#he would make a board just with inspirational quotes for house

[nigesakis]

rip james wilson you wouldve loved Pinterest

[angellayercake]

He is

Vampire Terzo x FReader | NSFW

Art by the wonderful @tasty-ribz

For @ghostchems on her birthday! To be a little bit soppy as much as I love ghost for being ghost it has also brought me some incredible friends. We bonded over loving terzo and love island and now you are my favourite person to scream about awful men with every day. I hope everyone is making you feel a special as Terzo would today because as far as we are concerned yours is the only important birthday happening this month 💜

Now a best selling author thanks to your experience at Crowley Manor you find yourself struggling to muster up inspiration for the sequel. Will returning to the place it all began help you? Or just confirm the none of it was real? A sequel to Cirice Warnings: blood, rough sex, hints of mind control, pinv sex, cunnilingus, lots of dust hehe

With a huff of frustration you scratch out the poor excuse for a sentence and drop your pen. There were more scribbles across the page then there were words and you needed a break or you might end up throwing your note pad across the room. Abandoning your desk you wander over to the window for a distraction from your writer's block. The evening was drawing in, street lights flickering on one by one as people hurried home from their day whether it be work or leisure it was still an unwelcome reminder of your lack of productivity. Turning from the view you scan across the room, your home office, hoping for something to spark your inspiration but your mind remains unhelpfully blank. You ponder just giving up for the day, shutting the door and giving yourself over to your evening but deadlines are approaching and there is still so much to do. With a reluctant determination, you turn to your inspiration board and will it to do its job. 

When you had decided to write a follow up to your best selling debut novel, you had carefully gathered all the things you knew you would need to refer to to build the story. There were your photographs from Crowley Manor, newspaper clippings about the house and the area, quotes and key plot points from the original story,  a couple of photos of bela lugosi, the closest you can find to how you remember him looking - although you have sketched what you recall of the facepaint he wore over the top with a marker - and in the centre, the note; the only thing you have that proves that it was real. Well, that and the two small scars on your neck. You rub your fingers over them absentmindedly as you try to remember anything more but even as the scars faded, so did your memories to the point where you are not entirely sure any of it was real. Reading over the words again. 

 A candle casting a faint glow

You and I see eye to eye

Can you hear the thunder?

How can you hear the thunder that's breaking?

Now there is nothing between us

From now our merge is eternal

Can't you see that you're lost?

Can't you see that you're lost without me?

-iii

You hum the tune to yourself, the melody you had only heard once and yet it plays through your dreams so frequently you have never been able to forget it, always accompanied by a dark shadow and the sense that you are being watched. Your experience at Crowley Manor - whether a true encounter with a dashing vampire or a figment of your imagination - had changed your life. You were a writer now; a successful published writer. Your vampire romance novel had been an instant best seller, ‘the mysterious vampire luring in unsuspecting victims until one stole his heart’ earned a loyal fanbase and quickly. In interview after interview you were asked if you had based him on someone real, probably assuming he was an older man you had a crush on, but you always answered no because how could you explain that he was a man you had most likely conjured up in a dream. 

But that had all brought you to where you were now; attempting to write the much anticipated sequel. The heroine of your story had left the manor in a similar way to you but after having spent much longer with her vampire lover, and as much as you wanted to see them reunited you were struggling to find the narrative. Unlike you she had been offered forever with him and had chosen to return to her normal life, so without a justified reason, why would she return? Your thought process hits a brick wall once again as you rub your tired eyes. There is only one thing left to try before you may be forced to give up. The familiar pull in your gut that you had been resisting since the day you left was finally winning. You had to go back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gate is rusted and stiff, so you have to push hard to create enough space for you to slip through and even then you almost trip on the piles of rubbish littering the driveway. You step over the buckled historical society sign with a sigh - even they had given up on the place and for some time by the looks of things. Tall weeds were growing through the now sparse gravel, even more windows had been boarded up and there were layers of faded graffiti covering the front door. It is already ajar but you have to shove it open, pushing it past the built up leaves and dust trying to wedge it closed. Although the state of the outside had saddened you, it is the interior that makes your heart sink -  it was never nice to see a beautiful old house fall into ruin.

The floorboards still gave their familiar creak under your soft footsteps, but that was about the only similarity. The sconces, once filled with dripping candles were now empty and shrouded in cobwebs, and dust motes thick enough to choke you floated in what little beams of light that made it through the windows. Without the soft piano luring you further into the house you took your time to properly look around, cautiously walking through room after room. What little furniture that hadn’t been stolen or vandalised was covered in dust sheets. The shelving sits almost empty in every room; you pass only a few odd books and trinkets still in place but almost unrecognisable underneath all the grime. 

Towards the back of the house you come to what looks like a music room and a feeling of deja vu washes over you. The grand piano still dominates the room, but when you run your fingers across what little keys are left it only lets out reluctant, discordant notes as neglected and decaying as the rest of your surroundings. The fireplace is a yawning chasm on the back wall without the welcoming fire filling it, but you remember laying on the soft rug before it where he had given and taken unimaginable pleasure from you, well at least you thought. Because it was seeming more and more likely you had imagined it. You pull yourself from your thoughts and that is when the portrait catches your eye. How you never noticed it before you don’t understand, but it hangs perfectly above the mantel and crushes the last shreds of hope you were clinging onto. 

It is him. His distinctive face paint, his perfectly styled hair and his intense mismatched eyes. At least now you know what really happened on your last visit to this place. Before you had fallen asleep you must have seen this portrait on your last visit, striking as he was and then your mind had concocted the whole fantasy. You are not sure exactly what you had been expecting returning to Crowley Manor, but you couldn’t avoid the cutting disappointment that was slicing through you. All that was here was an empty old house and a painting of a man. With one last longing look you take your leave as you fight the knot of feelings solidifying in your chest. There was nothing else for you here. You reach the foyer where the light of dusk shines around the edges of the open door, illuminating your exit from this house and your return to reality, when you hear it… 

We're standing here by the abyss…

That voice. The words were different and even the tune was different, but that voice. There was nothing else it could be but him. The alluring sound drifts down from the upper floor to where you stand and you don’t even try to resist his siren call as your feet carry you towards the grand staircase.

And the world is in flames…

Your footprints disturb the thick layers of dust covering the once grand carpet that leads the way up, but you continue unconcerned by the trail you are leaving in your wake, your only thought finding your way to the source of that beautiful sound. 

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out…

It gets clearer as you reach the upper level, but you still haven't quite found him yet. Along the landing are multiple doors that you consider as you walk, but once your eyes land on the ornate double doors at the furthest end you know inherently; that is your destination.

To the beast with many names…

The floorboards creak as you get closer and closer even as you attempt to keep your steps measured and even, but if that didn’t give you away then you are sure your laboured breathing and thundering heartbeat would. 

He is. He's the shining and the light without whom I cannot see…

The singing stops when you reach the doors and with barely a brush of your fingertips,they swing open revealing only a dark room within. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, but even that doesn’t make you hesitate to enter. It is as abandoned as the rest of this cursed house. All the anticipation you had felt soured inside you and tears pricked at your eyes as you circled in the centre of the room taking in the dusty bed and empty fireplace. Your back is turned when a sudden bang startles you, the doors slamming shut. You cry out in fear, turning in an instant and rushing towards them. Pushing and pulling is futile and they will not budge. The knowledge that you are trapped fills you with a shiver as a chill falls over the room.   

“My little lamb returns,” he growls in your ear, appearing as if from nowhere. His arms box you in against the door, his white gloves the only part of him you can see. You try to turn, to see him but his body presses close, cold and unyielding as stone behind you. You should do something, anything but fear and lust paralyse you as they tear through you in equal measure.

“You are real,” you barely whisper before his fangs sink into your neck, the sharp shock of pain stealing your consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes flutter open you find it hard to believe you are even in the same room. You are lying in the centre of a four poster bed, propped up against a mountain of airy pillows and as you shift the sheets feel unbelievably soft against your fingers. The heavy drapes are tied to the frame on one side giving you a clear view of the fireplace and the figure silhouetted against it. His back is to you, seemingly unaware that you are now awake so you take your time admiring him.

It is undoubtedly him. His hair is slicked back, familiar in both your memory and in his portrait you had not long discovered. This time he wears a white suit with gold trim that glimmers in the firelight and it is certainly one you have never seen before. He turns in your direction giving you a glimpse of his striking profile still covered in his unusual skull-like face paint. He clears his throat glancing at you and you realise he is also holding a book up to the fire light. Not just any book. That is your book. The one you had written about him. You sit bolt upright but a wave of dizziness stops you from acting any further. 

“His touch feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It scares you how much you crave it; how much you want him to keep touching you and to never stop. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, despite the overwhelming feeling of comfort that has fallen over you.” He smirks as he reads your words back to you with an arrogance that can only come from knowing it was written about him. 

“How did you get that?” you hiss at him, the mortification you are experiencing seems to break some of the spell he has over you. He chuckles darkly in response, snapping the book shut and placing it on the nightstand so you can see the very suggestive illustration you had commissioned for the cover clearly.

“You have a way with words, agnellino.” He leans against the bedpost, running his eyes over you and watching how you react just to his presence. “Do you still crave my touch as much as you wrote?” His elongated teeth peek out of his mouth with how wide his smile is, clearly enjoying having this additional power over you. You almost miss not so long ago when you believed he had been a figment of your imagination. 

“It’s called creative licence,” you snap back breathlessly, trying your damnedest to keep your composure but you make the mistake of meeting his mismatched eyes and you are pulled under all over again. It’s like he can worm his way into your very soul and convince you of anything he desires.

“Why did you come back?” He looms over you at the end of the bed as he waits for you to answer him. As subtly as you can, you try to sit yourself up to make yourself feel less vulnerable but your limbs are weak and uncooperative.

“I’m writing again,” you start. It is the truth - or at least part of the truth - but you can tell he doesn't believe you, fixing you with his intense stare, waiting for you to be more forthcoming. “Last time I was here it was very… inspiring.”

“I see, I see.” He starts to pace next to the bed, giving you a reprieve and a chance to breathe but you sense it is by no means the end of your interrogation.  “Just ‘professional interest’ then?”

“Yes, that is all. I should go.” You try again to sit up and ease yourself off the bed but before your feet can touch the ground he kneels in front of you, blocking you from moving any further.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolds, wagging his finger at you like he was disciplining a wayward child. “You come into my home uninvited - again, I might add.” He leans close enough you can feel the cold radiating from him, his teeth bared threateningly. “I need the truth.” Fear makes you tense but somehow you know he would never really hurt you - at least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. You start to think his irritation is more directed at your refusal to admit how much you want him rather than the fact you broke into his house. Again. 

“You lured me up here! You could have just let me leave.” That thought boosts your confidence just enough to push back. Just a little. He didn't have to reveal himself to you everytime you were here, and yet he did.

“No I couldn't, little lamb,” he whispers, a softness falling over his face. “I could never resist a chance to taste you again.” His attention drops to your feet, helping you out of your shoes before he stands again before you. “Tell me why you are really here.”  He had given you your chance to tell him of your own volition, but now you could feel his will influencing you and bringing forth the truth. He eases his jacket from his shoulders, leaving it on the floor where it falls. He makes quick work of his bow tie adding it to the pile of clothes at his feet. 

His cuff links go next, freeing him to turn up his sleeves and then his collar sliding one button free at a time until it hangs open. His toned chest is covered in thick dark hair and it's all you can do not to reach out and bury your fingers in it. Even without his vampiric lure, you would struggle to resist him. He crawls over you, forcing you to scoot back onto the bed to make room for him and you find yourself unable to speak as you get lost in his eyes.

“Tell me…” He is intoxicating and you find you no longer have the willpower to resist him. You had forgotten how powerful he was, his presence alone narrowing your mind until all you can think of is him. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but somehow they still won't come. 

“Why are you here agnellino, eh?” He holds himself over you, the only thing touching you are the open tails of his shirt, denying you any more until you obey him. “Did you miss me?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were real any more,” you admit reluctantly and his eyes alight at your delayed admission.

“Shall I remind you how real I am?” There is a voice in your mind somewhere telling you to say no, but with every other part of you screaming a resounding yes it is easy to tune out - though you still can’t quite bring yourself to say it. So you nod and he wastes no more time. His dexterous fingers make quick work of your trousers and your underwear, pulling them off you in one swift motion and then he is on you. His strong hand grasps your ankle, pulling you even closer so he can press his lips to your bare skin. 

He starts at the sole of your foot, lavishing you with open mouthed kisses and grazes of his dangerous teeth. He seeks out parts of your body you had never even known were sensitive before, whether it was his plush mouth sucking at them or tracing them with his tongue. The curve of your calf, the dip behind your knee and the crease of your inner thigh. His cool breath raises goosebumps across your skin and he chases them with his mouth, only pausing to suck on the beads of blood that bloom where he allows his fangs to nick your skin. The contrasts make you needy for more of his touch, the warm and the cold, the pleasure and the pain. When he eventually reaches your core he ceases all his teasing and devours you, his groans of pleasure vibrating through you as he laps at your entrance and sucks on your clit. 

“Every part of you tastes exquisite,” he moans again at your skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, allowing himself access to even more of your skin. Your bra is pulled roughly aside so he can latch onto your nipples one after the other. Losing himself in his lust, he pinches them roughly as his teeth make deliberate shallow slices in your cleavage. He suckles at them harshly, milking all the blood he can from such a surface cut. 

Eventually he reaches your neck pressing a deceptively gentle kiss to your scar from your last encounter before seeking out the fresher puncture wounds from earlier in the evening. He probes them harshly with his tongue disturbing the newly formed clots enabling him to drink freely from you until he is positively drunk on you. 

“You are so warm agnellino,” he moans, reluctantly pulling away from you only to tear off his loose shirt and rip off his trousers. He fits himself back on top of you, desperate to be as close as possible and ruts his aching length against your hip, his mouth latching back onto your neck. He rears back giving you the opportunity to see him for the hunger ridden monster he is, but it only makes you want him more. His face paint is smudged across his face, the once precise lines blurring and blending with what remains of your blood and your juices, and his eyes sparkle with something dangerous that you can't resist. With a snarl he forces your legs wide so he can see all of you, his fingers digging a bruising grip into your soft thighs.

“After tonight you will never again doubt my existence,” he growls as he fucks into you in one long, hard stroke. There is no waiting for you to grow accustomed to him filling you; he just takes you hard, pushing the air from your lungs every time he fills you. He is rough and demanding and you crave every part of this more animalistic side to him. Your blood loss and his body worship have pushed you outside your own body, the pleasure and the pain meeting and blending and pushing you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. 

Even as his control was slipping even further away, his cock aimed perfectly, fucking into you in exactly the right place over and over while the drag of him inside your tight heat forced sobs and gasps from both of you. In the state he had you, you knew you would do anything and everything he wanted and if you hadn’t been so light headed, you might have realised that that was exactly what he wanted. He grunts as he pulls you closer, angling your hips just so that he can fuck into you even deeper, your moans of satisfaction harmonising as somehow your pleasure grows stronger than you ever thought possible. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this since me, little lamb?” He is panting, hardly able to get his words out, somehow seeming more human even in the midst of his monstrous lust. 

“No,” you whine. There is no use denying it, because who could possibly compare to him?

“Bene,” he snarls, a possessive sneer crossing his face. “No one will ever, ever fuck you like me.’ You sob in agreement as the burn in your core grows, bringing you so close. Babbled nonsense falls from your lips. You can only hope he understands how little you need to push you over the edge. 

Thankfully something you said must have made sense, because in the next moment his thumb is stroking your clit in time with his ever more frantic thrusts and the wave of your climax begins to crash, sweeping you along in its powerful tide. Your vision greys at the edges and vaguely, somewhere amidst the buzz, you feel him reach his peak just behind you as his thrusts stutter before stilling as he fills you.

Inelegantly he pulls away, landing beside you on the bed. He pulls you to him stroking your hair and dotting your forehead with sweet kisses. Contentment surges through you as you rest against his chest, his lack of heartbeat barely registering. 

“You are so very sleepy, little lamb,” he breathes into your hair, and you can only spare a thought to agree as you succumb to the overwhelming pull of sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold and stale morning air lures you from your sleep this time, a much less pleasant awakening than your last. Your whole body aches as you shift and try to take in your surroundings. You are alone. The dawn light spilling through the drapes allows you to see, and the bedroom appears dusty and abandoned, not the cosy boudoir you had experienced last night. 

The dusty sheets cling to your clothes as you try to stand but every movement reveals a new bite mark or bruise until you are on your feet. The worst pain though, is the ache in your heart. This should have been expected and yet the fact that he isn't here hurts. Rather than satisfying you, this second encounter only made you yearn more for this terrible, mysterious man. Your only consolation was that now at least, you will have plenty more to write about. 

You don't try to call out to him, already knowing how futile that would be, so you look once more around the room, trying hard to commit it all to memory when the night stand catches your attention. A single white rose sits atop a folded piece of paper. You pick them both up, carefully making sure to avoid the sharp thorns and unfold the paper to see that unmistakable handwriting. 

We’re standing here by the abyss

And the world is in flames

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out

To the beast with many names 

He is

He’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see

-iii

His words were cryptic as ever but you let it fill you with uncertain hope. Maybe you were the star-crossed lovers? Or maybe not. All you knew for now at least, was that you felt you were still at the very beginning of this story…

…and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you. 

[crystalaris]

This was massively inspired by @novanitee

I have to say I loved a lot of your Yandere Moonknight stories and couldn’t help but wonder how a Yandere would react to someone who doesn’t want to leave and one who’s happy to stay. So if I’m being honest this was more for me, but I loved how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved your stories

Leaving Isn't an Option

Yandere Moonknight x OC

It's not so bad, being stuck here.

And 'stuck' is the right word.

I'm not really trapped, per say, just... encouraged to stay put.

Which is easy, it's not like I did anything else before. Go to work, pay the bills, cook, repeat.

Life was monotonous and very, very lonely.

I'm not sure when, where or even how I ended up in the world of Moon Knight. Or even the Marvel Universe. I didn't really get out much, didn't really have a reason to.

Just a boring and lonely existence.

Maybe it was wishing something would happen.

Maybe it was staring at the moon and quoting, "Second Star to the right and Straight on till Morning." Never really knowing if the star was my right or the moon's right because it's never been specified.

But something happened.

Something shifted.

I was no longer there, but here.

Which I understand makes absolutely no sense, but it happened without my knowledge and my days went on like normal.

I've never watched the news, it always felt misleading.

Never bothered with facebook, FarmVille had long since become boarding and redundant. Who waits 4 hours of real life time for one patch of strawberries to grow?

I wasnt going to spend five dollars on speed enhancers.

Never really called my parents, they finally got the kids out of their house? Why would they want to see me?

I've only ever talked to my fellow fan fiction writers and readers on Discord, but we all were focused on our mutual love for Undertale. So not really friend friends, but also not not friends.

Weird, believe me I know.

So absolutely no real reason to leave except for food and the extremely rare occasion for eating out.

I had no real reason to even suspect being on someone's radar.

I had never been and forever assumed I would never be.

Friends and acquaintances? Easy.

Family? Yeah, well you either have them or you don't.

Lovers? What's that? Can you eat it? ...Ew, on second thought don't answer that. Please.

So really, my life wasn't't anything special.

Or shouldn't have been anything special.

My life changed when I had decided I didn't want to cook that day. So I went to a Burger King next to a Starbucks. Simple.

Fill up on the fries and drink, have a burger for breakfast, all for a debatable price of 10 dollars.

Again nothing special.

A sit-down would be expensive and would remind me just how alone I was.

I guess I was pretty predictable, always going to the same places to eat or shop, but I never really noticed.

Never really cared.

Not until he, well I should really say 'they' , pointed it out. And they never pointed it out until they made sure I could never leave, which again I don't really mind.

I met them, him when I walked out the door accidentally spilling iced coke all over the poor guy.

Apologizing profusely, I had offered to buy him lunch as an apology, its not like I could buy the guy a new shirt.

I'm somewhat surprised I didn't recognize him to begin with, sure he looked familiar and his name was Steven, but what really should have sold it was the fact that Steven with a 'V' was Vegan.

Though I was more surprised that Burger King had vegan options, the impossible burger? Really?

I guess its in the name. Still, shocking, both the burger and my own stupidity.

But I liked him.

He was nice, well muscled, dark hair (that was my weakness, those cheating bastards) and polite.

Honestly, what wasn't there to love? We talked. A lot.

I was pretty thrilled when he shyly asked for my number. I thought 'Why not? It'd be nice to have a friend again.' And we traded phones, I never noticed him activate the tracking part of the phone.

I probably shouldn't have been so lazy and trusting (Jake has lectured me a lot on that, really that sweet worry wart) handing Steven my phone, in my defense I've never had to worry about that.

Steven once told me he finally understood why Marc and Jake had wanted to protect his innocence once they had met me.

Others probably would have been offended, me? I was honored and kissed him.

It was... nice, having someone to talk to, someone to text.

Someone I could just be me.

Steven would send these really cute or funny history bits, mostly Egyptian, sometimes complaining that gods can be annoyingly demanding.

Again, I should have noticed, but really would you notice? Or even care too? We all complain about god.

Looking back, I feel like my past self was one of those side characters on Doctor Who that never noticed aliens or the blue police box.

To be fair, its easier to notice things when they don't happen to you. Still makes me feel stupid though.

I never really found it odd that we kept meeting up when ever I was out shopping, passing it off as coincidence time and time again.

Sure there were times I felt someone watching, but every time there was no one following me.

Sure there was a feeling or two that made me glance over my shoulder a few times just to check, but then Steven would show up and it would stop.

Which was extremely relieving, having Steven by my side. After a while it turned stressful without Steven there to shop with. I tried not to, but calling him and asking if he'd like to shop together made the day that much better, that much less lonely.

It was on one such day, after feeling a piercing stare and finding nothing, that I ended up laying my head on his shoulder with a sigh of relief.

Of course I removed it with a shit load of apologies. But to my utter amazement, after he got over his shock, he just smiled and gently placed my head back on his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" I asked, again still a bit worried.

His smile was so gentle, so sweet, so warm, "Of course, luv." And placed his arm around my shoulder. Heaven could never have such forbidden fruit.

I, gladly, soaked up as much as I could.

Steven could be the nectar of the gods with his sweetness, he laughed quite happily when I told him that once, well it was a mumble, but still... true.

We didn't just shop together, I rather enjoyed inviting him over so he could teach me some vegan recipes.

Being with Steven made life, easier.

It was easier to breathe, to enjoy breathing again. I wasn't just moving through the motions of life, I was Living again.

I could actually look forward to tomorrow.

And when tomorrow came, Steven asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend.

I was flummoxed.

Me? Steven wanted me?

I didn't know it but Jake was rather close to fronting and yelling at me for daring to hurt sweet Steven, when I hadn't answered soon enough.

Tears had slowly fallen from my eyes and Steven nearly went into a panic seemingly about to apologize when I softly asked, "Me? Are you sure?"

It was the first time anyone had ever asked. Had ever looked at me.

His smile could have melted gold, easily shattering my shields, ones I never knew had surrounding my heart.

It burned, but somehow in a good way, still it was too much and I looked away.

He had to cup my cheeks in his hands, getting me to look at him. His thumb wiping away a stray tear, "I would love that, luv. Would you be willing to be mine?"

Choking back a sob, "No one... no one ever... ever... no one's ever wanted me."

I couldn't help leaning into his gentle touch, missing the frown that formed, but he quickly wiped it away from their face, "Not like that anyway. I've...I've had a few crushes, but nothing ever..."

I couldn't help looking into his eyes, practically begging for this to not be a dream, searching for even a hint of a lie.

I searched his face, soft and gentle, "Are...are you sure you want me?"

"Oh, baby girl of course we want you."

I wailed clutching him tighter as he leaned me on to his shoulder, as he shushed me rocking me back and forth, " I've got you, baby girl. Shhhh. We've got you. Shhh" years of pain, anguish, want flowed into those tears. "Let it out, mi amor. Let it all go."

I didn't leave his arms that night, or even that weekend. We refused to let go of each other. Sometimes the grips were tighter, or stronger but all it felt like was safety and home. I didn't want them to let go.

I was wanted.

I was happy for the first time in forever.

It nearly tore me apart watching them walk away, but I did have work in the morning.

Work had never been such a drag until then.

It physically hurt to be away from Steven, so I did the one thing I could think of. I went to the hardware store after work.

As much as it hurt not to ask Steven to come I wanted it to be a surprise, but like always I felt those eyes boring into me. It made me want to call Steven, but... but picturing his, hopefully, happy face? I could deal with the discomfort.

The feeling didn't stop, at least I think it didn't, I'm not sure when it did but the older clerk behind the counter had smiled when she saw my fidgeting, "Ah, someone special?"

I could only blush violently and nod my head nervously. Her smile widened, "What a lucky man." She reached behind the counter, and started running the machine.

"Well, ...he's my, my first... so..." my nerves were eating me alive, but it'd be worth it.

"Really?" She looked surprised as the lady looked me up and down, "When I'm glad. You seem like a sweet young lady." The clerk chittered on.

It was nearly ten minutes of constant chattering as the clerk milked me for information.

I didn't really want to brag, didn't want to jinx it, but it felt good to share.

It felt good to smile.

The clerk watched on with a warm smile of encouragement as I called my boyfriend, biting my bottom lip as she handed it over and I placed the small box into my pocket.

-click-

" 'Ello?"

Swallowing nervously, "Steven?'

"Luv?" He sounded a bit worried.

"Yeah, ah hi. I was wondering..." I couldn't stop tapping my fingers on my leg just to use some of my extra energy. Steven, sweet, sweet Steven just patiently hummed, "if you wouldn't mind coming over? Please."

Not even noticing the man walking away on the phone two isles down.

"Sure I wouldn't mind luv."

"Great" I squeaked before quickly repeating it in a more normal voice, " See you in a few"

"See you in a few, luv."

-click-

Letting out a large breath, I turned and thanked the clerk as I handed over the money with a smile on my face, "Thank you."

"No thank you for making this old lady's day. I wish you luck."

I couldn't hold back my chuckle, "And I wish you a good week of good customers."

That made her laugh as she handed me change, "Ah, I see, another fellow retailer?"

"Yeah, first few years of college were horrible."

"Say no more." She said with a smile on her face.

I returned it, "Again, thank you."

"It's no trouble, now go on, shoo!" She waved her hands, "you've got a boy to gift. Shoo!"

I laughed on my way out, feeling happy and hopeful.

A great day indeed.

It turned into an even better day when Steven opened the box to reveal my new extra house key.

I didn't see the kiss coming, "It's absolutely beautiful, baby girl."

Completely shocked, missing how his accent had dropped as I touched my lips a deep blush forming. "What? Baby girl, what is it?"

Looking up, I blushed deeper catching a glance of his lips before staring into those deep eyes, they were the same, yet they somehow held more.

"That- that was my first..." I squeaked.

"Oh, oh!" I never noticed as he held me closer, leading me into a hug as Steven glared daggers at the reflection.

(Jake was so proud, both at Marc's kiss and Stevens glare. His boys were growing a backbone!).

"I'm so sorry, luv!"

I couldn't help hugging him back, squeezing a bit before asking, "Could, could we... again?"

This made him smile as he leaned back and looked into my eyes with his warm, ice melting ones, "Sure."

The second one was warm and comforting, the third became ruff and deep and I couldn't help loving all of them, I felt wanted, I felt loved again.

This man was slowly becoming my entire world.

And everyday he would come over after work.

Everyday he would kiss me at least three times, each with there own flare, each with their own intensity and still I greedily accepted each and every one.

— — —

They, well Steven had been dating her for months, with Jake and Marc coming out on occasion. She never seemed to notice or if she did she brushed it off.

They loved her, they really did, but sometimes he wished she would notice. Wish she'd ask questions, it'd make it much easier to come clean.

Though Marc seemed to enjoy the lack of in his words, 'unnecessary' questions. Jake bemoaned the fact that she was so oblivious.

This may have started with an order from Khonshu, but it had become an obsession over time.

Layla was a strong woman and Marc had loved her in his own way. Marc's ex was strong alone, could easily, has easily fought confidently, side by side with Marc and Steven, but she and Jake clashed, each just as bull headed as the other, making a relationship a bit difficult with the three.

Plus Jake wasn't happy when Layla had smacked Marc across the face.

Marc had defended her saying he deserved it since he left, but Jake refused to let Layla be alone with Marc or Steven.

Deserved or not, if she did it once she would do it again and Jake refused to leave his boys defenseless.

He knew Marc and Steven wouldn't fight against Layla, Jake however...

So the three were just friends, while Jake only tolerates Layla for his boy's happiness. Sure they were sad at the end of the relationship, but Jake knew they deserved better. It's why he stayed as Khonshu's Avatar (and boy was that a shit show when he had dropped the beans, they forgave him and moved on. He really does love them.)

So when an order came to watch someone who doesn't belong in this world, all three went, each curious in their own way.

They would admit the woman was... ... ...boring?

Normal?

Well, she didn't seem like she was any different, but hey Harrow fell off the deep end why can't she?

So they watched and watched, it was an order, an easy order but an order none the less until Khonshu deemed her to be just another pathetic worm that no longer needed their attention.

They... didn't really stop.

They had noticed her schedule, had memorized it to the point they ended up following it subconsciously.

If anyone was to blame it was entirely the god's fault.

Steven thought she was sweet.

Marc noticed how lonely she felt.

Jake saw.

Saw how she was withering away, how she practically begged for protection.

Jake really liked how she seemed to sense them, liked how she trusted her instincts, weak as they were she still had them.

She was a walking contradiction in some ways.

She kept her head down and avoided people, avoided being seen, but they saw her.

They watched her.

They noticed how she seemed to hide and it flared all of their protective instincts.

Originally it was a way to pass time.

They didn't really need to work for money anymore, they had plenty and Khonshu had them take certain jobs, and if Jake could get some money out of it, then all the better.

Steven never really liked the 'blood' money, but Jake and Marc refuse to let Steven get stuck in retail or with another piece of trash boss again.

(Donna is still lucky to be alive, the two are still waiting for the perfect time. Its not murder if something just 'happens' right?)

But Steven didn't mind watching her, so they compromised.

Watching her for the day, and working with Khonshu at night (they slept when she went to work, no biggie).

At first it wasn't hard to leave for Khonshu's 'trips', but it became harder as time passed on.

Soon returning ended up as their priority and Khonshu could careless so long as the job was done.

Since Marc and Steven wanted the job done just as much to get back, Khonshu didn't really have any complaints, "Apparently even a worm has its uses."

He was dutifully ignored.

They wanted to get to know her, to be apart of her life.

And if she broke their heart? Well, Jake would take care of it.

All three had found something in her that they enjoyed.

For Steven, she was sweet (Hah! Told you guys so!) and so welcoming. She enjoyed listening to him and both genuinely enjoyed the documentaries that Marc and Jake became bored to death with. Even making a game of it at one point when she started explaining why one documentary was wrong, elaborating each point and encouraged him to do the same.

Marc, well Marc loved all the cuddles and how she showed that she cared (for Steven) making food and learning recipies together, always finding a way to touch. And just leaning on them in general.

It helped that she never pried or asked for more information. If she did and he said 'no' she dropped it unlike Layla, and would always remind him she was there if he wanted.

It was refreshing if Marc was being honest.

Jake rather enjoyed how she depended on him (them). She would tense up when they watched her from afar, like he said she had instincts.

He really liked when she started calling them every time she even felt remotely scared. Jake loved how she would lean on them for comfort and melt into their embrace after that first time.

It felt good to be needed in subtle ways.

She would ask for their opinions, but would also ask why instead of just obeying. He liked the little arguments, they were fun and unlike with Layla she didn't get violent when angry, just puffed out her tiny little cheeks, ardilla listada (chipmunk) he had called her and she responded with Qué?

"¿Asi que hablas espanol?"

"en inglés por favor"

He barked out a laugh and he loved the way her eyes sparked as she nailed the accent, all three were rather impressed.

"No."

"Sí"

"No"

"Sí!"

Jake, over all, enjoyed her spunk.

He did however nearly lose it when Steven asked her to be their girlfriend and she didn't respond, she nearly broke their hearts, but then it broke for another reason entirely.

She cried because nobody had wanted her.

And, well, that just sealed the deal, she wouldn't leave them, ever.

They'd never allow it.

If only they could get her home, right now.

...but even a starving predator is patient. So they settle for just holding her tightly in their arms, each taking their own turn, but refusing to let go.

Leaving was one of the hardest and yet the most satisfying things they have ever felt.

And Damn, it hurt to leave, but the way she refused to let them out of her sight, the way they could feel her eyes on them?

They had never walked so slow before, never looked back to her window so much. It was amazing to know she didn't want them to leave as much as they didn't want to leave.

So imagine their rage when she was late returning home from work.

Oh, they wouldn't have been worried (they were) since they followed her phone to the hardware store.

If she was mugged it'd be the last thing the asshole would ever know.

When it turned out she was the one to make a side trip, Oh they were pissed.

They loved her, but she should have, no needed to be home with them, she shouldn't have left! Job or no.

Jake wondered if it was too soon to dish out a bit of punishment. They really didn't like how the lady looked at their girl.

Jake did, however, settle a bit when he saw how she looked around and fingered her phone, the other two noticed as well and calmed down, just a bit.

It helped to know she was still thinking of them, still she needed to be at home.

They chose an isle that was close enough to hear them, but still had the perfect view of their girl. Tense shoulders relaxed as their discussion went on.

So imagine their surprise when they answered the call. When Steven met them and was handed a personal gift.

She was definitely forgiven.

And in a way, it allowed each of them to come out. To show themselves to her.

She eagerly accepted their affection and they couldn't be more thrilled.

She was their innocent bean.

———

An: how she came here and how it ends I leave that up to you. Personally I’m a sucker for happy endings

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Mitch & "Matilda")

"Well, everybody's crying. I never play that song facing the crowd. One night I thought, 'Why don't I just try it one time facing the crowd?' It was deep into the tour, and all of a sudden I'm paying attention, and I almost stopped playing. I thought, 'God, this is what we've been playing every night?'"

That quote about the song Matilda from an interview Mitch recently did inspired me to write this little story. Very Mitch introspective about his love for Sarah and reader.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Word Count: 1.1K

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

The first thing Mitch noticed about the song “Matilda” was how difficult the guitar part was. For weeks that was all he noticed since that’s how long it took him to master it. After practicing over and over he felt confident that he finally had it perfect. This was especially important since he basically was the only instrument playing for the first half of the song. If he hit one sour note, there would be no covering it up. Everyone would know.

He hadn’t given much thought to the lyrics of the song at first. It wasn’t until Sarah brought it up one night over dinner that he realized how focused he had been on his part and hadn’t heard the song as a whole.

It made sense that Sarah was much more invested in the words than he was. Since there was no drum part to Matilda she just had to master her harmony and focus on singing.

From the very first performance after Harry’s House was released, Mitch made it a habit not to look at the audience for Matilda. It started as nerves; he would stare at his fingers on the fret board to make sure they were placed correctly. Then, he just got used to it. Plus, Sarah was always mentioning the emotions in the crowd during it, and Mitch wasn’t sure he could handle seeing the impact the song had on all the fans.

And then, he and Sarah met you. They never expected to add a third person to their relationship, but from the moment they met you, they knew you would be an important person to them. They always thought that they had everything they ever wanted but from the day you agreed to be their girlfriend they felt even more like a true family.

Knowing everything you’d been through, all the pain and suffering in your life, made them even more protective over you. They wished they could wrap you in a bubble and keep you safe and happy, but they knew that wasn’t possible. They just made sure to be there for you whenever life got especially difficult.

One of the worst moments was after Wembly night 2. This was a couple of months into your relationship, and you all had just reunited after weeks apart. It was also the anniversary of the death of your mother and sister and your grief mixed with your anxiety, leading to a very difficult night.

Mitch and Sarah hated to see you in so much pain. They did everything they could think of to comfort you and keep you calm and finally you fell asleep in their arms. It took them a while to fall asleep after that, still worried about you and when they woke the next morning to you panicking they knew their fears were valid.

They again calmed you down and brought you back to reality, helping you shake off the bad dreams from the previous night. They hated having to leave you that day to rehearse for their set at Wembley but trusted that Harry was taking good care of you in their absence.

Thankfully that day ended much better than it started. Mitch was sitting on the couch in their hotel room, Harry by his side. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of his wife holding their sleeping girlfriend in her arms on the bed.

From the moment he woke up the next morning, Mitch was extra stressed, as he was opening at Wembley Stadium with his own music that evening. He was trying to get himself ready while also keeping an eye on his girlfriend after the extra emotional day you had.

His concern for you bleeds into the following day as well. It’s the final night of their 4-show run at Wembley, and the second Mitch walks on stage he sees that you’ve somehow landed a spot front and center in the crowd. He’s relieved that he’ll be able to keep an eye on you whenever he feels worried. He knows you’re doing better, but he can’t shake his extra protective feelings.

For the first time ever, he looks out to the audience during Matilda. All he wanted to do was check on you, but he ends up scanning the crowd and the sight he sees overwhelms him. He sees the emotions on everyone’s faces and hears the lyrics being sung beautifully.

He’s suddenly hit with the realization that this must be happening at every show. Thousands of people connect with these words. It truthfully breaks his heart to know that they’ve all experienced some type of pain that has led to this song meaning so much to them.

Mitch turns back to you and feels his heart break more at the glimmer of tears in your eyes. He might not be the most expressive person, but he loves deeply, and seeing you or Sarah upset will always cause him physical pain.

As soon as they move into the bridge of the song Mitch steps offstage as he always does. He’s grateful for this moment hidden away from everyone so he can recenter himself. He takes a few deeps breaths and blinks the tears out of his eyes before switching guitars for the next song.

He gets back to his spot while Sarah is still walking from the B Stage to her drums. He meets her eyes and reaches out his hand so their fingers can brush as she walks past. It isn’t much, but that little touch grounds him immediately. He looks over to you again and sees you smiling at him, and finally he recovers from the overwhelming wave of emotions.

Later that night you’re all back at the hotel and lying together in bed. Mitch finds himself in the middle, his girls on either side, and pulls you both in close.

He feels you shift next to him and turns to face you. “I love you,” you say and press a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too baby,” he replies when you break apart. He’s about to say more but you lean over him to share an I love you and a kiss with Sarah. His heart warms watching the two of you. A moment later Sarah’s lips are on his.

The light kisses eventually turn into more, and Mitch worships his girls’ bodies, pouring all the love and words he can’t say into his actions. Afterwards you and Sarah are again tucked in close to his side, feeling loved and safe. He stays up for a while after you’ve both fallen asleep, soaking in this moment, and thanking every deity he can think of for bringing you both into his life.

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

Thank you for reading! Let me know any requests you have!

@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an @snwells @drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305

[khaleesiofalicante]

But wait! There's more!!! I mean... I had to take advantage of the time, right??

This was a reminder of how chaotic this fic was jdhdjdjkd. I love them your honor!

Ngl, I'm excited for ials' moodboard. Imma make myself cry :)

As my favorite babe would say:

Yours in faith,

Noah💙

Reading this reminded me of how chaotic and unhinged this fic was we need more of that in our lives 💙

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I loved the aesthetic! And the quotes of your choice have me reeling.

Now. I know some of yall were asking about this before. This moldboard inspired this scene. So, everyone say, thank you to noah!

---

“Well. Well. Well. Look who finally decided to show his face.”

Max feels afraid. A little. He doesn’t know why. 

Maybe it’s because he’s finally in New York after so fucking long. Maybe because he now knows his bapak - sweet bapak - actually used to be a fucking assassin. Maybe it’s because of what he’s about to do. 

Goddamnit. He should’ve done this over the phone. Or sent a letter or some shit. 

David gives his hand a little squeeze. Max finds the strength he needs. 

“Bapak,” Max whispers. 

Bapak’s face softens immediately. “FaceTime doesn’t do justice, Blueberry. You look so handsome.”

“I know right?” Max chuckles as he hugs his father tightly. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more,” bapak whispers as he pulls back. The smiles broadly. “David. Come here.”

David carefully hugs the other man. “Hello, Magnus.”

“I hope the trip was safe,” bapak smiles. 

“It was,” David smiles.

“David has more security than the president,” Max snickers. 

“As he should,” bapak huffs. “The president is a douchebag.”

Someone very pointedly clears their throat. Max tries not to roll his eyes. 

“Alec,” bapak chastises. “Help them with their luggage.”

“They have hands,” dad shrugs. 

Bapak scoffs at that. “Ignore him. He’s always grumpy during winter.”

Max chuckles awkwardly. “Not gonna lie. I thought you’d be way more pissed about this.”

“Because you got secretly married?” bapak demands.

Max’s palms are sweaty. “Yeah?”

“You know, Blueberry. I had a lot of time to think about this,” bapak tells him. “And I’ve come to the realization that this is not about me. It's about you. It’s your life and your wedding.”

“Really?” Max whispers softly. 

“Sure,” the man grins. “I mean, do I still think we should throw a small party? Definitely. Perhaps a little shindig with our close friends and family. I could make the guest list and sort out the catering and get us all matching outfits-”

Dad clears his throat again. 

“Right,” Max swallows. “Bapak. Um. It’s just…There is something you should know before.”

“Oh my god,” the man gasps softly. “Did you already have a party? Without us?”

“No. No. David and I got married very quietly,” Max confesses as he holds onto his husband for dear life. “We don’t really want a party.”

“Oh. Alright then,” bapak hums. “I guess I’ll delete my Pinterest board. It only took me…a few hours.”

Dad clears his throat again. 

“Alec,” bapak says in frustration. “Is something wrong with your throat? Do you have a cold?”

The front door creaks softly as two tiny hands push them open and run into the apartment.

Ah.

Fuck. 

“Daddy. How long do I have to stay in the car?” the boy complains softly. “It’s cold outside.”

Max adjusts the boy’s beanie and swallows thickly. “Um. So.”

“Alec,” bapak blinks a couple of times. 

“Yeah, babe?”

“There is a child in my house.”

“Yep.”

“There is a child in my house,” bapak says again. “Whose child is this?”

Max puts up his hand dumbly. David does too. 

“You two have a child,” bapak narrows his eyes. 

“It’s, um, children, actually,” David murmurs. 

“Children?” bapak echoes. “Plural?”

“Arthur is in the car,” Max says quickly. “He gets cranky if you wake him up during nap time.”

“You named them?” bapak demands. “Without me?”

“Bapak, in my defense, you named your cat Chairman Meow.”

“It’s a great name! Alec, tell them it’s a great name.”

“At least you didn’t name your kid Lancelot,” dad rolls his eyes. 

“It’s just Lance!” the little one groans. 

“Lance,” bapak’s face softens again. Then he glares at Max. “This is unacceptable.”

“Magnus,” David interrupts, taking a step forward. “We had to do it for the sake of the children. We couldn’t tell anyone. Max wanted to. I promise. But we couldn’t risk the safety of our boys. I’m sure you understand that.”

Bapak lets out a long suffering breath. “I suppose! But this situation needs to be rectified immediately!”

Max relaxes a little. Damn. He really thought this was going to go south. 

“We’ll have a little family dinner. A tiny one. We can get to know each other,” bapak smiles as he ruffles Lance’s hair. “We have to tell Rafael. He’s going to have a stroke.”

“Yay!” Lance cheers. “Uncle Rafe’s coming!”

There is a terrible silence.

“Rafael knows?” bapak asks dangerously. 

“It was an accident! Lance was playing with my phone and he accidentally FaceTimed Rafe and it was this whole thing but-“

“So, I’m the last person to know?” the man demands. 

“Um,” Max gulps. “Uncle Jace doesn’t know yet.”

“I’M IN THE SAME CATEGORY AS JACE?”

“Bapak.”

“Alec.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Get my assassin’s toolbox.”

“On it.”

“Bapak!” Max groans. “We have a child!”

“Children!” David reminds. “Plural!”

“You are being so extra right now!” Max complains. 

“Excuse me, I’m not the one who eloped to Paris and got married in secret and has a wholeass secret family!” the man growls at him as he goes through what actually looks like an assassin’s toolbox. 

Jesus fuck. 

“I think we should run,” Max whispers to his husband. 

“No.”

“Babe, he has a toolbox!” Max hisses. “It has knives.”

“You must be joking if you think I didn’t come prepared,” David tells him quietly. “I have four knives in my person right now.”

Jesus fuck. 

What the fuck?

And why is that so fucking hot?

“What’s this?” Lance peeps inside the box. 

“This is my favourite dagger,” bapak smiles as he takes out a tiny dagger. “You can keep it.”

“Um,” David says. “We don’t give him sharp objects.”

Bapak throws him a glare and David shuts up.

“God knows how many birthdays I’ve missed,” bapak huffs as Lance inspects the dagger. “I need to catch up.”

“Papi gave me a train last year,” Lance informs and smiles at Alec. “It goes choo choo!”

Dad swallows. “I’ve never met this child in my life.”

“You and I will talk later,” bapak tells dad slowly. “You’ve been a bad boy, Alexander.”

“Gross,” Max groans and covers his son’s years. 

“Blueberry,” bapak points a finger at Max. “You are going to tell me everything. And there better be photos or there will be hell to pay.”

“I have loads,” Max says quickly and takes out his phone. 

“And you,” bapak glares at David. “Is it just two or are there more secret children I need to know about?”

“Um,” David says as dad slowly moves the toolbox away from bapak’s reach. “We have a cat?”

“YOU HAVE A WHAT?”

[luminousnotmatter]

Best Laid Plans

a heart day j. h. s. & birdy something

like real people do ‘verse

pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female OC, her nickname is Birdy. ☺️ She’s the same Birdy from this little thing I wrote back in the fall.

warnings: PG-13 swearings. It’s not hurt/comfort in the physical injury sense, but rather in the mental-emotional sense, and even that is just sorta kinda. Other than that….It’s stupidly soft and sweet?? I think that about covers it???

word count: 1,400ish or thereabouts.

summary: Jake has a sweet and adorable Valentine’s Day date night in mind for he and Birdy. But you know what they say about the best laid plans…

author’s note: I actually wrote this last night, originally for the eyes of a precious friend only….but then it sat lurking in my brain all day today, and I’m most pleased with and proud of it and maybe it’ll bring somebody else a little joy too so….here it is. 🥹🫣💞 It takes place in the same ‘universe’ (which I have dubbed Like Real People Do because it’s my favorite Hozier song and also it because said song feels so perfectly right for them.🥹🥰) as the above-mentioned thing I wrote this past fall, only it’s later on down the line for Jake and Birdy. They’ve done the Best Friends To Lovers Upgrade™️ by now. 😉🤭♥️ It is absolutely my intention to write out their story from the beginning, and I have so much of that story already simmering on the stovetop of my brain it’s silly no seriously please somebody anybody can you come and ask me about it sometime and it would make my whole life to yell happily about it with you but until such time as I have more details plotted out and am actually inspired to actually write it from the beginning: I’m gonna just take what inspiration I get and write these two adorables from wherever on their timeline I feel I wanna in the moment.

bonus material: This song is where the lyrics quoted in the mood board come from, and it’s one I’ve loved for a long time. 💞 It’s also on my in-progress playlist for Jay and Birdy. 🥰

tagging: My Katherine @whisperofsong (it’s her with whom initially shared this last night ☺️) and My Bee @bradshawsbaby and My Sunshine @hangmanbrainrot because….because! 😍🥰♥️♥️‼️ Because I wanna!!! And also because they are unspeakably dear friends to me, who always, always, a l w a y s have the most kind and encouraging words and love and support for my silly wordsmithery. 🥹😘♥️♥️♥️

…………………………………………

Birdy isn’t somebody who needs or desires big, over-extravagant romantic gestures. She’s a gentle, easygoing, sweet, and introverted soul. Her favorite place to be is with Jake, she loves him and time spent in his company is the most she asks, on Valentine’s Day or any day.

Jake understands that. Once upon a time, his ego may have told him it was necessary to do it up big for the woman (if any) he was with on Heart Day, to show up and show off and pull out as many stops as possible because how else was that woman going to know what he’s capable of if he wasn’t advertising the biggest and best possible version of himself at all times. And once upon a time, at that phase in his life, he would’ve believed his ego. But now, he knows better. He’s matured and he’s grown and he’s learned, and Birdy, their friendship and their love has been much of the impetus behind this learning and growth and maturation.

So, come their first Valentine’s Day together, he’s got his sweet little plans and not to shine his own shoes, but he’s pretty damn confident that they’re going to be just what’ll make her happiest. Her favorite tiny, old, hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant miraculously does UberEats, so that’ll be dinner taken care of. He’s going to stop by a florist on his way to her house and pick up a bouquet of white and yellow daisies because he knows there’s no flower she loves more. They’ll eat together and talk, he’ll hold her close and his fingers entwined with hers and kiss her sweet mouth and get to hear her laugh (which is up there near the top on the list of Jake Seresin’s Favorite Sounds, among other notables such as the roar of F/A-18 engines and kickoff at a UT Austin football game) and it’ll be a good night. She’ll be happy and he’ll be happy.

But the US Navy? The US Navy has different plans entirely. Unexpected, surprise plans that brutally and efficiently, through one thing happening, then another, and another, and you guessed it: still more things happening, ruin Jake’s plans for his Valentine’s night with Birdy. Leaves him trudging through her front door abysmally late in the evening, pissed off, exhausted, still clad in his flight suit, and smelling of jet fuel, sweat, and hot, dirty tarmac.

He’s not happy. Today was NOT meant to go this way.

Nonetheless, there’s his lady to greet him; rising to stand from her beloved oversized leather armchair in the living room while he bends to untie and toe off his boots by the welcome mat. Baloo is curled up on his bed next to her chair but he lifts his dark head and thumps his tail a few times, excited and pleased to see Jake.

“Stay, Loo.” Birdy murmurs to the dog and he obeys. Albeit with a soft whine of protest. “I know you wanna, but you can say hi in a second. I get to first.” Jake grins the tiniest grin to himself.

The Navyman straightens fully and the anxious and angry tightness in his chest eases a bit because his best friend in the world is looking at him, seeing him, and her eyes are soft and sparkling and safe and *home*.

“Hey, Flyboy.” her voice is a warm hum.

Jake reaches out for her and she doesn’t resist the way he hauls them together so their chests touch and his arms cage her in. He sighs deeply, in and out. “Hi, Little Bird.”

“How was your day?”

“Kinda shit.”

Birdy reaches up to take Jake’s cheeks in her hands, thumbs sweeping his cheek bones. Her brow is scrunched up, a sympathetic frown playing with her lips. “Yeah?”

He sighs again. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. Welcome home. I love you.”

Each of the woman’s statements are punctuated, emphasized, by a gentle kiss pressed to a different part of his face; right cheek, left cheek, then finally his mouth.

In tasting her lips, honeyed and soft, the pilot lets his shoulders start to release some of their tension. Neither of them hurry the moment, neither of them want to.

When he must break away for air, Jake rests his forehead to Birdy’s at first. “I love you.”

Those three words feel so right to say to her. They always have, even when it scared the hell out of him to say them. It doesn’t now though.

“Okay, Loo Buddy, you can come and say hi now.” Birdy’s twisting in his arms slightly to call the big black lab over to where they stand. Baloo needs no second invitation. He rises immediately and is by their side in seconds, whole body wriggling with happiness. Jake bends to give him plenty of pets and murmured verbal affection, while keeping one hand gripping Birdy’s hip loosely.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” she tells him, leaning close and kissing the only part of him her mouth can reasonably reach, his shoulder.

When he straightens once more, Jake’s gaze catches on two things on the kitchen table, over the woman in front of him. A paper bag with the UberEats logo on the front, and a bouquet of white and yellow daisies.

His heart sinks.

His face must fall too because Birdy’s sweet smile falters. “What?”

Jake jerks his chin in the direction of the table.

“That’s dinner. From Morelli’s.” she explains.

Of course she ordered that. He’d smirk in satisfaction at how well he knows her but the bitterness of disappointment in himself tastes too strong on his tongue.

“The flowers?”

Birdy grins. “My Daddy sent ‘em.”

She thinks her father’s gesture is cute and funny and sweet but Jake just nods. His green eyes drop from hers. She misses them instantly.

“Hey…Jay…” she squeezes his arms and ducks her head to try and meet his eyeline as it wanders. “What’s up?”

Jake closes his eyes. It’s not like he’s going to cry, hell no, but they still burn a little. He’s just wore out and pissed at his day and he hates that he couldn’t be the one to show Birdy he loves her with dinner and flowers.

“I…” he swallows and makes himself look in her eyes, grasping for that peaceful home feeling of them again. “I was gonna get’ya dinner. And flowers. That’s…that’s *my* job.”

“Your job?” she blinks at him.

He nods in affirmation. “It’s Valentine’s Day, y’know?” He shrugs.

Birdy’s expression melts into one of impossible tenderness, but there’s a steely seriousness lurking underneath. “Jake,” she breathes out. “Look at me, please?” He’d been studying some loose threads in the collar of her shirt, now he obeys her request. “You did your job already. You worked, hard, all day. You flew planes and kicked ass, damn, I mean, you had shit thrown at you that I can’t possibly imagine being able to handle, let alone, y’know, actually handling it. And now,” she cups his cheeks in her hands once again, “here you are, with me. How can I ask for more? Today or any day?” She drops her hands to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “You’re enough.” She’s smiling, her beautiful eyes bright and gaze unwavering, but the wrinkle between her brows betrays the depth of the feeling behind her words.

That tightness in his chest Jake had registered earlier, it’s no longer that of frustration or nerves fried to their last ending. Now that taut ache is one of overwhelming fondness, love and gratitude felt for the woman in his arms, on a level unmatched before he met and fell for her.

His wide, warm palms now lift to cradle her face and he moves in to capture her mouth with his own. The kiss is slow, gentle. Words, emotions from the depths of Jake’s heart are poured into it, unspoken, and he relishes being able to trust that she’s hearing them, understanding them.

Even so, Birdy deserves thing spoken out too. “Thank you, Darlin’.” His warm breath sweeps across the skin of her forehead, once they’ve broken apart, as the words leave his throat. Quiet, low, and ever-so-slightly husky.

She leaves one open-mouth kiss on his jaw, gooseflesh rolling over him in its wake. “Always, Seresin. Always.”

…………………………………………….

Jake Seresin knows that saying about the best laid plans of mice and men, and he’s not about to deny that his day today was a prime example of the truth of that saying….but 12 minutes later, when he and Birdy are seated at the table, eating and talking, and some stupid silly thing he says makes her laugh; eyes squeezing shut and her head thrown back…when that glorious, one-of-his-most-favorite-of-all-sounds rings out…….his plans never mattered much anyway. This does though. She does. With her: Happy Valentine’s Day is damn straight

[arabellaflynn]

Life updates or: "Where the hell have you been?"

Hello! I am not dead. I have at points wished I could just be in a coma until it stopped being hot out, but alas, we do not always get what we want. If you are one of my Patrons, you've been getting sporadic updates, but for the lay public, here's the rundown:

Bad news: Cheddar has left us. Obituary here on Instagram. I figured the respiratory problems would eventually get them both, but didn't expect it quite so soon. Cheese is still here, although he is a little lonesome. I am consoling him with pets and pudding.

Good news: I have yet another new job. Someone figured out I could work the sound board at one of the theaters and started paying me to do that. About 50% of the people who ask are also willing to pay me adult amounts of money for it. The adult amounts of money are enough that I can politely turn down the ones who think "exposure" is as good as a paycheck. I'm not going to be buying any superyachts anytime soon, but money has come in faster than I spend it. It's weird.

More good news: The COVID recovery grant I've been waiting on finally showed up. The grantors bit off a bit more than they could chew and kept sending us 'soz, handing out several million $$ in five grand increments is taking longer than we thought, plz stop calling us' emails. I had to borrow to keep myself afloat, but it's all paid back now and I'm confusingly solvent, at least for a while.

Yet more good news: I'm moving. Why is this good news, you ask? Because my current roommates suck. One moved out to shack up with his boyfriend and the replacement has a raging case of Main Character Syndrome. The married couple broke up and it turns out the one who moved out was adulting for both of them. I have been stuck floating the rent for one useless narcissist who doesn't think 'rent is due by the first' applies to him and one dysfunctional soon-to-be-divorcee who has no job and no income. I found a new place to park myself, the paperwork came back with all the rubber stamps today, I just emailed the same guys who moved me the last time to ask for another quote. 

Sorta bad news that might be okay?: All of my short-term and one-off performance proposals for the summer have been politely turned down. With the grant money in the bank I could technically sit on my ass for a month or two before I even had to start looking for more work, but I would die of boredom. Instead, I am signing myself up for a bunch of one-off classes and summer activities that I've always kind of wanted to take, but could never wedge into my schedule or budget, and once I get moved into my new place I'm going to start work on a sort of... video essay let's play thing? Final Fantasy II (the Japanese edition, not the SNES one) is an incredibly boring game, but it's boring for interesting historical reasons. I've been toying with doing a letsplay of the game with a fun rambly history lecture in the voiceover. I'll be able to get a goddamned air conditioner in the window of the new place, so there's no reason for me not to hole up in my room in between gigs and classes and just play video games for a while. 

As mentioned above, I'm pretty okay for right now, but if any of the anony-mice are inspired to help anyway, here is a list of things I intend to have Amazon dump directly onto the porch of the new house. The bed frame and sheets are the most important things; the previous occupant had a king-size mattress she didn't need, and rather than make anyone haul that thing down the stairs I'm just taking it over. (My current bedroom is small enough to violate the Geneva Convention. I have a twin in here now.) I'm going to enjoy being able to sprawl again without falling over the edge.

from Blogger https://ift.tt/FkM1KAl via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

[annieintheaair]

Hope

When I walked into my office this morning I was reminded of the quote I put on my felt letter board last year. It has been up ever since because it has been the inspiration to carry me through this last year and also, I can't remember where I put the bags of letters.

"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears."

Fear for me, right now, is staying here, praying, and hoping things get better, even if they don't. Hope, for me, is taking that leap of faith and moving on, looking forward to blue skies ahead.

I went to finish my apartment application last night and found that someone else had already applied for the unit I wanted. After scouring the website, I found another unit with a similar floorplan, and realized that maybe that one would actually be best for me-- top floor with no one above me, and a balcony with the perfect view of the 4th of July fireworks. Now, I'm just waiting to find out if I'll get it or not.

Yesterday, we had an unsuccessful broker's open house. My dog, Kirby, decided to wake me up early and vomit on my pillows so of course, I jumped out of bed and had to wash everything. I tried to take my pillows to the dry cleaner around the corner but they told me they don't do pillows. I am now even more convinced that the dry cleaner is a front for another "business".

Once I had most things under control, I loaded the dogs into the car and drove to my sister's house where I hung out for the afternoon. I took the dogs with me and walked them to pick up the older two girls from school.

By the time 5:30pm hit, I was exhausted and ready to go home. I had a calm night at home, drinking wine, eating dinner, and finishing my application for the apartment. If it's meant to be, I'll get it. If it's not meant to be, I'm trusting that God has other plans for me.

As much as I've been enjoying all of this time off, I decided last night that my work hours for the month were too low and I would need to pick up more trips. I picked up three more and I think I'm going to stop there. I really don't want to add any more hours to my schedule.

I've been wanting to go to this wine festival that's coming up for literally years. I never got to go when I lived nearby but mentioned it to Julie when we had brunch the other day and immediately she said she would go with me. We found out that if we volunteer, we can go for free (tickets for wine are like $40 and it's another $40 for food). Upon further research, Julie found that we could actually volunteer to set things up next Thursday during the day and then it would allow us to have all day Saturday for the festival. Even though I didn't really want to make an extra trip there on Thursday, I decided that it's probably worth it for the free tickets.

Since I picked up extra trips, I'll be flying tonight, tomorrow, and Friday. With only one night off -- Saturday, then I'll be flying again for four more nights in a row. I hate doing four in a row but until we get a contract and a raise, I feel like I'm going to need to fly more.

Prayers for my whole life are so needed right now. I'm just going along, trusting God that He has a better plan for my life than what I had imagined. I'm putting my faith in Him that He will lead me out of this storm.

My theme right now is hope. It's no wonder I picked the name Hope as my Confirmation Name. Saint Hope was known for her strong trust in the Lord and hope for a better future. I guess younger me knew something after all.

xoxo

Annie

[eregyrn-falls]

I am just now realizing the carnival in the Stan twin kids comic is based off a real area called Asbury Park

(ffffffffuuuuccc... I got a long ways into an answer and it disappeared. Let's try this again!)

OKAY. Sorry, Anon, you get the info-dump!

I think that the Carnival in the Lost Legends comic is likely not based on a standing attraction, but rather on the kind of seasonal carnivals that would visit resort towns in the summer. The Freak Show is set up in a tent, and doesn't seem like a permanent attraction to me.

Overall, I think that Glass Shard Beach is a combination of several different resort towns along the NJ and MD shore. I don't think it's actually based on one in particular, but borrows elements from several. Alex Hirsch commented, I think, on going to Ocean City, MD when he was a kid? (That’s my recollection, although I can’t find a quote right now?) I'm not sure whether any of the board artists or background artists may have had their own memories of particular Jersey shore towns; or whether they were just googling for references and came up with a grab-bag.

But let's go over the probable inspirations for Glass Shard Beach!

First, a visual reminder:

So, Glass Shard Beach has an amusement pier that sticks out into the ocean, perpendicular to the beach.  I... am not really sure what’s going on with the lighthouse.

See, from Asbury Park on south, all of the barrier islands / resort towns are flat as a pancake.  But GSB has always had hill and cliff elements to it -- like the cave in which they find the Stan o’ War, or the cliff shown in the comic.  And the lighthouse is clearly sitting up on a hill (it’s not ON the pier, but  beyond it).  If that is found anywhere along the Jersey shore, it would be to in the north. (I’ll get to that more soon.)

I have to read this as the shoreline curving out to the north beyond the pier, and the lighthouse is located up there.

Anyway.  On to the contenders!

Asbury Park, NJ:

Asbury Park does have an amusement park along the beach/boardwalk, but not on the pier sticking out into the ocean.  That is occupied by a building, the Pavilion.

Seaside Heights, NJ:

South of Asbury Park, this is the one with the big amusement pier, Casino Pier, that sticks out into the ocean:

The pier is shorter in the final pic (and I don’t know if the ferris wheel has actually been turned 90 degrees, or if that’s a trick of the angles in other photography), because Superstorm Sandy did a number on this pier a few years ago. You might have seen some of the photos of the wreckage of the roller-coaster, as it was very photogenic.

Wildwood, NJ:

ALSO has a big amusement pier that sticks way out (if not actually into the water; I don’t know, maybe when the tide is higher?), with the big ferris wheel providing a focal point.

Another thing people often point to for Wildwood is the famous Haunted House:

And even more tellingly, the Dante’s Dungeon attraction on Morey Pier:

Compare in the Lost Legends comic:

Ocean City, MD:

It’s not really the same kind of “sticks out into the ocean” amusement pier.  But, the boardwalk in Ocean City MD does have its own famous Haunted House attraction:

Here’s a look at how all of these relate to each other:

(Seaside Heights is located on the coast due east of Toms River. And, not pictured, Ocean City MD to the south, across Delaware Bay.)

I can understand why some folks want to point to the ultra-kitschy resort towns like Wildwood as a “location” for Glass Shard Beach.  Me, I’ve always figured it was located in the north -- possibly north of Asbury Park. 

First, because of the discussion above about how you can’t get cliffs on the barrier islands in the south.  And second, because of the strong north-NJ/New Yorker accents of Ma and Pa Pines, and Stan.  Once you get south of around Toms River, that accent really starts to fade.  Long Beach Island, in the middle there (marked Beach Haven) is the dividing line between where New Yorkers came for the summer, and where Philadelphians came.  So because of the Pines’ accent, I figured they must be from the north.

But Glass Shard Beach definitely has to be on a barrier island, because:

This COULD be a sunrise.  But:

If this is a sunset (which it has to be), then their swing-set must be on a playground located on the bay, not the ocean.  To get a sunset over the water in NJ, you’ve got to be on one of those barrier island bays. (The dock with the Stan o’ War makes more sense on the bay, as well.)

Anyway, we’re getting kind of far afield of the original ask, there!  But yeah -- I don’t think the Carnival in Lost Legends was based on a specific attraction in a specific town.  I think it was based more on the vibes a lot of the boardwalk-town resorts had.  But I DO think the Wildwood Dante’s Dungeon inspired the HELL attraction!

[dmclemblems]

@garlandgerard said: it’s so shitty, especially because he thrives so much as an anti-empire unit

you mean Caspar (asking bc I mentioned Ferdie too in that post)? tbh there’s a point for me where like... I can understand Caspar wanting to protect his home, but I think it’s really odd because in Houses, he expresses not liking what Edelgard is doing in every route except CF, where he’s basically “no thoughts, just punch”. he basically ended up like that in this game.

plus I also think it’s really weird that he’d die for... like, I don’t even know at this point, because by the time you fight him for the second time it’s basically Thales in power. he didn’t really even die for Edelgard like he seemed to think he did, and I’m not sure why his father or anyone else would keep it from him that she’s not the one they’re fighting and risking dying for. in Hopes he seems to be fighting for her based on his death quote (which is like, Edelgard, I did all I could), but that makes me question it both for those reasons. not only is she not in power and all the higher ups are aware that it’s been Ludwig and Thales pulling the strings, but he didn’t really seem to agree with her in Houses either.

also, he was covering for Ludwig’s escape in the second chapter you fight him in, so Caspar was literally fighting to protect and defend Ludwig. that part baffles me, because it’s been going around the Empire how he’s the one in power now, right? so like... Caspar wanted to fight for Edelgard so he fought... the Kingdom/Alliance/Church? and not... Ludwig and Thales, who were using Edelgard as a puppet by then? it doesn’t make sense unless he’s just fighting with totally blind loyalty and fighting for just whoever is in charge of the Empire.

I think for both Caspar and Ferdinand it’s really odd. even in SB, Ferdinand isn’t on board with what his father is doing and literally kills the man himself, with his own hands, and insists on it. in AG he goes MIA after his father takes power. I guess he just... stopped fighting? if nothing else that would be more reasonable though because there was no reason to keep fighting the war. he would only be fighting for Thales and his father, the latter who he didn’t agree with anyway. in Houses he’s I guess a little closer to his father, and also Ludwig doesn’t do anything as wretched as in this game, but in this game it seems like Ferdinand just kinda dipped when the Empire started having power issues.

in Houses they made Caspar more inspired by justice and doing what he felt was right, so I definitely think he got the short end of the stick in this game. it’s sad because I know they were capable of a lot better. Lorenz, Sylvain and Felix, for instance made out way better in this game imo than how they were written in Houses, but Caspar is just like... fighting with no real loyalty in AG (and by extension based on his personality/attitude in this game I guess really all the routes).

Caspar is definitely one of the people I was sadder about in this game because his blind loyalty was... really blind. like yeah, sure, if someone attacked my home I would be pissed too and want to fight back, but... the real targets at that point that the collective armies had were Thales. Dimitri also mentions how that’s their real enemy and all that stuff. before that, yeah, they were trying to end the war by attacking first, but by the time you fight Caspar that’s no longer the case and they’re all aware that Ludwig is running the show under Thales who is really running the show.

[americangirlstar]

World By Us Quotes

I know when we make aesthetics/art pieces, we like to have little quotes from the books below it! Here’s some quotes for the WBU girls– if it’s not said by them specifically, I put who said it at the end in [brackets], and if it’s not from their main book, I made a note in italics at the beginning.

Makena Williams

As I sorted through the new items on the bed, I wondered what kind of statement I wanted to make. I was going to have fun figuring it out!

As I looked at the outfit now, I realized it still needed... something. I closed my eyes and focused on how I was feeling. I was nervous, but excited, too, like something I had been waiting for was finally about to begin.

I added three gold butterfly hair clips to my twists. Butterflies are a symbol of transformation, and I knew today would be full of big changes. When I tilted my head, the butterflies looked like they were taking off.

On my way to the gym, I passed the big mural again. We Walk Together. I smiled, knowing that I had just met two new friends to walk with.

I have four names: Makena means “happy one” in Swahili; Lilias was my dad’s mom, who died when he was a boy; Cook, for Mom’s family, and Williams. They all matter, and they make me who I am.

“Fashion can be a form of activism. And I wouldn’t be surprised if one day that was your purpose.” [said by her mother]

I want to live in a world where who you are inside matters more than what you look like outside.

I rolled over and pressed the pillow around my ears, but Mom’s question was like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. Couldn’t he see that they’re children? Couldn’t he see? No, Mom! I wanted to scream. That’s the problem. He couldn’t see that we’re real people, with real names and lives and feelings. All he could see was that we’re Black. I cried sad and mad tears, because none of it made any sense.

I’m so much more than what you see / Don’t guess- ASK about all the feels inside me / Get to know who I am for real / Then maybe this world can start to heal / See me, hear me, know me!

My name is Makena Williams. Something happened to me, and I am not okay.

I am a person. See me for who I am. Hear what I say. Get to know me before you make up something about me. Judge me by my words and actions, not my race. See me. Hear me. Know me.

Do you see us now? We’re girls. We’re your neighbors.

I ran my fingers across the letters. There was my idea, my first design, in real life. I was so proud.

My eyes went back to Auntie Bling’s word power. Maybe I could give other people the power to tell their own stories. What if kids could show and tell the world who they really are, how they really feel, in any style they chose?

I’m Makena. I’m proud that my family’s roots in Anacostia go back four generations. I came up with the words on my T-shirt because people weren’t seeing the real me. They were only seeing that I was Black– if they saw me at all. I love West African kente cloth because the colors and patterns tell stories. The green in this skirt signifies renewal. I like wearing butterflies because they remind me that though change can be difficult, it can lead to something beautiful. With my fashion, I am always making a statement.

When everyone had made their statements, we all gathered onstage for a bow. The audience was on its feet, clapping and cheering for us. All the other kids hopped off the stage and started mingling. I stood there, watching adults talking to kid and kids from different communities talking to each other. Seeing so many people come together was powerful.

I believe that when you take time to get to know people, you get to see who they truly are.

I was so proud of what we’d done that I couldn’t stop grinning. Just before I went to join my friends and family, I glimpsed my own reflection in the window. It looked as if the river was flowing right through me. Maybe it does, I thought, along with the strength of my ancestors, and the bravery of Black people before and the bravery of everyone in this room who works for change.

Evette Peeters

When we made the sign last year, I painted a monarch butterfly above the words. Monarchs fly thousands of miles. Their strength and endurance remind me of the people who were on the front lines during the pandemic.

The one good thing about not going anywhere was seeing the gardens change. I never knew it could be fun to watch plants grow, but it actually was.

The bridge was coming up. Pretty soon, we’d be crossing the Anacostia. I’d been crossing that river all my life on the way to Gran E’s house. Every time I saw it, the river looked different. Sometimes the waves were rough, but today they were calm. The sunlight made the pale green water sparkle.

Why did people think skin color defines who we are? It seemed so simple: humans come in different colors, just like flowers.

I put them on and hung my heart necklace on my jewelry tree. Next to it was a locket that had an umoja symbol on it. Umoja means “unity” in the Swahili language. Gran E had given me the locket for Kwanzaa last year, along with a card that said, “Promise always to see umoja: unity in the family, community, nation and race.”

Still, I couldn’t help wondering, Is this how a rift gets started? Something goes wrong between people, and before you know it, there’s a rift between them. Was that how it happened with my grandmothers? And the most important question of all: Could a rift between people be repaired?

The grass was trampled, but seeing the riverbank free of litter lifted my heart.

With a day of hard work, we had healed part of the river. If only it could be this easy for my grandmothers to heal the rift between them.

“A world– by us,” I announced, writing it on a piece of poster board. I looked up at my friends. Somehow when I was with them, anything seemed possible. “That’s what we’ll call it– and that’s what we’ll make it.”

What I’m trying to tell you is not to judge a whole person for one thing they said or did. People can change and learn from their mistakes.

Well, we are one family. So we should all act like it, right?

I know the world has many problems, just as there are many kinds of pollution in the river. But with the sunshine and the music and good friends beside me, I felt a wave of hope rise in my chest. As long as we can imagine a better world, we can make it happen. When people come together, we can do remarkable things. The river taught me that.

Maritza Ochoa

from Makena’s Story: Well, we don’t need to wait until we grow up to make a difference. We can start now, making the kind of world we want to live in. 

At school, the girls always play with the boys. The girls are tougher than you think.

Before she passed away, I received a beautiful journal from her in the mail. Inside, she had written inspirational quotes from famous women athletes and leaders. On a note enclosed with the journal, she had written that I should add more inspirational quotes to the journal, because keeping a positive attitude was important when life becomes hard. I had to admit, it was hard to be positive during that time.

I stared down at the salteñas, thinking of what my abuelo said. Prayers weren’t enough, but sometimes prayers are all you have. Was there something more I could do?

The title of the piece was Tu lucha es mi lucha, which means “your fight is my fight.”

Remember, we’re young. Nobody expects us to be leaders, so we must expect it from ourselves.

There was incredible history here, and yet... so much more history to be made.

“She needs me to be her friend,” I replied. And as soon as I said those words, I felt them in my heart.

In soccer, if we see something wrong, we call it out so it can be fixed. I see something wrong, and I want to help.

Tu luca es mi lucha. I will lead with my heart and find a way to help your family.

We don’t just want to talk about injustice. We want to do something about it.

It was as if Tia Mari knew that someday I’d need this quote. Maybe I’m more like her than I even imagined.

All of us are united in our love for soccer, but we are also united in another cause that we want to share with you. Soccer has taught me many things, but most important it has taught me to be a team player and to be vocal if I see something wrong. This past week, I saw something wrong and I want to bring it to everyone’s attention.

If you were here, I would tell you what an inspiration you are to me. I miss you, Tia. I know I’ll always miss you and that’s okay. It will be an extra part of me that will make me stronger and kinder.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Inside “The Pact”

Hello! For those of you that followed along with The Pact, I received a few questions and requests to get an inside look. I’ll link the post here that explains a bit more about what this is gonna be about. 

We’re gonna break this down into sections: first will be answering your questions about The Pact & the characters. Then I’ll show you guys a little about my notes & decision making process (which is very obscure because I just tend to keep a hypothetical tab open in my brain most of the time lol) as well as some pictures of my ideas!! 

Thanks for requesting such a fun thing to do now that this series is over. It’s been fun to look back!

Q. What song did the boys dedicate to y/n?

A. “Her” || This is a sad song, but I felt like it fit so well with how the boys had to hide a part of themselves (their feelings) away for the sake of the pact!

--

Q. Did the boys get mad/how did the boys react to Jungkook’s kiss?

A. Jungkook was a little shocked, and felt extremely guilty on the drive back home. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to tell his hyungs, but he also knew he couldn’t lie to them. Naturally, the second he walked in the house and everyone saw his face, they knew. It was just quiet, everybody was a little hesitant to say anything/bring it up because they were all upset. Only Jimin has heard all of the details of JK’s kiss, whereas the others are simply aware that he kissed her and that’s that.

Namjoon was the most upset, although he didn’t say anything. He just sat there on the couch and did the jaw-clenching thing he always does. Yoongi just tried to change the subject and ask about other aspects of the date. Taehyung was actually pretty pissed, especially because he’d been so good about refraining from kissing you even when you’d asked for it. Hobi had a chat with him later that night and calmed him down. Jin wasn’t angry so much as he was worried that he missed his shot & couldn’t stop replaying his date in his head.

--

Q. Who fell for y/n last?

A. Namjoon. He’d had a little crush, and that’s why he was willing to go along with the pact. But it hit a point less than a year ago when he fell hard and fast. (you called him in the middle of the night when he was on tour and he realized that your sleepy voice is possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard) The boys noticed and as a result teased him endlessly about it, because he doesn’t quite know how to navigate his feelings. 

--

Q. Who did the boys bet on? (We already know that Jimin bet on Yoongi and won lol)

A. Namjoon bet on JK, Tae bet on Hobi, Hobi bet on JK, Jin bet on JK, and Yoongi bet on Jin, and JK bet on Namjoon (because we all know JK would pick Namjoon lol)

--

Q. Didn’t y/n ever date other guys? How did the boys react?

A. hahaha ok I actually would have such a fun time writing this Yes, she dated around a bit. For the first year of the pact, she had an on again, off again bf. It wasn’t very serious, and she always made that clear to the boys. They still hated the dude. After they broke up, she only went on a few dates here and there. Didn’t really seriously date. (except for that one time she went on vacation and had a fling, but everyone has decided to forget that) They just smiled and supported her, although Tae was always very clear that he didn’t like any of the guys she dated. 

--

Q. In Namjoon’s date, who was the 1950′s author mentioned?

A. Agatha Christie, the queen. 

--

Q. How did y/n meet Jimin? (he was the one that introduced her to the rest of the group)

A. She was a PR intern for Lee Hyun. Jimin and Lee Hyun are close, and they crossed paths fairly often until Jimin decided to invite her to hang out. 

--

Q. What is y/n studying in school?

A. Public Relations (which will honestly come in handy with her new relationship lol)

--

Q. Where was Jin in the last chapter when y/n came to the studio?

A. Agh how could you ask me this and bring back all that pain?! Jin was at his brother’s restaurant for some much needed R&R. He ended up staying the night with him, not wanting to go home just yet and have to face his decision.

--

Q. Who would you personally choose to end up with and why?

A. KIM SEOKJIN. Date #5 was basically for me lol. Like, unapologetically wrote that for myself. Not just because he’s my bias, but because I personally felt like I could picture myself chilling on that couch watching Dateline with him. And it was beautiful. 🤧 Also, while Jin can be loud and goofy, he’s an introvert. I’m an extravert with introverted tendencies, so I just feel like his date would have been the most comfortable for me.

--

CREATING THE PACT - AN INSIDE LOOK AT MY NOTES

First thing’s first, I have an on-going page in my notes on my phone which is FILLED with ideas & half-formed thoughts. Before I began writing The Pact (or even Spooked, for that matter), this happened:

So you can see that I had no idea what I was doing lol, but I thought that it would be cool. Mainly I wanted an excuse to write OT7 and display all the members in a sweet light. Also, we see that not all of these actually made it into the series. (Tae w/ the family)

BUT THEN, “SPOOKED” HAPPENED, AND A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY POPPED UP 

ngl, I cracked up when I looked back at my notes and saw this. 

“Sweet Gloria what am I doing to myself” 😂😂 this was when I was pushing “Lost & Found” out and planning for Taehyung’s series (which is why so much is blocked out on my notes, because it’s riddled with spoilers lol) so I literally had no idea why I was jumping into another project as I was already super busy. That’s why I scheduled it for just Saturday’s! (and also why I sometimes posted super late at night lol)

As you can see, Seokjinnie’s date was literally always on my mind. From the very beginning. Which is odd, considering the fact that he didn’t end up being endgame. wow it’s like he’s my bias or something

Occasionally I’d take breaks from hw and work on getting to know how the boys were with y/n. Quotes and poetry serve as a great source of inspiration, and I assigned a quote to each member. (notice the little stars by Jin, Yoongi’s and JK’s names lol, they were my top three as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now)

There were a couple of things that I didn’t think of adding until I was reading through your theories and got an idea of what you needed to push the series in the right decision. i.e. bringing Gina back to explain that she closed the door in Spooked. 

I have a whiteboard in my room that I use to map out what I need to do that week for whatever series I’m working on (as well as jot down ideas for new series, which I why this photo doesn’t show the whole board haha) 

So here’s a peek at my thought process for writing about how the pact was formed. Sorry if you can’t read it haha

NOW, the last few questions you guys had:

Q. Did you ever change your mind while writing the pact?

A. Yes! I actually originally intended for Hobi to have written the note. It fit very well with how angry he was at first and how worried he was during the date. But by the time I'd gotten to Jin’s date I kinda knew that he wouldn’t be that petty but Jin would haha

I also planned on Yoongi kissing y/n on their date. It was supposed to be on a rooftop somewhere, which we know didn’t happen. In fact, I didn’t really intend for their date to be so disastrous until I was coming closer to having to write it. I think I was a mess, so the date was a mess lol

I had no idea what I was doing for Tae’s date until I wrote it, all I knew was that there had to be a museum. The rest I just made up as I wrote and hoped that it made sense. (also, for some reason I hated the museum portion of the date. Idk why, but it just felt so stark to me. still don’t like it lol)

Q. When did you know how it was going to end? 

A. That’s a....difficult question lol. Honestly, I thought of just doing an audio recording and uploading it because it I didn’t really know how to put it into words, but then I realized that most people probably wouldn’t wanna listen to that lol. So here we are. 

I had the ending scene in mind before The Pact even became a thing. I knew I had a series that I wanted to end with baking cookies. (weird, I know.) It didn’t exactly go how I planned, but I remember having the thought while writing Spooked (when I thought I was just writing a one shot) that it would be nice for y/n to be with Yoongi. I just instantly felt like they had a connection, when he was the first one she went toward. From then on out, I always kinda kept Yoongi in the background. 

I had a crisis about halfway through (right before Jin’s date) when there were a bunch of people rooting for Tae, because he hadn’t even been on my radar. But then Jin’s date went much better than I thought it was going to/received better, so I think that got me back on track. 

But from the beginning, Yoongi was #1. (I wrote this in the back of my Career’s notebook lol) when I was trying to figure out for myself who wrote the pact. 

So yeah! There you have it! Just an FYI, I had to physically restrain myself from throwing caution to the wind and making Jin endgame. Especially when so many of you were on board. :( However, the survey helped because Yoongi was the majority of votes (closely followed by Jin & JK) and that showed me that we were still on the right track! 

Ngl, my brain stopped working around Wednesday of last week, so writing the finale took FOREVER because nothing would compute. But I’m so happy you guys enjoyed it and reached out to me about it! This really is like a part-time job most days, and I really felt like this series paid off. 

Hopefully I covered everything! To end, here's the most satisfying part of every project for me:

Thanks guys!

[liquid-luck-00]

Siblings

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 3: Siblings

@biodad-bruce-month

First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari had agreed to go to Gotham after Gina, Tom, and Sabine's funeral. And now I am sweating bullets, not for how she will react, oh no I am far more worried about how the boys will. Maybe having a civilian in the manor will curb some of their unsavory habits.

When I asked Mari and she agreed I could tell this was going to be eventful. She asked if she had any siblings.

"Biologically, legally, or emotionally?" I responded completely serious, "There is a difference."

She thought for a moment before saying "Legally because I already know I have a biological brother" she stated with a smile.

"How did you know that?" he asked her.

"DNA testing project for an ethnicity and ancestor report." Marinette said casually, "So how many siblings legally?" she pushed.

He sighed "Seven but it might as well be eleven with how often Barbara, Stephanie, Jon, and Roy are at the mansion."

"Can you tell me a bit about them. Maybe even the measurements!"

After he had given enough information to spur her creativity, Mari could only be described as a tempest of creative energy.

By the time we were to board the jet to Gotham there was a suitcase filled with only gifts, he had lost count after the sixth gift, but she still added some more. By the time they landed she had a rough idea of what she was getting herself into.

To his shock the boys hadn't tried to figure out where he was and that in itself was a blessing. The boys knew that she existed but were never interested in finding her and to quote Jason 'Save her from the insanity that surrounds this family.' Yet he was about to change that.

He had told Alfred that someone would be staying in the manor but to only leave a car at the airport and he would drive them in. Thank god at least one person listens to him.

The ride to the manor was silent conversation wise. But the constant scratching of a pencil as Mari designed inspired by Gotham's architecture filled the quiet.

---

Before leaving Paris, Mari found out she has seven siblings, 1 biological and 6 adoptive and 4 practically siblings, she will have to figure that part out. Bruce told her all about them and got her their measurements and that includes the one of Bruce's butler/father figure and his fiancée Selina. So in one suitcase there were 13 individually wrapped gifts that even Bruce didn't know what they were. The Miracle box, disguised as a sewing caddy, was among her things, but the horse miraculous and Kaalki were in her purse along with Tikki.

Oh kwamii how am I going to keep this secret if I’m going to be in another country along with being in a house with more than a dozen other people.

Once touching down in Gotham she began sketching, one because she was nervous and two Gotham's architecture was gorgeous. She didn't even realize that they had arrived at the manor until the engine cut.

"Let's introduce you to everyone" Bruce stated with a sigh and a small smile. They left the bags in the car and walked up the steps. As they neared the door they heard it.

"Get back here Todd" one extremely angry voice sounded.

"Dick HELP ME" another voice yelled.

They opened the door and there was quite the scene. Who she believes is Damian is chasing, who she is mostly sure is Jason, with a... is that a katana? And who she is certain must be Dick is trying and failing to stop Damian. In fact he is now also being chased. She looks over and Bruce is sighing looking completely done and with someone next to him.

"Hello and welcome to Wayne Manor." the man states, Alfred if she had to guess.

"Hello Alfred I presume” Mari greets him.

“That would be correct Miss…” Alfred responds.

“Marinette. Um this normal?" Mari asks.

"Unfortunately” Bruce states in a resigned tone.

"Huh" is all she says as she formulates a plan. The boys haven't noticed them yet so that is a plus, but what to do. Then she got an idea so she sprang into action. She watched for any pattern in the chase and when she found one she hid. She was next to the stairs in the perfect position to pounce. By this time Bruce and Alfred were watching her curious to what she was planning. She never left her hiding spot, but when Damian paused to look for Dick and Jason near her she moved. She took the katana and replaced it with a bouquet of flowers and went back to standing between Bruce and Alfred still holding the blade.

"How did you?" Bruce questioned her but she just gave him a smirk and spoke loud enough to get not only Damian’s attention but Dick and Jason’s who were hiding behind the couch.

"I thought you didn't tell them I was coming and here is Damian with flowers. Or wait who is the lucky person?" This got everyone's attention in the manor, if it wasn’t already.

“What the?" Damian stared at the flowers in his hand, while Dick and Jason came out of hiding.

The three boys were looking between her, holding the katana Damian was previously chasing them with, and the flowers in Damians hand. Then they began to stare between her and Bruce before finally someone spoke, "Seriously Bruce another one" Jason, yup definitely Jason, was the first to respond.

"Nice to meet you too" Mari replied. When she looked at Bruce he was still in shock but was now sporting a smirk. "Jason right"

She was holding the katana in her left hand while pointing at Jason with her right hand, he was tall and his build was most like Bruce he had blue eyes and black hair but had a white streak in the front, he nodded acknowledging she was right.

She then continued "I'm going with Dick, right?" she moved on and the oldest, who again only nodded his head, he looked the most like Bruce with his black hair and blue eyes but he was leaner.

"And your Damian" she finished with those in the room, he had tanned skin and green eyes that were complemented by his black hair.

"Is that my katana?" Damian asked, his voice seemed to be a mixture of disbelief, anger, and dare she even say awe, and all eyes seemed to focus on the blade in her hand.

"Yes" She responds with a smile.

"Honestly Mari how did you do that?" Bruce asked her once again.

"You learn to take objects off of an Akuma if you get caught up in too many attacks." she shrugged. She moved towards Damian and handed back his sword. "I'm Marinette by the way."

"Seriously B your missing for two weeks with no notice and come back with your Daughter. Who I might add was able to take Demon spawns sword without him noticing. Why wouldn't you warn us you were coming back with her! Or I don’t know going to find her at all!” Another person walked out into the hallway. Honestly he seemed ready to fall asleep and was holding a huge cup of coffee, he then turned towards me. He also had blue eyes and black hair but it was the longest of the boys. "I'm Tim, nice to finally meet you" he stated with a smile before turning back to Bruce with a slight frown.

At Tim's appearance and statement Jason and Dick burst into confused screams and wild gestures in Dick’s case, while Damian stood there analyzing her before giving a nod of his head. Bruce looked done but it was Alfred who spoke. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss this over lunch along with everyone else?"

"That would be best. Thank you Alfred." Bruce responded. "In the meantime why don't we you get settled."

With that Bruce and her walked back to the car to get her bags. Jason and Dick followed them out, and helped to get her things. Alfred led the five to a room where she began to put things away, only Jason stayed to help her finish her task.

---

The day had started as normally as any other in Wayne Manor, but no one, and I mean no one was ready for this tiny little french teen with the biggest blue eyes to get the drop on any of them. Let alone be able to take Demon Spawns sword without him noticing.

To say Jason was intrigued was an understatement. Seriously how did she do that, because he sure as hell isn't believing that excuse, like what the hell is an akuma attack. Bruce, Dick, and I helped her bring her bags into the room Alfred prepared. He was the only one who stayed to help her. One because if she could get the drop on the Demon then he had to win her over as a pranking ally. Two she was his sister now and he isn't as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

While helping her set up her room he found it, it was a suitcase filled with wrapped boxes. Now if she is my sister then let the blackmail material begin, but not without some teasing thrown into the mix.

"What's with the presents in the case Bluebell," Jason asked, throwing in a nickname to see if Marinette would have any type of a reaction. Because who packs presents unless it was a distraction or trying to hide something.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said with a smirk and heat tilt. Well not the reaction he had hoped for.

"So what was that thing you said archery attack was it?" this got a reaction, but not one he was expecting.

"You don't know about the akuma attacks?" she was a mix of fear and surprise and he was unsure how he was supposed to react to that. Lucky for him as he was about to speak Tim and Dick came in and told them lunch was ready.

---

Jason not knowing about akuma attacks was odd and she didn't know how to react to his question. He was about to respond but Dick and Tim came in, and told them lunch was ready. They walked into the dinning room and inside were too many faces. She recognized Bruce and Damian. Tim, Dick, and Jason walked in with her.

"We're here" Dick dramatically announced, and all of a sudden all eyes were on her.

"OMG she is so cute!" a blonde yelled "Are we sure she is yours Bruce."

"Yes Stephanie. I am sure" Bruce answered almost amused. "Why don't you introduce yourself before you suffocate her."

"Ya, Ya," she waved him off "I'm Stephanie Brown" she stated as she continued to hug her.

The introductions included Stephanie, Cassandra or she said Cass, Duke, Roy, Barbara, Selina, and Jon. During lunch they asked her about herself she stayed in the realm of civilian, but Jason again brought up the akuma attacks so she explained a bit about the Paris situation and referred to them to Aurore's blog 'BugOut'.

She figured out the meaning of her practically siblings

Jon was Damian's best friend as Roy was Jason's because of this they spent large amounts of time with the family . The blonde who tackled her, Stephanie, was dating Tim and Barbara was a close family friend to everyone.

Afterwards she ended up giving everyone their gifts and Damian challenged her to a spar. The fact that no one, except Bruce having a partial reason, had any idea why she could hold her own was priceless. Seriously everyone's jaw was on the floor and Bruce looked like he was plotting something but it seemed to quickly leave his thoughts. All in all it was a good first day with her new family.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky

[actlikeyoudidntdoit]

ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

—————————————————

ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

[ickle-ronniekins]

it was all yellow

request from nonnie!!! “hi love, wanted to throw out this request before camping ;u; only if you're up for it, for either of the twins: i'd love something fluffy inspired by one of my favorite text posts on this site: she guessed my favorite color first try.. but between me and u.. i didnt even have a favorite color until she yelled out yellow! she was hella excited n smiling like a little kid, so i told her she was right and i havent seen yellow the same since, its in everything. i could probably live in it now. 🌻”

pairing: fred x hufflepuff!reader

word count: 3k

A/N: love me a good cheeky fred. also this prompt was FUCKING adorable and i did try to incorporate the actual quote into my writing but some of it didn’t flow.. so i hope it’s still as good as you’d imagined?? also def listened to coldplay’s “yellow” whilst writing this x

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic | message me to be added, loves!

“Mr. Weasley!”

Umbridge’s voice is shrill, and it immediately pulls Fred out of his daydream-like state, but not quickly enough for him to turn his attention toward his professor and avoid making incredibly embarrassing eye contact with you. The entire class, much to his dismay, turns to glance at him -- you included. It’s unlike him to feel so insecure, so embarrassed, but alas -- here he is.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Is there a reason,” Umbridge hisses, the edges of her lips curling into a rather evil smirk, “that you’ve chosen to completely ignore me during the lesson?”

Fred considers this for a moment. He could take this opportunity to explain to his professor that yes, now that you mention is, there is a reason. A huge reason. He could then proceed to tell you about all of the overwhelming feelings that have seemed to take over him the last few weeks. It could be a grand gesture, couldn’t it? Scooping you up into his arms, sliding a hand around the back of your neck, telling you just exactly what keeps him up at night -- that adorable smile of yours, and the pineapple scent in your hair. It’d be all the castle would be able to talk about, wouldn’t it? Plus, to be able to ignore Umbridge even more and do something so utterly abysmal in the middle of her lesson and have the rest of the students cheer him on, well -- it’s something Fred’s always dreamt of.

“I’d love to see the look on Umbridge’s face if I ever chose to cause mayhem in the middle of one of her lessons,”

“Easy there, Freddie. Don’t want to go getting any more detentions, do we?”

“Darling, mischief is my middle name. I need to prank. My life depends on it.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it? Just trying to look out for you, is all.”

“You’ve really got that Hufflepuff stereotype of ‘loyal’ down -- you know that, right?”

He supposes, when he thinks about it now, that you were right. You’re always right. He reckons it wouldn’t be such a good thing to cause such an uproar, especially since Umbridge is nearly always on his tail, and is one step closer to knocking Dumbledore out of his post as Headmaster. Fred doesn’t want to give her any more of an edge, does he?

Next to him, George brings Fred back, yet again, from another daydream with a quick kick to his knee. He grips the desk tightly and hopes that his face isn’t flushing bright red. Umbridge’s smirk grows even deeper, and Fred, ignoring his instincts to grab you and run out of the lesson right this instant, merely clears his throat. “No. There isn’t.”

“Good,” Umbridge hisses again, turning her attention back toward the board. “Now, to continue..” Fred relaxes a bit and slumps in his seat, feeling rather grumpy, but his spirits lift almost immediately, and his insides seemingly twist into a tight knot when you send him a soft smile from across the room.

-- -

Fred is shaken awake, only to be face to face with a very cheeky looking George, who then proceeds to throw a notebook straight into Fred’s cheek.

“Oi!” Fred shouts, coming to, bringing his hand to his jaw. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You do realize it’s the middle of the day and you’ve fallen asleep directly in the middle of the courtyard, yes?”

Fred kicks the younger twin with his foot, and George and Lee begin to laugh. Fred had been having quite a lovely sleep, thank you very much, and is now annoyed that his brother and friend had chosen to wake him. As he sits up from the bench, adjusting his loose tie and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Lee offers, “You talk a hell of a lot in your sleep, mate.”

Much to his horror, Fred freezes. This whole talking-in-his-sleep thing is relatively new -- he’d never, ever done that before. It seemed to have happened to him a couple of weeks ago, when he began repeating the days’ events -- ones that included you -- over and over in his mind before falling into a peaceful, and rather deep, slumber. It seemed to have happened when he started to look at you in a new light.

“And what exactly was I saying?” Fred asks, trying to shrug off his nervousness.

George and Lee both suppress a laugh and share a cheeky exchange, and Fred feels his heart leap into his throat. “Oh, you know.. mumbling on about lessons, and things. Bits of parchment you need to finish. Normal musings.”

Fred sighs rather dramatically before relaxing again. He hates this whole being-on-edge thing that comes with having a massive, over-the-top crush on you. “Oh,” George continues, his grin only growing larger, “and something about Y/N being the colour of sunshine, or something?”

As Fred’s eyes widen with embarrassment, George and Lee’s laughter only seems to grow louder and it echoes across the courtyard. This grabs your attention from across the way, and you smirk at Fred. You seem to be working on a bit of homework -- you’re leant against a large tree with your bag and robe next to you on the ground. Your hair is pulled back and you’ve got the end of your quill in your mouth, as if you had been pondering something right before you met Fred’s gaze.

“Thank Merlin she wasn’t over here, or you would’ve scared the poor girl away,” Lee says in a mocking sort of voice, which only seems to intensify Fred’s nerves.

Fred can’t help but fall into a bit of laughter with his friends too, even though the mere fact that he’d been talking in his sleep, about you, in the middle of the courtyard, makes his entire body hurt. ‘Thank Merlin’ is right.

-- -

The colour of sunshine. Ugh. How could he have been so painfully cheesy? Fred thinks about this all day long -- through every lesson, through every stroll down the corridors, through every bite of the evening feast. He can’t simply believe he’s said this out loud, even though it’s true. The truest words that have ever come out of his mouth, even. You are the colour of sunshine.

Simply bright and beamingly so -- the most beautiful of yellows.

You, he reckons, are pure warmth -- enough to soothe him on even the coldest of days.

“You know,” your voice, now closer than it seems, makes Fred jump and snap out of his own thoughts, much to George’s amusement, “this whole not-being-able-to-eat-with-your-mates-from-other-houses thing is simply stupid.”

“Why don’t you go and give Umbridge a piece of your mind, eh?” George asks you.

Your grin deepens, but you shake your head and begin to shovel dessert onto your plate. “It’s her own fault if she doesn’t notice a Hufflepuff amongst a group of Gryffindors. She’s supposed to be the Hogwarts High Inquisitor,” you say a bit stuffily, as if to imitate the woman in question, “is she not?”

“Brilliant,” Fred replies as he finds his voice. “An uncanny impersonation.”

You flip your hair over your shoulder and Fred notices a dimple appear on your cheek. He finds himself lost in your eyes as you peer at him softly over the top of your teacup, which you’ve brought slowly to your lips.

Fred’s happy to hear when you bring his all time favorite thing about the magical world into conversation and does his very best to hide his ever-obvious feelings. “Rumor has it McGonagall and Dumbledore have been pleading with Umbridge to let Gryffindor play Quidditch this year,” you tell the twins.

They peer at you with confusion. “What?” they ask together. Fred continues, “Why? What’s she going to do -- ban all teams except Slytherin? Then they’ve got nobody to verse,” he lets a laugh escape his lips.

George huffs a bit before sipping his tea. “She’s such a bloody idiot. No, I will say it louder, Ron,” George shoots his younger brother a look as Ron closes in on himself a bit, “she’s a power-hungry, egotistical toad who has no business running a bloody school.”

“The truest statement,” you point at him and then bite into your cauldron cake, “but no worry -- she’s apparently agreed to the whole Quidditch thing. Now you two’ve just got to smack the bludgers straight at Crabbe and Goyle’s heads. They’re certainly large enough -- should be easy targets.”

Fred cannot help the enormous laugh that escapes him due to your joke; in fact, he’s sort of surprised it’s only gotten the attention of half of the Great Hall, because it seems to have echoed throughout the entirety of the large room, reverberating off of the walls. Unfortunately, though, Umbridge notices and makes a beeline right toward the Gryffindor table. You turn to Fred and George, shrug your shoulders a bit and proceed to roll your eyes at the very pompous “hem-hem” that is too disturbingly sweet and high-pitched in your ears. “Miss Y/L/N,” she says in her most mocking tone of voice, “please correct me if I am mistaken but I’ve assumed by the yellow color on your robes that you are a Hufflepuff and not, in fact, a Gryffindor, as you’ve so decidedly claimed yourself.”

You turn toward her, a very large grin painted across your face, and simply reply, “No need for corrections here, ma’am.”

“Good,” Umbridge says curtly before turning on her heel. “Best return to your house table, then, before we slip you lot into detention, yes? I do hope it was worth the embarrassment, Miss.”

Embarrassment? Please. You stand up from your seat and chug the rest of your tea and pop the rest of your cauldron cake back into your mouth. You lean against the table, reaching across to the other end to grab yourself another pastry, and get as close to Fred as you possibly can. He notices a bit of a twinkle in your eye, something that’s suddenly driving him absolutely mad, when you say to him and only him, “Definitely worth it.”

A very cozy feeling sweeps itself through Fred’s bones.

-- -

The Gryffindors are lucky to have such two stealthy beaters on their team, because Fred and George know the ins and outs of the castle like nobody else. This comes in handy after a playful, late night match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, when the twins are able to sneak the entire Hufflepuff team, and even a few spectators, into the Gryffindor Common Room.

And as if he isn’t excited enough already at the pure theatrics of this entire thing, Fred finds himself smiling even more so at the sight of you, nestled in a corner with a few others, a Butterbeer clutched tightly in your hands, your cheeks rosy and flushed.

He’s reminded of a few weeks ago when he snuck into the Hufflepuff Common Room with you -- very late at night --

“Don’t you trust me?” you’d asked, taking his hand in yours.

His heart had skipped a few beats, if he was being honest.

“Merlin, it’s bright in here!” Fred had exclaimed when you’d both entered. The inviting colours had swirled around him. “How you people get any work done is beyond me. I’d never be able to focus --”

You’d laughed and shoved him. “Fred, you can’t focus, regardless.”

He’d just shrugged and sat down next to you near the fire. The entire room was empty except for the two of you. “I’ll give you that one. It’s just -- it’s so much different from our common room.”

“Well, it’s bright yellow. Plus, it feeds to all of the ‘Puffs' personalities. What did you expect, silly?”

He’d smiled at you, nestling himself comfortably against the edge of the couch. I haven’t seen yellow the same since, he’d wanted to tell you, especially because of the golden colour of your hair. “Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, I’ve got to say -- I’m rather fond of it, actually.”

His heart had nearly constricted at the feeling of you placing your head onto his shoulder. He’d been happy you couldn’t see the shock rising on his face in that of a crimson red colour, since you’d been so focused on staring into the flames. He’d suddenly felt warm -- incredibly warm. He’d willed himself to believe it was the fire, and not the feeling of your soft hair brushing against his neck. “Oh yeah? Yellow your favourite colour, and all?”

I could get lost in it, actually. Fred had to force himself to swallow over his own nerves a few times before he’d been able to say, “You could say that.”

Now, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he darts past a very confused looking Neville and plops himself down next to you, completely ignoring the fact that he’s interrupting your conversation with the others. “Hey,”

“Well hi,” you say, turning your attention toward him. He can smell the pineapple scent of your shampoo and is nearly sent into a dizzying overdrive, but he does his best to focus on the feeling of the cold glass in his fingers. “Great match.”

“Even if we did beat you guys?”

“Yeah,” you reply tersely, “Hufflepuff’s saving their strength for your actual match so they can kick your arses.”

Fred laughs haughtily and scoots a little closer to you on the steps as the others around you both disperse and head off in their respective directions. He can hear the steady pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears and decides to take a leap of faith. “Maybe. Although I will say -- you’ve got to be more careful with your leering, love.”

“Meaning?”

“Pretty sure you didn’t take your eyes off of me the entire time. You were full-on staring.”

Fred notices the pink on your cheeks seemingly deepen a bit, but you don’t let on to any embarrassment. He grins at you. “Perhaps I was. And if you’ve noticed, it means you were watching me back,”

His smile only grows at your mock voice. He replies with the same tone, “Perhaps I was.”

“You can’t do that during an actual match though, sir,” you tell him, bringing your goblet to your lips and sipping significantly, “otherwise you’re going to be distracted and I reckon you’ll be hit with a bludger, don’t you?”

Fred twirls his goblet in his hands, desperately trying to read your face and your tone. He’s having a hard time deciphering. “You do make a good point.”

“Besides,” you continue, a small smirk making the edges of your lips curl, “we can’t have you getting distracted. Although, I understand how difficult it can be -- considering I’m the colour of sunshine, and all.”

It takes a moment and a laugh before Fred’s registered what you’ve said, and you glance back down at your goblet, giggling into it a bit, and he shakes his head before turning to look at George and Lee, who seemingly have been watching you two this entire time, because they immediately glance away and immerse themselves in conversation with others around them.

“And we know how brilliantly blinding sunshine can be, don’t we, Fred?”

Someone’s playing very loud music and Fred wonders how Umbridge hasn’t caught you all yet. Or perhaps, he thinks, maybe the booming just sounds louder in his own ears.

“Almost as blinding as love, d’you reckon?”

Fred feels that warm, homely feeling take him over yet again -- but this time, he knows it’s not from the butterbeer, or the raging fire. He doesn’t even try to pretend. It’s all from you.

“Yeah, yeah -- tease all you want,” he says as confidence engulfs him. He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

You place your goblet down on the step next to you. “I wasn’t teasing,” you say very matter of factly, “so much as I was trying to get you to kiss me, actually.”

He purses his mouth into a very smug smirk and watches as your eyes dart down to his lips, and you bite down on your own. He leans in, the rest of the music and chatter surrounding you both seemingly drowned out by the steady pounding of his own heart, when --

“Oi, Freddie! C’mere, mate!”

Clearly Ron’s incapable of seeing that we’re in the middle of something, Fred wants to tell you. Instead, he pulls away slightly and whispers to you. “Want to sneak up to the Astronomy tower?”

“So late at night? How very scandalous of you.”

“Well it’s why you fancy me in the first place, isn’t it?”

He grabs your hand as you paint a very mischievous look on your face, and is about to stand up before you tug on the collar of his shirt with your free hand, pulling him back to you and pressing your lips to his in an electrified climax.

You try to part, but he pulls you closer to him and slides his hand down your leg. A soft moan emits your lips, and Fred wonders if he’d be able to sneak a Hufflepuff girl up to his own dormitory this evening. “Sorry,” you reply, biting down on your lip again, sending him into a complete tizzy. You whisper cheekily, “Just couldn’t wait.”

He smirks at you, hoping his giddiness isn’t blatantly evident in his exuberance, and pulls you to your feet. “Actually..” you say, playing again with his collar, “instead of the Astronomy tower, how about we head to the Room of Requirement?”

“No? Don’t want to look up at the stars, be all mushy, fall asleep in my arms?”

You actually snort through your laughter, rolling your eyes at him. “Yes, yes, of course I do, you sap. But I reckon we should save that for an actual date. Right now, I’d kind of just like to snog you for a few hours, if you don’t mind.”

He shakes his head at you with admiration. “What has gotten into you?”

Another hair flip from you sends warmth through Fred’s veins. “C’mon, Weasley,” you say, tugging his hand, the yellow fire reflecting in the light of your eyes, “don’t you trust me?”

[magalidragon]

So this is in response to a prompt ask I got awhile back from @freesoulladyaic— they requested beauty underneath and I am not sure exactly what but I think there was a mixup for which prompt list and number was requested so I went with the one I thought made most sense I hope you don’t mind and so sorry it has been so long! Enjoy!

Prompt: “I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too.”

"Fuck!"

"Language."

Jon looked up from where he'd stabbed his thumb with a pin, a series of them stuck between his lips.  He made a face at his wife, who was on the other side of the room, working on another dress form.  He lifted up the yards of shades of red soft organza and tulle, which he'd been alternating in a macrame styling on the bodice of the gown.  He'd been pinning them to the waist, already marked on the form.  It was giving it a very ethereal look, but with the deep colors, indicative of the Targaryen crest, the overlay looked equal parts ash and fire.

He finished off the bodice, taking the remaining pins from his mouth, and turned the form, frowning at the back, where he wanted to make the two straps criss-crossing from shoulder to waist thicker, both in black.  The red was just the detailing.  He pursed his lips, contemplating how best to achieve this, and felt eyes on him.  He lifted his, meeting Dany's gaze across the studio.  He smirked.  "What?"

"You're so focused, so intense."  She licked her lips, arching her brow teasingly. She purred, "You know what that does to me."

"Keep it in your pants, we've got dresses to finish."

"Hmm, the auteur himself, Jon Snow, working on his creation."  She sauntered over, in her long black housecoat, which she wore when working, her feet bare on the hardwood and jeans rolled at the cuffs.  Her hair was bound up in a scarf, kept from her eyes while she worked.  It was a decidedly unsexy look, measuring tape over her shoulder, pincushion strapped to her wrist and her pockets heavy with thread and a little set of scissors tucked into a brace on her other wrist, like she was some sort of sewing superhero.

He smirked up at her, the stool he was on swiveling over to her.  "Well I promised the client that I would have my best men on it."  He puffed his chest.  "And that happens to be me."

"Funny, I thought I was the client."

"You are, what do you think so far?"  He chewed his bottom lip, studying her face as she perused the fabric draped and pinned to the form.  He pretended like her opinion meant nothing to him, but in reality it was the only one that mattered.  If there was even a hint of dislike, he'd destroy the entire thing and start again.  It worked both ways.

She trailed a finger along the macrame detailing, the straps across the back, and lifted up the tulle strewn along the floor.  On the table he had sketches of the design, fabric samples pinned to a board on an easel, and at least one of the leather leggings he'd been sewing to go underneath.  While she studied everything, he got up, too nervous to watch her, and went into the adjoining office, picking up his vape.

Clamping his lips around it, he puffed, holding it in his mouth like a 'binkie' as Dany teased him, and picked up some sales reports, flicking through the assessments from their CFO.  They'd poached Willas Tyrell from his grandmother, mostly because he was bored with the steadiness of the established company and wanted something new.  He was brilliant, had taken their sales higher than even Jon had imagined-- and that was pretty far.

Dragonwolf had become the most sought after couture house in Westeros, while he transitioned L.Stark into an upscale ready-to-wear line, headed by Sansa.  Dany still maintained her CEO position over Dracarys, but Missandei had taken over as creative director.  It afforded him more time, he'd discovered, to do the things he really enjoyed doing.

Hanging out with Ghost, coming up with new creations, and Dany, not necessarily in that order.

He sucked down the fake smoke from the vape, tricking his brain it was actually a real cigarette, the action habitual and relaxing his nerves.  He sank into his chair, glancing at the photo of his mother he kept on the edge of the desk, smiling briefly at the image of her laughing, arms around him as he was wrapped up in fabric from playing in her studio.  His gaze darted to the image right beside it, of Dany in the same pose, hugging him after she had wrapped him up in fabric too.  It was in the same place, the same location he'd just come from, their private studio in the old townhome in Winterfell.

The vape still between his lips, he moved to the window, cranking it open and blowing smoke into the nighttime air, glancing towards the castle up on the hill.  The dresses were for the annual Winter's Eve Gala event, something of a who's who in the zoo of the Westerosi peerage and entertainment industry.  It was a chance for the Starks to show off the castle, everyone to arrive dripping in icy couture and jewels, and pretend like they gave a shit about the lesser people among them. There would be a famous silent auction, fundraising for the Lyanna Stark Memorial Fund-- which was incredibly important to his heart-- along with an award that would honor someone who had contributed significantly to Lyanna's chosen cause-- orphaned children.

But the thing people seemed to care most about was what everyone would be wearing.

He was making Dany's dress and she was making a dress for a new young actress as well as the young cousin of her friend Ser Jorah Mormont.  Lyanna Mormont was a Lady, technically, but you wouldn't know it.  She was a pistol.  This would be her first big event after her first movie had hit the scene, garnering her immediate raves and attention.  It was a big deal for her to be getting a chance to wear a Dracarys creation, especially handmade by Dany herself, but it was the least Dany said she could do for the young girl who made her smile and laugh every single time she encountered her.

Jon finished his vape, returning to the studio, and found Dany back to work on Lyanna's dress.  There were no notes left for him, so he continued to work, both of them silent.  He kept at it, accepting her kiss and murmured "don't stay up too late" with a distracted nod, remaining at his station into the night.  He pinned and draped and sewed, every stitch even, like his mother taught him.

Around two in the morning, his eyes burned, but he leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, and Ghost under his legs, fast asleep.  He was working on the leggings, finding hand-sewing leather to actually be a relaxing task.  It was soft in his hands, buttery almost, and he likened it to his mother, watching her work on making her own riding clothes.  He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, and pulled on thread, slipping it in and out, until his eyes drooped further and further, until he was fast asleep.

--

The suit he'd chosen to wear was one of Dany's. The irony of L.Stark by Jon Snow, award winning and bestselling couture men's designer wearing a suit from anyone but his own line, especially Dracarys.  It was something he never would have thought possible two years ago when they were at the height of their hatred for each other.  Nay, he corrected himself, it wasn't hating, it was unresolved tension, best resolved by the explosion most everyone witnessed at the MET gala.

He adjusted his tie in the mirror, smoothing the velvet brocade over his chest, eyeing Ghost, who looked like he wanted to run up to him.  He pointed his finger, warning.  "No way. This is black velvet.  I'll never get your fur out."

Ghost wagged his tail, thankfully staying put on the bed.

Indeed, it was an incredibly comfortable and finely detailed suit, black silk tie with matching black velvet brocade along it-- if you got close enough you could see it was wolves and dragons running and tangling throughout, swirls of flames and snow following them.  That was a hallmark of Dany-- her ability to tell stories with her designs and the intricacies of her attention to detail.

He left their room, knowing she was elsewhere in the suite at Winterfell, where they'd deigned to stay that evening to prepare for the event.  He thought it a little silly; they would have to pretend to "leave" just to "arrive" at the same location and walk up the icy blue carpet with photographers.

Price they paid, he supposed, for business.

He left the suite, taking his time down the set of stone stairs spiraling down from their sitting and bedroom areas, into a receiving hall.  Davos was already waiting, their constant taskmaster, and he had Satin floating about somewhere.  "Where's Arya?" he asked.

"I believe she said and I quote 'fuck this shit, I'm not going.'"

He snorted, fixing his cufflinks.  "Sounds about right."

Davos checked his watch.  "I'll go check on the car."

"Stupid Davos, this is stupid."

"It's just a whip around the block."  Davos nodded, signing, resigned.  "Although aye, it is stupid."

"What's stupid?"

Jon heard Dany's voice before he saw her, and turned, looking up the stairs to where she was at the top, waiting for him.  He gaped, mute, and jaw dropping the moment his eyes rested on her form.  It took his brain a second to catch up with his body, which was already responding in kind, and another second for his voice to return.

He choked, watching her smirk at him, knowing exactly how she appeared and what she was doing.  Especially with the slow descent she took, every step tiny, allowing the full effect of her appearance to settle.  He could not believe it.

It was one thing to see a dress on paper, another in progress, and even the final version on the form or on a model down the runway.

It was another when it was on the person who inspired it, who it was meant for, from the first sketch to the final stitch.

Dany floated down the stairs, the dress whispering around her, the crimson and black rippling through the soft tulle.  It gave her a fairy-like appearance, but it was the black macrame, the black strappy heels on her feet, and her black fingernails, leather leggings, and crimson lips that warned eveyrone she was no simpering little thing.  She would burn you alive.

The skirt floated about her and she had topped it off with the see-through tulle gloves he'd made at the last minute.  Her silver tresses were spun in a complicated braided style, mountains of them criss-crossing and tangling in a crown about her head.

Someone asked her once why she always wore her hair in such intricate braids-- it had become her trademark.  "When I was growing up I learned a lot about the Dothraki tradition of a braid for a victory," she explained.  She had smirked.  "I grew up with the Dothraki.  They were my family.  I have never been defeated.  The braids show that."

Jon couldn't believe how gorgeous she was.

Or how lucky he happened to be.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, found his voice.  "You know, I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too."

Dany beamed, her smile beatific.  She offered her elbow to him, to take and lead her away to their car, but instead he lifted her hand delicately, even though that had was stronger than anyone would have thought at first look.  Eyes on hers, unblinking, he dragged his fingertips up the tulle, delighting in her breathy hiss.

He dipped under the top of the glove, above her elbow, and began to peel it down, agonizingly slow.  Her pupils dilated and mouth fell, her tongue darting out to nervously wet her lips.  He plucked at fingers, removing the glove.  With her skin bared, he stroked her forearm and then lifted her knuckles to his lips, brushing over them.

"Jon," she gasped, brows arching.  "We're going to be late."

"Do you think I care?"

"It took forever to get into this dress and look like this."

He spun her into his arms, tossing the glove down, and nosed at her neck, whispering along her racing pulse.  "I made the dress, I'll be careful."

"Not a word in your vocabulary."

He didn't acknowledge that, because he was kissing her.  After a moment, he lifted her under her knees, hurrying her back towards the stairs, to her delighted giggles.

Occupational hazard, he thought, later when they were late, racing down the carpet instead of allowing photos taken.  He made her the dresses, even though honestly, she looked good in anything.  Or nothing, as the case may be.

"Dany, who are you wearing?" someone called out.

Dany shouted back.  "Who do you think?"

He laughed, racing after her and not even bothering to answer the same question directed at him.