#could definitely go on longer and say other things. i love media a normal amount

[butmemostly]

Your post already made a lot of valuable points that I don’t think I can add anything new. But thank you so much bc I agree 100% with your post on why sprace in the newsies circle makes me uncomfortable as well. Personally I’m not a huge Sprace fan myself but the way the characters are stripped of so much personality/individual traits for the sake of shipping and then in turn sexualized in order to make content, esp considered it’s towards their musical counterparts is. Not great to say the least. I’m sure that the sexualization is unfortunately in part because there’s generations of not great content of some aged some fics to back up the trends, but personally I can’t find a lot of interest in the ship just because of how lackluster Race or Spot are written due being pushed into generalized troupes. This is a lot of rambling, I just want to say you’re so in the right and also very good analysis.

YO thanks for the message!! glad to hear that my post reached some people. i was kind of neutral on sprace for a while, i mostly found it amusing that it existed in general yk? but especially after watching the movie, which i feel gives a lot more character to both of them (spot especially) as well as actual basis for the ship, i've grown a lot more fond of it. and having only watched the movie like, a week ago for the first time?, it's just really made me realize how sprace content clearly rooted in the musical depictions of the characters is just so... bland and sexualized. it feels like Nothing. listen, i loveeee btc and tommy bracco as much as the next guy i really do, but i'm at the point where i see art of them as sprace and im like. ive had enough of this guy meme. i love livesies and have been feeding off of only the stage show for 5 years but the longer i go after having seen the movie the more annoyed i am at livesies' watering down of some of the characters. i could write a whole essay on that alone so i won't do that right here at 1 am. but despite fanon purposefully blurring the lines between depictions of newsies (which i'm definitely a fan of), i find it so hard to feel anything about musical!sprace anymore. like at this point it just feels like fandom made up a couple of twinks to do gay together. like who are these people. i want that twink obliterated‼️

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 16 [final chapter] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): talk of past drug use and withdrawal symptoms.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 15

[love renée but fuck am i getting sick of this gif. been looking at it for sixteen goshdarned chapters. finally i am freed.]

You woke up first. Naturally. Every time, every single morning that you'd had sleepovers, you'd been the first to wake up. The sun was shining through the blinds in a pleasant, warm yellow tone. Still morning but not unreasonably early.

You shifted to a more upright position, looking down at the girl still snoozing, whose hand was holding onto your forearm. She was all sprawled out, starfished as much as one could be on a couch. Her body was taking up the shorter end of the L-shape, one knee curled up towards her body, just barely on the couch, while the other stretched well beyond the end of the divan. You were situated much the same, except the other way around. You laid on the longer end so that your heads had almost met in the corner.

Her arms reached out towards you, one around your pillow and the other holding onto you. You knew you'd fallen asleep with much more distance between you, but you couldn't say you minded her having drifted.

Did you, though? You sighed and grumbled as you got up. Might as well do something while you contemplated reality, or something. Mrs George had insisted on some classic American breakfast ingredients, such as bacon and pancake mix. You didn't feel like causing a fire hazard, so pancakes were a no-go, at least for now. Eggs and bacon you could do.

What did you even, like, want? Realistically, actually, no, unrealistically what did you want? There was no sense in trying to make your base wants and desires realistic because at that point was any of that yours anymore? Likely not.

You wanted nights spent with Regina, talking and eating take-out, laughing until your tummy hurt and looking at her glowing in the blue light of whatever Adult Swim show was on at the time. You wanted grocery trips with Mrs George and to go to Kylie's games. You wanted people at school to just, simply not be jerks. You wanted Janis to find peace. You wanted Cady to wake up.

You wanted yesterday to not have happened. You wanted Thanksgiving dinner at the Georges' to never have happened. You wanted for your dad to be different, for Mr George to be different. You wanted your mom to not have died.

Looking at the bacon sizzling in the pan, you chewed on your lips and thought about that. You wanted many things. So many things, mostly for things to not have happened or to have happened differently. It was all wildly unrealistic. You were not a wizard, a time-traveller, or some other mystic being. You were a teenager.

You cracked the eggs into the mix. God, it smelled divine. You pulled a salt and pepper shaker from the spice rack and sprinkled a reasonable amount on there. You groaned out loud and threw your head back when you remembered there was sriracha in the fridge. Mrs George had seen you eyeing the bottle and had not taken a no for an answer, despite your abundant protestations.

"Spare your kitchen utensils the horror and go masturbate in your room like a normal person!" Regina hollered from the living room.

"Oh! Spatula! Harder! Harder!" You cried, moaning like you were receiving the blowie of your life. "If you want breakfast you're gonna have to witness this sordid affair." You called back, giggling. You leaned back from the stove, bending back at the waist. Regina was leaning her chin on the armrest, still more or less sprawled on your couch. There was a pout on her lips and a light flush to her cheeks.

"I'll show you sordid, nerd." She grouched before getting up. You straightened your posture, turning back to the stove, and probed the eggs in the pan with the spatula with a satisfied grin on your face.

You wanted this and more, above all. Was that something you were allowed to want? More importantly, was that something you were allowed to ask for?

Regina came up behind you, hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You didn't jump, much, which you were proud of.

"Looks yummy." She pointed out.

You hummed in agreement. "Can you put toast in the toaster?"

"Sure."

Then, as if no time at all passed, you were sitting down. Then eating and chatting. There was toast, eggs and bacon, and you'd made yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Mrs George had splurged on some blueberries and local honey. Regina refused to make eye contact when you were chewing, citing that your O-face was hard to look at. You only moaned louder and made more faces at her.

Then, just as you were heading to the couch to digest the meal as god intended, lying down, Regina yanked you to the foyer. Still in your jammies and everything, she insisted you bundle up and go for that walk she was talking about yesterday.

You'd hoped she would've forgotten. Sure, the weather was nice for once but if you didn't have to go outside then why would you? It was below freezing!

Much like her mother, she would not budge. You were going on a walk.

"What am I? A dog?" You muttered as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

"If you were a dog, you'd be a... A Doberman." She was already dressed. It was odd for your roles to have switched like this. Usually, you were the one waiting for her to get ready. She had on a thick, white parka and a cute beanie. She also had on black leggings sure to insulate absolutely nothing and bulky, also black, fur boots.

"What? 'Cause I'm big and scary?" You preened at that, smiling widely.

"Nope." She tilted her head, examining you. "Gloves."

"Geez, okay, mom." You grabbed some mittens from the hat rack. "Why Doberman?"

"They wouldn't look so scary if they didn't have their ears clipped, y'know?" She said. You just looked at her weirdly, not catching her meaning. Your ears were not clipped. "Anyway, let's go."

"Aye aye," With that, you were out of the door.

You walked the block and down to the street. The sidewalk stopped so you went by the side of the road. She was walking ahead of you. It was cold out but not too windy, so it didn't feel so bad.

The sidewalk started again eventually. There, you walked side by side. You were just looking at a bird perched on a wire when you felt her grab your hand. Thinking she had something to say, you turned to look at her. She was still facing forward, the other hand in her pocket, walking along. She was just holding your hand.

Oh. Oh. She was holding your hand. Out in public. Not a lot of people were out at this hour, not even cars since it was a weekend. There was a woman with a stroller. A psychopathic man out on a jog. A dog walker. Still, it was outside where anyone who walked by could see.

You arrived at the park, hands clasped together. You stopped by a bench.

"I don't think we should sit." You said, observing the coating of snow piled on top.

"Let's go over there." Regina pointed to a tree a little ways away.

You went obediently, following the tug of her hand in yours. She was holding your hand. You felt all warm in your chest, like you were full of warm water.

You stopped by the tree. She looked around, trying to spot if anybody was nearby. Then, like she had a secret to tell you, she motioned for you to bend down closer. You did. Her hand squeezed at your fingers as the other came up to your neck, pulling you down the rest of the way.

The warmth you'd felt became hot, like an oil fire erupting in the foil-covered saucepan that was your heart, kernels and half-popped popcorn sputtering out as she kissed you. Your eyes just barely got to shutter closed before she pulled away. Instinctively, your body so starved of affection and touch, you chased her and found her lips again.

She smiled against your mouth. It felt like a secret of the utmost importance being shared, like a pinkie finger wrapped around your own in the corner of the room during a sleepover, giggled promises and childish adoration. She tasted vaguely like breakfast, and maybe egg-breath should've been nasty, but it wasn't.

Cold seeping in, the anxious feeling like you were soon going to be caught taking hold, you pulled away. You didn't lean away entirely, crowding her against the tree. When you'd gotten so close, pinned her, you weren't sure.

"Do..." What were you supposed to say post-kiss? "Do you like it sloppy?"

"What?" Her brows furrowed and the smile on her face turned sharper. What to say post-kiss: Not That.

"Uh, I mean, I just- uh..." You swallowed. "I don't know how to, like, I don't have technique. I dunno. Was that good? I saw Aaron was doing it differently..."

Regina rolled her eyes, head thumping lightly against the tree as her neck lolled back. "You would bring up Aaron now." She sighed. "It's fine. It's- it's good."

"Okay." You swallowed again. A slow smile crept up to your face. "It was good?"

"Ugh, yes, shut up." She shoved you away, but you just allowed the momentum to swing you back to her. "I... I don't think I'm good at words."

You chuckled at that. "No, you're not." She glared. You shrugged. "But, hey, you know me. I'm Chatty Kathy."

"No," She huffed through her nose, seemingly in frustration. "I wish I could say to you what I mean. What I feel. But I just... It's... It's not supposed to be but it's embarrassing."

Looking at her, hunched in on herself like a girl her age was supposed to be at times, so different from how she was most of the time, made your chest feel tight. You figured a person having been raised like she was, having turned out the way she had, would find being vulnerable uncomfortable. Or, as she said it, embarrassing.

Then again, it wasn't your place nor your duty to psycho-analyze her.

"Reg, I..." You hesitated. "I'm tired of, like, sitting in the passenger seat while you bulldoze everyone. I'm tired of feeling like if I do something you don't like you'll push me under too." You pulled away from her, hands getting sore from leaning your weight against the rough bark. "And then there's this whole thing." You gestured around you at the empty park. "Even if we were the best couple ever in terms of, I dunno, vibes or something, we're still..."

"Lesbians." She finished for you. "I'm a lesbian, Jorts." A sentence you never thought you'd hear from Regina George. "I know. For me, it felt justified for a long time, keeping them in their place, but since we started talking again, doing all that stuff just started to seem... Unimportant. And stupid." She fiddled with her fingers, eyes glued to the space between you. "It hasn't gone away. I still want to, I guess, hurt people because it does make me feel better even if it's, like, fucked up. But I want something else more than I want that."

"What's that?" You couldn't help but ask, hope stuck in your throat. Choking hazard.

"You, obviously." She said it so flippantly as if those words didn't just send your heart into the Milky Way. "I want you. I'll stop doing that stuff for you. I know we can't be out yet, but I... I have good grades."

You looked at her, puzzled. She huffed and continued. "I'll go to college. Major in, uh, I dunno, some sorta politics and I'll change the law. Maybe a law degree would work better for that, actually." She seemed to think about it for a moment before returning to her point. "Whichever one would be best in getting gay marriage legalized."

"You..." You had to laugh at that, disbelieving as well as delighted. "You're gonna change the world for me?"

"If that's what it takes." She said, determination shining so bright it made your eyes water.

"Wow, okay." You licked your lips, trying to will the stupid grin off your face. You had some important questions still. "If I moved away, would you still stop?"

She paused at that. Took a moment to really look at you, like she hadn't considered that to be a real possibility.

"Yes." She sounded so sure you believed her. "I just don't have... What it takes anymore. I guess. I don't know if there's something wrong with me that I... I want to be mean, sometimes. It's funny. For me." She glanced down and then looked somewhere over your shoulder. "It took a lot of work to get to what Regina George is now. I don't want to put in all that next year."

"Y'know what they say. New year, new me." You quipped, looking down at her. You were quite sure your pupils had morphed into heart shapes, despite your valiant efforts to have this meaningful conversation without seeming like a love-drunk idiot.

(She kissed you. You kissed her. It was a beautiful morning, you were on a walk and you'd held hands and then you'd kissed under a barren willow tree. It was the first day of Christmas break and you were spending it with Regina George.)

"Does that mean I can be a raging bitch till January 1st?" She asked, eyebrow notching.

You laughed. "Only if you..." You bit your bottom lip, getting nervous. "Only if I get a kiss for every mean thing you say."

"Deal." She offered her hand to you, a cheesy smile on her face.

You pulled your glove off and spit on your hand, then made to take hers.

"Ew! That's disgusting!" She flinched away from you, violently shoving herself back against the tree. "Don't- no! Not near me! Don't touch me with that!"

She bolted and you ran after her, cackling maniacally. You waved your spat-on hand at her as you chased her around the park, her shrieking and you laughing.

"I'm serious, J!" She looked at you over her shoulder as she ran. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running away from me!"

"You're just gonna smear your spit on me, you- you fiend!"

"Pinky swear I won't!"

"I won't pinky-swear with your disgusting paws, you-"

With a yelp, Regina tripped over something, probably a root, and fell to the ground. You, having been closing in on her, put the brakes on, windmilled your arms, and tried to stop, but soon followed her into the snow.

"Ouf!" The breath wooshed out of her as you fell on her. She wheezed as you rolled off of her, half-heartedly punching in your direction. You giggled and dodged to the best of your ability, not even minding the snow seeping through your pyjama pants.

Giving some time for her to recover, you laid on your back and looked up at the sky. Clear blue with some thick, greyish clouds looming in the peripheral, morning was turning to day fast. Soon, the park would surely get some more traffic. Kids and their adults, mostly. There was a sizeable play area in the centre. You were pretty much on the outskirts of the park.

It was a familiar spot. You and the guys used to meet your other friends here all the time. Those times it'd been night, too dark to see the faces of the guys with big gym bags, filled to bursting with little plastic baggies and glass bottles.

You turned your head to look at her once her breathing had quieted down.

"You bitch," She hissed at you, the usual venom in her voice gone, replaced by exhaustion. You could only smile, somewhat sheepish but mostly just happy.

"It'd be a lot harder to resist if we were still in school, y'know." You said, turning back to watch the sky. "You can't change the law until we graduate. Until then, we're stuck here. And then, let's say you do change the law and it's passed, it's gonna take some time for people to accept that."

"Yeah," Regina agreed, folding her arms under her chin to lean on.

"And you can say that you'll change a hundred times easily, but actually doing it is different."

"When did you get so wise?"

"When I was all alone for years and did some stupid stuff."

"Like what?" You could tell she wouldn't be expecting what you said next. Even you weren't expecting it.

"You know how I sell drugs and alcohol, right? Where do you think I get the stuff from? I got to know some people while we weren't talking." You sighed. Remembering those times, the worst of them, still so fresh despite it having been years, wasn't nice. "Vandalism, underage drinking, shoplifting, driving without a licence... Did some harder drugs than weed... Stupid shit. I stopped most of it when I got caught the last time and almost went to juvie. Dad got me out, somehow. Probably threw money at people."

You turned your head to look at Regina. She was already paying keen attention to you. "I told my mandated therapist I was gonna change. I said I wasn't going to ever do anything like that ever again. I lied, of course."

"When did you actually stop, then?" She asked.

"Months after the mandated therapy was over." You put your hands in your pockets, getting cold. "I wanted to do it before then. I wanted to just, not be that. A druggie fifteen-year-old spraypainting some dilapidated trailer, hanging around guys that were way too old to be hanging around me. I didn't want to be that but at the same time being anything else was terrifying. I don't think highly of myself, but that was low even for me. Then, Mrs George found me one time."

"Mom?" The question was more out of shock than actual inquiry.

"Yeah." You blinked a couple of times. "I was in a bad state. Withdrawals. I made her promise she wouldn't tell my dad if I allowed her to take me home. She was talking the whole ride from downtown to mine, trying to keep me awake. I just lost it. I don't remember what I said or exactly what I did, but she had to pull over and restrain me." You gulped. "It was awful. Then she offered that I could mow your lawn for some money. I used it the first couple of times to get a new dose. She used to ask what I'd be spending it on and those times I had some bullshit excuse, but the first time I said I was probably gonna get some McDonalds', she cried. Cried real actual tears." You didn't feel like looking at Regina, but you could feel her eyes on the side of your head. "After that it just... It wasn't worth it."

"You never told me." Regina breathed out, still sounding shocked.

"I didn't want to." You turned onto your side, body facing her. "I was- am ashamed."

You didn't feel shame now, though. You undoubtedly would later, tomorrow perhaps, but not now. You were glad for it. You regretted it, wished you hadn't gone down that road, but lying there in the cold snow there was only indifference. That had happened. You had done that.

"Me too." She whispered. "Obviously, it's not the same, but-"

"I know what you mean. And it could be more similar than you think. Quitting an addiction is hard, but I wouldn't say quitting a behaviour is easy."

"It's stupid to compare drug addiction to being a bitch." Regina huffed, a frown on her face. "It's incomparable."

"Well, then let's not compare. Both can be hard in their own way without diminishing the other. What I'm trying to point out is that," You thought for a moment. "We're both trying to get over a bad, toxic habit that feels safe and good and like the only option, without seeing the merit or the other supposedly better option first. It's scary."

"Are you still trying to get over it?"

"I haven't been on drugs since, no. But it's not something that goes away. Not ever."

"And you're still kinda in it." She said, remembering your hustle around the school.

"Yeah. I can't expect you to be all buddy-buddy with everybody suddenly. That'd be hypocritical."

"So what do we do?"

What a question. One that you did not have the answer to. You didn't feel unsettled by the confusion. You hadn't told anyone of your dark past (gosh, could you be any more emo?) since those that knew had just kind of stumbled across it, so telling somebody felt... Good. You'd just sort of blurted it all out without thinking about it too much.

"Can we go back home? I wanna..." You stopped, realizing I wanna make out with you on the couch sounded awfully crude.

A lecherous grin spread Regina's cheeks. "Oh, I see. You just want me for my body."

"No!" You denied, indignant. "I would never."

"You would never want me for my body." She reiterated, purposefully misconstruing what you said. "Wow. Just wow."

"Regina, c'mon, I just mean..."

"Say what you were gonna say." She rolled away and up, towering above you with a twinkling smile pointed down at your prone body.

"Let's just go," You said and tried to get up. Like some bondage dominatrix, she pushed you back down with a shoe on your chest.

You hated how that sort of got to you. Your heart beat faster against her Ugg. Hopefully, she didn't feel it through the thick sole.

"Nuh-uh. Say it."

"I... I wanna make..." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "I wanna go home and make out with you on the couch."

"Oh, that wasn't so hard, now was it, baby? Let's go."

It was only once you'd made it back, chucked your wet clothes into the hamper, and spent a considerable amount of time in liplock, that either of you thought to circle back.

"Hey," Regina said, adjusting her weight to not be leaning on you so heavily. Your lips smacked apart and, gosh, now you were the gross ones. "I just now realized,"

"What are you realizing while you're supposed to be kissing me?" You pouted, falling onto your side and away from her. Your hand went over your eyes like you were a swooning maiden. Regina just patted your leg in mock consolation.

"You have your drug thing-" Only she would refer to your past addiction as your drug thing. "but I was, like, the only one doing anything actually wrong. Actively. You know what I mean." You craned your neck to look at her. Your double chin was probably epic.

"I lied to you by omission. I was really mean to you on Thanksgiving."

"Okay, lying by omission was bad and never do that again," She paused, waiting for you to affirm. You nodded solemnly. "But you were only mean after I was mean first. So, both forgiven. Anyway, I'm talking, like... I don't know how to say it."

You blinked. You didn't know what she meant so you couldn't really help. Regina huffed, nails scratching absent-mindedly on your calves.

"You made it sound like we were both wrong for how things exploded." She eventually said. "That was all me."

"I shouldn't have been such a doormat. I let you walk all over me and I never said anything about how I really felt."

"I don't think you can be in the wrong for that."

"I think I can be. At least the way that I was. I could've said something."

"And what would that've achieved? Me cutting you off and nothing changing?"

You clambered up to your elbows. "And now we're here." You smiled, one side a little crooked with how gleeful you were. "Look, we can hash everything out during the break, now just... Let's focus on other things."

Regina, still looking conflicted, caressed a hand up your leg. You shivered. You were in just a hoodie and loose briefs. Regina was more covered up than you, but still in just your old basketball shorts and a big band tee.

"Reggie, I'm getting used to asking for things I shouldn't want. Amuse me." You turned onto your back and hooked your legs around Regina. She fell forward, hands braced on either side of your torso. "Kiss me."

"I just don't want to mess up and have all this go away." She swallowed, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

"I think we're gonna mess up plenty of times. It's a possibility you'll find some justification to make somebody's life hell for a time. I could relapse." You pulled her closer with your legs, arms coming up to cross your fingers behind her neck. "A lot of the time we're not gonna want to admit it, we might not even know it. So, we can lay out a few... Promises, or something."

"Okay," Regina said, gazing down at you like you never imagined. Like you meant things to her. Important things.

"Promise me that you'll listen. Even if you disagree, please hear me out." She nodded seriously. "And, in turn, I promise to speak my mind. When I don't like something, or just like something, I'll say so." Again, she nodded. You loosened your hold on her neck and rubbed your thumbs on her cheeks. Getting to touch her like this, having her literally between your legs, was more than you ever thought you'd get.

Even if this ended in a similar fashion to the Thanksgiving kiss, or even much, much worse, you'd have regretted not taking the chance for the rest of your life.

"And... This is the most important one... Come closer."

Regina shifted closer, bending down, her elbows coming to rest next to your chest as she turned her ear towards you.

You whispered conspiratorially, like this was top-secret: "Still let me do your yard work."

Notes: Fucking christ. I wrote this all in one sitting. 4.3k words. That's like two chapters. I've written long chapters before, longer than this, but I got so used to the 2k on average pace that this felt huge.

Also! Don't be spooked by the [final chapter] marking! This is the last chapter in the story, yes, but we'll be hearing more from Reggie and Jorts still! I have a couple of epilogue sequences I want to write. Would y'all be interested in a poll as to what order those should be published? As in, chronological. Do we start from 10 Years Later... or something more like, idk, next summer? Lmk in the comments :)

This might be counterintuitive to add, and if my lovely amazing readers have exercised their reading comprehension during this series they might get why on a more nuanced level, revenge on Gretchen was left out purposefully. This will not be the last we hear of her, I have some plans for her in some of the epilogues, but yes. That plot point was left open on purpose.

The name. A lot of people like it! I was feeling insecure about my lack of foresight and impulsive naming, but hey, as it turns out it's not that deep! To add, it went really nicely with the end there I think :) No changes will be happening.

This note is getting so long. I just wanna thank everybody that's been along for the ride so far. I read every single comment and check my notifications way too often for new ones. I'm pretty used to writing for quite dead/inactive fandoms on AO3, and I love that site it's my origin, but it's very different to Tumblr. I just feel like people on here are much more open to sharing their thoughts. Everybody who's bore witness to my grief with the taglist, thank you for your patience. And thank you so much for wanting to be on it. I cannot believe people wanted that. For little ole me? Oh, you shouldn't have...

If there are spelling errors or grammatical weirdness, shhh. I'm not reading all that again at 1am. Toodles!

Taglist will be posted separately! Comment on that post if you want to be added to be notified when the epilogies are published!

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I have three questions. In my story I'd like one of my characters to use a cane, because I never see any representation for younger people who use canes. For context this is in a medieval fantasy setting and it's going to be a comic so it will be visual media.

Question 1

I was thinking about why she might use it, and I thought maybe she could have broken her leg at some point and have chronic pain from that. I looked it up and it looks like broken bones CAN cause chronic pain, and I found a few posts from people saying that they have chronic pain/a limp after breaking their legs.

Does this sound like something that she would/could use a cane for? Would this type of chronic pain be helped by using a cane, or would it not make much of a differnece?

Question 2

At one point in the story her best friend/love interest is being attacked by a creature. Would it be okay for her to use her cane to hit it? She doesn't beat the shit out of it or anything, she just whacks it on the head to get its attention and stop it from attacking her friend.

Idk if this is even a trope but I don't want it to come across as me saying disability aids are dangerous or secretly weapons or something. She doesn't have one of those sword canes, it's just a normal cane.

Question 3

I don't know a lot about canes but I'm planning on her cane being a hand-carved, wooden, offset handle cane.

Will that type of cane be good for supporting her body as she walks around? She's pretty petite and maybe around like 5'2" or something, so she doesn't have a lot of weight to support.

I found a guide online that stated how to size her cane correctly, but do I need to add a few extra inches to compensate for the cane sinking into the ground when she walks around outdoors or will that not make much of a difference?

She lives in a rural village and there are no paved roads, just dirt. Should I maybe put a metal cap on the bottom of the cane so that it doesn't get worn down on dirt/rocks/etc?

Hi!

A cane would make sense for that! Especially if her leg doesn't offer enough stability or can't bear all the weight (though if it can't bear it at all, crutches would be better).

I don't see a problem with whacking something with a cane, though it's definitely a desperate measure (I mean, a walking cane is short as hell). I can't imagine that it would be a particularly good weapon unless she manages to knock it out first try lol. But for diverting attention it would be fine.

The type of cane sounds good to me! Though keep in mind that if she's petite and doesn't have a lot of strength, it being wooden could be eventually tiring for her in the long run. Most modern canes are much lighter for this reason.

As for the height measuring, unless she walks in mud or something equally swamp-esque it wouldn't really make a difference. The general rule is that a cane should reach the crease at the wrist, but in my experience it doesn't have to be exact. More or less around that height should be alright.

A metal cap is an interesting solution! Canes do very much wear out at the tip, and we have to change out the tips once in a while, especially if we happen to be going through harsher terrain a lot. Because her cane is wooden and non-modern, I think the best idea would be to always have the tip covered (these things wear off from any surface in existence, some are just faster than others) and change them occasionally when they're no longer usable (e.g. after walking through a rocky terrain for a long time).

I appreciate the amount of thought you put into the character! I hope this is helpful:-)

mod Sasza

[hungerpunch]

an episode of sbtgrvl's six questions, with valtteri bottas

Q: how did you get into car racing?

A: actually by accident. i was the first one in my family to do any form of car racing. i was 5 years old in my hometown of lahti with my dad, we were going to town, and there was a sign that there was a go kart race. we decided "okay, let's have a look," we didn't really know what is karting. it was a finnish championship event, and apparently as a kid, i was pretty wild--it was the only time i was sitting still for two hours.

we went to the club the next day and they had some rental karts that you could try. but i was too short, i couldn't reach the pedals. so then i was really sad and we went back home. my granddad told me that "if you eat porridge every morning, next summer you could be able to reach the pedals." and yes, i had porridge every morning all winter and magic happened: i could fit the kart next time!

Q: what would you say is the greatest moment in your career?

A: it's a tough one, because there's been like the go-kart days when a single win in a club race you get so much joy. but along the way, i would still say my first win in formula 1 because that was a bit of a surreal moment for me. you know, dreaming of it as a kid, always watching on tv, and then one day actually being there on the top step of the podium. and that was 2017.

Q: what is it about cycling that you're drawn to?

A: there's lots of things i love about cycling. obviously, i think a big motivation why my cycling has improved has been my girlfriend, tiffany cromwell. she's my hero. obviously, it's her job, she's a professional, but it's something we can do together. for me, it's a hobby. it's a big part of my life. it's good for training, obviously, for cardio. for me, it's such a nice way to see places. because i'm fortunate that i can travel quite a bit with f1 and also between the races. like now, i've decided to come to colorado and see some new places. it's also nice to have the races as mini-goals between the f1 races.

Q: whose job is harder? yours as a formula 1 racer or tiffany's as professional cyclist?

A: i have to say that they everyday life of a cyclist is pretty brutal. like yes, i mean, our sport is physical and demanding in different ways. but the amount of training that professional cyclists have to do every day, the amount of hours, is brutal and painful. from my side, hats off to every pro cyclist. it's definitely not the easiest sport you could choose. f1 is different because we are pushing ourselves quite a bit mentally. because in the end, it is a skill sport. but also physical. but then there's all the other things, the media commitments, the sponsor events, the happenings are the race week. so being able to still focus and performing on track while all this craziness is happening. that's the hard part. but it is physical, like in miami, it was quite hot. i lost 3 kilos during the race.

Q: can you speak about the physical demand of being in an event like that?

A: as a driver, you need endurance, because the race is always longer than 1.5 hours. and obviously in hot conditions, the better endurance and cardio system you have, it helps. then also, you need quite a strong core and neck, because the g forces put quite a bit of pressure on your body. at the same time, you need to be fast in terms of decision-making and reaction times. the training we do is kind of a mix of cardio (bike), strength (core), and reaction/speed skill training.

Q: what is finland cycling like?

A: it's beautiful there. actually, many of the aspects in finland for riding reminds me a lot of colorado in a way. like the nature is similar. amazing gravel roads, there's so much for me to still explore. i really got into cycling 2-3 years ago. but for example in my hometown, lahti, there's so much gravel roads. beautiful nature, lakes, paths, and normally it's pretty quiet. like you can go for a ride and you don't see anyone. the only thing is we do get proper winters, so the cycling season is not year-round unless you want to kit up.

*some answers condensed for clarity/point of interest.

[arvinsescape]

Y/N... Holland

A/N: Based on a request i recieved, i have not personally seen this tik tok so i have tried to base it off what i recieved, i hope you enjoy! 

Request:  Saw this on a tik tok - where the reader is doing an interview with Tom and introduces themselves as Y/N Holland and the interviewer asks if you're a sister or a cousin and Tom goes actually she's my wife.

Warnings: None that i’m aware of. It’s just super fluffy.

How you had managed to keep your relationship with Tom a secret was a complete mystery to you, there had been a couple of close calls and explanations of “no, she’s just a very good friend.” A few of his fans were suspicious but they ultimately had nothing to confirm or deny your relationship. He’d wanted to keep it a secret for as long as possible, wanting to shield you from how aggressive some of his fanbase was, which you only ever saw a glimpse of when rumours sparked.

You’d gotten married around two months ago and was again shocked that you’d managed to pull off a beautiful wedding and engagement period without anyone finding out. You felt as accomplished as Kylie Jenner, you were proud of yourselves. To say you were surprised that Tom had kept it quiet was an understatement, there were at least three occasions where he’d almost posted something to Instagram and at least a dozen of him almost outright admitting it in an interview.

However, now that you were married you’d become a little more careless, there was a picture circulating from around a month ago with speculations but Tom had just been quiet about it. You were a little more relaxed about people finding out now, you were married, they’d have to know eventually. Tom was currently doing interviews from home, he was in his office but he hadn’t mentioned anything about an interview so you’d strolled in casually to find something.

“So yeah the film- “Tom had tried to carry on as if you hadn’t just burst through his office door and definitely wandered in view of the camera. You spun round and looked at him in apology as he looked a bit taken off guard himself. He was so sure he’d told you about this interview and you wouldn’t just wander in, you’d never done it before.

“Who’s this Tom?” The interviewer interrupted with an amused look, probably being able to sense the looks the couple were giving each other.

“That’s Y/N.” Tom mumbled slightly as he gestured for you to sit next to him and you did but you were nervous.

“Y/N…” The interviewer urged for your last name. You took a moment to decide what you should do next. Would it be so bad if the world finally knew? You’d both discussed confirming it, Tom still a little hesitant. You looked at him for a second as he looked at you, screw it.

“Holland.” You answered after a moment. Tom raised his eyebrows and you just shrugged him off as your attention went back to the interviewer, you’d already gate crashed at this point so no turning back right?

“I didn’t know you had a sister Tom? I thought you had three brothers.” The interviewer was amused now, probably excited he was going to get some sort of latest gossip first, meet a family member no one else knew about.

“I don’t.” Tom answered vaguely and politely, he’d found your hand under the desk and had interlocked your fingers, you weren’t sure whether the action was to calm your nerves or his.

“A cousin then?” The interviewer tried again. You gave Tom’s hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know it was alright, you were ready.

“Actually,” Tom cleared his throat as he looked at you. “She’s my wife.” He said as he smiled, it honestly felt like a huge weight had been lifted, it wasn’t how he planned for people to find out but here you were.

“What?” The interviewer was shocked now, I’m sure of all the things he thought you were going to say this was not it. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, we’ve been together about 3 years, got married recently.” Tom answered again.

“Not to be rude or anything Tom but how did you of all people keep that so quiet?” The interviewer laughed.

“Honestly, it’s a complete mystery to me.” You laughed along as Tom joined.

“I just wanted to keep it quiet until the time felt right, wanted to make sure she could keep as normal of a life as possible.” Tom went on to say.

“So was this the plan the whole time?” The interviewer gestured to your gate crashing.

“No, I didn’t know he was in an interview, he’d not mentioned this one. No offence.” You laughed as the interviewer joined.

“At least now I can wear my wedding ring in public, the amount of times I’ve almost walked through the door with it on.” Tom joked as he reached for his ring on the table that he’d left just out of view of the camera but not his own view.

“Let’s see.” The interviewer said. Tom quickly put his ring back on and showed it to the camera as you did the same. “Well that confirms it ladies and gentlemen. Tom Holland is a married man.” He laughed again.

The interview continued for a little while longer, you’d managed to take your leave about five minutes after gate crashing and were currently scrolling through social media. You’d already received god knows how many Instagram follow requests. Most people were shocked but happy that their idol had found someone and applauded him for keeping his private life just that, private. Of course, a string of nasty comments were being directed your way, but you did your best to ignore it. Just as you were about to switch your phone off for the day you got a notification to say that Tom had posted on his Instagram, curious you opened it.

He’d posted a picture from your wedding day, it was his favourite because it was caught off guard, curtesy of Harry, possibly one of the only pictures taken that wasn’t posed for. You were stood in your beautiful wedding dress and laughing at something Harrison had said and Tom couldn’t keep his eyes off you, the look of love was so clearly captured in this photo, he had this picture printed so many times and had them scattered around in so many places; his wallet, his house in Atlanta, his office desk and a few more places you were yet to find.

So as you are now all aware, yes, I am a married man. I couldn’t be happier with Y/N, she means the world to me and I’m so excited for you to be able to get to know her. Please understand that I didn’t tell you all about her because I wanted to protect her from any amount of hatred and allow her to continue as normal a life as possible. She truly is a beautiful person and the love of my life. All I ask is that you are happy for me and my wife and you are kind to her, she deserves all the kindness in the world and you’ll see that the more you get to know her. Much love, Tom xx. 

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

city lights, pretty sights || tom holland x reader

a/n: hello again! so i was completely overwhelmed by the lovely response my first tom holland mini fic/imagine/blurb thing received from you guys. and i had a couple more ideas so decided to keep going and see what you all think. once again - i hope you guys are liking these, let me know if you are and if you wanna have a chat about anything tom related - hmu, I'd love to chat! 

word count: 1673 warning: none (that i can remember anyways) summary: wandering through nyc late at night still in your premiere outfits; pizza, piggy back rides and cute scenes

“What’s your thoughts on pizza?” 

You nuzzle closer into the side of the figure next to you, feeling them guiding and supporting you along the path as you walk together. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t holding on a little tighter than normal. Looking up to him you grinned, hair falling out of the loose style it’d been sitting in all night, the bouncy curls now framing your face, “I love pizza.” You could feel the presence of Tom’s security, walking a little further back giving you both some space, but still close enough that if anything at all happened, they’d be there to get you both home. You approach a tiny little hole-in-the-wall takeaway pizzeria, Tom pulling himself behind you, keeping hold of your hand as you walked through the tiny entrance. “Two slices of your pepperoni pizza please?!” you ask, grabbing a couple dollars from inside your bag and handing it over to the man. the place was empty. “Ay, 2 minutes!” You thank him and lean back slightly, now bracing yourself against Tom as he wraps both his arms around your waist and tucks his chin into your neck. sweeping a couple tiny kisses below your ear. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” he whispers, brushing some hair behind your ear with his nose. “Only every single time you’ve looked at me,” you laugh, “It’s not every day I have make-up artists and dresses delivered to me. But I think you’ll find it’s me who can’t keep her eyes off of you. You were amazing tonight, y’know?” He hums into your bare shoulder, your body vibrating against his touch. Tonight was crazy; and you still couldn’t quite believe that it wasn’t all just some very elaborate dream. You had been making breakfast a couple days ago for you both, spoiling Tom now that he was back in London fresh off his press tour. You had come into the bedroom to tell him everything was ready when he pulled you down onto the bed and into his chest, gently asking if he could bring you as his plus one to his premiere in New York. The days that followed were crazy. Some designers had sent some dresses once they were told Tom was bringing a plus one, all eager to be the first to dress ‘her’. It was overwhelming to say the least. You were brought back from your memory by a saucy pizza aroma, your stomach reacting after now realising how long it had been since you’d eaten. You’d been so nervous all day, and everything was so stressful this morning...this pizza couldn’t come faster. Aside from your rumbling tummy, there was another big reason why neither of you had wanted to go straight home after the premiere. You hadn’t looked at your phones yet. Nor did you particularly want to. You knew the media would have been chomping at the bit to release the photos and articles of Tom and his ‘mystery girl’ - you were making the most of your normality with him before it was all blown to smithereens. Before you could dwell on that thought any longer, two slices of thick NYC pizza wrapped in napkins atop paper plates slid across the counter towards you. Tom unwound his arms from around your body and you both grabbed your slices before giving your thanks and leaving the pizzeria with a jingle of the bell above the door. //// You finished the last few bites of your pizza, leaving the crust before throwing it into the nearest bin. The city lights were glittering, cars still lining the streets despite the late hour. It definitely was the city that never sleeps and you loved it here. Despite it being hot and sticky all day, a cold wind had picked up and the material of your dress wasn’t exactly the warmest. Tiny little goosebumps has appeared on your arms, the little hairs standing up straight. “You wanna head back? It’s getting cold,” tom asked, he shuffled himself out of his burgundy suit jacket and held it open for you to put your arms in before sliding it up and over your shoulders, enveloping you. “-Or we can call a car here?” he continued. You had stopped where you stood, just at one of the entrances to central park. “We can have a car come in about 15 minutes if you want to take a little stroll about the park, Tom?” His security guard had noticed the lack of movement and had come over to see if either of you needed his assistance. “That sounds great, thank you!” you called, refusing to let this day end just yet. “Thank you for today, the paparazzi and the media and all the shouting. It’s a lot to deal with. Would put many off, but you handled it like a complete pro. We did the right thing didn’t we?” Tom asked, keeping his eyes forward to the grassy path lined with trees. “Hey. Look at me.” You turn him to face you, the lamplights highlighting his eyes as they trained themselves onto you, “I knew what I was getting myself into, and no amount of press or media stunts are gonna ruin this. No way. We’ll deal with it - as long as you want to keep making these films, I’ll support you. through the good and the bad, right?” He shifts on his feet, slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. His lifestyle had gotten in the way of his relationships before, you knew that. and Tom felt deeply about the people he loved. It was partly why you loved him and a reason why you’d both agreed to keep you out of the limelight for a while. You knew he was giving you a get out of jail free card. A reason to leave if you needed it. “I’m in this. I promise,” you reassured him. Youu bring your hands up to his face, caressing his cheek slightly, brushing the curls out of his face with your hand, “Since when did you get so soppy anyway?” “What can I say...it’s part of the charm!” you saw that twinkle jump back into his eyes, his playful energy taking centre stage pushing the tiredness, vulnerability and fear to the back of his mind. You continued to walk through the park a little, still within eyeshot of the entrance, careful not to wander too far. Enjoying each other’s company in a peaceful section of this intense city. At that moment, in classic NYC style, the heavens opened up and a heavy rainstorm thundered into the ground. The pair of you started laughing, the rain catching you both slightly as you took cover under one of the trees lining the pathway. You noticed Tom’s security waving you over, your car was here and the stretch from where you were both sheltered under the tree to the entrance was fully open. “Right, hop on!” You look at Tom confused as he squats down slightly, his arms held out behind him. Gathering up your dress slightly, you grip onto his shoulders, count down from 3 and hop onto his back, wrapping your legs around his waist and linking your arms around his shoulders and neck, clinging on with your face pressed into his hair. “Go go go!” You burst out laughing as he makes a beeline for the car, the rain pelting down on the both of you, completely soaking the pair of you to the bone. Your hair whipped around your face and you could hear Tom laughing as he ran, you couldn’t help but join in. You closed your eyes, tilted your head up and let it hit you for a moment, you were by far the luckiest girl in the world. You’d reached the car before you knew it, Tom gently lowered you back to the ground as you hopped back off - keeping your dress off the ground in the hopes not to ruin it completely. Opening the car door and ducking your head in, you slid across the seats, Tom on your heels. “Well, that was unexpected.” Tom looked at you, his full curls plastered to his head - shirt dripping, and burst out laughing, “I love you but you look like a raccoon.” You playfully hit on him on the shoulder before bursting into laughter yourself, “Oh shut up. ” //// Tom was, as expected, trending on all social media the next day. Articles and photos of his past relationships and rumoured romances brought to the surface as your red-carpet photos together came to light. However, the press hadn’t caught the best photos of the night at all.

In amongst all the posed pictures, two slightly blurry but still recognisable photos were moving their way across the internet. One taken by a fan through the window and across the road from the pizzeria - of Tom cuddling you from behind as you leaned back into him dressed in gown and tux. And another, of you with your head back, hair wild, laughing and Tom carrying you on his back, floppy and curly hair, massive grin and eyes crinkling at the sides - taken by another fan, you suspected. As gorgeous as the media pics were, you knew behind them was stress and nervousness from both parties, and you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach that someone had managed to capture both of you completely natural and free, enjoying yourselves and each other on such a monumental day for both Tom and for your relationship. You liked and saved both the pictures before hearing the click of your phone locking shut as you placed it back on the bedside table. Rolling over you curled yourself behind Tom before he shifted himself onto his back, arm sliding under your shoulders and shifting you into his side. You close your eyes as he presses a sleepy kiss to your forehead and you let yourself finally relax - completely and utterly content.

[meichenxi]

Hey, could I ask you how you do shadowing? Like the different ways you do it? You mentioned in your tag that shadowing is good and I'd love to hear how you do it! I do not attempt shadowing much so I don't really know what helps, etc. ToT (my studyblr is rigelmejo)

Hellooo! Thank you for the interesting question!

Tbh I think I do it fairly basically - I don’t use any particularly fancy software, but software like Language Learning with Netflix has certainly made it easier. There’s a whole video on how to get the most of it here: [on mobile, link didn't work - How to study Chinese with Netflix! by Chinese Zero To Hero] (I’d recommend checking out all of their videos actually, they’ve done a bunch of livestreams recently and they place a lot of emphasis on shadowing + the course they are trying to sell you is…actually phenomenally good)

(Also, I have to preface this by saying that I have been very lucky in terms of pronunciation: I learnt about 80% of my current vocabulary by ear without characters or pinyin. I have been in China for eight months in total, and while I didn’t speak Chinese for all of that, I was constantly soaking in info on natural sentence intonation. I still often don’t know officially what the tone of a vocabulary item is, especially if it changes tone like 教, 为 or 相, but I don’t get yelled at so I have definitely internalised a lot of those changes. I definitely would have more trouble with this if I hadn’t had that experience - my other areas are waaaay weaker because of this though- my reading SUCKS lmao and I can literally handwrite about ten characters)

Anyway. How I shadow:

1) Quite simply by playing the line, and repeating it with all the emotion it has!! I usually use Netflix or Viki for this. I try to do it as fast as possible, and if I can’t do the whole thing, I ‘chunk’ it: if I were doing the sentence 我们还不知道他会不会来, I would start from the end with 他会不会来, then 不知道他会不会来, and then the whole sentence. Notice that this isn’t breaking it down into words or even grammatical phrases, but intonational phrases: it would be perfectly sensible to just do 会不会来 without the 他 but realistically, since this is a question, it’s likely that a strong stress will be placed on the first 会, and you wouldn’t be able to replicate that without also included the more weakly stressed syllable before.

2) I locate (intentionally or subconsciously) the main locus of stress within the sentence, and I focus on that accordingly. Tones may become less extreme if they are not stressed, and may become more exaggerated if stressed. This is always a good exercise. I accompany this with physical actions - I throw my hands down, I sigh, I groan!

3) I put away the text, and don’t look at the tones or even my computer screen - more on this below.

4) Finally, when I think I’ve got it reasonably accurate, I’ll record them speaking the line into my phone with an appropriate pause for copying and play it back to myself at various points throughout the day.

5) I then go and find other words with the same tone contour to slot in, and copy it again. After that, I find words that are slightly different tonally and pop them in too.

6) I finally do fun things like hold a conversation with myself. This can be really simple phrases imbued with some kind of emotion - 这个女子到底是谁呀？为什么不认识我？应该是新手吧。You can do this either really informally, or very formally, or both - trying to speak in the latter way is very fun! So then it’d be idk something more like: 那位姑娘是何人，来自何处？This is fun because you can really slow down your speech and sound as elegant as you like!! (this will sound stilted if you do it for modern speech, but it’s a very fun exercise)

Choosing your media!!

1) Don’t use donghuas. Seriously. The voice actors usually speak at a ridiculous pace and not with the same range of ‘normal’ intonation

2) Your Chinese is definitely good enough to recognise when anyone is quoting poetry or speaking in a paricularly sexy literary way so, uh…don’t do that. That rules dramas like Nirvana in Fire OUT.

3) Modern dramas and reality TV shows CAN be great, but they can also be quite intimidatingly quick and almost too mushy at times. I’d recommend informal speech in guzhuang dramas more, because they have professional voice actors and extensive sound editing, meaning that although it might be fast and the vocabulary harder, it’s actually much more accessible and easier to copy. You don’t want to be stuck with the awfulness of 50% failed foreigner and 50% 12 year old boy who can’t enunciate properly!!

4) CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON WISELY. I try to find characters that speak in a dramatic, whiny or childish way. This is so important! There’s literally no use copying Lan Wangji unless you want to be able to have that particular cadence and tone of voice you get reciting poetry. Childish/whiny/dramatic characters on the other hand stress some words very strongly, and rush others together - this is great for hearing what actual real speech sounds like. Whininess wins. In The Untamed, characters like Wei Wuxian (not yllz!wwx but just…regular wwx), 一问三不知 Nie Huaisang, Jin Ling, and Jingyi are all great. Also Jiggy, who is just very extra constantly and speaks much slower as well, which really helps. In SHL characters like Gu Xiang are good.

5) CHOOSE YOUR VOICE WISELY! If you are really aiming to copy them 100% (which you should try at least sometimes), you want somebody with your pitch range to sound normal. I have a sort of party trick in Chinese that because I’ve spent so much time listening to women in guzhuang dramas I can change my voice and sound like a) a scheming concubine with honeyed words, or b) the voice of the Beijing metro. My teacher found it hysterically funny. But it’s not my natural voice, and if I speak like that for too long it hurts. The women usually are too high for me, and the big burly manly men too low - so I’d recommend finding a man with a higher voice, or an older woman (like some of the female characters in Nirvana in Fire). Again, sorry that this is mostly the Untamed (I’m just most familiar with it) but the voice actors for Wei Wuxian and some of the juniors (+jiggy) has a higher voice. Likewise Chengling in Word of Honour.

On intonation in general:

- The thing is that whilst shadowing is useful it requires prior ability in a whole bunch of other skills that you can train - it relies on your ability to accurately mimic pitch, emotion and other contrasts. Training this in ANY language, including your native one, will help your ability to do this in Chinese - so I’d recommend spending a fair amount of time practicing shadowing (or speaking just after somebody whilst listening to a string of text, like monolingual simultaneous interpreting) in your native language too. Any training copying accents or mimicking other people is going to similarly help, regardless of the language.

So, with that in mind, further tips:

1) Hum / try to copy the intonation without any words. What this does is force you to pay attention to what the intonation actually is, versus what you may think it should be.

2) Don’t look at the text! Do! Not! Look! At! The! Text! If you look at the characters or pinyin you’re telling yourself ‘ok this is a third tone here’ etc, but you want to override the part of your brain that has gotten into bad habits and is supremely self-confident in how you’re pronouncing the third tone, and actually just go straight back to mimicking.

3) Don’t be afraid to do it with vocabulary that is way beyond your level. Actually, I find this can sometimes be helpful, because you don’t have a prior idea about how a particular tone pair should be useful - and you don’t know which tone you should be producing.

4) Learn vocabulary by ear - listen to a vocab podcast or even make one yourself (I often do this; I record my daily Anki and listen back to it through headphones copying throughout the day - if you’re not confident in your pronunciation you can get Google Translate to do it). Similarly, pick unknown vocabulary out of a longer segment and remember it, trying to internalise the tones instead of figuring out which tone it is.

5) Find emotional sentences, and copy them with emotion. This is SO CRUCIAL!!! We remember things when we relate to them, and when we imbue them with emotion - and it also helps in hearing exactly how an angry second tone sounds, for instance.

6) When you’re copying, look up, and imagine you are having an actual conversation. Carry yourself with conviction and poise!! Really try to whine like wwx or slime like jgy. After a couple of turns copying them, try to turn off the audio and keep delivering it in the same manner.

7) Swap individual words out. Once you have a line properly figured out, swap a word or two that has a different tone pair, and focus on delivering it with the same pattern of stress.

8) Finally, practice doing this in your native language too!! It’s a skill that we don’t use often, and it can be trained. Some people are terrible at it at first go even in their native language, but you can work on it!

About intonation in general:

1) I think a lot of pronunciation problems with people sounding unnatural or stiff ultimately come down to a fundamental misunderstanding of what intonation looks like across different languages. In English we mark it by pitch: and we are so used to the rhetoric that Chinese has ‘tone’ and not ‘intonation’ that we try and focus on blindly copying every single word textbook perfect without listening to how it actually sounds.

2) Chinese does have intonation!!! Except that, unlike English, when you stress a word, the pitch doesn’t change, but the tone contour is exaggerated - basically the only time you will ever hear a full third tone is in isolated or very exaggerated speech. If you have a Chinese friend, get them to record a sentence like the English ‘I didn’t ask her to steal his rucksack’, and put stress on the different elements of it - I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, and so on. Notice and copy how the tones change. When shadowing, you should always be paying attention to where the stress is in the sentence: when you speak by yourself, practicing saying a sentence neutrally, and then with stress on one component, the next, and so on. If it feels unnatural, it’s because you might not have practicised like this before - it’ll get better!

Hope that’s somewhat helpful / interesting!

- 梅晨曦

[1kook]

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn���t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.  

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: iii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2   ||   chapter 4

word count: 4.2k

a cheeky drink and some mutual sabotage. 

warnings: oh no, they say s*x, fluff, pining, the usual, and a wittle angst on the side, reader smokes cigs bc its a salem trademarked fic thing

enjoy folks ;^) the whole of this piece is gonna be about? ten chapters. so. hold on tight!!!

beta read by @keiqos, heart EYES

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“Let that sit for a second or you’ll burn yourself—”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, angel. I know the drill.” Hawks replied with a wink.

You weren’t ever going to get tired of that.

You really expected Hawks to disappear out of your life. You really, truly expected him to run off for good. How many bigger, better, and more important things did he have to do? Even if you managed to speak to him and regard him like any other customer (or, perhaps acquaintance, and more recently, friend — ), your mind swam with insecurities that only seemed to get worse over time.

You were waiting for the metaphorical thread to snap.

You waited for the day Hawks simply would stop texting you flirty bullshit on a somewhat regular basis.

But, holy fuck, the dude didn’t.

 You couldn’t think of why. You weren’t complaining about the attention, but you also were terrified of getting too used to it. Hawks was a part... bird (?) right? He was flighty by nature.

Despite this, Hawks continued to not only text you but also stopped by the shop fairly frequently for his special, quirk-fueled beverage fix. Politely, he’d text you the day before he planned to make an appearance to check and see if you were working, and then show up the next day like it was nothing. 

He usually wouldn’t stay for long; the hero was ungodly busy and always on the move. But, he always took the time to flirt and get a full description of his drink before dashing out to save the world once more. 

Most days he visited were his ‘hero work’ days. He’d appear in his costume, done up and dashing for a sip and a quick talk before disappearing once more into the skies. Every once in a while, Hawks had an ‘office’ day where he’d be confined to his agency to catch up on his insane backlog of paperwork. On these occasions, Hawks would talk (stall) at the tea shop for as long as possible. You talked and joked with him as long as he would let you. Sure, it put you behind on work, but no one at the shop was going to tell you off for fraternizing with the number two hero (whose repeated presence was drawing more customers anyways). You both reveled in each other's attention, drinking in the other’s slowly softening smiles and quick wit. 

 On this day, Keigo’s wings were the shittiest they had been in a while. Plucked and almost barren with how much he’d been working lately. Total exhaustion seemed like it was constantly on the horizon, tugging as his eyelids and weighing down his chest each morning.

It was easier to get out of bed when he got to think about seeing you.

Sure, your drinks were a perk. Very much so. He was getting so used to the artisan beverages you crafted that the taste of his normal canned coffee was starting to bother him. 

But, what his real thrill in visiting the tea shop was that he got to see you, and that made his heart pound. 

He sat across from you, looking down into your newest drink. It swirled between dark and milky, a heady, rich aroma billowing up with the steam it produced. He had requested something ‘surprising, new, and horribly caffeinated’ as deep fatigue was the worst villain he’d likely see that day. You had just nodded, cheekily starting to prepare his drink with a bounce in your step, pupils going wide. 

“I feel like you’re gonna start running out of ideas one of these days,” Keigo laughed, adjusting himself on his stool, gloves and jacket removed. He almost looked like a normal patron.

 You grinned to yourself, idly cleaning around you as you often did, “I dunno, I’ve got a lot.”

Hawks raised an eyebrow, “Tell me about them.”

“Nope, top-secret,” You shook your head, digging into your apron to flash him the small notepad you carried on you.

Scrawled in nasty handwriting, you carried your many ‘feeling’ ideas around with you. Different concepts and abstractions all scribbled down, a nice long list to look back on whenever Hawks would make his appearances and his own vague requests. Your backlog of ideas made it easy to find something more than suitable to make for him.

When Hawks saw your notepad his eyes widened, tilting his head and a devious smirk coming to his lips.

Your expression fell, and you stuffed the papers back into your pocket, hiding your hot face by idly cleaning some more. 

You left yourself very open for teasing, it seemed.

(Not that you or Keigo minded.)

“You keep a little list of all of your ideas! I’m beyond flattered,” Hawks ran a hand through his hair, flashing a cocky smile for you. 

“I have to stay prepared, can’t be disappointing my celebrity sugar daddy,” You winked as Hawks’s eyes went wide, half-hearing a choke get caught in his throat. (You loved it when you were able to get him visibly flustered. What a treat.) You nodded down to the drink, “Should be good to try now.” 

 Keigo really liked spending time with you. He knew it was always fleeting and short and consistently he wanted to find reasons to stay with you at the tea shop counter for longer and longer. Your quips and chides continued to get quicker and more clever and he was having an increasingly difficult time keeping his cool around you. Most of the time he smoothed himself easily, not showing a trace other than that which he neurologically couldn’t control. 

But sometimes, you were bold enough and ballsy enough to get him to gag on his literal words and he was positive that you were the only person to ever have him break composure in such a way. 

He covered his weakened poise by sipping the new drink, mindfully letting the taste wash over his tongue.

Increasingly, you’d been changing up the so-called ‘vibe’ of your beverages. It seemed like each time Keigo dropped in, you had something new and vibrant to show him. 

This drink was particularly different.

The taste was rich, dark, and smooth, rolling into the back of his throat and down his spine. It coated his insides with a warm, low heat. Peeking through were sweet, light accents, warm but almost... teasing?

His dick twitched.

 Hawks’s mouth dropped open, any and all professional veneers dropped as you just beamed so fucking smugly at him. 

“What do you think?” You leaned a bit forward, bouncing on your toes with excitement.

“Is... Is this supposed to taste like sex?” Hawks asked, taking another mouthful to confirm. Based on the way his eyes briefly shut and some of the tension rolled from his shoulders, he thoroughly confirmed it.

“Technically, it’s crafted based on like... a late-night rendezvous. I left it fairly up to interpretation beyond that. The rest is on you.” You shrugged, still bouncing as Hawks took another chug.

“What the fuck, (Y/N),” Pleasant shock colored his features, but clear amusement stretched across his lips as he continued to drink. 

“You wanted something surprising and horribly caffeinated. That’s a dark chocolate mocha with two extra shots, our in-house raspberry and rhubarb syrup, a bit of white chocolate syrup, and a few of my add-ins as well. It’s pretty different from what I’ve made you before,” You blinked at him, stomach twisting as his expression remained unguarded. “I... I probably should’ve asked before giving you a drink that definitely could’ve been taken as sex. That’s my bad. I can remake you something else if you’d like?”

 Keigo shook himself from his stupor, shaking his head and quickly regaining his composure. He took another sip to emphasize his words, “No, nope. It’s okay. Definitely okay. The drink is really good. I’m just now wondering something.”

“And, what’s that?” You asked, reaching behind the counter to grab your own iced beverage.

“Can your quirk be used to manifest bad feelings and concepts, just like good ones?” Keigo asked. Normally, he’d add more nuance, but he was getting impatient and sloppy around you. He’d have to keep that in check.

Especially with the way your shoulders drew up and tensed. You turned a bit away from him, any and all potential for eye contact torn away.

He hit a nerve.

“The type of abstract feeling doesn’t matter, I can emulate it,” You replied, pulling at your nails. Keigo had long picked up that it was one of your habits when your anxiety spiked. 

He dropped it, but didn’t forget. There were public files on quirks. Maybe he’d look into it. Maybe. It felt a bit invasive, but considering plenty of that data was freely accessible, it hardly was an invasion of privacy, right? 

(Except for the fact that it obviously made you very uncomfortable to discuss the more unsavory potentials of your quirk.) 

(He just wouldn’t tell you.)  

Keigo switched topics, easily rolling away from the topic, “Any particular... event that inspired this one?” 

You pressed your hands into the counter, leaning over it to glare at him, “Are you referring to something with that comment, Hawks?”

He shuddered when you said his name, but you don’t notice. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Keigo shrugged easily, going for another sip.

 The drink was inspired by the several day cinematic, wine-bender you went on a week or two prior. An entire weekend with just you, your cats, three entire bottles of wine, and a backlog of movies to catch up on. You tried to consume lots of different types of media, but what had been catching your eye lately had been anything with gushy romance for fairly obvious reasons.

(There was an embarrassing amount of ideas for drinks that were a bit too romantic to properly indulge with your quirk. You’d never tested the limits of how certain feelings could manifest, and you weren’t quite ready to face the reality where you could make people nut from caffeinated milk.)

“It is good though, the drink,” Hawks smacked his lips together as if it would make his coming analysis more credible. “It definitely does taste like sex, but more so complicated. Darker.”

“Deeper.” You smiled. “Your palette is getting more refined. I’m proud.”

“Are you saying it was bad to begin with?” Hawks pouted, flashing you falsely weepy eyes and a puffed out lip.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, you yourself have admitted this. You drink canned coffee still, so I can’t even call your taste good.”

Hawks gasped, putting a hand to his chest, “I’m hurt, truly wounded.”

“I’m sure you are, tailfeathers.”

“I really thought I had reliably moved up to ‘birdboy’, angel.”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, “Just goes to show how quickly the tables turn, tailfeathers.”

Hawks’s pager suddenly chimed, a familiar sign. He took a quick look at it and sighed, moving to re-robe. You were surprised by the speed at which he did so, and the way he became tense so quickly. 

It made you realize that he was always tense.

(Unless he was talking to you.)

“I thought today was an office day?” You asked, a bit of a disappointment clouding your voice.

Hawks just gave a small smile, fully plastering back on his heroic facade, “Duty calls. Lots happening lately.”

He flicked his visor back over his eyes, slid you your normalized wad of cash, and whisked himself out the door, immediately taking to the skies from the streets.

He’s in a bit of a hurry.

He... didn’t even say goodbye. 

Wonder what’s happening?

 Truthfully, Keigo was a bit startled by the notice on his pager. The whole reason he’d started patrolling the particular neighborhood the tea shop was in was because there was word of a villain syndicate working nearby. It hardly seemed right for the neighborhood, but Keigo knew that villains hid anywhere. Whatever they were planning was still relatively shrouded, but it was clear that it needed to be treated delicately. That particular neighborhood was rife with pedestrians, businesses, and homes and any sort of villainous activity had the possibility of reaping a heavy amount of collateral damage. Keigo and the Commission had been on their guards about it, but things had been steadily becoming more intense over the past few weeks. 

Plopping himself on a rooftop, Keigo took up residence to stake out his newest lead, watching figures and silhouettes in a nearby office building.

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 Funnily enough, the rest of your week went horribly. Just downright shitty. You figured at some point, things would let up, brighten, but they didn’t. Each day brought some new, personal calamity. 

The first was a trip to the emergency vet with one of your cats after she swallowed a hair tie. An expensive vet bill later, she was perfectly healthy, but you remained wracked with anxiety. 

Another day, the owner of the tea shop paid a visit to chew you out for your newest tea blends not fulfilling his picky seasonal requests. You were relieved it had nothing to do with how Hawks monopolized your time. Still, getting yelled at easily within earshot of both coworkers and customers made your insides twists. 

The final small disaster was when a particularly asshole-ish customer chucked a hot drink all over you and your cute white sweater. One of the younger openers had been dealing with a difficult patron and an incorrect order, nothing out of the ordinary. When you tried to step in and de-escalate the situation, the man ripped the lid from his cup and splashed you with the burning liquid. You held back any sounds of pain even as your skin stung like hell when you offered to remake his drink.

One of your managers luckily allowed you to go home early. Thank god.

By the end of your shitty week, you fell into your apartment and just cried. White sweater stained and day feeling fairly ruined, you let yourself have a good, solid sobbing session to just release how terrible things had been. 

It would pass, you knew. But it sucked at the moment.

It also didn’t help that Hawks had been particularly absent after running out the last time he came around. He’d still managed to shoot you a funny text or two, but mostly, it was silence from him. You rationalized it by reminding yourself of how quickly he flew off at the end of his last visit, hero business forever more pertinent than you and the shop.

You reminded yourself to keep yourself grounded in Hawks obvious impermanence, even if you were starting to get used to (and really like) having the hero around. 

You decided that your Friday evening would be good. You treated yourself to a hot shower, noting with a hiss the pink scalded skin that covered your chest from your collar bones to just below your breasts. You threw on a facemask and uncorked a bottle of wine you had been saving for a rainy day. 

You clicked on one of your favorite shows, an older cartoon that brought you consistent comfort in times like those. Curled up with a knit throw blanket and your healthy cats, it did help soothe the burns, mental and physical.

That is until you got a bit too drunk on red wine and it turned into sad drunk.  

So, you made your way to the roof.

You weren’t fucked up beyond belief, despite the fact that you were towing an open bottle of red in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the left. The cold would sober you up, along with the nicotine. You hoped it would force you out of your head. 

Upon throwing open the door to your apartment complex’s rooftop, you were made very aware of its wintertime disuse. The gardens that grew during the summer were snowcovered. The chairs and tables for lounging were in a similar state. You didn’t mind. 

The view was still nice. 

You set down your bottle and zipped up your coat. Quickly, you brushed off the flurries from a rickety lawn chair and plopped yourself down. You threw on some music from your phone, playing some sweet, old songs that made your chest ache when you needed it to.

The city stretched in front of you, beyond the rooftop. You didn’t live in a particularly wealthy district, but there was no shortage of dazzling neon and bright street lights dotting the ground below. You watched how the rest of the city stretched far beyond your little pocket, still gleaming with multi-hued lighting and dazzling in the wash of the crescent moon.

You took a swig, fishing for your self-dubbed ‘sad cigarettes’ and lit up. With your exhale, you watched as smoke lazily swirled away, carried by the soft winter wind. If you were any less drunk, you’d be freezing.

A shadow, winged, fell across the snow. 

“You know, I get nervous when I see pretty girls on rooftops with bottles in their hands,” You jumped at the voice, whipping your head to the source.

Hawks stood, scarlet wings fanned outwards, on the lip of the rooftop. 

Your eyes widened.

You took another sip.

He gave an affectionate laugh, jumping down into the area where you were seated.

 Keigo had just been out on his normal, nightly patrol. The leak had been correct and he’d been stealthily tracking the villains while completing the rest of his hero duties. He was able to laugh off his exhaustion, but it was starting to eat him. Several cans of coffee a day was hardly doing it for him. He hid his sleepiness and aches well, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult. All the same, his typical roles had to be fulfilled. 

He was surprised to see you, all alone on a rooftop with a lit cigarette between your fingers. Keigo let himself be surprised before noting that ‘ yes, you definitely probably live in this apartment building and you’re just outside to smoke’, but the sudden jolt of panic he felt was crushingly unbearable. 

Mostly because it was personally protective and not heroically instinctual and he couldn’t start acknowledging that aspect of his feelings for you. Not yet. 

Keigo walked towards you, asking, watching you blink blearily at him “You doing alright?” 

Eyes downcast, you shrugged, “We all feel shitty sometimes. Just depends on how you cope, ‘ya know?”

“And how do you cope, (Y/N)?” Keigo asked, pausing before brushing off a chair. “Mind if I join you for a bit? I could use a second to rest my wings.”

You nodded, almost offering him the bottle, but quickly pulling it back to your chest before taking another inhale. Offering a pro hero alcohol while he was pretty obviously working seemed like a bad move, even in your tipsy state. 

“Most of the time, I watch nice stuff and distract myself, like most people, ya’ know?” You exhaled as you smoked, relishing the nicotine buzz. “Sometimes, though, I just feel extra shitty and need to extra cope.”

Hawks hummed in agreement, sitting back in the chair. His wings were folded up and over its back, the longest feathers trailing in the small snowdrift behind him.

“Do you get cold, being in the sky all the time?” You asked, eyes going cloudy as you stared up at the lights of the city and higher into the sky. 

“Most of the time,” Hawks chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head, “I’ve told you this, angel. It was one of our first conversations.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, mouth open with a hearty laugh.

 It made Keigo’s eyes water a little. He blamed it on the wind. 

 “I’m silly, I can’t believe I forgot,” You nestled back into your chair, tracing the lines between constellations. “It’s the whole reason you came to the teashop in the first place.” 

Your voice resonated, focus foggy. Somewhere else, old memories played in your mind, recounting your first few meetings with Hawks.

A warm, small smile stretched across your face as you traced the stars. 

 Keigo watched, enraptured. You were cute, especially like this. All bundled up in your winter coat, half-zipped. There was a lot less stress in your shoulders than he normally saw at the shop, especially as your thoughts were so far away.

He wanted nothing more than to commit the contours and shadows of your face in the white moonlight to memory, never forgotten in the blissful cold. 

 You interrupted his thoughts so beautifully.

 “Thanks for talking to me.” You took a sip from your bottle just after speaking, half-drowning your words, but Keigo caught each one. “I appreciate you.” 

“P-pardon?” Keigo couldn’t tell if you caught his stutter, but even if you did, you didn’t show it. The comment felt like a jab to his jaw, half-knocking the wind of him and turning him into a filthy masochist. He’d take any whiplash if it meant you saying such kindnesses to him. 

How could you just say shit like that?

What exactly did you mean by that?

Why did your attention make his legs tremble?

You turned your attention from the night sky to Hawks, something like uncertainty bubbling in your chest, “I appreciate you, ya’ know? Coming by the tea shop still, teasing each other and shit, you humoring me—”

Hawks interrupted you, feathers tensing at his back.

“I’m not humoring you.” Hawks deadpanned, staring at you oddly seriously. The yolks of his eyes seemed even more intense in the neon and night light. 

“You’re... not?” 

There was utter disbelief in your voice, accented by the way your jaw was half-opened.

Hawks shook his head, standing in emphasis, feathers fluttering as he did, “ No, angel. Not at all. I visit because...”

I like you.

“Because I like your drinks.”

  Because you make me feel good in a way I’ve never felt.

“You’re fun to talk to, too. Added perk.”

  Because I want to hear your voice when I breathe and when I die. 

“I enjoy it, you know? You're fun.”

 Some feeling in your chest, something full of hope, crushed itself and compacted to the point of pain. You sniffled at his admission, blaming it on the cold. In a fucked up, sad way, part of you was so relieved. 

He likes the shop. He likes your drinks. 

He’s around because he wants to be. 

But not because you’re special to him. 

 His words reminded you of your insignificance in Hawks’s life. No matter how much you craved his attention and words, and more recently found yourself staring at the plumpness of his lips and the curve of his cupids bow and daydreaming about how much you wanted to lean over the tea shop's counter and kiss the constant, teasing smile off his face—

But.

You don’t matter that much to him.

Sure, he likes you, but he’ll never feel the same way about you. 

 You made the decision then to make the most out of Hawk’s affections and sweet words. You’d take what you could get, even if it was fleeting and probably  eventually heartbreaking. It seemed smart, to refuse to get your hopes up for someone so unattainable.

 You let out a shaking sigh, “Thank you, Hawks. I appreciate you coming around. You really light up my day.”

 Keigo saw the fall of your face and bottled himself up. Shoved down everything. Fuck his feeling, fuck how he felt about you, this was all fucking terrifying. It was getting to be too much and he had to try and control himself.

Just like he’d been taught so well.

He was just so happy to be around you. He could squash his feelings, even if they were fairly obviously somewhat mutual. God knows that he didn’t know how to handle anything like that.

On the gods, his pager beeped.

 “Duty calls?” You said, standing up yourself and brushing off the stray snowflakes. 

“Seems so.” Hawks sighed, nodding, “Thanks for letting me rest here. It was good to see you, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You waved goodbye as Hawks disappeared as quickly as he came, launching himself from the roof with the heavy sound of wing beats. 

Soaring away, Keigo risked a final look at you. He swore he saw tears in your eyes.

He forcibly repressed his feelings, reminding himself that your company, words, and quirk-made beverages were more than enough. The flutter in his chest when he thought of you wouldn’t rest, but he could learn to ignore it. 

 On the roof of your apartment, you felt fatigue in your bones and wetness on your cheeks. You ignored both in favor of smoking another cigarette, soft, melancholy music being your only constant, reliable companion. 

You reminded yourself that he, Hawks, was a temporary fixture, more flighty than most and liked you just enough and for surface-level reasons. You could take that. You’d do anything to be around him more, even if it never amounted to anything. 

You, just as Keigo did, pressed down any larger feelings.

 (The thing about feelings, though, that neither of you was very good at remembering, was that they don’t go away. Sure, you can let them go, but that takes time or a practiced mind!)

(When you take feelings, big, aching, soaking feelings and shove them down into the deepest parts of you, they just tend to make you bleed. The ‘hidden’ feelings color your blood as it spills, even if you don’t notice when it falls and its change in hue.)

(One can only hope that both Keigo and you listened instead of lied.)

 Both of your hearts ached, and neither of you fully understood why.

[cassandraclare]

Jessa/Wessa ship wars

teenagefunbouquet said:Isn't it enough Tessa&Jem got a wedding comic, two kids (and you say more), a lifetime as the only mates for each other and your most explicitly written sex scene After the Bridge? Wessa are the most popular and we get nothing, every wessa moment is shared with Jem while Jessa get to be alone, Wessa fans got no "anticipation" like jessa fans are getting now everyday you give them a book in jem's pov or a short story or a new kid. it feels like wessa is dead.

I’ll be interested in people’s thoughts on this. (I left the username as is since it’s a blank account, probably created to ask this question, so no one’s really getting hurt in this minor drama.) Most of my long and somewhat crabbish post is under the read more.

First, let me reply with the obvious, which is the Jessa rebuttal: “Isn’t it enough that Will gets to be Tessa’s first love and Jem only gets to be her second? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa had sex when they thought Jem was dead? Isn’t it enough that there’s a whole series about Will and Tessa’s kids but we only find out that Jem and Tessa had a kid in a short story? Isn’t enough that Jem and Tessa have spent half their relationship looking for a kid who’s related to Will, not either of them? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa got two biological kids they got to spend eighteen years raising and Jem and Tessa only get like two years with Kit? Jessa are the most popular, but half the stories in Ghosts of the Shadow Market happened while Will was still alive! And now Wessa fans are getting content every day and have two more books of Wessa being married and doing cute stuff to look forward to. Every day they’re getting a special edition of a book with a whole short story about their wedding. It feels like Jessa is dead.”

Not that I believe any of that either: I think both complaints are equally silly and selfish. But they are complaints rooted in the same logic, which is “My ship is the best and most popular, and every time I see something that in my mind supports the ship I hate I feel angry and diminished, and rather than perhaps examining those feelings I’d like to vent them on other fans and the creator.”

So. My feeling about this is: I am sad to see there is still some kind of a ship war here. As far as I am concerned...

the Wessa/Jessa ship war ended in 2012 when we found out Tessa loved both boys equally and would spend a lifetime with both of them. The end. Quibbling about irrelevant details like how many kids each couple has subsequently or examining closely the explicitness of their sex scenes seem bizarre and pointless. It has nothing to do with how books and stories are made, or how they work, or what functions they serve. At this point it’s like you decided your favorite football team could definitely beat another team, and you spend all your time obsessing about it even though they will never play against the other team because the other team is a hockey team.

When I see people say that “Wessa got” something or “Jessa got” something, it makes me cringe. It reduces stories that are about other things, often friendship, to being about a ship war I am not a part of. (Not every story or book in which a couple appears is a story about that ship. Sometimes they’re just grouting their shower or fighting a demon.) Wessa and Jessa are not dueling pop stars fighting over who gets to perform on the Tonight Show. In fact, they are not fighting at all, which is part of the underlying problem. People are used to love triangles where two guys are fighting over a girl and are jealous of each other. Will and Jem are not jealous of each other. They are not fighting over Tessa. To believe that it lessens Will and Tessa’s relationship that Jem is around and alive, or that it makes Jem and Tessa’s relationship better that Will is dead, is a fundamental misunderstanding of these characters and the story they are in. You are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole, and it will cause you endless misery and frustration.

For instance, claiming that “every Wessa moment is spent with Jem.” Well, that’s ridiculous. Obviously, Will and Tessa spent an enormous amount of quality time alone together in TID. (Otherwise, you would have no investment in this relationship in the first place. There’s a reason you’re attached to it.) Jem did not attend their wedding. He is around in Chain of Gold mostly in his role as a Silent Brother: tending the sick, helping James, bringing news. He is not around during the scene where Will and Tessa make love, or when they kiss and cuddle in the drawing room, grossing out their kids. (I had to fight very very hard to retain even one scene of Will and Tessa alone: in a normal YA book, you would never see a sex scene between the parents, from their point of view.)

The problem is not that there is no “Wessa content” to “anticipate.” The majority of Wessa fans are happy to enjoy stuff like the wedding story or the Wessa moments in TLH. The problem is that the person asking this question will only accept a TLH book in which Jem isn’t mentioned at all as “Wessa content,” and since that would be a fundamental and appalling betrayal of the story and characters — something I would never write and never consider — they will forever feel they are not getting what they deserve.

Asker: if you think that it’s somehow better for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, that they “get” something that Will and Tessa don’t by having had something awful happen to them, then I do not even know how to begin to speak to you. What has always been meaningful to me about Will, Jem and Tessa is that they all loved each other equally. If that is not the case, then they are not people I am interested in writing about. If that being the case makes you not want to read about them, then you are free to stop — please do — but the story is not going to become something other than it is because you feel your ship is the “most popular.” (Which it is not in my experience, the ships are about equal, and I don’t know why it would matter if it was.)

In After the Bridge, which is not an explicit sex scene but rather a short story that contains sex (they exist!) Will is mentioned thirty-two times. Here’s an example:

“Jem swallowed, running his fingers up and down the blade. “He had only just died,” he said. She didn’t need to ask who he was. There was really only one He when it was the two of them speaking. “I was afraid. I saw what happened to the other Silent Brothers. I saw how they hardened over time, lost the people they had been. How as the people who loved them and who they loved died, they became less human. I was afraid that I would lose my ability to care. To know what this knife meant to Will and what Will meant to me.”

If you think Will isn’t present in Jem and Tessa’s relationship just because he’s dead, you’re wrong. He’s mentioned constantly. (And if someone thought that made it not Jessa content, I would have the same discussion with them: If Jem and Tessa didn’t care about Will, I wouldn't care about them.)

As long as there has been fandom, there have been ship wars. Social media has added a new dimension to that, which is what you’re doing here: the ability to run to the creator and complain, hoping they’ll side with you or give you what you want.

Here’s the problem: it’s really really toxic to have been involved in a clearly vicious ship battle for years. It will destroy utterly your ability to read or enjoy the canon you’re arguing about. I’ve been there, I’ve had friends be there. If you think it’s a point for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, if you went into Last Hours thinking Jem wouldn’t be in it, that is a sign of a profound detachment from the actual reality of the canon books. You are not interacting with what I am writing or the characters as they are. You are interacting with the fight you are having. That is why your discourse has spun so far off from the books it no longer resembles what is actually happening in them, and demands such extreme gestures to be appeased — like leaving Jem out of Lost Book when he’s actually from the city the characters are visiting, or cutting him from Last Hours even though it would be unrealistic, cruel, and a disappointment to the vast majority of readers.

Dismissing every single moment Will and Tessa have together in TLH because Jem is alive somewhere and it’s bothering you is a recipe for you to be miserable. Clearly you didn’t enjoy the Wessa wedding, or the Will and Tessa love scenes in Chain of Gold. Clearly you consider Jem and Tessa having children not to be a reason for happiness but rather bitter rage even though it is totally irrelevant to Will and Tessa’s past relationship. The only thing that would be satisfactory would be a rewrite of Clockwork Princess in which Jem was run over by a tank and Will and Tessa didn’t care and were happy and got married and we never had to hear about Jem again. But because that would require time travel and a rewrite of Will and Tessa as vile assholes, that is not a thing you are going to get. If you are determined to always be miserable about the reality of what this story is, than the only result of that is that you will always be miserable.

There is never going to be a winner of this love triangle. It isn’t that story. No amount of anything I do is ever going to change that: no short stories I write, or content I produce, or books or sex scenes or longform poems about either couple will change the fact that both Will and Jem ended up with Tessa and she loves them equally. If you want a “somebody wins” kind of love triangle, there are other books that will provide that for you. These will never be those books.

So why did you write this long screed, Cassie, the rest of you might be wondering, and fairly. Three reasons. One is that there are other questions that are carbon copies of this one (as in, written by the same person/small group of people) cluttering up my inbox, and I want to put a stop to the idea that this kind of thing is going to be acknowledged as a valid comment or complaint. It’s not. Second, we have all been driven bananas by quarantine and I am no exception. The third is that this is the last time I am going to address this kind of ship-fight-disguised-as-question. Any further demands for me to favor one Tessa ship over another will be responded to with a link to this post. In the end I’m hoping this will be a time saver once we’re all allowed outside again.

[ipromptography]

I’m sure most people are aware that FFXVI’s announcement has brought with it an onslaught of negativity so I wanted to do two things:

1) Remember to smile! Love what you want to love and don’t let anyone tell you you’re not allowed to.

2) I’ve written something of a love letter. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion, and this is mine.

It’s 9pm on Wednesday 16 September, a mouthful of pizza has near been launched to the other side of the room. I’d opened this stream merely out of curiosity, only to have the Square Enix logo and giant yellow chickens hurled towards me the instant it begun.

I am absolutely off the shits for approximately the next five hours. I drive my unfalteringly patient significant other up the wall over it. I have never known anyone put up with my bullshit quite as well as him, but I really do think I tested this ability that night.

The next day, I’m still on a high. I hop on to Twitter only to see that Final Fantasy Fifteen is trending. Before I’d even plucked up the courage to look at the hashtag, I knew what waited beyond it, and it was that unsettling, sickly feeling in my stomach that inspired me to write this in the first place.

This game has been part of my life since the day of its release. While my first experience with it wasn’t quite ideal, it was the second, my playthrough of it, that singlehandedly made an impact on my existence more so than any other piece of media.

I don’t have a definitive number of hours spent playing this game across different platforms, but it is absolutely in the four digits. Throughout that time, there’s not been a single moment I didn’t enjoy it (apart from that time Prompto kept getting shot off the snowmobile and I was foaming at the mouth).

Of course, were it not for this blog, I would never have racked up that much time. This community, the people that love this game, drove me to keep loading up the game time and time again, playing the story over and over, taking thousands of pictures of these characters to share.

The purpose of this waffle I’m writing is not to fight people’s opinions, or to try and argue that this game is perfect. I simply wanted to share my personal experience with this game and the happiness it has brought me.

Final Fantasy XV was my first game of the series, and I am absolutely not ashamed to say that.  

As my first playthrough came to an end, I remember just how potent it was hearing the same song we’d heard as we pushed the Regalia towards Hammerhead. The same cheery dialogue that had started it all playing once more, beckoning me to begin a constant cycle that I’m not sure at this point will ever end.

After bracing that same ending over half a dozen times, it never fails to bring back that heart-shattering grief I feel, but at the same time, I feel an overwhelming amount of love for it all. Yes, this game has flaws, but they’re so minor for me in comparison to what makes it brilliant that I barely noticed them.

For me, it’s the little things. The immersion. I’m there with them. If Noctis says he’s too hot, you’re damn right I’m going into the gear menu to take his jacket off. If Gladio’s sneezing in the rain, I’ll think about putting his top back on.

It’s the tiny little details – the sighs, the yawns, the expressions, the exchanges between them. All four of them have such a connection between them that’s there right from the beginning of the game. It’s what makes the story, the ending, the whole premise of this game so powerful. They become so real to the player, developing this incredible sense of empathy for all of them in the game’s most difficult moments.

I never tire of these things, running laps around Eos, finding new places to take photos of our protagonists, admiring their every detail.

I’ve seen them called every negative adjective under the sun, picking holes in their personalities. Ansel opens you up to a whole other world that you don’t necessarily see in a normal playthrough. They all smile, they all laugh, they all show emotion. Not one of them is “boring” or “annoying”. I could witter on for days with what I love about each of them, but I will save that for another day, and I certainly won’t be leaving any heroines or villains out of that either.

There are times that I feel incredibly biased, and I am. I’ve defended every decision made about this game, never questioned it, I’ve accepted what it is and continued to love the game unconditionally. Perhaps that makes me a bad gamer, or just an idiot.

I loved going to the cinema to watch Kingsglaive the night before the game’s release. Even though, at the time, I wasn’t particularly excited for the game, I still found it exciting. It was there I was handed my very first piece of XV merchandise – a card holder. It’s been with me for four years. It’s travelled to the other side of the world with me. It’s filthy and it’s been taped back together twice but that’s just how precious this game is to me. I’d be more devastated about losing that card holder than the debit card it holds.

I loved learning a little more about each of our characters through the Brotherhood anime. It was refreshing to have content in a different medium, one where we were given rich dialogue and a deeper sense of their personalities.

I had no issue with paying more for the DLC, each had an extra two hours of content, unlockables and extras. It was hardly breaking the bank.

Even when the later DLC was cancelled, I didn’t get angry. I didn’t hate anyone for it. I understood it was a necessary decision for business reasons, and the people behind this game had already given us so much. Even when they gave us an alternative, the same content in a different form, the “fans” still threw their toys out of the pram.

To me, this game isn’t incomplete. It never was. I’ve always been happy with what we’ve been given and delighted that they would offer us even more.

People will compare this game to the next – they’ll either call it the game that Final Fantasy XV never was or shove it into the corner with their other gripes and disappointments, huffing and puffing until Square Enix give each and every individual the exact game that they want.

Whatever happens, XV will always be the game that stood by me in some of my worst moments. I hope that in years to come, people will pick it up for the first time and enjoy it for what it is, experiencing the same things that I love about it. And I hope those of us that really love this game will stick around a little longer too.

To everybody who worked incredibly hard to bring this game into existence, thank you.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Raindrops, snowflakes, sunshine, part 4

Summary: Catelyn meets a northern boy in her algebra class during one of London’s many rainy days. Initially she doesn’t expect much, but this boy brings her a surprising amount of sunlight.

@leialannister and I discussed Scandinavian Starks and I realized I really wanted to write a fic so that’s what I did. Swedes depicted in media makes this Swede happy, and NedCat also makes me happy so why not combine it and publish him for everyone to see?

A sigh escaped her when she finally put the cookies in the oven. That had taken a lot longer than she had expected it to. She glanced at the clock, maybe she would have to message Ned and tell him that she would be a bit late.

“What are you baking?”

Elia came into the kitchen and opened a cupboard to take out a glass.

“Chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter” Catelyn replied.

“Any chance I can get one when they’re finished?”

“Absolutely. I made too many anyway.”

Either she was baking for a country or for one small child, she could never make anything in the right amount. That day she had apparently decided to bake for all of London. But that was good, then she could leave some at home and bring some to Ned. Taking up her phone she quickly wrote him a message about that she would be a bit late. She had planned on starting to bake earlier, but then there had been some obstacles. The obstacles were that she had promised Cersei to paint her nails and do her hair for her date. Which she didn’t regret, Cersei had looked awesome when she was done.

“Can you make too many cookies?” Elia asked.

She opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice.

“I can only bring so many to Ned without looking like a crazy person.”

“Who’s Ned?”

Had she never told Elia his actual name? She guessed not. He was known as the Swede in their household, Ashara and Cersei exclusively called him by that name.

“The Swede.”

“Ah, I guess your date went well, then” Elia said, smiling.

“It wasn’t a date, we’re not dating.”

“Whatever you say. Ash told me you wouldn’t talk much about it, so I figured it didn’t go well but if you’re baking for him it can’t have been too bad.”

“It wasn’t bad at all, he’s really nice. I like him.”

“So why not date him?”

Catelyn sat in a chair at the kitchen table while Elia poured her juice.

“Because I’m not interested in him in that way. He’s cute, I can admit that, but no.”

Elia just shrugged and put the juice back into the fridge before leaving the kitchen again. Catelyn wasn’t baking because she was interested in him, she had just been walking around feeling guilty about that she had nothing to give in return for him teaching her to draw. So she had decided that the least she could do was bring him some homemade cookies. It didn’t feel enough, but it was something. She started gathering up all the things she had used so that she could clean them, but just after she had filled the sink with water her phone started buzzing. She cleaned her hands and walked to take her phone, expecting it to be Ned, but instead her uncle’s name was on the screen.

“Hello, Uncle” she said.

She had been calling him twice a day all week to find out what that phone call from Edmure had been about, but he hadn’t answered her. She had almost believed he had got into an accident, but her father had assured her that Uncle Brynden was just fine. He hadn’t known what it was about though, and he hadn't known why Brynden wasn't answering his phone.

“Little Cat, good to hear your voice!”

She put the phone on speaker and picked up the dish brush, beginning to scrub away remains of cookie dough.

“You could have heard my voice much earlier if you had taken my calls” she responded.

“My phone died and I lost it, but my husband found it behind a shelf earlier today so now I could call you” Brynden said.

Catelyn had to keep herself from laughing.

“How did it end up behind a shelf?”

“Believe me, I would also like to know that.”

“Alright. Edmure said you wanted to know if I would be home for Christmas, can I ask why you wanted to know that? You know I always come home for Christmas.”

“I thought of visiting you soon if not, but now when you’re coming home for Christmas I can wait until spring.”

None of her family members had come to visit her in London, she had just gone back home. Which made sense, but she still wanted to show them her life there. She would have insisted he come before Christmas if she had not had an exam coming up. She wouldn’t have much time to spare, and if he was coming to London she actually wanted to be able to see him and do things.

“You’ll have to promise you’ll come this spring. I would love to finally get to show you how I have it here.”

“I promise. Might bring Edmure too, the boy is eager to see London.”

Edmure had never been to London. When she thought of it she didn’t think he had ever been outside of Ireland.

“You should bring Edmure. It’s about time he gets to see something different.”

“A shame it’s London and not a good city.”

She didn’t like Britain, and she hated what they had done to her country. What they had put her people through. But she had nothing against London in particular. It was a okay place to live and she had made great friends there.

“London isn’t bad, he’ll like it.”

“Of course he will, the boy has no taste.”

“He’s a child” Catelyn chuckled.

“He’ll always be like this. You're a lot like your younger self, I can still see much of little Catelyn Tully in you.”

“Well, you still call me Little Cat so I figured that.”

She stopped what she was doing when her Uncle didn’t answer her. She waited a few seconds to see if he would, but her phone was silent.

“Hello?” she called.

Then she heard Brynden’s voice. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, he clearly wasn’t talking to her. Had to be his husband, he probably had to go. She didn’t have time for a long phone call anyway, so that didn't bother her at all.

“The husband insists it’s time for dinner” he informed her. “So this is farewell for now.”

“There’s no need to talk like it’s the 18th century and you’re going on an adventure at sea, just say goodbye like a normal person.”

“Life is a lot more fun if you see it as an adventure. Therefore I’m telling you farewell for now. Until next time, Little Cat.”

A smile appeared on her face.

“Goodbye, Uncle.”

The phone clicked as Brynden ended the call. Catelyn finished the dishes in silence, listening to the music coming from the living room and Ashara and Elia’s laughter. Often she dreamed of getting her own place, but in moments like those she really liked sharing a flat. Despite that it didn’t have a balcony. She took the cookies out of the oven to let them cool before she would put some in a jar for Ned. And as expected the two other women swept in like vultures.

“Don’t touch them, you’ll burn yourselves” Catelyn warned as she turned her back on the cookies to see if she could find a jar.

She was sure if that she had at least one somewhere in the back of a cupboard. Behind all that other crap they never used. She dragged a chair over and stepped up on it to be able to reach the top shelf.

“Ouch, fuck, goddamnit!”

Catelyn didn’t have to turn around to know that Ashara was jumping around, holding her burned hand to her chest. Her first words were followed by a sentence in Arabic that Catelyn strongly suspected just consisted of more swear words. Elia was laughing and a moment later the tap was running.

“Oh my poor darling” Elia chuckled.

“Told you” Catelyn said calmly.

To her triumph she found a jar. It was ugly as sin, the psychedelic flower pattern was enough to give her a headache, but it was what she had and it was a lot better than nothing.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think they were so fucking hot!” Ashara howled.

“I just took them out of the oven, what did you expect?”

“Not this!”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time it happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Every time she baked either Cersei or Ashara burned a hand. No matter how many times she warned them of the heat.

“Leave the kitchen and come back in fifteen minutes when they have cooled down a bit, I promise they’ll still be here.”

“Sounds like something someone who’s planning to take the cookies away would say.”

“Just go.”

Ashara pulled a face at her before leaving the room closely followed by her girlfriend. Finally, inner peace. Half an hour later Catelyn left with half of the cookies. She had a suspicion of that the rest would be gone by the time she was back. If Cersei came home before her they would definitely be gone. But she was happy that liked what she made them. That was all she could contribute when it came to food. She didn’t even bother swearing over that the lift was still broken. She just took the stairs. It had already been dark for two hours when she stepped outside the building. She hated it. Autumn was nice, things were very pretty during autumn, but the cold and the darkness she could do without. Catelyn had been surprised when he asked if she wanted to come over to his place. They had been talking about meeting up again, and Catelyn had assumed maybe they would go for another walk or something like it. But then Ned had said that she could come to him if she wanted to, so that he could honor his promise. She was breaking a lot of safety rules when it came to meeting new people by seeing him in a private area so soon, so she hoped he wasn’t a serial killer. She had given both Cersei and Ashara his address so if she went missing they would know where to start looking. But she was very sure of that she would be fine, he was a good person. She was still nervous when she arrived at his building though, but for a completely different reason. She didn’t know what reason, but she sure was nervous. What was up with her? Why couldn’t she just go over to her friend’s place without feeling like her heart would make it’s way out of her chest. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. All of it was ridiculous. The building’s door required a code to be opened. She didn’t know the code, Ned hadn’t said anything about that. She took up her phone and texted him.

Code?

His answer came just a second later. It made her happy to know he had been waiting for her.

I’ll be down in a minute

Less than a minute later she saw him come down the stairs through the glass panels in the door.

“Hey” he said after having opened the door.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“No need to apologize. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

They began walking up the stairs.

“The house doesn’t have a lift” Ned said. “Sucks when you have groceries.”

Catelyn couldn’t hold back a smile at that. The house had four floors, how bad could it be? She guessed it was sort of a problem if he lived on the top floor, but that was still less than what she was used to.

“What floor do you live on?”

“The third.”

“Not to belittle your struggles or anything, but I live on the sixth floor and we have a lift, but it never works. That sucks.”

“Wow, I take back everything I said.”

When they reached the third floor there were three doors. One to the left, one to the right, and one right ahead of them. He opened the right one and then gestured for her to enter before him. He held the door open for her as she walked inside and she found herself in a small hall. Only a shoe rack and a coat hanger fit in there. Past that was a small flat, consisting of only one room and door that lead to what Catelyn guessed was a bathroom. Directly to her left was a very clean kitchen, across from it, on her right was a neatly made bed. Ahead of her on the right was a couch and a TV, and across of that was a round table with five chairs around it. On almost every flat surface there was a plant, on the window sills more than one, giving life to the otherwise white and grey room. A lamp above the table was on, but apart from that the place was only dimly lit up by smaller table lamps and fairy lights. All the walls had some sort of art on them, ranging from sketches to full paintings, the only exception was where the bookshelf was. The bookshelf didn’t seem as organized as the rest of the flat, she found no pattern, and books that didn’t fit in it had been placed in piles on top of it. The scent of coffee and something sweeter filled the air. Maybe it came from one or several of the flowers, maybe it was the laundry detergent he used, maybe it was something completely different. She didn’t know, but she liked it. It wasn’t large, but it felt so much like a home. One was immediately hit with the feeling that someone had made that small area their own. She had been in homes where it was clear that the owner only used it as a place to sleep, but so was very much not the case with Ned’s home. And best of all, he had a balcony. She would have killed for a balcony.

“Welcome to my humble home” he said, closing the door behind them.

“I love it” she responded in complete honesty.

“It turned out a lot better than I initially thought, it didn’t look very nice when I moved in.”

“One has to trust the process. And that balcony can’t have made things worse.”

“It faces an alleyway, the view is terrible.”

She didn’t care what the view was, it was the balcony itself that made her happy. Though of course she wanted her future balcony to have a nice view if it wasn’t too much to ask for. She put her bag down, and took off her shoes and her coat. She liked the shoe rack, she would have to raise the question of getting one for her own home with Cersei and Ashara.

“We don’t have to draw if you don’t want to, but I thought I would at least present the option" he said when he went inside before her.

She noticed that there was a bunch of papers and pens on the table. She also noticed that Oden was sleeping underneath it. She hadn’t seen him at first, but she smiled when she did. She didn’t think she had ever smiled at a dog.

“I’m eager to learn every little thing you have to teach me.”

“Amazing, where would you like to start?”

A class where she got to make her own curriculum, how nice.

“You said you’re good at drawing people, right? Can you teach me to draw a face?”

He sat by the table and pulled out the chair on his right.

“That shouldn’t be impossible.”

Catelyn sat next to him and they began. She believed he had said that he wasn’t a very good teacher or something close to that the previous time they had met, but she heavily disagreed. With patience he guided her through everything, redid stuff half a hundred times just so she could see it and understand. After a while the table was covered in drawings of facial features and faces from different angles. It was easy to tell which ones were his and which were hers, but she wanted to believe she was improving. And Ned said she was, he came with much encouragement. But she came to a point where it didn’t feel like it. She had trouble getting lines straight, it looked very shaky.

“I can’t get it straight” she sighed in frustration when she tried for what had to be the tenth time to get a nose right.

Ned studied her drawing and her hand for a moment before answering.

“You need to relax your hand, you’re too tense. It makes you shake.”

“I am relaxing my hand!”

He put his pen down and scooted his chair closer to her. At first she didn’t understand what he was doing but then he put his left hand over hers, gently helping her adjust her hold in order to relax her hand. Maybe she should have been focused on trying to get it right, but she was mostly focused on keeping her breathing steady. He was close to her. He was very close to her. She could smell his cologne. And he was essentially holding her hand. She kept her eyes downwards, tried to do what he wanted her to do, but she was positive her heart was going to stop.

“There you go” he said. “Try now.”

“Okay” she said, hearing that her voice was a higher pitch than usual.

She hoped he didn’t notice. She tried to keep her hand steady despite that she was shaking a lot more than she had been before.

“It looks better now, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Both of them jumped in their chairs when the door opened. In stepped a man who somewhat resembled Ned, they had the same hair color and the same facial features, but he was taller. And very attractive. Catelyn had to stop herself from looking at him too much and instead turned her gaze to the dog he had with him, another German shepherd, who seemingly didn’t have Oden’s calm temper. He pulled on his leash, wanting to come over to where they sat. She hoped he would stay right where he was with that dog, she had a feeling of that she wouldn’t like it as much as she liked Oden. Oden immediately left his spot at their feet and walked to lie down in a corner of the room, clearly wanting nothing to do with the other dog. Catelyn realized that she had instinctively tensed up, so she took a deep breath and forced her shoulders down. It was just a dog. Except for that it wasn’t. It was a scary dog, and she could feel her pulse go up.

“Vad gör du här?” Ned sighed, scooting his chair away from her again.

It made a loud, scraping noise. Not like when he had came closer to her.

”Jag skrev att jag tänkte komma förbi, men du svarade inte” the man said with a shrug.

Catelyn wasn’t sure of what she was going to do, and as usual she didn’t understand a word of Swedish. She assumed he was Ned’s older brother, as they looked alike and both spoke Swedish.

“Det fanns en anledning till det” Ned said, annoyed by whatever it was that his brother had said.

But the brother didn’t seem to hear him, he instead looked at Catelyn and smiled.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again” he said.

She had never seen him before, what was he talking about?

“You must be mistaking me for someone else, we haven’t met” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed.

“I’m not mistaking you for someone else, you don’t forget hair like that. You have nice hair.”

She tried to remember when and where she could have seen him. They didn’t have class together, she would have known if she was in the same class as Ned’s brother. Had she met him at a pub? She never got drunk enough to not remember people she had met. Was he a friend of a friend? That seemed like the most plausible explanation. She would have to ask around about that.

“Thank you, I suppose, but I have to apologize, I don’t remember you.”

It was embarrassing. She didn’t believe that had ever happened to her before, she usually remembered people. Though at least she wasn’t blushing.

“Then I won’t be the one to remind you, let’s start over” he chuckled. “I’m Brandon, the better looking one. I never got your name last time so what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Men för fan, Brandon, bete dig!” Ned said firmly.

“Language, little brother” Brandon said. "And I am behaving."

She assumed Ned had told him to behave with a swearword thrown in somewhere. She didn't know which word it was though.

“He has a point, you’re being a bit of an arse. So please replace sweetheart with Catelyn next time, that’s my name.”

“That’s prettier than sweetheart anyway.”

He didn’t seem to be that sharpest knife in the drawer, it sounded like something out of a book on how to compliment women. But he was good looking, and maybe he was better after one got to know him.

“Thank you” she said once more, twirling her pen between her fingers.

“Vill du ha henne eller kan jag ta henne?” Brandon then said to Ned. “Hon är snygg.”

”Vad är det för fel på dig?” he responded in an exasperated voice. “If you didn’t want something important can you please take your dog and leave?”

“Du behöver inte bli sur” Brandon said, raising his free hand into the air.

“I’m not, but you’re being inappropriate towards my friend and Tor really upsets Oden. So can you leave and come back tomorrow?”

“Varför på engelska?”

“Because Catelyn doesn’t understand Swedish.”

“Du pratar inte med henne.”

“No, but she’s here.”

Catelyn certainly was there. She was also thoroughly confused. She had no idea about what Brandon was saying, and she had no idea about why Ned was talking about her. It almost would have been better if she didn’t understand anything at all instead of only getting bits and pieces.

“Look, I’m free tomorrow, you can come back then. Men nu skulle jag uppskatta om du lämnade oss.”

Brandon studied his brother for a moment, then he grinned.

“Absolutely. Godnatt.”

”Godnatt, Brandon.”

Brandon and his dog, who she assumed was named Tor, left and the door shut behind them. She had to do a lot of assuming as she didn't understand much. Oden stayed right where he was, his gaze fixated on the door like he was expecting Tor to break back in. She understood him.

“He’s most often not like that, I’m sorry” Ned said as he got up from his chair and walked over to sit by Oden on the floor. “I won’t excuse his behavior, but I want you to know that he can be nice.”

Oden immediately placed his head in Ned’s lap, but kept his eyes on the door.

“Mind if I sit with him for a bit?” he asked. “He gets stressed around Tor. They’re from the same litter and Tor partook in the puppy bullying that went one when they were little.”

“Puppies are so small and cute, how are they capable of bullying?” she said.

“Kids are small too, and they still bully each other.”

“I guess. Still hard to wrap your head around it. I mean I get it now, that was a scary dog, but a puppy?”

“Are you afraid of dogs?” he asked, surprised.

How could he be surprised about that? She had believed that she had clearly shown him that she was afraid of dogs.

“They have lots of sharp teeth, they make loud and sudden noises, large ones can easily kill you, it’s not really my thing. Oden is fine though, he’s very polite.”

Ned chuckled.

“More of a cat person, huh?”

Catelyn looked him dead in the eye.

“If you make one single cat pun I will get up and leave” she threatened.

“Based on the look on your face it feels like you have heard them all already.”

“I have heard them all. Multiple times. I doubt anyone can come up with a new one at this point. They aren’t worse than the fact that an ex used ‘Kitty’ as a nickname for me through.”

She had learned to accept KitKat, she would never learn to accept Kitty. She hated it, she was a grown woman and didn’t want to be referred to the same way one referred to a cute kitten. Luckily no one else had used that nickname and she thoroughly hoped it would stay that way.

“I take it you prefer just Catelyn, then?”

“Or Cat. I don’t mind Cat, it’s short and easy to spell.”

People never seemed to spell her name correctly on the first try. There were simply too many ways to spell the way her name was said. People often replaced the C with a K and threw in a couple of i’s for good measure. So sometimes it was easier to just go by Cat.

“I get it, often it’s easier to go by a shortened name.”

She snorted.

“Your name is three letters and super easy to spell, you don’t get to complain.”

Ned laughed at that.

“I always go by Ned, but it’s not actually my name. My name’s Eddard.”

So she had been right, Ned was short for something.

“It’s a nice name.”

“You said that about my dog too, so I don’t know what to believe.”

Had she? She had no memory of what she had said upon learning Oden’s name. It had been weeks since that. But he was probably right.

“You both have nice names, that’s all there is.”

“Thank you.”

She left her pen on the table and stood up.

“Do you want cookies?”

He shrugged.

“Cookies are good, but I unfortunately don’t have any. I would have got some if you had said you wanted it.”

“No worries, Eddard Stark” she said as she went to get her bag from the coat hanger. “I can supply the cookies.”

She pulled out the jar and went back to the table.

“Did you bake?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

He got up from the floor.

“I hope you don’t have any severe allergies because I really don’t want to kill you, and I also hope you like chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter because that’s what I baked.”

“Sounds amazing. Can I make you some tea to go with the cookies?”

“Absolutely.”

Catelyn sat at the table again while Ned walked to the small kitchen.

“You know you didn’t have to bake” he said as he took two mugs out of a cupboard.

“I wanted to give something back to you for inviting me into your home and trying to teach me to draw. And I’m good at baking, so I thought I would bake you something” she explained.

She picked up her pen again, once more put it to the paper and tried to get the shading on the nose right so that it didn’t look so flat. Very softly she moved the tip of the pen, and found that she managed to keep her hand steady while doing so. Maybe he had managed to get something into her head, after all.

“I really appreciate it, thank you” he said and she heard him fill a kettle with water.

“It was the least I could do.”

She stopped for a moment to look at the paper in front of her. That actually looked like a nose. It wasn’t nearly as good as what he had done, but it was the best nose she had ever managed to draw. Maybe her pride was childish, it wasn’t a big accomplishment, but she really hadn’t expected to do so well. She could feel herself smile.

“What kind of tea do you want?”

“Uhm, preferably something fruity, if you have it. I like sweet teas.”

High on the feeling of success she moved onto the eyes of the person on her paper.

“Fruity? That’s not very British of you” he responded.

“I know, it’s a conscious choice. Drives one of my flatmates mad.”

Cersei refused to drink sweet teas. She only drank black tea and Earl Grey. Nothing disgusted Catelyn more than Earl Grey. She was also sure of that Cersei only refused to drink other teas out of spite. She was a very proud Brit when it came to tea.

“Is she British?”

“Yes, a born and bred Londoner. My other flatmate is from Morocco, so the British are outnumbered in my home. She’s very strict on the tea though. We’re working on humbling her, but our attempts so far have been unsuccessful.”

“It’s very hard to humble a Brit, I’ve tried.”

“Do you have any advice for me?”

“No, because I failed in epic proportions. He’s still the same.”

She looked up at him. He stood with his back to her, pouring the hot water into the mugs. She wondered who he was talking about. She would have liked to ask, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it. Whoever it was was probably a lot like Cersei. She loved Cersei, but she sure was a handful at times. Especially when it came to her Earl Grey.

“We have a word for this in Swedish” Ned said.

“You have a word for trying to humble Brits?”

That was unreasonable and way too specific. He laughed.

“That would be ‘försöka göra en brittisk person ödmjukare’, which is a sentence and not a word, but that’s not what I meant. I meant we have a word for sitting down with someone to eat a pastry or something like it and maybe drink something.”

That mad a lot more sense.

“And what’s this word?”

“Fika. Most people do it daily. We have breaks at work for fika.”

"Is that a verb or a noun?"

"Works as both. You can fika, but you can also sit down for a fika."

“That’s brilliant, there should be an English word for that.”

“One of many things I miss from Sweden.”

She turned her gaze downwards again, but found that she didn’t have the same luck with the eyes that she had had with the nose. She tried to do what he had showed her, and she looked at everything he had drawn out for her on a different paper, but she just couldn’t get it to work.

“You’re doing very well.”

Turning her head up she found him standing right behind her, leaning forward slightly to see better. And for some reason she could once more feel her heart racing in her chest. And that time he wasn’t even touching her. What was wrong with her?

“Thank you” she said.

That time she managed to keep her voice normal, so that was always something. Ned put her mug down and sat next to her again. Catelyn opened the jar and offered him a cookie before taking one herself.

“I hope you like them.”

She raised her cookie in a cheers before taking a bite. She couldn’t know what he thought, but she was more than happy with the result. Those were some tasty cookies, if she could say so herself. And based on his reaction he seemed to like them as well.

“These are really good” he said. “Like, really, really good. Screw drawing, can you teach me to do this?”

Catelyn tried to keep herself from smiling as she had her mouth full, but found that she was unable to do so and raised a hand to hide her mouth.

“This isn’t even my best, you should taste my carrot cake. I make a killer carrot cake.”

“I love carrot cake.”

“Me too.”

He paused for a moment before smiling.

“Do you want to hear a word that’s even more brilliant, but that doesn’t exist in English?”

“Definitely, share your Swedish wisdom with me.”

“Lagom. It means just the right amount of something. Not too much and not too little. It doesn’t matter what it is, anything can be lagom.”

Her phone started buzzing and she threw a glance at it. She planned on not answering, whoever it was that demanded her attention could wait, but when she picked it up to put it on silence and saw that it was Cersei she quickly changed her mind. Cersei was out with some guy Catelyn didn’t know, and maybe something had happened or she needed an out. Helping her friend was way more important than not having a small interruption.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening, but my friend’s out and I really don’t want something to happen to her” Catelyn said before taking the phone.

“You don’t need to apologize, make sure your friend is okay.”

“Hey, is everything alright?” Catelyn said after having accepted the call.

“Yeah, it’s alright, thanks for asking. And you, are you alright?”

There was nothing in Cersei’s voice that suggested otherwise and Catelyn was instantly relieved. She was okay.

“I’m good.”

“Great, I was just wondering if you and the Swede would like to come to a Christmas party?”

“What?”

“Yeah, Robert hosts these large Christmas parties every year and he’s in the bathroom at the moment so I thought I’d call you and see if you wanted to come.”

So that was the name of her boyfriend. Robert. Catelyn would have to remember that. And if she went to the Christmas party she would get to meet him too. From nothing to both a name and an opportunity to meet him in person in a matter of just a few seconds, how nice.

“Can we talk more about it when we’re both home?” she said.

There was no need to talk about it right then, both of them had other things to do. And it wasn’t like the party would be anytime soon, there was still awhile until December, they had time to talk about it later.

“Of course, I just didn’t want to forget, you know how I am. But check with the Swede, will you?”

“I’ll check with him” Catelyn promised.

“Good, I’ll se you at home.”

“See you at home.”

Ned was quite obviously pretending not to be curious, but she saw right through it. She had noticed he wasn't very good at pretending.

“My friend’s boyfriend is having a Christmas party and she wondered if we would like to go.”

He didn’t try to hide his surprise though.

“We? As in me, too?”

“She asked for you specifically, so yeah.”

She didn’t know if it was because she wanted to meet Ned or because she didn’t want to make Catelyn feel lonely. Catelyn didn’t feel lonely. She was fine on her own and it didn’t bother her that her flat mates were in relationships.

“Unless I have something else I guess I can go.”

Catelyn smiled. Before starting to speak she realized how much she had been smiling since arriving there. He made her smile a lot, he made her feel good. She liked that about him. She liked him.

“Yay! It’ll be much more fun with you there.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of parties, and I won’t know anyone. But I can try for you.”

Oh God, he was sweet. Really really sweet. Boyfriend material. Husband material. Perhaps even father material. Catelyn wished she had been interested in him. He could try for her.

“I’m not sure I’ll know anyone either. I’ve never even met her boyfriend, and I learned his name just now. So we’ll be in it together.”

“What is his name?”

It made her think of Cersei demanding names every time Catelyn met a new person and teasing her over it. But Ned didn’t know about that, he just asked a polite question.

“Robert.”

A frown appeared on his face and that, and he turned his eyes downwards for a moment.

“Robert? Robert Baratheon?” he asked.

“I don’t know, why?”

“I used to know a Robert who hosted yearly Christmas parties, that’s all. But most likely it’s just a funny coincidence. Many people have Christmas parties, there has to be more than one Robert.”

“London is a large city and Robert is not an uncommon name, the probability of it being the same person is very small.”

She would have been able to figure out the exact probability for it being the same person if she had got a bit of time. But that was unnecessary, it wasn’t hard to understand that it was low.

“You’re the one who knows math, I’ll have to trust you.”

“It doesn’t take much math to figure that out.”

“I’ll just have to trust you in general then.”

She felt like her math skills were more trustworthy than her general knowledge on stuff, but that was unnecessary information to share.

“I hope you’re not going to regret it” she said instead.

“How nice of you.”

Ned sipped his tea and finished his cookie. Then he picked up his pen again, but instead of continuing on the drawing he had started while she did hers he took a blank paper. With an incredible speed he began moving the pen over the paper, and it left Catelyn somewhat confused as it didn't look like anything he had shown her.

“What are you drawing?” she asked curiously, stretching to see better.

He glanced up at her, his gaze focused in a way that made it seem like he was studying her. It didn’t make her wonder what he was doing any less.

“Could you be still, please?” he asked gently. “Or, well, you can move, but it would be good if you remained in the same position for a bit so that I can do a quick sketch.”

Catelyn hadn’t even reflected over how she was sitting until he said it. She had pulled her legs up and was sitting cross legged on the chair, as she always sat at home. In one hand she held her half eaten cookie, and the other was fiddling with her pen. When had she picked the pen up? None of that mattered even a little though. Because he was drawing her. And she was immensely flattered, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around why.

“Why are you drawing me?”

“I just liked the setting, and thought it would make for a good drawing” he responded casually. “Och du är vacker.”

She couldn’t be entirely sure, but she believed she had heard that last word before. And the more she thought of it, the more she grew sure of that he had said it to her before.

“You’ve said this to me before, right?”

He paused for a moment, as if he hadn’t believed she would notice that. But she had noticed. And she wanted to know what the hell it was that he was saying to her.

“Might be that I have.”

“What does it mean?” she asked, putting on her most charming smile in order to convince him to tell her.

“Nothing.”

“Then there’s no reason you can’t tell me. Come on, I thought we liked each other enough for you to translate for me.”

She couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not because of his beard, but something gave her the feeling that he was. She didn’t know exactly what that word meant, but she had somewhat of an idea about what it could be.

“If you’re flirting with me it’s okay to do so in a language we both understand.”

Not even a second after the words had left her mouth she regretted having ever been born. She shoved what remained of her cookie into her mouth before taking her mug and raising it to her lips, drinking the tea despite that it was still too hot for taking more than a little sip. She would rather burn her tongue than look at him after whatever the hell that had been. He was quiet and she wondered what was going through his mind. Did he think she was stupid? Or did he think she was flirting? Was she flirting? No, that hadn’t been flirting. She wasn’t even interested in him, he was just her friend. She liked him as a friend. And still she had heavily implied that he was flirting with her. She didn’t even know if that was what he had said. She knew no Swedish at all. Fuck.

“It means you’re beautiful” he finally said. “‘Vacker’ means ‘beautiful’.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“You probably think I’m a total weirdo right now, and I really don’t blame you, because this was very weird. And I want you to know that I would understand if you wouldn’t want to see me anymore” Ned said, and she had never heard him talk as fast as he did in that moment. “Not that we’re seeing each other in that sense, we’re not dating, och helvete, jag gör bara det här värre för mig själv, I’m so sorry.”

He had that miserable look on his face again. The same one he had had when they spilled coffee over themselves. But all Catelyn could do was laugh. Laugh at how he felt the exact same panic that she had felt just seconds earlier. Laugh at how they were both nervous wrecks pretending to be calm.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked.

“No, I’m not, I just think the whole situation is funny.”

“How nice, I just feel like an idiot.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“Once again, I’m sorry for ruining everything.”

“You didn’t, Ned” she assured him. “Nothing‘s ruined. At least I don’t think so.”

Did he think so?

“So we’re fine?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’re fine.”

He looked at her for a moment before sighing. Then he kept on drawing. And so did she. They didn’t say much more, just sat in silence except for an occasional exchange of words. And even though it had started very awkwardly Catelyn soon found that it was a quite comfortable silence. She could sit with him and be quiet.

“There” he said after a while. “It’s not my best work, the colors are a bit off, and your hands look awful, but it’s okay.”

She looked at his drawing and was left speechless, wondering what his best work was if that was just okay. Because she was looking at a drawing that was very clearly her. Sitting cross legged on a chair with half a cookie in one hand and a pen in the other, smiling. So what if the color of her hair wasn’t exactly right and her fingers looked a bit weird, it didn’t matter. It was still good. It looked good.

“What was that word you called me?” she asked.

He frowned.

“What?”

“Beautiful in Swedish.”

“Uhm, ‘vacker’, why?”

Catelyn wouldn’t have been able to pronounce that correctly if so her life had depended upon it, but she could give it a try. And she would give it a try.

“Because this drawing is vacker.”

Ned smiled at that.

“You think so?”

“Definitely, I love it.”

He slid it over the table to her.

“If that is so you can have it.”

She left not much later with the drawing in her bag, her head so full of things that she two times almost tripped and fell down the stairs because she forgot to watch where she was going. Most of all she thought about Ned. Everything about him, from the way he smiled to how he had thrown in a sentence of Swedish when he was embarrassed. She also thought about how he had called her beautiful. She hadn’t known it before, but Ned believed she was beautiful. That knowledge made her chest flutter. Maybe she was interested in him after all. Just a little bit though, it would most likely pass. 

[writtenbynick]

The Very Pretty Girl From The Studio

A few years ago I was teaching yoga classes out of a local studio, open to anyone that would like to attend. I had stopped working at the local gym recently, and did more private sessions for fitness, but mostly did yoga out of the studio (I have certifications in both fields). Mostly the clients were women in their 40′s or older, generally really nice people, but it was pretty rare that any of them were more than moderately attractive. That made it all the more noticeable when a really, really cute girl came in to try class one day.

She said that a family member of hers had come in and liked one of the classes, so she wanted to come try a class as well. I definitely lucked out that she happened to try mine. The best way to describe her appearance was to imagine a very “All-American cheerleader” type. She had the biggest brown eyes you could possibly imagine, amazing lips that were naturally very “pouty” for lack of a better term… long blonde hair, often done up in some sort of ponytail (the fancier-than-normal kind), or pulled back with little clips. She was maybe 5′3 at most, very petite, seemed to always be wearing pink or baby blue, and since it was yoga class she’d usually be wearing yoga pants. Almost always black yoga pants. They hugged her ass and legs so snugly, and she had a hell of an hourglass figure for them to work with. The “eyeball test” told me that her breasts were a medium C cup or so. She was pretty much the epitome of a girly-girl, and I mean that in the best of ways.

Over the next several months she returned to class very regularly. I learned that she was 23, in college to become a kindergarten teacher, and that she had a 2 year old daughter. We talked about plenty of things, but it was always pretty innocuous subject matter. Since I was at work, I wasn’t going to say anything that could be interpreted as inappropriate, or just lacking in tact.

I often made facebook posts about classes and the studio schedule, but she wasn’t on any social media, and asked if she could text me about classes. I was happy to share my number with her (but, to be fair, this was pretty normal for a fair amount of clients). She also attended classes with a few other teachers, but told me that she loved the details that I provided during class, and that it really helped her feel things in the poses that she never got from other teachers. I definitely have a “devil-in-the-details” mentality when I’m trying to instruct, so I really appreciated that it helped her get the most out of each class, and each pose.

Eventually, her college schedule changed, so she wasn’t able to attend my morning classes any longer (unless her classes weren’t in session for the day, for whatever reason). I still got the odd text from her, here and there, but not terribly regularly. And then one day she messaged me asking about my schedule, for fitness, for yoga, group sessions, private sessions… you name it, she was asking about it. I gave her the info she asked for, and she picked a group session, asking if she could attend, and ask me some questions after. I said that would be fine, and that I’d be happy to answer whatever she’d like afterward.

The session she decided to come along to was actually an outdoor class that took place after a hike. It was a really nice summer day, and she was in her standard girly-girl fitness attire. My group hiked up to our designated yoga spot, a little less than a half hour path up the side of a mountain if you pushed the pace (like going up the stairs the whole time). We got up to the top, did our yoga class, and she made it a point to stick with me when we walked back down.

We chatted about all sorts of things, and then at the bottom of the mountain, she said “can I ask you something? did you ever think about asking me out when I was coming to all those classes?”. I grinned, and told her “think about it - yes… but I was always at work, and didn’t want to be out of line”. I’m also about a decade older than her, and didn’t know if that was going to be appealing to her or not. She smiled, and told me that she liked that I was older, and that it made sense that I didn’t want to be out of line at work. She assured me that I’m a really good yoga teacher, but she also liked to come see me at the studio because she was attracted to me. She moved in close to me, put her arms around me, and leaned in for a very sweet kiss.

We had a few dates after that, usually going out to eat, and having very enjoyable discussions. Very early on I noticed that she took every chance to make physical contact… she’d playfully bump into me with her hips, lean onto my shoulder… put her hands on my hands, forearms, or even my chest. I really liked that she was the touchy-feely type, but without being overly clingy. She had very soft skin, and we often sat together and just talked… and I would run my fingertips over the skin on the back of her hands and wrists, her neck, her cheek… and we kissed quite a bit, deeply and passionately… her lips… oh man… those beautifully pouty lips…

And then, one evening after a date we found ourselves with some alone time. We’d only had a few dates so far, and she was pretty quick to say “we can’t have sex unless you brought condoms, I’m not on the pill”. I told her that since we hadn’t had that kind of discussion yet, I didn’t bring any, but that was ok, I didn’t have that kind of expectation.

Fast-forward about 20 minutes… we had been kissing, and groping, she was straddling my lap… my hands were entangled in her hair, my lips on her neck, her head tossing backward with gasps and moans of pleasure, her arms wrapped around me, and she started to grind up and down, up and down, up and down… she pulled away and looked me right in the eyes and said “I NEED YOU TO FUCK ME”.

I reminded her that we couldn’t do that, and I could see that she was almost oblivious to the world around us at that moment.. “Don’t worry” I said, and started to unbutton her jeans. She started feverishly tearing them off, revealing a pink thong that just barely covered her… I dove in, pressing my mouth into her inner thigh, licking and nibbling, and dragging my tongue over her thong to the other side so I could repeat all of these motions again… I felt the muscles in her legs tighten up, and then I pressed my lips down on top of the pink material… the pressure made her let out an “oooooohhhhh” that was music to my ears…

I gazed up in the direction of her face, and her eyes were closed… her hands were laying on her chest, motionless, other than the heaving caused by her deep breathing. I pulled the pink material to one side and began to lick her, long slow strokes upward, again and again… I could feel her getting wetter by the instant. God, I love knowing how much pleasure a woman is feeling as I take my time and explore just what buttons to push… while one hand held the thong to the side and pressed my fingers into her thigh, the other hand started to manipulate her lips… the wetness and the build up had already been enough that her lips were more than ready to reveal more of her… I moved my fingers upward slightly, drawing her skin away from me slightly, revealing her clit.

My tongue pressed down flatly, and firmly, and slowly I dragged my tongue toward her clit… as soon as I made contact, I increased the pressure, and she let out an even louder “OOOOOHHHHHHHH”.  I firmed up my grip, and started to move my tongue forward and backward, and then used just the very tip of my tongue to move over her clit, over and over, changing directions with every movement. She bucked so hard I thought she was going to come out of her skin. “OOOHHHH, OOHHHHHH… MMMM….. OOOOOHHHHHHH”. She was cumming, her hands gripped onto the muscles at the base of my neck, and I felt her hips press into my mouth. She held on for a moment or so while I kept applying pressure, and little by little, I felt her start to relax…

She let her body lay back again slowly, and I slowed what I was doing as well… but I didn’t stop…She kept moaning, and breathing, and her body had these little spasms that told me she had more in her, and I’m not one to back away unless a job is truly finished. I kept swirling my tongue slowly, and then moved my hand to take the place of my mouth… I lifted my head, and saw that she was again laying back with her eyes closed, one hand moved up to her face, her skin was flushed, and there was a slight layer of sweat on her skin… I moved my hands away, pulled the thong off of her and tossed it aside, and slid my finger over her lips once more, just the tiniest amount between her lips rather than on the outside… she again let out an “mmmmmmm” as I began to press my finger inside of her… “ohhhh, fuckkkk”… and then started to motion my finger upward and downward on her lips, almost like the movements of a painter’s brush… she let out a bit of a shiver every time my arm motioned upward… I brought my mouth back to her clit, and again licked, and pressed, and pinched with my lips…

For a second time, I could feel her body reacting… I knew what to pay attention to this time, and using my mouth I started to repeat the movements that got her there the first time, but this time it was in addition to my finger, which had started to press further into her, and then move its way forward and backward, forward and backward… The moans… fuck, I’m a sucker for a vocal woman… She started to react more strongly, I could tell she liked the inward-outward movement of my finger, and coupled with my lips and tongue pressing into her, she was starting to build up again… I continued, and began to quicken the pace and could feel her hips pressing into my face… momentarily, I slowed down and added a second finger, and again she let out an “ooohhhhh, oooohhhhh, yessssss, mmmmmmm”… I sped up again, my two fingers moving inward and outward, inward and outward, and my tongue swirling over clit again and again… her muscles tightened again and her body curled upward, her hands on the back of my neck this time… “OOOOOHHHHHHHH GODDDDD”, her nails clutched into me, and she started letting out short, sharp gasps and her body started to move in rapid shivers.

Once more, her body started to soften and she relaxed her muscles back to a laying position. Her moans became softer as well, but more continuous this time… I kept moving my fingers and tongue, slowly and softly… I was very much enjoying the “afterglow” of her second orgasm, I’m sure I had a wry, satisfied smile on my face which was still between her thighs… my fingers were still inside her, and I realized they hadn’t done all they could do… with my palm facing upward I began to curl those two fingers (my middle and ring fingers) with the pads of my fingertips pressing into the inside wall, I could feel the raised surface of her G-spot… the instant I touched it she let out another long moan, and her hands twitched. She looked down at me with her mouth and her big brown eyes opened wide, seemingly in disbelief.

I moved my face away from her pussy, I could feel the devilish smirk on my face, a reaction to how expressive she was, how evident the intensity of her pleasure had become. She grabbed my face and kissed me passionately. I always get turned on when a woman tastes herself on my lips, and she was ALL IN. Not just kissing me, but licking my lips, and my face, her hands moving and guiding my face, her fingernails gently pressing into my beard. Fuck, this was turning me on… but I wasn’t done with her… I moved my thumb to her clit, and pulled my fingers more firmly into her G-spot. Her body heaved powerfully, for a moment I was afraid her head would crash into mine, but she turned her face, her cheek pressed against mine and her fingers grasped me tightly once more. “mmmmmmMMMMMMMMM”…. “OHHHHH….. OHHH OHHH OHHH”, she was getting louder and louder, her body became frantic, the more I pressed into her G-spot and clit the more she lost control, her legs shook, her hands held on for dear life, she leaned into me, and I felt her body shiver even more strongly than before. “OOOOOHHHHH GOODDDDDDDD….. FUCKKKKKKK”.

She orgasmed again, and it was a thing of beauty. I could tell her mind was completely free from any thoughts that didn’t have to do with the sensations she was feeling. She writhed and moaned and just when I thought her body would soften, she continued to escalate, almost to the point that even I was surprised. And then she pulled her face away, looked me in the eye, and kissed me again. The kind of kiss that means to engulf a person. There was a different energy about her now, and her movements were different… she adjusted her body to move away from mine slightly, as soon as my fingers were no longer inside her, she dropped onto her knees in front of me, and took my fingers into her mouth, her eyes locked with mine. She sucked them strongly, then took them out of her mouth and licked them up and down, and it seemed like she hardly blinked as she did so.

This got me INCREDIBLY worked up. And she was as worked up as I could possibly fathom. She clawed at my jeans and hurriedly undid my belt. She couldn’t get rid of my jeans fast enough to meet the pace she wanted to move at. Very quickly drawing my boxer briefs down to my knees, she took my cock into her mouth and started to move forward and backward as fast as she could. Those perfect lips of her looked so fucking good wrapped around my cock. I was incredibly hard, and this felt amazingly satisfying. Those big brown eyes looked up at me, and she opened her mouth a little wider. I could see her teeth as she tried to take me a little deeper. She paused and then backed off a bit, and then repeated this, probably four or five times, and then gagged strongly, taking me out of her mouth and stroking instead while she took in a highly needed deep breath.

I can’t quite put into words the expression on her face. She knew exactly what she was doing, and was singularly focused, but also seemed almost vacant. Again she took my cock into her mouth, as deep as she could go, I could feel her tongue trying to move forward underneath my shaft, and then relax a tiny bit, drawing me slightly deeper. I was inside her throat as far as it seemed I could go, and she gagged once again. She was going to continually try to take more and more, gagging every time, and pulling away with a smile on her face.

She pulled away for air periodically, sliding her very petite hands up and down the length of my cock. “You’ve got a REALLY BIG DICK”. She grabbed it tightly, just gazing at it, visually taking it in for a moment. She licked at the veins on one side, and commented that my dick was roughly the same thickness as her wrist, and then took it into her mouth once more, pulling away with a loud popping sound, and repeating this several times, and then taking another deep breath and going down as deep as she could once again.

This time she backed up a little bit, and did something I didn’t expect at all… she stayed in place, took my hands in hers, and placed my hands on the back of her head. She stayed there motionless for a second or two, and then her eyes looked up at mine, her eyebrows raised and lowered quickly, just once. I held her head in place, and started to raise my hips, and lower them again, somewhat gently. I could feel that I was colliding with the back of her throat, and took my time going slowly. She put her hands on my thighs and backed away, looked at me and said “do you want me to suck it, or do you want to fuck my mouth? I love being facefucked… and choked, and you can call me whatever you want… I get off on that…”

I could feel that same grin on my face… I enjoy many aspects of the back and forth that sexuality has to offer… I’ve described it at times the same way that vampire in the movies isn’t allowed to enter your home unless invited… I  won’t be overly rough or dominant until I know it’s welcomed and desired… but once I’m given permission, I won’t hold back…

I stood up, grabbing a handful of her hair and started to walk toward the wall… she crawled on her hands and knees, and kneeled in front of me with her back toward the wall. I positioned my cock right in front of her face, and moved forward until it made contact with her lips. “Open your mouth”. She did so, with a smile. “Good girl”. I ran one hand over her cheek, and then slid my cock forward into her mouth. Slowly at first, I moved my hips forward and backward, checking to see how far I could go each time. And then a little faster. And then a little deeper. And then she gagged, gasping for air, leaving a strand of saliva dangling from the head of my cock all the way to her lips.

Right back at it, I pushed her onto my cock once more… she grabbed the back of my thighs with both hands, and pulled herself as far as she could go. Her mouth was so wet, she was drooling all over as I held her head and fucked her mouth. Realizing how much drool there was, she lifted her shirt up over her tits, her spit landing on her cleavage and bra. She put her hands on my thighs again, and took me into her throat. I pressed my hips forward rapidly and repeatedly, and she gagged again. The wet sounds from her mouth were unreal, this was so nasty, so sloppy… “am I being a good little slut? tell me…’ she asked me. “You’re such a dirty slut, on you knees for my cock, aren’t you?”. “I’m a whore, and I want you to RUIN my little throat with your cock” she replied, smiling immensely… Goddamn, she had always looked so sweet and innocent to me, and now to know how dirty she could be… the best of both worlds, I was loving it.

I let go of any thoughts of holding back, and started to not just move my hips, but to really fuck her mouth and throat. She gagged again and again as I thrust my cock into her mouth. I held her head in place, and bucked my hips, her spit spilled from her mouth onto her tits, she let out a slight vocalization that could be heard intermittently as my cock moved in and out of her face. “Fuck, your little slutty mouth feels so good”, she moaned again in delight. Her right hand came up to my left, which I took to her throat, grabbing on with just a little bit of pressure. She moaned even more. I started to push even deeper into her throat. There was roughly an inch and a half left that she couldn’t take… Her eyes opened up widely, and I felt her hold on for as long as she could before she pulled back a bit with a loud gasp. Her eyes were starting to water, which I might not have noticed if it didn’t leave a little teardrop line from her eyeliner.

She immediately got right back to it. “I’m going to cum down your throat”, I let her know… I kept going at a feverish pace, and could feel my cock begin to throb. Thrust after thrust, I was getting closer and closer. Her moaning and gagging, the strings of spit, those big brown eyes, and her perfect lips… and how incredibly slutty she secretly was… I felt myself coming to climax, and continuing to buck my hips, I unloaded shot after shot of cum right into her throat. Unsurprisingly, she gagged again, but this time she looked like she had totally glazed over, entranced in what was happening, incredibly present in the moment, but completely removed from reality at the same time.

She stayed on her knees, staring at my cock, her hands on my legs, her breathing frantic… she was still recuperating from everything that had just taken place, and she coughed for a brief second… and then again… I realized that she had the hiccups, and each hiccup was ending with something of a cough… I wasn’t sure if it from the erratic breathing or the pounding her throat had taken, but either way she was soooo very satisfied with herself… “you have a really, really big dick, and FUCK, you came a LOT” she repeated… It sounded so good coming from those perfect little  blowjob lips of hers…

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed has taken great joy in watching Laxus become not only a powerful mage, but a celebrity as well. As any dutiful husband would, he saw it his responsibility to make sure Laxus' new found fame didn't go to his head. And what better way to accomplish that than to splash him back to reality. [Fraxus One Shot]

I'm not sure where this idea came from, but it seemed fun and I don’t write canon-focused as much as I'd like to. This is just a fun little one shot, that I hope can put a smile on your faces.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. Hope you enjoy it.

A Splash of Reality

Freed wasn't entirely sure how, but Laxus had become something of a celebrity.

It had started out during their stint working for Blue Pegasus, wherein Laxus had been forced to take an interview with Sorcerer Weekly. Master Bob had insisted on it, claiming that the guild was run on patrons as well as their jobs, and having the world-renowned Laxus Dreyar suddenly as a guildmember was big news and could stir up a lot of business. It was made an even bigger deal because of Laxus' previous aversion to anything to do with press. It was his first interview, and it had been incredibly successful.

From there, things had snowballed. Other interviewers suddenly saw Laxus as a viable target, and Bob forced Laxus to do the more high-profile ones. When Fairy Tail had returned, Laxus had been one of the main points of intrigue, partly because now he was a well-known media figure and Fairy Tail returning was big news, and party because of the rumours about Laxus taking over.

Once he had started, he hadn't seemed to stop. Not only did he do interviews, but he also done an advertisement for the creators of his cherished headphones, which had kickstarted his pseudo-career in modelling. Every interview now came with a photoshoot, and Freed was immeasurably amused about how, with every shoot he did, the amount of clothing Laxus wore seemed to be lessening and the poses became more focused on his physique. Apparently the magazines knew a body they could profit from when presented with one.

While Laxus did complain, Freed knew he was enjoying it all. The man, while private, did like attention, if only on his terms.

The amount of time the couple could spend together did lessen slightly, but Freed didn't mind that. It would be hypocritical if he did, given when they had gotten together it had been the same year he'd gained the reputation as the 'Pretty Boy with a heart of darkness', and he had topped the 'Wizard I'd Like To Date' list; something Laxus had yet to do, Freed thought smugly. Media was something a famous wizard had to deal with, and it was a lot more fun laughing at Laxus' awkwardness in interviews than it would be if he allowed himself to be angry at the late nights Laxus spent in a studio somewhere.

One such night, Freed found himself doing the dishes as Laxus returned home.

"Hey," Laxus greeted as he entered, immediately shucking off his coat. "You alright?"

"Perfectly well," Freed said with a smile, placing the sponge on the draining board and turning to greet his husband. "Did your meeting go well?"

"I guess so," Laxus shrugged. "They offered me the contract. Pretty good pay, lots of coverage, they seemed enthusiastic about it."

"I can't imagine why," Freed chuckled. "It's not as if you're the person everyone's taking about right now, and that everything you attribute your name to seems to explode in popularity. Oh wait, you're exactly that," Freed chuckled. "I expect they threw a party just because you considered it."

An underwear company had, a month prior, come to Laxus saying they wanted him to be the headliner for their new ad campaign. They had stated in no uncertain terms that they would do almost anything to have him as their lead model, and it wasn't hard to understand why. Laxus had done a photoshoot for Sorcerer Weekly where one of the pictures showed Laxus teasing his underwear, and it had been the year's most successful issue of the magazine. The company had openly grovelled to get Laxus to consider their offer, and Freed had found it hysterical. He remembered what it had been like when he'd gotten similar offers, and was thankful that he no longer had to deal with it.

"Are you considering taking it?" Freed asked as he turned back to the dishes.

"Not sure," Laxus said, walking behind Freed and pressing his lips against the man's crown, a silent greeting. "They're respectful, and they said I can pick a photographer I know which means I won't get stuck with a creep. But I'm a mage, y'know. It'd make me less credible if there were magazine and billboard with me nearly naked on them, right?"

Freed paused, and smiled. He had known Laxus most of his life and they'd been together for a good few years, so he could read the man well. The fact that he'd phrased his last statement as a question, rather than as fact, was telling. He wanted to do it, almost definitely would do it, but he just needed a push.

And unfortunately, Freed had a bit of a cruel side.

"You're absolutely right," Freed said, voice almost haughty in tone. He was grinning into the unclean dishes. "Not only would you seem a sell-out, it would also affect your guild work and your reputation. It would risk taking away the fear factor you bring to missions; you shouldn't do it."

There was a beat of silent, one that Freed relished, before Laxus spoke again.

"But there's good aspects to it," He stated, forcing a nonchalant tone. "I could get some more money for the guild, which it always needs. And it's not like it's uncommon for mages to do ad campaigns and get into modelling. I mean, Mira does it all the time and nobody questions how fucking scary she can be."

"I'll agree to that," Freed nodded slightly, looking to Laxus with a wicked grin. "If you agree that you're loving this."

This had been the unspoken aspect of Laxus' celebrity status. Before it had happened, the blonde had been ardent that he'd never get into the publicity side of mage work, and that the people who did weren't as respectable as those who didn't. He'd claimed he would never do an interview by choice, and that he would hate every moment of it if forced to do one. That might have been true at the start, but as he had gotten used to it, gotten more comfortable with it, and had created professional relationships with journalists and photographers, he'd clearly started to enjoy it. A lot. But he refused to admit it, another amusing part of the situation.

"You kidding me?" Laxus scoffed. "Wish they'd stop asking, then I'd go back to normal."

"If that's the case, I'll talk to Master Makarov and have him block all correspondence from the media," Freed offered, and smirked when Laxus' eyebrow twitched slight. "Just admit it Laxus, you've become a celebrity, and you're enjoying every second of it."

"No I'm not," He protested, collapsing into a chair at the dining table.

"Oh please," Freed chuckled. "There's a small voice in your head that is constantly celebrating every moment of this. The arrogant teenager who wanted to hog the spotlight," Freed smiled as Laxus blushed a little. "You remind me of me when I first got into the celebrity side of things."

"I ain't that bad," Laxus stated. "Nobody can be as bad as Freed Justine the Pretty Boy."

"You might be more subtle about it," Freed conceded. "But I know that if you hadn't made such a big deal about not being one of those people, you'd be just as bad as I was."

"So what if I'm enjoying it," Laxus huffed, looking away from Freed and ignoring the chuckle that got him. "It ain't like I'm doing anything wrong by liking it."

"Certainly not, you're a well renowned wizard and you have put a lot of effort into proving yourself capable and impressive. Your celebrity status just proves that it's not just magic you're proficient in, but also publicity, arguably something a lot harder to do," Freed said as he walked from the kitchen sink and towards Laxus. "But if you think I'm not going to take every opportunity to annoy you like you did when our roles were reversed, you are very naïve indeed."

Laxus chuckled slightly at that, and the minor amount of defensiveness dissipated. As a couple, they had always had a flirtatious, harmless tit-for-tat rivalry, and Freed was glad Laxus knew his teasing was a part of that.

"Guess I deserve that," Laxus conceded. "What are you planning to do then? Find an embarrassing picture of me and send it to every magazine you know?"

"I'd hardly do something so unoriginal," Freed chuckled, thinking back to when Laxus had done just that to Freed. The picture of Freed sleeping, leaning against his sword, hair a mess after a mission, drooling slightly, had been featured in every low-end gossip magazine for a week, something which Laxus and The Raijinshuu found great delight in.

"Then what?" Laxus probed, smirking. He was clearly thinking of the picture as well.

"I can hardly ruin the surprise for you," Freed chuckled. "But, overall, I simply intend to keep you humble. To make sure all the grovelling and worshipping doesn't go to your head."

"How d'you plan on doing that?"

"Well, this, for example."

Freed moved quickly. As he had walked from the kitchen sink, he had grabbed the sponge that lay on the draining board and hidden it behind his back, something that Laxus hadn't noticed. He speedily moved it above Laxus' head, wringing it out. A cold shower of dishwater dropped out of it, landing on the blonde's perfectly styled hair, and splashing onto his shoulders.

Laxus let out a loud and undignified squark, wide eyed as the water dripped down his face. He looked up at Freed with shock for a moment, before determination painted itself across his featured. Freed met the expression with a cocky smile.

"You'll regret that," Laxus stated plainly.

"I don't think so," Freed chuckled. "After such a lovely noise, I don't think anything you do could make me regret it."

Laxus strode to the kitchen sink, scooping his hand in and collecting a handful of the foam bubbles. He turned on his heel and looked to Freed, who had crossed his arms and looked at the bubbles with an unimpressed eyebrow quirk. Not put off, Laxus stepped forward and slowly stroked Freed's face over with his bubbly fist, covering the man's features. He chuckled as he stepped back, the bubbles clinging to Freed's face.

"Well I have had a taste of my own medicine," Freed said in a voice so sarcastic it was almost impressive. "And it is very bitt-"

Freed cut himself off, gaping slightly as realisation – and a glass full of water – hit him. He gaped slightly as the cup full of dishwater splashed cold against his face, part of it entering his mouth. He slowly spat the water out onto the floor, glaring at his husband as bubbles trickled down his face. Laxus loudly laughed at him.

"I see," Freed said, voice calm now. "It's war then, is it?"

"Guess so," Laxus shrugged, crossing his arms, and adopting the same stance Freed had used just a moment ago.

And so, the war broke out. Before Freed could get to the sink, Laxus had splashed another handful of bubbles and water in his direction, drenching his crisp shirt and sending a shudder through him. Freed quickly got his revenge, cupping his hands and doing the same. His attack had been more effective, and Laxus groaned at a large wet mark covered his designer clothing; designer clothing that looked indistinguishable from his other clothes, given that no designer could change his unique sense of style.

The impromptu water fight lasted for a short while, and was covered in a mixture of sounds ranging from cries of annoyance to loud and raucous laughter. Though their kitchen was something of a mess by the time the fight neared its end, neither man cared. They both faced a lot of pressure, and moments of ridiculous fun was something they both relished.

Particularly Freed, given that he was now holding Laxus by the hair, threatening to plunge his face down into the rest of the dishwater.

"You wouldn't," Laxus grunted, muscles flexing as he pushed up against Freed's grasp.

"We both know I would," Freed taunted. "Unless you concede, of course."

"Never," Laxus demanded.

"Well then, let me give you a taste of what you've got in stall," Freed laughed, and Laxus' eyes narrowed. "Tonight I had gravy with my dinner, so the water is not only cold and stagnant, but it's also got a delightful hint of soapy beef. The few specs of the dinner I didn't finish are still floating around, which I expect will make this interesting," Laxus curled his nose at that; he could already smell the mix of contrasting scents. He was fine not having a closer look. "And from your nasty sneak attack, I can say from experience that it has a disgusting taste."

"You won't push me in," Laxus huffed. "When it comes to arm strength, I win."

"Perhaps with another man, that would be true," Freed mused. "But as your husband, I know a weakness or two that I can exploit."

Freed's fingers grazed against Laxus' waist, and a tickling sensation flushed through the blonde. His eyes widened as he reaffirmed his grasp on the sides of the sink, because Freed had barely been trying to tickle him and he was now only an inch away from the water's surface. If Freed really wanted to do this, Laxus would be powerless.

"You have one last chance to admit I win," Freed chuckled, breath hitting Laxus' ear. "Or it's bath time."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Very well," Freed grinned. "Enjoy yourself, Mr Celebrity."

And with that, Freed's free hand attacked Laxus' weak spot, his muscles buckled, and his face was shoved into the disgusting water below him.

~~~

"You've made a decision then?" Freed asked.

He walked out of his bathroom wearing nothing but a robe, his hair a slight mess after a quick towel dry. After Laxus had been pushed into the sink, Freed had been declared the victor of their water fight, and the two had retreated to the shower to clean off. Laxus had left the bathroom before Freed, claiming he was going to call the underwear company and give them a definitive answer while Freed readied himself for sleep.

"Yeah, just got off the phone," Laxus said, smiling at Freed and shifting the covers so his husband could climb in. "Told them I'd do it, they seemed pretty happy about it."

"I imagine so," Freed chuckled. "I hope you don't become disillusioned by it all, because glamour shoots can be a tiresome bore. I'd certainly rather you endure it than me."

He climbed into the bed, automatically leaning against his husband and curling up around him. Laxus wrapped him in his arms without a second thought, smiling a little at the scent of Freed's distinctive shampoo. He nuzzled his nose into the man's hair for a moment, before resting his chin on the man's head.

He grinned to himself before speaking again.

"You were right, they really would have done anything to get me working with them," Laxus mused, seemingly out of nowhere. "I went to them with a pretty big demand, and they actually went with it. Kinda shocked."

"As I said, you're a big name," Freed shrugged, covering himself with the duvet. "What did you want from them?"

"Double the pay."

"They really were desperate," Freed chuckled. "What they offered before was generous anyway."

"Well, I guess they saw the perks of it," Laxus chuckled, and smiled a little wickedly. "I mean, when I say they doubled the pay, I might have been misleading. Because while they're paying twice as much, it's not just going to me."

"Then who is it going to?" Freed questioned.

"You, of course," Laxus smirked, and Freed froze in his arms. Laxus tightened his grip slightly. "You see, I told them just how much my stud of a team captain – who was the fantasy guy of the whole nation a couple years ago – wanted to get into modelling. How he missed the spotlight, and wanted to show off to the world. And when I told them in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't be doing anything without him, they seemed very happy to do what I wanted."

"You didn't," Freed said, voice hollow.

"Oh I did," Laxus chuckled. "So it looks like I'm not going to be the only celebrity living here from this point, huh?"

"You bastard," Freed grunted.

"Damn right I am," Laxus grinned, taking Freed's chin with his fingers and turning him so they were face to face. He smirked at the man, who was doing a mix of a glare and a pout. Laxus leant forward, kissing Freed with a victorious expression. "I guess I win after all, Pretty Boy."

[hobeymakar]

Disco Love | M. Rantanen

Words: 2,129

This is dedicated to my girl @grenawitka​

A/N: I randomly had a dream about a future significant other taking me out to a 80s-style roller disco as a date because I’m a freak who loves 80s disco a little too much. Since I’m single af and my attraction to the male species mostly revolves around hockey players, I figured I would make it about a player. Mikko was suggested by my girl @grenawitka​ and thus, this was born. In this, COVID-19 never happened and the season and offseason take place at their normal scheduled times

Warnings: excessive amounts of disco, swearing, references to sex, and light sexual content

-

You’re in your room curling your hair to try and make it look as 80s as possible. There’s a new roller disco that just opened up in Denver and you haven’t shut up about it since they announced they were opening it. It literally got to the point where you were talking Mikko’s ear off about it and since he’s a great boyfriend, he agreed to take you there on a date.

You finish curling your hair before throwing a headband over it to keep it in place and putting it into a high ponytail with a colorful scrunchie. You also put on very colorful makeup. You have a rainbow-colored leotard on with a pink skirt over it. You have leg warmers and armbands on and look like you belong in an 80s music video. You put on hoop earrings just to add to the look and take a picture to send to the WAGs group chat. The older girls definitely appreciate the look more than the younger ones who think you look lowkey ridiculous.

Before you can defend your look to the younger girls, Mikko comes out of the bathroom dressed in a dark t-shirt and shorts.

“Really babe, that’s what you’re wearing?” you scoff, not believing he didn’t even put an ounce of effort into it.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” he whines.

“It’s basic and not 80s enough!” you huff in frustration.

You drag him into his side of your walk-in closet and you give him a whole wardrobe change. After a while, you’re satisfied with his new look, which consists of a bright muscle tank, dark 80s style joggers, and sneakers.

“Alright now go look at your look,” you inform him, gesturing to the mirror.

He takes a look at himself and grimaces. This is definitely something he would never wear on his own accord.

“You look great, baby and it’s one night to make me happy,” you assure him.

“I just hope no one recognizes me,” he grimaces thinking about being caught dead by the media wearing what he has on.

You roll your eyes at how dramatic he is and get ready to leave. After a few minutes, you leave the condo and make your way to the car. Mikko insists on driving, which is better for you because you get to control the music and like the pest you are, you play nonstop disco in the car. The entire ride you subject Mikko to the likes of Evelyn Champagne King, Donna Summers, The BeeGees, Gloria Gaynor, Chic, KC and the Sunshine Band, Fire, Diana Ross, Earth, Wind, and Fire, and more. 

After what must feel like an excruciating long time for Mikko, you finally arrive at the roller disco. The parking is shit, as it usually is in the city, so you have to park a few blocks away in a parking garage. You make the walk to the roller disco, braving the chilly air of the early September night in the city. You make your way inside the building and Mikko pays the fee for two. You then head over to the rentals to rent out old-fashioned roller skates. Mikko had wanted to bring his rollerblades, but you told him that it defeats the purpose of going to a roller disco, since it’s with old-fashioned roller skates.

“What are your sizes?” the guy working the rental booth asks, before recognizing Mikko and his face drops.

Mikko talks to the guy and lets him know their sizes. The guy wishes he could get an autograph but settles for a picture with him instead. After the exchange is done, you put on your skates with Mikko tying the laces up for you. You both then head to the hardwood rink holding hands. Since your skating isn’t the best, Mikko leads you at a much slower pace than he would go normally.

The song Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees starts playing and you feel like you’re being taken back in time to 1979 or something. You start singing along to the song as you skate alongside groups of friends and other couples.

“Aren’t you glad we’re back in Denver?” you ask him.

“Yeah, being back in Denver means a new season is starting and another shot at the cup,” he replies.

“I really believe you guys can win it this year, babe,” you assure him.

“That’s what everyone said last season and look what happened,” he replies bitterly, referring to their latest 2nd round exit. 

“Yeah well that was last season and this season is different! You guys are a year older and wiser and you’re going to make it out of the West this year!” you assure him again.

“I sure hope we do,” he smiles weakly.

“Anyway, we need to start planning our halloween outfit for this year!” you suggest, already coming up with cute couple ideas.

“Babe, it’s September,” he replies, throwing you a look.

“Yeah, I know, but we need to be the best dressed couple at the party,” you reply.

“Why don’t we just dress like we’re dressed now? I think being a 80s roller disco couple will make us best dressed at the party!” he teases.

“As long as I get to see you in tight pants,” you giggle.

“I’m not wearing tight pants, babe,” he replies.

“You’re going to wear tight pants,” you add.

The song Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough by Michael Jackson comes on and you start singing and swaying to the beat. As you get more comfortable with your skating, you start picking up your speed. Mikko starts showing off by moon-walking on his skates and doing fancy moves.

“You’re such a show off!” you whine.

“You act like you don’t love it!” he adds.

“Whatever, I’m hungry,” you reply, dragging him out of the hardwood rink and towards the concessions area. 

You both look at the menu and decide to split nachos, as well as ordering two slices of brooklyn style pizza and drinks. You wait for your food while I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor plays, with you managing to sing all the lyrics into Mikko’s ear. Your food is ready and you sit down to eat it in old-school booths that remind you of old pizzerias.

“Have you been having fun?” you ask him, afraid that he’s only pretending for your sake.

“Surprisingly it’s been fun. I’m not really into disco like you, but it’s been really fun. The old-school vibe is nice. I feel like it’s 1989 or something,” he admits with a small smile.

“Not gonna lie, I was scared you were only pretending to like it because I do. I always wanted to go to a roller disco and get that old school nostalgic experience,” you inform him.

“Well I’m glad I brought you here tonight. Does that mean I get the boyfriend of the year award?” he asks hopefully.

“You still need to stop leaving your clothes thrown all over the floor, leaving the toilet seat up every time you use it, and put in a new toilet paper roll instead of just leaving it on top of the holder for me to give you the award,” you explain, shooting him a look.

“I’m sorry,” he replies sheepishly, kissing your cheek. “I’ll be better about those things.”

He’s lucky he’s hot because you honestly would’ve killed him already from how much you have to baby him, like as if you’re his second mom. 

“Thanks I know I’m hot, but it’s great to hear you say it,” he winks, before taking a bite of his pizza.

Clearly, you said the “you’re lucky you’re hot” part out loud and you curse yourself for inflating his already huge ego.

You two finish your food before throwing out your food and heading over to the old-school arcade area. There’s a couple skeeball machines, pac-man, super mario, and a few other old-school games.

“Babe, I hope you know I’m gonna kick your ass in these games right?” you ask, as you make your way to the ticket machine.

“I don’t think so, my love. I hope you know I’m not gonna go easy on you,” he retorts, buying the tickets from the machine.

“We’ll see about that Rantanen,” you smirk, confident in your ability.

“You’re on, Y/L/N,” he adds, not backing down.

You head over to the skeeball machine and manage to kick his ass in that game.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna go easy on me, babe,” you smirk, knowing how much he hates to lose in anything.

“I was, but I won’t be this time around,” he lies, trying to play it off.

“We’ll see about that,” you scoff.

You head over to the pac-man machine and battle against each other and Mikko manages to beat you in a very close match.

“I thought you were gonna kick my ass,” he teases, making fun of you.

You just shoot him a look and take him over to the Super Mario machine to redeem yourself. After a very close match, you manage to beat him. You two go back and forth and after playing a few more games, you record more wins and therefore are crowned the ultimate champ.

“I’d like to thank God first and foremost,” you say, giving a fake award acceptance speech.

He just shakes his head in amusement and hip checks you lightly.

“I don’t think that’s how you treat a champ, babe,” you tease, still rubbing the victory in his face.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’m still the better skater,” he retorts, causing you to laugh in response.

You both head back over to the hardwood rink as the song Love Come Down by Evelyn Champagne King comes on and you literally start singing your heart out to the song, as you skate along with him. That song can definitely express your feelings for Mikko perfectly.

“Babe, did you know?” you ask, stifling a giggle.

“Know what?” he asks in confusion.

“That you make my love come down,” you add, before laughing.

“That was corny, babe,” he chuckles, kissing you.

“It’s true! I just can’t help the way that I feel!” you add, referencing the song again.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he groans.

“I love you more,” you smile, kissing him.

You skate for a little while longer listening to all the jams and even watch as some guys start having a battle right in the middle of the rink. After a while, you decide to head home and you return your skates back. 

You leave the roller disco and walk down the streets of Denver, getting the occasional weird looks by people for your 80s style attire. You eventually make your way back to the car. You take the aux once again and play Dancing Queen by ABBA causing Mikko to groan.

“Really ABBA? I hear enough of them from Gabe,” he groans.

“You’re acting like this isn’t a great song!” you retort, as you start heading back home.

You torture Mikko with more disco music durignt he whole drive back home. Eventually, you arrive back at the condo and go straight to the bathroom. You remove your makeup and tie your hair up before changing into one of Mikko’s old team Finland shirts with nothing underneath and heading into the room to see Mikko in bed and scrolling on his phone. He looks up and smiles when he sees you wearing his shirt. You join him in bed and straddle his waist, his hands going automatically to your hips.

“Have I told you before that I love when you wear my clothes?” he asks, his fingers running under the seam of the shirt.

“You may have mentioned it before,” you tease, running your fingers through his curls.

His hands go to your butt and he grabs both cheeks in his hands.

“Someone’s being handsy,” you tease, before rolling over onto his side.

“Such a tease,” he groans in disappointment.

“Quit whining you baby! We’re watching a movie tonight and I’m picking,” you inform him.

He hands you the remote and you choose Saturday Night Fever, the iconic 1977 disco movie.

“Really?” he groans, shooting you a look.

“Just shut up and turn off the lights, Mikko,” you order him.

He gets up begrudgingly and turns off the lights before climbing back into bed. You start the movie and Mikko gets over the movie choice after a while. You two don’t even watch the entire movie, abandoning it halfway because he got too handsy, which was part of his agenda from the second he saw you wearing his shirt. The soreness that you feel the next morning was worth it when he wakes you up with breakfast in bed.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

The Dutchess’ Garden - Part 3

Series Masterlist - Chris Evans Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Chris Evans x OC Emma Meijers

Warnings: Strong language, age difference, smut but not really smut

Word count: 2476

‘No, just admiring you,‘ he says casually. Emma’s eyes widen, she feels a pit of butterflies in her stomach, and her face turns bright red. Lucky for her, Chris is not looking at her. ‘I’m stunning, I know,‘ she jokes, flipping her hair to play it off. ‘You are though.‘

‘Morning Chris. Ready to go?‘ ‘Not at all. I feel like shit.‘ ‘You big baby. You’ll still outrun with me ease.‘

A week goes by faster than you think when you’re having fun. Chris really doesn’t understand how he got so lucky that Emma decided to call him that day. She could’ve gone down to her neighbors, rung a friend, could’ve taken cold showers all week. But no, she decided to call Chris and he’s thoroughly enjoyed the interactions they’ve had because of it. When they first ran together, he was scared he might have to slow down and ruin his own training so that she could keep up. Boy was he wrong. She ran like the wind, even on her bad days. He enjoys the challenge and saw significant changes in his personal records while running with her. And then there’s the privilege of seeing her every morning with her drowsy after-shower smile, sometimes accompanied with a towel turban or wet hair. He enjoyed seeing her like the others didn’t. No makeup, comfortable clothes instead of light- to heavy makeup and nice dresses. To pay him back for using his shower, she invited him to come over for lunch every day of the week. She had worked as a cook several years ago and makes amazing food that Chris definitely wasn’t going to say no to. Plus, she often had raw meat for Dodger which is great for his diet.

‘Chris. Chris?‘ Suddenly he realizes Emma has been calling for him from the bathroom. ‘Y-yeah?‘ He calls back, a bit flustered it took him this long to answer. ‘I forgot to bring a shirt,‘ she says and he can hear the hesitation in her voice. She doesn’t want to have to ask him for anything else. In fact, he knows she doesn’t like using him like this. He remembers she told him that her dad wouldn’t allow her to work for The Dutchess until she had promised and proven to not get emotionally attached to the guests. As she said it: “They’re actors for a reason.” And he supposes she’s right. He is an actor for a reason, but he sincerely hopes she believes that he wants to be friends with her. ‘I’ll grab you something. One second,‘ he calls back and rushes to his room to grab her a random shirt, trying to be as fast as he can. ‘Just stick your hand out the door, I promise I won’t look.‘ She sticks her hand out and he drops the shirt in her hand. ‘Thank you.‘ Chris walks back to his spot on the couch next to Dodger who picks his head up and looks at Chris like he knows something is up. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I know,‘ he hums to the dog, crossing his arms and falling back into the couch. He sighs and looks at the ceiling. A friend. Yes, that’s what he wanted to be to her when they first met but it only took him a day to realize his feelings were rooted much deeper than that. He liked that she gave him a reason to come back and he hated himself for coming back that fast. He had brought Dodger with him to make the “I was walking the dog, so I was going here anyway” excuse, but she hadn’t asked him why he was there. She just greeted him like he was an old friend and let him inside even though the bar was still closed. But what if she’s like this to everyone she meets? After all, she’s a hostess at a bar. She can think that actors can be liars, but hostess’ are the best liars in the world. They have to pretend they like everyone and put up with everyone’s shit in real life. They’re not given a script to rehearse, they just have to be ready. If anything, he should be scared of her using him. Wait, is that what she’s doing right now?

‘I’m so sorry Chris. I must be such a pain,‘ she says apologetically as she walks back into the room with her backpack, ‘if I’m lucky, I won’t have to come back tomorrow.‘ ‘You’re welcome anytime,‘ he says with a gentle smile. He looks at her in his shirt. The bordeaux henley shirt. He hadn’t even noticed that he had given her that one. It fits her well. The hem reaches a little over the middle of her thigh and the buttons are done so that they show just the right amount of cleavage. He can’t help but form a picture in his mind. Her in just his shirt sitting at the dinner table while he makes coffee for the both of them. What a wonderful image. ‘I better be welcome. I still have to drop your shirt off,‘ she jokes, ‘same time tomorrow?‘ Tomorrow? She still wants to run with him even after her shower is fixed? ‘Yeah, of course,‘ he smiles. ‘Are you coming over for lunch today?‘ He shakes his head: ‘No, not today. I have a lunch appointment.’ Her face drops a little bit. It’s just a little bit, but he notices. ‘Of course,‘ she pushes a smile onto her lips, ‘Monday it is then.‘ He nods. They say their goodbyes and Emma leaves for the day. Dodger tried to go after her like he’s been trying the last few days, but Chris holds him back. ‘I know buddy, I don’t want her to leave either,‘ he admits to his dog. At least his dog won’t be able to spill his secrets.

Monday rolls around and soon Emma is back at Chris’ door. Before they leave, she hands him his shirt with the promise that she washed it before she gave it back. He wouldn’t have minded either way, but he doesn’t tell her that. He just takes it and they go on their run. They had decided on a shorter run for the day since neither of them felt fully rested. Emma had wondered if Chris had laid awake for the same reason as her. Chris had wondered the same thing, but they didn’t ask each other. They never did. Both of them viewed their relationship as purely platonic even though both of them want more. During the run, she had teased him for having a hard time keeping up. She had called him grandpa as a joke, but the word kept running through his head. She had told him her age a few days back and it became one of the reasons he was keeping back. Emma is 26. He’d turn 39 this summer. That’s a difference of almost thirteen years. But it wasn’t just him. Emma had felt awkward too. Between his playful attitude and his inviting personality, she thought they were closer in age. This could turn bad if media caught wind of it. But that wasn’t all that bothered her. The whole reason her dad told her to stay away from the celebrities at the bar is because of the whole concept of the bar. If she became a celebrity by dating a celebrity, it would be difficult keeping up the secrecy of The Dutchess and she didn’t want that to ever happen. She had enjoyed running the place so much these past years. There was no way she was going to lose it now. Not because of a handsome actor after she encountered so many of them already.

With both of them lost in their thoughts, the run went pretty terrible for the both of them even if Emma managed to keep ahead of him. Back at Chris’ house they both down a glass of water and Emma almost wants to go on her way, but decides to talk to him for a little longer. ‘Bad day,‘ she asks Chris when both of them stand in the hallway. ‘What?‘ He looks at her a bit saddened. ‘Bad day,‘ she asks a little louder, ‘it looked like you were having trouble keeping up. You’re not overworking yourself, right?‘ His heart jumps a little at the thought that she cares about his health. ‘Oh, no, I was just taking in the view,‘ he says, ‘I normally don’t go down there. You showed me a whole new world.‘ She smiles brightly. She knows it’s just an excuse and he doesn’t want to admit he had a bad day but she doesn’t mind. He enjoys this look on her. Big smile on her flushed face, just nearly breathing normally, with a sweaty shine covering her body. ‘By the way, I brought something,‘ she grabs her backpack from the hallway. It’s still a strange sight to Chris to see her backpack in the hallway instead of in the bathroom. It’s a normal place for a backpack, but he had gotten so used to seeing her bring it inside. She reaches inside the backpack and gives him a present. It’s neatly wrapped in  wrapping paper with ducks all over it and some ribbons around it. ‘I know it’s your birthday next week, but I’ll be out of town then,‘ she explains, ‘so I thought I’d just give you your present now.‘ ‘Thank you so much, you didn’t have to do this.‘ He smiles brightly as he unwraps the paper. She gleams as he looks at the book in his hands. He smiles when he reads the title. ‘Whiskey, a tasting course,‘ he reads out loud. ‘And it comes with an invitation to try some whiskeys at The Dutchess,‘ she tells him. ‘Thank you so much. I love it,‘ he smiles and pulls her into a hug. Though he knows the book is to tease him a little bit, he enjoys it a lot. Sometimes he gets presents from co-stars and they’re always things he doesn’t need or doesn’t want that have cost too much. Her present is small and something she knows he likes. When they part she reaches in her bag again. ‘And I don’t really know when it’s Dodger’s birthday, but I thought I’d get him something too,‘ she hands Chris a squishy package. He opens it for Dodger and finds a small pluche animal with a squeaker inside. He bellows a loud laugh. ‘Are you trying to make me go insane,‘ he laughs, handing the toy to Dodger who starts aggressively biting it at the discovery that it makes noise. ‘Oh, damn, I didn’t know,‘ she says, but she knew. He can see the mischief in her face. ‘And my shower is fixed so you won’t have to worry about me leeching off you anymore.‘ ‘Really?‘ ‘Maybe,‘ she admits with a mischievous smile, ‘your shower is way nicer than mine, so I might just break in from time to time.‘ ‘You do know I have a very dangerous guard dog?‘ ‘Dodger would never hurt me.‘ ‘That’s true. I’m almost certain he’d leave me in the gutter to cuddle you,‘ Chris admits. 'Absolutely,’ she teases, ‘if he could, he’d go home with me.‘  ‘I wish you were kidding, but he always tries to follow you when you leave.‘ ‘I guess I’m just better than you,‘ she jabs at him with a huge grin on her face. ‘Is that so?‘ ‘It is,‘ she smirks, ‘I’m faster, sweeter, stronger-‘ ‘Stronger? We’ll see about that,‘ he laughs. Before Emma can asks what he means, he has her picked up and thrown over his shoulder. ‘Put me down Chris,‘ she yelps laughing and softly hits his lower back. ‘No way, not until you admit I’m stronger.‘ ‘You’re not stronger. If you’re Captain America, then I’m the hulk,‘ she laughs. ‘Oh, now you’re asking for it,‘ he smiles and walks over to the pool. ‘What? No. No!‘ He holds her above the water while she tries to fight out of his grip. ‘Admit I’m stronger.‘ She stops fighting, looks him straight in the eyes and says: ‘Never.‘ Next thing he hears out of her mouth is a scream about how cold the water is. He does decide to do the kind thing and help her out of the water. ‘You are terrible,’ she hisses between het teeth as she shivers like crazy. Chris actually feels a little bad about it. ‘But think about it, now you have a good reason to use my shower again,‘ he jokes. ‘Oh you best believe I’m using your shower,‘ she mopes, ‘and I’m stealing your clothes.‘ ‘Fair enough,‘ he admits, leading her inside. But before he realizes it, she pushes him on his chest. He loses his balance and ends up in the water as well. A string of curses leave his mouth when he comes back up. ‘Captain, language,‘ Emma teases before sprinting to the house to make it to the bathroom before him and avoid being thrown in again. He climbs out of the pool with a stupid grin on his face. Dodger comes up to him to check if he’s okay. Chris runs a wet hand over his fur. ‘I’m finished buddy,‘ he tells Dodger, ‘she’s going to be the death of me.‘ ‘Hey, you coming,‘ Emma calls from the front door. Chris looks up at her. ‘That was a dick move.‘ ‘Language!‘ ‘I’m showering first.‘

Sure, she let him shower first but he refused to go before he had her wrapped up in several towels so she wouldn’t get cold. Thing is, though its cold during the night, summer is well on it’s way and it’s terribly hot once eleven am passes and Emma is suffocating in towels, but she doesn’t dare take them off. Not when Chris tried so hard to keep her warm. She waits for the stupid giant to finish his showers while enjoying some Dodger cuddles. She wishes she could stay forever, but she can’t. She has to keep her reputation in mind.

After her own shower, Chris decided to drive her home so that she wouldn’t be seen in his clothes. This also gave him a reason to come inside and wait for her to change. And for the first time he saw the bliss that is Emma in sweatpants shorts and an oversized shirt. She handed him his clothes back and he couldn’t help but notice her scent lingering on them even though she only wore them for a minute. And suddenly words leave his mouth: ‘Are you doing anything tonight?’ ‘Me? No, Monday is my day off,‘ she tells him, ‘why?‘ ‘Do you want to watch some movies?‘ Emma’s head overflows. Movies? With Chris? Yes, of course she wants to. But what if movies turn into something more. She shouldn’t allow herself to indulge in something like that, but her lips move before she can stop them. ‘Sure, yours or mine?‘ ‘Though I’m quite curious about your place, I’ll let you decide,‘ he says. She smiles at the thought that he values her boundaries. ‘I don’t mind you coming to mine, but it’s quite small. I think your place is more suited for two people.‘ ‘Okay, so come around 6:30? We can eat dinner together?‘ ‘Sure.‘