#like I dunno I’m loving that I’m getting them done early and I’m pretty proud of my work :3c

[artofapeach]

Sneak peek of mermaid Verosika! I finished her early :3c

She’ll be posted publicly on May 2, according to the Verosika Maymay schedule. However, if you wanna view it and the other complete prompts early, you can do so by supporting me on Kofi!

[bitch-im-your-biggest-nightmare]

Happily Ever After [Corpse x Reader]

Warnings: Angst, neglect, argument Summary:  corpse and the Reader get into an argument cause he’s been neglecting her for awhile. He overworks himself and when he has days off he’s always with his friends and so she tells him about it, he says some hurtful things to her during the argument. The reader takes his words to heart and she begins to distance herself from him and she stops doing the little things that he loved about her. Whenever he tries to hang out she always rejects him or she’s hanging out with her friends. He then talks to her about it, he wants to know what caused her change of heart. When he finds out it was really his fault, he tries to fix it. Request: @xxasteriaxx​ A/N: This is gonna be a sad one with maybe a happy ending- who knows? My stories are coming out slower now and I am sorry about that! Now that it's Friday, I will try my best to get more stories out during the weekend. Online school has pretty stressful and my sleep schedule has been whack. Tag list: Tag list:  @save-the-sky @alilshit @whatifwedo @hughugh20 @fleurmoon @bi-andready-tocry @itsminniekat @yoongi-holland @loraleiix @hacker-ghost @fanworrior @marvelous-musicals @annshit @unknown-and-invisible @letsloveimagines @babyhoneystvles 

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Y/N didn’t know what went wrong in the relationship. Was it her? Why was she being.. neglected by Corpse? Did she do something wrong? Corpse was always overworking himself with editing his videos, recording, and streaming. And when he has time off, he doesn’t care to spend to time with Y/N. He’s always with his friends in a discord call, playing Among Us, or doing anything else with them. She started to think.. Did he not love her anymore? 

Y/N whipped up Corpse a grilled cheese sandwich. She knew she should cook- it was her hobby and her talent. She also knew that Corpse loved when she made this. She came to the conclusion that he was just stressed and maybe needed some love and food. So she went out of her way to make this meal amazing. It was crispy and looked aesthetically pleasing and delicious. She was very proud of it and was excited to show Corpse. 

She picked the plate up and walked over to Corpses office. She slowly opened the door, wincing at the loud creaking sound. Corpse seemed to be playing Among Us with his friends but wasn’t streaming. She walked over and set the plate down then wrapped her arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Corpse moved his head away a little and squirmed, “Thanks Y/N” Corpse said, focusing on his screen. 

“Can we cuddle after you’re done playing?” Y/N asked. It’s been a while since they have, the bed began to feel oddly cold without Corpses arms around her. She missed it very much, she really wanted to have a nice warm cuddle session with him. 

“Mhm.” Corpse replied dismissively, which made Y/N frown. She give him another kiss and muttered ‘I love you’. She didn’t leave, instead she closed the office door and sat down next to him on the ground. He looked at her curiously, “Aren’t you going to leave?” he asked. 

Y/N frowned, “I wanna spend time with you. I won’t bather you, I promise.” 

Corpse sighed, then got back to playing the game. After a little bit, he finally decided to eat the sandwich. It made Y/N happy to see him eat, she knows he hasn’t eaten in a while. She stayed in that exact spot the whole time he played. When he got off, she stood up and was excited to cuddle with him. She has been waiting for this moment her entire life. She went to hug him and he stood up but- he just.. pushed past her. Y/N frowned, following him out of the office. “Cospsie!” Y/N said, “Aren’t we gonna cuddle?” 

“Oh.. don’t have time. I’m going out for a little bit.” Corpse said, putting his sneakers on and looking for his hoodie. But it wasn’t where he last had it, did he misplace it? lose it? And then he knew, he looked at his girlfriend to see him wearing the hoodie he was looking for. “Can I have my hoodie back?” he asked.

“But it’s comfy!” Y/N smiled, snuggling into it. She loved wearing Corpses clothes- especially his hoodies. And the hoodie she was wearing was her favorite. The deep smell of cologne soothed her to sleep and the warmth was amazing. She thought Corpse loved when she wore his clothes, they were always oversized on her and that's what he loved- but she guessed she was wrong.

“I don’t care can I please have it back?” Corpse asked, beginning to get a little frustrated. 

Y/N was a little caught off guard, but she took the warm hoodie off and handed it to Corpse, muttering a small ‘sorry’ as she handed it to him. She watched him put it on and just leave without saying a word. Y/N was let down, she was really looking forward to cuddling with him.. guess she’ll have to wait. Y/N went to the couch and laid down, grabbing a big that laid across the top to snuggle up in. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep either, she didn’t even realize how tired she was.  

After a couple of hours, when the sun wa setting over skyline and slipping beneath tall standing skyscrapers, Corpse returned home. He was exhausted, he went out to the park and the mall to get a whole lot of things. He dropped the bags on on the island of the kitchen, and walked out into the living room. He saw Y/N cuddled up and frowned. He loved her very much, but she's been getting in the way of his work lately and has been being very clingy. Corpse went over and gave her a kiss on the temple before walking back to their room to sleep. 

~Timeskip~

After a couple of days Y/N began to feel frustrated at how she was being neglected. She missed the warm hugs and kisses she got from Corpse, she getting tired of giving morning kisses with reply. She started believe that love lies, she felt her mind saying Corpse was in love with someone else. That would explain why he liked to go out a lot now. But no, you know from his friends snaps and tweets that hes just with his friends- right? Maybe he fell in love with Sykkuno or Dave or something.. Y/N wouldn’t be surprised. 

She looked through Corpses phone and computer, finding nothing but work, recordings, discords, games, and all that other stuff so he couldn’t be cheating. Y/N decided to ask Corpse why he was neglecting her. Neglect was what she feared... She was already in a abuse relationship where she was neglected and cheated on. Corpse was the only guy that told her ‘I love you’ and really meant it. It was a while until Y/N was confident enough to even begin a serious relationship which every guy she tried pushed EXCEPT Corpse. She was not ready to lose the prize she won with Corpse, she was not going to lose him because he’s too selfish and dumb to put just a few seconds of his time to her. 

She missed the kisses... She missed him.Y/N walked into the living room to see Corpse sitting on the couch. He was texting with someone Twitter, she didn’t know because she couldn’t see the name. “Hey.. Corpse?” 

Corpse looked up, “Yeah?” he said. 

“Uhm... why have you been.. y’know, neglecting me lately? It’s been a while and I really want to spend time with you.” Y/N said, walking over to sit next to him on the couch. 

Corpse sighed, “Can I not have some time alone? You’re being clingy.” 

Y/N frowned, clingy. “Of course you can have time alone! I just wanna spend time with you. Is that a bad thing?” 

“Well, you’re always on my case!” Corpse raised his voice, catching Y/N off guard. “You’re always asking for attention and pushing yourself into my personal space! You always say ‘I love you’ every single fucking minute, I get it! Ok?! Just stop being so fucking demanding!” 

Y/N moved back a little, she was surprised by being screamed at by Corpse- it never happened. She was hurt. Was Corpse right about all of those things? Was she an attention seeker? Was her ‘I love you’s too much? Was she demanding? She sniffed, standing up and walking away to go to their bedroom. 

“Don’t be so dramatic Y/N!” Corpse yelled to her. He had angry built up in his system. He had so much work and so much to do, he couldn’t have Y/N bothering her. And he wanted to have a good social life- he needed friends. Couldn’t Y/N see that?!

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Just like what Corpse wanted, Y/N didn’t bother him anymore. The morning kisses and snuggles were gone. She stopped planting kisses on his cheek and his lips in the morning, night, and throughout the day. She stopped wearing his clothes and hoodies, leaving all the warmth for coziness to Corpse. And she also stopped saying I love you, which she missed so much. She missed all of it, but it was what Corpse wanted and that was all that mattered.

But she also realized that Corpse began to want her attention- but she needed to give him space. He wanted space, that's what he said- so she was going to give it to him! She wasn’t going to bother him during streams, only to give him food and/or a drink. Y/N hung out with her friends more often, giving Corpse as much space as he can possibly can have. 

Corpse just got done streaming and was looking for Y/N. His fans were going crazy on uncomfortable questions today. Apparently they have realized the lack of the Y/N and the lack of Corpse talking about how great she was- they thought something happened like they broke up or she died or something. Corpse was too bothered by Y/N neglecting him to focus on what he was doing, so he ended early. He searched the house but couldn’t find Y/N, so he called her. 

“Y/N? Where are you?” Corpse asked once she picked up after three rings. 

“I’m with Kariya, Eris, and Morgan right now.” Y/N replied, “Aren’t you supposed to be streaming?” 

“Mhm but I ended it early. When are you gonna get home?” Corpse asked. He internally sighed, wishing Y/N was here to spend time with him. He was worried- not that she was gone but because she hasn’t been wearing his clothes. None of his hoodies or shirts were gone. And he knew for a fact that she loved wearing his rose hoodie and his flanel out in public. 

“Dunno. Probably an hour.” Y/N said, “I gotta go now, Kariya just got her nails done.” 

“Oh.. ok bye. Lo-” He was cut off by the call ending. He frowned, was she ignoring him? Why? Did he do something wrong? Did she not love him anymore? He knew he was stressed but he’s not anymore. He decided to scroll through reddit and find some unsettling stories he could maybe read for his channel. He checked his email and saw many good stories that were worth reading for his channel. But soon, he got bored and sat back in his chair and let his mind wander off into the forest of his mind. He hoped for his mind to play in sunlit grass and smell the heather growing but no.. they just ended up wandering down into the undergrowth and crevasses, breathing in the cold musty scent of dirt and moss. He just thought of Y/N.. did he mess up the only relationship he was able to carry? He felt like a river going down into a raging waterfall. There was a stream of sadness that touched his skin like an icicle against his neck. He needed to see what was wrong with Y/N, he needed to know what he did wrong. 

The minutes felt like hours and the hours felt like years. It was dark- very dark when Y/N returned home. When Y/N got home, Corpse perked up at the sound of the front door opening and the familiar pattern of Y/Ns footsteps. Corpse stood up and left his office, greeting Y/N by pulling her into a hug. “I missed you.” 

“Mhm” Y/N hummed, hugging him for a second before walking to their bedroom. Corpse frowned, following her in. He watched as she took her sneakers off- but looked away as she changed her clothes. He sat on the bed ans sat down next to him. 

“Y/N?” Corpse said, watching her face “Why have you been.. like... ignoring me?” Y/N looked at him, but said nothing. “You stopped giving me kisses, stopped wearing my clothes, and most importantly you stopped saying I love you. Whats going on?” 

Y/N looked puzzled, looking at Corpse like he was delusional. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” then she got under the blankets and faced her back on Corpse, turning the lamp on her bedside table off. 

Corpse frowned yet again, his face twisting into confusion. “What? What do you mean?” he asked, but got no answer, “Y/N? What do you mean?” He asked again to no prevail. “Y/N?” He asked, but this time waited a couple seconds. Then he sighed and gave up, getting under the covers and closing his eyes. Lets just say... he couldn’t sleep that night.

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Another day, another day with no cuddles, kisses, or cuteness. Corpse was getting tired, sad, and frustrated. That sentence never left his mind, “Isn’t this what you wanted?” What did she mean? What did Corpse do?

While Y/N was out Corpse decided to turn to his friends for help. Maybe they knew how to deal with it, they were always so nice and helpful. He hit Sykkuno up, saying 

Corpse: Hey I need relationship advice... 

Sykkuno answered rather quickly, making Corpse feel kinda special. 

Sykkuno: Oh no what did you do?

Corpse: That's the thing idk 

Sykkuno: Is Y/N acting strangely? 

Corpse: Yeah shes been ignoring me 

Corpse: Do you think she doesn’t love anymore?

Sykkuno: Y/N? Not loving Corpse? never heard of it. 

Sykkuno: You probably said something that bothered her tbh 

Corpse stared at his screen, then it hit him. All the shit he’s said to her... It all came back to him like an avalanche. 

“Well, you’re always on my case!” Corpse raised his voice, catching Y/N off guard. “You’re always asking for attention and pushing yourself into my personal space! You always say ‘I love you’ every single fucking minute, I get it! Ok?! Just stop being so fucking demanding!” 

Corpse gasped, realizing all the things he said. He felt so much guilt, he did this to Y/N, this is why she hated him now. She had make things better between them, he had to fix things. But how? He didn’t even care to reply to Sykkuno as he googled ways to make a girl happy.

“Be physically and emotionally present.” 

“Send her cute and meaningful texts.”

“Give her loving gifts.” 

“Give her unexpected embraces.” 

“Sit next to her.” 

All of them were great, but didn’t help his case that much. He needed something cute and.. something Y/N will like. He sighed, sitting back in his chair and looking at his ceiling. He decided to try all of these and see which one will help. First, he texted her. Hopefully, she’ll reply.

Corpse🥀: Hey. I just wanna let you know how much I love you and cherish our time together. Every morning of mine gets brighter everytime I see you next to me. I don’t know what I would do without you here with me. <3

He watched the three dots bounce on his screen, but then disappear. He sighed in frustration. That didn’t work. Guess he needed to try plan B, give her an unexpected embrace. Yes, that should work! Right? Y/N loves when Corpse gives her embraces and hugs. It should be the key, right? He just had to wait. 

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After what seemed like days, Y/N finally returned home. She was out with her friends again- just how she always is. He waited for her to settle down and relax. She changed into a cute sweater that gave her sweater paws- something Corpse adored about her. She relaxed and sighed, winding down before Corpse came up and gave her a nice warm embrace, engulfing her in his arms.

“Corpse-” Y/N gasped, moving her legs up a little, “I’m tired.” 

Corpse was not giving up just now, no siree. He picked her up and brought her to the bed. “Then we will cuddle.” He said simply, setting her softly on the bed and wrapping her in a soft crochet blanket. He then in bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling Y/N into a big hug. Y/N didn’t respond, just letting it happen. 

Y/N got a peaceful sleep throughout the night. Its the best sleep she actually got in a while- her sleep schedule has been whack. Maybe it was because the lack of giving affection to Corpse- but she wanted to keep him happy. But when Corpse wrapped his arms around her, she felt at home.

Y/N squirmed out of Corpses arms and walked to take a shower. She wanted to go out with her friends again today. They were planning to go to the mall and stop by at that new sushi place. It was going to be a fun day, it was gonna be exciting. After the shower Y/N dried herself and wrapped a towel around her. She looked in the shared closet she had with Corpse and that nice rose hoodie caught her eye. She went to reach for it, but pulled it back. She can’t wear that! Corpse doesn’t want her to. So she just went with a knitted yellowish brown sweater and dark brown pants. But then she felt the familiar the wetness in her pants. Period blood. Fuck. She quickly changed her underwear and ran to the bathroom, putting a pad on and pulling her thankfully unstained pants up. It was getting colder as Autumn neared so she put a cute scarf on and put her hair in a bun, finished her look off with brown healed boots and makeup. Then she left a note to Corpse saying 

“I'm out with my friends again. Got my period so not really in the mood for anything but i'm fighting it :)”

Then Y/N left, leaving Corpse alone to sleep peacefully.

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When Corpse woke up that morning, he was saddened by the lack of Y/N next to him. He sighed, she must’ve went out again. Corpse decided that he would try one more thing. Just one. And he hoped this idea would work. 

He drove to the park him and Y/N went to on their first date. They are both the laid back but romantic style people so this park was perfect. He already had a nice blanket with him and brought that rose hoodie that Y/N loved. There was this area cut off from the park that lead to a small opening in the woods. The opening showed a lake that had the sun setting in the distance. Corpse thought this would be the perfect place for him to apologize to Y/N. He can only hope she actually comes along.. 

He set everything up at the spit and decided to explore the area a little. It was still morning, he wanted her here at sunset. He walked around a little bit, following the trail that led a small playground. It had 2 swings, a slide, monkey bars, and a little house on the top. There were also benches and a set of rules that no one really listened to. There was a family there- it looked like a party. Grandma and grandpa, mother and father, kids, and what looked like cousins and aunts and uncles. Corpses anxiety and nervousness spiked, he looked sketchy. He had all black on with black nails and these weird silver rings on. He went and sat down on one of the benches and went on his phone, trying to direct his attention to whats going on there. He was asked to join an Among Us lobby, but he declined and said he had something planned. 

After a long time of scrolling through his phone, cloud watching, and eavesdropping on peoples conversations, a women came up to him. She looked nice and asked “Hello, would you mind if you leave? You’re upsetting the kids here.” 

Corpse sat up, he knew he would bother someone.. damnit. “Ah.. yeah yeah sorry for causing any disturbance.” he stood up and waved to the women, walking away and down the trail as casually as he can. The probably thought he was planning to kidnap one of the kids while no one was looking, but how could he? They have hidden cameras in the weirdest places here. 

Corpse headed back to the spot, heading closer to the lake, picking a stone up and throwing it into the lake, making a small ‘droop’ sound as it hit the water. He began to throw many stones into the lake, waiting for 5pm to hit so they could watch the sunset at 6pm. Hopefully. 

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5:40 came around and Corpse decided to text Y/N. He walked over the closest bench and texted her. 

Corpse🥀: Meet me at the [insert park name] right now. Im sitting on a bench near the lake area.

Y/N💕: Ok? 

Corpse sat back and waited, watching the clouds slowly drift by. He picked out pictures in the sky, one of them was a silhouette of two lovers kissing.. and the other was 2 lovers fading away. It just made him sad and uneasy, he was scared that Y/N wouldn’t wanna be with him anymore. He was scared that she would laugh at him and say that she found another guy that satisfied her so much more. He expected that that guy was big, tall, and muscular and was always up for sex and flavors, some guy who gave her everything she wanted, something he couldn’t. 

But he smiled when he saw Y/N walk down the trail. He stood up, waving to her. She noticed him and walked over to him. “Hey Corpse. You wanted to see me here?” 

“Uh yeah... follow me.” Corpse said, realizing her sounded very sketchy. he began to walk, relieved when he heard Y/Ns footsteps behind his. He led her to the spot, the sun was still up but was getting tired, just about ready to soak into the lake and let the moon guard the night. 

Y/N looked around, the scene was beautiful. Flowers bloomed from crisp green grass and the lake flowed lighty. “Wow.. its beautiful here.” She made her way over and sat down on the soft blanket. 

Corpse smiled and sat next to her, grabbing the hoodie he had and handing it to Y/N. She studied it for a second before taking it, smiling and holding it close to her chest. 

“I.. just wanna apologize for neglecting you that. I was being an asshole.. and I.. I'm sorry for being so rude. Truth is, I miss your kisses, hugs, the way you wear my clothes, and the i love yous. I just want my girlfriend back.” Corpse sighed, not daring to look at her. “If you wanna break up and go off with another guy, I understand. I wouldn’t blame you.. who wants to hang out with Corpse Husband anyways?” 

Y/N leaned forward, looking Corpse in the eyes, “Maybe Corpse Wife wants to hang out with Corpse Husband.” she smiled when Corpse looked up at her. “I’m sorry for ignoring you. I thought you would be better off without me annoying you.” 

Corpse hesitated, “I..” he dropped his head, “Stress fucking sucks, doesn’t it? So many people noticed your absence and are asking! Im just so- sorry.” 

“Don’t worry, I forgive you. I love you more than anyone in the world, Corpse. You’re my big ol’ edge king and I love you for it.” Y/N lifted his head to give him a kiss on the lips. 

It turned passionate and pleasant, it was a kiss full of love. It was like hot air blew around them, heating them up just the right ways. It was a kiss that was long overdue, a kiss that they both missed so so much.. and it was finally happening. 

When they pulled away Corpse was smiling so happily and brightly. He hugged Y/N tightly and said “I love you so much Y/N.. I just love you more than life.” 

Y/N smiled, melting into the sweet embrace. “I love you too Corpsie, I love you so much.”

Heh, talk about living happily ever after...

~The End~

[byulsgrease]

to hold ⋆ I promise you

previous || masterlist || next

(~1.2k words, no cw's that I can think of)

"C'mon, let's goooo," she whined. "Why do you always have your nose stuck in a book? We only get 20 minutes for recess, ya know."

Not my fault that Lemony Snicket had little kid me on the hook... for 13 books straight. But Byul, always antsy, begged like an eager puppy. This time was no different. She pried each individual finger off the pages to death grip my hand in hers, nearly yanking my arm off to lead me out of the classroom and out to the playground. Maybe the fresh air wasn't so bad. But I think she could still stand to read a book once in a while.

She did that a lot, now that I think about it. Dragging me somewhere by the arm, holding my hand. It's been a while, though.

☆*:.｡.★.｡.:*☆

From middle school onward, we'd retake the love languages quiz when bored. Or the enneagram. Or the MBTI. And if we were daring or needed a laugh, the rice purity test. It must've been a love languages day. Of course the simplicity of love languages made for small number of possible outcomes, and having been around each other for so long probably made retaking it a bit pointless. But what else would we have done, studied? Hah.

We probably laid side-by-side on the floor of our college dorm while hanging onto our phones for dear life above our heads, the biggest goal always to prevent the pain of dropping them on our faces, but it usually happened anyway.

"Did the questions change? I swear it's a little bit different every time."

"I think you just forget what the questions are every time," she responded in her typical teasing nonchalance.

"I suppose we always retake these once we've forgotten what our results are."

"But we know each other's love languages by memory. And our own."

"Yeah, but the percentages could change. You done?"

As a kid, my mom made me take the quiz. Maybe she tried to peer into my psyche or something, but I got gifts as my primary. I still don't understand if "gifts" means receiving or giving, because I'm an absolutely terrible gift-giver. But receiving always seemed materialistic. I know now that it's the "this gift made me think of you" sentiment, but still. Not a truth to be particularly proud of. The other languages always seemed more noble, or at least deserving.

"Yep. Same as always, physical touch followed by quality time."

"Oh shit, 3-way tie between gifts, words of affirmation, and quality time," flipping the results screen towards her. I guess this is why I remember. She let out a surprised hum.

"That's new."

"Do you remember the last time we took this?"

"Absolutely no idea. But hey, this means you're ~changing~," she emphasized with a chuckle.

"College has certainly changed us," I pointedly agreed.

"Mm, yeah." Her lips pursed in thought.

Whether we thought about the same changes or not, I had no clue. Sure, we changed as individuals, but I think our relationship changed in early adulthood too, the "us". I guess that's just what came with growing up. We weren't (and aren't) kids anymore.

☆*:.｡.★.｡.:*☆

I have no clue what possessed her to ask.

"Hey, can you hold me?"

"You're really that touch starved, huh?" It's not my primary love language. She blushed, skin's usual paleness subsumed by an absolute pink.

"I dunno! I just thought I'd ask..." Her hand came up behind her neck sheepishly, fingers toying with the hair at the base of her skull. I laughed. Big part of our relationship, laughing— with and at each other —all the time.

Opened up my arms and waved her over to the couch anyway, not like we had anything better to do. She slipped in, pressing her back into my chest. Unsure of proper hand placement, I rested one on her hip. Her fingers immediately clasped around my wrist with conviction and brought my arm down around her front in an actual spooning position, hand now in front of her other hip. The scent of her cologne she always insisted on wearing remains unforgettable. She’s changed it several times over the years but always seems to return to this one. Heck, she’s probably wearing it today.

"So what's this for, exactly?" I asked, head lifted and turned down to peer at the side of her face. She paused before answering, probably trying to figure out how much she wanted to divulge.

"I'm just stressed, school and all," she sighed, absentmindedly tracing lines on my sleeve with one hand and supporting her head with the other. Figured it was best to not press in much further— she's not the most forthcoming but I'd known from past squabbles that she'd only tell me as much as she needed to. "You know what I actually want? Someone to tell me that it's gonna be alright. I feel like being an adult just gets harder as time goes on— what's the point," she huffed existentially. "I just wanna be a kid again, where I didn't have to care about anything."

"You really wanna go back to when we were kids?" She had to be kidding, right? Did she not remember the incident?

"Yeah, like back when my biggest problems were things like getting you to play outside with me or explaining away to my mom where all the ramyun went," she said with a half-smirk and slight shake of her shoulders, reminiscing. I stay silent and let her enjoy the re-lived memories, if I brought up the obvious the conversation would've probably taken a turn for the worse.

"Okay, well," laying back down to rest my chin on her shoulder, "I'm here to tell you that everything will be fine. We're working hard, it'll turn out." Hopefully it came out confident and assured— I had no idea what the hell I was doing back then either. She blushed again and shrank further into herself (and my arms, by proxy), turning her head away from mine to bury her cheek into the couch. "Aww, Moonstar getting flustered?" I teased, squeezing her tighter as the heat radiated off her face. I paused and said more seriously, "You work way too hard taking care of everyone else. It's okay to want the same for yourself and ask for it, even if I poke fun."

That might’ve been the first time I kissed her— on the cheek, at least. I had no idea what possessed me to do that. Guess I just wanted to hit the point home?

Before this, I had no clue I could have that kind of effect on someone. Making friends came pretty easy to me, but Byul instantaneously charmed the pants off nearly anyone she met. I'd say both of us weren't really the type to date around, though. Even casual crushes seemed pretty rare— or at least based on the ones we deemed important enough to talk about with each other.

But yeah, she got all flustered too, stammering and stumbling over her words, which I found endearing (next to funny). I just shushed her and squeezed her tighter, resting my cheek against hers as they shared the mutual burn. It’s not like I had the words either. Still don't.

Not to say that our relationship remained strictly platonic, it certainly didn't. At least not back then.

[lululawrence]

Wordplay 5.0 Reflections

I dunno what else to call it lmao it doesn't sound right to call this a meme, but whatever it is, here we are! lol @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed came up with these questions after @wordplayfics wrapped up last year and I love them so i'm gonna use them for this year as well.

I'm going to start out with listing the prompts and linking the fics i wrote for each one for everyone's reference, though I'll be linking them again through the answers as well. I'm also putting all the questions and answers beneath a read more because, as usual, I rambled lmao Alright! Here we go!

Struggle: I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right Reduce: I Love This Feeling (But I Hate This Part) Divide: He Carries The Key Rise: Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy Sketch: I Heard You Talking

How did you come up with your ideas for the fics? Can you take us through your process after first receiving the prompt?

I don't know that I have a set way I come up with my fic ideas for Wordplay. It all depends on the prompt and what fic ideas I've got on my "to write list" that might fit that prompt. If nothing on my to write list fits or can be tweaked for a prompt, then I just go through my prompts tag until something strikes me for it, or I just ruminate on the different ways the word can be used and see if something comes up.

So, when I did the random word generator for the first prompt and "struggle" was the word that came up, I immediately thought of "struggle bus". lolllll and when I went looking through my to write list, I saw the girl Payneshaw fic I wanted to write and I was like omgggggg Nick ABSOLUTELY is riding the struggle bus the ENTIRE FUCKING TIME and I knew that was my fic for the week. lmaoooo and there you have it.

What is your favorite fic you wrote for Wordplay this year?

oooohhhh this one is HARD AND MEAN lmaoooo i forgot this was a question asked. okay legitimately i cannot choose a favorite because i'm actually stupidly proud and happy with all of the fics i wrote this year.

If you’ve participated in previous years of Wordplay, what has been your favorite prompt from all years you participated in?

WELP. as the creator of this challenge, i've participated in all 5 years which means there've been 25 prompts i've written. lolllll and honestly i think my favorite prompt is STILL from the first year. it was "bloodsucker". like, how great of a prompt is that???

What was the shortest fic you wrote this year? The longest?

the shortest one this year was... I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right at 4381 words.

the longest one was... I Heard You Talking at 10580 words.

What fic of yours surprised you?

i think all of them surprised me in some way. that's part of the joy of writing fics, isn't it? lollll but i think the one that surprised me the most was Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy. it was a last minute change (i'll elaborate in the answer to the next question haha) and it was a VERY different direction than i had planned. it was all based off of a photo i saw on tumblr, and there was no prompt with the photo. i got to just take in the basic idea of the sticker being placed on a bridge overlooking the city and what might make that spot a good kissing spot.

now, as an ace who doesn't actually ENJOY kissing, i... didn't think about the fact that i would be writing a lot of it. lollll i actually have a super hard time writing kisses and trying to make them varied while also relaying the emotional intimacy of the moment, and then add on top of that the fact that once i started writing the fic, both harry and louis let me know pretty much as soon as words started getting written that they were both genderqueer and that worked differently for each of them, so harry would use they/them pronouns and louis would use he/him still, it just made things more interesting. and the way the fic developed??? like, i had a very vague idea of what would happen in the fic. so the way it actually came about all surprised me.

long answer short, from the very start, this fic surprised me and i was just along for the ride. it was a BLAST and i sure do love it, even if it does have the second lowest hits of all the fics i wrote this year haha

Were there any prompts you struggled to find an idea for?

STRUGGLED HAHAHA sorry. just funny since struggle was a prompt this year. ANYWAY. the prompt i had the hardest time with was defo rise. i've had this fic idea ever since greg james tweeted with shawn mendes months ago about how shawn basically forgot his interview with greg on the breakfast show, so greg had to last minute wing a LOT OF AIR TIME AND SHOW CONTENT and he did a great job, but it brought about some funny content... anyway. that made me wanna write a triad a/b/o fic where greg is louis and harry's beta. rise was going to be used in a lot of different ways through the fic, as well. because breakfast show requires greg to rise from bed early, he gets a rise out of harry and louis with his behavior and overt flirtations with shawn, they have to rise above their jealousy, etc etc etc. i was VERY EXCITED.

except i only had three days i was able to write every week this summer, and those were really really difficult to get. if i wanted to write on tuesday or thursday, i was often curling up with my laptop in a dark room with some caffeine and candles burning to soothe me after the insanity that is my life atm, and write for as long as i could before my brain stopped functioning, which was often only around 30 min. but see, that particularly week was the worst part of my son's 18 month sleep regression, which meant instead of him sleeping and letting me write, i was driving him around or trying to rock him back to sleep or letting him play in an attempt to tire him out etc etc etc and by friday morning i had to admit to myself there was no way i could write that a/b/o fic in my one guaranteed evening to write every week (saturday, btw). so i was suddenly left with around 36 hours to find a new fic idea and develop it enough to be able to write it in one evening.

as i said in the answer to the first question, i usually go to my prompts tag to see what might inspire me with this prompt word in mind, but for this one that wasn't the first place i went. i tried looking at more definitions even though i'd done that earlier and nothing was inspiring me. so i then spoke to several friends and was still having a hard time finding any ideas that felt like something i would enjoy writing and could do so quickly.

by saturday morning, knowing i had less than 12 hours to figure out what i was writing so i could actually WRITE IT in only like 2-3 hours of writing time, i finally sat down and scrolled through my prompts tag. once i did, i saw the photo for the "good kissing spot", and i immediately thought of sunrise. so i ran with it. but i wanted to make it stylinshaw, so how would i work that in, etc etc etc. it was just very fast and very difficult trying to figure out how i would structure it so it could be a fun meet cute kind of fic, but also work into them actually building a meaningful connection etc and... well. it was a lot. haha so yeah, it was just a hard time overall that week, but i'm super proud of it in the end.

Were there any prompts you had an idea for but ended up writing something different? If so, what made you choose to change what you wrote? Do you think you’ll ever write your original idea at a later date?

HA okay well i already answered most of this above, but for the last part of this question, yes i will absolutely write my original idea at a later date. the whole reason i decided not to do it wasn't because i couldn't turn it into a fic that could be written in that one writing session, but because i had hopes for what that fic would be, and i didn't want to shorten and condense it enough to do that. i didn't want to have to lessen the dreams i have for that fic in my head, so i decided i would just put it back on my to write list and save it for later. who knows when, but that fic will absolutely get written.

What do you think was the most difficult as well as the easiest part about the Wordplay Challenge?

most difficult was 100% finding the time to write. that was insanely hard for me all summer, but by the time wordplay was going, things at home had ramped up to being very overwhelming regarding the demands on me and my time, and what i had been doing to carve out some time for myself and writing wasn't working anymore, so i had to adjust even more with the understanding that i was working on a really strict timeline too. so yeah. just finding the time was absolutely the hardest part for me.

easiest part was the actual writing. these fics really flowed from me, outside of the pack fic, that one was actually pretty difficult to make sure i was getting the dynamics exactly the way i wanted to have them turn out, but even with that aspect, it still was like it flowed from me most of the time. these fics really just took over and i was along for the ride. it was a blast.

If you participate again next year, is there anything you’ll do differently? If so, what?

lmao well assuming people still want wordplay to happen again, i'll run it again and very likely will take part. so... with the difficulty i had in finding any time to do anything this summer, i was actually ridiculously stressed when it came to the writing part, but also the modding aspect of it. so i am not sure that i'll run it during the summer again next year. i might have it go during the early fall once school is back in session so i at least have only one child at home instead of three to battle lol so that's one thing i'll hopefully be doing differently.

as for the writing aspect, i don't think so actually. i've done 5 years of this, and i'm having fun with it. haha if i ever find a fic idea i think could work for it, i would consider doing a series for it next year, but it all depends on if there's something i'd like to write that could work for that kind of set up with this challenge.

if you made it this far, thank you for reading!!! xxx

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Dick reached as high as his eleven year old legs could take him, towards a set of pots in the cabinet. It wasn’t enough, but Bruce stepped over to help him, setting the pots down on the kitchen island.

“Okay,” Bruce said. “Review the rules for me again?”

“Alfred gives us three ingredients,” Dick explained, “and we have to make something that has all three in it.”

“How much time do I get?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“And I have to present it, right?”

“Yeah. Alfred’s the judge.”

“And then?”

“He puts the dish that loses under a cover, and we wait for a dramatic reveal.”

“Oh, drama. Good.”

Dick gave Bruce a look. “I’m gonna be the announcer.”

“I thought you were doing it with me?”

“I’ll be a contestant too.”

“Is that going to work?”

“Oh yeah,” said Dick, smiling brightly. “It’ll be great. Ready to start?”

“I guess.”

Dick ran to the other side of the kitchen, flipped off the light switch, did a quick twirl, and flipped it back on. He slid into the middle of the kitchen on his sock feet. 

“Good evening!” he said, in his best commentator voice. “And welcome back to Chopped at the Wayne Tower penthouse. I’m your host, Dick Grayson, and today I’ll be competing against Mr. Bruce Wayne!”

Dick struck a confident pose, motioning for Bruce to do the same. Bruce half-laughed and stepped forward into what Dick recognized as his Batman-overlooking-the-city stance. 

The image cracked Dick’s persona, and he laughed so hard he had to bend over and breathe for a few seconds. He got back to business. 

“Let me introduce you to our judge, the honorable Alfred Pennyworth! Let’s give him a round of applause, folks!”

Alfred gave a solemn nod from his place at the dining room table. Dick ducked to the other side of the island, clapping his hands loudly to simulate a fake audience. Bruce joined in.

“Contestants, grab your baskets!” Dick pulled his own cloth covered basket, the one Alfred prepared for him, from the island counter. It had some heft to it. He wondered what was inside. 

“Let’s take a look! Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce flipped open the matching basket on his counter and lifted out a glass jar. “Cherries,” he said, holding them up. 

“And?”

“Chocolate chips.”

“And last?”

“Uh.” Bruce examined another jar, this one plastic, and set it back down. “Cinnamon peanut butter.”

“Hm,” said Dick. “Interesting. A dessert round.”

“Oh yes,” Alfred confirmed. 

“Do you have the stop-watch?”

“I do, Master Richard.”

“Okay then— on your mark, get set… go!”

Dick ran towards the pantry, but Bruce stepped in front of him, blocking the way. 

“Hey!” Dick complained. 

“Sabotage,” said Bruce, grinning, before he let Dick pass. 

Dick pulled the bag of pancake mix from a shelf and scooted sideways, holding it behind his back so Bruce couldn’t see. Unnecessary, he realized, since he was going to announce his choice anyway. 

“Dick Grayson takes an early lead in speed! He has selected a bag of breakfast mix! Mr. Grayson, what do you plan to make?”

“Waffles!” said Dick, answering his own question. He slid over to the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk and a container of heavy whipping cream. “I’ll be making chocolate chip waffles using the cherry juice for color and flavor, with the fruits themselves on top.”

“What about the peanut butter?” asked Bruce. 

“Flavor for whipped cream.”

“Oh. That’s clever.”

“No copy-cats. That’s cheating.”

“Right.” 

“What about you, Mr. Wayne? Ideas?” Dick pushed himself off the island and held a spatula up at Bruce’s face like a microphone.

Bruce held up a packet of something. 

“Ah!” Dick nodded in approval. “Can you tell us— why Jell-O?”

“It has instructions on the box.”

“You make good points.”

“I’m using the Speed-Set method. It’s highly technical.”

“I’m sure it is.” 

“But I’m still not positive it’s going to set in time.”

“I guess we’ll see?” said Dick. “It’s a good idea anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“Alfred will taste this jello, and you will taste defeat.”

“Okay.”

Dick ran back to his island with a mixing bowl stolen from Bruce’s side of the kitchen. 

“Hey!” Bruce complained. 

“Sabotage,” said Dick, grinning. 

Dick stirred his milk into the waffle mix, then dumped in a generous pour of cherry juice. The mixture turned a delightful shade of bright pink. Dick left it for a few moments to slide back to Bruce’s side of the room. He overshot slightly and collided softly with the counter. 

“Whoops. Mr. Wayne, how does it go at station number two?”

“Well,” said Bruce. “I’m using the cherries in this jello, but I don’t really know what to do with the other two ingredients.”

“Thought process?”

“None.”

“Oh, sure.”

“I bet chocolate and peanut butter go together,” Bruce mused. 

“Yeah.”

“But in what?”

“I dunno.” Dick stepped back into the kitchen center. “Time?” he yelled.

“Eighteen minutes left,” said Alfred. 

Bruce hurriedly shoved a few glasses of red jello into the freezer. Dick returned to his station to pour his chocolate chips into his mixture. 

He pulled the waffle iron from the cabinet under the counter, sprayed it with the bottle of no-stick, plugged it in, and waited for it to heat up. While he did, he wandered over to Alfred’s table with his spatula. He held it out to Alfred. 

“Judge Pennyworth, your impressions?”

“I believe this will be interesting if nothing else.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I have not decided at this point.”

Dick nodded. “Time?”

“Fourteen minutes.”

“Oh, I better get back.”

Waffle iron ready, Dick gave his pink mixture a final stir and poured it in. He did spill some over the side of the bowl, and the counter, and the iron, but that was okay by him. The waffle iron steamed cheerily. 

Dick rummaged through the drawers for a whisk. He added vanilla and powdered sugar to his cream, then scooped in a few spoonfuls of peanut butter, then began to whisk as quickly as possible.

While he did, he went to investigate the other side of the kitchen. 

“Mr. Wayne! Have you formed a plan?”

“I think I’m going to make hot chocolate. With peanut butter.”

“And jello?”

“Served with jello.”

“That doesn’t really… go together.”

“I’m aware. It’ll have to do.”

“Okay, I guess. I gotta flip my waffle.”

Bruce nodded. Dick spun around a few times, just because, and flipped his waffle. He returned to his whisk. 

“Time?” Bruce called.

“Eight minutes.”

“Thanks.” When Dick looked over, Bruce had the milk. Bruce poured it into a mug, studied it for a few moments, and stuck it in the microwave. He hesitated again before punching in a number.

One minute. Dick shrugged. He didn’t know how long to put it in either. Alfred always made the hot chocolate at home, and before that, Dick’s dad. Bruce’s guess was as good as his. 

The microwave hummed as Dick’s whipped cream began to peak. He hummed along with the microwave in satisfaction. 

“Six minutes,” said Alfred. 

Dick’s waffle came out just fine, if not as pretty as he wanted. The chocolate chips that landed on the outside of the waffle marred the color a little bit, but the rest was suitably bright, and Dick liked it.

He set the waffle on a plate, stuck a few cherries on top, and slid to Bruce’s side again. Wait until the last moment to put on the whipped cream, he figured. That way it wouldn’t wilt. 

“Mr. Wayne appears to be stirring in chocolate chips and peanut butter,” Dick narrated. “Any comments, Mr. Wayne?”

“I hope my jello set.”

“I do too. Are you going to pull it out now?”

“I suppose.” Bruce stepped over to the freezer and removed his glasses. The red at the bottom of the glasses jiggled a little bit over the cherries settled at the bottom.

“Hm,” said Bruce. 

“I think it set.”

“Maybe.”

“One minute,” said Alfred. 

Dick heaped on a dollop of peanut butter whipped cream and set his plate on the table in front of Alfred. Bruce followed with a glass of jello and a gently steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Time,” said Alfred.

“Folks, it’s time for Judge Pennyworth to make his comments. Judge Pennyworth?”

“I comment,” said Alfred, “that this is surprisingly competent on Mr. Wayne’s part.”

Bruce took a bow. 

“We’ll start with Mr. Grayson’s dish. It’s a lovely color.”

“Thank you,” Dick said, smiling. 

“And for taste…” Alfred scooped off a section of whipped cream and nodded thoughtfully. “This is very nice. Let us taste the waffle.”

Dick beckoned Alfred onward. 

“This also is very nice,” Alfred decided. “Well done, Master Richard. We will now move to Mr. Wayne’s dish. Hm. Jello does not go with hot chocolate.”

“I know,” Bruce groaned. 

“But the fine glass goblets are a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“Your jello does appear to be set.”

“Thank God.”

“And this hot chocolate is ah,” Alfred took a sip, “a little flavorless, actually. I might suggest more chocolate next time.”

“Hm,” said Bruce. “I will take that into account every other time I do this.”

“Your sarcasm is unappreciated. If you could both leave the room?”

“Okay!” Dick grabbed Bruce’s arm and pulled him out through the living room and into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. 

“Was it fun?” Dick asked. 

“Sure.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

“As long as you’re having fun, I’m having fun.”

“I am ready,” said Alfred’s voice.

They hurried back into the dining room, where Alfred sat at his table with a large, covered platter in front of him. 

“Yes!” Dick exclaimed. He hopped in front of the table with his spatula. 

“Before we show a winner, let’s talk about our experience. Mr. Wayne! You put on a great show today. Why did you join this contest?”

“Oh thank you, I was forced to be here.”

“Forced by your love of cooking?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you proud of your dish?”

“I am, actually. That’s the best I’ve done in years.”

“I can confirm,” said Alfred. 

“You’re in fine form today,” said Bruce. 

“Okay!” said Dick. “Whose dish… is on the chopping block? Judge Pennyworth?”

Alfred lifted his cover to reveal a goblet of jello and a mug of hot chocolate.

“It was a hard decision, but alas, one I had to make.”

Dick grinned. 

“Bruce Wayne! Gotham nobility, the guillotine has come.”

“Dark,” said Bruce. 

“You have been chopped.”

“Okay.” 

“I receive honor and glory as my prize.”

“You receive clean-up duty,” said Alfred. “Both of you.”

[mummybear]

Cursed To Distraction

This Is Day 25 Of Roleplay May

Words: 5183

Warnings: Smut, Impala Sex, Swearing, Teasing, Sex Curses, Oral Male And Female Receiving, Filthy Dirty Talk ;), Size Kink, Dry Humping, Rough Sex. Think That’s It.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader, (OC’s) Molly and Ash.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a bartender hits on you in what you think is attempt to make Dean jealous, what happens when not everything is quite as it seems?

A/N: So, this ran over way longer than it was supposed to but I’m really proud of myself for getting as much posted as I did! So sorry this is late again and thank you so much to everyone who has helped me and who has continued to read these smutty little works of mine, it really does mean so much to me :) I will be posting the roleplay May masterlist later today, and I will pin it to my tumblr main page for a time, for anyone who is interested! Once again thank you to Bee for betaing for me again :) @negans-lucille-tblr​ I honestly dunno what I would’ve done without you the last few months :) and a big thank you to @deanwanddamons​ and @dylanholyhellobrien​ as well as everyone who read any and all of the fics!

Another successful hunt had brought Sam, Dean and you to one of the local town's bars. You were surprisingly less disgusted by this one, especially compared with a lot of the others which you’d been in lately, this bar was practically paradise. The three of you sitting in a corner booth, hidden away from the rest of the bar a little and you were steadily getting tipsy. Which was actually kind of unusual for you with it being this early on, in fact, you weren’t sure that you’d even drank that much.

You lean across the table and gather the beer bottles, making your way to the bar since it’s your round. The trouble is, the more you drink the harder it is for you to hide your feelings for one Winchester in particular. Walking over to the bar you look up, meeting the bartender's eyes and she smiles at you, a smile that’s a little more seductive than you’d been expecting and you certainly hadn’t been expecting the wink she throws you. She's actually kinda hot, you're surprised that Dean hasn’t hit on her yet.

Looking back at the table for some kind of indication you weren’t seeing things, you quickly find that the brothers are deep in conversation. You hand her back the beers with a gentle smile and go to order another three. She has them in front of you before you even get the words out. You thank her and pay for them but she gently takes hold of your arm before you can leave and hands you another drink.

“This one is on me, if you’ve got five minutes?” She asks curiously, licking her plump red lips as she leans forward on the bar.

You take the seat at the bar and take the offered drink, drinking down the shot in one gulp.

“I’m sure I can spare a few minutes,” you reply, licking the drop of whiskey from your lips.

“Good. So, what’s your name?” 

“Y/N, how about you?” you ask as she refills your shot glass from the bottle she’s keeping right in front of her.

Flicking her brown curly hair over her shoulder, her sparkling brown eyes meet yours and she smirks when you take yet another shot.

“You can call me Ash.” She tells you grabbing a beer of her own from under the bar and taking a long pull, wrapping her full lips around the opening of the beer bottle. Licking her lips before she speaks again, “I have a question for you, Y/N. How long have you had the hots for your friend over there?” Ash asks nodding over to where Sam and Dean are sitting. 

“What are you talking about?” You half laugh,but the blush you can feel rising in your cheeks is a dead give away if your voice hadn’t been enough.

“Oh sweetie, of course you do. You can tell me, it’s kinda what us bartenders do. He definitely likes you too, take my word for it.” She assures you, nodding over at the table as her fingers brush your arm.

You turn to look at the table surprised to see Dean watching you intently while Sam seemingly talks to himself. “You think so?” You ask curiously, turning back to her, finding her smiling wide again.

“Trust me. Now, do you want me to help?” She asks, leaning forward so she’s an inch away from your face. “Or  if he’s too chicken shit to do something about it, there’s always me.” She smirks, taking another swig of her beer. 

“Sure, what’ve you got?”

“He’ll either really fucking love this or he’s gonna really hate it. Either way, win win for you.” She grins, leaning in and pressing her soft lips against yours. You lean over the bar a little further when she cups your cheek and you feel something strange and warm in your stomach but you ignore it.

Ash pulls back from your lips and drags her teeth over her full bottom lip. 

“Are you always this nice to strangers?” you giggle, when she wipes her lipstick from your lips.

“Hmm, only the cute ones,” she winks, making you blush all over again. “Now, give it a go, tell him what you want. You never know, he may want it too,” she suggests, pushing the beer bottles towards you. You look between her and the table where the boys are staring at you with open mouths and there’s a pretty girl sitting beside Sam who just looks a little like she’s impressed.

Confidence swims through your veins as you swipe the beers from the bartop and walk back to your table with an extra swing in your hips. What you don’t see is the way that Ash smiles as you walk away or her hiding the bottle she’d been pouring your shots from with a purple glint in her eyes.

“What the hell was that, Y/N?” Dean asks with a grin when you slide Sam’s bottle to him across the table. You smile at the girl that he has his arm around and she returns it confidently.

Ignoring Dean’s question, you slide into the booth beside him, feeling the warm feeling return to your belly when his knee nudges against yours. 

“Who’s your friend, Sam?” You ask with a knowing smile. The girl grins back at you and leans over to shake your hand before Sam can speak.

“Hey there Y/N, I’m Molly.” She smiles sweetly. She seems nice and really cute but you can clearly tell she’s not someone to be messed with. Your suspicions are confirmed when Sam tells you she’s another hunter and she’s actually on a hunt right now. Basically, she’s the exact kind of girl you would hope for Sam to find. 

You’re trying to ignore the sudden need to straddle Dean and kiss him as you listen to Sam and Molly tell you about the case. But since his knee had brushed yours you can’t wash the thoughts from your head. You’re starting to get the feeling that something is wrong, because that feeling is back in your stomach and your hands are shaking. You glance over at the bar, quickly noticing that Ash is missing but you can’t seem to form the words. 

“Sweetheart?” Dean asks gently, shaking your shoulder but his skin against yours almost makes you whimper, you have to bite into your lip to stop the noise from escaping when you look at him. Those plump pink lips of his wrapped around his bottle as he finishes it off, you do the same to try and get rid of the dry feeling in your throat.

But you quickly realise that the warm feeling you’d had in your stomach has moved. Now you find yourself fidgeting in your seat, it’s like you’re unable to ignore the way that Dean makes you feel. All you can think about is how good he looks, licking your lips as you look over at him and for once you allow yourself to really look at him. Noticing just how many freckles dust his face, the curve of his lips as he listens to his brother talk with a slight smile. The crinkles beside his perfectly green eyes and you certainly don’t miss the clench of his jaw when you press yourself closer to him, even if it’s subconscious at first. The second time you do it, you do it completely on purpose.

Sam and Molly are in deep conversation when you finally fully turn to Dean with a smile, leaning into him you press your lips to his ear as one of your hands rests on his thigh beneath the table and you feel him stiffen beneath your touch. You feel Dean shiver when the tip of your tongue flicks at his earlobe.

“Fuck, you smell good,” you groan quietly. Your free hand moving over his chest as you press yourself closer, hooking one of your legs over his knees. “And you’re so big and strong, I bet you could throw me around our motel room so easily couldn’t you, Dean?” You breathe out against his ear as your hand slides up higher, feeling him jump where he sits when your hand brushes over his half hard length and gently squeezes.

Neither of you even notice Sam and Molly slipping out of the booth.

“Fuck,sweetheart. What the hell has gotten into you?” Dean asks his voice deeper than usual, trying to hide his moan when you grab one of his hands and slip it just beneath your t-shirt. You feel his fingers grip your hip, clearly forcing his hand not to move any further.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, gorgeous. I just finally decided to let you know just how fucking hot you are, that’s all. I’m sure you already know but I would really love to show you.” You giggle hearing him groan your name. It sounds like he’s trying to warn you but if that’s the case, then he’s failing miserably. 

“So, did you enjoy the show earlier? I Couldn’t help but notice you were almost falling off of your chair just to get a good look.” 

You quickly shift your body and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and your eyes stay locked on one another. His free hand moves to grip your other hip, stopping you from rolling your hips down into him. 

“It was hot, sue me. And as much as I know I’ll regret saying this later, this right here, this is not you,” Dean states firmly, fixing you with a look that makes you shiver when it probably shouldn’t.

Reaching behind you,you smile at Dean seductively as you grab your beer and take a long swig, enjoying the way his eyes move between your lips and your throat. Once it’s empty you place it back on the table and lick the few drops from your lips. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he says quietly, which of course you already are.

Ash looks from her spot at the bar, cussing him under her breath when she notices Dean looking for something she doesn’t want him to find. But she’s quick with an idea and makes her way over to the couple.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Ash purrs seductively, looking down at you in Dean’s lap and she leans forward and roughly presses her red lips to yours, causing your hands to dig into Dean’s shoulders and you certainly don’t miss the way that his hands tighten on your hips.

“Hey, you,” you wink when she pulls back. “This is Dean,” you inform her, running one of your hands through his soft hair, feeling his head tilt back as he follows your touch.

She smiles at you and turns her attention to the older Winchester. 

“Well, aren’t you a lucky boy?” Ash grins, surprising Dean when she presses her lips against his, he doesn’t pull away and you giggle feeling his grip on you loosen on your hips. Dean pulls away quickly and turns to you, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip before his mind seems to be made up. You don’t have time to question the flash of purple that sparks in his green eyes because his lips quickly press against yours. 

You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself closely against him. Dean’s tongue flicks out against your bottom lip as his hands move behind you to grip your ass tightly. 

“You wanna get outta here?” Dean grunts against your parted lips when you roll your hips down into the line of his now fully hard cock. 

“You sure? You sure changed your tune.” You tease, feeling the grip he has on your ass tighten.

Dean pauses for a moment, letting his eyes flick between your eyes and lips before he shakes his head.

“Well, whatever was stopping me before I can’t remember.” He chuckles, leaning in closer once again so his lips are brushing yours when he speaks and his eyes stay locked on yours.

“All I can think about right now is burying myself between your thighs, see if you’re as small and tight as you look like you’re gonna be. Haven’t stopped wonderin’ about how sweet that pussy tastes,” He rasps quietly, the green in his eyes darkening before you as he licks those plump lips, pink from all the biting he’d inflicted on them.

You knew Dean liked to dirty talk, you’d heard it through the thin motel walls but when it was directed towards you it was on a new level of sexy.

“You got the keys?” You moan out as he starts kissing down your neck, dragging his teeth along a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

You cling to him harder feeling his hot breath against your skin, “yeah, course I do.” He smirks pulling back from your neck, keys dangling from his forefinger. 

“Of course you do, silly me.” You smile back, climbing out of his lap and curling your finger at him, “come get it Winchester.” 

Flicking your hair over your shoulder you make your way out of the bar, with more of a swing in your hips than usual, fully aware that Dean is hot on your heels. 

You shiver when the cool air hits your skin, it’s colder outside than it has been in weeks. You can feel Dean’s eyes on you as you walk, coming to a stop at the side of the impala you feel Dean pressing up against your back. Pushing your hair over one shoulder as he presses you into the car, so that you’re able to feel his hardness against your ass. 

“Would you let me fuck you right here?” He asks knowingly, breath ghosting over your ear and his fingers slip beneath your t-shirt, running along the soft skin of your stomach. You swallow hard, failing to hide the needy whimper of his name that slips past your lips. “Of course you would, right here, right up against my baby.” There’s a pause and you feel his hand by your hip as he slips the key into the lock.

“Maybe next time, hmmm?” He chuckles backing away as he pops the door open.

The throbbing between your thighs is almost painful and when he pulls away you suck in a deep breath when the burning in your stomach returns. You still have no idea what it is, but you can’t find it in you to think about it too much. And judging by the pained grunt from the other side of the car Dean’s felt whatever it is too.

“See, the teasing isn’t so funny now is it?” 

You slip into the front seat beside Dean, your doors closing almost at the same time. Pressing yourself against him your hand starts slowly moving higher up his thigh and you see him smirk as he starts the engine. 

“Fuck sweetheart, what’re you up to?” He groans as you unbuckle his belt and pop the button of his jeans. You bite your bottom lip watching his zip slide down when his cock jumps in the suddenly not so tight confines.

Dean lifts his hips as you tug on his jeans and boxers enough to free his perfect long thick cock. You’re almost drooling at the thought of having him in your mouth, finally. No surprise it’s one of the best looking cocks you’ve ever seen, the swollen head already leaking with pre-cum.

“How about you keep your eyes on the road, Winchester, let me worry about looking after you,” you practically purr, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

He groans deep in his chest watching you stretch out across the bench seat, back arched, with your head down and ass up as he pulls out of the parking lot. Wrapping your small hand around the thickness of his cock, the tips of your fingers just barely touching the tip of your thumb. 

You look up at him through your lashes as you lean in closer, swirling the tip of your tongue around the swollen head of his cock, moving over the very tip and moaning as the taste of his pre-cum hits your tongue. Dean’s free hand moves to the back of your head, fingers winding into your hair as he glances down at you. 

“Come on baby girl, open up,” he smirks, licking those plump lips that you dream about.

Dean sucks in a breath as you do as you're told and his fingers tighten in your hair. You hollow your cheeks as you suck at the head of his cock, which feels even thicker than it looks and tastes so good. 

He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs open a little further when you finally take more of his thick length into your mouth. The heat in your stomach starts to ebb away and you let out a relieved sigh, breathing a little slower through your nose as your tongue presses against the thick vein that runs along the entire length.

Your lips stretch wide when he presses against the back of your head, a loud growl leaving his lips when your hand cups his balls and his hips jolt up off of the seat. Pushing the thick head of his cock into the back of your throat, making you cough around the moan as the drool leaks from the sides of your lips. Your free hand moves to his thigh, nails digging in as you grip tightly.

“Fuck, look at you. Takin’ that cock so good, sweetheart. Such a pretty little mouth,” Dean rasps as the car swerves around a corner. 

You start to bob your head over him, swallowing around his cock when it hits the back of your throat again. You can hear Dean’s breathing increase as your movements do. His fingers tighten further in your hair and he roughly pulls your head up, you gasp for air when his cock falls from your lips. 

In fact, you hadn’t even realised that the car had stopped until both of his big hands cup your cheeks and he pulls you into a demanding kiss. Your hands move to his shoulders, slipping beneath his jacket and helping him pull it free of his arms.

While Dean’s hands move to your hips, unbuttoning your jeans, hooking his thumbs into the sides of them and panties. He pulls away from your lips when you sit up on your knees and roughly pulls them down your legs. You sit back on your ass laughing a little as you stumble. Dean just smirks at you as he pulls them free of your legs and tosses them behind him. 

“Wanna take this to the back seat, handsome?” You grin watching his eyes rake over your body. You wiggle out from under him and climb into the back seat.

You lay out on the back seat and pull off your shirt and bra, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. He licks his lips as he finishes undressing himself. 

“Looks like Sammy’s gettin’ lucky himself. Probably a good idea we kept this in baby, huh?” He smirks pulling his black shirt over his head. You shift a little, letting your feet rest on the soft leather so that Dean can climb into the back with you.

“C’mon, scoot back and spread those legs for me,baby.” 

You do as he says, the light from the motel and the moonlight shining through the impalas window, so that you can see that little boyish twinkle in his eyes when he presses his lips to your inner thigh. He’s still smiling when his eyes meet yours again. 

“Somehow, this was always how imagined our first time was gonna go.” You tell him a little shyly with a smile.

“Really? So you’ve thought about it then?” he chuckles kissing his way closer and closer to where you want him the most. 

You can’t help but smile at the look on his face, your fingers pushing into his hair when he moves lower, pulling your legs over his shoulders and his breath ghosts over your hot, wet pussy.

“Of course I have, you dork. You’re seriously annoying but you’re still my best friend. There’s always been that what if there, I’ve seen you looking,” you giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows at you and presses a kiss to your hip bone. His tongue sliding slowly across your skin until he reaches the other hip and he nips at the skin lightly. 

“Mmm, you have, have you? Well sweetheart, you can hardly blame me for lookin’.” 

The words are barely out of his mouth before his tongue moves through your slick, your back arches trying to press yourself closer to his mouth. He looks up at you from between your legs, slowly swirling the tip of his tongue around your extremely sensitive clit. Your whimper turns into a loud moan, feeling your pussy stretch around two of his thick fingers. 

“Dean, please.” 

The heels of your feet dig into the top of his back harder. The deeper his fingers push the more of him you want. 

“Fuck, that looks good,” Dean groans before sucking your clit between his lips. 

You watch his eyes fall closed and his fingers start moving faster inside of you, his free hand presses against your stomach keeping you in place as he fucks you with his fingers, curling them in a come hither motion. You can feel the band inside your stomach ready to snap but it’s like your body can’t let it go, you can feel the bliss climbing higher and higher with every swirl of his tongue and every curl of his fingers.

The wet sound of his fingers moving inside you starts to fill the car and Dean pulls his face up to watch you fall apart.

“God Dean, please! I need it,” you beg him desperately, rolling your hips down into his hand.

“You’ll get it sweetheart, relax. I’ve got you,” he assures you with that deep husky voice, that sends chills down your spine. You do as he says, taking a deep breath, allowing yourself to really feel everything. 

“Fuck, there you go baby girl. Let it go.”

You gasp loudly, feeling your orgasm hit you as if from nowhere. Your fingers grip tight in his ridiculously soft hair as your other hand clings to the back of the bench seat. The orgasm rolls through your body like fire licking at your skin. His fingers continue to work you through it, prolonging your orgasm that much further until you're panting for breath and gently pushing on his head. The sensitivity is a little too much, even more so when the vibrations of his chuckle moves through you.

He pulls back with a smug grin on his face when your body slumps against the seat.

“Jesus Christ, if you’re that good with your hands and your mouth-” 

He cuts you off pressing his lips to yours, “stop it, you’re gonna give me an even bigger head.” Dean smirks wiggling his eyebrows at you, making you laugh all over again.

“Have I mentioned that you’re a massive dork, Dean Winchester?” you smile up at him as he moves between your legs.

“Oh baby, when you stop lovin’ it, you just go ahead and let me know.” 

“So fucking cocky,” you groan as he presses his lips to your jaw and the head of his cock nudges against your soaked pussy.

You wrap your arms around his neck as his lips press against your ear, “you’ll see. I’ve got every right to be, sweetheart.” His teeth drag along your earlobe as he starts to slowly push the head of his cock inside you. Your nails dig into his back as you cling to him. 

“Gotta go slow, don’t wanna split this tight little pussy in two. Want you to feel it, every fuckin’ inch.” 

“Such a dirty mouth on you, Dean!” You gasp when he lifts your leg and rests it over the back of the front bench seat. So that you're spread open for him, his fingers move over your clit slowly as he continues to push inside your wet heat. “So fucking deep, shit you’re so big!” You cry out, once his hips are flush with your own.

The clunk of your head falling back against the door is the only noise that isn’t one of you breathing heavily.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck.

One of his hands cups the back of your head and he pulls you into another searing kiss, that momentarily distracts you from the sting of his thick cock stretching out your pussy. When he pulls back from your lips,you know you need more, “move Dean, please.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Dean grunts, slowly pulling out until only the head of his cock is pressing into you. The moonlight shines through the window as he pushes back into you slowly, both of you moaning loudly, sounding like a pair of porn stars but it feels so fucking good you can’t help it. He kisses you when he pulls almost all of the way out again and instead this time he snaps his hips forward. You can’t help but whimper into his mouth, pleasure mixing with pain so perfectly as your calf tightens on the front bench seat to keep you anchored, you feel Dean’s fingers move to grip your thigh on the same leg.

Your free leg pushes over his hip, your foot pressing into his ass harder as every thrust of his hips gets faster. The heat in your stomach has disappeared and all you can feel is the returning warmth of another orgasm building inside you. 

“Dean, talk to me please,” you whisper breathlessly against his lips, every thrust of his hips is hitting spots inside you that you didn’t realise existed before tonight. 

“Shit, sorry darlin’, you just feel so fuckin’ good.” He half laughs, which quickly turns into a moan when he sits up on his knees and pulls you closer, propping your other leg up on the top of the back seat. Somehow he’s even deeper like this, with you spread open wide for him. 

“Wanna come all over your big cock baby,” you pant biting into your lip as he grips your hips and lifts you a little and with every thrust he pulls you onto his cock. The slap of your ass against his thighs echoes around the car, along with your mixed moans and groans of pleasure.

“Yeah? Come on then. Wanna see how much better it feels when that tight little cunt grips my cock,” Dean grunts, every harsh thrust punching a gasp of air from your chest.

“Oh! Oh fuck!..... Dean!” You all but scream, feeling your pussy starting to clamp down around his length and your thighs starting to shake. 

“Give it to me Y/N! Come on baby!” Dean encourages you breathlessly, moaning praises until you finally fall over the edge with a scream of his name. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as your muscles clench and tighten painfully.

When you finally start to come down you feel Dean wrap his arms around your back and pull you up so you’re sitting in his lap, with your legs wrapped around his back. His eyes meet yours when you lick your lips and quickly press them against his, feeling his groan before you hear it when you roll your hips over him.

“You’re somethin’ else,” Dean tells you, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands move to grip your ass as you start to rise and fall on his cock. “Fuck, yeah that’s it baby, just like that. Gonna fill you up.” Dean growls, helping you move, your open mouths pressed against one another. Neither of you are able to kiss, everything feels so damn good.

“Do it Dean, want your come,” you moan out into his mouth, feeling his hips stutter beneath you. You know he’s close, “can’t wait to get you back to the bunker, just imagine all the fun we’re gonna have.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Dean groans through gritted teeth.

Your voice is just a breathy whisper at this point but you know he can hear you.

“Imagine how many tables you can bend me over, or how many beds we can mess up together. Maybe when we get in the motel you can fuck me in the shower, make me take it like a good little girl. Nobody's made me come like you do Dean, maybe I can show you just how good my mouth can be, take you so deep let you fuck my mouth….” The rest of your words die on your tongue when Dean slams his hips up into you roughly, before groaning your name and coming inside you hot and thick.

His mouth quickly covers yours as he twists you rolling onto his back so you’re on top as his chest rises and falls fast. You pull away from his lips with a satisfied smirk on your lips.

“Fuck Y/N, I thought I had a damn good dirty talkin’ game. And yes, all of that is happening.” 

You giggle and shake your head at him falling against his chest, letting his racing heart press against your ear.

However, before either of you can get too comfortable there’s a knock on the window. Dean dives for his gun but you catch his hand with a shake of your head.

“Dean calm down, since when do monsters knock?” you reason quietly.

Dean seems to accept your answer, letting the hand that’s now holding the gun relax. You don’t move to answer the door, you simply lean forward in the seat and pull on his black t-shirt just in case.

“Yeah, that looks so much better on you.” 

“Stop it!” You laugh gently slapping his hands away, rolling your eyes when they settle on your ass again.

“Y/N? Where’s Dean?” Comes the sound of Sam’s voice through the fogged up window.

Biting your lip you look down at the man trapped beneath you, big green eyes staring up at you as he smiles.

“Right here, Sammy!” Dean calls out, making you laugh when you hear Sam’s overreacted gagging noises from the other side of the glass.

“Do you want something? Or have you taken up dogging or some weird shit!”

“Oh ha ha, very funny. No, we want something, turns out the two of you were cursed by that Ash girl back at the bar. But don’t worry, Molly and I took care of it while you two were working it out.” Sam deadpans.

“Huh, who knew?” You giggle as Dean pulls you back down on top of him.

“Best damn curse I’ve ever been hit with,” Dean winks.

“Thank you, Sam!” You call out hearing a mumbled you’re welcome as Dean pulls you into another incredible mind scrambling kiss.

Tags: @chewie-redbird @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @desireepow-1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog​ @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007​ @mylovelydame21​ @sunshineandwings86 @akshi8278​ @peaches009​ @captain-shannon-becker​ @heimdoodle​ @plushpyrate​ @winchester-wifey​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @flamencodiva​ @hobby27​ @akshi8278​ @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @maddiepants​ @spnfanfic-reblogs​ @holylulusworld​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @sonofabringmesomepie​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @hhiggs​ @pisces-cutie​ @trina44sb @heartsaved​ @matsumama​ @adoptdontshoppets​

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[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (12/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11]

A few minutes before closing time the next day, Clarke was waiting at the end of the counter for surprise customers. Gaia was already wrapping her scarf around her neck and Wells was pulling out ingredients for the next day. He had stayed much later today, going over resumes for their interviews tomorrow, but also reorganizing the kitchen.

After giving Gustus a call to offer him the job, Wells had realized that things would get crowded quite quickly. Gustus was a big man and the kitchen was on the smaller side, but it was workable with a different layout. Clarke thanked her lucky stars for her best friend's ability to adapt to situations, as she herself disliked big changes. Regardless of the possible growing pains ahead, it was an exciting time for the café.

Right after Gaia left with a tired wave, Wells found Clarke absentmindedly drawing the branches of the weeping fig. The last customers had left as well and the sun had already set. The mugs were clean, the plates drying, and the day's crumbs swept from the floor. It hadn't rained at all today; a small mercy given that Clarke couldn't stop thinking about her date with Lexa. She wasn't sure where they were headed, but heavy rain might've halted Lexa's plans and she didn't have the patience to wait another day.

Wells peeked at her drawing pad and sighed. "God, she's a beauty," he said dreamily.

Clarke snorted. His fondness for their Ficus was a running joke between them. "Weirdo."

Wells gave her a tired grin as he buttoned up his wool peacoat. He always looked so sharp in winter wear, whereas Clarke always felt like a bulky bear. She'd dressed up a little today - fitted dark pants and a knitted sweater with a nice scoop neck. Her boots were clean and if her hair's curls had loosened over the day, she had still clearly made an effort to look presentable.

“So, you had your vision," said Wells.

Clarke dropped her pencil. "Wh- I- what?"

"It was a few weeks ago, wasn't it? When you came in looking like you hadn’t slept a wink."

Shame gripped her. "Wells, I-"

“You’re looking more crimson than cranberry juice,” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up," she said. She'd always felt guilty for keeping it from him, but it wasn't the easiest topic either. "Did Raven tell you?"

"Nah, she even deflected when I wondered aloud. You just started acting weird whenever someone mentioned visions. You hate lying, so I figured you didn't want to be asked if you'd had one."

Clarke closed her notepad. She should have known he'd catch on. "I didn't mean to be secretive. You know I would've told you the minute it happened, it just wasn't… family friendly."

"Yeah, I figured. It's good though? I mean, you're happy, right?"

It was a surprising question, though it shouldn't have been. Clarke hadn't really thought about it. It wasn't something she asked herself or even expected. For so long happiness had just revolved around the café. Finding the right name; the right building; the right theme. She'd judged her days based on their achieved goals and for a while it had been a thrill. And it still was - her work made her proud and it made her happy too - but it wasn't everything. She'd come to face that recently, and though the wake up call had been… unconventional, certainly, she was grateful for it.

"I am. I'm seeing her, actually. The woman from my vision. You'd recognize her - she's a regular."

Wells nodded as if he'd already put two and two together. “At Octavia and Lincoln's party I saw you talking to her. Then it clicked she wrote that article on Finn - I remembered checking her profile on the Gazette when it dropped."

"Yeah, she works there. She's writing a piece on the visions actually."

"So it's getting serious?" He asked hesitantly.

And really, Clarke couldn't fault his curiosity. She'd been so wrapped up in Lexa that she'd neglected their relationship and now he was unsure if he should gently prod or wait.

“It’s new and we’re taking things slow, but yeah, I'm hoping it'll work out. I really like her."

Wells looked over her shoulder toward the entrance and smiled. "Seems like she really likes you too."

Clarke turned around and saw that Lexa had parked her car and was just crossing the street toward the café.

"Are you coming in tomorrow?" He asked her.

Clarke whipped around, her cheeks flushed. "What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno, you tell me." He laughed as he checked for his keys in his pocket. "Gaia and Harper have the early shift, in case you forgot. We just have those three interviews in the afternoon, but you already know that."

"I do know," she replied with a frown. "There's no reason I wouldn't be here earlier. I'm always here. What are you saying?"

He shrugged, entirely too proud of himself, and walked toward the back exit. "No one will fault you if you take a break. Enjoy your date!"

"I will! And I'll see you in the morning!" Clarke replied stubbornly.

"I'm sure you will!" he retorted, still snickering, before closing the door behind him.

A hand touched Clarke's shoulder and she startled.

"Sorry," Lexa said with a gentle smile. She'd put on her black coat today, the top buttons undone to reveal her sweater - a reddish brown this time, perfect for the fall. Her hair was down and her eyeliner perhaps more pronounced than usual. Clarke wondered if she'd applied it in her car. She looked beautiful.

"Hi, baby," she softened, forgetting all about Well's teasing. He didn't know what he was talking about. Tonight was just going to be a nice date. Some food, wine - whatever Lexa had planned. They were still going slow. Clarke didn't have any expectations other than enjoying their time together. She liked their pace. It was… frustrating at times, sure, but it was working. They had both opened up to each other.

"Hi," Lexa whispered before she inched forward so that she could kiss her over the counter. Clarke sighed into it, having imagined such sweetness all day long.

"Am I too early?" Lexa asked. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Clarke brushed her thumb over Lexa's jaw. "No, I'm done. I just need to grab my coat and close up."

"Was that Wells who went out back?"

"Yes, he was being ridiculous."

"I thought he usually left earlier?"

"He does, but he's been rearranging the kitchen. I think he's worried Gustus will find it too small."

"Gus has an entire farm and acres of land at his disposal, but he sleeps in his shed because it's warm," Lexa said. "He won't mind."

Clarke beamed, delighted to hear it. "I'm going to give you Wells' number and you're going to text him just that. "

While Clarke left to grab her coat, Lexa worried her lip. "Oh but he doesn't really know me…"

"He will."

Clarke came out from the back with her coat and scarf on. She pulled out her set of keys. "He's my best friend and you're my-" she stopped herself. "I think you'd get along great. He loves theater, devours literature, and he already thinks you're amazing for taking Finn down. So don't worry about it."

"Well, that reminds me: Collins went ahead with suing the Gazette."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

They made their way to the front, where Lexa opened the door for Clarke. "No. It'll never stand, but he aims to waste our time and money."

"Waste of time and money - that's been his motto since birth."

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Let's talk about something else."

"Please. So where's my carriage?"

Lexa laughed.

* * *

Lexa may not have found a pumpkin to turn into a carriage after all, but her car smelled like apples and she drove so smoothly Clarke could've closed her eyes and imagined they weren't moving at all. She had never thought 'great driver' would do it for her, but here she was eyeing Lexa's hands on the steering wheel and feeling hot.

"How's the writing going?" Clarke asked, clearing her throat when her voice started off slightly rough.

Lexa took a left, which would've surprised Clarke if she'd paid any attention to the road. But all she could think about was Lexa's razor-sharp focus and how she yearned to be the reason for it.

"Good, I finished a first draft. My writing partner is looking at it for now. I need it out of my sight for a few days."

"Partner, huh?"

Lexa smiled as she kept her eyes on the road. "Echo. She wrote most of the FC&B article."

"Did you write for other newspapers before?"

Lexa nodded. "Two. I've been lucky, professionally. Smaller papers have always been more interesting to me, so I stayed away from national ones. I was able to climb the ladder a lot faster than some of my old classmates."

"The Gazette must've been a change of pace. New city, new job - I don't think I could handle it."

"When they hired me I was so happy to be working I just threw myself into it," Lexa admitted. "I got the idea on the Mountain Men soon after, just from reading old archives about them. That kept me busy, so I didn't have time to worry about fitting in. It was nice. Exciting. It felt like falling in love with my job again. Then one day Echo invited me to grab drinks with other colleagues and… I realized things had fallen into place already."

"Costial is pretty magical like that," Clarke said with a smile. She loved it when Lexa talked about her time here. Sometimes it was easy to forget she hadn't even been here a year yet. Clarke remembered her first year in the city - how she'd felt like she'd always belonged here. How she couldn't wait to build her life here. And college had been fun, and sometimes she walked by the campus just for the nostalgia of it, but it was the years after that had really shaped her life into what it was today. There had been many tears and failures before the café, but she'd never once thought of leaving. She hoped Lexa felt the same.

One glance outside the window and Clarke finally had an idea where they were headed. They were quite far from the center of the city now, just a few miles away from Busy Moose Park and its lake on the outskirts. Lexa took the road that led to the park, but she didn't make the turn Clarke had expected and instead continued straight.

"Are we going to the factory?" Clarke asked.

The chocolate factory and its surroundings were certainly a sight to behold, and popular with teens because of its smells and aesthetic quality, but there wasn't much to do unless you brought a picnic. Which was unlikely to be comfortable anyway in this cold.

"Not quite," Lexa answered with a secretive smile.

A few minutes later she finally pulled over into a small parking lot, checking for Clarke's reaction as soon as they got out of the car.

“I know I said I’d take you somewhere more upscale, but I thought you might really like this place."

Because the factory was just a ways down the road and it was windy tonight, the bold smell of chocolate permeated the air. They had stopped in front of a rustic restaurant surrounded by a garden. Small lights glowed softly against the brick walls, complimented by the dancing shadows from a few lanterns. There was a patio with beams covered in twining vines, the plants and wisteria also covering the top like a ceiling. Powerful heaters kept the biting cold at bay, no doubt, making the entire place look like a winter fairytale.

It was the kind of romantic setting Clarke would have made fun of in front of friends while secretly hoping to experience it one day.

“How the hell have I never been here before?” She asked in astonishment.

With a hand on her back, Lexa led her toward the entrance.

“Did you know Icicle? Italian restaurant?”

“Yeah, that rings a bell.”

“This is it. The owner retired and her son took over - revamped the whole place from top to bottom and gave it a mountain lodge theme. He figured they should capitalize on the location more, especially the constant sweetness in the air. It just reopened a few weeks ago. Featured in the Gazette and everything.”

“Oh, that might’ve been when I was a bit angry at you," Clarke remembered and gave Lexa a teasing grin. "Deleted the app like it was some kind of statement."

Lexa scrunched up her nose, not too eager to remember that time. The hostess seated them inside at a secluded table for two. The light was dimmed and there was a candle between them; and even two squares of chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

After they took off their coats and sat, Lexa bit her lip. “It's not too much, is it?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." Clarke reached for her hand. "You're always surprising me."

A waiter gave them a menu and a basket of bread. They looked like mini baguettes and Clarke was temped to steal one for Wells.

“God, I almost forgot about this smell," she said, taking a deep breath. The chocolate from the factory still wafted faintly in the air, and mixed with the smell of food it had Clarke already salivating for dinner. "In college we used to hang out by the lake a lot. If the wind was on our side we’d always get a whiff from the factory. Not even edibles could beat that.”

Lexa arched a brow. “Edibles, huh?”

“Please, I know you’ve dabbled," Clarke scoffed.

“What makes you think that?”

“You have the vibe.”

“The pothead vibe? I thought I was unreadable.”

“Oh you have that vibe too," Clarke laughed. "But then there’s the tattoos, the plants, the way you write about nature. You’re curious, open minded, andyou went to a liberal arts college. You must’ve tried it at least once. I think that’s how you approach most things: don’t knock ‘till you try it. Am I close?”

Lexa looked away, slightly flummoxed. “It sounds like I’m more of an open book then.”

"Maybe that's a good thing…" Clarke offered with a hopeful smile, thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"Maybe it is," Lexa agreed.

They both picked the apricot glazed chicken with roasted potatoes, pairing it with a white wine. Throughout dinner Clarke felt such pleasant warmth, both because of the wine and Lexa's steady gaze on her. She was relaxed and unfairly charming; a great listener by all accounts, but also coming out of her shell when it came to her own past. Clarke knew it wasn't easy for her, which made it all the more special.

"In retrospect I should've figured politics weren’t for me when I started screaming at my television every time the news came on."

Clarke grinned, knowing the sentiment all too well. "Good thing you don't work for a newspaper or anything…"

Swallowing the last of her wine, Lexa gave her a playful smirk. "Local news. I can take the city hall drama. I actually enjoy it with my morning pastry."

"That I can believe. You always look so deep in thought when you read. Harper dropped a cup once and you didn't even flinch."

"Really?" Lexa asked. "Is there anything else I do that I should know about?"

The waiter stopped by with their desserts: molten chocolate cake for Lexa and a slice of pear tart for Clarke.

"It's not like I stare or anything," Clarke clarified as she grabbed her spoon. "Your seat just happens to be in my vicinity."

"Mm." Lexa smirked. "I guess I just pop up sometimes…" she trailed off, her tone heavy with implication.

She did this occasionally, but more boldly recently. Alluding to Clarke's vision seemed to greatly entertain Lexa.

"Ha, you're funny," Clarke deadpanned.

"Did I also crack jokes while I was kissing you - and I quote - everywhere?" Lexa goaded.

Clarke shrugged as she chewed on her tart. "Actually you were a lot more suave than you are now. Pity."

Lexa laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Please, you're very proud of yourself. And it's not fair all I have to go on is your distaste for coffee." Clarke remembered how frantic she had been after her vision, her mind firing questions every second. “Did you know I went to a vision reader right after?”

It had been an impulse and she'd regretted it, but she figured Lexa was familiar with them.

"Really?" Lexa asked, surprised.

“Yeah, the one by the market. Becca’s Reading or something. I bailed at the last minute.”

“I actually haven’t spoken to one. I was toying with the idea, but it might be an entirely different article.”

Clarke grimaced. “They’re just opportunistic money grabbers.”

Lexa offered a spoonful of her cake, which Clarke took before plopping a bit of pear on top of it. The warm chocolate melted the pear in her mouth and she sighed at the taste. Lexa smiled.

“It’s a different point of view. Besides, listening to so many stories might’ve given them some valuable insight even if they opened a shop for the wrong reasons. If my job’s taught me anything it’s to not judge a book by its cover.”

"Hmm you're good at it - your job. And I'm not just saying that because you're wining and dining me."

Lexa looked bashful. "You know, I remember when you yelled at me to get over myself."

"Not our finest moment…"

"No," Lexa agreed. "But it was needed. Before that there was so much I wanted to tell you, but… couldn't."

"I know." Clarke remembered that feeling as well. After the vision she'd look at Lexa and be so certain there was so much left unsaid between them, yet neither of them knew where to start, or if it was reciprocated. "I should've let you interview me - just ripped off the Band-Aid. It would've explained a lot."

"I would've never made it past the first question," Lexa said. "Can you share what you saw, Clarke?"

Clarke smiled cheekily around a mouthful of her tart. "Well, I would hope that kind of confession would score me a date at least."

"Oh I would have asked you out on the spot," Lexa replied with a smirk.

Clarke gasped. "How very unprofessional of you."

"If you hadn't noticed, my professionalism hangs by a thread whenever I'm near you."

Clarke let out a small laugh. "Well, that's one thing I'm glad for."

* * *

After their dinner, Lexa suggested they walk in the park before it closed. It was cold but their coats were thick and the wind was minimal. Clarke had no desire to part just yet, and so took Lexa's hand in hers as soon as they left the car by the park's entrance.

They had a little less than thirty minutes before it closed, but enjoyed every second as they strolled by the lake. The half-moon was reflected on the quiet surface, and though there were a few other people, Clarke felt like they had just stepped into a world of their own.

Clarke nudged Lexa toward one of the Beech trees, its autumn leaves still clinging bravely to its thick branches. They settled beneath it, lying down on the soft ground where leaves piled atop the grass. Between the branches they could see some stars, and Clarke wondered if maybe the park could close and leave them be. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She heard some rustling and then saw Lexa look down at her, her face framed by her wavy hair and the stars above. She took Clarke's breath away.

"You're so beautiful," Lexa murmured, struck by a similar thought it seemed. "You have the kindest eyes and the warmest smile. It's the first thing I ever noticed about you."

Clarke reached up to kiss her, parting only when she felt Lexa's hand on her stomach. Even atop her coat and thick clothing, she could feel its warmth.

"I think you're drunk on wine and chocolate."

"Then you'll be relived to hear I'm a very sincere drunk."

Clarke giggled, which made Lexa's smile stretch in such a fond way. She pressed closer to her, the tip of her nose brushing against her neck. She kissed the small spot, as if to apologize for her cold nose.

"I wonder so much about you, Clarke."

Clarke hummed. "What do you wonder about?"

“I’ve spoken with a lot of people. Heard the visions about reuniting with loved ones, getting over addictions, graduating. There’s been some romance of course,” Lexa said. “Aden’s first kiss, though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face. Echo celebrating a wedding anniversary with her husband. But so few - even online in anonymous circles - so few like yours.”

Now Clarke felt warm again, mostly from the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t believe that.”

Lexa lifted her head from her shoulder. “Have you personally heard of any?”

“Raven saw Wells naked.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Okay, so I'm a pervert, what can I say?”

“No,” Lexa replied, tickled by Clarke's little huff. “You’re a mystery. You intrigue me.”

Clarke cleared her throat. “Well I’ve had a bit of a dry spell. I had flings, but… I didn't allow myself anything more. The café was taking up all my thoughts and for a while it worked for me. Then the days got long again, and lonelier… Raven said it was probably just my body wanting me to snap out of it.”

“And what do you think?”

Clarke did wonder about it then, or at least differently than she had in the past. It wasn't so long ago she'd asked these questions herself. She'd been so frustrated she couldn't discuss them with the person she'd shared it with, and here she was, lying right next to her in a bed of leaves.

She touched Lexa's hand on her stomach, lacing and unlacing their fingers, gently playing with them as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Have you never fantasized about a stranger?" She asked quietly, catching Lexa's eyes. "Someone who knows nothing about you and yet knows exactly how to make your body soar?"

“That’s not what you saw though, is it?” Lexa murmured. “I wasn’t a stranger in your bed. I knew you and you knew me."

Clarke felt her heart beat faster. She wanted so badly to kiss Lexa again; to feel her body against hers like the night on her couch.

"Lex…"

Their lips were just a hair's breadth apart now. To anyone else, they would've looked like they were kissing.

"How was it different, Clarke?"

Clarke swallowed, trying to find the words. “How? The way you handled me - needy and possessive, but tender and attentive too. Like you were in charge of my pleasure and you had to remind me."

She saw Lexa swallow and so continued, eager to share everything this time: "You said my name and it almost sounded like a prayer - like you couldn’t believe we were together. I never heard my name like that before. I never thought I could make someone feel lucky."

"God, Clarke, you have no idea." Lexa exhaled before closing the gap and kissing her. It wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared tonight. It felt like a promise, almost. Lexa tasted so sweet on her tongue and Clarke could only wonder if all of her was just as heavenly.

She cupped the back of her neck and felt herself throb with desire, her mind filled with both the reality of Lexa and the last of her vision.

"I can even remember the smell of us," Clarke sighed between kisses. "How sticky my skin felt, like we'd been in bed for hours."

"Clarke - fuck."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back and cupped her cheeks, claiming her lips quite quickly again. She licked into her mouth and moaned at the silky feel of Lexa's tongue.

"Sometimes I'd try to picture us again but you'd disappear," Clarke continued, eyes closing when Lexa started kissing down her neck. "I wasn't sure if it was you anymore. But then you'd come back. I'd feel your hands, your mouth on me… lower, and lower…"

Lexa let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose before falling back on the ground, the leaves rustling beneath her. Something in the way she set her jaw made Clarke frown.

"Baby…" she said, tracing a finger over her cheekbone.

"Did you call her that?" Lexa asked without thinking.

Clarke retracted her hand and paused. A grin spread on her face. “What? Are you jealous… of yourself?”

Lexa glared petulantly. “No.”

“You are."

Lexa remained quiet, so after a moment Clarke poked her arm. “Well what about yours?”

"Mine?"

"I wasn't even in it - how do you think that makes me feel?"

Lexa shook her head. "You were in it."

"You said you were just standing in a random kitchen making coffee."

"Yes."

"So?"

They heard the echo of a bicycle's bell on the pathway and turned to the sound, but the couple soon rode away. Clarke looked at Lexa again, finding her staring at the sky.

“What are you keeping from me?”

A small smile grew on Lexa's face - but she remained tightlipped.

"How was I there?" Clarke asked again, deeply curious.

"The doodles," Lexa simply replied.

Clarke remembered that she'd found that to be a strange detail before. She didn't put up her doodles on walls and she didn't frame them. These had to be important. Something that made her identity unmistakable in Lexa's eyes. Sure it could be that her style was recognizable, but Lexa made it sound as if it was something else.

“Lex…"

She lifted Lexa's chin to catch her gaze.

“If I tell you, I worry it might not happen," Lexa admitted.

Clarke bit her lip, finally understanding. It was almost like saying a wish out loud - fearing it might not come true if you broke that single rule.

“You want it to happen?” She asked instead.

A breeze passed as Lexa looked at her intently, leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”

There was no waver in her voice. Not even an ounce of hesitation. The sheer confidence set Clarke alight. She’d forgotten how it felt to feel so wanted. Whatever it was in that frame… Lexa clearly hoped for it in their future. The fact that she wanted it with her, and no one else, made her desire swell.

She leaned down and kissed her right against the grass and by the slumbering tree, forgetting all about the doodles. Lexa believed it was her - that was all that mattered. After weeks of being unsure of where they stood, if her feelings were even shared, she didn't need anything more.

Lexa wound her arm around her waist, her mouth still as hungry against Clarke's. When they pulled away, she pressed their foreheads together.

“I wish I could see us like you did," she murmured wistfully.

"What would it change?"

“Maybe… maybe if I knew I was good enough for you… If I was sure that I wouldn’t- that I wouldn’t hurt you-"

Clarke shook her head. "Don’t fill your head with thoughts like that. Let's just be here, together, and worry about the rest when it comes. I know it's hard for you, but this - us - right now… it's good, isn't it?"

Lexa nodded. "It's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Relieved, Clarke tucked her head beneath Lexa's chin. "Then just be with me. You can be happy, baby. You have a right to it. Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise."

Eventually they made their way back to Lexa's car, neither of them interested in picking up their leisurely pace.

"I'm sorry we ended up walking so much," Lexa said.

"You fed me beforehand, so it's forgiven."

Lexa smiled. "Good to know."

Before they reached the parking lot, Clarke decided to ask what had been on her mind: "I know you said Costial feels like home to you; that you found your place here, but… do you see your future here? Because this is it for me. And I'm… I like you, Lex. I like you a lot. I don't want to be an interlude. I don't think I could take it."

"Clarke," Lexa stepped closer to her. "You're not an interlude, you're - God, you've been in every act of my life here. I don't want to go anywhere. I- I want to be with you. That's what I know for certain. Is that alright for now?"

"It is."

Lexa kissed her softly and then smirked. "I may not have had erotic visions of myself entwined with a hot local, but I still want to stay here."

Clarke shoved her playfully. "I don't even like you anymore."

They laughed the whole way to the car.

* * *

It seemed like a tradition already; Lexa walking her to her door while Clarke racked her mind for a way to linger. When they finally arrived she leaned against her door and sighed.

"Tonight was amazing."

Lexa hummed. "I'm glad."

"I'm definitely taking you out this weekend," Clarke said.

"You are?" Lexa asked, tilting her head to kiss her again.

Clarke closed the gap as she wrapped her arms around her neck. The kiss was slow; amatory, but as always it could not go on for too long before hands wandered.

"I hope you have sweet dreams," Lexa said, her eyes hooded and her lips slightly redder.

"Oh I will."

Lexa glanced at her mouth. "If I pay you a visit again maybe you could keep a journal close by. I'd love some notes on my performance."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I ever told you?"

"What? That we lasted hours?" Lexa husked.

Right. Clarke narrowed her eyes and let her hands slowly drag down Lexa's arms. Now, Clarke wasn't innocent. She knew fully what made her look good, even when her coat was buttoned up. She had let Lexa tease her and goad her about the vision all night, and she had kept her retort to herself. But no more.

She pressed her body closer to Lexa's, unmistakably provocative with the way their breasts touched.

“Make fun all you want, Lexa, but remember this: I’ve seen all of you while you haven’t seen an inch of me.” She felt Lexa’s hand tighten on her waist. “I’ve felt your body against mine. Your mouth on my thighs. I’ve felt your tongue inside me.” She glanced down at Lexa's lips and then back up, proud of the gobsmacked look on her face. “So you can tease me. You can push my buttons. I can take it. But you? You only have your imagination." She stepped back and gave her sultriest smile, "And trust me, it’s got nothing on reality.”

She turned around and quickly unlocked her door, then looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for the date, baby."

As soon as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, Clarke knew she'd just played a dirty hand. But Lexa had teased her at all night and all was fair in lust.

With a wicked grin, too pleased by the night's events, Clarke took off her coat and slipped out of her shoes and socks. And because she just couldn't resist one last look, she walked to her window and waited. Finally she saw Lexa walk out of the building. She seemed unfocused, going right and then left, forgetting where she'd parked.

But then she stopped and turned around.

Clarke's smile fell. Just watching Lexa like this, seeing the effect she had on her… it changed something. She had closed the door in the spur of the moment - because they were good at testing each other. Because she had thought tonight should end there, on another game of theirs.

But she didn’t want to play anymore.

And maybe Lexa realized it too. She looked up and found her apartment's window.

Their eyes met.

Clarke reached out for the curtain, gripping it so tight her knuckles went white. She couldn't look away from those eyes in the moonlight if she tried. Even if the ground started shaking beneath their feet.

"Lexa-" she started before stopping herself. It had to be Lexa's decision. Clarke had already made hers. She couldn't call out to her. Not for this. Lexa had to choose.

Clarke held her breath, unsure she'd even be able to leave this spot if Lexa did walk away after all. Until-

Lexa bolted back toward the building.

Clarke watched her disappear from view and then heard her intercom. She rushed toward it and pressed the buzzer, her heart in her throat. Still barefoot, she pulled the door open and waited. Footsteps thundered up the flights of stairs, closer and closer.

Tonight had not ended. Not yet.

[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 83-87

Last time, the Red Stone of Aja got mailed out to the bad guys, so Joseph and Caesar have gone to shake down the Venice Post Office.   Notably, Joseph wears a hat and coat similar to the one he’s rocking in Part 3.

Turns out, the package is already on its way to St. Moritz, Switzerland.   Messina knows this because... okay, try to follow this.   So Esidisi hijacked Suzie Q’s body to mail the Stone.   So she probably wasn’t even aware of what she was being forced to do, but Lisa Lisa used Ripple Hypnosis on her to retrieve the address.   You’d think she would have told the boys about this ability before they ran over to the post office, but maybe they left before she could say anything.

Meanwhile, this dog’s about to get run over, but this is Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, so what else is new.   Araki’s hatred for comic book dogs is the stuff of legend.

OR IS IT?   Yeah, take a good long look, because this is the only time Araki saves a dog in JJBA.    Apparently, Kars is a sucker for innocent plants and animals, go figure.  

I don’t know what else to tell you, except Battle Tendency = Best JoJo Part.  

As for Joseph, he and the others go to Switzerland, only to get held up by Nazis at the border.  Turns out, their mysterious commander knows all about the Red Stone of Aja, the Pillar Men, and Joseph and Caesar’s Ripple training.   That guy who tried to rob Lisa Lisa a while back?  He was a Nazi spy the whole time.   So now they have the Stone, and they want to cooperate with Joseph’s group.   Lisa goes along with it, because it’s better than letting Kars find the stone.

For some reason, Araki pauses to discuss Nazi Germany a bit, except he has all these historical events from March and September of 1939.   I’m not entirely clear on the chronology of Part 2, except that the final battle with Kars takes place in February of 1939, so none of these things have happened yet.  

But the point still stands.    Hitler wants Nazi Germany to rise above mankind, just as Kars seeks his own kind of supremacy.   And like Kars, the Nazis are interested in the Red Stone of Aja as a possible path to greater power.  

Everybody spends the night at some Swiss inn, until Kars shows up and uses his hyper-senses to detect how many men are in their room.   Then he slashes through the wall with that blade he sprouts out of his forearm, killing them all with one attack.   

Except for their commander, who has the Stone.   Kars is confused, because he sensed the number and location of everyone in the room, but somehow he missed this last guy, because he’s got no body heat.  

And Joseph barges in just in time to find out that this dude is Stroheim, the Nazi officer who blew himself up to stop Santana.  Somehow he’s alive, and also a cyborg, which is why Kars couldn’t detect him.  

Kars only wants two things: To capture the Aja Stone, and to kill Joseph Joestar.    He says that he can’t afford to spare a Ripple User powerful enough to slay Esidisi, but Joseph wonders if Kars is motivated by a desire to avenge his comrade, rather than any sort of cold tactics.    Wammu had called dibs on fighting Jojo, but he’s in Greece at the moment, and Kars is in no mood to wait.   

But Stroheim insists on tackling Kars himself, as his cyborg body was specifically designed using the information gleaned from studying Santana.   He’s strong enough to rip out pieces of Kars’ flesh, and he’s armed with a big-ass machine gun.  He tells Joseph not to pity him, because he’s proud to become this living tribute to German technology.  

What I want to know is: How did Stroheim survive Mexico without Joseph knowing about it?  He was there when that grenade went off, after all.   Maybe Stroheim landed some distance away, where Joseph wouldn’t have thought to look for him.    But how did Stroheim’s men find him?  

Anyway, Kars is not impressed, and he cuts Stroheim in half with his “light mode”, which is just the blades in his arms.   They seem to glow, but it’s actually just reflected light from the complex patterns in the blades.   From the sidelines, Joseph is unnerved by Kars’ ability, because he doubts that he could block or avoid those blades, even with the full power of his Hamon energy.   

As for Stroheim, he had no idea that Kars could do anything like this.   I don’t know, are arm-blades really that big a deal?   Wammu’s powers seem a lot cooler, and Esidisi’s “flame mode” looks pretty scary, even if it only melts stuff.   Still, it’s enough to beat Stroheim.    Kars mocks him for thinking that he and Santana were on the same level.   Kars considered Santanta a “novice”, like a “weak puppy.”   That’s an interesting choice of words, since we just saw Kars save the life of a weak puppy earilier.   Maybe that same pity was the only reason Kars kept Santana around in the first place.      As dangerous as Santana was, Kars considers him utterly useless.   

He even refers to Santana as “it.”  Maybe that’s just a mistake in this scanlation, but I dunno.   He’d probably use “it” to refer to that puppy he saved too.   And maybe this contempt explains why Kars refers to him as “Santana”, the name Stroheim gave the guy.   I always wondered why Kars didn’t use Santana’s real name, but maybe Santana never had one.  

But Stroheim’s not done just yet.   He has a UV beam built into his eyepiece, which stuns Kars long enough to make him drop the stone, and then it slides over a cliff.

Joseph and Kars race after it, but Kars is faster, because he doesn’t have to worry about slowing down before he goes over the edge.    He can survive the fall, while Joseph can’t.   So Kars figures that Joseph will try to kick him, and Joseph does throw a kick... at the snow, to distract Kars long enough for Joseph to get the Stone back.

But Kars has  blades in his legs too, and he uses one to snag Joseph and pull him over the edge of the cliff.   Joseph manages to use Hamon to grab hold of some icicles to stop his fall, but he still has to deal with Kars’ unstoppable blades, and his relentlessness.   Joseph’s whole deal is that he outsmarts his opponents by exploiting their inattentiveness.   But Kars is laser focused on getting the Aja Stone, so it’s almost impossible to catch him off-guard.

So Joseph uses that tenacity against him by holding up the Stone in the path of Kars’ attacks.   Kars wants to kill Joseph, but he doesn’t dare use his blades near the Stone.  Remember, Kars’ plan requires that specific Aja Stone because it’s the only one big enough and flawless enough to power his “Ultimate Life Form” mask.   If he damages the Stone, it won’t be suitable for his needs.   Knowing this, Joseph kicks him down the rest of the way, while he heads back up a “rope” made of Ripple-connected icicles.

Said icicles were provided by Caesar, who expected Joseph to try something like this, because he’s already learned that Joseph thinks in terms of ropes and strings.   Stroheim is astonished by their flawless teamwork.  

Below, Kars goes out of his way to adjust his fall so as not to crush a flower.   He laughs at this latest setback, because he’s just that impressed with Joseph’s resourcefulness.   Then he withdraws to try again another day.  

This whole arc surprised me when I watched the anime, because it seemed like Kars would be the final boss of Battle Tendency, but here he was fighting Joseph early.   And it wasn’t exactly an all-out fight.    They had a little footrace and Joseph used the Aja Stone to keep Kars at bay, but not much more than that.   Considering all the crazy stuff we saw from Esidisi, you’d think Kars would be much more dangerous. 

But that’s just it.    Esidisi was extremely formidable, and Joseph destroyed him with his Hamon training.    Kars lost 33% of his team in a single stroke.    All he has left is Wammu, who’s in Greece at the moment.  He simply can’t afford to take on Joseph in this situation, so he doesn’t try anything too crazy.   Both of them know his blades are powerful enough to get the job done, so he used them, but when they stopped being effective, he ran out of cards to play, so he left.    It’s not that Kars is weak, it’s just that Joseph’s gotten so much stronger.    So this fight feels like a much milder affair than the battles with the other Pillar Men so far, even though Kars is supposed to be the best one.  

And this is something else I really love about Part 2.    There’s only five villains to deal with: Straizo, Santana, Eisidisi, Wammu, and Kars.   That’s it, so it makes things pretty easy to keep up with, and it leaves room for Wammu and Kars to fight multiple times.  

Compare this with Part 3, where the Stardust Crusaders have to fight through a gauntlet of evil Stand Users as they make their way to Egypt.    I think I counted 26 bad guys in Part 3?   Somewhere in that neighborhood.    And I love Part 3, don’t get me wrong, but if Dio only had ten henchmen instead of two dozen, would it really hurt the story?  

This was something that really bugged me about Parts 4 and 5.   Would La Squadra Esecuzioni’s role in Vento Aureo be any different if they only had five guys instead of seven?    And what was the deal with that dude who lived in the transmission tower?    Most of the “villains” in Part 4 were just randos who just fought with the good guys for no particular reason. 

With Part 2, you don’t have any of that.   Five villains, and three of them only get to fight once.   That means every fight has to count, and every fight has to move the story along.  Kars isn’t going to just show up to be sociable.  He saw an opening to achieve his goal, and he went for it, only to discover his enemies were better prepared than he expected.   Now, he’ll have to wait for Wammu... 

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

One Shot: Wings

Intro: They say that once you’ve been inked, it kinda becomes an addiction��

Warnings: Bad language.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR STARK SPANGLED BANNER

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 “Jamie, ”Katie sighed exasperatedly as her 9 year old looked up from where he was sprawled on the rug of the den, piecing his newest lego kit that Sam and Bucky had bought him for his birthday “You need to get your stuff for school.” “Don’t wanna.” he pouted.

“Tough.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Oh no, really?” Katie bent down, feeling his head. “Hmmmm. You do feel warm. What’s wrong?” “Sort throat.” “Oh, well… that means no soccer practice tomorrow then…and you should go straight back to bed until I can take you to the doctors later today…”

Jamie paused and looked up at her and she raised an eyebrow “Nice try Pal.”  

“Mommmm”

��Don’t make me shout your father.” she used her ace card.

Jamie gave an exaggerated sigh and stood up, rolling his eyes. Katie bit her lip to stop herself laughing at the utter indignation on his face.

“It’s Friday dude.” she smiled at him. “You got all weekend to play legos if that’s what you wanna do.”

“Does that mean I can stay up late tonight to work on it?” he asked hopefully.

“Define late.” Katie looked at him.

“11?”

“Hmmmm, I dunno.” she said playfully.

“Please?”

“I’ll speak to your dad.” she said and he smiled at her, the pair of them both knowing full well that Steve was a soft touch when it came to stuff like that. He’d probably be there helping him out with it anyway.

“Ok Mom. Can you make sure Harry doesn’t touch it whilst I’m at school?”

“I’ll keep this door shut, I promise.”  Katie assured him.

He left the room and true to her word Katie shut the door to the den and watched him head up the stairs, passing Aurora who was on her way down with her rucksack, Steve right behind her with their youngest placed on his hip.

“Hi mammamama!” Harry babbled at her and she grinned, taking him off Steve and planting a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi baby!” she grinned as his hand instantly went to grab the chain of her necklace.

“Jamie not planning on going to school today?” Steve asked her with a grin as Rori headed off to find her shoes.

“Tried telling me he was sick so he could stay home and play legos.” she snorted “Soon decided he was ok when I told him that meant no soccer practice tomorrow morning.” Steve shook his head, smiling to himself.

“Daddy?” Rori tugged on his trouser leg and he turned his attention to her.

“What’s up Princess?”

“I can’t find my sneakers.”

“Where did you leave them?” he asked, his hand gently dropping to the back of her head.

“Erm…” she pondered for a moment, before she looked up at her mom bashfully.

“Somebody left them in the middle of the lounge…” Katie looked at her. “So the Fairies put them away.”

“Sorry…” Rori wrinkled her nose and blinked up at her mom.

“It’s ok. They’re on the shoe rack sweetie.” Katie nodded to the kitchen in the direction of the utility room located at the back of the house.  

“Thanks momma.” she said, running off to retrieve them.

“What time does Emmy’s train get in?” Steve looked at Katie.

“Just after twelve.” Katie said, blowing a raspberry on Harry’s cheek. “I’ll meet her and then take her straight to get inked…” Steve let out a breath from his nose. All Emmy had talked about since turning 21st was a tattoo. Steve wasn’t particularly sure he approved but then what could he do? She was an adult now. Katie hadn’t been bothered, but then as she’d pointed out, she had a big enough one on her thigh so it would be fairly hypocritical if she had. Emmy had won Steve over though when she’d asked him to draw it for her. She’d described what she wanted, a small Phoenix type bird that would sit just above her ankle. So after a few designs and sketches she’d finally settled on something she wanted and after a consultation she was having it done this afternoon.  

“You staying with her?” Steve looked at Katie, concern etched across his face. Katie gave a soft laugh.

“She’s a big girl now Steve but yeah, I’m gonna stay.” she said, tugging on his beard playfully.

“Good.” he nodded, jerking his head out of reach. “Do you need me to pick the kids up later or…”

“No, by the time their afterschool clubs are done we’ll have finished so I’ll do it.” she smiled as Rori came back, sneakers in her hand. She sat on the bottom step and proceeded to push her feet into the pink converse, Steve crouching down on one knee to tie her shoelaces for her.

“Thanks daddy.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” he said, dropping a kiss to her head before he turned to look up the stairs “Jamie! Come on!”

“I’m coming…” came the surly reply, and no sooner had they heard it he appeared at the top of the steps, rucksack in hand.

“Drop the attitude.” Steve said sternly as Jamie trudged down the stairs, scowling. Steve looked at Katie, raising his eyebrow as their eldest son stalked past them, heading to the door, Rori running behind him.

“Wait for me Jay…” she called, her small feet slapping on the tiles of the hallway as she went.

“Told you…” Katie said, smirking “He’s a mini you…”

“That filthy look he had on his face? That is a Stark expression.” Steve said, looking back at her as he picked Rori’s rucksack up.

“Is not.” Katie laughed “That’s the face you make whenever someone’s pissing you off.”

Steve gave a snort before he dropped a soft kiss to her lips, making Harry shriek.

“Kissy!” he laughed.

“See you later.” Steve smiled against her mouth “Love you.” “You too” she said, and with a last peck and a ruffle of Harry’s hair he headed after Jamie and Rori, barking out an instruction for them to quit their squabble over who was sitting in the front seat.

“Easy solution…” Katie heard Steve say loudly “You can both get in the back. End of discussion.”

Their protest’s died as the door snapped shut.

Katie chuckled to herself and looked at Harry “Shall we get you ready to go too baby boy?”

“Go!” he nodded, grinning. 

*******

Katie’s morning was reasonably easy. A meeting and a manuscript to review which she’d managed to do by half 11. Changing out of her office clothes into a loose pair of sweats, trainers and a hoody she headed out and made her way to Grand Central.

She spotted Emmy emerging into the main terminal and swept her daughter up into a hug.

“Hey mom.” Emmy said, squeezing her back.

“Ready to go get inked?” Katie asked, Emmy grinned and slung her satchel over one shoulder, linking her arm through her mom’s.

“You eaten?” Katie asked as they walked out into the early April sun.

“Yeah, followed the instructions.” Emmy nodded.

“Good.” Katie said. “Nervous?”

“A little.” Emmy shrugged “It’s gonna hurt right?”

“It’s not so bad.” Katie shrugged, “Some places hurt more apparently but…most important thing to remember is if you need a break just ask.”

“Ok.”

The two women walked a few blocks, catching up. It had been a couple of weeks since Emmy was home, fast approaching the last few weeks of the semester at Harvard before her exams started. All of her marks so far had been sky high, leaving her parents immensely proud, although both had taken great pains to tell her that they didn’t care what the outcome was, as long as she tried her best.

Eventually they reached the place and Emmy opened the door, stepping in. David, the man that had done the consultation a few weeks back beckoned them both through.

“Ok, so…” he said, tilting the screen to show Emmy the picture of her design he’d scanned “I gotta say I’m excited about this one, it’s pretty unique.”

“My dad drew it.” Emmy beamed.

“It’s phenomenal.” David smiled “I had to sharpen some of the lines up but there’s no major changes. Are you happy with it?”

Emmy nodded.

“Ok, and yours Mrs Rogers…” David clicked and the imaged changed. “The touches we’re adding to your thigh are fairly straight forward but this one…this is what I think it is right?”

Katie nodded.

“Awesome…” David smiled, and hit print and stood up to collect both the prints.

“Have you told Dad?” Emmy looked at her. Katie smirked and shook her head.

“Nope.” she popped the p on the word “Thought it would be a nice surprise when he gets to see it later.” “I’m not sure if I should be grossed out by that thought or not.” Emmy mumbled and Katie simply laughed.

Just over 2 and a half hours later they were done, leaving the parlour with strict after care instructions. Emmy had hardly flinched through hers, whereas Katie’s new one had been slightly uncomfortable due to the placing.

“Think that earned us a beer…” Katie said checking her watch. “Come on, we got time before we need to collect the heathens.”

***** “Show me! Show me!”  Rori demanded.

“You can’t see it yet short stuff.” Emmy said fondly “It’s still wrapped up.”

“When can you unwrap it?” Jamie asked.

“Another hour or so yet.” Katie answered “So quit bugging your sister and go put your school bags away.”

“Emmy do you wanna watch Sponge Bob with me?” Rori asked. 

“Only if we can sing the special song…” Emmy grinned, holding her hand out for a hi-five. Rori giggled, and slapped her smaller palm against her sister’s.

“What special song?” Katie looked at her.

“Oh just a variation on the theme tune we made up.” Emmy said, grinning mischievously 

“I dread to think.” Katie muttered, watching Jamie and Rori head up stairs to deposit their rucksacks in their room.

Katie bustled around making dinner, simple spaghetti and meatballs as requested by all 4 kids…well, the elder 3…Harry merely clapped his hands and yelled “getty” in agreement. She was stood stirring the sauce when she heard Steve walk through the door an toss his keys onto the table in the hall little under an hour later. 

“Daddy’s home!” she heard Rori shriek and a moment later Steve chuckled.

“Hey…” he said, sweeping her up and placing a kiss on her cheek. He carried her through to the kitchen where he greeted Harry with a ruffle of the hair as he sat by the table doodling on a pad with Emmy.

“Hi sweetie.” Steve said, as Emmy stood up to give him a hug. “How was the tattooing?”

“Good.” she nodded, “Oh, actually, mom….should I unwrap it now?”

“Errr, yeah.” Katie said, turning the heat down on the stove and accepting the kiss Steve offered. “Can you watch these 2. I’ll go help Emmy out…”

“Sure.” Steve said, “Where’s Jamie?”

“2 guesses” Katie grinned at him and Steve shook his head, smiling, knowing full well that meant he was nose deep in lego.

Katie and Emmy bounded up the stairs and returned about 15 minutes later, Emmy proudly showing off the design on her right ankle. Steve had to admit, it did look pretty good, but then he would say that, he drew it after all.

They dragged Jamie out of the den for dinner, where the boy managed 2 helpings before he ran off again, almost having a meltdown when Katie told him he had to share the den as Rori wanted to watch Cartoons. One stern look from Steve nipped the tantrum in the bud and the 4 kids departed once dishes had been deposited in the sink, Katie waving away Emmy’s offer to help, telling her to go spend some time with her siblings. It didn’t take her and Steve long to clear down and they were heading towards the living room to collapse onto the sofa together, but the shriek and cheers coming from the den made them both stop in their tracks.

“What on Earth are they watching?”  Steve looked at his wife.

“Sponge Bob, apparently…” Katie said. The two looked at one another, before they headed back towards the den and peeked through the door which was open a crack.

Emmy was stood, swaying with Harry held on her hip, the pair of them laughing, whilst Jamie was doing some kind of strange running man dance as Rori bounced up and down on the sofa as the opening credits began to roll. Emmy opened her mouth and started singing along to the opening theme tune in a pirate voice.

Only she wasn’t singing the theme tune. They were completely different words.

“Who lived as a Capsicle under the sea?” Emmy paused to look at Jamie and Rori who both yelled back in chorus, Harry mimicking them as best he could whilst clapping his hands.

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

Steve blinked, looked at Katie, his mouth dropping open as she burst out laughing at the look of utter confusion and perplexment on his face. She pushed the door open further and all the kids turned to see their parents watching them. But instead of stopping, they continued to sing even louder at Steve as he folded his arms and leaned against the door frame.

“Saluting a hello and killing Nazis…” Emmy continued

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

“If patriotism be something you wish…”

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

By this point Katie was laughing that hard she couldn’t breathe. She doubled over, tears pouring from her face as the kids continued their relentless serenade to their father.

“Then throw a big shield and punch with your fist…”

“CAPTAIN ROGERS!”

That was it. Steve couldn’t keep his face straight any longer and he too started to laugh, grinning as Rori ran over to him and pulled on his hands dragging him into the room to make him twirl her round.

Eventually the song stopped and the room was simply filled with laughter which died down. Steve wiped his eyes and looked at his kids before he crossed his arms.

“You’re all grounded.” he smirked, and then ran as they started pelting him with throw cushions.

****

Later that night, as always, Steve couldn’t stop his eyes from roving his wife’s body as she walked out of the en-suite and into the bedroom, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of sleep shorts ready for bed. As he lounged on top of the duvet, back propped up against the headboard, his gaze travelled down the lines of her body and he frowned as he spotted something on her thigh that looked different.

Suddenly it dawned on him what it was.

“Is that…is that a new tattoo?” Steve sat up, looking at her leg then to her face, and back again.

“Technically it’s an addition to an existing one.” Katie grinned as she made her way to the bed and knelt up in front of Steve. His hands gently fell to her hips as he examined the new ink. The area surrounding one of the 4 stars that formed part of the original tattoo had been shaded with red and gold in a water colour effect. He didn’t need her to explain, but she did anyway.

“That’s for Tony.” she said softly, “And these…” she pointed out 4 additional stars she’d had placed within the existing design “One for each of the kids.”

“Not one for me?” he eventually pouted playfully, looking back up at her.

She bit her lip and grinning slightly, pulled his shirt over her head leaving her top half naked, and she turned her torso slightly the left, holding her arm over her breasts so he could see. His eyes widened as he saw the design that was now etched onto her skin just underneath her left breast on her rib cage.

It was his wings. The wings he had worn on his helmet. The wings adopted by the Howlies as their symbol in the war. And above that sat a star that was the same as the others on her thigh.

“That’s for you…” she said softly.

Steve was struggling for words. There was something he was finding outrageously sexy about the fact she’d had that placed somewhere that no one would really see other than him. And something ridiculously sentimental about the design she had chosen.

“Do you like it Soldier?” she asked softly, biting her lip.

He looked up at her, smiling as his hands gripped her bare waist and he pulled her down with him so she was led on top of him. “I love it.”

“I love you…” she grinned, melting into his arms as his hands ran up her bare back, her nose nudging his softly.

“Back at ya pretty girl.” he smirked, before his lips claimed hers in a heated kiss.

 **Original Posting**

[thefloorisbalaclava]

A/N: Thank you for this @tiffdawg​!

And thanks to @loki-098​ who is always helping me out. Also I used my favorite color.

“I dunno shit about flowers, man,” Frankie tells Santiago as they walk through the garden center at Home Depot.

“Ask someone,” Santiago tells him, pointing at one of the people wearing an orange apron.

They walk over and the employee greets them with a bright smile. “How can I help you?”

“He wants to plant a garden for his girlfriend,” Santiago blurts out and Frankie glares at him.

“I…want to plant a garden…for my girlfriend.” He sighs when he realizes he just said the same exact thing.

“Okay, well, what flowers do you have in mind?” the man asks.

“Uhhhh….” Frankie looks at his friend who only shrugs. “Pretty ones?”

“Wait…what’s her favorite color?” Santiago asks and Frankie is grateful for the save.

“Blue! Blue flowers. Got any of those?”

“Of course! There’s hydrangeas, the Himalayan blue poppy, forget me not, desert bluebell, blue dai--"

“That’s…a lot,” Frankie cuts in.

“We have all sorts, sir,” the man says excitedly. “It’s all up to you.”

“I know. That’s the problem. I don’t know the first thing about this.” Frankie feels like he’s back in school getting ready for an exam and this test he definitely wants to pass.

The man explains more things to him and he just nods and picks up whatever the employee happens to point out.

“Excellent choice, sir. Your girlfriend will love them.”

“Thanks for all your help.” Frankie turns to Santiago who has been pushing the cart.

“Think you got enough?” Santiago teases.

“It better be enough.” They walk up to checkout and Frankie cringes at how much he spends but nothing is ever too much for his sweetie.

*

Santiago helps Frankie unload the truck when he gets home then gets into his own car to head home. Frankie stares at the plot he set aside in the backyard for this then looks at his watch—he has a few hours until you get home.

He couldn’t decide if this was a good idea or not. He clearly knew nothing about flowers or gardening but you like them and that is a good enough reason to get him to do anything. Keeping it a surprise might prove a challenge too, but he picked the backyard for that reason. You hardly went back there—he mows the lawn, rakes the leaves, puts out the sprinklers. Now that it was warmer, he sometimes fires up the grill and that brings you out to the backyard, but other than that, he is safe.

*

Frankie works until the sun begins to set and he hears your call pull up. He looks down at himself and sees he’s covered in dirt but walks around to greet you anyway.

“Hey guapa,” he says as he wipes the dirty gloves on his jeans.

“Hey…Frankie?” You take in his appearance—looking him up and down. His cap is on backwards and there’s dirt smudged on his cheek and nose. Your laughter makes him smile. “Did you get into a battle with the weeds back there?”

“Something like that. Here lemme help you.” He reaches for your bags.

“Nuh uh. You’re filthy, sweetie.” You give him a kiss on the lips which he deepens, of course, his arms wrapping around you. Some of the dirt from his face is certainly on yours now. “Francisco!”

“Now we’re both filthy.” He shrugs and takes the bags from you. “I thought you liked it dirty anyway,” he teases. You gasp and hit him on the butt, making him laugh loudly.

“Boots off before you go through that door, mister!”

“Yes ma’am.” He easily kicks his boots off then toes them out of the way before pushing the door open.

“And we gotta hurry and get those jeans in the wash,” you point out.

“Hm, why? I got lots of ‘em?”

“Because I happen to really like those on you.”

He puts the bags down and turns to you. “Are you…checking me out?” He feigns shock.

“I’m always checking you out and while you look great in the jeans, I need you to get them in the wash now and you do the same.” You point towards the laundry room.

“You want me to get in the washer?”

“Oh, so we’re being a smart-ass tonight? Guess I won’t be giving you a nice little clean up.” You walk around him and head upstairs and can hear him scrambling behind you, hopping on one foot as he tries to pull his dirty jeans off.

*

Now in bed, Frankie has curled up and nuzzles you as you hold him close. This was an every night tradition and you love it. It is the only way he can fall asleep.

“Are there more weeds to pull?” you ask, playing with the hair hanging on his forehead. He smells like his soap and your shampoo.

“Yup.” His eyes are closing already and he yawns.

“Should I take tomorrow off so I can help you? I feel bad that you’re doing all this work on your vacation time.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I don’t mind.” He opens his eyes long enough to give you a kiss but once he puts his head back down, he’s out for the count.

“Goodnight Frankie,” you whisper, reaching carefully to turn out the light.

*

Frankie gets up early with you so he has all day to finish up the gardening. Your ‘see you later' kiss gives him all the energy he needs. He works through the morning and afternoon without a break. He doesn’t notice what time it is until he stands, holding his lower back and your voice reaches his ears.

“Frankie, are you still back there?” You are getting closer so he makes his way through the back door quickly to stop you.

“Heyyyy,” he says, standing in front of the backdoor awkwardly.

“Hey, dirty boy,” you greet. “How’s it looking out there?” You crane your neck but he doesn’t move.

“All done. How was work?” He takes off his dirty gloves and grabs your hand to lead you away to the living room.

“Same shit, different day,” you say. “Frankie…your boots.” You look down at the trail of dirt and stand.

“I got it, baby. It’s my mess.”

“God, I love you.” You kiss him then let him go get the broom. “You know, watching you do housework is…kinda hot.”

He freezes and looks up at you. “I’ll put a French maid outfit on next time and really spice things up.”

You snort and double over in laughter. “What an image.” You stop laughing for a moment and really think about it.

“Wait…don’t tell me you’re actually trying to picture it.” He disappears down the hall the leads to the backyard. You hear him kick his boots off.

“Maybe I am.” You shrug just as he walks out.

“You know what? I’d do it for you.”

“I’d hope so. You’ve had me put on some questionable things. I deserve something.” You chuckle at how quickly his face turns pink then red. After a quick kiss, you point upstairs. “Bath time.”

Frankie scurries upstairs as you follow behind, smiling from ear-to-ear.

*

After two weeks or so, Frankie is finally ready to show you what he’s really been doing. He sets up the grill as soon as you head out. Looking over at the blue flowers that were now in full bloom, he can’t help but feel proud of himself. Maybe he had a bit of a green thumb after all.

This time when you get home, he’s not covered in dirt, but he’s not in the front to greet you either. When you get out the car, your nose tells you why—he’s grilling. You walk inside and kick off your shoes.

“I’m home, handsome!” you call.

“Great. Go get into something comfortable and come get something to eat!” he shouts back.

“What? No kiss?”

“You gotta come get.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Fine,” you say quietly, heading upstairs to change. The smell of the food made you move a little quicker than usual. You head back downstairs and to the backdoor. “Did you need me to bring-" Your words escape you as you open the screen door to see Frankie standing off to the side in front of a bed of blue flowers proudly.

“You like it?” he asks.

Your eyes follow the blue all along the fence then go back to him. “Blue…my favorite. It’s beautiful.” You sniffle and walk over to kiss him.

“Just don’t ask me what kinda flowers they are because I can’t remember for the life of me.”

“How did you…how did I not know?”

“That’s kinda why I picked the backyard. You only come out here every once in a while, mostly when I’m grilling so…”

“My boyfriend is a romantic genius.” You look at the flowers again. “I’m gonna come sit out here every day now.” You pull your phone out. “Gotta take pictures.”

“For what? You can just walk out the backdoor to see them.”

“I know but I wanna have memories for when they’re not in bloom anymore…and I also wanna show off at work.”

*

“Are you happy? Do you really like the flowers?” Frankie asks as he climbs into bed and lays down beside you.

“I’m with you, of course I’m happy. And the flowers...no one has ever done anything like that for me before. I love them more than anything.”

“More than me?” Frankie asks jokingly.

“It is impossible for me to love anything more than I love you…although your cooking is pretty damn good.” You yelp and giggle as he grabs you and rolls you on top of him. “Seriously, babe…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’d do it a thousand times over.” He kisses you softly.

“In a French maid outfit or…” You laugh.

“I’d do it naked for you.” You both laugh but then you really start to think about it. “There’s that look again. You’re actually trying to imagine it!”

“Can you blame me, hot stuff? You’d have dirt everywhere and I’d have to clean you up.” Frankie sits up, knocking you off him in the process. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing. I’m just gonna go roll around in the dirt so you’ll bathe me.”

“You’re so silly,” you laugh. “Come here.”

Frankie gets back in bed and rolls onto his side. He reaches behind him to grab your arm and put it around him before lacing his fingers with yours. You sit up slightly to lean over him and kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Frankie. I love you, my little gardener.”

He chuckles quietly. “I love you too.”

[leupagus]

My Stationery Box, or: The Douche Chest, or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Being A Terrible Parody Of Myself

So I really love to write letters, and have since i was a kid — when i cleaned out my grandparents’ house I found a few I’d written in grade school, and my parents’ files are chocablock full of the weird collage type things I sent to them in college. 

I’ve also been a huge insufferable fucking snob about stationery since way too young (yes I did have a fountain pen phase, no it did not go well) and have been collecting fancy paper and cute cards and assorted weird writing paraphernalia forever. Up until recently, things were just kind of haphazardly stuffed in various drawers and shelves and I could never actually find any said fancy shit when I wanted it; but a couple of months ago I discovered an adorable little chest of my late mom’s that had previously housed, I think, her knitting and has mostly just been collecting dust since. And voila: The Douche Chest was born:

(Pictured with my elderly laptop and coffee with my coffee warmer, which I STRONGLY ENCOURAGE everyone to buy one day when we’re not under worldwide quarantine, seriously it will change your life.)

Keep Reading for some top tier stationerdery

First off, the stuff that helps me write! I still use my family address book, which was purchased sometime in the early 80s and has the name and address of everyone my parents ever cared enough about to want their name and address, which is actually not that many people. I keep it updated and have added a few people, but mostly rely on my phone’s address book. Mostly I like it because it’s got a lot of my mom’s handwriting.

My planner, which has a whole correspondence section where I keep a record of who I write to regularly, when I write to them, and what kind of stationery they usually get (because there are different types and you don’t want to give a correspondence an inconsistent letter-reading experience! Yes I know, I can’t believe I’m like this either) indicated by the m, s, x, l, b notations. That will be relevant later. Also yes the planner is where I scribble down both story ideas and my gratitude journal. This is what I’m saying in re: yikes.

At my own house, I have a whole huge box of letters I’ve gotten over the years, mostly organized by sender and date. Since I’m at my aunt’s house for quarantine, my correspondence is all being kept in my dad’s old... I dunno what to call it, basically it’s a trapper-keeper type thing that I literally never saw him go to work without. (A running theme of this tour is that a whole lot of this stuff is inherited from/given to me by my parents and grandparents.) Inside is also various labels that have come in handy when addressing packages etc, as well as our local neighborhood directory.

Next up is my pen bag, which is — I mean, it has my pens. I prefer writing with a black .5 tip rollerball type pen, and by “prefer” I mean “I cannot abide writing letters with anything else and will go to Staples and buy a new box rather than use a ballpoint pen except obv not right now, which makes the bag real important for keeping track of all my special pens.” Also pictured: my grandpa’s ancient letter opener that I’m pretty sure he stabbed multiple people with, and my blue Le Pen which I use to annotate my letters when I’m reading them through before sending. I KNOW.

This is my assorted letter-writing stuff storage box (no we’re not even at the cards yet this is TERRIBLE); please note that I sort of jerryrigged this box together myself, which will be another running theme of this tour. Glue, roller whiteout thingies, washi tape (which I don’t really use but people keep sending me?) post-its and my address stamp because no matter what I do, the fuckin’ Audubon Society refuses to send me a single donation request with cute stickers showing my address even though they’ve sent my deceased dad like three THIS YEAR. Anyway. Also please note the incredibly awesome initial stamp thing — I came up with the rough design in college and use it in place of my name a lot, but I went to leoniebunch and they transformed it into this super professional and lovely design that I want to use for the rest of my life. Not pictured: the fucking wax seal I also had made with that design, because yes, I’m like this.

WE’RE STILL NOT DONE WITH THE PARAPHERNALIA: here’s the other misc. stuff that I use on the regular. Cup with sponge because we’re not really licking envelopes these days: tons of weird stickers that I’ve collected, YET MORE PENS, including rainbow ones because one of these days I’m going to write to one of my friends with alternating rainbow colors and they’ll have to murder me. Also pictured: the letter opener which I forgot to put back in the pen bag, as well as my dog’s nail clippers and brush because that’s a handy place to keep them. Also also pictured: my dog, who does not help in any way with letter writing.

OKAY FINALLY ONTO THE STATIONERY, Jesus just writing this all out is making me both proud and ashamed.

I’m sure you noticed in the first pic how everything is meticulously, not to say monomaniacally, labeled. Some stuff might require a little bit of explanation; some stuff is pretty wysiwyg though. For example, BEAR CARDS, which:

(These are sent exclusively to my nephews, who go absolutely apeshit over them every time. Come to think of it, I have a LOT of cards/letter stock/etc that is just for one person or one set of people, which maybe I should talk to my therapist about.)

PUN CARDS are likewise exactly what you think they are; they’re the most recent addition to my hoard, having found them at Powells when I went to Portland in February. They are extremely My Kind Of Thing.

Then you’ve got things like BIRTHDAY CARDS, THANKS, POSTCARDS which like — guess what:

(Please note that of these birthday cards, all but two were actually inherited from my grandmother who passed away in 1986. See if you can guess which two are my purchases.) (Also I’m running out of thank-you cards but to be fair I am rarely grateful so this should last me another few years at least.) (Also shit, I didn’t take a picture of the postcards I don’t think? Whatever, they’re postcards that I’ve either inherited from my parents or collected over the years. There’s also a very odd collection of wolf-themed cards that SOMEONE in my family collected, and that I have been using exclusively for allighater because she’s the only one who could ever appreciate them enough.)

Then there’s the BLANK CARDS and BLANK AND WRITTEN CARDS WITH/WITHOUT ENVELOPES, because sometimes I just need to know what I’m getting into before opening the boxes. I’d say a good 50% of these were inherited from my folks, with the cutsier ones being my own purchases. The cards that these boxes originally contained are looooooooong since used up but they’re nice boxes and that meme about adulthood being an endless debate over whether or not you should keep a box because it’s a really good box is accurate as all hell. 

(There are a lot of cards in here that I bought when I was like, in college — those square ones, for example, were purchased at Faces in Northampton when I was in college and I’m probably never going to actually send them which is kind of ridiculous but see: this entire post.)

And finally, the actual letter-letter stationery! Which I also have an embarrassing amount of! First up is what’s labelled MADOC TREE CARD/LETTER because I honestly had no idea how else to describe it; it was inherited from my grandma who everyone called MaDoc (on account of her being both a ma and a doctor, go figure) and it’s really lovely. I doubt it’s the original intention, but I like to unfold the paper and use both sides of it, because I always have a lot to say. These are used only for family members on MaDoc’s side, and of those, only the ones I really like, which accounts for there still being a lot left.

Then there’s the X-LARGE paper, which isn’t actually that large — it’s just normal computer-sized — but in context is the biggest stuff I’ve got. All of this paper is from my mom, who loved using cute themed paper, and I use this stuff mostly for the friends of hers I keep in touch with (which is actually kind of a lot).

Then there’s the letterhead I use for — okay, so like, we know by now that I’m deeply weird, but this is probably just DEEPLY WEIRD, but whatever, you came this far. So I found a metric shitton of 6 3/4 envelopes in amongst my parents’ office supplies — I have literally zero idea why they had about 5 100-count boxes of these envelopes but I’m one of those people who can never, ever throw shit out, so! I gathered together all the letterhead that they’d also collected over the years from the various universities and hospitals they worked at, cut said letterhead down so that it a) didn’t have University of Tacoma or whatever still on it and b) perfectly fit a 6 3/4 envelope if folded three times. The resulting shape is a little... odd, I’ll admit, but it pleases me greatly and that’s the important thing. In fact this has been my go-to correspondence choice for a couple of months now.

(Also pictured: the cover for this hinky-ass box I made out of a Beekman 1802 box from when we went to their store for their Rose Apothecary popup shop. Zero regrets. Not pictured: the really cute pad of paper I also use for these envelopes that’s a more normal size and shape because where’s the fun in showing you normal stuff?)

And finally, my pride and joy, my Crane Stationery, some of which I have had since I was in high school and my mom bought me a box of it for my birthday (I told you, running theme). It comes in small, medium, and big; yes, I absolutely have rules as to who gets what size of these, too. The medium box kind of fell apart a few years ago so I cobbled a new one together; Crane stationery is notable for not being as exciting as that cover might imply. I’m also kind of pleased that I still have the airmail stationery that I got in college that apparently isn’t sold anymore, which I find baffling because what the fuck is the point of international correspondence if you don’t have to use special stationery? Anyway:

(In re: the lined sheets — I actually have them for every size, because I loathe lined paper but also loathe writing crooked, hence these guides that I put under each sheet as I write. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

So that’s the complete guided tour! If you aspire to have a collection as viscerally unnerving as mine, feel free to send any questions my way. You’re welcome/I’m sorry.

[captainjimothycarter]

Steve & Peggy are close childhood friends that reunite in college incidentally. They briefly recognize each other when they happen to walk by each other on the way to class, but can’t stop to catch up, and they have to find each other later.

Steve & Peggy are close childhood friends that reunite in college incidentally. They briefly recognize each other when they happen to walk by each other on the way to class, but can’t stop to catch up, and they have to find each other later.

 Oh, this is just so soft. I am so sorry, it’s so long.

--

“Are you an idiot or something?”

The posh, British tone makes steve look up from where he’s doing a pretty good impression of an Ostrich, his face coated in red dirt and blood. She could see tracks in his skin from where his tears had ran.

“No,” he grumbled, pushing himself to sit up and spitting blood out of his mouth. “Dunno why you’re asking me that. Who are you?”

“Someone that just kicked their butts.” Her thumb jerks over to Steve’s neighborhood bullies stumbling out of the abandoned lot. Even with his bad vision, he could see how Percy was limping and the welt rising on the back of Jeffory’s neck.

“I didn’t ask for you to save me, I had it handled!”

“Clearly.” Her tone and eye roll said otherwise. “You had them by the ends of their britches if you ask me. They were gonna kill you or worst. You’re lucky I spotted them.” Her hand held out and without asking for permission, jerking him to his feet. She’s taller than him, not by much, just two inches. He’s a small thing that looks like he’s gotten accustomed to his face meeting the ground a few times. He defiantly doesn’t know how to defend himself given how he was curled up when those three boys were surrounding him.

Typical brutes.

Steve frowned as he found his way to his feet, ruffling the dirt out of his hair. He was still watching her, confused. She wasn’t from around here, he’s never heard her voice before. He’d remember her accent. It was pretty, like Miss Ramous’. She wore posh clothes too, a pretty pink dress that was now stained with dirt and blood – his blood. Her white knee-high socks were just as stained. The only thing old on her was her tennis shoes.

“Steve Rogers,” he finally muttered, holding his hand out to her. “Thank you.”

“Margaret Carter.” She said her name with pride, showing her white teeth as she smiled and they shook hands. “I just moved here with my mum and brother. I think we’re next-door neighbors in the apartments? I’ve seen you around the complex. You helped Michael.” She paused and started to fuss over his torn shirt. “Do those boys do that often?”

“Do what? Gang up on me?” His one-shoulder shrugged, she noted it was too painful for him to lift the other one. “Sometimes. Normally. Yeah. I fight back but they always gang up on me. I don’t like bullies and if I don’t stand up to them, no one will. They were hurting a cat! That cat didn’t do anything.”

Peggy’s eyes landed on a burlap sack, now empty. She’d seen a streak of orange when she pulled up on her bicycle, having heard Steve’s yelps echoing down the alleyway.

“You’re pretty brave. Stupid, but brave. I’ll teach you how to fight.” She paused, waited for him to scoff like all the other boys did for being a girl, and knowing how to fight. When it didn’t come, her face pinched slightly. “You’re not gonna laugh?”

“Why would I laugh? You said you were gonna teach me how to fight. What? Cause you’re a girl.” Steve shrugged again and his face pinched. “My ma is a girl and she’s the bravest person I know.”

“You know…” Peggy sighed, picking up Steve’s good arm and throwing it over her shoulder to support most of his weight out of the alleyway, “You’re not so much of an idiot after all. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

--

“ Margaret Carter!”

Even Steve had to flinch from the shrill of a woman who looked like Peggy’s voice. She had Peggy’s pretty eyes and curls but her features looked almost sour as she dragged her daughter away from him and left someone with sandy blonde hair and limbered limbs to catch him.

“Mum, stop, I’m fine!” Peggy complained, trying to tug out of her arm. “I was helping, Stevie! He’s our neighbor and the boys in the neighborhood were hurting him!”

“You did what?!” She turned to round on Steve, who was just as confused as anyone. “How dare you involve my precious daughter in these ridiculous tomfoolery games of yours! You’ve ruined her dress and God knows what else!”

“Mother.” The guy holding Steve up looked older than Peggy but had the same kind eyes. Only Peggy’s mother had them but crueler. “Stop it. Peggy was helping a kid in trouble. I’ve seen those boys around the neighborhood. They’re no good and were hurting some poor innocent animal.”

At least someone was defending him because it seems he had lost his voice.

“I don’t care, Michael. Look at what they did to her dress! She has an interview in an hour and-“

“Mother, stop!” Peggy shrieked, stomping her foot and jerking away from her mom. She went back to Steve’s side and helped him stand back up. “Michael, let him go. I got him. Stop being mean. Steven needed my help and I helped him. It’s what dad would’ve done. You would let Micheal help him. I don’t even want to go to this boring, private school with uniforms and stuck up teachers.”

“No daughter of mine is going to some disgusting public school with filth like that!” She glared at Steve like he was a piece of dog turd that he’d thrown in Percy’s face earlier. “And of course I would’ve, no girl should be fighting. It’s unladylike. Now come on.” She went to jerk her again but Steve slapped her hand away.

“Will you stop it?” He snapped at her. “You’ve been nothing but mean to me since I’ve gotten here. You let the front door close in my face when I was helping my ma carry groceries, you locked me out of the laundry room, you turned off all the lights in the lobby when I was using them to read, and now you’re getting mad at me for what? Your daughter’s actions? I didn’t ask for her help. I’m grateful, but she helped me on her own. You should be proud of her! She stopped up to bullies.”

The woman’s face twisted as if she’d been forced to lick a lemon. The sound of the slap echoed through the small hall, leaving Steve to blink away tears.

“You will never touch me again, filth. Do you hear me? This is why I didn’t want to come to America, but your father insisted. Too much filth. Do you hear the language he uses? ‘Ma’. No proper English.” She jerked Peggy away with no warning, shoving her inside of the apartment and slamming the door in Steve and Michael’s face.

Michael was quiet, holding Steve’s shoulder a bit too tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a beat of silence. “She won’t hurt, Marge. She’s cruel but not in terms of…man handling. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Steve couldn’t say no as he was brought inside his own apartment, his ma at work. He was silent as the elder Carter cleaned him up, not even flinching when the alcohol stung the wounds. Michael spoke, he didn’t like silence it seemed. He told him about how their father owned a publishing company and was moving some of the branches to America to expand and how they were going to live here for some time now. And how their mum didn’t like it but Peggy was excited about the adventure.

He spoke lots about his little sister, said how scrappy she was. How she was born small and always fighting, just like how he was. How she was smart and knew two languages now. She was only a year younger than Steve but already reading at a college grade level like he was. He had taught Peggy to fight and their ma had gotten mad at her, not him for teaching her. Made Peggy promise some ridiculous thing about how she was never to be so unladylike.

Peggy, of course never kept that promise.

“Am I not allowed to be friends with her?” Steve asked, around a mouthful of grilled cheese that the elder brother had made for them. “I-I wanna be her friend. She’s nice to me.”

“If you ask my mother she’d say otherwise,” Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But I’ll make it happen. She deserves friends her age and…like you. You’re the first person to make her smile in days.”

--

Someone cursed behind him when Steve stopped in the middle of a crowded hall to do a double-take, his hand clenching the coffee cup a little bit harder than before. No, this wasn’t right. There was no way this was right. Maybe it was the caffeine, maybe it was the lack of sleep because there was no way Peggy Carter could be back in America and most of all, in his very college.

His best friend, his childhood friend. Someone he loved and held dear and close to his heart, someone, who through the years of high school they’d lost contact with one another after Peggy’s father died and her mother became more overbearing especially when Michael took over the family company. Their last conversation sometimes still played in his head.

If that was her, now that he was doubting it, did she think about him as much as he thought about her? It was nearly five years ago they’d last talked and he still thought about her every other day. There were some friendships you didn’t let go of.

“Hey, Stevie?”

The blonde blinked and looked to Bucky, his new roommate, an arm thrown over his shoulder. “Sorry, I was…lost in thought.”

“What with that pretty girl? With the killer heels? She’s in my French class.”

“Yeah, swear I know her from somewhere.” He rubbed at his jawline as Bucky forced him to move, dragging him down the hallway. “You get her name?”

“Nah, I was late for the last couple of times. I can introduce you two though, just meet me after class tonight.”

--

She was so sure of every last decision she’s made in the five years.

Sure about leaving her abusive mother, sure about joining Michael to live in a cheap flat and continue her schoolwork until she graduated early, sure about taking over the company once she got her degree because Michael was not happy about this type of work while Peggy was. Sure about going back to college in America to run the company from there, because it’s the only time she’s felt happy.

She was sure about everything but one thing.

On if that was truly him.

Could it be? Sure, she was back in Brooklyn but there was no telling if Steve Rogers still lived here, if he even existed.

He’d once mentioned about traveling the world after high school, silly pipe dreams she encouraged because it made him so happy.

He looked so different – if it was him. Broader, muscular, fuller hair, and brighter eyes. Last she saw he was scrawny and lanky like he hasn’t grown into himself. He certainly has now – if this was him.

She should turn back, run back to him, ask, and risk herself the embarrassment but the crowd of people was already dragging her away and she couldn’t risk being late to class her first week.

Maybe she could attempt to see him again, stake out the halls.

God, she was being ridiculous. Angie would flip if she knew she was thinking about a boy.

--

“Peggy Carter?”

The voice droned on names so fast that Peggy almost missed hers, her hand shooting up to alert the teacher she was here before dropping her head back down to doodle in the corner of her book.

French. She was fluent in French, so she figured it was an easy A, if anything, but she didn’t expect the class to be so damn boring. The teacher taught everything wrong that if Peggy wasn’t fluent, she’d have to spend time unteaching herself, just to relearn again.

“Pst. Pst.”

Peggy glares in the direction of a brunette guy with silver eyes poking at her with the end of his pen. “And what do you want? I am not keen on having Miss Cat-Lady yell at us for talking.”

The guy laughs and rolls his eyes, throwing a look to the dubbed Cat-Lady whose having a difficult time doing something on her computer. “She treats us like we’re still freshmen in highschool. Anyway, it’s Peggy, right? I got someone who wants to meet you, stay here after class.”

Before Peggy could even ask who, the lights are dimmed and her attention is drawn to the PowerPoint on the board.

--

“Alright,” Peggy sighed when the brunette-James, she learned- stepped back inside the empty classroom, waving his hand at someone to stay still. “What’s all this about? I don’t like surprises much.”

“Oh, you’ll love this one.” He was all grins, he had a very boyish face and attitude that reminded her so much of her brother.

The very last Peggy ever thought to see was the blonde from before, coming through the door with a paint-stained sweater, blue paint drying on the tip of his nose, charcoal on his hands, and nervously holding a cup of coffee.

Her hand flew to her mouth, a few desks between them, unsure of how to get her legs to move. How to move from her spot to his.

This close, she knew in her heart it was him. She could see the kindness in those eyes. The soft scar along his jawline from where he fell off his bike. That boyish grin as the coffee cup dropped to the table and tables pushed out of the way as he scooped her up.

She should be furious that he’s ruining her clothes again, charcoal stains of handprints on white silk but she can’t be. She’s laughing as he spins her around, and they both pretend the other isn’t crying.

“Is it really you?” Peggy whispers, holding Steve’s face in her hands.

“Y-yes, Peggy, yes. I…” He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he acted on an impulse that he should’ve done in the first place.

He kissed her and Peggy sunk into him as she was placed on her feet, arms around his neck until they parted.

She laughed as they did so, her dress officially ruined. “You think I’d learn my lesson the first time we met.”

Steve cringed as he looked down at the front of her dress and at his now cleanish hands. “Your ma isn’t here to yell at me, is she?”

“Good Lord, no, Steven, no, but I am.” The smile on her face said otherwise as she took hold of his face again to kiss him. “I think it looks beautiful with the new handprints.”

A scoffing noise caused them both to look up, Steve’s face flushing as they both realized Bucky was still there. “You two,” he grumbled, downing the coffee and making a face, “are sickeningly cute. Steve, what the fuck is this coffee?”

Steve snorted into the arm of his sweater. “It’s not, Buck. It’s paint water I’m using for a project.”

[artificialqueens]

And Everyday: When Life Gives You Lemons, Put Some Vodka in Your Lemonade (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode, Jaida Essence Hall/Jan Sport) - Campvanjie

AN: This was originally written for a fic exchange, and posted to AO3 under my now deleted account there on May 1st, 2020. Reposting here, because I’m proud of it, and am clearing old S12 fics from my Google drive. I’m the original author of this work, and there’s absolutely no plagiarism going on!

Summary: Gigi needs a soft place to land after her quarter-life meltdown, and Crystal realizes the happily every after she gave up on, might not be totally out of reach. Meanwhile, Jaida and Jan work on restoring an old barnhouse; because marriage begets home improvement.Prompts: Parenthood AU, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, and Angst all used to varying degrees.

CW: conversations around divorce/child custody and (past) bullying behavior, character mentions (non-specific) mental health issues as the reason for a past breakup.

-

“- Ugh, anyway, it’s like 3:30, he’s almost an hour late and I don’t know why the fuck I even got all dressed up just to sit at court being looked at like I’m some cheap bitch-”, Gigi grumbled into her phone. It was pressed against her cheek as she tried her best to juggle her purse and a extra-large coffee held in her other hand, her livid glare captured perfectly in the harsh, white light of the bathroom mirror across from her.

“I dunno, maybe because you have to be there? Kind of the mom thing to do.”, Crystal told her, static edging into her voice.

It was a long-distance call after all, and Gigi had fought against her fingers dialing the number almost by muscle memory. She had only relented once she had gotten through the packed hallway of the courts complex, and almost collapsed into what seemed like the only empty bathroom.

Call Crystal, had been the only thing she could think of do, in between beating her palms against the cool, brick walls, and shaking with sobs she refused to shed for fear of ruining her makeup.

Without missing a beat; Crystal had picked up, her voice always high and slowed, syllables enunciated in a way that had trained Gigi into asking for coffee, like it was spelled with a K, calling her son’s name, with the E in the middle a sharp, upward spike.

Crystal, Gigi realized with a start; was who had taught her to gulp in her breaths to hide herself crying, and shove her fist into her front pocket, to keep herself from shaking so much.

“I know. I know you’re right. I just- God, I’m so sick of it. It just want this all to be over so I can go back to what’s important, and stop feeling like my entire world is crashing down around me."

Crystal laughed, a little too dry for it to be genuine. "Hey, Gigi?"

"Hm?"

"If you- if you wanted, maybe you and the little munchkin could visit? Come see me in Missouri, maybe it’ll get your mind off things."

Gigi’s hands stopped underneath the stream of lukewarm water flowing from the faucet, her eyes meeting her reflection in the mirror. She looked like shit, no matter how much her carefully applied façade remained in place, her gaze jittered around the small room and she had never felt so truly tired in her entire life.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I mean, me of all people should know something about everything falling apart."

Less than an hour later, Gigi found herself dialing Crystal’s number again. She stood outside the courthouse, her glasses misted from the early- evening rain shower as she waited for her car.

Relinquished. She didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or take her parents up on their offer to live in their Florida timeshare and disappear off the face of the planet, too.

"He’s not coming because he filed paperwork to relinquish parental rights two weeks ago. In the eyes of the law, it’s just the two of you.”, her lawyer had told her, after finding Gigi just outside the bathroom. Jackie Cox was always dressed in tweed, pastel, pantsuits, dark hair coiffed in buttery smooth curls at the top of her head, her lips pursed in a thin, straight line, as though she was perpetually exhausted.

Gigi supposed that, being one of the city’s longest-serving family court attorneys would do that to you.

“I don’t know how I missed it on the dockets, but I should have told you first.”, Jackie apologized; her hand warm and steady at the small of Gigi’s back as she walked her client back up the hallway.

Gigi grunted, shrugging her shoulders underneath her jacket. “It’s fin- It wouldn’t have changed anything, Jackie. Really, thanks for everything."

She let herself lean against Jackie, letting one of her oldest friends wrap her arms around her, breathing in the scent of Jackie’s honeysuckle perfume on the courthouse steps.

"I’m sorry this happened-”, Jackie started, and Gigi could feel her heart sink to her stomach.

She had never done well with pity, least of all when she truly deserved it.

“Don’t be. Please, just don’t.”

“What are you going to do now?”, Jackie asked, as Gigi stepped out of her embrace, surveying the street before them that was quickly filling with cars and bikes and buses as the work day finished and school let out for the day.

“Right now? Get in an Uber and hope they don’t charge me triple for being late at daycare again.”

Crystal picked up on the fourth ring, and Gigi could hear the sound of a sink running in the background. Water splashed against metal, and the distinct sound of another woman’s voice, screeching with laughter, buzzed through the speakers of Gigi’s phone.

“Whoo- chile, I’m telling you if you come any closer with that flour, I’m gonna-"

"Shit. Sorry.”, Crystal had muffled the phone against her chest, the static only cutting out when Gigi was sure she had ducked into another room.

“How quickly can you get that guest room set up? I’m pretty sure we can make it for tomorrow if I drive through the night.”

-

“Mom- Mom it’s twelve-thirty-five. It’s way, way, way past your bedtime!”, Destiny crowed from his carseat, kicking at Gigi’s back. His blonde curls were plastered to the side of his face, lips dusted with salt from the bag of chips that Gigi had let him pick out form himself at their last rest stop.

Their entire lives had fit neatly into the sickeningly suburban five-seater that his father had insisted on, the largest luggage case filled with her son’s clothes and bedsheets still having enough room to jostle under his bare feet.

She knew it was impulsive, and stupid, and half-expected the police to pull them over several states away, but as the highways emptied to nothing bur a ribbon of white lines that kept them on the right side of the road, Gigi became more and more convinced she was doing the right thing.    

“My bedtime is five-thirty, kiddo. Yours is eight, so you get to stay up so much later.”, she joked easily, never having had Destiny for so many hours, all by herself in the years since he had started preschool.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense! It’s eight at night and right now it’s morning! Nobody goes to sleep at five in the morning!”, he shrieked, and giggled at his own reflection in the rearview mirror.  

“That’s when the garbage truck wakes up!”, he added. Gigi didn’t remember, if he had ever talked so much, his voice jarring and so different from the toddler babbles she had recorded, and kept on her phone to watch on her worst days.

Her textile studio had taken up her days, until her partners had grown tired of Gigi stumbling in at eleven in the morning, unable to force herself to care very much about their bottom line, and the grey, dull world outside until Destiny had come to kick her out of bed.

Afterwards, his father would take her nights, the pressure incessant that they be exactly what they looked like- a family that belonged in a catalog, with a perfectly dressed, perfectly quiet child, money to burn and success in spades; drinking from matching flutes of champagne while Destiny was left alone in his basement bedroom with a baby monitor and his collection of stuffed animals.

Gigi faltered in a sea of plastic smiles and shallow conversations, and at the end of the day, all of her friends who had warned her off marrying her senior-year rebound, giving her life over to the promise of a bright, empty future, had been right.

He wanted to live in a dream, where she was only ever a sidekick; their son nothing more to him than a prop to parade, an filled-in item on a checklist that he had given up without a second thought.

Gigi had named him Destiny, because she liked it first, but second, because it had sounded so good with his last name; that she had never even considered having to change it.

Destiny Goode was a name that sounded like a motivational quote from a caveman, and she briefly wondered, merging on to the next interstate her GPS system highlighted- if a six-year-old would remember his name if she changed it right now.

He could be a Garret, or a Jaden, just like every other boy at school.

A fresh slate with no more questions to be asked, and nothing left to tie her perfect boy to Gigi’s worst mistake.

“-So, she’ll be here at nine-thirty, and we’re all going to be nice as fuck and not make it weird, okay?"

Crystal smoothed down the pleats of her skirt with her palms, her legs crossed in front of her at the breakfast table, as her eyes flitted between Jaida and Jan, who both had forks in hand as they enjoyed the chilaquilles that Crystal had set out for their meal, knowing this was going to be a big conversation.

"Chile-”

“Okay, go back to the part where she broke up with you and then ended up married to darksided Warner-"

"Guys!”, Crystal protested, glaring down at her friends.

Jaida and Jan had bought the barn on her family’s property not even weeks after Crystal had agreed to put it on the market, the decrepit, white-washed wood tower an eyesore along the country highway.

They were the closest thing she had to neighbors, in the wide acres of rolling plains that separated everyone by miles along the road, and it hadn’t taken long for the three of them to grow close.

Together, they had carved a guest house out of the front entryway, laying water pipes and television cable; and were working on renovations to turn the barn’s hall into an event space, with glass lanterns hanging high along the rafters that Crystal remembered walking across like a tightrope when she was a child.

Jan drilled in heavy wood planks to form a catwalk that overlooked the barn floor, which you could reach from the outside fire escape, and Crystal had been thrilled to finally put her years of following behind her father to use, toolbox in hand as she sanded down the reinforced beams holding up the roof.

If Gigi hadn’t called her, Crystal and Jan had a day ahead of them of hauling the shingles from a pallet left by the side of the road, in Crystal’s truck up to the barn, while Jaida had her camera, and a full calendar of Senior Portraits to finish before the end of the school year.

“I know it sounds like a lot, but please, please, don’t make it weird. Gigi always…- She always needed everything to go perfectly, and I hate to say it but… I might be her only real friend. Like, ever.”, Crystal told them, biting down on the inside of her cheek.

Gigi, who for the past few years, had been nothing but ��a collection of memories that would fire in her brain occasionally, like a slight twinge from an old injury, would be back in the flesh at her doorstep, at any minute. Crystal barely had the time to recruit Jaida’s help in clearing out her guest rooms for Gigi and her son, much less process how she truly felt about offering up her home as their refuge.

Gigi had never responded to the birthday cards she sent for Destiny after his third birthday; barely ever logging into her Facebook page that had been filled with photos of the two of them through college; and seemed to abruptly be cut off after she had gotten married. Occasionally, something would trickle through, a vacation photo of her little family, and anniversary note, a first day at school and a post that asked everyone to go and follow her business page.

For all of the refreshing Crystal did, Gigi’s studio seemed to never upload anything beyond its logo and business hours.

“Nah, listen, I get it, babe.”, said Jaida, a tortilla chip hanging from the corner of her mouth. “People grow and change and we gotta meet them where they’re at."

She nodded towards Jan, who was gulping down her orange juice, with a fond grin. "If you would have told my queen bitch ass when I was in high school, that I would end up married to Miss Team Too Much, I would have stole your man and told the whole school some dirty secret.”, Jaida laughed. “Everybody’s dealing with something, and I was so closeted and angry I was acting a fool for free."

"You were never closeted.”, Jan piped up, her voice rising an octave from normal, making Crystal widen her eyes as she looked to her side.

“Glass closet, honey. Besides, my point is, it’s water under a bridge, whatever we do when we’re young. I love you now.”, she said, pressing a kiss to Jan’s temple as she rose to go take their dishes to the sink. “You ended up turning out to be an amazing woman. I’m sure Gigi’s just the same."

-

The sun was high over the horizon line when Gigi’s car rumbled up the range road, rocks spraying into the grass as her wheels skipped over the pockmarked dirt.

She had taken Destiny to a hotel waterpark with a free breakfast, the absolute joy and shock on his face more than worth being several hours off of the arrival time she had texted Crystal. He was asleep now, only dressed in a pair of shorts and his sneakers, the buckles of his carseat starting to chafe red against his skin.  

Gigi turned left at the barn, towards the yellow-shuttered house she remembered visiting over so many spring breaks and reading weeks, surprised to see two workers, stacking pallets of shingles by the barn door. One was a gorgeous, darker-skinned woman, the sun glittering from the highlights in her hair as she waved over to Gigi, making her grin despite herself.

Crystal’s tiny town had always been welcoming, the huge open expanses of space seeming to make everyone all the more willing to seek a connection- though Gigi would have never guessed that Crystal and her family would ever do anything with the barn, which looked just a little less decrepit than she remembered, so many years later.

She parked by the balcony, just in front of Crystal’s truck, and shook Destiny awake, helping him into the first shirt which she could reach from his bag.

"C'mon, Des. We’re here. Are you excited to say hi to Mom’s friend? She stayed up all night to make you new room!”, she asked, watching as he took in the word around them.

“You have friends?”, he blurted out, so plainly that Gigi couldn’t keep a smile off her face, even if he had probably heard that from a TV show she probably shouldn’t have been letting him see.

“That’s not very nice."

Still, she kissed the top of his head, and helped him out of the car, his tiny hand feeling heavy in hers as they made their way up the stairs to Crystal’s door.

The balcony creaked under their feet, as Gigi raised her hand to press against the doorbell, Destiny tugging against her shirt, pointing up at the colorful strips of cut paper that still adorned the windows, the sun cutting what must have been a stained-glass glow inside the house.

"Snowflakes, like at school!”, he called to her, pressing his face against the windowsill before Gigi pulled him back.

“No, it’s called papel picado.”, Gigi corrected, remembering how Crystal had spent hours at her paper press in the basement of the art rooms in college, a mess of stencils spread across the desk, a chisel and mallet in hand as she studied the pictures her grandmother would send her.

Crystal’s tongue would poke out of her mouth, her pupils blown wide in concentration, oblivious to the darkening sky above her until Gigi would find her, at half-past midnight, standing still wide awake in the middle of confetti slices of cut paper piling around her.

They would kiss, exhilarated and young and alone together, and Gigi would never think anything was wrong until-

“Gigi! Geegs! Look who’s late to their own party!”, Crystal squealed, the door swinging wide open to reveal her; red-brown hair still as wild as ever, piled into a messy ponytail atop her head, and a smile so wide Gigi could see nearly all her teeth. Crystal sparkled with the same craft glitter that had always hung from her fingertips, her cheeks flush as though she’d run from one end of the house to the other.

Her eyes looked bright again, the memory of which was so foreign to Gigi that she took a moment to take it all in, Crystal’s bright skirt and her tight, sleeveless top looking all the more like relics of the summers they had spent together.

“Ahoy.”, she greeted, raising a hand to her forehead in a mock salute.

Crystal giggled.

Giggled, like she always had, and waved them inside with a flourish of her hand.

“Are you mad at me?”, Jaida asked, kicking open the toolbox that she and Jan shared.

They had watched Crystal let the storied Gigi into the house, and decided to occupy themselves with bolting down the side light fixtures in the barn, until whatever was probably going on between their neighbor and ex calmed down enough for Crystal to invite them in.

But, Jan’s temper had grown increasingly short through their day, her drill now clenched in a white-knuckled grip as Jaida held the ladder she was on steady below her, digging in the tool box for the next drill bit she would need.

“Why- the fuck- would I be mad at you?”, she said through gritted teeth, over the sound of the power tool in her hand.

“‘Cause you just said fuck, for one.”, Jaida muttered, her eyes rolling skyward. Her wife had always been a little dramatic, but there was nothing Jaida hated more than the silent treatment, far preferring a knock-down, drag-out, screaming fight to being frozen out for hours with little more than a sharp glance or a silent nodded sent her way.

Jan shrugged her shoulders, her favorite blue and red flannel shirt stretching deliciously tight across her back.

Was Jan teasing her? Was it all some kind of elaborate game that was intended to be finished in their bedroom?

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s killing the mood, babe.”, Jaida teased, hoping that Jan would get the hint.

Instead, she dropped the drill from her grip, clattering down the ladder as it bounced on the hard-packed ground. The battery pack popped from the tool’s back, not that Jan could be bothered as she stalked away, ignoring Jaida’s raised eyebrows.

“Hey- hey- you can’t just wreck stuff because you’re having a bad day!”, Jaida called after her wife, looking down at the mess of wires at her feet. “And I don’t know how to fix this shit so-"

She fell silent, as Jan’s steps echoed up the outdoor fire escape, her body disappearing until Jaida could only see the outline of her long, blonde hair, blowing in the wind from the balcony.

"Jan?”, she shouted, following her up the steps. “Hey, I know I fucked up, but you gotta tell me how otherwise I’m not gonna know how to fix it."

"Right.”, Jan scoffed as Jaida rounded the corner, the two of them facing towards Crystal’s house, where a second-floor light flickered on and off several times. “I forgot that everything’s so easy for you, I just have to spell it all out."

"Okay, what does that even mean?"

Jan glowered at her wife, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Why did you tell Crystal the reason you were a bully in high school was because you weren’t out?"

"That’s what this about? Baby-”, Jaida reached forward, her hand only barely touching Jan’s shoulder before her wife flinched away. “I was just trying to make her feel a little better about the whole thing, everything going on with Gigi. I don’t even remember if I was a bully in high school."

"Maybe I do.”, Jan snapped, her eyes flashing up in anger for a split second.

Jaida sighed, looking back over the horizon; where the sun was starting to dip at the back of scattered farmhouses and cottage homes littered accross the plains. “Look- I- I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“You’ve never apologized."

"You want me to say sorry?"

It had been years since Jan and Jaida had reconnected, long separated from the people that they had been as children.

Jaida had remembered Jan as an easy target from their first day in kindergarten, a tiny, loud girl who fell into a pattern that followed until Jan had left for college on a musical theatre scholarship, and Jaida had gone to play basketball for a small, comfortable liberal arts college in the heartland. When she had met Jan again; she was another person who shared the same name, at an alumni event where both of them had been invited to promote their respective colleges.

Where Jan had always worn her heart on her sleeve, the woman Jaida had married was confident, and passionate, witty and driven beyond belief.

She hadn’t had a second thought proposing to her, in the middle of the butterfly sanctuary at the zoo in the springtime, kissing her passionately without question at their Central Park wedding, their families both swaying together underneath the canopy of a white tent, to the music of the very first DJ they had found on Google.

"I just want you to- admit that it happened.”

“You’re acting like this was a big deal.”, Jaida groaned. “Baby, we were kids."

"It was a big deal. I thought about the stupid shit you and your friends said, for years after- and you don’t know what that was like."

"Okay- I-”

Jaida sighed, laying her hands on the railing that rounded the balcony, squeezing the metal rung tightly against her palms, the fight seeping out of her as she studied her wife, who looked on the verge of tears.

“Jan- baby, hey, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Silence fell between them, the sound of the crickets the only thing that cut in between their breaths. Jan buried her face in her hands, elbows resting against the railing beside her wife.

“I know. It’s just, that stuff adds up sometimes.”

She pressed herself into her wife’s shoulder, letting her head rest against Jaida’s arm.

“It adds up the other way around, too. Don’t think it doesn’t.”, Jan whispered, and Jaida finally let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, her arm snaking around to rest around her wife’s waist. “It’s just a lot of work.”

“Then I’ll work on it, baby. Just tell me what you need.”

Gigi was surprised, at how instantly familiar Crystals kitchen was, breakfast leftovers heaped on top of Destiny’s plate while she quietly accepted a Diet Coke, sipping at the flat beverage as she finally began to relax. Gigi could tell her son was starting to feel sleepy, his eyes losing focus even as he kept lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Cielito.”, Crystal cooed, as she ruffled his curls, passing by the two of them as she moved to shutter the blinds in the kitchen. Destiny clearly thrived under the attention, and Gigi wondered if he had always craved touch, or if he was only a child who was excited by all of the new things around him. The heat was sticky, and Crystal’s brightly painted walls made the whole house look even more like an eternal birthday party, the fridge covered with photos and magnets.

Crystal had never learned to speak Spanish, at least as far as Gigi knew, having begged Crystal to help her pass her class for months when they had been roommates, but she supposed, she must have picked up more of it, with all the time she must have spent with her family afterwards.

“Where are you Mom and Dad?”, Gigi asked, swirling her straw in her Diet Coke. “I should say hi, right?"

Crystal shrugged. "We could Facetime? They were back in Mexico for a while after my Dad got sick, but right now they’re travelling Europe, living the old people dream. I’m sure my Mom still misses you."

Gigi took a deeper breath, her lips pursed as she watched Crystal dump dirty dishes in the sink.

"Is um- are you getting the barn demolished? I saw a couple people working on it outside."

"Oh, that’s just Jan and Jaida. They live there. I sold it a few months ago, and they’re trying to turn it into, like, a wedding hall. You’d love them- they’re the gayes-”, she paused, looking down at Destiny as he tipped his glass of orange juice into his mouth. “They’re super, super in love, and so gross."

Gigi could feel herself start to blush, even though she had started having that conversation with her son almost as soon as he had started to learn to talk.

"I usually have them over for dinner, so you can say hi."

Gigi coughed, swallowing the question that had been at the tip of her tongue since she had spoken to Crystal the day before.

"So? are you seeing anyone?”, she asked.

Crystal shook her head. “I’m not really looking.”, she said. “Still putting the cry in Crystal!”, she laughed. “And you were right, I wouldn’t want to put that on anyone else."

"I- ”, Gigi bit back her reply, not quite knowing if this was a talk she wanted to have, with her son arranging chips on his plate not two feet in front of her.

“Hey- buddy”, Crystal tapped on Destiny’s shoulder, nudging him with her hip. “Go wash your hands in the bathroom. It’s the one with the fish on the door and Star Wars on the curtain."

He looked back up at his mother, Gigi giving him a curt nod of approval as he skittered up the hallway.

"He’s a cute kid, you know? You’re doing a good job.”, she told Gigi, pushing the boy’s chair back in.

“Yeah… mostly not my job, but I’ll pass it on to our last nanny."

Gigi had stood with their plates, following Crystal to the sink where she happily plunged her arms into the hot, soapy bubbles, not caring very much for how her shirtsleeves got soaked in the water, navy fabric clinging to her wrists.

"Seriously. Gigi- look at me.”, Crystal reached around her, shutting off the faucet with a decisive clicking noise. “I don’t blame you for being twenty-one and not sticking around after I flipped out because I didn’t know how to deal with college, and real life and everything. It’s a day by day thing.”, she shrugged, reaching to open a cabinet and put the glasses in the drying rack away.

Crystal’s body was almost uncomfortably close, pressing into Gigi’s side like she remembered them being like, when they had shared their first apartment, having barely enough room for two people in between the fridge and the stove.

“Some days are better than others. But it’s-”, she paused, and smirked, her lips curling into the same wicked grin that Gigi could never shake from her memories, no matter how hard she tried. “No offense, but you’re not important enough for it to have been your fault."

"Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”, Gigi couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Kick a girl when she’s down?"

"Or, some people just have shitty brain chemistry, and other people are assholes. Stop thinking it’s all on you all the time, you absolute flaming fuck-up.”, Crystal told her, her words softening behind her smile.

“Maybe don’t say flaming, but I did fu-"

Destiny padded back into the room, rubbing at his eyes. "Is it adult time yet?”, he asked, his tiny mouth yawning open. “Everyone’s saying all the bad words."

Crystal snickered, turning her undivided attention back to rinsing out the sink, her back turned to the both of them as if to say Gigi was on her own with that one.

"Good night, I guess.”, she muttered, shuffling across the tile towards him.

“See you tomorrow, Geegs. Just don’t forget, there’s always that.”

-

Gigi laid in bed with Destiny resting half on her chest, her son not wanting to leave her side, once the novelty of their adventure had worn off, and he had started to realize that there was a certain kind of permanence, to Crystal’s rainbow-colored walls, to the laughter from the kitchen that came from Jan and Jaida, who had eyed Gigi with enough suspicion to let it be known to her that she was absolutely not welcome in whatever little world they had built.

Okay, maybe the last bit was just in her head, and she could just introduce herself properly at breakfast the next morning- but she had still jumped at the chance to lock herself in Destiny’s appointed bedroom, pretending that he would need her to fall asleep, even though he had only wanted to cuddle before passing out completely the second that she dimmed the lights.

She scrolled through her phone, mindlessly as her son shifted in her arms, the message bubble beside his father’s name still lit up red with unread texts, that she skipped through to flick past her Instagram feed, landing on Crystal’s profile at the very bottom of her following list. The very first account which she had followed, years ago, and the very last that she kept up with, the creeping intimacy of being under Crystal’s roof, trying to piece together the life she had dropped out of, thicker than the heat of the air around her.

Crystal’s photos were all filtered through something that made them look brighter, more vibrant than the rainy afternoons and damp wetlands that they featured in the background, the captions all long, effusive essays about the importance of showing up to vote, or the beauty of the creek behind her house in the summertime. The most recent photo, featured her lying in a bed of sunflowers, grinning up at the sky, eyes half-shut against the sunlight.

Don’t look right into a solar eclipse!, the caption started, followed by at least a dozen laughing emoji faces, alternating with bright pink flowers. Sometimes life just punches you in the face, dummy! And you just gotta deal with it anyway. Don’t waste a second!

Gigi chuckled, locking the phone and laying it back on the bedside table, trying to move as little as possible as she turned off what was left of the light in the bedroom, and drew herself closer to her son in her arms.

His breathing was steady, his hands reaching for her hair in his sleep.

“Okay, kiddo. I got you.”, she said to nobody in particular, sinking lower in the sheets so she could tuck them tighter around him.

There’s always tomorrow, she could hear Crystal telling her, her voice clear as the dream Gigi was starting to slip into.

The next morning, she would start putting everything back together again.

[princessizumi]

Stitches

Random idea I came up with. Please let me know if you like it! <3

Azula had finally gotten Izumi to sleep. Ty Lee was trying to help earlier but she had only managed to rile the girl up more so Azula banished her from the room, telling her to get ready for bed herself. It took a few stories and empty threats, but she had done it, the girl was sleeping soundly now.

 The woman slowly removed herself from the bed and tip toed out the room. Zuko had left Izumi with Azula and Ty Lee for the weekend, the little princess had begged her father for a sleepover with her aunts and he couldn’t say no. Although he did leave them with very specific instructions on how to care for his daughter and to please, please send for him should they need anything at all. Azula had scoffed. Her? Need him? She found it an unlikely scenario.

 Ty Lee was still in the bathroom so Azula decided to make sure their quarters were locked up before heading to get washed up herself. On the way back to the bedroom she notices a trail of little droplets of blood coming from the guest room where Izumi was sleeping. Azula rushed to push open the door only to find that the little girl was not in bed.

 Impossible! She couldn’t have left her alone for more than ten minutes! A rush of dread fills Azula’s entire body. Stay calm Azula. You should investigate before you start to panic.

 The princess followed the trail of droplets all the way to her bedroom. Inside, Azula found her niece sitting cross legged on the bed cupping her hands on her chin. She was waiting patiently for Ty Lee to come out of the bathroom.

 “Izumi what happened? Where did all this blood come from?” Azula asked bewildered.

 “Zuza I fell. My chin hurts.” Izumi blinked sleepily.

 “Fell how? I thought you were sleeping.” She walked over to the child. “Let me see.”

 “I dunno. I fell off.” Izumi pulled her hand away from her chin revealing so much blood.

 “Oh sh- Ty Lee!” Azula banged on the bathroom door. “Ty Lee come out right now!”

 “Yesss?” Ty Lee sang cheerfully as she opened the door. Azula pushed her way inside to grab a towel.

 “Hurry we need to see a physician.” The aunt rushes over to press the towel against her niece’s chin. “Izumi is bleeding.”

 “Oh!” Ty Lee calmly came over to examine the young princess. “It looks like you broke your chin! You’ll probably need a few stitches. I’ve had to get stitches there before. Azula, remember that one time I-.”

 “Ty Lee!! I don’t have time for this! She’s bleeding!” Azula yelled as she picks up Izumi, pressing the towel on her wound.

 “Alright, jeez, calm down before you scare her.” Ty Lee turned to the child “Everything’s gonna be fine Izumi, does it hurt?”

 “Yeah, a little.” The girl said, anxiously looking between her aunts.

 “You’re so brave! And you’re not even crying!” Ty Lee clapped her hands. “Congratulations!”

 “Enough!” Azula was looking for her shoes while still carrying her niece. “Stop wasting time, we need to send for the physician!”

 “Alright, alright. I’ll have Zuko send a doctor.” Ty Lee was about to leave the room before Azula stopped her.

 “What!? Do not tell Zuko about this. He does not need to know.”

 “Azula, I think he’s gonna find out sooner or later.”

 “I don’t care! He will just make things worse!” She looked panicked, holding Izumi closer. She just knew it, Zuko’s going to blow up on her because of this.

 “Hey.” Ty Lee laid a hand on Azula’s arm. “It’s ok, Zuko’s not gonna blame you. He trusts you.”

 “It doesn’t matter! Now go find a physician, bring them here now, and whatever you do, do not call the Fire Lord.” Azula pointed to the door.

 “Ok Azula, whatever you say Azula.” Ty Lee shrugged as she left.

 Azula set Izumi down again at the edge of the bathroom counter to further inspect the wound. Her chin was definitely split open but most of the bleeding had stopped. Azula felt a little more relaxed knowing that her niece wasn’t going to bleed out on her.

“How does it feel?”

 “It hurts.” Izumi looked remarkably calm considering the hysterics Azula had been in a few moments ago.

 “I know.” She tried comforting the child. “Just don’t touch it.”

 Shortly after, Ty Lee arrived with the physician who assessed the situation. He confirmed that Izumi would need four stitches in her chin.

 “Alright then, do it.” Azula demanded. “And be careful, that’s a royal chin you’re stitching.”

 Izumi looked nervous as the doctor set up all his equipment. “Zuza, what’s he gonna do?”

 Not sure how to explain it gently she said, “He’s going to use stitches to close your chin.” That didn’t seem to soothe the young girl. The doctor got to work while Azula and Ty Lee watched over his shoulder.

 “Maybe you should hold her hand Azula, she looks pretty scared.” Ty Lee whispered.

 “Ok.” Azula grabbed Izumi’s little hand in hers. The girl squeezed her eyes shut when the doctor injected a drug to numb the area. Ty Lee applauded her for being so brave. Azula just held her hand tighter as he began stitching.

 “Maybe you should talk to her, tell a joke, you know?” Ty Lee suggested.

 “I know how to comfort my own niece Ty Lee, thank you very much.”

 A couple minutes passed in silence before Azula said. “I’m surprised your chin didn’t break the floor instead, Izumi. It’s so sharp. If you’re not more careful you could puncture the hull of an empire-class Fire Nation battleship, leaving thousands to drown at sea. Because... it's so sharp.” Ty Lee smacked a hand to her forehead.

 Izumi giggled. “You’re weird, Zuza.”

 The physician finished up and Izumi didn’t let go of Azula’s hand once. Azula was proud of the four-year-old, she hadn’t cried at all through the whole ordeal. The doctor gave the young couple instructions on how to care for the stitches and how long it would take to fall out and then bade them goodnight.

 “A whole week for them to come out?” Azula snarled. “How irritating. Do you think we can keep her here for a week, so he doesn’t find out?”

 Izumi was sleeping in between them in their bed. The last thing Azula needed was for her to roll off again.

 “Nope. He’s gonna be here bright and early tomorrow to pick her up.” Ty Lee frowned.

 This was a new feeling to Azula. Zuko was usually the one afraid to confront her, not the other way around. Azula gently pushed back a lock of hair on Izumi’s face. Surprisingly the girl had taken to Azula ever since she was a baby. Even when Azula was moody or aloof Izumi would ask to play with her or follow her around. There were a lot of people responsible for the person Azula was now, her brother, her wife, her mother. But Izumi was different. She never saw Azula as scary or crazy, she was just her Aunt Zuza. And Azula loved it, no matter how much she pretended she didn’t sometimes. She loves Izumi.

 And now Zuko would probably never let her see her again.

 “Don’t worry Azula. Everything’s gonna be fine. You’ll see.” Ty Lee pressed a kiss to her lips and laid down to sleep.

 Azula watched Izumi’s sleeping face for a few moments before getting out of bed. She put on a robe and shoes and headed out the door. Azula walked all the way to the nearest guard post. The soldiers inside were shocked to find the Fire Lord’s sister demanding to use the communication line that connected directly to the palace.

 She had to wait for over fifteen minutes by the time Zuko came on the line. She heard his confused voice over the receiver ask. “Azula what’s wrong? Is it-”

 “Listen Zuzu,” Azula interrupted him, “I just called to let you know what’s happened, but rest assured I’ve already handled it, so I don’t want you barging over here at this time of night, that would be completely unnecessary considering I’m doing you the favor of calling.”

 “Handled what? Azula what are you talking about?”

 “You have to promise me you won’t overreact like you always do.”

 “Azula! Tell me now or-”

 “She broke her chin. She rolled out of bed and broke it. She has four infinitesimal stitches in her chin, and they will fall out in one week. She didn’t cry not once and was very brave and if you come get her now you will have to wake her up and that will just upset her more than she already is.”

 “Oh.” Was all Zuko could say as he processed the information.

 “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t push her out of the bed if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Azula, I wasn’t-” Zuko sighed, “She’s Ok?”

 “Yes, she’s sleeping soundly with Ty Lee right now.”

 “And she didn’t cry?” He sounded surprised.

 Azula laughed, a genuine one. “No, not at all. She’s brave, that one.”

 “Yeah, she’s something else.” Zuko sounded proud.

 There was a long silence over the line. “So, you’re not angry then?”

 “Well I’m annoyed that you didn’t tell me when it happened but no, I’m not mad. It was an accident.”

 Azula wouldn’t admit that she was relieved. “Yes, well you have a bad track record of overreacting.”

 She heard him huff over the line, “I can’t help it. When you have kids, you’ll understand.”

 “No, I think one little gremlin for a niece is enough for me.” She rolled her eyes.

 “Thank you, Azula. For taking care of her, and calling me, a- and everything else.”

 “Of course, Zuzu. Anytime.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

Taste of Home (Indruck)

Prompt for the 13th was: strange harvest

Most days, Duck isn’t too worried about the dirt on his hands or the bits of leaves that stick to his clothes. Most days, he’s not about to meet with a reclusive, wealthy donor to the Kepler Botanical Gardens who has specifically requested Duck be present. 

When he enters the meeting room, Thacker is waiting for him along with a tall, pale-haired man sporting red glasses.

“Ah, here’s Duck now.” Thacker smiles. 

“Sorry, uh, thought we weren’t meeting until-”

“-One. You’re correct, I have a habit of getting a bit, ah, ahead of things t times.” The man offers a wide smile that’s polite but also gives Duck the heebie-jeebies.

“Duck, this here is Mr. Cold. He’s one of the garden’s longest standin supporters. He’s got a project for us, and asked that you be the one in charge of it.”

“I was quite impressed with your work on the native plant section, and I’m told you headed the transplant and maintenance of the tree specimens in the New Zealand section, which is no mean feat.”

“Thanks, I’m real proud of both. What do you have in mind? Is it an exhibit?”

“A private collection. Come, let me show you.” Mr. Cold unrolls a set of plans as Duck shoots a glance at Thacker.

“Didn’t know we did that sort thing.”

“We do for Mr.Cold. Whelp, I gotta go lead a tour. Mr. Cold, I leave you in Duck’s capable hands.”

He joins the taller man in front of the plans; they’re for a garden within a greenhouse, the structure as angular and distinct as the man requesting it. He knows the greenhouse hs Cold’s name above it, is usually used as a teaching space

“I imagine you think me rather selfish for requesting to use your space in such a way.” Mr. Cold doesn’t look up from where he’s making final notes on the paper, as if the answer is a foregone conclusion. 

“Think it’s kinda strange, but I ain’t about to rule on it bein selfish until you tell me what I’m actually doin.”

“I have several species of trees, flowers, and shrubs that I need grown. They are, ah, rather difficult to cultivate anywhere other than their native home, and I am not a skilled gardener at the best of times. Hence my seeking out someone who, I presume, has not killed multiple succulents in the last two months.” The man looks a little ashamed, then clears his throat, “the plants I am asking you to grow are the only specimens of their kind on earth.”

“How’d you get them, then?” Duck tries to keep the suspicion out of his voice, but this feels more and more like some rich guy made an impulse purchase of something that should be in a seed bank or species ark somewhere.

“I brought small specimens over from my home, which is where they grow. But I couldn’t keep them alive, and they were already rare. Last I heard they were all wiped out by an, ah, an illness. I stored seeds from my specimens in hopes of one day regrowing them.”

Duck looks at the diagram closely; the plant’s are actually sketched in, not just noted by name and the number of eraser marks suggest Mr. Cold spent a long time planning out exactly where each one went.

“You’re askin us to do all this because you’re homesick?”

“Yes. I have been away from home for a long, long time. The Kepler gardens have been a refuge for me. Lately I’ve been drawn to the woodland and prairie type sections.”

“I helped with a lot of those.”

Mr. Cold turns to him with a smile, “I know. That is another reason I requested you. But, before we go any further, I must make something clear; these specimens they mean...they are so, so precious to me. And secrecy is a must, for reasons I can only half explain. They would be solely under your care and protection. If that is not a responsibility you wish to take, I understand entirely.”

Behind the red glasses, Duck can just see a glint of hope. 

“Think I’m up to the challenge.”

“Wonderful” Mr. Cold claps his hands together, “in that case, there is not a moment to lose. Here, this is everything you need.” He produces a briefcase, inside which sits ten packets of seeds and three pits, bout the size of an avocado pit.”

“All the information I have on ideal growing conditions is in the attached notebook, and the seeds are labeled. If you have any questions, ny at all, my phone number is in there s well.”

 He pauses, smiles, and murmurs to himself, “it's been awhile since I gave anyone my phone number.”

Duck opts to ignore the stealthy glance at his arms and carefully takes the case, “Thanks, this’ll all be real helpful. 

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

He doesn’t see his new patron (as Juno calls Mr. Cold) for a week. When he does, he’s on his belly, checking for any sign of sprouts in the greenhouse. 

“How goes the growing?” Mr. Cold asks from the direction of Duck’s feet. 

The gardener rolls over and sits up, “Not much to report, just trying to keep an eye on ‘em so I don’t miss anythin important.”

Mr. Cold offers his hand, helping Duck up, “I appreciate the care you’re taking, Duck. I hope it isn’t cutting into your other work too badly.”

“Had to move somethings around, but that's just the nature of this kind of work.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “Pun intended?”

“Uh, I guess.”

“Oh. Your, h, your lunch time is coming up right? I was wondering if you would let me take you to lunch as an, ah, extra thank you?” He’s spinning a small ring on his finger, the shyness almost charming, and Duck felt neutral at best about the sandwich he brought today.

“Sure, thanks.”

Mr. Cold grins, “Oh good. Where would you like to go? I hear the crystal palace has a lovely lunch.”

“The fancy Japanese place? Pretty sure they got a dress code.”

“Brush off the dirt and you look completely respectable.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, “I was talkin about you.”

They both stare down at the classy but still very clear pajama pants Mr. Cold is wearing. 

“Fair point. How do you feel about Indian food?”

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

Duck’s stepped into some sort of painting. And here he thought he was just wandering into the birch grove. 

Indrid (“”I really prefer that name”) is laying on his back on a bench. Sun streams between the branches, falling across his face, making it all angle and shadow in ways Duck wants to sit and study. His silver hair is ruffling in the breeze, and his glasses are pushed up his forehead. Eyes shut and hands folded on his stomach, he reminds Duck of the paintings in fairytales of someone waiting for true loves kiss. 

He’s worried he might be the one to give it.

They’re having lunch once a week at least now, the awkwardness of the first time melting away as Duck got going on a tangent about dandelions only to find Indrid, elbows on the table and chin in his hands, listening to him so intently he blushed on reflex. Then he was giggling as Indrid pulled a custom-made curly straw out of a small tin in order to drink his Mango lassi. And then Indrid had laughed at his laugh and it all fell into place, the conversation so easy it’s as if they’d know each other for years. 

Then there were the frequent visits by Indrid to the greenhouse to check on the progress. Which, if Duck does say so himself, if pretty fucking good. The plants are thriving, reaching for the light, and the trees are already flowering in deep blue stars, the speed with which they reached adulthood fascinating to him. Sometimes Indrid just comes to see the gardens, but always seeks Duck out to say hello and smile that increasingly charming smile at him. 

But the biggest change has come with Indrid asking if Duck would be interested in designing a small garden for him 

“Something very simple and manageable. Hardy too.”

“Any plant preferences?”

“No, I trust your judgement entirely, though you may have to help me with their maintenance the first few weeks, if that is alright.”

Duck would have done it even if Indrid wasn't paying him. He liked sitting in the living room, surrounded by strange art and  crumpled papers, showing Indrid how to tend houseplants. And when they sit on the back porch, each dirt-smudged and grass stained, Indrid sipping soda while Duck nursed a single beer, the other man kept beaming at the new, small patch of garden, Duck’s heart wanted to burst from his chest and flutter around. 

Last night, he stayed late for dinner, and as he was checking over the houseplants…

“I’m fond of this one. It’s sturdy and makes me smile, much like you.” Indrid murmurs as he steps beside him. 

Duck slides a smile his way “Dunno, partial to this snake plant we chose; unique and kinda tall, just like you.”

It’s the worlds weakest flirtation, but as Indrid steps away his fingers tease Duck’s lower back, “I wonder if they can cross-pollinate.”

All of this is why Duck decides to leave Indrid be. Because playing prince charming to one of the gardens donors could backfire and shatter his whole career if he reads things wrong. 

The path takes him past Indrid, and he steps lightly. But just as he passes Indrid's head, cool fingers find his own. 

“How is my favorite flora expert today?” Indrid purrs, eyes still shut.

“Good. Uh. Yeah, good. How’d you know-”

“It was you? I have my ways.” Indrid grins, squeezing his hand once before letting go, “are we still on for lunch tomorrow? I can bring you that soup you like.”

“That’d be great.” Duck hesitates, reaches down and ruffles Indrid’s hair. The other man sighs, rubs his face against Ducks palm. 

“I can't wait.”

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

It takes him until ten pm to remember he left his phone in the greenhouse. Which would not be a problem, except he’s supposed to take a call early tomorrow from Jane, the first time in months they’ve been able to talk.

Plus, he’s been having an excellent text conversation with Indrid until his last rounds, sending him pictures of the plants in the greenhouse, which all look ready to bloom in the next day, and the strange fruit on the trees; speckled gold and white, and smelling faintly of marshmallow. Indrid’s reply texts were filled with excitement (and a great deal of praise, which Duck is thoroughly enjoying).  He wants to keep that going as soon as he can.

He finds his phone on the workbench, looks up just in time to see glowing red eyes reflected in the glass. 

Something’s in the greenhouse with him. Which should be impossible, because only two people have the keys. 

Turning, he scans the plants and spots a large, dark shape holding very still behind the trees. Which would work better if said trees were not so thin.

“I am aware this is not a good hiding place.”

Duck gasps, not expecting it to talk, then steps back when the creature emerges. It towers over him, antennae twitching and wings rustling slightly. His mind puts all the pieces together, and he understands only half of them. 

“Why the fuck is the mothman breakin into my greenhouse.”

The antenna flatten slightly, “I am not breaking in. Do you see any broken glass?”

“No, but I got one key, and the only other person with one ain’t here. And put those down, they ain’t yours.” Duck reaches for the two fruits, each clasped between a pair of clawed hands, only for Mothman to raise his arms. 

“They are, in fact, mine. If you would stop trying to knock me over I can explain.”

“Uh uh, first you gotta put down Indrid’s things, then you can explain.”

The creature chirrs, annoyed, and points at its neck, “His things? Such as this key perhaps?”

Duck stops moving, staring at the key before rising his gaze to the mothmans face and meeting his eyes for the first time. 

“What the fuck? Indrid, what the fuck?”

A sheepish chirp, “There was not a good way to tell you I am a famous cryptid. At least, I did not feel there was one. I was worried you would be afraid of me if you knew.”

“Feelin a little too confused to be afraid. Did, did I just grow a mothman garden instead of a butterfly garden?”

The laugh is unmistakably Indrid, “In a way. I was telling the truth when I said these were from my home, but my need for them went beyond homesickness. Every twenty five years, my kind are compelled to eat these. It is not fatal if we don’t, but we suffer a very unpleasant illness for several weeks if we do not. I resigned myself to that sickness until I began visiting these gardens, and saw there were people who might be able to help me. My own powers, including foresight, cannot replace a green thumb. Your green thumb went beyond anything I could ever have hoped for. This” he gestures to the trees with their glittering fruit, the flowers blooming in a  rainbow of glowing star-shapes, “Duck I, I haven't seen a sight like this in close to a  hundred years.”

Duck holds his breath as Indrid steps towards him, bending to rest his downy forehead against Ducks.

“Thank you, Duck Newton. Thank you for giving me a taste of home.”

The human reaches up to touch a black, fuzzy cheek, “Does this mean you gotta leave or somethin, now that I know your secret identity?”

“Not unless you are planning to tell everyone you’ve been acting as the Mothman’s personal gardener.”

“Nah, rather tell ‘em about the cute fella I’m takin to dinner tomorrow.”

Indrid blinks, “You...you do not find this alarming?”

“I mean, you’re big and a little terrifyin, but you’re still Indrid. And it means a lot that you actually stayed and told me who you were, instead of just flyin off.”

There’s a deep purr as Indrid says, “In that case, may I invite you to dinner at my house, Duck Newton? I can even share some of this strange harvest with you.”

Duck grins, drawing his fingers long Indrids arm, “That your way of tellin me they’re an aphrodisiac?”

Indrid nuzzles his cheek and pulls him close, “I guess we’ll find out.”

[daikon1]

2020 Fanfic Year in Review!

@floraone and @nari20 encouraged me to participate in the Year-In-Review so okay, here we go!!

1. List of fics completed this year:

Completed (as in marked-as-completed) is only two!

Advice From Her Fairy Prince (which I actually wrote in 2019!) and

Swipe Right - A Tinder Tale

I also have two ongoing short story collections that I started this year and then two multichapters that will be carried into the new year, though Teammates Don’t Kiss is fully written and R is for Reverse is more than three quarters done.

2. Number of words written:

86,680!

Not bad considering I only started in August! (Do note that I’m only counting words that got posted, so since I work with buffer chapters this is a little less than what I’ve technically written!!)

3. Your most popular fic this year:

R is for Reverse, for sure! I’m so thrilled that the thing I’m most excited about also seems to be resonating with people.

4. Your personal favourite this year:

Definitely R! It’s such a delight to work on. There’s a reasonable chance I’ll be a bit lost when I finish it.

5. Your favourite scene:

Oh god... the more I think about this the harder it gets to pick just one!! There were so many scenes that I feel like came out really, really well.

I love pretty much every single moment of chapter 6 of R (so much UsaMamo!) but honestly I think the bit where Minako and Ami show up at Mamoru’s apartment might be my favorite? I ADORE writing Minako, she’s such a trip and honestly writes herself most of the time, and the way she and Mamoru play off of each other gives me a lot of really fun completely non-sexual tension. Plus, she’s the WORLD’S BIGGEST UsaMamo shipper and I love that.

Second favorite...I think the bit at the end of Chapter 4 of R, where Usagi and Tuxedo Mask talk after he defeats Leshy. That was totally unplanned - per my outline, Usagi was supposed to leave the tree and be gone when the battle was over - but thankfully she refused, and instead we got some really sweet bonding moments with the two of them. AND THEN HE GETS THE NERVE TO GIVE HER THE DANGOS and you can’t tell me that isn’t hella sweet.

OH and the bit in Chapter 7 of R where Mamoru totally panics over wanting to hold Usagi’s hand. I ADORE that and was so so happy with it.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

Pretty much ALL of the sexting scene in Tinder was HARD to write. It’s very personal to write someone masturbating, it turns out, and this was also my first major work of smut. SO there was a lot of alcohol consumed and hand-holding needed from my beta as I made my way through it.

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

So the bit I’m currently most proud of hasn’t been posted yet (it’s from a later chapter of TDK!), so I’m gonna pick another one!

I skimmed several chapters and found quite a few bits that I’m pleased with. The bit in Chapter 7 of R where he tries to get up the nerve to hold Usagi’s hand comes to mind, but it’s pretty text-heavy so instead I’m going to specifically highlight the bit at the end of Chapter 6 of R:

The smell of her hair lingered in the hallway, her pink slippers lined up next to his black ones, and the dishes from her breakfast still sat, unwashed, on his coffee table. Hints of her presence were everywhere, and yet all he wanted, even moments after she'd left, was to see her again. The kaleidoscope inside him was back, but rather than fragmenting his emotions, this time it zeroed in on only one with crystal clarity.

Even if that rational part of him knew that this wasn't what he was supposed to do, he wasn't strong enough to fight it anymore. For the first time, he allowed himself to consciously think his dearest wish:

Maybe he could get her to fall in love with him.

Also, this one is from Advice From Her Fairy Prince, which is a Skip Beat! fanfic, but I CRACK THE HELL UP every time I reread it:

"Morizumi-san tried to throw you off a building?"

Yeah, I dunno. It’s a gloriously delayed reaction in context and I find it wonderfully absurd, so I wanted to shout that one out, too.

8.  A comment that touched you:

Oh my god, I’ve received so many nice comments this year??? I go back and reread them when I’m having a tough day and just glow. I’ve had a few people tell me things like something I wrote is one of their all-time favorites or that my writing style reminds them of another author I admire and I’m basically ready to crawl under my bed like “Who, me??” I also LIVE FOR the long, detailed comments in which people react to specifics from the story (I have several readers who do this for me and it makes me giddy every time).

One comment in particular does stick out as being far, far too kind and praised me in ways that made me feel insanely flattered and gave me a huge bout of imposter syndrome simultaneously, where they basically performed literary criticism* on one of my chapters and found all this meaning and value in my work that honestly left me a bit embarrassed in a good way. 

*Note: While I personally found this extremely flattering, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend trying this at home if you haven’t received a positive response to it before, because fic is meant to be fun, and unprompted literary critique (especially unsolicited ConCrit) can make some authors feel very hurt or defensive. YMMV of course!!

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

So @floraone ‘adopted’ me into the fandom early this year, and spending so much time with a bunch of wonderful, creative, like-minded people not only saved my mental health in this shitstorm of a year, you all also inspired me to start writing fic again, including in several genres and events I might otherwise have shyed away from. So, I mean, that! You all! I’m so thrilled to be here and so wonderfully delighted to have found this amazing and supportive little fandom corner to play in. Thank you for inspiring me and welcoming me <3

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

I’d say a toss-up between Tinder (writing a whole smutpiece where they are never physically in the same room together is an accomplishment, I’m just saying) and chapter 4 of R. Chapter 4 just came out so friggin’ well, and on the occasions I’ve gone back to reread it I feel very proud of it (whereas Tinder I’m more inclined to nitpick at upon reread). So, one of those!

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

Oh man. I would love to finish R before my birthday (it’s in February so eh, we’ll see). And I’d love to like, not totally lose momentum and fall out of the fandom once I finish R! I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever feel quite this inspired again, so maybe finding something else that makes me want to write like this is a good goal for the year LOL. I’d also love to see if I can top my proudest bit of writing from TDK, and I think that’s a good thing to aspire to - but if I can’t, I get to put it in my wrap-up next year! Okay! So that’s my year in review, but I would love to see some other people do these! I’m not going to tag anyone because most of the people I would tag already have been, but if you see this and want to participate, consider yourself tapped in.

Here’s to the end of 2020, and fingers crossed that the next year runs more smoothly!!