#i made a sketch of her months ago when she was revealed and left it to finish after asc

[pigeonclaw]

ASC is over, which means it's time for... Moonpaw!

[rudnitskaia]

This note was supposed to appear in a Christmas fanfic, but after @acesandocs sent me an ask about RoMaunce "Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)" with an art request, I made a decision to post both the fic and the note much earlier. The fic is under the cut, enjoy the Christmas spirit in the middle of summer. :D

Bonus: the fic also tells the story of The Most Ridiculous Scarf's creation. x))

The Winter Wonder

Working until the last client was an awful practice.

Mau couldn't remember when she had gotten a good night's sleep. Hiding behind the storefront window, she rested her head on her hands folded on the counter and tried her best to keep from falling into slumber. She might have fallen asleep for real if it hadn't been for the cheerful music that was playing from the radio.

“Let's not disturb Miss Maura,” a cheerful whisper sounded barely audible next to Mau. A few coins tinkled quietly as they fell onto the counter, and two visitors headed for the exit.

She didn't instantly realize what was happening, and raised her head too late. Before the front door slammed shut, all she could see was Rocky wrapping a threadbare blue scarf around his neck with one hand, and gently pushing his cousin toward the street with the other.

The two young men who frequented the eatery, and who were different from most of the visitors, were constantly drawing a lot of suspicious stares. When Rocky had first brought his redheaded cousin to the place a few months ago, it had been noon on a workday, and the workmen who lunched at the eatery had become strangely quiet when the two young men had taken the only available table near the exit. Until that day, Rocky had always sat at that table for some reason, but every time he had been lucky enough to come to the eatery when there were few or no other guests. On his first visit with Calvin, though, it was as if he had deliberately chosen the busiest time of day. Like he wanted them to be noticed. But Rocky had guessed, apparently, that they had attracted too much attention, and since then, alone or with his cousin, he had shown up at the eatery either when honest people were busy working or at closing time, when honest people were getting ready for bed.

Such was the case to-day.

“And the following composition will immerse you…”

With a click of the switch on the radio panel the main room fell into silence. Despite the approaching Christmas, Mau was in a horrible mood, and even with all her love of music, she had no desire to listen to another sickeningly festive song. It was a cloudy, unusually snowy day in St. Louis, and Mau was apparently infected by its grayness, so even her usual chores were draining. Mau's father and the owner of the eatery, Mister Augusto Venza, had been away for a couple of weeks in Chicago on extremely urgent business, so Maura had to serve the clients alone and, moreover, had to meet 1928 all by herself. Though she was rather glad of the latter.

There will be no fuss.

Slowly, one by one, Mau counted the coins that Calvin and Rocky had left as payment for the coffee, and was surprised to find a piece of paper folded several times next to them. Unfolding it, Mau saw some amusing, almost childish, drawings in red crayon. On the first one, she herself was sleeping with a terribly sullen expression in a daisy field under a big, angry raincloud. In the second, Rocky held a sheep, which resembled a cloud of cotton candy and was eagerly munching on that raincloud, above his head, while the cartoonish Mau was already smiling. Next to these sketches was a wry caption:

“Don't be sour! Let sweet dreams eat all the bitter thoughts. R.”

Chuckling, Mau shook her head. She scrutinized the drawing for another minute or so, then sat down on the floor behind the counter and pulled one of the wooden baseboards towards herself.

“Come on, stop being stubborn…”

Finally, the baseboard gave way, revealing a narrow gap at the bottom of the counter that Mau used as a stash for part of her tips. She folded the sheet tighter and put it with the notes Rocky had sometimes left on his previous visits.

The front door suddenly swung open, letting cold air into the room. Mau's heart leapt, and she hastily pushed the wooden flap against the gap, then hastily stood up from the floor and shook off her knees.

“What is it, my dear? Are the spoons running away from you again?” the old Missis Bruno creaked in Italian.

“A keen eye you have,” Mau answered her also in Italian and added: “The usual for you?”

The woman nodded and headed for the far table. As she looked at her, Mau noticed the bright green knitted scarf under her coat and walked to the kitchen to serve Missis Bruno her favorite cheese ravioli.

“You have such a lovely scarf,” she said as she passed by. “Where did you get it?”

“Knitted it myself,” the woman's eyes flashed with pride. “There's some wonderful yarn at Scaffidi's now.”

“You're such a talented needlewoman,” Mau said, putting the pot on the stove. “I can't knit at all.”

The eatery became awkwardly quiet for a moment. Maura's revelation made Missis Bruno squirm uncomfortably in her chair. The mere thought that a woman of Mau’s age could not knit not only disturbed her, but appalled her. From the kitchen, Mau couldn't hear the old woman muttering worryingly to herself:

“Poor girl, there was no one to teach her…”

But even that wasn't enough of an excuse for her. She had friends, neighbors, and yet Maura Venza, at the age of twenty-two, could not knit! It's not a long way to ruin one's fate, thought Missis Bruno, nervously rubbing her napkin in her fingers. No, she could not let it go! A little while later, she said loudly:

“This is just unacceptable. What's your father thinking about? Certainly not that his daughter is so mature and can't knit. That's embarrassing,” her tone changed from condemning to admonishing. “Tell you what, Mau, honey, I'll teach you how to knit. It's easy, you'll see. Mama left you needles and yarn, didn't she?”

“I don't think so. Even if she did, it remained in Kansas City,” Mau lied habitually, barely containing a grin. She was amused at Missis Bruno's attitude toward such things. No wonder, though; things had been different when she had been young. Mau couldn't prove to her that knitting wasn't a required skill now.

“Not good. Not good at all,” the old woman continued to wail. “Back in my days…”

Mau sincerely hoped Missis Bruno hadn't heard the low chuckle that escaped her lips. She pulled a small bag out of the freezer. Knitting. Well now! There was a book she couldn’t finish for more than a month, and today there were mountains of plates, cups, and baking pans to wash. What knitting to think of.

Listening to Missis Bruno half-heartedly, Mau soon put a steaming plate of cheese ravioli with pesto in front of the old lady and returned to the counter. With the toe of her shoe, she again tried to discreetly slide a piece of baseboard back into the gap.

“…and then on Christmas Day…” Missis Bruno persisted. The wooden part wasn't falling into place. Mau frowned and mentally cursed. Why had she even opened the stash in the middle of the day?

Oh, yes, Rocky. Rocky and his funny drawing.

…and his old worn-out scarf.

Mau looked outside the window, watching the snowflakes fall slowly. She rarely got a chance to go outside, but Rocky, given his very specific occupation, had to be out in the cold a lot. And sleeping in the car in this weather must have been uncomfortable, too… it wouldn't take long to get sick. The mere thought of that made Maura uneasy. She pictured him huddled under his coat and a thin, shabby blanket, huddled in the back seat of the car, and she clenched the side of the counter tighter. He had been taking time out of his day for so many months now to come to her and just cheer her up with something: a humorous story, a funny trinket, or a little candy. As if whenever by any means he could find a little bit of warmth somewhere, he had always rushed to share it with her. And now, more than ever, she felt the desire to return that warmth to him a hundredfold. Slipping the teaspoon to the floor, Mau ducked under the counter and pulled back the flap of the stash.

“You know, Missis Bruno… I think you're right. I really should learn to knit. Could I ask you to lend me needles until my father returns and show me how to do it?”

“Of course,” the woman said enthusiastically, obviously pleased that her story had piqued Maura's interest. “Maybe you want to make something specific?”

“A scarf,” Mau answered without hesitation.

“Oh, a scarf is quite simple,” the woman squinted her eyes, smiling broadly. “With my advices, you’ll do it in two evenings. It's the dresses that require all sorts of tricks, but this…”

After a moment, Mau sat down in the chair opposite Missis Bruno and handed her a few crumpled bills. All her tips from the last couple months.

“Good. Can you buy a couple skeins of good yarn for me, please?”

Two evenings was easy to say! A week had passed before Mau could manage to do anything right at all. And Christmas was the day after tomorrow! So little, so little time… Mau yawned. She could hardly keep her eyes open, and therefore even had stopped watching whether the rows of stitches were knitted straight or not. She finished her work only in the morning, and fell asleep, holding her knitting in hands, with the needles dangerously close to her eyes.

And overslept.

In the morning, after freshening herself up, she hastily stuffed the scarf into a bundle of paper and rushed to the eatery. She spent the whole day in anticipation, hoping Rocky would come, and every time the bell over the door jingled, her heart jumped in her chest. Until finally the young man appeared on the doorstep, shaking off the snow from himself.

“Today is on the house, in celebration of Christmas,” she told him, setting coffee and a plate of chocolate pancakes with raspberry jam, garnished with three raspberries and sprinkled with powdered sugar, in front of him. And while Rocky, as if being hypnotized, stared at this gorgeousness and tried to guess if the berries were purposefully arranged in a heart-shaped pattern or not, she shoved the bundle into the pocket of his coat, which hung on the clothes rack behind him.

When Rocky walked out of the Venza family's eatery that evening, he couldn't stop smiling dreamily. He passed by the lamppost, dancing around it, and laughed softly, putting hands into his pockets. To think that Mau had baked pancakes just for him, and damn, what pancakes they were! But… what in the world was that?

He stared in puzzlement at the slanted bundle, and immediately opened it.

Seeing… a scarf.

Or rather, it looked like a scarf, except… the blue stitches wiggled from side to side, the crookedly sewn buttons reminded two eyes, and what should have been white trim on both ends looked more like jagged teeth. If it was a scarf, it was the most ridiculous scarf he had ever seen.

“How did you knit to me, buddy?” Rocky murmured, twirling the knitted mess in his hands. But there was no clue neither on the scarf nor in the paper shreds of the wrapper. Frowning, Rocky looked over his shoulder at the eatery and bit his lip.

Could it be that it was made by Mau?

There was certainly a chance that someone had put the bundle in his coat by accident, but somehow Rocky felt like there was no mistake. It was definitely a present. A self-made Christmas present. From Mau. For him! Rocky straightened the scarf and lifted it as high above his head as his arms could reach, looking at it like at an absolute miracle. The scarf, swaying in the wind, stared up at him with its button eyes and its crooked, white-toothed grin. And Rocky, as he continued his way toward the Little Daisy, smiled broadly back at it.

“Zib, please have mercy,” he kept whimpering, clutching at the man's pant leg. Zib made another attempt to make a step, but after dragging Rocky across the stage floor a little more, he gave up again.

“Kid,” Zib sighed, “if you don't let me go, I'm just going to sit on you.”

“Oh, please! I'll even be your personal horse, taking you out to the audience every night, right under the spotlight…”

Zib gave him a confused look and snorted nervously.

“No, I think I'll pass, thank you.”

“It's a matter of life and death, Zib! What can I do to get you to say yes? I'd do anything. Give anything. Literally. Even my eye teeth.”

“Why on earth are you so damn eager?” The man flailed his arms up. Rocky pulled himself closer to Zibowski's legs, squeezing them like a vise.

“It's just Christmas. I can't resist the urge to do good deeds. What a stale dry man wouldn't be heartbroken at a picture like this? Just imagine: a poor, unfortunate soul burning with a passion for music, but locked in a prison of pots and pans… as the servants of Euterpe, it is our duty to rectify such injustices! Even if only once a year.”

Zib groaned doomedly. He looked down at Rocky tiredly, then up at the ceiling, then back at Rocky, whose blue eyes stared back at him, not even with a plead, but with an almost childlike hope.

“I'm going to regret this…” he muttered, sighing heavily.

The next bright, frosty morning, Mau went down to the eatery and began her routine. She wiped off the dust, pulled open the curtains, opened the window vent, turned on the stove and set a batch of muffins to bake, began to prepare the batter for tomorrow as usual, and then…

…heard the music.

From the street, very close by, came a jaunty jazz tune, accompanied by the singing of several male voices. Mystified, Mau rubbed her hand over the fogged glass of the window and looked outside… no, it couldn't be. She ran out onto the porch and, still not believing her eyes, stared at the whole orchestra on the sidewalk in front of the eatery. When Rocky noticed her, he stepped forward and twirled around himself, playing his violin with an unusually wide smile. Looking at him, Mau laughed warmly and outlined the musicians with her hands, as if silently asking: How? How is this possible? Rocky only fleetingly lowered his gaze, paying her attention to his new scarf, and then winked at her, continuing his improvised dance with the violin.

It was a real wonder.

Soon the music and singing subsided, and Maura, still grinning happily, loudly applauded.

“Bravi! Bravi! Oh, but please hurry inside, I don’t want you all to catch cold! Come on!”

Zib's band could barely fit into the cramped space of the eatery, but that only made the atmosphere more welcoming. When Rocky cheerfully introduced Mau to all the musicians, whose names immediately mixed in her head, she brought out cinnamon coffee for each of them and a vase of ginger cookies to bite until the cupcakes were ready.

“Mind if I smoke?” Zib asked, making himself comfortable in the old chair. Mau shook her head, locking the door. No, there will be no working until the last client today. Today will be only the celebration.

“How could I say no after such an amazing concert? How did you all even sign up for this?”

Zib chuckled, giving Rocky a sly look.

“Well, let's just say he's got a long way to work it off.”

“Oh, it was worth it,” the young man shrugged nonchalantly.

Following the cozy Christmas aromas, the tiny room was filled with stories from Zib's band's past, music and laughter. Mau couldn't remember when she had felt so alive, so it was like a dream. Such a sweet, sweet dream. In her mind, she went back to those distant noisy evenings in New York, when every holiday she and her father celebrated in the large company of the Riva family. When there was no fear or anxiety, when there was warmth and hope in everything. Mau's gaze lingered on Rocky. She didn't understand how he, with all his troubles and hardships, every time managed to do the impossible: even if only for a short period of time, but to bring her back that long-lost hope. But it was then, on that sunny Christmas Eve, when she finally heard in herself undeniably loudly: I love you.

After more than one hour and more than one cup of coffee, after a series of stories and a particularly noisy argument, Sy climbed up on the counter and began to dance and juggle apples to the lively rhythmic clapping…

When suddenly, dumbfounded, with a key in his hand, Augusto Venza appeared on the doorstep.

[acourtoflostandwanderingstars]

Shackled from Truth: A Fragile Game

Chapter 2: Unexpected Changes Make for a Clear Road to Disaster

(Notes: I realized I entirely forgot to post chapter 2 on here…so here you go! It’s been up on AO3 for a while, so this isn’t anything new for those of you who came from there, sorry…)

Rating: (M)ature

Warning(s): Violence, language, murder, gore. Viewer discretion advised! If this triggers you, please move on!

Pairing(s): Wingdings Gaster/Original Female Character (kinda reader)

Skye shifted her weight to her other foot, swallowing nervously. She had been diligently sucking up to every higher up she could in Vital’s gang, and just last week she’d received a letter. The angry, red wax seal had glared up at her, as if promising as much danger as an active case of dynamite. It was just an invitation to meet the man himself. Adelphi. When Serenity had described it, she had made the plan sound so easy. But Skye had her doubts. One wrong move and both her own and Daji’s life would be at stake. Her nerves had flared, eating away at her insides, ever since she laid eyes on that ominous letter, like a hot iron branding her mind, her eyes.

     “Ms. Cohen?” The metal door scraped against the concrete floor, its weight dragging it down.  “Skye Cohen?” The girl barely processed the man’s question as the words ‘reinforced metal’ echoed through her head. 

     Finally, the words reached her, pulling her out of the anxious fog her mind was in. “Oh, um, yes! That’s…that’s me.” She swallowed, glancing into the room offered to her by a muscular, well-trained butler. The lions den, a place to be left alone. Yet here she was, preparing to let the stiff darkness of the room swallow her. She took a step forward, her body stiff.

     The sight inside surprised her. She found an older man, holding a cigar, sitting at a desk bathed in multi-colored light. A stained glass window proudly stood from the floor to the ceiling, illuminating the room in a gentle, muted rainbow of colors. The man at the desk looked grizzled on the outside, but his eyes revealed overwhelming weariness, almost gentle. That’s when a lone picture frame caught the young woman’s attention. It was a man, different than the pale individual in front of her. This picture displayed one of chocolate skin, bright blue eyes, and thick hair that was dark at the roots but blonde at the tips. 

     “Skye Cohen. You joined my gang but three months ago, no?” Adelphi Vital’s slight British accent caught her attention.

     Skye nodded, avoiding eye contact. She was worried he was going to question allegiances, and she’d never been too good at lying. Her front often broke the second the other person showed a hint of moral, the slightest bit of character, of weakness.

     “Well, Ms. Cohen, I have some good news.” The man leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve heard about the loyalty you’ve shown to me. And I want to reward you.”

     Skye’s head shot up. Reward? That wasn’t what she had expected — not at all. “I-oh! Um, thank you, sir.”

     Adelphi tilted his head toward the girl. “I have decided to promote you to Lieutenant, head of my infiltration and investigation branches. I would like you to do my spy work.”

     Skye’s breath left her in a moment of mind-numbing shock. This was exactly what Chikai had predicted. Of course, Skye was particularly talented in the delicate art of disguising herself, able to slip through the shadows where no one else noticed her — it was the very job she was doing now. But Chikai’s estimate had been on the dot, down to the week the promotion was in. Regaining her composure, Skye tilted her head downwards to avoid suspicion, masking her nervousness as excited shock. “T-thank you, sir.”

     “Of course! And, if you’re up to it, I have a job for you.” The man began shuffling through papers scattered on the wooden desk. Various papers fell to the ground, and Skye caught sight of several charcoal sketches that portrayed the same ruggedly handsome man in the picture frame on the desk.

     “Of course, sir.” Skye tilted her head at the picture frame. “Oh, and Mr. Vital, sir?”

     The man hummed in response.

     “Who’s the man in the picture frame?”

     Adelphi froze, shocked by the question. He slowly picked up the picture and stared at it, lost in memory. “He was my husband. We had been married for thirty-five years. And then he was kidnapped, and shot.”

     Skye blinked, her heart going out to Vital. “Th-that’s terrible.”

     Adelphi nodded. “After I disposed of the gang who did it, I learned to never take for granted what I have, what I care about. Many of the other gangs see it as ‘going soft’, but I lost so much more than a spouse that day. When I watched them shoot him, beyond that glass barrier, I felt like my very SOUL shattered, and I couldn’t do anything to help it.” A few tears fell onto the worn frame.

     Skye lowered her head in solemnity. Although many humans doubted it, his SOUL probably did shatter. It sounds like he had lost his SOULmate. 

     The man shook himself out of the fog. “Right. Well, enough about me. I have given a piece of property to Wingding’s Gaster, head of the Serif family. I want you to move into one of the apartments there and keep an eye on him. I don’t need my spot being uprooted anytime soon. That would open our precious city to weaknesses.” Adelphi pushes a pawn, which was sitting on a stack of papers in front of him, over. A dark look crossed his eyes. “Are you up for it, Lieutenant?”

     Skye swallowed, flinching at the nickname. “Y-yes sir.” She would have to find a way to report to Chikai about this. Being right under Wingding’s nose would complicate things. It might endanger her whole gang.

     Adelphi turned towards the window, observing the way the light danced across the stained panes. “And I’m sure you won’t mind the extra security I have assigned for you. It’s just precautionary. I can’t have my spy being killed, or worse, betray me.” He shot a dark glance at Skye, and her heart stopped for a dangerous moment.

     “I-of course not, sir. Th-that would never happen.” She glanced down, trying to lie through her teeth. He couldn’t know. Could he? 

     “Oh don’t worry, I’m not making this unpleasant. I noticed how close you have grown to a few of my other recruits.” Vital snaps his fingers, and in step two figures. One is a stout, broad man, a scar tearing down the left side of his head. His demeanor was threatening, his eyes mischievous. It was Griffin, one of Vital’s muscle men. The other was a familiar face. The woman, blinded in one shocking, icy blue eye, was tall and muscular. This was Daji, a member of Serenity’s family. She had joined Adelphi months earlier than Skye as a precaution. Now she stared coldly in front of her, not making eye contact with the quivering Skye.

     Vital raised his hand. “Go. Your assignment starts next week. Your guides will escort you.”

     Serenity bolted awake, a cold sweat sticking to her skin, her heart racing, her breathing heavy. She sat in the cold darkness of her room for a moment before pulling her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on them. Something was wrong — terribly wrong. 

     Swinging her legs over the side of her bed and sitting up, she felt the room spin. The lack of sleep was catching up to her, the delicate plan feeling as though it weighed more than a ton on her shoulders. Serenity rubbed her eyes and stood up, picking her way through the room to flip on the light switch. Her head pulsed as soon as the bright light flooded the small space.

     Compared to a week ago, her snug apartment was cluttered. Papers filled with names, some crossed off in red, others with marks next to them, drifted down to the floor and sprawled across her desk. One instant ramen container, still half full, stood on the counter, abandoned.  Serenity grabbed her stomach as is groaned uncomfortably — hungry yet queasy. It would be easier to just not eat today. Besides,  today was ever so important.

     Today was the day she would finally meet her landlord and the overseer. The woman pulled on her inconspicuous newsboy outfit, and checked the mirror. Content, she made her way towards the door. She didn’t forget — hell, she couldn’t forget — that today was also when Zara had promised a status report, something Serenity was terribly anxious to receive. 

     Opening the rundown door, Serenity exited the apartment. After rubbing her newspaper rounds, she made her way back to the community park that was in front of her temporary home. It was run down — rusty swing sets that creaked as they swayed in the wind, a slide that dangled off its anchor, and a rock climbing wall covered in blood and vandalism. A dried flower bed that was overflowing with weeds had become the stray cats’ litter box, and the crisp air made Serenity pull her coat closer to her form.

     After sitting down on one of the swings, Serenity began feeding the cats. They flocked to her, drawing the attention of some neighborhood kids that were playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. Parents, who had come home from work early to meet the new  landlord, dawdled outside. Some made angry phone calls, others sat quietly and read. Some just stared at their feet. This meeting could make or break this neighborhood, and many had already lost hope.

     Wingdings sighed. “Alright, Papyrus, you have absolutely everything memorized? No surprise add-ons this time around?”

     The tall skeleton shifted in his seat. “DON’ WORRY ‘BOUT IT, BOSS. I’L STICK T’THE SCRIPT.”

     The car holding the three skeleton brothers rounded a corner. Immediately, Sans slammed on the break, yelling loud profanity’s at the bicyclist who had pulled out in front of them. 

     “fucking kid!! need ta watch where they’re goin’.” Sans grumbled, righting the steering wheel and continuing towards the job site.

     “Patience, Sans. It’s probably a neighborhood resident. And we have to treat them with utmost respect. Remember the plan.”

     Silence fell over the car. The plan. Months of careful planning, endless hours of trying patience. To mess up now would cost the Serif Family a good chunk of their territory, and that would set them back years. The rest of the ride was spent in contemplative silence, the air thick and tense as possibilities were weighed and scripts reviewed.

     Serenity glanced around, searching the crowd for signs of Zara. She was supposed to meet her half an hour before the meet and greet, and she was already five minutes late.

     Finally, Serenity caught sight of a purple-streaked head of hair. Zara bounded up and pulled Serenity into a hug. 

     While they were hugging, Zara whispered. “There’s been a glitch. Something big.”

     Serenity pulled back and furrowed her brow in concern. “What?”

     “Skye’s been promoted, just like Chikai predicted. But Adelphi put her directly on a job.” Zara took a deep breath, exhausted from her run to the complex.

     Before she had the chance to finish, Serenity caught sight of a familiar face tying up her bicycle. Was that…Skye? A swell of fear grew in Serenity’s chest as Zara continued her report.

     “Adelphi sold some land to W.D., and she’s been directed to move in so she can keep an eye on him. She was rehoused to the location today.” 

     The girl by the bicycle turned to face the crowd, and Serenity’s suspicion was confirmed. Color draining out of her face, Serenity grabbed Zara’s shoulder and asked a question again. “You said you were sure this was Vital’s territory, right?” 

     Zara nodded. “Yes, why?”

     Suddenly, an engine revved, and an expensive looking sports car parked by the curb. The crowd stood alert, and the doors opened. Three figures stepped out, and collective gasps were heard throughout the throng. Serenity felt her head spin and her stomach clench at the sight.

     There stood the Gaster brothers, the heart of the Serif Family. The Golden Head, WingDings Gaster himself, was the new landlord. Serenity felt bile rise in her throat and she almost gagged. This would put a hiccup in the plan. A big hiccup. And now another one of her gang members was wrapped into this situation. 

     The world spun, and Serenity wretched, covering her mouth and moving to the side. Zara stood, dumbfounded, as she watched the Serif brothers begin their speech. 

     Serenity’s already empty stomach cleared what was left in it on the ground. Immediately, Wingdings glanced over. The pale woman caught his attention. The others were dumbfounded, but her shock seemed far worse. Narrowing his eyes, Wingdings turned back to the crowd and continued his recited lines.

     “And you don’t have to fear anymore, my good people. We will keep you and the rest of the city safe from parasites — from weaklings that try to worm their way in. Now, let’s set up a date to have a community meeting regarding your protection fees…”

     Serenity shook, weak from a second earlier, and feeling as though that last statement was a threat. But the plan couldn’t just stop. It had to proceed, just with extra caution. She tapped Zara’s shoulder and nodded, and Zara grinned, satisfied, before retreating into an alleyway. She would spread the message. The plan must go on.

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 15: Night

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Night Rated: T 

A/N: A continuation "Game On” and “Pixie” Marinette had been in Gotham for a little over a year now, having left behind her life in Paris to attend Gotham University.  It all started when she got involved with Catwoman, who saved her one night when she was in trouble.  Then she got roped into a little game between Catwoman and Batman, and that was how she met Jason and Roy, Red Hood and Arsenal respectively. While with Jason and Roy, they had their ups and downs. Initially she felt that the two were overprotective, but they were able to reconcile after a fateful encounter in the Iceberg Lounge.  Ever since that fateful encounter, what started as a harmless little crush began to grow over time.  For once, she got to know people who understood both the real her and her superheroine persona.  They knew her as a quick thinker in battle, and a civilian with a tendency to catastrophize things.  While she was sitting in the car with Jason and Roy, driving back from Star City.  The only sounds that could be heard were the scratching of pencil on paper, and the hum of the engine as they drove.  She tried to throw herself into her upcoming design assignments that weren’t due for another few weeks, doing anything to avoid thinking about Jason sleeping peacefully in the front seat of the car.  Tikki was nestled in her bag nibbling on a cookie and only Roy seemed to notice how quiet the drive back to Gotham was.  She had developed a close friendship with the three of them, one which wasn’t complicated by secret and civilian identities.  They had each other’s backs in combat, and they worked well as a team together.  Marinette cursed herself, for the first time in a long time, she had relationships that weren’t complicated by secrets and secret identities.   Now she was going to ruin everything just because she could not keep her heart and her feelings under control, it was pathetic.  It was easier to think that Jason was a stubborn, sarcastic brute who couldn’t possibly understand her.  He could still be stubborn and sarcastic at times, but then he had to go and have another side to him.  A side of him that cared deeply for those close to him, a group of people that now included Marinette.  It wasn’t fair.  Marinette shook her head and turned her attention back to her design work,  these patterns weren’t going to sketch themselves. It was also one of the few times she got to work with more delicate fabrics. Jason was pretending to be asleep on the drive from Star City back to Gotham, not unlike the one that happened a few months ago. It seemed like yesterday they first heard about a new superheroine who managed to take on two of his younger brothers.  Marinette was certainly a girl with many contradictions, even when they first met her on that rooftop that fateful night.  She could be very creative with her magic yo-yo, and in a fight she was usually a level-headed and quick thinker.  That much was clear to anyone who saw her in action, which was probably for the best, given that Jason had a very short fuse and a tendency to brute force his way through situations.  By the same token, the same person was prone to flying off the handle in much more mundane situations.   One time she woke up early for a test that wasn’t for another two days, and flew into a panicked stream of consciousness that made it sound like she was going to be shipped back to her home city in a matchbox if she was late.  Jason didn’t dare turn around to look at her in the backseat, but he could just about imagine what she looked like.  The scratching of pencil on paper told him that she was probably designing something that had more in common with a ball gown than body armour.  Her skills as a seamstress came in handy when their body armour needed upgrades or adjustments, not everyone could be gifted with the power of a magic body suit.  Even Hal Jordan was a test pilot long before he became a Green Lantern, Marinette was just a teenager when she got given magic jewelry. Secret identities and personas aside, at her core Marinette was still the same person.  She was kind, forgiving, but most of all she trusted him, something very few people did.  At first he wrote it off as all of them having each other’s backs in a fight. While that was true it wasn’t the whole  story, he knew because he could say the same thing about Roy.  He considered maybe it was because she managed to calm his pit madness, but that was because she had the very creatures who created them by her side.  Jason still called her “Pixie '' from time to time, really out of affection more than anything.  He only used her name when he was being absolutely dead serious.  It was a lot more than that and he knew it, he knew that she was worming her way past all the walls he had put up, seemingly without even trying.  He convinced himself that it was dangerous for all involved, that it would just leave him vulnerable in the end.  She was getting closer and closer to his heart, at which point he would be completely and utterly vulnerable.  He wanted to hold her close to him, but was afraid that she would hold his heart in her tiny delicate hands and squeeze.  

Roy was exhausted, not just from the mission, but from being caught right in the middle of two of his friends pining after each other. In the car ride back to Gotham, he could easily tell that Marinette was busying herself with design work while Jason was pretending to be asleep.  It would be cute if it wasn’t a sign that these two were actively avoiding talking to each other. Possibly because they were worried they might slip up and reveal their very obvious feelings for the other person.  He overheard Marinette confiding in the Kwamis late one night, when she thought both of them were out.   Jason by contrast was a little less expressive, but Roy could still tell that he was also pining after her, in his own little way.   He had tried to gently coax it out of them, and even though they refused to admit it Roy could tell.   Marinette was an open book whenever he even suggested the idea that she might be slightly attracted to Jason. At the slightest suggestion that there was something between her and Jason, her face would go tomato red and she would deny it.  Jason was a much tougher nut to crack, but Roy already knew that from the get-go. If Marinette wore her heart on her sleeve, then Jason kept his heart guarded with steel and lead.  He tried to ask him about it on a mission, when Marinette was out of earshot.   Instead he took a leaf out of Dick’s book and asked if it was really the time and place for a “man chat”.  The three of them could be compared to The Three Musketeers, but Jason and Marinette were more like Beatrice and Benedict from Much Ado About Nothing.  He was cursing Jason’s detective training, because it meant he would see right past a forged love note, while making things worse for Marinette.  If Roy was still drinking, he would have probably told them that they should just screw and get it over with.  He was starting to understand why Lian would smush her doll’s faces together and get them to ‘kiss’.  That gave him an idea...

Marinette and Jason were calmly watching TV together one night.  It was Valentine's Day, but neither of them really had any plans with anyone.  Staying in and waiting for chocolate prices to crater seemed like a much better idea.  Tikki was perched on Marinette’s shoulder, while Plagg was about to inhale a very large piece of camembert. The two of them were a comfortable distance apart, neither of them were willing to make the first move.  Suddenly, Roy busts in through the front door. Dressed up as Arsenal with a few extra accessories, a tutu and a pair of fairy wings he likely borrowed from Lian. He came in wide grin, wielding his bow with an odd heart shaped arrow. 

 “Happy Valentine's Day bitches!” he yelled out, taking aim at Marinette and Jason. The grappling arrow wrapping around the two, tightly binding them together on the sofa. Just as Marinette and Jason realise what just happened, Roy runs back out the door, slamming it on his way out.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Jason and Marinette were tied together, their faces mere inches apart. Marinette blushing a storm, while Jason tried to keep his composure and looked away from her.  That said, he could feel her deep blue eyes watching him, and he was fairly certain she could hear the sound of his heart beating in his chest.  Their arms were clamped firmly to their sides, and both of them thought that Roy had done this as a stupid prank.  “Did Roy tell you he was going to…” Marinette began. “...put on a tutu and fairy wings and tie us up on the couch?” Jason finished, he swallowed, she already looked embarrassed by the whole situation.  “No, did he tell you?” he asked. Marinette shook her head, “No, but he seems to have got it into his head that you’re interested in me.” she said as she tried to wriggle free, “as if that would ever happen.” “I mean...” the conversations he wrote off as late night man-chats were starting to make sense to him.  “...is that really so hard to believe?” he asked quietly.  There was no keeping her at arm’s length at that moment, physically or otherwise.  He noticed that she had stopped trying to wriggle free of the cord wrapped tightly around him. “A little,” she said, “It just seemed too good to be true,” she muttered.  “You’re one of the few people who knows about both Marinette and Ladybug, you know that they’re the same person.”  she explained, “the idea that you would be interested in me on top of all that just felt like it was too good to be true, like something will do horribly wrong sooner or later. Like there was no way the universe was going to let me be that happy.” Jason was surprised to hear that, but also he understood what she meant.  It was funny how on paper, they were two completely different people, and in some way they were.  It was moments like these that reminded them there were still similarities that kept them together.  For the first time since Roy had tied them up, he looked at her. “Marinette, take it from someone who’s a literal dead man walking. Trust me, that is not the most impossible thing out there, not even close.” he tried to say, Marinette looked up at him, trying to make sense of the meaning in his words.  “If anyone’s going to get slapped around by the universe, and feel as if they don’t deserve to have someone who’s seen different sides of them and still cares about them, it’s probably me,” he explained. 

Both of them finally knew what Roy was trying to do,  after all he had been painfully obvious. Jason himself tries to get a sharp batarang from his pocket, he assures Marinette, “Don’t worry Pixie, I’ll get us out of here and we can forget this ever happened.” 

 Marinette remains silent as Jason struggles against the wire tying them together, Tikki floats to her side and whispers into her ear. “Marinette, it's now or never.” Marinette looks back to see all the Plagg cheering her with a grunt. If lifting the piece of camembert with little enthusiasm counts as cheering. 

 Marinette takes a deep breath, and gathers her courage. “Jason?” she asks, and Jason pauses to look back at her.  Her face had a rosy pink glow as she leaned forward to give Jason a kiss. Jason pauses in shock at first before, and slowly melts to return the kiss. As the two kiss, Tikki helps untie the two. Just as Tikki finishes untying, Marinette and Jason hold each other in a tight embrace, eagerly savouring their newfound relationship. 

 Roy peeked his head through the window watching Marinette and Jason finally confess to each other. “About time you two got together” he cheered from the fire escape, giving the two a thumbs up and a big grin. This breaks Marinette and Jason from their affectionate moment together, embarrassing Marinette and annoying Jason. 

 Jason stomps over to the fire escape, Roy nervously greets Jason “Hey buddy, how’s it going?”

 Jason grabs Roy by the ankle, dangling him off the edge of the fire escape. “Pixie, why don't you give him a taste of his own medicine?” Marinete nods and walks over with the grappling arrow Roy shot at the two. 

 Roy pleaded, “Come guys, you two had it bad for each other it was obvious.” Marinette begins to tie Roy to the fire escape with the grappling wire. Roy attempts to struggle but Jason holds him down. 

 As Marinette progresses further in tying Roy up, his pleas become more and more desperate. 

 “I did you two a favour.” Roy begs, “Come on, is this how you two repay me? Help! Somebody! Batman! BATMAAAN!” Roy wailed. 

 Marinette and Jason ignore Roy’s begging. Once they were finished they both left, hand in hand, leaving Roy tied upside down to do some self-reflection. 

 BONUS 

Cupid: What's this I hear about you playing Cupid? 

Roy: Sorry, it was for two people who were actually in love. 

Cupid: Why you little- 

Roy: Cupid, it's been YEARS, you're a very attractive woman. It can't be that hard to find someone who loves you back, someone who doesn’t have a goatee.

[janamelie]

Dimension Jump XXI Report

I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel.  Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required.  (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con.  There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)

Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once.  He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot.  What else would you expect from a cat though?

Friday

Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration.  Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage.  She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.

Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets.  The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.

The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree.  It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.

Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online.  It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.  

The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo.  You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.

Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie.  DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.

Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!”  Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!”  When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two?  That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.

The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying.  (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment.  This is my report, after all.)

And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”.  Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic.  Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining.  The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.

Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I).  He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.  

He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it.  He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes.  Ouch.

Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party.  But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.

And then he was back for the Karaoke.  Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke?  And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?

If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas.  He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.

Saturday

DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon.  We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start.  An hour later we were still waiting.  Yep, Danny was late.

Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop.  You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see.  Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left.  That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.

Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up).  This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe.  Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell.  I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy.  He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.

As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things.  He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!

Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!”  But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.

Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are.  He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!”  (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)

Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!”  He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.

Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc.  It was entertaining though.

Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie.  Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online.  It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”

However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.

Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness.  Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.

In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit.  He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family.  His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”.  He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig.  No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.

Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question.  Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?

Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration.  He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat.  This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day.  “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”

That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out.  If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett.  I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful.  She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.

Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly.  Fortunately mine was the version including him. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees.  Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen.  I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle.  Oh well.  He was very friendly and easy to talk to.

After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition.  This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”.  Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.

We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details.  Suffice to say, his tone was positive.

The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item.  This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman.  It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel.  When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality.  We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.

Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed.  Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else.  The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end.  The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.

Sunday

Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.

This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well.  Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.  

His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse.  Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now!  Stop saying yes to things!”  It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit.  Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings.  One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”

Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode.  He praised Doug’s restraint.

He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him.  Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.

He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.

Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright.  He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.

Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it.  He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.

Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance.  Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes.  Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.

Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir?  Were you on the telly last night?”  “Yes.”  “Are we on the telly now, sir?”

Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later?  Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny.  Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.

He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them.  That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.

A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman.  Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.

Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes.  Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.  

Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.”  What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie!  One episode, that’s all I ask.  As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson.  For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).

We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour.  For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.

It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping.  Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel.  So we’ll see.

The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them.  There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.

By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.

Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!”  It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.

I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was.  He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.

Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station.  Another great DJ.

[writtenonreceipts]

If you're taking prompts, maybe for feysand - Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see person B smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

<33

Oh my darling anon, I am always eager for prompts! Thank-you for sending this in! I altered just a few minor things, ie trains and not not busses and the diologue is just worded diff... and then over indulged in my own whims and fancies, just a touch.

2.7K words of fluff and awkwardness...all i know is awkwardness so ya know...

 #

Strangers and Favors

Exhausted.  Tired.  Sleepy.  There were far too many ways to describe what Feyre was feeling.  Not even the coffee in her hands was doing anything to give her the boost she needed.  

Amid the chill of morning and the slowly growing light of dawn, Feyre found herself hurrying from her car in the park-and-ride lot.  She practically flung herself up the small steps that led to the train platform and into the first train car she was near. 

She’d been running late that morning and nearly missed her alarm.  Alis had been a dear and poured her coffee in a thermos, but Feyre hated the feeling of being rushed.  Especially after a poor night's sleep.  And when it was five thirty in the morning.

Feyre slipped into a seat before she could finally tell herself to breathe.  She’d made it onto her train with only a few minutes to spare.  Thankfully there were other straggling passengers filtered into the train car and made their way to their various seats.

Feyre took a long sip of her coffee and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t really tired.  Even though it was far too early to be awake and she had an hour and a half train ride to sit through.  

Dawn had barely begun to rise over the horizon with not even the promise of pink and blue streaks through the sky.  She sighed and drew out her sketch pad.  

She was barely into starting the picture--of what she had no idea--when the train started moving and a form fell into the seat across from her.

Feyre blinked and glanced up.

There were plenty of other open seats lining the train.  Granted the place she’d found herself was the only one with a small table set up, but still.  

Sitting across from her was a man far too attractive for his own good.  He wore a black suit with a deep navy-blue button up beneath.  No tie, only the top few buttons of his shirt undone giving a peak at a series of tattoos on his chest.  His black hair was styled in a neat wave revealing a chiseled jaw and glorious eyes.

Feyre tore her gaze away before she could be accused of staring.  But honestly, who could blame her?

Over the course of the train ride, Feyre finished her coffee and scribbled out at least four pages worth of drawings.  Unfortunately, inspiration didn’t strike.  Not that it was surprising.  She’d not drawn anything new in months.  Oh, she’d tried.  She could sit for hours on this train, on her balcony, or out in the middle of the forest with a pencil in one hand and paper in the other--and nothing.  Nothing would come.

Alis always told her that she couldn’t force herself to draw.  She couldn’t force herself to be inspired if she didn’t make the conscious choice.  But Alis didn’t understand that sometimes, it was too damned hard.

The train ride passed without excitement.  Not even the man across from her did anything interesting.  Figured.  He was so attractive his life had to be mundane.  At least, that was what Feyre told herself while she was not covertly looking at him

She was glad to get off the train when it reached the city.  After making sure she had her things, she slipped out and onto the platform without trouble.

#

Chaos was not something she enjoyed.  

Especially not lately.  As long as everything was in its place of simplicity, life could continue on as normal.

Honestly, if Feyre could have chosen a simple life involving nothing more than eating donuts she would have chosen it.  Because living in a state of missed calls and impatient clients and looming deadlines was far from her state of happiness.

With a bag of donuts from Rita’s bakery in one hand, Feyre collapsed in her seat at the end of the day.  She’d managed to leave work five minutes early giving her enough time to swing into Rita’s and grab a few treats.  And she would not apologize for it.

“Long day?” 

Feyre glanced up to see the man from that morning taking a seat across from her.  He had an amused sort of expression on his face which made it even harder to look away.  Feyre snatched a frosted chocolate donut from her bag and glared at him.

“No.” She took a giant bite leaving sugar to lace around her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.

He grinned and shook his head.

Feyre was able to finish her donut in peace and managed not to stare at the man the rest of the train ride home.

#

Life continued.  And much to Feyre’s dismay, nothing changed.

Her sketch book remained empty.  Her coffee remained dull.  Work did not improve.

Something needed to change.  But honestly, she couldn’t figure out what it was.  She’d left her ex months ago.  She’d gotten a new wardrobe, a new phone, moved in with her friend.  She’d started getting out more too.  Somewhat.  When Nesta called, which wasn’t often but at least her sister was trying.

It was five-thirty in the morning and she was seated on the train, again.  And the man who seemed to only own clothing that was black was seated across from her, again.  Since that first day of seeing him, he hadn’t tried talking to her again, which Feyre was semi grateful for.  She was certain she would just make herself look like a bigger idiot than before.

Had she really stuffed her face with that giant donut?

Not that she cared.  She could do whatever she wanted.

Except draw.

Feyre stared out the window of the train.  It was slowly starting to get lighter sooner and Feyre now had more scenery to watch instead of the reality of the empty sketchpad.

Inevitably, however, Feyre found her attention drawn to the man across from her.

There was something about him.  Feyre couldn’t place it, exactly, perhaps an energy of some kind.  Or it was his confidence.  Arrogance.  Something.  She found him mesmerizing.  How stupid was that?  A man she had said one word to and ignored for an entire month and she could help but watch him.

He did a cross word every morning.  Texting someone throughout--or else cheating and looking up the answers.  Other times she caught him reading a book about astrology or NASA’s recent magazine release.  She wanted to ask him about the astrology, it was such a fascinating topic, one that she liked learning about.  But she never knew how to strike up a conversation, so she remained silent.

She’d always been good at staying silent.  At least that was what she’d been told.

The thought came so suddenly that Feyre had to physically shake herself to make it disappear.  She sat up in her seat, hands clenching in her lap.

She snapped her attention away from the train window and forcibly removed her sketchpad from her bag.  In a fury, Feyre moved her pencil across the page.  It wasn’t the bed utensil to use, but it was better than bringing her entire art supply on the commute to work.  The pencil would suffice.

It wasn’t as though she liked being quiet.  It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anything to say.  Sometimes it was just easier.  Sometimes it was just better.  Sometimes the silence was how she communicated.  Sometimes people just didn’t understand that.

The scene came alive beneath her fingers.

Mountains and stars.  Storms and shadows.  All convalescing on a shape.  A person.  A…

Feyre frowned at the scene.  Someone was kneeling on a throne of night and she couldn’t see their face.

“Do you always glare at your art like that?”  The midnight voice broke Feyre out of her revere.  

Glance up, Feyre locked gazes with the violet eyes of the man across from her.  The crossword in his lap was complete.  Feyre realized for the first time that he was younger than she’d originally thought.  Maybe about five years older than she was.  And even though he oozed arrogance, there was almost a genuine sort of smile dancing across his lips.

“Only when it’s being difficult,” Feyre answered.  She offered a brief shrug and gestured to the crossword on his lap. “Do you always cheat at the crossword?”

He made an affronted sort of gasp. “I don’t cheat.”

“You’re always on your phone when you scribble answers in,” Feyre pointed out.  She smirked, unable to help it.

“I’m texting with a friend,” he said, “she’s always trying to finish the damned thing before me in the mornings.  All I do is offer a bit of...encouragement.”

“Right,” Feyre said doubtfully.  She shook her head, still smiling.

The man watched her, almost confused, before he leaned forward.  “And the art?  It’s the first time in over a month I’ve seen you actually draw something.”

“I was searching for the right inspiration,” she said.  And then as she found herself nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze--Feyre had what she’d been hunting for. “Sometimes it just takes a while to find.”

The train pulled to a stop where they usually got off.  Feyre collected her things and half expected the man to be right at her side when his phone went off.

He muttered something under his breath before answering it.

Feyre almost had half a mind to wait for him.  To linger on the platform and dredge up some excuse so that she could talk to him.  If only for a moment longer.  She still hadn’t asked him about the astrology book.

Instead she was swept up in the crowd of commuters.

#

For the next two weeks, Feyre was out of her mind with anxiety.

There really was no other way to describe it.  Because every morning and every evening when she would board the train there would be no sign of her mysterious companion.  Not even the sight of him running to try and catch a ride before the train completely left the station.  Not even a hint of him getting on a different compartment one day by accident.  Nothing.

So, naturally, her mind told her that it had something she’d done.  Something she’d said.  Hell.  She hadn’t even done anything that stupid.  Aside from stuffing a whole ass donut in her mouth.

She was an idiot.

Eventually she was able to push thoughts of her mysterious companion aside.  Not only was she drawing again, but her workload had increased.  And now she was getting up earlier and staying later and her schedule was entirely too chaotic.  

She really missed the simpler days of dashing into Rita’s or relaxing on the train bench not staring at the man across from her.

After two weeks of commuting alone and another two weeks of being run ragged at work, Feyre finally found herself being able to return to a normal timeline.  Somewhat.  At least she was going to be able catch her usual train home and get home before ten o’clock.

Feyre fell into her seat and leaned up against the window of the train.  She didn’t mean to fall asleep.  Not really.  But as soon as she was seated and relaxed her eyes drifted shut and she was gone.

The next thing Feyre knew there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop,” said an all too familiar voice.

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she nearly flung out a fist to the shape in front of her.

“I take it you slept well?” Her mysterious companion snatched out a hand and caught hers before it made contact.  He gave her a cheeky grin. “You didn’t even twitch between all the other stops.”

Feyre blinked up at him.  Sleep still addled her brain and he was making no sense whatsoever.

“What?” she finally managed to spit out.

“Your stop?” he said, jutting a thumb to the train doors. 

Feyre cursed, loudly, and jumped up. “I barely even closed my eyes,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me,” her companion grabbed her bag for her and helped her off the train before it took them all the way south to Hybern.

“Thanks,” Feyre said as they stepped out onto the platform.  She accepted her bag from him and gave him a smile. “It’s been a long couple of weeks I guess.”

In the still fading evening light, Feyre was able to see his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled softly.  His black hair was tousled easily as if he’d been running his hands through it recently.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, “in fact I was surprised to even see you.  It’d been a few weeks.”

Feyre blinked.  He’d noticed she wasn’t on at her usual time?

“You were gone for a while too,” she said without thinking.  You idiot.

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, but not for long.  A gleam flashed in his eyes.

“You noticed, did you?”

“You noticed me,” she shot back quickly.

They stood in silence as the train moved on with a loud whistle and the last few men and women passed them by hurrying to catch their connecting busses or get to their cars.

His smile stretched into a full grin. “I’m Rhysand.”

“Feyre,” she said, returning the smile.   She then noticed the small paper bag he held in one hand.  Immediately, Feyre recognized the logo on the outside.  “Rita’s?  That’s my favorite place to stop at after work.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rhysand said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I noticed and decided to give it a try.”

“And?” Feyre pressed.

“I have you to blame for my new addiction,” he said.

Feyre laughed, shaking her head.  “I take full responsibility, though I will not apologize.”

Rhysand paused only for a moment before he glanced at her and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Have you been to Dreamer’s? It’s a late-night coffee shop on Main.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been meaning to,” Feyre admitted.

“My treat,” he said almost immediately.  “I mean, if you want.  You can tell me about what helped you find the inspiration to start drawing again.”

Feyre blinked at him remembering that train ride over a month ago now where she’d finally been able to draw more than a few measly lines.  And she realized now as she watched a halo of light glimmer from the setting sun around his head that all this time she’d been trying to draw him in the outline of mountains and stars.

“Deal,” Feyre said. “But you should know, I don’t give up my secrets lightly.”

Rhysand quirked a brow. “Noted.”

They spent hours sharing secrets.  The small kinds, the simple kinds.

Feyre learned that Rhysand’s brother had broken his leg playing football and needed surgery which was why he’d disappeared for a few weeks.  She learned that it was his mother who taught him about astrology before she died not that long ago.  And now he spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.  

She’d told him about her love of painting, of art, of creating.  Anything that made her feel alive.  She’d told him about walking out on her old life and how here she was six months later and still desperate for change.

They were both trying, it turned out, to become something different.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--after sunset when the inky black sky gave way to the millions of stars overhead--that Feyre found herself home.  Rhysand, of course, made sure she’d arrived safe and she’d rewarded him with a brush of her lips to his cheek and a small smile over her shoulder.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--amid the cool mid-spring air that promised a new dawn--that Feyre would pull out her sketch pad.  She would draw sharp lines and angular features and a man kneeling amid the night.  She would draw power and beauty in something, someone, she didn’t know perfectly.  But one day.  One day, maybe she would.

#

thanks for reading my dears!  i am always eager and open from prompts so thanks for sendin gthem!  I really do enjoy them!

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[nocturna-starr]

The Picture

Prompter: @gottacatchghosts

Prompt: Danny/Jazz swap AU: Jazz is the half ghost and Danny is the older sibling. Go wild on your take of how this would all play out

Words: 1811

Notes: Related to THIS fic

“Hey Jazz, can you stand still for a minute? The lighting by you is perfect!”

“Daniel!”

A flash went off. Jazz blinked away the spots. Where had he come from? She would have sworn that it had only been her in the kitchen a few seconds ago. How had he come in so fast, or alternatively, how long had Daniel been watching her? Sometimes Jazz wondered who really was the ghost in their family, him or her?

“That was perfect!” Daniel cheered, “Now I’ll need a couple more photos and then you can go.”

“I thought you wanted to be a painter, Daniel?” Jazz frowned, “Since when did you care about photography?”

“Since I was the first one in all of Amity Park to catch a photo of the ghost girl in action! I discovered that I really do have a natural talent for it.” Daniel gloated as he changed the filters on his camera. Jazz smiled. It had been a long time since she had seen this side of her brother.

“Okaaayyy” She tried to sound like she was doing him a favour. If he knew that she was actually happy for him, then Daniel would never let it go.

“I knew you would agree!” Daniel grinned, “Now I have a bunch a filters that I need to try out! How busy is your day today?”

“Well I was planning to meet spike at the mall…”

“Perfect! I swear these photos are going to make you a star!” Daniel smirked, “Or at least get your name in the history books when these pictures come through.”

xXx

“I’m so sorry I’m late Spike! Daniel is on another stupid project kick.” Jazz huffed as she sat down in the mall’s cafeteria. Her friend looked up from the phone game he was playing. She wondered how long he had been waiting for her. Spike rarely ever tried out mobile games unless he was absolutely bored.

“And he says that he is nothing like his parents. Dude really is clueless to his own tendencies, isn’t he?” Spike laughed, “Maybe it’s a Fenton trait?”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz asked.

“You still haven’t noticed my- You know what? I’ll let you figure it out.” Spike took a huge gulp from his soda.

“Come on Spike! That’s not fair!” Jazz whined. How could she even begin to guess something if she didn’t have a hint? She wasn’t a genius like her parents or her brother. She couldn’t help it she accidentally overlooked something that she didn’t even know was supposed to be there!

“Nothing is fair in love and war.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz wondered. Spike only smirked. He was about to explain (or maybe torment Jazz some more) when he was interrupted by one of Daniel’s friends.

“Hey Jazz! Have you seen Danny?” asked her brother’s not-so-secret admirer, Sam Manson. Jazz sighed. Judging by the new camera hanging from her neck, Sam seemed to be encouraging Daniel’s new endeavor. That meant he would be taking pictures for the next month or so. It was something that Jazz was not looking forward to.

“He’s in the house taking photos of plants. Or he decided he wanted to go on another jungle adventure and went into the ghost zone.” Jazz rolled her eyes. She muttered under her breath, “Then I’ll have to save him again this week…”

“Do you think he’s dumb enough to do that again?” Spike laughed, “Last time he got chased half-way across the zone by Klemper!”

“But he got some awesome pictures!” Sam grinned. She practically skipped away. Jazz giggled at her enthusiasm. She could see what Daniel liked about Sam. Maybe by this summer they would finally get together. Then they wouldn’t have another Ember situation.

“Your brother is going to get eaten by a ghost one day and all his friends are going to care about is that he got a good picture.” Spike snickered, “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jazz joined into his laughter, “Yeah, but don’t feel too bad for him. You should have seen him when Tucker got attacked by Technus. He managed to get the two of them to stand still long enough for him to take a sketch.”

“And he didn’t snap a photo why?”

“As much as he hates to admit it, Daniel is just like our parents! He wanted to prove a point or something.”

Spike nodded in agreement, “Wanna get some ice cream?”

“You bet I do!”

xXx

The two best friends sauntered in the park, enjoying the beautiful weather and the lack of ghost attacks. It was peaceful times like these that Jazz liked the most. Times where she could just be a regular fifteen-year-old kid.

Of course, peace doesn’t last long in Amity Park.

“Wanna take a selfie?” Spike asked, “It’s been a while since our last!”

Jazz smiled, trying not to feel too guilty. Since becoming Jazz Phantom, she had veered away from cameras. In all of her research, she had discovered that photos tended to… change while in the presence of other ghosts. Yet the photos Daniel had taken of her, always seemed to end well. Maybe she was just being too paranoid?

“Say cheese!” Spike said, sounding way too bright to be considered a goth.

“Cheese!”

Spike took the picture, then went to see the results, “Uh… Jazz?”

He handed over the picture to her trembling. Nervous, Jazz took a look and paled.

Spike looked happier than he has in a long time. She on the other hand… If you showed the picture to anyone else, they would probably think that Spike had gotten a picture with Jazz Phantom herself! Jazz’s eyes were the bright red of her ghost form. Her hair was blue as the ocean. Her clothes looked faded, though if Jazz squinted, she could make out her logo.

All in all, this was a disaster.

“We have to get those photos from Daniel!” Jazz squeaked. She dived into a bush, transforming into her other half. Without a second thought she took to the skies, heading towards her home.

“Guess my plans have been cancelled,” Spike muttered, “Better tell mom not to cancel that trip to my therapist.”

xXx

“Daniel?” Jazz called while entering the house, “Are you here?”

Fentonworks was too quiet… Like her entire family was ready to attack her. She shivered, were they watching her? Jazz was afraid to even consider this. Maybe… maybe… Maybe her parents were out, and Daniel was with his friends?

“I’m up here,” Daniel called from up the stairs.

That didn’t feel like a trap at all.

With the very little courage she had left, Jazz carefully made her way up the stairs. Her yes darted around, waiting to catch the slightest movement. She prayed that her life was not about to fall apart. How could she have been so trusting? Daniel was her brother, but he had also been raised by ghost hunters. What if he warned her that she would have to leave? What if the government was here to take her away? These seconds could be the last of the life she had once known.

“Hey Jazz! The filters worked like a charm!” Daniel called from the top of the stairs.  The ghostly heroine nearly fell down the stairs in surprise.

“Danny?!”

“Oh sorry. Totally didn’t mean to scare you little sis! Sam, Tucker and I have finally come up with a filter that can properly take pictures of anyone. No more red eyes, or blurry pictures! And it’s not going to malfunction around you like all of our other inventions!” Daniel was talking at a mile a minute.

Jazz sighed in relief. He hadn’t mentioned how her picture had looked. Did it mean that her brother had discovered a way to properly photograph half ghosts? She would need to steal a dozen of these camera filters which, knowing her brother, he would have around.

Jazz practically skipped down the stairs, “I was just seeing where everyone was! I’m going to go find Spike again! Tell mom and dad that I’ll be home for dinner!”

“Okay? But don’t you want to hear more?” Daniel asked.

She answered his question by racing out of the door. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her brother’s efforts. But Daniel could be just like Jack Fenton when explaining how something worked. She supposed she could be the same way when talking about psychology.

xXx

Daniel shook his head and sighed as his sister slammed the door. While he could understand her concerns, it still hurt to be rejected that way. It wasn’t like he could tell her that he knew her secret. She would freak out and try to trick him into thinking he just saw things. Now wasn’t the time for him to get down. He had just invented something revolutionary!

“How did you know that adding ectoranium to the filter would work?” Tucker asked, turning on the hall light, “And why did you have to tell her in the dark?”

“Cause it’s more fun to tell her that way. Who’d think that the ghost girl was afraid of the dark?” Sam answered for him, as she exited his room.

“Honestly, I forgot to turn on the lights.”

His two best friends howled but Daniel frowned. How could he have been so stupid? He’d after to reassure Jazz that everything was okay in a subtle way. Afterall, Jazz had a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions.

“I’m curious too,” Sam began, after she had calmed down a little, “how did you come up with the idea?”

“Ectoranium is the opposite or ectoplasm. I figured that the ectoranium would cancel out the effects that Jazz’s powers had on the camera. Now she can have her picture taken at school or join in family photos without a need for an excuse.” Daniel replied.

“That was very sweet of you Danny.” Sam gushed.

Daniel didn’t reply. Instead he headed back into his room. He put his hand under the mattress and pulled out the photo album he had been working on for the past couple of months. Carefully he placed one of the photos he had taken that day into the album. He flipped the picture over and wrote a note just like he had done to the other pictures.

This is the first photo taken with the new lens. Use the lens to reveal the true door. If the event has not happened, ignore this.

“Dude, the cryptic messages are a little freaky.” Tucker said.

“Call them safeguards, for just in case.” Daniel closed the book and hid it under his mattress again. Once he was done hiding his gift, he turned to his friends and smirked.

“Anyone want to see if we can get a picture of that Box Ghost again?”

“We’re in!”

[friendofspidermannedleeds]

Fictober Day 23

Prompt #23: “this time, do what I say" Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None Characters: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker Words: 500 Summary: MJ teaches Peter how to draw. 

Drawing Lessons

It’s the exact sort of weather MJ would have chosen for an impromptu drawing lesson on the roof of Midtown Tech. The partly cloudy October sky illuminates her sketchbooks perfectly, and the ever-present but gentle breeze ruffles the pages just enough to communicate its presence without interrupting her work.

Idyllic.

It’s about time something was, because she and Peter’s lives have been anything but for the past several months.

MJ hasn’t felt this relaxed in ages.

She pauses work on her own sketch to look over at Peter, his face scrunched up in concentration. He looks anything but relaxed, and she wonders if he’s rethinking his insistence that she teach him portrait sketches first.

“How’s it going?”

“Um—not great? I think shading might be beyond me.” He turns her borrowed sketchbook around to reveal a drawing no amount of shading, good or bad, could ever fix. The facial features are disproportionate and misplaced, the nose looks more like a squiggle than anything else, and the head is the shape of a potato. The result is almost ghoulish, a look MJ knows her sunshiny boyfriend absolutely did not intend to create.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

She bites her lip. Her penchant for complete honesty is really going to make this one difficult.

“It’s not terrible, but it’s…um…” She sets her notebook down and moves so she’s looking over his shoulder. “It’s a start.”

He sighs dramatically.

“It is terrible.”

“Peter, it’s literally your first try,” she pokes him in the stomach with her pencil. “Look—remember what I said about the eyes being in the center of the head, not at the top?” She retrieves her own sketch for reference. “You were supposed to just draw the head shape and outline the eyes anyway, you got too ambitious. We can start from scratch, and it’ll be better if this time, you do what I say.”

He laughs. “Yes, my Spider-Lady.”

MJ watches as he flips to a blank page in the sketchbook resignedly. She knows he asked for this tutorial, but also knows he’s still wading through a weariness that might only be made worse by trying to be perfect for her.

“Here,” she says, “you’re still holding the pencil too tightly. Loosen up your grip, like this.” She brings an arm around his shoulder so she’s holding her hand over his, and his muscles relax under her touch. “There you go.”

He grins.

“I thought you said this type of thing is dorky.”

She had, two weeks ago when he cuddled up behind her to show how to shoot webs and she called him a walking cliché.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

She does, pulling him in for a kiss.

They should probably get off the roof and head back to class—they’re technically not supposed to be up here at all. But the staff have left them alone so far, and she’s going to soak up these rooftop afternoons with Peter for as long as they last.  

[loonysama]

Heart Taker

FFC 2022 Prompt 6: something arrives in the mail.

Pairing: Snow White/Huntsman

Word Count: a cool 900

Summary: Snow is embarrassed when her crush finds out that she gave him a valentine. Maybe a mysterious letter that comes in the mail that day will soothe her heartache.

***********************************************************************

“Hey sweetheart, how was school today?” Uncle Doc asked.

“Fine!” she said with a wave on the way to her room.

“Hold on! Something came in the mail for you,” he said as she passed him.

“Great!” she said facetiously as she swiped the letter out of his hands and tucked it into the pages of her biology textbook. She instantly felt bad about it, but she also didn’t feel like talking about it. And if she didn’t make it to her room right away she’d have to deal with the six dorks (i.e., her younger cousins). Her poor aunt and uncle really loved each other.

As she slammed the door shut, Snow rolled her eyes and pondered how stupid she could possibly be. She thought Hunt liked her. He was always teasing her. At first it was annoying, but then she started to like it and she teased back. And that made him tease more.

Keep reading below or continue at AO3.

In fact, she had developed the hugest crush on him. And she was so sure he liked her back that she’d been in a daze for the past three months. She wasn’t even necessarily hoping he would ask her out. She just enjoyed the feeling of being in love (or like, or whatever that feeling was). She should have said something to him a long time ago instead of hoping he would chase after her.

She put on some Pat Benetar and did a belly flopped onto her bed. Then she pondered the events that led up to the most embarrassing moment of her entire life.

Her first mistake was telling Queenie, her neighbor and best friend, that she had a huge crush on her step-brother. It was supposed to be a secret. And the very elaborate Valentine’s Day card she made for him was also supposed to be a secret, from his Secret Admirer. In hindsight, she should have just said it was from her. Or not told Queenie, who was no longer her best friend.

He opened the valentine, which she slid into his locker that morning, in biology class. He seemed to like it and looked around the room to see who it was from. Snow looked down and pretended to be reading about the special Valentine's Day lab they were working on that day: dissecting a deer’s heart. Gross.

Snow felt like Hunt and Queenie were dissecting her heart in front of the whole class when Queenie told him it was from her, and everyone laughed about it. She told the teacher she was sick and spent the rest of class in the nurse’s office so she could get away from Queenie, Hunt, and the dead deer’s heart that was making her sick.

Once she had listened to “Heartbreaker” 10 times or so on loop (she knew because she fell asleep for some of that time and the song was still playing) she decided she would get started on all the make-up work she needed to do because she missed most of biology class. She opened the textbook and the letter she'd forgotten about fell onto her lap.

“Who would send me mail?”

It was addressed to her, but there wasn’t a stamp or anything. Someone must have dropped it in the mailbox instead of mailing it.

“How odd.”

She slid the folded up piece of notebook paper out of the envelope, which she had opened as carefully as she could. The first fold revealed an ink sketch of a heart. Her interest piqued, she carefully unfolded the rest of the paper.

Hey Snow

You left your heart in biology, so I wanted to make sure you got it back.

P.S. my number is 486-8762

Snow kicked and squealed because she knew who this was from. At least she thought she did. So she texted.

Snow: Thanks for the letter. And for returning my heart.

Hunt: So… can I have mine back then?

“What? He’s just teasing me again?”

Hunt: its only fair... you took my heart a long time ago

Snow didn’t even try to settle the birdies that were singing inside her belly. He liked her! She felt flushed and brave, so she took a chance.

Snow: Come over here and take it then ;)

She waited anxiously for his reply, worried that she had gone too far, when the doorbell rang.

She raced through the house before anyone else could answer the door.

"Who is it?" Uncle Doc asked.

"Just solicitors!"

"Oh! Just tell them to go away!"

Then she took a second to calm herself and fluff her hair.

"Hey, Hunt," she smiled as she shut the door behind her.

He smiled but didn't speak. There really was nobody like him anywhere.

"What's the matter, Hunt? Cat's got your tongue?"

He still didn't seem to have anything to say, and now Snow was thinking about his tongue, so she bit into his mouth like a juicy red apple.

"So, um, you can keep my heart, you know... if you want," he said once he caught his breath.

Snow smiled and nodded.

"Then, can I have yours back?"

"You'll have to take it back," she teased as she turned to go back into the house.

"Oh yeah?" he said as he jumped between her and the door. He stopped her with his hand at the center of her chest.

Snow smiled and she took another bite.

[comic-book-jawns]

Valentine’s Day 1988

“Flowers seemed... obvious, so - ”

Dani’s eyebrows had risen instinctively. She’d just assumed and regretted it immediately when she saw the panicked look on Jamie’s face.

Remembering how stressed out Jamie had gotten on their one-month anniversary, Dani had purposefully asked that they keep their first Valentine’s Day low-key. She figured Jamie was liable to be stressed as it was with it presumably being their busiest day since opening The Leafling at the beginning of the month.

It had, in fact, been even busier than they’d predicted, which had helped boost Jamie’s confidence but taxed her all the same considering the bulk of the work had fallen to her — though Jamie had insisted Dani had the far more difficult task having to interact with customers so often between taking calls and working the register.

In any case, Dani had insisted Jamie take a nap in the back room after they’d finally closed up for the day. Jamie had pushed back, of course, but passed out on her shoulder before she’d even finished a glass of wine.

Now, about an hour later, Jamie was standing before her, arms behind her back, wide-eyed and pale — Dani having undone all of her efforts to relax Jamie with a single muscle movement.

“I can do an arrangement.”

“No, no, Jamie - ”

Dani got off the couch, holding her hand out as she stepped toward her.

“I’ll do it right now!”

Dani gently gripped her upper arms just as Jamie turned toward the main room.

“Jamie, it’s okay!”

Jamie was still panicking but turned back to look at her. Dani slowly rubbed her arms.

“Whatever your present is, I’ll love it.” Dani smiled softly. “Because it’s from you.”

Jamie started to calm down after a few moments, her lips turning up slightly, then looked down and cleared her throat.

“I just figured ya must’a gotten flowers... uh, before.”

Dani’s eyebrows rose once more. Jamie was right. It had been Eddie’s go-to since they were teenagers, and it had been sweet at first. And then it had started to feel like he was checking off a box — a well-intentioned gesture but without much thought put into it.

And here was Jamie, who put significant thought into all of her floral arrangements, including the one she’d given to Dani two weeks ago in honor of The Leafling’s grand opening.

And yet, Jamie had chosen to do something different for today so that it would feel more special to Dani. She could feel tears already springing to her eyes as Jamie cleared her throat.

“Anyway, I, uh - ”

She was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Jamie had left the door to the back room open when she’d come in with the gift, so they could see a delivery man outside with their Chinese takeout.

“I’ll get it.” Jamie turned to her and brought her arms out from behind her back, revealing small, rectangular gift about the size of a book. “Didn’t want it to get damaged, so I just kept it in here. Second page.”

Still not meeting her eyes, Jamie handed it to her, then walked out of the room. Dani watched her for a moment, then turned back to the present. She gently unfolded the wrapping paper, revealing a sketch pad. Dani flipped it over to the front cover, carefully opened it, turned to the second page and gasped.

She was looking at herself. A sketch of her tending to an orchid. An incredibly life-like, beautifully shaded, simple yet intricate portrait, practically a snapshot...

Last month, before they’d officially opened, Jamie had been giving her a lesson. She’d been so focused that she hadn’t immediately noticed Jamie step away. Just before she’d looked up, she’d heard a camera shutter. Jamie had said she was just taking photos for posterity and proceeded to take some of the shop itself.

She’d even let Dani take a few of her — granted, Dani had not exactly been asking — but Jamie hadn’t let Dani see the photos when she’d had them developed. She’d explained that she wanted them to be a surprise, but Dani had never imagined this.

She held the book farther out as she felt tears start to trickle down her face and looked up as she heard Jamie’s footsteps returning. Jamie finally met her gaze, but she was blushing furiously and rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand.

“Haven’t drawn in awhile, so it’s not ma - ”

“Jamie... ”

Dani could barely say it, but Jamie seemed to understand. Through blurry eyes, Dani saw her lower her hand and step into the room, closing the door behind her, then put the takeout bag down on the couch and step toward Dani. She still looked a bit nervous, a bit uncertain, but not embarrassed.

Dani carefully closed the book, closed the distance between them and raised her left hand, lightly brushing Jamie’s cheek as she cupped it. She heard Jamie’s breath catch, then leaned in. Several moments later, she gently pulled back, resting her forehead against Jamie’s as they caught their breath.

“So ya liked it, then?”

Jamie’s voice was even lower than usual. Dani giggled and heard Jamie, whose hands were wrapped around her back, chuckle a moment later. Dani pulled back slightly, still cupping Jamie’s face, and smiled widely.

“Thank you.”

Jamie was blushing again, but it was now accompanied by her lopsided grin.

“Thank you, Dani, for, uh... ” She cleared her throat. “For today.”

She didn’t elaborate, but she didn’t have to. Smiling even wider, Dani leaned in again for a quick kiss.

“I have something for you, too.”

Jamie smirked.

“Well, I should hope so.”

Laughing, Dani pulled back, wiping her face, then kissed the cover of Jamie’s sketch book as she leaned down to put it on the couch. She heard Jamie stifle a whimper, so she ruffled her hair when she leaned back up and heard Jamie giggle as she walked past.

She hadn’t gotten Jamie anything too big, not wanting to overwhelm her or make her feel insecure. And given the turn the night had almost taken a few minutes ago, Dani knew she’d made the right choice.

Above all, she’d wanted it to be personal. But she had to admit that she was feeling a bit nervous now.

She was not in an enviable position following the person she loved more than she’d ever loved anyone, who’d given her the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received. So, it was with a quickening pulse that she retrieved her gift from her purse and walked back to Jamie.

“I - I know it’s really lame.” She laughed nervously. “I just - I thought you might like it. But I’m not the best with, umm, technology or - ”

“Poppins.” She felt Jamie put her hands around her own, which Dani hadn’t realized were trembling slightly. Jamie was smiling warmly. “You... are brilliant at givin’ me gifts.”

And Jamie meant it. There was the chest Dani had given her for her birthday that meant more to Jamie than she would ever be able to say.

There was the light blue Adidas jumper with white racing stripes, which Jamie was wearing right now, that Dani had given her for Christmas — “I thought since you do have to wash your crewneck... on occasion.” Jamie had narrowed her eyes, and Dani had giggled. “And my hoodie’s a bit small for your shoulders.”

There were the suspenders Dani had just given her for The Leafling’s grand opening. And then there was everything else: the futile but earnest attempts at tea; the laughing at her jokes, even when they were at Dani’s own expense; the easing her through nightmares and panic attacks without complaint, ever; the holding her whenever, without her ever having to ask — Dani just knew.

And above all, there was Dani herself. Jamie had felt lucky to be in her presence from the moment she’d met her but had never imagined it would go beyond that. And it never would have if not for Dani. Before they’d even left Bly, Dani had already given her more than she’d ever wanted.

Jamie’s smile widened now as Dani laughed shyly.

“Can I - ”

Dani nodded and relinquished her hold on the small gift-wrapped box. Jamie brought it closer, smiling up at Dani as she untied the ribbon around it, then looked back down as she gently unwrapped it, opened the lid and squealed.

“Is this a mix tape?!”

Dani smiled rather proudly now.

“I know you like music for your runs.” She couldn’t help laughing the last word as she realized Jamie, who’d let the box drop to the floor in her rush to examine the cassette, was so giddy she was bouncing slightly. “I, umm, tried to pick songs I thought you’d like, but - ”

She was cut off by a bruising kiss, then almost knocked over as Jamie ran past her.

“Oh, sorry!” Jamie had frozen and turned back just inside the main room. “Are ya - ”

But Dani was laughing and waved her on. Beaming, Jamie turned back and continued on to the boombox on the back counter. More than a few moments later — with shaking hands, Jamie had had difficulty putting the cassette in place — “Heart of Glass” by Blondie was blaring through the speakers, and Jamie almost screamed.

Dani almost fell over again when Jamie ran back, throwing her arms around her.

“Thanks, Dani!”

Dani quelled her laughter but was still smiling impossibly wide as she wrapped her arms around Jamie’s waist.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jay... I love you.”

Dani didn’t want to kill Jamie’s vibe. She’d only said it twice before — first on Christmas Eve and then a couple weeks later after their first major fight, and both times Jamie had cried profusely.

But she couldn’t let today pass by without saying it. Fortunately, when Jamie pulled back a moment later, she was still smiling, though definitely teary-eyed.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Poppins.” She bounced up onto her tiptoes and kissed Dani’s forehead. A few moments later, she pulled back, wiping her face, coughed out a laugh and took Dani’s hand. “C’mon!”

She then pulled an equally eager Dani out onto the “dance floor.”

[crispyscissorsalienwinner]

Cinderella or was it Deku

Izuku's mother died in labor causing his father to blame him for the cause of her death. Izuku was treated very poorly by his father. His father adopted another son after the boy tried to pickpocket him, Tomura. Years later Izuku would end up doing all the housework even though his father had the money to hire other workers. His father and stepbrother would start to call him Deku to make him feel useless. Izuku, however, did have his safe space, the woods outback. He would run in there multiple times when he finished his morning chores to sketch the beautiful sights. One day the morning chores were especially tiring. He started to draw from under a tree but soon fell into a nap. He woke up to find a stranger standing next to him looking through his book, and began a conversation:

K- sorry to look without permission but these are really good.

I- it’s fine, but may I ask who you are?

K-*laughing* you don't know!

I-*shakes head slowly*

K- of well my name's Katsuki.

I- I'm Izuku.

K- may I ask why you are out here alone?

I- just to get a break from work, aren't you here to get away from the palace?

K-*shocked* what makes you think I was at the palace??!

I- sorry, it's just your clothing I assumed you worked there.

K- oh…..well...I do…...work there

I- must be interesting.

K- where do you work?

I- just in the manner in the direction*pointing from where he came*

K- oh, the Midoriya house.

I- yeah, you heard of them.

K- the prince gets a lot of letters about how eligible their son Tomura is. Do you know anything about him?

I- he's a spoiled brat with no sense of how a person should be treated, fairly decent looks but only after two and a half hours of putting his make-up on and getting his hair done.

K- that sounds right, I knew those letters were off.

Izuku wanted to know the time and Katsuki pulled out a pocket watch. Izuku jumped up, it was a few minutes past when he should have been back. He started to apologize and was going to run but Katuski stopped him. He asked if he could see him again to which Izuku said yes but right now he needed to go. Katsuki watched as Izuku left to hear a certain red-head behind him.

Ki- well who was that Your Majesty?

Ka- none of your business Kirishima!

Ki- well your safety is my business, so who was it?

Ka- just someone that works at the Midoriya House.

Ki- and allowed to call you by your first, they must be special?

Ka- no there not, but I couldn't let a stranger know I was the prince! Anyway, why are you here?

Ki- oh yeah, they found out you were missing and sent me to go get you.

Ka- fine let's head back.

Meanwhile, Izuku had just arrived at the manner to see Tomura waiting for him in the kitchen. He mocked him and left Izuku to start dinner. He was able to complete it in time and brought it to his father and stepbrother.

For the next few months, Izuku and Katuski would have small meetups, maybe once a week. One day in the morning after breakfast Izuku dropped a plate causing it to smash, his father got very angry and hit his arm with his belt. That same day Izuku saw Katuski, he noticed his arms shaking and asked but when Izuku brushed it off he moved his sleeve to reveal a large injury. Katsuki was shocked and forced Izuku to explain that Mr. Midoriya would do things like this when he messed up. They started seeing each other less and less when the ball to get Katsuki a marriage came along. Katsuki was able to persuade his mother to invite the local people as well as the nobles. Izuku was excited. But when the night of the ball came his father hurt him along with Tomura ripping his clothes. He cried in the back garden, then a skinny man turned up to see if he could be helped. Izuku helped the man for it to be revealed that he was a sorcerer looking to help those that were pure-hearted. The man helped Izuku with his clothes and transportation to the ball. Izuku got inside the ball but he missed the announcements so he had to go through a side entrance. Kirishima spotted him and went up to him to talk:

Ki- are you by any chance Izuku?

I- yes, how do you know that?

Ki- katsuki talks about you a lot.

I- oh, do you know where I might find him?

Ki- if you go out to the gardens, I'll go get him for you.

I- why would you help me?

Ki- he's only happy around you.

Izuku left for the gardens while Kirishima went to help Katuski get away from Tomura's horrible dancing. Katsuki was grateful but confused until Kirishima explained who was outside. He left with Kirishima covering for him and went outside to see Izuku waiting.

I- well I hope I'm not interrupting your majesty*cockily*

K- it's the clothes isn't it

I- a little

K- well my turn, why is a simple worker wearing such expensive clothing?

I- well I might have borrowed some of my stepbrother’s clothes.*lying*

K- *confused* stepbrother?

I- whoops

K- now that sounds interesting. So I'm not the only one hiding information.

I- Tomura was adopted by my father after my mother died in labor with me, meaning he blames and hates me.

K- that explains it and now for another question, why don't you leave?

I- the house was on my mother's side and I have a feeling she wouldn't want a man like that to be in full control of it.

For the rest of the evening Izuku and Katsuki enjoyed each other until Izuku realized the time and that soon his father would be leaving. He tried to get away, Katuski tried to grab his wrist but only ripped the button of his cuff off, allowing him to get away. He quickly ran to his coach in order to make it home. He thought he made it before his father but when he entered he saw his father waiting for him.

F- what is this *holding a drawing Izuku did of Katsuki he did a while ago*.

I- just a drawing

F- that happens to be the spitting image of the prince, who you have never seen.

Izuku didn't need to explain because his father already knew and had apparently seen them together at the ball. He started to reveal his plan of getting Tomura married to a rich lord, allowing Izuku to have Katsuki and for his father to be in charge of 'that boy' and finished with "that way we both get what we want.'' Izuku had had enough of his father and started to rebel against his father by saying "no, he's not just a boy. He's nice, smart and cares far more about this kingdom than you. I'll never let you near him". His father responded with "the wrong answer" and proceeded to rip up the drawing, but Izuku didn't care if it was just a drawing. Then he started to walk towards Izuku which did scare him. His father proceeded to punch Izuku in the face hard enough to send them to the floor, then Izuku got kicked in the stomach. He was dragged to a wall and one of his wrists was chained up, this was common when his father wanted to make sure he wasn't seen when guests came over, and then his door was locked. The next day Izuku heard the unexpected sound of horses, this confused Izuku until he heard Kirishima's voice to realize that they were looking for him. Izuku found some strength within him and started tugging to no use. He saw the screws and started looking for something to unscrew them. He found a thin button and it worked. The chain came off the wall but stayed around his wrist. He started ramming into his locked door, which didn't take long seeing how rotten the wood was. He started to run down the stairs and through the halls to find Kirishima. He eventually found them and overheard a small portion of their conversation:

Ki- I'm sorry but that answer was incorrect.

F- it doesn't matter, my son is the best fit for the prince.

I- sorry to intrude but--

Ki- Izuku good to see you again.

F- what are you doing out?!!

Ki- he's here for the question, am I wrong?

I- no, go ahead.

Ki- what did the Prince's lover leave behind?

I- a button from the wrist cuff *rises his wrist without a chain to show the missing button*.

Ki- would you mind following me.

Before Izuku could get going his father had grabbed the chain stopping him and hurting him from trying to pull the chain. He started shouting about not approving of such actions. Kirishima was about to pull out his sword for intimation but Izuku beat him to it with his words. "It doesn't matter what you think, you have no control of me". His father was shocked and only responded with "but I'm your father". Izuku quickly responded with "you never were and never will be my father". Everyone's shock was washed away when Katsuki made his presence known "about time." Katsuki demanded that Izuku's father remove the chain and to never come near him again. Tomura did it for the father out of fear. Izuku and Katsuki went outside, shared a kiss and headed to the castle for Izuku to meet the Queen and to prepare for the wedding.

Epilogue - Izuku and Katsuki step outside of a carriage to see the manner looking as good as it used to. Katsuki was impressed but confused at how it looked so good. Izuku explained by pointing at his friend Uraraka who Izuku gave permission to live there and take care of it for him.

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Two

Link to Masterpost

So I realized today I hit 50 followers! Wow. That’s amazing, and I love you all so much. Plus, it was so inspiring I got to work on some more prompts for this wonderful little AU. I combined two prompts in this part:

1. “Are those slippers?” / “Is that you being mean? AGAIN?” 

-and-

2. “You don’t know how to change a tire?” / “Give it a rest, would you?”

As I mentioned last time, I am still taking prompts for this universe! It’s been a great time playing in this particular AU, and of course I have the rest of the story vaguely sketched out but it’s been way too much fun incorporating these prompts. Hope y’all enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin was still marveling at the turn in her morning as she got dressed for work in the afternoon. She and Rowan had spent an hour or so finally getting to know each other a little like they probably should’ve when he first moved in, only stopping when he had to leave to go on a run with one of his coworkers. They still had quite a ways to go, but Aelin already felt more at ease than she had previously.

She still felt a twinge of embarrassment at how it had happened, but she had gotten herself into more awkward situations before and Rowan had seemed content to not bring it up further.

Aelin hummed along with the music playing on her phone as she wriggled into the dark pants that served as the bottom of her work outfit and then sat to braid her hair back. In her month and a half working behind the bar at her current job, she had learned in a single shift that leaving her hair down was absolutely not worth it; the golden waves that she was so proud of had an annoying tendency of getting in the way while shaking drinks, and choosing to tie them back instead left her hair much neater at the end of a long shift. Lately she had taken to braiding the long strands into a crown around her head, the style elegant enough to please her but practical enough to survive the night.

Smiling with satisfaction, Aelin pinned the last few strands in place and stood to leave. She took a few extra moments to glance in the mirror and make certain that her shirt was presentable enough for work before grabbing her keys and heading down the stairs.

She made it all the way to the driveway before her good mood evaporated.

“Fuck,” she whined as she stared at her car. It had been fine when she had gotten in, or she thought it had been. But now in the daylight the left rear tire was obviously flat, almost cartoonishly so. There was no way she would be getting in to work on time, not with her car out of commission.

If he had been home she would have asked Aedion for a ride, but he was absent and his car was garaged wherever it was he put it while away so that he could save on his insurance payments. That left trying to get in touch with her coworkers to see if they could pick her up.

Taking a deep breath and preparing to grovel, Aelin scrolled in her phone to Lysandra’s contact information and was about to press the call button when she heard a surprisingly welcome voice from the edge of the driveway.

While Rowan’s voice was a relief, his words certainly were not. “Are those… slippers?” he asked.

Aelin crossed her arms, not ready to deal with this kind of interaction when she was still trying to figure out how she was going to get to work. “Is that you being mean again?” she retorted, shuffling her feet. The motion only served to draw attention to her choice of footwear, however, and when she looked back up at him she was met with an expression she could only call amused exasperation. She sighed and decided to end this probable fight before it could begin, if only to preserve the remnants of her sanity after an already-stressful day. “I always wear slippers when I drive to work,” she admitted. “My work shoes are great when I’m actually on my feet, but I hate driving in them.”

“All right,” he allowed. “I can’t say I relate, but I suppose that makes more sense than anything else I was coming up with. Doesn’t explain why you’re staring at your phone like it’s your only lifeline instead of actually driving to work, though.”

At the reminder of exactly why she was stuck here and not at work, Aelin sighed and wordlessly gestured to her tire. He glanced down at it and then back at her, clearly confused, and began to laugh.

“Oh, what is it now?” she demanded, immediately on edge again.

He crouched beside the tire and braced his hands on his knees, inspecting it as he continued to chuckle. “You don’t know how to change a tire?”

Just as it had a few hours ago, Aelin felt heat flood her cheeks. “Give it a rest, would you? So what if I never learned, I didn’t exactly have anyone around to teach me.”

Aelin bit her lip to stop the words from coming out, though she had already revealed far too much. Even if it was true, and even though the theme of the day had been building some kind of camaraderie with her roommate, she firmly believed there was such a thing as oversharing and that had been it.

A small part of her brain noted that she felt more exposed now than she had been literally exposing her backside to him just that morning, but she carefully stifled that thought to be dealt with hopefully never. Instead, she blurted out, “And I’m not sure I have a spare anyway.”

Rowan gave her a skeptical glance. “Open your trunk.”

“What?” Aelin asked, stunned. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

Deciding to humor him, she did, and in less than five seconds he had opened a compartment and revealed exactly what he had been looking for, a spare tire as well as a few tools. “Oh.”

Rowan shook his head. “Most cars have the essentials in case this happens on the road. The replacement isn’t meant to be driven long-distance, it’ll only get you to the nearest repair shop. I’m assuming you don’t have time for that.”

Aelin nodded. “I’ve only got about an hour before I’m supposed to be at work.”

“All right. You have tomorrow off?”

Aelin checked the picture of the schedule she’d saved to her phone. “Yeah, tomorrow and Monday are my ‘weekend’,” she replied.

Rowan pulled the tools out of the compartment and straightened. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to put the replacement on now, because that tire’s flat enough that you’re risking damage to the rim if we let it sit and that gets expensive fast. I can drive you to work tonight, and tomorrow we can take it to someone to see if you can get away with patching the tire or if you need new ones.”

Aelin stared at him, surprised. “Wait, you’d drive me to work?”

“Would I say I’d do it if I wouldn’t?” he retorted.

Before today, she would’ve bristled at that comment and perhaps even snapped back at him. However, through their talks after his aunt had left she’d learned that he had an incredibly dry sense of humor bordering on outright sass. With that knowledge in mind, she bit back her immediate urge to fight back and instead simply said, “Thank you.”

Rowan’s head spun around to stare at her, and she shrugged, uncomfortable under the intense focus of his gaze. “What?” she asked. “You didn’t have to offer, but I appreciate that you did. Honestly, before you got here I was running down my list of coworkers, trying to decide who was most likely to pick up.”

“You may still want to see if one of them can bring you home,” he cautioned. “I’m not saying I won’t do it, but I’m not exactly used to staying up that late and I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep.”

Aelin laughed at the admission. “And here I thought you were the life of the party. Have you ever done something just because it was fun?”

“Says someone who is currently reaping the advantages of my lack of a social life,” he snorted. “I thought you were supposed to be grateful.”

“I can be grateful and still comment on your life choices.”

Rowan carefully set one of the tools next to the tire and got to work, pointedly ignoring her and leaving her with nothing to do but watch him.

Even before today she’d noticed in a distant kind of way that her roommate was unfairly attractive, for all that he didn’t seem to do himself any favors. That recognition was only affirmed as she watched the muscles of his shoulders and back while he worked to change her tire. He hadn’t even had the time to change out of his running clothes, and sweat lingered at the back of his neck, darkening the short strands of his hair.

She’d never bothered to ask if he’d naturally gone completely grey at a strangely young age or if he simply dyed his hair that color, but either way she could admit it suited him in a way she wasn’t sure would work on anyone else. Paired with piercing green eyes and angular features, what would have been a noteworthy feature on anyone else was a stunning combination on him.

It was really too bad that they barely tolerated each other. And now that they were roommates, she knew too much about him to be swayed by looks alone. All it took was one recollection of him reorganizing their living space and those thoughts retreated to the back of her mind where they belonged.

It was just in time, too, because she realized belatedly he was speaking to her. “—got lucky,” he was saying. “I’m no expert, but I think they should be able to just patch this and you won’t have to get new tires.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked, curious.

Wordlessly, he rotated her tire—which she noticed was now freed from her car—and pointed at a large nail driven right through the rubber.

“Oh.”

“Here, stuff this into your trunk while I get the spare on and then we’ll get you to work,” he said, rolling the tire in her direction. She rushed to comply, and by the time she had tucked it away as neatly as she could manage he had finished his part of the job as well. “All right, get what you need and we’ll go.”

“I already have what I need,” she replied.

He looked at her, gaze moving from her braided hair down to her slippered feet, and said, “Your work shoes?”

“At work,” she said.

“And you’re not bringing food when you’re working a full shift?”

“Rowan, I work in a bar. They have food there.”

Her statement granted her a withering look that promised a painful end to her admittedly-unhealthy usual diet. “Do you even have food in the house?”

“If you’re going to judge me, I’m not going to answer that,” she evaded.

“Fine. We don’t have time to fix that right now anyway,” he muttered. “Get in my car, and I’ll get you to work.”

They drove in silence the entire way to the bar, but it was somehow less uncomfortable than Aelin would’ve expected. Maybe there was something to be said for utterly humiliating yourself in front of your roommate, after all. She could only go up from here.

As they arrived, before she could slip out of his car she turned to face him. “Hey, thank you,” she said. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He waved off her thanks with a single gesture. “I know you have my number. Just text me if you need me to pick you up as well.”

As it turned out, Lysandra was able to get her back home after her shift and she texted Rowan about a half an hour before her shift ended, receiving no reply. But as she crept into the house, she noticed a sight that made her freeze and then smile. Rowan was passed out on their couch fully clothed, phone prominently placed on the coffee table as though he’d fallen asleep waiting for her message.

Not willing to risk waking him, she quietly crept up the stairs to her room, but the image lingered for quite some time as she prepared for sleep herself.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows

[the-iron-orchid]

Prologue: The Doorway 

(~1250 words, no particular warnings)

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Dreams are a doorway, my teacher says.

I have many dreams. I dream of the mundane - simple retreads of my daily life. I dream of the absurd, the surreal. I dream of vast white sands and achingly blue sky, of being a beast rather than a human. I vividly feel the sand under my paws, the great strength in my hind legs as they propel me into the air, the life draining from the small creatures I catch in my powerful jaws.

I dream of the Lazaret, a terrible place which holds a strange fascination for me. So many suffered and died there; I often wonder if it is this awful collective energy which draws me. Being what I am, I am sensitive to such things.

Haunting the Lazaret of my dreams is a woman, tall of stature and stately of bearing. Her face and form shift in my perception, but these other things remain the same. I can never quite recall our conversations... but they are lengthy, in the way of old friends.

She may be an ancestor. She may be a representation of my own higher self. She may be nothing but a lonesome spirit, one of countless victims of the terrible plague, bound to that place by her suffering. If my company eases her pain, then I am glad to provide it.

It has been years since I have seen anyone with the marks of the plague upon them - the extremities blotchy and veined, the whites of the eyes stained with scarlet. It ceased even more quickly than it came… though I do not remember when it came. My memory begins, or perhaps ends, three years ago.

Jinana Aditya is my name, but it means nothing to me. It connects me to no-one that I recall… no-one except Asra Al-Nazar, who is my teacher, and Phan Đạt Linh Heron, who is my best friend.

I’m told I was in a terrible accident, one that resulted in the loss of my memory and function. These two people have taught me almost everything that I know - from how to walk, talk, and care for myself, to the handful of spells that I have managed to master.

Heron has always been my best friend, since we were children. I do not recall this time, of course… but I trust him with my life. Along with Asra, he is the closest thing I have to family.

It is because of Heron that I journal so diligently, recording my dreams alongside my experiences, recipes, and thoughts. I have asked him about the woman I see in dreams, but he too is unsure if she is a spirit, or perhaps another dreamer. Even the living can become trapped in the realms of dream... and they can trap others, so I must be careful.

I have spent today’s waking hours as I spend most of them - minding the humble magic shop that is also my home, and practicing my spells. I am encouraged to use magic as readily as I use my hands, the way Heron and Asra do. Otherwise, the magical energy builds up inside of me like water behind a dam, and eventually finds other, less controlled ways to escape.

(I am told that this is how I came by the odd color of the hair on my head - it is entirely unlike the hair anywhere else on my body. I am also told that this is technically considered a curse... but I don’t mind. Children love my peacock-colored hair.)

Another thing I do is read the cards - the ones that anyone may purchase, and the ones that Asra made himself. In the hands of a magician (or a magician’s apprentice), the Arcana themselves may speak. Everyone wants to know what the future holds; our little shop has garnered something of a reputation.

It isn’t a glamorous life, or even a very exciting one. I keep mostly to the Center City District, and do not wander far afield on my own. In fact, I have not left the walls of the city within my memory.

But my life is comfortable enough. I want for little... except more frequent company. 

Maybe we should get a shop cat.

The shop is quiet this evening; I am alone, as I so often am. I sit in the worn, patchy armchair to one side, journaling as is my habit. I put the finishing touches on a sketch of a mud-dauber wasp which alighted upon my hand as I tended the rooftop plants this morning. She was beautiful, her carapace gleaming phantom blue over black, her waist like a thread and her eyes like jewels.

My sketch completed, I set my quill aside and rub at my tired eyes. I close them, just for a moment… just long enough to rest them. Then I will go and make myself some dinner.

In just a moment more…

...

I stand in a spectacular space, surrounded by towering marble walls. They are intricately carved, in places even gilded, set with stained glass windows that pour rainbow light over everything. Beneath these windows, three fountains spill endlessly into a pool below, crowded with floating lotus blossoms.

A meditative figure rests upon a pile of silken cushions before the lotus pool. The figure is feminine, but her face is obscured by the pure white light that emanates from her Ajna chakra, the third eye of the mind. Her long fingers are folded in a mudra of concentration. 

I know her immediately - the woman from my dreams. I have not seen her in some weeks, even months. But I have never seen her like this before, or in such a glorious space.

I can feel her keen awareness rake over me like the light. Beneath the obscuring radiance, her lips form a smile.

“There you are.”

I return to wakefulness with a start, just as the curtains to the back room part to reveal Asra.

“Oh! Jinana… did I startle you?” he asks, eyes wide.

“I was… just resting my eyes,” I tell him. “I must have dozed off. I’m about to make dinner, if you’re hungry.”

Asra smiles. “Then my timing is perfect. Look at this.” He comes over to the chair, proffering his gathering basket. He’s been out foraging in the forest again, it seems, and he’s brought home a bounty of mushrooms, potherbs, wild onions, berries, and even a few eggs.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” I ask, and his face falls a little.

“...Yes,” he admits. “There’s something I need to attend to. But I didn’t want to leave you with the larder bare.”

I nod, smiling despite the little sinking ache that blooms in my chest, as it does every time he leaves. “Well, how does a dinner of wild-mushroom pilau sound?”

“It sounds wonderful,” he says, looking at me in that odd way he sometimes does - smiling, but with a certain tension about his brows and a shadow over his violet eyes. Perhaps he is impatient to be away from me.

We ascend the steep little staircase, heading into the tiny kitchen to prepare our meal. Asra wakes the stove salamander - a quaint accoutrement of the shop - while I clean and chop the mushrooms and onions. As I work, I ponder my dreams. What does it mean, to have seen the mysterious woman again, and in such a setting?

I suppose that I may find out when sleep comes to me again.

[simpforfictionalboys]

Friend Zone

Request- @thollandx I saw you open you requests , can I have one with Peter Parker please? Where the reader is in love with Peter but thinking he is in love with MJ. Peter loves the reader but is to shy to telling her. He visting her as Spiderman every night. The Reader didn’t know that Peter is Spidey. She telling him how much she loves Peter and that she is heartbroken because she’s thinking that he loves MJ. Can you make this with angst and fluffy? The End can you make how you want ❤️ Thank you 😊

Yes oh my lord this is my first request and I love it! Please send me more my lovelies and I will get onto it- Character x reader!!

Word Count: 1.7k

______________________________________________________________

You wrung your hands looking up at the clock. You wanted to go to lunch but at the same time it was the hour that you dreaded the most. 

You were a relatively popular girl at Midtown High, you were friends with most of your classmates (emphasis on most) so you shouldn’t have an awkward time in the lunch room right? Not too accurate. 

When your closest friend and the person that you are in love with is in love with your best friend- so. Yes. You are having issues.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You turned your head to see Brad Davis walking up to you a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He gave you a sparkling smile before running a hand through his hair. He certainly wasn’t the same as he was a couple of months- years ago.

“Yeah, I get that. Its been a lot since you guys came back from the blip and things have certainly changed around here.”

The blip sure did change somethings.

The scrawny little boy who used to have nose bleeds all of the time seemed to become quite the player at your school. Not that you couldn’t see why.

You walked along with him to the cafeteria blindly smiling at him as you got closer, he was talking to you about something that you didn’t quite catch at first.

“So, yeah- I mean if you don’t want to that is okay but if you want to swing by and maybe catch a movie.” You gaze switched over as you caught the last bit of the conversation between Brad to you-

Really should have payed attention.

You scrambled to come up with something- to say something along the lines of- ‘I’m sorry I have work’ or ‘I have plans’ when it sort of dawned on you.

You needed to get over Peter- You weren’t going to get anywhere. He was in love with MJ. You were positive of that. And sitting and pining over someone who doesn’t like you back wasn’t going to turn out too well for you and for your heart.

You’ve been doing it for the past 3 years- well I guess 8 years.

But still. 8 years hung up over the same guy who doesn’t like you back- You put 2 and 2 together. You needed to get over him.

Brad was sweet and nice. Not to mention good looking but no matter what you needed to get over it.

“I’d love to.” You said a friendly smile on your face. Friendly. It was worth a shot anyway.

“Really? Um, great! Hope to see you tonight.” He gave you a soft brush on the shoulder as you left the cafeteria line with your food and back to where MJ, Ned and Peter were.

You slid in next to MJ as you saw her looking over to Peter with a smile in which he returned blush going onto his cheeks. This is why you are doing this.

“So, Brad Davis.” MJ said in your ear as she gave you an exasperated look with a grin. You rolled your eyes at her before starting to eat you pizza. You was aware of the boys listening into our conversation.

We started to launch into a conversation- you trying to avoid the topic of your romantic situation and her trying to get into it in which you stole her sketching pad.

It wasn’t her fault that Peter was in love with her, she was amazing.

“So, Peter...” Ned started as though trying to get him to start saying something but he didn’t seem to remember what he was trying to say and nudged the boy next to him.

“Yeah- Y/N MJ do you guys want to come over and watch movies tonight with me and Ned? I mean you guys don’t have to if you don’t want to but if you want to-” It seemed as though Ned nudged him again to get him to stop talking to you.

You contemplated it for a moment but the fact of the matter was you really didn’t want to watch Peter and MJ flirting while you sat in a corner covered in your own self pity. 

You were going on this date tonight.

“I can’t I have to babysit for my little cousin, but you guys should totally go.” You didn’t want to look to see the devastation that probably would have crossed Peter’s face so you looked away. 

“Oh that’s fine, MJ. Y/N?”

He probably was just using you as some sort of second choice and you didn’t want to handle that. So you just covered it up.

“I can’t. I’m busy tonight.”

“Why do you have a date.” Ned teased half heartily probably guessing that you have a date with your bed before a look crossed his face when he seemed to realize that he was right.

“I do actually.” A crack sounded from across from you coming from Peter who stood there looking like someone had killed his dog.

Damn, the whole MJ not coming really didn’t settle too well with him. What you didn’t see at first was the fork that was now in half sitting in his hand.

“Peter! Is that metal?” You exclaimed looking over at your friend who was just looking at you before he seemed to snap out of it and hid it under the table with a laugh.

“N-No! It was a plastic one- muscle spasms you know.” He gave you the dorkish grin that you fell for that alone made you want to cancel on Brad, but you couldn’t.

***

It was- nice? You didn’t really know but the fact was that you felt like it was more hanging out with a friend than anything else.

“Oh- my mom just texted, I got to go. I had a great time.” You made a show of grabbing your phone and looking at it as though you had gotten it. He felt something towards you that you didn’t really reciprocate. 

“Yeah, me too. Be safe.” He grinned towards me before leaning over to hug me as I slid over to the side.

“You’re a great friend. I’ll see you Monday.” Friend. You didn’t even mean for that to slip out but it did. Because it was the truth, you didn’t feel anything other than him being a friend.

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” He gave me a slight smile as though knowing what I meant by it as I slipped out of the door.

By the time that you got to your building you did as you did every other night up to your roof. By the time that you were up there the infamous Spider-man sat up there cross legged. 

He seemed to bolt up as soon as he saw you before walking over to where you were- he had been on your roof almost every single day at the same time as right now looking for you.

“Hey Y/N.” You turned to the Spider-man with a small smile not as big as you were used to though- well what you were used to whenever you were around Peter.

“Hey, Spider-man.” You had a couple of times questioning why the hell there was someone like Spider-man who came to talk to you every night but he was still there.

His presence there made you always feel- comfortable. You didn’t even know why but it was like a second sense.

“So what kept you so late tonight?” There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place but you shrugged it off. Looking back to him you gave him a weird look that you couldn’t place.

“I had a date. I am sure that Spider-man wouldn’t like to hear the long story of my hopeless love life so lets just leave it at that.”

Spider-man seemed interested in that as he seemed to- stutter out a response of some sort.

“N-No! I mean go on if you want. It can’t be that bad.” 

“Well- I am in love with my friend who is in love with my best friend, and I tried to go on a date to get over him but it didn’t work well so I have given up on love and I’m going to be a dog person for the rest of my life.”

The slits of his eyes seemed to open at the statement and you thought that it was him agreeing with the whole it is super bad thing but it wasn’t.

“Who- are you in love with?”

“His name is Peter-” Several things happened at once. Spider-man reached up and pulled his mask over his head to reveal man behind the mask.

“-Parker.” Peter Parker was Spider-man. As well as the person you just confessed your love for Peter too. You started to say something but you were cut off by Peter’s lips.

You barely got the chance to balance before you were tugged into Peter’s arms- the kiss surprised you at first but as soon as you relaxed you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were kissing Peter Parker. On the top of your building. While he was wearing a Spider-man suit. Shit.

He wasn’t just wearing it, he was Spider-man. That alone made you pull away even though you wished that you didn’t.

“Peter- You’re Spider-man? When did this- What-” You were cut off speechless. When was the last time you were speechless.

“Y/N L/N. For once in your life can you shut up and kiss me.” He tugged you over to him once again but this time you didn’t pull away.

You wrapped you arms around him even further so that you could get even closer to him if that was possible.

You felt him move around you as he walked you towards the end of the roof towards the door leaning your back against it as you continued to kiss him.

The noise that he made from the back of his throat was enough to make your toes curl as you pulled away. 

He slowly leaned down to meet you level before resting his forehead against yours looking over at you with love something you never really noticed from him before.

“I love you, too, Y/N L/N.” The sound of him saying that made you sigh as you buried your head into his chest before remembering that he was still wearing his suit.

“I think that I have to make it up to you now about the whole movie night thing. If Ned just so happens to not be in your apartment.” You said motioning to his suit in which he gave a wicked grin.

“He won’t be. The Little Mermaid?” Before you could agree you were thrown into his arms and sucured before he threw himself off of the building and down to his floor.

“You are so lucky that I love you.” You huffed to him as you glared at the whole no warning thing. A smile lit up his face.

“I am- so very lucky.” You grinned before he pulled you into another kiss.

Tag list- Message me to be on my permanent or a certain characters tag list!

[winzenni]

didn't mean to make you cry (lee donghyuck)

Summary: when your design project partner’s joking criticism unintentionally makes you cry, how will he fix it? after all, you’re his crush...

Genre: hurt/comfort?, fluff

Pairing: donghyuck x artist!reader, high school!au

Word count: 1.5k

When you were paired up with the outgoing, edgy, purple-haired boy in class for your design assignment, you thought your final grade was done for. The purple-haired class clown, Lee Donghyuck, who wears leather jackets and looks like he plays with fire in his free time, but actually has a kind heart and warm aura. 

You thought Donghyuck would ditch you in the very beginning, dumping the entire assignment onto you and opting to hit up the local night market with his friends instead, but he had surprised you. Throughout the month, Donghyuck had stayed on task in classes and been very attentive to your vision and goals for the project. Together, you were assigned to create a design layout that would display students’ artwork and be printed in the school newspaper.

Though your peers in class all opted for a traditional newspaper design, with serif fonts and boxy modules, you wanted to break out of the norm and create a futuristic vibe, with circles and vivid motifs, to emanate a clean aura in your work. When you were paired with Donghyuck, you feared he would shut down your creative vision, but instead, he had been extremely supportive and helpful in the project, even offering insight to improve the layout and refine the modern look of the pages.

For fun, you had put some close-up photos of your old sketches and drawings in the background. You thought Donghyuck would have called you self-centered for putting your own personal works on the page, but he had proven you wrong by complimenting the design afterwards. Together, your smooth black pen lines and colored pencil textures created a personal, diary-like feeling to the design, while the minimalistic modules and white space kept the clean modern vibes. 

His willingness to cooperate and kindness to you and your ideas had truly shocked you, and erased the bad boy/lazy rebel image you had thought of him. He seemed like someone you wanted to get closer with, maybe.

“Donghyuck and Y/N, time for your evaluation.” the teacher called you two up.

“Hm, this corner of the page is a little crowded. It’s hard on the eyes,” Ms. Kang says. 

“It’s because y/n drew the picture there,” says Donghyuck. “It’s ugly, right?” He says it in a joking manner, and you know he doesn’t mean it like that, but the words stir up some insecurities you’ve suppressed for a long time.

Ms. Kang laughs along with him. “Donghyuck, don’t be mean. Her drawing looks fine…”

--

You know he was joking when he had called your drawing ugly, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe he truly meant it. People were always like that to you.

In elementary school, your parents had loved your art. Your scribbly golden retrievers, your painted landscapes, they had praised each one and hung them up on the refrigerator, and you were so proud to have a talent that they were proud of. 

In eighth grade, your hyper realistic self-portrait earned you a ticket to New York to have your art displayed at a museum’s exhibit highlighting children’s artworks. You began to think this talent could take off and become a career, but your parents disagreed.

“Art doesn’t make money, y/n. Do you want to starve when you grow up?”

As you grew older, your art got better but your parents’ support decreased. Though you could draw a golden retriever 100 times better than before, your parents weren’t praising you.

“It’s ok, y/n. It looks kind of ugly.”

“That’s supposed to be you? It’s ugly-”

“Why did you draw me so ugly-”

Ugly was such a short word. But why did it hurt so much? Whenever you saw your parents’ faces, you just thought about your ugly, meaningless passion: art.

--

The bell rang. 

“Ah, I barely noticed the time. We’ll finish grading your design next class.” says Ms. Kang.

“Cool, thanks seonsaengnim,” Donghyuck responds. “Y/n, what did you think? She really liked the-”

You stand up, grabbing your bag and leaving for the cafeteria. You couldn’t hear Donghyuck’s words over your parents’ criticisms ringing in your head.

“Are you dumb? You’re NOT going to art school.” “No more art, y/n. It’s meaningless.” It had been a while since the word “ugly” had come up when talking about your art, your hobby, your talent, no -- your sole passion in life that gave you a purpose. You didn’t even notice your eyes watering up.

“Y/n, didn’t you hear me?” Donghyuck catches up beside you. “Ms. Kang said -- wait, are you crying?”

You’re taken aback, looking up to the face on your left. Concern flashes through his eyes as a sense of embarrassment pierces your chest. He thinks I cried because of a dumb joke he made, you think to yourself. He thinks I’m too sensitive and weak like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, taking a u-turn to seek refuge in the bathroom. 

At lunch, you plop your tray beside your friend Renjun, taking a seat.

“How was the project evaluation?” He asks. 

“Renjun, you’re gonna laugh when I say this. I cried for no reason in front of Donghyuck,” you reveal.

“Why? What happened?” He asks worriedly.

You explain the purple-haired kid in your class, the design project, the thoughts that had rushed through your mind after Donghyuck had jokingly called your art ugly. Renjun, who you had first met in art class and hoped to become an art student himself, was one of few people who truly understood your insecurities about your future in art. 

“He probably thinks I’m weird and too sensitive now,” you say.

“Maybe,” he says. Renjun was never one to lie, even if the truth hurt a little bit. “It’s okay though, you probably won’t see him ever again after this year.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, patting it comfortingly.

“You’re right,” you laugh, scooping up another spoonful of rice.

--

How can she be laughing so much after crying less than twenty minutes ago? Donghyuck asks himself from across the cafeteria. Did I do something wrong?

“Donghyuck, what’s on your mind?” pipes up Jeno. “What are you looking at?”

“Hm? Oh… Earlier in class, that girl over there cried after I said something but I’m not sure why.” Donghyuck answers.

Jeno raises his head to look over at the girl in question. “Oh! Y/n? She’s so nice though, how did you even make her cry?” “I don’t know! That’s what I want to know!” Donghyuck defends himself. “Who’s sitting next to her though? She was just crying last class, why is she laughing already?”

“Oh, that’s Renjun. Why don’t you just ask him? He seemed pretty chill in math class last year,” Jeno suggests. 

-- 

When Donghyuck sees Renjun turn into the boys’ bathroom before class, he follows.

“Renjun!” he calls out.

Renjun turns around to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice. 

“Why did y/n cry? Did I do something wrong?”

Tilting his head to process the sudden interrogation, Renjun notices Donghyuck’s bright purple hair and makes the connection.

“Oh, you’re Donghyuck,” he remarks.

“Please, Renjun, tell me if I did something wrong. I need to know.”

“Why do you care so much?” Renjun asks. “Don’t worry about it, she’s not mad at you.”

“No, please. Please tell me. I-” Donghyuck starts. How can he admit his crush on you to a stranger right now? He can’t miss his chance. “I-I like y/n. I need to know if I did something wrong. I want to fix it. Please, Renjun.” 

Donghyuck had loved your drawings. He had loved your designs too. And loved you too. He loved how concentrated you focused when designing the layout, how your fingers gracefully pushed hair behind your ears when it fell in your face. He loved how your passion and dedication shined through in everything you did, whether it was your voice in a presentation, or the speed and concentration of your fingers on a keyboard. You were his crush, but also his role model. He couldn’t live with himself if he had made you cry.

Renjun explained your situation, your art, your parents, your self-doubt to Donghyuck. “Shoot your shot, Donghyuck. I think maybe y/n likes you too,” he said before pushing the door open and leaving quickly to hide his growing smile.

Alone in the bathroom, Donghyuck breathes a sigh of relief.

--

The next day in class, Donghyuck slides his backpack on the desk beside you, instead of his usual seat in the back. 

You look up, unsure how to face him. Should you explain why you cried? Or pretend like it didn’t happen?

He slips a folded pink piece of paper onto your desk, nodding at you to open it. 

You unfold the paper to see a doodle of a girl and boy, painting the sky together under some clouds. Amongst the clouds read “Your art is amazing. And you are too.” in a neat script. On the bottom of the paper: “Wanna come with me to the night market on Saturday?”

You look up at Donghyuck, searching his eyes to see if this is some pitiful joke or attempt to amend. Instead, you just see a glazed, lovestruck gaze in his eyes.

“I promise I won’t make you cry this time,” he says.

[jawritter]

Little Details...

Request: Could I maybe request a Chubby!Reader x Dean story? She's super sweet and kind of laid back, just going along with the boys as a research partner, but she's also super artsy and loves to draw Dean while she researches. Maybe some sweet and soft smut, oh! And maybe he plays with her hair? :) Thanks, dear!! 🌻💛

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Chubby!Reader

Warnings: a hint of insecure reader, a hint of self-loathing Dean, Smut, unprotected sex, light language, Angst, I think that’s about it.

Word Count: 2836

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one! Also, the sketch featured in this pic does not belong to me and the complete credit goes to the actual owner! Whoever you are! You did amazing!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

The bunker was dark and cold as you sat alone in the library, only the light from the kitchen that you'd left on and the lamp that was sitting on the desk shining as you sat in your usual seat behind a pile of books. A sketch pad stretched out in front of you, and the books have long since been forgotten. Your attention waivered to the drawing you had started yesterday while Dean was sitting across from you in the library, a glass of whiskey in his hand, and his feet kicked up on the table. 

Drawing Dean has become one of your favorite past times. It was some sort of an obsession, you realized that, but it helped you cope with the fact that drawing the detail of his face would be the closest you ever get to actually touching him.

You'd been living with the Winchesters as a researcher for over a year, and from the moment Dean pulled up in Baby to pick you up from your brother Garth's house you'd been in love with him. Garth said the boys needed help researching, and suggested you as the best he'd ever known, so Dean came all the way there to pick you up himself. 

It wasn't something you could control, it just was, you just were. There was nothing that could change it, no matter how much you wanted to.

Dean didn't like girls like you. Dean liked girls that were platinum blondes, with a huge chest and perfectly flat stomach. Those kinds of girls that look like they walked right off the pages of his favorite porn magazine. 

You were none of those things.

Your stomach wasn't flat, you had a little extra weight on your hips, you had nice breast, but you were convinced that was just because you were heavy. You weren't obese, but you weren't a size zero either. 

You weren't a platinum blonde. They wouldn't have taken your picture and put you in any porn magazine. You had nothing that would hold the interest of the God that was Dean Winchester. 

He saw you as a best friend, or maybe a little sister, not someone he would fall in love with. 

You were laid back and shy, you didn't have the guts to even ask a guy out, much less let Dean know how you felt about him. Not that you'd take a chance anyway, and mess up the only kind of relationship you will ever have with the eldest Winchester, so you settled to drawing him. 

You liked drawing anyway. It was an escape from all the crazy, creepy, evil that surrounded the life of a hunter daily. 

"Morning Sweetheart," Dean said, dragging his feet as he entered the library, and you quickly hid your drawing so that he couldn't see it. 

"Morning Dean, you're up early," you tell him as he took his usual seat across from him.

"Yeah, one of those nights I guess, I just couldn't get comfortable." 

You found that hard to believe, he had that whole bed to himself with a memory foam mattress on it. What in the world could stop him from getting comfortable?

"Well, what do you have planned for today?" you ask him, getting up to go and start breakfast for the two of you. Dean stood and followed you into the bunker kitchen. Sitting on the island in the middle of the room as you took out a pack of bacon and started to lay it out in the pan.

"I actually wanted to see if you wanted to just hang out and watch movies or something, you know have a lazy day," Dean said with a shrug. "Sam left today to go to Ohio and help Elieen with a witch hunt, and that just leaves me and you with the whole bunker to ourselves.

You stood stock still for a moment before you could answer. Dean had never wanted to just hang out with you before because you had the whole bunker to yourselves. I mean the two of you would occasionally watch a movie with Sam, and he sometimes would sit and talk to you in the bunker, but Dean was usually a pretty private person. He liked to hang out in the garage, and work on baby, and not really socialize much. Even though he called you his best friend in the kitchen a few months ago, he was always pretty distant, but Dean was distant from everyone, so you didn't worry about it.

"Sounds great Dean," you finally got out as he grabbed another pan, and started mixing up pancake batter next to you. 

"Great! I'm thinking we will start with a classic, Bram Stoker's Dracula maybe? See where it goes from there,'' Dean said, sounding excited. You couldn't help how your chest swelled thinking about Dean actually wanting to hang out with you.

An hour later Dean and yourself had eaten breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. Dean was getting the movie going for the two of you, and you were sitting on the couch, making yourself comfortable. 

"Okay Sweetheart," Dean said, flopping down on the couch and throwing his arm around you, pulling you very close to his side. Your heart was pounding in your chest at the close proximity, but you just went with it. Dean was never like this, but you weren't going to question it, you were just going to enjoy it because you knew it might not ever happen again.

Many movies later, and several pizzas, Dean and yourself were watching the credits roll on Pet Sematary, and Dean was stretching next to you. He'd kept very close proximity to you all day, even letting you cuddle with him while you two watched TV together. It had honestly been the best day you had ever had, and you weren't excited that it was getting late. 

"Hey Y/N, can I ask you something?" Dean said, looking at you cautiously. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you were sure he could hear it.

"Sure, Dean." 

Reaching over the side of the couch Dean pulls out a little black binder. One you recognize immediately. It was the binder that you kept all your drawings of Dean in. Your heart literally stopped mid beat as he turned to look at you, opening it up, and revealing your work. 

You couldn't speak, you couldn't breathe...

"Sweetheart, These are really..." 

Not letting him finish his sentence you snatched the binder out of his hands and literally ran towards your room, slamming the door behind you and locking it as tears made their way down your check. Throwing the binder in your underwear drawer you fall into bed and pray for death because that was the only thing that was going to take away that kind of embarrassment. 

All you could do was cry, you couldn't even think straight. He'd sat there and watched TV with you  ALL DAY! Let you cuddle with him, laughed with you, ordered food for you. You had a great day with Dean, and the whole time he was sitting over there with your binder, waiting to ask you about it. Guess he was just trying to soften the blow before he approached you about it.

You had never been more humiliated in your life. 

You were so upset that you didn't hear Dean pick the lock on your bedroom door, and when you felt the bed dip next to you, you nearly jumped out of it.

"Y/N, please don't run from me." 

You froze where you sat, looking anywhere but Dean, you couldn't stand to see what you thought you said there. Judgment, mocking, just like all those boys in high school that found out you had a crush on them and started calling you fat, and other mean names. Dean not only looked like a jock, but he was probably no different. 

Putting his finger lightly under your chin Dean guided your face to him.

"Look at me, Princess," he said, his voice was softer than you thought it would be, not mocking at all. 

Making yourself look at him, meeting his piercing green eyes as he wiped the tears that had fallen off of your face with the pad of his thumb. 

There wasn't any judgment there, but there was so much emotion that you didn't understand. 

"Y/N, I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have sprung that on you that way. I found your binder laying on the bed when I came in here to grab the spare blanket, and I got curious and opened it. I shouldn't have invaded your privacy, and I wasn't going to make fun of you, or mock you, hell, I'm not even mad. I just want to know why me?"

That made your mind freeze up for a moment. "Why me?" He was really wanting to know why you wanted to draw him? Does he look in the mirror when he gets dressed in the morning?

You blinked at him, dumbfounded by the question.

"What do you mean why you?" you asked him, and he lowered his head for the first time like he was a little embarrassed himself. 

"Because I'm nothing, Sweetheart, I'm not even that great of a person. Why the hell would you want to draw someone like me?" 

You wanted more than anything to slap him at that moment. "Dean, do you look in the mirror when you get dressed in the morning? Your fucking hot!" 

Slapping your hand over your mouth you mentally slapped yourself for your little outburst. Looking at Dean like you would die right there if you could get away with it.

Dean snorted out a laugh that surprised you, raising his eyebrows a little. "So you think I'm hot?" 

"Oh God Dean,'' you said, covering your face with your blankets before he pulled them down and laid down next to you. 

"Sweetheart, don't get embarrassed. You're normally so laid back. Why are you so shy around me?" 

Taking a deep breath you decided it was now or never. He wasn't going to let it go. You wondered if he already knew and was just being manipulative, but you had never known Dean to be manipulative. 

"Because I like you, Dean, I mean I really, really like you! More than just a friend or a brother. I have feelings for you Dean. I don't expect you to feel the same way about someone like me, and I completely understand if I totally creeped you out by drawing you all time, I'll stop if you want me to, I completely understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore. I can call my brother to come and get me, move in with him, and his family.."

Before you could stand up all the way, and keep rambling Dean grabbed you, turned you around, and crashed his lips into yours in a bruising kiss to shut you up. It didn't last near as long as you wanted it to, but it didn't take long to make you melt into him. His taste filling you, his warm lips gliding over yours and your lips worked together with him like it was something that they'd always done.

When he pulled away you were both panting, and he leaned his forehead against yours, brushing your hair away from your face. 

"Sweetheart, stop. I don't want you to go anywhere. I have feelings for you too, I always have, just didn't figure you wanted someone as fucked up as I am."

Snaking his arms around your waist he started backing you up to the bed and laid you down softly on the mattress before crawling up your body and hovering over you as you backed up against the pillows. 

"I don't mind that you draw me. You don't creep me out, and I don't want you to change a damn thing about yourself. The only thing I want to know before I take this any further, because trust me I want to, is do you want this with me for real? Because I've wanted it a long damn time, and once I go there with you, your mine. There's no going back, I've weighed too long for you to lose you, sweet girl."

You couldn't speak because part of you couldn't believe what you were hearing, so you just nodded your head. 

That was all the permission he needed before his lips found yours again, kissing you softly. His tongue gliding over yours. His hands trailing over sides. Lifting up the hem of your shirt so that his hands can graze over the skin there. A moan leaving your lips as the feeling of his hands on your skin. 

Dean sat up and ripped his shirt over his head, and threw it to the floor. You sat up and did the same. Hand's trailing over the newly exposed skin of his chest as he laid you down on the mattress slowly. His lips trailing from your jawline to your pulse point, leaving little love bites and open mouth kisses as he went before slipping his hand behind your back and loosening your bra. Pulling it off of you slowly and throwing it across the room.

"You so beautiful Princess," he whispered as his finger trailed over the mounds of your breast, admiring each inch of you like he was trying to commit it to memory. Lowering his head, taking each nipple in his mouth, giving each of them the same amount of attention as he worshiped your body. 

Sliding his hands into the waistband of your pants he slid your underwear and your sweats down in one pull. Before ridding himself of his own sweats and boxers. Leaving both of you bare in front of each other. 

He was glorious, all muscle power. You were not, and you were completely bare before him. You automatically reached for the blanket. Feeling self-conscious for the first time tonight with him when he grabbed your arms stops you. 

"No, no sweetheart don't hide from me. You're beautiful, and I want to see you." 

Covering his body with your he leans down over you, grazing the shell of your ear with his teeth, sending a shiver through your body, landing a jolt of arousal straight in your core. 

"I want to taste you, but I don't think I can wait any longer to be inside of you."

Dean settled himself between your legs and started to rut his leaking erection against your soaked folds, nudging your clit with every slow movement of his hips. A gasp fell from your lips as with one smooth pull of his body against yours he'd lined himself up with you soaking entrance, pushing himself inside slowly, stretching you in the best way as he bottomed out and both of you groan at the connection of your bodies.

Never breaking eye contact he started rutting himself against your body. Not really pulling out all the way or at all. Slowly, deep, he moved inside of you. His head is buried in your neck, as moans and shallow breaths falling form both of you as he hit places deep inside of you no one had ever reached. Building you both higher and higher until you were both tumbling over the edge together as his seed coated your walls and your body jerked underneath him, pulling and milking him as he spilled himself into you.

When you both finally came down from your he pulled himself out slowly, not bothering about cleaning yourselves up. He just pulled you close to his chest, playing with your hair while you just enjoyed being close to each other. One hand on the curve of your hips, running his fingers lightly of the skin there. Relishing in your body in a way that you were ashamed of. He saw you as beautiful, and he wasn't ashamed to show it. He loved your curves that you tried so hard to hide, and he made you feel beautiful. No one had ever done that before. 

After a long time, Dean chuckled to himself, making you look up at him in confusion. "What Dean?"

"Nothing. Just wait until I tell Sam you've been painting me like one of those french girls." 

You reach up and slap him on his chest with a laugh. "I'll kick your ass, Winchester," you say, trying to sound threatening. 

He didn't respond to your threat, knowing well that you couldn't even slap him hard enough to hurt him. 

You just laid there looking at the ridiculous smile on his face. You loved how it made the lines around his eyes stick out. The way he always perches his tongue between his teeth, but only the tip. The way his eyes seem to sparkle and just for a moment, he looks ten years younger than he really is. 

Those are the things you love about him the most. The little details most people miss. 

"What?" he asked when he looked down and saw you staring at him, still playing with your hair.

"Just enjoying all the little details."

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