#also the merry go round one is So Fucking Evil that shit would give me a heart attack

[day-mark]

twitch im in your walls. havent finished s2 of squid game yet but some of these games wouldve worked so well in squidcraft 3?? i wouldve loved to have seen these played in game 😿

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier​, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

[dayseternal-blog]

i think im running out of naruhina fluff/smut. T-T. Can you help me out? hihi

 🔍

you think you can hide behind anonymous 🧐  I’m quite certain I know who this is haha 😘

And for you, dearest anon, have three completely unfinished, barely started wips (EVIL CACKLES BECAUSE THESE GO NOWHERE)

But actually, if any of these one-shot ideas catch your interest, please let me know and maybe I’ll actually try to finish one of them?

Smutty Soulmate AU, where you meet your soulmate in your dreams each night upon turning 20.

When her alarm jars her from sleep, she’s always only left with a feeling and flashes of color.  Today...she desperately tries to focus, to reach back, to remember…

Excitement.  Red.  Dark.

Her heart beats faster for reasons unknown to her, and there’s no point in trying any harder to slide the experiences of the soul into her brain.  After pointless meditation sessions, longer naps, and all manners of effort with dream diaries and online tips, she’s been resigned to the fact that only her other half can unlock that translation of dreams to memories.  She has yet to meet her soulmate in person.

Ever since her 20th birthday a few months ago, since that nerve wracking night of meeting her soulmate for the first time, going out has been a secret manhunt.  Eyes peeled to every single passersby over the age of 20.  Any one of them could be the person she’s spent the last 200 or so nights with.

So she dresses carefully for a day out with Sakura, Tenten, and Ino.  They’ll be going to the restaurant where Sakura’s fiance works his part-time job.  For all she knows, her soulmate might be there, too.

A guy?  A girl?  Her age?  Much older?  She has no idea what she’ll say to her soulmate, either.  But she imagines that when she sees them, it’ll be like a homecoming.  Planning is unnecessary, right?  When it’s someone you actually see every night?  If they didn’t like her, she can’t imagine why she would wake up every morning with so much residual happiness and longing.

-------------------------------------THAT’S IT @bunny-hoodlum

Ghost-Hunting (Obake Hunt) Comedy Modern AU, Naruto & co. visit a college at night for some scares that take an unexpected turn...

A shadowed driveway leads up the mountain toward the private college.

“Is this it?” Sasuke asks, peering out the car window.

“Yeah, turn here,” Ino instructs.  

“Okay, but why is the place even open at this time of night,” Sakura states, arms crossed with a skeptical expression as Sasuke drives the minivan through the gates, up the grand driveway.  The dorms for the college were built at a separate location down the main thoroughfare.

Ino shrugs.  “They have all kinds of events that go on at night.  I don’t know.”

“At least we know we’re not trespassing if the school’s open.”  Hinata’s soft voice comes over the back seat.  

“I still can’t believe we actually talked you into coming with us!” Ino teases.

Sakura laughs, “We’re having a bad influence on her!”

Hinata shakes her head.  “Actually, I’m amazed that Naruto-kun is here,” she shyly replies.

Sasuke lets out a quiet laugh.  “Doesn’t mean he won’t shit himself if we find a ghost.” 

“Okay!, no!, I won’t shit myself, alright?” he immediately defends.  “...I might just scream a little, but I won’t poop my pants…”  He’s already in a protective stance, arms crossed, back hunched a little.  

Everyone laughs at him, but Hinata takes his hand, smiling half-amusedly, half to comfort him.  “I’ll protect you, Naruto-kun.”

That only makes everyone laugh harder as Naruto sinks into himself in embarrassment.

Despite Ino’s school being open, the parking lot is somewhat empty save for a few cars.  The buildings are magnificent in design, echoing back to an era when arched entryways and stucco were favored over walls of glass.  The hum of cicadas pierce through the still, late summer air.  

The small group of friends silently follow Ino back toward the driveway of the school with only yellowed street lamps lighting the dark sidewalks.  They cross into the street, stopping right in the middle at the fancy traffic meridian.  It’s an odd decorative aspect of the driveway they passed on the way up.  It’s right in the middle of the street, separating the in and out lanes, somewhat built-up and rounded with a grassy patch and flowering bushes planted high on top.  It really only serves to make the school look expensive.

Ino smiles, then whispers, “Put your hand here on the wall.”

“Why?” Sakura asks, also in a whisper.  

“Just feel it.”  

They do, all of them placing their hands on the wall, waiting for something to happen.

“You see how the plaster is kind of rough over there?” she asks.

They nod, their fingers dragging over the rushed job.

“...This is an ancient burial ground,” Ino explains in a hushed tone.

Their hands spring off of the wall, their fingers wide in stress at what they were just touching.

“Ino, what the fuck?!” Naruto hisses, barely containing his volume, his legs already carrying him away from the meridian and onto the side of the street. 

Sakura stares at her hand wide-eyed.  “Oh my gosh, we’re all cursed,” she laments.  She can practically feel the spiritual energy twisting around her fingers. 

Ino snickers.  “That’s what my course major senpais did to me.”

Sasuke and Hinata are silently trailing after Naruto with abject horror on their faces.  Hinata fists her hand uncomfortably against her skirt.  

Once they’re all gathered safely away from the meridian, Ino continues to explain.  “When they were constructing, they found the remains of the ancient natives.”

“So they just built that random thing in the middle of the street to house the bones and then continued on their merry way?” Naruto asks for clarification.

Ino nods.  “After they found them, they built that wall around the burial ground, and apparently they were in a hurry to cover it back up.  They just made the driveway go around it.”

They stand there, staring at the burial ground, picturing the bones just on the other side of the wall they touched, below the grass and bushes.  

“Did you have to make us touch it, though,” Hinata asks, regretfully, with a really sad frown.

“The spirits of the ancient warriors are going to find me and kill me in the dead of the night,” Naruto states, as if it’s already fact.

Ino brushes his paranoia off.  “We’ll, I’m still here, aren’t I?”  

“Note to all of us--don’t do anything Ino tells us to do,” Sasuke says.

Ino gives him a very evil smile.  “That’s not all there is to this place.”

“Why...why am I doing this…” Naruto asks to no one in particular.

She leads them deeper into the center of the school, where a large tree spreads its thick limbs over a beautiful cobbled courtyard.  A simple fountain beneath the tree spouts water, and pennies shine beneath the surface of the circular pool.  The gurgle of the water as it falls is relaxing, serene in the quiet of the night.

“Wow, this is nice,” Sakura says, looking around at the manicured gardens surrounding the courtyard.  

Ino nods.  “A girl hung herself here.”

They turn their attention to the blonde.  Suddenly, the peace of the courtyard feels like an ill omen.

She tilts her head at the large tree.  “They say that when this used to be a mental hospital, a girl got away from her caretakers.  She was found hanging from this tree.”  

They frown at the branches, wondering which one the girl chose.

Ino gestures to steps that lead to an academic building.  “They said that at night, you could see her ghost walking and talking to herself in the corridors, always bringing herself to this tree.  Someone suggested to the school that they build this fountain here to give rest to her spirit.”

“So no one sees her ghost anymore?” Sakura asks. 

Ino shrugs.  “I guess we’ll find out…”

“What?”  Naruto scrunches a face of distaste.

“Let’s go,” Ino invites.  

“Go where…” he whines quietly.

Ino takes the disturbed group down the steps to the building.  “Hm, I wonder if it’s open…”  She pulls the handle.

The door opens.

“Whyyyy is it open…” Naruto groans.

“But actually, though, why,” Sakura states.

“Maybe the teachers are still here?” Hinata suggests.

Ino laughs.  “Psh, what college professor cares that much about their job?”  She holds the door open, inviting them into the building.  “Welcome to the language arts hall.”  

The corridor lights are all on, assuring them that the building is, indeed, open.

They enter the hallway.  Naruto lags behind.  When the door shuts, he opens it again.  “I’m just making sure…”  He tests the handle a couple more times before closing it.  Then he tests it once more for good measure.

“You satisfied?” Sasuke asks.

“I’m just making sure,” he repeats.  

Hinata frowns, imagining the door locking them in while they’re inside the building.  

Naruto’s paranoia is only making things worse.

Ino starts ahead of them, and Naruto has to rush to catch up.  “Wait for me!”

“SHHHH!!” Sakura scolds, finger to her lips.

They stand there, noticing how her shush seems to echo in the hallway.

“This place is really creepy,” Hinata comments quietly.

Ino shrugs.  “Only at night.  I had classes in this building in my first year.” 

“So this place used to be part of the mental hospital?” Sasuke asks.  

“Yeah,” Ino affirms.  She brings them to a classroom.  “You see how there’s this little window that you can use to look inside?”  

They nod, taking turns peeking into one of the dark classrooms.  It’s a normal room with normal desks.

“All of the rooms have this hallway window, you see?  It was so that the nurses could check on the patients.”

“Oh gods,” Naruto mutters.

-------------------------------------THAT’S IT

College Ballet AU, Naruto sees a different side of his quietly reserved friend.

It wasn’t a trick. 

Winter had dragged its sharp claws across the ground as long as it could, but finally, finally, three seasonal false-starts and numerous wilted, early-blooming daffodils later, 

Spring had finally decided to stay for good.

Trees bloomed pastel pinks instead of icy white.  New hopefuls popped out of the wet dirt, ready to face the sun.  Birds were suddenly a real thing again.  

Students strolled across the college campus in shorts and light sweaters, eager to shed the winter coats they had worn for six straight months.

And most importantly…

“The forecast is in the high 50s all week!” Ino announced as she pranced into the room, swinging her dance bag to the floor.

“Oh!!  Remember last spring we had class outside?” Sakura asked, turning her attention to their ballet instructor.

“Can we have class outside, Kurenai?” Ino pleaded, eyes wide in hope.

“Hm, the weather is nice today.  I suppose it is a shame to stay indoors on an afternoon like this,” she considered aloud.

Hinata listened with alarm.  She had never danced outside before, never in her 14 years of dancing.  Yes, she had danced on stage before, had performed in front of many strangers before, but still...  Everyone will see us, she worried.  

“I didn’t bring my speakers today, though,” Kurenai continued.

Before Hinata could feel any relief, Tenten pulled out her tech from her bag.  “You can bluetooth your phone to mine!”  

“Awesome, Tenten!” Sakura exclaimed.

“Oh, please, Kurenai?  Can we have class outside?” the other girls begged.

Hinata already knew her fate.  She was going to have to wear her body-conforming leotard and tights in front of the entire student body.  Nevermind the fact that the last time she had gone barefoot on grass was in elementary school.

They all picked up their belongings and made the quick trip to the center lawn.

As she predicted, many students who were already finished with their classes for the day were enjoying the afternoon weather, laying out in the grass reading or playing frisbee.  

And here they were, in their leotards and tights, about to have their whole ballet practice for all to see.  

“There’s so many people,” she whispered in embarrassment to Sakura.  

The pinkette looked at Hinata in confusion, then sympathy.  “Don’t worry.  Just relax and enjoy the sunshine!  It’s a lot of fun to dance outside.  It feels like…”  Sakura glanced up in thought.  “...Like freedom.  Or like...nature!”

Hinata took a deep breath and nodded.  She slipped off her sandals and lined up with everyone to begin their barre exercises...without a barre.  She spread her toes open to first position and settled her arms and hands into en bas.  

Already she could see curious onlookers watching them, and she could only thank the god above that they were having class in a corner of the field, and not front and center.  

Kurenai glanced over her dancers, noting their prepared positions.  She rattled off the instructions for their plie routine before setting up the speaker and scrolling through her phone’s music menu.

Familiar piano music rose into the air.  

More students glanced around.

Hinata tried not to think that all of their eyes were on her.  Because she knew, logically, that they weren’t all watching only her, but her heart just hadn’t been prepared for this sudden public display.

Eventually, with the right side completed and the combination repeated on the left side, Hinata began to feel less tense.

The students lazing on the lawn returned to their own devices, and only passersby watched as they headed to their destinations.  

She fell into the muscle memory of the exercises, and her focus turned inward on the flow of her arms with the music, of the dart of her toes with the beat, and the alignment of her body.  

It was like Sakura said.  There was a certain freedom she had never felt before in dancing barefoot in the grass under the Spring sun, turning, leaping, and reaching into the fresh air.  

[omgrachwrites]

Falling Stars (Sequel to Tell A Tale of You and Me) Chapter Four

Pairing: Dean Thomas x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a brewing war you fall for one of your classmates, a boy that you used to know. When you have the chance to fight against evil, you fight for what you believe in.

Chapter Summary: Dean relives the past and things that hurt him there while you and Astoria meet with a group of people in The Hog’s Head and you end up joining the DA.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

Words: 2558

Disclaimer: I haven’t read The Order of The Phoenix in ages so the timeline may be wrong!

A/N:  Hope you guys enjoy this part!  Please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

previous part   masterlist   prequel   next part 

Chapter Four - The Past Hurts

Dean watched the beautiful sprawling English countryside whizz past the window as the Hogwarts Express let out a billow of steam and picked up speed. Seamus’ and Neville’s snores distracted him as he went back to his book and Dean sighed at them as he put his book back down and rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes. He knew that he should have been excited about the upcoming year at Hogwarts; he’d heard rumours that something big and exciting was going to happen. But, he wasn’t as excited as he should be.

Cass hadn’t written back to him all summer, he wasn’t pathetic enough to let a pretty girl be the centre of his universe but he was a little bit hurt. Dean knew that Sirius Black was Cass’ dad, and she even told him that she wouldn’t be able to contact him much over the summer. The ministry was still after her dad – as they should have been because Sirius Black was a convicted mass murderer – but he still thought he’d at least get one letter.

He supposed that he would just have to talk to her in person and see what the score was, and see if she was alright. The fact that he’d be able to talk to her properly made him feel better and he decided not to worry about Cass anymore.

Seamus and Neville joined the land of the living sometime in the afternoon when fields and moors disappeared, snow-capped mountains and lakes taking their place. Neville asked Dean and Seamus what the Quidditch World Cup was like as excitement filled his round face as he clutched his plant. The two best friends shared a wistful look as they launched into talks of the match.

“It was the best match in centuries, I’d wager,” Seamus started while Dean nodded vigorously, “me mam cried when we won.”

“Krum caught the snitch but Ireland still won, it would have gone on for days of Krum hadn’t ended the game. Bulgaria was no match for Ireland, and everyone knew it but I am dying to try out that one move, the Wronksi Feint,” Dean laughed.

Neville gaped in astonishment and awe, and there was even a little glint of jealousy in Neville’s eyes which surprised Dean, “wow! I wish that I could have gone, I asked Gran if she would get tickets but she wouldn’t,” he pouted, looking mournfully out of the window.

“Well, if you can wait about a century for England to host again then you’ll be able to go,” Seamus snickered while Dean rolled his eyes.

Finally, after a long day of travelling from London, Dean and his friends were stepping off the coaches that took them up to the school. Dean stood up on his tiptoes as he walked into the candle lit Entrance Hall, looking over the sea of people to see if he could spot Cass. A cold drawl of a laugh came from behind Dean and he swivelled around to see the pale pointed face of Draco Malfoy.

Dean scowled, he’d like nothing more than to ruin that platinum slicked back hair and give him the punching that he thoroughly deserved. Cass was standing behind Malfoy with her friend, Astoria, Cass looked so pretty. Dean opened his mouth to greet her but Malfoy suddenly began talking.

“Alright there, mudbloods?” he smirked as his eyes travelled from Dean to Seamus, and then to Neville. His eyes lingered on Neville for the longest; his lip curling as Neville nervously looked away from him, clutching his plant in one hand and his toad in the other.

Cass’ nose flared in anger and she glared at Malfoy as he used the slur but she didn’t say anything, not one thing. Her silence hurt Dean more than he had been when he didn’t hear from her all summer. This wasn’t the Cass he knew, the Cass he knew was kind and always spoke up for her friends and those who couldn’t defend themselves. What had happened to her since he saw her at the World Cup?

“Go fuck yourself, Malfoy,” Dean scowled. Malfoy smirked before walking into The Great Hall, Cass and Astoria followed him in and Cass didn’t even look in his direction.

The three boys huffed out a surprised sigh and Dean noticed that Neville looked crestfallen as they walked into The Great Hall. There was silence among them until they sat down on the cold stone benches and Neville began toying with his golden cutlery, “why didn’t she say anything? She heard what Malfoy said, she was right there. Do you think she’s alright?”

Neville’s voice was almost breaking and it saddened Dean, Cass had been the only Slytherin that had been kind to Neville, the only Slytherin that he hadn’t been shit scared of. Dean frowned and looked over at the Slytherin table to find her laughing with her friends and it made Dean angry, but he also knew that something else must be going on.

“I’m going to find out what’s wrong Neville, I promise.”

The first time that Dean had tried to talk to her was after their first Defence against the Dark Arts class with the auror, Mad-eye Moody. He was intense after having just performed the three unforgivable curses. When he said as much to Cass, she only smiled tightly before taking off down the corridor quickly.

Dean soon got tired of her endless silence so he ended up cornering her at the Yule Ball, and in hindsight he wished that he hadn’t. She looked very beautiful in silk robes of blood red, making a stark contrast against the perfect white snow. Dean’s heart thumped faster every time he looked at her but he wouldn’t let that distract him, he needed answers.

“Cass, talk to me. Why are you constantly pushing me away this year? I know things must be difficult right now with your family but I’m here for you, please just talk to me,” he rubbed his hands over her cold arms as they stood in the beautiful sparkling winter gardens.

“Dean,” she sighed, biting her lip before she rearranged her face so she looked terribly unmoved, “we shouldn’t be friends anymore, Thomas,” her voice was as cold as the winter wind.

“What?” Dean burst out laughing, this was some kind of joke, it had to be, “you’re joking right?”

“No,” her voice didn’t break or waver, in fact she looked bored, as if they were only making small talk, “I’m not joking.”

A pang of hurt jolted in Dean’s chest and he frowned at her, “come on, Cass,” he scoffed, “what did I do wrong?” Dean almost cringed at how small and pathetic his voice sounded so he cleared his throat, “you have to tell me.”

Cass shrugged, the eyes that had once been warm and soft were now hard as she looked down at her nails and kicked at a drift of snow, “I’m a Slytherin, I have to make the right choices, and you, well you’re…” she trailed off and looked up at him, her eyes roaming over him in a way that made him feel small.

What had happened to her? She was every inch the Slytherin now. In a flash, red hot anger replaced his sadness and he scoffed as he narrowed his eyes at her, “is this because I’m a Gryffindor? Or is because I’m a muggle born? Or, a mudblood as you and your friends would call me.”

Cass  had the grace to look taken aback and her eyes softened ever so slightly as she dropped them to the snowy ground, “I would never call you that,” she muttered but when she looked back up at him, her face was hard again, “we’re too different Dean, eventually we’ll go down different paths, it’s inevitable. What if Voldemort comes back? My dad’s parents were his biggest supporters, if he comes back and discovers that I’m friends with you…,” she trailed off and looked away from him as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Dean rolled his eyes, he knew where this was going and he didn’t like the ending, “you’re ashamed of me, aren’t you? Say it.”

Cass looked back at him with alarm in her eyes as the wind blew through her perfectly styled hair, “no, Dean. That’s not it.”

But, Dean shook his head as he cut her off, he’d heard enough, it was amazing how quickly he could turn against her. He was still hurt but he was angry too, angry that she thought he was unworthy, “finally, I can see who you are. I can see you clearly, I thought you were different but it turns out that you’re just like the people you claim to hate.”

There was hurt in her eyes but Dean didn’t care, he just watched her as she walked closer, “that’s settled then, goodbye Dean. Merry Christmas,” she whispered and then she was gone, with a swish of her blood red skirts.

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

You shoved your hands in your coat pockets as you passed the bustling pretty centre of Hogsmeade, a particularly harsh gust of wind made you look wistfully at The Three Broomsticks. You tried not to think about the fact that it would be wonderfully warm inside and the piping hot Butterbeer would warm your body from the inside out.

Glancing behind you, you saw Astoria miserably trailing behind you and you caught the scathing glare she sent you from beneath her woollen scarf. You laughed as you shook your head as you both walked to the outskirts of the wizarding village. It was pretty out here, there were fewer cottages here with huge overgrown gardens. You would like to live in a cottage one day, a cottage with a rose garden with a pretty thatched roof. You also wanted a garden that was big enough so you could grow your own fruit and vegetables.

It wasn’t often that you came this far out of the village, you were headed to The Hog’s Head, and Hermione had asked you to meet her there and to bring only those that you trusted. Those who wouldn’t speak a word to Umbridge and Astoria were the only one that you trusted like that. Astoria hated Umbridge and the fact that the class weren’t using defensive magic, so she was a pretty safe bet. According to Hermione, she, Harry and Ron all had something to say and you knew it must be important if they were going to so much effort.

“Remind me again why we’re freezing to death in the arse end of Hogsmeade, Cass,” Astoria grumbled from beneath her thick scarf.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you slowed down so you were walking side by side, “I told you, Hermione and the others have got something to say, and I think we should hear it. If you don’t want to stay you can go but just don’t tell Pansy or anyone for that matter.”

Astoria scoffed softly as she shook her head, “I’m not leaving you, I admit this thing could be worth my time and please, I never talk to Pansy unless it’s absolutely necessary and even then, I hate her.”

You grimaced as you both walked into the pub and found that it was only slightly warmer than it was outside and it smelt of mud and hay. The Weasley twins greeted you at the door with identical grinning faces and they offered you a dirty bottle of Butterbeer, “thanks guys,” you smiled as you took it graciously. Astoria made a face at the dirty glass and she shook her head as she slipped past.

You picked your way through the small crowd and the three Gryffindors smiled at you when they realised you had come. Astoria scowled as she folded her arms and stood by your side, shaking her head but you knew that she wouldn’t leave.

“Cass, what are you doing here?” Dean laughed as he stood at your side and you noticed that he was glancing down at your scarred hand which was feeling much better, thanks to him. You almost flushed at the memory and it felt like you had both bonded a little.

You shrugged as you took a sip of Butterbeer and winced, you didn’t like it too much when it was cold, you made a mental note to go to The Three Broomsticks after this, “Hermione asked me to come, she said that it was important. She also implied that it would piss off Umbridge,” you laughed and Dean smirked.

“Any excuse, hey?”

“Absolutely,” you laughed, relishing in the way his eyes crinkled at the sides and his precious dimples made an appearance, you couldn’t get enough of him. You only waited a couple more minutes before quite a lot of other people came into the pub and Hermione finally began talking.

She started off by saying that they needed a proper teacher considering Voldemort was back and they needed to know proper defensive magic. When she mentioned Voldemort being back, a couple of people scoffed and grumbled but Hermione shut them up with a shrewd look that seemed to channel McGonagall. You had to admit that she was right, you had to protect yourselves, and you would not be on the side on Voldemort.

When Hermione told everyone that Harry could produce a proper Patronus, you gaped, that was very impressive magic, you didn’t know how to do that, “that’s amazing Harry!” at your words he flushed and shook his head.

“I’m not here to brag or anything,” he laughed nervously, “but with Voldemort being back, we need a chance to beat him or he’ll kill us all. No one should have to die like Cedric, which is why Hermione thinks it’s best that we start a club where we can learn defensive magic together. Of course, we’ll work around Quidditch practice and everything like that but I think it’s a good idea.”

It was soon settled, Hermione would let everyone know when they had a date for the first meeting and she urged everyone to keep a look out for a place where they could practice where Umbridge wouldn’t find them. You looked at Astoria who stared back at you with excitement in her eyes, “let’s do it, Cass!”

“Absolutely,” you grinned and you both made your way to the sign-up sheet. You laughed at the name, ‘Dumbledore’s Army,’ as you signed your name.

Dean had a smile on his handsome face as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his pretty eyes gleamed as he looked at you, “I’m surprised that the both of you want to join,” he nodded at both you and Astoria.

You bit your lip and smiled at him, “of course we want to join. Do you think that just because we’re Slytherins that we’re on Voldemort’s side?”

Dean shrugged as he made a face, “I’m just pleasantly surprised Cass, I’ll see you later,” he nodded at you as he walked out into the cold weather.

Astoria smirked at you as she waggled her eyebrows, “Merlin, he is so hot, Cass. Let me know if you ever stop pining for him.”

You giggled as you linked your arm through hers, “come on, let’s go to the Three Broomsticks.”

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

@approved-by-dentists​ @thefuturelawyer​ @a-miserable-hufflepunk​ @firelordmillie​ @seriouslysiriuss​ @sleep-i-ness​ @play-morezeppelin​ @pregnant-piggy​ @sleepingalaska​ @blisfvlll​ @rexorangecouny​ @findzelda​ @wangmangagavroche​ @hxrgreeves​ @ghostofstudentspast​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @my-unique-mind​ @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass​ @kashishwrites​ @fific7​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @siriusblackspam​ @mads-bri​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​ @golddustwoman3​ @tinymalscoffee​ @ur-riddikulus​ @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @ourloveisforthelovely​ @wheezyreads​ @artemis1orion​ @sushiims​ @aspiringsloth20​ @queenl04​ @smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​

[brunhiddensmusings]

What about Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves? I love that movie because it's such a wild ride (Satanists! Secret brothers! Secret mothers! And cancel Christmas!) but I distinctly remember a LOT of sutff that could probably make a historian scream. Also, how about The Eagle and/or The Last Legion, if you watched either of them?

engaging requested historical movie based rant in 3,2,1 okay, that movie is a beautiful MESS and its hard to pick somewhere to start partially as i cant decide to criticize it against the history of the period its supposed to be or as an adaptation of the legend, both of which it varries wildly as i could talk about how inconsistent it was about who robin hood was or what the merry men were about, chiefly that the concept that robin hood gave what he stole to the poor didnt arise untill about the late 1600s when people dressing up as robin hood and crew to recreate his stories became essentially the precursor to the renesance faire where such events would draw wealthy spectators who would then ‘pay tribute’ to robin hood who would then use that money to buy drinks for all the players eg ‘the poor’ as a compensation for the performance but no, i cant reasonably get too mad at that because its not widely enough known to actually expect people who make movies to know, id be more mad about how they insisted on making robin meet all his merry men as the movie goes on meaning none of them have more then a few days of backstory, and even more mad they insist on making all the non-named merry men illiterate morons, and more mad that they decided to amazingly actually include will scarlet but not have him do anything of note other then the drama about being a brother, and beyond that the part that actually gets me mad is you included will scarlet but not alan adale? thats a baffling missed opportunity considering you put the effort into making it an actual crew and not five guys in the woods, why the fuck not have a minstrel prancing around? the freaking disney furry one got that part better then you did and he didnt even interact with the main cast! i will give a few honorable praises to this movie though as friar tuck is possibly the most accurate friar tuck in any movie ive seen so far considering in the legends the first thing he does when he meets robin is put on a helmet and scream ‘have at ye’ while charging with his sword cause the friar is down to brawl with anyone at anytime. also his first appearance in the movie hes singing a rendition of bacce benne, the oldest known drinking song we know both the lyrics and tune of, which at the time would have been how tavernkeepers knew you were still sober enough to give another round to the irony of that statement being robin hood was largely circulated as drinking songs in taverns, and a medieval man replied to an accusation of him being stupid by saying ‘nah mate, i know all 70+ verses of the song of robin hood’ much like someone today would say ‘nah mate ive seen every episode of the simpsons up till season 12′ to prove he was up to current events i could get mad that everyone and everything is brown brown BROWN, nothing but rags for clothing half the time and the houses look like they congealed out of mud thats afraid of windows, but ive grown to accept that kind of garbage aesthetic choices that are somehow inferior to monty python and the holy grail depicting how people dressed. i also cant be mad about how they portrayed the sherrif, despite at the time a sherrif would have been a shire reeve or sherriv which the whole point of him being in the story is that hes more or less a corrupt union rep who is technically supposed to be the one the villagers rely on to relay their complaints and demands to the local lord but is instead a crony of the nobility appointed to a position that hes supposed to be elected to by his peers.... but to be fair it would make the story hard to process in a movie if sherrif wasnt sherrif. no, what im going to get the most mad about is their batshit crazy satanist witch i know witches (two kinds), i know satanists (two kinds), i know medieval society, and none of the above would for a minute agree with any of how the freaky ass nutbag making eyeball soup worked in t his movie. holy shit, you just threw whatever you wanted at a wall to see what stuck didnt you, the upside down cross is a common image in actual catholocism its literally everywhere at the vatacin and would have been as offensive to a medieval person as a beetroot, the medieval peasantry wouldnt even have been very putoff by witches as for the most part a witch was either your aunt or your chief source of medical coverage or both so you usually gave a ‘witch’ respect and bought your beer from her at reasonable rates. literally the only thing of the witch scene that is at all related to anything sane is the blood runes, which also make no sense as the runestones involved are norse but the practice of blood shouldnt be even known about by a witch in Essex, if you had wanted to imply how evil the badguys were in the movie theres better ways to do it in fact you already did that without agnes nutters more insane cousin arranging sticks in blair witch, if you wanted to imply fortune telling or magic was at their disposal theres about a dozen better ways to have done that too

yall just raided Elviras prop department when she wasnt looking didnt ya

[tedddylupin]

merry christmas you filthy animal

When Alex draws Henry's name for Secret Santa he realizes he knows nothing about him so of course he takes the week to gather information while also giving him an education on Christmas movies that he was never able to watch growing up.

Notes: This goes out to the lovely Chelsea for the Holiday Exchange on the RWRB discord!! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had writing it!

Read on AO3

“Okay so tell me why we’re doing this again? And why is he here?” Alex whispered to June and she looked back at Henry who was standing with Pez and Nora.

“Because we needed and even number and Pez says he’s cool alright? We’ve been out with him a few times and yeah he’s quiet but he’s fun. Plus he’s Bea’s brother so obviously he’s gotta be cool.” June rolled her eyes.

“Well I’ve never been out with him more than like twice.” Alex muttered.

“That’s because you’re a lil bitch who says no if you have to drive somewhere in the dark.”

“Excuse me for not having the extra money to go get my eyes checked June.” Alex pursed his lips.

“Oh my god.” She said mostly to herself before clapping her hands. “Alright, alright gather round. Time to pick Secret Santa.” She held out a Santa hat that held little slips of paper and shook it slightly. “The only rule is you can’t get yourself.”

“I would be the best gift giver for myself.” Alex said and June rolled her eyes again.

She went around and everyone drew a name, leaving Alex with the last slip. He took it and unfolded it.

Henry

“Everyone’s work for them?” June asked and everyone nodded before she looked at Alex. “Alex?”

“Um…” He said before June let out an exasperated sound.

“Did you draw yourself?”

“No but-”

“Then good, everyone’s works. Now you have two weeks to get a gift for our next dinner night and make sure not to tell people what you got for them or reveal who your person’s name is.” June smiled brightly.

“Can we eat now?” Nora raised her hand.

“Yes, let’s fucking eat.” Pez slapped his hands together and rubbed them quickly.

Everyone gathered into the kitchen except Alex who hung back after noticing Henry was too.

“You not eating?” He asked, sidling up to the annoyingly taller man.

“I am, I just figured I’d let everyone else get some first. I’m not super hungry.” Henry shrugged and gave him a smile that Alex wanted to narrow his eyes at but in the spirit of Christmas, he did not.

“Big lunch?”

“Yeah,” Henry didn’t offer anything home.

“Uh huh...right well I’m gonna eat.” Alex finally did narrow his eyes for a moment before brightening, and then he pushed forward. He grabbed a few slices of the pizza and sat down on the floor in front of the TV, leaving the couch for the girls. He looked up when Henry sat down next to him against the chair that Pez had occupied.

“Everyone shut the fuck up and watch.” Nora interrupted the chatter and pressed play on the classic Jim Carrey version of the Grinch. The only one that Alex would acknowledge.

During the movie Alex kept looking over at Henry who was enraptured.

“You look like you’ve never seen this before.” He whispered to Henry at the peril of getting slapped upside the head by Nora.

“That’s because I haven’t.” Henry whispered back, leaning toward Alex but not taking his eyes off the TV.

“The fuck? Are you serious?” Alex’s voice rose and then he did get that slap upside the head. “Sorry, but Henry just casually mentioned he’s never seen this movie before.”

Everyone gasped and Henry shrugged self-consciously. “We didn’t watch a lot of Christmas movies growing up.”

Bea nodded in agreement. “It’s true.”

“Fucking hell, alright well you’re going to have an intervention this week after work.” Alex poked Henry hard on the bicep and the man protested only slightly in pain before nodding his agreement.

“Getting in your fingers I see. Pray tell who did you get for Secret Santa Alex?” June caught him after the movie as they were throwing away the trash.

“You know I don’t go easy on Secret Santa June. I gotta get intel and this is the best way to do it.” Alex whispered back. He stuck out his tongue when June annoyingly gave him a knowing look but said nothing.

So Alex texted Henry the next day and of course the man showed up punctual as ever. It was almost suspicious how on time he was. Then again, Alex was known for showing up exactly ten minutes late to have the perfect air of ‘yes I want to be here but I want you to acknowledge me when I walk through the door’.

“Hey man.” Alex opened the door to where Henry was standing, admiring the wreath that Nora had made him.

“Hello.” Henry brightened and stepped inside as Alex moved to let him in. Henry slipped off his knit hat and ran a hand through his hair that had become mussed underneath it. It was annoying how attractive that was but Alex had always had a bit of a kink for knit hats and messy hair so he ignored it.

“I’d thought we’d watch Elf today. You haven’t seen that one right?” Alex began to talk over his shoulder as he walked into the living room, assuming Henry would close the door behind him and follow suit.

“Er, no, I haven’t.” Henry said as he quickly got the hint judging by the way Alex could hear the door shut and quickened footsteps.

“Good, because we only have two weeks to catch you up.” Alex turned quickly in the ball of his foot like a drill sergeant and Henry had to stop himself abruptly so he wouldn’t crash into Alex.

“Sir yes sir.” Henry saluted and Alex snickered.

“Please never do that ever again.”

“Yeah it felt wrong as soon as I did it.”

The two settled down on the couch and began to watch Will Ferrell as the most wholesome elf. Alex wondered if Henry would be a bit like Buddy if he was an elf. He found himself studying the man more than actually watching the movie but he reasoned that this was because he needed to figure out what Henry would actually want as a gift. He could mark knit hat off the list because obviously Henry already owned one.

“So are you a big drinker? I only ask because if we’re going to do all these movies in such a short amount of time it would be nice to have some alcohol to go with it right?” Alex mused, mostly poking at Henry’s interests. A bottle of wine would be a nice gift.

“Nah I’m not really a bit drinker. Usually just special occasions and not during the work week. I honestly think I might be allergic to alcohol but it’s worth it for big events.” Henry said, not looking at Alex, instead watching the movie.

“Oh alright then.” Alex said though inside he was grumbling to himself.

Soon the movie ended and they both stood up.

“This time tomorrow?” Henry asked as he pulled on his jacket followed by his knit hat.

“Yup, I’ll be treating you to a holiday classic set in your home country.” Alex grinned.

“I can’t wait for them to butcher my culture.” Henry grinned back before waving goodbye, leaving Alex alone at the door wondering where this personality came from.

Perhaps he had written Henry off too quickly but the two times he had hung out with him before in the group his voice had gotten talked over. Perhaps the man was just more of a listener unless he was the sole focus. Alex couldn’t comprehend that. He much preferred to be the center of attention. Still, he could respect Henry a bit more now. Even if he could be a bit of a bore in a crowd.

“So the movie is Love Actually and you will actually love it.” Alex said as Henry walked in the next day.

“Ba dum tiss.” Henry responded quickly, hands making the drum motions.

“I know, I know, I’ll be here all week.” Alex grinned over his shoulder.

Henry sat down on the couch on one end with Alex on the other. Yet again Alex found himself watching Henry more than the movie. He had to laugh every time Henry scoff indignantly.

“This is terrible. Poor Emma Thompson. She is a national treasure!” Henry moaned as he put his head in his hands while poor Emma listened to Jodie Mitchell.

Alex snickered. “Earlier I lied. You definitely will not enjoy this movie. The whole poster scene? Terrible.”

“This is evil of you.” Henry frowned.

“Don’t worry, tomorrow’s movie will be much better and will also be set in your country.” Alex grinned as they idled by the door.

“Right, well. Tomorrow’s Friday. Do you want to include some alcohol this time?” Henry asked a little nervously.

“I thought you said you didn’t do alcohol.”

“Well this is a special occasion right? An actually good Christmas movie set in my country unless you’re trying to pull my leg again.” Henry narrowed his eyes in a warning.

Alex held up his hands. “I pinky promise, this one is great. What sort of alcohol do you like?”

“I’ll bring the wine. Nora keeps trying to give me wine and I keep saying yes because I feel bad and don’t know how to tell her to stop.”

“Well shit, bring it all over. Free wine for me.” Alex laughed and Henry grinned and Alex was left with the sneaky thought that Henry didn’t smile that smile just for anyone, otherwise the room would be lit up all the time.

Alex found himself surfing the internet at work the next day trying to figure out a good Secret Santa gift for Henry. He now knew that Henry had a dog named David but David didn’t like treats and it did feel rather wrong to get a human a dog present. He also knew that Henry was a Star Wars fan but hated collectibles because they were too lame and he apparently hated clutter.

He let out an annoyed groan and clicked out of the tab. Whatever. Whatever right? He would get something lame and cheap and call it good.

He gritted his teeth.

No, he was not one to go cheap. He was an excellent gift giver and he was going to make it extra special dammit.

Henry stepped into the apartment that night easily carrying at least five bottles of wine. “I felt like a lush strolling up with all these in my arms.” He said as he carefully set the wine down.

“Nora has good taste.” Alex said appreciatively as he got the wine opener and opened a bottle of pinot noir. “You’ll like this one I think. Not too dry but not too sweet either.”

“The Goldilocks of wine if you will.” Henry said as he took the glass from Alex.

“Exactly my friend.” Alex clinked his glass together and then brought the bottle out to the living room. The Holiday was already cued up as they sat down on the couch together.

“Oh that is definitely not Surrey. Maybe outskirts of Surrey but not Surrey.” Henry scoffed as they watched the movie. Alex giggled, his cheeks warm from the wine. He was already a glass and a half in with Henry keeping time with him.

“So indignant.”

“Whatever, at least Jude Law is very nice to look at.” Henry sighed. “Now he’s a national treasure.”

“What about Kate Winslet?” Alex frowned.

“Nope, can’t do it. She’s pretty yes, but her in real life? Not good.” Henry shook his head. “Jude Law is still just as handsome. I could get lost in his blue eyes.”

“Him and Cameron would have amazing blue eyed children.” Alex nodded. He had somehow sunk down into the couch, Henry much closer this night as they kept getting up to get more wine and moving closer each time.

“Yeah I suppose.” Henry murmured. “Do you think Jude’s attractive?”

Alex was silent for a moment. He didn’t know Henry that well. Not really anyways. Nora and June knew he was bisexual but he had never told Pez and Bea and definitely not Henry. He wondered if this was a prod from Henry to see if he was attracted to men. He supposed if Henry was going to stick around what did it hurt?

“He’s oozing sexiness. If there was any instance I could kiss Jude Law with that tan and that slightly curly hair I would do it in a heartbeat.” Alex said with confidence, looking over at Henry who brightened at his words.

“Ditto on that one.”

Huh. Interesting.

“I don’t think I can move. The room’s spinning.” Henry groaned when the movie was over.

“You wanna crash here for the night?” Alex asked, his own words slurring a bit. They had gone through two bottles of wine and both were feeling it.

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah, better than you getting yourself hurt trying to get home.” Alex waved him off. “I’ll get some blankets, you can take the couch. You aren’t going to throw up are you?”

“A lady never throws up.” Henry frowned, his face scrunched up in the cutest little way and Alex was a bit floored by it.

“I’ll bring you a trashcan. You don’t much look like a lady.”

“Rude. I would never put out on the first date.” Henry closed his eyes.

“Oh is this a date then?” Alex said, amused.

“Obviously you haven’t been paying attention.” Henry murmured and then promptly fell asleep. Alex watched him for a moment and even in his slightly drunken haze he wondered what it would be like to actually go on a date with Henry. He was kind and funny and much more interesting than he had originally given him credit for.

He sucked in a breath and forced himself to move away, only to come back and spread a blanket across Henry’s sleeping body and to set a trashcan by the man’s head. He reached out, fingers itching to brush back the blonde locks but he caught himself in time, pulling back and quickly exiting the room.

It was only when he was back in the safety of his bedroom did he let himself let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and closed his eyes.

He was drunk. It was fine.

“What’s this? Breakfast in bed?” Henry mumbled as Alex plopped on the couch next to him, holding a mug of coffee in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

“Don’t think you’re special. I don’t actually own a table so the couch is all I got. Hope you like chai tea because it’s either that or coffee.”

Henry wrinkled his nose at the mention of chai tea and Alex gave him a warning look. “Chai is fine.” He quickly said as he sat up only to groan and grab his head.

Alex pulled out a couple of tylenol out of his pocket and set it on the coffee table. “Got you those too.”

“Bless you.” Henry muttered as he knocked them back with a sip of the tea. “I should probably go.”

“Excuse you, we are having a movie marathon whilst you attempt to recover from...this.” Alex gestured vaguely towards Henry who narrowed his eyes.

“If I couldn’t hear my pulse pounding in my head right now you’d be getting a lecture.” Henry frowned and Alex only laughed.

He hit play on Christmas Vacation and settled back into the couch to watch the Griswolds totally fuck up their Christmas with some slapstick humor that even got Henry laughing even though he winced right after doing said laughing.

He followed that with The Santa Clause, one of his favorites.

“It’s great because Scott Calvin is honestly the worst but he quickly becomes the best.” Alex explained with a knowing look. He and Henry were eating Chinese food, something Henry had actually requested despite Alex’s surprise.

“Isn’t that how all Christmas movies go?” Henry asked, mouth full of lo mein.

“Quite possibly. You might be onto something there.” Alex pointed at Henry with his chopsticks and grinned.

They continued on with The Santa Clause 2 and then ended the night with Home Alone.

“I still can’t believe you haven’t seen any of these very iconic movies. They get referenced even outside the holiday season.” Alex said, his voice muffled from the pillow that his head was resting on. Henry and him were both lying on opposite ends of the couch, their legs meeting in the middle.

“Call me a sheltered child I guess. Christmas was never a big holiday in my house. My family isn’t like yours. I only really like Bea and Pez just kinda happened along the way.” Henry shrugged, his voice muffled as well.

Alex studied Henry for a long moment. “You know, you’re different than what I expected.”

Henry looked back at Alex. “Oh yeah? How so?”

Alex scooted up a bit on the couch so that he was sitting up. “I thought you were this prissy private school Englishman who didn’t give the time of day to people that you didn’t grow up around.”

Henry sat up as well. “Did you really? I’m definitely not that.”

“Well I know that now. You’re much cooler than people give you credit for. I think you’re just shy. In your defense though I’m way too loud for people most of the time. I can be a lot.” Alex shrugged.

Henry pulled his knees to his chest and leaned his head on the top of them. “I will admit I did think that when I first met you. You’re intimidating.”

“And now?”

Henry tilted his head a bit, his blonde hair falling over his forehead. “Now that I know you’re a giant nerd you’re much less intimidating.”

Alex let out a bark of laughter and hit Henry with his pillow who of course had to hit back with his own pillow. The continued the pillow fight until Alex was suddenly pinned under Henry and they were both laughing and breathing hard and Alex was left with a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat and Henry sat back, letting him go.

“I should probably get going.” Henry said, standing up quickly.

Alex stood as well. “Well this was fun. I’m down for doing another movie marathon soon. It doesn’t even have to be a Christmas one.” He said, somewhat shyly.

Henry shrugged into his coat and pulled on his knit cap. “Yeah it was fun. I don’t think I can come over until Tuesday though. Unless my education in Christmas movies is finished?”

“Oh no, we have two more to go.” Alex shook his head and Henry gave him a soft smile.

“Right, Tuesday then.”

And then he was gone and Alex was left alone with his thoughts and still wracking his brain for a Secret Santa gift.

“Alright so what’s this one then?” Henry asked as he sat down on the couch without being offered.

“A Christmas Story.” Alex said as he handed Henry a mug of actual Earl Grey that he had actually gone out to buy.

“Wow, what a lovely gift, thank you.” Henry grinned as he took a sip. Alex had his own chai and they settled in to watch the movie. Of course Alex fell asleep towards the end, work having kicked his ass this week.

He felt someone lightly tapping his shoulder and he let out a noise of annoyance.

“Alex?”

“Hm?” He asked, sleepily opening his eyes.

Henry was standing over him with his coat on. “I’m going to head out. See you tomorrow for our last movie?”

“Oh, yeah okay. Sorry I fell asleep.” He rubbed his eyes and sat up.

“It’s okay, you didn’t snore hardly at all.” Henry gave him a cheeky grin and Alex swatted him.

“Shut up.”

“See ya.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow Hen.” He murmured. He didn’t even notice Henry freezing at the nickname.

When Henry came the next day Alex gestured him inside.

“Oh wow, you went all out huh?” Henry slipped off his knit cap and looked at the set up. There was tea along with a charcuterie board and a platter of cookies.

“Gotta celebrate you becoming a man!” Alex laughed and Henry rolled his eyes as he sat down on the couch. Alex sat down next to him.

“Okay this last one is an all time classic and it’s a little sad in the middle but it’s got a good ending.” Alex explained as Henry stole a sugar cookie. He hit play on It’s a Wonderful Life and began to pile his paper plate (because he was cheap and didn’t own more than two actual plates which were dirty) with meats and cheeses and sweets.

Henry did the same and then they both sat back and took in the black and white classic.

When the credits started to roll Alex turned towards Henry. “So?”

“It was good. I do love old movies sometimes. They don’t make them like that anymore.” Henry said with a sigh of nostalgia.

“Nope, they sure don’t.” Alex agreed. “I’m a little sad that your education is over though.”

“You know you’ll see me tomorrow for the Secret Santa right?” Henry smirked at him and Alex looked down, picking at a loose thread on the blanket.

“Yeah, I know, but I did like having you over every night.”

Henry gave him a slow smile. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Alex shrugged. “Guess that just means you’ll have to educate me on something.”

“Have you ever seen Lord of the Rings?”

“Nope.” Alex grinned while Henry let out a wounded noise.

“Alright, after the holidays we’re watching that first thing.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Alex nodded.

Henry left shortly after, taking a bag of cookies with him. He knew he would see the man the next day but it still felt sad watching Henry keep going out that door.

The next night he dressed up as per June’s slightly scary voicemail. He walked into June and Nora’s apartment with his platter of cookies and found that he was the last one to arrive.

“Fucking finally mate!” Pez called out and everyone turned to witness his walk of shame.

“I hit every red light okay?” He protested.

“Likely story.” Henry grinned and Alex couldn’t help the way his face brightened when he saw the man walk into the room. “More cookies?”

“Yup, more cookies. Since that’s basically all I can bake.” He shrugged and Henry laughed.

“Better than me, I assure you.”

Alex gave him a soft smile before June, Nora, and Bea interrupted.

“Are those the peanut butter cookies?” June asked as she peered over the tray.

“Oh hell yes.” Nora swiped the tray out of Alex’s hands, ignoring his sounds of protest.

“Before we eat though, we’re going to do Secret Santa so everyone grab your gifts.” June clapped her hands together and Alex was starting to get nervous.

He watched as everyone handed over their gift. Pez got June and gave her a beautiful necklace that was way over the budget. Nora got Bea and gave her a cheese tray with a little knife to go with it. June got Alex who gave him a nice silk tie ‘to match his eyes’ as she explained. Henry got Pez and gave him two tumblers which also looked outside the budget. Bea got Nora and gave her a new headset for her gaming.

“Did everyone get their gift?” June asked.

Alex could feel Henry’s eyes on him.

“Yep.” Henry said and Alex turned towards him quickly. “Later.” He mouthed to Alex who nodded.

They got their food and the entire apartment was alive with laughter and talk and Christmas music in the background.

It was after that Alex brought Henry aside.

“I guess you figured out I got you for Secret Santa.” He said awkwardly, not looking into Henry’s eyes.

“Yes, I can do math.” Henry said with a wry smile. “Is that why you brought me over for movies these last two weeks?”

“Well, that’s how it started out, but after the first two days I found I just wanted to hang out with you but every time I tried to get intel on what you would want for a gift you kept saying things that would make it seem like you wouldn’t like what I was thinking for you and I didn’t want to give you some lame ass gift that would just collect dust and I-” Alex rambled until suddenly he was pulled forward and he felt lips against his own.

He let out a surprised noise and his eyes were open as Henry kissed him and then he melted into the kiss because A. Henry was a good kisser surprisingly and B. He had been wanting to do that himself but he was too chicken shit to do it.

Henry pulled back and Alex opened his eyes, not knowing when he had actually closed them.

“Uh...wow okay.” Alex started, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s your gift to me.” Henry said and Alex looked at him, confused. “I’ve been wanting to do that honestly since I first met you. You light up every room you’re in Alex and when you kept inviting me over for movies I felt like...well I had won a prize or something. I don’t care that you didn’t give me a physical gift because spending this time with you the last two weeks has been more than enough for me.”

Alex was left stunned. “Wait, really? You’ve thought that about me?”

Henry shrugged, a blush starting to form across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Well, yeah. I just didn’t think you were interested in guys so I didn’t say anything, but then you talked about kissing Jude Law-”

“Oh Jude Law.” Alex said dreamily.

“Hey, pay attention. Pouring my heart out here.” Henry snapped his fingers and Alex stood at attention and nodded. “Anyways, when you said that I thought I had a chance.”

Alex took a step closer and took Henry’s hands. “You definitely have more than a chance because I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you fell asleep on my couch and told me you don’t put out on the first date.” He grinned.

“Wait, shit, did I really say that?”

Alex nodded with a giant grin. “Yup. Now why don’t you ignore that and kiss me again.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

Henry leaned down again for another kiss and Alex sighed into it, leaning his body into Henry who was so annoyingly tall but so well built to hold him up.

As he kissed Henry he heard the sounds of his friends around him and the faint whispers of music and he knew that this would be the first of many great Christmases to come.

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

“I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” ~ A Modern Santa!Negan AU One-Shot

Request: Where it’s Christmas time and Negan and the reader have a daughter together and they are trying to get her to sleep but she wants to meet Santa and they keep saying he won’t stop if you’re awake.

Requested By: @mychemicalimagines

Summary: Negan, you, and y’all’s little girl all enjoy a surprise filled Christmas together.

Warning(s): Fluff. Language. Sexual innuendos and tension.

Word Count: 8,450 words!

Author’s Note(s): Merry Christmas (or Happy Holidays, whichever you prefer)! Here’s a little one-shot that @mychemicalimagines asked me to write, and since it’s Christmas, I figured I’d go ahead and try to crank this out in time for the holidays! Also, @mychemicalimagines helped me write this, so thanks, bud, for the help! I enjoyed havin’ the chance to write with you. :) 

Relationship(s): Negan x Reader (Married). Negan x Emily (Father/Daughter). Reader x Emily (Mother/Daughter)

Characters: Negan. Reader. Emily (OFC).

Taglist: @negans-network @thamberlina @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines

Story Time:

Negan’s POV:

“Please, daddy? I just wanna see Santa!” My little girl pleads, jumping up into my lap.

I look at you sitting next to me on Emily’s bed. You look at me, with a small grin on your face. Your look tells me that I’m on my own for this. I let out a quiet sigh as I look down at our daughter. She looks up me, waiting for my answer. I place a hand on her back. 

I bit my bottom lip as I think. I smirk as I come up with the perfect plan. I look at Emily.

“Alright. Let’s make a fuckin’ deal, yeah?” I ask.

She nods. “Ok!”

“You can stay up until 10:30 tonight, to try and see Santa, but just know that he’s not gonna fuckin’ show up until you’re sound asleep, like a good little girl.”

“Ok!”

Emily’s so fuckin’ excited, but I know she won’t be able to keep her eyes open long ‘nough to see the clock say 10:30 pm. Besides, that’s only two hours away, and I can already tell that she’s exhausted. She’s been fighting sleep since we finished baking cookies for Santa earlier. 

She kisses my cheek and I hug her tightly.

“Go ahead and give your ma a fuckin’ hug and kiss goodnight too, sweetheart.” I say.

She hops out of my lap and climbs into yours. She flings her little arms ‘round your neck and hugs you while peppering your cheek with a bunch of little kisses, which has you chuckling. I laugh too. It’s adorable, seeing you with our daughter always makes me happy and tonight is no different.

In fact, tonight’s even more special. The three of us have matching pajamas on. Emily found ‘em when she saw them in Target when the two of y’all went shopping yesterday for some last minute cookie ingredients. They’re red silk with little reindeers on ‘em that have green little scarves ‘round their necks.

The pants have a little red ribbon drawstring to tighten ‘em ‘round the waist. The shirts have cute little green buttons, and the sleeves are long with a little white ribbon stitched ‘round the cuffs. The collar folds down at the neck, and offers a view of the collarbone. 

Emily has her shirt buttoned all the way up. You only have the top button undone. As for me, well, I have the top three undone, per your request. You love to see my chest hair peek out from under my shirts. I’m not one to deny you. Emily crawls from your lap and settles back in mine, wrapping her legs ‘round my waist, and her arms ‘round the middle of my torso.

She lays her head on my shoulder. I gently rub her back.

“I love you, daddy.” She murmurs, sleepily.

“I love you too, baby girl.” I reply, kissing the top of her head.

She snuggles up to me even more. Not even ten minutes later, she’s sound asleep in my arms. I let out a chuckle. I knew she wouldn’t make it to 10:30 pm and still be awake. Hearing you giggle, I glance over at you. You just grin and shake your head.

“You knew she wouldn’t stay awake, didn’t you?” You tease.

“Yup!” I say, making the “P” pop.

You laugh. “Alright. Well, I do believe it’s time for Santa to make his appearance.”

I chuckle. “You might be fuckin’ onto somethin’ there, sweetheart.”

You grin, lean over, and kiss my cheek before you stand up. I shift, holding Emily in my arm still. You pull the covers back on her bed, and I gently lay her down, covering her up. I place a soft kiss on her forehead before following you to our room. 

You close the door once we’re in there, and I start unbuttoning my pajama shirt. You watch with a lustful look in your eyes. I chuckle and do a bit of a striptease for you as I finish undressing. You bite your bottom lip.

“I get my present later, right?” You ask, seductively.

I smirk. “Depends. You’ll have to ask Santa real nicely.”

You grin. “Oh. I will. And, I know Santa will fuckin’ give me what I want.”

I growl playfully, and tug you towards me. I kiss you before walking over to our closet. I slide the doors open and look inside for the Santa Claus costume you bought for me a couple years ago. Thankfully my body ain’t changed much so I should be able to still fit in it properly. 

I snag the hanger, and carry the suit over to our bed. I glance up, taking the suit jacket off the hanger first so I can get to the pants. I slip ‘em on over my black and white spotted boxers. You always seem to giggle whenever I wear ‘em, and although you won’t tell me why, I still wear ‘em as often as I can, just so I can hear your cute as fuckin’ shit giggle.

I grab one of my white t-shirts from the dresser and shove my head and arms through the proper holes. Once my head pops through the top hole, I see you holding one of our fluffiest pillows towards me. I chuckle as I take it and shove it under my shirt. 

It just so happens to be your pillow so it smells just like you; your scent from the pillow drifts up to my nose and I just smile. You giggle at me. “Have I told you I love your dimples?”

I chuckle. “Mmhhmm. And, have I told you, I fuckin’ love you?”

You blush. “I love you too.”

I quickly make sure it’s in place correctly before I tuck my shirt into the pants. The soft fabric slightly tickles my legs, but also feels extremely fuckin’ comfortable. There’s a semi-hidden drawstring in the waistband of the pants, and I tug the two ends so that the pants tighten ‘round my waist and sit just below my hips.

I unbutton the few buttons on the suit jacket and slide it over my upper body. Once it’s situated, I button it up. I look at you, placing my hands on my extended, fluffed up tummy. I raise an eyebrow.

“Ho ho ho!” I say, lowering my voice to sound more like a stereotypical Santa.

“What did you just call me?” You try to say with a straight face but giggles just flood out.

Your giggles turn into a rolling laugh, and you’re laughing so much that you have to plop down on our bed, with your eyes closed. I chuckle. You open your eyes after a few minutes and look up at me. I notice tears rolling down your cheeks, and I start to laugh. 

I’m happy to see you so happy. I sit down next to you on the bed, and look for the boots you bought for this shindig. I attempt to put ‘em on, but due to my pillow stuffed belly, I can’t. After a few unsuccessful attempts that send you into another fit of giggles, you finally get down on your knees before me, and help slide the boots onto my feet.

“Santa, I think you need to lose some weight.” You joke.

I chuckle. “Hardy fuckin’ har har.”

You just laugh. “I hope you know you can’t be cussing every five seconds when you’re around Emily like this. She will start to understand.”

“Do you mean when I’m dressed as fuckin’ Santa? Or in fuckin’ general?”

“When you’re dressed as fuckin’ Santa.” You say in a deeper voice trying to copy me; it never works, but it still is so fuckin’ cute.

I sigh, but only playfully. I know you’ve got a valid point there. You place your hands on my thighs, close to my knees rather than closer towards my crotch, much to my fuckin’ dismay.

“You’re fuckin’ right, I suppose. But...who said that Santa can’t fuckin’ cuss?” I ask, more to myself.

“Pretty much every Santa story ever!”

I open my mouth to protest. “Uh...doll...that’s not necessarily the fuckin’ case. You know Santa wasn’t always this great fuckin’ guy that delievered toys to good fuckin’ little boys and girls. Right?”

Your brow furrows. “The hell you talkin’ ‘bout, Negan?”

I’m shocked. “You really don’t know?”

You shake your head. “No?”

“Oh! Baby, ok listen. The true origins of Santa depict him as this evil being that would eat kids! He’d go ‘round to different fuckin’ houses and snatch up all the naughty boys and girls. He used to be fuckin’ feared by all. It was a way to get kids to fuckin’ behave. He was not the fuckin’ pudgy, soft-faced and spoken character we all know and love today. He was a scrawny, scary lookin’ little fucker that would mess you the fuck up.”

Your eyes widen. “Please tell me you don’t tell this story to Emily?”

I shake my head. “Sweetheart, we both know I’m an asshole, but I’m not a monster. I ain’t gonna scare the shit outta our fuckin’ kid like that.”

“Good.” You place one of your hands on your forehead. “When you read the stories to Emily, you cuss, don’t you?”

“That’s beside the fuckin’ point.” I laugh. “She knows it’s me readin’ her the fuckin’ stories, and she knows I fuckin’ cuss like a damn sailor.”

You give me that look and I know I need to tread carefully. I shut my trap after muttering a “Yes, ma’am.”

You lean up and kiss my cheek, muttering, “Good boy.”

I grin to myself. Damn fuckin’ right I’m a good boy. But, only when I’m with you. I’m only a good boy for you. You make me want to be one. You get up and go over to the closet. You disappear inside for a second before reappearing for a second with a box labeled “Holiday”. 

You set it on the bed next to me. Inside is the beard I need, along with the Santa hat and black leather gloves. I slide the gloves on over my hands. You hold the beard out to me.

“What? My beard not fuckin’ good ‘nough? I’ve been workin’ on this shit for a few months now.” I say, smirking, rubbing my bearded chin.

You shake your head. “Sorry, babe. But, no. It’s not quite white ‘nough. There’s still too much pepper in what’s supposed to be an all salt beard.”

“Hey! I thought you liked my salt-and-pepper scruff? You never complain when I’ve got my face buried ‘tween your thighs, doll.”

I watch as you rub your thighs together at my words, and I just smirk. I knew it. You playfully glare at me, and smack my shoulder. I grunt, but you know I’m just fuckin’ messing with you. I take the beard and put it on. After you help me get it in place, you slide the hat on my head.

You place a kiss against my cheek before you hold a hand out towards me. I take it, and stand up. I wrap my arms ‘round you as best as I can with the pillow in the way between us.

“Ready to make some noise, Santa?” You ask, looking up at me.

I nod. “Let’s fuckin’ do this shit!”

I climb up onto the bed, and jump off of it, making a loud thud as my boots hit the hardwood floor. I look at you, grinning.

“Think that sounded close ‘nough to a sleigh landing on the fuckin’ roof?” I ask.

“Close enough. She won’t know the difference.” You say grabbing the bells out of the box that was on the bed. “Better hurry up and go downstairs. Before she catches Santa in mommy and daddy’s room.”

You tap your fingers against my sternum before laying your palm flat against me. You step up on your tiptoes and gently kiss me. I smile into the kiss as i hold you close. I walk downstairs to the living room with you by my side, ringing the bells every few seconds so Emily thinks it the reindeer on the roof.

You duck into the kitchen to do something while I look at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. It’s already eleven o’clock at night. I guess we spent more time in our room, getting me ready and teasing each other than I originally thought. 

I chuckle as I walk over to the fireplace. I kick my boots ‘round in the ashes of the burnt out fire from earlier in the night. I gotta make it look like I came down the chimney since I’m dressed as Santa. This whole shindig that you and I do for Christmas is somethin’ we’ve done since Emily was three. 

She’s seven now, so we’ve have a few years to practice and get things right. She’s an innocent kid, and I’m not gonna be the one to take away her belief in Santa. The world’s already shitty as is; I gotta let my little girl have something to look forward to. 

Plus, Christmas is her favorite holiday, so you and I always try to go all out for her. She doesn’t like it ‘cause of the presents, but rather ‘cause it means that we all get to wear matching pjs, drink hot cocoa, eat cookies, and watch cheesy movies.

Her favorite movie is the one with the Grinch. She always giggles through the whole thing. She also loves helping her mum set up the Christmas village on the coffee table. And, she likes to help decorate the tree every year. Her favorite part comes after we’ve hung all the ornaments and tinsels up, and strung the strings of popcorn and bright lights ‘round the tree that’s nearly as tall as I am.

Her favorite part consists of her sitting atop my shoulders, little white Angel in hand, and reaching up to place the Angel on the top of the tree. When she does that, and the Angel is situated to her liking, she’ll lean back, still sitting on my shoulders, with one of my hands curled ‘round her little ankles, and she’ll clap her hands excitedly.

I love seeing her happy, and I’d do fuckin’ anything and everything I possibly could to make sure she’s happy. Same goes for you. Y’all are my fuckin’ world. My fuckin’ everything. I don’t fuckin’ know what I did to deserve y’all, but I fuckin’ thank my lucky stars every morning when I wake with you in my damn arms and every night when I tuck Emily into bed and kiss her forehead.

Without y’all, I’d be lost.

I feel arms wrap ‘round me from behind, and I glance down. When I see your hands clasped together, and resting over the pillow under my outfit, I smile. You rest your head against my back as I place my hands over yours.

“I love you.” You murmur.

“I love you too, doll.” I reply, turning ‘round in your arms.

You lift your head and look up at me. I reach a leather clad hand up and cup your cheek. My thumb rubs across your cheek under your eye. You lean into my touch. I lower my head and softly press my lips to yours. It’s a soft kiss, but I still manage to express how much you mean to me with it.

When your lips leave mine, I kiss your forehead before standing up straight again. My eyes drift over your shoulder to the plate of little reindeer and Santa decorated cookies under the lamp on the small end table by the arm of the couch. 

There’s also a steaming cup of hot cocoa beside it. I grin and look back down at you.

“Did you make hot cocoa for Santa?” I tease.

You smile. “Mmhhmm. A little birdy told me it was one of his favorite drinks. I even added a little somethin’ extra to it.”

I raise an eyebrow as I step aside and reach for the hot drink. I smile once I see the dollop of whipped cream sitting atop some floating, and melting, mini marshmallows. I bring the cup up to my lips and take a sip. I immediately realize what that little something extra that you added to it.

I glance up at you, holding the cup with both hands. You giggle.

“Irish cream bourbon? You fuckin’ tryin’ to get Santa drunk?” I playfully ask.

You smirk. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

I grin. “You know, Santa’s gotta steer a fuckin’ sleigh and control eight damn reindeer all over the fuckin’ planet, right?”

Your eyes twinkle as your smirk turns into an even bigger grin and just shrug.

“You deserve one drink Santa.”

I chuckle as I take another sip of the spiked drink. It tastes damn good, and it burns in two ways as it slides down my throat. The heat of the drink itself burns and warms me up. Then, the burn of the alcohol burns in an even better way.

“Maybe Santa should just stay the night here since he has been drinkin’.” You whisper before winking and walking away. You fuckin’ planned this conversation.

A deep chuckle escapes my lips. “He should, should he?”

You glance at me over your shoulder as you stand at the base of the stairs. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it. He knows where to find me if he wants a place to sleep for the night.”

You wink one more time before going upstairs to our room. I know that’s where you’re headed ‘cause even though you were teasing me, and your eyes lit up with mischief, I could still see the tiredness in your eyes. I settle down onto the couch, the bourbon laced hot cocoa in one hand, and reach over to grab a green icing reindeer cookie off the plate.

Taking a bite, a few of the crumbs get caught in my beard. I finish the cookie before bothering to wipe the crumbs away. I’m reaching for another cookie, a red reindeer one, when I hear quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. I grin to myself, this is always my favorite part. 

Last year, Emily made ‘Santa’ promise to stop and say hello to her again. I hear her gasp softly.

“Santa! You’re here! You waited for me!” She whispers running over, climbing onto my lap.

“Well Little Emily, I promised you I would stop and say hi, didn’t I?” I lower my voice to sound like Santa.

I remembered what you said about cussing around her while dressed as Santa. I’m trying not too, but this gets harder every second. Cussing comes as fluently to me as English does. It’s just my second nature.

She just grins up at me, “Yes! You did, Santa! I’m glad you did! I tried to be a very good girl this year! I even made sure to do all my chores.”

That was one thing that Emily has done this year. No matter what we asked her to do, she did it. Clean her room, help mummy clean the kitchen and living room, do dishes. I’m so fuckin’ proud of her. Even though she’s just doing all of this for Santa, she is still understanding responsibility.

“That’s why I made sure to stay. I noticed you stayed on the Nice list all this year.” I gently pat her back and smiles.

I reach over and grab the cookie I wanted before. I don’t know what you do to these cookies, but they are always so fuckin’ amazing. I swear, it’s like I’m a damn addict, and your cookies are my drug of choice that I keep craving.

“Did you bake these cookies all by yourself?” I ask Emily in my deep voice once again.

She shakes her head quickly, “No! Mommy, daddy and I made them together. Her and daddy always say never touch the oven without an adult!”

That is one thing she is good at, listening to us. After almost burning her hand helping you make dinner a few months ago, she knows never to touch it again. You were paying attention to her since she was so close to the oven, if you hadn’t she could have gotten seriously hurt. 

I’d been workin’ late at the car dealership after working at the school that day, so I wasn’t home when it happened. Y’all were wanting to surprise me with dinner when I got home - Emily’s idea - but, the surprise was blown when you called to tell me that she’d gotten burned, but that she was ok. 

I’d left work immediately and came home.

“I’m glad you listen to your parents,” I take a bite of the cookie. “These are the best cookies I have ever tasted! I go to every single  house in the world and there are no better cookies than you and your moms”

She just blushes and her grin gets even wider. If that is even possible. I hear more footsteps coming down the stairs. You pop your head from around the corner. Your hair is wet from what I’m guessing is the shower you just took. Of course, you would take one without me. 

I’ll just have to get you dirty again later so we can take one together.

“Emily, I see you caught Santa before he left!” You say in a very cheerful voice. That shower must have woken you up.

“Hi, mommy! Santa said he waited for me!” She says excitedly.

You walk over and sit in my favorite reclining chair that’s next to the couch. You are the only one I let sit there without permission. Emily’s allowed in my lap, but that’s my chair.

“Well hello!” I say, looking over at you. “I don’t think we got to meet last year. Miss Morgan, right?”

When Emily looks over her shoulder at you, I give you a quick wink, smirking just a little.

“I’m sorry, Santa, but it’s Mrs. Morgan” You smirk right back at me.

I grin. Damn right you’re Mrs. Morgan. I finish the cookie that I picked up earlier, and take a quick drink of my spiked, hot cocoa when I go to reply to you. I stop when I notice Emily reaching over and grabbing a Santa cookie and she holds it up in front of me like she is examining it.

“Santa! This cookie looks just like you!” She holds it out to me so I can take a look.

We did a very good job this year making sure we dressed me up as the Santa everyone knows.

I chuckle a very deep Santa-Like laugh, “It sure as fuckin’ shit does!”

I pause for a second and look over at you. I tried so hard not to cuss this year. Just for our little girl, but it just slipped out without me thinking! You just playfully glare over at me, and shake your head.

Emily giggles and pats my arm, “Santa! You're not supposed to say bad words. You sound like my daddy. Mommy says he can say bad words because he does nice things to make up for them! Like yesterday, he took me to the park and we played in the snow!”

“Oops! You’re right, Little Emily.” I say, playfully pouting, and putting my head down.

“It’s okay, Santa! I forgive you!” She looks around. “Wait! Where is my daddy? I haven’t seen him since he put me to bed.”

I quickly answer, “Oh, when I got here a piece of my sleigh broke, so your daddy went to the store really quick to grab the part for me so I could talk to you!”

“I told you, Santa, my daddy is very nice!” Emily turns to you while still in my lap, “Mommy, last year Santa said daddy was on the naughty list so that’s why he didn’t get any presents from Santa!”

“Well, Santa. Why was daddy on the naughty list?” You ask smirking over at me.

You know damn well what I have done that’s so naughty to make myself on that ‘list’. All of them were done to you, probably just in the last week!

“Well, Mrs. Morgan, I can’t tell you why your husband was on the naughty list, but if you would like I can tell you why you deserve to be on the naughty list. Yet, somehow, your name always stays on the nice list.” I say winking over at her, making sure my voice gets even deeper than the Santa voice.

I know what it does to you. It’s the same voice I talk to you at night, just to make sure you’re in the mood.

“Santa, you can’t be flirting with my mommy. She’s married to my daddy!” Emily says, shaking her head at me.

“I’m sorry, Emily, but your mother is so fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t help but flirt with her.” I say, looking over at you as I take another sip of my cocoa.

I look down at my cup to see it’s now empty. You just blush and turn toward the cookies, grabbing one for yourself. I turn to Emily when she pats at my arm.

“Santa, why haven’t you put the presents under the tree yet?” She points to the tree with no presents underneath.

“Because you’re supposed to be sleeping, so I’m not putting any presents under the tree until you fall asleep,” I answer her as I remember where we hid all her presents.

This year we hid them in the basement since she’s too scared to go down there. A couple months ago we had a little mouse causing trouble down there and she found it. She’s been too scared to go down there ever since.

Her mouth goes into an O shape and she starts nodding. “I understand, Santa. It has to be a surprise!”

“Exactly, Emily. Which is why you should be going to bed soon.” You say, giving her the ‘Mom’ look.

I look over at the clock and see that it's now after midnight. In fact, it’s 12:15 am on Christmas morning.

“Your mommy is right, Emily. And, I have to get going. I have more children’s houses to stop by.” I say.

Emily’s face falls, but she nods. I don’t like seeing my little girl upset, but I do need for her to be in bed so that you and I can bring the presents out and hide ‘em under the tree. She looks up at me with a hopeful look on her face.

“Santa? May I have a hug? Please?” She asks, quietly.

I grin from ear to ear. “Of course you can, sweetheart!”

She wraps her arms ‘round my neck and tucks her face against the Santa beard. I wrap my arms ‘round her, and hug her back. After a moment, she pulls back, and sits on my lap. She grins up at me.

“Santa! You give hugs just like my daddy!” She says, happily.

I chuckle. “Is that so?”

She nods, and leans in close. “Don’t tell daddy, but I love his hugs. They make me feel safe and loved.”

I smile. “Don’t worry, Little Emily. Your secret is safe with me. I promise. Should I keep your daddy on the Nice list since he gives good hugs?”

She nods. “Yes, please! Then he can get presents too! He deserves at least one. He’s the best daddy ever!”

I smile and my heart swells with love for my kid. She’s so fuckin’ sweet. I always knew she loved my hugs, but I didn’t know they made her feel safe. That’s good, though. I always want her to feel safe with me. She hops down off my lap and stands in front of me.

“Good night, Santa!” She says, before running up the stairs to her bedroom.

I watch her retreating back until I hear her door close. I look over at you and smile.

“Come on, doll. Let’s go get her presents,” I try to stand up off the couch, but because of my pillowy belly, I can’t get up.

I hear soft laughter, when I look up I see you covering your mouth, trying not to let a sound out.

“Very fuckin’ funny. Laugh at the fat guy,” I say. crossing my arms in a childlike pout.

“Oh Santa, you know I love you.” You say standing up. “‘Sides, you’re the one that kept eatin’ one cookie after a-fuckin’-nother.”

“The fuckin’ mouth on you! Maybe Santa should put you on the fuckin’ naughty list.”

“He’d better fuckin’ not. Otherwise, he won’t have a reason to be naughty anymore.”

My eyes widen. Well, shit. Santa ain’t gonna be putting you on the naughty list any-fuckin’-time soon. That’s for damn sure. You walk over until you’re standing in front of me. You put your hands out to help me up, so I grab a hold of them and you help pull me up.

“You’re fuckin’ right, Mrs. Morgan. Santa does need to lose a lot of fuckin’ weight,” I say, after a couple of deep breaths.

This pillow and heavy jacket is making me feel extra warm. We need to hurry and get these presents under the tree so I can change. I’m actually looking forward to putting my matching pajamas on again, and that’s saying something ‘cause I usually prefer to sleep naked. 

I grab your hand gently, and pull you toward the basement door.

“Alright, Mrs. Morgan. You can grab all the little fuckin’ things and bring them up here. I got the fuckin’ rest.” I smirk over at her. “Santa’s gotta get some muscles back instead of all this damn fat from your fuckin’ delicious as shit cookies.”

You just roll your eyes, and shake your head at me. But, you have the biggest and cutest fuckin’ grin on your face. For the next twenty minutes or so, we’re bringing the presents up, putting ‘em under the tree. You’re putting ‘em in a way so that Emily can see all the wrapped presents after I hand ‘em to you.

We got her so much fuckin’ stuff, I’m surprised you can still see the tree skirt. We always spoil our baby girl. She fuckin’ deserves it. She’s my whole world. Actually, if I could buy the actual fuckin’ planet, I would give it to her. I’ve give you the whole fuckin’ galaxy. 

Y’all really are my fuckin’ everything.

“I’m glad you grabbed the bike. I feel bad ‘cause she asked for it for her birthday last month, but they didn’t have the one she wanted.” You say, crossing your arms, watching me slide the brand new bicycle under the tree.

“It’s okay, darlin’. I think she’ll be fuckin’ shocked to see it,” I say, pulling you over to me.

You wrap your arms around my waist, putting your head on my chest right above the pillow. I put my hand on your cheek, making you look up at me. When you do, I lean down and press my lips to yours. I feel you push up, meaning you got on your tiptoes. 

I wrap my arm around your waist, and the hand I used to cup your cheek, I move to your hair. After a few minutes, you pull away from the kiss. You smile up at me, lips redder than before. I chuckle at the sight of you.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed. We both know Emily’ll be wakin’ us up in a few hours anyway,” You smile at me, pulling on my hand, tugging me towards the stairs.

“Go on up. I’ll turn everything off down here.” I kiss your cheek and watch you as you go upstairs.

I turn off the living room lights, along with the kitchen lights. I leave on the Christmas tree lights ‘cause I know that Emily loves running down the stairs in the mornings to see them already on.

“Merry Christmas, daddy!”

I let out a quiet groan as I feel my daughter bounce up and down on my chest, excitedly. Cracking one eye open, I peek at her, and reach up to place one hand on her hip, getting her to stop bouncing. She looks down at me with the biggest smile on her little face. 

Even though I’m still fuckin’ half asleep, I still smile right back at her.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too, baby girl.” I mumble, sleepily.

Her smile gets bigger, which I didn’t know was possible. She leans down and kisses my cheek.

“Santa came last night!” She says, sitting back up.

I chuckle. I know Santa came last night, but I don’t divulge that information to my daughter. I just open both eyes, and rub my hand over my face in an attempt to get rid of the sleep.

“Is that fuckin’ so, sweetpea?” I ask, smirking.

She nods. “Mmhhmm! He even gave me a hug!”

I raise an eyebrow as I move to a sit position, with Emily still on my lap. I wrap both my arms ‘round her and hug her. She giggles as she tries to squirm away. I chuckle.

“Like that?” I tease.

She nods, still giggling. “Mmhhmm! But, your hugs are still better.”

“Damn fuckin’ straight they are, baby girl. Daddy gives good hugs, doesn’t he?”

“Yep! The best!”

“I can agree with that!” I hear you mumble; your voice still heavily laced with sleep.

I chuckle as I lean over and gently kiss you.

“Mornin’, darlin’. And, merry fuckin’ Christmas!” I say against your lips.

“Mmm. Mornin’ to you too, babe. Merry Christmas too. Can I go back to sleep now?” You ask.

“But, mommy! Santa put the presents out like he said he would!” Emily says climbing off of me, to climb onto your lap.

You just wrap your arms around her and pull her close. Your eyes stay closed and I lean back slightly. My shirt’s getting all bunched up and I gotta fuckin’ fix it.

“Little Angel’s right, doll. Santa put a lot of effort into bringin’ all those presents here last night.” I tease, glancing down at you.

You let out a groan. “Fine. But, then I’m goin’ back to fuckin’ sleep afterward.”

I chuckle. “We can all go back to fuckin’ sleep later, sweetheart. But, c’mon. Up and at ‘em!”

You open your eyes to glare at me. I know you ain’t really pissed at me, ‘cause I can see that playful twinkle in your eyes. You finally sit up, kiss Emily’s forehead, and shift her off of you.

“I gotta go take care of some business, so y’all head on downstairs. I’ll be down in a minute.” You say.

Emily and I both nod. I scoop her up in my arms and playfully toss her over my shoulder as I stand up from the bed. She loves it when I do this. I hear her giggle, happily, and attempt to cling to my shirt. Since it’s silk, she doesn’t really have much luck, so she just wraps her arms ‘round my chest as best as she can.

You laugh at me with our daughter, knowing I’d never do anything to hurt her. I carry her downstairs after flashing my dimpled smile. Once we’re in the living room, I plop down on the couch, and pull Emily off my shoulder. She settles down on my thighs, and fiddles with the buttons on my shirt.

I can tell her excitement’s dimmed a little since we left my room a few moments ago. I look at her, frowning slightly.

“Baby girl? What’s wrong?” I ask, softly.

She shakes her head and continues to fiddle with the buttons. “Nothin’.”

“Sweetheart. Please, don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”

She lifts her head up. I can see that she’s conflicted. She bites her bottom lip just like you and I both do.

“I saw Santa flirtin’ with mommy last night.” She says, quietly.

I chuckle. “Yeah? And, what’d mommy do?”

“She didn’t do anythin’.”

I raise an eyebrow as I smirk. “Is that so?”

She nods. “Mmhhmm. And, I even saw mommy kissing Santa Claus.”

My eyes widen. Shit. She saw me kiss you last night while I was still in the Santa outfit. I thought I’d made sure she was outta sight ‘fore I kissed you.

“Are you mad, daddy?” Emily asks, dragging my attention to her.

“Mad? Why would I be mad, sweetie?” I ask, slightly confused.

“Mommy kissed Santa. And he kissed her back.”

I chuckle. “I’m not mad, baby girl.”

“Really? Then why was mommy kissing him? I thought that was somethin’ you only do with someone you love?”

I think of something to say. “Um. Well, you know how daddy was helpin’ Santa fix his sleigh?”

Emily nods. “Mmhhmm.”

“Well...um...she was thankin’ him for bringin’ all those presents. And, he kissed her back as a way to say thanks for me helpin’ him with his sleigh. There wasn’t anythin’ else to the kiss.”

She seems to accept my answer, and her face lights up again. Her mood changes so quickly that one could almost get whiplash. Oh, the joys of being a kid. You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a lot of fuckin’ shit.

“Mommy!” Our daughter hollers. “Hurry! I wanna see what Santa brought me!”

I hear your laugh trickle down the stairs ‘fore I hear your footsteps.

“I’m comin’!” You holler back down.

I chuckle and Emily grins. I look up to see you reach the last step. You’ve got a small, thin, rectangular box in your hand. I lift my eyes to meet yours, and you just give me a smile. You plop down in my chair. Emily looks from you to me and back to you.

“Can I open my presents now?” She asks, happy and full of hope.

I nod at you over her shoulder. You smile at you and nod. Emily hops down off my lap, and rushes over to the tree. She starts dividing up the presents. I happened to put a few in there for you from me. And, I know Emily had one that she picked out for you when she and I were hanging out one day.

Of course, not all of her presents are from Santa. Just a couple small, inexpensive gifts. We didn’t want it to seem like Santa had favorites by getting her some big or expensive present. We know not all kids are as lucky as Emily when it comes to Christmas, so we try to make it seem like Santa is an equal opportunity provider to all kids, regardless of their parents’ incomes.

After she is all done dividing the presents, she looks over at us.

“Do you want me to open all of mine now? Or do you want to open some of yours too?” She asks sweetly.

I look over at you. Last year we let her open all of them while you were taking photos, then we opened ours. She knows to wait till after all the presents have been unwrapped before opening and playing with any of them. You’ve taught her to do this; that it’s important to be patient and that good things come to those who wait.

She doesn’t mind waiting ‘cause then she knows we won’t interrupt her from playing with her new toys until it’s time for breakfast. You and I share a look ‘fore you nod at our little girl.

“You go ahead, baby. Then daddy and I’ll open ours.” You say.

Emily grins and happily starts opening all of her presents. There goes hours and hours spent wrapping the presents so carefully and neatly. Santa brought her a few coloring books, a stuffed animal, and a new dress. The rest of the presents, the bike included, came from you and I. 

We made sure to get her a helmet and pads so she’s safe when she’s riding the bike. The last thing either of us want is for her to be getting hurt. It’s bad ‘nough she’s our kid with us both being clumsy. She got that from the both of us too. You and I also tag-teamed and got her a Hockey jersey from our favorite team as a family with our last name on it, and her favorite number, “29”, on it.

I have a feeling she’s gonna wanna put it on the moment we say she can. She loves hockey. When she’s done opening her gifts, she turns to look at us. I get up from my spot on the couch and walk over to get your presents. I hand ‘em to you, placing a kiss on your forehead too, ‘fore I sit back down.

I watch as your open your gifts from Emily, who moves to sit by your feet. One’s a coffee mug she made in school. It’s got her handprint painted on the side of it in your favorite color, and the other side says “World’s Bestest Mommy!”. The other one is a baseball jersey from your favorite team with our last name on the back of it and a number “45” below our name, in honor of your favorite baseball player.

It was Emily’s idea to get it custom made, and she knows how much you love baseball. You look down at her, who’s just grinning up at you. You ruffle her hair, and smile.

“Thank you, baby!” You say.

“You’re welcome, mommy!” Emily says.

You start to open the present I got for you. Your eyes light up when you see my gift. You look at me.

“Season passes? And meet and greet chances?” You ask, excitedly.

I smile. “Yep! I know how much you love baseball, doll. So, I got you that. Now, you can to a game whenever you want, and go to multiple ones too. All season long.”

You grin. “Thanks.”

“You’re more than welcome. Just don’t go fallin’ in fuckin’ love with any of the players you meet.”

You laugh. “No promises!”

“Hey!”

You smirk. “What? You know I’m a sucker for a baseball player!”

“I know! That’s how I managed to win you over all those years ago.”

You bite your bottom lip. “What can I say? Your ass looked damn good in those baseball uniform pants.”

I laugh. Emily smiles. She gets up, and gets a small-ish package and brings it over to me.

“Your turn, daddy! It’s from me!” She says, excitedly.

I smile and take the gift from her. It’s soft in my hands, and I can’t wait to open it. So, I do. It’s a fuckin’ Seattle Seahawks football jersey! On the back, our last name is stitched on with the number “12” just below it. I know I can’t wait to put it on. 

You and Emily both know how much I fuckin’ love the Seahawks. I set it on the couch beside me, ‘fore I break our own rule and put it on ‘fore all the presents are open. I look up to see you standing up and making your way towards me. At first, I think you noticed that I was ‘bout to break our rule, so my first thought is “Please don’t get mad at me for trying to break our only Christmas rule we enforce every year.”

You sit on the arm of the couch beside me, not saying anything, but holding the small, thin, rectangular box out in front of me. I immediately grin, thinking you’ve gotten me another thin leather bracelet to wear. I take the box from you, and before I can open it, I hear your voice.

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

I look up at you, smiling. “Merry Christmas to you too, sweetheart.”

You lean down to kiss my temple. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will, babydoll.”

I go to look back at the box, and I notice our daughter is bouncing on her knees, grinning from ear to ear. I chuckle.

“Excited, baby girl?” I tease.

“Yes! Open your present, daddy!” She squeals.

I laugh. “Okay! Okay! I’m openin’ it!”

I look at the box. The two of y’all have definitely got me intrigued as to what’s in here. I slowly lift the lid and peer inside the small container. What I was expecting is definitely not what’s in there. What’s in there is not something I was expecting at all. 

The lid falls from my left hand and I reach in and gently pick the item up. My breath catches in my throat, and my heart pounds against my chest as I stare at it for a solid minute, trying to process what I’m looking at. Finally, I look up at you, tears filling my eyes instantly. 

You smile at me. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as another one rolls down the opposite cheek.

“You...You’re...We’re…” I stammer, my voice cracking.

You giggle and nod. “Yes, honey. We’re pregnant.”

The tears fall freely as I set the pregnancy test back in the box and set it on top of my football jersey. I reach up and pull you off the arm of the couch and into my lap. You wrap your arms ‘round my neck as I bury my face against your chest. You soothe me as I cry happy tears. 

I feel your fingers tangle in my hair. I cling to you tighter. You’ve just given me the best gift ever - aside from Emily, of course. And I thought the jersey was gonna be the best thing I was getting today. You blew that outta the water. We’re gonna have another baby. 

I’m gonna be a daddy again! We tried for years after Emily was born, but it never worked out. We got excited two times, only for it to never work out, and we lost both babies. I knew those times were hard on you, just like they were hard on me. 

So...for you to finally tell me now…

“How long have you known?” I ask, lifting my head up to look at you.

You cup my cheek, and wipe away some of my tears. “I’m ‘bout three and a half months along.”

“You waited.”

You nod. “I didn’t wanna get your hopes up again, baby. It ‘bout killed you last time. I wanted to be sure before I said anything.”

“God. I fuckin’ love you.”

You smile. “And, I love you too.”

“Wait. That explains all those times when you got sick, doesn’t it?”

You laugh and nod. “Yea! Mornin’ sickness can be a real asshole.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think ‘bout it.”

“I tried to play it off so you wouldn’t put two and two together, honey.”

“You’re trouble.” I tease.

“Trouble that you love.”

I nod. “You’re fuckin’ right ‘bout that.”

You shift in my lap. I watch as you pull something out from the back pocket of your pjs. You hold it out to me. I take it and quickly recognize it as an ultrasound photo. I run my thumb over the little image and the shape of what’s our unborn child. 

The tears start again, but I don’t fuckin’ care.

“I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in two weeks. Go with me?”

I look up from the photo to you. “Of course. I’ll always fuckin’ go with you, doll.”

You smile. I lean forward and kiss you.

“You happy, daddy?” Emily asks climbing onto the couch with us.

I pull back from the kiss with you to look at her. “Yes, baby girl. I’m very happy!”

“Yay! Now I don’t have to keep it a secret anymore, right, mommy?”

You laugh. “No, baby. You don’t.”

“Wait! She knew, but I didn’t?” I ask.

You giggle. “Mmhhmm. I had to tell someone, but I didn’t wanna get your hopes up yet. Plus, I had to take her to a doctor’s appointment with me one day while you were at work.”

I pout. “I can’t believe she knew before I did.”

You lift my head up so you can look me in the eyes. “Negan, honey. I didn’t wanna say somethin’ to you, see you get so fuckin’ excited you did for the last two, and then somethin’ happen. That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you. Believe me, I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I had to wait. Ok?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’m glad I know now!”

“Me too. It was gonna start to get hard to hide in a couple weeks.”

I chuckle. “You’re right ‘bout that. I can’t wait for you to start fuckin’ showin’!”

You giggle. “Don’t remind me. I’m gonna look like a damn beached whale.”

“Oh hush. You’ll still look just as beautiful as you always do.”

“You say that now.”

“And, I’ll keep saying it every day until I die.”

You blush and look at Emily. “Was that the last of the gifts?”

She nods. “Yep!”

“Alright. You can play with your toys now.”

She squeals, happily. “Yay!”

She rushes over, and sure ‘nough, the first thing she does is pull on the hockey jersey. She smiles a big fuckin’ smile the moment it’s on. I can’t help but chuckle.

“I’m gonna put mine on too.” You say, getting off my lap.

I nod. You get your baseball jersey and slip it on over your pajama top. I slide my football jersey on over my own pj shirt. It fits nicely. I look up as you smile at me and come back to sit in my lap. I wrap my arms ‘round you as you sit sideways across my thighs. 

You rest your head on my shoulder, but keep it so that you can still watch Emily play with her new presents. I lay my hand on your tummy, still not quite believing that you’re pregnant. I hold the ultrasound photo in my left hand beside your hip since my arm’s curled ‘round your back.

You and I watch Emily as she plays, neither of us saying anything. Everything ‘bout this moment is fuckin’ perfect. I’ve got you in my arms. Our little girl’s happy and playing. I’m happy, and I know you are too. And, we’ve both a baby on the way. 

The living room’s silent, save for the noises Emily makes as she plays. I let my eyes drift closed as I rest my head against yours.

“Daddy? Where do babies come from?” Emily asks after ‘bout twenty minutes.

My eyes jerk open and I stare at her, unsure of what to say.

“Uh...Ummmm...They...Umm...Storks!” I finally manage to say.

[eisforeidolon]

The thing is, I liked season eleven after finding nine and particularly ten overall mediocre and forgettable with some decent stuff mixed in.  I actually really liked the whole idea of Amara with the show making mythology of its own, and I liked the actress that played her.  The only real problem was that they should have done more to show rather than tell us how great of a threat she was, but they even did a pretty decent job of showing her as a consistent presence across the season.  I loved that they tried to inject some actual stakes into the Winchesters life and death merry-go-round again with quasi-antagonist Billie and the Empty, and I thought a lot of the MotW episodes were really good. If the overall storyarc was a bit rushed and messy, and it had an unfortunate Lucifer tumor in the middle of it, well, it was the transition season.  When the conflict ended with not the big confrontation but a big family reunion, I was so pleased and I had high hopes that SPN might be going back from a fun show to one that was more qualitatively good.  

Starting season twelve, there was a lot of talk about dialing things back and having the Winchesters have to deal with a purely human enemy.  That was a great fucking idea.  Mary was back so the show had a whole new emotional dynamic to explore between the two Winchesters separately and together with her, and how they dealt with her as an actual person.  Again, that was interesting new territory to explore.  Except ...

All the potential of Mary was wasted in her taking off immediately; the only way she could have been less invested in the Winchesters' lives was if she turned full villain – and at least that would have been unquestionably deliberate and not just incompetent writers inflicting their cardboard version of a “strong female character” on the audience. By the time we reached the end of the season I felt there was no reason to brainwash her except to pretend she was still “good”, I could easily see the Mary they gave us all season locking Sam and Dean away to die without it.   Meanwhile, the BmoL were in turns either so hyper-competent and prepared it was unbelievable or so incompetent and unprepared it was also unbelievable.  Which was at least not as terrible as the climax, where the writers had Sam and the disposable hunter gang zoom past a fundamental moral horizon that has always been emphasized as important on the show (not killing humans on purpose) without even seeming to fucking notice.  So much for having to deal with a human enemy being any different than the same old same old crap!  It only got worse with Lucifer hanging on like a bad smell in a way that turned into a cringe-y abortion-skirting death-is-worth-it-for-my-baby-even-if-it's-evil storyline with another bonus consequence-less Cas betrayal of the Winchesters.  That in retrospect the writers were such juvenile pissbabies as to write a Cas death they intended to take back immediately to overshadow Crowley's permanent one only leaves even more of a sour taste on the season.  Still, there were some great moments in decent episodes and there had been some good ideas to start with – and the whole AU world was promising!  I didn't have much interest in Jack, but what happens in the season finale has so little bearing on where the next season will necessarily go these days it wasn't enough to tune out.  

Which brings us to season thirteen. They tried to sell helpless woobie Jack way too hard, but the casting department did them a good turn with Calvert and it actually kind of worked.  The Scooby crossover was pretty fun.  Unfortunately, they fucking ruined the Empty – both in terms of whatever the hell Misha was doing while whoever was directing was apparently in some kind of coma and in terms of it utterly ruining bringing peril for the main characters back into the show.  Beyond that, it felt like they wasted half the season on the spin-off  where the usually more coherent and enjoyable MotW episodes would have been – which instead of at least being about Jody and Donna, was a whole new cast of cardboard teen stereotypes whose abilities and interpersonal bonds were so awesome like Sam and Dean's!!!  Even without any training or having known each other for more than five minutes!  Yeesh.  The rest was split between making Lucifer even more of a joke (possibly at least partially on purpose this time, which actually makes it worse in a way), flubbing all the potential of the AU universe by giving it no depth or real history in favor of all the random fanservice AU versions of dead characters they could squeeze in, ruining Gabriel's actual redemption arc because ???, and a wee bit of Jack & the Winchesters and Rowena & the Winchesters that was actually enjoyable.  Oh, and all that crap with Asmodeus which was so forgettable I almost literally forgot it happened just now.  Setting up for the finale?  Heaven is falling, oh noes! I don't care. AU!Michael is coming! I don't care.  The season hasn't bothered to take the time to actually give me any reason to, and the only thing this show needs less of than more brother lying plots is yet another angel-centric snorefest.  Stick a fork in that shit, you nerfed it good at least six seasons back.

I've always found the seasons more enjoyable watched in a binge, and maybe on a rewatch (if I actually get up the interest to do one this year) I'll remember there were actually some good parts in there I liked.  At this point, though, it feels like too long since I genuinely enjoyed anything in the distracted clusterfuck of half-assed recycled plots and I'm not sure tuning in next season is the right choice for me, even though I expected to be in 'til the end.  I am sort of interested in the idea of Jensen playing a different character – but I have no faith that the so-called surprise reveal of the character will not be either the most predictable possible entity (an idea I've always hated), the most ridiculously out-of-nowhere soap “twist” the writers hit with a dart, or both.  Not to mention the intrinsic conflict between the show having adequate Dean time and having the character last more than another disappointing three episodes that go basically nowhere. 

[amoristt]

Not My Boyfriend | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

Anonymous asked:  CAN YOU DO NATHAN X READER (FLUFF 15) PLEASE! ;U; AND MAYBE A FLUFFY KISS TOO!

sure thing! this was a lot of fun to write :3 hope you guys like it! the prompt is, “He’s not my boyfriend!”

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Not My Boyfriend

A bird landing inches away from you was a softly lived moment. Fingers that were previously punching numbers into a calculator froze. You barely moved to look up from your homework, all those menacing papers sprawled haphazardly over the wooden picnic table, as to not scare it. It was small, barely larger than the palm of your hand. It’s eyes were beady and unexpecting, it’s wings tucked safely against its fat little body. It hopped from one spot to another, occasionally leaning forward to tilt it’s little head at your calculous. If not for the lack of color in it’s eyes you’d have thought it was confused by your scribbled text.

“Me too,” You breathed, and just that little sound scared it away. You watched it go all the way until it disappeared behind a hefty building, red with bricks and green with vines creeping up the edges. A disinterested sigh passed your lips, your mind bored and exhausted from grinding it’s gears all day. It was noon and you were halfway done with your work, but there was still a small pile of papers that demanded your attention. Even the sight of them made your headache worsen, the pulsing racing in between your temples.

Spring break had come to a sorrowful end. Goodbye sleeping in, goodbye staying out late, and hello school life once again. The eraser of your pencil tapped against your lips idly, fingers itching to do anything than continue writing. You missed summer vacation so much it felt like it was a dull ache in the pit of your chest.

Surviving winter was hard for a summer lover like you, and you spent most of your christmas and winter breaks holed up in your dorm once you came back from visiting family. You weren’t alone there of course, either with your few select friends or your boyfriend, but you’d rather have died than went outside in the snow and freezing cold.

You smiled at the memory, though. You hated winter but staying inside wasn’t bad. Watching movies wrapped in blankets, the taste of hot cocoa on your tongue, the feeling of an arm slung over your shoulder. Half of the time you were never even focused on the movie playing, too caught up in the lips pressed against your own, the hand tugging through your hair, the taste of him.

Nathan Prescott.

Kissing Nathan outside of a party was like spotting the wildest rose, beautiful but distant. Never outside the walls of your dorm did he trace the shape of your jaw, kiss at your collar bones, or let his palms glide down the valley of your back. With soft background noise and a blanket he let himself feel you wherever he pleased, and you welcomed it. He himself wasn’t too much of a fan of the feeling, sometimes recoiling when you touched at him, but he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin. Even subconsciously his hands would drift as close at they could, briskly grazing you.

Outside, however, was another story. In solitude he was never the iron-clad, hard headed asshole his reputation so easily displayed him out to be. He was sarcastic, sharp, and he was far from sickly sweet, but he wasn’t Arcadia Bays’ infamous Nathan Prescott. He was your Nathan. He was your Nathan that kissed you on your shoulders but also laughed when you fell off the bed. He was your Nathan that took photos of you, made you look like an angel, but he also was your Nathan that would sometimes draw devil horns on them.

In the winter he was your Nathan that snuck into your room and brought you cocoa, and in the summer he would ‘accidentally’ lose the key he stole from you in order to lock you outside for the day.

He had many sides to him, sides that no one would get to know, but he wasn’t evil. Devious, almost annoyingly so at times, but never… Malicious. Of course he could be, and you knew that. He could be the most volatile person to walk the halls of Blackwell should he want to, but when it came to you he would sneak along the hallways, slip into your room quiet as a mouse uninvited just because he ‘felt like it’. Truth be told, he missed you.

In your back pocket your phone vibrated, making you realize you’d drifted deeper into thought than you had intended. Without even looking at the notification you were already smiling- you knew who it was. Sure enough when you retrieved the device his name lit up clear as day, ‘yorkie’. It was a teasing remark you’d called him once while comparing him to dogs, and you settled on yorkie because they’re small but act like demons. He wasn’t too thrilled over the choice but you thought it was funniest shit, so you ran with it. 

When you learned your relationship with Nathan would have to be hidden from the school, you chose the first nickname that came into your head for his contact.

‘where r u?’

Before typing out your reply you gave a quick look-see around, making sure it was just you at the lonesome, miniature park. When it was first built it was overflowing with kids, but soon parents learned that 2 swings, a merry go round, and a few picnic tables wouldn’t suffice for entertainment. Without the shrill cries of toddlers and kids, you’d found it made an excellent study spot.

‘park. catching up on some hw rn.’ You leaned forward, elbows resting on the scratchy wooden surface. ‘why :0? anything up?

He replied almost instantly, a simple ‘nah. dont go anywhere, im gunna b there soon.’

‘wouldnt dream of it. see u soon’

You set the phone to the side and sighed, looking down at both your finished and unfinished work. It taunted you, and you swore it sounded like they were laughing when a warm breeze sent a few pieces fluttering. Drained, you started to gather all of the worksheets up, stacking them atop each other and then scooting them down the table. It almost physically hurt when you grabbed an unfinished sheet, the words ‘chemistry’ causing you to inwardly groan in defeat. With all this work you cursed your past self for not doing it bit by bit over break in order to avoid a situation like this.

By the time Nathan arrived, hands shoved in his pockets and his head ducked down like a stalking cat, you had gone through 2 more sheets and your headache had doubled. You waved a worn-out hello when he came into your view, and he took a look at your current state of being and shook his head.

“Seriously?” He scoffed, hopping onto the seat beside you. “You’re actually doing this all?”

“Course I am,” You added one more sheet to the finished pile. “I do want to get good grades, you know.”

Nathan leaned on one arm, his angular chin propped by an even more angular hand. “Just cheat like everyone else.”

“The last time you suggest that I failed entirely.” Although you tried to sound scolding, all that came out was an airy chuckle.  He rolled his eyes and his hand fell, his other coming up to join beside it. You grinned at him. “Is this too boring for you or something?”

“Actually?” he jumped up and sat on top of the picnic table rather than on the seat. With a look of almost disgust he read over the last sheet you’d finished. “Yeah, this is boring as fuck. What’s with the stack?”

A moan of anguish found it’s way out. “I was stupid and decided to procrastinate until last minute.”

“Why ever would you do that?” Nathan hummed, not looking up from your worksheet even when a knowing, sly grin took over his lips. You fought the urge to smack his knee.

“Not funny,” your pencil drew light circles at the corner of your paper. “This is seriously stressing me out.”

“So take a break then,” Nathan hopped down beside you again, his nimble fingers snatching the pencil right from your fingers. You wanted to argue, reach out and grab it, but you lacked the energy and motivation. Bad move, you learned, because the minute he stole your pencil he started writing crude phrases on the wood.

As he wrote you laughed, clicking your tongue and shaking your head. “You know kids see this shit, right?”

“Yeah, so?” He draw two circles beside each other and you rolled your eyes before he finished the piece. “Not like they know what it means anyways.”

“Yes but the parents do.”

“Oh no,” He leaned back again to admire his ugly work. “I’m so scared of little Tommy and his deadbeat, soccer mom.”

“Give me that back.” You swiped your pencil back now that he was finished, but the thought of returning to your work was a heavy one. Once again you cursed at your past self for thinking this would somehow all work out in the end. In the corner of your eyes you saw Nathan start to fidget with something he pulled from his pocket, and at that point you were desperate for something to gain your attention. “What’s that?”

He looked up at you briefly before turning back down to his item, then he set it out in front of him. It was a small camera it seemed, and cheaper than the rest of his devices, and it looked to be an instant camera along with that.

“I thought you were more into computer developed shots?”

Nathan used his sleeve to wipe at the camera's lens, then he shrugged. “I am, and believe me I wouldn’t be using his hipster piece of shit if I didn’t have to.”

Leaning forward you watched him toy around with the buttons. “So what’s it for then?”

“Photos, duh.” You shoved playfully at his shoulder and he smirked teasingly. “It’s something about the lighting I guess. Got a tip from a friend that instant cameras take the best candid shots.”

“Better candids, huh?” Slowly you reached out and grabbed at the camera, and Nathan surprisingly let you. Probably because he had little regard for the items’ safety- he could just get a new one. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” In an instant you’d reached the camera out, facing it towards you and Nathan, and he rolled his eyes but slung his arm around you none the less. However, unfortunately, he put up his middle finger as well.

Still, you took the shot, and for a moment a light blinded you. Then the picture developed and slid out from the bottom, your fingers reaching out to snatch the pic and then shake it quickly. It was warm like freshly printed paper, and if not for the fact that Nathan’s middle finger was up it would have been a pretty light hearted and sweet image, something you’d hang up in your room.

“Don’t show that to anyone,” Nathan said, and it was disheartening to know why. He tried to sound teasing, the words playing a jesting ‘i look bad there’, but it was deeper.

Your relationship was a secret to the outside community, a spectacle only you and him could observe. Sometimes it was okay, as it made you feel special. Only you knew the things you and him did behind closed doors, only you knew the feeling of the pads of his fingers trailing over your goosebump riddled skin. Only you knew the softness of his lips, the sharp angles of his jaw, and how dewy-eyed he got when you woke up beside each other. Other times a shallow and cold feeling tugged at your chest. Albeit never questioning why he chose to keep everyone in the dark, you knew he had his reasons and you weren’t going to pressure him on them. But… You still wondered. A million ideas would race through your head at night. Why, why why. However your qualms were quick to be distinguished when he’d show up at your dorm and find his way under your blankets, his body lean but radiating like a furnace.

The picture was still warm against your fingertips, and you smiled down at it. “Why not?” You playfully whined, both seriously and teasingly. “You look so cute here.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and tried to grab at the picture but you were too quick, leaning away from him and taking the photo of out his reach. He tried again, this time leaning over you in the process, but you got up and rose your eyebrows.

“Don’t make me chase you,” He narrowed his eyes, but they were anything but angry. He was enjoying himself. “We both know how that always ends up.” Waving the photo tauntingly in the air, he started to get up from his seat. The moment his feet touched ground you jumped, running left then right while knowing he was hot on your trail.

It was always so jarring how much faster he was than you. In seconds he was grasping at your shoulders, fingers catching the fabric, and you were turned to face him. Thanks to your speed you almost fell backwards but you caught his shoulders, managing to regain your footing. He was grabbing at the image and you kept it held close, a laugh rising at the feeling of his fingers poking at your skin. His footing faltered and you took it as a moment to make your gleeful escape, but he caught your wrist and stopped you from going too far. Although fast, he lacked endurance, and he was out of breath as he  wrapped his arms around your waist to stop you from going anywhere. You swatted at his chest and squirmed, but found yourself trapped.

“Photo, now.” He demanded with a grin in knowing he had you caught.

You opened your mouth to tell him never, but another voice halted you.

“What’s all this?”

In that moment both yours and Nathan’s blood ran cold. He was so quick to let you go, the force making you stumble before you stilled and stared at the two figures approaching with wide, fearful eyes. Nathan seemed more irritated than afraid like you, and his hands balled into fists. God damn it, his eyes said, and you felt your stomach drop at the thought of him being upset over the fact that he’d been caught messing around with you.

Two teens, Blackwell students by the looks of their jackets, were close now. Your stomach churned when you recognized the speakers short brown hair, his red jacket that mimicked Nathan’s. Logan Robertson. Beside him you recognized Zachary, a slightly nicer but still equally malicious football player.

You and Nathan traded looks in knowing full well where this was going.

“You and ___?” Logan started in a taunting tone. “Never thought you for the type to go for the underdogs.”

Zachary leaned his head back to laugh before he spoke up too. “Gotta say it’s smart, Nate. The nobodies are so easy to pick up.”

The words hurt but you didn’t dare argue back. Your relationship was a secret, and it would be the end of the world if those two morons found out about it. With sand in your throat you swallowed down your pride, remembering the fact that yours and Nathan’s relationship was at stakes. He meant too much for you to lose just because two dickheads wanted to cause drama.

“That’s not-- We aren’t-” You stumbled over your words as you frantically tried to find out a way to explain what they had seen. Carefully you hid the photo behind your back. “We were just-”

Logan snickered. “We were- We were just- we- we- we- Spit it out, sister!”

“Studying!” Your tongue felt heavy. Nathan rose a brow and you squeezed your eyes shut at the vague and thin lie.

Zachary crossed his arms, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “Bullshit. We all know Nathan Prescott doesn’t study.”

“Yes the fuck I do!” He chided, seeming personally offended by the jocks statement. “I study all the damn time, which is what you two lemmings should be doing too.”

“Since when do you care about class? You hardly even bother to show up half the time.” Logan said, and you swallowed thickly at the scene starting to play out in front of you. Logan’s eyes found you and he scoffed. “Don’t tell me ___’s the type of person to force her boyfriend into being good.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. They knew. They knew, they knew, they knew, and yours and Nathan’s relationship was as good as over. Your chest felt like it was concaving and you acted out as quickly as your racing brain could allow you too.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You blurted. It was loud and forced, but it left all three of them stunned for a moment.

Among of all them, Nathan seemed the most taken aback.

You didn’t stay long enough for them to poke more at your words, pivoting off your heel and barreling straight for your papers. From the wind a few had blown from your pile and you carelessly grabbed at them, shoving and crumpling them into your bag. Nathan was saying something from where he stood but you weren't listening, already slinging your bag over your shoulder and taking your leave.

Suddenly the photo you still held in your hand felt like it weighed a ton.

It was a few hours until you managed the courage to text him again.

Though now riddled with a bad memory you were right back at the park, this time without the anchor of your school bag or the headache from equations. No, all you had with you was your phone, your wallet, and that damn photo. You’d forgotten that on the way home you shoved it into your pocket and upon returning to the park to relax, it crossed your mind again. Although planning to spend some time alone, the sight of you and him happy together made you do something you’d been thinking about for months.

Step one of your emotionally drenched plan was to invite him to the park, and it was an invite he took without argument. Something felt off in his text, it felt… careful, like he knew exactly what was coming. A storm brewed in your gut.

The wait for him to show up was a relentless one, and the whole time you considered the idea of backing out, but it seemed fate would have it otherwise because when you picked your phone up to text him ‘nevermind’ you saw the photo again. It sat on your lap like a brand, and you set your phone back down beside you and groaned. This could be the end or a very fruitful beginning.

Step two was put into motion when he arrived, spotting you on the merry go round where he took a seat beside you. He was smooth in his motions, much more thoughtful than he was earlier. The way he glanced side to side before approaching you did not go unnoticed.

With the hours that passed the sun fell, and now that it was early in the evening everything was saturated in a brilliant gold thanks to the setting sun. If not for the ton of bricks that rolled around in your stomach you would have appreciated the scenery a bit more, but the nausea welling in your throat couldn’t be overridden by pretty clouds or the golden hour.

“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the silence you formed unawarely. He was anxious with his words, like he was expecting some life changing news on your behalf.

You shrugged casually despite the raging fire in your head. The last thing you wanted to do was rile him up. “I just,” The sand formed in your throat again and you almost gagged on it. “Wanted to talk about something.”

“Earlier?”

Lips pressed into a tight line, you nodded glumly. He made a noise of distress and leaned back, his gaze unset and unfocused.

“Look, they’re assholes, but I don’t think they’re gonna go telling everyone shit about me and you.”

“That’s not it,” You shook your head and pressed your hand against your throbbing temple. “The thing is, I don’t care if people know.”

“You seem pretty fucked up about it, though.”

“That’s because I know you wanted to keep it some big secret.”

Nathan took note of your words, eyeing you with knit brows. “I don’t want us to be some ‘big secret’, that’s just kind of how it has to go.”

“Why?” Your hands fell against your lap and you frowned up at him, but he wasn’t looking. “Why do we have to keep everything to ourselves?”

“Why does it matter so much?” He finally looked down at you, his expression tight, his jaw leveled. “What we’re doing is working out just fucking fine, isn’t it?”

You sighed. “Yeah, yeah it’s working.”

“Then what's the big issue?”

“It just-” you ran a hand through your hair roughly, trying to find the right words. “I don’t see why we can’t tell anyone! I mean yeah it’s fine, we’re working, but just- tell me why it’s so important that no one knows.”

“Because you'd fucking hate it if everyone knew!” His voice held so many emotions, but the two most prominent was the obvious anger and the less obvious worry. “Believe me, ___ if people found out you were involved with me you’d run for the fucking hills.”

You blinked at him, lips parted. “Why would I leave you?”

“Are you serious?” He looked down at his lap. “God, you’d get attacked. Maybe not physically but fuck, you’d get ripped into. Do you want to end up like me?”

Your gaze lowered to your legs, the photograph on your lap. “You seem to handle it just fine.”

“If you call drinking and starting fights ‘just fine’ then hell yeah I’m doing great.” He picked at his pants absently. “Never better.”

“Nathan,” You looked up at him. “I don’t care what people say about me. The years almost over, highschool drama is highschool drama. It doesn’t matter in the real world.”

Nathan groaned, rubbing his cheeks with his hands in stress. “It goes way further than that.”

“So what then?” That heat rose to your cheeks but it wasn’t accompanied by the fluttering of your heart. No, it was anger, a sinking and hot stone that ground against your bones. “We just date in the shadows where everythings nice and fucking cozy?”

“What’s wrong with that!”

“Everything!” Now it was your turn to rub at your face, irritated and huffy. “I don’t want to have to constantly feel like I’m being watched when I’m with you! I don’t want to have to worry about seen all the time, and I sure as hell don’t want to keep feeling like you’re ashamed to be with me!” You were talking so quickly, so fervently, you forgot to think before you spoke. You blurted out a thought that had eating away at you, and he gaped at you for it.

“You think I’m ashamed of you?” He asked, voice low and hissing. “That’s what you think this is about?”

You swallowed thickly and tried to eat the lump forming in your throat. “Sometimes.”

Nathan’s features softened, and he leaned back to look up at the sky. “___, that’s not… Shit, that’s not what this is about.” He sighed. “I just don’t want you to get all hurt because some hipster bitch won’t leave you alone. The thought of you going off and leaving me because of drama sucks.”

“I wouldn’t leave you over that.” You croaked. “I wouldn’t.”

“It’s easy to say that now.” He said, mostly to himself, but you responded anyways.

“I wouldn’t leave you over pointless shit, Nathan.” Using your sleeves you wiped roughly at your eyes. “I just want to- I just wanna be able to do shit with you outside my room is all.”

“What can we do outside your room that we can’t inside?”

You shrugged. “It’s different outside.” Through the ever growing blurriness of your vision, you looked up at him.

Nathan’s eyes seemed farther away, facing into the trees that surrounded the dingy little park. His silence was deafening and fear crept under your skin, made your face heat up in anxiety. You felt like you’d screwed up pretty badly, like you’d ruined something. The lack of an answer, even if it was just an irritated sigh, made you antsy. When your lips parted to speak up he beat you to it.

“If you can handle it,” He started, closing his eyes, giving in. “Then sure, whatever.”

You blinked at him slowly, processing. The thought of being open with him made your chest feel like it was filled with cotton. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. If you really don’t care then…” His eyes opened, and they were almost golden with the setting sun's reflection. “Then I don’t either.”

A smarter part of you knew that you shouldn’t be as starstruck as you were. Being with Nathan had a price, and it was a damaging one. It was easy to claim that you didn’t mind some harassment here and there since you were alone, safe with him, but what would happen when you were alone? You weren’t the strongest, you weren’t the fastest. You didn’t want to use Nathan’s name as a shield, either. If some asshole decided to make your day hell then you were stuck.

But, a dumber, romantic part of you, didn’t care. So much of you wanted to touch him, fingers longing to lock and intertwine with his own. Nathan was bony and uncomfortable yet your heart stuttered at hugging him, leaning against him, lying beside him. He was so closed off and guarded that when he finally did open up bits of himself you greedily couldn’t get enough.

“Good,” you breathed. Words tumbled against the tip of your tongue but they couldn’t take shape, your lips moving to try and force another sentence out. That same dry and full feeling returned and it was a miracle you could even speak at all when you asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Nathan was caught off guard. You could see it in his eyes, the way they zeroed in on you before shifting back to nothing in particular. Beneath you the merrygoround creaked as it barely moved. When he looked at you, uncertain, you swallowed thickly and readied yourself to apologize. However, you didn’t need to. He nodded once and ducked beneath the railing, and you met him halfway with your heart thudding in your chest.

It was a quick kiss, chaste and rather plain, but it was more than enough. He molded against you perfectly in those few seconds, his eyes closed and shoulders relaxed. Before it ended your fingers twitched to reach out and grab some part of him, hold him close, but he broke away before you managed to. Albeit having kissed before, this one felt different. You and Nathan had been lip locked for hours on end it seemed sometimes, wrapped around one another to the point where you had no idea where you started and he ended. However this wasn’t like those times. This kiss was shy and sensitive, and when you finally opened your eyes he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“How was that?” He asked suddenly, his sentence rushed and wavery. You smiled and reached out to gently take the fabric of his jacket in your hand.

“Again.”

Once more Nathan looked down at you but his previous expression was gone, his qualms away with it. Oddly affectionate, warm even, a sight that you’d come to know but didn’t get to see quite often. He ducked under the bar again and just like before you met him halfway, your lips meeting more intense than they had before. This kiss you recognized. It was the type of kiss you felt when he was in a calmer state of mind, usually met when he’d just woken up from a long nap, or when he decided to get loving during a night in your dorm.

It was tender, and softer than anything you’d even known. He didn’t pull away moments later this time- if anything he deepened the kiss with a tilt of his head in the process. You fisted his jacket and tried to scoot closer to him, but found you were separated from the railing placed in between your bodies.

When you and him broke apart the last thing on your mind was the fact that you were still out in the open, able to be seen by whomever happened to be around. Instead you were focused on the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, and the way that his eyes darted from your own to something else in timidity. You realized that as much as this was new to you, it was even more new to him. He’d probably never had a public relationship before, not one that worked out anyways.

You grinned, a giggling laugh slipping past your lips. He scoffed at your bubbliness and rolled his eyes, shifting back onto his side of the railing and shaking his head. Still you saw beyond the action, taking mental note of the way his lips seemed to make an effort as to not curl up into a smile.  

Shards of the sun leaked through the trees, now fat with leaves as they should be, and they painted the side of his face. The merry go round creaked again as it slowly spun, your shoes lightly digging into the wood chips on the ground. Nathans hand rested close to your own, and it felt like he was wordlessly inviting you. Tentatively, as if reaching out to pet an animal, you brushed your fingers along his scarred knuckles and felt them twitch. He didn’t move his hand away like he used to when you’d accidentally brush yours against his own. Those moments stung, and now this would be the bandage.

The ride stopped drifting in circles, you watched the treelines beside Nathan, and you held his hand.

[crookedspoonfic]

WIP Day #3

Your Canon-Verse WIP.

I give up. There are still two hours left in the day, but that’s not nearly enough time for me to beat this thing into shape. Instead, I’ll give you a peek.

I don’t know if this actually counts as canon, because I made up all of it. My goal was to try and keep the character dynamic more or less canon-compliant, but uhh, I think we don’t get to canon events in this snippet.

Fandom: The Raven Cycle Characters/Pairings: Kavinsky (+Ronan) Rating: Mature for child abuse, bullying, homophobia, drug abuse, and being wacky in the head, I suppose

When I started this: October 2016, in one form or another When I last touched it: March 2017

But first, another of my unnecessary and unnecessarily long comments: This grew out of my first try at TRC fic, which thankfully never made it to the light of day. It was that obligatory canon character study, but it was terrible. I repurposed some lines for a rewrite and tried different approaches, like splitting it up and using the individual parts for other projects, which is probably why the mood is all over the place.

For the purpose of this WIP challenge, I stitched some back together and added some ideas I had regarding K’s potential backstory. Today’s edit also weirdly turned the mood in this from rather sad to slightly dark and fucked up. Go me.

Under the cut, you’ll find nearly 2k of “idk what this is, whether it makes sense, or if I should continue to work on it.” (I pretty much just like stacking words on top of one another and wait for them to topple into place.)

Enjoy. If you can.

You tell yourself you haven't always been this pathetic.

You've spent many hours in grand stupors, passed out on bathroom floors, hallways, stairs even, waking to a pain in your head, your joints, your heart that would only grow worse over time unless you get another fix -- to alleviate the emotional impact if not the physical one -- and sometimes you don't because you're unable to move, unable to do anything but sink deeper into the pit of despair that lurks so far below the surface mere cutting tools don't reach it.

Yeah, you've been there and you've grown used to it, used to starting awake in strangers' cars, in stranger's beds, on strange piles of shards and other things with jagged, rending edges, like yesterday's trash, broken and forgotten.

You've grown used to starting awake to strangers in your house, on your floor, your bed, (you -- like your body's a blow-up doll and no longer yours when your consciousness vacates it for a while,) used to loud music, fast cars, and neon strobe lights, used to having crowds around you, fawning over you, spewing the same sycophantic bullshit as anyone else, while their drinks slosh dangerously in their cups and their fingers find their way into your hair, your mouth, your pockets, turned inside out in search for what only you can give them: the ride of their lives.

Disorientation became your game and you played it till you won.

It was a way of life and you were living it, disregarding that you were already dead inside.

You've been in a string of pathetic situations before you learned to ride the buzz and not let it ride you, before you learned that staying high and staying in control were not mutually exclusive even if it was fun for a time to give up one for the other. Keeps you on your toes.

Going up, you never worried about coming down. You never worried about anything.

So, you've been fucked up a lot, but you've never felt as fucked up as you do now, empty and shaking and so alone. There are texts on your phone, but your thumbs too numb to open them, the screen is screeching at your eyes, and the messages are garbled as if the words had been thrown into a blender. They don't go through to you.

Inside your chest, a nauseating merry-go-round made of razor wire is slicing at you, whittling you away, carving you hollow.

You like to think you haven't always been this way. That there's a progression to these things.

Yours seems inevitable enough.

You still remember the days before now, before this, before everything, although you try your best to erase them, line by fucking line. It's easier to forget than to go running around with all that baggage. Who needs that shit anyway?

You were a sweet-faced boy, the aunts told you, by which they meant you look like a girl. You hated that.

They weren't your aunts, but wives of the men who worked for your father, and they came by to keep your mother company when he was away. Or busy. Or both. Which was all the time. You thought of them as a flock of birds for their matching outfits, their gleaming jewelry, their impeccable hair, the way they tittered and they cooed, and how you've never seen one arrive without the others.

So they perched on the sofa and the armchairs, coffee cups daintily placed on their saucers, and they sang their merry tune of how lucky your mother was for having such a sweet boy, such an angel, he does so take after you, dear. They simpered, pinched your cheeks, ruffled your hair, and you hated it at the time, hated that you had to be still and smile and endure it, because if you did, they'd stop fussing sooner instead of later, growing bored with you as if you sort of faded in the background.

But you liked the attention all the same. At least somebody noticed you for a while.

*

The aunts brought their sons, if they had them, and brought toys if they didn't. Action figures, toy cars, dinosaurs, whatever they'd been told young boys your age were crazy about. Or they brought stories about how they would also like a son, a healthy, strong son, because their husbands wanted one, so that is what they should want, too. Maybe they did, but you couldn't tell, you could only overhear bits and pieces when you sneaked into the kitchen to get away from the other boys.

You were supposed to be playing with them, be nice to them, but they weren't nice to you, so why should you care? You were small, you were fine-boned and you were pretty, and nobody liked you.

But it was okay, you didn't like them either.

Except that you did, in ways you didn't understand at the time, because nobody told you about these things and you never had the chance to figure them out for yourself.

Maybe they didn't like the implications of you, maybe you made them feel something they weren't supposed to feel, maybe there's always been something despicable about you. Maybe that was it. All you know is that they teased you, that they made you cry because of it, and that your father didn't want a cry-baby for a son. He never called you his son, he called you other things that took you years to understand, things that the boys in your backyard echoed before they wrestled you to the ground and stuffed sticks and soil and sand into your mouth and made you swallow.

You still remember their names or what names they called you, what they looked like,

what they made you feel.

Your father never said anything to the boys or their fathers. Why would he? It would draw attention to what a pathetic weakling you were and he was probably too ashamed of you already. His preferred method of making sure you wouldn't get beat up again was taking the matter out of their hands. You earned yourself a clout whenever he caught you sniveling, sometimes even if it was from a cold, and sometimes he wouldn't stop until you stopped.

Sometimes you wondered if he wanted you to stop completely.

You were supposed to stand up for yourself, that was the understanding.

Your mother didn't like how he ruined your face, you were her handsome boy after all, but she also did nothing to stop him. That was fine with you. If he used his fists on you, maybe he wouldn't have to use them on her. (That was before she took to hitting you as well, you devil child, you cursed evil thing, when you still had some loyalty in you, some sense of solidarity.) He never hit <em>her </em>face, but a shiner or two on yours were okay because it detracts from your looks and adds character. Simple as that.

It's a lesson you took to heart and made use of at school. Your father liked to see you get into fights, liked it when you came home with scarred knuckles and split skin, when you proved to him you were a man after all and worthy of being called his son.

You stare into the mirror. Nothing stares back. You're seeing through yourself, at the wall in the back, or maybe the back of your head. It's dark in there, it must be, you cannot see the light.

You're covered in gasoline and someone struck a match. Your skin is burning.

This is what his touch must feel like. Around your throat, squeezing the life out of you. Whatever life there is left of you.

You splash some water on your face and it reappears in the mirror.

Pretty thing, they used to call you. They used to beat you up for it, as if your looks were somehow offensive to them.

No one would call you pretty now, with your sunken cheeks, broken nose and bloodshot eyes, and you prefer it that way.

You conceal the damage of last night and the many nights before with white sunglasses and a grin that's as changeable as your mood while it remains one thing at its core. An impenetrable fortress.

Your parents may have taught you something useful, after all.

There must have been a time when you thought your parents loved you, that they just couldn't show it in words or gestures, so they showered you with gifts to distract you from their emptiness that was becoming your emptiness.

"You need to stop spoiling him," they told each other when they thought you couldn't hear, but they never did.

When you woke up to yet another gift on your pillow, one you've been wishing for very hard but never had the chance to tell them about, you thought it was their way of saying sorry for being so distant. You thought it was their way of soothing you after your nightmares.

You were delighted by it when you were very small, and put off by it as you grew older, because you saw it as a cheap ploy to buy your loyalty. Fuck that.

Until you noticed they didn't get you anything.

"You're spoiling him too much. He's soft enough."

"I thought you got him this toy."

The answer to this riddle, however, was a much better gift than anything they could have given you.

You know now that every gift comes with strings attached. And sometimes, those strings are darkness itself.

Come to think of it, your mother never hit you before your very existence started to threaten her sanity. Not that she'd had much of it to begin with, but your dreaming didn't exactly help. It only exacerbated it. And then, when you killed your father and he still continued living after that, well, that was the end of it. She never let you live that one down.

Or she wouldn't, if you kept her sedated any less. She prefers the brain fog to the knowledge of what you are, too. Otherwise she could have left a long time ago. Tried to, in fact, but even with her means, she was unable to find anything that killed her brain that what you provided for free.

Family discount.

You've had enough to drink for a lifetime, but there's a restlessness eating you up from inside that you need to douse and you know just the thing to do it with.

It comes in a plain vodka bottle, looks and tastes like lighter fuel, and the fumes alone are enough to intoxicate you three ways from Sunday.

The best part about it, however, is how much it burns. Every swig of that hellish concoction is another splash of kerosene onto that ever-raging fire that is consuming the very fiber of your being.

You know who you have to thank for stoking it, for making it so unbearable to take another goddamn fucking breath.

Family, you think. It's more of a curse than a thought, really. But it rams itself into your head with the force of a sledgehammer.

Family. Now there's an idea.

[callunavulgari]

SCRAPBOOK 2017 - TAKE TWO

Scrapbook for the second half of 2017, because tumblr doesn’t like it when you have a million links on one post.

Italicized titles = enjoyed muchly, bold titles = love, titles with an asterisk* = OBSESSION and titles in (brackets) are re-watches/re-reads. And lastly, strikethough = DISLIKE.

Goals are: read thirty-five new books this year (yikes, way behind), finish four video games (definitely on track here), finish writing and publish the Sabriel AU (eh heh), and write something original (does coming up with the idea count?). 

MOVIES

June

Wonder Woman

(Doctor Strange)

Kiki’s Delivery Service

Bronson

Chocolat

Tristan and Isolde

(Moana)

Power Rangers

July

Spiderman: Homecoming

Mona Lisa Smile

Baby Driver

(Logan)

Ouija: Origins of Evil

(Star Wars: Rogue One)

Passengers

Atomic Blonde

King and I

Stranded

August

The Sixth Sense

(Armageddon)

Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children

9

(The Princess Diaries)

(X-Men: Apocalypse)

Legend

(Silent Hill)

BOOKS

June:

Authority | Jeff Vandermeer

July:

Authority | Jeff Vandermeer 

The Secret History | Donna Tarte

A Wrinkle In Time | Madeline L’Engle [Fin]

The Archived | Victoria Schwab [Fin]

Scythe | Neal Shusterman  [Fin]

Shadow and Bone | Leigh Bardugo [Fin]

August

Siege and Storm | Leigh Bardugo [Fin]

Less | Andrew Sean Greer

Authority | Jeff Vandermeer

A Wind In The Door |  Madeline L’Engle [Fin]

PODCASTS

June:

The Bright Sessions Eps 31-32

Alice Isn’t Dead Eps 3-4

Welcome to Night Vale 1-3

July:

Alice Isn’t Dead Eps 4-5

EOS 10 Eps 1-3

August

N/A

TV SHOWS BY SEASON

June:

Grace and Frankie

American Gods

(Stranger Things)

How to Get Away With Murder s2

Black Sails s2

July:

Black Sails s2

Grace and Frankie

Stargate SG-1 s2, s3

Doctor Who s8

The Strain

Boku no Hero Academia 

August

Westworld

Voltron s3

Game of Thrones s7

The Strain

Yamishibai

Jerry Springer  (Vacation w/ boyfriend’s family. Brother and friends are awful.)

VIDEO GAMES

June:

LoZ: Breath of the Wild (Definitely more than 40 hrs; Fin)

Dishonored 2 (Corvo Playthrough, 7 hrs)

Witcher 3 (15 hrs?)

July:

Witcher 3 (15 hrs?)

(Final Fantasy XV, 2 hrs)

August

(Final Fantasy XV, 2 hrs)

DELIGHTFUL FIC

June:

Running on Air by eleventy7 (HP; Drarry; 75k;  Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.)

Slithering by astolat (HP; Drarry; 27k;  Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.)

Bitter Honey, Green Night by Faith Wood (faithwood) (HP; Drarry; 14k;  An inn, an Auror, a criminal, a mystery.)

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi (HP; Drarry; 93k;  'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.)

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi (HP; Drarry; 57k; Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.)

stranger things than polyamory by trepan (Stranger Things; Jonathon/Steve/Nancy; 3.5k;  Somebody spray-paints NANCY WHEELER HAS TWO BOYFRIENDS on a wall she walks by on her way back from school in May. There are a couple of other students watching her as she passes. Nancy gives the sign a long look, then smirks at them politely.)

the heart its own rough animal by trepan (Stranger Things; Jonathon/Nancy/Steve; 21k;  “Where’s her daemon,” says one of the boys urgently. “Guys, she doesn’t have one.”)

in the bone by patho (ghostsoldier) (Dishonored; Corvo/Outsider; 2.8k;  It all began when Corvo started kissing the Mark for luck.)

The Sea and Stars Are Yours, My Dear, But the Moon Would Not Cooperate by NeverwinterThistle (Dishonored; Corvo/Outsider; 25k; The Outsider explores the murky seas of human courtship while Corvo watches in bemusement, and in the background Emily draws, Callista takes charge, Piero sulks, and Cecelia accidentally becomes indispensable. There's also a plague, a vase of asparagus, and about a hundred singing whales who randomly showed up in the harbour one evening.The squid is still wriggling.)

apocrypha by aerynlallaboso (Dishonored; Corvo/Outsider; 95k+; WIP;  The Eighth year of the reign of Empress Emily Kaldwin, First of her Name, the second year without a whisper from the Outsider, is the year the Void chooses to mark the end of an era.)

a small soft death by patho (ghostsoldier) (Dishonored; Corvo/Outsider; 2.8k; “The finest steel,” the Outsider says, “is forged with true purpose in mind. Elements that enhance the strength of the weapon are carefully chosen, and those that make the metal brittle and weak are burned away. It is an exacting process. The most beautiful dagger will be of no use at all if the steel is not properly tempered. Do you understand?”)

in·car·nate by bygoneboy (Dishonored; Corvo/Outsider; 21k; The Void’s Chosen have loved him before.)

The Crown of the Summer Court by astolat (Merlin; Merlin/Arthur; 24k;  "The king sent me to get you," Merlin said, with a tone that implied strongly that he wasn't rolling his eyes where Arthur could see, but just wait until his back was turned. "He said you're to get changed into formal clothes and meet him in the Great Hall, there's a delegation coming from the Summer Court.")

the king of oak by saltpans (HP: FBAWTFT; Credance/Percival Graves; 38k; The first thing Percival Graves does after being released back into the world is buy a new wand.)

Hi, You Were My Husband in Another Life, Professor by littlebirdtold (Star Trek; Spirk; 48k; Um, hi. I'm Jim. Jim Kirk. You don't know me, but I know you. Well, sort of. It's a long story.)

  Bluebird by waldorph (Star Trek; Spirk; 7k; Jim whipped around so fast most of his drink ended up on Spock, who was reaching for the phaser that wasn’t there. The Enterprise crew was parting like the biblical seas before Moses, and Jim could feel the temperature dropping. “Mom,” Jim croaked.)

Misethere by astolat (Witcher 3; Geralt/Emhyr; 46k; Emhyr was looking at him for once, with a strange expression. “I have misjudged you,” he said, sounding irritated actually: how dare Geralt surprise him.“I get that a lot,” Geralt said.)

Blooded Crown by astolat (Witcher 3; Geralt/Emhyr; 24k; “You need not thank me,” Emhyr said. “I have an ulterior motive.”It annoyed Geralt to be surprised. He should’ve known from the start. “Yeah?” The words came out with a little bite. “Have another daughter you need me to track down?”“If I wished to hire you, I would hire you,” Emhyr said. “No: I want you to come to my bed.”)

Cursed by astolat (Witcher 3; Geralt/Emhyr; 8k;  Geralt was reasonably sure this was the worst damn day of the worst damn month of his life, and it hadn’t hit bottom yet.)

July:

The War of Silver and Ash by astolat (Witcher 3; Geralt/Emhyr; 15k; He hadn’t come here with a contract. He’d come here to get the faces out of his head: the bloodless dead sprawled in heaps through the streets of Beauclair, the morning after the rampage Detlaff had unleashed; the blank eyes of the boy in the orphanage tilting his head to let Orianna drink from his throat, with the lullaby she’d been singing him still hanging in the air.Wasn’t working that well so far.)

A Year In Toussaint by astolat (Witcher 3; Geralt/Emhyr; 30k; Geralt had no damn idea what to do with a vineyard when Anna Henrietta gave him Corvo Bianco, but he figured it couldn’t be that bad.)

circling by xpityx (Witcher 3; Geralt/Emhyr; 5k; Emhyr sighed, as if Geralt’s lack of immediate understanding was a fundamental failure of his character.)

Running Behind by Asidian (FFXV; Prompto/Noctis; WIP;  There's a tag hanging on his storage pod, instead of the clipboard that documents his progress. On that tag, there's a single word stamped in red: defective.)

Toys by astolat (Lucifer; Lucifer/Chloe; 2k; “You want to fuck me!” he said gleefully.)

Emblazoning by astolat (Merlin; OT4; 19k; Morgana turned away from the high, barred window and rubbed her arms, chilled and bare. Arthur was sitting in the dirty straw at the very limit of his chains, which kept him a few inches too far away to touch Merlin's limp body. Outside they were putting up the stake.)

Redemption Merry Go-Round by astolat (Lucifer; Lucifer/Dan/Chloe; 8k;  Dan was deeply sorry for whatever he’d done in his life that had landed him in this mess, and also reasonably sure that despite all the shit he’d pulled in the last couple of years, he still didn’t deserve this.)

wild peaches by notbecauseofvictories (The Labyrinth; Sarah/Goblin King; 3k;  The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast.)

where the weeds take root by beenghosting (Supernatural; Destiel; 30k+;  “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”)

damnatio memoriae by temporalDecay (Witcher 3; Geralt/Emhyr; 12k;  “May I walk the estate?” Emhyr repeated, and his nose crinkled in that familiar twitch of displeasure that Geralt had always secretly delighted in causing, despite how downright suicidal it was to invoke it on purpose. “I'm not going to run away,” he added, with a slight glare. “I'm merely bored.”)

Heart and Home by lc2l (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 97k; In an alternate Paris, werewolves occupy the majority of the ruling classes, making and adjusting policy to suit their interests. The punishments for a human attacking a werewolf can be brutal, unless they have the protection of a wolf pack.How this translates to 'claim Grantaire as your mate to get him out of prison' is something Enjolras is still trying to get his head around, but he's never been one to give up on a cause even when it's sleeping on his sofa.)

August

How the Future's Done by barricadeur (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 12k;  "Grantaire," he says slowly. "What do you have in that box?")

vocal ink by sarahyyy (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 3k; “Officially, we don’t have a leader, everyone here is equal,” Courfeyrac says, keeping his voice low as Enjolras starts his speech, “but if we did, and we don’t, it would be Enjolras.” He looks over to Marius. “Do not approach him. Let him come to you, let him be the first to initiate conversation, and for the love of God, do not mention soulmates.”)

Years Since It's Been Clear by lady_ragnell (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 10k;  Grantaire really doesn't expect Enjolras to force him to move in with him when he hears how shitty Grantaire's apartment is. And he definitely doesn't expect Enjolras to want him to stay, or how easy it turns out to be, or the way Enjolras has a habit of doing his studying in the sunshine on the living room floor ...)

Tolerable (Inuyasha; Sesshomaru&Miroku; 30k; “The scent is not entirely unpleasant.”)

Silence Is the Speech of Love by lady_ragnell (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 50k; Grantaire's life has a pattern: he pays his respects to Aphrodite, he goes to work, he loves Enjolras and provokes him because he can't bring himself to do otherwise.)

The Five Year Plan by Neery (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 16k;  Enjolras loses his memory. Thankfully, nothing unexpected seems to have happened to him in the five years he can't remember. Well, except for the boyfriend. The boyfriend's kind of a surprise.)

dance this silence down (the emergency room remix) by Fahye (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 54k;  He's sitting in a car with all of his belongings in the back seat and his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, admitting to himself that a stupid, dizzy firework of a one-night-stand with a man he'd barely known is one of the only bright memories he has right now.)

World Ain't Ready by idiopathicsmile (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 185k; Enjolras presses his lips together. He already looks pained, and Grantaire hasn't even opened his mouth yet. That's got to be a record, even for them."I need a favor," he says at last)**

  The Ghost of You by luchia (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 25k; Grantaire moves into an apartment inhabited by a poltergeist. Enjolras haunts him, and Grantaire should really win an award for most complicated relationship status ever.)

box of secrets by nightswatch (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 53k;  Grantaire leaves his doodles all over the place. Enjolras collects them without knowing who drew them.)

Yes, Sir by mikkimouse (Voltron; Sheith; 8k; "Are you all ready to get started?""Yes, sir!" twenty voices answered in unison.Shiro's stomach flipped at the words. Oh, no.The soulmark on his right wrist burned, confirmation that his soulmate was one of the twenty people who'd just uttered the phrase.)

despite what you've been told by caseyvalhalla (Yuri On Ice; Yuuri/Viktor; 14k; When Victor falls, he goes down hard.)

these things take time by sonhoedesrazao (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 63k;  He’s always wary of making assumptions; even more so when Grantaire is concerned. He knows he’s not the easiest person to deal with. People either like him or can’t stand him, and it’s easy to respond to those reactions, but Grantaire—Grantaire is hostile and mocking, Grantaire scorns his beliefs, and Grantaire stays.)

In the End We Have Each Other by samyazaz (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 50k; what startles Enjolras the most is that he manages approximately half a step through the door into the back room where they all meet before Grantaire rattles his glass down on the table in the back that he's taken for his own and drawls, "Is there something you forgot to tell us, Apollo?"That silences the room, predictably enough. Everyone breaks off their conversations and swivels to stare at him. At him, and at the baby carrier that he's got hooked over one arm.)

True Colors by lady_ragnell (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 4k;  The first thing that catches Enjolras's eye when he enters the Musain Cafe for the first time is the walls. They're a dull black that it takes him a moment to realize must be chalkboard paint, because near the tables there are words and doodles, and all over, even the erased sections are stained with faint colored marks like the walls have soulmarks.)

Hit Me With Your Best Shot by tellthemstories (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantaire; 10k; Fourteen times Grantaire tried to kill Enjolras.And one time he fell in love.)

RSVP (+1) by tellthemstories (Les Mis; Enjolras/Grantire; 21k;  When Enjolras is invited to Marius and Cosette’s wedding, he fully intends to ignore the ‘plus one’ on the invite. He’s busy at work and he has a lot on - he doesn’t have time for relationships. What he doesn’t expect is for Grantaire to invite himself along and then hit it off immediately with all of his friends.)

always there to remind you by estora, taywen (Dishonored; Corvo/Daud; 8k;  Later, after he had killed a number of people for coin, but before he killed so many that he lost count, Daud was glad he had no mark. No soulmate deserved to have his words marked on their skin.)

( Watercast by Fishwrites (Voltron; Lance/Keith; 96k; WIP;  Shiro has been a Galra prisoner for over a year; with his flight feathers clipped and unable to fly. Desperate to escape, he jumps overboard while being transported to the capitol on a Galran ship. Lance is a merman who saves him from drowning. Keith thinks Shiro is about to become mermaid dinner. Hunk just wants Lance to stop going to the surface all the time, dammit!))

DELIGHTFUL FANVIDS

June:

Multifandom || Tessellate (TYS: round2)

Multifandom || Bleeding out (collab w/ KatrinDepp)

Multifandom || Is this Real?

Multifandom || Insane Like Me (TYS: round1)

Multifandom │ Warriors

July:

the beast of america | percival graves

Get You Killed || Percival Graves

Percival Graves - Hit & Run

► Graves (+Credence) | Are You Insane Like Me?

Credence Barebone/Percival Graves || And I wanna fight, But I can't contend

[FIREFLY] - She always did love to dance

[Multifandom] - Dance with me

The Last of Us || Can't Pretend

The Walking Dead || Bottom of the River

Multifandom || Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight

Doctor Who (Logan Style)

Spider-Man (Peter Parker) // Everybody Loves Me

Iron Man (Tony Stark) // Gold

In The Flesh | we're gonna die, die, die

In The Flesh || We're Alone Now

Fantastic Beasts || Step into the light

Stranger Things|| Knocking On Heaven's Door

Jonathan & Nancy|| Tighten Up

Multifandom|| Stuck.Broken.Dead.

[Multifandom] - One Word

Marvel | Human

percival graves | can't hold us

August

Hela // Castle

grantaire & enjolras - help me kill the president

Game of Thrones || Blood of My Blood (for 60k)

(GoT) House Stark | The North Remembers

(GoT) Jaime Lannister | Oathbreaker

Jonathan Byers || I'm not like everybody else

Uptown Funk || Marvel Universe

MARVEL || Can't hold us

GLITTER & GOLD || Multifandom [HNY●2017]

I'M SO SORRY | Marvel Cinematic Universe

David Haller [Legion] | Dysfunctional

(Legion) It's Better When it Feels Wrong

unless you make it real [Legion]

not today [yuri on ice]

Haikyuu!! || not today

Multifandom | Tame Your Demons (w/SnowLightxx)

Six Of Crows - Trouble

marvel || battle royale

(GoT) Jon Snow | The Targaryen Wolf

Arya Stark // See What I've Become

(GoT) Jon Snow || The Wolf With Dragon's Blood

MARVEL/DC || BORN ready 

DELIGHTFUL MUSIC

June:

Johnny Hollow - Boogeyman

Sia - To Be Human feat. Labrinth

Lorde - Green Light

The National - "Don't Swallow the Cap"

The Growlers - "I'll Be Around"

The xx - I Dare You

Phantogram - Fall In Love

alt J - In Cold Blood

And I Waited All Night For You To Come, But You Never Did

Sia - The Greatest

Hopeless Fountain Kingdom - Halsey (Album)

History - Monakr

Wildcat! Wildcat! - Relentless (feat. Wynne)

Ingrid Michaelson - In the Sea

Cities in Dust Lyrics- The Everlove

Prides - Messiah

ODESZA - It's Only (feat. Zyra)

Metric - Breathing Underwater

Purity Ring - Sea Castle

Hundreds - Fighter

Labyrinth Ear - Urchin

Rasputina - Dig Ophelia

Sóley - Fight Them Soft

Soap&Skin - Boat Turns Toward The Port

CocoRosie - R.I.P. Burn Face

AURORA - Nature Boy

July:

Hamilton Soundtrack

Karen O - I Shall Rise

Miracle of Sound - Lady of Worlds 

Annie Lennox - I Put A Spell On You

Woodkid - IRON (Sara cover)

Peronal Yeezus By Chambaland (Atomic Blonde Trailer Music)

Kesha - Praying

twenty one pilots: Screen

Lemaitre - Higher

Regina Spektor-Blue Lips

Zaz - Les Passants

Katie Costello - Stranger

Arctic Monkeys - Knee Socks

Silversun Pickups - The Pit

If I Apologized - Mirrormask 

August

Les Mis - One Day More

Les Mis - Red and Black

Les Mis - Do You Hear the People Sing

Les Mis - Epilogue

Sleeping At Last - Mars

Hozier - Take Me To Church

Lynrd Skynrd - Freebird

You - Keaton Henson

Radical Face - All Is Well (It’s Only Blood)

Valerie Broussard - Trouble

Erutan - The Willow Maid

Imagine Dragons - Gold

Imagine Dragons - Thunder

Which Witch - Florence & the Machine

Paint It, Black - Ramin Djawadi

Honor For All - Dishonored

Daniel Licht - The Return

Patrick Wolf - Teignmouth 

Ballet Breakup - RvB

WRITTEN FIC

June:

it's warm, this skin i'm living in (SGA; Rodney/John; 1,170 words; When he is thirty-seven years old, John Sheppard thinks about the universe.

it's good to be in love, it really does suit you (KH; Sora/Riku/Kairi; 1,694 words; “We’ve done dangerous before.” Sora shrugs. “Getting a mortgage was dangerous, but we did it anyway.”)

a hazy shade of winter (Stranger Things; Steve/Nancy/Jonathan; 1,863 words; In November, they build a tree house.)

July:

can't deny your appetite (SGA; Rodney/John; 4,031 words; John finds out that there’s a vampire in Atlantis the day after they’ve stepped through the gate.He finds out that the vampire in question is Rodney McKay four weeks later, when they’re all hunkered down in the yawning shadow of some crumbling ruins and Rodney looks at him, his eyes eerily bright in the darkness, sees the blood on John’s face, and says, “Oh.”)

August

caught off guard by you (FFXV; Prompto/Noctis; 1,671 words;  “I just got you back,” Prompto says quietly, words muffled into the curve of Noctis’s neck.)

take me to church (Teen Wolf; Sterek; 3,129 words;  Derek scoffs. “You want to take me back to Quantico.”)

FANMIXES/GRAPHICS

June:

N/A

July:

the salt water sting:  wor·ship | noun | the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity.

The Flash | Fire Fire [Vid]

August

love has no heart: A mix for those with no hearts.

i believe in you: You love him. The story still ends.

January.

February.

March.

April.

May.

June.

July.

August.

[gaiatheorist]

Telling myself “Don’t...”

“Proper don’t!”, as the boy would frequently tell me, when he saw that particular glint in my eyes, or our peculiarly aligned-minds would throw up something totally inappropriate at the same time. The number of times we finish each other’s sentences, especially when they’re complete nonsense is amusing, if slightly concerning. 

I told myself to stay off Fakebook yesterday, but I’m incredibly bad at doing what I’m told. Fuck it, I’m just incredibly bad in general. You know my general level of arsehole/twat/Terrible Bastard? I’m worse on my birthday. Ludicrous, because my general standpoint is that it’s just another day, but every year, without fail, I get myself wound up, because other people think birthdays are a ‘thing’. OK, I’m also probably premenstrual, and the boy was going back to uni yesterday, so I was additionally moody, AND it was a birthday other people think of as a big one, if I didn’t have stuff to do, I would have gone and spent the day in the shed, or the loft, or something. (I have, historically, deactivated Fakebook around my birthday, but I’ve forgotten the password, and can’t be arsed to change it, because my Fakebook is linked to an email account I don’t use, and I’ve forgotten the password to THAT as well, for fuck’s sake, I’m difficult.)

*Ping* “Have a great day!” (Fuck off.)

*Ping* “Happy Birthday, hope it’s fantastic!” (Fuck OFF.)

*Ping* (I’m not even looking. Oh, that was a text, I’d better look. It’s my mobile provider telling me my allowances have been refreshed.)

I know I’m in the minority, but I really don’t give a shit about birthdays, and other-people’s insistence that I should be ‘enjoying’ this particular date-of-little-relevance just tips my shit. “Hope you get lots of nice presents!” (FUCK OFF, I’m 40, not 4.) A couple of years ago I had a “Hope your fella is spoiling you rotten!”, which absolutely tipped my shit, because that was the year he’d bought me heated motorcycle under-garments, in the wrong size. Fakebook don’t get me, and most of the time I do try to play nice, which probably makes it worse, because I actually am a nasty cunt, and NOT typing the first-response to some of the drivel they post lulls them into a false sense of security.

I’m horrible, accept that, and move on. I can be vile, disgusting, inappropriate and abhorrent without blinking or pausing for breath. Aside from being able to produce all manner of gubbins from my bag or pockets, I’m the opposite of Mary Poppins, there isn’t a ‘nice’ bone in my body, I’m fucking awful, but I’m really good at it. I’m also really good at mostly-only being awful in safe settings, I’m not vulgar in open-public-spaces, and I don’t say ‘fuck’ on the bus. Factor in that the most significant of my brain damage is frontal-lobe, and that takes some managing.  

The boy was anxious, either about going back to uni, spending the weekend with his Dad, or leaving me here on my own. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to explore, or help in any meaningful way, but I do try desperately not to be unkind to him. He kept asking me if I wanted money to buy wine, and I kept saying ‘No.’, even though I now have pretty-much no money until payday. He kept trying to give me things. OK, one of the things was a dead spider, and another was a packet of toffees I’d given him for Christmas. (It’s fine, I’ll wrap them back up for HIS birthday.)

The ex brought me gin, which was overwhelming in the extreme, because last year was his 50th birthday, and he spent it alone in the cat-flat, the second day of our separation.

So, I told myself to leave Fakebook alone for the day, and continued on my merry way around the housework, taking photos of rubbish, and muck, and the disgusting quantity of boy-hair I pulled out of the bath plug-hole, just in case some Fakebook knobhead decided to push my buttons with “Are you doing anything nice for your birthday?” I’m evil, I may have mentioned this already. The ‘plan’, such as it was, was to make some semblance of sense of the TIP the boy had left his bedroom in so it didn’t make my eyes go twitchy every time I walked past it. Then I was going to have a bath. (Yes, I do close the door, but I still ‘know’ what’s behind it, he’d been here a month, and hadn’t thought to Hoover etc.) He’d left a bastard textbook (Ooh, now, maybe I could WRITE that?) so I Fakebook-messaged him to ask Granddad to call to pick it up if he needed it. No response, because the ex’s wifi is worse than mine, I had to text-message the ex. The in-laws were going to call for the book ‘later’. IT’S MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY, I JUST WANT A HOT BATH AFTER SPENDING MOST OF THE DAY CLEANING! 

The in-laws came, and hovered on the doormat, and asked if I’d had my ‘tests done’ yet. Christ, it’s fucking difficult to explain to them that I have brain injuries, that I still look like ‘me’, but I’m massively altered from the way I remember being. “Are they still paying you, though?” (What’s that got to do with you?) “Yes, they’re still paying me, and when that runs out, I can always start flashing my ankles, can’t I?” They didn’t quite know what to make of that, I think they’ve had enough time away from me to forget the whole “Is she joking, or does she mean that?” thing. 

I eventually had my bath, and nothing fell off. (I’m 40 now, bits might start falling off.) I realised that, even though Fakebook KNOW I’m rude, a couple of them know where I live, and might come round to check I hadn’t put my head in the oven, as I wasn’t responding to the “Happy Birthday!” posts. I poured a gin, and wrote a LOVELY ‘thank you’ post, referencing that it was ‘AMAZING’ that I was 40, being born in 1977, and it now being 2017, and I couldn’t ‘BELIEVE’ that 40 came after 39 etc. I’m horrible, I’ve probably mentioned that. I also added that I’d had a ‘great’ day, cleaning the floor, and pulling a HUGE lump of hair out of the plug-hole, which I’d then considered knitting into a cat. I pointed out that I’m obnoxious, obstinate, and sarcastic, and had no intention of changing, just in case anyone got huffy at me for not being overjoyed that they’d clicked a few characters into a box when they got the Fakebook automated birthday reminder.  

I shouldn’t have done it, because, for a while, the people who hadn’t already wished me ‘Happy Birthday’, due to either forgetting I existed, or knowing I’m an odious wretch who doesn’t really do ‘Happy’ decided to wish me ‘Happy Birthday!’, like they hadn’t even read the post about me not being bothered about birthdays, and having spent most of the day cleaning... Or they had, and were being twatty, you can’t out-twat THIS twat. 

There you go, I told myself not to go on Fakebook, then did it anyway, this whole daft blog has been an attempt NOT to continue an argument on the comments section of a newspaper. Don’t, me, proper don’t.