegance of the party. The beadwork and golden threads seemed to catch the light in such a way that they let off an almost hazy glow around the small girl.

This mixed with her own beautiful curls placed perfectly set on her head and large deep blue-green eyes that peacefully watched the world spin around her gave her an almost unearthly look. If it wasn’t for the occasional blink or head nod Draco might have thought she was one of the statues that would sit on the shelves in the many rooms of his home. The ones his mother always told him he could look at but never touch.

“Oh look the Royals are here” his mother sniffed, her voice laced with sarcasm. Something a 6-year-old Draco didn’t quite understand at the time.

“Royals?”

“Oh yes dear, see that little girl over there? She’s basically an object, the seconds always are.”

“Object?”

“Someday that little girl will be married to a very handsome rich pureblood and have little babies.”

At the time he wasn’t quite sure what married meant but he assumed it was something good if it involved a pureblood. Plus, Draco was very handsome, his mother told him so. So that meant he was going to marry the little golden girl.

She never talked, the golden girl. She would just sit there watching them all go by as if glued to the chair or floor, or blanket her mother would place her. Always watching while the other children ran around laughing.

During those early days Draco never thought it was odd, after all, she would smile and looked quite content obediently rooted in her position. That was just who his golden girl was. The girl who sat there and looked like something out of a bedtime story.

Watching him. He was sure of it, after all, they were to be married one day so she obviously paid attention to him the way he paid attention to her. When she was around he made sure to show off. Played a little louder, explained a little brighter, smiled a little wider.

But he never talked to the golden girl.

Or he didn’t until the day she wasn’t just standing there watching.

Instead of her blue gaze taking in the merriment around her, her eyes were locked on a book. Swept up in its pages. Lost to the world around her.

Many of the adults whispered shaking their heads. Too much reading. It wasn’t good for a girl her age. Didn’t her parents know it would make her dull? Possibility, even cross-eyed. Merlin forbid she needed glasses, it would ruin her pretty face.

Of course, they were right. The adults always knew what was right. Besides with her gaze on the books, she wasn’t watching him. And Draco couldn’t have that.

“If you always have your nose in a book, it’ll make you cross-eyed” he informed her smartly using the same inflictions his father had used when he explained the world to Draco. The golden girl looked up at him. Deep blue eyes blinking as if unsure where they were. After a moment she gently closed her book, her finger between the pages saving her place.

“What do you think?” she asked crossing her eyes. The question caught him off guard. Her voice was flat if not a bit high pitched, not quite how he had imagined it so many times in his head. Serious, it showed no hint of a joke or sarcasm (something the now 8-year-old understood quite well). Merely a question, genuine and pure.

Her crossed eyes made her look silly, it was as if the spell of the golden girl was broken. No longer a pretty little thing in the corner. Now she had a voice and looked like any of the other kids playing.

“You look like a mudblood” he knew he wasn’t supposed to use that word, but that made it even more impactful. Learning it’s meaning a year or so earlier it's taboo nature made him want to use it any chance he could. He and his friends saying it with naughty giggles worried the adults would hear but pretending they didn’t care.

“If I looked like a mud - blood would that mean I could read as many books as I wanted?” her next question seemed a little more light. As if she wasn’t sure the meaning of the word but also didn’t seem to care. More curious about her plight to the meaning. Was she mocking him? There was no way, his golden girl must be genuinely confused.

“I guess, but then no one would ever want to marry you” He shrugged casually giving her the threat his mother had murmured about many of the unwed girls at their parties. All women wanted was to get married. Even he knew that.

“What would happen to me do you think, if no one wanted to marry me?” the statement was soft as if speaking more to herself than him. Her eyes looking beyond him to a world where she wasn’t married.

“You’d be alone” it was obviously, words like “old maid” and “loveless” crossed his mind as he tried to remember what his mother would say when gossiping to her friends. Wasn’t the threat of being alone always on the tip of everyone’s tongue?

“So not much different than now.”

Her comment caught him off guard. Simple and soft but to the point. For the first time since… maybe forever her gaze was truly on him. Boring a hole into his very soul. Looking at him as if he was the only person in the whole world. Just the two of them

Alone.

It was a frightening thought really. Living alone. Having no one at your side. At your beck and call. Who would tell him things of the world? Explain how he was pureblood and deserving of everything he wanted?

No, he was not alone. He had his mother who doted over him. He had his father who showed him how to be a man like him.

He had his friends, the children at the parties. His own crew of admirers.

And he had his golden girl.

But something shifted that day. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it but it was as if from that day on she would look right at him. Would catch his gaze anywhere in a room.

And would cross her eyes.

---------

Draco had long ago learned his golden girl’s name, Calista. And while she wasn’t directly royal her father, a Frenchman was some sort of 9th degree of prince or something. His mother had offhandedly mentioned it once. It was obvious to Draco now that his mother wasn’t much of a fan of Calista’s parents.

But then again she wasn’t much of a fan of anyone really. Only throwing these lavish parties to show off. It was what they all did, the pureblood women. As if a way to prove they were well off, happy, and the best of the bunch.

After all, what else does one do when they have as much money and prestige like the Malfoys did?

Yet even now knowing her name and not so royal heritage Calista always felt like something special to him. Something golden that you kept on the top shelf out of the reach of dirty hands.

Maybe it was because he only saw her at their parties, dressed head to toe in the latest most fashionable robes that suited her so well they couldn’t have been made for anyone else.

Or maybe it was because she would always sit away from everyone else. Just out of reach, always there for her mother to show off but far enough away you couldn’t talk to her without the parental permission.

Which was why when he saw her on the train to Hogwarts he barely recognized her.

Among the hustle of other students, she was just standing there looking so… normal. No gold dresses. Her hair still perfectly in place but in a simple bow no intricate updo. She looked so average he hadn’t even recognized her at first as she backed into him.

“Hey watch it!”

She turned and he instantly knew who she was. How could he not? Even in her plain clothes, she had a grace about her that only royalty could.

“ Langlais ?” her surname came out more of a question as if he was still confused that this rather normal looking child was really his golden girl. What was she doing here? Didn’t she have a golden shelf to sit on?

She smiled up at him before bowing her head slightly unable to curtsy “Malfoy.”

They sat on the train ride together. This was the first time they had a proper conversation. Granted several lower class students chimed in with their own rubbish opinions about houses. (Honestly who could possibly think Hufflepuff was anything but total garbage for mudbloods and squibs?)

It was interesting to see how excited Calista was. She had never shown so much emotion. Asking so many questions, blue eyes wide as she seemed to find every little fact about everyone around her fascinating. It was strange yes, but also thrilling. After all Draco Malfoy was not one to pass down an opportunity to show off.  

Or that was his plan until that nosey Hannah - whatever her name was- kept chiming in with false information.

But he didn’t really let it bother him too much because it didn’t matter. This was his year. He would be the most popular boy in school. Get the best grades, have the best friends and be the captain of the Quidditch team. How could he not? He was the best and wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Calista’s excitement seemed to grow as they entered Hogwarts. Hannah nudged her as they got ready to enter the great hall.

“Good luck with the sorting hat. I know that it will give you the right house.”

Even Draco could tell that this bothered his golden girl. Calista bit her bottom lip giving a small wave to the other girl. Honestly, she didn’t need to worry, it was obvious which house she would get.

“Of course it will,” he said to ease her nerves. She just needed to trust him, he knew.

Or that was what he told himself until she was standing on the steps and the Hat was screaming Hufflepuff for the whole world to hear.

Draco watched in pure shock as she walked slowly back to her seat before turning to look at him. Then she crossed her eyes.

It was then that Draco realized something may be wrong with his little golden girl.

-GET TAGGED!-

Tagging: @royslittleharper  @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @werewitchling  @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @ocelysium @pinkwitch21

Starcrossed @elaacreditava

[steadypiratezombie]

The Secret to Supermarket Product Placement

Getting your product into a new store is hard enough on its own. But once that battle is won, the next one has already arrived. At first glance, you may just want to place your brand among other types of similar products.

However, just because this store aisle looks like the way to go doesn’t necessarily mean it's the best place in the grocery or convenience store for your product to succeed. Understanding how supermarkets are set up is a great way to learn how to improve your products’ chances of making their way into a customer's shopping cart.

Planograms

Whenever consumers look at neatly arranged supermarket shelves, they’re really looking at live planograms. A planogram is a visual representation of product shelving that is used to maximize capacity and sales. Every field sales and marketing team can benefit from using planograms to aim for more profitable product placement.

In addition, planograms make is easy to plan shelf placement and organization across different stores. To learn more about how to use planograms, take a quick look at our “How to use a Planogram” article!

Product Placement Strategy

Supermarkets have a method to their madness when organizing their in-store product placement strategy. Just like you, they know that consumers have a difficult time sticking to their grocery shopping list, no matter how determined they are. This is good for CPG brands because that means your product has the opportunity to choose! Below are some of the clever ways stores place goods to maximize profit.

Cross Merchandising

Cross merchandising is the practice of placing complimentary goods together to grow basket size and drive impulse purchases. This product placement strategy is successful because often when consumers purchase something, they tend to think what else could go well with it.

Popular examples include wine and cheese, pasta and pasta sauce, and solo cups and ping pong balls. If your product goes well with something else in the store, it would be a great idea to bring up co-branding the two goods to the store owner. Not only could this increase the sales of your product, but it shows the store owner that you’re thinking about them too.

"Eye-Level Is Buy-Level"

This phrase is probably associated more with shelf placement than any other. For exactly this reason, the eye-level retail shelving real estate is the most expensive because it’s the most valuable to brands. However, there is even more to this idea. There are a few studies that suggest that similar to reading, we scan stores shelving space from left to right. If you can’t get into the prime, center real estate in a store aisle, learning which side, left or right, works best for your product will help your field teams maximize profits from store product placement and displays.

In-Store Product Placement Best Practices

Now that you know more about how supermarket product placement works, here are three things you can do to improve your in-store performance in 2019.

Negotiating Shelf Placement

Obviously, when you enter a new store, the owner won’t just give you the best shelf placement. Be prepared to explain why your product deserves that real estate you want for it. Remember, nobody knows your product’s strengths better than you do and negotiating with the grocery store owner is the ideal time to highlight those strengths.

A great way to back up your statements is by using data. Retailers want to know how your product will increase their profit margin. Providing evidence to them that your brand can perform as well as or better than your competitors will not only help your chances of entering a new store but of also getting the shelf space you desire. Any information you have concerning revenue, how your product should be displayed and promoted in stores and consumer demographics will go a long way towards helping your product succeed.

Dealing With Slotting Fees

It’s extremely likely that you’ll be faced with slotting fees, up-front costs retailers ask of manufacturers to guarantee them a spot on the shelf. While some big retailers have done away with slotting fees altogether, many of the nation’s grocery giants, big box stores, and convenience stores still require them. (Check out our article on slotting fees here to find out if retailers typically charge fees for your category.)

While slotting fees are certainly a roadblock for many growing brands, suppliers with a good data story can negotiate their way out of them. Here are three ways you might be able to get out of coughing up for your facings:

1. Recognize the role of logistics:

Understand how product arrangement in supermarkets and supply chain management factor into the price of a slotting fee. The more you can reduce the costs associated with stocking your product, the more likely you are to receive shelf placement and have leverage over how much you pay to play.

2. Drive growth through sales and marketing

Retailers need proof that your brand will sell should they decide to carry it. This can be accomplished with documentation of historical performance and a solid plan for how to move products in stores.

3. Prove demand for your brand

What makes your brand stand out? What can your company offer the retailer that others can’t? Show buyers why passing up on your product is a mistake.

Warehouses play a vital role in the overall supply chain. Here, the products are stored, and the orders picked, packed, packaged and labelled for delivery. When done right, customer satisfaction goes up several notches.

Racks are the backbone of the warehouse. By enabling products to be stacked in an organized and efficient manner, the warehouse racks ensure goods in the warehouse are easily accessible for order fulfilment. When the racks function properly, they are an asset to the warehouse, ensuring smooth operation. Any mishap in the racking system can have adverse consequences which will ripple across the entire supply chain.

With the boom in the commercial market, lighting has also found a special place in various establishments. Be it a retail store or a big supermarket, innovative lighting solutions are illuminating them all and helping them to be more productive.

It is a known fact that the designing and interior of a supermarket can highly influence a customer’s purchase decision. However, not many people might know that lighting also has an important role in this. It can have a significant impact on the workplace functionality and overall customer experience.

Lighting is a vital part of a supermarket and therefore it must be utilised in the best way. Today, there are many supermarket lighting solution providers that offer efficient LED lighting solutions like pendant lighting for all commercial needs.