#but the writing for him falls so short

[youngpettyqueen]

the thing about Harry is he occasionally has these moments that I really enjoy but those are diamonds in what is otherwise a whole lotta rough

[seiwas]

SEL MY SEL …….. crawling over here for the ask game …………… you already know . who i’m going to ask for phdkdjdkdb IN MY DEFENSE I WILL NEVER GET OVER YOUR VERSION OF HIM !!!!!!!

….. sugu ….. with ’sun’ ……. maybe 👉👈

(🍵 <- a little matcha for your troubles … good luck with the writing exercises my loveee <33 i’m cheering you on!!!)

ARI 🥹🥹🥹🥹 hehe ofc i shall write sugu for u! writing him is always so fun 🥹 thank you for the prompt, and for the matcha!! i will be sipping it as i write this 🥹 it is not a trouble at alllll!! esp if it's for youuuuu 🫶

contains: beautiful, gorgeous, sexy neighbor suguru, mood can be a bit unsettling... honestly a little stockholm syndrome-y (does this count as dark? idk 😭), skewed concept of reality and time

suguru + sun

you move into a new neighborhood on your 24th birthday.

it's a quaint house, fully furnished with wooden panels lining its contemporary build. you consider yourself lucky for finding a place this well-kept at the price point you offered. you're honestly surprised that suguru, your now landlord, accepted your application.

the area sits a few kilometers on the outskirts of the city, but it feels neither too quiet nor too busy; a perfect balance with an impressive view of the rising sun this early in the morning. that, and the people seem friendly, greeting you as they pass by. they even offer to help you haul things out of your car and into the house.

to the right of your house is one that holds the same design elements at yours, although a bit darker in its tones. it's sleek and modern, befitting of a bachelor.

"you must be the new tenant," a voice speaks from behind you, syrupy and smooth. you didn't even hear his footsteps.

when you turn around, you're met with a tall man who greets you with his arms held behind his back as he tilts his head low. there's a calmness that radiates off him, a sort of gentleness that signals he’s someone you can trust.

you nod, introducing yourself with your hand outstretched towards him.

"suguru," he replies as his fingers grab yours delicately. your eyes widen in surprise, recognizing the name, and he merely chuckles in return, a soft laugh that brings out kindness in his eyes.

"i should greet you properly," he lets go of your hand, placing it back behind him. "hello, new neighbor."

.

over shared breakfasts by your porch and impromptu dinners over at his, you grow a liking to suguru. he's polite and thoughtful, often knocking at your door in the mornings to offer you a cup of tea to watch the sunrise.

"you'll only find sunrises like this here," he leans back on the wooden chair you set out as outdoor furniture. his head tilts towards you slightly, impossibly close as you notice the corner of his lips curl up into a small grin.

hues of pinks, purples, and orange blend to illuminate his face perfectly. the sun is beautiful in front you, peeking between clouds as it inches away from the horizon, but something about him is infinitely more magnetic. your stare is immediately drawn to his lips, smooth and supple, before it meets his gaze.

you don't know what's worse―wanting to lean in or be pulled by the look in his eyes.

he fixes things that break in your home, always somehow knowing just when to show up. at first, it was your windows, the one by the attic, too high and dangerous for you to climb; then, it was your kitchen sink, its pipes regurgitating the water going down the drain. he's begun to bring you your groceries too, often asking for a list of what you need when he makes trips out of town.

your days blur easily when you're with suguru, and time passes almost fleetingly as you find your hours filled with soft laughs and touches so delicate you sometimes wonder whether they're real.

it should be noted, you think, how much time has passed since you first met him―an anniversary of some sort.

.

you learn that he owns both houses―his and the one you're currently renting. it once belonged to a friend who had to move for bigger, greater responsibilities elsewhere, he'd said.

"why did you decide on renting?" you ask him one night, over wine and candlelight.

your fingers fiddle with his as he sits you on his lap, this thing between you growing more intimate lately. he rubs his thumb along your thigh, resting his chin by your shoulder.

"you could have sold it or something."

he presses his lips gently on your collarbone.

"i could've," his fingers trail up to your waist, crossing your chest before landing on your chin, cupping it lightly to face him. your heart is hammering in your chest, senses on fire as his nose kisses yours. you think you can count every mole that dots his face beautiful. then, he inches closer, lips grazing yours as he whispers, "but i was waiting for you."

.

you mark each day at sunrise.

your digital clocks and calendars stopped working after some time, but you don't mind. suguru always tells you what date it is when you ask.

this morning, you wake up in his bed, and the sun is still as breathtaking as you remember it, the same pink, purple, and orange hues streaming through his window. when you look closely, the clouds―

"good morning," he brings you tea in bed, his hair topped off with a bun, a half-up-half-down.

your stomach fills itself with something warm and fuzzy as you smile at him, "morning."

"slept well?" his hand reaches for your waist under the duvet, and you giggle, ticklish.

"very," you crane your neck to land a soft kiss on his lips. "what date is it today?"

"october 28," he supplies.

your eyebrows shoot up as you realize, "i have to bring my car to the mechanic."

it's been 6 months now since your last check, right before you moved, and though you barely use your car anyway, it's best to be safe.

you quickly move to get up but suguru's hand keeps you in place, firmly pressed on your waist.

"i'll do it," he says with a smile on his face, "you rest here."

.

you barely see your other neighbors except for the girl who smokes a pack of cigarettes a day and the twins down the street.

when you ask suguru about it, he dismisses the question quickly, saying, "must have moved," as he urges you to take another sip of your tea.

you dream of them that night, on bare streets; it wakes you in a cold sweat, the image of your neighborhood reduced to just your house and suguru's.

.

this is the 200th sunrise since you started counting, which means this is the 200th day since you and suguru officially got together. kind of.

your gift for him is a painting of the sunrise, because it reminds you of him; and because it's become your favorite thing to look forward to, too.

the pinks and purples blend together beautifully as it contrasts with the orange hues, and the sun continues to peak above the horizon as it settles between clouds.

suguru kisses you when you give it to him, the taste of tea right on his tongue.

he frames it on his bedside, and when you wake in his room the next morning, it greets you along with the back of his head, fast asleep.

your eyes flit to the view outside his window, the same pinks, purples, and orange hues. you tilt your head curiously, brows furrowing. the sun stays at the same spot above the horizon, and when you look at the painting again, the clouds hold the same position and shape.

a chill washes over you, your hearbeat pounding.

.

"what date is it today?" you ask suguru as you wash the potatoes in the sink.

another bag of groceries from suguru. now that you think about it, you don't think you've ever gone to the grocery store since moving.

"is it important?" he responds, slightly snappy. you've begun to notice that he hates it when you ask lately.

you eye him from the side.

"i was thinking of preparing a menu of what we'll eat during the holidays, if it's near."

the furrow on his brows smooths out as you give your answer, and so he says, "december 5."

and you know something is wrong, because that can't be it. it doesn't make sense with the sunrises you've counted.

.

you dream again, more and more as the days go by―dirt roads and your house and suguru's, run-down and empty. more things start breaking in your apartment, and suguru always knows when they need to be fixed.

there's a deep, twisting feeling in your stomach that intensifies, festering under your skin; it worsens in the mornings, when you sit with suguru at your porch and you think you see a crack in the sunrise.

.

sunrise valley the place where the sun never sets! ─── beautiful, bright, and destined for people who live just like you! find your new home here.

[DISCONTINUED] — FOR DEMOLITION ON DECEMBER 7. under investigation for suspicious spiritual activity and missing persons.

[ragnarokhound]

For the au ask game!

OKAY I wanted specifically to get to the pokemon au from the ask you sent, it's been cooking a bit so it's time to see what comes out of the oven, so... @azol-otl ty for the ask!

Crossover au's are all about the fused worldbuilding for me and speculating on how characters from universe A would fit into universe B heehee hoohoo - and for Batfam especially it's fun to think about the equivalent of their roles as vigilantes! What kind of people have the same level of celebrity, the same sideways seeking of justice?

Naturally this leads you to the gym leaders because a) it's the most fun and b) they are like. Quasi-law enforcement/educators/professional athletes depending on how you try to translate the innate child's perspective on the pokemon universe into something that makes sense as an adult lol ilu pokemon. [insert 'compels me though' gif here]

SO with this in mind, here's 5 fun facts (that are mostly backstory lmao) from a jaytim pokemon au I would write

I'm deeply ill about pokemon so this one goes under the cut lol:

Jason Todd used to be the Champion. He won the role after Dick Grayson quit a year or two before (Dick had been getting older and chafing under the League rules - meaning he'd been chafing under how Bruce ran the League) and was a fierce competitor who didn't believe in going easy on anyone. His Houndoom was a force to be reckoned with, and despite running a mostly Dark-type team, his Honchkrow cleaned up anyone thinking their Fighting-types could sweep. He looked after the League and Gotham with a cocky, self-assured attitude and the win record to back it up. .

Jason disappeared suddenly at the age of 15. Many assumed him dead, after a Rocket (Or whatever Gotham themed gang name we want to go with lol could be Team Joker) bombing in the area he'd last been seen, but he's officially declared missing. Bruce Wayne took back the duties of interim Champion as he once did for Dick Grayson, but he's not quite the mentor he once was. It's obvious he's grieving, and that he doesn't want to mentor any more twelve year olds. Dick signed up to be a Gym Leader shortly after this, returning from his trip about a year early to help out in the chaos following Jason's disappearance. .

Enter Tim Drake. Tim's gym challenge wasn't all that interesting in the circuit at first; he had a rocky start and had to retake a few gym challenges. He wasn't exactly sweeping on his first try every time like Jason had done. He didn't have the meteoric rise that caught the Champion's attention early, didn't get one-on-one mentorship or face-to-face meetings, cautionary advice and congratulations all rolled into one from Bruce Wayne himself - but Tim had patience and grit, and he paid attention. He was gunning for the Championship, and it wasn't just so he could prove himself. Team Rocket/Joker was still out there, and Bruce needed all the help he could get. He was always better for Gotham when he had a Robin. .

Dick had been nicknamed Robin for his all-Flying-type team and especially his Natu-then-Xatu; Jason followed up with his Murkrow-then-Honchkrow; Tim's Rookidee was one among many (Robin-esque pokemon were popularized by Dick and the trend remains through Tim's day) so he wasn't considered a possible Robin successor until it was a Corvisquire and he was about to face Dick Grayson himself, a badge away from Victory Road. By then, Tim and his team were a well-oiled machine (he runs mostly Steel-types lol but also Normal-types for the unexpected adaptability and the 'underestimate my rattata i dare you it's in the top peRCENTAGE--' of it all. FEAR.), and his loss-record had all but frozen while his win-record ticked higher and higher. .

Shit finally goes down about three years after Tim has become Champion and all but bullied Bruce into mentoring him (he basically said 'if you don't watch me, i'll go find Team Rocket/Joker on my own' and triggers all of Bruce's child endangerment traumas simultaneously) and the mysterious Rocket/Joker leader Red Hood shows up, bringing the gang out of the shadows in pursuit of a hidden agenda. Identity shenanigans and "wait is that a Houndoom? But he's only been using Ghost-types, it CAN'T be..." and heel-face turns abound. .

(BONUS FACT: Something something, Jason went into deep cover with Looker or whoever he is, that Interpol guy from X & Y (WAIT. LOOKER MIGHT ACTUALLY BE TALIA AL GHUL IN THIS AU HOHOHO), infiltrating the Rocket/Joker gang and going public as Red Hood is the first step in the last phase of the sting. Cue a million tense Jaytim interactions in which Tim is legitimately trying to take Red Hood down and Jason desperately tries to shake him so that he doesn't do anything that forces Jason to blow his cover. There is at least one 'tugged into a tight space to hide them both from the actual bad guys, "wait, did you just HELP me...?" "Think whatever you want, babybird"' interaction because I am a slut for the first sprinkles of a redemption arc that is rife with UST fufufu)

[sysig]

Data is stored in the right eye (Patreon)

[interestingturnofthetables]

It’s still completely absurd that Ford just happened to have a backup pair of glasses on his person when he fell through the portal.

I know it was obviously only included in the Journal to get around the whole dramatic glasses foreshadowing in the series and the portal scene in ATOTS, and for that reason alone it’s actually pretty funny and one of my favourite ‘random Ford character details’

But as a glasses wearer myself, who the fuck carry’s a spare pair of IDENTICAL glasses on their person at all times!??!? Is this something he’s always done? Since he was a kid maybe*? Possible something he picked up in his 20’s he never dropped? But even then, why??? When you’re going out somewhere and there’s even a small possibility you could break/lose your glasses I guess it comes in handy, but how often could that realistically happen to warrant always carrying them on you? Even in your own house!

That brings me to the actual situation of he’s literally been in his own house barely leaving it (on his own) for probably months by the time of the portal incident! There’s no reason for him to carry a spare pair of glasses around his own house! Of course there’s the possibility that he started carrying a spare pair with him some time after the Bill situation; maybe he thought that if he were to wake up somewhere dangerous without his glasses, he’d have easy access to his extra pair. But if that’s the case, he’s definitely forgetting the fact that if Bill’s plan was to break his glasses to leave him stranded somewhere without being able to see clearly, he would also know about the spare pair and break those just as well! So technically speaking that would be a worse idea than to simply keep them somewhere specific in his house! Given that he had that spare pair on him during the portal incident, that entire line of thinking didn’t cross either bill or Ford’s mind (which is the most nonsensical plot hole in an attempt to patch up a prior plot hole I’ve ever seen)

Only solid explanation here is that Ford’s just always been overly cautious for a good portion of his life. And since he never thought to take his spare glasses out of his pockets, he either never got paranoid enough about Bill’s ability to fuck him over, or knew he wouldn’t stoop to that amongst the other horrors (which, raises a whole bunch of other questions outside the scope of this rant.)

Either way, I guess his paranoia paid off. If he hadn’t been carrying that extra pair that day he’d probably be dead. So good for him I guess! Maybe I should start carrying an extra pair of glasses on my person too…

[snapbackslide]

happiest of birthdays to my favourite guy 💚💚💚

fav4ever.

[3416]

Leafs vs Rangers | 4.13.23

[lupizora]

Considering how differently the Kindaichi series and Detective Conan approach the final resolution of their mystery/murder cases, I would have liked to read a fic where Conan/Shinichi and Hajime meet for whatever reality-bending reason. It would have been such an interesting discussion for them to have with each other!

Unfortunately, I haven't found anything of the sort so far 😭😭😭

[themyscirah]

Heard about TK wanting to write WW for 100 issues and do a Trinity spinoff?

Yeah.... that's the word on the street 😔

To be honest with everybody though, I don't think he's hitting 100 issues. I think Tom King THINKS he will be writing 100 issues of WW comics, but I'm very skeptical. Like it's true he got pretty close to 100 issues when he was writing Batman, but that was during Rebirth, when comics were being published twice a month. At a normal monthly pace, 100 main title issues works out to be a bit over EIGHT YEARS. Even with specials and annuals and possible events (or the Trinity spinoff) compressing that timeline, there's still no way in my mind that Tom hits 100 issues in any less than five years. He spent three on Batman. You know, Batman, his #1, the guy he has to bring up every issue? Do we really think he's going to spend over twice as long on Diana?

Like personally I'm just not convinced that Tom King cares enough about Wonder Woman to write her for that long. Like I think he likes her, and I think he thinks she's cool, but reading his book he seems to love to put the focus anywhere except on Diana. Like all the narration is done by the villain (meaning we don't get Diana's actual thoughts on any of this) and the backup are all TK's audition to write supersons (so we're losing page space that could be utilized to develop the current narrative in favor of possible future stories with no plot relevance)

Like idk. Tom King is talking the talk and I think he has the power at DC currently to walk the walk if he really wants to do it and his hype squad keeps sales high, but he hasn't convinced me so far with his work that he has it in him to see out so many issues of Wonder Woman, especially when Diana finally defeats the Sovereign, and if Trinity gets her own book, like what is he going to do with his remaining 80 issues? Actually telling WW stories?

It seems to me from what I've read of his WW and interviews abt it is that this "100 issues of Wonder Woman" thing is coming from his opinion that Diana deserves a 100-issue run, rather any great, passionate love for Diana that would actually motivate him to write her for that long.

So anyways, my stance is that if he's really putting in a long one (however long it may be) we just hope for the best, (Diana getting her narration boxes back and being central in her own story again, Trinity getting booted back to Themyscira to be forgotten raised offscreen, etc.) and try to make the most & wait it out

[elboxitracio]

Now why would my dad, this cishet construction worker pushing 60 who spend his life watching only action movies and the occasional comedy movie, suddenly got VERY into mostly romantic K-dramas ??

[lord-squiggletits]

"Rodimus is a better Prime because it didn't hurt for him to bond with the Matrix while for Optimus it did" headcanon/theory my beloathed.

One day I'm literally gonna snap and make a whole post addressing why what's wrong bc I'm tired of the inaccuracy and tired of ppl not understanding the Point TM of IDW and its version of the Matrix/Primacy and even more tired of people putting down Optimus in favor of Rodimus by essentially arguing that being unworthy means you deserve to be punished/put in pain bc you just weren't good enough to hold the Symbol of Ultimate Authority

[to-thelakes]

I also have to tell you about how excited I am for part 5! Of your fic!!! Ugh

I am so curious as to what he will do when he finally gets his hands on the reader bc I imagine it will be after the case since every time he gets even remotely close to her they get interrupted. so on the jet back he texts her everything he wants to do to her in detail and just watches the reader react to it

i saw this last night before i conked out and it just made me wanna publish part five so it's out in the world! i will answer the rest of your asks when i'm feeling more alive but i just needed to say that THIS ASK, fuck, it gave me some devious thoughts.

him texting the reader what he is going to do?? fuck, he absolutely would do that and she is sat with jj and emily or with like reid or something and they are talking and then she starts getting the messages and gets SUPER flustered and like doesn't know what to do with herself? oH my GOD, AH, i will absolutely be implementing this, this is what i needed

and although in part 5, they do get some relief, i will definitely be making part 6, the part of interruptions where the team are constantly cockblocking them because i think 1) it would be so fun to write and 2) it would mean the sexual tension is gonna be so delicious

you have gotten me so excited to write more of built to fall, AHHH, but for today, i am literally just gonna conk out on the sofa because i am so horrendously tired

[windfighter]

Excavating

There was laughter in the air. Birds talking loudly with each other. Kouji looked around, stopped when he saw them. A flock of black-headed gulls flying over a couple of excavators, occassionally diving down to get worms from the ground that was being dug up. Kouji watched as they rose and dove. It was hypnotic, calming. He could feel his body relaxing.

”Kouji?”

Takuya. Kouji had almost forgotten that the others were there as well.

”Here we see a couple of excavators in their natural habitat”, Kouji said.

”...what?” Takuya asked.

”Excavators are famous for digging hole for others to fall into and these two are currently in the process of doing just that”, Kouji continued. ”Let’s sneak closer, see if they have captured any of their prey in there.”

”You’re insane”, Takuya laughed.

Grabbed Kouji’s sleeve and Kouji laughed as well.

”A bit, maybe.”

”Didn’t know you were interested in excavators”, Junpei said and hit Kouji’s back. ”I’ll bring you along next time dad drags me to one of his train-meetings.”

”Ah…” Kouji tore free from Takuya’s grip. ”You don’t need to, it’s fine. I was just being silly.”

”What would excavators even eat?” Izumi asked.

”Gas”, Junpei said. ”They’re cars after all.”

”Yeah”, Izumi laughed, ”but in this make-believe land where they are fearsome predators?”

”I think they eat moose”, Tomoki said.

Started walking again, the rest following. Kouji put his hands in his pockets and looked at the gulls again. One had landed ontop of one of the excavators. Wondered were they would go next, when the ground had been tilled and the exposed worms eaten. Maybe to the pond. He should buy some seeds and go there too.

”Mooses are BIG thoguh”, Takuya said.

”Excavators are too”, Junpei protested. ”These ones are just babies, you should see the one they use to make new train-tracks.”

”Maybe they eat boars”, Izumi said. ”Boars need some kind of predators, they’re too cocky.”

Kouichi slowed his steps and walked next to Kouji, also with his hands in his pockets.

”You okay?” Kouichi asked quietly.

”Yeah”, Kouji laughed. ”Just… nature is pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

”It’s just excavators”, Kouichi said.

”Yeah… just excavators.”

He threw another glance at the birds, then shook his head and focused on the road instead. He’d see more birds later, but for now he was spending time with his friends.

”Maybe one day you’ll get to drive one!” Junpei called from up ahead.

Kouji laughed, shook his head and hurried his steps so he wouldn’t fall too far behind. Nature would always be there, but for now there were more important things in the world.

[jackass-jones]

Actually cry so goddamn hard when I think about Shinjiro Aragaki healing and being loved and having to learn to be okay with himself and being taken care of

[direwombat]

Havent seen any wips today so im just gonna go ahead and post what i slammed out last night

Tagged last week by @kittiofdoom

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton, @adelaidedrubman, @detectivelokis, @baldurrs, @strangefable, @fourlittleseedlings, @confidentandgood, @sstewyhosseini, @purplehairsecretlair , @roofgeese, @funkypoacher, @poetikat, @aceghosts and anyone else with something to share (but also no pressure!)

Here's a fully self indulgent scene from MUCH later on in kneeling at the crossroads where jacob officially falls in love with syb. Brief context is that he found her in a near hypothermic state in the woods and took her back to the closest cabin. this takes place after her body temperature is back up to (mostly) normal

In the few minutes it takes for Jacob to go out to the shed to retrieve more firewood, Sybille has pulled on a set of the cabin’s previous inhabitants clothes and has gone to work raiding their pantry. Between the rabbits Jacob had caught the previous night before he found her shivering on the ground and the mason jars of vegetables she finds in the cupboards, she has enough to make a halfway decent rabbit stew. Throwing on an apron, she clears the counter and begins skinning and gutting the rabbits.

She doesn’t look up from her butchering when Jacob walks back through the door, a stack of chopped and dried wood tucked under his arm. The heavy thuds of his bootsteps stop abruptly and the door clatters shut behind him. “You should be in bed,” is all he says.

She looks up, glaring at him as she rips the fur from a rabbit's body, perhaps a bit more violently than she intends. The tremor in her bones has yet to subside, but she’ll be damned if she sits aside like a helpless waif while Jacob does all the work.

“You ain’t a nurse and I ain’t a child to be taken care of,” she says. Her attention focuses back to the dead animal as she slides a short-bladed poultry knife across its belly, mindful not to pierce the intestines. “B’sides,” she continues, pulling the guts from its abdomen, “if I have to eat another thing straight from a goddamn tin can, I swear to God, Jacob, I will riot.”

For a long moment, the only sound filling the cabin is the squelching as she thoroughly disembowels the animal. Blood and viscera cover her hands, and when she realizes Jacob hasn’t moved from where he stands, rooted by the front door, she clenches her jaw and glares at him once more.

And just for a moment, the sharpness to her gaze falters. The way he’s looking at her isn’t one she’s seen before. Hunger, lust, anger -- she’s seen all sorts of dark and sordid things burning in his eyes during her many, but brief, encounters with him. But what swims behind that unwavering glacial stare is beyond her comprehension. Were it worn by anyone else, she might have called it gentle or soft.

But Jacob Seed is not a soft or gentle man. She’s fucked him and walked away with bruises and an ache in her hips often enough to know.

Her canines flash dangerously. “You got somethin’ to say?” she snaps.

“No,” he says shortly, and he turns away, moving towards the fireplace with stilted steps. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but notice the way the tips of his ears glow a bright pink.

It must still be cold outside.

He restokes the fire, and she’s grateful for the heat that quickly blossoms through the living space and kitchen. The chill had returned to her fingers, but as the fire warms and as she kicks on the gas stove to begin cooking, the trembling subsides. She throws butter into a cast iron skillet to brown the meat while sautee-ing a medley of vegetables in even more butter in an old and well loved Dutch Oven. The wafting aroma of garlic, onions, and cooking meat swirls around the cabin, and while her stomach growls loudly, for the first time in weeks, she’s actually excited for her next meal.

Even more so when she finds fresh thyme growing in the window box above the sink.

She busies herself, cleaning as she goes to keep the mess to a minimum and giving the pot the occasional stir after she’s dumped all the ingredients into the stock. All the while, she hums old French songs from the records her maman used to play.

Things feel…normal. Like if she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s back in that little house in Falls End and it’s her brother sitting on the couch. He would come up behind her and sneak a bite. She’d whack him on the hand with the wooden spoon, but then they’d both laugh -- Dear God, when was the last time she laughed?

But that little nagging voice -- the one that won’t let her have nice things; the one that keeps her alive -- reminds her that things aren’t normal. The man sitting on the couch isn’t her brother. The man sitting on the couch has repeatedly hurt her and the ones she’s sworn to protect. She wipes her hands on her apron and looks at him, just barely making eye contact before he swiftly averts his gaze to stare at fire dancing on the logs.

Things aren’t normal. Things aren’t ever going to be normal again.

But maybe…maybe here in a cabin tucked away from the rest of the world, she can pretend for just a while longer.

She gives the pot another stir, testing its thickness. It’s a little on the watery side, but well within an acceptable range for something nice and hearty. Bringing the spoon to her lips, she gives it a taste as well. Her eyes roll back into her skull and the moan she lets out is embarrassingly orgasmic. Jesus Christ, it’s been so long since she’s had a hot meal.

And then, without thinking, she calls Jacob over. “Hey,” she yells over her shoulder. “Get your ass over here.”

There’s a beat of hesitation before there’s the sound of a body lifting off a leather couch. Jacob awkwardly ambles into the kitchen, coming to stand on the other side of the island counter.

Choosing to ignore the strange distance he left between them, she dips the spoon into the pot, scooping up some stew before holding it out to him. A ritual leftover from her life before the Reaping. One inherited from her maman. “Here,” she says. “Tell me what you think.”

He stares at it, steam rising up from the chunks of meat and carrot. Then, his eyes flick to hers, meeting them with an equal intensity.

She scoffs. “I ain’t poisonin’ you, if that’s what you’re worryin’ about. You know I’d stab you in your front.” She pushes the spoon closer towards him. “C’mon.”

Slowly, he circles around the counter and stands in front of her. His eyes dart between the spoon and her face just for a moment before he’s tentatively brushing his fingers over her hand where it grips the handle. Rough calluses drag against the comparatively softer skin of the back of her hand leaving sparks in its wake. Her breathing hitches and heart flutters peculiarly -- fear instinct, she tells herself; he could so easily break her wrist if he wanted.

But he doesn’t.

His hand settles over hers, dwarfing it completely. Nice and warm, like it belongs there. He leans down, eyes falling shut as he brings his mouth to the spoon’s bowl. She never noticed how long his eyelashes were. His lips smack wetly against the wood and she holds her breath as he draws back. His eyes remain closed as he chews, thoughtfully savoring every single flavor he possibly can.

Her heart thuds in her chest and she’s sure he can feel it where he holds her hand. She looks at him expectantly and when he finally swallows and opens his eyes, that strange look he had given her before is back.

“Well?” she asks, swallowing thickly.

“It’s, uh…” he coughs awkwardly and snatches his hand away. “It’s good.”

Sybille lifts her brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grunts.

That breath she’d been holding releases, but her heartbeat has yet to slow. “Good,” she says, turning away, submerging the spoon back into the stew and hiding the flush crawling up her neck. “Because you’re helping me eat it. And if you add salt or pepper, I will be offended.” She gives him a quick glance from the corner of her eye, finding him looking adorably uncomfortable. “I’m kidding.”

Her lips quirk up. “Mostly.”

[softersinned]

you ever think about a character who just got so spectacularly fucked over by canon that you really don't know where to even start with making it right so you kind of just have to hold them in your hands and say "i love you so much and someday i'll do right by you" because