#literally just planted them last year and have done Nothing to them since then

[mossiestpiglet]

Going from a total harvest of 5 strawberries all of last year to 50 so far this year when I haven’t done a single thing to care for these plants at all really isn’t helping convince me to abandon my lazy gardener ways

[sincerelyneo]

sunflower vol 6 | l.hc

“i couldn’t want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor”

💿now playing: sunflower vol 6 by harry styles

❯ summary: Let’s make dinner together, he said. I’ll behave, he said. Honestly, you should have known that was a lie because when it comes to you, Haechan is never on his best behaviour. That’s why he’s sneaking sly touches every time you complete a step in your recipe.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive content

❯ words: 1.4k

❯ tags: tooth rotting fluff, domesticated fluff, swearing, kissing, pet names, literally just hyuck being so boyfriend and them dancing in the kitchen together.

an: i’m a firm believer that harry styles wrote this song about haechan

Hyuck bursts through the front door with a sense of urgency, unable to contain his excitement. It's been months since he last saw you, his girlfriend whom he's more than just a little obsessed with, and the door feels like just another barrier in his way. He thought his job, which requires him to tour for half the year, was obstacle enough.

"Baby, I'm home!" he calls out eagerly, scanning the apartment for any sign of you. Disappointment flickers across his face when he doesn't immediately spot you waiting for him with open arms.

The honeyed tone of his voice instead echoes from the living room to your bedroom, drawing you to him like a magnet. Without wasting a moment, you rush down the stairs and wrap your arms around his neck.

You melt into each other effortlessly, as you always do. Your bodies seem custom-made for one another, fitting together perfectly. You've missed his touch, his warmth, in a way that FaceTime calls could never fulfil. Nothing compares to the physical presence of your Hyuck.

You plant a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his cheek before pulling back to meet his gaze. "You weren't supposed to be home for another four hours. What's going on?"

"I got an earlier flight because I missed you so much," he replies with a grin. 

You shake your head, but a smile still tugs at your lips. You've never encountered a man more smitten and in love than him. It's endearing, really. It's the kind of love his friends would tease him about if he didn't take so much pride in it.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to process the fact that he's here in your living room. You're happy, of course, but you had hoped to be all dolled up for his arrival, not standing in old pyjamas after months apart

"Well... are you hungry? We could order takeout if you want. You can tell me all about that tour that's kept you away from me for what feels like forever," you suggest with a smile, and his eyes soften at the invitation

"Babyyy," he whines, catching you off guard a little. His hands slide to your back, pulling you in by your waist as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "Can't we make dinner together?"

You raise an eyebrow, pulling away to look up at him, his hands still wrapped around you. "By 'we,' you mean me?"

"Of course not. You know I make an excellent sous chef. Restaurants should be grateful I chose music instead of culinary arts.” 

You shake your head, with a grin. "We never get anything done when we cook together. Remember last time?"

He smirks, recalling the memory. "It's not my fault you asked me to get something out of the fridge, and when I turned around, you were bent over the counter showing your ass to me. I couldn't help myself."

You give him a deadpan look but he only smirks more.

"And if we're being honest, I remember you loving it." His arms cross over his chest, the satisfaction in him beaming from knowing that you know he's right. You did enjoy those steamy cooking sessions, but not right now; you're hungry.

"Please, baby, I missed your cooking. Nothing any restaurant can make compares to your food," he pleads. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And although you know better, and you know that there’s no such thing as "best behaviour" with Lee Donghyuck, you still can't resist. And so, you give in. 

Surprisingly, everything goes well. Hyuck isn’t too much of a distraction; instead, he follows your instructions without protest. He grabs ingredients, chops vegetables, and even compliments the head chef— and nothing catches fire.

Progress is being made.

That is until your boyfriend finishes the little tasks you assign him and wraps his arms around your waist while you chop ingredients.

“Hyuck… you promised—”

His plush lips melt against your neck so delicately that you nearly chop off your finger—though Hyuck won’t let that happen, gripping your hands to steady them. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking against your skin.

“I know what I said, Y/N,” he teases. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not trying to help; you’re trying to distract.”

He laughs, “You know… I bought a new record while I was on tour. It has that one song you love.”

You pause, setting the knife down and pressing your hands against the counter as you turn to face him.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “I think we should play it while you cook.”

“I thought we were supposed to be cooking together?” 

Hyuck simply chuckles as he heads over to the record player in your kitchen and sets the record spinning. Soft guitar notes fill the space, and despite your need to focus, you can’t help but smile.

You watch as he dances across the cool kitchen tiles, a smirk on his lips, until he stands behind you. His hand finds your elbow, gently pulling you backwards.

The laugh that spills from you is warm and Hyuck matches it as his hands drift down your arms to your hands, fingers threading together before he pulls you back into his broad, solid chest. 

Strong arms cross your own chest, and the two of you start to sway against each other. The music is quiet and grainy and mixed with the sound of your feet creaking on the floor. 

The two of you float back and forth—a stream of sunlight streams in through the high window. You close your eyes and let the light shift across your eyelids. Hyuck’s lips find your ear, singing softly. The sound was gentle and sweet and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ll never forget the moment I realised I love you.”

You sink further against him, your voice humming as you ask, “Yeah? When was that?”

“The minute I saw you,” he breathes. “You were dancing so carelessly, and I knew then—you were my person. You’ll always be my person.”

You’re grinning like an idiot despite rolling your eyes as you let go of Hyuck’s hands and turn around in his arms. You slide your palms up his chest to wind around the back of his neck, pressing your foreheads together. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he responds easily, smiling with his eyes closed as he continues to sway with you in the tiny kitchen of your tiny apartment. You nod, leaning forward to knock your noses together gently with an exaggerated sigh.

“I do. And I love you. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.”

Hyuck hums, pulling you in closer and starts walking you backwards slowly until your hips rest against the counter. He dips down, curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and effortlessly hoists you up to sit on the edge. You open your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, twisting a perfect little strand around your finger just the way he likes it.

He looks back at you, eyes filled with patience and love. Then he leans in, drawing you into a soft, lazy kiss—because he’s finally home, because he can, because he loves doing it, because it’s all he ever wants to do from now until forever.  You melt against his chest, pressing up into the contact. When you break apart, Hyuck rests his lips against your temple, swaying gently with you in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says softly.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and brush your nose back and forth against his neck as you close your eyes and smile.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

You linger in the warmth of his touch until the sharp beeping of the oven interrupts the moment. You pull away slightly, frowning at the oven’s display.

“Ugh, I forgot I put that in there!” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder to see smoke beginning to curl from the edges.

Hyuck chuckles, but there is no concern creeping into his voice. “Can’t believe my first meal home is going to be charcoal.” 

You rush to the oven, Hyuck close behind. As you open the door, a plume of smoke escapes, and you cough. 

“This is totally your fault! What happened to you not being distracting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I’m obsessed with you.”

[landwriter]

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

[purecommemasolitude]

outsiders week 2024 progress report to hold myself accountable

Sunday, Nov 3 - "gang" or "Ponyboy"

already chosen the fic for this one, it's the one i've been working on for the longest (literally since at least june last year) and i am soo close to being done. there's just one exchange i need to refine because i'm not satisfied with it. but it's book-verse about ponyboy after the track tryouts the same year as everything goes down* not getting the placement he wants and finding a moment of understanding with darry about it because darry's the only one who #gets it. this fic was spun out of that one line in the book where ponyboy says soda never got the importance him or darry placed on athletics

*when i was combing the book to figure out the timeline of track/what grade he was in there was a) never a concrete answer b) a lot of things that could be interpreted in conflicting ways, so i just went with he's a sophomore who was on the track team last year and track tryouts happen in like may or whatever

Monday, Nov 4 - "gold" or "Cherry"

there is a fic already started that's hopefully going to be the one for this day, but also it's probably gonna be long and it's an exploration of musical!cherry's turmoil after bob dies seeing the witch hunt against the greasers (basically it's inspired by the fact that she takes her promise ring off after JFT and not after the break up) and i want to try and do my vision™ justice instead of rushing it so this may not be done in time we'll see. if it's not done i may extract the bit where she finds out about two-bit's jumping from marcia and just post that because it's the part closest to being completed

Tuesday, Nov 5 - "rumble" or "Sodapop"

so i have two started but incomplete fics that could go for this day. one is following musical!soda & darry at home in tulsa while ponyboy is out in windrixville. it's probably my first choice, but this one is also an i don't want it to rush and lose some of its potential in the writing process so we'll see. the other one is a stevepop fic that's largely centered around sodapop's queerness (it's basically a 5 + 1 of members of the gang realizing/revealing that they know that he's not straight. evie is in it with her and steve as each other's beards and she's the catalyst for soda's own realization that he likes men)

Wednesday, Nov 6 - "hair grease" or "Darry"

fic chosen and started for this one too! (this is what i was up until like 2:00 yesterday working on 🤪) it's musicalverse again and it's gonna follow a possible explanation for why darry's called darrel now, aka him slowly transitioning to going by darrel after the death of their parents and the reasoning and rationale for that change

Thursday, Nov 7 - "rodeo" or "Bob"

...okay for this one i truly have no idea. i want to keep it vaguely on-theme for the prompts even if i end up not following them, but the two other soc-related fics i have simmering are ones that i want to also not rush and really make sure they're the best i can get them (asian!paul exploration and marbit's journey post-book) so probably not those two tbh. two ideas that i have are snapshots of various characters reacting to his death, though i haven't picked a universe for that yet, or something following the non-character prompts for once and maybe some of the characters as kids at a rodeo? i'll be honest the only rodeo experiences i've had that i can really remember are riding the docile horses on like a real-horse carousel so basically i'd just be planting outsiders characters into that experience

it is also possible that i'll end up with nothing (midterms go crazy), in which case i'll post my backup that is semi-completed, a whooole bunch of outsiders characters recreated in this picrew

Friday, Nov 8 - "tuff" or "Dally"

this one is not only decided upon but finished if y'all can believe it. i might make some revision edits before i actually post it but this one is a product of me going insane over the course of three days and writing a character exploration of dally on the train tracks delving into his relationship throughout his life with suicidal ideation

Saturday, Nov 9 - "vacant lot" or "Johnny"

unfortunately once again no idea lads. actually i lied there is something but it doesn't follow any of the prompts very much so we'll see. following the prompts i have no idea, most i've got is maybe a short thing about johnny some quiet night in the vacant lot (both prompts in one fell swoop). maybe he's looking at the stars idk. if it's the other one, which could also function as a backup for any of the days, it's a sickfic about two-bit that's actually just an excuse to write two-bit appreciating his mom. the google doc for that one is called sick TB mother appreciation to illustrate how central that is to the fic

if you've read all the way to the end hello 👋 and feel free to send any thoughts or questions my way! i need to lock in and start hustling on these soon and interaction is always a great way to improve willpower

[axolozzy]

so today i went to my grandmas for my birthday party (my birthdays on the 12th) and i found a little mouse outside at 4pm.

it was just sitting in the sun not really doing anything. as we talked it kinda just slowly walked away from the voices but we could tell right away something was wrong. its eyes were closed or like maybe it didn’t even have eyes in the first place. i picked it up with a glove but there was literally nothing there to feed it

i just kinda sat with it for a little bit and since it didn’t seem scared of me at all, i decided to bring it home and feed it something. we usually get mice at our house every year around this time and i just pick them up in a container and take them outside so my cat doesn’t get to them first, so this was nothing new to me.

i brought it home but it wouldn’t eat anything i tried giving it. fruits, vegetables, seeds, it wouldn’t eat any of it. i knowww i probably should’ve worn gloves but by now it really wasn’t moving around at all so i just kinda sat outside in the sun petting it, not really knowing what to do.

then it like started wobbling around all of a sudden. i tried to get this on video but it stopped right as i started recording. it seemed like it wanted someplace warm cuz it was burying its nose into my clothes so i was gonna let it rest in my pocket.

right after i took the video and began petting it again, it died in my hands at exactly 5pm.

i have no idea what happened. i don’t know if it was a baby, i don’t know if it was super old, i don’t know if it had been poisoned or starved to death. i have no idea what happened but i’m happy i was there comforting it in the sun in its final moments.

i took it in the backyard and buried it next to a tree we planted when my dog bella died almost two years ago. my other dog hershey was there and helped me dig the hole, just like last time. the sun barely hit the backyard and i felt bad about that. but once i was done burying it, i noticed a tiny patch of sunlight shining right where i buried the mouse.

and that was it. idk i just wanted to talk about what happened earlier. i’ll miss the little guy but im happy i could be there with it in its final moments, and it wasn’t alone

rest in peace, mouse friend ❤️🐭

[dexlexia]

atomic gold - a vashwood fan fic

chapter 3/3: atomic + gold (the smut chapter) pairing: vashwood (vash x nicholas) rating: 18+ summary: Nicholas swore this was the last fight, but it was never the case. He always ended up in the projector room in the east wing of the university’s main building being patched up by Vash. Vash was a good guy, a little goofy at times. And had a habit of causing more trouble then helping, but he and Nicholas were rather close since they both became the only two members of the dying film club. tags: college au, internalized homophobia, smut, nicholas is bad at feelings, film club au, minor violence, mentions of blood, trans!vash, needle mentions, jealousy, background relationships, catholicism, slow burn, eventual smut, reference to abuse, controlling knives a/n: read it on ao3 !

It was winter semester now. Spring was around the corner which meant that the desert plants were alive and well. Which meant that Vash was a sneezing, coughing, sniffling mess.  Despite a love for plants,  Vash had bad allergies. The pollen from the newly sprouted desert flowers had Vash carrying tissues and allergy medicine in his bag. 

  "I don't know, Nicholas. I thought living in the desert would solve this problem. Nothing grows here!" 

Nicholas rubbed his boyfriend's back, "I think plants grow everywhere." He handed a few more tissues to the blonde as he started to sneeze. 

It was the two of them alone in the projector room, Vash's legs were over Nicholas' lap as the blonde attempted to finish his mid-semester paper. It was close to the end of the school year. Nicholas was going back to the seminary where he lived outside of school, while Vash and Knives were taking extra classes. 

  "I know, but it's not fair!" Vash whined. 

Nicholas kissed him again, "Don't worry, just keep doing your research. Before you know it all the flowers will be dead again and no more allergies." 

  "I guess you're right." Vash rested his head on Nicholas' shoulder. The two briefly kissed before Vash went back to his work. Looking at his laptop from an angle, "You know what we should do." 

  "What's that?"

Vash said bluntly, "I think we should have sex. It's been a few months now and you haven't jumped my bones!"

Maybe it's because your brother would kill me, Nicholas thought. But instead he said, "I didn't want to push you is all. I know you've been through a lot and I didn't want you to think I was using you for your body." 

  "Aw, this old thing." Vash chuckled as he gestured to himself, "Usually I charge, but for my honey it's free of charge." He said in a sing-song voice.  In reality, Vash had never had sex before, Nicholas knew this too. The anxiety about his body, both in a gender kind of way and also the damage done to it, kept him from being intimate.  He pulled his head away to look at Nicholas, "So do you want to have sex?"

Nicholas was caught off guard by the question. He was supposed to not have sex till marriage but he broke that vow a long time ago. He cupped Vash's face, "I don't know, do you want to have sex?"

Vash nodded, "I trust you, Nicholas." His lips curled up at the edges, "I know you'll be gentle." Then peppered kisses along the other man's jawline. 

Nicholas sighed contently, "We're not going at it in the club room."

  "Of course not! I'm not a harlot!" 

Nicholas burst out laughing, "No, no. Of course not, you're a dashing young, virtuous man." 

Vash stuck his tongue out, "You sound like a perverted old man." 

  "You're literally three months older than me!" Nicholas argued.  The pair laughed together before Vash snuggled up with Nicholas even more. The man threw an arm around his lover and kept him close. He took in the scent of the strong shampoo the man used. He was an assault on his nose, but he ignored it in favor of basking in the blonde's warmth. 

The plan now was to figure out when to have sex, now that the plan was set in motion. It was getting harder to find a time where Knives would be gone all night. The idea wound Vash up. When the pair were alone, he'd rub up against Nicholas. Kissing his neck and ear, even when the pair were tucked away in the designated smoking area. 

  "You're a pain." Nicholas said teasingly one rainy afternoon when, while passing by, Vash grabbed the other man's ass then giggled to himself like a schoolgirl. Nicholas playfully rolled his eyes and pinched Vash's ass in return before he sat down on the couch in the club room.  It took some time to get the right day to have their first time together. 

But waiting only makes it more worth it,  the closer it came to that Saturday afternoon where Knives was out all day with the rest of the student union. Nicholas slinked across campus with condoms in his pockets. As soon as he got through the front door, Vash was all over him. his hands in his short dark hair, his tongue practically down the other man's throat. 

  "Someone's excited." Nicholas purred. 

  "Yeah, because after so long I finally got to have you. You make me crazy, Wolfwood!" Vash grinned before pulling the man in for another kiss. It was hot and passionate as Nicholas eventually pinned the blonde up against the beige wall near the coat rack. He held the man by the shoulder and passionately made out with him. His tongue glazed along Vash's top lip. 

The feeling of being so close the other man made Vash feel warm all over, his pussy became wet with the sensation.  Their foreheads eventually pressed together as Nicholas started to unbutton the front of Vash's shirt.

While he did that, Vash turned his head away and sneezed into his elbow. 

  "Are you sure you want to do this?"  Nicholas asked, "If your allergies are acting up, we can try another time." 

Vash cupped Nicholas' face, "No, even if I sneeze so hard my eyes pop out, I want this." He looked determined.  The two began to kiss again,  bodies moved up against one another as Nicholas kept Vash up against the wall.  Vash's quick hands worked at Nicholas' belt, he tugged on the buckle and moaned into the other's mouth.

  "You better not get addicted to this." Nicholas teased, "Can't be fucking you every moment of every day."  He gripped onto the other's hips and started to passionately kiss him again. Vash whimpered in his mouth like something out of a porno.  Nicholas pulled away and ran his fingers through his lover's hair,  softly pulling at a handful of it, "You look divine.  I need your full consent before we keep going." 

  "I want it, Nicholas." 

  "Louder."

  "Nicholas, please." Vash was sounding desperate now.

  "Louder, Vash." 

  "Nichol-"

  "What did I say, handsome? I want the whole damn block to know who I am and what I'm about to do to you."

Vash moaned, this was amazing.  He held onto his lover's shoulders, "Please, Nicholas. Please fuck me. I want you to fuck me. I never wanted anyone else in my entire life. Please, please, please!" His cheeks were flushed.  He was met with another kiss. 

  "That's what I like to hear." Nicholas chuckled, "I love you Vash, for all my days I'm going to love you. Nothing will change that. " His hand snaked through the opening of his shirt, he felt a jagged scar tissue. His finger eventually grazed the left side of the top surgery scarring. It was more flat than the other scars, but Nicholas knew it was there.

Vash really was a special man, a self made man. He was one of a kind and Nicholas wanted to cherish him for the rest of his life.  Soon Vash pulled away from Nicholas' grasp and moved past his, he had a giddy in this step as he turned to face Nicholas midway up the stairs, "Come on now." Then winked before scampering back upstairs. 

Nicholas licked his lips and followed close behind. The erection in his pants throbbed as he got a faceful of Vash's ass as he bound up the stairs on those long legs. The dark haired man palmed at his erection and soon met the blonde inside of the bedroom. Once again they were kissing as Vash pulled at the bottom hem of Nicholas' black t-shirt. 

  "I want you."

  "I want you too."

Vash rubbed his thighs together, feeling wet between them.  The two men got undressed slowly, Vash felt Nicholas' eyes on him. He really did trust this man with his whole heart. Soon he felt Nicholas' hand on his lower back and he looked over to see Nicholas looking back at him.  He turned to kiss him on the lips. 

 "You're amazing."

  "Not as amazing as you." Vash replied.  He turned around fully and planted a proper kiss on the other man's lips. He made a small moaning noise when Nicholas slipped two fingers into his pussy. The sound made Nicholas' cock twitch. The blonde wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer, their chest's touching. 

Nicholas held onto the blonde with one hand while he played with clit with the other. He was encouraged by the blonde's moans, soon their kisses became sloppy and the dark haired man was guided to the bed.  Vash laid down on it and took Nicholas with him.  The air in the room felt warmer the more they felt up each other's bodies. 

  "Fuck." Vash panted.

  "You feel so good, blondie. So fucking good." Nicholas moaned as he pulled away from another searing kiss. They could make out all evening and Nicholas would be content, but it was time for the main event.  He continued to play with Vash's pussy, their kisses became more greedy as the blonde kept his long arms around the other's broad shoulders. They complement one another perfectly, the noises the blonde made accompanied Nicholas'.  Vash's lips eventually went down the other's neck.. He rubbed his thighs together as he started to leave marks on the other's skin. Nicholas responded by adding a third finger, his thumb still teased the other man's clit. 

  "Oh, Nicholas.' Vash moaned against the other's skin. It felt remarkable being so close to the other man. It was like something that felt right. This is what he wanted his future sexual experiences to be like. He wanted them with Nicholas. He had little need to want anyone else.  Another kiss on Nicholas' lips and Vash said, "We need the condoms." 

  "RIght ahead of ya." Nicholas pulled his fingers out and went to the edge of the bed to try and retrieve his pants. There he found the shiny foil and got one out before he crawled back up the bed to the blonde. He showed him the condom and slowly started to open it.  They arranged themselves so Vash was on top and Nicholas' hands were on the blonde's waist. Nicholas gave him a reassured smile, "Don't worry, we'll have fun." 

Vash kissed him once more, his kisses were a delight. His core ached for the other man, he wouldn't admit it to him but Nicholas D. Wolfwood was the subject of many sexual fantasies. And even a few wet dreams.  Slowly he inched himself down Nicholas' cock.  He hissed slightly but Nicholas was there to cheer him on. Once he reached the base, Nicholas leaned up and kissed at Vash's chest, especially around the top surgery scars. The praise made Vash feel more comfortable. 

  "Are you okay?" Nicholas asked as Vash seated himself fully on his cock.  He rubbed the man's thigh as he slowly started to move, the connection between them grew as they began to fuck. Vash soon leaned forward so his face was on Nicholas'  shoulder, his hips still working the man's cock. 

Vash held onto the bed under him as their bodies rocked together.  The bed moved slightly from their movements, the headboard pushed further away from the wall as they began to pick up the pace. The sound of sex filled the room as the pair went back to kissing one another. Vash's tongue licked across Nicholas' mouth and soon he was very deeply kissing the other man. The grip on his hips tightened, Vash secretly hoped they left bruises. But Nicholas wouldn't make a huge mess of his body on their first time. 

After all, they had a whole lifetime to explore their hidden desires. 

Vash moaned into the other's mouth and Nicholas' eyes fluttered shut. In the privacy of the blonde's bedroom, the pair fucked. 

Or would it be called making love because Nicholas felt the chun of not only lust and desire, but also love. He could scream from the heavens that he loved Vash Stampede. With his goofy blonde hair, single piercing, even that mole under his eye. Nicholas would kiss that mole for the rest of his life.  Vash was a great boyfriend, even when he rambled about his DVD collection from time to time. But the other man would listen to it every day, and he believed he had a lot of time to do so.  He felt Vash's hands tighten on the covers beside his body and he decided to ram his hips even harder, his cock hitting every sweet spot in Vash. Which made the other man's back arch and his voice became tighter. 

  "That's a good, blondie." Nicholas chuckled, "Excellent. Fuck, you feel amazing." Maybe this was what haven felt like. To Nicholas this was the perfect afterlife.  He laughed in his head about rejecting his faith and worshiping Vash's sweet pussy. His hands soon found hold on Vash's head, he yanked on blonde strands as he man on top of him rode his cock. 

Vash pulled away and panted wildly,  his face was bright pink with the color going all the way down his neck and chest. He looked divine on top of Nicholas. LIke he always belonged there. His heart beated rapidly as he tried to steady his breathing.  He wasn't a professional at sex, the only kind he ever had was with himself. His thighs were trembling and his pace was uneven. He was just trying to do what felt right. 

Their bodies moved in almost sync, they were getting pleasure from every thrust as the bed creaked under them. They were glad no one could really hear them unless they were inside the townhouse. Vash's noises were becoming higher pitched, the sounds made Nicholas' cock throb inside of the other man. These were noises that he was pretty sure no one else had ever heard. These were for Nicholas' ears alone. 

  "How are you feeling?" Nicholas asked. 

  "I feel really good. You're amazing." Vash replied, his back arched more as a particularly hard current of pleasure raced through every nerve in his body.  His chin moved to the ceiling and he let out a loud moan before Nicholas reached out and pulled him back down so their lips crashed together and their kisses became a fiery inferno.

They soon parted and Vash used Nicholas' abdomen for support as he continued to ride on the other man's cock. The noises of their intimacy filled the room, with Vash's hips working overtime to sate his man. His mouth hung open as he went back and forth on the other's cock. This is what he wanted, more than anything he wanted Nicholas' cock. The man made him feel special and the intimacy was exciting and much needed. There was a spark between them and Vash felt it the most at the moment. 

  "You feel like a dream." Nicholas panted. There was something about his closeness that made Nicholas hot all over. Not just by the feeling of Vash working his cock, but this tenderness between them. He had never felt it with another person before.  It was like everything was meant to lead up to this moment and every moment ever. 

  "You're not too bad yourself, Nicholas. I was worried it wasn't going to fit for a moment. But I guess I'm just made for you." And he let out a yelp as Nicholas' smashed their lips together once more. Even a cheesy joke like that made Nicholas only fall for him more. 

Nicholas groped as Vash's ass and move his hips up and down, his cock hitting the deepest parts of his lover as they continued to fuck on the loud bed. The headboard continued to ram against the wall behind it.  The man felt the deep feeling of orgasm in his gut as he continued to ram into the other. Vash was feeling the same thing too which encouraged him to keep going even as his thigh tensed up from the impending orgasmic pleasure.  Their lips were pressed together as Vash lost all rhythm of his movements as moved as quickly as his body could  go, even with a sharp pain in his hip. But it was worth it. 

  "Fuck, Nicholas. You feel so good, ah! I want to have sex with you over and over again." Vash was practically bouncing on the other's cock. His motions were out of control as he rose and dropped himself on his cock. 

The need for orgasms became stronger as they continued to move. Vash wanted to hold out but it was hard when the man below him was so alluring. He felt on cloud nine even with the aches in his legs from kneeling in this position to ride Nicholas. They were both nearing their orgasms, they could taste it on the tips of their tongues. Especially Vash who currently had his tongue hanging out of his mouth as pleasurable noises left his mouth. 

  "Shit, Vash." 

  "Please, Nicholas." 

  "I love you." Nicholas panted, with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside the condom.  He laid limp on the bed now as his chest rapidly rose and fell.  Vash finished close behind with a few more rolls of his hips and soon. was limp on Nicholas' chest. The two men laid naked in bed together as they tried to regain their composure.   "Fuck." Nicholas exhaled, "I need to stop smoking." With the amount of heaving he was doing after one round of sex. 

Vash got off of Nicholas and cuddled up beside him on the small bed. His soaked pussy rubbed against the side of Nicholas' thigh.  He clenched when Nicholas moved in for a kiss.  The two of them laid there in the bed as the streetlamp shined in through the window. Vash felt in total peace, this was the most clear headed he thought when normally he was frantic.  The other man placed kisses softly on his face as they relaxed. 

  "How was that?" Nicholas asked.

  "It was great, I was a little nervous but I had a great time!" Vash said in a chipper tone. He leaned up for most kisses and his entire body felt relaxed from the rush of his orgasm. His legs tangled up with the other man's as he let himself be held by Nicholas.  Vash was excited and nervous, he wanted his first time to be special and do it with someone that he really loved. And Nicholas fit the bill entirely. 

Nicholas kept an arm around Vash as the blonde played with his chest hair. They remained snuggled up until Vash let out a loud moan with his face buried in Nicholas' arm. He could smell the sweat on the other man. But he was too tired to get aroused again. Right now he wanted a large pint of ice cream, a crocheted blanket and to be smothered by Nicholas' hugs. Being in a relationship with another man wasn't about sex,but experiencing every emotion that they could feel. 

  "I'm one lucky guy." Nicholas remarked, "Yeah... I lucked out."

  "Not as much as I lucked out. Now there's a tub of ice cream with our name on it and a whole collection of movies.  Would you care to join me to watch some of them? We have all night." 

  "Sure, Vash. I'd love to."

[lulullia]

Lyphuriaa Progress Report #1

Well, it's been a long while since my last post, because since then I've been in input – or learning – mode and spent my days absorbing information on my favorite topic: storytelling.

Before that, I was really creatively blocked, unable to do anything but stare at the screen trying to get my body to f-ing move and start drawing, writing, or coding – with little success. And so, in the process of searching for stuff to consume and kill time with, I remembered a favorite, huge resource I had already started reading but needed to finish, and that's how I ended up switching to input mode.

Lesson learnt: sometimes, if you're blocked and taking breaks doesn't help, it may just be because you're trying to output when you're really in need of input. That can take the form of inspiration (like browsing Pinterest or going back to a favorite book/movie/game…) but also actual education (like an online course or book, articles and videos on the topic, etc).

And sure enough, as I was expanding my knowledge on storytelling, I couldn't help but go and apply that to my current projects. I'll summarize the progress made on Lyphuriaa (or more like massive problem-fixing), and also share the two amazing resources I've been binging at the end, if you're making stories too!

Bird's eye view on the plot

For the longest time, Lyphuriaa was mostly in my head, and the plot was nothing more than "Lulu's life". That's because I started imagining it when I was a kid, and so it was never properly structured the way a story ought to be. Almost exactly a year ago, I realized the problem and started fixing it, cutting the boring parts, beginning the story at a more exciting point, changing up variables…

The result was already something that felt way more like I'd enjoy reading it myself, more mature and cohesive, but it still very broken structurally. It's only these past few weeks/months that I really started digging deeper and fix the core.

The core being, of course, the three basic components of a story – the Story Goal, the Protagonist (person pursuing the goal), and the Antagonist (person in opposition to the goal being achieved). Yeah, Lyphuriaa was that broken. Let's see how exactly, and then show the current fix.

The problems

The story goal was super fuzzy. I knew it was something along the lines of "taking back Lyphuriaa to rebuild it" but NONE of the characters, or events actually worked towards it. I also had no idea on the actual steps to fulfill it. Something fuzzy like "board airship or ship, fly/sail to the place, remove any stupid goons tryna stop you, plant flag, done! then epilogue showing the place rebuilt!" Plus, I didn't have enough details on the situation on Lyphuriaa (the place), like Why did it get abandoned if its people were literally genocided to take over the land? What's the situation outside Lyphuriaa – do the winners still have their eyes on it, don't care about it anymore, still claim ownership of the land? What about other countries? etc, etc.

The protagonists – Lulu and Vlad – are completely fleshed out as characters, but the problem was within their personal goals and motivations. If I just let them do whatever they wanted, they'd go live on a boat and sail the world, not "take back Lyphuriaa to rebuild it". I just struggled immensely to tie them to the "goal" somehow. That's part of the reason why none of the plot points worked towards the goal – the main characters don't even care about it. At some point I even considered the fact that maybe, they're not meant to tell this story, and that I should change either the goal or the protagonists.

That antagonists, well, they were almost non-existent. They're the least developed element. I just knew there was one group trying to get Lulu to use her unique power to open portals so that they could invade (a plotline that's now scrapped, because I figured a threat coming from inside the world is more interesting than one coming from outside, plus, I want Lulu to be special because of what she does, not what she's born with). And another group, the ones instigating the Lyphurian war, who don't want Lyphuriaa to be rebuilt again. And that's all I knew about the people who are supposed to bring as much conflict to the story as possible. Needless to say, they really did nothing throughout the story, it's as if they only woke up at the end when the cast finally set foot on Lyphuriaa, or something.

The glaring, glaring problem that took me a lot of time to spot, is the absolute lack of conflict. I had a 2k words outline of the story, but it was just about Lulu, Vlad and a few others going on about their life, smoothly. Then there were a few events that really had nothing to do with that, aka the "main plot".

Nothing is connected

I literally have a line saying, "somehow they find her father". Like, is it something that happens randomly (in which case it's lazy), or is it unimportant enough that we don't even need to show how it happens (in which case why keep it at all?), or it's supposed to be part of the plot (in which case why have the protagonists never even show a sign of wanting to do that)…?

"Somehow" is a red flag practically all of the time in storytelling, as it breaks consistency and believability. I know that in the outline, I wrote "somehow" as a shorthand for "this needs to happen and I have no idea how to connect it so I'm leaving it to you, future self :D" but even so it's a symptom of a larger problem underneath.

Literally the last bullet point of the whole outline: "I almost forgot that the story isn't Vladleen but Lyphuriaa. So I guess here be adventures to take back Lyphuriaa! yay!"

Random fluff adding dead weight

Another easier to fix problem was scenes or entire plotlines that were completely unnecessary to the story. As I said Lyphuriaa exists since my childhood and so, there were a lot of random stuff I added because I thought it was cool and I had no idea how to make a properly structured story, but that I never questioned when overhauling it. It's only when I realized that nothing is set in stone until I say so, and that I'm not bound by these boundaries just because they've been here a long time, sometimes even since the very beginning, that I started cutting stuff and, most importantly, change key parts to make them infinitely more interesting.

The scrapped plotline. The stuff about a virus, and Lyphurians having a special purpose, is scrapped too. Cutting such a huge part of the story led to literally no consequences, and felt so relieving.

Playing around with key variables

For example, I was under the assumption that Vlad can only come in later in the story and not the beginning, and that the Liance between him and Lulu can only happen waaay later when they start having feelings for each other. But one day I had this idea: what if we start the story at the point of their meeting, and have them be lianced right then and there, maybe even against their will?

And that's how one of the key moments in Lyphuriaa was born, bringing a ton of conflict and interesting situations and characterization with it to the table that could never have happened otherwise. Now both protagonists are on-screen right away (especially since Vlad is the most interesting out of the two at first), the Liance functions like a character arc for both of them because it's a problem they have to overcome, that results in a much more interesting relationship than just lovers, and is also an interesting concept to explore right off the bat that can play a part in hooking the reader, and on and on. All of that just from changing two variables.

Yeah, I write a lot in my notes. It's helpful to order my thoughts in the present, and leave a trace of the past for when I find it again in the future.

The fixes

This is getting very long, I wonder if you'd prefer if I split posts like these in parts…

The story goal – thanks to some adjustments and lots of inspirations from the resources below, I could finally find a goal that is similar to what I had in mind, but also agrees with the protagonists and antagonists. Even though I'm presenting this as three bullet points, the truth is, it's all interconnected and should be worked on as a whole, not just one at a time. So, now the main goal of Lyphuriaa is, "to (re)build a place where all Lyphurians can call home". It's not only clearer, but also more personal, and ties in perfectly with the theme of the story (finding the people you belong with – whose side you can call home).

The protagonists now have proper motivations and goals that align with the story goal! They became tied to it way more naturally, plus it connects with the theme again and provides conflict: Lulu is a Lyphurian, and because of her species' defining traits simply cannot feel like she belongs amongst Vampires and other people. Even better, she doesn't feel safe. Lyphurian blood is a luxury for Vampires, their horns valued products, and their glowing skin scare people away (especially since most people aren't aware of the existence of Lyphurians; they may be ghosts for all they know). And thus, coupled to something else that is spoilers, she sees Vlad as the perfect opportunity to stand up for her people and make a place where they can feel at home, together (Vlad has money and means). And what better place for this if not their original homeland? (The only issue still left is to tie Vlad into this as well, I already have an idea for this that also ties into the theme of finding home that needs tweaking, but it's spoilers too so I'll leave it at that.)

The antagonists… are still the least developed, but at least now I'm clear on who are the antagonizing groups, and what's their goal so I can build what they'll do on top of that. I still need to go closer and build them as individuals and give them a personal stake. What's certain is that I want them to be smart and unpredictable, playing an intense game of "who is actually one step ahead the other?" with the protagonists. They are active, just as active as their enemy. There are also a couple other surprise major characters that don't fit in either category, but will stir trouble in trying to achieve their own personal goals – aka pushing the story forward.

You can see the difference, now the story is packed with conflict and potential for conflict everywhere. It's starting to take the shape of one intense ride! There are a ton of little tweaks that improve the story overall, here's a few…

Everything is interconnected

Sharp contrast to how it was before, now every event serves a purpose in either the main plot or in major subplots (I took the time to clearly lay out the different plotlines, that's what the very first image is about; each "row" is one plotline). Not only that, but each character has a link to the main plot, or at least thematic relevance.

The side-character I'm most excited about is Ava, Lulu's bestie. It's through her that a lot of Vladleen's relationship is brought out, because these two mostly don't need to actually talk, they can just send brain signals. Ava is the kind of person who has no filter, can't read the room, but can easily spot subtle differences around her. Kinda hard to explain, but she does a good job of getting Vladleen to show themselves to the reader. Plus, she's gonna be the center of a very big choice (aka conflict) both Vlad and Lulu will have to make, you could say the ultimate choice that will show who they truly are, what they care about more than anything else (and thus ties into the theme as well).

Little preview of this energetic and fun character~

More playing around with variables

As I was reading up on the resources mentioned before, key points of the story kept getting challenged. Long-lost heir to a throne as a plot twist? Check. Heir characterized only by their blood? Check. Mentor who comes take said heir and push them forward themselves instead of letting her walk by herself? Check. Protagonists only acting after antagonist strikes, and never before? Check. Mentor keeping key info secret for no reason? Check.

That's a lot of hidden clichés I was aware of but thought I had added enough uniqueness to them, and I'm glad the articles made me see them in their true form and their bad consequences. So I took all of those and more and switched variables around.

The most important change was a set of tweaks to Lulu and her "heritage". She not only isn't a good fit to be a ruler, but also doesn't want to rule (remember when I said the MCs didn't care about the goal?). I didn't have any specific reason as to why her bloodline was special and why it had to be the ruling one. All of this made her into something I really didn't like: a person defined by what she was born with, not by her actions. She would have never been on this path if she didn't have this blood and powers. I don't know if you can see it but, it all feels like her actions are determined by her blood; she would have always made the same choices even if circumstances were different; she doesn't have free will. And when you know that protagonists' most important role is to make choices… Well.

So the first thing I did was dig into the bloodline's origin, which made me realize that if that's how it originated, then there should be more than one family with the same special characteristics, not just one. Just this change implies so much: the bloodline alone doesn't give you a right to the throne anymore, and Lulu can just rally her people and lead them to the goal, and step down then; Lulu is no longer the only one who can unseal Lyphuriaa, if there are other families, and thus her decision to do so anyway comes from inside her and not outside; imagine the amount of exciting stuff (aka conflict) that can happen with having other bloodline members around!!! and so much more.

Lulu getting back her agency to do what she wants is the highlight, though. I remember reading/watching a pretty long manga/anime (won't say the name to not spoil) where at the end it's revealed that everything that happened, only happened because a higher entity kept resetting time until they got the course of events that they wanted to see. It truly made the whole thing meaningless, just like "it was all a dream!" endings, it means the characters never earned anything by themselves, they're just puppets; I want to avoid that at all cost.

As much as I'd like to keep writing, I think I've covered the most important parts; this is long enough as it is.

Zeroth draft

Alright, I'm done talking about the plot changes, here's something more concrete: I think I'll participate in Camp NaNo this july to get a "zeroth draft" started.

Basically, that's a draft before the first draft. It's not meant to be the first stage of the final product, but something more meta before it. I have no pressure to make it make sense; I just write with what I currently have and improvise to fill in the gaps. What I actually write can range from detailed description of the action, to one-line scenes such as "here they fight". A barebones text that I can then use to make the actual first draft, later.

This is all because, for the longest time I thought I was a planner, but it turns out I may actually be a pantser, discovering the story as I write it. So I want to put that theory to the test and write like a pantser during Camp NaNo. I really, really want to write this story.

Here's a link to my NaNoWriMo profile, where I set myself a goal of 20k words for this month. I have no idea whether it's big or small, we'll see. (feel free to add me if you write too.)

This post took me a whole day to write, but I had fun summarizing these past months' progress. I also really want to try out animating a scene, and coding a prototype with it, but I'll make a post about that when I have something to show.

If you made it this far, I thank you sincerely. I know that people who enjoy long-form content aren't extinct, but it's getting harder to find them. Reblogging and sharing helps, but a simple like can let me know it's reaching some people at least c:

Storytelling resources

Two big resources that pack a ton of valuable advice and storytelling principles.

Limyaael literary rants – about 400 individual essays, mostly geared towards fantasy. Helped me improve my story in so many ways, and I'm still halfway through it. Start from the beginning, everything is useful.

Filmento – an absolutely incredible channel, each of his videos feel like a university-level lecture on storytelling and sometimes cinematography. The video is separated into clear points, always taking example from a movie, so you can see it in action, and it's super engaging and funny to boot. Most of the stuff applies to stories in general, don't let the word "movie" scare you! See his "Film Perfection" and "Anatomy of a Failure" playlists especially.

Taking notes is a must, if I had read/watched through all of these without taking notes it'd have been a monumental waste of time since I'd have forgotten all of it. Also, it's not enough to take them, if you can't find them later, be it tomorrow or in a year (looking at you, people who take notes in Youtube comments).

My Obsidian vault has close to 1,000 individual notes, and in 99% of the time I can find any note I need in less than 5s, even if I don't remember the note's title, because I have so many different ways to search for it. So find yourself a tool that helps you use your notes, not just create and forget them.

After only a few days of reading/watching, when I came back to my story's beginning that I previously thought was perfectly fine, I could 1) immediately spot problems and 2) immediately know how to fix them. Literally, I'm tempted to say that's all you need to learn storytelling in-depth.

Enjoy!

[isittherightword]

Leaving for me wasn't a simple thing. I truly felt I was nothing outside of my identity as a doctor and a surgeon. I didn't have anything else- I had literally been on the path to being a physician since highschool when I was admitted to a guaranteed medical school program. I firmly believe no one under the age of 25 should ever decide to be a doctor. You don't know who you are and what you want and what it really means to sacrifice all of your youth. And if you decide young, by the time you realize you've committed to something that would erase your youth and eject you on the other side, weary, wrinkled, lonely, and empty save for a scalpel in hand cutting and sewing peoples organs, you'll have come to far and find it difficult to walk away. For me, walking away was a form of dying. Part of me died when I left Boston, or was killed in the struggle of the exorcism.

Since then I've lived in a bit of a state of purgatory, somewhere between life and spiritual death. On a psycho-spiritual quest to recover the pieces of my shattered soul.

By the time I left I had little will to carry on. I had lost everything. Many of my friends abandoned me because the violence of my deprogramming was a threat to the system of belief they had invested so much in. I found myself prey to a variety of vultures who circled my exposed and weakened flesh just to take a bite out of it to make themselves feel better. I came to California broken in a way that not a lot of people live through. I know this because any time I hear about a doctor committing suicide, I shrug, and think, wryly, good for them. The alternative of simply dying is to spiritually die and spend years searching for shards my glass heart splintered in every corner, knowing that my soul will never truly be the same after the rupture. To me, in many ways, dying sounds simpler. Why not reset and just start again, or fade into nothing? Why not rupture your body to mirror the rupture of your soul? It's definitive. It's simple.

Rebuilding for me has been complicated and taken a lot of effort and energy. I voraciously read books on toxic shame, inner child healing, narcissistic abuse, mothers who can't love. I spent a lot of time near the ocean, burned a lot of sage, lit candles, pulled tarot cards, made offerings. I've danced, screamed, sang, painted, planted, watered, fertilized, harvested, drove, miles and miles and miles. At some point in the journey, someone told me about Kintsugi- the Japanese pottery technique of resealing shattered pottery with precious gold. I learned there could be beauty in gathering the shards of my soul and sealing them back together, piece by piece.

In the back of my mind though, for a long time, I waited for a strong wind to blow me over the edge. The work is exhausting, painful, and truly, endless. Healing is a spiral that goes around and around and around. You're never really done. I always knew that I wouldn't be able to sustain another rupture like I did in 2018, when I was left body burned, flesh torn, shivering, naked and afraid on the shores of Northern California. I waited for a strong wind to blow, knock me over, break me, and force me to face starting again or giving up, knowing what my answer would be. "Ask me again, universe" I secretly begged. This time maybe I would allow the waves to pull me under.

The thing is the wind came, and the waves came. But what I rebuilt, as small as it was, was sturdier than the Tower of Babel that came before it. that tower had been astounding and illustrious, but devoid of solid foundation. I found myself, however small, building something with deeper roots and a real foundation, anchoring into what really is solid ground. I did the work, and in that way it was intentional, but I always was skeptical of that process. "Is this really working or will it all turn to ash in my hands like the last time?" I write this in past tense, but this is and was my present until recently. The truth is, building my internal system to be strong outside of what people saw me as, as opposed to fully defining myself and my worth through my accomplishments and through the eyes of my parents, who I never was and never will be enough for.

It's 11:11 💜 angels as always, reminding me they are with me.

After my big wedding, during which my darling dog went blind in her right eye, my maid of honor behaved in a truly unhinged manner, I got covid, and my mother, and more importantly, my father, disappointed me for the last time-- I confessed to my husband about my secret waiting for a strong wind to blow me into oblivion. I confessed because, at last, I realized I had built enough that even if the wind came, there was enough there to sustain me. Even if it it ripped open my windows and tore down my walls, the foundation would still stand I would be able to rebuild. Despite all the bullshit I still had a beautiful, perfect, incredible day where I laughed and loved and felt surrounded by love and experienced real joy. You can see it in the photos. It was, truly, the happiest day of my life.

It took a while to wade through the post wedding depression, nevertheless. Depression is unrelenting and unfair. It will leave for months, even years at a time, but then strike me down with the force of a high speed train. I burst again, but each time into less and less pieces. That's where my hope comes from. I've been shattered and sealed in gold and titanium, infinite cracks and infinite seals. Soon perhaps I won't shatter when the storms come. But even if I do, I know my shards can always be sealed back together and I'll never again start from nothing.

[ship-ambrosia]

WIP Word Search

Thanks to @gingersprites for tagging me!

My words are touch | snow | moon | song | wave

Touch

- What is dead may never die (Time traveler Theon monster fic (that I’m in love with 😍))

“You’ve done nothing but care for me since we arrived in King’s Landing,” she spoke even softer, as if she feared being overheard. “No, even before that. You were always Robb’s dearest friend, and then suddenly your attention was on me. Every action and gesture was so genuine and kind, that next to you Joffrey always looked shallow.”

“Good,” Theon croaked, hardly able to speak under her gaze. “I was trying to prove you deserve better than him.”

“I do,” she agreed. “I deserve you.”

“Lady Sansa-“

“You are brave and gentle and strong, Theon. You are the match my father said he would make for me,” Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, her very touch shooting electricity through his body. “You’ve protected me, you told me yourself that everything you’ve done in King’s Landing was all to protect me. How could I not fall in love with your devotion? It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Snow

- Also What is dead may never die (still love it)

“There are only five Starks,” Jon said, bitter and sadness all in his voice, glaring at Theon as if he hated being counted among Ned Stark’s children. “I only see five pups.”

Still holding the wolf he knew to be called “Lady” as soon as they got home and he would place it into the arms of the eldest daughter, Theon indicated a ways off with his chin. “Over there. A pure white pup, the runt of the litter. White like snow for you, Jon. So you can keep pretending you aren’t a Stark.”

Jon gave him an incredulous look, before making his way over to a mewling, whining direwolf. Once he lifted the pup into his arms, Ghost went quiet; and Theon knew he would remain that way.

Moon

- Sunshine/The Prince of Winterfell (May YOTP)

She saw the dark clouds forming around his head, so she reached up to caress the scruff of his beard as she planted a gentle kiss on his lips, trying to draw him back into the warm sunlight of the Glass Garden and the bundle of joy between them. “What’s his name, Theon?” She asked softly after having parted from their embrace, but not moving away.

They were so close that the toddler was pressed between them, and Theon wrapped his arms around both him and Sansa. He smiled down at the little Ironborn boy, a sadder smile than before, but certainly an improvement from any thoughts of the Long Night, as he pressed a kiss into the curls on the top of his head that mirrored his own.

“They called him Snow still,” he told her. “Would’ve given him a name on the one-year anniversary of being brought to the orphanage, which the nurse said was within the next moon. So, Queen Sansa, what would you like to name him?”

“Robb,” she said without a moment of hesitation. “Robb Stark, the Prince of Winterfell.”

Song

- The Princess and the Pirate (Modern AU bodice rippers hehe)

“Sansa~!”

She looked toward the sing-song voice to find Margaery gliding from the other end of the office toward her as quickly as she could in six inch heels (which was really much faster than anyone should be able to move in such shoes). Once her best friend has reached her, Margaery planted a kiss on her friend’s cheek. “I was beginning to fret, darling. Three minutes late is so not like you!”

Sansa sighed. “I stayed up much later than I meant to last night.”

Margaery quirked an eyebrow. “Reading, perhaps?”

She suppressed a giggle. It was an endless source of amusement, that Margaery should be such a huge fan of her books. It wasn’t that Sansa intentionally hid it from her, at least not at first; when the first Edric and Arielle book had gotten quite a bit of buzz, and Sansa had received her first large paycheck from the publishing company, she had literally just opened her mouth to tell Margaery about it. However, Margaery promptly plopped a copy into Sansa’s lap, gushing about how she had read the book in one evening and that Sansa simply had to read it because Alayne Stone wrote the steamiest, most toe-curling romance imaginable.

Wave

- Two Queens and a Champion (Theon rises again, as the Drowned God’s champion)

“Do you remember who you are?”

Theon opened his eyes. The first thing he felt was confusion at the lack of discomfort in his bones. Even when he was in the best shape he had been in years, there was always still some protest from his fingers, from his knees. Instead, he only felt a gentle sensation across his skin, like the gentle waves of a calm day on Pyke. He had not stood in the waves off the shore of his home since before taking Winterfell. It felt a lifetime ago, a wholly different person.

More and more things did not make sense, the more Theon came to life, his brain and thoughts slowly coming back to him. He remembered the cold. He remembered the dance of flames. He remembered a tenseness in his shoulders as he… yes, as he drew back the string of his bow, armed with flaming arrows. Why had he needed flaming arrows?

And then at all at once, he felt an impact to his gut, as visions of the undead running at him while making an unholy noise crossed his eyes. His whole body recoiled around the impact, as he remembered a pair of ice-blue eyes staring into him as he sputtered blood into the snow. Now all that came out of his mouth were bubbles. That was it, that explained the sensation against his skin, and the free floating of his hair. He was underwater. He was dead.

Tagging @breakers-nim and @grey-joys. This one’s really hard 😂 (I recommend using google docs to search for the words). Anyone else who wants to do it is absolutely welcome!

The words I assign are:

heart | brave | sweet | tears | strong

[mdhwrites]

How Important Was Amity and Willow’s Friendship?

So this isn’t really from a narrative standpoint or even me trying to criticize the show in some deep way. From a narrative standpoint, it does its job of having helped soften Amity, make you believe she has a good heart and makes it easier to see her integrate with the rest of the main cast. It does its job. I just struggle to believe it was actually important to Amity or Willow come Understanding Willow. Because they were five. And now they’re fourteen. Almost literally a decade, almost literally twice as long as they’d been alive since they last were friends, has passed since the moment they stopped being friends. Do I think the moment matters to Willow? Fuck yes. I think it should have mattered more because it’s when Amity started bullying her, something she had been doing at least for a couple years when we meet Willow in the show but potentially up to as long as NINE YEARS since they stopped being friends before. How Willow lets go of it by just simple words and Amity being able to shunt the blame for the ending of their friendship, not the bullying, is... Well, it’d be more baffling if the writers didn’t see Willow as nothing but a plot device to help other characters grow. But for Amity? Why should she even feel guilty about it? You have decided to torment this girl for a long time now, long enough for Willow to be a complete outcast and for it to be well known that you don’t like her, for you to go out of your way to mock her and degrade her, and way longer than you two could have been cognizant of deeper friendships than “This person is a little nicer to me than other people,” or “This person has cool stuff so I want to hang out with them more.”

Because they were FIVE. When most things use the childhood friends trope, you usually get the impression that the separation happened when they were like 8-10. Young enough for puberty not to have hit but also old enough that the two actually could have been meaningfully friends for a few years before having to say goodbye. At five years old, you’re not making exactly high value judgements when you call someone your best friend. They aren’t hiding any huge secrets for you commonly or been through anything major to bring you two closer. You two just see each other a little more than you maybe see other kids and so you two latch onto each other more. It’s one place where TOH being a kid’s show is kind of the only reason this plot point works as well as it does. If it were meant for older audiences, what that friendship actually meant, how much the two had changed since then, what they had done in regards to each other, etc. like that might have been interrogated in the slightest. Instead, it’s just Willow saying it’s a little weird before asking for pig tails and then Amity somehow not recognizing Willow is stupidly powerful despite that being like 50% of what she contributes to the show and what made her popular. Remember: In Winging it Like Witches, she was SO impressive at plant magic, a regular type of magic at this school, as to steal attention from the school’s literal sports star at the beginning of her sport’s season. It’s... Really dumb. And really childish. Which is fine for a cartoon but it’s also just a bunch of shortcuts being used that I don’t think can be blamed on the shortening. Not when Too Little Too Late applies to Willow as a whole, but especially this arc seeing as NOTHING happens for half a season because Lumity mattered more than narrative pacing. But at the same time... They were five. Why should they care about becoming friends again when they probably hardly remember that time in their life already? Edit: Small addition because I want to: Boscha and Amity were also friends since this day. So their relationship lasted nine years without any real signs of having been toxic and bad. And yet it’s totally okay for Amity to have shot that in the head for Lu- I mean Willow. *sigh*

[malrie]

sdfjsdkf i've pretty much done so extensively here and marginally here and in fear of yapping more than i already do let me just explain my jason villain theory and only that..ish.. i don't have all the receipts/quotations from the book bc i'm lazy but anyone can factcheck me lol. but. the GIST of it is that you can easily read jason as percy's foil simply because that's how we're introduced to him - as a literal equivalent of percy jackson. but rather than an equivalent it always felt like he fell more into being his antithesis instead.

you've covered it in your original post plenty, that jason is what you'd call an industry plant (lol). he's given the tools, he's set up in ways that plenty of demigods (especially in the big 3) are usually not, what w the patron goddesses lupa + hera and being looked to for leading since he was extremely young bc of his dad, etc. essentially, yeah. he can't fail. and he doesn't really. he does everything right. child soldier employee of the year award yayyy. so it bears weight that percy, who was quite literally set up to fail from the start because of his circumstances, worked (arguably) twice as hard as jason did over the course of his books to receive just as many accolades as jason did on his own time at camp jupiter.

plenty of times in the books, people's perception of jason/their anecdotes never really matches up when you read his perspective or any of the other seven. it isn't natural charisma to be charismatic only when called for, which he is. and in moa when he and percy meet, it always feels like he's taking percy's lead when they do the goofy machismo thing. he's fine with mirroring himself to people's expectations bc that was what he was raised for.

now all of this combined canonically builds to nothing. but seeing it altogether really feels like the perfect kind of build for a resentment that we never see in him. and the first thing that locked me into this as an actual theory is the entire hercules-piper-jason interaction with the cornucopia in moa. i just reread that and was struck with how strangely riordan worded certain things, specifically:

Hercules was a bitter, selfish jerk. He'd hurt too many people, and he wanted to keep on hurting them. Maybe he'd had some bad breaks. Maybe the gods had kicked him around. But that didn't excuse it. A hero couldn't control the gods, but he should be able to control himself. Jason would never be like that. He would never blame others for his problems or make a grudge more important than doing the right thing.

this chapter was interesting because someone (guy with horn forgot his name sawry) directly told piper to be wary of sons of zeus/jupiter. it ended up that this warning really was nothing at all for her and jason's arc, because in the end he was the one to die saving her. but read the two paragraphs again!! why is the structure so odd and foreboding!! riordan picks up plot points and drops them in hoo at his leisure all the time, but the direct jump from the last line of that paragraph chiding hercules's anger against the world versus jason's ability of self-control felt SO jarring to me on my reread since it felt too emphasized. and i realize it's because his arc is built around the idea that he is the embodiment of control, so the thought of its natural opposite - chaos - isn't far behind.

if jason "lost control" (whatever that entailed) that would be a true completion of his coming of age arc. and i think it was such a lost opportunity that we never received it - in either him defecting from either camps in some way or an actual refusal of the call trope (also notably something percy has been known to have done once or twice, but never jason). and lastly, it would be a direct rejection of what his life was originally given up for - the gods and fate and the society that raised him to be like this. he would finally be able to choose something for himself in a way that mattered to him. jason probably being a terrifying evil villain for our protags to face is just icing on the cake.

anyway have any of you ever thought about how Jason was raised by wolves and then an army and told he had to be the best so he became the best, made himself the best using his experiences and power, who has to prove himself time and time again to the people who made him, and then he meets Percy Jackson who, with almost none of Jason’s training, without having been raised and molded into a leader, is better than him

Percy Jackson, who had a childhood, who had a mom, who seems all the better for it. Jason can finish his quests and missions and get a pat on the back and congratulations for bringing honor to the Legion and nothing else because that’s what’s expected of him, while Percy gets hugs and cookies and tears of relief and so much love because people had been hoping he’d succeed, not because it meant victory, but because it meant he'd live.

all of the things Jason’s gone through to make him that perfect leader and soldier feel like they were all for nothing because he looks at Percy Jackson and sees that perfect leader and soldier and none of the things that made Jason good are what made him great

[jellorat]

Lawn Terrorism and other plant and food updates

My lawn was destroyed this winter. Part fo the reason is they used garbage fill dirt to level the yard, front and back. This means the dirt is filled with roofing shingles, plastic, metal nails, bear bottles, and ripped up bear cans.

Add to this, that we had a couple feral cats decide the front lawn was thier litter box, and I swear they dug up half the front lawn before I figured out what was up.

I love cats, so I just go out every time I see them in the lawns and since they are feral and the neighbors across the street are taking care of them, they have stuck to that side of the street lately.

To fix this, my wife and I bought 5 pounds of white clover seeds. I don't like grass. It's ecologically crappy, grows fast, and requires a lot of mowing. I hate mowing. Clover is also good for the soil, and returns nitrogen to it.

Planting clover is like ecological terrorism because I am sure my neighbors with nice manicured lawns are not going to be happy if it takes hold and spreads.

I am a shit neighbor, because I just planted it out. I have hated grass, to a weird spectrum-y level for as long as I remember. It's creepy. So I am going to be shit neighbor and grow clover.

My raspberry jam worked out except for one 4 oz jar. We will just eat that first. I am on to strawberry jam today. I have to make some berry pancake syrup but I will plan that out and do that next time. Also, QFC did not have corn syrup which my recipe called for and I am not searching all over town for it.

I swear, I feel like I live in a 3rd world country. I can't get tater tots or has brown patties. Tahini is gone, and now corn syrup. I never know what product is going to be unavailable week to week. Hell, I have only seen oyster mushrooms in grocery stores once since the whole pandemic began.

This is my broccoli. I planted it way too late in the season, but we will see how it goes!

My red cabbage is peaking out too. It was also planted way too late in the season, so I am watching it as well.

I bought some strawberry shoots off Etsy. I literally know nobody in my area, so I could not bum a shoot or two off of anyone. I bought 10, and they gave me 12, and they are already starting to perk up after 24 hours. Here's hoping next year I have a good strawberry crop. I am glad I got the Etsy ones.

My green onions are not coming up yet, so I planted my grocery store green onions. I saw a video where someone did that and it worked out really well, so I am just going to do that with the last bunch I have in the fridge when I cut them down, and we will see how it goes?

Still no sign of life from my tomatoes. I am worried about them. If nothing happens in a week or so, I will buy some tomato starts from a nursery.

In all, this is going really really well. Buying a home has opened a whole world for me that I could not image being a part of.

Being able to garden, and having kitchen big enough to can? I think some folks don't understand the incredible privilege it is to have that kind of space. I could not have done this in my last 567 square foot apartment. I couldn't even afford to store canning materials I was only going to use once a year.

I am so grateful I can do this. I don't think I will ever take this for granted.

[ameliora-j]

alright i’m about to break some hearts so i apologize in advance. *cracks knuckles*

also ginny kinda a bitch in this one sorry i had to for the plot :/ [PART 2]

words: 1.7k

so pretty boy potter right? he has the bestest sub in the whole wide wizarding world. never bratty. does what he asks when he asks no matter what, when, or where. pretty boy potter’s sub is the closest thing to an angel on earth that you’ll find. if you haven’t guessed by now, pretty boy potter’s sub is you.

i mean you’re literally a fallen angel. you have to be. no other sub is this much of a good girl. you don’t talk back, you don’t act out, you always ask for what you want, and you never, and i truly do mean never, mouth off. giving harry an attitude or a hard time is the last thing that you’d want to do, i mean it’s practically blasphemous in your book. 

now we turn to ginny weasley. gryffindor’s golden girl that is oh so in love with harry potter and completely jealous of you. she would do anything to get you out of harry’s good graces and her into them. you’ve never done anything to the girl, i mean even when you see her all cuddled up entirely too close to your dom, you just smile and greet harry then move on. giving ginny the reaction that she wants would just get you in trouble with harry. and you don’t want that, not even a little bit.

harry has never once had to punish you in your entire time being together, and this creates a problem for ginny. she knows that nothing she does will get you to act out so what does she do? she teams up with the slytherin prince draco malfoy. getting harry mad at you will work out perfectly for both of them. you get your pathetic little heart broken and in the process harry gets his broken too. because if there is one thing in this whole world that harry hates more than voldemort... it’s seeing you cry.

but harry won’t take draco’s word for your bratty act, he’d just brush it up and chalk it up to the fact that the git deserved it. so instead she gets all of your friends and harry’s friends together to convince him that you’ve been nothing short of a brat, and your punishment has been a long time coming.

and it all goes down one fateful day in the gryffindor common room. when you’re upstairs in your dorm, the golden trio and all of their friends are sitting by the fireplace, and everything is serene. untill seamus finally pipes up. “what’s been up with your girl this week, potter?” his voice breaks the peaceful silence.

“what are you on about now finnegan?” harry chuckles. see, seamus and you have this playful little friend rivalry going on. it’s all in good fun and has been going on since your first year. harry is well aware of this, so he never scolds you for your playful fire with the irish boy.

“yeah harry she’s been a bit of a brat lately,” ron pipes in. this causes harry’s brows to furrow and his posture to straighten. you loved ron... he was always like an older brother to you. if you were being bratty to ron well then... he had a serious problem on his hands.

“she’s been a monster harry truly. she called me an insufferable know it all the other day,” hermione pipes in, hint of nervousness laced in her tone at the fact that she was lying. but she would do anything for ginny to keep her secret about what happened at the burrow fifth year summer between her and fred.

“called me an idiot,” ron shook his head “didn’t even do anything! i was jus helpin her with her potions work.”

“yeah some of the things she’s said to me this week have felt a bit too personal,” seamus shook his head. each of his friends went along, spilling lies about the perfect little angel to her dominant. and with each lie that was told, they felt worse and worse. the problem was that ginny had dirt on all of them, and they would do absolutely anything under the sun to get her to keep those secrets in. 

what really broke them all is when neville piped in. murmuring a soft “she called me a dickhead. told me nobody cared about m’stupid plants,” they knew they had broken him with that. harry was angry his face was red and his jaw as hard as stone.

neville felt bad for the girl, truly he did. you were soft... and nobody deserved to be at the end of harry’s wrath, especially a perfect little angel like you. “don’t go too hard on her... yeah harry?” neville spoke softly, dejection coarsing through his veins at the way that every one of them had just told a lie about you, and caused the boy to be properly pissed off with your actions.

“she’ll only get what she deserves,” harry spoke coldly. he knew he should wait. cool off before going and asking what had gotten into you this week. you were too soft to survive a harsh punishment in harry’s state of anger. 

but you practically sealed the deal when you skipped into the common room and put your angelic act back on, kissing harry’s cheek and sitting next to him with a joyous lilt of “hi hazzie,” and a bright smile. the entire room avoided looking at you, except for harry.

“don’t play angel now,” he demanded, and your brows furrowed in confusion at the harsh tone he was using. “my friends have told me everything you’ve done this week and you’re issuing for a punishment, little girl.” he spoke coldly. “you will get on your knees, and crawl to every person in this circle and apologize for being a stupid little brat. and then you will haul yourself over my lap and get ten for all that you’ve done.” his tone of voice alone told you not to argue. even though you knew you did nothing wrong. arguing would only make it worse for yourself, and somehow you knew that.

so, with tears welling in your eyes, you got on your knees and crawled to each one of his friends, repeating the words “i’m sorry for being a stupid brat,” as tears slowly began to fall from your eyes. you ended with harry, kneeling on the floor submissively with your hands on your thighs and looking up at his cold eyes, whispering a broken “i’m sorry for being a stupid brat daddy.” before sniffling and standing up, laying yourself across his thighs.

none of his friends could meet your eyes, even as you kneeled in front of them and spoke directly to them. they felt entirely too guilty. even as you laid yourself across harry’s thighs, they refused to look at you. even when being punished for, what you had to know was, no reason, you were still so undeniably obedient.

“you will count, and apologize after each one. do i make myself clear?” harry spoke as he pushed up your skirt and tore off your panties.

“yes daddy,” you sniffled. 

“ron give me your belt.” you heard the clinking of the leather, and that was your only warning before it began. no warning spanks or warm up spanks. just immediate rough and hard smacks coming down onto your ass. each one accompanied by a sniffle and a small ”i’m sorry daddy” from you. as well as a grimace from each of his friends. 

hermione left, right around the twentieth spank, the exact time that harry switched from his hand to the belt, and you stuck your thumb in your mouth and began suckling for comfort. luna followed not long after, on the twenty fifth when the tears began to spill from your eyes with seemingly no end. neville was right after luna, on the twenty-seventh, just as the tears began to spill over his waterline and you began to choke on your sobs.

“take your thumb out of your mouth or i’ll add ten more.” harry demanded, smacking your ass even rougher than before.

“yes daddy i’m sorry daddy thirty-one,” you choked out, forcing your thumb from your mouth as harry held your hands together at the bend of your lower back. 

by the time he was finished, you had received fifty spanks. your sobs were loud and you chokes around them as your face became red with the exertion of sobbing so hard. your ass matched the color of the gryffindor’s couch and it was decorated with hand prints and bruises from ron’s belt as harry attempted to sit you up on his lap and begin to console you, now much more calm than when he began.

you wriggled free from his hold and stood off his lap. not even stopping to grab your panties as you choked out a broken “mean“ and returned to your dorm. once you were safely inside, you made sure to lock it. placing an extra protection charm to ensure that nobody would be able to come in, even with the unlocking charm.

you threw all of your stuffies off of your bed, leaving them in a heap by the door, as well as throwing each article of harry’s clothing out of your trunk and into the pile, all while murmuring “bad girl” and “stupid brat” softly to yourself.

the tears never ended, and the consolidation never began. sitting yourself in the warm bathtub only made the pain in your ass hurt worse, and your sobs to fall from your lips even louder. harry and all of your friends could hear your sobs all the way in the common room, and it left the boy who lived feeling very confused, and his friends very guilty. 

harry knew you were going to cry yourself sick. but he also knew that you saw him as a monster, and he was the last person you wanted to be around right now. dejection coursed through both you and harry’s as he listened to your pain sobs and his heart broke further with each one. rubbing his hands over his face and muttering a broken “what just happened? what did i just do?” to himself.

and the boy who lived wished at this exact moment that he never had. he would never forgive himself for what he just put you through, and his friends couldn’t forgive themselves either. they had ruined you. completely destroyed your poor little angelic heart. only this time, harry didn’t know if he’d be able to put it back together.

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Love Conquers All

Zuko x Male Reader

Word Count: 1856

-------------

Y/n could understand where Zuko was coming from, but he knew he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't go as well as he had perhaps envisioned.

It was all very well and good that he had finally found his way, but he had hurt the Avatars group a fair bit before finding his way. Y/n also knew that as someone who had been a part of Zuko's attempts to hurt them, he had no leg to stand on in helping smooth the situation over. He hadn't been as single-minded in his focus on capturing the Avatar, but he had only cared because Zuko cared.

He didn't think that would matter to them, but then, Y/n didn't particularly care one way or the other how they felt about him. The only person who mattered to him was Zuko. Well, and Iroh, but that was a given of anyone who had met the calm old man.

When they made it to the kids campsite Y/n hung back, staying by the exit. It wasn't that he didn't trust them not to ambush him and Zuko, oh wait, it was that. Never mind.

Y/n watched the exchange carefully. He could feel it in the air mere seconds before she struck.

Faster than their eyes could follow, Y/n moved. By the time that everyone had caught up with the events, Y/n was standing in front of Zuko, sheathing his sword after having deflected Katara's water whip.

Silence reigned for a single heartbeat. Then Katara shrieked in outrage.

"How dare you!"

Y/n was sure she was still speaking, but he had a habit of being selectively deaf when it most benefited him.

And then, with almost no warning she was throwing water at him with increasingly wild movements.

It was no match for Y/n's technique.

It wasn't common knowledge, in fact, he had hidden it for most of his life, but Y/n was an airbender.

Yeah, literally the biggest lie in their world was that there were no more airbenders. The Air Nomads had had the practice of removing non-benders from their society and giving them to the other kingdoms.

What they didn't know was that all it took was for the right circumstances to happen and suddenly you had airbenders in the descendants of those non-benders.

It didn't change much ultimately, they were so few that they wouldn't ever be considered a threat to anyone, not that the Air Nomads had been when the Fire Nation had attacked them a hundred years ago.

What it all came down to, was a confused child suddenly developing powers that no one was able to control anymore.

Luckily for Y/n, the only person who had been around the first time he had bended was Zuko. As secrets tend to do, it had bound the two closer together than anyone would have thought ever since that day.

It was a loyalty that had seen Y/n stowing away on the ship Zuko had been banished on, and one that had been returned by Zuko had never once considered that the apparently Fire Nation child could be the reborn Avatar.

What it came down to, was that Katara was having no luck besting Y/n. Much as he wanted to put her in her place properly, Y/n knew that what they were trying to accomplish here would be hurt by that. From the looks of things though, they might have lost that chance.

Y/n stayed on the defensive, letting her tire herself out instead of outright attacking. He was worried about the look the Avatar was giving him though. That wide eyed expression couldn't mean anything good for his secret. He had always known that it would come out eventually, but he had hoped it would last longer than this dammit!

"Katara stop!"

The kid was trying to get in between then now, but the water tribe girl was apparently past the point of caring. She was just not backing down.

"Wait, I wanna talk to him!"

"No! They need to get out of here and never come back!"

Y/n was sure that her words might have been more intimidating if she weren't so clearly out of her league. He decided to ignore the voice in the back of his head that whispered that if he had used even half of his abilities properly before this they might have caught the Avatar long ago.

The element of surprise couldn't be taken for granted after all, and judging from the kid's reaction just now, all they would have had to do was show him Y/n's powers and he probably would have stayed on the ship that first day.

Y/n pulled himself out of his thoughts with a shrug. It was a bit late for that right now.

The Avatar had managed to get between Y/n and Katara, and seemed to be trying to talk her down from her rage. Y/n watched, only mildly interested. This wasn't how he had thought today would go.

He turned to Zuko, who was still standing behind him.

"Are you okay?"

He just looked Y/n over, head to toe looking for injuries.

"I'm fine, but are you sure it was a good idea to show them that? I could have taken a few hits. I've had worse before, you know that."

Y/n clenched his jaw at the reminder.

"I know. I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you willingly putting yourself in danger though. You didn't even try to defend yourself. Don't think I didn't spot that."

Y/n leveled a flat stare at Zuko.

He at least had the good grace to blush in shame and hide behind his fringe.

Y/n turned back to the group of kids gathered in front of them.

He gave them his best blank stare. He had nothing more to say to them, this was about Zuko teaching the Avatar firebending after all.

Besides, he was sure that anything he said would be twisted around and spat back at him by the water tribe girl.

"You're an airbender!"

Y/n refused to give up his secret that easily.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The little blind girl perked up.

"You're lying. You are an airbender? I thought they were all wiped out."

Y/n stubbornly refused to respond. He could see the water tribe girl's eye narrow at his silence. She was just about to explode on him again when Y/n felt a shift in the air. Less than a second later he felt Zuko's hand on his shoulder.

He slumped slightly. Damn Zuko's soft heart.

"Yes. I can bend air."

The shout of pure joy that the Avatar let out was enough to make Y/n feel slightly guilty about keeping it from him the whole time he had been after him.

"I'm not alone! There must be more, right? Some of the monks survived and hid right? Please tell me!"

Man, this kid was excitable, and as happy as he was, Y/n didn't want to be the one to tell him that he was wrong. He couldn't take the soft option of letting Zuko tell him though, they would probably turn on the both of them and Zuko wouldn't be able to fulfill his destiny.

"No."

"No you're not going to tell him?"

That girl was really starting to get on Y/n's nerves.

"No, they didn't survive."

That shut her up.

It also made the kid tear up, but there was no point building a lie just to make him feel better in this moment. That would be more cruel than the truth.

"The only reason that I exist right now is because of your ancestors though. Your people had a practice of testing their babies for airbending potential."

The Avatar was nodding along. Good, this wouldn't be a surprise to him.

"Well, when they showed to be non-benders your people gave them away. They were sent off to the other kingdoms, not welcome in, nor considered to be, a part of the Air Nomads."

"Air Nomads are airbenders, so if they aren't airbenders they aren't Air Nomads. That's just the way things are."

Y/n grit his teeth. It was an old hurt, but it still stung. He pulled in a deep breath and the only thing that stopped him from screaming about the injustice of it all was Zuko's hand that was still on his shoulder lending him the strength to continue.

"Your people were wrong. Occasionally their methods would be wrong, and they would let a bender slip away into another kingdom. But more than that, its in our blood, in the thing that makes us who we are. When enough of your ancestors were born from the Air Nomads, no matter whether they could bend themselves or not, you have the possibility to end up as a bender."

The Avatar's jaw was hanging open as he stared in horror at Y/n.

"But, they couldn't possibly have known that! If they had, maybe they wouldn't have done what they did."

Y/n's eyes shone with a dark light. This was something he would ultimately have to give up, but it was worth planting the seed if he could.

"So your saying that the only possible use non-benders have is the possibility of benders being born from them?"

The Avatar stopped cold and stared at Y/n in horror.

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then what? You had no problem with the idea that they would be thrown away like yesterday's garbage up until now. The only thing that's changed is this piece of information."

Y/n pulled back as he saw the tears form in the Avatar's eyes.

"Think on that for a while. You have a non-bender in your group. Do you consider him to be useless?"

The kids all looked like they had been hit over the head.

Y/n was sure that this would be the end of their interaction for the day.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Maybe then we can talk without resorting to violence."

He turned back to Katara who looked like she was getting ready to unleash whatever thoughts had been happening in that head of hers.

"Before you put your foot in it, consider this. We have two things you want. One you desperately need, the other, something you desperately want. Have a good night."

Zuko turned and walked back the way they had come, with Y/n bringing up the rear. He didn't trust them not to attack them from behind.

Y/n hoped that with the reminder that they needed Zuko to teach the Avatar firebending, they would be more open to meeting the next day. If that weren't enough, then there was the added bonus of Y/n being the only other airbender that they knew. He was sure that the Avatar wouldn't be able to resist the pull to be around someone who was like him for long.

Either way, they still had a long way to go to convince them that they didn't want to hurt them and that this wasn't a trap.

'Oh well,' Y/n thought as he lay sleepily beside their fire, 'things always look better in the morning.'

[sortasirius]

“Despair” and Dean and Cas

Well well well, winning is my favorite thing.

As usual, this is going to be as long as hell. And fair warning, it’s extremely emotional.

So here it is, the thing that we have been barrelling towards for years, literally years.

Just want to point out this.  Also, I will NEVER allow someone to speak negatively about this writing group, EVER.

Team Free Dads starting off the episode is so sweet, so scary.  Cas’ calming, Dean’s fear, Sam’s desperation, really just hammering home how much they love Jack, how his pain is pain for them, how losing him is unbearable.

“I can’t stop this.  I’m coming apart.  I don’t want to hurt you.  Don’t let me hurt you.”

Oof.  If you’ve ever question whether Jack is a Winchester, this line should shut that shit down for you.

When I tell you I was PISSED when Billie sent Jack to the Empty to EXPLODE?????  PAIN.

“Yeah the Empty can’t come to earth, not without being summoned.”

Hello Bobo, clue number 1.

The fact that they only had Jack in limbo for like five seconds was great for my heart health, thank u very much Bobo.

Also Dean wielding Death’s scythe?????? KING?????

Man, Sam and Dean’s growth.  The way that they’re able to, idk, actually speak on how they feel without death looming or fear or pain.  It’s just a conversation, just an honest conversation of Dean admitting his mistakes, admitting how he felt.  Admitting that he fucked up, and Sam forgiving him for it.

CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF

Also...hunters and their “dates.”  Two hunters who are happily together, who are happily fighting monsters.  Hm.  Sounds like a Saileen/Destiel parallel to me boys.

You ever wish Cas would look and the mirror and take the great advice he gives others?  Because I do.  He’s always tried to be “useful” for Sam and Dean, for Jack, always tried to make sure that he’s useful enough that they keep him around.  But what he doesn’t understand, what he’s never understood, is that they need him because of who he is, not because of what he contributes.

Remind y’all of anything?

And here we have Clue Number 2

And then, Sam’s realization.  Eileen.

Did I begin full tilt screaming no in my apartment when he said her name?  Who’s to say?

How can a lock screen cause me this much pain????

Okay but: Charlie loses Stevie, Sam loses Eileen.  Clue Number 3.

I feel like I don’t talk enough about how much Sam loves Eileen.  About how obvious it is that they are endgame, about how happy he is when he talks about her.  This just feels like a blow to the stomach, but we’ve barely even started.

Sam immediately shifting into protective leader mode?  He is the love of my life.

Dean’s simple nod, like it’s a given?  Enough to do me in right there.

This is another episode where it’s just so clear that Sam is the leader of the North American hunters.  Everyone knows him, everyone is willing to follow him.  He’s knowledgeable and kind and fair and just and an incredibly capable fighter.  Once again, I don’t believe his work on earth is done.

Can we also please talk about how FRIGHTENING IT WAS for Jack to kill that plant???  I don’t really have much of a comment on it because I was literally just like ?????

With Billie saying that it’s Chuck, the way that people were dusted, very similar to Becky and Amara, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised, especially with Donna getting taken off the board.  It’s like I said last week, I don’t buy that he’s taken himself off the board, he’s too invested in the unraveling of this story to take a step back.  He’s gotta break them before he can defeat them, that’s the only way.

And here we go, into one of the most painful and surreal things I will ever write about.

Dean’s speech.  His guilt, his regret.  The shame of not only trapping himself, but the pain, the horror of trapping Cas.

“I just lead us into another trap.  All because I, I couldn’t hurt Chuck.  Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill, and because that’s all I know how to do.”

“Dean-”

“It was Chuck all along.  We never should have left Sam and Jack, we should be there with them now.  Everybody’s gonna die, Cas.  Everybody.  I can’t stop it.”

His narrative arc.  Tied up in a bow.

“She’s gonna get through that door.”

“I know.”

“And she’s gonna kill you and then she’s gonna kill me.  I’m sorry.”

Cas smiles.

Cas knows.  He knows what’ll get them out of this, and he knows that he would do anything in this Universe for Dean Winchester. The human man he fell for.

“When Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.”

“You what?”

“The price was my life.  When I experienced a moment of true happiness, the Empty would be summoned and it would take me forever.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I’ve wondered what it could be, what my true happiness could even look like.  I never found an answer, because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have. 

“But I think I know, I think I know now...happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being.  It’s in just saying it.”

“What are you talking about, man?”

The most selfless thing Cas does in this, and he does a lot of selfless things, is to tell Dean Winchester how impossibly good he is.  To tell him that he is worthy, to tell him that he is adored.

“I know, I know how you see yourself, Dean.  You see yourself the same way our enemies see you.  You’re destructive and you’re angry and you’re broken and you’re daddy’s blunt instrument.  And you think that hate and anger, that’s what drives you, that’s who you are.  It’s not.  And everyone who knows you sees it, and everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love.  You raise your little brother for love, you fought for this whole world for love.  That is who you are.

“You’re the most caring man on earth.  You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.  You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you outta Hell...knowing you has changed me.

“Because you cared, I cared.  I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack, I cared about the whole world because of you. 

“You changed me, Dean.”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Dean’s greatest fear. His fear of those loving him leaving him. The terror of being alone.

“Because it is.

The head shake.  Don’t love me.  Don’t love me if it means you’ll leave me, don’t love me, everyone I love leaves me.  Don’t leave me.  Don’t love me.  Don’t leave me.

“Don’t do this, Cas.”

Just like I always thought.  One last look at Dean before the Empty takes him.

“Cas-”

“Goodbye Dean.”

And Dean is left, broken on the floor, unable to answer Sam’s calls, unable to do anything.  It doesn’t matter to him that Chuck has wiped everyone out, it doesn’t matter to him that Sam and Jack might need him.  It doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter, because the thing that mattered still hangs on his lips, still waiting to be said, and now he won’t get another chance to say it.

The fact that I am writing this, even with all my spec, with all my analysis of the writers’ room, of their text, of the way Dabb and co had approached this story, nothing could have ever prepared me for this.  Nothing could have prepared me for a three and a half minute, uninterrupted scene where Cas confesses not only that he loves Dean, but that he has always loved him.

I talk a lot about how these writers don’t get the credit they deserve.  Unfortunately, from most of this fandom, they never will.  We will likely never know the fights with the network they had, the steps backward they had to take, the way they had to beg and fight and claw to get this on the screen.  But they did it.  They did it for these characters, they did it for this dinosaur of a show, and yeah, they did it for us.

It was not easy, I can promise you, to get this greenlit.  They had to fight for this, they likely had to call in favors and make threats and quite literally put their careers on the line (you may scoff at that, but WB is a BIG company, especially in the TV/movie world) for this story.  This story of Dean and Cas, the man dragged out of Hell and the angel who fell for him.

I have tons more to say, and will likely have several more posts about this, but I want to leave all my babes who are worried that that was the end for Dean and Cas with some takeaways.

Sam is missing Eileen.  Dean is missing Cas.  That is no longer a fun subtextual parallel, that is it for them.  Their respective endgames are missing, and they will not know their peace until they get them back.  Chuck will not win.  That’s not the story being told, and right now?  He’s winning.  He’s broken them, left them with nothing, left them with an empty world and a hole in each of their hearts where their person (or angel) used to be.

Our show is going to end with “contentment.”  “Contentment” isn’t from Sam and Dean being filled with grief and hitting the open road.  It isn’t Sam getting Eileen back and leaving Dean with no one.  “Contentment” is Sam and Eileen, Dean and Cas.  Together.

[sunshineandaisies]

What’s in the Box, Peter?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader 

Words: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy

Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the baby mommas, the fur mommas, the plant mommas, and all the momma’s in between! 

Ever since you started dating Peter during your freshman year of college, you always spent Mother’s Day with him and May. 

Of course, you always had the customary FaceTime call with your own mother but with the prices of plane tickets constantly increasing, going home to spend the day with your family just wasn’t possible when all your money went towards rent and school expenses. 

So spending the day with Peter and May became tradition, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

May Parker had practically inducted you into the family after only a few months of dating her nephew, and she was the very definition of what you thought motherhood was all about. She was understanding whenever Peter found himself in trouble - whether it be as Peter Parker or his masked superhero alter ego - and she was always willing to lend an ear whenever you or Peter needed to rant about something (even if it was about each other). She worried about Peter - of course she did - but she let him have his space to make his own mistakes and learn from them. 

She may not have been Peter’s actual mother, but damn did that woman deserve the best Mother’s Day that you and Peter could muster.

You’d stayed at May’s apartment the night before rather than at yours and Peter’s apartment on the other side of the city to save yourself the commute in the morning, and you were infinitely glad that you’d done so. An extra hour of sleep was definitely worth you and Peter squeezing into the small bed in his old bedroom. 

Peter still woke up early, though.

He always did, unable to really sleep in the days leading up to Mother’s Day. He grew restless and quiet, and you didn’t need to ask to know why. 

He pressed his lips to your cheek before he left for his visit to his mother’s grave that morning, his jacket tugged on to protect himself from the early morning chill and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He whispered a promise of coffee when he returned, and your appreciation for him doubled in an instant.

By the time he returned, you were busy making pancakes and humming along to the song on the radio while May tittered around the kitchen despite your insistence that she let you take care of making breakfast.

It was her day, after all.

“Good morning,” Peter greeted, pressing a styrofoam cup into your hand. He pressed his lips to your temple before greeting May with a hug and wishing her a happy Mother’s Day. He set a small, wrapped box down on the counter, making you cock your head in curiosity.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the box in question with the spatula. You were sure that you had already gotten May a Mother’s Day gift. In fact, you had wrapped her gift yourself the night before. Had you forgotten something? 

“Just a Mother’s Day gift,” he replied vaguely, a smile curling his lips. “You’ll see after breakfast.”

Your gaze kept flitting back to that mysterious little box as you finished stacking pancakes onto a large plate, as you filled three glasses of juice and set the table, and as you and Peter caught May up on all of things that you had accomplished over the course of the last semester. You were just barely managing to contain your curiosity enough to actively keep up the conversation and not be rude, and Peter wasn’t helping any. 

The way that he seemed extra fidgety and the way that his gaze kept flitting to you more than usual while he talked to May about his plans once you were both finally done with grad school had you wondering if you did something wrong or even worse- if he was planning something that you didn’t know about.

Oh, God. Was he going to propose?

Outwardly, you were smiling brightly and nodding in agreement to what Peter was saying about your plans for the summer, but inwardly, you were panicking.

You loved Peter, you really did, and you’d be happy to marry him. Just not now. You’d had the discussion about marriage over a year ago, knowing that you both wanted it at some point, but you and he had both agreed that marriage was off the table until you were both done with school. You both had at least one year of grad school left, and that was only if you - ever the academic - decided to not continue your education with further certification. A proposal was at least a year away, so long as Peter adhered to the agreement you had made nearly two years ago.

You cleared the table with lightning speed once everyone had finished with their breakfast, wanting nothing more than to know what Peter was hiding. You retrieved May’s gift from Peter’s bedroom and placed it in front of her while Peter held onto the small mystery box, his fingers flexing and unflexing nervously. 

Jesus Christ, you were about to implode from impatience and anxiety and-

“This is so cute!” May exclaimed, holding up the small succulent in a pot shaped like a dinosaur. “Did you find this at that shop on 47th?”

“I think so?” Peter looked to you for confirmation, but you only shrugged in response. “Y/N picked out most of the stuff in there. She has a better eye for things than I do.”

“Peter did pick out the wine, though,” you pointed out, nodding towards the fancy bottle of white wine that had cost more than your electrical bill last month. “I will, however, take credit for the plant and the memory foam slippers.”

You shared a small smile with Peter as May looked over her gifts happily. “This is so sweet. Thank you.” She leaned across the table and pulled your both into as tight a hug as she could manage with a table in the way.

“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” Peter told her, and the few happy tears she swiftly brushed away with her thumbs didn’t escape your attention.

“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” you repeated, feeling so incredibly grateful to have May in your life. “You literally deserve the best Mother’s Day for putting up with this guy for most of his life.” You gently nudged Peter in the side with your elbow as you teased, chuckling as he rolled his eyes at you while struggling to fight back an amused smile.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, and it only made you and May laugh harder. “You both love me.”

And suddenly your laughter died as your attention was dragged back to that mysterious little box, now pushed in front of you by Peter. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you,” he answered as if it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.

“I get that, but why?” You observed the small gift nervously. “It’s Mother’s Day, Pete, and I’m very much not a mother. Not unless you count being a plant mother. You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“What?” His face twisted in confusion, brows knit together and lips slightly parted. “You don’t know? I thought you knew.”

What the hell? Your brows knit together as you looked from Peter to May, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Know what? I think I would know if I was a mom, Peter.” You let out a breath and started to pull at the wrapping paper. “I mean, thank you for the gift, but this was really unneces-” Your words died on the tip of your tongue as you saw what was tucked neatly into the small box.

You lifted the mug from the box, staring at the words written across the front in pretty pink script. 

‘Happy (Expectant) Mother’s Day’

You blinked, too confused to speak.

“I thought you said she knew,” you heard May whisper to Peter.

“I thought she did!” your boyfriend whispered in return. “I thought she was waiting for today to tell me!”

You finally snapped out of your trance, placing the mug down on the table and turning to Peter. “Can you please explain what’s happening?”

After a beat of silence, he answered, “You’re pregnant.”

You snorted in disbelief. “I think I’d know if I was pregnant, Peter.” You took a second to mentally count the days, and your heart began to beat erratically once you realized you had been so busy with final papers and projects to remember when your last period had been. Well, shit.

“You are,” he said confidently. He draped an arm around the back of your chair before taking your hand in his. “Some nights, when it’s really quiet, I can hear the baby’s heartbeat. Scared the hell out of me when I first heard it.” Instinctively, your hands dropped to your stomach, cradling it tenderly. Leave it to your boyfriend to find out you were pregnant before you did thanks to his hyper-senses. “I thought you knew and you were planning to tell me today, you know, because it’s Mother’s Day.” He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously, his gaze flitting to May before he met your eyes again. “I, uh, realize now that you didn’t know.”

“We’re gonna have a baby?” He nodded, lips curling into a smile. “I’m gonna be a mom?” Another nod. “I thought you were gonna propose! I was so nervous!”

“I mean, I can still do that if you want,” he offered, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate eyes.

“No!” you exclaimed. “I think one big life change is enough for today.”

You shared a soft, sweet kiss with Peter before turning your attention back to the mug on the table. Your fingers curled around it, holding it gently in your hands as you stared at the words again and a smile tugged at your lips.

A gentle hand on yours called your attention away from the mug and to May. The older woman was smiling widely at you and her nephew, i she’d tears glittering in her eyes. “Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N.”