#cosy catastrophe

[romilly-jay]

Forthcoming <3 <3

Contract is signed and I'm delighted to be one of the essayists who'll be adapting Masters work into a piece for Speculative Insight journal.

In a move that will shock no-one who's heard me talk about the work over the last twelve months or so, my piece is rooted in the questions I've been asked about the possible (and is-it-is-it-a-good-idea-even-if-it-exists) sub-genre cosy catastrophe.

TBC precisely the essay will appear but probably before end 2024.

Squeee.

Here's a little bit of How This Came To Pass:

TLDR - Worldcon.

I had a hugely enjoyable time at Glasgow Worldcon 2024 - and I hope there's a bit of a sense of that in the Insta-collage of photos from the event - screenshotted and shared below.

The image in the middle of the top row shows my con pass with three ribbons attached to it. (I vastly under-estimated the speed and ruthlessness required to accumulate a long string of ribbons, but equally, all three of these are Precisely Right and I don't know that having any others would have materially increased my JOY factor?)

My ribbons are: First Worldcon // Academic Track (so lovely to receive one of these "just" for being a facilitator but it was an official, legitimate role and let me tell you, I *DID* feel the inclusion <3) // Sanctuary Moon Appreciation Society.

That last one is a fan ribbon // <3 // picked up because I attended the fan gathering for The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells and someone there managed to track down the Murderbot Diaries Ribbon Person and got them to swing by with Treasure <3 <3

This - and a reading by Charlie Jane Anders - were more or less the only things I went to (from a vast array of possibilities) that were primarily book-fanning, and this was in No Small Part self-conscious awkwardness on my part but it was also because I'd prioritised by topic, by hanging out with my hard-science-loving OH, and by the decision to support as a volunteer on the academic track.

Turned out, though, that one of the academic speakers I facilitated for was down as the host for the Murderbot hangout and when I mentioned it to her, she told me about an essay she'd written on this very topic, for, yes, Speculative Insight journal.

It all comes together HERE - and big thanks to Jo Anderton.

As a joke's on me little aside: It took me three attempts to find the Speculative Insight stand in the Exhibition and I'm very happy that I stayed with it.

However, the main reason I succeeded on the third try was... I gave in and asked the information desk for directions. Furthermore, when I did , the stand I was looking for proved to be in direct line of sight of the information desk location and less than ten steps distant from it.

I feel as though I could learn something from this?

[chronicowboy]

His breakup with Marisol is about as unremarkable as the rest of their relationship. There's no catastrophic muffin mess in his kitchen or divorce papers. Just a quiet I don't think this is working out, I'm sorry. Marisol hadn't even cried. She'd just nodded like she'd been waiting for it and left, didn't even need to grab anything from the house before she went and really that just reassured Eddie that this was the right choice.

So, his breakup with Marisol is unremarkable, except that it's not. It's pretty fucking remarkable when he thinks about it because it's not just that they weren't working out, not just that he really didn't care about spending time with her, not just the clench in his gut every time she touched him. No. It's pretty fucking remarkable because he realises he's in love with his best friend.

That's what pushes him over the edge, gives him the last kick he needs to actually break things off with her. Because Eddie may have sworn himself to secrecy about it the moment he realised, but he could never string someone along just because he couldn't have the real someone he wanted.

It's a fucking revelation once he has it. Not a ton of bricks, but the sun peeking out from behind the clouds on the greyest of days, bright and blinding. And the way Eddie has always thought of Buck in terms of sunshine maybe should have tipped him off sooner, but with the way Buck has been beaming over the past few weeks. Well. Eddie doesn't really think he can be blamed for only just taking his sunglasses off and daring to look directly at the light.

And, okay, so Eddie maybe makes it a full week before he decides his self-sworn secrecy absolutely is not a viable option when Buck walks through life now like a drop of sunshine in human form. It's after Buck leaves the Diaz house, walking out from a day of giggles and joy at the go-kart track they'd finally managed to convince Chris to be seen with them at, leaving behind a cosy heat like sun-warmed skin, that Eddie realises he cannot go another day without telling Buck that he's desperately, deeply in love with him.

And so, that's how Eddie finds himself at Buck's door on a random Sunday morning, knocking for the first time since Natalia waltzed out of the picture. Buck opens it a few moments later looking perfectly sleep-rumpled and soft and downright golden where he's backlit by the early morning sunlight pooling in the loft.

"Eddie," Buck breathes out, eyes darting up the stairs before refocusing on Eddie and what must be the most hopelessly lovesick expression painted across his face. "H-hey, what are you doing here?"

"I, um." Eddie takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous, and wipes his clammy palms on his jeans. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Now a good time?" And Buck must hear the slightly shaky steel in his voice because the surprise on his face morphs into a concern so quintessentially Buck that Eddie just wants to kiss it away.

"Y-yeah, of course, come on in." Buck holds the door open for him, and Eddie migrates to the fridge as Buck closes the door with the gentlest touch. "So, um, what's up?"

"I..." Eddie swallows against the heart in his throat, loses himself in the shining blue of Buck's eyes like an ocean he'd be more than happy to drown in. "I broke up with Marisol last week."

"Oh, Eddie." Buck slumps, and Eddie tries not to think that it looks a little like relief. "I'm so sorry, man. That sucks."

"No, no." Eddie waves him off with a laugh. "It's good. Was a long time coming actually." He shakes his head at himself. "I think I was dating her just to tick a box, you know? Realised you probably shouldn't be more excited about a phone call from your new buddy than one from your kinda long-term girlfriend. You definitely shouldn't be relieved when you see your best friend in the restaurant you're taking her to and disappointed when you realise he's just leaving."

And then, Buck blushes, ducks his head, does that little smile that could light up every house on South Bedford Street just like Eddie had been hoping for.

"Yeah." Buck looks up at him from under his lashes. "Probably not."

It bolsters Eddie. Buck's sunshine giving him that one last push he needs.

"There was something else I wanted to say," Eddie starts. And there isn't really any fear in him, knows they'll make it through this no matter what, just an overwhelming sense of peace to come. "I..." A deep breath, gathering all his love and devotion in his lungs so it's ready to pour out on his next inhale and—

A groan from upstairs has the words dying in his throat. A masculine groan. And then:

"Evan?"

"D-down here," Buck calls back.

Eddie can't take his eyes off the loft, stuck there like a car crash he can't look away from as a very shirtless Tommy Kinard appears at the top of the stairs and quickly blanches.

"Shit. Um..." He looks down at Buck in a panic.

Eddie finally manages to drag his eyes away from the very chiselled curveball that just hit him at a hundred miles per hour and finds Buck's face. Small, scared, shaken. He knows the feeling. And because he loves Buck, because of just how deeply he loves Buck, it's the easiest thing in the world to lock that love away and let his face crack into the most genuine of grins. Because if Tommy's been the thing making Buck shine like every fucking star in the sky, well Eddie will absolutely not be getting between them.

"You've been so happy," Eddie chokes out, still smiling.

"I have," Buck whispers.

"And I'm so happy for you." Eddie covers the distance between them in three long strides and pulls Buck into a hug so tight and clinging he's sure it's a confession in and of itself, but Buck only buries in deeper, taking shaky little breaths in the crook of Eddie's neck.

"Thank you," Buck murmurs into his skin. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden rush of tears.

"Sorry you didn't get to tell me on your own terms," he murmurs back, letting Buck pull away, but lingering with a hand on his hip, on his shoulder. He should maybe be worried about what this could look like to Tommy who had basically never heard anything apart from rambles about Buck, except when he glances up the stairs, Tommy is nowhere to be seen.

"I was going to tell you," Buck rushes out. "I-I just wasn't sure how."

"That's okay," Eddie says. It's okay. It's okay. "Well, I'll stop gate-crashing for the... Second time?" He raises an eyebrow, and Buck flushes a pink Eddie will never ever get to taste. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense." He remembers the pure fear on Buck's face, the indecision on Tommy's and the sudden tightening of his own chest despite his smile. "I'll leave you guys to it." He clears his throat. "Kinard, if you hurt him, they'll never find your body," he shouts up the stairs.

"Copy that, Diaz," Tommy shouts back.

"I'm really proud of you, Buck." Eddie wraps him in another hug then, a quick thing, just one last touch before Eddie seals every desire away for good.

"Thanks, Eddie." Buck walks him to the door, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Eddie wants to hug him again. Wants so badly it hurts. But if he hugs Buck again, he doesn't think he'll ever let go. "See you at work tomorrow."

"See you at work." Eddie prays Buck is too distracted to hear the wobble in his voice.

"Wait, sorry, what did you want to talk about?"

Eddie freezes on the threshold, the stutter of his heart painful like he's back in a suit store, and he catches himself on the doorframe with a shaking hand.

"It can wait."

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Four.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You can't breathe.

It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.

You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.

Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.

"Sweetheart?"

It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.

"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."

She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.

"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."

She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"

You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.

"Everything's such a mess, Mama."

She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.

"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."

You take a shaky breath before replying.

"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."

She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.

"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."

"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"

You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.

"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."

"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."

"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"

You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."

"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."

A pause.

"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."

"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."

He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.

"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."

You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.

"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."

"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."

"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."

You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.

Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.

"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."

"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"

"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."

"Love you, baby girl."

"Love you too. Both of you."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.

The beach.

You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.

You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.

You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.

"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"

He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.

"Bucky, please!"

He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.

"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.

You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.

"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.

"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."

He looks at you in disbelief.

"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"

You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.

"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"

"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"

"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"From blowing your life up for me!"

You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.

"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.

"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."

He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.

"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."

When he doesn't say anything, you continue.

"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."

You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.

"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"

"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"

You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.

"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."

Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.

"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."

"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."

"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."

Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.

"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."

"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."

"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."

"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."

You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.

"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.

"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."

You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.

He doesn't let go the whole way home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky takes you to his house.

You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.

It's overwhelming.

Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.

You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.

It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.

You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.

"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."

"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."

A pause.

"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"

"You do?"

"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."

"Tea sounds good. Please."

You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.

"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."

You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.

J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.

The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.

Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.

"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"

You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.

When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."

"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."

"Mine too," you laugh softly.

It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.

"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."

"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."

"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.

You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.

"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"

Your voice cracks just saying the word.

"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."

"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."

"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."

"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."

Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.

"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"

He takes a deep breath, and continues.

"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."

You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.

"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"

"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."

Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.

"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."

"All the time in the world."

You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.

You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.

"So you'll go."

"I'll go."

"And I'll stay."

"You'll stay."

"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."

You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The happiness is starting to seep through.

You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.

You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.

"Bitch!"

You know who it is instantly.

"Hi, Lacie."

"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"

"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"

"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"

You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.

"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."

"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"

You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.

"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"

"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."

She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.

You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"

You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

You turn to look at her.

"What?"

"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"

There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.

"I had my Tethering."

Silence.

She's processing.

"What?!"

"Yeah."

"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"

"It's... complicated."

There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.

"Who is it, babe?"

You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"Bucky."

Her jaw drops.

"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"

"That's the one."

"Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"This is complicated."

"Yeah."

"Aw, babe."

She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.

"Does anyone else know?"

"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."

"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."

"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.

"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."

"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."

"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."

You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.

"Where is he tonight?"

"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."

You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.

"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"

"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You've lost track of exactly where you are.

You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.

The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.

"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.

"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"

Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.

"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"

"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."

"Jesus Christ."

"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.

The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.

"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"

You nod.

"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."

"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.

"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.

"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."

You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.

"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."

You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.

Bucky.

His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.

You're snapped back to reality by Sam.

"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."

"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"

She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.

You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.

You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.

"Hi."

"Hi, honey baby."

You smile softly at the nickname.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a girls night."

He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."

"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."

"Cosmic karma," you whisper.

The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.

"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."

"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."

You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.

"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."

A smile. A pause.

"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."

You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

"Bye, Buck."

"Bye, pretty girl."

You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.

Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.

He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.

A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.

"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."

"Goodbye, honey girl."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.

Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.

Let the happiness seep through.

tag list part one -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff  @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara   @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[storytellingbadger]

Eclipse as he appears in my TSAMS Celestial Phenomena AU. Mind the ratings.

Been around almost as long as Sun in one form or another. This Eclipse commits to his legacy and has the lethality to back it up. Likes to keep his bunkers homey and cosy. Fascinated and repulsed in equal measure by Sun. He used to live in his head. It's complicated.

Celestial Phenomena is a series mostly from Solar's POV, detailing adventures and catastrophes from the light-hearted to peril and plot. Please enjoy.

[givemearmstopraywith]

“The cries of the innocent will haunt us forever if we stay silent.” These are the words of Taoiseach Leo Varadkar, speaking at an event in Boston this week about Israel’s devastating assault on Gaza. And who could disagree? What is taking place in Palestine now is one of the most profound and shocking moral catastrophes of our time.

[stopper-my-heart]

Have you considered the shenanigans happening in between episodes 4 and 5 of season 1 of Heartstopper?

This was Nick and Charlie at the end of episode 4:

Charlie had been panicking that he was behaving in ways that would reveal the secret romantic aspect of their relationship to others and that that would be upsetting to Nick. Nick was beginning to reassure Charlie, or at least to take on the blame for their predicament for himself ("I'm the one who should be saying sorry..."), when Isaac abruptly entered. Isaac then left, but it was too late: Nick beat a hasty retreat and Nick and Charlie's respective guilt was left unresolved.

Jump to where we pick up with Nick and Charlie at the beginning of episode 5:

We have Charlie between-the-lines inviting Nick to his birthday party ("Me and my friends are going bowling, and I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come, but I know you don't really know them so you don't have to."), and Nick enthusiastically accepting almost before Charlie has finished speaking. There are smiles and small touches (and arms pressed together) and fond looks...All seems well in Nick-and-Charlie land.

But why? Or, maybe, how? What happened between that...I don't want to say "catastrophic" but surely unfortunate lack of discussion or closure between them in the infirmary and the cosy happy times in their form group?

This is why I call shenanigans.

Except I think there weren't shenanigans.

Potentially even worse, I think there was wilful ignoring and wishful thinking.

I think both Nick and Charlie are choosing to ignore their issues and act like things are okay, and since the other's acting like things are okay, well, everything's okay then, right?

(No.)

For Charlie's side, I expect Nick's cut-off apology in the infirmary has left him trying to keep in mind that Nick isn't blaming him but probably otherwise very unsteady and out of the loop.

From Nick's point of view, he's likely not yet ready to make any promises to change things, so what good would randomly bringing up his conflicted and difficult feelings do? Besides, maybe Charlie understood what he was trying to get at (Nick can hope).

Not only is this relationship pretty new and feeling tenuous, but relationships in general are new to Nick, and a relationship with someone who cares about him is new to Charlie. They're both insecure and uncertain about how the other feels and what they want (while feeling and wanting a lot themselves, making it extra scary). It's easier not to rock the boat, especially if the other is acting like things are okay.

So where does that leave them? Not in a bad place, but certainly in an unresolved one. Episode 5 shows us more of that and finally brings us some resolution. (Not all, mind you, but some.)

Note that the resolution that episode 5 brings is some of the resolution missing from all the way back at the beginning of episode 4 rather than just at the end of it. Although the kiss in the rain under the umbrella went towards affirming their relationship, it seems like Nick and Charlie never had a conversation about what 'they' are, just that they're keeping 'them' a secret.

(It's reasonable to point out that the infirmary (sort-of) conversation likely happened on a Saturday and the birthday (sort-of) invitation likely happened on the Monday right afterwards, plus for the latter they're in school, so having any sort of bigger discussion in between these events would be challenging.

That said, Nick and Charlie also don't seem to have a bigger conversation during the week between Nick agreeing to go to Charlie's birthday party and the party itself, and they probably could have found time at some point if they'd really wanted to.)

More on episode 5 to come. In the meantime, want a refresher on the infirmary scene?

[creative-frequency]

I would like #98. But with Gale and fem!reader if that is possible 🥰

Hopefully you don't mind some fluffy tressym with your Gale 🥰 Excuse the gif, he looked so good that I couldn't resist.

Gale Dekarios x Reader: Neck Scratches ("I didn’t know you could do that.")

Professor Dekarios stormed out of his office almost as soon as you arrived. He offered only mumbles about ‘another catastrophe’ as he passed you in the doorway and left you with apologies and a plea that you could wait for his return in his office.

Professor Dekarios had been your favourite colleague from the moment he walked into the facility. He was witty, charming and with a lot of hands-on experience from his travels – and the stories to back them up. You absolutely adored it when he trailed off from the subject at hand and began gushing about enchanted spider meat or bargaining with an actual devil. You had some experience under your belt too, but it was nothing compared to him.

Stepping inside the familiar office room, you noticed the professor’s trusty friend. The sharp-eyed tressym stared at you from her spot in the cosy nest by the window. Her wings were tucked against her back, all paws and tail hidden from sight as she loafed in the spot of sunlight.

“Hello, Tara,” you greeted her. “Busy day for professor Dekarios?”

“How rude of him to abandon you here like this,” Tara commented, eyes narrowing, “In the middle of my midday scratches too.”

“I’ve been told I give the best neck scratches in Waterdeep,” you offered and bit your lips together to hide any escaping signs of amusement. Tara might have taken laughter about such a serious matter as an insult.

She pondered for a good while, but the jury turned in your favour: “Very well then, proceed.”

Tara craned her neck slightly. Her fur was really, really soft and you wondered if she possessed some magic to make it so or if Gale aided in taking care of her silky coat. Soon, Tara purred complacently.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Gale commented from the doorway.

You turned to him with an inquiring smile. “Do what?”

“Purr. I didn’t know you could purr. Tara, I mean. Obviously not you,” he laughed nervously, hand flying to the back of his neck as he sought an escape from the embarrassment, “I know you don’t purr. Probably.”

“Best neck scratches in Waterdeep, indeed,” Tara cooed in, beaming at you and throwing a sideways glance at her negligent friend.

“Mm. Remind me to come to you then, the next time I need an itch scratched,” Gale said.

Your cheeks heated but you gave Tara one last scratch, which she accepted graciously, and retorted: “I’d be happy to help with your… itches, Mr. Dekarios.”

Gale made a tiny cough, having realised what he had just said.

“You’re some cat-whisperer, you know that?” He forced out a chuckle, flustered as he walked over to his desk and definitely didn’t meet your amused gaze.

“Ahem.”

“Ah. Tressym-whisperer. Apologies, Tara.”

You could barely hide your smile.

[hwaightme]

Essence

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🍃 pairing: bf!seonghwa x gn!reader 🍃 genre: heart-melting fluff, slight crack, established long-term relationship 🍃 summary: "i love the way that you're designed, love the way we intertwine, still don't need a reason why, you're beautiful and now you're mine" - you're beautiful by the rose 🍃 wordcount: 2.3k 🍃 taglist: at the end 🍃 warnings/tags: half edited half on the wings of hope, hugs kisses and cuddling, heart might hurt because of the love levels, quiet early mornings, rain, tickling, slightly suggestive, corny jokes and slang, dorky and sleepy couple with stars in their eyes, ode to hwa (simping) 🍃 a/n: i hope this provides some comfort <3 you're beautiful, adored, and shine brighter than the stars. notes, reblogs, comments always appreciated. much love!

Clouds of cotton and linen, a feathery warmth under the faint light of the early morning. If there was one word that you could choose to describe the light grey haze that pleasantly suppressed the vibrant colours of the world around you, waiting until you were to blink away the last inklings of sleep, it would be ‘fragile’. Somewhere between dream and reality was this translucent paradise, so easily missed, and yet, if you were to find yourself in it by a stroke of good fortune, you would want it to last forever. A moment suspended on a single shared breath, under a blanket of a lazy dawn. For the first time in a while, time was on your side.

No rush, no catastrophic cycle hurrying to sweep you up into its monstrous arms, carrying you away from your humble comfort. Both by fate and by extensive planning, you had a long weekend to look forward to, and could spend it exactly how you personally wished - the rain assured you of it. The soft pitter patter against the windows, the rooftop, the brick walls that protected you was music to your ears. Thanks to the awning that covered the windows to the left of the bed - on your side of choice, one of them could be left open a sliver, letting the enticing, lulling aroma of petrichor twirl through the air and caress you. A rustling of the leaves - an unforgettable performance by the huddle of trees, the crowns of which were just outside of your apartment. And you had all the time in this fast-moving world to pace yourself and listen, enjoy the sweetest music.

Your body was still drowsy, enjoying the cosiness of the bedsheets - not that you would even dare attempt to move, considering the gentle, loving arm that had crept onto and over you at some point during the night, and the head of its owner resting on your chest, dark tresses occupying your vision as soon as you looked down. Carefully, you moved a strand away from your boyfriend’s face, biting back a foolish grin when his onyx lashes fluttered at the sensation. His hair was getting longer, the observation passed through your mind as you continued to gingerly brush it with your fingers. In silence, you were able to regard change for what it was, and thanked the sun, moon, stars for letting you stay with the same person through them all.

As the raindrops continued falling, so did your absent-minded touches, in part, because you felt your partner hug you even closer, giving you an adorable grunt of approval even in the midst of sleep, but also, because you wanted to make sure that all of this was real. Grounding yourself in the tender embrace, you found peace and clarity. How did your life lead you to this heaven? So many memories intertwined to build to this moment, how many droplets of rain could that equate to? Would it be a lake? A sea? An ocean? Perhaps you would never find an answer, nor did you want to, because this was a trickling timescale you prayed would never halt. You did not notice that your hand had frozen in the air while you were caught up in your thoughts until a deep voice, laden with a befitting somnolent raspiness, led you back.

“Why’d you stop?”

You looked down again to see a mischievous side eye from none other than your boyfriend who, judging by the question, had been awake for some time.

“Good morning, Hwa. Since when is sleeping beauty not sleeping?” you quipped with a smirk, amused by the scrunching of his nose and a shy smile while he shuffled upwards, until his head was level with yours. 

“I’d think you would know when you woke up,” he countered, leaning onto one arm to use his other hand to cup your chin, guiding you closer to him and stopping a mere couple of centimetres away. You inhaled sharply, pretending to be exasperated. 

“No fair, I rizzed you first!”

“And I’m just making observations,” before you could answer, you felt his plush lips capture yours, his victorious smile consuming the whine that left you, “good morning, angel.”

“‘Morning, lovely,” you whispered, gaze taking in his eyes, his nose, his lips, cheeks, eyebrows - every detail that made Seonghwa who he was was priceless to you.

 His bare face, so stunning that no artist could ever fully depict it, but instead they would be contained in an eternal state of inspiration, having found their muse - selfless, starry-eyed, adoring. A universe contained in every expression, the light coating of blush on his cheeks, be it from the intensity of your observation or due to the mere minutes that passed since he had woken up, a perfect shade of love. Seonghwa; to become a star, indeed; he always shined the brightest. In his eyes was a purity unlike any other, both a reflection of his soul and how he perceived the rollercoaster life around him, even the simplest things turning into miracles. Heart to heart, it was easy for you to feel that in every beat was something greater, a blooming wonder. You fell quiet, instead choosing to stretch your arms wide and invite him impossibly close to you, a gesture that earned pure glee from him.

You felt a hand snake under your body, stopping at your side, meeting his other hand that returned to its position on top of you, and pushing you towards him. Breath running over your neck and collarbone, Seonghwa sighed at the warmth and nuzzled closer, peppering a couple of stray kisses over any skin he could reach. Your arm, which ended up serving as a support and rest for your boyfriend, wrapped around him, and you traced abstract shapes on his shoulder, exposed because of the black sleeveless tee he had chosen to wear, foregoing his usual glossy chrome silver attire. It was so natural, how you tilted your head to rest on top of his. How your left hand and his right intertwined, but not before hovering in midair, palm to palm, fingers flush against each other, reminding you of a day some time ago, back when you were not even officially dating but Seonghwa, overtaken by a sudden boldness, though of the endearing and boyish kind, had expressed a pressing curiosity of how the size of your hand compared to his. Now, you were pretty sure the only answer was: just right to be held by him since from that day on, Seonghwa had never really let go. Be it in a stray touch of the elbow, or a brush of the pinkies, or his leg moving to be right against yours, he was always making sure that you would not forget that he was there. Not that you particularly needed the reminders since Seonghwa would either way be at the forefront of your mind, but the closeness was an unimaginable, instant comfort. 

"It's raining," he mumbled, half to himself, tiredly regarding the vista.

"Mhm," you hummed back in agreement, not resisting the temptation to kiss the top of his forehead, making him look up at you, perfect dark orbs that reminded you of a certain brown sugar treat melting away even the smallest hint at a desire to get up.

"...wonder if worms go on dates," he pondered out loud, training his attention back to the maple and beech. You suppressed a snort, never failing to be amused by your boyfriend's unfiltered streams of consciousness, instead squeezing out a response between low chuckles:

"Are you about to ask me if I would still love you if you were a worm?"

"I know you would. You'd be the best worm wife," he shot back, sporting a cheeky grin as he squeezed you tighter. Ignoring how your heart accelerated at his choice of words, planting a seed of curiosity in your mind, you lightly slapped his shoulder.

"Yah, who says?"

"I'd annoy you until you do,"

"Hm… fair, fair," you pretended to consider, "but I won't be able to hug you like this," to prove a point, you curled into him.

“True, and I…” Still keeping a mischievous, enigmatic grin, Seonghwa wriggled out of his position, leaning towards you until you could feel his mouth right by your ear. Involuntarily, a shiver ran over you, making your boyfriend exhale sharply, satisfied. "I doubt I would be able to do this…" he planted a kiss right below your earlobe, and another, trailing downwards. Your flittering on his shoulder turned into a grasp for stability against his unwarranted, albeit alluring forwardness. “Or this,” he continued, using your temporary pliability to twist and tug you towards him until your back hit his broad chest and he could lock his arms around you, “Or-”

“Park Seonghwa, if you dare tickle me right now, I am not to be held resp-”

“Too slow-”

You yelped as you felt your boyfriend’s fingers attack your sides, making you break into a fit of giggles and swat at him, careful to avoid his face. He did not continue for long however, pausing as soon as a yawn disrupted him and instead choosing to embrace you once more and plant one noisy kiss on your cheek, their flushed state igniting an even stronger adoration. He rested his head on his hand with the elbow finding purchase on a white pillow, choosing to allow himself some space for simply acknowledging you.

He always had loving words to say about you - as time went by, he swore that this ability was innate, and that was the only way he could respond to you or describe you, but sometimes, even they fell short of encapsulating the emotional landscape shared, and just how you made him feel. From an ecstatic rush to a divine tranquillity, Seonghwa had found everything with you, and with you, even the biggest challenges turned into tiny setbacks. You balanced each other out. One could offer logic in a sensitive time for another, or provide a space in which to experience the lowest lows with no judgement, only unprecedented empathy. In the same way, both of you were each other's unwavering supporters, always there, always the loudest, always proud. Ready to celebrate success and small joys, be it a major event or an exciting moment in a video game, you simply fit together.

Seonghwa loved the way that you were designed, and the way that you two intertwined. Every day was an opportunity to be better, and he was glad that he could do it with you. In loving you, he found that he started to love himself more too, and it was thanks to this safety of the soul that had been discovered in your unity that he could play games, crack jokes, fully be himself. He noticed that you blossomed too - a freer, happier angel of light to grace this little blue planet, one who, with initial reassurance, had now taken flight and was now living the life that manifested hopes and wishes into a beautiful every day. Both as individuals, and as a couple, you grew to new heights, and that made minutes, hours like this even sweeter.

Now, it was your turn to roll back to spot an enamoured stare. Bashful, despite it having been  quite a number of years since you had felt his gaze like this for the first time, you rolled forwards, trying to hide your face, to which you heard a click of the tongue in response, and a firm hold of your wrist. Seonghwa kept your arm in place, resting his own over your waist, and once certain that you would not block him, tangled his fingers between your own.

Dawn.

Rain.

Time.

Seonghwa’s chest right against your back, his inhale, exhale lulling you back into a daze while the sky’s silver tears continued to transform your neighbourhood into a glimmering paradise. You wanted to be like this forever, snuggled close while in the middle of the storm that marked a transition from a fatigued summer to a chilly autumn. But even then, you knew you would be with your own sunshine.

“Already napping?” he teased, noticing how you had closed your eyes, and were progressively sinking further into your pillow. Not that he was doing something different, having collapsed behind you, disregarding the greenery outside, preferring to inhale the scent of your shampoo and forget the hours that the colour of the sky outside would hint at soon enough.

“Mm…” you were not bothered to give a proper response, nor were you particularly worried about your boyfriend not understanding you. He always did. Just like you understood him when he poked at the leg you were lying on to let him hook onto you - something of a habit, turned tradition, turned necessity. 

Hearts beating in time, connected in mind, body and soul. Like rain, you had fallen for one another, and soon enough, one droplet turned into two, into one thousand, into an ocean that spanned all of your favourite places. Neither of you were afraid of the occasional gloomy day, because as soon as you were to glance at one another, you would see a brightness previously deemed either inaccessible, or downright nonexistent. You relaxed fully into the feeling of Seonghwa’s arms around you. Safe, devoted, just so Seonghwa. He was a name, a noun, a verb, an adjective. Syllables, characters, letters that morphed into the synonym for love, and with every fibre of your being, you hoped would also mean ‘forever’. 

🍃 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk

🍃 untaggable: @burnmepls (could be because of settings)

enjoyed? consider leaving a reblog, i'd love to chat <3

[casualaruanienjoyer]

post war Jeanpiku?

Hello anon! Thank you for requesting something so tasty!😭 I love Jeanpiku. I've not writted Pieck so I hope I can nail it!

Anyway, onwards!!

Sharing a bed

Jean and Pieck bicker often. So often, in fact, that their tents at Fort Salta couldn't be further apart.

It's only been a couple of weeks since the rumbling and things were still looking pretty unstable around Fort Salta. Armin, now commander, was tasked with organizing everything from resources to communication. They would do manual labour during the day, and meetings late in the evenings.

Jean was Armin's right hand, and he was there to support him no matter what. But tonight there is no meeting.

The catastrophic events of the rumbling had affected the weather, making it extremely unpredictable. Today was one of those days.

The rainfall was short but heavy enough to damage some tents. Armin and Muller decided it would be best to sort out the issue during daylight, so everyone was asked to form groups and share some of the intact tents for the night.

This is why, unfortunately, Jean is now stuck between a snoring Connie and a smirking Pieck. His tent never felt this small before. They had to push two makeshift mattresses together to fit the three of them, and even so it was still very much shoulder to shoulder. Fortunately for Jean, Connie fell asleep the moment he hit the mattress. At least he didn't have to deal with him tonight. Unfortunately, he has other problems.

Jean rests on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling of their tent. His back feels stiff and he cannot relax for the life of him.

"Look, don't get too cosy in here, alright?" Jean is uncomfortable. Not that those shitty mattresses were ever comfortable to begin with, but at least before all this he had his own space. -Personal- space. Which is now breached by an intruder.

"Aw but Jean, I'm just trying to relax a bit" Pieck teases him. She's resting on her side, awfully close to him.

"Remind me again WHY you had to pick OUR tent to sleep in?" Jean groaned. "Why couldn't you pick Annie's?"

"She's sharing it with her dad, and his reduced mobility means he needs the extra space" she shifts to rest her head in her palm, elbow digging into her pillow. "Besides, I think we need to work on -us- a bit, you know?"

"What does -that- mean?!" He hisses at her, but keeps his voice low. He really doesn't want to deal with two pricks tonight.

"You know, I feel like you don't really like me. And I want to know why". Pieck's hair cascades over her shoulders, and Jean avoids looking at her visible cleavage.

It's not that he didn't like Pieck. After all these years, Jean still didn't know how to approach girls he had a crush on. Yes, Pieck is, unfortunately, exactly his type. Long, black hair, soft eyes and a nice figure. But unlike Mikasa, who was stoic and level-headed, Pieck was seriously driving him nuts: cunning, mysterious and above all, a seductive devil.

She knew exactly what she was doing every time she teased him around camp and every time she tried to hug him tightly. She's manipulative and Jean has no idea how to deal with women like her.

Every other girl he met in the military had always been very righteous, disciplined, well maybe except for Sasha. Pieck is a mystery to him. An alien.

"You're making it very hard for me to like you, quite frankly" he crosses his arms over his chest, sighing. "There's nothing to talk about, we should sleep."

"Ooor, you could tell me what I could do to make you feel more comfortable around me~". She whispers in a low purr, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"First of all, stop that. You always overdo it" Jean manages to look at her, trying to remain calm. But even in the dark she looks so beautiful that he can't help but blush.

"Overdo what, exactly?"

"Y-your flirting. It's not elegant at all." He mutters, looking back up at the ceiling. It's so much easier to talk when her face isn't a distraction.

Pieck's eyes widen. "Flirting? Me? With you??". But her tone is playful.

"Look, if you want something just tell me. I don't enjoy being teased. And I certainly don't like girls who play with my feelings" he shifts, uncomfortable. Now he's done it.

"Is that what you think of me...?" Pieck whispers, sounding somewhat sad.

"Well, you're confusing, that's for sure." He pauses, measuring his words. "Look...guys like girls that are direct." He sighs. "How am I supposed to know if your flirting is genuine or not-?"

"Kiss me"

Jean blinks. Once, twice. His face reddens.

"What?!"

"You want me to be direct? I can be. So kiss me." She whispers, pointing at her lips.

This can't be real.

"Pieck, I swear, if this is another one of your games-"

"Jean, I know you like me"

Silence. Utter silence. Jean wishes he could disappear.

"W-what makes you think that?!"

"You're not very good at hiding it, you know?" She laughs softly.

Jean closed his eyes, thinking of of all the choices that led to this very moment. All the times he found himself glancing her way. The times where they worked together day and night. The way she made him feel like he was falling in love again. He was already a lost cause, might as well go for it, right? "And what if I do?"

"Then kiss me"

💜This fic is now also on AO3 !

[melit0n]

Delicate Is The Flesh - Prologue

- Synopsis: On the brink of the bustling new city of Rosholt lies a forgotten palisade of abandoned homes, shops and streets that sit mummified after a chemical outbreak in the 70s, leaving the city uninhabitable.

Over the years however, the place has become a hotspot for urban explorers and crime junkies alike. Whispers of reanimated bodies stalking the dead streets and brutal murders worm their way into your friend's ears and, having nothing to do on your Winter break, you reluctantly agree to go exploring the abandoned city with them.

What could go wrong, right?

- Chapters ->

Prologue (You're already here!)

Chapter 1: For Whom the Bell tolls

Chapter 2: Corvus and Krater

Chapter 3: Belly of the Beast

Chapter 4: Something Forgotten

Chapter 5: Citrus and Cinnamon

Chapter 6: Mumbling Conscious

Chapter 7: Heavy is The Head that Mourns The Past

Chapter 8: Be Not Afraid

- Status: Work In Progress.

- Obsessive! Demon OC/Reader

- Word Count (for chp): 3.4k

- Warnings for chp: None.

- Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55444003/chapters/140685856

A ray of light illuminates your inky room.

Bzz bzz. 

It only beams from your phone, innocently charging on your bedside table, but it feels more like a floodlight.

Comfortably, you lie under your covers, feet firmly planted in the land of dreams. In spite of this, being a light sleeper–something picked up somewhere in your late childhood–you’re easily awoken, one foot now stretched, tautly, in reality. Dragged away from whatever dream you were having, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, as if the thin skin would block out the artificial glow of your phone. 

Who even texts this late at night?

Semi-patiently, you wait for the noise–the light–to stop. With each notification, your phone buzzes and hums against the wood of your nightstand, echoing against your four walls like stalactites crashing and falling in a cave. Much to your chagrin, the consistent noise pulls you, like ocean currents, back to the waking scene of your dim room.

Still, you can't bring yourself to move out of your covers. 

Bzz bzz…bzz bzz…

Considering the time, or, at least, what you think to be the time, you guess the culprit would be your friends. It was either them, or every new station and online personality were talking about some catastrophic event that was occurring outside. 

Practically still half asleep, you can’t bring yourself to care much. You were having such a peaceful rest: why did they have to wake you? Blearily, you damn yourself for not turning your phone to silent. 

Even so, as much as you mentally grumble about being awoken, something nags at you. An annoying voice that’s more worried about ‘missing out’ than it is sleeping. Tangled in the arms of Sleep, she whispers–whispers in dulcet tones and soothing words–for you to relent. Relent, ignore, and go back to sleep. 

Turning over, you hide yourself away from the light beneath your sheets.

…Bzz bzz…bzz bzz…

As much as you try to ignore it, the sound reverberates. You know it isn’t that loud, but it's enough to keep you from going back to restful darkness.

…Well, one peak wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Although, the moment you begin to turn again–put in at least some effort–the notifications suddenly cease. Your room quickly returns to its dark, comfortable state. 

Happily, you return to your previous position. And, as you cosy yourself further under the covers, a small, pleased grin graces your face as you slowly drift back into the warm hold of Sleep.

Bzz bzz…bzz bzz…bzz bzz 

But, much to your dismay, the notifications begin once again. 

It sounds as loud as ever. 

“Oh, shut up…” you mumble. You’re half sure it comes out less than words, and more like a scratchy garble grumbled into your warm pillow. Your eyes crack open to stare hazily at the underside of your covers before rubbing your face and closing them again.

Bzz bzz…bzz bzz…bzz bzz

Each damning notification wakes you up further. While you were still mostly hidden from the light–the piercing beams managing to cut through your covers–the noise still got to you. Slowly but surely, you become uncomfortably aware of how warm you are, too. Aware of the sheen of sweat on your face. Aware of the liquid trickling down each notch in your spine. Aware of the way your muscles and bones ache and groan with the odd, twisted position you’ve managed to find yourself in.

“Alright! Okay…fine…” Groaning loudly, you unfurl yourself and turn back towards your phone; grasping fruitlessly at the air next to your bed-stand. With a tired sigh, you accept your fate. Finally, you open your eyes fully, managing to find your illusive phone. The first thing you see are the numbers 2:29am, then, underneath it, a slew of notifications, all from a very familiar group chat named ‘The Loggers’–some stupid name one of you came up with while you were drunk.

With a grimace, you recoil at the blazing light now scorching your eyes and face. Yawning, you frown at the time–just as late in the evening as you expected–and turn down the brightness. Haltingly, you begin attempting to decipher the messages that your half-awake mind can barely compute. 

Tapping on one of the notifications, you’re speedily brought to the group chat, messages still rapidly appearing. Blinking sluggishly, you scroll up and skim-read whatever conversation they had begun. You find that your friends, well, two of them, were obsessing over some abandoned site that they’d ‘found’. By ‘found’, you learn that one of them had just stumbled upon a local monthly news article documenting it, of which had led them down a long-winded spiral of other articles, a somewhat surprisingly abundance of videos and at least four separate threads of it on some random urban exploration forums. You can’t be bothered to properly read through any of them. 

You wouldn’t remember jackshit of it in the morning, anyway. 

Shoulders falling, you realise it was nothing important at all, just another proposed site to add to the ever growing list of ‘places to explore’. You’d been woken up for practically nothing. 

As you’re about to put your phone back down–on silent this time–and attempt to get back to your dearly needed sleep, a message directly addresses you: 

Jeanne: @Y/N @Helen read this;

It’s followed by a long link which, after clicking on it with a tired exhale, you’re half sure may or may not be a virus from the number of pop-up ads crammed into the site. You shuffle yourself upright on your bed, back cracking with the movement. Carefully, you eye the small text on the newsletter, reading:

On the brink of the bustling new city of Rosholt lies a forgotten palisade of abandoned homes, shops and streets that sit almost mummified after being deserted for so many years.

Neuhaven, a rebuilt mining town founded in the 1950s, sits unoccupied after a factory break out of, at the time, unknown, harmful toxins released into the air that made it uninhabitable for human and animal life alike on the 11th of June, 1972. Researchers noted that the toxins caused irreversible harm to the human respiratory system, leading to almost plague-like symptoms including coughing up blood, extreme drowsiness, bluish discoloration on the fingertips, as well as auditory and visual hallucinations…

Below the paragraph lies a series of photographs, some in colour–washed with a recognisable reddish seventies hue that makes it look like a distant memory–and others edited into black and white for effect. Your eyes graze over CT scans of blackened lungs, grainy images of hands with missing fingers and photos of bedridden children. It felt like the stuff they’d show in flashes on the news–swift mentions of some foreign war–that they would never mention again. 

Scrolling further, you’re greeted with more disturbing photos. Instead of limbs, organs, and sheet-hidden children, its faces. Faces with eyes that have no eyelids that stare dead into the camera. 

It’s the definition of a thousand-yard stare. Even through the pixels of your phone, you can see the utter terror and grief somehow contained inside their bloodshot pupils. 

In short terms, it’s horrifying. All caused by a leak of some chemical. 

A drop of sweat rolls down your back.

...Unfortunately, the town's residents were not informed of the harmful chemical breakout as it had occurred, partially due to the plant’s manager attempting to cover up the detrimental mistake. The full extent of the damage done only became fully clear when many of the aforementioned citizens became chronically ill, exhibiting signs of mental hysteria. Continuous hallucinations, paired with a debilitating illness no one seemed to be able to figure out the cause of, led many of the people of the town to believe that this plague was a punishment from God. Or, perhaps, something more malevolent. 

Now more awake, you gradually began to understand why your friends were intrigued. They’ve always had an interest in the morbid and macabre, you were no different. All of you grew up practically inhaling creepypastas, off-putting ARGs and gory LiveLeak videos like they were Oxygen. It was safe to say you were all desensitised. 

At least, to an extent. 

Still, your mind can’t help but draw you back to those photos. The ones with the missing eyelids. While you could recognise the intrigue in a large abandoned site, you couldn't grasp why they would be so fascinated by a place scourged by a man-made plague.  

It seemed less of an abandoned city and more of a mass cemetery. 

Growing unnerved by the town’s nightmarish history, you scroll down further into the newsletter, hoping to skip any more grisly photos. 

After the official closing of the town in late June of the same year, the old town quickly became a hotspot for violent crime and drug dealings.

Oh.

Bodies of missing persons from across the country found their way down the river that flows between Rosholt and Newhaven, almost like souls travelling down the river Styx, along with what morticians noted as ‘perfectly preserved’ corpses appearing and disappearing in the series of apartment blocks that Neuhaven houses and is, to this date, now most famous for.

Brilliant. Not worrying or terrifying at all. 

However, in recent years, it has become a hub for urban explorers and true crime junkies alike. As well as this, the old town has begun to gain traction across social media because of its supposed ghost sightings. 

At the word ‘ghost’, you perk up, shifting further upright in your bed. The covers rustle loudly in the light silence of your room.

Popular Urban Exploration videos turn into ghost-hunting documentaries that garner thousands of views. Despite this, many people believe that the ‘ghost’ sightings are simply hallucinations from leftover chemicals. Although, multiple studies of the area’s air, soil and aquifers by the local council in worries of this show no anomalies to suggest such a thing. 

Further, the few that are caught on camera are thought to be a result of electromagnetic waves coming from the radiation plant that provides power to Rosholt, possibly causing issues with the recording gear used.

Or, quite simply, many videos are believed to be faked: edited. They still make their rounds on social media all the same. 

Even with its recent boom of popularity, the city lies cornered off to the public most months due to continued police investigation over drug dealing, as well as by order of the aforementioned local council due to plans to further expand Rosholt and demolish Neuhaven. 

Nonetheless, people still find a way to get in.

Another notification hangs over the top of your phone screen. Having seemingly finished the article–no more photos covering your screen–you tap on it, only to see one of your friends sending links to miscellaneous videos. All have similar thumbnails with titles in all caps along the lines of ‘Ghost caught on camera!’ or ‘Dead body found!’. 

For the sake of your sanity, you go against watching any of them. 

Jeanne: Thoughts @Y/N @Helen? We’re on break and we need something to do

Helen: It looks fun, but the drug dealing, dead bodies and the whole ‘being patrolled by the local council and police’ is a bit of a no-go for me. Has Noah already said yes?

Noah: Yeahh, it looks interesting from what I’ve seen. It isn’t every day you get the chance to see an abandoned city anyways. Plus, I’d rather Jeanne didn’t go alone and get done in by cops again lmao

Jeanne is typing…

Jeanne: Id be just fine on myself asshat <3

She sends a quick-fire response to Noah’s ‘insult’, before returning to trying to convince Helen to join them again.

Jeanne: @Helen I get u, but when are we ever gonna be able to explore a whole abandoned city? Even if we only do so many buildings per night

Helen: There are so many other abandoned towns that are not patrolled by half a city’s police force. Besides, didn’t one of the other articles mention that the town was exposed to radiation from a leak at the power plant in the nearby city too? Getting radiated so I can not go out in the sun ever again is putting me off a bit.

Like usual, Helen is careful and rational. And, like usual, you agree with her.

Someone sends over a video–a screen-recorded one instead of a lengthy link–that shows a man walking around what you assume to be the town of interest. Looking closer, you spot something in his hand, bobbing in and out of the shot with his footsteps. Quickly, you realise it’s a very damaged Geiger counter.

He mumbles something you can’t hear. You don’t bother to turn the sound up.

From what you can see, not a single bit of ‘dangerous’ radiation was being picked up; nothing over the typical twenty counts per minute.

Noah: That fix your worries? Lololol

Helen: It is still picking up something?

Noah: I know I help you out with Science, but were you MIA when we did radiation or something? That’s just natural radiation, same amount you probably give off

Helen: Is that meant to be an insult? Lol.

Noah: No?? Of course not

Jeanne: @Y/N, what do u think? Stop looming over the convo Batman I can see ure online

Shit. You completely forgot they could see that.

For a few minutes, you go back and forth trying to type a digestible response that didn’t sound too crude. Or didn’t look like you keyboard smashed, for that matter. While you do so, you tiredly contemplate if you really do want to go see an abandoned town and run the risk of getting some sort of chemical poisoning, let alone seeing a corpse. Or, even worse, get tied up in watching someone become one. 

You: Looks cool, but the dead body thing definitely isn’t. Plus, if people are talking about there still being chemicals in the air, I’d rather not take the chance on getting whatever the fuck those people back in the 70s got

Helen: Thank you.

Jeanne: U two are such pussies!

“Jeeze, thanks…” you mumble, rolling your eyes. 

Jeanne: U know how articles like that like to blow stuff out of proportion. And anyways that stuff with all the dead bodies was ages ago, nothings happened for years

You frown at the response. Dead bodies are still dead bodies, even if they did appear years ago.

You: I’m still not too on board with walking around in what is basically a massive grave site

Noah: It’s only an hour and a half’s road trip away, closer than anything like Pripyat or Pentedattilo, and they said they plan to demolish it soon as well

He sends another lengthy article with the cut-off title of ‘Rosholt’s expansion plans for…’ that you don't bother to click on.

Jeanne: by the time our break has ended that shit might be gone and we’d never be able to explore it. And its so fucking close to us as well!! Would be a shame if we didnt get to see it

You scoff. Your break was only two weeks long, so you’re sure that an entire city wouldn’t disappear in that time. At the most, they’d probably just increase security around it.

A few seconds of silence permeate the group chat.

Helen is typing…

Helen: I still don’t know about this.

You take another moment to think it over, staring at the wall opposite you in bleary contemplation. Admittedly, your plans for the break had consisted of sleeping, bingeing films, rotting in bed and maybe going out to see a movie if anything interesting came out. That, or going shopping if one of your friends tried hard enough to convince you. 

Your group had been going urban exploring ever since you had, well, become a group. Jeanne had started young, easily dragging you into her shenanigans; Helen and Noah followed along. If you were honest, you were half sure it was only because it’s one of the few meetups you’d almost always easily agree to, but either way, it was your ‘thing’, so to speak. Abandoned malls, broken down farmhouses, dilapidated chapels; anything you could explore, you had been there. 

However, an abandoned town was new. Even with the threat of dead bodies and chemical poisoning, you were, quite frankly, intrigued. Maybe your friends would even let you off having to go somewhere with them for the rest of the break if you did this with them.

Don’t get it wrong, you didn’t hate your friends, not in the slightest; why would you stick around people you hated? Quite simply, you just weren’t one for extensive social interaction, especially when it meant leaving the comfort of your apartment. Your friend Jeanne called you a homebody for it, Noah called you a ‘shut in with unaddressed social interaction issues’, which, way to hit you in the gut, and your other friend, Helen, simply called you reserved. 

So, maybe, going here could get them off your back for a bit.

You: What date are you thinking?

Jeanne: I was thinking tomorrow? That sound good for everyone?

Another message is quickly sent.

Jeanne: I mean later today lmao, didnt realise it was that late, everyone good w/ that?

You let out a tired sigh. No rest for the wicked, you suppose.

Noah: Good 4 me

Jeanne: Nice! Helen?

Helen: I think I will be sitting this one out.

Jeanne: come onnnnn we gotta do it with the whole group! Won’t be the same without uuuu

A few seconds pass with radio silence from Helen, and you watch with an odd amount of anticipation as the words ‘Helen is typing…’ disappear and reappear on your screen.

Helen: Fine.

Jeanne: WOOOOO

Noah: YESSSS

Smiling widely at your friend's reactions, and typing a response of your own, you put your focus back on the date. Tomorrow. You glance over at your alarm clock; 2:50am. Tomorrow as in…today. Tomorrow as in today, where you’ve been woken up at half two in the morning after getting only a few hours of sleep. Like a balloon, you feel your whole body deflate at the thought of having to spend part of your afternoon, and most likely all of your evening, in this abandoned town while running on a few hours of sleep...with one of the most energetic extroverts you've ever met; Jeanne. 

You: Can we do it any other day? How about next week?

Noah: My brother and I are going on holiday with our parents after this week. We’ll be gone for the rest of the break :’((

Damn it.

Helen: I am sorry; I have to go back and forth to school for final coursework. I do not know when I’ll be completely free other than tomorrow and the day after that.

Jeanne: So it’s set, tomorrow yeah? That good with everyone?

Helen: Yes.

Noah: Yup

Sighing dramatically, you type out your answer.

You: Okay :D

A few more images pop up on your screen. You don’t bother to read them. Glancing yet again at your clock with a groan, and looking back at your phone for some sort of sleepy confirmation, you pray they don’t decade they want to go at the crack of dawn. Unlike you, your friends were all morning people. Noah was a night owl who could run on three hours of sleep, down a shot of caffeine, wake up at five thirty and spend the rest of his day fine. Helen naturally woke up early, body still half stuck in a different time-zone, and Jeanne liked having every minute of sunlight that she possibly could.

You, on the other hand, suffered through never having just enough sleep: encouraged partly by insomnia and partly by a mind that refused to let go of the past, nightmares tending to follow you into the depths of sleep each night.

Plus, you certainly didn’t have the money for a psychiatrist to prescribe you melatonin, let alone the prescription itself. The sleep tests you went to never gave them enough to prescribe you anything anyway. 

With a parting glare at your alarm clock, you gently turn your phone onto silent and place it back to charge on your nightstand. 

Plans can wait; you’re too damn tired for all this. Two weeks off from school promised you at least a better chance at getting a full eight hours of sleep, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get it. 

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you wrap yourself back into a warm blanket cocoon, already knowing you’ll regret how warm and sweaty you’ll be by the morning, and steadily fall back into the wisp-like arms of sleep. Hopefully, with no nightmares. 

In the least, you’ve now got one official plan for Winter break. And hey, what could go wrong, right? 

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

This one has been a long time in the making! I remember saying in one of my other oneshots that this would be out by February; look where we are now lmao. Even so, I'm really excited for this! 

Also, for anyone confused with the reader's gender, they are completely gender neutral. Like with most of my oneshots, I've worked this so there is the least amount of references to gender and pronouns as possible, so, in the end, the reader can be easily applicable as male or female as well. 

I apologise for the long A/N, and I hope you enjoy reading <33

[romilly-jay]

COSY CATASTROPHE: A glimpse at the WIP...

Finding ways to process this existential threat was central to my doctoral thesis, Working Through Climate Grief (2021), and floats in the background of my WIP, although it is never directly a plot point.

Nevertheless, the sense of unfolding crisis permeates; it is a hot core to my work, with no single story or simple resolution.

Jane Alison has a name for this kind of structure in her creative writing craft book, Meander, Spiral, Explode (2019). She calls it a radial or explosion structure; radial, in the sense of petals around the centre of a flower, and explosion like the flares of solar plasma being expelled from the burning heart of the sun.

Alison’s example text is Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Chronicle of a Death Foretold:

We know from the first paragraph that it will happen but then circle around and around it, near and far, until finally striking the bloody centre. This could have been a linear narrative. Why start at the central moment and circle around it for 100 pages? Because the killing isn’t the point, of course; what matters are the omissions and consequences (Alison, 2019, p. 169-70).

Underlying the rising and falling action of the mechanics of the plot, my WIP novel has a pervasive ambivalence, which is driven by awareness of lurking dangers on both small and large scale.

I believe and hope that I’ve created a satisfying, morally nuanced world that my readers* can enjoy discovering.

Part of writing this story against a backdrop of dramatic, turbulent events includes not making light of the background deaths (except in one instance where the reader is invited to find this unacceptable) and not allowing the main characters to behave as if the background disaster never happened – at least, not all the time.

The result is cosy-ish rather than cosy.

[*I'm choosing to believe they do and will exist...]

References

§Alison J. (2019) Meander, spiral, explode: design and pattern in narrative. New York: Catapult.

§Marquez , G. G. (2014) Chronicle of a death foretold. Translated from the Spanish by G. Rabassa. Reissue edn. London: Penguin. (First published in 1981.)

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from EcoWatch:

In a historic win for a group of small island nations — including the Bahamas, Antigua and Barbuda — the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea (ITLOS) has found that human-produced greenhouse gas emissions absorbed by the world’s oceans are considered marine pollution.

In its first ruling related to climate, the tribunal — a United Nations maritime law court — advised that countries are obligated to safeguard marine environments by doing more than is required by the 2015 Paris Agreement, reported Reuters. Many small island nations are threatened by rising sea levels due to global heating.

“As the legal guardian of the Ocean Treaty, ITLOS has taken a critical first step in recognising that what small island nations have been fighting for at the COP negotiations for decades is already a part of international law,” said professor Payam Akhavan, the legal representative of the Commission of Small Island States on Climate Change and International Law (COSIS), as Euronews Green reported. “The major polluters must prevent catastrophic harm to small island nations, and if they fail to do so, they must compensate for loss and damage.”

COSIS — a group of nine small island nations in the Caribbean and Pacific Ocean that are threatened by sea-level rise — requested the opinion of ITLOS.

Though the decision is an “advisory opinion,” it should provide precedent for future cases.

“What happened today was that the law and science met together in this tribunal, and both won,” said Cheryl Bazard, European Union of the Bahamas ambassador, as reported by Reuters.

In its opinion, ITLOS said nations must monitor and reduce emissions and specified what their environmental impact assessments need to contain.

The court also said goals for reducing greenhouse gas emissions are required to be objectively set and based on relevant international standards and rules, as well as the best available science — a higher standard than the Paris Agreement.

“To those that would hide behind the weaknesses of international climate treaties, this opinion makes clear that compliance with the Paris Agreement alone is not enough,” said Nikki Reisch, Centre for International Environmental Law director, as Reuters reported.

[mcufan72]

Cold winter days, a lonely woman on a bench, a stranger in the park...

An Encounter in Winter ❄️

Loki and female reader

Chapter 15

Chapter 14

18+/adult themes/talking/flirting/slow burn/ fluff/angst/smut

Warnings: implied smut, some sweet soft smut, doubt and self-doubt, some answers and new questions

"Are you sure you don't know that person, Snowflake?"

"Yeah, I couldn't even figure out if it's a man or a woman… I'm just glad the girl is back in her dad's or mum's arms," and you watched them leaving the park.

"Snowflake, I'm truly concerned…what if someone tries to harm you?"

"Lo, why should someone want that?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Please, stop dramatizing it, Lo. Maybe that person thought they knew me and just wanted to find out if it was like this or not. And I stick to "not". I'm sure it was just a case of mistaken identity. Let's go back to the hotel, Lo. I'd like to spend a cosy last evening with you."

You wrapped your arm around his waist, buried your hand in the back pocket of his stone-grey tight-fitting jeans and Loki slung his arm around your shoulder. He loved that you wore your sleeveless flower dress today so his fingers could touch and caress your bare skin. Loki took a deep breath and looked sceptically at you. He wasn't sure what to think about this whole situation. He didn't want this wonderful free time and these holidays to end but now he just wanted to bring you back home safely. Tomorrow you two would be on your flight back home to New York and somehow he was glad about it.

"You've been so sweet with the little girl. It seemed she liked you."

"If you say so… and yes, she was a cutie, and she seemed curious and… impressed?"

"She definitely liked the fireworks you had conjured for her, Lo …I liked them too," you said softly.

"Mmhhhh, I can conjure other fireworks for you, my love," he purred like an amorous tomcat and nudged his nose against your cheek.

"I'd love that, baby," you giggled.

"If we ever decide to have children, I just want to have them with you, Lo. You'll definitely be a good dad."

You turned your head towards him and his soft gaze met yours.

"Do you still think that? You can't know that. Maybe I won't be a good dad," he answered with sad eyes.

"Do you think I'd be a good mum?" you asked him demandingly.

"You'll be the best mum in the nine realms and you…what?"

You couldn't stop chuckling.

"How can you know that Lo baby?" you questioned him, a big grin on your face.

"Okay, okay, I'm already quiet but… sometimes my insecurities make an appearance again. Sorry, my love."

"Don't be, Lo. You have me now to make them disappear again," and you pecked a gentle kiss on his cheek, a shy smile curving his mouth.

It seems you were a better magician than him because you always did the right things for him and made him immediately feel better again.

"That little girl reminds me of my sister."

"How come and why?" He asked you bewildered.

"When we were children and out on the playground or a little trip she tended to run away to more exciting places. She…didn't really run away, I always knew where she was. For us, it was fun and just a game but for our mother, it had been a catastrophe… every single time," you laughed.

"You had been very naughty girls, you and your sister. Scaring your mum to death was not nice, Snowflake," he stated with a teasing undertone.

"Says the god of mischief," you teased him back playfully, " and…Had been? I'm still naughty, Sir…but nowadays only for you," you said chirping and with your hand, you gave his ass cheek a firm squeeze.

"And I appreciate it, my Lady," he hummed in response and kissed your lips promisingly.

Once back in the hotel he would want you underneath him as soon as possible and fuck the naughtiness out of you. Would his addiction to you ever get less? Hopefully not …and he felt how your heartbeat quickened in sheer anticipation.

"When we're back home, we will try to find your sister, okay? I haven't forgotten the promise I gave you. You still miss her, don't you?"

"Sure, I do." you said thoughtfully. "I hope we find her, Lo."

"We will, I'm sure, my love," and he kissed you tenderly.

"Please don't you ever run away again! I was scared, honeybee. You must stay with me, I can't lose my baby!"

"I didn't run away, I wanted to see the fairies and…and…I needed to see if they live between the yellow rose petals," the little girl tried to explain her excursion.

"There are no fairies, my little honeybee and you can't run away from the playground without coming to me first and telling me that you want to go somewhere else, okay?"

"I'm sorry…I'll never do it again, I promise," she said quietly and her voice was full of guilt.

"It's alright, honeybee I'm just glad that nothing happened to you and that I have you back… did you talk to the woman? And what about the man who knelt in front of you? I saw it from afar when I was looking for you."

"I didn't talk to them, I know I mustn't talk to strangers. The woman was nice and soooo pretty, her name was y/n and the man was a wizard!"

"Honeybee, there are no wizards…"

"He.Was.A.Wizard! And his name was…was…his name was Loki," she pouted and crossed her small arms.

"I've told you too many fairy tales, I guess."

"He was a wizard and sooo nice to me. He made funny lights and sparkles in his palm… the pink ones I liked the most!"

"Oh, honeybee you have way too much imagination. What was the woman's name again?"

"Her name was Y/n."

"Uh hm …come, let's hit home, honeybee."

"Can I have pancakes for dinner?"

"Of course, honeybee, we make pancakes for dinner."

"Yes yes, pancakes," she cheered, clapping her hands. "And he was a wizard," she whispered to herself.

When you were back at the hotel you two got quickly rid of your clothes. Loki carried you to the bed, never loosening his grip around your waist and giving you demanding kisses. He laid you down into the cushions with him on top of you, your hands roaming over the toned muscles of his back. You felt his veiny pulsating cock sliding into your dripping wet cunt and you enjoyed his weight on you and the feeling of his soft skin on yours. Loki gave you slow and deep strokes and held your hand the whole time. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and you told him again and again how much you loved him.

He made the sweetest, deepest love to you and it didn't take you long to cum around his throbbing length. Loki insisted on making you orgasm one more time before he wanted to find his release in the velvety warmth of your cunt which convulsed about his cock. When his passion overtook him he spent his seed deep inside you, with a low moan until you were dripping. As much as he loved rough sex, the slow lovemaking made him always feel safe and content. And this time he felt so close to you.

Tonight his incredible tenderness and how he looked into your eyes while making sweet love to you, made you cry. He kissed your tears away and after many more love confessions, you took a shower together and had a last dinner at the hotel's restaurant. Later, when you both went to bed again, you snuggled into him and before you fell asleep in each other's arms, you made a decision. Never before have you been more convinced.

Back in New York, day-to-day life had you two in its claws again, sooner than you had expected. Bruce and you had so much work to do in the lab, intensive biological and theoretical studies and tons of paperwork. In this case, it means all of your research results had to be fed to the computer files and systems. Loki and the other Avengers had to go on new missions, shorter ones and longer ones and Loki's and your wonderful holiday slowly faded into a beautiful memory.

One afternoon, when the Avengers were on a new mission again, you took a break from work to have a cup of tea and met Jane in the compound's kitchen. You two have become friends since she lived here too. Things between her and Thor have become more serious and so she decided to move in with Thor. The fact that Jane and you got along with each other well was also a blessing for Loki and Thor. The two brothers were closer together than ever before and both appreciated it.

You hadn't had much time talking to each other since you and Loki had returned from the holidays so you were happy to meet her now and have a little chit-chat with her. You also had a feeling there was some news she wanted to tell you because a few days ago you had spotted a ring on her left hand.

"Hey, Jane, so good to see you!"

"Hey, y/n, it feels like it has been ages since we last met, right?"

"Yeah, I've been so busy since we returned. I'm already stressed again," you laughed and you two hugged each other.

"How are you doing?" you asked her, pouring some tea in a mug. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Oh, yes please. I don't feel well today."

"Why? What happened, dear?"

"I miss Thor," she answered sadly.

"Oh, yes I understand … I miss Loki terribly."

"I have gotta feeling that something has happened to them…"

For a short moment, you leaned back at the kitchen counter, closed your eyes, and listened to your heartbeat. It was strong, steady, and calm. And there was something like a second voice or a bass line in a choir; strong, steady, and calm…Loki's heartbeat. You opened your eyes again and smiled at her. With teary eyes, Jane looked quizzically at you.

"They're alright Jane, Thor is fine, " you told her calmly.

"How do you know that?"

"I can feel it," you explained.

"You can feel it? What can you feel? I mean, … how?"

"I'm bonded with Loki and somehow I…I just can feel it when I listen to my heart. It's just there."

"Wow, that's awesome. Are you… are you already immortal like him and like Thor?"

"No. Are you?"

"No, neither. I'm still unsure…"

"But…you're engaged already, aren't you?" and you smiled brightly at her and pointed to the ring on the ring finger of her left hand. It was a wonderful brightly shining ruby and diamond ring. "Congratulations!"

"Ohhh, yesss…thank you. We're very happy."

"And I'm happy for you two, dear! I hope it was a romantic day when Thor proposed to you."

"Very romantic, as romantic as Thor can be but yes, he was cute and extremely nervous. The ring fell on the floor twice before he placed it on my finger. He was so afraid I could refuse him," Jane said and giggled with reddened cheeks.

"What about you and Loki? When did he propose to you in Norway? Ohh it must've been so romantic …"

"He didn't propose to me, neither in Norway nor in London," you said quietly and looked at her with questioningly raised eyebrows.

"Oh, aahhmm it's just… Thor meant…"

"What did Thor mean?"

"Oh..nothing, sweetie, nothing. Forget it, forget my question. I'm sorry…"

With a frowning forehead, you questioned yourself if there was something she knew and you didn't. Did Loki want to propose to you in Norway and if so, why didn't he do it? Everything seemed fine during the vacation and you were convinced that you had done nothing wrong. You wouldn't get an answer right now. It seemed you just had to wait until Loki came back. And a proposal or not, nothing could change your deep love for him. Maybe you were a bit disappointed right now but you still loved your pretty alien King.

Jane was slightly irritated and maybe she should've kept her big mouth shut but she clearly remembered what Thor had told her. He recited what Loki said to him before you and Loki headed to Norway:

'This gorgeous woman, who owns my heart, deserves a very special marriage proposal and a wonderful wedding.'

Maybe they shouldn't have assumed Loki would ask you in Norway to marry him. But it seemed to be the perfect place to do it.

"I'm really sorry, y/n. I should've kept my mouth shut."

"Don't worry, Jane. Everything is fine," and you smiled reassuringly at her.

"Did you ever think about eating Idun's apple, y/n?"

"No, never because this is not my path to get the same kind of immortality as Loki."

"It's not?"

"No. As you know Loki isn't Asgardian by birth so I have to do it the Jotun way."

"And… What is the Jotun way?" she asked curiously.

"We're already bonded and we're already one body, one soul and one heartbeat. The last step is to become one blood."

"Wow. Are you afraid of doing it? I mean, it's such a big step, a life-changing decision."

"I'm not afraid of it, I just thought about if there would be something I had to abandon because of my then prolonged life span… but I don't have a family anymore, I just have Loki and my love for him is endless… and then finally it was an easy decision to make."

"Yeah, that makes sense, I've the same thoughts as you… we would have each other then, you and I gossiping forever and ever," she said and you two laughed in unison.

"Wouldn't that be great?" You asked her.

"Absolutely fantastic!" Jane agreed with you.

"Just take your time, Jane. Speak with Thor about it again…and everything will be fine."

After some more chit-chat and exchanging some more of the newest gossip, you returned to the lab. The day's work still wasn't done yet.

A few days later you had the opportunity to take the afternoon off. First of all, you strolled through the park and after that you sat on your and Loki's bench for a while, watching the people and the scenery. It was late summer already and the beginning of autumn was near. Some leaves of the trees were already slowly changing their colours and you looked forward to cosy autumn afternoons. You would sit together with your lover in front of the crackling fireplace and hold each other's hands or you would sit on the sofa, snuggled up into each other under his fluffy black blanket, you and Loki preferably naked, while drinking hot chocolate.

Loki, the love of your life, owner of your heart. You sighed heavily while you thought of him and felt how much you loved and missed him right now. Soon he would be back from the mission and you could hardly wait for him to take you in his strong arms again. You missed his kisses and touches, his scent, his voice, you missed talking to him and cuddling him and of course, you missed the feeling of him buried deep inside of you and his soft skin on yours, his moans and sighs when you caressed him and scratched his scalp, twirling the curls of his black mane around your fingers.

You craved endlessly for him, it almost caused physical pain. You were sad and a bit disappointed when Pepper told you yesterday that she got a message from the team that they would need two more days because of a special mission they were asked to take care of before they could return to New York. You knew that something like this could happen at any time but still, you just wanted Loki to come back to you as soon as possible.

And Loki knew how much you missed him because he missed you terribly as well. He had problems falling asleep without you in his arms. He missed the warmth of your beautiful body, your soft skin on his. He missed spooning you the whole night and the deep and funny conversations you often have before falling asleep. He missed your gaze at him, your plump lips on his, your hands buried in his hair, tugging lovingly at it. He craved you desperately and he wanted nothing more than to return to you as soon as possible. But this special mission was extremely important and he truly pitied that he had to make you wait for him for two more days.

He had recorded a voice mail for you and Pepper had sent it to your phone. You inserted your earphones and listened to his message for the umpteenth time now but his deep smooth and calming voice eased your desperate wait for him.

"Hello, my love, my pretty Snowflake, my precious Queen. Do you miss me? When this message reaches you, you are probably asleep by now. I can tell you, it's not easy for me to fall asleep without you in my arms and I can't wait for the day when you sling your arms around me again. To have you not by my side is torture…and you've no idea what naughty things I'll do to you when I'm back… can't tell you more right now, too many curious listeners around me and what I want to tell you is destined for your ears only. I miss you, darling, I miss you terribly and I can't wait to see your face and your beautiful smile again. Think of me, my love, never forget to stroll daily through the park and sit on our bench. Think of me then, dream of me like I dream of you. Don't forget me, my love, and promise me that you eat and drink properly every day! And trust me I'll recognise it if you don't! Take good care of yourself my sweet darling and wait for me. I'm back soon, I promise. I love you, Snowflake."

A smile curved your lips and you pressed your phone to your chest. He had no idea how much his message comforted you. Before you headed back to Stark Tower you visited your favourite bookstore. You haven't been there for a long time now and today you wanted to have a look at some newly published novels and crime stories. You also wanted to buy a small gift for Loki, maybe a book about myths and legends in ancient times. You weren't sure but you would find something for him. Also, you felt the need to talk to him as soon as possible.

After the conversation with Jane, you had been absolutely sure about your final decision. You wanted to be his blood, you wanted eternity together with him. You wanted to ask him to bring you to Jotunheim so you could have the ritual and after that, you would be completely and irreversibly his and he would be yours, united in this unique bonding he had created with you. You already had a considerable number of books stored in your arms while you still strolled through the bookstore. The staple of books in one arm, you flipped through a book for vintage style for apartments when you felt someone standing behind you. Before you could think further if you maybe blocked someone's way, the person addressed you.

"I finally found you!"

You turned around, jumped and all the books you had stored on your arm, fell rumbling to the floor. Your face went pale and you felt the person's hand grabbing your forearm and you saw the tattoo that adorned the hand. You looked upwards into the person's eyes and you couldn't believe whose eyes they were.

"Josephine!" You said, hoarsely and shocked and you stared into your sister's face, which you hadn't seen for nearly two years now.

🫢🫢🫢🫢🥲🫢🫢🫢🫢🥲🫢🫢🫢🫢🥲🫢🫢

Taglist:

@lokisprettygirl @wheredafandomat @anukulee @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @lokixryss @smolvenger @lovingchoices14 @huntress-artemiss @obscureenigmatic

[i-did-not-mean-to]

MAY-U - Ori x OC

Ah, a bit of self-indulgent nonsense!

Characters: Ori x OC

Prompts: Bookshop - Chiropractor - Librarian - Two things can be true at the same time

Words: 2 200

Warnings: FTM character, slight nudity, massages, innuendo

“Say, Charlie,” Fíli looked up from his beer with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Would you do me a favour?”

Charlotte, who only loathed her family’s nickname more than her actual, official name, narrowed her deep green eyes in instinctive suspicion before cocking her head inquisitively. “You can always ask. I still owe you one for letting me use your body for my anatomy study.”

“Abuse, you mean?” Fíli cackled and punched her shoulder playfully.

She’d known the young man for years and usually trusted him fully, but she’d witnessed the catastrophic consequences of his present facial expression once too often not to be wary of his next words.

“I’ve got this friend,” he started in his most melodious and persuasive voice, lifting his strong hands to nip her protest in the bud. “He’s been studying hard to become a librarian, and all these hours hunched over heavy books have left him with a sore neck.”

When she merely stared at him in wordless outrage, he chuckled. “He’s working in the little bookshop by the campus, and I’m sure he could get you a discount on that absurdly weighty tome of technical literature you’ve been eyeing!”

This gave Charlie pause; she’d been in that establishment more than once, but she couldn’t recall ever spotting a conspicuous hunchback on the premises. Then again, she was not actively paying attention to people when there were so many interesting and desirable books around.

“I’m a medical professional, not a masseuse,” she finally muttered. “And I’m not even licensed yet—I can’t go treating people willy-nilly.”

“Oh no,” Fíli exclaimed triumphantly. “This would be strictly non-professional. Really, it would be unethical of me to suggest otherwise.”

“So, he’s hot,” Charlie grunted as soon as she realised she’d blindly run right into the trap her friend had set for her without so much as earnestly trying to dissimulate it.

With a charming grin, Fíli shrugged. “Couldn’t say—I’m not into men. I don’t think there’s anything really wrong with him, so there is no need for you to deploy all your professional skills. See? No ethical dilemma—it’s just a little favour amongst friends.”

“That man—what’s his name?—is not my friend, though,” Charlie protested weakly, thinking of the book she desired so passionately and could not possibly afford.

“His name is Ori, and he could become your friend. I’ll tell him you’ll swing by—I’ll even throw in a pizza for the both of you to enjoy once the deep tissue massage is over.”

“You should have become a salesman,” Charlie grumbled but reluctantly agreed to present herself in the cosy bookshop the following day.

“You’re the best. I promise you won’t regret it,” Fíli cheered, pressed a resounding kiss onto her cheek, and sauntered out of the small pub without paying his tab.

Ori kept glancing at the door as if he expected Death personified to stroll in at any moment.

Ever since Fíli had ambushed him at closing time the previous day, he’d been in a state of high alert that did nothing for his already painfully tense neck and shoulder muscles.

Toying with a bookmark absent-mindedly, the future librarian wondered whether all Fíli’s friends were de facto worried whenever he declared that he had an “idea”. At first, the promise of a free massage had sounded too good to be true—Ori knew that he was in desperate need of a bit of relaxation—but, only too soon, that fleeting sense of nascent ease had dissolved in a surge of paralysing panic.

“Did you tell your friend…You know…?” he’d squeaked, dreading whatever answer Fíli could have given.

“I’ve told Charlie that it would not be a professional chiropractor session, so there was no ethical dilemma impeding the obtainment of a license in the future,” Fíli had grinned. “Just a little kneading between friends!”

“You know exactly what I mean! What did you say about me?”

“Nothing! I want it to be a surprise. We’re friends, after all, and all my friends deserve good things!”

“I am not a good thing!” Ori had exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air helplessly.

“To Charlie, you will be. Now shut up and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!”

The mere insinuation that he was being ungrateful had had a chilling effect on Ori, and so, he had simply done as he’d been told and kept his mouth shut.

Only 10 more minutes until closing time, he now thought nervously as his eyes flew to the clock once more. Maybe, that mysterious friend would not show up after all. No doubt, Fíli’s college buddies had better things to do than to go dispensing much-needed healing interventions—free of charge moreover—to random bookworms they’d never met.

And then, the bell over the door jingled and a young woman strode in, her curly hair tousled by the wind and her round cheeks flushed with colour.

Ori’s heart sank.

“Oh Fíli, you ass,” she cursed under her breath as she approached the counter with unwavering determination.

Ori, who’d always felt so safe behind the solid wood, all of a sudden couldn’t shake the sensation of being woefully exposed on the small dais, akin to a sacrificial lamb about to meet its bloody demise.

“You must be Ori,” she said in lieu of a proper greeting. “How come I’ve never seen you around? Surely, I should have…”

“You’re a girl,” Ori replied sheepishly. “Fíli didn’t say…He let me believe…”

“Righto!” She threw her head back and laughed, wishing Fíli to hell for playing wicked games with his so-called friends’ emotions. “I’m Charlie, and I’ve been told that you needed a neck massage.”

“Charlie,” Ori replied softly, the wheels in his head clicking softly into place. He knew her—of course, he did.

The small, curvy woman had come in several times in the last few weeks to look at one specific book, and he’d often wondered whether he should simply offer to use his employee discount for her to purchase it. Ori knew they’d never sell the blasted thing at full price anyway; it was much too expensive and heavy, and the internet had made it patently obsolete.

“Do you want the book?” he asked as if he’d not heard or processed her very clear explanation for her presence in the shop.

“No, well yes, but not now…You’re almost off, aren’t you? Do you live far? I don’t think that you’d want to do this at your workplace, would you?” Charlie bit her lip nervously, blinking rapidly when Ori only stared at her, dumbfounded, instead of answering.

"Very close, actually. I have…I rent the flat upstairs, so…Do you really want to do that?”

No, Charlie thought, but she’d given her word to Fíli, and she was not the kind of woman to flake even if she was aware that she’d been tricked mercilessly. She’d not grant her friend the satisfaction of having cowed her so easily!

Ori, as she had secretly suspected, was exactly her type—pale and doe-eyed, he had the elfin charm of a porcelain doll and hair shimmering in all the shades of a midnight bonfire.

Few were the people who knew that Charlotte, her parents’ perfect princess, was both astoundingly indiscriminate when it came to the gender of her partners and laughably partial to gingers.

Fíli, of course, was one of those rare chosen ones who were all too aware of that particular proclivity of hers, and a part of her resented him ferociously for having hidden away a rare beauty like Ori all this time.

“Better late than never,” she muttered to herself as she watched Ori lock the register hastily and turn down the lights.

From his reduced range of motion and frequent wincing, she could deduce that Fíli had indeed been right in his layman’s diagnosis, and her professional pride was awakened at once.

Even though they all agreed that it would be better for her not to deploy any overly technical manoeuvres, she couldn’t help but think that a proper deep tissue massage would do wonders for the poor wretch.

“You know that for this to work, you’ll need to relax sooner or later, right?” she teased gently when Ori gestured at the small, squeaking door leading to the backroom jerkily.

The small “hmph” sound that escaped her host as he climbed the rickety stairs stiffly ahead of her made her smile instinctively, and she impetuously vowed that she’d make him unwind at all costs.

His flat turned out to be so small that they walked through the door and right into his crowded living room, and Charlie breathed in the warm, dusty air greedily as if she could learn more about the enthralling tenant through mere inhalation.

“Erm, do you need anything?” Ori asked, kneading his fingers fitfully as he tried to push a pair of worn sneakers under the couch with his heel. “A drink or…”

“A flat surface,” Charlie replied calmly. “If possible one that is accessible from every side…and a lemonade, if you have one.”

She’d only added the last part to give him the illusion of control, and she suppressed another grin when he dashed into the adjoining kitchen right away.

Oh yes, Fíli would definitely pay for this!

Listening to the clinking of glassware and the thump of a fridge door being opened and closed, Charlie assessed the cramped living room. If she half-converted the rickety sofa bed, she could push aside the coffee table and walk around the furniture with ease…she had to keep herself distracted, lest she dwell too long and too intensely on the endearingly wavering smile or the deep, dark eyes of her unwitting host.

“Here we are,” Ori spoke behind her and handed her a promotional glass with another heart-wrenching smile that made her shiver with joyful anticipation of she knew not what exactly. “I can give you every discount in the system for the book; I’m sure we can bring it down to an almost reasonable price!”

He was sweet, Charlie realised, and that alone made her all but forget about the blasted volume of wisdom, slumbering in the fragrant darkness downstairs.

“Let me earn it,” she purred, feeling for her bag across the mutilated couch. “Why don’t you take off your sweatshirt? You’re not allergic to arnica or mint, right?”

Ori shook his head but didn’t undress.

“There is something you need to know,” he murmured, visibly ill at ease. “Fíli should have told you, really, but…”

Beneath his wispy beard, his face filled with colour, and Charlie gripped her bag tighter to keep her hands from reaching out to dip her fingers into that entrancing pool of blossoming pink.

She nodded encouragingly.

“I was not…My biological sex does not correspond to my gender identity,” he said firmly, belying the tension in his shoulders and the quiver in his lower lip. “But I am a man!”

“Two things can be true at the same time,” Charlie replied in her most professional tone. “As it is, I might also need a towel, please. I will not ask you to take off any more than your sweatshirt if you’re not comfortable with that, but I need to have access to your shoulders. We usually cover the chest area of people with breasts.”

“Oh, they’re not worth the hassle,” Ori chuckled nervously. “So, I just wanted you to know…in case that changes things for you.”

“Other than me asking for a towel, not really. Why would it?” Charlie was genuinely confused. “Right. You’re only here as a favour to Fíli…I didn’t mean to imply anything improper…I’m sorry!”

“You’re cute,” Charlie interrupted his self-conscious waffling resolutely. “Fíli knew precisely what he was doing.”

She grabbed him by the shoulders, digging her fingers into the tense muscle tentatively, and looked him in the eye. “It changes nothing. Now, let’s start before I forget myself!”

Her breathy confession seemed to embolden Ori considerably, for he tore off his woollen sweater in one fluid motion and tossed it aside.

“Sports bra! Sensible choice!” Charlie praised and motioned at the cleared sofa bed. “Lay down please.”

On account of her previous act of unsanctioned vandalism, she now could comfortably crouch over him for the first part of the massage and thus managed to apply enough pressure to work out the knots of compounded tension progressively.

“You should watch your posture!” Charlie muttered as she got up and walked around the piece of furniture to stand over her softly moaning new friend.

“Will you come back if I don’t?” he asked dreamily.

“I’ll come back if you ask me back,” she replied immediately. “I’d rather not see you in pain, though. Now close your eyes and enjoy!”

No matter what she’d said before, she had to admit that she was thoroughly enjoying this, and—even though her hands grew tired—she wished that this moment would never end.

“Charlie,” Ori whispered then. “As this is in no way a professional intervention, I can take off the bra, if…”

“Yes,” she said with unmistakable fervour, relieved that her unshakeable sense of professional ethics would not be compromised by whatever happened next. “Please!”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the next one for May!

Lots of love from me!

[exoticalmonde]

Arknights Chapter XIII - The Whirlpool That Is Passion (Part I)

GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY AND I WISH ALL THOSE WHO WISH TO BE HOEDERER/VENDELA/VERDANT OWNERS TO BE HAVERS BECAUSE IT'S A WONDERFUL DAY AND I AM SO OVERDUE WITH WRITING THIS ACTUALLY!!!!

WARNING: This post is going to contain a lot of yapping from me about Hoederer and how much I love him and would also have a LOT of spoilers.

I am also a great yume-shipper, so my Dr. and Hoederer are married, that information should help with the weird comments sometimes.

Might make it different parts because all those SS will never fit even up to the part I am right now.

Perhaps first of all I need to mention how the pulling went? Apart from my day being catastrophically long and arduous, I managed to sneak some snacking in-between the one additional hour I had left after returning home.

I was actually shaking. Jittering out of my bones, near-heart attack type of activity was happening on my side of the screen while everybody else watched. I was supposed to take SS of every 10-pull but... I got ahead of myself. I think I had around 130 pulls, excluding the ones that I could buy from the ticket shop and the Originium that I blew for a skin.

I even kind of... Skipped my first Hoederer. The one below is the second one, that I ended my funds for, until I could buy the level 60 pack from the shop.

But we caught the third one.

And as it happens I was underprepared with money and XP cards, though I had all the materials for his skills. Bless the green tickets for allowing me to bulk-buy some of them actually since... My god farming for the RMA70-12 is tedious, fruitless and sad.

If I could get a penny for every single time this loser was being problematic I would have enough to buy them and never have problems again.

In any case, he could be immediately E1 lvl80d, and I have been grinding enough to get him to E2 on the same day. He's currently lvl60, cooking his M3 on S1 with Wishlash giving him a thumbs up every time he pulls out a whole boiled chicken to eat.

Starved Sarkaz, am I right?

Even his little token that you get when he joins you another time... I am actually crying, I love him so much and I am so happy he became playable.

Speaking of, did anybody know that the furniture set is separated into a couple other, smaller sets, or was I supposed to learn this from googling it myself?

Apparently, the whole set is called Mercenaries' Hideout, but the smaller sections of it are:

Writing Is Meaningless

Don't Ever Truly Rest

Secondhand Goods

Maintain Your Health

And I am sitting here, tears in my eyes reading their descriptions... When I first remembered that Chapter 13 was coming with a new set I almost screamed. Dr. Pinkie was making fun of me for calling this jail cell basically the same epithets you would use for a five-star hotel, but it really was close to my heart the way it mixed compact with DIY/'Hey, you'll never guess what I found on the street' kind of interior.

And because it is based around Hoederer, we are going to look through it first and read the descriptions before I actually descend into the story.

Description of the full set reads:

A recreation of a hideout in Kazdel, based on Hoederer's description and a number of additional details provided by Ines. As for anything not recreated from their recollections, it's best not to touch—Anything added by W might just blow up.

I love to imagine that these three have to share a dorm and the Doctor just goes up to Ines and Hoederer and asks if there is anything they can do to make it cosy or somehow homey. Also to think that both of them would have recollections of these 'hideouts' in Kazdel... Meanwhile, W seems like she's never been in those? My memory is kind of fuzzy about just how old the three are in comparison to each other.

Before/After Kazdel is pretty much like Before/After Eve was on the internet.

Basement Flooring:

Flooring that recreates the vibes of the basement where the mercenaries lived back in Kazdel. Ines sometimes muses that the place would be more suitable as a small shop. The two both ignored W's suggestion to sell potatoes there.

Basement Wallpaper:

Wallpaper that recreates the look of the basement where the mercenaries lived back in Kazdel. The gray walls look almost exactly the same as before. This time, when they look out the window, it is not the dust-covered Kazdel that they see.

'Our Current State'

A light tube is attached to a frame haphazardly welded together from multiple iron plates, letting out a warm glow despite its appearance. No matter how unstable it may seem, its light can carry the mercenaries through the dark night.

Somehow this little light contraption is 10000x better than any glaring white LED lightbulb that you could ever introduce to me these days.

Rust-colored Rug

A rug showing signs of age that look almost like rust. For some reason, this makes it blend in with the room's style. Is there a color that better reflects life in Kazdel? At least it's not blood-colored.

WHAT IF I JUST EXPLODE IN TEARS???!!!!????!!!!!

Writing Work Desk

A desk piled with books and documents. There are clear traces of manual craftsmanship. Few of the Sarkaz publications sitting on the desk are actually written in the Sarkaz language.

Hoederer's writing desk, I love him so much. The place he might be writing down the different things he wants to be telling to his class, because you KNOW I will absolutely be filing for sponsorship to get him those books and songs he might want to use. Pull in other Sarkaz on the ship to help. Not sure who I have who could be specifically from Kazdel times, but we will find them for you sweetie.

Intel Organizer

A must-have document pegboard for mercenaries, usually used to confirm target information and locations prior to missions. The photographs are always taken down whenever their owner returns. Yet sometimes, their owner never returns.

... I think I am actually going to die from sadness and we have not even started the chapter yet.

Storage Steel Pipe

A rack welded together from steel pipes and plates, normally used to hang clothes and hats. "How many times do I have to say this? Do not hang your work aprons here!"

I don't know who is speaking but the 'work apron' looks like it's Hoederer's and if I have to assume it's probably Ines who is scolding him about it. Little rebel, does it anyways.

Mercenaries' Bed

A flatbed trolley turned sofa bed. The fabric has frayed, but it is indeed soft and roomy. The broken wheel hubs ensure that it stays in place. For a very long time, this was the only place where the nights were not plagued by nightmares.

Imagine being on your trolley sofa-bed and suddenly RI begins moving because there is an emergency and your silly wheels go squeak-squeak towards the other end of the room at the same speed at which you were sitting still because everything else is moving but the bed is trying to stay at the same spot---

Me: "Do we know how fast RI moves?" Pinkie: "As fast as Czernobog can move towards Lungmen. It has to be fast enough to outrun a tornado." Me: "OH. Alright. Yeah, that makes sense."

"No Overloading"

Originally an exquisite wooden hanging lamp that lets out a warm glow. There are always knickknacks piled on top. It has a warning placed above: "No stacking!" Hoederer asked Ines, "Is this really something we can use?" Ines answered, "Yes."

IS THAT A PHOTO???? IS THAT??? WHAT ARE THEY???? Books???

Simple Study Ceiling Light

A part that the mercenaries removed from who-knows-what and hung from the ceiling. It started glowing, and not only is it very bright, it's also very hot. Ines asked Hoederer, "Is this really something we can use?" Hoederer answered, "Yes."

Hoederer, sweetie, I think if Ines gets to ask 'Can we use this safely?' then perhaps we might not have to use a random fire stick someone found somewhere.

Portable Stove

A stove that's portable, easy to assemble. What's on it likely belongs to a certain dangerous individual. Do not touch. "Oh, the paper in the stove? I ran out of fuel. By the way, Hoederer, you hungry? I cooked some potatoes over there."

YEAH? WITH HIS BOOKS, DIDNT YOU W???

"Versatility"

A bookshelf put together from multiple recycled materials. The lamp at the top was brought back by Ines. She said it was to make it easier to see shadows. The box at the foot of the shelf is full of historical studies.

Yeah, I too need a dowry chest full of books to feel satisfied.

Secondhand File Cabinet

A heavy steel file cabinet containing the historical data of each Sarkaz clan. Today, even the names of many of the clans documented within are indecipherable.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[memyselfandtheemperor]

Darth Vader might have bad parenting skills with Luke and Leia, but his parenting skills are good with Sand

Maybe… I like to think as this doggo thing as a crash course on how to look after something else besides himself, before he meets Luke and all. Also, he gets Sand as an older Vader, if he was younger it would probably be more of a mess.

Thinking it through you are probably right. If Anakin didn’t turn…I imagine his parenting skills being catastrophic at best.

I picture Padmé being like: yes, lets rise our kids on my house by the lake, a safe, cosy place and Anakin agreeing just to take them on a dangerous jedi mission the next second XD