#ironically I sneezed while writing this

[sneezyonmain]

what if someone got edged for so long that someone sneezing on their cock/pussy was enough to send them over the edge, completely untouched and twitching and leaking.

[fluffyllamas-23]

Can I request some super sick Steve with a bad cold/sinus infection and Bucky being all cute and protective? Canon or AU! Thank you :))

Okay so I somehow missed the part of your ask where you requested that Bucky be cute and protective. I think I got the cute thing, but not sure about the protective thing. I hope you like it anyways! I'm on a real Stucky kick and this was so fun to write.

(Modern AU Stucky with post-serum Steve bod bc I can lol)

“Which pumpkin do you want?” Bucky asks, hands on his hips as he stares down at the pumpkins in the pumpkin patch they’re visiting.. 

Steve shrugs, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as he shivers. “I’m good with whatever. Hey, can we stop for hot chocolate or tea or something on our way home? I’m freezing.”

“God that sounds incredible. Absolutely.”

Steve sniffles, rubbing at his nose. He reaches down to pick up one of the pumpkins near his feet. “hhh’ISCHih! Snff! Sorry. This is a good one.”

“Bless you. That is a good one,” Bucky agrees, looking at the large, round, bright orange pumpkin that Steve has in his hands. Steve adjusts the pumpkin, holding it like one might hold a baby on their hip.

When Bucky just stares down at the other pumpkins without making any move to pick one, Steve quirks a brow at him, “so…are you going to make a decision for yours, or are we going to be out here all night?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “it’s a very important decision.”

“Clearly.”

“Can’t pick the wrong one.”

A tickle blooms in his sinuses, and he rubs at his nose again, trying to ward off the impending sneeze. “Oh god no. Can’t have that. World War III might start if you pick the wrong pumpkin.”

“So you see my dilemma.”

Steve turns away from Bucky, “Ih’tschiew! Nng’tsch! Snff! Excuse me.”

“Bless you, sweetheart. Okay, I think I found one.” He says, walking a few feet to pick up one of the pumpkins he’s had his eye on since they got there. 

“Well thank god for that,” Steve chuckles. “I was starting to worry we’d die here before you ever made up your mind.”

“I’d probably have gotten us out before we died,” Bucky says. Steve is still fussing with his nose when Bucky looks up at him. He looks deeply bothered. Bucky’s eyes soften, “hey…you okay?”

Steve nods, trying not to wince when he swallows past the sudden sharp, raw feeling in his throat. “Cold and windy out. That always bothers my nose.”

“Let’s get you warm, then. Still want to stop for tea or whatever?” 

His breath hitches again, and he muffles a volley of sneezes into the crook of his arm.  He nods, sniffling and trying once again to get rid of the itch that just does not want to leave his sinuses. 

He scrunches his nose. “Y-yeah that s-hih…hih’TSCH! Tsch! Ihhh…hih’tSCH! Snff! That sounds ndice-hhh’ISCHih! h’sschUH! SnffSnff!...Snff! Oh mby god, sorry. Do we have andy tissues in the car?” Congestion seeping into his voice, blurring all of his consonants together. 

“I’m not sure…are you feeling okay, Stevie?” Bucky says cautiously. 

Steve grimaces, “I think I might be getting a cold.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky frowns, nudging him with his shoulder as they walk to pay for their pumpkins. 

“It’s ndot a big deal,” Steve sniffles. “I’mb finde. I really dond’t feel that bad.”

“Okay…you promise?” Bucky says, and they both set their pumpkins down to be weighed. He hands the man behind the till his credit card and looks over at Steve.

Steve holds up three fingers, “scout’s hondor.”

“You sound like shit.”

“Gee, thagks. I’mb finde. I swear. It’s just a cold. I’ll take sombe mbeds whend we get hombe and ndap.”

Bucky decides to drop it, but he suspects that Steve is bullshitting him.  The fact that he’s volunteering to take medication and have a nap instead of needing Bucky to sweet talk him into it is suspicious as hell. This never happens unless Steve feels downright awful. 

But he isn’t going to get anywhere by forcing the issue if Steve isn’t ready to admit he feels awful. 

So Bucky pretends he believes Steve.

*

“I’mb finde,” Steve says sharply as Bucky casts him what feels like the umpteenth concerned glance that car ride. “Stop looki’gg at mbe like that.”

He’s spent the majority of their drive to the coffee shop, and now on their way home, sneezing and coughing and sniffling. He’s sounding worse and worse, and Bucky can’t help the fact that he’s worried. 

He’d been fine this morning, albeit a bit tired-looking and sounding, but nowhere near this level. It just kind of seems like it hit him out of nowhere with zero warning.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” He says nonchalantly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulls onto their street. 

“Y-yes you-hihhh…oh for the love of god-hih’TSCH! Tsch! Ihhh…hih’tSCH! Snff! hhh’ISCHih! h’sschUH! Snff!” He sighs in frustration as Bucky pulls into the driveway.

“Bless-”

“-Dond’t say it,” Steve grumbles, rubbing his forehead. All of the sneezing has given him the worst headache. It’s throbbing and pounding behind his eyes and in his forehead, and he doesn’t care for it one bit.

“Stevie, come on,” Bucky says softly, putting a hand on his thigh.  It’s like the touch melts him completely, and he suddenly deflates, sniffling pitifully. “It’s me. You don’t have to hide how you feel with me.”

Steve sighs in defeat. He’s right. There’s really no point in denying it any longer. He knows Bucky isn’t buying it.

He sure wouldn’t.

“I dond’t feel great, Buck.”

“I know,” Bucky says gently, giving Steve such a soft look, he could cry.  “Come on, let’s get you inside. You can change and pick out something to watch and I’ll grab you some meds. Sound good?

Steve coughs into the crook of his elbow, “yeah that sou’ds great.”

*

“Okay, I really think we need to get you to a doctor,” Bucky frowns, looking down at the thermometer. “That, or this thermometer is broken.” 

He had thought Steve felt warm while they were cuddling, but he wasn’t expecting the number it beeped in at. 

“What’s it at?”

“102.4.”

“....Oh,” Steve mumbles, taking stock of how he feels. He grimaces when the conclusion he comes to is really bad. “Ndo, I thiggk that’s right.”

He’s been sick going on five days now, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting any better. He’s getting worse, in fact. He’s been so congested and sniffly and sneezy that he was having a hard time getting any sleep. All meds did was take the edge off, but not enough to let him get more than a couple of hours at a time before he was awake again. 

He’s exhausted and achy, and Bucky hates how listless he’s been.

“How are you feeling? What’s bothering you?”

“Awful. Everythi’gg. Mby face hurts,” Steve groans, eyes closing. He feels so congested that his eyes feel swollen.

Bucky winces, “I think you might have a sinus infection, Stevie.”

Steve feels his face gingerly before inhaling sharply and dropping his hands. “Ow.”

“God, yeah, this definitely sounds like a sinus infection.” Bucky groans, “let’s go to urgent care…get you some antibiotics, maybe some steroids…and stronger pain meds.”

“Cand we go later? I’mb tired.”

“Sweetheart, the sooner we go, the quicker you’ll feel better,” Bucky says, stroking Steve’s cheek. “I know you don’t feel well and going to urgent care is the last thing you want to do, but you need medical attention.”

It takes some more convincing, but eventually, Steve relents. 

Or, rather, Steve allows himself to be bribed with a milkshake (and as much soup and as many snuggles as he could possibly want). All this in exchange for being a good patient (and not a pain in the ass, which were stipulations Bucky may or may not have added to their agreement), and going to the doctor. 

*

Finally, after what feels like forty eight hours, they’re finally home from urgent care. Bucky claims it was only three hours, but Steve thinks he’s probably lying to spare his feelings. 

He’s not sure why Bucky would need to spare his feelings, but there’s also no way that only took three hours. 

They’ve been to the pharmacy already and have picked up his antibiotics and steroids, as well as the milkshake Steve was promised. 

“Okay,” Bucky says, shutting the door behind them. “I’m going to put these away, you go get comfy in bed and I’ll bring you your meds and some tea and then we can cuddle while you nap.”

“That’s a great pland,” Steve sniffles. 

“I thought you might like that,” Bucky smiles, stroking Steve’s cheek. “Let’s get you feeling better, yeah?”

They go up the stairs into their bedroom, and settle in for another quiet few days until Steve is finally feeling better. 

They also finally carve those pumpkins.

[oddaesthetin]

sunny days — yoon jeonghan

————

“aigoo. you really have got to get out of here.”

awoken from the sound, you grunted as you tried to find where the voice was coming from. just near the bedroom door stands your hannie, with both arms resting at both sides of his hips. you whined and closed your eyes as you felt your energy depleting again.

it was monday, and you really have no plans whatsoever to spend the day. after two weeks of being completely eaten out by a very important presentation at work, your two days off were the only ones you had long anticipated. and it’s not that you didn’t miss spending time with your boyfriend, but he’s mostly been here with you on the two weeks you were killing yourself over work, so you’re pretty sure he’s aware of what you’ve been through.

“no, like seriously, when was the last time you actually went out and just basked in the sun?” footsteps nearing your bed, you raised your head again and looked at him with sleepy eyes.

“don’t know and don’t care, hannie. i’m so tired,” you said in a groggy voice, hoping he’d feel even just a little bit of pity and not make you go out. “besides, since when were you the one to be excited to ‘go out and bask in the sun’? last time i checked, you’re the type to hibernate longer than a dormouse.”

fast forward to 40 minutes later, you found yourself getting dragged by jeonghan outside your apartment complex. something about how you needed the sun’s vitamin D for your bones (because you spent the past weeks sitting and grouching on your work desk) was what made him win the argument. where to, still unknown. but since he’s the one who asked you out, you’re pretty confident he’s prepared for this.

-

“lovie, don’t you feel much better?”

as much as you wanted to disagree, fortunately, unfortunately, he’s right. after a few quick trips to several cafés on a bread and pastry hunt, you spent the remaining time before sunset walking along the pathways of a small trail near the mountains. indeed, you needed the sun so badly that you started running excitedly as soon as you saw the familiar trail. to give more context, this was the trail you and jeonghan often frequented when you just started dating. you remember considering this place as a hideaway when you were still not used to adjusting to each other’s schedules. 2 years later and everything remains the same— from the fresh smell of the leaves from the pine trees brought by the cold winds to the glowing scarlet orange sky. anyone who would come here, stressed or not, would be delighted in a minute.

“yes,” you answered shortly. childishly plucking off some of the dandelions disseminated along the field, then sneezing right after you idiotically attempted to smell them. jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh at the behavior. you’re just like a cat.

“someday, i’ll build a house on a place like this. sooo refreshing.”

“wow, really saying that while rubbing your nose off your face? couldn’t be more ironic, love.”

sighing, jeonghan went to your side to gently slap your hands away from your face. he pulled out a handkerchief in his pocket and started using that in an attempt to remove any remaining pollen in your hands. despite your complaining about treating you like a child, he won the argument for the second time on this day.

“ooh, but i do get you, tho. remember that piano scene from crash landing on you? wasn’t that in switzerland? the place looks so chilly and vibrant. maybe we could buy a house there in the future.”

feeling lighthearted, you made a joke, “what, like, you proposin’ to me or somethin’?” while annoyingly raising your brow up and down at him. not quite a common sight, but the faint embarrassed expression he quickly hid behind a grin did not escape your eyes. he playfully swatted your face and stood up.

“who said you’re gonna live with me? i’m just planning to include you in the buying process then i’ll leave you alone here.”

“i’ll secretly write my name as the sole owner then. i’d be so quick you won’t even notice me stealing your pen, asshole.”

your boyfriend laughed again; not because of your silliness but because of the happenstance of what you said. such an irony, truly. he shook his head as he thought.

by the time he was finished having an internal monologue, you were already walking far away from him, still preying on the variety of dandelions scattered wildly at the trail. the previous lassitude on your face is now gone. he eventually caught up to you and stopped you from walking by holding your hand as he pointed the other to the sun that is now in its setting glory. as cliche as it looks like, the day ended with you both being completely entranced by the scene.

unbeknownst to you, somewhere along the streets of lake brienz already lies a home unneeding of your clever plan. you must have forgotten already, he deemed. but it’s still clear as day in his mind how you had mentioned of switzerland before. it’s still a secret though. making sure not to mess up an even bigger surprise he plans on giving you, he grinned again at himself.

jeonghan rarely plans dates, but when he does, it always ends up being more than what your heart can long for.

—

© oddaesthetin 2024

[rosemary-writes]

How he holds you

(Lost boys x gender neutral reader headcanons)

Warnings: Marko being a lil cheeky

Authors note: heeeyy chickens, long time no see♡I transferred to university and I have little to no time to write stuff like this anymore. Buut since it’s October, I gotta do my fav boys

David

-David doesn’t really hold you per say. You more or less cling and hold on to him.

-He doesn’t like seeming too vulnerable or soft when in public. Especially while on the boardwalk and the surf nazis are out and about

-However, if you’re standing next to him, he will casually put his hand on the back of yours. Theres something about his palm resting on your hand that just makes him feel content

-When you two are in the cave and hes sitting in his chair or on the couch, he always beckons you to sit on his lap. While you’re on his lap, he’ll snake his arm around your back and rest his hand on your thigh or butt.

-While he says its to “keep hold of what's his” it’s also so your back isnt digging into the metal of his wheelchair.

-It’s old and rusty and he doesnt really want you to be squirming cause it’s hurting your skin

-Some nights when the two of you are alone or you had a bad day, he lets you lay on his chest while he lays down on the couch.

-Your hands fall to his chest and his arms will wrap around you to keep you pressed comfortably against him.

-Even though his heart no longer beats, you swear you sometimes hear faint thumps when you mumble how much you love him into his chest

-Overall 6/10 cause he only holds you back every few weeks.

Dwayne

-Dwayne isn’t afraid to wrap an arm around your waist or hips while in public. It’s his way of showing people that you’re his partner and to keep you close to him

-He’ll sometimes put his fingers through your belt loops

-When meeting up in public, he’ll loosely wrap his arms around your hips while giving you a kiss. When meeting you in private, like at your house, he will actually give you a decent hug

-I like to think that Dwayne will link pinkies with you while walking around the boardwalk sometimes. He thinks it’s really sweet.

-When you two are in the cave, he’ll come up behind you and snake his arms around you and rest his head on your shoulder. His stubble tends to tickle your neck a bit

-he might take in a big inhale of your scent

-When you two cuddle, hes pulling you so close to him that you’re practically smothering him

-He loves it

-His hands will move all over the place. Your back, hips, thighs, butt, maybe one in your hair

-If you fall asleep, hes on cloud 9. He’ll most likely move you both into a small nest spot in the cave and either fall asleep with you or stay awake to watch you sleep. If you guys are at your place, he watches over you while you sleep.

-10/10 cause his cuddles are top notch

Paul

-Paul can’t keep his hands to himself so hes holding you all the damn time.

-Had a bad day? Let him hold you, he wants to make you feel better

-Theres a puddle on the ground? He’ll carry you over it

-Yikes babe, your shoe is untied, guess he’s gotta hold you so you don’t trip

-Yeah, hes very touchy

-Out on the boardwalk he loves to hold your hands. Like, he hates having to let go of your hand if you have to do something.

-Heaven forbid you want to eat or need to sneeze

-On the occasions where he takes you flying with him, he keeps you so close to him. He would never drop you but theres been a few times where you slipped from his grasp and it spooked you. So, he’ll have an iron grip on you while flying over the ocean or Santa Carla

-If you’re ever with him when he’s having a smoke sesh, he goes to maximum handsyness. God help you if you need to pee

-Like Dwayne, his hands are going everywhere, but hes gripping you as if you’re going to float away.

-He loves keeping you close because you’re so warm against his cold body. His cold hands will slip under your shirt and move around. He’s not trying to tickle you, he just loves how warm your back is.

-9.5/10 because his hands are cold as hell

Marko

-Marko’s not as handsy as the others

-Once in a blue moon, Marko lets you wrap your arms around him and he will envelop you in his jacket. It’s warm and it’s a really rare soft moment with him. It only happens when you forget a jacket and you’re both on the boardwalk and it’s freezing. Surprisingly, hes warm because of how thick his jacket is

-However, he mostly keeps a hand in your back pocket or he’ll pinch your butt. If hes showing you something, he takes your hand to lead you.

-Thats about as far as it goes in public.

-However, in private, it is a totally different scene

-He likes to hold you from behind. He sneaks up and wraps his arms around you while shoving his face into your hair

-He’ll only do this when no one is around. He does not want the others to see him like this.

-He does like to cuddle with you. He’s the big spoon and youre always the little spoon

-The feeling of your body expanding while breathing tends to calm him down since he easily gets wound up.

-While spooning you, he’ll lean forward just a bit to kiss you on the cheek. He will also sometimes entwine your hands and kiss the back of your hand.

-He warms up underneath the covers with you.

-Moments like that remind him that it’s okay to be relaxed with others

-I give him a 7/10

[suhkusa]

It’s on the last day of your break you realize.

It was truly an ordinary day, in fact, it was like every other day you two had spent together beforehand. 

It was there, as you lay on the opposite end of the couch from Osamu, that you would lay your heart out for him.

You could hear the TV playing in the background, along with the sound of the game that Osamu played on his phone. But even so, you felt hyper aware of him.

All the little habits that you had grown used to and simply brushed off growing up beside him, were finally beginning to come to the light. The way his pinkies had little indents from holding his phone a specific way for so long. The way his eye would twitch right before he sneezed. The way he would blow at the hair that rested on his forehead.

And right now, you could feel it more than ever. You like Osamu Miya.

There was a point in time where you thought a future with him was simply impossible. And while there were many things that obstructed that future, it finally felt like it was clear and you were certain.

A part of you thinks that almost losing him made you realize that he meant more to you than you thought. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever.

“‘Samu,” there’s a look in your eyes that causes his own eyes to widen. Like he knows what you’re about to say.

“Yes?” he’s sitting up a bit, and it causes your nerves to go haywire.

“I like you, and,” there’s a pause. You know what you want to say but you’re nervous. Which is ironic, considering you’ve never been more sure of your feelings.

“I want to try. With you, I mean,” he smiles, and you swear it’s the biggest you’ve seen.

Osamu leans over to your side, and grabs your hands. “We can take it slow, if that’s what ya want?”

You can feel the heat run straight to the tips of your ears. You can’t speak so you nod in its place.

You can’t speak, and you find that it seems like he can’t either. So you don’t. 

Instead, a hand comes up to cup your cheek. His hands are soft, like they’ve always been.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning in until you notice his closeness. Not until you finally register that he’s kissing you. It’s different. It feels real and it feels like home. 

Home.

That’s what Osamu Miya was to you. And although it took too long to finally find it, you were here.

Home sweet home.

BOTH AIN’T SH!T ( OSAMU VER.) — HOME SWEET HOME

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

osamu never let go of y/n’s hand while driving (he almost crashed)

suna slept on the couch bcs y/n and osamu were too “lovey dovey”

atsumu was vulnerable at the time he got with remi BUT his feelings for her are real and getting stronger everyday

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[notreallysorryxx]

#"Fluffy"

You and Angel Dust dance in the rain and deal with the aftermath.

Characters: Angel Dust

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff! hehe

Note: I actually struggled writing the way he talks, so I barely gave him any dialogue. I apologise, but Hazbin Hotel characters are hard to write for. And also, I didn't really want to write Angel Dust smut because the poor man needs a break. So here's some innocent romance.

Words: 1k

There was something so morbidly beautiful about the red rain. When you had first arrived in Hell, you hated the rain. It had a disgusting metallic stench and it felt horrid on your skin. However, that was months or possibly years ago and your opinion had changed since then. Especially since you got to experience that with your lover, Angel Dust.

Walking down the sidewalk under an umbrella with him felt like Heaven, ironically enough. His presence was comforting, his silver tongue music to your ears. Angel always offered to hold the umbrella too, despite your protests. But you couldn't deny that it was easier for him to hold it because of his 4 arms. No matter where the two of you went, he kept one arm wrapped around you. Angel was clingy and you found it adorable. He wasn't just clingy, but he was rather protective of you too. The lecherous gaze of other sinners were always met with a glare from your boyfriend.

For once, the rain was bothering you. You just wanted a nice date at a local scenic spot. Well, as scenic as you could get in Hell. It was supposed to be romantic, something different than usual. There was no special occasion, you just wanted to spoil Angel. It was the most you could give him after he had been working all day.

Unfortunately, rain hadn't been on the forecast which meant you and Angel weren't prepared. Neither of you brought an umbrella. With a frown, you look up at the sky miserably. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to mind, smiling absentmindedly.

"I've got an idea, toots," he winks. You're surprised when Angel offers one of his hands. "May I have this dance?" he asks teasingly. It's enough to tear a giggle from your lips, forgetting about the wretched weather. This isn't so bad, you think as you twirl in the rain with Angel. You could get used to this. Angel hums an unrecognisable tune as he dances with you, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter.

Multiple sinners around you were running for cover, but you ignored them. Forget everyone else, you were too enraptured in this dance with your lover.

You couldn't help the grin on your face as Angel dipped you. The both of you locked eyes, laughing. To bypassers, you probably look like idiots.

"Y'know, you're a pretty good dancer, babe," Angel coos, pressing a quick tiny kiss to your cheek. You scrunch up your nose from the ticklish feeling of his fluff. He chuckles at that, flicking your forehead.

Although it is fun dancing in the rain with the love of your life, it's probably not the best to stay in it. Despite being dead, sinners and hellborn still manage to get sick. You found out the hard way. A sneeze from you signals that yeah, you should both get back to the hotel.

Getting a taxi in Hell while it's raining is well... it's Hell. But Angel's popularity really helps in these scenarios. Even though you don't like using his popularity for benefits, you're thankful for it now. While the both of you sit in the back of the taxi cab, Angel holds you close to his fluffy chest. You let your face rest in his chest, nuzzling it.

Usually you'd both be bantering right now, but neither you nor Angel wants to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that's been provided by the rain.

The drive back to the hotel stays peaceful, Angel continuing to hold you close as you both shiver. It's cold now that you've gotten out of the rain. The jacket you had brought was soaked and couldn't be used for warmth anymore.

Finally arriving at the hotel, Angel carries you up the stairs and to his bedroom. You take a quick shower with Angel, drying him off. Drying him off is a longer process than drying off yourself. It's almost like wiping down a wet animal because of his fluff. But you don't mind how long it takes. It feels almost domestic.

You watch in the mirror as Angel stands still for you to dry off. He's adorable and you always tell him that. Though he never believes you. You're often rebuted by him.

"I ain't cute," he would grumble.

"Of course you are," you'd always respond.

With a smile on your face, you kiss his cheek, "Angel~"

Angel practically melts, leaning back into your arms as you dry him off. He lets out a content sigh.

"Hm?"

"You know I adore you, right? I love you so much," you croon, pinching his cheek slightly. "And I think you're adorable-"

"Ah, not this shit again."

The both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

"Just accept it. You're cute. Adorable. Precious."

"I told you, that I'm not fucking-"

You cut him off as you pepper kisses on his face, narrowly missing his lips. Angel tries to grab your cheeks to place a solid kiss on your lips but you manage to wriggle away somehow. You evade him playfully, blocking his kisses.

In the end, he gives up with an endearing pout. You take pity on him, finally giving him the kiss he so desperately wanted.

"Now will you accept it?" you ask cheekily.

"Absolutely not-!"

By some miracle, you finish drying each other off, switching into dry clothes. You just quickly grab something from the stash of clothes you keep in Angel's room.

Before you know it, the two of you are wrapped in fuzzy blankets as you cuddle. Angel has all four of his arms around you.

He keeps you close, letting your head rest on his chest. "If anyone's cute, it's you, babe," he murmurs softly, eyes closing contentedly.

You huff, "I'm not, you are-"

"Let's not turn this into a challenge, toots. Because you know I'd win, obviously."

"No, I'd win!"

"In your dreams, loser-"

Safe to say that this argument lasted until the two of you passed out from exhaustion, still snuggled up together comfortably.

[lilpotatjj]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a Bella Ramsey one shot? I was thinking smut, with inexperienced reader x experienced Bella. I’m thinking either reader has had a crush on Bella foreverrr and asking Bella to take their virginity.

Or if you’re open to this idea,, corruption kink? Bella X innocent reader. In which Bella helps the reader out (ifykwim) because “best friends do this all the time” 🫣

A/N: Thank u so much anon for this beautiful idea of yours. I loved it to write. I'm sure I lost my innocents a second time after writing this😳 I hope it's close to what you wanted. Never wrote a corruption kink story.

Wordcount: 1,8k

Warning: SMUT, slightly dominant Bella and inexperienced AND innocent Fem!Reader, corruption kink! (I tried), fingering, pet names, language

Uses of She/Her

♡my desire for you♡ (18+)!

When does this pain end? a day? one week? a whole year?

You thought, but you still live with the thought of never being able to show Bella how much you are in love with her.

Too afraid of ruining everything you have. Besides, Bella doesn't seem to be looking for anything steady, more like just something fun.

You don't have any desire for anyone else. You always endure the pain when Bella has spent time with someone else and let off steam. A knock on your door. "ready to beat the shit out of some assholes?"

Bella holds the game The Last Of Us in her hand and waves it in front of your nose. You two are what you might call inseparable friends.

"Come in" you take the game from her and prepare it to play. "I'm going to take a shower, I had training" she winks playfully and disappears into the bathroom. "training....yes, sure..." you mutters to yourself.

She comes out of the bathroom barely covered with a towel. Great, always provoke me....it's not like I find you hot...you thought ironically.

"Bella grabs her clothes while you gaze at her intently. You both are generally very open about all the things in your lives.

Bella notices your look and smirks. "What? Nothing you've never seen before". Bella continues to change and your face flushes red. She sits down with you and looks in your eyes. "you look like you want to jump me" She quips and you quickly grab your controller.

Now Bella looks at you rather suspiciously. "You haven't let off steam in a while, have you?" Bella just smirks and you make an embarrassed face. "like....how....without a girlfriend...."

Bella's laugh disappears as quickly as it came and now looks at you seriously. "wait....you've never had one if you've been honest with me over the years" You look at her with puppy dog eyes. "but!......then, you...never had sex? with anyone?"

"caught, yes never" You start the game as if you just wished someone health after sneezing.

"No way!" She looks at you in complete surprise. "wow....how can you stand it?" Bella takes your controller and looks at you.

You can't look her in the face because it screams for Bella to finally touch you. "Y/N....." she carefully grabs your face and looks deep into your eyes. "tell me why...." It slowly dawns on Bella but you remain silent, which only confirms Bella's suspicions.

"The one I love is unattainable...." you whisper, she still has her hands on your face

"but she is always with you..." Bella finishes my sentence and a slight blush comes over her cheeks.

"You won't believe how much I've always wanted you to touch me like this" Bella's breath quickens and you come closer until finally your lips find each other. You kiss tenderly, as if you were just trying it out, but the kiss quickly turns into a fight for dominance, which Bella has under control.

Again and again a soft sigh comes out from both of you and Bella pushes you backwards, holds both of your arms and pins you to the floor. "stop ... you make me horny". Is all you bring shakily out.

The adrenaline is already boiling over. "What if I don't want to stop?" She starts kissing your neck and licking it tenderly again and again, only to hit your sensitive spot, which almost makes you lose your mind.

You can't help but moan softly. "You taste too good....this makes me really hungry" Bella licks her lips. "You look totally exhausted, and we haven't even done anything "totally embarrassed, you avoid her greedy gaze.

"And if I want more?" you look at her longingly, completely overwhelmed by all your feelings.

"you don't know what you're asking me....." She comes so close that the tips of your noses touch. "are you sure...?" She continues to kiss you lovingly on the neck and chin.

You just nod silently and try to ignore your heart, which is beating far too fast.

"I want to hear you....." her gaze totally insistent.

"yes...I want..." You struggle to speak through her tender kissing.

"What do you want!?" she couldn't look more intimidating.

"I want you to be the one....who...take my innocence" That sentence from you was like music to her ears. She lets go of you and can't help but smile cheekily and looks at your bed. "up there then I'll show you the true joy in life" You get up, completely excited and shy and sit down on the bed.

"So you want your best friend to give you a little help...." You sit on the edge of the bed, almost helpless as Bella sits on your lap and just kisses you, more demanding, claws at your hair and holds you firmly under control that you cannot escape.

You let yourself be carried away and sometimes a moan escapes between the kisses. The air is becoming more and more tense and the kissing almost turns into a bite. You feel the pure heat and lust throughout your body.

She starts undressing you, wants to challenge you and still show you how it works. "jeezzz...Bella...that feels so exciting"

Bella pushes you onto the bed. "take off your jeans" You obey almost like a little puppy and you are rid of your jeans.

Her gaze falls on your completely soaked panties. "So wet only for me...I don't know how you could stand it all these years...."

You look at her completely submissively. "It was pure agony..." Tears are slowly running down your temples.

"your so sweet baby" totally flashed by the sight of you, she gently kisses down your cheeks to the side and licks away a tear.

"take off your panties" you stroke the inside of her thighs and stop right in front of her midsection.

The thought of being completely exposed makes your heart almost explode, the reason you hesitate. "It's ok but we can't continue if you don't undress." Bella gives you a warm smile and you pull off your underwear which lands on the floor regardless. Too uncomfortable to be so innocent you put an arm over your eyes and bite your bottom lip.

"stop hiding...you're so fucking beautiful" Bella examines every corner of your body and takes your arm away from your face just to kiss you, while you're still a little tense.

"I want to kiss you everywhere!" Bella is getting more excited.

"go ahead...please.." you speak in a shaky voice. She doesn't need to be told twice and starts kissing your neck, slowly and greedily working her way down to your chest. You sigh under her kisses, look down at her as she tenderly plays her tongue around one of your nipples. One of her hands wanders to the other breast and plays with it curiously.

You start to relax and close your eyes slightly. "May I go further down?" Bella looks at you impatiently and her British accent almost drives you insane.

"please...yes go ahead" Bella grabs one of your legs over her shoulder, clasp it and with the other hand pushes your other leg slightly to the side to get as close as possible to the Garden of Eden" all that tingling makes you loosen up and you are slowly getting more and more impatient yourself.

Without thinking twice, she starts with soft kisses right on your clit, moves a little further down to lick your folds. "You taste so good" She tries to play with her tongue on your opening a little further, testing you and you can't help but groan louder one after another. "I'm going to try and stick a finger in there....gently. you're so wet...damn" You get really nervous but try to keep your composure.

"it's ok..." you look at her in a daze. "You're sure I should do that? I won't ask again!" You just nod again. "I fucking want to hear the words!"

"please...I want to feel you....I want you to fuck me so bad" You're already begging her.

"That's a good girl...." She grins proudly and starts kissing your clit again, this time she gently inserts a finger, just a little, which makes you moan.

You're so wet that you can hardly resist, but Bella doesn't get very far. A bigger resistance stops her and she looks up at you without raising her head.

"Ready....? might hurt a bit but I'll take it slow.

"please..just start....want to feel you so bad....." you beg her impatiently. Bella gently pushes against the resistance causing you to narrow your eyes slightly in pain.

"come on...just a little bit further....do it for me darling..." with a little jerk her finger dives much deeper into you, the reason that you moan clearly. Bella doesn't move her finger for now so you can get used to the feeling.

"I want more...please Bella..." You look at her helplessly and Bella smirks contentedly. "someone tasted blood huh...?" She moves her finger very carefully and literally explores every corner of you which makes you groan and close your eyes. The feeling of what makes you a moaning mess becomes more and more beautiful and intens. Slight tingling causes Bella to insert a second finger and only brings you even more into ecstasy.

"feels...too good...more...I want so much..more" Bella kisses your neck while moving her fingers faster and further inside you.

"I want everything from you...your innocence is not enough for me! Cum for me!" Her fingers move more and more roughly which almost completely shoots you over the edge.

"your wet pussy is so tight, feels good darling hm?" You can't answer anymore and an overwhelming tingling comes over you from your midsection all the way to your fingertips, like lightning hitting you and you moaning completely out of control.

You arch your back and claw your way into the blanket with all your might. A few more movements so that you calm down a bit and finally Bella pulls her fingers out of you to lick them off afterwards.

"too delicious..." Bella smiles contentedly." your such a naughty and brave girl...all for me"

"that was amazing...you are amazing!" You are completely exhausted.

"You know that we do this more often now......?" You stare at her, dumbfounded.

"As friends?"

"No...you're mine now. And no one else is allowed to touch you!" You just swallow with the thought that Bella always has other girls. "but....you're always with other-"

"won't happen, I promise. I didn't notice you and it the whole time. I won't let you go!" You snuggle up under the covers and cuddle up together. "bella...your hand...what..." You stare at her and she smiles her freakin' cute smile.

"round 2........?"

Uuuugh....that was just uuuugh. Thx for reading. If u want more look at my masterlist or send me requests♡

[whaleofatjme1920]

My Version of Eyeless Jack

So, there's no cohesive narrative here I just wanted to infodump a bunch of stuff about how I write my EJ. I'll put it in headcanon form but know whenever you read my newer EJ fics (or whenever I get an inkling to talk about him), this is exactly how I envision him and want him to be seen as.

EJ grew up in a Polish somewhat American household. He's a second generation, with his parents both being from Poland and most of their extended family in the old country. His mother is from a smaller city in the southwest, and his father from Krakow. His mother instilled in him a deep love of the natural world, and a hunger for learning.

Jack's obsession for medicine and whatnot came up because his father was just a bit insane about keeping him healthy. Any cough or sneeze was instantly investigated. He was a bit sheltered in that sense, and was prone to sneaking out to experience a normal adolescence and whatnot as he grew up.

While Jack is not averse to getting his hands dirty and doing jobs no one else would even THINK of, he's still gotta go through a full cleansing and decontamination when he's done.

I like to think that, as a kid, he was deeply in love with Slavic mythology and he was, surprise surprise, really into Chernobog. That wasn't Chernobog whispering in his ear he was just always interested whether he realized it or not. This kinda faded out around 12 years old but as a guy that's literally possessed by him now, fused to make an entirely new being, he finds it just a hair ironic.

Yeah, he did have to go to Polish school on the weekends. Sometimes he loved it, other times not at all.

He was his parents only child so he was kind of under a magnifying glass from them both.

He was actually quite close with his grandmothers!

Jack has always had a biting, sarcastic wit. He can balance professionalism with clinical sarcasm fantastically. His humor is very deadpan and he'll dupe you multiple times if you're not careful.

Jack doesn't always understand why people insist on social politeness. He actually favors bluntness, but will be polite if the situation calls for it.

He has three tongues. Yes, he's choked on them before. This mostly happened in the beginning when he was first getting used to his new body.

He doesn't like sweet foods, but certain organs are sweeter to him than others. He can't quite explain that, but he favors certain parts of people over others.

He can eat human food, but it's like junk food for him. He will always need to feast on humans from time to time to keep himself well. Also this is NOT a constant thing with him. He has like a major feeding once or twice a month, and smaller feedings ever 7-10 days. He can get by just fine, he's not always starving.

Most of his work is him just preparing in case he's in a situation he can't hunt.

His body can heal at an accelerated rate!

Because he's possessed by/permanently fused with Chernobog, he has 'starfish' tendencies. Meaning, if he loses a finger, in about 6 months he'll have a new one. Anything bigger might take years but he's never been in a situation where that's needed to happen. This does not mean he's invincible.

Slender Man, who has been around for way longer than any of us can conceive, finds it funny that Chernobog is fused with a socially awkward young man who couldn't even ask a girl out normally and forewent his survival instinct just to hang out with her.

Slender Man, when just with Jack, will speak with him in Polish or older forms of Slavic languages when more directly addressing Chernobog.

Jack is physically HUGE. He's like 6'8, because his merging made him bigger. He was already tall at 5'10, but Chernobog required a bigger vessel. So, he painfully grew bigger. He's quite muscular, not overtly so but you know he has physical strength.

He's,,,,, human-like in appearance. Gives off uncanny valley at times.

He's actually quite funny and does take some joy in making people laugh.

He's not besties with Jeff but they are, more often than not, together doing things.

He actually prefers Jane's company!

It takes so, so long to gain his actual trust. He has varying levels of it, like anyone else, but it's difficult to even breach his first layer.

Has a deep fondness for birds, specifically vultures.

Doesn't like dogs. He has never liked dogs. Smile is his one and only exception. Does like cats.

His body has a stupid tattoo on his thigh he got when drunk one night at uni. He's still mildly embarrassed by it.

He occasionally smokes weed.

He won't admit it, but anyone that looks like Jenny brings back terrible, terrible memories. When he was younger, those types of women used to trigger panic attacks. He's much better now, but seeing women that look like her make him very uncomfortable.

He doesn't enjoy strong smelling perfumes or colognes. He thinks the scents themselves are nice, but they give him migraines. His sense of smell is very strong and well.

He can actually function quite well in normal society, he just doesn't physically fit the image. And even using his glamour-he sticks out from his height alone.

Jack wouldn't say this to anyone, but he sometimes hangs around in his glamour just to remember what he used to look like before. It's not a 100% match, but he sees himself as older. A bit more jaded and weathered. He wonders what would have happened if he listened to his roommate and didn't go.

[potofstewie]

Special Gift

Hey y'all! This is the last submission (5/5) for @renhoeku's Rengoku Birthday Month Collab. I changed the title from Special Day to Special Gift due to logistic issues (not rlly lmao). It was really fun writing all of these for my favorite flame guy, especially with the different genres (smut, angst, fluff)!

Things to know: Childhood fluff, mutual pining, gn!Reader (AFAB), timeskip, mention of dog fur used for toys (this takes place in the 1900s so pls don't start no mess)

W/C: <1k

“Happy Birthday, Rengoku-Kun!” Your high pitched voice squeaked out, eyes watching in absolute glee as your beloved friend took the stuffed toy dog from your hands. Kyojuro’s wide eyes gazed at the toy before looking up at you; crimson painting his cheeks, ears and forehead. A soft chuckle escaped his father’s throat as he watched the cute scene before him on the engawa, not paying attention to Senjuro teething on his sleeve. “I figured you would like it since you aren’t allowed to have a real one.” You explained, eliciting an annoyed groan from his father. 

“That’s because I’m allergic, y/n. Plus, they’re a hassle to clean up after.” Shinjuro huffed as he removed his now damp sleeve from his youngest son’s iron grip. Sharp, incandescent eyes gazed on Kyojuro’s stunned frame. “Why don’t you say thank you, Kyojuro? I’m sure y/n worked hard looking for that in the market.” He coaxed as you waited for a response with bridling anticipation. 

“I..I love it so much! Thank you, y/n! I’ll be sure to treasure it forever and ever!” Kyojuro bellowed before encasing you and his new toy in his arms, giving you a squeeze. “I think it’s button eyes are so neat and look!” Kyojuro released you from his grasp as he ran his small fingers over the fur. “It even feels like a real dog!” You giggled at your friend’s observation, excited to share new information about the gift.

“That’s because the toy maker used real dog fur! Isn’t that cool!” You shouted with glee as a look of horror dawned on Shinjuro’s face. With loud sneezes and shouts of “No! Stop, Kyojuro!”, Shinjuro spent the rest of the day running from Kyojuro and his birthday gift.

“Isn’t she precious?” Kyojuro’s hushed voice called to you in your shared room, eye trained on his daughter’s sleeping façade. Despite doing the Kankagari faithfully, your daughter only came out with the trademark golden flame hair and eyes, everything else taking after you. Her small eyes peeled open and gazed at her father’s singular one, gifting him with a soft coo. Your eyes focused on the room door that opened slowly, revealing Shinjuro and Senjuro. 

“Is she awake?” Senjuro asked quietly as his father closed the door behind him, sitting down beside your futon. Nodding, Kyojuro leaned her closer to her uncle and grandfather, small eyes taking in the new faces. Your daughter’s tongue escaped her mouth in small intervals as Senjuro looked on in awe; Shinjuro looking in nostalgia. Chuckling softly, you soaked in the adorable scene of the three generations before you. 

“You wanna hold her?” Your husband asked his father, outstretching his child to him. Shinjuro cradled her gingerly as if he was afraid to squeeze her. “Isn’t she so cute?” Kyojuro cooed, watching his father gaze at his granddaughter with such tender and love filled eyes. 

“..Yeah..” He muttered softly before lifting his gaze towards you. “You must still be tired, we can take over for a bit while you rest. I still know how to fix a bottle and such.” Shinjuro offered as Kyojuro stood up, walking towards an old chest in the corner. You nodded at your father-in-law’s suggestion. 

“I’ll do so soon.” You reassured. Senjuro looked over at his brother in curiosity as he watched him rummage through the chest. 

“Anuie, what are you looking for?” He inquired as a soft hum of glee emitted from Kyojuro. Standing at his full height, he turned towards you all, hands hidden behind his back. Settling back down next to you, Kyojuro beamed. 

“I figured this would be a nice gift for her, from her papa.” Kyojuro explained softly as his father raised a wild eyebrow. 

“Which is…what exactly?” His baritone voice asked as all eyes focused on his son. Straightening his back with pride, Kyojuro pulled out the surprise gift from behind him; evoking a soft yet happy gasp from you. 

“I never got rid of it and I even had it fixed up the other day. I really hope she’ll like it. And maybe one day I can give her a real one, or maybe even a cat!” As if in slow motion, Shinjuro’s face contorted from familial bliss to absolute horror as he watched his eldest son, the son that always meant well but messed up at times, the son that sometimes unknowingly brought his father grief, bring his old stuffed toy dog closer and closer to his grandchild and him. 

The quiet night outside where the occasional hoot from an owl quickly filled with a loud mixture of snotty sneezes, yells of “Get it away from me!” and “Kyojuro!”, and the piercing cry of a startled newborn.

BONUS

"C'mon, Ji-Chan! Let's hurry up and go to the Dango stall! I wanna get some before they run out!" Dragging along her struggling grandfather with one hand and carrying her favorite stuffed dog, a little girl no older than the age of six walked through the busy festival street. Her grandfather sneezed loudly in his kimono sleeve, trying to keep up despite his harrowing sneezes stopping him every few seconds.

"H-Hang on, kid! I- CHOO! I can't- CHOO! I can't keep up with you- CHOO!"

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023

Tags: @yuuuriiinaa-chaaannn @utas-faerie-gf @yeahitzally @riia0 @theshylittleelfgirl

[di-daynamic]

Falling (for you) Through The Snow

My fic for @jilychallenge2023 Winter in June Challenge. Partner: @wearingaberetinparis Prompt: You’re a snow artist and I think you just made a snowman(woman) that looks exactly like me… do you have anything to confess?

Lily Evans loathed the winter season.

She hated having to wear unwieldy scarves and large sweaters. She hated shivering and sneezing all the time. She hated the biting chill of the air. She hated the crunching of snow under her feet and having to shovel it out of the way. She hated even the merry carolers and especially the mistletoe she was allergic to.

It was honestly kind of ironic, because the man she was in love with was a snow artist and ice sculptor, which meant he basically personified All The Cold Things. Even imagining watching him make his intricate ice sculptures and snow craft made her smile.

She was that far gone.

Except that scenario was not at all plausible, firstly because she did not know the name of the man she was in love with, and secondly, he did not return her feelings. He was fixated on the The Unattainable Angel, or as Lily liked to call her, The One Who Had No Idea How Lucky She Was.

The name needed some work, but it conveyed her sentiment well enough.

She disliked disliking or competing with a fellow female but. . . Well, emotion did tend to disregard rational judgement and decision-making.

The love of her life thought ‘Effermont’ was a good pen-name, and she’d still fallen for him, so, well, love very clearly was one of those emotions.

It was her turn to write him, wasn’t it? It’d been nearly two days since she’d picked his letter up from Albus Dumbledore’s lovely little café Godric’s Hollow. If she left it much longer, he might think she’d abandoned him.

Or, more likely, that she’d died, seeing as he was rather full of himself on the exterior and would never believe anyone would deny themselves the opportunity to ‘bask in his reflected glory’ (his own words).

She’d grumble about the season to him. That always got him very cutely riled up.

Dear Eff,

Or should I say toff? I can’t believe you have a ski lodge! Are you going to it these hols? And what about your best friend/very annoying brother? Will he be going with you or is his wicked family going to trap him into one of their horror movie family reunions?

I can’t believe it’s winter again. I hate this season so much!

I can just see your face (I mean, I would I if I knew what it looked like) looking so annoyed. I know you like the winter, Eff. It’s the only flaw in your oh-so-perfect self.

I mean, winter is just plain annoying. With literally none of the good things other seasons bring! What comes in the winter? Slipping on the ice? Strawberries?

In other news, my sister and her husband came to visit home and my mum ordered me back, so I spent this weekend in my house in dodgy old Cokeworth. You haven’t heard of it. It’d be a no-name except I just wrote its name, so.

My nephew is a sweet baby, the cutest and chubbiest one on the planet. My sister on the other hand. . . Well, I’ll leave it at ‘we could get along better’. But you already know that. You probably know more of my sister and my relationship than anyone except my old best friend, but talking about him really brings down my mood so I’m not going to do that.

Not that much needs to happen for that. Winter is coming, after all. Winter is already here and that is such a pity.

She bought me this really ugly pink sweater. I’m sure it’s not lost on her that I’m a redhead and therefore ANY pink looks absolutely terrible on me, much less this garish monstrosity that makes me want to poke my eyes out when I look in the mirror while wearing it.

Redheads look terrible in pink. And basically any colour on the red spectrum. It’s a fact of life, and one she knows VERY well.

And she had the nerve to say it suited my personality? I’m sorry, what?

Honestly, sometimes I just want to kill her. And not in the good way – like how you say it about your very annoying best friend/brother.

How goes the life-ending heart rending love for The Unattainable Angel? You didn’t talk about that in your last letter, which is odd. Your letters are usually full of romantic woes. No judgement, mine were too, back when I actually had a romantic life to speak of.

How are your friends? Got into any ridiculous shenangians lately? Have you talked to your mother since your last letter? It sounds like you argued pretty badly and I know she’s very important to you, Mama’s boy.

In all seriousness, don’t let the bitterness fester. It does so too easily, and honestly, I’m a prime example. Don’t let one argument ruin such a wonderful relationship, Eff.

Onto lighter topics. I tried the flavour you recommended at Godric’s. It was good. Just the right amount of bitterness to offset the sweetness. Finally, we can say we both like a coffee flavour! It looked impossible for a while there.

And no, Katniss and Gale would definitely not make a good couple! The sheer amount of sweets you like to have is rotting your brain, Eff. Everlark all the way, thank you very much.

How are your studies going? Mine are going pretty well. At least you don’t need to take a Sociology class which requires you to send letters out to complete strangers in the hopes they’ll reply. I can’t regret picking this social experiment, though, because it got me you, and that made it pretty much worth it.

Pretty much. Weighing it out.

No letter hassle v. No Eff. Hmmm. Hard to say.

Kidding.

Continuing the getting to know you game: I hate, hate, HATE answering this but the embarrassing story about me my mum and dad just adore telling people is the time I went around the house narrating everything that was happening just in case we had cameras recording us for a reality show. Or the time I was flower-girl at my aunt’s wedding and I threw all the flowers on her new husband’s really annoying father’s head. Or the time I tried to cut my hair with safety scissors and had to get a bob cut to rectify the mess. Or the leash story. God, the leash story. You don’t want to know it. It’s even more mortifying as an adult.

If I could holiday anywhere, it’d be Italy. Venice and Rome especially! The thought of going along on a little gondola is just really fun, and Rome has all the history I love. History’s been my favourite subject since I was a kid. Not that I could ever tell dad. Maths has obviously been my sister’s and my favourite since we were kids and still is.

He still isn’t over me studying law.

So, for you! If you could have any name other than your given one (obviously, I don’t know what it is, so please don’t trick me by just using that!) what would it be? If you could have any pet, which animal and why?

And write something for me. You’re a psychology student, psychoanalyze me and write me something I’d like. I know, I know, your artistic talents tend towards visual – being a snow artist and all –  rather than literature, I’m the literature swot between us, but I recorded that song on the piano and sent it to you, didn’t I?

I hope the walls of your house didn’t collapse from how bad that was.

Lots of love,

Flower.

Her pining didn’t show through that, Lily thought, pleased. Nor did her bitterness at asking about The Unattainable Angel. Lily despised the thought of seeing the other girl as a competitor – and she didn’t – but she didn’t need to drive a stake through her heart by repeatedly hearing about her.

But she had long decided the only way to get over a hopeless crush was to power through it while making her heart bleed over and over. Hence the asking.

She folded the letter and slid it into the envelope.

“Lily!” Mary called from the hall. “Are you done getting ready?”

Lily froze guiltily. She’d completely forgotten about the party in favour of venting her frustrations at Eff. He was very good at taking that. He was quite possibly the best pen pal in the universe, except she had no objective way of measuring that.

Subjectively, he absolutely was.

But back to the moment.

“Er, not yet,” she yelled back to her roommate. “Give me a minute!”

She quickly put on the dress Eliza had gotten out for her earlier – much to her protestations then and now relief that she didn’t have to select one herself – and did her makeup. It wasn’t anywhere near what she would have typically done for a party.

“Your minute means an hour,” Mary was exaggeratedly complaining as she slipped out of her room. She frowned at her. “Why do you look like you threw that together in thirty seconds?”

Probably because she had.

“Never mind that,” Eliza said like the godsend she was. “Mare, do her hair while I get the mascara.”

“I don’t get why you guys treat me like a baby,” Lily grumbled, even as grateful as she was.

Eliza pinched her cheek. “Oh poor jelly-baby,” she cooed her very demeaning nickname for Lily.

“Quit acting like one then,” Mary suggested rudely, parting her hair.

“We’re stopping by Godric’s on the way.” Lily announced as she started driving on the icy roads, finally entirely ready. She looked in the rearview mirror for a moment. She looked amazing. Mary and Eliza were miracle workers.

Mary groaned. “Oh, come on. Do you do anything other than write to your beloved Effermont?”

Mary was very disapproving of the whole letter-writing thing: both the concept of writing to a stranger and the reopening of her very tender wounds of heartbreak every time.

“Plenty,” she replied drily. “Listen to your opinions regarding it, for one.”

“I’m just worried about you, Lils!” She called after her as she left the car. They’d reached Godric’s Hollow café.

Fair enough.

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as brightly as ever as he took her letter outside his café. “Your Effermont is in there right now,” he said amusedly. She flushed at the ‘your’ before actually registering the sentence.

“Oh my God,” she said, feeling a thrill run up her. This was the first time they’d ever been this close to each other – that Lily knew of, anyway. “I should go then. Don’t want him discovering my identity.”

“Of course. Is this the actual letter or simply the directions? For I fear he’s in somewhat of a hurry,” Albus said.

Lily grinned. Eff had made her drink his coffee recommendation – good and not ridiculously sweet for once – before she could get his last letter. She’d once made him climb a tree. He’d once given her a series of riddles to solve before Albus gave her his letter. It was fun, but also not something you could do quickly, and Lily’s grumble fest had been pretty quick. Their letters typically reached seven or eight pages.

“The letter itself,” she assured him, shaking his hand before striding back to the car. Mary frowned disapprovingly, and Eliza gave her a thumbs up.

Mary lectured her about the letters all through the drive, making her very relieved to come up the driveway of the house where Benjy Fenwick was hosting the party.

“That is one big ass house,” she said under her breath as she leaned against her car after parking. Mary and Eliza were already inside.

“Isn’t it just?” Remus Lupin smiled at her, looking as tired as always. “Fenwick has a really huge inheritance.”

She bit back the instinctive ‘how are you’ – she was sure a chronically sick person like him was sick of that (pun unintended) – and instead asked, “Where are your mates?”

He waved vaguely at the house. “Sirius and Peter are in there, causing trouble no doubt, but James got. . . Delayed.” There was a wry twist to the last word that suggested disapproval or amusement. Lily couldn’t tell. “I’m waiting for him now, in fact.”

Alarm reared in her head. The last thing she wanted was to run into James Potter. She didn’t loathe him anymore the way she had in high school, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see him.

Too bad for her.

“Hey, Moony! I’ve got a new—” James Potter stopped short at the sight of her, blinking. He was casually handsome in a polo shirt and jacket and trousers, hair tousled, his spectacles lopsided on his angular face. “Evans.”

“Potter,” she said briskly. “I’ll see you in class, Remus.” She moved towards the house, when Potter grabbed her arm. It was gentle, not restricting or pulling, but it felt like a jolt of electricity ran up her arm. “Don’t touch me!”

She turned to glare at him. He backed up in alarm, holding his hands up. “Sorry, Evans. Just had a question.”

She breathed through her irritation. “What is it?”

“Can I use you as a model?”

“A model for what?” She stared at him.

Potter faltered, “I – uh, I’m an artist of sorts. And I was just wondering, for this commission—”

“You can,” she said brusquely, moving again. She modelled for art classes for extra money. She was used to being a muse for people. She didn’t know why Potter had asked in the first place but. . . It was considerate of him.

Maybe he wasn’t that bad.

On second thought, nah. She remembered the utter fiasco he’d created last week in the mess hall.

Potter was, for some reason, the person she disliked most among the self-proclaimed Marauders. Perhaps it was his brief obsession with asking her out back in high school, or the fact that he’d been the main perpetrator in Sev being bullied. But she immensely disliked talking to or being around him either way, so it didn’t really matter.

She rejoined Eliza – Mary was off somewhere with her toy of the night, this time Hestia Jones – and thankfully managed to avoid all the Marauders for the rest of the party.

She even managed to enjoy herself, drinking a fair bit, dancing, playing a couple games and giving her number to a cute guy who might actually help her get over Eff.

All in all not a half bad night. She’d gone to worse parties.

She found herself back in Godric’s Hollow the two evenings later, listening to Marshmello on her headphones, sipping a Frappuccino (bitter, obviously) and finishing editing her assignment in Trade Relations.

“Lily,” Albus called. She looked up enquiringly, slipping her headphones down her neck. “A note from your Effermont.”

The whole world lit up from its previously dull colours. She eagerly took the folded paper from the barista, reading the scrawled message. Eff had a weird handwriting: it was like he’d been taught calligraphy, but didn’t have the time or the bother to either use it properly or disregard it completely.

It was charming. She loved it.

You will find your letter at the following place: 1. Dog Walkers for Hire 2. Home Repair 3. Symphony Orchestra

Lily closed her laptop and packed her things hurriedly, eagerness swimming through her. She’d figured out the place easily, and rushed to the intersection, grabbing the letter (with a laugh at the fact that a Congrats! Sticker was stamped on the envelope) and walked back to the flat, pulling her shawl tighter around herself.

God, she hated the cold.

 Eff was as irascibly cheerful as ever.

To the Prettiest Flower in Existence, started the letter, making Lily blush delightedly.

It is I, your beloved Eff! I hope you haven’t missed me too much. It took a while to set up the hunt and write down everything I wanted to do. My mum goes crazy for Christmas. She’s hired all these decorators for the manor, and I can just hear you say ‘toff’! (If I knew what your voice sounded like, of course). So my very annoying best friend/brother and I had to clear off for a bit, and then my other friend had this episode with his illness and. . .

Well, anyway, I was busy. And things are all fine now. Mum isn’t going any less crazy, sadly, but the rest of it’s sorted.

To answer your questions: Honestly, I’m not sure what name I’d like. My dad and mum have these really ridiculous names, you’d laugh if you ever heard them. Seriously. And my best friends too. So I think I’d either want some stupidly fancy thing to match them (not likely) – like Theodore, or Romulus, or Perseus, or Octavius or Septimus. More likely some nice, common name like mine. So. . . Tom maybe. Tom sounds nice. Or Alastair. That’s a cool name too. Daniel. Sam. Alex. Noah. Henry, like my granddad. And I would love to be a Finnick, obviously. After my favourite character, even if it would invite jokes about being too finicky.

Honestly, it’s impossible to choose! Just like you to give these weird philosophical questions, Flower. I had to ask my parents why they chose the name James and all that, so points for giving me a chance to learn some family history plus some terrible details of their sex life I never wanted to know.

As for the second one, an owl. Hands down. I don’t need a dog, because my best friend/brother is practically one, minus the obedience part. An owl just sounds really amazing. Nocturnal animal, for one. It could keep me company on my night study sessions. Did you know they can rotate their necks upto 270 degrees?? And that they have asymmetrical ears? Plus they could be like carrier pigeons! Delivery owls! I’d train them. In fact, I want to be an owl trainer when I grow up. Forget my Psychology and Philosophy degree.

You’ve probably gathered from some of the other comments that I made up with mum. You were right. Naturally. You’re probably always right, and just incredible like that. I was a bit hesitant about making the first apology (my pride yada yada, psychoanalyzing and all) but your letter convinced me, so. . . Thanks for that, Flower. You’re the best.

I have heard of Cokeworth, actually. It’s where The Unattainable Angel is from, which is such a coincidence! Do you think you might know one another? You’re both about the same age – mine – and I gather it’s a fairly small town so you must, yeah?

I am extremely offended at your disparaging winter, Flower. My favourite season! I’m sorry, we’re over. I can’t write to someone who hates something so meaningful to me. I’m a snow artist! It’s a bit weird, isn’t it, that we’re writing to one another? Months after your first generic letter for your project? You dislike sweet stuff, I love it. You hate winter, and the winter is literally my livelihood. You ship Everlark, I ship Everthorne. BTW, you’re wrong about that. Like, so wrong. Attached is a list of reasons Everthorne would work. I love Katniss and Gale together!

Attached is also a story I wrote for you. Feel honoured, Flower. I don’t do this for just anybody. Also, don’t come at me when you find that it’s absolutely awful. I know. Like you said, I’m not a writer. I’m an artist. A SNOW artist, so deal with it. Winter’s the best. Winter is already here, and that is AMAZING.

Speaking as an artist, I can assure you, pink does not look terrible on all redheads. The Unattainable Angel is a redhead, and she would look pretty in a garbage bag, so I refute your assertion. I bet you look good in pink too.

In order to prove that, I, the stunning snow artist that I am, will be making a sculpture of The Unattainable Angel in pink! It’s a commission I got last week, for this business party in a garden in the suburbs. It’s some fundraiser, sort of, plus networking – don’t ask me. My dad does this kind of stuff for his business, and it all goes way over my head. Who holds something like this in a garden though? And wants an ice sculpture for it? Especially one of a girl? I contemplated not doing it, especially because I don’t want her stared at by perverts, but she agreed, and she’s a model, so she’s probably used to it. . .

She’s so great. And so incredibly gorgeous. I can’t wait to get sculpting! It’ll turn out beautiful, I’m sure. Anything would, with her as model.

Ouch about your sister, though. I can’t believe she said that. I’m sorry your relationship has soured so much. My best friend/adopted brother is the worst and most annoying person on the planet, but I can’t imagine my life or myself without him. I’m sorry you’ve lost that closeness. I’m sure it must be hard.

The Unattainable Angel is as, well, unattainable as ever. She really, really hates me. So nothing new on that front, except I actually managed words to ask her if she can be my model for the sculpture, to prove something to you and for the commission – the first more than the second ;)

Trust me, you don’t want to know about my friends. Really. Like I said, my chronically ill friend had an episode, but he’s fine now. But really. My brother and our other friend did this so stupid thing yesterday. . . It involved flag poles. And jumping off buildings. They may have been a tad drunk.

They must have been – either that, or clinically insane. And my mum still didn’t scold him! She’s definitely playing favourites. And I am not pouting about it. Also, I am so not a Mama’s boy, Flower! You take that back!

My studies are going well. I got an A on that test I wrote to you about being nervous about, so that’s a relief. It’s so weird to think we’re already well into our second year. It feels like I’m still at high school sometimes. The general stupidity of the population doesn’t change no matter where you are, I’m sure you would say. But still.

Yeeees, soon we’ll bring you onto the dark side Flower! Soon you’ll be consuming the sugariest and sweetest stuff known to mankind and loving it! In all seriousness, glad you liked the rec! I’m going to suggest white chocolate peppermint tea now. It’s a Godric’s special. It’s pretty sweet, but I think you’ll like it. Or maybe not. Try it and tell me!

I absolutely want to know the leash story! Tell me, tell me, tell me! Pretty please with a cherry on top? I’m sending you puppy eyes right now. I wish you could see. My mum tells me my puppy dog begging eyes are absolutely lethal. I bet you’d cave in an instant. I wish we could meet in person. I know you don’t want to – just an idle wish.

Also, wow. Those stories are hilarious. Not as stupidly embarrassing as ones my mum insists on telling though. She brings out the baby album every. time. somebody visits. It’s so stupid! And my brother is no help, he just keeps laughing, especially because there aren’t any baby photos of him.

I bet you looked cute with your bob cut, though. How old were you then? The thought that people might be watching us in some reality show is pretty scary. Thanks for the nightmares, Flower.

Continuing the game: Tell me your favourite traditions for a holiday. Any holiday. And if you could have any three books survive the apocalypse with you, which would they be?

I want you to write down five things you even slightly like about the winter. As a snow artist, I demand that my pen pal/closest female friend like at least something about it. If you could send me that piano recording (which wasn’t that bad by the way) you can do this. For me? With puppy dog eyes again.

Lots of love,

Effermont.

Lily was smiling instinctively as she read through the letter, already composing a reply inside her head. She couldn’t help it. Eff was so effortlessly cheerfully charming. God, she was so hopelessly in love with him. Even as he pined after The Unattainable Angel. Who sounded like a bitch who had no idea what she had.

Lily sighed and tried to let go of that misplaced anger. She just wished she could have Eff like her. He did seem like he was flirting sometimes. It got her hopes up when they oughtn’t.

Maybe Mary was right. Maybe this was bad for her.

But at the same time – she couldn’t stomach the thought of this stopping. Of never receiving a letter from him again. Of never laughing at his random thoughts and smiley faces. Of never feeling that despairing love again.

There was no good choice.

She let her chin drop onto her palm as she scanned the letter again idly, stopping at the places where he complimented her, blushing and feeling nerves stir in her stomach. Stopping where he described his latest commission, she frowned.

That sounded familiar. Lily thought about it, putting the letter and the attached papers away for later reading and replying. A networking event. Garden. In the suburbs. Ice. . . Then it clicked.

Marlene’s mum’s company was having a gala in the garden just outside her house. A semi-informal one. Marley had talked to her about the ice statue of a girl they’d ordered for it. Someone in the family had been commissioned.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat. Someone in Marley’s family could be Eff. The thought was almost dangerous. She’d met her friend’s immediate family a couple times. Her mind was immediately racing: she had two brothers. And multiple male cousins. One of them. . .

But would knowing be a good thing? Did she want to know who Eff really was?

Yes, her traitorous heart replied. Of course she wanted to know whom she was in love with.

But the more sensible part of her protested. She already liked him enough. Knowing his true identity, seeing him around the Hogwarts campus – that might literally shatter her. She didn’t know if she could handle it.

But Lily was impulsive, reckless. It was somethine Tuney and Sev had derided her for multiple times. It was part of who she was. She took out her phone and shot a message to Marlene, asking if she could come to her mum’s party, on account of being a law student and networking.

It wasn’t a lie. Meeting influential people would be useful.

But she knew her main reason for asking. And it was purely personal.

The party was nice – a much classier affair than the high school and college parties she’d been to, thankfully. She chatted with several people, made nice and got business cards, all the while looking for an ice sculpture of a girl, heart thumping.

“Lily!” Marlene called. “Hey, crazy coincidence you’re here.”

��Why is that?” She asked, putting her glass of wine down and making her way to her friend.

Marley pointed vaguely in the direction behind her. “This ice statue— it’s of a girl, and—”

Lily didn’t bother listening further, turning and making her way in that direction. Then she saw the statue, and came to a standstill.

It was her. It was her, in pink clothes, just as Eff had promised. It was her right down to the curves of her hair and the green in her eyes and the smile on her face.

Eff had used her as the model for his commission.

She was The Unattainable Angel.

Her mind went blank. Her whole body felt numb, and not from the cold. Her hands were trembling.

Eff was in love with her. He was every bit in love with her as she was with him, judging by his letters.

She had to—she had to find him. She had to tell him. She had to move. She had to do something.

But what?

Dear Eff,

I saw the statue you made for the McKinnon Offices’ Business Party. I know her. I want to meet. I think I can help you finally attain The Unattainable Angel.

Love,

Flower

To the Flower of Utter Amazingness,

You want to meet??! Like, seriously?? Tell me this isn’t a joke, Flower. I’ve wanted this for ages.

I can’t believe you saw the statue.

So you do know Evans, huh. Small world.

Godric’s Hollow? The table where you left your first letter? 5 pm on Monday?

Lots and lots of love,

Effermont

Dear Eff,

Smaller than you might think, actually.

I’ll see you there.

Lots of love,

Flower

Lily was dying of anticipation.

She wasn’t one to tend to hyperbole like that – but this was an extraordinary situation. She was about to meet the man she was head-over-heels in love with. She felt that deserved some exaggeration.

It was four fifty-five on Monday. Lily had her book bag swung over her shoulder, too wrecked with nerves to go back to her apartment post classes.

She was going to meet Eff!

She. Was. Going. To. Meet. Her. Pen-Pal.

It still wouldn’t quite sink in.

She sat on a bench across the road from the café, with the table they were supposed to meet at well within view. She wasn’t willing to be seen as – well, desperate, and reach first, and she wanted to have a chance to assess after she was blindsided by information.

Lily liked to be in control of things.

It was why she found herself so extremely annoyed when James Potter of all people sat in at the table, moments after she’d taken her own seat. Why did he have to pick now to come to Godric’s? And that particular seat?

Eff would come soon and ask him to move away, she thought hopefully. She kept a keen eye out for anyone approaching that particular table, but no one did.

Bitterness welled deep in her twenty minutes into the wait. She couldn’t believe Eff had stood her up like this. It was ridiculous. He’d seemed so excited in his letter. Even Albus had chuckled to her about it. Had something gone wrong on his side? Was he perhaps waiting, not wanting to eject someone from their seat?

Nah. He was too arrogant for that.

Impulsively, she stood and made her way to that table. Maybe there was a note? Another letter?

“Evans!” Potter – squeaked, flailing about undignifiedly. He was always so odd around her. She despised him, but he seemed to waver between awkward and sleazy around her. Which was a pity. He wasn’t bad looking and Mary kept insisting he’d grown up since high school.

Lily didn’t really see how bullies grew up.

“Potter.” she said shortly.

“Did you, uh, want the table?” Potter stood up quickly, hands in his pockets. She could understand that. Lily hated sitting when someone was looming over her. She opened her mouth to tell him to keep the table when: “I was just waiting for someone—”

Dread encapsulated her. Dots which she really didn’t need at that moment connected. “Who?” She asked urgently.

He blinked at her. “Who?” She asked again, impatient and nervous and scared and excited and disgusted and anxious and apprehensive all at once.

“Just a, er, friend— we’ve never met before so this was the meeting place we decided – but she’s late—”

“A pen-pal?” She asked quietly. “Eff?”

Wonder took over his face. He smiled blindingly, hand lifting as though to touch her face before he put it down. “Flower?” He said quietly.

They stared at one another for a moment.

“I can’t believe it’s you—” He laughed lightly.

James Potter. James Potter. The one who’d tugged on her pigtails and dumped paint all over her and teased her about her drawing and told her she was beautiful and amazing and relentlessly persecuted Sev and partnered with her for a Science Project and won the lacrosse championship for their school.

James Potter.

Was Eff. Effermont. Who was always cheerful, had ready jokes, was arrogantly charming, a shoulder for her to cry on, and was the one person she trusted and relied on most.

Whom she was in love with.

Feeling suffocated and trapped all of a sudden, she turned. “I can’t either,” she snapped curtly, walking briskly outside.

“Hey, Evans? What – where are you – Flower!”

Ignoring the urge to stop at the final call, she jogged back home, burying the need to cry deep inside.

“I. . . Don’t get it, Lils.” Mary said, frowning. “So the pen-pal you were head-over-heels for turns out to be a guy with a great bod and an even better brain? What’s to whine about?”

Lily stared at her best friend disbelievingly. “You don’t get it? Mare! It’s James Potter! I’m in love with James Potter!”

“Yeah. So?”

“It’s. . .” Lily couldn’t help it; she got up and began to pace. “It’s so. . . Confusing, I guess. I mean. I didn’t like Potter. I still don’t like him, frankly.”

“Oh, not this again,” Mary groaned. “Come on, Lily. Haven’t you been dragging this high school feud long enough?”

“He was an asshole!” Lily raged. “He bullied Sev!”

“Who gave back every bit he got,” she pointed out. “Look, I’m not saying Potter was right to do it, ganging up on Snape and doing all those awful things to him. It was terrible. It was wrong. But. . . It was years ago. You got to know Potter in a completely new, objective way. And you fell in love with him. Doesn’t that say something?”

Lily scowled, turning away from her friend. It did. It said several things.

It wasn’t as though she’d only hated Potter, even back then in high school. He’d asked her out repetitively during that one phase. He’d managed to cheer her up with his dumb jokes more than one time. He’d been an excellent partner for that one project they’d been paired up for. He’d been the only one who could keep up with her in the Debate Team – they’d used to argue until they were breathless, chests heaving.

Knowing Potter had been exhilarating even then. He was a constantly tempestuous ride, and she’d never known which side she was about to get – awkward Potter who couldn’t string together a sentence around her, the coolly confident one who teased and argued with her, the passionate jock she’d cheer on in the field, the bullying toerag who got off on the misery of others.

He was a dichotomy. Always.

But she’d never once gotten that vibe from Eff. Could he be arrogant, condescending, disregarding of others’ feelings occasionally and accidentally? Sure. But he was a good man at heart. Lily wouldn’t have set up a meeting if she didn’t believe that.

But Eff being James Potter. . .

And she was The Unattainable Angel. She, Lily Evans! She couldn’t believe it. And she couldn’t deny that thought made her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in years.

Her mind made the decision quickly. “Okay. Yes. You’re right.” Her heart was pounding.

“I cannot believe you said that!” Mary cheered. “The Best To-Be Lawyer and Judge in the world said I’m right! Woohoo! Where’s my phone, I need to record this.”

“Shut up.” Lily rolled her eyes, ducking her head at the compliments. “But. . . I don’t have his number. What do I do? What if he hates me? What if—”

“Lil. Chill. That guy isn’t capable of hating you,” Mary said reassuringly. “And you have his best mate’s number. Call Lupin. Ask him to . . . I don’t know, connect you with Potter.”

“Okay,” Lily breathed, rubbing at her chest. “Okay. Thanks, Mare. You’re the best.”

“I know.” Her friend smiled smugly. “Go get him, girl!”

Hey, she texted Remus.

Hey, came a text back, only five minutes later. What’s up?

Can you send me Potter’s number? She asked without preamble.

There were the three dots, indicating he was typing. Then they disappeared. And reappeared.

You really hurt him, Lily, was the final message.

She stared at it. Tapped on the screen while she figured out her reply.

I know. I want to make up for it.

There. She thought that conveyed the sentiment, even though the phrasing was awkward and not her best. She just. . . Really couldn’t think about anything. Love had that effect.

There was no reply in words – just a number. Heart pounding, she sent him a thank you before saving Potter’s number in her mobile and starting to message him.

She went through several drafts in her head before she decided he would appreciate casualness the best.

Hi, Eff, she sent. I’m so sorry about today. Do over?

As Her Floweriness commands, was the reply, setting her at ease the way only he could do. The main fountain on the school campus okay with you, Evans? Tomorrow evening, 7:00?

Absolutely. See you then, Potter.

No running away this time?

Definitely not.

And it was done. Lily rolled over in her bed, grabbing her pen and journal, an idea striking her.

There was no better way.

She sat on the fountain, watching the water spring from the funnel, tired and excited and scared. Snow fell around her, landing softly. It was only fair, Lily supposed, that she be the one to wait this time. Still. It wasn’t easy.

“Evans,” someone breathed, and Lily spun around hastily, nearly tripping into the water. He caught her, one hand around her waist and the other grabbing hers. “Easy there.”

She froze, tingling sensations spreading from the place his hands touched. She wanted to stay there forever. She wanted to rip herself away. She turned to him slowly. “Potter.”

He let go of her, stuffing his hands in his pockets, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She felt oddly bereft.

“I, um—”

“Maybe we should—”

They paused, having started speaking at the same time. Lily cleared her throat. “I. Wrote this for you.” She thrust her letter at him.

He blinked at it. “Wow.” Why didn’t he take it? Did he hate her? Did he not want it? Did he have some other idea of how this was going to go? Was he— “That’s weird. I wrote a letter for you too.” He took something out of his pocket: an envelope.

They stared at one another. She couldn’t believe they’d had the same idea. It was ridiculous. Connecting. Soulmating, if she believed in those crap romance novels Eliza liked to read. Hand trembling, she reached out to take his. They exchanged envelopes.

Lily tore her eyes from his face to the letter in her hands.

Lily-Flower,

Thanks for running away, Evans. I really needed that. Real nice of you—

Sorry about that. Just. . . Got a bit angry.

Hey, Flower. I can’t believe you’re Lily Evans. The girl I’ve been pining over like an idiot since high school. Yes, you can gasp in shock and recoil in disgust. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got a massive crush on you.

No. That doesn’t sum it up.

I am absolutely, utterly, horrendously in love with you.

I don’t have the way with words you do. So. . . I’m not sure how. . . I guess I was halfway there even with my friend and pen-pal Flower. Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail always used to get these looks on their faces whenever I told them about the letters. But I was too hung up on you, Evans. You were. Well. You were The Unattainable Angel after all.

First and foremost, you’re my friend. And you don’t have to be. If you never want to see me again, call quits on the letters, that’s fine. I just hope you read this. One last letter from Effermont to Flower, eh?

I guess I can tell you why I picked that name now. My mum’s name is Euphemia. And you know my dad’s name is Fleamont. It was a kind of combination of their names. Plus, it sounds a bit like effeminate – which, I know is sometimes used as a slur, but you thought I was a girl when we first began writing. It was a joke.

A mean one. I know. I thought a lot about why you ran away like that. I was angry. Hurt. Still am, honestly. But I guess I can understand. I know you, Flower. I know you pretty well. So I can understand you running away to deal with your emotions.

I just hope you don’t mind this contact.

I haven’t. . . Always been the best person. I know that. And I don’t think I would have liked the person I would have turned out to be if I had continued like that. It’s. Hard. I was always arrogant, entitled, and jealous and bullying. . . And. It’s hard to describe.

And I know you hated me back then in high school, especially when I asked you out – which was all serious, by the way. I know you thought that me making a production of it was because it was a joke. It wasn’t.

Your hating me’s your prerogative, obviously.

I suppose I understand reconciling your friend with someone you loathe is hard.

Anyway. I’m just writing this to say. . . It’s okay. Whatever you want to do.

And I am still as in love with you as ever, Lily Evans. I didn’t need you to sing in the assembly like Peeta did (I hope you appreciate me making an Everlark reference). I just am. Have been for ages. Seems, at this point, like I always will be.

Yours,

Eff James Potter

Lily swallowed. She lowered the letter, looking at Potter. His face was intent, hopeful, wary. He was obviously done with her letter, folding it over and over in his hands.

“Since high school?” She whispered. “All those times. . . You were serious?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, Lily. I really, really was.”

He was calling her Lily now, she noticed vaguely. “You said whatever I want to do, you’re okay with it,” she said.

A flash of uncertainty. “Yeah. ‘Course. I meant that. Still do.” he assured her.

“And you don’t understand from my letter what that would be?” She asked, tone slightly teasing.

“Weeeeeell. . .” He dragged out the word, smirking a lopsided grin that made him very attractive. “You could stand to be a bit clearer.”

“Okay,” she said softly, walking closer to him. She could see the way snow fell on his head, the way the droplets clung to his lashes. The way his eyes, the golden flecks in the hazel, softened when they landed on her. “I am ardently, steadfastly, horrendously in love with you, Eff. James Potter.”

And she leaned up and kissed him.

He gasped, still for a moment, before kissing back. The pressure was electric. It was comforting. It was warmth, in the snowy winter around them. His arm came up against her back, lightly pressing, supporting. Her hands trailed up to his shoulders.

They parted, saying nothing for a long moment, staring at one another softly. James cleared his throat. “You’ve – got some snow here,” he patted it off her shoulder gently, letting his hand linger, his thumb brushing her collarbone.

She shivered, not entirely due to the cold. “Ugh. I hate snow.” She complained, still lightheaded from the kissing. “I loathe the winter.”

He smiled, a small quirk of his lips. “Yeah, I know.” He took her hand bringing it up to his lips. “Not only bad things happen in winter, though.”

She felt her own face light up in response, curling her hand with his, interlocking their fingers. “I suppose not.” Lily replied. “You still can’t say anything good about the snow though.”

“She says to the snow artist. . .”

And they bickered, walking hand-in-hand through the snow.

[capitalisticveins]

D.A.M.N Crew Headcanons Part 3 (Ft. Kody, Xavier, and Avior)

Not as many Kody and Xavier headcanons as I wish there would be, but they’re still there. Enjoy!

- Caelum had his front tooth kicked out by one of his older brothers on accident.

- Freelancer will never let anyone else crack the eggs if they’re baking something. It always has to be them, not even Caelum can do it if they’re around.

- Damien has busted his ass while skating once and never touched a skateboard again.

- Lasko can use a hoverboard but lives every second in anxiety and fear when the low battery sound plays.

- Huxley’s instagram is just full of pictures of his moms and rocks with googly eyes.

- Lasko and Huxley say “Golly” unironically.

- Caelum enjoys chocolate ice cream.

- Freelancer prefers French Vanilla.

- Xavier has sung “Nations of the World” from the Animaniacs perfectly after only watching it once.

- Gavin can do the “disappearing thumb” trick.

- He’s done it in front of Caelum but Caelum started to cry after he saw it.

- Damien can write and speak in cursive.

- Damien can understand Russian script.

- Huxley has always wanted to give Damien a piggyback ride, and only got to do it after they got together. It was the best thing ever. For Huxley, anyway.

- Lasko likes to watch Ni-Hao Kai Lan.

- Whenever someone tells Freelancer to pose, they always do a peace sign.

- Gavin bullies people on Discord.

- When Freelancer and Gavin first met, Freelancer genuinely didn’t know he was getting sucked off until he mentioned it.

- Caelum likes growing his hair out, so whenever Delphinus says it’s time to cut it, he flies to the highest altitude he can muster and just…stays there…until Delphinus gives up. He’s done this for a year and a half now.

- Kody’s eyes are usually glossy, like he’s about to cry. It’s ironic because he hasn’t cried since the 5th grade.

- Huxley has cut his hair into bangs before, never again.

- When Lasko sneezes, it evolves into a series of annoying tiny sneezes that leaves his nose red.

- Damien would rather die than use Airpods.

- Xavier has always wanted a BIG dog, but never got the chance to get one.

- Caelum has his own section in Freelancer’s dorm where he can play and sleep.

- Gavin heard what happened to Avior when he tried to rift back to Aria and said “And people ask me why I don’t rift back home anymore”.

- Gavin has called Avior a “dickrider” before.

- Freelancer is FASCINATED by Vampires.

- Lasko owns a robe that reaches past his feet.

- Huxley belly flops onto pools for fun.

- Damien hates tanning.

- When Caelum heard about the Nintendo EShop shutting down, he begged and cried for Freelancer to hack his 3DS since Gavin and Delphinus had no idea how to. Freelancer had to look up how to do it, and spent the night doing it, but it was easier than they thought.

- Kody randomly walks around his house in jeans and flip flops while being shirtless.

- Gavin believed in the “Talking Angela is stalking you” theory.

- Lasko refuses to download Twitter.

- Freelancer developed their powers in the 6th grade when someone was picking on them, and hid them from their family for 4 years in fear of what they could do with them. Their parent(s) found out after they froze their room while having a breakdown via stress.

- Huxley played spin the bottle at a party with his friends a few years ago, and when the bottle landed on Xavier, they immediately began kissing with no question, hesitation, or awkwardness.

- Caelum hates Baby Shark.

- Lasko has a sleep mask, a bed that regulates temperature, 7 pillows, and a surround sound system that plays rain sounds at night.

- When Damien first came into his room, he was appalled at how comfortable it looked.

- Caelum makes hot cocoa and then puts it in the fridge to cool down.

- Huxley’s moms owns 3 cats. One rarely moves, and the other two are menaces.

Taglist: @morgansplace

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Sodor Work History: James Edition

Ugh, it seems to have vanished?? But I had an anon request a James equivalent to my Edward work history post. Of course now that I'm done writing I can't find the ask… #ThanksTumblr… Anyway here goes:

I'd like to! But James is tricky...

The thing with James is, we seem to have a bunch of data points throughout the books on his doings. But there's so much we don't know about the main line working and how many "unseen" engines share the work with our main characters. Like, all the branch line characters are easier to at least assemble pieces into a rough border because there are more constraints there. The main line has too many unknowns. There is a similar problem to sketching out Henry's timetables, but at least with Henry—like with all the other MCs—we know of at least one thing that he is known to do regularly. We don't have a touchstone for James.

Broadly, though, here are a few things I notice (and/or just streeeeeetch to conclude in a fever dream) about James's Sodor career:

He spent a little while there as the closest damn thing Tidmouth had to a station pilot. I feel like this gets completely overlooked. After the bootlace incident he's benched from passenger work, of course, but in addition to goods work he is doing a lot of coach-fetching at the big station. Troublesome Engines says that he continued being the "odd jobs" fellow for a while until he started to rebel. He would never have been full-time—unlike, say, Thomas. Thomas, I'm sure, would have been transferred to Tidmouth when HQ moved and continued there if not for his branch line assignment. But, unlike Thomas, James is trusted to take trains out of the station. But in between those trains he was largely stuck with the shunting. (In "Troublesome Trucks" his tricky goods train appears to go as far as Maron or Cronk? Not traversing the whole line, not yet.) Troublesome Engines says of course that Gordon and Henry had to step up, and also that Edward helped when he was available, but I think it's pretty obvious who was a) actually a Tidmouth engine and b) the newest Tidmouth engine and c) the smallest Tidmouth engine. (To add to this brief period in James's life, I note that the train that pushes him down the hill at the end of TTTE might well be—da dum da dum!—the same train that Thomas lost control of in the previous story. How's that for literary repetition, eh? Anyway, point being, James might have been expected to fill in Thomas's old role on the NWR from the very start.)

During Thomas and Bertie's chase, James is seen in an illustration with a goods train on Thomas's line! Now you can explain away one random illustration if you want, but it does make a lot of sense that in 1948 Thomas might need help running goods on his line—this would have been after the useful working lives of the Coffee Pots, but before Toby (and way before Percy) join the line. So yeah, until Toby's arrival James might have pitched in on Thomas's line fairly often. It's a nice detail. It might have gone all the way back to the '20s or whatever. Certainly James would have been grateful to Thomas for rescuing him so he was probably happy to do it... at least for a while...

Let's talk main line stopping trains. I have a bit of a headcanon here, though it's built on the slenderest of canonical reeds which is why I'm not calling this bit an analysis. We see James with a lot of these stopping trains but in my personal canon I've decided that all such trains we see him on in this era ("Dirty Objects," "Old Iron," "A Close Shave," and maybe "Henry's Sneeze") are 'the Limited,' which I take it is a semi-fast that stops only at major stations (places like Knapford, Wellsworth, Cronk—maybe Crovan's Gate though that seems to leave CG, like, absurdly well-served). No all-stops for James, thank you! Well, occasionally he gets stuck with one but usually that's beneath him.

Sadly for him, throughout most of the '50s goods are clearly not beneath him. If I am right that in passenger work he specializes on the semi-fast, he has no such luck in goods work. "Dirty Objects" has that wonderful description making it clear how much James hates slow good trains but I suspect those are his bread and butter for years to come. Certainly he's in the midst of another such assignment a year later in "Old Iron"—and in that story it is also made clear that, not only does he have to stop at each station to pick up or drop off trucks, at most of these stops he has to do his own shunting. This sounds like it probably takes most of his damn day. The day described in "Dirty Objects" of one morning passenger service followed by one of these endless slogs is probably pretty typical for James in this era.

In the early '50s at least, this routine gets broken up—occasionally—only when there is a need to cover the Express. The '50s were a good decade for it, as, in addition to Gordon's regular need for "rest" or maintenance, James also gets to score big with Gordon's unplanned trip to London and Gordon's lengthy punishment following the Ditch Incident. Jackpot, baby!

[Time-Sensitive Alert: There Is A Tram Engine Blocking Your Line]

I assume all James's appearances at the junction with the narrow-gauge gang are when he's taking an Express. Or maybe some sort of Limited? But it's... fairly consistent that Tidmouth engines are not just randomly on the eastern end of the line unless they're taking some sort of major train—I presume that any of the humdrum 'Locals' on the eastern side are taken care of by Vicarstown engines.

The '50s are when we get the most complete picture of James's working days. I reckon it changed, however, towards the end of the decade. Along with the other 'eight,' our boy's fame is on the rise throughout the decade and I think James effectively parlayed this into doing more passenger work, taking advantage of what was surely a rise in tourism to the island. At some point James is merely picking up the slack when it comes to heavy goods—and then. Then! Donald arrives. Bringing a twin with him! I tend to think at this point James was pretty much relieved from the goods work he had hated for so long completely... for, like, a month or two. Then Donald had to be repaired after his totally-accidental signalbox adventure and TFC observes ruefully that "James will have to help with the goods work... he won't like that!" Surely not, but I think the thing was, when TFC got an unexpected 2-for-1, James was immediately released from that stuff. God, no wonder that by the final story he was so keen for both twins to stay on! For that matter, I also reckon that James was usually tapped for snow-removal duty during winters before the Caledonians came. Really they were a godsend to him in his effort to rise above his station. Ye're welcome, laddie.

Seriously. For the rest of the Wilbert Awdry books, I can't find another instance of James doing goods work. *shrugs casually* Now, Awdry was also giving James far less screen time at this point so you can say definitely say there's not enough data to draw meaningful conclusions. I however prefer to think it was no coincidence but rather a logical effect of recruiting Duck, the Caledonians, and the diesels of the '60s. It makes sense. Heavy goods would have only been getting heavier. Not that it was impossible for James to keep up, but if you have some modern diesels and two Scottish goods engines who love to work together as much as possible then, you know. Why keep forcing James into that role?

I admit that Christopher Awdry fucks up this trajectory. Sigh. Sometimes he is soooo thoughtful about his timetable choices but other times I think he just defaults to some of the most obvious franchise tropes the same way a TVS writer would. It's maddening.

Anyway yeah, I concede that as soon as we see James again in '84 he's taking goods. He's also complaining about having to shunt his train, saying that this should be Donald or Douglas's kind of work, but the twins were both called away to help on Edward's branch line on that particular day so the field is open for James to have his karmic story ("Crossed Lines"). Now you could make a plausible case that what James says when he's grumbling is not to be trusted as gospel truth and that he's exaggerating the degree to which this is now true but I'm inclined to take it at face value.

At any rate, for all the rest of the series, James is seen (when he is seen) taking passenger trains, including at least one turn on the Express in '92/'93, except on a few occasions:

1. Filling in while Henry is in overhaul on the Flying Kipper

2. Working some sort of special job repairing rails along with Donald and Douglas in the final book. Notably he expresses on the last day (well, the "last" day, or so they all thought) that he's looking forward to it being done so he can hopefully go back to passenger trains, but he is remarkably chill throughout the whole story and causes zero (0) drama at all. And you thought Gordon was supposed to be the only RWS character to show growth. Mwahaha!

In short, I suppose when you add in the Christopher Awdry era (you know. if we want to) then it's no longer clear whether James is really doing goods work and odd jobs significantly less or whether he's just bitching about it less. I'm inclined to think Both, however: He's called upon for it less often than in the pre-Caledonian invasion days and therefore he doesn't chafe and bitch nearly about it as much when he is.

Much like we let TVS confirm/fill in the gist of Edward's latter-day career, I feel like we can take similar cues for James. I'm thinking here mostly of the Brenner era, especially *drumroll please* "SOMEBODY HAS TO BE THE FAAAAVOURITE!" vibes. Well, I'm not so sure James is really going around singing his smokebox off (... though it's cute ngl...) but I do think it's true that he is, in general, picking up a steady enough supply of "good" jobs that his ego is pretty well fed. Which is honestly a much better way to manage James than to try desperately to teach him humility, if you ask me.

I'm not sure how useful a proposed timeline will be but it seemed to be some people's favorite part of the last such post I did so I'll give it a try.

1925 — goods trial, first day cow-field crash

1925 — overhaul

1925 — passenger trial, bootlace incident

1925 — station pilot and local goods (western end of line only)

1925 — allowed back on passenger trains, also western end of line only

1928 (or whatever year you allow for the strike and Percy's arrival, which is somewhere between '25-'35) — shifts to a longstanding pattern of morning stopping passenger train (I proposed the Limited, to Cronk and back to Tidmouth) and then has a slow heavy goods out of Tidmouth (this requires stopping and shunting at many stations and takes the better part of the day), probably tacks on an evening passenger service too

1939-1946 — I do think wartime disrupted James's schedule. Ironically I tend to think he got a lot of passenger services, including regular charge of the Express to free Gordon on heavy coal and war materiel trains, but the work was all non-stop hell and Vicarstown certainly and probably Tidmouth also got blitzed so it's not like he got to enjoy it. Troop trains were also probably a James specialty.

1960 — James transitions out of heavy goods work and his longstanding timetable of Limited + slow goods + evening commuter service is changed, probably to something featuring more passenger trains than previously. Fitted goods are definitely an option to replace his hated slow goods assignment.

2010-11 — James picks up a months-long assignment helping with some sort of line repair. Notably it seems to be during the late winter/early spring "off season," so my guess is that he took his usual commuter services but that during the summer and holidays James is also taking frequent specials. It's during that chunk of his "busy season" timetables that he is pulled for stuff like this in the off-season—no need to find coverage for him.

You'll notice the 1920s were suuuuuuper eventful but also only a blip in James's life.

Which is the exact sort of thing that I think we so often forget. They've all lived so much more life than their little highlight stories that we're privy to.

[his-tamine]

HI HELLO have this random thing I wrote while half-asleep that I thought might do numbers on snzblr & appeal to you specifically

A faint, raspy sigh. The scent of cherry and menthol. Baggy clothes that almost swallow their limbs entirely, long sleeves bunched around their wrists and cuffed slacks dragging with each shuffling step. Disheveled curls that catch the morning sunlight. Eyelids heavy, doleful, drowsy with fever, encircled by dark bags that make them look bruised.

A soft hitch. A muffled sneeze that sounds equal parts sleepy and desperate. A second one, far raspier than the first, and far more relieving.

It’s only mid-morning, and their energy is already flagging.

It’s going to be a long day, isn’t it…?

ANON YOU'RE COOKING! GRILLING!! WOK FRYING!!! BAKING!!!! SMELTING DOWN IRON AND FORGING SWORDS!!!!!

Like you mean to tell me you wrote this HALF ASLEEP??? I couldn't write anything like this wide awake, fully energized, completely sober, and after consuming the restless soul of Edgar Allen Poe, bruh. I'm foaming at the mouth like a rabid fox.

You need to hone these skills & become a writer if you aren't already, fr. Everyone clap and cheer 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 Give it up for anon 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Winter Blessings

Ship: Sweeney Todd x Bill Fang

Word Count: 799

Summary: After a decade+ of being in a hot climate against his will, Sweeney has almost forgotten what winter in London is like, along with what it can do to one's physical health. Luckily his boyfriend is willing to lend a hand, even with his stubbornness. CWs for sickness mentions, allusions to murder possibly, outdated medical advice- treatment lifted from here. A/N: I ironically developed a cough while writing this, I love winter. (sarcastic, light-hearted) 👍

Tag List: @canongf @dudefrommywesterns @futurewife

Winter had come and Sweeney still had yet to get his hands around the Judge’s throat. He had been in the parlour only once, back when Sweeney had first returned to London, but a mishap with Anthony had sullied his chances. Furthermore, it had further ruined the quality of life for Johanna, who had been sent away in the Judge’s “fear” of Anthony’s presumed lust for her.

Nobody knew where exactly he had locked her away, but Sweeney’s own ideas about the matter were enough to haunt him night after night. Only one good thing had come of returning home so far, and that was Bill Fang, the sweetest, most understanding man he had ever met. A promise that when all was said and done, someone would still love him. Blood-stained hands and all.

He had almost completely forgotten what winters in London were like after a decade and more of sweating away in prison. He thought he could recall a time when the white snow blanketing the rooftops was magical, but now the icy streets were merely bleak reflections of the pain he felt inside. Even the once pure snow was now a disgusting grey slurry. Considering he had been so far removed from winter as a concept for so long, it never occurred to him that the change in seasons would affect his health. It began as general drowsiness and a slight cough, and as the cold raged on, it developed into sneezing and shakes. He ignored the symptoms, or perhaps he didn’t recognize them due to distractions.

Either way, it didn’t halt him in his tracks, at least not until one evening when he had set out to purchase more firewood. As he was bringing the wood back to the shop, he felt entirely out of breath and as if his head was stuffed with cotton. Sniffling irritably, he pushed forward, the harsh wind slicing at his red cheeks, his skin numbing by the second. By the time he made it back, he was coughing so hard he could barely keep a handle on the split logs. Bill immediately hopped up from his chair beside the fireplace and rushed to close the door.

“Oh, Sweeney, you sound terrible…” He took the wood from him and placed it beside the fireplace before turning to get a good look at him. “My word, you didn’t tell me you were sick! I could’ve gone out to get the wood, you should’ve stayed in!”

Catching wheezing breaths, Sweeney waved his hand dismissively. “Not sick… ‘m fine, really, Bill.”

“Oh no you’re not.” They put their hands on his cheeks. “You’re freezing!” With that, he forced Sweeney toward the fire and began taking off his coat. “How long has this been going on?”

Reluctantly, Sweeney sat in Bill’s chair and let them take off the rest of his outdoor gear. He flexed his fingers in front of the flames and cleared his throat. “Since the first snowfall, I’d reckon.”

Bill made an exasperated sound as he began adding more wood to the fire. “And you’ve been working all this time?? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“It’s a very big deal when you sound like a dog is trying to escape your ribcage, Sweeney.” Bill sighed when he was satisfied with the glow in the room and turned to Sweeney again, cupping his flushed ears. “I want you to close up shop for the time being, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“And Mrs. Lovett’s business?”

“To Hell with it for all I care! I can’t have you withering away on me now!” As they began to hyperventilate, Sweeney placed his hands on their hips.

“Hey, hey, I’m not going anywhere, pup…” He spoke soothingly, pausing to turn his head and cough again. “If you want me to rest, I’ll rest. I promise, I won’t leave you behind.”

They hugged him tightly for a long time, passing on their own body heat to warm their lover’s bones. When they pulled away, they quickly retrieved a blanket and wrapped it around him.

“I’m going to make you some pepper tea, and tomorrow I’m going to prepare a mustard plaster for your back, it should help with the cough. Other than that I want you to drink plenty of fluids and try not to do any strenuous activity until you start to feel better, understood?”

Sweeney’s eyes shown as he looked up at them. “You’re too good to me, you know that? What did I do to deserve this second chance?”

“You’ve suffered long enough, and someday, you will suffer no longer.” They kissed his forehead and set off for the kitchen, leaving him with his thoughts.

[residentdormouse]

Springing into a Word Search

Alright, I have been sitting on this so long, that I got tagged in another set of words in the meantime. Bad Mouse. Must get my writing routine back....

Anyway, thank you @mrsmungus for keeping my tiny writer gears grinding. Although, this is probably my worst showing yet. Not a Spring girl, I'm afraid. Probably not great seeing as my blorbos is all about painting. It's pretty, I suppose....

My Words: Growth, Flower, Fresh, Dawn, Easter, Break, Clean, Rainbow, Blossom/Bloom/Bud, Hayfever (or sneeze, or allergies)

I will as well leave this as an OPEN TAG because I don't know how many would want to join our constant word search absurdity. If you even remotely think, 'hey that might be fun', please do not hesitate to join, and tag me so I don't miss it!

Your Words: Swim, Beach, Sand, Waves, Float, Heat, Vacation, Rest, Relax, Calm

As always, excerpts below the cut.

Growth: Dammit - you got me. Not one mention. Touché.

Flower: (From Diving)

The larger space was a welcome change from the harsh area they had just been in, and Glen welcomed the sight coming from the large picture window on the side wall. Well maintained pebble walkways led around a quaint garden area. A few trees, shrubs, a couple black iron benches, and tinges of pinks, yellows, and oranges popped out from the various flowers planted around the walkways. Crystal clear water fell in a continuous flow from the center fountain, with a few brightly colored fish in the small pond below. He found himself gravitating closer to the scene, as the others could be heard pacing about or taking seats in the numerous open couches scattered around the space.

Fresh: (We got fresh blood, fresh starts, fresh milk, and a fresh hell. Haven't done a Harold section in a while, so Fresh start it is.)

“Okay, so I'm just gonna jump in cause I don't have much finesse with all this and I don't use my words as well as Glen. And you don’t have to say anything. I’ll sit here and babble like an idiot; you can jump in if you want.” Deep breath. “We're about to get to Boulder. You can choose who you want to be now. And correct me if I’m wrong, but right now, you don't seem like somebody who's very happy. So you can keep on carrying pain from a life you don't have anymore, and I’ll stop bothering. But if we're choosing, maybe you can choose to leave that pain here. Right here. When we hit Boulder, you have your fresh start. You can be the guy who holds up his end of deals, and writes stories, and has fun. Or whoever else you want to be." Gaze still locked on the fire, she tapped his foot with hers, trying to pull his attention. "It's your call, but you have that choice..."

Dawn: (Only one Dawn, and its not great. Can you tell I'm not a morning person?)

The night remained clear from threats and capped off the rain day break as a needed detour. Susan and Dayna were able to enjoy the small comfort of sleeping in an actual bed, safe within their room walls. Harold started in on one of the blank books he picked up, filling the journal pages by candlelight. Hayden and Glen found comfort with each other, while he shared stories into the night. And Fran found the walls quiet enough to chance a visit next door with Stu. By the end of dawn the next morning, everything was packed and ready to move on. One step closer to Boulder.

Easter: Once again, you got me. Guess who's least favorite season is Spring...

Break: (Hey! I finally got one from Close to the Vale!)

Humor remained in his expression, most likely resulting from her momentary stupor, but she held his gaze for as long as she could, only breaking away to glance downward when the sliver of self consciousness took hold. Even still, her smile remained. Despite her downcast focus, she was still able to catch the way his eyebrows raised in amusement before he turned back towards the counter. Holding out a packet in the air, he proceeded to move along the worn down surface until he hit an opening.

Clean: (Not the segment you thought you would get for this word, is it?)

"C'mon, everybody needs a little break here and there!" But that’s what Teddy failed to realize; this wasn't a break. Not to him. What Teddy was proposing was entering a social battle that required constant vigilance. Anticipate the moves, blend into the background when possible, and strike out only with a sure bet. Practiced movements and rehearsed repertoire. Break? Exhausting is what it was, and Harold certainly didn't have the energy to put up a front for that long. Not after a full day of clean up. The thought of the daily activities only ushered in a wave of fresh memories. Sensory recall he wished he could will away. Smells that would threaten to up heave anything he managed to put down. Decomposition. It lingered in his nostrils and he could almost taste it. That’s all that was there for him. Death. Disgust… All things he would put up with to position himself where he needed to. A place to get the most leverage when the time came.

Rainbow: (Only two of these, and I'm pretty certain I used the other one on our last Tumblr takeover. Guess we're having a Harold day now...)

"He knows, by the way. So there's that. Knew before I got there. Maybe I shouldn't have confirmed it, but what the fuck, y'know? I'm not gonna blatantly lie to his face..." Knowing her well enough to predict that she would look to follow after his couple puffs, Glen held the pen out to her voluntarily. There was no hesitation to take it. "That said, don't think she was off base with the concern. Something's not right with him." "What makes you say that?" No humor to it, no jokes, just inquiry. "He wants to quote, show the world who it's playing against, unquote, or something like that. However he said it, though, it didn't sound like something one does with rainbows and butterflies." "No, it doesn't." "So, I repeat. When did this all get so fucked…"

Blossom/Bloom/Bud: (Don't have any blossoms or blooms, but we got weed by god. Knew I'd find a 'bud'.)

Despite being quick, or at least thinking he was, it wasn’t fast enough. As he rounded the corner, he spotted Benny laying down on the floor. A few more steps and he could confirm there was no longer a rise and fall to his chest. A few steps further and the gap between them closed. Once he set down his bag, Glen closed the man’s eyes. The small container of buds was then placed in his hands, much like one would place the more common type of flower. Sure, it did nothing for him at this point, and there was nobody left here to know what was done, but it made him feel better. Humanity could die out, but it didn't mean he had to lose himself or his ways along with it. Not until that time came for him as well. As he stepped back out into the daylight, he took a deep breath of the fresh air, savoring the aroma that lacked the lingering stench of death.

Hayfever/Sneeze/Allergies: Holy fuck dude, you got me again. I think this is the worst I've ever done at one of these...

[frozen-borderline]

Letter to Nico's son Ari

New York, October 1982.

"Dear Ari,

You don't know me but I know your, Mum, Nico. Her record company asked me to write a few words for her new release and rather than a serious "critique" I thought it would be fun to write you a letter and tell you a story about her.

There are many good stories about Nico. This is about her penchant for marvelously curious catastrophes and could be entitled: NICO AND THE DOCTRINE OF UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES.

It was 1974 or 75 in Paris. I was managing MAGMA, a fiercely original and uncompromising band, not welcome, of course, on the radio, TV or in commercial clubs. We had a hard time getting gigs and saving money to improve the equipment and we were playing in Maison des Jeunes, parking lots, public squares, abandoned churches, slowly but surely making progress. Although I had never met your mother I knew her work and much admired her uniquely ironic and accurate sense of the dilemmas and contradictions facing modern artists. So, when my friends Bob and Barbara Benamou introduced me to her I was delighted. At the time, pursuing a seemingly obscure but no doubt meaningful artistic quest, she was working with Philippe Garrel who, besides literally starving, was making some mysterious beautiful avant-garde films. She was also living with him in this apartment where everything, but everything, was painted black. Now, you know your mother's propensy to dark, conspiratorial plots, no one can quite follow, and I don't precisely remember how it occurred, but one day she ended up living with my wife, my newborn baby and myself in our house in Sèvres. She was easy to live with, considerate and discreet, except that first thing in the morning she would ask one to partake in a concoction of 100 proof peppered Polish vodka with hot-sauce and God knows what else that would set fire to one's mouth. One night I took her to see MAGMA and she sort of fell in love with their music. Opening her eyes in wonderment she would say in her slow rounded speech: "Oh! But Giorgio, this is the best band in the world..." The band, particularly Christian Vander also liked her work. They, were due for a tour, she for a record, so, I thought, let's put them together for a while and, who knows, something great might evolve. As I told you, intelligent music was not exactly in demand and touring France was more like guerrilla warfare, with endless Identity Checks at toll-booths of the Autoroute, cancellations of concerts for political reasons and other no less harassing difficulties. We were, however, breaking new ground and just about perceiving the end of the tunnel. So, when on a cold, misty and wet morning in February - having warned Nico to expect a certain degree of discomfort - we left Paris, our spirits were high: She needed the money and we needed the exposure.

MAGMA's line-up at the time consisted of 7 musicians and 2 roadies and normally they would all be travelling in an old Mercedes van which took 9 people plus the equipment. With Nico and myself we were 12 now, so I took my car along, an old but comfortable 2-seater, Facel-Vega in which everyone wanted to ride and I had a hard time establishing fair turns.

The first 2 or 3 gigs want off well but as luck would have it - and thanks to drafty hotel rooms and poorly heated halls - your mother came down with a terrible cold. This prompted her to acquire a substantial supply of medicines of all kinds, culminating with a particular brand of cough-syrup which, much to our relief, seemed to alleviate her condition and generally keep her cheerful. Never mean when it came to sharing her discoveries, she invited us all to taste the healing properties of her elixir and soon, everyone began to sneeze, puff, cough and whiffle and buying little brown bottles.

A few days later at one of the most important concerts of the tour —in Lyon or Avignon— I remember her (and everyone else for that matter) getting on stage with a whole supply of these little bottles. Sipping and singing, singing and sipping, she stayed up there for over an hour and a half, finally provoking the legendary impatient French audience into cat-calls and boos.

You can imagine the mood the next day. Never short on quips, Die Alte Zwetschge ("Old Plum", an affectionate tease) was totally disconsolate, disenchanted and displeased with me, the tour, Magma, life and the whole thing. Our next gig was in Toulouse, quite a distance away and I planned to leave early with the sound-roadie to check out the old theatre where the show was scheduled. Somewhat apprehensive, I thought perhaps she should ride with me and the roadie but then decided she'd be more comfortable in the van and after imploring the boys in Magma to use all their guises to cajole her during the long journey, I left.

We got to the theatre early, checked="checked"things out and waited for the van to arrive. 7 O'clock, 7:30, 8, 8:30, no van. The concert was due to start at 9, so we began to worry a little and decided to backtrack up the road and find out what, if anything, had happened. You can imagine my horror when, in the middle of nowhere some 20 miles from the city, I saw the van lying nose down, off the roadside, in a 50 foot deep embankment and, but for empty syrup bottles, no-one in sight. Fearing the worst, I drove to the nearest gas station and called the theatre. No news. I asked the people there to call the police and every hospital in the region and holding my breath drove back to the city as fast as I could. When I got there a considerable commotion was under way: hundreds of people were crowding the entrance, pushing and shoving. Somehow I ploughed my way through got inside and there in the foyer the most sorrowful sight awaited me : looking like a bunch of wounded from World War 1, with bandages on heads, knees, elbows and feet, leaning on crutches and walking-sticks, sat Nico and the most forlorn-looking band of musicians I ever laid eyes on. I know that mine was perhaps not the most considerate reaction, but I couldn't help laughing. Naturally I tried to find out what had happened; between Nico's dark mutterings and the band's contradictory narratives it was impossible to figure out and to this day we'll never really know. I remember that with her bandages and walking-sticks your mother looked like the ultimate Mater Dolorosa of Rock & Roll at the mercy of Unintended Consequences...

Of course the concert got cancelled and so did the rest of the tour. Nico went back to Paris, then to England. Magma went back to saving money for a new van, and the record was never made. Who knows, it might still happen one day. In the meantime I often ask myself: What the hell was in that cough-syrup ?

Sincerely yours, GIORGIO GOMELSKY."