#i've been surprisingly busy/out and about this summer...

[oyhcomic]

HI. i ended up binging ur comic last night it's really good!! drew me in with the story mode intrigue, hooked by the characters! and im obsessed with how you draw expressions and teeth :] def looking forward to where this comic goes!

AHHH I'm so glad!!! I love drawing big wacky expressions.....drawing the comic's so much fun, i'm so happy you enjoyed!! I'm working on the next chapter as we speak, and so excited to do so!

Ive gotta upload more doodles/fun stuffs, i've just been disorganized and trying to redux my file organization to be better for the future...pray for me x_x" In the meantime here are some explorations/sketches for later~

[transmascsteveharrington]

Pjo stranger things au in which even after the gods take an oath to claim their children, Steve remains without a parent. He's a half-blood no question about that, he's been at the camp almost his whole life, has been on missions, fought honorably in battles, has the scars to show it.

Still, even after the last child at the camp has been claimed and the Hermes cabin has become surprisingly empty, Steve remains without a mark. He keeps a brave face, tries not to let his sting. His father never wanted him, why should his mother be any different?

He doesn't even mind staying in the Hermes cabin. He has been here all those years, it's become his home, his family. Now that there is enough space he even gets his own little room, right across from Eddie, whose counselor for the Hermes cabin and right after Robin and Dustin, Steve's best friend.

"Ya, know," Eddie says, arm slung around Steve, who wills his heart to beat at a normal pace, "I bet if Hermes could claim you, he would."

He is actually not that far off. The Gods are watching their children. And all of their hearts ache when they get to claim a new kid at the camp and Steve's face falls slightly as he remains without a parent. Most gods don't care about their siblings' children, but there is something about Steve the gods can't ignore. Tragic hero, so lonely, so brave, so filled with love despite everything.

There is a rumor quietly echoing through the halls of the Olymp that Steve remains unclaimed because he is Hera's child. It's a scandalous suggestion, a heinous rumor, a forbidden truth. Spreading it might be enough to cause another war. The goddess of marriage having a child with a human? Unthinkable, and yet. Everyone knows that marriage doesn't equal love, knows how spiteful Hera is, how most of her children are hated. No one could blame her for the affair really, if the rumors were true, if anything the gods are surprised she didn't snap sooner with Zeus having affairs left and right. But if the rumors were true, they definitely would blame her for not claiming Steve. Steve who protects the younger kids fiercely, how cares so much about everyone.

It hurts one goddess especially. Aphrodite looks down at Steve and aches. Aches how he thinks that he is hard to love, hard to want, always easy to leave. Who despite that fear won't stop giving pieces of his heart out, who loves so much even though it hurts. Sometimes when Aphrodite watches Steve, he already feels like one of her own. She loves her children easily, constantly, it's impossible not to for her yet at the same time she loves them on purpose. And as she watches Steve, she can't help but love him too.

She reaches her breaking point on a warm summer night. After the bonfire, Steve goes down to the lake, sits at the pier, legs pressed into his chest in a poor imitation of a hug. He looks at his reflection in the lake and wonders why. Why is he so hard to love? It's silly really, all that had happened was some new Ares kid talking to Eddie. Tall, muscular, pretty and the guy had made Eddie laugh. Steve's thoughts had spiraled from there on.

He's so busy licking his own wounds and wallowing in the feeling of not being wanted that he almost doesn't notice the goddess emerging from the lake like she had once emerged from the ocean at the cyprian shores. Steve startles when he does notice her, before he quickly bows.

"My lady," he greets her politely, always the charmer.

"There is no need for that, Steve," she says kindly and Steve looks back up at her. She is truly the epitome of beauty, dark, bouncy curls, deep brown eyes, dimples around plum lips. Steve is not stupid, knows the goddess appears in the form you most desire, he is just glad he is alone. Robin would never let him live this down.

"What can I do for you?"

"I've come to make you an offer Steve," she explains. "I want you to devote yourself to me."

Steve gasps, stares at her a little shocked. She can't blame him.

"Why would you want my devotion?"

She can tell he isn't asking why she wants devotion, but why she specifically wants his devotions, why she would want him.

"Because I love the way you love," she says with a smile. "I love the way you love and that makes me love you. I admire your devotion, the affection you hold for your friends. If I could, I would claim you as my own. But I can't, so I am offering my patronage instead."

Steve still looks a bit struck, surprised a goddess would want him like that, would appreciate the way he loves. Steve had always bounced back and forth between being too much and not being too much. No one has ever said that they loved the way he loved.

"What would being devoted to you entail?" he asks, knowing there very often is a catch when it comes to the gods.

But Aphrodite means no malice.

"It would essentially be the same as being my child. I will come to your aid, I will love you, I will lend you my gifts if needed. Only that since we are not bound by birth, you would have to take a sacred oath. Become a...paladin is the name your Eddie would use, I belive."

Steve likes the way she says it. Your Eddie. His Eddie. It sounds almost too good to be true, being wanted like that, being offered a family like that.

"Would I have to move cabins," he blurts, overwhelmed by al his emotions. Aphrodite laughs.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dare to tear you away from the people you love so dearly. I believe you are friends with my children anways, strengthening that bond a little will be enough. But I am sure you and Chrissy will make sure of that."

"Then I take the oath," Steve decides and goes down on one knee. "I devote myself to you, goddess Aphrodite. I will worship at your altar and fulfill your quests. I am yours as you are mine."

There is a tingling sensation as he finishes his oath, warm spreads through him and he can feel himself be filled with Aphrodite's love. It's a lot. It's everything. Gently, she reaches out and cradles his face in her hand.

"Go on then, my brave little hero," she whispers. "I think you have a bonfire to return to, friends, family, your beloved."

"He isn't my beloved," Steve mumbles, blush on his cheeks.

Aphrodite just raises a brow. Steve knows she can see into his heart, he knows he can't lie to her.

"Remember that you are loved," she tells him and Steve will try his best.

He leaves the lake, a tattoo of a circle with a cross at the bottom carved into his wrist. Aphrodite watches him leave, casts a little blessing on the red string connection Steve's and Eddie's pinkie fingers. She knows her paladin doesn't need the extra help. He just needs love and she is willing to give to him all.

(part 2)

[uzuitengensfourthwife]

Home - Atsumu x reader (fem reader)

You dated in Highschool, but broke up after Atsumu lost against Karasuno. 6 years later, you meet again.

Warnings: bit angsty, otherwise none! Just fluff hihi.

Word-count: 2411

Author’s note: Well hi there! I’m back from the dead. So….. i haven’t written sth in a long time so I apologise in advance if it’s badly written or contains tons of mistakes! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

---

Atsumu never made life easier for you. Back in Highschool, when you two dated, the girls always gave you dirty looks whenever Atsumu and you walked down the hall, hand in hand. But it only worsened over time. The longer you dated Atsumu, the worse his fangirls acted towards you. Insults were thrown at you, judging looks were shared whenever you walked past them and even shoving you out of the way whenever they felt like it.

What you regret most, was stopping with your hobby to become Inarizaki's manager, of course upon Atsumu's request. You were once a very talented ice skater, but due to your relationship with Atsumu, you had stopped.

But even though all of this had hurt you, you stayed for him. His love towards you was so pure, he made sure to let you know he loved you. He was never too busy to not see you, even if it meant he had to sneak out his house to meet you at your place late at night.

However, that changed as well after Inarizaki lost against Karasuno. The once long nights you spent together, were suddenly spent alone. The Atsumu that once made sure to squeeze you in whenever, was suddenly long gone. His ego was more than hurt after this match, you remember it so well. He pushed you away even weeks after that match, he barely saw you and during practice nothing more than a little kiss was placed on your cheek, followed by a half assed "Sorry, love".

And when summer came, you've had enough. You've spent months alone. So you've asked Atsumu to meet up with you in front of the Convenience store you've usually hung out in during late nights. Surprisingly, he agreed to meet you at 4 p.m.

You waited patiently, well aware of the fact that he'd be running late. 15 minutes later he then appeared, still in his gym clothes.

"Hey love, how ya doing?" he pulled you in a hug, squeezing you tightly. "I'm fine 'tsumu.., how bout you?" you hugged back, knowing well this would be your last hug. "Ya know, good als always." He smiled as he let go of you again. However, his smile faded upon seeing you nervously fiddling around with your hands. He raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong with ya? Yer nervous as hell."

You sigh loudly, trying to keep yourself from crying. "I.... I think we should break up." - "Yer not serious, right?" He's staring you down, his eyes clearly showing that he hoped for it to be just a silly joke. "I'm very serious Atsumu. I'm moving to Tokyo next week and you need to concentrate on your career anyway." He laughs out loud, he's not believing you one bit. "I've already talked about it with Kita and Suna. They're well aware of this." - " Tokyo or not, we'll still be able to date." You shake your head. God, you should've known this would happen. "No, Atsumu we can't." - " But we haven't even tried yet. How would ya know we wouldn't make it?" He said, his pleading eyes trying to read you. "We're done Atsumu Miya." And with that you turned away and just ran. You ran away from him and the fact you still loved him very dearly.

----

6 years. It had been 6 years since you've moved to Tokyo. You've only kept contact with Suna and Kita, both of them still texting you regularly. Suna himself even moved to Tokyo, after joining a Volleyball Club within Tokyo, which led to you both meeting up regularly.

Outside of meeting your friends in your free time, you were working. A well paid job within a law firm and a nice apartment, which was close to Shinjuku. You were leading quite the normal life.

Until Suna asked you to join him at a party on a random Friday.

"You free after work?"

"Yeah I am Rin, why?"

"There is a party in Shinjuku, wanna join?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes :) I'll pick you up at 8 p.m."

And with that, you knew you had no choice but to join Suna Rintarou to this party. You yourself weren't really into parties, however Suna always dragged you to go with him, since he didn't want to go alone.

So when you came back from work at 7 p.m. you took a quick shower and made sure you got ready by 8 p.m. And on 8 p.m. your doorbell rang, so you quickly grabbed your purse and ran to the door to open it. "Ready to go?" - " Good Evening to you too Rin, and yes, let me just put my shoes on!" you chuckle, grabbing your pretty black high heels. "I'm warning you, I'm NOT going to switch shoes with you again." - " Yeah yeah, don't worry. I'm not planing on staying for long anyway." He raises an eyebrow und holds your purse so you can put on your heels. Once you're finally ready, you take back your purse and both of you make your way towards the subway.

On the way to the club, both of you exchanged about your day. You exchanged some laughter and without really realizing, you had already arrived at the subway station. Within 10 minutes you had already made it to the doors of the club.

As you wanted to get in line, Suna grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the VIP entrance. And wishing seconds you were inside the club, marked as VIP guests with a wristband. "I keep forgetting you're quite the star within the Volleyball scene." He grins at you as the loud music surrounds you both. Without even telling you, he starts dragging you towards a lounge, solely reserved for VIP's. As you were let in, he starts looking around frantically.

You nudge him, letting him now you want to say something. He bends down, putting his ear towards your lips. "Looking for someone?" - "Yeah." he answers immediately. You thought it was just the two of you, however it turns out that he was dragging you to meet some friends of his with you.

Suna then seemed to have spotted the people he was looking for, which led to him dragging you towards a table with a few seats. They all greeted him with big grins. But before you could say anything, he pushed you forward, so you were able to see who was really sitting there. You greet them all kindly with a little bow, before your eyes met with dark brown eyes that you knew too well. Your smile immediately vanished.

It was none other than Atsumu Miya.

You froze in place, not really sure what to say. It has been 6 years since you've last seen Atsumu. This must've been some bad joke, you thought. Yes of course, Suna was trying to pull a mean joke on you, nothing else.

"You okay?" One of Suna's friends asked, pulling you back into the harsh reality. "Uh.. yeah!" You put on a forced smile, trying to hide behind Suna, but before you could do so, he disappeared to get all of you some drinks. Without any other choice left, you sit down as far away from Atsumu as possible. "I'm Bokuto!" One of Suna’s friends says. He was quite big and had a very well built body. His big eyes looked at you, while he flashed you a grin. "I'm Y/N." you answered, smiling slightly. The others also introduced themselves. So Sunas friends were called, Bokuto, Hinata, Kageyama and Wakatoshi, and turns out they were all part of the Japanese national teams.

"I'm Atsumu. 'Tsumu for short." Atsumu said, shooting you a quick but forced smile. He was pretending to not know you.

Before any of this could get more awkward, Suna appeared with some drinks for everyone. Everyone grabbed a drink and that's when the conversations started to strike. Since it was your first time meeting them, besides Atsumu, you just sat there quietly listening here and there.

"What do you do for work?" Wakatoshi suddenly asked, looking at you quietly. "I'm a Lawyer!" you answered , smiling proudly of your profession. "Woahhh! No way!" Bokuto exclaimed excitedly while slapping Suna's back harshly. You chuckle lightly at Suna's slightly annoyed face. Atsumu looked at you, slightly amazed.

The conversations continued and you kept listening to them all. You definitely enjoyed your time there. Yet, after some time you just needed to get a drink by yourself at the bar, but to still be polite you asked everyone if they wanted a drink at the bar as well. They refused, so you made your way to the bar and sat down on a stool to order a drink.

However, you were disturbed by a male presence next to you. It was a man that seemed quite drunk. "Hey there cutie..." He smirked, watching you up and down. You just shook your head and ignored him. Giving him attention would only fuel his ego. Yet, ignoring him was not enough. He leaned closer towards you. "Oh come on... don't ignore me princess..." He groaned, totally frustrated. Glaring at him, you got up to see if there was another seat possible, but he grabbed you by your wrist. "Let go." you said. "Beg." He grinned disgustingly. You were aware, that he had no good intention with you.

Before anything could happen, someone appeared behind you. The presence strong and dangerous. "She said let go." Atsumu's voice rang in your ear. The man instantly let go, mumbling something incoherent. You looked up at Atsumu, who was watching the man disappear amidst the people. "Ya should be careful, ya know?" He said, sitting down where the man sat before. He watched you quietly, before nodding towards the seat, indicating for you to sit down next to him. And so you did.

Atsumu ordered you both a drink. You decided to stay quiet, not sure how to even talk to him after all that happened between the two of you. On top of that, you never talked again after the break up.

"How have ya been?" He asked you, breaking the silence. "Been well... what about you?" Nodding at your question he answers "Can't complain, 'm part of the national team after all." - " Congrats, by the way." you said, smiling sincerely this time. "Thanks." he replies, handing you your drink. You take a sip, making a face as you taste the strong alcohol within the drink.

He chuckles lightly, observing you from the side. "M glad Suna made me come today." He suddenly said, looking at his drink. " It feels good knowing yer doing well." His words took you by surprise. You were expecting everything but this.

Atsumu slightly smiled to himself, while taking a sip from his drink. "Atsumu..." - " I've thought of ya every day... just wishing ya would be doing well." He turns back to you with a big grin. " Ya should be thanking me!" This was all an act. You've known him long enough to know that something inside of him hurt.

"How 'bout we get some fresh air?"

And suddenly you both were sat outside, barely covered up in midst of the cold autumn night. You tried to warm yourself up by rubbing your arms, but it barely helped. "Here." He said, while wrapping his Jacket around you. "No, you'll be cold yourself." You say, taking off his jacket, but he immediately reacted wrapping it around you again. "Such a gentleman." you chuckle, wrapping his jacket around you tighter.

Like. every other night, Shinjuku was lively. Lots of people were walking past you, enjoying the night for the time being. You watched the people passing by, while holding on to Atsumu's jacket. "You've really become even prettier." You turn your head to him with flushed cheeks, you weren't sure whether it was because of the cold air or him.

"I.... I'm sorry for what happened 'Tsumu." You said quietly, looking at the ground. You were ashamed at how everything ended back then. "Don't apologize. It was my fault... I.. I was an asshole." He stuttered. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was just.... broken I suppose." - " I know Atsumu..." You whispered, sliding closer to him. "I was an asshole too. I should've tried to talk to you before even making such a harsh decision."

He shakes his head. "No..it was best for ya. See how successful you've become without me?" - "I would've been happier if you were with me." You didn't even mutter. It was the truth after all. Yes, you were successful but you were more than sure that you would have been happier on this journey if he would have been part of your life. But you had cut him out of it, out of stupidity.

He looked at you surprised. You knew he didn't expect an answer like this from you. But it was the harsh truth, even to you. "I never stopped loving you Atsumu. I was just... scared. Scared you'd leave me if I had said anything. I was scared of conflict." His eyes widened in shock while you tried to stop yourself from crying. It didn't work. Suddenly tears streamed down your face.

Atsumu immediately pulled you into a hug. "God no.... I would've never left ya love...!" He whispered while pulling you closer. You've never felt better before, it felt like you were home again. You've found your home within Atsumu again.

"I... I still love ya... and never stopped loving ya while ya were gone.. Ask 'Samu, he's heard all about it.. " he joked, laughing slightly while rubbing your back in a calming manner. A chuckle escape your lips.

You felt inner peace, as if you've been lost for an eternity and then finally finding back home. Your home was Atsumu and nothing else mattered to you at the moment.

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him. His cheeks were red and before you could make a funny remark, he placed a sweet but quick kiss on your lips.

"I see you two lovebirds have made up, hmm?" Suna was leaning against a wall, watching them with a big smirk on his face. "Oh shut up Rintarou!"

You were more than thankful that Rintarou dragged you here, if he hadn't, you wouldn't have found your home again.

[morganwrites12672]

1998 - Sixteen Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Gladys helps you sort through your feelings (and she meddles a bit). After that, Dean decides to stop by for a visit.

Word Count: 3.0k

Rating: PG-14

A/N: I really hope you guys are enjoying this series! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 (there's the link to the master list). But, this can be read as a stand alone.

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South Dakota was miserable during the summer. September seemed to be the hottest month, even if it was supposed to have started cooling down by now.

Sitting on Gladys's porch, a glass of sweet tea in hand, the two gossiped. Gladys seemed to know everything about everyone despite living further away. Gladys owned one of the few properties in this part of town. Everyone had many acres, and avoided each other.

Gladys had begun babysitting Bobby's daughter whenever the girl had been a mere baby. It hadn't taken the older woman long to figure out what Bobby's real job was. Surprisingly, she hadn't been that shocked. There had always been something off about Bobby Singer.

The older woman took another drink of her sweet tea before looking over at the girl sitting on the porch swing. It slowly rocked back and forth. She had noticed how the girls gaze drifted to the apple orchards.

She enjoyed watching the branches sway in the light breeze. She felt Gladys's eyes on her and turned her head.

"There's something on your mind sweetheart," Gladys said, she could tell exactly what it was too. Even if the younger girl didn't even know what it was she felt.

She shrugged, "It's about Dean."

"I can tell. What about him?" Gladys asked with a small smile. She could read the Singer girl like a damn book. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve.

"I don't even know!" She exclaimed, leaning back on the swing. She set her iced tea down. "He's making me nervous and it's really weird," She mumbled, a light blush coating her cheeks.

Gladys chuckled, "Oh, honey. That's called a crush."

Her cheeks turned scarlet. She quickly avoided Gladys's gaze. "I don't like Dean!" She insists, crossing her legs. Her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn't like Dean.

"Mmmhhh. Sure you don't," Gladys replied with a roll of her eyes.

She sighed, looking out to the orchard again. The apples were all red and crisp. Gladys had mentioned going out to pick some to make a pie soon. She had offered to help the older woman. It's not like she had anything better to do.

It felt like her father kept her under lock and key. He refuses to let her go on any hunts with him. He's taken her a handful of times, but she always gets forced to stay in the motel room. The one time she snuck out to help, she was grounded. Now she wasn't even allowed to stay at the motel rooms!

It wasn't like she could go into town to make friends like a normal kid. Her family was considered the towns outcasts. People gave her weird looks of she ventured into town. Eventually, she learned to keep her head down.

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Her father had been out of town for a couple of days. He was working a case on the other side of the state, down in Edgemont. So, she was left to answer the phones and help any hunters looking for lore.

She was sitting in her father's office, reading through book after book. The phones had been silent for a while. She was about to go see Gladys whenever the regular phone started ringing. She frowned as she walked across the room to the landline.

She picked up the phone and put it to her ear, "Singer residence. Who's calling?"

"You weren't answering your cell," said a deep voice.

A small smile formed on her face. She would recognize that voice anywhere. It has been a few weeks since the last time she had seen Dean. Both of them had been busy.

"It's up in my room. I've been busy in dads office," She replied. She had noticed the hunt of concern in his voice. It made her stomach flutter. Maybe Gladys had been right.

"I'm a few hours away from your house. We were passing through Edgemont and found your dad," Dean explained. "My dad's staying to help him wrap up the case. And, uh, Sammy wants to help too."

Dean would be coming to see her. Alone.

The thought made a light blush creep up on her neck and cheeks. She knew she was being a bit delusional though. There was no way in hell that Dean liked her back. She probably wasn't even his type.

He was older and more attractive. He might only be two years older but right now it felt like twenty years. Anxiety curled up in her gut. She wanted him to like her, even if that was unreasonable.

"You still there?" Dean asked her. She had been silent ever since he had told her that he was on his way.

"Uh, yeah! S-sorry," She replied quickly. "I guess I'll see you in a few hours." And with that, she slammed the phone back down on the receiver. She wiped her now sweaty palms on her jean shorts.

Could she have been anymore awkward?

She kept herself buried in books for the next few hours. If anything could ease her anxiety then more books could. It was comforting to read them. They all reminded her of her childhood. She thought back to whenever she had thought that the books were only stories.

A small part of her was thankful that her father had lied. Even if she had isolated and alone, she had gotten to be a kid. She hadn't grown up knowing that the monster under her bed was real.

As she was grabbing a new lore book from one of the piles next to the staircase, she heard a cars engine. She placed the book back in the pile before running to the window. A small formed on her face as she saw the Impala.

Dean had finally arrived. Every second that she had spent waiting on him had quite literally felt like an eternity. It wasn't often that she was able to have a friend. She told herself that's why she's excited to see Dean. She ignored Gladys's words from earlier.

She didn't have a crush on Dean. No, that was ridiculous. She wasn't someone Dean would choose. He probably had his pick of any girl he wanted. Why would he settle for her? She was weird as hell.

The second Dean knocked on the door she practically threw the door open. It had been a few weeks since the last time they had seen each other. She stepped back from the door so that Dean could step inside.

"How was the drive?" She asked, there wasn't anything better for her to say. Her mind has practically gone blank at this point.

Dean stepped into the house before shutting the front door behind him. He looked as handsome as ever. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach.

"It was fine," Dean replied casually. "Your dad still won't let you hunt with him?" He asked with an amused smirk.

He thought that part was ridiculous. He had seen her with a shotgun. She was a damn good shot. Bobby keeping her on lock down made no sense. His own father had let him help with hunting as soon as he was old enough to shoot straight.

"Still grounded," She replied sourly.

"You'll be eighteen before you know it," Dean pointed out.

Even though he had already turned eighteen he still followed John around. He probably would until Sam was old enough to go with him. He wouldn't leave his brother with his father. He refused. Sam needed him. He had barely been willing to leave his brother with their father to visit her. But, he had really wanted to see her. Alone.

She sighed. Only two more years.

The pair made small talk for a while. Dean told her about the recent hunts he had went on with his father and Sam. She told Dean about possible weaknesses for some monsters she had read about. He agreed to try a few, if he found a way to do it safely. John would be pissed if he got hurt doing something stupid.

After an hour, the landline began to ring. She frowned before walking over to answer it. It would either be her father or Gladys. She hoped it was her father. He always let too much time go inbetween phone calls. She knew how dangerous his job was. Sometimes it was nice to know that he was okay with more than a quick text or email.

She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. Before she had a chance to greet the caller, a familiar voice began speaking. Well, more of demanding.

"I saw that damn car go down the street whenever I was checking my mail," Gladys said quickly. "If you and that boy come pick some apples, I'll bake a pie."

Dean gave her a curios look, unable to hear the voice on the other end of the phone. He wondered if it was either John or Bobby. Maybe even Sam. He doubted his dad would bother to call unless the older man needed something.

"Sure thing Gladys," She said into the phone with a small smile. Apple picking was something she enjoyed. Growing up Gladys would send her into the orchard with a little wicker basket, and a promise of a fresh apple pie.

She said her goodbyes to the older woman before hanging up. Glancing out the window, she noticed that it was almost sunset. It should have cooled down some since she had been over at Gladys's.

"Um, that was the neighbor. Gladys," She began. "She asked if we could go pick some apples at her orchard. She said she'd make a pie if we did."

"Pie?" Dean replied with a smile. He would do anything for a good slice of pie. The thought of a slice of homemade pie made his mouth water.

She let out a small laugh at Dean's reaction. She had known he would agree. Dean had always loved pie. It hadn't taken her long to figure that one out.

Dean grabbed the keys to Baby out of his pocket and began walking towards the door. She hurried to grab her cellphone off the counter before running out the door after him.

"Can I drive?" She asked, almost teasingly.

"Over my dead body," Was Dean's quick reply as he opened the driver's side door.

She had expected that. Dean was very overprotective of the Impala. It had been worth a shot though. She had mainly done it just to mess with him. Plus, it would have been cool to drive the car. She had just gotten her license, she'd only driven on her own a handful of times.

It was safe to say that she wasn't the world's greatest driver.

She hurried to open the passenger door before climbing in. She then carefully shut the door. Dean started the car and began driving down the road. She leaned back in her seat. It was peaceful. The soft hum of Metallica was the only noise in the vehicle. Until she spoke.

"It's about two and a half miles down the street. You'll see her driveway," She said to Dean so that he would know where he was driving.

Dean nodded, but didn't give a verbal reply. Driving was the most relaxed she had ever seen Dean. It was definitely something she noticed.

After a couple of minutes, Gladys's driveway came into view. An old red mailbox made it stick out. Well, that and the collection of gnomes surrounding the mailbox.

It wasn't long before the Impala was parked a few feet away from the house. Gladys was waiting at the foot of the porch, an old wicker basket in her hands.

She opened the door before practically jumping out of the car. She walked over the to Gladys and grabbed the basket with a smile. Gladys gave a mischievous smirk before looking between Dean and her. Gladys raised an eyebrow.

"You must be Dean," The older woman said before shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Dean looked almost nervous under Gladys's gaze. He felt like every inch of his skin was being out under a microscope.

The older woman finally gave him an approving smile. "You two have fun in the orchard."

She began walking towards the apple trees. After a few yards, she felt Dean's presence. Looking over her shoulder she noticed that he was practically walking at her side.

The apple trees were all beginning to flourish. Juicy red apples weighed down the branches. But, she kept walking further into the orchard. The best apple trees were further out. Well, and her favorite one was further out.

It was the tree that she used to sit under and read sometimes. She had spent quite a bit of time out in the orchards growing up, and still did. She remembered whenever she was young and still clueless. Before a weight was placed on her shoulders.

She now knew what she would do whenever she grew up. It felt like she had no other option. She wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that people were being killed by super creatures. People she could save.

"What are you looking for?" Dean's voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned around a little bit so that she could face him.

"The best tree," She replied without missing a beat.

Dean let out a sigh but kept walking.

The air was much cooler than it had been whenever she had sat on Gladys's porch, drinking sweet tea. It was nice to have someone like Gladys to span with. The older woman have good advice.

A tree that was larger than the rest came into view. The apples on it's branches were a deep shade of red. They all looked crisp and juicy. She stopped walking a few feet from it and set the wicker basket down.

"This one."

She walks over to one of the low hanging branches and picked a bright red apple. She held it up, showing it off to Dean. He chuckled at the way she beamed. She was proud of the perfect apple she had picked.

"You're kind of cute right now," Dean said as he picked an apple before placing it in the basket. Realizing what he said, his nerves spiked.

She had a similar reaction. Her cheeks looked about as red as one of the apples now sitting in the basket. She stuttered for a reply and ultimately gave up. Butterflies weren't fluttering in her stomach, no. They felt like a swarm right now.

Dean looked at her with his signature smirk upon seeing her reaction. Oh.

She quickly went back to picking apples. Dean was too nervous to say anything about her reaction, or his admission. He had thought she was cute for a while. How could he not?

Sam had often pointed out how Dean seemed to stare at her. He couldn't help it. She was fucking perfect, and clueless about it. He had wanted her for a while. However, she was Bobby's daughter. The older man would probably shoot Dean for even thinking about his daughter.

The two spent a while in the orchard, picking apples in a comfortable silence.

As she was turning around to place another apple in the now almost full basket, she bumped into Dean. She would have fell if he hadn't wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.

Their faces were mere inches apart. She stared at him with wide eyes and crimson cheeks. Neither one of them moved. They were stuck in this moment.

Until, Dean leaned in closer. His lips were hovering, barely even an inch away from hers. He couldn't keep his eyes off her lips. He brushed a piece of hair out of her face.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly.

Instead of replying, she pressed her lips to his. At least her first kiss would be nice. She wrapped her arms around Dean's neck and let her fingers gently tug on the hair at the nape of his neck.

Dean groaned into this kiss, his lips pulling away from hers for a second. He looked down at her. He admired her pink cheeks and wide eyes. It was obvious by her nerves that she hadn't done that before.

He knew a bit about her lack of a social life. He had overheard Bobby talking to his dad about it. The older man has been concerned about his daughters refusal to try and make friends. Dean thought that there was more to the story.

She pulled Dean closer again, kissing him. Their lips moved together in tandem. Dean pressed her against the apple tree behind them. As the kiss broke, she leaned her head back.

Dean's lips softly kissed her neck. He was careful not to leave any marks. Bobby would kill him if he came home and saw a hockey on her neck. Dean would be the obvious culprit, and a dead man walking.

His eyes did linger on the soft curves of her breasts. He was only able to see a little bit with her shirt on. He debated asking to take it off, but decided that that would be something he could save for later. Maybe for whenever he wasn't kissing her in the middle of an apple orchard.

She felt Dean's lips leave her skin. She looked back at him and his hand went to her hair as he kissed her again. She smiled into the kiss.

After a minute, she pulled away. "We should probably get the apples to Gladys. . ." She said. The older woman would know what had happened. It was obvious. Her hair was now a mess and so was Dean's. Not to mention how both of their cheeks were flushed.

Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, yeah. We probably should." He leaned forward quickly and left a quick kiss on her lips before jogging towards the house.

She mumbled a curse before grabbing the basket of apples and running off after him.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Leave a reblog or comment if you enjoyed it. And lastly, thank you to @scott-is-now-online for helping me with some of the dialogue.

Taglist: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @lmhf1 @espressovz @illicithallways @tranquilitybasegrunge

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[f1-stuff]

Girl dad Carlos please! I miss that fic so much 🥲

Okay. So.

I mustered up the energy to write a little vignette of this AU bc I also miss it and bc I didn't want to leave you two hanging! This is skipping ahead quite a bit to halfway through the season, but I'm still planning on writing and fleshing out that portion. I've just known for a while that this was gonna be an important part of the story and that I could jump into writing it right away!

It will probably be edited and adjusted for when the actual chapter is posted on ao3, but this is the 'rough draft' I guess! (Disclaimer: I know zero French and I haven’t had someone look over that bit yet!)

Anyway, enjoyyyy...

When there’s a knock on his door about two weeks into the summer break, his brain doesn’t compute for a full minute after he’s opened it.

Because why would Charles, his teammate, be here? In Spain? At his apartment? During their summer holiday, when they’re supposed to be ignoring any and all people and things related to F1, recharging their batteries, and remembering there’s more to life than racing cars? He and Charles have barely ever even texted during the summer break, let alone seen one another. So, again, why would Charles be at his front door.

Also, he’s a bit sleep deprived and delirious, so there’s every chance he’s hallucinating this.

“Uh...” he says, rather eloquently.

“Hey,” Charles says. And there’s a tentative smile on his face that Carlos can’t even begin to parse the meaning of. His brain isn’t just one step behind, it’s five steps. “Can...I come in?”

“Oh.” Again. Eloquent, Sainz. “Eh- yeah. Yes. Come in.”

“Sorry to stop by without a warning,” Charles is saying. But Carlos is too busy looking around in barely disguised panic at the absolute trash heap that is his home.

It’s not that he didn’t realize how much of a mess the apartment was before, but he sees it now through Charles’ eyes and feels a little like curling up and dying. There are bowls of half eaten food and dirty dishes piled in and around the sink. Various toys, games, books, and drawings are strewn over almost every surface, along with clothes (mostly socks, so many socks) littering the floor. Boxes and boxes of Lucy’s things that he hasn’t had time to sort through are stacked against the walls and in the corners. One of the only exposed walls by the couch has colorful marker all over it, Ana having done that particular masterpiece when he’d accidentally nodded off during Peppa Pig. (He’d been too tired to even properly get angry about it, which was perhaps a bad precedent to set if he didn’t want a repeat performance.)

It looks like a tornado has swept through his apartment. A tornado named Ana.

Not that Charles is much neater on a good day, and he doesn’t even have a kid as an excuse. But Carlos has a feeling that if this is the current state of his apartment, the state of his own appearance is probably no better. He hasn’t properly showered, shaved, or slept in days, and he doesn’t think he’s looked in the mirror in all that time either. For all he knows, he’s still got remnants of the braids Ana put in his hair yesterday. He certainly can’t remember taking them out...

Charles, on the other hand, looks fresh and groomed and sunkissed - everything Carlos would expect during the summer break.

He smells good, he thinks, unbidden. Then, immediately, Stop it.

Charles takes in the space around them, his eyes eventually settling on Carlos with an amused (and maybe slightly concerned) expression. But just as he’s opening his mouth to speak, there’s the sound of the bathroom door opening down the hall and the smattering of tiny feet running across the floor, before Ana declares in her tiny, yet surprisingly bold voice, “I didn’t have a diarrhea!”

Carlos doesn’t even have enough shame left to be embarrassed by his kid. His first instinct is just relief.

“Stomach virus,” he mumbles to Charles, by way of explanation. Then, to Ana, in Spanish, “That’s great, mi niña! Did you wash your hands?”

“Yeeeees!”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Good, because we, eh- we have a guest!”

It’s quiet for a moment, before Ana’s head pokes around the corner slowly. But her face lights up as soon as she sees who it is.

“Cha!” she shouts, but then immediately looks embarrassed by her own show of excitement.

“Coucou, Ana,” Charles says, amused. He kneels down and encourages Ana closer, accepting the tentative hug she gives him.

No matter how much they had bonded last time, it’s still been a while since they’ve seen one another, and some of Ana’s shyness has clearly returned. Still, it’s huge that she’s even initiated a hug, and Carlos feels a telltale twinge in his sternum at the image they both make.

“As-tu été bon pour papa?” Charles asks, cuffing her gently on the chin. Ana grins and nods. “J'ai un cadeau pour toi.”

Charles reaches into a bag that Carlos hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying until he’d set it down to hug Ana, and he pulls out a pink rectangular thing, that Carlos squints in confusion at for a beat. He realizes what it is simultaneously with Charles’ next words.

“C'est une caméra. Pour que tu prennes des photos de ton papa.”

It’s a pink camera for kids, a unicorn adorning the front where the lens peeks out. Carlos almost rolls his eyes - of course Charles, with his recent photography kick, gifts his kid a camera. But the way Ana’s expression transforms with wonder as Charles demonstrates to her how it works is pretty precious.

Charles hands it over to her and she immediately points it at him. He pulls a silly expression, making her giggle. They both examine the photo, heads bowed close. Ana points it up at Carlos next.

“¡Sonríe, papá!”

He sticks out his tongue and her little finger presses the capture button. The joy on her face as the photo pops up on the screen, tilting it to show them even though it’s upside down, fills Carlos with so much warmth and love that he legitimately almost tears up.

God, he’s so freaking tired.

Ana bounds off to her room to gather her stuffed toys to take a ‘family picture,’ and Charles straightens back up, smile lingering on his cheeks even after Ana has disappeared down the hall.

Carlos wants to kiss him so bad. Becoming a father has turned him into such a sap.

“Ehm,” he clears his throat. “Thank you. That was- a nice gift.”

“No problems.”

“You know, you don’t have to buy her something every time you see her,” he says, humor lacing his words.

“I want to,” Charles insists, simply. They smile awkwardly for an extended beat, listening to the sounds of Ana down the hall in her room, talking to her animals. Charles’ eyes stray to his hair. “You have...something in your hair. Is that a braid-?”

“What are you doing here, Charles?” he asks, choosing to ignore the comment. “I thought you would be in Corsica, or somewhere.”

“I was. But I heard you and Ana had to cancel on the trip to Mallorca and-”

“Heard, how?” Charles looks sheepish, triggering his suspicion. So he repeats it. “Heard, how, Charles?”

“Your mum texted me-” 

He sighs, eyes shutting briefly in frustration. He wishes his mom would just stay out of this whole- thing with Charles. But, clearly, she knew he wouldn’t accept help from anyone else. And that he wouldn’t be able to turn Charles away…

“She didn’t tell me to come,” Charles rushes to say. “She was just worried because you refused to let her stay and help, and that you hadn’t found a sitter, or someone, yet. So I just offered-”

“Charles, please...” He breaks off with another sigh, rubbing his temples to stave off the oncoming headache. But it’s already too late, if the subtle pulsating pain, slowly increasing in intensity, is anything to go by. “You should not have come.”

“Carlos, don’t be stupid,” he scoffs. “Anyway, I am here.” And he supposes that’s true. Nothing can be done about it now. “You look tired.”

He huffs a small laugh, dropping his hands from his temples to meet Charles’ gaze.

“This is what someone looks like when their kid catches a stomach virus and then they catch that same virus from their kid, just when their kid is starting to feel better-”

“Why didn’t you let your mum help-?”

“I’m her dad,” he interrupts, breathing hard. But he softens his voice with his next words. “I can do this on my own. I just wanted to...”

He doesn’t really know how to finish that sentence, though. It sounds stubborn and stupid when he starts to say it out loud. None of this should be about him. It’s about Ana. And if he’d really needed help, he should’ve asked for it. For her.

Charles seems to know that he doesn’t have to say it - that Carlos is already thinking it. So, instead, he just claps a hand to his shoulder and squeezes.

“I think,” he says, “-you should get some rest.”

“Charles-”

“No, I’m serious. Go to your room, Mister Sainz.” A slow grin pulls over his features. And along with the genuine concern in his eyes, it’s almost enough to break through Carlos’ resolve. “You are exhausted. Ana will be fine - I will watch her. Just...rest for a minute. Okay? You don’t look like yourself.”

And he knows that must be true. He knows that he needs a lot more than just a few hours of sleep to feel somewhere close to normal again (a shower would be a good start). But it’s hard to even think of himself when he’s been so worried about Ana for days - researching how to get her fever to die down, trying to get her to drink fluids, watching her fitful face in sleep, his heart in his throat despite how the pediatrician had assured him she’d be fine.

But, then, he’d gotten sick, too. And instead of focusing on his own recovery, he’d had to fit in sessions of retching over the toilet in between caring for his kid and making sure she was properly fed. And the two of them had managed, even if it wasn’t ideal. They’d grown closer, he thought, by virtue of her needing him so much.

He couldn’t keep it together forever, though. Eventually, if he didn’t take a break, he’d fall apart completely.

It takes him a stubborn moment, the urge to argue bubbling up inside despite how glorious resting his head on a pillow sounds. But eventually he nods, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you.”

Charles just looks at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “You are welcome, Carlos. Now, go. You look like you are going to fall over at any moment.”

“I feel like I’m going to fall over at any moment.”

Charles laughs under his breath, pushing Carlos’ shoulder gently to aim him toward the hallway. “Well, fall over into bed, then.”

“I’m going,” he insists, letting his tired limbs and the heavy touch of Charles at his shoulder guide him toward his room.

He can deal with how insane this situation is - Charles showing up here, and what the hell it means that he’d come at all - once he’s had some sleep. For now, he’ll happily take it for granted.

He doesn’t even really remember climbing into bed before the exhaustion takes over, his body surrendering to fatigue now that he knows his kid’s in good hands. Trustworthy hands. Charles’ hands.

He thinks he can hear the faint sounds of their French floating down the hallway. It makes him smile with the last vestiges of energy he has left.

God, he is in so over his head.

----

WIP ask game

Link to fic on ao3 -> (x)

[thecreaturecodex]

Kami, Oxter

Image accessed at the Ultraman Wiki here

[I'm back! It's the start of a new school year, so I've been busy busy busy. I do hope to return to my summer schedule of one new monster a week.

And what a monster we start with! Oxter is one of the weirder designs in Return of Ultraman, but has connections to Ultra kaiju before and after. The plot of the episode, and Oxter's acidic powers, feels a lot like Stegon, who I've already statted up here. And the same author who wrote this episode wrote an episode of Ultraman Ace with another bovine kaiju, Cowra. The Cowra episode is notable not for the powers or appearance of the kaiju, which are fairly sedate by the standards of Ultraman Ace. But the way a character turns slowly into Cowra feels like it started out as transformation fetish porn, and then was repurposed into a kid's show about a giant silver alien/angel who punches monsters. The "writer's barely disguised fetish" trope goes way back.]

Kami, Oxter CR 19 N Outsider (native) This creature’s head resembles that of a cow, but its anatomy otherwise bears little resemblance to ordinary animals. It is bipedal, with a thick slug-like tail and stumpy legs. Its back has a high bony hump, and its head is set low on its shoulders. Instead of arms, it has large red horns, which articulate on jointed stumps. Its ears stick out at a wide angle, and a ribbon-like tongue flickers in its tusked mouth

An oxter is a bizarre kami that guards a site of mass animal death and protects their remains from desecration and disrespect. They can be found in any natural environment, from tar pits and volcanic craters to water holes that had dried up at an inopportune time. Oxters do not care much for the reasons their ward might be disturbed and respond to any disturbances with violence. From wizards seeking out supplies for necromancy or golem construction, to scientists studying the natural processes that occurred at the site, all are likely to find themselves subject to the oxter’s destructive scrutiny.

Oxters are slow and cumbersome on land, but they are surprisingly mobile in the water. As such, they often remain stationary and probe out disturbances using their supernaturally long tongues, which can extend for hundreds of feet. These tongues are coated in corrosive saliva, and anyone who gets close to an oxter will be sprayed by a torrent of acid. An oxter’s melee weapons are its horns, which are capable of surprising mobility and can strike repeatedly at multiple targets as if they were swords. Oxters have few spell-like abilities in comparison to other kami, but can use magic to move through impeding terrain or to smite interlopers in a particularly desperate battle. An oxter will fight to the death to protect their ward.

Because of their association with mass mortality events, oxters and stegons can be found in association with each other. Stegons are the only undead creatures oxters will tolerate, and the kami see such assemblages as a natural consequence of particularly serious disturbances. Oxters will permit other creatures to live in their wards, even sapient ones, as long as they respect the peace of the dead who lie there. They rarely associate with other kami unless their wards overlap, but in such cases the oxters tend to defer to their more intelligent kin, even if they are much physically weaker.

Kami, Oxter CR 19 XP 204,800 N Colossal outsider (kami, native) Init +9; Senses blindsense 60 ft., darkvision 60 ft., Perception +26

Defense AC 34, touch 7, flat-footed 29(-8 size, +5 Dex, +27 natural) hp 330 (20d10+220); fast healing 15 Fort +19, Ref +19, Will +17 DR 15/cold iron and magic; Immune acid,bleed, mind-influencing effects, petrifaction, polymorph; Resist electricity 10, fire 10; SR 30

Offense Speed 40 ft., swim 80 ft. Melee gore +26/+21/+16/+11 (4d6+13), bite +24 (4d6+6 plus 2d6 acid) or gore +24/+24/+19/+19/+14/+14/+9 (4d6+13), bite +24 (4d6+6 plus 2d6 acid) or tongue +26 (2d8+13 plus 4d6 acid plus grab) Space 30 ft.; Reach 30 ft. (20 ft. with bite, 60 ft. with tongue) Special Attacks breath weapon (120 ft. cone, 20d6 acid, Ref DC 31, 1d4 rounds), constrict (2d8+19 plus 4d6 acid), extensible tongue (AC 23, 33 hp), trample (2d8+19, Ref DC 33) Spell-like Abilities CL 19th, concentration +23 3/day—commune with nature, freedom of movement, undeath to death (DC 21) 1/day—quickened divine power

Statistics Str 36, Dex 21, Con 32, Int 9, Wis 20, Cha 21Base Atk +20; CMB +41 (+45 grab); CMD 56 Feats Blind Fight, Double Slice, Great Fortitude, Greater Two-Weapon Fighting, Improved Initiative, Improved Two-Weapon Fighting, Multiattack, Quicken SLA (divine power), Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Focus (gore) Skills Knowledge (nature) +16, Perception +26, Sense Motive +22, Survival +22, Swim +37; Racial Bonuses +4 Perception, +4 Swim Languages Senzar, telepathy 100 ft. SQ articulated horns, merge with ward, ward (animal graveyard of 4 square km or less)

Ecology Environment any Organization solitary Treasure incidental

Special Abilities Horns (Ex) The horns of an oxter are capable of making iterative attacks as if they were manufactured weapons. An oxter can fight with both horns in the same turn as if using two manufactured weapons (and most oxters take Two Weapon Fighting and other feats for this purpose). In any round in which an oxter makes a melee attack with its articulated horns, it treats its other natural weapons as secondary natural attacks. Extensible Tongue (Ex/Su) An oxter treats its tongue as a primary natural attack that deals bludgeoning damage. It can make attacks with a reach of 60 feet ordinarily, but if the oxter spends a move action, it can extend its tongue 60 feet. It can continue to spend move actions to keep extending its tongue at a rate of 60 feet per round to a maximum of 1200 feet long. The tongue can attack around corners and even enter buildings; if the oxter cannot see what it’s attacking, the tongue can use the oxter’s blindsense. An oxter cannot use its tongue as a weapon in a round where it attacks with other natural weapons. The oxter’s tongue has hit points equal to 1/10 the oxter, and an AC of 10 + ½ the oxter’s natural armor bonus. It uses the oxter’s saving throws, resistances and immunities if attacked separately. The oxter’s tongue can make Stealth checks as a Medium creature, and is five feet in diameter. If an oxter’s tongue is reduced to 0 hp, it is shed, and the oxter grows a new tongue over the course of the next 24 hours.

[jebewonmorelike]

So You Can Do Yours

part two up now: whatever you say, president-nim wc: 2k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: none? i guess reader is not on good terms with father but to be fair their father is a chairman of a company so he probably is objectively not great; literally fluff and mostly platonic/you're his boss so but suggestion that wookie has a crush on reader at the end... and reader is supposed to be 19; super unrealistic but just a fun little fictional concept lol summary: uselessCEO!reader has fired every new assistant they've had in the past few months, but newassistant!gunwook thinks he might be the right man for the job. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ this is a cute one :) gunwook is baby. gunwook is son. protect him at all costs. i've been wanting to write more for gunwookie for a while, but i was super hesitant to because i got a really freakish comment about the only small drabble i wrote for him. so five months later i'm ready to try again. please remember this is just a work of fiction and its crazy fluffy. i really hope you like it! also expect more writing from me this month-- i'm taking the rest of summer off from school so. i'll need to stay busy 😤

“President-nim?” A voice calling through the intercom on your desk breaks your concentration. You huff annoyedly as you lean forward and press the microphone button.

“What is it?”

“Your new assistant is here to meet you,” Secretary Lee responds cautiously. You groan; quickly shoving what you had been working on into the hidden compartment of your desk. Not another assistant.

Every Monday for two months now, a new bright-eyed young woman had walked through the doors of your office ready to kick-start her career as a company president's trusty assistant. And sure enough, by that Friday afternoon every single one of them had run out in tears; unable to handle the pressures of the job. Was that pressure almost entirely due to the fact that you had no idea how to do your own job? Unimportant, but--

“Annyeonghaseyo, President-nim!” A male voice shakes you from your internal monologue as you look up to find that a young man in a 90 degree bow has appeared in front of you. He looks up at you, his gaze drifting to your right hand. 

You follow his line of sight to find a watercolor brush still in your hand-- dripping a bit onto your desk. Lifting up your desk compartment slightly, you toss the brush in with the others. You clear your throat a bit awkwardly-- smoothing down the lapels of your suit jacket with your fingers. “Annyeonghaseyo,” you mumble.

“I’m your new assistant, Park Gunwook,” he introduces politely, standing up straight. It’s now that you suddenly realize just how young this man appears to be. His face is round with youth and his lips resemble that of a baby chick. “I hope to serve you well.”

“When? After you get out of school each day?” You joke, brow furrowed in suspicion. “How did you get this job, huh? You look like you’re late for hagwon.”

Gunwook’s brow stays raised for a moment, but a surprisingly cheeky smile eventually creeps onto his face. “Couldn’t I ask you the same, President-nim?”

You exhale an unamused laugh. Guess this one thinks he’s clever. “I graduated two and a half years early.”

“That must look impressive on a resume,” he agrees genuinely with a nod. “Your father being the Chairman of the Board also must look pretty impressive on a resume.”

Stunned by this kid’s audacity, you just stare back at him.

“Nothing to be ashamed of President-nim,” he reassures, clasping his hands together behind his back. “I happen to know someone that works here, too.”

Figures. “And which one of those geriatric, good-for-nothing money bags on the Board is your daddy?”

“None of them,” Gunwook says with a smile. “Secretary Lee is my eomma. Might seem small, but a connection’s a connection.”

Secretary Lee hired her own son? After the way she’d watched all of the sobbing girls run out of the building screaming ‘I’M NEVER WORKING EVER AGAIN’’ each week?

What terrible thing had Park Gunwook done to be handed such a fate by his own mother?

You stand up from your desk and meet Gunwook at the front of it. Walking in a tight circle around him, you examine every inch of him curiously as he stands at attention.

“Um, President-nim?” He asks without moving a muscle. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely not,” you answer, bending down to look at his dress shoes. They’re more than a few years old and definitely not a designer brand, but somehow... they’re condition is nearly immaculate. Not to mention, the black, thin laces are tied in perfectly symmetrical bows. Huh. It’s pretty uncommon for a boy your age to care that much about the tidiness of his shoes.

“Weirdo,” you mutter under your breath as you stand back up. You have to crane your neck a bit to look Gunwook in the eyes; not only is he quite tall, you also realized you’re standing a bit too close to him. Stepping back slightly, you take a seat on your desk-- crossing your arms as you glare at him.

“Something not to your liking, President-nim?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you ask a question of your own. “What makes you think you have what it takes to be my assistant?”

“I’ve been President of my class since middle school. I’ve placed in national debate competitions. I’m organized, responsible, and competent,” he responds confidently. But a little mischievous sparkle appears in his eye as he adds, “From what I’ve heard, those are qualities the President's office might need more of.”

“YA! Do you want to die, you little--...” As you threaten him, Gunwook has already gone back to his default polite smiling. “What’s wrong with you, huh? Don’t you know I can blacklist you for life with one phone call? Tell me why I shouldn’t--.”

“President-nim!” Gunwook interrupts your thought excitedly; pointing to a stack of papers sitting on the corner of your desk. “Are those spreadsheets that need executive review? I’m experienced in Excel if you're... too busy for them.”

You frown, picking up the papers in your hand and sifting through them. They are spreadsheets that need executive review. You’ve been putting it off for a week, because, believe it or not, you didn’t get a very spreadsheet-centric education at the fine arts university you attended. To think, you could be painting in your own studio all day every day. But instead your father wanted you to do something “sensible” and “respectable” that “made you worthy of receiving his estate some day”.

Not that you cared much about an inheritance. But at this point it was the least you were owed for sacrificing your life’s passion to goof off in an office for the rest of your life. It wasn’t like you particularly enjoyed being unhelpful or unproductive, but at just shy of twenty years old with a BA in Fine Arts... you hadn’t exactly been well-prepared for such an important job.

You look back up at Gunwook. He’s practically salivating at the mouth to get his hands on your routine paperwork. You hand him the stack of spreadsheets with a sigh: “Knock yourself out.”

Gunwook’s concerningly large hand snatches the papers from yours with lightning speed; hugging them to his chest happily. “Thank you, President-nim! I won’t let you down.”

You’re almost starting to believe him. 

“Right,” you agree, chewing your cheek as you walk back behind your desk. “Well, you get to work on those and have them back to me by... Uh...”

You’re struggling to think of a reasonable time frame for the spreadsheet reviews to be completed, since you’d never once been the one to finish them. Gunwook sees this and answers for you, “Tomorrow at noon, I think you were going to say, President-nim?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” you echo with a frown. You’re not sure you like how familiar this kid was becoming with you already, but at least he’d been far more eager to do your executive work for you than anyone had been thus far. You’d know by tomorrow at noon if he was truly capable or not.

“And where should I put them for you if you’re not in your office, President-nim?” He asks thoughtfully.

“Oh, um,” you stumble, looking around for a good spot. You land on the thin drawer at the center of your desk and point to it. “In here is fine.”

Gunwook quickly walks behind your desk to see the drawer, stopping at a respectful distance. He reaches towards the drawer, but when you realize his fingers are pulling the wrong handle-- the top of your desk is already lifting open before you can stop him.

“Whoah,” the boy whispers in awe as he stares at the giant watercolor landscape painting you’d been working on for the last week or so. You both stand in silence for a moment as you watch Gunwook take in every detail of your latest work. “This is incredible.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly-- folding your arms across your chest uncomfortably at the compliment. No one had seen your artwork for a while now; even mentioning it in your father’s presence sent him into a spiral.

“If you’re this talented, then why--... Why are you the president of a tech corporation?” He asks, eyes meeting yours now. He’s curious and concerned and confused. When he realizes he forgot to speak formally, he bows in apology. “I’m sorry, President-nim.”

“Sometimes a 'connection' isn’t what you wanted,” you say after a moment, sitting back down in your desk chair.

Gunwook swallows from beside you, taking a few steps back to the front of your desk. “I’ll help as best as I can, President-nim. I’ll do my work so that you can do yours.”

You blink back at him, a bit speechless. “O-... Okay.”

He bows, another 90 degree one. “Should I get started on these then, President-nim?”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding slowly. “Yes. That would be good.”

Gunwook nods. “Thank you, President-nim,” he says, turning and walking towards the door.

“Gunwook-sshi,” you call suddenly, causing the young man to let go of the door handle in his hand and turn around. His eyes are wide as he waits patiently for you to continue. “Why did you apply for this job? Besides the fact that your mother works here.”

The boy smiles, answering simply, “I thought I would be a good fit.”

You exhale a laugh, rolling your eyes. “We’ll see.”

Gunwook’s smile turns to a grin as he nods again-- walking out the door and closing it behind him.

~

The end of the work day comes surprisingly quickly (and it may or may not have something to do with Gunwook). 

Okay, it has everything to do with Gunwook. 

To your very pleasant surprise, the teenage boy had been your best assistant yet by a considerable margin. All in the span of six hours, he’d color-coded your weekly schedule, ghostwritten five urgent emails to executives from partner companies, brought you your lunch order exactly how you prefer it, and reorganized your entire desk for you all while you painted next to him.

He didn’t ask you any unnecessary questions or disturb your peace; he just did his work so that you could do yours. Just like he said he would.

The end of the day came so quickly that when Gunwook knocked on your door to ask you if you were heading out for the day, you thought he was making one of his insulting-but-somehow-also-charming remarks about your lack of presidential work ethic again. But glancing at the clock, you see that he’s right-- it’s almost 7 P.M.

“I’m actually gonna keep working for a little while longer,” you respond before you catch Gunwook’s eyebrows raise. “You can go home now though. You have to be well-rested for another day of high school tomorrow.”

He sticks his tongue in his cheek and smiles at the joke. “I actually go to university now, President-nim. Part-time, but still.”

You find yourself trying to picture what Gunwook would look like on a campus: a grey hoodie, jeans, and his hair flopping into his eyes. In another life, one where you had a different father, maybe you’d still be going to university, too. Maybe you would've run into Gunwook and been his sunbae instead of the Guinness World Records holder for youngest president of a national corporation. Would you have noticed each other? Would you have been friends? Rivals? Something else?

Returning his smile, you dismiss, “Have a good night, Gunwook-sshi.”

“Have a good night, President-nim.”

You work on your painting for another hour before finally gathering your things and heading out the door for the night. On your way out, you see Secretary Lee typing away at her desk. When she spots you, she grimaces nervously.

“Oh, President-nim,” she greets as you walk over to her. “I hope you’re not too upset, but I thought that my son could--.”

“Could be the best assistant I’ve ever had?” You finish for her; watching as her face relaxes at your compliment. “You were right. And you better keep up the good work, Secretary Lee: Gunwook-sshi would make a great secretary.”

Secretary Lee swallows and nods at the hint of a threat. “Understood, President-nim.”

You smile, starting to head toward the exit before your curiosity stops you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to call, “Secretary-nim?”

She looks at you expectantly; if not also a bit nervously.

“Why did Gunwook-sshi want to be my assistant?”

She considers for a moment before replying, “After your... poor luck... with assistants these past few months, I couldn’t help but think my son had what it takes to change that. He’s always been such an overachiever. But he wasn’t really interested at all at first."

“Why did he change his mind?” You ask; wanting to understand a bit more about the incredibly competent, but slightly odd assistant that showed up at your office today.

Secretary Lee laughs quietly. “Well, to be honest... He only handed me his completed application after...

... I showed him a picture of you.”

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien New SR Top Up Karma + Date Blurb

"I just want to capture the most heart-stirring sweetness of this summer from your eyes."

"Countless lucks in this world will come to you on their own accord."

Date blurbs under the cut!

[Sweet Dream Date]

As I dream about desserts day and night, I unexpectedly receive an invitation to sample the dishes at my dream store.

As we explore the store together, every dessert surprisingly matches my taste…

These strokes of luck might have been a "long-planned scheme" by a certain Mr. Fox.

Or perhaps, like the sunset at the horizon, it becomes more enduring because we are witnessing it together.

Under the perfect conditions of time, place, and people, I go on a date with Lucien to my long-desired pop-up dessert shop, only to discover after the date that all the "luck" seems to have been carefully planned by him.....

-

"Just when the sweet dream was at its best, I realized you weren't by my side…"

I place the freshly poured water on his desk and glance at his screen groggily. It seems to be an email in Spanish.

I sigh softly and snuggle into his arms.

"Professor Lucien, is your recent research workload heavy?"

"It's okay, I'm almost done with it."

He takes off his glasses, his jaw gently brushing against the crook of my neck, speaking in a soft tone.

"Do you have any plans for this weekend? How about going out for a walk?"

His warm breath sprays on the skin of my neck, causing fine, tingling itchiness that feels like a rising temptation.

I gently massage his head along his hair, again and again, with feelings of distress spilling from my fingertips.

"Going out is also quite tiring. Since you're rarely free, let's just stay at home together~"

Lucien gently grasps my hand, his tone tinged with a bit of grievance.

"But I've been busy for so long, I also want to go out for a walk."

"I wonder if this little lady would be willing to fulfill my little wish?"

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Most-Listened of May 2024

[last month]

May 2024 was finals + road trip home from uni + getting settled in at home for the summer, so the songs on this month's list were the soundtrack to a really busy time for me. (Because of that, I'm extra grateful to them for helping me power through it all!) I didn't have the brainspace to be properly excited about any new releases (except Repion's at the end of the month), so a lot of the songs here kind of snuck up on me. Surprisingly, I'd still say I enjoyed May's releases more than April's, though!

1. Not Like Us -- Kendrick Lamar

The Drake-Kendrick beef finally graced my YouTube recommended at the beginning of May, just in time for "Not Like Us" to save me from the Inevitable Finals Gloom. The beat was what hooked me at first (so string instrument!! so texture!!), but there are SO MANY good lines here--more than enough to keep me excited about this song, even after I massively overplayed it in just a few days of finals. (I'm a 'leave songs on repeat for hours as I float in and out of The Work Vortex' kind of guy, you know?)

2. Candy Store -- from the 2014 Heathers soundtrack

No complicated reason here: the vocal performances are just breathtaking, so I haven't been able to get this song off my mind for the past two weeks. Shoutout to @embraceofday for introducing me to this one! (That was a couple of years ago, I think, but somehow it came back to me recently, and I've been more obsessed than ever!)

3. Anthems For A Seventeen Year-Old Girl -- yeule

I've been getting ads for I Saw the TV Glow all month, and they worked on me--sort of? I still have no plans to see the movie, but this song from the trailer has taken my listening by storm. Lyzette G on YouTube mentioned yeule last year (I am SO jealous of their taste in music), so I'm proud to say I like a yeule song now! This is peak 'driving home on the highway at night and your heart is all sparkles because she said she'll text you later', which is one of my favorite kinds of music, actually. (Yes, this is oddly specific. But it's also like A General Feeling, you know?) It's eerily inhuman but also full of longing; it keeps a consistent, hazy atmosphere while still including a few moments of emotional punch--it's great!!

4. Down Swinging -- Holly Humberstone

Saxophone solo!!!!!!! That actually isn't my favorite part of this song, though--the way Holly Humberstone sings "watch me keep my cool tonight" at the end of every chorus is full of just SO many emotions--shame, determination, acceptance, longing--I find it captivating (really, every lyric in this chorus is a gem). I love songs like this (see also: Betty Who's "You Can Cry Tomorrow" and Lee Hi's "HOLO"), songs that aren't about being over something bad but are just about being within something bad and getting by anyway. Being stuck, and knowing you're stuck, and being okay regardless? Sometimes, I just need to know that's possible, and "Down Swinging" makes it feel more real than ever.

5. I'm the Ocean -- Neil Young

My dad and I ran across this on our (twelve-hour) drive home from my university, while we were listening through this playlist. My dad is a huge Neil Young fan, while I'm just meh about him--"I'm the Ocean" caught my attention from first listen, though, and I've been revisiting it daily since then. (Funny enough, my dad doesn't care for this one.) I love its haziness, how it walks the line between hopelessness and rage and how you're never exactly sure how to feel about the speaker, or about the song itself. I love singing "I'm the ocean / I'm a giant undertow". (Like, that is a captivating lyric. So powerful, so simple yet so layered with meaning?) I love the crunchy TV-static guitar!!!

6. From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come) [Live at Malieveld...] -- Bruce Springsteen

Spotify keeps notifying me whenever Springsteen releases a new compilation album (they know me too well...)--and he just keeps releasing them. I'm not sure I needed all these albums, but I'm glad to get this gem, at least! This one has a super-singable chorus, and the fiddle solo is SUCH a high.

7. Turn it up -- PinkPantheress

Not particularly exciting, but super fun! It's a solid serotonin jam to go on a playlist with all the early Twice title tracks.

8. No Biggie -- Itzy

SO CUTE SO CUTE I LOVE IT. With "None of My Business" + this one, I've been so glad to see how well the post-NewJeans world suits Itzy. My main problem with a lot of their music, especially title tracks, is that the songs strain their vocals in ways that end up sounding unpleasant to me--a chilled-out song like this one reminds me just how listenable Itzy's music can be!

9. Rollercoaster - MTV Unplugged -- Bleachers

I think Spotify suggested this one to me. I am THE Bleachers girlie, but I'd never heard this specific version of "Rollercoaster" and oh my GOD does it make me emotional. If you've ever cried to "Someone to You" by Banners, I think you already understand what this one makes me feel.

10. The Ghost of Tom Joad (feat. Tom Morello) - Live in Anaheim, CA -- Bruce Springsteen

My #1 song from my #1 artist!! (Sorry, "Badlands". Your top spot was beautiful while it lasted, and we've had so many good times, but I just... I don't think you're the one for me anymore...) I did an essay about Springsteen for one of my finals, believe it or not, and I talked about this song in particular, so that explains the sudden spike in listens--though it's constantly in my rotation regardless.

11. Wave - Ollounder's Bold Dynamics Mix -- Ateez

It's a time-honored tradition, now: trashy club remixes are my THING during finals. This one stuck with me all month, though, because it's actually kind of compelling--I find it fun, even when I'm not speedrunning a final paper. "Wave" is just a really sweet song already, and I think this remix adds a variety of sounds that make it not just pleasant, but also super captivating.

12. Lookalike -- Conan Gray

No comment...

13. Set Me Free (Lindgren Remix) -- Twice

Re: trashy club remixes for finals. This is so trash, I can't even argue that it's worth listening to at any time other than finals season. (The synth riffs in the prechorus are kind of awesome, actually, but the vocals sound like you're listening to them through a tin can telephone.) It was a great hype song while I studied, though.

14. Maybe -- (G)I-DLE

My second-favorite G-IDLE song ever (though I have no idea how I'll make room for "Eyes Roll" and "Revenge" in an updated top ten) is never not welcome on my most-listened list, but I have no idea why this is here. Maybe I left it on repeat while working on a paper? It has the right kind of beat drop to give me the same kick of adrenaline as my trashy club remixes do--though in terms of how much I admire it, "Maybe" is on a whole different level!

15. BOA -- Megan Thee Stallion

This is a wildly addictive song. The Gwen Stefani sample is such a good hook, but it's used so sparingly that I'm left hanging on Megan's every word, waiting for it to appear again. The deep bass makes the song feel full, though--by the end, I'm left wanting more without feeling like the listening experience was actually incomplete. My favorite line is definitely the Birkenstocks one; I still smile every time I hear it! I'm so excited for the album :)

Five-Star Songs (& Albums!) This Month

BOA -- Megan Thee Stallion

Lime -- Soojin

With just a few twists on a sweet, summery formula, "Lime" manages to stand out from the pack of cheery dance songs coming out at this time of year. The orchestral intro is so exciting, and the weirdly gritty vocal production (I still have no idea why anyone would consider that on a song like this--this album has some truly baffling production choices amid all the fantastic ones) unexpectedly grew on me. This song does sweet-and-sour so well!!

[Speaking of baffling production choices: "Drop Top" from this same album is a very nice listen, but what the hell is happening in the bridge... It would totally be a five-star song for me if not for that screechy violin (?) note in the dance break. Like. Why. Why would you just repeat the same ear-piercing note. The whole time. Have you considered a riff? Or making it just a TAD BIT quieter? Or just... a lower note? Anyway. Also, the ENTIRE title track, "Mona Lisa", is a baffling production choice. Just. The whole thing.]

Not Like Us -- Kendrick Lamar

Summer Daze -- Soojin

I like "Lime" a lot more than this one, but I can't help but admire "Summer Daze" too! I'm so in love with how it's a pop b-side just feels so authentically indie-rock? Like, "Más Lejos" by Atalhos was one of my favorite songs of the summer last year, and that's an actual indie-rock song--and it feels like everyone who had a hand in "Summer Daze" understood exactly why people enjoy that type of song & decided to write a love letter to the genre. This track would fit right in with anyone's wistful k-indie playlist!

Entre todas lo arreglamos (album) -- Repion

Yeah, fuck it--I added Repion to the stanlist this month! After this EP, how could I not? The pre-release "El día no me da" had my heart already--it was so similar to their last album, though, that I found it a tad bit boring. But as an opener for a song like "Viernes", "El día no me da" reaches its full potential; it functions so perfectly that my qualms completely disappear. "El día no me da" builds up the energy to this delightful high, and then "Viernes" is the rollercoaster ride back down, full of twists and turns--I love the experimentation with rhythm, which continues in "Qué hay de ti?". It adds such a nice edge to the album; even though this release retains the things that drew me to Repion in the first place--strong vocals and incessant energy--it feels anything but boilerplate. This EP has only one flaw, and it's the kazoo-sounding thing that shows up in "Vienen de pasárselo bien". Maybe it's a perfectly lovely instrument in other contexts, but I think it just sounds silly here, and I really would rather just appreciate their (always delightful) harmonies in peace. Those harmonies do save the song for me, though! To be fair, this album only has four songs--putting it in the albums category is kind of a stretch--but these four songs are packed with enough interesting ideas to make this the fullest EP I've heard in forever. (Plus, Repion gets extra-credit points for releasing my album of the year--a full-length one, too--last year.) I'm not sure if this EP will turn out to be a smaller part of an upcoming album, but I really hope so--I love this sound for them!

[falling-angelss]

DMV Struggle

E1 ,, Chapter 2

Chapter 1 can be found here!

All chapters can be found on pinned. :)

Summary: Wesley is finally taking his driving test so he doesn’t have to be a passenger princess anymore ❤️ very short chapter sorry im still thinking of chapter ideas before i get to the main plot chapters 😞

I've never been good at talking to people. At least, in a nonprofessional environment. I’ve always been good at talking to people when it’s a strictly professional approach, but when it comes to just being friendly and developing real connections, it’s like I’ve never spoken to anyone a day in my life. I feel almost like an alien at times. As if I was never meant to belong.

I’ve always felt like an actor in my own life, meant to play a specific role. Almost as if I know who I really am when the curtains close, but I’m told by everyone else a completely different role I have to play. And on top of that, apparently the director forgot to give me a script. I always say the wrong things and make the wrong decisions. I always make a complete fool of myself.

Which is why I often make an effort to distance myself from most. I want to be allowed to make my own script and play my own role sometimes, without anyone else reading my lines to me. I find it easier to live my day to day life alone.

I don’t need a big group of friends to go partying with every night, I don’t need coworkers to gossip with, I don’t need family members to ask me invasive questions every time I see them.

And I especially don’t need a musky blonde-haired skater boy pestering me just about any time I’m in town, but, guess what the director added to this season of “Wesley Just Trying To Live a Normal Life”.

I’m not even sure how he always seems to find me, it’s like he knows my every move. It’s a bit unnerving. Ever since I bumped into him before my job interview a few weeks ago, he’s been swarming me like a vulture and it’s roadkill.

His name is Aurelius Stevens, or “Ari”, as most people call him. He’s actually quite popular around here. We live in a small town where just about everyone knows everyone, and I quickly learned that Aurelius is quite well liked around here. Surprisingly…

However, that especially is what puzzles me. I don’t understand why someone with so many friends, so many people who actually like him, who actually want to hang out with him, would even attempt to spend time with me, an anxiety-ridden ninny who wants nothing more than to mind my own business. Out of anyone else, me?

It’s almost baffling. I wish I understood his motives.

I rush out of my apartment, tying my hair in a ponytail, since I don’t have time to properly style it and I don’t want to be late. I have a scheduled test at the DMV to try to get my driver's license. All of the legal stuff I’ve had to do after moving to America has been exhausting, especially without help from my parents, like I had back home. But… I know I’ll be alright. It’s better to get this all done sooner rather than later.

I start walking down the street, actively rummaging through my bag to make sure I have all the paperwork I may need. I can already feel an ache deep in my stomach… my anxiety always acts up when I’m headed to things like this. And the summer heat isn’t making it any better… I’m so used to the cooler temperatures back home near the sea, I forget how hot it can get here. This isn’t exactly the best time to have a wardrobe made up of almost entirely sweaters, now is it?

The DMV is just a few miles from my apartment, so not a bad walk, but apparently I’m more out of shape than I thought… after only about maybe 15 minutes of jogging, I feel so light-headed I could faint.

I check my watch, hoping that I’m not…

…

…Yeah. I’m running late. Of course I am, I’m always late.

I sit down on the low concrete wall that surrounds a local park, taking a short break from walking. I’m fighting with myself to decide what I should do next, hoping I can still make it to the DMV in time.

I always underestimate the complexity of doing even the most mundane tasks. If I had just woken up maybe an hour earlier, everything would’ve been fine. I don’t know how I have such poor time management.

Should I call the DMV? Let them know I’ll be late? Or maybe I should see if they can reschedule? Ugh. Or maybe I should pick up the pace a bit, I can still make it, but I think I may be sick if I run any longer. I really have to start working out soon. My legs are already aching, even from only jogging a short distance.

Maybe I should just cancel and do this another day. I’m already having the absolute worst of luck. My hair is a mess, both of my shirts are wrinkled, I was completely out of coffee (and food) this morning, and now that I’m sitting here, I see a toothpaste stain on the collar of my shirt.

Jeez, I really am a mess. I think Dad was right.

I can feel the anxiety and shame welling up inside my chest, like a geyser about to erupt straight out of me.

I can’t let anyone see me like this. What am I thinking? I should just-

Oh gosh. Is that his car?

“Hey!!! Dude!!! Do you need a ride!?”

He pulls up in front of me. I know that beat-up yellow car anywhere, you can spot it from a mile away. Ugh. Why on earth does he always have to show up at the worst times possible? Even worse though, Aurelius isn’t even the one driving. Instead, it’s one of his hooligan buddies who’s behind the wheel.

Gosh, this is embarrassing. My brain is crying out to me, sending signals to the rest of my body, causing me to feel as if I’m about to be mauled by a bear. It’s funny, how our anxiety manifests itself in such a Pavlovian way, as if we’ve been taught to feel such fear since our very first breath.

I realize I’ve gone a few moments too long without responding.

“Oh! Um…”

Do I really want to have these two drive me to the DMV? Would I want these two to drive me anywhere, for that matter? That poor car looks like it could break down at any minute, and with those two driving?

Well. When the opportunity presents itself, I suppose.

“Yeah, actually. Could you drop me off at the DMV? I have an appointment and,”

I look at my watch. Yikes. “I’m already quite late…”

Aurelius and his friend exchange glances, I see Aurelius say something, but I can’t make it out.

He gestures, indicating me to the back of the car.

Alright. I guess I’m doing this. It’s fine.

I open the back door and hop in, moving some things around so I even have room to sit down. Goodness, I haven’t seen a car this dirty in ages. I think I would pay him to let me clean this thing.

“You’ve met Francis, right?” Aurelius asks me, nudging the man in the driver’s seat to try and get him to introduce himself. He’s a fairly hefty man with long hair and tan skin, he’s probably somewhere around 6’2. In other words, amongst Aurelius’ other friends, this guy sticks out like a sore thumb. I’ve seen him before, but we’ve never formally met.

“Oh, I’m Wesley. Nice to meet you.” I reach out my hand to offer him a handshake. Francis looks me in the eyes and simply says,

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

He doesn’t shake my hand. I’m left looking like a complete imbecile. Maybe I have met him before?

This is so awkward. I take my hand back, placing both my hands in my lap. I’m already regretting this, but at least it’s a short drive.

I’ve finally finished my driving test, and now I’m headed out, about to make my way home. It’s barely evening, and I’m already exhausted and ready to head to bed.

Before I can even begin to start walking, I see Aurelius sitting in his car in the parking lot, playing on a handheld game system. I didn’t ask him to stay and drive me home, so I am a bit surprised at his appearance here.

I walk up to the car and knock on the window, causing Aurelius to jump. He was very focused on that game, I guess.

He rolls down the window to talk to me.

“Hey!!! I, uh, Francis went home but… I thought you might want a ride home?”

“Aurelius, you didn’t have to come get me. How long have you been sitting out here? I was in there for almost two hours.”

“I- Yeah, I know you didn’t ask me to come get you, I just… I thought it would be polite of me to drive you home so you don’t have to walk all that way.”

“I can walk home just fine, you didn’t have to wait for me here. The walk is only a few miles.”

“Dude. I saw how out of breath you were, y’know. Just let me do something nice for you.”

Oh. Well, that’s a little embarrassing.

I fall silent and get into the passenger seat. He and I both know I really do not want to walk home.

We drive for a little while in awkward silence, until Aurelius finally speaks up, cutting the tension.

“So… why are you wearing that sweater in almost 90-degree weather anyways?” He asks me with a smirk, just trying to tease me.

“My entire closet is sweaters like these, what else am I supposed to wear?”

“Seriously? What about like, when you’re just hanging out at home, or with a couple of friends? You don’t have anything besides those fancy-ass sweaters?”

“When I’m at home I just wear my pajamas. Anywhere else I try to dress presentable.”

Aurelius huffs out a silent laugh and pauses for a few moments.

“Well… you do look nice. I like your style. So, I guess it must pay off, right?”

His sudden change of tone… surprises me at first.

“Um… thanks. Yeah, I- I guess so.”

I’m not good at receiving compliments… I can feel myself flushing red. As I go silent, the tension rises once more.

Thankfully, we’re finally at the apartment building. I’m practically ready to jump out of my seat to go up to my apartment and decompress.

Aurelius parks the car.

“Hey, so… uh… I’ll see you around yeah? We should grab dinner or something one day, maybe, or… I dunno, but… we should hang out soon?” there’s an odd sense of nervousness in his words, which is quite unlike him.

“Uh… yeah, I’ll check my calendar. I’m pretty busy this month.” I’m making excuses. I’m not exactly looking to go “hang out” with anyone anytime soon.

“Alright, that’s cool. Uh… yeah. I’ll see you around.”

I exit the car and wave, heading inside. I can feel my face and ears burning red. This whole day was a huge mess of embarrassment after embarrassment.

At least I won’t have to have Aurelius drive me places for too long…

I look down at the papers I’m carrying.

I failed my driving test.

Even if I had passed, it’s not like I even have a car yet, though.

I guess I may have to deal with him at least a little longer, in case I ever need a ride.

(notes; sorry if this chapter is a little all over the place.. again im kinda just writing some world building filler chapters so u get to know the characters before the actual fun part of the plot 😞 cries)

[eclecticprincecollector]

10 things I hate about you part 2

part 1

As expected, your endavours were successful!, you had a dragon on your side afterall.

This led to you and Azul becoming good business partners, the problem here, darling yuu, is that the prince of Briar Valley had no idea of this and thought that you saught him out without any prompting.

This led to where you were today.

"Malleus...I have something to tell you, there seems to have been a-"

"Oh! Has the prince finally made his move" cronned Lilia, making Malleus blush and your heart drop to you feet.

Luckily grimm of all...people?...no cats, came to your rescue.

Afterwards, Lilia pulled you aside, at this point you were sure your head would join your heart on the floor now. ( generals are not known to be kind to triclsters)

instead what he said made your head spin.

Lilia arranged this so Malleus couls get closer to you!

so the suffering and the despiration that led to you was their doing, now your blood was boiling.

You hated that you had to go through this

You hated that he thought you could only be approached through these methods.

But still, you decided to give him a chance. On the condition that your dealings with Azul will have no further meddling with from Diasomnia.

Lilia pouted at that, Azul did too but he wouldn't admit it. ( sneaky thing got compensated)

Eventually, even as you fall for him, you decide to distance yourself from him because of the feelings of betrayal that you could get over.

You spent the summer vacation alone.( you were invited ti briar valley)

Skipping to the end of the mundane and ,surprisingly, accident less summer, you find yourself looking forward to meeting Malleus.

Who, by the way is a wealthy prince, gets you two gifts, one that showcases the mentioned wealth and one that speaks of his heart.

and so, presented with the most gorgeous ring you've ever seen and Malleus's GAO GAO dragon, you finally say yes to being his.

ANDD thats a wrap, I'm sorry for the large delay, but I've been pretty sickly for the past few week, with doctors visits and what not.

Stay tuned for Silver and peoples choice editions to this.

also sorry for any mistakes, I will edit soon.

[simplysedusa]

PPG Headcanons I Plan On Incorporating In My Fics

Elmer is albino, and he still has his glue powers. He's done quite well keeping it under wraps thanks to Professor Utonium and his pen-pal, Dexter.

Ms. Bellum is Princess Morbucks' maternal aunt. Penelope (Princess's mom, Sara's sister) and Sara were close as could be from a typical middle class family. That all changed when Penelope started dating Roy Morbucks. Ms. Bellum never liked the guy but her parents could be happier. The final nail in the coffin was when Penelope announced their engagement, and the two haven't spoken since her wedding day.

Prior to moving to Townsville, Mr. Morbucks had business in Townsville; some of it legal, but most of it wasn't. With the Powerpuff Girls being the beloved superheroes, it'd only be a matter of time until someone hired them to look into Mr. Morbucks' establishments and discovered his criminal underbelly. He decided to take Princess and enroll her in the very same kindergarten as the Powerpuff Girls to be her eyes and ears. He didn't expect her to become a supervillain out of spite, but he decided to fund her endeavors as a distraction.

Mitch has a tumultuous family background. His mom is dead, his dad's an alcoholic whose constantly in and out of jail with a different girl of the week living with him in the trailer, and his grandmother is hospitalized. Once Professor Utonium learned of this, he allowed Mitch to spend the night whenever he felt the need to. The constant exposure to the Powerpuffs allowed him to become friends with Blossom and Bubbles, closer with Buttercup, and a nicer person overall. He's still rather rebellious but he's no longer a bully. His interests are motorbikes (or any kind of car) and animals, surprisingly. He helps the volunteers to look after Twiggy during the summers on Monster Isle, who helps keep the monsters away from Townsville.

The Gangreen Gang (minus Ace, obviously) are a few of the aforementoined volunteers. Much to Buttercup's chagrin, Mitch and the reformed Gangreen Gang are on good terms.

Beebos are outlawed in Townsville, Farmsville, and Citiesville. All of them have been relocated to Monster Island. Mitch also helps keep an eye on the population and their feeding habits during his volunteer work over the summer. 

I can't decide if I want one of the Rowdyruff Boys or the Gangreen Gang to illegally have a Beebo, but one of those former delinquents definitely has one and are trying their hardest to keep it a secret lmao.

I've spoken about him here but Barnaby Mayer (aka "the Mayor") had been embezzling money from the city of Townsville for years. He came from a rather poverty stricken background and originally wanted to become mayor to help change Townsville for people like him. His newfound greed got to the better of him, and a certain someone close to him who I don't want to spoil just yet only helped push him further. Deforestation only allowed the growth of Townsville's infrastructure, at the expense of Fuzzy's property. Bribes from rich corporations in Townsville allowed the Mayor to turn a blind eye to wherever they dumped their toxic waste, which affected the Gangreen Gang and mutated the Amoeba Boys as their part of the city became the city wasteland. Sedusa's own court case was even rigged in the research lab's favor as a deal; the Mayor offers them funding and in exchange, they keep quiet about what he asks of them (future questionably unethical Chemical X experiments to extract a weakness against the Powerpuff Girls, silence on the ozone layer of Townsville and the radiation/pollution from monster waste, the Antidote X handcuffs, testing other animals which lead to the creation of the talking dog, White Kitty, and Roach Coach, etc). Most of Townsville's infamous villains link back to him (I got the idea from this post in particular, I just expanded on it).

Speaking of Sedusa's court case, I spoke a great deal about her here. Her real name is Annalise.

[satari-raine]

Hi, I'm a turtle again. Hope everyone has been doing okay this summer, staying cool and hydrated as best you can. I thought I'd give another update since I've been gone for a bit, for anyone curious?

It's, um. Been a bit rough for the past two months? Retail job was a bit difficult, mostly due to the type of physical work involved - less customer-interactive but way more taxing on the body, to the point I had to go to urgent care (which makes it twice in one year so far; body, please.)

However, I ended up getting offered a teaching job at a nearby university. Part-time unlike retail, but the pay is hardly different and the time freed up and the reduction of stress on my body made it a bit of a no-brainer to accept (despite losing the retail job's insurance.) That, and getting to do part of what I went to graduate school is a big relief, as silly as that might be.

Although, that insurance came in handy today, since I ended up doing an emergency walk-in to a local dentist and walked out with a bill that would've been a lot worse without insurance. Currently swimming with painkillers and more than a healthy chunk of anxiety because this ate up my money allotted for car repairs, but I'm glad the dental issue was able to get done.

Not really sure what else to add. Been trying to write more, especially since I owe something for a server challenge that I haven't been able to touch due to either being busy with work or recovering from the next health issue, both physically and mentally. Bad brains, all that fun stuff, I suppose. Hoping to get to that soon with an added apology for taking so long.

But I'm excited about teaching, surprisingly. I really enjoyed reading previous work from my former students and it's nice to be able to inspire people to write more, to feel more confident. I hope I can do a decent job this go around as an actual professor, and not just a graduate student.

Just. Here's to August and the rest of the year hopefully going smoothly. Not just for me, of course, but for everyone else. Rooting for you all, as usual.

[headcanonsandmore]

'Stand and Deliver!' Chapter Six

Summary: A new arrival appears in Crofters Lodge in dire circumstances, and Tegan finds herself travelling to London once again. The phantom keeps appearing and Tegan finds herself slowly growing to like the mysterious masked figure. Will a death-defying chase alter things between them? Read on, dear readers, and find out…

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi everyone; my apologies for the delay with this chapter. I know I'm normally very regular with my release schedule but this has been a weird time for me; I bought my first house! Yeah, I'm as surprised as you are XD Hence why I've barely had any time to write over the last few weeks.

Anyway, my apologies again for the delay. Today is my birthday and I finally have some time to myself, so I've been able to get this chapter finished. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take nearly as long to write but we'll have to wait and see.

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Read on AO3.

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Monday had always been a calmer day for the inn, but there was still work to be done. Luckily, the weather had stayed dry, although it was still cold, with overcast skies and dim sunshine peeking through.

Tegan spent most of the morning sweeping the courtyard, and cleaning out Dan’s stable. The donkey looked sheepish, as if embarrassed that she needed to clean out his muck. Tegan chuckled, and scratched Dan fondly behind the ears, which elicited a happy honk.

After all that hubbub from the previous evening, the inn felt very quiet. Tegan ignored the acceleration of her heartbeat as she remembered dancing with Nyssa, although she couldn’t help but smile at the memory. It was a very good memory, after all.

Although… Nyssa had quickly left after the Lethbridge-Stewart had made his introductions. The pastors daughter had quickly curtsied to the man, before squeezing Tegan’s hand in goodbye and heading off, explaining that her father would be expecting her arrival back home soon.

Tegan let out a sigh, and leaned against the door of Dan’s stable.

She had hoped to have danced the rest of the evening with Nyssa, but she supposed that was too much to hope for. After all, Nyssa’s father did rely on her for help around the parish, not to mention the various charitable collections that Nyssa organised for the poorest in the community. Nyssa was a busy person, and Tegan was glad to have had at least one evening with Nyssa to herself.

It had been lovely, dancing with her. Feeling the happy beat of her own heartbeat, and the warm gentle brush of Nyssa’s hand against her own. Now that she thought about it, Nyssa had a surprisingly strong pair of arms, given that she had been able to effortlessly dip Tegan whilst the two of them were dancing. Tegan wouldn’t have expected it but, then again, she had been away for a long time; it could easily be that Nyssa’s physicality was due to her busy schedule, not to mention living in a small village where, when heavy things needed to be moved, the entire community came out to help.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered if she would get to see Nyssa’s bare arms in the summer months-

Tegan felt her face suddenly flush, and she cast that thought aside. She gave Dan one last scratch behind his ears, and headed back across the courtyard to the inn.

Too dangerous to think like that, anyway.

When she came back inside, she found Adric and Joy sat at the long table, pouring over the inn’s accounts. Adric had always been good with numbers, and his skills had grown significantly since Tegan had last stayed at home.

‘Where’s dad?’

‘In the cellar,’ Joy said, looking up from the long rolls of parchment. ‘Doing a stock check with the barrels.’

‘Right. Did you say earlier about me delivering something to Barbara?’

‘Basket’s in the kitchen; thanks, love.’

Tegan pressed a quick kiss to her mother’s forehead, and ruffled Adric’s hair. Ignoring the grumble that arose out of the boy, she headed into the kitchen, picked up the basket and headed out of the side door.

As she walked along the road, Tegan breathed in the fresh country air. Hmmm. Bit too fresh, that morning. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction, bringing with it the pungent odour of manure. Lovely.

Still, Tegan found it hard to complain. She had grown up on Sutton Common, after all, and the smell of manure was not new to her. She supposed she had grown used to the smells of London which -while very unpleasant at times- didn’t tend to include cows mess.

Tegan headed off of the main room, and up the small side-street, passing a couple of cottages along the way and coming to a stop in front of door, painted in a blue that was beginning to fade.

She knocked politely and took a step back, holding up the basket.

Barbara Chesterton opened the door. Her hair was looking slightly messy and her cheeks were slightly flushed. The top few buttons of her blouse had been hastily done up.

‘Hello, Barbara.’

‘Er, hello, Tegan,’ Barbara said, as she stepped forward. ‘Oh, the basket? That’s so thoughtful of your mother-’

‘Fun night with Ian, eh?’

The older woman’s face bypassed red and turned maroon.

‘Ssshhh!’ she exclaimed, waving her other hand in mortification. ‘You don’t need to draw attention to it.’

‘Draw attention to it? You spent half of the dance with your hands on his buttocks!’

Barbara giggled.

‘Yes, it was rather an enjoyable evenings dance. What about you? I saw you with Nyssa; are you teaching her to dance?’

‘Er, sort of.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, Tegan,’ Barbara said. ‘Nyssa is rather shy with public events, bless her. I think she really appreciates you doing that.’

Tegan shrugged.

*

After politely declining Barbara’s offer to stay for scones (she knew that Barbara and Ian would want to continue whatever had been interrupted), Tegan headed back down the lane, and then stared up the main street that headed past the inn and out of Crofters Lodge.

There was a coach, stood at the side of the road, just before the bend in the road.

Tegan felt a strange feeling of foreboding. Looking around, she saw that the main street through the village was deserted aside from herself, no doubt due to the early hour.

Hurrying up the road, Tegan headed around the other side of the inn (Dan the donkey giving a happy honk as she passed) and took a shortcut, making her way across the muddy ground, ducking from tree to tree as she went.

She came to a stop amongst the trees nearest the road, and peeked out towards the coach stood on the opposite side.

Her eyes widened in horror.

There were two figures next to the coach.

One was a man, dressed in a long black cloak and a tricorn hat. His build was bulky and gruff. One hand was holding onto a horse that was presumably his own. The other hand was pointing a pistol at the second figure.

The second figure was a young girl; she couldn’t have been older than thirteen. She was probably a few inches shorter than Tegan, and had short dirty-blond hair. Her bonnet was lying abandoned on the ground beside her.

She was kneeling beside someone who was lying, collapsed, on the ground. It almost looked like-

Tegan felt her breath hitch in her throat.

There were several red stains on the man’s shirt, and his skin had a horrible ghostly pale look to it. He was dead.

Tears were streaking down the girls face, as she glared up at the highwayman.

Now that Tegan looked at it, she could see the forms of several other passengers lying about in the coach. The coachman was lying on the ground nearby, with the same pale look to his skin.

They were all dead.

This had been a massacre.

‘Well, young lady,’ growled the man irritably. ‘Can’t have you around, can we? Otherwise that’s me for the gallows.’

He raised his handgun.

Tegan felt a sudden search of panic. She needed to do something! Maybe she could distract the highwayman so the girl could run for cover? Or-

There was a load bang.

Tegan flinched, but the girl did not fall. Instead, the pistol had been blown out of the man’s hand.

Tegan’s eyes darted along the road from where the sound had come.

The phantom, sat astride their horse, was barrelling up to the coach.

‘Get away from her!’ exclaimed the masked figure.

The man turned, eyes widening behind his mask.

‘You again!’

Without a second thought, he scrambled backwards, jumped onto his horse, and galloped away, heading onto the common.

Instead of following, the phantom slowed their horse to a gentle stop, and climbed swiftly to the ground. The girl stiffened as they approached.

‘I mean you no harm,’ said the phantom, kneeling down in front of the young girl. Their voice was exceedingly gentle. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘N-no,’ stammered the girl. ‘I… my father…’

The phantom looked over the girls shoulder, and their gaze seemed to rest on the body laying a short way away.

‘I’m so sorry,’ the phantom said, very quietly.

The girl’s lip began to tremble. The phantom leaned forward, and put their arms softly around her. The girl began to cry into the phantom’s shoulder, and the figure patted her gently on the back.

Tegan’s mouth hung open. There it was again; the phantoms predilection for kindness that Tegan wouldn’t have thought possible of a highwayman. Why did it intrigue her so? Was it simply the gap inbetween the figure of the masked bandit and the kindness that they seemed to extend to everyone? Or was it something… else?

No -Tegan waved the thought aside- that definitely wasn’t possible. Tegan knew that her feelings for any man would never be that.

She bit her lip thoughtfully.

The girl had, by this point, wiped her nose messily with her sleeve, and pulled away somewhat from the phantom.

‘The village of Crofters Lodge is just along the road,’ said the phantom, gesturing behind them. ‘There is an inn there; the innkeeper and his wife are good, kindly people.’

‘Can… can you take me there?’

The phantom nodded. They took the girl with one hand, using the other to lead their horse.

‘Good, kind people, you say?’

‘Yes,’ the phantom replied. ‘I know their daughter.’

‘Is she nice?’

‘She is the loveliest person I have ever met,’ replied the phantom. ‘Tegan, her name is. You’ll like her, I’m sure.’

Tegan froze for a moment. Why did the phantom think she was lovely? They’d only met twice before, and on the first occasion Tegan hadn’t exactly been full of the milk of human kindness. Where would the phantom have-

Nyssa. Of course, Nyssa had apparently been mentioning Tegan whenever she crossed paths with the phantom.

The innkeepers daughter smiled. Nyssa was too good for this world.

Tegan turned and hurried away, taking the long route around. Her boots beat softly against the dull winter ground.

She arrived back in the courtyard of the inn, and hurried in the back door.

‘Mum, there’s been a hold-up on the common!’ she exclaimed, bursting into the common room. ‘The phantom managed to stop the robber but… oh…’

The door opened, and the young girl from the coach entered, looking terrified out of her wits.

Tegan hurried forward.

‘Hello,’ she said, gently. ‘My name is Tegan.’

‘The masked man mentioned you,’ said the girl. ‘My… dad always called me Vicki.’

Her eyes glistened miserably with tears.

‘Oh, you poor dear,’ Joy said, coming up to stand next to Tegan, before bending down to Vicki’s eyeline. ‘Come along; let’s get you somewhere to sit and I’ll get you something to drink.’

‘T-thank you,’ Vicki said. Joy placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and guided the young girl over to a table nearby.

The door opened again.

‘I came as soon as I could!’

Tegan startled at the familiar voice, and turned round, her heartrate suddenly increasing again. She hurried across the room.

‘Nyssa?’

‘The phantom threw a stone at our front door,’ said the pastors daughter, face flushed from the exertion of running. ‘He said that there had been a hold-up on the common, and a poor young girl who needed somewhere to stay.’

‘O-oh,’ Tegan said. ‘Right. Yes, her name is Vicki. She’s still in shock, poor thing. I... I wouldn’t go to the coach, if I were you; it must have been pretty horrible, by all accounts.’

Nyssa nodded.

The two young women crossed the room, to where Vicki was sat. Joy had placed a glass of milk in front of her, but she wasn’t drinking from it. Tegan’s heart clenched in empathy. No doubt Vicki could barely focus on anything at the moment, given the circumstances.

‘Vicki,’ -Tegan gestured to Nyssa- ‘This is Nyssa Traken. The pastors daughter.’

Vicki stared at Nyssa for a moment, and her eyes narrowed slightly, as if in thought.

‘Hello,’ she said, slowly. ‘How do you do?’

Nyssa hurried forward and knelt down beside the girl, giving a small, kind smile.

‘I’m very well,’ Nyssa said. ‘Er… Vicki, was it?’

The girl nodded, morosely.

‘Do you have any family in London?’

Vicki shook her head.

‘There was only dad,’ she said, quietly. ‘I… I don’t have anyone now, it seems.’

Nyssa’s eyes seemed to glisten with tears. She reached out and took Vicki’s hand in her own.

‘That’s not true, Vicki,’ she said, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke. ‘I assure you that no-one will force you into an orphanage or a workhouse. You are more than welcome to stay with my father and I in our home, for as long as you want to.’

Tegan felt her heart well.

‘Thank you, Miss Nyssa,’ Vicki said, giving a watery smile despite her tears. ‘That sounds wonderful.’

‘Come along, love,’ said Joy, placing a gentle hand on Vicki’s shoulder. ‘Let’s get you some food, help you get over the shock…’

Vicki nodded, and followed Tegan’s mother away. The kitchen door closed behind them.

Nyssa wiped her eyes, and gave a sniff. Her eyes landed on Tegan, and she tried for a watery smile.

Without thinking, Tegan strode over and put her arms around the younger woman. Nyssa stiffened slightly but did not pull away, and leaned into Tegan’s shoulder after a moment. Her hands came to rest around Tegan’s back. She wasn’t crying anymore but there was a curious fragility to her. At the moment, Tegan wanted nothing more than to support Nyssa as best she could. It wasn’t even due to her own feelings for the parsons daughter; she simply knew that she would be there for Nyssa, no matter what.

Nyssa’s hands were soft and gentle against Tegan’s back, and her head had a warm weight as she rested on the shoulder on the innkeepers daughter. Tegan decided that she liked this feeling far more than she would ever feel comfortable admitting to Nyssa. The feeling of knowing that Nyssa could rely on her, whatever the circumstances, was truly wonderful. Or maybe Tegan was just hopeless. Either way, she didn’t care.

Eventually, Nyssa sniffed again, and gently pulled away.

‘Better?’

The parsons daughter nodded. 

‘Thank you, Tegan,’ she said, with a smile. ‘You are too kind.’

Nothing is too kind for you, Tegan thought. She dare not say it; she knew that Nyssa was just brush it away, assuming that Tegan was just being overly sweet.

Instead, she simply returned the smile.

‘You were… very sweet to her.’

Nyssa seemed to freeze, her eyes darting to Tegan’s face, as if trying to salvage some deeper meaning from her expression.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Suggesting she live with you,’ Tegan explained. ‘That was really lovely of you, Nyssa.’

‘O-oh, w-well…’ Nyssa stammered, waving a hand. ‘I just wanted to help. The poor girl has had a harrowing day.’

Tegan leaned forward, and took Nyssa’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

‘I wasn’t kidding when I said you were the loveliest person I’ve ever met,’ Tegan said, smiling softly.

Nyssa’s cheeks turned a pretty pink of pink.

‘T-Tegan,’ she stammered, blinking quickly. ‘I… oh, I’m really not as lovely as you think I am.’

‘I find that hard to believe,’ Tegan replied, very quietly. ‘You sure you aren’t hiding a halo under that bonnet?’

Nyssa let out a flustered giggle, and tried to cover her mouth with her other hand. Beautiful. Tegan felt her heart jump into her mouth; whenever she thought Nyssa couldn’t spellbind her, the pastors daughter would prove her wrong.

‘An angel?’ Nyssa chuckled, skin crinkling around her eyes. ‘Are you simply trying to flatter me, Tegan?’

‘I thought I was stating facts,’ Tegan cheeked, grinning. ‘And I will keep at it until you finally stop underestimating how wonderful you are.’

‘That’s a little rich coming from you, isn’t it?’

‘That reminds me, I think you need to stop mentioning me to the phantom,’ Tegan said, with a chuckle. ‘Apparently, they’re now under the impression that I’m lovely. You’re flattering me, Nyssa.’

Nyssa blinked quickly, cheeks flushing again.

‘W-well, it would be discourteous to lie when describing you,’ she stammered, grey-green eyes meeting Tegan’s brown. ‘And… you are lovely, Tegan. I hope you do not mind.’

Tegan smiled.

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she said, quietly. ‘You know me, Nys; I couldn’t be upset about you saying that about me.’

‘Really?’ Nyssa said, voice barely above a whisper. ‘Why?’

There was a beat of silence. Tegan felt her throat go very dry. Her heart hammered painfully against her chest, and she was sure that her palms were sweaty.

‘Nyssa… I-’

But there was then a creak as the front door of the inn opened, and Tegan lost her nerve.

Benton stepped into the common room, followed by Nyssa’s father. The parson’s daughter startled slightly, but did not remove her hand from Tegan’s.

‘She’s in the kitchen, father,’ she said, quickly. ‘Mrs Jovanka is getting her some food.’

‘Much needed, I imagine,’ sighed the pastor. ‘Come along; let us help the poor thing.’

Nyssa followed her father and Benton across the room to the kitchen door. However, she turned to look at Tegan.

‘Sorry, we were interrupted; what were you going to say?’

‘Er… n-nothing.’

Nyssa frowned, as if she had been hoping for a different answer, but nodded. Tegan swallowed as, hand still clutched around Nyssa’s, she followed the pastors daughter across the common room.

Would she ever be able to tell Nyssa why?

*

‘Tegan!’

Stumbling down the stairs as she did up her pinafore, Tegan hurried into the kitchen. It was the next morning.

‘Mum?’ she said, coming to a halt just inside the door. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

‘Vanessa’s been taken ill,’ Joy said, eyes worried as she looked up from the letter in her hands. ‘This came with the morning post carriage; her nurse is worried sick.’

‘Right. I’ll collect my things and hop on the mail carriage heading to London,’ Tegan said, already grabbing a loaf of bread from the table. ‘Don’t worry, mum; I’ll stay with her as long as it takes.’

Joy pressed a quick kiss to the top of Tegan’s curls, before nodding and letting her rush back upstairs.

*

‘Hold on!’

Tegan recognised the voice and turned where she was stood. Lethbridge-Stewart was striding pointedly in her direction. The innkeepers daughter frowned, before passing her bag up to the coachman, and then turned around to face the military man.

‘Hello, Miss… Jovanka, was it?’

‘Yes,’ Tegan replied. ‘Good morning, sir.’

‘And to you, miss. Are you heading to London?’

Tegan nodded. The man frowned, his moustache prickling on his upper lip.

‘There are highwayman abroad, Miss Jovanka. I would advise caution when travelling across the common to London.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Tegan replied, stiffly. She knew that she had no reason to be so cold to the man, but his presence at the dance had disturbed Nyssa. ‘But I must travel nonetheless; family emergency, you see.’

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded, in apparent understanding.

‘This phantom may still be around, hence my warning.’

‘I have met the phantom on several occasions,’ Tegan said, frowning. ‘They have caused me no harm thus far.’

‘You are very lucky indeed, in that case.’

Lethbridge-Stewart tipped his hat, and strode away.

Tegan rolled her eyes at the man’s back, and turned around, climbing into the carriage. When she had initially heard that a higher-up was arriving in Crofters Lodge due to the highwayman situation, she had hoped that the official would be similar to Benton in outlook. This had clearly been a forlorn hope, given Lethbridge-Stewart’s rather pompous manner. She understood that the man was simply carrying out his assignment, but anyone who caused Nyssa Traken discomfort was not to be trusted, in Tegan’s mind.

She really was hopeless for that woman, wasn’t she.

The coach left Crofters Lodge a few minutes later. Aside from Tegan, the only passengers were an elderly couple who had been on the coach since it had set off northwards earlier than morning. They did not speak, content to quietly sit, and Tegan was more than happy to join in.

Tegan looked out of the window. Through the morning mists, she could see a familiar-looking figure on horseback, gliding between the half-visible trees like a guardian angel.

Smiling slightly to herself, Tegan sat back down. She had a sneaking suspicion that this coach wasn’t going to get held up on the common.

*

Several hours later, Tegan climbed out of the carriage, her boots making a soft squelch against the muddy pavement. London’s sanitation hadn’t changed much since she had been away. It was always worse in the winter, when the heavy rains combined with the dirt of the streets to form a disgusting layer of sloppy mud.

She bit back her desire to wrinkle her nose, and collected her bag from the coachman. Giving a quick thanks, Tegan headed down the street.

It had clearly rained here more than it had back home, and there was a wet tinge to the air, mixed with the general odour of unwashed bodies, animal mess and human waste. Lovely.

Eventually, Tegan arrived at her aunt’s home, and knocked swiftly on the front door. It was a respectable house, in a street mainly made up of the strange social strata where the upper working class bled into the lower echelons of the middling sort. Office boys, young families of army sergeants, shop assistants, trade apprentices, and the like.

Vanessa’s front door was as well-cleaned as it always had been. A few moments later, it opened, revealing the harried-looking nurse that had sent Tegan the letter that morning.

‘Thank goodness, Miss Tegan!’

‘Hello, Mary,’ Tegan said, smiling kindly. Domestic service was a difficult job, and she bore the woman no ill for trying as best she could, despite such an isolated and difficult job. ‘How is my aunt?’

‘She has improved somewhat,’ continued Mary, letting Tegan into the house and closing the door swiftly behind her. ‘But I was most concerned.’

The house was much the same as ever, albeit with a slightly less airy feel than when Tegan had lasted lived there. Mary had kept the place clean and tidy, but there was undoubtably a sense that the place was now more a place of care than of a home in its own right.

Tegan placed her bag over to the side, removed her overcoat, and followed Mary up the stairs, the steps creaking slightly under their weight. It was warmer inside than out, and Tegan was glad to be out of the cold air.

The two young women came to a stop in front of Vanessa’s bedroom. Mary opened the door, and Tegan entered. With another smile, Mary closed it behind her.

Vanessa was sat up in bed. Her eyes lit up as Tegan hurried over.

‘Hello, my girl,’ she said, voice accented with a slight croak. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘And to see you too, auntie,’ Tegan said, bending down to kiss her aunt on the forehead before sitting down in the chair left next to the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Much better now, Tegan,’ Vanessa said, smiling. ‘I’ll be up and about in no time at all. You know me; tough as an old turkey.’

Tegan grinned.

‘Mum will be pleased,’ she replied. ‘She was worried about you, as were we all at home.’

‘My apologies,’ Vanessa chuckled. ‘I do worry that my maid may have inflamed concerns with her letter. I was simply feeling a little under the weather, and yet she seems to think that I was at deaths door.’

‘She means well. And we do not mind being informed as to how you fare.’

‘Anyway, how are things back home? Is Adric still helping out with the accounts?’

Tegan smiled, and began to reminisce.

*

‘My apologies for bringing you away from Crofters Lodge,’ Vanessa said, smiling. ‘I take it that you are enjoying your time back in the village?’

Tegan nodded, smiling.

‘Very much so. It’s great to see all the old faces again. Barbara, Ian, Ben, Polly-’

‘Nyssa Traken, perhaps?’

Tegan’s mouth fell open.

‘How did you-’

‘You’ve mentioned her about five times in the past half hour,’ Vanessa chuckled. ‘I take it that you enjoyed dancing with her.’

‘Er… yes,’ Tegan said, very slowly. ‘I did. She is… a good friend. Kind, sweet, intelligent. She will make a wonderful wife, no doubt.’

Vanessa smiled.

‘Not every woman needs to marry,’ the older woman said, gently. ‘Some of us… find comfort in other things. Other people.’

Tegan stared at her.

Was… was it that obvious? She could have sworn that her expression hadn’t changed when mentioning Nyssa. And… what on earth did the older woman mean? Other people? Did… did that mean what she thought it meant?

‘Yes, Nyssa is a wonderful friend,’ Tegan said, softly. ‘I… I do care a great deal for her.’

Vanessa smiled.

‘That does not surprise me,’ Vanessa said. ‘Our family are good judges of character. It is no great shock that a woman as good as Nyssa Traken had become such a close friend to you.’

Tegan’s fingers bunched into the material of her dress. It felt as if Nyssa occupied a space in her mind constantly these days, regardless of what else she was doing. But she supposed that was to be expected. By the sounds of it, Ben and Polly had felt the same way about each other for a long time before they had begun courting.

Could she court Nyssa?

Was that even possible?

But… Nyssa had been very happy whilst dancing with her. She had repeatedly mentioned that she found Tegan lovely, and there had been moments between them -when the two of them were alone- where Tegan could almost have hoped that maybe her feelings were not entirely unrequited.

Tegan swallowed. It was all so very complicated.  

‘Do… do you wish me to stay, auntie?’ she asked. ‘Mum isn’t expecting me back for a while.’

‘No, dear,’ Vanessa replied, kindly. ‘I’m perfectly fine; I think Mary just got a little scared on my behalf when she sent the letter. Bless her, she is so caring.’

Tegan smiled.

‘In that case, I will leave you to it,’ she said, standing up and pressing a kiss to her aunt’s forehead. ‘I will catch the coach back home.’

‘Goodbye, Tegan.’

Tegan smiled.

‘Goodbye, auntie.’

*

‘Tegan; jump!’

It was several hours later. Tegan’s coach -which, aside from her, had been empty- had been hijacked by a highwayman. The coachmen had been thrown off the side. Realising that the robber hadn’t noticed the carriage was occupied, Tegan had climbed out of the window, and started wrestling with the masked man for the reins of the horses. In the scuffle that had followed, the highwayman had been thrown from the seat, knocking himself unconscious on the ground.

Tegan, trying desperately to slow the horses down, had been left atop the rickety coach. The horses, by now terrified by all the yelling and shoving, were now incapable of stopping, no matter what Tegan did. The next fifteen miles (or thereabouts, it was difficult to judge) were the longest of Tegan’s life.

It was just when Tegan was at her wits end that a horse, carrying a very familiar-looking masked figure, had appeared, galloping alongside the carriage, with their hand outstretched towards her.

The phantom had tried to climb up on the coach but, due to the horses terror, was unable to get close enough. Thinking fast, Tegan first threw her bag to the phantom, who nimbly caught it and attached it to their saddlebags behind them, keeping their horse on-course with one hand.

Heart in her mouth, Tegan leapt from the carriage. She landed behind the phantom and swung her leg quickly up over the horse, clutching her arms around the waist of the masked figure to steady herself. The horse’s hair was wet in the night air.

The carriage, horses still braying in terror, continued down the road and was swallowed up by the inky black night around them.

The phantom slowed the horse to a gentle stop by the side of the road, next to a grassy patch. A barn was stood a few hundred feet away. Tegan and the phantom were both breathing heavily, the exertion hitting their bodies with a sudden shock as the danger had passed.

The phantom reached out to help Tegan down. As Tegan made to reach down, her wobbly hold on the horse broke, and she fell.

The masked figure made an attempt to catch her, but the momentum of Tegan’s fall caused the two of them to fall onto the grass, tumbling over each other before coming to a halt in a jumbled heap.

‘Ow…’

With a sudden shock, Tegan realised that she was now straddling the phantom’s waist. The highwayman’s cloak had ballooned out behind them, and was now acting the part of a large blanket, protecting both of them from the we and muddy grass. The buttons of their shirt beginning to gap, and their legs squirmed slightly underneath Tegan. A strand of curly brown hair escaped from under their hat, trailing down over the mask that covered their eyes.

As Tegan’s brown eyes met the grey-green orbs below her, she was suddenly aware that, up close, the phantom didn’t look like a man at all. In fact, with the way their chest was heaving in and out, and their face flushed a delicate pink colour, they almost looked like a-

Tegan’s face flushed.

‘S-sorry!’ Tegan exclaimed, feeling her heart pounding against her chest. She was suddenly aware of her own thighs pressing into the legs of the phantom, and she made to stand up. Her dress had bunched up somewhat during the events of the last half hour, and it took her a while to scramble to her feet. ‘I-I didn’t mean to-’

‘N-no problem at all,’ the phantom replied, looking away as Tegan made to arrange her petticoats into something less salacious-looking. ‘Are… are you hurt, Tegan?’

‘Just a little shaken,’ she said. She realised that, in the heat of the moment, the phantom had dropped the honorific of “Miss Jovanka”. The way they said it… why did it sound so familiar?

‘I-I best get you back to the village,’ the phantom said. ‘Are you able to ride behind me?’

Tegan nodded, trying desperately to calm her breathing. No doubt she looked a complete mess, with her dress torn and her petticoats still showing underneath. For some reason, the thought of the phantom seeing her in this way was strangely… exciting.

For a moment, Tegan’s gaze came to rest on the phantom’s shirt, which was still expanding in and out as the masked figure tried to get their breath back.

A sudden warmth sputtered into life between Tegan’s thighs, and she hurriedly averted her gaze to stare at the horse instead, feeling her cheeks flush with heat. What on earth was she playing at? This was the phantom after all. While they were a decent enough sort, they were still a highwayman.

Wait… since when had Tegan started referring to the phantom as “they” instead of “him”?

But was the phantom a man? Judging from the way Tegan’s eyes had lasciviously lingered on the phantoms chest, she wasn’t sure. She had never seen men in that sort of way, after all. There had only ever really been…

Nyssa.

Tegan felt a sudden spasm of guilt in her gut. It was wrong of her to stare at another person in this way, given the feelings she knew in her heart would always belong to the pastors daughter.

 And yet… Tegan could not ignore the giddy delight that came with being around the phantom. The feeling of their cocky-yet-gentle gaze on Tegan was… rather exciting. The sputter of warmth between her thighs continue to kindle softly, lapping slightly over her skin.

Tegan was not a stranger to those sorts of feelings, of course. Her adoration for Nyssa had been an early indicator in that regard. But she had always tried to repress those sorts of feelings when it came to the pastors daughter; she somehow felt that to think of Nyssa in that sort of way was… unfair to the woman. After all, Nyssa saw Tegan as a good friend.

Admittedly, these sorts of reservations tended to disappear from Tegan’s mind during sleep, and she had woken from various dreams breathless and covered in sweat. Those moments had always been followed by bouts of shame and remorse, the latter directed at the young woman who, in the depths of Tegan’s dreams...

Well, Tegan tried not to think too much about it. Good grief. Her unconscious mind had a habit of bringing hidden desires out into the open during those nocturnal hours. It unnerved her.

The phantom looked up. A drop of rain landed on their cheek.

There was a crash of thunder, and the heavens opened. Rain poured down, bouncing off Tegan’s overcoat and bonnet. Within seconds, she could feel the cold water permeating to her skin.

‘The barn!’

Breaking into a sprint, Tegan and the masked figure (who had grabbed the horse’s reins) charged over the wet grass. The horse didn’t seem that bothered by the rain, so Tegan reached the doors before the phantom. She pulled up the large plank keeping the doors closed, and pulled out one of the doors.

The horse strolled inside and shook itself, soaking the phantom in a second shower of rainwater. The masked figure gave a groan.

Tegan followed the phantom in through the door.

The masked figure tied their horse up against a nearby wooden wall, and the animal shook itself again before snorting.

The phantom walked back over to Tegan, and the two of them stood, shivering, staring out into the rain; it was getting worse by the minute, although mercifully there weren’t any strikes of lightning.

‘Guess that puts paid to getting back to Crofters Lodge.’

‘You never know,’ the phantom said, pulling their wet cloak off their shoulders. ‘It may just be a short heavy shower.’

Tegan stared sideways at the masked figure out of the corner of her eye. Their cloak had kept the worst of the rain off, but their shirt underneath was damp in several places. Where the rain had soaked in, the material had become half-translucent, and Tegan could make out several patches of pale skin-

The innkeeper daughter turned away quickly. Her heartrate had increased again. The heat between her legs sparked. Rabbits.

‘Er… Miss Tegan?’

‘Hm?’

‘Your overcoat looks soaked; you’ll catch a chill if you leave it on.’

Tegan reluctantly removed her outer layer. The layers underneath were mostly dry, but there was an uncomfortable dampness nonetheless.

The phantom was staring at her. Their eyes met hers, and a flush came to the face of the masked figure as they turned away sharply.

‘Er… Miss Tegan, your blouse is…’

Tegan looked down. With a start, she realised that her blouse was a lot more transparent than she had initially realised.

‘Don’t stare!’

‘I’m not!’ the phantom exclaimed, sounding very flustered. ‘Why did you think I turned away?’

‘Er… yes,’ Tegan said, lamely. ‘Sorry.’

‘No need,’ the phantom said. ‘I’ll just…’

They gestured to the open doors, and Tegan nodded.

‘Yeah; best to keep the warmth in.’

A few moments later, the phantom had pulled closed the door.

They headed across the barn (still avoiding looking at Tegan) climbed down onto the ground underneath one of the haylofts, leaning back against a heap of hay, and placed their hands behind their head, knocking their hat slightly forward to cover their arms. They crossed one leg over the other.

Tegan sat down a few feet away, and leaned back against the side of a barrel of hay.

‘Nothing to do but wait until the rain clears, I suppose.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ the phantom replied. ‘You can rest assured that I will not harm so much as a head on your head, Miss Tegan.’

‘Not much for the literal roll-in-the-hay, then?’

‘Not without a maidens consent, certainly. I am a gentleman.’

‘Gentle… man.’

The phantom went very still.

‘What?’ they said. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Nothing,’ Tegan replied. After all, it wasn’t any of her business, regardless of her own flusteredness when it came to the masked figure laying a short distance away. ‘Just thinking how you really are a gentleman, aren’t you?’

‘I am not an aristocrat, if that is what you mean,’ the phantom said. ‘Besides, I doubt you’d be interested in a roll in the hay with me.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

The phantom, to Tegan’s surprise, let out a giggle.

‘Because, knowing a certain pastors daughter, you’ve got someone already trying to find you, despite the rainstorm. Can’t imagine you’d want her to turn up whilst you were in an intimate situation. The poor girl would probably faint.’

‘Cheek!’

Before Tegan knew what she was doing, she had got to her feet, closed the distance between them, and gave the phantom a hearty shove. The masked figure, still giggling, went sprawling into the hay.

‘Bit of a short fuse, eh?’ grinned the phantom, dimples showing in their cheeks. ‘Goodness forbid I say anything untoward about “Nys”-’

‘Oh, do be quiet!’

Tegan found her heart hammering against her chest.

‘I can tell Nyssa that you propositioned me in a barn when I was vulnerable, though,’ Tegan said, grimly. ‘You’d never hear the end of it.’

‘I don’t doubt that,’ the phantom replied, with a shrug. ‘She has rather a soft spot for you, doesn’t she. Bet you’d be happy if she propositioned you for a roll in the-’

Tegan shoved the phantom again. The highwayman was ready for her this time, though, and gently placed their hand on her arm. Tegan froze where she was leaning over, her brown eyes meeting the green eyes that peeked out from under the hat. She was aware that the phantom could probably see quite a lot of skin through her half-transparent blouse, but the idea did not alarm her. In fact, it felt almost… enjoyable.

There a very pregnant pause.

‘Er….’ Tegan said, not quite sure what she was even going to say.

‘I think the rain’s stopped.’

They both looked towards the door. Sure enough, the sound of the rain had completely disappeared.

‘Back to Crofters Lodge,’ the phantom said, gently letting go of Tegan’s arm and climbing to their feet. ‘We best get moving; your parents will be worried sick.’

‘Er… yes.’

Tegan put her still-soaked overcoat back on, and followed the phantom outside.

What on earth had just happened?

*

Tegan climbed down from the phantoms horse, her boots landing with a soft thud against the stones of the inn’s courtyard. It was a good hour later, and the weather had remained mercifully dry. Both Tegan and the phantom were now dry, although Tegan felt a chill coming on and knew her mother would insist on drawing her a hot bath once she got inside.

The phantom also climbed off the horse, and came to stand next to Tegan, at a companionable distance.

‘You’re sure you’ll be safe from here?’

‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ Tegan said, with a chuckle. ‘I imagine after almost being kidnapped, a quiet courtyard with a sleeping donkey may be a step too far.’

The phantom smiled.

‘Fair point. Dan is rather a handful, isn’t he.’

Tegan raised an eyebrow.

‘How do you know he’s called Dan?’

‘Er’- the phantom’s face blanched for a second, before regaining its prior confidence-‘Miss Nyssa told me.’

‘I’m starting to think Nyssa tells you a lot,’ Tegan said. ‘I hope you have no designs on the pastors daughter?’

‘Why would- no!’ the phantom exclaimed, startled. ‘Obviously not!’

Tegan let out a laugh.

‘Oh, I’m only messing with you,’ she said, still chuckling. ‘I like to think Nyssa has better sense that to get mixed up with highwayman.’

The phantom stared at her for a second, before letting out a small laugh of their own. The highwayman then climbed off the horse, and stood in front of Tegan.

‘But… you do not?’

‘Apparently not, no,’ Tegan cheeked back, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. She took a step closer. ‘Thank you for the rescue; I must admit, I can understand why you are considered something of a folk hero around here.’

The phantom smiled, and gave a short bow.

‘No thanks needed,’ they replied, smiling as they straightened up. ‘The least I could do. I hope that we can become… friends, of a sort.’

Their grey-green eyes glistened in the half-light.

Tegan smiled.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, smiling softly. ‘You have a way of sneaking into people’s hearts.’

Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the phantom’s cheek.

The phantom froze, and Tegan’s brown eyes met the grey-green. Their breath seemed to catch in both of their throats.

‘E-er, anyway, thank you!’ Tegan exclaimed, stammering as she turned away. ‘M-much appreciated; have a good night!’

As she hurried to the side door of the inn, Tegan found her face beginning to flush. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and she was certain that she was perspiring. The mind of the innkeepers daughter was aflutter as she desperately tried to understand what she had just done.

WhydidIdothatwhydidIdothat-

The door closed behind her.

The phantom stood, in the empty courtyard. There was silence aside from the gentle snores of Dan the donkey, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The evening air was cool. The village had turned in for the night.

The masked figure reached up to the spot on their cheek where Tegan’s lips had brushed. A slight blush began to coat their skin and, behind the mask that covered her eyes, Nyssa Traken stared up at the first floor window of the inn that housed the young woman she adored.

~~~~~~~~~~

DUN-DUN-DUN XD And the identity of our mysterious highwayman is finally revealed (well done to everyone who was able to guess correctly).

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it; I always love a good cliffhanger!

[spacecasehobbit]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you to @erisenyo for the tag! Some of these look tough, haha.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 47

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 201,583

3. What fandoms do you write for? Quite a few! On ao3, I've got the most posted fics for Captain America and Stranger Things, but I've got a few more AtLA fic ideas that @erisenyo is great at encouraging me to return to and play around with a bit more every so often, and my current obsession is Saltburn. (If you dug into my fandom history there'd be even more fic - mostly on fanfiction.net, with a few more scattered across other, smaller sites and various fandom specific prompt memes - but you'll have to do that digging yourself if you want those answers :p)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 4/5 of these are for Stranger Things, which I think has more to do with: a) the popularity of the Stranger Things Harringrove fandom, and b) the fact that they were written in the earliest days of the Harringrove fandom right after S2 came out, and thus when there were already a ton of new fans but not many fics yet; for the popularity of those particular fics compared to others which I think were objectively better written.

Aftermath

2. In the Darkness (We are Free)

3. Acting Out

4. Bending, Breaking, and Backing Down

5. Overheating

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! (Though occasionally it takes a few days, and I admit it falls off for comments on older works.)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I wrote quite a few fics for the Hydra Trash Party back when that was big, so a lot of those had angsty endings, lol. Of those that got posted to ao3, Mirages of Matchstick Men might have the angstiest ending? Several of my Stranger Things fics have angsty endings, too, as do various other fics I've written. Apparently I'm fond of them, even though I prefer happy endings most of the time when reading other people's work, haha.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Somehow, in spite of how much I enjoy reading happy endings, only a surprisingly low percentage of my current ao3 fics have them.

My current Saltburn fic, Good Things Come (To Those Who Wait), will have a pretty happy ending (in fact, that ending is already largely written, and I'm just working on filling in the middle bits - which is happening, even if I've been busy this summer as well!). At the moment, however, the next chapter to be posted is a deep dive into the two main characters getting worse before they get better.

I Get High With a Little Help from My Friends is one of my few Captain America fics which is good for a bit of hurt/comfort and a nice, fluffy happy ending without too much hurt anywhere.

I think my AtLA fic, Acting Out, also counts as a pretty happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really? Especially not these days, though I did start fic writing on fanfiction.net back in the days when a lot of people would get hate comments just for writing any non-canon m/m fic. So, I probably got a nasty comment or two back then that I've chosen to forget about. I think I also got a nasty comment once for an HTP fic, but it was on the HTP dreamwidth meme and that thread got frozen pretty quick by the meme moderator, while plenty of other lovely people chimed in with positive comments.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yep, lol. I've written everything from extremely kinky and very explicit smut (in HTP and for a few other fandoms!) to pretty vanilla to only a tad more explicit than fade-to-black sex, depending on the story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not generally. Occasionally I'll read them if they really catch my eye, but I'm not sure what the "craziest" one would be...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes: Mirages of Matchstick Men. It was a little Bucky-centric fic that I wrote for a weekly flashfic prompt challenge, and it was translated into Russian by Magdalena_sylar on ao3!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not. It's an idea that interests me, but I can imagine it's an endeavor that could go south easily and would need a solid working relationship + good communication established in advance to have the best chance of going well.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Ohhh, man. This is a tough one. I am a consumate multishipper who has played around in a lot of different fandoms, and I'm not sure I have a single all-time favorite at this point. Current favorite is Cattonquick from Saltburn, and I've had a very long-running love for Gigolas from LotR, ever since I first read the books as a kid (though I haven't ever written my own fic for that second one, funny enough!).

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Another difficult one! I get lots of ideas, but only a few of them wind up getting all the way to fully written fic stage. Possibly the AtLA prequel to a long fic I've discussed ideas for at length with @erisenyo, from which the longer fic might eventually get written but the prequel may not....

16. What are your writing strengths? I'm 100% the, "you are your own harshest critic," type of person, so this was both a difficult and probably overall a good question for me to try and answer, lol. For the actual storytelling aspect, I've often gotten good comments about my characterization, so I can probably count that as a strength. In general, I can say that I'm very good at the technical aspects of writing, and I am quite good at editing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Almost certainly: keeping my mind focused on one thing at a time/finishing one project before I let myself get distracted by another. I'm working on that one, though! (I will admit that writing a whole graduate thesis a few years back probably helped a lot on the self-discipline angle...)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I generally don't try that one, in part because I don't trust myself not to mangle it horribly.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I've been writing fic for over half my life now (which still feels a bit crazy to think about!), and I'm not honestly 100% sure what fandom the very first fic I wrote was for. It was Harry Potter that first got me into fanfiction, though, and all the first fics I read were for Harry Potter.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Going to quote @erisenyo here and say - This is impossible to answer! I have some older fics that I'm very fond of for nostalgia, fics for small fandoms that I love as expressions of my love for said fandoms even if they don't get much notice, and newer fics that I think are really good examples of how much my writing has grown since I was a teenager.

If I had to pick one fic for now, I think I'd pick Acting Out. It's the second AtLA fic I wrote, and one that was inspired by having read a lot of the, "GAang finds out how Zuko got his scar," fics on ao3 and realizing that none of them quite hit what I was most looking for in that genre. I think that fic is one of my best - if not the best of my fics - both in prose style and in achieving what I set out to do with it.

And I will tag: @rhaegang, @nythtak, @sulkybender, anyone else who wants to do this!

[gauchestardust]

Lipstick - a RenRuki fanficfion.

In the Kuchiki manor, Rukia sits on the floor, Renji, who got invited by the girl, does the same, as the only thing separating them is the kotatsu. The manor's ambient is silent and solitary. The duo doesn't share a single word – they've been together since they were kids, Renji always talked to Rukia about literally anything. A mutual trust. The two shinigami know very well they can tell anything to each other. But this time: something's off. Both shinigami avoid each other's stares. Their faces are pink, red even, and hot too. It's like they were in a hot summer, although it's actually a very cold winter in Soul Society.

After what feels to be an eternity of silence, the red-haired shinigami finally speaks up. "So, Rukia...what have you been up to these days? I've been too busy working with Kuchiki-taicho– your brother. And...yeah, we didn't see each other a lot." He asks. In the same moment, the black-haired girl replies. "Ah, I think I've been okay. Matsumoto-san from the 10th division asked me to go shopping with her. I tried to tell her i needed to finish my duties with Ukitake-taichou, but well, it's Matsumoto Rangiku...she obviously haven't heard me." She replies.

"Ehh? And what have you two bought?"

"Well- a lot of clothes for Matsumoto-san, and she also offered herself to buy some dresses for me. And that's what she did." Sigh. "And also...a lipstick."

"Lipstick?? Really, Rukia? I don't think I remember ever seeing you wearing those."

"She told me it would be a great idea! For a..." At the moment Rukia formulates this phrase, her face slowly turns pinker than it already was. "...a certain reason."

"Oh really? And what would THAT reason be?" Renji comes closer to Rukia's face, with a smirk, as the girl tells him to shut up. "Mhm? Come on!"

"Ngh...!" She groans, pulling the redhead away. She gets up, walking to the closest dressing table. She approaches the small mirror and slowly applies the pink lipstick. Rukia does it in a slow pace, trying to seduce Renji (jokingly www). And surprisingly, it worked...! When the black-haired girl put the piece of makeup down, she saw him blushing even more.

"She looks so...h-hot..." Thinks Renji Abarai to himself, and quickly notices Rukia doing a gesture with her hand – a sign of 「come closer ♡」 – an opportunity he surely doesn't want to lose. The red-haired shinigami looks at his surroundings. "...well...Byakuya-taichou isn't here. Which means YOUR BROTHER isn't here. S-so..."

Renji gets up and walks to Rukia. Their huge size difference is noticeable. The male red-haired shinigami is so tall, being impressively 188cm (6'2 ft.), while the female black-haired shinigami is so petite, being just 144cm (4'9 ft.) – and he LOVES IT in her. He easily lifts her up, squeezing her small waist. She's just like a goddess in all ways! But that doesn't matter. At least not for now. It's time for Renji Abarai to feast the main course: her lips. This make him feel like fainting...!

They want to lose control. Renji wants to play with Rukia's lips, coated by that pink lipstick – it even has a scent, cherries...probably has a taste too.

"Ready?" The star asks.

"You bet I am." The stray dog replies.

But in the moment their lips are almost touching, both just pull away, blushing. "A-agh...! I don't know if I can do this...! I've never done this before..." The short shinigami groans, holding on her hairlocks. As for the tall shinigami, letting out a small sigh, gently holds her by the cheeks. Oh god...she's so soft, like a little bunny...

"Yo, Rukia. Don't worry, okay? Y-you know it's also my first kiss." He grins. "I gotta be honest. Since we've begun to get closer to each other...even before training to be shinigami...I have always dreamed of having you on m-my arms...you know, kissing you...–"

"..." Rukia doesn't know what to say. She just keeps listening.

"And y'know...knowing my first kiss will actually be with you...i-it's so— m-mhm...?!?!"

Renji looks down, only to see he got interrupted by Rukia, pulling him by the yukata's collar, on the tip of her toes. Her lips finally touches his. A kiss that starts kindly, but slowly turns into a hot kiss, as Renji holds Rukia on his arms, sharing the pinnacle of passion for a silly duo of teen lieutenants.

He responds to this, pinning her on the floor, with her arms open, as the kiss keeps going. Not only their lips touch, but their tongues too. Rukia lets out soft moans, squirming in pleasure. "Renji~...o-oh my god...~" She says, breaking the kiss. "T-that was...wonderful...magical..."

"Ehehe...y-yeah...that was awesome, Rukia. Look, thank you so much. Thanks for being my first one." Renji speaks up, thanking her. He have always known, but now it's definitive: he wants to be with Rukia Kuchiki forever. He wants to marry, have a life with her.

But before he could even finish the phrase, this time he gets pinned in the floor. He looks at Rukia pinning him, seeing a smirk on her face. He's going to get rewarded.

.

.

.

Now, the only things heard inside the Kuchiki manor were kissing, smooching noises and the male shinigami moaning. And after that, Rukia picked up the small mirror from the dresser and showed it to Renji. The redhead had the best vision he'd ever seen on his entire life, his reflection, his loose hair, as Rukia untied it during their moment; his face full of her lipstick marks, not only face, but neck too. And it's obvious that the shorter shinigami wouldn't stop right there.

"Well~ since my brother isn't here...we can make the most of our little fun time. Let's just hope no one comes at us now~" Rukia says, trying to act seductively. Turns out she's not the absolute best at this, but Renji loves it anyway.

"Oh god. Why not? We're lieutenants, we gotta have a break sometime." Renji gets up, picking up Rukia and carrying her to her room. It's so...so adorable. He puts her down on the bed and decides to take a look at the room.

It's full of bunny related things, especially related to chappy. There's some dresses scattered in the closet, the dresses Rangiku bought to Rukia, and also that dress Uryu made for her. And also...he notices something on the counter, he looks closer and picks it up.

It's that Chappy keychain he gave her while she was hurt, resting on that futon. He bought to her but turns out at the time, Ukitake-taichou gave her a HUGE Chappy, bigger than Soul Society as a whole. He got very envious and jealous at the time. He looks at the Chappy keychain, seeing she took great care of it, she actually loved it...it's a dear gift for her. Despite not being very used to affection, those gifts were the embodiment of heaven to Rukia. Gifts that comforted her.

The two lieutenants look at each other as Renji walks to Rukia and hugs her. "I love you." That's what they say at the same time, descending into their little heavenly moment of kissing — with love, a small temporary paradise for them.

.

.

.

Some days after their act, Rukia encounters Rangiku walking on the snowy streets, wearing a charming, pink scarf. "Ah, Matsumoto-san...!" The shorter girl calls her attention. The busty woman turns to her, examining Rukia with her blue eyes.

"Oh? Oh, hey, Kuchiki-chan!" She grins, leaning at her. "Why are you speaking to me all of sudden? I thought you'd be busy." Rangiku says, chuckling. Rukia just rolls her eyes.

"I just wanted to thank you..." She says, looking at Rangiku's grin turning into a confused face. She then explains. "You know...thank you for giving me that lipstick. It was because of it I could...a-agh..." She pulls the taller woman closer and whispers in her ear. "I-I filled Renji with kisses...and he loved it."

"Y-you what?!?! My my...! I'm so happy for you, Rukia...how was it? Did you two enjoy the moment?" The busty lady asks gently, seeming genuinely happy for Rukia. "You deserve it! You two are so close to each other...it was already expected."

Rukia blushes, looking away. "Y-yeah. But anyways...thank you so much, Matsumoto-san...I could finally kiss him...well, we can...go shopping later in the human world if you want to." The black-haired girl smiles and then walks away.

Rangiku Matsumoto waves to Rukia as she walks away. Then, she turns to walk back to the 10th division. "She's so happy, it's adorable. It surely worked. I'm so glad I could help her in love~"

Additional notes: look, this was my first...long fanfiction? since the others i have made were too short, though that ive never submitted them. i will post this one on AO3...when i have the motivation to.

i'm not used to writing these, but i hope you all like it. i'm a fan of renruki (i want to find more merch of them but it's so hard to find in aliexpress...), and to satisfy my renruki needs, i wrote this. hope you like it.