#i should be working on lucky break but alas

[rollinouttahere-writes]

I'm bad at being on hiatus apparently. Here's some shamelessly self indulgent Sanji fluff.

A Father's Joy

Sanji x Fem Reader

2.5k words

Warnings for brief, nondescript mentions of pregnancy and childbirth

You love Sanji. Perhaps too much. Despite only knowing him for a little over a month by the time you had to part ways to become stronger, you fell for him hard and fast. It was a whirlwind romance, but it just felt right. Everything about him was endearing to you, so the relationship progressed faster than it normally would. You were a pirate now. Why should you abide by normal dating conventions? If it felt right and both of you were happy about it, then why not indulge? 

Less than a month into your training, you realized that you perhaps over indulged. You were pregnant. There was only one man that could be the father, and he was on an entirely different island. And you won’t see him again for almost two years.

Having to deal with a surprise pregnancy was difficult at the best of times. Coping with it while training to become stronger and trying to figure out what to do about Sanji was a nightmare. You wanted to tell him. He had every right to know… but should he?

Would it really be fair to make him aware of a baby that he won’t even be able to see, much less hold? It felt horrible to keep him in the dark, but the idea of telling him now in a letter felt even worse. He wasn’t going to be able to be with the child either way… so you chose to let him live in blissful ignorance until the reunion. You could only hope he would understand your reasoning and not feel too betrayed.

The only thing you were concerned about was how he would take learning that he missed out on over a year of his baby’s life. You knew without a doubt that he would love his daughter and that he wasn’t the type to question paternity. Not that he could even if he wanted to. Abigail was the spitting image of her father, right down to the slightly curled eyebrows. They weren’t quite as pronounced as his, but the slight curl was unmistakable.

As scary as it was to find out you were having her, you loved Abigail more than anything. She might have hindered your training, but you more than made up for it after you recovered from her birth. The second you were able to look upon her, you knew you would fight anyone and everyone to keep her safe and happy, and that definitely came out in your training.

Abigail was sixteen months old, and you’ve spent those months obsessively taking pictures of her every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment. You’d also been showing her a picture of you and Sanji together and teaching her to say ‘dada’ every time she saw his face. You’re pretty sure Sanji will die of a broken heart if he doesn’t get called that upon their first meeting. Hopefully he doesn’t look too different after these two years.

By the time the two years had ended and it was time to reunite, you were feeling much more confident in your strengths and capability as a fellow Straw Hat. Though you couldn’t help but feel nervous about how Sanji will take the news. He was going to be devastated to have missed so much of the beginning of his daughter’s life, that much was inevitable. More than ever, you were questioning your decision to keep her a secret.

Running into Nami on the way back helped alleviate your worries. She had actually agreed with what you did, saying that he would have spent the past two years sulking if he did know. She’d also been all over Abigail, cooing over how cute she was and immediately asserting herself as her godmother. You had no objection to her self-appointed status, and you know Sanji certainly won’t have a problem with it. Knowing him, he’ll forgo the godfather position and instead have Robin be a second godmother.

Seeing the Thousand Sunny again was extremely heartwarming, especially when you saw your crewmates. It was a joyful reunion, and everyone else had had equally positive reactions to Abigail. Franky immediately got to work on building a crib and other baby furniture for her and even made some comments about fitting in a nursery on the ship for her. Usopp was thrilled to have a new captive audience for his storytelling, especially since she was too young to question (or even understand) the validity of anything he was saying. Chopper and Brook were awed and excited at her presence, with Chopper swearing up and down that he was going to be the best doctor ever for her. Brook, on the other hand, played music to help calm her down after she started crying when she saw him. It did work, but Abigail was distinctly still wary of the giant talking skeleton. Robin was her usual, subdued self, but she was clearly happy to see her, commenting on how happy Sanji is going to be when he gets here.

If only that would happen already. Of course, he was one of the people that wasn’t there yet. Luffy and Zoro weren’t there either. Part of you was happy to have more time before the reveal, but the other side of you wanted to finally get this weight off your chest.

You guys had finally gotten word of where the missing three were, and Chopper had been sent out to fetch them. Abigail was currently napping in your shared room in the crib that Franky had built in record time. Everyone had agreed to make sure that you and Sanji would have ample alone time for you to introduce him to his daughter. The moment of truth was close, and your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest.

Finally, you saw them approaching. Luffy called out to everyone, and for a moment, all of your fears were forgotten. All you could think about was how amazing it was for all of you to be together again.

Then you saw him. Sanji was seated next to Luffy on the bird Chopper had used to pick them up. The second you made eye contact with him, he stared at you in awe. A wide grin broke out across his face, and the next thing you knew, he was leaping off the bird.

Before you could yell at him that he was nowhere near the boat yet, he surprised you by running across the air. Huh. That was new. You didn’t have much time to dwell on the new ability before Sanji closed the distance and all but tackled you.

The familiar scent of Sanji’s cologne mingled with tobacco flooded your senses, and you had to choke back happy tears as you could finally feel him again. His arms were locked around your middle as he lifted you into the air and spun you around.

“(Y/N)-swan! My love! My everything!” Sanji dropped you down just enough to start aggressively kissing all over your face. More scruff than you were used to scratched at your cheeks, but it was nice.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the loving assault. “So I take it you missed me a little?”

“A little?! Do you have any idea what it was like for me to be away from you for so long? It was awful! I thought I wasn’t going to make it!” Sanji held you tight again, rubbing the side of his head against your own. Your heart panged. If he struggled just with being away from you, maybe it was good that you kept Abigail a secret.

“I’m sure you two have lots of catching up to do. You should go somewhere private.” Nami strolled over to where you two were, smiling widely. You could practically feel the excitement coming off of her. Sanji perked up from her appearance and immediately started fawning over her. This didn’t last long because Nami slapped the back of his head and firmly told him to go with you. You wanted to laugh at her less than subtle method for making sure you got some alone time, but your nerves about what was just about to happen kept that at bay.

Hooking Sanji’s arm with yours, you guide him to the sleeping quarters you share with Nami and Robin. Sanji was entirely unbothered from Nami slapping his head and was back to cuddling up to you while you walked.

“You look even more stunning than I remembered, my love,” his voice purred in your ear. Despite everything, you felt your face getting hot. You shook your head. Now was not the time for any of that! That damn voice of his was what got you into your current predicament, and you couldn’t go falling into it carelessly again. Abigail did not need a sibling this soon.

Once you reach the door, you stop Sanji and turn to face him, “I need you to close your eyes and keep them closed until I say so.”

Sanji grinned and closed his eyes without hesitation. You open the door and quickly usher him inside before locking the door behind you. You could see Sanji perk up from the sound, no doubt making some wildly incorrect assumptions about what was about to go down. You guide Sanji over to your bed and have him sit down, knowing that it will probably be best if he’s sitting for this reveal.

He’s practically buzzing with giddiness, and you feel a little bad for the emotional whiplash that you’re about to put him through. Gripping his shoulders firmly, you speak again, “I’ll be right back. Keep your eyes closed.”

“Of course, (Y/N)-swan!” 

You step back, watching his face for any indication that he might peek, but you saw none. He had always been pretty obedient, so you suppose you didn’t really need to worry about that. You turn around and walk over to where the crib was placed. Abigail was rubbing at her eyes, appearing to just now be waking up. You had her wearing a sky blue dress with a matching ribbon that was holding together her tuft of blonde hair at the top of her head.

Carefully, you scoop her into your arms, bouncing her slightly. This was it. It was time for her to finally see more than just a picture of her dad.

The distance between her crib and your bed felt much longer on the way back. Your heart pounded with each step. Abigail stared at Sanji curiously as you got closer to him, and you prayed that the new facial hair wasn’t going to be enough to make him unrecognizable to her.

When you’re just a few steps away from him, you stop. Swallowing thickly, you rip the bandaid off. “You can open your eyes now.”

Not even a beat passes before Sanji eagerly opens his eyes with a grin on his face. Then his eyes zero in on Abigail, and it’s gone. He stares at her with wide eyes for what feels like an eternity. You don’t push him, knowing that he needs to take this in at his own pace. You can practically hear the gears in his head turning as he stares intently at his daughter’s face.

Suddenly, Abigail holds out her arms to Sanji while making grabby hands at him, saying precisely what you had hoped she would say. “Dada.”

Just like that, Sanji is snapped out of his daze and lurches forward to take her into his own arms. He stands there, tightly clutching the toddler to his chest. He looks at you with tears starting to drip down his face. He speaks with a choked voice, “Dada?”

The question is more than clear to you. “Yes… that’s your daughter.” You step closer and lightly rub his shoulder. “Her name is Abigail.”

Sanji sniffled loudly and pulled her back just enough to be able to look at her face again. She looked up at him with a confused expression, not understanding why he was crying. She reached up and patted his face with her pudgy hands while repeating the word ‘dada’ over and over again.

This only made him cry more. He switched to holding her with one arm so he could wipe at his face. Sanji cleared his throat and looked at her again, “Hi, Abigail. I’m your dada.” Despite his onslaught of tears, he was smiling widely.

He hugged her close, then looked back at you, “How old is she?”

You were certain that hearing the number would hit him hard, but he needed to know. “A year and four months.” 

The waterworks started anew. “I missed a year and four months of my baby’s life?” 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, there was nothing you could do. I know it’s not the same as being there, but I took lots of pictures.” You already had two photo albums of Abigail. Sanji didn’t respond, so you continued, “I’m sorry that this is how you’re finding out… I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but I wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. I knew that you wouldn’t be able to see her until the two years were over, so I thought it would hurt less for you not to know. I’m sorry that I kept this from you, and I’ll understand if you’re angry with me for it.”

Getting all of that off your chest was relieving, but also uncomfortable. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye while saying that, instead choosing to stare down at your feet.

Before you could dwell on it for too long, Sanji brings you into a crushing embrace with Abigail squished between you. He only pulled away when Abigail started to squirm and whine. When he stepped back, his eye was staring so deeply into yours that you felt like he could see into your very soul. He spoke in such a soft and loving tone that it made you want to cry. “I could never be angry with you. Especially not for this. I should be the one apologizing. You had to go through all of that alone. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most.” 

Blinking back tears, you speak softly, “Don’t apologize. You didn’t know. I’m not holding it against you, so you better not hold it against yourself.” You hug his side so as to not squish Abigail again. You and Sanji share a quiet moment while watching her play with his tie, not a care in the world. Your eyes flit to Sanji’s face, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst from how adoring his expression is. A warm smile spreads across your face, and you rest your head against his shoulder, “She looks a lot like you, doesn’t she?”

“She looks just like my mom.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t recall Sanji ever mentioning his mother before. Or any of his family, really. Based off the soft, nostalgic look on his face, you can only assume that his mother must have been a wonderful person. You want to pry, but now doesn’t feel like a good time. You’ll ask about her later.

For now, you just want to focus on Sanji and catching him up on everything he’s missed.

[muffinsin]

Hiya, I'm new to the blog but I've loved everything I've read so far! I was wondering if I could request the Dimitrescu daughters (separately) getting saved by a maiden that they thought hated them? Like, maybe a hunter breaks in + smashes a window and the maiden literally carries (or drags) the daughter to safety and refuses to leave their side until they've warmed up.

Maybe the maiden never actually hated the daughters (like a miscommunication/the maiden having a difficult to read expression), or maybe they stopped hating the Dimitrescus a while ago but nobody noticed? Idk, it's up to you, I just think you'd have a fun take on it :3

I went through the anon lists and hopefully I didn't miss any, so if possible can I be sleepy anon? Please and thank you, and have a great day/week!

Hi :)! I’m happy to hear ya like my works :)🙌 Honestly what a cute prompt!

Let’s get into it :) anon name is all yours🙌

Masterlists

Bela

Bela is, a mystery to you

To her, you seem like an enemy. A staff member, yet with a deep hatred towards her

Perhaps, if you weren’t so pretty and cute, perhaps if she didn’t like you in some strange way she is too proud to voice, you would’ve ended up in the basement already

Alas, Bela keeps you safe and only puts you in your place when your work isn’t done properly. She thinks you should consider yourself, lucky

To you, she seems like an uptight boss bent on punishing you for every little mistake

You wonder, what have you done for her to be this obsessed?

She notices every little mistake you make

A true perfectionist, you realize soon enough, and it bothers you to no end

But, unlike her interpretation of you, you don’t hate her. You don’t even really dislike her

She’s just..uptight, a little bitchy, yes. But she’s smart, you’ve come to notice, and quite obviously she is breathtakingly beautiful

Perhaps, if both of your false views and interpretations of one another were out the way, you’d have talked sooner

You would have liked to start a conversation with the supposedly dangerously intelligent and cold eldest daughter of Alcina Dimitrescu

Bela, on the other hand, would have liked getting to know you sooner

Still, she only ever sees false hatred in your eyes that is truly mere curiosity

She has never been all that good at reading people’s emotions

Their intentions? Yes, their facial features? Yes. But still, her books cannot teach her to fully understand humans, people, it seems

It’s a fatal misunderstanding on both your parts, one that this day will clear up, it seems

The day, while not being an ordinary one at all, is not all that unusual to Bela. An uprising, again, though somewhat cute in numbers

Four maidens. Bold, or perhaps only desperate enough, to dare fight back

It’s a pointless fight, a squabble she doesn’t even bother notifying her sisters about

Even with the many knives and utensils scattered around them in the kitchen, the fight seems pointless

That is, until Bela easily dodges a pot that smashes into the fragile window behind her

Immediately, she screams in pain at the cold air rushing in

The three remaining troublemakers spot their opportunity instantly, so it takes less than seconds for the other kitchen windows to be shattered

Bela grits her teeth, one arm wrapped around her protectively, her other hand clutching her sickle

She refuses to tell her sisters. Refuses to allow Mother to hear of this. She can do this! She can’t cause her family trouble. Cassandra would have never let this go on. Daniela would have killed them in seconds. Bela should have never let it come this far, should have prevented the window from breaking..

Throwing herself back into her battle, she strikes one down, but pays the bitter price when two steak knives are sliced and thrust into her thighs

Immediately, she falls, her blood gushing, her limbs aching and as if on fire. The cold immediately finds the large gashes and digs through. The blades of the knives seem icy cold like the terrain outside

She manages to knock one down with her, but as the back of her hooded head hits the windowsill, her vision begins to blur

One more

She tries to call out for Cassandra, hoping, pleading, Mother will hear nothing of this

To her surprise and horror, she finds she can’t reach her sister, too far away for her weakened swarm to detect

She grasps for her weapon, but can’t detect it. Was it lost when she fell? She can’t remember, but tastes her own, foul blood in her mouth

With difficulty, she sees the maiden’s lips moving. She can’t make out what she’s saying, but her expression enough is sufficient to allow her to assume it must be some kind of insult

Pride, cockiness, a human’s downfall

She watches as, seemingly out of nowhere, you stand behind her, bringing Bela’s abandoned sickle down at her neck

It’s messy, and rough, but enough for the woman to drop her weapon and scream. Enough to fall to her knees and enough for Bela to finish her off

Golden, unfocused eyes meet yours. She looks unsure. Worried. Confused. Cold. Hurt. Scared

Never did you think Bela Dimitrescu would feel such things. Never did you think you would truly see a glimpse of humanity in her

But, you have…

You have seen her eyes squint when she laughs with her sisters, seen the faintest hint of a blush and happiness hidden beneath pride when being praised by her mother. You have seen her playful annoyance aimed at her youngest sister

When you close in on her, her first instinct is to lean in. Then, nearly within that same moment, she snarls and pushes herself harder against the cold wall

You hate her. She has no reason to believe you are not part of this attack, or at the very least are now that her weakness is so pathetically displayed

But you don’t approach predatorily

With your hands raised, you gently move closer to her

She watches you closely, her golden eyes watchful even as her body trembles

Slowly, you unwrap the sleeping robe from around you. Is it this late already? Bela hadn’t noticed

The material is thin, but the action shows your intentions nonetheless, and so she allows you to lean into her personal space

A small, quiet gasp passes her lips when you pick her up. Automatically, she sets her hands on your shoulders and wraps the robe tighter around herself

With her vision blurry and the foul taste in her mouth, her bloodied, non functioning legs and aching arms, she doesn’t protest when you keep holding her up and close to you

Your warmth is…comforting

Bela winces a little. She doesn’t want to look up at you, doesn’t want to ruin this perfect moment

After all, when she does look up, what will she see? Hatred? Annoyance? Cockiness?

You pass the fireplace, walk up the stairs

She clings tighter to you, but there are no others in the hallway

All staff members know better than to leave their rooms at nighttime, and even more so in winter, when it is known the residents of castle Dimitrescu are more on edge and easier to irritate

After a little while she notices where you’re taking her- her own room, her safe harbour

She extends an aching arm and closes her fingers around the door knob, helping you open the way inside

She wonders; have you ever been in here? What do you think?

Despite her annoyance, Bela manages to bite down a curse when her cheeks heat up a little

Secretly, perhaps, she wants you to like her room

And like it you do

Bela is every bit the perfectionist you knew she is

But, there is beauty in this

Her shelves are organized neatly. The books placed in them tell you the woman in your arms is fond of just about everything

Information and documentaries of a vast range of topics can be found, from hobbies to animals, to biomes, to sciences

Her bed is made and her nightstand is nearly empty, save for the storybook placed on it

It isn’t opened and sports no mark or so

You assume she hasn’t touched it in a while, but somehow, you correctly guess that it’s meant for the few times her sisters sneak into her room and the story calms their anxious minds

When Bela looks up at you eventually, she gasps quietly at the softness found in your eyes

She stays quiet as you set her down on the bed, doesn’t even wince when you brush aside her hair to have a look at the nasty cut on her head

With the heat of the room, the wounds begin healing slowly

And still, you fuss over her

She hopes you don’t take notice of her dusty pink cheeks and wide eyes when you press your sleeve to her forehead

Your subtle smile tells her differently

Cassandra

She hates you, you’re sure of it

And you hate her, she’s sure

After all, why else would she dump dead, stinking deer in front of your room every single morning?!

Why else would she do this to you and no one else!

Why is she tormenting you? What have you done to her!

After all, why else would you dispose of her beautiful gifts every single morning?

You must hate her!

She feels stupid for gifting you her finest meat every day, but can’t stop, either

Perhaps she can yet woo you, after all

But you dump it off to the kitchens every time! Not even back to her! The kitchens! For common staff!

You must hate her…!

When you pass her in the halls, you do your best to avoid eye contact. Were you looking at her, you would notice her doing the exact same thing

Despite her hatred for you, you are curious about her

She’s beautiful, there’s no question there

With chocolate-coal-brown hair that easily falls down at her shoulders, sometimes curled, at other times straightened, her golden eyes you only sometimes dare gaze upon

She has one lazy eye, and you find it’s the cutest thing in the world. Her features are stunning and you regularly fight yourself to avoid staring at her

At night, at times, you can’t help but wonder what this beauty of a woman would be like curled against you

Her pale, snow-white skin pressed against yours, her face tucked away by your neck, your arms tight around her

Sometimes, you bitterly remind yourself; she would strike. Bite down at your jugular with all her might and drain the life from you

But, perhaps even happily so, you would allow her to

Despite her hatred of you, she has you wrapped around her finger

Despite your hatred of her, you have her wrapped around your finger

A raid at the castle marks the time both your lives are about to change

Raids are, by all means, hardly unusual

While they aren’t everyday happenings, all residents and staff of the castle, even the villagers, know of the foolish men and sometimes women attempting to break into the castle every few weeks or months or so

None are successful, but it seems this never dampens their spirit

But, there is protocol

And so you find yourself hiding in the only room closest to you at the beginning of the raid: the armory

The very armory occupied by Cassandra Dimitrescu

You know protocol, you know to hide in the nearest room, lock it even, and wait it out. Protocol never mentions the case being in which a Dimitrescu sister is near

You hold your breath, but it’s no use. She notices you immediately, and given the current raid at the castle you ought to be happy she doesn’t automatically strike you down

Instead, she holds your gaze for a moment. Your eyes meet a dark gold, more beautiful than anything you have ever seen before

You don’t notice you’re holding your breath until she stretches her arm out, her gloved fingertips pointing towards the back of the room

You understand instantly. A hiding spot, as instructed. Of course

Even as you slide between and behind the large barrels, hide behind the suits of armor standing at the back, you can’t help but keep your eyes lingering on her

Her back is smooth, her hips surprisingly slim

She looks regal, yet lethal in the way her fingers twitch and she grasps the weapon tighter every few seconds

Soon after you’ve slipped into your hiding place and Cassandra started sharpening her weapon- you briefly wonder why it is she stays with you, rather than throw herself into the sure fight happening somewhere in the castle- when you begin hearing shouts ahead

Then, you see them, two men, as they burst into the armory

They’re broad shouldered and sport brown hair and a brown, stubby beard. Thick noses and burst lips adorn their faces. They’re twins, and judged by their clothing, hunters stemming from the village

You hold your breath and shrink against the suits of armor and barrels surrounding you

They sneer at Cassandra, their weapons- two machetes, one each, drawn. They’re wholly focused on her

If they’ve seen you, they pay you no mind at all

Cassandra doesn’t wait for one of them to attack. Instead, you watch as she throws herself into battle

Swarming halfway and masterfully avoiding all incoming attacks from the two intruders, she catches one’s neck with the end of her sickle and reaps chunks of the other man’s clothing and skin from his ribs

You watch as blood forms and drops fast. The man splutters uselessly, stumbling back while the other, though injured, tries to fight back

It becomes clear to you now, why Cassandra is known as the best huntress at castle Dimitrescu

Despite her impressive display, your eyes press shut when the injured man stumbles in your direction

Again, he doesn’t seem to take notice of you, and yet you don’t dare move

Then, a loud bang forces your eyes open and a scream from your lungs

But you are not the only one screaming, and so you are lucky enough to be unnoticed again, for…

Cassandra’s scream was the one outweighing yours, you realise

The woman screams and shakes, her hood torn off to reveal teary eyes and her beautiful, pale skin breaking off slightly

Behind her, you notice the crack in the wall now a large gap. It must have been caused by the explosion you’ve heard

She’s still fighting strong, having finished the already weakened man bleeding out near you

Still, you grit your teeth and watch with wide eyes as the machete of the other connects with her arm. At first, she howls in pain, the noise so desperate and pure you almost cry

Then, the limb falls. You watch as it falls from her and breaks off into what must be hundreds of little flies that curl in on themself as the cold wind touches them

You grit your teeth when the woman stumbles backwards, her back dangerously close to the large gap in the wall. If she was to fall…

The man seems to have the same idea, pushing and swinging his machete around like a madman trying to make her back up into the gap

You decide you can’t bear to stand idle while her fate may be sealed

Slithering from behind the armor and barrels, you yank the other machete from the dead man’s tight grip

In a smooth, albeit difficult swing, the sharp blade meant for monsters connects with the man’s exposed neck, just where Cassandra struck him before

His head tips to the side as he collapses, and you drop the weapon immediately

Cassandra groans and growls madly as you near yourself and push her weak arm wielding the sickle aside

She reminds you a little of an animal with rabies, the way she shakes and growls, and you hope you don’t pay the bitter price for your care

Still, you wrap your arm around her slim hips and pull her towards you, wary of the large piece of broken off wall behind her

She doesn’t fight you, merely keeps on growling and- crying? You can’t be too sure. You didn’t take her for one to cry, but then again, you wince when you nearly step on what used to be her arm

Carefully, you scoop the unmoving flies from the floor and into your pocket

The woman is clearly out of it, her lips parted and sharp, fang-like teeth on display as she snarls and growls over and over again, her screams quiet, but almost banshee like in their shrill tone

You wonder; is she trying to reach her sisters with it? If she is, it’s entirely too quiet and weak of a scream, you decide

You take another gamble and hook your free hand under her legs, promptly lifting the woman into your arms

Again, she snarls and shakes, but makes no move to attack you

That is, if you don’t count her sharp, bloodied nails of her remaining hand digging into your shoulder

And still, you can’t bring yourself to believe this is meant to be an attack

You carry her out the library and the only place you know to be warm; the kitchens near the grand dining room

Cassandra relaxes significantly as you move her to the room, the warm fires and steam warming her sore body

Still, you don’t dare let go of her

When you hold your breath, you realise; she’s almost..purring? That can’t be right

The next thing you realise are the flies, previously unmoving, buzzing in your pocket

You set the woman down on a clear part of the table and retrieve one of them, smiling as it buzzes in your hand

You place a gentle kiss to it, not unaware of the small gasp coming from Cassandra, and release it. Immediately, it returns to the stump where her arm used to be

You repeat the process, kissing flies as they return to her

Cassandra’s thankful for the cold still in her body, for it’s at the very least suppressing her growing blush

You feel her lean against you and cant help but wonder;

Perhaps, she doesn’t hate you

Maybe, you don’t hate her

Daniela

Daniela is almost 100% sure you hate her

You never react to her sly smirks, her cute giggles, the sweet hand resting on your shoulder!

She has tried flirting with you for ages, and nothing!

You’re never rude to her, actually- you’re very kind to her!

You always bring her a flower when your work in the gardens is done

You always braid her hair for her and brush it out after

You make sure her room is clean and her bath is full of bubbles and delicious scents

You always smile when you see her

So why haven’t you kissed her yet!

She doesn’t understand

She’s thrown you so many signs! All she could. But you haven’t acted on a single one

She thinks, you must hate her

And you?

You’re a little…clueless

You like her, so very much

You lie awake at night, your mind occupied by the beautiful, auburn haired woman that regularly visits your dreams and thoughts alike

Sometimes, you dare dream

Could she be yours?

Could you make her happy?

Could she want you?

But is she not with others? So many stare when she passes, you hear the hushed voices either insulting, or praising her

She’s a goddess residing in this castle; what chance have you got?

You try to be close to her, yet never too close

You don’t want to disrespect her, never

You care far too much about her for such a thing

Then, one day, there is an attack

Lycans, they say, a stray pack headed from the village and led by their prey directly to the castle

Of course, the staff is immediately brought and locked away for safety

You are less lucky, having insisted the day prior you’d like to clean out the library

After all, this is where Daniela is known to spend her days…

Now, separated from the other staff members, you have little choice but to stay put

You try your best not to glance at Daniela, who stands with her sickle held tightly. She too heard the alarms, it seems

You grip the fire poker, your eyes still trained on the floor

You wonder; if you looked at her, could you ever advert your eyes again?

It seems, there is little to no time for you to dwell on this thought, for a loud bang and a snarl is all you hear when the door to the library is ripped from its hinges and a furry snout peaks through

Before you have time to react, Daniela grips the lycan already

You watch as she works, no, plays with the wild animal

She spins it and giggles, grips and yanks, breaks and slices

The beast only snarls at her, yet can’t even hope to land even a single claw on her

All goes well, you don’t even think you need to make use of your improvised weapon

Even the snarls and screams from the outside dull. They’re retreating, it seems

Then, however, a gasp is ripped from you when the beast pushes against you. Whether it did it on purpose or was knocked against you, you can’t tell, but you do realise one thing; you’re falling

Hoping to catch yourself, you reach out to grab all within reach

Only, unfortunately, is that a lever

In the next second you feel icy cold wind come down at you and hear the piercing scream of the auburn haired woman next to you

Your hand stretches out, your lips parting as you scream a warning that comes too late

She’s knocked back by the force of the lycan’s gigantic paw swiping at her, thick claws dragging through her dress and soft, pale skin

You feel ill as blood pools at her stomach and the sickle falls from her

She kicks the animal away, yet it looks, and sounds, as though each move only pains her so much more

You realise your own mistake fast and quickly work on shutting the windows again, her scream and your own blood pumping loudly urging you to work faster, faster, faster

When you look to the side, she’s barely sitting up, her bloodied hands and arms desperately shielding herself against the creature

You don’t think, can’t think, won’t take the time to think now

With the fire poker gripped tightly in your hand, you charge

You scream, and it’s met with a pained howl

Thankfully, Daniela must have injured the creature enough for a simple, powerful strike to its heart to finish it off

And still, you feel your uniform slip from you and the nasty, aching pain of the large slashes made at your back

You grit your teeth, ignoring the mark the creature has left on you even as its foulness enters your body

You turn Daniela to find her bloodied and shivering, her flies dropping, her skin seemingly switching between breaking and healing itself

Again, you don’t dare waste time

She watches you through a blurry haze as you wrap your arms around her. She almost tastes your scent

It takes everything not to taste you

She feels her wounds, the pain she has almost forgotten all about. What is pain? This is a nasty reminder

Next she’s lifted to you, her fingertips and face nuzzling your warm skin

You feel her move to you, as close as she could, and all but grant her this

You know now what happened, what you have caused her

And you’re set to fix it. You won’t allow a stupid mistake, an accident, to be it for her

Daniela shivers still as you pick her off the floor and rush through the halls

Yet, all she feels is you. Your warmth. Your heartbeat, loud and close against her ear. She loves every moment of it

She isn’t sure where you bring her at first, until she finds herself set on her bed

When did she get here? She can’t tell. Black dots appear in her vision and her stomach feels slick with blood even as it starts closing up again

You gently cup her cheek, your eyes, so beautiful and worried, checking her over

You notice the little cuts on her face heal and shut nearly instantly, whereas bruises caused by the cold wind stay stubbornly in place

Perhaps, if the cold hurts the woman, the heat could help her, you figure

Daniela whines when you move from her and for a moment you feel your cheeks heat up. Her fingers entangled with yours, her golden eyes wide and hopeful

She doesn’t want you to go. Not now. Even if you hate her

And really?

Neither do you

You only wish to hold her close, to protect the precious creature held so close to you

You wish to cup her face and stroke the soft fingers holding onto yours so sweetly

You want nothing but to nurse her back to health, to know her, really know her

To be here

To make her yours

You watch, the truth laid bare in her eyes. No flirty smiles you don’t understand, no hidden meanings behind words you can’t understand

Her feelings, exposed and shown to you in her bright, golden eyes

You lean down as gentle as you can, and even more so, you press your lips to the flower tattoo adorning her forehead

“I’ll draw you a bath, it will warm you up”, you whisper. Then, you promise:

“I’ll return, iubita mea”

[samwhump]

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well. 

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

[swmmi-kti]

Mates Pt 2

DNI/BYF

cw: none so far.

part: 1 part: 3

synopsis: hey you meet your love, yeah he kinda tried to kill yoU BUT HE DIDN'T

You wonder, day dream over and over, over the past meeting.

How wonderful those arms felt around you. How he runs cold compared to you So lovely so wonderful you believe and it leaves you wanting so much more.

You do your usual routine, hoping to find him but alas somethings dont happen how we want.

Regardless you take the same path as always. Look around and if you don't see him then it is for another day.

Lucky enough nature has made a good foreging today, smiling at your basket as you set a steady pace back home.

Bur only enough, you heard loud flapping above you. However you take no notice as you walk until the shadow comes to view.

Smiling brightly you turn around "your back!" You say excited. Feeling his body weight push you down knocking the basket down.

"Hi~" he says a bit to eager. You can't read the Kanji engraved into his irises. How they shine like the brightest sets of stars, "upper four", how peculiar.

"So nice of you to come by again. I've been meaning to thank you" you laugh as you grab your basket.

"So a birdie tells me, though I'll say whats a good looking human such as yourself waiting for a demon like myself"

You laugh as you wave him to follow you. "Oh trust Me I don't care about that. You saved my life from a very horrible death. I have to thank you somehow"

He lets out a sharp almost bird like chirp of a laugh as he flaps behind you. You thought about making a nice supper and thought what may be a nice way to say a simple thanks.

"And how?"

"I thought a nice dinner would be enough. I don't know what else would be good but isn't that nice?"

You hum delighted not noticing his expression die. He can't seem to break the news that he can't eat food, though you'd make a pretty good meal

Following you seems to be a good view. He smirks inwardly to himself. as he sees your older run down place. Struggling to get in your home given his larger wings.

Regardless it's a nice comfort. Usually he didn't like to play with his food...However could he even call you that? Perhaps still prey.

But watching you work feels and looks very nice. Regardless He sits back and takes in the environment around him. Its Cozy for the most part. It feels almost...so hauntingly familiar.

Life was filled with moments like this, he often wonders how he got this way, Why was he this.

"uhm..."

He snaps out of it at an instant as he changes to a growing smirk.

"yes?...im sorry i spaced out" Dear lord, did he just apologize?

"i was just about to ask would you like a big plate?" you say with a smile waving off the somber yet serious expression he dawned.

He chuckled that same screech almost like a hawk, as he looked your way "no..actually I'm alright i don- can't eat" he admits watching your face fall a little.

"oh. im sorry . i had no idea"

"It's alright You wouldn't have known demons can't eat food" He says awaiting a reaction but there is none to come.

"i still feel bad....er" You mutter realizing you dont even know his name.

As gently as he can his hand grazes over your jawline. the claws of his nick you but not terribly so that you bleed. "Urogi"

You smile a little bit because it feels so awkward as you shy away just the tiniest bit "Urogi"

You cant help but the tiniest smile at his name. Its short and sweet and sounds just about right as well. "Urogi is a nice name"

He Lets out a laugh not his usual cocky or mocking laugh. Its genuine and filled with nerves. He feels like he's not who he should be but be someone you should want.

It's a conflicting feeling for sure. And he sits with you tonight wondering how such a human could hold the entire night sky in their eyes.

.

.

.

What was wrong with him? now he's far away with the single thought of you. ignoring the new meal himself and his clones hunted....how pathetic indeed.

And he can see and feel Sekido's gaze on the back of his neck. His feathers slightly ruffled....humans seem so unappetizing to him now...

[lesbxdyke]

Sometimes I really hate the way people act when people want to express a difficulty when they have a privilege.

I am white. I make no secret of this.

I am also autistic. I also make no secret of this.

I once posted in an autistic group on FB about how, I live in a small UK town with a very small POC population, and how I rarely go outside, so I pick up most of my new vocabulary from online memes, so when it comes out that that vocabulary is AAVE and Black People are asking White People not to say it, I have a bit of a tough time because my communication is built on scripts and patterns and once something has become an accepted part of my script, removing it is a hard thing.

I made it clear that I DO stop. That I put the work in to break those scripts and stop doing something that I've been asked to stop doing because it's harmful, I made no excuses, and made it clear that I wasn't looking for people to say "Oh it's okay, you can because you're autistic!" Or mollify me.

I just wanted a space with other people that might understand the struggle I was having to vent and release because it IS a difficult task for me.

And again, I repeated at least 3 times in the post that I wasn't looking for absolution, praise for trying, or permission to say things that I have no right to say.

(I would also like to note that this was ALL about slang (ala 'on fleek') and not at all about Slurs. I am very lucky that I have never picked up slurs in my speech, I've just picked up a lot of slang that was not immediately 'advertised' as AAVE online)

The FIRST COMMENT was from a moderator, saying 'While it's hard for you, remember it's harder for POC who have to moderate what they say all the time and don't have the privilege of having time to learn.'

And just like that, I felt shamed. I felt ashamed for struggling with this thing, despite approaching this group MADE FOR AUTISTIC PEOPLE to get off my chest that I struggle with something that NT people would shame me for.

I felt ashamed for struggling with something because of my disability, because "Other people have it harder."

And I still feel ashamed. Every time I pick up a new piece of slang, there's this intense grip of panic and shame, because what if it's not FOR me to use? And if it comes out it's not in a few weeks/months, I don't get to complain that I'm struggling because other people have it harder, I'm privileged so I should just suck it up and ignore that my disability is making my life difficult.

I would never DREAM of seeing a fellow disabled person complaining about how difficult they were finding a waiting list for something they required and bring up that it's more difficult for Trans people because in the UK our waiting list is 5+ years minimum for a first appointment and another 1 year minimum after that first appointment to get any sort of treatment. Because that's not what the conversation is about, and all it will do is make them feel shit about struggling with their waiting list.

The oppression Olympics "Well this group has it worse!" When someone is expressing a struggle/disappointment IS NOT HELPFUL!

Shaming people because "Well this group has it worse!" IS NOT HELPFUL!

Unless someone is claiming that they are the group that has it the absolute worst, there is NO NEED TO SAY THAT YOUR GROUP HAS IT WORSE ON A VENT POST!

Everyone, E V E R Y O N E, from a skinny CisHet NT abled white man to the most underprivileged person you can possibly think of has things they struggle with and as long as they're doing it in the right forum (their blog, a vent room in a discord server, a group for people with their disability to discuss the way it makes their life difficult, their Twitter, their private diary), they should be met with support and care as long as their vent is not actively harming people. Not shaming.

Stop with the bloody oppression Olympics.

[chouxsardine]

The Lucky Ones -- Danny Wagner x reader

Summary: Does superstition still work its magic when it comes to love? --a spontaneous new year tradition leads to confessions between you and Danny

Pairing: Daniel Wagner x reader

Word Count: 3229

Warnings: mention of alcohol, cussing, superstitions, slight allusion to previous abusive relationship, insecurity

Genre: fluff, COTTON-CANDY-GRAPE LEVEL OF SWEETNESS, friends to lovers

Author's note: Here is a VERY LATE Danny's Birthday/New year fic and also my first time writing Danny! Inspired by the viral tiktok trend about amusing new year traditions. I find them very interesting. I wish everyone a belated happy new year and all the best wishes. Please enjoy :))

🎧: The Lucky Ones by Lana Del Rey (by now titles from song is canon lol I'm so sorry)

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You have always been a superstitious person, not religious, not believing in magic or the supernatural, just superstitious. Yes, you do believe ghosts exists, and you try to cover your eyes and ears when watching horror films. You hold awe and veneration for some “higher power” like your primitive ancestors. Since childhood, you have always been meticulous about the details, from the direction in which your slippers are pointing at when you take them off before bed to what to eat for breakfast the day of your school theatre showcase. Growing up, many people misunderstood your behavior as symptoms of OCD, but only you know that it is merely the result of your obsession with coincidences and the compulsion to recreate the happiness they have brought to your life; far from being diagnosed as an disorder.

You are going to spent the New Year’s Eve with Danny. You have known each other since you were little kids and have been best friends for over two decades. Friends and families have been teasing you two about being together, and almost everyone thought at least one of you was going to make a move during Christmas. But, alas, nothing happened as the days passed, and here you are, about to draw an end to another year of your friendship. Your feelings for Danny have certainly have developed beyond just platonic level, but you also didn’t want to ruin the precious friendship you have built throughout the years. Plus, you have to admit that you are waiting for a sign. Ah, yes, it is your superstition at work—you believe that there will be an omen indicating the time is ripe to confess your true feelings for Danny. It is not very often that he gets a break from touring and returns home. For now, you just want to be close to him, spend quality time together, and create more memories.

It is safe to say that you nearly jumped off the couch when you saw the trend about “eating twelve grapes under the table at midnight of New Year’s Day for good luck.” How are you only seeing this the afternoon of December 31st? You are already at Danny’s, and the only food you brought over is your renowned passion fruit cheesecake.

“Danny? Do you have any grapes left?”

“What?” Danny yells back from downstairs.

“Do we have any grapes?” You look around the room. The fruit bowl on the counter is filled with limes, which are for making margaritas later. Oh, you should have known better.

“I don’t think so. Do frosted grapes count?” Danny enters the living room and opens the fridge door.

You watch expectantly as Danny opens the freezer section. To your disappointment, there are only five freezer-burned round objects that could hardly be identified as grapes huddled together in a ziplock bag.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Suddenly craving some grapes?” Danny asks amusingly.

“No…well, yes,” You defeatedly close the fridge door and show Danny the post you just read. “It says you’re supposed to eat grapes for good luck.”

“Hum…”Danny’s eyebrows knit in concentration as he skims the article. “I think grocery stores are still open today.”

That’s the thing about Danny. Although you try to hide your superstitious behavior from others, you are never afraid to be yourself in front of him. Instead of thinking you are weird or childish, Danny finds your “little rituals” cute and endearing. He never presses on with questions, which only makes you more willing to explain them to him. And Danny is one hell of a listener.

Nothing compares to the last grocery run of the year. Maybe last-minute Christmas shopping comes in a close second. You are prepared for sensory overload when you see the preoccupied parking lot.

“Looks like everyone forgot something for their dinner,” Danny pulls open the passenger’s side door. Panic suddenly struck you.

“What if everyone has read about it and grapes were sold out?”

“I guess we will find out in a minute.”

Your worries almost became reality. There were only a few bags left on the fruit shelf, and they were obviously being picked over—from the plastic packaging, you saw a few were squished and watery, the ones near the bottom looked withered and brown. But you were positive that you could knock together twenty-four grapes from them.

“I swear you’re my lucky star, Danny. I bet there would be none left if you didn’t come with me.” You sigh in relief as you put all the remaining three bags into the cart.

“That’s a lovely to hear, y/n. Anything else we need for auspiciousness?” Danny asks half-jokingly.

“Actually, we do!” You remember the title of the little pop-up link as you scrolled to the end of the article and saw it mentioned collard greens and black-eyed peas.

Collard greens were easy to find; the panic threatened to twist your stomach again when you didn’t see any canned black-eyed beans.

“Kidney beans…chickpeas…romano…lentils….” Your eyes move fast down each row. “They only have bags of dry beans and we don’t have time to soak and boil them!”

Danny is scanning the label with you until he reaches to the top shelf and grabs a can of mixed beans.

“Look, there’s black-eyed peas in mixed beans. We can just pick them out,” Danny suggests.

“Oh my god, that’s genius!” You perk up immediately.

“Just making good use of my height advantage, I guess,” Danny beams.

On the way home, you are humming along to Queens playing in the radio and clutching the grocery bag containing a bundle of collard greens, a can of mixed beans, and three bags of grapes in your arms, as if you are taking home a puppy from the shelter. Danny couldn’t help but smile at your little expressions of contentment; he loves how you are always able to preserve the childlike innocence to appreciate all the tiny beautiful things.

As soon as you get back home, you dive into further research. By dinner, you had watched a dozen of different videos and five more articles about how exactly one should eat the grapes, answering your question of which colour grapes should you eat (both are fine, and you made sure to buy both red and green ones), whether you should eat them at the countdown to the new year or the first minute of the new year (the latter) , and whether you should sit under a table while eating it (answers vary on this one, but you decided to do it under the table anyways).

Danny is washing the grapes at the kitchen sink.

“Y/n, do you want to pick out the twelve you’re gonna eat?” He asks as he drains them in the strainer basket.

“Oh yes! Thanks for washing them, Dan,” You scamper over. Danny looks so cozy and relaxed in his sweater. His curls tied back into a small pony tail, a few stubborn strands framing his face. The hot, attractive drummer on stage that has the fans screaming and swooning is so different from the huggable human-sized teddy bear that you get to see a lot more often, but it still has the little girl inside you all rosy-cheeked and fluttered nonetheless. For a moment, you are lost appreciating his profile, his lips slightly pursed, long eyelashes casting shadows as he looks down in concentration. The grapes look delicate in between his strong and lean fingers.

“Y/n?”

You are pulled back from your thoughts and bump right into Danny’s mossy brown eyes staring at you. You feel your cheeks getting hotter. Is it still normal to feel the butterflies even after you’ve been friends for so long?

“You are doing this together with me, are you?” You ask as you hold up two grapes to the light, turning and inspecting them as a gemologist. You never wanted to push your own habits and rituals onto others. You have learned from that mistake in past relationships and have since been careful about not coming across as the superstitious version of the lunatic “horse girl”. Although Danny has been considerably supportive about this—buying the grapes with you, coming up the clever solution with the beans, and now this grown ass man is leaning over the kitchen counter and being the judge of a “grape beauty pageant” —the insecurity deep down still peeks around the corner.

“Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t say no to some good luck for the new year.” You can tell Danny’s smile is genuine. Upon seeing the curve of his lips, you could heard the bubbles of second thoughts in your mind popping.

“Look, we even got the cotton candy kind of grapes, those are your favourite.” Danny holds up a bunch of particularly green and shiny grapes.

You almost let out a chirp at the sight of it. You must’ve ignored the label as you hurriedly picked them up at the store. As the name suggested, they do taste like cotton candy. When your teeth break open the skin, the juices are like pure honey pouring down your throat. “And they make the best frosted grapes too!”

“You’re right. We can make another batch with the left overs to ‘replenish our frosted grapes arsenal’.”

You feel a warm, tingling sensation on your palms. Itchy palms are a good sign, right?

Half an hour to the new year, you have already situated yourself under the bar table in the kitchen, the only table in the entire house that is high and spacious enough for two grown adults to crouch under.

“Mind your head!” You extend your hand to pad the underside of the table as Danny gets down on his knees and scoots next to you, almost bumping his head.

“Ooops, close call,” Danny sat down cross-legged. “You know what, I just realized my house probably wasn’t the safest if there was an earthquake or something.”

“Shhh….Danny!” Out of your superstitious habit, you immediately put your fingers on his lips to shush him without much thinking. “Knock on wood!”

Danny pliantly knocks three times on the table above his head, laughgin at your seriousness.

You withdraw your hand, the softness of his lips lingering on your finger tips. “I don’t think this little table is going to do much anyway if it really comes to that,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

The phrase came out his mouth so naturally, without a single second of hesitation. It transported back you into the time in kindergarten when you were pushed aside while waiting for you turn to play on the slide, you looked up through tear-blurred vision; the time when you were on a camping trip and you were nervous about stepping off from the canoe onto the river bank; the time in the scary escape room where your palms were all sweaty and your teeth were biting your bottom lip so hard that it almost drew blood…all these times, there were always a pair of steady hands beside you and a calming voice saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You quickly blink a few times, getting back to reality and focusing on the two plates in front of you. It must looked like the weirdest “Girl Dinner”—a forkful of boiled collard greens, one tablespoon of black-eyed peas rinsed and drained straight out of the can, and twelve grapes (six green and six red).

“Okay, enlighten me on how to do this,” Daniel asks.

“So I looked into it a bit more. We are supposed to eat each grape along with each chime of the clock once it strikes twelve, but realistically I don’t think anyone can do that without choking, so we just have to make sure we finish all of them by 12:01. Then we eat the veggies and the beans.”

“Uh-huh, weird combinations,” Daniel muses.

“I know. That’s why I got us champagne afterwards to wash it all down.” You point to the two glasses not very far from you.

“Damn. All teed up.”

“Oh I almost forgot! One more very important thing: you are supposed to think about the wishes for the new year as you eat the grapes, one for each month!”

Your palms grew slimy again as your eyes glued to the counting down on the phone screen.

“Oh my gosh, Danny we are doing this…six, five, four, three, two, one!”

You close your eyes and start popping grapes into your mouth one by one. The excitement and adrenaline crush down the twelve preformed coherent wishes in your mind into word soup. Apart from the recurring ones like “health,” “safety,” and “happiness,” the letters spelled “Danny” again and again. Wishing Danny to stay happy and healthy, luck and success for the band and touring, hoping you get to see Danny more, spend more time with Danny, be with Danny….

You swallow down the last bite of your grapes as you open your eyes. You see Danny looking at you, smiling, his cheeks still puffed like a hamster from chewing. There is something magical about seeing the person you wished for right there the moment you open your eyes. It is like seeing the fairy godmother popping up on your birthday cake after blowing out the candles. You giggle as you both devour the greens and the beans, and your glasses clink together as you gulp down the champagne, releasing the satisfied “ahhh” exhale afterward.

“Oh wow.” You hold up the phone. The both of you watch as the seconds tick to 00 and the minutes change from 0 to 1.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

“Happy New Year, Danny.”

You two still sit in the not-so-comfortable position under the table, listening to the echoes of the chimes and the sound of fireworks in the distance, savouring the imaginary freshness of the new year, taking it all in like sniffling the smell of ink on the crispy pages of brand new books. Suddenly, you feel the warm feeling slipping away from you, as if visualizing a red line dropping on a thermometer. You don’t know if it’s the sight of the empty dishes and glasses or the adrenaline ebbing away, you aren’t prepared for the previously tamed insecurity to suddenly resurface. The aftertaste of the grapes turned sour in your mouth and made your skin crawl.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Sensing the change in your mood, Danny turns to you, immediately finding your hands and soothingly brushing circles on your palm with his thumb.

“Danny, are all these…am I…too much?” Your voice are incredibly quiet, fearing it will break. Before Danny can answer, you continue, “do you think this is too….childish and crazy?”

“Okay, y/n, take a deep breath,” you felt the warmness of Danny’s hands steady on either side of your cheek, grounding you in his loving gaze and gentle touch, “you’re not going to cry on New Year’s Day, that’s not good.”

You take in a shaky breathe, trying your best to ease the stinging feeling in your eyes as the tears threatened to spill.

“Good girl. Now, talk to me. What happened? Why are you sad all of a sudden?”

“Danny, I just felt like…” you are plagued by the flashback of the hurtful words of your ex, it still stings as you recite them, “I need to grow up and quit these stupid superstitious nonsense, quit fooling around like a five-year-old…and, and treating everyone around me like one!” You inhale deeply again to regulate your breathing.

“No, y/n. Look at me, and listen.”

“You don’t make eye contact with the microwave timer when it’s has 13 seconds remaining. You always try your best not to step on cracks on the pavement, which makes you sometimes do those goofy strides. You always visit every wishing well in the cities we travel to.”

Your eyes widens as Danny recounts each of your weird little habits chapter and verse. Wait, he remembered all of them?

“I don’t give a fuck what other people have said about them, and I wish you don’t either.” Danny always tries not to swear in front of you, so you know he really means it when he pulls out those words.

“They are what makes you…you. They are an essential part of being y/n, and that’s important. You should never second-guess or change yourself just because some asshole yaps about it. Remember that one time you told me you always cling on superstitions because you feel like good things don’t often happen to you in life, so when they do, you want to remember the way they come and try to make sure they visit the next time?”

You nod, your heart melting.

“Hearing that breaks my heart, y/n, because I think you deserve all the good things in life. It’s my wish that in the new year, this beautiful, kind, and wonderful girl in front of me will stay away from toxic people, keep the people that love and cherish her close, and always prioritize her own well-being.”

“My wish and my luck is seeing you be happy, you know that? I’m the luckiest man in the world when my girl is the happiest.”

“Danny…” You lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a few seconds to savour the moment. You feel like an air ballon fueled by the love in your heart, free and fearless.

“I really like you, y/n,” he said, “as a friend and more than a friend.”

“I like you too, Danny. My feelings are mutual.” The words automatically fall out your lips, as if they have been prepared for this moment for years.

“Yeah? You know what my other wishes are? I hope y/n can be my girlfriend. I want to prove to her how lucky and deserving she is of all the good things.” He is looking at you as if you are the most precious being in the whole world, and in this moment, you truly are.

“I think…I can make that wish come true.” You say timidly, your hands also cupping his jaw. You can feel the pulse on his neck, eager and quick.

“You know it’s also good luck to kiss loved ones on new year’s day, right?” He whispers as he draws your chin to pull you close. Without any hesitation, you attach your lips to his. The kiss is soft and loving, with the residual sweetness of cotton candy grapes.

Because you were closing your eyes and making your wish, little did you know, Danny was watching you every time he popped a grape into his mouth. Every wish he whispered silently in his heart is related to you. He hoped that you’d be by his side for all the twelve upcoming months. He would be the happiest man in the world if even one of your wishes included him.

It turned out that good things don’t always need a sign to happen. True love is always on the hunt; it may creep up on you or catch you by surprise, but either way, it will always find you in the end.

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Yeah! you made it! Thank you SO MUCH for reading :))

any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

Do let me know if we want a tag list :D

Some more of my works: Mariner's Complex || Permission to Fall

Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word

[silkbab3y]

Guys shut UP!! They’re just friends… /silly /lh

Issac (red sweater) is @z-shalltear ‘s oc!!!

Little writing fic I did because I loooove Ryder x Issac (it’s unhealthy for me /j)

Ryder likes his friend. And maybe it was just him being delusional, but sometimes it felt like Issac liked him too. Sometimes because Ryder felt as though he overthought things too much, took his friendly gestures as something more. Could you blame him? With a guy as cute as Issac, who wouldn’t hoped that he liked him back?

Ryder can remember their first meeting vividly— vividly because it was almost embarrassing for Ryder, hard to forget. He had given Issac is number at the library on a sticky note before leaving after he had seen the brunette working so studiously with whatever it was. Ryder loved nerds, so cute Issac was instantly his dream guy.

It was embarrassing how long it took for him to do anything, his friend pestering him on the phone to make a move. But he kept chickening out, hence the note. Maybe it wasn’t that embarrassing, but it was for poor ol’ Ryder. And he felt his efforts were in vain when he didn’t receive any call or text, but had assumed that it had just fell before Issac could see it, rather than the worse.

But then he saw him again and had finally introduced himself. That was… mm… a few months ago? Now they were friends and close as ever, making the little few months seem a lot longer.

Ryder was lucky, because not only did his crush liked him as a friend, but also wanted to be around him! That’s… that’s a win right?

Besides him in the food court, he let Issac go on and on about the plants he was taking care of, in return Ryder would talk about the book he was reading. “I think you might like it… I mean, if you’re like… into romance— but it’s not heavy on it—“ Ryder explains, taking a sip of his smoothie. “The girl like… has this tile traveling gene that passes down the woman side of her family, and her traveling companion also has the gene but it passes down to the men in his family. So the setting switches from like… 2011 to 1800s, and it’s a good read… er…” scratching his head, he shrugs, giving up on trying to explain it without spoilers. “I can lend you the first book, I’m on the last one.”

He glances to catch Issac’s eyebrows raise a bit. “Mm.. that fast?” He questions, the brunette smiling a bit. “Didn’t you just start the trilogy a few days ago?” Yeah, which is why Ryder was tempted to reread the whole thing again. Blame his dad for recommending him his now new hyperfixation. “Eeer…” Ryder just gives him a sheepish grin. “Maybe we can read it together?”

After their break, Ryder dreaded having to split for their classes, sometimes even debating if he should skip his to go with Issac. But alas, they both wanted to be good students (Ryder a little less than Issac), and he didn’t want to bother Issac or distract him in his learning (despite wanting to see his cute face 24/7).

Thankfully, their buildings were close by, so they had some time left before they parted. The walkway outside was crowded, most students having just gotten out of class and heading to their next one or heading home.

Ryder noticed Issac almost being eaten up by the crowd, and with an impulse— reaches out for his friend’s hand to pull him to his side. He could almost feel his heart shoot up into his throat at the feel of his hand in his before continues forward, guiding them out the crowd. Ryder couldn’t help but take a few glances back to look at Issac, before facing forward entirely before he ended up staring at the slightly anxious man in the midst of people.

‘He’s so cute.’ Ryder thinks to himself with a small smile. Finally out of the pushing people, standing in front of Issac’s building while his was just a walk away, Ryder holds onto his hand for a second longer before releasing their grip.

This was Ryder’s last class, so he wouldn’t see Issac until Thursday when their schedules align again. Maybe if he’s lucky though, he’ll see Issac tomorrow.

“Well…” Ryder swallows, shoving his hands into her Jean pockets. “Um… I’ll see you later, Issac.” He bids with a smile, waving as he backs away a bit before turning. Hearing Issac walk off into his building, Ryder takes out his EarPods and puts them on, playing whatever song his Spotify had already been playing before.

Ryder didn’t even realize he was still smiling all the way to his class until his other friend had mentioned it. Wiping at his lips as if the smile was a stain, he shrugs at his friend. “Can’t a guy be happy?”

Happy that he got to spend time with his crush, held his hand. Yeah, Ryder likes Issac.

[autumnalmess]

would love to hear more about "to watch a bird in flight"! :D

Now that I'm in my ridiculously late break from work (it's literally midnight I procrastinated for too long this morning), I can finally answer these!!

"to watch a bird in flight" is a canon era (eventual) enjoltaire fic, with the title coming from the first amis chapter:

This is a sweet but angsty pre-barricade fic in which Grantaire is a coward, Enjolras is capable of being terrible, and revolution waits in the wings.

It's inspired by the fact that Grantaire is a huge fucking yapper and I hadn't seen enough book-faithful blabbing in a lot of the fics I'd read. But more because I am charmed and fascinated by working out the pipeline from 'roughly repulsed, rejected' to the sudden and unfortunate realization of being in love with someone so a) male in 1830s France, and b) unlike anything one could have anticipated.

I've not said even half the things I have to say about this fic (more is in the tags) so please do comment if you're interested or have any questions!!

Have an angsty little snippet xx:

Bahorel claps a hand on his shoulder as Grantaire begins to shuffle homewards. “Good man. Now straight home, mind. Don't do anything stupid.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he winces, every inch of him sighs with the realization of his mistake.

Grantaire’s body goes rigid beneath his hand.

“Oh?” Grantaire mutters, facing away from him.

“Grantaire-” Bahorel begins.

Grantaire whirls around with a look of deep amusement in his eyes. His grin is almost manic, offset by a bitterness too wracked with self loathing to ignore. His limbs are quaking with the anticipation of his spiel, as if the words themselves are bubbling up within him, jostling to break the surface.

“Grantaire, you're-” Bahorel says again.

“No, dear Bahorel, you're absolutely right, the deuce! As per usual!” Grantaire cries, his voice dripping with insincerity. “So attentive of you to, to warn me against doing something stupid. Oh, as I am wont to do indeed! Bah, you know me so well!”

He is gabbling now, unable to stop himself as words spew out of him, harsher and louder with the rush of the Seine in his ears and the sympathetic grimaces of the blank faces passing him by. His hands flail wildly, desperately, in vast gestures fit for the opera. His performance is all bravado, undercut by deep hurt. Already, the guilt is rising like bile in his throat.

“Ah, alas, without you I would topple into the river! Without you I would, ah whoopsadaisy! And fall in front of every trap I see, I should be so lucky. Ever so sorry, my lord, I didn't realize you'd called for the fool! No matter, no bother, I'll just skip on over, shall I? Yes, you call for the fool, and here I am! In my red stockings and my JANGLY HAT!”

“GRANTAIRE!” Bahorel's cry silences him.

Bahorel is not an astute man by any means, nor is he concerned with the ‘how’s and the ‘why’s of the world. But he is kind. And it does not take him more than a moment to see through Grantaire's hollow little show.

His friend's wandering eyes are guilty and exhausted, and full of despair. He envelopes Grantaire in an embrace.

For a moment, Grantaire is still, then his weight shifts almost imperceptibly against Bahorel's sturdy form.

“You're not a fool,” says Bahorel carefully. “I know that's what this is really about. But I don't think that. And I'd never say what he said…I'm not even certain he meant it himself.”

He holds Grantaire at arm's length, staring him in the eyes. Grantaire shifts uncomfortably and looks at the floor.

“Go home, Grantaire. Okay? Get some sleep. Have some fucking water for God's sake. And tomorrow you can watch whilst I punch that pompous bastard in the mouth.”

He says it with an easy smile on his lips, but Grantaire does not laugh. He just sniffles, wipes his nose on his sleeve, and looks at the floor.

“I'll go home,” he mumbles.

[huntsvillegossip]

Happy New Year Lovelies!

Well, happier for some than for others, it seems. Eagan Connolly is raising quite the fuss about the disappearance of someone named Will Monroe—details are light on who exactly Will is but apparently he's known to some as a local prostitute. If you see her hobbling around, maybe keep a wide berth, since they’ve been heard muttering to themselves in public. If it was something worth worrying about, the police or Mayor Nat herself would have informed us, of course.

We have multiple witnesses having seen what looked like a very upset Christopher Winters and a very concerned Jim Dunford in town the other day. They were arguing about what sounded like a cheeky New Years Eve kiss that they shared. Jim seemed to be trying to placate Christopher, who was not having it, shoving the man away and stalking off. No news yet as to whether Emma Dunford is aware of this. For all we know, this might be her way of having her cake and eating it too. Christopher and Emma are also expecting a child, which begs the question, is now really the time to try something new?

Speaking of their upcoming adoption, the baby’s birth mother has also been on her own romantic adventure. Josie Reigh and Gabriel Westfall are official, at least if the people overhearing her referring to him as her boyfriend are to be believed. The two seem to be quite happy with each other. Alas, not everyone seems to be as over the moon as they are. Nico Garcia stills seems hung up over Miss Reigh, which is no surprise, since he always was the more sensitive brother. He has repeatedly been seen intoxicated at the Sasquatch and was even heard propositioning one of their bartenders. One lucky contender who took him up on the offer is Jessica Sinclair. That girl's taste has always been questionable—but perhaps this is the one who will break her streak of heartbreak?

The younger Garcia brother isn't the only one moping and drinking his sorrows away at the bar. Theodore Collins has become the latest member of the lonely hearts club. Many have remarked he's been overly temperamental at work with some adding in that he and Kirby have officially called it quits. However, seems they're both quick to move on. Theodore was spotted hitting on Morgan Vovk, who took him home "as a friend"—you can take that as you will. Meanwhile, Kirby has been seen multiple times leaving the drive-in with Edward Langston. Now, sonsidering he should be focused on helping raise his goddaughter, you would think he'd reconsider his priorities. Kirby is fun but they're hardly the person you'd want around when you're trying to be responsible.

That's all for now, my lovelies. Remember: drink and flirt responsibly! You never know who's watching.

Love, Auntie G

“Is it just me, or do the old folks at the retirement home seem happier lately?  Is it just because of that new doctor working there or what?” - Anon (37M)

“So, I hear there’s an angry bounty hunter in town, and word on the street is he’s after a big score. Guess it makes sense that he seems to have joined Val Moreno’s harem. He seems like her type. Good luck and godspeed to Connor Hastings, I suppose.” - Hopeful Future Harem Member

“It appears like Duck Romero has been lassoed by Claire Forbes and is officially off the market. I saw the two of them on what appeared to be a date after New Years looking mighty cozy. Third time’s the charm, folks!” - Town Bird Watcher

“Declan Sullivan seems to be sowing his wild oats, as he was seen kissing Peyton Wilson soon after a love confession to him by Artemis Hayes was overheard at a construction site. Never seen a boy high tail it out of a conversation so fast. Hey, I'm willing to be her shoulder to cry on any day.” - Bob the Builder

"You'd be surprised how much shit gets talked about at the construction sites. You know that circus guy? Mercy Wainwright? Might've overheard him bitching about not getting to see his kid. That he might actually try to get custody of 'em. Not sure how the baby mama, Josie Reigh, gonna feel about that one." - The 4th Property Brother

“Yeah, so I was having a drink at the Sasquatch when Hope McGillivray threw a drink in Floyd Blackward’s face. Guess he made a pass at her but you can’t blame a guy for trying. Dude’s still stuck in second place it looks like.” - Day Drinker

“Although Halley MacGillivray and Saffron Aubert are now officially dating, Halley has been seen hanging out with Felix Berkowitz, Saffron's ex-fiancé. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Loyalty seems to be a concept that family struggles with.” - Anon (22F)

"Hey, so I don't know if it was the eggnog at the party or what. But Edgar Wayne had a full meltdown at his own party. Looks like it was cause of Beverly Torrance, she went skinny dipping in this freezing ass weather with Elijah Atkins. I thought the rangers were suppose to help out folks not nearly kill 'em." - Eggnog Lover

[mandrakebrew]

Show Me the Place Where your Words Come From

Words: 1,424 Rating: General Content Warning: oc x canon

In retrospect, Dr Palmer should have counted themselves lucky that the city's library had a couple books on Hungarian. One on learning the language, and another on it's history. They asked the librarian if any others were checked out, and none were. So they checked out what was there, and headed out.

Their next stop was the bookstore they frequented. The store didn't have anything, but Palmer asked the owner if he could get them some books on the language, and some magazines and catalogues too, if possible. The owner said he'd try.

After they started gathering resources, they realized a slight problem. One of their commanders bad habits was snooping around. Their home was no exception. They'd caught him once, and found some items of theirs moved around in their drawers. If they wanted the surprise to actually be a surprise, they'd have to get clever.

Fortunately, at least for this instance, they grew up in a home where they needed to keep things hidden, so it was a well developed talent. Putting them inside something with a lock wasn't a good idea. Might as well put a big sign that said 'Look in Here!' above it. Palmer could ask Para-Medic to keep them at her place, but having to explain what they were doing made them want to avoid that option.

Drawers, and cabinets were also a no go. Putting them under their mattress was almost laughably bad. However…

They slid themselves under the bed, pushing some boxes out of their way. They took the knife they keep in their pocket and cut a slit almost a foot in length into the fabric under the box spring. Then they placed the books onto the wooden frame inside.

The hiding spot worked for two years.

Palmer found a couple co-workers who were native speakers as well. Which was fortunate since they pointed out just how bad the doctor's pronunciation was. Those conversations were had when Palmer was sure Skull Face was nowhere in the building. Quickly silencing a conversation with someone when he walked in the room would never look innocent. They'd have to spoil the surprise, otherwise their commander would assume the worst of the situation.

Alas, it got spoiled not because of Skull Face's snooping, or having caught Palmer in a hushed conversation, but because the doctor couldn't help getting distracted.

They'd wandered into their bedroom after taking a bathroom break from studying. They noticed their books no longer fit on their bookshelf, and were decided which ones to get rid of. They got so focused on this task that they failed to notice the sound of the front door opening.

Eventually, they remembered what they'd been doing, and returned to the living room. Only to find their commander sitting on the couch, looking at the study materials spread about the coffee table.

Palmer now only slightly regretting giving him a key and telling him to come over whenever he wanted.

The commander had his back to them, and didn't seem to know they'd walked back into the room, so they stayed quiet. Skull Face currently flipping through one of their notebooks. He then traded it for one of the catalogues Palmer had. They got it for translation practice, and to see pictures of Hungarian homes.

They took a few more moments simply to watch, enjoying the novelty of sneaking up on him for once. Eventually they walked around the couch and into his line of sight. “I meant for it to be a surprise.” They explained.

If Skull Face was startled by their sudden appearance, he didn't show it. “You're learning Hungarian.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I just thought…” Their commander was their lover, yes, but he was also their friend. One of, if not the only, person they could truly be themselves around. He made them feel safe for once. While they both shared knowledge of English and German, the doctor felt it was unfair they could never speak in his mother tongue. They knew nothing of it, and he'd lost most of it growing up. Another tragedy from a long list in Skull Face's life.

“I wanted us to be able to speak in your mother tongue, not just mine.”

“How long have you been working on this?” His voice had gone quiet to the point they almost missed what he asked.

”Két év, gondolom?“

The commander just stared at them in response. Did they say it wrong? Was their pronunciation off again? Did he not understand what they said?

Before they could ask anything though, Skull Face cleared his throat. He dropped the catalogue he'd been holding onto the table.

“Excuse me, there's something I need to attend to.”

”What? You just got here.“

”Yes, but I just remembered it.“ He responded as he got the door. He still had his hat and jacket on so he quickly left the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Palmer started wringing their hands. Did they offend him? Was this whole thing an overstep? A mistake? Should they try to call him later tonight or wait until work tomorrow to talk?

Palmer looked at the materials on their table. They should probably put those away now.

As he walked back towards his home, Skull Face tried to process what the hell just happened. He wasn't used to it, people just being kind him, at least not without some hidden hook. Not since his childhood which he now barely recalls. This though, goes beyond kindness. They spent all that time… Doing something for him?

Skull Face was a man of action, he was rarely swayed by talk. It was too easy to say one thing and then act another. So being told the words, “I care about you,“ or ”you're important to me,“ didn't mean a whole lot to him.

Actions however, were harder to ignore. There was hard evidence in front of him that the doctor cared about him.

He cleared his throat again, and breathed in sharply. His vision began to blur, and his eyes stung. Skull Face shook his head and started walking faster towards his home.

They didn't speak again until lunchtime the next day. Palmer could barely focus on work, absentmindedly doing paperwork. The morning had been calm was well, making it drag on even more.

Finally, they heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” If it wasn't their commander, the doctor was going to have an anxiety attack.

”Afternoon, Doctor,“ Thankfully for the doctor, Skull Face opened the door and came inside.

”Ah, Commander,“ They forced a smile, trying to keep control of their nerves.

”My apologies, for the interruption last night.“

”It's alright, I'm sure it was out of your hands." Him needed to go do something was an obvious lie, they knew that. In fact they were sure Skull Face knew they knew that.

They moved the conversation away, "Anything interesting happen this morning?“ They'd complain about their day, but they knew better than to complain about a slow day in the medical field.

”I had a meeting with the major, not much else.”

“Oh? Anything you can tell me?”

“It's confidential, I'm afraid.”

The doctor made a fake pouting face at him, before letting it drop, ”Ah well, I trust you know what you're doing.“

The XO wondered if they meant 'you' as a collective. Or just him.

There was a tense silence after that, before they both spoke at the same time, the elephant finally being acknowledged.

”Doctor-“

”Listen-“

The both stop again, then the commander gestures for Palmer to continue.

”I didn't mean to upset you, if that's what happened.“

Upset? Is that how they took his reaction? Then again, how else were they supposed to take it?

”You didn't,“ He paused, ”I appreciate the thought.“

That's a relief, though they were still confused as to his… Theatrics.

They'd been so caught up in worrying that they'd damaged their relationship somehow, they never considered that his reaction might be a positive one. But the more they did think about it, the more it made sense. He'd gone so long without kind gestures that he'd simply didn't know how to respond. An abused dog that cries out when pet.

”Szívesen, commander.“ They smiled at him. ”Now that's it out in the open, maybe you can help me study.“

”I'm still learning it myself, you know.” He reminded them.

“Well then, we can help each other study.”

An excuse to spend more time with the other, not that they really needed one.

A/N: Két év, gondolom = 2 years, i think Szívesen = You're welcome

[cescalr]

New tag game: list ten of your childhood ships!

tagged by @babybeale <3... forever ago. Uh. Whoops!

[I will also state my current feelings regarding the ship, and I'll go into as little or as much detail as I feel like <3 I'm also. I have a sieve brain. I'm trying to remember what the fuck it was I shipped as a kid lmao. Anything I shipped, say, pre 2016, I think should count? ftr that means I was 14 or under when I shipped it.]

Nina/Fabian, from House of Anubis;

They're still cute. Better than what they pulled in the last season ;-; fabian and mara...... why...........

2. Sam and Freddie, from iCarly;

This show was just. Not good at writing romance. At all. It was bad at it. But I am very smart and know better than them (/joke) so I could do seddie justice. Er. Maybe trying to do that right now, actually. Shh.

[also, friend; jade and beck is so complicated, you're right. A fun mess, but still a mess lmao. Me and my rarepairs was always a fan of stuff that never ended up being canon though. Might as well put it next, I guess? Looking at your 3.... when it comes to icarly; we could not possibly have had more different opinions on the matter <3 lmao]

3. Tori Vega / André Harris;

I haven't watched it in years so I do not remember why! But I do remember that I did. I think. Don't - don't quote me on anything ever.

4. Willoz - from buffy the vampire slayer;

No gifs for them :( :( :( love them still so very much <3

5. Honestly, I'd steal your number 5 bestie, 6Teen was great. In the spirit of obscure animated TV shows, though - and It's been so damn long I forgot the names of some characters, had to look up the guy's name, lol - Zero and Vin from The Invisible Network of Kids. It left a profound impact on my psyche because they did something really fucked up in the last episode, plus left us on a cliffhanger, and then the show got cancelled </3 rip. Haven't watched it in a decade or so. No idea if it holds up, but I was super invested in these kids doing spy work and experiencing insane levels of trauma that would be ignored come each new episode </3. I was literally 8 years old <3. It has a TV tropes page and the entire show is availible on the Internet Archive, of all places, sooooooo I may browse. For nostalgia's sake. There are literally zero gifs available for this one, because. I mean. No shit.

7. Didn't watch any of that continuity - only got so far as Tracey Beaker Returns... alas. Anyway, my pic for 7..... hm. Sigh.

Stiles/Lydia, Teen Wolf.

This ^ is NOT romantic! she slams her mouth onto his in the middle of a panic attack. Babe. No. No. Regardless; I don't like it </3. They really. Oh god they really fucked up this one. Like a lot. Plus, they both just ended up with much better canon ships (stalia, marrish) that then got shafted for this mess to be the endgame and then the movie breaks them up anyway!!! OFFSCREEN!!!! they didn't even last 2 weeks!!!! fuck!!!!!!!! I don't like them. But I used to. Playlist, for proof. I feel like this counts, because I shipped them when I first watched the show as it aired (I was 10 when the show started), but I did still ship the pairing until well into my teens (16 or so) before I wised up (the show made them very bad in a really boring way. Not that they weren't bad before. Love how they both do things that are otherwise reprehensible but the show frames them as romantic for some fucking reason </3 I was like 13 when I saw this kiss on screen. They're lucky I did research and didn't just take it at face value or I could've gotten some really bad ideas about what's healthy in a situation like this!).

8. Zikki (Zane/Rikki), H20: Just Add Water;

Season 3 does not exist <3 [also, the way they wrote the 'cheating' plotline was fucked up. That woman planted one on him!!! he did not consent!!! Why are we supposed to be blaming him for being sexually harassed in the workplace!!! No!!!]. Still ship them fr fr.

8. maf;lkasjd;f yeahhh. Think if you watched friends as a kid, it was inevitable you'd ship rosschel, the damn thing was pushed so hard. Stand in regretful solidarity;

For really obvious reasons (being that it is rosschel); hot damn no I do not!

9. Harry and Ginny, Harry Potter.

Ignoring the horrendous movie adaptation, when I read the hp books I basically just defaulted to shipping whatever was canon. Luckily for me, the canon hp ships are actually pretty good ones! If you ignore the canaries in the room. (I. Do not. Famously. Well. Infamously.) As for Hinny, whilst its a garbage ship name, the pairing itself is pretty great <3

10. kaljdflkasdt thank god I don't remember jack shit about watching glee for the first time! the sieve brain is a blessing in this one occasion. I've already mentioned in another (tagged <3) post my vaguely-relevant hsm ships, though, so..... hmm. What should I pick.... let's think.... I'm kidding. I don't need to think.

Shoker is a major missed opportunity in ME, and I've been mad about the choices for my fem!shep for YEARS because. Look. Kaiden she did not cheat on you. You left!! You accused her of being evil and fucked off after she was resurrected!! what else was she supposed to think other than 'guess he doesn't want to date me anymore. Rude.' And. You could have sex with Jack but not romance her, that was locked to male characters >:| biphobia [Jack can have sexual relations with women, but her only real connections are to men. Rude!]. And, Liara in my games always turned herself down for romance because she assumed my shep wanted to date Kaiden because she's not a total dick to him and there's no way for me to clarify otherwise, also people making assumptions :/ not great. Plus Li becomes the shadow broker and it's a whole thing, so that doesn't really work out narratively for me anyway. Can't romance Miranda. Can't romance Tali (wouldn't anyway - Tali/Garrus <3). Refuse to romance Garrus that is just so platonic a dynamic it's not even funny. Jacob cheats and dips, so fuck him. Like... all of the fem!shep romances are terrible (or Trainor, I guess, but she's... kind of. Nobody. She's Just There. Sorry. It's not narratively interesting enough for me.) and Joker was right there and augh. Augh! Still ship. Still mad about it. Hatboy Project is doing the lord's work! I salute thee soldier in thine endeavours. Waiting to replay LE until it's been finished <3.

<3

If anyone wants to pick this up, go for it!

[foundcupid]

Zhongli x Gn!reader

Reader works at Heyu Tea House

’Come on Zhongli! Take a break, you’ve worked hard enough for the day!’ Hu Tao stated, pushing him out of Wangsheng funeral parlor ‘director Hu are you sure? I really don’t mind working over time you know’ ‘yeah I know! I just don’t wanna pay you extra, but enough talking! Go do fun things for once!’ Before he could argue, she had already shut the door ‘ah, I see..’

Zhongli knew Liyue better than the back of his hand, he knew the best places to rest, so, he decided to try something familiar. ‘Heyu Tea House’, he had been there a few times before, but nothing wrong with sticking to the same things.

You were just going on with your day, your shift going easier than usual! With all guests satisfied you decided to take a well deserved rest, standing around is difficult after all! But alas, a new guest arrived. You sighed, getting your customer friendly smile ready.

‘Hello sir, welcome to Heyu Tea House! For how many will you be seated?’ ‘Just one please.’ You smiled ‘alright! Please then, follow me’ he nodded, you were surprised at how handsome and calming this man is, he has a surprisingly domestic like aura. Whomever is in a relationship with this man sure is lucky, no way he is single. ‘Uhm, pardon me? Is this my seat?’ You jolted from your daydreaming ‘ah- ah yes! Yes this, is uh you seat, yes sorry about that sir, my apologies!’ He chuckled, it made you heart beat even faster.

‘It is quite alright, maybe you should take a break? I wouldn’t mind some company, especially not if it is yours’

[finnlongman]

Working on annotating a copy of The Butterfly Assassin for one lucky winner who pre-orders The Hummingbird Killer. My handwriting is, alas, inhibited by my efforts not to break the spine of the book.

As well as including songs from my playlist whenever I feel they particularly suit a certain chapter, I'm giving insights into the writing process and where certain details come from. And at times I am just having opinions about certain characters and lines.

And occasional secrets:

There is only one of these annotated books in existence, so if you want it, you should pre-order THK and fill in the Google form to be entered into the draw. (Everyone gets the bonus short story, though.)

[icharchivist]

if anything BG3 and GBF share the problem of lady characters NOT having more muscle when they definitely should be absolutely built considering their level of strength and activity i think

*for real*

that's a problem in most medias alas since there's always this constraint of keeping women "physically attractive" while failing to understand buff women hot.

Video games also usually end up in this problem with the limitations of 3D models (one that like... does exist, but also kinda sucks that they don't do any effort to work more on it.).

Granblue doesn't have this "excuse" so the fact they refuse to define some muscles on women is always eyeroll worthy, especially for some of the big fighters out there. Like Katalina. Whom by all account should be buff since Grand Blues has a running joke about her breaking her armor by flexing, or seeing some of her arts being about lifting weights.

but at least sometimes we get lucky. Not enough to praise the game, but at least enough to be glad it's happening yaknow?

Fiorito's abs for instance are great. They could have done more with her arms, but she does focus more on her abs anyway. They could be even more, but i'm glad we have it.

and then we had NPCs who actually showed some goodies like

it's not perfect. But hopefully it's some steps in the right direction.

And of course there's Ladiva's case but, while i think Ladiva is an incredible trans rep and everything, the fact one of the only really muscular woman is a Trans Woman probably deserves its own can of worm. Even if Ladiva is perfect.

But Granblue's 2D VN model has so little excuses for how they don't take risks with bodyshapes that it's not even like it's a glowing review to say that tho lmao

[billconrad]

Riding A Bike Helps Everything

    At age six, an enormous box was under the Christmas tree. When I tore off the wrapping, I saw the picture of a Toys Are Us Geoffrey Giraffe bicycle. Unfortunately, it was not all good news because several parts broke when my father and I assembled the bike. Yes, my bike was junk, but I loved the freedom, adventure, and adulthood that bike riding represented.

    My bike was orange, with a striped banana seat and a flag. Of course, I needed training wheels and had difficulty mastering balance. During those early years, I had several accidents. Bike helmets were not standard gear then, and I was lucky I did not crack my head open. I still have two visible scars from crashing.

    That bike quickly fell apart, and my mother bought me a black Schwinn from a church friend. What a machine. It got stolen a year later, and my mother purchased a red Schwinn from the classified ads. Not a great bike, but I rode it everywhere, including school. However, there were limitations, specifically the hills around our neighborhood.

    I needed a bike with gears; five years later, my father gave me his ten-speed. It required brakes, shifters, and seat repairs, but I quickly fell in love with this new capability. My favorite activity was exploring the canyon behind our house. I took a weekly four-hour ride from 1985 to 1988.

    That bike broke when I tried to jump a curb, and my dad purchased a chrome Raleigh mountain bike for my eighteenth birthday. This machine was incredible, and an entirely new level of adventures opened up. Plus, it looked fantastic. I rode that bike for many years, exploring canyons, and it followed me to Orange County, California, where I tried to get an engineering job.

    At that time, there were few jobs in San Diego, and I hoped the larger cities around Orange County would have better prospects. But, alas, I ended up at Kinko’s making copies—a degrading and menial experience. On top of my job difficulties, not having a girlfriend or professional work stressed me out.

    To ease my tensions, I began taking bike rides after work. This physical activity improved my mental outlook, plus it was healthy. But what is the stress reduction difference between a bike ride and some other physical activity? I have run, lifted weights, walked, swam, meditated, tried yoga, danced, skipped rope, hiked, and stretched for exercise. While these are excellent physical activities, I did not find they were good at relieving stress

    Why? Cycling takes tremendous focus at some stages and almost none at others. It is a three-dimensional activity with scenery, challenges, danger, and physical exertion. The success is evident at the journey’s end because the rider has advanced from one location to another.

    What is my stress-reducing process? At the beginning of a ride, I only concentrate on riding. Then, about ten minutes later, I relax, and my focus drifts from the ride to other areas. This supporting mindset allows me to think about issues, problems, friends, my job, solutions, life, and relationships. Yet, sometimes, my mind ends up going to baffling places.

    Do I listen to music or a podcast to help me relax? No, this is a special time, and I do not want to experience somebody else’s creations. Instead, the scenery, other riders, trail challenges, and physical exertion provide entertainment and a natural distraction. Such genital distractions help my creativity and problem-solving by breaking up thoughts, which means that one thought does not dominate my time.

    Do I recommend bike riding to others? Yes and no. Exercise has become a religion for many people. If a new person begins lifting weights, baseball, or boxing, they can be hazed by the experienced. I would never try to push my beliefs toward others.

    I can attest that bike riding helps me, and everybody should be physically active for many reasons, including mental health. Bike riding is not for everyone because it is dangerous, and unlike a treadmill, riders must keep going when they get tired.

  You’re the best -Bill

  May 31, 2023

  Hey book lovers, I published three. Please check them out!

  Interviewing Immortality is a psychological thriller about a 500-year-old woman who forces a disgraced author to interview her.

  Pushed to the Edge of Survival is a drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

  Cable Ties is a classic spy novel about two hunters discovering that government communications are being recorded and the ensuing FBI investigation.

  These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

[catastrophex]

melatoninburst​:

“Nice, it’s good to adopt strays, especially given the way people treat animals out there. It’s absolutely ridiculous, I say.” As a clown, she’s sure she’s a good judge of ridiculousness too, even if she never went to Clown college or even works as one formally. Shanice however, kind of gets the whole- American word usage, she’s ended up doing much the same herself, given she has plenty of American friends- so using words like that had become common place for her. 

Tutors, though, is a bit of a surprise- this dude must be rolling in money, huh? No wonder he didn’t need the Paypal, huh? Damn. Must be nice. He could buy so many mattresses to use to sleep on. Ah, truly, the high life- still, she’s content in her money, any more than she has would just be a pain, really. 

“Ay, not to worry. I’m the last person to police language- you can use American words all you like. I’ll just use context to pick up any I don’t know. Plus, I tend to use American words for things myself with strangers, since most of the time they’re more familiar with those given shows tend to be set in America, the slang and words are pretty easy to pick up rather than you know, the United Kingdom ones. Although, you guys own an apartment? You’re pretty young looking- like around my age- propety prices are hell. I do not envy you.” Scottish slang and words even less so. Should she use those, she’d only get strange looks. 

Still, she takes note of his reaction to her comment- she can’t help but feel a bit bad for pointing out the obvious in this case, especially since he’d know better than anyone just how difficult it would be- but she’s at least sure he’s capable enough to be able to use it properly and with such a capable teammate, then problems shouldn’t readily arrive as often. Mistakes are bound to be made, sure, but she thinks everyone should be entitled to some, super hero or not.

“That’s good, having people to rely on is always a good thing- I’m sure she’s lucky to have you too, after all, both your powers seem to compliment each other since you know-” She pauses, like trying to think of words for what she’s going to say. Come on, Shanice, you’re an English major. “Hold up, word issue- balanced? half and half of the same thing? You get it- they cover what the other one doesn’t so you two working together is beneficial.”

Upon him being up for taking one of her offers, she grins, opening up her bag proudly, hoping he’d ignore her phone case as she pops it back in with the same motion ( people don’t like her sparkly Friday the Thirteenth phone case, alas, but Jason and his sparkly machete are held close to her heart, at least. ) to pull out her options and let him select what he’d like. Hell, he can have all of them, she can buy more- snacks aren’t hard to find. 

“Well, thanks are well and good but snacks are better. I got Sour Skittles, Sour patch kids, mints, Lollipops of many different flavors and Doritos. Although, I don’t have salsa, I’m ashamed to say, the glass container would break and my books would be gone,” Shanice couldn’t ever forgive herself for harming Edgar Allan Poe, after all. She does however motion for him to take what he’d like. “So, take whatever you’d like. I got plenty.” 

“Oh, absolutely,” Chat nods in agreement, “Me and my brother are both suckers for cats; we’d probably adopt more than the one if not for our lease only allowing one cat, and we have to pay more for the privilege.”

Or more so, their father is paying more for it. Neither of them really wanted him to- they have plenty to spend from the years of modelling income that went right into savings- but letting him pay their rent was the only way to get him to relent on trying to stop them from moving out.

The man still doesn’t know how to respect his sons decisions or desires, even now that they’re adults.

“Oh, yes, Americans certainly,” he laughs slightly, “made themselves known. A whole giant country of attention seekers.”

That’s a generalization, he knows, but the American culture is extremely flashy, and he’s well acquainted with that from his yearly trips to New York.

“Ah, oui, yes, our rent is is sky high, especially since we’re in central Paris,” a frown flickers across his face, but he quickly forces it away, “but we’re claw-fully lucky. Our father is willing to help us out while we’re still in University.”

Willing, won’t take no for an answer. Same difference.

“English isn’t my native language,” he says repressing a laugh, “but yes, I think balanced is the word you’re looking for. The Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses are meant to be a pair; perfectly balanced with each other in every way.”

Even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

He doesn’t ignore her phone case, grinning as he spots the glittery Jason phone case, “you must be a horror fan, eh? Friday the Thirteenth isn’t my favorite, but it is a classic for a reason.”

People are always surprised to learn that he likes horror movies at all in his civilian identity, but he can’t imagine that to feel like so much a stretch as Chat; dressed head to toe in black leather.

“Oh goodness no, carrying salsa wouldn’t be worth the risk to your poor, poor books. My copy of le Horla is stained a caramel color because,” he pauses, quickly editing the story, “because my cat spilled a diet coke on it. I’m just glad that is was still readable once it dried.”

This was before he had a real cat; Plagg did that, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Her snacks are mostly candy, which isn’t usually his thing, but the sour candy catches his eyes, and he grabs the sour patch kids, “truly the best sweets.”

Adrien likes to make fun of him for that; the only sweets he likes are sour.  It’s pretty commonly joked that he’s a sourpuss. While going to English to make the pun is pretty funny, he doesn’t let himself laugh at it just to annoy Adrien.