#i haven’t actually had the spoons to write anything in months so this was really nice to do

[winchesternova-k]

31 Days of Dragon Age - Day 2

favourite origins romance

[picrew by @/elena-illustration]

leliana’s romance has been my favourite so far and i ended up writing a ficlet about her relationship with havella

leliana and havella were friends before things became romantic.

havella was intrigued by her from the start, and had a bit of a crush, but they were always friends first and foremost - and by the time they actually get together, havella would say leliana is her best friend. she finds leliana’s dream about the blight and the tale about the rose fascinating, and sees no reason to argue whether it’s a sign from the maker. she hasn’t mixed her religious beliefs yet (but is open to doing so), but sees no reason why the maker couldn’t send a sign to its believers while the stone sends signs to its. they discuss theology a lot early on, and it’s a breath of fresh air for havella after hearing some of the more awful chantry beliefs at ostagar and in lothering. leliana does not and is not trying to convert her, which havella appreciates, they both just enjoy swapping their opinions and beliefs back and forth.

there’s also mutual respect and admiration from the moment they first meet. havella appreciates her for stepping in at the tavern in lothering, and admires her for sticking so strongly to her beliefs and moral code. she is also but a humble lesbian, and leliana looked beautiful with her knives.

they become fast friends after that, and havella is surprised when leliana calls her pretty. hardly anyone had ever complimented her before. even more rarely had they been sincere or without ulterior motive, and almost never had it been a woman. she’d never had a girlfriend before (though she had kissed a handful of other girls when she was a bit younger), and she’d had no idea that her feelings for leliana might have been mutual. their flirting is a bit awkward at first, but very earnest, and havella feels very vulnerable. leliana never breaks her trust or makes her feel like she’s made a mistake for trying to come closer.

soon, she’s spending more and more time with leliana, both for romantic and platonic reasons. leliana compliments her hair one night and before she knows it havella is asking her to do it for her. she’d never had much time to learn different styles and what she did have she spent on rica’s hair. she basks in the attention that leliana offers. leliana talks to her about orlesian fashion, and havella listens eagerly. she’d similarly never had the money to bother with orzammar’s trends and she enjoys listening to leliana’s tales and her voice. she’s never had much interest in fashion, or the resources to have the interest, but she has the time now to decide if she might. if nothing else, she enjoys learning more about the surface and it’s cultures, and laughing with leliana.

it doesn’t take long for her crush to grow into real romantic feelings. and those feelings only grow stronger when leliana tells her the truth about her past. she feels oddly relieved when she does. they’d already been together for a little while at that point, but it made her feel like they were on even ground somehow. she’d always known that leliana wasn’t judging her for her past, but hearing that they had so much in common and so many of the same feelings just hammered it home. leliana is also eager to become a better person and make amends for her past, and their pasts are so similar it makes havella feel more fully understood than she ever has with anyone else. it makes her want more than ever to be better. and it makes her feel like she won’t always be trying to live up to the image leliana had been projecting. that she won’t always be trying. maybe someday she’ll just be good. maybe they both will. but for now, they can be equal at least.

the night leliana tells her she loves her is the happiest she’s ever been. havella had been in love with her for a while by that point, but she’d been too afraid to tell her. she knew that leliana would never be cruel to her, but she was worried that if leliana didn’t feel the same, or wasn’t looking for a serious relationship (at least with her), she would ruin the relationship they had, both platonic and romantic. she’d never had a real relationship with anyone before, and she already knew that if leliana would let her, she’d spend the rest of her life with her. and when leliana told her she felt the same, they decided then and there that they would never be parted.

[lovelylotusf1]

Lotus! Hi! <3 How about 34 Love spell/curse/potion with any pairing you like! 🤍

Charlie!! Thank you for the prompt, I had lots of fun writing it! <3 This is set in a vaguely modern/uni AU where Landoscar are flatmates and magic is real but only some people have it.

More prompts if you went to send some!

Love Potion

“Stir it for three more minutes. Then I'll add the last ingredient and it’s done,” Oscar says absentmindedly.

Lando makes an affirmative noise, and the sound of metal clinking against metal is enough to tell Oscar that he doesn’t need to check on him. So, he continues walking around the kitchen, potion book in hand, and tries to find the correct bottle he needs. It’s not in the kitchen cabinet where all his tools for potion making are. Did he leave it somewhere else? Or did Lando put it somewhere without knowing what’s in it?

Don’t get him wrong, he’s glad that Lando accepted that Oscar is a wizard with nothing more than an hour long whining session about how unfair it is that Oscar gets to do all that “cool stuff”. Otherwise, it would have been pretty annoying trying to sneak a huge cauldron around their shared flat whenever he needed to make potions for the odd requests he does to get some more money.

But now, he’s basically glued to Oscar's side whenever Oscar’s trying to do anything that requires magic. Lando’s large hands on Oscar’s back as he’s peering over his shoulder. His warm body basically plastered against Oscar. Sometimes he rests his head on Oscar’s shoulder and laughs in his ear when Oscar blushes and drops something as a result.

It’s incredibly distracting.

Finally, Oscar finds the bottle he’s looking for, and only seconds later, his phone timer goes off. “Stop stirring please.”

“Mint. What are we even making?”

Oscar turns around and his heart drops to his stomach at what he sees. Lando is holding the metallic spoon he used to stir the unfinished potion to his lips. Ready to take a sip.

“Lando, stop! That’s not –”

But Lando already swallowed. And promptly bursts into a series of coughs, probably because the taste has to be awful in its unfinished state.

That can't be good.

Oscar licks his lips. Studies Lando’s facial expression closely for any changes as soon as he stops coughing. “Do you. Feel any different?”

Lando cocks his head. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Not really. Why? Isn’t this like your usual health potions and stuff?”

Oscar takes a deep breath. Fights against the oncoming panic that’s threatening to overpower his rational thoughts.

“It’s. Uhm. It’s a potion that,” he manages to say before his next sentence dissolves into a ramble. “It’s actually pretty complicated and in a legal grey area but the wizard who requested it was willing to pay a huge amount of money. And with the rent increase, we really need the money and –”

“Oscar,” Lando interrupts him with a hint of dread in his voice. He drops the spoon in the sink before taking a step towards him. “What does the potion do?”

Oscar can’t keep looking at him. Instead, he looks down at the kitchen tiles that haven’t been cleaned in more than a month. “It’s a love potion. It makes you fall in love with the first person you see.”

Lando’s answering laugh sounds a bit manic. “But I don’t feel different. It’s because it wasn’t finished right? Right?”

“The last ingredient is only there to neutralise the taste. It should work.” Oscar wracks his brain for an explanation. A love potion that works as soon as you take a single sip, but only up to 48 hours. You can tell that it worked by the reddish hue that gets added to the person’s eyes.

Oscar whips his head up so fast it makes him dizzy. Stares intently into Lando’s wide eyes. They’re the same. Why are they the same? The potion always works if the recipient isn’t already – Wait.

Oscar inhales sharply as the implications hit him. “It doesn’t work if you’re already in love with the person.”

Lando stays silent.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 8

Look at you lucky ducks! Two WIP Wednesday excerpts today! I'm afraid you won't be able to get used to it. Going forward I may update each fic on alternating weeks. I have a busy few months coming up if everything goes to plan and could use the buffer in case I can't get much writing done. We'll see, though.

I'm going to start leaving a fic summary at the beginning of every excerpt in case people find this in the wild and want to know what they're getting into.

Summary: Danny is finally going to meet Jazz's boyfriend Jason. At Jason's family's mansion. He spent weeks making sure he could have an evening off of any Ghost King business. But when he meets Jason on the steps of the mansion, he can barely pay attention to the guy because his focus is on the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off his shoulders. Who is very happy to find someone who can actually see him.

Word Count: 1.4k

First, Previous

----------

“Right. Um… Well, I do just kinda do whatever is necessary or find someone who can. Because, um, well, I’m… kinda the High King of the Infinite Realms? There’s a bunch more titles after that but I refuse to memorize them because ugh.”

Danny looked down at his plate, not wanting to see everyone’s reactions. Jazz must’ve made sure he got a piece of pie because it sat in front of him. It looked so good. Did they even know about the Infinite Realms? Justice League Dark members did, but did Batman? Jazz reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Tim and Barbara’s typing seemed to get faster. And then a pair of pixie boots and legs settled on the table next to his plate. He looked up and met Robin’s eyes.

Robin reached out an poked Danny on the nose. He gave a little trill of safe, friends drawing a smile out of Danny.

At the same time, Duke exclaimed, “That’s why you have a crown!”

And Steph said, “Okay, I may be out of the loop, but what the hell are the Infinite Realms?”

Damian snorted. “Aren’t you too young to be a king of anything?”

Danny half stood. “Look, do you want to go spar or something? Is that why you keep picking fights? Because we can do that. Fighting is good for young liminals. But I really don’t think this is the time or place.”

Jazz groaned and dragged him back into his seat. “Stop it, Danny. You’re on Earth right now.” Speaking over Danny’s protests, she explained to Damian, “We wish. Managed to get them to delay until he turned eighteen at least, but his grandfather wouldn’t let us wait any longer than that.”

Danny let the fight drop, but he did notice how Damian’s grip on his spoon tightened. Looked like they would be having that spar tonight if Damian had anything to say about it. Still, Jazz was right and he had to follow human customs on Earth so he bumped his sister’s shoulder and spoke to her instead. “You know as well as I do that he would’ve if it was possible. But thanks to Pariah, there are things that haven’t been done in a thousand years and it’s been causing so many problems.”

“Steph,” said Barbara. “The Infinite Realms are the spaces between universes according to Constantine. His documentation states that the Realm’s inhabitants are all incredibly overpowered and should not be approached under any circumstances. Just one being can evade all methods of capture with standard supplies.”

Jazz nodded. “And our parents dedicated their lives to building a portal to the Infinite Realms, or the Ghost Zone as they call it, and destroying all ghosts.”

“By ‘ghosts,’��� asked Bruce, “Do you mean beings from these Infinite Realms?”

Jazz nodded. “Yes. Most beings from the Infinite Realms come into being when a living creature dies in a traumatic way, with a lot of emotion, or near a large source of ectoplasm. Usually some combination of all three.”

Both Tim and Bruce tried to ask further questions, but Jason’s voice cut in over theirs. “Jazz, when you say your parents wanted to ‘destroy all ghosts,’ did they stop after Danny’s accident?” Jason’s question did, at least, cause silence to fall as everyone stared at the two siblings.

Jazz looked down and gripped the tablecloth tightly, jaw clenched. Now it was Danny’s turn to lay a comforting hand over hers.

“No,” Danny said. “They didn’t. They didn’t know what happened for several years and when they found out… Well, there’s a reason I can’t use their last name and Jazz won’t call them ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ anymore. But”—Danny clapped his hands—“this is a great segway into what is actually important. Does the Justice League know about the Guys in White? More formally known as the Ghost Investigation Ward? Or even just GIW?”

“That name is unfamiliar to me,” said Bruce.

Tim agreed. “Babs and I aren’t seeing anything in the JL databases.”

Even Robin just shrugged.

Danny didn’t expect the jolt of pain that sent through his chest and Jazz turned their hands around until they were gripping each other’s hands with more force than any baseline human would’ve been able to.

“I told you, Danny. They didn’t know. They didn’t know.” Her eyes were wet, but she forced a shaky smile. “You could’ve had help.”

Danny just shook his head. “Even if I had believed they didn’t know… Without meeting them, without knowing how many of their own were in danger, I would’ve never trusted them. Too many people rely on me for me to risk it.”

“Care to enlighten the rest of us?” asked Dick. His posture was relaxed, but his voice had an edge that hadn’t been there earlier.

Robin nodded from where he sat staring at Danny. He sent out a questioning Danger? pulse at Danny.

“Yeah, danger,” agreed Danny. “Barbara, Tim, if I give you a law code number, can you pull up the law I’m referring to?”

“Of course,” agreed Barbara. “Just a moment… And shoot.”

Danny gave them the code for the Anti-Ecto Acts. “The Guys in White are the government agency responsible for enforcing the Anti-Ecto Acts which classify all ‘ectoplasmic entities’”—he made the air quotes—“as non-sentient and non-sapient and excludes us from the metahuman protection acts.”

“What the fuck!” shouted Duke.

Next to Danny, Dick suddenly was sitting up tense. “That’s impossible.”

“The league would’ve noticed such an act being passed,” said Damian, though he didn’t look as sure as his words would seem.

Cass merely tilted her head and looked at him while Steph choked on her drink.

Bruce looked to Tim and Barbara. “Is this true?” he asked them.

Robin pointed to himself and mouthed the word ‘Me?’ at Danny.

“I’m afraid so. And Bruce, Cass, Steph, and Damian as well.”

Dick’s spluttering got louder. “How are they all in danger?” he demanded to know.

Before Danny could reply, Tim was speaking. “It’s all true. And far worse than Danny implied. Not only are ecto-entities not protected by the metahuman protection laws, but they are to be actively hunted and turned over to the GIW for experimentation and extermination and anyone who assists them is declared guilty of treason.”

“When did they pass?” asked Bruce.

“Four years ago,” said Barbara. “While Luthor was president. They were hidden in some laws about green energy.”

“Ghost are made of ectoplasm,” explained Jazz. “Ectoplasm is a fantastic energy source.”

“It happened a few months after I defeated the previous king but before my coronation,” added Danny.

“Why do you think myself, Damian, Cass, Stephanie, and Jason will be targeted by this Ghost Investigation Ward?”

“It’ll be easier to show you.” Danny reached down and pulled up his bag. The thing was made in Pandora’s realm and was bigger on the inside. Once open, it took him a moment to find what he was looking for. He could see Robin signing to the group next to him. “Here we are,” Danny said as he pulled out three devices. “These are all different ectoplasm detection devices. One is my own design, one is the Guys in White’s design, and one is my parent’s design. I’ll show you mine first because it’s the best.”

“Might be a dumb question,” started Dick, “but what the hell is ectoplasm?”

“So you know how all the elements in this universe came about from nuclear fusion of hydrogen in the cores of stars?” asked Danny. When most everyone nodded, he continued, “In the Infinite Realms, that base element is ectoplasm. But there’s no need for a star to transform it into anything else. It will mold to the shape any consciousness that interacts with it wants. When sentient creatures slip through, either by a portal or through death or any other means, they shape the part of the Realm they’re in to their will. The stronger the ghost, the larger the area they control.” Holding out his hands, Danny called forth a ball of ectoplasm, shaping it into a glowing-green ice duck. “Something like this,” he commented grinning around the table.

Only to be met with horrified looks as most of the table were staring at his hands with distrust. Damian had his knife out again. Jason, his gun with the other arm held protectively in front of Jazz. Bruce was standing and Cass tense.

“What’s wrong?” asked Danny. “It’s just an ice duck sculpture. Completely harmless.”

Jason’s voice was low and threatening. “It’s an ice duck made of Lazarus water.”

More alarming than his voice was the way his eyes glowed ecto-green and the fear-anger that filled the room.

----------

Next

Challenge: Stay on one topic for more than two sentences.

Outcome: Failed.

They keep getting side tracked with more questions. And Danny still hasn't had a bite of his pie. This evening will never be over.

Tag List Part 1

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

Looks like 50 is the limit for active user tags in a post. Good to know

[themarydragon]

Love-Lost-Found Q&A

They’re not technically FAQ because nobody’s had a chance to ask anything yet, but here’s my extended author’s note for Lost and Found (and the upcoming prequel, Loved and Lost).

1.       Where have you been/What took so long/You haven’t posted in years/WTF

As I am sure has been the case for most everyone else, the last 3-5 years have SUCKED. I lucked out, and everyone I love most has survived (cancer and heart attacks and covid, oh my), but being a full time nurse and full time graduate (nursing) student during a global pandemic consumed every spare spoon I had. We scraped together the down payment on our forever home and moved this summer, and I went on sabbatical once we got settled, so my plan is to ease back into fandom while I watch the snow fall and otherwise hibernate this winter.

2.       New fic what dis? Loved & Lost & Found is a two-part Modern AU of Breath of the Wild. “What if the Sheikah technology wasn’t lost? What would a high-tech Hyrule look like?” I’ll start off with Lost and Found, which starts roughly halfway through our story. Loved and Lost is first chronologically but I’ll post it second. Much like BOTW, my hope is to slowly reveal memories and plot points as they are recalled by Link. Once he gets his memory back, I’ll put Lost and Found on hold while posting Loved and Lost (the backstory). It means you’ll get left hanging for awhile if you’re reading it as I post, but (!!) the story is COMPLETE so there will be no hiatus or risk of abandonment. If you REALLY don’t like the order I post it in, just give it a couple months and then you can consume the whole thing in one go in whatever order you want.

3.       You’ve got this character relationship wrong/that’s not canon/well ACTUALLY its THIS I’ve combined the principal players from both eras in BOTW, so individuals who are supposed to be distantly related and 100 years apart are contemporaries. I am completely aware that this is absolutely not canon and I did it intentionally. Every ‘OC’ I’ve created to flesh out the world has a name stolen from some other LoZ side/background character, either in BoTW or older games, and generally that was just so the names were canonically Hylian and NOT to indicate this OC was that character, etc. For example, this Link’s Princess Zelda is meant to be the BotW Zelda, and NOT the one whose name she bears (that will make sense when we get to it).

4.       Trigger Warnings and Themes Much like canon, BotW Link is grievously injured and wakes up with no memories. We start off with a hospital scene and I do brush on some body dysphoria. There are discussions of PTSD and mental health. There is canon-typical death and violence, although with some modern arms & armaments (i.e. more bullet wounds and fewer gratuitous stabbings, the explosions stay about the same). Hyrule is militarized, but this is meant to mirror canon and is not intended to be social commentary. In world building I have given the non-Hylian races of Hyrule a little more biological diversity, such as making Gorons agender and Zora more fishlike. While this is a Zelink fic, they’re both bisexual disasters. There is a running joke about Link wrecking a motorcycle.  Author is an asshole and wants to make you feel things, but only out of love and never out of malice.

5.       Posting Schedule In the past I’ve posted every 4 days. Once a week is not enough, but trying to pick a specific day or days has always bit me in the ass. I’ll get a feel for this as we go. I haven’t edited this into chapters yet – its still two long ass word files – and I have a couple of scenes that happen in between that I haven’t yet decided where I’ll put them, so I do not have a final chapter count yet. Also a background character has turned into my new favorite (to rival Higgins as a throw-away who becomes a main character) and I might have to write her story on its own and post a part 3. Shit’s dark, though, so we’ll see whether I can do it justice. #mamalou

[archaeopter-ace]

Back in January I decided that my To Do list needed to be more ~tactile~, and since my new system has been working well going on four months now, I thought I’d share it here

[Image ID: a one-foot square of corkboard in a rustic brown frame, displayed flat on a surface. An eight-pointed compass rose has been painted on it in gold and dark teal, with a circle in the center left bare. At the points of the compass are tiny pins holding metal numbered circular tags in place; visible are numbers 9 through 12. Placed on top of the compass are an assortment of small objects; each object occupies no more than two halves of a point. Object include a Dirt Devil pin, a soda can tab, a yellow push pin, a frying pan and iron from a Monopolgy game, a brown fake leaf, a puzzle piece, a red carabiner, an AO3 Kudos pin, a tiny raven, and white buttons glued together with an charm-sized metal spoon. Off to one side is an upside-down 1.5 inch pot with a strawberry eraser on top. / End ID]

I painted a compass rose onto a square of cork that I had from a previous craft project (the frame is a super-lucky find from Goodwill!). Each point represents one hour, divided into half-hour increments. Number tags are used to indicate time, e.g. I set this one up to start getting things done at 9 AM. (I use a 24 hr clock, so 1 PM is represented with 13)

It only runs for 8 hours unless I go back and update it in the middle of the day, but 8 hours of being productive is enough to be getting on with, and if I don’t hit my targets, then there’s just flex time built in.

Every morning I populate my daily schedule with tokens from a pool of possibilities. And that’s one of the things I really like about this, over conventional To Do list making: I feel encouraged to vary my routine, do something different than I did the day before, give a token I like but haven’t used in a while a chance to come into play.

[Image ID: A large round wooden serving platter covered with small objects, like something out of a kid’s ‘I Spy’ book. Included are: various buttons, a tiny birdhouse charm, a mini Swedish Dala horse, LEGO Spider-Man, two disembodied hands, a 9V battery, toy Mini Cooper convertible I got out of a Kinder egg, white elephant bead, snowflake earring, plastic rat, carved wooden lion, chess piece, supermarket member token, piece of rose quartz with a wolf engraved on it, headphone, rubbed lizard, a 1 centimeter microchip, cardamon pod, fake yellow and blue flowers, plastic shapes, mini halogen bulb, pizza charm, brown glass apothecary jar, and an antique toy refrigerator for a dollhouse. / end ID]

The advantages I have found to using this system:

No red-text OVERDUE designation like on some to do list apps. I get done what I can and that’s good enough. And unlike when I was writing out my list on a piece of paper, it’s super easy to re-arrange as the day goes along.

A lot of people say the fun part of making To Do lists is crossing things off. That is only true if you succeed and actually manage to cross things off. Otherwise you are left with a lot of uncrossed items, which can make you feel worse. Under my new To Do list, the fun part is adding things to my list. I start my day thinking about what I want to fill my day with - fun leisure activities included - and even if I have a very unproductive day and hardly get anything done, just starting out the day every day with this attitude has been a tremendous help.

It only covers one day at a time. I save tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow, just focused on Today

It doesn’t tell me I need to complete given tasks, just that I need to work on them for the allotted time

Brains will read text automatically. I can’t look at a word and Not read it. Which means that with a traditional To Do list, I can’t help but look ahead and worry about an upcoming task I might be dreading. With this tactile to do list, everything is representational. It makes it easier to compartmentalize and deal with one task/activity at a time. Relatedly, it makes it easier to engage with tasks I really dread by giving them a cool token.

It’s flexible. Partly because it’s vibes-based and just needs to make sense to me, but also because I can combine established tokens together. So if I combine ‘Doctor’ with ‘Telephone,’ I need to call to my doctor. But if I combine ‘Telephone’ with ‘Friend’s Token,’ it means I want to call that friend, and if I combine ‘Friend’s Token’ with ‘Computer,’ I should email them instead. ‘Computer’ can be combined with ‘Organize Files,’ etc.

Fun Things and Chores are treated equally. They are all just how I want to be spending my time. This has helped me find time to draw and go for walks, instead of getting stuck in a rut of scrolling on my phone or reading endless fanfiction. There are many and varied ways to entertain my brain, and seeing the maximalist clutter of possibilities every morning helps to remind me of that.

[Image ID: The same board arrangement as the first image, this time close-up from a lower angle. / End ID]

This was my planned schedule for today.

9AM: Dirt Devil pin says clean up house. Paired it with soda can tab for take trash and recycling to dump, and the white buttons and mini spoon that means do dishes.

10AM: large flat brown leather button resting on a Lord of the Rings ring of power, with a one-inch miniature book on top. Go to library, I have some things I need to return. While I’m there, I can take advantage of the distraction-free environment to

11AM: paperwork. It was very satisfying to hammer that nail through a stack of scrap paper. 11:30 This is the token I made to represent Writing. A hexagonal piece of plastic covered in newspaper for the base, onto which I glued a circular bronze-colored button and topped with another button, this one with a swirly green gemlike qualities and gold accents.

12 o’clock: Lunchtime! It’s a frying pan.

1PM has a unicorn-head pushpin and a cast iron raven figurine, representing tumblr and discord, respectively. (For me, ‘tumblr’ here means ‘hey, how about finally getting around to reblogging things from my 4000+ drafts? Or the stuff I’ve been liking since Goncharov that I intended to reblog just as soon as I had the time to go through likes?’)

At 2PM brown leaf says go outside, red carabiner on top says go hiking.

3PM jigsaw puzzle piece says work on a jigsaw puzzle, that one’s pretty straightforward. 3:30 has the iron from a Monopoly game, so I will be putting laundry away.

4PM has an AO3 kudos tag, to remind me to leave one of those comments I’ve been meaning to get around to for ages...

And that’s my planned schedule for the day! If I get even half of these things done it will have been a pretty successful day, lots to feel good about.

[ID: The small brown apothecary jar, sitting in a sunny windowsill. Inside are what appear to be dead insects. /End ID] Bonus! A close-up of the jar of wasps I use to represent doctor business. I think it sums up how I feel about making appointments nicely. (Actually going is fine, finding a doctor and making appointments is the struggle).

[awritingcaitlin]

Caitlin's Writing Snippet Roundup 2022

Caitlin, what did you spend Christmas Eve doing? Surely it wasn't several hours creating a bunch of snippet canva slides and then putting them into one master image for the purposes of doing a 2022 "art" roundup but make it writing?

(Yes, audience, that is exactly what she did.)

So basically, I tracked down a scene I wrote each month in 2022 and pulled a short snippet from each. Since I know that's not easy to read, I'll be posting individual images in the thread! I've written a lot this year and am really proud.

This is from CureWIP back in January.

This is from CureWIP in February! Finally these two admit it.

CureWIP in March. Let me tell you, finding a snippet from this late in the WIP got difficult. So once again, I am using these lines because I am *completely normal* about them.

From ViolinHeist in April!

ViolinHeist in May. A little nod to my own allergy to adhesive.

ViolinHeist in June! (Writing the heist!) (Okay, heist 1)

Also not Lelia multitasking like a bamf.

ViolinHeist in July! This one was rough to not get a spoilery section, so have this wonderful exchange about KnifeWife Riela.

Spoilers, she has more than three.

From SiegeWIP in August! Siege was a rewrite so I was hunting for either a new scene, or a massively overhauled one, which is what this one is.

From SiegeWIP in September! All of my new scenes written in September are also massively spoilery, so I grabbed this one instead.

From SiegeWIP in October. This was an old scene that got cut, then reworked and put back in!

From ViolinHeist Draft 2 in November. This was a reworked scene, with more details added!

And lastly, ViolinHeist Draft 2 in December. This is a new scene!

Unfortunately, I do not have a template or anything. This was me bullying Canva, taking screenshots, throwing it into PowerPoint because of the grid-system (I'm on my tablet with no art programs), and then taking more screenshots. But if you'd like to do this too, go for it!

Longer snippets under the cut:

JANUARY

“So let me get this straight,” Private First-Class Tim O’Brian, the assistant, asked Riela. “You come immediately to the kitchen after coming out of the safe room, clear up the dead bodies, and throw on three pots of food.”

“Yep,” Riela replied.

Rinnie opened one eye. Riela was currently hovering over some pan that smelled like garlic. Rinnie might have some of that too if it finished fast enough.

“And you have no military training?” Tim pressed.

“Look,” Riela said, brandishing a wooden stirring spoon in his general direction. “Where I come from, there’s not a lot of mages, especially not theramancers. But it didn’t take me very long to put together that something as simple as a bowl of rice was the difference between a man bleeding out and walking five minutes later.”

“Theramancers aren’t that good,” Tim argued.

“She is,” Riela said, pointing the spoon in Rinnie’s direction.

Rinnie felt her face flush. She put another bite of pasta in her mouth and pretended, with absolute futility, that she hadn’t heard.

FEBRUARY

“Oh fuck you bitch,” Taryn said.

Rinnie paused, actually taken aback.

“I’m covering your ass,” Taryn continued. “My orders had no expiration date and so far, I haven’t gotten new ones. So as far as I’m concerned, I’m still your bodyguard. I have just as much right to be there as Kanjo does.”

Rinnie swallowed. She had no grounds to tell Taryn not to do something stupid when she was literally in the same position.

“As afraid as I am that something is going to backfire on us spectacularly on this one,” Rinnie said. “I’m glad you’re going to have my back.”

Taryn smirked. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Rinnie felt blood rise to her cheeks and she was glad the relative darkness of the courtyard with only the truck’s headlamps providing light. “You know, no one’s ever told me ‘fuck you’ in such an affectionately derogatory way before.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting feelings over that?” Taryn teased.

“Taryn, I think it’s time we both admitted that there’s feelings involved.”

MARCH

Kanjo knew that Killian could not have known exactly what he was doing when he told Rin to go after the Queen. Killian could not have known that this was the kind of shit you had to do to keep an oracle out of trouble. Self-inflicted or otherwise.

Maybe he did know.

Maybe he had known that Rin would follow those orders to a fault.

Kanjo didn’t know jack shit about what was afflicting the Schmiedish monarch, but he did know how to handle a tired and weak mage with a migraine. He looked to one side to ensure Taryn had Rin, since she’d frozen for half a second. Telepathic migraine backlash most likely.

“Keep an eye out for the battlemage,” he told them.

Rin looked like she’d collected herself again. Good.

They got to the table and hunkered down underneath. Rin grabbed the Queen’s hands and was probably doing something with theramancy. She’d done that with Ilani when she was a child.

Suddenly, a roaring wind whipped through the room. Kanjo looked out to see the battlemage in the center of the spell. He forced the wind through one of the windows, breaking it. The smoke began to thin. Reflexively, Kanjo put a shield around the five of them.

APRIL

Em couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Wait, so you’re suggesting he steals a violin out of a museum?” she flat-out asked, her words leaving her mouth a surprised hiss.

It seemed the absolute irony that she’d spent the better part of the afternoon convincing herself not to just go steal another violin and here were two guys talking about it like it was a standard trade agreement.

Which, technically, many heists were just that.

The gentleman turned to her, seemingly unsurprised at her interruption. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about thieving, would you?” he asked.

“And if I do?” Em asked, choosing her words very carefully.

“Perhaps you could help.”

MAY

“It will need pressure right here,” Lelia said, pointing to the separation. “If there’s not enough for it to affix properly, it will start pulling apart.”

“I can make that happen,” Verity said confidently.

“Well, it’ll save me from getting epoxy all over my fingertips,” Lelia said. “And I probably shouldn’t do that because I’m allergic to it.”

At this, there was a rustle of papers and Lelia looked up at Em, who was, in turn, looking at Lelia over a set of schematics.

“You’re allergic to the epoxy that you’re using to jury-rig my violin back together?”

“Only if it touches my skin,” Lelia said casually. “Not that big of a deal.”

“Oh my gods just let Verity do the thing with the telekinesis,” Em said.

“That’s what we’re doing,” Lelia assured her.

JUNE

Ronan stood guard, but Em could tell much of his attention was on the Fiddle in the case.

“Focus on keeping an eye out,” she hissed.

“I’ve got a ward over all exits,” Lelia said. “I’ll know if anyone crosses them before any of us can see anything.”

“Why wasn’t that mentioned as part of the plan?” Vinny asked.

“I just thought of it,” Lelia said.

“How many spells are you running?” Ronan asked.

“A few.”

Em frowned.

JULY

“Riela, how many knives do you have?”

“Three,” Riela said, nonchalantly.

She was wearing one of her usual skirts, which Em supposed she had at least two hidden in. Her sleeves were loose which could conceal another. Or perhaps she had one tucked into her bodice. She almost wondered if she should suggest that Riela change into pants. All the other girls were wearing pants. But Em had also not seen Riela wear anything else and it was clear she could move around in them easily enough.

Mama Cass gave Riela an approving nod.

AUGUST

“I am ordering you to stand down, Colour Sergeant,” Risingblock said. “You are to report back to medical and remain there until you are fit for duty.”

Risingblock was trying desperately to control a situation. Kanjo wasn’t playing by the rules.

“With no due respect, sir, kiss my ass.” Kanjo replied. “I’m going to find Rin.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Respectfully, your excellency, Sir, fuck off. I’m going to find Rin.”

Before Risingblock could argue again, Kanjo left the room. He needed to find that Sergeant.

“That sounded like it went swimmingly,” Kiyo said, standing as he walked back into the lobby.

He rolled his eyes.

SEPTEMBER

Rinnie nodded then yawned loudly.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“When was the last time you slept?” she countered. “I’ve had some of Mica’s awake serum.”

“That I think you’re coming down from,” Adler pointed out. “And you’ve been casting left and right since we started this whole escapade. You’re gonna burn yourself out.”

“What do you know about mages?” Rinnie pouted.

“I’ve seen battlemages and theramancers and loads in between,” Adler said. “They are generally the most well-protected people in an entire company.”

Rinnie nodded, slowly.

“You need sleep,” Adler repeated. “You’re crashing.”

“But there’s still…”

Adler wasn’t arguing with her any longer. He looked up, trying to find Skythorn, but the man must’ve gone to relieve himself. Lodgepool stood against the wall, looking more alert than he probably was. Adler went over to Killian.

“Sir, the mage is tired and belligerent.” Adler jerked a thumb at Rinnie.

OCTOBER

Rinnie saw herself in this girl and she was already running to join the fray.

“She’s a theramancer!” Rinnie interjected. “Don’t give her a sedative, a non-narcotic painkiller will do.”

“And who are you?” asked the older of the two doctors.

“The theramancer from South Town,” Rinnie said dismissively. She turned her attention to the girl. “Have you fixed things before?”

The girl nodded and her face scrunched up in pain.

Rinnie took a second to see exactly how much power the girl had. The answer was a lot. She was still young enough for her power to feel raw and largely uncontrolled. However, if she’d practiced healing before, her body would start healing itself before the bone was set.

“We’re going to help you set your bone, okay?” Rinnie told her. “We’ll get you some painkillers and if you want, I’ll let you help.” The other two doctors spluttered. Rinnie ignored them.

NOVEMBER

Something had gotten fucked up. One of her spells must have failed. She’d pulled a loop too early. Or her redirection of the wards on the case hadn’t been good enough.

Knowing full well she was not going to be able to move down the stairs at any acceptable speed, she slid back out of the violin case.

“Go,” she said, handing it to Em. “Get back to the car and don’t wait for me. I’ll find my own way back.”

“Are you sure?” Em said. “What about the crystals?”

Lelia grimaced. She should have left the ones by the stairs until they’d been sure. “We don’t have another option,” she said. She’d fucked that one up at the very least. “I’ll try to get suspicion off of you if I need to.”

Her mind raced, still trying to figure out where she’d messed up in the exhibit. She was better than this!

Em didn’t argue further. She took the violin case from Lelia and slid into it.

DECEMBER

“So what is it you do?” Em asked.

Izzy’s eyes brightened.

“Oh no, you don’t want to get her started on that,” Lelia said.

“I’m sure it’s interesting!” Em insisted. “Like listening to you talk about emergency procedures for power generators.”

Lelia glared at her, but that was all the ammunition Izzy needed to launch into what she was studying in school.

Somewhere in between genetics and mage birth rates, Lelia realized that getting Izzy to talk about herself meant she wasn’t asking questions to Lelia and Em. Which had been Em’s plan all along.

[statticscribbles]

Cuddles

Summary: Sweet Pea/ Reader, Sweet Pea is super clingy

You haven’t met Sweet Pea. You’re not really sure if he’s actually a real person with how the rest of the Serpents talk about him. Cheryl had said he was stuck in in school suspension for the next two weeks which just added fuel to the fire that he wasn’t real considering it was only the first week of school.

You meet him almost a month later; halfway through the first semester. He’s glaring the entire time during class. You’d laugh if he didn’t look so scary.

Most of the Serpents still made you jump; you knew they had weapons on them pretty much at all times, they were fiercely defensive of each other; you knew if one of them mentioned someone on their bad side the entire gang would shun them. With how Sweet Pea stares at you you’re worried one day you’ll walk in and they’ll all turn their backs on you.

Instead he seems to stare more; which during one day at lunch turns to him talking to you. You’re so shocked you don’t actually respond right away instead stuttering and trying your best not to make a fool of yourself.

He offers you lunch and you’re a little confused as to where he’d gotten the pop’s bag but you assume it’s because he skipped class. You realize it’s actually just a makeshift lunchbox; that has a sandwich and orange shoved in it, so it doesn’t get damaged in his backpack. He doesn’t say anything as you take half the sandwich and he shakes his head again as you offer it back to him.

“I packed a spare; Jones said you were complaining you forgot your lunch; I was still at home; so I made extra.”

“Thank you, that’s really sweet.”

“No problem.” He chuckles a little bit and you can’t help but gasp.

“What? You think I can’t laugh?”

“No it’s just really cute sounding.”

Sweet Pea offers to bring you out to lunch and you think about getting a chance to hear his laugh again is worth any of the weird looks you get from the other people.

You’re the one laughing and Sweet Pea is smiling at you and when you catch him still smiling at you after you’ve finished laughing you realize there’s something better than his laugh; his smile.

It continues like that; you find little things, you fall more and more in love with him. How he has freckles along his shoulders. How one of his back teeth is sideways. How he has a birthmark on the back of his left leg.

You find out a week after the birthmark that he loves having his hair played with. You’d both been showering together but he’d been so tired after the job he’d actually sat down in the shower and you’d laughed and offered to wash his hair.

Sweet Pea seems like he’s getting more and more jobs; or at least he seems to be complaining about them more. Despite the money and security the jobs bring in you can usually catch him whining about some aspect of it. It takes you a week of downtime to discover he just hates leaving you.

You make sure to make up for him being gone as often as you can. You’ve come up with a routine that you both enjoy probably more than you should; another reason he always wants to take jobs.

You start by making sure both of you shower; it takes far longer than it should at it usually means you end up making out at the very least before either one of you has your hair washed. After that you get Pop’s or eat whatever leftovers are in the fridge.

After that you attempt to help each other get dressed which usually ends up with both of you on the bed, clothes forgotten on the chair or floor or sometimes in the bathroom.

When you usually end up getting dressed after that; in comfortable clothes, usually a stolen shirt of Sweet Pea’s you end up cuddling on the bed, Sweet Pea’s head tucked under yours as you play the big spoon before bed. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Sweet Pea cuddles more into you and you know he wouldn’t change it either.

Support My Writing?

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

outsider pov deancas, 2.4k, based after the good finale. for @bloodsigilsandpie <3

"it's happening."

natasha returns to the kitchen, her otherwise suppressed glee betrayed by the glint in her eyes as she declares to the entire room. "they're on a date."

chloe's the first to react, or rather, the spoons in her hand that promptly drop back into the foam are. "no way."

"way." farah rushes close to natasha, gushing. "did they tell you?"

natasha sniffs, depositing the plates in the sink with her back turned to her eager audience.

"do you think they told me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

"of course they didn't tell me. but i," she smirks. "i could tell."

"oh, you could tell." hutch repeats mockingly, and a few others snicker. "nat, we're talking about the trenchcoat dude who never smiles, and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy. no one has ever been able to tell anything with those two. and they don't look anything more than unlikely work friends to me either."

"unlikely work friends don't look at each other like that!" farah chastises immediately.

"fine. unlikely work friends with repressed homosexual urges from the 80's."

"hutch, if you're going to insult my date-dar, do it to my face!" natasha scowls, earning herself another eyeroll and a defensive palms-up gesture from the skeptic sous-chef.

"he literally just did." chloe mutters, ever the devil's advocate, before farah interrupts. she'd always been their resident 'trenchcoat dude who never smiles and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy' shipper. there tend to be one of those for all such couples the waitstaff discusses on the regular, really.

"so, how can you tell? what's different?"

"well for one," natasha grins. "trenchcoat dude's not wearing his trenchcoat."

a commotion of gasps come up from arguably most stations of the kitchen — even those who weren't a part of the discussion before.

"is it on the back of his chair? did car-guy help him take it off?" farah instantly pipes up, her eyes wide and hopeful. (hutch and her are the newest waiters, natasha remembers with a midge of distaste. sometimes it's too obvious.)

"no. it's nowhere in sight." she admits, eyebrows raised.

"maybe it ripped." that's hutch.

"maybe he finally realized that thing was doing nothing for him." dallas. everybody knows he's got a thing for trench coat dude though, so nobody bats an eye.

"maybe car-guy told him." chloe shrugs.

"hey, maybe somebody else did." hutch again.

"that's not the point." natasha butts in. "car-guy's better dressed too. i don't know much about old people fashion — chloe, if you don't stop looking at me like that — but i think ascots are supposed to be fancy."

"he wore a what —" several voices echo, and just then, freya enters the kitchen, beaming. (second year at the diner, loads of tattoos, and has a lovely girlfriend at the domino's across the street. natasha likes her.)

"you guys'll never guess what happened."

hutch and dallas sigh in unison, and farah giggles a little. "you won't guess what happened here either!"

"me first. trenchcoat dude and car-guy are on a date."

chloe snorts, picking up two prepared plates of food from one of the side chef's stations, and setting off out the door freya just entered from. important to find a job-gossip balance and all that.

natasha turns to the new informant. "what did you see?"

"car-guy asked trenchcoat what he wanted for dessert." freya beams.

"this just in, men can learn manners." hutch inputs before exiting with his own tray.

"car-guy might always order the pie but it looks mutual!" farah points out indignantly but he's gone already.

nevermind, he'll be back in five.

"and what did trenchcoat say?" natasha asks, ignoring the other two.

"milkshake," freya replies, writing it on a post-it as she says it.

"one shake, two straws." farah gasps. "come on, frey. tell me it was one shake, two straws."

"two shakes, two straws." she scribbles away.

"maybe they're gonna share both." farah quickly supplies.

"nobody does that, farah." dallas retorts, and natasha makes a face at him, not willing to kill the former's hopes just yet. farah tends to get this forlorn look on her face when things go wrong — and it always reminds natasha of her dead cousin.

she clears her throat.

"look, it can be a date without the shared milkshake, people." a few thoughtful sounds come up, the gates swing, and chloe walks back in. "plus, we've still got all the staring, the lingering looks over the menu, the soulful eyefu —"

"but that's everyday, nat." freya sighs.

"it's different today —"

"— you know it isn't —"

"— and i can prove it." natasha finishes, earning herself looks of surprise from almost everyone around. she can, though. the diner's got a valentines discount on milkshakes all month, she can approach them about it. trenchcoat and car-guy don't have to know it's not just for couples. and on the (really, really) offchance that they aren't one, natasha could always just minus the discount from the total anyway and no one would be the wiser.

the idea had just come to her but she was fairly sure she could swing it.

farah had already picked up a tray with two soup bowls and a dish of croutons, but she puts it down, and replaces the to-be-forlornness with excitement. "how?"

"i'll," natasha smirks again. "talk to them."

another round of gasps. in this kitchen, the people were nothing if not dramatic.

this time, freya's the one who asks, "how?"

"well, i haven't waitressed for twelve years just to go about rattling off trade secrets, kids." natasha winks, and a few of them make indignant noises because only about one third of the staff was what could broadly be called new. most of them had been there for years, and were practically a part of her family now. but she picks up her own tray smoothly, conveniently having been slid to her counter just then, and sets off — to an audience of hopeful believers (and dallas)'s matching stares.

(natasha isn't exactly free of the flair for drama she'd just accused everyone in this kitchen of.)

once outside, she makes a beeline for the table her tray is actually for, leaves them it, and quickly heads for the infamous trenchcoat and car-guy table.

this is so going to work.

"so then i cut his —" car-guy stops mid-sentence, spotting her. a part of natasha seethes to know what he 'cut off', but being fodder for the kitchenstaff's are-they-dating games didn't take away their rights to privacy, and she respected those. the car-guy smiles shortly at her. "what's the matter," his eyes flick down to her nametag, flick right back. (definitely a good sign; most men linger.) "natasha?"

she puts on her best smile. "it's about the milkshakes."

"is there a problem?" car-guy eases into a wider smile. "do you not have them, not a single one, and do we have to order pie instead?"

car-guy's partner shakes his head exasperatedly. "dean, i hardly think that's what she'd be here about."

"well, a guy's gotta dream." car-guy — dean — instantly says, and goes back to his burger while trenchcoat speaks up instead.

"what's the matter?"

natasha doesn't let her smile budge. it's a hell of a customer service smile, she's been told. "i actually came here to ask if you would like me to add the date dessert discount on the milkshake. it's an all-february thing. not on all items." she clarifies, a reflexive response for why it hasn't come up before.

genius.

dean looks a little cornered — trenchcoat just looks confused.

"i don't understand." he says, after a moment's pause. "the milkshakes cost less just if dean and i are here on a date...?"

"it's not —" she balks a little at his seriousness. "it's actually not that big of a difference."

"that's...alright." trenchcoat tilts his head, and natasha suddenly realizes she's physically fighting the urge to stare. shit, dallas isn't half-wrong. "but why just milkshakes?"

dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "capitalism trying to crap all over the free man's heart and the supremacy of pie not enough reason for ya, cas?"

natasha stifles a smile.

that's actually a good line. maybe car-guy deserves more credit than just loyal-to-the-pie.

trenchcoat — okay, cas, at least while she's out here — still looks a little doubtful (and she has no idea why) but he nods at dean, and then looks up at her and nods again. "add the discount."

natasha has to resist the urge to let her jaw drop.

this entire conversation, she'd practically been sure they were heading towards a rejection of the 'date' clause. and her gut told her they weren't lying either.

well, well. always thrilling to be right.

"and thank you for telling us about it." cas continues, and her practised smile returns immediately. probably a little less obligatory.

"of course."

and dean still looks like he'd rather cut more whatever-he-was-talking-about's off rather than be here right now, so natasha goes to leave. but cas stops her right before she's out of reach.

"excuse me." he's the one smiling this time. "if you're not busy right away, could you tell us what other items are eligible for the february date discount?"

dean facepalms. "come on, dude."

cas gives him a look — and natasha was right, of course she was right, that's not a exasperated 'friend' look. "i'd like to know, dean."

to natasha's knowledge, they've never had trouble paying for anything before (hernandez, she thinks one of their surnames is, she's seen it on a card) but she can't object to 'cas' asking, of course. curiosity is also a well-off man's right.

"why?" dean asks vehemently, before she can start to rattle off the list.

"because," cas answers levelly. actually, he kind of sounds like he's using his dad voice. maybe he is a dad. "i think it's strange that we've never gotten the discount before, while we've been eating lunch here almost this entire month."

it's again hard for natasha to not just stare gapmouthed at them.

"those have been dates." she realizes belatedly and out loud, and receives a weird, distasteful look from dean, and an immediate nod from cas that makes her blurt out, "so this isn't your...first date."

they're dating.

oh, farah was going to lose her mind.

"is that a requisite clause?" cas asks politely, while dean just scrubs his face with a hand.

"no." she tells cas truthfully. "i'm sorry, i just assumed it was. your first, i mean."

"lady, we certainly don't look first date aged to me." dean butts in, not hostile, but like it's something that irks him. "and we've been married four years, so one would desperately hope it's not our first date, y'know."

married.

they're friggin' married.

natasha is an idiot, and her date-dar is probably due for an early retirement.

they've been married for four years.

"i'm...very sorry." she apologizes, mortified. "i had no idea. i —"

"it's fine." this time, dean's smiling, and cas's confused frown is back. it's like they take turns. natasha is almost grateful for it, to be fair, because both those smiles directed at her would've been a helluva lot more distracting. "really doesn't matter. and yeah, sure, add the milkshake discount but don't worry about the list of items." he turns to cas. "just have sam look it up for you when we get home. please."

cas seems to be prepared to acquiesce to that but natasha can't help her own curiosity this time. "is that your son?"

and she's halfway to regretting it the moment she registers having said it, even though thankfully neither of them look too offended. in fact, cas is back to smiling.

"he's dean's brother." cas tells her. "he's the one with jack right now." he pauses. "it's easier because he and eileen live with us."

"yeah, an in-house sitter who doesn't even like going out is really a department we won in." dean grins, solely at cas. as if he's momentarily forgotten all about natasha's presence (that had clearly been making him uncomfortable talking in front of, earlier) in just looking at his husband. natasha sends out a quick pre-prayer for farah. "sucks for eileen though."

"eileen is very happy with your brother, dean." cas chastises, his eyes nothing but affectionate even then, and natasha's head reels with how much she has to tell the waitstaff today.

they're going to friggin' adore her.

"so jack is your son," she confirms, less wary of their reaction to her question now that they looked to have settled into their own silent conversation.

"he's our son, yes." cas replies, simply.

"like, you and him." she flashes a smile at dean.

"us and sam." cas corrects, and dean facepalms again. for her part, natasha can do little more than blink.

"but —"

"it's complicated." dean cuts her off suddenly, and she flinches. he didn't even deny it, just...sidestepped it.

"i — i see." natasha clears her throat, still looking at cas in bewilderment.

cas probably doesn't notice because he's talking to dean again. "it's significantly less complicated than claire's parentage, dean. she has over six parental —"

jesus christ.

"aaand that's enough trivia for date night." dean interrupts loudly again, definitely for the best, because natasha was standing there like a thoughtless statue at this point. his raised voice shakes her out of her reverie, and she vaguely calculates the chances of crashing into a table if she tried to walk away right away.

"i'll," she mumbles instead, drawing in a breath forcefully. "i'll be back with your milkshakes."

"thank you!" cas calls after her as she half wobbles on her heels back to the kitchen.

inside, she puts her empty tray on the metal counter and her hands on both sides of it, bowing her head, and almost immediately ending up surrounded by a plethora of people — most of whom, in normal circumstances, would just have been eavesdropping from their respective stations.

farah's the first to ask, followed by hutch.

"so?"

"what did you find out?"

natasha closes her eyes. "they're married."

this time, the commotion is the largest yet. but she isn't done.

"and every single one of their meals here have been dates." freya pumps her fist, chloe squeezes farah's hand, and dallas tsks under his breath. the 'gallery' watchers appear ready to join in the cheering as well today. but the entire kitchen senses she isn't done yet, and waits fidgetingly for the rest of it.

"and," natasha swallows. "they're almost definitely in a cult."

[mosswillow]

Hey I saw that your requests for headcanons are open so if it's not a problem for you I had this idea in my head on how would the Avengers react on reader having pierced nipples(I was thinking about Tony, Steve, Thor, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Bucky, Peter, Wanda, Vision, Dr Strange. If they are too much you can write whoever you want or if you have any idea for anyone else go fo it) And so like I had it in my head as if reader is kinda new in the team and now one really new that until one day she wore a crop top without a bra and they were showing. Like after a bath or in the morning right after she woke up, and the team isn't really fond of her so they aren't making any comments about it, just their thoughts. It's okay if you don't want to or can't write it but thank you in advanced

a/n- Oh my goodness. I wrote this whole fic (I know the ask was for a head-cannon but Inn this case a fic actually felt easier.) then came back to post and realized it's not what you asked for. 🤦‍♀️ I'm so sorry Anon, it's also been months I think that you've been waiting. They're supposed to not like her and it's all in their heads. I wrote it with them all reacting to it verbally, and they like her. Send another ask and lmk if you want me to redo this. I'm going to go ahead and release what I already wrote for now.

Here now - Steve Rogers x Fem reader. (plus a little bit of Tony, Sam, Thor, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Bucky, Peter, Wanda, Vision, and Dr. Strange.)

Warnings - dark(ish), 18+ adult content, nipple piercings.

They’re never up this late, or at least they haven't been since you moved in with them. You’re the new girl still and while they’re all kind to you, you don’t fit in. It’s like they’re a family. They have history together that you just don’t. They’ve been through so much together while you just kinda just fell into it. Literally.

Yeah sure, you have super strength but it’s not something you want. Unlike most of the others, your power was something you were born with. You’ve never wanted to be a hero, you just want to be normal.

One day you were walking home from work while watching some stupid cat tik tok. You tripped and fell into this guy, tanging together with him on the sidewalk. When you looked up the entire avenger squad was running your way. Then you noticed the blood. The guy was covered in it. He had this look in his eyes that felt off. You didn't think, just punched. Your fist collided with his face, giving a satisfying crunch before he could scurry away.

Captain America got to you first and to your surprise chewed you out for your recklessness, it was quite the out of body experience. According to him, you shouldn’t have been on your phone while walking. He didn’t even say thank you or anything for catching the guy. But oh, how it made you feel with him standing over you all big with his muscles and piercing blue eyes. You should have been offended by how he was treating you but instead found yourself turned on.

Knocking out an evil villain made you a target, or so you were told. Your options were to join the avengers or live knowing that someone would probably show up in your life and either kill you or turn you into a weapon. You didn’t have much of a choice but to go with them.

That was a month ago. Since then you’ve mostly tried to stay to yourself.

Today, or rather tonight, you crave ice cream.

The freezer is always filled with all sorts of treats so you’ve made a sort of routine a few nights a week where you sneak out and eat a dessert.

You plop a hefty spoonful of vanilla ice cream into a bowl and bring the sweet treat to your lips, moaning at how good it tastes. Someone coughs and you look up into dark brown eyes.

“Oh, sorry, was this yours?” you ask Sam.

“No, you’re good, keep going.” He says, smirking as he steps back and crosses his arms.

You pause for a few minutes trying to understand what’s happening.

“Where’s Cap?” he asks.

“I don’t know?”

“Woah,” Tony’s voice rings through the air. you look up to see the whole crew walking in sans Vision and his highness, Captain America.

They look at you like you’re naked or something and it makes you feel more and more uncomfortable. Then you realize that they’re not looking at you, they’re looking at your breasts.

Fuck.

You look down and remember you’re not wearing a bra. They don't know that your nipples are pierced, or didn't know. Now they do.

“Hey, what’s everyone doing in here?” Vision walks in and looks around, knitting his brow in confusion. He looks at your nipples but doesn't seem surprised. “I don't understand.”

“I’ll explain later,” Wanda says quietly.

“Apparently nobody here has seen a nipple piercing before.” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s just a surprise to come in here and see you showing them off in that little outfit. I should have known, the shy ones are always the ones with fun surprises.”  Tony says.

“You should have heard her moaning a few minutes ago,” Sam chimes in.

You should walk away but your feet won’t move.

“We’re looking respectfully. Wanda says.

“I’m looking a bit disrespectful.” Natasha says. “Sorry, ”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” Bucky asks.

“You can't ask that Buck.” Bruce chides.

“I think I’m going to go to my room.” You finally say, moving towards the hallway.

“You don’t have to leave. I’ve come across many women with piercings, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  Thor laughs.

“Yeah, don't leave, stay right there and moan more.” Clint adds.

“Well now she’s definitely going to leave,” Peter says, glaring at Clint. "and she was just starting to warm up to us. I'm tired of waiting for-" He's elbowed by Natasha.

“Children. Actual children.” Stephen sighs.

“Cap’s going to be pissed,” Tony says.

“Why?” you ask, stopping and turning around.

“She doesn't know,” Peter says.

“Know what?”

“He obviously has a thing for you,” Wanda rolls her eyes.

“So?”

“He’s old fashioned, doesn’t like anyone walking around barely clothed, let alone his girl. He gets jealous.” Bucky shrugs.

“We’re also not really supposed to have piercings,” Peter adds.

You slowly back away. “Ok, well this conversation was weird… let’s not do it again.”

You slink back into the hallway and almost reach your room when you’re pushed against the wall. You’re used to being able to push anyone off but Steve is even stronger than you. Warmth pools in your belly as you realize that you feel totally powerless for the first time in your life. Fuck, why does this turn you on so much?

“Did it hurt,” Steve whispers. He brings his fingers to a nipple and plays with it, making your knees go weak.

“When I got it, yes.”

“And now?”

“It… It feels good.”

“Good,” he purrs, groping at your breasts.

He reaches around you and opens the handle, pushing you in.

“You’ll have to get rid of them,” he says frowning.

Fire is ignited inside you.

“You can’t tell me not to get rid of them just because of your stupid sexism.”

“Oh, you misunderstand,” he says “I like them. If it was up to me you’d keep them,”

“Then why?”

“Combat and piercings don’t mix,” he shrugs.

“Piercings or not, don’t wear this outfit out of your room again,” he brushes a finger over one of the piercings. “And yes, I’m definitely being sexist.”

“I-” your breath hitches as he leans into your ear and takes a lobe in his mouth, “But you like it, don't you naughty girl?” He whispers.

You bite your lower lip and flutter your eyelashes. You should say something, anything. He backs off of you and opens your door.

“Welcome to the team,” he smirks before leaving.

[puredramione]

My 2020 Reading List - Dramione

This year, I’ve read way more dramione than I’ve ever read, and I’ve been reading it for 7 years now. I even read things, tropes, I had never bothered with before. 2020 may not have been a kind year, but in the dramione community it has been a wonderful year of reading for me. Please be aware I may spoil some plot lines to dramione fanfictions you haven’t read yet. I have tried not to as best as I can. But anyway below is 20 fics I’ve read this year that have been there for me when I needed them. No particular order. Just a lot of love for these fics.

Wait and Hope - by @mightbewriting - memory loss is one of my favourite tropes but this story. I have never cried over a couch before. But this story. From the moment she first awakes in St Mungo’s to that beautiful ending, I was hooked. I loved how the story left me with not really a care about whether or not Hermione got her memories back. Those bloody text messages 💔 a journey I’ll never forget.

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega - MrsRen - my first time reading anything omegaverse. It still isn’t my favourite trope. I much prefer Veela for some reason 🤷🏻‍♀️ but overall it was a good story, just not my thing.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - I actually gave up on this story the first time I read it. Unsure as to why because the story as a whole is just amazing. Baking and dramione? Yes please! Also dealing with their psychological trauma after the war? Heck yes! The relationship in this story develops at a lovely pace. There were moments I was on edge, others I was smiling ear to ear whilst reading this. Definitely one of my favourites now.

In Search Of Sunrise - @indreamsink - actually just reread this and I still get that warm feeling in my chest. So turns out my break up hasn’t made me lose the ability to enjoy dramione falling for each other. Anyway, the story was so heartwarming, like if I were to describe it as anything I would describe it as a hug. The best non-date fic there is.

Sex and Occlumency - Graendoll - this was the start of my slippery slope into reading smut stories. Like I had read smut before, obviously but I didn’t pay it much attention, normally just swiped past 😂 but this one was a completely different story.

Manacled - @senlinyu - this is truly the most beautifully haunting story I’ve ever read. I remember when I first started reading it, I thought to myself, how the hell could I ever ship dramione in this world? Then those flashbacks. Fuck those flashback chapters were a punch in the gut. The way everything links and connects. I love it’s realistic ending. I often think of this story in the shower cause I had to force myself to go shower whilst I read this cause I honestly couldn’t put it down. And SPOILER, but I laughed so hard at a certain characters death even though I probably shouldn’t have but she was such a bitch. I get flashbacks myself of this story. I’ll be in the shower and I’ll remember a certain sentence, a certain scene in my head as if I truly walked with Hermione on this heart wrenching journey. But fuck manacled Harry, I hate that boy.

He Becomes by @abromaposts - I needed this story. This was the first thing I read after Manacled. Draco Malfoy looking after rabbits with the sole reason being to get close to Hermione, yes please. Rabbits are my favourite animals. It’s just so much fluff. And after Manacled I was grateful.

The Right Thing To Do - @lovesbitca8 - this was the bookshop, slow burn, fluffiness I needed in the summer. The start of a truly wonderful universe. Idiots in love, I’ve never went through so much second hand embarrassment. Every interaction between Hermione and Lucius was fantastic. Especially the final one! Every character was written to a way that I loved them so much. Plus this story makes you think (like the rest of the series) it doesn’t spoon fed you information.

All The Wrong Things - @lovesbitca8 - I never thought I’d be into first person POV. The last thing I read like that was The Hunger Games back in school, many years ago. But I truly felt as if Draco were telling me the story. I love how it filled in things we never seen in the first story. I love Draco’s characterisation. Unlike TRTTD, this feels more lighthearted. Could just be the horny Draco though and his dramatics?

The Auction - @lovesbitca8 - this story. where do I start? When I started reading this story I was in a completely different life. This story has seen me through a terrible time in my life. Honestly the last few chapters before the final chapter were a blur and I had to go and reread them cause my head was all over the place but the story. This story, on it’s own, I would say is better than any fiction I’ve ever read 🤷🏻‍♀️ it grips you, pulls you in. Every question you ask, you get answered with a ribbon and bow. I cannot express my love, for this story and for the hard work that has went into it. The characters in this world so vastly different yet similar to the ones we already learned to love. I could write a love letter to this story.

Hindsight by @floorcoaster - if you haven’t been following this year long, monthly updated story, then you’ve really missed out. Each chapter is a month of the year. The story starts with Hermione planning to trim down her calendar for the year ahead. Although it’s fiction it gave me a sense of hope for my future. I had started this year on a different note than Hermione, and I’m now ending it on a different note as well. I think this story does a good job of capturing the passage of time and just how quickly things can change. I also really love these adorable idiots in this story.

Bring Him To His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets (WIP) - the best co-worker, friends to lovers, fake relationship story I’ve read. No question. I sent @magicaltraveler3 a tearful voice memo after that last chapter that was posted (chapter 20). It isn’t the first time I’ve cried at a fanfic, but it is the first time that I predicted something bad would happen, but I didn’t expect the bad thing to be what it was. I can’t wait to see where this story goes. At this point I have completely forgot about the murder plot. I know it exists, and we’ll get back to the murder but I’d honestly read the characters in this story eating breakfast.

The Flat In Bath by @adaprix (WIP) - this was the first story I got into that ada has wrote. Instantly I was fascinated with the use of “flat” over “apartment”. Being Scottish I knew this was someone British. Anyway, a very interesting story and I can’t wait to see how the rest of it plays out.

Good by @lovesbitca8 - I am dying for the update of this story. As so many are, it is 🔥🔥🔥 all I can say. I can’t wait for the update!

The Erised Effect by @adaprix - When ada first told me she was thinking about writing a story about Pansy and Hermione working in a sex shop together. Telling me about having the idea of them meeting in the pub and how she “needed to get some filthy smut out of your system”. I didn’t think it would be my thing. Boy, did she prove me wrong!

The Cell by WrathOfMacy - I don’t know how I came to read this one. But damn, this was a good one (who am I kidding they’re all good ones). I’m still reading through it though. It’s a warfic in which Dramione end up locked in a cell together. The relationship builds nicely. I cannot wait to read more of it.

The Melody Of Touch by @magicaltraveler3 - I never knew I needed a dramione story like this story. I love that there is so much musical imagery incorporated into it. I haven’t read anything like it before. The story, the smut, the taxi and the freaking art work. It is everything!

Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8 - I’ll be honest with this one. I read the first chapter and the last chapter 🙈 BUT only cause everyone scared me so much. I plan to revisit. SPOILER. I may not care too much that Hermione cheated. Just me? Like yeah I hate cheating and she shouldn’t have done it, but like she admitted to it, and was very regretful for it. Anyway, the chapters I read were very interesting I look forward to revisiting it sometime.

Away by @indreamsink - written for the romcom fest and I got to say I think this one may be my favourite from the fest. Not only do you get dramione but you get the amazing side pairing of Harry/Pansy, which this year has really became my favourite side pairing. It’s like reading two love stories at once, I was interested in the dramione plot line obviously, but I was equally interested in the hansy/potts&pans plot line.

The Path Unexpected by @magicaltraveler3 - this story is a cute little domestic dramione fanfic. And I lived for it. It shows dramione going through the process of having a child and honestly, they’re so damn cute in this fic. The fanart is next level also!

[disastercomingfaster]

Spilling Secrets (Bechloe Fanfiction)

Alright, so this is my first attempt at a fanfiction in...months, I think. Please go easy on me, I’ve been trying to get over my writer’s block and an awesome user named @lyricalmuse91 recommended I write a fanfiction based on the song “If You Love Her” by Forest Blakk and so I came up with this slightly angsty but also very fluffy fanfiction. Please enjoy! And if it’s not great, my apologies, hopefully this will get me out of my slump. Please know I am open for more requests in the future, just inbox me. 

Take it If she gives you her heart Don't you break it Let your arms be a place She feels safe in She's the best thing that you'll ever have

 “I’m in the room, yet all you can do is stare at your phone?” Chloe’s giggling voice snapped Beca out of the trance she was in.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Beca quickly swiped out of the page she was in and set down her phone.

Chloe grinned and made a grab for Beca’s phone. “What kind of porn were you looking at?” She teased.

Beca grabbed the phone and stood up. “Nope, nope!” She held the phone above her head.

Chloe burst out laughing. “Are you serious Mitchell?” She reached up and easily grabbed Beca’s phone. Beca blushed; Chloe was a good two inches taller. This had been a rookie mistake.

“Chloe, please don’t.” Beca let down her guard and pleaded with the red head.

Chloe looked at Beca in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Just please, give me back my phone.” Beca begged. Slowly Chloe handed her the phone.

“Whatever it was, you can tell me.” Chloe reminded her.

Beca sighed and shoved her phone back in her pocket. “Let’s talk about something else, please.”

Chloe sighed. “You always do this.”

“Do what?” Beca asked.

“You’re my best friend, and I feel like I know nothing about you.” Chloe told her. “I’ve told you everything about me, every detail about my life. But I only partially know you.”

“You know what matters.” Beca insisted.

“Do I?” Chloe asked, sitting back on the ground. “Do you not trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone.” Beca said impulsively.

“I didn’t think I was just anyone.” Chloe snapped.

Beca sighed and sat down next to the red head. She wrapped her arms and pulled her into a hug.

“You’re not just anyone.” Beca assured her. “I’m just…I’m just scared you won’t like what you see. I can’t lose you, Chloe.”

“Have you murdered anyone? Because I think I can handle anything else from you.” Chloe teased.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t killed anyone that mattered.” Beca teased back. Chloe gently smacked the younger girl’s hand and they both laughed.

 She always has trouble Falling asleep And she likes to cuddle While under the sheets She loves Pop songs And dancing, and bad trash TV There's still a few other things

 Beca pulled her keys out of her pocket, doing her best to not fall right asleep at the door. Somehow her group project had underestimated how long it would take to finish up their report. She hadn’t gotten out of the library until nearly midnight.

Beca pulled the front door open, trying to be as quiet as possible, only to be greeted by Chloe in her pajamas.

“Hey bestie.” Chloe waved.

“What the fuck are you doing up, hun?” Beca sighed. “Don’t you have class at seven tomorrow?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to watch some Jersey Shore reruns.” Chloe shrugged.

“Again?” Beca asked.

“I mean…” Chloe shrugged. “You know what always helps me fall asleep, right?”

Beca rolled her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Please, Beca?” Chloe pleaded.

Beca sighed. “Let me put my stuff down in my room and change, I’ll meet you in your room.”

Chloe was already comfortable in bed by the time Beca made it to her room. Beca rolled her eyes. “Move over, weirdo.”

Chloe grinned and made a space in bed for Beca to slide in. Beca wrapped her arms around Chloe.

“Thank you.” Chloe snuggled into Beca.

“I can’t believe you make me do this.” Beca complained.

“Oh, shut up. You love this just as much as I do.” Chloe laughed.

Beca rolled her eyes, but Chloe was partially right. Beca both loved and hated cuddling Chloe until she fell asleep. She hated in for the same reason she loved it.

She was in love with Chloe.

And Chloe had no idea.

 Take it If she gives you her heart Don't you break it Let your arms be a place She feels safe in She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you If you love her

 “So, you two are literally spooning almost nightly, but you can’t tell her you love her?” Jesse laughed and took a sip of his beer.

“I wouldn’t call it spooning.” Beca practically whispered, looking around the bar.

“No, it’s literally spooning.” Jesse said, not bothering to keep his voice down. “You are straight up friendzoned.”

“And you clearly can’t handle alcohol.” Beca said, grabbing his drink out of his hand.

“Hey!” Jesse protested.

“You can get this back when you stop being an asshole.” Beca said. “Which means you will probably never get it back.”

Jesse laughed and grabbed his drink. “Becs, she likes you. She needs you to help her fall asleep. That’s sickening and possibly adorable.”

“Yeah, and what if you’re wrong?” Beca snapped, taking a swig of her beer. “What if you’re wrong and I completely ruin our friendship and make things totally awkward?”

“You’re probably already making things awkward because you’re in love with her and you’re pretending you aren’t.” Jesse pointed out.

“God.” Becca groaned. “I hate it when you have actual points.”

Jesse winked and took another sip of his beer. “Look. Beca. She’s crazy about you. You two are together all the time and she has these desperate-looking googly eyes whenever you’re around. She’s into you. And it’s really gross, to be honest. Go for it, kid. What’s the worst that will happen?” Jesse laughed. “I mean, I told you I was hot for you and here we are getting drunk on a Tuesday night three years later even though you have absolutely no feelings for me.”

“I mean, that is a good point.” Beca admitted.

“Just go for it, Becs. You hold everything in, why not try trusting people every now and then?” Jesse took anther chug of his drink. “How about the next round is on me?”

“Sounds good.” Beca finished her drink. “I think I’m going to need it.”

  Kiss her with passion As much as you can Run your hands through her hair Whenever she's sad And when she doesn't notice How pretty she is Tell her over and over So she never forgets

 “You’re doing that thing again.” Chloe’s voice interrupted Beca’s thoughts.

“What?” Beca asked, locking her phone.

“Beca, something is clearly going on with you.” Chloe insisted.

“Just drop it, Chloe.” Beca insisted, shoving her phone in her pocket.

“We’ve been best friends for over three years. I’ve told you every stupid thing about me but now something is clearly going on that you think I can’t handle hearing about and you’re keeping me in the dark!”

“It’s complicated.” Beca muttered, avoiding eye contact with the red head. To tell Chloe what was going on with her phone could easily lead to Beca sharing she had feelings for the red head which could lead to Chloe never speaking to her again.

“I’m listening.” Chloe said, taking Beca’s hand. Beca bit her lip, trying to control the rush of emotion that went through her.

“I can’t-”

“Beca, if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. I just want to make sure my relationship with you works on both sides. It can’t just be me sharing to you, me complaining to you. I want you to feel like you can trust me, hun.”

“Michelle’s pregnant!” Beca burst out.

“Michelle?” Chloe asked. “Who’s Michelle, Becs?”

“She…we dated…we had plans and we were…” Beca sighed. “It doesn’t matter. She moved on…and I mean I guess I should have by now, and I thought I did…it was high school for Christ’s sake…but I mean, we were going to get married and…fuck, I’m pathetic…”

“Beca, you don’t have to judge how you feel.” Chloe squeezed her hand.

“I was crushed years ago and now I’m…I’m this.” Beca laughed.

Chloe laughed. “And what’s wrong with this? I think this is pretty cool.” Chloe squeezed Beca’s hand. They both stared at each other for a moment. “I think ‘this’ is perfect.” Chloe whispered.

Before Beca knew what was happening, Chloe had pressed her lips against Beca’s. Beca immediately pulled Chloe closer.

“You…you wanted…you also…?” Beca sputtered out in-between kisses.  

Chloe pulled away and giggled. “Honestly, this is what I thought you were hiding.”

“I mean, it was.” Beca laughed. “But I thought if I shared anything all my feelings would just pour out.”

“I knew you were just a big softie under all that attitude.” Chloe giggled, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Hey! Beca Mitchell is no softie!” Beca laughed and put her lips back to Chloe’s.

“Wait, wait!” Chloe pulled away. “Does that mean you trust me now?”

Beca laughed. “Chloe. I always trusted you. And I was so, so fucking scared if I told you the truth, I would lose you. And I don’t know what the hell I would do without you, Chlo.”

Chloe grinned and kissed Beca. “I’ll make sure you’ll never have to find out.”

 On days when It feels like the whole World might cave in Stand side by side And you'll make it She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you If you love her like that

[crowfootwrites]

The Boyfriend | Part II [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader]

Y'all! I did it! I wrote a second part! I actually sort of struggled with the setup of this, but once I started writing the angry, angsty shit I was like, "OH, WE IN BUSINESS." So, please enjoy.

Warnings: language; family drama (arguing); attempted physical violence; pregnancy | Words: 1,734

Part I of The Boyfriend

“What do you mean he wants to come see your motorcycle?” you asked, panic rising in your voice. It had been a few months since the ill-fated family dinner, and aside from a few texts asking about work, you hadn’t heard from your father. So, you assumed his motorcycle chat with Taza had just been polite conversation.

Taza glanced at you across the kitchen table, his full fork of frijoles pausing halfway to his mouth. His eyes softened when he saw the concern in your expression.

“Relájate, mi amor (Relax, my love). He doesn’t have to come here. I can meet him somewhere else,” he said calmly. He watched as your head dropped into one of your palms on the table and the other rested on the top of your very noticeable baby bump. He paused, then put his fork back down on his plate.

“(Y/N), maybe this would be a good opportunity to tell them,” he started, keeping his tone gentle. “I know you don’t want them involved. I understand that, and I will do whatever I can to keep things the way you want them.” He reached across the table to rest his palm against your knuckles. “But the baby will be here in a few months, and hiding it from them is just drawing out the inevitable.”

Emotions rushed over you. You knew that telling them didn’t have to mean anything more than that; Taza would protect his family no matter the cost, and if you didn’t want them involved, they wouldn’t be. But the prospect of having to deal with your mother filled you with a deep-seated dread. You knew she wouldn’t approve. And you didn’t need her approval, but your relationship with her had always been messy and complicated. And some part of you still wanted her to accept and respect you. Angry tears sprang to your eyes, which made you even more frustrated – the pregnancy hormones made you feel like you were losing your mind.

A tear dripped onto the wooden surface of the table and Taza was immediately out of his seat, tugging you out of yours and wrapping you in his arms. He smiled at the feeling of your belly pressed between the two of you.

“Hey, abejita, está bien (little bee, it’s ok). We don’t have to do anything that will make you uncomfortable,” he murmured against your ear, rocking you side to side slowly. He rubbed circles on your back as you regained your composure.

“No, you’re right,” you said with a sniffle. “We need to get this over with.”

Taza’s lips pulled into a wry grin. “That’s a wise choice, I think.”

***

“Ok, I think everything’s pretty much ready,” you told Taza as you flipped the final tortilla on the comal. He came to stand beside you and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“How can I help?” he asked as you pulled the tortilla off with your bare fingers and tossed it into the basket, waving your fingers as the heat sank into your skin. He laughed and gripped your hand, blowing gently on your scorched fingertips.

You couldn’t help the affectionate tears that collected in the corners of your eyes. In an effort to keep you as comfortable as possible, Taza suggested hosting dinner with your parents on the ranch. You would be on your own turf and could call the shots. If anything got ugly, Taza promised that he had no qualms with making your parents leave. To your modest relief, you also felt a little more like yourself today, like you’d happily tell someone where to shove it if they upset you.

“Just being here with me helps,” you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said quietly. The two of you lingered like that for a moment, enjoying the calm embrace before the storm you knew was about to happen.

And sure enough, a moment later, the doorbell sounded. Your eyes jerked immediately to Taza’s. You struggled to discern if the rolling in your stomach was pregnancy-related or anxiety-induced as perspiration collected on your palms.

He ushered you onto the back patio, helping you to sit in the worn wooden rocking chair before heading back inside to welcome your guests. You listened nervously for the creaking of the front door, which was quickly followed by the drifting voices of your mother and father.

You pulled yourself out of the chair, straightening the soft cotton of your dress over your bump, just as Taza stepped through the door. He came immediately to your side, schooling his features into a calm and neutral mask, tossing an arm around your shoulders. Your father was the next through the door and you bit back a grin at the series of emotions that passed over his face in the span of just a few seconds. Confusion, certainly, and shock, but then pride and excitement and finally, unbridled joy.

Time seemed to slow down as your mother stepped towards your father, her confused gaze traveling from your father’s face to you, eyes widening as they landed on your belly. For the first time in your life, your mother was speechless. She stood on the threshold of the patio door with her mouth open as your father rushed towards you.

“Oh, my baby girl!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a loose hug around your bump, kissing your cheeks delightedly. He turned immediately to Taza, pulling your boyfriend into a strong embrace, clapping him heartily on the back.

“Congratulations, you two! This is wonderful news! Oh, goodness, I’m going to be a grandfather!” he announced in wonderment as he pulled back, turning to his wife, whose eyes were still glued to your stomach.

“Dear?” he asked her, cautiously, but with a hint of something firm in his voice. It was something you had never heard from your father before. You wondered fleetingly what that was about.

His voice seemed to snap her out of her trance. Her eyes met yours and she smiled tightly. “Congratulations,” she forced out and you noted acrimoniously the clenching of her jaw.

Your eyes narrowed. Your heart sank with her false smile and immediately, resentment scrambled into place to protect you. You suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to haul off and smack her, but you quickly chalked that up to hormones. Probably.

Intent on making this a pleasant evening for your completely delighted father, you turned away from your mother with a withering look and plastered on a smile, motioning for everyone to take a seat at the table laden with food you had spent most of the day preparing.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Taza sat beside you, his hand never leaving its reassuring place on your thigh, as the two of you answered your father’s abundance of questions.

Baby Romero is due in November.

We’ve decided to wait to find out the sex.

We don’t really have a preference as long as they’re healthy.

Your mother’s eyes bore holes into you, but she remained silent, except for one question, manifested tersely into the space between the four of you. “Are you going to get married?”

“We haven’t really talked about it,” you replied, surprising even yourself with the strength in your voice. Your mother blinked at you, her expression disappointed, but she said nothing, returning her gaze to her plate.

When everyone had finished eating, your father clapped his hands together and asked Taza if they could take a peek at his Harley.

Taza turned to you, searching your eyes. “¿Estarás bien a solas con ella (Will you be ok alone with her)?”

You nodded at him with a wily smile. “Yo sé dónde están todos los cuchillos en esta casa (I know where all the knives are in this house).”

A loud, deep laugh belted from Taza’s chest as you stood and began collecting plates. You could see him shaking his head out of the corner of his eyes, motioning your father towards the garage.

You were standing in front of the sink, rinsing dishes when you heard the clicking of heels behind you, your mother coming to stop across the counter. You waited with bated breath for the inevitable confrontation, your stomach in knots.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked finally, a bitter edge of hurt creeping into her voice.

You looked down into the sink, realizing you were white-knuckling a spoon. “Why would I?” you demanded. “The last time I saw you, you made it very clear that you don’t approve of Che.”

“I just want what’s best for you!” she insisted, her hands clenching by her sides.

“You don’t know what’s best for me! I’m not you!” You slapped the faucet off and grabbed a kitchen towel to violently dry your hands, coming to face your mother completely. You watched as her eyes flickered quickly to your belly and then back to your face, the sight seemingly fueling her fire.

“I do know that you have no business having children out of wedlock with a man who’s twice your age,” she snapped, stepping closer to you, and your body reacted to the perceived threat, your heart thundering against your ribcage, heat radiating from your face.

“You don’t get to make those decisions for me! Che is the best partner I’ve ever had and he’s going to be an incredible father. Which you would know if you even gave him a chance, but you won’t. You refuse to accept that this is my life, and I’ll live it however the fuck I want!” You could hear your volume rising, but you were beyond controlling it. By the end of your rant, you were screaming, inches from your mother’s furious face, her eyes glinting and her lips set into a scowl. Suddenly, Taza was running into the house and coming to a stop behind you, pulling you gently away from your mother while your father tugged your mother away from you.

“I can’t believe I raised such an ungrateful bitch,” your mother spat, and you swung. Luckily for your mother, Taza had pulled you out of reach, and your fist missed her by several inches.

“Get out of my house!” you hissed, struggling against Taza’s arms, angry tears staining your cheeks.

Your father, looking appropriately mortified, dragged your mother out of the front door and into their car.

Part III of The Boyfriend

[balkanradfem]

Since you all responded very kindly to my garden struggles, I'll write a post about a difference I experienced planting into the wild field, vs planting in my garden.

So the field I was planting in belongs to the plant lady, and it was let to grow wild for the last 2 years, so I asked her if I could use it to plant stuff, and she said yes. All the fields around it were big ass corn fields. Plant lady's field wasn't filled with grass, but with very invasive weeds, native plants, recovering berry shrubs, wild blackberries, and spikey, woody weeds that actually hurt to touch. Kinda like wild lettuce, but worse.

So, at first I only planned to plant a few broccoli plants, and maybe potatoes, so, in the early spring, before all the weeds were up, I put up a few layers of newspapers and dry leaves, to stop weeds from growing, and create a good topsoil. That kind of thing worked great in my garden.

In the field? The weeds laughed at me. They grew as if I didn't put anything there at all. I came to check it out a month later and they broke thru my layers like it was a joke. But I'm persistent, so I pull them out (with a lot of difficulty, they were growing deep!), plant my broccoli, haul a bucket of water from the nearby river, promptly fall into the river, water my broccoli. I leave satisfied, with half of my clothes soaking wet.

Come back in a few weeks. The weeds are again right there. Also, slugs are now eating my broccoli. I'm still stubborn so I clear that stuff out, throw away the slugs and soldier on. A month later that place looked like I haven't planted anything at all. Weeds and slugs simply took their space back and mocked me.

Then I found lots of garlic that was self-seeded and it was growing in clumps, I decided to re-plant it so each one has a decent growing space. I was doing this using a spoon as I still don't own any garden tools. Then the plant lady lent me a hoe to try out, and that made my work much easier! For a while I felt invincible with how fast I could work the soil with it, it was a powerful feeling.

I figured I picked the worst spot with my broccoli, and I started working some more tame patches of land to plant zuchinni and potatoes. I planted a lot of winter squash, cucumbers, cantaloupes, carrots, only to find out that none of that will germinate whatsoever and I had to plant it inside and make transplants instead. Except for carrot, carrot outright refused to grow in the field. I raised my transplants and tried again, and to my delight, the cucumbers grew! Zuchinni also grew, even just from seed, and since it was the first thing to germinate, I had a lot of little seedlings to separate, so I ended up with about 10 plants. Which proved absolutely vital for my summer.

Oh and all of that stuff grew in my community garden like. 2x faster. Garden simply had better soil. But, way less planting space.

I also planted beans and ground cherries out in the field, hoping to get a big harvest of both.

During the summer, I had constantly tried to clear more of the field out, to ressurect previously destroyed berry bushes, and every time I was overwhelmed with how much work it took only to stop weeds regrowing around my edibles. My garden didn't do that, the mulch would stop 80% of the weeds from growing and it took next to nothing to maintain. The field was constantly striving to go back to the wilderness. I couldn't even touch the weeds with my hands, so I wore gloves for weeding, and I only used the hoe if I really had to, because I didn't want to risk hurting the wild edible plants. I found lots of edible plants!

Mint, cleavers, goldenrod, lemon balm, all kinds of medicinal flowers were growing there; I noticed a specific flower plant held many ladybugs in it, and bees were always buzzing around the field in abundance. The field was the only source of food for all of these bugs because all other fields were monocrops and functionally worthless to the wildlife. What were the bees supposed to eat in a dead field that was tilled only for corn? Sadly, this also meant all the slugs were in my field too. And then, the drought hit.

I didn't want to pull any weeds during the heat waves, not only because I was exhausted, but because the weeds hold moisture, they keep water close to the ground, create dew every morning, and every drop of water counted. They weren't getting bigger anyway, so I left them to maintain moisture. Sadly, creating even a slightly wet environment made the slugs go wild. I couldn't get rid of them, because I can't kill any, and regardless of where I threw them, they simply had no other food source in the area, my garden was the only choice. So the beans got sacrificed to the slugs.

On a positive note, I got tons of zuchinni. Zuchinni was my all-time star, it grew so well, gave me so much produce, kept producing all summer, was my main source of food because I was canning everything else. I based all of my cooking on zuchinni recipes and I had a delicious summer. Cucumbers also did great! I managed to can them as well. Potatoes failed completely. Garlic was small bulbs but I loved and appreciated it. Winter squash produced only 2 tiny little pumpkins, which I still carefully saved for the winter. Ground cherries produced only one little jar of jam, which I am still immensely proud of. Every single time I walked out of that field with some food in my bag I was bursting with accomplishment.

So in the course of the summer, I still did fall into that river a few times, but I also went swimming after gardening, and that felt great. I felt like I was living in the old world, dragging buckets of water up over a steep riverbank. I realize now that expecting myself to manage all that work during summer, while still tending my other garden, was a bit too much. It wasn't even that close to where I lived.

I think, if I manage to get a land with a river, and it's my primary source of water for the garden, I'd figure out a system of ropes to pull out the bucket without going down myself, and I'd build a little path, so I could drag the bucket on an old skateboard or anything that has wheels. Then, it would become manageable.

I will absolutely need to tame wild conditions into gardens in the future, and it was good to have a taste! It was a lot of work, but all of it has brought me valuable experience; I now know that zuchinni and cucumbers will grow easily in extremely hot conditions, I know not to plant potatoes where I can't water them if there's drought (or, plant them earlier! My potatoes in the garden did amazing but they were planted in March! Field potatoes got planted in April-May), I know not to plant beans in wild conditions where they're unprotected, I know winter squash needs more care and richer soil to grow, I know ground cherries, okra, cantaloupes and peppers will inevitably get damaged by a drought. I was actually still hopeful to get more produce out of cantaloupes, ground cherries, beans and peppers, but as soon as they started recovering from the drought, the unexpected first frost sent them over the edge and they all sadly died. It was a bit sad, but still a good way to manage expectations around these plants.

Garden brought me enough tomatoes, onions, garlic and spices to create a good winter stash, and field brought me enough zuchinni, cucumbers and wild plants to eat all summer. It's very reassuring that even if some plants fail, another type will just thrive in hot weather. If you're someone from a tropical or hot region, and you grow food, please tell me what grows well for you! I might be in for another drought next year, and I want to be ready for it.

[escapewithbts]

“Just Benefits?”(Part One) - Jungkook

————————————————

You stretched out your arms and shielded your tired eyes from the morning sunlight peaking through the curtain. Upon sitting up you noticed the space in the bed next to you was empty. You wrapped the sheet closer around your almost naked body as it had gotten colder without another human lying next to you radiating warmth. You rubbed your eyes and yawned before grabbing your phone from the nightstand. An array of text messages were waiting for you.

7:34am From Jungkook: Hey y/n

7:34am From Jungkook: Sorry I’m not there, I had an early meeting

7:34am From Jungkook: Stay as long as you like

7:45am From Jungkook: Also I just want to say I had a good time talking with you last night

You locked the phone without responding and pulled off the covers. Then you got out of the bed and searched the floor for something to put on over your underwear. You only had jeans and a blouse, so you opted for Jungkook's oversized black t shirt from last night and a pair of his shorts. They were massive on you but you were comfy. You picked up your pants and shirt off the floor and folded them neatly on the bed as memories from the night before appeared in your mind;

8:10pm from Jungkook: I had such a rough day. Want to come over?

8:10pm to Jungkook: I’m at work

8:11pm from Jungkook: Ok, after?

8:11pm to Jungkook: Sure. I’m off at 10.

8:12pm from Jungkook: I’ll be at the dorm, text when you get here so I can buzz you in

You sighed and clicked off your phone. This was the third night this week he asked you to come over and it was only Wednesday. You weren't necessarily complaining, it was better than going to your own apartment where you lived alone, but you couldn't help but wonder why he was asking so much.

You guys kind of had an unspoken arrangement; to spend the night at each other's places when the other felt stressed or in need of companionship. You would have sex, of course, sometimes cuddle a little bit after, and then go on about your days the next morning.

You had met through one of your close friends, Kim Namjoon. He was in the same band as Jungkook, the famous k-pop group BTS. You had known Jungkook through RM for years now, you wouldn't have said you were friends, but you were always friendly and liked hanging out with him in a group. This part of your relationship with Jungkook however was relatively new.

It had all started one night when you were hanging out at their place with all of them, watching movies and drinking... maybe a little too much. All the other guys had gone to bed, leaving you and Jungkook alone and tipsy. Jungkook had always been shy, just like you, so when the two of you ended up kissing on the couch it took you both by surprise. One thing lead to another and before you knew it you were both naked in his bed. The sex was good, no great, so great in fact that you both knew you wanted to keep having it. And that's what lead you to this unspoken agreement you had. That first time was months ago now, and the two of you hadn't even talked about the future, nor the present for that matter. You were enjoying each other's company and not putting any kind of label on it... but you knew that always seemed to end up in a mess.

After work, you drove straight to the boy's dorm, notifying Jungkook of your arrival via text. You pressed the call box and waited for the front door to open. Jungkook answered after just a few seconds. He was wearing an oversized black t shirt and boxers, his long black hair was tousled about his head, and his dark brown eyes looked tired, his cherubic face slightly puffy. You had to admit, he looked very sexy, yet also adorable, and it caused you to feel butterflies in your stomach. You ignored them.

  "y/n..." his big smile and your name in his soft voice made your knees weak, "I'm glad you're here."

You smiled at him slightly.

  "Is anyone else home?" you asked quietly.

  "Jimin and Namjoon-hyung, but they're asleep."

You nodded in response and he stepped closer to you, pinning you against the now closed front door. He wrapped his long arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck, kissing your weak spot. It made you moan. How could he do that so quickly? You felt him smile against your skin and it sent a shiver down your spine.

  He took your hand and lead you down the hallway to his bedroom. It was basically a routine now. As soon as he shut the door, you were pulling off each other's clothes, kissing passionately between each layer removed. You never got tired of looking at him naked; his perfectly toned arms and thighs, his six pack and deep v hip muscles, the sleeve of tattoos that lined his hand and arm. He had a beautiful body, and that was something you had no problem admitting to yourself.

For being the youngest member in the group, he sure knew what he was doing. He was extremely shy on the surface, but that all disappeared in bed.

When you both had finished (you multiple times thanks to Jungkook), he laid down behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist and the other under your head, like a big spoon and little spoon. He lazily ran his fingertips along your bare side and it gave you goosebumps.

  "You've asked me here a lot this week," you stated matter-of-factually.

You felt him sigh softly.

   "Yeah, work's been kind of tough."

You traced the purple heart tattoo on his hand with your finger gently, then moved to the ARMY symbol to do the same.

   "I'm sorry."

You wanted to know more, but you didn't want to pry.

He sighed again and buried his face in your messy hair.

   "Your hair smells so nice." he said muffled.

You smiled.

  "Thanks."

There was a pause before he spoke again.

"Plus, I like having you here. In my bed."

That made your heart skip a beat, but you had to ignore it.

"I like being in your bed." you replied shyly.

He scooted himself closer to you, if that was even possible, so close that you could feel his pounding heart in the middle of your back.

"Um.. h-how was your day?" he questioned.

The two of you didn't usually talk much after, hardly at all actually, but this was nice.

"It was okay. Just went to work. Pretty uneventful," you shrugged, "How was yours?"

Jungkook removed his arm from under you and turned so he was lying on his back, his arm resting under his head. You did the same.

"Aishh, it was okay. It's been a little stressful lately. It's different with everything that's been going on. We haven't even really experienced anything like it, obviously."

You nodded in understanding.

"But.. you still enjoy it?" you couldn't help but wonder out loud.

He ran a hand through his messy hair.

   "Yes, I love it. I get to work with my 6 hyungs every day. But..." he paused, "It's hard sometimes, too. We are constantly busy, constantly booked. Album after album, performance after performance, always filming something, doing press, shooting videos... it can be a lot. We're coming out with a new album in a few weeks, as I'm sure Namjoon-hyung has mentioned, so we've been trying to put on the finishing touches. It's a great album, I was able to write a lot of it and share my ideas and we're really proud. But there are other things I want to do, too."

  "Like what?"

He scrunched his face in thought for a moment.

  "Release my solo mixtape. I've been working on for literally years. It hasn't felt good enough, but maybe I'm also too picky. And direct more videos. I like directing a lot. I love taking photos and videos, especially of the people and things I love. So I don't know... stuff like that."

He shrugged.

  "I'm sure you will find time," you tried reassuring him.

  "Sometimes it feels like there isn't enough time in the world."

He paused before turning his head to you.

  "Sorry, for ranting about it," he blushed shyly, but gave you a shy smile.

You smiled back.

  "I don't mind."

He stretched out his arm, creating in opening between his shoulder and upper arm. He patted the space above the pit of his arm with his other hand.

"Do you... want to lay your head here?" he asked cautiously, hoping it wasn't too bold of a move to ask.

You nodded slowly and moved closer to him, resting your head in the nook he had made, laying your arm across his chest. You felt nervous, as this wasn't a position you two had ever laid in before. You couldn't believe how well you seemed to fit together, and how warm and comfortable he was. You closed your eyes and felt the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. It made you sleepy.

"Thank you for coming over tonight." he mumbled, kissing your forehead softly.

"Mmmhmm..." you responded sleepily.

He caressed your hair gently over and over, lulling you to dreamland.

Before you were completely out however, you heard him say,

"I wish you'd just stay over every night..."

You left Jungkook's room and was met with the bright sunlight coming in through the large windows that looked over the city of Seoul. You desperately needed some coffee so you made your way into the large kitchen.

"I thought I saw your car here when I left for my bike ride this morning!"

Namjoon's back was turned toward you upon you entering the kitchen, but he still noticed your sudden presence. He was pouring coffee grounds into the machine preparing to make a pot.

"Good morning, Joonie," you responded groggily.

You pulled out a stool from under the kitchen island and sat down, leaning your arms on the countertop.

"And how was your night with our golden boy JK?" he asked teasingly.

You blushed. You had told Namjoon when you guys had first started hooking up, but it was still kind of embarrassing having everyone know about it.

"It was fine..." you mumbled back, fiddling with your fingers.

Namjoon turned around and you were met with his dimpled smile.

"Ahhh, I can't believe our maknae is all grown up... and with one of my best friends nonetheless!" he chuckled, "Life sure is weird."

You rolled your eyes at him.

"I wouldn't say he's with me exactly," you corrected him.

He cocked his head.

"No? Then what would you call it?"

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact with your friend.

"I'm not sure..."

He stared at you in disbelief.

"You guys have talked about it at least, right?"

Your silence was all the response he needed.

"Oh my god, (y/n), come on!" he threw his hand up to his forehead and ran it through his brown hair.

"What, Joonie?" you protested, "It's not exactly an easy conversation to have."

"Well of course not, but it's a conversation you should have."

You sighed. You knew he was right.

He leaned in front of you, placing his elbows in his palms.

"He likes you, (y/n)."

You scoffed.

"No, no," you waved your hands in disagreement, "he doesn't. Not like that."

He raised his eyebrows.

"He's constantly asking me about you, (y/n). Wondering what you're up to, what things you like, how he should respond to you."

You looked at him in surprise.

"He is?"

Your heart started racing.

"Yes," he continued, "You're older than him so it's intimidating. I think he's worried about saying the wrong thing, or coming off too strong towards you."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Why hadn't Namjoon told you this before? Were you that unobservant that you hadn't noticed Jungkook had feelings for you? Or was Namjoon exaggerating? Your mind was racing. You put your head in your palms and rubbed your face, overwhelmed with this new information. You groaned.

"I'm sorry, (y/n) I thought you two had talked about it." he paused, "So what are you then... like friends with benefits?"

You shook your head and shrugged.

"I-I don't know... just benefits?"

It was Namjoon's turn to groan.

"Ahhhhh shit, that never ends well."

"Well what do I do, Namjoon-ah?" you asked in concern.

He thought for a moment.

"Do you like him?"

You felt your stomach flop. It was a question you had been avoiding asking yourself. And now here was Namjoon asking you for an answer.

You ran a hand through your hair.

"I really don't know..."

And that was the truth. Though you had idea of the answer, you weren't sure you were ready to admit it to yourself... or anyone else for that matter.

"Well, I encourage you to try and figure it all out," he stood up straight and turned to grab two mugs out of the cupboard, "I love you and I love Jungkook-ah, I really don't want to see either of you get hurt."

"Yeah..." you agreed quietly.

He poured both you a cup of coffee then opened the refrigerator.

"Now, what should I make us for breakfast?"

[moldisgoodforyou]

the screenplay

hello i am splitting these up tried to put them together but wasn't working

one scene wonder !!

wordcount: 2k short n sweet

________

Sophie had been begging for months now to see the project Rafe had been working on for one of his classes, especially with how often he added to it. He was constantly jotting down notes in his phone when he thought of something to add - at dinner, when they were hanging out, or the second he’d wake up. He’d always shift to the side whenever she tried to peer over and see the screen, nudging her aside.

All she knew was that it was for his screenwriting class in his minor that he took in the spring, and she swore she’d never seen him so invested in school before. He kept editing it after the class finished, working on it a little throughout the summer, but finished it before he went out to see Sophie in Spain.

When they were back to school in mid-August, she’d mainly forgotten about it - until the end of the month, when he strolled into her room and dropped a bound stack of papers on her desk.

She glanced up from her planner, confused. “Hello to you too, Rafe Cameron. Did I know you were coming over?”

“No, I invited myself. It’s done.”

“It?” She picked up the papers and read the first page. It read “UNTITLED,” BY RAFE CAMERON. Once she realized, she lit up, grinning at him. “Is this what I think it is?”

He flopped onto her bed and locked his fingers behind his head, glancing over with a grin. “Dunno, what do you think it is?”

“Your screenplay? Can I read it?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. It’s only twenty minutes or so, just a short film, so don’t expect too much, but.” He shrugged. “You can read it.”

She beamed and moved to the bed to read, facing the opposite of him. As she read, he was buzzing with nervous anticipation, trying to look over when she laughed or grinned at the page, or when she bit her lip - she’d just nudge him away to finish it. When she finished, setting the papers down, she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?” He asked eagerly.

Sophie beamed, nodding slowly. “It’s familiar.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at being caught. “Is it?”

“I mean -” She laughed, running her finger over the main girl’s name, Sloane. “If you were trying to be more subtle, you probably wouldn’t have used my middle name here. Where’d the guy’s name come from?” She cocked her head curiously, hoping to make him blush yet again.

“Uh.” He scratched his head, giving her a sheepish smile. “My middle name’s Asher, actually.”

A grin spread across her face, slowly. “You told me you had no middle name.”

“No, you asked if I had a middle name, and I said no. I have two. Asher and Clifford. Clifford’s my mom’s maiden name.” He corrected, fishing out his driver’s license and handing it to her, with Rafe A. C. Cameron on it.

She glanced it over, then glanced back at him with a teasing smirk. “Rafe Asher Clifford Cameron. That is the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard -”

“Hey!” He nudged her shoulder. “Watch it, that’s your boyfriend you’re talking to.”

“My boyfriend, who wrote our love story into a screenplay.” She beamed as he blushed even harder. His character had confessed his crush on the girl to his friends much sooner than she began to give way, something she’d always suspected for a while, but never confronted him about it.

He tapped the bound pages again. “Did you make it to the end? You missed my favorite part.”

“Yeah, I finished reading…” She furrowed her brow and flipped back through to what she thought was the end, then one page further. There was a dedication inscribed to her in the middle of the page: “inspired by a true story. for my favorite.” She bit her bottom lip hard, tearing up a little.

“Oh. Rafe.”

“Is that okay?” He took the screenplay out of her hands, gently setting it aside, and rolled on top of her to kiss her, slow. “I know it’s kind of cheesy, and you don’t really do cheesy. But I figured you played a part in this just as much as I did, so I wanted to give you some credit.”

“It’s perfect.” She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, smiling as she kissed him back. “My sweet boy.”

“Keep your voice down, you’ll ruin my rep.” He joked, laughing when she scowled and bit his lip gently in retaliation. “Hey! Hey, play nice.”

“Did you get an A?” She asked, kissing him again with a little more heat behind it. “Can I keep it?”

“Not sure yet. Yeah, I bound that copy for you, it’s all yours.”

“It’s really good, Rafe. I’m serious. I know I don’t know about movies like you do, but the writing, the directions - I’m really impressed.” She complimented, loving the way he looked away out of embarrassment and blushed red. “You only started this in April or something, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” He lied, rolling off of her to look up at the ceiling when she narrowed her eyes to catch him. “Okay, fine. Um, you know that navy journal I carry around? I’ve been writing notes in there.”

“But I’ve seen you with that since last December.” She furrowed her brow, confused. “We didn’t say I love you for months after that.”

He shrugged, casting her a grin as she climbed onto him and pressed her head to his chest, snuggling close. He wrapped his arms tight around her, tracing patterns on her back lightly. “When you know, you know, I guess.”

“You sap.” She accused, poking her finger against her chest. “My character’s a bitch for the whole first quarter of the screenplay, I can’t believe you wrote that in.”

He laughed, tugging gently on the ends of her hair. “Asher argues right back, I guess it’s how you look at it. The character growth is important, though, they can’t just fall in love like that without conflict. Rule number one of storytelling.”

“Are you gonna produce it?”

“The screenplay? Nah. Well, I don’t know, my professor picks two out of the ten and then we produce them in the spring semester. He did, um, encourage me to enter it in some contest for students, so I submitted it recently, but yeah. Doubt he’ll pick it though.” He dismissed himself easily.

“Hey.” She flicked his chest. “Be more confident. I want someone really hot to play me. Like Megan Fox-caliber.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure she’s in the film department’s tiny budget.”

“You have money.” She pointed out, smirking, and leaned up to kiss him.

“Not hire-Megan-Fox money. Besides, you’re hotter.” He met her lips first, shifting so his leg fell in between hers.

“We both know that’s not true, baby.” She raised her eyebrows, skeptical.

“It is true. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He kissed her again, hard, smiling against her lips. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. 10/10, would bang.”

“Thanks for the Yelp review.” She giggled and rolled her eyes simultaneously. “For the record, I always thought you were hot, even if you were arrogant and annoying when we were growing up.”

“I’m glad we waited, both of us.” He threaded his fingers through hers and kissed the tip of her nose. “If we had just one hate fuck and then you got over me I think I’d be so sad.”

“You wouldn’t get over me?”

“I haven’t been over you since junior year of high school, sweetheart.” He pointed out, making her blush bright red.

“What happened with Brooklyn then?” She asked point-blank, feeling bold.

He scowled, pressing his hips against hers. “Do we have to talk about her? Because I have other ideas for topics of conversation. Literally anything else.”

“We don’t have to, no. I’m just curious.”

“I dunno. Good timing, I guess. It kind of started out of convenience, knowing both our families would get along, then turned into a little more.” He shrugged, teasing his thumbs over her hip bones and along the hem of her shirt. “Longest mistake of my life.”

“Hey. You didn’t know she was going to end up that way.” Sophie frowned, then her frown gave way to a smug smirk. “It’s fine, I was sleeping around back then anyways -”

“You’ve slept with one other person, Sophie -” He started with an exasperated sigh, laughing when her jaw dropped in indignation. “Technically, your body count is just two.”

“So’s yours!” She retorted, sitting up on top of him and crossing her arms.

“No. Still four.” He corrected. “And I’d like both of ours to stay that way.”

“So that’s a no to a threesome?” She teased, punctuating her question with a roll of her hips.

“If you think I’m letting another person touch you like I get to, you’re delusional.” He scowled, gripping her hips a little tighter to keep her firmly in place. “I don’t even like other guys looking at you at the bar.”

“You’re too jealous.” She chastised with a flip of her hair. “People are gonna look at me. I’m hot. Bangable, in your words.”

“First off, I was joking, and I’m pretty sure I did not say bangable -”

“You absolutely did! Might as well have called me a slut -”

He raised his eyebrows at her teasing tone, unamused. “Why, do you want that? ‘Cause if you do you can just ask.”

“No.” She pouted, moving off of him.

“Where are you going?” He reached out for her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “C’mere, I want to snuggle.”

She smiled, endeared by the 6’3” boy in her bed asking to cuddle. “Okay. Just that though, we have that dinner reservation soon, the one downtown.”

He grinned when she crawled back into bed. She looped her arm around his waist, spooning him, and he sighed contentedly. “I’m so excited for those fancy drinks.”

“We can make fancy drinks at home, y’know. Just buy the alcohol and we can try it.” She nudged her nose against his neck, making him flinch and wiggle away for a moment.

“Not the same. $18 cocktails in the fancy glasses just hit different.” He flipped over so he was face to face with her and rested his arm over her waist, scratching little circles on her back.

“Mm.” She closed her eyes but gave him a nod. “Are you gonna order a dumb whiskey drink again then drink half my fruity drink?”

“You like whiskey.” He protested. “We were sharing.”

“Free alcohol is free alcohol.” She replied, her voice taking on a sleepy tone. “How fancy do I have to be for this place?”

“You can just throw on a dress.” He continued to scratch her back, loving her little hums of contentment. “We can take a nap before we go. Twenty minutes. You can do eyeliner and lipstick and whatever in the car.”

“Ideal.” She murmured. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“I really love that screenplay. You’re very talented. I mean it.” She squinted one eye open just so she could see his blush and shy smile.

“Yeah, well. I had good inspiration. Thank you, Soph, that means a lot.” He reached out and stroked his thumb over her cheek as he reminded himself how lucky he was to be with her.

“Always my favorite.” She whispered, leaning forward to peck his lips and cuddle closer into him. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“I love you too.” He murmured back. “Sweet dreams.”

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[apathetic-revenant]

Vimes had never mastered ambition. It was something that happened to other people.

*

The Night Watch got up when the rest of the world was going to bed, and went to bed when dawn drifted over the landscape. You spent your whole time in the damp, dark streets, in a world of shadows. The Night Watch attracted the kind of people who for one reason or another were inclined to that kind of life.

*

Part of him was marveling at the sheer beauty of the sight, but an insistent, weaselly little group of brain cells from the wrong side of the synapses was scrawling its graffiti on the walls of wonderment.

*

The Bearhugger’s had worn off. He hated being sober. It meant he started to think.

*

The Watch was generally of the opinion that Samuel Vimes was at least two drinks under par, and needed a stiff double even to be sober.

*

 “Have you had anything to eat today, sir?” said Angua.

“I had a bit of breakfast,” muttered Vimes.

*

“Er...I know this isn’t the right time,” said Vimes [currently engaged in a murder investigation]. “But, when the kids play hopscotch in the street, what’s the rhyme they sing? ‘Salt, mustard, vinegar, pepper’ isn’t it?”

*

He lit the candles by his desk and opened his notebook. Probably he should use the demonic organizer, but he liked to see things written down fair and square. He could think better when he wrote things down.

*

He felt more alive than he had for days. The recent excitement still tingled in his veins, kicking his brain into life. It was the sparkle you got with exhaustion, he knew. You were so bone-weary that a shot of adrenaline hit you like a falling troll. They must have it all now. All the bits. The edges, the corners, the whole picture. All there, just waiting to be pieced together...

*

Sam Vimes smacked his forehead. “Perks! Of course! That was the word I was looking for. Perks!”

*

He leaned sideways to Captain Carrot. “Who’re all these people?”

“Watchmen, sir. You appointed them.”

“Did I? I haven’t even met some of them!”

“You signed the paperwork, sir. And you sign the wage bill every month. Eventually.”

There was a hint of criticism in his voice. Vimes’s approach to paperwork was not to touch it until someone was shouting, and then at least there would be someone to help him sort through the stacks.

*

“And I thought...I thought, good grief, this is what I’m supposed to carry? And I thought about it, and then I thought, no, that’s right, just once someone got it right. It’s not even a weapon, it’s just a thing. It ain’t for using, it’s just for having. That’s what it’s all about. Same thing with uniforms. You see, a soldier’s uniform, it’s to turn him into part of a crowd of other parts all in the same uniform, but a copper’s uniform is there to--”

Vimes stopped. Perplexed expressions in front of him told him that he was building a house of cards with too few cards on the bottom.

*

Vimes’s desk was becoming famous. Once there were piles, but they had slipped as piles do, forming this dense compacted layer that was now turning into something like peat. It was said there were plates and unfinished meals somewhere down there. No one wanted to check. Some people said they’d heard movement.

*

Vimes was conscious of his own thoughts moving very fast, and they seemed to reach their own decision. We’ll explain later, they said. You’re too tired for explanations.

*

Perhaps it was because he was tired, or just because he was trying to shut out the world, but Vimes found himself slowing down into the traditional watchman’s walk and the traditional idling thought process.

It was an almost Pavlovian response. The legs swung, the feet moved, the mind began to work in a certain way. It wasn’t a dream state, exactly. It was just that the ears, nose and eyeballs wired themselves straight into the ancient “suspicious bastard” node of his brain, leaving his higher brain center free to free-wheel.

...Fur and tights...what kind of wear was that for a watchman? Bashed-in armor, greasy leather breeches and a tatty shirt with bloodstains on it, someone else’s for preference...that was the stuff...nice feel of the cobbles through his boots, it was really comforting...

*

“Sam?”

Vimes looked up from his reading.

“Your soup will be cold,” said Lady Sybil from the far end of the table. “You’ve been holding that spoonful in the air for the last five minutes by the clock.”

“Sorry, dear.”

*

“He writes in the manual,” said the demon nastily. “Did you know that, everybody? He writes in the manual.”

“Well, of course I make notes--”

“He’s actually sneakily trying to keep his dairy in the manual so his wife won’t find out he’s never bothered to learn how to use me,” said the demon.

“What about the Vimes manual, then?” snapped Vimes. “I notice you’ve never bothered to learn how to use me!”

*

Vimes, whose knowledge of geography was microscopically detailed within five miles of Ankh-Morpork, and merely microscopic beyond that, nodded uncertainly.

*

Lady Sybil was aware of this. Sam could coherently carry on an entire conversation while thinking about something completely different.

good evening everyone I’m not definitely saying His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes Duke of Ankh has ADHD but like, I’m not not saying that either