#i meant to send you some asks too but my brain was buffering too bad :(((

[mhaccunoval]

everyone is getting 5 and 10 but you also get 2. for donny and elly :)

HI HI HI!!!

❥ 2 — what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?:

SO glad you asked because i HAVE thought about it (i should think more but alas). i know for sure donny likes barenaked ladies and blue october, maybe some other similar bands too. ellie is, and i think this is one of the funniest things i've done, a secret mcr tumblr girlie. so like. for the second part of the question, donny's leaning towards like rock with some heart to it that connects to his own and ellie's, surprisingly, leaning towards emo and alternative stuff for funsies. as far as favorite songs, i know i'll be that girl by barenaked ladies and calling you by blue october are some donny favorites (i'll be that girl being the reason for his clover tattoo) and for ellie. i don't know about Songs but have thought about her loving three cheers for sweet revenge

❥ 5 — how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?:

donny is very much. well i don't know how to describe it without going into terms of JRR characters; like his wardrobe is very gary from a million little things or danny from pushing dead— t-shirts layered under open button-ups + jackets, jeans, sneakers or boots, chunky watch, etc etc. in which case it's more so practicality, of being layered for warmth and to have himself covered up (for security and as a barrier). ellie, on the other hand, wears a LOT of florals, as flowy shirts and frilly dresses, wears the occasional business casual and sometimes throws in some spark for formal events. but also will steal donny's t-shirts to where with pajama shorts soooo. mainly aesthetically driven but a couple of exceptions here and there

❥ 10 — if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?:

RIGHT SO. think i've mentioned before donny having a necklace from his grandmother that he occasionally wears and ellie has her mpther's earrings she's always wearing. and the other day mikey tiptapricot asked if i had any ideas about wedding band styles so. current consensus is. this emerald ring is my Plan B on an ellie ring since i can't find the one i was originally picturing:

and i really like the thought of a chunky (also emerald stoned) ring for donny:

OTHERWISE. i feel like donny's more of a silver guy and ellie a gold girl. i think emeralds are a suiting gem, at least for their wedding bands, but i feel like for other favorites, donny would like tiger's eye and blue sapphires, and ellie would like pink spinel and citrine. maybe even jasper and black opal as other shared favorites

[kristoffs-lullaby]

A Guide on How to Not Confess to Your Best Friend

(Hi!! This is late I’m so sorry ;; but here’s my part for the exchange! @ninjago-valentine-exchange) [ Plasma B | 2.9k words]  Kai was awful with feelings.  He might have played himself off as cool (or at least tried to) but when it really came down to it.. he was a mess. He could dish out flirty comments all he wanted but that didn’t mean that he knew what to do with them if the other party ever decided to retaliate. And that’s not something he figured about himself until Skylor. Maybe that’s why he’d liked Skylor so much. No he didn’t entirely enjoy the moments where his brain staggered and he looked like an absolute fool, but it made him want to try to keep up. If there was one thing he hated, it was being stunned into silence because that just meant he was losing. And Kai didn’t lose. 

While things didn’t really work out with Skylor relationship-wise, he still learned something about himself. And maybe their whole dynamic and the loss of it was what led to the chain of events that he still couldn’t quite believe even as he was living through it. 

Kai didn’t think much of it at first. That’s just how he and the other three Were. They teased each other. Poked fun at one another. Cracked jokes. And sometimes it would be at one another’s expense. Sometimes they’d take it too far and one of them would get pissed and the other wouldn’t understand Why until they had a much needed conversation about limits and boundaries. 

But that never came up when this particular brand of teasing and banter kicked off and maybe it should’ve been obvious way back then that he didn’t mind Jay crossing  this one specific boundary. But Kai was stupid and Kai was oblivious. 

It started as an off-handed comment about how maybe Jay had chosen the wrong sibling to date when Nya refused to side with him in a very heated debate about cake. Like the traitor she was, she took Cole’s side on the whole thing. Kai was at least glad to see that there was no bad blood between the three of them when Jay struck an, admittedly, low blow by bringing up how Nya was backstabbing him for Cole again just like in their former relationship.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to witness SOME sort of drama. So he sided with Jay. Which led to an uproar. Which led to Jay saying what he did. 

And it was a joke. Kai knew it was a joke. Nya and Cole knew it was a joke. And Jay had obviously meant it as a joke. There was that buffer though and he couldn’t understand why. 

He reasoned with himself that he was having trouble keeping up with all three yelling at each other. All the while he was stuck in the middle and that was why he didn’t say anything immediately and instead took a swig of his soda. But even those few seconds he bought himself apparently weren’t enough because he didn’t even have the time to register the words he planned to say before his mouth had made the decision for him. 

He was playing along apparently. 

“Obviously. I’m much better looking than Nya anyway. Don’t know what you ever saw in her.” Kai hung his head and shook it in disbelief. 

“HEY!” 

It’d been months now and that one moment had spurred on their little unspoken challenge. A competition of sorts. 

Really what they were doing was full on flirting with each other but they’d play it off as if it were a game between them to see who could fluster the other first. Until it wasn’t a game anymore. But neither of them was willing to admit that it wasn’t. And it grew to be a frustrating occurrence because everyone else knew what was up except those two idiots apparently. 

Kai was currently winning though and that’s all that mattered. Yup. All that mattered.

“Hey Romeo!”

Kai’s head snapped up at the nickname. (There was something to be said about the fact that they’d gotten used to using them but he wasn’t about to be the one to bring it up). He watched as Jay jogged up to him before the blue ninja leaned over to catch his breath as soon as he was at a closer distance. Kai wanted to laugh at the fact that the guy was a whole Ninja and still ran out of stamina a lot quicker than Dareth. It was kind of sad, actually, but he couldn’t help the fond eye roll it got out of him. 

“Hey Sunshine.” Kai supplied as he draped an arm over Jay’s shoulders lazily when the other boy finally stood his full height. “I’m guessin’ you have some big news. That or you’re dying to see me and I just took your breath away.” 

Jay snorted and shoved at his chest before ducking under Kai’s arm and side-stepping away from the touch. 

“No. And if you’re about to detail whatever daydreams you have about me it’s gonna have to wait-” 

“Shit. Is there danger?” Kai’s face dropped instantly as a million and one bad scenarios ran through his head. Geez being a ninja was hard.

“No, no, no.” It was sort of cute the way the blue ninja waved his hands around frantically. He was so animated when he spoke and it wasn’t something that was lost on Kai. If anything it was something he found endearing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. How could he? Jay made it incredibly hard to ignore him. That’s probably why most people he came across labeled him as ‘annoying’. And maybe Kai had used the word against him in the.. not so distant past. But it wasn’t exactly right. Jay just had that sort of presence that demanded attention and sometimes it was a bit overwhelming but.. it wasn’t exactly a bad thing either.

Jay tapped a finger against his chin and looked him up and down. ”Your fashion sense might be a danger to society.. but other than that?”

“You take that back. You’re just jealous I rock everything I wear.” Kai crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. The absolute nerve. This brat was asking for a beatdown during training later. 

“Not jealous. Buuut. I do appreciate the view you’re right.”

“Why you-”

“Here.” Jay interrupted and shoved something in his direction. 

It was wrapped haphazardly. It reminded Kai of something he’d whip together when he was like nine. Back when he hardly knew how to use scissors and the tape dispenser was one of the greatest enemies in his life. Ah the good old days. The longer he looked at it the more ridiculous it looked. It didn’t even look like it had been wrapped with the same wrapping paper all the way through. More like Jay had scraps of various different ones and decided to stick ‘em together. Which.. Actually suited him. This very much screamed JAY. But why was he giving this to him..?

“C’mon dude I know your favorite person in the world just gave you a kickass gift but  you don’t gotta stare at it like it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life when I’m standing right here.” Jay sounded nervous. It was subtle and he played it off well (too well. Since when was Jay good at hiding it?) but Kai could tell in the way his voice rose just a decibel above its usual tone. It was also in the tic. Jay had a habit of looping one of the drawstrings of his hoodie around his finger when he was anxious. 

“My bad. Hold on let me get a good look at you,” This was totally payback for earlier. “Yeah. How could I even question it. Nothing compares.” he determined with a wink to send it home. 

Jay scoffed and was bordering on the edge of giving up this round too if the light pink dusting his cheeks was anything to go by, but in the end it looked like he was going to stand his ground this time. That was fine. This little exchange wasn’t over and Kai had plenty of time to sweep up a tally for the score from right under him. 

Or so he thought. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. 

Which sounded a lot more dramatic than it really was but what the hell was he supposed to do with this? 

Kai had spent that night restless. A restless night wasn’t foreign to him in any way. From time to time the red ninja had trouble sleeping. If he spoke out about how occasionally he’d lie in bed and just mull over every little detail from the past week, one of the other ninja would make some smartass remark about how Kai only found time to actually use his head at the worst possible time. Or maybe they wouldn’t and they’d understand. But he wasn’t going to try his luck. He’d rather protect himself than be vulnerable in a way he knew would hurt if they didn’t take him seriously. 

But this time he wasn’t lying in bed thinking about all the morbid things that came with being a ninja. This time he was glaring daggers at the stupid red bracelet tied neatly around his wrist. Because what the hell? 

It was so nice  and sweet and yet.. Still the most sinister gift he’s ever received. Because while it left him with this feeling of hope and joy, he was also afraid that the same hope that was so innocently sitting on his wrist would burn him. He was the fire ninja and he was afraid of getting burned. How ironic was that?

Kai draped his arm over his eyes. 

..And the smug look on Jay’s face when Kai couldn’t fight back the rising heat in his cheeks. Ridiculous. 

It was fair when they stood on equal ground. When they met on a mutual battlefield. But now Kai’s gone and dug himself into a trench. No. He’d fallen into it. He liked Jay. Dammit. And he let him win. 

Kai kicked his legs in the air in frustration before sitting up. That’s it. If Jay thought he was going to get away with this he was sorely mistaken. It was on and he was going to go all out. Go big or go home right? Right. 

And a month later the plan was kicking into motion.

“Can you remind me why we have to dress up again?” Jay asked. 

“We’re going undercover, I already told you.”

“Oh okay.” 

Kai wasn’t sure if Jay actually believed him or not but he was going to take it. On the one hand that could’ve read as a sarcastic remark because no Kai wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed and didn’t think this plan all the way through BUT Jay was also the type to just take things as they were.. For a bit. At least until it finally settled in that he didn’t actually know what he was doing then he’d start questioning again. Which Kai was banking on it not being for a while. 

“Well are you ready?” Jay looked up at him expectantly. 

Kai would have loved to say ‘Yes’. He really would have. Except.. 

“I just realized I don’t know how to tie a tie,” his lips drew into a thin line. What he’d done certainly wasn’t right. He knew Jay wanted to laugh. He knew it. Kai didn’t even have to look up at the dumb amused smile on Jay’s stupid face to know that. But he did anyway. And sure enough there he was trying his hardest to hold one back. 

Kai rolled his eyes and looked down again, the embarrassment washing over him just a little too roughly. 

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Never really been invited to events and stuff growing up and well I mean who was gonna teach me anyway even if I had been?” his mouth snapped shut as soon as the words left his mouth. Sure he had a streak of not knowing when to hesitate but god damn since when had it gotten this bad? Probably a while ago. This was not the time to bring up his fucked up childhood and admittedly he wanted to move away as quickly as possible before he could get any sort of response dripped in pity. 

But in true Jay fashion, the comment was the last thing he was worried about. And in true Jay fashion.. he was also full of surprises. 

Before Kai could even apologize or change the subject, there were hands slowly guiding themselves around Kai’s neck. They were Jay’s, that much he could process before his brain started buffering. He couldn’t say anything or even react to the extent that he was internally. Which was absolute chaos. 

Kai’s eyes flickered to the red fabric of the tie and lingered there for a second as he watched it being carefully tied in a way he knew would take him a while to master. His eyes wandered to the soft hands at work and he briefly wondered how they weren’t rough and scarred considering all the tinkering Jay did on top of ninja work. And then finally his eyes landed on Jay’s face and the way it was too adorably scrunched in concentration with his tongue sticking out and all. 

It took him far too long to realize when Jay was finished and he begrudgingly added another point to Jay’s side of the scoreboard in his head. 

Kai had to stop letting him stun him into silence. 

..Some other day. 

Because now they were staring at each other with Jay’s hands frozen in place on Kai’s chest and suddenly Jay was leaning in too close and- It was a kiss. It was a little messy and not at all how Kai imagined this going if it ever happened at all. But it was a kiss. And it was still perfect. 

Kai had wondered before if he’d feel a spark of electricity or if Jay would be able to feel the hot fire that burned Kai’s body without mercy on his lips. Now he had the answer. Or at least half of one. But suddenly it wasn’t important anymore. Suddenly it couldn’t even come close to it being his first thought when he could taste the sweetness of Jay’s favorite banana yogurt on his tongue. Or when he tried to imagine literally anything softer than this moment but only came up short on that end as well. Or when his hand cupped the other ninja’s freckled cheek and it fit there like it had always meant to be there. 

They pulled away after a few beats and Kai’s eyes snapped open and all too suddenly he was pointing an accusatory finger at Jay.

“You ruined it!”

“..Huh?” Poor Jay looked so lost and a little dazed. 

“Your ruined it!” Kair repeated as if that helped any. “I was supposed to trick you into this whole “mission” thing,” he threw up air quotes “but really I was GOING take you to this very nice dinner that the whole team helped out with and surprise you!” 

“And.. why can’t we still do that?” Jay looked at him like he was crazy and like he didn’t understand a damn word Kai was saying. Which.. fair.

“Because the whole point was to eventually tell you how I feel tonight and you were supposed to be so shocked by it and I’d get to see the look on your face and revel in it and finally get my revenge!”

“Huh..? Revenge for what?”

“THE BRACELET!” Kai held up his arm and pointed at his wrist where, sure enough, the red bracelet was still clinging to. 

It took Jay a second or two but soon enough the realization was starting to dawn on him. And he laughed. The bastard laughed while Kai was fuming and beat red from the whole thing. 

“But you beat me again,” Kai dragged a hand down his face and clasped his hand over his mouth trying to hide his blush as much as possible. “You got me. You beat me. I’m the most flustered and I-” he choked trying to form a coherent thought. Feelings were hard, how did he ever think he’d be able to push out an actual confession that night? 

“You were one step ahead and I look like the fool again for letting this affect me so much.” In true Kai fashion he didn’t understand immediately that Jay having kissed him first meant something very very important. He wasn’t smart and he never claimed to be in his defense.

“Kai.”

“WHAT?” 

Jay looked like he was considering something before eventually huffing a breath of air through his nose and shaking his head in disbelief.

“You know I gave that to you on Valentine’s Day right?”

“What?”

Jay pointed to the bracelet.

“Valentine’s Day. I was goooing to ask you out but. You kinda just stormed off like the whole thing pissed you off so.” 

Oh.. OH. Kai was an idiot. He didn’t know how many times he’d have to repeat to himself that he was just flat out stupid until his braincells got the memo and actually did their job.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you agree to never talk about this again.”

“Throw in a kiss and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

“Deal.”

“Now how about that Dinner?”

Jay would later make fun of Kai for perfectly timing his whole scheme to fall on White Day. To which Kai would slide him another twenty to have the blue ninja pretend like he thought Kai had done it on purpose.

 Next year he would get him back on purpose. 

[teruthecreator]

Hey... let’s play in the chaos Fitz space... I’m so curious how magic lessons with Festo would go now Fitz is aware of Chaos in relation to his magic...

anon idk what u were expecting when u sent this, but im sure it wasn’t a 1.7k drabble of fitzroy and festo having a lil chit-chat. that being said, though, this was incredibly fun to do so thanks for the suggestion!!! 

_______________________________________________________________

“I don’t want magic lessons anymore,” 

The question makes the fairy halt in their fluttering, staring at their pupil with a curious stare. Fitzroy hasn’t been the same since the centaur assignment, they knew that already. Word has made its way through the faculty about the barbarian’s outburst on the field; hushed whispers of concern that never seem to make it to either headmaster’s ears. Althea Song even came in to discuss with Festo about the future of Fitzroy’s lessons; what might be the safest approach to controlling his wild magic. 

Festo is well aware, though, that “control” and “wild magic” tend to not mesh well. 

This is the first time they’ve managed to get Fitzroy to come to a lesson since his return over a week ago. Usually they meet three to four times a week, practicing simple spells and focusing on how to channel the energy for larger ones. He used to be adamant on his distaste for magic, but after a while he began to warm up to the idea of understanding the arcane abilities he was granted. Snippers seemed to help with that warming, becoming less of a familiar and more of an emotional support crab when Fitzroy’s feelings would go haywire and seep into his magic. But, after the centaur assignment, they were advised to postpone a few of their lessons to give Fitzroy the space to recoup after being cursed (and whatever triggered his outburst). 

After that grace period, though, Fitzroy just became a no-show. No matter how many cheerfully threatening letters Festo would send, Fitzroy never came to a lesson. 

That is, until today, when they came into their class to find Fitzroy already seated in his usual spot; twiddling his thumbs anxiously as he looked down to the floor. Festo was hoping this meant Fitzroy was finally ready to get to work, but...it would seem that’s not the case. 

“...Is this why you’ve been hiding from Festo?” The fairy asks, seating themselves atop a stack of books so they can face the half-elf properly. Fitzroy refuses to meet their gaze, nervously scratching his neck as he nods. “Ah...I see…You do not believe in Festo’s teachings.” Fitzroy perks up at that, turning to them and vehemently shaking his head. 

“I-It’s not that, Festo, really! It’s just…” Fitzroy trails off, looking frustrated and caught between words. “I just...When I came to you first, Festo, it was because I didn’t know why I had been given my magics and, therefore, was unable to control the outbursts. O-Or, that’s why I felt these lessons were good--I know they’re required, given my schooling track, but--” 

“--Festo gets your point.” Festo finishes, not wanting Fitzroy to get lost in the semantics before getting out what needs to be said. He nods his head bashfully and continues. 

“Right, yes. B-But now that I...I feel like now--or, I know now why I have magic. When...When I got cursed? I-I, uh...I met someone…” 

“You met Chaos, yes?” Festo asks, simply. Fitzroy buffers for a moment, mouth sputtering as he attempts to grapple with the knowledge, and Festo snickers. “Fitzroy, did you think Festo did not understand where your powers came from upon first meeting you?” Fitzroy’s cheeks are tinged red as he opens and closes his mouth to try and retort. “Festo knew your magic was wild from before Festo even saw you! There are not many schools of magic that manifest in catfish transformation.” 

“I...suppose so. B-But Festo, if you knew where my magic came from this whole time, why did you never tell me anything?” 

“Because you never asked!” Festo answers cheerfully. Their response makes Fitzroy’s shoulders sag as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Also, it would not have been wise of Festo to give you such an answer when you were first learning your magic. Knowledge is not always key to understanding.” 

“I’d say it is!” Fitzroy bites back, his hand dropping from his face. “These powers were imparted on me to do evil, Festo! A deity has been watching over my every move, cheering me on whenever I goofed up severely and got people hurt!” The air begins to crackle with static electricity as Fitzroy gets riled up, anxiously running both hands through his hair and lodging them there. 

“I ripped a man’s hand off, Festo! That’s fucked!! I struck fear into innocent bystanders! A-And the worst part of it is th-that...I didn’t feel bad for doing it! The hand part, at least--I felt awful once I noticed how everyone was...was looking at me like some sort of monster. It’s terrible! I can’t sleep because of it, I don’t have an appetite anymore because anything I look at just becomes a hand or a shitty magic apple, a-and I can’t...I won’t do magic anymore.” He looks to Festo pleadingly, hoping they see his anguish and understand. “I-I can’t even summon Snippers anymore because I’m paranoid about him being a direct line for Chaos to watch me mess up! I-I don’t--I don’t want my magic anymore, Festo.”  

Festo sits there, watching as Fitzroy huffs and puffs on the verge of a meltdown. Then, after Fitzroy seems to have regained a little bit of his compuse, they get up and fly over to him, grabbing his right hand with both of theirs and flipping it over so it’s palm-side up. 

“Make a flame for Festo,” they command, not even bothering to look up and see the utter confusion and hurt on their student’s face. “Just do it, it will be fine. Have faith in Festo.” Fitzroy sighs, deep and long, before shutting his eyes and concentrating. In a few short moments, a small blue flame appears in his hand. Festo makes an affirmative noise as they study the flame. “How did that feel for you to do?” 

“Um...Fine? I guess?” Fitzroy replies, sounding unsure. 

“It did not hurt?” 

“No…” 

“Did not feel forced out of you?” 

“No.” 

“You feel confident that it was by your will that this flame came to your hand?” 

“Y-Yes, Festo, what does that--” 

“Then you are fine!” Festo states matter-of-factly. They push Fitzroy’s palm closed, thus extinguishing the flame. “You should not feel worried about Chaos’s influence!” They look up in time to see Fitzroy’s eyebrows furrowing. “You said yourself that the magic felt natural to you--it was not forced out of your hand or influenced by a force that was not your own brain, yes?” 

“R-Right…” Fitzroy responds. Festo flies up to his face and pokes their forehead with maybe a bit too much force than necessary. “Ow! What the heck, Festo!?” 

“Your magic may have been bestowed upon you by a being of influence, but it is you who controls how that manifests.” Festo explains, suddenly sounding wiser than normal. “Chaos can only influence your magic if you let them; other than that, they cannot control how you choose to use the gift they gave you. From Festo’s experience, they actually hate doing that, so you should not worry about being ‘controlled’!” Fitzroy’s eyes widen and he guffaws for a moment. 

“W-Wait, Festo, you’ve had experiences with Chaos?” Festo twirls around in a circle and giggles mischievously. 

“Not in that way, silly! Fairies are creatures of unpredictability; Chaos is one of our patron deities! Festo has had quite a few communes with them in Festo’s lifetime!” Fitzroy’s face scrunches up in disgust at the implication of their first sentence, making Festo laugh again. “You were the one who said ‘experiences’, not Festo!” 

“Right, but I was not implying you had sexual experiences with a deity, Festo. I really don’t want to be thinking about...really anything like that ever, thank you very much.” 

“You brought up sexual! Not Festo!” 

“Ahhh! I am covering my ears until this conversation ends!” Fitzroy screams as he slaps his hands over his ears. Festo rolls their eyes and kicks Fitzroy in the nose. “OW! Are you even allowed to hit a student?!”

“Festo has tenure, remember?” Festo chides, letting out a snarky “teehee” before flying a little further back so Fitzroy can look at them properly. “Now, do you still want to stop your lessons? Festo won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Fitzroy stares for a long moment, brows furrowing once more as he thinks. He doesn’t think for too long before squaring his shoulders and sitting a little more confidently in his chair. 

“Y’know what, Festo? I think...I think I’m going to keep at this magic thing! Show that Chaos who’s boss!” Fitzroy announces, his usual bravado back. Festo claps their hands as a shower of sparkles rains around them. 

“Hooray! Festo is proud of you for conquering your fears!” Festo cheers, making Fitzroy flush a little with the praise. “Now, to make up for your missed lessons, Festo wants you to come here every day for the next two weeks after your classes! This is non-negotiable!” At this, Fitzroy deflates, just as Festo expected. 

“Alright, I suppose I...deserve that for ghosting you for so long…” Fitzroy groans. 

“Correct!” Festo chirps, causing Fitzroy to roll his eyes. “Now, to pick up where we left off, show Festo how you’re doing with Mage Hand…” 

---

It’s later that night, when the school has settled and all the students have gone to bed, that Festo returns to their office. They pull a set of small candles from one of the drawers in their desk and lay them out in a pattern on the desk’s surface. With a flick of their wrists, the candles are lit in an iridescent flame, and they close their eyes to pray. 

Coming to, they find themselves in a familiar woodland clearing, looking unimpressed at the figure seated across from them. The figure, on the other hand, looks positively delighted to see them. 

“Festo does not want you meddling with Fitzroy anymore,” Festo says, their voice uncharacteristically serious. Chaos smiles and shakes their head. 

You, of all the beings in my court, should know I cannot do that. They reply. I have a special mission in mind for him, and I do intend on seeing it through to the end~

Then, the wind blows, and Festo wakes up back in their office in a circle of smoking candles. With a sigh, they put the extinguished candles away and leave. 

Futile as it seems, Festo is determined to give Fitzroy control over his powers, Chaos be damned. 

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Hey, y’all! Finally, here’s chapter 4! Gosh, this has taken me so long! I’m so so so sorry. In other news, I will be going on a hiatus so I can build up some buffer chapters to prevent this from happening again. I’ll post updates on when I’ll be back, but I’m currently thinking it will be sometime around New Year’s or early January. Again, thank you all for reading! It means a lot to me!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Remus and Janus mentions; mentions of homophobia and bullying; references of name-calling; swearing. (If there’s anything else, let me know!)

Word Count: 2,660

okay, here’s chapter 4! (Oh, and the bold words/sentences are text messages by the way.)

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

CHAPTER FOUR

Roman shuts the door to his car and walks inside the house. 

“I’m home!” he cries out. Feet thud on the stairs from the basement as Roman hangs his jacket on the hooks by the door. 

“Roman!” a manically shrill voice screams. Sliding across the hardwood floors around the corner comes Remus, Roman’s twin brother. Remus was a…special case. For reasons unknown, he was avidly interested in all things dark or cruel. A horrendously dirty mind and not a drop of innocence accompanied by a twisted love of morbid stories and people made Remus slightly demented, and Remus himself would be the first one to admit it. It was no wonder their parents gave up on him entirely. 

The only person who could keep Remus remotely in line was his boyfriend, Janus. Granted, Janus wasn’t the best example of a model kid, but he kept Remus from being too crazy. Roman liked Janus a decent amount and admired him for being able to put up with Remus at all, but there was something slightly off about him. The two only interacted when they needed too, and Roman was fine with that. 

“Hey, Remus,” Roman greets. “How are ya?” He feels the need to talk to his brother, show him support, since Remus doesn’t get any from their parents. Although being ignored doesn’t seem to bother Remus much, Roman tries to make an effort. 

“Fantastically fantastic!” He twirls in a circle, the tattered ends of his black trench coat flying out behind him. Roman chuckles at his brother’s antics. If only I were that free, he thinks. Before his smile can fade, Roman pastes it back on.

Before either boy can say anything else, Janus walks up the stairs and, without a single questioning glance, takes Remus by the arm. 

He must think Roman’s strained smile is due to annoyance because he says, “C’mon, Remus. Let’s go back downstairs and stop bothering your poor brother.” Remus giggles and follows Janus back downstairs, leaving Roman alone. The door shuts and the house goes quiet. 

Sighing and finally dropping the fake smile, Roman trudges to his room. He doesn’t mind that Remus gets the entire basement to himself. If they shared so much as a floor of the house, they would probably never stop arguing. Sure, they loved each other, Remus in his own backward way, but that didn’t mean they got along perfectly. 

Flopping down on his bed, Roman opens his phone to see a text from Patton. 

Sooooo are you happy you came? it reads.

Okay, okay, fine, yes, I’m glad I came, Roman responds. He bites his lip in nervousness before saying, Do you, by chance, have Virgil’s number? I would like to thank him again for helping me.

Patton’s reply is teasing, cheeky, just like a nosy father’s: Are you sure that’s the only reason you want it?

Roman chuckles before rolling his eyes at Patton's antics. Ignoring the question entirely, Roman asks, Do you have it or not?

Sadly, no, I do not. I’m afraid I cannot help your romantic pursuits this time.

Sending Patton the crying-face emoji, Roman rolls over to his back and stares at the ceiling. Maybe Virgil will talk to me tomorrow. It’s a foolish hope, and he knows that. Virgil doesn’t like Roman, and one day of studying together won’t change that. 

It’s smart to keep my feelings to myself. He hates me, and I can’t change that. It’s better to admire from afar. That’s the reason for his hesitation, or at least what Roman has convinced himself to believe. Although he’d never admit it, here’s something much deeper. Something he doesn't want to talk about. A fear he’s kept well hidden under his fake, perfect smiles that everyone buys into and the shameless flirting with every attractive person he sees and his bold, fearless stage presence year after year.

A buzz from the phone in his hand jars him out of his stupor. It’s a text from Patton.

I do have Logan’s, if you want to ask him. The text that follows contains a phone number. He hurriedly responds with a ‘thanks’ and copies the number. After making a new contact for Logan, he opens Messages again. The text should only take a few seconds to send, but Roman types his question in a million different ways, varying from borderline desperate to overly professional. Finally, he decides on the most simple one of all.

Hey, it’s Roman. Do you have Virgil’s number by chance? No explanation, no obvious signs of his crush. Straight and to the point. Even though Roman knows it’s the best way to phrase it, he still can’t make himself press send.

What if Logan figures it out? He’s the smartest kid in school, after all. What if he does have it and I text Virgil and he blocks me? What if Logan tells Virgil and they make fun of me? What if it’s a wrong number and the random person makes fun of me for my crush? 

“Dammit, Roman, get yourself together,” he mumbles, leaning his head back.

Fed up with his overthinking, Roman hovers his finger above the send button, closes his eyes, and presses down on the screen. Opening his eyes a sliver to make sure it sent, he shuts his phone off and throws it in the corner on a pile of clothes. He knows that if he keeps it next to him, he’ll obsessively check it every five seconds to see if there’s a reply. There’s homework he needs to do, for fuck’s sake.

Pulling his laptop out of his bag and opening his presentation for history, he gets to work. After a while, he forgets completely about the text. Googling the answers and finding pictures and reliable sites to use fills his thoughts, for once leaving no room for Virgil. At 11:30, once he’s done, assignment turned in with 29 minutes to spare, he grabs his phone and turns it on. 

There’s a text from Logan. 

Yes, I do have Virgil’s contact information. A string of numbers follow. His phone number. Roman’s heart flutters at the thought of being able to text Virgil.

Thanks, Roman responds. After making the second new contact of the night, making Virgil’s name just the heart-eyes emoji, he starts the agonizing process of figuring out what to say. 

“Should I just say ‘hi?’” Roman mumbles to himself, biting at his lip. “No, no, no. Then he won’t know who it is and he won’t respond. I could say ‘hi’ and who I am and then ask how he’s doing.” He nods and begins to type it in before deleting it and saying, “No! He’ll think I’m being weird! Roman, remember: he hates you. You can’t screw this up!” He groans in frustration and drops his head to his hands. “Wait, my excuse to Patton was that I wanted to say thanks again! I’ll just use that!” He types in, Hey! This is Roman. Thanks again for helping me with math today. 

“Okay, that looks good. Now, Roman, you just have to press send. It’s not that hard. Just do it.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Do I really want to do this? It’s just setting myself up for rejection. Yet when he pictures Virgil in his mind, purple hair falling across his face, freckles dotting his cheeks, he knows that it’s worth the risk. Taking one last deep breath, he opens his eyes.  

“Oh, shit!” he yells, throwing his phone across the room. Somehow, he’d accidentally sent the message while his eyes were closed. Curse my shaky hands. He meant to send it anyway, but still. Was not expecting it to happen so abruptly. Hands fly up to cover his mouth as he stares at the wall in shock. Roman’s mom comes in, looking concerned.

“Is everything alright, honey?” she asks, jarring Roman out of his distress. He blinks, shakes his head, and smiles crookedly. Quick, Roman, come up with an excuse! 

“Uh, I accidentally sent a text to the wrong person,” he half-lies. Please buy it. Please. Luckily, his mom chuckles.

“Okay, sweetie. Get to bed! Don’t want you to do bad in class and play, now do we?” She smiles warmly and shuts the door behind her as she leaves. 

Face falling, Roman murmurs, “Yup. Can’t have Golden Boy failing anything. What a tragedy that would be, for me to be less than perfect.” He laughs dryly and stands up to get ready for bed. He eyes his phone as he passes it on his way to his dresser, but resists the overwhelming urge to check it. Virgil’s probably asleep at this time, anyway. 

But Roman still can’t get him off his mind. 

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

Roman wakes up to the blaring of his alarm. It’s too early for this, he thinks, rolling over and smashing the snooze button. He’s just drifted back off to sleep when the alarm turns back on. Knowing he’ll be late if he snoozes it again, he shoves himself out of bed. 

After his shower, he picks up his phone, checking his messages. Scrolling past the notifications the play director sent out about practice, he looks for anything of interest. He’s already passed the message when his brain processes the sender.

He wasn’t hallucinating; there is a text from Virgil. Roman’s face breaks out in a smile and he sits down on the edge of his bed before falling backwards.

it was no problem, Virgil had texted last night. Another text comes in as Roman is reading the one from before.

hey if you wanted to you could come to the cafe again next week. The invitation brings a lightness to his heart. Maybe he doesn't really hate me, he thinks, goofily smiling at the ceiling.  Although the idea is uplifting, he tries to shove it down, but the hopeless romantic inside of him won’t listen. Or at least not as much as I thought he did, he compromises. p.s. logan says it’s okay too. i expected him too since he has a big fat crush on patton and you would most likely bring patton with you or patton would bring you

Roman’s jaw drops at the news. Did not see that coming. It only takes a few seconds for Virgil to say, oh shit i probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that. He’s responding when another text pops up.

i never said anything okay? 

Roman chuckles and types back, Got it, Mr... Ah dammit I can’t think of a funny nickname for you bc I’m so tired. You got anything? 

There’s an awkward moment of nothing when Virgil doesn’t reply. Roman knows that Virgil’s read it; the little words underneath the message say so. Did I say something wrong? Oh, no, he probably thinks I wanted a nickname to make fun of him! He facepalms at his stupidness. Wanting to make things right, Roman frantically tried to come up with what to say, but nothing sounds right. Before he can say anything, Virgil finally replies. 

idk i’m not a big fan of nicknames 

Remembering all those days when Roman used nicknames for the wrong reason, he winces. I was such a dumbass in middle school. 

Oh right. Feeling like he has to say something more, Roman gathers all his courage. 

Look I’m sorry about how shitty I was to you in middle school. It’s no excuse but I did it cause I was going through some stuff at home. Course that doesn’t make it right but I figured you’d like to know where I was coming from, he explains. Heart racing, he wonders what Virgil will say. He’s never admitted the reason behind his terrible behavior in middle school to anyone but Patton. Trouble had no place in his life. Everyone expected perfection, so that’s what he had to show. 

Lost in his thoughts, Roman didn’t notice Virgil’s reply at first. 

oh was all it said. A moment later, another text appeared. are things better? Roman wants to say no, tell him about the pressure, the expectations, the disappointment. There’s something about Virgil that feels trustworthy to Roman. He wants to tell him everything, but he knows he can’t. Because of those expectations. He’s Roman Princeford, popular, theatre prodigy, the king-of-the-school. 

So instead, Roman answers with a half-truth, like always. Yeah I guess so. My dad’s no longer a homophobic piece of shit and has mostly come to terms with the fact I’m gay

That problem was the only one people knew about. That problem was resolved. Besides, Roman liked having it out in the open. This way, he got younger kids, freshmen, sophomores, even some juniors or sometimes middle schoolers coming up to him, telling him that they looked up to him. Telling him that it was so cool that he came out. No one could relate to a perfect person. That story was Roman’s flaw, the chip in his armor that showed everyone that he could have problems too. 

ah that must’ve sucked 

Shoving his mind out of places he would rather not go, Roman texts back, Yeah kinda 

There’s a few minutes of silence. Not wanting the conversation to end, Roman asks, How were people’s reactions to your coming out? When Virgil had come out, it wasn’t the talk of the school like when Roman did. In fact, he didn’t even know about it until a week after when Patton told him. 

well my mom was completely accepting and was the first one i told, actually. my parents are divorced so i still haven’t told my dad. he’s uber religious so idk how that’s going to go down. my extended family on my mom’s side all know and there are a few cousins on my dad’s side that i’ve sworn to secrecy. Roman had met some religious fanatics who insisted on telling him all the reasons he was going to Hell. Those conversations were never fun. He winces on behalf of Virgil and how that conversation with his dad might go down.

God, being gay is fabulous and all, but sometimes it really is annoying, Roman muses. He sighs; at that moment he was so done with all the problems he and others had to face on a daily basis for simply existing.

i guess so, Virgil responds. Roman can almost feel the thick indifference through the phone screen. Being completely dead to the world was something Roman would never understand. Just watching things happen seems so impossible to him. He’s always had a great amount of passion, sometimes to the point where he would do anything to stand up for what he believed in.

But he’d also learned when and how to shut up, a skill that had taken a long time to master. This is one of those times. As much as Roman would like to convince Virgil that he couldn’t just stand by and accept the homophobia, he didn’t think that would make Virgil like him any more.

Needing to say it once more before the conversation ends, Roman says, I am really sorry for middle school. It wasn’t until late eighth grade that Roman realized how much of an impact his words could have on someone. A day doesn’t go by where he doesn’t regret it. If only I could take all those years back, he wishes. This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that.

yeah, yeah, i get it, princey. The annoyance the text conveys wasn’t angry, like Roman would’ve assumed. It feels almost friendly, which makes Roman very hopeful. Maybe Virgil could grow to like Roman after all. Maybe his foolish dreams and feelings aren’t entirely foolish. 

you’re forgiven

Yes, maybe the path Roman thought his crush would lead him on isn’t as full of pain and heartbreak as he had previously believed. It’s possible that, maybe, if Roman is lucky, it could result in something quite wonderful.

[bubblebuckys]

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

chapter warnings: none, i think, but don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything i should add

word count: 1.6k

a/n: just letting you know, this is a written chapter, and it's unedited. taglist is opening. reblogs make me happy

series masterlist —— main masterlist

The line rings a couple more times, and you’re sure James isn’t going to answer, but just as you prepare to press the little red button before you can get sent to voicemail, the line connects and a gravelly voice rings in your ear.

“Sweetheart?”

Oh wow, his voice.

Your breath stalls. His voice. Oh, wow. James hadn’t been at all enthusiastic when you asked if he would ever send you a picture of himself. You let it go immediately because you knew how being unsure of your looks felt. It had taken a while to be comfortable taking a selfie, and then another while to post any. You also knew how it felt when people tried to convince you you were pretty. You knew you were pretty. But other people online, strangers especially, could be assholes.

But over the months, you had left subtle hints that James had nothing to worry about. You liked him because he was funny, smart, compassionate, and sweet.

His voice was just another plus.

“Y/N?” James asks, his voice now unsure compared to before when it had been a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

Your head shakes and you breathing resumes. “Hey! Hi.” Clearing your throat so you don’t sound too excited, because, yeah, that totally works, you continue. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t answer.”

His low chuckle sends a thrill down your spine. “Sorry. I was watching a movie and didn’t want anyone to hear us.”

“Oh,” you frown. “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting time with your friends?”

“Nono!” There’s a clatter and a slight thumping on the other end. “We live together and they kinda dragged me into a movie night. Trust me, you’re saving me.”

“Well, what movie was it?” you laugh before another question comes to mind. “How many friends do you live with?”

There’s a pause.

“Like, ten.” Another godsent laugh rings through the speaker. “Usually.”

“Usually? Ten?”

James inhales sharply. “Uh, yeah. We live in a pretty big place together, and some have their own place but stay over sometimes.”

“Like a never-ending sleepover. Sounds fun.” You think. You’d only ever been to one sleepover in your life and it had ended for you when you began crying for your mom to pick you up early.

“Sometimes it is. But other times we bud heads a lot.” Despite the words, there’s a fondness in his voice that reveals the annoyance that may come with living with so many friends add to happy memories. “Like tonight, one wanted to watch Star Trek and Clint wanted to watch Mean Girls or something.”

“Mean Girls?” Your ear practically perk up. You could enjoy Star Trek, but—Mean Girls.

“You know it?”

And you would have laughed this question off had he said it sarcastically, because who doesn’t know it, but James’s voice pitches a note higher in surprise, and whatever he had been doing that made background noise ceases.

Just to be sure, you laugh. “Who doesn’t?”

James stays quiet.

“James—” a pause, and you whisper, “I don’t know your last name,” before continuing with a stronger voice. “James Just James, are you telling me you’ve never even heard of Mean Girls before tonight?”

“. . . James Just James has not,” he admits. He’s embarrassed, but amusement seeps into his words so he knows you’re partly teasing, thank god.

James once confirmed to you indirectly that he lives in New York and, now that you hear his voice, has a strong Brooklyn accent. So you’re assuming he at least spent his childhood in Brooklyn, and you refuse to believe anyone who’s spent so much time in the country hasn’t at least heard of the movie unless they’re living without technology, which is impossible because you’re on the phone with him and he tweets with an iPhone.

“So what movie did you guys settle on?” You take a sip from the drink James bought you, frowning a bit because you know James was right about the cramps and now you feel a little guilty. Then you laugh as you begin reaching for your laptop where you have your movies stored.

A sigh sounds from the line, and you get the feeling that James knows what you’re doing. “Star Trek won.” And then something that resembles a whimper leaves him. “You should be honored. I like those movies, but I chose to talk to you, and now I’m taking this abuse.”

You bite your lip. “Do you want to go back to your movie night with your friends?”

The question holds extra weight than it normally would. It’s an attempt to find where you stand with him and an out.

“I really don’t.” His voice was already deep the second you heard it, but it drops a few octaves. For what, you’re not sure, but it is definitely appreciated. Maybe he did it so he got his point across, but it doesn’t have his desired effect. He just said he wants to talk to you in a voice that has you feeling twenty degrees hotter.

Your brain buffers and you lose track of what you were doing, so you hum. “Cool.” What had you just been talking about?

Internet Explorer level speed and alertness.

It isn’t until you feel the cold liquid of your drink that had tipped over and was slowly leaking onto your thighs and bedsheets that you gain awareness.

“Shit.” Even then, you move through figurative molasses before shaking your head and rushing to pick the drink up and move over to assess the damage.

It’s only a small spot on your comforter, your pajama pants taking most of the spill, and most of what’s left of the drink is the strawberries and ice.

“What’s wrong?”

And because you’re still not completely back online yet, you say, “I wet the bed. And my pants.”

Internet. Explorer.

The extra twenty degrees are back, but for all the wrong reasons, and along with it are chills at the horror of what came from your mouth. You face twists at the odd blend of stimulus on your body.

James’s laughter reverberates throughout your cramped studio apartment, and you groan. “That’s not what I meant.” But you’re sure he doesn’t hear you over the sound of his own guffaws.

You like how he sounds laughing this joyfully, but damn the context.

“I—” he nearly chokes on his own words, and what started as a laughing fit has now turned into a mix of laughing and fighting to breathe. Finally, he coughs one last time and inhales deeply to obtain whatever air he lost. “I’m sorry. You what?” His voice is shaky on account of trying to repress any lingering giggles he still has within him.

You sigh and squish your cheeks to keep your own smile down. “I spilled the drink a bit.”

He laughs lightly for a couple more seconds at your admission. “How?”

“Uh.” And now you’re sweating. How do you say your voice makes me weak without sounding like a creep? “I was distracted.”

He lets loose the remaining laughs he had held back for your benefit. And now you can’t hide your own smile, and soon enough you chuckles join his.

As he’s catching his breath again, you make your way to you dresser to pull out another pair of bottoms. “Hey,” you call because you left your phone on speaker on your bed. “Would you like to watch Mean Girls so you’re not the only person in the world who doesn’t know about it anymore?”

“How?”

You jump back onto the bed, grabbing hold of your laptop in the middle of your rolling. “You have FaceTime right?”

“Uhh . . . I think I have it,” he mutters.

You’re first worries when you first met James was that he had actually been an old man. You want to roll your eyes. No, no. He wasn’t an old man, but he sounded as technologically inept as one.

“It should be an option on the call screen,” you help, clicking on the movie and pausing before it can begin. “I really can’t believe how you even knew about Twitter in the first place.”

“My friend said I made too many bad jokes and needed to find a way to share them without actually saying them. My other friend showed me a video on it the next day.” He sounds distracted as he looked for the aforementioned option. “Found it. But, would you be able to see my face?”

“Only if you want me to,” you assured quickly, setting your phone on the makeshift stand that you had placed on your windowsill. You aimed it at an angle that would allow James to watch the movie with you. “I won’t be looking at my phone, and you can flip your camera so only whatever’s in front of you is showing.”

A second later, there’s a vibrating beside you and you only peek at the screen for a second so you’re sure your finger is on the right place to answer the call.

“Hey,” you greet, again, to make sure the sound’s alright.

He laughs when you poke your head into the camera’s line of sight when the lack of response worries you. “Sorry, I was getting comfortable.”

“Okay, are you sure you want to watch this movie? Or did I pressure you to say yes?”

James hums his affirmation. “I want to watch it. Clint said it was a comedy.”

You smile, giddy at finally talking to him, instead of messaging, even if it was on the phone. First date, pops into your head without your say, but you brush it off. It wasn’t a date. Even though you always thought staying in to watch movies together would make for a cute date.

You press the spacebar at his okay and watch as the Paramount opening begins.

< two-and-a-half —— four >

taglist: @marvelshit99 @jhangelface0523 @willowtree42095 @moshymosh @a-book-pressed-rose

[endless-whump]

Milo: Panic

CW: Dissoci@tion, flashbacks, panic attack, ptsd, car crash, 

Masterlist

This takes place post captivity.  Was gonna wait to start writing this until I got the rescue finished, but my brain had other plans and fuck writing chronologically amiright

----

Nick had just stepped away for five seconds, just to ask an employee something.  Milo leaned against their cart, observing the isle of cereals.  He stepped up to the shelf, almost bumping into a woman as she walked past.  She took one look at him and seemed to be starting an apology when she caught sight of his hands, and Milo could see the shift of expression

“Whoa...oh, sorry.”She’d choked out, staring as Milo reached out to grab a box off the shelf. “I just- are your hands ok?  I can get that for you. What happened to them?”

The onslaught of questions stunned Milo, sending him taking a step back as the woman reached out and grabbedhis hand, pulling it towards her and observing the lines of still healing scarring.

“I, um, sorry...um...can you-”

“I bet you work in a trade,” She interrupted.  “I know how machinery can be...oh dear, these are bad.”

Milo shuddered at the touch, trying to pull his hand away but seeming to be stuck in place.  His eyes were wide as she looked over the marks curiously, oblivious to Milo’s distress.

“I can recommend healing cream for that, sweetheart, my husband had a surgery and-”

“The hell do you think you’re doing?”

Nick pushed himself between them, and the burning contact was gone. Milo blinked, stumbled back a little.

“I was having a lovely chat with this young man, I was just getting around to recommending some-”

“He doesn’t like to be touched, and we’re not interested. Milo, lets go.”

There was touch again, but it was Nick this time so Milo didn’t mind, and he was quickly pulled from the isle.  His mind gradually went more and more blank as they checked out, Nick glancing at Milo every once in a while to make sure he was ok while he loaded everything up.

Milo was dead silent as Nick maneuvered him out of the store, muttering under his breath as he hurried to shove the food in the trunk and get his partner into the car.

Milo pulled his sleeves over his hands, curling up in the passenger seat as Nick clicked his seatbelt, putting the car in reverse to pull out of the parking lot.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm but...what the hell.  That was bullshit,”  Nick murmured, irritation lacing his voice.  “The nerve some people have... Need to get home and deal with this.”

Milo knew ‘this’ meant him.  Nick knew he wasn’t going to reach Milo, not here in public where everything still felt so uncertain and dangerous and unpredictable.  Nick knew they needed to get home, where he could sit Milo down on the couch with some music and hold him and tell him everything would be alright.

Nick knew he couldn’t pull Milo back from here.  He’d seen him unresponsive like this enough times to know that the first step he needed to take was getting them home, getting them to an environment Milo registered as safe and nonthreatening. Only then would he hesitantly come back, the glazed over, blank look in his eyes fading in exchange for a fearful and mildly confused one.  From there they could build to feeling safe again.

All of these were thoughts that drifted in the back of Milo’s mind as he laid his head against the window, letting his mind drift. Drifting was safe, drifting let the pain fade and recede to a faint hum he let himself not focus on.

He wasn’t sure how long he let his mind stay like that, only paying attention to the feeling of the car moving and Nick talking, mostly to himself.  It helped when he talked, though Milo didn’t respond.  He was almost always listening, even if nothing he said actually stuck.

Things like that helped, alleviated that deep, empty feeling, but nothing besides time could ever seem to truly shake it.  Hiding his hands didn’t change the fact that they still felt like they were burning, the unfamiliar touch sending him reeling.

“People these days...what the hell-”

There was a screech of tires as the car jerked to a stop, and it was enough to have Milo glance up.  

“What the fuck, what the fuck, does this dude not see us? Slow the-”

Milo barely had time to react as another car turned the corner and slammed right into them, hitting the passenger side with an awful crunch, a strangled yell sounding beside him before everything went quiet.

Milo was stunned, staring at the shattered glass of the windshield.  Everything was dead silent yet at the same time so loud, his ears ringing enough to deafen everything else.  The smell of smoke and gasoline was one of the first senses to register, everything coming back slowly, bit by bit, piece by piece.

The second thing he noticed was that it was getting harder to breathe.

He coughed, choking on something thick and coppery tasting as it rose in the back of his throat.  He couldn’t breathe, he was getting taken again it was happening all over again he was gonna get-

“Milo?”

Nick’s voice snapped Milo back to the present, and he tried to turn his head.  There was a hand on his cheek, a blurred face in front of him.  He couldn’t move metal pinning him on the inside of the car.

Milo groaned in pain, trying to move his arms.  He was so cold, this was just like that night. There wasn’t any rain, but he could practically hear it, could feel the hands dragging him from the car.  He couldn’t breathe, he was back and he was going to get taken again and he couldn’t breathe-

“Milo, oh my god are you ok?

Fuck,it was hard to breathe.  Nick was struggling to get free from his seatbelt, blood running down his face. Nick was hurt, why was Nick here?  He was gone, nobody was coming from him and nobody would ever find him… Nick wasn’t supposed to be here.

He whimpered, head falling to the side.  There was blood..Nick was bleeding...no.  

This was his blood.  

There was so much blood, it was cold but his side was warm, red staining his grey hoodie where there was something...sticking out?

He coughed again, pain flaring up in his side where there was metal cutting into him, pinning him in the car.  There were panicked voices around him, a hand grabbing onto him, but he couldn’t seem to register any of it.  It was all so familiar but different at the same time, but either way it terrified him to his core.

“-eed you to focus on me, Milo.  Milo- oh my god, there's so much...Milo can you hear me?”

It was Nick again...Nick wasn’t supposed to be here. He was in Milo’s line of view now, hands on either side of his face.  Deep green eyes stared into his, filled with panic and worry.

“N...Nick?” Milo whispered, leaning into the touch.  He wheezed as his chest fought to expand, chills wracking his body.

“Nick... m-m’cold, I...I cant...I can’t...”

“I, I know, Milo, help’s on the way.  Stay awake for me, ok?”

He groaned in pain and tried to pull away as there was pressure applied to his side.  Nick had taken his hoodie and bundled it up, pressing it to the bleeding wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

Everything was spinning again, and he just wanted to let his mind go away again but the pain was too strong, he couldn’t let himself go unfocused anymore.

“P-Please, please Milo, I’m right here, look at me,”

He whimpered when more pressure was applied to the wound, and he moved to try and push Nick’s hands off.

“Hey, n-need you to let me...let me stop the bleeding, Milo.” Nick murmured, breathing hard. Milo tried again but failed to relieve the painful pressure, tears streaming down his face.

There were more voices, a kiss pressed against his head before there was an angry shout, and then Nick was pulled away.

He was alone again, choking on his own blood and feeling like he was drowning as he just got colder and colder, but it was easier to drift now. Cold was more familiar than this sharp pain.

Then, all at once it seemed, it turned from cold to burning, agonizing hot.  The passenger was pulled open and there were more hands on him, but they were unfamiliar.

Unfamiliar was dangerous

Milo fought back, pushing weakly against the people pulling him from the car.  It was Samuel all over again, it was dark and he was being dragged across the ground. He gagged at the stench of blood as his side bled profusely, even with the agonizing pressure being held.

“-eed you to stop, Milo,”

He needed to get out, he needed to get free.  He was so closeto being free.  Maybe if he fought back harder this time, or if he did something different-

There was something being tightened down around his wrists and arms...restraints.  He was laying flat now, being restrained as people held him down and kept that awful, sharp pressure.

No, nono no, he couldn’t let them tie him down again.  No matter how much he twisted and struggled he couldn’t manage to get free, panic taking hold over his mind.  The fingers running through his hair, meant to be reassuring, felt like possessiveness and a threat in this state.

The panic took hold and stayed, even as there was a pinch in his inner arm and things started to go quieter, started to go darker.  His senses felt muffled, like there was a buffer put between him and everything else.  Everything started to fade, even the voices and the lights and the touch and the pain and everything,

Everything except the panic.

----

Taglist

@haro-whumps@spiffythespook@simplygrimly@insanitywishes@lonesome--hunter@deluxewhump@elisabethrosewrites@insanitywishes@iaminamoodymoodtoday @bleeding-demon-teeth @lumpofwhump@redstainedsocks  @finder-of-rings

[moonlight-ghoulette]

Audio

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! This is a lengthy one, so I put it under the cut! This is pure smut with a liiittle bit of fluff at the end. Enjoy! :)

They’ve been pushing the chore off on each other for weeks. They shared a drive where they kept most, if not all of their works in progress or bits and pieces of current and upcoming brainstorms. Scripts, ideas, bits of lyrics they created to show each other later, separated music tracks. These files spanned back years, and most of them were of no use to them anymore, just taking up space. Rhett begrudgingly accepted the task after much prodding from Link, and took a night off to settle in with some hot tea, a soft couch and his laptop.

Rhett sighed heavily as he took a sip of his tea, scrolling the page down for what felt like ages. Most of it was organized at least, having similar filenames to group each file together. Except there was one near the bottom, unlike the rest, that Rhett didn’t recognize.

headphones_only.mp3

Rhett pondered for a moment, hovering his cursor over the ‘remove’ option. It didn’t have a proper name like most of the files did, so it was probably junk. But the last thing he needed was to delete an important audio track. It’s entirely possible one of them got lazy in the renaming process. 

Rhett turned the volume up on his laptop and double-clicked. The sound of soft breathing and rustling filled the room through the tinny speakers. Rhett’s head tilted in confusion. He definitely didn’t pin this as anything important. There must have been some sort of mishap, one of them mic’d up and recorded at the wrong time and the unneeded file slipping through their search. 

Then, a soft hum reverberated through the speaker. Rhett’s finger mashed the space bar, pausing it. He was sure that this was just some trash file meant for the recycle bin, but something about it immediately felt wrong. It felt intimate in a way that made his stomach sink. It sounded like Link, and the sounds of him being recorded during an off moment taken out of context almost felt too private for Rhett to feel comfortable listening to. The breathing, the rustling of the mic against fabric, a soft hum of concentration. 

Rhett glanced back at the filename. headphones_only.mp3. He suddenly realized that someone kept this on purpose, even taking the time to rename it. It was no mistake.

Rhett got up, dug a pair of headphones out of his desk’s drawer and slipped them on as he settled back down onto the couch, plugging the jack into the computer. He felt silly for it, being alone, but the privacy made him feel better. He already felt wrong for listening to it as much as he had, let alone returning to listen to it in earnest. He slid the buffer bar back and clicked play once again. 

There was the breathing, the shuffling, the soft hum. The sounds felt like they were directly in his ear, causing him to shiver ever so slightly.

“Mmmm. Hey,”

Rhett’s finger scrambled for the spacebar again, but stopped just short. It definitely was Link.  This was getting to be too much too quick for Rhett, but the morbid curiosity held him fast. His heart thumped in his chest as he sat, entranced by the soft, whispered dialogue. This was a mistake. He should stop. Link obviously did not mean to put this in their shared drive. Yet Rhett found himself frozen, straining to listen, scandalized.

“So you probably stumbled across this on accident, right? Wondering ’what the crap is this thing doing in here?’ an’ ya clicked on it, trying to figure it out.” Link giggled softly into the mic, his voice low and raspy with the effort to keep it as hushed as possible. The soft shuffling continued all throughout the dialogue. “Come to think of it, it probably shouldn’t be in here. I mean, we’re the only ones with the password to this thing. But y'know. This is–ahh–just work stuff. Probably shouldn’t mix it, right?”

Rhett was frozen stiff, his jaw slack. Link was speaking in such a slow, soft drawl, punctuated with slow, deep breaths. Nothing like his usual upbeat, melodious voice. Rhett could practically feel Link’s breath in his ear. And what even is this in the first place?

“An’ if you find this, that’s fine. I guess the only other person who’s bound to find it is you, after all, right? So it must be for you. Well, if you wanna hear it, it is.  An’ if you find out that this isn’t your thing, you can–mmmm–you can delete it and never speak of it. That’s fine. Just hope you’re not gonna freak out on me for it.”

Rhett had no idea what Link was on about, but he couldn’t stop listening if he tried.

“Gosh I’m ramblin’ aren’t I. Well anyway, if you haven’t scrapped this by now, you must be interested. And I hope you are, Rhett.”

There it was. The confirmation that this was indeed put here for a reason. A very specific reason. Rhett’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes wide in shock. There was no way his mind could possibly process what was happening. It wasn’t for a lack of trying.

“Mmm. Can I be honest? Feels nice knowing you’re there, on the other side, listenin’ to me. Feels real nice. Be better if you were actually here, but this will do. Gosh, the idea of it gets me goin’, Bo. You have no idea.”

Rhett’s cock caught the drift before his brain did, twitching to life underneath his laptop. He never expected this. Not that it was an unwelcome surprise, just a very shocking one. 

They’ve been teetering on the edge for years. Growing up together, living together, working together; two souls in that situation are bound to form some sort of deep bond if you tether them together for long enough. It was only a matter of “when”, not “if”. Deep down, both of them were clawing at the walls that they each put up, not knowing the other was right on the other side, just as desperate to break through their own. Link was clearly the first to break.

“Ahh, yeah baby. Been thinking about this for a long time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can bet that you want this too, that you’ve wanted this just as long as I have. I mean, you wouldn’t still be here listenin’ in on me like a creep if you didn’t. Unless you don’t and you really are just a creep.” Link laughed softly, the giggle melting to a long sigh.

“Glad you’re here though. I was hoping you’d join me one of these days. Gets a little pathetic talkin’ to nothing, pretending it’s you.”

Rhett jumped slightly as the sound of a bottle lid being flipped open crackled through his headphones. His breath caught as he heard the telltale sound of skin being slicked up.

“Mmmmm, yeah. Maybe one day you’d like to join me for real? Oh yeah, I’d like that a lot. You could watch. You could watch me doin’ what I’m doin’ right now, strokin’ myself. Rock hard, fuckin’ into my hand. You like that? Or maybe you’d like to get a feel for yourself. Wrapping those big hands around my cock? Lettin’ me finally get a taste of you? Yeahhh. Does the thought of that make you hard, baby? Fuck, I know it does for me.”

Rhett found himself hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, hurriedly tugging them down to his thighs, the laptop sliding haphazardly off his lap onto the couch beside him. His cock was half-hard, hanging heavy in the air in his lap. Link’s voice was like a spell, and he was helplessly entranced by the gravelly, low timbre and the filth that was spilling out of Link’s mouth. Rhett closed his eyes tight, one hand gripping the base of his cock, giving it a firm squeeze as he nestled further back into the couch.

“God, how many nights have I done this, wasting breath on moaning your name when you coulda been there hearin’ it for yourself. Hearin’ what you do to me. Mmmm. Gosh, Rhett. What are you doin’ to me?”

“Oh, Link,” Rhett whispered into the air, his hand moving fast over his cock.

“You touchin’ yourself? You gettin’ off to the sound of my voice right now? Fuck Rhett, that’s so hot. I wish I could see you. God, you must look so good. Fuckin’ your hand with that big cock of yours, thinkin’ of me. Thinkin’ of what you’d do to me if I were there, yeah?”

Rhett was panting, bucking into his hand, his other roaming hungrily over his body. Link’s voice completely enveloped him, throwing him into a whole new level of arousal he’d never experienced before. The slick sounds on Link’s end sped up, his breath coming in jagged gasps between the dialogue.

“Oooh, I know what I’d want. I’d do anything to have your cock in my mouth right now. Tasting you, teasin’ you, suckin’ you off like the world depended on it. Hearin’ you moan for me–oh, oh fffuck! You like the sound of that? Ohh, that’s right, I bet you do. You wanna fuck me, Rhett? Oh my god, I bet you’d feel so good, shovin’ your cock in me, using me, markin’ me all over, fillin’ me up, making me yours, making me yours forever. Mmm, how’s it feel knowin’ I’m fuckin myself with my fingers thinkin’ of your cock?”

Link’s voice was frantic, high and breathy, needy and whining. The slick sounds and the smack of skin meeting skin was a constant backtrack to his pleading words.

Rhett was moaning, gasping, thrusting up into his tight fist, chanting Link’s name as he desperately fucked into his hand, his other hand gripping painfully at the wavy amber locks on his head. Link’s voice felt nearly tangible to Rhett, each and every sound sending a shockwave of pleasure through him, straight to his cock. He’d give anything to be there. To hold Link close, pin him down beneath him, to look into those eyes, revel in his dick-drunk face, to fuck him into a pleading, writhing mess. Rhett was so close. But he was not going to come until Link did. 

“Oh my god, Rhett, please. Pleeaase. I want it so bad. Fuck me, Rhett. Fuck. Me. Hard. I wanna feel you for days. Ohh, you feel so fuckin’ good. You gonna come for me? Yeah? You gonna come for me, moanin’ my name? Oh god, baby, please, do it. I can’t last much longer.”

Rhett felt his muscles clench, his spine tingle, his pulse quicken. He was going to give Link what he asked for, right on time. 

“Oh my god, Rhett! Come on, baby, yeah, yeah, just like that! Ohhh, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–fuckfuckfuckyeah– Ahh, ahhh! Rheeett!”

Rhett came hard, thick ropes of come painting his beard, chest and stomach, shouting profanities and Link’s name between harsh gasps for air as the sound of Link doing the same rang out through the headphones, shouts and cries and Rhett’s name echoing loudly in his head. His vision nearly whited out as he came, every nerve in his body alight with white-hot pleasure, his hips humping the air as he rode out the diminishing waves. Once spent, Rhett went slack, panting, hand loosely wrapped around his throbbing, softening cock as Link’s breathing slowly calmed to a sigh.

“Shit. Wow. You still with me over there? Hope you didn’t pass out or nothin’. God knows I came close.” Link giggled, the extreme lack of energy evident in his breathy, languid voice. Rhett laid still, eyes closed and chest heaving, listening to Link talk them both down.

“That was amazing, Rhett. Gosh, I made such a mess ‘cause of you. Mmmm, I love it though. Wish you were here to see this, to see what you’ve done to me. You drive me crazy, Rhett. I hope you know that now. You drive me absolutely crazy. You always have.”

Rhett would be surprised to find his heart had enough energy left to flutter at Link’s words, had he not been utterly focused on every syllable coming out of Link’s mouth.

“And, you know. You can always come back to this. I’d love it if you do. I’ll always be here waiting for you when you need a little help. But Rhett? I hope that one day you can see this for yourself. I hope that one day we can experience this together, and not in some silly multiverse, screwy timeline way like this is. If you can’t, or don’t want to, I get it. I really do. We have a lot built up together, Bo. I understand if you’re apprehensive. You can keep this file as your dirty little secret forever. But I just need you to know. That the answer from me will always be yes. Yes, I want this. Yes, I want you. Yes, I crave you. Yes, I… I love, you, Rhett. All of you. I always have, and there ain’t ever gonna be a day I don’t. Whenever you build up the courage, God knows it took me long enough, just say the word and I’m yours Rhett, in any way that you want me.”

Rhett’s breath caught in his chest, a deluge of emotions flooding in like a dam break.

“Until next time, Rhett. I’ll be waiting.”

[imagining-supernatural]

Living By The List

Summary: Your friend is late, there’s a creepy guy on the other end of the bar, and the only trustworthy creepy-guy-buffer you can see in the bar is, for some reason, famous celebrity Sebastian Stan.

Word Count: 1.485

Warnings: Fluff!! Creepy Guy. Implied romantic relationship between Jeff Goldblum and Kevin Bacon.

A/N: This fic has traveled MANY MANY miles to come to you today! I handwrote it, sent pictures to @kclaire1 to type it up, then I proofread it and sent it back to have Marisa post it! Sometimes having a broken laptop leads to fun little experiments!

~~~~~

It´s pure human instinct. Something from the primal part of our brains that´s survived the industrialization of the world. The hair on the back of your neck raises and your senses snap into instant focus.

Someone was watching you.

And that voice in the back of your mind whispered that it was not a friendly stare.

As casually as you could, you cast your eyes around the only bar in this small town. It wasn’t the first time you looked around, but it was the first time your goal wasn’t to see If your friend had shown up yet.

Your eyes met dark brown ones across the room and instant shivers raced down your spine. As a solo woman in a bar, you didn´t have many defenses. And, being so new in town, you didn’t know many of the other patrons enough to trust them to be your creepy guy buffer.

There was the city drunk, Joey.  But he was already passed out. And Mr. Sylvester sat on the other end of the bar, but he gave off that pervert vibe whenever you ran into him. You supposed that was the less creepy of the two options, but you weren’t that desperate yet.

The rest of the bar patrons were strangers, until your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue eyes, crinkles around the corner as he laughed.

What the hell was Sebastian Stan doing in your small town?

Movement from the other end of the bar drew your attention and you saw the creepy stranger starting to move your way.

Well, you were definitely desperate enough to get over any celebrity induced shyness.

Quickly, you gathered your things, picked up your drink, and made your way to Sebastian´s table, sliding into an empty seat.

“Hi, I promise I’m not a crazy fangirl trying to ruin your night, but there´s this guy over there sending some bad vibes and I get the feeling that you´re my best bet for a creepy guy buffer until my friend gets here. I´m Y/N by the way.”

After taking a deep breath, you noticed with relief that Sebastian and his friend looked amused, rather than angry.

The friend extended his hand for a handshake, which you returned without hesitation. “Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Jeremiah. This is Sebastian.”

Their acceptance at your presence let you breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I´d say I won´t be intruding on your night too long, but I’m perpetually early and my friend is perpetually late, so…”

“So I should order the three of us another round, yeah?” Sebastian said before signaling the bartender.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to …” you trailed off as the deed was already done.

Sebastian´s lips quirked up In a smile and he waved off your belated protest. “So, Y/N, were you and your friend meeting up to celebrate something tonight?”

“I don’t really know. She talks so much that we could either be celebrating a new deal at her work or the fact that she found a cute dress. Breanne is the kind of person who celebrates everything.”

“Sounds like a fun friend to have.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “An expensively fun friend.”

“Lots of celebratory drinks?” Jeremiah guessed correctly. You nodded, raised your glass, and downed the last of your mojito. There was another round coming, so why make this drink last?

“You know what brings me here tonight. What about you guys? We don’t get many celebrities in North Dakota.”

Jeremiah grinned and sat forward, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. “I´ve always want to drive down the Enchanted Highway.”

“You should have seen him in high school when he found out about the highway,” Sebastian cut in. “Jere loves weird and strange things.”

“I heard the enchanted highway is pretty cool.”

“You´ve never seen it? And you live, like, two hours from it?” Jeremiah seemed almost offended. You had to admit, his passion for all things weird and strange was pretty refreshing.

With a shrug, you answered simply. “I´ve only been here a year and I’ve taken my time setting in.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Jeremiah scoffed playfully shaking his head for effect.  

Sebastian laughed. “Not everyone is as excited about the thing on our list as you are, man.”

“Your list? Like a bucket list?”

“Kind of. More like a list of places and things to see before we turn fifty.” Sebastian answered in his soft, smooth voice. “So, not really like a list of things to do, like skydiving.”

“Nah, I get it. My friend and I had a kind of weird list, back when I lived in the city.”

That definitely sparked Jeremiah’s interest. “Weird?”

Your conversation was interrupted by  a waitress bringing your drinks. You´d been so caught up in the conversation that you forgot about the creepy man and your friend. A glance around the room let you know that the man was gone, and Breanne was not yet here.

Completely free, you turned back to the men and took a sip of your new mojito. “We found an article online – I think it was Buzzfeed or something – and it was about how people request weird things when they reserve a hotel room. Like for three red M&Ms to be placed on the dresser. So we made a list of 20 weird things to request and tried to race to the end of the list.”

“Who won?”

“Neither of us.” Another sip of the drink, and a hard swallow tamped down your sudden rush of emotions, just enough for you to give a practiced explanation. “The list got weirder the longer it went on and it was harder for the hotel staff to get on board.”

“What was the first item?”

“Don’t you want to know what the weirdest item was?” you asked Jeremiah.

His eyebrow rose in a challenge. “The starting point is so much more telling.”

“Alright.” Shifting around in your seat, you looked Jeremiah in the eye. “Number one. Request a picture of Kevin Bacon and a picture of Jeff Goldblum staring at each other like they´re so deeply in love while Edwin McCain´s I´ll Be plays in the background.”

While Jeremiah leaned back considering that, Sebastian leaned forward. “How many hotel did it takes before you got that one?”

“Three. Salt Lake and Seattle were busts, but New Orleans earned my respect.”

“Interesting. Kevin Bacon and Jeff Goldbum, you said?”

“Unwritten rule that if the staff adds anything like rose petals or a candle, you have to tip fifteen percent more.” Jugging your phone out of your bag, you kept talking. “I ended up tipping over twenty percent because, not only they include candles, rose petals, and chocolate covered strawberries, but they also left a note where the entire staff voted on whether their couple name would be Goldbacon or Baconbloom.”

You pulled up the picture you had taken of the sight, enjoying the laughter as they studied it. Just before you put your phone away, it buzzed with an incoming message.

Bre-Babe: Sorry girl! Work emergency. I´ll make it up toy you tomorrow!! Promise!!

You: No problem! G’Luck!!

“Well,” you said, drowning the last of your second mojito of the night, “Bre´s stuck at work so I guess I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for being my creepy guy buffer. And for the drink and conversation.”

“You don´t have to go,” Jeremiah started.

“Yeah,” Sebastian started. “We only know number one on your hotel list.”

“If I stay, I’ll get drunk and Bre will make me go out again tomorrow. I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five to get drunk two nights in a row. Seriously though, thank you. And I hope to see some cool pictures of the Enchanted Highway on your Instagram, Sebastian.”

“At least let us walk you out to your car,” Sebastian insisted. “In case that creepy guy is still around.”

As you gathered your things, Jeremiah went to pay for the drinks. Sebastian helped you into your jacket. It was such an intimate, gentlemanly move that you were sure you were blushing.

And later when each man gave you a hug and kiss on the cheek?

Yeah, your cheeks were definitively flaming red.

~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you were scrolling through your Instagram feed when a photo of Kevin Bacon and Jeff Goldblum caught your eye.

@imsebastianstan: Since I didn´t request the candles, I have to tip more, right? #Baconbloom4life.

This couldn´t be real. He was just having fun. It wasn´t like the hour or so you´d spent with him meant he wanted to keep talking with you… right?

Your phone was halfway in your purse but you couldn´t bring yourself to let go.

“What if…”

Before you could chicken out, you unlocked your phone and typed a comment.

@livingbythelist: No chocolate strawberries in sight… too bad. Better luck on number 2 #teamgoldbacon.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Snowed In ~ Bucky x Reader Oneshot

A/N: Apparently we might get snow in a couple days. It is officially valid for me to post a story about snow. (I’ve been trying to control myself). Hope you enjoy! There will probs be more snowy fluffy cuddles. 

Summary: You and Bucky get stuck at a safe house one night. Could it change everything for the two of you? 

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader, Steve (minor) 

Rating: T 

Warnings: Implied smut, mention of sick parent (alzheimers), some general sadness, angst if you squint? 

Word Count:  2337 

“Hey, Stevie. The package has been delivered and we are en route to extraction.”

“About that extraction…”

“What about it?”

“The storm is too bad. None of our pilots can get out to you until it dies down.”

“Great,” Bucky muttered beside you as he tried not to send the car careening off the road.

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“There’s a safe house two miles from your location. I’m sending you the coordinates. Bunk down there for the night and we’ll hopefully be able to get to you tomorrow.”

“Got it. Are you okay? You sound stressed, Stevie.”

“I’m fine.” You knew he was lying. “You two okay?”

“We’re good,” you said quickly.

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, but you ignored it.

“Are you sure? If not…” He trailed off with a huff.

“We’re good, Stevie,” you assured him.

“Alright. Then just call in when you get to the safe house.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Take care of each other.”

You plugged the coordinates into the GPS before looking out at the quickly worsening storm. You were glad Bucky was the one driving. You were also glad that you were going to bunk down somewhere for the night. Of course the prospect of staying with the Winter Soldier without any buffer was worrisome.  

It wasn’t that you were afraid of Bucky. You knew he would never hurt you. But you were intimidated by the super soldier. And you didn’t think he liked you very much.

When you had joined the team, Steve had become your S.O and eventually your pseudo big brother. You were practically inseparable now. As such you had spent a lot of time with Bucky in the last year and a half, but he still clammed up around you 90% of the time. However the other 10% he was charming and inquisitive, and that had been plenty for you to develop a crush on him.

As he drove, you surreptitiously watched his profile, cataloguing each clench of his jaw as he struggled to keep the SUV on the road.

“We’re here,” he reported flatly when you pulled up to the small cabin.

“Cozy,” you observed, doing your best to sound cheery.  

He huffed out half a laugh, and you counted it as a point in your favor.

After a too quick shower, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and shuffled to the kitchen to scrounge up some food for you and Bucky. You had just dumped the ravioli into the strainer when Bucky wandered in, sniffing the air.

“Whatever brand sauce that is, we need to buy it for the tower.”

“It’s the usual brand. I just added a little something extra to it.”

You added another dash of thyme and gave it a stir before offering him a spoonful. His eyes slid shut and he groaned as he tasted it.

“I think you missed your calling, doll.”

You prayed that he couldn’t hear the way your heart quickened at the nickname. It was always reserved for nights when he felt particularly affectionate towards you.

“Is there enough for two?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course. Figured you might be hungry.”

You quickly dished out the food, humming to yourself, feeling oddly at ease with Bucky.

“This safe house is surprisingly well stocked. Do you want red or white?”

He grinned and held up two bottles of wine, when you looked at him in confusion.

“Red please.”

“Coming right up.”

“I’m also pretty sure that this isn’t so much a safe house as it is one of Tony’s vacation houses,” you commented as you set the plates down before sitting cross-legged on the comfy kitchen chair.

“Lucky us.”

“Lucky us,” you echoed, digging into your food.

“Have you ever made your own sauce from scratch?” Bucky asked after he finished his first round of ravioli.

“Yeah, a bunch of times. It’s pretty good.”

“Do you have a secret recipe?”

You shook your head with a smirk. “No recipe. I do it by taste. Every batch is different.”

“What made you get into cooking?”

So he was in an inquisitive mood tonight.

“I was the daughter of a single mom who had to work way too many hours to keep us afloat. Eventually it became my way of giving back to her.”

“She’s clearly an amazing woman to have raised such an amazing daughter.”

You wanted to scoff, brush off the compliment, but his words were casual but sure.

“She’s one of the strongest people I know. I hope to be half the woman she is someday. I remember this one time, I always begged to go to the beach every summer, but she could never take the time off. But one year she finally had a few days off and she packed up the car and we went to the beach. Only it was the middle of February in New England. It was freezing so I couldn’t go in the water. But we still walked along the beach every day at sunrise and sunset. And we ate junk food and watched late night TV. It was great.”

“Steve and I did something like that one time. But we were dumb enough to go in the water. Steve was stuck under blankets for a week.”

You smiled at the fondness in his voice.

“Right after I graduated from college, I had saved up enough to take her on a real vacation. We spent two weeks in Hawaii. I think that was the first time I saw my mom relax,” you smiled to yourself as you remembered.  

“That was really sweet, doll. Are you two still close?”

Your face fell and he knew he had asked the wrong question.

“Sort of. Not really. I mean I still see her all the time, but umm. She has early onset alzheimers so she doesn’t really remember me most days.”

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

You sniffed and focused on the ceiling trying not to outright cry.

“Sometimes there are still good days. But she’s being well-taken care of, so that’s all I can really ask for.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful topic. As you know I’m pretty rusty on the whole good conversation thing.”

He was floundering, and you shook your head smiling.

“No, I haven’t thought about those trips in forever. It’s nice to remember good times with my mom.”

“Memories certainly are precious.”

“I’ll drink to that.”  

 The conversation turned lighter after that. Several hours later, you tried and failed to fight a yawn. You didn’t want the night to end. This was the longest conversation you had had with Bucky, and you didn’t want whatever magic there was to go away.

“You’re exhausted, doll. We should get some sleep.”

“I’m good.”

“Your eyes are practically closed. Why don’t you take the bed? I’ll take care of the dishes and crash on the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch. I’ve always enjoyed sleeping by a fireplace.”

You helped put the dishes in the sink before wrapping the comforter around you once more and headed for the couch. You paused in the doorway as Bucky whistled while he washed the dishes.

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You sucked in a deep breath, before rushing through your next words.

“This was nice. We should do it more often.”

He smiled and chuckled a little before answering.

“I’d like that.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night, doll.”  

 You woke up shivering. You were about to leave your cocoon to stoke the fire when Bucky emerged from bedroom with the duvet from the bed around his shoulders.

“I can hear your teeth chattering in there."

“S-sss-sorrry, B-bb-b-b-ucky.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, y/n. The heat went out.” He tossed a few logs on the fire to build it up. “Alright, move over.”

“W-why?” You asked, but did as he asked.

“Because, clearly the fire isn’t enough to keep you warm. But I can.”

He stretched out along the couch and you hesitantly lay down next to him. But the second your body sensed his heat, you burrowed into him instinctually.

“God, you’re so hot,” you mumbled around a yawn.

“You’re making me blush, doll,” he smirked and spread the duvet over the two of you.

Some part of your brain was mortified.

“I meant your body is hot.”

“Oh really?”

You mentally smacked yourself.

“Just go to sleep, you talking furnace,” you grumbled.

“Whatever you say.”

You would have continued digging yourself a hole with a shovel of embarrassing comments, but his warmth and his fingers absent-mindedly rubbing back and forth over your lower back had you sighing in contentment and before you knew it you were asleep.

 The next time you woke up, Bucky’s lips were resting against yours. Your first thought was how unbelievably soft his lips were. The second was something along the lines of oh god what if he wakes up like this?!

You slowly tried to pull away, but he followed and now his lips were slotted with yours and you could taste the wine from dinner. You tried to turn your head but each time you moved he moved with you, so you gave up. Just then Bucky started to stir and you slammed your eyes shut, hoping he’d think you were still asleep. He stiffened the moment he woke up, and tried to pull away slowly. Instinctively you moved with him, but you couldn’t keep your eyes closed and you locked gazes with him.

You were both still for a moment, lips still interlocked until you threw caution to the wind and sucked on his lower lip. He groaned and pulled you closer. You wove your fingers into his hair. He managed to free you from the blankets you’d been huddled under and rolled so you were lying on top of him.

He trailed kisses down your neck and chest, but he froze when he reached the collar of your shirt or more accurately Steve’s shirt that you had stolen.

“I’m sorry. This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

“What would your boyfriend say?”

“I don’t think he’d give a shit since he doesn’t exist,” you laughed moving to kiss him again.

“He’s my best friend. How could you say- wait what?” He asked pulling away.

You pushed against his chest so you could sit up, still straddling him.

“Bucky, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You’re not dating Steve?”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.

“Steve?! God no. He’s like my brother.”

“Really?” He asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Really,” you told him seriously. “I’m not dating anybody.”

He grinned broadly. “In that case.”

Before you could respond his lips were back on yours. You moaned as he slid his hands under your shirt, grazing across your ribs.

 Later, you laid cuddled against Bucky on the floor beside the fireplace, humming as you traced designs across his chest.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You propped your head on your hand so you could look at him.

“Why did you think Stevie and I were dating?”

“You guys are just so close and cuddly.”

“Not any more than anyone else.”

He bobbed his head, conceding the point.

“But you say I love you all the time to him. Only to him,” he added.  “Also you wear his clothes.”

He had a point, but he was still wrong.

“I do love Steve. Like my brother. He didn’t tell you how I got on the team did he?”

“No. I assumed you were recruited because you were a smarty pants.”

“I was. Just out of college. But I was cut from the program within a week, because I couldn’t keep up physically.”

“You’re one of our best fighters.”

You preened slightly at the compliment.

“Now. Because of Steve. But before I couldn’t even run a mile. Steve fought for me, worked with me for months, pushed me when I wanted to quit, and then got Fury to clear me so I could join the team. And when the team questioned him, he stood up for me. He put his faith in me. Some weak computer nerd who probably should have been working a cubicle at this point.”

“That’s so not true, doll.”

“Whether it is or isn’t is beside the point. The thing is, how could I not love Steve after what he’s done for me? But it was never romantic.”

Bucky was silent, stewing it over.

“Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. I’m just, I was so convinced. It’s taking a little bit for my brain to catch up.”

“If you thought I was dating Steve, why didn’t you just ask him?”

“I didn’t want to mess anything up for you guys.”

“How would asking if we’re dating mess anything up?”

“Steve’s a self-sacrificing idiot,” he stated as if it answered everything.

“Agreed, but what does that have to do with anything?”  

“I was worried that if he thought I liked you, he’d try to break things off and get us together. I didn’t want to do that to either of you,” he whispered. “God that sounds so cocky, because it sounds like I assumed you liked me. I didn’t. Seriously. I hoped, but… even if you did I would never take my best friend’s girl. But god did I wish you were mine.”

You didn’t know what else to do but lean over and kiss him.

“In case it wasn’t clear. I really like you. And I’m all yours. If you want me,” you added when he swallowed nervously at your words.

“I want you. All of you.”

He cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in for a bruising kiss. You didn’t pull away until oxygen was an absolute necessity, and Bucky took the opportunity to focus on your neck, tugging down the shirt you had retrieved after your first round.

“Oh, doll.”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“No more wearing Steve’s shirts. Just mine. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

A/N: So I hope you enjoyed! Not quite as fluffy as my usual fare but it’s been kicking around for a while. So thanks for reading! 

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[mechagalaxy]

John T Mainer 28840: Hellbunny is born

Hellbunny is born

St Christopher’s Home for Wayward Pilots was a convent run hospital for those who had lost their mind and body to the ravages of mecha combat and starship piloting. The dump shock that was a constant risk for those who jacked bare brained into the great niode powered artificial intelligences that drove mecha, stargates, starships, and the great Thinking Engines of the noble houses and great trading empires left a trail of human wreckage across a thousand suns. The sisters of St Christopher’s tended to the Illyrian militaries refuse pile of broken humanity.

Given a few rubles and table scraps, St Christopher’s supported itself through charitable donations from the wealthy and powerful nobles, and a huge sideline in smuggling illegal weapons, nanotech, bioenhancements, and the ever popular Holy Trinity. The Holy Trinity in biosculpt consist of facial and skull alteration to defeat facial recognition programs, fingerprint and pheromone adjustments to stop print and chemtrace, and of course, a genetic chimera meld so your surface skin cells do not leave DNA to match existing records of whoever it was you were running from.

Sister Bunny was a hard eyed blonde whose soft reasonable voice was all most people ever heard, and the few who pushed her far enough to see the eyes go gunmetal grey and smile turn into the wide white grin of a wolf seldom would, or could speak of it. She described her life before St Christopher’s as “sort of like teaching pre-school for the disturbed”, which she allowed people to assume meant special needs teacher. It wasn’t a sin if you didn’t lie. Stupid was on their account.

When the alarm went off, and the shooting started, she keyed her implants to summon the guards, and alert the mecha pilots. Some of those who were being cared for here were dangerous to themselves and others, and the rest were worse. She assumed no one would wonder who was giving the orders, as they never had in the past. The voice of command came to her without thinking, from long years leading troops, and when that guttural rasp snapped an order, people obeyed. When things cooled off, no one would match that to sweet Sister Bunny.

The gunfire got louder, then the signals got worse.

[BOOM] The explosion of the hydrogen tank by the fuel cell knocked down the guard Boreas. Looking at the camera feed, Sister Bunny saw a patient in flapping hospital gown expertly throw the pilot to the ground and shoot him once. Then, staring again, he screamed in rage and fired 11 more times into the pilot before starting up the Boreas and looking for the mecha exit route.

Sister Bunny swore a most un-nunlike oath, and ran to the store house where seasonal supplies and yard machines were kept.

As the Boreas struggled to find a way out, he made the mistake of trying to force the ambulance exit, and it was too small for anything over fifty tons to turn swiftly. That is how Sister Bunny caught him with her Nephillax. Golden Bunny was graven on the cockpit, along with a King of the Mountain medal, and crown for first in a clan to win one. More importantly, a blue Galaxy Eye blazed from the Nephillax and its fierce heterodyne beam punched through the Boreas shields above the spine, and disrupted the shielding on the Boreas Nanotech conduits to feed its great ice guns.

For half a second, absolute zero temperatures washed the sides of the power and plasma conduits running through the torso, then the freeze/heat fractures disrupted the internal buffers and white fire shattered the power distribution system above the right hip, sending the Boreas face first into the ground.

Crawling from the machine, the disturbed pilot, clearly seen in gun camera with blood red ears affixed to his head screamed “Hellbunny, I am Hellbunny, I will purge the heretic!” As he fired into the door frames beside the hospital security staff, scattering them without injuring any.

Sister Bunny drew her Glock 17L from beneath her habit, and let the familiar hum of the smartlink fill her soul, as the cross hairs suddenly filled her eye and tracked with the pistol muzzle. She let a brace of 9mm slugs punch the wall to either side of his head to hurry him along, then walked her rounds down the hall to keep him running.

Finally pulling into the chapel, he shouted he claimed sanctuary, and would shoot anyone who tried to get him out. Sister Bunny kneecapped him with a neat double tap and let him crawl behind the altar for cover. Using that time, she closed and externally bolted the only doors to the chapel.

The Abbess came down to find Sister Bunny thumbing rounds into her magazines and puffing on a long Russian cigarette that stank of bad decisions and worse motives.

“Sister Bunny! I thought you quit smoking?” The Abbess asked horrified

Sister Bunny took a good long drag off her cigarette and smiled a wide disturbing smile to her Abbess,

“I thought I was done shooting people too, but Christ has a sense of humour today. Relax, I will call someone to get him out”

The Abbess winced as Hellbunny screamed and punched five quick rounds into the lock on the chapel door, only to discover the door was ferrite cored and the old fashioned bar holding it shut was as much out of reach as one of the planets four moons.

“You mean a SWAT team, or a commando team?” The Abbess said looking frightened.

Sister Bunny patted her hand “No Abbess, just a priest I used to know”

The Abbess fingered her rosary and looked concerned “I don’t think a priest will do it Sister”

Sister Bunny laughed, and flicked the slide lock chambering a fresh round. “Well, there are priests and then there are priests”

-----Spirit of Bunny compound----

I grabbed my spear and loaded up my Redeemer, shouting at my command company to mount up. We hit the gate and I gave a quick and dirty Sitrep to my crew.

“Alright, we are on a medical retrieval. St Christopher’s gave us a call. One of their brain burned pilots went on a bit of a rampage and shot the place up, stole a Boreas, made a small music critique and then lost a shoot out with a heavily armed nun before locking himself in the chapel” I thought it sounded reasonable enough, but my team had issues.

“A nun? He took out a Boreas and got shot down by a nun?” Antillar Maximus was convent educated himself, and had problems thinking about one of the Sisters of Mercy even having a gun, let alone using it. I had to give him some background.

“Yes well Sister Bunny used to be Lt Stephanie Robbins, scout/sniper team leader of the Defenders of Bunny. There are nuns, and then there are oh-shit-nuns! She is the party of the second part.

I dismounted from my machine and walked over to the downed Boreas. The dead pilot was on a gurney beside it. Sister Bunny was smoking again, which said a lot, and smiling which said that at least she got to shoot someone, so she wasn’t actually stressing out.

“Looking good Sister Bunny. So, what’s the deal on the shooter. This guy kill any of yours besides this guy? Any particular reason you didn’t just cap him?” I was a bit curious. She tended to shoot first, and avoid mentioning it altogether just to save paperwork. I used to really appreciate that when I was her CO.

Sister Bunny grinned at the bearded pilot in front of her, a Thor’s hammer dangling from his dog tags just above his Valknut tatoo marking him most definitely as not Christian. The rune carved spear in his hand filled in the rest of the blanks, like something out of an old Viking story, he was a very different kind of priest. She filled him in with the swiftness of a practiced scout.

“Oh this one is a lunatic alright, but not a mad dog. More of a mad bunny. He calls himself Hellbunny, and he didn’t hit one of the nurses or orderlies during the firefight, and the only one he shot was this pilot right here” She pulled back the sheet, and the pilot, with a chest shot to doll rags lay there dead as a doornail.

“Still seems excessive” I said, and then Sister Bunny pulled the dead pilots T shirt back into position and I laughed. It had been a Nickleback concert T shirt, and 14 very precise bullets had shot the word NO right through Nickleback. Ok, not a dangerous lunatic, just a regular lunatic with serious music taste. That I could live with.

We both laughed as we walked to the chapel. The Abbess looked at me, in my pagan gear and made a terrified squeak. I smiled gently.

“Not to worry Abbess, looting chapels is one of our specialities. We will have him out of there in two shakes of a bunnies tail” I waggled my eyebrows and she beat a hasty retreat.

I thought my smile was gentle, but when Sister Bunny laughed, hers was flat scary, and her Glock rested lightly in her hand.

I heard the pilot raging inside the chapel, swearing to bring blood and fire upon the unrighteous. Yep, full on lunatic, but with style. I had a weakness for those. I slid the bar off the door gently, then gestured to Sister Bunny. She adopted a weaver stance in front of the door, and I booted it open.

Hellbunny stood on one leg, his second tied off in a bloody bandage formed of altar cloth. His pistol snapped down to aim at us, but Sister Bunny fired one clean shot into the hand holding the pistol and it flew from his hand in a welter of blood.

As he stood in shock for one half second, I threw my spear ith a shout of “MINE” and pinned him to the altar like a butterfly on a collector’s board. I followed through my cast and charged up to where he was pinned.

Rabbit ears drooping above his face, his mad eyes stared back at me defiantly. There was no end to the fight in him. Crazy as a bedbug, and dangerous with it. I liked him already.

He snarled defiance at me “You can’t keep me penned up. I will get free. I will find battle again! You cannot stop me!”

I grabbed the spear and yanked it down hard, freeing the head, and tearing his wound, causing him to both shut up, and groan in pain. I looked him in the eyes, madman to madman and grinned.

“Hellbunny, I claim you for the Spirit of Bunny, for the Spirit of Bunny lives in you. Sister Bunny called me, and swore she had one of mine here, and I came to collect. I won’t keep you from battle. I will send you to battle. I will send you against DRAGONS!”

Hellbunny strained against the spear, pulling himself forward. His eyes mad and wild, but suddenly filled with hope.

“Will there be hell and blood?” He asked

“I expect we will be up to our little fluffy tails in hellfire and ass whooping when the dragons arrive. They don’t take cheques, and they don’t give mercy. You want a piece of that fight, you swear to obey your orders, and don’t shoot non combatants, even Nickleback fans” I broke it to him gently.

He looked a little crestfallen about the Nickleback fans, but given the lure of Dragons, he was willing to give up even music criticism for a higher calling.

Thus came Daniel “Hellbunny” Halbany to the Spirit of Bunny.

John T Mainer 28840

[sunkissis]

Bonjour guys,

I’ve had the most formidable (as the French say), chill summer. We hosted many special and dear friends and family that we ended up staying in Paris all summer. I started a new venture called Mon Ami Paree walking tours and this weekend we are hopping on a train for our 17th wedding anniversary. It’s completely bananas to me that I have done anything for as long as seventeen years but I’ve been with lovely Antz for half of my life so I consider myself lucky. I’ve been thinking about how I am getting closer to the midpoint of my life (fifty is creeping on me) and all the things I’ve learned, failed and grown from. Here’s my list of real talk life advice that have shaped me thus far.

Don’t pick at your face. I am so old school in my skin regime that I still use toothpaste on my pimples and I never touch my face. Now that I live in a city without a car, I feel the dirt and sun more than ever. So, everyday I wash my face with Bliss fab foaming 2-in-1 cleanser & exfoliator with bamboo buffers  (I bought a huge bottle before we left LA) and moisturize with my Holy Grail Aveeno Positively Radiant Sheer Daily Moisturizing Lotion. That’s it! I try my best not to frown but I am embracing my laugh-line wrinkles.

Manners first in everyday situations. When I was 11, I spent a summer in Oklahoma with my Grandmother’s sister. My Great-Aunt was super traditionally strict and she basically put me in charm school boot camp that summer. No elbows on the table, ask to be excused from the table and always say Good morning when you greet someone. These are no-brainer rules for Liv, lucky me I rarely have to remind her but it’s such a dying part of our society. Bring a gift the first time you visit someone’s house, hold the door for people struggling, make eye contact when you speak to someone. So many people have a hard time learning names but I always say the person’s name when we meet to remember it. I also write myself notes to remind myself (cute family we met at the park with two kids and live in the 2eme). Please learn a strong handshake. When I meet someone with a weak handshake I want to head bump them so hard. How far will you get in life with that weak grip? I don’t trust weak hand shakers. I often have to catch myself from saying “Bless you” out loud when someone sneezes on the bus because I get such strange looks (I forget, no one speaks English). One of the most charming things I appreciate here in Paris is you must always speak to a shopkeeper or bus driver when you enter. I also love how people offer their seats to elderly or pregnant women without a thought. From my observations, pregnant ladies get treated like princesses here. Remember, politeness goes a long way and shows integrity.

Always bring a umbrella! I have learned the hard way so many times since I moved to this land of unpredictable rain. I have gotten caught in rain and hailstorms without even a jacket. I am so LA that I forget to wear a jacket when I leave the house and the sun is shining bright. Little did I know it can take less than an hour for the weather to take a major turn. We have acquired so many cheap umbrellas because we get caught in the rain. Now we carry a bag every time we go out with two small umbrellas, a pack of wet wipes, portable phone charger and cords, hand sanitizer, our table tennis rackets (almost every park has a table) and a water bottle. These things used to live in the trunk of my car but now I have to schlep everything myself.

Invest in quality lip balm. I used to throw Vaseline on my lips if they were chapped for years in my twenties. Then I got an Anthropologie gift card for my birthday so I bought some fancy Smith Rosebud Salve. I loved the smell of the balm but the container would get bent in my bag and it was too cumbersome and messy to open. So when I found EOS in sweet mint at Target, I was addicted. I literally brought 20 of them to Paris with me because I fear running out. My Mom even sends me more in my care packages because she knows I am obsessed. Find a quality lip balm and never leave home without it in your purse. Trust me, I had to stop at a 24 hour grocery store to buy some lip balm while I was on my way to the hospital when I was in labor with Liv.

My Mommy keeps me stocked with LA necessities.

Don’t buy something with the hope of losing weight to wear it later. I bought a cute baby doll dress from Target thinking, it’s so cute and not expensive, I’ll lose some weight in my arms and be able to wear it in a few months. That dumb dress sat in my closet for five years. Why mentally psyche yourself up for something you can’t enjoy now? I no longer starve myself, or beat myself up about my weight. I am healthy and loved. I walk more now than I ever did and I feel great in my clothes. The apparel industry has come around to accepting that all women aren’t size six, so I feel great about being able to buy clothes that don’t look matronly or feel left out of what the cool girls are wearing. I was even asked to try-on clothes for two brands I adore (my darlings at Ace & Jigand Ban.do)  This 42 year old lady is still as rad as I was at 22!

Never not wearing my favorite Ace & Jig dress

Embrace your quirky self! I used to have an unhealthy relationship with my hair. I have bleached it to death, chemically straightened it for years and mistreated it out of sheer laziness. The straw that broke my hair unhappiness was in January 2017. I was putting a chemical straightener on my hair when I had to take off my Olivia pendant necklace (the chemicals would ruin it)  I somehow lost my necklace that day so I vowed to never use that stupid (and damaging) stuff again. I haven’t put any chemicals or color on my hair since then. I replaced my necklace too. When I want to change my look, I get colorful braids. Now that I live in a more humid climate (my hair literally turns into a mushroom the second I go outside)

I’ve learned to embrace my natural curls. I have an established hair routine that I do once in a while because I’m still lazy but the less I mess with my hair the stronger and healthier it’s been. I bought products I know keep my dry, damaged hair moisturized and leave it alone. I broke my expensive flat iron when I first moved her because of the dumb voltage. I bought a new Euro flat iron but it doesn’t work as well as my old one so I decided, why go through the time and energy trying to make my curly hair straight? Now I throw tons of leave-in conditioner in my hair, or sometimes I wear flexi rods overnight and poof! I’m little orphan Lizzie.

Young Lizzie and Lizzie in her 20s (with extensions)

I’ve retired my signature braids for the summer to give my hair a rest and let it breathe. Braids are a protective hairstyle in the Black hair community but they can also cause breakage if you use the wrong type of hair or have them braided too tight. Plus they are annoyingly hot.

Please for the love of God know the difference between homophones (words that sound the same but are spelled and mean different things!) I am in a Facebook travel group and when I see adult people typing “I waisted a ticket because the whether was bad,” I have a brain meltdown. Listen, I am no grammar snob, I am completely aware my spelling is atrocious (thanks autocorrect for fixing that for me) and I am a serial run-on-sentence writer, but if you aren’t sure (NOT SHORE) which word to use, take a second and Google it. It took me years to grasp the difference between stationary and stationery. I subscribe to Word Genius which emails me a new word a day. I really wish I had a reason to use the word hornswoggle on my blog. Learn new things all the time.

Master your penmanship. I may sound so old-fashioned and prissy in my unsolicited advice but have you ever tried to read a doctor’s prescription? I now live in a country where they write in lovely italic cursive however, I can’t tell an S from an R. Liv has beautiful penmanship, I have always instilled taking pride in your handwriting in her from an early age yet the French education system has taken over and she writes so teeny tiny, I can’t figure it out. I bought her a calligraphy set and she loves to practice writing fancy.

Not everyone is going to like you. Believe it or not this is hard for extroverts like myself to accept. I can be hypersensitive and get anxiety around new people. I am an only child so my friendships are everything to me. I have been told that I am a people person but I really have a small inner circle of only about five or six people who really know the real uncensored me. I’ve had to deal with people flaking on me, people mischaracterizing me and many people doubting me for years. My confidence comes from learning self-trust. I am okay being the loud girl who listens to weird music or dresses like a toddler obsessed with rainbows, that is who I am, not sorry about it. I can’t help but be selfish about my happiness. I try my best to set an example for my (sometimes shy and quiet) daughter because growing up is hard and things like bullying, eating disorders and now the fake Instagram perfection standard makes it even harder. I never had a sibling to give me advice or tell me I look crazy so I’ve made great friends and spent time listening and learning. I now have many sisters (by marriage and my bff) but I wish I knew at 13 that just because someone didn’t like me meant something was wrong with me. As you get older, you stop caring what other people think. What they think doesn’t matter and are inconsequential to your success! 

Proud Pokemon Go Mom. If you play too, let me know so we can be friends!

Fail, ugly cry and then try that shit again until you succeed! OMG, this was a hard lesson for me to learn y’all. I am impatient and when I don’t immediately get my way, I turn into the biggest brat ever. I have gone through every type of disappointment, felt like life was over for me and through all the drama and heartache, always came through better than I started. It’s weird when you are going through something serious, it feels like being stuck in quicksand. I now know that the harder something is for me to achieve, the more it’s worth it. I also know that anything worth doing requires sacrifice and commitment. You may sacrifice sleep, spending money, eating desserts but will it be worth the sacrifice in the end? Ask yourself this when going into a new venture. I have learned in the past twenty two years that my internal stress and anxiety is a complete overreaction. I know deep down things will work out because it always seems impossible until it’s done. The word is literally I’M POSSIBLE!!

Have a lovely rest of the summer. I am still working on last summer’s travel posts, it’s taking forever because my laptop memory is full so for every photo I upload I have to throw away three. It’s moving slow but it’s possible.

Bisous

My mid-life check in Bonjour guys, I've had the most formidable (as the French say), chill summer. We hosted many special and dear friends and family that we ended up staying in Paris all summer.