#bright pink is necessary to the art process it just feels Weird if i try to use another colour until after ive finished the lineart

[phfbmoved]

yr art trademark is the pink sketch +

HELL YEAH i literally Cannot draw if it’s not #fe02eb

[oversimplify-it]

Story Process Tag by @herpixels​

I was tagged by @dynastiasimss​ - Thank you so much for tagging me!! 😊💖💗 This will most definitely get a bit wordy because I’m terrible at explaining things concisely! 😂 Also, I’ll mostly be talking about my process for 2.B.A Grandmaster but I’ll touch on my process for Erin in San Myshuno too!

I’m also going to get tags out of the way up here so that no one has to scroll all the way through this ... absolute novel that is under the cut LMAO so I tag: @cyansimblr  @x-simss @matchacake and any other simblrs who wanna do this!! and feel free to skip if you want!

1. Your writing process My writing process is very, very chaotic, and changes with the wind... Erin in San Myshuno doesn’t really have a process, I just play the game and then put in some dialogue based on the events. None of it is guided by my hand at all though! 2.B.A Grandmaster on the other hand is written in part based on what happens in game and in part by my own creative vision. Most of the time, I let stuff happen, and then fill in the blanks in between events. I go in game, play Sims as I normally would (skill build, take care of needs, go out to venues, etc.) and then watch what weird and interesting things happen. For example, Augusta’s meeting with Xavier in the beginning was completely the game’s doing! He was the only one to show up for the Welcome Wagon event, so I rolled with that. Scenes like Kaitlin’s meeting with Maverick and those sort of things are planned by me, as they’re necessary to create a more full narrative! It’s like collaborative storytelling, but my “partner” is a game that is weird and random and crazy. 😂 After stuff happens in game and I get screenshots, I then actually write for it. I chose to write novel style for the series because - as some of my long-term followers may remember - I had another story that was just screenshots with dialogue on them? And it was very hard, LOL, it didn’t suit my workflow very well and I ended up dropping it after a month or so. I wanted 2.B.A Grandmaster to be something I could post consistently, and so I opted for a style that I was more familiar and experienced with!

2. Scene building For the most part, I just work with what sims gives me, but as I mentioned above, some scenes I actually go to the trouble of setting up. For those, I still use the sims animations mostly (I’ve used poses about 3 times in 2.B.A Grandmaster so far) but I do usher my sims around the "set” as I see fit. I build a lot of my own lots and locations for 2.B.A GM because I tend to get a vision in my mind of what I want and refuse to settle for less. 😂 One such case is the scene where Maverick meets up with Octavia--

I made the alleyway we see here - it’s two entirely empty buildings sandwiched side by side on an otherwise empty lot in Oasis Springs. The only part I bothered to decorate was the alley itself because I knew I wasn’t going to use the rest of the area, but maybe we’ll revisit it sometime and I’ll finish the two buildings! I actually loved making this set and like how it turned out, LOL~

Then I just have whatever sims are involved in a scene interact with each other for ages until I feel like I have enough screenshots to make a scene. I usually have a vague idea of what’s going to be said in any given scene - especially the ones I actually planned out beforehand - but I get some excess screenshots to be safe. I try lots of different interactions and pause like every few frames to get interesting expressions and stuff, LOL. Lots of “Complain about Cold Weather” and “Give fake bad news” ...

3. CC/Pose making I don’t actually make my own CC for 2.B.A GM specifically (I’ve made a couple eyeshadows but I don’t use them super frequently) but there is a scene coming up in the future that I plan to make poses for. I have a very clear image in my mind that includes a lot of subtle expressions and very specific things that I doubt I could find poses for, so I’m gonna have to brave the terrifying landscape of blender in order to make it a reality. 😧

4. Getting in the zone I don’t have any sort of “ok, show time” ritual like some people do but I wish I did, because my motivation waxes and wanes so unpredictably. Some days I just don’t feel like doing anything, and other days I edit and write for 5 posts in a row! I am always listening to something though, usually music, every once in a blue moon a video with lots of talking. 5. Screenshot folder

UGH... 

6. Captions I don’t do captions on 2.B.A GM posts, but for my city living gameplay I do! I keep them simple, because I don’t want to make it too much work for myself. Erin in San Myshuno’s style of editing is 100% based around ease, because I wanted something to post often that didn’t put too much of a strain on me. Verdana in white, typically 35-40 px, with a gradient border. Each sim we encounter has a different gradient color, usually based on their outfit or just the ~vibe~ I get from them. Erin’s gradient is Hot pink to ... gee, what would you call it. Sonic the Hedgehog Blue LMAO-- I chose that gradient because that’s the color of the overlay, which I’ll talk more about in the next section!

7. Editing My two ‘series’ - and I use that term loosely LMAO - have different editing processes, so I’ll try to summarize them both. Basically, for 2.B.A Grandmaster, I touch up the saturation and brightness depending on the scene. If it’s evening in the shots, I usually won’t touch brightness, and if it’s night, I might even lower it a bit for more accurate lighting! Once that’s done, I blur everything but relevant elements of a scene, usually the character we’re following or who is speaking. I have to select the character from the background manually which takes a bit, but other than that it’s very minimal.

My shots aren’t super glamorous, but I prefer simple screenshots and actually being able to keep up with a story schedule as opposed to what happened with my last story. 😬 As for Erin in San Myshuno, barring captions which I only do when I feel it’s necessary, it’s literally just an overlay on otherwise untouched screenshots. 😭 I would do more, but again, it’s supposed to be an easy downtime sort of series for me so~

This goes over top all screenshots on the “Add” setting at 20% opacity. It brightens things up and softens them, as well as making the colors slightly more harmonious! If anyone wants me to go more in depth on editing, or maybe captions, please let me know! I’m happy to talk about it if it’ll help anyone, and I know that a lot of tutorials cover how to do stuff in Photoshop, whereas I use FireAlpaca (which is 100% free btw! It’s more of an art program, but not bad for editing) 8. Throwback!

Oh boy, so this is one of my first posts on simblr. For starters, I didn’t know about camera mode at the time, so that’s the first thing I would change obviously LOL. 😬 The framing I did at the time was ... cute, but it makes the pictures feel kind of cramped and small in my opinion, so I did away with that for all of my later stories. Also, Amy and Gemma aren’t very well centered in this picture! Other than that, this isn’t actually terrible I don’t think, so aside from maybe blurring the background as I do on 2.B.A GM now, I wouldn’t change too much! Thankfully, I had observed other people’s stories before making my own on here for a little bit, so I wasn’t starting with absolutely no idea what to do, but I still think I’ve improved since I made these. 😊

This was a ton of fun!! If anyone has questions or wants more info on anything I covered in here, absolutely feel free to ask, and thank you so much if you actually read through all of this - I know I rambled for quite a while!! 🙏

[disaster-fruit]

could you tell us more about the brarg family au with the 3 babies and trans luci?

I definitely can! This au has been living rent free in my head since i started that drawing and I was actually sketching more stuff for the AU right before I got this ask so- I definitely can ramble more about it

This was supposed to be just a collection of a few hcs and now it’s a multi-pages word document the size of a fanfic so – Im really sorry.

I didn’t think a lot about their backstories tbh, though I have it in my mind that Luciano transition in his late teens and that he and martin either met after that or knew each other before luciano came out, lost all contact, and then met again after (and you can blame oxiosas fic for that yeah im not even subtle)

But I imagine them having some sort of meet cute and kinda progressing really fast in their relationship without realizing – yk, its just a fling, no big deal, yeah ive met his parents, yes I basically spend every weekend in his apartment, yeah I have a spare key now, ops I guess we’re adopting dogs and plants together- oh I think we’re married. Yeah. We’re married.

Ok but for real Luci does the proper proposal-with-a-ring-and-knelt-down-on-a-special-day thing and Martin is just bright red saying yes over and over again

It is Afonso (port) the first to be all WHERE ARE MY GRANDCHILDREN like… the night of their wedding.

They live in a house in a not too big city with two dogs, one cat, one parrot and all the birds that Luciano feeds and names that aren’t actually theirs. Still, they choose the house with two spare rooms because they always talked about having two kids.

In this AU they can buy a nice house and don’t have to worry about money and can raise kids like the world isn’t ending.

I think right after they got married they got in line for adoption. However, everything indicated that it would take a long long time so they started talking about the possibility of trying to have a biological kid. I think luci was the one to suggest it when he noticed martin had been thinking about it but not saying anything for a while.

Lots of boring doctor visits and confused doctors looking at luciano and trying to process it like the dumb cishets they are. Boring exams and all that, but everything is on track eventually, luci pauses his hrt and keeps his jockstrap on the drawer and they’re googling the best positions for fertility on those weird cishet sites and doing it like bunnies etc etc

Getting pregnant the natural way after years of testosterone is not the easiest thing in the world, so it takes a while. But eventually it works.

Both of them are kinda freaking out with this whole first pregnancy thing. Martin is the ultimate protective husband, and spends way too much time on the internet finding out what luciano can and can’t eat, what exercises he should do, and going to every single doctor visit. He’s very committed to it.

Luciano has to drink non-alcoholic beer and hates life. There’s a single teardrop shed every time he buys it. And drinks a lot of lemonade like it’s the same as caipirinha. Poor guy. Martin doesn’t help on that, life isn’t fair, he buys his own beer.

But he also has to drive absurd lengths to find the weirdest fruit or make the most hideous, blasphemous pizza toppings because Luciano is constantly craving absurd shit. But poor baby actually really NEEDS that chicken M&M pizza at 8am.

They’re super proud daddies though, and both their instagrams at this point are just baby belly pictures. Luci had top surgery on this au on my hc so also. Lots of shirtless pics. He looks like an old uncle with a beer belly and he’s PROUD. Just. Baby bellies all over.

Martin picks the entire baby layette. Because of course he does.

Their baby shower is a huge deal though. Their dads are there, Antonio brings an entire trunk filled with diapers and tells everyone how many tincho used to need when he was a baby, Afonso is cooking for everyone and talking about how he’s gonna be a grandfather (!!!). Iracema (pindorama) is scolding Luci about his bad habits while also quietly being a super proud grandma. Zola (angola) bought toys because she knows that’s what kids actually like, Samero (Mozão) keeps asking if they installed all the necessary security stuff in their house – we will, chill, we still have some months to go – Vera (Tomé) is teasing Simão (Timor) about him no longer being the family baby, Fatima (g.bissau) is another one who bought a huge amount of diapers, Rosinha (cabo verde) is taking pictures of everyone and everything, Sebas and Dani are discussing if the kid should speak Portuguese or Spanish, Maria brought a huge pink plushy as a gift, it’s quite a party.

Once they’re late in the pregnancy, Luciano mostly spends his time on Martin’s oversized t-shirts asking for foot rubs and not getting much sleep because the baby keeps moving. Martin on the other hand is a little nervous about being a dad, but absolutely loves feeling the little kicks and talking to the baby all the time, except when its 3am and he wants to sleep but Luci cant because of it so he just does his best to keep him company. He mostly ends up falling asleep on his chest though and doesn’t help much

I wrote all of this but I still don’t have a name for the girl lol Anyway, she’s finally born, and if martin was overprotective when Luciano was pregnant, he’s ten times more with his baby girl. Tbh theyre both kinda going crazy with this whole parenting thing, both are overprotective, tired, and have no idea what theyre doing.

Zola and Sebastian are the girl’s godparents. Sebastian isn’t very good with kids so when he takes care of his niece he either puts on a tv show and lets her eat whatever crap she wants, or relies on Daniel to do the actual taking care, since he is good with kids.

Luciano and Martin are very much neurotic first-timers and have all this schedule of what their girl can eat and when and when she has to sleep etc etc.

When Zola takes care of her, she just ignores it and does it her way. She helped raised Luci since he was a baby anyway, he survived just fine and even married and reproduced, she knows what to do better than both the dumbasses, and they never even find out.

Afonso on the other had follows everything when he’s with his granddaughter, determined to be a better grandfather than he was a father, and the baby loves him so he’s doing a good job.

They’re a very cute family yes yes

She grows up well and happy, a bit shy maybe but very smart and sweet, loves the dogs and her aunts and uncles and granddads (afonso more than antonio though)

By the way, Iracema is soft like butter with her granddaughter.

When she’s about four or five years old they start talking about having a second one, considering the age difference and all. So back to doctors, Luci stops the hrt again and they go back to trying, but again it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do it naturally after years of hrt.

But god listens to the prayers of such good catholic family, and right after they start thinking about a second child, they receive the news they will finally get to adopt a baby.

Luciano is the one to receive the news, he’s working at home when the social worker comes to tell him they can finally adopt. He’s extremely happy, he hugs the poor lady and is barely able to concentrate as she explains the paperwork that is left and the details of it because he can’t stop smiling.

He immediately texts martin saying something like “CALL ME RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO TALK” and it’s in happy caps but martin understands it wrong and thinks someone is dying or dead but then his phone is what dies so he gets home as fast as he can thinking all the worst scenarios just to find luciano jumping on him with a smile for ear to ear. It’s such a shock he takes a while to react but when he does you have two idiots so happy they can’t function.

It’s another girl, she has big brown eyes like her sister and it’s a few months old.

They quickly reassemble the crib and paint the second room to get everything ready in time to take her home, and the next week or so it’s nothing but all the family visiting to meet their new baby.

Since they managed to adopt, they decided to stop trying to have another kid. Luciano goes back to the doctor do some routine exams so that he can go back to testosterone and the doctor just awkwardly explains that, well, that won’t be exactly possible. Not for the next eight months, at least.

He’s quite shocked at that, and takes him a while to tell martin. They just got a new baby and do they even have space to raise three kids? Eventually it just escapes from him and martin is shocked as well, but ultimately both of them are just worried about their place being too small, and once they relax about that they can’t shut up about having another baby on the way to anyone.

Still, it’s not easy to manage, martin is just as worried as he was with their eldest, except that this time he’s simultaneously worried about their new baby and about Luci’s pregnancy. Poor dude needs a break asap. So he’s trying to do most of the work of caring for a little baby to spare luciano from the stress, while also taking care of him as well as he did the other time.

Luci is more chill about being pregnant, he’s done this before, he’s fine. He’s even a little too chill about it, as shown in the art, he still wants to carry their kid on his shoulder and having a few sips of martin’s beer is no big deal and honestly he’s fine, he can help with the baby, and Tincho just needs to relax and it will all be fine.

Again, poor tincho needs a break.

Some things don’t change though. Them being super proud daddies who do nothing but take pictures of their kids and Luci’s belly every chance they get. And they’re really happy and excited to have their house full and this big family.

Just a good cute family AU where nothing bad ever happens thank you very much.  Yet it took me almost 2k words to say it. I have no self control and I’m very sorry. However, if anyone has their own hcs to add about this whole au, I will be more than happy to hear and talk about this AU even more than I’ve already done.

[quickspinner]

Take a Chance - Ch 1 First Meetings

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Summary: Lukanette college AU.  It all starts with a little mix-up. One look in her notebook and Luka is intrigued. One look in her eyes - and he’s in love.

This story came from the prompts for the first week of Lukanette September 2019. I was still pretty new to posting my stories and I wasn’t confident committing to the whole month but I figured, I could manage a week!

This story is complete on AO3

Marinette didn’t get a lot of phone calls, and she never got calls in the middle of the day. She stumbled a bit as she tried to get her phone out and walk at the same time. The number on the screen wasn’t a known contact, but it looked familiar. Wasn’t that Juleka’s number? But then why wouldn’t it show up under Juleka’s name? Frowning, she answered the call, trying not to sound too breathless. “Hello?”

“Uh, hi, I’m looking for Marinette?” The voice was male, so, definitely not Juleka. 

“I’m Marinette,” she said cautiously. 

“Cool, I’m Luka, I’m Juleka’s brother? I think we might have met once a few months back.”

“O-oh,” Marinette stammered, confused. 

“Jules gave me your number because I have something of yours and I’m kinda hoping you have something of mine. A plain black notebook that basically looks exactly like yours, except mine has music inside instead of clothes. Sound familiar?”

“Oh gosh—um, hang on, let me check.” Marinette dug through her bag and pulled out her sketchbook. She flipped it open and her stomach dropped as she found that it wasn’t hers at all. It was full of music notations and scribbled notes that might have been song lyrics. “Yes, I have it,” she confirmed. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz. You live with Juleka right? I was over there this morning and I knocked over a stack of things and I thought I put it all back but I must have switched these. I hope you didn’t need it, I’m so sorry—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Luka said, soothingly, a touch of amusement in his warm voice. “As long as you have it, that’s fine. I do kind of need it tonight though, is there somewhere I can meet you and trade?”

“Um, let me think. I’m on my way to class now...it’s Tuesday, so my next break is at 3.”

“Okay, I’m in class until 3:30, but I could meet you right after? Um...there’s a coffee shop near the music building, do you know it? I can’t remember the name, but it has a red awning. I can meet you there after my class is over.”

“That sounds perfect,” Marinette agreed. “I know the place, I’ll meet you there.”

“Great.” Luka seemed to hesitate. “Okay, I hope this isn’t weird, but I was wondering if I could look at some more of your sketches? I only saw a few before I realized it wasn’t mine and found your name, but they looked really cool and I’m really curious to see the rest.”

Maybe it was a little weird, but it was also flattering. Marinette appreciated that he asked instead of just snooping through and not mentioning it. “Um, sure, there’s nothing really personal in it, just designs for one of my classes.”

“All art is personal,” Luka said easily, and then she heard someone calling to him. “Shit, you’re right,” he said, voice a bit distant before returning. “Marinette, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go before I’m late. I’ll see you a little after 3:30.”

“Okay, see you then,” Marinette replied, half expecting him to hang up before she finished speaking. 

Instead she heard, “See you soon, Marinette,” before the line cut out. 

***

Luka headed to the coffee shop with a quicker step than strictly necessary after escaping yet another boring, pedantic lecture from his least favorite professor. He hadn’t even heard half of it, fascinated by the book in his hand. He knew less than nothing about fashion in general and even less than that about the process of design, but there was so much life in the sketches covering the pages of the misplaced notebook. He couldn’t judge her talent, but Marinette’s passion was clear and he was curious about the girl behind the designs.

He found her easily enough, sitting in a booth facing the cafe’s entrance, his composition book placed prominently towards the edge of the table. For a moment, he felt disappointment. He wasn’t sure what he expected, and there was nothing wrong with her exactly, but...she didn’t really stand out, dressed in shades of pink and black, sweet but without any of the edge he’d seen in her art. 

But it wasn’t like him to judge on appearances and he silently berated himself as he made his way over to the table. “Marinette?”

Then she looked up and locked eyes with him, and the deep blue of the sea fell into the endless blue of the sky and he swore he heard music.  

***

Marinette had met Juleka’s brother once before, if you could call a hurried introduction and hello-goodbye a meeting, as he was rushing out to perform with his band. All she was really left with was the impression of blue, and lean muscles highlighted by body glitter.

She could see neither muscle nor glitter at the moment, but the blue was there, in his eyes and the tips of his shaggy hair. He wasn’t classically handsome but he had an interesting face, and she thought to herself that she’d like to dress him. It would be a nice change from cookie cutter models and he looked like he had a fun style. 

He smiled and gestured at the empty bench across from her. “I’m Luka. May I?”

“Oh sure, of course,” she said quickly, shuffling her things ineffectually before realizing there was plenty of room. He slid in across from her, sleepy eyes a deeper shade of blue than her own fixed on her. She blushed faintly without really knowing why and his eyes flicked away. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “I hope It wasn’t too far out of your way.”

“No, it wasn’t too far, and I’ve gotten some work done, so it’s all good. I’m so sorry about the mixup.”

He took her book out of his bag and slid it across the table towards her. “Thanks for letting me look at it. Way more interesting than my music theory class.”

“Oh,” Marinette blushed deeper. “A-are you interested in fashion?”

“No,” he admitted. “Honestly I never thought about it much, I just wear things that are comfortable and make me feel good. But I am interested in art, and I can see now that fashion is art too. So, thanks. For...a new perspective, I guess.”

Marinette couldn’t help smiling, there was something so sincere about the way he said it. He must have a really interesting way of looking at the world. 

Which maybe shouldn’t surprise her so much. Juleka was hardly known for conventional thinking. 

“I wish I could get as much from yours,” Marinette said, gesturing towards his notebook where it still lay on the table. “Not—not that I looked through it or anything, but just what I saw when I opened it, It’s only gibberish to me, I’m afraid.”

Luka smiled slowly. “You think so?” For a moment Marinette was afraid she’d insulted him, but he only took his notebook up and turned the pages for a moment. Then he laid it back down and turned it so she could see the open pages. “What do you see here?”

She looked, and at first it was only gibberish, as she’d said, a mix of notes and musical terms, with occasional notes that made sense but didn’t, like “dark, flash flood, drowning.” Marinette glanced up at Luka, who was watching her with a small smile on his face. She looked down at the page again, and this time she noticed the dark lines and deep grooves, the places where things were not just crossed out, but scratched through or scribbled black. The whole feel of the page was frustration, maybe even anger. “This,” she said slowly, looking up at him. “This was not a good day.”

Luka’s smile widened. “See? You can’t read the notes, but the feelings still come through. I felt the same way about yours.” Marinette slid the notebook back to him, smiling herself. “Can I ask you something?” Luka asked. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.” He gestured to her notebook again and she handed it back to him. He thumbed quickly through the pages until he found the one he wanted. He put it back down in front of her, watching her face. “What happened?”

The page was scribbled over with thick black marker lines, zigzagging across the dress that had been coming to life on the page. Beneath the thick scribbles, there were notes written around the sketch, some scratched out and some visibly messier than others. Marinette winced looking at it. “It couldn’t do what I wanted to,” she said, after staring at it for a moment. “It was...the dress wasn’t right for the concept, or the concept couldn’t be a dress at all, and the more I tried to fix it the more frustrated I got. Then my TA reviewed my work for the week and ripped me a new one over it, and...I just knew I wasn’t ever going to be excited over it again, so I scrapped it.”

She felt ashamed as she said it, like she was admitting she was a quitter, but Luka just nodded, as if she made perfect sense, then reached over and turned a couple of pages.

“Not that my opinion’s worth much, but this one was my favorite. It just has so much energy. It feels...hopeful. Like it’s waiting for great things to happen.” He glanced up at her, looking uncertain for the first time in their conversation. “I hope that came out right. I’m not always great at explaining things.”

Marinette just stared at him in wonder, a bright smile slowly spreading over her face. “No, I think you got exactly what I was thinking. It’s a first date dress, I mean, that’s what I was thinking when I made it.”

Luka nodded slowly. “Potential.”

Marinette beamed. “Yes, exactly.” She leaned on the table and put her chin on her fist, looking at him with renewed curiosity. He looked back for a minute, and then straightened abruptly.

“I think I’m going to get a drink, would you like anything?” Luka said, sliding from the booth.

Marinette blinked. “Um, yeah, that would be great. A cinnamon latte?” 

“Got it. Be right back.”

Marinette sat back as he walked away. 

He seemed nice.

***

Do you believe in love at first sight?

He’d heard the question many times before, usually from people trying to pick him up after performances, but until now he’d been largely agnostic on the matter. It could happen, but I’ve never seen it.

Luka was a thorough believer now.

Of course he knew the term coup de foudre but he’d never known it was so...accurate. He’d never experienced a shock to his system like the one he’d felt when he locked eyes with Marinette.

They were supposed to just exchange books and go on their way. He was bad at small talk, he knew it, but jumping into such an intimate conversation hadn’t been his intention either. He fervently hoped he wasn’t scaring her off. He knew his natural intensity could be off putting when he was too focused on a single person, and right now he was very, very focused on Marinette.

Luka ordered the drinks in to go cups, just in case. 

When he returned with the drinks he felt a bit better. Marinette looked more comfortable and relaxed, and made no move to flee once he set her drink in front of her. 

When he was back in his seat, Marinette surprised him, asking, “So, um, is music your major or just a hobby?”

“Music Ed, actually,” Luka replied, wrapping his long fingers around his cup. 

“Really? You want to be a teacher?”

Luka chuckled. “I’d like to be a musician and not starve. Honestly, I’d like to give private lessons so I can work one on one with the kids and still work on my own music.”

“I remember you play in a band,” Marinette said. 

“Yeah, we’re playing this weekend actually.” Luka rummaged in his bag for the stack of fliers, grateful for the opening. He pulled one out and handed it to Marinette. “I’d love for you to come.” Her eyes met his again and he felt that same shock run through his system. He wondered if she felt it too. 

He flexed his fingers, wishing for his guitar. 

[lunafeather]

otp meme, Brio, 4, 7, 28

4. Favorite non-sexual activity?

He realizes quickly that she doesn’t just bake for her kids’ sakes, she bakes when she’s angry, she bakes when she’s sad, she bakes when she’s stressed, she bakes for every possible holiday – even the made up, fuckin’ stupid ones, she bakes as an apology, she bakes to suck up, she bakes as a weapon.

She even bakes for fun.

So he learns just as quickly that if he wants to be around her, a lot of that time will be spent in her kitchen, pressed up against her back as she mixes, nipping down her neck as she spoons portions out before baking, watching – chin in hand – as she rolls and cuts and spices. She’s good at what she does, has expertly streamlined her processes, and it’s – it’s weird, it’s so fucking weird, but it turns him on. She goes into full boss bitch mode without even realizing it.

It helps that everything she makes is fucking amazing.

She tolerates him draping himself over her (she enjoys it, he knows she does, even if she denies it) because he is a willing test subject, eagerly devouring whatever new creation she concocts. He even helps her sometimes, if she bats her eyelashes just this way, or rolls her hips back against his groin just that way, or pushes up onto her toes and kisses him breathless that way she has a habit of doing.

And she even pays him back for his help, for his patience, by letting him put on whatever movie or tv show he wants and listening to him tear each one apart with icy criticisms and sharp condemnations, shutting him up as necessary with more of those kisses.

7. What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

If he thought it was impossible to not touch her before, now it’s like two magnets resisting their natural polarity. He starts to find any possible excuse to drift into her space, to let his palm find her hip, to breathe in her scent, to brush his nose against her hair or his finger against her cheek.

He just wants to be near her, wants to watch her smile stretch her lips, wants to hear that tinkling laugh, wants to see that blush explode across her skin.

Jesus, he needs to get a fucking grip.

When the urge to touch her all the damn time starts to get too intense, he pulls away, distancing himself, acting cold, ignoring her texts until she calls him out of pure frustration. He’s like a moon orbiting her, swinging closer into her atmosphere before gravity sends him away again. And yet, every time, he spends more and more time near her. He shows up at her house just to say hi (though he, of course, frames it as a drop in on her operation), orchestrates their paths “coincidentally” crossing, gives her more and more drops and more and more fake cash to wash.

She simply watches him warily, confusion etched onto her face.

- 

It hits her like a lightning bolt, cascading like sparklers across her skin from the top of her head down to her toes, and when it does, she runs.

They’re chatting in her backyard, sitting on her picnic bench, thighs and shoulders pressed together, laughing and joking and talking about anything but work. She gets a full belly laugh out of him (on purpose, this time) and turns to grin at him – and she’s struck, frozen, caught by the gleam of his teeth and the dark fan of his eyelashes and the rosy brightness of his cheeks. It all leaves her completely breathless, his laughter tingling at the back of her neck. When he calms a little and meets her eye, his grin fades to something softer, something affectionate and… and… yearning.

Rio reaches a hand up to her face, dragging his pinky against her forehead and down to her chin, a path that it knows all too well. This time, though, his thumb comes up to brush against her low lip and she’s – she’s –

She’s happy. She feels wanted, and cherished, and warm.

And it scares the shit out of her.

So she runs.

She can see the disappointment in his eyes when she pulls away, can see the confusion and the hurt – and she doesn’t want to hurt him, god no, but these feelings are so intense and so powerful and they feel so right.

And there’s no other option but to avoid him, after that. She’s embarrassed by her instincts to flee, she’s terrified that he doesn’t feel the same, she’s not worthy of this kind of connection. She keeps their meetings as brief and formal as possible, refusing to meet his eye, escaping as soon as she can. She refuses to meet with him alone, too scared of what she’ll do if she’s left to her own devices.

In the end, fate intervenes, somehow locking them in an elevator together – and she wants to die, right then and there, trying not to absorb the anger and distance and hurt in his eyes as he watches her from the opposite corner.

She doesn’t know who’s to blame except herself when she eventually launches herself at him, her frenzied kisses turning into muttered apologies and explanations and confessions, and then he’s kissing her slowly, agonizingly slowly, torturing her with it, and she knows she probably deserves it, but it’s okay, it’s okay, she’ll take it.

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

He’s never really considered himself a sentimental man, which is why he’s surprised that when Elizabeth leaves him her pearls, he tucks them safely away in a box shoved to the back of one of his dresser drawers, somewhere he knows Marcus won’t touch, somewhere he knows no unsuspecting woman will stumble on them and shower him with questions he can’t answer.

They remain undisturbed for months, almost forgotten – but every once in a while, his thoughts stray to the off white, almost pink tinted string of pebbles. He doesn’t take them from their refuge until the day he finds himself in her van, her panic over the FBI nipping at the edges of his patience, her wide eyed faux outrage at his suggestion that she tell Turner they were fucking striking him somewhere deep and twanging in his belly. He’d seen her blush spread from the curve of her cheekbones and spill down her neck to her collarbone, and his mind had immediately pictured those pearls there, clutching at her throat, kissing her skin the way he had increasingly felt the urge to.

He had gone home and carefully plucked the necklace out and let each pearl slip between his fingers, imagining her fingers between his instead, her strawberry blonde hair, the curls between her thighs….

If asked, he’d deny it vehemently, but whenever she does something that pisses him off, or makes him proud, or throws him completely off, he takes her pearls and winds them around his knuckles. When she wears a dress that frames her breasts like works of art, when she smiles at him like he’s the sun, when she teases him with her lips on his jaw and a bruise left in offering instead of her body – he moves the pearls from his closet to his bedside table, too often wandering into the small room now for it not to be suspicious to his son.

He doesn’t bring other women over anymore, so that fear is gone as well.

His boss bitch is the only one with him wrapped around her finger, like her pearls are wrapped around his.

-

He’s only gone for a day when she just can’t resist anymore. She dials his number as she wriggles into a comfortable position in bed, sighing deeply as sleep tugs at her mind. She’s sure this’ll seem desperate, that he’ll be annoyed, but she doesn’t care, she just wants to hear his voice, even if he’s upset –

“Miss me already, huh?”

Ahh, there it is, that honey thick warmth sliding through every one of her limbs as his low timbre croons in her ear. Her toes tingle, even.

Still, she can’t resist – “No. Not at all.”

“Nah?”

He doesn’t believe her; then again, he’s always been able to tell when she’s lying. She just didn’t realize that ability had extended to just hearing her voice and not watching her for her tells.

“Nope.”

Rio just hums, and he has to know what that sound does to her – she whimpers a little, tries to stifle it in her palm before it reaches her cell phone, but he definitely heard it if his throaty chuckle is anything to go by.

“I was just making sure you weren’t getting into any trouble.”

“That right? Gotta keep me in line, huh?”

“Mmhmm. God only knows what you get up to when I’m not around.”

“Probably get a lot more work done…” he mutters.

Beth sits up, affronted. “Excuse me?!”

“C’mon, mama. You know how distracting you are.”

She smiles, remembering the day before yesterday in his office when they’d been working side by side on separate business plans and she’d been unable to resist sliding her foot up his calf. It had turned into a game of him half-pretending to be annoyed and huffing and ended with her bent over the desk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh sure.”

They fall silent, listening to each other breathe, and it takes Beth a moment to realize she’s grinning brightly. She rolls onto her side, eyes falling on the pillow that his head occupies more often than not, these days.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” she admits quietly.

He doesn’t say anything at first, and she’s on the verge of apologizing and backtracking when he says, softly, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hang up.”

“What?”

“I said, hang up. Then don’t answer.”

“What are you–”

There’s a click, and the line goes dead. She holds the phone away from her face, looking at the screen just to be certain, and yep – he hung up on her. She’s about to dial him again and rip him a new one when her phone starts ringing. It’s him, calling back. Her finger hovers over the answer button, but she pauses, considering. Let’s it go to voicemail.

She waits a few minutes, surprised that it takes at least that long for her phone to ping with the notification of a new message. There isn’t time to listen to it before he’s calling again, and this time she answers.

“What was that?”

She can basically hear him shrug. “Just somethin’ to help you out, when you’re dyin’ from missing me so much.”

Beth rolls her eyes.

She listens to it later, smiling and curling into the pillow that smells a little bit like him. The voicemail is perfect, even if it is just Rio slowly explaining in minute detail every way he intends to touch her when he gets back, drawling over every word in that way he knows drives her crazy.

Maybe because that’s what it is.

Send me an OTP question!

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

Gruvia Big Bang Event Fic

Finally! The day has come where I get to post my fic for the Nalu/Gruvia Big Bang @nalugruviaevents​ and I’m so excited. @solafhusain​ and I decided on a 1940s/50s AU. It has been so wonderful working with you, friend! Your art is beautiful and it was a so great to be paired with you for this event. I hope we can collaborate some other time as well.

Also, thank you @rieriebee​ for helping us out with this and working with us to figure this all out. I know it was weird because I came in a little late so your patience and your help has been wonderful!

Anyways, everyone! You should go check out @solafhusain​ ‘s beautiful art for this story! She worked so hard on both pieces! I hope you enjoy! :)

New Normal

The house was quiet and dark. Gray pulled off his boots even before shutting the door behind him. Juvia was already halfway up the stairs by the time he managed to reach out and pull the little string to turn on the old side-table lamp.

“Where are you going?”  He asked. Juvia paused at the top of the stairs. He could just see her heels and legs from where he stood, and the edge of her dance skirt—blue, her favorite color.

“To bed,” she mumbled, before continuing down the hall, her heels clacking on the hardwood.

“That’s just swell,” Gray huffed, tossing his military-issued coat across the couch. The last thing he needed was his wife frustrated with him. Pulling the string once more, he plunged the living room into darkness and followed Juvia upstairs to the master bedroom. She was sitting on their bed, her dress already undone. Her satin sleeves were slipped off her shoulders, and she was carefully putting her pearl necklace away in her jewelry drawer. He watched her for a moment, wanting so badly to say something—anything—to break the dreadful silence, but nothing came to mind. When she dabbed away her bright red lipstick, it smeared across her cheek and that feeling in the pit of Gray’s stomach—that twisting, nauseous feeling—returned. Blood. He quickly looked away.

Juvia crawled into bed, but Gray sat on the edge, staring at the old picture on the wall. He, Natsu, Gajeel, Laxus, Jellal, and their Platoon.

***

They had all met that evening. The girls wanted to go dancing. They had a favorite dance club several blocks from Juvia and Gray’s home. They had walked arm-in-arm to the club that night, meeting their friends just outside the familiar wood door. The sound of swing music drifting through the cracks made Juvia’s eyes light up. Though Gray wasn’t exactly a fan of dancing, he was always ready to do something to make her smile.

“Are we ready?” Lucy had asked. Her blonde hair was curled into waves and pinned back to the side. She was wearing her own swing dress, quite like Juvia’s, but a soft pink instead of a satin blue.

“Come on,” Juvia practically dragged Gray into the club, following their friends. “Let’s dance!”

Gray hated drawing attention to himself, but Juvia was laughing, and he couldn’t say no to that sparkle in her blue eyes. He let her lead him out onto the dance floor. A live band was playing a quick jive. Gray spun Juvia once and then pulled her back in, close. For a moment it was just the two of them, but more people were coming into the club now that the work day was over. It was getting loud. Couples were chatting and dancing, and ordering drinks at the bar. The conversation grew into a buzz—noise that Gray still wasn’t used to. It suddenly felt too hot. In the confusion he accidentally bumped in Gajeel, who was dancing with Levy.

“Hey, Ice-brain, watch it,” Gajeel frowned.

“Sorry,” Gray choked, his voice hoarse and his throat dry. Someone was smoking a cigarette, or maybe several people. It was hot, and with each breath of smoke his pounding headache worsened. Suddenly, somewhere behind him, there was a terrible BANG—a sickening crack of shattering glass. Gray ducked, putting a hand over his head, and just like that he was back in the trenches. The blood of dozens of men was soaking into the mud at his ankles, above him the sky was dim. Eardrum-shattering explosions were sounding in the distance. Someone was screaming. Medic. Medic. Behind barbed wire he could make out the faces of friends. There was so much blood, so much blood.

When his head cleared enough for him to remember that he was at a club, all he could think of was that a gun had gone off. Someone was shot. He turned to his wife, grabbing her shoulders. “Juvia! Are you alright?!” His voice was possibly a little louder than necessary, rising above the live band.

“Juvia’s f-fine! Gray, what’s wrong?!” He scanned the room. His friends were all alright, though Natsu, Jellal, and Gajeel looked shaken. Then, he spotted it, in the corner of the room: a man leaning against the back wall—bright red blossoming through his white dress shirt. Still disconcerted, Gray dove towards the man, shoving people aside.

“Move! Move! Medic coming through.” Without pause, or hesitation, Gray got to work. His whole process came to him as naturally as brushing his hair in the morning. First, get the shirt out of the way—

“Hey!” The young man yanked away from Gray, glowering, “Get off me, crumb! What’s wrong with you?” Blood. The red on the man’s shirt was sickening, but it was no longer spreading. That’s when Gray noticed the wine glass in the gentleman’s hand. Gray’s stomach churned watching the red wine slosh in the glass as the man jerked away from Gray.

Air. I need air. He shoved his way out of the smoky room, his hands quivering, and once he was outside under the stars, free at last, he lost his dinner. Heaving against the side of the building his mind swam with only one memory: blood. There’s blood everywhere.

***

Gray shook his head, gripping the dog tags that hung around his neck he whispered, “Juvia… I’m sorry. Are you… angry?” He felt Juvia shift under the quilts behind him.

“Angry? No,” she whispered. “Juvia is worried. Gray… is it the war again?”

He wanted to say something, but it didn’t seem right. How could he bring that mess, all his new baggage, crashing down on top of her? I want to keep you safe, Juvia. Safe from what, he wasn’t sure. Himself? His nightmares? The truth?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, squeezing his dog tags one last time before throwing himself back on the bed and wrapping himself in their quilts. Tomorrow will be better.

***

He was back in the trenches. The ground shuddered beneath his feet. Gray leaned over, heaving, choking on his own breath. This is just a dream. It’s just a dream. Lightning lit up the barbed wire above him, and the sound of gunshots was engulfed with the sound of thunder. “Gray!!!” Someone was yelling his name. He turned, his hands clutched his rifle like it was his life line—his knuckles were white, his whole body trembling.

“Natsu?” But before Gray’s friend could reach him, a tidal wave of red rolled over the barbed wire, filling the trench. Blood. It rose quickly, above his waist, to his chest. He was going to drown. He struggled to climb the edge of the trench, but his hand only caught onto barbed wire. Natsu was still surging forward trying to reach them, but with one last splutter of blood over the trench walls, he was engulfed in the flood. Gray screamed, reaching for where his friend had disappeared, reaching for anything, anyone. This is just a dream! It’s just a— His vision went red, he couldn’t breath. Blood, blood—

“Gray!” Gray woke up with a shudder, jerking away from where Juvia was shaking him. He was sweating, his heart was pounding in his chest, he took in deep gulps of air, before he let himself remember that he was in his bedroom, at home, with his wife. Juvia looked terrified, her eyes were wide, her hands were shaking. “G-gray, you were screaming in your sleep.”

Gray shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. “It…” He glanced up at her, the way her curls framed her face… he suddenly just wanted to hold her and let it all out. His chest ached, like it was about to break open, and spill all his worries all his anxieties. “It’s the war.” He whispered, hardly able to get a word out before tears filled his eyes, he glanced away. He didn’t want to see her like this. He had always been the strong one. Always. A warm hand reached out and touched his shoulder. This time he didn’t shove her away. He let her pull him into her embrace. He rested his head against her shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume, and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered, “Juvia is always here for you.”

Gray held his breath for a moment. Maybe he had been keeping it in for too long. He had avoided talking to her about the war for weeks now, but the nightmares kept getting worse. He pulled her closer, nodding against her neck.

“Yeah. I think I need to talk about it.”

So he told her everything. Everything about the war, about his dreams, about how every time the neighbors worked on their backyard shed—every time someone hammered a nail into that stupid roof—he thought a gun was going off. He told her how sometimes he could only see blood in the color red. The way her lipstick smeared when she wiped it off, the way red wine pooled when it was spilled. He told her how he hated it, he hated himself.

“I thought coming back home would fix things, that everything would go back to normal,” he whispered, still clinging to her, “But nothing has gone back to normal. Nothing.”

“Gray,” Juvia said, pressing a hand to his cheek. “It may not be normal like it used to be, but it’s a new normal. You know that Juvia will always be here for you.” He didn’t answer, not sure how to tell her that even if they did get through this together, there would still be nightmares, there would still be blood in his vision. He didn’t know how to wipe it away. But Juvia pulled away from his embrace to look him in the eyes. “Loud noises? We don’t need to go out—not to a club. We can dance here. Wine? Juvia will only drink water,” she whispered, her smile almost contagious. “Red lipstick? Juvia won’t wear it ever again. Juvia doesn’t need lipstick, and wine, and loud parties to be happy, Gray. Juvia only needs you.” She paused, resting her forehead against his before she spoke again, “Juvia promises to do everything possible to prevent these dreams, to help you smile again.”

Gray let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and then leaned in to kiss her, brushing his hand through her curls and cupping the back of her head. When he pulled away he smiled. “You’re something else,” he whispered, still inches apart from her.

But something was still bothering him. It wasn’t the dream, or the spilled wine, or his shaking hands. He pulled away from her embrace and stood, in his pajamas and held out his hand expectantly. Juvia looked up at him, bewildered.

“Gray?”

“I owe you a dance,” he said. He watched as her lips turned up in a smile and she took his hand. He pulled her up into his arms, her nightgown swishing around her knees, and he led her around the small space of their bedroom. It wasn’t a swing dance, it was slower, but neither of them cared. Gray took comfort in her touch, her soft hands, the way her blues eyes shone with an overwhelming love. He felt his chest swell with warmth, and he paused in their turn about the room to kiss her again.

“Gray?” She murmured against his lips, as they stood together in the middle of their room, “Juvia loves you, more than anything. Please, always remember that.”

There was blood in his vision, blood on his hands, and he was trying to wash it away for good. But everything was okay because of her. Like a Summer rain she would wash away the grime, the dirt, the dust, even if it took years. Juvia is here. He smiled, pressing his forehead against hers once more.

“I love you too.”

[lilaswordsandthings]

That’s What Friends Are For Ch. 3

  Tagging all the usual suspects (if you want to join that list just reply and tell me so) @illegalcerebral @dontshootmespence @stunudo@reid-effect  

Chapter 3: Becca’s Daughter

 A few hours later, when they finally landed in Las Vegas and got to their hotel, the first thing they did was call Garcia from Reid’s room.

 “Hey Pen, you’re on speaker. Did you find anything that might give us a clue about what happened to Rebecca Thompson?” JJ asked.

 “Unfortunately, my pretties, what I found leads us to few answers and more questions. First of all, she did, in fact, teach part-time at the same Fine Arts school she attended in the early 2000s, but here’s where things get weird. Eight months ago she moved to a different apartment, in a different building, in another part of the city. Her most recent address was much further away from both the university and her parents’ restaurant. Then all of a sudden about six months ago she left the university, stopped working at the restaurant, and started living off her savings. It looks like she basically became a hermit, but she did some paintings of hers from an online gallery she created but she put all of that money in a savings account that seems to have been set up for that express purpose. Once the payments were deposited she never touched them.”

 “Why would she move away and quit the job she loved?” Reid asked.

 “I have no idea, unfortunately after that six-month mark, she doesn’t exactly leave a much of a paper trail. She made regular cash withdrawals roughly once a week, all from different ATMs. Most of those were two-hundred and fifty dollars each time but there were a few that were closer to three or four hundred. If you ask me, she started using cash to intentionally hide her tracks.”

 “Well, we know she didn’t want anyone to know who the father of her child was, maybe she was afraid of him and went into hiding to protect herself just like…” JJ caught herself before she finished that sentence.

 “Ok, something tells me that JJ might be on the right track, so I’m gonna go ahead and see if Rebecca filed a restraining order against anyone in the past year,” Garcia asked.

 “Please do,” Reid asked.

 “Thanks, Penn.”

 “But of course, my loves,” Garcia replied before hanging up.

 JJ watched as Reid paced around the room. “Spence…we will find out what happened to her. We’ll go to social services first and see what you have to do to take custody of Rebecca’s daughter, then we’ll see if the ME has finished the autopsy yet and if not we can go talk to her co-workers at the university. I promise you, we’ll dig as much as we have to, as deep as you want to take this. It won’t bring her back but it’s better than not knowing.”

 “I know. JJ, I meant what I said on the plane. If you weren’t here I don’t know what I’d do right now. I’ve known Becca since we were little kids and even when I left Las Vegas we never lost contact, not even after all these years. I used to visit her every time I came home to see my mom. Becca was the type of person who always had a plan. Sometimes what she did only made sense to her but she never did anything randomly; it was like she had everything planned out and you were a step behind her trying to figure out what was going on in her head as you went along.”

 “Sounds like that could get pretty frustrating.”

 “It could be, but I learned a long time ago to just trust that she knew what she was doing. The difference here is this time she’s not around to fill me in, about her death, about the baby, about any of this.”

 “Well, then let’s start with the breadcrumbs she left behind. We won’t learn anything pacing around a hotel room will we?”

                                                     ***

At Social Services Ms. Frankfort was there waiting for them. As soon as she saw them arrive, she took Reid and JJ into her office. She sat down at her desk, Reid and JJ took their seats in the two chairs opposite her.

 “This is my friend JJ.”

 “It’s nice to meet you,” JJ added.

 “Likewise.”

 “So what’s my next move?” Reid asked impatiently.

 “Ok, while I was waiting for you I did some research since the crossing of state lines means we have to account for the laws governing this process in two different states. Now, as I understand it, your ultimate goal is to formally adopt her, is that correct?” She asked.

 “Yes,” Reid answered. “As soon as possible, I don’t want her to be in foster care any longer than necessary.”

 “Well, in order to bring her home as quickly as possible, your best bet is to wait on formal adoption and instead focus on becoming her legal guardian right now. That’s a usually a quicker and less complicated process. Plus, it would give us a reason to transfer her case to CPS in DC, which would smooth the road to formal adoption quite a bit because the inter-state business and differing sets of laws would no longer be an issue.”

 “And how long does that usually take?” JJ asked.

 “Once the hearing actually takes place, not long at all, but there’s usually a two to three month waiting period between the initial filing of a petition for guardianship and that hearing taking place.”

 “Three months?” Reid asked.

 “However,” She continued, “there might be a way to expedite that.”

 “How?”

 “If it were an open and shut case, the judge might be persuaded to have the hearing sooner out of the best interests of the child. The letter than Miss Thompson left with her daughter goes a long way in that direction but it’s not the same thing as a legal document. The letter says that she was aware that she was dying. If she knew she didn’t have a lot of time left, she might have made those arrangements in a more binding form.”

 “You mean like a will?” Reid asked.

 “That’s exactly what I mean. If she had one and it says the same thing that letter does, then the hearing becomes all but a formality as long as you pass the background check, which considering the FBI has higher standards for that than we do, there shouldn’t be any doubt about that going smoothly. Once you become her guardian, at that point you would be allowed to bring her home.”

 “What’s her name?”

 “She doesn’t have one yet. For babies who are found under circumstances like these, we file what’s called a foundling certificate. It’s like a birth certificate except the baby isn’t given a name. Then we go back once a legal guardian is established and amend their certificate with whatever name their adoptive guardians give them. That might be something to start thinking about. In the meantime, would you like to meet her?”

 “C-can I?” He asked. “Is she here?”

 Ms. Frankfort nodded. “Excuse me, I’ll just be a moment.” She replied before leaving the room.

 Reid knew she couldn’t have been gone for long but to him, it felt like hours.

 “This is it, Spence, you ready?” JJ asked.

 He nodded.

 When Ms. Frankfort came back in, she was cradling an infant wrapped in a pink, black, and white plaid fleece blanket. “Here she is.” She said, bringing her over to Reid and placing her gently in his arms.

 He looked down at her and noticed that she already had a mop of thick, silky, black hair, then, after a few seconds, as though she was aware of his gaze, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her eyes were a bluish gray, more muted in color than her mother’s had been, but they were bright and alert. She smiled, and after freeing her arm, reached up. Reid met her halfway and gave her a finger to hand on to. “Hi, little one… my name’s Spencer, and I was friends with your mommy. You’re safe now, I’m gonna take good care of you.”

 “She’s a sweetheart,” Ms. Frankfort commented, “Since it was pretty obvious in her case who her guardian was going to be, I’ve been taking care of her, my own daughter was holding her just now. We estimate she’s about eight or nine days old, that blanket is the same one she was wrapped in when she was found. I tried to get her a new one, but she just cried non-stop.”

 “But wouldn’t she be too little to recognize that specific blanket?” JJ asked.

 “I don’t think it is the blanket itself, if this is the blanket Becca wrapped her in, then it might still have her scent on it as well as her own,” Reid explained. “That familiarity would make her feel secure.”

 When he looked back down at the little girl, she was fast asleep.

 “Awe” JJ exclaimed in a whisper.

 “I’ve never seen her fall asleep like that in the arms of someone she just met, even as little as she is, it’s never happened. Looks like Miss Thompson made the right choice.”

[brooks-schreave]

Brooks: Ficlet 2 Part 2

Sorry I was so busy I didn't get to post this a while ago! Thanks @fleur-quinn for the rp :) it was fun ❤️ Sorry for typos! (2200)

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I'd been doing some research for the past few hours and the frustration was starting to get to me. I was fed up with being unsure about my theory and terrified if it proved correct. It was an impossible situation.

I leaned back in my swivel chair and spun around. “What to do, what to do,” I muttered to myself. I could try and read something, I thought. Damn, Bertram would probably chastise me for being ‘antisocial’. I guess I could hang out with Max or Mal for a bit. Sounded well enough. And even if I couldn't find them, I could just walk for a bit.

I stepped out of my room and into the hall and down the stairs. Mal would probably be in the makeup parlor next to the dance studio. I headed towards that direction, nodding towards guards and avoiding eye contact with maids.

I looked up briefly and saw a flash of red hair. Oh, Fleur, I immediately guessed. She wasn't hard to miss. She was walking aimlessly with her headphones on, seemingly unaware of anything around her.

I tried to get her attention to no avail. Finally, I waved a hand in front of her. She looked up in alarm, quickly pulled out her earphones and to ran her fingers through her hair. I assumed she was trying fix it up a bit. It was a bit messy, but not in a bad way. It suited her. “Oh hey Brooks! Sorry, didn’t see you there!”

I shrugged and smiled. “I get that a lot. What are you doing?”

“Oh, uh, I was just dancing in the studio, and thought I’d get something to eat and drink before heading back!” She held up glass of water. “Took your advice and got a glass of water, not a bottle.”

It was actually quite nice to hear that she remembered something so minuscule that I had said. “I'm so pleased. The life of a true lady,” I laughed at my own joke. I'm actually hilarious. “You dance?”

“Of course, the flower queen gotta act lady-like, yeah?” Yes, because ladies say ‘gotta’. “And Yeah, I dance! I love it!”

“Are you any good?” Of course she was, but I figured I'd inquire more on the topic. Fleur seemed to be quite talented. It was almost insane. She was exceptional in the arts and academics. She was a bit intimidating.

“Well... I don’t know,” she bit her lip, nervously. “Do you... do you wanna watch? I mean you can be the judge.”

I felt my ears tinge pink. If she felt nervous, I felt like I should too, as if there was something I wasn't understanding. “You wouldn't mind?”

“Nah, not at all... Piglet.” The redhead giggled reached up to tap my ear.

I felt my face heat up even more with embarrassment. “Just show me the dance.”

She laughed. “C’mon then.” Fleur grabbed my shirt sleeve and pulled me along towards the studio. “Well, uh, have a seat!” She set down her glass of water. “This is a very nice studio you guys have here, by the way.”

I nodded, assuming she was right. This may come as a shock, but I'm not exactly artistically inclined in my opinion. “I'm pretty sure I've been in here, like, twice.”

“What a coincidence! This is also my second time here!” I grinned at her response. I enjoyed her easy going humor.

“So, do you have some sort of routine or are you just going to wing it,” I asked as she picked her music.

“Uh, I can do both actually.” Damn. “But today I’ll do a choreographed dance.”

“Let's see it.” I walked over to the corner of the studio and sat criss-cross-applesauce, my long legs proving it more difficult than necessary.

Fleur nodded as she found the song and started to dance. I actually didn't watch a lot of dance. It was hard to take interest in something you were so unforgivably atrocious at. But, she… She was wickedly talented. I wondered if it was something natural or she genuinely had to work hard at.

There were things extremely noticeable about Fleur that I usually prided myself on never recognizing on anyone else. She was beautiful, there was no getting around that, but she seemed to hold herself in a different way every time you saw her. She was either strutting around with the confidence of a lioness or dragging her feet as if she was lost in some perilous thoughts her mind had conjured up in an act of betrayal.

With one final movement, she finished the routine and looked at me expectedly.

“Wow... T-that was... That looked like something I'd be very bad at doing,” I joked. I'd probably break something.

She blushed and giggled. I could her the nerves in her wavering voice. “It’s not that hard, really... You know ballroom dancing, don’t you?” You're joking, right?

I nodded. “Sure.” Lie, such a lie.

“Yeah! Then it won’t be hard to pick up this sort of dancing!”

I have her a flat look. That definitely wasn't ballroom dancing. “I have a feeling I can't drop to the floor like that.” Which she did.

Fleur laughed. “Well maybe that will take some practice. But the others are easier- you should pick up a few moves,” she said, eyes bright with amusement. “Then you’ll be a homeless dancer! And maybe they’ll finally let you sleep in the palace because of your awesome,” she did a random dance move that consisted of mostly flailing arms, “dance moves!”

“I hope to dance exactly the way you just did. Just that one move. Nothing else”

She repeated the move once again in slow motion. I did my best to mimic her without even moving my arms, trying to make her smile. “Nailed it.”

She blinked her eyes in surprise. “But your hands-” She cut herself off by covering her face and laughing loudly.

I joined in. “What?” I reached out and pulled her hands away from her face. “I thought I did really well that time.”

She peeked at me through her tear-stained lashes, trying not to laugh. “It’s just that when I meant relaxing your arms, I meant,” she paused suddenly, “Are you ticklish?”

Well this took a terrible turn. My smile dropped as I stepped back. “No.”

She grinned mischievously. “Something tells me you’re lying!” The redhead stepped forward to tickle me. Why was she so fast?!

I let out a weird giggle scream and jumped back quickly. Fleur did a war cry and ran after me.

Alright, Brooks, time to actually use your one shred of athletic ability. I ran out of room quickly, my height propelling me forward at a decent speed. My dad actually used to make me do a lot of track growing up, claiming that if I stayed inside to read all day, I'd regret it. He decided it was best for me to get some physical activity. I wasn't half bad, but I hated running and I was exceptionally clumsy. Winning a race just loses its effect when you trip right after crossing the finish line.

“Hey! No fair,” she exclaimed and sped up. The distraction caused me to trip and fall straight forward onto the marble floor. I groaned.

Fleur gasped and walked towards me, quickly. She looked at me with concern. “Brooks! Are you alright?”

I sat up and leaned back on my arms, no amusement on my face. “This is why tickling should be outlawed.” And why the idea that tickling was cute to be abolished. I had strong feelings about this.

She sat down next to him with a small smile. “I’m, uh, sorry… I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I could have died, Miss Quinn. All because your positively vicious antics.”

She hung her head. I hoped she didn't actually think I was upset. “I’m sorry... to be fair, you could’ve just let me tickle you.” Uh huh. ”Anyways, I’ll let you tickle me as a revenge?”

I almost slapped myself at how I immediately processed her words as some innuendo. I'd been around Max too much recently. “I'm far too much of a gentleman for that,” I smiled politely.

“Says the boy who ran like a madman just now,” she chuckled. “Your weird giggle scream…”

“'Says the man.' I'm a man.” Real convincing, kiddo.

“Whatever you say, my Prince,” she replied in da singsong voice.

“Your prince, huh? Wrong one, Fleur,” I teased. I knew what she meant but it almost gave me pride to see her flustered. She seemed untouchable at times.

Her eyes widened as she blushed and stuttered. “I- isn’t that what people-,” she suddenly realized I was teasing. “Maybe not the wrong one,” she said quietly.

I cocked my head to the side slightly at her words. Suddenly, I felt like I wasn't supposed to be there. But it wasn't as if there was anything wrong going on. “I am no one's and neither are you,” I stood up and offered her a hand. “People don't belong to each other,” I smiled in a way which can only be described as my signature expression. It may have seemed random, but this was something I actually had a strong view on. It's what bothered me about the selection at times- that there was an assumption of ownership over human beings.

She took my hand and sighed. “Right,” she replied lamely. “But isn’t that what people call the royals, ‘My Queen, My king, My prince, My lady’...”

I could tell she felt uncomfortable. “A technicality that I would abolish if I were king,” I flashed a posh smirk.

“Well, you can still always suggest that to your brother!”

“Mmhm, it's on the list.”

“Oh and by the way, I got an A for that assignment last time!” Fleur did a quick happy dance.

“Congratulations,” I grinned wholeheartedly. “What was it on?”

“Uh…, she thought about it, “uh... oh! Rule of Law!

“You hesitated. By Illea, Fleur... A-are you lying,” I gasped dramatically.

She rolled her eyes. “I was not! I simply forgot the topic! Once I finished an assignment, I would not think about it again. Don’t wanna live through the nightmare again.”

I shook my head. “Naw, I don't buy it. Spit it out, what was the paper really on?”

“The rule of law!” She stomped feet in frustration. “Comparison between the rule of law in Illéa and America. I can prove it to you! Humph!” Fleur crossed her arms in defiance. I raised an eyebrow at her actions.

“It was probably about statistics on cows. Remember, Miss Quinn, a future queen mustn't lie.”

“I was NOT lying,” she groaned. Fleur whipped out her phone and found the document. “See? and I don’t do statistics on cows!”

“Well you should. I would read it ALL.”

“Why would I write about statistics on cows,” she threw her hands in the air. “Maybe /you/,” she jabbed her finger into my chest, “should do it. And I won’t read it!” Damn, she's really into this.

“No point then.”

“Did Brooks Schreave just say that he will only do a research if Fleur Quinn reads it? Ha!” Her eyes danced with amusement.

“Poor girl, you confuse my meaning.” I smiled smugly. “What I'm saying is that I have no want to write about cow statistics, but I would do it to spite you. But if you weren't going to read it anyway, there's no point.”

“First, I’m not ‘poor’.” Darling, I'm well aware. I've done the research. “Second, stop smiling like that,” she looked at me with disgust. Ouch. “Third, you’re /still/ saying you’ll only do a research if I’m reading it! I never specified what research!” She winked dramatically. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. I won’t tell anybody about it,” she finished with a solemn nod.

I wiped imaginary sweat off my forehead. “Wow, that's a real weight off my shoulders. How could I ever repay you?”

“You can’t! But you can walk me back to the studio because I’m really thirsty after all the exercise.”

“Seems simple enough,” I shrugged, “and I am, at heart, a simple man.”

We began to walk. “Yup, I could totally see that with all the, what’s that?” She gestured to my attire. “Sweater and tie! A very casual and simple attire indeed.” I almost clutched my stomach self consciously. What's wrong with my clothes?

“I'm a very suave hobo, as you can see.” She laughed.

We arrived to the studio and she grabbed her water. “Water has never tasted better! “Thanks for walking me back,” she beamed. “Oh no! Dinner’s an hour away! I have to get changed!”

“And I have to…” I thought of something, “wait an hour for dinner.” Smooth. “See you then,” I smiled and waved.

She returned the action. “See ya! Don’t starve!”

I held in a laugh. “I'll try not to,” I called back.

Huh, that wasn't too bad of a distraction. Fleur had a kind heart that was both endearing and refreshing. I rubbed the side of my face that had been so severely hit earlier that day. Very refreshing.

[mirajens]

a cosmic shift

paring: mirajane/laxus rating: t chapter 5 of the rockabye series part two of sandbox bullies  found on ff.n

Sometimes, all it took was one action to rearrange a galaxy. For Mirajane, whose Milky Way took shelter in the adorably round face of her six year old, Yukino, the shift felt cosmic.

She'd been worried about Yukino's transfer to another class. Her girl had already been through so much with the move; was it wise to make her adapt to more change when she barely settled into the last one?

The transfer to the other class proved to be a good one. Mira wished she knew it would be that simple. Kids weren't picking on Yukino anymore and she came home from school still excited about the friends she played with. Mirajane felt her heart was swollen with joy. The whole household was drastically altered: cheerful since they left the comfort of their old lives. It felt like things were finally, finally falling into place.

The decision to leave behind the town she grew up in, all the family and friends that supported her through her pregnancy and the first years of Yukino's life, had been a difficult but necessary one. But no matter how crucial, it had been painful. There had been challenging moments when Mira considered going back with her tail between her legs, were it not for the desire to give her child a better life. In the end, homesickness couldn't trump ambition.

These days, Mirajane would settle into bed exhausted, but warm thinking of how her baby had a bright future ahead of her, how she bubbled with giggles so often or how her aura radiated. Sure, things weren't perfect, but they might as well be.

Mirajane wished she had the foresight to take better care of herself, though.

She was supposed to take Yukino to the lake today but the tightness in her chest last night turned out to be a fever this morning. Yukino only looked disappointed for a few minutes before crying from driving herself into a pit of pity for her ashen-faced mother.

"I promise I'm fine, baby." Mirajane smoothed a hand down her daughter's cap of hair, a shade nearly identical to her own. "I'll just take a nap for a while and then you can help me cook lunch, okay?"

"Yes, mama." Yukino sniffled, her nose pink and running. It almost made Mirajane laugh. Kids had a tendency to be entertaining when they were being dramatic.

"You can watch TV for a while, but don't sit close to the screen."

Yukino scrambled off Mirajane's bed and sat by the foot of it in front of the television. When the History Channel blinked into Elmo, Mirajane let her eyes flutter close, falling asleep to a song counting in multiples of two.

.

.

Mirajane startled awake a couple of hours later to the loud ding of the doorbell. She saw Yukino bolt up from her sprawl on the floor.

"I told you that you can't answer the door without me, Yukino." Mirajane sat up and put her feet into the house slippers Yukino got for her.

"Don't worry, mama, it's only Mr Dreyar," Yukino told her as she exited Mirajane's bedroom.

Maybe it was the fever, but Mirajane took a while to remember a Mr Dreyar. When she did, she was speed walking down the hall, the stairs, while simultaneously taming her hair into something that didn't resemble pulled cotton. When she reached the landing, Yukino was already smiling up at her old teacher as he hung his coat on the hat stand.

Mirajane had kept correspondence with Mr Dreyar enough that she was on a first name basis with him. There was a lot to discuss about the transfer, meetings with the guidance counselor, reports of academic process, more meetings with the new teachers, and then some. Mira enjoyed most the unnecessary but absolutely appreciated status reports that Laxus sent her about how Yukino had crawled out of her shell and played raucously with the children in her new class.

Admittedly, it was a bit weird that he was here, in her house, apparently expected by her daughter. It wasn't a bad weird, though.

"You… look like you don't know why I'm here," Laxus said cautiously when he finally saw Mirajane.

"I'm sorry, I just woke up."

"Mama has a flu," Yukino said.

"A fever," Mirajane corrected. "Did I-?"

"Yukino called me on your phone. She asked me to make lunch for you because you were sick." Laxus couldn't quite stop his amused smile. "I assumed she told you about it, and that she had your permission."

"No, it's fine. I'm just sorry to trouble you." Going down the rest of the stairs, wishing she wore anything other than the most embarrassing clothing she owned (matching yellow Yoshi pajamas that she reserved specifically for days that had zero chances of anyone seeing them), Mirajane told herself to calm down. "I was gonna call a sitter for her," she said, feeling the need to defend herself for some reason.

Laxus shrugged. "Great. I normally charge an exorbitant forty bucks an hour because I have a PhD in babysitting. But we can discuss alternative payment later. I bought supplies for lunch." He shook the bag of groceries in his hand. "I hope you're not violently opposed to soup. It's the only thing aside from Hennessy that I know is good with fevers."

The laughter that bubbled out of Mira made her temple throb. She placed a hand on Yukino's head and lead Laxus to the kitchen. "If I'm going to pay a premium, I might as well make proper use of you, shouldn't I?"

There was a funny look on Laxus' face when he stopped by the counter, one with a brow raised and a small, smug tilt to his lips. "I suppose you should. I wouldn't be opposed." He began to sort out the groceries, and then helped himself to the utensils and equipment.

Mirajane probably shouldn't be so at ease with a guy she barely knew cooking in her kitchen. Red-faced (and definitely not from the fever), she made her way to the eat in area, intent to check her email for all the work she missed for the last couple of days as she listened to the quiet noise of someone cooking.

"Do you like celery?" she heard Laxus ask. When Mira looked up, she saw him addressing Yukino who sat on the counter beside his chopping board.

Yukino stuck her tongue out and made a disgusted face in answer.

"Too bad. It's good for you, so it goes in the pot," Laxus said as he continued chopping.

"You're putting an awful lotta green in there, Mr Dreyar," Yukino remarked, her face retaining the sickened look. "You said this was gonna be chicken soup."

Laxus turned to dump the cut vegetables into the chicken broth. "It's chicken soup with vegetables." Laxus' eyes flickered up to catch Mirajane's gaze for a second, before facing Yukino again. "Some crazy old lady yelled at me because you didn't eat veggies so I'm putting some in the soup. It's my grandfather's recipe and he used to make me eat it before he let me go out to play with my friends."

"Crazy old lady, huh?" Mirajane called out.

"Yeah. White hair, angry little face. Pretty, though," Laxus replied. He celebrated internally when it got his intended reaction, which was a smile.

"I have white hair!" Yukino declared with a beam.

"You sure do, kid. Wanna go set the table for your mom? This is gonna be done in a bit."

Mira tried to relax and not hover as Yukino retrieved three bowls from the dish racks. The small girl asked Laxus for help getting the pitcher of water in the refrigerator before bringing it to her mother with a glass. Yukino sat in the curve of the nook, her legs swinging under her.

"Thank you, baby. Isn't this very nice service? And all I had to do was get sick."

Laxus hefted the steaming dutch oven from the burner and brought it to the table. It smelled good enough to bypass the nausea.

"I didn't know I was so hungry until now. Thank you, Laxus. This is great."

Laxus placed a filled bowl in front of Mirajane. "Good. Because you're gonna have enough leftovers for a few days. This keeps really well in the fridge."

Mirajane didn't make it a point for any man she was interested in to meet her daughter (much less bring him home) unless she knew it was serious. So far, none had gotten past the third date, and yet here Laxus was, no date, but already making lunch with Yukino. It was kind of surreal, wasn't it? And funny. It seemed to Mira that it was Yukino who found Laxus first and brought him to her. This time, in a literal sense.

She ate and watched Yukino collect the peas from her soup on her spoon.

"Mr Dreyar?"

"Yeah?"

Yukino gave the bigger man a sweet, heart-melting smile before putting her spoonful of peas in his bowl. She giggled when Laxus made a play at being distressed.

"Now I gotta eat peas. I don't like peas."

"Why did you put them in the soup?" Yukino asked.

"Because we're not the ones sick, so it doesn't really matter if we like peas or not."

Mirajane grinned at him over her soup. "I don't like peas, either."

"Right. I'll keep that in mind next time."

Next time. That sounded nice.

"Mama, can Mr Dreyar see Angel?" Yukino asked, already inching out of her spot in the banquette, soup untouched if not for the bits of chicken she fished out of the mix.

"If you clean the pen real quick, then yes. She wouldn't want her guest to see a dirty home. Be careful." Mira called out to her already sprinting daughter.

Laxus jogged his memory. He remembered an Angel from one of Yukino's art projects. "Her rabbit, right?"

"She begged and begged. I'm only human and I couldn't say no. I got her a pair."

"Understandable. Only a rock could say no to that face."

"I'm glad you agree." She studied his face for a bit, unabashed. She liked the way his expressions hardened, and then gave way to softer ones. "I've been trying to figure out why you look so different today. I just noticed that you're not wearing your glasses."

Laxus' lips fell into thin lines and his eyes expressed the fakest attempt at annoyance. "I doesn't go with my outfit."

His dry tone made her laugh. "Well, who really needs good vision when you're wearing a band shirt, right?"

Laxus made a not very subtle attempt to sweep his gaze over Mira. "I can see well enough." And the view looked terrific. Even in Yoshi pajamas.

The silence that passed between them was easy. For a very brief moment, Mirajane thought to herself that she could get used to this: having quiet meals with a gorgeous, educated man who got along well with her daughter. The idea made her blush before it could even pass. Hoping to clear the heat simmering under her cheeks, Mirajane cleared her throat and set her spoon down beside her empty bowl."So… about that payment."

"I was kidding. I don't really charge forty bucks an hour."

"Cool How about dinner, then?"

"Dinner as in you want me to stay a bit more and make you guys dinner?"

"I was thinking along the lines of me getting an actual sitter. We can go somewhere fancy. Maybe you can take me back when Yukino's in bed." Mira was sure her hand wasn't shaking when she reached for her glass of water and sipped. All things considered, she was being really cool about all this. She liked the man. Really, really, really liked him. The fact that he was a kindergarten teacher made her heart swell, and to make it burst was the fact that he saved her baby from bullies. He was efficient, kind and he knew how to cook soup. His ass was great in his jeans and his glasses, when he wore them, turned her on. Why shouldn't she, for once in her life as a mother, do something potentially reckless? "She's a very heavy sleeper."

Laxus looked like he was about to choke or go through several red-hued complexions at Mirajane's suggestions. "You're forward. I love it."

All Mira could do was smile proudly because Yukino chose that moment to come running back into the kitchen.

"The cage is clean!" Yukino announced, planting her palms on the table, looking straight at Laxus with the manic eyes only an excited child could possess. "Come see her, Mr Dreyar."

Laxus got up and took Yukino's proffered hand. The conversation wasn't over with Mirajane and he thrived off the promise of more.

"Angel has a friend named Racer because he's fast!"

As Yukino urged Laxus away, Mira settled back into the breakfast nook and smiled at the sight. When Laxus looked back to grin at Mira, she winked back, feeling, perhaps for the first time in a very long time, both frightened and thrilled to let someone into her life.