#but i want to make a series out of this and just two polls isn't enough!!!

[cicadagaze]

hmm... what if i made a bunch of polls for Eye Color Discourse. could be fun. but dovewing is like. the only one i can think of for eye color DISCOURSE. i'd personally add ravenpaw as well, but like... who else...

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Election Day in New York, Pt. 1 [15/17]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.2k Summary: Election Day is finally here, but the campaign certainly isn't over yet. The people need to get out and vote, and you and Steve put in more hard work to get them to the polls. But you can't ignore the new level you and Steve have stepped into for your relationship...

Content/Warnings: political/campaign discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to lovers, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral - male and female receiving, vaginal intercourse, implied hand jobs, referenced shower sex)

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[NOVEMBER 3 - 8:32AM - TIMES SQUARE - MIDTOWN MANHATTAN]

“We all know it’s Election Day. Our team here at Good Morning America has been covering the developments you dedicated coverage for months, following the candidates, the debates, and the rogue run for the presidency by independent candidate and former Captain America Steven Grant Rogers, and in an unprecedented surprise development, we have the New York City native joining us here in studio right now,” Michael Strahan says, standing tall beside the news desk as the camera pans to reveal Steve sitting comfortably in one of the Good Morning America conversation chairs next to Robin Roberts and George Stephanopoulos.

"Good morning, America," Steve says with a small wave, his voice calm and steady despite the monumental day ahead. He looks impeccable in his navy suit, his signature red and blue campaign tie knotted perfectly at his throat. Your heart is racing and chest slightly heaving from the adrenaline of rushing across town and sprinting through the building to get Steve to the ABC studio in time for this last minute chance appearance, but Steve didn’t even break a sweat and looks cool as a cucumber on set. 

He is a super soldier, but he also didn’t have to do any of it in heels. 

"Captain Rogers, thank you both for being here on what must be an incredibly busy morning for you," George says, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"I wouldn't miss it," you reply with a warm smile. "And please, call me Steve. New York is home, and I wanted to start this historic day right here."

“But we’re not your first stop, are we?” Robin jumps in. On the monitor next to you and Pepper, you can see them cutting to footage of you and Steve at your polling station to cast your ballots - which happened only just under an hour ago. “You’ve already been to Brooklyn to vote!”

Steve laughs, “Yes, we have! Voting is the most important thing every American can do today, so my wife and I made sure to take care of that the first chance we got!”

This stop hadn’t been on the itinerary, but your campaign press secretary had worked some sort of miracle and pulled many strings and announced as you got in a car to drive from The Plaza to your Brooklyn polling station that she’d managed to get Steve a five minute segment on the country’s most-watched morning show as long as you could make it into the studio by 8:30am. 

"Now, Steve, the polls are showing an incredibly tight race. Some are calling it the most unpredictable race in our nation’s history,” George says. “The most successful run a third party candidate made was Theodore Roosevelt in 1912. After serving two terms from 1901-1909, he said he was not interested in running for a third term, and the Republican nomination went to his Vice President William Howard Taft who went on to win and succeed Teddy Roosevelt as President, but he was unhappy with the direction Taft went, and sought the nomination again four years later. He didn’t get it, and so he ran as the candidate for the Progressive Party, and he actually earned 88 electoral votes.”

“That’s true, and I’m old, but this actually was still just before my time,” Steve confirms with a wink and a grin, effusing charm. “He won 27% of the popular vote, but Woodrow Wilson ended up taking in 435 votes in the electoral college.”

“Now there are two possibilities at the end of this election,” Robin takes the reins from her cohost for the next leg of the conversation. “The first and most straightforward is that one of the three candidates wins a simple majority, just 270 of the 538 electoral votes. But what happens if none of you reach that crucial 270 threshold?”

"If no candidate secures a majority,” Steve explains, “the House of Representatives holds a contingent election to choose the president, while the Senate does the same for the vice president. In the House, every state delegation has one vote, whereas in the Senate, each Senator votes individually." 

“That’s fascinating,” Robin replies.

"The Constitution's framers designed this process for exactly this kind of situation," Steve continues, his voice steady and clear. "It's happened before in our nation's history, though not since 1824." 

"And polls show this is a real possibility tonight," George adds, glancing at his notes. "How does that affect your strategy today?"

Steve leans forward slightly, his expression earnest. "Our strategy remains unchanged—connecting with voters until the last poll closes. Every state is a battleground state for us, not just the quote ‘traditional swing states.’ I think that’s one of the most dynamic parts of this election. But we would prefer if we could take a true 270-victory to keep it in the hands of every American voter. The people deserve to have their voices heard. That's what democracy is all about."

"Speaking of connecting with voters," Robin transitions smoothly, "your campaign has defied conventional wisdom at every turn. No party infrastructure, no traditional fundraising apparatus, yet here you are, competitive in nearly every battleground state. What do you attribute that success to?" 

You watch from just off-camera as Steve considers the question, his thoughtful pause not a hesitation but a careful, deliberate moment to find the words that matter.

"The American people are ready for something different," Steve says with quiet conviction. "They're tired of the political theater, the partisan gridlock. I was tired of it, too - that’s why I decided to do this, and what Charlie Young and I offer is simple: straight talk, clear vision, and a commitment to putting country above party." He smiles, that smile that has won over millions. "And I've been blessed not only with extraordinary supporters but a team of dedicated Americans who believed in this vision enough to work around the clock to make it possible."

George jumps in again and asks. "What's your message to voters who might still be undecided as they head to the polls today?"

Steve's expression grows more serious. "Vote your conscience. Not your fear, not your party loyalty, but your genuine belief in what America can and should be. This country has faced greater challenges than the ones before us now, and we've always emerged stronger when we've put our differences aside and focused on what unites us rather than what divides us. That's the America I believe in, and that's the America I hope to serve."

"And what about today's schedule?" Robin asks. "Where can voters expect to see you?"

"We'll be making stops in all five boroughs today," Steve replies. "We want to talk to as many people and thank as many people as we can. And then we'll be hosting a gathering in Central Park this evening as the results start coming in."

"And for those who haven't had a chance to meet you in person during the campaign," George says, "what would you like them to know about you as they head to the polls today?" 

Steve takes another brief moment, his expression thoughtful. "I'd want them to know that I've never stopped believing in what America can be. When I woke up in this century after being frozen for decades, I had to learn about a world that had changed dramatically. But the core of what makes this country special hasn't changed—it's still about people coming together, looking out for each other, and believing that tomorrow can be better than today if we're willing to work for it."

"And time for one last question," Robin says, glancing at the producer who's signaling from off-camera. "Win or lose, what happens tomorrow?" 

Steve smiles, a genuine warmth spreading across his features. "Tomorrow, the sun rises on America as it always has. And regardless of the outcome, I'll continue to serve this country in whatever capacity I can. That's been what I’ve done since 1943, and it hasn’t changed." 

"Captain Rogers—Steve—thank you for joining us this morning," George concludes, extending his hand. 

"Thank you for having me," Steve replies, shaking hands firmly with both hosts as the segment wraps. 

"And we're clear!" calls the floor director. The red lights dim, and the studio immediately buzzes with movement as crew members shift equipment for the next segment.

"That was great," Robin says warmly. "Good luck today, Steve."

"Thank you," he replies, his smile genuine but a touch weary around the edges in a way only you can detect.

"That was fantastic," Jake says, appearing at your side as Steve steps off the set. "You hit every key message point we wanted."

Steve's public face softens slightly as he turns to the two of you and Pepper, the practiced polish giving way to something more genuine. "Did it sound natural? That last answer felt a little rehearsed." 

"It was perfect," you assure him, straightening his already-perfect tie in a gesture that's become second nature. "Authentic but presidential." 

Lisa hurries over with a tablet displaying the updated schedule.

"That went incredibly well," Lisa says, swiping through her notes. "Social media engagement is already spiking. The clips will be running all morning."

"The quinjet is waiting," Pepper notes, checking her watch. "We need to be in Queens by nine-thirty."

Steve frowns. “The quinjet? Is that really necessary?”

Pepper smiles serenely. “We’re going to use all the resources at our disposal to get you where you need to be today. Quinjets are immune to traffic.”

[2:27PM - BROOKLYN]

Your body is humming with the adrenaline of five back-to-back events across New York City's five boroughs. After heading to Queens from the Good Morning America appearance, you’d then gone to the Bronx, back into Manhattan, ridden the Ferry to Staten Island to mingle with the crowd there before the actual Staten Island stop, and made the last stop in Brooklyn. 

You’re in a black SUV again now, and the motorcade weaves through the afternoon traffic, but instead of taking you back to Manhattan, every turn takes you deeper into Brooklyn. You exchange a puzzled glance with Steve as the familiar streets of your neighborhood come into view.

"Are we going where I think we're going?" you ask, leaning forward to catch Jake's eye in the front seat.

Jake turns, his expression a mixture of conspiracy and satisfaction. "Change of plans. We're taking you home."

"Home?" Steve repeats, his brow furrowing. "But the schedule had us back at the Plaza until the Central Park event."

"We only led you to believe that," Jake says, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. "Team decision. 

We don't trust either of you to actually rest if we take you back to campaign headquarters. You'll both be hovering over polling data and making calls until it's time for evening appearances."

"What?" you and Steve say in near unison, both of you immediately sitting up straighter. 

Jake's expression doesn't waver. "You heard me. You're going home to your actual home, and you're going to take a real break before tonight. The both of you are running on fumes." 

"Jake," Steve begins, his tone carrying that Captain America authority that usually brooks no argument.

"With all due respect," Jake interrupts, remarkably unfazed, "this isn't negotiable. You two need actual downtime before tonight. Sophia, Sam, Bucky, and I conferred with Pepper. It was unanimous, and Pepper pays my salary, not you."

Steve glances at you, a silent conversation passing between you. You can see the initial resistance in his eyes.

“We're confiscating your phones as well," Jake adds, putting his hand out expectantly. "If we need you, we'll communicate through the Secret Service agents."

You stare at Jake, mouth slightly agape, but realize you shouldn't be that surprised. The team has been protecting you both from burnout for months, orchestrating moments of respite amid the chaos whenever possible. Still, the boldness of this particular intervention catches you off guard, but you know he’s right. 

With a sigh of surrender, you hand over your phone. Steve hesitates a moment longer before reluctantly following suit. 

"Three hours," Jake says, pocketing both devices. "That's all we're asking. Eat something that isn't campaign trail food. Take a nap in your own bed. Change into fresh clothes. Just be normal people for a little while." 

The SUV pulls up to your brownstone, the one Steve purchased and that you haven’t spent more than a handful of days in since becoming his wife. It looks exactly as you remember—the freshly painted door, the window boxes that the property manager has maintained in your absence, the worn stone steps leading up to the entrance.

"We'll have agents downstairs," Jake continues as the Secret Service team conducts their standard perimeter check. "But inside, it's just the two of you."

"What about the press pool?" Steve asks, his sense of duty clearly warring with the temptation of a few hours of true privacy.

"Handled," Jake says firmly. "Why do you think we packed the news cycle for the first seven hours of your day?"

"And social media?" you ask, already anticipating that’s been covered, too.

“You surely noticed Peter Parker was your shadow across the five boroughs - he was gathering more than enough footage and photos to fuel the campaign until tonight.”

"You thought of everything," Steve observes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"That's my job," Jake responds with a smirk. "Now go. Rest. That's an order."

"Three hours," Steve agrees.

"Thank you," you add.

Jake smiles, genuine warmth replacing his earlier firmness. "See you at five-thirty. The car will be waiting."

As you step out of the SUV, the November air feels crisp against your skin. You and Steve walk briskly up to the front door, hand in hand, and a Secret Service agent opens it to let you inside. The brownstone welcomes you with familiar silence as the front door closes behind you. For a moment, you both stand in the foyer, as if reacquainting yourselves with the space that's meant to be yours but has seen so little of you.

"That was well-played by them," Steve finally says, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

"Very," you agree, taking off your coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. "But they're not wrong."

Steve follows suit, his jacket joining yours. "No, they're not," he admits, running a hand through his hair—a rare gesture of fatigue he allows himself only in private. "I haven't stopped moving since 5 AM."

You step closer to him, reaching up to loosen his tie. "And you were up at 4:30 checking polling data."

His hands settle on your waist, warm and steady. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Of course I did," you say softly, working the knot of his tie free and setting it on a small table near the front door. Then you tip your head up and kiss your husband. It’s sweet, soft, taking advantage of a moment you get to simply be together. He returns it in kind, and you feel the contentment bleeding from him into you. 

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his chest and let out a contented sigh. "I'm starving," you admit, realizing you've barely eaten anything since the campaign breakfast at 6 AM. 

"Me too," Steve says, his stomach punctuating the statement with a rumble that makes you both laugh. "Let's see what we've got." 

You take his hand and lead him through the brownstone toward the kitchen. The house feels both familiar and strange—this space you've shared but never truly lived in together. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air and casting warm patterns across the hardwood floors. Your heels click against the wood, and you pause to slip them off, leaving them beside a decorative bench in the hallway.

"Much better," you sigh, wiggling your toes in relief. 

The kitchen is spotless and eerily untouched, yet somehow welcoming. Steve opens the refrigerator, his expression turning to surprise.

"It's fully stocked," he says, glancing back at you. "Someone thought of everything." 

You peek around his shoulder to see fresh produce, eggs, cheese, and various containers neatly arranged on the shelves. "Sophia," you guess. "She would remember we haven't actually lived here."

Steve pulls out ingredients—bread, cheese, deli meats, tomatoes, and lettuce. "Sandwiches?" he suggests, already moving with purpose around the kitchen. 

"Perfect," you agree, hoisting yourself onto one of the counter stools to watch him work. There's something mesmerizing about seeing Steve in such a domestic setting, his movements efficient yet relaxed as he assembles lunch. Your mind wanders back to the last time you were in this kitchen together, making chocolate chip cookies, and though things had been developing between the two of you, it was at that point when you started to feel the reality of your relationship and the roots of it being permanent, of going beyond a political arrangement, of genuine love and affection.

Steve must have been thinking along similar lines, because as he assembles sandwiches for you both, he says, “I never told you how nervous I was for you to come here for the Oprah interview.” 

"Nervous?" you ask, surprised. "Why? Because Oprah was coming?"

"No," he says with a small laugh, carefully slicing a tomato into perfect, even rounds. "Because you were. This was the first place that was really mine in this century. I'd had apartments, quarters at the Avengers compound, but this..." His knife pauses as he gestures around the kitchen. "I chose every detail. And I knew you’d been here before - for the nights around the wedding, but there weren’t emotional stakes back in June, and then suddenly I was seeing it all through your eyes."

You slide off the stool and move to stand beside him, picking up a knife to help with the sandwich preparations. 

"There was this moment after dinner," Steve says, glancing up with warmth in his eyes, "we had a few minutes before the team was going to prep for camera angles with us in the living room, and you ran your fingers slowly along the banister while we talked, then walked over and lingered by the windows. It was the first time I saw you truly relax around me."

"I didn't realize I was so transparent," you admit, watching as he layers turkey and cheese onto whole grain bread.

"Not transparent. Just... seen." He slides a completed sandwich toward you on a plate so you can cut it in half. "By me, anyway."

The simple statement carries weight that settles comfortably in your chest. 

You take a bite of your sandwich, the fresh ingredients a welcome change from campaign trail food. "You really see me, don't you?" you say after swallowing. "Even back then, when we barely knew each other." 

"I think I've always seen you," Steve replies, his voice soft as he leans against the counter opposite you. "Even when I was trying not to." 

You both eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the simple pleasure of a homemade meal in your own kitchen feeling like an extraordinary luxury after months of catering and takeout in hotel dining rooms, busses, planes, and at campaign events. 

Steve finishes his sandwich in record time and makes himself another while you're still working on your first.

"Super soldier metabolism," you tease, watching him assemble a second sandwich with practiced efficiency.

"I've been running on fumes, remember?" he says in a pained voice. "Haven't had a real meal in years."

You study him as he eats, noticing the slight tension around his eyes, the way he occasionally rolls his shoulders to release stiffness. Steve Rogers, ever the soldier, pushing through every bit of fatigue he’s determined to ignore, and all without complaint.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, catching your contemplative gaze.

"Us," you answer honestly. "How strange it is that we've been married for months but this is the first time we’re getting to do this, be this.”

"Normal life," Steve says, nodding. "Just being together without a schedule, without cameras." His eyes hold yours, warm and thoughtful. "I want more of this. After today, regardless of the outcome." 

You set your sandwich down, suddenly emotional at the simple truth of his words. "Me too." 

Steve reaches across the counter, taking your hand in his. His thumb traces gentle circles on your skin, the gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all its own. 

"I keep thinking about what happens after," you admit. "If you win, if you don't, everything changes again."

"Some things change," Steve agrees, his voice steady. "But not us. Not this." He squeezes your hand gently. "I meant what I said last night." 

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. "I know you did. I did too.”

Steve finishes his second sandwich, takes a long drink of water, then wipes his mouth on his napkin and turns to face you. You look up at him and lick your lips, his eyes darting down to catch the movement.

"Come upstairs with me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low register that sends warmth spreading through your limbs. "We have two and a half hours left before we have to face the world again."

You step closer, your body fitting against his as naturally as breathing. "What did you have in mind, Captain Rogers?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice despite the way your heart quickens.

His eyes darken slightly as he looks down at you, his hand coming to rest on your waist. "A nap," he says with mock seriousness. "Jake's orders, remember?"

"Just a nap?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow. 

Steve's mouth curves into that half-smile that makes your stomach flip as his hand squeezes at your waist. "Just a nap," he confirms. "But I can't be held responsible for what happens before or after said nap."

You laugh softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "Then by all means, how can I refuse?"

Steve scoops you up in one fluid motion, drawing a surprised gasp from you as he carries you toward the stairs. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers threading through the short hair at his nape.

"Show-off," you murmur against his ear.

"Efficient," he corrects, navigating the stairs with ease despite your added weight. "We're on a schedule, remember?"

You’re up two flights of stairs in next to no time. 

The master bedroom is bathed in afternoon light, the cream curtains softening the November sun into a gentle glow. The bed is made with fresh linens—another thoughtful touch from whoever prepared the house for your brief visit. Steve closes the door behind you, though there's no one else in the house to hear or see.

Steve sets you down gently at the foot of the bed, his hands lingering at your waist as yours slide up his chest.

For a moment, you simply breathe together, the campaign, the election, the world outside all fading away until there's just this—you and Steve, husband and wife, in a quiet room on an extraordinary day.

His lips find yours with gentle precision, the kiss unhurried despite the ticking clock. Steve's fingers work at the buttons of your blouse while you loosen his belt, both of you unhurried yet deliberate. There's no need to rush—this stolen time is yours alone.

"I keep thinking about how surreal this is," you murmur as he trails kisses down your neck, your blouse now hanging open. "In a few hours, you could be the President-elect."

His hands pause their exploration, and he pulls back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes serious despite the flush on his cheeks. "Or not," he says. “It’s always been a long shot.”

“But not an impossible shot,” you counter. 

He smiles, cupping your face in his hands. "No. Not impossible." The fire you see in Steve’s eyes is there - you know he’s not feeling defeated, just tempering expectations, optimistic but realistic. 

Your fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every plane. The enormity of it all washes over you—not just the election, but this journey you've taken together, the unexpected path that led you here.

"Whatever happens tonight," you whisper, "this is what matters. Us."

Steve's hands thread through your hair, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The intensity there makes your heart stutter. "Always," he agrees, voice low and certain.

You slide your hands down his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. A surge overtakes you—the need to show him with actions what words can't fully express. With deliberate slowness, you sink to your knees before him, maintaining eye contact as you undo his belt completely and lower his zipper with careful precision. His breath catches audibly, his hands moving to your shoulders as if to steady himself. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he holds himself with perfect control.

"You don't have to," he murmurs, though his dilated pupils tell a different story. 

"I want to," you reply, your voice soft but certain. 

His eyes darken further at your words, and he gives a small nod, surrendering to your touch. You ease his trousers down his hips, followed by his boxer briefs, revealing his already hard length. The afternoon light plays across his skin, highlighting the perfect planes of his muscled abdomen, the definition of his thighs. 

Your fingers trace up the inside of his leg, feeling the slight tremor that runs through him at your touch. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip bone, feeling him inhale sharply at the contact. When you finally take him into your mouth, his strong but gentle hands come to cradle your head in his hands, not guiding, just connecting.

"God," he breathes, the single word heavy with desire. 

You take your time, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of his skin, the sound of his breath catching and releasing above you. The afternoon light streams through the curtains, casting a golden glow across his taut abdomen, highlighting the perfect definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. You watch his face as you move, captivated by the way his eyes darken and his lips part slightly with each slow stroke. 

Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath your touch. His fingers remain gentle in your hair, neither pushing nor pulling, just maintaining that intimate connection between you. You hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, drawing a low, rumbling groan from deep in his chest that sends a shiver of satisfaction through you. 

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his voice strained and husky.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, in his reactions, in the way his breathing grows more ragged with each passing moment. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and you glance up to see his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted. The sight of him—powerful, vulnerable, yours—sends heat pooling low in your abdomen. 

When his control finally breaks, it's with your name on his lips, his hands still cradling your face with impossible firmness that’s still gentle even as pleasure overtakes him and you eagerly swallow him down. 

After, he helps you to your feet, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and determination that makes your pulse quicken. His hands never seem to leave your body as he carefully removes each article of your clothing, scorching your skin, spiking the desire with each touch. He turns you both and presses your back up against the bedroom door. 

"My turn," he whispers against your mouth, the words a promise that sends even more anticipation coursing through you.

Steve is not slow in kneeling before you and hitching one of your legs up over his shoulder, burying his head into your wet cunt. His breath is hot against your most sensitive flesh, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips as his tongue makes first contact. 

Your back presses harder against the door as Steve's large hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place. The contrast of the cool wood against your heated skin makes you shiver—or perhaps it's the intense way he's looking up at you, his blue eyes darkened with desire.

"Hold onto me," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear.

You thread your fingers through his hair, the soft strands tickling your palms as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his lips is deliberate as he works his way back to your core with agonizing slowness. His stubble creates a salacious friction against your sensitive skin, the slight sting only heightening your anticipation.

When he finally returns his attention to your center, you grip his hair tighter, your head falling back against the door with a soft thud. His tongue moves with purposeful precision, circling your clit before flattening against it, sending sparks of pleasure radiating outward. Your breathing grows ragged as he establishes a rhythm that has your knees weakening, grateful for his strong hands keeping you upright.

"Steve," you gasp, the single syllable carrying everything you can't articulate—need, love, desperation. 

He responds by doubling his efforts, sliding one hand from your hip to slip two fingers inside you. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers working in tandem has you climbing rapidly toward release, your body tensing with each stroke. 

"That's it," he encourages against your flesh, the vibration of his voice adding another layer to the building pleasure. "Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The leg draped over his shoulder trembles as tension builds within you, coiling tighter with each expert movement of his mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair, earning a low groan from him that vibrates against your sensitive flesh, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, your body arching against the door as Steve works you through it, his movements slowing but not stopping until you're gasping, oversensitive, and tugging gently at his hair to signal you need a reprieve.

He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, his hands steadying you as your knees threaten to buckle. His mouth finds yours in a deep, claiming kiss that has you tasting yourself on his lips. Despite having just found release, desire flares anew at the intimate gesture. 

"Bed," you manage between kisses, tugging him toward the mattress. "Now."

Steve follows willingly, his renewed arousal evident against your hip as you both stumble onto the freshly made bed. The sheets are cool beneath your hands and knees as you crawl up the mattress, Steve right behind you. He positions himself over you, his chest against your back, hips rutting against yours. 

His lips find the sensitive spot at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hardness presses insistently against you. You arch your back, pressing your hips back against him in silent invitation. His hand slides around to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple as his other hand guides himself to your entrance. 

"Yes," you breathe, the word half-plea, half-permission. 

Steve enters you with one slow, deliberate thrust that has both of you gasping. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. The fullness, the connection—it's overwhelming in the best possible way. 

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, the words reverent and raw. 

"I love you too," you reply, reaching back to touch his face, needing that additional point of contact. 

He begins to move, slow and measured at first, letting you both savor each sensation. His rhythm builds steadily, each thrust slightly deeper, slightly harder than the last. Your other hand clutches at the sheets, anchoring yourself as pleasure builds once more. The only sounds in the room are your mingled breaths, occasional whispered endearments, and the soft rustle of sheets beneath you.

"Faster," you plead, pushing back against him to emphasize your need.

Steve's restraint breaks at your words. His pace increases, each thrust more powerful than the last, the new angle hitting the intimate spot along your front wall that sends you to another level, and you moan. 

His hand slides from your breast down to where your bodies join, his fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves with unerring precision. The stimulation has you climbing rapidly toward another peak, your inner walls clenching around him as tension builds.

"Steve," you gasp, the word both warning and plea. 

"I've got you," he promises, his voice strained with his own building release. "Always." 

Your second orgasm crashes through you with surprising intensity, your body shuddering beneath his as waves of pleasure wash over you in relentless succession. Steve follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he spills inside you with a deep groan that reverberates through your connected bodies.

For several heartbeats, you remain locked together, both catching your breath as the aftershocks of pleasure gradually subside. Steve presses tender kisses along your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace that makes you feel cherished beyond words. 

When he finally eases out of you, you both collapse onto the mattress, limbs entangled, skin cooling in the quiet afternoon air. Steve gathers you into his chest, his arm draped protectively over your waist.

"That certainly not a nap," you murmur against his jaw, your voice languid with satisfaction, lips brushing against his beard.

Steve's chest rumbles with quiet laughter. "We still have time," he points out, but the way his hand roams your back and the push of his thigh between your legs suggests he’s not considering sleep just yet.

And you don’t sleep. 

You kiss, you grind and grope and pleasure each other some more. After what seems like far too soon but is an hour later, Steve coaxes you out of the bed, but into the shower where he fucks you again against the cool tiled wall. 

"It feels strange," you admit, wrapping a towel around your torso. "Being here when there's so much happening."

Steve nods. "Strange but good," he says, his shoulders squared but relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Jake was right."

"Don't tell him that," you say with a small laugh. 

Steve laughs, securing his own towel around his waist before stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Our secret, then." 

You lean back against him, savoring the solid warmth of his chest against your back, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, you both stand there, reflected in the slightly fogged bathroom mirror—your skin flushed, hair damp, eyes bright. You look happy. Both of you. Despite the weight of expectation hanging over this day, despite the exhaustion of the campaign trail, despite the uncertainty that awaits.

You check the clock on the wall—nearly five o'clock. The bubble you've been living in for the last few hours is about to pop.

"We should get ready," you say reluctantly, running your fingers through your damp hair. "Car will be here in thirty minutes."

Steve nods, but instead of moving toward his clothes, he stays exactly where he is, arms around you, lips pressing warm kisses along your shoulder. "Five more minutes," he whispers against your skin, and you're tempted—so tempted—to give in, to stay locked in this private world where it's just the two of you, no campaign, no country watching, no history being made.

But duty calls, as it always does. 

"Five minutes," you agree, turning in his arms to face him. "But actual getting ready has to happen." 

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles down at you. "Deal." His hands come up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones with such tenderness it makes your chest ache. "Whatever happens tonight," he says, his voice low and serious, "this has been the greatest adventure of my life." 

"Better than fighting aliens?" you tease, but your voice catches on the words. 

"Much better," he confirms without hesitation. "Fighting alongside the Avengers was about saving the world. This—" his hand gestures between you, encompassing everything unspoken, "—this has been about making it better."

The weight of his words settles over you, and you rise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a kiss that carries everything you can't articulate—gratitude, love, partnership, hope. 

When you pull away, Steve's eyes remain closed for a beat, as if he's committing the moment to memory. Then he inhales deeply, his shoulders squaring with familiar determination. 

"Time to get dressed," he says, dropping one final kiss to your forehead before stepping away. 

You both move with practiced efficiency, the routine of preparing for public appearances so ingrained now it requires little thought. Steve selects a fresh navy suit—the same color as this morning but a different cut. After taking care of your hair and makeup, you stand much longer flipping through the options in your closet, considering the wardrobe that has been expertly curated and tailored for you but that you’re largely unfamiliar with since these clothes have been here, not on the road with you. 

As you rifle through options, it doesn't help that your eyes keep being drawn to a very conspicuous piece at the very end. 

The conspicuous garment bag with your wedding dress. 

Your fingers brush against the protective plastic, memories of that day flooding back with unexpected intensity. The intricate lace, the delicate beading that caught the light as you walked down the aisle in that small Brooklyn church. It had been a practical choice at the time—a wedding arranged for political strategy, not romance.

"You were so beautiful that day," Steve's voice comes from behind you, startling you slightly as you hadn't heard him approach. His reflection appears in the mirror beside yours, his eyes soft with remembrance. "I could see that, and I knew you had to be great—Pepper had promised me she'd pick the partner I needed, but I never imagined I was meeting the love of my life." 

You chuckle, though your eyes glisten slightly with tears—partly because Steve's words move you, and partly because, in hindsight, you recognize that day was tougher than you ever initially allowed yourself to admit. 

"I didn't expect this, either," you admit, turning to face him properly. "Any of it. I thought I was making a political arrangement with a good man. I never imagined..." You gesture between you, at the intimacy that has grown between you, unexpected and profound. 

“You were beautiful that day, but you also looked so determined, so fearless, I was thrown for a loop.”

You laugh again. “Are you serious? I was walking down the aisle to marry Captain America, who was still technically a stranger to me since he’d ditched our first date to meet a former president instead, and I’d also had a rather tense conversation where I’d just revealed to my parents why I was really rushing in to a marriage that hadn’t been on their radar at all. I was all game face and determination because I was barely holding it together.”

Steve's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. "I had no idea. Like I said, you seemed so composed."

"That's what you saw," you say, leaning into his touch. "Years of practice hiding nerves. But inside, I was a mess. There was no turning back. And I didn't want to, even though I knew it wouldn’t be easy. And then you took my hand and it felt..."

"Steadying," he finishes for you.

"Yes," you admit. 

"Even then, something about us just worked." His thumb traces your cheekbone. He sighs. “I wish we could do it all over again, do it right.”

You shake your head, responding immediately, “I don’t! There’s no way we’re here, like this, exactly this kind of in love if we’d done it any other way.” You take his other hand in both of yours as you continue, “This version of us is what I want for the rest of our lives.”

Steve kisses you fiercely, and when you break apart, he says, "You're right, I know you're right, but I didn't even propose to you."

You blink, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice. "What?" 

"I never proposed," he repeats, taking both your hands in his. His eyes are bright with emotion. "You deserved that moment, at least. A real proposal, not a political arrangement hammered out over pitches and contracts."

A smile tugs at your lips. "Steve, we're married, that’s the important thing." 

"I know." His thumbs trace circles on your palms, a gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all your own. Then he reaches out to touch the garment bag, his fingers tracing the outline of the dress within. "We should renew our vows," he says. "After all this. A real ceremony, for us this time."

The suggestion catches you off guard, but warmth spreads through your chest at the thought. "I'd like that," you say softly.

A knock at the bedroom door - muffled as it’s filtered from the bedroom to the en suite bathroom - interrupts the moment. "Five minutes, sir, ma'am," comes the voice of one of the Secret Service agents.

"Thank you," Steve calls back, his eyes never leaving yours.

You turn back to your wardrobe. “You go, you’re distracting! I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”

“Alright,” he laughs. "I'll see you downstairs," he says, pressing one more quick kiss to your temple before moving to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, looking back at you with an expression that makes your heart skip. "Thank you. For everything."

Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving you with your thoughts and a closet full of clothes. You run your fingers over the options, finally selecting a dark green dress that complements Steve's navy suit. 

As you slip into the dress, your mind races with possibilities for the night ahead. The polls have been unpredictable, the race unlike any in modern history. By morning, your life could look dramatically different—or perhaps not. Either way, something fundamental has shifted during these months of the campaign, and there's no going back to who you were before. The woman who walked down the aisle in that wedding dress feels like a stranger now—someone who couldn't possibly have imagined where this path would lead.

You give yourself one final check in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the tailored dress that was built to fit your body like a glove, giving you confidence in your curves, and adjusting your hair. The face that looks back at you is tired but luminous, eyes bright with purpose and something else—a quiet confidence that wasn't there before. Whatever happens tonight, you're ready. 

next part: Election Day, part 2

Coming toward the end of the series, I'm back with a regular Friday update! Ta da! Are you proud of me? 🥹

Somehow I thought Election Day would be one chapter, but since it's such a big day, it was inevitable that it would need to be split in two - I just didn't know that until we got here hahaha! When I got to this point in the chapter, we should just be glad it leant itself to a natural enough breaking point. Story-wise there are just about as many scenes left for them for the second half of this very long and essential day.

But I'm also happy that we'll get to have one more chapter (and probably an epilogue...tbd on the election results).

(and tbh, I'm only 90% locked in on my decision for the election results...)

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[munsonsmixtapes]

Just You and Me: Part One

Hello, everyone! I was reading this series by @the-witty-pen-name and was inspired to make a fic where y’all chose who reader ends up with! On every part of this series after this one, there will be a poll where you can vote whether you want reader to end up with Steve or Eddie or both of them! This has been so much fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary: You convince Steve to fake date you in order to get Eddie's attention, unbeknownst to you that Steve is actually very much in love with you.

part two part three

The diner is packed as you sit at a booth, your best friend across from you, eating his stack of pancakes while you've barely even touched yours. You're too nervous to eat, and honestly, watching Steve chow down is making you feel sick. there's just a lot of riding on the whole thing and you know you're going to sound crazy for asking him in the first place, but you still want to at least try.

Steve would do anything for you, you know that, but you're wondering if maybe this is crossing a line. You push your plate to the center of the table and sip on your soda, still trying to get the courage to tell him why you really wanted to meet him there. It definitely wasn't just for pancakes.

Steve isn't stupid. He knows something's going on that you're not telling him. You look sick, nervous and he hates seeing you like that. He just wants you to say what you need to say so you'll feel better again. He knows you're only chugging down your soda so you don't have to speak and he hates that for you, trying his best to not seem concerned because for whatever reason, that always somehow makes it all worse.

You finally get the courage to look up at him and hate that he's put on that dopey smile that always seems to be reserved for you. He's finished his pancakes so now he's just staring at you, waiting for you to just get on with it, politely, though, because he's Steve.

"What I'm about to ask of you is crazy and I know that. You are more than welcome to say no and I won't be offended if you do," you finally say before taking a deep breath.

"Are you asking me to bury a dead body? Did you kill them? No, I actually don't want to know. Wait, yeah I do. I should know if my best friend has committed murder." He's speaking so quickly that you can barely even understand what he's saying.

"I don't need help burying a body and I didn't murder anyone. I'm not asking you to do anything illegal, Steve. I would never ask you to do that. That's why we have Eddie, right?" Steve knows that Eddie would be the one to help you out with that kind of thing and that pisses him off. Fucking Eddie. It's just been the two of you your whole lives and then this fucker comes in and ruins Steve's whole plan. Well, he would have if Steve would have just stopped being a pussy and asked you out already.

Truth be told, the man has been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you. All you've ever been is friends, but he wants to be more. And he wants it so badly that the whole thing makes his chest ache. The only reason why he hasn't made a move in the almost fifteen years you've been friends is because as much as he loves you romantically, he doesn't want your relationship to change. He's afraid that if the two of you got together, you'd eventually break up and then he'd lose you for good.

"Right, so what's this about?" He asks before taking a sip from his own glass. For once, he's unable to read the situation. He almost always knows what's going on with you, but right now, he's got nothing.

"Well, speaking of Eddie, well, I sort of have a huge crush on him." Steve doesn't know why you're telling him this. He's known for a while. You're so obvious about it that it sometimes makes him cringe. He wishes he could give you some of his subtlety so you’d look a little more cool around Eddie.

"Duh." He's laughing now and for once, it's a joke you don't get, like it's something just for Steve and Steve alone.

"You know?"

"Y/n, all of Hawkins knows. You're not exactly subtle. But what does this have to do with me?"

"I was wondering if you maybe...would be willing to fake date me in order to get his attention." His eyes widen at your request. Whatever he thought you were going to say, it defintely wasn't that.

"Yeah, nice try. Not happening." He can't do it. He won't. He would do just about anything for you, but not this. This is where he’s drawing the line.

"You're not even going to consider it?" You're pouting now and if things were different, he'd kiss it away, or maybe he'd just give in because he almost always does when it comes to your silly ideas. This one, though, has got to be the silliest of them all.

"You said I could say no so this is me saying no." He crosses his arms over his chest in a sort of "that's final" manner and you know you should just forget the whole thing. It was all just a pipe dream anyway.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to help, it’s that he can’t. He would actually love to pretend to be your boyfriend and act all mushy with you like he’s wanted for years, but none of it will be real. It’s just going to be a fake relationship with fake feelings and fake kisses and he just can’t take that. It will all just hurt too much when he watches you running into Eddie’s arms when the thing is all over.

He already feels like a dick and seeing the dejected look on your face as you stir your soda with your straw is starting to feel like you stabbed him in the chest. And you might as well have. It would hurt much less.

Guilt is beginning to eat at him as he looks at you. That sad look on your face is making him reconsider. You do so much for him so he doesn’t know why he can’t do this little thing for you. It’ll be maybe a couple weeks tops, right? That wouldn’t be too bad. And not to toot his own horn or anything, but he’s a great actor. Well, he only thinks so because The Hawkins Post article that covered his fourth grade class’s performance of The Wizard of Oz applauded his role as Toto.

Maybe he can fake date you. Maybe it could be fun and he’s just overthinking it. He just wants you to be happy, and the thought of you possibly asking someone else is starting to make him feel sick.

“I guess I could just ask Robin,” you mumble, more to yourself than him, but he can still very much hear you. He can’t believe how quick you’re switching up on him, how quickly you’re able to find an alternate now that he’s said no. He’s usually your first and only option for things so now that you’re even considering asking anyone else-well, the knife has been twisted.

“I see how quick you are to replace me,” he grumbles. “And with Robin?”

“Well, who else am I going to ask? My first choice said no.”

“Or maybe you could cut the shit and just tell him how you feel. Eddie likes it when people are straight up with him.”

You know he’s right, but actually putting your feelings out there is terrifying, especially to one of your friends. You feel sick even thinking about it, the worst possible outcome playing in your head. You can vividly see Eddie laughing at you, the sounds echoing, sounding distorted, making you feel small and scared.

Yeah, there’s no chance that you’re letting that happen even though Eddie would never laugh at you because of something like that. If he were going to reject you, he’d let you down easy and be nothing but a gentleman about it.

“Alright, fine, fine,” Steve pulls you out of your thoughts. “Jesus, you’re lucky I love you.”

“Aww, I love you too, Stevie.” You’ve got on a smug smirk and he’s prepared to shut that shit down. As much as he loves you, he’s not doing this without something in return.

“Not so fast.”

“What?” You’re genuinely confused, convinced that it was a done deal and now you’re unsure if he’s actually going to go through with it or not.

“I mean, what do I get out of this? What’s in it for Steve?” He leans back against the booth, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The satisfaction of a job well done?” You ask with a shrug and he just shakes his head, unimpressed.

“If it works,” he scoffs. “What else?”

“My love and affection?” That should be a given.

“Boring,” he yawns. “You have to cover any family video shift I ask of you and you have to do my laundry for a month.”

“You’re kidding.” Your shoulders slump as you realize that you’re actually going to have to agree to his terms if you ever want to have a chance with Eddie.

“Afraid not. You didn’t seriously think I’d do it for free, did you?” You sort of did because he always does, but you suppose that this is much bigger than his other favors.

“I don’t know, maybe. But you’ve got a deal.” You reach across the table and put your hand out for him to shake.

“Really? That easily. Shit, you must be desperate.” He shakes your hand and that’s that. Steve is now officially your fake boyfriend.

“I am.”

“This better be worth it.” God, this is going to kill him, but anything for his best friend, right?

“Oh, it will be,” you tell him as you down the rest of your soda as you grab your purse that’s sitting next to you before you and Steve stand from your table and you walk side by side to the front where you pay for the meal. It’s the least you can do for Steve helping you out like this, right?

-

“You are such a dingus,” Robin tells Steve. He’s over at her apartment, the two of them talking over mugs of coffee at her kitchen table. He raced right over after breakfast with you to discuss the colossal mistake he just made, desperately wanting his other best friend’s advice.

“What the hell else was I supposed to do, Rob? She was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes.” He’s saying it like that was the only option he had when he could have easily said no and you would have dropped it.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington. Why can’t you just tell her that you love her?”

“And risk ruining one of the best friendship I’ve ever had? No thanks.”

“I can’t but also can believe you’ve gotten yourself into this. It’s just like you to help the woman you love get another man. Just so you know, I don’t support this.”

Robin loves you, you’re one of her best friends, and while she doesn’t think you ever ask too much of Steve, she does think that he tends to overlook his feelings to spare yours a lot of the time. He’d much rather risk his own happiness if it means he’s helping you in some sort of way.

While she loves that he’s willing to go above and beyond for you, she still thinks that’s it’s important that he takes care of himself. She just wants what’s best for him and hates that he’ll spread himself way too thin just to see a smile on your face.

“No one was asking you to,” he glares and she just mimics his facial expression. “I wasn’t asking for advice, I was just telling you what’s going on so you wouldn’t think it was real and blow my secret.”

“You’re pathetic,” she shakes her head. She honestly doesn’t know Steve still hasn’t told you the truth. The two of you could be married or at least engaged by now, but he’s too much of a chicken to just admit his feelings for you.

He’ll claim it’s because he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship, but Robin knows the truth. She knows that he’s just afraid of putting himself out there. She’s seen the women zipping in and out of his life and not one of them has stuck. As much as he claims he wants to love and be loved, he’s scared. Terrified, even. He’s convinced it will all just crash and burn and he’ll be all alone. Again.

“I know,” he whines, resting his head onto the table before quickly leaning back up and running a hand through his hair. “But hey, if said no, she was going to ask you.”

“Me?” She asks, her eyebrows shooting up as her big eyes widen. “I could have been her fake significant other? Shit, I would have done it for free.” Robin has always thought you were pretty and shit, having everyone think that you were her girlfriend would have been a goddamn honor.

“You’re not her type.” She knows exactly what he means by that, but she just feels like messing with him.

“Oh, and you are?” That’s salt in the wound and she knows it. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to take it back.

“You know what I mean,” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “And besides, you’re a terrible liar so it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.

“Well, I would have sold it much better than you,” she scoffs. “But maybe not since you always look at her with the longing stares. How she doesn’t know is beyond me. Anyway, I have to get to work. I’ll see you later, lover boy.”

As Robin leaves, Steve’s not so quick to get up. He just stares down into his coffee mug, gathering his thought about the whole thing. One the one hand, he wants to help you, but one the other, he’s already starting to feel hurt about deceiving his friend. Eddie’s someone he’s gotten really close to over the years and he’d hate to lose someone so special to him just because of something like that.

And what happens if you actually do end up with Eddie? Will Steve resent him for it? It wouldn’t exactly be fair since Eddie has no idea that Steve is in love with you, but he just doesn’t think he’d be able to stand by and watch the two of you behave like a couple when that’s all he’s wanted pretty much his whole life.

But there’s no turning back now. He’s going to stick it out because he doesn’t want to let you down. He’s going to have to see this through, watching you use him to get another man while having no idea that’s he’s fallen madly and deeply in love with you.

He drains the last few sips of his coffee then puts the mug in the dishwasher before heading out, making sure to lock Robin’s door behind him. He gets into his car and sits for a second, thinking to himself that he’s about to be in for one hell of a ride.

[snoopyhughes]

to be loved is to be known: paige bueckers

hello and welcome to the second installment of my series, to be loved is to be known! Paige also screams acts of service to me, and she won the poll so this one will be with Paigey. if you have any requests for this series, feel free to send them in.

1.3k words, there is mentions of both feminine and androgynous energy from reader but THIS IS A WLW FIC!

to be loved is to be known...

Let's start here: Paige is your BIGGEST fan. Just as the gif shows, Paige loves so hard and so deeply. Paige cares infinitely more about her loved ones than she does herself (which is something you're working on with her), but it shows in the way she loves you. She praises your smallest of actions. But it isn't trivial. Paige is truly proud of everything you do and all that you are.

Did something after procrastinating? She's showering you with kisses for a job well done. Got a half decent grade on an assignment or test? She's taking you out to dinner to celebrate. And with the big wins, she will blow you out of the water with the things she does for you to celebrate.

A promotion at work calls for a beautiful new necklace, a #5 proudly across your neck, spelled out in diamonds. College graduation calls for a new car, because every time you turn your old car on, Paige holds on for dear life, scoffing about how her next brand deal would go towards buying you your dream car. Living with Paige is a dream (which I'll get into later), but one thing Paige would do when it's time for the two of you to move on from your quaint yet lovely Storrs apartment is insist the two of you build a house together, from the ground up.

Paige would want the house to be perfectly your own. If you worked out, a full gym would be there for you. Paige would insist that you needed a library for your books, a get ready with me room, an office for you, the bathroom of your dreams, staged exactly how you have always dreamed of. You definitely have to talk her off the ledge for some of the things she insists you need, but your heart swells at her dedication of wanting to create a place that's perfect for the two of you to love and live in for as long as this part of her journey lasts.

to be loved is to be known...

Going back to living with Paige, it wouldn't just be the physical structure of your home that Paige would put her heart into. Paige would be the absolute best partner to live with, no matter where you lived.

She would do whatever she could to make your life easier at home. Paige would insist on having a towel/blanket warmer in the house so she could meet you after your shower with a warm towel, or wait for you to come home from a tough presentation with a warm blanket, mugs of steaming hot cocoa ready and your favorite movie queued up on the TV.

Paige loves leaving notes all around your space. On the bedside table next to your side of the bed, on the mirror in the bathroom, outside the fridge. Little things such as "I love you" or "you're beautiful," but also small reminders as she knows sometimes you can get forgetful. "Don't forget to fill your water" or "your computer is plugged in by the couch," small things you might gloss over, but things she knows will make your life infinitely easier.

Paige also loves meeting you at home with your favorite meal from take out. She doesn't strike me as much of a cook, but I know she would love to pick up your favorite burger, pasta dish, pizza, Asian food, whatever made you happy. She had a sixth sense for knowing when you'd be tired and wouldn't want to cook, or really just when you were craving a comforting bite of your favorite restaurant's meal.

to be loved is to be known...

I feel like clothes is one of Paige's favorite parts of your relationship. I know that sounds strange, but there is nothing Paige loves more than seeing you wrapped up in her "Buckets" sweatshirt, her classic plaid pajama pants tied around your waist, lounging on the couch waiting for her to come lay with you. She melts to see you in her clothes every time.

If you had more of a feminine style, Paige would love the way your styles complement each other and balance out. She would live for matching basics, initial necklaces that never leave anyone questioning who either of you belong to, matching rings she got you for your first anniversary, matching color schemes, any way that you could show your love for each other and your commitment to each other through fashion, which Paige truly loves. Even if your styles are complete opposites, Paige will still find a way to connect the two of you together, making you look like a perfect pair.

If you had more of a masculine, street style, a style more similar to Paige, she would live for matching sneakers, matching sweat suits, matching hair styles (if possible), anything she can do to show that the two of you are connected. She would love stealing your sweatshirts, because it isn't a one way street. Paige would never be spotted in a hockey sweatshirt if it weren't for you.

Paige would love to buy things that she sees that she thinks you would look good in. This is really tough for her because she can find a way to connect basically anything to you. "It would bring out your eyes," "it would look so beautiful for our date tomorrow," "I caught you looking at it on tiktok," literally anything. You would definitely have to set boundaries with Paige about gift giving, especially with clothes, because you would need two wardrobes with the amount of clothes, shoes, and accessories Paige would want to buy you.

to be loved is to be known...

Don't get me wrong, Paige can definitely be the life of the party. But I feel that mostly, Paige would want to do what you would want to do. If you were in the mood to go out on the town, Paige would be the DD, fixing your hair and helping you into the apartment at night when you had too much, her eyes full of love, feeling so grateful that she gets to be the one to take care of you.

After a win, Paige can go either way. Sometimes she loves to go out, and other times she wants to "go home to her sweetheart," her exact words. Her teammates love to roast her for that, but she could not care any less.

She loves going out with you after wins, where people are congratulating her on the win but all she cares about is the beautiful girl on her arm, looking at her like she put the stars in the sky. No matter what Paige was wearing on her lips, it was always all over your cheeks and neck by the end of the night. She can't keep her hands, and definitely can't keep her lips off of you on a night out. It isn't even inherently sexual, she just loves you so much and wants to show you how much she loves you. Show you that she would give up everything the basketball life has to offer if you asked her. She loves you truly that much.

Don't think Paige doesn't love a night in after a game though. "Going home to her sweetheart" means stopping at the drive thru on the way home from the game, her hand never leaving your thigh, reaching over to kiss your cheek while stopped at a red light.

And when you get home, Paige loves nothing more than to change into matching pjs (she is a sucker for these), fill up your water bottles, do. your skincare routine together (which really means you doing your routing on Paige), and climbing into bed together. Sometimes you turn on a light show to watch that you've both seen countless times, or a familiar comfort movie. It doesn't matter though, because the two of you are always more wrapped up in each other, small kisses, soft "I love you's" just a true, loving environment which makes you both go to sleep feeling like your heart grew three sizes.

[problematic-yuri-poll]

Problematic Femslash Ship Tournament - FINAL

Despaircest - Junko Enoshima x Mukuro Ikusaba (Danganronpa Series) VS. DB - D-ne x B-ko (Shuuen no Shiori)

As the main bracket winner, if Despaircest wins this poll, it is automatically declared the champion. As the losers' bracket winner, if DB wins this poll, it must defeat Despaircest one last time in a second poll to be declared the champion.

Info and propaganda under cut! This will not be spoiler-free.

Problematic elements for Despaircest:

twincest, abuse, murder, toxicity, codependency

Problematic elements for DB:

yandere, toxic, dependency, murder

--

Propaganda for Despaircest:

MUKURO HAS A CANON CRUSH ON JUNKO. SHES ALWAYS FUCKING BLUSHING AROUND HER AND SHIT. THEYRE SO GAY. JUNKO LITERALLY SAYS SHE KILLED MUKURO BECAUSE IT WAS THE MOST DESPAIR SHE COULD EVER FEEL. SHE FUCKING LOVED HER TOO!!!!! - Twincest for the win! Junko also constantly abuses/tries to kill Mukuro and Mukuro is totally Into it! Plus Junko literally ends up killing Mukuro so yknow doomed yuri. They are so toxic and codependent and when Junko DOES end up killing Mukuro, she gets off to it, and says she wishes she were Mukuro!!! - They're THE incest sisters - Despaircest is soooo dear to me bc I shipped this shit even AS an anti man. Being obsessed w Junko is so entwined w Mukuro’s whole character that you cannot simply IGNORE the incest. Like man I don’t usually like twincest but these two. They are awful. - despaircest propaganda that was too big for the post:

Propaganda for DB:

d-ne is a lesbian who lacks any sense of identity for herself and struggles to get close to anyone. she falls deeply in love with b-ko, who she deems to be perfect. when she finds out b-ko's "perfect" act is just a mask she puts on, she just falls for her even more. she doesn't care about anyone other than b-ko or what anyone but b-ko thinks of her. she puts b-ko on a pedestal and devalues herself, believing she could never be on b-ko's level. when the group finds the "bookmark of demise" and strange deaths begin occurring, b-ko gets scared and d-ne wants her to be scared so she can be the one to comfort her. d-ne then steals b-ko's first kiss! when the "demise game" starts, d-ne is given the monkey's paw which allows her to wish for anything, but at the cost of taking that thing away from someone else. she immediately starts making wishes that would allow her to "become more like b-ko". when she wishes to have eyes like b-ko's, a random girl who had earlier pointed out that her eyes match b-ko's gets in an accident where her eyes get taken away and magically transferred to d-ne, and d-ne just laughs and blushes over this. d-ne goes to visit b-ko, who won't open her door because she's so scared over the demise game, and when d-ne finally gets in, she hears b-ko calling out to a-ya (another character) for help. in a fit of delusion, d-ne decides the b-ko in front of her, who called a-ya's name, "isn't b-ko" and murders her, in the end, deciding to fully become and replace b-ko, believing she's "protecting b-ko" by doing this. then d-ne wishes for all her misfortune to disappear, which works, but since she's b-ko now, she dies at the hands of b-ko's doppelganger (the misfortune that b-ko had been dealing with during the demise game). honestly we need more girls like d-ne in the world

[frostfires-blog]

Valentine's Day Poll Winner:

Top 10 MXTX Side Ships

Sorry that I'm only posting this almost 2 full days after Valentine's Day... I highly underestimated how long this was going to take and had a few things up which delayed me further... Before I start, I just wanted to remind everyone that this is what won the poll—so I'm not just putting this out to rile people up. I'd also like to reiterate that this list is based on my own opinions—so please don't get upset with me if your favourite ship isn't here or isn't in the placement you'd want to be. Admittedly putting together this list was a lot more difficult than I thought it was going to be... Considering I value ships that have a good basis in the canonical narrative and avoid pairings with a lot of toxicity, there weren't many options... There are also a quite few popular ships that I have mixed feelings on, so I chose not to include them... That being said constructive comments are welcome! I'd love for you to politely share your own favourites in the comments!

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-> Honourable Mentions:

Lan Yuan × Jing Ling

Lan Yuan × Lan Jingyi

Sha Hualing × Liu Mingyan

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-> Top 10 MXTX Side Ships:

10.) Moshang │ Mobei-Jun × Shang Qinghua

I'm sure a lot of you are going to be disappointed that the only canonical M/M side pairing in MXTX's novel was placed so low on my list... I don't know how to explain it other than that I like the idea of them as pairing but don't quite like the execution... I feel that they weren't given enough time to properly grow on me and that we don't see enough of their dynamic for me to like them as much as the other ships on this list. They have a lot of issues that weren't handled as carefully as I would've liked due to SVSSS' light-hearted tone. That being said I like how they gradually bring out the best in one another—with Shang Qinghua becoming more standoffish and bold while Mobei-Jun becomes more expressive and compromising.

09.) Tianlang-Jun × Su Xiyan

Admittedly it's a little hypocritical of me to place them above MoShang considering that these two got even less screentime and things ended tragically... But I really liked the bit of their dynamic that we saw. Tianlang-Jun is such a fun character and Su Xiyan complements him so well. What I appreciate most about this ship is its subversion of a few conventional tropes, particularly with Tianlang-Jun being characterised as a "lovestruck teenage girl" and a "pampered young lady who fled from home and was oblivious to the world".  In contrast, Su Xiyan is characterised as a "wealthy young master," "cold and ruthless," and "solemn and driven."

08.) QuanYin │ Quan Yizhen × Yin Yu

The fandom has many opposing opinions on this ship and while I have my conflicting thoughts, I can't help but want to root for them. They have an intriguing yet complex dynamic in the canon narrative. While Quan Yizhen is strongly attached to Yin Yu and admires and cares for him, Yin Yu intentionally avoids Quan Yizhen, claiming that he despises him—though this hatred appears to be a front to conceal his own guilt and uneasiness. I find it incredibly moving that, despite everything that has transpired, Quan Yizhen has chosen to believe in Yin Yu's sincerity—despite what others say—and continues searching for him. Yin Yu is someone who struggles to see the good in himself—while Quan Yizhen can only see the good in Yin Yu. Despite their difficulties communicating, the extent they've gone to defend one another despite everything makes their care for one another evident.

07.) Pei Xiu × Banyue

Dare I say that this ship is one of the most underrated ones in the TGCF fandom… They somewhat serve as a parallel to HuaLian like most other hinted ship pairs in the series do. Pei Xiu's guilt and helplessness to save Banyue—along with his willingness to sacrifice himself and others to protect and avenge her—are reminiscent of Hua Cheng's feelings and actions. Similarly, Banyue's benevolent beliefs led to her achieving no success and culminated in her suffering, drawing a subtle parallel with Xie Lian's tribulations. On the other hand, Pei Xiu and Banyue differentiate themselves from HuaLian in a lot of ways. While Pei Xiu values Banyue over her own wishes and ends up harming innocent people, Hua Cheng greatly respects Xie Lian's desire to protect others and sacrifices himself instead. TGCF delves into the interplay between devotion, morality, and obsession—with several subsidiary relationships depicting the alternative trajectories the main pair could have followed under slightly different circumstances. This results in dynamics that are both notably comparable but also significantly distinct from the main pair in several of its prominent side pairs.

06.) FengQing │Feng Xin × Mu Qing

I'm sure their presence on their list was expected given that they're the most popular side ship in TGCF. Their immense popularity isn't without cause and can largely be attributed to their dynamic chemistry and abundance of comical canonical interactions. I'm a huge fan of the rivals-to-lovers trope which these two embody perfectly with their tension-filled interactions and contrasting personalities. Despite their distaste for one another they are almost always seen collaborating with one another, often not needing words to do so. They have also saved and protected one another numerous times. They bring out the best in one another as they are very closely matched in numerous respects, and as such their competitiveness drives them to strive for improvement. Although their lengthy history together denotes that they have a better understanding of each other than anyone else, the long-standing misconceptions they have of one another provide opportunities for them to grow as they work through them—which lends their dynamic a sense of novelty. Despite their contrasting viewpoints and personalities, they have the capacity to be a good match given Mu Qing's desire for acceptance and stability and Feng Xin's innate reliability and protectiveness.

05.) SongXiao │ Song Lan × Xiao Xingchen

It's a common conception that Xiao Xingchen was supposed to have his own separate story—I think that the depth of the bond between these two makes this even more apparent. That being said, the Yi City arc integrates itself well into the narrative of MDZS. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen serve as a great parallel to WangXian. Both Xiao Xingchen and Wei Wuxian had noble aspirations and promising futures but instead fell into despair after doing what they felt was right brought them and their loved ones suffering. Furthermore, both characters sacrificed a part of themselves for a loved one, leaving themselves vulnerable. Likewise, Song Lan and Lan Wangji have similar dispositions and have both erratically pushed away the person they cared about most—leaving them to lament the person's death as they were unable to save them. Although their story ends tragically, their care for one another is evident in their final actions: Song Lan not alerting Xiao Xingchen of his presence to avoid hurting the latter with the revelation of Xue Yang's deception, and Xiao Xingchen taking his own life after discovering that he had been deceived into killing Song Lan. Furthermore, Xiao Xingchen's willingness to give up his sight for Song Lan is not just a display of his innate altruism—or to assuage his guilt—but is also a testament to his care for the latter.

04.) Pei Ming × Yushi Huang

I've really come to like this ship upon my second full read-through of TGCF. While they don't get many interactions, the ones they do get are quite telling. I never get tired of seeing the "pretty boy gets brought down to earth by a nonchalant girl" trope. In this regard, these two are somewhat reminiscent of the dynamic Jinshi x Maomao (The Apothecary Diaries) has. Pei Ming's awkwardness around Yushi Huang, and how he repeatedly finds himself saved by her despite his masculine chauvinism, is incredibly amusing. I maintain that this is the only pairing in which Pei Ming is not depicted as a suave heartbreaker—given that Yushi Huang subconsciously forces Pei Ming to confront his flaws and archaic viewpoints. In my opinion, a healthy relationship is one that continually encourages you to better yourself. Yushi Huang's genuine selflessness and humility sharply contrast with Pei Ming's excessive arrogance and egocentricity. Pei Ming and Yushi Huang are essentially the antithesis of one another, which adds to their complexity and chemistry. Their dynamic is further compounded by their uncomfortable history which necessitates for them to actively work at things for a relationship to work out.  In the original novel, I got the impression that there were some unrequited feelings on Pei Ming's end—and from what I've heard the revised version further hints at this. With that in mind, another aspect of this pairing that I appreciate is that it provides a sense of fulfilment regardless of whether it culminates in a mutual relationship or remains unreciprocated. In the latter case, there is a sense of poetic justice as Xuan Ji's curse on Pei Ming will have manifested as a punitive karma.

03.) LiuShen │ Liu Qingge × Shen Yuan

I'm not sure if this counts as the side ship, but I'm going to opt to include them... I've spoken about LiuShen here before—but I'll repeat a lot of what I said because it still stands... SVSSS is the only MXTX novel where I've fully committed to shipping a protagonist with a character aside from their main romantic interest. I just find something about LiuShen's dynamic so gripping... I truly adore all of their interactions. The little presents Liu Qingge occasionally brings Shen Qingqiu from missions along with him constantly returning the latter's lost fans are the cutest detail. They balance each other out so well, with Shen Qingqiu relying on Liu Qingge's physical strength and Liu Qingge trusting in Shen Qingqiu's vast knowledge and intellect. Liu Qingge is a relatively stubborn, aloof, and straightforward person—but Shen Qingqiu brings out this sort of determined, flustered, and complex side of him. The saddest thing for me is that it's highly implied in the extras that Liu Qingge thought that Shen Qingqiu was his soulmate... Shen Qingqiu while often subtly annoyed by Liu Qingge's aloofness and bluntness, clearly has a degree of respect and admiration for him. The way he sometimes finds himself inadvertently poetically describing Liu Qingge's features is both amusing and endearing. Another aspect in the canon narrative that makes me gravitate towards these two is the fact that Liu Qingge spent all those years trying to get Shen Qingqiu's deceased body back from Luo Binghe—despite there being nothing in return for him other than having his pride repeatedly trampled on. Out of all the MXTX pairings, I probably read the most fanfics of these two (& WangXian), so please drop any LiuShen fic recs in the comments below!

02.) XuanLi │ Jin Zixuan × Jiang Yanli

Generally speaking, I find people in the fandom either really like this pairing or really dislike it. While I somewhat understand people's misgivings, I do think many overlook the context of their relationship ignore and Jin Zixuan's character development. Although Jin Zixuan is initially immature and arrogant, he becomes more mature, upstanding and caring. His initial dissatisfaction with his arranged engagement to Jiang Yanli is comprehensible—considering no one desires to be coerced into a lifelong commitment—particularly when confronted with numerous instances of arranged unions resulting in turmoil. After their engagement is dissolved, Jin Zixuan is free to pursue anyone he likes, and it is only after maturing that he falls for Jiang Yanli's compassion and thoughtfulness. Only once his misguided assumptions about her are dispelled is he able to pursue her of his own volition. They complement each other—albeit in a more nuanced manner than WangXian. Jiang Yanli acts as a source of tranquillity, humility, and sincerity to Jin Zixuan—who is otherwise encircled by ostentatious and duplicitous individuals. While Jin Zixuan provides fulfilment, security, and assurance to Jiang Yanli—who has experienced significant loss and upheaval. In this sense, they remind me a lot of Kyo x Tohru (Fruits Basket), which makes me adore them even more. They were both brought up in households with parents who were constantly at odds and as a result, they share a strong desire to better themselves for each other. This is most notably seen when Jin Zixuan invites Wei Wuxian to their son's one-month banquet—despite their prior disputes—to make Jiang Yanli happy. It was truly endearing to see him swallow his pride and embarrassment whilst courting her, and one of my favourite details is that teases him about this after their marriage. I'd give anything for an added scene of them interacting with Jin Ling, their son who embodies their best traits despite them never having had the opportunity to raise him.

01.) Beefleaf │ He Xuan × Shi Qingxuan

Unsurprisingly, I had to rank these two at #1! Why am I so infatuated with these two, despite what occurred during the Black Water Arc? I do not know... But what I do know is that I don't go a week without thinking about them and what could have been... Their dynamic centres around the interplay of vengeance, duty, guilt, friendship, and betrayal—making them narratively complex and intriguing in a way that's different from HuaLian. I fear I'm secretly a sucker for unexpected angst... They pack in so many great complex tropes that I can't begin to list them all... Although I'm typically drawn towards happy endings, they satisfy my deep-seated yearning for angst—in a way that only Eren x Mikasa (Attack on Titan) has managed to do. The Black Water Arc is so messy because while you absolutely feel for Shi Qingxuan, you can totally understand He Xuan as well. That duality is quite difficult to pull off... I believe that we oftentimes tend to focus on Shi Qingxuan's sentiments towards He Xuan while rarely examining the latter's feelings. It's evident that He Xuan wanted to despise Shi Qingxuan but couldn't quite bring himself to. He practically acknowledged that he had wanted Shi Qingxuan to choose him over Shi Wudu by offering him several chances. While Shi Qingxuan never picked up on anything, and He Xuan couldn't let go of his desire for vengeance—the sentiment of "what if" will always remain. While I would've liked to see more of them in the series—particularly after their fallout—I liked how ambiguous and nuanced their feelings are portrayed towards one another. Although it is improbable that they would ever reconcile—it is apparent that Shi Qingxuan will spend the rest of his life rehashing the past, dwelling on overlooked details while wishing he had done things differently. Similarly, it is implied that He Xuan will be watching over Shi Qingxuan from a distance, wondering if he made the right decision—as suggested by the former returning the latter's fan and not having dissipated after exacting his revenge. They possess strikingly complementary yet contrasting aesthetics and attributes that evoke an ethereal, poetic quality. This is undoubtedly what allows me to hear them in so many songs and see them in so many things…  Just like with many other TGCF side pairings, several parallels can be drawn between Beefleaf and Hualian. Both Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian—who are apart of the Famous Four Tales—are among the few gods who are compassionate, moral, and fair. He Xuan and Hua Cheng—both ghost kings apart of the Four Calamities—are seen as antisocial, haughty, and bothersome.

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Thanks to everyone who participated in the poll... Hopefully, this met your expectations. You're more than welcome to share your own lists and any fic recs in the comments! There are a lot of points that I chose not to expand on due to time constraints... So, if there's anything you want me to elaborate on, then feel free to send me an ask. My inbox is also open if you have any other questions or requests...

[chasholidays]

we're back baybee

Hello friends! After a few years' hiatus, I'm going to once again take prompts for holiday fills. If you're new here, here's how it works.

You and some number of other people fill out THIS GOOGLE FORM

I receive all the responses and close the form on OCTOBER 4 2024 AT 8 AM EASTERN TIME

I use a variety of methods (personal bias, random number generator, chicken innards, etc) to pick from the submitted prompts and get a selection that I feel confident I can complete

On December 1, I will start posting! The fills we be posted by @chasholidays on tumblr and also uploaded to AO3

My planned posting schedule is that I will post TWO fics each weekend day (eighteen fics total) and ONE fic per weekday (twenty-two fics total) for a total of FORTY FICS over the month of December. Depending on how I'm feeling and how many prompts I get, I might decide to do more! But I'm going to commit to 40 minimum and go from there.

For many reasons, I'm not planning to tell people in advance if their fics have been selected or not. So in December, you will either see your fic posted or not, and it will be a surprise! If your prompt isn't selected, I hope another prompt will be something you're excited about

Because I am a human person with feelings, I will give some number of slots to my friends/mutuals without putting them through the RNG. Just FYI

The other thing I want to address is that this year, for the first time in a while, I'm letting fandoms be a free-for-all in terms of prompting! I'm going to have some specific information for my three biggest fandoms from my poll (The 100, 9-1-1, Tortall), but there's also going to be a free response form where you can shoot your shot on basically anything you want. Unlike the big three fandoms, I won't try to make promises about getting a representative sample from the other fandoms, and I'm also going to be more willing to just knock out prompts that don't catch my interest. I think of the other fandom option as high risk/high reward; I might bounce off the prompt completely, but if it tickles my fancy, you'll go directly into the fill pool without having to brave the RNG.

Okay god this is already so long but this is the LAST THING. As is tradition, I'm also offering alternate POV fics and continuations, which I used to call timestamps but that terminology has fallen out of favor and no one knew what I meant so I'm retiring it. Basically, this is an alternate perspective of or a sequel/prequel/some kind of continuation to a fic or series I've already written. You can pick from anything I have on AO3. These will be have their own forms, so if you want one of these, you won't pick a fandom, just provide a link to the story in question and provide some additional info.

Oh and this is one entry per person. If you submit multiple I'll take the first and delete the others, and if you submit too many I'll delete the first one too tbh.

tl;dr: here's the google form again

submit your prompt by 10/4/2024; send asks to @ponyregrets if you have them

[doyoulikethis-videogame-song]

Ask Masterpost 10/12/2024

I will be answering all the BLOG RELATED asks I have received since opening my inbox here :). Going forward, this is how all asks will be answered (if they are not time dependent or something). I will make a new post with new asks every saturday.

my friends and i have been including youtube links in our submissions. is that helpful or annoying?

It's helpful! Thank you :)

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Have you gotten a lot of repeat submissions? Like, songs requested by multiple people? If so, what’s the most requests you’ve gotten for a single song? (You don’t need to say what song it is if it’s one you haven’t posted yet)

I don't remember the name, but I've received a song from 'In Stars and Time' about seven times now

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I submitted a song from an indie game listing the author as the composer, but then I realised that's not exactly true, as all the music in the game is from a public free gallery. because of that, there's no official upload on youtube. would that still be ok? p.s. thank you for your work, I've come to really love this blog and i look forward to the new polls every day 💕

I'm going to say no, even though the song is in a video game it's not technically intended for the video game itself. I'm curious as to what game this is though.

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@kaerran said: Speaking of which: I avoided submitting a game earlier because the only versions I found on a quick search were entire-soundtrack-as-one-video and I wanted to make things easier on you. Is it okay if I submit my mid-90s games even if they don't have nice convenient Youtube links?

Of course that's okay, I'll find a way to work around it even if I have to crop the specific song out myself.

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Say a song that's made for a game and is in said game gets an official release of an alternative version that *isn't* in a game. (Ex: an extended version or a version with vocals) I assume that the in-game version of the song is acceptable, while an alternative version that isn't in any games are not. Asking because I've already submitted a couple in-game versions of songs that have official extended/vocal versions that aren't in-game.

Both are acceptable, for two reasons:

It's an official, original release/remix, presumably on an official album, for a video game, so it is technically a form of VGM even if it's not in the video game itself

I wouldn't be allowed to post the official NieR remix albums if I excluded these types of songs

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@moonlight-fox said: Hey. Question for when you reopen submissions - For songs that have lyrics, do you want the name of the lead vocalist as well as the composer, or just the composer?

If you know both, feel free to include both! Specifying would help a ton as well. Submitting the artists is optional as I'll almost always go verify it myself but it is very much appreciated.

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are there any games with more notable soundtracks that you're surprised HAVEN'T been submitted yet (if any)?

As of writing this, I haven't seen a single song from Persona 5.

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Hi, love the blog! Is there any way you could tag similar series? Like, tagging all the soulsborne games with a from software tag, that sort of thing? If not, it’s cool, I would just find it useful. Have a great day, keep up the awesome work! <3

I started doing this when I saw this ask, I hope the way I've categorized things is good so far! If anyone has any suggestions for further categorization feel free to send them in my asks (within reason, lol)

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can you put the number of the song in the anonymized title? would help us keep track of which song we're listening to if we're also scrolling

I also started doing this as soon as I saw this ask, thank you for the excellent idea.

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Are songs from live-service video games that have ended service permitted? I'm guessing that the answer is yes because I think I saw Dragalia Lost here but I just wanted to be sure before preparing songs to submit next month. Also, I noticed in your pinned post that it still says "submissions are always allowed" - since the rules are different now, you might wanna change that just in case some ppl get confused :3

Yes, songs from live service games that have ended are permitted :) (provided I can access the songs somehow of course)

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are we allowed to submit official live versions of video game songs? does its availability online matter (like how the splatoon concerts were officially uploaded, but the kirby 30th anniversary concert was only livestreamed once and has to be pirated now)?

If it's on an official album, I'm going to say yes. So no to the kirby concert -- but if the splatoon songs are on an album, they're allowed.

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i cant find if youve answered something like this already, but whats the verdict for songs thatare in video games, but werent made for them? like for example the inclusion of pre-existing low roar songs in death stranding.

As of now, I'll only accept songs that were intentionally made to be included in the OST/album/music of a video game series -- so no preexisting non-VGM songs or anything like that.

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out of interest, how far along the submission queue has been posted? when were the most recent posted songs submitted?

3.8% of the entire submissions I have received have been posted. Everything in active vote right now was submitted in July, hence the need to severely restrict submissions...

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are we allowed to ask if certain games/series are in the queue? because i cannot for the life of me remember if i submitted something a while ago and dont want to accidentally send it again when submissions reopen ^_^;

You can DM me for this as to not publicly post any spoilers :')

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@disgustedorite said: Um, when were the most recent songs submitted? I submitted a batch a while back when submissions were open and there's been no sign of any of them...I hope Tumblr didn't eat it @_@

Tumblr may have eaten it, but it's probably just as likely that I got a million gazillion submissions ahead of you :')

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genuine question did someone submit the entire destiny franchise at once or is it that popular and i just never see anything about it

Yes, in the very early days of this blog -- about the tenth submission -- someone submitted ~30 destiny songs.

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Do you accept music from mods? I mean, obviously you dont accept anything right now, but ykwim

Yes, as long as it's an original composition/remix :)

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@woolooism said: has any song won with any of the "i don't like it" results? if no, which one has the biggest relative percentage of it?

I'll have to check, but I think (off the top of my head) the song with the most "I don't like it" results is the Ao Oni chase theme

Edit: Apparently, it is actually this song from Lisa the Joyful!

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@violetsquare111 said: i'm curious, do you know when exactly the currently-running polls were submitted? curious just how far off mine are lol. (but i would guess mine are still a few months out based on the insane number of submissions you shared. 3000... oh god...)

July, so... yours are far off :')

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Do songs created for an event in a community engine driven rhythm game (i.e. original songs for custom charts in a rhythm game/community driven game engine) count for submissions? If so, how will they be counted?

I think I'm going to need an example of this scenario because this seems REALLY highly specific, haha

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A suggestion. When a song has lyrics, use a video that shows the lyrics in the reveal post. Please and thank you.

I'll do my best, but these aren't always the easiest to find, and I try to use songs from official sources as much as possible to prevent the risk of the video getting copyright stricken off the playlist.

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@only-blogging-2-save-rock-n-roll said: Would you ever consider doing joke polls for April fools day? Stuff like those MIDI remakes of song from Franchise A in the style of Franchise B

Probably not, only because it's not an official remix. I may post funny songs depending on submissions.

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would you be willing to maybe make a tag for just the polls, even if they're already over? i like going through them all without knowing what game they're from and i also dont keep super on top of checking this blog for new polls. thanks!!

There is one! It's #closed vote :)

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@sparrow-va said: Hi! I've had the hare-brained idea of possibly making some Youtube vids of listening to & reacting/trying to identify songs from this blog starting from the oldest submissions for my channel (LaserBearCat Gaming), is that something you'd be okay with? Obvs we would credit & link your blog for the source of the tracks c:

Go right ahead!

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I noticed the rules about submission has changed to one song per period per person, which I can totally understand given the amount and when trying to keep a fair chance for everyone will this rule be applied retrospectively too? just wondering because I had been submitting more than one song and just would like to know if I'd need to submit them again one per month now if I would like them to be considered as a submission eventually Also thanks for running this blog it's become one of my favourites and I check it out almost daily

No, It's not going to be applied retroactively -- I don't even know if I'd be able to enforce that because the sheet doesn't record who submitted what (right now).

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Thirteen**

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Series Master List

As The Poll clearly showed, sweet Frankie was the one most of you wanted to see return for a second part! So, here he is, continuing off pretty much straight off from where we left them two weeks ago.

I'm hoping this isn't the last time I write in this universe, if my inspiration stays with me I'll give a couple of the Pedro boys a second part to their stories. It's been a great challenge doing this and I've learnt so much writing their different voices. And as an added bonus, I've discovered a few new favourite characters and I hope you have too!

Love you all!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, this part contains smut, like, real, wrap your dick in a condom and blush, kinda smut. So, you know, NSFW...

He practically pulls you out of the car as soon as it stops, the tote bag almost forgotten on the seat behind you. You nudge him backwards, up the short garden path, towards the front door, while his hands hold tight to your waist, his lips never leaving yours. Only the familiarity of the path stops you from tripping and pulling him down with you. With a giggle you stop him just before he stumbles into the porch steps and you start digging in the bag for the keys. Frankie’s arms wrap tighter and with a few swift steps, he’s lifted you up the stairs and put you down in front of the door. 

“I’m impatient,” he chuckles as you squeal in surprise, almost dropping the keys. He crowds behind you as you struggle to get them in the lock, his nose brushing against your neck, small, wet kisses trailing up behind your ear. With a frustrated shove you push the door open and you both tumble in, Frankie keeping you from falling with his steady grip. 

Kicking off your shoes, Frankie copies you, you’re pulling him with you into the small house, leading to the bedroom. There’s no hesitation about where this is going, what you both want, you take his hand and he follows eagerly. Dropping the tote on the floor by the bed, you pull him down, or maybe he pushes you, you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s above you, sinking down on his forearms, his hands cupping the back of your head as you reach up to meet his mouth again. Your eyes slip closed as his solid body weighs you down. 

The weight of him, the heft of his hard on pressed against your thigh, his long body stretched out over yours, it makes you feel needed, as much as you need him. When you tug at his t-shirt he lifts up only briefly, sliding a hand under your top too, pulling it off as you pull off his. Then he’s back, pressed against you as he leaves your mouth to find the thin skin over your collarbone, pushing down the strap of your bra and moving further down, removing it, tossing it. You wrap your fingers around his curls as he takes your breast in his mouth, teasing with teeth and tongue. It makes you whimper, his hand cupping your other breast as he circles the nipple. When he rolls his hips into your core, you gasp and he glances up at you, his eyes almost black as he gives you a crooked grin and does it again. 

“Frankie…” you mumble, “feels so good…” a sigh rolls through you when his scruffy beard tickles your sternum, his hands busy undoing the buttons of your jeans now. 

“Can I take it all off?” he asks, his hands already slipping inside, grabbing your hips, his fingers teasing over the edge of your underwear. 

“Only if you take yours off too,” you smile, tilting your head so that you can watch his tan shoulders work as he shifts your jeans down your legs. 

“That was the plan, cariño,” he grins, his lips leaving a warm mark just below your belly button before he pulls the rest of your clothes off, leaving you bare  on the bed. He sits back on his heels, hands trailing over your skin as he follows your soft curves and the way they move under his hand. His eyes are warm, soft and tender as he looks up at you again. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he lifts your ankle to his shoulder so that he can kiss the soft inside of your calf muscle, “I want to make you feel so good.” 

“You’re still wearing too many clothes, Frankie,” you smile, poking his thigh with your other foot, letting your toes graze over the prominent bulge just under his soft little belly. The touch makes him inhale, his jaw clenching as his eyes briefly slip close. Even through the denim you can feel his cock twitch as you gently caress the area, Frankie’s grip on your ankle tightens with each pass. When you pull your foot away he looks up again and begins unbuttoning his jeans. 

“You’ve made these very uncomfortable,” he grumbles and it makes you giggle, his mock stern face as he pushes off the bed and pulls off his pants. He hisses as the elastic of the boxers scrapes over his thick length, freeing it from the cotton, and you sit up on the bed, reaching for it as Frankie watches. The head is weeping already and you swipe your thumb through the viscous liquid, smearing across the silky soft skin. The moan your action pulls from Frankie makes heat shoot through your body, pooling in your core and makes you caress the head again, gathering another fat drop from the slit. Your hand slides with ease down his shaft, aided by the slick, as you twist your wrist a little. Frankie lets out a long, strained breath through his nose and you glance up at him, his eyes are fixed on your hand around his aching, hard cock. You manage to stroke your hand up and then down a few more times before he grunts and grabs your wrist. 

“You’d better stop, or I’ll make a very bad impression,” he says, gently pulling your hand away from his hard on, and pushing you back up the bed again. He disappears beneath the edge of the bed for a moment, and comes back up with the piping bag, still filled with manjar. His smile is mischievous as he holds it up over you. 

“I’m gonna work on my piping skills,” he says and you roll your eyes as you laugh. 

“What a line, Frankie,” you snort and he chuckles. 

“I thought it was pretty good,” he grins, holding the bag over your breast and creating a small swirl around your nipple before he moves to the next one, repeating the move. 

“Very nice,” you smile, looking down at his creation and Frankie moves further down. 

“Not done yet,” he replies, carefully piping around your belly button, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out as he concentrates. 

“You’re taking this very seriously,” you giggle when he straightens up and shows off his work with a wave of his hand. A small manjar heart is circling your belly button, along with the two swirls on your nipples. 

“I’m very serious about my piping work,” he grins, “and very serious about removing it too.” He pushes himself up far enough to sink down over your breast, lapping lightly at the manjar, teasing your nipple with small kisses as he licks at the sticky golden mess he’s created. He swipes his fingers through the manjar on your other breast and holds it up to you to taste and you take your time swirling your tongue around him, sucking him clean. Frankie’s eyes darken as he watches your mouth work around his fingers, and when you let them go, he scoops up some more and offers them to you again. 

“I’d like to practice my piping skills on you too, Frankie,” you say, letting his fingers slip from your mouth again. 

“Any particular area you want to practice on,” he asks, raising an eyebrow while you smile at him, taking the piping bag from his hand. 

“I can safely say I’ve never put manjar on a dick before,” you reply, “So I think I’ll start there.” 

Frankie gives you an impish grin and rolls over on his back, his thick cock bumping back against his small belly, the happy trail of dark hair smeared with another drop of his precum. 

“I can safely say I’ve never had manjar on my dick before,” he says, leaning back on his elbows as you settle next to his hips. You can see his cock twitch as you move closer with the bag, he’s acting playful, but you can tell his excitement is growing as you move closer. Out of the corner of your eye you see his fingers gripping tight on the sheets underneath him. 

“Any special requests?” you ask, getting the bag ready, “Maybe you want some writing? I do very nice birthday messages, you know.” 

Frankie chuckles at that, “How about a helicopter, I always thought about getting a helicopter tattoo.” 

Your eyes widen as you almost drop the bag, “Not on your dick, Frankie?” 

“Fuck, no!” he laughs, “Imagine how much that would hurt!” 

“I was gonna say…” you giggle, getting ready to decorate him, “but I can promise this will be a pain free helicopter on your dick.” 

The manjar and the surface isn’t exactly the easiest to work with, but somehow you manage to pipe something resembling a helicopter on Frankie’s twitching cock while he chuckles between little hisses of pleasure. 

“Wait, don’t do the blades,” he suddenly says, stopping your movement and you look up at him, “I don’t need them….” he suddenly snorts, his eyes crinkling together as he loses control over the laughter bubbling out, “I can just do them myself by windmilling. You get it? Windmilling!” 

You groan at his joke as Frankie’s shoulders shake with laughter, but it’s too infectious, you can’t help laughing too, and you lightly slap his thigh. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking joke I’ve ever heard,” you snort and Frankie chuckles. 

“It’s genius,” he says, pulling you up towards him so that he can kiss you, “I love that you laugh at my stupid jokes.” 

“Very stupid jokes,” you reply, tasting the manjar on both your lips, “I’m not done piping yet though, still plenty of space left on that big dick of yours.” 

“I know,” Frankie grins, looking very smug as you sit back down, gently moving his dick so that you can reach the other side. 

The manjar smears on his happy trail and you dip down, dragging the tip of your tongue across his belly, tasting the sticky, sweet mess. Frankie’s breath hitches in his throat when your cheek brushes against the head of his cock, but you don’t give it any more attention. Instead you start piping a scallop pattern down the length, trailing it down to his heavy balls nestling in the short dark curls. 

“Very pretty,” he mutters, his jaw tight as you lift your hand and admire your work. 

“Thanks,” you smile sweetly back at him, “classic piping pattern, I use it on many cakes, you like it?” 

“Very much,” Frankie grits, “but probably for different reasons.” The bed sheets are creaking under his grip.

The piping bag is almost empty, so you drop it on the floor next to the bed and bend down, licking lightly over the tip of Frankie’s weeping head, the salty musk mixing with the manjar in a strange, but not wholly unpleasant flavor. 

“Fuck…” you hear Frankie groan from the head of the bed, his hand gently landing on your head, his fingers gripping softly. As you continue to lave attention on his sticky cock he pants heavily, alternating between looking down at the way your tongue circles his swollen head, to dropping back against the pillow with a low groan. When your mouth closes around his cock and you sink down, making the head bump against the back of your throat, you feel his fingers tighten their grip, his breathing is suddenly labored. Humming lightly, you hollow out your cheeks and suck slowly up his whole length, each whimper you pull from him going straight to your own core. He sounds wasted, lost to his own pleasure, as you thoroughly clean his cock from every last trace of manjar. Frankie pants, groans and moans low words in Spanish, his hips bucking underneath you when you hit an extra sensitive spot, until he can’t take it any more. With a growl he gently pushes you away. 

“Please, wait, I’m…” he pants, “I’m too close, I don’t wanna come yet.” 

You sit up, giving a final small kiss to the top of the slick head and Frankie pulls you up towards him, a hand behind your neck guiding your mouth to his. 

“My turn,” he grumbles, pushing you on to your back. You’ve still got manjar around your belly button and Frankie grabs your waist, sucking a mark into your skin as he licks it off and then moves himself over you. He holds him up over you on one arm as you pull him down, seeking out his soft lips and taking his plush bottom lip, nipping gently. Frankie groans and licks into your mouth, settling more of his weight over you and letting his free hand slide between your bodies. He nudges your legs apart, kneading the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh before he moves his hand up. It makes you shiver, a small tremble shooting through your body, when he runs his finger tips along the seam of your sex. Gently he gathers the slick already leaking out, and he can’t keep his eyes away, he stares transfixed at the way his fingers soon are coated, slipping between your folds. You part your legs, giving him more room, and he lets a finger slip in, glancing up to watch your face as you moan at the slight stretch. 

“More, Frankie, please…” you whimper, pulling him closer, claiming his lips again, and he obeys. You feel him pull out, only to push back in, adding a second finger and it makes you moan again. 

“You’re so tight, cariño,” he mumbles against your lips, slowly pumping his fingers in and out as his thumb begins to circle your clit, “So tight and so wet, you feel so good.” 

You wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, your hips bucking up against his hand, seeking more friction, and you hear him chuckle, but his own hips are pushed against your thigh, rocking back and forth, his hard cock pressed between you and you hear the strain in his voice, his heavy panting. 

His thumb is driving all thought from your brain, his fingers curling back and you feel heat building, an almost painful tightening of your muscles, your body arching up against Frankie’s heavy body. He buries his face against your neck, his teeth scraping over the thin skin. 

“C’mon, give it to me, let me feel you, cariño,” he pants and your fingers dig into his meaty shoulders as your climax hits. Air rushes out of your lungs as you moan his name, and he continues to move his fingers through the silken liquid dripping from your core, working you through it as your muscles relax. 

Your throat is raw as you turn your head to find his lips again, he licks into your mouth fervently and you pull him closer, tugging his heavy body over you. 

“Please, Frankie,” you mumble, spreading your legs so that his narrow hips slot in between your thighs, a hiss escaping him as his aching cock slides over your wet heat. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he whispers, lips still close to yours. 

“I’ve got some in the bathroom,” you say, wriggling out from underneath him, your body feeling cold without his heat, “let me get them.” 

You’re soon back with the box, handing it to Frankie and crawling back in bed. He pulls one out and hands it to you. 

“Put it on me, your hands looked so good around my cock,” he smiles and you open the packet, his words sending a fresh wave of heat to your core. 

“I hope they’re big enough,” you say, wrapping your hand around his heavy length, making it twitch as Frankie inhales, “you’re a pretty big boy.” 

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, leaning forward so that his mouth is close to your ear. He’s looking down at the way your fingers slide the condom over him, each stroke making more blood rush down to fill it. He can’t help bucking his hips as you give it a final stroke. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him down over you as you fall back down on the bed. Holding himself up on his elbow, he lines up, sliding the tip through your folds, gathering the slick liquid and coating himself. You whimper as he rubs against your sensitive clit, and again, as he slowly pushes in, a low groan from Frankie when you tighten around him. 

“So good,” he mumbles, “so, so good….” With another groan he drops down, wrapping his arm behind your shoulders, sliding in deeper, you feel the stretch of him, his hips flush against yours. As Frankie begins to move, long, slow strokes, gritting his teeth, you pull him down closer, taking that plush lower lip into your mouth, tasting him, feeling his hot breath pant over your skin. 

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you feel for where you’re joined, circling his cock with your hand and feeling it move in and out, each pass making your nerves sing. Frankie whimpers as you tighten your hand around his cock, his hips speeding up their rhythm. 

“Please, baby, touch yourself, I wanna feel you come while I’m inside,” he pants, “can you give me another?” He pushes himself up, looking down at you while he rocks his hips into you, and you nod, heat building rapidly with the way his dark eyes are locked on you, “You feel so good, so tight and wet for me, cariño, I can feel you squeeze me so nice, fuck, you feel good…” he mumbles, groaning as he drops down and kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You move your hand, fingers finding your slippery clit, Frankie’s soft belly rubbing over your hand as you start to circle the small bundle of nerves. His belly is pushing your hand down over your clit, making you gasp into his mouth and Frankie growls, picking up speed again, panting hard, his hand around your shoulders digging into your flesh. 

It hits you like a wave, every muscle in your body locking, clamping down around him as you cry out. Frankie stutters, loses his rhythm, and groans, trying to move his aching cock through the hot vice you’ve created for him, he tries to make it last, tries to work through it, but with a shout he comes, grinding into your hips. 

He tries to hold himself up, to not crush you, but your arms pull him down, burying your face against his neck. You can feel his pulse thrumming under the heated skin, his heart beating hard as he pants into your hair. It takes you both a while to find your way back, Frankie moves first, gripping the condom and pulling out, discarding it. He rolls over on his back and pulls you with him, sweat and manjar sliding over your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your mouth, smiling into you as you wrap your arm around his waist and close your eyes. 

You didn’t really mean for him to spend the night, but then you ordered pizza instead of the dinner you were meant to have together. And it was so easy for him to just pull on his jeans and go to your front door and pay the delivery guy and then bring the pizza back to bed. Once the pizza was gone you were both sleepy, and you’d leaned your head on his chest while he caressed your arm. At some point during the night he’d leaned over and whispered that he was going to leave, but you’d grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, muttering that it was too late. And he wasn’t hard to convince, he’d pulled his jeans back off and wrapped his arms around your waist as he pulled you closer. Frankie felt like a warm blanket around you all night, only your bladder forcing you away from him as the birds outside started to sing. 

You crawl back in bed as Frankie stirs, his long arms coming out to find you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stay,” he mumbles and buries his face in the crook of your neck, “I didn’t wanna assume I could.” 

“I wanted you to stay, Frankie”, you mumble back, wrapping your fingers around the curls at the nape of his neck, unruly and wild after last night's activities. 

“I wanted to stay too,” he replies, and you feel his tongue slip out to taste the skin over your collarbone, “You still taste of manjar,” he chuckles, “and I’m all sticky.” 

“I have a really nice shower,” you stretch your arms above your head and yawn, you can feel your own sticky skin on several parts of your body, and you know it’s not all manjar, “Wanna join me?” 

Frankie pushes himself up so that he’s above you, sleepy dark eyes smiling down at you. 

“I would love to join you,” he grins, “but I can’t guarantee that’ll be a short shower.” His suggestion makes a little shiver run down your spine at the memory of what his talented fingers had done last night.  

“Good,” you say, matching his grin and pushing him back with your hands on his wide shoulders, suddenly very eager to get him into the shower with you, “I’m counting on it. I’ll get you a clean towel.” 

“And maybe a toothbrush if you have a spare one?” he asks, shrugging apologetically, “morning breath.”

You lead him to the bathroom and dig out a towel while he runs the shower, making the water run nice and hot before he pulls you in with you. The room fills with steam and the scent of grapefruit while he runs his hands over your soapy skin. His wet curls fall into his eyes and you push them back, creating waves in his hair as he closes his eyes and hums as your nails scratch his scalp. 

In the end he has you pressed up against the cool tiles, your hot skin burning under his fingertips and lips. Small whimpers echoing through the space while his tongue laps at your sensitive folds. As he stands up and slides in, your leg hooked around his hip, his groans drown out your moans under the sound of the rushing water. 

You wrap him in the towel when the water starts to run cool and he lets you tuck him in like a burrito while he smiles at the way your fingers tickle at his waist. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask, pushing your fingers through his wild curls again. 

“Starving,” he replies, “I think we used up a lot of energy last night.” 

“I thought you replaced it with all that manjar,” you laugh, drying yourself off as Frankie sinks down on the seat of the toilet. 

“Sugar high, that rush is gone now,” he chuckles, “next time maybe we use some whipped cream instead.” 

“Next time?” you ask, with raised eyebrows, and he could pretend to be awkward and embarrassed about assuming that there’d be a next time. But he just reaches out and takes hold of your hand with a smile, pulling you close so that he can wrap his arms around your waist and lean his chin on your torso as he looks up at you. 

“Call me crazy,” he smiles, “But I think we definitely have a next time coming up.”  

You can’t help but think how good he looks with that confident smile on his face as you bend down and kiss him. 

“We might both be crazy, but I think you’re right.” 

Frankie gives his discarded t-shirt a sniff before he opts to wear only his jeans as he follows you into the kitchen of the house in search of breakfast. 

“What do bakers eat for breakfast?” he asks as you pull out two mugs and the coffee. 

“Whatever is leftover from the bakery,” you say, pointing to a couple of stale croissants on the counter, “if we want anything fresh, we need to go to the bakery.”

Frankie scrunches up his eyebrows for a minute before he walks across the kitchen, “Can I raid your fridge?” he asks, stopping with his hand on the door handle. 

“Sure, you’re welcome to whatever, I think I’ve got jam and we can toast the croissants. Should be some eggs in there too.” 

Frankie bends his tall frame in half and peers into the fridge, “I’m assuming you’ve got stuff like flour, baking powder, sugar and stuff at home?” he asks, glancing over at you. 

“Yeah, sure, but you don’t have to make something, Frankie,” you protest, hitting the on button on the coffee machine. 

“I know, but you make things all day, let me make you something proper for breakfast,” he’s smiling as he stands up straight again with milk, butter and the eggs in his hands. He puts it down on the counter and wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, before he smiles down at you, “Go sit down, cariño, let me feed you for a change.” 

You gladly obey, settling on one of the stools as Frankie rummages in your kitchen. Pretty soon he’s got a mug of coffee in front of you and pancake batter on the go. The smell of frying butter fills the kitchen as Frankie hums to the radio that you’ve switched. It’s homey and cozy and you sip your coffee, watching Frankie’s broad back from behind as he begins to fry the pancakes. 

He even sets the table, shooing you away as you try to help, and you have to laugh at the way he’s taken over your kitchen, flipping each pancake before he slides onto the plates. He grabs the jam and somehow finds some chopped hazelnuts in a cupboard, sprinkling them over the stacks with a flourish before he drizzles the whole thing with maple syrup from a bottle you’d even forgotten you had. 

“Breakfast is served, mi hermosa,” he says, spinning the plate three quarter way as he sets it down on the counter in front of you. 

“I’m so impressed, Frankie,” you say as he sits down on the stool next to you with his own plate. 

“Taste them before you say anything,” he replies with a chuckle, “I’m nervous about a pro tasting my pancake.” 

“Hardly a pancake pro,” you smile, cutting into your stack and taking a bite. And of course it’s delicious, you didn’t expect anything else from Frankie. He’s proven how dedicated he is to getting things just right, if nothing else, last night had certainly shown you how much attention he pays to details. 

“They’re amazing, Frankie, and you know it,” you giggle, his expression is gleeful as he sees your smile. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he fakes a look of modesty, “These things I just whipped up, how could they possibly match anything you make?” 

“Is this your grandma’s influence again?” you ask, giving him a light shove as Frankie looks very pleased with himself. 

“Yeah, I always bugged her for pancakes when I was staying with her but American style pancakes wasn’t something she usually made. So she watched Martha Stewart and got a recipe and made them for my birthday,” Frankie cuts a piece for himself, nodding to himself as he chews and swallows, “Yeah, I’m happy with those.” 

“She sounds like a great grandma, and a great baker,” you say and Frankie nods. 

“Yeah, she was great, and she would’ve loved you. And be so impressed by your bakery,” he smiles over at you, “You’d have to tell her, in detail, about everything you bake.” 

Frankie looks down at his pancakes again and frowns, a small sigh escaping him. 

“She passed while I was still in the army, I was away on a mission with total radio silence. By the time I was stateside again, she’d already been buried.” 

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” you say, giving his arm a small squeeze, “that must’ve been difficult.” 

“Yeah, it was hard,” he nods, cutting another bite of the pancakes, “but if you don’t mind, can we change the subject? I want to tell you more some other day, but I don’t want to spoil the mood now.” 

“Sure, of course, Frankie, whenever you're ready,” you say, picking up your coffee mug and giving him a small kiss on his scruffy cheek, “More coffee?” 

“Yeah, please.” 

The morning slips away from you in the easy company of Frankie. He insists on cleaning up after breakfast but you don’t let him. Instead you pull him with you to the couch in the living room, the morning sunshine warming the space, making you both lazy and sleepy as you stretch out. Frankie lets his fingertips trace up and down your thigh, drawing small patterns that reach higher and higher under your t-shirt, while you cup his cheek and pull him down to your lips. His large warm palm fits itself around your waist, and then your breast, a leg hooked over your hip as if to anchor you to him. As he buries his head in the crook of your neck, you hum with pleasure, you feel his warm breath slow down as his hands still their movements. You run your fingers through his soft curls until your eyes drift close and you fall asleep too. 

It’s the insistent vibrations from your phone on the kitchen counter that pull you out of your slumber. Frankie yawns and stirs next to you, his face still pressed to your neck. 

“Fuck, what time is it?” you mutter, rubbing your hand over your face to chase away the tendrils of heavy sleep that hangs to your mind. 

“Dunno…” Frankie mumbles, pushing off you a little so that you can stand up and stagger to the kitchen, you feel his hand trying to hold on to you as you leave. 

“Oh fuck, no, I overslept,” you groan, it’s past ten, the bakery should already be open and you should’ve been there an hour ago. There’s four missed calls on your phone from your weekend shop assistant. While you return the call Frankie comes over, yawning wide again. 

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep, I forgot you work on weekends too,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your high schooler picks up. 

“Hey, it’s me, I’m sorry, I overslept! I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“No problem, I’ve got it, shop’s open, I’ve stocked the display and the coffee machine is on,” they reply as you hear the familiar jingle of the front door bell. 

“You’re an angel, thank you so much!” you say, “I know you’ve got it under control.” 

“No stress, don’t crash on the way here, see you soon.” 

They hang up and you follow Frankie back to the bedroom where he’s pulled on his t-shirt. 

“Sorry, I’ve got to run,” you say and he smiles down at you. 

“Don’t worry about it, just give me a lift to the bakery, my truck’s there.” 

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, quickly pulling out jeans and a clean t-shirt. Frankie sinks down on the bed and pulls on his socks as he watches you. 

“I know we didn’t exactly get that dinner I promised, but maybe we can try again?” he asks as you rush around collecting what you need. He reaches out and grabs your hand as you hurry past, making you stop as he pulls you into his arms when he stands up, “Rain check for me?” 

“Any day, Frankie,” you smile and he gives you a quick kiss in return, “Let’s get going before the shop gets really swamped.” 

You throw a critical eye over the kitchen, it’s not your own, and you can’t get the temperature just right. The oven is just too close to the work bench. Bending down with the small tool in your hand you gently move the delicate flower ever so slightly to the right, frowning as you squint at the surface of the decoration. 

“Excuse me, could we maybe move the cake to that bench instead? The heat from the oven is going to make the sugar crystals melt.” You point to an empty counter next to the door and the man nods, grabbing one of the other assistant bakers and carefully, under your watchful supervision, moves the cake. 

“Thank you, that’s much better,” you say, picking up one of the small paint brushes, you just need to go over the anchor points one more time and make sure that the cake layers still are lined up and straight, maybe just check the fresh flowers at the top one more time in case any of them has started to wilt and then- 

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here,” Frankie’s familiar voice says behind you, a note of exasperation to his tone as he wraps his arm around your waist, “Put down that paint brush immediately.” 

“I just needed to check that it arrived in one piece,” you protest, as Frankie takes the brush from your hand and pulls you back from the cake. 

“You already did that, an hour ago,” he says, making you turn towards him, “And it is still all in one piece, cariño. Now, you need to get back to the party and dance with your husband.” 

He takes your right hand in his, his other arm still around your waist, and spins you around the center of the kitchen, guiding you towards the door with a few smooth dance steps that make you laugh. 

“If she comes back in here tonight, throw her out please, she’s not allowed,” Frankie calls to the caterers who grin and give him a thumbs up. Before you can protest, he’s got you out through the kitchen double doors and into the corridor that leads back outside. 

“Sneaking away like that, such a bad wife,” he says with a small grin, “What am I going to do with you?” 

You tuck your arm around his waist, his back warm from the sunshine outside and you can feel his body heat radiate through the nice dress shirt he’s wearing, suit jacket discarded somewhere along with his tie. 

“Lock me in the kitchen?” you suggest as you walk back out into the garden of the house that has been rented for the occasion. There’s music playing through the trees and you can see people dancing under the shade of the boughs. 

“I know that’s not a punishment for you, nice try,” Frankie smiles as he leads you to the dance floor and takes you in his arms again. 

The people around you make space for you as he moves you around in a gentle dance under the slowly darkening sky, fairy lights twinkling between the branches. You let go of his hand and wrap your arms around his neck instead, your hands finding the soft curls at the back of his head, so much longer now than when you first met. He hums a little when you twine them around your fingers and find his lips with your own, pressing a warm kiss to his smiling mouth. 

“I have to put it in a ponytail soon, if you won’t let me cut it,” he chuckles, the cool tip of his nose bumping against your cheek. 

“Let it get a little bit longer and I can give you a nice French braid,” you smile back at him, “You can borrow one of my hair clips.��� 

Frankie snorts into your neck as you giggle, spinning you around again. 

“Get me one of those hot pink ones with sparkles,” he says, finding your lips again, muffling the laughter that bubbles from you at the thought. 

“So when do we get to eat this cake you’ve worked so hard on?” Frankie asks after a few minutes, the sounds of the music and the chatter slowly coming back to you, “I know you’ve been planning it for two years.” 

“Maybe now? I think we’ve let everyone dance long enough,” you say, “Let me just go and check on it first and-” you start to move away but Frankie quickly tightens his arms around your waist. 

“Oh no, no, Mrs Morales, you’re staying right here,” he laughs, looking over your shoulder for the gray head of Mrs Levinson, easy to spot in her shimmering gold dress and bright red lipstick. Catching her eye he nods towards the kitchen and she gives him a quick thumbs up and turns to the nearest waiter. 

“She’s on it,” Frankie says to you, taking your hand and leading you towards the self service bar by the edge of the dance floor, picking up two flutes of champagne and giving you one, “And the cake will be delicious, and look perfect, stop worrying about it.” 

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” you say, shaking your head as you accept the glass, “I’ve made over a hundred wedding cakes, this one shouldn’t be any different.” 

“But it is, cariño,” Frankie says, taking your hand and leading you towards the cake that’s being rolled into the center of the dance floor, “because this is our wedding cake.” 

Part Fourteen

[seventeenlovesthree]

Madoka Magica Ship Analysis - HomuSaya

Based on these two polls [X] [X], I will write an analysis that'll also include how I feel about the ship (similarly to my Digimon shipping game analysis posts).

Disclaimer: I won't claim this to be a conclusive/definitive analysis of all of the ship's aspects. I have watched the original 12-episode-series and movies (including Rebellion), the Magia Record anime and I've read several manga series (the Original, The Different Story, Wraith Arc, Rebellion Story, Oriko Magica, Another Story, Mitakihara Anti-Materials). But I'm aware that I haven't seen/read all of what's out there and am also not thoroughly familiar with the games. Plus, oftentimes, ship dynamics vary depending on which series/timeline you are looking at. So this is going to be my personal take on it.

Whether canon provides input on them or not.

Most depictions of HomuSaya's relationship paint them in a downright antagonistic light - and this applies to the majority of their versions in most timelines, from the beginning to the (current) end. Just as it's impossible to describe KyouSaya's dynamic without considering Mami's impact on them respectively, we do need to factor in Sayaka's and Homura's respective bond with Madoka as well to get a grasp on their relationship. But first things first, let's start with Homura's general view on Sayaka:

Her first impression in the early timelines already isn't the best - as Sayaka is quite vocal about how she considers Moemura a liability she is very wary about. Being as ridden by insecurities as she is, it's no surprise that Homura may be just as wary of Sayaka in return as well: Because Sayaka's stance toward Homura is the polar opposite of how Madoka behaves around her, which is already a huge factor, considering how much Homura hyperfocuses on Madoka for treating her nicely. Thus, Homura - the "nerd" in this stereotypical scenario - must have felt bullied by Sayaka, the "jock". It's also important to take Sayaka's fall into despair into account - because, just like it's the case with Mami, with every passing timeline, Homura becomes more and more aware of Sayaka being a huge liability to HER objective. In later timelines after Homura already became a Magical Girl, Sayaka being Madoka's best friend plays a big role in Madoka's willingness to become a Magical Girl herself. Thus, keeping Sayaka sane - or at least preventing her from hurting Madoka - is one of Homura's biggest challenges.

This isn't made easier by Sayaka viewing Homura as just much of a "selfish kind of Magical Girl" as she perceives Kyouko for most of the main story, which goes against her own values 100%. It's not until Sayaka gets saved and "enlightened" by Madokami, thus gaining awareness of everything Homura went through, that she may begin to see her actions in a slightly different light. In Rebellion, LawOfCycles!Sayaka's task given by Madokami is to rescue Homura from despairing completely, helping her to find her way to be reunited with Madoka herself as they're all trapped within Homura's ideal world inside of her Soul Gem. Although it's not entirely clear whether Sayaka is aware of her task the entire time, she's at least on neutral if not on good terms with Homura for most of their time together there. Once Homura begins to gain awareness herself, it's LawOfCycles!Sayaka who tries to reason with her - tries to help her realize what is going on, that she should neither blame herself for wanting a peaceful world nor condemn herself for becoming a Witch after all. Because, since Sayaka knows what it feels like to turn into a Witch, as she puts it herself, she cannot help but gain "compassion" - not only for Witches, but for Homura specifically, her sacrifice and determination as well as her fate.

However, even though she is committed to saving Homura, there is still a sense of wariness, of caution in Sayaka whenever she interacts with her - which makes sense, since their positions are now switched: While it was Homura's self-given task to save Sayaka (for Madoka's sake) in the main timeline, it's now Sayaka's job (also for Madoka's sake) to do the same in return. In the end, Sayaka's caution persisted for good reason, as Homura succumbing to madness and, eventually, turning into Homucifer puts them on opposing ends once again.

Homucifer's intentions in creating a new, fake-happy universe can be interpreted in several directions here: While she does declare Sayaka as her "enemy" who threatens her new world order, she also grants her the possibility to live a "normal life" without the memory of former grief once more... Which was exactly what LawOfCycles!Sayaka had told Homura not to feel guilty about wanting herself previously. So while Homura's actions can be seen as her just trying to prevent Sayaka from acting, keeping her out of her way - they can also be interpreted as her granting her happiness in the form she thought she desired. In a very twisted way at least.

To sum it all up shortly: On one hand, there undeniably IS a very antagonistic vibe going on between these two, as they're both not only very wary of each other, but also see the other as a chore, a job to "be taken care of" - even to the point of having to "kill" the other if there's no other way. They both have their biases based on rather negative past experiences. Additionally, they're also both extremely set on how things have to be done "their way" - and as their objectives tend to clash, it's plausible that they'd harbour feelings of aversion and hostility towards each other's guts... But with Homura having seen all different Sayakas in all timelines and Sayaka gaining awareness of Homura's actions, it's also possible that they seem to develop a small glimpse of sympathy for one another. LawOfCycles!Sayaka definitely feels that way towards Homura, wanting her to let go and live a little for a while - which Homucifer seems to take very literally by giving Sayaka the chance to "live a little" in her ideal world...

Whether I think why and how they’d work.

HomuSaya is a ship that is often referred to as a "hate ship" - with all consequences, including the (adult!) "blowing-off-steam-hate-sex" and the kinkiness that usually comes with BDSM-esque shenanigans. With everything lined out above, them dealing with their pent-up frustrations towards each other seems to be the main approach to how a (still somewhat consensual!) relationship between these two may come to life - and that would either entail most of the others not being available or, specifically in Homucifer!verse, them having some kind of "secret power play business" going on in the back, unnoticed by everyone else...

However, a relationship like that may actually help them to come to terms with who they actually are long-term. As outlined in both the HomuMado and KyouSaya analysis, all these girls need therapy to form somewhat healthy relationships - and with Homura and Sayaka, there would have to be very specific circumstances for them to end up together, having to deal with all their trauma as adults and processing it properly. Them starting off in some kind of competitively stubborn power play relationship obviously doesn't sound very healthy in the slightest - but playing into the idea that there actually IS a seed of sympathy, of understanding for each other within both of them, it MAY BE possible for that to grow; for Homura to not just view Sayaka as a self-righteous yet fragile bully, but as someone who is incredibly protective and loving towards those she cares about; and for Sayaka to not just view Homura as someone whose insecurities and disapppointments turned HER into a selfish yet fragile bully, but as someone who yearns for affection and care, wanting to be strong for and protective of those dear to her as well.

Again, they may not be the most likely to find each other if all the others are also around (both HomuMado and KyouSaya would be more plausible to gravitate towards one another, just for example). Plus there'd be at least five layers of unresolved tension and biased antipathy they'd have to work through, which would take a long time, because they would be scared to appear weak and thus wouldn't let down their guard easily... But I'd say it's not entirely impossible for them to get there. However, looking at how things are right now, their mutual view may be too damaged to work out as a relationship.

Whether I’d prefer them as platonic or romantic ship.

With Mitakihara Anti-Materials being the only instance I'm familiar with that allows Sayaka to be somewhat "flirty with/playfully possessive of" Homura (aside from LawOfCycles!Sayaka feeling sympathetic towards her), I'd say that I'm not exactly the biggest fan of their romantic appeal. I am aware that the PSP game basically allows all ships between the Holy Quintet to have a somewhat plausible route - and their Magia Record anime portrayal also gave them a rather hopeful note, as they finally managed to reconcile after being wary of each other at first! Because there clearly IS room for them to start off peacefully if they weren't both so prone to getting tunnel vision.

In general, as I am not really into "enemies to lovers" if there is no clear path that leads towards a potentially romantic development, this one is not exactly for me. For both Homura and Sayaka, there are more viable choices in my book. I highly enjoy them as antagonistic yet sympathetic forces in Rebellion, Angelic-Witch!Sayaka vs. Devlish!Homura! They also simply make more sense to me as friends who don't admit that they are friends keep throwing shade at one another and constantly fight over who's more possessive protective of Madoka (and Kyouko and Mami).

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Lack of Engagement Pt. 1: Ancient Rite

[Rain learns his actions (rubbing a giant metal dick) have consequences (marriage). The RainDrop series y'all doomed yourselves to in the poll... with some mild tweaking.] Below the cut.

It starts with a rumor among the siblings.

Something Rain isn't ordinarily interested in -rumors, or the siblings to be honest- but with a heatwave keeping them all locked down inside the abbey, and a desire to avoid doomscrolling on his phone, again, for the third day in a row... he'd indulged in a healthy bit of eavesdropping, hoping to hear something juicy, and instead learned of a curious addition to the abbey's art collection.

A giant statue of a penis.

Not the first one in the church's possession, but, according to the siblings -and this is the part that amused Rain the most and nearly drove the ghoul to tears- if you rubbed the head while linking hands with your lover, the devil himself would appear and give his blessing for you to be wed.

Rain thinks it's the funniest shit he's ever heard, or maybe it's just the heat fucking with his better sense of judgement, but it's either grab a friend and give a handjob to a statue or go back to lurking in Swiss' likes on his social media pages playing, "When will I find softcore porn?" and honestly, as much as he likes seeing the multi-ghoul be horny on main, he knows a fiery little demon who would get a kick out of something like this.

He considers texting Dew about the statue, but the idea of missing the look on the hybrid's face when he hears the words, "Giant Dick" is not something he can readily pass up.

Ultimately, it isn't that hard to find him either, Dew stays in one of two places when it's hot as balls outside; The abbey's indoor pool -which Rain knows he can't be in, because EVERYONE is in there right now, and Dew likes it all to himself- or the library.

It's surprising to hear, unless you've met the man himself, but Dew is an avid reader in his downtime.

In fact, in the time that he's resided in the abbey, he's read about a solid third of the books in the library, and has donated quite a few from his own collection over the years.

His room would be overflowing with them if he hadn't purged so many in the last year or so... to make more room for new ones.

Rain is sure it's partly to spite Mountain for having so many plants in their dorm, taking up every available surface that Dew hasn't claimed outright, but neither of them complains when a new fern or book on said fern appears in their room.

They work oddly well together as roommates in that sense.

Their space feels like an even mixture of the both of them, not like when Rain had been stuck rooming with Aether for a year and a half...

If you want to test the strength and boundaries of a friendship, listen to your best friend destroy your shared bathroom after eating two week old meatloaf from the back of the fridge and see how you feel.

Bless him, Aeth's a great guy, Rain loves him like a brother, but goddamn there were times where Rain wanted to throttle him.

You live and you learn.

Stepping through the heavy wooden doors leading into the library -locked in place to avoid another... unfortunate squishing incident- Rain scans the nearly empty room for signs of life, but a cursory perusal of the patrons has him coming up short one white haired, pointed eared devil... which can only mean one thing.

"He's up in the loft." a helpful voice informs him, and when Rain glances over, he sees the librarian sat back in his chair at the front desk, gesturing upwards with his chin for emphasis before returning to his crossword puzzle.

Rain isn't sure whether the man knew he was looking for Dew because of his appearance -having forgone his glamour- or if he simply looked like he wasn't there to study, like the siblings he sees sequestered in a far corner, pouring over a large tome and muttering in tones just above a whisper, but he thanks him anyway and heads for the first set of stairs up to the library's second floor.

There are three tiers to the abbey's library; The first floor, where the siblings of sin attend lectures and study various texts to learn their secrets -or, as he has seen quite a few doing, taking online classes to learn skills that will take them to careers beyond the church-, the second floor where all of the more adult books are kept to avoid any of the young wards of the abbey getting their hands on them, and the third floor, which is barely bigger than your standard storage closet, the loft.

The loft was built well before Rain's time on the surface, and had been meant to be a private office for Sister Imperator, but age and a desire to remain close to the papas had resulted in her room being moved to the first floor instead, and the room itself had fallen into disuse, and thus, when the library underwent a much needed renovation, so, too, did the room upstairs.

That being said, very few of the siblings bother trekking up that far in the library to read, and the narrow, ladder like steps leading up to it are a turn off for most wanting to ascend with an armload of books, but Dew manages it just fine somehow.

Walking with purpose, Rain debates calling up to the ghoul, but remembers that shouting in a library isn't exactly smiled upon, and he can feel the librarian's gaze upon him the moment his mouth opens a bit too quickly.

Thinking better of his initial impulse, Rain instead ascends the ladder and pokes his head up out of the hole in the floor, half expecting to see Dew surrounded by a mountain of books, but what meets his eyes first is, well, Dew's eyes.

He barely contains a yelp as he comes nose to nose with the other ghoul, who's crouched on at the top of the ladder, arms crossed.

"...Hello." he greets, watching Rain compose himself.

"Hi-" Rain starts, "-do you wanna go touch a dick with me?"

"What-"

.

.

.

"-in the merciful fuck is this gorgeous thing doing in a place like this??" Dew cackles, rounding the giant bronze dong, "They sculpted veins and everything! How'd you even find out about this being here, Rainy??"

"The siblings were blabbing about it earlier, and I needed to see it for myself. Had to bring a friend, of course, because apparently it's not just a giant dick-" Rain says, wiggling his fingers, "-it's a magical giant dick, ooo~"

Dew snorts and steps back from the dick, which is, hilariously, just a bit taller than him.

"So what's it do?" he asks, casually leaning on the statue, which stays rooted in place thanks to the flared out base at the bottom, "Aside from looking like some kind of absurdly sized dildo?"

"According to the siblings, if you rub it-" Rain and Dew share a giggle at that, "-if you rub it while holding hands with your lover, Satan himself shows up and, boom, you're married."

"To Satan? Or each other?" Dew questions, seeking clarification, "Also why would the lord of Hell deign to marry two mortals together? It's such a weird concept to begin with, like one of the romance novels I read with the sisters in our book club last year..."

"You're in a book club?" Rain raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head, "Anyway, I just wanted to see if there's any credence to what the siblings were yapping about, and so far it checks out; I mean, I'm standing in front of a giant dick... and a bronze statue of a penis."

"Oi." Dew swats at him halfheartedly, "Jerk."

Rain stretches his arms and cracks his fists dramatically, "I intend to."

"You're an idiot..." the other huffs, sounding almost fond, "So why'd you bring me along?"

"Well, you know it takes two..." Rain smirks, "...and plus, we can find out if it's actually magic or not. You and I aren't a couple though, so it would probably be a net zero in terms of results, but it'd still make for a funny story though, and I know the others would be jealous that we got to the giant dick first..."

"Swiss is gonna be so mad when he finds out we found it before him." Dew agrees, nodding, "Okay, I'll bite."

"You really shouldn't use your teeth for something like this, it's a sensitive area." Rain teases, then extends his hand to Dew, "Wanna rub one out with me?"

Dew scoffs and links his hand with Rain's.

"Sure, why not? Worst case scenario, someone's gonna jump out with a camera and go, 'HA!' so might as well get the show on the road."

Approaching the statue together this time, the pair slaps their free hands down on the head and, with another fit on laughter successfully held in by the virtue of NOT making eye contact with each other -"Don't look at me during." Dew whispers, almost breaking Rain's concentration- ...nothing happens.

"Well, that was kind of lackluster." Rain comments, letting his hand drop down at his side, "I was hoping it would at least, like, glow or something, but-"

"Hear me out." Dew says suddenly, turning to Rain, "What if we... told the dick we're a couple?"

"Huh?"

"Magic and shit is all about intent, yeah? But it's also about respect, sort of." Dew explains, "We're not being serious enough about all of this, so the dick is... being a dick."

"Okay..." Rain draws his mouth into a line and gives the statue a thoughtful look before turning back to Dew, "You wanna try tricking the dick?"

"I want to trick the dick... for science." he says, holding his index finger up like a nerd emphasize his point, "Just to see if it actually works."

Rain sets his hand back on the dick, his other hand still holding onto Dew's, "And if it does work? What then? What do you think magical penis marriage entails?"

"You're the one who asked me to come." Dew points out, placing his hand back on the statue, "You tell me, shark nuts."

A pause.

"Do sharks even have nuts?" he wonders aloud, and Rain smirks, "What?"

"I mean, I do." he says and Dew rolls his eyes, "I thought you would know a lot about sharks seeing as you have that big ass marine biology textbook I gave you for your birthday last year."

"Hey, I do, I-"

Before Dew can finish, the ground begins to shake beneath their feet and the two find themselves clinging to one another to stay upright.

"What the fuck?!" Dew shouts, holding onto Rain for dear life, "Earthquake?!"

Rain stumbles forward, taking Dew with him a few steps before regaining his footing, "It's been a bit since we've had one this intense... We should get under cover before shit starts falling down!"

However, just as the duo is about the slide under a nearby table, the shaking stops and-

"...Uh, Rain, does the dick look... bigger to you?"

Rain makes a face.

"This isn't the time to-Oh my fucking god it is."

Standing nearly twice as tall as it was before, the bronze statue now looks over the both of them, its mighty girth casting a shadow from where it now blocks the light coming in from the windows.

An eerie glow emanates from the tip, which is now leaking... something.

Rain hopes it's just water.

"I think-" Dew starts, than yelps, "Ow!"

"What's wr-Ouch!" Rain winces as the skin around his ring finger begins to burn, strange runes scratching into his flesh, "What the fuck..."

"Thou hast attempted to invoke the ancient rites dishonestly, and are justly punished." a voice as loud as thunder booms, "May these binds remind you daily of your new found commitment... to each other."

And then, before either of them have the time to process what has happened, the ground shakes once more, and the statue... recedes.

Rain stares at the now flaccid statue, at the puddle of mystery liquid on the floor, and the markings on his ring finger.

"...Rain."

"...Yes, Dew?"

"...What the fuck."

.

.

.

In spite of the odd, borderline drug trippy experience with the dick, somehow, some way, the pair manages to put it from their minds by the evening.

The more they try to dwell on it, the hazier and more dreamlike the situation becomes, until it becomes just another nagging feeling that they forgot something important... and then, by midnight, it's as if nothing happened at all.

Rain's memory of overhearing the rumor is replaced with him scrolling on his phone in bed, and Dew's brings him back to the library, to the book he'd left sitting on the beanbag chair he finds himself slouching into now.

Absentmindedly, Rain fidgets with the silver band on his ring finger, plainer than anything he'd buy for himself, but, for some reason, it feels too... special... to want to take it off.

Dew does similarly with the gold band on his own hand, never one to wear jewelry like this, he slides it down his finger and feels a pang of... something... in his chest that makes him slot it back into place, feeling almost guilty for trying to remove it in the first place.

Overall, nothing feels different to either of them, but when Dew goes to his room and is met with a confused, half awake Mountain mumbling something along the lines of, "Did you leave something behind?" he can't help but ask what the tall man means.

"You must really be tired..." Mountain yawns, "You and Rain are in the room across the hall, remember? C'mon, let's get you back to your husband."

"My what now-"

At the same time, Rain finds himself staring at his phone screen, having remembered taking a picture of an interesting bird the day before, he'd wanted to find and edit the photo before posting it online, but now he's...

"Rain!" Dew calls to him in a panic, entering the room and all but slamming the door shut, "Mountain said-"

"-you may now kiss the groom."

Rain's eye twitches as he looks up from the video he'd found, "...Dew?"

"...Yeah, Rain?"

"...What the fuck."

What the fuck indeed.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Semifinals Poll 2

Please be civil in the notes. We will block people if we feel it is necessary. A character being canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. This is not a competition of who is better representation.

Check out the other poll in the semifinals here.

This is a two vs. one poll because Neil Josten and Andrew tied (by our standards) back in round 4 and moved on together.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus-The Locked Tomb

Qualifications:

She's a lesbian and the author Tamsyn Muir has confirmed she's written as schizophrenic, based on her own experience.

Okay SO Harrow is a necromancer nun who is also a huge lesbian. She spends the books of TLT series being super gay and repressed about her emotions for 1. Butch lesbian Jesus and 2. Human Barbie the death of God. She narrates the second book (Harrow the Ninth) and is author-confirmed schizophrenic. She experiences hallucinations thru the whole book and has since childhood. She’s also WIDELY headcannoned as autistic by the fandom (me too) because. Because she IS SO FUCKING AUTISTIC (source: I am autistic too)

Schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Schizophrenic and sapphic

canonically a schizophrenic lesbian. neither word is used in series, she isn't in a position to get a diagnosis and queer identities are so normalised in the universe that labels just don't get mentioned, but she is written as both by an author who is also both.

Canon schizophrenia

Canon lesbian with canon schizophrenia

She's a schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Propaganda:

The Locked Tomb is pretty popular on tumblr but I might as well submit her anyway

She’s a lesbian necromancer nun. She’s a saint and also woke up the death of God, who is a human Barbie, who she is in love with, tho she’s also kind of married to lesbian Jesus. She’s schizophrenic. She’s scrungly. She puts bread in a drawer. She’s even autistic

Harrow first started hallucinating (visual and auditory) when she was ten years old! The traumatic brain injury and seizures are much more recent. Unironically gotta love a pov protagonist who makes you struggle along with her in sorting out hallucination and false memory to figure out what's going on. Also while Harrow's disability shapes the narrative, the book isn't at all about her being disabled. It's a fantasy/scifi gothic horror novel about being trapped at a work retreat with God.

so many women want her but she’s determined to be in love with the soul of the dead earth trapped in a 10ft barbie doll instead. she’s a lesbian disaster and is trying to deal with both schizophrenia and over 200 actual ghosts haunting her.

a schizophrenic lesbian, written by a schizophrenic lesbian! she's in love with multiple dead women, but she's also a necromancer so that's not as big of an obstacle as it sounds. weird little bone-obsessed necromancer lesbian. I care about her deeply Author Tamsyn Muir has discussed how Harrow's schizophrenia is modeled after her own experiences. It matters a lot in her eponymous novel, where her inability to trust what she sees and hears is compounded by her self-inflicted lobotomy to save her girlfriend's soul from getting absorbed into her own.

Harrow is one of the protagonists of her series & both her lesbianism & her schizophrenia play major parts in the story. The author has spoken about how she wrote Harrow based on her own experiences, and the authenticity comes through strongly. Beyond that, she's a teenage gothic nun in love with a holy corpse & she's the greatest bone magician ever born. What more needs be said.

She's a lesbian, she's psychotic, she has seizures, she faints regularly and can't rely on her own memory worth shit. And the only reason she's not going to kill god is so she and her girl can escape the cycle of violence. Basically, Harrowhark Nonagesimus is the entire package.

Anything Else?:

Listen. Listen. I’m not doing Harrow justice here. I LOVE her (Submitter 2)

The author is also schizophrenic! Which is pretty cool. (Submitter 3)

The author of the series is openly schizophrenic, and has mentioned in interviews that she's drawing on that experience when writing Harrow :) (Submitter 8)

Neil Josten-All For The Game

Qualifications:

I mean he def has PTSD even though it's never like fully fleshed out in the series and also he is demisexual

Propaganda:

Neil goes through so much it's amazing he is still functioning as a person. He bottles up all of his trauma but he still has nightmares and triggers that bring back the trauma he felt from his abusive mafia father and his abusive mother. However, once he lands at PSU to play D1 Exy, he finds a home with all of his other broken teammates and coach. This includes Andrew Minyard, another possible contender for this bracket. While he still has trauma to deal with, he becomes a much more well adjusted and happy person with his teammates. :)

Andrew Minyard-All For The Game

Qualifications:

He’s gay and has some sort of trauma disorder probably.

More about that here.

Propaganda:

Very gay, pretty commonly thought of to have some sort of trauma disorder, he’s neat. I have many thoughts about him as a character but I don’t really feel like writing them.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both worlds (part 7)

Tw: vomiting, sick reader, implications that the housemates r jerks before, imo boring chapter just some comfort for sickness times

Vote the poll down below n im gonna start making the next part after 20 votes

part 8

You can barely get out of bed.

That means you didn't get to clean up your post-exam clutter. Making the entire room miserable and almost unhabitable. You couldn't sleep because you had a terrible fever, needing to eat a couple of paracetamols to cool yourself down.

Anything that goes in your mouth comes back up. You wouldn't want to waste your food anymore, so you simply stopped eating.

You woke up to loud knocking, borderline banging on your door and to the voice of your housemate. She's yelling about someone being here to see you.

That can't be right. Why would anyone want to visit you? You're not asking this in a self depreciating way, but in a logical sense where you knew no one knew you're suffering from food poisoning.

Except...

Realization dawns upon you when you hear a series of softer knocks. You heard Yves's muffled voice from the outside, asking you to open the door for him.

You checked your phone. It's four in the afternoon. He should still be at the library, why is he here?

Then your focus went to the notification banner about the four missed calls he left.

"(Name)? It's Yves. You haven't been answering my calls. I'm worried about you."

The last person you want to see now is goddamn fucking Yves. Yesterday already took a toll on you, having him over is going to worsen the illness- if the fever didn't fry your brain, the stress would.

You refused to answer, covering your head with your pillow as he continued to knock.

Eventually though, he stopped. The walls are thin so you could hear him ask your housemate about you. She said you were hurling all night, keeping everyone awake. They witnessed you trying to eat a cooked packet of instant noodles, but you immediately threw it all up the moment you swallowed a forkful.

"I see." You hear him reply. "May I see the kitchen?" He asked.

She was taken aback by the request, a kitchen shared by 7 other students isn't going to be the cleanest. There was a pause before she told him that it was messy.

"That does not matter." He responded. You heard a sigh and she verbally told him to go ahead.

You're sure he knows what the condition of it is. He was there yesterday for the trash bags. You wonder what business he has there.

When you hear him walk away from your bedroom door, you force yourself and your aching muscles to creep out of your room. Planning to eavesdrop on his conversation.

"Is this all they eat?" His voice echoed through the hallway.

"Yes. I literally have never seen them eat anything else. Maybe the occasional cold pizza slice or two, but that's it. I don't think they even own a frying pan. Sometimes I wonder how that bastard is still alive." Ouch. A simple Yes would suffice. Why did she have to air your dirty laundry like that?

You heard the fridge open.

"Yeah, this was supposed to be their side of the fridge, but it was always empty. So we used it as a spare." Yves hummed in response.

You rushed back into your room when you heard his heels begin to strike the floor. Quietly shutting the door and tucking yourself into your bed.

Perhaps he's giving up, you're not coming out of your-

You stared wide eyed as the knob twisted by itself.

You forgot to lock your door. Shit, you fucking forgot to lock your door.

You heard one last set of calm knocking and Yves voice: "(name), I'm coming in."

He pushed it open and you see his tall, slender frame coming into view. His hair is flowy and luscious as usual, clear skin and pristine makeup on his beautiful face. While you look like crap. And your room looks like crap, you can barely see the floor.

You gape at the square of translucent hydrocolloid dressing on the back of his hand. Looks like his burn yesterday started to blister.

"Damn! You live like this?" Your housemate expressed her disbelief when her eyes landed on the clothes, indiscernible between used and washed, strewn all over the place. The opened drawers and stacks of empty cups.

You hid under your blanket, you told her to shut up and get the fuck out of your room.

"Alright, you're a grump cause you're sick. But just so you know, you're still on garbage duty this week." She responded.

You groan, telling her that you knew that already. You told her to go away. But she doesn't respect you, none of your housemates do.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Yves politely dismissed her. She agrees and leaves your room immediately. Yves closes the door to maintain some privacy.

You remained hidden under the sheets, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

"You poor thing." He sighed. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge. He gently peeled the blanket off your head, using the other hand to stroke your hair.

"You haven't eaten today, have you?" The fingers running through your grimy hair was... comforting. Too comforting, perhaps. You involuntarily started tearing up and crying, being reminded of a simpler time in your life. It brought back the feelings of security and safety, which you haven't felt in such a long while. You forgot how it felt, and it felt extremely good.

He stopped his caresses, but rested his hand on your scalp.

You told him you didn't mean to weep. You had no idea what has gotten into you. However, you're sure you're crying because of the state of your room and how two people had to see it- which includes someone with opinions you value very much: Yves.

He continued his affectionate touches as tears kept falling from your eyes.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Yves kept you company until you fell asleep from his rhythmic stroking. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before standing back up.

Yves sets his bag on your bed, he gets to work picking up stray articles of clothing from the floor. He dropped them all into your laundry basket in a messy pile.

Yves picked it up with no effort and carried it on his hip. He left your room and headed towards the basement, where the dryers and washing machines are kept. He knows where it is despite no one ever telling him.

--

You woke up with a jolt, thinking that Yves intruding your room was just a crazy fever dream.

Except, the presence of his unique luxury bag is right next to you. Scanning your surroundings, you definitely can tell Yves made his mark here.

You can see the floor again, you didn't know that it's that shiny and clean. All your clothes are missing and the corners are clear of any old trash. Everything you own is organized neatly, the shelves are displaying their respective categories in order. Your desk was wiped down and your textbooks arranged by colour.

Your room is unrecognizable, it wasn't even this nice when you first moved in.

Yves is nowhere to be found. You weakly got up and dragged yourself to the door. Locking yourself in and Yves out.

You always wondered what is in that bag. It seems to be carrying an impossible amount of items. Though, he uses a briefcase for his laptop and notes on weekdays, it's impressive that he managed to fit an umbrella in this small bag among other things.

You opened it and began rummaging through.

A lipstick, a compact mirror, disposable wet wipes, a hydrating facial spray, dry facial tissues, a hairbrush, his phone, a tin of breath mints, his oddly thin wallet- it made sense, the rich wouldn't carry around wads of cash. Only cards; An army Swiss knife, bandaids, a rectangle of a foldable grocery bag...

A set of keys attached to his car fob, a pen, some unidentifiable medication; it's printed in a foreign language, a case containing his reading glasses, another case that contains his sunglasses, portable eating utensils, a bottle of hand sanitizer, disinfectant spray, a power bank, charging cables, a portable fan, a hand fan, electronic ear buds, ear plugs...

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you kept finding more things; perfume, a scrunchie, a couple of hair ties, sun screen, ointment, his reusable stainless steel thermal cup, lip balm, a face mask, portable paper soap, a stack of sticky notes and of course, an umbrella.

You dug deeper and found out that he's also hiding a scarf in there!

All that with heaps of space to spare, it doesn't look bulky from outside or in. You tried lifting it up by the handles, but it felt like you were trying to lift a barbell with one hand. It was bizarre how he could find what he wanted in the nick of time with all these things. Granted, it was neatly partitioned before you searched through it- oh. You messed up his system.

Shit! You're going to embarrass yourself again!

Well, you still have time. The door is locked and he isn't here yet, you could try putting it back.

You heard the door knob rattle. That must be him, he can't possibly get in right?

Your blood turned to ice when you heard the jingling of some keys. Of course, it's Yves. He would know to take your own keys with him. You heard him unlock your door.

You panicked and tried to hop out of bed, so you could barricade the door with something. But while doing so, you knocked the bag off the bed and made the contents of it spill out.

You let out a distressed yelp, his ten million things spread out all over the floor, some rolled under your bed.

"Did I startle you? I apologize." He came in with a laundry basket filled with freshly washed clothes. They're dry and warm to the touch. The basket looks noticeably clean too. Did he scrub it down? The dust and mold are gone, it went back to looking brand new.

You began apologizing, saying that you didn't mean to knock his bag down. You saw that as a potential escape from getting caught snooping around.

"No, it was my fault to leave it near the edge. It was bound to fall." He set the basket down and calmly began picking his belongings off the floor.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. You're off the hook.

But obviously he knows what you did. His scarf shouldn't even be out of his bag, as he packed it at the bottom. His keys, lipstick and wallet should be the first to leave, yet it remained safely in the toppled bag because you flipped everything upside down while being a nosy person.

Plus, it was zipped up in the first place.

If he didn't want you peering in, he would have hidden it under your bed.

You got down on your knees and helped him collect the items. You dumped it back into the handbag, but Yves nonchalantly pulled it all back out to organize them himself.

"Thank you." He stood back up and securely placed it on your nightstand.

He turned to you and crowded you against the bed. Yves slid his hands under your chin, where the pulse is, checking your temperature by touch. You flinch and squirm because you're ticklish, but he paid no mind to it.

"You're having a fever." He noted. You release a baited breath when he lets you go, reaching for something inside his handbag.

You watch him unscrew the lid of his thermos cup. There isn't any particular Colour to the liquid. But there was a faint fruity scent emanating from it. The ice cubes bob around the mystery fluid. He also produced a metal straw which he plunged into the drink, you must have missed it when you were rummaging through.

He popped two tablets of paracetamol out of a blister pack and brought them to your lips. It's better to just let him feed you, so you took it in your mouth.

"Take small sips." He brought the straw to you.

The beverage is... salty. And sweet. It's sickeningly fragrant for a drink that's supposed to be enjoyable. Except it's not, it's an electrolyte solution he prepared to make up for the ones you lost. The coldness saved it.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were, he placed the cup in your hands before walking back to the laundry hamper. He opened a drawer and began folding your clothes into a neat stack.

You're starting to think he just likes silence. He has a perfectly functioning pair of expensive earbuds, but he doesn't use them neither does he want to initiate a conversation with you.

You put your drink away and flopped down onto your bed. You picked up your phone and decided to check your notifications.

You received a number of messages from the group chat with your housemates.

"(name) u gotta get ur bestie to visit more cuz this is the cleanest the kitchen has ever been!!!"

Attached to it is a series of before and after pictures of the entire house. You almost couldn't recognize the place, it was tidy and sparkling clean.

The rest of your housemates agreed in text, telling you that he was such a pleasant conversationalist.

"oh ya idk if hes still here but he made a massive pot of congee for u, its a fuckin banger u should try it" "Damn u lucky as hel to have him take out da trash on ur behalf, that shit was nasty and he did it without gloves too" "His car is still outside, he has got to be here." "oh shiiiittt hes gotta be LOADEDDD with a hot ride like that. where did u find him??" "Omg!! I need his recipe!! Can you ask him for it, pretty please, (name)? Maybe his number too??" "lawlz not u being hornyz on main" "lmaoo fuckin simp" "im not!! :(( he's just so sweet and handsome, im not stealing their man or anything, i just wanna get to know him!! you guys are just mean!!" "whatever u say president desperate"

You read all their text messages that devolved into banterings, looks like all your housemates know him now. You wonder what he talked about with them. What was there to talk about?

You were brought back to reality when you heard him shut the draw. He left your room once more to retrieve something.

Your phone pinged, alerting you of another text message.

"BRUH hes really still here"

Shortly after, you received a picture taken in the kitchen. Looks like the photographer tried to be subtle from its angle.

The photo showed Yves's back as he scoops something from a pot into a bowl, using a metal ladle.

"shit (name) how did u pull such a fine man It's literally 9pm rn" "What time did he come here tho?? Ik i came home at 6 and i saw him mopping the floor" "like 4pm" "FIVE HOURS ?? (NAME) TELL UR BESTIE HES WELCOME HERE ANYTIME WE WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR HIM"

At least they seem to be less of pricks to you than before, all thanks to Yves. But it's such a shame that it took a good-looking servicing stranger to get them to act nice towards you.

"(Name), you have to eat something." You looked up from your cracked screen to see Yves holding a bowl of steamy congee. He pulled the chair from your desk and sat next to your bed.

"Sit up straight." He caressed the small of your back. You complied with his command while he stacked your pillows to make a backrest.

It has a mild, pleasantly savoury aroma.

He fed you by the spoonful agonizingly slow, you're horrified that you're now used to this gesture. It isn't something you feel flustered about, it just feels... right. It feels normal and it's as if he's done this for your entire life.

You're getting more comfortable with him and that scares the fuck out of you.

You're surprised that it's not making you want to hurl, the meal is actually bettering your stomach and you wanted to eat more even after finishing the entire bowl. It's definitely bland in your dictionary, since it's only seasoned with salt, pepper and freshly made chicken stock. But it was heavenly. And its the only thing you can stomach now.

You asked for more. You were shocked when your request is denied.

"You're full. You are going to vomit if I give you more. That's enough for now, I'll give you another bowl an hour later." He dabbed the corners of your mouth with a facial tissue.

You froze.

He is right. You are full. You wanted more because it tasted great, but you would have thrown it all up again.

It's eerie how he knows you better than you know yourself. And this is only the third time you have spoken to him. This doesn't seem right, does it?

Yves left your room once more to keep the dishes away. Predictably, the group chat blew up with astonished reactions that Yves appeared right before their eyes again.

You massaged your forehead, wondering if you should have been a bit more firm in saying no to Yves. But he just makes you so weak against him.

You checked the time and the digits turned from 9:59pm to 10:00pm.

It's getting very late.

[anti-cyra]

New Love and Deepspace au/series poll!

I have a few ideas in my head, but alongside fixing stuff here and there for other bots, tweaking stuff, and moving bots... I figured I'd try a quick poll for the next series so I'll know what to focus on! I still have, like, a few bots from when I held requests that I haven't made because my brain isn't braining for those, but they will be done and any other request informally given has still been noted somewhere if I remembered to list it down (sorry for the wait!!!)

Idk how many people on Tumblr follow me for my LaDS bots in particular but like, most of you who actually talk to me are for sure from the fandom soooo... I don't mind even if it's just the seven or so of you who show up in my notifs HAHAHA love u guys.

For clarification, I consider mini-series to be different from just making the same au for each bot. Series examples would be the Philos University and Philos Manor series. This is not the same as just making yandere/alpha/boyfriend versions for all the boys, which is more on just au versions. In this poll, there are options for both.

Also, all of these will include Caleb because I miss him, I love him, I need to make more of him...

general idea number one: Mini Series — Royalty AU, harem-ish (like the vampire one, but maybe more connected and more romantic for sure) where it's all the boys vying for you. Kinda arranged marriage vibes, too, I guess? Like my other series, it'll be 2nd POV!

general idea number two: AU Versions — Ex-Boyfriends! This is pretty straightforward. If you also follow my LOVER series, you know I'm a sucker for exes (not my actual exes tho they all suck just the concept lmao) and the pining and exes to lovers idea.

general idea number three: Mini Series — Mafia AU, may not be that romantic, but I'm still aiming for a harem-ish vibe and definitely... thrilling? I was thinking I'll also maybe do duo or trio bots for this one (the F4/F5 ones from the school series for this AU are a little too much I think) and also, you're the boss leader (sorry Sylus) ((on that note, I also kinda wanna add Luke and Kieran into this one...)) And again, in 2nd POV.

general idea number four: AU Versions — Girldads! I had an anon mention wanting to see girldad Zayne and I figured I'd also make one for the rest. This is under the assumption that you're also married to them, so it's also Husband AU and domestic.

I'll probably end up making all of these in the future, maybe according to the number of votes, as well. Thanks for participating, if you do! ♡

Edit: I might end the poll once I hit 40 votes or in the next day or so! A week is a bit too long, I just realized... but a day was too short... but those were my only options...

Update, at 41 votes:

aaaand that puts Royalty AU as first out! Don't worry though, I'll have Girldads out very soon as well ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Update: Royalty AU out now!

[retiredficwriter]

me? being tagged by @jetsteelyourheart ?? what an honor!

just like the top 5 favorite characters: Make a poll with 5 of your favorite rarepairs/crackships. See which one is everyone's favorite!

i became too invested in this. some of these ships i haven't thought in years, so it was nice to relive the times i was obsessed with them. i narrowed it to one ship per media/fandom and just like my tag-buddy, I'll provide my questionable reasons/propaganda.

REASONS/PROPAGANDA

Sydney Sage/Trey Juarez:

so when i was first reading bloodlines, i read online that sydney gets a human boyfriend in book 2. i had heard about brayden but never in the context of HIM being the boyfriend, so i thought he was the random dude in book 1 (wasn't he, unironically, called hayden??) who asked sydney out. i was theorizing who that boyfriend would be until my brain went: "omg.... IS IT TREY??" and got soo hyped. i loved their interaction in book 1 and thought exploring them in a romantic setting would be so interesting, especially with the implication of trey having a major role. they are so similar (growing up in a cult, daddy issues, both being smart) and yet, trey has some adrian-like traits?? charming, popular in the dating pool, laidback... and it would create some tension between sydrian??? imagine adrian watching trey and sydney date and feeling discouraged because she found a human "version" of him?? and with trey being a warrior, he would try to get sydney to have the alchemist side with them and push the "moroi are evil" narrative, creating more doubts for sydney to rebel! BUT THEN SYDNEY HELPS TREY REBEL AGAINST THE WARRIORS!!

i love their friendship as is, and know for a fact they wouldn't last that long but man... i would have eat up their failed romance.

bonus point for an adrian/sydney/trey polycule

Rachel Berry/Sam Evans:

ah yes. my first ever rarepair. since that one episode in season 2 where she and finn helped sam with his young siblings, i fell in love with them. if you were in the glee fandom, you know every single couple was problematic one way or the other (this is the writers' fault). yet somehow, every relationship sam was in, it was the healthiest the woman he was with ever had. and i wanted that for rachel! i ate all the crumbs this show gave me, which were... almost nonexistent. the big difference between this rarepair and the others on this poll is that, in the show's final season, THEY BECAME CANON. I WAS SO HAPPY. they were very unpopular because it came out of nowhere and the writers only put them together to give rachel a love interest for the final season (and give the storyline they planned for finn to someone else), which... fair. but he was so caring, encouraging her to follow her dreams and telling her the tough truth about things she didn't want to hear. it was so good to see rachel heal from finn and her failed broadway dreams while with sam. (also she was less insufferable with him).

but then, ha... they broke up on the third to last episode of the series. so she could be with jesse who showed up out of nowhere on that same episode, after he "left" 4-3 seasons ago. don't get me wrong - i love st. berry! jonathan groff and lea michelle have chemistry! love ambitious broadway wannabes being a power couple! but why not, i don't know, put the storyline she had with sam with jesse instead so it could be more organic and avoid crushing my dreams???

i'm fine. not bitter at all. I'M FINE. I'M F-

Clarisse La Rue/Silena Beauregard (PJO):

this isn't a rarepair compared to the previous two, but within the pjo fandom, it isn't as popular (surprisingly?? at least in ao3. i'm so out of the loop). first time reading pjo, little old only thought of clarisse and silena as best friends. but as i got older and read more fan analysis of the series, i realized the tragedy of these two. either 1) clarisse had an unrequited crush 2) they dated and didn't work out 3) it was a failed situationship. the daughter of ares, the girl people in camp-half blood are so scared of because she is mean to everyone and can (and will) beat the shit out of them, had a wholesome friendship with the daughter of aphrodite, and one of the nicest people in the camp?? and this friendship appeared because silena helped clarisse with her "boy problems"??? and then clarisse basically protected and comforted silena after what happened with charlie?? no spoilers for those who haven't read the books, but they parallel a famous greek mythology couple and their ending hurts. still love silena/charlie, but god... poor clarisse...

can't wait to keep rereading the books and suffer once i get to their part!

Gary "Eggsy" Unwin/Roxy Morton (Kingsman)

everyone prefers hartwin and merlin/eggsy, but i can't help but love mortwin. i watched the first movie and loved their small moments. loved how they bonded over being the underdogs in the competition and, instead of becoming sworn enemies, they recognized each other as worthy opponents. their small fun, friendly-rivarly banter was cute. part of me was relieved they stayed as friends in the end... but i couldn't help but be soo disappointed. the chemistry? it was there!! even taron egerton said there was potential to explore a romance if given the chance! plus, i'm a sucker for well-developed friends-to-lovers.

never watched the sequel but after reading what the writers did to roxy, i'm glad i didn't and never will. i can now create my own sequel in my head and read fanfics of the story they deserve 😌

Bella Swan/Leah Clearwater (Twilight):

i want to thank this one brazilian fanfic i found years ago (and never wrote down the name and lost it 😔) for presenting me with this ship. everyone talks about bella/alice, bella/rosalie, bella/carlisle... but what about bella/leah??? think new moon, when bella has just been abandoned by edward, meeting the werewolves through jacob and therefore leah, who is still dealing with the whole paul/emily thing. they can still start out with leah hating bella but they can bond over being abandoned by their boyfriends and heal from it, and in the end realize they don't need them anymore - they can have each other!

i also love if edward still comes back and bella is conflicted, and it's a edward/bella/leah love triangle (apparently people ship edward/leah and how i never heard of it?! imagine the drama!!) i will take anything where jacob isn't involved

tagging @morocorra @forcebookish @artianaiolanthe @sydneysageivashkov + anyone who wants to do this!

[genericpuff]

Winter is Coming - Rekindled schedule adjustment and plans for next year!

So it's that time of year now when conventions, markets, and expos for next year are rolling out their submission periods. So far I've gotten accepted to attend the Atlantic Entertainment Expo again (both venues so two shows), MiraCon, and I'm gonna be attending not one, not two, but THREE tattoo expos ! Which is definitely a lot, but I'm excited, it's gonna be good publicity and good money :' ) I'm also gonna be applying to HalCon, Geekquinox, and Animaritimes again, I didn't get in on HalCon this year and didn't find out about Geekquinox until submissions were done (and I only got in on Animaritimes at the last minute when they were looking for people to fill in) but if I do get into any (or all) of those, I'll have to play the fun game of "make sure none of these events land on the same weekend" LMAO

All that's to say, it's gonna be busy next year! (and all of those are the ones I actually decided to apply to, there are ones I did this past year that I'm not planning on doing again because they just didn't turn out to be as good as I had hoped). Thankfully, none of this is starting up until spring, so I'm gonna enjoy the winter off and get to work on new stuff to sell. I'm really eager to get through the rest of [AFTERBIRTH], it's still got quite some time until it's done but my plan is to pitch Thread of Fate to publishers once [AFTERBIRTH] is finished - and if it's not able to get in with those publishers, then I'm gonna pursue other means in getting it published, either digitally or traditionally. Time Gate is a series I've been working on for well over a decade of my life, and it's not something I want to keep throwing to the wolves of free-to-read platforms like WT. As much as I love being able to offer it for free, I want it to be taken more seriously than being just another free to read comic and that starts with me and how I choose to distribute it.

Right now working on all these things is sort of limiting due to the fact that I'm stuck on my iPad, but I'm making it work as best I can and I'm hoping to have the new PC setup going by the end of the year running with a new tablet (currently shopping around between an XP-pen and Huion, I don't want to get a Kamvas 22 Plus again if it's gonna shit the bed in 2 years like this one did, apparently this is a common problem from what I've seen :/)

So yeah, with all that in mind, I'm planning on adjusting Rekindled's update schedule. While I did initially want to offer a poll for y'all to choose between "shorter updates once a week" and "full updates once every 2 weeks", frankly I'm erring more towards the "every two weeks" one because it'll give me more actual time and room to work on everything else. Not to mention (and I'm sure you've all noticed by now) that I have a very specific way that I structure many of these episodes so making them shorter would sort of ruin that rhythm. I don't want to be sacrificing the comic's quality, pacing, or narrative progression for a schedule adjustment.

This isn't going to be an immediate change, I'm thinking of doing this sometime in December so that y'all can have a decent amount of heads up before the switch. I know it's gonna be a little painful to go to a slower release schedule but ultimately I think it's the best way to go so that I can balance all of the projects I have going on without sacrificing quality. Rekindled may be a free to read non-profit project, but I still hold myself to high standards and I want to do my best to deliver on those standards !

Thank you all so much for your patience and support. It seriously blows me away to see all of the wonderful comments, asks, and support for what I do here every day. I'm gonna do my best as well to respond to asks in my inbox as they come in, but please just know I get a LOT of them on a regular basis, it's sort of a Hydra situation where I respond to 1 or 2 and then get 4 more LOL That said, rest assured that I do read and appreciate each and every one of them <3 That also includes essay posts about LO, with LO returning in November I'll surely have more stuff to say about it so I'm gonna try and keep up as best I can :' )

On a final note, we're coming up to the one year anniversary of when I started posting actual episodes of Rekindled!! I'm so excited for this, I can't believe it's been a year!! And I have so much awesome stuff planned for the story that we're gonna see throughout the next year, I can't wait! Thanks so much for being a part of this project with me, I couldn't have asked for a better audience <3

(P.S. everything I have lined up for next year is lining up with the dry period for FF XIV between Endwalker and Dawntrail so I won't have distractions until the summer LMAOO)