#and as a child i used to eat that exact meal for dinner and it would fill me up

[kradnie]

the girl dinner thing is funny cause like there were the different branches of the trend, but also different versions of the song,, and like

everyone knows girl dinner but no one gets me when I say feast for a winner :(

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won’t Let Go

No good deed goes unpunished

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 2.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie apocalypse (I like how I lied to both myself and y’all that there was ever gonna be a chance of it being another type of apocalypse), both John and Love are a little crazy which is to be expected re: zombie!au, more nausea, more pregnancy related discourse, zombie world building and the ramifications/implications of being pregnant in the apocalypse, the author is currently having A Thing about pepperoncinis, strong hints to the events that lead to Love being abandoned, etc etc etc

First/Previous Chapter Here | Next Chapter

Captain John Price of the SAS, it seems, has decided to keep you.

As a child your neighbors had an Australian Cattle Dog.

He reminds you of that dog. Keyed in on your every move, herding you about as he sees fit throughout the day.

Gets irritated just like that dog used to, if he finds you somewhere he thinks you shouldn’t be.

Being alone with a man you do not know goes against everything you were taught growing up. You, however, are not exactly spoiled for choice where company is concerned and are in no position to bite the hand willing to feed you. Especially when the hand in question hasn’t done anything untoward.

John provides security and stability, even if he fusses at you incessantly.

“Need to be eating more than that.”

Objectively you know he’s correct, but there’s fuck all to be done about it.

“I can’t. I’ll throw up.”

You learn the nausea card will stay his hand, not that you’re even overplaying it. The child you’re carrying likes to alternate between sitting on your bladder and your stomach between bouts of playing soccer with your ribcage. Not exactly making it easy on you to get (or keep down) the food you need to grow a liver or a pair of lungs, or whatever it is that you’re cooking in the final stretch of your pregnancy.

For the most part he leaves you be about the food if he sees you picking at something over the duration of the day.

You circle each other cautiously; circumstance and loneliness making you unwilling to avoid him, but also still having the good sense to be aware you’re dealing with a stranger for less than a full day.

He’s brash, obviously used to getting his way. You don’t know a ton about the military and can only assume that it comes with the territory. He’s used to barking orders and commanding a space. You’re not exactly in a position to buck against his hand- and it’s not like you really want to, anyway.

He gives you first pick of the food, your cravings deciding your meal for you.

Cravings in an apocalypse blow, by the way. It’s not like you can get the tandoori chicken from your favorite Indian place at 2 am just because the mood strikes.

“I would kill for a jar of pepperoncinis,” you mumble, mostly to yourself one night as you pick at your dinner. God you could fuck a jar of them up with how your mouth is watering just at the thought of them.

In fact, had the world not gone to hell in a handbasket you’d probably be doing something cruel and inhumane to a pile of them. Like dipping them into nutella. Wasn’t one of the joys of pregnancy appeasing your cravings with absolutely abominable food combinations?

You’re not exactly in fight or flight at this exact moment, but you are in survival mode. No luxury of door dashing random items.

“How much longer do you think you’ve got?” The captain asks one night over dinner.

“I’m not sure. I think any day now at this point.”

You feel like you’re all belly, something that’s compounded by his follow up question of “Only got the one in there?” which is honestly fair.

“Yes. The midwife said he just has an Olympic sized swimming pool to float around in.”

“Midwife would be handy to have given your state.”

The question is buried between the lines. Why are you here and not with her?

“She’s dead.”

That’s what started this whole mess, isn’t it? It’s not your fault she’s dead but her absence was the catalyst of your group abandoning you.

He pauses his own meal, looking at you momentarily. “Sorry to hear that.”

You don’t know what to say in reply.

It feels disingenuous to pretend her death impacted you more than it actually did. While you two had spent more time together as your pregnancy progressed, the conversations had stayed staunchly about the baby and changes to your body.

You weren’t friends. But she was kind and compassionate and seemed knowledgeable about what was happening to you.

It does make you nervous, though. Women have had babies unassisted for millenium, but women have also died in childbirth since the dawn of time. Certain cultures regarded a successful birth in the same vein as warriors returning home from battle.

Since he asked- in a roundabout way- about your group, you feel bold enough to ask about his.

“How’d you get separated from your group?”

“Got caught with our trousers down by a herd wandering through this area. We were overwhelmed and I ended up going through a window. Did a number on my leg, that seems to finally be healing.”

Herds is such a funny way to describe a roaming group of the undead.

Herds usually contain deer, or horses, or sheep. Something soft and doe eyed that you can pet. Something that has teeth, yes, but typically not interested in hurting you.

Packs would be the better descriptor in your opinion- but then no one had asked you, had they?

“Do you think they’re still in the area?”

“Not if they’ve got any fucking sense,” he grouses. “There’s a group of survivors up north we’ve been taking care of. Safe zone so to speak- about as safe as anything can be, at least. Came down for supplies as the area looked clear, but the truck broke down. Herd came through and mucked everything up.”

The prospect of another community- a safe zone- enraptures you.

You’re not stupid, even if a lapse of judgment and a too long dry spell breaking has landed you in your current predicament. You understand that you’re a bit of a ticking time bomb.

You live in a world where safety is no longer a guarantee. That too much noise, and too much attention drawn can be a death sentence.

So having a baby is a far riskier move these days than it was in the past. There’s so much that can go wrong. You can’t tell a baby to be quiet because a herd is passing through and if any of them hear, then you’ve signed everyone’s death warrant.

And that’s if you and your child don’t die in labor.

So you were understandably devastated but yielded to the group consensus to leave you behind.

But a safe zone?

You’ve been floating around in limbo since parting from your group. Understanding that your death is written on the walls, but unwilling to lay down and die without trying.

You feel something akin to hope fluttering in your belly- that maybe you and your child will survive. That there’s not a blade waiting to descend on you when your water breaks.

“Can you take me there? Are you trying to go back?”

John regards you for a moment, and you try to not squirm in apprehension.

“Would be a whole lot easier if I had a working vehicle,” he states. “Between my leg and your,” he pauses, spearing a bite of his food and making a vague gesture at you as he chews, “current condition, walking that far isn’t a good idea.”

Right. Because you’re a ticking time bomb who might pop in the next hour, next week, or next day and there’s absolutely no way to know until it happens. Hence why you were trolling through a neighborhood looking for somewhere safe to bed down until you have your baby.

Talk about caught with your pants down if your water breaks trying to traverse a substantial distance. But then traveling with a newborn puts another target on your back, doesn’t it? How long until you’re comfortable with how fussy your baby is and you become confident you can read his cues? That’s a hell of a dice to roll.

“If I can find a working radio I can call my team. Or something I can drive.”

“I’m good with tech,” you volunteer. “Even if the radio doesn’t work- maybe I can make it work.”

You’ve always been someone who takes pride in your work, but working in tech in a post-collapse society has rendered your knowledge useless when traveling with a nomadic group just trying to make things work day by day.

So you’ve been feeling like a bit of a lame duck lately, even though you know logically that’s not being particularly fair to your circumstances. You’ve been forced to learn more pragmatic skills (at least, for the zombie apocalypse) but having to learn them on the fly with threats constantly looming over you doesn’t exactly provide a safe place to fail while you get over a learning curve.

Obviously close combat isn’t ideal in your situation. Guns draw too much attention with the noise. Maybe you can find a bow and practice with it.

So you jump at the opportunity to show that you might be able to pull your own weight. That you’re more than a fragile time bomb waiting for the counter to hit zero.

“I’ll keep that in mind if I find a broken one, then,” he appeases, although you can’t get enough of a read on him to know if he’s just placating you.

It’s a bit after dinner and the sun setting that John decides it’s time to herd you up to bed. “Right then, time to get you back upstairs.”

It’s only been two days now but it doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s got a thing about you and the stairs.

Someone like him is likely used to preparing for the worst case scenario in every situation. Lord knows what sort of horrors he’s thought up of you losing your balance going up or down, but he’d chewed on you pretty good earlier in the day when you’d tried to go up them without him to get something out of your bag.

Lesson learned- no traversing the stairs unattended.

Given that you are perpetually exhausted at this point, you can’t see the value in arguing that you don’t need your sleep schedule dictated to you. Left to your own devices you likely would have begun nodding off on the couch.

Even with your group, while there’d be assigned watch times, there wasn’t an enforced bedtime. Everyone’s adults- you were expected to handle your shit and be ready to move when it’s time to go.

So you nod along and let him guide you up.

John is magnanimous about the resources in the house, letting you be uncontested for the bathroom upstairs. You don’t understand how plumbing works but you can’t even bring yourself to complain about the cold water as you clean yourself.

There is a chair in “your” room, and the first night you placed it under the doorknob so that should John get any suspicious ideas, at least you’d be awake for your grizzy demise.

The doorknob never so much as turned, and you’ve been at his mercy long enough you decide if he was going to do anything unhinged, he’d have done it by now.

You are snuggled into your bed- which might as well be a luxurious thing with a 600 thread count for all you can care right now, even though it’s most assuredly not- and hear the sound of John’s door closing across the hall, and are out like a light before you can even process the noise and assume that he’s down for the count for tonight just like you are.

Come morning- after you’re finished in the bathroom and are greeted in the hall by John waiting for you- you realize that John was not squirreled away in his own room last night. He leads you down the stairs- insists on being between you and the bottom of the stairwell.

There’s a jar of pepperoncini peppers, a container of prenatal vitamins, and a pack of preggie pops which claims to be a pregnancy safe anti nausea candy.

The logical side of your brain should be floored that this veritable stranger has paid more attention to your needs (and yes you’re going to go ahead and count the pepperoncinis down as a need) in a day and a half than certain exes had during the entire run of your relationships with them.

A thank you would be appropriate given the situation.

Unfortunately, however, your hormone addled “I've been fending for myself after being abandoned, and I'm still emotionally fried” brain has been the one calling the shots lately, so instead what comes out is “You left me last night.”

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Try and stop me Part 1 - Shadowhunters.

Summary: You were adopted by the Lightwood a few years back and Robert hates how you’re different you are from the others. An argument takes place and you’ve decided enough is enough.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, bullying (idk what to call it), abuse (idk if you’d call it this?), shouting, angst, disowning a child.

Pairing: Lightwood family x Adopted!reader.

Word count: 1,376.

Note: Hopefully you’ll be able to tell from this that I ✨hate✨ Robert Lightwood.

We only gathered around the dinner table like this for family matters, especially at the institute. Isabelle sat beside me, talking animatedly about the training session she had just finished but I didn't hear much of it. The looks I'd been getting off our father had been unnerving, strange and inexplicable so I'd zoned out, overthinking it.

"It's nice to see everyone is actually here for once," Maryse took her seat, oddly family-orientated recently, at the head of the table beside Izzy and smiled at all of us. "We don't do this often enough." She was trying so hard to hold herself together for the past few weeks. Robert had been cheating on her and nobody knew. Maryse found out but hadn't told the others yet and I wasn't supposed to know but you hear things like arguments when you can't sleep at night. The whole family had noticed a difference in their dynamic but nobody commented, better to ignore these things and see if it all worked out in the end I guess.

We all dug in, always loving when Maryse came to see us and cooked her amazing meals. Izzy tried, bless her heart, but I'd rather eat mud than the food she conjured up and I know the others thought the exact same thing, it was fair to say she didn't have the same gift as Mom when it came to the kitchen. The conversation wasn't loud but it was a nice buzz in comparison to silence and I listened as Izzy and our mother spoke to each other. As soon as the table fell remotely quiet I was called on.

"Y/N, I noticed you've not been training as much as the others." Robert dabbed his lips with a napkin and I looked at him questioning look whilst swallowing my food. "You shouldn't be slacking off. Jace, Izzy and Alec are working so much harder than you."

"Can we not do this now?" Maryse seemed to almost beg him as she glared in his direction. My sibling's eyes zeroed in on me and Izzy tapped my leg under the table gently before looking pointedly at my fork. I placed it down from my trembling hands and sipped my water to clear my throat, I hated confrontation.

"I got a bit behind on the books is all so I'm giving myself a break from physical working to get some studying in, that's all but it won't be for long." I smiled unsurely "Just until I catch up."

"And why is it that you manage to fall behind when everyone else can stay ahead?" He raised an eyebrow. "You should be working just as hard and not being lazy and sitting around letting your studies get the better of you." My eyes flickered to our mother for a moment who looked apologetic and irritated.

"I've just been struggling a bit is all but it won't take me long to catch up, I promise." I bowed my head and shifted the food around my plate wishing I could just disappear into the tension-thick air.

"It's not good enough. You've had 4 years to catch up and it's getting beyond a joke. You need to be as good as the other three, what kind of a Shadowhunter will you be if you let this happen?" I pushed my chair out slightly with cold, shaking hands and bit back my tears of anger.

"Dad, don't you think you should cut her some slack?" Alec started, obviously uncomfortable.

"Don't involve yourself, Alexander." Now Jace looked furious. Nobody spoke to Alec like that when Jace was around not even Robert.

"I'm sorry that I've hit a bit of a slump but I'm working on it," I spoke through gritted teeth. "I know I'm not as good as them and I'm trying so just give me some time and space and hopefully I can get up to the standards you want." My voice was cold and harsh but I didn't care anymore. How dare he. I didn't need reminding that I wasn't a Lightwood or that I hadn't been with them as long as Jace. "Thank you for dinner Mom, I'm going to head off to bed." I stood from the table, not looking at anyone as I turned around.

"You aren't going anywhere Y/N!" Robert's voice thundered through the room and I stopped dead. "When will you finally sort yourself out? We won't baby you anymore! I expect better of you and if you don't sort this out then you won't be a Lightwood anymore, not that you've ever been much of one anyway." My breath hitched, and that stung more than anything ever had. My chest rose and fell as though I had run miles as I clenched my fists.

"Enough! That's too far!" Izzy stood up, arms braced on the table as her chair fell backwards.

"No, what's enough is Y/N taking advantage of the home and life we gave her despite who her parents were. We didn't have to take her in and I'm beginning to wish we hadn't!" This time Maryse yelled at him but I couldn't make out a word as my blood rushed through my ears, anger drowning out everything else. I was slightly aware of Isabelle's hand on my arm but my body wouldn't respond. I turned to face him slowly with a wicked grin on my face as my eyes met his.

"Finally." My voice was scarily calm. "You finally admitted it. After 4 years of thinking about it, you finally gathered up the courage to say it huh? Heaven forbid your wife has a kinder heart and takes in a child who needs her. By the angel, what a crime!" By this point, I was shouting. "I'm sorry that I'm not good enough for you and that I'm very clearly a disappointment but hey, guess you won't have to deal with that anymore if I'm not a Lightwood. I have tried my damn best for the past 4 years, harder than I have ever tried to do anything. All to get you to notice, to impress you, to make you proud so that I don't get overlooked by you anymore but no! Still not good enough!" My voice wobbled and I hated that tears of anger now stained my face. "I know I'm not as good as them and I didn't mind that but I still tried for you. Not for Mom, not for my siblings or the institute but for you because you just looked straight through me like I wasn't there. You always have and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of trying to make you happy and I'm sick of keeping it all to myself, I know more than you think I do and my mind is definitely stronger than you realise." My teeth bared in pure rage as I glared holes into him. "I've had enough. I'm done! I'm done trying to make you happy so you have your way."

I spun on my heel and stormed out of the room, pushing past the other Shadowhunters who seemed to have heard the commotion and making my way to the door. I grabbed a spare stele from one of the weapons racks, sliding it into my pocket and beelining for the doors. I ignored Clary's yells of concern as she followed after me and the voices of my siblings and Mom asking me to stay.

"Don't you dare walk away Y/N! If you walk out that door then you're done, You won't be welcome here anymore!" I stopped, my hands resting on the wooden doors. "I mean it! You leave and I don't want to see your face again!" I looked back at my Mom who was sobbing as Jace held her. I had never seen her so vulnerable, especially not in front of the whole institute.

"I love you, Mom, You guys know where to find me." I smiled at my Mom and siblings softly before looking at Robert. "As for you, try and stop me from coming home, I dare you." With that I threw open the doors and stormed out, leaving the shouting of Maryse behind as I held in my sobs.

[cookiesupplier]

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part Eleven

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie), 

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut (eventually), angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, minor violence and swearing.

summary: Ellie was lost in the world, homeless with no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: Unbetaed, readers beware.. if you want to chat with me about ideas/theories for this story I'm open to it, my asks are always open as well.

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @bngurngheart @cncohshit @valiantroeagleangel @blackveilomens @dominuslunae @tearfallpixie @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 

Tags are open feel free to ask.

“When I’m done with you, all of Hell will know exactly who you belong to.”

Noah’s words rattle around in her head and she couldn’t get them out. Not that she’d gotten a moment to respond to him after he’d said them, he’d smirked, and teleported away, the coward, or the genius really considered she’d been prepared to slap him, or at least attempt worse, for the audacity of claiming to suggest that she belonged to him! If you thought about it, they’d met less than a day ago.

The nerve.

After Folio stopped laughing, which she didn’t appreciate at all thank you very much. He suggested they order something for lunch, that eating might make her feel better.

She hated that he had been right.

It also made her feel better when Folio helped her flick through a catalogue to find a bat to order so the next time Noah just showed up she’d have something to use on him when he got fresh. It was nice to have a bit of a partner in crime of sorts. Folio was starting to feel like that hyperactive little brother she’d never had, even if he wasn’t remotely younger than her she’d learned, he’d been about her age even before he died. He’d passed quite a few years ago, he wasn't sure on an exact number thanks to his time in punishment, but it was years.

It was probably selfish of her, but she was glad he didn’t want to reincarnate yet. The thought of losing him while she was here she didn’t think it would be the same. She might have only been here for days, and already the boys had made a mark on her that she didn’t want to lose. Of course, Noah’s mark, that was something else, and she didn’t know what to do with him.

Smiling over to Folio after she ordered her brand new baseball bat, a metal one at that. Next time a soul, or Noah, got fresh with her, she’d be ready to deal with them. 

By the time she was ready to go home in the afternoon, and they were handing over to the later shift, Folio asked if she was up for a night out again, and Ellie had laughed. Oh no, she was going home tonight, after doing a proper grocery shop, maybe cooking dinner for herself, real food.. She hadn’t made dinner for herself in so long. Smiling at the thought.. Folio had just shrugged, smiled, with a suit yourself, saluted her with his cheeky grin and was out the door.

Jolly however asked if she wanted company to show her where the best shops were, it was so simple a question, but thoughtful that he was looking out for her. She accepted immediately. He’d walked with her to the shops, and they’d just chatted about the day, and the night before, how she was feeling about settling in. How she was looking forward to actually getting to make her own food. He’d chuckled at that, saying he never cooked, considering he didn’t pay for anything, why would he take the time to cook.

Rolling her eyes, she’d just grinned and after they were done shopping for food, dragged him back to her apartment to make him dinner. To thank him for helping her, he was getting a home cooked meal.

She was in the kitchen, chopping up different vegetables with Jolly sitting on the island counter top drinking a beer while she did.

“So, I learned this recipe trick from volunteering at a soup kitchen. Before, everything went to shit. It was a great way to get as much nutrients in the food as possible, quick, easy, and I could add all kinds of vegetables in the mix. The best part, if your sneaky enough, someone like Folio, can barely tell.”

She was making Spaghetti Bolognese,

“All he’d taste is the meat and tomatoes, and it’d be all pasta cheesy goodness for him and think it’s all kinds of wonderful. Least in my opinion. Watch me make enough to heat up for lunch tomorrow, and he’ll never know just how much healthier it is, mister we can’t be friends if I’m a health nut.”

Grinning over to Jolly with that, and the man just chuckled as he swallowed a mouthful of his beer,

“Alright, you’re on.”

She was sure she’d win that one, and even if she didn’t, Folio would enjoy a nice home cooked meal just the same, she was sure of it. Sure it would be with a touch of complaining if he caught her out. She could handle a little bit of complaining just fine. Really though, she hoped that he liked it, the boys had been so nice to her, she wanted to do something nice for them, and this was something she could do. It didn’t feel like much, especially when they could just pick up the phone and order delivery food from down the road for free, but it was something.

Sighing as she chopped up the vegetables, she felt Jolly watching her carefully, looking up from the knife, pausing so she didn’t so something stupid like chop off one of her fingers or something, she caught him,

“What?”

Jolly just looked at her with a raised eyebrow for a moment not saying anything,

“What, you want to say something, it’s all over your face, what?”

The smile that crossed his face then was telling, she was right.

“So now you can read minds now too?”

That thought made her chuckle, hell had an effect it would have her seem.

“No, I can’t tell what your thinking, just that you want to say something, go on, say it Jolly. You've got your serious face on, I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

As she spoke, she went back to her vegetable chopping, ready to listen to what he had to say, hoping that she really could take what he was about to send her way. So far over the last few days, Hell had thrown quite a few curve balls at her, and it would be nice for something not to come at her like a wrecking ball tonight.

“What exactly happened last night, between you and Noah? That you remember anyway, aside from the teasing.”

She sighed, that much was obvious she guessed. She didn’t know if Jolly was looking out for her, or Noah, but at least she wasn’t getting a lecture for being stupid about it today, or Folio making fun of her with all his laughter this morning.

“He walked me home, we were talking, I’ve remembered more through the day. We were talking about what makes him different as a demon to a human, and how he looks as a demon, and he said something.. And I.. reacted.”

She didn’t look up from her actions as she was adding the chopped vegetables to her pot as she continued. Her cheeks flushed so warm, rosy red as she thought about what happened next during the night before.

“If I remember correctly, I ah, he’s right, I pretty much stripped, tried to seduce him, and now he apparently thinks I belong to him.”

Rolling her eyes,

“Possessive bastard.”

Too bad that was actually rather hot to think about. Still at the same time, she’d been down that road before, and didn’t she want to go down that one again. Her college boyfriend had not ended very well. She’d thought she was in love with him, they’d been together for over two years before she realised that everything she thought she knew about their relationship was a lie. He’d been possessive, controlling, and she’d convinced herself at the time that it was because he loved her, but it was all lies in the end, and it was just…

“He can be a bit much sometimes, but he means well.”

Her eyes flickered up to Jolly when he said that. He means well. Now where had she heard that before? Her hand stilled with her knife as she just looked at Jolly, hmm, well, oh, everywhere.

“Noah isn’t just Nicholas’ best friend, they’re practically brother’s. I know you think he is an arrogant arsehole, and sometimes he can be, but other times it can be a product of his age. I don’t know for certain how old he is, but I have narrowed it down that they are both at least a few centuries old.”

Smirking a little,

“He can be beyond frustrating, but at the same time, so many lower demons flocking towards him constantly because of his position, puts so much pressure on him. Noah has worked so hard for where he is, but I don’t think he expected never to have a moment of peace.”

While she supposed that Nicholas was old, and a lord too, he worked a lot in the human world, and with souls, and, maybe other demons wouldn’t see that the same way they would see what Noah did. That was actually kind of offensive, assholes. Making sure souls transitioned, good or bad, was just as important as punishing those that deserved it as far as she was concerned. Then again, she was someone on the outside looking in, she wasn’t a denizen of Hell that had been around here for hundreds of years, and never would be. To her, to judge someone just on their job, was rather offensive.

It would be suggesting the bartender last night was more important than the girl that made her coffee yesterday morning, which was horrible. She called bullshit on that one. Living on the street had taught her that everyone was valuable, and anyone that thought otherwise, they were the people that had less of a value in the world.

The same could be said for hell it would seem.

“Let me guess, this is all a round about way of you telling me I should at least give Noah a chance?”

Raising an eyebrow as she started stirring the pot of Bolognese sauce, now that the water on the stove was boiling however, she added the spaghetti pasta to the pot and let the pasta cook.

“Just a chance, Sweetheart. Besides, from what I can tell, the only thing he did wrong last night is bruise your ego.”

Smirking a little at slight glare she sent his way in return.

“If I tell you I hate your cooking, are you going to turn on me next?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, chuckling slightly,

“Okay okay, point taken, but Noah doesn’t have to be an ass about it.”

Taking in a breath as she stirred the pot of sauce, she would give Noah a chance. She knew what she was going to do.

Once they had finished dinner Jolly had headed home, and she had made plenty, enough that she packed up some containers to take for lunch the next day for them. Hey, she had a point to make now to Jolly, but either way, she was sure it would go well with Folio.

Looking down to the phone that she’d found left in the apartment, in it were a couple of numbers, and a message from Nicholas, one of the numbers belongs to none other than Noah.

She opened a new text thread and then paused. Staring at the blinking cursor on her screen on her phone for a long moment, considering what she should say, wondering, if she had his number, did he have hers? If she waited, would he call her? Did she want to wait? Did she want to let him control this?

No. She didn’t want to let him control this, she didn’t want to let him have control over the situation when he so obviously thought he had so much control over her in other ways. Claiming that she belonged to him and all. No. In this, she wanted to have at least a little bit of control, and if it was it was only in that she was the one that said something first, then it was at least it was a touch of control. She’d take that much. Smiling to herself she tapped out a message on her phone to him.

Ellie: Noah, are you free tomorrow night? Ellie: This is Ellie btw Noah: I don’t know BabyGirl, am I free? Ellie: I’m trying to ask you out don’t be a smartass. Ellie: Only I don’t know what’s good to do here. Noah: I’ll take care of that, and yes, I’m free. Noah: Pick you up at six.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[syilcawrites]

pumpkins and spices

s. Link and Zelda have been staying in Kakariko for a few days and crave a pumpkin-filled meal. After buying a pumpkin from Olkin and heading to High Produce Spirits for some spice, they run into the store owner’s husband—Steen—Olkin’s produce rival! In a desperate attempt to hide the pumpkin they bought, Zelda stuffs the small pumpkin under her shirt… causing a grave misunderstanding. a/n: here's a ch 2!! I hope you all enjoy!

Ch 1 || ao3 (or u can read here on tmblr!)

Zelda can’t help but gaze at the creation in her hands in awe — it’s as smooth as ice, cut perfectly like a diamond. She had commissioned a glass pumpkin from Pruce’s glass blower friend — an exact replica of the pumpkin that brought her nothing but sheer embarrassment and horror just a week ago. For its size, she’s surprised by how light it feels. “It’s perfect, Pruce! It looks exactly like it!”

“Heh, my good ol’ friend delivers nothing short of perfection,” Pruce says with a proud smile. “He’s the best you’ll find in these parts, so don’t try lookin’ elsewhere!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Zelda says, laughing lightly. She happily wraps up the gift back into the plain white cloth it came in. She knows Link will be absolutely thrilled to receive it since he’s been glum the entire week ever since they cut up the pumpkin a few days ago for dinner.  Now he can have an exact replica of the very pumpkin forever. He had pleaded and begged Zelda not to use it because it was (his words) their child and how could she?? What a monster she was for even thinking about eating the pumpkin after all they’ve been through!

“Link, it’s going to get rotten. It’s not going to stay cute and plump like this forever.”

“And so you would strip it of its remaining days just like that??”

The look of despair on his face as she tossed the diced up pumpkin into the cook pot without batting an eye is something she’ll never forget, and just the mere thought of it makes laughter bubble up in her chest.

Zelda says her thanks to Pruce once again before leaving East Wind. As she takes a step outside, she lets out a low whistle of surprise — It’s pouring. It was sunny when she left just half an hour ago. She glances down at the wrapped up bundle, contemplating. It should be fine if it got wet, but she really doesn’t want to risk it… besides, bringing in a soppy wet ball into the house would be quite annoying for the both of them. 

It’s a good thing she brought her cape at least; it’ll leave the rest of her clothes dry. Zelda secures it over her shoulders, pulling her hood up. And, without much thought, she tucks the glass pumpkin under her shirt-

She pauses, hesitant. The last time she did this she created a massive disaster of a misunderstanding but… This is Hateno. It’s fine! She’ll be fine. Besides, since it’s pouring, most people would have sought shelter indoors, anyway.

Zelda tucks it snug under her shirt and braves the pouring rain — It pounds against the earthen roads and vibrant green grass, the strength of it leaves the space around her misty, making it hard to see much of what’s in front of her.

She makes it back to the house without much of a hitch, relieved to be out of the wet outdoors. She can’t wait to see the look on his face. Zelda swings the door open-

“-ould hide it from me?? That’s quite bold!”

Zelda shakes her head to get the small strands of her hair clinging to her cheeks off, confused that she’s hearing Impa’s voice in Hateno. She still has one hand propping the door open and the other hand tucked under the glass pumpkin hidden beneath her shirt as she processes what she’s seeing in front of her: a stiff-as-a-board Link and a looming Impa sitting at their table. It looks as if Impa is interrogating him. Despite her short stature, her piercing gaze can make anyone feel small on the spot. And… there’s a whole escort team of Sheikah guards lined up behind her, standing at attention.

Before Zelda can open her mouth, move, or let alone breathe, Impa beats her to it all. She bolts straight up from her seat, causing it to topple over. Her mouth is agape and she’s gasping as if she’s seeing Hylia in the flesh, but she’s not looking Zelda in the face, she’s looking at her stomach. “So the rumors are true!”

Link whips his head over to Zelda, eyes wide in alarm, but not even he can get a word in either.

“Oh I have been waiting for this for over a hundred years!” she hoots, clapping delightedly. “I’m sure you’re glad, Princess Zelda!”

Heat flares to her cheeks. Oh dear Hylia do not tell me she’s going to…! “Impa, wait-”

“Remember all those nights you spent sleepless because you were distraught over your feelings for him??”

“Now hold on a moment-” Zelda squeaks as the color drains from her face, her eyes darting from Link to Impa in a flurry of panic. Oh no no no no-

“‘Oh I wish I could tell him how I feel~’” Impa mimics Zelda’s voice in a light and airy tone, dramatically placing the back of her hand on her forehead, feigning lightheadedness. “Now look at that, a century later and you’re having a child together! And I’ve heard you’re five months along!” she cackles, placing her hands over her stomach as her laughter doesn’t let up for the slightest moment. “Now I suppose all those late nights mourning over your so-called ‘unrequited love’ has paid off in the end-”

Zelda stomps her way over to her and slams her free hand on the table.

Link flinches. Impa flinches.

Even the Sheikah guards, who were as still as statues, flinch.

Without a word, Zelda pulls the wrapped glass pumpkin from under her shirt and carefully, delicately, places it on the table. Then, she lifts her shirt to expose her stomach and jabs at it. She opens her mouth and hisses: “I. Am. Not. Pregnant. Do I look five months pregnant to you??” Zelda pulls her shirt down with an unnecessary amount of force as she glares at Impa, slamming her hands on the table again as she leans over to her. “And how dare you say that! You promised me that you wouldn’t tell anyone about that ever!! You promised to take it to your grave!! Even if we were together — which we are not by the way — I wouldn’t want him to know about any of that ever!”

Zelda’s chest heaves up and down and she just cannot believe it!

“Who… you were the one that told me to never believe a word Trissa says! So why would you-” she squeaks as she sinks to the ground, placing her forehead against the table. This is too much — everyone is just too much! “Get out,” she seethes.

When no one moves or says anything, Zelda bolts upright, her arms stiff at her side. She glares at Impa. She glares at Link. She glares at the bundle of Sheikah guards who avert their gaze away the moment she shoots a deathly stare at them. “Well? I said get out! All of you!”

“Um, Zelda,” Link says quietly, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

“You-” Her voice gets caught in her throat. He knows. He knows! About her feelings and how she acted back then and… and now he’s looking at her with an unreadable expression and she just can’t. ��-Definitely. You definitely have to get out!” Zelda grabs his arm and hauls him up, dragging him to the front door. She opens it and pushes him out, refusing to even look at him. She whips around. “All of you- out. Now!”

And finally, they move. The Sheikah guards scramble to assist Impa who hurriedly walks out of the house with a grimace.

The door clicks shut.

The house is quiet, and all Zelda can hear is the soft pit-pat of the rain and the blood rushing in her ears.

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

“I told you she wasn’t pregnant,” Link mutters, after 10 minutes of sitting outside with the Sheikah chief in silence. He’s lying down on his back with his arms tucked under his head and a piece of hay straw hanging between his lips, deep in thought. Impa had shooed away the guards back to the carriage before they decided to seek refuge in the horse shed. At least the hay was warm and dry. Impa doesn’t seem fond of sitting in it though because she’s constantly muttering about how itchy it’s making her feel.

“Yeah yeah.” Her tone implies indifference, but he can tell that she does feel a smidge guilty with the way she sighs after. “Well, now that it’s out of the bag, were you truly unaware of her feelings toward you?”

“Uh…” He coughs and spits out the hay straw — he almost swallowed it in surprise. An inkling of him clung onto the fact that maybe, just maybe, she did. But- he can’t think like that. Or at least, couldn’t, because if she didn’t feel the same way then… well.

It’d probably break his heart beyond comprehension.

And he didn’t want his heart broken.

“Well? Speak up, boy.”

“I didn’t let it cross my mind.” He sighs loudly, flopping over to his side in a huff. “I didn’t want to bother her with something like that.”

“Anyone a mile away could see she was head over heels for you, you knucklehead.”

“Well excuse me…” Link mutters as he rolls his eyes and shoots Impa a glare. How was he supposed to know someone like her would like someone like him?? She’s all goddess and beauty and ethereal who kept the world from succumbing to total destruction and he’s… just some guy with a sword that had slept for a 100 years.

He loves making her laugh and smile and he wants to keep it that way and he just doesn’t know if he can make her happy if they ever get… together.

Because, as Impa said: he’s a knucklehead.

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

This is salvageable, Zelda thinks brightly to herself as she paces around the house: up the stairs, around the loft, down the stairs, cleans the dishes, sweeps the floors, rearranges the books on the shelves-

They’re adults! They can have a proper conversation about this over some tea and cookies, maybe have a good laugh over bygone emotions because it’s been over a century so surely it’s been long enough for her to… to have rid of these emotions, right?

Time heals. Time always heals. And this is no different — Sure, it’ll be a bit weird at first, but as she stated earlier, they’re both adults. There’s nothing to worry about, she chides, nodding to herself encouragingly as she dusts off the last book. She’ll give a proper send off to Impa after handing her some hateno-fermented cheese, give Link the glass pumpkin as planned, and they’ll finish the rest of the pumpkin stew for dinner tonight.

“Zelda?”

She jumps in her spot, almost toppling over a few books she had just dusted. She searches for the source of the voice and… there he is — the window from the upper floor. He seems a bit nervous with the way his eyes flit to and fro, as if he’s ready to duck out at any moment. As they make eye contact, he gives a friendly wave with a half-tilted smile.

It makes her stomach drop, makes her heart do flips and flutters and-

Stop that, she thinks to herself irritably, biting her inner cheek. “Yes, Link?”

“...How are you doing?”

A beat passes as Zelda contemplates her answer.

“Quite alright. I was just about to call the two of you actually. Is Impa… would she like to stay for dinner?” she asks politely, casting her gaze elsewhere.

“She left a little ago, said she had some things to do back in Kakariko Village.”

Zelda’s heart sank as guilt nibbled at her.

“Don’t worry,” Link mentions, as if reading her mind, “I gave the cheese to her when she first came.”

Zelda perks up at the news, giving a relieved smile. “That’s good, I was worried she came all this way just to go back empty handed…”

Suddenly, Link climbs through the window, his movements and steps as quiet as a mouse. It’s always a wonder how he can always be so silent. “Er, sorry can I come in?”

Zelda scoffs. “You don’t have to ask for permission, this is your house after all.”

He leans over the railing of the loft area, resting against his arms. “Our house,” he says quietly, with a sort of fondness and confidence that makes her cheeks warm. 

Zelda smiles with a raised eyebrow, a bit confused and unsure about how to take it with the way he said it. She decides to brush it off, as she usually does, when he does… that. Those quiet, soft moments. Small glances, lingering touches, when he says something that steps over the line of just-a-friend. Well, it was always like this with him, even before the Calamity, so she’s trained in the arts of not thinking too hard about it.

It’s funny that that hasn’t changed, especially since he had lost his memories.

“Well, the surprise is ruined.” Zelda nudges her head over to the glass pumpkin on the dining table.

He jumps off of the railing and takes it into his hands — His eyes sparkle up as he switches his attention to Zelda with child-like awe. “Pumpkarella??”

“His name is Oliver! We agreed on Oliver!” They argued the entire way back from Kakariko about what the name of the pumpkin should be and Link relented every time, but always managed to still find ways to argue about it.

Link squints his eyes as he holds up the glass pumpkin in observation. “She seems more like a Pumpkarella to me…”

“That’s not even a real name!”

“All names are made up aren’t they?”

Zelda rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. “Oliver Pumpkarella Hyrule. That’s the best I can do for you.”

Link taps his finger on his chin with dramatically scrunched brows, feigning deep thought. “Sounds like a name fit for a royal, so deal.”

Relief spreads across Zelda like a gentle, cool breeze. Their banter is back, things feel normal. So maybe… she doesn’t have to bring it up! Maybe they can continue on like normal as they always have — Goddess princess and sworn knight. Best of friends. “I suppose the name you choose for our next child can be the first name,” she says lightly with a light-hearted laugh. She doesn’t hear him laugh along with her, like he usually does. Zelda peeks over at him, and sees that he’s…

Red. Tomato red. Hylian tomato red. Maybe even blood moon red.

Zelda wracks her brain, backtracks, what did I say??

Child. She said child.

Our next child!!

Zelda is on the cusp of joining the Yiga to resummon Calamity Ganon so that he can end her bloodline right then and there-

“Zelda, I…” he begins, hesitating, all traces of jovial banter gone from his voice and the only thing Zelda can think is oh Hylia, end me.

“Fine!” Her hands tighten to fists at her side as she stares hard at her feet, her face scrunched up in utter frustration. If he’s going to reject her and tell her that he doesn’t feel the same, she’d rather give a proper confession first, because it’s been years! Too many years to count! And it’s been eating her alive — every minute, every second — and now she can finally say it. “Yes, I was in love with you!” She bites the inside of her cheek, hoping the pain from it can mask the horror that will overcome her for saying the next thing. “And even now I-I’m still in love with you and it’s-”

The words remain stuck in her throat as tears well up in her eyes because it’s killing her knowing she’s throwing everything they’ve ever been down the drain because she just can’t seem to get over her unreciprocated feelings. And she’ll have to live every day after this knowing that he doesn’t feel the same about her and everything he’s done until now was out of duty that she desperately hoped was out of affection.

Her next words come out fragile and wilted, despairing: “I’m sorry-”

Her head is pulled up by her chin, too fast for her brain to process as her view changes from her bare feet against faded hardwood to endless blue eyes — She can see herself, too much of herself, and then she’s drowning as he smashes his lips against hers and takes the air away from her lungs.

Her head spins and she stumbles back, taking him with her as her hands automatically find their way to his neck before tangling up into his hair. Her back hits the bookshelf she oh so carefully dusted earlier — several books tumble off the shelf, thudding against the floor. For a brief moment she thinks oh, we’ll have to clean that up later, but her thoughts are swiftly taken away from her once more when his hand moves from the dip of her waist to the curve of her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, and she’s reminded of the heat pressed against her body; the overwhelming smell of him, in which she’s only used to in faint passing. All birch and smoke like a comforting campfire.

And just as quick as it happened, it ends.

Zelda's breaths come in shallow and fast; she finds herself leaning toward him as he pulls back, with eyes locked on his parted lips, inexplicably hungry for more.

Mine.

She kisses him again and again, drinking and savoring every shared breath as if she hasn’t had a drop of water in days.

“I adore you,” he somehow manages to say against her lips, in between brief moments of respite, as she feels him smile. His voice is quiet, like she’s slowly drifting into a dream as she’s falling asleep. He gazes at her through his half-lidded eyes as if she’s the sun, moon, and stars. “I love you and that has never changed. Even before the moment I heard your voice, I knew I was in love with you. It’ll always be you, it always has been.”

Tears prick the corner of her eyes—she fights them off, unwilling to become a babbling mess in front of him.

“And,” he says, leaning back to finally get a good look at her flushed face. His slight smile widens to a goofy grin. “I would love to have another kid with you.”

Zelda’s incoming tears break into laughter instead. She leans full into his arms as she nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck, tightening her arms around him as she melts into his warmth. “I suppose it’s only fair if you get to choose the next one.”

He hums, and she can feel the purr of it on her cheek. “How about Spindelina?”

Appalled, Zelda pulls back, but she doesn’t get too far since his arms are wrapped snug and tight around her waist. “You are terrible at choosing names, you know that?”

“Hey, I know you love them.”She tilts her head down with a lopsided smirk. “Well, I love you, so I guess so, hm?”

[system-of-a-feather]

Dude yesterday was mean and I'm gonna vent for my maybe IFS maybe fused-blurred unidentified little that is genuinely okay now but pouty that yesterday was mean >:[

Cause not only did youtube randomly terminate my music account that I was actually paying for rather than pirating for the past like 6-8 months cause we moved from spotify cause spotify sucked and didnt have our music >:[ Like we really did nothign with that account except music specifically to keep the algorithm suggesting and finding music we liked and not being confused by anything else so we literally didnt do anything >:[

And like we're autistic so on that level alone music is important and necessary for self regulation when we get sensory overload (which can be pretty frequent) but we ALSO had a lot of "little T" trauma around Apple deleting our music without warning and without us knowing when we went to school in middle/high school which - at the time also served as a trauma grounding / dissociation-giving / safe space and we'd have full meltdowns and panic attacks over our music randomly disappearing so it WASNT FUN to have this happen when we've been being good because it brought up unhappy feelings >:[ And I know things happen and it doesn't always have a reason but it still sucks cause we absolutely did nothing wrong >:[

But ALSO our parents were planning on having early Turkey Day (fuck thanksgiving; we use this day to honor the sacrifice and service that poultry will do to supporting mankind as growing food demand increases) and it was all good and everything, we were planning our meals to align to make us pleasantly hungry at the time that we were supposed to eat but our mom's oven for NO reason just stopped working on the exact day she would actually use it and so there was an hour or so of trying to figure out what to do but by the time we were anywhere close to them figuring out a plan it was almost the time we planned to eat and so we were hungry and without food and already lately having OCD flare ups so we were being easily set off my body contamination stuff that walks the line of ED territory and had already been snacking and >:[

We couldn't eat more otherwise we'd be haunted by OCD intrusive thoughts about body contamination at dinner, but we were also starving and we have food-insecurity trauma so waiting while hungry would make us dysregulated too and it just SUCKED but we called the shot like an adult and asked if we could postpone it a day so we could eat and not be grumpy and have the day stink and we did so we ate and its all good and fine but >:[

Yesterday sucked >:[ We managed and we didn't have a breakdown but it REALLY wasn't a nice day and we had to use all of our brain's coping skills to keep it an okay day >:[

But you know, youtube gave us our account back quickly and I'm still mad at them so I'm pouty-child-like refusing to reinstate my subscription until I Get Over it, but its back and thats good and Loki Season 2's second half soundtrack was released which is GOOD GOOD GOOD so >:[

Im angy but >:[ Im genuinely alright Im just angy >:[

[the-atlas-sys]

Thinking of how I'd explain myself to a therapist right now without sounding strange! Yes, I'm a guy based on a camp counselor from a web series that was popular 8 years ago and has a very small handful of fans. Yes, I am almost the exact opposite of our host, positive, physically active, hates alcohol. No, our parents can't tell that we're disordered, even when our child alter fronts and speaks in short phrases, watches shows we haven't watched in over a decade, and eats ice cream for dinner instead of the meals I usually make for us!

I'm just here, I'm a guy based on a super old fixation of ours that takes care of this body the same way you'd take care of a car that your friend let you borrow. I keep it clean, taken care of, and make sure we dont get into any danger, and that's okay! But would a therapist understand this? Would they assume I'm lying despite my full confidence in who I am? What if I tried to bring up the fact that some of my source is still kinda traumatic for me, but not the host or anyone else here (save for Jasper)?

Would they believe me? Think I'm a bit off my rocker? Assume this to be some type of psycosis despite me having my own name and identity entirely? And the fact that I am in no way harmful to our system, having only helped us be a healthier person and got us our job?

[rainbowmoodring]

27. 17. 7.

27.17. 7. The differences in between. Like the way I dream. Between the world and me. The world then and now, Me then and now, And the relationship between the two of us over time

At 7, I lost my Opa, My mom's dad, The first of my grandparents To go. I remember not feeling Like I was missing him Or sad /enough/. At 17, My Oma had also gone. At 27, I only have one grandparent left, My dad's dad, At 99 years old. I miss the others. Now I know that we all grieve Differently. His lonely death Looms While he remains in decent health.

At 7, I didn't know who I was. A child, mostly shy, Who liked Dress up And art And writing And animals And not having My picture taken, please. Without words to express Feelings I couldn't Explain in the first place. At 17, I knew more of who I was. A teenager, mostly, A freshman in college, Still not sure what I wanted To do, Major undeclared. But I knew I was trans then, Started my physical transition then. Life was full of many new Beginnings. At 27, I know more still of who I am. My preferences. My boundaries. What I am willing to put up with, And what I am not. How comfortable I feel in my body, And how it had taken this long To be so, even if it's not completely Comfortable. My direction is still unclear But as long as I am moving Forward That's okay.

At 7, I had already been to therapy For my parents' divorce, And it went poorly. I threw a crayon at the therapist Who kept making me Try to talk. At 17, I had seen two different types Of therapists in high school, One vastly unhelpful, And one more helpful Than she might know. Someone who started me on my Journey Of becoming my true self. At 27, I am actively seeing a therapist Who is wonderful, And we are tackling many issues That span the years. My therapist in college was Wonderful, too, And he got me through the brunt Of the crushing weight of school And transitioning And a relationship Etc All at once. I am grateful for the work they do And the kindness, Compassion, I am shown every time.

At 7, I nearly lost a finger In a boating accident, And it had to be sewn back on While I was screaming. The physical therapy lasted A few months, And my handwriting suffered For a while. At 17, I'd had my wisdom teeth removed, The pain of them coming in While I played trombone, Enough to induce a daily Headache, jawache. I got a chest x-ray to find out I have Costochondritis, And allergies. It was cold in there. At 27, The bone in my jaws keep Pushing out in spots On my gums, From the pressure of Clenching my teeth at night, Despite my mouthguard. I am conscious Of genetic risk factors, Of changes my body Might acquire As I continue to age. How I may lose My hair, Or develop a Worse stomach. I am softer than I've ever been, I think.

At 7, I was a terribly picky eater. I would rather skip a meal Than eat something I hated. I didn't know I could ask To prepare it a different way, To make sweet potatoes Savory, To mix the peas into something Else, Anything else. I really liked eating Salty butter And helping in the kitchen. At 17, I was growing out of eating The exact same thing Every day for lunch, With the plentiful food options Available across campus. Trying new things, But also skipping meals Too often. I became skilled at Eating quickly Between classes. I didn't make much. At 27, I happily enjoy a wide variety Of foods, but now my Stomach Has limits I adhere to. I've eaten triple-digit meals And peanut butter for dinner, And everything in between, Learning from my family Of chef, cooks, bakers, and The opportunists (like me). Cooking is social and I make A great assistant, Just not for myself. Food is love, and comfort, And survival, and art, And sacrifice.

At 7, I already had crushes on Boys my age. I didn't have a relationship to Base one off of, With split parents, So I was both shy And quietly obsessive Over minute interactions. At 17, I had dated a little here and there, A real mess in high school While trying to figure out The labels that fit. I told myself that, Upon starting my physical Transition, I wouldn't date anyone So they wouldn't be subjected To the burden of it. (Reading trans stories of tragedy Had not helped This train of thought.) But I fell into deep crushes Anyway, Knowing nothing would Come from them. Harmless. (I thought.) At 27, I actively have a partner. I dated once in college, Almost dated two others, All different types of queer. I have come to learn More about my preferences, Boundaries, Expectations, Changes in bodies, And differences in bodies. In being accepting of other bodies, I am forcing myself to be more Accepting of my own, To be more vulnerable and Trust more. And it is difficult, Yes. But to now have someone That I can Be open and vulnerable with, To learn with him, And also Not push myself more than necessary To be something I'm not. Even if things change, Which things tend to do. Many things are new, And I am soaking up different ways to Love And show love And be loved, And be okay asking for love. And we are doing our best For ourselves and each other. I'm happier than I've ever been Even though he's a country away. Let's look to 37.

At 7, Or 8, perhaps, I wanted to write, and Dig up dinosaur bones. Lost in books and ancient History, More compelling than Many people. Books could only give me a papercut, And bones just gave me Dirty hands and fingernails. But people could hurt me. At 17, The age of choosing your life path, Direction forward, I had already considered dozens Of paths ahead, Since college and a career Were expected. Specifically moreso from school, Since family was more understanding, And nurtured our passions as they Changed. Chef, animator, biologist, writer (still), Artist, actor (stage, screen, voice), etc … So not knowing what direction I really wanted, Jealous of my peers who knew, I chose a school For the music, And worked at a restaurant During summer breaks. At 27, My ideas have changed still, Through college and after. A bookmaker, a paper maker, a teacher, a therapist, a writer (still), an entrepreneur… And with the jobs I've had in Food service, Floristry, Customer Service, I still don't know Exactly what I want. My position in property tax Surprised everyone, And I am content and learning daily, More financially secure than ever. I have a small online shop and have made many works of art that people Love. And I still (still) write. So while I may not have a clear Direction, I am not aimless. I am always learning, And teaching, And creating, And practicing kindness Whenever possible. So regardless of title, I am doing just fine As long as that remains.

As life spans the decades, And the way you think about Yourself and everything else Shifts, It’s nice to stop for a moment And notice.

- (10.2023 - 6.2024)

[pzagrilleandbar]

PZA Grille & Bar

Pizza isn't the best choice when you need dinner fast because it takes so long to make.

Pizza is one of my go-to solutions when I'm in a pinch for time but still need to get supper on the table because it takes so little time to prepare. If you really want to succeed in reaching your objectives, you will need to put in a lot of effort. No part of this is a lie, therefore you have no choice but to put your faith in us. My mom used to say things to me as a youngster that might be taken to indicate things like, "It seems like this is the case.

factor in deciding how down I'd feel and whether or not we could try to brighten the mood tonight Pizza Restaurant and other eating establishments. Certain phrases will stay with me forever in their exact form. My brother and I used to jump around on the couches and scream with glee whenever our parents left the room. If you're struggling to get yourself together, I'd like to take you out for pizza and some companionship. Put me in charge of it if that is what you want. Each and every one of the hotel's evening dinners that I've had during my stay has been delicious. There won't be any leftovers from tonight's meal for anyone to take home.

Someone must have overheard the talk. Pizza may be used in a mind-boggling variety of contexts. Please don't hesitate to get in contact with us at any time if you ever need help or have any questions. After the cheese reaches the desired consistency, dinner is ready (whether it be mozzarella or Cheddar). When I started working there, I never in a million years would have imagined being a pizza deliveryman; yet, now that I am one, I can't see doing anything else with my life. When I first moved to a new city, I was oblivious to the dire need for pizza there. I decided to open my own pizza parlor and set my own hours. I used to always get pizza delivered, but now I'm in the mood to make my own. It's hardly feasible that I'm the only one with an unhealthy pizza addiction. I used to be able to eat a whole pie of your pizza all by myself when I was younger. In the past, I was successful because your pizza is so good. As a kid growing up in that area, my family and I made numerous trips to your establishment. I was just a child at the time. I am on a mission to find the perfect pizza recipe, therefore I have sampled many different sauces and toppings. While it's more convenient to have pizza delivered after ordering it online, nothing beats the flavor of a handmade pie. Some of the best pizza in the whole United States can be found at this restaurant in the middle of a large metropolis. We opted for "passion pizzas" instead of a more conventional meal to better fit in with the local culture. As I saw my muscles tensing, I reminded myself to loosen up so that I could fully appreciate the activity at hand. Restaurant Specializing on Pizza But if we're going to be totally honest, that's not my biggest concern. The reality is that I can't think of a good reason for my absence. Indeed, I had no idea what was in store for me. Actually, I didn't give much thought to that option to begin with. I was not eligible for the locals-only discount since I do not presently reside in the region.

Pizza was a staple in my family's diet, so I never had to worry about being hungry when I was a kid. That way, I never had to worry about becoming hungry. Even if I have to eat pizza once a week, I will not let it derail my efforts to eat healthily. When I initially moved out on my own, pizza was one of the more regular supper options I resorted to since it was cheap, simple to make, and needed minimal cleaning. Another common dinnertime choice of mine was pizza. Having the option to order pizza for delivery whenever I don't feel like cooking is a huge weight off my shoulders. since there are so many pizza delivery options for customers to choose from these days. Even if the office is immaculately clean and there are always fresh doughnuts for breaks, you still won't be able to focus. The current situation is hopeless, and there is nothing that can be done to improve it. Why? All those seated at the table will have a great time thinking back on the funny and interesting stories they told one another throughout the course of the dinner. It is my understanding that everyone here agrees with the approach we will take. The likes of pickled jalapenos, spicy peppers, and Italian sausage may all be made to request. It's possible to actually shock the locals with your lunch selection if it features an unusual flavor profile that can't be found anywhere else in the neighborhood.

A priceless artifact was unearthed after years of searching.

Care for the most vulnerable people of society should be a top concern for political leaders everywhere. This necessitates extreme focus on your part. The cost of two pizzas or two fancy takeaway dinners is the same. It doesn't matter how many compelling arguments you hear against killing the animal if you have already made up your mind. To demonstrate my gratitude for the kids' efforts in and out of the classroom, I'm organizing a pizza party (akin to a victory celebration at a golf tournament) (like winning a golf tournament). If you take part in my golf ball tournament and maintain your GPA, I'll treat you to pizza on the house. Whether it was on an essay or the golf course, we hope that your recent success will encourage you to keep pushing yourself to new heights. Putting the needs of others before one's own is the norm in many cultures across the world. There are several possible applications for this.

[bucatinibucatini]

nope spoilers:

I cannot stop thinking about Gordy and Jupe’s storyline, how the movie starts with showing this gruesome, chilling example of a wild creature in a thoroughly domesticated environment snapping and going on a bloodthirsty rampage.

then the movie goes on, we meet adult jupe, he half casually, half uncomfortably talks about the experience with all the bravado of a tv star. OJ and Emerald have to have their meeting with him, because they will soon have their meetings with the alien. Jupe and his past have a direct line to the siblings’ future, and their fight against a wild creature in a thoroughly domesticated environment.

When we realize why this started, we realize Jupe has been luring this wild thing from the sky to his property, feeding it, and using it to entertain his audience. He’s been using the Hayward’s horses (we know how important those horses are to their identities and their family) to convince an alien to come and eat at his ranch over and over.

Why? I think because he was traumatized by his relation to Gordy on the day of the rampage. After all this chaos has already started with the alien, we learn that Jupe and Gordy were face to face, about to connect in a friendly way (their iconic fist bump), before Gordy was shot in the head four inches from Jupe’s face. Jupe never saw the conclusion of Gordy choosing to come over to the last person he saw still moving. Maybe he would’ve just sat down and relaxed? Jupe made him so comfortable, maybe Jupe could have been the thing to calm him down? Jupe knew Gordy so well, he was probably just scared and confused. Who knows what was going on in that child’s head when something this fucked up was going on in front of him.

Jupe is mentally stuck in the immense trauma of that day, we see him frozen in memory, reliving it again, right before his last performance, almost as though he’s remembering because he knows what’s going to happen. The parallel between gordy and the alien is fucking insane, and it’s impossible to stop thinking about.

The exact thing that didn’t kill that scared little kid all those years ago never left his side, it stayed with him until he grew up and made his own Gordy to finish the story the only way he knew how. The alien was never going to spare him, but did Jupe know that? Did his realization really only come when he was staring into it’s eye/mouth/vacuum? Or did he go out there every week, putting on his little cowboy hat and microphone, bringing his family out to watch, with the small itching feeling in this back of his mind that asked, “Was Gordy going to kill me? Will this thing kill me too?”

(And how OJ and Emerald got involved, their dad was killed, just for having these horses, the alien was seeing it’s meals wandering around and went to catch it’s own dinner. Did Mr. “Feed my Neighbor’s Horses to an Alien” think that through at all?)

[piastrinorris]

There is nothing j love more than Henderson!reader and Steve Harrington so if you’re looking for some prompts, look no further: Can you write a fluff Steve request where he unexpectedly comes over to the Henderson household after a dinner with his parents because while his parents talked all he thought about was how the Henderson!reader and Dustin are his family?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader (no pronouns/gendered terms)

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3847

A/N: I set out for these prompts to be quick little drabbles but this one REALLY got away from me lmao. Also this one's more Steve-heavy than Henderson-heavy just bc I got real into the story behind his and reader's relationship, I hope y'all still like it though!

"Steven!" The second syllable grates his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"What is it, Mom?" he shouts from the upper floor. It's useless, of course. She either can't or won't tell him. He runs halfway down the stairs, leaning across the railing. "Mother!"

"Oh please, don't be so immature," she rolls her eyes as she stands in the kitchen doorway. "And stop hanging like that, you're not a child anymore, for god's sake. Come down and set the table. And would it kill you to wear anything other than jeans? You know we've got company coming, and how important this is for your father."

With a heavy sigh, Steve makes his way to the dining room, and opens the closet to take out one of the "fancy" table coverings out. Ironic, he thinks. That would suggest they use the table for ordinary meals, too. Instead, it's plates of food left on the counter, not even called for, ready to take to whatever respective room they're each in; usually his mom eats while she watches her shows on the TV, his dad takes it straight back to the office, and Steve gets to eat in the comfort of his own bedroom.

Steve sets out the tablecloth, then the placemats, then all the correct forks, knives, spoons and glasses. He compares it to the photo his mother left in the closet for him, as a reminder because he kept "getting it wrong". Why have a fish fork AND a salad fork on the table if the entire meal doesn't have any of either?!

Once he's set everything up, he heads back up the stairs. A warning, "Steve..." from his mother causes him to shout back, "It's done, Ma! Take a look for yourself!"

"Oh, so you can do things when you're asked! Where's this energy when your father and I ask you to go get a real job, huh?" she asks.

Like a broken record. Steve gets changed into a dress shirt and slacks, stuffs his favourite crewneck and sweats into a backpack, styles his hair, throws some products from his bathroom into the bag too, sneaks into his parents' bathroom to spritz himself with one of his dad's colognes, and goes back downstairs to wait patiently like the good little family member he is. Having one of his dad's scents be at such close proximity is driving him crazy. Usually that smell precedes a monologue from his father that makes Steve hate himself, or a slap that stings for hours. He tries to get all the grossed-out facial expressions out now, before he becomes part of The Perfect Hosting Family.

His dad's guests arrive moments before his mother has to plate up. The couple that come in greet Steve briefly before he leads them to the dining room. His father offers to get wine from the cellar - he doesn't trust Steve after that one time when Steve was 15 and got drunk in there, supposedly ruining an important business proposal. It's up to Steve to make the small talk. "So, Mr Blake, how is your daughter these days?"

"Ah! Got into NYU! Naturally," he smirks proudly. "You, uh, you get anywhere with college?"

Steve shakes his head, recalling the fake reality for himself he'd been working on for this exact moment. "Not yet, my old man thinks I need real basic work experience, first. Can't get to the top without knowing the bottom inside out, right?"

"What a smart man!" Mr Blake laughs loudly, gesturing towards his father as he re-enters the room. "Punishing the boy with menial work before he reaps the benefits of a successful businessman."

"No such thing as a free handout, Jim," his father points to his guest. "Whatever it is that Steven makes of himself, it won't be through riding my coat-tails, that's for sure."

Steve wishes, just once, that his parents would have just enough pride to also protect their son's reputation. He sits the rest of the meal out in relative silence, perking up only when his mother would step on his foot and glare at him for not looking chipper enough. He takes every opportunity to clean up, washing dishes between courses and everything. The Blakes joke that his parents have trained him well. He just wants a few minutes where they can all just be out of sight, out of mind, for just a brief moment at a time.

As soon as the third course is all cleared up, Steve excuses himself from the table. "Are you sure, son?" Mr Blake asks, of course. It's not like anyone else at the table would call him that. "You could learn a lot about the trade by sitting in."

"Oh, thank you, but I've got quite a... Riveting biography upstairs that I'm itching to get back to," Steve plasters the fakest smile on his face before running upstairs. He throws his backpack out the window, jumps onto the roof below, climbs down and runs across the street to where his car is parked.

~~~

"Mom! Could you get that? I'm on a roll here!" Dustin calls from the sitting room after the doorbell rings.

"Sweetie, I'm just getting these out of the oven, can't you pause?" she shouts back.

"You guys know I'm here too, right?" you joke as you loudly stomp down the stairs.

"Wish I could forget!" Dustin chimes over his shoulder.

"Oh my god, I'm devastated. How will I ever recover from such a scathing remark from - truly the greatest wordsmith of his generation?!" You sarcastically yell before opening the door to see your childhood best friend-turned-acquaintance who barely acknowledged you throughout school-turned-brother's best friend, somehow. "Oh, hi Steve. You look... Nice." Your nose scrunches at the scent that follows him, missing the way he looks at you in shock. "Smell like your dad, though."

"Y-Yeah, can I... Use you guys' shower? I can pay towards the water bill in return," Steve offers as he steps through the doorway and kicks his shoes off.

In comes your mother, bustling through to pull Steve into a close hug. "Now don't you be so silly, Steve, we don't charge family here!"

Steve holds your mom extra tightly at that. You don't see it from where you're standing, but his eyes fill with tears and glee. "You're the best, Mrs H."

"When are we going to be on first-name terms, Mr Harrington?" she teases, and even you laugh at that.

Steve kisses your mom on the cheek and breaks the hug to head towards the bathroom. He stops again at you to smile softly. "Good to see you again. You're like, never here."

You shrug, "Different circles, I guess. Go shower, you reek of Old Rich Man," you hold your nose and Steve salutes you before climbing the stairs.

"You good, sweetie?" your mom asks when he's out of earshot, rubbing your arm sympathetically.

"Yeah, sure," you shrug, "it's not like we're both in school anymore. I can still exist around him, we're all grown-ups here. I'm fine, I promise."

When Dustin finally dies in his game, you tell him you want a turn on the Atari next, and instead boot up Mario Bros. Your brother sulks at being demoted to player 2, but you simply shrug him off, "Should have beat me to it at being the oldest then, shouldn't you?"

"Oh my god, gross," he pulls a face.

"Yeah, not such a wise guy now, are you?! Now c'mon, you've got until your BFF is out of the shower to get us past level 5."

When you're both deep into level 5, you can just about hear Steve talking up your mom's cookies with her in the kitchen. "Save some for us, Harrington!" you shout, your eyes not leaving the screen.

"Come and get 'em then, Henderson!" he shouts back with his mouth full.

"I don't hear you telling him off for talking with food in his mouth, Mom!" Dustin shouts, and you both cheer as the "level clear" screen shows up. "Holy shit, we did it!" Dustin cackles to you, holding his hand up for a high-five. Sure, you're both sarcastic little shits, but there's the occasional moment where he's bearable.

You return it and start up level 6. Steve sits on the couch behind you both. "You guys beat it yet?"

"Yeah, the key to know when you've finished a game is when you're still playing it," Dustin retorts. "Obviously not yet."

"We finally made it to the level before the fina- Dustin, I need you down here!" you yell exasperatedly, but he's just as frustrated.

"Well, I need you up -"

You both chorus a, "Shit!" as the Game Over screen shows up.

Steve laughs, and Dustin scoffs, "What are you laughing at, Steve? Not like you could do any better."

"Oh, yeah? It's just pressing some buttons and knowing where to go, it's not hard." You look over at Steve, who's sitting leant back on the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed. You notice he's now wearing a sweater and lounge pants. He still looks just as good in them as he did the other clothes. Fuck. The thoughts you were scared to have being around him. Still there.

You hold out your controller to him. "Only one way to find out, I guess."

Steve pulls an upside-down smile and slides off the couch to sit next to Dustin. He tries to wrestle the player 1 controller off Steve, but with no success. You excuse yourself to go and pick up a couple of your mom's cookies. You offer to help her clean up, but she ushers you back in to spend time with the boys.

You sit and watch the back of Steve's head as your head swims with thoughts. Why did he have to change his whole personality when you were in school? Especially when this is pretty much how you remember him when you were kids. What would have happened if he hadn't? Would he still be in your life? Would you have... Dated, even? It's never helped that he turned out to be super hot, apparently in any sort of clothing, so that's just great. But maybe it wouldn't have worked out, and maybe he wouldn't be here for Dustin, and Dustin needs him. So. It all works out for him, at least.

They barely make it through level 1 without biting each others' heads off. Level 3 is their ultimate demise. Dustin groans in anguish, "God, you are the worst to play with, why wouldn't you come and help me?!"

"Because I had my own guys to fight off! Why didn't you come to my aid?!" Steve asks, exasperated.

"Because you never said anything! You kept doing your own thing!"

"Because you were doing your thing!"

"Fellas, fellas," you interject, noticing Dustin's voice getting hoarser, "there's a very obvious tiebreaker here. Dustin?" You make eye contact with him and jerk your head aside, silently instructing him to sit on the couch. You then look to Steve and raise your eyebrows. Not even looking away from you, he drops the player 1 controller, shuffles over on his butt and picks up the one Dustin left. You scrunch your nose up as you nod, and retake your place on the floor.

"What are you even still doing here tonight, don't you actually have friends tonight? Why aren't you at your little witches' coven?" your brother asks.

"Nobody practices witchcraft in book club, stupid," you roll your eyes. "Vickie couldn't make it, and we're kinda 'all or nothing', so we're meeting next week instead. That's all," you falter, before clearing your throat and starting another game. You don't notice Steve's eyes narrowing.

The pair of you work really well together. Realising where Dustin went wrong, you actually verbally communicate with Steve as much as you can, knowing he doesn't know this game quite as well as you and your brother do. You start off with asking things of him, like "Hey, can you bop that guy there and I'll kick it off?" or "If I bop this one, can you come over and kick it?", but as the game progresses, you both communicate with simple, "Bop!"s and "Kick!"s. You're both starting to lean into the screen as you play through level 6, until you lose your balance and, not realising just how close Steve is, take him down with you. Dustin yells nonsensically as he watches both Mario and Luigi die at the same time, but you and Steve are too busy rolling around the floor, laughing at yourselves.

He's the first to pull himself back up, and he helps you up, too. His hand lingers a little longer once you're stood, just enough for him to stroke the back of your hand with it, and he looks at you softly. Adoringly? Longingly? He quickly lets go, though, and clears his throat. "Alright, Dustin, why don't we play something that won't make you lose your voice?"

You take him inviting Dustin to play, as a sign that you should retire and let them have the rest of the evening to themselves.

You're sitting on your bed, now several chapters into a new book, when a rapping at the door catches your attention. You shout, "Night, Mom!"

"Oh, it's, uh, it's me. Steve. Mind if I come in?"

You sit up, putting the book on your nightstand. "Sure!" He opens the door tentatively, and closes it behind him again, which you appreciate. If Dustin sees Steve in here, he might see it as an invitation for him to come in, and there's no way in hell you're okay with that. "What's up?" you ask.

"I dunno," he half-laughs, ruffling his own hair a little. "I just... Wanted to say hi, again. I guess?"

You smile at him as he sits at the foot of your bed, one leg folded beneath him. "Hi, again." His laugh has a little more heart in it, this time. "Were you... When you were all dressed up earlier, was that from your parents?" He nods sadly. "Are they still assholes?" He stays quiet. "Right. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want. Um," you look around the room, trying to think of something to talk about, but you're coming up blank. "So, what is it you do for wor-"

"What happened between us?" he asks over you, not making eye contact. You quieten down and he sighs. "Why... What was it?"

"Steve, I - you're clearly not in a good mood, I don't want to drag old shit up, we're adults now," you explain, but he looks at you directly.

"Please?"

"Seventh grade," you eventually groan in resignation. "Carol Perkins had just started dating that guy, Tommy Whatshisface, and you were all in the hallway before class. I came to find you to invite you to my birthday party. Carol told me that I must be dumber than a pet rock if I thought I had anything of worth to say to any of you three. A-and you laughed."

He rubs his eyes hard. "Shit. You know, I did try and find you at lunch that day. But I couldn't see you. And then you kept ignoring me."

"We'd had gym that day," you continue, "and Carol... Told me... You'd told her I was a desperate little nobody. And you wanted nothing to do with me. And you didn't know why I would think it was okay to invite you. And, I know it was probably stupid of me to believe Carol Perkins, but I was young and stupid and -"

"No, I get it," Steve cuts in, looking at you with sad eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't better at sticking up for you. But, I never, ever said those things about you. I've missed you."

You half-crawl on your knees across your bed to put your hands on Steve's shoulders, resting your head on the closest one. "Missed you, too. But, I'm glad you've been around for Dustin. He's needed someone like you. Especially since Dad..." you falter. Steve tilts his head to rest on yours, and holds one of your hands with his. "He needs a decent man around."

Another sad half-laugh. "Not many people would call me 'decent'."

"Well, I just did, so... Bite it or fight it," you repeat the phrase you always used to when you were kids. It meant "bite your lip and keep quiet, or fight it out physically between yourselves".

Steve chuckles, "We're a little old for that, right?"

You shrug, "Whatever gets you to stop talking shit about yourself."

"And what about you?" Steve asks. "My friend Robin said she couldn't hang out with Vickie tonight because Vickie said she had book club. So one of you is lying."

You sigh in defeat. "They're great. But everyone else is graduating this year. The ones that graduated with me, went to college. I couldn't put our family in more debt, not when it's just me, Mom and Dustin. But I didn't want to be a downer, or else nobody would want to hang out with me."

"I mean, you've not kicked me out yet, so I'm gonna mark that one down as "not true"," Steve notes, and you chuckle.

"Yeah, but that's different," you shake your head.

"Huh. So it's different when you're talking smack about yourself? Got it," Steve slaps his knees and stands up. You look at him with confusion as he turns on his heel. His whole demeanour changes. He's full of mischief. With a wicked grin, he says, "Nobody's allowed to say that to my friend!"

"Wait, no fair, you didn't say bite it or - Steve!" you laugh as he runs towards the bed, launches himself onto it and tackles you onto your back. He grabs your wrists, but you're able to push back until you're almost sitting upright. You manage to wrap your leg around him and, along with swinging your shoulder around with all your might, you're able to flip the two of you around so that he's on his back. The impact causes him to let go for a second, and you grab his wrists, pinning him beneath you.

You both take a pause to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you pant from the exhaustion of the struggle. His hair is fanned out all around his face in a perfect angelic halo. He's breathing heavily too, through parted lips. His lips... So perfectly plump and pink. His Adam's apple bobs with every breath. He's looking at your lips, too.

Before either of you know it, you're all over each other. Your hands move to slide in his hair, and his arms wrap around the small of your back. He pushes the kiss open to slip his tongue into your mouth with ease, a natural expert. It's electric, and you grip his hair near the roots. He moans into your mouth, his hands slipping down to squeeze your ass. You whine, breaking the kiss for just a second. You both look at each other with all the delight of two people whose problems do not matter in this moment, and dive right back into another open kiss.

Steve snakes his arms around you to roll the pair of you until he's once again on top of you. He strokes your hair out of your face, turns his hand around to drag the backs of his fingers down your cheek lightly while smiling at you with nothing but adoration. He looks as though he wants to say about twelve things at once, but instead he leans down and starts pressing soft, sweet kisses to your neck. You whimper, shakily whining out his name as you run your fingers back and forth through his hair.

He pulls up again to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded. "Baby, baby, baby," he mutters softly, "you're gonna make me take things way faster than I wanted if you keep that up."

"Hmm, what are - where are you staying for the night? Are you going back home?" you ask as you reach up to stroke his face.

"Not if I can help it, are you offering me something better?" he asks, nuzzling into your touch.

You half-shrug. "Big ol' bed here. Wouldn't want all that space going to waste, right?"

"Oh, we can't possibly be wasteful," Steve smirks before bending down to kiss you again. He holds your hip and pulls you into a half-roll so that you're both laying on your side, still kissing, remaining that way until you can't possibly fight off the tiredness any longer.

Steve pulls you close, so you're laying on his chest, and he strokes your hair and your arm in a gentle rhythm. Every now and then he kisses the top of your head, until you feel it get heavier with sleep. The last thing you hear that night is Steve purring, "Good night, beautiful."

You awaken on your mattress, facing the window. A pang of sadness hits your chest, until you roll over and see Steve still in your bed, just at an awkward angle. You lean over and see a Steve that he would never let anyone else see - hair sticking out at all angles, mouth hanging half-open, snoring lightly.

You start trying to stroke his hair back into shape for him and he snuffles, his eyes opening ever so slightly as he stirs. With a sleepy smile, he murmurs, "How's about paying a little less attention to my bed head and a little more time on my good morning kiss?"

You kiss him deeply, but fleetingly. "Lets get some breakfast, I'm gonna get rid of this morning breath, and then we can pick right back up, how's that sound?"

"Like the world's greatest plan," he beams back, leaning up to kiss you again.

Once you get downstairs, two items greet the pair of you: a tupperware container filled with cookies and with a note taped to it that reads, "a snack for the road, for my favorite future son-in-law"; and a note in your brother's handwriting that reads:

RULES FOR DATING:

no kissing/cuddling/gross shit in front of me

no ditching me to hang out with each other

no talking about the other one when we ARE hanging out alone

I am not above hurting either of you if you hurt the other one

Welcome to the family officially, Steve. Don't fuck it up.

"Oh my god, they're so embarrassing," you rub your face in half-tiredness and half-embarrassment.

Steve chuckles, "It's cute. And I think Mr and Mrs Steve Henderson sounds cuter."

"Shut up," you slap his shoulder playfully and he laughs harder, before pulling you close by the waist. "Although..." you muse, sliding your hands up his torso to rest on his shoulders, "these just being left here means neither of them are in the house..."

A glint appears in Steve's eye as an equally eager grin slowly spreads across his face. "Race you upstairs."

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Hi!! I love love your work!

Midge and Lenny + Rosh Hashanah?

(Thank you so much!!)

Rosh Hashanah is a relaxed affair compared to Yom Kippur, and Lenny is deeply grateful for that.

No Maisels. No rabbis. Just the extended Weissman family, sitting around Midge's dining room table, feasting on roasted chicken and apples and honey and fresh challah.

Lenny digs into the tzimmes right off the bat, and Midge watches him, amused.

"What? It's my favorite," he pleads. "You make it with the exact right amount of cinnamon and you add ginger."

"It is very good," Abe concedes from the other end of the table. "Even the prunes taste good, and that's hard to do."

"Joel hated the tzimmes," Rose comments. "He said it was too orange for it to be trusted."

"What, he was afraid it would jump out and stab him?" Noah asks, confused.

Astrid giggles a little. "Lenny, will you please pass it over when you're done?"

"If he's ever done," Midge teases.

"I am not that bad," Lenny defends as he passes the platter down to Astrid.

"Eh, you're a little bad," Midge tells him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I love you anyways."

"Aww," Astrid squeaks. "They're so cute, aren't Midge and Lenny cute?"

Rose hesitates on that, thinking it over for a moment as she eats some apple she's dipped into the honey. "They...do make a good match."

"Did Ma just say that?" Noah asks. "I may keel over from the shock."

"No keeling over, please," Abe commands. "You're too tall for anyone here to lift."

"Nah, go for it, Noah, I could lift you fine," Lenny jokes.

"So, what's the plan for Yom Kippur this year?" Astrid asks. "Same as always?"

"Well, Lenny will be joining us at services," Rose tells her.

Midge blinks at her boyfriend in surprise. "You will, will you?"

"Your mother and I had a long, long talk about how it's unfair that I get to eat the delicious meal that you and Zelda will inevitably prepare without going to Schule..." he admits. "And I...may have seen the logic. Also, apparently you give out chocolate."

"To the kids," Midge laughs.

"I am a child at heart."

"You're not getting any of Ethan's chocolate bars," Midge tells him. "Until after services. And then the melty leftovers get distributed to the desperate."

"I bet I could change your mind," Lenny smirks, a glint in his eye.

"And then we will all come back here for dinner," Rose cuts into their flirting. "The same as every year."

"Is Joel coming this year?" Noah asks curiously.

"Shirley's been cagey about it," Rose frets. "And it's only a week away. I wish she would just tell me."

"He's been having a tough time since Mei left, hasn't he?" Astrid asks.

"Another reason for Lenny to come to services with us," Abe says gravely. "Another buffer between Joel and Miriam."

"I'd be fine without Lenny there," Midge tells them all, waving a hand. "But I like having him around anywhere, so it's a win for me."

"Nice to be wanted," Lenny grins as he scrapes some of his chicken onto her plate.

"Lenny..." she warns.

"You took half a wing, I got a thigh. Take some thigh."

"Fine."

"The chicken is so good, Midge," Astrid says. "Do you have the recipe?"

"I do! I got this month's Better Homes and Gardens? They had this recipe that included orange zest on the outside of the bird. and stuffing oranges inside."

"Oh, yum!"

Lenny and Midge glance at each other, both holding back jokes about fisting, likely, and keep eating.

Noah tears into a slice of challah. "Shanah Tova, family. May it be a sweet and less stupid new year."

"Noah," Rose admonishes.

"I'll drink to that," Abe says, lifting a wine glass.

Everyone follows suit, and toasts.

[twistedmusings]

I'm not going to request it now because requests are closed, but that Savanaclaw petting scenario was really cute and like,, Octavinelle petting and examining them

(,,• W •,,)

A/N: If you can pinpoint the exact moment I started to slowly doubt my writing ability and how to write these characters, I will give you, the reader, 100 points. Cause man this was rough to write when you have writer's block q wq But anyways, this was when my requests were closed BUT I WANTED TO COME THROUGH WITH IT! I would like to dedicate it to @kirayamidemon since I read their comic and it was...excellent.

But in other news, I found out that eels like to be petted!

Warnings: Eel petting, Octopus petting and all three Octavinelle members feeling a certain way when you finally give them those pats.

[Floyd-Senpai: Shrimpy~! Meet us in the mirror room tonight! Azul says he wants to give you something!] 

Your eyes look down at your phone before pocketing it back into your jacket, taking another sip of the Coral Pink drink Floyd had made for you before you left Monstro Lounge as you reminisce back on the day you just had. 

Today has been probably the most successful day the Monstro Lounge has had in a while. You had offered up the idea to Azul while you two walked to the cafeteria, mentioning touching a manta ray once and how you didn’t expect them to be so slimy. He had looked at you curiously and asked if you had just been a curious child when you were growing up, but you told him that you used to go to a lot of aquariums and how you would go straight to the petting exhibit. 

And the moment you said petting exhibit, Azul already had cashed the idea in. 

Aquariums had been placed elegantly among the tables of Monstro Lounge tonight. The smaller aquariums on the tables were closed lid, giving the customers a chance to enjoy the little ecosystems Jade had personally made for the creatures Azul had brought in while partaking in their drinks and meals. It made for a killer Magicam picture and Azul had predicted with Vil’s and Cater’s attendance the hashtag #MonstroLoungeExperience would be trending by the time they reached the dinner rush.

It trended faster than they thought. 

Most foot traffic, however, came from the piece de resistance. 

In the middle of the Lounge, a large aquarium had been placed at foot level where various customers could reach down and pet larger animals such as sting rays, sturgeon fish, starfishes and sea cucumbers. All of them with little placards stating fun facts as well as little sections with a bunch of coral that made for another perfect Magicam photo opportunity. 

It had been an amazing experience and you felt like you had almost grown closer to the three Octavinelle students, which was always an ‘A+’ in your book. 

You were pretty sure you saw Azul smiling from ear to ear by the time they closed and Floyd and Jade looked physically exhausted from having to deal with so many customers. They had been busy from opening to closing with no breaks in between so you figured that they would want to rest. 

So getting a message from Floyd so late at night had been somewhat confusing. 

But you didn’t question it, the fact that Azul wants to give you something making you ever so curious. 

Who knows, maybe if the sea creatures were still around Azul could let you pet them some more? 

Out of everyone you had probably been the most excited for the petting exhibit and you had given him the idea so the possibility of playing more with the starfishes and manta rays pushed you to move faster. 

Finishing the last of your drink and throwing it away in the nearest trash can, you push open the doors to the mirror room with a smile--!  

Only to find nobody. 

“...huh.” 

You look around, not daring to call out either of their names since, technically, you weren’t even supposed to be here. The only thing you could do was take a few steps further, looking around as you try to make some sense of the situation. 

Why wouldn’t they meet you in Octavinelle? The Monstro Lounge was there, as well as all the creatures. Azul’s office was there as well so if he wanted to give you something he could have given it to you there, so why had Floyd asked to meet them in the Mirror room? You look around for a moment before frowning as the realization set in. 

It was a prank. 

“Dammit.” 

Of course. Why would Floyd even act this nice towards you if it wasn’t to lull you into a false sense of security? The table you had sat in today had a beautiful aquarium with a bunch of little shrimps floating around and the mereel, more than once, had opened the lid and stuck his hand inside to grab one of the shrimps and hang it over his open mouth. 

You thought he was just acting this way because he was stressed from working so much but he probably had just done it to tease you! With a huff, you pull out your phone and open up his contact number to give him a piece of your mind--! 

“Aha! Shrimpy is here!” 

Only to gag as the back of your jacket is grabbed by a slimy aquamarine hand, pulling you into the nearest mirror and leaving nothing but your phone laying on the ground. 

Floyd’s hands pull you into a hug the moment you are pulled into the water, laughing as he sees you thrashing around and pulling at the arms keeping you pressed close to him. 

“Ahhhh! Shrimpy stop moving!” 

The mereel squeezes you tight, smiling as he looks down at the moment you realize who is holding you and what you are able to do. 

He grins and wraps his tail around you, the fins brushing your fingertips as the shock slowly starts to die down and the curiosity starts to set in. Floyd’s eyes shine brighter under the sea, your hand going to your chest as you expected to drown immediately but finding it simple to breathe in and out. 

“What--?!”

“Finally!” 

“There we go~ Breathe in--”

You take a deep breath. 

“And out~” 

Your chest relaxes as Floyd giggles at how wide your eyes have gotten, letting you go with his arms but his tail wrapping around one of your legs and pulling you close to him once again. He smiles when your hands go up to inspect the fins on his ears but stop as if the situation was still highly unreal for you to believe. 

He guessed humans rarely got to see the sea during the night, but he was glad he got to show you this sight. Even if it was Azul’s idea in the first place. 

Looking around, you notice that you had been here before. 

It was the Coral Sea. 

You look back at the mereel as Floyd tilts his head at your confusion, smiling as he sees the shining in your eyes get brighter when you notice that the veins in his arms and the ones going up his neck are all shining in the moonlit water. 

“Floyd…” 

Ah. You really looked too cute. Especially when you were looking at him with so much wonder. Maybe he should just take you out further and hide near the corals, somewhere Jade nor Azul would look as he preens under your attention. 

He blinks as you break out of the spell long enough to point a finger at him. 

“You--! Why did you call me to the Mirror room so late! The last thing I need to do is get in trouble with the Headmaster!” 

Floyd frowns, “You didn’t get in trouble! I pulled you when I heard your voice! Why didn’t you call out to me!” 

“Because I couldn’t see tail nor fin of you!”

Both of you stop talking after your dumb joke, looking at each other with surprise before a giggle escapes your lips first, turning into a full blown laugh between you both as he takes your hand and presses it under the fins in his ears. 

“Shrimpy was so mean today. Petting all those creatures and ignoring everything else. It made me want to eat all of them up.” 

You smile and rub right under the juncture where fins meet skin, Floyd shivering as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Eels don’t eat any invertebrates, right? You guys are mostly carnivores.” 

He grins and gives you a small squeeze. You even knew of his diet? Why hadn’t you mentioned you knew some things about sea creatures. If you had, Floyd would have dragged you to the Coral Sea way before this! He smiles as your hands go all the way down to his neck, tracing each vein slowly but not going any further than his clavicle and choosing instead to run your fingers from his shoulder blades all the way to his Adam's apple. 

“Shrimpy is being too shy. Here!” 

You gasp as Floyd grabs your hand and helps you swim over to a pair of rocks, sitting you down on top as the bottom of his tail wrapped around your legs to keep you anchored. He laughs as he practically sits on you, choosing instead to lay the top half of his tail on your lap as you look down at the shiny, swishing fins. 

“Now you can touch as much as you’d like!” 

Floyd was ready to make a joke about how this would a much better petting experience for you but his eyes widen when he sees the wonder in yours, the smile in his face disappearing as he watches your fascination with his fins, running your fingers through his caudal fin and rubbing the edges with your hand. His hands twitch as you run yours up his tail, taking in the slimy but firm feeling before looking up at him and reaching out to cup his face with one hand. 

He presses his cheek against your palm, smiling as you scratch right over his ear fin and almost jumping up from the rock as you start to rub the appendage. 

“Shrimpy wait--” 

Shit, he almost bit his tongue. He could barely look into your curious eyes as his heart sped up, the most sensitive area of his body being played and inspected with being a far too new feeling for him to just laugh it off. 

Floyd bites his bottom lip as his tail squeezes your legs, closing his eyes as he felt several shivers go up his spine. It felt too good--

“Floyd?” 

The mereel slowly comes down from the high as he glares at the intruder, clicking his tongue as he saw who it was. 

A pair of identical eyes to Floyd’s turn in your direction, your hand pulling away from the other as you turned to greet Jade. 

“You certainly took them farther than I thought you would.” 

He chuckles as his brother turns away, clearly not wanting you to see the blush on his cheeks. Nevertheless, his attention immediately goes back to you, swimming over to your side and sitting on the opposite of where Floyd was situated. 

“Did you have any troubles finding us?” 

You shook your head, “Floyd grabbed me and pulled me in before I could leave.” 

Jade nods and looks down at how Floyd had situated himself, a brief pang of jealousy overtaking him as he scoots closer, takes your hand and presses it on his chest. You immediately try to pull back but Jade’s eyes lid as he tugs you in closer, the veins in his chest shining even brighter than Floyd’s as he immediately feels you relax in his touch. 

“Do you know what this is, [Y/N]-san?” 

His eyes take their time to take in all of you as you nod your head, whispering the word ‘bioluminescence’ as Jade licks his lips. 

How strange was it to see you so focused. Jade had taken his time during the lull of the Monstro Lounge hours to watch you near the petting tank, your fingers running over the manta rays and tapping at the carapaces of the horseshoe crabs. And like his brother he did feel a certain sort of jealousy for those creatures, but he also saw an opportunity. 

An opportunity to get your guard down. 

His eyes look over at Floyd, the other pouting as your fingers start to trace Jade’s chest all by themselves.

“Uhm--” 

Jade’s attention goes back to you, “Yes?” 

“I didn’t think that moray eels had bioluminescence.” 

He smiles and takes your hand again, guiding it from the middle of his chest all the way to his cheek making sure that your fingers feel the light travel in his veins as you start to wriggle out of Floyd’s hold and into Jade’s. 

“Our kind is a mixture of many eels types. While our exterior is that of a moray eel, our interior is also made up of certain eels that use this feature as a way to communicate with other animals, warn predators…” 

The mereel decides to keep the ‘lure prey’ part out of his explanation. 

Jade’s eyes immediately went to Floyd’s as the other was about to speak up, glaring at him to keep his mouth quiet for he had his turn. His eyes soften when they go back to you, your eyes still taking in all of the small trails of light decorating Jade’s body as your hands trace against the caudal fins on his arms. 

They were rougher than the ones near their ears…

Slowly, your hands go to the fins on the side of Jade’s face, the mereel tensing up but keeping his eyes on you as you start to tug and rub at the appendages. 

“[Y/N]-san…” 

His nails scratch against the rocks as he feels your fingers trace every line they can find, his fins giving a little twitch as you push them back only to watch them slowly move back to their original spot. You had no idea what you were making him feel, what you probably made Floyd feel. 

And if his dear brother wanted to keep it a secret, then he would keep his mouth shut as well. 

Having someone touch them so freely, especially that area, was an act reserved for mates only. Even during courtship this was prohibited and if any other merperson happened to swim by it would be as if they just tumbled into the merman equivalent of someone shoving their fingers in between someone else’s legs. 

But your curiosity was so endearing and Jade just couldn’t find it in himself to pull you away. In fact, that look of yours full of innocence and naivety was so cute that if he let his instincts run wild you would find yourself being dragged to the Leech's home--

“What--you two!” 

His reason kicks back in as Jade smiles and turns to look at the new visitor. 

The octomer’s face is bright red as he locks eyes with you, your hands letting go of Jade’s fins as he smiles and waves at Azul. 

“I’m glad you decided to join us, Azul.”

He wants to say something about what the hell he just saw but he decides to save it, knowing full well that Jade nor Floyd were going to give him a straight answer. Instead, he decides to address you directly. 

“Inferring from our conversation from early this morning as well as your actions during the Monstro Lounge opening hours, I figured you would like this sort of surprise." 

He clears his throat, sneaking a peek at your face and quickly looking away as he saw your eyes staring straight at him. 

Humans like you are still curious about the different types of merpeople, especially those like Jade and Floyd, so after much consideration I decided--” 

"Azul, you're beautiful." 

Oh no. He bit his tongue. Fuck, fuck, fuck he bit his tongue and now it hurts like a shell clamping down on his hand--why had you gone and say something like that so suddenly?! 

"Excuse me?" 

The spell Jade had you in was completely broken as you pulled out of the brother's hold and swam over to him, stopping when you noticed him backing away. 

Azul stared at you and you stared back at him. 

He couldn't help it. After all the things he had to deal with, it was hard enough for him to even appear in front of you like this. And it wasn't like he was doing it as a showing of any sort of affection towards you, he just didn't want to owe you any favours from the idea you had given him! 

All he had to do was just...reach a tentacle out-- 

"Huh?" 

Azul notices you swimming back a tiny bit, smiling at the tentacle shyly reaching out to you. 

"You can turn back, you know. I don't want you to feel forced to do this." 

You point at him, your eyes still wide with curiosity but keeping your distance. 

"The fact that I get to see you like this is enough." 

Azul can feel his heart skip a beat, tentacles unfurling even more as the need to hide melted away. 

But...he owed you a favor... 

"Honestly. Thank you so much Azul." 

For the Sea Witch's sake, he really couldn't pin you down, could he? 

The octomer swims over, floating right in front of you as one tentacle shyly brushes against your fingertips. They twitch in interest but you do not move, looking up at Azul expectantly. 

You really were too nice for your own good, waiting for someone to give you the okay when he clearly wanted you to at least inspect that part of him. 

"Go...go ahead." 

Your touch is soft, pressing your hands right against his suckers and chuckling at the small noise they made as they attached themselves to your skin. Azul moves in a bit closer as some tentacles start wrapping around your ankles and wrists, his natural instincts taking over as his tentacles wrap around the person he really liked. 

Well not like as in like like but a like he had yet to put a definition to. And it's not like it needed a definition, you certainly weren't asking him what sort of like it was and the thought of what kind of like it really was didn't keep him up at night at all. 

"Oop!" 

Azul almost wants to screech at the tentacle going in between your legs and hoisting you up, offering you a sort of makeshift seat as the other appendages start to press against your neck, leaving behind little sucker marks in their wake. 

This situation was not only testing his boundaries but also his patience. 

"I didn't think they would be so slippery...and so soft!" 

Please don't look so curious about him! It's going to give him wild expectations! 

The tip of a tentacle rubs against your cheek, Azul's face an almost red tomato as he hears you chuckle and push the appendage back but for some reason his tentacles weren't listening to him so the thing only pushed forward even more--

"Ah! No fair!" 

Floyd comes up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug as he points a finger at Azul. 

"No hogging Shrimpy to yourself!" 

Azul swims back in alarm. 

"I wasn't hogging anyone!" 

Jade laughs as he swims right up behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he pulls you back. 

"Azul you might want to look down." 

The octomer blinks only to look down, seeing that one of his tentacles had stubbornly wrapped around your waist. 

"Ahh...ahhhh….!" 

You, Jade and Floyd blink as dark ink fills the water, Azul covering his face and letting you go, swimming to the nearest hole and curling up inside as he strangles one of his tentacles. 

Of all the things to embarrass him it just had  to be himself, huh?! 

"Azul? Wait come back!" 

"Shrimpy tell me I'm beautiful as well~!" 

"Floyd let me go! There's ink everywhere!" 

"Not until you tell me I'm beautiful!" 

"Jade!" 

"Azul is more than okay, I can assure you...although I would also like the same compliment as well, [Y/N]-san." 

The next day, you woke up with a high fever due to swimming all night, a present from all of the Octavinelle students at your doorstep with an apology card neatly placed on top. 

[hourcat]

wonder

(word count: 1,246)

Charles jerks awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch—accidentally, he swears he’d just closed his eyes in front of the television for a second—as he hears Pierre call his name from across the house.

“Charles,” he calls again, and Charles groans loudly in response, rubbing at his eyes like he can hide the fact he’d just been asleep from his husband. With another low noise, he pushes up off from the cushions and walks towards the sound of Pierre’s voice.

When he strolls into the kitchen, he’s greeted to the sight of his husband holding their daughter in one arm, kitchen towel tossed over his shoulder, wooden spoon in his free hand. Pierre glances up and grins at him. “Cheri,” he murmurs as Charles wanders over to drop a kiss on Odette’s forehead, then one to match on Pierre’s. “You were asleep, weren’t you.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I just closed my eyes—” Pierre chuckles, interrupting him, which sends their daughter into a fit of giggles from where she’s half-draped over Pierre’s shoulder. “Shut up,” he says to Pierre, although the sound of Odette’s laughter melts any attempt at a sarcastic quip that might have followed. Her eyes are bright with delight and her cheeks are so red that Charles suddenly understands all the little old ladies he used to roll his eyes at as a child. He does want to eat her up.

“Pierrot,” he says softly, remembering that he’s actually supposed to be doing something here. “What do you need, mon amour?” Pierre raises an eyebrow, smile curled on his face, before nodding towards Odette, who blinks at him with big eyes and yawns, soft, before planting back into Pierre’s shoulder. Ah.

“If you want dinner, bebe, I will need a free hand to do it.”

Charles laughs. “I always said I wished you had three arms,” he teases under his breath, and then flushes at the look Pierre gives him. Oops. "Sorry, sorry. I—yes, come here, mon ange, come to daddy.” Like they’ve done a hundred times before, Charles ducks forward and scoops their sleepy baby from Pierre’s shoulder, where she ends up nuzzled in the exact same position, face smushed against Charles’ t-shirt as she giggles sleepily. “There we go, cherie, see? Allllll better.” He kisses her cheek again and gets another little warble of laughter right in his ear.

“Thank you,” Pierre murmurs, leaning close to nuzzle at Charles’ cheek before turning back to the meal prep in front of him. “Papa has to make dinner for his favorite people, yes? Only the best for mon cygne, the prettiest girl in the world.” He’s mostly paying attention to the pot he’s stirring, but Charles still thinks the look on his face is devastating all the same. Pierre is always open like a book—has been that way his whole life, one of the many things Charles loves about him—but especially like this, tucked away in the privacy of their home with Odette.

“Thank you, papa,” Charles says, and then turns his head to O, who’s yawning again. “Can we say thank you to papa, mon ange? Thank you for dinner, papa?”

Odette babbles something that sounds like Charles’ words, and Pierre laughs.

“Anything for you, Odette,” he answers, and then turns fully towards dinner. Charles hums and bounces Odette in his arms, earning another giggle.

“You are fluent already, cherie,” Charles tells her, beaming. “You sound just like papa, you are so smart.” He kisses her cheek again and she shouts delightedly right in his ear. “Oof.” With the hearing he hasn’t temporarily lost, Charles catches Pierre’s chuckle, and warm affection stretches wide in his gut, catlike. “Mmm, does my beautiful baby want to come on a walk with her daddy?”

“Charlito, dinner isn’t going to take that long,” Pierre says, head on a swivel to deliver a typical are you serious face, raised eyebrows and all.

Ah, well. It’s probably too cold outside, and he’s comfortable in his lounge clothes to really change, anyway. “We will just take a little walk around the house, papa,” he replies with a smile, taking one of Odette’s hands in his own and waving it around. “Just a little walk, I promise. Isn’t that right, ma cherie.” The little girl in his arms squeaks happily. “We will not even leave your sight, Pierrot.”

Pierre chuckles. “You leave my sight all you want, cher, but you keep my baby close.”

Charles scoffs. “Your baby,” he says flatly, and then bounces O in his arms again as he meanders back towards the couch. “You are our baby, cherie, do not let papa fill your head with silly little ideas.” He kisses her head again. “Ours and nobody else’s. Our cherie amour.” Odette blinks at him, eyes big, and babbles a response that Charles is endlessly endeared by.

With a little sigh, he sinks onto the arm of their sofa, Odette still nestled in his shoulder. “Cherie amour,” he repeats softly, squeezing her a little. “You are just like that little song, yes?” With another kiss to her head, Charles begins humming, Stevie Wonder’s lyrics half-conjured up in his head. “Lovely as a summer’s day,” he whisper-sings, squeezing her again. Odette giggles. “My cherie amour, distant as the milky wayyyy.” Charles sways a little, the closest he’ll get to dancing without Pierre in tow. O yawns, another sentence of babbling spilling into Charles’ ear, albeit softer this time.

“Charles,” Pierre says, looking out at where they’re perched from the kitchen counter. “Are you really singing that song?”

Charles laughs quietly, ignoring Pierre for a beat in favor of continuing to croon to their daughter. “My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore,” he dots a kiss to her head, “You’re the only girl my heart beats for.” And then, turning his head towards Pierre: “It is catchy,” he insists, shaking his head at Pierre’s disbelieving expression. “Even if it is a disaster for the French language.”

Pierre cackles. “It is a disaster, isn’t it,” he echoes. And then, with another, softer laugh, he joins in. “La la laaa la la la,” he sings, loud and incredibly off key. Charles snorts, ducking forward and tucking Odette closer in the process. She squeaks in his arms, right in his ear again.

“Pierrot, oh my god—how can you play piano and not have pitch to save your life.” Charles stands up again and walks the two of them back into the kitchen, where Pierre’s singing continues at a softer volume. He hums as he stirs the pot of soup before him, clearly not remembering all the lyrics but not seeming particularly bothered by it.

“Darling,” he mutters with a grin, “not all of us can be master pianists with a side hobby of racing, you know.” Charles snorts at the commentary. “I hope you will forgive me for not sounding like Stevie Wonder.”

“I will forgive you if dinner is good tonight, cher,” he answers, grinning at his husband. Pierre just groans.

“Dinner is always good when I cook,” he corrects, narrowing his eyes just a little at Charles’ amusement. “You are lucky our little girl is here because I have some choice words for you, Charlito.” Like she knows she’s being talked about, Odette giggles, untucking herself from Charles’ shoulder and reaching out for Pierre.

Charles just bats his lashes innocently. “I look forward to hearing them later, mon amour.”

[fandomlovingfreak]

It Was Written on Their Wrists in Stars (ch10/?)

Egon Spengler/F!Reader

Ch1. Ch2. Ch3. Ch4. Ch5. Ch.6 Ch7. Ch8. Ch9. Ch11.

Rating: General Audiences

Includes: Soulmate marks, soulmate fic, breakups

Word Count: 1851

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Ever since you were a child, you had dreamed about getting your mark and finding the perfect person. When you finally got your mark, a quarter-sized star on the inside of your wrist, you were delighted! Your fairytale romance was just getting started.

Egon didn’t believe in fate. He didn’t believe that a mark on your body meant something just because it matched a mark on someone else’s body. When he woke up one morning and found a star on his wrist, he brushed it off. Moles could be star-shaped, he supposed.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ghostbusters (sad, I know). This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: CHAPTER TEN! We’re 14,000 words into this fic and I’ve had such a lovely time writing it! It’s amazing to see so many people send lovely messages about how they enjoy this AU! Makes it 100x more fun to write when I see that people actually enjoy reading! You don’t understand how much I love writing for all of you!<3 Till the next update.... :)

Enjoy

I wake up early the next morning, my chest full of ardency. There was no exact word for the feeling, but if I were to explain it, it was like waking up in a different, brighter world where everything is determined to make you smile. The morning goes by in a flash, dressing, eating breakfast, chit-chatting with Monica is done and over, and I'm out of the house half an hour earlier than usual.

The only thing that can dampen my mood is the thought that I'll have to explain the situation to Peter eventually. Sooner would be better than later, but if I'm honest, I don't know how he'll react to the whole I'm going to date his friend thing. Maybe later wouldn't be the worst time to tell him.

Monica had reminded me before I left that I needed to call Peter. 

"The least you could do is tell him. The sooner you tell him, the sooner you can be with loverboy." She had skipped out of the kitchen after dropping the facts in front of me. Monica was right, unfortunately.

I set my bag down on my desk right as Egon walks through the door.

"Morning," I lean against the desk, trying hard not to grin.

"Good morning, (y/n)." His smile is small, but it's there, and it's all for me!

"How was your night?"

"Typical."

I nod, "What is your typical, Egon?"

His brow furrows, "I spent hours working on my research."

"On?" I press him for answers, inching closer until I am half a foot away.

His adam apple bobs, eyes watching me with interest, "Paranormal findings from the last two hundred years. The similarities and differences between cases. Often I compare those I find with what is found in the Tobin's Spirit Guide."

That's not at all what I thought he was going to say. Paranormal findings? Why on Earth was he researching paranormal findings? "Oh. That's interesting."

"How about you?"

"What about me?" I ask, still processing Egon researching on the paranormal.

"What is your typical night?"

"Oh! Normal stuff like cooking dinner and watching television with my roommate. Relaxing, I guess."

He nods, "Do you enjoy cooking?"

I grin, "On occasion. Do you?"

"I rely on take-out for all meals."

"Every night?" 

He's half-smiling, "You've been to the apartment. Did you think the kitchen looked well-stocked?"

I love that he's playing along with this. "Fair enough."

"So..." Egon looks away momentarily, "Do you have plans this weekend?"

"No!" The answer comes out immediately, "I mean, no. I don't have any plans this weekend."

"Oh, good. So, in that case, would you be interested in uh... going out with me Saturday?"

"Of course, I would," I take his hand in mine, "Were you thinking of anything specific?"

Egon looks at our hands, "I have a few ideas."

***

The apartment is empty when I arrive home. When I'm getting a snack from the fridge, I notice the note written in big loopy cursive and stuck to the fridge with an I Heart NYC magnet.

Just call him! Get it over with! 

Monica's probably right. Sighing, I make my way into the living room. Sinking into the couch, I dial the number. The dial tone rings and rings, and I'm certain he must not be home. The phone clicks.

"Hello?"

"Peter, it's (y/n)."

"(y/n)," he sounds pleased to hear my voice, making my stomach tighten, already in a knot.

"Peter, Hi. Are you free tonight?" The realization that this sounds like I'm asking him on a date hits me too late.

"Sure. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes." He hangs up the phone before I can get another word out. Great. How did I manage to make this worse?

Honestly, the plan had been to talk to him in his apartment so it would be private. Tell him what the situation is, how sorry I was for getting him involved in this uncomfortable position... in private! 

***

We sit down in the far back of the small bar. The lighting is horrific, the clientele many. So really, I've lucked out. The last thing I'd like to do is do this in a well-lit, near-empty place where we'd end up the center of attention.

Peter's asked me all the little formal questions about my week and day as we walked to the bar, so we've said little since we sat down and ordered a drink.

"I didn't ask you how your internship has been going?"

"Oh, it's been fine. Dr. Leinonen's research is interesting, so I have no complaints."

Peter nods, taking a sip of his beer, "Egon's not driving you insane?"

The laugh gets caught in my throat, sounding like a cough, "No. I enjoy working with Egon. He's very precise and takes most of the notes. I'd say we make good partners." I'm pushing it with the last sentence. There's no need to shove that at him.

"He does take good notes."

Pursing my lips, I lean forward ever so slightly, "Peter?"

"Yeah?" Peter leans closer.

"Um..." I find it hard to meet his eye, but I've got to just get over with this, "I've been thinking ever since our lunch date... and I just don't think we should continue doing this. I don't think we have a connection."

"What?" He leans back again, putting distance between us.

"I don't wish to lead you on, Peter. And, I have a sneaking suspicion that you don't feel anything for me beyond physical attraction." 

Peter seems to study my face, his expression having gone unreadable as I spoke. Anxiety fills me. Possibly, I've been too blunt.

"Did I do something?"

I begin to shake my head as soon as the sentence lands between us, "No! You didn't do anything, but there's no spark between us. It's nothing we can control or really fix. It... just doesn't exist."

He doesn't look defeated nor upset, just sort of blank. 

I try to repeat my apology, "I'm really sorry, Peter--"

"Don't worry about it, (y/n)."

"I--" Words fail me. I don't know how to tell him about Egon and me. Do I tell him...? "I really am sorry."

Peter holds up his hand to stop me from over apologizing, "You don't have to apologize for not wanting to date me. I'll be fine, (y/n). I don't feel any ill will for you over it. It happens."

A small smile comes to my lips, "You're a really great guy, Peter. I'm sorry that I couldn't get my own feelings in line."

***

He walks me back to my apartment, still being incredibly kind. I never got around to talking about the mark or Egon being my mark match. It was the cowardly thing to do, and I know it's awful, but I can only deliver a certain quota of bad news and have reached the level I'm comfortable with.

"So, I'll probably see you around," Peter says when we reach my apartment. He has his hands stuffed in his jean pockets, shifting his weight from his toes to his heels. Yes, I can not knock this man down again right now. He already looks so uncomfortable.

"Yeah... I mean Ray... I hang out with him sometimes..." Gosh, this is awkward.

"Yeah... Well, goodnight, (y/n)."

"Goodnight, Peter." I turn towards the door, walking as fast as possible without running.

Monica is waiting at the kitchen table. She looks at me eagerly, "So? Did you do it?"

"Why do you look so excited?" I grin, rolling my eyes, "My short-lived summer fling isn't that thrilling."

She ignores me, "How did he take it?"

"Surprisingly good."

"Weird. I wouldn't have taken him for a guy that would be okay with his ex-flings dating his friends." I smile awkwardly at her. "You didn't tell him your soulmate is his friend? (y/n)!" Monica blinks at me in disbelief.

"I-- I already basically told him I'm not attracted to him! How could I tell him about Egon? It was cruel!"

"It's worse that you didn't say anything! Now he's going to find out in some horrible way! What if Ray tells him? If Ray tells him it's going to be so much worse!"

"Ray wouldn't do that, Mon. He's known the longest about my mark match and never even told Egon."

"Still! How do you plan on staying a secret to Peter if you're planning on being official with Egon?"

I shuffle around the kitchen, feigning thirst to avoid answering the question. "I don't know yet, Monica. The situation is so weird already."

"If you are serious about Egon, about having a public, official relationship, you will need to tell Peter. Trust me; it would be worse for him to find out later. He will find out later if you don't tell him presently."

"I am fully aware of that." 

Monica shrugs, "I don't mean to be pushy. I don't want to see you hurt."

I sit down across the table from her, "I know, and I love you for caring so much. I'm just exhausted over everything. I hate to hurt others' feelings. You know that."

She smiles, "I know what would make you feel better. Put a smile back on that beautiful face of yours."

"What?" I tilt my head, wondering what she's implying.

"You should call him," Monica nods towards the phone.

"Egon?" I turn back towards the cabinets.

"Who else?" she snorts, "You should tell him you're officially available and ready to officially not be once again."

I giggle, "I've never called him before."

"Well, if he's going to be your boyfriend, you'll have to get used to it. I spend way too many hours on the phone with Michael. But you know that already."

Shaking my head, I look towards where our phone is sitting. "I don't even have his number."

Monica looks at me like I've grown an extra head, "You're joking. He's Ray's roommate (y/n). You have his number."

"That's... true." 

***

The phone rings twice before I hear the click of someone picking up.

"Hello?" Ray's voice comes through the phone.

"Ray, it's (y/n)."

"Oh, hi (y/n). Did you need something?"

"Um--" Suddenly, I feel very elementary school kid asking to talk to their classmate, "Is Egon there?"

"He's in his room. Why?"

"Could I speak to him?" I twirl the phone cord on my finger.

Silence answers me until Ray collects himself, "Yeah, one second." I hear a distant yell of 'Egon!' in the background and then the passing of the phone from one set of hands to another.

"Hello?"

"Egon," his name comes out of my mouth breathily.

"(y/n)?"

"I ended things with him... but I didn't say anything about the mark."

Egon makes what I assume is a sound of amusement, "You left the tough conversation for me."

"You did offer to speak with him," I grin like a fool. 

"I did, and I will."

"Okay. Thank you."

More silence. 

"You're welcome." The tone of his voice has softened. My heart leaps again.

"I'll... I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Egon."

"Goodnight, (y/n)."

[ddarker-dreams]

Familial Obligations. Yan Childe x Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and forced relationships.   Word count: 1.6k. 

Synopsis: Childe finally gets to meet your family. (Can be considered a continuation of the Contractual Obligations universe or its own thing). 

You’ve always loved your mother’s cooking.

Liyue’s restaurants of varying cuisines have a special appeal, yet none can come close to the mouthwatering goodness that is a homecooked meal. Tonight is no different. The spread laid out is comparable to a feast, with numerous piping hot dishes on top of the dining room table and the finest silverware brought out for the occasion. 

This particular set is missing a few pieces that have been substituted for a cheaper lookalike. You remember the day your parents mournfully chose to sell some of the teacups and plates to make ends meet, a decision made after many restless nights over finances. It serves, in part, as a silent reminder of what it is you’re intending to accomplish with him. To give your parent’s freedom from money-related stress. 

You’ve always loved your mother’s cooking, but this evening, you can’t muster up an appetite.

Childe sits by your side, having purposefully chosen a dish that didn’t require the usage of chopsticks. Had it not been for the severity of the situation, you might have laughed at the absurdity that is his inability to use an eating utensil. Something tells you he wouldn’t appreciate that right now. For whatever godforsaken reason, Childe is utterly obsessed with the thought of making a good impression on your family; if only he acted so upstanding as he is now with you. Not that it’d make a difference now that you’ve witnessed his true colors firsthand.

However, it seems there’s even a limit to what Childe’s charisma and quick wit can accomplish. There’s no missing the painfully tense atmosphere hanging in the air of your humble residence. How your mother’s stressed to accommodate Childe in any way possible, your father’s notably casual and bland conversation topics, how even your temperamental sister has hardly uttered a single word. You weren’t looking forward to this dinner by any stretch of the imagination, but by the Archons, is this awful. You’ve grown accustomed to Childe’s unfortunate presence in your life, never did you imagine your family would be forced to endure the same.  

It’s not like you can blame them for being nervous. They are sitting directly across from the Fatui’s infamously bloodthirsty 11th Harbinger, who everyone in Liyue knows oversees the debt collection unit. They were likely expecting a visit from him at some point seeing as they’ve been unable to meet all the payments for the Northland Bank loan taken out a few months back, but not under these conditions. You’re not sure who was more speechless when he introduced himself as your partner: you, or your parents.

It’s almost over, you remind yourself through clenched teeth. Just need to make it through another hour, give or take…

Your younger sister, Chunghua, continues picking at the food on her plate as she speaks up. “Say, Master Childe, can I ask you a question?”  

The aforementioned male perks up at finally being addressed by your sibling whereas your parents shoot her an incredulous stare.

“Of course. Though, if I might add, there’s no need to be so formal with me. Childe or Tartaglia works just fine.” He gives a reassuring smile, your stomach twisting at the sight. Childe is… actually being genuine. You’ve seen what it looks like when he’s forcing a friendly disposition, but now is not one of those times; he’s almost like an entirely different person. Almost… normal. It’s a jarring thing to see. If not a bit relieving, knowing that he likely won’t pull anything while seeking out your family’s approval.

“Er, right. Well, I was wondering,” she scrunches her eyebrows together as if trying to find the exact words, “Why is it that you’re interested in [First] of all people?”

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve been offended by the insinuation, but you recognize the thinly veiled message. She must not buy the happy couple act the two of you (mostly him), are putting on. Luckily, Childe doesn’t know your sister as well as you do and takes it at face value. Or, if he does notice, decides not to comment on it.

“I had seen them around Liyue one or two times, but our first meeting was what really caught my attention. That’s when I learned how enjoyable they were to be around.” Childe explains, taking another bite of his soup. You want nothing more than to roll your eyes at the lackluster account of your initial meeting. Truth be told, there were times you wonder if you had made the right decision, given your current predicament.

Some Fatui had been harassing a longtime friend of yours over an unpaid debt. You, in all your infinite wisdom, stepped in fully prepared to wield your Vision and weapon if need be. Childe had emerged from the shadows to calm the tension in the air before it could get to that point. Ever since then, your life has made a drastic turn for the worse. If you had simply kept walking on that day, could all of this grief have been avoided? Though it does no good to think about it now.

Chunghua frowns and turns to scrutinize you with her eyes next. Her expression screams the phrase “Really? This is who you decide to bring home?”, totally oblivious to the fact you had no say in this circumstance whatsoever.

Your mother clears her throat, attempting to alleviate the friction forming in the air. “W-whatever the case, we’re most honored to have you as a guest. I’m sure you must have a busy schedule.”

“I’m the one who is honored here, Mrs. [Last]. I can’t thank you enough for your outstanding hospitality. The people of Liyue are as welcoming as they say.”

The rest of dinner passes in a similarly courteous manner, much to your internal relief.

Right before you two made to leave, Childe gave your parents and sister what you begrudgingly admit to be generous gifts. A finely aged wine for your father, an expensive hairpin for your mother, and a basket of Liyue’s most sought after sweets for your sister. You’ve heard the rumors of people waiting in line all night to make it in the store before they sold out in minutes and wonder how he managed to pull that off. He likely assigned some unfortunate underling to the task.

“That went well, don’t you think?” Childe hums, wrapping a wiry arm around your shoulders. You tense and think of your next words carefully. He doesn’t seem to mind when you respond with tasteful sarcasm, whatever that means, but you know tonight was a big deal to him. It’d be best not to push your luck.

“I think so, yeah,” you wrack your brain to consider the few positive occurrences tonight. “The gifts were a nice touch.”

He gives an airy laugh that you recognize as forced. “I wonder if that’ll be enough to make your sister stop with those spiteful glares.”

So he did notice. It didn’t matter how many times your mom kicked Chunghua under the table, Childe was bound to pick up on it with how freakishly perceptive he is. You were mixed between pride at Chunghua’s judge in character and dread at how he might respond, should he perceive it as a transgression. You’ve been put on blast for less. Anxiety floods your veins at the thought of anything bad happening to your sister, bile rising in your throat. Appease him somehow, you tell yourself.

“She’s never been the best with strangers. Give her some time. Besides, you know how siblings can be.” You attempt to shrug off her behavior to avoid any possible repercussions. Never did you expect to actively be comforting a sulking Childe — just the thought alone makes you want to gag — yet here you are. Doing just that to keep your family safe. The world is nothing if not consistent in how cruel it is to you.  

“Indeed I do. Not to brag, but I’m rather good with kids, so I’m sure she’ll come around eventually,” he squeezes you in an unwanted half hug. “I must admit, it takes guts to glare at a Harbinger. Consider me thoroughly impressed.”

At least you don’t need to worry about Chunghua’s wellbeing anytime soon. If there’s anything you’ve learned during your time with Childe, it’s that the little victories that matter. Anything that keeps the heat off your family is worth celebrating. A deep sigh leaves your lips, exhaustion eating away at you from the inside out. After all the stress you just went through, you’ll sleep like a rock tonight if Childe leaves you alone long enough to.

While you walk side by side in silence, you notice the looks your fellow Liyue citizens are giving, though it’s mostly directed towards Childe. Everyone knows who he is. What he does, what he’s capable of doing. You used to find it humiliating — especially since he insists on always touching you — now you’re numb to the dirty stares. They know nothing of your situation, so why should you bring yourself to care?

Childe’s vice-like grip suddenly loosens, his hands going behind his head. You’re grateful for the newfound space.

“I’ll be introducing you to my family once my work here in Liyue is finished. Snezhnaya might sound treacherous from what you’ve heard, but it’s rather beautiful depending on where you go. Ah, I have so much to show you!”

He gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his dull, cruel eyes. “You don’t mind, do you?”

There’s no point in arguing with the devil incarnate.

“Of course not.”