#like what IS a heart burger? what is this name trying to convey?

[secriden]

My favourite thing about the diner being called "Heart Burger" is not only that its a reference/in theme with the title of the show, but it has that energy of being firmly set in a non-English speaking country where English is used in that kind of arbitrary way that only vaguely makes sense.

[jaskiersvalley]

Vulture In Lark’s Clothing

As a rule of thumb, Geralt didn’t ask questions. He assessed a contract from purely his own perspective, whether it was worth his time and danger and, if he deemed it valuable, he took it. No questions asked. No prying into who he was protecting, who he was escorting or why. If the money was good, he did it. It was why people liked him so much, employed him despite his less than sociable demeanour. The job got done and he didn’t fuss, even if he got blood and guts in his hair.

His latest contract was a curious one. Pick someone up from prison and escort them to the other side of the country to a hearing. Allegedly he was a witness but Geralt couldn’t care if it was his own hearing. A job was a job.

There have been many people Geralt had met but not a single one had been quite as exasperating as Jaskier. Who the fuck got arrested with only a lute and some fancy clothes to their name? Jaskier. Obviously. But it was neither here nor there. What mattered was that he was constantly making noise. Wherever he went, the lute did too. Even when Geralt threatened to throw it out the car window, Jaskier had just laughed and began composing a ditty about a tumbleweed crossing a country having more of a personality than Geralt.

The thing that made Geralt so good at his job was his ability to just deal with things without a fuss. He’d picked up on the fact they were being followed a while back. It wasn’t anything to be concerned about just yet. Well, he was concerned but he had it in hand. Their tail was keeping their distance, watching and assessing.

“So, our charming friend has been very thorough in his observations,” Jaskier commented out of the blue as they had stopped to get lunch. The ever present lute was leaning against his chair as he picked through a salad, eating all the onion from it.

“Nothing to worry about.” Geralt replied and munched steadily on his burger.

That night they were in a motel, Jaskier in the bed, Geralt on the sofa. When Geralt woke up suddenly, he tried to figure out what had roused him. A peek into the bedroom and Jaskier wasn’t there. Probably gone to the bathroom but checking there revealed an empty room. Scouting through the kitchen and living room, Geralt was ready to grab his guns and track down the idiot who stole him. To do that, he would need information, namely how some schmuck got into the bedroom and abducted Jaskier from under his nose. Pushing the bedroom door open, Geralt blinked. There was Jaskier, curled up in bed and fast asleep. Maybe Geralt was more tired that he’d thought, to have missed the fact Jaskier was there all along. He returned to the sofa and tucked his guns under the cushion, grumbling. Weirdly enough, their tail was gone the next morning.

One problem with Jaskier (well, one of the many) was the fact that he was so soft. Always demanding they stop over night somewhere with a decent bed, getting stroppy when they only bought food from a petrol station, he even went as far as kicking up a fuss when they hadn’t had the chance to shower for three days. How he survived in prison was beyond Geralt. He wouldn’t ask though, that wasn’t his place and asking meant he might actually care. Which he most certainly didn’t.

A spot of trouble happened at one of the restaurants they had stopped off at. A group of idiots had taken quite a dislike to Jaskier singing in the corner while Geralt ordered at the bar. They were closing in on him and Geralt could hear his name being called. To cut a violent story short, the men didn’t end up bothering Jaskier. But the price of that was being barred from the restaurant. From in front of the door they had just been thrown through, Jaskier turned, hands in the air as he cursed them, threatened to write a scathing song and leave a very rude review online. Silently, Geralt wiped the blood from his knuckles and walked towards the car. This job was starting be much more of a hassle than worth.

At least, he thought that until Jaskier turned his flirting to Geralt. It had been common enough for Jaskier to wink and compliment his way through any establishment they set foot in. Praise for the receptionist at the motel, a smile filled with promise to the attendant at the petrol station, he even had the gall to blatantly and appreciatively give the cleaner of the restaurant bathroom once over the one time. As an outsider, Geralt found it charmingly sleazy. But even he couldn’t deny that it was worth the small upgrades he would never have got before.

“You never know who you’re meeting,” Jaskier had reasoned.

The attention Jaskier started paying Geralt was awkward at first. Geralt had no idea what to do. He’d seen Jaskier go through the motions umpteen times before, knew it didn’t mean anything. And yet, he wanted to feel as special as Jaskier suggested he was. Which was just ludicrous, Geralt didn’t need someone’s approval or appreciation. Especially not from an incompetent criminal who got caught. And couldn’t even protect himself from a bunch of idiots at a restaurant. What Geralt missed was the news article about the murder or four men in the town they had just left behind, throats slit.

Whoever Jaskier was, Geralt was starting to realise that he was more important that he thought before. The closer they got to their destination, the more trouble they ran into. Not just people trailing after them now but actual attempts on Jaskier’s life. As if the idiot had actually realised. He merrily strutted through the world as if it was the safest place, strumming his lute and humming. And flirting. Always flirting, even with the pigeons by his feet if the mood took. Yet, Geralt still felt a warmth spreading through him whenever Jaskier smiled at him. It seemed like a special smile, warmer and even more sincere than the ones he gave everyone else. It made Geralt feel alarmingly disarmed in the face of it.

He’d just finished mopping up a trail of people after Jaskier who flounced through little side streets without a worry. This was the reason Geralt liked to wear black clothes, they didn’t show up anywhere near as much blood. Though, to be fair, he did try to just knock people out first. A warning of sorts that if they got near again, he could and would do so much worse.

“Ah! Geralt! I was wondering where you got to.” Jaskier skipped towards him. Actually skipped.

“I had business to take care of.” What he didn’t expect was for Jaskier to push his lute onto his back and stand almost nose to nose with him.

“My wonderful White Wolf, always keeping an eye out for me,” he breathed, eyes flicking to Geralt’s lips. As if Geralt wasn’t paid to keep him alive. It sure as shit wasn’t Geralt doing this out of the goodness of his heart. All thoughts however flew from his mind as Jaskier tugged him in for a kiss. There was a hand in his hair, a tongue in his mouth and a hand drifted over his hip.

The sound of a gun going off was deafening and Geralt froze, eyes opening to see Jaskier, eyes open and staring past Geralt’s head even as they kissed. Pulling away, Geralt looked over his shoulder. There was a body sprawled on the ground, very obviously dead. And Jaskier’s arm was still out, gun in hand.

“I think you missed one,” Jaskier smiled merrily as if he hadn’t just shot someone in a back alley. There was no response to that, Geralt’s brain was a blank static as he tried to realign his opinion or Jaskier with this new information.

“What?” That was going to have to do. It conveyed everything and Jaskier liked to talk anyway.

As expected, Jaskier laughed lightly and tucked the gun he’d slipped from Geralt’s hip back into its holster and patted his cheek fondly. “Well, you’ve been doing such a great job of taking care of the bumps along the road, I didn’t see the need to intervene most of the time.”

The ‘most of the time’ had Geralt’s hackles rising. He was damn good at his job and didn’t need some two-bit idiot claiming to step in to mop up after him. He growled low in his throat, a noise that usually sent most people scattering in fear. However, Jaskier just laughed in his face and called him cute, proceeded to plant another kiss on Geralt’s lips and turned to continue his journey, expecting Geralt to trail after him.

Things didn’t get easier after that. Geralt was trying his best to keep professional and not ask anything about just who Jaskier was. But it wasn’t very professional to fall into bed with Jaskier at any chance he got. Motel bed, bathroom stall, once even in the car, pulled over on the side of the road. It was messy but so damn satisfying.

As always, things went tits up three hours before they got to their destination. There was a car chase that ended with Jaskier hanging out the window of their car and taking alarmingly good potshots at their attackers. They worked in tandem with more ease than Geralt had ever experienced with anyone. While he was on the offensive, Jaskier was restocking in more and more creative ways. He sent a Molotov cocktail of, actually, Geralt didn’t want to think about what he found in the hardware shop to use for that. It exploded, there were screams and they had a window of opportunity to run.

In a way, Geralt almost regretted it. Because while he was loading his guns, Jaskier was hurling hammers, wielding circular saw blades like his personal throwing stars and causing a rather gory mess. At least Geralt managed to wrangle the chainsaw from his grip before he went into a full on fight with that. It was the moment Geralt understood how Jaskier survived prison.

Outside the courtroom, Geralt turned to Jaskier, finally asking the question he had been wanting to all along.

“Who the hell are you?”

It was met with a delighted laugh. “Ever heard of The Bard?�� Geralt shook his head. “Little Lark?” Another shake of his head and Jaskier looked both exhilarated and aghast. “The hitman of the century? The singing killer? No?”

“No.” Geralt shook his head.

“In which case,” Jaskier stuck his head out, “I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.”

“Oh,” Geralt heard that name before. “The one with all the sheep.”

Another light laugh and Jaskier nodded. “The one with all the sheep. Well, thank you for your help in escorting me across the country. I must go, take a plea deal. But be in Blaviken in a year. There’s a dear little cafe there, order me one of their chocolate twists and a cold chocolate for an 11 o’clock date. I’ll meet you there.”

Sure enough, Jaskier took a plea deal, his sentence was reduced from life to twenty-five years. How he thought he’d be in Blaviken a year on, Geralt couldn’t fathom. But once he got the chance, he sat down and did his research, to find out who exactly he had travelled with. And swallowed thickly in fear and awe. Because oh fuck, Jaskier had history and a list of kills longer than Geralt. And those were just the confirmed ones. Fuck.

Despite everything pointing towards the fact that Jaskier was in prison and with no way out, Geralt couldn’t help the small burning ball of hope in his chest. A year after the trial, he made his way to Blaviken. Even wore nicer clothes and brushed his hair - Jaskier had said it was a date after all. It felt a little silly to order for two when there was no chance his date would make it. But still, a coffee and blueberry muffin for himself, and a chocolate twist and cold chocolate for Jaskier.

Settling in the darkest corner of the cafe, Geralt sat back and waited. A shadow fell across his table and he looked up.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” a familiar voice greeted him. For the first time in a long while, Geralt smiled.

[the-flowerwolf]

"Happy Birthday"

A/N: @captainwanderlust78 HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!!💙💙💙 I'm really bad at congratulations, so don't mind me. Jake can say it for me. Hope you will like it!

Jake x fem!MC

It was a special day. Her birthday.

Bella woke up late - last night, as soon as the clock struck midnight, she was showered with numerous congratulations. She barely managed to escape to bed a couple of hours later.

And since she had a completely free day, she decided that today she would do whatever her heart desires. Bella lay in bed, hanging in her phone. People were still congratulating her. Then she got up and sauntered into the kitchen.

The first thing that caught her eye was a huge bouquet that stood in the middle of the table. Bella smiled happily and walked over to it, noticing that there was also a cute Teddy bear and a beautiful sealed envelope.

She opened the letter.

"My love,

Most of all, on this special day, I would like to Wake up with you. I hope that your day goes well and that you enjoy this little surprise. Your favorite breakfast is waiting for you in the refrigerator. I know I'm not the best cook, but I tried ;)

We'll see in the evening. But to find out where exactly, you will have to solve a couple of riddles. Good luck and happy birthday!

Yours,

Jake"

Bella laughed. Jake is so Jake. But where should she start?

Bella carefully examined the letter and envelope, but nothing. There were no more notes. Then she picked up the bear. At one end of his bow was an inscription. Bella looked at her closely. It was like... Coordinates. Did Jake decide to limit himself to just one simple riddle this time? Bella decided to check out the place as soon as she ate her breakfast.

A couple of hours later, she was standing in the middle of the street, looking at the fashionable sign of a Atelier. Maybe the wrong address? Or were they really not coordinates, but something else? Bella decided to find out for sure. She pushed open the door and went inside.

The place was filled with a special atmosphere that immediately sunk into her soul. It was so cozy and peaceful... And even if Jake didn't really want to bring her here, Bella was glad she ended up here.

The sound of the bell immediately attracted the attention of a nice old woman who had been busy canceling a piece of cloth. She looked up and immediately smiled. Bella smiled back, but as soon as she wanted to say something, the woman's eyes and smile widened.

"Oh, it's you, honey! I hardly recognized you! You look even more beautiful in real life!"

This baffled Bella.

"You know me?"

The woman chuckled like she knew something that Bella didn't. Although, apparently, she really did.

"This cute boy showed me your photo when he came in here. And said the exact date when I should wait for you."

Bella chuckled. Yes, that was Jake's style.

"Come on, honey," the woman said, disappearing through a door in another part of the atelier, "I have something for you."

Bella ran after her. They entered the room with a whole bunch of clothes that were custom-made and that were still in the process. The woman disappeared among the mannequins, trying to find something.

"How do you like my place?" She asked.

"Is this your atelier?"

Woman laughed.

"Of course! Whose else could it be? My name is Beverly."

Bella found it odd that the name of the atelier was named as "Rose's place", but the owner's name was Beverly, but she decided not to ask any questions.

"My name is Bella."

"Your name really suits you, Bella... I bet it was here... Ah, there it is!"

Beverly returned, and Bella gave a little cry of delight. In her hand hung an extremely beautiful dress in the style of the 50s.

Beverly smiled at the reaction.

"I'm glad you like it, because it's yours now."

"Mine?" Bella asked incredulously. Did Jake do this for her?

"Of course yours, whose else! Now go, honey, or you'll be late for dinner!"

Still in shock, Bella didn't immediately understand what Beverly was saying.

"Dinner? Oh, right! Dinner!"

Beverly shook her head and smiled. Bella started to walk out of the atelier, thanking and saying goodbye to the woman at every step. As she reached for the door handle, Beverly suddenly called out to her.

"And one more thing, dear! If you need anything else, go to the Hills. We're moving in soon."

"Oh? And what's the address?"

Beverly waved her hand.

"You think I know? You'll find it on the Internet! Now go, don't keep your boyfriend waiting!"

When Bella got home, she started packing hard. The dress fit perfectly and she felt great in it. She had matching shoes and jewelry that she had long wanted to wear somewhere.

The evening was approaching, and as soon as the preparations were completed, Bella realized that she did not know where to go.

She texted Jake. Then again. And again. No answer. He also did not answer calls.

Bella was about to fall into despair when she suddenly remembered the riddles. There must be another one! But no matter how much she turned the apartment upside down, there was nothing there. Bella sank wearily into a chair. How should she solve this riddle?

Then Bella remembered.

She opened her laptop and started typing words into the search engine.

"Beverly Hills"

No, she doesn't need a city, thank you, Google...

"Beverly Hills new York"

Bella smiled. She knew where to go.

***

The place was just as special as the guy who was waiting for her there.

It was a cafe in the style of the 50s, in red and white colors and bright lighting.

Which was called "Beverly Hills".

Bella had long wanted to go to a place like this, but couldn't get around to it. So, Jake decided to take her here. On her birthday. She could have kissed him.

Friday night, the cafe was crowded. People were eating, talking loudly, and putting their heads in front of each other. But she noticed him immediately.

Jake was sitting in the far corner by the window, his back to her. He sat in his hood, watching life unfold outside the window. Bella walked over to him, a loving smile on her face.

"You and your riddles," she said, stopping behind him. Jake shuddered and turned around. Fear immediately turned to joy.

"I thought you liked my riddles," he was jokingly offended.

Bella giggled and kissed him on the lips before sitting down across from him.

"I love them!"

Jake seemed nervous.

"Did you like my gift?" He asked hopefully.

"I'm delighted!" She answered honestly, "Thank you very much! This is the best gift of all!"

Jake blushed and smiled.

"I'm glad you liked it."

A waitress came up to them. She was wearing a typical old uniform.

"What do you want to eat?"

Jake and Bella exchanged amused glances. They knew exactly what they were going to order. Jake turned to the waitress.

"Two Burger menus, one strawberry milkshake and one chocolate, please."

When the waitress left, the lovers turned back to each other. Their hands are on the table, fingers intertwined.

"How was your day?" Bella asked.

"Absolutely not the same without you."

Bella let out a chuckle. Now it was her turn to blush. Jake smiled.

"I haven't told you happy birthday today yet, so... Happy birthday!"

They laughed softly, but the amusement on Jake's face quickly turned serious. Bella was worried.

"I want to tell you something..."

"Oh God. You want to break up?"

"No, I..."

"The FBI found you?!"

Jake shushed and quickly turned around.

"Not so loud."

"Sorry... "

Jake smiled. He looked into her eyes and there was so much tenderness and love in them... How she wished he would always look at her like that.

"Hey. That's all right. I just wanted to say... I don't really like congratulations. I do not know what to say to others in such cases, and I feel false when they congratulate me. But right here and right now, I want you to know. I love you. The day we met was the second best day of my life."

Bella raised an eyebrow.

"The second?"

Jake smiled.

"The first one is the day you were born."

Bella chuckled.

"How can this be your best day? We didn't even know each other back then."

"You see, if I had the choice to cancel one of these days while still remembering everything... I would have chosen the day we met. It would break my heart, but at least I'd know you were out there somewhere, enjoying your life. But I can't imagine a world without you in it."

Bella squeezed his hand harder.

"I can't imagine a world without you in it either."

Jake lifted his other hand and ran his thumb over her cheek.

"One more thing. Like I said, I'm bad at congratulations. However, I will say something. I think you deserve the whole world. You are an amazing person, an amazing woman, a wonderful mother. The world is brighter because of you. I believe that whatever challenges life has in store for you, you will cope with everything. I appreciate you for who you are. And remember that I'm always here if you need me. Anytime. No matter what happens."

"Your order."

Lovers shuddered. The waitress placed the order on the table.

"Bon appetit," she said and left again.

Jake and Bella stared after her for a moment, then turned to each other and laughed again.

"That was weird."

"Yeah, that's for sure..."

Jake, still continuing to laugh, he took burger in his hands.

"I've heard their food is very good, and I really hope the rumors are true..."

"Jake?"

He looked up from his story.

"Yes, my love?"

Bella looked into his eyes, trying to convey all the feelings that were boiling in her.

"Thank you. You know for what exactly."

Jake smiled and winked.

"Yes. I know."

The food was really great, although they didn't really notice it. The lovers chatted about everything, not noticing how dark it was outside the window, or how people began to gradually leave the cafe. They just couldn't focus on someone or something else, even if they wanted to. It was just their night.

At some point, Jake got up from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Bella asked in surprise.

Instead of answering, he gave her a sly look and went to the other side of the cafe. Now she understood what he was up to.

"Oh no, you won't." She said softly, chuckling.

But he did do it. The jukebox started up and Jake turned to her, starting to dance a little. A song started playing. It was "Can't help falling in love with you" by Elvis Presley. The few remaining visitors turned in surprise toward the sound.

Jake slowly returned to her, a small smile on his lips. He held out his hand.

"My lady."

"You really want to dance? In the middle of a cafe?"

Jake shrugged carelessly.

"Why not? Do you suddenly care what other people think of you, Bella?"

She snorted.

"No, of course not. But what about you? Weren't you the one who said that you should not draw too much attention to yourself?"

"Well, what can I say, you've always affected me... like this."

Bella giggled.

"And I'm not sorry."

Jake's smile widened.

"I noticed that. Now take my hand, please. This is getting awkward."

She took his hand and he led her to the side of the cafe where there was the most space available.

Jake pulled her to him, putting one hand on her waist. The other still held her hand. Bella put her arm around his neck. They began to slowly circle in a slow dance.

"I love this song." Jake said softly. And, much to her surprise, he began to hum the lines so softly that only she could hear.

"Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you"

The song ended quickly, but the lovers were in no hurry to let go of each other.

"Maybe we should stop standing in the middle of a cafe like this," he said.

"Just another minute..."

Jake laughed quietly.

"Okay. Just a minute."

***

After paying, they went home. The cafe was located not far from their flat, the weather was fine, so the lovers decided to walk.

But when they were almost home, Jake turned the other way.

"Where are you going?"

"Let's go!"

Bella good-naturedly rolled her eyes.

"You and your riddles again."

They entered a small pastry shop. Bella's mouth watered. Yes, they ate just recently, but sweets don't count! You can always eat them. And then there was such an assortment! And the smell!

Jake walked over to the cashier and gave him a name. A fake one, of course. The cashier left, but soon returned with a box in his hands. Jake paid and picked up the goods and went to the door. Bella hurried after him. Her eyes were shone.

"What is it, what is it?"

Jake smiled slyly.

"You'll see when we get home."

Bella snorted.

"You and your mystique," she muttered.

Jake laughed.

***

When they got home, Bella went to open the box first. Jake went into a living room and turned on a TV. He tried to turn on Netflix until he heard a squeal and felt his girlfriend hanging on to him.

"My favorite cake, thank you, thank you!"

This completely baffled Jake.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're happy, but I ordered you a dress, took you to a cafe you've been wanting to go to for a long time, and you snapped at me for a... Cake?"

Bella giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"The cake wasn't the best part, silly. It's just that this day is getting better and better and it's all thanks to you!"

Jake smiled happily.

"I'm glad you like it. So, what do you want to watch?"

Bella gave him a sly look. Jake turned pale.

"Oh no..."

"Oh yes."

"Bella, please!"

"Jake, please! It's my birthday!"

She looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. Jake sighed.

"Okay," he said, looking for the movie, "I can't believe I'm going to watch After. Again."

Bella giggled.

"I love you too, darling!"

They took their drinks, cut the cake, and sat on a couch with their arms around each other, and started watching.

"You just like this sugary actor," he muttered resentfully.

"He may be beautiful..." Jake choked with indignation, "but he's not as hot as you, my love."

Jake, for the sake of decency, looked at her with an offended look for a few more moments, but then he couldn't help but smile.

"You think I'm hot?" He asked slyly.

Bella brought her face close to his.

"Take me to the bedroom and find out how much," she whispered.

And Jake did so.

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

The Many Faces of the Strong Female Character

The much-requested, positive counterpart to my classic “Female Characters to Avoid in Your Writing” and it’s much-later sequel.  

Here, I will discuss some of my favorite fictional ladies and what makes them work so well;  given my rapturous love of women, there will probably be a sequel!  In the meantime, I talk more about portraying female characters here.

Happy writing, everybody!  <3

1.)  The Warrior

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When most people hear “strong female character,” they picture the most popular definition of the term:  a stony-faced, emotionally shallow, conventionally attractive broad who punches and kicks stuff.  She may occasionally shout things like, “I DON’T NEED NO MAN,” while perhaps punching a small baby. 

I decided to start with my wife Diana, because she is the perfect antithesis of this trope.  She isn’t stony, she’s courageous.  She’s unabashed about showing her doubts, hopes, affections, and optimism.  Her love interest never steals her spotlight, but she feels no need to shun romance to appear “strong.”  She’s beautiful, but not sexualized or objectified.

And while most Strong Female Characters™ are ironically reduced to damsels in distress at some point in their own narratives, Diana consistently takes the lead, totally autonomous over her own story.

You can kick ass AND love babies, people.  Joss Whedon, please take notes.

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Other examples:  Okoye from Black Panther, Furiosa from Mad Max: Fury Road, Rey from Star Wars, and Ser Brienne of Tarth from Game of Thrones.

2.)  The Comedian

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If you haven’t watched Chewing Gum on Netflix, stop whatever you’re doing and watch it right now.  Its relatively simple premise – a twenty-four-year-old from a fundamentalist Christian household struggles to lose her virginity – is a segway into a hilarious, genuine exploration of human sexuality, relationships, and how we forge our identities.

Brilliantly portrayed by the series’ creator, Michaela Coel, Tracy is essentially that one friend who knows exactly what you’ve been thinking and isn’t afraid to say so.  She is never relegated to a single trope or stereotype.  She’s stumbling, clumsily but enthusiastically, through the life experiences that shape us.  Most importantly, she is allowed to be sexually curious, awkward, aggressive, insecure, and – I can’t stress this enough – hilarious.  The dialogue is infinitely quotable, and endlessly relatable. 

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Watching shows like Chewing Gum makes me realize how few female characters – and even fe wer Black female characters – are portrayed as truly human.  Typically, they’re allowed to be sexy, but not sexual.  They’re allowed to be awkward, but only if it’s cute.  They can be insecure, but only if that insecurity can easily be solved by the affirmations of a male love interest.  And they’re rarely allowed to be the main source of a series’ comedy.  

So remember:  let your female characters be human.  Let them be awkward, funny, sexual philosophers.  It’s easier than you think.  

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Other examples:  Abbi and Ilan from Broad City, Leslie from Parks and Rec, Tina from Bob’s Burgers.

3.)  The Drama Queen

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Watching Riverdale is like hurtling along on a structurally unstable rollercoaster.  It’s utterly insane, a lot of fun, and once you’re on, you can’t stop.

But amidst the explosions of batshit crazy plot points, killer cults, and the existential perplexity of finding yourself attracted to emo Jughead, there are some real gems.  One of these is Cheryl Blossom, and pretty much every plot line surrounding her.

Cheryl is introduced as a fairly one-dimensional, catty mean girl, though the Regina George-esque charisma with which she’s portrayed makes her instantly likable.  Initially, we expect her to be a character we’ll love to hate.

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And yet, within the first few episodes, I was impressed by how layered and complex her motivations were.  Much of contempt towards others was misdirected rage from an upbringing of extreme emotional abuse, and grief over her dead brother -- all portrayed without a Snape-style condonation of said behavior.  By the end of season one, my thoughts were generally, “Oh, crap, I don’t think I can claim to be watching this ‘ironically’ anymore,” and “MORE CHERYL.”

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Season two answered my wish, and then some.  Cheryl was saved from an (impressively conscientiously portrayed) attempt at sexual assault by a pack of her female friends, and her attacker got the shit beat out of him in one of the most cathartic moments of modern television.

To the exaltation of my queer heart, she also came out as a lesbian, in a deeply moving story arc that I never would have expected from this show.  Without spoiling too much, she and her new love interest kissing in front of anti-gay propaganda footage was legitimately one of the most powerful moments I have ever witnessed.

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Before the season was over, she viciously threatened her abusive, homophobic mother while covered in blood, shot a serial killer with a bow and arrow, and joined a gang.  If that’s not gay culture, I don’t know what is.

Oh, how I wish this show was just about her.

Other examples:  Alexis from Schitt’s Creek.

4.)  The Lovable Bastard

(Gif source)

Ah, The Good Place.  I have never experienced such a breath of comedic fresh air.  A new philosophical principle each episode, examined and applied in hilarious and thought-provoking ways.  A complete absence of harmful stereotypes.  Incredibly lovable, three-dimensional, and ever-evolving characters. 

I was considering using my queen Tahani for this list, who externally larger-than-life and internally vulnerable after emotional abuse by her parents.  Also, she’s hilarious.  Everyone and everything in The Good Place is hilarious.  And I also thought about talking about Janet, who is the best character in anything ever, but of course:

(Gif source)

Instead, I’ll be talking about bisexual icon Eleanor, who is something very few female characters get to be:  the lovable bastard.

(Gif source)

Eleanor, when we first meet her, is not traditionally good in any sense of the word.  She turned down a high-paying job because she was expected to be nice to people.  She sold placebos to the elderly, and was great at it.  She was drunken, slovenly, hedonistic, and selfish.  And she’s instantly incredibly likable.

Why and how Eleanor is so enjoyable, even at her very worst, merits an essay all its own.  But in a nutshell:

We empathize with her.  We are introduced to “The Good Place” completely through her eyes.  We are in her shoes.  

The stakes are high.  When we discover that her entry into the good place was a mistake, we want her to be okay.

We come to understand her, and how her terrible childhood shaped her destructive behavior.  

She wants to be a better person, and with time, effort, and character development, we watch her become one. 

Not only is this an amazing lesson in how to endear audiences to your character, it is also infinitely refreshing.  The most famous lovable bastards are all men --  Han Solo, Dr. House, Captain Jack Sparrow, the Man With No Name, et cetera -- but women are rarely afforded the same moral complexity.  If a woman in fiction has done bad things, she’s not usually a lovable bastard.  She’s usually a bitch. 

Eleanor isn’t just a great character.  She conveys an important lesson:  women are people.  People with the same capacity for mistakes, growth, redemption, and love as anyone else.

(Image source)

Other examples: Chloe from Don’t Trust the B*tch in Apartment 23

5.)  The Cinderella

(Gif source)

Yep.  I said it.  Cinderella is a strong female character.

My girl not only survived in an abusive household, she persistently stayed positive.  She worked each day to make the best of an impossible situation, from which she had no means of escape.  That takes an insane amount of courage and tenacity. 

But Caff, I hear you scream, she needed help to escape!!  Well, my imaginary counterargument, so the fuck what?  MOST people need help to escape their abusive situations, and there’s no shame in that.  Accepting help from someone you trust is the best thing you can do in a situation such as that, and implying otherwise is horribly damaging to victims of abuse.  

But she married the prince, you more feebly protest.  Yes!  She did!  She found love and happiness and a great life in a socially influential position!  And that’s an amazing message!

So in the flurry of female warriors, let’s not forget Cinderella, who tells people that their terrible circumstances won’t last forever, to stay hopeful and kind, and that accepting help from a trusted friend can lead to a happy life.  

Cinderella is a bad bitch, and she deserves her happily ever after.

(Gif source)

Other examples:  For some reason, I’m thinking of Sansa from Game of Thrones.  When people try to discredit her as a strong character, they often make similar complaints.  But both, quite fittingly, end up as queens.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

It was a love story from the very beginning

Vol. LXXI

Don't You Love Me?

(11x19)

Hi everyone! How are you? This is another piece from this adventure, it has more than one year and we reached and passed volume 70th!! I'm so glad you are still reading my nonsenses, and keep sharing my ramblings. Thank you! So much hard work rewatching and taking notes is worth it if you are reading this on the other side! 💕💕

Are you ready for the angst? Let's do this!

Worried about Cas

After seeing with his own eyes that Castiel didn't want to be rescued, that he really wanted to be used by Lucifer so they could defeat Amara, Dean stays all night long awake, trying to find a way to rescue him now from Amara, who has Casifer prisoner.

With a heart broken again, and worried because Amara could kill Cas anytime, Dean can't sleep. First if all, the pain in his heart for being rejected again, is too big, and the idea of loosing Cas for ever, to see the man he loves die, terrifies him.

So the first dialogue between Dean and Sam shows us all of that.

Gif credit @subcas

Sam: Dude, you even move since last night?

Is the first words we heard from Sam, and is showing to the audience a very important point: why Dean didn't moved the whole time? It means that when Sam went to bed, he was in the same spot. Is saying Dean didn't slept that night. He didn't move from that chair, trying to find Cas. A very important point to show how much Dean cares about Cas.

Dean: [tiredly] Sleeping is the new smoking.

Sam: What? No, it’s not. It’s sitting. Sitting is the new smoking.

Dean: That’s can’t be right.

Okay, this could be an innocent quote, Dean mistaking the famous phrase, but is not. Dean is relating the quote to DEPRESSION, that's why he names SLEEPING to SMOKING, because he's talking about depression. But when Sam relates this with SITTING, which we know is talking about other kind of diseases, Diabetes, hypertension, etc, Dean says 'THAT'S CAN'T RIGHT' because those are not meanings he was looking for, he wasn't talking about those diseases, that's why he didn't talk about sitting/sedentariness, but sleeping/depression. Because he was feeling that way.

Sam: Dean, we’ll find Cas, okay? He’s stronger that he looks.

And because Sammy knows, he knows why Dean is in that shape: Cas.

Dean: You know, we gambled with Cas, and now Amara has him.

Sam: For a reason, which means he’s still alive.

Dean is spitting out his fears right there, but not all the fears he was ruminating the whole night, and Sam is trying to give to each depressing thought a light of hopes, to make his brother to feel better.

Dean: [shakes his head] I’ve been with Amara. Her beef is with the big guys … with God, with Lucifer. The small fries, even an angel like Cas, doesn’t even register. And if it meant hurting Lucifer, killing Cas would mean nothing to her.

Another thought flying in his mind, he is afraid Amara could kill Cas.

Sam: It’s been a week. We’ve still got no leads.

Dean: You think I don’t know that? [rises from the chair]

So we just had three thoughts that kept Dean awake the whole night: HE DIDN'T NOTICED CAS WOULD SAY YES TO LUCIFER, HE KNOWS AMARA COULD KILL HIM ANYTIME, AND IT'S BEEN A WEEK! It's been a week, which means, Dean had been an entire week in this shape, without sleeping and worried about him.

Knowing this, let's jump to the other point.

Worrisome+heart broken

Repressing all the feelings again

I just want you to recall a timeline about Dean's perceptions of Cas feelings for him. If you read my previous metas From season 5+6, 8, 9 and 10, you would be aware of the following facts:

- Finale S5: Cas flew away from the car without saying goodbye to Dean. Dean went to Lisa and never contacted Cas (feeling kind of offended) until Sam said Cas wasn't answering to his prayers.

-S8: After the crypt scene, Dean felt rejected.

-S9: Road Trip episode: Castiel comforted Dean as a lover, with devoted words and supportive looks.

-s10: After Dean came back from being a demon, Castiel names a female in his car waiting for him, and Dean reacts like a jilted lover, and the episode after that is using OOC a blind dates app.

And now... We have a rejected Dean, because Cas didn't want to be rescued by him. Again. Like in Purgatory. So... Time to repress the feeling even more... And we had 11x19 'The Chitters' talking about that.

This is gonna be a very huge mis if symbolism in just one monster. First of all, we have the description of the eyes...

Cori: [hesitates] The thing that took Libby was naked and pale. Except for the eyes. I swear to God, they flashed green for a second.

Okay, I'm the crazy old lady of colors, so you know what I'm gonna point here: GREEN is DEAN. Keep that in mind...

Cori: It was shaped like a man. Or was it a woman?

Dean: [curiously] Was it a man or a woman?

Cori: It didn’t have a … [points downward with her fingers]

Dean: A penis?

Cori: [wide-eyed] It didn’t have anything.

Dean: What you’re saying it was junkless?

Cori: Completely.

Second thing I want you to recall is... This monster has not genre, first thing Dean thought about angels, remember? But we learned, same angel can take different genres of vessels. Because they are utterly indifferent to sexuality. Just pointing here that this characteristic is related to angels, in Dean's mind junkless, and in canon with Raphael and even Castiel taking male and female vessel. Keep this facts in mind too...

This monster took a vessel too to copulate, into a very huge orgy. Lest's take a piece of the dialogue between the Winchester and one of the residents who lost his husband.

Etta: Oh, yeah [nods]. Gran said that if you got the chitters, you get so revved up with lust that your eyes would shine like emeralds 

So, time to convey all these facts...

This is representing two important things: Green eyes talks about Dean, so, this junkless monster that search's for a vessel to copulate represents angels. They are presenting this chitter as something filthy, and people doing insane, sinful things (the orgies) Is something BAD AND FILTHY, as we will see in the next scene, but pay attention to these two conclusions: Dean thinks he doesn't deserve Cas, he thinks Cas is not interested romantically on him. So he repressed his feelings (including lust and shame of daring to love a celestial and pure creature, and passion too because is part of being in love). Second, we have the angels and their Sacred Oath, they can't bond with humans physically, we talked about this in season 8 with the tests Castiel had to achieve to close Heaven and we will talk about this in s12 too. If angels have sex with humans, both deserve to die because IS DEFINITELY NOT ALLOWED. So the cause of those forbidden feelings in Castiel has GREEN EYES.

Last thing i want to point is one of Cochrane's quote, when he was talking about her daughter and the people that had died 30 years ago...

Cochran: Yeah, better to bury it. [voice cracks] All of it.

The angst from this scene is huge, but the phrase I marked here, plus all the things we were talking about SHAME/REPRESSED FEELINGS, is showing us how finally Dean, brokenhearted as he is right now, were thinking all of this things these nights he was awake, plus the depression of not seeing Cas in bad shape saying yes to Lucy, plus the fear of lose him for ever.

And finally, to show you this entire "Chitters'" thing was about and angel and a human in love... I will turn this scene into a Destiel one...

Gif credit @spacedudeee

Because who's the sinner? And who's the rebel?

Do I have to answer that? Okay, DEAN AND CAS. Sinner and Rebel. Can a sinner, with shame inside, feel that he deserves a love of an angel? And can a rebel angel allow himself to love a human with such passion?

Again, this episode was a huge Dean's POV...

I think I explained my point here... Let's jump to the easy part 🤣🤣

Jesse and Cesar: What we want for Destiel

This is a canon fact very well known for the fandom, Jesse as Dean mirror and Cesar as Castiel.

Both men were a reflection of what Dean really wants in his heart, his curiosity spoke by itself when he asked

Gif credit @mooseleys

Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter?

Is expressing perfectly his deep desires. And seeing them both together, supporting each other, and being a real couple, was very important to his self discovering. Two badass Manly men that fell in love with each other.

It wasn't casual writers decided to team up Cesar with Dean and Jesse with Sam, it was like a picture of Dean talking with Cas about himself, and Sam talking with Dean about their childhood traumas.

It was a very beautiful gesture of Dean to not disturb them asking them for help with Amara, because he knew about their plans of retirement. And this is talking about another wish in Dean's heart: retirement with his beloved.

Gif credit @thejabberwock

To Conclude:

Episode 11x19 was about everything Dean has playing in his mind: Fears of loosing Cas, shame for loving him and feeling he doesn't deserve him. His fantasies about what Cas thinks about him, or worst, about him being in love with him. And how he decided to repress all of it again, because he felt rejected again by the angel, and that's why he will start saying We and not I.

It also presents Sacred Oath for angels, a very important topic for the next season.

And we had Jesse and Cesar, Destiel beautiful mirror, talking about Dean's deep desire. And what we want for Destiel.

Hope you like this meta! See you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@imjustkipping @destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From s11, here you have the links:

Vol. LXII, LXIII, LXIV, LXV, LXVI, LXVII, LXVIII, LXIX. LXX.

Buenos Aires July 21th 2020 6:34 PM

[dancedance-resolution]

Supercorptober Day 7: Yellow

another on time fic 😎😎 /s. fluff, 1k. tw: food.

Read on AO3

///

It started out rather innocuously. Nia showed Kara that new “search for emojis” feature in the iOS update, and next thing they all knew, Kara was going just a little bit crazy with the emoji usage (to put it nicely.)

Kara’s best friend, on the other hand, refused to use any emoji—other than the red heart—out of principle. (When asked, Lena would struggle to name the exact principle on which her objection to emojis held its foundations. However, she insisted it was a matter of principle all the same.) The red heart, even, had been a mere accident; Lena was texting with Kara and truly had no idea what to say, so she sent the red heart out of a schoolgirl-like panic. (No, let’s not dwell on the implications of that feeling.)

It’s not that Lena is anti-emoji, per se. It’s just that she’s so prone to misinterpreting them—like, who knew that one emoji with the teeth meant awkward uncomfortable cringe? Lena just thought it was a tooth-y smile. And the one that was blushing with big eyes? Lena assumed that one conveyed fear, but then Nia started explaining how that one oftentimes represented horniness and well—

Lena simply was not a fan of emojis. Sue her.

Now, Kara’s moderate emoji use had never bothered Lena. Her repertoire was pretty limited to hearts, smiles, and flowers, and they always communicated happiness, appreciation, platonic love, or some other positive emotion.

But things had escalated rather quickly after Nia introduced Kara to that emoji search feature.

Soon, Lena’s iMessage app was filled with texts that looked rather like those sarcastic tumblr text posts Nia would always send her. A random basket emoji here, an unnecessary yarn ball emoji there, a confusing turkey emoji here, a mildly obnoxious woman-getting-haircut emoji there.

Its onset was swift, and honestly a bit much for Lena, who struggled to do so much as open a Spotify playlist. (Lena always said that when you’re the hands-on CEO of a billion-dollar tech company, you get a pass on understanding the mundane stuff like how to pause a YouTube video without closing out of the whole tab.

Yes, she recognized that her admittedly amusing technology struggles were a poor excuse for disliking the receipt of emojis, but she proudly bore the distaste nonetheless.)

There was one emoji in particular that Kara seemed to employ in nearly every text she sent Lena: a borderline art deco Sun, with black eyes, a defined nose, and a polite smile. It appeared to Lena that the Sun delivered no practical meaning or message; Kara simply enjoyed placing that damned Sun emoji at the end of every single text.

Every single text (!).

And god, how that should annoy Lena. But.

It also happened to possibly be one of the most endearing things Kara had ever done. She could picture it, Kara sitting there with her eager, puppy-dog smile as she habitually and relentlessly attached that sunshine emoji at the end of every text, just to try to brighten Lena’s day. She was caring like that, a bit enamoring in her ways, and Lena couldn’t help but blush and bite back a begrudging smile with each Sun emoji she received.

However, Lena was nothing if not stubborn and petty. Blame it on the upbringing, blame it on the Luthor blood, whatever.

So she exacted a precise plan for revenge. With Nia’s puzzled but unquestioning assistance, Lena located the mirroring Moon emoji and began attaching it to each and every text she sent to Kara, as if it were some psychopathic ritual.

It took Kara thirteen days to notice.

“OMG wait, I just realized, you started using a new emoji!!!” her text exclaimed gleefully, following that statement with various smiling emojis, a dog emoji, two fairy emojis, and, of course, the infamous Sun emoji.

Though she wouldn’t admit it, Lena smiled softly. “We’re still on for lunch today, right?” she typed before tapping on the Moon emoji and pressed send.

“Of course!” Two heart emojis, red and blue, and the Sun emoji stared back at her.

---

“I am so proud of you, Lena,” Kara started, mouth half full with an egregiously large bite of her Big Belly Burger. “When I realized you’d begun regularly using an emoji, my heart literally began to sing.” Kara pressed her hand to heart, pretending she was swooning.

Lena rolled her eyes endearingly. “Kara, darling, you know I only started using the Moon emoji to get back at you for your routine overuse of the Sun emoji. You attach it at the end of every message.”

“Well yeah, of course I do. Your name, ‘Lena,’ means ‘sunlight’ in Persian. Zari told me. And you make me feel so bright and joyful, like I can take on anything—like how the Earth’s Yellow Sun gives me my strength and smile—so why wouldn’t I use that emoji as my little way of letting you know?”

Lena’s response was uncharacteristically sudden. “Can I kiss you?”

“What? I mean, wait, oh—” Kara cut off her own rambling, brushing her lips against Lena’s. The kiss was light and airy, like the sky on a sunny day. And when Lena leaned in to resume and deepen the kiss, it began to resemble the Sun’s fire. And the elation, relief, and euphoria in their hearts—that truly was just like the Sun.

[suckerfordeansfreckles]

For the trope fic numbers 3 & 33 please :)

3 & 33: Modern AU & Baby Fic - after one million years, I finally filled this prompt! I hope you guys enjoy it and some of you might be able to relate to Dean (and me) lol

Out of this World (read on AO3)

Dean can’t explain what it is about men with children, especially small ones, but they do things to him. 

They make him… feel all soft and gooey. Make him want a partner and a child running around his too-empty house, making his life a little louder and more colorful.

Just regular men, with dad bods, pushing strollers and cooing to their small, chubby, red-cheeked babies. It’s absolutely ridiculous and he can’t explain it at all, but… Regular men with babies already make him weak. 

And then there’s his neighbor, Cas.

Cas is — Cas is out of this world. 

They used to talk a lot more, back before Cas got custody of Claire. He’s an awesome guy, intelligent, sweet, compassionate, friendly, funny and just so good. They spent time with each other, hanging out in their gardens and living rooms, having dinner and drinking beer by Cas’ pool. Then Cas told him about his ex, about the baby that will be with him in a few months. Dean even helped him paint the room he conveyed to a nursery. They were friends. Dean was so close to asking him out… to try for more.

But then Cas took in Claire, and all his time and energy had to be on this little bundle of life. Obviously. Doesn’t mean Dean misses him less, though. And now, when Cas walks by his house, it’s not only just his gorgeous, hot friend — but also Cas, a soft and caring and sweet father to a tiny, cute baby.

Cas is walking by again this morning, and Dean just stepped outside to grab his mail, still in his pajamas on this fine Saturday. And now he’s standing and staring, again, he knows he is. But there, across the lawn, is Cas. Castiel Novak, single parenting a seven-month-old girl named Claire seemingly like he was made for it. 

He’s got Claire strapped to his chest, rocking her gently while he walks, her tiny blonde head against his chest. He has one big, broad hand on her back, the other one gripping a half-empty bottle of milk while simultaneously pushing the stroller in front of him with the hand not patting Claire’s back. 

His hair is ruffled like crazy, he hasn’t shaved in a while, and there is a questionable stain on his jeans on left thigh — and Dean absolutely fucking loses his mind. How in the world is this guy even real. How is he this cute when he looks like an absolute mess.

What the actual —

Dean misses his last step down on his way to the mailbox and ends up stumbling along his driveway, cheeks burning up with embarrassment. He hopes Cas didn’t catch it, just keeps his eyes on the floor and swiftly walks towards his mailbox when —

“Hello, Dean,” he hears, in that low, growly voice that has him weak in the knees. 

“Oh, Cas, hey there!” He stutters, sending Cas his biggest smile. He’s close now, so close that he comes to a stop in front of Dean, still raising up onto his toes and down again to keep rocking Claire. Dean tries to take a breath, but it ends up shallow and gasping. “How are you? How’s our sweetest girl?”  

“Oh, she — we haven’t had the best few days, to be honest,” Cas says softly and his hand is still gently patting her back. “Claire has been having tummy troubles, so I kind of have to keep rocking her, or she’ll start crying again. It started yesterday morning, her doc assured me that it’s nothing out of the ordinary. But she just… I can’t put her down.”

Cas looks miserable, suddenly, tired and drained, but when he looks down at his daughter, a loving smile stretches across his face. 

“I’m sorry, dude, do you — Do you need help? I’d be more than happy to help, I mean, if you trust me with her, I don’t, um,” he stumbles over his words, ears surely bright red. 

“Yes,” Cas blurts, before Dean can stutter out more. “Yes, please, if you’re serious about this. I… I would love a shower. If you’d really take her for a bit?”

Dean sends him a smile, genuine and wide, and nods. And that settles it.

He steps forward, takes the stroller from Cas and pushes it until they reach Cas’ porch. It’s only when he steps through the door behind Cas and toes off his shoes that he realizes that he’s still in his pyjamas, but Cas doesn’t seem to care, so Dean tries to tamp down his embarrassment and follows Cas into the living room.

It’s not quite like he remembers, there’s no alcohol around, there are safety stickers on the edges of the coffee table, fuzzy carpets all over the floor. Chew toys on the table, baby blankets spread out on the couch. Dean knows he’s ridiculous, but it kind of melts his heart. Cas is doing so well with Claire, and Dean is weirdly proud. He remembers quite a few drunken nights of Cas sharing his worries. None of them came to be true, just as Dean assured Cas it would be.

“Dean, are you sure? This is a little much, to ask,” Cas says, as he steps towards the couch and unbuckles the straps holding Claire against his chest. 

“Hey,” Dean says, as soft as he can. Claire is gurgling quietly, but she doesn’t sound unhappy. “You know I like you, I care about you — you two. If holding her for a little while and allowing you a shower is what you want, I’m here. I’d love to hold her, too.” 

Cas’ answering smile is so soft, it has Dean’s heart skipping a few beats. And then he hands Claire to Dean, and it takes a few minutes of carefully shuffling her, but he eventually manages to hold that tiny squirming bundle against his chest in a way that is both safe and healthy, according to Cas. 

He doesn’t dare carry her while walking through the room, the way Cas suggests, but he carefully sinks down on the couch with Claire and rocks her in his arms. 

She’s wrinkling her small nose, tiny fingers grabbing and holding onto Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s heart burns in his chest. He barely notices when Cas leaves for the shower, can’t tell how much time passes until he steps back in. The fact that his hair is still damp, that he’s wearing sweatpants and a wide shirt that slips down his shoulder, shows his collar bone — that’s the only thing that manages to pull his attention from Claire for a little while.

“She really likes you,” Cas whispers, looking down at where Claire is sleeping in Dean’s arms. “I’m impressed.”

“I really like her, too,” Dean answers, smiling as he shifts to the side to allow Cas to sit down next to him. He’s not sure what makes him say the next words, maybe the warmth of Claire in his arm, maybe the softness of his heart. “I really like you, too.”

Cas looks up abruptly, eyes wide and smile wavering. “You — Even with Claire?”

“Yes. Especially with Claire,” Dean smiles up at Cas, hope burning in his stomach, and then he carefully leans a little closer.

Cas bites his lip, and then he leans in, over Claire, and plants the softest of kisses on Dean’s mouth. He makes a soft noise, low in his throat. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he whispers, kissing Dean again.

“Yeah? Me too,” Dean replies, dazed and happy and warm.

“I would like to continue this — But first, if you don’t mind, I’d like to let you hold her a little longer and take a quick nap? I will be much more entertaining once I got an hour of sleep,” Cas chuckles, and before Dean can protest — not like he would ever decline the opportunity to hold Claire a little longer, to help Cas a little more — he shuffles down until he’s sinking   into the couch and his head is pressing against Dean’s thigh. 

“Good night, Dean. Thank you. I really like you too.”,“ Cas murmurs, and then he closes his eyes and dozes off in a heartbeat. 

And leaves Dean with a wildly beating heart and Claire babbling in his arms. And he has never felt better.

Tag list: @planetahmane  @justyourordinaryfangirl @winchester-cas @castielinparadise @trxye-sxvxn @runtosleepdreamer    @Destielhoneybee  @breathingdestiel @wellofwoes @xxgoldensnowflake @dshelley @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @robotsnchicks @jemariel  @reallyelegantsharkfish  @mellomish  @frecklessaver   @jasminrogue  @skittles-rainbow-cat  @Insecureadult  @fpwoper  @imbiowaresbitch  @destielsangel  @elaspn @didnt-survive-twist-and-shout @mercenarydestiel    @a-pastel-pan   @7faerielights  @kathrinerose  @nerd-litteraire  @wingsandimpalas  @casbean  @miasif @petrichoravellichor @trenchcoatsandfreckles @sleephawhoneedsit @vibraniumarm @youreabadliar @inlovewithsaturn @super-powerful-queen-slayyna @brangaene @all-or-nothing-baby @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @error-name-not-in-this-dimension @elizaeverafter@letofarrell @apieceofurmind @notfunnydean @winchester-ofthe-lord @love-neve-dies @korppikasvo @imafluffyjellybean @carry-on-my-wayward-hunter

If you want to be added to, or removed from, my tag list, just let me know in a quick message or comment

[the-wintershade]

— things ain’t what they used to be

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: bucky’s words get into your head and your dancing skills falter, threatening the partnership you and sam have built, but he is always there to listen and to encourage. In the process, you get closer than you thought. wc: 4.9k+  genre: angsty, flirting, deeper talks, secrets coming out

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 03

You couldn’t let yourself be as carefree as you once were. No matter how you tried to force out Bucky’s words, they were in there, ingrained in a part of your brain that you couldn’t access or change.

It became noticeable when you showed up for class the next week.

You were stiffer, heavier on your feet, and avoided Sam’s glancing eyes more intentionally. 

You felt awful, horrible that words that should have fallen on shut ears wormed their way into your head. Like you were a pawn, a slave to his bidding. You didn’t want the words there, you wanted nothing to do with his fowl corrupting phrases of false assurance. It was like a gambit, a lure of something genuine with the price of your soul attached to it.

You didn’t want to trade anything. You didn’t want the deal, but your mind already decided for you.

And Sam was suffering for it.

The instructor seems to notice as well as she stops and frowns more than once in your direction. Steve and Peggy are dancing fabulously, but have a diminished energy, as if your change has affected them too. Natasha mouths are you okay? over her shoulder as she twists around Clint.

You try to nod and put on your best smile, but it feels plastic, robotic. It’s more done out of habit than a truthful response. 

It was always like this being with Bucky, but if that’s what it took, you would pay the price. You could go back. It could be like it used to be.

You trip over Sam’s foot for the fourth time since the class began fifteen minutes ago and a heavy sigh spreads through you, your grip loosening on Sam’s hand. He holds your hand firmer when you falter, but doesn’t move any closer. 

“You alright?” His face twists with worry and you kick yourself mentally for letting Bucky throw you off this much. “Do you need to take a break?”

Irritation bubbles in your chest at the suggestion. It’s not his fault that you’re so off your game, but you didn’t want to quit. That meant that Bucky won. That somehow he’d made you a toy to play with that remained completely obedient to his beck and call. 

“No.” You breathe, knowing that your frustration was on display despite that you’d tried to shove it down. “No, I just….” You pulled your hand off his shoulder and ran it through your hair, collecting your thoughts. Glancing down, you practiced moving in a box like you’d done before, perfectly. 

“Okay.” He nodded and moved with you. “Try taking the lead. I’ll follow you.” His gaze was gentle and patient as he waited for you to get your stance in order before moving. You took your first few steps and he mirrored you completely, easily. 

He had no problems keeping up with you and your hesitating movements. He made it look simple, like he was just breathing, and it was your turn to be in awe of him.

“What, Coffee Girl?” He smirked, the first time he’d joked around with you since class started. “Surprised that I can follow as well as I can lead?”

You closed your mouth as you looked up to him. It was that same hint of playfulness and warmth that he always showed you. It felt unfair that he was taking the brunt of your internal war and your heart squooze at your behavior. Shame flared across your features, making your skin molten. 

By the time you were ready to form an answer, you were too devastated to form words. You just kind of gave a weak chuckle and kept trying not to step on his feet.

“Alright.” He dropped your hand and created distance between you two. You struggled to adjust to the drop in temperature, feeling strangely empty and devoid of energy. Sadness threatened to envelop you at the pain you were causing. Your eyes started watering uncontrollably. 

He cleared his throat excessively loud and everyone paused. “Excuse the interruption, but I think that we all deserve a break right?” He gestured at Steve and Peggy who stopped swaying mid swing. Steve looked from Sam to you and nodded his head. He turned to the dance instructor. 

“I think a five minute break wouldn’t harm anyone.” She agreed with a slight sly undercurrent underneath that felt directed towards you in a way.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I vote for a dance break. Perhaps with a selection of more danceable music.” Sam struts over to the speaker in a way that almost broke your tight lipped frown into a smile. Almost. The jazzy funk of Marvin Gaye began spinning around the hall, changing the quiet, cautious sounds of a piano and serenading trumpet into groovy percussion and a calming guitar. 

Sam nodded his head enthusiastically while Steve laughed at his antics. His eyes glimmered with a hidden inside joke that you wouldn’t get. 

He boogies his way to Steve and Peggy who fumble around in a mess of unsynchronized tempo and jerky movements but they began to fall into this 50s inspired groove that seems to work in sync with the music. You’re surprised at their knowledge of such an older style but it’s nice to see them break out of the formality that the waltz demands.

A man who’s name you learned was Vis, short for some extensive name you weren’t really paying that much attention to, got booty bumped by a funky Sam and looked like a deer in headlights. You almost giggled then and watched as Wanda began to shake and jump around. Vis’s face turned beet red, which happened every time he was even a bit embarrassed.

After some whoops and hollers from Wanda, Vis tried to move on the beat with her, holding her hands like he needed her for balance instead of guidance. They stumble through the steps together, but at least they are having fun. Wanda’s beautiful smile warms Vis to the core; it’s easy to see.

Sam attempts to drag Natasha and Clint into the action but both hold up hands, clearly conveying that’s never gonna happen. He shoots finger guns at them and spins around to make a b-line for you. 

You shake  your head furiously in denial and begin to back up, but Sam is insistent and presses in closer until he’s toe to toe with you. He draws your hands into his as you take a deep breath involuntarily and shakes his hips a little, teasing you with his eyes as he pours it on thick. “Oh, mercy mercy me,” He hums showing you that he won’t back down until you join him.

You begin to giggle and he alights with color, the whites of his teeth show. He tries to tamper it though and twirls his hand around to spin you in a circle. You follow his subtle direction and pivot around his hand as the orchestral part of the song begins to take over.

He pulls you in, wiggling his shoulders and guiding you through a modified waltz that’s much less challenging and more relaxing. It’s more about moving to the beat and adding pizzazz to what’s already there. It’s fun and you're smiling in no time, Bucky’s words drifting out of your mind.

He booty bumps you. You both fall into a bundle of awkwardly spasming bodies and outburst of mirth.

Sam watches you with laughter, his brown cheeks becoming little balls of happiness on his face. His eyes drip in amusement and enjoyment. He’s the party and the entertainment all in one.

You hold on to his light even as the song fades, even as the class resumes and you’re back in his warm, safe arms again, flowing through the moves in perfect harmony. He feels warmer now, renewed at the quick break that’s brought back your smile. You feel like Bucky’s words were nothing but a terrible, horrible dream that’ll dissolve by standing next to your sun, next to your Sam.

…

Sam digs into his burger as you take a reasonable bit of your own, watching him just as he watches you. It’s not creepy or intimidating, but more of a familiar thing to do. You’ve been observing each other for some time now, soon after introductions were established, so this was nothing unusual. 

But Sam’s gaze held something deeper, a twinge of confusion and dissatisfaction wafted through his deeply colored eyes. You wanted to ask, but waited. It might not be something that you were quite ready to answer yet. You resolved to finish chewing your part of the burger and look outside at the rushing traffic, at the way the light bounces off buildings and makes the sidewalk brighter.

Sure enough, when you’re ready to reach for your drink, Sam’s question beats you to it. “What happened yesterday?”

It’s a question that he has a right to an answer, especially with how it conflicted with your dancing abilities, but you don’t want to lay too much on him. After all, these were your issues to deal with, dumping your problems on him were unfair. 

“Nothing,” You compromise, hoping that the words would be just enough to convince him that some was definitely wrong but you weren’t ready to really get into it. “Just a little tired and irritated, that’s all.”

He doesn’t like the way you sigh. His shoulders hunch a little and his eyebrows furrow closer together when he hears something that upsets him. The fact that you knew that, surprises you, but you brush it off as getting to know each other over these past few days.

“(Name), be honest with me,” He pauses, his voice softening with an edge of seriousness. “I deserve that much.”

You almost cringe. He’s right, but you still don’t really want to say what really happened. You don’t want to upset him or make him angry for your sake. That, he doesn’t deserve. You also don’t want him to take on anything. You’ll solve this.

“If I tell you,” You fiddle with your straw, leaning back in your chair like you have the winning hand in a game of blackjack. “You have to promise me, that you won’t get upset.”

He leans forward, his concern rising in his eyebrows and darkening expression. “I can do that.” He tries to smooth out the creases that formed in the last few seconds, but a few still strain against him, telling you that he’s already upset.

You sigh and mess with your fingers in your lap, refusing to look him in the eye, to watch him become disgruntled with what you’re about to say. You explain what happened when you got home, how Bucky’s arms held you restrainedly tight against him and how he tried to convince you that Sam was just trying to use you, to play you in some way.

By the time you looked up, Sam wasn’t all the way upset, his shoulders were hunched still but his eyes were wide and hurt. That damaged you the most.

He leaned back when you made eye contact and looked away, his fingers running across his chin absentmindedly. When he was ready, which took some time, he dared to gaze back at you before sitting forward. “Do you not trust me?”

What? That’s the farthest thing from the truth. Of course you trusted him, this wasn’t about that. “I trust you.” You answered with more determination than you thought you were capable of and stared him directly in the eyes as you said so, assuring him that there were falsities in your statement. You know he accepts your answer as his shoulders drop in relief. 

He looks down and takes a breath before continuing. “Then why were you all over the place today?”

You close your eyes in frustration. “Because he doesn’t know you. Because I know you wouldn’t do something like that.” You sigh and stare at the table. “I was angry that his words got to me like that. I didn’t believe for a second that the words were true, but the fact that he knows just how to get a rise out of me made me unbelievably frustrated.”

When you don’t look at him, he reaches across the table and brushes his fingers against your deathly tight grip on your cup. Your hand loosens on contact as you take a sharp breath, a flush moving to your cheeks, a shiver riverbrating down your spine. “Thank you for telling me.” He murmurs, his gaze warm and more sultry than you remember.

Your hand inches out to that lightning strike that buzzes between your hands, but you restrain yourself and let it fall open onto the table. “Thank you,” You minutely smile. “For believing me.”

“Am I stepping on anything, by inviting you to dance with me?” He looks genuinely concerned and it breaks your heart all over again. His warmth and light that you don’t deserve.

“No. It was my choice to agree to dance with you and Bucky just has jealousy problems that he needs to sort out himself.” Your jaw locks when you say the words, but you’re much calmer now. The heat that runs through your veins isn’t from anger.

Sam nods and returns to eating. You do the same. 

A question bubbles up through your chest, an idea you previously ignored but now brought to your attention through its neglect. “That day I met you at the party, why were you there?” Your eyes are guarded, but not closed. You’re concerned that it took you so long to ask.

Sam smirks and finishes swallowing before responding. “Ah, so now you ask.” 

You bite your cheek to keep a smirk of your own from capturing your face. “I didn’t realize you were actively trying to keep it a secret.”

“No, not a secret. I was just wondering when your curiosity would finally get through.” 

You only hum in response, leaning away from the table, gesturing for him to continue.

He chuckles. “I know Willow.” 

The words hit you like a train and the smile fell straight off your face. The girl that Bucky disappeared with, while you were still there. The girl that knew you and Bucky had something going on but refused to keep her hands off him. Not like he was any better.

He watched your face harden and sobered up a bit. “I also met her in college. She invited me to a few art shoes she was doing as an amature artist. I knew there was something else behind her innocence.” He leans forward and sighs. “But when I explained my obvious disinterest in her, she backed off and turned out to be a surprisingly good friend.”

Your blood sizzled, a twisting knot of hot anger coiling and moulding in your stomach. It wasn’t about Bucky, but Sam and just as the realization caught in your mind, your inklings of rage dissipated in a second. Why is it all about Sam this whole time?

You closed your eyes and unfurled your fist, the half-moons the only remnants of your restrained vexation. 

Sam’s eyes drilled into your head. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft and deep, full of worry and anxiety.

“Yep.” You grit the words out between your closed teeth, allowing the flames to sputter and fizzle out before opening your eyes again. “Just...fine.” You peel your eyes open slowly and see Sam’s frown. Your face smoothes itself at his concern. You don’t like making him fret over you.

He doesn’t take your answer as satisfactory. “I’m sorry. I forgot Willow was a sensitive subject.”

“It’s not about Willow.”

Sam’s eyes lock with yours, the fire flashes behind your eyes for a second before you look away, waiting for it all to subside. Sam gently reaches across the table to you, brushing your blazing hot hand with his cooler one, trying to get your focus somewhere else. Where physical violence didn’t sound like a bad option.

“(name), look at me.” You strain against his voice, tears of frustration building in your eyes. He grasps onto your fingers tighter and tugs gently. You look at him then. “I’m not going to press you about what’s going on between the two of you, that’s your business, but I don’t like seeing you upset.” A soft warmth unfurls in your chest, smothering the wall of pain threatening to rise.”I’m sorry for whatever happened, but I am here to support you, even if we haven’t known each other that long.”

You laugh, it’s sad and bitter, but it’s better than crying in front of him. You’ve cried enough tears already over this, you don’t need more to the bunch.

But it’s nice to know that he cares about your well being and that he withstood Willow. It makes you happier to know that Willow can’t draw in everyone.

It just makes you peeved that it all comes back to the art gallery for her, that she feels she needs to get men this way. It should be about her work. It should be about something she’s passionate about, not just for an excuse.

You sigh and smile at him. Squeezing his hand, you manage to get out a sentence quietly. “Thank you, Sam. It means a lot.”

“Always.” His are dark and warm, filled with pools of light and sincerity. It gives the confidence to return back to the way you were. You give his hand one last squeeze before you let go and return to eating. Sam hesitates a moment, making sure you’re actually okay before continuing with his meal.

After finishing your food in a comfortable silence, the gentle movement of paper and liquid traveling through straws creating a white noise, Sam asks you one more question. “I want to show you a place next time. Do you feel comfortable coming with me?”

You smirk. “Trying to kidnap me?”

“Only if you’re okay with that.”

He smiles when you answer. “I’m down. Lead the way, Captain.”

…

Dance class provides a higher charge than originally seen between the two of you. His smirk lingers in your mind, making you tingle and blush rise. These aren’t things that you can really remember feeling with Bucky, but it’s been so long, how would you remember?

It’s probably a bad thing that you can’t echo thoughts of good times with Bucky, but maybe it’s just that you’ve never felt this way about anyone else before. Maybe these feelings are new.

Sam seems to feel the same way as you do. He’s not nearly as flirty or as talkative as usual, he doesn’t crack any one liners with you nor does he twirl you into any crazy moves. He’s all poise and following the rules, but his hands wrap around yours a little tighter, you dance a little closer, and the air hums with the electricity between you.

He stares more openly when all you can do is look away and smile. 

Your steps are steadier and accurate. You don’t stumble around like you did the day before, and you and Sam move as one unit, gracefully weaving around each other, your feet like feathers spinning through the air.

The teacher smiles appreciatively at you and every other person in the class, every couple moves in sync. The whole class appears harmonious and balanced, more comfortable and less worried for your performance. It’s preferable to the rough nature of Bucky and the challenging environment of your job.  It’s comfortable and nice, a place of relaxation and peace for you. 

It’s a place to come and dance with Sam and forget everything, forget the world exists.

…

Sam’s jacket falls around your shoulders, a soft barrier against the cooling breeze of the sea. You walk side-by-side down the boardwalk, the planks clunk beneath your shoes and the breaking of small waves provides a murmur of background noise. It’s enough to create a pleasant space to take in the beauty of it all.

There’s nothing more delicate and beautiful than a beach at sunset. It’s no wonder you’re here with him; it’s oddly fitting.

“I used to come here a lot.” Sam quietly murmurs underneath his breath, just loud enough for you to hear but careful not to pull you out of your admiration too fast. “When I was in my head too much.”

You nod politely and keep watching the waves lap against the shore. You want him to continue on his own terms, you’d never force his story from him. 

He clears his throat after a beat and drifts a little closer to you. Your heat grows for a half-second. “I used to be in the army and when you come back...life just isn’t the same for you anymore.” He sighs and your heart squeezes hearing the pain and the hurt in his words. “It’s hard to adjust and when life is too absurdly mundane, I’d come here. The roar of the waves could dull some of the noise up here.” He taps against his temple and smiles to himself.

You force yourself not to touch him, but it takes immense effort and your hand itches, pulls, wrestles against your mind's commands to keep still. You sink your teeth into the side of your cheek and hum in response to him, trying to keep your eyes from locking with his.

“Is it bad now?” The words slip out as your concern for him reaches a crux and not knowing is eating up every bit of self-control you’ve built into place. Your question lingers between you two, fragile and shaky, and you wonder if you’ve crossed some horrible line that you weren’t supposed to. 

A feeling of dread wells up in your chest as he takes a while to answer, your face begins to drop and your steps falter, but then he shakes his head in disagreement. “No.” He chuckles to himself. “It’s been getting better these last few weeks.”

His smile holds a secret that is intended for you to understand, but you try not to pay it too much attention. 

“You know, if you need anything, I’m here.” You fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket as you respond. “If you can be here for me through this Bucky mess, then I can be here for your bad dreams too.”

Sam watches you unabashedly and then smiles gently. “Thank you.”

You walk together to the end of the pier and sit on the edge, your feet reaching towards the waves. The wind here is colder, more cutting and you wrap his jacket further around your shoulders. 

Neither of you speak for a few minutes, just letting the wind and the sea make a music of its own. It was this comfortability in the silence that you wish you could share with Bucky. You wish you could be beside him and feel the way you do now, safe and comfortable. You don’t have to fight against him or his antics, his cheating behavior and aggressive personality. 

You could just be. 

You could just exist in the same time and space and that would be enough for you.

And the conversation wouldn’t always drift to your mistakes and failures. It wouldn’t be made into a spectacle of hate about you living your life and trying new things.

But Sam doesn’t make you feel stupid or dumb. He doesn’t make you feel like you’re doing anything wrong.

Sam must have seen your scrunched eyebrows and critical eyes. “What are you thinking about?” 

You sigh and fiddle with the palms sprawled in your lap. “My ‘boyfriend’ as you so affectionately call him.”

“Oh.” He looks back to the waves, steadily crashing but growing in intensity. The tide must be coming in. “And how are things?”

The mood changes. He grows more reserved, analytical and objective, like he usually does whenever Bucky’s name is mentioned. Your stomach twists. You don’t want him to close off or make him feel like he’s stepped on something delicate. You don’t want to hurt him with stories about him.

But you know that if you try to shield the truth, he’ll be just as hurt. He said he’d be there. You trust him.

“Tense at best.” You conceded, face sinking in despite the gorgeous scenery.

“Hmm.” He takes a breath and looks at your hands, balled together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

He nods.

“I just feel guilty around him, like I’m doing something wrong.” It wasn’t because of Sam; it was because you knew your feelings were changing and they weren’t in favor of Bucky.

“Does the dancing thing...make you feel uncomfortable?” He spares a fleeting glance at your face and you watch his calm but worried eyes move over yours gently, just testing your reaction before he reveals the depth of his.

A similar alarm echoes off in your mind that this will have to come to an end soon, that this beautiful dream will dissolve from your mind. You don’t want this to end. You don’t like the thought of not seeing him again. 

“No! That isn’t the issue. I’ve been more myself dancing with you than I have been around him.” You fiddle with your hands, a spike of anxiety rising at your confession, but you spare a glance in your direction to see him staring at you directly. A jolt flares in your core.

“That’s...reassuring.” You bump his shoulder, reminding you of how close you are. If you placed your hands on either side of your body, you’d nearly be touching. He smiles at your teasing. “But,” His tone dips to a lower pitch, a lingering sigh hinting at the transition from euphoria to reality. “As nice as that sounds, it doesn’t sound like you’re in a good spot.”

“We’re not.” Your face droops in frustration. “And I’m not sure what to do.”

He watches you for a second before he responds. “Sounds like you need to talk to him.”

When you turn to look at him again, the sun is splayed so beautifully on his features that he looks like an angel, swathed in gold and sunlight. You can’t stop staring. And even if he was embarrassed by your pointed gaze, he doesn’t seem concerned. He’s too busy gazing back at you.

You’re surprised when you start to lean in, but the thought only registers in some part of your mind that’s far away from the decision making part of your brain. What brings a present shock is the fact that he begins to lean in too.

Your temperature increases and you can feel your breath quickening, but you keep going anyway, ignoring the nagging feeling of guilt that’s increasing by the moment. Sam’s nose brushes against your own and your eyes begin to fall, but it’s as if your vision clears when your eyes shut.

You stop and he immediately follows suit.

But you take a moment to savor the feeling, being so close to him, being close enough to touch and hold. These are treasonous thoughts that carry a weight that you don’t fully understand, but it feels good. You haven’t felt this good being around someone in years, despite being with someone else all this time.

It’s horrible that you’re just starting to figure all of this out now. “Sorry.” Your whisper is jagged and breathy, but it’s all you can manage. You don’t think you have full control of your mental functions to do or explain more than that. 

Sam seems equally as lost because all he can do is hum in response. You know his eyes are open, watching you, waiting for you to look at him, but you can’t. Because if you do, you’ll lose all over again.

“We should get back.” He stands and only when he isn’t in your sights that you open your eyes. You notice how the ocean quieted down, the roaring in your ears in your ears isn’t as loud, how the wind has died. 

When you turn, his hand drifts in front of your face and you hesitantly reach out to take it, knowing the jolt that’s going to spike through your arm at the contact of your skin with his. It’s stronger than it’s been before, but he supports you as you stand like he didn’t feel it. 

You straighten on slightly wobbling legs, still buzzed from a second ago. Only when he’s sure that you’ll be able to walk on your own does he let go, holding on for much longer than necessary. You miss his heat right when you let go.

He treds next to you faithfully until you reach your car. You unwrap his jacket from your shoulders and gently give it back to him, thanking him for lending it to you. You prod over to him and press a feather-soft kiss to his cheek, making sure to keep it to the appropriate amount of time, but wishing you’d just let it linger a bit longer. When you look back at him, a low warm heat spreads through your stomach at the way his eyes look like pools of fresh, heated chocolate, moving in elegant swirls.

You force yourself to turn away and get into your car. You give him a small wave as you pull away and then immediately crank the AC despite it’s only 50 degrees outside. 

You can’t stop smiling, even when you make it back to your apartment.

[maliciouslycreative]

Sheith fanfic rec list

One of my favourite things about Voltron and Sheith writers seems to be our love for humour. There have been so many fics that have had me inappropriately laughing in the break room at work or making inhuman sounds that have made my partner run into the room to ask if I’m ok. And today I would love to share with you some of my favourites because who doesn’t love a good dose of idiots to lovers. I’ll try to only list one fic by an author just to keep this list from getting absolutely out of hand so please make sure to check out all the other great works that each and every one of these writers has written.

If you have more funny sheith fics you want to add on please do, we would all appreciate your contributions!

(under the cut to save people on mobile)

Drunk on the idea of you, baby

By: corduroyworks

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029245

Rating: T

Summary: Shiro might grow just a bit attached to the trashed boy in the corner booth with pretty eyes that can't eat a burger.

Why I love it: I think about Keith eating that hamburger all the time. Sometimes my sister and I will even mime eating a hamburger badly and cackle madly while everyone else looks at us in confusion. 

Fwd: Misunderstood

Author: ArtForRogue

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228643

Rating: T

Summary: Keith is an office worker in charge of the fabled KOSMO project. His right-hand man is named Takashi Shirogane -- a man Keith fervently hates because of three years of misunderstandings. When Shiro requests to meet face-to-face, Keith is ready to exact his revenge. Little does he know, Shiro thinks he's been smoothly flirting this entire time...

Why I love it: Keith hates Shiro, Shiro likes Keith. Shiro is trying his best to convey this but maybe, just maybe, some things are getting lost in the fact that they only communicate through IMs through work and Keith is just not great at social cues even at the best of times. 

Got me feeling sub kind of way

Author: arahir

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061882

Rating: G

Summary: Shiro was a lawyer. Keith was a sandwich. (Can I make it any more obvious?)

Why I love this: Ok yes this is a classic of the fandom but honestly it’s just so endlessly funny. I don’t know how many times my sister and I have made casual reference to “he was a sandwich, and he was a lawyer”. Honestly any time someone’s like “he was a lawyer” I blurt out “and he was a sandwich” despite the latter definitely not being true to the situation. I did almost list another one of arahir’s works, Awoo, but went with this because that one isn’t finished but both are absolute GEMS. 

If You Teach A Fish To Man

Author: Saasan

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15495900

Rating: E

Summary: Keith hasn't seen Hero in almost a year and the humans on the docks aren't gossiping sufficiently (curse them), so the merman has decided to take matters into his own hands. He didn't save the man from drowning just to have him disappear, after all! Now equipped with a fresh set of legs, he's ready to find out Hero's fate. Providing, of course, he can make it off the beach.

Why I love it: It’s the little mermaid, but with a happy ending and Lance being the best Lance he can possibly be.

Italian Restaurant series

Author: CGotAnAccount

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1231943

Rating: G-T

Summary (to first fic in the series): He'd like to think that he's gotten better over the years at being a functional adult and a decent husband – that maybe things don't slip by him like they used to.

Things like understanding office cougars don't actually need help getting their coats on.

Like when someone says they're fine but then sighs dramatically afterward they're probably not fine, Lance.

Like this definitely human kidney floating in a pot of ice in his sink.

Why I love it: This is the “definitely not a serial killer AU” that I highly recommend. Sheith are together, in love, they have their goodest boy, and everything is good. Except for Keith finding out that maybe his husband has some unusual hobbies. There are times I pick up a bottle of ibuprofen and just start laughing. 

Shades of cool

Author: tagteamme

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410229

Rating: T

Summary: Pretending to be Romelle's father, Keith storms into a parent-teacher interview with all the righteous fury the situation calls for and ends up running into the most handsome man he's ever seen.

Why I love it: It goes exactly as well as you expect, and then keeps going further and further down the hole and it’s GREAT. And the peanut gallery makes sure Keith will never live this down. Plus Keith’s dad just being awesome.

We just fall where our hearts go

Author: artsy_alice

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871422

Rating: T

Summary: The Super Cheesy Cliche High School Romcom no one asked for.

In which Keith and Romelle are siblings, Shiro and Sven are cousins, and everything changes when Sven sees Romelle and falls head-over-heels in love.

Why I love it: This is one of the first fics I read in this fandom and it came for me. I love cheesy hs au and this one was cute and absolutely hilarious. I loved watching Romelle and Sven disastrously flirt with each other and subsequently bring Keith and Shiro together. This also sold me forever on Keith and Romelle being siblings. 

Welcome To The Pink Parade

Author: Ardene

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795751

Rating: G

Summary: He worked in Hot Topic, he worked in Sanrio. Can I make it any more obvious?

A story of two idiots falling in love, inspired by the picture of the Hot Topic and Sanrio store right beside each other.

Why I love it: I’m so glad that I had a hand in helping this come to be. I still can’t walk through a mall food court without thinking about Shiro and the poutine. Also as someone that has worked in a mall this speaks to me on a spiritual level.

You Spin My Head Right Round

Author: themomentofdavyprentiss

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15334125

Rating: T

Summary: Come on, Shiro, he tells himself. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to flirt with bloody strangers in laundromats while you stand almost completely naked?

No. No one has ever told him that. In fact, Shiro feels fairly confident that no one has ever had to tell anyone that.

Which means, obviously, that it's okay.

~

or, alternatively, the one where Shiro helps Keith with his dirty load.

Why I love it: Meeting in a laundromat is usually a meet cute but this kind of turns int on his head. It’s weird, delightful, and honestly pretty sweet.

 Your Constellation Prize Author: rosegardenlake Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898082 Rating: M Summary: Akira is Hollywood's biggest celebrity. He sings, he acts, he models, he does it all and he does it perfectly. That's what Shiro thinks at least, but what would he know? He's just a tired office worker whose dreams fell through years ago. ...But when he sees Akira, oh god, when he sees him - Shiro's world fills with light again.

When Shiro lands an interview to be an assistant at Akira's company, he has a hard time believing it's reality. Though Akira's rarely around, meeting everyone is like a dream. Especially meeting Keith, Akira's shy sweet dorky cousin (OR IS HE?!)

Why I love it: This is a 2 person love triangle at its finest. I also think about the button scene on occasion. Whenever I gotta wear a shirt with buttons I’m just rocketed back to this story and I start laughing. It’ll also just put you through some emotional times. Honestly such a good ride the whole way through. 

[prouvaireafterdark]

Temporary Wounds (2/3)

This is basically “Michael Guerin tries to be supportive and understanding: the chapter” of my angsty h/c fic about Michael watching Alex date someone else. Also got a healthy dose of Maria and Michael being the friends they should be in canon, if that floats your boat.

Part 1 can be read on tumblr here or on AO3 here.

This chapter’s also on AO3

***

They’ve been doing this hanging out thing for a while now. It started about a month ago when Alex showed up at his Airstream with a six pack and some burgers from the Crashdown as a peace offering.

(“Look, I’m tired of not asking for what I want and I want you in my life, Guerin.”

“How’s your boyfriend feel about that?” Michael asks, trying his best to keep the venom out of his voice.

Alex shrugs, “He trusts me. And he knows that you’re important to me. If you want me to go, I’ll go, but I’d like it if we could be friends.”

Friends. Michael doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry. He’ll be in love with Alex until it kills him.

He gestures toward the empty seat across the fire all the same.)

It’s nice.

Every minute Michael’s around Alex and can’t touch him is painful, but still, it’s… nice. Certainly better than the alternative. Michael would rather have this than nothing.

And in some ways, they understand each other better than they ever have before, now that they’ve actually taken the time to talk and listen to each other.

It works, as long as they avoid certain topics of conversation, such as the giant blue-haired elephant in the room.

(“So, how are things between you and the wannabe emo frontman?”

“He has a name, Guerin,” Alex complains.

“Does he? Sorry, I’ve only got room in here for essential information these days,” he says, tapping his temple with his index finger. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows he’s said the wrong thing.

“Look if you’re gonna be a dick, I’m just gonna go.” Alex moves to stand, but Michael panics and reaches for his arm to stop him.

“No, come on, please. Don’t go. I didn’t mean that,” Michael pleads. He can feel the warmth of Alex’s skin beneath his flannel where he’s gripping his forearm. Alex has stopped moving and is looking at him with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Insulting my boyfriend or making me want to leave?” Alex asks, unconvinced.

Michael sighs and chooses his words carefully. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right. That’s all, I swear.”

“Really?” Alex asks, head tilted to the side. His anger has dissipated, confusion taking over. “You care about that?”

Now it’s Michael’s turn to be confused. “Of course I care, Alex,” he says. “You’re my—you’re my family, and if this guy isn’t treating you the way you deserve I want to know about it.” He’d also rather carve his own heart out than hear that Alex’s relationship is sunshine and daisies, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. In the face of Alex’s stunned silence he adds, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Sorry, it’s just—“ Alex hesitates, his voice stilted and unsure. “I didn’t think you’d feel so… protective of me, given the circumstances.”

Michael scoffs at that, letting his hand drop from Alex’s arm. “I’ve always been protective of you, Alex. That ain’t new.”

“Yeah,” Alex responds, his voice echoing the sadness in his eyes as he no doubt remembers the way Michael threw himself in Jesse Manes’ path to protect him. The way Michael chose to leave his mother to die alone so Alex wouldn’t die too. “Yeah, I know.”)

Which is why, when Michael goes to the Crashdown to pick up some breakfast before heading over to Alex’s bunker to look through some files, he’s completely blindsided by Liz asking, the second he crosses the threshold into the diner,  “Do you know what’s going on with Alex and his boy toy right now?”

“Um, no?” Michael responds, standing awkwardly by the door in his confusion. He spots Maria sitting at the counter when she waves at him.

“Damn it,” she says, turning back to Maria. “There goes one theory.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Maria counters. Liz gives her a conceding nod.

“What’s going on?” he asks as he walks up to the counter.

Liz and Maria share a look before Maria answers, “We don’t know, but apparently they had a pretty explosive fight at Saturn’s Rings last night.”

“About what?” he asks.

“I mean, we can guess,” Liz says, giving him a look that puts him on the defensive.

“I have nothing to do with this,” Michael argues. He might hate the guy’s guts, but he’s not trying to sabotage his relationship with Alex.

“No one’s judging, Mikey, but… you two have been getting awfully close lately.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn’t mean we’re fucking.”

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish they were either, but he’s not about to let his friends think he’s a home wrecker, especially when he’s been trying really hard not to be.

“Whoa, no one’s saying you are,” Maria interjects. “Just that, you know, maybe there’s someone who thinks you are.”

“That’s bullshit,” he says, though he has to admit that there’s a small, possessive part of him that’s pleased at the idea of that blue-haired fuck feeling threatened by the connection he has with Alex. “Can I just order my food and be on my way? I’ve got things to do.”

When he orders his and Alex’s usual, Liz smirks at him before disappearing into the kitchen. Once she’s gone, Maria pats the bar stool next to her and he accepts her invitation. The seat creaks gently as he spins himself leisurely around on it, his brain processing too much for his body to keep still.

“What are you thinking?” asks Maria, watching him carefully.

Michael sighs. “That I should talk to him before jumping to any conclusions.”

“Huh. How very mature of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve learned my lesson,” he says. “Communication really is key,” he adds with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Alright then, how are you feeling?”

Relieved? Overjoyed? Hopeful? Nervous? The list goes on and none of it is going to mean a damn thing if this turns out to be bullshit.

He shakes his head, but Maria doesn’t stop looking at him.

“I mean, you’ve got to be feeling some type of way about it,” Maria continues. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he begs finally, eyes on the counter. “If I say it, it’ll make it real and if it’s for nothing, I…” Michael swallows thickly, shoving down the hope that Alex and his boyfriend really have broken up.

He feels like shit just thinking it, but he can’t help it. He hates that guy and he hates how he gets to just be with Alex in the way he never could.

Maria’s hand comes up to rest on his back, rubbing gently over his denim jacket. “It’s okay,” she says, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Is it?” he asks, finally turning to her, voicing his guilt. “He could be hurting right now and all I can think about is what this could mean for me. I mean, how fucked up is that?”

“It’s not fucked up, Michael. It’s human.” Michael scoffs at that, about to point out the obvious, but she stops him. “I know that you know that, no matter the circumstances, you want Alex to be happy. We all do. But it’s not wrong for you to want that happiness to be because of you, not some other guy. So just cut yourself some slack, okay? Your feelings are natural. They don’t make you a bad person.”

Michael lets her words sink in a little and tries to believe them.

“Besides,” Maria adds while he’s thinking, leaning in conspiratorially, “you’re not the only one who thinks that guy is kind of a tool.”

Maria gets a genuine smile out of him for that. Not for the first time, he thinks that maybe, in a world where he’d never met Alex Manes, they could have really been something.

He leans over and pulls Maria into a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

“Thanks, DeLuca,” he says, trying to convey how much he appreciates her. Not many women in her position would be as gracious and kind, especially not to him.

“Just make sure you pay your tab next time you come to my bar and we’ll call it even,” she jokes as she pulls away, the heavy sentimentality of the moment making way for their usual brand of light banter.

“What about that sad cowboy discount?” he asks, cheeky smile on his face.

“That was a one time offer and you know it, Michael Guerin.”

Michael lets himself into the Project Shepard bunker twenty minutes later. He finds Alex looking through a manilla file at the table, wearing a leather jacket and a frown.

“Hey,” Michael says, walking down the steps toward him.

“Hey,” Alex replies, looking up with a bleary-eyed smile. As soon as he smells the coffee and egg sandwiches, he reaches toward Michael with both hands and says, “Oh, thank god.”

“You get any sleep last night?” Michael asks, handing it over. “Heard it was a bad one.”

Alex freezes with the coffee halfway to his lips.

“Heard about that, did you?” Alex asks, and then goes to take a sip.

“Word gets around,” he shrugs, sliding into the chair next to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “Really, I’ll be fine,” he adds when Michael keeps staring.

He doesn’t sound that upset, so Michael says, “Okay. Good,” and lets it go. He starts pulling some files off the pile on the table so he can read while he eats.

“Not gonna ask me what happened?” Alex asks around another sip of coffee a few seconds later.

“Didn’t think you’d want to tell me,” Michael answers.

Michael thinks that’s the end of it until Alex breaks the silence a minute later.

“I broke up with him.”

Now it’s Michael’s turn to freeze. Alex watches him carefully over the lid of his coffee cup as he struggles to guard his facial expression. Smug satisfaction probably isn’t the best look to have right now.

Face carefully neutral, Michael asks, “How come? Thought he reminded you of what you were like in high school.” Before I ruined your life, he doesn’t add.

“Where did you hear that?” Alex frowns.

He doesn’t want to throw Maria under the bus so he shrugs and asks, “Am I wrong?”

“No,” Alex admits. “That’s part of the problem, actually.”

Michael’s face draws together in confusion.

“Why would that be a problem? Teen you was a total badass.”

“Oh and I’m not now?” Alex challenges, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Look at you, fishing for compliments,” Michael teases because he can’t help it. Alex rolls his eyes. “Come on, you know what I meant. So what was the problem?”

Alex hesitates before saying, “I don’t know if now’s the time to get into it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to start a conversation we’re not ready to finish.”

Michael pauses to consider what that means. He knows what he wants Alex to mean, but the conversation Alex has in mind could just as easily be something else.

“Okay,” Michael says, unwrapping his egg sandwich with forced nonchalance. “Well, when you’re ready to start it, let me know.”

So he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

[urrguide]

FOODIE'S GUIDE TO MARRAKESH

These movement guides are intended for tentative arrangements and current wandering off in fantasy land as it were. Up to that point, remain safe!

M'smen

Sightseers have since a long time ago rushed to Morocco's Red City for a sample of the extraordinary. The very name invokes flavors, snake-charmers, 

and arousing delights. Its food soaks are in Berber and Arabic impacts and eating here can be an incredible experience. Marrakech must one of the most reminiscent, scrumptious, and exceptional goals for foodies in the Mediterranean locale. In any case, Marrakech can be dumbfounding just because of the guest (or any guest). Spare yourself from unremarkable couscous with this manual for finding the best food in Marrakech.

MOROCCAN CUISINE – CAFES – RESTAURANTS – LOCAL DISHES – MARKETS – COOKERY CLASSES – FOOD TOUR – SOUVENIRS – RECIPE BOOKS

MOROCCAN CUISINE 

Marrakech truly was one of the primary general stores and markets in North Africa. Products and flavors were conveyed up the Saharan shipping lanes by camel. The Arab impact brought mezze and organic products from the east. French standard left its imprint as well, as did control of Andalucia. Marrakech has desert, mountains, and ocean inside short proximity. Stews are scented with nectar and saffron, cumin, protected lemon, olives, and dates. Slows down in the medina are heaped high with flavors and mint and figs. Morocco doesn't have a culture of eating out so most of the cafés are focused at guests as opposed to local people; it's very simple to leave away having eaten normal tagines at swelled costs. The best customary Moroccan food is normally found in the home, so in case you're remaining in a riad do benefit as much as possible from any chances to eat or cook with your host. Local people for the most part like to eat universal food when out for the night. The primary dishes related to Morocco are tagine and couscous. You'll never observe these served together, they are discrete dishes—and couscous from a bundle is heresy! Couscous is customarily eaten on a Friday (the blessed day) and is what could be compared to Sunday lunch. It's meticulously hand moved from semolina and steamed with the meat and vegetables. In Marrakech, you'll likewise discover Tangia, a stew cooked in a dirt pot in the ashes underneath the hammam (instead of on a burner in a stoneware tagine).

Moroccan breakfast at Cafe des Epices THE CAFES

Sooner or later during your outing, you'll need a break from the singing warmth and power of the Medina. Here's a determination of probably the best bistros in Marrakech to shield from the sun and get your caffeine fix: Atay Cafe. Close to the Ben Youssef Madrasa, this is the one with the most Instagrammable rooftop patio. Energetic juices and boho-stylish vibes. Bistros des Epices. Perhaps the coolest bistro, head to this staggered Spice Market bistro in case you're longing for a latte or searching for a light lunch, chill beats and housetop sees. Bistro Clock. Initially began in Fes, Cafe Clock presently has a station in Marrakech. It broadly serves a camel burger and offers social workshops and customary jam meetings. Bistro du Livre. One for the bibliophiles (and those lenient toward tobacco smoke), this agreeable hideaway and English-language book shop has a liquor permit and is well known with ex-pats. Grande Cafe de la Poste. For climate, this reestablished pioneer period brasserie is difficult to beat for beverages or eating. It's a debauched neighborhood establishment with nearby fixings and live jazz in the nighttimes.

THE LOCAL DISHES TO TRY 

Just as the numerous minor departure from tagine and couscous, here are a couple of neighborhood specialties and tidbits to watch out for while meandering the Medina:

Amlou. A delightful blend of argan oil, nectar, and almond glue. This is your new most loved plunge.

Babouche. Snails served in a daintily spiced gritty stock, these snails taste more like mushrooms than you may anticipate.

Insane Bread. One of the numerous names for cushy pitta-Esque sandwiches stuffed hard bubbled eggs, pounded potato, and zesty sauce. Likewise, pay special mind to sandwiches highlighting aubergine (eggplant) or sardine.

Becerra. Garlicky fava bean soup.

B'stilla. The exemplary Moroccan dish is generally made with pigeon or chicken meat encased in slender flaky baked good and sweet flavors, yet different fillings, for example, fish are accessible as well.

Briouats. Minimal triangular samosa-like filled baked goods, loaded down with meat or sweet almond glue.

Brochettes. Flame-broiled sticks of meat, one of the most famous road nourishments on Djemma el Fna.

Harira. Generally eaten during Ramadan to break the quick, little dishes of this generous lentil and chickpea soup are probably the least expensive road nourishments you can discover in Marrakech.

Hodangal. There's a bunch of slows down in the Djemma el Fna serving sweet zesty teas with stomach related properties.

Juices and smoothies. These are all over; attempt mixes of banana, date, avocado, almond, orange, and sugar stick juice, orange bloom water, nectar, figs, and rose water.

Kaab Ghazal. The great Moroccan patisserie sweet made of almond glue enclosed by baked good and molded into gazelle horns

Khobz. The staple Moroccan bread; round, level, regularly made with semolina flour and extraordinary for plunging and scooping.

Labia. Moroccan prepared beans! Generally a morning dish. Plunge your khobz.

Ma'qooda. Potato wastes plunged in egg and pan-fried.

Mechoui. Spit-cooked sheep, with the offal, were likewise accessible for the more daring.

Mint tea. It's practically difficult to leave Morocco without having attempted 'Berber Whisky'. Mint leaves fermented with green tea, poured from stature to initiate bubbles, and typically presented with a pile of sugar solid shapes.

M'smen. flatbread-like hotcakes with nectar and smen (aged margarine), flavors, or dunked in amount.

Seven. Moroccan doughnuts.

Tangia. A Marrakech uncommon of sheep and safeguarded lemon moderate cooked for the time being in the heaters that heat the hammams.

THE MARKETS

Zest Market

The business sectors of Marrakech Medina need little presentation and are apparently the city's primary draw.

The acclaimed (and UNESCO-secured) Djemaa el Fna square in its middle is the social heart of the city. The square wakes up around evening time with narrators, artists, snake-charmers, and

food

sellers. My preferred corner is the mint market, administering colossal packs of the stuff for use in mint tea and perfuming the air with its cool scent.

The

food

slows down in the Djemma el Fna don't have gained notoriety for cleanliness, although hand washing stations have as of late been introduced. The auditorium is unrivaled, yet numerous slows down are scams. Better, less expensive

food

is accessible in the littler back streets of the Medina. In any case, it's a rush and a transitional experience for individuals visiting Marrakech, so here are a few hints for eating there:

Search for a horde of local people

If somebody is bothering you to eat there, continue strolling

The better the menu in English, the less to anticipate from the food

Even though slows down showcase costs, concur what you will pay forthright and don't acknowledge any 'complimentary gifts' that will definitely be labeled onto your bill at an extortionate rate

Stick to food that is newly barbecued or seared before you

Watch that the singing oil looks light and clean

Maintain a strategic distance from plates of mixed greens and minced meats

Fish is unsafe except if you know the birthplace/stockpiling

Albeit intangible upon the appearance, the medina is isolated into littler network regions, each with a mosque, hammam, and a nearby market for products of the soil. Pro venders are additionally bunched into souks (markets) all through the medina—the zest showcase is one model (and one of the least demanding to discover).

THE COOKERY CLASSES

Marrakech is truly an outstanding and least expensive goal to take a cookery class. For all intents and purposes, each riad or inn will offer this, either in-house or at a bigger school. Classes do shift as far as what they incorporate; less expensive classes may include helping your culinary specialist with a tagine, while progressively costly classes may incorporate learning various dishes and shopping at the market for fixings.

Some all-around respected classes include:

Amal Women's Training Center

Bistro Clock

Dar Les Cigognes

Faim d'Epices

La Maison Arabe

Souk Cuisine

For

foodies

with a sweet tooth, Amal can likewise sort out a heating class.

Mint tea

THE SOUVENIRS TO BRING HOME Marrakech is shopping nirvana, you won't battle to fill your bag with treats. However, here are a couple of focuses to hold up under as a primary concern while looking for palatable trinkets: Argan oil. Morocco is the principle maker of argan oil, which is utilized in cooking and beauty care products. It's produced using the bits of argan nuts which develop on trees close Essaouira toward the south of Marrakech. Costs are high as the shelling of the nut is finished by hand, frequently by Berber ladies, and it's an undeniably mainstream fixing in beauty care products. On the off chance that the cost appears to be modest, it's likely weakened. Restorative evaluation oil is light and mellow, culinary oil will in general be darker as the nuts have been toasted before separating the oil. Search for oil put away in dim glass bundling. It has a medium smoke point however is predominantly utilized for dressings and plunging. There are various co-agents in Morocco that you can visit to purchase from the source. Flavors. The most mainstream flavor blend in Marrakech is ras el hanout. Signifying 'head of the shop', each store has its own adaptation of the blend which can contain over 20 distinct flavors. You can likewise get blends to use for reproducing your most loved tagine at home, just as shop for singular flavors, for example, cumin and cinnamon. In any case, while those engaging hills of flavors make for extraordinary photographs, flavors debase in contact with air so search for shops that store flavors in containers. Watch out for counterfeit saffron as well; this costly zest is frequently traded out for texture strands colored orange. Tagine. You'll see a lot of embellished earthenware production available to be purchased in the souks, however, these painted and coated marvels are frequently unsatisfactory for cooking because of the nearness

[littlepurinsesu]

V Watches MagiReco - Episode 2 Review

*Spoilers for Magia Record Anime Episode 2* 

This review took a little longer for me because I had my thesis defense exam yesterday, but trust me when I say I still insisted on watching the episode the moment it became available last weekend! (*≧∀≦*)

We’re finally meeting more characters from the game! And omg they’re all so, so, so lovable!!!

I didn’t expect Momoko to be this cute? To me, she’s always been very much a mature “big sister” kind of figure, but oh my GOSH she got the most adorable expressions here! All those winks, and that super cute face when she was sipping on her drink ahhh (´⌣`)

Rena is just as tsundere as I imagined. Actually, I’d say she comes off even more prickly in this episode compared to the game. I really hope people give her a chance, because Rena is such a nice girl with a huge soft heart ;___; Hoping that they’ll include a bit of the revelations in her Magical Girl Story so that anime-only fans can get a better idea of the reasons behind her behaviour >_<

And Kaede? The little bean was cute enough in the game already, but seeing her in animated form just confirmed that Kaede Akino is probably one of the cutest anime characters I will ever encounter in this lifetime. THE LEVEL OF CUTENESS WAS ILLEGAL. Precious child must be protected at all costs.

The witch fight was short, but man do I adore the music they use for these battles. (Reminds me a bit of “Magia” from the original PMMM anime.) Iroha leaping into the witch labyrinth was super cool (the witches in MagiReco really love public transport, huh xD), and I love how they show her transformation in a different way each time. I wasn’t expecting the Connect to make it into the anime, since I always thought it was just a game mechanic, but it’s a nice addition to the magical girl world and really goes to emphasise the importance of teamwork and partnerships in Kamihama :)

Mitama didn’t make an appearance, and while I’m a bit disappointed, I think having her be absent while Iroha and the others were at her place actually adds more mystery to her character. It was also really nice to finally get a larger view of the Adjuster’s, and the anime did a really good job at illustrating the mysterious, mystical nature of it all. The dark lighting with the super bright back wall, the strange objects scattered around, the emptiness (almost like your voice and footsteps will echo)... I’m really looking forward to how Mitama’s going to be portrayed in the anime!

Also interesting to note that Kuroe has literally disappeared already lol. I wasn’t expecting her to stick around for long, but that disappearance was even more abrupt and “unexplained” than I was expecting. All we see is Iroha trying and failing to contact her (which is important; the writers didn’t just forget or write her off with no explanation at all). I doubt they’d create a new character just for those few lines last week, so I’m almost certain that she’ll appear again at some point. (Maybe as a member of the Wings of Magius?)

The scene at the burger place was also very well done. Props to the writers for managing to capture so many essential facets of Team Momoko in one scene. Their personalities, their values, their relationships - we get a pretty nice and concise glimpse into the workings of this team with just one argument. And the shifting stickers on the wall? A perfect way to convey the characters’ thoughts, reveal more about their personalities, and retain that futuristic architecture thing that the PMMM anime had.

Rena’s shape-shifting power was also shown very nicely (such a convenient power hehe), and while I knew the Ren cameo was coming, I didn’t expect it to be that long! I really hope the MagiReco anime doesn’t fall into the trap of introducing too many characters too quickly just to cater to the fans, so this kind of “cameo” technique might be a nice way for other minor megucas to make small appearances that please their fans but don’t disrupt the flow and coherence of the main story.

And as for the Rumour? Creepy. I expected nothing less. The thing about writing names on the staircase was a nice and interesting change, and I never imagined the kidnapping to be that terrifying. It’s dark in an artistic way, rather than relying on gore and shock value (which a lot of dark magical girl anime tend to fall victim to), and does a really nice job at recapturing the tone of the PMMM anime while introducing something new at the same time.

The episode ended on a frustrating cliffhanger, so I’m already impatient to find out what happens next! Really excited to see how they portray the fight with the Rumour and seeing more of Rena and Kaede’s friendship. I’m assuming that Mitama and Mayu will be appearing next (wonder what Mayu’s role will be? another cameo appearance like Ren?), and it looks like we’ll have to wait until Episode 4 to see the mightiest magical girl >_< 

Oh, and that ED was gorgeous! I’m surprised that Iroha wasn’t included at all, but it’s nice to see Yachiyo getting all the spotlight to herself! She’s gorgeous as usual, and while the real-life shots caught me off-guard and made me furrow my eyebrows a bit during my first viewing, in retrospect, I think it’s a pretty creative touch. Lots of symbolism (which I won’t go into xD), and the song is amazing!

MagiReco anime continues to keep me hooked and excitedly awaiting each new installment! Here’s to hoping that they keep this momentum going! ^3^

[sinnerchrono-blog1]

Shicca First Date

Rating: T

Summary: Rebecca had been talking to this man for about three months now and was eagerly waiting for him for their date...hopefully he doesn't disappoint her this time.

A/N: Yo guys! It's Shicca week and this is pretty late, but hopefully I get to get the other prompts finished by this Sunday!

□□

The restaurant was filled with bustling people, waiters coming in and out of the kitchen constantly and the decor very exquisite and fine. It was a restaurant that spelled out romance. Almost all the white linen covered tables were filled with couples, holding hands across the tables, some women giggling into their hands and some men puffed up with the chance of pleasing their women tonight.

Meanwhile all the lovey dovey scene was unfolding, a sandy blonde young woman sat alone at the center table, the only thing in her hand was not the hand of her late date, but a full glass of water. Her countenance wasn't one filled with happiness, but one filled with worry, and disappointment.

Rebecca sighed, feeling silly for waiting for her probably no show date, but she had hope that he would walk through the door any minute. The only thing that was probably contradicting her positive vibe was the fact that there was no call, no text, no nothing from her date to be.

She had been talking to the man for about 3 months now, in the first month it was just friendly, the in the second month there was flirting, small hand holding, and prolonged hugs. The only thing was that while the flirting and the sparks were obviously there, there was no talk about actually starting to be a couple.

The month after that however was when she realized that she did want a real and sure thing and mentioned that to her admirer. He agreed, saying he wanted the same thing as her. Setting up a date however was very difficult.

Often he would cancel last minute, the late night texts were becoming less frequent and he seemed to be avoiding her phone calls any way he could. She thought it was her mind playing tricks on her, but every day she felt less secure about herself, wondering that maybe he did lose interest. That is until she walked up to him and demanded to know what was going on, and if he was even still interested in her. He assured her that yes he was, and was actually thinking of calling her that morning.

He was the one that set up this date and this time, there was no text or phone call about him running late. An hour had already past.

She still had hope. He was very sweet, and he seemed kind...but-

Rebecca heard footsteps coming her way and she looked up rather quickly, sat up a little straighter and pushed back a loose curled strand of hair behind her ear. Her face fell when she realized that it was just the waiter. His eyes seemed sympathetic and she felt embarrassed by her obvious eagerness.

"Miss...perhaps now would be a good time to order?" He hesitantly took his notepad out, not even bothering to pull out his black pen already knowing her answer. She shook her head.

"I'm still...waiting. He's just running a little late." He nodded, smiled sympathetically, and walked away from her table. She sighed, upset that her date was totally testing her patience and was about to stand up to walk away after all until she heard someone coming her way. She didn't bother to look at whoever it was, most certainly it was not him.

"Damn, Becca. Still here by yourself?" Rebecca quickly looked up, her bluebell eyes falling straight onto the raven haired man standing in front of her table.

"Shiki!" She exclaimed, shocked that her best friend was here. She heard some murmurs and looked around, seeing that her loud shrill voice annoyed some of the couples around. She cleared her throat, feeling her face flush. "W-What on earth are you doing here?" She whispered.

Shiki plopped himself at the open seat in front of her, his arms crossed against his torso. She noticed how he was still wearing his mechanics suit, his red jacket over the grimy clothes. She wondered how on earth anyone let him in looking like that, but Shiki didn't really care about that sort of thing. He probably snuck by the hostess at the front.  

"I've actually been waiting around the block. Everytime I passed by the window you were still alone...aren't you on a date?" Rebecca gaped at him. Embarrassed at his admittance and for seeing that she had been alone for more than an hour already.

"H-He's running late." Her voice wobbled, not believing even herself in that moment. Shiki raised his eyebrow.

"Wow. Again? This guy can't even care enough to show up on time?"

"He's was probably stuck on something. You know how hard he is on studying and interning. Most likely caught up in that." Her finger traced onto the intricate designs on the tablecloth, not daring to meet Shiki's eyes. She knew he would never judge her, but he knew enough about the guy to probably guess what was going on.

It was silent for a moment, Rebecca continuing to trace over the pattern on the tablecloth, she dared a peek into Shiki's eyes and felt her heart speed up a little at his serious face. His midnight eyes staring straight into her bluebell ones.

"I don't think he's gonna come." Rebecca's shoulders slumped, her mouth turned down more than before.

Hearing someone come their way, Rebecca turned her eyes away from the raven haired man only to fall upon the same waiter. He seemed a little surprised at the way Shiki was dressed, but quickly took out his notepad and pen, smiling nonetheless.

"I see that your date was a little occupied after all." Rebecca blinked back at his statement, her mind reeling. She then felt her face start to heat up realizing that the waiter thought that Shiki was the man she was meeting.

"O-Oh no! You see-"

"Yup! That would be me!" The woman snapped her head back to Shiki, her eyes wide with disbelief and her face rivaling a tomato. "Name's Shiki!" He grinned, holding his hand out to the waiter. Rebecca saw how the waiter hesitated to shake his hand because of the obvious black smears on it. "Oh!" Shiki exclaimed quickly rubbing it against his clothed leg then holding it out once more. The wiping didn't help his case, but he seemed pleased with it. The waiter chuckled slightly then slowly shook Shiki's hand.

"I am Daniel. I will be your waiter tonight." Daniel smiled. Shiki grinned.

"Awesome!" The bubbly man exclaimed. Rebecca then felt her stomach growl loudly, causing her to grab the attention of the two men. The woman smiled, embarrassed, her body scooting down a little on the seat as Shiki laughed. The waiter seemed amused.

"Hey, Daniel? Do you happen to have any burgers here? We're starving." The mechanic inquired happily. The waiter nodded and was about to open his mouth to ask which kind of burger until Shiki cut in. "I'll get whatever she's having. Rebecca always get picks the best in burger joints."

"This isn't a burger joint, Shiki." Rebecca corrected. Shiki shrugged.

"Well they have burgers and stuff." Rebecca sighed, already knowing it was really no use in trying to tell Shiki that this was a fancy restaurant.

"I'll have the Curry Burger and I would like the meat medium rare please." Rebecca smiled, the waiter nodded in response, jotting down her and Shiki's order quickly.

"It'll be on it's way. I'll take your menus. Would you like anything to drink?"

"A lemonade, please." Rebecca said.

"And I'll have a coke, thanks." Shiki added in. The waiter smiled, grabbed their menus and quickly took off to the kitchen. Shiki slouched in his seat, rubbing his stomach. "Man, I'm hungry. Hope it doesn't take long."

"...You know. You could've grabbed a bite to eat instead of wandering around the street." The woman stated. "And you didn't have to lie to the waiter."

"Daniel." Shiki cut in.

"You didn't have to lie to Daniel." Rebecca crossed her arms. Shiki's face turned serious once again, causing her to lose her focus a little.

"I didn't lie. It's a date." He stated, his voice deep. Rebecca gaped again, then broke out of her stupor.

"Shiki. I don't want a date out of pity-" she started, displeased.

"Nah. It's not like that. Promise. I've actually wanted to do this with you -- and you're looking like at me funny again. Flies can literally fly into you mouth right now." Rebecca snapped her open mouth shut. She could feel her face burning at his admittance and she knew that he was telling the truth. Shiki was always honest with whatever he said.

"Y-You have? Why didn't you say anything?" She asked, curious. Shiki shrugged then looked away, his eyes annoyed.

"Well. You were all hung up on that no good guy. But since he ain't coming and you don't have a boyfriend, figured I'd just come out and say it now." He scratched his head, face a little flushed. "You're really awesome, Bec...and if that guy can't see that then it's his loss. He doesn't deserve you." Rebecca's heart only beated faster with every word that Shiki spoke. He was a very down to earth person and was always honest in what he felt. She could always trust in him to be true.

"How long did you feel this way for?" She whispered. Shiki shrugged.

"First time we met, actually."

"...Really?"

"Well, yeah. But of course I wanted to be your friend! I'm not gonna be your friend just for that!" Shiki stammered. Rebecca grabbed his hand from across the table, silencing him.

"I get it. I trust you, Shiki. I know you're not gonna do things just to get something in return." The woman smiled softly, pleased that he relaxed under her touch. She felt him return the touch, holding her hand as well. Shiki's hand felt warm and he stared at their locked hands in thought.

"I know I said this was a date without asking you...If you don't want this to be--"

"It's our first date." Rebecca grinned. Shiki blinked back in surprise.

"R-Really?" His voice cracked, then he cleared his throat. "You're not doing this just to be nice right?"

"Of course not. I want this to be our first date, Shiki." She tightened her hold on his hand, trying to convey how truthful she was being about it. The man stared into her eyes, then nodded grinning.

"ALRIGHT!" he shouted, making everyone turn their heads their way again. Rebecca shrinked a little, but laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Ah, sir...I'm gonna ask that you quiet down a little." One of the waiters passing by said.

"Huh? Was I really that loud?"

●●●

Their first date continued, their conversation only seeming to be just like always. Rebecca always felt relaxed with Shiki, glad that he was there to lift up her night. Their food eventually came and it was as delicious as it seemed on the menu. Rebecca was in heaven and Shiki enjoyed the meal as well, pleased to see her being happy and humming as she ate her meal.

The night continued, their laughter and their personalities brightening up their night. After their little argument about who was paying what ("What?! No Shiki this is a lot for only two! I'll pay for it!" "Come on, Bec! It's not a big deal!), then deciding to split the bill and give a tip to Daniel, their waiter, they both decided to take a stroll down the old park where they first met in high school.

Shiki parked his blue 1997 Chevrolet pick up, stepped out, then opened the passenger door for Rebecca.

"After you, Milady." He grinned, bowing and holding out his hand. Rebecca giggled and played along, placing her small one in his.

"Why thank you, kind Sir." Shiki's smile only brightened more at her response. They both didn't let go after that.

The stars we dimmed by the light pollution of the city, but Shiki was still able to tell which constellation was what, happily showing them to the woman. His excitement about stars and space in general was always so passionate and Rebecca knew that one day he would be able to reach the stars like he said he wanted. Shiki was always so confident and positive. There was no doubt in her mind that he would reach his dreams.

After pushing each other on the swings, lounging and talking on the park bench, and Shiki trying to go down the small slide, they decided that it was getting late into the night and Rebecca needed to be home to rest up for her morning classes. They hopped into the pick up truck and Shiki headed towards her apartment.

The raven haired man parked his pick, opened the door for the woman and helped her out of the truck, held her hand and walked with her to the apartment. Rebecca wished the night never ended. It was always like that with Shiki. He was just really fun and comfortable to be around and always made her laugh. At her door, Shiki let go of her hand, causing Rebecca to miss his warmth.

"That was a fun first date." Shiki smiled, blushing a little. Rebecca nodded in agreement.

"It was. I'm glad that I spent it with you." Rebecca stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her ear against his chest. She smiled when she heard his heart racing, feeling hers beat in time with it. "Thank you, Shiki." She felt his arms wrap around her body in return, tightening the embrace.

"I wanted to have this date with you remember? I'm glad you enjoyed it, Bec." He pulled away, his hands dropping from her body and Rebecca stepped back. "Goodnight! I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Yeah. Just don't be late for class alright? You're always sleeping in. Surprised they haven't dropped you." Rebecca scoffed. Shiki chuckled.

"You know she's never gonna drop me. Ha Ha! But -- uh -- yeah. I'm not gonna show up late...she's my grandpa's old friend, but -- uh -- yeah. She sort of told me to not show up late anymore." He nervously laughed.

"She scolded you didn't she?" Rebecca smirked.

"She's scary when she's upset! Okay?!" He defended. Rebecca laughed in response. "It's true!"

"Okay, okay. I believe you. Don't worry." The man only pouted and crossed his arms. Rebecca turned to her door and got out her keys from her little white purse, unlocked her door, then stepped inside. "Well, goodnight, Shiki. I'll see you tomorrow." Shiki smiled and waved, then started walking towards his car. As soon as he turned his back towards her, Rebecca closed her door. As soon as her door shut Happy pranced towards her, rubbing his furry, feline body against her, purring.

"Aw! Hi, Happy. Did you miss me, boy?" She babied. Happy only meowed in response. After placing her keys and purse onto the little vanity by her door, she gently picked up her Russian blue cat and held him against her body, her phone still in her hand. After placing Happy onto her bed, she laid down and unlocked her phone, seeing a message in her notifications. She quickly opened it, thinking that maybe the guy did text her only to find that it was Shiki's message, which did not disappoint her. She smiled as she read it

Hope you rest well, Bec!

Rebecca sighed happily and replied.

You as well, Shiki!

●●●

Hope you're having a good morning <3

Rebecca read that the following morning, scoffing. If he thought she was gonna answer him he had another thing coming. She wasn’t even sure if she was even going to confront him today.

She found herself being the one late to her first class. Luckily her professor didn't give her any trouble since this was her first time being late. The two first morning classes went by smoothly and seemingly quick, and already she was feeling a little nervous for her next one.

The man she was supposed to have met with last night was taking that course with her.

Rebecca walked in the classroom, somewhat relieved and disappointed that he didn't show. She didn't really feel like confronting him anyway.

Unless that's what she thought until after class. She walked by the courtyard and saw him sitting on a bench that was slightly concealed by the bushes. Curious she walked closer to him finding that he was not alone.

Another woman was with him. Rebecca noticed that it was the girl she and he were acquainted with in the same class. They were holding hands, talking and laughing together. Rebecca wondered if the girl knew about their "mutual affection" at all. All Rebecca knew was that either way, she had to talk to him anyway. He made her think he was all fine with her and then suddenly to find him like this?

She walked up to them, finding that as soon as she got closer, he let go of the girls hand rather quickly, eyes wide and causing the girl next to him stare at him in confusion.

"Hey, Rebecca!" He smiled. Rebecca wanted to laugh, but held herself.

"Missed you last night...But I'm glad you didn't show up for our date." He looked at her, seemingly dumbfounded.

"What is she talking about?" The girl next to him asked. He seemed to stutter, but the girl only seemed to get more upset after his long silence.

"I'm guessing you didn't know about our mutual thing going on. But it's fine. It was over last night." She then faced the man again. "Hope you're happy." Rebecca stated. She walked away from the couple, not realizing and exactly caring that she was walking towards the science building and entered into it. She walked into the women's restroom, glad that that there was no one, and breathed. She breathed steadily and made sure to count, slowing it until it was at a regular pace. After she was done, she walked out of the bathroom and was surprised to find a hall full of students walking into their next class. She started walking to her own until she bumped into a broad chest. She felt hands on her shoulders.

"Whoa, Rebecca. What's the hurry?" A deep voice asked. She looked up to find Weisz's blue eyes and noticed a figure standing behind him. Shiki. Rebecca shook out of Weisz's hold.

"Just heading to our class. I don't want to be late." Rebecca answered. Weisz smirked.

"Well, class begins in like seven minutes. You've got plenty of time." The blonde man chuckled. Rebecca's frown deepened, and walked past him. She wasn’t in the mood if Weisz felt like flirting with her today.

"Whoa what did I say?!" Weisz exclaimed. Rebecca ignored him, but made the mistake of meeting Shiki's eyes staring right at her face. Rebecca's large steps faltered, almost tripping on her feet until Shiki grabbed her arm to help her.

"Hey, Bec. You okay?" Shiki whispered. Rebecca saw that her vision was misting over, and she tightened her throat to hold it in. She shrugged.

"I'm fine."

Shiki didn't seem to buy it and held her hand, leading her away from the crowd.

"Where are you two going!?" Weisz yelled, confused.

Shiki and her walked out of the building, hands still clasped as he lead her to the back where no one was around to over hear them.

"What's going on?" Shiki asked. "You don't seem okay." Rebecca sighed. She already knew Shiki had a crush on her now, so she wouldn't know how he would react to whatever she was holding in, but she did trust him.

"You know that guy I was supposed to meet with last night?" Shiki nodded. "Well guess who found him cozying it up with another girl?" Her voice cracked and she felt her tears run down her face. She gave a wet chuckle then frowned. After a moment of silence she curiously peeked into Shiki's eyes and saw anger on his face.

"That fucking asshole! What the fuck?! Where did you find him?" He looked around as he said this

"Whoa! Hey Shiki!" She called, resting her hands on his cheeks, making him look at her. "It's done."

"But he still-"

"I know...I know...It's just not worth it." She sighed, letting go of Shiki. She felt arms wrap around her, finding herself in his embrace. Rebecca sighed, wrapping her arms around him as well.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Just upset you know. It'll pass though. It's not worth it." She assures. Shiki sighed and tightened his hold.

"Just...I'm here for you. Okay?" Rebecca nodded against his shoulder, then pulled away.

"Still. I'm glad he didn't show up though. It was a great night that I got to spend with you." The girl smiled. "You're a great date." Shiki beamed at that.

"Really?" He asked. Rebecca giggled and nodded. "Awesome! Can't wait to go on more with you!...That is if it's alright with you."

"Definitely. I loved it. I'm sure more dates with you will be amazing." her smile softened. She deserved happiness and Shiki was such a wonderful man to be around. And truth be told she did have a little crush on him since last night, she scrunched her face in thought. No. She had a crush on him before, she didn't want to admit it to herself, but since meeting that guy she thought she had moved on from Shiki after all. She would never really know right now however. And even if he didn’t like her like that, she knew with just his friendship, she’d be just as satisfied. She broke out of her stupor when Shiki pushed back a strand of curled hair behind her ear softly, causing Rebecca to blush intensely.

"Well you're amazing, Rebecca. That guy's lost for not seeing it. Now I get to have you." Shiki grinned. The girl felt her heart pound hard in her chest and buried her face against Shiki's chest.

"I-I guess you do." She stammered. She felt Shiki tightened his hold on her, and she knew that she'd be more than okay.

[twistedxsobriety]

&& I JUST CAN'T WALK AWAY—

Tales of love and renaissance were not quite his thing. Instead, he saunters the murky harbors of stale pipe dreams. Solitary it was, knowing in the midst of the lot, he lacked that special thing to love, coax, adorn—an exclusive treasure to call his own. Neglecting the scornful spats beckoned to his wake, dejection hadn't consulted any allaying to the seeds he sown. Once upon a tale, there was one thing that struck blares of hope and prospect on cloudy days; him. Perhaps melancholia been the culprit to the ailing each annual July 4th; some mental trauma fixated him the inability to steer away. "'Allo, Angleterre~ moping t’e day away like t’e hermit unwilling to change. 'ow sad to be so unattractive, ohn-honhon !" It all comparable to the rubbish he tossed away, to make an end of his uses; England had nothing to rebut to the banters of his rivaled France. Lips pursed, stifling what he could of a breaking down. His coping mechanism reflected with venom as toxic as a pit of vipers. "Don't get me wrong, my seclusion is by all means intentional. I'd rather it be so that I not waste my moments frolicking to every failed interpretation of love that sets off your pocket rocket. Should you know what's best for you, you best belt up before you soon regret it!" A brandishing of an elbow ensued the preferred distance he so reluctantly longed for. "Ahhh, you brute! T’is is why you're a Black Sheep! You're fated to be alone with t’at attitude!" Yelped the Frenchman in retreat, leaving Britain bothered by his words: his curse. Truth be told; jealousy aged him bitter. No one to convey these emotions to, he cloaked himself with a starch and ironed face. No one will judge you, if you're strong. He humors himself to the same fib, muddled by the phantoms of a smiling male: cerulean orbs like the Atlantic which set their worlds apart. Sometimes, he sought the refuge of his magical kin to nurse away his guilt. However, no amount of grimoire or knowledge of alchemy could sate his inner turmoil. He yearned to reach him, to touch the youthful shine of his hair with a sincere ruffle—context evolved without his permit. This pang striking his chest cavity worried him at times. He chose to forego attending it. Each memory lapsed of America drifted them further; no longer England's esteem, he was born solely to be liberated ... to be free. From that day forth, he decreed to never give his heart to anyone. He didn't know how to use it. 178 years advanced; and his eyes set glimpse onto she. A woman of radiance behind a mundane physical comprehension. Unable to depict the charms which abide to her strive, the Glory of Wales, prided her the name: Diana. Feelings he vowed to hinder from submerging crept back into fruition. He found his days marveling her growth, her delights, her eyes. A smile left his lips, shy of this blooming. Visage of him ebbed away gradually. The relationship flowered until Fortune turned a folly of him. Who were he to entrust that he could let go? August 31st, 1997. The media roared and rolled; presses fighting tooth and nail to get a parcel of the unforeseen event that transpired. In the Land of the Free, a young man lowered a partially consumed burger, gazing at the breaking news which struck the world by storm. Apprehension stirred his adrenaline—musing him to spring from his seat; he refused. The pride in him didn't want to come off as concerned ... yearning. Instead, he sought for the receiver of a polished black phone. Each string of rings shifted his confidence into a fear of failure. Why wouldn't he answer, damn it!? He took a breath and reached out for his world map; a tender brush of fingertips along the stationary, he dismisses it and takes up an older article eroding with age. The sepia still faintly legible on the papers fragility. He contemplates; eventually, making up his mind. Seven hours felt like an eternity, whisking him away in the cruelty of a deaf labyrinth. Voices reached for him, but none connected; only one mattered—the source of his anxiousness. Never before did he sprint from an air dock without surveying the concession stands. His arms, albeit toned, stamina robust—his body felt the heave of lead; denial, panic, dread. Pandemonium housed his ration, bearing a strengthened fist to bang upon the quaintly painted wooden door—naive to the buzzer set beside him. Recklessness was rewarded when the door opened. Silence as frail as it was, ceased the moment their hues met. What's a SEA to an OCEAN? Both avast bodies of water, except... "B-Britain?" His voice staggered in the moment he learned his expression. One; you can actually reach its FLOOR. The breath pillaged the British male, pummeled by the skeletons he long thought buried. His world contorted in the loss of Diana, downright came to shambles to see the first man to confide him being the one he hated losing the most. London bridges falling down, he shields his anguish behind closed eyes. Turning heel to retreat his presence—request him away, a tug of the arm halted his motives for refuge. Anger—no. Something else shook him entirely. It wasn't the whimsical loud mouth he'd grown to deplore. Without obliging his glance, he felt the gelid stare pricking daggers upon him. He quivered, hating the next that that took place. One thing he'd been given at birth, but absolutely the one thing he didn't entitle the American to receive. "A...Arthur...?" Damn the tears that welled and flooded over. Curse the warmth of burly arms coaxing him for better days. He didn't like this—he refused to resign! His heart veered on autopilot, desperately trying to pick up the pieces and mend them. Enamel picked down onto his bottom tear, frightened of the whimpers he stifled. He could feel his breathing kiss the senses of his nape; his heartbeat flowing through and patting his back. The throbbing migraine numbed his defenses, pacified all the fight he had left in him. Rebellion meant failure; the more he shoved and weaved, the deeper he sunk in. That voice strumming chills down his spine, and heat to his lungs. It was agonizing to withhold, his body took upon instinct and surrendered the devastation he held under lock and key. "GOD, TELL ME WHY!? GIVE HER BACK TO ME!!!" He exclaims, losing power in his tone. Choking upon the tears he for so long ignore. "I ...I LOVED HER!" He exclaims, losing strength in his knees. They buckled but the embrace of something he hadn't entirely abandoned gave him reason to stay. ... and I can't go back to loving you. __________________ POST NOTES:   This is a relatively old sample of mine.  Long story short:  England is learning to cope from America’s liberation.  He does so in finding true love, all for it to be snatched away from him... Upon study, I’ve learned that with French accents “th” does not exist; sounding more like a singluar “t” sound - which is why I wrote France’s dialog in that manner.  I wanted to reflect on a historical event.  In this case being the death of Princess Diana and reflect how England reacted to it. I personify England as the SEA - despite his behavior, you can reach through to his feelings. America being the OCEAN - much more complex; you think you know, but you can’t grasp it. SAMPLE TITLE REFERENCE:  “Brakes” by Royworld.

[losingmymindtonight]

Tony knowing Peter's order (coffee, ice cream, whatever) without having to ask

Peter really, really loved Friendly’s.

Like, really loved it.

Tony didn’t really know why, exactly. It wasn’t like he saw anything exceptional about a chain restaurant selling sub-par diner food. And yet, the kid’s face always lit up whenever they drove past one.

And that’s how Tony Stark found himself frequenting nearly every single Friendly’s on the drive from Midtown to the Tower.

It was their thing, a mode of unspoken communication. Peter would slip into his car, radiating the brand of exhaustion that only stems from some shitty high school drama, and Tony would wordlessly pull into the closest Friendly’s.

The kid was give him a tentative smile, and by the end of the meal, he’d be motor-mouthing his way through some random story. He couldn’t really tell if it was the food, or the atmosphere, or, and this was an option that he only dared to consider after Pepper pointed it out, Tony’s presence in and of itself.

He couldn’t help the hope that it was the latter. That the kid just enjoyed spending time with him.

But either way, Friendly’s belonged to Tony and Peter. It was their turf. A fail-safe place where Peter felt relaxed.

So when Rhodey practically demanded to meet the kid, Tony knew exactly where to take them.

“You can help me pick him up from school tomorrow.” Tony offered, pulling out his phone. “Then we can get some early dinner. Kid’s always half-starved by the last bell. They don’t feed him enough for lunch.”

“Weird that you know that, but sure.”

“Oi.” He shot a glare at the other man. “Do you wanna meet the kid or not?”

“Oh, I wanna meet the kid.” Rhodey smiled at him in a way that made his next words seem a lot less sincere. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Sure you do.”

He opened Peter’s messages and shot him a quick text. Kid deserved a fair warning, after all.

TS: Mind having an after school snack with Rhodey tomorrow? He’s dying to meet you.

It took the teenager all of five seconds to reply.

Kids these days.

PP: mr. rhodes??? yes!!! yes yes yes!!! !!!

God, he really hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

Peter slid into the back of the Audi with a shaky smile on his face. Tony gave him what he hoped was a calming glance before pulling out of the pick-up line and onto the road.

“Hey, Pete.”

Rhodey blinked at the nickname, then added his own greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”

“H-Hi Mister Rhodes, Sir. I, uh, I’m, well I’m Peter. But you… already knew that cause you said my name, so…”

The Colonel chuckled, glancing at Tony. “Do you really scare the kid that much?”

“He doesn’t scare me!” Peter blushed at his outburst, shyly dropping his eyes to his knees. “I-I mean, I, uh, I just…”

“He stutters when he’s nervous.” Tony switched lanes and glanced at Peter fondly in the rear-view mirror. “He’ll get over it in a second, don’t worry.”

Peter blinked. “I-I don’t, I don’t stutter, Mister Stark.”

“Sure ya don’t, kiddo.” He took note of how red the poor kid’s face was and sighed. “Take a breath. You’re alright. I promise that Rhodey’s entirely un-threatening.”

“I’m not nervous.”

Teenagers: the most stubborn brand of humans on the planet.

“Mhm.”

“I’m not.”

“I heard you the first time.”

Rhodey intercepted the conversation with a strange look in his eyes. Tony tried not to dwell on it. “So, Peter, got any plans after high school?”

Smooth one, Rhodes.

The kid blinked. “I mean, uh, college? Engineering. P-Probably something biochemical. B-But Mister Stark thinks I should do electrical.”

“That’s because he did electrical.” Rhodey nudged his friend’s elbow. “He’s biased.”

“Oi,” Tony shot back, “don’t tell me you wouldn’t be trying to recruit him for the military if you’d seen him in action. Kid’s brilliant.”

Peter flushed again. “Mister Stark.”

“Don’t ‘Mister Stark’ me. It’s true.”

Rhodey twisted in his seat as best he could, braces whirring. Tony caught him winking at Peter out of the corner of his eye. “So tell me, kid, ever thought about serving your country?”

“No.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so firm, but the concept of Peter in an active war zone made his heart swoop down to his feet. “Hands off, Rhodey. Get your impressionable youth somewhere else.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Tones,” his best friend stared directly at him, a contemplative look on his face, “didn’t mean to rob your nursery.”

Oh, yeah, Tony thought, I’m definitely going to regret this.

Peter’s face lit up when they pulled up by one of their usual haunts. As soon as they were out of the car, Rhodey dropped back to Tony and nudged him in the side.

“Friendly’s?” Thankfully, the Colonel saw Peter’s excitement and had the good grace to whisper. “Really?”

“He loves them.” He shot him a look. “Don’t ruin it.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Rhodey’s lips as Peter practically skipped through the doors. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Their waitress was a friendly older lady who seemed to have no idea who Tony was. She led them to their table, and Tony pushed Peter into the booth first, eyeing the closest exits silently.

He always put Peter farthest from the door, in whichever spot had the most immediate cover. And today, since Rhodey was here, he could use himself as a human shield.

He’d be between Peter and anything dangerous. Good. That’s exactly how he wanted it to be.

They ordered their drinks and sat quietly for a second. Rhodey seemed to be silently contemplating him and Peter, much to the kid’s obliviousness.

Tony, meanwhile, watched the kid fidget for all of three minutes before sighing heavily and sliding out of the booth.

“Go on, kid.”

Peter just looked at him. “What?”

“Don’t act like I can’t tell you need to pee, bud. So go.”

Tony set an internal reminder to let the kid do something very unstressful when they got back to the Tower. He could practically taste his anxiety. “I-I’m good, Mister, uh, Mister Stark.”

“Go, Pete.”

The kid relented, awkwardly shuffling away while running a nervous hand through his hair.

Rhodey had half-opened his mouth to speak when the waitress returned, setting their drinks down and addressing them with a too-bright smile.

“Are you ready to order?”

Rhodey glanced at Peter’s empty seat. “Actually, I think we’ll need-”

Tony, however, was already gathering up their menus from the suspiciously sticky table. “We’re ready.”

The Colonel raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t protest.

The waitress pulled out her pen and flipped her order pad to a fresh page. “Would you like any starters?”

“The mini mozzarella sticks, please.” Tony smothered a stupid smile at the memory of Peter stacking them into a small tower.

“And what else can I get you?”

“I’ll get the Reuben.” He gestured to the empty spot beside him. “The kid’ll have chicken tenders with fries, and a grilled cheese.”

The waitress laughed a little. “Big appetite, huh?”

Tony shot her a charismatic smile. “Oh, you’ve got no idea.”

She straightened, a wave of motherliness swooping over her face. “Kid’s are like that, huh? But we love ‘em anyway.”

He bit his lip briefly before shrugging, passing his and Peter’s menus into her outstretched hand. “Sure do.”

She gave him another gentle smile before redirecting her attention to Rhodey. “And for you, Sir?”

He seemed to flail for a minute, still blindsided by Tony’s easy agreement. Then, he shook his head and let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just have the All-American Burger.”

“Lovely.” She flipped her pad shut. “It’ll be out shortly. Oh,” she shot Tony a wink, “and be sure to flag me down again when your youngster demands his ice cream.”

Tony winked back, enjoying the way it seemed to further his best friend’s slow decent into madness. “I will.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Rhodey fixed him with a serious stare. “Holy shit, Tones. The kid’s, what, thirteen?”

“He’s fifteen. We picked him up from a high school, Rhodes. Get your math straight.”

“Like I know what age kids are in high school these days.” After a moment’s hesitation, the man pressed on. “You shouldn’t, either, by the way.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Tony Stark.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “So, spill. How long have you known?”

“Known what?”

“About Peter.” Rhodey gestured at the faded backpack sitting by Tony’s feet. “Why didn’t the mother come clean when he was born? Or did she, and have you been hiding it this whole time?”

Suddenly, his best friend’s thought process dawned on him. “He’s not mine, Rhodey. Jesus. Not biologically, anyway.”

“You know his order, Tony. That waitress just insinuated that he was yours and you didn’t correct her.”

He sighed, already tired by the conversation. “He’s not mine.”

The Colonel didn’t look convinced. “Then what is this?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, alright? It’s just… the kid’s my responsibility.”

“Why in the world would he be-”

“Hey, Mister Stark.”

Tony shot Rhodey a look that clearly conveyed a message of shut it, and slid out of the booth to let Peter in. “Hey to you too, kiddo. Enjoy yourself?”

The kid scrunched up his face. “That’s gross.”

He laughed, ruffling his hair a bit as they settled back into their seats. “So, tell Rhodey and I about school today. Learn anything groundbreaking?”

“It’s high school, Mister Stark. I can’t think of anything less groundbreaking than high school.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” He smirked. “Guess I’ll have to teach you something revolutionary in the lab to day, as compensation.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peter gazed up at him with adoring eyes. “What?”

“Dunno.” He forced himself not to shift under the weight of trust he could see on the kid’s face. “I’ll think of it on the spot.”

They were interrupted by their waitress setting down a plate of mozzarella sticks at the center of the table.

“Oh, cool!” Peter popped one into his mouth, then winced when it burned. Tony just rolled his eyes and shoved his lemonade into his hand. “Did you order while I was gone?”

“Yep. Don’t worry. I got you your chicken tenders.”

“Mm.” He smiled brightly as soon as he’d swallowed his mouthful of stringy cheese. “I knew you would.”

He elbowed him in the side, careful to be gentle despite the kid’s super strength. “You want ice cream after?”

Somehow, no matter how much Tony spoiled Peter, every new offer lit up in his eyes like starlight. “Can I?”

He gave Peter a fond smile, the one that he never seemed capable of replicating when the kid was absent, forgetting all about Rhodey’s watchful gaze. “Of course, buddy.”

“Awesome!” Peter broke one of the mozzarella sticks in half. “Are you gonna get some, too?”

If he was being honest, he didn’t really want ice cream. But he also knew that Peter would feel more comfortable asking for it if Tony did too, so ice cream it was. “Duh.”

One glance at Rhodey affirmed that he’d be going through some rigorous questioning later.

But than again, he’d sit through a thousand interrogations if he could make Peter smile like that again.

He blinked at the thought.

Damn it. I’m in deep, aren’t I?

[to-the-disco-kiszka]

The Boys and a Woman

Summary:  An older woman is signed on as a sketch artist to tour with Greta Van Fleet.  A woman living on a bus with four young rock stars, what do you think is going to happen?

Note:  Sort of a different storyline than most of the works I’ve seen out there.  I hope you enjoy it.  It’s a bit of a slow burn but the build up is going to be worth it, I promise.

The boys were chilling out at their hotel after that evening’s performance.  Josh wasn’t feeling the beer tonight so he went down to the bar in the lobby to get himself a salty dog.  He downed one while sitting at the bar, and got a second one to go.  He was wandering back up to their suite when he noticed the door to a nearby room was ajar.  He glanced into the room and saw it was the artist chick.  He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to her yet but she had made quite an impression when she was introduced to them earlier in the day.

………………………………

She stood in the doorway of the dressing room, ‘Mind if I crash your party?’  Their tour manager had told them about her, that they were bringing in an artist to sketch them in action.  ‘I’m Andi, the artist chick.’  She was short, sharply dressed with blonde hair piled on top of her head.  They thought it would be the typical photographer/magazine/radio station/interview/meet and greet.  Same generic questions, same generic shots.  A generic blur.  But just by her presence they could tell this was not going to be typical.

Danny was sitting on the arm of a couch while Sammy was bouncing off the cushions, neither one of them with a shirt on.  Jake was in full regalia sitting across the room, strumming on his acoustic.  Just then Josh came around the corner in full costume, a sparkly colorful jumpsuit.  Andi smirked.  ‘The Ice Capades called.  They want their costume back.’  For a full second there was dead silence.  Then the rest of the boys erupted in laughter while Josh stood there looking hurt.  He pointed towards Jake, his twin, ‘What about him?  He’s wearing an Ice Capades costume.’  She looked Jake up and down. ‘He’s got more of a matador thing going on. With that sleeve length and open chest and bedazzled shoulders.  Even the scarf tied around his neck.  Oh yeah, definitely matador.  As long as you don’t spear innocent animals,’ she looked at him directly.  Jake, who was beaming over his new status, gave a slight shake of his head.  Josh points to Sam and Danny on the couch, ‘What about those two dim-wits?’  Andi replied ‘Well, word on the street is those two can do anything and people love it.  They’re just sexy as hell,’ she said in all seriousness.  And just like that she had won over Sammy and Daniel.  

‘Do you want us to, like, pose on the couch or something?’ asked Jake.  ‘Oh no, you do your thing, I’ll do mine,’ she replied.  She sat off to the side of the room, trying to take up as little space as possible.  She dug out her small sketch pad.  She took in their costumes, the colors, the cut, the embellishments.  Their long hair.  Their choice of this evening’s footwear.  Or lack thereof.

……………………………

Andi is sitting on the bed, her long blond hair swept across the back of her neck and her shoulder, cascading down her chest, almost to her stomach.  She’s in pajama pants and a t-shirt, wearing her glasses.  She’s dividing up a bag of peanut M&M’s and Mike and Ikes into piles, which are sitting next to a big bowl of kettle corn.  Josh gives a quick knock on the door and pops his head in a bit.  ‘Is this an open display of obsessive compulsion disorder?  Or are you counting your stash in a new currency I don’t know about?’  She looks up from her candy and, seeing Josh in the doorway, gives him a big smile. His heart flutters a bit.  Andi seemed genuinely happy to see him.  She says, ‘It’s all about proportions and you don’t want too many of one kind left at the end.  It’s a delicate balance of combining the M&M’s, Mike and Ikes, and the popcorn in your mouth all at the same time.  You get a different taste if you put the candy in your mouth first and then add the popcorn, then if you do popcorn first and then add the candy.’ She pats the bed next to her, indicating he needs to come and try this life-changing concoction for himself.  

He notices Pulp Fiction is playing on the TV and makes a comment that it’s one of Tarantino’s best films, but not the best.  She says it’s in her top four movies of all time. Intrigued Josh says, ‘Which begs the question, what are the other three?’  ‘Wow,’ she grins.  ‘That’s like looking into one’s soul.’  She’s about to start listing them off but then furrows her brow.  ‘Wait, no.  There’s five. I think I have five favorite movies. Five is so much better than four. I mean it’s an odd number so naturally it spices things up.  Spicy is fun.’ He got quite a chuckle out of this.  Just then her attention is drawn to the TV.  Vincent and Jules are in the boys’ apartment, having just tasted the Big Kahuna burger.

Andi:  Did you know they drop the f-bomb 265 times in this movie?

Jules: The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by inequities….

Josh:  Did you know that’s not what Ezekiel 25:17 is in the bible?

….I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger….

Andi:  Did you know Tarantino adapted this from some 70’s Japanese remake.

Josh:  Oh my god. I can’t believe you know that.  I love you.  Marry me.

…..And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.

Josh and Andi both make gun fire sound effects when Vincent and Jules unleash their furry on the guy. She falls back on the bed laughing. He looks down at her with that gorgeous smile he’s known for. And just like that Josh was smitten.

The next afternoon they were back at the arena preparing for their second show.  Jake was wandering around the venue after sound check.  He went down a hallway where there was a door marked ‘Not An Exit.’  He pushed the door open and stepped out into the sunshine.  He was greeted by an unexpected site.  

It was the artist chick, Andi.  Other than being in the dressing room with them before the show last night he hadn’t really seen her.  Her blonde hair was wrapped up and secured at the nape of her neck and she was wearing big vintage sunglasses that went with the vintage jumper she was wearing.  Jake was terrible with ages but guessed she was in her 30’s.

She is squatting on a crate, bent over a flat surface resting on her lap.  She was sprinkling green into paper shaped by her fingers.  She shimmied the paper with both hands, which shimmied the weed into a perfectly dense roll.  She licked the paper and tapped it vertically on the flat book she had on her lap, making sure everything was in its’ proper place.

‘Hmm, you struck me as more of a vaping type of girl,’ Jake smirked.  Actually he didn’t even peg her as someone who would enjoy the herb.  She had a quick response to that.  ‘Fuck that millennial vaping bullshit.  No way.  Pack me a bowl and pass me the pipe.”  She looked down at the joint she was about to light. ��“Or roll it, lick it, and put that paper between my lips.”  And she did just that, lighting it up.  Jake wasn’t expecting any of these words to come out of her mouth.  She just seemed too… mature?  For the smoking and the swearing.  An enormous grin takes over Jake’s face.  Andi looks up at him with her big sunglasses, smiling and passes him the newly lit joint. And just like that Jake was hooked.

After taking a long drag he says, ‘So how does one sketch four guys in constant motion on stage?’ he ventures.  ‘Not that easily,’ she laughs.  She takes the sketchbook from her lap and hands it over to Jake.  ‘They’re just first run sketches.  Working drawings.  Nothing pretty.  Just trying to get the feel of it all.’  He raises his eyebrows, ‘Feel of it all?’  She looks at him, ‘Of you.  And your brothers+.  Your instruments, your costumes, your body language, the lights, the smoke, the angles, the movements.  The hair. It’s a lot to take in,’ she grins.

Jake couldn’t help but smirk at that. He passes her the joint back.  He peels his eyes away from hers and opens the sketchbook.  He didn’t know what he was expecting but this wasn’t what he was expecting.  They were definitely rough drawings but just the quantity of them is notable.  He thumbed through the pages taking in all the images of himself, Josh, Sam, and Danny.  The sketches weren’t very detailed but yet they each conveyed a definite image of an instrument, a costume, body language, lighting, smoke, an angle, a movement, hair.  There were several candid views of them in the dressing room from yesterday.  The colors were intense, alive.

Jake looked down at her, ‘This is amazing.  How do you do this?’  After exhaling she says, ‘Smoking weed is fun.  Sketching is better.  Smoking weed while sketching is the best.’ And just like that Jake was hooked beyond a doubt.

There was a buzz in the air that evening as everyone rushed about setting up for another spectacular Greta Van Fleet concert.  Andi nervously stood on the side of the stage, wondering if the boys even got nervous anymore.  

As yellow ambient lights and blue spot lights and smoke filled the stage Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny launch into The Cold Wind.  The crowd erupts.  She loves the tone of Josh’s voice when he does the ‘hey!’ and ‘hoo yeah!’  It hits just right. She puts her pen to the paper and doesn’t put it down until they play their last note and the lights go down.

After the performance everyone was backstage, boisterous with drinks in hand.  Jake and Sam were sitting on a couch while Josh sat on the arm talking to someone, Danny nearby.  There were lots of young attractive woman around.  Andi was anxious to talk to them.  Josh was the first to see her approach and he jumped off the couch to welcome her over.  Jake smiled at her, ‘More first run sketches?’  She reached for her sketchbook, which is much larger than the one for her working drawings.  ‘I brought the big guns out tonight,’ she smiled back.  She opened up the sketchbook.  The drawings were much more defined than her first run sketches.  There was a half dozen drawings, each one a solo shot of one of the boys.  She had a distinctive flair.  It was something of a throw-back style, like before there were computers.  Each drawing was dated and labeled with the song, the venue, and the city.  

  But she was really betting it all on Danny.  One, because he is the easiest of the four boys to capture on stage.  It was going to take time for her to encapsulate the essence of Josh, Jake, and Sam.  As sexy and powerful as they were on stage, their movements were erratic and complicated to be able to put down on paper.  And secondly, let’s face it.  Danny is the most underrated and least photographed of the four.  Which is a real shame.  He’s sexy as hell.  She thought if she could put a new light on him and make him just as alluring on stage as the rest of them, they would see what she could do for them.

It was larger than the other drawings.  It’s Danny on his drumkit, arms cocked, hair flying.  Colorful stage lights crisscross the background.  The colors are deep, drawing you in.  The left edge of the drawing is a faint outline of Josh, microphone in hand, head back.  His back, leg, and hair subtly create the edge of the drawing.  The boys and a couple people from their management team that were nearby were all jockeying for a better view.  There were ooh’s and ahh’s and pointing and compliments to artist and subject.  And just like that Andi was signed on for the rest of the tour.  

That evening after the show the tour manager was giving her a tour of the bus.  There was a front lounge area with a large tv and couches with various instruments strewn about.  There was a large three-sided booth between the lounge area and the kitchenette.  Then the bathroom and through an automatic door was the crew’s bunkhouse.  It consisted of twelve bunks each with a privacy curtain and individual lighting.  

The tour manager was a bit of a mumbler as he was giving her the low-down on everything.  All she caught was ‘the only bunk’ and something about unique situation.  Walking past the crew’s bunkhouse and through another automatic sliding door to the boys’ bunkhouse she was greeted by Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny.  Each of them with a shit eating grin.  They held out their arms gesturing her towards the only unoccupied bunk.  She stood there a moment with her jaw on the floor.  And then she tipped her head back and laughed before letting out a low throaty ‘Fuuuuuccckkk.’  The boys of course thought this was hilarious.  

Yeah, this isn’t going to be weird at all.