#first time i’ve seen fire indoors i think

[shychili]

started the new year with a house fire 🥰

[sl-newsie]

Snow Day (Carlos de Vil x Silvermist Daughter) *Christmas Special* 🎄

'Can I request a Carlos descendants holiday fic with friends to lovers/everybody knows but them tropes? But the reader is an AK, adopted daughter of Silvermist.’ Here we go!

“No! Cut it out, Elvin!” I shout as I sprint through the icy wind. “You know I don’t like the cold!”

The white-blonde boy behind me jumps up to lean off a lamppost. “What’s the matter? Too afraid to have fun?”

I give an annoyed huff and hug my cape around me tighter. “Just because you’re the son of Jack Frost doesn’t mean you have to make my life a living nightmare with your pranks! Now for the last time, leave me alone!”

In a final effort I let out a water blast that sends Elvin flying into a snowbank, then dash down the street to hide inside Miss Muffet’s Bakery. 

“Oh- Sylvia! Hi! What’s going on-?!”

In my haste I almost run into a familiar face, though this is one face I am always excited to see!

“Shh!” I hold up a hand to silence Carlos. “I’m hiding!”

His eyes widen. “Oh!” He joins me behind the cookie display. “May I ask from whom?” Carlos whispers back.

“Ugh. It’s Elvin Frost. Son of Elsa and Jack Frost, and an icy pain in my side. He’s visiting from Arendelle, and has become the reason why I hate snow days.”

“Hate snow days?” Carlos laughs. “How could anyone hate snow days? I mean, look around!” He gestures to the billowing snow swirling around the window. “It’s so- so…”

“Magical?”

“Exactly!”

Ever since Carlos came to Auradon last summer, I’ve always been fond of his childlike energy. Not many kids in Auradon appreciate the little things like he does, so it goes without saying that we’d become friends. Mom’s always so busy controlling the water elements she didn’t have time to look after me, so she sent me to be adopted by Jack Beanstalk. But like Carlos, I’ve learned to enjoy other things. However, snow isn’t one of them.

“My wings can’t stand the bitter cold. If I stay outside too long, they freeze and wither away. It also doesn’t help that my water powers freeze in the winter. Water and cold do not mix well for me.”

Carlos’ face falls. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

I wave it off. “It’s alright.”

“It’s just that… we didn’t get snow on the Isle.”

That’s why he loves the snow. I can’t be mad at him for that. How could he have known anyway? It’s his first Christmas in Auradon, so he wouldn’t know.

“I guess if you’ve never seen it, snow can be very magical,” I attempt a cheerful smile. “I’m glad you enjoy it! You should go play outside.”

Carlos still isn’t convinced. “But it’s not as fun if you’re not there, Sylvia. Would you maybe wanna stay here for a hot chocolate?”

My spirits lift and my wings start fluttering. “That sounds wonderful! I’d love to!”

“Great! Um- maybe we could sit down instead of hiding behind the counter?”

I nod eagerly and start flying to a nearby table, too excited to remember not to use my wings indoors.

“Oh- right.” I flutter down, and my height difference shows. Since I’m the descendant of a fairy, I’ve been short my whole life.

“That never gets old,” Carlos comments with a grin.

I tilt my head in confusion. “What?”

“Your wings. I think they’re beautiful.”

His kind words send us both into blushing messes, so I try to change the subject.

"Where's Dude?"

Carlos chuckles. "He hates the cold, so he's currently sleeping in front of the fire in my dorm."

By now a waitress shows up to take our order.

“What’ll it be, hon?”

I don’t miss a beat. “A large old-fashioned hot chocolate extreme with peppermint dust, whipped cream, and marshmallows, please!”

Carlos’ jaw drops. 

I roll my eyes. “It’s my favorite holiday drink, I don’t care if it gives me a heart attack.”

“It sounds fantastic! I’ll have one too!” He smiles at the waitress, who just nods and walks off.

This snow day just got so much better!

Evie’s POV

“We’ve got to get them together!” I huff as I pace the dorm room.

“But they are together,” Jay states bluntly. “Haven’t you seen them around?”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, they need to know that they love each other, right? It’s like they’re completely oblivious to it!”

Jay lazily gets up from the couch and walks over to the window. “I wouldn’t say they look too upset.”

“What?”

I dash over and peer through the frosted glass to see Carlos and Sylvia walking hand-in-hand through the snow, each holding to-go mugs.

“Oh my God. Are they on a… date?”

Jay shrugs. “Guess we don’t gotta step in after all.”

I’m still unconvinced. “No, no. It’s been going on like this for months! They look happy hanging out together, but won’t confess their feelings! Come on!” I grab Jay’s sleeve and start dragging him out the door. “I want to see this for myself!”

Sylvia’s POV

Ok, if all snow days involve drinking hot chocolate with Carlos then I want one every day! 

“What’s been your favorite snow activity?” I ask Carlos, who keeps looking at the snow outside as if we’re in a real-life snow globe.

“Definitely making snowmen. Or snowball fights! Wait- have you ever ice skated?”

I let out a carefree laugh as I sip my cocoa. “Yes, it comes very naturally when I can control water.”

“What’s your favorite snow activity?”

I come to a stop in the flurrying snow, remembering how much I used to love winter as a kid.

“I… I liked making snow angels,” I whisper.

Carlos gets an unreadable expression. “Why don’t you now?”

I shake my head and gesture to the frozen ground. “I don’t like risking direct snow contact with my wings. Plus, all the snow that melts under me begins to freeze to my cape.”

The freckled VK looks distant for a second, then seems to get an idea. 

“Wait a sec!” He quickly slides off his own coat and lays it on the fluffy snow. “Now you have a double cover!”

I smile sadly at his thoughtful gesture. “Carlos, that’s really sweet. But I’m not sure-”

“Come on, it’ll only be for a second!” Carlos takes my hand and pulls me closer. “We’ll head straight back indoors, I promise.”

I must admit, Carlos’ pleading eyes combined with the sparkling snow is all too taunting to pass up despite my usual refusals.

With a deep breath, I hug my cape tighter around me and turn around to gently lie down on the soft blanket of snow. The cooler surface is refreshing, flooding my mind with childhood memories. Slowly, I bring my arms out to form the angel, and when I do I feel Carlos lay down beside me.

“Are you having fun?” He asks sincerely.

“Yes,” I answer in a relaxed tone, then seem to rethink something. “Carlos… Do you like spending time with me?”

Carlos doesn’t take more than 2 seconds to respond. “Of course! You’re always so full of fun ideas, and having a water balloon fight with you is one of the best things ever!”

I nod. “Does that mean… you enjoy my company? You like… me?”

By now we’ve both realized where this conversation might be going, but thankfully Carlos doesn’t seem weirded out by it and doesn’t slide away.

“Ok, don’t water-blast me for this,” Carlos takes a deep breath. “Would you be mad if I said I did like you? Maybe… as more than a friend?”

Is this what I think it is?

“So is this a date?” I stand up and my wings start getting excited, threatening to shake loose from my cape. “Oh no- I can’t be out too long!”

Carlos sees my panicked face and stands up with me to dust the snow off my cape. Then out of nowhere, he sweeps me up bridal-style and rushes me across the grounds to the dorm building entrance. We don’t speak, there’s no need to. I trust him not to drop me. Through speaking with actions Carlos shows me just how much he cares, and it sends my spirits soaring. I don’t know if it’s the sugar in the hot chocolate or my dilated emotions, but my heart’s racing like a rabbit!

When we get inside and the warmth engulfs my wings again, Carlos gently lets me down.

“I supposed I did mean for this to be a date,” Carlos admits. “I’m sorry you got too cold.”

For some reason my stubborn eyes can’t leave his cute face. “It’s my fault, I got too excited. I just wish I could stand the cold longer so I could enjoy it with you,” I say in a sad tone.

“I’d keep you warm.” Carlos leans in closer and wraps his arms around me, firm enough to show his affection but not too tight to damage my wings.

Using what courage I can muster, I turn my head up. “I know you will.” And with that, I press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Carlos’ face goes as red as a cherry, and immediately I regret being so bold.

“I’m sorry! God, I’m so bad at this- I just messed everything up- and now you’re mad-!”

Carlos cuts me off by leaning in to kiss my lips and my eyes close on instinct. If it weren’t for my wings going into hummingbird mode, this would be a really tender moment. 

When we break apart to breathe, I hear Carlos let out a surprised gasp.

“Sylvia, um… As much as I love your wings, would you mind letting me down?” He jokes.

My eyes pop open and I look down to find that my wings have lifted us up a good 5 feet in the air.

“Oh! Right. Sorry about that,” I gush as I lower us down, with Carlos still hugging me to him.

“Does this mean we can have more snow dates?” I ask in a timid voice.

Carlos grins. “That sounds fun! I think I just found my new favorite snow activity!”

I mirror his happiness with my own smile and grip his hand. “I think we’ve had enough snow for today, so how about watching a Christmas movie?”

“Perfect!” 

Carlos starts leading me back to his dorm, and when we pass by Evie and Jay in the hallway I swear I hear Evie mutter “It’s about time.” 

God, I love snow days!

@laylasshiftingtonight

[horsetailcurlers2]

YET ANOTHER long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching grey’s anatomy for the first time (season FIFTEEN, bc i’m actually not sick of these yet)

-i don’t like this whole “she’s not really your sister” thing. like, it’s played for comedic effect and teddy is clearly just hormonal and panicking so whatever but i don’t like that.

-i don’t want to rehash owen x amelia. yawn. nor do i want to rehash owen x teddy. yawner.

-i like that we’re getting a *little* deeper into helms crush on meredith and that it’s not just comic relief

-why are there no doctors above the age of 45 in this entire hospital besides richard? they’re all so pretty, but at what cost?

-something is going to happen to this pregnant nurse… there’s a lot of focus on her out of the blue

-i love that almost this entire intern class is at least mildly gay

-bailey is pissing me off

-ted mosby!!! he looks a little slovenly for a date tbh. not to sound judgmental but like, she’s all dressed up and he isn’t.

-this guy is way chiller than ted mosby. i like this for her. i hope it doesn’t turn out really bad but i know it probably will

-is it worth it to watch station 19?? i kind of don’t want to tbh

-i forgot teddy was in new york until her friend passed in 9/11. i’m imagining an au in which teddy and addison knew each other in NYC in the 90s bc i think they should’ve interacted more

-the undiagnosable stomach issue is so clearly this patient’s suspicious heirloom lunch pail. like, duh.

-okay well i was wrong about that and now i’m embarrassed that i predicted that with such smug sureness and authority.

-playing “chasing cars” in spanish for the día de los muertos episode is an interesting choice. i think i like it??

-nurse debbie!!!! it’s been a while

-okay nvm that is NOT nurse debbie. they just have the same bangs

-everyone gets to have a tumor on this show. YOU get a tumor! YOU get a tumor!! and YOU get a tumor!!!

-richard no :(

-RICHARD, NO >:(

-as much as i hate the owen/amelia dynamic, i really LOVE this whole amelia and betty thing

-i DO NOT like meredith/deluca

-the only relationship that doesn’t completely bore or frustrate me right now is alex/jo but even then, they’re just kind of there, yk?

-i love that meredith has one format of outfit that she likes and that works for her and she sticks to it. relatable AF.

-why didn’t miranda just have a conversation with ben before she sprung the separation on him? he would have been more than understanding i think

-i really like teddy and koracick actually

-i’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop with betty :(

-did they change out writers and/or show runners?? the writing feels… cheesier almost? or maybe just like the emotional beats are less earned? i mean it’s always been delightfully soapy but it’s just different these past couple of seasons and i can’t put my finger on it

-betty/britney’s mom is baby from dirty dancing?????!!!!!

-alex just straight up not being able to understand the scottish accents is so fucking funny.

-i love it when bokhee has lines

-“it’s a real fire!!” alex, gleefully and wrapped in a homemade knit scarf while indoors

-richards reaction to they/them pronouns is very interesting and i think it’s definitely an accurate portrayal of how even the generally accepting and well meaning older people can sometimes struggle with that kind of stuff. like, he’s not trying to be ignorant or rude he’s just genuinely perplexed. “the world moves fast and i’m just trying to keep up”

-i SWEAR TO GOD if teddy gets back with owen instead of staying with tom i will start hitting things

-“you suffered for years bc of my brother so you should totally get together and move in with him”- megan hunt in a wig that’s almost as terrible as her advice

-nancy!!!

-the shepherd family dynamic is so interesting to me because we’ve heard about it from two different perspectives over the years (derek’s and things amelia has said mostly in PP) and what we’ve seen of them is mostly from derek and meredith’s perspective in which they seem nice if a bit overbearing.

-okay jeez kathleen is a piece of work. i’ve always liked nancy even though she is “mcbitchy”. i also can’t help but to think about how addison fit into all of this when she and derek were married lol.

-has amelia ever told her family about christopher?

-stop trying to push owen and teddy on me!!!! i hate it!!

-that is insurance fraud babe. is there not a way for them to do it pro bono or something??

-okay i can sense that teddy and owen is going to happen so i will not make any more notes about it bc all i have to say about it is some variation of “no! i hate it!”

-okay i lied because the way teddy is going about it makes me deeply upset. poor tom. also “he makes me laugh and feel safe but i don’t feel rage or passion or ecstasy” ????? i should hope you don’t feel rage??? owen hunt makes me enraged too but that doesn’t mean i want to kiss him on the mouth!!! jesus christ. just fuck tom i guess, right?

-WOAH. i was not vibing with merluca but he’s willing to go to prison for her??!!!

-there’s no way they’re really fired . meredith owns a good chunk of the hospital still, right??? not to mention there’s maybe three characters on this show that *haven’t* committed crimes/major ethical violations.

-i’ve been beefing with jackson for a few seasons now tbh

[criminal-minds-4-life]

A Christmas Dream With Spencer Reid

Based on this request warnings. Spencer, Christmas, happy, cabin

warnings. Absolutely nothing. It's pure Christmas fluffiness.

The magic of Christmas was in the air, especially in the cabin that you and Spencer were currently in. Rossi rented a winter cabin for you and Spencer after he overheard you telling Spencer how you've always dreamed of having a snowy Christmas in a beautiful cabin. He rented it for a whole month after Spencer saved up all of his vacation time to spend with you for Christmas.

It was a very large cabin with three bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a hot tub, a spacious kitchen, dining room, living room and den. The living room had a picture window that you and Spencer proudly displayed the Christmas tree the Rossi had delivered to your front door. It was the biggest Christmas tree either one of you had ever seen.

You decorated the entire cabin with multicolor lights, garlands, stockings and more and decorated the Christmas tree with multicolored lights and multi color ornaments.

Since Spencer really never had a Christmas growing up, you wanted to make sure that you gave him every Christmas cliche that you could. Including making Christmas cookies, a gingerbread house, decorating the Christmas tree, singing along with Christmas songs, and watching Christmas movies. And the snowy tradition of building a snowman. Growing up in Las Vegas, he had never seen snow, so this was going to be his first snowman.

It had been two weeks since you had arrived at the cabin and today was the day that you were going to build a snowman. You had already put up the Christmas tree, decorated it Garland and lit up every surface of the house, and built a gingerbread house. As well as watched many Christmas movies.

You and Spencer both got dressed up in your winter gear and went outside. Oh my gosh, it's cold. Spencer shivered and as he stepped out into the snow, you hadn't really been outside since arriving to the cabin. Enjoying the indoor Christmas activities to ever even think about going outside. Well, yes, honey, it's snow, you told him, giggling as he adjusted his scarf tighter, trying to make himself warmer.

You two Balled snow into the somewhat perfect snowman. It was a little lumpy, but it didn't really matter. After putting the snowman together, putting the Charcoal Lies and the carrot nose, Spencer looked at it and said it looks a little lumpy, nothing like the snowman that I've seen on the Christmas movies we've been watching.

He looked a little disappointed in his first snowman, but you thought that it was good and that you two made the perfect snowman together. I think he looks cute, you told him, bopping him on the nose. I'm going to name him Spencer Reid.

What? He shrieked. And doesn't look anything like me.

Well, no, not really. He doesn't. But since it was your first snowman, I wanted to name him after you. Well, in that case,

he's going to have to have a few accessories, he told you, removing his hat and scarf before putting them onto the snowman.

Now that Spencer was almost as cold as a popsicle, you two went inside and had some hot chocolate by the fire.

you know What's next on our list of things to do, don't you? You asked him, taking a sip of your hot chocolate. We need to make Christmas cookies.

OK, that could be fun, he told you, putting his cup of hot chocolate down, walking into the kitchen with you.

Making Christmas cookies with Spencer was like something straight out of a Hallmark Christmas movie. You both managed to get flour all over yourselves. It made a total mess out of the kitchen. While Christmas songs played in the background and you both giggled and baked the cookies, decorated them and then ended up beating them. They weren't half bad.

I do believe that sugar cookies are the best of Christmas cookies, you told him, taking a bite out of the fresh baked cookie.

I think so too. They pair well with the hot chocolate, he told you, taking a bite of the cookie.

It was getting late and it was beginning to get dark out, so you both got into your pajamas, Christmas ones of course, and sat in front of the TV for another Christmas movie.

What movie should we watch tonight? You asked him. We've already seen A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol. The Grinch, Elf and Polar Express.

I know we'll watch A Nightmare Before Christmas, you told him, popping the DVD into the player. You're gonna love it. It's both Christmas and Halloween.

After watching the movie and eating more of your Christmas cookies, as well as drinking more hot cocoa, it was time to go to bed. Spencer stood up off the couch and took your hand.

And walked you over into the hallway. This is definitely going to be a Christmas that I'll never forget, he told you, and then looked up to show you that there was mistletoe before pulling you close and kissing you underneath it.

This was definitely a Christmas dream come true, Spencer, you told him before kissing him again. It was a Christmas that you would never forget either, the best one of your life.

I hope that you enjoyed the story. I'm sorry that it took me so long to write it.

[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

A Christmas Dream with Spencer Reid

Based on this request warnings. Spencer, Christmas, happy, cabin

warnings. Absolutely nothing. It's pure Christmas fluffiness.

The magic of Christmas was in the air, especially in the cabin that you and Spencer were currently in. Rossi rented a winter cabin for you and Spencer after he overheard you telling Spencer how you've always dreamed of having a snowy Christmas in a beautiful cabin. He rented it for a whole month after Spencer saved up all of his vacation time to spend with you for Christmas.

It was a very large cabin with three bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a hot tub, a spacious kitchen, dining room, living room and den. The living room had a picture window that you and Spencer proudly displayed the Christmas tree the Rossi had delivered to your front door. It was the biggest Christmas tree either one of you had ever seen.

You decorated the entire cabin with multicolor lights, garlands, stockings and more and decorated the Christmas tree with multicolored lights and multi color ornaments.

Since Spencer really never had a Christmas growing up, you wanted to make sure that you gave him every Christmas cliche that you could. Including making Christmas cookies, a gingerbread house, decorating the Christmas tree, singing along with Christmas songs, and watching Christmas movies. And the snowy tradition of building a snowman. Growing up in Las Vegas, he had never seen snow, so this was going to be his first snowman.

It had been two weeks since you had arrived at the cabin and today was the day that you were going to build a snowman. You had already put up the Christmas tree, decorated it Garland and lit up every surface of the house, and built a gingerbread house. As well as watched many Christmas movies.

You and Spencer both got dressed up in your winter gear and went outside. Oh my gosh, it's cold. Spencer shivered and as he stepped out into the snow, you hadn't really been outside since arriving to the cabin. Enjoying the indoor Christmas activities to ever even think about going outside. Well, yes, honey, it's snow, you told him, giggling as he adjusted his scarf tighter, trying to make himself warmer.

You two Balled snow into the somewhat perfect snowman. It was a little lumpy, but it didn't really matter. After putting the snowman together, putting the Charcoal Lies and the carrot nose, Spencer looked at it and said it looks a little lumpy, nothing like the snowman that I've seen on the Christmas movies we've been watching.

He looked a little disappointed in his first snowman, but you thought that it was good and that you two made the perfect snowman together. I think he looks cute, you told him, bopping him on the nose. I'm going to name him Spencer Reid.

What? He shrieked. And doesn't look anything like me.

Well, no, not really. He doesn't. But since it was your first snowman, I wanted to name him after you. Well, in that case,

he's going to have to have a few accessories, he told you, removing his hat and scarf before putting them onto the snowman.

Now that Spencer was almost as cold as a popsicle, you two went inside and had some hot chocolate by the fire.

you know What's next on our list of things to do, don't you? You asked him, taking a sip of your hot chocolate. We need to make Christmas cookies.

OK, that could be fun, he told you, putting his cup of hot chocolate down, walking into the kitchen with you.

Making Christmas cookies with Spencer was like something straight out of a Hallmark Christmas movie. You both managed to get flour all over yourselves. It made a total mess out of the kitchen. While Christmas songs played in the background and you both giggled and baked the cookies, decorated them and then ended up beating them. They weren't half bad.

I do believe that sugar cookies are the best of Christmas cookies, you told him, taking a bite out of the fresh baked cookie.

I think so too. They pair well with the hot chocolate, he told you, taking a bite of the cookie.

It was getting late and it was beginning to get dark out, so you both got into your pajamas, Christmas ones of course, and sat in front of the TV for another Christmas movie.

What movie should we watch tonight? You asked him. We've already seen A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol. The Grinch, Elf and Polar Express.

I know we'll watch A Nightmare Before Christmas, you told him, popping the DVD into the player. You're gonna love it. It's both Christmas and Halloween.

After watching the movie and eating more of your Christmas cookies, as well as drinking more hot cocoa, it was time to go to bed. Spencer stood up off the couch and took your hand.

And walked you over into the hallway. This is definitely going to be a Christmas that I'll never forget, he told you, and then looked up to show you that there was mistletoe before pulling you close and kissing you underneath it.

This was definitely a Christmas dream come true, Spencer, you told him before kissing him again. It was a Christmas that you would never forget either, the best one of your life.

[starlightswitch]

Newbie Misunderstanding

@flashfictionfridayofficial Annnnd another late one because apparently I only get ideas at 11 o'clock or later now.

At the last cast party, the seniors disappeared into the basement and came up with funny awards for everyone in the cast and crew. Usually. This year the last cast party was at Joshua’s house and it didn’t have a basement– just a garage that had two cars and a bunch of outdoors equipment and no room for a conference– so the seniors took over the living room and made everyone else stay in the kitchen. This left the kitchen so packed that, even though it was mid-November and close to freezing outside, people started drifting outside. Someone got the firepit going. Michaela sat in one of the chairs near it, shivered when she felt the cold of the metal through the cushion, and moved up to sit on the wall instead. It was low enough her feet almost touched the ground.

Ren came and sat by her. After a bit of conversation about the play being over and the director being right about post-show depression and they were already looking forward to fall drama and what might the show be? they lapsed into silence.

No one else was staying by the fire for long. Most people seemed to be trading off the crowded indoors for the cold outdoors.

“You want to go in?” Ren asked after a while.

“If I wanted to go in I’d go in.”

“You look… maybe… cold.”

“Well, I’d rather be cold than… crowded in there with everybody.”

“Still.” He slid closer to her, and it was nice that he was warm.

“Thanks,” said Michaela, and then looked up in surprise when Ren grabbed her hand.

“Your hands are cold too,” he said, pressing hers between both of his.

“Always are. Are you cold?” she asked, turning to look at him when she thought she felt him shiver. Their faces were very close.

He hesitated, the firelight flickering over his face. “Nervous, maybe.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve never been this close to you before. Well, when a director hadn’t told me to. I appreciated it when a director told me to.”

There was a pleasant little twist in Michaela’s stomach. She leaned a little closer, and when he didn’t close the distance, she did.

It was a light kiss. Then he smiled and leaned in for another, longer one.

They stopped when the door opened, both quickly looking that way. The silhouette stopped near the house, didn’t come toward the fire, probably because they had seen what was happening there.

“So…” Ren shifted. “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?”

“Well, um… do you like kissing or do you like me?”

Michaela laughed, but caught herself and made sure it was gentle. “I…” Suddenly she was remembering a lot of times he’d made quiet jokes she’d laughed at, or given her encouraging looks when she got notes she was clearly frustrated with. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I think I could.”

“Could… like me?”

“Yeah.” She grinned and gave him another light kiss. “I definitely think I could.”

When someone yelled for them to get inside because the seniors had finally risen from their graves and awards were about to start, she got up and said with a lightness that came from knowing that someone liked her back– liked her first– “You sure this isn’t just, you know, the emotions of the show being over and…”

He stood up and kissed her again, and with their faces close he said, “Definitely not.”

And then he didn’t speak to her again.

Okay, maybe he hadn’t copied the cast phone list into his phone like she had, and maybe he hadn’t been able to catch her after awards were over since Joshua’s parents didn’t want people in their house until all hours so that was basically the end of the party. He could have gotten her number from someone else.

She cornered him backstage at strike the next day. “So you didn’t mean it?”

“Mean… what?”

“Did I misunderstand?”

“What?”

“You didn’t text me.”

“I… Did I tell you I would text you?”

“You said you liked me, and it wasn’t just post-show emotions.”

“It wasn’t, and I do like you!”

It was the most frustrated she’d ever heard him, and probably the loudest. Michaela almost looked over her shoulder to see if anyone working on the stage had heard. “So you didn’t text me…?”

He took a deep breath. “I was hoping you would text me. I, um. I don’t really know how this works.”

“How what works?” Michaela noticed too late that still sounded like she was interrogating him. She tried to think of something to assure him…

“How a relationship works.” He ducked his head. “I haven’t really… been in one before.”

“I haven’t either,” Michaela pointed out.

“How is that possible?”

It was even more of a compliment because he said it with such surprise.

She shrugged and said, even surprising herself a little, “Nobody even liked me before.”

He kept looking at her with surprise, and then he reached for her hand. “Do you want to figure out how together? How to be in a relationship?”

She squeezed his hand and grinned. “Definitely.”

[kumkaniudaku]

Prompt Request : “I’ve never wanted to lick the buffalo hot wings sauce out of someone’s mouth but here we are.” Reader x Damson Idris 😊

Dating for Damson was complicated. Star power had its drawbacks, and not dating like a normal 30 year old was at the top of the very short list.

He wasn’t afraid of the often talked about gold digger or meeting an overzealous fan. He was terrified of not living up to the expectation many women had concocted on internet forums and in his private messages. As charming as he usually was, the pressure to always entertain was stifling. He just wanted a good time. A chance match on an dating app had him hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.

She was a cute girl. The prompts on her profile painted her as an ambitious geek with a passion for baking and Call of Duty. He doubted the last one, but struck up a conversation solely based on a pair of Prada heels in one of her photos. The words flowed effortlessly for two weeks until she extended the invitation to a mini golf attraction. Standing in front of the building while a Spring chill in Atlanta tried to cool off the muggy evening, he was starting to believe that she’d pulled the greatest vanishing act he’d seen thus far.

“Damson?”

A pleasant Southern drawl caught his attention before bringing him face to face with the woman of the hour.

“Oh wow,” he uttered louder than intended. When her expression showed a bit of confusion, he straightened up and extended his hand. “I meant, yes. Damson. Alicia, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting. Did you get my text?”

Confusion came before his embarrassment. Had he carried both of his phones, he likely would’ve received what ever explanation she’d sent. But the absence of his business phone killed any chance of that.

“Uh, no. I left my other phone at my place and-”

“Damn, I’m in the fake phone? We startin’ on the wrong foot already,” she laughed. When Damson let off an awkward chuckle in response, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m joking. If we’re gonna be out tonight, you gotta loosen up. I didn’t touch up these braids for nothin’.”

“Oh so, that’s why you were late? And here I was cancelling my hair appointment to be on time for you!”

Their shared laughter rang out in the crowded parking garage, drawing attention that only made them laugh harder.

Easy energy kept the conversation light as Damson and Alicia rolled through rounds of indoor mini golf. Her competitive streak led to back and forth tales of their days as athletes between lessons on British slang. For the first time in over a year, Damson felt comfortable enough to drop pieces of his public persona and slip into a more comfortable version of himself. Talking to her felt like second nature. Each corny joke and song lyric reference had him wondering what she’d be like on date two, three or more.

“So, how you likin’ the city?” Alicia asked after wiping hot wing sauce from her mouth for the 100th time.

“Eh, it’s alright. It’s not Peckham or LA, but it’ll do.”

Alicia studied Damson’s sideways grin before rolling her eyes. “You like seeing me fired up, huh?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because ain’t no way you’d blaspheme my hometown and not think that I won’t pipe up.”

“Ooh, pipe up. I’ll add that to my Urban Dictionary research list.” He watched her roll her eyes again with a laugh. “One thing I will say is that wings here are top 10 in the world.”

“If we don’t do nothing else, we gone fry and sauce a wing! Stick around long enough and I’ll take you for some at one our local gourmet establishments.”

“Local gourmet? Is this a steakhouse or…”

“I’m sure they can throw a steak on for you down at The Flame or Magic.”

“The Fla…” Damson’s voice trailing made Alicia giddy with anticipation while he slowly came to a slow realization. “You’re trying to take me to a strip club.”

“And a couple other places if tonight goes as planned.”

The pair shared bashful stares across the table before diverting to get a look at their surroundings. Damson felt the long forgotten flutter or butterflies in his gut and chuckled at himself. Feeling for a random dating app link wasn’t in the plan. But Alicia felt like a change of pace that he was willing to explore.

“So, we sh-”

“Is it cool if I-”

Laughter took over the conversation to cover their embarrassing blunder.

Damson nodded to give Alicia the go ahead. “Ladies first.”

Alicia released a shaky breath to steady the words on the tip of her tongue before speaking. The corners of her mouth turned up into a flirtatious smile.

“Look, I don’t believe in beating around the bush. I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night. And I feel like we’re on the same page about that the way you keep looking at my lips, but let me know if I’m wrong about that.”

“I have been looking at your lips,” Damson admitted. “But mainly because you are smashing those wings and you have sauce all over your mouth.”

Alicia’s face morphed into a horrified expression while she rushed to get a look at her lips in her phone’s camera. Before she could finish the motion, Damson carefully gripped her wrist.

“I didn’t say entirely. I’ve never wanted to lick the buffalo hot wings sauce from someone’s mouth before, but here we are.”

The world around them seemed to slow as they searched for reassurance in each other’s eyes. A tentative move forward from Alicia led Damson to mirror her actions until there lips met and electricity made them tingle from head to toe.

Damson was the first to break the kiss and smile.

“Okay so, there are two things I like about Atlanta.”

[dameronology]

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

--

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

[shotorozu]

their favorite clothes

— .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ 2.5k followers milestone

character(s) : multiple characters (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] gender neutral— they/them pronouns, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, spice if you squint but not nsfw (x reader)

note(s) : this is what would be their favorite clothes (that they own) on you. thank you all for 2.5k 🤍 also im so sorry for the lack of posts, and im gonna be real about this— it was my writer’s block 💀 good news, it’s gone now :)

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

midoriya izuku

↛ honorable mention — his hero costume

↛ he absolutely loves it when you wear his shirts, like— i’m sure you know which one im talking about. the one that says ‘t シャツ’ i don’t know! his fashion sense isn’t the MOST fashionable, and the t-shirt itself isn’t very appealing to most eyes, but he absolutely adores how it looks on you. look, you can be the tallest being on this earth, to the point it makes his shirt look like a crop top on you, or you could be literally 4’5 and make the shirt look like a dress, he doesn’t care at all. he just loves how it looks on you, it makes him feel all warm on the inside, kinda like a *heart squeeze* moment, y’know? and no, there’s no exaggeration. he’ll just stop, and look at you when you wear his shirt. it’s just so personal, and he loves it.

bakugou katsuki

↛ honorable mention — though sweaty, his hero costume, and literally any other piece of clothing he has.

↛ then again, you could literally wear any kind of clothing of his, and you could have a ring adorning that finger of yours by the end of the day. he likes to pretend he’s absolutely not infatuated by the way his clothes look on you. if you force him to say what’s his favorite, he’ll mutter out ‘black tanktop’ because how could he not say that?? have you seen how delectable you look in that tanktop of his? it’s a surefire way to render him speechless, from the moment you walk into the room, to the moment you leave it— those gorgeous red irises will be on you. similar to midoriya, katsuki doesn’t care if you’re tall or short— just,,, wear his clothes, and if you want to seal in the future, then the black tanktop is the way to go. because he’ll probably get mad at you if you don’t wear his clothes to bed

todoroki shouto

↛ honorable mention — shouto’s button up shirt from his old hero costume, even though his old hero costume was HIDEOUS

↛ in his opinion, he loves anything on you (yeah, even a trashbag) but he does really love how you wear his turtle neck, he loves the fit. how it either loosely fits on you, or how it snuggly hugs your form— it really doesn’t matter. anything you wear would look really high end in his opinion, quite literally anything. but his black turtle neck really takes the cake. oh boy, when he saw you wear it for the first time, he froze up and almost charred his feet, cheeks firing up a warm red to match his scar. he has the money to buy a bunch of replicas of that exact black turtle neck, and he could give it to you but,, no. how could he do that? how do you look absolutely stunning in such a simple turtle neck? he doesn’t really know. anyways! he eventually ends up unofficially making the turtle neck yours, and he only wears it when he needs to douse his scent into the fabric once more— when it has almost completely faded away.

kirishima eijirou

↛ honorable mention — i wouldn’t say there’s an honorable mention, since he’s extremely loyal to his statements.

↛ his boxers. there, i’ve said it— and wait for a sec, let me explain. it’s not what you think, and you’d expect it to be like that but no, it’s not. at first, he thought you looked great in something simple as his sweater, or shirts but you were running out of clothes during laundry day— so you rummaged through your boyfriend’s clothing drawer, and pulled out a pair of red boxers, with black trimming. when he saw it peaking under your oversized shirt, he swear he saw the heavens. and from that moment on, you found yourself frequently wearing his boxers, but more specifically that pair. no, i’m serious— eijirou will get all pouty if you actually don’t wear his boxers, even when most of them are in the laundry. why does he like them so much? hm,, maybe it’s the security, and knowing that he’ll be the only one to see you in his boxers.

kaminari denki

↛ honorable mention — his boxers but you say no because he’s quite gross about it 🤢 anyways,

↛ his shorts. yes, they’re not the same as his boxers, but they’re the kind of shorts that you lounge in. now, i know you thought i was going to say “ooo he’s love to see you in a sweater with a lighting bolt embroidered in the middle!!”but then, the thing with these shorts was that he’s literally had them since he was in what,, the end of middle school im surprised they still fit, but they’re so dear to him? in a way that seeing you in those exact shorts makes his heart stop— only for it to start up again. thing with these shorts is that they’re oddly so,, pretty? i mean, his wardrobe is so questionable, but these shorts? there’s a mini reflective lighting bolt logo imprinted on the corner of the shorts. so quite literally, you’re seen with these shorts a lot— and the bakusquad give him hell for that 💀

monoma neito

↛ honorable mention — uh,, he does say that he ‘doesn’t know what you’re talking about! i don’t have more favorites on Y/N’ but you know damn well he does have more than one

↛ his hero costume, because well,, it’s very fashionable! but it doesn’t really look like he’s such a big fan of the entire ‘i wear your clothes!’ thing. because his clothes are his clothes, and your clothes look good on you anyway, end of the story! but if you do force him to say anything, he’ll admit that he does love seeing you in his hero costume. neito once walked in on you wearing his hero costume, and as to be expected— he made fun of you, but he did really like how it looked on you. but i suppose that’s the power you have on him, and he’ll admit it when he wants to, otherwise— he’s just teasing you for now. but pls wear it :,) he’ll basically be at your feet for the entire time

shinsou hitoshi

↛ honorable mention — a black sweater that has a silhouette of a purple cat printed at the center. it’s his favorite sweater, that’s why.

↛ his sweatpants. you and hitoshi had to switch clothes for a dare at a sleepover, and when he saw you in his lounging sweatpants, that’s what did him in. ever since then, he’s been quite obsessed with seeing you in them. hitoshi could care less about the sizing aspect, he just loves seeing you in his sweatpants— and it is quite a treat to come back from an especially gnarly day at school, and to be greeted by you lounging in his clothes, ‘instant recharge’ he says. he finds himself toying with the string of the sweatpants, when you’re on his lap, pressing kisses on his cheeks. anyways— if you want to kill him even more, then you should wear his sweater AND his sweatpants. he might as well just lock you in his room for him to keep forever (he’s not serious about that.) but it does surprise some people, because they never would’ve expected shinsou hitoshi to be the clingy/needy type. but you’re the only one that gets to see it indoors.

amajiki tamaki

↛ honorable mention — his button up shirt, i’m sure theres a gif of him wearing one in the anime somewhere, and i hope you know what i mean

↛ not really a clothing article he wears on the daily, but his cape. omg his cape. he sort of glitched out when he came back from interning, and saw you snuggling on the couch with his cape. like,, are you trying to unalive him? and he’s not slick about it either— everytime he comes back, and sees you using his cape as a blanket, draped over your shoulders, he nearly faints. it’s that intense, that’s why nejire and mirio brought his hero costume’s cape and gave it to you when it was time to sleep— he couldn’t get a wink of sleep because of the image of you with his cape, ugh! anyways, he does manage to leave it with you when he has to go away for a bit, because it says that it’s almost like he’s there with you. tamaki usually has to scramble on why he doesn’t have his usual cape.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[deniigi]

Lando The Nosy Neighbor AU

Title: good fences make good neighbors

Summary: Modern AU based off the premise presented to me as ‘Han and Leia move into the same neighborhood and start a feud, only to eventually overthrow the local Homeowner’s Association.’

Relationships: Pot-farmer!Han/Lawyer!Leia; Farmboy!Luke/Survivalist!Din; Lando & Breha Organa & Chewbacca

This is based off a rural community in Washington which has local cults.

Lando POV

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

A hippy has moved in next to the Organas.

It’s a good one, too. This one hasn’t even rented a moving truck, they’ve just come on over with all their furniture tetris-ed in on top of itself and wrapped tight with rope, blankets, and prayer.

Lando’s petunias screech for watering as the hippy throws open the truck’s door and comes staggering out, cracking his lanky back. Out of the other side comes an even hairier, even lankier person. He closes the truck door and looks right at Lando.

He stares.

It is a challenge. But of course, not one that Lando is not prepared to handle.

He points at his watering can.

Hippy Two seems to scoff.

Lando waits until he’s distracted by the first hippie struggling with the blue house’s doorknob to dump the remaining water into the pebbles under his ornamental bridge.

He returns inside and goes about his busy business, tying back the curtains.

It is always good to have someone new in the neighborhood.

--

 It takes the hippy couple a few weeks to get settled into their new home, and in that time neither has ingratiated themselves to Lando.

The stupid one with the floppy hair caught onto Lando’s tricks at the weekly poker match held in the local bar. Lando may have lost his irrigation system, but he has not lost his dignity. It was old anyways. He’s been planning to replace it for nearly a year now. There is never a better time than the present to start making your dreams into reality.

And anyways, the floppy haired out-of-towner will get what is coming to him. Lando has already sown the seed of his demise.

Leia Organa returned home to look after her poor, sick, stubborn mother just two months ago. Breha is fine, of course, not even cancer could snuff out her fires, although she is bored of her husband and daughter trying to trap her indoors. Her immunocompromised escapades have been delightful to watch.

The Organas are always a lively group. There is never a dull moment or lack of machinations among them—especially the lady of the household. She, like Lando, appreciates a good tussle. Which is why he has pointed out to Leia that her new neighbors’ greenhouse is mighty interesting, is it not?

Lawyer Leia’s ears pricked up like a horse’s, and Breha’s sharp eyes took on new sheen.  

Lando watches Leia in the mornings now, struggling to find upper-body strength and purchase on the wood of her backyard fence, among the roses and bougainvillea. She’s so tiny, Leia. Breha is not an overly large person either, and thus is no help in this endeavor to collect data on the greenhouse of questionable origins and purposes on the other side of the fence. Leia doesn’t need her, though. She needs no one. She’s seen what she needs to.

Lando pours tea from a glass pot given to him by someone in his company who wishes for their secrets to remain so and beautiful, clear amber liquid fills his cup.

He looks up to see Leia holding her phone out as far as she can without relinquishing her grip on the fence. She fumbles, trying one-handedly to document the crime before her, but alas. Even the mighty sometimes trip on the red carpet.

The phone slips. She grabs after it in slow-motion, horror filling every pore of her face.

It is gone now, that phone.

The Public Nuisances will know what she has been up to.

Lando sighs and leans back in his seat.

--

 It is no time at all before the dropped phone is returned graciously over the white, waist-height fence that separates the Public Nuisance’s yard from the Organas’. Leia snatches her phone back and wipes it off with her hand and sleeve. The shorter public enemy, Han, he calls himself, smiles at her cheekily. He retracts his hand and gestures to the taller fence, barely visible for the fruit trees and vines, between their backyards and says something that makes Leia go very, very still.

It is, undoubtedly, a challenge. Not unlike the one that that the more polite public nuisance, Chewie, opened his and Lando’s relationship with.

Chewie has explained without mincing his words, that he and Han have come here because their last venture was lost in a snowstorm. Chewie will be damned if his precious seedlings are so callously frosted over again. The Pacific Northwest has no chance of freezing over, he says. It provides a better setting to grow stock.

Weed, he means. Marijuana. Chewie is again, not shy. He and Han make good money supplying dispensaries with their organic, hand dried leaves. It is apparently ‘artisan’ like in quality.

Lando isn’t sure he’d go that far, but yes, it is nice stuff. And yes, Leia, bastion of justice, does need to see the men’s permits.

Lando opens the window for a breeze and catches Han telling Leia that he’ll produce them if she arm wrestles him for the right to witness their authenticity. Leia agrees. Han fetches a small worktable from the house’s garage and sets it between them.

The match is over within seconds. Leia has never been so insulted in her life. She demands a rematch and, out of sheer indulgence, Han gives it to her.

He is nearly a foot taller than her. He could lift her up and over her own fence with ease if he so desired. He wins the next round. And the next one. He loses the last one by reason of having his leg deadened under the table but stands abruptly to renegade on his earlier promise.

“You watch yourself, princess,” he calls over his shoulder with his hand on his front door’s knob.

“Oh, I’ll be watching,” Leia snarls back.

Han slams the door. Chewie looks from him to Leia standing fuming in the shade of her family’s pine trees.

��Unbelievable,” she snaps at him before stomping off herself. “UNBELIEVABLE.”

Lando flicks his eyes up to see Breha’s dining room window wide open. She too, has a cup of tea. She lifts it his way and he lifts his back.

Finally, some quality entertainment once more.

--

 Han and Leia’s hatred has become neighborhood gossip. They have begun going to extraordinary lengths to gain the others’ attention. For example, Han, in weeding his sparce flowerbeds, was careful to shove the fruits of his labor between the fence slats into Bail’s well-tended herb garden. Bail, ever the gentleman, does not mind, but of course Leia feels that her family honor has been spat upon. She collects the weeds and returns them to her owner, via mailbox. It is kind of her to put the flag down, so Han knows that he’s received a message.

The retaliation is a mural in rainbow colors commissioned by Han and painted by one of the budding young teenagers from a school about a thirty minute drive downtown. It is...psychedelic. And facing Leia’s bedroom window.

Han asked the youth who painted it to add in a figure in the center of the composition; it is a brown-haired woman dressed all in white, surrounded by thorny vines, and attempting to climb a fence. The young artist must have felt like Michelangelo in the application of those delicate strokes of artistry. They knew they were creating something holy.

Han helps that along by bracketing the figure with solar lanterns that light up at night and keep the image fully illuminated.

When Lando arrives to Breha’s side to go on a walk, arm in arm, with her and her beast of a terrier, she giggles like a schoolgirl behind her hand.

“Han is very handsome,” she tells Lando.

“He’s alright,” Lando says.

“I think he and Leia are a perfect match. Will for will. No one’s ever dared to cross her like this.”

Now that is a fact.

“I wonder if this is the start of something more,” Breha says.

“What does your husband think?” Lando asks.

Breha waves him off dismissively.

“Oh, you know. He’s convinced that Leia will kill Han in his sleep, and we will be forced to post bail, but I told him—as I’ve told you, Lando—Leia’s too smart to get caught committing axe murder. Now poisoning, that’s a different story.”

--

 Lando wakes up and makes coffee. He turns on his computer and opens his curtains to let the light pour in and warm his hardwood floors. He stands at the window, hiding a smirk behind his mug.

Leia has had enough. She has called the Home Owner’s Association and they are standing at Han’s front doorstep.

--

 It is about three weeks before Han and Leia have overthrown the Home Owner’s Association for interfering in their escalating romance—ahem—bloodfeud. By then, Lando’s work-from-home situation is suffering. It is impossible to focus with those two cluttering up his view with distractions left and right. He determines that, for the sake of his finances, he must direct his attention to something a little further afield.

The Lars’s vegetable stand is becoming something of an institution.

It’s about a mile or so out of Lando’s way, tucked smack in the middle of the battlefield that is the stretch of land between the survivalist cult that lives in the forest and the pseudo-Buddhists that live in their compound. The farm itself is a few acres and the Lars’s son can be seen walking around, herding livestock out of the road and into pastures.

Lando has heard whispers that this son is none other than Leia’s twin brother, but no one has the nerve to directly ask the Organas about the truth of such a scandalous idea. The most that can be said about Luke Lars-Skywalker is that he is a master of social media.

He has created a Youtube channel and an Instagram to document the practices of his family’s farm and the products they produce. He is in a twitter-war with many communities online for his videos on small-scale bee-keeping, and his family’s stand is proudly boycotted by the vegan association in the city on farmer’s market days.

It has become well-known among the farm-to-table restaurants in the city, though, and that is why Luke keeps on keeping on with his cows and his fowls and his silly camera holder.

But all that means little because Luke Lars-Skywalker is in love.

Anyone with eyes can see it.

He is in love with an ancestral enemy.

See, in this area there are not one, but two cults and naturally, they abhor and reject the others’ teachings. To the south are the pseudo-buddhist, clairvoyants who have fashioned themselves more or less as monks preoccupied with meditation, self-development, and a few fairly mystical beliefs among the rather terrifying devotion to martial arts. To the north are the survivalist whack-jobs who don’t believe in electricity or running water, but who are also, somehow, preoccupied with self development and a terrifying devotion to martial arts.

Both groups have publicly denounced the other as misguided extremists.

The rumors say that Luke and Leia’s biological father is one of the clairvoyants, and this is where the heart of the current delightful irony lays.

Luke Lars-Skywalker is in love with one of those survivalists.

Lando knows this because he has seen it with his very own eyes.

He took a trip a while back to purchase some greens from the vegetable stand and he was there for a little while, picking through the selection, when he looked up and saw Luke’s posture explode out of its lax boredom. Lando looked over his shoulder to see what Luke’s tan, freckled attention had latched onto and lo and behold.

It was a man. And not only a man, a man with a baby.

Luke stuffed knuckles into his mouth to keep from cooing as the father of the child nodded at him and meandered over to have a poke through the produce piled up on the stand. The baby, dressed carefully in layers of warm, water-resistant clothing, watched Luke right back. He smiled and grunted, waving his dark, stubby arms and Luke melted—literally collapsed into a fraction of his size behind the paystation.

The father, a white rugged guy with dark curly hair and a great deal of stubble, shifted the baby to his other arm. His worn, heavy clothing and the military-style canvas sack on his back marked him as one of the Cabin-In-the-Woods people.

Lando felt like he was watching a country romance flick in real life.

Luke gathered his courage and approached the dad and baby to ask if they were looking for anything in particular. The baby immediately held hands out to him. Luke asked the father if he could hold the little one. The father said ‘no.’

Lando nearly choked on his own spit.

“Oh, sorry buddy,” Luke said to the baby. “Daddy thinks I’m gonna eat you up.”

“He just got a bath.”

Luke gooey expression hardened in an instant.

“Excuse you. You sayin’ I’m dirty?” he asked. “You sayin’ I smell like horseshit?”

The father stared at Luke wordlessly.

“Pigshit,” he corrected.

“WHAT.”

Lando no longer needed only greens. He had to pick a cheese from this bountiful pile. Oh dear, so many to choose from.

“I said, you smell like pigshit. And he just got a bath,” the survivalist father said. “How much for the tomatoes?”

“Twenty a pound,” Luke said viciously.

“That’s steep.”

“There’s a discount for people who smell like pigshit.”

“You get a lot of those?”

“No, but I know how to wallow in the time between buyers.”

“Are you angry or something?”

“Take your damn tomatoes.”

“I didn’t pay yet—”

“Just take ‘em. Go. Go.”

“Twenty—?”

“Hey, Mr. Calrissian, that’ll be ten-fifty,” Luke said over the protests.

That was then. This is now. And Luke Lars-Skywalker has not let up on his tirade against this survivalist. Nor, it is important to note however, has the survivalist stopped coming to the vegetable stand when Luke is working it.

What is even more is that Lando can see with his own two eyes that the survivalist is not holding his baby at the vegetable stand now, as Lando closes his car door a little ways from the stand. Luke smiles at Lando as he draws near; he is bouncing at the knees. He waves the baby’s hand in greeting and the child gurgles and twists back to grab at his face.

Lando smiles and does not say anything.

He finds Chewie inspecting a sprinkler at the edge of his and Han’s yard on the way back and crosses the street to inspect it with him. It sputters. Chewie suspects outloud that their squirrels are getting stronger and more destructive by the day.

Lando asks him if he’s been the Lars’s vegetable stand since moving into town.

He has.

Lando asks if he’s ever seen Luke there, holding a baby.

He has.

Lando is smug.

“Mr. Rugged Mountain Man is falling for the farm boy,” he tells Chewie.

Chewie lifts a thick eyebrow.

“One day soon, that baby is going to go from living off the grid to living in a barn,” Lando tells him. “Mark my words.”

Chewie tells him that that is impossible without a kidnapping charge because the Rugged Mountain Man is the straightest man that he’s ever seen. Lando tells him not to judge a book by its cover.

Weirder things have happened. Han and Leia, for example.

Chewie tells him that he knows that Lando is somehow responsible for those two’s newly inescapable sexual tension and he will never forgive him for it.

Lando cannot believe his ears. Him? An instigator? Of course not, Chewie. He is but a humble spider, waiting around in his house for a fly to shake things up. He is an observer, nothing more, nothing less.

Chewie just points a finger at him.

Lando points a finger-gun back. He fires it with a click of his tongue.

[maleficarwarden]

ZevWarden week 2022 Day 7 – Seasons of the year (holidays, weather, etc.)

Pairing: Zevran/Nellan Surana (M/M), Rating: T, with suggestive flirting. Set post-origins, as Nellan and Zev travel around Thedas looking for adventures.

Summary: Zev is not used to the horrid mountain climate. Unluckily, his dear Warden is intent on going to a festival in a snow-covered village. Luckily, his fiance is a fire mage.

Read on ao3.

“So what is this festival supposed to be again?” Zev asked, raising his eyebrow, barely visible from under the hood he regrettably had to wear so as not to freeze his ears off in the harsh mountain climate they were in. And he thought Haven had been cold. Foolish, really.

“I think they called it Cheeseweek.” Nellan didn't seem affected at all, confidently leading them through the snow, not even wearing his gloves. Damn Fereldens and their resistance to the cold. “As far as I've been told, it's primarily about eating lots of pancakes and pastries made of or with cheese. And playing various games.”

“How curious,” Zev muttered, pulling his coat collar higher to hide from the cold a bit more. “And do you, perhaps, also know the meaning of the festival? And whether it would be considered an offence should we decide to spend it indoors with a fire going instead?”

“From what they've told me, it's about seeing the winter off and welcoming spring.” Nellan stopped and turned to Zev, his gaze almost annoyingly tender as he stepped to the assassin.

“May I point out that winter by no means seems gone yet?” He grumbled, freezing in place when the mage cupped his cheek gently. His hands were warm, though, and Zev leaned into the touch, cherishing the affection as much as the unexpected warmth. Nellan chuckled.

“That's why they need the festival. To show winter out like a guest overstaying their welcome.” He sighed. “I'm very curious about the festival, since it's not like any I've seen before. There are some games the locals like, apparently, and I want to see what they are. But I don't want to drag you along if you'd rather stay in the inn.”

Zev felt his heart soften. He covered Nellan's hand with his own, clad in a glove from the pair that his lover had given him within days of them meeting for the first time. Turning his face just enough to nuzzle into the mage's hand, he left a chaste kiss on his palm.

“I am sorry for complaining this much. It does sound interesting, amore, and I'd love to experience it with you. I am merely not accustomed to the cold, which is proving somewhat complicated. But  it is of no concern.”

“Perhaps, I can try and warm you up?” Nellan's playful expression was intriguing.

“What do you have in mind, my Warden?”

“Oh, just this,” with that, he was pulled into an open-mouthed kiss that could likely warm him up from the dead. He could swear that Nellan's tongue was hotter than usual, and a wave of heat went through his entire body as the kiss went on. He no longer felt cold; his fingers prickled with a far more familiar feeling of sweltering wind washing over him, reminiscent of his homeland. Only then did he realise that the warmth was accompanied by an underlying softness, an almost honeyed sweetness, that made its way all throughout his body. He inhaled sharply at the realisation of what was happening, kissing his beloved with more fervour, gripping the hand on his cheek.

When he pulled away, he didn't move far, giving Nellan the sweetest grin he was capable of.

“So this is one of the benefits of being engaged to a fire mage?” His partner laughed at that.

“One of them, yes. Feel better?”

“Certainly,” Zev leaned closer to kiss Nellan's cheek. “I've still not gotten used to how lovely your magic feels.”

He could swear there was a hint of a pleased blush colouring Nellan's face. Elated, Zev took the mage's hand off his face and left a kiss on his knuckles.

“So,” he spoke again, delighting to no end in his beloved's quiet giggle at the praise and the kiss, “shall we go and see what this festival is all about? Now that my nose is not in danger of freezing off, I am rather interested in finding out what games the locals have.”

“Thank you,” the mage smiled sweetly as he leaned in for a quick peck on the lips.

Nellan intertwined their fingers, lowering their hands, and stepped backwards with a grin, tugging Zev to follow. Not that the assassin had any other idea, happily following his beloved even when the man turned around and walked faster. That just made Zev pick up his pace to walk next to the mage.

The festival turned out to have more food than the village could reasonably eat. Zev particularly liked little griddle cakes said to be made with farmer's cheese. Nellan was a fan of sweet pancakes, stuffed with a filling of berries cooked down with some honey. The games turned out to primarily be for those looking for a partner, which they found out after the one of the games started without them even being invited. Perhaps there was something about feeding each other sweet treats, kissing regularly, and Nellan wearing an earring that looked like a regular ring on a chain, that gave them away as an engaged couple, although Zevran couldn't imagine how it would.

There was one game they were invited to participate in, though. After the first half a dozen games, where quite a few people paired up, thin firm breadsticks were handed out to couples, and they were supposed to bite on the breadstick from either side at the same time, not letting it fall or break. As someone explained, if a part of the breadstick fell, that meant the couple would have an “unhappy union,” and if it broke, the couple was destined to have many disagreements. While if their lips met over the breadstick, they could kiss on the spot, as that was supposed to mean that their union would be a happy and harmonious one.

Looking at Nellan's excited face as he listened to the rules, Zev knew they wouldn't sit that one out. But as long as it made his beloved happy, he was happy to participate.

Their eyes met as the breadstick was placed between them and they both bit on their respective ends. Nellan looked focused and determined, perhaps taking the game a little too seriously. Zev exhaled in amusement, both of them waiting for a signal.

Someone yelled, “Go!” Diligently, Zev focused on the game, barely noticing how both Nellan and he got to the middle of the breadstick. And then there were lips on his own, and he closed his eyes, kissing Nellan softly, enjoying the moment and not deepening the kiss.

There were cheers of the crowd, but they seemed far away, especially as Nellan's arm made it around Zev's waist, his other hand setting under the hood on the back of the assassin's neck. He, in turn, wrapped his arms around his beloved's shoulders, not minding the crowd growing louder.

Too soon for Zev's liking, Nellan pulled away, giving him a soft smile. He looked Zev deep in the eyes for a few moments, before clearing his throat and speaking.

“Thank you for coming to the festival with me. I never got to go to anything like this, growing up in the Circle and all, and this... this was special.”

Zev smiled at him gently.

“I am happy to go to as many festivals with you as you wish, amore mio.” He paused, looking at Nellan, before his smile grew into a smirk. “Especially if they have games like this one. Or, perhaps, dirty ones.”

Nellan laughed, leaning in for another brief kiss.

“I don't know about the festivals, but we can play a few of our own in our room. I've seen what I wanted of the festival, so...” The mage bit his lower lip, looking at Zev meaningfully.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let us head back now, amore, please.” He knew from Nellan's laugh that he would not be refused.

“Let's go then.”

Zev grinned to himself as they said their goodbyes to the locals, heading through the snow towards the inn they had a room in. Even with the atrociously cold weather, it had been a nice day, all things considered.

[hime-memes]

                     * Kurtis Conner Sentence Starters *

Been on a Kurtis Connor youtube video kick lately and since his commentary can be pretty funny, I figured I’d make some sentence starters from his dialogue. ( This is just a couple videos worth, but I may make other parts later. ) 

As always: These have been modified for cohesive and sensical use. Feel free to change anything within these that you see fit to make it work for your muse & the receiver’s muse !

Recommended For: Any muses/plots/timelines.

Trigger Warnings For: Swearing & Innuendo

“ I’ll be in Heaven ... no, I’ll be in Hell while some fuckin’ demon sets me on fire, and I’ll be like ‘ See this shit ? Cringe ‘. “ “ ... It was like the cringe grand central station ... “ “ Then the country boys come up and they’re like ‘ Yeehaw, fuckers ! ’ “ “ Actors are usually, like, really cool people and never a chore to be around; just think of any theater kid you ever met ... Super cool and not annoying, right ? “ “ Well, I guess regular movies are just really long POV videos. “ “ First off, eye contact -- went on just WAY too long, oh my god. “ “ I guess I am a country boy at heart, damn. “ “ If someone I don’t know makes eye contact with me for longer than, like, five seconds; I’m kinda nauseous. I don’t like it at all ! “ “ That almost put me in a fuckin’ coma, dude. “  “ Eye ... needa ... Contact ... my doctor ! “  “ Dude, I just filmed a fuckin’ banger bro, it’s just a slapper of a tikkytok ! -- Dude, I need a fuckin’ sick caption for it dude ! “ “ Oh great, it’s just you staring at the camera and smirking ... again. “ “ I said -- I compensate you handsomely: I’m handsome and that is your compensation ! “ “ It says: #POV - You are the ant looking for food in the bathroom and you see this human. Then you catch feelings. “ “ When I saw that I was like: ‘ Okay -- this guy wants to fuck ants ‘ ... “ “ Yo, I gotta see them ant tiddies up close ... Yeah, what that thorax do though, huh ? Hey Ma, I’ve seen a bugs life ... now it’s time for a bug’s sex life ! “ “ That gives me the right to say, [ name ], likes to make sweet passionate love ... to insects ! “ “ It’s just weird to me -- emotionally lip syncing a song ? That’s ... that’s not acting ! “ “ Is that a puka shell necklace bro ?! For some reason, that would make this video better and that’s rare. If a puka shell necklace increases the quality of a video ? Uh oh ... “ “ Please tell me I’m hot. Please tell me I’m hot. Please tell me I’m fuckin’ hot ! “  “ Am I jealous ? ... Yes. Yes, I am. “  “ Ants are kinda thicc though, I’ll give ‘em that. Ants are thicc. “ “ Look at me now ... buying a handsome tiktoker’s onlyfans ... FOR RESEARCH ! “  “ The idea of an indoor boyfriend, wow, that is really funny ! “ “ That would be a miserable life if you were the indoor boyfriend. You’d just stay inside all the time. “ “ I’m going to meet my outdoor boyfriend, I’ll be back in a few hours. “  “ I don’t want to be an indoor boyfriend anymore, what can I say ? “  “ I’m losing my indoor mind, outdoor boyfriend, why can’t I ? “ “ I needed to complete the trilogy ... the tri-lie-gy. “ “ We’re going to look at lies people told on the internet for attention. “ “ No one year old baby is going to wake you up crying ‘ I wanna go to work for you ! ‘. No, they’re gonna poke you and be like: ‘ Me hungy and bored, give me hotdog and also my iPad ! Now, bitch ‘ ! “ “ The kid obviously didn’t want the work uniform on. “  “ We’ve all been to an aquarium where the tanks were just open and you could toss your food in there. It’s not like there’s huge fucking glass walls in there between and the rare fish species or anything. “  “ Long story short, a fish ... spit water ... into my mouth. It was, like, super hot ! “

[rebrandedbard]

number 42 for the drabble prompts please? :)

42. “I swear it was an accident.”

tw: death (not of main characters), kinda gross corpse descriptions

WC: 2456

Poet’s Sight

Jaskier keeps falling in with dangerous creatures and Geralt is starting to think he’s cursed. That is, until Geralt takes a contract for a noonwraith and Jaskier gets ahead of him. It is then Geralt remembers something important about the nature of rare poets.

-

That made the third time. Three monsters in as many months, and Geralt was starting to worry. Somehow, Jaskier had a habit of stumbling upon the creatures before him, even when he was doing his best to stay away from the fight. Though his medallion offered no hints, Geralt felt sure Jaskier had been cursed somehow. There was no other explanation for it. For two of the hunts, Geralt had not yet arrived in town, would not have been able to defend Jaskier if he got himself into any kind of trouble, and Jaskier had been entirely unaware of the contracts. But this had been the final straw. As things were, Jaskier ought not to be living.

“I swear, it was an accident,” Jaskier said. “The light was low and it seemed like any ordinary dog. I swear, it was an ordinary dog. It had fur and everything—nothing at all as you described.”

Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s shoulders, the corpse of the beast just yards away from where they stood. “It was a barghest. Do you have any idea how much danger you were in! It would have eaten you alive if I let it, torn you from the bowels out!”

“But it…”

“They don’t have a quality of mercy.”

Jaskier stared at the corpse. He wore a pinched expression, not quite comprehending the vision before him. The fleshy, mutated monster looked so much larger, so much more twisted than it had moments before. Its odd tongue, prickled and forked, flopped out from its foaming maw. That same tongue had felt the same as any dog’s before as it licked Jaskier’s face. It had been smooth and slimy and affectionate. And it had not had such large teeth.

He’d gone out to fetch more wood for the fire—really, he’d gone out to relieve himself in private—and he’d happened upon a dog among the bushes. It had looked perfectly sweet in the moonlight: a shaggy brown and white thing with a fluffy, wagging tail. It had followed after him on his way back to camp. Jaskier had always been fond of dogs, so he’d stopped awhile to pet it. Really, it had been friendly. It curled up at his feet and allowed him to scratch it behind the ears. Everything had been just fine, and he’d just picked up a large stick to initiate a quick game of fetch when Geralt came crashing out of the trees, sword raised.

“It was an ordinary dog,” Jaskier whispered. He still had the stick in his hand.

Geralt looked Jaskier in the eye. His nostrils flared ever-so slightly, as if scenting for a lie. The lines in his face smoothed and he sighed, prying the stick from Jaskier’s grasp. “I thought you’d seen it. The way you raised the stick …” He looked at it. It would have snapped in an instant in a true fight. He tossed it near the barghest’s corpse and turned Jaskier back towards camp.

“… You felt fur?” he asked.

Jaskier nodded. “Soft as anything.”

“I don’t understand it. To you, it was as if it were nothing more than a dog.”

“Perhaps I’m seeing things wrong. Was it …  as it tasting me before the feast? When I pet it, was it simply waiting to size me up? Oh, Geralt, what if I’ve had my mind taken over by a witch? Am I seeing visions? Are you real?”

He reached up to grope at Geralt’s cheeks, pulling them and prodding at his armour, his swords, and his chest. Geralt pulled his hands away carefully and shook his head.

“There’s not a trace of magic around you as far as I can tell,” he grunted.

“Then we’ll have to find someone who can tell these things. I’m scared, Geralt. I already lack the ability to defend myself in other ways; if I don’t know when to run, I’ll surely wind up dead before the year is out, if not sooner!”

Probably sooner, Geralt thought. “We’ll consult a mage. There are curses strong enough to evade detection from the medallion. They’re rare, but not unheard of. A mage would be able to tell us more: what kind of curse it is and how to lift it.”

As they stepped into the safety of the firelight, Roach raised her head, flicking her ears towards Jaskier. He wobbled over to her and wrapped his arms around her neck. She sniffed him, then turned her ear to Geralt for answers.

Geralt was looking at Jaskier carefully. It would be too dangerous to stay in the woods another night. Where there was one barghest, there were bound to be others. He would keep watch until first light, then they’d set out for the next town.

“Jaskier,” Geralt called.

Jaskier uncurled from Roach’s neck.

“I want you to stay in town for my next contract,” he said. “You’ll under a curfew until this gets resolved: indoors between dusk and dawn. I want you on the inn grounds whenever I’m not present. Are we understood?”

Jaskier balked at being confined indoors. “Can’t I come along with you?” he asked.

“No. If this is a curse, you might be a danger to me on contracts. To me and yourself.” It would be a greater liability than merely getting underfoot. This thing seemed to attract danger, or else to pull Jaskier towards danger. Either way, he was staying put somewhere safe.

“But Geralt—”

“I won’t hear any argument,” Geralt snapped. He narrowed his eyes, pinning Jaskier with a glare. “Do you remember what happened two weeks ago? You heard a woman cry in the middle of the night. And what did you do?”

Jaskier sighed and flopped down on his bedroll. “She didn’t wail like a banshee. And I’ve told you a hundred times over: she looked human! I held her hand! You can’t hold the hand of a ghost,” he protested. “And what’s more, she spoke. It wasn’t nonsense. How was I to know what she was if I can’t trust my own eyes and ears?”

He lay down in a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. Geralt could feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves. “What I find odd is that none of them so far have hurt me,” he mumbled.

“That’s because I came in time to save your satin-covered ass,” Geralt replied.

“I was with the banshee for hours, Geralt. You didn’t arrive in town until the middle of the night. Why would she wait to kill me when she had me already?”

Geralt thought about it. A banshee was more often an omen than an outright threat, though still dangerous. He’d stayed close to Jaskier for the next three days to see what dreaded fortune the omen foretold, but he’d not come to any harm in that time. Then again, he’d never heard of a banshee speaking before. It was possible Jaskier had not been with her for hours as he claimed, for if his senses were betraying him, how could he know the passing of the time? His accounts were questionable until this was resolved.

When they arrived in town the next morning, it was just before noon. There was no inn, but they were given permission to stay in one of the farmer’s barns. Geralt went to the alderman for a contract and left Jaskier safely behind, composing in among the hay. It was a noonwraith, Geralt discovered, that had been withering the fields. He oiled his sword and returned to the edge of town to wait for it to appear.

On the way, he stopped by the barn to update Jaskier. He was surprised to hear no music within. When he looked, he did not see Jaskier dozing among the hay. He was not where he’d left him at Roach’s side. Listening closely, he heard no heartbeat within. Jaskier was gone.

Geralt cursed and tore himself from the barn. “Jaskier!” he called. But Jaskier was not about. Geralt followed the trail of his scent toward the fields, his feet pounding on the dry earth. He’d made Jaskier promise not to leave the barn. He’d damn well better be enchanted to wander off so mindlessly on his own.

“Miss? Little miss, would you please slow down! I’m not supposed to be out here!”

Geralt turned his head toward the sound of Jaskier’s pleas. There, down the hill, he saw a flash of blue among the yellow stalks. Jaskier was running along the edge of the field, one arm out as if chasing something. He was shouting in his worried voice. As Geralt watched, Jaskier paced in front of the boundary, hesitating before an opening in among the tall crops.

“Little girl?” Jaskier called. “This isn’t a game! You bring me back my ring this instant!” Then, he called out again, diving into the fray.

But Geralt had seen no girl.

Geralt charged down the hill and entered the fields full-tilt. He followed the trail, catching up from behind, listening as he did. His sword was at the ready. The sun was already approaching its apex, and soon the wraith would be out. If it wasn’t out already.

“Troublesome girl!” Jaskier gruffed. “First she steals my ring, then she drops it in the dirt like a seed among the ro—”

There came a pause, and Geralt heard a stalk break somewhere ahead by Jaskier. His voice came again from the same place. “Well, that’s an odd find. Popped up like a lucky charm. Did the thing grow through you?”

The wind stirred, carrying Jaskier’s words clearly, though he was still too far to reach. Geralt’s blood ran cold. His medallion was trembling against his chest, warning of the wraith’s arrival.

“Oh? Is it yours, young lady?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt felt the panic wash over him. A ring in a field. A token from the wraith. The idiot ought not to have touched it! She’d make him the target of her wrath, dry up his soul into a husk, and force him to waste himself away like the withered stalks around them with only—

“A dance?” Jaskier asked. He laughed, voice ringing clear above the wind. “Oh, very well, but only a very short one; I’ve still got to find that little girl, give her a lecture about respecting personal property.”

Geralt was almost upon them. He could see the clearing in the field ahead, the strong sunlight filtering through. Jaskier’s voice was clearer, and the wind had a strange quality to it. It seemed to lull in time to Jaskier’s speech.

“Sister? Ah, then I’d best go easy on her,” Jaskier said. He was moving away quickly now. The wind blew, and suddenly Jaskier was laughing, bright and clear. “Buried your mother’s ring? What a scamp! And you’ve been out here every afternoon liking for it since—and no wonder! It’s a lovely piece. May I?”

Geralt broke through the field in time to see Jaskier dancing with the wraith. She was a hollowed thing, burned by the sun, her hair bleached white. They turned once, then Jaskier lowered himself on one knee and, taking the wraith’s hand, slipped the ring onto her finger.

“There!” Jaskier said. “You know? Our rings almost make a pair.”

The wind blew and Jaskier appeared to be listening. He laughed, patting the wraith’s hands, and the wind stopped blowing. “Oh no, I’m afraid I’m spoken for. It would make a lovely engagement ring, but not to me. Even so, I don’t suppose a kiss would be amiss.” And so he leaned forward and kissed the wraith’s cheek, as if she were not a lifeless husk.

Geralt was stunned. It was … it was as if the wraith were speaking to Jaskier. He watched the two of them start up the dance again. He’d witnessed the dancing of noonwraiths before, and their victims screamed in horror until their final breath. The wraith made them dance in a mad frenzy until they fell to the ground, dead from exhaustion and terror. This dance was a frolic, full of laughter. It was unhurried as Jaskier allowed himself to be twirled round and round. When the dance came to an end, it had not been any more than the length of a song. Jaskier tilted his head, listening while the wind whistled in the field.

“So soon?” he asked. “Well, I thank you for the lovely dance. You be sure to tell your sister to mind her manners for me, won’t you? I’ve got to head back myself before I give my witcher a fright. I—oh, there she is now!”

Geralt turned to look where Jaskier was waving, but he saw nothing at all.

“You mind your sister,” Jaskier said, wagging a finger at the empty air. “You’re much too old to be getting up to these tricks.”

And at once, Geralt understood. Jaskier was a poet. There were poets in this world who were made of a different cut—who could see beyond the limits of the physical world. The banshee, the barghest, the wraith … and Geralt was sure even now that Jaskier was shaking his finger in the face of a ghost. They were all of the other realm.

He had sight.

Jaskier waved as the wraith began to fade through the field, disappearing. “Take care!” he called. “And be careful on your way. There’s a contract in town, so there’s trouble about somewhere. Have no fear, we’ll be sure to make everything safe, my witcher and I.”

At that, Geralt snorted, and Jaskier turned his head.

Jaskier turned pale at once, clutching his hands to his chest. “Ger—I can explain, Geralt!” he stammered. “I swear, I would have stayed in the barn, but this little girl came in and she stole my ring right off my finger! It’s my father’s ring, and I couldn’t just let … her …” Jaskier blinked, staring at Geralt, perplexed. “Are you laughing?”

Indeed Geralt was. All the stress from the last three months bubbled up and escaped as laughter, shaking his shoulders.

Jaskier chuckled along nervously. “I would have thought you’d be furious with me for running out. Erm … did you finish your contract then?”

Geralt clapped an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’d say you finished it for me today,” he corrected. “And I’ve just figured out the answer to your little curse.”

Jaskier perked up slightly, realizing he wasn’t in trouble just yet. “Is that so? Will you tell me then?”

“If you promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Geralt smiled and rubbed the ash from Jaskier’s lips with his glove. “Never,” he said, “kiss another noonwraith again.”

“Kiss a what?” Jaskier squawked.

[the-a-word-2214]

Wise Beyond Her Years

summary: Pierre realizes he’s in love with his childhood best friend

pairing: Pierre Bezukhov x reader

word count: 1,489

warnings: fluff, soft Pierre moments

My dearest (Y/N),

Helene has become unbearable. She admitted to not wanting children although I persuaded her with having any amount of money she could ever want. I would like children one day, maybe Helene isn’t meant to be in my life after all. Thank you for listening.

Pierre Bezukhov

—————————————

As you carefully read Pierre’s letter, you cannot help but feel his unhappiness. He didn’t even originally want to marry Helene, her father thrust marriage upon them.

You’d known the man since you were children, you always felt a growing sense of love when you saw him but it was much more than a friendly love, it was a romantic one.

Once Pierre had come into the sum of his father’s inheritance, women were falling over themselves to get to him. It’s as if the socially awkward man they once saw had been erased from their minds.

He was still your Pierre though, the man that you loved and had since childhood. Your heart leaped anytime you saw him, but that was long ago. After getting thrown out of St. Petersburg, you hadn’t seen him in many months.

Once you received his letter, you immediately wrote back.

—————————————

Pierre,

I’m sorry to hear about your misfortune with Helene. Just know that there is a silver lining to your problems, my dear. You must come visit me, I get lonely most days without you here. The ice has frozen solid over the lake, it is now perfect for ice skating.

(Y/N) (L/N)

—————————————

The wind whipped through your hair as you skated across the frozen lake. Your warm coat kept out the cold. You skidded to a halt as you saw a figure in a fluffy ushanka marching towards you. It was Pierre, your Pierre.

He rushed towards you, nearly falling on his face. You met him in the middle, squeezing him tightly in a hug.

“Pyotr! So good to see you.” You exclaim, your mouth buried in the fur of his coat.

“Dearest (Y/N), it has been too long.” He mumbles into your hair as you pull away to look at him, your hands on his forearms.

“Come, let me show you how to skate.” You carefully pull him onto the ice with you as you skate backward, your eyes remaining on him. His gaze is wary as he slowly begins moving on the frozen water.

“This is much more fun than I ever anticipated.” He laughs softly as he looks down at his feet.

*******

Once you both return to the warmth of indoors, you take off your coat. You run your hands down the length of the smooth fabric of your dress. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you sit down next to the fire, the only sound being the popping of the fire.

“How have you been, (Y/N)?” Pierre startles you with his voice as he sits down in a chair next to you.

“Oh my! You gave me a fright.” You laugh softly as you put a hand to your chest.

“I’ve been lonely, Sonya and Natasha keep fine company but I miss our talks. I miss the way you used to make me laugh.” Your eyes flit to him, taking in his appearance. His hair a little longer than what you remember although the same glasses adorn his face.

“I see. I’ve missed you too, dearly. Helene only thinks of me as an oaf and a brute. She’s decided that she won’t mother any children either. The words she used were ‘you know I’m not the motherly type.’” He sighs, running a hand over his face.

“You deserve someone who will treat you better, Pierre. A kind woman who will happily bear your children.” You gently take his hand, he looks down at it. His eyes turn to you as he moves your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly.

Your breath catches in your throat as you turn to look away, your cheeks dusted with a faint blush.

“Pierre, you always flatter me.” You whisper as a smile graces your lips.

“You know that I’ve always found you to be wise beyond your years. You’re extraordinary! I’m four years your senior and yet you could outsmart me in almost any situation.” He’s doting on you now, making wild gestures with his hands. It always humored you when he became over dramatic.

“Oh, stop it Pierre. You’re too kind.” You laugh softly as he stands up, pulling you with him by your hands.

“It beguiles me that you can’t see your worth. You deserve a good man, (Y/N).”

*******

Pierre begins writing to you once more after he sees you. He would tell you about how many times Helene would be out and about and how each time he was more and more tempted into divorcing her.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was the truth of him finding out that Fedya Dolokhov, his own friend, was having an affair with Helene. Her restless behavior when he was around made sense now.

Pierre had challenged Dolokhov to a duel, in which he won. It was a miracle that he remained unscathed through it all. He wrote to you about his good fortune and each day after that. He began writing so often that you couldn’t keep up.

—————————————

My dearest (Y/N),

There is a ball being held soon. I would hope that you would be in attendance. This will be one of the first times that I make an appearance in public after separating from Helene. Please consider my proposal.

Pierre Bezukhov

—————————————

The thought of seeing Pierre again enticed you enough to bare the festivities of aristocratic life. With a heavy sigh, you prepared for the ball that’s taking place in the evening.

*******

The gold that lined the walls of the palace was illuminated as the darkness from outside seeped in. Everyone looked regal in their white clothes, especially the girls who lined up to meet their suitors.

You stood by your lonesome with your parents at your side as you surveyed the crowd. Andrei was somewhere in the crowd along with Pierre. You followed their gaze to see Natasha playfully looking away from their watchful eyes.

You felt wrong for coming, you felt like a fool. Of course Pierre could never love you when he was always so close with Natasha. Tears filled your eyes as you rushed off to another part of the palace, leaving your parents and the emotions of the ballroom behind.

You cried softly as you sunk to the floor, the only other bodies in the room being that of the footmen. The sound of boots against the tile filled your ears as you remained in your previous position.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? What is the matter?” Pierre squatted down to your level as he beckoned you to look at him.

“I saw the way you looked at her, you love her don’t you?” You sniffled as you whipped your head up to look at him.

He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, at a loss for words.

“...Never mind.” He stands up again as he begins to pace the small space.

“Never mind what? What is it, Pierre?” You demand as you approach him.

“I don’t love her, I love you.” He blurts out, his eyes a mix of fear and sadness.

You choose your words before vocalizing them.

“I love you too, Pierre. Ever since we were little.” You whisper the last part, staring at your shoes. He pulls you closer to him, his hands on either side of your face. He leans down and captures your lips in his own. The kiss is tender and soft as your lips move together as one.

Once you finally part, you feel as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Your feelings no longer harbored, now out in the open.

“I’m delighted to hear that you feel the same way. Now, might you allow me the honor of dancing with you? If you’ll have me, that is.” He holds out his hand to you. You take it without a second thought, his deft, gloved fingers warm in your own.

He leads you out to the ballroom, this time your view of it is different. The faces seem a little more welcoming and you now notice just how handsome Pierre looks in his pale grey jacket. His eyes never leave yours as he holds you close. A slow melody fills the air as you hold him close.

Your hand in his, the other on his shoulder. You feel peace for the first time in years as you gaze at the man who loved you in return. That’s all you ever wanted in the end, is to be loved and love in return.

This was just the beginning of your new life with Pierre. Just the start of something wonderful.

[crackinwise]

Mondo having a thing about coating Taka with hickeys and Taka having a thing about very much enjoying the process is a good headcanon I've seen used several times, in both fic and art.

I see it causing an issue for them at least once.

Kiyotaka has the syllabus and upcoming events memorized before he and Mondo have a "session" so he won't be caught broadcasting his love life unwelcomed. Besides, he always fears he'll be accused of being hedonistic and immoral just for using some free time to feel wanted by the man he loves.

Meanwhile, Mondo knows to keep it below the uniform collar, but that's a lot of fair game there. After one night where they get carried away, Taka's torso from the base of the neck down looks like a leopard. Taka looks like he lost a fight with an octopus. But it's fine because a)Taka wanted it, and b)he can still look presentable in public with them covered.

But, the next day at gym, the class is told the schedule had to be rearranged and everyone is to head up to the pool. Taka instantly panics.

As everyone starts walking, he grabs Mondo's arm and pulls him to the back of the group.

"Mondo," he hisses, "I can't go to the pool!"

"Why?"

Taka fully despairs for a brief second. "If I take off my uniform, everyone will see the marks you've made!"

The caveman part of Mondo's brain makes his chest want to swell with a mixture of pride and possession, but it plummets down to become a lead ball in his stomach the instant he notices the unshed tears and fear in Taka's large eyes.

"It's okay. S'okay, I'll figure somethin out. Let's just get goin," Mondo promises him.

He can't let Taka feel humiliated. He mostly trusts his classmates by now--Taka would never have another middle school experience--but this wasn't a couple hickeys to get teased over and laugh off. Their peers' first reaction might be to get Taka a bodyguard and Mondo a muzzle. The teacher might investigate; Taka's dad might be called. Mondo shakes away the mental image of a mortified Taka and tries to actually problem solve.

He couldn't picture Taka sitting the period out on the bleachers and risk being a bad class leader. Taka could lie about feeling sick or needing somewhere else to be to work on his Talent, but he wouldn't. Taka wouldn't forgive him for pulling the fire alarm either. He didn't know of any clubs Taka could help at this hour. Would anything at the pool hide him when they got there?

Mondo's head snaps up with an idea and he walks faster to catch up with the classmate who made swimming pools her domain. "Asahina!"

Hina stops hopping around excitedly next to Sakura and turns to address him. "Mondo? What's up?"

He starts to whisper while also glaring at any classmates daring to curiously rubberneck. "I need a favor. Do ya have one of them, like, swim shirts? Y'know, surfers and shit wear 'em?"

"A rash guard?"

"Sure."

Hina frowns, apologetic. "No, I never thought to bring one here since the pool is indoors." She gives him a once-over. "And I'm not sure we'd be the same size."

"It's not...for me." Mondo rubs the back of his neck anxiously. He makes sure to keep his voice low. "It's for Taka."

"Since when does Ishimaru prefer a rash guard while swimming?" Kyoko asks, suddenly appearing on Mondo's other side, startling him.

"Holy fuck! Who who asked you?!" he yelps.

"You're not as quiet as you think you are," she helpfully warns them. "Here, let's walk to the side a bit."

The three step to the outside of the pack of students to continue talking a bit more covertly.

"Now, Oowada, what's this about?" Kyoko asks, eyes sharp.

Yeah!" Hina loudly whispers back. "Is Taka all right? Him asking for cover is concerning, ya know!"

Mondo's defensive annoyance threatens to flare up. "He's fine, but he can't go in the pool today. I can't tell ya why, so don't ask."

Maybe if another teacher needed help, but Mondo didn't know of any and unless one walked down the hall, he couldn't beg them. Or the headmaster!

"Oi!" Mondo's outburst causes Hina to jump. He lowers his voice once again, "Kirigiri! I need ya to ask yer dad if he has anythin he can call for Taka to work on. Like, now, for the whole period."

Kyoko's cool eyes narrow at him. He knows she's still trying to suss out his motives.

"If it were just for you, I'd demand more of an explanation, but this is for Ishimaru, right?" Even as she asks, she has her phone out, texting the headmaster. Mondo catches a glimpse of her text starting with "URGENT" and feels a wave of appreciation.

Finished, she looks from her phone back to Taka, still uncharacteristically silent and walking yards behind everyone else. She notes how he's hugging himself and darting his unfocused eyes around.

"Hmm." Her hand is up to her chin in thought. "Well, all we can do is wait for my father to answer me or make an announcement on his own. I could always just lie and say my father requested him."

"Y'know damn well he'd hate that and give us both detention when he found out," Mondo gripes. He understands why Taka refuses a little dishonest help, but it's still frustrating as hell sometimes.

"Yes," she agrees, her voice was as level and confident as always, "but that depends on how much he'd rather be tricked than show off your love bites."

"Right? Damn."

Hina, still close by and listening, covered her mouth to muffle a giggle.

Then Mondo's steps faltered. "HEY!"

His shout echoed around the hall, causing a few students to eyeball them. Makoto was clutching his chest, about ready to imitate a fainting goat.

Kyoko didn't so much as blink though. "It's as if you forget who I am. But don't worry, I'll take all the blame for lying to Ishimaru if it comes to that."

"Thanks," Mondo sighs out. "If you two didn't help, I was gonna pay Hiro to predict a pool disaster big enough to stall."

That causes Hina and Kyoko to realize the severity of the situation might be more than simple awkwardness.

"You know Hiro would try to charge you, like, hundreds of dollars for that," Hina says, worried. "Maybe thousands. Is Taka really that embarrassed by a hickey?"

Mondo swallows thickly but doesn't answer. He feels incredibly guilty. He feels like a danger to Taka's reputation for a new reason than the usual ones that sometimes haunt him. He knows hormones and his lack of self-control are a bad mix, but add in Taka enthusiastically praising his mouth, and he has zero hope of restraint.

They arrive at the changing rooms for everyone to switch into their swimsuits before going to the pool. The other students file inside while Mondo, Hina, Kyoko, and the trailing Taka hang back.

When Taka stops in front of them, his wide eyes finally focus on Mondo. He glances at the girls then says, hopefully, "Any, um, ideas?"

Mondo worries Taka is going to have a panic attack with the way he's breathing and clutching his blazer closed. As if the marks were magically visible through his uniform shirt too.

Kyoko brings her phone screen up to her face to check for a reply, then shakes her head at Mondo. Hina wrings her hands.

Deciding he's just going to kidnap Taka for the rest of the day and risk his boyfriend never speaking to him again, Mondo starts to grab Taka's arm.

The P.A. system squeaks on. "ISHIMARU, YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED IN THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE, PLEASE!"

All four friends sag with relief. Hina does a little cheer, gives them a thumbs up and skips into the girl's changing room. Kyoko nods at Mondo's thankful expression and follows her inside.

Taka runs his fingers thru his hair, laughs bubbling out of him. He has no idea what had happened to save him, but he wasn't going to question it just now. He squeezes Mondo's wrist once with his left hand and smiles to convey he was never upset with his partner about the situation. Then he proceeds to speed-walk to the office.

Mondo's frayed nerves want him to break the rules and embrace Taka, but his impulsive actions have caused enough problems today. He turns to go get changed for the pool, his caveman pride starting to return after helping to protect his Kiyotaka.

Following this, Taka didn't let them have another "session" for a month, and when he did he made contingency plans to be nowhere near the pool for a full week.

[natromanxoff]

22 - Cars & Queenie Days

Hi there Queenie people.

What a strange little weekend this one turned out to be. Let me start by saying that most of my stories seem to have something to do with alcohol, but we were all a hell of a lot younger then, and I for one cannot do that anymore, well not all the time. Although a few days ago an old friend made a guest appearance, the Kurgen was let loose on the streets of Bondi which seemed to start a string of Queen type events. It all started about midday on Saturday when a friend of mine phoned and suggested lunch, what a fantastic idea as it was a lovely hot sunny day, so we met in a nice place with a garden and ordered the first bottle of wine, and it was the Linda Lovelace of vino, it went down very quickly and easily. During the course of the afternoon I phoned my mate Steve and said he should join us, which he did at about 8pm, and we finally moved indoors to have dinner, after sitting in the sun and guzzling wine for the last six hours, and needless to say I'm pissed so we ordered some more food and what turned out to be the last bottle of plonk for the evening.

Half way through dinner Rebecca decided she was to out of it to continue, and wisely went home, leaving the Kurgen and his mate, who has decided he's gonna catch up with me, what a good friend eh, but him getting drunk means me becoming a complete gibbering idiot. After dining we moved next door to the bar where the whisky was flowing very rapidly and the idiot telling one barmaid she looked like a cheap hooker, while swearing his undying love to another. Oh, get me another drink Steve, I think I need one. It finally gets to 1am and time to head home, it's been a long day, and while trying to negotiate the 10min walk I was complaining that my right leg wouldn't work, usual drunken crap.

What has this got to do with Queen I hear you ask, well, apart from the fact that a million years ago I worked for them for a while, not very much. Steve and myself eventually got back to my place and I got phoneitis and I had the need to speak with everyone from my dodgey past, so, phone book out and lets go. Pride of place went to Mr Deacon who was lucky to be speaking on the phone so the Kurgen, after two tries, couldn't get through. Time up for you pal, next. Broughie. He always calls me when he's legless, now it's his turn to try and decipher what I'm on about. When I got through to Trip I can remember saying, "Where the f*** are you?" And do you know what, I have no idea what the answer was, though he did say they cancelled a couple of shows, and everyone was having a great time. This is fun, lets spend some more money. The next call started with, "Mr Taylor, it's Mr Taylor here." Sorry Rog, but you did pick up the phone. I did tell him I'd listened to his new stuff on his website and it's the best stuff he'd done in years, and I have an awful feeling I said that I didn't like 'Happiness,' but he did say that he reads my memoirs, so if you get to see this Mr T. I'll try and be a bit more sober next time I call.

Jacky followed, phone was busy (No it wasn't, we were out, you left a message!!) , gotta move on, I'm on a roll now. A new game, lets try and track down my ex in LA, no luck, thank god, and with that my new accountant Steve took the phone away from me, thanks dear boy. He clears off around 3 and I hit the sack and descend into a coma. Ring ring.....ring ring. Its 9am, who the f*** is phoning in the middle of the night, so, with head pounding I track the phone down and had to raise a bit of a giggle, it's Broughie and now he's pissed and he told me that in nearly twenty years of knowing me, that is the worst he's ever heard me try and talk, to which I reply that this is the worst I've ever felt.

Spandau's Tony Hadley was the next person I speak to, what a diamond geezer, always nice to chat with him. Sunday was a non-existent day with a phone that had no sympathy for me and kept ringing, amazingly it's still in one piece. A wet Monday and I'm still feeling a bit iffy, but come afternoon I receive a package in the post, I like little surprises, so when I walk in and turn the radio on Bo Rap is playing, and when I open my pressie it's from the ever gorgeous Jacky who has very kindly sent me RT's Electric Fire. You know what I mean, his new CD not the electric fire out of his bedroom. I'm glad I told him it was great, cause it is, in my humble opinion, possibly the best thing he's done. That was a hell of a lot of words just to say " go and buy Electric fire and put it in the charts, you won't be disappointed".

I was chatting with Greg Fryer, the fireplace restorer, and we're both looking forward to the Australian convention in a few weeks, although I might be drinking lemonade as I made the idiot promise that "I'm never drinking again". Some time ago somebody asked me a question which went something like, "When you were in the studio with just Roger or the Cross, was it a bit of an anti climax after working with Queen as they were such brilliant musicians." I don't know if I'm missing something here, but as Roger was a solo artist, a member of the Cross and also in Queen, surely that must make him brilliant. Well, whatever your name was, no it wasn't boring it was mostly fun. When he was producing other acts I must admit that I did a lot of sitting around doing bugger all, and I every act were ok as people, though once Jimmy Nail had a hit he did get a rather large ego and changed into a real prat.

Virginia Wolf had two old buddies of mine in the band, Joe Burt and Jason Bonham, so when we went to Ibiza to record it was party time from start to finish, though Jason did go overboard a bit, so to protect us more than him we sent him back to England. I was only involved in one Cross album, Shove It, and that was just going to be another RT solo album so he played all the instruments himself.

I think I've mentioned before that we drove the Bentley to Montreux, well this was the time. The plan was to spend three or four days in Montreux recording then go to Gstaad to write some more songs. That was the excuse because we had a huge chalet there and the idea was to do a lot of skiing and a bit of writing, which is exactly what we did. It was in Gstaad that Roger came up with the idea of forming a band, and after a hard day on the slopes we would sit around at night working out a plan on putting a band together. On the subject of Bentleys and Gstaad I feel obliged to tell you just how much bad luck RT has with his cars.

When he bought his first Range Rover he claimed "You can park them on a sixpence." We had to tow him out of a ditch. His Ferrari burst into flames on his way to the south of France, and his Aston Martin also burst into flames. He hardly ever drove the Bentley, it was my baby and I loved it and never had any problems. Dominique decided she was going to join our little ski trip and was coming to Gstaad, now don't get me wrong, I love Dom, a fine lady, still is, it's just that I didn't fancy the hour drive down the mountain and then the hour along the motorway to the airport. On the day of her arrival RT surprised me by saying he was going to pick her up, that'll do me, drop me off at the chair lift and have a nice drive. A very pleasant afternoon was spent on the piste so when I get back to the house I'm ready for some mindless computer games, and while in the middle of shooting some aliens the phone rings and it's Dominique asking where Roger was as he's not at the airport to pick her up.

The only thing I can say is for her to hang on because he left in plenty of time so he should be there, and I'm back to saving the world. Hours later the door flies open with Roger ranting and raving and saying something about F-in-cars. What's his problem? I look out the window and in the driveway is a VW Golf, so the obvious question is, "Where's the Bentley?" When his lordship finally calmed down he explained that when he got to the motorway there was a blizzard, so he had to have the windscreen wipers on full, but the one on the drivers side came off, so he stopped the car and was groping around in the snow looking for it, and he found it and put it back on. So far so good, except a couple of miles further on it came off again, and this time it was nowhere to be seen. Now try and picture the situation. Swiss motorway, lots of snow falling, very expensive black Bentley and a very famous pop star hanging out the window while driving so he can wipe the snow off the screen so he can see. Not a very good look at all.

On arrival at Geneva he took the car to the Rolls Royce dealer to get fixed, and it wasn't long after this that I said my final goodbye to a trusty friend. Roger on the other hand said Good F***ing Riddance. I have an equally pathetic driving story when we were in Rio, this time it was the two of us, a convertible and one hell of a lot of rain. Next time might be right to tell you how we put the Cross together from the first ad. onwards. Before I go I have a question for Jacky. Do you remember all those bacon sandwiches we had at the auditions? That's it for now Bye

Crystal